#i fucking hate my routines and plans being disrupted

[tardis--dreams]

"No queuing is allowed in front of the entrance nor in the streets around the venue"- trinity college's concert rules are my new villain origin story

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Flaws & Strengths

PAIRING: Arvin Russell x fem!Reader

Words: 1.1k 

Summary [requested by - @anonymousreader101x ]: “ooo could i request an arvin x reader where they’re both in school and she wears a short dress with low cleavage and he gets all possessive and jealous and puts his hoodie on her to keep her covered and it keeps undoing so he keeps zipping it up through the day and then someone touches her and he fucks the up for her”

Warnings: swearing, violence, angst, (***) time jumps

Your relationship with Arvin was a blessing, he was everything you could have hoped for. He was your dream boy. You knew that Arvin was definitely serious about you, sparking the conversation about his plans and hopes for the future he envisioned with you. 

“Let’s get through school first, and then we can worry about these things Arv.”

“God Y/N, we should just leave now. I can get a job working in construction. Get a headstart while we’re still young-” 

“Arvin, sweetie, in due time. You try talking to my father about leaving school and tell me how that goes-” You playfully wink, pulling his denim jacket towards you, as you advance for a quick kiss.

“Hmm, I just hate this place. School was never for me, you know that. No point wasting my time when I can be useful out there... And I hate these sons of bitches-” The irritation in his voice perceptible, as he eyed out the same group of boys that would taunt and tease Lenora. 

“Just a few more years Arv, and I promise you, life will be good. Now let’s get to class.” 

***

Class as usual, was routine. As you’d be paying attention to the lesson ahead, Arvin was always preoccupied elsewhere, it became a habit that his time spent in class was to be enthralled by you, occasionally disrupted from his day dreams by the teacher or even yourself, if you’d catch him. 

Although today, seemed to pose a bit more of a challenge. As Arvin was closely surveying your body, his eyes scanning your every inch he’d realised the details of your outfit, and how conspicuous your body stood out this time around. Your dress seemed a little shorter than what you’d normally wear to school. This violet dress was one he’d never seen you wear before, nor did he know of its existence prior. As you innocently sat writing notes, one leg crossed gracefully over the other, the short length of it tried its best to cover your tender thighs. The subtle exposure of your cleavage now come to his attention as you’d removed your sweater prior to the lesson beginning, as you would occasionally lean over, he found himself feeling more flustered than usual, to a point where he needed to shift himself in his seat, in an attempt to readjust himself to a more comfortable position. The excitement of being with you, the images of him taking you there and then like a wild man, uncontrollable and overtaken by lust, hungry for you, shocked him. Desperately trying to distract himself from you, looking around the class for anything that would stop the excitement and his urges, he noticed he wasn’t the only one that seemed distracted by you. 

Now he was pissed. His mood had immediately changed in a heartbeat, as he noticed the hungry eyes of a boy, Johnny, lurking over you the same way he had. One thing you found about Arvin was that there was no limit to his possessiveness. 

He knew how these boys thought and acted, especially after the ordeal Lenora had endured. All the stories he’d disclosed with you about Lenora, it distressed him and although Lenora was his younger sister, with you, his love, it was different. 

Instinctively, he “accidentally” dropped his pencil towards your direction, kneeling himself over as he slowly reached down to retrieve it, he leaned closely by your side, urging you to put your sweater back on. Catching you off guard, you thought you’d misheard him, as you smiled down towards him. 

Glimpsing his stern eyes, it had nudged you to see Arvin was triggered. This time repeating himself, it felt more like a command, and you felt best to not question him now. 

***

“What was that about Arv?” You hastily rush after him, tugging his sleeve as you pull him towards the side of the class’ entry. 

“That motherfucker, I’m gonna kill him-” 

The sudden decline in Arv’s mood had shocked you. It wasn’t so much now how upset and furious Arvin could get, he was entitled to feel how he felt. Although it was a matter of how quick things could trigger him, his demeanour would turn inside out and you’d have no way of preventing it. 

“Hold on, now! What’s going on, Arv you need to speak.”

“It’s you, Y/N, you a-and that fucking dress. Why’d you have to wear that here in a place like this, with these assholes around? You know how hopeless these fuckers are.” 

You noticed this habit of his, where his fists would open and close as he clenched in frustration, pacing his emotions. His veins more visible from the sudden rush of blood coursing through as his adrenaline rose. You also realised, that during these heated moments, Arvin couldn’t nor wouldn’t even maintain eye contact with you, instead eyeing the members of your class exiting the room, as they dispersed themselves in different directions, going on with their day. 

“Hey-”

You whispered, as you slowly reached down, grabbing his hands in yours, as your thumb softly caressed his skin. 

“I don’t care what they do, Arv, and it shouldn’t matter to you either. I wear what I want not for them. Hey-” 

Your free hand had reached up, pulling his face to look directly at yours, as he still resisted from looking, he now had your full attention.

“Arvin, you need to let these things go, don’t let it get to your head. It doesn’t matter.” 

Pressing his lips in frustration, he seemed less tense, as he nodded in agreement to your words. You’d made him promise not to react or cause any scene during the day, before planting a sweet kiss on his cheek, going separate ways to your classes. 

***

“Holy shit! There’s a fight going on outside the field!” 

As you’d mindlessly drifted off in class, unable to concentrate after the little incident with Arvin, fiddling with the pencil in your hand, your head turned towards the windows overlooking the field. 

As the entire class, including the teacher had rushed themselves towards the windows, observing the scene unfolding before them, it took you just a few seconds before noticing two boys tussling on the ground, as the crowd barricading them opened up as the P.E teacher tried desperately to intervene. 

“It’s Johnny-”

“And I think that’s Arvin on top of him.”

“Jesus, he’s beating the shit out of him-”

“Language!” The teacher exclaimed, before attempting to resume class, as he pulled down the blinds. 

The image before you, Arvin on top of the boy, whom you now knew was the culprit of this ordeal. 

You should’ve known better, than to let Arvin off the hook so easily. As much as you opposed it, he was no stranger to violence unfortunately. 

Fighting was something he was taught since he was young, never to back down easily, nor to be taken advantaged of. 

Either way, you loved him. A flaw or a strength, Arvin was one of a kind, and you knew he’d have your back no matter the odds. 

[believeitseeitdoit]

Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home 

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them 

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this 

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

        “Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

       Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

     “Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

      They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

       Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

      Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

     “SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

     In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

     “Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

     “Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

     “So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

     “Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

     “You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

     He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

     “I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

     Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery.  As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

     Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

       Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

      “And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

     Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.” 

      As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

        “Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

        “Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

       “Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first. 

      Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

       “Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

       Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle. 

      You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

       “Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

       “Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

     “Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

    “My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll​ @iraot​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @tuiccim​  @thebescht​ @makbarnes​

[ilovesmosh55]

copy pasting my Min autism headcanon proof doc from when I first watched book 4 and went insane. Because I was right

Need for familiarity/routine/plans:

The Twin Tapes: shown to have a very set daily routine revolving around work and college applications before Ryan comes back. Gets angry when Ryan disrupts it and tries to get him to run away to New York.

The Iceberg Car: upset by the fact that he cannot remove the boots given to him by the train, comments that he wants his sneakers back.

The Party Car: after being overwhelmed, Min chooses to hide and calm down in the bathroom rather than the much cleaner green room. When asked why by Ryan, he explains that it reminds him of home. Additionally, he is so eager to change into his own clothes that he does so almost immediately after getting them back (albeit he does so offscreen). He was clearly uncomfortable changing near a crowd and remarks afterwards “there was a bathroom to get changed in this whole time?!”

The Pig Baby Car: Min gets frustrated with Ryan multiple times for rushing and not planning out what he does before he does it. He is shown multiple times throughout the series to dislike spontaneity in similar ways.

Need to correct others:

The Twin Tapes: interrupts to correct Ryan about what booth they used to sit in in middle school (notable also is his lack of thought about how that could impact Ryan emotionally)

The Pig Baby Car: says “I told you” to Ryan after being proven right about Pig Baby hating the cookbook provided.

The Art Gallery Car: Min corrects Ryan about how Lion Tamer actually sounds. Also corrects him about the maple trees in one painting.

Lack of emotional intelligence:

The Pig Baby Car: after coming to the conclusion that the number is Ryan’s he says “you actually took your time with something for once!” (Which you know. Sounds pretty insulting.) when Ryan apologizes for getting them on the train, instead of comforting him he says “I forgive you” and “you can’t help it if you have a lot to learn”.

The Astro Queue Car: while a lot of his condescension to Ryan here does seem intentional (he even acknowledges that Ryan might think he’s trying to be mean) a lot of it comes from a place of thinking he’s being helpful, as well as it resulting from his black and white view of whose number they have. When he is intentionally mean and angry, it’s because he sees what Ryan does as intentional defiance of him and his rules. Once he’s proven wrong, he tries (but fails) to apologize and is clearly shaken.

The Castle Car: tries to console Kez by saying “you’re basically good, you just need to get better at it!” Great fucking commentary pal!

Black and white thinking (especially regarding rules and instructions):

The Pig Baby Car: Min has a black and white view on numbers, thinking that he and Ryan’s must only belong to/be affected by one of them. When he comes to the (incorrect) conclusion that the number is Ryan’s he seems relieved and resigns himself to “helping” Ryan get it down. Additionally, Min tries strictly to follow what he believes the “rules” of the car to be, insisting they cook and getting mad at Ryan for trying to break the rules (talk his way out of the car instead of cooking).

The Old West Car: gets angry at Ryan for breaking the “rules” and speaking out of turn in court.

The Astro Queue Car: Min becomes increasingly frustrated when Ryan doesn’t follow what he believes are the car’s “rules” (waiting in the line). He cannot grasp any other way to get into the party being possible, as they would break the “rules”. He literally fucking says “if you just do everything you’re supposed to do you’ll eventually end up where you need to be”.

Difficulty communicating emotions:

The Astro Queue Car: struggles to express emotions besides anger, and can’t bring himself to apologize to Ryan after realizing what he’s done.

The Mega Maze Car: legit takes him like 8 episodes to finally vocalize why he’s been upset with Ryan (because he feels like he can’t trust him).

Train To Nowhere: does not immediately comfort Ryan when he calls himself garbage (also a moment of lacking emotional intelligence). He has to leave and gather his thoughts before having a serious conversation with Ryan, and Ryan has to be the one who approaches him first.

Misc.:

Often seen shoving his hands in his pockets while walking (autism can cause irregular gait/arm positioning while walking).

High levels of stress/anxiety are more common for autistic people. And he is sooo anxious

Seems to have a special interest in music, has known how to play his mini synth since childhood and infodumps about his favorite album multiple times in the show.

A lot of his anger especially at the beginning of the season seems to stem from his routine/plan for life being interrupted.

Seldom reciprocates/initiates physical contact.

I’m pretty sure I remember him pacing while upset too but my head feels like it’s gonna split in half so I’ll rewatch and look for that later.

[fire-sauced]

“Don’t let this diagnosis change you.”

I am autistic. Wow. I know. But if feels so good now to say it. At 32 years old, I was finally given the diagnosis that brought so many years of mental confusion, anguish, suffering.. all of it full circle.

I’ve spent nearly four years in (consistent) therapy healing from cPTSD, anorexia, and the many symptoms that accompany them. No matter how hard I tried- there were some aspects of my personality, behavior, and perceptions that I could not find justifications for nor fit the ‘healing’ mold. Aspects I hid from my therapist(s) because those aspects didn’t fall in line with my mental illnesses and my god - couldn’t possibly be something untreatable. They couldn’t possibly be just who I am.

Masking (unknowingly to me) for so many years prevented me from asking the questions I needed to. I thought fuck, at some point in this healing these things will get better. At some point these things won’t be a struggle for me anymore. I just have to keep trying to change... right? But that point never came. I couldn’t change these things no matter how hard I tried. Frustration became a constant emotional state. Confusion became reality. Coping mechanisms became toxic. After many autistic breakdowns, one big burnout, and a stranger’s question - I was finally able to ask why. Why can’t I handle sudden changes in plans? Why are my routines so fundamental to me? Why do I hate surprises? Why do I become so easily distracted at any disruption to my routine, and then hyper focus to the point of exhaustion on that thing? Why do changes out of my control or without my knowledge piss me off for being irritated? Why do I notice and note any change, no matter how subtle? Why do I become obsessed to the point of perfection and eventually exhaustion with any new hobby or interest? Why do I feel when I’m communicating effectively do others still misinterpret what I’m expressing? Why do I misjudge the body language/facial expressions of others so often? Why is making eye contact so uncomfortable? Why do I panic when I see anyone I know in public and avoid them at all costs? Why do I truly dislike meeting new people? Why does it make my skin crawl when things aren’t put back in their homes I’ve spent too many hours finding? Why do I seek out patterns in everything: people, lengths, colors, words? Why have I talked to myself (but a different version of me) since I could first speak? Why am I highly sensitive to smells/scents and extremely triggered by certain ones to the point it’s physically painful? Why do I rehearse nearly every conversation I have from going through a checkout line to deeply intellectual intimate things and can’t focus or become mute when I haven’t had enough time to prepare? Why do I feel comfort when talking about things I’m interested in or can relate to while struggling to find enthusiasm to talk about anything that doesn’t spark curiosity? My god, why am I so fucked up still?

And these are only a handful of questions I could not find the answers to no matter how hard I tried to relate it to my other diagnosis. Answers I would never find until I questioned, “Why?” because these traits were not symptoms of mental illnesses. These traits are how my brain is wired. How I have to navigate through this world that isn’t kind to people who appear ‘normal’ or ‘high functioning’ because we aren’t nonverbal or stimming constantly. A world quick to attempt to find any fault they can vs. acceptance and compassion. A world especially dishearteningly skeptical of those diagnosed in adulthood. A world of people, myself included, whom are ignorant to how vast the NOT LINEAR spectrum is that need to stop stigmatizing autism and do the homework.

I looked for answers in astrology and found that my profile is cosmically an inconsistent cluster fuck that leads me to constantly be torn between three sign spectrums. Okay, that makes sense, but why can’t I recognize where I am at on any one of the three spectrums at any given time? My therapist embraced my curiosity, but reminded me not to try and rationalize the irrational.

I looked for answers in memory triggering to see if somehow I had repressed a majorly traumatic event that altered my brain significantly. I mean, something must have caused all this, right? Something made me be this way! My memories are accurately intact, and my therapist applauded seeking to care for that inner child, but we found out that little child I was trying to heal wasn’t me. My inner child remembers everything with unwavering clarity.

I even thought I was a narcissist at some point from others seeing my neurodivergence as selfish and uncaring. My therapist laughed and told me the fact that I questioned if I could be a narcissist proves in itself that I am not. Narcissistic people never wonder if they are because they believe they do no wrong. Okay, comforting, but why am I still so rigid in my control and things needing to be done ‘the right way?’

If I’ve found how to function with the cPTSD and I’ve found how to function with the anorexia, then what the fuck is going on that I can’t function, let alone try to heal, from these so seemingly trivial but profoundly life altering things? Why wasn’t I asking the questions I needed to find the answer I deserved. The answer that couldn’t possibly be autism because society has manipulated the mold convincing me I didn’t fit in. I don’t have all the “common” traits. I certainly don’t “look” autistic. There’s no way... is there?

Being an undiagnosed autistic child lead to years of emotional neglect and trauma. Emotionally I was both forced to ‘grow up at a young age’ and stunted from being taught what healthy relationships and boundaries look like. Naturally this trauma ignited cPTSD. The constant confusion and lack of control over my own reality/life manifested control over what I did or did not put into my body. Recipe for years upon years of mental collapses, relationship struggles, physical pain and sensitivity to neurological stimuli, and a deeply overwhelmingly smothering feeling of being unfit for this world. I won’t say having this diagnosis this late in life has been all sunshine and rainbows, but I will say it has answered some questions and provided me with a new outlook on my own life so I can be better to myself. I’m not broken. I’m not eternally destined for pain and confusion. I’m not any less of a person than anyone else. I’m autistic.

