#it would be a little easier if boss wasn't cutting my hours

[nanamis-bigtie]

having a relatively calm day after a streak of few-times-a-day meltdowns since december is weirdly eerie and i honestly dunno what to do with myself before it hits me again

[tyuns-world]

🖇️ Mr. Mr.🖇️

Pairing: fem! Reader x boss! Yeonjun

Genre: smut, secret romance, power imbalance, degrading, slight cnc not really but didn’t want to chance it

Warnings: smut

Summary: What started as a simple internship turns into something more when your boss offers you a part-time position. As you grow closer, the line between work and personal begins to blur, and things quickly spiral out of control.

You had planned to work here only for a paid summer internship. This office wasn't even in the field you truly aspired to work in. Yet here you are, accepting a part-time position offer from the boss. The very boss who lays you down on his table during his lunch break.

He wants you close, and he wants you available. The position is a step back from the internship job—you'd just be his personal assistant—but imagine how much easier it would be to satisfy him, without worrying about who sees you coming and going from his office at odd hours.

He knows you'll accept; he knows how addictive he is, how no one can say no to him, especially you. You couldn't say no even on your first day when he ordered you to bend over, and you just did it, only asking questions after the fact.

"Is this appropriate, for me to bend over your desk like this, Mr. Choi?" you ask, your chest resting on his desk while your backside is arched in the air.

Your tight pencil skirt hugging your curves, the slit on the side revealing more of your long, thick brown legs covered in tights. He almost—keyword almost—drools at the sight.

"You're asking after you've already done it?" Yeonjun chuckles. Despite being confused, you make no moves to get off his desk.

"Why did you follow my order so obediently, Y/N?" His hand slides over your ass, and you arch your back in response to his touch.

"You're the boss. I just assumed it's kind of like a test to see if I'll follow your orders, and I will. I'm very hardworking, so you'll never have any problems with me." You pitch yourself to your boss, but he's wholly uninterested in your qualifications. He just saw how hot you looked in your office wear and wanted to fuck you.

"Mhm, so you'll follow any command your boss gives?" He lightly smacks your ass. You jump a bit, feeling your panties grow damp from the exchange.

"Yes, I've never worked under anyone before, and I don't want to ruin this opportunity." You're bullshitting. You thought he was sexy from the moment you saw him and were more than willing to comply with his every desire.

He had a seductive, fox-like face, his hair was styled down, with the top button of his shirt casually undone, exposing his very inviting collarbones. His attire was meant to give off a more laid-back boss vibe, though everyone knew the tight control he has and his zero-tolerance for errors.

"Mhm, so if I ordered you to take off your tights and panties, you'd do it?" His voice held a lot of amusement. It was clear he didn't expect such a bold move on your first day. He enjoyed teasing, he wanted to flirt with you, make you blush every time he passed by, and then after a while get you bent over his desk.

"If that's what you wish." you stand up, remove your shoes, and drop your tights and now-soaked panties. Returning to your previous position on his desk

His eyes widen in surprise. Either you're really bold or desperate to be in his good graces, either way, he doesn't care. You're offering yourself up to him on a platter. How could he say no?

"You know, you should wear shorter skirts around here; makes for easier access," he says as he rolls your skirt up over your ass. The cold office AC air hits your wet cunt, causing you to shiver a little.

"Okay, Mr. Cho—" he cuts you off. "Just call me Yeonjun."

"Okay, Mr. Yeonjun." That earns you a spank on the ass. "I said just Yeonjun. What happened to never making any mistakes, hmm? I'm not one who takes too kindly to people who can't do simple tasks." He rubs your ass where he spanked, soothing it but also reminding you what happens if you mess up.

"I'm sorry, Yeonjun. It won't happen again."

Oh, how tempted you were to do it again. You wanted him to touch you more, to spank you harder, to bring you to tears. "That's a good girl," his voice deepens, and you moan at his words.

He rubs his finger over your pussy, gathering all your juices. You start panting, moans threatening to escape. You don't know how soundproof his walls are, and you're not trying to find out.

He sinks that finger deep inside your pussy. You moan, your back arching with pleasure. "Mr. Yeonjun, are you sure this is a good idea?" The "Mr." slips out; you weren't trying to test his patience currently.

He slaps your ass again, harder this time, causing it to jiggle from the force. "Mhm, see, I was gonna take it nice and slow—that's what I do for my good, obedient girls. But it seems you're a naughty bitch, and naughty bitches don't deserve nice and slow." He withdraws his finger and quickly replaces it with his dick.

You cry out at the intrusion. He was big and, not to mention, thick. His thrust hurt, but he didn't give you time to recover. No, he immediately starts fucking into you. Tears fill your eyes, the mix of pleasure and pain feeling too intense, too overwhelming.

"This is what you deserve—to be fucked however I like." He emphasizes the "I" in his sentence. He's the one in control here, and right now, he controls you and your pleasure.

He grips your waist forcefully as he snaps his hips into you, the sounds of skin slapping and squelching filling the room. His grip is so tight it's bound to leave a bruise, and you whimper at the thought.

He wraps his hand around your neck, pulling you close against his chest. "Are you enjoying this?" he whispers into your ear. "Being taken without remorse?" You try to nod in response, but all you can focus on is how he stretches you so perfectly with his cock.

He chuckles softly into your ear, and you groan at the sound, instinctively rolling your hips onto his dick. He spanks you again. "No moving, toy."

Those words excite you. Right now, he sees you as nothing but a plaything to satisfy his desires, and you love it. You crave his dominance, wanting him to use your body however he pleases, whenever he desires.

Yeonjun's thrusts quicken and deepen, his head falling onto your back. "Fuck, I'm close," he mutters.

His grip on your waist tightens, fingers digging into your flesh, marking you as his. Each thrust grows more powerful. His hand moves from your neck to your clit, rubbing circles that send jolts of pleasure through your body, causing you to tighten around his cock. "Good girl," he growls.

A deep groan escapes his lips as he tips over the edge, biting into your neck, almost drawing blood as he cums, filling you with his thick substance.

He withdraws from you, his seed spilling down your legs. He takes out his phone, snaps a picture of the sight, and comments, "Nice."

"Stay still. I'll get something to clean you up," he says, exiting the room briefly before returning with warm, wet paper towels. He cleans your legs and pussy, planting kisses in the area. "There you go," he says, finishing up and pulling your skirt back over your ass. As you reach for your tights and panties, he stops you.

"You're going out like that. Put your shoes back on." You comply silently. "Well, that concludes your interview. I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow, Y/N." He winks as you leave his office. He pockets your garments for later and sits back in his chair, satisfied.

[unregisteredskybox]

[@ysines becuz u asked :D] im gonna preface this rant by saying i think side order was GREAT!!!! i love roguelikes i love splatoon this was a dlc MADE for me,

that being said! the lore was obviously, unfortunately, not the focal point of the dlc, especially the final boss being [spoilers!] another sentient ai. i love the little guy, but tartar [my wife] did it better. so UNDER THE CUT will be a long rant as to what i would make for the final boss of the DLC, along with some art I made for it!!! Oh, and that final boss?

Order, a sentient collection of Eight's memories that deems ITSELF to be the real copy

alright, now that i have your attention, let me go into depth as to how this all began, side order spoilers obviously:

Marina created the Memverse to help all the octolings from the metro of course, but more specifically, her friend Eight. The entire memverse was based on their memories, using them as the "blueprint" for all memcake related technology, since theirs were fully intact. Not only that, but since Eight was not only unsanitized, in a right state of mind, and an incredibly capable fighter, they were the perfect basis for those CLIMBING the tower. if the memverse is brain surgery, than Eight's brain was the example used. makes sense? This is where thing's get weird, however. Eight's memories are embeded within the memverse itself, interconnected with all aspects of it. Functionally speaking, a part of their SOUL was in the memverse, a soul with lots of desires, dreams, and determination. They fought through kamabo co. after all, their soul wouldn't be so easily tamed. Marina allotted too much control over to Eight's memories, so as soon as the memverse was online, they were alive. Alive...

And alone.

The memverse was just booting up, and considering how big it was, it would likely take hours, maybe even days. Days that Not-Eight would have to spend wandering an unfished world alone, devoid of any meaningful colour. It was designed to be monochrome as it was easier to retain memories when climbing the spire, without significant colour to distract the climber. Worst part was, this individual was eight's memories BEFORE octo expansion, so the last thing they remember is falling after fighting agent 3, waking up here. Through time, other memories would spark creation within the world, from the sanitized octolings who helped on the project, but it was still a long and lonely time for Not-Eight. However, as I said, they're the blueprint for this world, and was interconnected with it, so they had a form of control. It wasn't a conscious decision, but rather, the unbearable feeling of loneliness caused the simulation to pull people IN, hoping to satiate the desire for connection the god of this world demanded. And, with our Eight also being integral to the memverse, the system decided the perfect fit would be to bring in their best bud Agent 4! ...Who Not-Eight didn't know because they've never met.

But, after a quick explanation, Four, smart as they are, picks up on the situation: something went wrong in the Memverse, and Eight only remembers her previous memories, and not her current ones. Alright, they've got it completely wrong, but it's the logical conclusion. The two do find solace in each other, however, as they wander the Memverse searching for...anything really. As this happens though, something starts to happen to Not-Eight. This entire time, they've felt like something was missing. Like when you wake up from a dream, and feel like you can remember it exactly, yet it immediately fades away. That, but constantly. They assume Four's story is correct, since it would explain the feeling, but it doesn't offer them any comfort. There's also Not-Eight's emotional state, since they've been wandering the memverse for days now, and Four's only done it for maybe a few hours. It's taken a toll on their mind, and by proxy, the Memverse itself. Remember, it's connected to them, their loneliness was why Four was here in the first place. As such, with their desire to be fulfilled, to remember something, the Memverse starts to overwork itself; it brings the spire into existence, the Jelletons, all of the challenges, much faster than it should, all for its God that doesn't even know it's a god in the first place. With this speed comes mistakes, or in computer terms, glitches. Just as Not-Eight's mental state effects the memverse, the memverse's stability effects Not-Eight. They start to, if only gradually, undergo a process known as Bleaching; when a Soul and Body are separated into two individual beings, the soul in the memverse, and the body outside of it. [This replaces greyscaling.] But, Not-Eight doesn't have a body, just a simulated one to house their soul. That means, while attempting to climb the spire with four, they start to deteriorate. Pieces of them glitch away, corals grow and cover their face, and features just disappear. It's an incredibly painful process, one that Four doesn't really understand, so they try to solve it in the only way they know how: getting to the top. It's hard, especially considering they have to carry Not-Eight up there, and have no colour chips [Only weapons they summoned the same way Pearl did], but they make it to the control room. Pulling up a monitor, they scroll to a section covering the Admins of the spire. Marina, Pearl, Four themselves, and...two instances of Eight. One of them is glitching out, so that's the one Four goes for, not bothering to question why there were two. They click the button to reset the palette, but...that was probably the worst thing they could've done. In an instant, Not-Eight's mind was flooded with the code of the entire memverse, it's innerworkings, what it was currently processing, and their identity. They knew within an instant that they were just MEMORIES, a shadow of another person. Yet, they also knew how much power they had over the world. Without another word, they immediately Bleached Four, creating the Parallel Canon boss and Order Defense Force. They knew that the "real" Eight would come for them, to subsume them, to replace them, so they would need defenses. Though they acted like a tough general on the outside, in reality, Order was horrified. They were, mentally, a fourteen-year old child who failed to escape to the surface and instead fell into what was practically Hell. A cold, barren landscape with no colour or emotions, a place where they would die by being assimilated into another person. The mask placed on the Parallel Canon boss wasn't something to control them, as they already had that power. Rather, it was to make other beings look more like themselves after they began to decompose. This, is Order, the commander of the spire:

The red bits on their body are pieces they can no longer use due to the Bleaching, which is basically trying to separate their soul in two, considering they don't have a body. All facial recognition they once had has been wiped clean, and they're more coral than octoling at this point. Now is when Eight and the rest of the gang enter the memverse, but how Order presents themself is different. They're still a dignified smoke cloud, as they were after Marina, but they harbor an irrational sense of hatred towards Eight, one that isn't cold or orderly. Boss fights are now, as many people have suggested, Eight fighting the person the palette belongs to. Inky clones of Marie or Big man, who dissipate into a cloud of smoke once you defeat them, with Order taunting/insulting Eight after the fact. However, palette orders are slightly changed, as the last one you get before Eights is Four's. Now, the Parallel Canon boss up to this point would've been the hairless clones specifically, because Order is saving Four for last. Once Eight reaches the top, Order does another monologue, and brings out Four in hopes that Eight's emotional attachment to them would make them give up. [It does not, as Eight is INCREDIBLY used to fighting their brainwashed friends.] Once Four is defeated, they're freed from the Bleaching/mind control, and exposes Order's identity in their fit of rage. Now, Order did genuinely like Four, so seeing them express such hatred for them puts them in a really terrible mood, especially considering Eight is one step closer to replacing them.

at this point, Order freaks out, and Eight probably would as well, considering that they look exactly like each other [Though Order's freakout is more anger and Eight's is more confusion.] Order's one goal now is to kill Eight and replace them before they can do the same. It probably has some sort of AM I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream esque monologue [can you see the inspiration? i love it so much] and deems itself to be the one true "eight." After escaping the tower, with a bit of exposition from both Four and Marina, the entire group basically figures out what's going on. Their respective reactions, however, are a little different, mainly between Eight and everyone else. Most of the group feels sympathetic for Order, as they're a 14 year old who's only known loneliness, the fake sunlight, and is currently at risk of being replaced as a person. Eight, however, has NO sympathy for Order whatsoever, an opinion they would definitely voice. They toiled and troubled through Kamabo Co and the spire just to get their memories back, but now their friends are arguing that they shouldn't? That they should remain without memories just to keep a fake person alive? I've been writing this with more of a story perspective than a gameplay one, so this would probably cause some divide in the group. How the Memverse works to me is after freeing Marina, all of them could come and go from the simulation as they please, like a normal VR. And, because I loooove angst, I could see Eight sneaking into the simulation when everyone else is gone and fighting Order themselves, since no one agrees with them.

Here's where I split the timeline a little, because honestly? I don't know how this should end! I could see two options, option 1. With plenty of time and convincing, they learn to coexist, Order eventually becoming like a little sister to Eight and the two of them living in harmony, completing each other. Option 2? One of them kills the other, permanently, and basically absorbs their mind, memories and bodies, just fitting with the personality of whoever won. IDK!!! I could draw smth for both maybe? Or if you, the lovely reader have any ideas???

And if you have any questions about this (or the aforementioned ideas) don't be afraid to drop an ask!!!!!!!! ooough that was long. thanks for reading : D

[loveistrueblue]

I actually really love working with the littles but like you said the administrative side is what's the issue with me lol. One of my coworkers is a bitter mean old lady who just says shit Abt the kids and the parents when they're not in earshot that I'm like. Be glad I'm working bc if you said that to me and I wasn't being paid I would've lost my mind. And then my boss is so passive aggressive so often lmfao. I'm getting paid 14 an hour for 6 hours a day and it's bad ! But I'm moving soon to New York so that's a silver lining ig, things will be a lot easier there for a slew of reasons but I'm still sad to leave, these kids have become everything to me and I know it's going to suck to leave em, especially since I don't trust the people they'll send as far as I can throw them but. I can't stay for this wage lol.

I'm sorry prek wasn't for you, surprisingly enough the last school I was at I loved my prek kids the most, a few of em moved to this school after prek and I see em everyday now haha. I gtg for work tho lol talk later !

The place I worked was a revolving door of employees getting hired on and then leaving within a month. Administrator was a nasty person who was passive aggressive, constantly shutting down any valid concerns or complaints, constantly putting us either at maximum ratio by ourselves or over ratio. She would change your schedule Sunday night at 8:00 PM without telling you and be irritated that you’d get upset about it. I was making 15.45 for 9 hr days M-F. She randomly cut my hours to 12-3 one week without telling me and told me those would be permanent. Right after I’d finally secured an apartment. She had no problem humiliating you in front of staff or the kids. She would schedule me until 5, then she’d leave early in the day and make it so if I left when I was scheduled off, I’d be leaving other staff over ratio, and throw a fit if I said I wasn’t going to stay over and punish me through scheduling or what room she’d place me. My last month there was fucking horrendous and I have genuinely never been treated as horribly by a job in my entire life as I was the month leading up to me quitting (which is such an insane story I don’t even know how to start it like fr, I haven’t been able to talk about it since I left and I’m trying to make peace with the fact that chapter of my life is hopefully over and I don’t need to ruminate on it all the time). I quit without a notice or anything, which is something I’ve never done in my entire life besides that. I cannot overstate how awful it was. I don’t pray anymore, but when it comes to her, I truly do pray I never encounter that woman or have to interact with her ever again in my life. She ruined me for a little bit, but I am getting better. It was a long long long year this year. I just feel blessed to be in a better place now, and I cling to it very tightly. This year has just been insane. 😭😭😭

That’s amazing you’re getting to move to New York—that’s so cool! I get wanting to stay for the kids, but sometimes you literally just can’t. You have to live too.

