#his therapist crying on the verge of throwing up : what now

[sanjiaftersex]

new mental health issue unlocked for blackleg sanji <33 🔓

[mysticstarlightduck]

Incorrect Quotes Tag Game!

Thank you for tagging me @rickie-the-storyteller (here)! I really like tags like this and haven't done one in quite a while! So let's go! (I'll go with the cast of Supernova Initiative for this one)

Rules: use this incorrect quotes generator to come up with incorrect quotes for your OCs!

(It is scary how accurate these got OMG lmao)

Gabi: Hey, aren’t you Jack Tithus? The most famous thief in the galaxy? Jack (narrows his eyes suspiciously): You a cop? Gabi: No. Jack (smirks proudly): Then yes, I am.

Deimos: I’m a multitasker! Also Deimos: I can disappoint fifteen people at once.

Artemis, acting tough: You guys don't want to mess with me. Cassiopeia: Yeah, Artemis will straight-up cry in public. Don't try him. Artemis: Exactly, I will straight-up - (Realizes) Cassiopeia (smug as all heck): Artemis, already tearing up: Cassie, why would you say that?!

Pax: Anybody got any crayons so I can color in my Ph. D.?

Deimos (ten years ago, babysitting Cassie for Jack): OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE! (Kid) Cassiopeia: *Climbing* THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

Meridian: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

Vesper: Hey, Aleks, where are you going? Aleks: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. Aleks: But right now I’m going to get some fries.

Lyorna, looking at Jack: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Cassiopeia: Hey, are you okay? Jack: Yeah. Cassiopeia: 'Yeah.' You don't look okay... Jack (jokingly, about to change the subject so fast): Well, then stop looking.

Pax: I just got the best idea I've ever had in my entire life! *Later* Ethean, to Pax, disappointed and a bit impressed: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Jack: So, company is coming, I want this place looking like Disney On Ice in one minute! (frantically organizing the chaos) Cassie, if you haven't made your bed already, throw it away - it's too late to make it now! Get rid of the couches, guys, we can't let people know we sit!! The chairs need to be pushed in, there can't be any sign of living in this house - (On the verge of a mental breakdown, continues rambling)

The entire crew: (done with life)

Deimos: Vesper, is that... my mug you’re drinking out of? Vesper: No, it’s mine. Deimos: It... looks just like the one I have... Vesper (holding the mug like a gremlin): You don’t have one like this anymore.

The Director: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'sadistic bastard’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Deimos, playing a video game: This game is so frustrating! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Jack: OK... then I think it’s time to turn off the game for a little while. Deimos (with the manic energy of someone who chugged three bottles of energetics at once, utterly disheveled): BUT I'M HAVING FUN!

Aleks: You... you saved me. You're not a bad guy at all. YOU'RE A HERO, AN UGLY UGLY UGLY HERO! Noctus: Call me ugly again, and maybe I will eat you.

Jack: Just wondering, did you get any sleep? Artemis: Did I get any... leap? Jack (hella confused): A what now...?

Ethean: I'm trying to juggle family life and work life but I can't seem to find a balance. What do you suggest I do to keep everyone happy? Noctus (deadpan): Quit your job, kill your family. Seriously, I can't stand Pax any moment longer-

Vesper: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense. Aleks: No, I’ve got plenty of common sense! Aleks: I just choose to ignore it.

Deimos: Did you miss me while I was gone? Cassiopeia (being a little shit with a grudge): Oh, you were gone? Wow. Didn't even notice.

Cassiopeia (at 2AM in the morning): I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies. Jack (who just wants to sleep): You’re too young to have enemies. Cassiopeia: You don’t even know.

Deimos: Hi- Vesper: Leave before there's a terrible misunderstanding between my foot and your ass.

Aleks: Do I sound smart, or am I smart? Noctus: You sound unbearable, to be perfectly honest.

Deimos: Fine! I don't give a shit! Jack: You seem to give a lot of shit for someone who claims not to give a shit.

Noctus: Pick a card, any card. Jack (smirks): Fine. Noctus: Wait, that's my credit card! Jack, already running away, looking over his shoulder: You said any card.

Deimos: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

Pax: O darling brother, you love me, right? Ethean (suspicious): Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Noctus (panicked): This should be illegal! Pax (having the time of his life): It is!!!!!!

Cassiopeia: But that’s censorship. Noctus: Well done. You are correct. You’re being censored. Now go away.

Jack, to Cassiopeia: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 units in your room for food. Clean your room, and you will find it.

Meridian, putting their hands over Vesper's eyes: Guess who! Vesper: It's either Meridian or the cold, clammy hands of death. Meridian, putting their hands away: It's me! Vesper: Dammit.

Jack: Deimos likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

Jack: *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep? Cassiopeia: *also dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Yes? Jack: ...We’re in too deep.

Artemis, sniffling: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies. Meridian: Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired? Artemis: I have depression, robot-man, what do you think?

Aleks: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. Vesper: Ok. Aleks: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

Noctus (lying through his teeth, cause he actually does care): I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

Aleks, throwing a pokeball at Deimos: Deimos, I choose you! Deimos, not looking up from his book and catching it: You need an Ultra ball to catch this Legendary Pokémon.

Meridian: Are you tall enough to play basketball though? Gabi: Are you calling me short? Meridian: No, I'm calling you vertically challenged.

Pax: You need to be more careful! Ethean who was dragged into Pax's issue (and lost his entire career because of it): Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

Deimos: You know, I used to play back in my gory days. Artemis: ... You mean glory days? Deimos: Ah, that too.

Artemis: SSSHIT- I BURNT MY LIP- Cassiopeia: ...Why the fuck would you even drink coffee with a METAL STRAW in the FIRST PLACE?? Artemis: BECAUSE WE WERE OUT OF THE PLASTIC ONES!

The Director: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Jack: And what did we learn, Vesper? Vesper, begrudgingly: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

Ethean: What happened?! Pax: Do you want the long version or the short version? Ethean: Sh-short?? Pax: Shit's fucked. Ethean, facepalming:: Okay, long. Pax: Shit's very fucked.

Jack, opening a bottle of Hot Chocolate: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Cassiopeia: *aggressively throws a pencil at Deimos* Deimos, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

Kaelus (Lyorna's Dad): Don’t worry, I have a permit. The Junction: ...This just says “I can do what I want”.

Kaelus: Exactly. NOW GET OUT OF MY FUCKING PLANET -

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[dairy-farmer]

How differently do you think the dicktim biosib AU would have gone if the reveal happened before Jack and Janet Drake were alive? Dick snapped by the end of the first part of the AU. He didn't trust any of the family and it was likely made worse by Tim regressing in mind.

Speaking of regressing, what if the reveal was brought on by some magical mishap. Robin aged down by some amateur magician's spell. And Nightwing was called on by Bruce who needed help watching over Gotham because the spell didn't age Tim down to the age 3 but 4 or 5, during the earliest years of Tim's ECT when the trauma of seeing your parents fall and being kidnapped was really, really fresh in Tim's mind so he's on a dissociative state. Bruce has no idea what to do. Clearly he needs to investigate what happened to Tim, both in the present and the past, but he can't leave Tim alone (he tried doing that earlier but then little Tim went into a panic attack).

Nightwing comes, albeit unsure how he'll react because he's still having a hard time with Tim sharing his brother's name and looking like him and now being the same age as him. Then he sees Timmy. In hindsight, Bruce thinks that maybe he shouldn't have called his eldest who had a hard time during his first few years, adopted. But then Tim responds!! He recognizes Dick? He called him Dickie?? Suddenly, Bruce has a feral oldest son and a dissociating almost son. Where is Alfred when Bruce needs him? In a sabbatical in England. I need him there to make sure the whole situation really blows up in astronomical proportions.

-🦆

!!!!!!!!!!OH MY GOD!!!!! THIS IS SUCH A TOP TIER CONCEPT!!! the idea that dick found out tim was HIS timmy while jack and janet were still alive would really put dick through so much trauma.

i honestly think that a lot of dick would regress to that same pained bloodthirsty hatred he had for zucco and attack anyone including bruce, clark, and his friends when they try to reason and talk to him. because as hard as he was trying to find timmy, part of him wasn't expecting to find him alive because why would someone kidnap a kid and then just keep them alive (unless they were doing truly despicable things to them)????

but then he does find timmy. he finds him ALIVE.

but terrified. scared. and sobbing in petrified fear when he's not stone cold silent and catatonic.

dick is devastated. if there was a better word to describe he'd be that. he's absolutely gutted and so relieved he could cry. he feels like he's on the verge of throwing up and crying so hard he just stops breathing. when dick finds out that tim had been hit with some magic he'd been concerned. a few magic users had been called in to help with clean up and through the grape vine dick had heard that robin had been hit with something particularly nasty, some kind of time spell.

when bruce had called him he hadn't been surprised to hear him mention tim but he was surprised to be asked for help. bruce's voice is noticeably strained and he tells dick about how alfred is out of town and he really had his hands full with gotham and normally he wouldn't ask but things have really taken a turn with tim and-

dick can hear a child start cryng and screaming on the other end of the line. he can hear what sound like little frantic fists starting to bang on a door and the muffled cries grow louder and bruce curses and presumably tries to get to tim. he can hear bruce's strained voice go from a low whisper to assurance and comfort as a little boy sobs in a way that has dick's chest going tight.

it's not that dick doesn't like tim. it's just that tim...he just...he brings back bad memories for dick and being in the cave and hearing bruce yell 'tim' or alfred say 'master tim' or even dick being forced to say the name tim and not mean his...

it hurts. dick hasn't been to see a therapist or a psychiatrist ever but he's fought enough of them and he's pretty sure being close to tim is not good for his health. he'll get over it. he'll overcome the mental barrier eventually but until he does he resolved to keep his distance.

but hearing a child cry and hearing bruce plead with tim that it was alright and he was here now and he was sorry for leaving while tim was asleep-

dick isn't heartless. and something...something about hearing some try and console a sobbing child named tim just twists something in dick's gut and he can't, in good conscience, tell the lie about being too busy that was on the tip of his tongue.

bruce sends him a batplan on autopilot to his location and dick arrives in just a few short hours. bruce tries to call a handful of times before giving up and just forwarding the case file of what he's accumulated so far.

dick reads it over, growing more disturbed the closer he gets. tim had been been hit with a spell by the magician in custody of the league. initially it had knocked him out but after getting medical attention and a consult from a magic user it was determined that tim had been affected by a time inversion spell. those spells are tricky because they can only be removed by the one who made it and as far as they could tell the magic user was an amaeteur and nowhere near the level to undo a spell of this complexity.

their recommendation was to get tim somewhere safe where he could be contained.

bruce had done that.

only to greatly regret it when tim woke up as a five year old and immediatly started panicking about being locked in a room, begging bruce to let him out.

bruce suspects tim to be the victim of some kind of domestic abuse. it hurts dick's heart to read that. bruce notes about how the sight of bruce in the cowl had frightened tim so terribly he'd urinated over himself.

somehow dick can detect the shame in bruce's writing as he reads that.

the picture painted is not a nice one. tim is anxious, skittish, he's frightened of loud noises, and of being left alone. he vomits when upset and he has a stutter in his voice. bruce has noted that tim gets out of breath quickly and is easily fatigued by too much physical or emotional activity.

the part that disturbs bruce the most is the borderline catatonia where tim will withdraw and enter a sort of headspace where he's almost... mind-controlled. he obeys bruce's every word but doesn't respond back even when prompted. he'll eat and drink if encouraged which he won't do normally because tim suffers from nausea which won't allow him to keep down food for long.

bruce has run blood panels, scans, and even pulled tim's decade old medical files. only for nothing to be physically wrong with him. tim's medical file is suspiciously thin and bruce notes how he just gets a weird feeling as he reads it over. he needs to look into it. there's something in his gut telling him something isn't right.

tim is terribly traumatized and bruce gets the feeling that it's not from him seeing dick's parents die at the circus. tim had told him about how he'd nightmares of that night for years but never in a way that told bruce that it would result in this kind of state.

tim's hair is so thin and bruce has included photos where it can seen that there are small patches where the hair is so thin it's nearly a bald spot and it's with dawning horror that bruce realizes it's most likely because of telogen effluvium. hair loss brought about by extreme stress.

tim's blood test results also show similarly concerning results. tim at five years old has the cortisol and catecholoamine levels of someone six times his age.

it's bad.

dick feels concern for tim deepen when he lands. he has no idea what he's walking into.

the cave is empty and dick remembers how the file said tim hadn't liked how dark the cave was so bruce had moved the operation to the manor. dick heads up. he changes out of his uniform first because the last thing he wants is to upset a toddler even more.

dick passes through the cuckoo clock entrance into bruce's office and can hear some soft crying distantly. so dick follows it.

he's not sure what it is in his mind that 'clicks' when he walks into the sight of bruce in a wife beater and pajama shorts carrying and rocking a little baby that can't possibly be five because he looks no older than two. bruce looks haggard and tired because he'd made it three days before calling dick for help in gotham. there are dark circles under his eyes and he looks like he hasn't shaved as he softly whispers to a whimpering child curled up in his arms. tim is in little yellow duckie pajamas. there's still a tag on the collar of the shirt hanging out of the back of it. at the sound of dick's footsteps tim lifts his head and bruce looks so relieved as they both turn to look at him.

tim lifts his little head and turns a chubby red-cheeked and tear stained face to him.

something in dick stops cold. it's like the entire world slows down and part of him distantly wonders if this is what wally feels all the time.

tim's sweet baby eyes settle on him and his expression crumbles as small arms stretch out for him and a fresh wave of tears as tim brokenly reaches for him, little voice hoarse as he yells "daddy!"

something snaps in dick. it's almost audible in his ears. it sounds like a bone buckling under pressure and just...snapping.

that face. that voice. that call of daddy that was always so joyous and followed by shrieking laughter as dick and timmy's dad would lift tim up and toss him in the air before catching him. only now that voice had none of the happiness. just pure desperation and fear and it's like dick gains tunnel vision. all he sees is his precious baby timmy who was taken from him being held back in the arms of a man who tugs tim back as tim tries to escape him.

his timmy screams and a decades worth of rage and pain races to the front of dick's mind and turns him into an animal.

dick's first instinct is to get his innocent baby brother away from the thing holding him. but he takes two steps and tim is pulled further away with that THING blocking his view and that's when dick just decides to kill it.

it'd be easy. like snapping the neck of a dog snapping at him. at some point in the scuffle dick has his teeth in the thing's arm and tim suddenly gets thrown onto a nearby couch. tim shrieks as he's in the air and starts sobbing when he lands.

and as much as dick wants to get rid of this THING as much as he wants to make it pay for scaring his timmy- dick is not about to lose his timmy again.

so dick runs. he snatches his timmy and runs, weaving and dodging and ignoring the yelling behind him. all he cares about is the little, warm body curled up against him and shaking.

dick finds an old crawlspace, a corner that sparks something in his memory about aged hands pushing food and juiceboxes in and a light shining in as his new guardian begged dick to come out.

it's a tight squeeze with timmy but dick recalls the big space at the end with a little window thining down on the lawn below. dick knows they will be safe there and that THING behind him is too big to fit through it.

timmy is softly sobbing against him, nuzzling close and hiccuping and he's cradled close and dick is only barely biting back his tears as he hastily examines tim. his little hands, his face, his little legs, and baby tummy. dick bites back a sob at tim's bald spot and pushes down the vicious snarl that wants to rip out of him. his timmy is too thin. his cheeks aren't as rosy and there are dark circles under his eyes, his timmy isn't as round and sweet and chubby and dick wants to cry at the thought of his timmy starving to death. it'd been one of the nightmares that haunted dick the worst. of timmy falling into the sewer or some big hole and crying but no one coming to save him and slowly wasting away. nightmares of timmy clutching his baby timmy and sobbing at ever rumble, crying out 'dickie! dickie i'm so hungry!'

dick trembles as he cradles the back of tim's tender head, stroking his baby fine hair and rocking the two of them, murmuring how it was okay dickie was here, dickie was here now just like he'd promised tim he would be.

and his baby timmy makes a soft sound at that.

