#i decided not to do the insurance claim

[solomon-tozer]

Okay so I have my cats back, which is such a massive relief. I need to keep an eye on them in case the toxin has a delayed effect/onset, but I really truly hope that this is the end of the ordeal (minus bloods next week to check they're still okay).

As to what happened? A certain someone I live with didn't bother to close the kitchen door. I woke up to find they'd managed to eat human food containing onion. Utterly terrifying (and expensive, but I'll figure something out).

Please be so careful as to what your pets eat and have access to.

[freakpit]

being in your 20’s sucks cause it’s like oh boohoo i have bills and pressure to make permanent life plans. guess i’ll get so stressed i want to kill myself about it

[mommalosthermind]

What is it about the kids’ winter break that always. Always. Makes the weirdest shit go wrong.

[opiazapine]

Having had multiple head injuries resulting in TBI's from the time I was 14 and having each one at like sort of different stages of life has me wondering like Do I become somehow smarter or enlightened or something each time I hit my damn head or is this a normal part of aging? There are some things I started doing and some things I have overcome doing. I also feel like I was a different person before each one. Just woke up in this body with all these memories that I guess are mine. It's been 4 years that I have been trying to get a proper neurologist..

The last one totally half assed the MRI and the EGG. My referral asked for contrast, didn't use it. Psych wanted a 24 hour min. EGG, did a 30 minute one. Somehow my 30 minute EGG from the neurologist before this actually produced a result showing abnormalities. Surprise surprise it was a nice hospital I only qualify for ER services at. I go thru my insurance and get normal test results, they shrug and tell me "keep working with the Psych." I bring this information to said Psych and they look at me like WTF?

[lalunanymph]

TOAST TO CLICHES IN A DARK PAST

not even another man's ring on your finger can stop sylus from taking what's rightfully his

warnings: fem!reader, ex-boyfriend sylus, toxic!sylus, mean!sylus, reader is engaged 🤭, cheating, oral s/ex, unprotected s/ex, collars, possessiveness, blank and ageless blogs dni

dawn says: i wrote this with one hand can you tell.... ALSO surprise at the end wbjwhjdkf ;)

“Hey, it’s me.” You can almost picture the scowl on his perfect features. “Let me in.” If patience was a virtue, waiting for another moment must be his vice.

Another sharp rap on the door shatters your peaceful evening. 

“Y/N, I’m here for my things. Open the door.” 

You decide it’s either now or never to get this over with him. 

Standing from the couch, you muster the scariest scowl you can plaster on and answer the door. “I heard you for the first time.” 

Right at your threshold, a 6 feet 2 menace stands clad in his sweatpants and compression black shirt, biker jacket hanging from his tall frame, those vermillion eyes raking up and down your figure, suddenly making you feel too self-conscious. 

You’re in a pair of gray shorts and a tank top, nothing too fancy or scandalous, yet there’s a pressing heat behind his gaze which makes your skin flush like you’re presenting yourself before him in a risque piece of lingerie.

Your mouth curls around his name like it's a cud you can’t wait to spit out. “Sylus.”

He tips his head forward. “Y/N.”

The both of you don’t say a word, and you feel much too exposed. Anyone could pass by and see you speaking to him. The ring on your finger is heavy, and you subconsciously hide it behind your back, not wanting him to see it and comment.

“Nice rock.” Too late. Your scowl deepens and you huff a sigh. 

“You said you forgot your insurance file? That’s not like you.” The sneer that carves your face is nothing in comparison to his smirk.

“I’m here for it and nothing else,” he clarifies, sweeping his gaze over you as he sweeps past you. “Don’t you hope for anything else.”

“Wh—hey,” you trail after him, spluttering indignantly. It’s just like your ex-boyfriend to walk in and claim the space as his own; large build and larger than life personality swallowing all the air in your lungs and in this room. 

He plants his hands on his hips, surveying the newly decorated living room with cool distaste. “Looks like your plan to scrub me clean from your life worked, sweetie,” the nickname drips from his lips with condescension. “It’s so… clinical.”

He’s mocking you. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your hands clench to fists by your side.

“We love the combination of gray and white,” you say past gritted teeth. “The red-black abomination you had going on was an absolute eyesore.”

“Oh,” he flickers his gaze back to you, completely disinterested. “I see. I guess you didn’t just get engaged to some random schmuck to get back at me.”

The ring around your finger is heavy enough, tempting you to smash it through his mouth. You scoff. 

“You’ve never changed, Sylus. Always mean—always a loser.”

With a single word, you find yourself pushed against the wall, your ex towering over you. The smell of his rich leather and spiced cologne swims in your head, driving you dizzy. Heat engulfs you as his arms come up on either side of your head.

“You know how this works, sweetie,” his smooth, rich tone bathes you in that blessed timber, making a shiver crawl up your spine. “We fight, we break up. You text me, I come over and—”

He’s much too close. Too overwhelming. 

Sylus waits for you to finish his sentence.

“Come on now, kitten,” he purrs. “What is it we do whenever you come crawling back to me?” 

You refuse to answer him, despite the ache spreading right at your core. You huff and turn your face to the side, finding refuge from those searing darkened eyes.

“You can’t do this to me anymore, Sylus. I feel nothing for you.”

“Nothing, huh?” If there’s one thing your ex loves more than this toxic rollercoaster you want no part of anymore, it’s the challenge of getting you back on it. 

“I’m engaged,” you emphasize, a sinking realization of this mistake washing over you. You should’ve never allowed him to come back. 

“This flimsy thing?” He plucks your left hand from your side, a sneer curling on his mouth. “Two weeks. You thought you could replace me in just two weeks?”

“We were friends—”

“He can’t treat you like me.” With the bold declaration, Sylus grows more audacious. He bends his head forward, eyes close and chest rising—inhaling your sugary vanilla body wash straight from your neck. “Can’t put you in your place like I do, sweetie.”

Your eyes involuntarily flutter shut and Sylus takes this chance to pounce on your jugular. “Where’s my insurance file, sweetie? Do you know?”

Vaguely, you recall seeing it in your bedroom. “It’s in ou—my room.”

Sylus doesn’t comment on the slip up, corners of his lips twitching. “Well? What’re you waiting for? Go get it for me, sweetie.”

Your nostrils flare, anger coursing through you. Does this guy think you’re his maid or something? 

“Go get it yourself.”

With Sylus, everything is a game. A struggle for power. He snorts and turns his gaze to the expensive Rolex on his wrist. “When does he get off?” Your ex’s sneer deepens. 

Knowing who he’s talking about, you match his energy with an eye roll. “In a few hours—”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” 

Throughout this little bantering session, Sylus never once lost his cool; calm and teasing like the asshole he usually is. This time a flash of anger sears through his tone and you falter, the repressed heat inside you lifting its head to scent the sticky sweet danger clinging in the air.

Warning, the nerves in your body scream. Stay alert.

You shut the voice down, crossing your arms. “Or, what?” You try to mimic him with one brow raised. “What’re you going to do to me?” 

Sylus doesn’t immediately react. That’s why he’s a risk to deal with—one wrong move and you could go falling back into the wolf’s den. He bides his time, staring at the silver rings adorning his slender fingers, knuckles split and bruised from his love of violence in the ring.

“The sooner you get the file for me, the faster I will get out of your life,” he smoothly interjects. “Unless… you want me?” 

He stands up lightning fast, cornering you again with his staggering presence, making you take one step back. 

You touch your throat on instinct, and Sylus chuckles.

“What? Cat got your tongue, kitten?” The use of your favorite nickname sends a wave of heat rising inside of you, the flush warm and demanding on your cheeks. Sylus doesn’t reach out to touch you, but he doesn’t need to if he wants to turn you on. 

One look. A careless brush against the back of your thigh and you’re aching all over.

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” A drop of sympathy colors the waters of his deception, and your shoulders loose their stiff edges, walls coming down a fraction. “No one can do those things to you… make you feel like that…”

He’s speaking in riddles and it’s successfully scrambling your mind.

“Sylus—”

“Turn around.” 

You inadvertently raise the stakes by shaking your head.

“What did you do, kitten?” His voice is smooth, but underneath, there’s a zing of livid distaste. Sylus never likes it when you defy him.

His jaw clenches, but he’s focused on the long game. Sylus hums. “Come on. We shouldn’t waste anymore time. Take me to your bedroom.”

The shivers wrack you tenfold and it’s borderline criminal to bring your ex back into the room where you laid with and fucked your fiance. Electricity crackles in the empty spaces, and you try your best to ignore the current sparking on your tongue. 

“Check under the bed,” Sylus suggests, doing nothing but stand by the wall, arms folded. Expecting you to pull the most weight.

You pause, sending him a look of indignation. “Why’re you ordering me around? You do it.”

Instead of adopting a look of contrition or remembering his manners like any normal person would, your psychopath of an ex shakes his head. He starts to shrug off his jacket; enjoys how wide your eyes become when he removes his shirt and tosses it to the ground.

“Sy—” you hiss, but he interrupts you with a raised brow. 

You turn mute, bunching your fingers together in front of you, a curious part of you wondering what he’ll do next—the depths of depravity he will drag you back into. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” He steps closer and closer, pushing you to the edge of the bed where you have nowhere to escape.

“I know you, sweetie. I can sense when you’re excited. I own you. You want this—you want me.” You drop your gaze, suddenly afraid of him looking into your eyes. Sylus tastes of your impending surrender right on the tip of his tongue. Call him a genius or a madman, but nobody can call him ignorant to his girl’s needs.

“I can give you what you want. What you’re craving for.” It’s too much—his presence, his voice, this smoldering heat. You feel like you’re going to combust. 

Without thinking straight, you press your hands flat on his pecs, trying to push him away, but all it does is make him grab your wrists, locking you in place.

“Don’t,” he warns, velvety smooth with his threats. Your white-haired devil of an ex smirks at your wide eyes, and chuckles. 

“Come on, sweetie,” he leans in closer, gathers both your hands in one of his own and tilts your head up to face him. “Look at me—look at me. Come on. Give me a kiss.”

He coaxes you with a gentle nudge, but it’s enough to send a battering ram through your defenses. The tension—so thick that you can cut it with a knife—comes to a jolting deadend and you have no choice but to give in. 

You fold, parting your lips and Sylus goes in straight for the kill.

Hot kisses devour your soft moans, sending shudders all over your skin as goosebumps erupt everywhere; Sylus kisses you with bruising accuracy, hell bent on getting his revenge. 

No one dares to leave him unless he declares it, and you’ve committed the biggest sin out there by throwing away his love. 

He pries your lips apart, plundering his tongue to tap and caress the roof of your mouth, running the tip over your teeth and twining messily with your own tongue; reducing you to sporadic moans and twitches. Encased in his arms, you feel small and helpless, a prey who has fallen right into her beloved predator’s jaws.

“Come here, sweetie.” Sylus plops himself on the edge of the bed, and brings you right onto his lap. You’re woozy and lightheaded when he starts to paw at your shorts, dragging it down—exposing the sweet white cotton hiding his favorite pussy.

Sylus tugs your panties down unceremoniously, and you barely have time to steel yourself when he murmurs, “How dare you say no to me?” 

A heavy hand lands right on your right cheek, jolting you forward. Your cry is part ecstasy, part pain.

It rebounds around the room, echoing your betrayal when he sends another hard spank on your left cheek, following it up with the right one; white heat engulfs you all over and your ass is on fire. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “See, sweetie? You’re wet. You’re leaking alllll over my thigh.” He drags the words and your humiliation out, plunging two thick fingers and dragging them through your folds. Sylus dangles his drenched fingers right in front of you and chuckles.

Something hard pokes your lower belly when he shifts you into a seating position, tilting your face up. The look of hunger he wears unhinges the last of your restraints and this time, you’re the one who tugs him by his hair, smashing your mouth hungrily to his.

The wet smacks and muffled groans of lips on lips. Moans. Bodies on fire. You’re rubbing yourself all over him.

Get on your knees, he orders feverishly, grabbing your hair and pushing you down in between his legs. Suck my cock. Go on, kitten. Suck my cock and make me feel good—you know you want to.

You obey him—of course you do. 

You can never forget the taste of him when he hits your tongue, like musk and man, saturating flavor making your eyes roll back in your head. The dopamine kicks in and Sylus swears he sees little pink hearts right in your eyes when you take him down your entire throat. 

Who is more insane—the psycho, or the one who dares to love him? 

You’ve always been a little loose in the head, but this definitely takes the cake. 

How you’re willing to risk everything—your stable life, your safe home, your fiance’s love—all for a man who plays with you like you’re his favorite toy. 

For a man who will never tell you he loves you or wants to marry you. 

Like he’s reading your thoughts, Sylus gives a strained chuckle. 

“Stop thinking about him. Just focus on me.” 

His abs undulate under your palms, and he eyes the twinkling ring on your finger with distaste. 

One way or another, he’s going to get you to remove it for him someday. 

Until then, he knows the perfect counterpart to that asshole's claim on you.

“Stop.” He pulls you from his throbbing cock, a smidge of pride staining his ego when he sees your swollen lips and the ravenous look in your eye. “Go and get your collar, sweetie.” 

It’s a risk to bring up the one item you didn’t toss into his box of belongings. But, his gamble comes back as a win when your eyes sharpen with want.

“Yeah,” he feeds off your reactions, an incubus desperate for your light. “Yeah, you still have it, don’t you, kitten?” 

The answer is painfully obvious on your face. 

“Why don’t you go and grab it?”

You move with uncertainty, but this time, Sylus allows it. He lets you feel through your emotions, knows the erotic pulse of submission must be tearing you into shreds—warring with your desire to stay faithful to some poor cuck. 

Sylus knows all this because he knows you; knows what you love, what you hate. How you taste at different times of the day. Your favorite flowers, fast food order, your preferred poison on the weekend. The cadences of your breath when you fall asleep in his arms. What your shampoo smells like when it lingers on his sheets.

He is, after all, the best owner you could ask for.

And you’re still obviously, undoubtedly, and painfully in love with him.

Your throat bobs with a hard swallow, but you don’t defy him. He swats your ass with a cheeky spank when you stand and shuffle out of the room.

“Atta girl,” he praises once you come back with your collar in hand. It’s a little dusty, but the leather is still supple. 

Sylus runs his fingers over it, flickering his gaze to you. 

You’re kneeling right between his thighs, head bent, hair gathered in one hand to expose the back of your neck. Waiting for him to reclaim you. 

Sylus doesn’t take such submission lightly.

This collar—proof of his quiet yet powerful devotion and fondness for you—is more of a commitment than that stupid band around your finger could ever be.

It’s his promise to always look out for you. Care for you. Protect you.

Love you.

Though the words don’t dislodge from the grasps of his ego, Sylus has and always will love you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, dragging one finger down the nape of your neck. Your shudder makes an unwilling smile curve on his lips, and he snaps the leather collar around your throat, giving it a few good tugs to see how tight it is.

You turn and stretch towards him, planting a soft kiss on his lips as gratitude—a muscle reflex for the many times he’s collared you. 

Sylus deepens the kiss, running his hands through your hair and grabbing a fistful of it, directing you back towards his throbbing, leaky cock.

You lick at a clear bead of precum slipping down, flatten your tongue to run it over your favorite prominent vein. Sylus leans back against his forearms, watching his ex-lover pleasure him on another man’s bed. 

The band around his self-control is slipping, and he can’t hold back a low, drawn out groan when you suckle on the flushed, mushroom tip.

“That’s it,” he grunts, low and commanding. Such a pretty girl you are—make me feel good, kitten. You’re doing so, so well. 

His voice is an aphrodisiac in itself, making you flush hotly. Your core throbs with neglect as you pay full attention to sucking him off, putting his pleasure above yours.

Sylus isn’t stingy with his praises or affections: caressing your hair, patting your cheek, fingering your collar when you get more worked up over sucking him off.

You’re so messy it hurts. 

Drool dripping from the corners of your swollen lips. Precum smeared all over your cheeks. Eyes low and lustful—his personal wet dream came to life.

You’re halfway bobbing your head up and down his slick shaft when he stops you, gestures for you to come back up for air.

In a swift movement, he has you under him, legs tightly wound around his narrow waist; forearms roped with muscles on either side of your head. 

His red eyes bore into yours, watching your reactions with heated attention.

Your gasp as he rips your tank top off, kissing and suckling your plush tits and nibbling on your sensitive nipples until you feel positively ripe for the picking. 

He’s tempted to leave a mark on your neck, but you know him well enough too, and shake your head with a cute little teary, “N-no. Don’t.”

Sylus will let it slide—just this once. 

The warm expanse of your bare skin opens under his palms like the bright evening sky outside. 

He savors your hitched gasp that melts into a sultry groan once he stretches you out with his girthy tip. Another inch, another cry. 

Sylus falls right into your seduction and embrace, bottoming right to the hilt; his hips clip with yours, lips mere inches from your parted ones.

He devours you with hot, open mouth kisses. From your pouty lower lip to your curved cupid’s bow, he traces your mouth to memory with his own. You taste like home, he wants to tell you, but doesn’t. He’s never had a home to compare you to. 

Sylus the orphan. The vagabond. The corrupt. 

Molded deep in your body, he supposes this is the closest to a home he has.

Your fingers twine with his above your head, another hand tangled right in his frosty white hair. 

Languid rolls of his hips. Your own try to keep up—meeting him in the middle.

Say you’re mine, he growls. Say it, kitten. Say it and I’ll make you feel so good.

“Yours,” you hiccup, unable to peel your eyes off of him. 

I’m yours, Sylus. 

His thrusts send shocks of pleasure through your body, hitting the sensitive spots inside of you and making you flinch like he’s touching an open wound.

Over and over again. His mouth grazes yours. You don’t hesitate to swallow his kisses. 

You’re clinging to me like a vine, kitten. He nuzzles your hair, your neck. Smearing his lips all over your face.

His collar jingles around your neck, muffled metallic clicks mingling with the sloppy sounds of two bodies meeting again like the sea to the shore.

Your body runs hot, flushing and going taut under his own sturdy one. 

Unfurling like a flower, your release is about to wash over you like a crashing wave. He talks you through it, going yes baby come for me come for your owner I love you I owe you you’re mine forever come back to me I can make you so happy, sweetie.

You’re shuddering like someone’s run a voltage through you, holding onto him as tears gather in the corner of your eyes.

No, stop this—you can still stop this! Your mind screams but your body doesn’t listen.

Heat sparks at your fingertips, your world going hot white. 

His name tumbles from your lips, your body cramping and pulsing out his claim over you in shaking tremors; knowing exactly who it belongs to.

