#im not crying all day anymore so im not emotionally exhausted enough to just pass out

[burnedbyshoto]

Can I request a self conscious chubby Shouto? Reader gives him kisses on his tummy and reassures him about his weight?

tw: shouto has poor body image, fluff, angsty

shouto had been hospitalized for five months.

after what was most definitely the most horrific villain attack seen on live tv against only one hero, the doctors never shut up about how he was lucky to have won, how lucky he was to be alive. it was far after the days that recovery girl had passed, and with no healing quirk having matched her ability it had been a long five months in hospice care.

he had spent one month in a coma and the next four just healing. it had been a hard four months, his body almost refusing to move, black and yellow bruises covered his body still, and the diet... the diet they had him on was one that was supposed to help him gain weight. it was to help with his healing and aid with the muscle gain he was going to need in order to be where he once was - he understood that and he appreciated the doctors doing what was best for him but he didn’t understand how he went from his strong, toned, and lithe form to one with flappy arms, pooling thighs, and a tummy so large he couldn’t see his toes without leaning forward. he never thought he would hate that he couldn’t see his jawline anymore, that he could hate that he couldn’t sit up without feeling his stomach, hate that he was so hungry all the time. he hated that he was so... he was so—

“welcome home!” you cheered merrily, guiding shouto back into the house that had been without his presence for almost half a year.

he tried to focus on you and only you, your mindless babble about how you had learned how to make cold soba noodles for him while he was in the hospital (although you made sure to insist that they weren’t that good so to not get his hopes up, but shouto was tittering on being excited and nauseous at the thought of having endless cold soba), how you had temporarily moved the master bedroom into the closest room to the front door and kitchen just in case he wasn’t ready to move that much, how you had accidentally broken the sliding door but had his brother come and fix it for you, and of course just how happy and grateful you were that he was out. shouto tried to stay engaged but he could feel the eyes scorching on his back, the nosy neighbors and paparazzi who wanted the first pictures of him since his release.

he hated this, he hated his body right now, and their judgmental gaze burned him from the inside out. for over twenty years of his life he had never been without muscle on his body and now... now he was... he was—

“watch your step, you’re been limping again, I don’t want you to trip,” came your gentle voice, your foot planted on the stair and the other on the floor as if to support him in case he fell. like you could keep him upwards if he did, he bitterly thought.

regardless, shouto gave you a gracious half smile and carried through, stepping up to the stair and flinching when he felt that skin he was still starkly unfamiliar with move. but the moment the front door closed behind the both of you, shouto felt empty.

the rest of the day was filled with shouto adjusting to the house once more. adjusting to the way the floors creaked under his feet, of how you always waited for him to enter through the doorways instead of attempting to go through them with him, of how you lingered behind him with conscious eyes and nervous fingers. he knew you were worried, it was as obvious as the sun during a summer heat wave, but it offered him no comfort... it only made him feel worse, made him graze his fingers against his... his...

“why don’t you take a shower?” you suggest, your hands grabbing the dishes on the table. you had made soup, he was still to be on a mostly liquid diet until next week. “I bet this has been exhausting, and if you shower then I can shower and we can sleep early tonight!”

shouto strained a smile again, his tongue still failing to speak. he hasn’t spoken a word in weeks, but you never seemed to grow angry at his lack of words thankfully. his eyes fluttered close when you leaned across the table and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his body shivering both at the familiar contact that he loved and the aching pain that continued to be suppressed.

showering nearly killed him.

feeling the way that his body now worked within the confines of the small room made his head spin. he hated that he couldn’t merely twist his body anymore, he had to completely turn around. he hated that he had to use more body wash, his hands shaking when he maneuvered around the fat that had built on his stomach, the stretched skin that fell on his thighs and arms.

stretch marks... as if the scar on his face wasn’t enough.

with a shaky sigh, he turned off the water and exited the shower.

he wasn’t feeling too bad with the warm water soaking into his skin, but he made the mistake of looking into the mirror as he made his way back to the room.

a mistake.

a mistake.

a mistake.

his eyes bore into his figure, was this really him? he could barely recognize himself. this... this had to be a mistake, there was no way this was him. his hands pressed to his side, hoping that this was all a figment of his imagination, just some twisted depression that was keeping him bound to the worst of this all.

but his hands fell on his body right where he had hoped they wouldn’t, and something snapped within him.

CRASH!

shouto didn’t even realize that he was panting like some rabid animal, his body trembling with extreme force, and the room covered with ice and burn marks. he collapsed forward, suddenly feeling weak, and with every ragged breath tears pricked at the back of his eyes, threatening to fall out but wouldn’t.

he was...

he was f--

“shouto? are you okay in there?”

he couldn’t even bother turning his head to look over at the opening door, but had he, he would’ve seen the way that your head peeked in, your eyes focused with concern, sympathy, and love. he focused on his hands, the white of his gripping knuckles, and the bulge of his veins.

“I-I’m okay,” he finally spoke, his head remaining low, horrid thoughts plaguing his head as the cold hallway air drafted into the room sending shivers down his spine - not that he reacted to it.

