#home therapy heel pain

[labsportstherapy]

Home Treatment for Plantar Fasciitis Relief

Stride Confidently Towards Home Relief Plantar fasciitis might try to slow you down, but with the right home strategies, you can confidently step towards relief. Let's explore the world of plantar fasciitis, that pesky pain in your heel that can throw a wrench into your daily stride.

[huggingkoalas]

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | natasha romanoff

pairing — ‧₊˚ avenger!natasha romanoff x fem!retiredavenger!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ natasha loses you three times in the worst way possible

word count — ‧₊˚ 6.6k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ angst, no happy ending, mentions of alcohol consumption, breaking up, cursing, mentions of cheating, pet names, car accident, panic attacks, jealousy, medical rooms, amnesia, mentions of therapy

authors note — ‧₊˚ yes, this was a series. i’ve decided this multi-chapter into a oneshot instead because of how much this fic has emotionally affected me :’) this fic means a lot to me but it’s also a reminder of someone really dear to me that i lost recently. i’ve lost count of how many times i cried while writing the ending, and i’m so sorry if the ending seems rushed </3

Natasha was always full of confidence, loyalty and fierceness. She never backed down from a fight, especially excelling in close hand-to-hand combat where her ability was intimidating. Ruthless and exceptionally efficient and skilled at her job, she struck fear into anyone who had the misfortune to cross the Black Widow’s path.

But that was at work. And at home? There was a big difference. While her enemies were always on their knees at the end of a fight, begging her for mercy to spare their lives, she was on her knees this time. Natasha Romanoff — one of the founding members of the Avengers, an agent of S.H.I.E.LD., a professional assassin and your wife — was currently on her knees, begging for your forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, moya lyubov’ (my love). Forgive me, please.” She begged, tears gathering in her eyes. 

Your shadow loomed over the kneeling redhead. Holding your breath and trying to keep your tears at bay, you pursed your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak in a steady voice.

“Please, I’ll do anything.” With trembling hands on her lap, Natasha glanced up at your face. She couldn’t control a sob breaking out from her throat as she saw the saddened expression on your face. 

“Am I… not important to you anymore?” You spoke in a quiet voice.

“I…-” With eyes filled with tears, she struggled to find the right words to explain herself. Despite her strength and confidence, Natasha looked vulnerable, almost broken, before you. 

“Where were you tonight? Drinking with Bruce and Thor again?” You asked with a shaky breath.

The answer was already clear before Natasha even spoke. There was a faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air, a reminder of her downward spiral in recent months. It pained you to witness the transformation, to see the woman you loved slipping further and further away with each passing day. She had been arriving home late consistently, often in an intoxicated state. Her presence during evenings became a rarity, and you would find yourself sleeping alone in the shared bed at night, longing for the warmth of her presence. You didn’t get to see her in the mornings, too — despite consuming a large amount of alcohol the night prior, Natasha would, without fail, rise early for work the next day before you woke up.

Two months. Two months of Natasha repeating the same apologies. Two months of you backing down every single time and forgiving her when you saw her vulnerable expression. The redhead was truly your weakness, your Achilles heel. Even after she would pour her heart out to you, the same phrases ‘I promise I won’t drink again’ and ‘this is the last time, I swear’, she’d just return to the bar the next day, drinking to her heart’s content. It was as if she’d forgotten her promises to change. As if she had no remorse for her actions, or care for your feelings.

You missed snuggling up beside her after a long day, your head in the crook of her neck as you smelled the familiar vanilla shampoo in her hair. You missed the feeling of her heartbeat against your chest and the softness of her breath against your skin. These days, the smell of alcohol replaced the comforting and soothing scent you were used to. 

While Natasha’s current vulnerability displayed her remorse and pain you’d never seen before, you wanted another kind of vulnerability — one where she was there for you and prioritised you first. You longed for her comfort, her reassurance as she held you close and whispered words of love in your ear. 

With an exhausted sigh, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of even more disappointment at the sight of the two untouched plates of home-cooked beef stroganoff on the dining table. The tantalising aroma of the beef stroganoff now made you nauseous. It bitterly reminded and mocked you of your meticulous efforts to please your wife. The once-warm meal lay cold since you plated them up three hours ago while you waited for Natasha to return home. Accompanying the two plates were two empty wine glasses, a softly lit candle, and an unopened bottle of red wine. And in the refrigerator sat a baking tray of lemon meringue pie from Natasha’s favourite bakery.

Today held a significant meaning — It marked the second wedding anniversary with the love of your life, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Throughout the day, you spent hours pouring your heart and soul into preparing each slice of tenderloins as you made the beef stroganoff. Cooking wasn’t your forte, you had to learn how to cook it from websites.

And to add salt to the injury, she never even bothered to return home early, preferring to drown herself in alcohol at the bar with Bruce and Thor.

You thought that if you cooked her favourite dish and bought her favourite dessert, Natasha would come home instead of getting wasted at the bar, right? You were sorely mistaken. You had even persistently messaged her all day, excitedly telling her about the candlelit dinner you had carefully planned for the evening. However, all of your texts went unanswered.

You almost found amusement and humour in your naïvety.

“Y/N/N?” Natasha barely whispered. Her vulnerability differed from the loving and confident person you fell in love with.

“I need some time apart to figure things out, Natasha.” It had been some time since you uttered her full name, always preferring to call her ‘Natty’ or, your personal favourite, ‘sunshine’. 

A pang of sorrow tugged at your heart, for Natasha had truly been your sunshine once upon a time. In the beginning, she had truly been like a ray of sunlight, her sweet smile had the power to brighten even the gloomiest of days, her laughter your favourite melody. And now, as you stood before her, the Natasha you once knew and loved had become a distant memory. She was a shadow of her former self, almost unrecognisable to you. She was no longer your sunshine, but a raincloud that drenched you in loneliness and despair.

Your fingers instinctively played with the wedding ring adorning your left hand, tracing its edges and rolling it around your finger to alleviate your anxiety as you awaited her next words. You expected her to refuse and deny your words, to tell you that she needed you in her life, but all you got from her was a single word — “okay.”

Her answer made you scoff.

“That’s it? All I get is an ‘okay’?” You seethed, your hands clenched into tight fists as you let anger consume your words. It was as if your weight of frustration, loneliness and insecurities exploded, the pent-up emotions finally erupting into words. “Did you ever take this relationship seriously, Natasha? Was I nothing more to you than a warm body when you had nightmares and decent fuck when you were horny?” 

“I-I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.” Natasha’s voice wavered as she struggled to find the right words.

“I can’t take this anymore.” You declared, the words spilling from your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Fuck you, Natasha, I’m leaving. Forget taking a break — I never want to see your face again. I wish I had never met you.”

The hurt and shock in her eyes were unmistakable, but you did not regret your harsh words. You’d finally had enough. Enough of her unkept promises, her lies. Her actions spoke louder than words. The silence that followed afterwards was deafening. Natasha looked down, avoiding eye contact with you.

You slid your wedding ring off your finger, using more force than usual as you placed it on the coffee table. The sound of it hitting the table echoed loudly throughout the room. Instead of feeling a weight off your shoulders, a gnawing sense of anxiety and disappointment bubbled in your stomach. 

Is this the end of your marriage?

You love, no, loved Natasha, and the weight of the one-sided relationship had become too much for you to bear alone. You wondered if she ever truly cared about you in the first place, or if you were only a distraction from her busy life as an Avenger. You had a nagging feeling that, maybe, she was unsatisfied with being in love with an Avenger-turned-housewife. Maybe she preferred someone like Bruce? You shook your head as the image of Bruce surfaced in your mind. Aware of his crush on your wife, you could not help but wonder if Natasha, had developed feelings for him and hesitated to break your heart with the truth.

Maybe that’s why she’s been spending time with Bruce at the bar.

Was her love ever real then?

And with that, you turned away. You stood before the door, your hand hesitating over the doorknob. You expected Natasha to intervene and stop you from leaving. With a hesitant glance back at her, you observed her entire frame convulsing with sobs, making it even harder to walk away.

You stepped out the door as you couldn’t bear to witness the pain in your favourite green eyes any longer. You knew leaving was the right thing to do, even if it tore you apart inside. As you settled into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the familiar driveway, the haunting image of Natasha’s tear-streaked face lingered in your mind

You had to get far, far away from Natasha. The only other person you could trust is Wanda, your ex-girlfriend and another Avenger. She would be able to comfort you with her soothing presence and words. Tears welled in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks as you navigated the familiar streets to Wanda’s house. The turn of events weighed heavily on your mind, and millions of questions ran through your head.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the traffic light blaring red ahead. A car from the opposite direction ran right towards you, its glaring light blinding your vision with its intensity. With a sharp breath intake, the tyres’ screeching sound filled the air as you braced yourself for impact.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours that Natasha knelt on the wooden floor after you left the house. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that her heart ached. It was as if someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart, and thrown it across the room without any care.

She felt overwhelmed. The air felt thick and made it hard for her to breathe as waves of panic coursed through her. She lay in a fetal position, her knees to her chest and her forehead on the floor. Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, desperately trying to calm the racing beats of her heart. Her body could not stop convulsing as tears streamed down her face, blurring the surroundings around her. 

Every shallow breath she expelled felt painful, and she felt like she was anchored to the cold ground beneath her. It was as if the room was spinning, and the walls were closing in, trapping her in endless suffering. The ache in her chest mirrored the shattering of her heart.

The events that happened after she came home drunk had sobered her up quickly, and all she felt now was a hollow emptiness. Natasha felt like a complete asshole. She had taken advantage of your kindness and patience and trampled all over it. She took you for granted, and now she was alone in the place she called home.

Home. It was merely a house, but the treasured memories the two of you shared with love and affection made it a home.

Once the waves of a panic attack passed, she craned her neck up to glance around her surroundings. The singular candle you prepared for the candlelit dinner was still burning on the dining table, illuminating the dimly lit living room. Even with the blinds drawn over the windows, she could see outside enough to gauge that sunrise was coming soon.

Unexpectedly, the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. shattered the silence as it echoed through the house. “Agent Natasha Romanoff, please come to the Avengers Compound as quickly as possible.” 

Natasha groaned softly in response, slowly getting on her feet cautiously. Her knees and arms ached as she got her balance, a painful reminder of how she spent the night in an uncomfortable position.

Even when she chose to live separately from the Avengers, Tony insisted he installed F.R.I.D.A.Y. into the home for ‘extra’ security. A sense of unease gnawed at her. She rarely got an announcement from the A.I. unless necessary, such as an emergency or a last-minute mission.

“Did something happen?” She called out to the A.I., her voice cracking and hoarse from the crying.

“Y/N Romanoff is in the hospital wing, she has suffered critical injuries from a car accident,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied promptly.

Panic surged through her body as she quickly shed last night’s attire. With each distressed movement, thoughts of how badly hurt you were raced through her mind. 

Shit. What has she done?

Natasha barged through the doors of the infirmary in the Avengers Compound, her eyes surveying the all-too-familiar place. There were countless times when she had to prioritise tending to her wounds in the infirmary after missions instead of debriefing. The place buzzed with the hum of fluorescent lights, and the antiseptic smell in the air nauseated her. She approached the first medical professional in her sightline, a male nurse.

“Bring me to Y/N Romanoff’s room, now.” She ordered, grabbing the nurse’s uniform collar in a tight fist.

The nurse’s hands struggled under her grasp, choking out. “Y-Yes, Agent Romanoff. This way.” 

Letting go of his collar, the male nurse quickly led her down the hallways to your room in fear of angering the assassin further. Her heart raced as she followed behind him, not prepared for how wounded you would look after the car accident. As Natasha entered the room, her fears were confirmed as she saw you. You were lying on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, while hooked up to multiple wires and machines that monitored your every heartbeat and breathing. Your whole body was covered with bandages and bruises, and the sight of your unconscious body supplemented the guilt in her gut.

“Agent Romanoff, we’ve done X-rays, CT scans and an MRI of her body. She has multiple transverse fractures on her clavicle and pelvic bone. She’s suffered a traumatic brain injury from the car accident, and she’s been comatose ever since.”

Before she could question him further, the nurse quickly left the room. She huffed in annoyance. Shrugging off the encounter with the medical professional, she approached your bedside hesitantly, sitting on the chair beside the bed. Taking your cold hand in hers, her index and middle fingers quickly found the pulse point on your wrist. 