Fragments of your mind fall around this soft bed, and he gathers you into the tight seam of his embrace. His warmth comes next, filling you up, the walls shaking in your periphery. 

That’s it, kitten. He’s quivering, too, you notice, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your sweaty forehead. You belong to me.

He switches to his back, and you’re sprawled across his chest, breathing heavily. 

Sylus holds you like this for a long time until your rapid heartbeat steadies to the rhythm of his breath. He says nothing and you wonder what plagues his mind.

Though quiet and pondering, his fingers run up and down the curve of your spine, drawing random patterns.

The quiet and calm this lull brings could make you drift off, if it wasn’t for the fact that your fiance would be back anytime soon.

As if he reads your mind, Sylus helps you unsnap your collar, pushing the leather circlet into your hands. He doesn’t meet your gaze while he cleans you up, dressing you again to decency. 

His silence follows from the bedroom to the front door before he exhales a laugh, breaking the melancholic spell of this mistake.

“I forgot to take my file.”

It’s a thinly veiled excuse; another loophole presenting itself as a casual observation.

Those red eyes are soft when you meet them, and if you look closely, you might see them wavering slightly with hope. 

You curl your hand over the door handle, wondering if he can tell just how badly you’re trying not to tremble when you say:

“Come back tomorrow for it.”

Sylus’ broad shoulders relax and his smile is brittle with hope.

He doesn’t kiss you ‘goodbye’ though you can tell he’s thinking about it when he flickers those vermillion orbs to your mouth.

When he leaves—bike roaring down the driveway and out of your life again—you lean against the closed door, bucking into the sadness building inside of you like an explosion waiting to happen. 

Tears chase down your face, the ring on your left hand burning against your skin as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your wails.

You don’t know what strength possesses you but you stumble to the couch, curling yourself on the plush cushions as you try to erase how sweet his lips tasted on yours. 

Your collar was quickly chucked under the bed, though you can feel its siren call demanding for more.

Demanding for him.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying, coming back to your senses once you hear the door swinging open. 

The familiar footsteps which once gave you pure joy fills you with dread when he walks into the foyer, removing his coat and scarf to hang it up. His movements are methodical—clinical, as Sylus once said. 

That name sparks a wave of pain through your soul. You can't think of him—not right now.

You blink the tears away though it’s for naught when they wouldn’t stop welling in your puffy eyes.

Your fiance sighs deeply and you’re reminded of how stressed he’s been lately; saving lives and working late night shifts. 

He hums under his breath as he rounds the corner, taken aback by your intense stare. 

He breaks out into a smile which falls when he sees the watery look in your eyes; your runny nose and swollen lips.

“Darling?” Those emerald eyes waver when he notices your trembling lower lip. “Did something happen—?”

His name burns through your lips like it’s a forbidden curse because how dare you evoke him when you were just chanting some other man’s name a few hours ago?

“Zayne… I have to tell you something…”

— please don't ask for part 2 there won't be one lol reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <333

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, translate, take elements of my story and claim it for your own across other sites.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

hehehe can i get a “We’re not playing strip poker. I don’t care what I said when I was drunk.” with Nico please and thank you <33

for my swiftie nonnie whenever they see this.

As captain, Nico was always hosting small get togethers at his shared apartment with his girlfriend. Almost weekly they either had a team dinner, poker night or some type of hangout session at their apartment. Tonight, the couple was hosting their monthly poker night. For some reason, Nico's girlfriend was the only wag who generally enjoyed playing poker, so it was usually a night of just her and the boys.

Apparently, last weekend while celebrating a win against the Rangers at a local bar, she said that this weekend instead of a normal poker night that they should make it strip poker that way the boys lose less money then they usually do to her. Of course, she was so gone she didn't remember this conversation but of course Jack took a video of her announcement that she made while Nico was in the bathroom.

Tonight, all the boys showed up like normal but Y/N knew something was up when everyone seemed to bring their girlfriend or a random girl. Even Nico found it strange and asked Timo if he got confused and tonight wasn't poker night like they talked about yesterday at afternoon skate. Timo insured his captain that it was poker night and that Jack should be there any minute and then they will get started.

The Hughes brothers as if on cue walked into the apartment announcing their arrival. Jack had the biggest smirk on his face, glancing at Nico who was still in the corner with Timo both of Nico and Y/N equally confused at the scene unfolding in their living room.

"Okay who's ready to play some strip poker?" Jack asks.

Immediately both Y/N and Nico express their confusion, Nico claiming no way in hell and her agreeing. "Oh but Y/N it was your idea?" Jack pokes, he knows he's poking a bear - the bear being his captain - but Y/N has known Jack for even longer than she has known Nico and really he just wanted to annoy his best friend.

Nico gritting out the words from his mouth "the fuck she didn't." As his hands became fists at his side. Jack pulled out his phone and pressed play, making sure he was far away enough that he could dodge an angry Nico but close enough that Nico could hear his girlfriend's drunken idea on from Jack's phone.

The video ended and Jack looked at Y/N, she squinted her eyes at him in annoyance. "Yeah Jack not happening, but since you wanted to embarrass me in front of everyone. in my apartment. " Jack gulped as he watched her fold her arms over her chest and he realized he forgot how Y/N always seem to end up on top when someone tries to pull one over on her. She started emphasizing each word and with each word Jack stomach bubbled more in anxiety.

Jack started to brace for the impact of your words as he watched an anger Nico smirk knowing his girlfriend can handle her own. "Has everyone here ever seen the video of Jack on his 21st?" Y/N questions the group as they all agree they haven't.

"You wouldn't!" Jack screeched suddenly embarrassed.

"I would. Delete the video and apologize or I will send the video right now in the team's groupchat." she threatens, slowly pulling her phone out of her back pocket.

"okay!okay!okay!" Jack screams his fingers working quickly to delete the video. "Im sorry Y/N/N. Just please don't send it to anyone okay?" he begs.

"okay Jacky, now let's play poker."

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

Later that night as Y/N and Nico climb into bed he can't help but laugh at the events that unfolded earlier tonight. "hey baby?" he questions, "what was that video anyway?" He asks as he pulls her into his arms, Y/N laying on her back and Nico on his side his arm stretched over her waist.

"Oh just a video of Jack crying, hunched over the toilet because he drank way too much. He was babbling on and on about how he was never gonna drink again and then he decided he was fine and didn't need my help getting up. But as he got up he fell backwards into the tub."

Nico laughed as Y/N retold the story of the stupid embarrassing video she had from Jack years ago. "hey about what you said in Jack's video I wouldn't mind if we played"

Before Nico could finish his thought she cut him off, "We're not playing strip poker. I don't care what I said when I was drunk."

[solar-wing]

⚣ It's Not A Competition 🥇

⚣👊🏻 A/N → SURPRISE! double post today! I've been wanting to do a Clark Kent post forever but never had any good ideas. Then, this popped into my mind. Also, I'm really trying to clear out my drafts and any old requests. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Jealousy | Established Relationship

⚣👊🏻 Summary → Dark Knight this and Dark Knight that. What about Superman?! He's also a great hero! Better than Batman, at least. The guy doesn't even have powers. But that's what makes him more interesting and cool, according to Y/N. And frankly, Clark has had quite enough and intends to show him why Superman is way better than Batman.

⚣👊🏻 Words → 4.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👊🏻

Clark just didn’t get it.

Why was it that Y/N was so obsessed with Batman and not Superman? All the young reporter ever talked about was the Dark Knight and how he was so cool and mysterious. Going on and on about his awesome gadgets and the fact that he had no powers, which made him so interesting.

Clark very much would beg to differ.

“You know, Superman can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and I heard he can move faster than the speed of sound,” Clark pointed out while walking with Y/N down the sidewalk. They decided to go out for lunch and since the Daily Planet was so close to one of Y/N's favorite restaurants downtown, he figured, why not just walk together?

“Clark, not this again,” Y/N chuckled while sipping his drink.

“I’m sorry, you just always talk about how great Batman is, and I’m not saying he’s bad, but I don’t get how he’s better than Superman?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Lois with all your Superman praise and comparison.”

“Well, she’s not wrong. I mean, come on. What can Batman do that Superman can’t?” Clark asked, looking down at his boyfriend while waiting for an answer.

“Batman’s quicker on his feet. He thinks of solutions faster and more creatively than what I’ve seen from Superman. Plus, he’s resourceful. The guy’s got a freaking jet. The only people I could think of that own jets and planes and all the crazy gadgets he has would probably be Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne.”

Clark tried not to react to the irony of that statement, rather focusing on how he could combat that logic even though it was true. He had to admit that his comrade, whether in the field or in practice, was very good at analyzing a situation and using whatever he had around him to his advantage.

Still, it didn’t mean he was better than him.

“Well, Superman can also fly, and as many have witnessed, is crazy strong.”

“Yes, he is. But if Batman can afford a jet, I’m pretty sure he can afford a jetpack, too. Plus, we all know how strong Superman is, some more than others. Their insurance claims can definitely speak to how strong he is.”

That last line Y/N said was more so to himself than as a statement to Clark. However, it didn’t take away the slight sting from his words, considering how true they were.

“So you’re saying Superman is reckless and bad at his job or something?” Clark accused.

“What? No, I’m not saying that at all. Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’re acting as if you know the guy. Wait, do you know him?” Y/N asked, now looking up at his giant of a boyfriend.

Sometimes, he wondered what kind of genes ran in Clark’s family. It was a bit of a puzzle to Y/N why the six-foot-something man was in journalism rather than something that seemed more his speed, like fitness or athletics.

“No, of course not. I just don’t think it’s fair or even logical to compare Superman to someone like Batman, considering what each of them has respectfully achieved, not to mention the state of their cities and everything. I mean, have you ever been to Gotham before?” Clark asked, doing his best to not draw any more curiosity or suspicion out of the younger male.

Not that he was doing a good job of that in the first place.

Clark just wished he could’ve shown Y/N why Superman was better than Batman. They’d only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t reasonable or even smart for the Kryptonian to consider revealing his identity to him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Clark, it’s not a competition. You know that, right?” Y/N said, placing his hand on Clark’s arm.

They paused in their steps, Clark looking down at the gentle hand lying across his forearm before looking up into the eyes that always put him under a spell. He smiled to himself, thinking of the fact that even if Y/N favored Batman over Superman, Clark was still the real winner, because he had him.

He took his hand in his own, doing his best to contain his excitement pulse at the feeling of his larger hand surrounding the smaller one in his grip. Y/N was still a male, so his hand wasn’t dainty or small by any means, but compared to Clark’s, it might as well have been.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I got a little bit crazy.” Clark apologized with a small kiss on the shorter man’s hand causing a slight blush to appear on the smaller male’s cheeks.

“It’s ok. Besides, I like a little bit of crazy. Keeps things interesting.” Y/N said before continuing their walk towards Clark’s place of work.

‘You have no idea,’ Clark thought to himself as he followed behind, letting himself be tugged along.

They returned to the Daily Planet to find everywhere in a buzz, chattering excitedly with each other as various individuals were either running to the bathroom with pouches of makeup and skincare and others at their desks touching up their hair and clothes.

“What’s going on?” Clark asked aloud as he strode into the office while still holding Y/N’s hand.

“Was it like this when we left?” His boyfriend asked, chuckling at the comical movements and gestures of the rushing to get re-ready for whatever was happening.

“No, it was actually the opposite,” The reporter stated before eventually spotting Lois at her desk, who was also touching up her makeup and hair. He made his way over to the desk area, narrowly avoiding multiple people rushing while pulling Y/N closer to him to keep him from getting bumped into.

“Lois, what’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, Smallville. Hello, Y/N. Didn’t you both get the emergency email Perry sent to everyone earlier?” She said in her usual fast-paced, business tone while curling her eyelashes.

“No, We were at lunch. What was the email about?”

“Oh, Clark. Must I always have to save your butt?” Lois said before handing her phone over to the man, Y/N chuckling behind him at the comment.

Clark threw him a look while Y/N did his best to keep a neutral face before reading over the email.

“Bruce Wayne is coming to the Daily Planet?”

Y/N's eyes went comically large at the mention, immediately jumping to read the email for himself, “No way!”

Lois smirked to herself before grabbing her phone back from the man, while Clark just stared at his boyfriend in jealous shock from his excited outburst. “Yep. Wayne Enterprises has announced its support of various major liberal movements and is donating large proceeds to different organizations calling for massive change in the nation. And with this being an election year, many political figures and business entities are feeling a little uneasy at this sudden new support from the tech giant. And yours truly, landed the exclusive interview with him to get all the nitty and gritty details .”

Y/N’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head, before he ran to the bathroom himself, snatching his hand from Clark’s who looked desperately after him.

“Dammit, Bruce.” The reporter growled under his breath.

“You say something?” Lois asked while powdering her nose.

“No,” Clark responded gruffly, an irritated glint in his eye before walking to his own desk.

After everyone has ridiculously made themselves extra presentable, including Y/N much to Clark’s annoyance, the pair stand outside the room with a few others, watching through the glass pane walls as the interview is broadcast live to the entire nation. Lois asked Mr. Wayne various questions, ranging from his real intentions behind his charitable donations to whether he was looking to begin any political endeavors and win the favor of the public.

Bruce answers every question with confidence and suaveness, leaving no room for questions about his actions, and denies any political motivations. Y/N watched impressed from the other end while Clark just looked around with a grim and irritated look, his arms crossed as he listened to the interview and watched his boyfriend fanboy over his secret comrade.

“Well, you certainly seem like the charming and noble benefactor, Mr. Wayne. I can see why you're known as ‘Gotham’s Favorite Son.’ I have to ask though, even if you truly have no political ambitions, aren’t you worried that these donations and announcements along with the unwavering stance you’ve taken on these political topics will inevitably place a target on you?” Lois asked, notepad and pen sitting with poise and precision, ready to take down every little thing the billionaire said.

“Wow, I can see why she’s so respected. She’s nailing this interview.” Y/N commented.

Clark nodded to that. Even if he wasn’t feeling the most agreeable at the moment, he’d always give hats off to Lois’ skills. The woman was a powerhouse when it came to this stuff.

“Well, first off, thank you for your earlier comment. I don’t think of myself as anyone’s favorite, but even I can’t control what the public says or does,” Bruce responded with his ever-so-billion-dollar smile, earning a laugh from Lois and probably every other American tuning into this broadcast, including Y/N.

Clark, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d heard funnier.

“But, to answer your question,” Bruce continued, “...any move in the business or even the political world I imagine can be considered a risky one. I’m not going to pretend that my decisions have made some very happy, and others very unhappy. That’s life. You can’t please everyone. But, to sit and accept things as the way they are for fear of retaliation or backlash is misery in itself. I believe anyone who doesn’t speak up for what they truly believe or want for fear of ‘rocking the boat’ is just content with living in their own misery. And, let me be clear before I’m canceled—I know the meaning behind that now thanks to my kids, particularly my two youngest sons—I’m not saying someone who’s genuinely content and happy with where they are is included in this. I’m specifically talking to those who want change, and want to create a better world, but are waiting for others to do it for them.”

Despite its clichéness, many in the hall gave a small clap to the CEO’s words, Y/N looking thoroughly impressed himself.

“Wow, he really is an inspiring man,” Y/N commented.

“He’s alright,” Clark said in response.

Y/N gave the taller man a suspicious side look, “Alright, what’s going on with you? You’ve been standing there pouting

since this interview started. What, do you not like Bruce Wayne or something?"

Clark sighed before looking down at his boyfriend. It was true, he wasn't really liking the guy at the moment. But, it was just because he was so jealous. He didn’t like how Y/N was looking at him, or how he was talking about him.

It wasn't fair.

The reporter wanted Y/N to be looking at him and only him like that, and he wanted his attention and affection, and he wanted him to only talk about him like that. It was petty, and it was selfish, but Clark didn’t care.

He just wanted Y/N to only admire Clark Kent. not Bruce Wayne.

Only Superman, not Batman.

Despite Y/N's earlier words about it not being a competition, Clark knew the truth. It was a competition, one he was not planning on losing.

"No, I don't not like him. I'm just not that impressed, is all. He's not a superhero." Clark said.

"Neither is Lex Luthor. But, that doesn't stop the public from making him the villain in his story. I'm sure there's a lot more to Bruce Wayne than the media is letting on."

"Oh, trust me. There's more to him than what meets the eye," Clark mumbled to himself as the interview was getting ready to wrap up.

"Well, on behalf of the Daily Planet, I'd like to thank you for joining us today. Your words are certainly ones that will not go unheard by many. I look forward to—"

Before Lois could finish speaking, the lights in the building suddenly went out, leaving the office pitch black. A few people in the hall gasp, Y/N instinctively grabbing Clark's arm, who in turn places his hand over the smaller man's own.

"What's going on?" Someone asks.

"I don't know. It's almost like a blackout, but it can't be because we have backup generators. They should've turned it on by now." Another responded.

"Clark, what's going on?" Y/N asked toward his boyfriend, who was holding the smaller male closer to him out of instinct.

"I'm not exactly sure..."

Just as he said that, the lights came back on, and everyone was looking around confused as to what the source of the blackout was.

"Oh my god!" One of the people in the hall screamed suddenly as everyone turned back towards the interview room. Inside the room, some members of the crew suddenly had masks with insignias covering their faces on them. One of them was behind Lois holding a dagger to her neck while another stood to the side, pointing a gun directly at Bruce's head.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lane," The individual in the middle of the room said, "But, this interview isn't over just yet."

"Who the hell are you people?!" Lois asked, fear and anger in her eyes as the blade was held to her neck.

"Wouldn't you like to know? As for Mr. Wayne, we're going to have a little chat. I suggest you and your friends don't follow or intervene. Otherwise, this broadcast won't be the only thing getting cut" The masked individual threatened, nodding to Lois.

"Don't you dare touch her," Bruce warned, his expression serious, as he got ready to stand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Wayne. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen, now would we? Especially with all of America watching right now."

Bruce sat back down, knowing that his opponent was right. He couldn't let them hurt Lois, and he certainly couldn't risk any lives in this room.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. We'll make this quick," The leader said as one of the other masked goons went to lock the door that led inside the interview room.

"Clark, we have to do something," Y/N said, his heart racing a mile a minute.

"I know. Stay here. I'll be back." Clark said before running off, leaving the smaller male alone.

"What? Clark, wait! Where are you going?" Y/N called after him, but the taller man didn't hear him, already too far away.

'What the hell is he doing?' Y/N thought to himself before turning his attention back towards the situation in front of him.

As Clark rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway, he made sure no one was watching him before he ran as fast as he could into the supply closet. Once inside, he quickly changed into his suit before taking off through the backdoor.

