#im getting burnt out at this job so fuckin fast

[anarchopuppy]

poverty venting

my laptop charger only works at v specific angles now and is getting more finicky by the day and ill probably be forced to replace it soon, and i have no doubt that its only failing so fast bc rather than the charger i ordered i was sent a different charger and an adapter, adding an extra point of failure for no reason

and its just a small thing but its another small thing right after i barely scraped together enough for that utility bill and today i had to turn down a trip to the store even tho im practically out of food bc i just dont have money rn. and im tired of having to beg all the time and not getting anything bc no one on here has any money either

and im tired of being stuck in the fuckin "cant get job w/o car, cant get car w/o job" dilemma ever since my vehicle got stolen last year. just passing the days too burnt out to properly face that, hoping that a miracle comes out of nowhere and im able to escape somehow. like what the fuck am i supposed to do

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Not Bad

Prompts: Hihi, i have a Merlin prompt if you're interested. Merlin thinks he's a bad person bec he was taught that magic is bad, but also Bec of all the stuff he did/does to keep Arthur safe and ig throw in some touch starved!Merlin too for fun. But the knights compliment/hug/etc all the time and Merlin just doesn't understand what he's supposed to do with this, so the solution is to breakdown crying and try to convince the knights he's the bad person he sees himself as and the knights are just like "but you're wrong and he's 25 reasons why you're wrong" Plz, thx, love your writing - anon

im a fuckin sucker for soft knights & arthur w merlin so, if ur still takings reqs, i would love to see when the knights realize merlin still views himself as a "monster" like is hinted in first ep (? i thinkk, im rusty on my merlin trivia)- is it a passing comment he makes and they realize all together? knight cuddle pile? just give the poor boy some love - anon

if you'd want to write it i'd love to see the collective moment that the knights realize that merlin is self-harming in some way (in my brain this is probably in like a denial-of-things type thing that he probably doesn't even see as self-harm bc he's an idiot, could even be something like healing everyone else w magic but refusing to heal himself... idk feel free to do whatever you see fit!). i can only imagine they'd be frustrated with him and themselves but theyre just loving large idiots (': - anon

ahh yes all the prompts

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: implied/referenced self-harm in the form of intentionally depriving oneself of physical contact because THAT COUNTS

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don't care

Word Count: 3462

Arthur is confused, very upset, and nothing is alright anymore, thank you very much.

Because you see, despite the image that he tries to present—emphasis on the word ‘try’, there, according to his knights—he does care an awful lot about his people, especially his one particular person that happens to be able to say an awful lot without saying anything.

Merlin. He’s talking about Merlin, in case you hadn’t noticed.

The problem is that for all the man can ramble on about seemingly anything, at any time, he’s remarkably good at saying absolutely nothing about himself. He claims he’s an open book, but he’s certainly in a language that Arthur doesn’t know how to read.

He does know how to read, just to clarify. That isn’t the issue here.

No, no, the issue is that after months, years, almost a decade of Merlin by his side, watching his back, taking care of him, he’s discovered that there’s a secret that Merlin’s keeping from him. One he never intended to tell Arthur.

And before you panic, no, he’s not talking about Merlin’s magic.

Come on, it’s not like it’s not obvious, the man isn’t exactly good at hiding it. Does he seriously believe Arthur can’t see the tree branches that miraculously pick themselves up and fly at the nearest bandit or the spears that fling themselves at the foe about to behind Gwaine? Or the chores that mysteriously get done too fast for Merlin and far too efficiently? Or the way certain magical ailments seem to vanish mysteriously along with his idiot of a servant only to be greeted with a soft shrug when he pokes?

Merlin’s eyes also turn gold, that’s pretty neat.

So Merlin has magic.

Yes, we know, we had a small tantrum over the fact that he told Lancelot first, but it’s fine. Quite frankly, a lot of things make more sense now.

Except for this. Not this.

Merlin is hiding the secret that he believes he’s a bad person.

Now, Arthur’s not sure if you’ve met Merlin, but the man isn’t exactly the image of the evildoer that springs to mind when someone says ‘bad person.’

The Witch Finder, now there’s a bad person. Storming into Camelot, preying on the fear of the people, bribing and threatening and drugging people, torturing them, and condemning them to death just for the sake of a few coins.

Merlin did storm into Camelot, that is true, but he decided to pick a fight with the crown prince and then save his life. He’s not here for coin—if he were, they wouldn’t have had that small, er, issue about the steward not paying him anything for his work for the past eight years, honestly—and he’s certainly not preying on anyone’s fears. Except perhaps Arthur’s fear of losing his dignity.

The look on his father’s face when Merlin dodged the pillow…

Speaking of his father…there’s another one.

His father did not prey as openly on the people’s fear—or as obviously as Aredian, but prey on them he did. He was a strong king, sometimes too strong. He was a blind king, saw the people as nothing more than subjects, not the living breathing humans they are. He remembers Morgana’s voice, saying that authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of force.

He always wanted to see Uther’s face when his ward—when his daughter said that to him.

And what he’s done to Morgana…

Arthur grimaces and shakes his head. Perhaps the very truth that he resents the idea of thinking about what Uther did to Morgana, to him…perhaps that is enough.

Those are bad people. At least to Arthur.

Merlin, on the other hand…

Merlin came into Camelot, knowing that if it was discovered that he has magic, he would be burnt at the stake. He came, not with any aspirations of glory, simply because he trusted his mother when she told him to come to Gaius. He came and he was given a job he never asked for, one he had no idea how to do, and stayed.

Merlin learned. Slowly, perhaps, but he learned. Now he has enough knowledge on what a servant should do to break the rules in the most spectacular fashion. Arthur smiles, biting back the chuckle at seeing George dressed up like Merlin and acting perfectly proper and the urge Arthur had to throw him out of the room.

And that’s not even mentioning what he does when he’s not following Arthur around.

Merlin learned. Merlin stayed.

Not just for Gaius, but for Arthur.

Arthur leans onto his desk, staring out into the courtyard where Merlin is tending to the knights’ horses as they mount up for patrol. He watches Leon step a little closer, lowering his head to mutter something to him, watching Gwaine clap Merlin on the shoulder.

Watches Merlin flinch a little too hard.

Watches Leon’s brow furrow and Gwaine take a step back.

This. This is the problem.

Merlin believes he’s a bad person. Which is wrong, but for some reason, he does.

And because Merlin believes he’s a bad person, he believes that anytime one of the knights touches him—or anyone touches him—it will be to hurt him.

How did they come to this conclusion, you may ask?

Arthur bites back a snarl as he turns away from the window.

It had started with the complements.

Gwaine, to no one’s surprise, was quite fond of flirting with anyone and everyone that would let him, Merlin no exception. Talking about Merlin’s looks, his personality, his work ethic, anything, and everything. Merlin would flush, bright red, ears and all, mumbling to himself.

But then Percival had said something and Merlin pushed him away—well, prodded his arm, no one really moves Percival without Percival letting them—and shook his head. Percival had shrugged but the rest of them had noticed the tension in Merlin’s shoulders.

Then Elyan complemented Merlin’s tracking abilities and Merlin hadn’t even acknowledged it, instead insisting that they keep moving before it got too dark to see and they’d be forced to make camp in the woods. They’d agreed, pressing on, but noting the way that Merlin refused to say so much as thank you.

Leon’s perceptiveness should be considered magical. Seriously, Arthur’s not entirely convinced the man can’t see into people’s heads, what with the information he’s able to produce out of nothing more than the twitch of a finger or the slightest huff of breath. But he sees the way Merlin shies away from any display of affection, even as he gently repeats it, watching Merlin turn his back and get back to work.

Arthur never saw what happened with Lancelot. All he knows is that one night, out in the woods, the two of them had gone off to collect firewood and Merlin had been hiding red-rimmed eyes when he returned, a few paces ahead of Lancelot, not ten minutes later. Arthur had glared but the forlorn confusion on Lancelot’s face had given him pause.

Then it was the touching.

One would expect Merlin to be a quite tactile person, and he is. He’s all shoulder nudges and pokes and prods and gentle shoves to get people to move where he wants them to go. And it’s not like the man has much concept of personal space.

No, some of that is not Arthur’s fault, how dare you?

But when someone else tries it, Merlin tenses reflexively, already moving before their hands make contact. He gives everyone he can a wide berth, scuttling around the outside of rooms until one of them breaks and tells him to come here, Merlin, it’s alright, we won’t hurt you. His face never quite believes them.

The strangest thing is how much of it Merlin makes small adjustments for.

He always wears those god-awful tunics, that he won’t let Arthur replace with fabric that doesn’t feel like it’s a burlap sack, with the sleeves pulled all the way down and those kerchiefs tied around his neck. Arthur’s seen his sleeves rolled up before, but only when Merlin’s working and he hasn’t realized Arthur’s there yet. It’s not like Arthur doesn’t know Merlin has forearms, but Merlin will always jump and guiltily roll his sleeves down.

He doesn’t notice why until he accidentally brushes Merlin’s bare skin once and Merlin all but tears away like he’s been burned.

He doesn’t know why.

Merlin has a secret. The secret is that he believes he’s a bad person. That means he can’t accept compliments and he can’t let them touch him.

This is a problem, because Arthur would very much like for Merlin to believe that he isn’t a bad person.

This is also a problem because Arthur has no idea how to do that.

He looks up when there’s a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

“Sire?” Leon steps through. “May we come in?”

Arthur nods, his eyebrows raising as all of his knights spill into the room.

“Shall I assume you’re on the warpath again?”

“Nah,” Gwaine grumbles, throwing himself into a chair, “know this isn’t your fault.”

Leon shakes his head. “It’s Merlin, sire, we’re…concerned.”

Arthur just sighs and tells them what’s been buzzing around his head for the past…however long it’s been. The knights nod.

“He doesn’t like to be touched when he doesn’t expect it,” Lancelot offers, “but when I ask…he doesn’t seem to want to agree either.”

“But he does,” Gwaine argues, “you’ve seen the way he stares at us when we hug each other, he looks like a poor child that’s never had a hug in his life!”

“Which isn’t true.” Elyan folds his arms. “Gwen’s hugged him.”

“We’ve all hugged him.”

“But he still thinks we’re going to hurt him.”

“Well,” Arthur mutters, “we can’t exactly blame him for being paranoid, can we?”

“If you lot are going to talk about me behind my back like it’s a war council, then yeah, I reserve the right to be paranoid.”

“Merlin!”

“Thank god, where’ve you been?”

“I thought we were meeting by the stables.”

“Did you get hurt?”

Merlin raises his hands and takes a step back. “Whoa, can I get through the door first before the interrogation starts?”

“This isn’t an interrogation,” Arthur says, glaring at the knights, “we’re concerned.”

“Uh-huh,” Merlin mutters, weaving through them to the table so he can set down the thing hooked over his arm, “yes, I’m all too familiar with your concern.”

Arthur frowns. “What does that mean?”

Merlin waves a hand. “Oh, just that it’s a prelude to more chores and things to do.”

Is that…true?

“Yes.”

Did he say that out loud?

“Also yes.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Merlin, we’re not coming up with lists and lists for chores for you to do.”

“Really? With how many you all constantly give me, here I finally thought I’d cracked the code as to why.”