"dickie?" he asks in that heartachingly sweet voice that haunted dick's every living moment for years. "dickie? dat you?"

dickie can't hold it back and lets a sob burst forth from his chest, sniffling as he nods, pulling timmy's sweet baby body back far enough so he can see him. timmy's eyes are dulled and there's something....broken in them. it's like he's looking right through dick.

"dickie." tim says in soft voice so low dick has to strain to hear it. "you look just like daddy."

tim breathes it so reverently but as soon as the words leave his mouth it's like a puppet with it's stings cut. tim goes limp, blank eyes somehow clouding over like a dead fish's.

to say dick panics would be an understatement. his timmy is hurt somehow even though dick has carefully checked his body, feeling every single one of his little ribs and with each one swearing he will make the one that did this pay. there is nothing dick can do but hold his baby timmy tighter to him. hot, vengeful tears burn trails down dick's cheeks and he holds back so much of his anger in favor of being able to gently touch his timmy. his timmy is in his arms now, his timmy is safe with him now and dick will make sure nothing ever happens to him again. dick will never let anyone take his timmy from him ever again.

bruce of course freaks out because dick has clearly gone completely crazy and taken tim with him. they've retreated to a little crawlspace dick used to go into when he first moved to the manor, he'd spend hours inside before coming out for the bathroom or food. those first few months with dick had been terrible. bruce had never had to care for a traumatized child but after they caught zucco dick had waited for days beside the phone, waiting for any news about tim. until it became clear none was coming and that's when....IT started. the fits of violence, the screaming, the crying, the hiding away.

it's like dick became a completely different person. he ended up accidentally cutting alfred with a shard of glass once and bruce had needed to hold him down. bruce had tried asking child psychologists, doctos who specialized in child development. they'd all wanted to get dick committed or put on medications and so bruce had stopped asking them. bruce knew grief, he knew it well. he knew there was a howling beast in dick's chest that was sobbing for that innocent baby that had been stolen away. so bruce hadn't held it against him. and eventually...dick started getting better. he didn't remember those first few months, all those instances of violence and self harm when he'd bang his head against the wall before bruce could stop him were evaporated from his memory and bruce didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.

that flash....that glimpse of...something else that had crossed dick's expression just before he attacked was something that bruce only saw in his nightmares.

bruce doesn't know why dick took tim. what inspired such a violently animalist streak in him that bruce had only ever seen one other time in dick when he-

....

bruce is a detective. he gets all the facts and he gets the truth no matter how much it hurts. bruce's mind is not flawless and it's not perfect and sometimes it takes him awhile to put things together.

but everything starts fitting together so rapidly.

that day, that first day tim had come into their lives. when he told them that he'd been present on the day of the flying grayson's murder, that he'd been in the crowd with his parents....

this doesn't mean that the drakes, a family of significant wealth in gotham...kidnapped a child in broad view of strangers. the risk associated with such a move, the uncertainty of success....

what if tim had screamed? what if someone had seen?

it doesn't make sense. a family like the drakes don't lack resources. if they'd wanted a child they had so many options. their money gave them so many options it doesn't make sense for them to ...to see a child and then decide to take them.

but don't some of the most mentally disturbed criminals never act in ways that make sense.

and all bruce can do is think.

think about how they could've adopted, used ivf, had a surrogate. if they weren't willing to wait they could've purchased a child as well.

bruce had no proof the drakes were the kidnappers. it's entirely possible a trafficker had seen tim and taken him because the opportunity was there.

but that's not how traffickers function, not good ones at least, not ones that wanted to keep their operation up and running and away from the attention of the police. it pissed bruce off to no end to see on the internet how grossly people would spread lies and fear monger about trafficking. traffickers didn't stalk random people and then put zipties on their windshields or mark their front doors with paint so they can be identified later. kidnapping a person draws unwanted attention. most people don't even realize when they're seeing real trafficking. they think it's only poor neighborhoods but it could be anywhere and it could happen to anyone. but one thing that's certain is that it's almost always someone the victim knows. a friend, a boyfriend, an uncle, a father. somone you trust, somone you're not suspicious of, someone you might even depend on.

traffickers don't just see children walking around by themselves and decide to take them.

so it was the drakes. the drakes stole a child.

tim's thin medical file, his strange birth certificate from florida a state notoriously difficult to extract copies of documentation from, a state that hasn't yet digitized it's state clerical office and records so bruce can't just pull up the documents.

bruce knows that dick is unstable at mentions of his little brother. he's seen the aftermath of the breakdowns of how he'll become recluse at particularly brutal cases involving children. he knows that dick on some level hates him for security measures he instilled to protect him like getting his blood enchanted so enemy magic users won't be able to track him down if they ever get dick to bleed or get a lock of his hair. they were measures that protected dick but ultimately assassinated his changes of finding tim through their biological connection.

bruce knows dick's regrets, he's tried so hard to make dick not feel the pain of losing his last family member. bruce worked tirelessly those first few months because a little boy couldn't just disappear. but he had.

sometimes bruce wondered if the never-ending pain of wondering what happened to your loved one was worse than having them die. at least if they died you'd have the closure of knowing what happened to them. the uncertainty of his brother's fate tormented dick every day of his life.

and now they'd reached the climax of that lifetime of pain.

bruce hissed as carefully irrigated the wound where dick had bitten a chunk out of his forearm. he was going to need serious antibiotics for this. dick was somewhere in the manor and bruce was near certain he wouldn't hurt tim but at the same time...there was no telling what he'd do in his current state and tim was already so fragile as it was.

bruce needed to find out what had been done to tim while with the drakes. it'd been slow but bruce had managed to pry tim's birthday out of him.

timothy grayson disappeared when he was 3 years old meaning that at 5, his abduction was still fresh and who knows what had been done to tim in that time.

as a thirteen year old tim was better adjusted. he was smart and social and he didn't appear to have any clear indications of past trauma. but clearly bruce had missed something.

he'd missed something big.

he'd already dropped the ball but he couldn't again. he needed to make sure he did everything right this time. no more mistakes.

when it comes to the drakes being alive i do think that dick is fighting within himself to go after them. he knows where they are, they send tim, his baby brother, the baby they STOLE post cards of their approximate location. dick had been nice to zucco when taking him in but he was not going to be nice to the drakes- not after he sees how they've tortured his baby timmy for years.

but he also doesn't want to leave tim to go after them. and bruce knows that and for dick's sake and not the drakes, bruce is hurrying to put the case together to have them arrested and put away before dick can find away to care for tim and hunt them. dick isn't going to take tim with him to take down the drakes, not when he knows how panicked and distressed his baby brother becomes at the thought of them. but spending more time with tim only makes his hatred grow. when tim is lucid he cries about how he thought dick was dead- how THEY had told him they'd all died and tim was alone now.

tim had tried running back to the circus but he was always too slow and they caught him. they showed him posters and newspaper articles about haly's circus in other cities and told tim that they left him behind that they didn't want him anymore.

each word and confession just fuels the rage and hatred in dick's heart.

dick has spent his entire life fearing the worst and now the worst has faces and names. and although tim never says it, dick thinks the worst of them. they're murders, pedophiles, kidnappers- every horrible fate, every moment dick lay awake thinking of his timmy, he's going to pay the drakes back for every single second.

bruce gets to the drakes before dick can. but dick's hatred for them never goes away. even the barest mention of their names has him near snarling so people know not to bring it up.

tim is still a baby and bruce can't even imagine what tim will feel getting turned back to normal and learning what has transpired. dick is so possessive of tim, he won't even let clark get near tim.

but bruce can't blame him. if someone had brought jason back to him all those months ago he would've held him and never let go.

but even though these two brothers have been reunited a decade after they were tragically torn apart, it all still carries the heavy air of devastation.

tim will be back to normal eventually and when he is how will both of them cope to the changes in their lives?

bruce wishes he had an answer. but he didn't. he really didn't.

[soupedepates]

TW suicide attempt, psychophobia Kasem and Ijaaz belong to @noa-de-cajou

"You're a dumbass, jeez", Kasem shouted "How could you do this to me?!" "Calm down, or the nurses are going to throw you out of here", Ijaaz calmly responded. "I'm going to fetch you coffee for the both of you, I think you need some... time to talk together."

I reached for my glasses when I heard the door being shut. I dared not take a look at my husband, whom I felt glaring upon me.

"Why ? Just why, Gaspard?" "Didn't you read my note?" "Of course I read it!", they screamt on the verge of tears. "Why are you like this? Why didn't you talk to me? Why?" "Because that therapist is right. Because everyone is right", I said with a trembling voice. "I am bad for you. I will ruin your life and I will ruin our child's life if we have one. Everyone is right, Kasem. Everyone."

I finally gathered enough courage to lock eyes with him.

"I should've succeeded. And you would've been happy with Ijaaz."

He tried to respond, before giving up and collapsing on the chair of my hospital chamber. He wiped a tear off their cheek.

"You know I can't live without you. And... I have done enough harm around me and-" "For fuck's sake SHUT UP!" he burst out crying. "Shut your fucking mouth! I've almost lost my husband due to your bullshit, if another word comes out of your..."

They let out a muffled scream. I looked at him in silence, waiting for him to continue.

"I am so sorry not to have seen anything", he finished by saying. "I don't blame you, I am a good liar. And I had a plan since... forever, I guess. Never thought I would really act on it, I thought that narcissism would shield me from that, but... Here we are." "Idiot", he mumbled/ "What shame, defeat and self-loathing do to a man", I said while putting out my glasses. I couldn't bear the disapproval in his eyes, in the way his mouth bent.

He rose from the chair, and came to my side. My hand in his, they somewhat forced me to stay in contact, not to retreat in my head, and his touch was comforting. It proved me he was in my corner, after all. I didn't deserve that tenderness, but I am only a man. I closed my eyes and prayed for him to stay.

"Look at me, making it all about me again", I whispered. "What a fool I am." "Gaspard, this is about you now. You tried to kill yourself. I am just... relieved you're alive. This is a lot to process", he murmured before he kissed me on the forehead. "When you were still asleep, I uh... I talked to the doctors, and we agreed that the soundest thing is that you get hospitalized for a bit. It's up to you, but... you know." "I just want us to go home, now", I chuckled. "I just want to cook dinner with you, watch a movie and I don't know, just cuddle until we're asleep. I want to go home." "I'll... see what I can do."

We just stayed silent, wiping each other tears. I snuggled against him, their warmth filling me with comfort and a sense of being loved for who I am even if I am a mess. And it was just so much of a feeling, I just needed him by my side and I couldn't stand living in a world where I am the monster and he was my victim. He deserved so much more, so much better, than I could ever provide. But still, he loved me. And he was the most important person in my entire life.

"Never again. I don't want to see you like that ever again." "I'm sorry", I couldn't help but wept.

I opened my eyes. They were close enough for me to distinguish their features. His ocean eyes. His long hair. His smooth skin.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore... You're too precious for me." "I know, Gaspard. I know you do your best, and you don't know how much you do for me. I want you alive. I need you alive." "Will we go home soon?" "We will. I promise."

[erodasfishtacos]

can you write something about cheating harry and yn acting like a proper couple in front of anna, like harry with his arm around her and kissing her head and stuff, and anna is just standing there fuming and maybe tries to get physical with yn

Love Your Broken Pieces

-

warnings: cheating; mentions of trauma and domestic abuse

if you enjoy please consider donating $3 to my ko fi.

(any donations over $15 get a guaranteed blurb written of their choosing!)

reblog, like, comment, & come chat!

-

YN really really didn’t want to go out.

She wasn’t going to tell Harry that because it was a celebratory dinner for him because he’d just won Entrperur of the yearand she wasn’t going to ruin it.

It’s not that she didn’t want to celebrate his achievement.

She was so so proud of him but her therapy session had got moved up a day because the therapist had to go out of town.

YN didn’t want to bother him so she had went herself without telling him.

It was trauma-focused therapy which meant it was intensive, draining, and overall triggering at time.

Today had sparked a new memory that she had suppressed and she was really struggling to get through the day without his support.

She shouldn’t need him for everything. It wasn’t fair to him.

So she’d sat on her bed for thirty minutes before she managed to pull on a nice dress before curling her hair - zoning out and accidentally burning herself lightly.

Harry had to pick up Anna, offered to pick up YN.

“Hey pup, y’want me t’pick you up on the way?” Harry had called while she was swiping on mascara.

“No, I’ll just Uber,” YN try to keep her tone light but couldn’t stomach sitting in the car with that disgusting woman right now.

“No, let me come get you,” He insists, always preferring to drive her around over some stranger.

“I really don’t want to be in the car with Anna, okay? Just drop it,” YN replies a bit too tersely.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“What’s wrong, puppy?” Harry knows her much to well.

She couldn’t help but bristle, “Nothing. I just have to get ready. Okay? I’ll see you there.”

YN shouldn’t have hung up like that but her hands were shaking and it was taking all of her might to pull herself together to go.

“It’s all your fuckin’ fault your mum hates me,” Her dad had spat at her, right in the kitchen after dinner.

“Fuck,” She mumbles to herself as she drops her lipstick and it rolls under the dresser.

—

She canceled two Ubers before she found a driver who didn’t seem intimidating.

It made her fashionably late, everyone already seated, and it doesn’t make it any better when Anna greets her.

“About time. Can’t even make it at a respectable time for your supposed best friend’s dinner.”

Anna and Gemma both make a grimacing face at the rude comment but Harry interrupts before they interject, “S’okay, Uber’s can be a pain in the arse.”

“Er, yeah. The Uber…” YN mumbles lowly, there was an empty seat across from Harry that had been saved for her.

She could feel Harry’s eyes following her, studying her as she kept her head down and looked on the verge of tears.

“You look too much like your goddamn mother.”

“What d’you want to drink?” Harry asks softly, tapping her foot under the table.

“God Harry, she’s not a child,” Anna rolls her eyes as she glances over her menu.

Harry glares over at her with a strict warning glance that she needs to change her attitude or there is gonna be an issue.

“Just water,” YN replies, swallowing hard.

He knows somethings wrong when she doesn’t bite back at her, instead looking down at the menu like it’s the most interesting thing ever.

Harry had already known by the phone call.

There were quite a few people at the dinner, constantly engaging him in conversation as YN kept to herself.

It’s after the appetizer’s arrive that he can’t stand her fake smiles and attempts to seem like she’s enjoying herself.

“Outside, now,” Harry says firmly, not a question but a statement.

“Harry, don’t,” Anna huffs, not liking the private attention her enemy is about to get.

“I don’t remember askin’ you,” He hisses under his breath before following YN’s retreating figure to the main entrance.

They end up in the small alleyway, “Tell me what’s going on.”