"So, how does it feel knowing that you're on the side of the wrong? How does it feel knowing that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to fix the mess you made? All the lives lost because of you," The masked man asked Bruce, who was sitting calmly in his chair, his eyes not showing an ounce of fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. None of you wealthy elites do. You don't know the pain and suffering your companies and your products cause to others. You don't know the misery you cause. Well, allow us to show you." The man said before signaling his partners.

One of them immediately moved and grabbed a hold of the camera, pointing it directly at the masked man in the center.

"Hello, Metropolis. And hello, America. If you're watching this, that means you're just as much a part of this as we are. if you've been sitting here listening to the lies and promises of a better world by this man and his kind, you are as much a part of his schemes as he is. It is because of people like him that we have the world we live in. It's because of people like him that so many of us suffer. It's because of people like him that the world will only continue to rot and decay until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes. But, we will not be the ones who burn. We will not be the ones who lose. We will not be the ones who suffer, not anymore. Today, we fight back. Today, we will show the world that we will not be silenced, we will not be oppressed. We will not allow the likes of him and his kind to continue to control us anymore with false promises of a better tomorrow while lining their own pockets. Today, we say enough is enough. Today, we rise. Today, we will take back what is rightfully ours. Today, we take back our freedom and our lives from the rich and corrupt." The man spoke, his words filled with conviction and determination, but also hatred and poison as he stared deep into the camera.

"And if any of you try to stop us, then you will be considered just as guilty as the rest of them. We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. And if you think that the likes of Batman and Superman will save you, I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

As soon as the leader was done with his speech, the sound of the glass shattering was heard as Superman broke through the windows, flying into the room before stopping directly in front of the man holding the camera.

"But, I am..." The Man of Steel said, shooting a laser beam at the dagger being held by the goon threatening Lois. He immediately dropped the blade as it became too hot, giving the Daily Planet reporter the opportunity she needed to escape his hold.

"Bastards," She cursed, turning around and delivering a kick to the masked man's groin.

He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor before Lois punched him in the face, knocking him out.

Superman turned his attention back toward the masked man standing in the center, "I believe it's time for you to take a hike."

"Not yet. We still have unfinished business," The man said before signaling his other henchman. The man immediately aimed his gun at the Kryptonian, firing shot after shot into him.

Superman stood his ground as the bullets hit him, before eventually, the gun ran out.

"You're right. This is definitely the end," Superman said as he flew toward the man, knocking him out before he could reload his gun.

As Superman finished off the last of the henchmen, the leader turned back towards the camera, "Sorry, Superman. But, the damage has already been done. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what's to come."

Before the Kryptonian could stop him, the man took out a smoke bomb, throwing it onto the ground and covering the room in a cloud of smoke.

"Crap," Superman cursed, unable to see as the man escaped.

As the smoke began to clear, Bruce took out his phone, "Alfred, I need you to track this signal."

"Understood, sir. I've also informed the police and they're on their way," Alfred responded.

"Good," Bruce said before turning back towards the room.

The actual camera crew was not out in the hall, hugging their co-workers who were all relieved at their safety. The broadcast was cut from the air, but there was no doubt every TV station from here to San Francisco was talking about it. Y/N was standing nearby, his eyes filled with awe and admiration as he stared up at Superman.

There was something oddly familiar about him.

...

Nah.

"That was incredible, Mr. Wayne," Lois said.

"I could say the same thing about you. I'm glad you're ok."

Lois smiled at him, "You were worried about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked, a small smile forming on his lips.

Lois blushed slightly before turning back to look at Superman, who was now standing right in front of the two.

"Thank you for the save, Superman," Lois said, extending her hand out to the Kryptonian.

"My pleasure," Superman said, shaking the woman's hand before his attention was drawn toward Bruce who just gave him an appreciative nod. Though the look in his eyes signaled they would definitely be communicating about things later.

As Bruce and Lois moved towards the hallway, Lois spotted Y/N who was standing close to the door peeking inside.

"Oh Y/N, there you are! Thank goodness, you're alright." Lois said, walking over to him and hugging him.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?" He asked, looking up at the woman.

"I'm fine. I'm tougher than I look."

"That's good to hear. And, it's good to see you’re okay as well Mr. Wayne. That was scary." Y/N said, turning his attention to the billionaire.

"Yes, I'm glad I'm alright, too," Bruce said, his attention on Y/N.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne, this is Y/N L/N. He's one of our upcoming new reporters along with Clark Kent, who you've met before." Lois said, introducing the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, extending his hand out.

Bruce took it, giving the younger man a firm handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."

As the two looked at each other, Clark was standing nearby, his gaze focused on the two, his fists clenched.

'I swear to Rao...' He thought to himself, jealousy coursing through his body as he watched the two interact.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked.

Bruce turned to look at the woman, an amused eyebrow raised, "He must be getting trained by you," He said, sparking a laugh from Lois and another eye roll from the Kryptonian before flying off, "And please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me feel old."

"Bruce, then. What do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked again.

"Well, I can't be certain, but based on their words and their actions, I'd say they were a group of anarchists."

"Anarchists?"

"Yes. They're not an uncommon group. Many people are growing tired of the way things are in this country. With the state of the economy and the government, it's only a matter of time before things begin to boil over."

"So, you think this is going to happen more often?"

"I'm not sure. But, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."

Y/N nodded his thoughts on the events that had transpired earlier.

"Y/N!" Clark called, interrupting the conversation.

"Clark, there you are! You had me worried sick," The smaller male said while hugging his boyfriend, missing the sharp look the taller man was throwing at the billionaire.

"I just went to alert the building security and the police. Seems everything turned alright though since Superman showed up," Clark said, wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist while still giving a side eye to Bruce who was watching with amusement.

"Yes, thank goodness he did. I'm sure we all owe him a huge thanks for his services."

"Yes, indeed we do. But, unfortunately, I must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N." Bruce said, extending his hand once more to the younger man, who took it, shaking it gently.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, too."

Bruce smiled at him before turning back to Lois, "And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Lois."

"Likewise, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce smirked, "I do believe we're a bit past the formalities now, Lois. Please, call me Bruce."

"Of course. Bruce." The woman replied, her tone flirty and her expression coy.

Y/N noticed this and turned to look at Clark, whose expression was blank as he looked on.

"Will do, Lois. I look forward to our next meeting," Bruce said before stopping in front of Clark.

"Good seeing you as well Clark, as short-lived as it was," Bruce said, extending his hand out for a handshake.

Clark reluctantly took it, the handshake lasting longer than was necessary.

"Likewise," Clark replied.

Bruce nodded, his eyes giving the reporter a knowing look before he was escorted out by security.

Once the billionaire was out of sight, Clark and Y/N decided to leave as well, making their way towards the elevator.

"Well, that was a crazy day," Y/N said.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Do you think Bruce Wayne knows Batman?"

Clark stopped mid-step, a shocked expression on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.

"Are you serious right now? You can't be serious?" The taller man said with an indignant expression.

"What?"

"You're still thinking of Batman after Superman just came and saved everyone?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a hero too. They both are. Besides, Superman is always getting most of the credit, don't you think? It would make sense if they were working together. You know, the world's greatest detective and the world's greatest hero, solving crime and catching the bad guys. Wouldn't that be so cool?" Y/N asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought.

"No, not really. I don't see why that would be a good idea," Clark said, rolling his eyes.

Y/N sighed, "Clark, remember what we talked about earlier about it not being a competition?"

Clark looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with frustration, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to obsess over Batman. Superman is just as obsessed-worthy!"

"Clark, seriously, what is up with you? It's not like I want to marry him or something."

"You're acting like you want to," Clark mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Clark. I'm not going to say I'm not a fan of Batman. I mean, I think he's cool. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not a fan of Superman either. I'm a fan of both of them. I think they're both great heroes, and I think they both do good work."

"But, you don't think that Batman is cooler, or that he's better than Superman?" Clark asked, his expression pleading.

"I mean, I guess. But, why does that matter? Why are you so hung up about this?"

"Because, I—" Clark started before stopping, knowing he was about to give away his identity.

"You what?"

"I just want you to think of me, is all," Clark said, looking down at the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Y/N's heart softened at the confession, the older man looking like a little kid who just got his favorite toy taken away. He stepped forward, cupping the taller man's face in his hands, causing him to look up.

"Clark, I do think about you. I think about you all the time and I love how protective you are of me. Whether I like Batman or Superman more isn't going to change that" Y/N said, trying his best to ease his boyfriend's fears.

"Promise?" Clark asked.

Y/N chuckled, "I promise."

"Good," Clark smiled while leaning down to place a kiss against his boyfriend's lips, "You should still like Superman more."

Y/N rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Clark. I'll work on that."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. Now come on, we now have a celebratory date to go on." Y/N said as he grabbed Clark's hand.

"What are we celebrating?" Clark asked with a laugh as he was pulled towards the elevator.

It was always adorable watching the smaller male pull Clark around like it was nothing.

"Surviving our first criminal encounter together," Y/N said while hitting the first-floor button.

"First?"

"Honey, we live in a city with sky-high insurance because a superhero lives here. You really think this will be the last?"

He definitely doesn't.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[howdoyouwhiskit]

*deep breath* so I’ve been meaning to make a big post about House re:mobility aids and chronic pain treatment for a LONG time so here we go this is gonna be a long ride that probably won’t make a lot of sense in regards to a linear narrative so buckle up motherfuckers

Disclaimer: I am disabled, have chronic pain, and am an ambulatory mobility aid user. I have experience using a cane, forearm crutches, a rollator, and a walker. I understand everyone’s experiences are different. I am writing this from my personal experience with mobility aids which may influence some interpretations of things

Let’s start with the obvious one, House uses his cane wrong. They recognize this in canon. It isn’t simply a case of “oh the show writers were lazy and it’s never mentioned.” What I haven’t seen people discuss is that using a cane the way House does (in my experience anyways) fucking hurts. It isn’t comfortable at all. It feels awkward and clunky and at least personally within a few minutes of using a cane in that fashion my *entire body* hurts. Plus, it doesn’t even really help take the pressure off of my leg pain.

Given the all of him there’s two conclusions that I’d like to make about this (and remember this isn’t canon, just simply my interpretation as a disabled person):

It’s very obvious that House has Feelings about mobility aids. Society can often make people think that using mobility aids is a weakness. Admitting something is wrong. House very clearly doesn’t like to do either of those things. I personally have incredibly complicated feelings about mobility aids that I can’t even begin to put into words. I see myself in House in this regard.

I can’t help but think that him using his cane incorrectly is some fucked up form of self punishment. It’s been brought up in canon that House has a tendency to self harm in various ways. I don’t think that people realizing that him using a cane incorrectly could be related. For those who are unfamiliar, using any mobility aid (even a cane) incorrectly can cause damage. I do not claim to be a doctor but I imagine that House would be dealing with back and shoulder issues at minimum from using his cane the way he does.

The next thought I have is something I think about a lot. It’s clear House’s pain fluctuates, as it does for a lot of chronic pain patients. What I don’t see a lot of people talking about is realistically he could fluctuate mobility aids with the fluctuations of his pain. Yes, I understand there are limitations within his career as a doctor, but this is House MD were talking about there isn’t exactly always exact medical realism is there? I just can’t help but wonder, what would House’s life look like, if he let himself use something other than a cane?

I know there’s an episode where House does use a wheelchair for access to an accessible parking space, and I really really wish they expanded upon this more in canon. Personally, I think House needing to be (but not necessarily acting on it) a part time ambulatory wheelchair user makes sense.

I’ve read some fic/headcanons about House needing a wheelchair (Berber it be due to an advancement in disability or as an acceptance of his current disability) yet everyone talks about him using a shitty hospital grade chair. He’s a doctor who probably has great insurance plus a lofty department head paycheck. If House were in a position to have a wheelchair, he could very very easily access a top of the line custom made chair.

I understand the representation of the standard hospital chair often comes from a place of ignorance about custom wheelchairs, I really do. I just think that the concept of using a hospital chair permanently can cloud the judgement of if it’s truly a “bad thing” or not. Hospital wheelchairs are fucking uncomfortable and not easy to use. A custom chair, when built right, is none of these things.

Just, I’d love more House fanwork that embraces the idea of mobility aids. No, I don’t mean make House randomly decide “oh I’m gonna accept help now” and make him OOC. No, I mean let’s actually dive into House’s feelings about mobility aids, create some fanworks where maybe he works through some of his internalized ableism and self hatred and lets himself be accommodated. I hate seeing fic after fic that makes it seem like it’s some tragedy that House needs crutches or a walker or wheelchair. I want it to be normalized. Disability can be progressive and that’s just life. Yes, it’s upsetting. Yes, it can be sad to those involved. No, it doesn’t mean the end of the world.

Now I think it’s time to talk in regards to the treatment of his chronic pain, outside of the way he accommodates his mobility. I think that, while this is probably related to the writers wanting to stick to the “addicted to Vicodin” plot line, House’s pain management in the series, sucks, to put it lightly. I’ve been to multiple pain management programs (both at formal PM clinics and informal PM done by other specialists) and any doctor worth their salt would have had him on some sort of nerve pain medication and probably some form of muscle relaxer from the very beginning. While, yes, one could argue that House is on these medications and it’s just not mentioned, I really really don’t think that’s the case. You could also argue that he may have been offered these things, and simply refused them. This could very well be the case. However, that doesn’t erase the fact that these things could be helpful.

When House is off Vicodin, they have him substantiating off of exclusively ibuprofen. I’ve had chronic pain bad enough to need opioids treated with high doses of ibuprofen and in my personal experience, it doesn’t do shit. It just upsets your stomach and risks kidney issues and doesn’t actually help with the pain. The fact that just because he deals with addiction he doesn’t get proper pain management is BONKERS to me.

I understand that they were, within the shows canon, attempting to claim that at least some of the pain was psychological. Just because someone’s pain is psychological doesn’t mean you do not treat it. There are plenty of ways to treat psychological pain. Again, one could argue that House simply refused. Again, I’d say that you might be right.

You notice that I say that House very realistically could’ve refused various treatments that could make his life better. Just like how it is with his cane, I believe this is an effort at self punishment. If these efforts at self punishment are conscious or not is genuinely up to you. I personally view it as unconscious, but again, as I said in the beginning, I’m interpreting this the way I see things.

Anyways, just needed to get my thoughts out there, as a crippled person who’s been obsessed with House since before they realized that their chronic pain wasn’t normal. Since before they realized that the word disabled was something that could be applied to them.

Feel free to reply to this with thoughts or questions and y'all are more than welcome to DM me to pick my brain about this!

[sleepynegress]

THIS ISN'T COMMON KNOWLEDGE BUT SHOULD BE...ABOUT MEDICAID....

If you ever find yourself in the position of living in the home of a parent who is disabled and requires full-time care and you are their primary caregiver for at least 2 years, and they intend to leave their assets to you after they pass, make sure to transfer ownership of their assets, home/land in your name ASAP...or they will require you to pay back any benefits received and claim those assets even out from under you, as soon as your loved one passes. This is yet another way that generational assets /wealth are easily taken out of marginalized communities. It is a loan.

And the sharks circle as soon as your loved one passes. Here's an article about it:

Decided to add context. I don't like to talk about it here, because ehh, social media is for my vapid entertainment thoughts for me. It's a hobby/getaway/ place to get semi-social with strangers and online friends with shared interests, but I don't want anyone else to go through what I am... Of course, this applies specifically to the U.S.'s broken healthcare system. So, for those who don't know, my mom passed recently. I am an only child with no siblings or children. My whole life during that time was 24/7 care. She had insurance, but it wasn't enough to cover everything that she needed, so Medicaid was the obvious solution, right? The government takes care of our disabled elderly who have worked until retirement, right? It seemed like the routine thing to do, I had never heard anything during the process about having to pay it back,but sure enough, less than 12 weeks after her passing, I was hit with a warning (which I followed up on and was told I would NOT be charged because of my caregiver status) and then 2 weeks later the "bill". The lady I spoke to, totally changed her attitude from the first time I spoke to her to the point where I felt scammed. Out came a patronizing voice certain people use with children, that measured whiny thing (it's always a red-flag to me and makes me instantly dislike you if you do this even with kids, btw... speak to kids like PEOPLE). I feel like an idiot. I have been doing this for over a decade and didn't think to transfer any assets of hers during that time because it *was* hers. I wanted her to feel as empowered about that as possible.

Not a single soul said I should transfer those assets to keep this from happening and now I'm facing down what feels like some kind of weird conspiracy to take the land and house.

FYI, there have been weird inquiries, the census came to mark down my mother's death literally *immediately* after she passed...and odd timing called the day of the notice to "help", with all the southern Christian signifiers (bless your heart we'll be praying for you).... It feels so seedy. Anyway, all this to say if you find yourself in a similar position....

TRANSFER THOSE ASSETS INTO YOUR NAME 2 years into caregiving or they will take them from you, house etc..

[daysofyellowroses]

red rose

kerry von erich x afab!reader | 10.9k | 18+ minors dni | tw: mentions of death, language, some smutty implications

It wasn't exactly something you had planned for, certainly not at this stage of your life. Then again, life never did seem to work out the way you had expected. After a very happy and loving childhood and slightly turbulent but overall great teenage years, your world got turned upside down when you turned eighteen. 

so i finally finished this, i did not expect it to be over 10k 🫢 i am already thinking i want to write a little part two for this, but i got a whole lot more to write before that! i hope you enjoy this, and if you perservere the whole way through i love you! 🫶🏻💗

🌼

The drive took hours, the immense heat didn't help the feeling of exhaustion that settled over you. It was a rare occasion that you drove back home to Denton from Austin, particularly in the last few years. Now you wouldn't just be visiting, you would be staying. 

Your mom had been driving home from work when she got into a car accident, one which ultimately claimed her life. It left an empty space in your heart, one you felt could never be filled. Her death felt impossible to process, you couldn't do anything but feel totally numb. You hadn't cried when you were told by the doctors that she had passed away from her injuries. You hadn't cried when you went to her funeral. You couldn't, the tears wouldn't come. There was just a hollow void in you, you couldn't focus on anything. 

After the funeral, you received an acceptance letter from college, which you ignored. You weren't in the right headspace for it, and despite your dad trying to convince you to go, you refused. That was when the guilt sunk in. Why should you get to go on with your life, have new experiences when your mom would never have that opportunity again? 

Your dad withdrew into himself too, the two of you didn't talk and when you did it was to fight and argue, both unable to handle your grief.

You needed to get away, and planned to go to Dallas for a new start. That didn't pan out, so you headed to Austin instead, with a renewed determination to start over. And you did, you got yourself a place to stay, a job in a bar, and started getting back on your feet. Over time you got your own apartment and started working in a hair salon, doing basic jobs at first before deciding to professionally train.