Leon steps forward. “We’re not coming up with things to give you, Merlin, nor are we intending to gossip behind your back.”

“So what are you doing?”

“We’re worried,” Lancelot repeats, “about you.”

“Well, I’m right as rain, no need to worry.”

“Lie.”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he stares at Leon. The knight smiles ruefully and takes another little step forward.

“Lie,” he repeats gently, “you don’t have to lie to us, Merlin.”

Merlin’s mouth thins. “Maybe I don’t want to tell you, then.”

“Why not—“

“No,” Arthur breaks in, causing Merlin to swing his head around again, “no, if Merlin doesn’t want to tell us he doesn’t have to.”

Gwaine looks on the verge of protest, but another look from Lancelot is enough to quell him. He sinks into the chair and tosses an apple to Merlin.

“At least eat something,” he says by way of explanation, “you’ve not eaten anything since lunch.”

Merlin looks very confused—good, now he’s just like the rest of them—but bites into the apple nonetheless. His gaze travels around the room before coming to rest on Leon.

“Why are you all concerned?”

“Because you won’t let us complement you, Merlin,” Leon says softly, “you believe that every time we touch you we intend to hurt you, and you believe that this is deserved because you are a bad person.”

The flabbergasted look on Merlin’s face is almost enough to make Arthur laugh. Almost.

“How…”

“We notice things, Merlin,” Leon says patiently, “we notice you.”

Lancelot snorts. “Good going, mate, you’ll freak him out.”

“Um—there’s nothing worth noticing about me—“

“Not we all know that’s not true,” Gwaine says, and if it had been any other time it would’ve sounded like the next pick-up line at the tavern, “you’re worth noticing, Merlin.”

Merlin’s gaze darts back and forth, finding no disagreement in any faces.

“What—what were you concerned about?”

“Aside from what we just told you?”

“But I don’t—why is that a problem?”

Arthur swallows a curse. “Are you asking why we’re upset that you believe you’re a bad person and you deserve to be treated badly?”

“…yes?”

“Because you’re not a bad person,” Elyan says, “and you don’t deserve to feel like everyone’s about to hurt you.”

Gods, the look of disbelief on Merlin’s face hurts.

“You don’t know that,” he says lowly, setting the apple down, “you don’t know that.”

“Sure we do.” Elyan uncrosses his arms. “We know you, Merlin.”

“I don’t think you do.”

A look passes around the group of knights. Elyan smiles.

“I know that Gwen came home and told me she’d made a friend the first week you arrived in Camelot. I know that you’ve reminded us what family means. I know that you care, Merlin, about your friends, because they’re important to you.”

Merlin blinks in confusion.

“I know you’re a strong man,” Percival says, “and not just because you can lift the packs for the horses without complaining. But you work hard, because you know you can, and so that people don’t have to. You provide what you can because you know what it’s like to have nothing.”

“I—I—“

“I know you’re brave,” Lancelot says softly, standing, “I know you feel the same fear that we all do and you stare it straight in the face.”

He pauses, takes one step closer.

“I know you don’t chase the glory of being brave, but the feeling of being brave and using it.”

“Guys, I—“

“I know what you’ve done.”

Merlin’s face goes pale at Leon’s words.

The knight tilts his head to the side and smiles.

“I’ve been around the longest,” he says in a near whisper, “and I have seen the changes from when you arrived in Camelot until now. I’ve seen the differences, not just in the other men in this room but in Camelot.”

He lays a hand on his chest.

“I know that you’ve made me prouder to serve this kingdom than many others that have tried.”

Poor Merlin is shaking right now, his fingers trembling on the edge of the table. He looks around in confusion, terribly frightened, sending more aches through Arthur’s chest.

“You wouldn’t say that—“ he gasps— “you wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

“That—that I—“ Merlin’s breaths start to ring in the chamber— “I—I—“

“That you have magic?”

Merlin’s head jerks around to stare at Arthur. Arthur raises his hands and takes a step closer. Merlin flinches.

“It’s alright, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “I’m not angry. I’m not going to hurt you. You have magic, though, right?”

“Yes—yes, I—but I’ve only ever used it for—for you Arthur, I—“

“Easy,” he soothes, fighting the urge to reach out and pull him close, “I know. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” Merlin all but whimpers, “it’s not okay, it’s bad, it’s bad and I’m bad, I’m bad—“

“You’re not.”

“I am!”

Merlin yanks his arms to his sides, curling them tightly around himself, much to the protest of the knights. His fingers whiten as he clutches the sides of his tunic.

“I’m bad, bad people get hurt, you don’t—you don’t touch bad people.”

“Merlin,” Arthur breaks in softly, “Merlin, sweetheart, I’m going to come over to you.”

He can hear the quickly stifled gasps and Gwaine’s ‘oh shit’ as he inches towards Merlin. The poor man doesn’t move, but the tremors get worse and worse the closer Arthur gets.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart, do you believe me? That I won’t hurt you?”

“I—I—“

“Because I won’t,” he promises, still fighting the urge to swoop the poor thing into a hug, “I’ll never hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not bad, Merlin, and you certainly don’t deserve to be hurt.”

“You don’t know that,” comes the strangled whisper, “you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“But I know you, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, “and that’s enough.”

He can’t stop the concerned noise at Merlin’s huff of disbelief.

“It’s enough, sweetheart, it’s—hey! Easy, easy,” he soothes as Merlin’s knees buckle and he catches him before he can hit the ground, “I’ve got you, shh, shh, you’re alright.”

“Oh,” Lancelot murmurs as Merlin starts to shiver terribly, “oh, Merlin, you’re touch starved.”

“Touch starved?”

“He’s not been touched for a very long time,” Lancelot murmurs, hustling to join them on the floor, scooping Merlin’s legs into his lap, “and so he’s not used to it, but he needs it.”

“We all need touch?”

“Yes, otherwise our bodies get…unhappy.” Lancelot shakes his head. “I’m sure Gaius could explain it more. The short version is humans aren’t built to hold each other at arm’s length.”

Arthur tightens his grip on the lapful of shaking Merlin he has. There’s a cold nose buried in the crook of his neck, arms looping awkwardly around his shoulders. Distantly, he hears the scufflings of the other knights as they move closer.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart,” he fins himself whispering, “we’ve got you, we won’t hurt you, you’re safe, you’re good, we have you, it’s alright, now…”

Poor Merlin is still shuddering terribly.

“Shh, shh, easy, just try and relax, we have you…”

Since when has Merlin been this cold?

“Oh, I’m definitely hugging you every day,” Gwaine mutters, helping to prop Merlin up away from the table.

“Why—“ Merlin swallows— “why are you all so warm?”

“You’re cold,” Arthur says, “we’re helping.”

“I’m—I’m—what is it? Touch—touch—“

“Touch starved,” Lancelot offers gently, “yes, Merlin.”

“You’re helping?”

Gwaine shifts behind him. “We’re helping.”

“You’re not…mad?”

“No, Merlin, we’re not mad.”

“I’m not bad?”

Arthur tightens his grip. “Never, Merlin.”

“You—I can—I can stay?”

“Yes, Merlin,” comes the chorus of knights, “for as long as you like.”

Arthur is still upset, very confused, and more than a little overprotective right now.

But so is Merlin.

And they’re…they’re starting to figure it out.

One thing’s for sure: Arthur’s definitely pulling Merlin into bed to cuddle with him instead of getting up in the morning.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [bonus]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–nudity boobies! w.c; 2.2k a/n; why did a week go by so stinkin’ fast? i’m not ready to let go of this couple! that being said, i wouldnt mind posting some drabble babbles about these two or four. im utterly thankful for the love and passion my readers had for this, i had so many kind readers that kept me afloat through all of. i can’t wait to see you in the next one, and i hope you enjoy this little glimpse💕

[final] [bonus] -> masterpost

“You’re not Jimin.” 

Jungkook’s eyes snap open, and he takes note of the change in air. Chalk it up to the open window or the fact that the rain’s evaporated, but he can’t help the pinch of pain in his heart as he realizes that you’re far, far gone from this world. 

And in your place, is you. Not quite you, but it’s almost scary how easy it is to regard your visage and simple conversation. 

“Jimin,” he repeats, as if he heard you wrong. “As in, Park Jimin? Tiny guy with a big ego?” 

“Yes,” you reply blandly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes are sparkless, flickering between your state of nakedness and his state of nakedness. “I know I wasn’t exactly sober last night, but I distinctly remember telling him he’d be in my bed tonight,” and you regard Jungkook with a sort of pointed look, unable to decipher your situation, “but here you are. Still cupping by boob.” 

Out of reflex, he squeezes his palm. Yep, that’s yours. 

A little part of him also wants to yell to the heavens because you failed to tell him you were hooking up with Park Jimin before all of this. 

Okay technically you didn’t, but the person in front of him did. 

His heart is fresh and stinging like a hot cut on the asphalt. He watches you take in your surroundings, humming when you notice the new clothes on the rack and the way your desk has been rearranged. Jungkook is trying very hard to be patient, after all you’re a stranger and suddenly he feels like he’s the one that’s known you all his life. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

You stretch, testing out your limbs as they pop and crackle at your command. You run a hand through your strawberry-smelling hair, and Jungkook has to grip the sheets to not go by instinct and take you right then and there on this mattress. With a shameless groan of satisfaction, you flop against your bed. Jungkook tries, emphasis on try, to not watch as your breasts bounce and the way your hair flows around your pillow like the angel you are, but he’s rendered smitten. 

“Uh,” boobies boobies boobies. 

You pointedly ignore his piss-poor attempt at coherent conversation, staring up at the ceiling.  “Ho—ly shit,” you curse freely, heaving an exhausted sigh, “I feel so sore.” 

“S-sore?” Great, he found his voice. 

“Yeah, like I’ve been in a coma or something,” but you think nothing of it, summing it up as a crazy dream from alcohol poisoning. You sit up straight, reaching for your phone. It’s not on your desk, but instead you find something far more interesting. 

You reach for your Midnight Blue Citrus candle, frowning at the contents. The wax is nearly burnt to the end, the tips of the wicks charcoal black and frayed. Waving your used candle in Jungkook’s face you blame, “What the fuck, did you use all of this last night? I just bought this like, literally yesterday!” 

His face falls, “What? You’ve had that candle for forever—”

“And why the heck it is so hot in the middle of February?” 

Oh. 

Something dark and sad creeps up Jungkook’s stomach, and he hates to be the one to tell you. February was when it all started, and his life changed with the presence of you. Jungkook tells himself repeatedly that the woman in this room is simultaneously the person he’s loved since winter and the stranger he feels that he’s meant to love with time. Considering everything’s happening all at once understanding it is still hard, but he’ll try for you. 

It breaks his heart to see how you look lost and confused, like a child woken up from a debilitating nightmare. Your lips are bitten red and purple, trying your hardest not to show fear in front of him, a stranger. You’re frustrated as you try your hardest to shut the windows to block the incoming humidity from last night’s rain. 

He says your name, sweet and soft. “It’s almost summer,” he says, his voice calm and collected. 

“So are you telling me, that wasn’t a dream?” 

The two of you stare at each other, unmoving. He tries not to squirm under your gaze, you watch him intently, scraping at the edge of your brain for any ideas. You’re hugging yourself, arms wrapping against your breasts as if you’re trying to hold your body together in a way that alludes to any brokenness you felt over these past two months. 

