#i've realized most of my anxieties the first three days were. yeah. just anxiety

[antihibikase]

First two days were anxiety inducing, third day was a little more bearable since my family was home! Change is incredibly difficult, but I'm really grateful for everyone wishing us well during such a scary time .. 🥹

[void-wolfie]

Falling Head First

summary: you're a bit clumsy, it's a good thing Jenna's always there to pick you up when you fall. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: none? terrible writing lol... (let me know if I need to add anything)

words: 2.22k

a/n: hope this is what you were looking for anon. Sorry it took me so long to get to your request.

You skated past that house again, the one where the kids were always outside playing. The one where that pretty girl lived.

Except this time, there weren't any kids outside goofing around. Just her. That pretty girl who was roughly your age, maybe a bit older. She had her headphones in and her nose buried in her phone as she sat on the front porch.

You always rode past her house, hoping maybe one day she'd stop you and say hi. You'd stop yourself, but you just couldn't... Your mother called it being shy, your therapist liked to call it social anxiety. Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to her. Or anyone really. Too many what-ifs... What if she laughed at you? What if you embarrassed yourself? What if she hated you? Or called you stupid? Or-

Lost in your thoughts, you'd completely missed the rock in the road. Your skateboard darted out to the side, throwing you head-first into the pavement.

You rolled over onto your back, trying to brush off the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Everything hurt, but nothing felt broken, right?

"Oh my god, are you ok?" You looked up to notice the girl rushing towards you, looking fairly concerned.

"Uh-" You looked yourself up and down, nothing felt broken, nothing looked broken, "Fine, I think,"

"You're bleeding," She kneeled beside you, softly tilting your chin to get a better look at your head.

She prodded at the corner of your forehead with her finger. You instantly recoiled, hissing at the stinging sensation.

"Sorry, sorry," She backed away, leaving the cut alone. "You're not gonna need stitches, come on, let me get you patched up,"

She stood up and held out her hand, offering to help you up.

Your mind was reeling. Why was she being so nice to you, the two of you were strangers…

"Uh, thanks," You took her hand, letting her help you up. It was either let her help clean you up, or skate home with blood dripping down your face. Might as well pick the option with the pretty girl, you thought to yourself.

You picked up your skateboard and followed the girl into the house, leaving the board by the door so as not to track dirt through the whole place.

"I'm Jenna, by the way,"

"y/n,"

She pointed at the toilet and you sat down, wringing your hands nervously. She dug around underneath the bathroom counter, most likely looking for a first aid kit of some kind.

She set a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the counter followed up by a washcloth and a box of Band-Aids.

"I've seen you around before, do you live close?"

Oh small talk, why did it have to be small talk? You suck at small talk...

"Uh, yeah. Just a few streets down from here,"

"How old are you?"

You internally cringed, why did this feel so painfully awkward?

"Sixteen, my birthday's in a few months... what about you?"

"Seventeen, my birthday was last week actually,"

"Oh, happy birthday,"

"Thanks,"

The smile she gave you made you feel like you were on cloud nine. Butterflies, fireworks, every other stupid little analogy they talk about in those cheesy romance novels. You'd fall off your skateboard every day if it meant you could see that smile just one more time.

"Stop moving," You hadn't even realized your knee had been bouncing up and down, picking at your fingernails. Bad habits you'd picked up over the years, and ones you generally caught yourself doing when you were nervous.

She grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and the washcloth, placing herself in between your knees as she stood in front of you. "Alright, hold still. This'll probably sting."

"One, two..."

You waited for her to get to three, but it never came. Instead, you felt her pour the liquid into the cut, burning as it fizzled.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow-" You tried to sit still, but you weren't very good at it. You were squirming like a worm on a hook, eyes closed as a mix of hydrogen peroxide and blood dribbled down the side of your face.

You heard Jenna giggle, followed by the feeling of her hand cupping your cheek, "I said hold still." She wiped off the side of your face with the washcloth, dabbing at the cut slightly to make sure it was all dry.

You felt her leave the spot in front of you. You opened your eyes, watching as she tossed the washcloth into the sink, grabbing the box of Band-Aids from the counter.

"Ok, you have a very important decision to make," you tilted your head, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Jenna had to hold in a laugh at how adorable you looked.

"Scooby-Doo or Spiderman?" She held up two Band-Aids, one with little Scooby-Doo heads and doggy prints, the other with Spiderman doing a bunch of different poses.

She was attempting to look dead serious, a blank stare as she waited for you to answer, but you didn't buy the act for one second.

You scoffed playfully, "Scooby-Doo, of course."

She set the Spiderman Band-Aid back in the box with a smile, "Not a fan of Spiderman, huh?"

"Spiderman is cool, Scooby-Doo is just better,"

She stood back in front of you, nudging your knees further apart so could step between them again. Only so she could get closer to your face for the Band-Aid, no other reason. At least, that's what she told herself.

You watched her as she got closer, getting lost between the freckles that dotted her face like stars in the night sky and those big brown eyes, nearly black as night yet full of so much life and joy.

"You're staring," She smirked, enjoying the blush that spread across your cheeks and up to your ears.

"Sorry," You squeaked out, nervously looking at the ground.

"It's alright,"

She grabbed your chin in her hand, angling your head so you were staring at the wall so she could get a better view of the cut on your head. "Stay,"

You didn't move a muscle. How could you when she said it like that? Like you were some lost little puppy following her every whim… Putting it like that made you feel pathetic, after all, you'd only met the girl today. And yet, part of you knew you'd do whatever she said just to keep seeing that adorable smile.

Five minutes and you were already whipped...

You were so caught up in your thoughts you barely even registered her putting the Band-Aid on. You hadn't realized she was done till her hand was on your chin again. Her hand was still cupping your face as you stared up at her, once again falling prey to those enchanting eyes and countless freckles.

"All better," She took a step back, removing herself from between your legs, much to your disappointment.

"Hi, love," you leaned back, hanging upside down in front of Jenna.

She yelped, jumping back a step out of surprise. She hadn't expected you to be there when she rounded the corner, "Jesus, y/n. You scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry," You gave a sheepish smile, feeling bad for scaring her.

It'd been two years since you met Jenna, and one amazing year since the two of you started dating. Your only regret was not kissing her that first day you met. She was standing right there, right between your knees, and you let the chance slip away... But that was a thing of the past, and now you could kiss her as much as you wanted.

"What are you doing up there? It's starting to rain, baby, we got to go,"

You pouted, a bit childishly at that. Jenna had to fight off the urge to smile at you. She didn't want you to fall and hurt yourself, you were already prone to accidents as is.

The two of you decided to have a day for yourselves, just goofing off and having fun. Somewhere along the way you ended up at the park, walking along the trails and enjoying the peace and quiet. Jenna left you near the playground by yourself while she ran off to the restroom, it was only natural that you decided to goof off and have a little fun. After coming back, Jenna noticed the rain coming in, scaring off what was left of the remaining parents and kids.

It was drizzling as she searched for you. Rounding the corner she found you here, dangling upside-down from the pull-up bars by your knees.

"I wanted to try kissing you upside down, like in the movie last night,"

She couldn't hold back the giggles this time, smiling at your adorable pout, "You mean the Spiderman kiss? The upside-down, kissing in the rain thing?"

"Yes please, kisses now," You made grabby hands at her, which came out a bit awkward and uncoordinated from how you were hanging upside down.

She laughed, showing off that radiant smile that you adored. She grabbed the sides of your face, kissing you as requested. It was soft, simple, and sweet. No different from the dozens of other times she'd kissed you before. But goddamn, that feeling you get every time never seems to go away. Her kisses were addictive, they set your nerves on fire and left you craving more. You felt like you could melt under her touch.

Apparently, you relaxed under her touch a little too much. Your grip on the bar loosened and the bar slipped out from beneath you. Before you knew it Jenna was scrambling back as you tumbled head-first into the uneven ground below.

You knew something was wrong the second you landed, a small crack coming from somewhere.

"Ow..."

Jenna watched you slip from the bar, managing to brace your fall as you stuck out your arms. She heard a yelp, followed by a strained 'ow'. But you didn't get up right away. She watched you curl in on yourself instead, writhing about on the ground in pain.

Shit.

She was down on her knees beside you in the dirt, wanting to help but afraid to touch you and make everything worse, "Hey, what happened? Where's it hurt?"

"My wrist," You managed to get out between gritted teeth, tears already beginning to well up in your eyes from the pain, "I fell on my wrist."

"Ok, let me see,"

You stopped wriggling about long enough for her to look at your arm. It didn't look like it was broken, granted her idea of ‘broken’ entailed bones sticking out of the skin or limbs pointed in funny directions.

Jenna went to gently grab your arm, so she could check the other side, but you quickly pulled back with a little yelp and a rush of tears.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She was starting to panic now, she'd barely even touched you.

The rain was starting to come down harder now, too much longer and the two of you would be soaked to the bone. Far off in the distance, Jenna could just barely make out the rumbling of thunder.

All she had to do was get you to the car. But that was easier said than done. You were still on the ground, wet from the rain, and tensed up in pain.

"Hey, baby, look at me,"

You stopped wriggling around for just a moment, long enough to focus on Jenna. She placed her hands on either side of your face and you closed your eyes, melting into her touch. She placed a kiss on your forehead, then on your nose, and finally on your lips.

"Let's get you home, alright?"

She lied. Well, not technically, but yes.

When Jenna said she was going to take you home, you assumed she meant right away. But that was a lie. Instead, she forced you into going to the ER first to get your wrist checked out.

After hours of waiting, having to endure the stale smell of disinfectant, and medical professionals poking and prodding at your arm, you were finally being sent home.

You flopped down on the sofa the second you got through the door. You were exhausted. You closed your eyes and curled up into the corner of the couch, being careful not to agitate your arm, wishing you could fall asleep right then and there.

You were just about to doze off when you heard footsteps approaching. You didn't bother to look, only one other person was home.

"Scoot over, love,"

You did as you were told, making room for your girlfriend next to you. The second she was comfortable you laid yourself across her lap, finding it a bit awkward to get comfortable with the splint for your wrist.

Your eyes were shut once again as you felt something soft being nudged into your arms. You didn't have to look to know what it was. It was the stuffed animal Jenna bought you for your birthday, the absolute softest plush dinosaur you'd ever seen. You definitely haven't slept with it every night since then.

She draped a blanket over the two of you and by the time she started running her fingers through your hair, you were already asleep. The only sound in the room coming from your soft snores.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

22 - Share In Your Suffer (Is All I Can Do)

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: Fully fleshed out emotional trauma, Mentions of Dubious Consent, a certain R word, and Jake's capture/torture

A/N: I have no effing idea where this chapter came from but its damn heavy and it needed to be here. There's a shitload of trauma dumping here between Sam and Jake, with mentions of dubious consent (not by Jake, though he does say a certain word that begins with R) and he begins to unpack his capture. I know I've made Rooster the villain here, but I PROMISE he will get redemption at some point. Just not right now. Also I know I'm skipping a lot of time but the next thing coming up is going to be the Navy Ball and then the first chapter of the crossover so I had to. I will still be writing chapters for Delicate and Lightning concurrently with the 3rd part too so just be aware of that! As always, likes, comments, reblogs are the most appreciated. Thank y'all for showing this story as much love as you have.

This was wild to write but I loved every fucking second of it.

Tags: @djs8891 @mrsevans90 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03

Jake decided the best place to meet Maverick would be on base. It would be the first time he was stepping on base since the mission. He’d also decided that he needed to try to do this without Sam, so while he really wasn’t supposed to be driving, he promised he’d be careful, and went alone. He needed to do something by himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Sam to help him, but it was a matter of his own pride, his own ego, that needed a boost. Sam would wait with bubbling anxiety until he got home.

He pulled into the base parking lot and hopped out of his truck. It felt good to drive his own vehicle. He had begun his physical therapy, but he still had to wear the sling during the day. He’d felt much better about his body within the first appointment. He had been extremely sore the next day, but he appreciated the soreness. It meant he was getting better. 

As he walked toward the main building, he noticed Nat leaving. She smiled at him and approached.

“Hi, Jake. How are you feeling?” She asked, pulling him into a hug. He accepted warmly and hugged her back.

“I’m okay. Just trying to get better. I’m here to see Mav. I wanna talk with him about Rooster.” Jake said and Nat nodded.

“Sam told me what happened. Rooster is pretty broken up about it. He didn’t mean to scare her. He wanted to talk to you when he got back.” Nat explained and Jake tilted his head.

“Where’d he go?” He asked and Nat’s brows furrowed.

“You didn’t hear? He asked to go back to Virginia. He’s deployed on a short mission.” She said and Jake took a breath in disbelief. He pursed his lips and then smiled at Nat, patting her on the shoulder before returning his hands to his pockets.

“Good to see you, Nat.” He said as they parted ways. He continued into the building, and headed to Cyclone’s office first. He knocked on the door and heard Cyclone’s voice say ‘come in’. Jake entered and found Maverick and Warlock there as well.

“Lieutenant. Have a seat. Good to see you.” Cyclone said, and Jake did exactly that. He pulled a chair from across the room and sat diagonally to Maverick. He folded his arms across his lap. “You’re out of your sling?”

“Just for a few hours during the day and to sleep. I’m supposed to put it back on if my shoulder starts to hurt or feel fatigued, per the doctor. I don’t particularly want to put it back on at all, but Sam is keeping me honest, so we’re rotating how long it stays on.” Jake explained and all three of the other men smiled wide, knowing all too well that Jake was being a stubborn patient, and they weren't the least bit surprised by it either.

“So, you wanted to discuss Rooster? We were just talking about him coming back after his current deployment.” Maverick said, cutting right to the chase. 

“Yeah. I didn’t realize he’d requested another deployment so soon.” Jake said and Mav swallowed hard.

“He’s running away from his problems, as usual.” He said and Jake’s brows furrowed. Maverick continued. “He’s pretty fairly broken up about Samantha. He’s always been in love with her. They met when they were teenagers, just through Ice and I being friends and wingmen. Bradley was less bitter about his dad then too. And then his mom passed and I pulled his papers. That pissed him off and when he finally graduated, he tried to be as far away from me as he could so Oceana base was where he settled. A few years ago, Ice and I ended up needing to attend a funeral for a friend and fellow pilot down there, and Sam had come down to visit her dad from college in that same week. While Ice, our friends, and I were out reminiscing, Bradley was trying to romance Sam. It worked for about two days and then Sam headed back home and the next time she saw Bradley, it was like nothing had ever happened. You can imagine how much that pissed Bradley off.” Maverick explained and Jake stayed silent as he disgusted everything that he’d been told. Sam had told him some of this but not all of it. 

“Sam can be harsh, especially if a guy is being a jerk. It doesn’t come from a place of entitlement either. She wants respect. She demands it. But I think guys see all that she gets, and don’t get me wrong she’s worked her ass off to get where she is in her job, but I don’t know how many pilots have found out that she’s Ice’s daughter and they just try to make a play at her because of it. She’s developed an armor over her heart because of that. I’m surprised she let you in, honestly. But the bigger issue with Rooster is he tried, and succeeded in getting a night with her so now he thinks he’s entitled to it again. He sees you and knows you’re getting everything that he thinks he deserves. What he doesn’t see is what I assume is all the work you put in to get her. And the way in which you went about it.” Maverick’s analysis was spot on to what Jake was thinking. He knew that Rooster was jealous because he had Sam’s heart. And when looking in from the outside, it didn’t seem like Jake had done much to get it, but he had. All the texting, sweet talking, buying her breakfast, lunch and dinners, and it helped immensely that Rocco immediately liked Jake. 