After about six months you had gotten in contact with your dad again. It started slow, occasional phone calls or letters, then you visited one Christmas. You weren't super close, but he was the only other person in the world who loved your mom as much as you did, your tether to her. Then, a year or so ago, just when you had thought you were starting to really build a solid bond with your dad, he went quiet. Barely any calls, wouldn't let you visit. 

You feared the worst when two months went by with no contact. The neighbors would have contacted you, you knew, but you still worried. Then you got a call from a stranger, who turned out to be your dad's nurse. She explained that he hadn't wanted you to worry, sympathizing when you said you only worried more if he was silent. There was a knot in your stomach when you asked what was wrong, trying not to imagine your dad slowly wasting away in front of you or losing his memories of your mother and you. 

When the nurse informed you that your father had rheumatoid arthritis, the knot in your stomach loosened, but only slightly. You learned that the nurse could only visit your father three times a week, and his insurance didn't cover more care. So, you took the decision to give up your life in Austin and head back home to look after your dad. 

The sun was just beginning to set when you drove down the familiar road, passing the few neighbors' houses. You turned eventually, heading down the long driveway. Your heart thudded as you spotted the large garage, dozens of cars dotted about in the yard. None of them had been worked on for a long while, you suspected, the owners no doubt not pushing for a quick return.

You drove up to the house, taking a deep breath as you parked your truck. You only took one suitcase up to the door with you, deciding to get the rest of your stuff later. Pushing the doorbell, you took a step back and glanced at the light blue bird feeder hanging by the door. Your mom would sit on the porch for hours and watch birds come and go, she always looked so peaceful when she did.

A few moments later, the door opened and revealed your father on the other side. Neither of you said anything, neither of you moved for a moment before you both stepped forward and wrapped your arms around each other. 

“You didn't have to come,” Your father murmured, holding you close. “I'm fine.”

“I know you are,” You nodded, gently rubbing his back. “I wanted to come. Now let me get my things inside, I want this unpacking out of the way.”

Once you had taken your things up to your old bedroom and unpacked, you sat on the end of the bed for a moment. It had been a while since you'd visited, but you got the same feeling you did every time. The memories came back full force, from playing with barbies with your best friend to sneaking a boy in through your window late at night. The teddy bears, posters of bands and trophies had been put into storage but the bedsheets were the same ones you'd had as a teenager. There was still a cork board above the desk with faded concert tickets, photos and birthday cards pinned to it.

You made your way downstairs, finding your dad in the living room and letting him know you'd make dinner. It was easy, moving through the kitchen again. Every time you'd visited the muscle memory came back. It always stung a little that your mom wasn't there, singing along to the radio as she chopped vegetables, the knife moving in rhythm. She always made up her own lyrics when she couldn't remember the real ones, her version always stuck in your head when you heard the songs again.

Once dinner was ready, you brought the plate to your dad on a tray in the living room. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, the way he struggled with his knife. He didn't ask for help and you waited until he set his cutlery down in frustration before you quietly got up and cut up his dinner for him.

It was only when you were laying in bed later that night that you realized that things like that would be your life from now on. Parents look after their children, then children look after their parents years and years later. It felt too soon to be looking after your dad. He wasn't even retired yet, you weren't even thirty yet. But, life doesn't always go to plan.

In the morning, you thought you were dreaming when you woke up. It took a minute to adjust, to remind yourself you weren't just visiting. There was nowhere else to call home anymore. You took a shower and got dressed before making breakfast, having more small talk with your father. You noticed his shirt wasn't quite buttoned right but elected to ignore it. 

“I'm gonna take a walk,” Your father informed you after breakfast. “the air is fre-”

“Freshest this time of day,” You smiled, giving him a nod. “I remember. I'm gonna clean up, is Carla coming today?”

“Tomorrow,” Your father replied, clearing his throat. “She comes on different days each week. She covers a big area.”

“I see,” You nodded, watching your father for a moment before clearing the plates. “Well I got this under control. Enjoy your walk.”

Once you'd cleaned the kitchen, you decided to do the rest of the house too. It wasn't bad, just needed a little sprucing up. When you got to your dad's bedroom you took a breath before walking in. Your mom's things weren't there anymore, they had been put away into storage, but her presence was still there.  As you made the bed you thought about all the times you'd climbed into your parents bed after a nightmare, the birthdays and mother's days you'd take your mom a tray, feeling so proud when she told you she loved it.

When you were vacuuming, you glanced out the window and spotted a figure heading into the garage, unable to make them out clearly. You made your way out of the house and over to the garage, the air already feeling hot. 

“Hello?” You called, holding your hand over your forehead to shield your eyes as you turned into the garage. “Can I..”

You let out a sigh as you spotted your father leaning over the hood of a truck, lowering your arm.

“Dad, what are you doing?” You asked, walking over and folding your arms. “You told me you were taking a walk.”

“I was,” Your dad nodded, looking over to you as he gestured to the truck. “Then I remembered I had this sitting in here. I gotta get it back by tomorrow, Ed’s gonna need it.”

You took a deep breath, slowly lowering your arms and stepping closer to the truck. 

“If it really needs to be fixed by tomorrow, then let me do it.”

“Let you do it?” Your father repeated, a concerned look on his face. “I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“Then good thing you're not asking,” You smiled. I'm a little rusty but you can just give some guidance if I'm going wrong. I didn't spend half my teen years here for nothing.”

“Well, if you're up for it,” Your father nodded, taking a step back. “Give it a whack.”

An hour or so later, you popped the key in the ignition and let out a cheer when the truck started. Your dad stood up from where he'd been sitting, walking over to the window.

“Well look at that,” He smiled, opening the car door for you. “You never lost it.”

“Apparently not,” You grinned, turning off the ignition. “I can drop this over to Ed, if you want?”

“If you want,” Your dad nodded, looking down at his shirt and frowning slightly before looking back to you. “You'd be doing me a favor really. He said he wasn't in a rush but..I don't want to delay him.”

“Okay, I'll drop it over,” You nodded. “I'll pick something up for dinner, too. Do you need anything else?”

Your dad thought for a moment before shaking his head and gently patting the door of the truck. 

“I'm all good. I'll let you get off.”

“Alright, I'll see you later.” You smiled, closing the door and starting up the truck. You presumed Ed lived exactly where he always had, and honestly you were a little amazed he was still alive. When you were a child he was about a hundred years old, god only knew what miracle was keeping his heart ticking.

When you were out on the road, you lowered the windows and turned on the radio, enjoying the fresh air as you sang along to the music.

‘So smile for a while and let's be jolly, love shouldn't so melancholy, come along and share the good times while we can..’

When you arrived in town, you drove to Eds's first, parking up outside and looking up at his house. The place hadn't changed in probably 50 years, not so much as a paint job. You took the keys and headed to the front door, pushing the door bell before taking a step back.

After a few minutes, a woman you didn't recognise opened the door and you wondered if you'd somehow gotten the wrong house. She certainly didn't resemble Ed, with her kind eyes, warm smile and curly brown hair. Ed looked like Mr. Magoo on a bad day.

“Hi,” You smiled, gesturing over your shoulder to Eds's truck. “I'm looking for Ed Hicks, I'm dropping off his truck.”

“That thing,” The woman rolled her eyes with a smile. “He shouldn't even be driving it, yet he still gets it dropped for repairs. Come on in darling, he's here.”

You followed the woman inside, heading into a living room that looked like it should have been in a shack in the woods. In the corner, Ed was sitting on an armchair watching the TV, looking exactly as you'd remembered him.

“You got a visitor Ed,” The woman told Ed, raising her voice. “This young lady has come to drop your truck back. Don't tell me you've been driving again?”

“Nope, cross my heart,” Ed patted his chest before looking over to you. His eyes were so pale you were amazed he could see you but he recognised you right away.

“You back at your daddy's then?” Ed asked once you'd walked over and shaken his hand, giving him a nod.

“Yes, I am,” You told him. “He was busy so I thought I'd drop your truck back, needed to head into town anyway. How have you been, Mr. Hicks?”

“Oh you know me,” Ed shrugged, looking back to the TV. “I get by. Still waiting for this one to marry me though,” He gestured to the woman. “any day now.”

The woman laughed affectionately as she shook her head. 

“Stop it you, you old charmer. Now I need to get going, you need anything else?”

“I'm all good, you get yourself gone,” Ed waved his hand. “I got my stories.”

You said your goodbyes and left the house with the woman, turning to her as she closed the door.

“I know this sounds a little strange, but your voice is really familiar,” You raised a brow. “Have we met?”

The woman looked at you for a moment before nodding and smiling, folding her arms.

“I was thinking the same thing, we most certainly talked recently. I'm Carla, I'm a nurse, I do a lot of home visits around here.”

“Carla..of course,” You smiled. “I think you look after my dad?” You gave her the details and noticed her face lit up a little as she nodded.

“I certainly do,” She smiled. “So you must be the daughter he's so proud of,” She grinned. “You know I gotta say, it is really admirable what you're doing. If I could, I'd be out at your dad's more but..I can just about manage to hold onto the days I do have.”

The two of you walked down the porch steps and towards the curb, stopping by a little red car.

“You need a ride somewhere?” Carla asked, opening her purse and taking our her keys. “I've got another visit but I can take you somewhere if you need.”

“I just need to go to the supermarket, if that's okay?” You asked, deciding to worry about getting home later. 

“Of course,” Carla nodded, unlocking her car. “Hop on in.”

You got in the car and put on your seat belt, looking over to Carla as she started the engine.

“Can I ask you something, if you don't mind?”

“Of course you can honey,” Carla smiled, looking over to you before looking back and pulling away from the curb. “What's on your mind?”

You looked out the window, taking a deep breath. 

“My dad..it's bad, isn't it? His condition? Like..I know a lot of people function just fine with arthritis but I've noticed little things he can't do anymore.”

Carla let out a soft sigh, her hand gently touching your arm.

“I won't lie to you darling, your dad's arthritis is severe, in fact..the hospital wants to run more tests just in case he might be developing Parkinson's. You came at a good time, he's going to need the extra help.”

“Yeah,” You nodded, keeping your eyes on the world outside the window. “I think I did. It just feels..strange. How do you do it every day? Look after people, see them become frail in front of you?”

“Well I love my work,” Carla replied, gently squeezing your arm before letting go. “It feels like I'm making a difference. You'll get that feeling, it just takes time. And your dad isn't so frail, he just needs more time to accept his limitations. It hasn't been easy on him.”

“I know,” You nodded, looking over to Carla. “I'm sorry I haven't been around much, but I'm glad you've been looking after him. He can be a little stubborn about accepting help but I hope he hasn't been too difficult.”

“He's been a dream,” Carla smiled. “I know that he's frustrated that he can't do all the things he used to, but he's getting a little better at accepting it every day. The hardest part seems to be work. He keeps telling me he's gonna get back out to the yard and fix up all the trucks but..it's just not possible.”

You nodded before looking back out the window, the familiar sights flashing by. 

“I found him by Eds's truck this morning, I told him I'd do it and let him tell me what to do but..I could tell he wanted to be doing it himself.”

“Well that's not a bad thing,” Carla looked over to you. “He may not be able to work himself but if he feels like he's contributing then that might ease the disappointment. Are you a mechanic yourself?”

You smiled to yourself as you shook your head, glancing over to Carla.

“No, I'm a hairdresser. I used to help my dad out in the yard when I was a teenager, picked up some things. I never really thought of it as a job, more just a hobby.”

“Hobby or not,” Carla raised a brow, gently touching your arm. “Might be something to think about. Is here okay to drop you off hun?”

“Perfect,” You nodded, glancing at the window. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime,” Carla smiled. “I'll be out at yours tomorrow, see you then.”

The afternoon passed by quick enough, you got a coffee in the diner, made small talk with people you knew in another life,  went to the supermarket, bumped into one of the neighbors who offered you a ride home. It was like you'd never left, the familiarity sinking into your bones.

Your dad was watching TV when you got home, a sight you never thought you'd see on a warm afternoon. You made your way to the kitchen, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach as you unpacked the groceries and started preparing dinner. You turned the radio on, humming along to the music as you moved about the kitchen with ease. When you were plating up dinner, you felt the knot in your stomach tighten as you got a knife and fork to cut up your dad's food. It was spaghetti, which made it easier to disguise that it had been cut, but you knew you'd have to keep doing it.

You took the plates into the living room, placing a tray on your dad's lap before sitting down yourself. 

“How was town?” Your dad asked, picking up his fork and glancing over to you. “Anybody about?”

“A couple,” You nodded, dipping your fork into your pasta and pushing it around a little. “Nobody too exciting.”

“Ah, never is,” Your dad shrugged, looking back to the TV. “Oh turn up the volume, the match is coming on.”

You reached for the remote, raising the volume and glancing over to your dad.

“What match?”

“Wrestling,” Your dad explained, pointing to the TV. “David's making his debut tonight. Should be a good one.”

“Oh,” You raised a brow, looking back to the TV. “I didn't know he was getting into wrestling..does Kevin still do it?”

“Sure does,” Your dad nodded. “He's good too. Reckon he'll be even better now with his brother on side.”

You sat back a little, your eyes watching the screen as the presenter explained the upcoming bout. When it cut to a reporter standing with Kevin and David Von Erich, you couldn't help but smile. They looked so different from when you had last seen them, but they still had that familiarity, a boyish charm. 

When David looked down the camera lens and gave a warning to the opponent, you bit your lip slightly, smiling to yourself as your Dad praised him. The match was fun to watch, your dad's enthusiasm made you think of how he was when you were a child, his passion and support for the things he loved shining through. The last thing you wanted was for him to lose that joy, to have things in his life that brought him happiness.

The actual wrestling didn't interest you all that much, but it was entertaining and fun to see Kevin and David show off their skills, raise their arms triumphantly when they won.

“What did I tell you? They got something special there,” Your dad looked over to you. “You know, you should pop over and visit them one of these days. They'd love to see you.”

“Maybe,” You nodded, getting up and placing your tray on the coffee table. “I have things to do so..I'll have to see when I got some time.”

You gathered up your dad's tray, taking the dishes out to the kitchen and resting them on the counter. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and tried to clear your mind, not wanting to give certain memories an outing.

You focused on cleaning the kitchen, taking your dad a beer when you went back to the living room.

“Just the one,” You smiled, sitting down on the couch. “So don't get too excited.”

“I won't,” Your dad laughed, shaking his head. Hell, even if I wanted another one I couldn't. Carla..the nurse,” He corrected himself, clearing his throat. “She can always tell. Scolds me something terrible.”

“Well she's just doing her job,” You shrugged, sitting back against the couch and smiling as you looked at your dad and noticed the slight smile on his face.

 “She means well.”

“Mm, she does.” Your dad nodded, picking up his newspaper from the arm of his chair and slowly opening it, his face particularly obscured but not enough to hide his smile. 

“Just gotta remember that sometimes.”

“I met her today, actually,” You glanced to your dad as you said it, watching as he didn't look away from the paper but didn't turn the page either. “She said she was coming by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, she will be,” Your dad nodded. “I saw it on the calendar.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, sitting back and reaching for the remote to find something new.

The next morning, you woke up naturally and stretched slowly in your bed as you glanced to the window. You had left the curtains half open, the warm sunlight filtering into the room. After taking some time to get up, you made your way downstairs and paused in the doorway of the kitchen as you spotted your father sitting at the table reading the paper. It wasn't so much what he was doing but how he looked, with his carefully gelled hair and good brown suit. His shirt was buttoned properly and you felt guilty for wondering how long it would have taken him, if you should have knocked on his door and offered help.

“Morning dad,” You raised a brow, walking over to him and placing a kiss on his cheek. “You're looking snappy. Don't tell me I forgot your birthday?”

“Nah course not,” Your dad laughed softly, shaking his head. “It's just polite to dress for company.”

“Of course,” You nodded, smiling as you put on some coffee. “I'm sure company always appreciates it.” 

You watched the machine brew for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking over to your dad.

“I was thinking..maybe today I could take a look at more of those trucks in the yard.”

“Hm? Why would you want to do that?” Your dad asked, and the knot in your stomach returned as you went to put on some toast. 

“Because,” You began, popping two slices of bread in the toaster. “I enjoyed it. And-” You stopped yourself from speaking the words you knew your dad didn't want to hear.

‘Because you can't anymore.’

“I need something to keep me occupied,” You continued, looking over to your dad. I'll probably only get started on one truck but I want to dust off my old skills. You didn't teach me to waste them right?

“Right,” Your dad nodded after a moment, lowering his paper. “You're right..if you want to take a look I won't stop you.” 

After breakfast you took a shower and got dressed in a simple blue sundress, glancing out the window as you heard a car approach. You smiled as you saw it was Carla's, heading out of your room and down the stairs. Your dad was in the living room, pacing back and forth a little until the doorbell rang and he rushed to answer it. 

“Morning sweetheart,” Carla smiled at your dad after he greeted her, the smile on his face wider than you'd seen for a long while. “Don't tell me I forgot your birthday?”

As Carla was running through some medical checks with your dad, you went out to the yard and made your way to the garage. You took a set of keys and found the truck it belonged to before getting into the garage. The radio was turned on, there was some shelter from the already immense heat, and you soon found yourself getting back into the swing of mechanics. A little while later you were under the hood when you heard a truck coming up the drive. You figured it would be a drop off, possibly just a courtesy one. No doubt the whole town knew about your father's condition.

When the truck door opened and closed and you heard multiple voices, you ducked out from under the hood and grabbed a cloth to wipe your hands, immediately dropping it in shock when you saw who was walking towards the garage.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked excitedly, rushing forward and wrapping your arms around Kevin Von Erich when you got close enough. He laughed and gave you a tight hug back, each of you holding each other's arms as you pulled apart.

“I can't believe it,” You grinned. “It's been..well a long time.”

“Too long,” Kevin smiled, his eyes shining. “We were so sorry not to be here for your last visit.”

You waved your hand, smiling as you looked up at Kevin. 

“Don't be silly. You big shot wrestlers have busy schedules, I get it. Caught you on the TV last night, almost couldn't believe my eyes.”

“You wouldn't be the only one!”

You laughed as Kevin turned around with a playful frown, your smile growing as you spotted Mike. You gently squeezed Kevin's arm before rushing over to Mike, his arms wrapping around you and swaying with you as you hugged him back. 

“You are not Michael Von Erich,” You teased as you pulled back, raising a brow. “you're way too grown up. Look at you!”

“Aw come on I ain't changed that much,” Mike grinned, the tips of his ears growing pink. “It's just been a minute. It's so good to see you.”