I hope you have a good day, Fe!!! 💙

[beldcm]

Charlotte's words made sense. Tatum had seen it firsthand while working for the brunette. Lies were so easily spread about the actress; rumours came out of nowhere, and people simply filled in the gaps when it came to parts of her life that weren't public. There was no escaping it. All Charlotte could do was ignore it and simply carry on with her life. Tatum figured that that was easier said than done—it always was. Before accepting the job offer, Tatum hadn't really taken much interest in Hollywood. The rich and famous wasn't a crowd they saw themselves mingling in. That, of course, changed quickly; they were essentially paid to do it. After seeing how Charlotte was treated, especially by her so-called fans, Tatum had a newfound respect for those in show business. 

"That's exactly what I'm doing," Tatum kept up the light-hearted banter. It was nice to see Charlotte relax. Tatum couldn't help but feel a sense of smugness; they hadn't seen Charlotte this calm and herself in a long time. There was no façade or false persona she needed to put on here. Tatum had seen the brunette at her worst, but God, was she captivating at her best. "Just next to all your appointments, I make sure to draw tiny little stick figures or short people accommodations that they will have to make. The best thing is, now that you know, it's not like you can reach to take the diary off of me." Most people wouldn't dare to tease their boss in this manner, and usually Tatum kept their comments tame. But there was something about this setting that changed the dynamic, at least for Tatum. Even though they weren't actually in a romantic relationship, somehow the pretending was starting to blur the professional lines.

"What?!" Tatum piped up in a playfully dramatic tone. "My services are great, thank you. In fact, they are the best, the talk of the town. I've never had any complaints about my services; you've just not experienced them properly." There had been an intentional, flirtatious hidden meaning behind their words. Now that they had been put out into the world, Tatum quickly hoped that Charlotte wouldn't catch on. Tatum shifted a little, arms awkwardly folding across their chest. They had allowed things to get a little too relaxed. At least Tatum could play it off as method acting; they wouldn't be acting like the assistant/boss if they were actually engaged.

"Of course you deserve it; everybody does." While Tatum wasn't a 'love at first sight' kind of person, they definitely believed in true love. There were people out there made for you; it was just, unfortunately, some went their entire lives without finding them. Tatum was picky. There was always something wrong with the person they dated, giving them the excuse to cut ties. There's no point in settling and being unhappy, they would say as friends would roll their eyes. Tatum figured that Charlotte had very different reasonings to be put off when it came to dating. "There's someone perfect out there for you, someone who can easily handle all the glitz and glamour of the rich and famous. Right now, that person is me, at least that's what we need people to believe." A part of Tatum felt a quick spark of both jealousy and protectiveness at the thought of Charlotte dating. Tatum immediately shut the lid on that thought, pushing it back to the dark depths of their brain to never see daylight again. 

"We can do that, but nothing flashy, not in this town. We can just host something small in the barn. All my family and friends will care about is if there's alcohol involved." The people in Tatum's life were simple with simple pleasures. Box wine and cheap beer were enough for them all to have a great night that went deep into the early hours. 

As Charlotte accepted the offer of drinks that evening, Tatum adjusted their posture, straightening their back. A genuine smile plastered over their face, "the difference is while this town isn't cute, you're not boring." There had been a compliment there that Tatum hoped Charlotte would catch on to. "You really don't want to know what I got up to as a teenager. We have to leave some things as a mystery in our relationship. Now, get ready because I'm taking you out." Tatum moved towards the closet, pulling out some clothes before they left the room. Leaving Charlotte alone to get ready in private.

After showering in the main bathroom and changing into a simple pair of pants and a casual shirt, Tatum was ready. Tatum headed downstairs, waiting for Charlotte so they could leave.

tatum's question took charlotte a little by surprise — no-one had asked her that before, how having her personal information out for the world to see was something she was use to. she shook her head, "not at all. i feel like people too easily build up this image and idea of me in their heads by what they read and what they see. i think they forget that i'm just a person too." it ran far deeper than just that but she didn't want to bore tatum with her personal insecurities and as easy as talking with them felt, this was still a professional working relationship. when she had set out to follow in the footsteps of her mother, fame was the last thing she had expected. it had all been quite the whirlwind for her and she was just along for the ride. at the end of the day, she loved what she did, interacting with audiences, discussing important topics and being able to be a positive influence on others.

with news of her engagement, came the news of her sexuality, something she'd kept hidden to anyone outside her inner circle but if she was to get married, even if for a visa, she didn't want to lie about that. as expected the reactions among older viewers had been mixed but at the same time, had never felt more supported by her community. she admired tatum for the way they handled being thrust into the spotlight and the tabloids knowing they were being spoken about. charlotte knew that there wasn't anyone more capable than tatum and they proved that over and over. playfully rolling her eyes, she laughed at them, "i knew it wasn't notes that you were writing down in your diary — it's filled with comments and jokes about my height but that's okay because i'm good at this game. you tall people don't scare me." in fact, it was quite the opposite and there was no denying that she hadn't taken notice of their height difference. there were a lot of things that charlie was starting to take notice of when it came to tatum but that was not something she was wanting to admit. the banter was fun and it was nice to be able to let herself enjoy conversing with her assistant the way she was.

"i'd be willing to negotiate if you were able to prove that your services are worth paying double for. i can't just be handing out that kind of money." charlotte did her best to keep a straight face before a dimpled smile broke out over her features as she looked over at them, "i was hoping to make a good impression, i don't know if avoiding eye contact will help me accomplish that." even though she was teasing, there was truth in her words. of course she wanted to make an impression on the woman, it was just who she was naturally and this unique situation didn't change that.

"it sounds like maybe you are the one that needed security." tatum's words about dating resonated so deeply with charlie, knowing all too well how much easier it was just not to date. to instead focus on her career. it had been hard for her to trust people's intentions, work out whether or not they were genuinely interested in who she was and not just who she was to the nation. "i agree, it is easier, it's so hard to find genuine people who want to put in the effort. i know my situation isn't exactly ideal for people but that doesn't mean i don't deserve to find happiness." charlotte's words had trailed off by the end of what she had to say, shrugging, her body becoming noticeably softer speaking of love. she was a hopeless romantic at heart, a part of her that she protected from the disappointment of being let down which felt like a shame knowing how much love she had to give someone.

at the mention of tatum's friends, charlotte perked up, a smile growing on her lips once more, "we could always throw an engagement celebration, they would be more than welcome to come along, i'd love to meet them, hear all of your embarrassing stories seeing as i can't look at your mother in the eye." buying her own engagement ring felt so wrong, an unnecessarily weight on her finger. she made sure that it was nothing like what she would actually want but big enough to seem believable, to be noticed by paps. she toyed with the ring as she listened to tatum's suggestion to go out causing her to smile as it hadn't been a suggestion she'd expected, an opportunity to let her hair down and maybe genuinely enjoy herself. "i'd really like that, tatum. small and boring can be cute, i mean look at me," she teased playfully, "i'm sure you had your fair share of fun here as a teenager and i'm sure we can find our own."

[iraprince]

hi idk if this is a weird question but like. how do u Make Art with adhd? you mentioned in your comic that you struggled w various other creative hobbies, but like drawing feels to me always like the Big Bad Thing I Cannot Ever do. even tho i want to make it my career LOL

how'd you get past that?

not a weird question at all! this is actually a question i ask myself pretty much every day, bc generally my answer to "how do i make art with adhd" has always been: With Great Difficulty, lmfao.

it's hard! i am not always good at it! i made art my job bc i realistically couldn't imagine being truly happy with anything else; if that wasn't the case, i'm not sure i would be doing this. like, that ends up being a big divide between the hobbies mentioned in that comic vs art, which is something that it seems (according to viewing my online activity) i do "Consistently;" it is my career, so there's a level of like, urgency and necessity there that my hobbies don't have. which, like, obviously my advice is not "make it your job so that you HAVE to OR ELSE :)" because it doesn't work like that. i am spending an amount of time OR-ELSE-ing that i think might surprise ppl, and i am frankly very lucky that my wife is the primary provider for our family, because it gives me a safety net for when my brain makes a loud grinding noise and then belches a big cloud of smoke and i have to spend a week hitting it with a wrench.

ANYWAY. this is going to get long bc i have a lot of thoughts abt it. there's really no one answer to getting past it, and i am not "past it," i don't know if i think anyone ever can be! we can just try really hard to keep going in ways that won't burn us out. if i had to pull out the absolute #1 most important thing i've learned over the past few years, it is -- and i know this sounds like dumb corny bullshit but you really have to stay with me here -- being kind and patient with yourself.

i'm being so dead serious. if beating yourself up and freaking out and constantly agonizing over how much more you Could be drawing worked, you would be drawing right now. if beating ourselves up over our output worked, EVERYONE would be drawing ALL the time. it doesn't fucking work! it does not! do literally anything other than yelling at yourself. it's bullshit. it's fuckery. it does not work.

on the other hand, cultivating as much kindness and patience and compassion as i can muster -- saying, "well, it looks like i just don't have it today. that's okay, let's try again tomorrow," even if i'm saying it through clenched teeth and i don't really believe it -- THAT works, because it chips away at the idea of drawing being life or death. it's probably a very similar feeling to you describing art as The Big Bad Thing. of course if you hang all your self worth on it and let it become immense and dominating, it's going to be hard to interact with it! it's scary! it becomes easier to avoid it than to try to tackle it and then feel disappointed in yourself in a more active way (vs. just disappointed in yet another day where u didn't try). but every time i sigh and say "okay" when my brain is screaming and crying bc art just is not working, and i decide to rest and try again tomorrow, 1. it is easier to do a little bit of work the next day when i'm rested than it is to do ANY work when i chain myself to my desk for 9 hours and demand results, and 2. i learn that it is not the end of the world. it just isn't. and so art gets smaller, and less frightening, and it can just be my job (something i have to wrangle my adhd around just like anything else, like grocery shopping and keeping the house clean and keeping up with my friends) instead of some huge destructive boss battle with my identity hanging in the balance.

sometimes you have to talk to yourself like a little kid. if a little kid came to you upset and was like "i wanna draw but i just can't. i don't know why." you would (hopefully) not be like, "whatever, i guess you're just not cut out for it then!" or whatever other mean shit we say to ourselves when we can't draw. you would be like, "well, okay. do you want me to sit with you? how do we start? where's some stuff we can draw with? hm, i can't really think of what to draw either. did you see anything pretty or cool today? let's just draw some shapes." etc etc. and if the kid got frustrated and it still wasn't working you'd be like, you know what, that was a good try. let's have some lunch and try again later. and you deserve that same level of patience, and that level of CURIOUS problem-solving ("what can we try? what might be easier?") instead of, like, adversarial/blame-assigning problem solving ("what the fuck is the matter with you? why can't you just do it?")

also, shaking things up!! one of the most frustrating things abt adhd for me is i'll find a new strategy that Works, but it only works for like, two weeks or whatever, and then it stops working and i have to do something else. i have had a way better time just accepting that that's how things work vs thinking of these cycles as "failures."

if i start dreading working at my desk, i throw a block of printer paper onto a clip board and work on the couch for a few weeks. when that stops working, i get back on drawpile and do all my warmup sketches on an interactive canvas, with strangers around me (virtual coffeeshop lol?). when i get tired of that, then maybe i'm ready to be alone with clip studio again. nope, still not working? okay, let's stream while i'm working for a while then. let's start drawing differently. let's change the background color i draw on. just, like, i keep shaking things up to see if maybe i can trick my brain into feeling like we're doing something totally new for a while, and a lot of the times it works, and when it does not work i am not an asshole to myself, which is, as i keep reiterating, super vital.

when i make the most art is when i get super excited about something and i let myself go apeshit. (there's a reason my guild wars 2 stuff is corralled on a sideblog lmao.) when commissions start grinding to a halt for me, a lot of times it's bc i've let them become Tasks on a to-do list instead of remembering that each piece is a DRAWING; it can help for me to sit down and go through each piece in my queue and really look at it, and remind myself that these are DRAWINGS and i LOVE drawing, and to point out to myself stuff in the wip that i like, and stuff i'm excited to draw the next time i work on it. it's very easy to flatten stuff into just An Obligation if you stress too much about it, but it's very helpful to slow down and step back and remind yourself WHY you care that much. it's not just bc you have to.

i don't really want this to get much longer than it already is, especially when i don't really have concrete tips so much as rambling opinions and examples of stuff that Kind Of works for me Sometimes. i think the tldr is: relax, be nice, keep it fresh. i hope at least some of this is helpful!

[urlkssknt]

last piece (1)

pairing - nanami kento x fem!gojou!reader x fushiguro toji

genre - parent!au, slice of life!au, 4.5k

a/n - ahhhhh my first ever series fic!!! i’d really appreciate any feedback given! megumi, yuuji, and sukuna are all children in this

warnings - mentions of food, toji is a shit person (pls dont hate me), mentions of cheating

now playing - goodnight n go, ariana grande

After enduring a rough day of your boss piling all his work onto you, you basked in the soft touch of the small hand of your little toddler, as you both walked down the hallway to get to your apartment. It was the first day of full-time school, meaning you got more day-light hours to spend by yourself at a desk in an uncomfortable chair. Earlier when you had dropped your son off for school you couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of him turning into his classroom, out of your view. Your little boy was growing up so quickly, it felt like it was just yesterday when the dark eyed boy crawled all over the floor and drooled over your favourite shirts. Megumi forbids himself from talking with you as a form of punishment, opting to give you the silent treatment. His lips were pursed into a big pout from the moment you had picked him up. In the corner of your eye, you noticed the door of the apartment across the hall from you was propped open by two large boxes stacked atop each other. There were other boxes laying around, some big and some small. Gently, Megumi tugged on your hand to gain your attention before pointing towards the door.

"See, a person," there was a slight anxious edge to the young boy's tone. Megumi couldn't socialise well with new people, something you hope would dissipate as he got older. You knew the effects of children appearing as 'anti-social,' and it didn't help that the mothers of the school Megumi attends were already whispering to each other about your previous failed marriage. It was only the first day and your marital status already defined you. You prayed that it wouldn’t negatively affect how the other kids would treat Megumi, from your experience, parent’s are quick to dictate your life. The younger you are, the easier it is.

Silently, Megumi hoped that the new neighbour wasn't loud, the young boy hated loud noises, it caused him to feel uneasy. Unfortunately, his wishes were cut short when two heads of strawberry pink hair came running from behind, one giggling his head off whilst the other had a scowl on his face. They both looked exactly like each other, you assumed they were twins. Following behind them was a grown man, looking disheveled from carrying the heavy weight of the cardboard box between his arms.

"You two!" The man spoke in an assertive tone from the other end of the hallway, stilling for a moment to catch his breath, moving was much more difficult than he thought. One of the two boys halted in his tracks, "no running!"

Both you and Megumi caught the attention of the identical twins and the unknown man. You felt brazen for taking a quick look at the blond man, who looked effortlessly handsome despite being dressed in a plain t-shirt and a pair of athletic joggers. A pink blush began to dust along your cheeks as the stranger's chocolate eyes made contact with yours, catching your ogling azure eyes. The crystal blue colour of them caught the stranger off guard, it made him feel as if he was looking at a certain annoying man-child he knew. The stoic man offered you a small tight-lipped smile after he set the box in his hands on the floor.

"Nanami Kento," he wiped his palm against his joggers before holding it in front of you, "I just moved in." The palm of his hand was warm to the touch, the physical contact only deepening the colour of your cheeks.

You quickly replied with your name, intentionally leaving out your surname, before squeezing the small hand you held, the toddler had shuffled to hide behind your legs at the sound of rushed frantic footsteps, "baby, introduce yourself."