YN’s eyes are moody, putting back on a nonchalant expression that would work for anyone but him, “I’m fine, I don’t know why you’re making a big deal. Let’s go enjoy your dinner.”

Harry backs her up against the brick wall, hand over her shoulder, “We’re not goin’ anywhere until you tel me. M’not stupid.”

It triggers something because she starts sniffling, whispers, “You’re going to be mad at me.”

His hard facial features relax, pressing his forehead to hers, “Please pup, y’know I love you no matter what.”

“My therapist moved our session to today. I went and uh…” YN begins to full on cry, burying her face in her hands.

“C’mon, tell me,” He encourages softly.

“It triggered a repressed memory. I…I didn’t want to ruin tonight for you. I fuck up everything for you already,” She chokes out, letting him pry her hands away.

“Puppy,” He murmurs with a laugh of disbelief, “I fuckin’ wake up everyday because of you. You make my life worth livin’. I’m not happy unless y’are.”

“I just…didn’t want tonight to go like this,” YN sighs quietly, “One night without my trauma.”

“Hey, hey. We’re workin’ through it together, yeah? It takes time. Y’made the effort to come and that means more to me than anything else,” He says truthfully, tilting her chin up.

Harry melts a bit when she leans up to give him a lightening fast peck, “I am so proud of all your accomplishments.”

“Wouldn’t have done any of it without you, sweet girl,” He rubs a thumb under her eye to wipe off a streak of makeup.

They stand outside for a minute longer in a tight hug.

-

When they walk back into the restaurant, Harry quietly asks Gemma to switch YN seats which she graciously agrees without a fuss.

Anna is shooting daggers at YN while the change happens and Harry pushes in her seat for her.

The whole dinner consists of Anna fuming and hanging on every single movement between the two despite her hand on Harry’s thigh.

When he scoops up a bit of his mashed potatoes and feeds them to YN, laughs when she makes a face at the amount of chives mixed in.

It’s like he doesn’t even noticed the casual arm he occasionally throws around the back of YN’s seat as they chat.

“Harry,” YN scolds with a small smile when he steals a shrimp from her plate when she’s not looking.

Anna had shrimp too and he didn’t look once to do that to her.

“S’good, here, have a bite of m’steak. Know Y’don’t like it rare but s’good. I promise,” He encourages, cutting her a thick piece.

How the fuck did Harry know how YN liked her steak?

He didn’t even remember Anna’s favorite color.

“Y’gettin’ sleepy?” Harry whispers to YN towards the end of the meal, his lips are nearly brushing her ear and Anna pinches his thigh hard.

“Fuck,” Harry replies, flinching away from the pain as he turns to his girlfriend, “Wha’ did you do that for?”

“Can you pay at least a little bit of attention to me? I’m your girlfriend despite how much YN wants to pretend she is,” Anna says haughtily, loud enough for her to hear.

Harry is about to snap on her but instead YN speaks up first, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know jealously was on the menu. Eat up, Anna.”

Anna begins to sneer but Harry says, “Why don’t you go take a second in the bathroom? Then we can talk, okay?”

With a little stubbornness, she does - stomping away from the table without looking back at YN who had rolled her eyes.

“Y’on my menu tonight? A bath and cuddle sounds nice,” He offers to his love, thumbing her upper thigh.

“So nice,” YN agrees, “Can we use that sugar cookie bath bomb?”

“Of course, anythin’ you want, m’pup,” Harry hums sweetly, kissing the top of her head.

Anna is walking back when she sees it.

He’s cheating on me.

It flashes through her mind but she pushes it away because she reminds herself that YN is a pathetic little clingy girl who Harry wouldn’t ever like that way.

—

Later that night, Harry holds YN as she recount her memory.

Praises her for being so strong.

Kisses her because he loves her so much it hurts most days.

Assures her that he’ll love her even if she’s never ‘fixed’.

Promises that he’ll never let anyone hurt her again.

—

I’d love feedback 🥺

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[winter-soldier-vibes]

What’s going on with you? (Bucky x reader)

What is going on with you?

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2633

Warnings: Purging, restricting, depression, anxiety

Summary: the reader is a part of the avengers, and has an eating disorder. It used to be worse, but whenever she feels like she makes a mistake r gets into an argument, she slips up. Bucky discovers this one day and tries to help her.

A/N: It has BEEN A BIT. I am home for the semester, and therefore have much more time. I should be able to write more, but I don’t want to get overwhelmed. I’ll make a separate post about what happened. Take care of yourselves!

You stood up on shaky legs, leaning against the sink for support. Your heart was still racing and your head was pounding. You flushed the toilet and looked in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, tear-stained face, and sweat-slicked skin. You looked like you were sunburned and had just had an intense crying session. That or something much more likely.

You looked like you had just been throwing up. Which was the case.

You sighed as you turned on the water, cold. It helped with the redness. You washed your hands first, then cupped them to bring to your face. Ideally, you would shower, but you were too exhausted for that right now. Plus, you had a meeting to get to and this round of purging had taken longer than you had anticipated. Damn pasta nearly choked you on its way back up.

It was methodical. Wash your hands, then your face, make sure your eyes aren’t as bloodshot. Blow your nose 20 times, stick your face in a towel and sigh, take your hair down and make it look more presentable, like when you had come in. finally, when everything is presentable, spray the air freshener and practice your fake smile.

God, you hated this.

You tried to stop. It wasn’t like you enjoyed puking your guts out. But you felt like your say in the matter was long gone.

You either didn’t eat anything or ate and vomited everything. 

Thankfully, no one had picked up on it yet.

You sighed again as you turned off the lights and exited the bathroom. You felt lighter and calmer, although your heart was still racing. Family dinner with the Avengers is always the worst. No excuses to miss, no reasons to not eat, therefore, you just had to take care of it after.

Usually, it wouldn’t have been too bad - you hadn’t eaten anything in days aside from a few apples. But you had fucked up. You were sparring in the gym with Natasha and you kept missing your mark. You were weaker, unable to focus.

God knows why.

Nonetheless, it was a horrible training session and you got your ass beat. Not just normal Natasha-Romanoff-beats-everyone beat, but if-this-was-real-you-would-have-killed-me beat.

Not that that was too undesirable at the moment.

See, usually, you were able to just get away with not eating without trying too hard. But whenever you made a mistake, you felt that urge. You wanted to just eat everything. You don’t know why or where it came from, but you just wanted to eat everything in sight. Just so you could barf it up along with all your negative feelings about yourself.

You had tried to get over your issues with food for so long and it never really worked out. You had gone to therapy and hospitals as a teenager and they would always give up on you. The hospital staff knew your name by looking at you, you were the revolving door patient. Any discharge and goodbye really meant see you at your next admission when you relapse in a few weeks.

It wasn’t really about you recovering. It was about keeping you alive until your next relapse. 

It was better now. You used to be skin and bones, on the verge of dying. Then you started eating and vomiting your feelings. Now you were a healthy weight, no matter how much you tried to lose it. You missed being skin and bones. You wanted to get over this, but you wanted to be thin first. 

You weren’t dying but you weren’t living either. Your eating disorder was better but still was the silent shadow on your life. The only difference was now no one saw it or asked about it. So when you went longer without eating or purged more times, no one noticed. Because no one realized there was something to notice.

You didn’t think it would get better so you stopped hoping it would. You stopped trying. You were an adult now, so you were free to make your own choices. No parents or therapists in your way.

You made it into the common area, where Steve and Bucky were waiting. There were a couple of empty chairs - one for you and one for Sam. you had a mission briefing, and since it was urgent you would be leaving tonight. 

Great. 

You sat down - well, you more fell into your chair - and leaned back and closed your eyes. Bucky, who sat next to you, turned your way slightly and laughed nervously. 

“You okay there, doll?”

You opened your eyes and turned towards him. “Just a little tired I guess. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Bucky chuckled. “You and me both.” He laughed a little, but you knew it was a touchy subject. Nightmares would keep Bucky up for days on end, and the dark circles under his eyes right now told you this week had been relentless for him. 

Steve, ever the one to care about his team, inquired, “Are you okay to do this mission y/n? I can get someone else if you need to -”

“I’m good Cap. Really, I’m fine.” you interrupted, sitting up and flashing a fake smile. 

He smirked a little. “There you are.”

Bucky was a little less convinced. “You sure you’re -”

At that moment Sam burst in and sat down. Steve perked up. “Finally. Alright, everyone’s here, let’s start.”

You caught the first few things that Steve said but began to zone out. You couldn’t focus. You kept your eyes on the files in front of you, but it looked like an entirely different language to you. You pretended to read but your eyes just glossed over the pages and pictures. All you knew was it was a HYDRA base you were going to. But that was a given.

Bucky shook you out of your trance, only for you to realize everyone else had left. You looked at him and he furrowed his brows together. “You sure you’re alright? You totally spaced out.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’m good, sorry. Just tired I guess!” you said lightly, hoping he didn’t hear the nerves in your voice. You stood up and your vision went black for a few moments, so you leaned on the chair with one hand. 

Bucky was by your side in an instant. “I don’t think you’re fine. What’s going on?”

You shooed him off of you and flashed him another bright (fake) smile. “It happens all the time, I swear. It’s fine.” and before Bucky could protest you walked away to get ready to leave. 

You knew you should eat something. You’d only kept down a few apples in the past few days. But you were doing so well, and you didn’t have time to purge should you eat too much. You felt like you were about to pass out though…..

No

You shook the thought out of your head. You had gone longer on less food doing more exercise before. You would be fine.

You put on your uniform and went to the roof to get into the quinjet. Bucky was there as well, Steve up at the front getting ready to pilot. Once again, you were waiting for Sam. no surprise there.

You flashed a small smile to Bucky, and he gave you one back, but you could see the concern on his face. Silence was all there was aside from Steve up at the front. After a few awkward minutes, Sam came jogging in, and with that, you were off. 

“Shouldn’t take too long,” Steve called from the front. “It should just be a small base.”

*skip to the battlefield*

Boy, was Steve wrong. 

You hadn’t known what to expect, but from what Steve said (and how everyone was fighting), it was well over double what they had anticipated. You were with Bucky and Sam was with Steve, everyone fighting HYDRA agents on all fronts. Luckily, they were taking all of the hits. For now. 

As you were fighting, stars swam through your vision. You kept shaking your head trying to reorient yourself, but you were starting to get nervous. Your offensive and defensive moves were both delayed and weaker than usual. Bucky was covering your ass and both of you knew it. 

When all fronts were secured Bucky turned to you, slightly angry but also concerned. “What the hell is going on with you?”

You were panting and your heart was racing. Widened your stance nonchalantly to try and regain some balance, and placed your hands on your hips. “I don’t know…..What you mean…” you said between breaths. 

“You could’ve gotten us both killed! You’re lucky we didn’t all split up y/n. I don’t know what’s gotten into you!” 

You swallowed thickly and blinked back the tears. You tried to speak again, but your mouth went dry and you couldn’t speak. You saw Bucky’s eyes widen as he saw your face go white. He reached his arms out just in time as your knees gave out and you were unconscious.

He didn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you back to the quinjet. Over the coms, he said “Something’s wrong with y/n. I’m bringing her back to the quinjet.”

Steve immediately asked, “What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know but she’s unconscious.”

A pause.

“Stay with her, Sam and I will finish this.”

Bucky laid you down across a few seats and scanned your body for injuries. Maybe a HYDRA agent had sliced you somewhere he hadn’t seen. But he found nothing and didn’t know what to think. No injuries, just a racing heartbeat, a white face, and shallow breathing.

And he was fucking terrified.

He’d never said anything, but the super-soldier had quite the feelings for you. He was always too shy, feeling damaged, and like he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t want to hurt you but what he didn’t realize was you were hurting yourself more than he ever could. 

And he still didn’t know. 

You came to after a few minutes, disoriented. You looked around and your eyes fell on Bucky, who sighed in relief. You tried to sit up but Bucky gently but firmly pushed you back down.

“What happened?” you asked groggily

“You passed out y/n.” he deadpanned

Your eyes widened. Shit…

“Does that also happen ‘all the time?’ Or is there something else going on?” he asked firmly, still worried about you but you mistook it for anger.

You felt tears prick your eyes and your face heated up with shame and embarrassment. You put a hand over your face, hiding your eyes. “I’m fine, Buck,” you said, but your voice cracked and you knew you didn’t sound convincing at all. 

“To hell you are! What the fuck is going on with you?” he nearly yelled, causing you to flinch. Bucky softened a little, and you started letting out small sobs, shoulders shaking. Bucky helped you sit up and pulled you into an embrace, hushing you and rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you kept mumbling and Bucky just held you tighter. 

He was terrified. He had a feeling that something was wrong but he didn’t know it was something this bad. He didn’t even know what was wrong yet. “Please, y/n. Tell me what’s wrong. I just wanna help you.”

You shrugged. “No one can help me anymore.”

Bucky stiffened at your words, oh too familiar to his own thinking. But what could possibly have you feeling that way? You were the kindest person he had ever met. What could have you feeling so down? “Please tell me what’s going on y/n.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, unable to find the words to say. “I just...Sometimes I….and it’s just hard…..I don’t know what…” you exhaled, unable to form a coherent thought. After taking a few deep breaths, you closed your eyes and tried again. “I throw up sometimes.”

Bucky pulled back and looked you in the eyes with concern. “Are you sick? Why didn’t you say something, we could have brought you to medical -”

“It’s not like that Buck.” you cut him off and looked to the side. “Not exactly.”

He furrowed his brows and cocked his head. Why would you be throwing up if you weren’t sick?

You took another deep breath. “It’s a long story, and it’s depressing and I’m sorry. It’s just...I hate myself and I just need to lose weight and I’ve done this my whole life and I try to be healthy and sometimes I don’t eat for days and then I eat and I can’t stop and then I hate myself more and then I just need to get rid of it and I throw up and I can’t stop and ithurtstobadijustneedittostop-”

“Hey hey, breath…” Bucky said as he pulled you in, and you realized how you were hyperventilating. You tried to calm down and focus on Bucky’s heartbeat, trying to follow his forced deep breathing patterns. After a few minutes you felt yourself calming down. Still locked in his embrace, Bucky began to ask questions softly.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since I was a teenager.”

“Why did it start?”

“‘Dunno.”

Some silence passed between you. 

“When was the last time you ate?”

Silence. 

You sighed. “Technically a few hours ago, but I didn’t keep it down.” you said softly. “Before that an apple a couple days ago.”

You felt him inhale sharply and swallow, wrapping his hands around you a little tighter. “Y/n…”

“I know, I try to stop I really do but it’s so hard.” you said, voice cracking and fresh tears filling your eyes. 

More silence passed between the two of you. Eventually Bucky took a deep breath before asking, “Can I try and help you?”

You let out a dry laugh. “I’ve tried getting help for years Buck… It never really sticks. It never gets better. I stopped hoping that it would.”

Bucky’s heart shattered. He’d never seen you so defeated before. And it scared him how much you sounded like his own thoughts surrounding his nightmares. “It can always get better doll. Please don’t stop trying. Please, let me help you. Talk to me, talk to any of us...But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You passed out y/n, and it could get a lot worse...I can’t watch you do that to yourself. I care to much about you. We all do.”

You looked up at him. “You sure you wanna get involved in this? I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He smiled back at you. “You could never disappoint me with this. You’re trying your best, that’s all I can ask for.”

You smiled a little, still skeptical but nodded anyways. Maybe he really could help you. Maybe things could get better. 