Neither of you break the silence, and there’s a bang and a crash. Jungkook flinches at the tell-tale signs of the unwanted intruder, the fling of keys across your wooden table and a shrill call of your name. 

“Who’s that?” 

“Probably Hoseok,” Jungkook answers reluctantly, his thumb rubbing between his brows. 

He ignores the extra cool air against his naked bits when he throws the blankets off his lap. Ignores the way you pointedly, shamelessly check him out as he throws on his sweats and a t-shirt. To his dismay he can’t ignore the burn in his cheeks when he knows how you’re scrutinizing him like a one-night stand, trying to recollect any type of concrete thought that would seem plausible enough to explain why you woke up in bed with him. 

Throwing open your bedroom door and leaving you there, he cards a hand through his rogue bedhead to face a frantic Hoseok. 

“It’s so early,” Hoseok warbles to himself, impressed that he’s managed to cop fresh donuts and coffee at nearly 7AM. 

Jungkook sees nothing but an orange blob and Hoseok’s head, bleary and vibrating. Rubbing his eyes he says, “You just realized how early it is? Couldn’t you have stopped by a little later?” 

“No, I couldn’t!” Hoseok’s now invading Jungkook’s personal space, as if you weren’t the bridge between their threads of a relationship, as if he and Hoseok could be friends. “I woke up a few hours ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I felt it, Jungkook. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. The air shifted and I felt like I was between two parallel universes—I swear on my bad knee that I’m not going through a drug trip—and I felt the world turning and changing and it was so fuckin’ weird I had to come here as soon as Dunkin’ opened. Didn’t you feel it too?” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook exhales, not bothering to hide the disappointment. He smiles sadly, “it’s definitely not her.” 

Hoseok’s expression and excitement over the world’s converging falters, and he pulls Jungkook into a hug. They’re not particularly close and Hoseok’s smaller in size compared to Jungkook, but for those five seconds he feels comforted as he hugs him back. 

“Why don’t you go home and chill out, I don’t mind explaining things to her,” Hoseok offers, “and I’ll call you later and let you know how it went.” 

“Okay,” Jungkook replies, voice slow, “that sounds like a good idea, actually.” 

The situation is royally messed up, and he hates that he can’t blame it on anyone. Jungkook is a practical man, and he knows that he has no use when Hoseok is here with donuts and coffee. More importantly, there is no use torturing himself by letting his heart break in the presence of  you. 

“What is this, a party?” Taehyung’s bare feet smack against the hardwood, and he plops himself in the chair next to Hoseok, “did you get me coffee this time?” 

The two of them bicker good-naturedly, with Hoseok explaining a little kindness goes a long way and Taehyung muttering that kindness doesn’t happen without caffeine. Jungkook excuses himself, feeling very much out of place as he moves to your bedroom to pack his things. 

“You’re leaving?” you’re standing in the middle of your bedroom, now dressed in a long t-shirt and your hair tied clean and away from your face. You look pretty. 

“Yeah,” he says shortly, stuffing his jeans in his bag and making sure all traces of him are gone from your bedroom. “Need to sort things out,” he excuses, and while you may not buy it, he really does. He feels heartbroken, angry at the world. Maybe he could visit Yoongi today and get a demo in, put all this pent-up emotion to good use. “But Hoseok brought you breakfast, he’s a good friend, he’ll explain everything.” 

“But I don’t know Hoseok,” you mumble, picking at the hem of your band shirt. You’re pouting, stubborn. 

“But you don’t know me either,” Jungkook retorts, not unkindly, but not exactly gentle. “I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.” 

There’s a hard rip at his zipper, putting in a little too much force as he seals away all his things into a compact backpack. Heck, he even went as far as to take back the hoodie he lent you last month, making sure the fabric is crisp and folded so he can stow it away from your curious eyes. He shoves on his denim jacket from last night, still lingering with the scents of sand and saltwater. It makes him sombre, and the selfish part of him wishes to bottle up that scent and tuck it away forever. 

“You’re wrong,” you blurt when he moves toward the door. His hand lingers over the knob, “I do know you.” 

He narrows his dark eyes, taking in your honest expression, “At Jimin’s job, maybe? I did a couple interviews in the beginning of February. Maybe we passed each other while you had lunch with him.” 

“No. You sang to me, talked to me, as much as you could up until this moment.” 

He remembers the stories you fed to him last night under the stars, shameless and full of love as you explained to him of his other self. The life where he’s a renowned singer, a Golden Boy, one of the most revered in his industry. A life he could only dream of, yet somewhere out there he’s living it in another body making that dream come true. 

Thoughts are running through his head, memories that aren’t his own. He could only imagine what you must’ve gone through, recovering in a hospital bed for two months, unable to move but actively aware of the pain and anguish. How confused you must’ve been, aching to figure out what the hell is going on, acutely aware of the voices constantly chattering about your well-being. 

One of those voices being Jeon Jungkook, who was probably taking care of you night and day. 

His head is starting to throb, and he feels like he’s five seconds away from spiraling. 

“I’d… I’d feel more comfortable around you, Jungkook,” you confess, reaching for his hand, “but if you need to, you can go,” you bite your lip, folding in on yourself once more, “if it hurts too much to be around me right now.” 

He gladly takes your hand, rubbing his thumb between your palm. The familiar sparks he feels when he holds it return, but tamps it down for the sake of your vulnerability. It’s not your fault you’re in this situation. “No… I’m just gonna go home for a bit, clear my schedule,” he gives you a little smile, and he inflates a bit when you give him one of your own. “I’ll come back for you after breakfast.”

“You promise?” 

“Promise.” 

You pull him into an unexpected hug, suddenly fearing he may never come back. 

“I always wondered what the man looked like behind the voice,” and you’re suddenly melting, feeling a sense of familiarity as you let your heart run faster than your brain when you let him hold you in his arms. He smells just like him, too. 

His embrace is tight, and his arms fit in all the little curves and spots that make you feel warm and safe. “And am I living up to your expectations?” it’s a half-joke, after all the both of you are  going simply by feeling and there’s no way in hell would he even attempt to compare himself to well, himself. 

You pull away to look at him, really look at him. Honest, clear eyes. Jungkook thinks he sees the world in your gaze. “Only if you eat a donut before you go,” you reply with a shy smile. 

At your defiant mention of food he can’t help but grin like a maniac, letting you tug him back out to sit at the counter with him and have breakfast. Like he said before, he can’t wait to fall in love all over again. 

[handsoffmyfriends]

Breaking Expectations and Expect the Unexpected were so goood, aaaa I'm so glad I found your blog! You wrote Bakugou so well and I just uwu everytime him and reader interacts asdfhhjkl. I'd like to req a Bakugou x reader wherein reader is quirkless but is a doctor and she patches up Bakugou after a gruesome fight, and while doing so, she cries or smth; Bakugou comforts her. I'm sorry if this is too detailed. She/her for pronouns. Tysm! 💕✨

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN

— you were born quirkless, but that didn’t stop you from achieving your dream to save people. as a doctor, you’re used to seeing and treating pro heroes more often than civilians, though there’s one pro hero who’s never needed treatment until today.

PAIRING: pro hero bakugou katsuki x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,158

WARNINGS: blood, bakugou swearing

A/N: AAAAAAAA IM SO VERY HAPPY YOU ENJOYED THEM !! turn your location on so i can love you anon !! please never apologise for details, i love them and i hope i got this right for you ! it was an interesting prompt and perfect for me to pull more soft bakugou hours so thank you very much for the ask !

From before you could remember, you’d always wanted to help people. You remember eagerly awaiting for your quirk to manifest, hoping it would be just as cool and flashy as your classmates. When you failed to show any signs, when the kind lady doctor told you that you wouldn’t be developing a quirk, your world began to turn upside down. You’d been so upset, since without a quirk, you wouldn’t be able to help people.

Except, the kind lady doctor shared a secret with you: she was also quirkless but it didn’t stop her from helping people. It had changed everything and nothing at all. You could still hold onto your dream to help people, it would just be a little different to what your tiny kid brain had imagined. 

Fast forward twenty years, and you were achieving just that. You didn’t think of yourself as an especially successful doctor, or a doctor that would change the world, but you did think of yourself as a hero in your own right. You helped patch up the pro heroes that were injured on the job. It was thanks to those pro heroes and their selfless actions that you actually rarely saw civilians. 

You had even befriended some of your more frequent patients. Deku was bound to grace your hospital at least once a week, almost always from injuries that could have been avoided if he just stopped over exerting himself. 

There were some pro heroes that you never saw, usually because they rarely saw any dangerous action. Ground Zero was constantly involved in dangerous battles, though he never needed medical assistance. During all your time as a doctor, you’d never not known a hero to need some kind of patching up, but Ground Zero was something else. The villains could never touch him, no matter how impossible the odds looked. He quickly became your favourite hero and inspired you to keep doing your best.

You didn’t know what to think when Ground Zero ended up being your newest patient. He looked absolutely terrible, nothing like the picture of heroism that you were used to seeing. His hero costume was covered in dust, dirt and blood, parts of it charred from his quirk. It filled the room with the strong scent of smoke and burnt sugar. His arms were covered in minor cuts and abrasions, though his head was smeared in fresh blood. You remind yourself that head injuries always look worse than they actually were, but it didn’t help to ease your slowly growing panic. At least he seemed to be walking okay.

“Look, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this,” he growled out, crossing his arms in his seat. “I’m fucking fine, but shitty Deku wouldn’t shut the fuck up unless I saw you.” 

You gaped at him like an idiot. “Me?” 

“Yeah, so can we just get this over with? Do your doctor shit and give me the all clear so I can shove it in shitty Deku’s face.” 

You knew of Ground Zero’s famously colourful language and very blunt approach to everything, but it still shocked you at just how casual he was about it. Recovering from the mental shock, you did as you were told. You went about assessing his injuries, deciding that the most pressing one was the head injury. Everything else seemed to be fine, nothing a little bit of antiseptic wouldn’t fix. 

You cleaned the blood from his face and determined the injury to be minor. It had already begun to heal, the blood no longer running freely. You cleaned it up regardless, ensuring that the site was sterilised before bandaging it up. You asked him a series of questions regarding his pain and overall physical state as you shined a light into his eyes, eventually ruling out the possibility of a concussion. All in all, he looked a whole lot worse than he actually was, which was a massive relief. 

You hadn’t realised you’d started to cry during the examination until he called you out on it. He frowned at you, his face strangely soft as he asked, in a voice that was so unlike his usual angry tone, “hey, what’s wrong?” 

You shook your head, wiping at your face. “It’s nothing.” You tried to change the topic, to go back to giving him his okay to leave, but he just gave you an expression that said he wasn’t going to drop it. You took a shuddering sigh, running your hands through your hair to calm yourself. “It’s just... okay, I’m used to seeing pro heroes come through here, but... you, you’re untouchable. You’re...” you swallowed thickly, looking away from him. “Look, it’s stupid. But, you’re my favourite hero, okay? It’s just... it’s a little shocking to be treating you.” You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the heavy air with a humourless chuckle. “Sorry, this is really not professional of me.”

“Geez, no wonder shitty Deku likes you so much. You’re both fuckin’ crybabies,” he scoffed, leaning back in his seat. The words were harsh, but the tone was almost fond. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?” he added, cocking his head to the side.