“I want to try to iron things out with Rooster. I know it’s never going to be completely smooth sailing, but I’d like to coexist at the least without having to have Sam be stressed the fuck out every time he’s around. We’re all friends with the same pilots.” Jake said softly and Maverick reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Well, now you have some insight on Rooster. A lot of his problem is me and he and I are trying to work everything out, but it’s going to take time, like anything that needs fixing. You know that all too well. I can’t say fixing our relationship will fix everything between you and him and Sam, but I do think it’ll smooth some of the sharp edges that are there.” Maverick said and he smiled at Jake. “I’m sure when he comes back, he’ll have had enough time to think about things and he’ll come apologize. He always apologizes. He’s not all bad, he’s just in his head too much. But let him come to you. If you try to approach him, it’ll just make it worse.” 

“Noted. Thank you for telling me. I just feel like he’s trying to compete with me and with Sam it’s not a game. At least I don’t see it that way. I haven’t ever been interested in settling down, but with her, I have this overwhelming need to do anything and everything for her. I feel like that’s more a life purpose than a game. I’ve played the game long enough. I tap out.” Jake explained and all three of the other men chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“I can see why your fellow pilots said you’ve grown outside of work as well. It’s funny when you figure out that you can fly not only for yourself, but someone else as well.” Cyclone added and Jake smiled. There was a comfortable silence that fell over the room then, and suddenly Jake felt like he’d grown up. He wasn’t the little kid in his bedroom playing with model planes and pretending he was flying a jet in the back yard with his brother. He wasn’t the kid who thought he was invincible driving fast down route 57 in Arkansas, racing his brother. He wasn’t the young man flirting in the bar after his first air to air kill with every pretty girl that came along. He wasn’t the man who unknowingly fell for the Fleet Commander’s daughter at first sight. In that moment, in that room, he’d become a man whose purpose was now to build a family with the woman he loved. He had something more than himself to live for.

While Jake was at the base, Warlock elected to show him the office that they had prepared for Jake when he was ready to come back to work. He and Sam were planning to go down to Oklahoma for Christmas, immediately after the Navy Birthday Ball, which was in a few weeks time. Jake was doing everything he could to be out of his sling by then because he was absolutely not accepting his Navy Cross in a fucking sling. After setting foot in his office, which was small, just enough room for the desk and the shelves that were there, as well as a couple chairs, he glanced out the window, which overlooked the taxiway. It was a nice view. Jake thanked Warlock and when he left, he stood for a few moments in the front lobby. 

There was a memorial board of Iceman that people had tacked their favorite pictures on. There were old pictures of him and the pilots from his and Maverick’s squadron. There were pictures of him and pilots shaking his hand at their graduation from Top Gun and from the Naval Academy. And at the bottom, there was a picture that only one person could’ve put up. It was of Ice, Mav, Rooster, and Sam from that funeral. Just the four of them, but Jake’s brows furrowed at the way Rooster’s hand was wound tightly around Sam’s waist. Jake shook his head. He understood all too well why Rooster was so willing to help Sam when she needed it and to protect her when he thought she needed it. It wasn’t Sam’s fault for reciprocating the one time. Jake figured she’d thought it was okay to give him a chance, and she probably regretted it a hundred fold now, because it had backfired on her in such a spectacular way. She was probably kicking herself every now and again for letting Rooster in that one time. 

Jake walked out to his truck and stopped for a moment, taking a heavy breath before climbing in. He didn’t want to know at first but now he needed to. He needed to ask Sam what happened between her and Rooster, because he was getting the feeling that something wasn’t lining up the way it should. Something about the whole thing wasn’t right.

Arriving at home, he found Sam comfortably napping on the couch, the dogs all around her. Of course, they had come to greet him at the door, but they’d immediately went right back to laying in the vicinity of Sam. Javy and Maisy were out again and he shot Javy a quick text, asking when they’d be back. A couple of hours had been his response. Jake went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and sat at the small island. He then heard the shaking of tags on collars and soft footsteps on the carpeted floor. Samantha appeared, yawning and stretching. She stepped behind Jake and wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her chin on his good shoulder, pressing her lips to his neck then.

“You came back in one piece.” She mused and he turned in his seat and pulled her between his legs. 

“”I did. Hey...listen...I wanna talk about something.” Jake said, averting his eyes for a moment. This was going to kill him to ask.

“Sure, is everything okay?” She asked, placing her hands on either side of his neck. That was good. He could keep her close in case she got emotional. He was banking on it.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He said, his tone with an accusatory edge that made Sam pull back. “I know I said I didn’t want to know, but now I need to. Tell me what happened with you and Roos all those years back, please.” He demanded and Sam’s eyes drifted shut for a moment before she took a shaky breath.

“I told you. We had sex. It was shit. I wasn’t interested in going further than the one night with him and that pissed him off.” Sam said, her gaze drawn down to Jake’s chest. Her fingers lingered on his neck but they stilled and Jake could tell she wasn’t telling him everything.

“Run me through that night.” He said, his tone softening significantly, reaching up to cup her cheeks with his hands. Her face contorted into a painful grimace and she bit her lip.

“Only if you tell me what happened when you got captured.” Sam said, hoping that he would give something up too. His lips thinned and he glanced away for a moment before his thumbs rubbed along her cheekbones.

“Okay. But...it’s going to scare you, so remember that you asked.” He whispered, poking his nose toward her. She met it with her own and her fingers clawed at his shirt.

“My story is going to make you want to kill Rooster, so...I guess we’ll be equal in some aspect.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she pulled away slightly with a heavy sigh. She leaned against one of his thighs and the side of the counter before beginning her story. “So...we’d gone to a funeral that afternoon for a friend of my dad’s. Then we all went to dinner that night and some of his friends stayed at the restaurant and some of them wanted to head to a bar. Rooster was all sorts of mad at Maverick and I was trying to be a good friend and went to the bar with him. We had some drinks, we danced, had some more drinks, and then he got a little handsy which I remember at the time I wasn’t having. And of course as Rooster does, he apologized, telling me he was just mad and he really needed a friend right now. I told him maybe we should go back to my room or his.” 

Jake swallowed hard and his brows knitted. It was hard for him to hear, but it was because he loved Sam as much as he did. He couldn't stand the thought of another man having her, even though it had already happened, but as he understood Rooster more, he thought less of him as an enemy and he just felt plain sorry for him. Sam searched Jake’s face for a signal to continue then. She took the gentle caress of his fingers across her jawline as exactly that.

“Rooster and I went back to his apartment, which was just off base. It wasn’t terribly late and he asked if I wanted anything else to drink and I said sure. We were already pretty buzzed at that point so I remember him handing me a glass of tequila or whiskey, something like that, and saying what a terrible idea that was. We sat on his couch, drank, and listened to music. At some point he...decided that he wanted to kiss me. I...allowed it once...and then pushed him away. I told him he was being stupid. We sat there for a while and then he tried again, the same thing and I got kind of pissed at him because he just wasn’t getting it and obviously we were drunk so I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. I pushed him away and then he walked away. Of course I felt bad. I went looking for him and he’d gone into his room. I remember leaning against the door frame...and he stood up and I went to leave but he grabbed me. He kissed me and I tried to push him away...” Sam hadn’t realized that she had tears running down her cheeks and that was when Jake stopped her, his stare hard, his nostrils flared. 

“Did he force you...did he...?” Jake couldn’t bring himself to say it, but Sam knew what he was asking.

“I let my pity for him get the better of me. He...kept pulling me toward the bed and I tried to stop but he kept telling me he just needed a friend right now’ and that I was ‘being such a good friend’ and I just didn’t understand what exactly was going on. I felt bad for him...so I just let it happen. We were so drunk, Jake...I just...didn’t know what to do...and I wanted to help him because we’d been friends for so long. I think I felt obligated...” Sam explained and Jake’s hands steadied her at the sides of her head.

“You should never feel like you need to do that. Even for me. Sam...he coerced you to have sex with him. That’s not something a friend does. That’s borderline...rape.” Jake said, his lips tight. His jaw tensed and he searched Sam’s eyes then, seeing in them understanding for what he was saying. She knew the whole exchange hadn’t felt right but she believed that Rooster wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt her. His basal instincts took over and he wanted connection, which for him, the only way he knew to do that was through sex, and Sam being drunk, was all too willing to give in that night. Sam became bubbly and overly nice when she was drunk. She hated that part of herself.

“That’s not how I thought of it...at least not at the time. We’ve never talked about it...Roos and I...” Sam sounded apologetic and Jake’s brows furrowed and his tone became edged with anger.

“Don’t you do that. Don’t you be sorry for him acting like a shitty friend. Don’t you ever feel sorry for that.” Jake growled and Sam took in a sharp breath at his words. “And you have every right to be an asshole to him. I get that you were both drunk but even then he shouldn’t have been begging to fuck you. If he was a good friend he should’ve respected you. He can’t even respect you now. I just needed to know how deep the disrespect runs because it’ll inform my interactions with him from now on. You won’t be alone with him ever again. That’s on me.” 

“Are you mad?” She asked and Jake shook his head.

“No. I feel sorry for him. He’s so angry and conflicted inside because of his parents and Maverick.” Jake said. He pulled Sam into a hug and all he could do for Rooster was to forgive him. There was nothing that could be done. It wouldn’t help Sam for Jake to go and beat the shit out of Rooster. It wouldn’t help Jake to hang onto a grudge. Jake had his fair share of drunk hookups. Jake would probably want to hit Rooster the next time he saw him, but knowing that Sam was trusting Jake with an experience so raw softened that urge. 

“I left in the morning. I felt like that said enough. Rooster and I never spoke about it again. I’ve never told anyone else about it, not even Nat. At least not the truth.” Sam said.

“And that’s the whole truth? You swear?” Jake asked and Sam nodded.

“I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that, Jake.” Sam said and she realized just how mature Jake was in that moment. Most guys would run off and try to kill someone that did something like that to their girl in the past. Jake was cool and calculating, sagacious in a way that she wasn’t expecting. She didn’t know why though, because she’d come to know that Jake was consistently this way. He was observant and watchful, and everything he did was planned, even if it didn’t look like it was on the outside. He thought a million ways to one how to make things work. His hands dropped down to her waist and then his eyes became apprehensive. 

“I don’t know how much I can offer...but let me start with my nightmare the other night. You did so good telling me...so I want to give you something like you asked.” Jake said, tone unsteady. Sam leaned closer, her hips meeting his. He intertwined his fingers around her back and the sage of his eyes held distress as she watched his thoughts grow dark. There was a shroud that washed over him, his muscles tensing as he shared what he felt he could. “When I tell you the only goal they had in mind was to make me suffer, Samantha, I’m being serious. These men did not care whether I lived or died. I was starved. They withheld water as long as they could. They taunted me. And you know how I can’t help making a smartass remark, but there were things they said to me that made me stay quiet. I’ve never been so scared. The worst part was the pain. Not just from the broken bones, but my whole body ached from dehydration and starvation. And they had the ability to take that away, but they wouldn’t.” 

“Jake, you don’t have to tell me anymore, right now. I get the gist of it. And I know you’re probably never going to want to tell me all of it.” Sam said softly. Jake brushed his cheek against her cheek.

“That’s the thing, Sam. I do wanna tell you. But I’m still sorting it all out in my head. I need you to know it all, but I’m fucking terrified to tell you, not because of what you’ll think, but because it scares me how much my love for you and my need to get back to you made me shatter myself to pieces. I would destroy every part of me to love you.” Jake murmured. Sam didn’t know what to say, only that she couldn’t put anything quite that eloquently, so she wasn’t even going to try. She couldn’t even begin to. 

[kennieswrld]

I Always Want To Die (Sometimes)

TW! Talks of suicidal ideations, graphic details of abortion and an overarching reference to the 1975.

Three days ago I planned to end my life. I was going to take all of my sleeping pills at once as well as my mood stabilizers. Life felt (and still kinda does) worthless and undeserving of my time or energy. I just wanted to end the numb and dull void that had began growing in my chest since my breasts began to develop.

Most will say that being "emo" is "just a phase" and that "most people grow out of it". I never realized until today that I am not one of those "most people". At first it was a fun and world bending way for me to express myself and take in- (never finished this sentence and I have no idea what I was going to say nor how I was going to finish this paragraph. Maybe it's my love for loving the unknown but I wanted to keep this thought here for a sentiment to the emotions I was going through while writing this at the time. Like where was this going? What was I even trying to say?)

Waking up everyday in absolute depression because you didn't choke on your own spit in your sleep? Yeah buddy, that's not normal. Isolating yourself from the world and pretending that the people on TV understand you better than yourself? That isn't normal. Planning your own death and writing out your own will and eulogy? Not. Normal.

-

That introduction was an attempted post I began writing around 3 months ago from when I'm writing this now. Boy oh boy do I feel like hiding behind my shadow to see my raw emotions in writing. It's weird how in the 3 months since things and feelings have changed drastically. Yet that small voice in the back of my thoughts can still be heard some days.

It's kinda funny revisiting this draft of a post every now and then because I know what prompted me to start writing it in the first place. I was stood up on a date. As humiliatingly dramatic this reaction is to read now, it opened a lot of doors for me.

I still want to disappear sometimes. It comes and goes, it's a packaged deal with living with bipolar. But staying alive 3 months longer is insanely insane (double insane because wow is it a whirlwind of emotions). Over the past few months I've lived my life in a way I have never lived before. I overcame my fear of being happy.

I put myself out of my comfort of my room with my cat. I actually tried continuously communicating with people I enjoyed spending time with instead of listening to my inner selves doubts and anxieties. I let myself become vulnerable to another person who wasn't my closest friend for the first time in ages. And I had an abortion.

It's funny to think that most of my life ending thoughts and intense emotional ranges weren't from my bipolar, but rather my body preparing herself to create a tinier body within itself. It's a comedic blessing in disguise that he stood me up that day. Who knows if I would've even found out about my condition as fast as I did if I were more focused on another person than my own self? I think of that often.

Would I have not payed more mind to the uncomfortable abdominal cramps I was having? Would I have become someone's mother? Would I have become someone's reason for creation that they would've never had the chance to meet in person? Would I have gone through with the loud sobs going through my mind every day during those tumultuous 3 weeks?

I guess it's better to not know. Well, obviously it is since I don't have to live in any of those realities that I often catch myself thinking of. But, the idea of ending my life feels so beyond me now that I've made a life decision to keep my life the way it is rather than inviting a new one in (Totally not saying that the bloody golf ball that fell out of me was a 'life', it's more of a metaphor. For me at least. Please for the love of God support people's choices on what they want to do with their lives and not your opinion on what they should do). I find myself about it a few times every other week if I wallow in myself long enough, but not nearly as much as I did then.