I won’t lie - I’m still wrapping my head around this- months after my diagnosis. It’s still hard to accept that this isn’t treatable. This isn’t going to lessen with time. This isn’t going to become more tolerable. This isn’t going to cease with more healing. This is my life. These things are like being born with brown hair, only one arm, attracted to the same gender, an extra chromosome. It’s how you’re made. How I was made. And now how I must reorganize my world to stop beating myself up for the things I can’t change. Now I need to accept myself for who I am. Now I need to embrace my neurodivergence and the traits that accompany it. Some may notice the acceptance as changes or say “Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem with that before,” or “Don’t let this diagnosis change you.” I will say bravely and unapologetically: “I’m the exact same person. I always had these traits, and I’m not going to be quiet suffering in silence anymore. Autistic people can be loud and should be especially loud when being gaslighted by the oh-so-blessed neurotypical people. Accept us for who we are or kindly fuck off.”

Thanks for coming to my World Autism Awareness Day tedTalk.

[tipsydipsydo]

➳ "On your knees, Bitch!"

➳ "Be a good girl and don't make a sound."

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 1k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut!

Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Jealousy; Insecurities; some vibes of Dom-/Sub-Themes; Misbehaviour (in Namjoon's point of view); Name-Calling; Petnames; Daddy-Kink; Commanding; Degradation; Punishment; Oral (m); Face-Fucking; Gagging; Choking; Deepthroat; Mentions of unprotected vaginal Sex (please stay safe!)

A/N: Sorry anonie that it tooks so damn long to write your ask! 😅💕 I hope you like it~

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Namjoon knows it's Summer and especially this week it's hot as fuck out there, the heat wave is nearly unbearable. But that's not an excuse for you to wear that specific white blouse with the deep cutout, with this black, lacey bralette under there. It literally shines in all his seductive details through the thin fabric of your linen shirt!

If not already this made Namjoon discontent about your outfit, then it's ultimately your very short pair of hot pants. And when Namjoon means 'very short', he speaks about really fucking super short!

The very bottom of your buttcheeks are on display for everyone to look at and it's freaking obviously how the twp of the youngest of the group are staring at you.

In the corner of his right eye he sees how Jimin runs his fingers through his hair and licks his lips, playing with all his sex-appeal to catch your attention. His pendant who is named Jungkook is standing on the left side of the room and chews on his lower lip, his Adam's apple is bobbing nervously.

Usually Namjoon is not someone who gets jealous, overprotective or even a bit posessive easily. Not at all! Honestly he dislikes such feelings and behaviours in general but especially towards womens. He hate the thought to get mad about something so stupid like your outfit. But he can't help himself, especially not today.

The whole day was awful beyond belief, nothing, really nothing worked out. In the morning, the track of the Rap Line should be "officially" finished. Well, he isn't finished and the cause of problem is Namjoon himself. There is this fucking one line in his part where his tongue begin to stumble and he's falling out of the flow, end up stuttering the rest of the verse. No matter how often he repeats the verse and train the combination of words, it didn't work.

As if that's not worse enough, the new dance choreography is the hell for Namjoon. He's always falling somewhere in the step routine out of the rythm and with it, always two seconds behind the others. It reached the point that Namjoon's self-confidence started to crumble piece for piece. He got more insecure about his abilities with every dance routine he messed up. And now, his super talented band members starts to flirt with his girlfriend in front of his eyes, giving her compliments for her "nice" outfit.

Something snaps in Namjoon.

"Y/N? Can I talk with you alone? Under four eyes?", he asks you in rather harsh, serious tone.

You're confused, nodding slowly. But Namjoon already grabbed your wrist and directs you to the door. In fast and powerful steps he drags you the hallway down until he stopped abruptly and pulls you into an empthy meeting room. After he closed and locked the door, he turns around to you.

"On your knees, Bitch!"

You almost choke on your own spit. What the heck is wrong with Namjoon to insult you with such words out of the blue?! You don't know anything you could have made wrong besides maybe coming a bit too early where the boys are still in training. But that's not an excuse, hell no, literally nothing is an exuse to be so disrespectful to someone!

"What the-", you want to start but your boyfriend cut you off.

"Kneel."

Namjoon's hard gaze shows you that he wouldn't appreciate a fight with you right now. After a second of processing his command, you close your mouth again.

It's really unusual for Namjoon to raise his voice against you and not being up for an clarifying discussion. Looks like he has his reasons for it.

Slowly you sink on your knees. Now you're on the same eye level with his crotch and his... half erected cock in his pants?

"Pull my sweats down and take care of the problem you've caused in this... okay, I'll be nice, in this questionable outfit. Especially when you know that Jimin and Jungkook are thirsty for you like two damn dogs in their rut.", he growls.

Aha, there is someone jealous. Namjoon hates the feeling of jealousy and this fact alone makes him even more angrier. Under this circumstances is his anger actually a little bit cute. You're feeling a lot more powerful than it may looks like for others. Why? Because you're the one who has to built Joonie's Ego up again.

With fast fingers you pull all this disruptive fabric down to his thigh and pumping him with a few strokes of your hand fully hard. Unsure what exactly he wants, if he just wants a Handjob and enjoying the feeling of power by the sight of your kneeling figure or if he really wants a blowjob, you look up to him with a little helpless eyes. Your look make him smirk.

"Take my fat cock down your throat until you're choking on him and tears streaming down your pretty face. I want to see you pretty make-up all messy and completey ruined by the tears of joy to gag on my thick crown. Is that clear?"

"Yes Daddy.", you answer obediently like the good girl you truly are.

It only takes ten minutes until he have you where he want to. Teary eyes, swollen lips, your spit is mixed with his precum and sticks uncomfortable to your chin while your mascara and eyeliner painted the tear streams down your cheeks dark. Your thorat is sore and swallowing hurts gradually. No joke, he really facefucked you without mercy.

Namjoon takes a deep breath to calm himself down, he didn't plan to cum on your tongue. He wants to fuck you. Surprisingly careful he pulls himself out of your mouth and grabbing your hand to help you up from your aching knees. The skin of his two palms meet gently your cheeks to give you a tender kiss.

"That's my precious and perfect little girl, taking and deepthroating Daddy's cock so well! Turn around and bend over the table. I'll fuck you hard and deep, shooting my creamy thick cum into your pussy and let it drip down your thighs. It'll soak so nicely through these disrespectful short pants while we're with the boys. Jimin and Jungkook should see that's my cum what's coming out of your tiny hole. But for that, you have to be a good girl and don't make a sound, yeah?", he wispers huskily from behind into your ear, grinding his hard cock so deliciously between your clothed asscheeks.

"Hm, yes... anything for Daddy."

"That's what I call my good girl."

[finleyfray]

Unrequited

Soo huge thanks to @captain-josslett for helping me with English and making this have more sense

TW: Suicide, mention of abuse, mention of homophobia, angst

Enjoy.

Finley ran though the DEO building to the debriefing room. She was late for her last mission this year. It was routine mission, just gathering intel.

But, Fin didn’t had the power today, she was exhausted from the lack of sleep because of her nightmares, anxiety and she had been feeling very depressed lately. Ever since her crush, Alex Danvers, decided to tell everyone that she’s dating Detective Maggie Sawyer. The same Alex that has rejected her 2 months ago when Fin asked her out, because, as Alex had said “Sorry, I’m not really into woman”.

She snuck into the common room hoping nobody will notice her. But it was foolish to think that, seeing as this mission was only for two people. Immediately Director J’onzz looked right at her.

“Good morning Agent Fray, care to explain why you are late?” His tone hard and authoritative.

Finley frowned ‘Shit.’

“Good morning Director, excuse me, the traffic was really bad this morning”

‘Well that was lame.’ Fin thought to herself. The reason she was late was that she really didn’t want to go on this mission with Alex. When she closed her eyes at night she hoped that she would actually die in her sleep. And when she woke up, she was so busy staring at the celling and contemplate if she should just shoot herself with her gun that she hides under her bed.

“Don’t make a habit out of it.” He said and went on with the debrief. “Alright, you’ll leave in 5.” He dismissed them, and Finley went to armoury.

“Hey, Finley.” Alex greeted her, picking up her gun and putting her Kevlar vest on.

“Agent Danvers.” Fin nods dismissively, not meeting Alex’s eyes. The older woman frowns.

“You know, I would feel better going on a mission with you if I didn’t get the feeling of hate from you.” Alex said annoyed. Fin took her time strapping a gun to her thigh, before answering. Trying to keep her emotions in check.

“Don’t worry Agent Danvers, we’re work partners, I can’t let anything happen to you, can I? I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate it.

“I…” The redhead didn’t know what to answer, so Fin took her chance and went to their van.

 ***

“Watch out!” Fin yells and drags Alex towards herself. The mission was a trap, and now they needed to get out immediately.

“We need to retreat, you go first, go to the van. I’ll cover you.” Finley spoke fast, making a plan for them to get away.

“You’re in no position to give orders!” The redhead snarls.

“Do you want to go home today or not!?” Finley yells “I don’t think you have a fucking choice, Danvers, just shut up and listen to me for fucks sake.”

Brown eyes look at her in disbelief, Fin was mostly a calm person, but right now anger was written all over her face.

“Look, it’s up to you, you need to go home to your girlfriend and your sister, not me. I couldn’t care less.”

“Alright!” Alex shouted “We’ll do what you say.”

The older woman went first and Fin covered for her, so Alex would make it to the door to their right. But there were too many assassins, shooting at them constantly. As Fin moved from her cover to follow Alex one of the bullets went right through Fin’s shoulder. She hisses in pain but doesn’t stop running.

“GO!” she screams as she jumps into the van and Alex slams her foot on the gas. “Ahh, shit.” Fin breathes out, and takes off her shirt to look at her wound and stem the bleeding.

“You’re hurt!” Alex yells glaring at Finley and the road repeatedly. “Why didn’t you put on a Kevlar!?”

“Yeah, no shit!” Finley snarls back. “It disrupts my movement. Just go to the DEO! I don’t need you stating the obvious now, I’m in pain!” The black-haired woman was bleeding badly and she didn’t need Alex to lecture her now. Just 5 minutes more on the road and she will be getting medical attention. But Finley’s eyes were growing heavier.

“Hey, don’t close your eyes! You can’t die now!” The redhead panics as she sees Finley’s eyes closing.

“Relax! I’m not dying yet, I’m just tired!” Fin opens her eyes, annoyed by the older woman. ‘Like she cares if I die’ She huffs.

When they arrive at the DEO, Finley goes to medic while Alex finds Director J’onzz to debrief.

 ***

Fin sits on the bed in DEO medical wing, all patched up and ready to go when Kara enters her room. While she was in a rough patch with the redhead, the blonde was her good friend.

“Hey, Fin, you alright?” Kara walks to her and gently touched her hand.

“Yeah, Kar, I’m good, ready to go home actually.” The black-haired woman gives the blonde a small smile.

“I’m happy you don’t have to stay here for Christmas. It would be really sad.” Kara smiles back. “What are you doing for Christmas? If you have nothing planned you really should join us! Our mother, Eliza, will come soon to National City, and she really bakes the best pie. There will be just 5 of us, Lena, me, Eliza, Maggie and Alex, it’s going to be fun!” Kara babbles on, and Fin does everything not to frown.

Kara doesn’t know about the situation with Alex and how awkward it would be for Finley to be around Maggie.

“Thanks for the invite Kara, but, I’m actually going to visit my family in Gotham” Finley tries to give the brightest smile she can.

“Oh, well, that’s fun! So I guess we’ll see you after Christmas, enjoy your free time!”

“I will, have fun!” Fin says cheerfully, but when Kara leaves the room Fin deflates. She sure wasn’t going to her family. The family that abused her for being gay, and threw her out at age 16. She had a hard time trying to survive on her own such a young age. She didn’t need to relive that. She’ll just have to spend Christmas alone.

Kara’s invitation sure was nice, but she didn’t want to spend time with Alex and Maggie, it was still painful to see her crush with someone else. Finley suppresses the urge to cry. The medical room isn’t the place for this. So she gathers her things and heads home.

 ***

It was 1 am the next morning and Fin couldn’t sleep. She had spent the whole of Christmas in bed. Feeling like someone had ripped her heart out.

‘Why am I even living at this point?’ She thinks. Her dark thoughts swirling around her head. ‘I’m basically a huge disappointment, my parents didn’t want me, they don’t think I’m worth anything. Alex had to lie about not being gay when I asked her out, to not make me feel bad, and now she’s with Maggie. I’m barely able to look at her without crying. How am I supposed to work with her?’ She sighs and looks around her room.

‘Everything would be so much better if I just disappear.’ Her mind is running fast of possibilities and suddenly she remembers. Her gun. She always hides her gun in her room. Under her bed. It was for safety reasons, if ever someone breaks into her apartment.

Fin reaches down and pulls the gun out of its hiding spot. It would be so easy, just load it and put it against her head.

‘It’s not like anybody would miss me.’ Finley thinks as she stares at the gun in her hands. It would be fast, bullet will pierce through her head. It would stop all her function right away. She wouldn’t really feel it. At least she hopes so.

“That’s it.” She inhales and slowly lets it out. Her hands shake as she loads her gun. Slowly Finley puts the pistol to her temple, takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger.

 ***

“Hey.” Kara greets Alex as Kara enters the training room. Alex stops punching the bag and looks at her sister. “J’onn wants to see us.”

The redhead nods and takes off the tape from her hands.

“Have you seen Finley today?” Kara asks, the crinkle appearing on her forehead.

“Hmm, no not really. It’s not like the first thing she does is come and see me anymore.” Alex frowns. Ever since she told the Superfriends that she was seeing Maggie, the black-haired woman avoided her at all cost. She can’t blame her, Alex remembers how a few weeks earlier Alex told Fin she wasn’t gay. Alex did like Finley, she just thought it was a friendly kind of like. And then she had met Maggie and everything she believed about being straight, turned out to be a lie.

But now she was stuck, cause she loved Maggie, but she also realised she liked… loved… Finley too. But it was too late now, Fin hated her.

“Maybe she’s not back from her parents yet.” Kara tried to think up different reasons why she hadn’t seen her friend. “She probably called J’onn for a day off or something.”

The sisters head to Director J’onzz office and Kara knocks before they entered.

“Alex, Kara, I’m happy to see you. I have a request, Finley didn’t come to work today. She also didn’t call me. I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. This is unlike her, can you go to check on her?”

“She didn’t called? “ Kara frowns and looks at Alex “We thought she maybe wasn’t back from her parents yet.” J’onn looks at her surprised.

“Parents? Agent Fray doesn’t have a family.”

“B…but she said she was visiting her family for Christmas, when I asked her to come to spend it with us.” Kara looks at Alex, but she doesn’t said anything as Alex was thinking hard. ‘Why would she lie?’

“That can’t be right.” J’onn frowns. “When she left before Christmas I asked her what her plans were. She told me that you invited her, and she’s going to spend holiday with you.”

“Kara, we need to go! Now!” Alex panics and the sister’s race to Finely apartment.

 ***

“I smell blood” Kara said as they near Finley’s apartment, she superspeeds the rest of the way. Alex races after her. Kara opens Finley’s apartment door and she superspeeds through the home looking for her friend.

“FIN!” She yells as Alex runs into the apartment. But Alex was not prepared for what she saw. Her breath stops and she falls to her knees.

The black-haired woman lay there dead with a hole in her head. There was a lot of blood on her pillow, and a gun in her hand. Her blue eyes were closed, and there was a small smile on her blue lips. She looked relieved.

“No, no, no, wake up!” Her sister shakes Fin as if she was trying to bring her back to life, tears stream down her cheeks. “Alex!” The blonde looks at her sister, begging her to do something.

“F…Fin… She’s dead…” Alex chocks out.

 ***

“We have gathered here to say goodbye to our friend, Finley Fray…” J’onn begins his speech looking at the small group that came to Fin’s funeral. The Superfriend’s and a few DEO agents that were able to take the time off work.