You sputtered, completely caught off guard. “Well, yeah, but—”

“Then, that’s all that matters, right? It’s all part of the job, sometimes shit happens. No need to be all sad about it.” As he spoke, an embarrassed blush coloured his cheeks, though he maintained eye contact with you the whole time. You felt yourself blushing under the unwavering attention. He flushed deeper at that, jerking his gaze away to glare out the window. “Do I have the all clear or what?” His rough voice was back, though you could have sworn it trembled slightly in embarrassment. 

You cleared your throat, patting your face with a tissue. “Uh, yes. You’ll probably develop some bruising in the coming days and if you start to feel nauseous or a headache develops, you should come back right away.”

He scoffed at that, as if to say he wouldn’t come back even if he developed those symptoms. As he went to leave the room, he hesitated at the door for a moment, casting you another one of those strange expressions. 

You smiled back at him. “I don’t want to see you again, so stay safe out there, Ground Zero.” 

His eyebrow twitched in irritation. “No, that’s no good,” he muttered. “When do you finish?” 

Your mouth dropped open in shock. You think it would have gone all the way to the floor if you hadn’t caught yourself quick enough. “I, um— midnight.” You aren’t entirely sure why you even answered that, the shock of such a personal question catching you off guard. Why would Ground Zero want to know when you finished? 

He nodded, a confident grin gracing his features. “I’ll see you then, Y/N. And don’t even think of calling me Ground Zero again.”

[fuckingthefictional]

Secret Shelby.

Finn Shelby x Reader

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Holidays or happy-whatever-you-may-celebrate.

Here’s a crap fic that’s way too long, and half of it is probably gibberish- but hey enjoy!

“Where the fuck is Finn?”

The clock ticked teasingly- it made Arthur more annoyed. By waiting around they were losing time that could be spent working. Or more importantly, getting drunk.

The air was thick with tension. And all of the Shelby’s and the rest of the Blinders were growing increasingly impatient with the youngest brother. He had yet to make an appearance and it frustrated the eldest Shelby to no end.

If there was one thing that the Shelby family expected with the business they owned, it was to be on time- everyone knew that the Shelby’s hated tardiness and the fact that Finn hadn’t shown up was pushing them all into a state of annoyance.

“I said where the fuck is Finn?” Arthur asked again, not particularly asking anyone directly.

“I’ve not seen ‘im.” Isaiah replied from the column he was leant on.

Tommy took an inhale of his cigarette and swilled the whiskey around the glass it was contained in.

“If Isaiah doesn’t know Arthur, then I have no fuckin’ clue. If you’re that bothered about the lad then go and find him.” Smoke blew from his mouth, “Until then, we’re going to talk business like real businessmen.”

—

That same morning on the other side of Small Heath, Finn Shelby was tucked up in bed. His arms wrapped around his loves small frame.

You were still fast asleep-you were tired what from being up most of the night in discomfort.

Finn, however, found himself marveling at his girl’s belly, the skin was stretched taut over the swollen bump. It cradled the baby that had yet to be born.

The young Shelby rubbed a circle into the skin with a rough hand across the top of the bump. The movement obviously had caught the attention of his unborn child because soon after he could feel the small jolts and jabs against his palm.

The action brought a smile to his face but subsequently caused you to groan and hiss in pain.

He’d forgotten how sensitive your belly had become in the weeks leading up to delivery. The doctors had said, that because of your small, adolescent frame- it gave the baby less room to move around comfortably.

Finn knew you’d do anything for your baby to be comfy and safe within your body though, so you had proclaimed that if it meant a few days of discomfort and pain then so be it.

“You okay?” Finn mumbled into your messy hair, “do you need anything love?”

You had to smile at his offer. Ever since you’d become pregnant, Finn had been home a lot more. You hadn’t expected it (not that you weren’t thankful and grateful for it), you knew how much family meant to him- how much the business meant to him. How much proving himself to his brothers meant to him.

When you brought it up with him though, he just claimed that “You’re my family now. You and our little bean.”

“Love?”

You were brought out of your thoughts to see Finn looking worried.

You caressed his cheek, “just hold us.”

He slowly pressed a long kiss to your hairline and then proceeded to wrap his arms around as much of your waist as he could reach.

“What do you think they’ll look like?”

The thought caused you to smile softly, “I hope he looks just like you. With your curly red hair and freckles.”

Finn chuckled into the crook between your shoulder and neck, “so it’s a he huh?” I stroked the bump lovingly, “I think it’s going to be a little girl- a spitting image of her mother.”

The idea of the baby being here made you both sick with nerves but also full of joy and excitement.

Pregnancy was a new concept for both of you, especially considering you were both only 17.

But you were so glad that Finn had stuck with you for the duration of your pregnancy.

He never missed an appointment and constantly talked to the small baby that grew inside of you. He’d even tried to take up knitting, Finn had managed to make a scruffy looking bobble hat for when the baby arrived. It looked crap- but you appreciated it all the same.

Children, however, were a different story. Finn had obviously been in charge of looking after his nieces and nephews in the time when his brothers were abroad fighting.

And he still occasionally did it whenever Esme or John needed a spare hand.

And you were known to babysit and tutor children around Small Heath. You were one of the few genuinely liked people in town.

You weren’t judgemental and were willing to help others- and as much as the Small Heath inhabitants didn’t want to admit they were thankful.

The idea of your own bundle of joy was different. You’d both held and cared for babies that belonged to someone else- and the idea that this child growing inside of you was your responsibility made you anxious.

But you and Finn and soon the baby had each other and that was all that mattered.

//

“Mum?” The soft knock from the entryway of the office caused Polly to look up from the books she had been poured over minutes previously.

Micheal walked in and took a seat in front of his mother.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Micheal frowned slightly, he didn’t know whether he was reading too much into this.

“I’m worried about Finn.” His face conveyed serious stature though as his mother looked up at him from behind thick lashes.

“And why is that?”

“Because I haven’t seen him in days.” He licked his lips, “He hasn’t been at the betting den, or the garrison, his apartment is empty every time I check. For fuck's sake he hasn’t even shown his face at the family meetings.”

Micheal shifted in his seat, “Him not showing up to family meetings is not normal. When has Finn ever missed out on a chance to prove himself?”

Polly stubbed out her cigarette into the ashtray, she looked as if she were thinking hard for a solution.

“I’ll bring it up with Tommy, truth be told I’m worried too. Finn has never been gone this long without calling, writing or even just visiting.” Her hand brushed some stray hairs out of her face, “I agree, it’s not like him.”

//

You didn’t understand how you had grown so big in the last week. You knew you were entering your 38th week and that you were coming into the area of potential delivery dates.

Finn had put you in bed rest and was adamant that it would stay that way until the baby arrived.

Some of the ladies from around town had been keeping you company, their children presenting you with hand-me-downs from when they themselves had been babes.

Staying in bed was nice for the first day or so- but then your pregnancy hormones kicked in and you couldn’t help but feel smothered and miss the absence of using your muscles.

You hated bed rest- but you knew it soothed Finn knowing that his two loves were tucked up and safe in bed.

You knew Finn had been avoiding his family like the plague, he still did jobs that paid the bills and kept money coming in. But whenever he saw his brothers- he’d only speak a few sentences around them.

He’d gotten a right bollocking from Tommy, saying that he needed to prioritize his family over whatever he had been so occupied with.

So that’s what he did, he focused on his new family. He still spoke to his Aunt Poll and occasionally Micheal and Isaiah.

But you were beginning to get frustrated with your boyfriend. You knew that his absence in the Shelby family was hurting them, and doing more harm than good.

It hurt Finn as well as much as he didn’t want to admit. These were the brothers that practically raised him. The boys that taught him everything he knew. The boys that shaped him into the person he was now.

And that had been why you’d persuaded him to go out to the Garrison for the evening- just him and his family (plus Isaiah).

At the time you’d thought it was a great idea, you just forgot one detail. You were heavily pregnant and due anytime soon.

And of course, the baby chose the only time that their father was out to try and make an appearance.

—

Finn walked into the pub, the smoky air and rowdiness of the patrons made Finn feel at home.

Considering he had been coming to the Garrison since he was a young lad, he had become used to the behaviour from the drinkers that spent their time in the pub.

He shouldered the door to the private room, and there sat his brothers, cousin, and Isaiah.

“Oi, Oi who’s this?” John’s cocky voice chirped from the corner of the booth.

“I don’t know mate,” Arthur shot back, “looks like a stranger to me.”

“Shut up.” Finn grumbled back, rolling his eyes.

Finn sat down next to Isaiah, who in turn passed over a cigarette.

The next hour was spent playing cards, they were all completely aware of how uncomfortable the youngest Shelby was. Finn kept looking towards the door, tapping his foot anxiously.

Tommy finally spoke up, “Where’ve you been then, aye Finn?”

“Y’know out and about.”

Tommy and Arthur shared a look, “You know that’s not what I meant Finn.”

Finn was glaring at his older brothers now, he knew that they wouldn’t give up until they had every piece of information.

That was until Harry knocked on the hatch and claimed that there was a phone call for Finn

He abruptly rose from his seat and slammed the door upon exiting.

He picked up the receiver that the barman was holding for him.

“Hello?”

“Finn!”

“Y/N- what’s wrong?”

There was a pause and he could hear your harsh pants through the line.

“Y/N/N?”

“The baby-“ there was more wincing from your end, “The baby is coming.”

“Shit.”

“Just get fucking home now! For fuck sake.”

With a last few reassurances, he put the phone back onto the holder. Finn turned only to see a small crowd comprised of his older brothers.

Finn started to push past them but was stopped by hands on his shoulders.

“I need to go.”

“Not until you tell us where you’re going.”

He was starting to get angry, “For fuck's sake Tommy- let me go!” He broke free and started to break into a sprint.

His lungs were on fire and his legs burnt but Finn continued the pace all the way back to where his girl was waiting.

What he failed to notice was his brothers tailing him in the family car.

—

You were hunched over panting harshly, grasping onto the mattress with white knuckles.

You knew labour was bad- but you didn’t expect it to be this bad. The rippling pain was intense and you hadn’t expected the process to be this quick.

The ladies at the hospital had said that a first-time labour would be a slow process- evidently, that wasn’t the case.

“Come on baby, work with me- at least wait for yer father, yeah?” You mumbled to the empty room.

Another contraction struck your body causing you to yell out in pain.

“Y/N/N?”

It was Finn.

“Bedroom!” Was the only reply you could muster.

A few seconds later your boyfriend rushed into the room, he immediately knelt down to your level and slowly kneaded the bottom of you back.

You let out a few more groans- your belly felt tight. It was almost as if the contractions were seizing your entire body and you could feel a harsh pressure urging you to push.

You found yourself grasping Finn’s shoulder, “I need you to check...I can feel something.”

Finn just gawked at you, speechless. However seeing you in pain, he did as he was told.

And low and behold there was what looked like the top of a head.

“Baby’s coming now, love.”

You grunted in response, as he helped you up onto the stripped mattress.

And then the door flew off of its hinges, and in strolled the Shelby brothers.

Finn seemed to be in as much shock as you were.

His shouts of anger rang out, as you groaned again and again.

At this point you were in a lot of pain and all you wanted was privacy and rest. And to have this fucking child out of your body.