Living with my bipolar and discerning how intertwined it is with who I am has been a rollercoaster to say the least. I have my up's and I definitely have my down's, but since the day I went to the doctor to receive that life altering pill I've felt different. I'm not guilty nor am I depressed over the decision I made that day, but I feel like it was the loudest alarm I've ever woken up to. I needed to climb out of the casket I was allowing it to bury me in.

I overcame my fear of never fitting in and became close friends with people I never thought I would've met during that time in my life. I met a girl who unknowingly to her aided me in visualizing how far deep in my head I was renting for the price of my mental health. For the first time in the 20 years I've been alive, I felt normal and as if I belonged somewhere. I still don't know what I'm doing with my life or where my future will take me, but it's less of a dead end feeling as it used to be. It is what it is. I can't worry about things I have no control over. But, I can enjoy every second I have in this disgusting yet beautiful planet.

I let myself experience loving another person and allowing them to love me back in the most intense way possible. But unlike my past attempts with romantic relationships, I learned how to truly empathize and absorb the differences my partners come with and what it takes and means to love someone properly and honestly. Not for the sake of just doing it just to feel less lonely than when alone. They met me after the ceasing the growth of the could've been big eyed parasite that tried growing in me. As cheesy as it sounds, I felt like it was the end of my story but they helped me start a new chapter. They helped me stare my self-made misery in the eye, and punch it's ugly face in the nose. To trust someone else's words and apply them in my day to day has brightened my days for the better. I thank every deity that could exist for the time spent with that person. Without their presence in my life I don't know how I could have processed that experience alone.

It's funny that this has sounded as if I'm super optimistic everyday but I know if depression drives into my life again my tone will shift from how it sounds now. But maybe it's good that I'm vocalizing the stability and happiness I've curated for myself in the past three months, maybe it will give me hope to live to see the future. Hence the title of this post. I want to learn more on how to bolden the 'sometimes' and strike out the always.

I'm not writing this for your pity, I'm writing this to give myself hope. And maybe anyone who reads this...mostly for myself though because I know I need to see myself saying what I'm thankful to be alive for when my illness tries to stuff me back in that cold and dark casket. It feels isolating living with this illness most days, but I'm not the first nor am I the only person dealing with this. Fuck, even people without bipolar feel this way sometimes. It's nice to know that your sadness isn't permanent, you're just afraid of not being sad because it's all you know. I'm so glad I got that abortion, I'm even happier I didn't let that tiny voice win. I have a cat to feed, and he needs me more than any dark thought that voice tries to convince me with.

tldr: putting my hand on the burning stove really made me change.

[breaking-binary-system]

This is something people need to realize more.

In order to get diagnosed, a lot of the time they need to at the very minimum highly suspect they have a disorder if not self diagnose. I have PTSD and PPD (Paranoid Personality Disorder). I had to highly suspect I had PTSD to be diagnosed and explain the paranoia I dealt with on a daily basis to get PPD diagnosed.

It's one thing to say delulu if you hallucinate, that's understandable because sometimes we shorten things we're diagnosed with or is a symptom simply because it makes it less scary. But you sure as hell won't see me go "I'm so delulu that boy doesn't like me but I swear he does!" thats called a crush and before a single person comments that doesn't happen, you haven't spent anytime with people who say delulu for fun.

I can't say how many times I've turned on the news and there's a case about someone dying and the first response is "I wonder what psychopath did that". A, psychopathy and sociopathy are no longer diagnoses, it's called Antisocial Personality Disorder and just because someone has ASPD doesn't make them evil, a lot are extremely kind

I had a really good friend who was schizophrenic, they would defend ANYONE who hallucinated and wouldn't hesitate to verbally tear someone to shreds over making fun of their disorder. Hallucinations isn't something you want or find fun, it's terrifying

One thing to joke acoustic and restarting (the last one is kinda iffy) if your autistic. Sometimes it can give them a reason to try and laugh on days the disorder can make them feel like hell.

Intrusive thoughts aren't "oh let me go dye my hair" or "oh well chop chop there goes my bangs!" I can't personally speak on it but have been told it's horrifying what the brain can bring out and can make them feel like horrible people

OCD isn't wanting things just neat. OCD (example here) is not being able to enter a room until you've turned that door knob exactly 7 times. OCD is being unable to leave a bathroom without washing your hands 2 times. OCD isn't just neatness

BPD/ASPD/Bipolar Disorder are all three (along with NPD) the most commonly "abused" disorders. You hear someone was neglected? Oops their parents must've been narcissists. Someone doesn't have the same reaction to something as someone else? They must have ASPD otherwise they would've reacted. Someone's emotions flipped like a dime on you? They must be bipolar or borderline! Those four are the ones everyone says are automatically abusive. Narc abuse isn't a thing. Borderline abuse isn't a thing. Bipolar abuse isn't a thing. ASPD abuse isn't a thing. If someone's abusive it's not because of their disorder, it's because their abusive.

I have paranoia and occasional hallucinations. If someone says "I'm in your walls" I have to go leave the house after taking anxiety medicine because I'm petrified that what if they ARE? Unreality isn't a hard thing to tag, you go and click Add tags and then type it in

Are some narcissists abusive? Sure, just as some people with literally ANY disorder can be abusive. But just because someone thinks their better doesn't make them a narcissist. Might make them an asshole but not narcissistic. NPD has been found in some cases to be linked to childhood trauma. Hell even if it's not a trauma response it's called don't shame people for what they can't control

I have several disorders, mentally and physically. Do I have some mental disorders I highly suspect or have self-diagnosed so that, oh yeah, I feel comfortable bringing it up to a professional? Yes. Because you can fit every symptom (or even just a majority! Just having one symptom doesn't make the disorder) and not be able to see a professional.

If you want me to stop supporting self diagnose (after researching it and thinking on it critically for some time) then stop using disorders as the cool quirky trend. Your not bipolar just because you were mad then happy.

Well aware I'll face backlash from this. If I somehow misrepresented a disorder and you have it, please correct me because I'm not a professional, I am going off of personal experiences and from people I know and love and have these disorders. Or things you find within, oh yeah, spending 5 seconds talking to someone with it

“You shouldn’t self-ID as ADHD/autistic, you’re turning a very real mental condition into a trend” Ok then stop saying delulu. Stop speculating on which cluster C personality disorder the criminals you hear about on the news have. Stop saying “schizoposting” and “acoustic” and “is it restarted?” Stop using “psycopath” and “sociopath” as catch-all ways of calling someone a bad person. Stop saying “the intrusive thoughts won” when you bleach your hair and then turn your nose up at people who suffer from very real, very scary urges of physical/sexual violence. Stop saying “I’m so OCD” as a way of calling yourself neat. Stop treating BPD/ASPD/Bipolar as inherently abusive. Stop saying “OP I am living in your walls” without tagging for unreality. Stop diagnosing complete strangers you’ve never met on r/AITA with narcissism.

You first. If you don’t want our disabilities to be treated like trends then stop belittling and minimising them. I’ll NEVER judge a person for trying find labels for their symptoms when an apathetic, racist, sexist, ableist healthcare system refuses to. But I will absolutely judge a hypocrite. Which a lot of you are

[escape-rock-bottom]

Hey There (Discomfort Challenge)

One day, a harsh reality hit me like a crowbar slamming me square in the face: I don't have many friends. I literally only had three very close ones, and two of them were high school friends I haven't spoken to for years. As you know, humans are social creatures and rarely is someone truly content with little to no social interaction and friends.

I personally fall into the category of people who are highly social but prefer a handful of really good friends over a large amount of acquaintances. I'm also in the category of socially anxious shy dudes who are secretly extroverts and love a good conversation. I just find it insanely hard to approach people for a variety of reasons I discussed in more detail in a previous blog. To summarize, I overthink things regarding socializing.

Apparently, the answer is painfully straightforward: People tend to ignore you unless you approach them. It seems like 90% of your relationships exist because you approached first, and 10% are from them approaching you.

Also, people generally keep to themselves and assume that others do the same. In my case, my resistance to making eye contact and approaching people makes it seem a whole lot like I'm not interested in chatting regardless of my actual intentions and desires.

People can't read minds, but they're great at reading body language. The difference between me and most other people is that my body language rarely betrays my intentions, emotions, or thoughts. That in itself creates complications with communication.

In order to take the guesswork and misinterpretation out of social interactions, I have to verbally express my intentions. If I want to talk, I need to make it clear with a greeting. If I want to be left alone, I'd need to ask for space. In reverse, I'd need to ask the other person what they need and learn to understand general social cues.

Yeah I can argue its unfair that I have to put in so much work into socializing but I have to be honest with myself: Who doesn't? Most people struggle with relationships in a variety of different ways.

Alright, I know my problems, but what good is that without a potential solution to them? How do I extinguish my anxiety regarding approaching people without freaking myself out? I came up with one idea after trying a previous method and realizing that was a little too scary at that time:

Just say hi to people I am familiar with.

That's a full on entry level baby step to conquering my fear right there. About two weeks ago I set out to greet people with a short and simple "hi". As of writing this post, I have still been doing so. It's getting a bit easier, but I still struggle with it. However, I've met quite a few cool people and was able to have more conversations than before.

It's nice to feel like I'm connecting to people where before I just sat there being pathetically lonely even though people were reaching out and engaging with me. It's even nicer to know that most of my relationships grew distant because of my lack of reaching out to them. Yes, I previously lacked that awareness and I will admit it's knowledge I only recognized after 24 years of my life.

Once again, with most types of anxiety, the way to deal with and overcome it is to take small steps to face it. Ignoring it or shifting blame to some other circumstance doesn't help you conquer that anxiety. Since I know my anxieties mainly surround social interactions, I set discomfort challenges to put me in a position to face my fears, but I know plenty of people who suffer the same or similar anxieties in their life.

Of course, it's up to you to test methods and choose the best fit. What will work for me may not for you, but the concepts themselves are universal: To overcome fear of socializing and building relationships, you need to practice putting yourself out there.

[inkmonster21]

Best Buds

Fezco x Reader

Euphoria Universe x Reader

1. Your Local Drug Dealer

2. Behind the Store Blaze

3. Friends

4. McKay’s Party

5. My Girl

6. Wifey Material

~o0o~ In the early morning of the first day, I could feel the eyes on us as we walked through the halls. Maddy, BB, Cassie, and I all clustered up as we tower the school. As we're walking we pass Jules and Rue. Fez just knew they'd be friends. BB points to Jules, "Oh, shit, that's the girl who tried to commit suicide at McKay's." I narrow my eyes at her. "What?" Maddy, Cassie, and I simultaneously. BB tosses her head back, "Oh, yeah. I forgot. You three were fuckin'." Cassie shrugs, unashamed. I blush at the thought of the rumor. We did not fuck in the bathroom, but who's to say others can't imagine. Maddy on the other hand was frustrated. She stomps her foot, "Why does everybody think we fucked?" I stare at her blankly, "Did... you not?" I could have sworn I saw Maddy making waves on that guy's dick in the pool. Maddy shakes her head, "Alcohol is not good for me." BB weighs in, "So you did fuck him." Maddy shakes her head, her eyes coming together in thought, she's focusing. "Honestly, I think I blacked out." I widen my eyes, "For real?"

Kat walks in, joining us from the side. "Look at you. Someone looks smitten." She pinches my cheek. "I will admit." BB shrugs with a smirk, "I just got one question." I wait for her to continue, "Fez got a big dick?" I wink at the four girls before turning on my heel and walking to my class.

As I settle into my seat in American History, I text Fezco.

"American History for the win."

"lol glad you made it shawty. Learn some good shit."

"Can I come over today? I can pick up some pizza." for the first time, Fez read my message and didn't reply. He didn't reply for an hour! I send another.

"Does that mean yes? lol"

"Nah baby. not today. I got some business."

I narrow my eyes at his words. I've sat through tons of his sales. They pop up whenever and only stay for 10 minutes at most.

"Why?"

"I got business baby."

"Wtf... for real? I can't come chill with you while you sell?"

"Not tonight baby. I'm sorry."

Where does a brain automatically go when told no with little explanation? To overthinking land. The most fucked up place on earth. For the remaining of the morning, my mind paced, ran, no... it sprinted! Just at the thought of Fez refusing my company had my anxiety peaked at an all-time high.

My shaking hands pull up the shorts of my cheer uniform. A pep rally at lunch was the perfect way for my mind to be lifted... NOT! Maddy watches as I huff, my shaking hands applying the rhinestones to my eyes. "Bitch, you look like you're going to puke." She takes the rhinestones from me and continues the job. "Are you sick?" Cassie asks as she parts her hair, ready to apply her set of stones.

"No. I'm fine." Maddy looks right into my eyes, reading me like a book. "Relationships suck don't they?" I disagree, "No, Fez is great." "But you're upset with him." "He just told me not to come over tonight. Kinda pisses me off." Maddy stands, in outrage. "He told you not to come over? What the fuck? Then you're not his girl!" I stand up feeling energy coursing through my blood. "He said he had fucking business. Like... I've sat there for hours on end watching him sell. What the fuck does he think I'm going to do? Rat him out?"

Maddy bites the inside of her cheek, "Girl, what if he's got some hooker coming to buy? That's why you can't be there." My mouth falls agar, the realization coming together. "Oh my god." I cross my arms, my jaw clenching. "I'm going to kill him."

Hours after practice ends, I hop on my bike and pedal as fast as I can. I round the corner of Fez's street, his apartment looking like a haven in the falling rain. I stop under the awning, leaning my bike against the wall, next to a bike that's already present. I glare at the handlebars, "That motherfucker." I stomp to the door, twisting the knob and entering. "Whoa! What the fuck-" I storm past Ash, determined to beat a bitches ass.

~

-Fezco-

I flip the screen of my phone checking for a notification. None. Damn she really being like that for real. I shake my head, blowing out the smoke. I stack another pile of cash on the counter making sure it's all there. The radio beeps, "Yo, who is it, man?" Through the radio static, he speaks, "Rue."

I pull a drag of the blunt and place another pile on the counter. "No, bro, tell her to come back later." Just as the words exit my mouth, Rue prances through my house. "Too late, bitch." She flips me off as she walks down the hall. "Yo, hold on, hold on. You can't be in here right now." She nods her head at my stack of cash, “I see you cash money.”

I follow her as she opens the door to my room and enters. "Yo, Where's (Y/n)?" She hollers from my room. I step foot in the room with frustration all over my face. "Yo, Rue, you gotta go."

She pulls her shoes off, stealing a pair of my socks. "I need some OCs and some socks." "I can't help you right now. You gotta go. Yo, for real, Rue. I ain't fuckin' playing with you. Come on. You can't be in here."

"Look, Fez, I'm fucking drenched. Okay? And, uh... I'm out of drugs. So... Don't be a dick."

This girl has got me to my point. Between her and (y/n) I'm finna blow up. "Oh, my God. That's not my fucking problem. You gotta get up out of my house right now before these motherfuckers come through." She shrugs pushing past me, "All I need is a couple of OCs and some Xannies. That's all I need, and I can be gone."

"Yo, I'm trying to tell you, I don't got shit right now. Like... Come back in a few hours, I got you, whatever you need. But right now, you gotta get the fuck up outta my house. My guy's about to come through here. I don't want you here when he gets here, you understand?" I plead as she flips over my couch. "Give me drugs."