Lena holds Kara close as she cries silently. Next to her was Eliza, and there was an empty place where Alex should sit, but she didn’t make it to the service. Next to the empty place sat Maggie and Winn. All of them listening to J’onn.

After the speech, the group gathered together.

“I can’t believe she’s dead…” Winn says sadly. “It just happened so sudden, it doesn’t make sense…”

“I wish I would see it sooner, I would help her…” Kara cries and Lena hugs her tighter. “I’m the worst friend.”

“It’s not your fault baby…” Lena says, trying to soothe her girlfriend. “We all failed to notice.”

J’onn looks down in shame. “I’m sorry… I knew she was struggling with a few things, I should’ve talk to her. I didn’t know it was that bad.” He sighs heavily. “Where’s Alex?” He looks at Maggie.

“Ehmm… she’s not really handling this well. She wouldn’t leave the apartment. I don’t think she is ready to say goodbye yet…”

 ***

Alex looks at the photo of her and Finley. It was taken 2 days before Fin asked the redhead on a date. Where the older woman panicked and said that she wasn’t gay. Everything was easier back than and Alex didn’t feel like her heart was ripped out of her body, thrown on the floor and stamped on.

She still couldn’t believe Fin killed herself.

Going to her funeral didn’t feel right, she should be alive.

The redhead took a sip from her glass of whiskey, suddenly feeling angry. She was angry at Fin for being so selfish, angry at herself for causing her pain and angry at the world that they took one of the woman she loved from her.

But it was too late now.

[simplybakugou]

Forever with You

↝ It all started with his love for meat buns… now Kirishima reminisced on the time you first met to help him find the courage to propose to you.

BINGO SPACE: Engaged

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!kirishima x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; FLUFF (just a lot of cuteness :)) ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3021

A/N: here’s another bingo piece for the @bnhabookclub​ event! it was my first time writing for kirishima so please let me know what you think! thank you to @sugacookiies​ for requesting kiri for this prompt (love you xin!) credit to @eraserhead-transparents​ for kiri cap!

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.02.2020✐

“At least give me a hint?” You asked, peering up at Kirishima with hope laced in your eyes.

Kirishima shook his head as you both continued walking down the path. “Nope, no can do. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You crossed your arms begrudgingly over your chest. “It’s not fair. What if you’re leading me to my death?”

Kirishima chuckled, putting his arm around your shoulders. “Come on! You know I’d never let anyone hurt you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re Red Riot for a reason,” you said, wrapping your own arm around his waist as you leaned into him. That morning you woke up and got ready like you did every other morning only for your boyfriend disrupted your plans as he entered your apartment unannounced and whisked you away, claiming he had somewhere he wanted to take you. No matter the amount of questions you had for him, you followed him anyways and here you were, still walking down the street as he led you to wherever this mystery destination was.

“Alright, we’re here!” Kirishima exclaimed.

You rose a brow in confusion, dazily blinking at the sight before you. “What’s this?”

“What do you mean? It’s a park!” Kirishima said, stating the obvious. He walked over past the front gate of the park, sitting down on one of the wooden benches. He patted the space beside him and you sat down, still bewildered about why he had taken you there in the first place.

“Eiji, I’m still so confused,” you said after a few minutes as he just sat and watched the families playing in the area along with those who were working out and doing other physical activities.

“Do you know what this place used to be?” Kirishima asked, still looking off into the distance as he watched with a smile at the numerous kids running around and playing amongst each other.

You shrugged. The park was in Musutafu where you and Kirishima spent a good amount of your adolescence in back in your respective high schools. As time progressed you both strayed away from the city, pursuing your career and Kirishima becoming a pro hero. But since you and Kirishima were dating, you eventually moved back to Musutafu with him although you lived separate from one another for the time being.

“How could you not recognize this place? This is where your cafe used to be!” Kirishima said.

“Really? That was here?” You asked in astonishment. “It’s been so long since that place closed down I forgot where it was. And this whole place looks completely different.”

“Yeah, I passed by here a few days ago and that was when I realized.” Kirishima looked down with a smile on his face. “That cafe meant a lot to me… it’s where we first met.”

You grinned along with him. “Even though I hated that place sometimes at least that shithole gave me you.”

Kirishima laughed at your words, his nerves calming slightly thanks to you. He felt beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck and his forehead, taking his mind off the crucial task he wanted to fulfill in a matter of minutes as he listened to the sound your voice as your reminisced on the time you met the love of your life.

***

Back when Kirishima was in U.A., he would find himself stopping by a cafe which was on the way to his school that sold the best meat buns. In his first year he would go almost every afternoon after school just for one meat bun but sometime in his second year, he saw an unfamiliar face behind the counter. It was a girl who seemed to be around his age. She seemed laidback, conversing with customers when needed but overall was detached. Above all else, she was absolutely beautiful to the point where Kirishima nearly choked on his own breath at the sight of her.

Quite evidently that girl was you, a teenager who was helping her father run his cafe after school. Although you didn’t want to be there on most days, some customers made your experience worthwhile. 

And then there were some that made you feel absolutely enraged.

“Give me your number, I won’t hurt ya,” the sleazy man said as he continued to attempt to flirt with the young girl who was quite obviously uncomfortable with his harassing.

“Please leave me alone,” the girl said in a low voice, trying to evade eye contact with the creep.

“Come on, I know you want me,” the man said as he slid his disgusting hand towards the young girl’s bottom.

At that moment, Kirishima had walked into the shop after a long and productive day at school. He was ready to step in but was stopped by your voice as you tossed a used coffee filter at the man’s head. “She doesn’t wanna talk to you, you dumb fuck,” you spat in disgust.

The girl managed to get away in time, quickly thanking you as she sped out the door. The man, who was now covered in coffee grounds reached out to grab you from over the counter until Kirishima stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, forcefully bringing it down to his side. “Hey, man, why don’t you just leave before you make things worse for yourself?”

The man shoved Kirishima’s hold from his wrist as he stepped backwards, making his way out. He made sure to give you a piece of his mind, spilling out profane words from his mouth as he left. You simply rolled your eyes, flipping him off before turning to Kirishima. “Thanks for that. I deal with enough assholes like him so it’s nice to have some help.”

Kirishima chuckled. “No problem!”

Since that day, the bubbling feeling in Kirishima’s chest grew the more he saw you. From the first time he saw you, in which he was a bit hesitant to speak to you since the encounter with the sleaze, your conversations with Kirishima only expanded the more you saw him. You were assertive, a trait Kirishima admired, and weren’t afraid to speak your mind. But at the same time you were chill and Kirishima couldn’t help but blush everytime you knew his order by heart with a wide grin on your face.

For the rest of his time at U.A. High, Kirishima continued this routine of visiting the cafe initially for its meat buns but in reality he was satisfied everytime he saw your face.

Sooner rather than later, Kirishima eventually graduated and he left Musutafu to finally pursue his pro hero career. Each day passed and you frowned at the end of your shifts when you realized Kirishima hadn’t shown up that day. Eventually you grew accustomed to his lack of visits and didn’t bother to peer over your shoulder everytime the door opened. 

It wasn’t that Kirishima purposefully left without saying goodbye, rather he wasn’t given a break to breathe since he graduated. From being recruited by various agencies to being given a sidekick position, Kirishima was constantly busy. Slowly yet surely he climbed the ranks as the years passed and had managed to obtain a spot in the top ten heroes. 

And with this passing time, your life was progressing as well. After graduating from high school, your father gave ownership of the cafe to you as he finally retired. Although you knew you wouldn’t maintain the cafe forever, you still found a way to love the little shop on the corner of the street regardless of the amount of annoying customers you dealt with daily, 

You weren’t surprised in the least to see Kirishima’s face constantly wherever you went. You were well aware of his reputation as one of the promising students and upcoming heroes when he was at U.A. so you couldn’t help but smile everytime he was on the news. Even some of your regulars caught onto your little crush as the TV in the cafe would only play anything and everything Red Riot related.

And then that faithful day came, the door swinging open as the bell above the doorframe rang. A sigh escaped your lips as you wiped another coffee cup dry. “I’m sorry, we’re closed.”

“Aw, guess I was too late. I came by to see you again,” an all too familiar voice said with a light chuckle.

You twisted your head around, gasping internally as Kirishima waved shyly to you. You nearly dropped the cup in your hands but managed to catch it in time. “Y-You! You’re back?!”

Kirishima stepped forward, leaning his forearms on the counter. “Yeah, I’m in town so I thought I’d stop by my favorite place for some of your meat buns.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as you crouched down in front of the display case that luckily had one meat bun left. You put it in a bag and slid it over to him. “Guess I can’t say no when Red Riot’s the one asking me for some meat buns.”

Kirishima laughed, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. “Nah, it’s not like that! I’m Red Riot to most people but I’m just Kirishima with you.”

And for the next few days Kirishima continued to stop by your cafe, deciding to pop in after closing time since people would crowd around him when the place was open. Your adoration for him only grew as he did for you. He was a genuine person, one who hadn’t changed despite the years that had gone by and the reputation he had created for himself. He truly was an amazing person.

But to your disappointment, his visits decreased once again until he stopped showing up. You knew you couldn’t be mad at him, understanding that he had a demanding job, one which he couldn’t predict when he would be busy or not. And yet you couldn’t ignore the deep despondency you felt when you realized you wouldn’t see his toothy grin and that those blazing crimson eyes again for a while.

Just like it had before, time passed and sooner than later, a year had gone by. 

Kirishima was finally in Musutafu again and he walked down the street with a jig in his step, anticipating the expression on your face for when you would see him again. But he stopped dead in his footsteps, disbelief written all over his face as he saw the front doors of the cafe had been boarded up, signs littered all over the windows. “CLOSED DOWN FOR BUSINESS” was written on the signs and Kirishima felt his heart nearly sink to his feet.

He couldn’t believe it, not wanting to believe that he was too late. He couldn’t help but think that if he were more considerate towards you and let you know when he would be leaving and showing up then he might have made it in time, he might have gotten closer to you so that he could keep in touch.

But it was too late. It seemed that Kirishima would never see you again... or so he thought.

“Kirishima?” Kirishima whipped his head around to the source of the sound, an invisible weight lifting off his shoulders once he saw your figure approaching him.

Small snowflakes began falling gently from the sky as Kirishima let out a breath of air. He couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked, your face snug under the fabric of your scarf wrapped around your neck to keep warm from the frigidness outside.

“What happened to this place?” Kirishima asked, gesturing to the closed down cafe.

You let out a sigh, glaring at him. “You know, if you showed up moreoften then you wouldn’t be out of the loop.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been busy with work but I should’ve stopped by more than I did,” Kirishima admitted.

You smiled softly. “It’s alright, I was just joking. I know you’re busy kicking ass out there. But some company bought out the place and the rest of the shops down this road for some construction. Apparently they’re putting something else here. It was a shit ton of money so obviously I wasn’t gonna turn it down.”

“I see,” Kirishima mumbled, glancing over at the building. So many memories flooded his mind of the times he spent at this little cafe, all being bright and making his high school days a little more bearable compared to all of the chaos he faced at U.A. It made him dejected to see he wouldn’t have an excuse to see you anymore.

Or maybe he could change that now…

“Your number,” he sputtered out, extending his arm with him phone in hand to you. “Can I have your number?”

You blinked confusedly at him. “Uh sure!” You took the phone in your hand and punched in your name and your number and waved at him. “Well, I’ve gotta go. I need to sign some papers to officially sell this place.”

He took his phone back, smiling sheepishly at you before parting his lips to say one more thing to you. “I wanna take you out... to make up for all the times I left without saying anything.”

You smirked at the him, patting his shoulder as you walked past him, turning your head slightly to reply. “I’ll hold you to it, hero.”

***

“Can’t believe they turned that plaza into this beautiful park,” you said, leaning onto your boyfriend’s arm.

Kirishima tensed under your touch, his left hand dropping beside the bench to grab a plastic bag that he had left in preparation for the outing. He picked it up and placed it on his lap, pulling a sealed meat bun out from the bag.

You eyed the delicious food in delight, your stomach practically growling at the sight. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I got it from the market we used to go to. Their meat buns are so good.”

You scoffed, snatching the delectable bun from your boyfriend’s hands. “Nothing compares to my meat buns.”

Kirishima let out a laugh. “You’re not wrong there.”

He watched you in fondness as you ripped open the plastic and took a big bite out of the bun. He rose a finger to your lips, wiping away a stray piece of dough from the corner of your lips. Even while devouring food you were gorgeous.

Kirishima reached into the bag once more, gripping the velvet box in his fist. He turned his head to you as you continued to eat. “I used to go to that cafe everyday in my freshman year for some meat buns and I just remember thinking this place can’t get any better. And then you showed up and you gave me another reason to visit everyday.”

You smiled, wiping your mouth with the remaining bun in your hand. Kirishima rose a finger to your lips when you attempted to say something. “Wait, just… let me say this.”

You nodded slowly, slightly perplexed by what he was attempting to do. Kirishima looked down at the box which was out of your view. “I always thought that you were one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. And then that day when you stuck up for that poor girl who was being harassed by that creep? That was the day I knew I liked you, ‘cause you were a badass. I always thought heroes who were manly were cool… but you were the coolest. You’ve always spoken up for the things you believed in and it’s something I’ve always admired and loved about you.”

Kirishima looked back up at you, smiling with his cheeks tinting a light pink hue. “And then after all those years I finally got your number and the more time I spent with you, the faster I fell for you. And now after the years we’ve been together, I can’t help but want to be with you forever.”

You smiled from his sweet words, the chewed up meat bun filling your cheeks as you were completely oblivious to what he was attempting to do. “Eiji, you’re being so fucking cute right now.”

Kirishima laughed, his nerves quickly diminishing. “You idiot, I’m trying to say that I want to marry you.”

He pulled out the box with one swift movement, flicking the lid open to reveal a silver band with a ginormous diamond resting on top of it. Your eyes widened as you dropped the half-eaten bun to the floor. You began choking on the meat bun that was in your mouth, coughing profusely from the shock.

Kirishima rubbed your back, making sure that you were alright. “Are you okay?!”

Your coughs ceased as you were covering your mouth and you felt a wet substance hit your fingertips. Tear after tear emerged from your eyes as you began crying uncontrollably. Kirishima was dumbfounded as he dropped the velvet box to his lap. Maybe he shouldn’t have proposed so soon… maybe you weren’t ready… 

“I’m sorry… you don’t have to say yes. I was probably getting ahead of myself,” Kirishima muttered, gloom evident in his tone.

You peered up at him through wet lashes and wrapped your arms around him. You held onto him for a moment before you pulled away, kissing him harshly. He was left disoriented, not understanding what was going on. Again you pulled away, his cheeks cupped in your hands as you laughed through your tears. “Why would you even think I’d say anything but ‘yes?’ Of course I want to marry you, Eijirou!”

Kirishima’s face broke out into a grin as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for another kiss as he felt your tears wetting his face. He thought he couldn’t be happier with the time he had spent with you but in that moment he was the happiest he had ever been. He was now engaged to the love of his life, and he couldn’t believe it.

It all started with his love for meat buns… now he could look forward to his new life forever with you.

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[rebsrams]

The Enneagram Series - One (Ethan x F!MC)

Book: Open Heart (OHSY)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Rebecca Valentine)

Warnings: angsttttt

Summary: Ethan’s back from the Amazon. MC can’t really come to terms with his decision to cut her off. Based on Atlas: Enneagram from Sleeping at Last.

Word count: 1,249

Author’s notes: I kinda re-imagined part of the beginning of OHSY, actually. It sounded very strange to me that MC would just try to get him back no matter what after he left her like a total coward, escaping his feelings. I just thought that she would have reacted, in some way. And being my MC extremely hot headed, that’s the way it turned out!

Song: One - Sleeping at Last

“Why do you always have to be so goddamn patronizing, Ethan?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you keep fucking up every damn thing that you lay your hands on!”

There they were, roaring at each other again.

The week they had experienced was quite rough, aiming at each other’s throat on every possible occasion and without any valid reason.