Megumi was relentless in speaking, eyes automatically trained to stay on the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. His grip on your hand increased as an uneasy feeling pressed against his small chest, the same emotion that the little boy experienced in the morning and had no idea on how to describe it.

"Sorry, 'gumi is a little shy," you offered Kento a sympathetic smile as you ran a hand over Megumi’s hair, the comforting action bringing the toddler a sense of ease. The blond man noticed the look of worry flashing on your face before giving him a smile. "We live across the hall."

Just before Nanami was going to comment, one of his own kids being just as reserved, he felt a harsh push against his legs, surprisingly almost making him topple over. Peering down, the tall man found that it was his most energetic son, Yuuji. Nanami quickly scooped the little boy into his arms before doing the same to the other boy, who stayed quiet the whole time. The sound of the previous melodic giggles returned. "These are my two boys."

"Hello, my name is Yuuji! I'm nearly five!" The smiley boy held up a hand with all his fingers extended, feeling proud that he was able to speak with confidence.

"I'm Sukuna." Despite the small voice, you couldn’t help but gush over the deep dimples near the boy’s eyes, you just wanted to poke the skin.

"You two are so cute!" you cooed at the twins, Yuuji giggled as you tickled his cheek gently, "you're both as old as 'gumi." Megumi peered past his hiding spot behind your legs at the mention of his name.

Yuuji clapped his hands at the thought of having a friend that lived so close! His enthusiasm made Megumi feel a little more comfortable, the grip on your hand loosening. Even at school, there was no one as welcoming as the smiling pink haired boy, Megumi had never witnessed another person be excited to hear his name apart from you and his uncle.

Keys in hand, you turned to open the door of your apartment. As you both entered your home, Megumi turned around to give the new neighbours a small wave, still feeling very shy, before running off to his room. You let out a small laugh at your son's antics, watching his small figure disappear around the door.

"If you boys ever want to play, just knock on the door!" You gave a final smile to the pair of boys who’s eyes widened in excitement at the thought of playing with someone that wasn’t their dad. Shifting your gaze to the brooding blond, taking a moment to savour his attractiveness once more, you felt jealous of the woman who was able to wake up to those high cheekbones. "or if you need anything."

The next time you saw your new neighbours was when you were standing in front of Megumi's school. The two of you had arrived a little early, the door of his classroom wasn’t open yet to allow the students to filter in. Megumi was about to complain, it was too early, the uniform felt horrible and itchy against his skin, however his whines were halted when he heard the sound of his name being yelled, immediately catching his attention.

A familiar pink-haired boy came running over with a bright smile plastered against his face, his backpack being far too large for a primary school student and for a toddler, the dimples by his eyes deepening. “Hi!” Yuuji couldn’t keep himself still when his eyes noticed you and Megumi, he ignored his father’s words of ‘staying close’ and holding his hand.

Truthfully, you couldn’t identify a difference between the twins yet, they both looked like carbon copies of each other, if they were your children you definitely would get their names wrong constantly.

Nanami let’s out a sigh of relief as Yuuji returns to his view again, the man swore to himself that his youngest son by three seconds would be the death of him. His eyes naturally fall onto your figure, there was a genuine smile on your face as his son began talking about what he ate for breakfast, running your ear off on how Kento nearly burnt the toast.

“Good morning,” Nanami says as he approaches you with Sakuna following behind. You turn to look at him, the same smile still on your lips, never faltering once as if it were permanently glued to your face, Nanami wondered if your cheeks were aching from the stretch.

Before you could even return his greeting, the door of the classroom opened. The moment you dreaded most, having your precious Megumi leave for the majority of the day. However, you had an obligation to pay the rent and feed your child so you told yourself to suck it up. You crouch down to the floor, sharp eyes giving your son a once-over to make sure his uniform was in top shape, "Have a good day, 'gumi!" The dark haired boy walked into his class only after kissing your cheek softly and waving you goodbye.

"If it's okay with you," Nanami spoke with such a soothing tone, it captivated your whole attention, you wondered if his twins enjoyed being read bedtime stories. If he uploaded podcasts, you would definitely be a fan. "I'd like to exchange numbers," the tall man turned to face you with his phone in hand and caught you off guard. Any sane woman would feel privileged to have a handsome man offer his number, you would have blushed if it wasn’t for the blond man quickly adding that it was for emergencies. Internally, you began to scowl at yourself for thinking that your new neighbour had other intentions, you weren’t even sure if he was in a committed relationship!

In the process of handing Nanami your number, your eyes dropped from his face to his hands for a couple of seconds, just out of curiosity, you repeat to yourself, definitely not because of a small crush developing on the blond haired man. The ring finger was left bare of any jewellery to indicate his marital status. Guilt coarsed through you as another smile, smaller than your previous ones, spread across your face. This poor man just wanted to be a nice neighbour and here you were acting like a schoolgirl, over analyzing every look he gave you with his deep chocolate eyes.

Nanami bid you a farewell, heading off in the opposite direction to fetch his car so he could drive to work, the only con of his new home was how far it was from the office he worked in. Part of him felt proud for attaining your number, he was afraid you’d reject his suggestion, either misunderstanding his simple actions or being disinterested from Nanami’s stiff nature. Constantly, the twins would tell him to ‘lighten up,’ but it was hard to keep positive when your boss acts more like a child than an adult. Never admitting it, the man had noticed your beauty from the second his dark eyes landed on you, as cheesy as it was, you held a certain elegance and the shade of your eyes dazzled at him as if it were a precious diamond shining its reflection. There’s no harm in finding a neighbour attractive, is there?

nanami kento: Hello this is Nanami, I’m so sorry but i have to travel out of town for a business meeting, my boss just sprung it on me. Would it be okay if you picked the boys up from school and took them home?

you: no problem :)

you: hope your meeting goes well!

The two pink haired twins ended up walking home with you and Megumi. They were both slightly disappointed with their dad not coming to pick them up, a deep pout began to form on Yuuji’s lip as his bottom lip jutted out. You were more than familiar with that face, it was the same cute look Megumi gives you when you say ‘no’ to buying more soft plushies. If he brought out the puppy eyes, you would have surrendered and raised a white flag. Small children are your weakness, especially ones so cute and adorable, you cave into their desires almost instantly. Thankfully, becoming a mother allowed you to toughen your walls and set boundaries for yourself, no child has been able to pass them with a simple pout.

“How about we make cupcakes at my house?” You proposed, hoping it would entice the twins to not only brighten their mood but create a more comfortable environment for them. All three boys beamed up at you with big teeth-y grins and glittering eyes, each of them wanting some form of sugar, as expected from you.

The walk home was more entertaining than you would’ve thought. Megumi and Yuuji held hands, whilst Megumi’s other free hand was laced with your own. Sukuna held your hand quietly, not peeping a word and only answering your question about his day with a short nod. Yuuji, on the other hand, was more than willing to explain every little detail about his day, from when he sat next to Megumi on the carpet during the register to being awarded a gold star for tidying up. Luckily, the street wasn’t busy as you walked with the boys whilst sporting three backpacks along with your own bag on your back. It was definitely a show stopping look, which earned lingering gazes from random people.

Having the twins over was a lot better than expected. The worry you felt over Sukuna not conversing with you was all futile. As soon as the small group of boys had their shoes off, they zoomed after Megumi, heading to his bedroom to play with the toys he was talking to them about. For the first time, Megumi finally had other people to play with that weren’t yourself or his extravagant uncle, as much as he loved you both, you and Satoru were rubbish superheroes and even worse at ludo, which ended up with the two of you bickering like you were the kids in the child’s room.

Laughter carried into the kitchen as you began to start preparing dinner, slightly worried about not having enough, usually you would be cooking for two people, whilst taking into consideration Megumi’s sudden pickiness over certain food. You settled on cooked salmon and roasted potatoes, sending a silent prayer hoping the group of boys would make your life easier and eat what you put on their plate. Once the preparations for dinner had been made, setting the fish to marinate off to the side, cutting the potatoes into appropriate sizes for four year old children so they can eat with ease, you called for the three toddlers to come into the kitchen and begin to make the cupcakes you promised. Small kids tend to have sticky fingers, something that grossed you out completely, you made sure they all washed their hands in the kitchen sink with soap, each boy taking turns to clean himself whilst using the stool to reach the high counter. After a million questions about what you were doing and why you were doing it, the batter in the bowl finally finished, filling every patterned paper case in the tray, even though most of the cake mixture actually ended up on the black metal try from Megumi not moving the filled spoon quick enough, he was very confident in his scooping-the-batter skills. You partly blamed yourself for entrusting such a messy job to a four year old who could barely colour in the lines. Surprisingly, none of the boys ended up with a spec of mess on them, just you, a smear of flour across your flour, the image made Sukuna giggle lightly as he pointed to the white powder.

When the orange and pink hues of the sun darkened to a deep blue enveloping the sky, allowing the stars of the night a chance to shine and twinkle like diamonds. The cheerful laughter died out long ago, three sleepy boys sat along the couch, Megumi resting his head in your lap as an animated movie played on the tv screen. A knock sounding against your door instantly woke you from your hazy trance.

Sukuna followed your footsteps, lazily trailing behind you. You identified the small boy from the length of his which was shorter than Yuuji’s, his pink strands didn’t stand up in the same manner as his younger brother. The boy had a hunch that the person behind the door would be his father. Unlike Yuuji, Sukuna only had one dimple resting near his eye on the left side of his small face and not both. “Daddy!” The little boy was picked up by his father so easily as if he didn’t weigh a thing once the door was opened to reveal the blond man standing on the other side. A giggle left his mouth as Nanami couldn’t help but kiss the soft skin of his cheek, causing you to melt at the sight. Men giving their children affection was such a sweet sight, you wished your ex-husband would embrace his own son in such a loving manner, you were lucky if he gave Megumi an ounce of attention.

“Bye bye,” your hand is brought to your chest as you were startled at Yuuji’s sudden presence next to you, shocking all your senses for a few seconds even though he spoke softly, he must have followed his brother from the sofa at the sound of the door opening. Yuuji’s mouth extends to let out a long yawn, anyone could tell he was exhausted from the droopiness in his warm eyes.

Nanami gives you a tight lipped smile as he offers you a thanks in a low voice, he sounded tired. Working past office hours was always a pain for the man, especially now with his children. Sometimes Kento had the strongest urges to just punch his boss. Before he could leave and put his two sleepy boys to bed, you stop him urgently, the sleep in your body evaporates as you quickly run to the kitchen and pick up the two containers you had left on the counter. One plastic box contained the decorated cupcakes that the twins had made earlier, saving a few for their dad too, whilst you packed the other with the leftovers of the dinner you served. You figured that the businessman probably hadn’t eaten yet because of the meeting so you took the liberty of providing him some food. Along with the filled containers, you handed over the twin’s school bags and Sukuna’s shoes, before Nanami knew it his hands were completely filled so he was left balancing most things in one arm as his other was wrapped securely around Sukuna.

“Goodnight boys,” you gave the soft tuffs of Yuuji’s messy hair a quick kiss before watching them turn to enter their home and turn in for the night. Deciding it was also time for bed, you gently lifted Megumi up from his sleeping position on the sofa, being extremely careful to not wake the four year old up. Nothing is worse than a fussy Megumi and he was definitely more than fussy whenever you woke him from his slumber. Light snores escape his mouth making you giggle and pull him closer into your embrace as if it were possible. Tonight, you’d allow him to sleep in your bed and cuddle all night long.

The next morning, as you were leaving your apartment, at a later time than the previous morning so you didn’t arrive at school so early, Nanami was ushering his twins out the door with their matching backpacks slung on his arm like a purse. The sight almost forced a laugh out of you.

“Hi!” Megumi waves to his new friends before they start to walk off in the direction of the elevator, leaving you and the blond man to follow behind. Slightly, you were surprised at your son greeting the twins first, he always waited for the other party to acknowledge him first. You took this as a sign of a blossoming friendship which you hope would last for a long time.

Before Kento could say anything to you, feeling a little embarrassed of his unfortunate state, he was so tired from the night before the sound of his blaming alarm nearly didn’t wake him up, Yuuji beat him to it. The adorable boy called for you from the end of the hallway, telling the two of you ‘slow pokes,’ to hurry it up. Loud clacks of your heels sounded as you traveled to the waiting group of boys, Nanami was left with the bags to stare at your fleeting figure. The apples of his cheeks burn red at the realisation of the actions of his eyes trailing over the exposed skin of your legs before stopping on the meat of your thighs, it had only been a couple days since he first met you but each time his gaze had the opportunity to fall upon you, Kento found a new feature to appreciate. God, did he think about running his thick fingers over the expanse of the plush skin and grip into it like he was kneading bread.

“Daddy hurry up!” Yuuji’s voice carried through to his ears, snapping the adult out of his trance. Nanami began to make his way into the elevator, muttering a small apology as he tried his hardest to not make eye contact with your azure eyes, otherwise the blond would go into a cardiac arrest.

The whole walk to the school, Nanami stayed silent, too ashamed of the thoughts that consumed his mind in, what he’d call, a moment of weakness. Nanami wouldn’t class himself as a gentleman but he behaved a lot nicer and was more reserved compared to a certain white haired man he knew. Before Nanami knew it, the gates of the school came into view, he swore that he had only taken a few step from the apartment complex, was he out of his mind?

“I hope your husband didn’t mind the boys joining you for dinner yesterday,” Nanami was aware that you were also not married but he needed to hear it for himself, prove to himself that his small attraction to you was stupid, and to also confirm your relationship status.

A laugh escapes your lips, “I’m divorced.”

You turn your head to face Kento, offering the still man a reassuring smile in order to help him relax, you swear it works when you visibly see the tension in Nanami’s broad shoulders released. “And single, so it was genuinely no problem.”

Nanami went to work feeling more cheery than usual.

Naturally, it became routine for the five of you to walk to and from school together every morning and afternoon. Sometimes you couldn’t help the warmth rising to your cheeks with every flattering compliment you receive from Nanami, he either commented on how cohesive your outfit was for the day or told you that your makeup was pretty. Recently, you couldn’t help the excitement bubble in your tummy as the clock would close to the end of your working hours not only to finally see your precious ‘gumi or hear Yuuji’s giggles as he runs after Sukuna, but to witness Nanami after a hard day of work. The top button if his suit would be undone whilst his tie is forgotten and tucked away safely into his leather briefcase; not to mention the few strands of hair that fall across his forehead which your fingers itch to run through.

“Megs said we can come,” Yuuji whines with a pouty lip, jutting out his lips as far possible to amp the ‘cuteness level’ so you wouldn’t reject him, for an added effect the little boy went as far clinging onto your hand that he held.

Being a mother made you extremely soft and light-hearted, especially to children as cute as Yuuji, a small tiny part of you wished Megumi would whine and cling to you like a koala. You could never say no to such an adorable face, and Yuuji knew it. A smile began to creep along his lips when you exhale lightly, giving into his wishes of coming to your home to play.

The words stopped on your tongue, no longer passing through your throat as a large lump formed at the sight before you. A certain man with hair akin to the colour of raven feathers, all dressed up in a designer suit to show off his new profound wealth. The only thing missing to complete his sleazy look was a stupid cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, almost identical to how he looked on the night you first met. Negative emotions coarsed through your body, everything was good until it wasn’t, and you could only blame your ex-husband for the anger rising in your body, almost clouding your judgement, thankfully it didn’t otherwise you would have ripped his head off in front of Megumi.

“Hey princess, what took you so long?” A sly smirk stays on his scarred lips as Toji pushes himself off the wall near your door. His eyes shifted from you to the two little identical boys who were holding your hand, the smirk slowly began to drop. Finally, Toji’s gaze became fixated on his son being held in the arms of another man. An awkward and unbearable silence enveloped the hallway. Toji only faltered for a moment, his signature cocky smirk quickly returning. In the pockets of his trousers, his hands balled into fists as an attempt to conceal his anger before he loses his cool. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

If you had the ability to kill a person, you’d murder your ex-husband a thousand times over. You harboured such a massive amount of hatred for him after the divorce; not only did he pursue a relationship with the women he cheated on you with but he barely saw Megumi. Toji was too busy with the company that you helped build, to even make plans to see his son. There was only one reason why you didn’t run away to some foreign country when you had the chance, you wanted your son to grow up with his father even though it wasn’t an ideal situation. Once upon a time, you dreamed of moments where Toji would be picking Megumi up from school and chasing after his short stubby legs. Toji was your everything, until your beautiful marriage was broken one day and you left with your newborn son, wailing in your arms as tears streamed down your face. But that was four years ago, an event that stays scarred on the surface of your heart, you assumed, to Toji it was just a blessing in disguise.