Suddenly the door opens and Ash exclaims, "Whoa! What the fuck-" The door slams shut and hard footsteps ring through the house. "You wanna tell me why the fuck I can't be here but you can invite some bitch over? Huh?" (Y/n) screams, coming up into my face. "What?" She shakes her head, "That's fucking why! Because you got some other bitch around here. If you don't want me Fez, fucking say it!"

I watch as her face grows red from her yelling. "I don't know what the fuck you on about. The fuck you doin here, baby?" "Why the fuck can't you have me here, Fez? I'd like to fucking know." I shake my head, “ baby, you acting wild as fuck. Stop it. I got business. You and Rue have to get out. Right now.”

(Y/n) gets on her tiptoes, getting into my face again. Her eyes were dark, as a fucking storm. I've never seen her this pissed. "You fuckin her?" "WHO?"

"This is like a reality show," Rue mumbles from the couch. I rub my eyes, my frustration to its limit. "Baby, you gotta go!" "I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna sit here and wait." (Y/n) turns on her heels, walking around the arm of the couch and sitting next to Rue. "Baby, come on. Don't act like this. I got some people rolling through." She stays silent in her position. The phone starts to vibrate indicating their arrival. I glare at the two girls on the couch. "I could fucking kill y’all right now."

I grab the cash stuffing it into the brown bag, "Yo, Ash, they're here."

I walk over to (y/n). I lean down pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Baby, this is serious. Both of you just stay right there, keep your mouth shut, and be cool. These dudes ain't fucking around." I reach down between the cushions to get the gun and load it. "Why do you need that?" (Y/n) questions. Her voice is small now compared to her outburst a few minutes ago. I stare at her innocent eyes, this ain't no place for her. "Same reason you didn't need to be here, ma. Just chill for me." I press another kiss to her head.

~

Fez cocks the gun, taking a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to come uninvited. Fez places his hand on my cheek. He stares directly into my soul. "Baby, you gotta listen to me. Just stay chill. I got you." I nod in his hold.

Two sets of footsteps enter the home. I turn to see two men, one more definitely the boss. I knew Fez was a dealer, but I had no idea he was a second man down from the big leagues.

Rue scoots closer to me, her legs lapping over my thighs. We look at each other knowing we both made a mistake coming here.

The men make their way into the home, the skinny one, ungroomed, clearly a user of harder drugs, and definitely the gopher for the other man.

This other man is a radiating hazard. The face tats proved the point. The was a man of evil behavior. Fez sat opposite Rue and I, keeping a clear view of the entire room, the gun tucked between the cushions. The man smiles at us with dirty teeth. He pushes his hand out, dirt-caked in his skin. "My name is Mouse. It's a pleasure to meet you." I lift my hand towards his. As soon as I'm in reach he yanks my hand up, planting a kiss on my skin. Mouse smirks up at Fez, "This your bitch? Or are these both your bitches, player?" Mouse runs his index finger over my ear, pulling my hair away from my face. I shutter, silently pleading for Fez to interfere.

Fez watches as mouse toys with me. He stares right into my eyes, “that’s my girl. Rue’s on the right. She’s like my sister, man.”

Mouse hums, he takes a strand of my hair, dragging his silver blade over it. In a second he swipes up, cutting an inch of my hair in his fingers. I whimper as Mouse leans down, resting his hands on my shoulders. Fez shifts in his seat, his fingers dipping between the cushions. “You a lucky guy.”

Fez glares at Mouse. Holding it together he maintains his voice mellow, “let’s get back to it, man.” Mouse raises his hands off of me slowly.

“Yo, Custer, toss me that bag.” The other guy, Custer, throws the bag. Mouse sets the suitcase on the coffee table. Once unzipped get reveals a treasure of drugs. I look up to Fez in shock. I didn’t understand how deeply he ran.

“All right, check it. I got a 100 OP-OC 80s, 500 Xanny bars, 500 20s of Addy. I'm low on Vikes, so if you wanna cop some Vikes, you better cop 'em today, 'cause I got, like, 50 left. I got a quap of that Cali medicinal, and an ounce of Molly. Custer, what's the math on that?” After a minute of Mouse staring into our frames, Custer finally speaks. "Uh, 25, 15, and 1,100, 35, 77, and 25... 7,750." Fez passes the bag of cash over to Mouse, "Here."

Mouse glances up at Fez from the case, "Sure you don't want no Fentanyl?" Oh. my. god. Where the fuck am I? This has turned from one of my faviort places to now the most scarriest version of hell I could conjure. The intense uncomfet from the guests are overwhelming.

"Nah, man, I'm cool off that shit. There's too many ODs, and I don't want the heat." Mouse then turns his head to us. "How about you two? You ever try Fentanyl?" Rue peeps quietly, "No." Mouse raises his brows at me.

My breathing picks up as Mouse narrows in. "You never tried it?"

Fez takes a step closer, calm as ever. "No, she's good, bruh." Mouse scoffs, "Gonna let ya boy talk for you?" I look at Fez from the corner of my eyes. "I... I don't..." Mouse grabs my chin softly, tearing prickling up in my eyes as I stare at Fez. "Don't look at him. Look at me." He smirks at me before asking again. "You ever try it?"

Fez interjects once more. "Yo, for real, bruh. I don't want them fucking with that shit."

Mouse ignores Fez, talking to Rue and me, "You know that feeling when you come so hard that you can't feel or hear shit? You like that feeling?" All in a blur Rue answers and suddenly I have a knife to my lips. "Go on, open up, dollface." Fez stares at me with wide eyes. What the fuck am I supposed to do? My lip quivers as I attempt to reject the offer. "I don't want it. I... I have to-" "Nah, come on." Mouse demands. "We can do it at the same time. On three." He smirks at Rue, her own does of fet on a separate knife. "One..." God, please... "Two..." Fez fucking do something... "Three..." My lips go over the cold metal simultaneously with Rue. "Yeah, good girls."

I watch Fez as I pull away from the knife. What am I suppose to feel like... Oh, shit... I let my head fall feeling weightless. I can't move, but I feel so fucking good, why do I want to?

"Fezz," I mumble against the couch arm. "Aw, Shawty all fucked up." Mouse laughs as he takes a seat next to Rue, slinging her legs on his lap.

"It hits quick. You like the way that feels?" I hear the voices slowly, pure joy coursing through my blood. I wish I could comprehend my words. I want to dance with Fez in the living room, but I can't move.

-Fezco-

She's just fucking laying there motionless. She never even tripped acid or rolled molly. She doesn't even know where she's at.

"You want a couple of patches, girl?" Mouse asks Rue, gaining her response, "Okay." Mouse sticks two patches on Rue's legs, drumming at her skin. "It's gonna cost you 300."Rue doesn't speak causing Mouse to antagonize, "Come on. Pay up, little sis." "I only have two dollars." Mouse demands, "I said 300."

"Yo, Mouse. Let me pay for it, man." I state, my eyes never leaving (Y/n) face as she slides lower into the couch. "I thought you were too good for Fentanyl. What is it? Everybody's changing their motherfucking minds on me? If she can't afford it, she gonna have to find another way of paying me. Straight up."

"Yo, man, just let me pay for it. I got the money right here. Here." I pull out $300 cash handing it to him. he snatches it quickly, "Dang. Big brother must love you. It's gonna cost you 600 now, man."

"Damn. You gonna do me like that, bruh?" "Yeah, I'm gonna do you like that. Straight up. Get that shit. There it is. I just made your bitch feel amazing. It's always a pleasure doing business with you." Mouse passes the rest of the Fentanyl over as he takes the other $300. Mouse and Custer leave with no other words. I toss the bag of fet at Ash. "Go flush that shit down the toilet, and go grab the Narcan, just in case." I look down at the two girls with guilt.

Rue's body leaned over on (Y/n) as she leans on the arm of the couch. "I'm so happy," Rue mumbles softly.

I sit on my knees petting (Y/n)'s head. "I'm so sorry, ma." She runs her finger against my arm, "I feel so good." She hums with a small smile, her eyes closed in bliss. "I know baby."

[sleptwithinthesun]

I NEED Steve reacting to Eddie’s kitten sneezes.

lmao don't we all. please enjoy a humble 1.8K fic, written straight from my goddamn soul because im insane about these two :)

It's beyond late when Steve pulls up to the Munson trailer, almost breathless with worry, shaking with the amount of pure anxiety and adrenaline in his system right now. He hates this, so much more than words will ever be able to express. The Upside Down has a special way of fucking with his psyche, pulling everything he's worked so hard to push down up to the surface and letting it breathe for the first time in years, life regained even though it was buried long ago. But for them, buried never really seems to mean dead, does it?

He pulls his Members Only jacket tighter around himself, the normally-calming night breeze biting into him. April in Hawkins is no joke, with the temperatures tending to be pleasantly cool during the day and plummeting back down during the night. As he approaches the trailer, he notices that most of the lights are still on, meaning that Eddie might still be awake. At least Steve won't be waking him up.

Three knocks on the door are all it takes for him to hear movement from inside the trailer, and he breathes out a sigh of relief as Eddie's footsteps move closer to the door. "Uncle Wayne? I thought you weren't going to be back until Thur—" He cuts himself off as soon as he sees Steve standing there, obviously taken aback. To his credit, though, his recovery is swift, even as tension bleeds into his limbs. "Oh, uh, hi. What're you... what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," Steve starts, drinking in the sight of Eddie. It's a relief to see him like this, messy-haired and in baggy pajamas and breathing, "for barging in on you. I just... I needed to make sure you were okay."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes how stupid they sound. He could have just picked up the phone and called him, there was no need to drive all the way over here, not really, but Steve needed to see. To confirm Eddie's safety with his own eyes.

Eddie stares at him for a moment, before nodding, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I get that. Do you want to come in? It's a bit of a mess since I was cleaning, but the couch is fine." He lets Steve lead the way before following, closing the door behind the two of them and locking it, like he doesn't expect Steve to leave for a while. "Are you alright?"

Steve laughs humorlessly, sitting on the couch and looking down at his clasped hands. "No, not really."

To his surprise, Eddie wastes no time taking a seat next to him. "Do you, I don't know, maybe want to talk about it? I've been told I'm a good listener."

"And who told you that?"

"Most of the people who actually talk to me," Eddie says, shrugging. "My uncle, for one. Gareth. Dustin. And, uh, that's kind of it."

Steve leans back, turning his head so that he's looking at the other man. Eddie's not quite looking at him, in a similar position to Steve's just moments previous, his blank gaze transfixed on a bottle of cleaning spray that he must have left on the coffee table. "That's still not a lot."

"Not a lot of people wanted to talk to me even before I was a fugitive, Harrington."

"Fair point," Steve concedes. "Are you sure? I don't want to, like, crash your night or whatever."

Eddie scoffs, finally glancing over at Steve, even if it just lasts for a second. "Don't worry, you're not crashing anything. So far, it's just been a party between me and the dust bunnies." At Steve's tired expression, he sobers slightly. "It can wait until tomorrow, seriously. Besides, I wasn't going to be sleeping anyway."

He brings his legs up to sit in lotus style, and weirdly enough seems comfortable in it, relaxing against the back of the couch. His slumped posture causes his T-shirt to practically swallow him. It depicts the Metallica logo, because really, what else would Eddie sleep in? His sweatpants even have tiny bolts of lightning printed all over them. "What's bugging you?"

"The Upside Down," Steve tells him, averting his gaze again, absently cracking his knuckles, one by one, as he speaks. "I don't know if you've felt it, too, but it, like... it plays with your mind, man. Makes you remember things you don't want to, things you didn't even think you could remember anymore. And I don't know, I guess I've just been a bit paranoid about it all."

"I know what that's like." He glances over, sees Eddie with that far-off look again, and looks away. "Hell, I haven't slept in almost six days because of the nightmares." His nose twitches, and he inhales sharply, breaths stuttering with what Steve assumes to be emotion. "It's all just on repeat, right? Childhood memories combined with everything that happened, warping until they're the same fucking thing and—"

"—there's no escape," Steve finishes. "Yeah. It's exactly like that."

Silence stretches between the two of them, oddly comfortable, until Eddie breaks it with a sudden gasp. "hh'hg'nxt! gKT! hih'hh'kXsht!"

"Bless you," Steve tells him, taken aback by the suddenness of the triple. In the past week, he's gotten used to Eddie's common sneezes. Sort of. He's no longer surprised by the amount of them, at least.

"Ugh, sorry," Eddie mumbles, wiping at his nose with ringless fingers. "It's all this goddamn dust from cleaning. I'm listening if you still want to talk, I promise. Might just interrupt you a couple times."

"That's alright. I didn't really have much more to say, anyway, just needed someone to talk to." He shifts his weight, leaning forward and preparing to stand. "Sorry, again, for barging in on you."

Eddie looks up from where he's rubbing at his nose, which is already turning pink near his nostrils. "Wait, are you trying to leave?"

"Um, yes?"

"Dumbass," Eddie says, shaking his head affectionately. "Stay here. It's pitch-fucking-black outside, you really think I can let you drive in good conscience? I've got a couch and a bedroom, so take your pick. Or don't, I can always choose for you." With that, he turns away and crushes another set of sneezes into his shoulder. Steve's impressed. Only six since he's been here, which has to be some kind of all-time low. Eddie was a mess in the warehouse with all the dirt and dust. "h'kTt! ktsh! nGxt!"

Steve glances around, hoping there's a tissue box in the room, and comes up empty. "Bless you."

"Thanks." He stands up, pressing his bandana against his nose, and holds out his free hand to Steve. "I'm putting you in an actual bed, okay? No arguing."

"But—"

"That's an argument. You just sealed your fate," Eddie says, grabbing his hand when Steve doesn't go for his and dragging him down the hall. "My room."

Steve huffs out a breath, allowing Eddie to guide him for a few moments before an actual argument pops into his head. "You're just going to get worse if you stay in the living room, though. I mean, you said it yourself, it's all the dust."

Eddie actually pauses at that, contemplating, then keeps moving forward. "Well, then, I suppose we'll just have to share."

Oh.

See, the thing about Eddie Munson is that while he may be lacking in actual confidence in himself, once there's an idea in his mind, there's nothing anyone can do to talk him out of it. Meaning, Steve's about to spend the rest of the night in his bed. With him.

Jesus Christ.

"Fine," he manages, shrugging his jacket off the moment Eddie lets go of his wrist, intent on getting this over with as soon as possible. While a part of him is secretly thrilled at the prospect, the majority of him is anxious as hell. Steve's pretty sure he hasn't had a good night's sleep ever since he heard Chrissy was murdered.

Steve's still in pajamas, at least, so he doesn't have to borrow any of Eddie's clothes. He drapes his jacket over the back of the chair in the room, then glances over at his apparent bedmate for the night. "Are you coming?"

"Y-yeah, just gohhtta..." He breathes slowly for a couple seconds, knuckle pressed against his nose, but still loses the fight. "Shit, fuck, oh my GohhdT'sh! gxt'uh! mpt'shh!"