“Did you invite the entirety of fucking Birmingham to witness this!” You screamed, hands finding their way to the metal bed frame which was situated behind you. The men just stared on- seemingly speechless.

“GET OUT!”

They scarpered from the room, saying something about “fetching Aunt Pol”

You didn’t care anymore, you’d given up trying to be rational and following the instructions that had been given at the hospital to you months prior.

If your body wanted to push, then you’d bloody well listen.

Finn had placed warm water, towels and a blanket on the bedside table. He then proceeded to climb behind you and press soft kisses to your sweaty brow.

“Finn I need to push.” You announced, “this baby isn’t waiting for anyone else.”

You could feel him nod behind you, “what can I do to help?”

The words would have been sweet if you weren’t too busy pushing a human out of you.

“Hold my knees back.”

He complied, and you felt your knees raise up to your chest.

And then- you began to push.

It felt like an eternity, but then you felt a release and heard it. You heard a high pitched scream, and a kick to your thighs.

The baby was here.

You looked up at Finn, who was teary-eyed and slowly reached down where your hands met the small body of your daughter.

By the time you sat back up with the baby cradled in your arms, Finn had a pair of scissors in his hand, he cut the cord and then began to clean the baby with the towel that was previously laid out.

You reached for the soft blanket that had belonged to Finn as a baby and wrapped the newborn up carefully.

“She’s perfect.”

You nodded in agreement, “she has your nose.” You smiled widely and stroked the small baby’s nose gently. The action caused the baby’s face to scrunch up- which in turn caused the young parents to laugh and smile in awe.

Finn softly kissed your temple and whispered sweet nothings to you, as you just leant back into his embrace.

The birth was finally catching up with you. You were so tired, and you soon felt yourself drift off into a deep slumber.

Finn took the baby into his arms and gently lifted her down into the bassinet, she mewled in protest to being put down.

The thought made him smile, the fact that his baby was already attached to his parents.

He proceeded to lift the sheets and blankets over your body, giving you warmth while you slept.

Finn then once again enveloped his baby girl into his arms, as he held her up against his chest.

He didn’t know he could be so capable of loving someone like this.

The quiet bliss was soon broken as Polly and Ada burst into the room each of their arms held bags.

“Aunt Pol?”

“What’s the bloody hell is going on?” Polly ranted on, “Your brothers said-“ The older woman stopped mid-sentence as the baby let out a little squeak. Almost as if she were announcing her presence.

“Aunt Pol, Ada- I’d like you to meet the newest member of the Shelby family. this is Theiadora Elizabeth Shelby. Theia for short.”

Polly looked close to tears and the younger of the two women gasped.

“You named ‘er after mum?”

Finn nodded in response.

“And this,” he motioned to your sleeping figure, “is my girl, Y/N.”

Finn just looked towards the two most important people in the world. He softly stroked his child’s face as he bent down to kiss her face.

“Welcome to the Shelby family, Theia.”

—

It was a few days later, both you and the baby were doing good. Finn barely put Theia down, it was evident that even at a few days old- she was a complete daddy’s girl.

Which you found completely unfair considering what your body had put up with for her to even be here.

But you soon got over the minor bitterness that you had felt ,when you woke up to the sight of your boyfriend cradling Theia’s small body and vowing to always protect her.

You’d gotten close to the Shelby ladies in the past few days too. Polly brought fresh food round every few mornings and usually stayed for a cup of tea if Finn was around.

And then there was the Shelby sister, though you had only known Ada for a few days, she’d become your biggest supports next to Finn.

She’d try and come over everyday, bringing her son, Karl with her.

You were thankful for her presence and she made you feel reassured, like you actually knew what you were doing.

Finn had told you that it was because Ada had been in the same boat as you, that she too had been a young mum.

But you knew it was only a matter of time until you were officially introduced to the Shelby family. So when Ada turned up to you and Finns home, you were understandably taken by surprise.

“Ada, is this really necessary?” You asked as you cradled the small baby in your arms. Theia was snoozing and even at a few days old she produced little snores like her father did.

Ada just continued to pin back your hair, “Yes, you have to meet my brothers. So does little Theia.” She paused, sensing your uneasiness, “It’ll go smoothly Y/N, Finn would never put you or Thee into harms way.”

Her words soothed your queries about this introduction. She was right. Finn had promised to protect you both from harm.

And you knew he wasn’t one to break a promise.

—

Finn had already gone to Polly’s house to help set up for dinner- as he knew that the others wouldn’t.

It also gave him time to explain to Polly about why he had kept his girls a secret (Which she had been quite furious about.)

“Why didn’t you tell me? This family does not keep secrets.”

Finn didn’t have an answer to that, he just shrugged.

“How long have you been together”

“Nearly two years.”

The questions kept coming

“Where did you meet?”

“She was tutoring Katie with Maths, I walked into the kitchen and found ‘em doin’ algebra.”

This went on for some time, until Polly finally asked.

“Do you love her?”

“More than anything.”

The sweet conversation was interrupted by the boisterous banter between his older brothers.

John grinned at him, seemingly proud that he finally knew the secret that his younger brother had been keeping to himself.

“How’s fatherhood treating you, Aye Finn?”

Polly smacked her nephew around the head, “Mother and baby are healthy- If you must know.”

“And what are their names?” Tommy’s cool, calculating voice queried from the stairwell.

“The-“

“Theia Elizabeth Shelby.” A female voice beat Finn to the answer. Looking up he saw you holding the baby in your arms, Ada and Karl next to you. “And I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

You walked over to where Finn was situated and he wrapped his arms around your middle. The tiny baby in your arms was snoozing, and like her father when asleep, had no intention of waking up for a while.

The other Shelby’s looked on as Finn doted on his girls, making sure that they had made the trip safely and asking about other minor details that Tommy, John and Arthur would never have thought to ask their ladies.

“You look familiar.”

You looked over to see who had spoken, John sat on one of the rickety kitchen chairs, starring inquisitively at you.

“Where’ve I seen you before?”

Ada smacked her brother across the back of his head, this caused a yelp to arise from the man.

“‘the fuck was that for?”

Ada just rolled her eyes, “She’s not from a whorehouse if that’s what you’re thinking John.”

The comment didn’t go unnoticed by Finn, who’s face had flushed in anger at the idea of John possibly trying to call the mother of his child a whore.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, “I used to tutor some of your children. Help ‘em with school work or any stuff they may have missed out on.”

Tommy spoke up from his spot in the kitchen, “so you’re a teacher, aye?”

You blinked, “No, I just tutor and occasionally look after children from around the area.”

“Is it good pay?”

You were once again taken aback, “Pardon?”

Tommy repeated himself, “I said is it good pay?”

You couldn’t quite see what the outcome of this conversation was, but you could see the cogs moving in his head.

You cleared your throat, “I don’t get paid Mr Shelby, I do it all voluntarily.” You stared at him blankly, “A lot of the families around Small Heath don’t have the money to pay me for what I do. Besides I’ve always said that support from others shouldn’t come at a price.”

Polly and Ada nodded approvingly, while Finn just looked at you with adoration.

“‘ow old are you then.” John popped up this time.

“I’m-“

“She’s 17, seven months younger than me.” Finn quipped, curling a few strands of your hair around his fingers.

“And how long ‘ave you been with our Finn?”

“Just over two years.” You answered the questions.

“Where’d you grow up, I don’t recall seeing you around Small Heath?”

“I-“

“Bloody Hell boys,” Ada huffed as she set Karl down on the small armchair in the corner of the room, “What is this? An interrogation?”

You shot Ada a thankful look, the questions were beginning to make you feel slightly overwhelmed and out of your depth.

The slumbering babe in your arms began to squirm around, as she started to awaken. Theia let out a small series of yawns, before her face scrunched up and her eyes slowly opened.

The whole room fell into a hushed silence as they watched in awe.

“She has your eyes Finn, lad.” Arthur spoke from his position by the mantle.

“Yeah, she’s pretty perfect.” He replied.

Tommy stepped forwards glass of gin in his grasp, “Aye well let’s say a toast to the newest Shelby!”

They all raised a glass and together chanted in tandem, “to the newest Shelby.”

You looked up to the Shelby you had fallen in love with all those years ago- he pressed a kiss to your lips.

Life felt good- life was good.

[hazbincalifornia]

Something Very Special

Chapter 4:  A few moments of reflection.

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Warnings: Mpreg

Ao3 link

Blitzo prodded at his stomach in front of the full-length mirror in his room while wearing only his pants. It was a bit more obvious without a shirt and coat on that there was a slight bump, especially considering his slender physique. It had been a few hours since the visit with Stolas, and he could still almost feel the owl-demon’s hand against him. 

Before leaving, Stolas had insisting on getting to feel his stomach again- it wasn’t sexual, as promised, but it made Blitzo shiver, the gentle way Stolas moved his fingertips over the skin and how he cooed with his eyes glowing brighter than usual.

“They’ll be perfect. I’m so glad you decided to keep them. This will all be worth it, Blitzy- you’re doing something very special.” 

He was almost a month through, and there hadn’t been any real side effects yet. None that he’d actively noticed, anyway- he’d been a bit queasy while drinking coffee a time or two and had puked in the bushes on the way home from the bar after work once, but that could have just been the cheap, shitty booze and the fact that he’d been more ‘spinning’ than ‘dancing’ by the end of the night. Loona had pretty much dragged him back to the apartment when he almost passed out anyway- not his fault that the snacks weren’t good enough to waste money on so he ended up drunk way too fast. Ugh, he'd probably have to drop drinking, wouldn't he? Greeeeeeat.

In the other room, Loona was listening to some punk band he couldn’t recognize. He liked the fast, loud sound it had to it though, all the lyrics fuzzed through the walls so it was just the beat. Blitzo drummed his fingers over the bump.

“You’d better not be any trouble, you hear me? The most I want to deal with is people calling me fat or some shit. Maybe I can get something tailored? Might have to ask Stolas about that. I’d hate to be just popping out of everything in my wardrobe, I’ve got too good of a sense of fashion for that and I can’t deny the world me at my best.” He’d need to make a list of things he wanted before but hadn’t been willing to push his luck with Stolas on.

Actually, now that he thought of it... he’d been kind of pushing his luck the last few days, hadn’t he? He’d even insulted Stolas to his face earlier, but the owl had barely even flinched, too swept up in the fact that Blitzo was agreeing to keep the baby. If it meant he could loosen his lips a little outside of the bedroom, Blitzo’d count this as a double success for a while. Maybe that was another side effect- hormones? The inhibitions to not tiptoe around the dude who knocked you up? The one who knocked you up being more lenient himself? Who fuckin’ knew! He’d never exactly asked Mom about what it was like having him and his sisters, he figured nobody who wasn’t about to have kids did shit like that who wasn’t a pervert.

Blitzo’d been playing ball with Stolas for... geez, at least six months at this point? He’d never written it down or anything. It always felt like pins and needles until he either said some dumbshit thing Stolas didn’t find funny that he had to fumble over a half-assed apology for, or Stolas just started getting raunchy right in the middle of the calls he insisted on at least twice a week. At least when the guy got started, most of the time he just burnt himself out with an occasional ‘mhm’ or ‘oh yeah’ from Blitzo, who was getting pretty good at tuning it out. Horny bastard was probably jacking off during half of them too, from the squelches and moaning noises. Weirdo. It was like he didn’t know about porn or something.