“Don't I get a hug?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, giving Mike a wink as you stepped aside and folded your arms.

“I don't know,” You shrugged, raising a brow. “You're a real big mouth hot shot wrestler now, you really need the girl next door hugging you?”

“Yes, right this second.”

“Oh yeah?” You smiled widely as you rushed forward, David's arms immediately wrapping around you and lifting you up as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

When he set you down carefully, he gave you a wink and you gave him one back, stepping back and turning to Kevin and Mike.

“What brings you all over? I know it ain't that truck.” 

The Von Erichs looked at each other for a moment before looking back at you, Kevin clearing his throat.

“Well we heard you were back in town, and..that it's more permanent this time. We were sorry to hear about your dad, hopefully he's doing okay.”

You looked at the three men in front of you for a moment, smiling as you folded your arms.

“Damn, word travels fast. Was it Ed?”

“Ed.” They chorused, making you laugh.

“Of course,” You nodded, dropping your arms. “Well I am back, and thank you,  my dad's doing well. He's got his nurse with him today so..all good.”

“Hope it's not rude to ask if you want to come over for dinner some time?” Mike asked, resting his hands in his back pockets. “and your dad, of course. Mom keeps insisting.”

“So I really can't say no then,” You smiled. “That would be great, really.”

“Perfect,” David grinned, walking over to you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Knew you couldn't resist.”

“How could I,” You grinned, resting your hand on David's back. “I've had your mom's cooking before.”

“Amen to that,” David grinned. “Listen, what are you up to later?”

“You tell me,” You raised a brow, looking up at David with a grin. “Do I need to cancel my plans?”

“Absolutely,” David nodded, looking serious for a moment before grinning. “I'm taking you out for a burger, we're catching up properly.”

So, a few hours and one fixed up transmission later, you took another quick shower before changing into a clean t-shirt and jeans. Your dad was in an extremely chipper mood after Carla's visit, and you promised him you would be back in time to make dinner.

When David pulled up outside the house in his truck you felt like a teenager again, skipping down the porch steps and getting in beside him.

“Right on time,” You grinned, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “That a new habit?”

“Not the only one,” David grinned, turning the truck around and heading down the driveway. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” You nodded, sitting back and turning up the radio a little, singing along under your breath.

‘Go lightly from the ledge, babe, go lightly on the ground, I'm not the one you want, babe, I'll only let you down..’

You smiled as David turned up the radio, the two of you singing together as he drove towards town.

‘You say you're looking for someone, who'll promise never to part, someone to close his eyes to you, someone to close his heart, someone to die for you and more, but it ain't me, babe, no, no, no, it ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're looking for, babe..’

When David parked up in town, you were laughing at some silly joke he'd made, wondering if there would be any moment where you didn't feel seventeen again. You both headed into the diner, sliding into a red leather booth you'd sat in countless times in your life.

“I don't need to look at this, but it feels polite.” You plucked the menu from its metal stand and opened it, smiling as the wave of nostalgia hit you. Your mom taking you for a milkshake after school, hanging out with friends, one order of fries between six of you, and of course being there with the boys next door. 

“I don't think you can beat a cheeseburger,” David grinned, sitting back and tilting his head slightly as he watched you read the menu. “I mean why would you not want a classic?”

“To be adventurous,” You teased, putting your menu back. “Try something other than a cheeseburger, chili fries and a coke. Unless you updated your order since we were last here?”

“Hey I know what I like,” David grinned, giving you a wink. “And like you ain't gonna order a chili dog and a strawberry shake.”

“Why would you not want a classic?” You grinned, laughing as David rolled his eyes playfully.

“Fair enough,” He nodded, glancing around the diner and sitting up a little. You were about to say something when two girls appeared at your table, probably just about twenty one. They blushed as they asked David for an autograph, giggling when he winked at them, handing back the flowery notebook. 

“You're really famous now,” You grinned, gesturing to where the girls had stood. “you'll have a fan club next.”

“You could be the president of it,” David smiled, resting his arm along the back of his seat. “Give out all the buttons with my face on them.”

“Wow, you haven't thought about this at all, huh?” You teased, sitting up a little as the waitress came over. You both ordered your classics, choosing to let it slide.

“Oh you know who I met yesterday?” You raised a brow, looking over to David. “Nancy Moss, who apparently still hates my guts even though I ain't seen her since high school.”

“She hates you?” David raised a brow. “Nah, she never hated you.”

You shook your head, sitting back and holding your hands up. “She did, and still does.”

“I don't get it,” David frowned. “Why would she hate you?”

"Because of you," You grinned, pointing over to him. "I think she was jealous."

David looked surprised, glancing around for a moment before leaning on the table and meeting your eyes. 

"Jealous? Of what? It's not like you and I ever dated. Not.." He cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed in an endearing way. “not technically, anyway.."

"I think that annoyed her more," You shrugged, resting your arms on the table. "We weren't a couple but I got to ride around in your truck, I was always at your house, you were sneaking into my bedroom at night.."

"You were the one sneaking me in," David held up his hand with a grin. "how would she even know about that anyway?"

You shrugged with a smile, resting your hand on your cheek. "I may have said some things that she overheard, not my fault if she was eavesdropping."

“Oh I see,” David grinned, sitting back and gesturing to himself. “Bragging about me huh? Can't say I blame you.”

“In your dreams,” You rolled your eyes with a grin, sitting up as the waitress brought your drinks. You thanked her before sliding your glass closer, lightly swirling the straw in the thick pink liquid.

“How are your parents by the way?” You asked, taking a sip of your milkshake.

“They're good,” David nodded, clearing his throat and sliding his glass closer. “Thanks. We're all good. You should definitely come by, they'd love to see you.”

“Yeah,” You nodded, lifting your straw and slowly dropping it, taking a deep breath. “I'll definitely try and drop by.”

“Good,” David nodded, taking a sip of his drink before leaning a little closer and reaching out to touch your arm. “Oh you know what? You should come to the Sportatorium on Saturday night, bring your dad. We got a big match coming up.”

“That I can't object to,” You smiled, meeting David's eyes. “My dad will be beside himself with excitement.”

“That's great,” David. “So will you be when you see me do my thing.”

“Oh I've seen your thing many times,” You raised a brow with a smile. “Hope it's as good as I remember.”

When you arrived back home, you felt like you were riding on a high. The afternoon had been easy and fun, you couldn't remember when you had laughed so much. You said goodbye to David and went inside the house, finding your dad in the living room reading the evening paper.

“Hey,” You smiled, walking in and sitting down on the couch. “How was your day?”

“Hey darlin’,” Your dad smiled, setting the paper down in his lap. “It was alright, Carla left that for you,” He gestured to a white envelope on the coffee table. “tried to sweet talk her into letting me read it myself but my charms need some polishing I guess.”

“I'll get you a cloth,” You laughed softly, leaning forward to pick up the envelope. “I don't know why she'd leave me something.”

“I don't either,” Your dad sighed, looking down at his paper. “Anyway, how was your date?”

“Date? It wasn't a date,” You grinned, opening the envelope. “Just two old friends catching up.”

You peeled open the envelope and took out the letter inside, your heart sinking a little when you heard your dad mutter ‘that's right, it was the other one.’

“Oh this is nothing, just her contact details in case of an emergency,” You smiled, folding the paper back up. “I'm gonna freshen up then start dinner.”

“Alright sweetheart, take your time.” Your dad nodded, picking his paper back up as you left the room, holding the envelope to your chest.

You made your way upstairs, heading into your bedroom and sitting on the end of your bed. Taking a moment, you let out a breath before taking the letter back out from the envelope. Technically you hadn't lied, Carla's details were indeed on the letter, just written above the rest of it. As it turned out, your father would have to be taken into hospital the following week for some tests, and Carla felt (accurately) it would be better to tell him closer to the time, but didn't want you to be surprised. 

Once you had carefully folded the letter back up and hidden it in your room, you went to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, trying to push the thought of hospitals from your mind.

A couple of hours later, you placed a tray on your father's lap and sat down on the couch, looking over to the TV. 

“Oh I forgot to say, I got some invites for you,” You smiled. “David invited us next door for dinner, and he's gonna get us tickets for the match next Saturday.”

“You're kidding?” Your dad held the remote in mid air as he looked over to you. “In the Sportatorium? Well, I'll be damned. You thank that boy for me won't you? I can't believe it. Oh just wait til I tell Earl.”

You laughed softly, picking up your own tray from the coffee table and setting it on your lap.

“I wasn't sure about dinner at theirs,” You began, taking a breath. “We don't have to go if you don't want.”

“Don't be silly,” Your dad looked over to you, setting the remote on the arm of his armchair. “Of course we can go. Fritz and Doris are old friends, and good neighbors. Why wouldn't we..” He stopped himself, looking back to the TV and letting out a sigh, his hand moving to his neck. 

“I uh..I believe not all the boys still live at home. Some of ‘em went off, training..”

“I see,” You nodded, keeping your eyes on the TV and trying to keep your heartbeat steady. “In that case I'll tell David we'd be delighted.”

The week seemed to pass slowly, not that you objected. You spent most days out in the garage working on the various cars and trucks, finding yourself enjoying it more and more. Sometimes your dad would come out and give you instructions you didn't need, but followed anyway. You cooked, cleaned, made sure your dad had his good clothes for when Carla visited. You watched his eyes light up when she laughed at his corny jokes. She called you sweetheart and thanked you at least three times for a cup of coffee. You went into town, you noticed people stopped asking how long you were visiting for. Everyone sent their regards to your father.

One evening you and your dad visited the Von Erichs for dinner. It felt like old times instantly, your dad and Fritz putting the world to rights while Doris insisted you didn't need to help with the dishes but gave you all the gossip when you did. Kevin told you about a girl he was seeing, and you already couldn't wait to meet her. Mike invited you to a gig, and you promised you'd go. David constantly took the seat next you and made you laugh so much you ached. 

The evening after, you had gone into town with Kevin and David to meet Pam, Kevin's girlfriend. You adored her instantly, the two of you clicking right away. You hadn't intended to get drunk, but you were having a good time and the drinks kept appearing and you didn't object. When one of the bars you visited was having a karaoke night, you and Pam were up on the stage before the alcohol-induced confidence could fade.

‘Look into his angel eyes, one look and you're hypnotized, he'll take your heart and you must pay the price, look into his angel eyes, you'll think you're in paradise, and one day you'll find out he wears a disguise, don't look too deep into those angel eyes’

By the time Mike came to pick you all up, you were wrapped around David to steady yourself, the world spinning on a loop. You struggled not to fall asleep on the ride home, resting your head on David's shoulder and focusing on the feeling of his hand on your shoulder.

When you got home, David took you inside to make sure you got to bed safely, your eyes closing the second your head hit the pillow.

“I had fun tonight,” You murmured softly, turning onto your side and letting out a sigh. “tell me ‘m fun.”

David laughed softly beside you, his hand gently touching your hair. “You're very fun. And a heck of a lot more.”

“Yeah?” You sighed softly, pulling the blanket up a little. “Then..then why wasn't I enough for him?”

“Hey,” David’s voice was soft and made you want to sleep. “don't be worrying about all that, you hear me? That's all over now. It was all just..a misunderstanding. You need to get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow.”

By the time Saturday came around, you were feeling pretty good, greeting your dad when you went into the kitchen for breakfast. You could have sworn he hid some of his paper but couldn't be sure, there was no reason for him to. You moved about the kitchen getting breakfast ready, unable to shake the feeling your dad was hiding something. 

You waited until he went to get dressed, looking under the table and finding a slightly scrunched up piece of newspaper on the floor. You picked it up and smoothed it out, trying to see what would be so offensive. Heatwave incoming, American athletes to withdraw from the Olympics, Cowboys win game, nothing to write home about. You left the paper back where you found it before cleaning up the kitchen, your suspicions melting away.

The evening came around quick, and you were looking forward to seeing the match. Your dad seemed a little quiet, to your surprise. He'd been so excited all week, now when it was time to go he didn't seem as enthusiastic. You didn't push it, especially when he didn't say anything about it. 

The Sportatorium was already bustling with activity when you got there and parked up, feeling excited for the night ahead. You went in with your dad, finding your seats and smiling when he seemed to relax more.

It was halfway through the match when you saw him.

At first you thought you were just seeing things, imagining it. Imagining him.

But he was there, sitting in the front row with Mike, cheering on his brothers.

You felt your heart sink into your stomach, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You could hear your dad cheer beside you, the crowd going wild as a body slammed down on the mat. 

You watched the rest of the match and refused to look anywhere else but the ring, wanting to run away more than anything. 

When the match ended, you told your dad you weren't feeling well, needing to get out of the arena as quickly as possible. You felt like you couldn't breathe until you got into your truck, wanting to crawl into your bed and forget the world. 

Your dad gave an enthusiastic debrief on the way back home, and you felt guilty for not sharing his excitement. When you got home you went up to your room and leaned against the door for a moment. You felt sick, your heart pounding in your chest. After getting ready for bed, you opened up the wooden chest at the end of your bed, rooting through it and eventually pulling out your last high school yearbook. 

Taking it into bed, you opened the book and looked through the photos of your old classmates, smiling at some of the quotes, laughing at the others. You flipped to the back of the book, where your friends had written messages on the white pages. You traced your finger over them, smiling to yourself until you found it.

There it was, in black and white. 

‘I love you now & always, can't wait to spend forever with you ❤️ KVE’

“Fucking liar.” You muttered, slamming the book shut and flinging it down to the end of your bed. 

The following morning you didn't want to leave your bed, a restless night leaving you exhausted. You reluctantly got up and got ready, already dreading what was to come. You went downstairs and met your dad in the kitchen, the two of you heading out to your truck.

“I know you hid something from me,” You told your dad as you started your truck. “I wasn't sure why at first but now I know. And I'm grateful, but I can't avoid him forever. He's back, I saw him last night. He's going to be there today, and we will talk to him because we are good neighbors, and I don't want to embarrass you by causing a scene.”

Your dad was quiet for a moment, and you could feel your heart racing. Eventually, he silently reached out and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I'm proud of you sweetheart, always will be,” He murmured softly. “You can do this.”

When you got to church, you wanted to be anywhere else, especially when you spotted David's truck. You walked into the building with your dad, putting on a smile and making your way up the aisle. You spotted the Von Erichs right away, giving them a polite nod as you walked by, feeling your stomach drop as you realized the only free seats were in front of them. Your dad walked down the pew first, your heart racing as you felt eyes on you. You sat down, almost anticipating a hand on your shoulder, blue eyes burning into yours. 

The service seemed to last forever, you wanted desperately to just turn and run, feeling trapped like a deer in headlights. When the reverend finally ended his sermon, you followed your dad outside and made polite conversation after polite conversation. Eventually you couldn't put it off anymore, and you found yourself with the Von Erichs. You felt like they were all looking at you like you were about to attack, electing to put on your brightest smile and stepping closer to Kerry.

“Well hey stranger,” You gave him a hug, feeling him hesitate for a moment before he hugged you back and the familiarity could have killed you. “It's so good to see you again.”

You pulled away, taking a step back as your dad greeted Kerry, your hand hammering in your chest. David gave you a reassuring smile and Kevin subtly squeezed your arm. After some small talk, you made your way to your truck with your dad. Neither of you said a word until you were back home and in the kitchen. You'd gone to put on some coffee and burst into tears.

Your dad immediately wrapped his arms around you, stroking your back and holding you close. 

“It's okay darlin’,” He murmured, letting out a sigh. “Your mama wasn't shy with the truth, and you know how she knew things about us we didn't even know? She knew all about you. She told me, and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you.”

“It's okay,” You whispered, pulling back and wiping away your tears. “It was a long time ago. I just..I just want to forget about it.”

“Alright darlin’,” Your dad nodded, letting out a sigh. “Come on, you need some rest.” 

He refused to listen to your protests, taking you to the living room and draping a blanket over you as you got on the couch. You wanted to insist you were fine but all you could do was wrap the blanket around yourself and close your eyes. 

You were dimly aware of noises around you, your dad reading the paper, the radio playing in the background. A dog barking in the distance. At one point, just as you were drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you could have sworn you heard voices in the hallway. 

‘Please sir, I just need to talk to her.”

‘It's not a good time right now.’

The next day, you went out to the garage after breakfast and focused on fixing things you could salvage. Your dad hadn't confirmed your suspicions there had been a visitor the day before, and you didn't ask. Part of you wanted it to be true, and you hated yourself for that desire.

The sun was high in the sky when you heard footsteps approaching, reaching for a clean rag to clean your hands.

“Almost done, I'll be in to make lunch in a second.”

“Hi.”

You took a deep breath as you heard the voice, clutching the rag in your hands before turning and seeing Kerry standing at the entrance to the garage.

“Why didn't you just drive over?” You asked, tossing the rag aside and walking back to the truck in the middle of the garage. 

“I wanted some fresh air.”

“Well now that you've had it you can go home,” You sighed, feeling your hands tremble slightly. “Sorry to make you waste a trip.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Kerry told you, walking closer. “I need to talk to you.”

“Who says I want to talk to you?” You sighed, keeping your eyes on the engine. 

“Please just let me explain,” Kerry sighed. “You see, I-”

“Explain what?” You interrupted, stepping back and looking over to Kerry. “That you're sorry? You never meant to hurt me, you wish you could take it back, you've lived in regret, blah blah blah. Bullshit. Save your breath.”

Kerry was silent for a moment, keeping his eyes on you before he looked away and nodded.

“I understand that you're upset, but-”

“Oh, you understand,” You scoffed, placing your hands over your heart. “That makes me feel so much better, you understand. If you understood then you wouldn't have done what you did. You never even gave me an answer, you know that? One minute we're planning our future, you're telling me you love me, we're forever, we're going to start a new life. The next minute I'm standing right here waiting for you and you never show. Then I hear you're gone. You're with her and you're heading off to start a future with her. How the fuck could you possibly understand how I feel?”

“David,” Kerry replied. His tone was soft but there was a hardness in his eyes. “That is how I understand. I thought that was all over between you, then I heard you two got back together after our graduation. I took it as you choosing him over me, I had to protect myself.”

“Am I seriously hearing this?” You laughed, shaking your head. “Some idiot told you I was with David and you just believed it?”

“Can you blame me?” Kerry muttered. “Not like you didn't have previous. I wasn't gonna sit around waiting for you again.”

You felt something inside you snapped, and you stormed over to Kerry with a fire in your eyes.

“How dare you say that to me?!” You snapped. “As if you ever sat around waiting for me, don't make me laugh. I was the one sitting around waiting for you to open your eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Kerry frowned, his voice raising slightly as he stepped forward, his tone growing harsh. “Was this before or after you fucked my brother?”