Except the fact that after his return from the Amazon, he shut her out for the umpteenth time, and soon it became clear enough to her that he wanted it to be the last.

After the first, big fight they had over Ethan’s words at Donahue’s, he decided that the wisest thing to do was to ignore her and give her time to take his decision in, although it took him an amount of effort that after two months away from her wasn’t ready to face at all.

However, his decision soon turned out to be delusional, as she began to tease him slightly on every possible occasion about his recent recanting, forcing him to stay quiet and bite every bullet in order to keep a vague appearance of dignity across the corridors.

When the situation became unsustainable to him, he began to do the only thing he was used to do when things got rough: he became a bossy jerk, continuously mistreating her to keep her away from him.

The plan obviously didn’t worked out as well as he imagined, because she began to yell at him every time he got a little too much authoritative for her taste and he, for his part, was far too proud for letting himself go the opportunity to stand up to her, his guilt only slightly moderating his tones.

At least they had the decency of fighting in his office, far from prying eyes and especially ears.

But the walls of his office were a little too thin for the volumes reached by their confrontations, and every now and then Ethan happened to notice Harper’s disapproving glances coming his way.

All that he could do was let out a long sigh, pinch the bridge of his nose and go on with his work, waiting for another day to come to an end and for Rebecca to finally draw a line under the whole situation and at least try to forgive him.

But that day, he lost it.

It wasn’t exactly something that she said or done, he deserved every cursing word coming his way.

He was simply mad and couldn’t take it anymore.

Mad with himself, for allowing to his marble heart to break down its walls and letting her in, not even thinking of the consequences.

And mad even with her, for being so incredibly breathtaking, swaying her hips and graciously laughing at the nurse station every single morning.

It was too much for him, for the cold, perfectionist, overachiever Dr. Ethan Ramsey.

He didn’t really mean those things.

He knew perfectly well that she was an excellent doctor, one of the best of her age, and most importantly he didn’t mean to say, by no means, that she was fucking him up.

He was self-destructing himself, staying away for her and forcing himself to push her away every time they got closer.

And though he was the emotionless and imperturbable doctor that Edenbrook came to know, he just wanted to loosen the reins for a bit and allow himself to feel.

Well, if he wanted to feel something, her face after those words was something that could have easily tormented him for weeks.

Totally wounded, for a moment utterly helpless in front of the amount of conflicting feelings she was experiencing.

He could read delusion, sorrow and something that he found rather difficult to pinpoint.

Maybe… Hate? Could it really be that, in the end, she came to hate him?

Well, I’d deserve it, he couldn’t help to think, the weight of what he said totally sinking in.

“Oh, well, in that case… I guess I have nothing more to do here,” she looked around his office, tears dangerously threatening  to fall off her freckled cheeks.

“Have a good day, Dr. Ramsey.”  She turned around, then stopped on her tracks when she was already holding the doorknob.

“On second thought…”

This wasn’t going to end well.

“I suggest you to let go of all this” she gestured around him “aura of complete perfectionism that you bring. It may sooner or later require something of you that you can’t afford to give away. Think of it.”

With this enigmatic words, she left the room leaving her characteristic wake of coconut and cinnamon mints behind her, the loud, angry thumps of her sneakers on the floor annoyingly drawing attention towards her.

Though he always knew she was the only mystery he wasn’t always ready to unravel, her words resonated loud and clear, like a bolt from the blue. Something he tried to ignore for all his life.

Everything in his existence had got to be perfect. No burrs of defects, from his tie knots to his patients’ charts. He lived strictly following routines and embarking only in situations he knew he could fully manage. Which was definitely not the case, speaking of her.

She came into his life like a hurricane and disrupted all of his plans.

Everything was so simple, before her.

Don’t marry, don’t have any kids, commit to your job completely and take Jenner out twice a day.

That’s all he needed, all he wanted. Until her.

Just needed to look at what he’d done to get over her and put his mind back to wherever the hell it was before.

He didn’t have many friends inside the hospital, but whoever knew him just an inch could tell that spending two months in the Amazon wasn’t exactly what he was aspiring to, at least at the time.

It happened increasingly that he found himself daydreaming of her, cuddled against him on the sofa, with her head on his shoulder and his hand through her ginger locks. He found incredibly hard to admit, especially to himself, that he once fantasized about her in a white dress, with orange flowers in her hair.

To bring things back to normal, he thought he just needed time and space to divide him from her, and the Amazon sounded like the further job offer he had received in the latest months.

It could have been a vaguely good idea only if he had the real guts to remain there and not showing his great punching-bag face anymore. He would have still found out that his feelings for her were still there, of course, but at least he would have spared her all the hurt that followed that unfortunate (but breathtaking at the same time) encounter they had at Donahue’s, the night he got back.

He always needed proof for everything, and that was one of the reasons why he became a doctor.

Laws of biology can’t hurt you, people can. That’s what he repeated himself throughout med school and afterwards.

He searched for predictability, order, perfection. But at what cost?

“Something of you that you can’t afford to give away”

His soul, his heart, his humanness. Things he reluctantly needed, as a doctor and as a hypothetically happy human being.

But he just stayed there, the scent of his now cold coffee floating around the room and his eyes locked on the door she went through mere moments ago.

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

So, this is gonna be angsty.

As an aspiring singer and a huge music lover, I often draw inspiration from pieces of music. Also, I’m utterly in love with Sleeping at Last, so this is just part of what I wrote listening to them.

I’m not sure how this series is going to evolve, I just know that it will have (with any luck) nine chapters.

Maybe I will go in chronological order, trying not to mess up with the original plot, or maybe I’ll just write about some slices of life involving my favourite duo.

If you have any suggestion, please write me! :)

Unfortunately, don’t know when I’ll be able to post again. I’m having a huge mole of work to do and I don’t really know where to begin! I’ll try to keep writing as a safe haven in this messy world that we’re living in.

tags: @schnitzelbutterfingers​, @choicesfan10, @openheartfanfics​ 

I’d also like to thank again everyone who’s commenting such beautiful things under my works, lots of heart emojis to you 💗💗💗

[ryttu3k]

Finishing up SoNY, ‘bad’ end and final thoughts!

But first, the early game over.

Wow, she just gets shot. Not even slurped? That’s rude as hell XD;;

And on to the ‘bad’ end!

Beginning is much the same, ofc.

“You’re too in love with weaving a good story and establishing a seductive narrative to let facts get in the way.” Foreshadowing for the ‘good’ end, maybe?

God that Embrace scene gives me literal goosebumps.

Alright! Last time I did Danse Macabre and Retributive Justice, let’s try The Risks of Swiping Right!

lmao god I’d eat this guy too. Back to the ghost club! That legitimately is a really neat scene. ...Ooh yes so that’s where the girl was from.

Panhard just lowkey dying at the mental image of Katherine Weise in a fast food restaurant is so good.

The sweet scene between Julia and Dakota hits a bit different after the ‘good’ end XD;;

Went to the park, reminisced, and helped out the guy. That was sweet ;_; High-humanity Julia, this time!

‘Fairy God Mother?’ is great but ‘Vin Diesel?’ is objectively the funnier response.

“Shining even more brightly than usual, Aisling.” Samira got a cru-ush~

Poor Julie. It’s probably been tough without Sophie around :(

Huh. Interestingly, refusing to lie to Mia results in Julia actually feeling genuine loyalty to the Cammies (for now, at least).

Believing Agathon is still alive = more optimistic = different dialogue! See, this is how you make choices have consequences, game!

Oooh boy time to meet Adelaide XD;;

“She uncrosses her legs in a strangely seductive motion. In her mind’s eye, it probably looked like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, but in reality, it had all the grace of a tracksuit Slav squatting.” *snickering*

Fight me, Adelaide >:(

‘sup Nastya. Went with the slightly less disruptive routine here XD Huh, she’s an aspiring DJ! Julia is deeply confused as to how being a DJ and being head of security works together.

lmao Julia referring to Hope as a girlboss. That phrase has lost all meaning to me...

The conversation between Julia and Father Leonard is still really interesting. Man, you know who I want Julia to talk to? Anatole. Interesting insights into balancing being queer Catholic vampires there for sure.

lmao oh my god I want to fight this street reporter.

‘I can almost feel my brain losing its wrinkles.’ *snort*

Yeaghhhh the Abyss bit is still so creepy...

Oops. Being honest regarding Tamika and Torque’s relationships gets a fail :(

Oh, or not XD That works! Also, uh, apparently the giant albino ghoul alligator is real, according to New York by Night. He’s Calebros’ pet.

“Because I think I have a pretty good nose for people’s auras. And when I take a good look at you... ...somehow, I have a feeling you’re a surprisingly decent person. Whatever way of unlife you choose, I hope you don’t change it. And that you remember my advice.” :)

“I know.” Oof.

“Hi.” “WAAAH!” lmao sorry Princess XD;; Just trying to imagine Qadir’s face as he tells Julia to find a 1990 glass statue of Scrooge McDuck... dying...

Oh she’s so a Toreador XD Low art options are a fantasy book, an anime DVD, or a video game... those can all be arty, though! And went with the anime DVD called ‘Ririsu no Daibouken’... that translates to ‘Adventures of Lilith’. How on the nose XD “The cover says ‘Lilith’s Carnal Carnival’.” Oh. Yeah, that’d do it XD

“This 90s original video anime presents us with a tale of five big-bosomed samurai warriors travelling through America in search of General Hastavista, The Incubus King. Don’t let all the titillation misguide you: the main draws here are peerless direction, a nearly avant-garde editing rhythm and dialogue that coyly comments on traditional gender roles in anime. Once you see the animation in the final battle, you’ll understand why it never fails to set a sakuga fan’s heart ablaze!”

She’s my new favourite.

“So can I know your name now?”

“Hmmm... Let me think...

No. <3″

I need to stress that the heart appears in the dialogue box. Like. The actual less-than-three heart.

Didn’t investigate the rat this time, so Qadir did and I die. “Glad you’re alright, little guy.” Qadir...

Still not over the drunk blood doll rats.

Kaiser’s still a goddamn creep and this time Julia is not going too far. She still has her humanity, dammit. Final set of traits:

Loyal to the end

Glass half-full

Not into a bad cop schtick

Honesty is the best policy

No more human, still humane

Onwards to the ‘bad’ end! Oops, and Dakota still did the Single White Female thing XD;;

Man I’m still really curious who the ‘good friend’ is!!

Okay! Time for end game!!

So that’s the good friend, huh? “Let me phrase it differently, then. You’re not Ecaterina the Wise, the Agitator of Prague, a Brujah elder causing turbulences all over the world... are you?”

Mention of Christof! Mention of Christof doing shady shit :| Poor Hana.

“An immigrant from Eastern Europe comes to New York City, takes the position she always expected to find herself in, is molded into someone who is no longer herself.”

Julia and Dakota representing Carthage is kind of neat.

I want to say the mention of St Jude is a reference, but I’m not sure what to XD;; Is that from Redemption? Christof could have been the one to tell Hana that.

“Like a two-person human centipede loop or something. An Ouroburos? Or an, uhh, Mobius strip?” No, that’s the other traditionally Sabbat clan XD

That‘s. That’s a hell of a reconciliation XD “Yeah, let’s give it a try. By the way I’m on the run for my unlife, want to go to California and try to find utopia?”

Julia, wear a fucking mask XD

“Hey.”

“Yeah?“

“Do you love me?”

“... Of course I do. For now, at least.”

I still don’t know if I love her. Or even if I can love anyone, for that matter. I’m a fucking monster, after all. I don’t even know if we’ll exist next month. The prospects are not looking good. But although I can’t see myself in the rearview mirror right now...

...I will remember this image of us leaving the city, somewhat melancholic, and somewhat hopeful, forever. And maybe the meaning of this image will be clarified with time. Or maybe I will just force a more positive description on it, and that is what I’ll believe.

No matter what happens... even if oceans of blood lie before us, I will make this a cherished memory.

Whatever possible salvation still remains for me... ...it probably lies in the eyes of another.

Oh dang I have chills.

So the ‘bad’ ending is about the subverted compromise. Julia resigns herself to letting the compromise about the truth of Callihan’s death go ahead. ‘Catherine’ is a walking compromise to hide the Ecaterina’s real deeds. But while Hana is still stuck in her role for now, Julia refuses to accept the compromise she’s made, both the one relating to the investigation and the compromise she made of her own views and morals. It might blow up in her face, yeah. But damn, she’s going to try.

So, final thoughts! For the sake of completion, this is what I said about Coteries:

And of course this is the part where the game all falls apart :-\

Just… god. This is probably the biggest problem with CoNY, and the reason I didn’t bother getting it until it was like… 60% off. The bulk of the game is great - the writing is intriguing, the design is stunning. But the choices themselves are so limited it’s barely worth even getting it at 60% off!

You have three choices of characters, with their own opening chapters and own individual scenes with their touchstones. You have four choices of coterie members, and three sidequests. You can probably get in at least three full story arcs and a sidequest or two, but you’re only ever limited to two of your coterie members showing up at the not-yet-endgame.

So let’s say you decide to play all three protags, which, indeed, is encouraged (there’s an achievement for it). You are going to repeat coterie arcs and side quests, because there simply aren’t enough for three unique playthroughs.

And then you get to the end and literally everything is scripted. You get attacked by the SI. You get rescued by your two coterie members (and then never see them again, despite the game being called Coteries of New York). You meet Torque, you escape the SI, Sophie reveals her plan to Torque, you go to Ellis Island, Adelaide kills Sophie (and despite the fact that you’re given multiple options there, none of them work), Arturo does his spiel, end of game. You don’t even get to choose between ending up blood bound or going “no fuck you” and at least dying with a bit of dignity!

I just. I really want to like it, and there genuinely is a lot there to like! But uuuugh the ending. Like damn at least give the poor protag the option to choose what happens to them!

Anyway. Not sure what’s next. To get all the achievements, you have to finish with all three protags, so that’s three full runs and a lot of repetitiveness (compare to, say, Bloodlines or Night Road. I have eighty-five hours on Night Road and there’s still stuff I haven’t seen!), so I can’t even just… rush it through up to the meeting with the touchstones on the third play. Nope. Gotta finish it :-\

Final rating: 6/10

8/10 characters, 9/10 atmosphere, 8/10 story aside from ending, 3/10 story ending, 2/10 replayability. Final consensus: get it on major sale if you can, otherwise, you might as well just watch an LP. I might do that instead of doing a third run, although I at least want to do a second.

I ended up revising that 6/10 to 5.5/10 after finishing all runs and getting the achievements just out of how goddamn repetitive it was. So, how does Shadows measure up?

Absolutely continued with all the things I enjoyed about CoNY (characters, atmosphere, and writing), and of the bits I hated (cookie cutter protagonists, lack of real choice, repetitiveness, the godawful ending), every single part has been completely improved.

Instead of three fledglings so similar they even have the same internal thoughts, we have Julia, who’s got such a distinct voice that she becomes the most memorable game protag I’ve seen in years, and I’m including non-VtM games in this. This is absolutely her game, and it’s just... absolutely fascinating to read and watch.

Related - actual real choices. There are five key choices that determine the ending, and every single one has actual consequence in-game. You get different dialogue. Different introspection. Different philosophies. And this carries across - if Julia believes Agathon is alive, she’s more optimistic about her relationship with Dakota, too. And of course, both endings are completely distinct and incredibly written - the ‘good’ ending where Julia gives in to her most Lasombra instincts, plays the game, wins it, gets power and respect at the expense of her humanity and avoiding all those wraiths... or the ‘bad’ ending when she listens to her morals, reconciles with Dakota, and leaves for California, uncertain, but hopeful.

Not a lot of repetitiveness. Yes, by design, you’ll probably do two playthroughs. The main plot is much the same, but there are enough options there to get multiple dialogue options and stuff. And for the little sidequests, you can actually get all in with just the two playthroughs, only repeating like... two, I think. Still, I wasn’t feeling actively bored like I was midway through my second run of CoNY!

Loved seeing more in-depth backstory and development for the coterie members. Agathon’s section was particularly fascinating, literally getting into his head.