But! But, he’d offered to leave actual sex off the table for five full months with the baby thing. It really said how much he wanted this, and it also said that Blitzo was probably going to be able to get away with a lot more than usual if Stolas was willing to forgo their ‘fornication’ (seriously, who used words like that, just say ‘fucking’ like a normal person) for the entire time. Maybe Blitzo could actually get lucky with someone else for once, if he wanted to.

“What do you think about all of this? I figure the weight will be worth not having to worry about him just scooping me up and running off during work hours. And that’s on top of actually having some real good stuff out of our little relationship besides him just not taking the book back.” He paused. “And the sex when we get around to it. That’s usually pretty good.” He turned to Spirit Jr, who was propped up on the bed. The stuffed horse just stared up at him, but he felt fairly sure that the emotion given off was approval. “Very helpful. Thank you.”

“Yo, Blitzo.” Loona rapped her knuckles on the doorframe before pushing the door open, and grimaced before slamming it shut again. “Geez, get dressed first!”

“I’m in my room, just ask first!” He tugged a hoodie on, the oversized fabric completely smothering his frame when he looked down before opening the door again, meeting her eyes. “What is it, honey?”

“Just making sure you were still keeping it.” She held up her phone. “Millie asked and the notifications are getting annoying.”

Blitzo squinted at the screen, and could see that Millie had sent a picture of Moxxie pacing with his fingers laced behind his back.

“Geez, he’s acting like it’s his baby or something. Priss. Yeah, I’m keeping it.” He rubbed an idle circle over the pocket of the hoodie, fingers criss-crossing a star on the inside of it. Of course, it didn’t have much power without the book in the other room.

“I know, just making sure you weren’t changing your mind and trying to cut it out in there.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m only asking because this was the fourth text and she was worried you’d done something stupid. Did you check your phone?”

“Yeah, of course!” He blinked before heading back to where he’d hung up his coat, digging into the pocket before pulling out his phone that was currently flashing with several missed texts. Four long rambling ones from Moxxie, three slightly shorter ones from Millie, and then one each from Loona and Stolas. (Stolas’s was just a series of emojis that Blitzo didn’t really feel up to interpreting, including for some reason several leaves.)

He shot back a text to the IMP groupchat.

Im fine u gyus, dont worry aboutme. Its all good nd im keepingit.

He flopped down on the bed to start scrolling through Voxtagram, and Loona firmly snapped the door shut at the same moment the bed creaked from his weight. 

“G’night, Blitzo.”

“G’night, Loonie! See you tomorrow bright and early!” he called back at the sound of her plodding down the hall. “We’ve got another job lined up!”

If he was lucky, maybe nothing else would even have to change.

[littlehungrywarrior]

there’s a lot of things about me that are fucking absurd and really cool, so when ppl ask me to tell them about myself, i break em out immediately (”my family heirloom is a severed head named oswald,” “I can see disney studios from my house,” etc) 

but just bc im bored and I feel like it, here’s some stuff about me that I dont think I’ve ever really talked about? not secrets, but just...mundane things that I don’t really ever say in favor of Ice Breaker™-type things 

I have a profound respect for mail services. When I was 7-8 years old, we watched a documentary in class about how the postal system works, its history, and about the various jobs involved. It was an extremely formative experience for me. I don’t send a lot of things over snailmail and so I’m not really sure how to express my respect and support but it’s definitely there. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to play the FallOut game where you’re a mail carrier, but I wanna... I wanna. 

Though I’ll claim to the ends of the earth that sports confuse me, I am a huge speed-running enthusiast. One hobby/interest/self-esteem exercise I have is that I really like to learn jargon/lingo involved with...anything, really. So I started watching speedruns to pick up the lingo and I just...became infatuated. I’m no expert but I’m %100 into it for more than the lingo at this point; I’ve long since got that covered. One of my favorite parts is golf-clapping along with other fans when something cool/impressive happens. 

I can’t sleep without a hat on. A beanie, specifically. When I was, like...5 or something, I was terrified of vampires, and for some reason I thought vampires bit the skull and not the neck. So I pulled my blankets up over my head at night. My parents thought this was dangerous (I might suffocate) so they gave me a hat to protect myself with. I’ve long since outgrown my fear of vampires (and learnt that they don’t typically bite skulls) but I’ve associated hats with nighttime safety for so long that I can’t fall asleep without one. In the event that I don’t have one, I can wear underwear on my head to suffice...and I think I wore a stuffed animal once somehow but idk. 

I’ve had my SPiN in genetics for so long that 5-year-old me used to infodump strangers at the grocery store. When I asked where babies come from, my dad got me a picture book written for kids specifically to answer that question. We still have it; my brothers used it, too. It starts by explaining pollination and then extends the same concepts to dogs and then humans. Most of the information is on pregnancy and fetuses rather than sex, and cell development immediately caught my fascination. I asked my parents for more information about this and they gave me some more microbiology stuff. Combine that with my animal obsession + budding interest in heredity and you’ve got a tiny obnoxious geneticist who wouldn’t stop telling random people in line at the grocery store about how chromosomes are passed on through haploid cells. Dad got real smug about it, it was fantastic. 

On a similar note (and I have no memory of how this actually happened), I more or less learnt to read spontaneously? All at once? Again, I have no clear memory of this until the part where I can read... My parents read to me every night but I never was able to do it myself. I had a huge library built into the wall at perfect me-height for reading. One morning, the summer I turned 5, I (according to legend) walked up to my parents, got their attention, said “I’m going to read now,” and then (this part I do remember) sat down and read every single book in that library over the course of two or three days. Super rough estimate, but it was somewhere between 70-200 books, with a variety of target ages ranging from 3 to 10-11. No chapter books, all pictures, but the second I was finished I wanted more books. My mom took me to the store to buy more and insisted I get a chapter book since I’d burnt through the picture books so fast. And that’s where I got my first Warriors book. 

That was not the last time I read an entire library. In 7th grade, a friend of mine and I both had sex ed previously and so were allowed to skip that year’s sex ed on the condition that we spent that class in the school library. And together, we read the entire thing. Only what was on the shelves, though; nothing in the back. Actually, at one point on the last day, we’d already read every book in the place and we were bored, so we pulled some books out of the back to look at and none of them caught our interest. One of them was the first Hunger Games book WAY before it got popular. We’d never heard of it, both read the first 2 pages, didn’t like it at all, and put it back. You should’ve seen our faces when it suddenly blew up into a huge thing. The sad thing is, I remember a lot of books that I enjoyed but can’t find now because I can’t remember any specific titles or characters. We sped through everything to finish it all and didn’t really take a lot of time to absorb details so a lot of them are lost to the vague, hazy back of my memory. Still looking for that manga where the ninja kid...stops an evil scientist from...some kind of virtual world machine. There’s a piranha tank? And then the bad guy...gets sniped by a helicopter and falls off the roof, or something? Also there was a manga version of Maximum Ride, which I only remember by name because 2 chapters in it suddenly hit me that this was a comic version of a text-novel my mom was reading at the same time. I bought a handful of books from that library at the end of the year and still have them. 

I’ve only been in one play but something fucking sweet happened during production. I was Malvolio in Twelfth Night because, and I quote my drama teacher (who had known me for 8-ish years at that point and also who was smirking her ass off when she said this), “You’ll see why when you read the play.” She was not wrong and to this day that smug fuckin grin gives me life. Anyway, I was Malvolio, and you know that “Some have greatness thrust upon them” speech that everyone’s so inspired by? That speech is a fucking prank pulled on this asshole and it’s about bangin’. So the scene is that I dramatically read this “””love letter””” I’ve received and then run off to go embarrass myself. The speech is LONG and so I asked if I can just...actually have it written on the letter. And she said yes! So I wrote it down with intent of reading it off the letter. But opening night, the actress who was to place the letter grabbed the wrong paper and so I got just a blank sheet. Guess fucking what? We’d re-choreographed that scene so many times the night before that I slammed that shit anyway, word-for-fucking-word. And I was never mad at my friend for grabbing the wrong paper, so I say this in jest, but her punishment for grabbing the wrong paper is that the entire cast/production team did not hear the end of my pride for the entire week. For a timeframe reference, I was 12. 

When I was a kid I had a horse named Emmy. She was a rental horse. Actually, I think she was a pony? The way the rental worked was that she lived in a barn with a bunch of other horses. Her owners were a small business who gave riding lessons, but instead of just riding each session, one of the horses was “yours” (assigned by age, height, and temperament, not picked by the kid) to take care of while you were there and ride consistently every session. Essentially, she was only my pet when I was on the property. I can still ride but I’ve gotten rusty and I can’t do anything above a trot for more than a few seconds. Both times I’ve jumped have been accidents, once on Emmy and once on mom’s current horse, Meteor. I’ve fallen only once, and it was off Emmy. Mom’s going to be getting a gigantic thoroughbred soon and I’m both terrified and excited to ride this very large boy. 

I talk about this in person but not online because...why would it ever come up online?? I have worn the same style of red jacket every single time I leave the house since I was a pre-teen. It’s to the point where people will only recognize me if I’m wearing it. I had a friend in high school who was/is a really cool guy, we were seniors and we’d been close friends since freshman year. I had my jacket tied around my waist because of the heat. The school had two campuses a block apart and I was walking from one to the other to get something. Friend was walking from the other to the one, so we passed each other. Wordlessly. No wave, nothing. I was tired, it was hot, I didn’t really think anything of it. Then suddenly, a foot behind me, he freezes dead in his tracks and says my name with some kind of stricken shock. He had no idea it was me. At all. Keep in mind: my jacket? Tied around my waist. Not even off, just around my waist. Since then I’ve used this jacket thing to my advantage. Sparingly, I can take it off to sneak around. It’s like I’m invisible to people I know unless I say something and they hear my voice. It’s incredible. 

Going back to speed running, way before I knew that it was a thing at all, I taught myself to speedrun two games: The Lion King (PS2, not the impossibly hard one) and Putt Putt Saves The Zoo. As they were unofficial speedruns that I didn’t really call anything and just kinda did when I was bored, I never timed the latter, and I only timed the former once using my mom’s kitchen timer. It was a rough estimate since sometimes I paused and forgot to hit play for a few seconds, or I needed to pause but didn’t for a few seconds, and the timer only counted full minutes anyway, but I still remember the time: 35 minutes. I keep meaning to go back and re-teach myself to speedrun it, perhaps more professionally, and time it with more accuracy. I still remember all the strats but I can’t pull them off with as much fluidity as I could when I was still in practice. I also can, when watching both Lion King 1 and 2, still point out with frame-perfect accuracy exactly when a scene starts that was a cutscene in that game. 

wow writing this was fun and I kinda wanna do it again. ok 

[daughterofhel]

Just, void screaming. Ignore

Is this a pity party? Honestly. Maybe. Which I hate even further but fuck man, I’ve got no one to talk to but need to feel like I’m talking to SOMEONE. This is just bitching and ranting and woe is me bullshit. Sorry; just figured Tumblr was the spot to do it. Easy to be lost to the void while somehow feeling public enough that I can convince myself it matters.

Not that I expect anyone to still be reading, as this really is just a stranger here throwing a fit, but I’d like to say I already am going to therapy.