➳ next

[dameronology]

a matter of time (tasm! peter parker) - 4/5

four: til forever falls apart

summary: peter parker has barely gotten over losing you and getting dragged into another universe where you’re still alive and kicking isn’t about to help the case. thanks to an ultimatum from stephen strange, peter has just a matter of days to make you realise who he is and what you had, or he faces losing you all over again. he better get to work. (playlist + masterlist) - this uses she/her pronouns

warnings; mentions of loss/death, swearing, no way home spoilers,

has this been proof read? like fuck has this been proof read. also apologies for how long this took to write, i girl-bossed a bit too close to the sun with work and uni among other general life shit and i officially burnt out. hope you enjoy <3

- jazz xx

The last twenty-four hours didn’t feel real.

You couldn’t shake the feelings, now more than ever, as you were perched on top of the remains of the Statue of Liberty. There had been too many near misses and the fact your life had been one of them didn’t sit comfortably with Peter Parker. He hadn’t taken his arms off of you in the entire time since the fight had ended and now you were all just stood, catching your breath and getting your head around how fucking whack everything had been. You had one hand on his back and the other on his chest, leaning against his side for support. Nearly falling to your death sure had taken it outta you.

Peter One and Two were a little across the way from you; the latter had a knife wound in his abdomen, which you couldn’t imagine was all that comfortable.

"I should go talk to Strange," you quietly said. "And you should go help your brother."

"Yeah, you're right," Peter peered down at you, brown easy creased with a slight smile. "Don't do anything stupid, though. We need him on our side."

"What stupid thing would I do?"

"You've already tried to deck him," he reminded you.

"Oh yeah," you rolled your eyes. "That."

"Go," he gave you a light shove. "I'll see you in a minute."

Giving Peter one last smile, you gave his arm a light squeeze and headed down the scaffolding to where Strange was stood. He was trying to catch his breath, brow creased as he bent over. Messes like this were the reason he swore never to have children.

You could recognise his stress but damn. That didn't mean he hadn't hurt you - above being your colleague, he was your friend. A friend that had spent hours listening to you open up about how lost you sometimes felt; about how you felt like there was something missing from your being. And he'd known why this entire time. Some friend that was.

"Strange!" you called. "We need to talk."

"Not if you're going to attack me again-"

"- get the hell off your high horse," you cut him off. "How long have you known that I'm not from this universe?"

His gaze averted, before falling to the ground.

"Stephen," you urged. "I'm not mad, okay? I'm just...I'm hurt that you never told me. I care about you and I know you care about me too and all this shit will go away as soon as you tell me the truth."

"Fine," he swallowed. "It wasn't long after we met at that MIT lecture - there was something off about you. I searched public records for your birth certificate and social security. Nothing for your family. Then you started spouting all this wisdom about multiverses and it clicked in my head."

"That's a long time to know and not tell me," you murmured. "

"I know," he admitted. "I'm genuinely sorry. I didn't think you'd ever remember."

"I want to go back, Stephen," you replied. "I need to go back. My life isn't here."

"You've seen what opening the multiverse does," he half-snorted. "All of this is just the tip of the iceberg. Sending you back would be a disaster. It's a big ask-"

"- I wasn't asking," you took a step forward. "I am telling you now, Stephen Strange, that I am going back. I don't care if I have your support or not that but it's gonna be a hell of a lot easier if I do."

"Is that a threat?"

"Fuck yes it's a threat," you snapped. "I had everything ripped away from me and I finally have it back. I'm not gonna let middle aged man with a shit goatee-"

"- woah, woah, woah!" you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind. Peter, of course. "What happened to playing nice?"

"Fine," you muttered. "You deal with it then."

For Peter, handling your bloody-minded tendencies after five long years was like a breath of fresh air. He'd missed every part of you, including this one. You were never difficult, just...stubborn. And it was one of the things he loved most about you. No matter how hard things got, you always stood your ground, even against a fucking wizard. Especially against a fucking wizard.

You took a step back, dramatically ushering for Peter to take your place in the conversation. Man, it really was like no time had passed.

"Mr Strange," Peter began. "I can only assume that you've lost people you've love, right?"

"That's none of your business-"

"- you're right," he cut him off. "You're absolutely right but for the sake of my argument, I'm gonna have to over-step here, okay? I can't physically describe how it felt to lose that pain in the ass right over there so I'm just trying to appeal to your humanity and hope you can empathise with me."

"Go on."

"I've gone the last five years feeling like half a person," Peter continued. "Like I've got one leg and one arm and half a heart. I was beginning to forget what she looked like, and the sound of her laugh, and that voice and...you know what that's like, don't you? Beginning to forget the face of the person you love most in the world?"

"You're asking a lot of personal questions, Parker."

He gave Strange a lopsided smile. "I know - but imagine you could get the person you lost back. Imagine they were right there, and someone was trying to stop you."

Stephen faltered slightly at that.

The entire conversation was a perfect metaphor for the wider image of you and Peter. You'd gone in all guns blazing, stubborn and mighty and ready to fight. And he'd stopped you - without invalidating you - and tried a more grounded approach. Sometimes your way of things worked and other times, his was a little better. It was a nice balance.

Christine Palmer's face was the forefront of Strange's mind right then. He would have given up everything he had - the magic, his doctorate, his money - for a do-over with her. Hell, he'd give it all up for a chance to just apologise.

That was the stark difference between the two relationships: Peter had nothing inherently to apologise for. He'd never been arrogant or obsessed with himself; he'd never let your wellbeing slip his mind and you had always, always been his main priority.

Stephen swallowed, nodding slightly. "I might be able to send you back."

"Are you serious?" you grabbed Peter's arm, eyes widening.

"I said might," he reminded you. "You said you had most of your memories but if I'm going to send you back, you need all of the important ones."

"Which ones?" you asked.

"The fundamentals; where you lived, how you lived, how you died," he explained. "The latter is the most essential. Without it, history will just repeat itself, the same way it would have if we'd sent Osbourne and Octavius back to their world still damaged."

"Well that's not hard," you shrugged. "How did I die?"

Stephen's eyes flickered over to Peter. He knew. Of course he knew.

"Guys," you pushed. "How did I die?"

"You got your other memories back by triggering a familiar moment in your brain," Stephen explained. "That might be worth a try again."

Somehow, you got the feeling he was talking to Peter more than he was to you.

--

"Pete, why are we at some random rooftop?"

Peter was a few meters ahead of you, mask in his hand and feet dragging along the floor.

He was scared to be here again - in fact, he had never returned to the damn place since you'd fallen five years ago. He hadn't even gone back to this block. It held too many bad memories for him. Even with you right there beside him, alive and well, his heart was pounding in his chest, blood pumping loudly in his ears. It went on and on, never ending and constantly making him ache, the same way that vision of you falling had repeated in his mind in the months after your death.

But, if he wanted to keep you, Peter had to make you remember. As Strange had explained, even if they both told you how and when you died, history was doomed to repeat itself unless you had the memory. All this timekeeping shit was confusing.

"Peter!" you called after him.

"This is where you died," Peter spun around to face you.

Your brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"You have to try and remember," he grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to take a few steps towards the edge. "And god, I hope you don't hate me when you do."

"I could never hate you," you glanced up at him. "Hell, you could have pushed me off this damn thing and I wouldn't-"

- you froze.

The same cold feeling washed over you. It was like something hitting you in the chest - a punch, a knife, a bullet, maybe. You were tired of remembering now. Tired of collecting up pieces of your own fucking life in an attempt to map them back together.

The feeling of remembering your own death wasn't as heavy as your entire life coming back to you. It wasn't fun by any means but a singular memory, compared to over twenty years worth? You could handle that.

What was less easy to handle was Peter's face as you fell. He'd been just moments away from saving you, eyes already brimmed with tears and expression scrunched up as he realised it was too late. He'd reached out for you, tried to grab you, tried to save you. If he'd just been a few seconds later, things might have been different.

What weighed on you the most was the sudden realisation that he'd probably blamed himself for it over the last five years. That made your second fall earlier today even worst. What had been going through his head? What would he have done if he'd lost you the second time?

You turned back to face him, eyes brimmed with tears.

"Pete," your voice broke as you finally spoke. "Peter..."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he began. "I'd told you not to come that night and when you did, I thought I could handle fighting the guy off and protecting you-"

"- stop it!" you didn't mean to snap. "Just stop. I followed you up here, didn't I? I threw myself into the middle of the fight. I got in the way when he pushed me."

"I should have caught you," Peter swallowed, trying to fight back his own tears.

You snorted. "That's not your job!"

"I'm meant to protect you-"

"- my god, Pete," you placed your hands on either side of his face. "How much did you let this get to you over the last few years?"

"It's destroyed me," he admitted. "All of that stuff I said earlier about being half person...I meant it."

You pulled him towards you, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. In that moment, Peter felt the weight of the last five years melt away from him. Every second that he spent blaming himself; every night he spent crying himself to sleep. It was all gone. Just like that, in a singular moment. The nightmare he'd been living was finally over and it was like his head was finally above water. He'd learnt to swim amongst the waves of his grief but there was nothing like breaking to the surface.

"I love you," you pressed your forehead to his. "Nothing you could ever do or say will make me stop, Peter Parker."

"I love you too," he gave you a teary smile. "I'm sorry I didn't catch you."

"You did, remember?" you took his hands in yours and gave them a squeeze. "Just a few hours ago, you caught me. That's what I'm gonna remember, yeah? None of this bullshit."

"Yeah, okay," he nodded. "And I'm always gonna catch you."

"I don't fall that much-"

"- you are very clumsy-"

"- so are you!"

Peter laughed, shaking his head. "I mean it more than just the physical sense. I'm always gonna catch you."

You pressed another kiss to his lips. "Yeah, I know."

taglist: @disastersim @elinedjarin @whatawonderfulusername @edencherries @jedi-valkyrie @xuxialling @plutoneu @chaoticevilbakugo @ilymarkchan @itscheybaby @isasv @notalxx @oswin05 @aleksanderwh0r3 @equivocalshit @epiphany-of-a-madwoman @turningtoclown @svft-cas @an

[julemmaes]

Payback

Rowaelin Month, Day Five

A/N: Yall I'm dying. I didn't even wanna write today and I kinda forced myself to and I'm not proud of myself for this but I just wanted you to have something so yep. Tomorrow's will be a lot angstier and sadder than this one, so soak up the very light fluff I'm giving you till you can

Signing off, goodnight yall

Word count: 3,614

Aelin hated the underground car park reserved for the residents of her building. It was dark, so narrow that you had to do at least a hundred swerves to avoid taking any corner and scratching off half your car, and it was impossible to find a spot when everyone came home in the evening after hours and hours in the office and parked as they saw fit while still thinking about the thousands of pieces of paperwork that would be waiting for them at their desks only nine hours later, sometimes taking up more than two spots at once.

The only reason she still tried to park down there was that there was a flock of pigeons in the trees just outside their block of flats, on the main road, which had made a nasty habit of shitting on anything - or anyone, on some unpleasant occasion - that stopped for more than five minutes under the thick branches. A perfect hiding place for birds, that no one had thought to warn her about when she had moved in only a few months earlier.

She had deemed herself lucky the night before, when she had returned before anyone else and found the lot completely empty. She'd been so happy that she'd driven around a bit down there just for the hell of it. She'd pulled up next to the exit, thinking it would be easier to get out the next morning.

She hadn't anticipated the three assholes who had parked so as to block her path in every conceivable way.

She grunted, banging her fist against the steering wheel when she realised she still wasn't clear, and put the car into reverse for the twelfth time, before changing gear and driving three inches forward. And so on, and on, and on, until she managed to steer the face of the car towards the exit and let out a satisfied howl.

She started up the slope towards the road, taking her eyes off the driveway and distracting herself for a moment to choose which radio to listen to, when the car hit something and the dull sound of the bang echoed throughout her body, propelling her forward.

Aelin squealed, hitting the brakes hard enough to cause a high-pitched squeal, and soon the smell of burnt plastic filled her nostrils.

The car shut off and she pulled the handbrake vehemently, getting out of the car and trying to figure out which wall she had hit, already cursing every deity that had ever existed. She didn't have enough money to afford a repair, and she knew perfectly well that the dent would be there for months before she let any of her friends help her.

She wrinkled her brow, noticing how no side of the car was touching walls or columns.

"What the..."

And then she heard it, a grunt of pain.

She opened her eyes wide, running around the car and finding a man on the ground.

To the view of a head full of stark white hair, the fear she’d just ran over one of the oldies that lived on her floor stuck her. But then the person got up on their elbows and she let go of a sigh of relief.

But still, she had just runapartment someone over. She hurried his way.

"Oh, fuck." said Aelin, approaching the stranger. The man pulled himself up to sit, bringing a hand to his face, on his cheek, where a cut was bleeding profusely on his shirt.

"Holy shit." muttered the guy, looking up at her, "That hurt."

Aelin was frozen in time, her hands to her gaping mouth, looking for the right words.

When he tried to stand, swaying a little, she pushed through the fog in her mind and truly looked at him, searching other injuries, but not failing to notice his sheer handsomeness.

The man looked like he’d been made in heaven.

She shook her head, mentally reprimanding herself – now was not the time – and started talking.

“I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t see you there and- oh god, you’re bleeding. You need me to rush you to the hospital? Fuck, you think you broke something?” the words just kept flowing and flowing. “Where were you even going? Why didn’t you just got out of the main entrance? This fucking parking lot. I swear we have to call the landlord and have him put some lights down here. Your shirt,” she grimaced, eyeing the blood standing out on the white fabric. Aelin looked him in the eye, “I have a very similar one upstairs? You want me to go fetch it for you, I could-”

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, putting his hands in between them, forcing her to step back, “Shut the fuck up!”

Aelin’s mouth closed shut and her eyebrows raised so high she felt her skin pull on her temples. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes popping out.

This man. Sure, she’d just ran him over, but no one had ever talked to her like that.

“I’m fine.” he grumbled, “And I live in this building, I’ll go take my own shirt, thank you.” He took a deep breath, brushing off his trousers and bending to gather his stuff that had scattered around during his fall. When he lifted his head again, he gave her a tight smile and his piercing green eyes stared at her with an intensity that had Aelin’s toes curling in her shoes.

“Have a nice day.”

He then proceeded to walk away, leaving Aelin alone in the darkish driveway.

She looked around, hoping to see someone who could confirm that it had just been a figment of her imagination, but there was no one.

Getting back in her car, Aelin started the engine and drove up to the street, chewing on her lips, “What the fuck just happened?”

***

Aelin had thought all day about the mysterious man. She hadn’t been able to focus during her meetings and hadn’t even finished one of her projects. Something that she sure as fuck knew her boss would make her notice and work her ass off to make up for once word got to him.

Her day had started off so bad she knew it couldn’t get any worse, but she’d been wrong.

Her assistant had spilled coffee over her only finished drawing and herself. One of her coworkers had decided today was the perfect day to quit her job and pile her projects on Aelin’s desk. Then she’d gone out for lunch with some of her friends and it had started raining so heavily she’d been forced to stay in the office, only eye-eating the mouth-watering dishes her friends had posted on their instagram stories. They’d made it to the diner just before the sky cracked open.

And, the cherry on top, someone had keyed her car.

She’d been on the verge of tears when she’d spotted the red stains of her neighbor’s blood on the parking lot floor when she got back home, but she didn’t let any fall.

She had a date.

And she wouldn’t let all these little things get to her and ruin what could possibly be the best night of her life.

One of her life-long best friends had set her up on a blind date with one of her boyfriend’s best friends. She’d promised the man was the perfect match, someone Elide thought would keep her on her toes and match her overflowing personality.

Aelin had been hesitant at first when Elide hadn’t wanted to give her a name, or show her a picture, claiming she’d go all FBI style on him and ruin their first meeting, but she’d also promised Aelin she’d met the guy a few times and he’d been nothing but a gentleman.

And she had heard so much of him she felt like she’d known him her whole life.

Some of the things Elide had told her, she’d liked better if she’d found directly from him, but Aelin was a picky woman and she wasn’t risking another date with a creeper.

She pulled up in the restaurant’s parking lot where Elide had reserved the four of them a table and turned off her car, clutching the wheel. She took a deep breath. And another.