"Stop stifling. For the love of God, how many times do I have to tell you this? You're just going to make it worse," Steve says, walking over to the bed and lifting the covers. Maybe this won't be so bad.

Eddie stares at him for a second, nose still twitchy. "You know what, you're bossy. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

"Sure," he says, with a private roll of his eyes before his tone softens. "Get in. You need to sleep too, Eddie."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Eddie grumbles as he crosses over to the bed, grabbing a tissue on the way and quietly blowing his nose. There's a whole box of them on the floor, Steve realizes, carefully placed so that they're within easy reach, with a small wire trash can right next to them. "I'm glad you're staying."

He exhales slowly as Eddie turns off the lights. "I am, too," he admits to the ceiling.

"I'm glad that you're glad," Eddie says, sliding into bed next to him.

"Don't get all sappy on me now, Munson."

"Me? Sappy? Unheard of."

Steve laughs quietly, the last sound before they both start settling down. Now that he's in bed with the lights off, all the exhaustion he's been carrying around finally sinks into him, and he wants nothing more than to sleep. He's almost there, too, when Eddie suddenly crumples with an actual fit of uncovered sneezes.

"h'iTshh'uh! ik'tsCh! hih'kshh! kSHh! Fuck, sorry— h'isHh! ishH'uh!" He's panting by the end of it, sniffling back sudden congestion and barely even noticing what he's just revealed.

"Are you kidding me?" Steve asks, pushing himself up on his elbow. "You've been stifling all this time for that?"

He can only imagine the quizzical look Eddie's sending him. "Fuck, Eddie, that's adorable. You sound like a kitten. I mean, that's barely even different from when you stifle, Christ, why do you even bother?"

"Shut up," Eddie whines, rolling over so that he's facing Steve and poking him on the face, landing just to the side of the incredulous smile that's gracing his face. "Go to sleep."

Miracles upon miracles, he does end up sleeping through the night. And when he wakes up in the morning, Eddie is curled into his side, sinuses swollen and exhaling wheezily before Steve pulls him out of the dust-ridden trailer and into the fresh April air so that he can actually breathe.

[unattainablesillygoose]

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Collage!au (I imagined Andrew's Peter for this one, but I don't specify which one it is so you can imagine whichever Peter you want 🙃)

Prompt(s):

1. you straddle your lovers thighs (fluffy kind of way, that's how I decided to portray it)

2. Your lover almost dies and that's when it clicks for you (I took this as the reader realizes they love Peter)

3. Not being able to let them go when you have them in your arms

Warnings: none :)

Summary: Peter comes out of a fight pretty beat up and in bad shape. He swings over to Y/n's dorm to hold her

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n sat in her dorm, reading a book on her bed. She pulled her fluffy blanket closer to her chest, the cold draft from her open window sending a chill down her spine. As much as she hated being up past midnight on a school night, especially with finals coming up, she couldn't sleep until she knew Peter was okay. She'd seen the lizard man throw him through a brick wall on the news, and that was over three hours ago. She didn't usually worry this much about where he was or how badly he was hurt. But she should have heard something by now.

'damnit' she thought. 'now I've got to start this page over.'

She was usually so level headed, able to keep her focus even in a stressful situation, but all day her hearts been pounding and her hands have been shaky and sweaty. She knew cognitively she was likely in an anxiety attack, but considering she was never even diagnosed with anxiety, she refused to believe she was.

'It's just stress' she thought. 'finals are this week, that lizard mutant is on the streets; logically, anyone would be stressed.' she shook her head, a shiver wracking her body. She didn't want to close her window yet. There was still the chance that he'd come.

Meanwhile, a very injured Peter made his way to a secluded alleyway. He'd only just gotten away, and he definitely couldn't go to the hospital without a good reason. He could tell them he was in a car crash, but then they'd call the police and he'd be questioned about where it happened and how, where his car was, who was involved, etc. It'd just become a whole ordeal. He just needed to get the deeper gashes stitched or stapled so he didn't bleed out. He could do that.

Y/n had stashed a first aide kit with everything he could possibly need in it. Including suture kits and self staples, like the ones you'd take into the wilderness in case of a deep cut. Well, he had a deep cut. And without Y/n, he couldn't stitch the cuts, so the staples would have to do for now. He collapsed onto the roof of their dorms, where they'd stashed the kit, and he dropped to sit against the wall. Exhausted, he opened the kit and set to work on the deepest cuts that needed the most attention. 'cuts' would be putting it lightly, there were quite literally claw marks in his skin. Once he'd tended to the ones that were serious, he put the kit back where it went and swung down to Y/n's window.

She'd gotten lost in thought again, her book now on her nightstand, as she gave up on trying to read. She heard him grunt in pain as he nearly fell into her dorm room. She jumped up, rushing to his side to help him in. "Oh my god, Peter!" She exclaimed, seeing his tattered and bloody suit. "I already took care of the deep ones, the others aren't too serious and should heal pretty quickly." He said with a groan as she helped him to his feet. "God, I was so worried about you! I saw on the news that he'd thrown you through a brick wall." She said concerned. He chuckled weakly. "Yeah, my back still hurts." He joked, trying to ease the tension. She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a small smile.

She sat him on her bed, turning to grab her first aid kit. It wasn't much, not as much as the one on the roof, but he had some cuts that needed cleaned. Because he wouldn't heal properly if they got infected. But before she could leave, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, the momentum pulling her into his lap. "It can wait." He said softly. "Peter, if they get infected-" she started before he cut her off. "I won't die if we wait ten minutes." He teased. "I just wanna hold you for a little while." He said sincerely, letting himself be vulnerable for a moment. She smiled softly, adjusting so she straddled his thighs, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and tightly secured his arms around her waist, closing his eyes and breathing her in.

Her perfume that smelled of roses and lilies, her shampoo that smelled of coconut and honey, her favorite lotion she wore called 'champagne toast'. He had to remind himself that she was safe. That he himself was safe too, that he'd successfully made it home to her. He sighed a breath of relief, allowing himself to soak her in.

She ran her fingers through his hair, resting her temple against his. She loved intimate moments like these, where Peter allowed himself to openly feel these raw emotions. He wasn't very good at expressing what was wrong, or what he needed in that moment to help him feel better. He was so grateful for his Y/n, who's one of the only people he has left that has the patience, kindness and heart to help him. He loved that about her. He loved everything about her, but that was one of his favorite things. He pulled his head back, looking at her soft smile. "I love you." She whispered, tracing shapes into his chest with her finger. His eyes widened and he smiled. She smiled bashfully, still focusing on the shapes and letters she's tracing.

"I only realized today just how much I do. Because when I saw what happened on the news and thought you might not make it back, I was scared." She said, looking him in the eyes as she teared up. He nodded, listening intently, his own eyes gathering tears. "God, Peter, I was so scared." She whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "Hey, hey," he murmured softly, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm right here." He said. "And I'm not going anywhere." He said softly. "And just for the record, I love you too, Y/n/n." He quipped playfully, but she knew he meant it, and she knew it was sincere.

She smiled, leaning her forehead against his. "We need to get you cleaned up." She chuckled. "Uh-uh. I'm not letting you go." He said, tightening his grip slightly to enunciate his point. "Well then, I guess I'll just have to bathe with you." She teased. "I guess so." He said, gripping her thighs and picking her up, eliciting a delighted squeal from Y/n. She giggled as he carried her into her bathroom, shutting the door with his foot.

|End scene, roll credits|

•writing: me 🤭

•editing: me 🤪

•plot: mine 😙🤌

I hope you enjoyed! Make sure to like and follow for more! (Ask box is open 😏)

[batwhimpix]

An Interview with Former Takarazuka Top Star Asumi Rio: The Laidback Personality Behind the Handsome Face

(Translated by me 8/19/2021)

While still a member of the Takarazuka Revue, Asumi Rio was known for her sensitive acting which digs deep into the heart of each role, her crystal-clear vocals, and her captivating stage presence. As the top star of Flower Troupe, she gained an immense level of popularity. Now, it has been one year since her retirement from the company. She has expanded her repertoire from stage to screen, and continues to showcase new sides to her talent. In her first name-bearing variety program, the Hulu Original "Asumi Rio's Atelier," Asumi-san learns new tips and techniques to "step up" both her lifestyle and her design sense. Totally different from her intense onstage aura, this program offers a chance to get to know Asumi-san's soft and relaxed offstage persona.

It's been a year and a half since you left the Takarazuka Revue. How would you describe that period of time for you, Asumi-san?

When I was in the Revue, because I had managed to enter the world of Takarazuka, which was my absolute favorite place, I felt strongly that I didn't want to have any regrets. So I was very motivated to work as hard as I could to polish my craft. I was completely lost in it, but within that, I always had my fans cheering me on, and the guidance of so many around me. In the last year and a half, I've realized all over again just how precious a thing that was.

Until I left, my only experience was on the stage, so stepping into the world on screen for the first time, a lot of totally new forms of expression were expected from me, and I felt a lot of anxiety. Parting from Takarazuka and living as just one individual human, every day is full of challenges. But that said, every day now is also rich with new experiences and new possibilities, so I've come to face that with a lot of gratitude.

While you were in Takarazuka, there was a very clear image, that of a perfect "otokoyaku," to aspire to. Now that you don't have that anymore, what kind of actress are you aiming to become?

There are a lot of qualities I have now precisely because I was an otokoyaku, and I think it's probably okay for me to just embrace that. As top [abbrev. "top star", the starring otokoyaku actress in each troupe], I was in a position where I had to lead the troupe, watch over and guide all the other actresses, and shape each production as the lead actress. I think I've picked up a lot of grit through that experience, and even as a woman, I think having a bit of a masculine edge in your lifestyle and how you deal with things can be a positive, right?

Even when I was playing otokoyaku roles, moreso than aiming for a particular ideal, I came at each role separately, like, this time I'm playing this kind of man, next time I'm playing this kind of man. It was like a gradual broadening of my horizons. Now I'm simply adding female roles to that roster, so it's kind of like the scope of roles available to me has doubled. When it comes to my outward appearance, as my hair grows out and I transition toward a more feminine look, I've been having all kinds of new discoveries, like, "Oh, this kind of styling makes me feel like this." Within my drama roles as well, I like those discoveries like, if I do it like this, won't it be interesting, or if I do this, I can get viewers to say, "Oh!" I want to keep digging to find those little moments where I can really surprise people within each role.

Since your retirement from Takarazuka, what overall on-set experience sticks out the most in your memory?

I think that has to be the first show I had the opportunity to take part in, "Ochoyan" [NHK serialized telenovella]. Until I was on that set, I always thought that the stage was the most incredible place in the world. I would never find anywhere else where every member is so unified in their vision, where everyone has so much pride in their troupe and so much love for the production they're building together, as in Takarazuka. Even now, I still think Takarazuka is a very special place, and my love for it hasn't changed.

But on the set of "Ochoyan," like Takarazuka, there were so many staff working to create this thing, who truly loved the work and brought all kinds of skills to the table to bring it to life. Among the cast as well, the atmosphere during recording, where all of us in the Tsurugame Family Theater [the name of the theater company employing main character Takei Chiyo as well as Asumi-san's character Takamine Ruriko] really did feel like a family, wasn't that different from Takarazuka at all. On the contrary, because our time together was limited just to the recording of this show, it felt like everyone valued that time all the more. Being on a set like that was a huge experience for me.

In Takarazuka, you had a very hectic schedule. As soon as one production closed you were already thinking about the next. I'm sure your lifestyle has changed in a big way since then. What kind of feelings do you have about that?

I retired and moved here to Tokyo right around the start of the pandemic. During the lockdown, when I was in my house all day, I realized how long the day really is. Suddenly it was up to me to decide how to spend all this time in the day. I could use it to rest or, if I had some area I was struggling with, I could use it for training too. I had a renewed realization that depending on my own feelings, I could choose to change myself in any number of ways.

These days, how do you find yourself spending the majority of your time?

These days, I'm doing a lot of types of work I'm totally new to, and working on sets with people I've only just met, so I'm still in a place where I spend a lot of time nervous. When I'm on a set I haven't gotten used to yet, my antenna is going in all different directions, so after I get home I try to relax as much as possible. In order to fully refresh myself and go into work the next day in high spirits and ready to face whatever comes, I've been making a conscious effort to be kind to myself.

What activities allow you to refresh your batteries the most?

Zoning out, and eating delicious food.

On "Asumi Rio's Atelier," you gave steaming rice in a donabe [TN: earthenware pot traditionally used to steam rice, supposedly more delicious than steaming in a rice cooker] a try for the first time, but what kinds of things do you eat most often?

As long as it tastes good, I'll happily eat anything. I like vegetables, meat, fish, and I love carbs, too. Ideally, I want to eat a good balance of a lot of different things.

Speaking of that program, how were the topics for each episode decided? Were you able to make requests?

For "Atelier" we had the general framework that I would be trying different activities I was interested in from the onset, so basically they asked me, "What kind of things are you interested in? What do you want to try?" And then...Yeah, first I had about 30, then we added about 30 more, so in total about 60, ideas that we pitched. The program staff wanted to include as many of my requests as they could, so actually, within each episode there are probably three or four different ones. In addition to that, there's an interview in each episode that relates back to that episode's theme. I enjoyed the chance to reflect on my Takarazuka era and memories from my childhood.

On the topic of your Takarazuka era, in your first interview for us, you said, "I wasn't necessarily aiming to become top star." But within the system of Takarazuka, to climb all the way to top star, you must have been aware of something within yourself that made you want to aim higher?

Let's see...Ever since I was an underclassman, I had a strong drive to improve as an otokoyaku. I wanted people to find my performance interesting, and I wanted to be seen as a necessary part of the production. I wanted to act a lot, and I wanted to sing a lot of songs that I love. I wanted to bathe in the spotlight, and I was happy when I got to wear more gorgeous costumes. If I really think back on those feelings now, first in the shinjinkouen junior performances featuring only actresses who have been with the company seven years or less, and then in performances at the smaller Bow Hall theater next to the Takarazuka Grand Theater, inevitably I started aiming for the lead roles that would allow me to stand on stage for the longest every time.

Somewhere along that road, when I was told I was being transferred from the troupe I was first inducted into, Moon Troupe, to Flower Troupe, this feeling that I had wanted to be the Moon Troupe's successor welled to the surface. And since that's the same as saying, "I wanted to be the top star of Moon Troupe," that was the first time I became aware of that goal. Every troupe in Takarazuka has its own character, though, so after my transfer, I was desperate to hurry up and become an otokoyaku befitting Flower Troupe first...

So as you worked to further your artistic development, there at the zenith was top star.

If you were to ask my underclassman self, the Top-sans are unbelievably incredible performers, and the more shinjinkouens you experience, the more closely you come to understanding just how incredible they are. Then as you spend more years with the company and find yourself in a position where you're working directly under the Top-san, you realize how much work they're really doing, and...The more you know, the more you lose the ability to say something like "I want to be the top star" carelessly.

And yet, you bore the heavy responsibility of a top star for five-and-a-half years. It's hard to imagine from your usual laidback attitude, but when it comes to your art, you're incredibly diligent and strong-willed. That gap is captivating.