That out of the way..

Holy. FUCK.

I’m trying so god damned hard to work on myself. To get better. Get over shit and improve and grow as a person and shits always shoving me back. I still keepnfuckin going but man some days it’s just fucking overwhelming and you spiral down. I hate how often I’m spiraling back down.

I hate how alone I feel even with a wonderful wife. She and I talk. None of this convo is something we haven’t talked about but I also don’t want to just dump my constant woes on the woman I love. To the only person who loves me without any strings or conditions or whatever. I adore her. But god are we both lonely. I worry strongly it’s partly my fault. I think often; I can’t help it but I really am working on it. But god damn. My parents were kinda warped and conditional with their affections for me.

Only once I got a little older did my mother really bother, since I was no longer a burden but could be of use. Especially once she had her own kids. Now when I do get graced with any kind of greeting it’s for a mix of things. Typically I means she’s about to hit my father up for money; which means she’s gotta make sure she and I are cool so that cash still keeps coming. Other times it’s cuz she wants that mother daughter bond thing we absolutely do not have and wants to pretend it’s there. Nearly every call we speak her traumas of the past get brought up.

And fuck I feel really bad that happened to you mom, I see how it’s really wrecked your life up even now and I’ve offered the best advice I can, I’ve offered the kinda words, the supporting words, done what I can to my own best ability. Even if it’s always just letting you speak about the rapes of your past that I don’t want to hear about at all. I know that sounds selfish but I’ve heard it a lot and I know they still bother you so much and I know I am not the person whose gonna help you work through those. Im just.. not.

I hate when she cries about how her life was ruined from the few years she was together with my father; how his abuse and manipulations to this day affect all these things. How she reminds me and talks about them in detail nearly ever call as if this is news? Woman, I grew up ALONE with him. I’m fuckin aware what he’s like and how that fucks you up, thanks.

It’s some kind of fucked up bonding to her. Our last call, with my grandmother in the hospital and I having FaceTimed to get updates and say hi to my grandmother (I live in another country than them) she loudly detailed her miserable life with my father in front of the nurses as she reminded me how she’d have to hide us in closets in the dark to calm and feed me as he’d snap at any noise. How he’d hurt her. How she took us out of that home from him before she decided it was more important I had my father in my life since hers never really was. How she did what she could but there was no winning custody from my father when it came down to it.

I’m so use to hearing two different stories from both my parents as they paint the other as bad and I remember more than I want to. I silently listen and mumble the appropriate words. But I know my mother is either in denial or magically forgotten her own shit just like my father has his own shit.

While he slept around and wasn’t home for days and shit she would lock herself in her room. Or she’d go out dressed up to the bars and shit and leave me locked in that room. Sometimes for a couple DAYS. I KNOW this.

It was just worse when they were both home though. God. The screaming and breaking of shit. I still can remember trying to clean snotty tears and blood off my mothers face as I apologized for being bad and making dad mad after he had picked her up by the throat and threw her through our crappy american drywall walls.

I hate how this came up in convo. I hate how she mentioned how she wasn’t sure if my father ever touched me; sexually. Like hers did to her before he fucked off forever. I also hate how much she kept trying to bring up stuff and cases where she thinks it might’ve been possible, as if I needed that to be a thing on top of the other shit. She kept talking about it as if she WANTED it to be true. For us to have another fucking thing to relate to each other. Which. HOLY fuck woman. I called to say hi to my possibly dying grandmother and get info on THAT. Not for any of this.

Honestly. I don’t know. I don’t know if dad did that shit. If so, that’s a really sealed tight fucking memory. I’m currently focusing on the, what my therapist flat out calls torture, he put me through. My very own Mr Jeckel and Mr Hyde. Me Perfect Mr Nightmare. At the flip of a switch back and fucking forth. Spoiled and tortured.

I had my first breakdown that I can recall at age 5. I barely remember that trailer but fuck I remember enough. I remember a solid week of constantly getting the leather belt and screamed at by that marine. I didn’t immediately pick up my toys. I was struggling to tie my shoes. I didn’t answer right away. I made a mess with my food. I almost burnt our soup I was supposed to be managing on the stove: I had my own stool and all. I just felt.. overwhelmed. I told a childish lie, I don’t remember the lie but he utterly lost it. Lying remains the very worst possible offense to my father. What was an attempt to avoid more beating and screaming turned into a long nightmare.

I don’t remember those walls. But I remember his face. I remember being sat on the counter, as he demanded I look him in the eyes when I was talking to him or being screamed at. I remember him visibly shaking, him being so so red. The veins popping out of his forehead and neck. The muscles on his arms in the shirts he always had to cut just to fit those arms through. I could draw that glare as he always held it close to mine to make sure I couldn’t and didn’t focus elsewhere. His interrogating. I know I thought I had caught a break when that landline started ringing. I’ve no idea who it was who called.

My dads teeth were gritted as he responded curtly to the person on the phone who wasn’t getting the hint he didn’t want to talk. And I remember, sitting so high up on that counter, alone with this man, knowing he was about to hang up and no one was gonna stop him, that I was never gonna get this right, that I just. Felt some hopeless I started laughing. I saw the look he shot me and I swear the memory still makes my stomach sink every ducking time. And I was crying cuz I couldn’t stop laughing. He hung up quick and demanded to know what I thought was funny. That did I think lying was funny? Of course I didn’t and my ‘I don’t know’ responses never ever were received well. I just. I couldn’t stop laughing.

God I’m glad I don’t remember the rest but I do know he fixed that laughing problem pretty quick. I only remember how much I hurt.

I have so many things to say, so many years of even more shit; the things you just learn to survive. How you learn to not play strong with a man whose strong enough to make it hurt if he suspects it isn’t. You learn he wants to hear you scream and cry. But to a certain degree; when I got to that barely breathing ugly crying with pouring snot sniffling stage he got grossed out and threatened he’d give me a real reason to cry if I didn’t cut that shit out. Leaning over a surface so it doesn’t matter if your legs give out as your there’d bare assed to a folded braided leather belt being brought down amidst yelling was only part of that shit.

Once the beating was done I was orders where I was to stand or sit waiting for him to call me into his office. This could sometimes be a few hours. And god forbid I moved; he moves so silently, occasionally checking to make sure I was ‘reflecting on what I did wrong.’ Assuming I didn’t fuck that up it would be time for a new round of mixed levels of yelling. A foot or two from his face he’d want me to inform him what I did wrong, that I didn’t want to be miserable and anything like my mother, that it’s hard enough on him when I’m not doing my job and he’s doing his. (My job being the house and my grades). Then it was time for me to explain how I’d avoid doing what I did wrong again, and then I was to pick an appropriate punishment.

Takin away my time to tv, my PlayStation, going outside or having friends over. This was its own test; if I was too light on the punishment he thought my offense deserved I’d get screamed at and beat there by hands of his like iron and sent back to my room to wait to further reflect with a 50-50 chance of him either calling me into his room to whip me or to give me a second chance with a worse longer punishment chosen by me for the now double offense.

I hate how awkward I am with gifts. I know it’s partly dads fault. He’d buy me all kinds of things all the time. I didn’t really ever ask. Not to the sheer amount he would go out and get and give stuff. I was to be appropriately thankful. But of course, if I messed up with having not finished all the chores (and the right way) or not responding to him quick enough, watching cartoons before I finished my homework, you name it, my new stuff often got broken in front of me. Snap and crushed and thrown and shattered as he screamed over me as I was also yelled at to pick that shit up. And fast.

So yeah mom. I’m sorry he ruined holidays and gifts for you. I’m honestly sorry you still think about your time with him and that it hurts you. But you’re talking to the wrong person. I’m aware what it’s like, and I know you know. You want to relate on that but not really hear much from me except validation to how much it’s fucked you up.

I wake from the dead of sleep when a door slams. I didn’t even wake when I was asleep in a carcrash, that’s how heavy I sleep, you hear? And this door thing isn’t new but it got revamped by an event when I was just out of highschool. We built a home in Texas and we had a lot of space. I just happened to met and know and bond with folks in shitty situations and offered them a place to live until they got on their feet. One of the girls begged for her mother’s dog to stay with us. Mind you she never took care of this dog. My other roommates and I did. I even built the lady a doghouse as well as buying a big water thing for outside since it’s TEXAS.

But one weekend I was dog sitting for a friend who was going out of town for a horse show she was part of. Big lanky playful pup. He wasn’t hurting the old little dog but he did keep trying to get her to play. The girl didn’t like that and kept separating them. I told her to not move that dog away from the shelter and water, it’s summer in Texas. I had been working a double shift (16hrs) and was fucning exhaushsted and just crashed on my bed with one of my friends. (I had a big bed. Often shared with a handful of people). Well, apparently that girl moved that dog far away from hers, leaving the poor thing chained up to a single tree, no shelter, no water, and he was crying. My father stormed into the basement madder than fucking hell.

He doesn’t tolerate animal abuse. I was barely an hour into sleep, unaware of the situation, when he grabs and yanks me by the ankle, it startled awake my fried next to me, as he screamed at me. I thought he was going to throw me against the wall. I was still not fully awake to process what he was screaming at me for. Which enraged him more. I figured out what it was and quickly moved the dog back to the shelter and water and reported to my still super pissed off father. I got pretty upset with that one roommate; it ended up being one of the many many things that I had her move out over. I’m not my father, even if angry at the other shit she had pulled, I packed her stuff and helped load it into her car as she went to live somewhere else. No matter how bad it got between me and some of my temporary roommates, I always packed their stuff and helped loaded it away.

But being jarred awake and fearing instantly for my life as I was face to face with my fathers rage has me still on alert with slamming doors.

And right now? Living with my wife’s parents and aunt, it’s becoming a slight problem. Our nephew spends most of his time here than he does at his own home. Since COVID he’s been to his own home less than a week in total. And his grandparents and great aunt are 100% enablers of really shitty behavior. They just want quiet so they left him have whatever he wants no matter what. Anytime my wife and I try to law down rules and enforce them he screamed and slammed shit, telling everyone to fuck off and how he hates them, loudest screaming he can manage, more slaming more screaming, and this can go on for an hour or more.

And the ‘adults’ yell at US and tell us off in front of the kid. He’s aware he will get what he wants. If he doesn’t want to go to school, he doesn’t go. This kid spent well than more days home than at school. Just cuz he didn’t feel like it and wanted to play video games. He watches stupid shit on Instagram and tilt ol and your Uber influencer folks and sees all this named brand shit and insists he HAS to have that shit. That shit that costs enough money to make your eyes buldge for a stupid crappy hoodie or his, no joke, 100th pair of shoes or newest PC assessory or whatever.

His mother time to time borrows money she doesn’t always pay back, cuz she and her boyfriend struggle with bills or feeding their own cats cuz she never tells this kid no since he throws a bitch fit. It’s wearing so fucking thin on us. It’s hard to dote and love on our nephew when he’s so shitty to his family. He refuses to go to therapy and no one makes him go. He literally less than a YEAR ago finally started wiping his own ASS, and he’s 11.

I’ve been warning him a lot lately to not have his laptop at the table cuz there’s a bunch of folks at the table with plates and bowls and multiple glasses of water, pitchers of water, and he’s gonna be really upset if he ruins his computer. He can just use his phone. It’s not like he stays at the table that long as it is. He’s been super bitchy about it but I’ve been very stern on it the last few days. Well, today he was fucking around with something with the water and got it on his phone. There were no paper towels.

