#its the paradox of so desperately needing someone to notice that that youre not okay. to acknowledge your suffering

[demento-mori]

[whump-a-la-mode]

Could you do a car or motorcycle chase where the hero is chasing villain on an icy road? Villain spirals off the road and gets into a bad accident. Hero cares for them and Villain wakes up in pain with hero as comfort

Oooh, I really like this one! I’ve never really written much with vehicles (and if my writing doesn’t make it obvious, I’ve never been on a motorcycle) so I hope this is good. Thank you for the prompt!

CW//Motorcycle crashes, hit by a car, broken legs, non con medication, strong language, pills

Tires spun against asphalt, struggling to grapple the slick road below. When at last the motorcycle gained enough friction, it lurched forth, beginning to screech down the street. The engine screamed with effort, but its throttle was pushed ever further.

Every vibration rattling the tires was funneled directly to the vehicle’s rider, threatening to shake them from their secure position in the saddle.

Villain gritted their teeth, twisting the throttle even as it growled in protest. On either side of the street, trees turned to blurs of color, unable to be distinguished from one another. But they were still not going fast enough.

They knew, as they could still hear the other engine behind them. The other machine was larger, bulkier, but altogether slower, giving Villain the advantage of speed.

But, at the moment, that was the only advantage they had.

The heist had been meant to go off without a hitch. They’d spent weeks planning it, weeks huddled away, bribing security guards and hackers alike, until they were certain that their prize was theirs.

The prize that the heroes had stolen from them. Their motherfucking staff. Locked away in a museum under more security than the president. An ‘artifact of villainy.’

Every variable had been accounted for. Every schedule tracked, every floorplan studied with ruthless intent. The plan had to be perfect, foolproof.

Villain had heard on the news exactly what the heroes planned to do to them if they were ever caught in the act again. They shivered at the thought.

They had been so sure. So sure that the scheme was impeccable.

But an unaccounted for tripwire, a lost intern, a clumsy drone, and they’d been thrown into a world of alarms and blaring red lights.

Now, they couldn’t care less about the staff, left behind where it was in its glass case. What mattered was saving their own hide.

With straining muscles and aching hands, Villain twisted the throttle, feeling the engine lurch before them as it coughed a cloud of exhaust.

The corner was wide-- even at their speed, they should have been able to make it without difficulty. Slowing down was too big of a risk. They hit it full speed.

Black ice.

Their motorcycle’s tires howled as they failed to grip asphalt, finding only air and ice in its wake. In desperation, Villain yanked the handlebars, struggling to turn-- but only managed to send their vehicle into a tailspin.

They held tight, bracing, bracing. But they were slowing, gaining control, gaining traction.

They were okay. They weren’t going to be captured!

Villain was so relieved that they didn’t notice the truck.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

When Villain jolted upwards, they screamed.

Even as their eyes snapped open, their mind refused to process any sensations. Any sensations other than pain. Electric, agonizing pain, overtaking every sense. Filling their ears, their eyes, their mouth.

Their lungs. They couldn’t stop gasping, even as more than enough air flooded their trachea.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. Lay back down.”

The voice seemed to come from the aether-- a million miles away. It was not pain, and thus their mind deemed it insignificant. Villain hardly even felt the hands, pressing on their shoulders, forcing them onto their back. They struggled, jerking about frantically, but their stupid body wouldn’t reply.

“Down. You need to stay down.”

The voice disappeared a moment, leaving with the sound of footsteps, before returning with an even more urgent tone:

“This will help with the pain. Open your mouth.”

No! Pills... someone was trying to give them pills. Where were they? They shook their head violently, but only managed to increase their own agony. Who was this!

The heroes. They’d been captured and- this was torture. They’d hurt them already, shattered their body into a million pieces, and now they wanted to make it worse. Whatever those pills were, they weren’t going to help with anything.

If only they could see through the pain, see what horrible prison they’d been placed inside.

“You need these.” The voice insisted- it was familiar.

A shiver wracked their body.

“Hero...” Villain groaned. Yet, before they could close their mouth, a thumb had already jabbed between their teeth.

Shit.

They struggled to bite down, move their head, anything that would allow them to block the intruding finger from their lips, but it was no use. They could hardly even move. Maybe that’s what the pills were doing. Holding them down, forcing them still. Paralyzing them.