Your pulse was weak. 

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes, threatening to spill as she whispered through choked sobs, her voice trembling with emotion “It’s all my fault, I-I’m so sorry. Please, wake up.”

Natasha needed you alive and conscious. Without you, she felt lost, like she was swimming adrift in an endless sea. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. She felt like her world had become even greyer. She traced the contours of your face with her eyes as if trying to memorise every detail that made you uniquely you. All she could do was hope and pray that you would wake up soon to forgive her and give her one last chance to fix everything.

Days turned into weeks into months. It’d been two months since you got into a coma. Two months since she’d heard her favourite voice. Two months of replaying the same scene the day she lost you.

The indifference in your voice. Your disappointed expression. The smell of beef stroganoff. The sound of your wedding ring placed on the coffee table. The sound of the door clicking behind you as you left the house.

Two months felt like two years to Natasha. With each passing moment, the vital signs monitor played the steady rhythm of your heartbeat in the medical room. Natasha refused to leave your side for even a moment. She was scared that you would flatline if she tore her eyes away from your body. She was like a bodyguard around you — keeping her eyes on your body even when her body was begging for sleep.

After Nick Fury heard about your current condition, he immediately gave Natasha time off from missions to allow her to prioritise your well-being. She was thankful for Nick Fury’s understanding.

Everyone in the Avengers recognised the toll it was taking on Natasha’s well-being. Wanda took it upon herself to bring the redhead meals and encourage her to shower and step outside for fresh air. Wanda would remind her that you wouldn’t want her to neglect her own needs. Despite being curious about what had happened that night, the brunette never pressed her for answers. It was obvious that the wounds were still fresh. Natasha always looked miserable whenever Wanda entered the medical room every day. The both of them would take turns taking care of you. Even when Natasha knew about your past romantic relationship with Wanda, she trusted her the most amongst all the other Avengers to take care of you when she had other matters to attend to.

Natasha felt a deep loneliness she couldn’t shake off that only your awakening could dispel. She clung to the glimmer of hope that each passing moment brought you closer to waking up. With every conversation with Dr. Cho telling her that your body was recovering well, her heart swelled with optimism. She would find a twinge of happiness in the gentle rhythm of the rise and fall of your chest.

When alone with you, Natasha would mindlessly talk to you, sharing stories of her day and reminding you that she loved you. Even when you were unconscious, she never failed to greet you every day with an ‘I love you’. She read your favourite books, played your favourite songs and whispered words of love, hoping you could somehow hear her. She’d stopped going to the bar and getting herself intoxicated, she knew that she had to be there for you.

Night after night, when Natasha’s body was too exhausted to stand vigil, she would drift off to sleep with her head resting on the edge of your bed. The position was far from comfortable, but the discomfort mattered little to her. All that mattered was being near you and being the first person you see when you wake up, even if it meant sacrificing her comfort.

And then, one day, as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, you woke up. Natasha was asleep when you aroused from your coma, and she stirred awake by the twitch from your hand intertwined with hers.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, a soft whine leaving your throat as you met her tear-filled gaze. A wave of relief washed over Natasha, but your eyes widened in panic and alarm as you saw the redhead in front of you.

“W-Who the fuck are you?”

Natasha swore she could hear a pin drop from the silence in the room. The green eyes, previously full of hope, reflected a mixture of disappointment and pain. Speechless, Natasha met your stunned gaze as she took her time to process your words.

“W-Where am I?” You mumbled in a hoarse voice. 

Your eyes tried to adjust to the blinding light of the overhead lights as your consciousness slowly reawakened. A frown formed on your face as your eyes scanned every corner of the medical room. One of the surrounding machines beeped steadily, indicating that your vital signs were stable. You scratched your head and tried to remember how you ended up in the hospital, but you can’t.

Natasha picked up the glass of water from the nightstand and offered it to you with trembling hands. You drank the water thirstily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

“It’s me, Natasha, your wife. Don’t you remember?” She began, moving her chair closer to your bed. “You’re at the Avengers Compound. You’ve been in a coma for a while.”

“I... Have a wife?” Aside from the fact that you were in an infirmary, the fact that you were married to someone surprised you more. You studied the features of the redhead sitting in front of you — the sense of familiarity tugged at the edges of your consciousness. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, we got married two years ago,” Natasha explained, her tone as soothing as possible.

“But... my girlfriend, Wanda.” You said, tilting your head to the side. “Where is she?”

Natasha’s hands shot up to cover her mouth as her eyes watered. She rose from the chair and stepped away from her bed. The room felt like it was closing in on her. Her hands became clammy, and each breath was laboured as her heart raced. A relentless drumbeat echoed in Natasha’s ears.

Was this a nightmare? 

The impulse to reach out and grab your hand, a source of comfort that calmed her down, surged within her. Yet, she hesitated.

You appeared as the body of the person Natasha had fallen in love with years ago when you were just eighteen and freshly recruited into the Avengers team. The both of you had a rocky start — she was your enemy first before she became your friend and eventually your lover. However, that chapter was a long time ago as you had retired from the front lines upon marrying her.

As Natasha observed you, a sense of unease settled within her. There wasn’t the same warmth she once found in your eyes. Instead, an unfamiliar emptiness stared back at her. The very gaze that used to ignite with love and affection now held an empty void — The same expression as the day when you broke up with her. Natasha clung to the hope that your memory would somehow seamlessly reweave themselves back into your consciousness, dispelling the thoughts that she was staring at a stranger disguised as her wife.

You wrinkled your nose as you awaited her response. You tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but your muscles weakened from inactivity and failed you. You winced as you felt a sharp pain in your chest.

“Don’t strain yourself.” Natasha’s voice was laced with concern. She gently guided you to remain lying down. “I should get Dr. Cho. Stay here, don’t move.”

Before you could formulate a response, she hurried out of the room. As Natasha disappeared from your view, her heart sank as she realised the extent of your memory loss. She should have expected this — Dr. Cho did briefly inform her about how you might experience a few symptoms of memory loss due to the brain injury.

But damn, did your words hit hard.

As Natasha hurried down the corridor, a nagging sense of guilt held her down. Was your memory loss a form of karma for her past actions? Or perhaps a second chance to rebuild things with you? Even though you had effectively cut ties with her moments before the accident, she wanted to be there for you every step of the way. Was she going to tell you what had happened mere minutes before your car accident? No, not yet. Her focus had to be on providing support during your rehabilitation.

She couldn’t bear to lose you again.

The intensity of her emotions became even more palpable as Natasha approached the nurses’ station. Two familiar figures gradually became apparent in the distance, Dr. Cho and Wanda. Both of them were engaged in an animated conversation, but they stopped when they saw the dread on Natasha’s face.

“Y/N’s awake.” Natasha relayed.

Entering the hospital room as a trio, your eyes ignited with a mix of relief and recognition as you saw Wanda.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I missed you.” You greeted Wanda with a wide grin.

As those words slipped from your lips, Natasha’s heart tightened in response. It was a term you had reserved only for her before the accident. On the other hand, Wanda could only manage a warm smile, waving at you. Wanda was unsure of how to respond to the term you used to call her when the both of you were dating.

“Y/N, it’s great to see you awake.” Dr. Cho chimed in, trying to ease the atmosphere. With a clipboard in hand, she flipped through your medical records. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… confused. What happened to me?” You asked.

Natasha quickly jumped in. “You were in a car accident two months ago.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Car accident? But I don’t remember anything.” 

Wanda, sensing the discomfort in the room, stepped forward. “It’s okay, Y/N. The important thing is that you’re awake now. Natasha and I are here for you.”

In response, you graced Wanda with an endearing smile. Your hand extended, seeking and finding Wanda’s. You seemed to be reassured by her presence and physical touch. Natasha, observing the scene, couldn’t help but feel a subtle pang of jealousy. She pushed it aside, reminding herself that you were only acting this way because of the memory loss.

“We’re all here to help you remember,” Natasha spoke softly. 

As your eyes flickered between the two women, there was a spark of love in your eyes as you glanced at Wanda. However, when your gaze turned toward Natasha, the same reserved void of distance was in your eyes.

“Do you remember anything else before the car accident?” Dr. Cho inquired, her pen poised over the pages as she wrote down your responses.

“No…?” You responded tentatively, a furrow forming on your forehead.

“Alright. Firstly, what’s your current profession?” Dr. Cho probed.

“I’m a retired Avenger.” You uttered, unconsciously tightening your grip on Wanda’s hand.

“Your age?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Do you remember these two?” Dr. Cho redirected your attention, pointing to Natasha and Wanda.

“Wanda’s my girlfriend. I don’t remember who the other person is.” You confessed, looking at Natasha with a raised eyebrow.

Natasha crossed her arms, feeling uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Very well. Your cooperation is appreciated, Y/N.” Dr. Cho acknowledged you with a nod, turning her attention to the two other women. “Agent Romanoff and Agent Maximoff, may I talk to the both of you in my office for a few minutes?”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged an apprehensive glance before nodding in unison, accompanying the doctor out of the room. In Dr. Cho’s office, both women settled into chairs opposite her desk, their postures stiff. Dr. Cho wasted no time, closing the door to her office with a decisive click before taking her seat behind the desk.

“I’ll need to ask Y/N more questions later to confirm the type of amnesia she’s experiencing. Based on the questions earlier, there’s a high chance she’s experiencing systematized amnesia.” Leaning forward, Dr. Cho rested her elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “It’s a type of amnesia that happens when an individual experiences long-term stress or trauma. It can be from experiencing physical, sexual or emotional neglect and abuse. In response, the brain blocks out all memories about that one specific person from their past.”

Dr. Cho’s statement made Natasha’s mind spin. Wanda gripped the armrests tightly, her eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. “Is that why she remembers me, and not Natasha?”

“Exactly.” She paused, turning her attention to Natasha. “Agent Romanoff, have you ever… hit your wife?”

“What? No, of course not.” Natasha replied with an exasperated shake of her head. “But… We did argue before the car accident. I haven’t been spending time with her and I was too busy drinking at the bar to spend time with her on the day of our second anniversary. She broke up with me before she got into the car accident.”

Wanda’s anger flared, her fists clenched by her sides as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “So the reason she got into a car accident is because of you?” She accused. “What the fuck, Natasha.” 

Natasha drew in a deep breath. “I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t know that she’d get into a car accident. I messed up.”

Dr. Cho stepped in. “Emotions run high in situations like these, but our focus should be on helping Y/N recover and helping her navigate through her memory loss. We can’t change the past, but we can make choices to change the future.”

Wanda, her jaw clenched in frustration, couldn’t contain the bitterness in her retort. “Fine, but regret doesn’t undo the damage you’ve done, Natasha. Y/N trusted and loved you, and you let her down. She doesn’t deserve this, and she certainly doesn’t deserve you.” 

Natasha’s lips trembled slightly, struggling to hold back tears.

Wanda, unable to contain her frustration, abruptly pushed her chair back. “I can’t deal with this right now.” 

She stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Dr. Cho winced at the resounding sound before sighing. “Let’s regroup later. Wanda needs some time, and we’ll address these issues when everyone’s ready.”

Wanda burst into your medical room, her brows furrowed in deep frustration and a scowl etched across her face. Startled by her sudden entrance, you jumped slightly in your bed, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw her expression.

“Wands?” You whispered. “What’s wrong?”

As you whispered her name, Wanda’s tense expression softened. She approached your bed with slow steps, her hands reaching out to hold yours.

“It’s... It’s nothing, Y/N.” Wanda replied, her voice tight with emotion. 

Despite Wanda’s attempt to dismiss her agitation, you could sense the remaining anger beneath her facade. You furrowed your brow, concern etching your features. 

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” You insisted gently, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “You stormed in here looking like you were ready to take on an army.”

Wanda’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement, but the weight of her distress remained evident in her features. She hesitated for a moment, exhaling a breath before finally speaking.

“It’s Natasha,” Wanda admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this.”

As much as Wanda wanted to tell you the reason you fell into a coma, she knew that it wasn’t her place to reveal the information without Natasha’s consent. She had to choose her words carefully.

You listened intently, your heart sinking at the mention of Natasha’s name. The complexity of your relationship with her made you feel uncertain and overwhelmed.