When it comes to theater, I'm very picky. I mean, I'm way too stubborn for one thing. Especially in productions where I'm playing the lead role, I always have really strong feelings about how I want to perform things, and I'm not in a position where I can hesitate to convey that. It's important to listen to the opinions of various other people too, but when it comes down to it, if I have a clear idea of the direction I want things to proceed and direct things with that in mind, it makes things easier for everyone else, so I always tried to communicate my thoughts clearly and directly. If I'm delivering consistently good work, there's a persuasive power to that. Not only do the underclassmen naturally follow along, but the staff listen and respond to my requests as well.

But when you're making this kind of production, you do have to be pretty strict. But then, the real me is more of a people pleaser. I want everyone to like me, or more like, I don't want to be disliked. I didn't want the younger underclassmen to feel like I was unapproachable or like they couldn't talk to me because I was the top star. I wanted them to think of me like family. So outside matters relating to work, I tried to give off as relaxed a vibe as possible. Definitely, I think there was quite a gap between "on" and "off" for me.

Are there a lot of differences between "Asumi Rio the otokoyaku" and "Asumi Rio the actress?" How about between your stage name persona and your private self under your birth name?

I've lived under my stage name for so much longer than my birth name that I feel like, at this point, the parts of myself that belong to my real name are few and far between. I do have the feeling that, in some respect, I've grown up together with my stage name. In essence, while I was in Takarazuka, I didn't worry too much about creating a separate persona. Thanks to the kindness of my fans and the environment I was in, I felt like I could leave my otokoyaku persona on the stage and stay pretty close to my natural self everywhere else. I guess the only thing is, when I'm alone in my house, I revert to goblin mode. (laughs wryly) Like I'll have trouble getting myself to go take a bath, or I really should clean but my back hurts, etc., etc.

By contrast, now that I've graduated from being an otokoyaku, a lot of the things I'm doing as an actress are total firsts for me, so I think I feel more discomfort with my presentation now than I did then. There are times when I get really nervous, and then I get disappointed in myself for feeling that way. Like, until just a little while ago, I was in a position where I was responsible for keeping everyone's morale up. I would get up on that stage like, "It's alright, just leave it to me," so what am I all anxious for now? I often think about how much I still have to learn, and how badly I want to hurry up and learn it so I can show the results of my efforts.

Is there a particular ideal you're currently pursuing? What kind of actress do you want to become, and what kind of woman?

Since leaving Takarazuka, I've had a lot more opportunity to meet all kinds of new people. On every set I've been on, each of the actresses I meet has their own unique aura, and seeing their acting up close, I'm blown away by each of them. Among the staff as well, there are so many different kinds of professionals of all ages, and I often find myself inspired by their work ethic and lifestyle. I'd like to continue to enrich my life by learning from the amazing people I meet and experiencing many new things, and work to become a more fully rounded human being.

*Bracketed notes not marked "TN" (Translator's Note) were present in the original article.

[adhd-mode-activate]

Sorry for the very long post :)))) I just have many Thoughts today and want to type them out

Sometimes I forget that other people didn't grow up in a neurodivergent house

Genuinely. I know some people had good homes and some had terrible ones growing up, and some were in between and you still don't know what to do about it. And I remember that and I do my best not to assume and when I hear of some of the things others had to go through growing up I want to envelop them in a hug and invite them into my own home.

but I forget that not everyone has the privilege (or chaos) of a neurodivergent home. While I'm the first in my family to get diagnosed with anything, no one in my family is neurotypical and we know that

my growing up years didn't consist of "well you can't have ADHD" or "You can't have learning disabilities," it was my mother's orderly, potentially OCD personality trying to learn how to raise a highly creative ADHD bundle of chaos. Sometimes we had really bad days. Or even weeks. Elementary math for a little while consisted of me crying as we spent three hours trying to work through flashcards, and I don't remember what we finally ended up doing to teach me math. But I do remember my father teaching me how to work with negative integers using Uno cards. And spelling for a while was a combination of pain, confusion, and rote memory, but my mom slowly learned that I don't read words as individual letters but groups of letters bunched together in no particular order, and taught me how to make sense of those little groupings and break them down. Now I can break down the names of all the chemicals in vitamins and I have better spelling skills than most other people in my field of study. But there were delightful days too. There were days when my siblings and I spontaneously grabbed the camping tent from the garage and set it up in the back yard and did all our school work outside. Some days when my parents looked at me and my siblings and went "yeah no there's no way you're learning anything from a textbook today" and my mom would reorganize her carefully created schedules so we didn't have to do anything. And then sometimes we'd pile into the car on a random Tuesday and go to the zoo or to a museum or even to the library and we'd wander around and laugh and whisper and exclaim and learn in a different way

Going to college made me realize how ADHD friendly my childhood was. In college you don't get a day when you feel like you're about to combust, you don't get to move your assignments around so that you speed through the topics you find easy and spend more time on the topics you find difficult and spread out your finals and final assignments over a couple of weeks to a month. I can't just ask my professors if I can write a poem instead of an essay as long as I get the gist of the assignment like I could sometimes with my mom. And I miss it. I miss it so much. I go home sometimes, but I've outgrown the daily rhythms of my family, and sometimes I desperately miss it. (a big part of my decision to get diagnosed, and my parents' support of it, was because we discussed the fact that I no longer have a world built to accommodate me, so I have to fight for that myself, and a diagnosis would help get me into a position where I could do that)

But I forget how rare a family like mine really is. Half my family has ADHD like me and the other half has their own way of viewing the world that I don't fully understand. We've all got varying degrees of social anxiety. We sometimes feed each other's anxiety and we sometimes help it. Sometimes we sound like we're speaking another languages because we've combined phrases from TV shows, movies, books, and words from other languages we know all together into our vocabulary. Sometimes we accidentally hurt each other, and sometimes we don't understand each other, but we all understand that we're different from each other and that's okay, and we are determined to break past cycles of extended family and communicate with each other and continue to build strong relationships with each other into adulthood.

And I know now not everyone gets that. And it just made me really sad thinking about that, remembering that as I was driving yesterday. So, I guess, all of that rambling and chaos and confusing semi-out-of-context explanation of my childhood to say...if you didn't have a home that taught you what it's like to be not only accepted for who you are, but truly welcomed for it, you can have mine. My mom and sister will gladly bake treats for you and probably embarrass me and make sure you're spoiled as you deserve.

And if you're neurodivergent and want to start a family of your own worried about how well you'll be able to raise a kid when taking care of yourself is hard enough....well, it's chaos. but it's a fun kind of chaos, and you'll be incredible.

[rogue-durin-16]

FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS

Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @wildcat1434

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.

There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.

However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.

As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.

My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.

I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.

"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.

I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."

"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."

Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.

"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."

"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.

Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.

When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.

I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.

I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.

I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.

There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.

On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.

The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.

Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.

I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.

"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"

"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.

"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.

"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.

"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"

"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"

"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"

"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."

"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."

"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."

"And what is it?"

"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."

I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.

"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"

"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."

"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."

"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.

"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.

"Ready?" He asked breathless.

"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.

"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."

"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"

"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."

"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"

"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."

"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"

"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"

"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.

With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.

I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.

When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.

"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.

"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."

"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.

Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.

[gamerwoo]

hellooo rockett-nim!! congratszzzz on de 8k!!!! well damn deserved!!

i was rereading TftP (again, for the nth time nyehe) when i read the part in Hansols' with 'Yeji's pregnancy scare', if its alrightt, can you write a drabble of sorts to that? i just kinda rlly wanna see how jihoon would reactt hihihihi

thankyouu, and happy hitorijanai! (i've been saying that to pipol, genuinely dunno why)

a/n: sooooo a lot of people asked about if like birth control or condoms exist in this universe. i feel like if they can make potions and shit for almost anything, that contraceptives do exist in some form, i’m just not sure how. same goes for pregnancy tests. i don’t think it’s necessarily a stick you pee on, but there’s definitely some way to figure it out, i just haven’t thought of how lmao. i don’t think modern day things would fit with this au, y’know? (also this doesn’t have anything to do w the drabble but i just wanted to say i’d like to be called just rocket please!!)

Warnings: mentions of sex (like, a lot of mentions) but there’s no actual sex that happens 

tftp masterlist

»»————-　　————-««

It was no secret Jihoon and Yeji had been having a lot of sex. Everyone was well aware that Jihoon was going through rut, so of course, Yeji was going to help him. And while maybe some people in the pack weren’t really the most careful when it came to sex, Jihoon and Yeji were one of the couples that nobody thought wanted a family right this second. Hell, even Mingyu and Danbi didn’t plan theirs, but they had little Jiwoo anyway.

But then one evening before Jihoon and Yeji were going to bed, she laid down on his chest like she always did while he gently stroked her soft ears, and she mentioned, “I haven’t had my period for the last week.”

Jihoon stopped. His hands stopped moving, he stopped breathing, and he didn’t even blink as he stared at the ceiling.

Yeji wasn’t one to gossip when it came to her and Jihoon’s relationship. She made sure he was the first to know that her period was late -- very late. She didn’t go telling any of the other mates, she went straight to Jihoon with the information.

But that didn’t mean none of the werewolves couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Um...” was all he managed to get out for a moment, “w-were you supposed to have gotten it already?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, lifting her head to look down at him, “around Sunday. Last Sunday.”

He had no idea what to say, so he just stared up into her green eyes, searching for some sort of answer that neither of them had. 

“I was gonna ask someone to go with me to the market tomorrow to get a test, but I just wanted to tell you first,” she told him.

“I’ll go,” he offered.

“Can we take one of the girls, too?”

So the next day, after an almost sleepless night on Jihoon’s part, Yeji, Jihoon, Soomin, Wonwoo, and Joshua went to the market. Yeji complained about the audience, but Josh just laughed and told her everyone already knew about the situation.

“Living with people with unnaturally good hearing sucks, doesn’t it?” he teased.

Jihoon hardly got any sleep even though Yeji snored softly on his chest all night. While she wasn’t too nervous either way about having a baby with Jihoon -- she was more nervous about how he was going to react -- Jihoon was terrified. He didn’t think he was ready, he didn’t think they were ready, and he wanted to wait on it.

But if Yeji did end up being pregnant, he knew he was going to let her decide what to do next. Even if he was scared, he wasn’t going to tell her what to do with her own body.

Yeji called on Soomin to accompany her since she seemed to know a little bit about everything. Wonwoo wanted to go if Soomin was going, and Jihoon asked Josh just for some moral support from the person they’d considered their in-house doctor for the longest time. Even if Joshua didn’t know as much as a doctor did, he sort of taught himself a few things.

“Did you guys not use protection?” Wonwoo asked while the three wolves stood back and let the two girls talk at a booth they were buying the test from.

“We did...mostly,” Jihoon mumbled with a shrug. “Look, sometimes we just didn’t. You know how that time of the year gets, okay.”

“Yeah, we get it,” Joshua nodded with a chuckle. “So...what’s the plan then?”

“What plan?”

“If she’s pregnant?”

Yeji and Soomin turned away with two tests placed in a small bag, walking back toward the three boys.

Jihoon let out a nervous sigh as he watched his mate, “I have no idea.”

“Scared?” Wonwoo guessed, but there was no teasing tone in his voice. He was actually concerned for his brother.

Jihoon tried to offer a small smile to Yeji, who looked at him with a mix of nervousness and worry, “Terrified.”

-

Jihoon sat on the floor in the hallway outside the bathroom, while Soomin helped Yeji with the tests. In the living room, the pack sat and waited. They tried to go comfort Jihoon and settle his nerves, but he kept insisting he wanted to be alone. They could hear his nails tap nervously on the floor, though.

“What does that mean?” he finally heard Yeji ask.

There was silence.

Jihoon’s heart dropped.

Downstairs, the pack looked around at each other with wide eyes. They didn’t think Soomin’s silence could be anything good.

After a moment, the door opened, and Soomin slipped out without saying a word to Jihoon. She just glanced down at him with an unreadable expression before going to the den to find the rest of the pack.

Jihoon stood as Yeji stepped into the hall to find her mate. He stared down at her with anxiety written all over his face, his golden eyes searching her face for any sign of what the outcome was.

Finally, Yeji’s face broke into a smile. But not a bright smile that said ‘we’re starting a family’. It was almost a smirk that said ‘you were afraid for nothing’.

Jihoon let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, laughing out of relief as he wrapped his arms around his mate’s waist and hugged her tightly. It wasn’t that he was happy they weren’t having a baby together, he was just relieved it wasn’t happening before they were ready.

Downstairs, still awaiting any sort of verbal confirmation of what happened, Junhui finally asked, “Is the silence good or bad?”

Soomin just shook her head, “I’m not telling. They can tell you.”

Jihoon and Yeji decided to just not tell anyone of the outcome, and let them figure it out when her stomach never got any bigger.

»»————-　　————-««

8k celebration!!!

[sariahsue]

I just saw your take one Lilo&Stitch's approach to child protection and I was wondering if you could give some advice on how to write realistic stuff in this matter? I've been meaning to write a foster care/adoption fic and I do know the system in France must be at least a little different - and I will get down the research hole once I have a bit more time - but do you have any advice on how to write the kids reactions, the way parents deal with everything, the bonding part... things like this, so I can avoid clichés.

You don't have to answer though, feel free to ignore all this akdjwja I just figured there's no harm in asking XD

Yeah, sure! (To anyone else reading this who has a fic, feel free to send me a message if you have questions!) I’m definitely not the most knowledgeable person, but I know quite a bit. And I’m sure things are a bit different in France (hopefully their court system is better - yikes!) but I think the human element would be pretty similar, so here we go. 

First off, know that everyone is foster care is having a rough time constantly. Foster kids, workers, parents, foster parents, foster siblings. And no one knows what’s going on long term. There’s always a lot of uncertainty. Will the kids go home soon? Are parental rights going to be terminated at the next court date? Who knows???

The birth parents, at best, are going through a really tough time in their life, made worse because their kids were taken away from them. Some care about their kids, but they’re extremely self-centered and have zero parents skills. Some are manipulative and see foster care as free babysitting, and as long as they get to see their kid for an hour or so a week, this arrangement is fantastic for them! At worst, they’re just horrible human beings who abuse children. In general, most parents are clueless and selfish and pretty manipulative. They say they’re good parents and have no clue why their kids were taken away, even though their kid has cigarette burn marks on their back, or had to eat out of the garbage to survive because the were left alone for hours at a time when they were four, or worse. They have no clue at all what their behavior does to their kids, and they refuse to listen to anyone who tries to explain it to them.

No matter what type of parents they were, their kids ALWAYS love them and want to go home. Every single one of them. No matter the age. No matter what their home life put them through. Some of them aren’t old enough to understand why they can’t go home. Some have been in foster care for years and hardly remember living at home but still want to go home.  

It makes for complicated foster relationships sometimes because the kid will be attached to both birth and foster parents and feel guilty or conflicted or disloyal, or they’ll try really hard not to be attached to the foster parents in the first place. (I can think of only one exception to this. Two sisters who had been put into another home and liked the foster family and decided that they were going to be adopted by this family and were very excited about it... except the foster family had no plans to adopt them. I never learned what happened there.) 