And it was hard. There were days you slipped up, days you broke dishes, snapped at Bucky, locked yourself in your room, and found yourself bent over the toilet again. But there were also days that you couldn’t stop laughing, you enjoyed movie nights with the team, and family dinners weren’t so hard. It was a long journey, but that was exactly it - there wasn’t a destination. It was all a process. One that you had help with now. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything.

[beelspillowpet]

Hello... Could you do some headcanons of the brothers reacting to MC having an ED? Like... Food restriction and p*rging, and, yeah... All of that... Sorry if this is very weird and/or uncomfortable... I struggle with that and I kinda seek comfort... Thanks

So I’ll be the first to say; you’re perfectly fine in asking for this request. You’re not alone in your fight with eating disorders; I have one as well. I try not to touch on it too much in my own media with my characters and such, but I hope you manage to overcome yours, anon. Learning to eat more (or less) is so important and it’s so hard to try and force ourselves to do it right. Please don’t feel like you’re a burden for this ask, it’s brave to even say it outloud, despite being on anon. You’re brave, you’re strong, and you can overcome this.

MC Has An Eating Disorder

CONTENT WARNING BELOW THE CUT!!!! Eating Disorders | Depressive Themes | Generally triggering - please be careful with reading this one.

PLEASE speak to a professional or call the hotline ( (571) 257-3378 ) if you feel like it’s getting beyond your control. Take CARE of yourselves. I don’t know you personally, but I would be sad if you weren’t able to help yourself, especially with how harsh the world has been for the past year.

Lucifer

He notices you don’t eat much at dinner. Originally suspects it’s because the food palette is far from what humans are used to. I mean, brains? From a dragon? They may be Belphie’s favorite, but you weren’t Belphie, now were you? He decides to try and cook (and have his brothers do the same) much tamer foods.

It doesn’t seem to work at first, with how you barely seem to eat. Sometimes you can feel his eyes on you, so you force yourself to scarf down whatever you can before handing the rest to Beel. He keeps an eye on you closely. He invites you to dinners, brunch, the likes. He’s just trying to see what you will and won’t eat.

It’s amazing how he hadn’t caught on to such an obvious answer yet. What makes him realize it though, is after he’s cleaned up from your lunch with him, he finds you in the bathroom, emptying your stomach. He doesn’t fully understand it still. You’ve been found out to been doing this for a long time; even before you got here to the Devildom.

He suspected you were just a smaller person. Something in him just couldn’t believe you were doing this to yourself. He wanted to know why, but getting an answer out of you didn’t seem like a good idea. Chances are you didn’t know either. He brings it up carefully while you two are alone. He explains why he’s concerned, instead of being roundabout with it, choosing to be direct. He cares about you, not just for Diavolo’s sake. He wants you to be able to take care of yourself when he can’t look after you anymore.

Mammon

Is probably the first to notice that you’re starving yourself, save for Beel. He’s been in the business of being a model for long enough, he’s seen others starve themselves and purge just to look thinner. That’s exactly what he catches you doing one day.

He’s worried. He’s dealt with helping his fellow models out with this sort of thing in the past. Albeit not as sensitive, he always managed to get his point across with others. But you? You were eating fine one day, and then for the next three or four days you barely ate anything at all. It’s like you were punishing yourself.

His approach is similar to Lucifer’s but a little more experienced in his talk. He’s explaining that he’s worried about you, and that you need to get some food in you if you’re gonna be able to do anything. With each bit of resistance you give, any excuse you can give, he shoots it down quickly. Mammon has probably heard it a thousand times before. You’re not getting off easy.

He’s trying to be soft yet firm about this. You can tell even he is nervous about this confrontation. Regardless of how you take it, he’s patient and supportive. He even asks you if you’re doing this for a specific reason. He doesn’t expect you to be able to eat full meals the very next day. He catches you snacking on foods every once in a while. Thankfully, healthy stuff instead of junk food. It’s not much, but it’s something for your sake.

Leviathan

He knows almost immediately. He may or may not have a similar issue. Maybe not to the same degree, but he understands it. He decides to wait until you two are alone. Probably in his room. Still he waits, he waits until he can form the words in his head.

When he finally does pick the perfect moment, it’s probably not in his room while you two were watching anime or playing games. He’d likely chickened out in that moment, too afraid of upsetting you with the topic. Instead, he’s now in your room, standing at the door way. Like he’s an intruder, coming to scream at you for your problems.

His words are running together and he’s on the verge of tears. He practiced what he was going to say nearly a thousand times over, but he can barely get a sentence going before the dam breaks and he’s crying. How is he supposed to help you when he can’t even fix his own horrible eating habits? He gets so wrapped up in his otaku life that he sometimes forgets to eat. So who is he to lecture you?

He sits down with you, and you both look into how to fix this. While his problems aren’t as severe, yours definitely are. He doesn’t want to be dramatic, but you seeing a professional about this is probably the best course of action. Neither of you can build up the courage to ask someone else in the house for help, so you call a doctor together. Therapy is now on the table for options of seeking help, and while reluctant still, you wouldn’t bare to see Leviathan like that again. It was for you after all. You wanted to feel better, so he could feel better too.

Satan

Doesn’t pick up on it immediately, but once he does realize it, he’s on to you about it. He makes little remarks about it here and there, never teasing, but very curious. He’s trying to play armchair therapist and figure out what’s causing you to do this to yourself.

Eventually he comes to you while you’re alone and asks you about it. He’s calm and respectful the entire time, trying to get you to open up to him. Is it a lack of control in your life? He can relate to that. Not everyone gets forced to live in Hell for a year and be an exchange student.

He doesn’t exactly shut down each of your attempts of denial so easily as Mammon might, but he���s trying his best. The nonsensical pattern of your eating habits throws him through a loop, and he’s not sure if he’s able to keep up.

He does get one of his friends involved, who happens to be an expert in this field. He just wanted to wager for himself how severe the problem was before he got any help involved. He’s only hoping you can snap out of it and get yourself together. He doesn’t want you starving yourself for any reason.

Asmodeus

Like Levi, he may or may not have had a similar problem. Maybe to the same tune as a model, but it’s not a severe case. Regardless, when he catches you starving yourself, he’s unnerved by it. You said you weren’t hungry but your stomach is growling for food. Everyone thought it might have been Beel’s stomach, but it’s yours.

You’re only eating specific things at specific times. You can’t allow yourself to snack at all, and sometimes when you do, you withhold yourself from eating anything for the next day or so. Sometimes you won’t even leave your room. on those days.

Asmo is smart, so when you start wearing bigger clothes in vain hopes to cover up your skinny body, he steps in. He’s soft spoken and gentle, telling you how much he loves you and cares about you. He’s not afraid to tell you that your eating habits are hurting your body. He’s careful about it, and he’s trying to make sure you understand where he’s coming from. He’s doing this because he sees so many things that can go wrong with this. He doesn’t want any of them to become a reality.

With his help, you start to pick healthier things to eat. You aren’t eating full meals yet, let alone half your plate, but it’s more food than you were consuming before. He keeps you at it and overtime starts to see even more progress with you. He’s glad you’re coming around with his help.

Beelzebub

He for one, is glad that you seem to eat a lot. It’s not every day you see a human able to put food away like he does. Well- not quite like how he does, but close enough! You eat normally while in the dining room with the brothers, but then at night when everyone is in their rooms, you’ll go to the kitchen with him and eat the entire fridge’s contents.

You figured the last person to notice these issues is someone else who has a problem with their eating habits. While Bele isn’t exactly a human, you could consider his eating habits similar to just bingeing. Almost constantly, at that. Disappearing after eating with him is common practice. You’ll rush to the bathroom and purge your stomach of all its contents you had just consumed. Part of you is extremely guilty, eating all that food just so you could throw it up later.

Beel is a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. At some point, he does catch you throwing up into the toilet. He was coming to take a shower before leaving for RAD when he found you doubled over the bowl. It was a few minutes after breakfast. He had figured by now, you’d been doing this for a while, long enough to where you’d start turning the sink on (sometimes flushing the toilet or turning on the shower) to hide the sounds. It didn’t work today.

He didn’t understand why you’d do this to yourself. He’d never really heard of eating disorders before, and always assumed it was normal to just eat whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. He figured trying to be careful with his own eating habits around you, would help you learn to eventually figure out how much you could eat. He’s patient, always talking to you while you eat with him, trying to distract your brain from the stress of eating. When you can’t finish all of your food that’s okay; he’s there to eat however much is left. It works out perfect for the both of you. He just wants to make sure you’ve at least eaten enough for your own body first.

Belphegor

Pica is a strange one. Belphie knows about these sorts of things. His twin brother is Beel, how could he not?

He’s almost certain you’ve got it. He’s never seen a human eat things like dirt, mud, or rocks. Beel, of course has eaten an entire pillar in the Demon Lord’s castle, but he’s not human. He’s not even a normal demon. You, on the other hand, are presumed to be a totally normal human. And humans don’t eat rocks.

He doesn’t know how to properly bring it up at first. He takes you up to the attic for a nap, and while you’re both laying there together, realizes that you two are alone. Now is just as good of a time as any, right?

Because it’s such a fatal things, Belphie is more than just determined to help you. As soon as possible, you’re seeing a doctor for this. He wants you to feel good about yourself, and your body can’t be feeling good if it doesn’t have normal foods to keep itself going. It may seem a bit selfish, but he wants to make it up to you. If you can’t properly care for yourself, he’ll make it his life’s goal to care for you. 

[blushing-starker]

starker + 9 🥺

Peter's doing it again. Trying to merge with Tony, fuse their bodies together even when the boy knows it isn't possible unless several bones are tossed away. But it's his boyfriend. Peter doesn't stop attempting something unless a freight train knocks him out. There are, unfortunately, no trains in the tower.

He's kidding.

(He's not, Tony's got a pointy elbow digging into a stomach a bit too fleshy for his liking, skinny knees knocking harshly against his own and fluffy hair up to his nose. He loves the kid, he does. But these cuddle sessions are leaving purple bruises every time Pete forgets his strength and squeezes Tony lovingly.

It's cute.

He's dying.)

The screen flashes, sunset orange assaulting them as the Manda(d)lorian blows up what looks like the alien monster Thanos stored his troops in. Peter, a painful blessing, wiggles even closer to provide comfort and chase away horrible memories he's too young to have. It's one of the only reasons Tony's thankful for the age difference; Peter was too busy enjoying his childhood with May and Ben to really focus on the demons that haunted the concrete jungle and, years later, the billionaire's nights.

A stray curl of brown hair goes into Tony's mouth, now Pete's in his lap and Jesus, he needs to exercise with Rhodey if the kid can so easily get him winded. It's ridiculous, Pete can't be much more than a hundred and twenty pounds when he's wet but his chest still heaves like the time he and honey bear had to sprint through the whole MIT campus so they wouldn't be late for a final test.

Maybe he's just tired from playing with Morguna yesterday? Yeah, that makes a lot more sense than his spiderling exhausting Tony so suddenly when just two days ago he pinned Peter to the wall and-

Sniffling. There's sniffling. His shirt is wet, tremors are wracking Peter's blanket covered body and what the hell happened, no enemy is near, nobody died and his boyfriend didn't mention anything bad getting him down at school. Oh god, is his lover hurt? No, no, Friday would have notified Tony. He thinks about all the dates May has drilled into his head and no traumatic anniversary is even close to today.

Pete hides his face against the arc reactor for all of two nanoseconds before Tony is tugging him up like a sorrowful puppy, tucking the boy's knees on either side of his hips so Tony can properly face the creature softly sobbing.

"Hey, hey, baby, what's wrong? Are you hurt anywhere? Do you wanna shut that off, head to our room and cuddle under your fave blankets? Maybe eat breakfast at midnight? Cuz you know I can wake Sam up and he'll cook that French Toast you like. With the, you're still crying. Oh, hey. I can steal Strange's cape. There's my puppy eyed boy. Tell me what's wrong and I'll snatch it in five minutes."

He'd feel bad about negotiating, but Peter has strictly informed Tony in the past that there's no other way to get him out of his head. A cause and effect type of dynamic helps Peter rationalize; if he explains the situation, Tony can help resolve it. It's a system that always makes things bearable, brings Peter back into reality much more quickly than anything else. Unless there are puppies. Then he can skip away from internal shadows in chase of cute dogs within five seconds.

"It's just," Tony inhales deeply, mentally prepares himself for nightmares, terrible flashbacks or another bully determined to make his baby sad, "don't laugh. I'm serious about this, ok?"

That lower lip wobbles and he's ready to go, body prepared to leap off the building and hunt down any threat that's causing half of his heart to sob like this. "I promise I won't laugh at you. I would never, ever laugh at something that causes you pain, Pete. I promise I'll help in any way I can. Tell me what's wrong."

A slow inhale now so Peter can copy him and explain without being in the verge of an attack. Two, five, ten beats of his heart dedicated to calming the kid. He still burst into tears.

"You're just such a good dad, Tony." Pete crumbles, cries into his neck and what the fuck just happened? How is this his life? Something chirps from the tv and Baby Yoda runs towards his father. The exact same way Morgan ran to Tony last night.

Even if Peter dumps him because of it, he's canceling the fucking show.

"Peter Benjamin Parker, are you drunk? Or high? I'm gonna put you to bed and you will sleep until those neurons wake up again because this is the weirdest thing you've ever done. Come on, no, don't use your super strength, that's cheating."

His sweet, adorable, exhausting boyfriend shakes his head, refuses to move and Tony relents, huffs into warm hair just to be petty. "You're so soft with her, Tony, just like Mando and the baby. And it's really cute, and pure, and wholesome, ok?"

"So you're crying about it at midnight?"

"I'm a sensitive person, Mr Tin Can.

"Jesus, Pep wasn't like this when pregnant," it's a low murmur but Pete still slaps his arm, sends Tony flailing onto the floor with the kid on his lap. Definitely gonna work out with Rhodey.

"You see? This is what you do to me, Peter. Give me a heart attack and bruises. I think we're gonna invade some professor's office to fix an unfair grade and you're crying because of a green puppet."

"Hey! He's more than that, he's adorable." More sniffling. He's getting this kid a therapist.

"FIne, an adorable green puppet. I'm gonna get you waffles and the cape and access to the show if you stop giving me injuries. Now help me up, I'm pretty sure my back can't take this."

Nothing. Not a twitch. Why does Tony always fall for the stubborn ones? "I'll let you braid my hair with Morgan tomorrow, so please assist an old man, oh God." Peter heaves him up, nearly throws Tony into a wall before controlling that superhuman strength and leaving his boyfriend upside down on his shoulder.

Well, at least he isn't crying anymore.

(They watch the next episode with Morgan. They both sob on his chest, mutter something about being a wonderful father and yeah, he's happy they think that, glad he's creating a better legacy than the one he inherited but Tony's 99% sure every Avenger is wiping away tears and there isn't enough Kleenex for all of them when they wail about "pure and wholesome" relationships.

He buys the team Baby Yoda plushies. Just to calm them down.)

(Peter finds one hidden away in the closet and grins because his boyfriend is as much of a dork as he is.)

[malereader-inserts]

Time in a Tree

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner & Son!Reader Summary: “I’m needy, greedy, love me, feed me, let’s be a family. It’ll take a village to make a man out of me.” Word Count: 1,886 Request: @imtheamericanhorrorstory​ “It's a Criminal Minds one, a dad!hotch. Do you think you could do one where the reader is in their teens, and they feel like they're drifting from their dad cause hotch is always away on a case.” A/n: Inspired by the song “Time in a Tree” By Raleigh Ritchie, please listen to this song - it’s so good. I hope I got everything in the request, I didn't add in the request description because it’ll take up too much space but I should have included most, if not all, the points you wanted. 