So he threw an horrid fucking fit. Lost his entire fucking mind. As my wife and I are trying to reason with him and teach him to not react like this when things happen like that and to instead ask for help or thibk, what else can I use, like the kitchen towel for example, everyone’s enabling his tantrum and coddling it and telling us to hush up. We are trying to teach him how to fucking handle life! Any time any little thing doens go his way immediately he gives up or throws a fit or something! It’s not healthy. So we are trying to ask him to talk about why he’s feeling overwhelmed with this or that, help him figure out what can be done (or accept that sometimes that’s just how life is, what’s important it your attitude, a spilt glass is a spilt glass, whether you laugh or scream and cry. It’s happened. Your approach to how you handle that will make you a happier person and folks happier to be around you).

We help him where we can, try to show him things. But no one else cares! If it’s not an instant quick fix to what he wants we need to shut up and back off. And it just fucning sucks to see how this is only going to end badly! He isn’t being raised how to handle anything at all in life. His moms off living her single life with her boyfriend and we’re trying to raise this kid with three adults who are all making things worse and overriding any progress we make.

Today. He snatched his laptop and made a point of putting it on the table during us prepping dinner. I took it out and told him it can wait until he’s done with dinner, we’re already trying to fix his phone. He will survive one dinner without being on his phone or computer.

He throws himself to the fucking FLOOR screaming and crying. I get yelled at by one of the grandparents while the great aunt tried to ‘reason’ with me. Last time she distracted me with what I thought was genuine conversation she was actually having with me but was really jsut so the kid could sneak his laptop into the kitchen. So I stood my ground this time. Let the kid throw his stupid fit. Dinner will be finished soon and he can play and watch his videos. He literally takes 10 minutes to eat and leaves. I’m in the midst of helping my wife cook and set the table when I’m told to essentially shut up and let him have the laptop and.

I just got so mad. I apologizes to my wife but i know my limits. I know them. And I was about to do or say something. It’s every god damned day with this. I literally wake up to this kid screaming and bitching and slamming doors and throwing fits cuz he wants something and he’s not getting it. He literally got those tiny finger plastic skateboards cuz he saw and wanted them. And his mom came and picked him up to go BUY these when she’s nearly broke, yelled at us for calling him out on this and how he could have waited, and then ten minutes later ask us for money and food for her pets.

And today?

Today I was so fucking done. So fucking mad. So mad at how they treat my wife. So mad at how their attitudes are ruining the development of this kid who I really do love and I only see him getting shittier as a person. And I went to our room. And my wife joined and cried and cried. Of course the kid got his laptop and all was fine for everyone downstairs. Of course it was. My wife had already cooked dinner and prepped the table. I already folded and hung out the latest laundry. Who cares if we’re hurting.

On my way up the stairs I told that kid he’s an asshole. To be fair its almost daily he screams at us to go fuck our selves and that we are assholes and how he hates us. I told him he treats his family badly, the family who loves him. And that’s what I left it at. They’re all Italian. I’m still learning to speak so I’m not able to articulate myself super strongly. Which makes ALL OF THIS so much harder and more frustrating. So so so much harder. But I’m so tired of my wife crying. I’m so tired of how they treat her. I hate how her aunt texted how she loves her and then goes on to excuse this kids shit behavior and reprimand our actions and shit. Why is it the kids feelings are the only ones that matter? Why is my wife constant collateral? You’re damned right I’m fuckin mad.

I’m struggling to work on overcoming my own personal problems and triggers with this EDMR therapy and I’m wakin up up a cocktail of some of my literal nightmares and the kid and family KNOW IT. They don’t know the finer details like my wife and therapist. But fuck man. They KNOW and yet they let him keep behaving like this. They keep telling us we are wrong and we’re being too hard on the kid and he’s struggling cuz his parents divorced.

Well shit kid. That sucks. I’m sorry. That’s rough. But you literally have a huge family of people who adore and love you. My god I would love to have that. Right now? The fucked up part? My closest kindest most helpful person in my life besides my wife is my father. His age has mellowed him out. He’s still fucked on some stuff. But it’s been nearly 30 years. He’s not totally changed but he surly is worlds away from the man I started out with. His financial help provides us food on the table. He recently helped us get a new fridge so my wife’s parents can use it without bending and hurting their backs.

Today I get informed by my mother in law, who had not been present for any of tonight’s drama, that my wife needs to stop and that I am to not curse as her grand son ever again. Which, I said he was being an asshole? Cuz he was? He was screaming Curses at us, has been nearly every day anytime he’s mad. I called him out. I didn’t scream it; I don’t scream. I want to be nothing like my father. But I did call him out. Am I proud for calling an 11 boy he’s an asshole? Erm. No. But god he’s emotionally abusive to this family ajd they allow and encourage it. I’m so scared he’s gonna end up pushing one of them in his fits and it’s gonna hurt one of them badly or worse! Their health’s already shaky. We’ve already had to help her father up the stairs and to the bathroom and get dressed and undressed due to him feeling back. Hell today my wife took him to a few different docs. It’s been a long fucking day.

This kid was being horribly rude and nasty to my wife. To the grandparents who love him. Was close to breaking stuff. All cuz he had to eat without his laptop! Cuz he didn’t listen and got water on his fuckin phone! Which is now working thank god; we fixed that. I just.

I want to cancel therapy. Wise? No. Probably not. But we NEED to get out of here.

We already don’t really have any friends. We kinda do. But it’s.. kinda temporary conditional. Generally more along the lines of ‘work’ related or we’re the only ones free at that moment in time. Not that they’re bad folks they just don’t need us like we need in return.

Personally I know I have problems. I’m boring. I’ve abandonment issues I have and still am working on. And I overthink and I’m so worried that this fucking cluster of things just.. make me one of those folks doomed to just. Not have friends. I hate myself every waking moment of my fucking life cuz I so badly want friends. I wish I didn’t. I have tried and tried to not want it. But I do. And it sucks. I know it’s me; when something keeps happening it’s clear you’re the problem. And I ask often. Maybe once a week, a month for sure, my wife what I am doing wrong. What I’m not doing enough. What I could do better. She doesn’t have any answers and I can’t keep asking her. I hate to ask. I hate wearing her down. I don’t know what to do. I am just a fun fling friend. A week, a month, sometimes a year or so, but then it dwindles and dies off

And I spent all my life living between homes when it wasn’t with my father, giving up on my privacy, on my interests, my freedom, to put on a smile ajd take on new chores, often caring for kids, and swallowing my own feelings and being less than second or even third place in anyone’s life; I just want someone to choose me first you know? I miss the days of having friends who were excited to have free time cuz that meant they had time to hang out or chat or something! I don’t beg; I won’t beg. I don’t want to have to fight for a slot in someone’s schedule and pray I get lucky. I also know I can’t expect people to have the same wants in a relationship as I do. And so I’m stuck. Sad, quiet, and thankful for what I get when I get it, and quietly letting stuff go. Because the few friends I have are decent folk, but I’m never going to be that friend folks want to be around to just be around.

And I’m still struggling to accept that. Cuz fuck. Alright it hurts. I look back and every friendship lasted only as long as I had something to provide in service. Once I couldn’t provide or they found something better, either they drifted off or just completely dropped off the radar. And that…

That sucks so fuckin much. I don’t think I’m a shitty person? I think I can be entertaining? I listen. Maybe my humor isn’t okay? I ramble too much? Too spacey? I go over the list so often I don’t even know. I’m tired.

I’m not talking romantic here but god I do want to be loved. Or at least have a couple folks good at faking it. I hate that I miss my most toxic friendships. At least they were around. I knew theyd talk to me. Want to. Would seek me out. I knew free days meant we were gonna chill (not always but a good chance!). And I know adult friendships are a bit different. I know work and romance and family take the front seat.

I just want to matter to someone a little more than the one use I can provide. I want to be more than a fun temporary distraction.

I’m beyond thankful for the woman I married. And I mourn that her friends live far away too. We both just want friends. I want to have my wife tell me she’ll be back late cuz she’s going out. I want to see her send me a silly photo or a food snap and have her come back home late, glowing and laughing and smiling with her friends. I want to invite them over to dinner and be on comfortable terms with them. I want to goofy around and be loud and rough house and geek out with my own friends. I want to have that found family you know?

Nearly everyone’s dead on my fathers side and whose left is.. best left alone. Or has made it clear they don’t thibk much of me. Ajd my mother’s side don’t talk to me. I moved so much I don’t know them and most of them never bothered cuz they never thought I’d survive as it were. My mother’s burnt bridges and that means any chance I had is pretty much gone. I don’t know where each and every cousin and and it’s just wierd to try and connect cuz we have blood. It’s just. Been too many many years. And it’s not like a single persons ever reached out my way you know? Polite to my face and I so back. But that’s the end of it.

God I’m just so burnt out. I’m so sad more than not. I’m trying to get out of my funk. I hate how I stay in bed. I don’t mean to. I just. It’s our only space to be left alone in, for the most part. Every home I’ve lived in being alone was best. My room (if I had that, or at the least it was shared with someone else), was one of the few solace’s. Usually my only real peace was the bathroom.

And I am finding it hard to break out of that. I want to quit therapy and save up money and get us OUT of here. I feel my progress would go better and my wife would be so much happier if we could just Get Out.

Maybe we’d even be fortunate and meet some friends who liked us and wanted to be around, if we had our own place? A fun possibility. I am use to running a house. I’ve done it countless times. It was my job with my father. Often it was a strange mash up of that with other families but with a lot less freedom.

I’ve stayed up all night cuz I feel like puking and I’m drowning and I needed to just.. get the thoughts out of my head just a little. I know I’ve only scratched the surface. I haven’t shared everything. I don’t really plan to. But these are the things most in my head

Dealing with this shit. On top of this therapy that has me reliving my childhood traumas one at a time to heal them over or some shit on top of waking up to screaming and doors slamming as my wife gets yelled at for trying to stop that situation sucks. Seeing my phone buzz only to constantly see just comic updates (often to comics I’m not even waiting on), my father messaging me either bad news or stuff he’s doing, and my mother with her bullshit and her bad news and guilt trips, instead of a friendly hello is just.

I’m tired of crying too. My fathers discipline has made me adverse to crying. I literally tore myself off the road when I wrecked my motorcycle, I forced my knee to bend so I could continue on my way to work where I treated the road rash, the rolled flesh, the open wounds, with rubbing alcohol— which took the breath right out of my fucking lungs, and I didn’t cry. But this shit?

I’m so worn. My therapist praises me for surviving when I wish I didn’t.

For my wife? I will try. For her. I can’t hurt her.

But god. What’s fucking relief it would be. I wish there was just something I could do. To fix this. To be less selfish and problematic. Though as I can very clearly remember wishing all my life for any kind of mercy to never see it, I know that’s not gonna happen. You are your own hero or your own villian. Right now I’m both and I’m losing.

I’m probably gonna just get dressed since the suns up and start drawing more wood plans. I need to make extra money. I can be sad and work; I’ve had jobs before. Ha.

I thoroughly believe life will be a little better once we have breathing room. I’m so tired.