You took a deep breath, holding Kerry's gaze. 

“Don't you dare, Kerry Von Erich, throw that in my face. You never fucked anyone? Not my best friend, not every girl that was throwing herself at you? And not that it's any of your fucking business,” You held your hand up. “But the only reason David and I started doing anything was because you had stood me up again and he was consoling me. I have been in love with you since I was thirteen years old, and I thought I was destined to be your friend forever. If I couldn't have you then David was the next best thing. But I couldn't officially date him because I knew you'd never want me then. Then I did get you, I finally fucking got you and you saw me, and I..” 

You stopped yourself as you felt tears welling up, trying to push them away. 

“I couldn't believe my luck, I wanted to believe that we could be together forever, you made me feel so loved and so safe and happy then you just ripped it all away. I..I can't deal with this,”

You stormed past Kerry, the tears fully flowing. He called after you, tried to grab your arm but you pulled it away. You could hear him following you, trying to talk to you. You blocked it out, heading up the porch and into the house. Heading into the kitchen, you got yourself a glass of water and tried to calm yourself down.

“Please just let me explain,” Kerry pleaded behind you, fresh tears welling up in your eyes. “I swear I never meant to hurt you.”

You set your glass down, turning around and taking a deep breath. 

“I don't believe that. If you didn't want to hurt me you would have just left, but you left with someone else. You left with my best fucking friend, so don't tell me you didn't want to hurt me.”

You walked past him, heading to the living room and freezing on the spot when you got there. 

“It's not what you think,” Kerry sighed as he approached. “I can explain if you-”

He looked at you before following your gaze.

You felt like time stood still as you ran across the living room and dropped to your knees, your dad lying unconscious on the floor.

“Dad,” You gently shook his shoulder. “Dad it's me, wake up. Come on, wake up now..”

You felt panic set in as he didn't respond, holding your hand to his hot forehead. 

“Dad..please wake up, you're not leaving me. Come on..”

A few minutes later, Kerry appeared by your side, dropping to his knees beside you.

“I called an ambulance, they're on the way,” He explained, gently touching your back. “He's going to be okay, don't you worry.”

“How can you know that,” You murmured, closing your eyes as more tears filled your eyes. “What if I've lost him too?”

“Hey, don't say that,” Kerry wrapped his arms around you and you didn't object, sobbing into his chest. “He's going to be fine,” Kerry whispered, stroking your back. “It's not his time yet, you got him for a whole while longer.”

“I'm still mad at you, you know,” You muttered, taking a shaky breath. “But thank you.”

Everything seemed to happen in a blur. You only remembered clinging to Kerry as paramedics came into the house and got your dad into the ambulance. You held his hand on the ride to the hospital, your head buried in Kerry's shoulder. 

Being back in the hospital waiting room felt like a nightmare. You wanted to be anywhere else, wanted to run away from it all. When Kerry went to get some coffee you wanted to beg him not to leave, but couldn't. When he came back you accepted the coffee with a grateful nod.

“I think we should talk,” You sighed softly, looking over to him. “I don't need another thing hanging over my head. So..just tell me why you left?”

Kerry looked down at his cup for a moment before looking back at you and giving you a nod.

“Alright  let's get this out there. I know that I wasn't perfect, far from it. I swear to you that I had no idea how you felt about me, if I had even suspected you saw me as something other than a friend then..”

He shook his head, laughing softly.

“I wouldn't have been such an idiot. I was crazy about you but I thought you saw me as more like a brother. So I thought I should just date anyone else, try and get over you. Then you and David started hanging out more and I really thought you weren't interested in me. So I just wanted anyone else as a distraction, I was so angry at David for stealing you even though you weren't mine to steal. I would hear you laughing in his room and it would kill me, I just wanted to know why you chose him over me.”

You took a sip of coffee, your heart aching in your chest. After a moment of silence you took a deep breath and looked over to Kerry.

“Why didn't you just come to me when you heard that stupid rumor that me and David were together again?”

Kerry looked up for a moment, letting out a sigh before looking back at you.

“Honestly? I didn't want to hear you confirm it. It would have killed me. I shouldn't have believed it, but I did. I thought you had realized I wasn't good enough for you and I just wanted to get away. So when the opportunity came up I took it.”

You wrapped your hands around your cup, letting out a soft sigh.

“And my best friend?”

Kerry shook his head, clearing his throat. 

“That wasn't anything. We fooled around a little at a party. I was just desperate to get the thought of you being with David out of my mind. She asked if she could come with me when I was leaving but we went our separate ways when we got there.”

You went to reply but stopped when a doctor walked towards you. You reached your hand out to touch Kerry's, hesitating for a moment before he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

As it turned out, your dad was indeed going to be fine. He had suffered a minor heart attack, and while he was to be kept overnight for observation, he would make a full recovery.

“Don't say I told you so.” You looked over to Kerry when the doctor left. 

“Never would,” Kerry held his hand over his heart. “I promise.”

You took a deep breath, looking up for a moment.

“I should go see him. I was so scared I wouldn't be able to.”

“Go on,” Kerry smiled softly. “I'll be here.”

You made your way to your dad's ward, finding his bed and letting out a shaky breath when you saw him. He was still with you, still breathing. You sat down beside the bed, touching his hand.

“Thought you were gonna leave me too,” You murmured softly, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. “I would have brought you back to life and killed you again for doing that to me. I should've known you'd pull through, you're too stubborn to go this soon, right? And you got a lot more to pack into this life. Asking Carla out, for one. You think she's going to be won over by the jokes? You need to woo her, she'd be good for you.”

You stood up, stepping closer to the bed.

“I'm gonna be right back here in the morning, okay? You're in safe hands. I love you so much.”

You leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead before pulling back with a smile and heading back to the waiting room. Kerry was still waiting for you, and you tried not to feel too pleased about it. 

“I think I'm gonna head home,” You sighed softly, sitting back down beside Kerry. “I'll come back in the morning, I don't really want to spend the night trying to sleep in one of these chairs.”

“Fair enough,” Kerry nodded. “I can call Kev, get him to give you a ride home.”

“Okay,” You nodded. “Thank you.”

“And by home I mean our home,” Kerry took your hand. “You think I'm gonna let you spend the night alone in your place then you got another thing coming.”

Any urge to protest faded away, you nodded and watched Kerry go to phone Kevin to pick you up. You let out a breath, looking up for a moment before smiling to yourself. 

As it turned out, it was exactly what you needed. Kevin came to pick you up, and very kindly agreed not to tell anyone about your dad. He brought you back to the Von Erich household and any fear you had about things being awkward melted away when Kerry and David seemed to be on perfectly normal terms with each other. 

The boys played football and you cheered them on, feeling a lightness settle over you. When Kerry and Mike won they grabbed you and lifted you up like a trophy, your laughter filling the air as the sun dipped lower in the sky. 

You ate dinner and helped Doris with the dishes and sat half on Kerry's lap when you all watched TV, his arm around your waist. You felt as if the last few years hadn't happened, you were back where you'd always felt happiest.

When the time came to go to bed, you insisted Mike didn't need to give up his bed for you, feeling guilty when he insisted he would. You wouldn't sleep anyway, knowing Kerry was in the bed across the room. You stared up at the ceiling for a while for a while before throwing the blanket off and getting up.

You padded across the room before you found yourself standing by Kerry's bed. He was awake too, looking up at the ceiling before he turned and his eyes met yours, the light of the moon making them seem even more blue.

“Can I get in?” You asked, smiling a little as Kerry immediately moved over and pulled the blanket back for you.

“Couldn't sleep either?”

“No,” You sighed softly, getting into the bed and laying down with your back to Kerry. He moved the blanket over you and kept his hand by your shoulder for a moment before pulling it back.

“Today was..a lot. Just feel like I need to come back down to earth.”

“I get you,” Kerry murmured softly. “Sometimes you just need something familiar.” 

“Well this certainly is,” You raised a brow, smiling as you felt Kerry's hand near your waist. You reached down and pulled his arm around you, relaxing into his touch.

“I can't remember how many nights I slept in this bed.”

“Enough to make us experts at keeping quiet,” Kerry laughed softly.

“I know,” You smiled with a groan. “Oh poor Mike..did he ever find out I was sneaking in here?”

“Nah,” Kerry murmured softly, wrapping his arm around you a little tighter. “Sometimes in the morning he'd ask if I got up in the night or he'd tell me I talk in my sleep. I never corrected him.”

“Well I'm glad we really could keep quiet then,” You murmured softly, turning over and meeting Kerry’s eyes.

“I never said but..thank you for being there with me today. I know I didn't say the nicest things to you, and I stand by them, but..I really appreciate what you did.”

Kerry smiled and gently stroked your waist, giving you a slight shrug.

“Don't mention it, honestly. You would have done the same for me, and..no matter what happened between us I still love you, I'll always love you.”

“I'll always love you too,” You smiled softly. “We both did stupid things, we both ended up right back here. I'm sure that means something but I don't want to think about it too much right now.”

“That's okay,” Kerry smiled, letting out a breath. “It's been a long day, why don't you get some sleep.”

“I will,” You murmured softly, glancing down for a moment and taking a deep breath. “But I need to do one thing first.”

You leaned in closer, closing your eyes as your lips pressed against Kerry's. For a moment you worried he wasn't going to kiss you back, but your heart soared when he did, his arm pulling you closer.

In the morning there would be a chat about the future, you would have to bring your dad home from the hospital, carry on with normal life.

But, the night was young enough to not worry about all that, and you planned to make the most of it.

[mesetacadre]

What should be done with royal palaces and the like after revolution? Obviously any extant monarchies will be abolished but I'm curious what you think should be done with the stuff they leave behind

Hi! In the vast majority of cases, as far as I'm aware, the palaces and castles of monarchs were turned into public places for cultural purposes, such as the Winter Palace becoming the Hermitage Museum, its first exposition was on the history of the October revolution, and the private rooms and such were open to the public so they could see the wealth the Tsars had accumulated. Throughout the Soviet era, the emblems of the Tsars and other objects were gradually removed and dispersed to museums throughout the country.

Unless there is a very pressing need to reuse the materials with which these properties are decorated and built, I don't see any reason to blow them up or demolish them or remove them in some way. Palaces specifically are places with a lot of room and usually well communicated, they are ideal for those cultural purposes as well as for the sake of not forgetting the absurd concentration of wealth monarchies accumulate.

In North Korea, for example, although this isn't specifically about the property of a monarchy, they opened the various resorts and villas for the recreational use by the Korean people:

Nonetheless the North Koreans have the right to feel proud of their achievements. In one respect they can claim to surpass their Chinese brothers – their well-equipped social insurance. The Japanese had more health resorts and summer villas in Korea than in China and the present Department of Labor has taken them over. The North Koreans have also a larger amount of publicly owned industry than the nearby Chinese, for Korea was highly industrialized by the Japanese.

In North Korea: First Eye-Witness Report, Anna Louise Strong, 1949

And I think this should be the attitude that has to be taken towards the more lavish properties of the old bourgeoisie/imperialists/monarchy, of putting that wealth in service of the workers whenever possible. Revolutions don't create a blank slate, we are forced to build upon what remains of what came before. And ultimately, it's the workers who should decide what to do with these vestiges of the past. If the workers of Leningrad preferred the Winter Palace to be a museum, who can criticize them? It's not like it brought the Romanovs back ;)

[maliciouslove]

𝔼𝕏𝕋ℝ𝔸ℂ𝕌ℝℝ𝕀ℂ𝕌𝕃𝔸ℝ 𝔸ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕍𝕀𝕋𝕀𝔼𝕊

NSFW—college AU, aged up characters (21+) || minors, ageless and/or empty blogs DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing // itadori yuuji x professor!reader 

summary // you’re having a particularly rough week and your student yuuji’s childish and nonchalant behaviour towards his failing grades and missing assignments is simply the last straw, forcing you to snap and teach the brat a lesson. for some extra credit, of course. :)

word count // 5.1k

tags // power imbalance, mean dom!reader, sub!yuuji, dubcon (tagging non-con just in case), forced masturbation (m!receiving), blackmail, recorded masturbation (m!receiving), cockwarming a dildo (m!receiving), little to no preparation penetration (m!receiving) sexual favours for extra credit, oral (f!receiving), dacryphilia, slight degradation, humiliation, praise, use of the title ‘professor’,  hair pulling, spit as lube, cum play, unprotected sex, creampie

AN // and the reposting continues! reading this again reminded me that i love writing submissive men. a very long time ago @/cyancherub beta read this for me, and I am still eternally grateful :) <3

You’ve been having a very shit week so far—your car broke down on Monday and the guys at the repair shop told you it’s going to be at least three days before it’s fixed, and the price they charged for their services also didn’t help with your mood. 

Furthermore, on Tuesday you found out your health insurance claim didn’t go through, adding yet another expense that you have to worry about. Your poor wallet can’t handle all the damage it’s taking. 

You would think you could’ve gotten some peace and quiet when you got home on Wednesday, but no—you walked into your apartment only to find your new couch and all the pillows completely destroyed by your dog. Pillow filling and pieces of cloth scattered all across the living room as your dog was now laying in his bed, looking up at you innocently, as if he didn’t just destroy an extremely expensive couch. 

Thursday was no breeze either, as you started your day by spilling a venti sized caramel macchiato all over your white dress shirt. Walking into your meeting with the dean of the school covered in coffee was embarrassing enough, but when he started chewing you out for the low grade point average in your class, you were just about ready to cry. 

But you clenched your fists and bit your tongue, refusing to show weakness to anyone. It was just a bad week, it too would pass. 

There is only one day of the week left, and after that, you can indulge yourself over the weekend and take time to relax and de-stress. Only Friday left… but boy, you’re not looking forward to this Friday. Why?

Because you have to teach a class with him—Itadori Yuuji, your most annoying student. Yuuji is by no means unintelligent or incapable, no—but he is, however, an asshole. A petulant child that firmly believes he can get away with anything simply because he is handsome and charming. He is the type of guy to enter the classroom 20 minutes late and simply smile and wink at you; no apology, no explanation. Just a cocky 24-karat smile. He talks loud, voices all of his opinions, and doesn’t really care about anyone or anything. 

Now apparently he has decided to stop handing in his assignments, which in turn creates another problem for you. You could, of course, choose to ignore him and simply let him flunk, but that would mean two things: first, he would have to repeat the class, meaning you would have to see more of him, and second, it would give the dean one more reason to be angry with you and punish you for “bringing down the grade average of the entire institution”. 

So this Friday you’re planning on pulling him aside after class and having a serious discussion with him about his grades and work ethic. You have been lenient enough with him over the past few months, choosing to ignore his attitude and simply focus your attention on the students who actually wanted to be there, but that has to come to an end. What you’re less willing to admit to yourself, is that you’re very anxious about the conversation you’ll have with him. What will you say? What if he mocks you? What if he keeps that irritating everything-is-a-joke attitude? But the scariest thought of all: What if I finally snap? Maybe I should teach that little brat a lesson. 

So here you are, laying in your bed awake way past your bedtime, anxiously pondering over the events that might unfold tomorrow. It’s going to be a long day. 

2:37 PM

The days are surely growing shorter and colder. Grey clouds are hanging heavy over your head, ready to rain down on you any moment now. There are 23 minutes left until class begins, so you grab a quick cup of coffee to go and you head on over to the classroom, mulling over what to say to Yuuji, practising different scenarios in your head. For some reason, the majority of these scenarios end up with Yuuji tied up and sobbing, spanked raw and begging for forgiveness. You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. Trying to shake away the urge to break the strawberry-haired man. He would look so cute crying though. 

By the time class starts at 3:00 PM you’re halfway through your coffee, slightly starting to regret having more than two cups that day because it’s making you antsy. You take a final sip and greet your students, making a mental note of the fact that for once Yuuji is on time. The lesson goes smoothly, but you can’t help noticing that Yuuji never seems to be paying attention; never really even looking towards the big screen behind you where important slides containing assignment details were shown. Almost like he’s avoiding looking at you. 

Finally, class is over, the room filling with the sounds of chairs being pulled and students chatting amongst each other. You call Yuuji over, secretly glad that none of the other students are paying attention and simply rolling out of the classroom one by one. Itadori slings his backpack over his shoulder and saunters over to your desk, hands in his pockets, a certain pep in his step. 

“Whaddup, Y/N?” he grins, not a care in the world.

“It’s miss L/N to you. And I need to speak with you about your last assignment, the one you never handed in.” You don’t even look up from the pile of papers on your desk that you were busying yourself with in an attempt to remain composed. 

“Oh yeaaah, there was an assignment, wasn’t there? Oops.” His stupid smile never falters. The irritation is bubbling in your chest and it tastes bitter in your mouth; the papers in your hands crinkle under the force of your fingers. 

“Yup, there was, and it was worth 40% of your final grade. That means you are facing the possibility of failing this class, Mr. Itadori.” Your voice is cold and calculated, all traces of irritation erased—you’re all business. You are his teacher, you need to keep things professional, no room for emotions, especially emotions that will not improve the situation in any way, such as anger. 

You finally look up at the strawberry-haired boy, only to find him staring, but not at you. His brown eyes were fixated on the collar of your tight shirt, the top two buttons undone, showing off your soft skin and collarbones. The shirt itself doesn’t reveal a lot, but it’s tight, the outline of your bra quite visible up close. He swallows and looks away quickly, but not fast enough for you to not notice his quite obvious interest. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Itadori, are my breasts more interesting to you right now?” You arch an eyebrow, the irritation that was growing inside of you finally reaching your voice too. The audacity this brat has.  

“I- no... I- m’sorry” he stutters. Yuuji Itadori, Mr. Charming and Almighty, was flustered. How interesting. The scenarios your mind conjured earlier are suddenly flooding your brain again and you can’t help but wonder… could you make him even more flustered? 

“Listen here Yuuji, this is basically sexual harassment, you know. I’m trying to help you here, have a serious conversation about your situation, yet all you can do is stare at my tits. Now, what do you think I should do about this, hm?” 

He opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, to argue, to come up with some witty comeback—yet no sound comes out. After a long, uncomfortable pause he finally mumbles a barely audible m’sorry, fixating his gaze on the floor. Some sick, twisted part of you finds this adorable. The corners of your lips curve upwards just barely. 

“What exactly are you sorry for, Yuuji?” There is a teasing lilt to your voice, the use of his first name completely throwing him off guard. He looks at you with big eyes, once again unable to form a response.

“For, uh- … for always staring at you inappropriately.. a-and fantasizing.” He gulps loudly, mouth suddenly feeling all too dry. His little confession is a surprise to you, but you don’t let it show. You maintain a neutral face, studying him closely. You can see him get even more nervous under your gaze. 