With their struggles in vain, there was nothing to prevent the chalky pills from being deposited onto their tongue. But they wouldn’t swallow, they wouldn’t. Hero couldn’t force them to.

A second object was forced to their lips-- the ring of a water bottle. Liquid flooded their mouth, and before they could spit, their jaw was forced close, their chin tipped upwards.

Villain whined, jerking as much as their weakened body would allow. The feeling of water in the back of their throat sent their gag reflex on overdrive, but the firm hand under their chin would not allow them to spit out the liquid. They lasted perhaps ten seconds before the discomfort became too much to bare. Shivering at the horrible taste, they swallowed.

The hand released its grip, retreating.

“I’m sorry.” Hero sighed. There was no mockery to it-- somehow, they’d managed to make their apology sound genuine. “But you’ll start feeling better, any second now.”

Better. Yeah, right.

Yet, after a few moments of pause, they felt it. The warm numbness, first reaching the tips of their digits, before flooding their chest, and, at last, their legs.

Their legs. That’s where the pain was coming from-- with it lessened, they could now pinpoint the source.

And, they could see.

“Fuck you.” Villain prefaced, before prying open their heavy eyelids. In all respects, they expected something extreme. Either the blinding sterile illumination of a hospital, or the dim, single lightbulb of a torture chamber.

But, there was neither. Instead, the room was bathed in a soft, warm yellow that paradoxically made them terribly tired.

Where were they?

They scanned the room, looking for whips, chains, scalpels, but found only...

Couches.

A few of them, backed up against beige walls, separated by nightstands rendered of white wood. Turning their head as much as they could manage, they looked back on themself.

Villain, too, was on a couch-- legs laid out on an ottoman before them. Both of them, wrapped in heavy, immovably plaster.

“Wh-” They parted their lips.

“You need to keep your voice down.” Hero spoke. Their voice was so... coaxing. Where was the malice? The venom? “They don’t know you’re here.”

“Where...”

“My house.” They admitted.

“Y...”

“We can talk about it later. Right now, what you need is rest.”

“No.” Villain’s voice came out as a snap, fatigued as they were. “I- I need to go. Let me go!”

“I have no intention of harming you.” Deep in their tone were laden seeds of pity. “You’re hurt. I can tell, you can hardly stay awake, now.”

Was it really that obvious?

“I’m fine. I need to go! Please, please, don’t hurt me.”

“No, no.” The seeds had sprouted into blooms of pitiful coaxing. “You got hit. A pick up. They said you’re incredibly lucky, that you didn’t hit your head. I don’t want to hurt you. But you need to sleep.”

“I’m not going to be your prisoner.”

“You’re not anyone’s prisoner. I’m just trying to help.” They sighed. “But if you want to make this difficult, then I have sleeping pills, too..”

“No! No.”

“You’ll go to sleep?”

“...Fine.”

“Good.”

“I’ll... I’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Mhm.”

“Will you be here?”

“Yeah. I’ll be just over there, okay?”

“Okay.”

As Villain allowed themself to fall into unconsciousness, the last words that slipped from their fatigued lips were:

“Fuck you.”

[cassiecasyl]

to be or not to be hugged

prompts: whumpay day 2: touch starved/touch repulsed + day 11: don’t touch me/don’t leave me

tw: panic attacks, nightmares 

credit for the title goes to @official-wayward-fairchild <3

read on ao3! 

Peter knew something was wrong. He was reminded of it everytime someone hugged him, hell, he was reminded every night. It was in the way his mouth filled with this ashen taste that’s just a little too close to the rusty dust of Titan whenever someone hugged him. The touch infected him with dread and panic, with screams and battle sounds, with memories. His spider senses yelled at him in precaution and Peter tensed everytime, even though he knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. He was just overreacting. 

The first time it happened, he’d almost pushed May into a wall, had almost hurt her. He’d apologized profusely, his hands shaking, guilt rushing through his veins, but May had laughed it off. Yet, the worried glance she’d sent haunted him. 

Worst of all were the flashes—when a simple touch brought him back to Titan, more powerful than Dr. Strange’s portals could ever be, and he’s fading into dust, again and again, and Tony looked so broken and as scared as he was (though they’d both tried and failed to hide it), and he’s begging for his life, for Mr. Stark to fix this like he always did—I don’t wanna go—while at the same time, he’s in the supposedly safe arms of a loved one. It was twisted torture in its on way, and Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of one of the stories Loki had told about the time he had been under Thanos’s regime. 