“that’s a lie if I ever heard one,” you sigh, not even trying to give him the satisfaction of believing his lie. but again, that was a quality he loved about you. “I won’t press because i’m sure this has been an overwhelming day for you, but... i’m here for you, shouto, you know?”

it was then that your hand pressed against his spine, and shouto felt his soul leave his body.

he didn’t want you touching him like this, he thought, storming away, trying to avoid your worried look as he pushed past you.

no not like this, his eyes clenched and his fists trembled at his side.

he was ugly, he gasped for air as he entered the room, his vision swimming.

he was... he was--!

“please don’t cry... please don’t cry without telling me why you’re upset!” your voice begged and shouto hated how distraught you sounded. “are you in pain?”

“no. well, not really.”

“is this happening too fast? were you discharged too soon?”

“no... i’m fine.”

it’s....

“was it the food? I know i’m still learning, but I didn’t think the food was that bad!”

“n-no, not that...”

it’s because...

“then what’s going on, sho?”

“it’s because i’m fat!” shouto finally spat, his body shaking with exploding emotion, steam spilling from his body as if he was fighting some evil villain.

his face was set in stone, a look of pure emotionlessness as long as you didn’t look into his eyes. as long as you didn’t know that sad glint in his eyes meant that he was emotionally beyond repair right now. he saw your mouth drop, most likely to ease any ‘untrue’ thoughts that danced on his mind. he didn’t want to hear it.

“I am, y/n, i’m fat. my clothes don’t fit and I have to wear these... throw away clothes! the doctors said im almost twice my usual weight. I-I have fat in places I didn’t even know existed, my stomach is so fucking huge i’m surprised kaminari hasn’t sent me some pregnant meme by now, and it took all my energy to just shower today. i’m fat!” shouto heaved, his forehead covered in cold sweat while glaring at the wall to the left of your head. he couldn’t look at you right now, not after that outburst.

the silence lingered thickly in the air, corroding the muscles in his throat, making his heart flutter in anxiety driven pulses while you shifted from foot to foot, your teeth gnawing at your lower lip. he wanted to apologize to you, for what he didn’t know but he felt bad. his actions were halted by you sharp inhale, and that kind strong smile that fell on your face.

“...well, im not going to fight you on that, but i’m glad you spoke your mind,” you said softly, your hands moving to grip each other while you tried to save face in front of him. it was obvious that you hadn’t even thought that which made shouto feel even guiltier. “I’m going to shower, so please get ready for bed, yeah? we’ll talk more once we’re in bed and relaxed a bit!”

shouto’s nostrils flared, his heart squeezing at the fact that you still showed him such kind and soft love, and so he nodded his head in agreement.

“I won’t take long,” you promised about your shower, and shouto smiled even if a bit emotionlessly before your lips pressed softly against his. “be right back, get ready.”

he wasn’t sure how long it took him to get ready and for you to join him in bed, but his eyes were opened and he was staring off at your side of the bed as you climbed into bed. the gentle, warm, and cool scent of your hair wash and body wash drafted into his nose, a very welcoming smell after months of knowing only the sterile smell of bleached walls and floors.

“you ready to talk?” you asked him, and shouto blinked once, twice, his sight refocusing on your shining eyes and furrowed brow. he knew immediately that you had a lot to speak on, most likely creating some sort of script to follow.

“no,” shouto couldn’t help but say, his own worries forgotten for a moment when the natural need to tease you infiltrated his veins. “but i’m ready to hear you talk.”

your lips pursed, twitching in a way that made it obvious to him at least that you were resisting the urge to verbally attack him. 

“five months ago, I thought I was going to lose you.” you began, your eyes uncharacteristically dropping from his own gaze and trailing down his body, as if in disbelief that he was even here. your hands moved to his chest, pressing softly onto the skin that he was hateful towards. “when I got the news that you had been hospitalized, and that you had gone into a coma... I wasn’t sure what to think. but you woke up before I knew it and then four months went by after you woke up, and i’ve been so... grateful that you survived that I hadn’t even bothered to think about how you must be feeling about this entire thing. I know this is a lot of change, its a lot of change, and I don’t know how to really help, but this is what I think.”

shouto felt his breathing nearly stop as your fingers trailed down the fat on his arms, his chest and his stomach. your eyes almost shyly met his and you pressed a kiss to his lips, unwilling to allow him to think for a second that this was just some staged thing. 

“your weight doesn’t define you. your weight doesn’t make you less desirable. does your weight make you fat? sure, it completely does, but there’s nothing wrong with being fat. fat is not ugly, fat is not weak, fat is not less. bodies need fat, its basic biology. without fat we can’t exist, we can’t do anything, and sure right now you have more than you’ve ever had - but it’s okay, you’re still healthy and that is what matters. i mean look at fat gum! sure, he needs to be fat in order for his quirk to work, but nevertheless, he’s fat and he’s a pro hero. he’s healthy and still he’s fat. if you would rather be skinny than fat, that’s okay, you can choose what you want to be, as long as it’s done with good intentions. at the end of the day you’re still my shouto, you’re the man I know and love because fat determines none of that. I love the fat on your body as much as I loved the abs because either way it’s you.”

the words rang heavy in his ears, all thoughts and reasons he had seemingly disappeared the moment the last word was said. and tears fell from his eyes when you kissed every spot on his body that he had once been dreadfully insecure about. every kiss to his stomach sent butterflies through every cell, every soft breath spreading chills until he was gasping for breath - until you were finally back to his face and pressing kisses to his face until he wrapped you closer.