How could you be married to someone you couldn’t remember?

“Is Natasha really my wife?” You asked.

You closed your eyes, trying to find any memory that you shared with the woman who was supposedly your wife. But try as you might, your mind remained blank, empty of any intimate or shared memories with the redhead.

Wanda’s expression softened with empathy. “Yes.” She affirmed gently. “Natasha’s your wife.”

“That means you and I… we broke up?” You pressed your lips together, trying not to frown.

“Yeah.” Wanda began, her voice soft but tinged with sadness. "We broke up because I wasn’t ready to become something more. You love Natasha a lot, more than you ever loved me. Even a blind man could see it.”

“Oh.” You sighed, rubbing your thumb over Wanda’s hands. “But… are you sure? Did past me have feelings for you still?”

“Not anymore, Y/N. Your future’s with Natasha now. She loves you a lot and she’s been miserable ever since you got into a coma, so go easy on her, alright?”

Your heart sank at Wanda’s words.

“Alright.” You offered her a bittersweet smile.

A week after waking up, Dr. Cho officially diagnosed you with systematic amnesia. Once you had healed under her careful observation, you were discharged and allowed to return to the home you shared with Natasha. Despite your reluctance to burden her with your care, she was the only one you could depend on. Wanda and the other Avengers had their responsibilities, leaving Natasha as your primary caretaker.

You were still bruising and aching all over, so Natasha assisted you with various miscellaneous tasks, such as managing your medication intake and helping you with showering. Physically, you were improving, but you still couldn’t remember Natasha.

Gradually, you treated her as if she were a stranger. She understood that it wasn’t intentional, but it still tugged at her heartstrings.

The way you flinched whenever she touched you, because she was used to doing it back then when the both of you were together. It pained her deeply. You kept your thoughts and feelings to yourself, not trusting her enough to talk about your feelings. Despite this, outwardly, your interactions with her seemed relatively ‘normal’. The both of you never argued, never fought, and you’d spent time together.

But it still wasn’t the same as it used to be.

Back then, when Natasha would return home from her missions, you’d eagerly rush to her, enveloping her in the tightest hug imaginable and peppering her face with kisses. Now, you greeted her with a tight-lipped smile and a small wave.

In the past, you would cuddle together while watching late-night movies, holding her hand and resting your head on her shoulder. Now, there was a noticeable distance between you, an emotional and physical space that seemed to widen with each passing day.

Natasha tried bringing you to a coffee place — the one she brought you on your first date. You were intrigued, but you still couldn’t remember anything.

Natasha was genuinely happy to see you making progress in your recovery. Yet, beneath that happiness, she was beginning to grow impatient. Your health was improving, but the state of your marriage seemed to deteriorate because you were unable to remember anything about her.

And, one day, Natasha finally reached her breaking point. She had prepared dinner for you, setting the table and waiting patiently on the couch for your return. But you didn’t arrive until three hours later, long after the food had grown cold.

“Where were you?” Natasha’s voice held a sharp edge as she crossed her arms.

You hadn’t mentioned going out, let alone with whom.

“I went out with Wanda for dinner.” You responded casually.

“And you couldn’t text me to let me know?” Natasha’s tone grew more aggressive.

Not only had you essentially stood her up, but you had also gone out with your ex-girlfriend — the same ex-girlfriend you might still harbour feelings for. It was ironic. It felt like the tables had turned. She was the one feeling hurt and frustrated this time.

“My phone was dead. Why are you so angry?” Your voice rose, becoming defensive as you retrieved your phone from your jacket pocket and tossed it onto the dining table.

“Because I made dinner for you.” 

“So what? I can have it for lunch tomorrow.” 

“That’s not the point. I was waiting for you.” Natasha insisted, her tone laced with frustration.

“And I promise I’ll eat it tomorrow. I’m tired, Natasha. I’m going to bed.” You said dismissively, turning away and walking towards the master bedroom.

There was something else changed, too. Natasha took it upon herself to occupy the guest bedroom while you resided in the master bedroom. It felt like there was a mental and physical separation between the both of you.

It continued for months. Natasha almost wanted to give up, contemplating whether to raise the white flag and accept the bitter truth that you would never remember her at all. The constant arguments between you never seemed to resolve. Instead, they ended with either Natasha or you walking away when things got too heated. With time, Natasha felt like the distance between you grew even more larger. You started coming home late, leaving Natasha disappointed as she waited for you to return. Every dinner she prepared for you went unnoticed, adding to her sense of loneliness and frustration. 

Natasha felt as though you had undergone a complete transformation, like someone similar to you but not really, well, you. She was a stranger to you just as you were to her.

You were sitting on a plush chair, engrossed in the pages of a book when she finally accepted defeat. She observed you quietly for a moment, the way you were oblivious to her presence behind her.

“Are we still together?” Natasha asked, her voice breaking the silence.

You looked up to find her standing before you, a mixture of longing and sadness in her gaze. 

You closed the book slowly, placing it on the coffee table.

You chuckled bitterly, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words. “Well, legally, I suppose we are.”

Natasha’s heart sank at your response. She had hoped for affection, but instead, she was met with indifference.

“Do you even want us to be together?” Her voice quivered as she spoke. 

You studied her momentarily, leaning your head back against the headrest as you looked her up and down. Natasha looked miserable, her cheeks caked with dried tears and dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights. 

“I’m sorry, Natasha.” You murmured, sighing. “I just… I don’t think we’re working out.”

Natasha felt her heart drop at your words. She had feared this moment, dreaded the possibility of hearing those words from you. Yet, the reality of it hit her like a sudden blow.

Your voice cracked as you spoke, barely on the verge of tears. “I tried. I really did try to remember you. Remember I came home late because I told you I was spending time with Wanda? I was walking around the places you brought me to, hoping that I’d remember something, anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha asked. Her heart clenched at your words and her tears spill over her cheeks.

“Because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I didn’t want to disappoint you at the end of the day.” You whispered, standing up from the plush chair and walking over to her. You raised your hand to Natasha’s cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your touch. “I want you, but I don’t think I’m in love with you. You deserve better than this, Natasha. You deserve better than me. You’re not in love with me — You were in love with the me before the accident.”

Natasha closed her eyes, leaning into your touch, a silent plea for reassurance. But as you withdrew your hand, the ache of longing remained. 

Just like how your love was out of touch.

“We can’t keep pretending, Natasha.” You said softly, your voice tinged with regret. “Maybe it’s time we accept that things have changed.”

With a heavy sigh, you turned away, unable to bear the pain of seeing her heartbreak. It pained you to hurt her, but you knew that prolonging the inevitable would only cause more suffering for both of you.

This time Natasha knew that she had to stop you from leaving somehow. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, not again. Not for the third time. 

As you headed towards the door, Natasha’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N, please... don’t go.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when the love you’ve heard from Natasha felt fake. Like it never happened.

You paused for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, before offering a final, pained glance back at Natasha. “I’m sorry, Natasha. Goodbye.”

And with that, you stepped out the door, leaving behind a redhead with a shattered heart.

Maybe in an alternate universe, you could remember her and love her eternally.

[imtryingbuck]

To Be Loved

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n realises her self worth. 

Word count: 2,831

Warnings: angst. angst. cheating (I’m sorry). self hatred. Sharon. forms of self harming. Steve and Sharon are scumbags. 

A/N: i was listening to Adele To Be Loved and this idea came to me

Masterlist

Everything was in their correct places, she made sure of it. Seven times. It had to be perfect. Today marked three years of marriage for her and Steve, instead of going out they both agreed to celebrate their anniversary at home with a home cooked meal, fine wine and slow music and to top it off with an intimate moment shared together in their bed.

The plan was perfect.

The house was perfect.

The dress she was wearing was perfect.

The meal smelted delicious as it cooked away in the oven.

The only thing now was for her to wait for her love to come home.

She sat at the dining chair watching as the clock on the over tick on by getting further away from the agreed upon time that he was supposed to arrive. Every time she rang him the call dropped straightaway, her messaged just staying on delivered. Fidgeting ever so often trying to smooth out the crinkles of her dark green dress that he told her to wear for their special occasion.

Two hours, still not home.

Three hours, still not home.

Fou- she finally gave up.

Emptying the plates full of now cold food, she turned off the radio, took her heels off and collapsed on the couch.

It had been a long time since she had cried, and that night she cried until her heart started to squeeze painfully.

She cried until sleep over took her weaken body.

She forgave him the next day when he got in at six o’clock that morning. He showed up with flowers and told her that he was sorry, something about a mission brief that ran way too long.

Though she didn’t necessarily believe him or his lie but she was just happy he was home so she never questioned him.

She plastered a fake smile and made out that she watched a sad movie and that was the reason for her make up - the same she took time in perfecting - was ruined, not the real reason for the dried mascara tear tracks running down her cheeks.

A week later she walked into the tower finding it strange that no one made their way to greet her like they always did before. She walked into Steve’s room to surprise him, when she got a surprise of her own.

Her husband of three years, the man that she had been with for six years, the man that she had been in love with for eight years was thrusting away like his life depended on it into a woman that she had been insecure about since she came back to work for SHIELD, the same woman that Steve had reassured her that she had no reason to worry or to be threatened by.

Sharon.

She had no idea how long she stood there for watching the scene in front of her until she watched them kiss, it was then and only then she stumbled backwards knocking into the door which caused a noise.

The headboard stopped violently banging against the wall, the mattress stopped squeaking and Steve’s face drained of all colour as he saw his wife catching him in the act of his betrayal.

“B-baby” he had the audacity to call her whilst still inside of another woman.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she forced her legs to take a step in front of the other, shaking as she pressed the elevator button her eyes stung as the tears threatened to break over the barrier.

The moment the silver shiny doors open she stepped in repeatedly hitting the close button just as Steve managed to make it around the corner.

This man who she had loved for eight years, the same man that she had just caught cheating had the audacity to look sad at the heart-breaking expression on her face.

A month had gone by since that painful day, and after weeks of him begging and grovelling and profusely promising that he would never do it again, that he would be better. Promising that he would go to therapy to fix his mistakes.

She asked how many times he had cheated on her and he hesitated before telling her that it had been going on for a month before hastily telling her that it meant nothing, just sex - as if that made it any better.

Now please don’t judge her, for eight years she had loved him more than she had ever thought you could love someone and for six years he was all she knew. She loved him with all that she had even if he did the one thing that she never thought he would do to her. She took him back.

When the team found out what he had done they rallied around to the apartment she shared with Americas golden boy, all telling her that they knew nothing, Tony had told her that he told Fury that he was kicking Sharon out of the tower and how Fury had made her move to a different SHIELD location. The team cleaned up the mess she had made the night she got back to their apartment after catching her husband’s betrayal. 

The team understood why she agreed to take him back though none of them liked it. They thought-no knew she deserved better than their friend, their captain. But they promised that they would always be there if she ever needed them, no matter what.

Steve understood that it was going to take her some time for them to go back to being ‘normal’ even though she didn’t know if they could ever get back what they once had.

She tried, she really did try and put it behind her but every night when she closed her eyes she was plagued by the memories of him with a woman that wasn’t her. Every time she woke up she would look to the right of her to find him facing her sleeping peacefully.

And every night she sneaked into the bathroom to put two fingers down her throat to be sick.

She was trying to be better she really was, she couldn’t help but flinch every time he went to kiss her or when he told her that he loved her.

She tried.

God she tried.

The first time they had sex was four months after his betrayal came to light. She hated how much she loved that feeling of him being on her, that feeling of him being close to her. She hated it because the loud banging of the headboard and the squeaks of the mattress took her back to that moment.

After what was normally an act that she once loved and treasured, that had now become a bittersweet moment between the married couple she went to the bathroom and did her routine that she did now after every meal she was forced to eat.

Though she was struggling, she wasn’t the only one.

Steve had gotten mad more than once about how she would always pull away from him or how she wouldn’t look him in the eyes anymore or how their lovemaking was now him doing all the work. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t gotten over it like she said she did - she never said that, she just forgave him.

He had also complained not only to her but to his friends about her weight loss, how he would see her flicking the elastic band against her wrist that she would now wear.