When you were a young boy, you had a very close relationship. He would somehow try and make time for you, be at your sport games and all your class performances. He entertained your hobbies and encouraged your likes, tried to broaden your horizons but as you got older, your dad was less around. 

And you weren’t jealous of your little brother, Jack, you understood that your dad was trying to give him an equalised childhood as you did. But, there are days were you wished it was like the old times - when it was your old man and you against the world. All you ever do was be like your dad. 

You had to admit, what your dad do is pretty impressive. He’s a hero in a normal world, taking down bad guys and making the world safer for his boys. You can’t fault him for being so busy, but you just wanted to is go back to the baseball court to hit some of his throws. Challenge him to a one on one basketball game. 

You just want time in a tree, where you can have a pace just for you, to relieve the bitterness within your mind, soul and mouth of your father. A place where you could be free. There was a thought that you could make a big thing about him not making time for you, or you could be rebellious so he is forced to look at you, to give his time to you.

“I’m back!” He called out into the apartment, dropping his keys in the table, placing his bag down and kicking off his shoes.

“Daddy!” Jack greeted, but you rolled your eyes and turned up your music so you blocked them out with you’re earphone.

“(Y/n),” Your dad called, but there was no reaction as Jessica shakes her head.

“He’s been like this for weeks,” Your aunt says, shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t know what made him like this. He’s not on probation with his team and it’s not like he’s failing any of his classes.”

Hotch hums, before attending to Jack. An hour later, he was hoping that your mood had disappeared at dinner, however you make no eye contact and whenever he tries to strike up a conversation with you, you reply in short answers and very snappy. Jessica sighs, worrying for you as Aaron was slowly trying not to lose his anger. 

As dinner finished, your dad had stopped you from going to your room. But, the hatred within your eyes takes him a back. It seems like you make mistakes as if they’re handed out on a plate as your emotions got the best of you.

“Fuck off!” You screamed at him, pushing past him, slamming your door shut.

Just as Aaron had came back to reality, both him and Beth had heard your move your dresser in front of the door to prevent him from storming into your room.  You sighed, knowing you weren’t helping solve the problem, it’s almost as if you’re always on the verge of tears all the time because you can human right.

“Teenagers,” Aaron sighs, running his hand through his hair, looking at Beth, “They never give you a rule book on how to manage them.”

You get wound up, from the ground up, and you don’t know why. You pull in your phone into the speaker, hoping the drown out the noise in the corridor. You don’t even hear your aunt Jessica leave the apartment for the weekend.

You got yourself an anxious heart, perhaps why your dad doesn’t want to spend time with you is because you did something you hadn’t realised. The weekend passed, you haven’t had much to talk to your father, only being respectful when Jack was around. Aaron did try his best to interact with you, there was something definitely bothering you however you just couldn’t say it, a week had past that he hadn’t need to go off to another case, a standard office week.

Until, Jess had agreed to take Jack for the weekend, you return home from baseball practice that finished early. You walked in and saw your dad sitting at the dining room table with work.

“Oh, you’re back early, how was practice?” He asked as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It was fine?” You responded, slightly snappy, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

Just as you were about to retreat to your room, your dad finally snapped, “No, (Y/n), you’re going to sit here and tell me what is going on? This behaviour, this-”

“You’re a profiler why don’t you figure it out yourself?” You snapped, in fact this was the most that Hotch was able to get out of you, “I’m not going sit around and tell you my problems as if you’re my therapist.”

“(Y/n),” He snapped, loud and sharp but there was no reaction from you and that scared Hotch, because he never wanted to raise his voice at you but the fact he had no reaction to it means there was something up. 

“What?” You snapped back, “What is it that I have your undivided attention now, dad? What is it? Please entertain me, because if you can’t do that then why waste my time.”

“I just want to know what’s trouble you,” Hotch stood up, looking at you as you look at him with distain, “Tell me what is going with you?”

“As if you’d give a shit about that,” You seethed, “You’re more concern about yourself than anyone else.”

“Language-” Your dad calls you out with a bold voice but you gritted your teeth and gripped your hand into a close fist.

Your chest heaved up then back down, you didn’t shout at him but it hurt more. The low, unbothered tone that came out of you, “Fuck off.”

You stormed away, slamming the door shut, leaving your dad wondering what he had done so wrong in your eyes. Most days you struggle and you get snappy. Fuck all that, you just want to be happy. You feel like you’re swimming against the currents? 

Did you feel like you were in the wrong? Yes, all you wanted was your dad again but you just kept pushing him away, further and further away. Sometimes you really wish you were ten again, just you and sonic and there was no one telling you that you should be more than you are. 

Monday morning came, there was a call from JJ saying the had a case. You stood in the living room, getting ready for school as Hotch looks at you, all suited up ready for work.

“I’m going now, (Y/n),” Hotch says softly as you continue to ignore him, “I love you.”

You turn to look at him, before turning away to grab your bad. Hotch stops for a bit, sighing and grabbing his keys. Nodding a goodbye to Jessica and saying bye to Jack. He turns to you once more, but leaves without you saying good bye.

Ten days, the case lasted. You were used to your dad’s frequent absent. But, your mind was racing, your aunt had told you that your dad was shot during the case. You felt like your world was crumbling, falling apart, and the last time you had saw your dad was that fact you had ignored him saying “I love you.”

He was alive, Jessica had said that it was minor and your dad was fine, no surgery at all was required but you couldn’t help but think what if that was the last time you had saw your dad? You were an idiot teenager, finding it hard to express himself in horrid world. All your dad wanted was to help you, and the thing wanted the most, you pushed away.

What if he had died? What if you had became an orphan. You lost mom, you couldn’t lose your dad too. You grew with your dad being your hero, you’ve seen things that you never should have seen, and said too many thing you didn’t mean. You’re kid, you don’t know anything better, you’ve been lying to yourself too long, been trying by yourself too long.

You can’t relax, you’re too distracted, you just can’t seem to hack it.

You were alone at home, tears running down your face with Jack at your aunt Jess’ house. You weren’t really expecting your dad to come home. He did hear your sobs, quiet and they were slowing down as if you had been crying for so long that you were running out of tears. You sniffed as you lean back into the sofa, slouching and hugging a pillow.

“(Y/n)?” Hotch called out, turning on the lamp on so it doesn’t blind you. He wonders why you were sitting in the dark, “Oh, boy, come here.”

Hotch sits down next to you, opening his arms up to you. You hesitantly move the pillow before letting yourself melt into your father’s grasp. You found yourself sobbing once again, it wasn’t too loud or harsh but there were tears falling as your dad grips you. Rubbing your back.

“Why are you crying?” He ask softly, allowing you to keep hugging him, his arms wrapped around you strongly.

“What if you had died, dad? And the last thing I did was ignore you?” You asked, sniffling, “And all I ever wanted to do was...”

You stop short, pulling away from your dad and wiping away the tears. Shuffling away only slightly as your shoulders deflate.

“You’re always away dad, we don’t feel like a family anymore - I miss mom as much as you do but... I’m needy, greedy. Love me, feed me, let’s be a family. For once, I just want my old man back, going to my sport games, challenging me into a one-to-one game of basketball. I want us to be back to normal  - and I don’t know why it’s so hard to ask.” 

“Is that why you’ve been...?” Aaron had asked you as you sighed, it wasn’t a spiteful one that he’s been hearing however.

“Sorry,” You say, defeated, “It’s going to take a village to make a man out of me.”

There was a tinge of humour within the sentence as Aaron shakes his head, surprisingly he wasn’t angry, but, he was upset that you had felt like that.

“When’s your next game?” He had asked you as you turn your head, perking up just a little bit, “I’ll be there and I’ll bring the team, they’ve been missing you.”

“Have they?”

“Yes, (Y/n), I’m surprised myself that they haven’t seen you play yet,” Aaron says with a smile as you smile back, “And we can go out for lunch that day as well, how is that? We do anything you want on the weekend, just us two. I’ll ask your aunt to look after Jack an-”

“That’ll be great dad,” You interrupted, “Thanks.”

Your eyes soften, you mean it with you heart and so Aaron smiles back, patting you on the shoulder and ruffling your hair. You and him will have a longer talk in the morning, but all the things that needed to be said had been said. 

You have your dad back, that’s all you care about.

[alolowrites]

Comforting Words

Summary: You return to the U.A. dorms following a disastrous date. Surprisingly Bakugou offers some “comforting words” to you.

Author’s note: As promised, here is the story to celebrate reaching 100 followers!!! Thank you all so much for this! Story is kinda a sequel to “Laundry Night” (idk) ??? Either way, it just seemed fitting to share another Bakugou story to mark such an occasion.

Enjoy!

~~~

I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid!

You figuratively and literally slapped yourself as you marched to your dorm building at like 10:35pm on a Saturday night. Marching to the shared kitchen, you carelessly threw your ice cream pint onto the counter. As you rummaged through the drawers, a growl escaped your mouth when you couldn’t find one spoon. Any other day you would see spoons left and right, yet they magically disappeared when you needed them the most.  

Searching through the billions of utensils in the drawer, you finally found the main prize. Your attention went to the ice cream pint and your fingers furiously tugged on the lid to no avail. Now you were on the verge to punch someone. Why was the universe being so cruel? Did you accidentally piss them off? Are they having some mood swing, because honey this ain’t it.

Why won’t you open?!

“Are you really so pathetic that you can’t open the flimsy ice cream cover?”

You stopped struggling and slammed both your hands against the counter. Closing your eyes, you breathed through your nostrils to calm yourself. Bakugou saw your back and the harsh glare peering over it.

“I’m not in the mood, Bakugou,” you snarled at him. “If you want to insult me, give me two to three business days.”

“Should I send a Google calendar invite to remind you?” He mocked.

Of course he threw that at you.

A piece of hair fell over your eyes and you blew it away. Grabbing the cold pint, you spun around to face your tormentor. Bakugou leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and wore his favorite black shirt.

It was also your favorite shirt. The fabric shamelessly emphasized his Spartan-like muscles as a result of his vigorous training. Feeling your eyes rake at his tone arms, you mentally forced some self-control. You never wanted to give this buffoon the satisfaction that you admired his top-notch physique.

No…you would never hear the end of it from him. So to save face, you diverted your eyes back to the ice cream pint freezing your hand and frowned.

Stupid hormones.

Without looking up, you asked: “Why are you here?”

“You were being too loud,” Bakugou complained. You barked out a dry laugh while snapping your head up.

“I’m being to loud!?” You pointed to yourself with eyebrows raised. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. DIE-DIE-DIE! I’m surprised you’re not croaking like a dying frog.”

He ignored your comment. “You’re upset, what the hell happened?”

“Why do you care?” You shot back at him.

“Answer the fucking question, idiot, I’m not asking again.”

So now he wants to be a damn therapist?

“Hmph, fine.” You lifted the cover and reclined against the counter to make yourself comfortable. “My date was an asshole. Everything was fine at first, you know? He took me to this nice restaurant and we were hitting it off. Everything was perfect—the mood, the scenery, the food. Then one thing lead to another,” you lowered your chin, “and he kissed me…”

Distracted, you didn’t catch Bakugou’s fists clenching and his scowl growing deeper. “I didn’t ask for a recap of your crappy romantic date!”

“It’s important to the damn story!” You yelled at him, thrusting your spoon his way. “And you’re the one who asked! If I have to suffer through this date again, you’re suffering with me so buckle up, firecracker.”

Said firecracker seethed, but stayed quiet. You took it as sign to continue. “So anyway, he kissed me and next thing you know, some lady’s claws ripped me apart from him. They were actual claws by the way, like her nails were soooo long, I was surprised she didn’t scratch my face.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Apparently the guy used me to get his ex-girlfriend jealous so they can get back together,” you venomously spat out. “I gave that guy a Texas-smash slap and threw cold water at him. With ice cubes, for good measure too.”

A second later, you angrily stabbed the ice cream which took Bakugou by surprised. However, he quickly recovered and watched as you blindly attacked the delicious delicacy that was a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream pint.

“I felt so humiliated—”

Stab.

“—and used—“

Stab, stab.

“—and ugh!”

The spoon dropped. It clanked against the floor and you didn’t move for a moment. With flushed cheeks, you discarded the ice cream that was now a swirling mess. Slumping backwards, your back hit the kitchen drawers while you pinched the bridge of your nose. Tears dangerously emerged in your eyes, but you forced them to stay put. There was no way you were going to cry in front of him.

One hand weakly gestured towards Bakugou. You felt like a deflated balloon. “Go ahead, tell me that I’m just a dumbass with peasant problems.”

“Well you are a dumbass,” he started and you figured much. “But you’re a dumbass for moping over some garbage idiot like him.”

…what?

You didn’t expect that kind of response. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you gave him a ridiculous stare. Bakugou sighed loudly and slid his hand over his face as if he needed to spell out something so obvious.

“Look, you’re sulking over an asshole who never respected you,” he explained. Your ears carefully listened to every word. “Even though you stood up for yourself, you’re still letting that bastard win by acting all sad and shit.”

You stupidly blinked.

“Quit whining and realize he was never in your league in the first place,” he grunted as his crimson irises narrowed at you. “He’s not worth shedding tears over for, so don’t you dare start fucking crying.”

He left you speechless and you gawked at him.

Never in your life did you expect Bakugou to comfort someone…well, comfort anyone in general really. Did he give you a soft cuddle, patting your head saying everything was going to be okay? Hell no. Instead you got the Bakugou-version of it where he slapped some sense into your sorry-ass for moaning after some douche.

“I hate how right you areee,” you groaned dramatically into the air. Bakugou snorted at your reaction, but didn’t say anything else. Bringing your head down, you let out a soft chuckle and grinned at him. “I shouldn’t let that bastard make me feel so shitty. How dare he make me almost act out a cliche movie scene where I cry myself into an ice cream pint. The nerve of him…”

“Damn right.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but—” you inhaled for the melodramatic effect “—thank you, Bakugou, for your comforting, albeit unconventional, words.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered while looking away, hoping you didn’t catch the blush flaring up his cheeks. “Just as long as you stop stomping in here like a damn rhino.”

Your face briefly fell. “Ok, rude.”

He shot you a tiny smirk and the butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

Suddenly the floor became more interested and you remembered the mess you made. A curse flew out of your mouth as you snatched a paper towel to clean up the spot. After finding another spoon, you looked at your ice cream on the counter. It was slightly melted, but there was no way you were going to throw it away. In front of you was a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and you spent good money on this baby.

“So,” you tapped your finger on the pint and took one bite of your dessert. “I guess we’re done here.”

“Guess so,” he nonchalantly shrugged.

Very well then, you thought as you slowly walked towards the doorframe where Bakugou stood and paused. It took all your willpower not to shrink away considering how close you two were. Your eyes boldly stared into his and neither of you said a word. The room was so silent you prayed Bakugou couldn’t hear your heart throbbing loudly against your chest.

No. Not yet.

“Well,” you broke the silence and flashed him a playful smile. “At least I now know there is a nice troll under the bridge.”

Not missing a beat, you rushed out of the kitchen with a hearty laugh before Bakugou had a chance to blast your annoying face out of existence.