“I love you in any form you take.”

~

a/n: it may not be my place to share this with you, but while writing this it actually reminded me of a ted talk I had seen once. I think its a very good talk, and dismantles a lot of mainstream thoughts about self love which I at least thought was important. if you were able to make it to the bottom of this, I suggest checking it out because as this video re-taught me, fat is not a synonym for ugly, and we should stop believing that it is.

[ayanna-wild]

Standing On The Edge

Word Count: 730

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, possible trigger, abuse, depression, attempted suicide

Call 1-800-273-8255

Available 24 hours everyday

(This is a suicide hotline number, and if you don't want to call them, you can message them instead.)

A/N: Request from someone who wishes to remain anonymous. If anyone is having thoughts like this or you feel alone or hopeless, please message me. You are not alone, and I'm here for anyone who needs someone to talk to. And no matter what you may think, or what you are told, absolutely no one deserves to be abused, physically, mentally, or emotionally.

Summary: Who would have thought the Devil would be the one to talk you down.

........................................................................

The air was cold, and the breeze pushed your once neat hair in all directions, but you didn't care you just continued to stare at the city below you. The stars on any other night might have looked beautiful, but not tonight, not now.

You took a careful step onto the ledge, the air only getting colder as you did. It was almost too dark to see the ground below you, but surprisingly that didn't make this any easier. Your breath was shallow, and your heart raced.

"Are you going to jump?"

The voice startled you, and you turned your head to look at the person standing by the door to the roof. You hadn't heard the heavy rusted door open, or his footsteps falling onto the gravel of the roof.

"I'm not sure yet." You muttered.

He took a careful step forward, but seeing your body tense he froze.

"I thought this building was abandoned."

Your voice was hollow, and your expression seemed completely broken and worn out. You looked exhausted, like you hadn't slept in such a long time.

"Oh it is, I was passing by though, it's very hard not to notice someone standing on the edge of a building though. I'm surprised no one else is up here to be honest." He mused.

You looked back at the dark street below, he was right, you were in plain view of everyone.

"People notice what they want to, not everyone goes out of their way for a person on a roof. So why did you?"

Although you asked, your voice made it sound as if you didn't care either way. Like it wouldn't change what you were about to do.

"Curiosity, perhaps I'd like to know why." He shrugged.

That caught you off guard, and your thoughts came to a stop. You turned, just slightly, just enough to look at him.

"Why?" You repeated slowly.

He nodded, and you noticed while you had been distracted he had moved closer.

"Yes, why... why do you feel so hopeless, that this wound seem, so inviting to you?"

That question, that simple inquisitive question, left a heavy feeling in your chest. It provoked emotions you thought you'd buried it a last effort to save yourself from pain. Yet, the answer was no puzzle you knew exactly why.

"I'm tired of hurting."

It was a simple answer, but the words were heavier than anyone could ever know.

"I don't see any bruises."

You gave him a sad smile, knowing he knew exactly what you meant, but was keeping you talking, keeping you longer in this world. He was getting closer with each question he asked.

"Sometimes, words leave bigger scars then knives do."

He watched you turn away from him, your eyes becoming misty.

"Do you have a name my dear, I'm Lucifer Morningstar."

Your voice was quiet and almost inaudible as you uttered your name, but he heard nonetheless. He smiled, close enough now to grab you, but he didn't, simply held out his hand for you to take.

"Y/N, would you like to talk for a bit?"

You left your arms limply at your sides, refusing to even meet his eye anymore.

"I didn't. I thought I'd finally made peace with what I came here to do." You sounded confused, and a little frustrated.

"And now?"

When had you started crying?

Lucifer gave you such a kind smile, holding out his hand to you, still inviting you to step off the ledge. Inviting you to talk to someone who would actually listen, someone who had gone out of their way to keep you from taking that final plunge into darkness.

"I'm not sure anymore..." You let out a shaky breath.

Lucifer grabbed your hand, the look he gave you wasn't pity, but rather understanding.

"Then it's time to step back from the edge love, wouldn't want to do something you might regret." He said softly.

You took one last look at the ground below, it no longer looked inviting, and your stomach became unsettled.

"I guess today isn't my day." You agreed.

You let him help you down, but he didn't let go of your hand.

"Let's get you out of the cold my dear, you seem like you have a few things on your mind."

Your nodded, your feet firmly planted on the ground.

"Okay."

..............................................................................