She was still a little worked up and all the pent-up emotions of the day were threatening to spill over the surface any minute, but she could make it past dinner and then have her little monthly breakdown in the peace and quiet of her apartment.

She fixed her lipstick, tightened up her ponytail and let two strands of hair cascade on the side of her face. She blew herself a kiss in the mirror, “You can do it.” she whispered as a short pet talk.

She got off the car, pulled out her phone to check if Elide was already inside and she was so focused on the screen she failed to notice someone backing up right in front of her until it was too late.

The car only bumped into her hip, but it was enough to make her lose her balance.

Aelin merely had time to register what was happening that she found herself lying in a puddle of rain and mud. She closed her eyes at the dull pain on the back of her head, but she knew for a fact the hit hadn’t been that bad.

She lifted her arms up, looking down at the wet spots on her dress, darkening by the second. Her seventy euros purse soaking up the water all around her.

The tension behind her eyes just increased when she heard the driver’s door open and someone step out of the car. She couldn’t have stopped the sobs even if she wanted to.

“Miss? Oh god, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

Strong arms circled her waist and pulled her up in a standing position. She brought her hands to her face, her body now racked by her crying as she tried to get a handle of herself.

“Miss?” the voice called again, now nearer. “Are you hurt? I didn’t-” the man talking stopped suddenly and Aelin looked up, not seeing anything through the tears. “You.”

And then it hit her.

That voice.

She knew that voice.

She ran her hand over her face, rubbing her eyes and staring right back at the man she had ran over that same morning.

Her mouth fell open.

He was looking at her with an amused expression and Aelin couldn’t find the words once again.

What was it with this man and his ability to take her ability to talk by just showing up?

He had a transparent band-aid on his cheek, his cut far less severe than she had thought, and his eyes were glistening with mirth. He was wearing a simple black pair of jeans and a dark green t-shirt, but he was even more handsome than in his work clothes.

Aelin was taking rushed, trembling breaths, and she was about to kill this man with her bare hands. Shred his skin off his bones and have him beg-

“I guess we’re even now, uh?”

His attempt of a joke flew over her head and she charged at him, a scream lodged in her throat.

His eyes widened and he took a step back when she flung her arm at him, trying to hit him. His hands closed around her wrists, blocking her from causing him more harm that she’d already done.

“You asshole!” she was screaming at the top of her lungs. “You ruined my dress!”

Aelin lifted a leg, more than convinced to kneel his balls, but he managed to block her blow again, infuriating her even more.

“I was about to meet the love of my life and ruined my fucking dress!”

He tried to push her away from him, still squeezing her wrists, and his brow furrowed.

“He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. He’s a pediatrician! He loves children! And he has a cute fucking dog my friend said I would love and cuddle the shit out of! Her name is Fleetfoot and she’s a golden retriever and Elide knows I fucking love goldens. And he’s from Orynth, just. Like. Me!” she got louder and louder with every word she spit out. “And he’s tall, and handsome and he’s the perfect match! And I deserved this one night!”

The man was now looking at her with a dumbfounded expression, his hold slightly loosening.

“I’m so done with this dating thing and I’d finally found him and you!” she shoved a finger in his chest, making him retreat a few steps. “You wanted your payback so bad you ran me over with your car!

“And now he’s gonna take one look at me and think I’m a fucking psycho! I bet my hair are the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen and my make up. Oh fuck, I must look like a panda.” Aelin started crying harder, laying her hands flat on the man’s torso, pushing her head to his chest. “I look like a fucking panda.”

She tried to speak again but her mind just couldn’t form any coherent thought, until she felt the man’s arms closing around her shoulders. He stepped closer, running his hand up and down her back, whispering something she couldn’t really hear over her crying.

Aelin didn’t know how much time she spent in the stranger’s embrace, but when the gravity of the scene she’d just made in front of him downed on her, she felt her body flare up in embarrassment.

That was her life now?

Having mental breakdowns in a dark parking lot after someone she’d ran over with her car had returned the gesture and then making them console her?

She detached herself from the man and for a second she thought she’d felt him hesitate before he took a step back. And another, leaving her standing her in her soaking wet dress and her puffy, surely-red eyes. He bent down, picking up her purse and handing it to her.

She lowered her gaze, not even daring looking at his shoes and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The man made a sound of surprise, “Why would you be sorry?”

Aelin wished she could die on the spot. Evaporate out of existence.

“For hitting you. Or at least trying. And crying all over you.” she said and then grimaced. She ran a hand over her face. “I just had a very hard day and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come, but this guy seriously seems like he could be the missing piece to whatever the fuck my puzzle-life is. I didn’t want to take a raincheck and have him thinking I’m not serious about this.”

A beat of silence, “I’m sure he would have understood.”

She shook her head, keeping on talking as if he hadn’t even been there, “And now I can’t go in like this.” she passed her hands on her dress, the tears building up again in her eyes. “Plus, Elide didn’t tell me what he looks like, cause she thinks he’s a real snack and wanted to see my face when I saw him for the first time.” she was bordering on pouting, “That means he’s gotta be smoking hot or I’ll be so pissed at her.”

The man snorted loudly, “A snack.” he hummed, “Maybe I should meet your friend and thank her.”

Aelin’s head snapped up, “Oh no, she’s taken.” she shook her head vehemently, “Like so freaking taken. I swear she and her boyfriend have been together for a whole of three months and they already act like a married couple.”

He nodded, a lopsided smile on his face, “I know the kind.”

She’d been so absorbed by her talking that she hadn’t noticed she’d stopped crying.

She breathed through her nose and clasped her hands together, before reaching one out towards him, “I think introductions are needed. I’m Aelin.” she offered a tentative smile.

His hand engulfed hers, shaking it with impressive gentleness. His smile grew even larger if possible and Aelin was starting to think she was about to het murdered.

But then he said his name and the world ceased existing around them.

Their hands still moving up and down between them.

She tilted her head forward, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

He licked his lower lip, “I’m Rowan.”

Aelin closed her eyes, holding her breath.

She squeezed his hand before releasing it. She took a step back, wishing for the ground beneath her feet to crack open and just eat her whole.

“I’m gonna go kill myself now, if you’ll excuse me.”

His laugh reached her ears with painful speed.

Rowan.

She couldn’t believe it.

Well, she could. The man laughing his heart out at her expense was probably the most handsome person she’d ever seen in her entire life.

At least Elide hadn’t lied about that.

“A tad dramatic, if you ask me,” he said as his laugh died down. He pointed at the restaurant behind him, “You want me to go fetch the married couple so we can go back at the appartment and you can change? I’m not against you walking in there with this outfit at all,” he gave a pointed look, matched by a shit-eating grin that seemed to be etched in his lips, “I’m not gonna think you’re a psycho, not for this at least, and I’m ready to fight everyone who looks at you the wrong way. But you look like you could use the comfort of a warm house.”

Aelin looked up at him with a questioning look, trying to understand if this man she’d just tried to maul was seriously offering her options, letting her choose after everything that had gone down so far between the two of them. As if still giving her a chance.

Rowan arched a brow, looking around and glancing back at her, “Aelin?”

Oh, fuck.

She had been oh so not ready o hear her name from his lips.

She nodded and he smiled, leaning down a bit.

She could smell his cologne from here.

“Yes to what? Me calling Lorcan and Elide or getting inside even if you dripping wet?”

Holy fucking shit, this man shouldn’t have been allowed to say the words dripping wet.

She stilled herself.

What the hell was she thinking? She brought her hands to her face, “Please call them and let’s head home. I’m so fucking tired.” a yawn broke her sentence, as to prove her words, “And I’m freezing in this skimpy dress.”

Rowan rushed to her side, “Oh, god, sorry for not offering sooner, here,” he opened the trunk of his car and pulled out a huge blue sweater. Without even waiting for an answer he snatched her purse from her hands and shoved her head in his sweater.

Aelin felt better right away and gave him a big smile.

Rowan answered with one of his own and of course he had to be this perfect and more.

“I’m sorry for ruining your dress, I’ll make sure they wash it carefully when I take it to the laundry. If you’d let me.”

She nodded faintly, exhaling the panty-dropping smell of his sweater.

“And I’m hoping to see you wear it again once we finally get to go on a proper date.” he smirked, “I bet you looked amazing before I went and ran you over.”

Aelin chuckled, shaking her head, “You truly are a gentleman. Elide wasn’t exaggerating.”

Rowan’s demeanor changed completely and Aelin feared she’d said something wrong, but he averted his gaze as if he was embarassed.

“I’m sorry for this morning,” he said. Aelin almost tripped on her feet. He was sorry? “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that but I was just coming back from the hospital and Elide was right saying I work with kids, but I’m not a pediatrician, I’m a pediatric surgeon.”

His gaze grew dark as he looked over her shoulder, avoiding meeting her eyes at all costs.

“Yesterday night we lost a eight years old and I wasn’t really there when you hit me with your car. I didn’t mean to yell at you like I did, it was just-”

Rowan couldn’t finish his sentence that Aelin lunged for him, hugging him as tight as he’d held her a few minutes before, hoping she could relieve some of the pain that was surely clutching his heart. She felt him sag in her arms and hold her in turn.

She was glad she could offer some kind of support.

“It must be hard.” she whispered against his chest.

Rowan nodded, hitting her head with his chin, “It is, but it’s part of the job. The only way you can live with something like that in your baggage is knowing you did everything you could to save them.”

Aelin could feel the emotion lacing his every word and tightened her arms for a moment before freeing him of her embrace. He silently thanked her and told her he’d be right back with their friends.

The second he was gone she realized she couldn’t wait for when he’d be back and they could keep talking.

She’d never felt this way before. Not this fast at least.

Sure, she had loved all her exes, but this. This was different.

There was something there, a connection.

And while he walked back to her, Lorcan and Elide in tow, a bright smile on his handsome face, she couldn’t help but think she was ready to find out all about it.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

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[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

[constantlyunlightening]

Work, work, work

Day 15: Cockwarming

Warnings/Other Kinks: Anxiety/Depression implications and mentions (Doppo is just like thattt), Doppo kinda snaps at the end, office sex/sex at work, dubcon (there's not explicit consent in this so I'm going to put it just in case but the reader and doppo are in a relationship and I meant for this situation to be consensual, but Doppo's anxiety in this situation made it seem kind of sus)

I have nothing but Hypmic on the brain. I love feral screaming Doppo. Would highly recommend listening to him belly scream here. :D I really do want the best for this boy tho. I love him so muchhhh.

Disclaimer: 18+ years and older to read. All characters in this work are 20 years or older. This is a fictional depiction of a relationship and is not meant to be mimicked in real life. I do not condone cockwaming your partner in their place of work irl.

It was always work, work, work with him. Well, work and rapping but Doppo hardly ever talked about his Matenro. It was always about his balding asshole of a boss, his terrible coworkers and work, work, work.

You knew he was a workaholic. You knew that when you fell in love with the guy. But geez. Time for him to learn that self care was a priority.

You had stormed to his office after having spent two hours - past the time he was supposed to get off - waiting for him at home. This overtime was bullshit. The man worked himself to the bone. And he didn't know how to say no. You worried about him! It was the reason why you marched right over to the cubicle. The place was deserted, all except for poor Doppo, sitting at his desk pinching the bridge of his nose and surrounded by paperwork.

"What the hell is all this?" You asked as you came up behind him and you almost felt bad watching as the man let out a shout, jumping out of his seat and scrambling like a frightened rabbit. A few of the papers he had on his desk got caught up in his whirlwind and dusted around the room - a fact you assumed Doppo would be disgruntled about later, but he looked far too nervous right now as he took labored breaths and let wide eyes take in your form.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

".... You're being worked too hard if the sound of your girlfriend's voice is enough to panic you," you quipped back, ignoring his question for now as you bent over to try to help organize some of the scattered documents that had fallen to the floor. Let him have the time to bring his breathing back to normal. You were mainly pissed at his job for overworking him - not so much him. Didn't need to go give him a heart attack. "You're here late again. I was checking in on you." A pile of paperwork stacked against your chest, you moved over closer to him to set it down on the desk and took your time eyeing the assortment of work he had lying around. This couldn't all be his. Some of them must be pawning off their work, and Doppo just so happened to be the biggest doormat around. A sigh heaved from your lips, and you didn't miss the way Doppo shuddered. How could you? The man tensed up like he was being shot by lightening. "Looks like it was a good thing I did too. This work would have kept you here all night if someone didn't come to stop you."

"I'm sorry!" You weren't surprised but the volume of his apology made you jump and as he started to spew off more and more apologies, you quickly grabbed him by the tie and yanked him in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You weren't trying to invalidate his feelings by cutting him off, but there was no reason for him to be panicking like he was. And luckily, kisses from you always seemed to soothe him - at least as soothed as someone like Doppo could be.

"Baby," you purred gently, pulling your lips from his and watching the way his cheeks lit up with a dusting of pink. Always so stressed, this one. But the face he made after you kissed him made your heart flutter. Dumbfounded but he still managed to swoon in subtle ways - those aquamarine eyes zoomed in on you like you were treasure. The simple strokes you gave to his hair made him melt - the tension zapped out of his shoulders and he almost started to slump into you. "You don't have to say sorry. But it's time to go home now. No more work."

That cute daze in his expression only lasted a moment more before it was like all that anxious energy plowed right back into him. The word 'work' was enough to flip a switch with him. "That's not right! I have a whole ton of it!" His arm extended outward, waving at the stacks piled high. "I'm sorry but I have more work to do. I'll finish as soon as I can but - I gotta do this or my crazy boss will pile even more work on me! Or I'll lose my job or worse I-ll-"

"Doppo!" You cut him off and tried to calm him down. It worked to some extent but only enough to keep him from screaming or spiraling into one of his crazes. You didn't convince him to stop working though and eventually you had to settle for watching him drown himself in the work in front of him, trying to suppress your groans.

You loved the man. But really?

Playing the waiting game wasn't something you were interested in though. Which is why, after a bit of working, you somehow managed to not only weasel your way into his lap but you also got his cock out of his pants, stroking it just enough to get him riled up as you watched him try not to panic.

"You can't just do that-"

"I just did. Don't worry. The cameras can't see in here. It's fine," you coaxed, letting him stay nervous anyway as you pushed your panties to the side from underneath your skirt causing him to visibly gulp. But he wasn't pushing you off.

"I have to work," he declared, whispers on the verge of being shouts fell from his lips but cut off into a whimper as the head of his dick was suddenly being warmed up by the heat of your body as you slowly sank down onto him - taking him in inch by inch. 

It wasn't until you were fully seated to the hilt, listening to his breath hitch that you gave a tiny huff. "Then work." And your body stilled. No movement other than the flutter and clench of your walls against your hung lover, letting your eyes watch his flustered face. He clearly didn't know what to say and you watched as his gaze flickered around like a chicken with its head cut off - to your face, to his paperwork, to where your bodies were joined and then anywhere but you. Good. Get him riled up. He was panicking but you could feel him twitch inside of you, like he was anticipating for you to move - waiting for it. But you kept your hips locked in place as you leaned in and rested your head on his shoulder. "Work, Doppo. Just giving you some motivation for when you finally get done." Your voice was much to kindly for someone who just pulled somebody's dick out in the middle of a public office. But it managed to keep him from tipping over his brink just yet. Poor thing always got so worked up. Your physical actions may not be helping that necessarily, but your voice always seemed to soothe him over, even if it was only a little at a time. 

"H-how?" You listened to him practically squeak, shifting under you and instantly giving a whine at the slight push against your walls. How was he supposed to work when you were on him like this? How was he supposed to concentrate when you were constricting around him? When you were filling him with molten lava from the bottom up?

With feather light kisses, you trailed a line across his neck, trying to remain still on the cock that was stretching out your insides - forcing the urge to bounce on him like a pogo stick until you both lost even the capability to think of work. You would behave somewhat for now though. Doppo could get his work done. You could get some form of closeness in the meantime. Besides, maybe a good vise grip on him could speed up the process? Or make him say 'fuck it' altogether - hopefully, literally fuck it. "Just work, Doppo. Since it's so important. Ill wait," you cooed, almost as if you were being thoughtful. Too sweet for him to argue and you listened to him give a defeated groan of a sound before he tried to level out his breath and refocus. 