What Steve hated most was when a storm made its way through New York she wouldn’t seek shelter in the warm comfort of his arms, no she would now lock herself in the bathroom and sit in the corner with her knees pulled up to her chest, flinching every time the loud cracking sound made it’s way through the apartment.

He had made the biggest mistake of his life and now it was costing him.

A year had gone by, six months of Steve getting solo counselling and another six months of them both going to marriage counselling later they had gone back to being how they once were, don’t get it wrong she still sometimes got nightmares about his betrayal but each time she would talk about it to him the next morning and they would talk it over, just like their therapist suggested.

Everything was going perfectly once again they celebrated their fourth anniversary together where Steve took her to a cabin that had a private lake, they spent the nights looking up at the stars that twinkled up in the dark sky and she would giggle when he picked her up and carried her to bed before making love to her over and over again.

Sometimes she would be okay with what happened in the past but then she would find herself thinking if Steve had what they had with Sharon.

It all came crumbling down six months after their fourth year anniversary when Steve announced that he would be travelling with the rest of the Avengers to help out the SHIELD headquarters in London.

Her heart stuttered hearing that.

That was exactly where Sharon had been located to.

He promised that he wouldn’t go anywhere near her, said that he would never make that mistake again. Swore that he was so in love with her that he wasn’t going to stray away from their marriage again.

She believed him.

She trusted him.

Five minutes after he left their apartment she rang to the bathroom to do something she hadn’t done in months. She put her fingers down her throat.

Every day that he had been away he rang her to talk about everything and anything, she had asked him if he had seen Sharon, he said yes but every time she tried to talk to him he walked away.

She believed him.

She trusted him.

When he came home with a massive bouquet of her favourite flowers, neither one of them left the apartment for three days straight. Both had grown sore from their activities.

One night, three weeks after he arrived back from London she received a text message from an unknown number, two photos were attached.

Her heart shattered.

A photo of a sonogram with Sharon Carters name at the top and a screenshot of Sharon’s messages she shared with Steve. Steve talking about how he couldn’t wait to be a dad, her saying that their time in London was special and him agreeing.

She looked to the right of her and saw him sleeping peacefully.

And once again she crept out of bed and began her routine she unfortunately picked up again.

He told her he was going on a solo mission and that he would be back in two weeks. She nodded and kept her head down. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t look at him or how she moved her head to the side so he only kissed her cheek.

She wasn’t foolish. She had gone through his phone and saw the messages between him and Sharon, he wasn’t going on a solo mission he was going back to London to spend some time with her and the growing baby in her stomach.

Her wrist had now a permanent circular bruise from snapping the elastic band.

She had lost count of the amount of tear she had shed from his betrayal and now that there was going to be a child added to the mix she cried more than she had ever done before.

Finally gaining the strength and courage she went to a lawyer and filed for divorce, it broke her heart to do so but it needed to be done. She could no longer go on like this. She could no longer be made a fool out of.

She needed to finally love herself, once again.

When he came home after being in London with her and their unborn child he frowned at seeing their apartment next to empty, all of her things missing, he saw her sitting on the couch looking just a beautiful as she always had.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“I know about London and how you’re having a baby with her. Please sign the divorce papers”

“B-baby no… no she means noth-“

“You told her that you love her. You’re having a child with her. Please just stop and sign the papers”

He got down on his knees in front of her begging and crying, pleading with her to change her mind, told her that he would never have anything to do with Sharon or the baby ever, that they could be happy again.

She responded with telling him to sign the papers.

He cried and cried. Telling her how much of a mistake he had made, telling her over and over again that Sharon meant nothing to him. She flinched and grew angry when he said the baby meant nothing to him. That’s when she snapped.

“How dare you! That baby is innocent, as much as I can’t stand it’s parents don’t you dare say that! Poor child was only conceived because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, because you and its mother are terrible people. Yo-you promised me last time and I forgave you, and yet here we are now and you’re having a child with a woman that isn’t me. Sign the papers I won’t ask again.”

“P-p-please we can m-make this work”

“You honestly expect me to stay with you whilst you have a child with your mistress? No Steven that’s not happening. I choose to pick me first now, I deserve better, I deserve to be happy. You and your mistress deserve each other, you and your mistress deserves to be so miserable with each other. Just sign the fucking papers!”

He flinched at her swearing, his heart cracking as she pushed the divorce papers into his chest, he admits that he only slept with her once in London and the next morning the regret washed over him like a tidal wave threatening to swallow him whole. He didn’t love Sharon, god knows he didn’t. He loves the woman standing in front of him. Heck he wasn’t even sure if the child was his as Sharon has a boyfriend.

He finally took the pen from her hand and shakily opened up the papers, his heart sinking into the pits of hell seeing that she had already signed it. Gazing up to face her once more he realised that she was dead serious about this, he couldn’t let her down again so he signed his name next to hers.

“Thank you. Goodbye Steven have a terrible life”

They were the last words he would ever hear come out of her mouth as she walked straight past him and out of his life.

Months later she was behind the counter of the diner she worked at laughing at what one of the customers was saying about something his two year old son had gotten up to, wiping down the counter as another customer chimed in talking about how it only gets worse from here on out with children when the TV that was hanging in the top right corner said something that had a woman laughing.

It was being announced that the baby that Sharon had publicly announced as Steve’s was indeed not his. The baby had been born not even a month earlier and was already infamous by being the possible child from Captain America’s affair.

“I still can’t believe he cheated on his wife with that thing” Joey a loyal customer scoffed with a shake of his head.

“What’s your take on this sugar?” Lolly - Joey’s wife - asked as she sipped from her coffee.

“It’s a shame really” you answered keeping your eyes on the small television screen watching as Steve walked out of the courthouse where the camera man zoomed in on Steve’s wedding ring finger, seeing the ring that she put on his finger nearly five years ago still sitting there.

As for her, she finally found was it was like to love herself again. She could look herself in the mirror now and not point out her ‘flaws’, she no longer wore an elastic band around her wrist, nor did she force herself to be sick.

She was still sick sometimes but not because she wanted to be.

She was finally happy, her skin was glowing as Kiki - her boss - had kept telling her. Her happiness and self-love continued to grow along with her stomach.

Placing one hand on the right side of her large protruding stomach she smiled up at the screen seeing Steve in his car with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Let it be known that she had survived, and that she had gained the love for herself that she thought she had lost.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[gabessquishytum]

Saw an old Ballet AU ask and just... I'm melting.

I love my clichés, so ex-dancer Dream who is a single father to Orpheus. Dream is very bitter about not being able to dance anymore due to an injury + not having time for physical therapy. So it takes some courage for Orpheus to ask him to teach him to dance. Dream refuses but signs Orpheus up to a dance class, somewhere where he can dance and Dream doesn't have to think about dancing.

Enter ballet teacher Hob, who just wants his young students to have fun. Dream is a little surprised that Orpheus doesn't come home exhausted and miserable like he used to. He decides to check the class out, just to make sure he's not paying crazy money for a scam.

Hob is not a scammer for sure. What the kids are doing is learning ballet. But Hob does not scream at them when they mess up, doesn't make them do something over and over again until they collapse. He gently motivates them and lets them set their own pace.

Dream tells himself he will not visit the class ever again after he made sure it's legit. It made his heart ache to see Orpheus, who is his little clone, dance like he used to. But then there is this event where the kids are supposed to bring their parents and Death was supposed to fill in for Dream but she [insert excuse] at the last minute and he has to go because Orpheus would be heartbroken if he didn't attend. Nothing can be done; Dream will just explain that he's had a serious injury and can't dance. Hopefully, they will still let Orpheus participate.

But Hob assures him that he will not make him do anything difficult, he should at least try, for Orpheus, and when Dream is exhausted, Hob will gladly fill in for him, but please try... Dream is easily swayed by Hob's doe eyes and agrees. And he absolutely regrets telling Hob about the injury because Hob remains close by his side, supporting him through movements that should be difficult to an amateur that Dream would still manage in his sleep. He is basically dancing with Hob as Hob keeps his hands on Dream, and for a moment even Orpheus is forgotten, though he doesn't mind because he's finally seeing his dad smile! Probably for the first time ever.

I'll cut it off here before it becomes an entire ficlet. XD You all know how the story goes, anyway.

- 🚒

Am crying softly. I bet Dream was so torn up when Orpheus said he wanted to do ballet. Of course Dream would do anything for his son, but with his past, its so painful to see this little mini version of himself following the same path that he once took. His relief in knowing that Orpheus is being treated with kindness and is actually enjoying himself almost makes him burst into tears.

Hob actually recognises Dream from his previous career, but he doesn't go all fanboy on him when they first meet. Hob is gentle, kind, and just a tiny bit pushy - the perfect combination of things to persuade Dream that maybe he can dance. This one time.

And Hob gets to watch as Dream’s body wakes up from its long dormancy. Its the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Orpheus is grinning and twirling around with pure joy, and Dream is absolutely beaming - and oh dear, Hob might be just a tiny bit in love.

At the end of the event when Hob offers Dream an hour each week in the studio to practice some gentle dance, he promises that he'll be around to support him both physically and emotionally. He doesn't quite anticipate that Dream will lean in and kiss him on the cheek. Or that Orpheus will hug him so tightly.

And oh, he's not just a little bit in love. He's head over heels!

[0perfectimperfections0]

What if Lou accidentally came to Uglyville before the uglydolls came to the Institute of Perfection?

Not sure exactly when you sent me this, but @subwhizz has a comic/graphic novel that they are working on called "Lou in Wonderland AU" and it is exactly what you're asking.

HOWEVER, I'm never gonna pass an opportunity to write out some ideas that sprung into my head. I do suggest reading the "Lou in Wonderland" story though. Sub is an amazing artist and an even better storyteller!

-------

The machines weren't perfect themselves by any means. Come to think of it, it would be pointless for Lou to even exist if the machines didn't intentionally create flawed dolls to a certain extent. But when Nolan popped into the Institute, Lou realized maybe the humans had let the factory go. There hadn't been that bad of a mess up since...

Lou shook the memories away, focusing on the never-ending tunnel in front of him as he walked. The flashlight flickered and the bulb made a static noise as it tried to warn Lou that the batteries were dying. He ignored it. Besides, the pipes only led to Perfection, so realistically he could just turn around and get back home easily.

It flickered again and Lou slammed the heel of his hand against it. "Stupid light..." He looked up, coming to a halt. "What in the world...?" The hole that normally led to the incinerator was blocked up with splintered wood and poorly driven in nails. No wonder he had mistakes like Nolan ending up in Perfection...

But that didn't entirely make sense either. The machines would realistically pop out a faulty doll out of every 100 or so made. He'd checked the math himself. That's what made Ox such a spectacle was that it was the first doll in years since the company started that hadn't been sorted correctly. But Nolan would still be recognized as a Pretty Doll. Despite his...differences, Nolan didn't have enough faults to him for the machine to deem him as a mistake.

So, if Lou hadn't seen any other faulty dolls...and the incinerator was blocked up...then where were mistakes going?

Lou blinked as the flashlight flickered one last time before dying unceremoniously. He sighed. This was a mystery for another day. Or whenever he could manage to steal the batteries from one of the robots again.

"Good thing the pipes all lead to--OHMYDOLL!" Lou screamed and felt his heart practically leap into his throat as he freefell into...well, it had looked like darkness before but now this was just liquid darkness he was slipping through. He desperately tried to reach his arms out in hope to grab onto something, but it felt like more pipe. But why was it going down!?

He screamed the whole way down, opting in closing his eyes despite not being able to see anything regardless, and praying that death would meet him quickly.

Light soon blinded him and he hardly had time to adjust his eyes before his whole body ached from crashing onto something hard. Luckily he landed on his back.

He groaned, eyes squinting in pain and still blinded by how much light there suddenly was. Some of it was blocked out suddenly by a weird, red figure. A wing-like appendage moved across his vision a few times and then he realized there was a voice connected to it.

Lou grimaced from the pain all through his back and head. "Please tell me I'm dead..."

The head of the figure tilted curiously. "I...w-well no...um...w-would you like to be?"

Lou put a heavy hand to his forehead. "Kind of. Are you gonna kill me?"

"No, but I do offer therapy sessions."

Who or whatever this voice belonged to had a lot more personality than the mindless dolls he trained on the daily. It didn't sound like such manufactured dialogue.