@we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @adira-secrets @beththedemonhunter @shywriting @emiwrites3reads @gingernarwal @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @sallyp-53 @officalfangirl @cptgryps @mizzezm @measure-in-pain

[magicalgirlpropaganda]

Things that are hot and sexy (because i do them)

• being unable to cite sources no matter how long you spend on it or how long you try

• getting a boost of motivation to work but on the wrong thing

• actually don't mind doing school work and have a thirst for knowledge but hate failure and not having time to finish assignments

• "wow i can't believe i finished all my assignments for the week! So fast. I have time to study and actually perfect my work and get better grades" *gets more assignments* *cries*

• i can't meet my own high standards

• being so stressed because of mom that i have horrible mood swings and im in a constant state of rage and anxiety

• being relieved when my friends invite me to do things because then i see it as an obligation and im "forced" to go (even though they'd understand if i said no, i see it as an obligation for my own mental wellbeing)

• wanting desperately to help others but struggling to even take care of yourself

• i can do the work, i can handle the workload. But i can't handle the pressure of my mom checking my grades

• i know that I'm smart and i know that I can do it. Ive been working so hard and my work is paying off but i need my mom to trust me

• overeating due to stress and went on an etsy shopping spree. Had to force myself to stop "stress buying" stuff and "stress eating"

• my dumb little passion project went on hiatus because im busy. Which is fine but a bit dissapointing

• i love it here. I don't want to leave. I love the art program. The work is a lot but i love my classes and my friends and my life here. What if one day something horrible happens and i have to leave because its too expensive?

• everything in my life is going good but my mom stresses me out so much that it's no longer going good

• I'm sorry for being incompetent... Even on my medicine. I am much better off than before and i can actually think but. I can't focus and i often miss intructions on assignments unless i write down absolutely everything. Why am i like this?

• my high empathy problems are coming up again because im so emotional.

• i am fine on 6 hours of sleep a night now but i wonder how long that will last. I don't have enough time to sleep for 8 hours every night. And maybe its because i take too many breaks but if i dont take breaks, i can't focus and everything just because thoughts that don't make sense

• im so stressed. Please just let me get my work done. All i ask is to be able to just sit down, relax, get my work done. I want to do so well on the exam later this week that I bump my B to an A or just even a high B.

• at least i enjoy school. High school and before was... Much worse. I don't enjoy spending hours trying to find out how to cite very specific topics and i dislike that one of my professors is a big perfectionist and so i often lose points on assignments (everyone does) no matter how hard i try to make it perfect. And i dislike having to check canvas so often because its difficult to navigate and i swear they try to hide assignments from us. And i hate that i have so much work that some weeks i wonder if i can possibly get it all done. And i hate group projects and i hate writing boring essays. But i love my classes at least. And i want to do well. I will do well. I am going to make all A's if it kills me. I was a B/C student in high school with occasional A's. If i just studied more (i never studied), i could have been one of the best students there, i believe. I didn't study, but I'm glad I didn't because it didn't matter as long as I got ok grades and I passed. I enjoyed my youth (not that im not still young...not that those years weren't the worst). But now i have to make A's or at least high B's because I know i can and I have to prove to my mom that I can do it. Maybe if i get good enough grades, she will back off some. Then I can prove to her that i really don't need her "help".

• this is way too specific of a list

• i want a job. If only i had time for a job. I have a strong work ethic. Im a good little capitalist slave. Please give me mone- i mean. Work. Yeah... Work...

But I dont have time for a job. Im very thankful that i dont need one. But I need to grow up and get a job because it will help me in the future

• speaking of which....a job i applied for months ago just called today... A lite late, buddy. Im 2 hours away now.

• but god... I so want to work there. I hear its a great place to work and the owner is gay (aka, not going to be homophobic to me)

• i wish i had my suitemate/neighbor's life. Like loudly talking on the phone and slamming doors as loud as possible all day long? And she's an RA so she gets paid.

• im calling my mom soon and getting this shit over with. Also i have somewhere to go with friends tonight so we can kidna- i mean recruit ppl for the theatre club. Im no theatre person but i am there for my friend and to make props.

• i can't do it.

• but if i do this, ill be free....

• maybe a quick meditation beforehand. Maybe self hypnosis so i can emotionally numb myself for a few minutes... Idk if im experienced enough to do that yet... But I've been doing it for years so might as well give it a try

• have i really resorted to self hypnosis to deal with the stress of calling my own mother?

• am i really so weak that even though everything is going well, something as simple as my mom calling to check my grades once a week makes me so upset that I cry almost every day about it?

• i know what she is doing is not legal. But what can I do about it?

• my mom thinks that im incompetent as well. That's why she checks my grades. She thinks I can't do it. She didn't even think that I had the ability to live by myself. I proved her wrong there.

• im working so hard partly because of her. So why does me working hard and thus not having time to call make her upset?

• it will all be over by tomorrow.

• perhaps calling her on the phone in a public space would be better. Maybe if she realizes that im not just in my dorm....

Luckily, my mom cares a little too much about social norms. She's used against me this all my life but perhaps it could be beneficial to me.

•thats right. I can just pack my stuff i need for my work. Then ill meditate for a bit and take a tea break. Ill go take everything to a public place with lots of people and call her then.