~~~

Fun fact: originally this story was not going to be published. It was sitting in my “Unreleased Cuts” folder for some time because I wasn’t feeling the plot’s direction. Left it alone, came back to it and fixed it up. 

And here we are! 

Thank you again for reading :)

[deansawthetvglow]

Emphasis

2.1k

destiel first meetings, deancentric, potential for more story. cas is like barely in this

“death is promised to the bee whose sting protects the colony”

--

he’s 24, it should be gone by now, he needs to grow out of it but god dammit, there it is. a constant looming presence. the fact of the matter is, dean winchester has a severe phobia of wasps, bees—anything that buzzes past him that he can’t identify immediately— and he can’t help it. it’s irrational, he knows it’s irrational, in fact he kind of loves bees, he knows how important they are, how his mom used to love them, and dammit he’s an adult and he needs to get over it already. (it’s kinda why he loves hunting, they’re either in the car (dean keeps his windows rolled up) or out at night sneaking into some monster’s lair)

so it’s decided, dean’s gonna suck it up and find a therapist. he goes with the third one in the phone book, she looks kind (hot), and she specializes in anxiety disorders. dean sets an appointment.

he starts attending weekly, thanking the fraudulent card he carries that he’s not spending real money on this endeavor. his therapist, Lisa, is easy on the eyes, so it helps the sessions feel more palatable. he also ignores how, every time she asks him a question, he feels so vulnerable it hurts. he’s always on the verge of tears there, but he’d never admit it. he’s thankful his dad’s out on a string of solo hunts and he can keep grounded here, at least until he can wean off the sessions.

on a tuesday, dean finds a dead wasp on the windowsill of his motel room. he nearly bolts from the room, but something is keeping him grounded. he takes deep breaths like lisa recommended, he closes his eyes for a moment and just repeats “it’s dead, it’s dead, it can’t hurt you, it’s dead.” when he opens his eyes, and the wasp is still there, he feels a bit better. he doesn’t do anything about it, just cohabitates with it until his thursday session. he tells lisa about it and she quirks her lip up in a half smile. she has a glint in her eye that almost scares him, but after all this time, he trusts her, he honestly does. at the end of their time, she stands and tells dean she’s got homework for him. he almost groans, but he keeps it to himself. she pulls out one of her desk drawers and presents dean with a small mason jar. she places it in his hands and gives him a mission: get the wasp into the jar and bring it with him for next time.

he’s nervous already, but he nods, he wants this to work, he needs this to work.

when he gets back to the motel, he opens the door, peeking at the windowsill to make sure it’s still there before he pulls himself into the room. it takes him an hour of pacing, tears brimming, breaths shallow and panicked, before he finally gets the courage to do it. he grabs a pen from the side table and walks to the window. he holds the open mason jar under the sill, lines his pen up behind the wasp and squeezes his eyes shut as he sweeps his pen across the surface. 

when he opens them, the wasp is sitting at the bottom of the jar and dean nearly drops it, but he convinces himself to get the jar top and seals it with frantic, shaky hands. when the wasp is secure, he sets the jar on the sill and collapses into bed. it felt terrible, but he did it. he fucking did it.

on his drive to the practice that week, he puts the wasp in the passenger seat so he can keep an eye on the jar. even carrying the thing is torture as he ascends the stairs to lisa’s office. when he gets to her waiting room, she’s already got her door open and he enters, trying to keep cool as he sets the wasp on the table between them.

she grins like she’s so incredibly proud and dean’s heart swells with it for a moment. she asks him to tell her about the experience, which he does, watching her taking a note here or there, or asking a clarifying question. when he finishes, they only have a little time left, but she asks him to lay down on the couch and close his eyes to relax. he feels her presence by his side. she tells him to keep his eyes closed as she explains what’s going to happen next. 

“dean, with your consent, i would love to begin exposure therapy with you. all you’ll have to do today is hold the jar above you and observe the wasp.’

dean nods, his heart beat already quickening. he opens his eyes on her say so and she places the jar gently in his hands. he grounds himself, and then brings the jar above him. the underside of the jar is much more clear than the patterned sides. he can see the wasps body, dull with decay, but a wasp nonetheless. lisa asks him to describe it to her. he does. 

when he walks out of her office that day, he feels a bit lighter. he leaves the wasp with her because it’s nearly rotted and she’ll dispose of it properly. when he walks the path back to his car, a bee buzzes by, he flinches, but that’s all. no tears, no running, just a flinch. he grins. 

saturday comes and dean decides to go to the farmers market. he hasn't been in a long time, maybe not since he was a kid, but he figures he’ll show off his improvement to himself a little bit. when he gets there, the sun is hot and bright, baking down on the colourful tents out before him. his goal is to walk the whole thing, stopping to smell the roses along the way. it goes pretty well until he goes to pick out a peach for lunch and he spots a bee on it, basking in the sweetness of the fruit. he pulls his hand back fast and keeps his eye on it, his mind going blank with fear and silencing the sounds of everyone around him. suddenly there’s a buzz behind him and he’s running. it’s irrational, he knows it’s irrational, and yet he’s doing it, running back to baby. he makes it almost all the way until his adrenaline wears off a bit. he slows to a walk, but he’s on high alert. suddenly he can see everything. he can see the paper wasps floating above the grass, he can see the bee settling into a bunch of sunflowers, he nearly throws up when he sees one trailing behind a woman's leg, so close it’s nearly touching. he covers his ears, hoping that the loss of one sense will help deescalate the situation. it helps a bit, and when he’s finally at baby’s side and quickly getting in, he takes a breath. he lets himself cry then. head against he steering wheel. he was doing so well but suddenly he feels like he’s back at step one. he failed. his tears don’t let up until his energy is drained from the day. from the heat of the sun, from the rush of adrenaline, from the emotions pouring out of him. 

until the next thursday, dean stays in during the day. he doesn’t want to fail again. 

he tells lisa as much at their next session. she looks at him with sympathetic eyes. he hates it.

lisa says he is getting better, it just doesn't feel like it because its a process. she smiles. he frowns, trying to grasp that concept. it doesn't feel right to him. the validation, the praise, it feels unwarranted. he closes up a little bit and thats when lisa says it. 

“i can prove it to you.” 

he quirks an eyebrow at her, dejected face softening into interest. 

when the day is over, they have a plan. next week they’ll be meeting at heaven’s hives (dean thinks it sounds more like hell). 

-

it’s thursday and dean is driving, white knuckles showing from his grip on his steering wheel. he’s grateful the apiary is just fifteen minutes out of town, it means the anticipation can’t build up (not that it hasn’t been for an entire fucking week). when he turns onto the dusty road with an arch above it baring the apiary’s name and a few carved bees on the poles, he lets himself take in the sounds of the road below him. it’s like white noise, temporarily drowning out his fears. 

when he reaches the end of the road, it’s at a small white house surrounded by flowers. he can see some structures out by the side of the home, but he looks resolutely ahead and stalks to the front door. just getting there has his heart racing, there are bees buzzing all around him and he feels himself wanting to crawl out of his skin as he knocks on the door. suddenly, it’s quiet. his thoughts pause as he stares at the man who opened the door in front of him. he’s tall, just a few inches shorter than dean, and broad. his hair is raven black and effortlessly tousled. he has this big gummy smile and his eyes are crinkling up at the sides. his eyes. his eyes are so blue, they look like they could belong in space, planets hanging alone, away from time. he clears his throat finally to say hello. the man, castiel, opens the door further and invites dean in. 

lisa is already sitting at the table, drizzling honey into the tea she has in front of her. the first thing dean notices is that the window behind her is open, a soft breeze causing the delicate white cloth to blow into the house. he tries not the let it affect him, but when he takes a seat, he makes sure his back is towards a wall and his eyes can watch the window. 

castiel sits next to him and brings him a cup of tea too. he doesn’t drink tea much, but it would feel rude to reject an offer from their host. 

castiel reaches across the table to pull the pot of honey from in front of lisa. dean watches her observe the motion, but he’s pulled from her when he hears a low voice beside him. 

“dean. lisa has informed me of your situation.” he smiles and keeps dean’s rapt attention. dean is holding his eyes, not looking away. cas breaks it first, and says, “look” with a nod to his hands. dean’s mind would go elsewhere if he weren’t so fucking amped up with anxiety, but he looks. castiel’s left hand is holding the tiny honey pot and his right is stirring the golden sweetness. dean’s mesmerized as castiel’s voice narrates next to him. 

“this is honey. it is the product of bee’s hard work. it’s a beautiful thing, dean. pure honey can quite literally last forever. a bee works her entire life to produce this product that will outlast her tenfold, and that’s an understatement.” castiel huffs a small laugh and dean quirks a small smile, still watching the hand stir the honey. “your fear-- dean, look at me,” dean lifts his eyes, “your fear is valid. it is one of the most common phobias across the globe. however, your fear is unfounded. i would sacrifice myself to be stung a thousand times over if it meant we could keep honey. if we could keep the trees and plants that bees  pollenate and tend to. even if we could live in a world without bees, i wouldn’t want to, because they are small, and determined, and fuzzy and they are god’s most pure creation.” his eyes sparkle as he’s talking, dean is fighting to hang onto every word instead of drifting into the fantasy that is the man before him. “bees have a stinger to protect their colony. they will die to protect their own. i have a very strong sense that you are much like a bee, dean. i have faith in your abilities to overcome this.” 

dean doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s crying. tears are falling from his eyes silently, blurring the images of cas and then lisa as he turns his face from them. 

not once in all of their sessions did he cry in front of lisa, but now he’s overcome with a tidal wave of emotions and it’s all because castiel (bees)waxed poetic and compared him to his greatest fear. god the analogy hits so close to home it hurts. he finally turns back to the table where castiel and lisa are sitting patiently, waiting. 

“i have faith too.” 

[etherealwaifgoddess]

What He Wants (Pt. 15)

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Summary:  On going series of Bucky getting his shit together and falling in love with you.

Warnings/ Content: none, angst if you squint

Word Count: 1194

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Who else got Endgame today now that it’s out on bluray/dvd?! I have it ready to start once this post is up and I’m so excited to see it again!!  But enough of that... This installment is a game changer. And the very end had me squeeing while writing it. I hope you all squee along too! Also, thanks for all the love this story has been getting so far. I’m eternally grateful for all the likes, reblogs, and comments. Seriously, I love ya’ll <3 

If you missed the first few parts, you can read them here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

XOXO -Ash

What He Wants, Pt. 15

By noon you have run out of chores to keep yourself busy and you finally join Bucky who is reading a new book in the living room. You had just called the therapy center you work at and let them know you would be available to start the following week. You want to give Bucky a chance to settle into your world before you dive back into work. 

“So… I go back to work next week.” You tell him as you take a seat on the other end of the sofa. 

Bucky looks up from his book, a look of surprise on his face. “Okay, mouse. I’ll be fine here when you’re out.” 

“Actually, I was thinking you could come with me.”

“To the therapy center? I still don’t know about that. You forget that millions of people still want me locked up for life or worse. I don’t want to go in there and make it harder for people who are already having a rough go of it.”

“Who says anyone will even recognize you?” 

Bucky waves his metal arm at you and points to the red star on the upper part of it. “Even if they didn’t recognize my face the arm is kinda obvious. There’s a reason most of my wardrobe is long sleeves.” 

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But I want you to think about the dozens of returning war vets we see every week. The guys who could really use someone to talk to who knows what it’s like to be in the military and in combat. We get the occasional ex-cult members too. Girls who have been brainwashed for years and just want to get their lives back. I’m not asking you to go in and start telling these people your life story, I’m just asking you to go be available to listen to them if they want to talk. Not as a therapist but as someone who gets what they’re going through.” 

“How would that even work though? And don’t you want someone who has their shit together a little bit better to be interacting with these people?”

“You do have your shit together or you wouldn’t be sitting here with me. Stop downplaying your progress because you’re not where you want to be. And it works with the staff we have so far. We have two domestic abuse survivors, one former Air Force private, and a girl who grew up in the system. It’s just an option for our patients to hang out a little and talk to someone who understands them. The people who do, end up having much more successful therapy sessions later on.”

“I just don’t know…” 

“Well, you have ‘til 7:30 on Monday to decide but I think it’ll be good for you. And the center.”

“Good for me? Sorry mouse, I’m not gonna just start going to therapy because I’m there all day.”

“I’m not asking you to. I meant that it’ll give you something to do. Something productive and rewarding. It’s part of how I cope with the more difficult missions. I help people and it makes me feel like less of a monster for doing what needs done sometimes.” 

 Bucky looks like he’s on the verge of screaming or crying, intensely frustrated but trying to keep himself under control. “There is no atoning for everything I’ve done though. How can you not see that?”

“Because you don’t know that. You can only do your best and try. So what do you want to do?” You are pushing harder on this than you meant to but you’re on a roll, “You can hide out here reading books, keeping away from the world, waiting for me to come home every night. Or you can actually live, and come along with me, and make a real, positive difference in people's lives. What do you want Bucky?” 

Bucky makes an exasperated noise in his throat. “I want a lot of things, none of which I can have.” 

“Like what?”

“Too many things.” 

You move across the sofa so you’re kneeling next to him, hovering just the slightest bit over him, making sure he understands you’re not backing down on this. “That’s not an answer.” 

His eyes are blazing when he lifts his head to stare you down. You want to run, to apologize for pushing too hard too soon, but something keeps you in place just a beat longer. “What are you so afraid of wanting, Bucky?” You place your hand on the bicep of his metal arm, trying to keep him from bolting. 

But he can’t run. Your touch, and the genuine concern in your voice are his undoing. A tortured sound breaks free from his chest and the super soldier seems to collapse in on himself. He pulls at his hair, scrubs his hands over his face futilely, unable to handle all the emotions bubbling up. “I want what Steve got.” He whispers. 

His words echo painfully in your chest, I want what Steve got. You school your reaction and  let him process the emotions coming up in his own time.

This is the first time Bucky really lets himself admit it, that he wants something for himself. The tears come and he wishes he could hold them back but in the moment he can’t. The loss of his freedom back in the war, losing his arm, the wipes and time on ice, the brainwashing, the torture, the constant gnawing feeling of being hated for what feels like good reasons. It all comes crashing down until he can’t breathe anymore. The loss of Steve is still so fresh and it makes it harder to keep his emotions in their tidy, neglected box. 

Your heart breaks when his tears start falling. You just wanted to get him to make a decision for his life instead of staying stagnant from fear and self loathing. You know there is nothing you can do but be there for him while he shatters so you throw your arms around him and wait. After several painfully quiet minutes Bucky’s sobs subside and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him. You can feel the wetness through your night shirt, his tears not yet stopped, so you started running a hand through his hair soothingly. Eventually he looks up at you with questioning eyes, searching you for any trace of disgust or pity and still he finds none. You brush a long lock of brown hair out of his eyes and give him a half smile, glad he is calming down a little more. 

Bucky holds you tightly, still not willing to let you go. “I know what I want, mouse.” His voice is low and raw.

“What is it?” You ask quietly.

“I want… God knows I don’t deserve it but… I want you.” 

Your heart is hammering in your chest like it had grown wings. It’s hard to form words as your mind swims with reasons to pull back and even more reasons to give in. “I’m yours.” You tell him before your brain can catch up with your heart.