And just. Atmosphere and music is so, so good.

Final rating: 9/10. Thank you, Draw Distance, you hit it out of the park.

[fallenxspirit]

Oh boy nothing like Rose Discourse in the morning but anyway here's my tidbit in the whole thing since I'll be writing an NPC post on my take of Rose, and such. Please note that this does not mean I hate Rose's character, I actually love him very much! Also note this is my personal reflect on Rose/ the Rose that is canon to SPIRIT'S storyline and no where else. Thanks.

So Rose isn't genuinely villainous in my opinion, but I also never really thought he was. A good man. I think he was trying to be, I think he did love Galar much more than he cared for his own personal safety. But I also think Rose was incredibly selfish and used his love of Galar to justify those selfish acts. I think he was someone who always had a

"if it's for Galar, then I will do what I have to" mentality. I don't think Rose was inheriently good or evil. But he was someone who gave into personal vice a little more often than he should. And frankly I do use Peony's rare league card description for this mindset as well. Maybe Peony and Rose do just have a relationship that's strained because of favoritism in their family. Maybe Peony quit being champion because he knew how selfish Rose could actually be with people. I also think he was someone who suffered HEAVILY from a hero complex.

But also, Rose has always been an environmentalist in my mind. One who, even as Chairman, has had his claims about the danger to Galar's future ignored.

And in my canon, the Darkest Day happens for three reasons. 1. By a certain point, Eternatus was in Rose's hand and amping up both his selfishness and hero complex. 2. As far as Rose knew, the energy crisis was 10 years away, not thousands. Because one of his scientists lied to him and gave him false results just to get him to stop pestering them about it. 3. He brought these issues to attention, and was told to wait on it one too many times. Cause in my mind, the dialogue between Rose and Leon went a little more like this after Leon requested they wait until after the Championship match.

"Tell me Leon, did I ever tell you how much I hate that 'lets wait for it' mentality? The constant amounts of times that people have said. 'oh it's a thousand years away. Oh it's 20 years away. Oh it's 10 years away. Let's save the problem for tomorrow. And we'll keep saying that until we have no tomorrow's left.

Humans are creatures of habit, Leon. I understand that very much, have all I have my own morning routines and business habits I fall into everyday. And if something disrupts them, it upsets me greatly. But I'm worrying that you're beginning to develop a bad habit, throwing yourself into this 'lets wait till tomorrow' idea. What excuses will you continue to make, Leon?

What happens if you lose tomorrow, will you say "oh please Chairman Rose, the new champion doesn't know what they're doing yet. Let's wait a few more days. When that time comes, you will say 'Oh sorry Chairman, I've made plans with my family. Tomorrow.' then the day comes and you will say 'One more day Chairman, I have a date with someone very important to me. The next day comes and it's 'Hop is sleeping, Chairman. Can we please wait until he wakes up tomorrow?' There will always be an excuse for another day, why the stars don't align for you to help me and Galar.

Until we have no more chances. Until your bad habits cost us everything. The possibility of a new champion isn't as important as the well-being of Galar. You, your family, and your significant other will always have chances to see each other after we're done. Hop can sleep after the day is over. I will grant you this one tomorrow, Leon. But no more after that. No more waiting. I am truly growing sick of it."

So basically my idea is Rose was trying to do good, and things got really fucked up. The Darkest Day was more destructive than even he realized, more of Galar's citizens were hurt and lost than he expected. Which is why he chose to go to jail, because he saw he almost destroyed something he had been trying to protect.

Note he doesn't have excuses for certain things, like what happened with Bede. Which is again, just due to Rose being selfish and trying to raise a hero for the purpose of defeating and capturing Eternatus. Bede was meant to be a back up in case Leon failed, and things spiraled down from there.

And on that note, no Spirit doesn't like Rose. He honestly never really has due to some own personal bias in his past. And frankly he had no reason to start liking Rose after the incredibly traumatic event he, Gloria, Hop, and Leon had to go through because of his misguided attempt to save Galar. My muses feelings on Rose obviously do not reflect mine at all.

Anyway that's all I gotta say about Chairman Rose lol

[dreamonhunters]

and i can tell just what you want, you don’t want to be alone

no trigger warnings!

my half of a trade with the legendary @fakenewsies ! dylan i literally love you with all my heart and i really hope you enjoy angsty yearning new misfits redfinch because i sure do!

read it here on ao3!

The room is silent, aside from the sound of someone clicking away at a keyboard. Finch likes to work in the dark. There’s a soft turquoise glow beneath his hands, occasionally blocked out by his fingers flashing across the keys. Artificial light from his monitor acts as a primary light source. Albert always scolds him, tells him he’ll strain his eyes. End his own career before he hits twenty-one. Finch ignores him.

“Hey, asshole. It’s 2am. Go to bed,” a bleary voice mumbles from somewhere behind him. Finch lifts his head just a little, enough to indicate he heard. He doesn’t reward his visitor with any kind of verbal response. Maybe if he stays quiet, the other boy will drop it and go back to bed.

Instead, there’s a quiet sigh from behind him. Footsteps. The chair next to him is now occupied by a taller boy, ginger hair gleaming dully in the blue light. His whiskey-coloured eyes flicker over Finch’s work in vague interest, but they both know he doesn’t understand the lines of code covering the screen.

“Go to bed,” Finch murmurs, eyes flicking between his screen and Albert’s face.

The screen illuminates the high points of his face, making those sharp cheekbones seem all the more dangerous. Albert’s eyes linger for just a little too long.

“Ain’t that what I just told you to do?” he teases, although there’s no real heat in his voice. If you listen close enough, there’s maybe a note of concern.

Finch doesn’t know why Albert acts surprised. He doesn’t sleep at night. It’s the most productive time of day. That’s something he’ll maintain until the end of time and nobody could convince him otherwise. No distractions, aside from the one sitting beside him right now.

“I got work to do,” Finch answers simply, taking another sip from the can beside him. One of those ridiculous energy drinks Albert got him hooked on. If they didn’t help him work so well, he might find it within him to be annoyed. “You gonna sit there all night?”

Albert yawns, stretches his arms about above his head. Shifts in the chair. That trademark smirk curls his lips upwards. “Sure,” he answers. “Why not?”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” he tries again. He’s not really trying to get rid of Albert. Not properly. There are much more effective methods for getting people out of his workspace, and those often involve the pistol strapped to his hip. Finch doesn’t take interruptions very well.

“I do. But I don’t have anything important planned. You know how it is,” Albert supplies. Drawls a little on the word important. “So I can afford to stay up a little.”

With a heavy sigh, Finch finally turns away from his work. He doesn’t shut off the computer just yet. Keeping up the pretence Albert is actually going to leave is another thing Finch won’t address. But it’s impossible to concentrate with the boy by his side, and he knows Albert won’t let him anyway.

“Fine. Whaddya want, idiot?” Finch relents, although his tone lacks any venom.

“You,” Albert answers, simple and quiet.

They play this game every day. Albert disrupts Finch’s work, that intention is clear as day, but they don’t really talk. Albert has a million people he can go to for a quick chat, and Finch isn’t one of them. Never will be one of them. There’s a little exchange back and forth, and Finch is kissing Albert, biting him, and Albert just grins against his lips. Takes whatever he can get. The next day, it’s the same. Nothing ever happened. Just part of their daily routines, a rite of passage they can’t rid themselves of. Finch can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it.

“That’s what you always say,” he snarks back, rolling his eyes. No fun if he doesn’t put up a fight, Finch always says.

If Albert hears him, he doesn’t grace that comment with a response. Instead he changes the subject, the ghost of a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“You remember when we met?”

Of course he does. How Finch could forget is a better question. But he can’t answer too quickly, because then Albert will know he thinks about him, and that ruins the whole illusion. So the resulting silence is prolonged, while Finch pretends to mull over the finer details.

Albert’s been part of the New Misfits movement far longer than Finch — sometimes he jokes about being born into it, having no other choice in life. His father has been Head Engineer since before the boy can remember. It only makes sense for his son to follow in his footsteps, and be handed a job as soon as he’s capable of building the required tech.

Finch, however, didn’t really know about the movement until he turned eighteen. Every child in Eastgate is fed the regulated propaganda throughout their school lives, even though Finch has always been just a little suspicious of how the most impoverished city in the country was now home to the most cutting-edge technology. Something is just a little too good to be true. There’s an ulterior motive somewhere.

Nobody questions it, though. To go against Cyber Mind Corporations is essentially treason.

Some kids get lucky, though. The job of the New Misfits’ recruiters is simple — shatter the rose-tinted glasses placed over their eyes, and hit the youngest, most impressionable members of society with a large dose of reality.

Finch feels like he cut himself on the glass. To this day, he credits a certain Jack Kelly with saving his life. The young boy makes him understand, promises him something better. Cyber Mind’s need for totalitarian control leaves no room for individuality — or even free thought. It was mind control, Jack tells him, and Finch can’t find a reason to argue back. The evidence is damning.

He accepts the invitation in a heartbeat.

When he first arrives, Jack explains something about moving him into a new building. State-of-the-art, completed shortly before Finch’s arrival. He isn’t really listening, though. He doesn’t care, truthfully, so long as he has somewhere quiet to work, as promised.

Albert more or less stumbles into his life three days later.

Originally, the young technician is sent over to help fix up his office. Someone else called out sick, and Albert’s the only person available. Other excuses in that vein. As ever, he doesn’t really listen to the string of apologies and explanations. Patience is a virtue that simply evades Finch. If it were up to him, this would have been done days before.

Even despite his best efforts to ignore it, Finch is drawn to him. He’s like a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else he’s met. Bright ginger hair, eyes that sparkle when he laughs, broad shoulders. Finch wants to hate him. Wants to slap that stupid smile off his face. He also wants to know how those hands would feel wrapped around his neck, just a little too much pressure. Albert works quickly, a cheeky grin plastered across his face as he cracks the occasional joke with enthusiasm you couldn’t possibly fake. He really isn’t the type of person Finch actively seeks out, and yet it’s simply impossible to deny the connection when you first encounter your soulmate.

(If you believe in soulmates, that is. Finch doesn’t.)

That’s how Finch eventually finds himself here, curled in an oversized chair with multiple brightly-lit monitors surrounding him, and the sound of another person breathing beside him. It’s quiet, almost serene, and he likes it that way.

Gradually, hushed conversations turn into fleeting touches and stolen kisses. They both pretend like they don’t want it, they’re not interested, they don’t need it, but there’s something addictive in the way their bodies press together in a darkened room. Albert’s lips are always slightly chapped as he kisses Finch. Strong hands on his waist. Warm. Inviting. He stays up through the night just to be beside the hacker. Finch can never bring himself to make Albert leave.

Most nights, they simply lay beside each other. Albert’s arm drapes lazily over Finch’s torso, tracing nonsensical patterns across pale skin. There’s a strange intimacy in simply lying beside someone, feeling the rise and fall of their chest. The sound of his heartbeat softly thudding when Finch lays his head down on his sternum. Albert’s fingertips are just a little calloused.

Sometimes Albert takes him apart, however he damn wants, while Finch whispers his name over and over like some sacred mantra. Funny, because Finch never really saw the point in religion. The boy above him could be one, though. Those nights are few and far between, nothing more than a carnal need, and the next day it’s almost forgotten. Almost. Those events are eternally emblazoned into both boy’s memories. Dark marks on Finch’s hips and shoulders and neck serve as a more visual reminder. There are some things you just don’t forget.

More often than not, they just sleep. Pure and simple as that. Finch wakes up the following afternoon alone, but that suits him just fine. Albert has his own life. The world doesn’t revolve around Finch.

Finch wouldn’t say he’s in love. Love is too complicated for such a simple arrangement. Words like that have a tendency to ruin. He just enjoys having Albert around. Maybe that’s the answer he finds himself searching for when he rolls onto the cold side of the bed in the afternoon sunlight. Thinking too hard makes his head hurt.

On that note, he’s been thinking too long. He should answer Albert’s question.

“Yeah. I do.”

There’s a smile on Albert’s face when Finch finally refocuses. Familiar. “I’m glad.”

Finch snorts. “You’re fucking weird.”

“Just the way you like me,” he answers. Always has a quick remark resting on the tip of his tongue.

“Who said I like you?” Finch challenges, bringing his long legs up to cross them beneath him. He considers switching the monitor off. No, not yet — that would fuel Albert’s ego just a little too much.

Albert just smiles. The fondness travels right to those damn eyes, the colour of honeyed whiskey when the light hits them just right. “Call it a sixth sense,” he replies. Finch can’t decide if he wants to slap him or kiss him.

Finch settles for rolling his eyes, shifting again to get comfortable. “What made you ask that?”

“Been two years today since you got here,” Albert explains. “Thought we should celebrate.”

Two years? Had it really been that long? Finch doesn’t bother to keep track of things like that. Anniversaries are far too sentimental. They’ll ruin a perfectly good day when those events inevitably become twisted by trauma.

“Damn,” he laughs, although the small smirk twisting his lips upwards betrays him. “Didn’t think I'd last that long.”

“You shut up,” Albert groans, reaching out to swat Finch’s hand away from the keyboard. Maybe he’ll stop working. “Shut the fuck up. Such a fuckin’ attention whore.”

“Any excuse to call me a whore,” Finch answers breezily, finally leaning forward to shut off the monitor. A silent invitation. He’s grown bored of the small talk, in that way he so often does. The sudden darkness makes Finch’s breath catch in his throat.

It’s practically pitch black, aside from a few coloured lights that glow dimly, to indicate the machines surrounding them still work as they should. Not quite enough to see properly, mind. He hears shifting from beside him.

Albert’s hand comes to rest on his hip, pulling Finch closer. “C’mere,” he breathes, and Finch doesn’t resist. He lets Albert guide him into his lap, those calloused hands on his body, straddling his waist. Lips press hard against his own, and suddenly Finch can’t focus on anything but the way Albert grips his waist, how their lips slot together messily.

“Mm, Al,” he mumbles, pulling away slightly. Their foreheads rest together, and Finch’s eyes glisten with something incomprehensible in the low light.

“Yeah?” Albert whispers. His lips ghost over Finch’s again. It takes everything not to pull him back in again, kiss him with a desperate passion that burns somewhere deep within Finch. He likes keeping Albert at an arm’s length, always on his toes. Doing that would only provide him with the answers to questions Finch would never hear.

So instead he rests his head on Albert’s shoulder, face tilted slightly so he can mouth at the boy’s throat. Normally he’ll bite, sink his teeth in until he can taste the first hint of blood on his tongue. Likes the way Albert’s skin tastes. Albert groans, and Finch feels the vibrations in his throat. Feels good. Brings him back to the reality of the situation. It’s the only answer he’ll provide, because he doesn’t want to think up a verbal response.

“We should head to bed,” Albert suggests, although any sense of urgency is lacking. They’re both happy to remain here a little longer.

“Whatever you want.” Finch replies sleepily, nipping at the column of Albert’s neck. He makes no movement to leave, and Albert doesn’t seem inclined to, either.

The silence drags on a little longer, and he listens to Albert’s heartbeat. Feels the way he breathes, how his fingers instinctively trace the sharp ridges of Finch’s spine. Neither boy moves.

“Do you love me?”

That question startles Finch, although he doesn’t make it obvious. If Albert was paying enough attention, he might notice the way Finch’s breath seems to falter a little. It’s unlikely he would.

“I dunno. Love’s weird.”

It’s not the answer Albert wants, but it’s the answer he’s getting. This is not the time for soul-searching, or trying to find answers Finch isn’t sure he wants to hear. Love is complex and messy and ends in flames. He’s never seen the point in labels.

Albert hides his reaction well. Doesn’t even flinch. Honestly, it’s almost impressive.

“Is that a no, then?” he asks, and if he’s trying to cover the hurt in his voice it’s slightly less successful.

“Did I say that?” Finch responds. No, he didn’t. “I said I don’t know. Not really an easy question, is it?”

“S’ppose not.”