• i don't want to bring my friends into this, it wouldn't be right. But i wish that they would just sit next to me while I was on the phone. For emotional support at least. But i wouldn't ask them to do that, especially since we haven't known each other long. But i think it would make everything better if i had someone else to back me up

• people must be sick and tired of these posts. Im sorry.

• my mom says she's proud of me, but she doesnt act like it. She used to trust me. When i was 16/17, she would say that its up to me, my responsibility, that I knew what I was doing. Now, im 18. Why does she no longer trust me? I am an adult now. It doesn't make sense. I'm more responsible than I was at that age and im an adult now. It doesn't make sense at all, shouldn't she trust me more?

• i check my own grades religiously. Why is it necessary for her to do so too? What does that accomplish?

• i have an A, 2 almost A's, 2 low B's (but i know i can get the grade up and im studying hard to do so) and one C (it was an assignment that everyone did poorly on and another homework assignment that i did poorly on because I was exhausted). I know a C is bad but it's my drawing class. My favorite class. I do well in there and i think I'm probably one of the better peforming students in there. The C was just a small mistake and since we have more work in there now, getting that grade up will not be difficult. But i feel like all of my hard work just doesn't matter anymore. It will not satisfy her either way. Even if I had all A's, she would probably still be upset that I didn't have high enough A's. One of my professors says that she doesn't give A's on projects because "mistakes happen in art and you have to accept it".

• heavy workload... Im fine doing it but... I can't do it well with the amount of time I'm given. If i just had the weekend as well and not just the rest of the week. If i had just one full day more.

• this weekend will probably be dedicated to next week's work if i can do it early

• i can't call her. It's too stressful.

• im lightheaded just thinking about it

• i have every right to be angry. I have every fucking right to be angry.

• my day should revolve around schoolwork and studying. My weekends should revolve around taking breaks and light workloads. But every moment of every day revolved around my mom instead.

• and to think... If i lived in a place where college wasnt so expensive... Perhaps she would leave me be. Perhaps my grades would be so much better and perhaps I would be happy.

[aces-drew]

Fan fic/hc idea. Peter has nightmares about Michelle dying

hey anon!

i hope you are having a wonderful day and i also hope you have more wonderful days coming your way. thank you so much for the fic idea, i really enjoyed writing this and because i enjoyed it so much, it ended up being longer than i expected (i hope you don’t mind and it’s worth your time).

if you liked it, feel free to send me more fic/hc ideas, i’d love to get back into writing.

hope you enjoy it xx

SPIDYCHELLE FANFICTION

author : michellejonessparker (previously: onesolilquy)

word count : 2,385 words

tags : angst, fluff

warnings : none

MJ waited for her best friend to come back to their shared apartment; she was on the couch watching an old documentary as she always did, her hand tracing over the number buttons of the local news channel she was convincing herself not to enter into the screen.

There’s a sense of urgency in her, one that unsettles her every single night. She was never one to care about friends to be very honest, she kept to herself and mostly overwhelmed herself with objective interests like music and her education. But she found herself stunned at how much she’d grown over the past few years.

Not only did she have friends, but now, at twenty-one, she found herself seeking their company because one thing that Ned and Peter had been since high school, was loyal. They were always there when she needed them; on a good day, when she was really excited to share some resources she found on making information easier to grasp for the academic decathlon, or on a not so good day, when she had really bad cramps because of her period and aunt may passed along some chicken noodle soup through two spluttering, awkward boys that didn’t really know what to say or do when they knew their best friend was bleeding through her genitals. They were such dorks she had realised, but, very dependable dorks.

She had figured out who Peter was way before he told her (because she was definitely smarter than Ned and Peter’s shit excuses), but when he did tell her, probably about eight months into his ‘stark internship’, she ignored her heart stuttering at the trust he had in her and just took it as a very blatant opportunity to shun him for thinking she didn’t know. And she continued to ignore her heart stutter when Peter was being Peter for the proceeding years; she ignored it when he hugged her after winning their second decathlon, ignored it when he kissed her cheek at graduation, and ignored it even when they got into the same uni, hugged her for a moment too long and offered his apartment for sharing because she still hadn’t found a place to live. Basically, she was ignoring the way she felt about him, but that wasn’t the point.

The clock that was placed just above their tv read half past midnight, and she couldn’t do it anymore. She sipped on her tea as she switched channels, and the news droned on about spiderman successfully stopping a bank robbery and apprehending the convicts with minimal damage. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

The location was twenty minutes from their apartment, so she gave it ten minutes before he came back. However, it was only forty five minutes later that Peter came knocking on the door, deathly pale and incredibly bruised.

“What the hell Parker, the reports said that there was minimal damage during the intervention!”

“Yeah, minimal damage to the goddamned bank.”

She beat herself up for the amount of concern she was showing, but she couldn’t help it because she wasn’t sure if he was dying or not. She went beside him to lend some support to the poor boy, he could barely stand.

“I’m not dying MJ, just help me clean my wounds and it’ll be fine. Don’t overthink this please; they’re only a few bruises.”

She hated him for that, how the hell did he know what she was thinking?