“Always?” you pause, eyebrow raised quizzically. “Fantasizing?” tilting your head slightly to the side, your eyes never leave his. Your presence only grows, asserting its dominance over his. The boy that usually towers over you and always has a carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude, suddenly looks very small to you. A blush is creeping up his neck and cheeks, proof that he really is feeling flustered. 

“Huh.. so you fantasize about your teacher?” you smirk, several sinister ideas flooding your brain as you look at the boy in front of you shrink even more. “You can get in a lot of trouble for this… Mr. Itadori.” Gracefully you get out of your chair, moving to sit at the end of your desk, shortening the distance between you and your student. “If word got out, administration would have to remove you from my class—you would lose all credits you’ve obtained thus far in my class and you would have to pick a different course in order to obtain those credits again.” Your eyes travel up his body, slowly, undressing him in your mind. “That would be a lot of work, Mr. Itadori. Don’t you think?”

Not trusting his ability to speak right now, he simply nods. There is apprehension in his eyes, but also curiosity.  

“Perhaps we can work this out? Resolve our… conflict, as to avoid getting administration involved.” 

You hear the gears turning in his head, mulling over all the possibilities, mind racing and his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “Resolve… how?” 

You can barely contain yourself at how small his voice is, how unsure. The boy that usually gleamed with confidence and strides down the corridors as if he owns them is suddenly unable to look you straight in the eye. 

“Well, Mr. Itadori, I am a teacher after all. I think it would be best if I teach you a lesson about how it feels to be objectified. To be seen as nothing more than a pretty face, or hot body.” Your hand darts forward, now toying with the hem of his shirt. Yuuji is holding his breath as if the tiniest movement could drive you away. “Relax, Mr. Itadori, it’s just a lesson. You will benefit from it. Just do as I tell you and this little incident will be forgotten.” You pull him in by the collar of his t-shirt, his face now inches away from yours. A coy smile plays on your lips as you practically feast over the expression painted on his face at this moment. Surprise, desire and fear mixed all together, making his coffee-coloured eyes water slightly. But a breathy okay leaves his lips, eyes transfixed on yours as you push him backwards to sit in a chair. 

“Clothes off. Don’t talk unless I ask you a question. Understand?” 

Yuuji mutters a quick “yes,” fingers already hooking under his sweats, pulling them down as you lock the door to your classroom and make sure there is no way to peek inside the room. Lucky for you, most classes also end early on Friday, so the building is surely almost completely empty by now. 

Yuuji’s heart rate picks up with each clank of your heels against the wooden parquet as you head on over back to the desk, once again sitting on its edge, arms crossed over your chest. Here he is, strawberry hair dishevelled, chest exposed and if you look closely enough, you can see the vibrations on his skin as his heart hammers wildly against his ribcage. All he has left on were his over-the-calf white Nike socks and his banana print boxers. The outline of his dick making your mouth water, already semi-hard even though nothing has really happened so far. 

“Show me what you do when you fantasize about me. Tell me what you think about. I want to know how exactly you objectify me… how often.” Your voice is quiet but commanding, distant yet curious. It takes him a moment to gather the courage to go through with what you ask of him, but he finally palms himself over his boxers, not daring to look at you, but opening his mouth to speak. 

“I- I often imagine what you look like under your clothes. What kind of l-lingerie you wear...” his voice falters at the end, the blush creeping up his face betraying him. But quite visibly, blood isn’t rushing only to his face. His eyes are shut and eyebrows pinched together, but he keeps on talking, just like you asked him to. “I think about you masturbating… Like I do almost every night. I-I think about eating you out and I imagine how you taste, what you look like.” He is gripping his now fully erect cock under the cloth of his boxers, and the whole view is just so delicious. His little confessions go straight to your clit, desire taking you over. You take your phone out and quickly open your camera, switching to video and turning it on.

“Go on, don’t hold back.” 

He keeps his eyes shut, but his hand movements get braver. In an instant, his big calloused hand dives under his boxers to pull out his heavy cock, the elastic band of his underwear resting under his balls. He’s already leaking, a pearly bead of precum sliding down his shaft, right next to a big juicy vein. You zoom in with your camera, making sure to catch all the details. 

“I imagine how tight you’d feel when you cream around my cock.” At these words he squeezes his length harder, a tiny whimper escaping his lips and it makes your heart twist and your insides burn. You just know the stretch of his cock will be delicious. You know he’d feel so good. The thought alone has you clenching around nothing and you slide a hand under your skirt, fingers pressing over your clit as a shudder travels your spine. 

“Yeah? You wanna do all those things to me, Mr. Itadori? You want to see me naked, taste me, feel me? Tell me how much you want it.” You’re focusing the camera on his face now, capturing his face contorting in pleasure and need. Hand stroking his dick faster now, smearing the pre all across his length. He doesn’t really need to say how much he wants that as it becomes evident from the vigour in his strokes, but you want to hear him anyway. “Tell me, use your words, baby boy.” The nickname sets him off, all the moans he’d been staving off finally surfacing. 

“S’much… it’s all I can think about. Every time I come to class my mind… w-wanders, mmgh.” His chest is heaving, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he fucks his fist wishing it was you, eyes still tightly shut. “Even now… I really am imagining that you’re jacking me off… it’s so fucking h-hot.” 

It would be a lie to say that your hands weren’t itching to touch him, to make him writhe and squirm and beg. But that would have to wait. Right now, you just want to see him cum. 

“Mmm, and how do these little daydreams of yours end, hm? Wanna show me?” It takes Yuuji only a few more strokes before his orgasm washes over him, abdomen muscles tightening, hot thick cum spurting over his chest and tummy, some even landing on his chin. His breathing is erratic and his heart feels like it's trying to break a hole through his ribcage. Finally, he cracks an eye open, gaze immediately landing on the phone in your hands. 

Stopping the video and tossing the phone aside, you stride over to him and card your fingers through his hair, slightly pulling his head back to look him in the eyes. Amongst all the emotions he’s feeling, fear is the most prominent right now. His eyes are watering again, and you quiver at the sight. 

“Call it an eye for an eye. One video for me to keep in exchange for all the times you’ve stared at me, imagining how good I would actually feel. If you behave, the video stays in my possession only. So be good f’me Yuuji, yea? Can you do that?” 

He nods his head quickly, too quickly for his own liking, but he dares not to disobey. His submission pleases you so you ease your grip on his hair, deft fingers sliding down the side of his face and tracing his sharp jawline. 

"You know Mr. Itadori, we’re not quite done here yet. I still need to discuss the possibility of you failing my class. I was thinking of assigning you some extra credit work to make up for the assignment you didn’t hand in… if you’d like to stay in my class-" 

He cuts you off. “P-Please… I want to do the extra credit work. Please, I-I’ll do good, I’ll make up for my bad grades, ‘promise.” The puppy eyes he gives will simply be the death of you. You smile and rub soft circles with your thumb on his cheek. 

Straightening up,  you walk away from him heading towards your desk, fingers running through the wooden surface and landing on your briefcase. "I really, really dislike brats, you know. And I absolutely will not tolerate more mistakes like this from you, Mr. Itadori. No more attitude. No more slacking off."

There’s an edge to your voice, a coldness emanating from it, and it sends shivers down his spine. Unconsciously he swallows, tongue darting out to swipe at his bottom lip. Even for him, it’s hard to tell if he’s scared or aroused. Or maybe both. But what he is sure of is that you’re commanding all of his attention right now. He would do anything for your approval.

“To ensure you actually complete the assignment and don’t flunk out of my class, I will be monitoring your work. And you will do it right here, where I can see you.” The briefcase is now open, your hands rummaging in it, fingers wrapping around the object you’re looking for. “You’re going to use some tools to further… motivate you.” Your grin is wicked as you pull out a pink silicone dildo from your briefcase. Smiling at your student, your tongue presses itself flat against the dildo, licking a slow stripe from shaft to tip.

"You said you’ll be good, right? Promised you’ll do the extra credit… Still feeling up for the task?" You're now walking back to him and his eyes grow wider with fear. He's never done this before. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat as you sit down on his lap but to no avail. His mind is going completely blank, but his dick is acting on its own accord, becoming hard again pressed up against your ass.

“I want to do the extra credit, professor. Please?” The words are almost a whisper, the sound of his heart drowning out the sound. You chuckle and present the dildo to his lips in a silent command which he obeys, wrapping his lips around the tip of the dildo. 

"Ah, so you can obey orders, well that's a relief. Because I have a tall order coming for you." You shove the dildo all the way down his throat, tears immediately pooling in his eyes, the only noise coming from him being muffled moans and gagging. "So listen up, brat—you're going to take this dildo like a big boy and cockwarm it for me as you write your assignment right here, right now. Where I can see you." 

He can’t verbally give you an answer with the dildo shoved down his throat, so he nods, trying to hold off his gag-reflex, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

You don’t even think about it as you lean closer, tongue darting out to collect the stray tear, the salty taste of it making you hum in delight. You remove the dildo from his mouth, a clear string of saliva connecting his lips and the pink tip of the dildo, which you simply hand to him. It’s his extra credit work after all, he should do all the work himself if he wants a good grade. 

This time you drag your chair from behind your desk and position it across Yuuji’s, giving you a perfect view of the show he’s about to put on for you. With shaky hands he positions the dildo on the chair, making sure the suction cup at the bottom is well attached. You could see him think through every move he makes, taking his laptop out, positioning everything so that he could attempt to write while he cockwarms the dildo. 

The strawberry-colour haired man takes a final unsure look at you as if seeking confirmation, but even he can’t deny the excitement he feels deep down. The primal need to please you, show you he can be a good boy too, for you and you only. Lifting one leg over his desk, he gives you a perfect view of his round ass, puckered hole already clenching in anticipation. Two of his long fingers push past his lips, tongue sloppily covering them in saliva that he plans on using as lube. Those same fingers, now covered in a layer of spit, rub soft circles over his puckered hole, lightly teasing and prodding while he gets used to the sensation. 

One finger finally pushes past his ring muscle, a wanton moan escaping his pretty lips. The sound is heavenly and you just want to hear more. To see more. Slightly parting your legs, you let your right hand travel up your thigh and toy with the hem of your lacy panties, enjoying Yuuji’s reaction. The little display you’re making for him is really fuelling him further. Not even a minute later, he’s sinking a second finger in his greedy hole, sounding more and more desperate, each moan and whimper a treasure for you. 

Spitting on the dildo again, this time nasty and unabashed, mind hazy from lust, Yuuji finally positions himself over the pink dildo, the tip resting right over his hole. One more glance in your direction and he sinks down an inch, the tip pushing past his muscle, the stretch immediately filling his eyes with more tears. But he ignores the weird feeling, ignores the pain, and simply focuses on the pleasure. The more he sinks down on the dildo, the more you toy with your pussy, panties now pushed aside to give him a better view. Fingers sliding up and down the slit, collecting your essence and smearing it all over, gentle circles with your middle finger over your clit. 

Halfway down the dildo, Yuuji opts to slide back up, and then down again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth hanging open in pleasure. He was not expecting it to feel this good, the fullness making him slightly dizzy. One hand gently strokes over his sensitive cock, the feeling making him shiver. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” In response to his puzzled look you simply nod over to his laptop, reminding him that he is supposed to be writing an assignment. “Just write an essay on any topic that we’ve covered in class… or did you not retain anything from our classes because you were too busy being a pervert?” At these words, you slide two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, pumping them in and out slowly. 

After staring dumbfoundedly for a few seconds, his shaky fingers pull the laptop closer and he begins to type. It’s adorable to watch him struggle to remain concentrated on the task at hand, with the dildo filling him up perfectly and with the sounds you’re making as you fuck yourself on your fingers… poor Yuuji can barely keep it together. Even though he’s sunk all the way down on the dildo and knows he’s supposed to stay still, he can’t help the little thrusts of his hips against the silicone cock. 

Around 10 minutes has passed since Yuuji started his attempt at writing an essay, but it’s becoming more and more difficult for him to focus, not with the tip of the dildo pressing up against his prostate, making his thighs quiver and his breath hitch. He needs relief; he can’t write like this. And you know this all too well, your own desire taking over you completely, temporarily forgetting how you got in this situation in the first place. Screw it.

“P-please, professor.. I need..” 

Before he can finish his sentence you’re already on his lap, lips pressed to his in a heated, sloppy kiss. You can’t hold it in anymore; you want to feel him. His lips feel soft against yours, but his tongue feels sinister as it dances against yours. Moving his laptop to the side, you sit on top of the desk and spread your legs for Yuuji, pussy glistening with your slick and on full display for the boy. 

“An orgasm or two might put you in my good graces?” you suggest and spread your pussy lips with two fingers, watching as Yuuji practically drools over the sight. He doesn’t need to be asked twice, still impaled on the dildo he bends forward, tongue darting out to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. The taste of you drives him feral, lips latching onto your clit and sucking hard, mouth hard at work to coax more moans out of you. To taste more of you. To him, you’re truly intoxicating. As his tongue works feverishly against your folds, constant praise falls from your lips. That’s my good boy, fuck yes, right t-there. 

“Move your hips, ride that cock baby boy.” You’re so close to your own release, it’s suffocating you. A few more flicks of his tongue over your sensitive bud and you’re coming undone under him, legs shaking violently as your mind floods with overwhelming pleasure and your pussy flutters. Yuuji’s greedy mouth is ready to swallow all your slick, hungrily lapping at your cunt, the obscene squelch of his tongue against your wetness filling the room. 

Pushing him away just enough to sit back in his lap, your hands wrap around his length, pumping it languidly. His hips slow down but he doesn’t dare stop moving up and down the dildo, he doesn’t dare disobey you. Catching his lips in another kiss you guide his cock to your slit, rubbing it up and down, collecting all your arousal. Slowly you sink down on his cock, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his fat meaty cock stretching you out, your tight hole hugging him perfectly. 

And Yuuji could cum from this alone, from finally feeling your warmth and wetness around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth. You feel so much better than he could ever imagine. With you hovering over his lap enough to give him space to bounce up and down, impaling himself on the silicone cock, and simultaneously drilling upwards into your welcoming heat. The feeling is so overwhelming; his movements are sloppy, and he’s constantly babbling incoherent words, hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. And as you look down at him all you can think about is how gorgeous he looks all fucked out.

Your hand snakes down your body, middle finger expertly rubbing tight circles over your clit, pussy immediately clamping down even harder on his dick. A second orgasm was approaching and Yuuji can feel that, the way your walls flutter around him, how much louder you’re getting. All he has to do is hold off his orgasm for a while more. He angles his hips and pistons up into your cavern, the tip of his leaky cock ramming against your cervix in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Right there is all you can repeat, teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, a few good strokes being the last push you need before you stumble over and drown in the pleasure once more. Yuuji follows right after, sinking all the way down on the dildo and pushing you down his length to completely bottom out inside you as he empties his balls, thick cum spurting right against your cervix. You can feel how full of cum you are, the thick sticky substance dribbling down your thigh. 

After a few moments of silence, the two of you just staying close and trying to catch your breath, you finally speak. 

“You know, you will actually have to write at least one essay for me for that extra credit, consider this just your… motivation to actually get it done. At the end of the day, I’d rather you not fail, Yuuji.” 

You did it again, you used his first name. The softness to your voice makes his heart twist, and he knows he has to live up to the promise he made. 

“And this stays between us.” 

You didn’t really need to tell him that, he knows how badly things could turn out if anyone found out, but he gives you his word. He doesn’t dare say anything else out of fear that anything he says might ruin the magic. One wrong move could sully this moment forever, and this is a memory he’ll cherish for a long time. So he tucks his flaccid cock in his boxers and puts on his clothes, gathering his things and heading for the door. He pauses for a second and turns around for one last look. 

“Miss L/N.. uhm, thank you for giving me an opportunity for that extra credit. And uh, I don’t mean the sex. The actual extra credit. I know I can be difficult, so I appreciate this a lot.” 

You smile and wave him off, telling him there’s nothing to be thankful for. You remind him to hand in his essay before the following Friday and you say your goodbyes. 

There’s a slight empty feeling budding inside you, missing the attention of the younger boy, but ultimately you realize you had completely forgotten about the stress of the week; and there was an undeniable pep in Yuuji’s step as he made his way home that night... Today was truly a good day, for both of you. 

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[sovereignjojoz]

Bucci gang beach day

Pairings: Bucci gang x reader

Warnings: NOTHINNNN BUT FUN

Summary: Bucci gang and reader go to the beach!

Notes-let’s go to the beach beach let’s go get away!

First of all, it would be very negligent of me to mention this excursion only happened due to Narancia’s insessant begging.

For at least three months straight, all Bruno would hear is “c’mon Bucciarati! Please, please can we go to the beach! ‘S not like anything bad’s gonna happen plus we all could use a vacation!”

He got on his knees and palmed at Bruno’s trouser legs, he even went as far as to start doing extra tasks around the house so he could appease Bruno.

Once Mista got wind of there being a potential beach day, chaos insures.

Bruno gets pestered thrice as much than he did before, when it seemed as though Bruno would say no the two teenagers visibly deflated, it was almost as though you could see sad droopy puppy dog ears on their heads.

Their capo thinks long and hard on the matter, tongue in cheek, before sighs, he finally relenting over dinner saying, “all right, just this once we’ll go to the beach, I suppose we relax a little for the time being.”

Mista’s plate and cutlery jolt as Narancia jumps up, hands flat on the dining table, looking at Bruno with astonishment.

“Seriously!” He yells excitedly, holding Bruno’s gaze and when the latter man nods he kicks his chair outta the way, walking towards Mista. “Heck yeah!”

In all of their teenage-esque the two friends enthusiastically dap each other up, meanwhile, unexpectedly, Trish smiles in excitement; attempting to cover it up behind her hand. Giorno looks on in intrigue as does Fugo, whilst Abbacchio acknowledges the statement but chooses to remain uninterested.

“Bruno?” Trish hesitates, clearing her throat. The sapphire eyed male averted his attention to the pinkette, curious as to what she wanted to add. He hummed probing her to continue; “is it alright if I invite [name].”

“Please do.” Mista added as Trish side eyed him, although he couldn’t help if he was just so excited at the prospect of seeing you.

Bruno chuckled, “Well, I don’t see why not. Would you all be alright with that?” He looked at his team expectantly awaiting their answers.

“Do what you want, I’m not coming.” Abbacchio commented nonchalantly, although he wasn’t appalled at the prospect of seeing you again.

Bruno looked at the others in the room to see if there was any verbal objections and when he was met with none it was decided you’d come.

So after Trish invited you, it was unsurprising you’d gotten a text from Mista inviting you somewhere.