Tag List Lovelies: @my-current-fandom-is @blacklightguidesnic @amazonianbeauty @ladyemofhousestark @abswritesfandoms @rupestria 

[the-marvel-wars]

I need to talk about GoT 8x02

My thoughts on Game of Thrones 8x02 (grab a glass of wine because it’s a fucking ride and a half)

This will be moved over to my new blog for nerd reviews, Sounds Like Nerds.

WARNING: THIS WILL BE VERY SPOILER-Y AND FULL OF SWEARING!

PLEASE, IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THIS EPISODE, DO NOT READ THE SPOILERS!

IT’S SO HARD TO STAY AWAY WHEN YOU’RE CURIOUS AS HELL, BUT PLEASE DON’T LOOK AT THESE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE EPISODE!

SPOILERS WILL BE BELOW THE CUT, SO IF YOU DON’T TURN AWAY NOW, I CAN’T BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE SPOILERS YOU WILL SEE.

THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE.

ALRIGHT!

Let me be very clear that this episode brought about a slight meltdown for me. The little moments these characters had with one another broke me in half, and next week, I’ll be dead entirely. Resurrect me only to watch these episodes because life will mean nothing after “Avengers: Endgame” and GoT 8x03. I’m tired, dazed, very confused, and on the verge of a complete breakdown. While I still have some energy, here we fucking go.

That opening STILL gives me goosebumps after all these years, not gonna lie.

I lost my whole uterus when Daenerys stared down Jaime and was like, “yo, I always thought of how I would kill you. Here you are” (rough translation). I was like, “BiTcH nOoOoOoO”

ALSO, DAENERYS, HOW DARE YOU QUESTION TYRION! I FELT LIKE I WAS HALLUCINATING! Someone get me some water!

Sansa, a fucking goddess, the QUEEN IN THE NORTH, A RED WOLF. I DON’T GIVE A HOLY SHIT. I LOVE HER. I WANT HER IN MY LIFE FOREVER. TOUCH HER, AND I WILL BURN THE WHOLE WORLD TO THE GROUND!

“The things we do for love” -Jaime, 1x01

“The things we do for love” -Bran, 8x02

Me, during that scene:

Brienne standing up for Jaime the way she did is not helping my desperate need for them to get together. I’m trying to put OUT this fire, not add fuel to it, ffs.

When Sansa began speaking to Brienne after that, I was terrified that Sansa would be like “you vouch for him? You would fight beside him? Then you will suffer the same fate as him.” I was like, are they gonna get fed to the dragons? TaKe Me InStEaD!

Sansa giving Jaime a pass because of her respect for Brienne cleared my skin up, and I will breathe easier until I see Endgame on Thursday night. help.

LISTEN! Here’s my issue! Daenerys’ look at Sansa infuriated me when Sansa gave Jaime a pardon of sorts. Then, she’s like, “UH, JON! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THIS?!?!?!?!” like she’s just magically gonna get what she wants because they’re having………….the sex. Jon’s not gonna turn on his sister/cousin. I’m sorry, but don’t.

Bran just keeps staring at people. Just get that kid a blindfold, he’ll be less of a creep.

Me at Bran the ENTIRE episode:

Let me say this, I knew from the moment Arya did that little eyebrow lift at Gendry in the beginning of the episode, that they were gonna sex by the end of it. I’ve shipped it since they first met, and I will ship it until I die.

“It’s gonna be safer down in the crypt” -Gendry, totally oblivious to the little assassin Arya’s become.

“I know death. He’s got many faces. I look forward to seeing this one.” -Arya, giving me goosebumps while throwing dragonglass at a post. What a little fucking queen. Oh, God, take me away.

I lowkey want Arya to stare right into the face of the Night King, right into the face of death, and I just want her to say “not today” as a callback to season 1 and her training with Syrio Forel. Ugh. SHIT.

“Bran looks like a coconut” -my friend, 2k19

“At least Cersei won’t get to murder me” -Tyrion, giving me goosebumps because Bronn’s got that fucking crossbow of poetic justice, and I WILL NOT HAVE IT! TOUCH TYRION, AND I WILL RIOT!

Podrick has also gotten so much better with the sword, and I AM JUST SO PROUD!

“I’m not the fighter I used to be, but I’d be honored to serve under your command if you’ll have me” -Jaime, giving Brienne the credit she has always deserved, but that’s not even the best part. What happens later is what truly had me weeping.

I just want Jorah and Daenerys to kiss one time in a ship-fulfilling way. I just want him to be happy. I NEED him to be happy. Jorah fighting on behalf of Tyrion made me love him all the more, and if he dies, I WILL RIOT AGAIN!

The Sansa/Daenerys interaction had me quaking. I was literally sitting on the couch, head in my hands, shaking. I was both angry and relieved. While I’m upset they’re being pitted against one another, I’m relieved that they’re staying true to their characters. Sansa is true to her home and her people, Daenerys just wants to take what is rightfully hers (I mean, as we all know, it’s not TECHNICALLY hers *cough* Jon Snow). They’re both such headstrong women, and I hope they come together at some point. The women of this show would bring the entire population of Westeros to their knees.

Theon and Sansa reuniting had me in tears yet again. This episode was so fucking emotional for me, but I know that next week will break me even more.

“I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa, if you’ll have me” -Theon Greyjoy, reformed.

Those two have been through so much together (too much, really), and so much on their own. The fact that they are together again makes me so emotional. JUST KILL ME!

That little girl that Davos served made me cry AGAIN! He was reminded of Shireen. He wants to protect the little girl he couldn’t save.

Tormund TACKLING Jon like a quarterback was hilarious as shit in such a touching scene.

“The big woman still here?” -Tormund Giantsbane, the man who just wants some fuq

Seeing my favorite characters gathered around the command table made me shake with pure fucking fangirl excitement. It’s what I’ve wanted from the beginning.

“I took this castle from you. Let me defend you, now” -THEON GREYJOY oh my god, just bury me at this point with my collection of Marvel comics, my Star Wars pajamas, and my replica dragon eggs. Just put me to rest because I can’t. I cannot. I have been unable to can. No.

“We’re all going to die” -Tormund, putting it all out there like it’s no big deal. It’s a VERY BIG DEAL

Missandei and Greyworm having their little moment just drove home my fear that one of them is going to die before the end of the season, perhaps by the end of the next episode. WHEN YOU MAKE PROMISES IN THIS SHOW, YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO KEEP THEM! YOU FUCKING FICTIONAL CHARACTERS SHOULD KNOW THIS!

Ghost just chilling in the background of that scene with Sam, Jon, and Edd is a whole 2019 mood. He gets no attention, barely any screen time, and others may not even notice him. But not us. Not us.

I’M BEING SO SUPER SERIOUS RIGHT NOW, IF SAMWELL TARLEY DIES, I WILL FUCK EVERYONE UP IN THE WORST POSSIBLE WAY! I SWEAR TO THE WHOLE UNIVERSE! SAM IS THE LAST GOOD, PURE, INNOCENT CHARACTER IN THIS GOD FORSAKEN WORLD, AND IF HE GOES DOWN, I’M GOING DOWN, TOO! I WILL HAVE A COMPLETE AND UTTER MELTDOWN, AND MY THERAPIST WILL BE GETTING A CALL AT 10:30 AT NIGHT! IF HE DIES, YOU’LL CATCH MY WHOLE ASS PICKETING IN A WALMART PARKING LOT, WEEPING.

*ahem*

sorry.

The scene with everyone around the fire was such an incredibly beautiful scene.

Also, Tyrion pouring Podrick a full cup when Brienne clearly said “HALF” is a wholeass mood.

I’m scared that the characters by the fire are the ones who are going to bite it in the next episode, and I’m not ready. I’m just gonna blackout.

TORMUND TELLING THE STORY OF HOW HE GOT THE NAME “GIANTSBANE” MADE ME CACKLE. A BEAM OF PURE LIGHT IN THIS SAD, TERRIBLE UNIVERSE! I’m still laughing.

Arya and Sandor drinking together. Leave me alone, I’m weak. I can’t talk about this right now. I’m too emotional about it still. One of these little shits is gonna die in the next episode, and I just cannot.

“I fought for you, didn’t I?” -Sandor Clegane, coming in at the last moment to rip the soul from my body. Thanks.

HeLp!

“I’m not spending my final hours with you two miserable old shits” -Arya, about to go get her freak on with Gendry ;)

When Arya started talking about Gendry’s experience with women, my friend and I both looked at each other, knowing exactly what the shit was gonna happen. It was gonna be weird, but it was gonna happen no matter what.

When Gendry finally admitted that he had been with three women, I was like, “Arya’s gonna say some smooth shit, like “want to add a fourth?”” but I was gonna be happy no matter what because these two are cute as shit together.

Me, when they were doing...the...sex:

Also me:

“Women can’t be knights” -Brienne, laying down some realness

AND THEN JAIME KNIGHTED HER, AND I CRIED LIKE A LITTLE BITCH! I TURNED INTO A PUDDLE ON THE FUCKING GROUND BECAUSE I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS MOMENT FOR SO LONG! BRIENNE DESERVED THAT TITLE MORE THAN ANYONE I’VE EVER KNOWN, AND THIS WAS SO INSPIRING TO WATCH!

I cried, babies cried, my dogs probably fucking cried.

“ARISE BRIENNE OF TARTH, A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS”

oh my HOLY ASS!

I’m crying for my giant baby right now.

LYANNA MORMONT BEING A BABY QUEEN!

“I pledged to fight for the North, and I will fight!” -Lyanna Mormont, a little beast.

I PLEDGED TO FIGHT FOR THESE CHARACTERS, AND I WILL FIGHT FOR HER!

Sam gifting Jorah his family’s sword just drove home my suspicion that they won’t see each other again because ONE OF THEM IS GONNA DIE! SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL BURN IT DOWN! I’M GONNA FUCKSTART MY TV NEXT WEEK, AND I’M GONNA THROW UP!

Jenny’s Song.

Jenny’s Song.

Jenny’s Song.

shit.

Jon telling Daenerys about his lineage had my heart POUNDING in my chest. I DO NOT want this to be a rivalry. I don’t want it. I do not...want it. Not at all. I want it a negative amount. None want. Will not support.

I’m not ready for next week.

I’m not ready for any of this.

I will never be ready!

MY LITTLE, GROWN UP BABIES ARE GOING TO DIE! I’VE WATCHED THIS SHOW FOR LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT NOT EVERYONE IS MAKING IT OUT OF THIS SHIT ALIVE! I’M GONNA GO DOWN WITH WHOEVER DIES NEXT WEEK. I WILL BE BURIED WITH THEM, SO HELP ME ASS! I’M GONNA PUKE!

Honestly, this episode made me so fucking emotional. I think it sunk in that these characters I’ve been following for so many years through the books and show, are likely to meet their end so soon. I’m just having a hard time grasping this concept, and it started to sink in tonight. I’ve read these books since I was a young teen, and I started watching the show when it was coming out (against my father’s wishes). I’ve followed these stories for such a long time, and a lot is going to happen this week for me, between Endgame and this upcoming episode. I’m experiencing too many emotions, and my body may just decide to shut down altogether. Who knows?

[wilsonsnest]

winter, Sweetheart - VII

A moment we’ve all been waiting for. Riley meets Sam. Steve meets Bucky. Tony is reasonably upset about hiding a supersoldier assassin in his basement.

warnings: hurt/comfort, trauma, bad medical practices

“Just so we’re clear.” Tony says with his arms folded over his chest, looking quite skeptically at the sight in front of him. He doesn’t look at Riley, even as he addresses him. “We have one half toe co-dependent ex-assassins staying in our basement and that was totally cool with everyone? Interesting that none of them are here to deal with this if he decides to return to his day-job.”

Riley glances at him, his mind still trying to wrap his head around what was happening enough that he wasn’t as offended as he should be. To be honest, Tony was probably the last person to be qualified to deal with this problem. Natasha, Steve, hell, probably even Clint knew more about Hydra’s whole deal than Tony Stark. But they were all pretty indisposed at the moment. Steve ran off to try and track Bucky, Natasha was still dealing with the fallout of Project Insight’s destruction.

Riley let out a long sigh before looking back at the make-shift room where Sam was currently staying. The storage room had been cleared of weapons, and converted into a holding room for their incoming guest. There was a bed,  a light-switch that could be activated from inside or outside the room and sterile white walls. Other than the transparent blue field that let them see Sam, but Sam couldn’t see them. It probably wasn’t the most ethical thing in the world, but they were kind of rushed for time. Natasha had said the situation was pretty dire.

And it had been. Riley had been on the Quinjet when they arrived in Romania. Sam had passed out, and he looked practically on the verge of death. Trying to move him had resulted in him whimpering and curling into himself until they gave him a sedative and quickly loaded him up. Riley hadn’t been more than a foot away from Sam at any time until they got to Avenger’s Tower.

He had taken some time to collect himself, paced on his floor (Tony had insisted that he needed a floor), debated calling Mama Wilson, realized that was actually he worst thing to do before Tony finally called him down to where Sam was.

Now the both of them are just observing, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It all seemed way too easy. Sam was lying on the bed, stiff as a board and staring up at the ceiling. If he sensed them, he didn’t acknowledge it, and if he was upset or confused he didn’t show it. To be honest, his behavior was frightening. Compliant in a way that seemed inhuman. At least the times they had fought, Sam had been determined to kill him.

Riley hears Tony suck in air throw his teeth. He’s flustered, but Riley can tell he’s also concerned. While Stark hadn’t been involved in the Exo-7 Falcon project, Rhodes knew about it. And when Rhodes was concerned about something, Tony got concerned about something. It was sort of sweet.

“Nat said the Winter Soldier,” Riley can’t quite bring himself to call him Bucky or James or whatever. “left him on purpose.”

“Yes, and the purpose could be homicide, but what do I know.” Tony mutters irritably. He reaches up to scratch is beard. “Just looking out for the health and safety of the two of who actually stayed behind and oh, the entire population of New York if he gets loose.”

Riley knows that Tony is just overreacting because he doesn’t know what else to do, but its starting to grate at his nerves. “I don’t think he’s really in much of a state to be a threat.”

Oh yeah, he’s totally adorable and harmless.” Tony rolls his eyes. But then something softens in his gaze and his shoulders slump a little as they watch Sam. “Anyway. If I’m going to take a look at his damage, one of us has gotta get him talk. Wing-packs? Easy. This,” He whistles low. “I may have to brush up my cyber-bionic neurology.”

“Yeah, right.” Riley says, only half listening. “Can I talk to him?”

“I mean you can try.” Tony gestures toward the blue transparent field. He says Sam should just see another blank wall where they are, but theres really no way to tell just what enhancements he has. “Just walk on through, Birdman. You’re all bio-coded up.”

It’s a testament to how focused Riley is that he doesn’t even throw tony a look over the nickname. Maria Hill suggested the codename as a joke and now its made the rounds. He’ll worry about changing it before it gets to the press after he figures out how to get his best friend back.

He takes a deep breath, shifts nervously from one foot to the other before walking forward. He’s trying not to shake, trying to access the calm, laser-tight focus he had during missions. It’s not really working. He’s seen some shit in his time, but nothing like this. He almost freezes as a brief flash of memory appears in his mind. Sam, digging his claws into Riley’s chest, his face blank and void of recognition.

He forces himself through the barrier and into the room before he can panic. Tries to remember the breathing exercises that his therapist showed him, takes a look at Sam’s face and immediately forgets. His heart is pounding against his chest, and it hurts to even look at him like this. He looks so similar to the day he fell, painfully young, though the bags under his eyes tell a different story.