Something poked his side and Lou coughed as pain and a tickling sensation bubbled through him. "We have tons of food here too. You're awfully scrawny."

Lou waved the...it felt like an actual wing. What the heck. He opened his eyes blearily and finally got them to focus on...

A...bat? A red bat.

Lou scrambled back quickly. "What in the world are you?"

The bat looked surprised and a little put off by the reaction, but he spoke calmly. "My name is LuckyBat and I'm an UglyDoll, just like you!" He smiled with sharp fangs poking out of his lips.

"Excuse me?" Lou narrowed his eyes at the creature.

"Welcome to Uglyville! We never got an announcement of a new arrival. Did you get here through the flower?" LuckyBat paced a few circles around Lou, inspecting every inch of him.

Lou would lean a little ways opposite of wherever Lucky was as he revolved. "Flower?" The bat simply gestured upward. Lou followed up to the weird sunflower-looking thing jutting out of the cliff. "Yeah, I came out of that I think." Lou shook his head. "Where did you say this was?"

"Uglyville," Lucky straightened with a smile.

"Right..." Lou winced and forced himself to stand up. He rubbed the back of his head.

"I think this belongs to you. It fell out of the flower too." Lou squinted down. Lucky held up a dented flashlight to him.

Lou took it, already knowing it really wouldn't work anymore despite getting new batteries. "Thanks...What's your name again?"

"Luckybat." Boy, this newcomer sure had a bad memory.

"Why are you called that?"

"I'm usually very lucky. Lucky to have great friends, a great home, to be alive--"

Lou snorted. If this creature was here only because the incinerator was blocked, then yeah, he was lucky to be alive.

"What's so funny?" Lucky looked genuinely interested.

Lou shook his head quickly, going back to tinkering with the flashlight. "Nothing. I have another question."

"You're full of those, huh?" Lucky smiled.

The blond rolled his eyes. "Yeah. How do I get back up into the pi--flower?"

Lucky tilted his head. "You...want to leave?"

"Yes, very much so."

The bat seemed nervous now for some reason. "W-Well, I'm not so sure, but...I think I know someone who could help! She talks a lot about the flower and going through it. I'm sure she's got a million different ways to get up there!" Lucky bounded off ahead of Lou, not bothering to see if he was following.

Lou sighed, looking at the flashlight in his hand once before tossing it behind him and following the bat toward wherever.

The flashlight flickered back on behind them.

-----

I'll probably leave this right here for now and if you want a continuation I'll make the next parts longer.

Spoiler, I think I plan on continuing it anyway, but STILL.

It's also currently 1:40 in the morning where I am and I need to go to bed...

[munson-blurbs]

eddie/hospital/morphine button

Because this man is a menace, even when he doesn't mean to be.

Warnings: mentions of smut, hospital/injuries (unrelated to the Upside Down), regulated morphine use (obviously), pregnant!Reader

WC: 1.3k

--

Your heels clack on the floor as you attach the visitor badge to your blazer, hurrying down the hall to room 114. You’re exhausted after what seemed like the longest trip ever, even though your business trips to San Francisco were nothing out of the ordinary. 

Of course, a frantic phone call from Wayne Munson is always sure to shake things up. 

The elder Munson man is typically even-tempered and cool as a cucumber. So when your hotel room phone rang and he was on the other end of the line, breathlessly explaining that Eddie had fallen off of a ladder and was unable to move, you’d gotten a ticket for the first flight back to Indiana.

“He was helpin’ hang up lights for the Christmas fair downtown, and there was a big gust of wind…took him right down. Landed on his tailbone,” Wayne rushed, choking up at the memory. “We just got him to the hospital, and they’re taking him in for x-rays. If he shattered it, he’ll need emergency surgery.”

You’d assured him that you were on your way home, already haphazardly throwing clothes into your suitcase. Between inclement weather and holiday airport busyness, it had taken you forever to be put on a plane. Eight hours later, including a layover at O’Hare and nearly an hour cab ride, you’d finally made it.

Wayne is standing outside the room, gnawing on his thumbnail anxiously. If smoking in hospitals was still allowed, he’d be halfway through a carton at this point.

“Never a dull moment when you’re a Munson, is there, darlin’?” He tries to joke, but the catch in his voice weakens his attempt at humor. You pull him in for a hug, and neither of you let go for a long time. “He’s out of surgery now,” Wayne continues. “He fractured his tailbone, and the doc said he’ll need physical therapy after he starts to heal up a bit.”

“He didn’t…did he hit his head?” you ask quietly, tears brimming in your own eyes. You’d been in fight-or-flight mode, nerves on edge this entire time, and now that you were here, you were finally able to process everything that happened.

“No, thank God,” Wayne answers, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. “That boy can’t afford to lose any more brain cells.” He lets out a terse chuckle.  

You bite your lip nervously. “Is it okay if I go in and see him?”

‘’Course.” Wayne gestures towards the door. You step in, looking at your sleeping husband laying in the bed. He’s hooked up to various beeping machines, and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him so vulnerable.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He stirs for a moment before falling back to sleep. “I’m here whenever you wake up, okay?”

“Mmm,” Eddie’s big brown eyes flutter open, and he manages a small smile. “Hi, my love,” he murmurs. Out of habit, he tries to sit up, and he winces with pain. “Shit. Well, that hurts like hell. Jesus H. Christ.”

You brush a lock of curly hair out of his eyes. “Don’t push yourself, Eds. I can help you sit up.” You bring your arms under his, supporting him as he props himself up. “Anything you need, I’m on it.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Anything?”

“Edward Munson, are you seriously asking for a blowjob right now?” You roll your eyes.

He pouts. “Hand stuff?”

“Eddie.”

“Fine,” he laments, patting the spot next to him on the bed. Before he can continue, a cough rattles his whole body, and he grimaces. 

You instinctively jump up. “Let me get you some water,” you say. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Stay with me, baby. I’ll just ask one of the nurses.” He pushes a red button next to him. “Someone should be in in a few minutes.”

You nod and sit back down. “So,” you grin, “I heard you got beat up by a gust of wind.”

“Dammit, Wayne!” Eddie groans, but his smile matches yours. “I wanted to tell people that I was wrestling an alligator.”

“Ah, yes,” you giggle. “Very realistic, given Indiana’s burgeoning alligator population.”

Eddie pushes the button again with a bit more force this time. “Usually they come running,” he mutters. “Must be jealous that my hot wife is here.”  He puckers his lips, and you kiss them until you feel him smile. “Shit, I didn’t even ask how your trip was. Did you do a lot of Important Person things? Show all those limp-dick CEOs what a badass you are?”

You swat at him playfully, careful of his wounds. “I didn’t realize how painfully boring work trips are when you can’t drink. But the munchkin made sure I fulfilled all of my food cravings.” 

Eddie perks up at that, bringing his hand to the slight swell of your belly and talking to his unborn baby. “Yeah, bub? You took your mom on a culinary tour of San Francisco?” He looks up at you with a frown. “I think he’s ignoring me.”

“He’s just mad because you’re stealing all of the attention from him,” you tease, watching Eddie page the nurses for a third time. “Babe, let me just get you some water.”

“No, ish fine,” he slurs, pressing the red button again and again, or at least trying to—his hand keeps slipping. “Thas’ why they get paid the big bucks.”

You cock your brow. “Are you okay?”

“Never better, cutie patootie,” he giggles, reaching to poke your nose before giving up and booping the air. “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“No,” he whines, “‘m askin’ you.” He bursts into a fit of giggles, stopping abruptly when the pain sets in. “Gotta stop makin’ me laugh. You’re too funny, honey. My funny bunny honey.”

“I didn’t say anything…” you muse. Was Wayne sure that he hadn’t sustained any head injuries? Panic sets in as you imagine every possible horrible scenario. A nurse walks down the hallway, and you flag her down before she passes the room. 

“I think there’s something wrong,” you blurt out. “He’s slurring his words, and he’s all confused—”

“Yeah, and I’ve been tryin’ to get a glass of water but no one’s comin’!” Eddie punctuates the last three words with more attempted button-pushing. “This service is terrible!”

The nurse massages the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Mr. Munson,” she explains calmly, “the green button is our call button. You’ve been pressing the morphine button.” As though she can read your mind, she turns to you and says, “don’t worry; there’s a limit. He won’t overdose.”

Relief courses through your body for the second time today. “Thank you,” you tell her, catching your breath. 

“Of course.” She smiles and looks back at your husband, who is currently staring into space. “Get some rest, Mr. Munson. You certainly need it.” 

Eddie laughs hysterically as she leaves. “She was totally flirting with me,” he announces to no one in particular, a dopey grin plastered to his face. “Sorry you had to see that. ‘M just irr-sistable.”

“Sure are.” You pat his head gingerly. “Go sleep, Eds. I love you.”

“Whoa, let’s not rush into things, baby,” he says, already drifting off. You chuckle as you walk out the door. 

“All good?” Wayne asks, holding out a bag of potato chips from the vending machine. 

You take a chip and nod. “Yup. Oh, except that he mixed up the call and morphine buttons, so he’s higher than a kite.”

“This is the man you chose to be the father of your child?” Wayne teases, popping another chip in his mouth. 

“Yeah, well, we just won’t have him teach the baby his colors.”

--

[enrosadiraanisaaa]

Within Session .Part Two.

Hello, this is my first fanfic. After reading several fanfics with Yandere!Leon Kennedy, I thought I hop on the bandwagon. I intend for this fic to progressively become disturbing and fucked up with each chapter. While the first few chapters will be tamed, expect the following in this series:

~Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced Breeding, Degradation, NonCon, Gang Banging, Forced Pregnancy, Somnophilia, Blackmail, Manipulation, Abuse, Pet Names, Obsessive Behavior (Duh), Torture, Constraints, Mentions of Blood & Gore, Mental Degradation, Toxic Relationship, Sexual Abuse, Masturbation, Drugged & Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity, Forced Penetration…

Also you will be retconned (Too bad 😏): Female Reader, 24 Years old and from Texas 💝

This story was purely written with RE 4 (Remake) Leon in mind. So no puppy dog Leon from RE2 or DILF Leon from later games & movies. The story takes place several months after the events of RE4. Yay, you’re in 2004!

I plan to make this series long and fleshed out, but I promise what you want will hit you like a train~🚂

This chapter does not contain any 🔞 material. This story will contain +18 content (NSFW) in the near future 🔞 If you’re a minor, please go read a real book or something, don’t cry to me when your mom finds your shit.  This story will eventually hit that point so don’t set yourself up.

Summary

As an on sight therapist for STRATCOM in Nebraska, you’re tasked with providing quality therapy for US military personnel and government agents. After working at the headquarters for 6 months, Hunnigan recommends you to a notable government agent, Leon Kennedy, who is in need of therapy. After a number of sessions with you, Leon notices a substantial stability in his sanity yet is threatened when you are offered a position back home, closer to your family and friends. Your choice doesn’t sit well with one particular client, who can’t fathom you out of your role as his therapist. Leon has found a means of keeping his precious therapist and realizes you are the key to his permanent solace. You were obviously destined to be his in some form. Why dream of him letting you go?

A\N: I was heavily inspired by Satoshi Kon’s Perfect Blue 💙, ExploreVenus’s Something Permanent and Guardian Angel by NexysWorld. They’re all great works, especially the fanfics with Yandere!Leon *chef’s kiss*. They both certainly have been feeding my obsession with Yandere!Leon in general at this point.

Hope y'all enjoy the second part! More to come 💝~ Anisssa أنيسة

Here is Part One of Within Session

Perfect Red

Despite months of residing in Nebraska, the drifting wind from the winter weather never ceased to pierce the skin to where it was nearly painful. It was an obvious contrast to Texas weather, as layers were necessary in Nebraska. With this in mind, you were beginning to regret your attire for today. Therapist attire in the winter was nearly nonexistent yet an oversized coat was a means to defeat the brunt of the cold weather. Underneath this oversized coat, a conservative two piece suit consisting of a dark red blazer and skirt that hugged your legs and passed your knees was worn. As an onsight therapist for the STRATCOM headquarters, to maintain a professional appearance was pivotal for reverence. Straight from college, you were able to land this position with assistance from Ingrid Hunnigan, an old colleague that was able to recommend you.