Oh, but that was easier said than done. Doppo had restarted on the paperwork, working around you as your warm body nuzzled into his chest. He usually felt like he was suffocating at work but right now, it felt like your body was trying to strangle the life out of him from somewhere other than the neck. How were you so tight? How come velvety walls were squeezing down on him over and over again without either of you even moving? You were starting to leak out around him, a sticky mess starting to spill out onto his lap slowly - torturous. Maybe you were actually trying to be sweet. Maybe you were actively trying to mess with him. But either way, it was kicking up a bad habit within him. He would reach for another stack, shifting in the chair and causing the tiniest of mewling to escape from your lips. It was a blissful sigh here, a hitched breath there, a tiny hum into his chest and it was going to break him. He was supposed to be focusing but at this rate, he was going to start making mistakes on his work.

You were causing him to silently work himself up. Each climb of his emotions resulted in a string of jitters, and in return had your body clenching even tighter on him. How could you even feel like that? He choked, tugging at his tie to try and gasp for air. You were messing with him. You had to be. You must be mad he wouldn't leave. This was his retribution. To be strangled by your wet cunt over and over without reprieve- without any motion for relief. Well, fuck that. He may love you. But he worked far to hard day in and day out. Pent up didn't even begin to describe it. If you were going to try to rile him up like that, then he would give you riled up because he couldn't take it. Not a second longer. Not with that familiar primal darkness beginning to flare inside him.

His body rocked and you instinctively lifted your head from his chest to peer up at him, the first actual movement he had made since you had sat on him. "Are you okay?"

"O-okay?" He was stuttering his words but unlike his panic from before, this time he sounded angry. It wasn't a tone he took entirely too often. But you knew Doppo. You knew if his buttons were pressed enough, he would snap. He was tea kettle, getting hotter- "how do you except me to be okay-" and hotter "- when your purposely trying to make me-" until he screamed "-loose my fucking mind!?"

You only had enough time to widen your eyes before he flew out of his chair, taking you with him and slamming you onto his desk. The noise he made was positively feral - teetering between a growl and a scream - and without a warning, he was wrecking you, bludgeoning into you with a speed you hadn't even been aware he was capable of. 

"D-D-Doppo!" You were trying to talk but the sudden thrusting was knocking out your capabilities to think. You had been stretched out and horny for a while now but at this pace you couldn't keep up. You were trying to grip at his shoulders for some type of stability. "H-hang on a sec-"

"Hang on?!" He sounded unhinged - a growl ringing in the back of his throat so different from his usual meek - if not panicked - composure. "I've been hanging on! I've been hanging on this whole time! You just had to be on me huh? When I'm at work!" Papers were tossing up into the air around you and you could hear the clatter of the cubicle as he knocked you into the desk over and over. Oh, you couldn't even keep your eyes opening with the way your senses seemed to overload. "All this work - all these damn excuses to pile it onto me - and then you still come in here and give me more work. Too needy? Need my to pound you senseless before I can finish my work? Then that's what I'll do. I'll take you over and over and over again until you're out for days!" He declared, his hands clamping down on your hips and you could already feel the bruises even as the head of his cock shifted up enough to find your sweet spot, leaving you wailing out. "Again and again and again!" He got louder and louder with his sounds, growls and grunts turning into wanton groans and gasps as he split you in two. 

This would teach you not to mess with him at work. Or maybe it would teach you to mess with him more.

[pennemac]

walk through fire for you (just let me adore you)

Chapter 1 ▪︎Even At 3am

Series Summary- This is my first attempt at writing with criminal minds characters! The show has recently become one of my favorite things to write and ramble about. This is a series of works that are written around an autistic Spencer Reid, and his journey's of finding comfort and joy within his team.

Chapter Summary- Spencer finally reaches out when he's struggling with a bout of sensory overload. It takes a whole lot of courage on his part and a good dose of platonic love from his boss to calm him down. (ft. Spencer's stuffed axolotl)

Warnings/Topics- Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Talk of sensory issues, Crying, The beginnings of a panic attack, Platonic cuddling, A good dose of Hotch being a dad through and through :)

I post these on ao3 first! my ao3 is here

Word Count- 1.9k

There's a light pattering of the beginning of a storm outside of the hotel room window, and Spencer is so tired. He has been, in fact, for the last two days, 16 hours, and 43 minutes. 

If Spencer was any semblance of normal, he thinks, he would probably be soothed by the little sounds of rain, but he's not. In fact, it's angering him. It's a constant white noise sound, like television static, but worse, because it can't just be turned off by the click of a button. He isn't even entirely sure why it's making him as mad as it is. 

The sound itself is even making him acutely aware of the way unfamiliar sheets feel against his legs, and the way his hair won't stay out of his face. It's alot, honestly. With every second that passes, the rain makes him more and more upset. None of his usual tactics of calming down have worked so far, either. 

He hasn't been able to read, because his brain felt like it was being drowned out by the sounds of rain against various outdoor surfaces. Music, though he'd never been a huge fan of anything other than soft piano, had also felt as though it was simply accompanying the rain, assisting it in it's attempt to make him breakdown. 

It starts out like this, usually. The discomfort, leading into being easily aggravated, but from then it's everything setting him off. Rain, the constant chatter of a room filled with busy police officers, the ticking of a clock, the texture of his pants, or sheets, or any unfamiliarity. 

He's been trying to sleep for days, but he hasn't been able to. To combat this, he'd been consuming copious amounts of coffee. This had made him more twitchy, antsy, than he had been before. His hands now, even, shake as he throws the blankets and sheets off of his legs. 

The frustration reaches it's peak though, when he has to struggle to pull his socks off of his feet, and tears fall from his eyes as he leans back onto the bed. As he tries his best to just breathe, he remembers how Hotch had separated him from the rest of their team, pulling him aside and out of the crowded room, as if he'd had an innate sense that he hadn't been doing well. 

"Do you need to leave, Reid? I won't make you stay here if it's not going to be beneficial for others or for yourself." 

He hadn't managed to give a complete answer, just nodding, hands curling into his pant legs. "Go with Morgan to the mortuary. I was going to send him alone but the quiet of a car will do you good." 

His boss had moved to lay a hand onto his shoulder, deciding not to when Spencer had visibly flinched. "I am completely serious when I say that you have to stop over exerting yourself. It does nobody any good when you render yourself useless to others." 

Spencer had frowned, not exactly happy with being reprimanded, but he knew that Aaron was certainly correct. 

"Beyond that, though, I understand. I made an agreement when I hired you into this team that I'd be here when you need me. You have to reach out to someone when it's necessary." 

So now, as he sits in the dark of his room, he does his best to remind himself that it's okay to reach out when he needs someone. His hands are shaky as he finds his bosses contact and presses call before he can over think it. 

It's answered fairly quickly. "Reid? What's going on?" 

"I'm- it's not anything serious I'm just… I think I'm gonna have a panic attack and I haven't slept for nearly three days, I don't know how to stop it." 

He knows how weak his voice sounds, and he hates it. His hands clench and unclench in his bedsheets. Tears continue to slip down his face and his shoulders and neck feel tense. 

He hears a the rustling of sheets on the other side of the call before he gets a response. "Can you come up here? You know my room number, yes?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." 

"Okay, come up to my room, then. You're gonna be okay." 

He nods, only realizing afterwards that Hotch couldn't actually see it. He tosses his own phone into the open duffle bag by the foot of his bed. The room he's in is uncomfortably dark, and he hesitates for a moment before he moves to reach into the black bag, pulling out a small-ish stuffed axolotl. 

It's soft, and the eyes are embroidered, rather than buttons or beads, so they feel nice for his hands to run over. The texture is soft but smooth, and he's grateful that it's that rather than shaggy or rough. 

When he's made it up onto the third floor, rather than the second, where his room was, his embarrassment levels had risen and by the time he'd made it up to the door, he heavily considered turning back. 

Spencer's grateful when he only has to knock once for the door to open. 

Hotch stands in the doorway, and this is probably the only time that Spencer would ever see him in just sweatpants and a soft shirt. 

He moves out of the way once he realizes who it is, letting him walk into the room. 

His boss moves in front of him, to sit on the large bed in the middle of the dimly lit space. 

"What animal is that?" He points vaguely at the pink stuffed animal clutched in shaky hands. 

Spencer stands awkwardly across from the bed, his hands fiddling gently with the eyes and the tail of the toy. "It's, uhm… an axolotl. Penelope got it for me cause she knows textures I like and don't like." 

Hotch gently sits back to make room for him. He pats the empty space, hoping that Spencer will take the invitation to sit. He does, watching his own hands as if avoiding looking up at his coworker. 

"Do you wanna talk about what's been happening? It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but it can be a good distraction." 

He nods slowly, tucking his legs in to sit cross legged. "I- the rain. It's like… t.v. static. I haven't been able to sleep because the sheets are so unfamiliar…" 

One hand moves up to hardly brush a tear from his cheek. God, he hates this. Vulnerability doesn't come easy to him, it never has. He knows how tight his breathing is, and that realistically he should start breathing deeper to ensure that he doesn't become light headed but- it's a lot easier to say than to do. 

"Can I touch your hands, Spencer?" 

The man in question gives an affirmative nod and watches as hands slightly larger than his own come into his line of vision, wrapping around one hand that isn't wrapped around the body of a stuffed animal.

"I know it's tough, but can you breath for me? Just a few deep breaths?" 

Fingers flex between Aaron's own, squeezing in what he's fairly certain is an effort to ground himself. 

Tears drop down steadily still, and one lands softly on the back of Hotch's hand. 

A thumb circles slowly in the dip of where Spencer's hand meets his wrist. "I do hate to seem any kind of strict right now, but… Spencer, I know how hard it is to tell us when you start struggling. What I need you to know though, is that when Gideon agreed to have you on this team, and when I made the decision to keep you here, we knew exactly what we were doing." 

A small sob comes from Spencer, and it deepens Aaron's own frown. 

"You are an incredible asset to our team. You are the driving force to solving most cases we come across. There's nothing you could do, or show, or say, to us that would make us value or love you any less. If that means this, or telling us you need a break, or letting through more tendencies or quirks when we're working- all of that is good. You do so good, I jus-" 

He's cut off abruptly when his hands are shaken away and Spencer all but tackles him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck and face pressing into his shoulder. 

"And here I thought you were always so worried about germs." 

Spencer sobs lightly, tears dampening the material under his face. His legs rest on the outside of Aaron's thighs, his weight settled on his legs. The man below him tentatively brings hands around his back to envelope him in a hug, hands rubbing down to ease the tension where he can. 

"It's- it's so much." 

And this, at least, Aaron can understand. His breathing doesn't even out more than it had, and Aaron would be much more worried if he didn't know that at least in some sense, this would tire him out. So, instead of urging him to calm down as he'd mistakenly done before, when he was less aware of Spencer's diagnosis, he takes a different route. 

"Spencer, name 3 things you can feel." 

Light sniffles come and shaky breaths still echo in his right ear, but he moves to where his mouth won't be muffled. 

"That method of- of calming people down is something they use on kids-" 

"Three things, Reid." 

He huffs a little bit, but obeys. "Your hands." He shifts where he sits. "The- uhm, the bedsheets under my knees." 

One hand goes up to his face, pulling strands of hair back to tuck it behind his ear. "My face is really warm." 

Even though Spencer was right, the method of describing different sensory inputs was something people use on children, it was working well enough for him that Aaron wasn't going to stop using it. 

"Three things you can see?" 

He lifts his head from the shoulder it had been resting on, eyes moving around the room. He looks down slightly. "My hands are shaking." A glance to the left, afterwards, "My stuffed animal is to your left." 

"And your lamp is on, but it's… dim." 

His voice is soft, and it makes him seem small. He feels small too, body trembling under Aaron's hands. 

"Can you smell anything?" 

Spencer moves his head in a gesture of affirmation. "Your cologne." He pauses to pull in a deep breath. "Cleaning products, several." 

He's breathing is beginning to fade into a normal pace, and there's less shake to his voice. 

"Taste?" 

"Mint… my uh, my toothpaste. Coffee." 

Strong hands move up to his shoulders and neck, massaging lightly into the skin there. 

"Hm. What about sounds?" 

There's a silence in the room now. Spencer sits up slightly with realization. "The rain. It's not raining anymore." 

"Mhm. Maybe the universe listened to you, for once." 

He nods softly. 

They sit like this for a moment, Spencer relaxing into the pressure of Aaron's hands, his tears slowly to a stop. 

"Can I… Stay in here? I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone." 

Hotch gives a single nod, and it would have seemed curt, but his face is soft. "Of course." 

Spencer moves slowly off of him, fumbling for the pink toy before he lays down completely. 

Hotch moves to do the same, but notes briefly the distance that had been put between them. "You can come back over here, y'know." 

A tense breath was released and it brings a small smile onto the older mans face as he feels Spencer wiggle back up to his side, one arm laying over his stomach and a head resting against his chest. He takes the opportunity to wrap arm back around slender shoulders, only after lightly brushing stay strands of hair behind Spencer's ear.

"Goodnight, kid." 

"Night Hotch."

[httpcegan]

This took fucking months to finish because my inspiration left my ass high and dry towards the ending and was harder to find than Jesus Christ in a whore house like fuck, I'm glad as shit to get this trash out of my damn drafts.

Warning: Gore but not like super graphic, dark Carl (like dark Carl) and Negan is a warning on his own

Also, here is how I picture Mikey:

-

Beat up white air max sneakers skid along the alleyway’s pavement at a quick pace almost hard enough to leave black scuff marks on the tan cement. The owner of the shoes pants and wheezes, out of breath as he’s clearly unfit for his opponent, though determinedly doesn’t stop in his haste to get away. If he remembers right, just a little further up and with one sharp turn to the left, he should be hitting where the alley lets out to a main road and all he’ll have to do from there is dodge a few cars and he’ll be home free. The boy reaches the corner in little to no time but as he rounds it, he’s met with a solid brick wall. It’s enough to make his stomach drops.

He swears he can feel his heart lurching in his throat.

Something isn’t right here, he knows these alleyways like the back of his fucking hand.

He’s been running them for longer than he can remember.

Suddenly, a laugh echoes it’s way to his ears. It bounces from the walls opposite of the alley as footsteps sound shortly after it.

The kid puts his back to the wall, all he can do is wait to greet his fate as one would death.

Mikey has never really been one for religion, he’s only been to his nonna’s baptist church probably a total of five times his entire life and never has he actually opened a bible before (let alone read one) but right now, he’s praying to whatever higher being that he’s been told lurks in the shadows and works behind the curtain that this man doesn’t catch him. If he does, Mikey only hopes for a quick bullet to the head as some sick form of mercy once the information spiels from his lips, because he knows if he is caught and spared by this man, there will be hell to pay by someone who’s far less merciful.

Fear pumps through his veins, his blood runs cold and his face visibly pales as he hears what can only be the sound of a second set of footsteps that follow behind the first. Fuck. He’s so fucked. There’s a moment of silence were both sets of footsteps come to a halt and it’s so quiet that Mikey can hear the sound of his heart beating rapidly against the base of his eardrums, it leaves a feeling of uneasiness. The moment of silence is brief and short-lived as the footfall starts up again but this time they are accompanied by whistling.

The tune is a familiar one, take me out to the ball game, his nonno use to hum and whistle it around the house during baseball season. He had always sought a nostalgia appeal from the song, it reminding him of easier days, but right now it has his stomach curling and heart in his throat. He sees the two silhouettes bleeding into the pavement as the men inch closer before they stop once again, the whistling meeting its end as well. It's an unspoken gesture, one that signifies no turning back.

“Do you know what I hate, Simon?” A voice questions, the tone is sharp, demanding of all attention and receiving it as so, a skill that must take years to perfect. “No boss, what?” another voice, Simon apparently, chimes in.

“An alley rat.”

Two men round the corner in unison, but the one on the right is undoubtedly the boss. Mikey can tell from the way the man’s presence bleeds power, how his shoulders stand firm with purpose and how his whole demeanor oozes confident. The alleyway is poorly lit so Mikey can’t get a good look at the man’s face, he does manage to make out a sharp jaw-line that is covered in 5 o'clock shadow with hints of grey strings.

“You like my new investment?” the man smirks pointing a glove covered finger in the direction behind Mikey, at the brick wall that is what currently has him caged. Mikey swallows hard, his heartbeat speeding up, even more, that is if it were possible, and he’s afraid he just might go into cardiac arrest at this point. Minutes stretch on in a manner that is too slow and it dawns on him a bit too late that the man actually wanted a response. “A quiet one huh? That’s alright, I absolutely fucking hate small talk anyway," the man pauses, a shit-eating grin stretching across his face before he continues on. "So let’s get down to business, who in the actual fuck gave you the go to sell on my turf?” he questions with a tilt of his head to the side.