MJ had always commended herself for being difficult to read, but this boy was so good at it, and is was incredibly infuriating. Alas, she gave in to that she was told; to be honest, she was just really glad he was okay. After cleaning up his wounds and helping him make tea; because he insisted he could make his own when the dork could barely stand, they headed to her bedroom. It was a ritual of sorts; save the day, clean the wounds together, drink tea, chat, peter leaves to sleep.

Today however, something felt different. She tried to ignore it as she carefully placed herself at the corner of her bed facing the wall. Peter usually took the couch next to her bed, but today he sat opposite her. It wasn’t as intimate as it felt to her; the boy was just sitting in front of her.

“Okay, question.” he said to her, not really looking at her.

“Shoot loser, it’s not like we have all night.” She hurriedly exclaimed while she tried to calm her heart pounding with a foreign intensity.

“Uhmm, well, umm, I was just, umm-”

“Yes?” She tried to sound as confident as she could… as un-desperate as she could.

“Can I sleep with you today?” he spluttered.

Michelle was stunned at the question; it was the first of its kind. Sure she had been on a bed, with a boy before, ten years ago at math camp, but she was confident that this was a little bit more intimate.

“What?”

“Um well, I’m just super tired, and um, I was just wondering, because honestly walking up to my room right now, um, I was just thinking maybe, um-”

“Yeah okay, sure.”

“What?”

“Yeah okay Parker, how many times do I have to say it?”

She found herself surprised at saying yes; she had fantasised about this for god knows how long, but the reality of it was… confusing? Unexpected? Weird?

She didn’t really know.

So yeah, that’s what happened, after MJ got Peter his blanket from his room, she slept next to the wall, and Peter slept next to her.

MJ heard whimpers at first.

It wasn’t disconcerting specifically, but it sure as hell annoyed her, because if Michelle Jones loved anything (other than Peter Parker of course, but that’s again besides the point), she loved her sleep. So naturally, she was bothered by weird sounds waking her up.

She then felt a slight tremor next to her.

Now that disconcerted her, and it also successfully forced her awake enough for her to realise that it was Peter. She realised that her fantasies were far better than the actual thing because one, she didn’t have a lot of space to sleep with him practically invading her bed, and two, Peter was sure as hell a loud sleeper.

At her annoyance, she nudged him.

She did it again.

And again.

But it literally did nothing.

“Honestly Parker, what the hell?” MJ uttered sitting up.

When she turned to kick him awake, she saw something she really didn’t want to. Peter’s blanket was strewn on the floor, and he was hugging himself almost too hard, eyes shut tightly and shivering abnormally. She touched his forehead checking for sweat, evidently there, and realised that he was having a night terror. And from what she could tell, it was a really bad one.

She felt really stupid then; of course his responsibilities had lasting psychological effects on him, how could they not? The boy was turned superhuman when he was a teenager and fought way too many battles completely irrelevant to him. Peter Parker was unrelenting, compassionate, empathetic and someone who went out of his goddamn way for other people, no wonder his brain was trying to find an out.

She was at a loss for thoughts because she had never really expected to see her best friend so emotionally vulnerable, so unexpectedly. Sure, somedays he came home severely hurt, unable to move or walk or even stand; but never had she encountered Peter in an attitude that wasn’t witty and optimistic. Thus, looking at how Peter was shrivelling into himself right now, she was terrified.  

“MJ…” Peter seemed to stutter her name.

She let out a relieved sigh, he woke up. But before she could call out to him in response, asking him to hoist himself up to sit straight, he continued talking.

“Michelle no-”

He was still asleep. And now, MJ was more confused and more terrified than she had been before. She knew she shouldn’t wake him up, and she wasn’t sure she could but she was now full-out panicking and she really couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Peter you have to wake up! Peter, wake up.” She kept muttering it over and over, shaking his shoulder but it wasn’t working. She didn’t want to listen to him being this terrified, she didn’t want to listen to him being terrified of her. She didn’t want to cause him this much pain, even if were in his sleep. It just kept going though, he didn’t stop.

“Michelle… I told you not to come… MJ no… he’s going to take you… he’s going to kill you, MJ… mj, mJ, MJ NOOOOOOO”

He was awake now. But he was screaming. He was thrashing on the bed, crying, and all she could do was hug him, and that’s all she did, she hugged him as hard as she possibly could, praying he calmed down, praying he was in less pain.

“PETER! PETER! PETER, IM HERE, IM HERE!”

She repeated  it like a mantra, through her tears, through his screaming, she just repeated it until he gradually calmed down, repeating it with a decreasing volume, hugging him as tight as she could. She just kept repeating it, over and over and over and over again.

When all she heard were stifled sobs, from both herself and Peter, she worked up the courage to say something, never letting go of him, she realised that she was scared to do so.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning don’t worry, for now, we just need sleep.”

His muscles had eased and he wasn’t shivering anymore. But her heart was heavier than before, and she was more exhausted than she had ever been. After a faint nod from him under the lamplight above them, he intertwined one of his hands with hers and hugged her with the other, this time, the oblivion was kinder to him.