       While embracing warmth inside the government building, the clicking of your closed toed black heels echoed in the hallway until you reached your office. A cozy small office, decorated with baby blue walls and a cherry wood desk in the middle was where the magic happened. By peering at the calendar on the wall with bold numbers of 2004 printed on the top, today was a Monday morning in the middle of November. After booting up the computer on the desk, you elect to check emails and your schedule to discern which clients will be seen today. A sudden email from Hunnigan springs up with a ping on the screen.

     An email entailing a new client, containing a PDF for briefing with their background and information. By scanning the email with the attached PDF file, the name: LEON SCOTT KENNEDY in bold letters caught attention. That name sounded vaguely familiar. 

From Hunnigan, the email read: 

   Good morning,          A new client with client code name KenLeo has been added to your schedule. I have worked closely with him and have recommended your services. Sessions will be Monday and Fridays from 5PM to 5:50PM. I have attached a PDF file for briefing. Let me know if you have any questions!     Thank you so much,                 Ingrid Hunnigan

Hunnigan was always supportive, bringing clients from various divisions and sections from the military. Upon reviewing the file on Leon, he seemed to belong to a unique division, the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. While not surprising there were sections of the government unheard of, the words Anti-Umbrella certainly intrigued you. The file also entailed personal information such as his birthday, basic background, and some medical history. From the file, you discern Leon is currently 27, has no living family member, orphaned, and is of Italian-American heritage. Usually, other information regarding their background were included, yet Leon’s history was highly restrictive, especially details concerning his former occupation as a police officer in the late 90s. 

With a shrug, you clicked off the file and email from Hunnigan. The first session for new clients were almost like an interview process, Leon would certainly provide that part of his history if he was comfortable enough, especially if there were any occurrences that had ensued a detrimental effect on his mental health. Although, it would not be a surprise if his time as an officer would contribute to his current wellbeing. 

By returning your attention to your computer screen, you review the schedule with the block slots of clients with the addition of Leon Kennedy at 5PM later today. The day certainly was going to feel longer due to the addition of this new client, yet there was an underlying determination to guide these people in achieving their relief. 

      Currently, it was 15 minutes before the first client, and there were already a number of tasks to complete, especially gathering legal documentation for Leon. By clicking off the computer, you stand up from the computer chair with a violent stretch before removing the oversize coat, simply hanging it on the chair. With your hands, you adjust both your cherry colored blazer and skirt, while ensuring no strands stuck out from your hair.

It was time for business.

The morning breezed by with several clients, yet the afternoon slowed the pacing of the day. After an hour break, there were 5 more scheduled sessions with clients. By 5PM, you were quite exhausted, yet committed to perform effectively for an effective impression for Leon’s first session. While seated at your desk, gathering documents and legal forms, a sudden knock at the doorway interrupted your attention. As you direct your attention to the entrance of the office, the source of the knock revealed a blonde male with ocean-like eyes.

      At the sight, you immediately composed yourself and stood up to make your way around the desk to the man. “You must be Leon Kennedy, I assume?” You brightly greeted him, gently ushering him into the office.

       He nods,”Uhh, yes… you’re the therapist that Hunnigan referenced ?” Leon questions, taking a few steps into the office as you gesture at him to sit at one of the two chairs in front of your desk. 

     With a nod of your head,”Yes, and as she informed me, you have never seeked treatment or counseling before?” You ask, seating yourself on the other chair across from him instead of the chair behind your desk.

    As you sat down in the chair, you could have sworn he looked you up and down with a scrunched up face. He nods again,”Yes…” he simply says.

     With a smile, you nod,”That’s okay, let’s get started, Leon,” You say, glancing at him across to you. Leon had a noticeable frown on his face. 

       Was it the red?

[ghost-whump]

For Your Own Good

Second part to my first post!

CW: Institutionalized whump, (mental) hospital setting, vaguely creepy whumper, doctor whumper/patient whumpee, [discussed] shock therapy/ECT, restraints, implied future electricity/shock whump. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

Whumpee didn’t struggle. Couldn’t struggle.

“Come on,” Whumper held on tight to the front of the straitjacket, hand wrapped around the belt, “We shouldn’t waste time, should we?” A vicious smile tugged their lips.

Whumpee remained silent, biting at the skin of their lip. Their feet dragged slowly forward, a death march into the dark, dark room. The fear that shot down their spine at every step couldn’t hold a candle to the fire that lit under their heels, pressing them forward still.

Then, kck! shhhh… whoomph. Door closed.

No more escape. Even without the jacket, even if Whumper couldn’t catch them, the air-locked door wouldn’t budge for anything. Only illuminated by the glow of the various screens and panels and buttons and keypads, the room is a void.

A single cold slab of a “bed” stands menacingly in the center. Adorned with worn leather straps that rubbed skin raw, scuff marks from banging and scratching at the surface, all topped off with a tasteful spatter of blood near the middle.

Though, large hands undid each buckle on their person, leaving the jacket to fall to the floor. Whumpee immediately wrapped their arms around their torso, trying to cover as much bare skin as possible. Not that it would help, but it made them feel better.

“Well?” Whumper, who had pulled away by now, “You know what to do.” They gesture vaguely to the table and turn around to play with the buttons and screens.

And the doctor isn’t wrong. Whumpee does know what to do. Lay down, head forward, legs together, stare up and up and up at the ceiling.

“You’re getting quite good at this, Whumpee.” Whumper’s face came into light above them, a wicked grin twisting their face into one even scarier than usual.

Whumpee closed their eyes. They couldn’t look anymore. If they didn’t look, maybe it would stop. Maybe they’d wake up in their cell (…or their home, if they dared dream that far) and would behave this time. Never have to—

“Ah!” A thick strip of leather tightened suddenly around their wrist. Whumpee yelped and their eyes flew open.

Whumper shook their head, “Tsk, Whumpee. You were doing so well,” They buckled the strap, far too fast and tight than anytime before. They tilted Whumpee’s head, doing the same to their other wrist. “You know, I was even considering letting you off easy with some solitary. Yet you had to go and look away from me. You’re usually so good at eye contact.”

“That—agh, that hurts!” Whumpee pulled at the restraints, though they knew it was futile. “P-Please, I’m sorry, I—mmpf!”

The final strap of leather struck their face, its specialised rubber gag worming between their teeth. Protests now barely audible, Whumper smiled and pulled away. “There you go, Whumpee. That’s better now.”

Phantom pains shot through their veins, preparing for what’s to come. Each sticky node placed under their shirt wracked another sob from their chest. No matter how much it happened, it never got easier. Feeling their body seize with each passing second, flashing colors and lights that didn’t really come, nightmarish terror that never stopped.

“It’s alright,” Whumper flashed their teeth, placing the final two nodes on Whumpee’s temples, “The ECT is for your own good. Don’t you feel better after it’s done?”

They tried to shake their head, No! It feels bad! Bad bad bad! It hurt! But it didn’t stop Whumper. The doctor turned around, taking their time in approaching the large lever on the wall.

Whumper’s hand gripped the lever tight, throwing one last glance to their writhing patient. Readjusting their grip, they get ready to finally pull down. “Don’t worry, Whumpee, you’ll feel much better after we’re done.”

really not sure how happy i am with this one, but i figured it be best to post it! enjoy :]

[ceebit]

2:28 AM

wc 579 ‧ genre fluff, comfort ‧ pairing sangyeon x reader ‧ cece’s note this is not therapy i swear he’s just husband shaped. i’m merely sharing a vision <3

“is everyone asleep?”

not everyone. you’d woken up in the middle of the night to a dry mouth and an empty space in your bed, patting around the person shaped print left in the sheets to feel nothing but soft fabric between your fingers. groggy and still half asleep, you'd forced your body up to investigate why. oh, and get water, too.

birthday parties always left everyone in a state of near exhaustion, your friends left in amusingly compromising positions of sleep, and you knew you’d be subject to mumbles and groans on neck and back pain when the sun came up. lucky for you, nearly all of them are deep sleepers, so they don’t budge when you shift them all into somewhat better positions.

halfway through pulling a blanket over changmin, you find you aren’t the only one awake in your home.

the light in the kitchen is soft against the dark edges of night, and like a moth to flame, it draws you in. socked feet muffling your footsteps, you’re pulled towards the light, but stop when you hear a voice.

“should be… everyone’s been out cold for at least an hour, even the ones i thought would be restless.”

peeking through the archway separating the kitchen from the parlor, your greeted with the sight of your husband—er, fiancé’s—back, quietly conversing with someone else above the quiet hissing of the kettle somewhere out of view. a slight shift tells you it’s juyeon, lanky form splayed over your counters languidly. exhaustion hangs over the two like a cloud, drawing their shoulders down with gravity.

of course sangyeon would will himself to get up if one of his own couldn’t sleep. selfless as always. warmth blossoms in your chest like spring even against the cold.

juyeon mumbles something quiet about waking him up, but your fiancé quickly dismisses the fact. he’d once told you no one deserved to be up and alone at night with nothing but their own thoughts, rethinking choices they had made prior to that moment. it’s a snowball effect. you blink, and hours have passed and you find yourself buried underneath an avalanche of your own making. you hadn’t realized the true weight of his words until now.

the sweet smell of herbs fill the kitchen soon, and amidst pouring tea for the both of them, the comfort of the setting heightens tenfold. you, too, find yourself getting a bit drowsy.

“do you want to talk whatever’s on your mind?”

a slight rustle indicates the other’s no, followed by a promise to ease his worries when he’s had a proper night’s rest. conversation lulls to something serene.

not wanting to interrupt the moment, you slowly turn on your heel and pad back to your shared bedroom, pulling the covers back to your chin in wait. he was needed more downstairs, and you wouldn’t disrupt the clearly needed support he was giving.

time ticks on forward, framed by what you’re sure are just slow blinks proven wrong by the handful of minutes that pass with each close of your eyes. the sheets rustle after an hour passing, gently as to not disturb your half-asleep state. though tired, warmth spreads across your skin like earlier.

“water is on the bedside table for when you wake up,” comes his familiar voice, doused in comfort, as always.

[my-shields-are-down]

Take the Long Way Home…

*** NOTE - my writer’s brain is coming back online and with that I’m receiving bits and pieces of stories, so I am posting them as they hit. Ficlets if you will….I’m hopeful they’ll trigger full engagement so I can finally finish my incomplete stories before Season 7 happens***

—————

Tim Bradford made his way back to his cabin on the luxury train in the hopes of writing a chapter or two. He’d spent the past few hours zoning out while gazing upon the mountainous view from the back of the train.

His publisher was getting itchy over the paid out advance vs his lack of new book submission. Much like that TV show character Castle, he had killed off his wildly popular main character and was looking for his next muse. He could feel the stories forming in his head, filling up the space like cotton balls in a glass jar on his mom’s vanity. He just needed the spark to turn his thoughts into action and write the blasted thing. He needed his muse.

A former LAPD police officer, Tim had left the force after killing his last rookie candidate in a violent shootout. Killing his Rookie - who had aimed and then fired his police issue firearm directly at Tim with the intent to kill two days before he would have completed the program - has messed with his psyche almost as badly as being shot had messed with his body.

Once he got out of the hospital, Tim had gone to mandatory therapy and his therapist made him document his healing journey (he rolled his eyes at the memory). Dr Judy looked like someone’s grandmother (she had 9 grandkids herself), but had blue blood and a spine of steel and didn’t let Timothy off the hook. She dug into his pain and worked with him to forcibly remove and burn it into nothingness. Despite using all the latest healing modalities, it was the simplest one that did the trick - journaling.

As luck would have it, once he started writing, he really couldn’t stop. His anger at his abusive dad, frustration with his mom who never escaped, the horror he saw at war, the pride he took at training the next generation of cops, everything - it all poured out of him. This same therapist, connected him with a publisher (her nephew) and a New York Times best selling crime author was born. He wrote ten books in seven years using himself as the flawed detective and used the cases that still kept him up at night for inspiration.

Tim chuckles at the memory while unlocking his suite. His long ago friend from the police academy had given him her baby moon trip from San Diego to Key West, FL via Canada on the maiden voyage of this fancy schmancy train ride. Her husband was a kajillionaire, so this train and his suite were decked out - luxury to the max. Once inside, he flops onto the sofa and closes his eyes but instead of silence, he hears a woman’s beautiful singing voice coming in from his neighbor’s radio.