The silence isn’t awkward, but it’s not as comfortable as usual. Finch shifts a little, loosens his grip around Albert’s neck. He doesn’t pull away completely, because that would send all the wrong messages, but he raises his head enough to meet those irritatingly beautiful eyes.

“Are you mad?” Finch asks, after just a few moments too long. The question lacks any kind of concern, because he can work that answer out for himself.

Albert hesitates. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because you’re in love with me.”

“I never said that.”

“Love is stupid.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

Finch laughs, and pulls himself upright. Slots their lips together. It’s not love, it never has been, but it’s something close. Albert reciprocates, because he always does.

“Don’t love me,” Finch whispers. “There are better ways to waste your time.”

Albert smirks, spotting the challenge in Finch’s eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. That ego’s gettin’ too big for you.”

And just like that, the moment is gone. Albert blinks, and the weight on his lap vanishes. Finch stands right in front of him, a cocky smirk playing at his lips. Albert could kill him.

“Bedtime,” he instructs, the lilting quality of his voice akin to laughter. Finch doesn’t laugh very often. It’s the best Albert can get. “Don't want you oversleeping tomorrow.”

When Finch decides to play difficult, Albert surrenders. It’s the one battle he can’t win. So he relents, gets to his feet. Sitting in the same position for so long only rewards him with cramped muscles. Absently, he wonders how Finch copes. He stretches.

“Who’s place?” he asks. Finch doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, already thumbing through a colourful keychain for his room key. It’s a slim plastic keycard, black with turquoise trim, the most easily distinguishable key on the whole keychain. Honestly, he’s fiddling with the keys to waste time.

“Mine’s closer.” Finch says. Albert doesn’t say anything, just follows close behind. Part of him wants to put his hands on Finch’s hips and draw the boy back, nipping at the nape of his neck. Biting. See what sounds he can draw from him.

But he doesn’t. He lets Finch walk away, and for a few moments he just stands there. Watches. That boy is a force to be reckoned with, in more ways than one. Albert loves that.

“You just gonna stand there?” he challenges, glancing over his shoulder to smirk at Albert with a cocky glint in his eyes. He’s got the upper hand now, and he knows it. That’s the thing with them. It’s like a constant power struggle, although nobody ever truly puts up a fight. Maybe it’s more like an involuntary exchange of power.

Albert just smiles back at him, no teeth, and lets Finch lead him into the darkened corridor. Most people would be asleep by now. Normal people would be asleep by now. In fact, they’re probably the only people still awake in this area of the complex. It’s nice.

Finch’s apartment is close to his office, located just round the corner towards the right wing of the building. Their hands brush against each other every so often as they walk, shoulders bumping together playfully. Albert doesn’t talk, and Finch has nothing to respond to. The silence is comfortable.

“Hey,” Albert murmurs, as Finch slides the card into the reader. It buzzes softly, and the lock clicks open.

Finch hums his acknowledgement, hitting a switch by the door as he enters and letting the bright, artificial lights sting his eyes. Takes a moment to adjust. It’s a small apartment, really — every member’s quarters were designed to accommodate their every living need, and little more than that. He’s not a man of material things, though, and minimalism suits him just fine.

Albert lets the door close behind them, automatic lock sliding into place. Listens to the little click. He didn’t expect a verbal answer, really. So he continues, “Are you happy here?”

“Loaded question,” Finch murmurs, keys clattering onto plastic as he passes a side table. Dark eyes are now fixating entirely on the neon cityscape visible through the obnoxiously large windows dominating the outer wall of his apartment. He won’t look at Albert. “Define ‘happy’.”

“Okay.” Albert smirks, leaning against the nearest wall. He observes the way Finch’s eyes flicker from building to building, taking in the lights. Eastgate always looks prettier by night. “Fulfilled, I guess. Like you’re doin’ something useful.”

Finch seems to consider those words, then nods slowly. His eyes never leave the window. He misses the stars, bleached out by the brightness of the city below. “It’s pretty obvious we’re doing something useful. Isn’t this whole thing about freeing people?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the whole point, but you’re…” he trails off, searches for the right words. “...difficult to read.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Finch mutters, but he does. Vulnerability is a weakness. So he builds his walls high and answers everything with the same set of generic responses, and it keeps people off his back. They can think what they like of him, truthfully, because Finch doesn’t care. Opinions get you shot.

Albert lets out a soft sigh, resignation colouring the sound. If Finch doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. There’s no way around that. “We should sleep,” he suggests, completely changing tack.

Finch doesn’t respond until a pair of arms wrap around his middle, the weight on his shoulder familiar as Albert rests his head there. It’s almost enough to tear his eyes away from the world outside. He leans into that familiar touch, exhales slowly. Albert’s chest is warm against his back.

“Do you trust me?” Albert asks.

In another time, maybe trust is a substitute for love. Finch isn’t too sure. There’s a strange feeling in his chest, a dull ache but a bright warmth at the same time. It’s only ever present when Albert is there, but Finch could never tell him. He doesn’t admit to things like that, not when there’s no good reason to.

“Almost.”

It’ll do, for now. It’s been two years, and still Finch hasn’t let his guard down entirely. He’s not sure why Albert’s surprised.

“Alright.”

And then the moment is gone, and Finch changes the topic with practised ease. “Come to bed,” he murmurs, hand slipping easily into Albert’s. It’s almost unfair how well their hands fit together. He wishes he didn’t like it so much.

He lets the smaller boy lead him to the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head as he does so. Finch does the same, and when Albert turns around there’s a pair of lips pressing hard against his own. Thinly veiled desperation. Hands fall to grip his waist, and Finch’s arms loop around Albert’s shoulders.

When they break apart, Finch’s eyes are shiny and his lips are swollen. “I don’t love you, y’know,” he whispers, and Albert drops his head to nip at the column of his neck.

“I know,” Albert breathes, hot breath ghosting against his skin. “I don’t care.”

A soft, short laugh escapes Finch, and he lets Albert push him down onto the bed. He can taste skin between his teeth, the slight saltiness of sweat. Strong arms tangle around his slim waist, teeth painting dark stains across pale flesh. Albert holds him tight, the way he always does, and Finch feels a strange sense of completion.

It’s not long after that he falls asleep, head resting on Albert’s chest and one of the boy’s strong arms wrapped tight around his waist. The gentle thud of a heartbeat, the sound of somebody breathing, the occasional rustling of movement in his sleep.

Strangely intimate.

When Finch wakes up, the afternoon sunlight is streaming through the cracks beneath his door. He never closed the blinds. With a yawn, he rolls over, onto the cold side of the bed. He’s alone again.

[ragequitthatshit]

down in flames : sweet pea x reader (chapter 1)

(gif not mine)

Fandom: Riverdale (season 3)

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Andrews!Reader

Warnings: violence, swearing, underage drinking, mention of attempted rape (in a later chapter which can be skipped), angst, gross fluff 

Summary: On his first day of elementary school, one of the bigger kids had pushed Archie to the floor and skinned his knee. You had promised then and there you would protect your brother from everyone and everything in this world.

Now in high school, your main concern should have been that the boy you liked was sleeping with someone else. Instead, you were researching how to cover up a murder and discovering the use of alcohol as a coping method.

Riverdale wasn't safe for anyone these days.

You knew Archie was scared. You knew he felt guilty. You knew he just wanted this all to be over. You didn’t know he’d plead guilty and take the deal of two years in juvenile detention.

The shock you felt jolt through your body left you reeling, bolting from your chair in a reflex to protect, but there was nothing you could do. Next to you, Sweet Pea clasped your wrist and gently tugged you back into your seat. Clinging to him, you absentmindedly noted that you were digging your nails into his exposed forearm, but you were too busy trying to breathe to stop yourself. 

Archie looked accepting, resigned to his fate, but it was the look on your dad’s face that broke your heart. As Archie was led away in handcuffs, he spared you a tight smile that you couldn’t return, tears dripping from your eyes instead. Leaving Betty to console a distraught Veronica, you rushed to your dad, throwing your arms around his waist and burying your face into his shoulder as he clung on to you just as tightly. 

Much later that night, you found yourself sat in a booth right at the back of Pop’s with Betty, Jughead and Veronica. None of you spoke, merely picking at your food and milkshakes, lost in your own thoughts.

It was a strange feeling, like it wasn’t really happening. This was Archie, who got in trouble in elementary school for fighting bullies on behalf of the smaller kids. Archie who protected his family and his friends with everything in him. Archie who loved pancakes and hated mushrooms and wore odd socks - your little brother. It didn’t matter that there was barely 10 minutes difference in age, you still insisted you were elder. 

You were polar opposites in some ways - Archie was reckless where you were methodical, easily manipulated where you had trouble trusting anyone. He could be stupid sometimes, making rash decisions like starting the red circle or chasing after gunmen, but he was good at heart, and there was no way in hell he could ever kill someone. 

And now he was locked up in a place with a bad reputation and you hoped to god that if nothing else, the serpent tattoo would grant him some reprise - he’d need comrades in there even if he wouldn’t have friends. 

You kept opening your mouth to speak, uncomfortable with the silence, but what were you supposed to say? 

Luckily, you were saved by the ring of the bell as the front door was pushed open. In walked a crowd of leather, and you jumped up to greet them. 

Toni was the first to rush forward and hug you, followed by Cheryl and Fangs. They joined the group in the booth as Sweet Pea analysed you with his dark eyes before pulling you into his chest. The familiar smell of leather and smoke was comforting, and you clutched to his jacket for a moment to ground yourself. 

When you stepped back, you quickly wiped at your eyes to rid yourself of any tears and tried to smile up at the boy. He looked concerned, and you knew that your pathetic attempt at fooling him into thinking you were ok wouldn’t work. Still, when he asked if you were alright, you nodded and turned quickly to squash back into the now-crowded booth. Sweet Pea took a seat by your side, leg pressed against yours, and arm draped over the booth behind you. Over the course of the next hour, as the group swapped back and forth between discussing pointless subjects and possible plans to clear Archie’s name or break him out, the warmth of Sweet Pea kept you grounded, and you both pretended not to notice when his phone lit up with Josie’s name several times, instead he turned the device face-down and moved somehow even closer. 

You couldn’t even find it in you to feel guilty.

Despite your dad’s hesitation, you decided to go back to school with the others. It was funny in a sad sort of way that you usually looked for any excuse not to have to go, and then when you had one, you didn’t want it. You just couldn’t stand another day at home. It was so empty and quiet, just you and Vegas, who’d taken to lying on the floor of Archie’s room and whining. 

School wasn’t much better though with all the looks, the whispers. At first it upset you, but a couple of hours in and it was rapidly pissing you the hell off. The second the bell rang for free period, you stormed through the hallways, earphones in and scowling as you threw yourself down into a chair in the corner of the student lounge. Everyone kept their distance, casting glances at your furious scribbling before quickly retreating. Eventually, the bell rang again for lunch and you knew your peace was going to soon be disrupted as people streamed into the room. Mere minutes later, you felt someone looming over you, and quickly grabbed the hand that crept into your peripheral. 

“If you pull out my earphones, I will pull out your lungs.”

Sweet Pea merely laughed and leant against the desk you were hunched over, Fangs by his side flipping through the text book you’d been taking notes from. Knowing it was hopeless, you rolled your eyes to the ceiling before fixing them both with a glare.

“I’m trying to work, what do you two idiots want?”

“For you to pull the stick out of your ass and come sit with us,” Sweet Pea replied with an easy smirk, Fangs snorting in amusement as he passed you your book back. Your glare quickly shot to the shorter boy, who adopted an innocent look and held his hands in the air.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t say it!”

Huffing, you stood and shoved your belongings back into your bag.

“Drop dead, Fogarty.”

You spun on your heel and headed for the couches to squish into an armchair with Kevin, ignoring the indignant splutter and deep laughter of the boys behind you. Immediately after you sat down, Veronica leant towards you with her usual determined look. 

“So, this football game that Archie’s planning for the juvie boys, what do you think? Want to come and cheer him on with us?” Noting your arched brow of confusion, she elaborated. “Archiekins was saying that the guys in there needed a pep rally more than most, so what better way to raise their spirits than with a good show? The Vixens are practicing the routine tonight ready for Thursday. Join us?”

You wrinkled your nose and gave Veronica a weird look as she waited for your answer.

“Are you asking me to dance like a slut in front of my twin?”

As everyone else laughed, Veronica gave you an unimpressed look at the teasing smile on your face.

“Ok, ok, I’ll take that as a no.”

Grinning, you turned your eyes to Fangs.

“I know someone else who would look great in a mini skirt though.”

Never one to turn down a bet, it wasn’t long before things had escalated and Fangs decided to don one of the cheer uniforms and run around the school in it. His conclusion that he enjoyed the freedom and the breeze that came from a skirt kept you giggling the rest of the day.

Archie was a week into juvie, and already he looked like shit. He was pale and tired, and as a Serpent you had enough experience with fighting to know that he couldn’t sit normally because he was bruised as hell. Concern flooded your face, and you spared the guard a quick look before leaning closer to your brother.

“Arch, who did this?”

Archie looked around them, noting the other prisoners who sat close enough to hear all seemed to be too busy to listen. He turned back around, staring down at his hands instead of you.

“It-” he started, only to quickly close his mouth and shake his head, “it doesn’t matter.”

Glaring at him, you ground out his name in a warning tone. Knowing you weren’t going to drop it, he sighed heavily and leaned in close. 

“Ghoulies,” he mumbled, only meeting your eyes for a second as thunder thrummed in your bones.

“Those fucking sons of bitches!” you spat, hands balling into fists. “What about the Serpents, are they protecting you?”

Archie opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get a chance as yells rang out, an inmate and their guest throwing punches at one another across the room. The inmates were herded to the far wall as the guards called for the end of visits, ushering you and the other visitors towards the exit. A quick hug and a demand that he stay safe, and you were all but shoved out of the room. You were furious as you began the drive home, hands clenching the steering wheel so tight you stopped being able to fully feel your fingers. 

The Ghoulies had been a problem ever since you’d joined the Serpents, and you had always hated them. Now that they were after your brother? No way were you about to let that slide.

Instead of going home, you’d gone straight to Jughead with an intense need to rant before you exploded. With an agreement that something had to be done, you decided to brainstorm possible ideas the next day after school, and you left the trailer slightly calmer than you had arrived. 

Nothing ever got to be done regarding the juvie situation, as three weeks then went by without anyone being able to see Archie. You and your dad were angry and fearful, unaware of what was happening to him. The Warden’s claims of Archie starting a riot were bullshit, and you all knew it. You were curled up on the sofa watching Game of Thrones reruns as your dad met with his lawyer when your phone buzzed with a call from Veronica.

Intrigued, you quickly answered, and as soon as you heard the name Penny, you were stuffing on your jacket and trainers with the promise you’d be at the speakeasy in 10. Once there, Veronica quickly explained Penny’s offer of protection and the following shipment of Jingle Jangle, as well as her belief that her father was behind it, and her, Cheryl and Toni’s  storming of the drug lab at the Whyte Worm. 

“So you blackmailed your father into backing off, what do you need from me?”

Veronica fixed you with a smile, rounding the bar to hand you a glossy card invitation.

“To come to opening night. Not only do you have to be there as a friend, but also I have a feeling Penny might come sniffing around with threats - we both know she isn’t what you’d call loyal and I wouldn’t put it past her to try and pull something.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you stared at the card in your hand, raising your gaze to meet Veronica with a sly smile.

“I need to speak to her about a Ghoulie infestation anyway. I’ll be there.”

“Excellent! Then there’s just one more thing,” Veronica smiled widely, casting a raised eyebrow at your scuffed trainers and ripped jeans. “Wear a dress.”

That night, La Bonne Nuit was packed out with the younger residents of Riverdale. Josie was singing, drinks were flowing, and everyone was dressed to suit the 20s decor. A black cocktail dress and heels had you fitting in nicely, and you were feeling pretty good as you spent the evening laughing with friends. 