And this is before accounting for the mental health struggles that often accompany the trauma most of them have been through. Some kids come in with anxiety that makes it difficult to trust new people. Some kids’ behavior is so extreme that it’s difficult for foster parents to take care of them, and so the kid moves around constantly. (If their behavior is too bad, they can sometimes be put into either a group home or residential, either temporarily or permanently.)

Parents are also entitled to visits, usually either weekly or every other week, at least while the goal is reunification (which is always starts out as). Before the pandemic, these usually took place in the DCF (Department of Children and Families is what it’s called in my state) office or in a visitation center. Sometimes the court orders that the visits be supervised so they don’t start promising their kids that they’re coming to get them next week. Often the workers think that sitting down the hallway not listening counts as supervision. 🙄 

With the pandemic, kids have been meeting over Zoom. That’s being phased out pretty soon here. Kids are almost always triggered by these visits. I mean, they look forward to them usually. Some kids are mad at their parents and don’t want to talk to them, but almost always, they want to see their parents. And almost always whatever behavior problems they had before is extremely worse for the next 2-5 days. (Which is terrible if you get a visit every week.) Some parents bail on these visits regularly. Some consistently bail on only birthdays and Christmas. We’ve learned not to tell the kid that they have a visit coming up until we know it’s definitely happening, or sometimes only right before we’re planning on leaving to go, because the anticipation of a visit is triggering or because getting stood up by your own mother is traumatizing. Sometimes you can get the kid’s therapist to write a note asking for the visits to be less frequent for the kid’s sake, but often that just means every other week instead of every week.

For foster families welcoming kids into their home, it’s a little different. They’re often more stable, and their whole life isn’t shifting around them. They’re just getting one or two kids into the family. The home dynamic is going to be a little different. Nothing huge, compared to what the foster kids are going through. It often depends on the kid how fast you get attached. Sometimes you know kids are only going to be there for a month because their normal foster family had to deal with an emergency, but the plan is to take them back soon. Sometimes they’re adorable babies and you get super attached really, really fast. Sometimes they’re so unhappy and scared that they make your home life completely miserable. Sometimes you’ve seen so many kids come and go over the years, and they’ve all left eventually, and your heart becomes guarded to protect you from that pain. But you get attached eventually anyway. 

And sometimes your parents are given a newborn whose goal is reunification and it’s love at first sight even though you don’t know if you can keep him, and then he’s put up for adoption when he’s two and you adopt him SO HARD. And then you make future foster kids upset because you can’t adopt them too. :( And even though they get adopted by friends of yours, they still feel conflicted over it four years later. 

You would think that a kid raised completely in their adoptive home from birth would have no problems, and sometimes that’s the case. Sometimes they still get upset about the adoption when they’re older because the foundational belief they have about themselves is that their mother didn’t want them, even though it’s not true. 

(This is the real-life story of my brother. We are the only family he’s ever known, and he’s 13 now, but he still has issues over being adopted. The other boy is 16 and is doing much better with his new family now, though he still has some issues. We had him for a very long time, and we were all happy that we know his adoptive family well because we stayed it contact with him, which almost never happens when a foster kid leaves.)

Oh, I forgot one thing. Usually when kids first get to your house, they are perfect little angels for a while. Depending on the kid, it’s either a couple days or maybe even three months. It’s called the “honeymoon period.” Once their subconscious realizes that this is a safe place to work on their issues and they aren’t in physical danger, they start to process what they’ve been through. It comes out in a variety of ways. Behavioral issues, bedwetting, explosive anger, nightmares, etc.

A note about social workers: All the workers (at least in my state) constantly have too many cases. Like, double what they’re legally supposed to have. Most of them try hard to keep up. Some DO NOT CARE. Some are fantastic and put extra time in to go to the kid’s end-of-the-school-year recitals and build a relationship with them. They’re in charge of organizing visits and making sure the kids have everything set up and are generally important in the kid’s life. They’re required to visit once a month and make sure foster parents have all the right paperwork and arrange dentist visits and bring them to all their therapy appointments. (FYI, You get a piece of paper that says you’re the legal guardian. You have to show it to schools and doctors when you make arrangements for the kids. My mom also keeps a copy in her purse, just in case a kid starts screaming “HELP! SHE’S NOT MY MOM” in the middle of the store or something. It’s never happened, but you know, just in case.)

Also, you would think that they’re the constant in the kid’s life, but if the birth parents move, the case gets transferred to another office in the state, and so the social workers switch. I sincerely hope that’s not how things are done in France because it’s garbage for a lot of reasons.

Okay, I’ve written you an essay, but I hope it was a useful essay! Let me know if you have any more questions!

[itsadamcole]

bet pt. 2

fem!reader x adam cole

Reader and Adam come face to face after six months apart at Survivor Series ... “please, forgive me”

word count: 3.4k+

warnings: smut, angst, a lil bit fluffy

— hey hey, here’s part 2 of the short adam cole series .... on a side note, i’ve really been in the holiday spirit so i’ve started writing some christmas / fluffmas imagines ... the first two are scheduled to be posted december 1st and 2nd —

masterlist || part 1 || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

Survivor Series. The day you've been dreading for six months since you left Adam.

Six months ago, you walked out on the best and the worst thing that's ever happened to you. Six months ago, you lost a piece of yourself and turned to sleeping with your best friend, Tyler Breeze, just to fill that void.

But it's not filled. It'll never be filled. So you stopped about a month ago, and Tyler now has a girlfriend so nothing's weird between you two.

You've never gone back to Adam. It's taken everything in you to stay away from him. You've barely spoken to him in six months, but since he's NXT Champion and you're Raw Women's Champion, you both have matches at Survivor Series.

You sit in your dressing room, scared to leave. Scared to run into Adam or one of the Undisputed Era boys. It's your worst nightmare.

"Y/N! You're on in five minutes!" someone calls through your door.

Sighing, you get up and grab your title, throwing it over your shoulder. With your anxiety rising, you leave the room.

You don't know what you'll do if you see Adam. It's been so long and he's probably moved on. You haven't, but you've tried.

Once backstage, you stretch out. Your opponents, Smackdown Women's Champion Sasha Banks and NXT Women's Champion Io Shirai, into the small room.

"Hey, girlie," Sasha says. "You have an audience in catering."

You sigh and say, "If it's Adam then I don't care."

Sasha says, "Y/N, come on. I've told you before. That man is head over heels for you. Maybe the beginning was a lie or a bet or whatever it was but he truly loved you. I saw it. We all did."

Your music hits and you say, "I can't talk about this right now, Sasha. I have a match to focus on."

You make your entrance, forcing a smile onto your face as you step into the ring.

****

Adam's POV

She looks beautiful in her dark red gear. It's my favorite ring gear that she owns. It sparkles but is dark at the same time. Definitely her two personalities mixing together.

I miss her like hell. I haven't been able to move on from her. It's been six months and I'm still infatuated with her. I love her. I've loved her for so long. It pains me to see her. Rumor has it that she's seeing her friend, Tyler.

I stand in catering to watch her as the match begins. My match is next and I know they'll call me back any minute and I'll come face-to-face with her when she walks through those curtains.

She's distracted by something. Her footing is off and she's not selling moves like she usually does. Maybe Sasha told her she saw me in catering. I told her I was going to watch Y/N here on the TV.

"Yo, Cole," Kyle says, clapping me on the back. "Your match with Drew and Roman is next. Let's head backstage."

I say, "Yeah, okay." I leave the TV and walk backstage with Kyle, Roddy, and Bobby.

We get backstage and I see there is a TV. I watch it.

Roderick says, "Talk to her after your match. I know that you've been wanting to talk to her."

I sigh and say, "She doesn't want to talk to me. She doesn't even want to see me, Roddy. There's no point."

Bobby says, "You should still try instead of sulking."

I look over at Bobby and say, "She left me, Bobby. If she wanted to talk to me then she would have already." I'm starting to get heated.

Kyle says, "Adam, bro, calm down."

"You want me to calm down? Seriously?" I say, my voice rising. "You three are the reason I'm in this mess. You three came up with the bet and I accepted it because I was drunk and secretly was crushing on Y/N. I never should have accepted it because I fell in love with her and now she's fucking gone! I can't live without her, and the only reason I'm still in this damn company is because of the title around my waist. There's nothing else for me here because she's gone!"

What I didn't know was that Y/N's match ended and she came through the curtains in the backstage area with Sasha and Io. The guys were all looking behind me and that's when I realized she was standing right behind me, listening to every word.

****

Your POV

As you walk backstage, you can hear someone shouting.

"... I was drunk and secretly was crushing on Y/N. I never should have accepted it because I fell in love with her and now she's fucking gone! I can't live without her, and the only reason I'm still in this damn company is because of the title around my waist. There's nothing else for me here because she's gone!"

The voice is Adam's. He's shouting at the guys. You've never once heard him raise his voice at anyone, not unless it was important or serious.

You stand backstage with Sasha when Adam turns around and he sees you. His title is secured around his waist and he's wearing his black and gold gear with his Undisputed Era t-shirt.

There's nothing else for me here because she's gone. Those words stuck with you. If it wasn't for that title around his waist, he probably would have left WWE and gone to work with Ring of Honor again or maybe even AEW.

Drew McIntyre and Roman Reigns come backstage at this moment. The tension between everyone in the room is thick. Drew and Roman realize this and ask to make their entrances first.

Right before Adam makes his entrance, you rush out of the backstage room. Sasha right on your heels.

Tears have started running down your cheeks. You get to your locker room and throw your title on the couch.

Your win tonight means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that you won. Your happiness was swept away when you heard Adam ranting to the guys about you. Six months later and he's still trying to defend his lies.

He'd have left WWE if it wasn't for that title he's managed to hold for two and a half years. It's the only reason he's still in WWE.

You start to throw things around the locker room. You're upset, you're angry, and most of all, you're frustrated. Even after finding out about the bet and after he lied to get you to sleep with him, you still love him. Six months later you still love him. After everything, you'd go back to him.

Sasha grabs your wrists and says, "Y/N. Y/N, stop it. Please. Before you hurt yourself or break something super expensive."

You look at your best friend and cry, "Why do I still love him even after he lied to me? Why would I drop everything and go back to him if he asked me to? Why would I take him back?"

"Because deep down you know that he never lied to you," Sasha says. "You know that he actually loves you and it wasn't for some stupid bet he made with his friends. Love is crazy and makes us do crazy things."

You sniff and wipe away your tears. "Can we get out of here? I don't want to be here when his match is done because I know he'll want to come looking for me," you ask.

Sasha nods and says, "Of course. Get changed and we'll head back to the hotel."

You nod and change out of your ring gear and into your street clothes. You let Sasha borrow some extra clothes you had so the two of you can leave as soon as you're changed.

****

Back in the safety of your hotel room, you order room service and watch Grey's Anatomy on Netflix as you lay in bed.

There's a knock on your door at around midnight. You think it's Sasha coming to return the clothes she borrowed earlier so you answer the door.

It's not Sasha at your door. It's Adam Cole.

"What?" you ask. "It's late."

Adam says, "I looked for you after my match. I wanted to talk about what you heard."

You say, "I don't blame you for wanting to leave WWE since I left. I'd want to do the same thing if I was you."

He says, "I tried to leave the company. A few weeks after you left, I went to Regal and Triple H to get them to let me go. I was ready to drop my title just to leave the company but they convinced me to stay."

You look at Adam as he talks. This is going to be a long conversation so once he's done talking, you say, "Come inside, Adam. We can keep talking inside." You move to the side and he walks inside.

Closing the door, Adam says, "I get why you left. I lied to you a few times at the start but within two weeks, I called off the bet."

"Adam," you say.

He shakes his head and he says, "Let me explain."

You sit on the bed and look at him. "So explain," you say.

Adam walks and stands in front of you. He says, "The night of the bet, the four of us got drunk. We drank a lot and we started talking about relationships. I mentioned to them that I had a little thing for you and that's when Bobby came up with the bet. He said that there was no way that I'd be able to get you into bed. Kyle and Roddy joined his side. I accepted the bet because I was drunk and liked you for some time. I was the only single guy in the Undisputed Era. But, like the dumbass I am, I took it a step further and started a relationship. Two weeks after the relationship started, I completely called off the bet because you meant so much more to me than a stupid bet."

You say, "Being drunk doesn't excuse you from accepting it. It won't work on me."

He says, "I'm not done yet. After the bet ended, I told myself that I'd never tell you about it because of this happening with us. You getting mad and leaving. I'd never choose my career over you because I know in the long run, you'd always be there for me. Wrestling is something I'll do until I'm fifty or so but there's nothing for me after that until I met you. Then I messed everything up. You're even seeing someone else right now so I don't expect you to come back to me."

You sit and listen to every word. Once he's done talking, you say something. "I'm not seeing anyone right now. I've been single for the past six months, But if I asked you to retire right now, you'd do it?" you ask, testing him.

Adam nods and says, "Yes, I would. You mean more to me than a bet or than wrestling. I love you, even after all this time. Please, forgive me."

You sigh, "I have forgiven you, Adam. For the most part. I just can't forget what happened and what you said to me that day. You lied to me just to get me in bed. You lied to start a relationship with me. All you had to do was say, 'hey, Y/N. I like you and I'd like to take you out on a date' because I would have said yes. I liked you for so long, Adam. All you had to do ask me out."

He looks down at you and he says, "You don't have to forget because we can both grow from what happened. I'm a dumbass, I know. I was just nervous and in a way, the bet made me talk to you. I just want to make it up to you, Y/N. Let me make it up to you. Let me take you on that date. A real first date."

You look up at Adam and say, "I don't know. I don't fully trust you, Adam."

Adam tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear and he says, "I can make it up to you, Y/N. Let me at least try. I've learned from this and I want to show you that I've learned from this."

Your heart pounds in your chest as he touches you for the first time in six months. Without knowing it, you lean into his touch and close your eyes.

His hands rest on your cheeks for a second before he pulls you up so you're standing in front of him. You look up at Adam. "I'll think about it," you say, finally reply to what he said.

You feel Adam's hands leave your cheeks and slide to your waist. He pulls you closer to him. You're eye level with his chest before you look up at him with your eyes, meeting his pretty blue orbs.

"Can I start right now?" Adam asks as he starts to lean into you. You grab a fistful of his shirt, not knowing if you should back away or not.

Your lips brush against Adam's and you say, "I still need some time."

His lips move down to your neck and you gasp softly, tilting your head back a bit. Adam mumbles, "I need to make it up to you, Y/N." He starts to kiss your neck gently. Your hands slide into his hair as he picks you up by your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist.

Sighing as he kisses your neck, you give in and say, "God, make it up to me, Adam. Make it up to me all night if you want to. I need you."

You look down at Adam and he looks up at you, pulling away from your neck. He kisses you hungrily. Your lips move feverishly against his, both of you letting out soft moans into the kiss.

He lays you down on the bed and hovers over you, not breaking the kiss. He grinds his bulge against your clothed core. You moan into the kiss, reaching down and pulling Adam's shirt up over his head. That breaks the kiss momentarily but your lips connect again like magnets right after.

The passionate kiss becomes more intense when Adam slips his tongue into your mouth. His fingers dip into the waistband of your sweatpants, rubbing you slightly over your panties. You moan against his lips.