When she woke up the next morning, with the sunlight invading her room through the tiny crevices of her blinders, she felt a rush of panic, Peter wasn’t next to her anymore. She gathered herself and walk-ran out of her room.

Again, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. He was at the counter making coffee, an anomaly because they preferred tea, but nothing about today was like the other days; the air usually of whole comfort was replaced with heaviness and a normally flowing conversation was replaced with a sense of awkwardness hanging above them like a burden.

“I made you some coffee, I know that’s weird for us, because we prefer tea, but I don’t think tea can keep us grounded with the conversation we’re gonna have.”

There was a lack of expression in the both of them, they were scared; Peter had never seen an uncool MJ before, and Michelle had never in her life experienced a Peter Parker like the one from last night.

“Thank you.”

He nodded. Everything was calculated it seemed, they took their ends of the couch; Peter took a sip of his coffee and began talking.

“They started a few weeks ago, I keep seeing Thanos in my mind, it’s horrible. He’s just as controlling and manipulative,” he let out a chuckle then, “I don’t think my brain has actually processed the fact the he’s not a problem now… Anyways, umm, the war that happened, even if it was a while ago, it got me thinking of what really mattered to me, and it’s become a PTSD thing, every single person that is in my life right now, the people I care about, the people I love.” he avoided her eyes. “They’ve been showing up in my dreams… well, nightmares technically, and I just see it every night, he has you, aunt May and Ned in the palm of his hands, and he just… kills you, all of you. Every dream is the same, but it’s a different person every night, it revolves around the three of you. And I just…. I can’t afford to lose more people Michelle, I just…. I can’t… I can’t afford to lose you.”

MJ’s heart sank at the way he stuttered the last sentence, he was crying again, and that was the worst thing because she noticed that Peter crying made her cry, and that was just not okay.

“Ugh loser, you’re making me cry stop.”

And finally, a breakthrough; it felt like they could breathe again, they both let out a chuckle. And something she realised, had changed.

Michelle Jones realised that she was wholly in love with Peter Parker and it was not something that she should be ashamed of; he was the most caring, loving, compassionate and giving soul. She knew then, that anyone in her position would have accepted that a long time ago, she knew that he was worth it, that he was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

And at the same time, Peter Parker realised that he was tired of sleeping in a different bed from the girl he had literally been in love with for god know how long, tired of not being able to kiss her, or hold her, or comfort her; tired of not having her all of these nights to calm his night terrors as skilfully as she did the night before. He was incredibly tired of it, and in that moment, his tiredness (ironically) fuelled his courage.

“Michelle Jones, I think this a good a time as any to tell you that you’re the love of my life, although I doubt you didn’t already know that.”

And just like that, the truth was out; it was an exhilarating feeling for the both of them. His palms were sweaty and he was staring at her all intense, and MJ’s heart was literally, all cliches intended, beating out of her chest. She still managed to keep it cool though (as far as she believes anyway).

“I think this is a given now Parker, don’t you think?”

“What’s a given Jones?” he asks, a tad bit confused. She smirks.

“I think you’re going to be sleeping with me from now on.”

[thankyoudnp-blog]

Please Read

This is the only post that will ever be on this account, it’s a thank you to @danielhowell and Phil Lester (i don't know his tumblr sorry).  If you see this please read it, that would honestly mean the world to me.  Okay so you’ve made it this far I may as well start.  It started last summer when my dad started getting angrier and harder to control, he seemed like he hated me, my mom, and my brother.  It was torturous living with him and it sometimes still is despite him getting better.  I still have the sounds of my moms screams and cries from all the fights at 3am.  Anyways moving on since I have a lot and I don’t want to go into anymore detail, later that summer my mom passed out in the middle of the night after throwing up I didn’t know what was happening it was all a blur, all I remember is my the sounds of ambulances and my neighbor coming over to watch my brother and I.  Keep in mind I was only 11 when this happened, despite being an idiot I was still mature for my age and knew that something was wrong and it wasn’t just a cold.  Later on I went to the hospital to visit her, she stayed there for a week my parents didn't tell me anything about what the doctors said so still don't know this day.  I was starting middle school that week too and it was so difficult, I had began to develop depression and anxiety as well as an eating disorder after one of my brutally honest friends told me I was fat.  I’m still self conscious to this day and should be eating a lot more then I actually do but I'm working on it.  As for my anxiety and depression they continuously got worse and still are.  After a while I started cutting, I told my friends after a while and they all laughed.  They thought I was joking and I was trying so hard not to cry since my dad had always told me crying was weak when I was little (Im not realizing how fucked up that it, thanks dad you're an asshole) I sat there and tried to laugh along, no one noticed anything was wrong so I decided to vent over instagram, I didn't know how to block people so a toxic friend I had at the time saw my rant and yelled at me, saying my feelings weren't valid and that I wasn't the only one with problems. She said I shouldn't trust her or my friends and should go back to bottling up my emotions.  Soon enough I had gone through 6th grade, sure my depression was worse but I had better friends who I could trust and count on to make getting out of bed worth it again.  I constantly felt empty but with them I feel whole and somewhat happy.  That summer was even worse (the summer that just passed) I had a suicide attempt that no one knows about where i tried to overdose and failed miserably.  That summer I had found dan and phil, they made me happy when I felt nothing, they made me laugh and cry and helped to realize I shouldn't bottle things up, they were an inspiration to me and so many others, words can't express how much I love them both.  I went to see ii in LA this year and it made me so happy, they're the reason Im alive right now, they're still the only thing keeping me alive.  The thought that i might be able to tell them this in person one day is the only thing from killing myself right now.  So thank you dan and phil for helping me, you may never know who I am and thats okay I guess but I love you both so much you've made my life worth living.  If @danielhowell or phil happen to see this please dm me saying literally anything I don't even care if you leave me on read after, sorry I sound like a desperate fan but I can't help it I'm sorry if I sound creepy.  Anyways I'm still a mess but at least I have dan and phil. Theres a lot more to say so I might make one more post but I'm too emotionally exhausted to write it right now, thank you for reading this if you did though I doubt thats anyone.