You stayed on alert though, keeping an eye out for Penny or Ghoulies sent to cause trouble. Sweet Pea, Fangs and Jughead were doing the same, keeping a watch on the entryway as they mingled. You were sat in a booth chatting to Betty when you felt eyes on you. A quick glance over the blondes shoulder and you caught Sweet Pea turning back to Fangs to whisper something. They seemed to be having a heated discussion, some stupid disagreement knowing them, but as you carried on talking to Betty you realised that as they talked, the boys swapped between looking at you and looking at Josie. 

You shook off the weirdness, getting lost in anecdotes as more people came to join you, until a hand on your shoulder had you looking up to meet Veronica’s steely gaze. Excusing yourself, with a quick reassurance to Betty that everything was fine, you let Veronica pull you by the hand through the crowd to the bar. There, Reggie looked pissed as he hung up the phone, and you looked at him expectantly.

“Penny’s just pulled up outside and I’m gonna guess she ain’t here for a burger.”

Sighing, you gave Reggie a nod, and beckoned for Veronica to follow you upstairs. On your way, you caught the questioning stare of Sweet Pea, and you cocked your thumb at Reggie in answer. He could explain, you needed to move. Steeling your expression into your ‘I know i’m short but im actually a tough gang member’ face, you pushed past the queue of people still waiting to get into the speakeasy and stalked outside to the car park. 

Illuminated by the light of the diner, Penny leant against her car, her cocky smirk instantly irritating you. Veronica stuck close by your side and, as you’d done several times before, you admired her tenacity. Still, she was out of her element, more used to the organised turn-taking style of mob business rather than the rough and tumble gang fights, so your priority was ensuring she got out of this unscathed. 

“What are you doing here, Penny? I thought I told you that your services were not required, as much as I appreciate the offer.”

Penny snorted at Veronica’s steady words, choosing not to heed the warning and instead pushed off the car and began to stroll towards the two of you. Despite her casual pace and crossed arms, you took a step forward to keep some distance between her and the girl behind you, wary of her intentions. 

Noticing your movement, Penny smiled sickly and stopped in her tracks, narrowed eyes watching you with a dangerous glint.

“My, my, Lodge, you sure are a lucky girl,” the blonde began in a mocking tone, “you always seem to have a little Andrews guard dog yapping around your heels.”

Not in the mood for Penny and her games, your fingers reached for the pocket that wasn’t there, then clenched into fists, teeth gritted as you realised your knife was in your jacket pocket, which was still in the cloakroom.

“Listen, bitch, you’re not welcome here, so get the hell out. Veronica and her speakeasy are protected by the Serpents, so go do your dirty business elsewhere.” 

Your sharp tone and pissed off expression seemed to rile up the older woman, and she took a step closer to square up to you.

“Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me what to do, ok little girl? I could 

you with my pinkie. So how about you and the princess here show me some respect before I have one of my guys on the inside slit your brothers throat.”

You barely heard Veronica’s gasp or the bell above the door signalling someone exiting Pop’s over the rushing of blood in your ears. You didn’t feel yourself move, just felt a wave of total fury before your fist collided with Penny’s cheek. The blonde went sprawling onto the tarmac as you glared down at her, pain shooting up your arm and you learn down to grab the lapels of her jacket and tug her up to a half sitting position so you were face to face. 

“Go anywhere near my brother,” you whispered menacingly, “and you’re fucking dead.” 

Roughly releasing your grip, you stood and backed away as Penny pulled herself up from the ground, laughing as she wiped the trickle of blood from her mouth. 

“Oh, you have no 

what you’re messing with, but I promise you now, I’m gonna kill your bro with my bare hands.” 

You lunged forward, barely making it a step before strong arms pulled you back. Despite the vice grip of leather sleeves and tattooed hands, you still tried to fight free and get to Penny, all the emotions that had been building up for weeks begging to be set free. Either side of you, the Serpents appeared, Fangs half in front of you in a protective stance, and Jughead slouching cockily on your right. 

“You’re outnumbered, Penny, take the advice and get the hell out of here,” ordered the Serpent King, staring her down.

Penny didn’t respond at first, letting her eyes drift over the small group. Finally, with a cheery goodbye, and a smirk that spelled trouble directed at you, she stalked back to her car and made a speedy exit. You watched the lights disappear around the corner in silence, muscles going slack as Sweet Pea relaxed his grip on you. 

Everyone stayed quiet, and you took a few staggered breaths to try and release the adrenaline coursing through you. When you felt sufficiently calmer, you eased Sweet Pea’s hand off of your waist, squeezing his fingers quickly to quell the hard frown he was currently staring you down with. You turned to the others with a quick thank you, flexing your fingers experimentally to make sure you hadn’t damaged anything on Penny’s stupid smug face. You knew they were all staring at you, waiting for you to explode in anger from Penny’s words, and you couldn’t blame them. You had a notoriously short temper, and the strange calm you felt surprised even you. With one last look at the dots of blood on the ground, you avoided the gazes of your friends, striding straight past to head back inside and get a seriously strong drink. 

Exchanging concerned glances, the rest shortly followed, and spent the night on edge as they waited for you to snap.

Instead of snapping, you got wasted. 

It seemed to work, as you were no longer angry - you were stumbling around laughing your ass off instead. Despite the initial worry over your choice of distraction, everyone else had shortly started to drink with you in solidarity, which led to the Serpents and their Northside buddies crashing out of the front door of Pop’s and spilling into the car park way past closing time.

Cheryl and Toni were flirting, Sweet Pea, Jughead and Fangs were play fighting, and you had your arms linked with Kevin and Betty as you slurred through Mean Girls quotes in a competition of who knew the film best. At the corner you split ways to head home, leaving you with Jug, Betty and Sweet Pea. The couple quickly cosied up together, whispering, while you dropped back a few paces to link arms with Sweet Pea. Heaving a contented sigh, you lent your head right back to look up at the stars, and if you weren’t hanging on to the boy next to you for support, you’d be on your ass. 

“You know you live in the opposite direction, right?”

Sweet Pea’s eyes quickly darted to you when you spoke, as if he had been deep in thought. Smiling, he steered you around a lamppost.

“You think I’m gonna trust you walking home alone right now?” You turned to him, opening your mouth but he shot a pointed look at the couple in front of you and beat you to it. “And no, they don’t count, they wouldn’t notice if I got naked and started doing the Single Ladies dance.” 

You laughed unabashedly, prompting another grin from the usually sullen Serpent. 

You walked most of the way in silence, bid goodbye to the loved-up couple outside of your house, and now stood on your porch. The night was quiet, the house dark, and luckily you had sobered up enough in the cool night air to keep your voice low. 

“Thanks for walking me home, Sweets. And thanks for having my back earlier. You’re always there when I need you.” 

His face was gentle, lit softly by the porch light as his eyes searched your face.

“And you’re always there for me. We look out for each other - that’s what friends do, right?”

You felt a stab in your gut at the word ‘friends’, and you took a half-step back as you realized how close the two of you were. 

“Well, still, Penny’s gonna be out of my blood now and you didn’t have to risk being pulled into it, so thank you.” 

You gave him a hug, throat going tight at the feeling of his arms around you. Pulling back with a cough, you gave him a smile and murmured goodnight before twisting around to unlock your door. Before you could disappear inside, Sweet Pea grasped your wrist, tugging you gently to look back at him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t brush off my help and think I give a shit that sticking up for you could get me in trouble. I’ll protect you no matter what, even if it kills me, ok?”

You were stunned and speechless, stood gawping at him until it was his turn to mumble a farewell and stride down the pathway. Collecting yourself, you headed inside, and as you shut the door behind you, your eyes met Sweet Pea’s as he stood on the pavement in front of your house, waiting till you were safely inside before he left.

Leaning back against the cool wood of the front door, you slumped down onto the floor of your dark hallway, head in your hands.

“God, I’m so fucking screwed.”

[grapeicies]

8 Things 8 Years of Therapy Taught Me

(Working with a professional version)

1) STOP PUSSYFOOTING YOUR STRUGGLES AND PICK SOMETHING TO WORK ON.

It’s tempting to think that you can go into a therapist’s office with no game plan. 

It’ll go like this: you tell them something’s wrong, you clarify what you think is wrong, and they use their fancy degrees and licenses to eventually sus out what’s really wrong with you and come up with either a miracle medicine or say that one perfectly profound thing that will set your life into motion. 

Doesn’t work that way.

Your therapist is human. While they are more trained and more experienced with handling a wider variety of issues, struggles, and stories than the average person, they still cannot read your mind. They cannot understand how you tick by the short amount of time they have you for, especially when it’s weekly or monthly sessions. In order to get the best out of your sessions, you have to identify problem areas and at least start the process of brainstorming what direction you want to move in. 

Your therapist cannot fix you. They cannot force you to recover. 

You are always in charge of your own recovery. It doesn’t work otherwise.

Personally, I like following the CBT model and focusing on changing behaviors in order to change thoughts in order to change feelings. It feels less overwhelming to change my behaviors because my thoughts aren’t nearly as visible as how I behave and my feelings are involuntary reactions to my own thoughts and events happening around me. If you’re too overwhelmed to decide on just one behavior to work on, that’s what your therapist is there for. To guide you.

2) Do your fucking research.

Most people have the impression of therapy as an hour of you sitting on a chaise and talking the ear off of a nodding observer who takes notes and occasionally chimes in with profound bits of wisdom. Psychodynamic therapy is the most common form of therapy and it works for some people! It just doesn’t work for everyone. Know that if it didn’t work for you, there are still options out there for you to still try!

Just a short list of alternative therapies:

Behavioral Therapy

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy

Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (My personal favorite experience!)

Art Therapy

Music Therapy

EDMR Therapy

And many more

There are also different levels of care (from highest to lowest; commentary is US-centric!)

Inpatient [Individual or Group] (Split into Residential and Acute) Meant for short-term stabilization in a medical/hospital setting in an emergency ONLY. 

Partial Hospitalization (PHP) [Group] the step down from inpatient; after a person is stabilized, they are placed in 5 days-a-week, 8 hours-a-day care where they commute from their residence to their program in order to reintroduce structure to them after a major disruption in their life (like an inpatient stay). Typically, group sessions are paired with a team of providers who advise a personal care counselor who supervises your progress. A person can be referred to PHP as either an alternative to inpatient or as a transition from inpatient, depending on their level of need. If you need PHP and cannot afford it: ASK ABOUT HOSPITAL CHARITY CARE OPTIONS. (Lasts anywhere from 1 week to 2 months)

Intensive Outpatient (IOP) [Group] can either be a step down from IP/PHP or a preventative measure to keep a person out of the higher levels of care (because IP and PHP are expensive and will 100% increase your insurance rates, unfortunately). An IOP schedule operates anywhere from 2-4 days a week, depending on your level of need. Most IOP will start you at 3 days a week and either increase or decrease the number of days you attend depending on their assessment of your wellness. Like a PHP, an IOP will typically pair group sessions with a team of providers and a single PCC who supervises your progress. Also typically has charity programs! I know! I benefited from them! You have to ask though! (Lasts anywhere from 3 - 12 months)

Routine Outpatient Care (ROC) [Individual or Group] the most common form of care. Is often either the precursor to or the ending point of higher levels of care. This is where a person has the most autonomy in the maintenance of their health and is the most long-term form. Most therapists have a sliding scale for payment options. The sliding scale, unfortunately, does not apply if you’re paying with insurance. Make sure to talk to them or their secretary about your financial options and look into potentially free options. (Lasts however long you can afford it or however long you need it to)

Support Groups [Group] (Typically) free community resources meant to explore and process difficult feelings in the company of other people who have gone through similar things! It’s most often in the form of 12-step programs but I hate those so I like to make sure that people know they have other, secular options available! Like SMART! And Facebook Groups! And Discord Servers! Places that are specifically oriented for people who want to feel supported while they recover!

3) Be picky.

I cannot overstate this enough. View therapists like you view a job interview because you are LITERALLY hiring them to help you manage that bitch of a blob of electrified fat sitting in your cranium. You’re setting up for an uncomfortable process; it should be with someone you feel like you can grow to trust.

Ask them:

“How long have you been practicing? What demographic do you specialize with? What are your strengths as a therapist? What are your weaknesses? What methods do you use for treatment? Have you been through therapy yourself? How recently? How often do you seek an outside opinion? Describe your ideal patient. Have you treated patients with similar problems to the ones I have described? How often do you anticipate seeing me? Do you assign homework? How should I prepare for our first session?”

If you are non-white, LGBTQIA+, (previously or currently) poor, disabled, or part of any other marginalized group I urge you to also ask these questions:

“What is your experience level working with my community? How do you view my community? How do you or would you adapt your treatment methods to accommodate people like me? What options are available for me? Do you know someone who might be better suited for my needs?”

I cannot emphasize enough just how much it radically changed my life to find therapy options in my community. There are just some things that all the education in the world cannot compensate for. Someone who meets you on most of your community needs is better than someone who meets you on literally none of your community needs. Not having that connection, feeling like I was being humored but not heard, almost drove me away from therapy entirely.

4) Understand that you are wired to troubleshoot.

If you feel in your gut that something isn’t right, understand that something is not right.

Here’s the caveat though:

What you think is wrong may not actually be what’s wrong. 

Building an accurate intuition for troubleshooting is a gained skill. If your upbringing wired you for dysfunctional relationships and fed into cognitive distortions that overtake your view on situations, then something is still off and still needs to be addressed. Or you’re just able to recognize that you’re in a shitty place and your environment needs to change. Or a whole host of other things. Troubleshooting is RARELY a one-solution fix and it is even more rarely a black-and-white issue. There’s nuances to the gears that keep you going. It often takes time and care to assess and then get to work on everything. If you keep maintenance up on your system and take care of things before they get unmanageable, you will eventually be able to workshop your own solutions. Still, we’re here for professional help because it is beyond a point where we are able to take in on ourselves.

Sit there with your fucking check engine light and do not turn it off because someone tells you to. 

Shine on, you immensely well-developed system, you.

5) DO YOUR GODSDAMNED HOMEWORK.

If your program/therapist asks you to do it, do it. 

This isn’t school. 

You will not be punished for not doing your homework. (Except for potentially being told you are harboring a therapy resistant behavior and that there’s nothing the therapist can do for you as the crushing disappointment from realizing you flaked on something important yet again sets in)

You will also not be rewarded for doing it if you avoid it. (Increased sense of trust between you and your therapist! A sense of accomplishment for having worked on yourself and delivering on a promised result! Increased self-confidence and dopamine rush from feeling reliable!) 

Homework is the way that you show your therapist how committed you are to the process and how accountable you are for your own development. It helps you build trust with them and helps you form a helpful habit.

But, like, also don’t treat it like those last minute assignments you would fill out literally as the teacher was walking through the door. There’s no guideline to this. Your homework is for your personal development. If it’s too insufferable to do consistently, talk to your therapist and figure out something else that does work for you. You are the master of your own destiny. Your therapist is there to make sure you’re held accountable for your progress and to help guide you towards being the best version of yourself.

Fully involve yourself with your homework and make it something you want to do.

5) Be your own snitch.

SNITCH ON YOURSELF.

TELL YOUR THERAPIST EVERYTHING THAT IMPEDED YOUR PROGRESS THAT WEEK/MONTH.

COME INTO YOUR FIRST SESSION WITH A FULLY ITEMIZED LIST OF POTENTIALLY THERAPY RESISTANT HABITS YOU HARBOR, TEACH YOUR THERAPIST HOW TO RECOGNIZE THOSE BEHAVIORS IN YOUR ACTIONS, EXPRESS HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO OVERCOME THEM, AND BE ACCOUNTABLE FOR YOUR OWN PROGRESS.

Don’t know what a therapy resistant behavior looks like? Here’s a PsychCentral post.

Resistance is a natural part of recovery. Everyone has resistance within them to change or new thoughts/habits/ideas/whatever. It’s how your brain protects your identity from the things that would wreck it.

And you are here to recognize that your identity is a construct and you are the person who defines it. 

If you are working with the right therapist, being honest will not kill you.