“They say Rome wasn’t built in a day…but hey.. they’ve got nothing on the patience that it’s taking me to wait…”

Tim let’s the sexy voice wash over him, when he notices the shower running and realizes he’s never heard his neighbors before and that’s HIS shower running. There was a naked, singing woman in his shower. Probably. Or an assassin waiting on the other side of the door to kill him.

“See the sands of this hourglass, are slipping through your hands.”

Tim’s eyes pop open, and he scans the cabin, noticing the fire engine red suitcases tucked under the desk, the low heeled boots next to them on the floor, the black leggings and aubergine tunic laid carefully on the armchair across from him and his last book sitting on top of an iPad case.

“Every grain has got to hurt you, takes you further from your chance.”

He leans down and pulls his carry on bag out from under the sofa upon which he sits, and pulls out his off-duty gun. He checks to make sure it’s loaded, slides the suitcase back and waits. Body feigning relaxation while he’s really on high alert. He grips the handle of the weapon on the butter soft leather of the sofa and closes his eyes.

“I’ve been holding on, for way too long (way too long)…..either you’re in or you out.”

Tim doesn’t hear the water turn off or the door open, but he does feel the small temperature change and burst of hot, humid, jasmine scented air as the mystery woman steps into the room.

“You’ve got four and twenty hours… just one day to prove to me…that your love has got the power… to make me believe… you’ll take me where you wanna be. Four and twenty hours, and that’s me.”

Tim opens his eyes as she stops singing, and raises his gun to match the one pointed at him - and in that instant he sees the most stunningly beautiful mostly naked woman of his life with tawny skin, full lips, stunning amber eyes, and pin up girl curves. He can also tell she’s a cop by the way she holds her weapon and that she’s recovering from a serious beating- yellow/green bruises on her cheek and hips, bandages wrapped around her leg, a fire engine red cast on her left wrist and forearm.

Tim smirks to himself, slightly jealous of the TO who turned this spitfire into a disciplined cop. She’s magnificent, fierce and trembling from the pain in her shoulder. He’s guessing she’s got faded bruises on her back as well.

There she is, he thinks. My muse. The heroine of my next series of books, Detective Sava Wu.

When she finally speaks she simultaneously impresses him again, and triggers the flames of desire within him. “why don’t you lower your weapon handsome, tell me your name and explain to me what you’re doing in my cabin. I don’t remember ordering you with my dinner. I’d remember that.”

———

Featuring “Four and Twenty Hours” by Joss Stone, from “The Wedding Date” soundtrack

[sizebrained]

Unstuck Together: Hazel's Perspective Part 3

Hazel is in a sticky situation. And it's horrifying. Then Ben appears.

Content Warning: Adult themes and language. Mentions of fear, death, danger, terror, therapy, injury, and first meetings.

*** Hazel cried out her eyes in physical pain from the bright, unexpected light.

She stumbled backwards and felt time slow as her booted heel slipped on the white border of the strange paper. Her legs went out from under themselves and she landed flat on her back.

Thankfully, her tail kept her from hitting the back of her head first but the floor was hard enough that she conked right out. Some time later, Hazel woke up slowly. Her head was pounding and she immediately felt something was wrong.

It was dark again, Hazel unaware that the ceiling light came on automatically and she had been just large enough to trigger it by stepping out from under the shelf. She tried to lift her head but felt her hair pulling at the scalp. She cried out in pain then tried an arm. It didn't budge.

She tried moving everything separately, then all at once. She was getting more frantic. After several moments of struggling she stopped breathing fast and heavy through her nose trying to calm herself. She was flat on her back near the center of the strange piece of paper.

She was stuck to it. The scent of it was strange, it reminded her of...something...glue maybe? Was this glue? she thought to herself in panic.

Humans keep that in bottles don't they? She tried to reason out what she could do.

She tried moving again with strained grunts but she didn't budge. She could feel whatever she was in seeping through the threads of her clothes and her skin started to feel strange.

"Fucking...HELL..." She said out loud to herself, pausing between words to try and move again. She almost never cursed, but if ever there was a time for it, this was it. She laid there taking another deep breath. Now it was a matter of waiting. Her imagination started working against her.

She was trying to think of how long it would take Cob to reach their agreed meeting spot. Would they give up early and come find her?

Would they think something had happened and make their way to their father like they had been told?

Could they make it to their father safely?

Even if they could it took a full day...how long was she going to be here? She swallowed getting very, very worried. Her predicament settled onto her very soul with a heaviness. She felt her eyes water. She missed Mary.

She missed Mary and she hated this building and she missed Mary. She wanted her human back the way she was in their youth. She imagined Mary finding her now and delicately getting her free and then helping her get clean.

She missed Mary's touch and wished she was stuck curled up against her neck with a large hand cradled around her. She was bawling now. Stuck in place on this stupid paper sure she was going to die here now.

It had been a mistake to explore without her father. Cob was so young and ill-prepared for life as a borrower. And this building was too large and difficult. Hazel started to lose her sense of time in this state. Stuck and ravaged by her thoughts and memories she couldn't help but fall in and out of an exhausted sleep. When she was awake she spent most of her time crying.

Eventually, she just hoped a human would come and put her out of her misery. That was better than this. All of a sudden the light came on. Hazel's tears stopped. She tried to look down over her feet to see, but had a difficult time.

Then Hazel recognized the gray rubber from years of seeing walkers and canes in Mary's retirement home. She prayed it was a kindly, old human like one of Mary's neighbors. "HELP." she cried out thinking it was worth the risk. There was no response. She pressed on, louder now even though her throat hurt and she was thirstier than she could remember. "Down here. Please. Help." she cried out feeling the tears return. "Please!" “I can’t…I can’t move.” After a moment, Hazel could sense large human fingers near the thin soles of her boots. Then she hit back a cry as she felt her whole body slide out with the piece of paper. The light was so bright. She squinted through the pain and saw the outline of an enormous human figure bent over staring down at her.

Either the brightness or circumstances must have been playing with her perception, humans weren't this big. “Please. I can’t move. I’m so thirsty. I want…I want…I want to live. After another moment, Hazel waited for her life to end with some smashing crush from the human. But nothing happened.

Then her whole body shook on the trap as the human spoke down to her. She hadn't been wrong. The human was THAT big.

She felt like she'd been hit in the stomach.

“Shhh shhh shhh. It’s ok. It’s ok. We’re going to be alright. We’re going to get free now.” She felt herself move again with the paper. Then it got suddenly darker as the human bent over blocking out the ceiling light for her.

Her eyes adjusted and she could see clearly again. Her eyes went wide looking up. She'd been found by the biggest human Hazel had ever seen.

She felt like she was going to throw up. Her heart was racing. She couldn't even appreciate his features, just his size. And she couldn't get away.

Everything in her body was telling her to get away from the massive figure. She never felt like this before around a human. Her whole body shook again as the human continued talking to her, somehow even louder than before. It suddenly reminded her of when Mary talked about God.

Was this what Mary thought God was like? she thought briefly. “Listen we’re getting out of this closet and we’ll get some water too ok? Just please try to stay still. We’re going to get free again. Ok?” If it hadn't been so loud that she felt the words in her bones, Hazel wouldn't have been able to process what the human was saying over the sound of her own heart beats.

She felt herself moving again on the paper. *** End Part 3!

[timaeusterrored]

(I’m not ready to let you go.)

((Mmmmmm marriage angst. Y’all know I love breaking hearts and mostly Kerry’s. Enjoy this<3))

Their marriage had been failing for years now. Therapy was out of the question for the two were too prideful, a fixit baby didn’t help, pretending Kerry wasn’t sleeping with someone else and Louise wasn’t looking up lawyers in her past time didn’t help either.

They were strangers in their own home. Their own son could sense the tension between his parents, and their adorable baby girl had no idea why she existed… but Kerry loved her anyway.

Most of the conversations between the couple were strictly about their children or work. Not even a how was your day, mostly just scheduling. You’d never know how lonely a house of four could be when parents fall out of love.

It was a Tuesday when Louise served the papers. Kerry knew it was coming, he couldn’t even say he was surprised when they appeared in front of him. And Louise already walking away. Clearly they weren’t talking about this now.

Going to a party after that was a bad idea. They both had to smile through the pain of barely knowing each other anymore while people shoved questions down their throats that they didn’t want to answer. Kerry remembered a time they’d be late to a party because they couldn’t get their hands off each other, and now they were getting ready on opposite sides of the room.

The silence over the room was suffocating, threatening to choke the couple as they got ready. Both remembering a time neither could shut up, gossiping and laughing about the people they had seen on the invite sheet. They’d be lying if they said they didn’t miss it.

Kerry looked up as he fixed on his bracelets, watching Louise pick through her jewelry box with a small frown. He held back any words of advice, knowing it’d be met with a glare or absolutely nothing. There were some days he missed his wife, missed their honeymoon phase and Ted’s early days. Then there were others he felt so suffocated, he almost couldn’t wait to get back to California. Itching to see home again.

Reality hadn’t quite hit him that moving back to the states meant leaving his kids. His strong, sweet Ted and his baby Kim. But he couldn’t fix this. They had both fucked up way too many times. Kerry had missed one of Ted’s birthdays and Louise had been seen with another man. It was basically over at this point.

…But did it have to be?

Kerry crossed the room, more or less ready to go, and knelt down in front of Louise. She simply eyed him in confusion, wondering what the hell had gotten into him this time. But he ignored it, and simply slipped one of her heels into her feet. He clasped it and went to the other, doing the same thing before standing and offering his hand. Just like old times.

His wife blinked, her face softened for the first time in a while when she looked at him. He didn’t stop loving her just because it was over. Louise was the mother of his children, his first wife, they had too many good times together for Kerry to ignore.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand when the doorbell rang and the nanny was here to watch their kids. And that was their cue to leave.

The party was boring. Most things were to Kerry these days. Boring and uninteresting, and he was on his third drink by now. He was pretending to listen when someone slid under his arm, making him start to pull back when he noticed his wife looking up at him.

“I’m bored.” Was all she had to say to get Kerry to suggest an Irish goodbye. They both walked out without saying a word to anyone.

There was a somber feeling on the car ride home, Kerry watching the city fly by while tapping his fingers.

“Remember when Ted was born?” Louise asked suddenly, making Kerry briefly wonder what was going on.

“‘Course I do. Why?” Like Kerry could ever forget that day.

“That’s the day I thought you and I would be forever.”

Oh.

The car fell silent after.

Put down was easy. Ted was always determined to stay awake for his parents so by the time they got there, he was basically a walking zombie. Kerry would carry him to bed and they’d tell him good night, before checking on Kim and heading up to bed themselves.

But Kerry couldn’t stop looking at Louise. She was beautiful in ever sense of the word, and for a little while, she had been his everything.

Before he knew it, he was on his knees again. Arms wrapped around her waist with his head on her stomach. Maybe he was tipsy, but something was making him honest tonight.

He felt her warm hands in his hair, running her fingers through the graying strands as they silently let it settle what was happening.

“I’ll sign those papers… but I’m not ready to let you go, Lou.” Kerry whispered, looking up at her.

She was crying. Her hands cupped his face and he leaned in, always a sucker for her siren song.

“I know… I’m not either but it’s for the best, Ker.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I love you. But we can’t live like this.”

“I know… I’m so sorry.”

[gothamstreetcat]

Hi everyone, I know everyone is going through some pretty severe times right now, but recently I’ve found myself in a rough predicament. A week ago I suffered a pretty severe fall, where I fell 20ft off an overpass. It was really dark, raining pretty hard, and there were no traffic lights where I was at. I could barley see in front of me and I didn’t have on my glasses because they were useless at the time. I was walking home.

Because of the fall I hurt my back and chest pretty bad and I wasn’t able to move myself much when I was first admitted. I also broke my heel which resulted in surgery. Between the EMT’s finding me, the ambulance ride to the hospital, and being admitted it was extremely disorienting, scary, and frustrating.

Due to the surgery I will be out of work for a minimum of three months but probably more. I am unable to put weight on my foot for those three months and even after that it will be very hard - if you’ve ever broken a bone before you know it’s no joke. And if you live in the US, you also know what a rip-off our healthcare system is. I had not even reached my own outrageous deductible before this occurred and I’m not even sure what my insurance is even going to cover after that. I will also have to pay for physical therapy and on top of everything, I just got a notice for my rent going above 1k - which is extremely outrageous where I live.