Adam's hands run up your body, slipping under the shirt you're wearing. He pushes up the shirt until his hands are on your breasts, massaging them. You gasp and moan, pulling back from the kiss. You lift your arms above your head so Adam can pull off your shirt. You never put on a bra when you got changed earlier.

He pushes up your shirt, kissing and sucking on your breasts. Your eyes close and you smile.

"You're so beautiful," Adam mumbles against the sensitive skin on your breasts. "I am so in love with you."

You sigh, "Less talking, Cole. More fucking."

Adam smirks and says, "With pleasure."

Within seconds, both your pants and Adam's pants are off with both your underwear. Adam hovers on top of you between your legs.

His lips are on yours, moving feverishly against yours. Your hands are on Adam's back, holding him close to you.

The tip of Adam's erect member runs through your wet folds, making you moan into the passionate kiss.

"Adam, baby," you mumble against his lips. "If you don't stop teasing me instead of fucking me, I'll walk out the door. I swear to God-" You're interrupted by Adam thrusting hard into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure. Your fingernails dig into his back.

He has a smirk on his lips and says, "You were saying?"

You stare up at him and move your hips so he's completely inside of you. "You gonna do something or are you just gonna lay there?" you ask.

Adam positions himself above you so he thrusts into you. Slowly but deeply. His hips are already flush against yours as he pushes your legs up so they rest against his arms.

He's kissing your neck as he thrusts his hips into you. Every few seconds, his thrusts get faster and harder. Your fingers slide down his back, definitely leaving scratch marks.

The room is filled with your moans and the sound of skin slapping together. A layer of sweat has appeared on both your bodies. It's a little warm in the room.

Your moans get louder the harder he moves. Your hands eventually make their way into his hair, gripping it a little bit as he moves.

Adam lets out soft groans as he thrusts harder and deeper into you than he ever has. You throw your head back and pant, "God, I love you so much. I love this so much."

He smiles and starts to kiss your neck. His thumb rubs your very sensitive clit, making you almost scream out his name. "Fuck, Adam. Just like that," you cry out.

The bed begins to creak and hit the wall a bit when Adam picks up speed again. Your legs begin to shake and your walls clench around Adam.

Adam realizes how close you are and he says in your ear, "Come for me, baby. I want you to come around me like you always do."

You don't wait anymore. You release around Adam, crying out his name. He pulls out right before he comes, releasing his seed all over your core and stomach. His fingers help you ride out your high.

Adam collapses beside you, grabbing his shirt and wiping you down. You pant and stare up at the ceiling.

You think about the day you left and you close your eyes.

Maybe you overreacted a little bit by leaving. You never heard the whole story, until today. You never let him fully explain.

You let out a sigh and ask, "Do you really love me? Even after six months apart?" Your eyes open and you look over at Adam.

Adam looks over at you and says, "I was ready to love you forever. Of course I love you after six months apart."

"Do you have any other secrets you need to tell me?" you ask.

He shakes his head and says, "I'm a completely open book to you now. No more secrets, I promise."

You lean over and press a lingering kiss to his lips. After a few seconds, you answer the question he asked you six months ago right before you walked out the door.

"Then yes," you say, not pulling back very far from the kiss.

He tilts his head and asks, "Yes, what?"

You smile and say, "I'm answering the question you asked me six months ago before I left. Yes."

Adam thinks for a second before he finally gets it. He smiles wide and puts his hands on your cheeks, pulling you down for another kiss. You giggle against his lips.

He rolls onto you then gets off the bed. He fetches his jeans, pulling something out. "I've carried this with me everyday for six months, hoping that one day you'll accept it," Adam says, coming back to the bed.

In his hand is the same velvet black box that he held out to you six months ago and inside, the same diamond oval engagement ring he presented to you.

You smile as he pulls out the ring, sliding it onto your left ring finger.

Adam lightly kisses you and says, "That's my promise that I will not keep another secret from you, unless it's a secret to surprise you in a good way."

You giggle and look at your ex-boyfriend turned fiancé before you say, "The guys and Sasha will be so confused when I show up with a ring on my finger."

"Let's worry about that tomorrow," Adam says. "I still have a lot to make up for and it might take all night."

And with that, you spend all night having the best make up sex with Adam. You don't fall asleep until the sun has begun to rise.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 21

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Wanda fluff, Loki fluff, we're getting a whole ass friendship! Dad sucks. The outfits are neat tho! Check the end for a mood board 😍

a/n: dress inspo and aesthetic visuals can be found here, here and here. (Paolo Sebastian, Firefly Path gowns and Viona Ielegems photography).

"Gi-i-irl..." Wanda drawled, seeing me arrive with Tony, both of us freshly showered and still hazy from the amazing orgasms. God only knew what she'd seen in both of our heads - if judging only by the vivid, crimson blush she spouted, it was definitely something very NSFW. Bruce already sat at the dinner table, quietly slurping his soup, his back and shoulders the most relaxed I'd ever seen. He gave me a knowing smile once he noticed my presence in my usual spot by his side.

The rest of the team appeared completely oblivious, preoccupied by their food.

"So, about the party. Got any costume ideas?" I cut straight to the chase, unwilling to wait for Wanda to start asking for details right in front of everyone.

Steve, Bucky, Pietro, Thor and Natasha all answered affirmative, the latter whacking Clint upside the head and firmly stating "no funny business". I couldn't help but wonder what kind of crazy shit the Bird had in mind and was kind of disappointed at Nat's intervention. A good chaotic moment was always worthwhile in my opinion!

The other bird, Sam, approached Bruce with caution as he wondered if the scientist was interested in doing a paired costume with him, only to be interrupted by Tony declaring, with childish glee, he had a "wicked project" that he and Bruce would be doing together. The scientist gave a resigned sigh and apologized.

Sam wasn't deterred by the slight setback; he approached Clint instead and after being given an okay from Natasha, the Birds decided to pair up. As they should, if you'd ask me.

"I have a costume but I need some accessories. Wanda, Lokes, join me on my lil' shopping trip?" I prompted, wanting everybody to be included. I was fully prepared for Loki to scoff and dismiss my invitation but the Asgardian nodded after a second of brief speechlessness. Didn't anyone invite him to birthday parties as a kid? Either way, Thor gave me a grateful smile, like a proper big brother. Both Asgardians had grown visibly closer during the past couple of months which made me hide a secretive smile behind a spoonful of soup.

It turned out, Loki hadn't exactly been introduced to the buzzing beehive that is NYC. He didn't get out much and when he needed to be somewhere, the man simply teleported to the desired destination. As convenient as it must've been, I still expressed my outrage at his lack of experience doing the usual "touristy" things that, in my opinion, every non-newyorker was obligated to do when visiting. Yes, even if said visitor had literally traveled across different galaxies.

Wanda wasn't much better in terms of city knowledge. According to her, she'd lived here for several years already but never bothered to go beyond the borders of the block surrounding the Avengers tower. The witch didn't have friends outside of her teammates (therapy. they all needed so much therapy. y'all...) so she simply saw no point in going anywhere beyond the local mall.

Which was trash. I mean, I loved Hot Topic and Forever 21 as much as any other young adult with depression and anxiety but it was literally impossible to wear clothes made out of cheap cotton and polyester all the time. I'm pretty sure I would have hives and ulcers if I attempted that.

"We're going on Sixth Avenue and that's final. No friend of mine will be wearing shit from Wal-Mart at a Stark party," I interrupted Wanda's defensive stuttering, using my other hand to summon an Uber.

"That is good advice," Loki, previously silent, added in a sweet tone. I counted on the fashionable Asgardian to be on my side and with his schmoozing skills, I didn't even have to drag Wanda inside the car by, like, her hair or whatever. The three of us barely fit into the small Toyota anyway.

A thought struck me when I had to consciously avoid stepping on Loki's leather shoes and keep away my elbow from Wanda's stomach. "Mister? I'll give you a hundred bucks cash if you turn around and drive to this address," I hurriedly rattled off my home address, delighting in the way the driver nearly did a U-turn at the mention of crispy dollar bills.

We arrived home quickly. Wanda gaped in mild disbelief at the size of my house while Loki looked about as interested as he'd ever be. His face was akin to an expression one made while smelling fresh manure. Opening the garage, I was greeted with an unpleasant surprise of my dad's outrageously painted Corvette standing neatly by my white Range Rover.

Loki looked and felt considerably less tense in the back of my car. The subtle signs of discomfort all but left his face replaced by slight wonder as I explained how to adjust the temperature and turn on the heated seats.

Dad met us at the gates. "You didn't come in to say hello," He pouted. His breath reeked like a five-day drinking binge hangover and he looked a dead man.

"We're in a hurry, dad. There's a lot to be done," I replied curtly, hoping to get rid of him fast. I hated being sober around my drunk father. My fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

"You're like your mother, always busy," Dad's laugh was coarse and bitter. "But at least you find time for Stark and his friends. That'll do your future real good," He clapped once on the hood of my car, heading back to the house with a wave of his hand, just in time to miss the disgusted shudder that ran through me.

I knew my dad well enough to understand the implications of what he meant by his words. In his world, fucking way up to the top was considered the norm. I'd rather cut off my own foot than use Tony that way.

"Sorry you had to see that. I thought he was still in Cali," I gritted my teeth, pulling out of the driveway.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that. I have no kind words regarding your father," Loki's look was sympathetic in the rearview mirror.

"Or your mother," Wanda added, messing with her seatbelt. Loki nodded tersely.

"Aight, aight," I sighed, set on improving the mood. "Let's not poop this party. We're getting some absolutely delicious beverages and wasting my money on outrageous pretty things. My treat."

Wanda's protests were drowned out by Motorhead and Loki's grumbling was overshadowed by Guns'n'Roses. Their resistance didn't stand a chance. Few blocks out, the witch was singing along to November Rain, heavily accented and terribly off-key, and the Asgardian watched New York city intently behind the protection of the tinted rear windows of my ride. He seemed mesmerized by the crowds and the variety of colorful shop fronts. This was the the one and only reason I eased off the gas pedal and drove the speed limit for once.

The atmosphere was, well, magical. Looking at my two companions, I discovered the familiar city anew with every question they asked, every remark they made. The desire to ask in turn about their homelands melted like the tension I was harbouring after the run-in with my father. Content and warm, I had my attention divided between Loki and Wanda juggling their wonder back-and-forth between themselves and the absolutely crazy NYC traffic.

So what if I parked in a no-parking zone just to get us the most delicious coffee in the city? Loki, the resident tea person, ordered himself something unpronounceable, something that made the barista twitch. Wanda got a sugary-sounding vanilla-white chocolate perversion. I just got a mocha, having had outgrown my adolescent desires to experiment with "how sweet can I make this coffee before I literally puke?" beverages.

With a laugh, I instructed them to pose in front of the nearest reflective surface to brag about our coffees on Instagram - this café deserved more recognition. My companions reluctantly obliged.

I wonder if the barista realized just who had bought the coffee - Loki was quite a media darling when it came to fangirls. Tony's PR team did a wonderful job on the Asgardian's redemption arc. The trickster only fueled the utter devotion his fangirls had for him by being extra nice and charming in every video I've seen. I guess you can't out-mindcontrol manners outta somebody, he was raised a prince after all.

It wasn't raining but the autumn chill seeped into the tiny spaces between my layers of clothing. I already managed to regret my fashionable dark academia inspired outfit at least twice, however the matching vibe all three of us had was positively dashing. Loki, wearing his usual onyx black and dark green. Wanda with a burgundy sweater dress and thigh high platformed boots - sweater dresses, out of all things, had no business looking this good on anybody. But she pulled it off.

"You said you've got a costume. Mind sharing what it is?" The witch said, curiously peeking into the windows of a nearby vintage boutique as we took our leisurely stroll with steaming paper cups keeping our fingers warm.

"A fairy dress. It was custom made for me last year and I actually didn't get to wear it. I need some jewelry to go with it," I explained, stopping to show a photo of the dress on my smartphone. "And some shoes, too. Let's hope the party will be held completely indoors, otherwise I'll freeze my ass off."

"Custom made?" Wanda squeaked, looking at the garment in wonder. Loki gave a vaguely approving nod.

"Yeah, there's a company that makes these fantasy dresses. You want one? What did you have in mind for your costume anyway?" I switched the topic quickly, seeing how Wanda withdrew into herself slightly. I heard from Peter she grew up poor, in the middle of a war and I didn't want to make her feel bad or anything. I wasn't good at these things...

"I thought maybe I could match with you," She replied, slowly taking a sip of her coffee.

"Sure. There are a couple of shops with really cute dresses that fit the aesthetic." Marchesa. We need a Marchesa store. And a Zuhair Murad - if there was one on this stretch of road. "What about you, Lokes? Anything in particular strike your fancy?" I asked our silent companion, frantically googling the information I needed.

"Black," He answered moodily.

"Boo, you whore," I rolled my eyes at his scoff. We had watched the Mean Girls recently and he got the reference, immediately raising a sarcastic eyebrow. "You know, you could do so much with this pale aristocratic look you've got going on. How about a medieval vampire?"

"Like Lestat? He's fucking hot," Wanda and I understood each other promptly. She jumped on the bandwagon immediately.

Combining my blunt honesty and her adorable fawning over a fictional bloodsucker, we managed to convince Loki into going on a hunt for brocaded, velvet suits and blouses with ruffles for his look. The trickster revolted at the mere suggestion of procuring some fake fangs, instead magically making them appear and showing them off in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, much to my and Wanda's delighted shrieking. He looked, I daresay, very attractive, like a porcelain figurine. Delicate but dangerous.

We arrived at the store that showcased beautiful, airy dresses of silk, chiffon and tulle. The lace was delicate and the seams invisible. I ushered Wanda into a dressing room with a shop attendant that was quietly but strictly instructed to not discuss the cost of the dresses and hide the price tags.

"I want it to be a gift. My friend here deserves no less than a magical experience," I explained quietly, winking at a bewildered Loki.

"Why did you do that?" He asked once Wanda was given a selection of several dresses in flattering colours and led into a separate dressing room.

"These dresses, they're special so they're a bit pricey. And knowing Wanda, she'll make a scene and refuse to let me buy them for her," I idly twirled my phone in my hands. "But every girl wants to be a princess and it's kinda sad she never got to be one. It's more than just a dress, it's more than feeling pretty, although it's a big part of it. She'll feel on top of the world."

Loki nodded. I'm certain he didn't understand it - being a man and all - and I wasn't sure I understood it completely, too. I never lacked pretty or expensive things, always got whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. But for a moment, I thought how it must've been for Wanda - seeing all these girls on TV, looking like pictures - and never having the chance to experience that. A concept that made me so sad, I was tempted to ask the customer service person for a glass of scotch. Being poor sounded depressing as hell.

Suddenly, Loki's cool, large hand landed on mine. "Thank you. I am certain Wanda will be the most beautiful lady at the ball."

I stared at him. Loki understood.

"Well, I... I don't know how finicky you are on gender labels for clothes, but there were a couple of blouses you might want to check out. They've got the neck ruffles and shit." My throat suddenly seized up and I had to clear it before speaking, steering away from the uncomfortably emotional moment. Thankfully, Loki wandered off without as much as a word.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

& the promised aesthetic