Guido Mista

“Mista” lemme take you out swimwear shopping (major wink).

He just wanted an excuse to spend one on one time with you although helping you choose out swimwear is a bonus.

When you try on your favourite piece in the changing room and show him, his jaw honestly drops.

“Do you think this one looks nice?” You asked him, looking at him through your lashes. He grinned, “course babe, let me buy it for you, yeah?”

Eyeroll, cue you fanning Mista away with your hands as the pair of you walk over to the cash register to pay.

The sale assistant makes a little comment on “what a cute couple the both of you are,” and “how nice your boyfriend is for doing this.” You were about to refute the claim but Mista answered first saying “thank you.” Before pulling you by your hand out of the shop.

When you and all of the others finally arrive at the beach, Mista was a hog.

He literally picked you up the second you stepped out of the car and carried you all the way to the salty sea water, chucking you in with a dramatic splash!

You groaned, frowning at him laughing, so in your opinion it was very justified when you swam underwater and pulled him too, making you giggle when he slipped on his butt.

Chaos ensured and a water fight broke out between the both of you, you screamed running away cackling as he tried (and succeeded) in grabbing and splashing you.

You hung out with Mista for a little while until you got tried leading you to go to the sand again…

Narancia Ghirga

As soon as you stepped foot on land, you were pulled aside by Narancia, who dragged you to a sandy spot just slightly away from the others on land.

“C’mon let’s make a sand castle,” he told you, positively beaming, “okay!!”

You gathered sand in your hands, moulding it into a cylindrical shape as Narancia carved intricate designs on the one that already stood.

After a couple minutes the pair of you had made a moderately sized, but beautiful (at least to you) sandcastle, which gave Narancia the idea to have a sandcastle building competition.

You instantly agreed clapping your hands, running to get some sea water to build a moat for your castle.

You’d been working on building your castle for ten minutes, narancia had just finished his and you were just about to finish too until a horrific incident took place!

Narancia sabotaged you and stepped on your castle!

You were absolutely gobsmacked, mouth parted in surprise as his castle stood tall and proud.

So you reacted (retaliated) as any normal person would, by destroying his!

This led to a minor sand fight (bad idea).

But quickly realising this, you called a truce and opted to give Narancia a mermaid tail in the sand.

Or at least that’s what he thought, and before he knew it he found himself up to his neck buried in sand. You stuck your tongue out at him, pinching his cheeks and went away to find Fugo, that’s what he deserved for ruining your castle!

Pannacotta Fugo

“Hey Fugo, I wanna decorate the castle I made with Narancia, wanna help me look for sea shells?” You asked him, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

“Why not go with Narancia?”

You shrugged your shoulders, giving him a knowing smile.

Abruptly, you stopped and started digging in the sand, enthusiastically blabbering away to Fugo when you found a gorgeous cerulean shell.

He smiled at you, patting your head, then bent down next to you and started looking for some shells too.

A vibrant pile of pale colours began to build up next you.

Fugo was just about to quit when he saw a peculiar shell, his eyes widened, perhaps it was a pearl shell, that seemed like something you would like.

He reached down and grabbed it, trying to open up the shell only to be sharply nipped on his finger.

He yelped, throwing the shell halfway across the beach!

Having seen the whole scene you stifled your giggles.

“Are you okay?” You asked him laughing.

He glared at you, “yes. I’m fine.” He snapped due to his pain.

Unexpected to him, you picked up his hurt finger and lightly kissed it. “There all better.” You beamed at him.

A light pink blush splayed across his cheeks, “thank you.”

“We’ll continue later, I’m a bit tired I’m going to go and rest for a bit.”

Leone Abbacchio

Firstly, Abbacchio didn’t even know how he ended up at the beach, after he had outright said he wouldn’t be coming.

Honestly he’s not really a fan of the beach, actually he hates it.

Outright refuses to go in the water, he’s not getting his hair wet or any disgustingly salty water in his mouth.

He opts to sit on a beach towel under an umbrella, reading and sipping on a fruity drink.

So when you trail up to him and plop down next to him, he hopes your disturbance won’t be too major.

“What do you want?” He asked, eyes still on his book.

“Nothing,” you stretched your legs and wiggled your toes. “I’m just tired.”

He hummed, uninterested.

You yawned and decided to test his limits, resting your head on his legs.

“[name].” He warned curtly.

You waved your hand sleepily, “m just resting my head, promise.”

You were not. In fact, one minute later you fell asleep.

Leone groaned, slamming his book shut. He looked at your peaceful sleeping face, he stroked your face and shifted you into a more comfortable position.

Abbacchio doesn’t know why, must have been the pesky goodwill of his heart, but he put sunscreen on your face too as it got hotter in the day.

You shifted in your sleep, snuggling closer to him.

He wanted to roll his eyes but his body betrayed him and he smiled.

Not long after, he found himself overcome with sleep, and when he woke up he found you gone, frolicking away with Bruno.

Bruno Buccarrati

“Hello [name],” Bruno greeted, “are you hungry? I know you’ve been busy enjoying the day.”

“Sup Bruno, not yet, I’m actually kind of hot.” You responded, “and I kinda wanna test out the snorkels, do you want to take a dip with me?”

He shrugged off his shirt, showing off his muscular, chiselled form. “Sure, let’s go.” He told you, leading you towards the sea by the small of your back.

You held up a pale pink float, decorated with sprinkles, “Ooh, let’s drift away in this doughnut float!”

He sat in the doughnut float first, pulling a snorkel over his head so it rested on his forehead. “Alright bellisima.”

Cue you squealing excitedly, dropping yourself onto his lap as the float started digging away.

One of his hands rested on your waist as the other skimmed against the water, similarly to your toes.

“Are you alright?”

“Uh huh! Let’s hop in, I’m sure we’ll see some cool fish!”

You marvelled at the aquatic animals, turning to look at Bruno, enthused.

Finally after around an hour, he extended his hand out to you and pushed you on the float to the shore once more.

After all that you honestly felt rather famished.

Trish Una

“Trishie, wanna eat?”

Trish cringed at the use of that ghastly nickname, you’re honestly extremely lucky the pair of you had been friends for a while because if you were anyone else she would have cut you off.

She pulled up her designer shades to look at you in the eye, “fine.”

“Great!” You ran over to the picnic basket Bruno had packed and grabbed a few snacks and sandwiches.

She extended a manicured hand, picking up a carrot stick.

Her eyes darted towards you when you exclaimed in delight, “oh my gosh, this is so delicious, here Trish take a bite!” You extended your hand out towards her, putting your food in front of her.

Tentatively and skeptically, she took a bite. “Mmm.” She agreed licking her lips.

“I know right?” You took another bite, “we should bake our own snacks and have another picnic sometime soon.” You told her.

“Yeah.” She looked up at the setting sun, “sounds nice.”

You squeezed her hand happily, “Alright, then it’s arranged!”

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno wasn’t really bothered about coming to the beach, although he also didn’t not want to come.

For most of the day he’s been enjoying and ice cream and doing some light tanning until you’d come up to him and asked if he wanted to make bracelets with you.

He nodded and sat down next to you, his knee touching yours.

You instructed him to make you a bracelet and you’d make him one.

He opted for a green and blue colour palette, resembling that of the sea, whilst you made him a red and white one contrasting greatly with his.

Then he made a silly joke about how yours is the exact opposite to his and how “opposites attract.” Causing you to roll your eyes and omit the shell heart charm from his bracelet.

This caused the blonde to tease you (Brando genes popping out) and say how you had his heart (charm) so why can’t he have yours?

You groaned, relenting and tied it on his wrist, he laughed to himself as you walked away from him.

[rookfeatherrambles]

Hey Tumblr, its been a hell of a few days for me. For those that don't know, on Sunday (June 2nd), I was in a car accident that really traumatized me, and I don't know if its going to affect me for another week or another 10 years. Details under the cut, as well as pictures of my injuries (no blood but bruises and scrapes, will be tagged appropriately).

My friend came up from Washington state to see me and wanted me to meet her at the hotel she was staying at. No problem. I'd just take an uber, from where I was located it would be an under 10$ trip. The uber gets there, I introduce myself, I place my purse into the car, and as I'm getting in, my earbud falls out and bounces off into who knows where. So I pause, one foot in the vehicle, one foot out, as I'm sort of stooping to look for this missing earbud. (It was important to me, more on that later). The back seat door is still wide open, but then, the driver decides to start driving. My foot is dragged back and twisted, and the rest of my body follows, and I'm screaming as I hit the ground and feel the wheel going over my leg. I think my first thought was that it had been ripped from my body. I was dragged a few feet down the street while passengers screamed to the driver to stop the car, and I don't think I've ever felt that kind of pain before. My throat is raw from screaming and crying. The car stops, people come and the driver tries to control the situation. All I ask through my sobs is 'is my leg still there?' and yes, miraculously, it is still there. I'm offered hands, but I lift myself up under my own power, extremely in shock. I'm not bleeding. Just scraped to hell with a tire track on my skin like a brand and terrified. Other parts of me also were scraped up, but I didn't notice until later. People are talking to me, all I want to do is be with my friend, so I look the driver in the face and tell him to take me to my destination, where I meet up with my friend. I am in shock all night. The driver asked me if I was okay, and upon me saying yeah, fine (I was not fine) he tells me he's not going to report this to Uber because its just a few scrapes. Anyway, I visit with my friend, and under guidence of my great roommate, I go to a walk in clinic and wait for nigh on 4 hours to get my injuries documented and get checked out. The verdict? Whiplash, no broken bones. I ache like I'm 90 but that's to be expected. I'm off work for a week, I'm given a 200$ physiotherapy prescription, but unless I want to pay out of pocket, I need to contact uber and start an insurance claim. I do that. They tell me they're going to put me in touch with an insurer. I don't believe them. I get a consultation with a personal injury lawyer set up for this friday, and now we come to here and now. I need headphones to cope with sensory hell outside of my apartment, and they were not on me when I left, so they're long gone. 180$ earbuds. Truthfully, I have this gut feeling that Uber is going to do their best to discredit me and what happened, just like that driver. I can't get into a car now without remembering that agony of my leg being crushed under the wheel, and when I'm in any vehicle now, I'm plagued by panic and horrid images of gruesome demise. I genuinely think I might have PTSD, though I'll be looking into a formal diagnosis when i can get to it. When I can AFFORD it. I hate to do this so soon after asking about my back, but I'm out of work for I don't know how long now, I don't know how many physio appointments or THERAPY appointments i will need to get over this. I need to recoup my headphones, I need to get groceries delivered now (which is really pricy), I need to keep myself afloat until Uber decides to (or decides not to) make amends. I don't even know if they fired the driver. I just want to feel safe and I just want something done. Anyway, if you can donate, please do. I know I'm just the silly AU person (one of many) but I have to ask. I have no other choice. I'm just sorry I don't have anything to give in return. Paypal.me/xcannibal Proof of injuries below.

[hearvex]

can i ask for this Juan guy lore :v i saw his tweet when it had like 3k and thought it cant be good but i dont know anything about him. its upsetting to see 12k likes tho like why are people fighting against human fights tho

oh this is a long one, who's Juan Guarnizo, the streamer who has recently tweeted against the french union in regards of the qsmp.

juan guarnizo is a colombian streamer (who now lives in mexico with his wife). he's participated in Tortillaland, a roleplaying minecraft series, as a wizard of sorts. He then decided to create a "spin-off" series (more cinematic/pre-planned) called "El Dios de Todo" (The God of Everything, his character's catchphrase). So he partnered with Euphonia, a popular Minecraft Studio that has created games such as SquidCraft, Dedsafio, SawMinecraftGames, and more.

He announced he was looking for several roleplayers for this project, and people started complaining on twitter because some of the requirements were pretty much insane.

Some include, full availability for 6 hours a day everyday for an entire month, good quality microphone, not being able to livestream the content, just record it to be used after the proyect was released, knowing how to rhyme/rap/sing/imitate voices and animals/general voice acting talent and being able to improv. All of that for the price of 0$. The payment? The enriching experience of being part of this unpayed proyect with your favorite content creator.

Well turns out people still didn't like this idea, justifiably so, and continued to call him out on twitter. His initial response was as follows:

(Hello, I understand that you know little about the project so I'll explain it to you: The God of Everything is a series based on a story that we will tell in the most cinematic way possible, therefore it is only possible to have one pov and not 40. Participants will be able to take advantage of the series on different social media platforms but not live. How much benefit they decide to get out of it is up to each person. The 6 hours a day thing is insurance, because there will most likely be days where your participation is half an hour and that's it. Also making it clear that professionals such as voice actors who will also be in the series will be paid for their work. We are creating an experience never seen before for me, the roleplayers and the audience, whoever wants and can experience it will enjoy it very much. It is something that we are putting all our heart and desire into for those who want to see the story. Communities that are not going to see it at all, at least don't fill it with your toxicity or bad vibes.)

Basically excusing himself by "I'm doing good by allowing you to join, please don't let toxicity ruin this". Which was still off, because professional voice actors would be getting payed but somehow the rest wouldn't, weird overall. Several POVs would be recorded but only one would be able to broadcast it, Juan. "we'll pay you with exposure" ahh deal

I haven't followed him since this happened, some claim he then did pay the actors, but even if that were the case, that would've never happened if it weren't for people calling out his exploitative bs. Which is exactly what's happened with the qsmp, only this time it's not a cancellation on twitter dot com, but a whole entire french union.

What I think their fans don't understand is that this is not a mob campaign against their faves, it's about protecting the working class from the privileged who refuse to pay them correctly or sometimes never at all, granting them rights to defend themselves when cases like these arise. This goes for people who claim Juan learned from his mistake, he clearly didn't if his immediate reaction to the union was:

(It's good that they formed a union, so they all hold hands together and fuck off)

So either he's forgotten his "lesson", or he only payed them (if that even happened) because he got caught and wanted to prevent a future cancelation).

[sysmedsaresexist]

So have you talked about Colin Ross abusing and traumatizing his patients, or him believing he can shoot beams of energy out of his eyeballs, or any of that stuff or did i miss those posts or what

I did :) keep looking, I'm sure you're almost there

In all seriousness, no one is saying he's a saint or unproblematic, but him believing he can shoot lasers doesn't exactly affect the results of fmris or the readings of other clinicians in the studies compiling results

I mean, unless he shot the lasers right into the machine

That might skew the results a bit

But if you're going to dismiss Ross, you also have to dismiss van der Hart, Braun (RIP???), Poznanski, and all of the other psychotherapy clinicians involved in 15-20% of yearly medical malpractice lawsuits (statistics in these areas are horrible to wade through).

Malpractice lawsuits are a fact of life in the medical field and that's why every doctor is legally required to have insurance. It's estimated that by the age of 65 years, 75% of physicians in low-risk specialties had faced a malpractice claim (this includes psychiatry), as compared with 99% of physicians in high-risk specialties (surgeons and the like). At least 10% of an average 40 year career is spent with an open lawsuit on file. 96% of medical malpractice cases are settled out of court, without you ever knowing they happened. Your family/general doctor has more than likely been sued before, and you have zero idea. Of the cases that go to court, over 55% are dismissed. Of the remainder, over 70% are awarded to the physician. These numbers are terrifying. Not only are the number of frivolous lawsuits incredibly high, the fact that so few cases are won by the patient is just depressing.

Based on the above, like 1 case out of roughly 3,500 yearly malpractice suits against therapists will succeed in court.

(The above numbers are US based)

To reiterate, over half of those cases never go to court and you don't know they happened, because at that point, insurance companies prefer to just make things go away with money, whether it's valid or not.

How many can't afford to sue?

These cases range from therapists oversharing, bad note taking, confidentiality concerns, sexual relationships, business relationships, misdiagnosis, prescription management, lack of training in techniques, disagreements, and any number of other things. More often than not, malpractice suits aren't for emotional damage, but procedural and ethical issues.

The more well-known you are, the harder the cases you take, the more likely you are to be sued. I don't actually know of a case where Ross was the sole named physician, usually there's 3 or 4 named and Ross has only made it to the settlement stage once, though we can't see what part he played or if he was held responsible over the other physicians. I don't think he was ever named as the primary physician, meaning he came into these cases after another doctor had made the diagnosis.

How would you feel if every doctor decided to reassess you themselves rather than trust another diagnosing physician? This is a real question that matters. It's not rhetorical. I'm not defending Ross, either, but I'd be pretty frustrated by the third round of testing. Multiple diagnosing clinicians just isn't always feasible, and yes, it leads to errors. But that's not just psychiatry.

I don't really know what to say to this ask. No one is denying he's got problems, but can those problems be directly tied to the research and did they skew results? Where do we draw the line to decide who's officially useless as a clinician (people like Hart) and who's just getting sued in a normal daily event?

Can we talk about the laser beam thing for a second, though?

Colin Ross has an eyebeam of energy he'd like you to hear

Ross applied to the James Randi Educational Foundation’s One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge

Ross's basic claim is that with the aid of special goggles he’s assembled using a blue Aqua Sphere swim mask, electrical wiring and, naturally, scraps of tin foil, he can harness the energy from his eyes and use the energy to play a tone on a computer. He describes it like an on-off switch. And he plans to use the technology he’ll develop to add receptors to such devices as iPods and light switches, allowing folks to turn them on or off using our eyebeams.

He won an award. A Pigasus. I think this is hilarious.

The Pigasus Award is given each year, “To the scientist or academic who said or did the silliest thing related to the supernatural, paranormal or occult.” Dr. Ross’ 2009 Pigasus Award stems from his ability to focus his own electromagnetic field to send a beam of energy from his eyes and make a tone sound out of a speaker. He has applied to the One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge administered by the JREF.

The JREF has ridiculed Dr. Ross since he filed his challenge application. James Randi wrote on his web page: “You think you’ve seen every sort of claim that could be thrown at the JREF…. Most have been preposterous, silly, irrational, and/or astonishing. Now we have one that is all of those…Dr. Colin A. Ross.”

“I am not the first unconventional thinker who has had to endure the snickering of cynics and skeptics, so I happily accept this recognition,” said Dr. Ross. “Every significant scientific advance faces resistance, but it is time that the JREF stop ridiculing me and tests the protocol.”

I don't know where I'm going with all this, it's just food for thought, context. Nothing is ever quite so black and white, even eye lasers, and sometimes you keep the bathwater and toss the evil baby.

It's hard, it's a balance. Do we say you can't trust the ToSD because of Hart? Can bad people still make reliable resources? As much as it sucks, I think some research is still valuable, and we need to teach people how to critically examine methods and conclusions to decide if the research has merit, not just decide based on whose name is first in the authors list.