I am also being moved into a psychiatric facility under the false assumptions that a jumped off the overpass. Despite that there was no evidence before or after the incident that supports this assumption. I have tried time and time again to prove how unfair this is to me to no avail. While being in the hospital on suicide watch, they confiscated all my belongings (despite that I could barley move in the bed due to how much pain I was in) and have since lost my wallet, keys, shoes during this time.

I have some money saved up in an account and enough paid time off to late me a month but I know it’s not going to be enough to sustain me being out of work.

I have spent so much of my life doing for others. Helping them, making things for them and doing for them all because I care about them and like to make them happy. I don’t regret any of it - it is truly one of the few things that bring me joy in this world, but now I need to ask for some help.

I’ve been on this site for a long time making gifs. I also do lots of crafts, like modifying jackets, making buttons, and painting. I write fanfiction and have made some fan videos over on YouTube. I plan to do some jackets and painting to try and cultivate a source of income while I am not working, but I am worried it won’t be enough.

I am willing to do commissions for stories and videos if anyone in interested. (But please keep it literally within my capabilities, I know it’s so limited but I’d be willing to go to the depths of hell if someone would pay me for it). I am also open to gifset requests. And I would be open to selling some of my art on here.

I have also set up a ko-fi for small donations and here is a link to my PayPal.

I know everyone hates these kinds of posts and there are A LOT of people in A LOT worse situations than my own. But I would literally be so appreciative of any support anyone is willing to give.

If you have any questions, comments or concerns/want to know more about my fall - please feel free to ask me. Thank you all for listening and those who have been supportive thus far.

Here is some of the work I’ve done:

[leogichidaa]

Psychoanalysis Sunday: Winter Interlude

Non-magical AU where Regulus is put in therapy with a psychoanalyst

Part 1 | Previous | Next

"I am going to write to mum and tell her that - "

"You can tell her whatever you like," Sirius snaps. "She isn't going to change my mind and neither are you. I'm staying here for the holidays. I've got something really important I'm working on."

Regulus makes a face. There is no chance that Sirius plans on staying at Hogwarts to work on his studies. He is almost certainly going to engage in some sort of unsavory extracurricular activities with his friends.

"Yes, I am sure whatever it is is of the utmost importance," he says sourly.

Sirius fixes him with a hard look. "It is."

Sirius' expression is surprisingly austere. Regulus' lip curls. "You just want to stay here with your weird, sick friend. I do not understand why he cannot be weird and sick in his own home - or do his parents not want him? I suppose they must not."

"He is not weird, you little arsehole," Sirius growls.

So he is sick, then, Regulus thinks, tucking that confirmation away in the back of his mind. Not that it wasn't already fairly clear that the Lupin weirdo was suffering from something unfortunate, but it was good to know for sure.

"And his parents do want him home because they actually properly love him."

Regulus jumps on the bait immediately. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asks sharply. "Mum and dad do want you home, that is the whole point of this conversation! You are the one insisting on staying here!"

"They don't want me home. They want a - a - " Sirius waves his hands vaguely. "A perfect little doll that they can dress up and show off to all their snobby little friends so everyone can pretend that they're great parents. Like you. They want me to come home and act like you and honestly, I would rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than ever act like you."

Regulus flinches. "Shut up," he mutters, his eyes starting to sting. Sirius can tell his words managed to hit home and he looks savagely pleased. "That is not even true."

"Bullshit," Sirius says. "They say it all the time." He pitches his voice high and nasally in a mocking tone that sounds absolutely nothing like their mother at all, and says, "Why can you not be more like your brother, Sirius? Why don't you behave like perfect Regulus?"

Regulus balls up his fists and clenches his jaw, trying to focus on his anger to keep himself from the humiliating ordeal of crying in front of Sirius.

"Don't get it wrong," Sirius continues. "It isn't because they love you so. It isn't because they think you're wonderful. It's because you're a bloody empty vessel that they can fill with all their stupid ideas because you haven't a single thought of your own."

"Shut up!" Regulus repeats, louder and more determined this time.

Sirius looks at his balled up fists and smirks. "Why, what are you going to do about it? You going to hit me? No, you won't do that. You'll just write pathetic little notes about how much you wish you were brave enough to kill me so they send you to the head shrinker again and you can have all that lovely attention."

"I hate you. I hope you do jump off the Astronomy Tower."

Sirius shakes his head smugly. "Just as I thought. Go and write that to mum, why don't you?" he says, before turning on his heel and walking off.

Regulus watches him go around the corner before letting out a frustrated yell and slamming his fist against the wall, which turns out to be alarmingly solid and distressingly painful.

"I hate you," he mutters again, tears starting to flow down his cheeks now that he is alone. "I hate you so much."

He means it. He really does. He can feel the hot intensity of the hatred coursing through him.

So he can't quite work out why he still wants Sirius to stop being a prat and just come home.

[comorbidityqueen]

071024

Understanding the importance of identity has never really occurred to me. When my psychologist told me "am i right to assume you struggle with identity because you had a significant trauma in your formative years of life", i didn't know how to react. I had no idea my brain injury was a trauma, i was never told that, and the relentless bullying and ableism after my stroke at school, whilst in a wheelchair relearning how to walk again only reiterated to me, that my self worth forming at the start of adolescence was nothing short of teaching me to hate myself. So when i spent a decade of my life self harming, using drugs and alcohol, creating trauma by submerging myself in toxic relationships and situations, i never took the time to understand the lack of identity i formed. I was put on medication after medication that changed my brain more and after multiple overdoses, unaliving attempts and psychotic episodes and a bpd diagnosis, i was growing tired of trying to erase something that couldn't be. I tried hard to move into acceptance. I got sober, i focused on my stroke rehabilitation, and i learnt the self love i was so desperately seeking to have when i was younger, and that looked different than i thought. I had to learn to love a version of myself, my now authentic self, that not only was i taught to hate, but something i never anticipated living with. The grief was endless, the process was and still is incredibly difficult, but im learning to love myself regardless of the physical body i live in and the complexity that is being me.

a few days after my last physio session its afternoon. i'm having seizures, im dissociating, zoning out, barely comprehensible. This is what it looks like to rewire my brain.

I learnt how to walk again for the 3rd time in my life at physiotherapy and after i joke with my student physio that only having knives left means eating cereal is hard she demonstrates to me how my walking looks without my new foot drop AFO. After telling her wow that was dramatic and laughing with her i realise that in fact how i learnt (or adapted to walking) was not correct, and it's caused quite a lot of dysfunction in my hip, knee, heel and toes. So after coming up with the HKHT acronym and also laughing about that i spend almost an hour and half learning how to walk again. I think to myself at the time oh this is nice i wont be in pain the next day from doing the reformer or weights yet that afternoon i had never been so cognitively and mentally fatigued in my life. I had disordered speech, i could barely walk and i couldn't even concentrate enough to wind down and sleep or play animal crossing. I had seizures, and i couldn't leave my bed.

When i had an assessment for a new therapy program the next week the psychiatrist told me it was okay to be different and i replied with "is it", because despite the days where i feel like i have purpose in this world i have plenty more of feeling like i'm tired of fighting. He re-diagnosed me with bpd and told me see a neuropsychiatrist to help me navigate the correlation between my brain injury and psychiatric symptoms.

The week that followed i had some of the worst mental health episodes and when i realise the link between my brain injury and my mental health, i spend every waking moment focusing on not relapsing and staying alive. I go to AA, and visit the urgent mental health care centre, i spend time feeling safe in my partners arms. someone i never anticipated meeting yet after all the years of me feeling like people's safe house, i'm very grateful to have found the person that makes me feel safe, and at home.

I wake up in fight or flight over the next two weeks, start group therapy and go to AA, as well as spending time with my partner. I go to a brain injury SA social event, and work hard on processing trauma in a healthy way in sobriety. Sometimes feeling safe is hard yet at the same time i am very grateful to be here.

Here's to hoping the pain eases.

[fangirl-1st-class]

Sorry I didn't say hi!!!

Thank you for sharing so much about Raven. Did I spell thet right ?

I LOVE THAT you have tried to bring her back as faithfully as you constructed her in your teenage years!!!!

Was she always Zacks other half from teenage years too? Or was that something that developed over time.

I did read her coming up as Angeal's daughter. I love that she didn't even know how awesome she was and how talented she was gonna be. I got that right ?

Does she have a "how we met/fell in love" with Z? I bet it was Kunsel

How did they meet mimi? Did they become a polycule?

Sorry! So many questions!

GIGGLING TWIRLING MY HAIR SPINNING IN CIRCLESS YAPPER GONNA YAP!!! THANK YOU!!!!

So with Zack, she was meant for him day one!!! The thing is that she comes from an age where OC x Canon (let alone canon with love interest) was the cringiest thing ever so they were not 'officially' meant to be together... I still drew them kissing, of course. This kid learned whole new language only to play ff7, ofc she wasn't backing down entirely!!!!

AND YEAH BECAUSE OF THAT WHOLE OC HATE THING she wasn't meant to be Angeal's actual daughter originally, like at all!!

I know better now and I revised it and I think it's the best most tragic thing ever. And you get it right!! She learns about it much later in life. Yapping sesh under cut

Unfortunately when it finally happens, she's at the stage where it doesn't click in her head as 'I owe all my strength and determination to Angeal as I have always wanted' but as 'I wasn't good enough to be considered a daughter'. She's so viscerally Hewley it hurts. Thank God Zack has them figured out by the end of the damn game because she'd just go the same route as daddy. I'm unsure what you mean exactly by 'how we met/fell in love' question BUT THATS JUST ME BEING SILLY AND CONFUSED, LET ME JUST TYPE WHAT COMES TO MIND HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE IT!! So I can't imagine their relationship developing differently than the most pain-inducing slow-burn the world has ever seen. On the 'how' part - Raven sees Zack for the first time, as she's hidden in Angeal's house in Banora that she refuses to leave because of Genesis is running amok. Naturally, she hears about him first much earlier from the letters Angeal wrote home and oh boy... From the get go, in her eyes, Zack is an obstacle keeping Angeal away from her, if not outright stealing Angeal's attention. She lives in such JEALOUSY of the guy for a while. It's just her luck that after leaving Banora and joining Shinra, she saves him from a missile during the attack on Shinra Building. If Zack is going through the floors instead of heading straight for the entrance she helps him clear them. (...And she only steps up to save him because Angeal probably wouldn't be happy if his ass got blown up, she'd much rather hand it to him herself!!!!!!) *Sprinkling in doodles so the yap sesh is less borning!!!!!!!*

Now as for the 'fell'. Their relationship does a 360 after Angeal is gone as Raven starts to see Zack as somewhat of a replacement, begrudgingly accepting that Angeal chose him not her to pass on his sword. She tries to earn Zack's admiration instead. IT'S NOT HEALTHY!! ESPECIALLY THAT ANGEAL'S LIKE 'Hey Zack I fumbled real bad with my daughter, please can you look after her?' Now they both see in each other the last embers of their loved one and the overprotectiveness kicks up to 11. They should be in therapy.

And it only really hits her that she likes Zack for being Zack when he's gone past Nibelheim. Girl!!!!!! Kunsel is absolutely the first to notice the shift in Raven, and he misinterprets it as her being head over heels for the guy. He even writes Zack a little mail saying how he wished she looked at him the way she looks at Zack!! Kunsel changes his take a bit after he gets to know Raven better ofc, after learning who Angeal was to her.

AS FOR MIMI AND THE POLYCULE ME AND MIMI'S OWNER DIDN'T TALK THROUGH HOW IT HAPPENED WE JUST ACCEPTED IT AS A THING SINCE SHE SHIPS HER OC WITH ZACK SHSHSHSHSHSH!! WE'LL CHANGE THAT!!!!!!!

I was like 'Zack has two hands for holding his girlfriends' and she was like 'yeah!' lo and behold Zack has two girlfriends now

THANK YOU FOR ALL THE QUESTIONS, THEY MADE MY DAY!!!! SORRY FOR BEING SILLY AND CONFUSED I HOPE THIS ANSWERS THEM IN SOME CAPACITY ILY KISS KISS KISS