He steps closer, purposely making his footsteps loud as to not alarm Sam. He readies himself for an attack, but it doesn’t come. In fact, Sam doesn’t even seem to register is presence at first. He waits for a moment, unsure and to his relief Sam makes the first move. The other man turns his head, looking back to be able to see Riley peripherally. His face is fixed impassively, but Riley can see the slightest twitching his eyes as he analyzes him. He feels like a bug under a magnifying glass, and despite Sam’s sickness, he’s the one who feels powerless.

“Hey, Sam.” Riley starts off soft and gentle. He doesn’t like the dynamic of standing above Sam, and he slowly takes a knee. He’s sure Tony is probably freaking out, but putting Sam at ease is the most important thing right now. “You….” His mouth feels dry. “You don’t know me, do you?”

Sam’s face doesn’t move, and for a brief second their eyes lock until Sam’s gaze drifts away. Riley swallows, and he feels heat prickling the back of his neck. He isn’t sure what he wants to hear. If Sam does know him, it means he’s tried to kill him twice on purpose. He doesn’t know which possibility is worse.

When Sam says nothing, Riley finds himself overcome with emotion. Keeping it together is impossible, and his body shakes as tears begin to well up in his eyes.

“Samuel Wilson,” The last time Riley’s said his name like that was the day they met. He isn’t crying, but its a sure thing soon. “Y’know, when I first heard your name I knew you’d be the most stuck-up, stickler for rules in the world. Then you introduced yourself, had this dumb smile and said ‘call me Sam’. You were so fucking nice, I was pretty sure you were doomed.”

It’s so fatalistic now, that Riley sort of hates his past self for even jokingly thinking it. He pauses, searching Sam’s face for any sign of recognition. He nearly chokes on his own gasp when Sam slowly sits up, turning to face Riley on the bed. His face hasn’t changed, but now he’s watching Riley with rapt attention.

“Turns out you were the best of us. You got into the program because you wanted to save people. The rest of us dummies just wanted to do something crazy.” He’s saying too much, but he’s hoping that anything will spark some recognition. He doesn’t care if he has to sit here and tell training stories for days if it means Sam remembers something. “The other six dropped out, but I knew I wanted to stay with your noble ass. Knew we’d do something great together, or at the very least I’d stop you from doing something stupid.” Tears are falling now, and he doesn’t care. “I did save your ass a few times, and you saved me. I just couldn’t… “

He takes a deep breath, he feels shattered and stripped bare. He wants to scream, he wants to run but Sam’s looking at him and it has to mean something. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

Sam tilts his head, very slowly, as if he is considering Riley for the first time. Theres a new light in his eyes, and he squints at him. His hands move from where they were at his side, and move to his lap, twitching like he wants to twist them together. Everything movement he makes is so careful, and calculating.

Like he’s a machine.

No. It’s not that at all.

Like he’s afraid.

“Riley.” Sam says the word like it’s foreign, like his lips and tongue have never made those sounds before. Sadness turns to anger and it burns sourly in Riley’s stomach. “I used to have wings like yours. They,” He moves his hands apart. “Come off.”

“Yeah, Sammy, they could.” Riley whispers, his voice cracking slightly. He hasn’t quite seen the extent of the damage done to Sam’s back, but he knows it’s not pretty. “They weren’t anything like,” It takes him a second, the anger making him bite out. “Whatever those Hydra bastards did to you.”

Sam suddenly sits up straight, his hands curl into fists on his thighs. “The Falcon.” It’s almost a whisper, like he’s suddenly remembered something.

Riley’s brows knit together. “You remember the Exo-7 Falcon program..”

Sam cuts him off. “No, that’s what they did.” His eyes are very far away. But then he looks at Riley, his brown eyes no longer vacant, he looks haunted. “I am The Falcon. I need to be with The Soldier. I need to-“

He stops suddenly with a moan and brings a hand to his head. Riley scrambles over to him on his knees, no longer caring about the potential backlash of his sudden movements. He reaches out and puts a steadying hand on Sam’s knee, trying to soothe, trying to understand.

“I’m The Falcon.” Sam whispers, he grinds the heel of his palm into his forehead and leans forward. “No, I’m Sam.” Beads of sweat begin to appear on his forehead and he shakes his head. “I’m Sweethe-“

He slumps forward, and Riley catches him before he can slide off the bed. He pulls Sam into his lap, tremblings hand feeling his forehead. His eyes are tightly closed, and he starts to shake in Riley’s arms.

“Tony!” Riley calls out, and he finds he’s too upset to try and get them both up. He hears the soft hiss of the forcefield deactivating and hears Tony coming for them. He just holds onto Sam, and cries. He’s so much lighter in Riley’s arms than he should be.

xxx

“You caught up to me.” Bucky whispers it out to the water, doesn’t urn around to look at Steve. He’s known since he left Bucharest that the other man has been following him, and he’s known since the beginning of this week they’d end of meeting soon. Steve was giving him time to get his head together before approaching. Sweet sentiment, but misplaced if he thought it would take a few months to get this all back together. He’s only just convinced himself that calling himself Bucky actually feels okay.

He’s led them to a small abandoned dock near a fishing village in Spain. The sun is setting over the water, and it’s almost peaceful. He likes it here the best of all the places he’s been so far. Theres a small community Bucky has integrated himself into. The people here don’t ask questions. He speaks their language and buys plenty from the locals. One grandmother has been letting him stay in her barn in exchange for letting the cow and goats out in the morning.

That’s all over with now.

He takes a deep breath as he hears Steve get closer, stopping a few feet away. He wonders if it’s because Steve is nervous, or if he thinks Bucky is nervous. It could be some of both, really.

“I knew where you were the whole time, Buck.” Steve confesses quietly as if Bucky didn’t know that. “Just figured I’d give you some space.”

But not too much.

“Following me to make sure I don’t kill anyone?” Bucky tries for lighthearted, but he just sounds tired. He’s sure he used to be better at making jokes.

“Natasha told me you don’t do that anymore.” Steve says, and of course that was all he needed. Bucky supposes she would know best. “I would have waited for you to come to me..” He trails off, uncertain.

Bucky frowns and considers that. Suddenly, a shiver runs down his spine and his breath catches in his throat. He turns to face Steve so quickly he has to catch himself. He carefully schools to his face to hide the growing panic he feels. Right, theres only one reason why Steve would come to him like this. “It’s Swe- Sam. What happened? Is he okay?” His questions are clipped, and he’s trying to hide the fear in his voice.

It’s obviously not working, as Steve raised his hands placatingly. He looks worried, but the heavy weariness of someone who delivers fatalistic news isn’t present. Bucky relaxes. Marginally.

“He’s in bad shape, Buck.” Steve admits, and lowers his hands. “Tony thinks he can help him, if he knows what he’s dealing with. “His face scrunches a little like he’s trying to remember something difficult. “Hydra did some crude work creating, uh, making his brain work with his wings. People wren’t meant to have wings, so they just,” Steve winces as he continues. “Hot-wired his brain essentially.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches and his hands curl into fists at his side. Of course, giving something a prosthetic arm was one thing, but they gave Sam something he was never meant to have. He remembers Sam stumbling in the field like a baby bird, each time because of course his brain didn’t know what to do with itself. He wonders how many people’s brains they took apart before they could get it to stay.

“If we can find the plans, any plans. Any information at all about how they did it. Tony can help Sam.” Steve sounds so sure and determined. It tickles something familiar in the back of Bucky’s brain that he quickly files away. Theres no time for that when Sweetheart needs him.

“I know where they are.” Bucky says as he walks toward Steve. “I’ll get them for you.”

“Wait!” Steve grasps Bucky’s shoulder before he can pass. Steve lets him go before Bucky can grab him and throw him to the ground. Instead the ex-assassin raises his fists, a hard glint in his eye. “Sorry, Bucky, sorry. I just.. I’ll go with you. I don’t want you to go alone.”

Bucky’s lip curls into sneer. “Afraid I’ll revert back?”

“No.” Steve says patiently, his eyes are wide and imploring. So fucking honest. “No, I don’t want you seeing anything that might upset you and have to go through it alone. I want to help you and I want to help Sam.”

Bucky stares at him for a long time. Steve’s blue eyes are earnest and steady. Bucky recognizes that he can’t trust him, not really, but he kind of wants to. At least this gives him a direction, a task. He can figure the rest out later. Besides. “Fine. I know you’ll just show up there anyway.” He rolls his eyes and stalks off. “Let’s go.”

[shakespearerants]

THIS IS A VENT POST PLEASE SKIP IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED BY ANXIETY N STUFF

So as some of u may know I got diagnosed with anxiety just this summer after rushing to the doctors after I got woken up by a panic attack and legit thought I was going to die. this was 2 months before my first semester at uni started. at uni I thought everything was going to get better after some time but it did not instead I got the following:

somewhere between 2 and 6 panic attacks a day

fatigue

constant dizziness, dissociation, tunnel vision

constantly blacking out for 2 to 10 minutes at a time in lectures

heart racing

chest pains

problems sleeping

tremors and cold sweat all over

shaky legs to the point where I couldn't go down stairs anymore

confusion and disorientation that got so bad I legit almost got lost on my way from uni to my dorm room twice. the uni and my dorm are literally one bridge and 500 m apart. if it weren't for 2 big buildings they'd be within eyesight of each other.

inability to focus on written or spoken word

constant nausea and lack of appetite that got to the point where I'd have to force myself to eat even a handful of almonds and a packet of rice cakes a day and I was constantly on the verge of passing out

intestinal cramping getting me out of bed at 7 am at the latest, every day, 6 am if I had an early morning lecture

almost throwing up before morning lectures and spending about 15 minutes each morning hunched over the toilet, dry heaving

trouble speaking bc of words getting lost and hearing everything other people are saying like they were speaking a different language and underwater

hyperventilation

constant fits of uncontrollable crying that lasted about half an hour, multiple times a day

paranoia

nightmares

the therapist I was seeing told me from the get go that she thought I shouldn't be at uni and needed to take the semester off. after a really bad scare where I had to call my parents who live a 5 hour train ride away to come pick me up bc I knew that if I didn't get help TODAY I'd be in the hospital tomorrow I decided to listen to my therapist and went to uni to get a vacation semester approved. the following hurdles had to be jumped: 1. it's late and the due date for all applications is the 5th of December 2. I need a doctor's note 3. it's my first semester and technically you're not allowed to take that off. so I called the place that handles that at uni and asked what forms exactly they needed and if it would be a problem that this was my first semester. they told me what stuff exactly to get and that they'd do their best. so I got that stuff, went back to uni for a week, got told there was a problem with the wording in my doctors note but if I got that fixed the application would go through for sure, got another doctors note, delivered it in person 2 days before due date, had someone check to make sure the wording was 100% what it had to be, and then went home. my mom had to pick me up in Munich bc I barely made it on the train. I spent over half an hour crying on a bench at the train station, shaking so bad I couldn't move to get to the next platform over where my train was leaving.

and guess what??????????? APPLICATION DENIED.

And i. this is getting to much. actually it was too much a month ago and if I can't fix this this might just be the straw that breaks the camels back. like listen I am so sick my therapist said even starting therapy is pointless in my current state bc I am not even at a point where I could do something with it. the plan of action before this bitch fuck of a bad news was trying to relax in a familiar and non threatening environment until the new year in order to even get to the point where I can get into therapy, then 6 weeks at least in a clinic, then regular therapy at least once better twice a week and HOPEFULLY I'd be able to slowly ease back into things next semester. and now??????????????? fuck. I know practically the only option left is to just. not go to uni and not show up to any tests and I feel So. Fucking. Guilty. especially bc I already talked to one of my professors back when I still thought I could just. power through. and now I'm so afraid it'll look like I'm just lazy and didn't want to hold a presentation.

this is . his is terrible

[depressed-sock]

Ok. What about 💔 for m!sidestep who just have break down because f!ortega just found out about his villian side and his tattoo and now he is just shown how broken he is (romance relationship ) from ortega point of view the detailes are up to you .( sorry about my english )

You got it 👍 (don’t worry your English is fine =D)

Fallen Hero ; f!Ortega/m!Sidestep ;2nd POV ortega; angst

spoilers below!!

He was broken, knocked unconscious and you should have left him there. Should of let the authorities take him but… you couldn’t. How could you of known what he was doing? That he was Revelation?

You should have known… you should have seen behind his well-constructed mask. You didn’t though…not until his real mask had cracked open and you found him hiding beneath it bleeding out.

You pace the room, unsure what to do. Bitter anger at him, at yourself, fueling each step. He’s tied to a chair, no armor nothing to protect him, nothing to help him. Nothing to hide the orange tattoos and scars that send chills down your spine. You think you’ve seen them before but you don’t know where.

He groans as his head lifts groggily upward, his eyes widening in fear as he realizes the situation he’s in. He panics struggling against the bonds.

“Don’t bother, ” your voice sounds so cold.

He meets your eyes in shock whispering a single word, “Julia.”

“Why?” A word filled with every ounce of your anger, frustration… betrayal.

He lets out a hysterical laugh, his body shakes and you think he might be on the verge of crying. “Why?” He shakes his head his voice turning just as cold as you had been, “Why…Can’t you tell why?” A snarl forms on his face, “Can’t you see why?”

“What the hell are you talking about!” You try to steady your voice but it comes out closer to a shout. “CB tell me why I had to drag your fucking stupid ass here. Because your out playing fucking Villain? Why are you doing this?”

“You didn’t have t-”

“Yes, I fucking did CB. You…ugh,” you throw your hands up high in frustration. You want to punch him and his idiocy and your idiocy too.

“You don’t recognize the tattoos.” He states realization dawning on him. He lets out another hysterical laugh, “Of course you don't… I’m not fucking real Julia.” He’s refusing to meet your eyes a look of absolute hysteria on his face. “I’m not real…”

You’re not sure how to react, he’s so much worse than you thought. Fear courses through you, you don’t know how to help him. Should you have pushed harder for him to speak with a therapist? “CB…”

He grits his teeth as you call his name, “I’M A FUCKING REGEN JULIA!”

“No, ” it slips out before you can stop it because he can’t be… no, he couldn't…oh God is that why the tattoos are familiar? Your eyes widen and you find yourself stepping back. Away from him, away from the truth.

He notices and more laughter fills the room but this time it’s accompanied by loud sobs. His head is tucked into his chest as if he’s afraid to look at you. To see your dawning realization, your fear, your anger.

“Who do you work for?” Your voice is shaking but you can’t tell if it’s from the unspeakable rage of being used or the fear of what is tied to the chair in front of you.

He quiets down and then softly answers, “No one… I don’t follow anyone orders but my own now.”

“Really, ” you can’t help the sneer of disbelief that crosses your face.

“Yes, ” he pauses then looks at you, his eyes red and puffy from tears. He looks more broken than he ever let on. Regen… they weren’t supposed to be like this…they weren’t supposed to be like him. “If your plan is to hand me back to them… please, ” his voice breaks and he closes his eyes hard, trying to keep more tears at bay, “please kill me.”

“What?” You look at him in horror and he opens his eyes and he begs again.

“Please Julia, please…I… can’t, ” he fights back another sob. Your arms cross defensively and you look towards the ground as your nails bite into your arms.

You don’t know how to handle this, you don’t know what to say. Everything is too much…you just..you need to clear your head…away from him…away from it.

You turn sharply heading for the door, trying your best to ignore his pleading.