[viralhottopics]

My Youngest Just Got Her License And Im Kind Of A Mess

So, if youre raising kids, you know as well as anyone that milestones are all around us all the time. Moments like first steps and first words and first vomit — theyre everywhere. And those beautiful firsts represent way more than just the actual act of taking the steps or speaking the words or projectiling the vomit — they represent growth and maturity and, above all, change. Stuff that can be hella freaky for a new parent who hasnt experienced a lot of changes yet, not to mention a little sad.

The reality is, most of us feel some twang around the heart region when our kids grow out of one stage and into another. And thats just because its hard to let go of certain phases of cuteness or sweetness in favor of other, less cute and less sweet stages. It just is. Cause most of us really wish our kids could just stay small and adorable and smooshable forever.

But our kids grow up. Fact. They get taller and sassier and more curious about the world around them. More fact, it just happens. And its supposed to. But that doesnt mean we cant be sad about it. Were entitled to that. Weve earned it. In fact, Ive gotten massively nostalgic over the years at just about every change that my girls have gone throughbig and little.

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I think thats because the more our kids grow up, the further out of our reach they get because theyre exposed to so many new people and experiences. And thats tough, emotionally, when youre the mom or the dad being left behind. And even though its supposed to happen, it can still feel sucky sometimes when these big changes come.

Seeing our kids evolve beyond those first firsts — to things like riding a bike or babysitting other kids or getting a job — can really throw our psyche into weird places. Because sometimes were just not ready not to be needed anymore.

Toss something like a drivers license into the mix and bambrick to the face. That one hits you. Hard. Because now, the same kid who, on the morning of her license test couldnt find the clothes hamper to save her life, is now driving everywhere. On her own.

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I mean, its tough enough when the first kid gets a license. Thats its own kind of crazy. But then, when the youngest one gets it, well, thats just madness. That changes everything. Because then, all of a sudden, us parents become sort of inconsequential.

Seriously, think about it. Without needing to schlep them around everywhere, a huge chunk of our time together evaporates. Like poof. Because when the teenage child isnt at school or at sports practice or with friends or locked in their room watching Netflix or doing their makeup, theyre with us in the car. So, without them needing a chauffeur, we more or less never see them again. And Ive realized that Im just not ready for that time together to disappear.

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But Im gonna have to figure it out because my baby girl just passed her test. And shes just like her mother was at sixteenoutta here. Shes daring and confident and ready to road trip to Canada if wed let her.

Now I know I could think of it in different terms, like, “This is amazing! Im free! Now I dont have to worry about driving anybody anywhere!” Unfortunately Im not emotionally wired that way. Im the loser who always loved that car time with my kids. Like having them forget that I was driving when it was full of their friends so I could eavesdrop on all the dish I wasnt supposed to know. Or when wed have car picnics when they were little in between school and soccer practice. Or the spontaneous trips to the mall to buy even more unnecessary makeup. Good times. All of them.

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And even though it can be totally exhausting to have to drive our kids all over the world every day, for years and years and years, its also priceless quality time we get to spend with each other.

Look, I was sixteen once, so I get it — passing that license test means a whole new world if youre a kid. It means independence and autonomy and freedom. I remember thinking it was that first, real grown-up-level plateau that lifted me onto the adult playing field. And it felt amazing. I was fearless and adventurous and ready to drive cross-country the very next day after my road test.

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But now, as the mom, it means something entirely different. It means that my baby and I dont have our six-minute-drive twice-a-day together on the way to or from school. It means we lose that little sliver of time to talk without any real distractions. It means we cant jam together to all her favoriteTop 40 music. And it means Im stuck with a useless extra AUX cord now that she and her sister share a car.

So yes, Libby, mommys sad right now. And I have a small confession. When you accused me of crying on the day you got your license and I denied it, saying instead that some massive dust fiber kamikazed my eye, I was lying. Bold-faced lying. The truth is, Im gonna miss you as my wingman. I hate the idea of having an empty seat next to me where you used to sit.

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Maybe dad and I will just have to have a third kid so I can do it all over again. Or not.

For more from Lisa Sugarman, visitLisaSugarman.comandTwitter.

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