Even if it means being referred to a new therapist. Even if it means being asked to leave your program/your therapist’s practice. Even if it lands you in the hospital. (All have happened to me! It sucked! A lot! It hurt! A lot! I cried! A lot! I lived! A lot! Honestly! I was better for it!)

There’s a level of catharsis that comes with looking your worst fears in the face and answering them with radical honesty. When you’re willingly and brutally honest about the obstacles that come with working with you and the severity of your needs, you are giving your therapist the opportunity to set their limits and boundaries. You are helping them help you by allowing them to be honest about how well they can work within the parameters your situation has set for them. While sometimes the answer is yes, they can help you, sometimes the answer is no, they can’t help you. You must be willing to accept both.

You have to be willing to show your underbelly if you want to get anywhere meaningful.

6) Document the fuck out of everything.

You know those sessions of therapy where you know something important happened that week between now and last session? The ones where you, for the life of you, cannot resummon the thoughts and feelings and words you had when you were stuck in the thick of it?

Document them. 

Sit there and learn how to document every little step, every tear, every smile, every awful, terrible thought. Make vlogs, write letters, fill up journals and scrapbooks and sketchbooks and playlists and write songs and make memes and do everything in your power to make sure you’re able to hold onto what’s important so you can present it to your therapist. 

While you are in therapy, learn how to TAKE NOTES. 

You do not have to take traditional notes (my preferred method was to doodle while we talked and use the images to trigger the memories of what we talked about when I reviewed them later because that’s how my brain works). Understand that you need a reminder and a way to access the information from your sessions later so you can keep doing the work outside of therapy.

Beyond the fact that it is satisfying as fuck to hold your progress in your hands, it is also important because your therapist cannot work with a shrug and an “It was alright. Nothing really happened.” They are not your friend. 

They are there to help you. Help them help you.

7) Learn when it’s time to buckle down and when it’s time to let go.

The hardest skill I had to learn when I was going through therapy was learning when to recognize “I am no longer growing” and then look my therapist in the face and say “Thank you for everything. I’ve learned everything I can learn. I need to go.” But I’ve also heard from people who say they’ve had the opposite problem: they don’t know how to stay. They don’t know when to say “I have things to learn from you and I want to learn them.”

Therapy is a professional venture. While you are building meaningful relationships, it is impossible to complete your journey while relying on the guidance of a single person AND a loose network of fleeting connections is not a support system. It is support soup. 

People need a support *network* constructed from the various enriching relationships they have built for themselves. Therapy is not an exception to this.

Do not be afraid to challenge yourself and explore why you feel the way you do and your emotional urges. Challenge why you feel the urge to run. Challenge why you feel fear when you think of leaving. Understand that when those feelings arise, your growth often lies on the other side of the opposite action.

8) Keep going.

Develop the capacity for grit.

In a society that benefits from your self-hatred and animosity towards the other, it is your radiance and your defiant capacity for love and empathy that is the true revolution.

You cannot change the world. You cannot change your family. You cannot change people.

Let yourself resist those truths and then accept them.

Commit to accepting them.

And then operate within the boundaries placed before you.

You can influence the world around you when you invest in yourself and the people around you. When you demand better for yourself and work for it, you embolden other people to want the same. You may not be able to feel the impact of the mark you will leave on the world when you do better and still you must have faith that your mark is made.

This post is my effort to shape the world I live in using the tools I built for myself. And just like every thought, every quote, every gesture, every conversation, every hug, every tear, and every smile carved and shaped me into the person I am today, I have one wish for everyone who reads this:

I hope for all of you to one day wake up and realize you are currently the best version of yourself that you have ever been.

And that you will only continue to get better.

8 things 8 Years of Recovery Taught me

[overlordjanefire]

“You aren’t autistic but”:

-“Why won’t you let me hug you? You said I could hug you yesterday.”

-“You lied to me! No, it doesn’t matter that you misintepreted the way I reacted to what you were saying/doing and that it was unintentional.”

-“You’ve already said that like 5 times! We get it wow.”

-“People don’t care about that thing you literally can’t seem to stop thinking about/mentioning, just talk about something elsez”

-“No I’m not MAD at you *eyeroll* why do you always ask that??”

-“Why do your jokes/style of humor always seem the same?? (Answer, when something gets a positive response ie: people laughing but not at you, it seems like a safe bet)

-*listens to a song on loop like 50 times, unable to stop*

-“YOU DON’T need to take so long to do that, I can do it in 5 minutes! Just do what I’m doing? Be faster, you clearly have no reapect for other people’s time!” (*Literally crying because I can’t go any faster*)

-“You get sarcasm! You’ve ALWAYS gotten sarcasm/idioms!” (Yes, when you use ThAt VoIcE™️ for sarcasm and I straight up learned every idiom I know from the internet/english class)

-Alternatively: “No?? Of course we aren’t doing that thing I said we were doing a second ago? I was being sarcastic???

-“I’m proud of you for just toughing it out and eating that food you hate/letting that person touch you when you didn’t want them to/basically just having a sensory meltdown without bothering other people too much.”

-*Infodumps while clearly no one cares*

-“You’re too sensitive! Why are you upset?”

-“Jeez what are you, heartless? Why aren’t you excited?”

-“How are you feeling?” “I don’t kn-“ “BUT HOW ARE YOU FEELING???!?”

-“Food doesn’t have a “bad texture”.

-*doesn’t make sure my voice/face is bright enough* “quit acting so disgusted with everything around you”.

-*gets overwhelmed to the point of crying while also being like why the fuck am I crying freaking stop*

-*Goes somewhere unfamiliar and is uncomfortable* “this is supposed to be a nice trip*

-*schedule gets suddenly changed/disrupted causing me to get stressed/overwhelmed/space out* “plans change sometimes you know”.

-*has a preset list of acceptable ways to talk to strangers and aquaintences in person* “you’re so good at small talk!”

-*Sometimes has trouble communicating/interacting with friends/family “Quit isolating yoursef”.

-*has extreme auditory sensitivity which was ignored for years until I literally begged my parents to acknowledge how much pain it was causing me*

-*Debilitating social anxiety due to lack of understanding where I fit into the conversation and not wanting to come off as too much* “Be more outgoing! People like you!”

-*says something I think is cool/interesting/funny only to be met by blank stares and one (1) awkward laugh.

-*Realizes that fiddling with elastics/pencils/fidget toys/flapping my hands a little is better than DIGGING MY NAILS INTO MY FUCKING SKIN when I’m overwhelmed* “You’re just doing all this fidgety stuff to PROVE something.”

-*Feels intense sympathy for friends and family but can only use shared experience for empathy*

-*doesn’t notice I’m talking loudly* “Jeez calm down!”

_*doesn’t notice I’m talking quietly* “Speak. Up.”

-*Develops super intense interests in tv shows and music*

-“Just change your routine! It’s not that hard.”

-*relentless thought/song lyric enters head, will not exit for rest of forever*

[brianc521]

Mendes Recording Co | Treat You Better

He hated himself, simple as that.

He couldn’t stand how excited she was for her date, and how James kept turning out to be that guy.

He had flowers delivered this morning, letting her know that he’d pick her up at 6 from the studio since he knows it’s Friday and she likes to stay an hour late to catch up on paperwork from the week.

Shawn signed for the flowers and it took everything in him not to just dump them in the trash bin right outside the front door. They were white roses, and he knows she fucking hates roses.

She believes that they are too cliche’d, that it’s almost expected that all girls love roses and swoon at the sight of a boy holding roses.

And tell you what, she swooned so fucking hard when Shawn turned around holding a vase of roses, that boy looked real pretty and soft holding white roses out to her. All her thoughts of ‘cliche’s are stupid’ went right out the window at the sight of the man in front of her.

“James sent roses,”

And her whole giddy happy demeanor dropped at the just the mention of his name.

She has nothing against James, he’s sweet and cute, but, he’s just not Shawn.

“Oh, okay,”

“They’re not lilies,” Shawn mutters as he sets them on the corner of her desk.

She looks up with wide eyes when he says that, her heart rate picking up. “Huh?”

“Lilies?” Shawn tilts his head, “I thought they were your favorite,”

“They are,” She answers quickly, “They are.”

“So why would he send roses?” He asks with a slight smirk.

“Cliche,” She murmurs, checking to see if the vase needs water.

Shawn just hums, nodding as he heads off for the booth, “Maybe he doesn’t know you that well,”

**

She stands from her desk, straightening out her dress, and reaching for her purse as Shawn walks in. He’s purposely stayed late to see her out on her date for the evening, also to maybe get a view of what his competition might be.

He made a plan today, in his office, that he’s gonna fight. He knows that this is his girl standing in his building. This is his girl that’s gonna rule the music industry with him, but also rule the world. He could feel it in his blood, that she was his. She just didn’t know it yet.

He just has to do something to make her see.

“Not here yet?” He asks, taking a seat in front of her desk.

“No, but it’s early,” She nods.

“Think he’ll bring more roses?” He quips.

“Shut up,” She shakes her head.

And its then he notices that she hasn’t touched them. Didn’t do her routine of putting them in her vase after cutting the stems, didn’t change the water or anything. She hasn’t done anything that she normally does when he walks in with a bouquet of lilies from time to time.

“Hmm?” He smirks, biting his lip as he looks up at her.

Maybe she already knows, she’s just fighting it. Because if she’s fighting it, he’ll fight her harder.

“What?” She snaps.

“Gonna let them die? Or gonna let them grow?” He nods to the roses, but his eyes never leave hers and he knows that she gets what he’s really talking about.

“I don’t know, haven’t had a chance to pay attention to letting them grow,” She answers confidently, standing in front of the mirror on the wall and fixing her lipstick.

Shawn sinks in his seat a little, what was that supposed to mean?

Just as Shawn’s about to say something back the door opens, a well dressed James stepping in.

“Hey,” He smiles, looking from Shawn to Y/n. “You look good,” He stutters over his words, obviously nervous.

“Well thank you,” Shawn stands, grinning when Y/n sends him a glare, “But shouldn’t you be complimenting your date? Because she looks phenomenal.

James stops and his eyes widen as he looks to Y/n, “I was-”

“He’s kidding, I know you were talking to me,” She interrupts. “Thank you,” She smiles. “And thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.”

“Are you ready?” James offers a hand, and she smiles kindly as she takes it, walking with him to the door.

Shawn reaches out quickly, grabbing her arm and pulling her into him. “Something else is already growing Alto, maybe you should let these die,” He references their earlier conversation, giving her a pointed look.

She gasps and then retains her composure, “Maybe I’m letting this grow because someone else regrets planting the other seed.”

With that she smiles at James and exits the building without looking back.

Shawn flops back into his seat, winded from what she’s just said. “Regret?” He repeats, and it’s like everything flips and suddenly he can see her clearly.

She never regretted what they did, she’s doing this because she thought he did. She’s protecting herself from the pain he caused when he tried to keep everything professional. Which explains why she never wanted to speak to him about what happened because she assumed he’d want to talk about how he might have thought it was a mistake, when he never did.

Shawn stood up, looking at the flowers and his eyes catch on the card. He picks it up, looking at the note James wrote;

It’s finally date day, I’ll pick you up at 6

Shawn rolls his eyes, tossing the card back on the desk, and when it lands it’s face down, his eyes catching on her handwriting on the back.

Dinner at Vinyls Bar and Grill

“He’s taking her to a bar?” Shawn spits, he reaches for his keys in his pocket, fumbling for his wallet and booking it out to his car, she’s with the wrong guy and it’s time to prove it to her.

**

The drive to the bar was quick, but felt like an eternity to Shawn. He kept asking himself questions. Did she leave the date destination on the card on purpose? Did she hope he’d find it and come get her?

He parks his car, jumping out and stalking into the bar and grill, looking around with narrowed eyes for his girl.

His eyes catch on hers over James’ shoulder. Her mouth falls open when she sees him, James turning and looking to look at Shawn when she won’t look away.

“Shawn?” James says, looking back to Y/n. “Is something wrong?”

Shawn scoffs, eyes darting to James. “Yeah something is,”

“What happened?” She stands up, worried something bad happened.

“You’re here,” Shawn snaps. “That’s what happened. You went out with him, and not me.”

She gasps, and James clears his throat, standing as well.

“Well maybe she turned you down for a reason Mate,” James pushes Shawn’s shoulder a bit, getting him to take a step back.

Shawn shakes his head, “She never turned me down, Mate.”

James looks to Y/n with a look of shock, and a flash of possessiveness washes over him. “Well I would think that her being here, with a man that’s not you should be clue enough that she doesn’t want you?”

“Does she not want me, or is she trying to distract herself with you.” Shawn smirks, looking to Y/n, “When she knows that no one can be me,”

Y/n’s frozen in shock, everything falling apart right in front of her eyes.

“Shawn,” James voice goes deep and quiet. “If you don’t leave my date, then I’ll have no choice but to take my talent to another studio, and to rip up that contract Y/n brought up on Wednesday.”

Shawn blanches for a quick second, never thinking that James would hit that low, and also in shock that Y/n’s talked to him about a contract with the studio. Shawn locks eyes with James.

“Fine,” He shakes his head. “Couldn’t care less,”

At this Y/n gasps, hitting Shawn’s arm. “Shawn!” She shrieks, “He’s gonna put your studio on the map!”

And it’s true, with the raw natural talent that James has, he could really skyrocket the studio.

Shawn’s eyes flare as he turns to Y/n, “No Baby,” He shakes his head, the pet name falling from his lips so effortlessly. “He’d put our studio on the map.”

“Shawn,” She sighs, her eyes brimming with tears, cheeks a cute pink tint.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Shawn shrugs simply. “I’d lose him over you. I’d lose everything before I let myself lose you.”

“You don’t mean that,” She rolls her eyes.

“Yes I do!” Shawn takes her hand, interlocking their fingers. “I let you walk out the door once, I won’t do it again. I’m falling in love with you, and you’re my dream.”

She gasps, tear dropping as she has to tell her body to breathe. “I’m falling in love with you too,”

“Then leave with me, let me take you somewhere where you’re comfortable, because any man who truly cares for you know that you don’t like bars, and despise roses,” Shawn sneers at James.

She hiccups a bit as she tries to catch her breath, “I’m sorry James,”

James sighs, nodding, “Can’t fight love,” He mumbles as she hugs him quickly and then taking Shawn’s hand, letting him walk her to his car.

**

“I thought you regretted it,” She shrugs, now sitting on his white fluffy couch.

She’s wearing his sweats, and one of his Johnny Cash shirts, make up washed off her face, hair in a messy ponytail.

“No,” Shawn shakes his head quickly, scooting closer to her, hands holding hers. “God no,”

“It’s just you acted like it never happened, I mean you left,” She deflates, “I don’t even think you stayed at all.”

“Hey,” He tilts her chin up to look at him. “Of course I stayed,” His eyebrows are scrunched. “I took advantage and held you all night, only been wanting to do that since I met you.”

She blushes, nodding her head at him. “Why’d you act like that then?”

He sighs, “It’s so stupid when I say it now, but at the time? I thought it would be smart to act like it didn’t happen at work. That way were weren’t like disrupting the great work relationship, as we turned into more.”

“So what does this mean? Do I have chose? Girlfriend or Co worker?”

“NO!” Shawn shakes his head, realizing he’s not explaining clearly. “I’m bad at this,”

“I guess I’m just confused, if you don’t want to disrupt our work then how…?”

“I think I just want to figure out how we can balance both, you know?”

“Yeah of course. I mean I don’t want anything to change, I mean except being able to kiss you, and spend more time with you,”

“Of course things are gonna change,” He leans forward, nipping her lips. “You’re my girlfriend,”

“Am I?”

“I hoped so,” He grins.

“Me too,”

** Tags: @minniemcgoo \\ @softboyshawn \\ @lettherosesgrow \\ @shawnsassymendes \\ @spideys-wife \\ @justanotherfangurl272 \\ @alinaxxshawn \\ @ilovejackavery \\ @officialrackxo \\ @ilsolee \\ @ourlittleshawnie \\ @disaster-rose \\ @ashwarren32 \\ @vnv21 \\ @drunklili