There’s a certain authority to his voice that almost makes Mikey’s legs shake and teeth chatter. "Cause it sure as shit wasn't me and I know my right-hand man, Simon here didn't give you permission so I'm curious as to who the fuck told you that you could?" the man continues on, grinning big and wide, it's beginning to make Mikey uncomfortable, he feels like he's staring at the Cheshire cat himself. A more dark and twisted version but the Cheshire cat no less. “I-I’m not at authority to say.” Mikey mentally pats himself on the back for not letting his words quiver too much.

The response does earn a raised eyebrow in turn from the man--or the Cheshire cat man as Mikey has nicknamed him in his head. There’s amusement filtering in on his expression but Mikey would be a fool to assume it meant he was off the hook. “Look kid, it’s been a long night. Just give us a name and we won’t even hurt ya, at least not this time.” The other man, Simon, finally slips out of his blank expression and into a grin himself, one that is wide like a shark's. The corners of his lips are pulled back too far and too tight for the grin to be even remotely close to genuine it almost looks painful. Mikey doesn’t allow his gaze to linger on Simon for too long, he’s not as big of a threat as the other man is, he’s the one who calls the shots after all.

The alleyway is quiet, aside from the loud blare of honking horns and the distant chatter of pedestrians on the other side of the wall. Mikey thinks about screaming but the thought is quickly dismembered and embalmed when he's reminded of just how easy and fast it would be for these men to simply cut out his tongue or maybe slit his throat if they felt up to the mess. But even if he did scream, It’s not like people would help him anyway, not on this side of town. You’d be a fool if you still haven’t managed to perfect the skill of turning the other cheek on the South side of Boston. "I really can't say, they'll kill me," Mikey says as calmly as he can but on the inside the thought of what they'd do to him has him wishing for something--for anything to happen.

Nothing ever does.

The Cheshire cat man loses his grin, it quite literally plummets from his face and he's fixing Mikey with a hard stare. It's one of the single most scariest things he's ever seen in his short pathetic life and part of him knows these aren't the type of men to ask a third time. The boy is so focused on the man glaring at him that he doesn't even see the fist that Simon hurls in his direction.

-

Mikey isn’t sure where he is, the place is dimly lit and smells like a mixture of mildew and iron-- or maybe it's blood he’s smelling. He isn’t sure how long he’s been here either, he's been out cold since the alley. He had only woken up just a few moments ago when Simon had all but shoved him into a chair and woke him up with a few rough slaps to the face. The two of them hadn't even given him time to process things before they got to work. At first, they started off with beatings, little hit here big hit there, things Mikey could handle but when they realized they wouldn’t get much progress from that they tried a new method. They began taking, no– actually ripping off each fingernail painfully slow, leaving his fingertips a bloody mess and him a wailing one. It hurt like hell, but Mikey wouldn't make so much as a peep about his boss.

When it didn’t work, they brought in a pair of pliers and began breaking a finger with each unanswered question, when that failed they moved down to his toes. Still with not one question answered they've grown agitated and Mikey knows it if them spending what has to be an hour of resetting and then breaking his fingers along with toes again before repeating the process over and over again says anything. His throat feels raw from screaming so hard and loud, his eyes ache from the amount of crying and he’s not completely all there. His mind is drifting between blurred lines and consciousness. When they come back, Mikey knows he’s as good as dead.

“I think I’m gonna take a few souvenirs.” the Cheshire cat man tells Simon with a sick grin, there’s a certain glint in his eye as he speaks, one that can’t quite be categorized. Mikey feels like throwing up. With one glance down Mikey sees it, in his hand is a machete and in the other is a lighter. Mikey watches while barely being able to hold his head up. The man lights the blade part of the machete a few times and then he stops.

Mikey just barely comprehends that the man has moved toward him before he's letting out one of the worst screams that he has all night. Looking down at his right hand, the machete’s blade has been dropped down right onto his fingers. Three are gone and one is just barely hanging on by the little thread of skin there. He screams until his vocal cords feel like they won't ever work again.

He screams with everything he’s got left in him, but in all retrospect, it probably sounds about as loud as a clatter of pans on carpeted floor to outsiders.

His screams have just begun to subside to broken off sobs when the man picks the machete back up. He edges closer to Mikey’s other hand but the boy is quick in balling his hand into a fist, hiding his fingers. “Wait! Pl-please wait!” he begs, tears streaming down his face. The man heeds the plea, tilting his head off to the side momentarily as if he’s waiting.

Mikey breaks.

He whispers a name, he whispers it so quietly that he doubts the man heard.

The man does hear him though.

Mikey watches as he drops the machete down onto a table not too far away, it looks like he’s about to turn and leave but Mikey calls out to him.

“Kill me, please,” he begs but gets no response, only the sobering sound of a steel door slamming shut. Mikey gives one last wailing scream.

-

These men are cruel, Mikey has come to understand as much as he stumbles through the large mansion while they trail behind. He can’t feel his toes and he can hardly keep his balance. He knows that if he looks down he can see the white meat of his toes and maybe a bone or two piercing through the flabs of skin. The boy is pressing a once white, but now completely stained red, rag to where his fingers should be. The bleeding has stopped at this point but the wound throbs almost unbearably painful without pressure. He has foregone shoes seeing as he couldn't exactly walk in them even if he wanted to.

It didn’t take the two men long to find and infiltrate his boss’s home, it obvious that they weren’t just some small time dummies but instead some higher up men, though he finds that least scary about this entire situation. The scariest part to him is what his boss is going to do to him once he realizes he was the one who gave the name.

The thought nearly brings tears to Mikey’s eyes.

This wasn’t how he planned for his life to end, he’s only seventeen with a two-month-old baby girl waiting on him back at home.

He only got into this life for her, because nobody else would take on a seventeen year old high school drop out with a baby to work.

Work was hard to find, and bills were stacking up. There was only so much his grandparents could do, babies were expensive, so he saw a chance and took it. He joined low in the ranks. Just a crew lackey moving and distributing the crank. He was never supposed to be on the frontlines. This wasn’t the fucking plan.

Mikey’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt as a figure appears from around the corner in front of them.

The person is of a rather short build, with slightly board shoulders that seem to be covered by locks of overflowing brunette hair.

Mikey doesn’t even want to get started on the curves they have, the kind that could easily be hidden with baggy clothes but the sheer see-through silk robe that they’re wearing does not offer the same comfort.

The person haven’t noticed the three of them trailing behind them, has they continue down the hall at least that is until Simon’s boss speaks up.

“Well damn, this is a lovely surprise. Why don’t you turn around for us now little Ms.” The man instructs with a whistle.

The person halts in their steps before slowly turning around and it’s just as Mikey feared. The person standing before them is none other than Carl Grimes. Or as of now, Don Carl Grimes.

The boy doesn’t look the least bit amused by their presence, and instead looks rather annoyed, though not exactly alarmed either.

“Holy shit, you are not a chick, though, not that I mind.” The man continues on and Mikey is starting to think he has a death wish. “Ron, vieni qui piccola.” Carl speaks in a calm tone as his eyes land on Mikey. Fear hits Mikey square in the chest as those scary blue eyes all but size him up.

“Alright sweetheart, listen up, I’m sure none of this envolves you. We’d just like to talk to the man in charge of this pipsqueak.” The man speaks again after a moment of silent before he’s shoving Mikey forward causing the boy himself to almost lose his balance. Mikey stumbles forward, closing the distance between him and Carl before he’s tripping and all but falling into the boy. Carl surprisingly catches him and holds him up against his chest. Mikey isn’t sure why but that’s the moment he chooses to break. Tears fall from his eyes, and hiccups wreck through his body. The position is a bit awkward due to how much taller Mikey is compared to Carl but the other boy still holds him never the less, allowing Mikey to wet the shoulder of his silk robe with tears.

“I’m sorry.” Mikey sobs out repeatedly until his voice is quite literally gone.

Carl only shushes him with a small hand pressed to his back, rubbing soothing circles into his back as one would do an upset child.

Soon enough another person joins the large hall rather hastily. “Yes boss?” The blonde speaks moving to stand at Carl’s side, Mikey barely eyes him though he does catch a glimpse of something shiny on the boy’s hip. The two other men stand in surprise at the boy’s words as if they hadn’t expected to hear that.

“Ron...I thought you said we had the evening cleared.” Carl hums, brushing soft fingers through Mikey’s hair and he can’t help but find the touch comforting.

“That’s because we did.” Ron answers as he looks to Simon and his boss. Mikey feels a sense of relief, surely they’d learn that had fucked with the wrong people. Carl would teach them that.

“Oh, I’m sorry! How goddamn rude of me? My name is Negan, and I don’t appreciate you stealing from me.” The  Cheshire Cat man—Negan, speaks up. “Stealing from you?” Carl questions with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Your little lackeys have been selling on my turf.” Negan explains and after few moments realization dawns on Carl’s face. The boy nods, “My apologizes, I was not aware that someone had staked claim...” Carl begins in an upmost sincere tone while Negan smirks, “...to areas that have been known to be under the Grimes last name for several years, now if you don’t mind me asking, how is it that you find yourself to be in my home?” Carl shoots back and Negan’s smirk falls.

“Your boy gave us a name, it wasn’t very hard from there.” Negan points a finger at Mikey and the boy tenses.

The boy pauses against Carl’s chest before he’s starting his apologizes right back up.

He’s only meet with a small shush and a soothing hand rubbing at his back again.

He’s flooded with relief as he sobs, the display of mercy is all that he could ask for.

He’s going to see his daughter, he’ll get to see her first steps and hear her first words. He’s going to get out this life after tonight and do better for her.

Strangely enough, Carl hugs him. He holds his head against his chest and just holds him with one hand. Mikey will admit that it is pretty comforting.

Though no one sees it coming when in one shift motion and woth his free hand, Carl takes the gun from Ron’s hip and blows Mikey’s brains out.

The gunshot echoes loudly in the silent hall as Mikey’s lifeless body collapses against him before all but sliding to the floor. Blood and brain matter decorate both Carl and the marble white floor.

The boy only looks displeased at the mess.

“Ron, get rid of him.” Carl says before he’s looking back to a rather shocked Negan and Simon.

“Now boys, give me one reason why you shouldn’t join Mikey over here.” Carl begins.

“Shit that was hot.” Negan blurts as he continues to stare in surprise....

[allsystemsarenotgo]

A friend and I were talking one day, and she shared this with me.

She was much like me, raised with a quarter between the knees, terrified of the things we were taught to avoid and trying to live reasonably noble lives. She wasn't allowed Birth Control for religious reasons (pro-life) as well as to prevent enablism. Her family was much more religious than mile, though I still went to church during my Sophomore, Junior, and Senior years of high school.

She married a guy 10 years older than herself, who was a long-time routine customer of her family's business. They married right after she graduated high school, long before she applied to higher education.

She is a nurse now. She has 3 kids, works long hours at a hospital, and her husband is a successful farmer as he always has been. She struggled at times, but she made it through.

She knows life would have been easier without the first child, but she was innocent and naiive and I think she realizes that she jumped in the deep end of the pool before learning how to swim.

I did the same thing.

All through high school I pledged to abstinence until marriage. I hated everything to do with sex. The topic, the drama, the action, the result. I wanted nothing to do with it.

But I also never dated through grade school at all. I never had a girlfriend. Plenty of crushes (M.S. above being one of them), but just as many denials. Because I didn't drink, smoke, do drugs, have FFA animals, or play athletics, I also wasn't a member of any social group. I was always the kid in the corner of the cafeteria scarfing food down in 5 minutes and sleeping the other 20, or asking to go to a teacher's classroom, where it was serene and quiet.

My freshman year of college, I even wrote an essay on abstinents for English class. That really didn't go over well in regards to having to read it out loud. There might as well have been fruit flying at me.

My dorm was set up such that we had 3 private bedrooms that shared a living space and bathroom. One of the roommates always had girls over, and he never tried to be quiet (or if he did, he failed...badly).

So those two things were my indoctrination to college life. Getting judged and leered at for writing an abstinence essay, and having to listen to a roommate multiple times a week.

Towards the very end of my freshman year, a girl from high school messaged me. We started talking, and she admitted that she had always had a crush on me and was too shy to ever say anything.

Error #1: For no good reason whatsoever, I agreed to formulate a relationship with this female

So when I moved home from the dorms, I hung out with the lass a few times, but my parents were moving out of the country and closer to my school, so I could live at home. That meant that this would now be a 1.5-hour-each-way medium-distance relationship.

So every 4th or 6th weekend during the remainder of that summer and into the fall semester, I would drive up and spend a day with her. Sometimes, I would drive her out of the country and into the city to give her a glimpse of escape (it was very impoverished where we grew up).

Error #2: Doing whatever made her happy

I really enjoyed the time that we spent together. She got me a purity necklace for Christmas that year. She said she understood that my preference meant something to me.

But then, something changed. She would start dropping enuindos and jokes and send me photos that I didn't ask for.

Error #3: Not standing up for myself

She said that I meant something to her, and asked me if she meant something to me. At the time, I did not comprehend that as a trap...but I wanted to make her happy, so I said "yes".

The next thing I know, she is booking a hotel for us for Valentine's day. Wherein, I learned a thing or two or five or ten that I really wasn't interested in learning in the first place.

-Provides Clorox to help scrub the thoughts from your mind-

After that, she wanted me to come see her more and more often. But I was tied up with school and life.

Mind you, we usually had a phone call every night, or at least every other night. Same time, right before bed. Sometimes we would fall asleep on the phone with eachother.

Error #4: Accepting anything as fact

Well one night, I called her, and she answered...but it was noisy in the background, like she was driving. But she never talked while driving, and wouldn't answer the phone with family in the car.

She said she was in a friend's car and they were going to the beach for the night, which was completely reasonable for the time of year and her group of friends. She cut the conversation short saying they had arrive, so we bid our greeting. But she didn't hang up, and something told me that I shouldn't either. So I didn't.

"Who was that?"

"Don't mind him. He was just calling to check on me. He's controlling like that."

"He sounds like a jerk"

"Enough about him. He won't do this."

-Provides more clorox-

And that's how I found out that her primal needs were more important than our "relationship".

Unfortunately, shortly after I broke up with her, I was sent a photo of her quite visibly pregnant. Fortunately, the timetable did not add up to Valentine's day (aside of the fact that it was physically/biologically 95% impossible).

That summer, I started a job at the student newspaper. Right off the bat, one of the graphic artists and I got along very well. We spent way too much time at work talking to eachother and goofing off, instead of working. Enough so that our boss took notice and things got tense for a bit with him. We still cranked out work no problem, but we were both too young to understand workplace policy and procedure when it comes to "dating but not dating", which is basically exactly what we were doing. We spent alot of time together. I would go to her dorm after class and we would watch movies and just goof off or do whatever. We enjoyed time together.

Error #1: So cliché. So, so cliché.

So Valentine's day rolls around, and she asks 'the question'.

So something in biology: There is a term called "Once an animal has the taste of blood, they will always hunt for it." Unfortunately, humans can sometimes be considered a sub-species of the animal kingdom.

Like the dumbass that I am, I accept to the terms and conditions.

And at the end of the night, she asks: "So are we officially dating now?"

"I...I guess?", I answered nervously.

Errors #2 to #457: Not escaping

And just like that, I was suckered into nearly 2.5 years of having a FWB while having to, very creatively at times, mask it as a legitimate relationship.

We enjoyed the time we spent together.

We enjoyed going places together.

My mum liked her, her parents liked me. (Dad was skeptical at best and thought I could do better)

The small issue: I struggled to communicate at times. I didn't know how to find my voice, so there were times that I would have to text her how I felt. Sometimes I would hide in a corner just so I could cry. (I later learned of my autism, and it all made sense and I learned how to resolve this)

The big issue: I was completely burned out on intimacy. After almost 2.5 years of emulating laboratory rabbits, I was done. My usefulness had expired.

The biggest issue: We were both suffering academically. We had no common interests at all anymore, and we had put eachother ahead of our own academics so much that we were both risking academic expulsion.

So we mutually agreed to break up.

She dropped out of university (and never went back or finished her schooling), and I changed majors twice before getting my Bachelor of Science.

My first relationship lasted from June 2009 to April 2010.

My second "relationship" lasted from February 2011 until May 2012 (Although we started spending time together in significant amounts starting August 2010)

I have not had a girlfriend since May 2012.

I had one friend in my senior year of college, who gave me some non-physical affection while also keeping me firmly locked in the friendzone. But quality time, by itself, only goes so far.

I have not had any physical affection since May 2012.

I have not spent quality time with a female since May 2013.

For most of that time, from May 2013 to August 2019, I really didn't mind it at all. I have been so tied up in working, hobbies, and life in general, that I completely ignored women.

But as my birthday loomed near in October 2019, it donned on me....I was on a crash course to being eternally lonely.

So I have tried online dating. I have gone on a few first dates, but no second dates.

Sometimes, I want to give up. The fight just doesn't seem worth the reward.

And honestly?

Sometimes I feel exactly like my friend's remarks at the top of this post. Sometimes I wish I would have been a little more rebellious, a little more care-free, a little more out-there.

But at the same time, ...

Sometimes I wish that neither relationship would have ever happened.

That I would have never learned the true definition of intimacy.

That I would have never done whatever it took to make the other person happy.

That I wouldn't have been such an easy push-over.

That I would have stuck to my initial pledge in life

That I would have spoke up more and defended myself.

All I am now, is damaged product.

I don't truly know how to love.

I don't truly know how to feel.

I don't truly know how to be myself.

I don't truly know how to be intimate.

I am human, I am male, so of course I have my moments. But I don't want that to be the reason for a relationship. I want it to be the least-important factor, or not a factor at all.

I want a relationship founded on trust, honesty, fortitude, common interests, personality, maybe even a little faith.

Not intimacy.

I just want to not be invisible, or to only have one attribute visible.

I want to be seen for all the other attributes.

I am not A-sexual. I still feel emotions and feelings. I just don't want to let them out of the locked box which contains them. Not without lots of context and preparedness.

[odissey061]

Motonari's route

Chapter(s) posted:

1. This freak won't have me

2. Kick him in the teeth

Please, teach me a better way to create link because I can't do it by myself

Chapter 3: This trick never worked at human's memory

Tag: @towa-no-yume @r-f-a-journalists

When I open my eyes the first thing I feel is an acute headache: the hands run through the hair until I discover a bump. I press it to see if I feel the pain and then I whimper like a baby: it hurts a lot. Why I'm so stupid? I take a look around me and I notice I'm in a cold and empty cell. The room is surrounded by three wooden walls and before me there's an iron grille. Here and there on the floor against the wall there are spooky chains that make me chill and smile nervously. At this moment I heard the rolling waves and I understand I'm on a ship.

Where I am? How many time has passed since my kidnap? I must return to the Oda right now! A lot of hours passed since I left Azuchi castle: I told to Hideyoshi I'd come back after lunch, so probably they have already noticed my absence.

I try open the door but, obviously, is locked and I look around to find something to force the look, but the room is empty, except the chain on the wall. Then I took a clip from my hair and, holding it tight in the hand, I pray:"At human memory this trick never worked, but, please, if there's even the littlest chance, make it happens". Great, now I pray to objects like they were gods!

I plug the clasp in the door lock but, as I expected, it doesn't work. Pushed by despair, I retry again and again, but after a large number of failed attempts and swears, finally I give up and I lean my back on the wall. A man appears in front of me: he's very tall and his body is made by tons of muscles, his eyes shining with malice. With a look I understand this man is a brute and he doesn't hesitate to use violence and if I had to fight against him, I'd probably die. "Who are you and why I'm here?" I demand, but he laughs dryly:"I'm the one who makes the questions here, little girl" and he opens the door. As he spoke, I recognize him as the man who kidnapped me. He enters in the cell and leaves open the door. I try to gain more time:"I understand why you kidnapped me: I'm very close to the Oda commanders and your boss wants information about them", Well, at least you are not stupid, that makes easier my work. So little girl, talk about your friends" he comments. "The problem is exactly about this: you see, I'm only their maid and I don't know anything about their future moves, so keep me here is useless" I lie and I walk towards the door. But the man grabs my hair, making me moan for the pain and yells at me:"You think I'm so stupid to believe you? I'm not a fool! In Azuchi people say Nobunaga brought you to battle on his horse  His voice becomes lower, still being threatening:"If you don't tell me spontaneously all you know about them, I'll make you confess with the bad manners". And when he shows a bag full of torture instruments and I'm terrified. I don't know very much about torture, but I can imagine how much they'd hurt my body. I want to scream for help, but I know nobody will save me. My face gets paler. I know already how this will finish: this man will torture me until I speak, but I don't know anything, so he'll kill me for nothing. I'll die for anything!!

"I'm not his lover: I'm his maid and I have been staying in Azuchi for a few days. I don't know anything about them and if I knew something, I surely won't talk to you" I repeat using a quiet voice to not make him angrier. "Bad answer" he smiles sadistically, almost happy about my resistance and slaps me so violently to turn my head. "Try again, little girl, but the next time I won't so merciful".

"And if I don't confess what are you going to?" I bravely provoke him. The Oda forces helped me a lot and I won't betray them for my own safety. "I'll break all of your bones and if you won't talk, then I'll cut the tendons of your hands and your feet. If you still won't confess I'll remove your eyes, then I'll tear your ears and finally I'll cut your tongue" his threats scare me a lot, but I won't give up my loyalty. He takes from the bag a strange object and he places it near to my nails.

No no no no. Please, somebody help me!

I close the eyes too scared to watch, but at that moment I hear a new voice:"Yoshitoko, what are you doing here? I'm sure the captain hasn't told you to torture this girl since he is out to collect information with a few men. So I wonder: whose order are you following?". I open my eyes and I see a young man who's throwing diggers with the glare at the man in front of me. The newcomer is younger than this man, but somehow the eldest has to obey him. "The captain is still a child, quartermaster: if all of us wait for his command, we'd have alredy died. He doesn't know what to do and he's not able to keep the promise he made" he growls, "He's the captain, not you: he knows what's the best for us better than you. You are only able to hurt people and torture them, for this reason you won't be a captain. Now leave, Yoshitoko" The man speaks with a rough voice and I can feel the subtle threat he silently implies. I except a Yoshitoko's reaction, but he obeys whispering something.

Left alone, the young man is more relaxed walks towards me and I step back, so he reassures me:"I don't want to hurt you. I want to check your wound". I let him check my arm. I groan for the pain when he tries to move it. He looks more friendly than his colleague, so I try to ask:"Can you tell me who are you and how many days passed since my kidnap? Will you torture me again to seek information I don't have?". He sighs: "The arm is broken, now I call a doctor so he can help you better. Now you are on a pirate ship and you were kidnapped by Yoshitoko yesterday, following captain's order. Now the captain is away, but in a short time he'll be back and will decide what to do about you". "Earlier I said the truth: I don't know anything about Nobunaga's future plans. Keep me here he's useless" I whisper, "Even if you don't know anything you'll probably stay here as a political hostage to be used against your friends" the man explains my situation. The sadness overwhelms me to the thought I'll be used against my friends: I can't do this to them. "But as I told you is the captain to decide, so he could even release you" he tries to reassure me, but I have no illusions: if I were in his position I'll do the same. I even realize probably I won't be able to go back to my time. No way this will happen! The man says they wait for their captain, so it means the ship is still in the port: that makes my escape more easily. The man is inside the cell and the grill is open: all I have to do is run and don't be caught. But the pirate in front of me is still vigil even if he's more relaxed, surely is ready to catch me and even I'd beat him he'll give the alarm. No, escape at this moment is too risky but if I don't do it right now later would be impossible.

The only thing I can do is talk with the captain: I'm even ready to beg for my release, it's necessary. "The captain will be here in a few hours, so be more patient" he ends the conversation. "What kind of man is your captain?" I wonder, "The captain? Is an edgy man. He treats with respect his subordinates, but he doesn't trust anyone except me on this ship. Is the type of person who can be your friend but he stabs you in the back some minutes after" he responds. So he's a bastard and the possibilities he'd let me go are very low.

* * *

It's almost evening and Hideyoshi is worried: y/n told him this morning she'd have gone in the city until lunchtime, but she didn't come back. He asked around but nobody was able to tell him where y/n was. He alerted Nobunaga who decided to hold a war council to find her. Hideyoshi expresses all of his worry and Mitsunari takes word with a stern look on his face:"I'm quite worried as well, Lord Hideyoshi. We should look after her". 

"Maybe she escaped after she went to war, after all, was her first time on a battlefield. I won't be surprised" Mitsuhide suggests with his cunning tone, but a more careful eye can see a glimpse of worry. In the past days, he went to some places with a very horrible reputation and in a red light district and he noticed a lot of Portuguese men who acted too much secretive for being simply merchant. They were really cautious: they gazed around before speaking with someone and once Mitsuhide risked revealing his true identity. Just today he succeeded to talk with a man after days of failures, but what he discovered was suspicious arms traffic. He didn't discover anything about y/n's missing. And the possibilities she's been kidnapped are not low. "My lucky charm is not a coward, Mitsuhide: she proved it during the war"       

Nobunaga scolds him, "Then I suppose we should look after her" snorts Ieyasu. "As if you hadn't done it before, before" teases Mitsuhide: Ieyasu's contrarian reactions are always a delight for him.

"Lord Ieyasu is always so kind" Mitsunari praises him. Ieyasu scolds him:"I told you I wasn't searchi-", "Enough! Each of you will send your own scouts in the city to collect information" Nobunaga stops the discussion. Once the council ends, all the warlord obey to Nobunaga orders, sending men in the city and its surroundings with the order to search for y/n and arrest everyone look suspicious. But as time passes, nobody finds y/n.

[mummified-game-review]

Babysitter Bloodbath: A Review

My D&D group said my microphone was super quiet in the last session since I've moved my computer around. Let's see if it affects my recording.

Alright here we go! Back at it again with another video. Sorry about the long vacation but I had some troubles getting the review done on the 22nd and then my motivation to make videos while on the road was lacking. I thought I could play one game on the plane, and write a review for one as well. But there was no way I was going to be able to write as efficiently as I could. For an hour. So I just played a lot of Roller Derby Disco Dodgeball. Then I had a car ride. I could have played another game and written a review while sitting in the passenger seat. But again that didn't happen. And neither did that happen on the way back home as well.

I think It was a good idea to just turn off all of this “work” that I do for the weekend. Being able to focus on having fun and not worry about making videos for a little bit. And I wasn't ready to come back to these videos quite yet so I took the rest of last week off and now I'm back and ready to get right into making these videos again.

Thank you for sticking around.

Anyway, Welcome back to Mummified Games today we are going to be talking about the Homage Horror game Babysitter Bloodbath. By Puppet Combo and Pig Farmer Games

Oh right that's why I wasn't able to get the video out on the 23rd. Cause this game sucks.

Okay let me explain my experience with this game real quick.

So back on the 23rd of July I was going to sit down and play this game and give it a good fair shake at what this game gives.

Okay this is cool retro horor style. I like what the game has going on with the herd camera angles, sort of giving it a classic horror film style mixed with a Resident Evil 1 vibe. Cool cool cool.

I thought it was funny that you can still spin the character in some of the cut scenes. That's silly.

The controls or the way that we navigate through the dialogue is a bit annoying.

So the game can be played almost exclusively with just the WASD keys and Spacebar. Walk Sara forward or backwards with W and S, and then turn her left and right with A and D. Look at things or interact with the Spacebar. All basic things.

Not the best controls, you can't move Sara as easily as compared to modern 3rd person games. But its indi and sometimes less than perfect controls can add to the gameplay and make it a more interesting experience.

The problem comes up whenever you have to make a selection in the game like saying yes and no, or conversation stuff at the start of the game. Then you can only use the mouse to make your decisions.

And the controls are mostly hands off the mouse because it also is used to control her turning and direction. So you don't want your two hands messing up where Sarah is looking or walking.

So most of the game was me playing one handed with my right under my chin sort of holding up my head. But then I would need to select something and I would have to shift my body and refine the mouse and make the selection.

A bit annoying when I could just use W and S to move the choices up and down and space to select what choice I want to make.

I'm not a developer so maybe this is a hard thing to do.

The parents leave you with the kid and they give you a number of where they can be reached. There are numbers you're expected to remember so maybe actually right it down.

The gameplay starts after this and it's fairly linear in its tasks it asks you to do. Turn on the TV, Pick up the phone, Go get a boy's number from your coat, Catch Billy, Call the boy, feed Billy cereal, get the key to the liquor cabinet, grab some boose. It's like making a star pattern all over the house.

If you’re checking everything you might find the radio and turn it on and find a new broadcast talking about how there is an escaped dangerous mental patient.

And eventually surprise surprise there is a weird sound outside and Sarah asks the boy she called over to go check it out for her.

AND THAT'S WHEN MY GAME CRASHED!

What an absolute joke!

And so friends that when my troubles with getting a video out on the 23rd started. It was about 40 minutes into a recording when I would have had to start all over again from the start.

Now this isn't entirely the game's fault. Yes there is a save feature. But it wasn't like i did a lot yet to get to this point there was no danger yet and knowing what i know now about what would come next in the game an event would have triggered that would have caused me to go save right after this.

But that's something I noticed about the game after I came back and tried to play it again after my vacation. There’s a tape that you can pick up and put into the VCR to Save your progress.

BIG COMPLAINT RIGHT HERE!

When you get the VCR you need to have the cassette to save. Well that's nothing. It's just on the desk next to the TV. It’s right there no big deal there are lots of games that need you to go do something before you can “turn on the global data history program”. Some games have silly things like this. But the problem is that once I picked it up and I used it to save the game, If I came back later Like i Did on my second play though it said I needed to get another tape to make another save.

WHAT!!!!! THE AUDACITY To make something like a save feature be a collectible thing its a JOKE! Not to mention that I've scrubbed this house from top to bottom and there are no other cassettes in this house. I have no idea what I need to do to make the game save a second time.

That's absolute bull!

So l eventually the power was cut and I had to make my way outside and see what happened.

A high stress moment happens and now i'm forced to run away and every five steps the camera is changing and it's impossible to navigate. NOT TO MENTION THAT I'M BEING CHASED BY A KILLER WITH A KNIFE!

I'm banging on the door and it's locked.

Nowhere to go trapped on the porch with a killer cause it took me forever to get there. And now I'm dead.

Okay.

Did i mention that this game is incredibly dark and hard to see anything. Most of the recording I had the same brightness settings I've had for all these game reviews but for this to be able to see anything I cracked up the recording brightness.

So its dark can't see I'm dead and now to start over half way thought this stupid babby sitting situation. Great!

Make cereal again, turn on the tv again. EVERYTHING ALL OVER AGAIN! Because I used my one save too early in the game.

Eventually I set the camera from the weird movie mode to the 3rd person camera to make things easier to move around with.

And kept my hand on the mouse just in case.

I went back to the VCR and I couldn't save after the light went out PROVING MY POINT THAT You only get one save!

You can't pick up the axe

Press the action over and over and I'm dead again.

THIS IS BROKEN!

Okay so the clear thing to do is go back in and use the one save I have to save just before I go outside to investigate and see the killer for the first time. Save just before the boss battle right.

I've got everything down on what to do and where to go so this should be real quick just need to start a new game right?

Standard intro that always plays, walk up to the house, ring the doorbell, and

Sarah “Billy, I need you to run and find somewhere to hide. Do it!” and i'm back at the start of the game no milk spilled on the floor. Billy isn't running around the house. I didn't have a conversation with the parents about staying home.

It's like it's a new game and yet Billy is missing yet the father is stuck by the entrance.

Great, the game broke again.

That's it. I've given this game a fair shake. I've played the game for an hour and a half and the game crashed 3 times. Has a bad save feature, slow controls. And since I never played old horror games or Watched old horror movies I have no special feelings about this.

If you already have this from a bundle then give it a shot since you already paid money for it.

If you think you can have a better time and you want to give it a whirl then by all means its your money.

But if this game looks interesting and you were thinking of giving it a shot then maybe don't or go find another game. Maybe one of the other 3 horror games they made is better.

As for those of you who have played it let me know what you thought of it. If you have experience with games like this or if this is a good Homage or not.

If you haven't played the game, I'm almost scared to ask, but what other horror games are out there that you think I should try. Let me know in the comments.

In the meantime. Maybe I’ll just watch someone else play this and see how they played the game. And figure out if they found some sort of trick to playing this game.

You all do the youtube dance, Like, comment Sub, bell and let me know what you thought down below.

And as always Babysitters of the world

Keep digging and we’ll make it out sometime

See you in the next one.