They’d promised him might like he deserved, promised him everything he ever dreamed off, and then mixed it with obedience. Suspected him to pain and fire, sometimes ouf of fun—Loki said he got that—and sometimes framed as a test. His already shattered mind had been broken once more. There was a sense of belonging there, with the false love they gave him and the chaos they promised. The mind stone deconstructed and built him up again. Chaos was his element more than ever. 

Maybe, he was being tested too, Peter mused. He died, after all, and now he wasn’t sure whether he still belonged into this world, with everybody finding someone new and moving on. May had Happy, Tony had Morgan and Harley, even Ned and MJ felt aeons away. No. Peter chided himself for ever taking this analogy. His misery was nowhere close to Loki’s agony. 

Yet, Peter was living a paradox. 

He stopped hugging. It hurt too much and had the tendency to rip him from reality, so he just stopped. There’s a few raised eyebrows and concerned looks at first, but they eventually succumbed to normalcy. 

“Would you like to notify Boss or try any of the 173 tactics of falling asleep I've collected, Peter?” Friday asked for what must’ve been the upteenth time, shocking him out of his thoughts. He shook his head in a sigh. 

“No, Friday. I’m fine,” he answered, lamenting his dismissive tone. She just wanted to help, there was no need to be so rude to her. “Sorry,” he mumbled. The word got half-caught up in a yawn, and he wanted to kick himself for it. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t tired. Peter knew it was late, and even his bones felt heavy with exhaustion, but he just couldn’t sleep. Not while he was at the Tower. He’d been successful in hiding his nightmares from May, but there was no way he’d be able to do so with Tony. Least of all when he had a perceptive AI on his side. Scratch that, two perceptive AIs. He’d almost forgotten about Karen, but he knew if he asked her for company, she’d eventually report him to Tony. Sleepy Spider Baby Protocol, or however it was called. 

Peter sighed. He was so tired. He just wanted to feel safe.  

~~~

Red sand tickled his throat, and the wind began nibbling at his feet as he stumbled forward. Soon, he’d join the sand, dust to dust, like it had happened countless times before. At this point, he was more scared than confused. He knew what would happen. He just didn’t know why. 

Peter looked up, his eyes scanning the battle field for his mentor. He had to be here somewhere. He always was. In panic, he turned around, ignoring how his toes disintegrated with the movement. Had he died? It happened before. Thanos’s stab always seemed worse in his dreams. But he couldn’t even find a body on the ground. He was all alone. Did he leave him? Did the wind already take them away, leaving him to die alone? He choked on a sob. 

“Peter?” A voice asked behind him, scared and tentative. Tony. The teen spun around, and more fell than ran towards him. The man was perched on the ground, holding his guts together. He was crying. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered in a plea. Tony looked up at him, but he was looking right through him, as if he was already mourning. His features aged momentarily, his hair turning grey and wrinkles closing in on pained eyes. A quiet, hopeful and sad smile adorned his face, the same one with which he sometimes watched Morgan. Peter could feel himself fading. 

The boy crumbled before Tony, reaching out to him in a desperate cry for comfort. “I’m sorry,” he said, right before his vocal cords left him. At the last moment, Tony’s fingers grazed his, and in horror Peter watched as the dusting didn’t stop with him, but extended to Tony, moved up his right arm and eventually his face. 

Peter lost his eyes before it was over. 

He woke up with a start, eyes wide but unseeing. They were still gone, dusted, he’d be dead again, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The air escaped him between sobs and panic. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, breathe, Peter, I’m here, it’s alright.” Suddenly, there was comfort. Peter blinked, and instead of complete darkness, shadows started to emerge. 

“Tony?” he asked, hope tearing through his throat. 

“I’m here, kid,” he promised. It was all the invitation Peter needed, and he shot forward, latching onto the older man. He breathed in the scent of motor oil and iron that never quite left Tony, and he was home. His heart beat faster than normal, but it beat, sometimes stumbling in a familiar way, and that was all that mattered. Tony was here. For the first time in a long while, his spider senses remained quiet. They were safe. 

“Shh, it’s okay, kid,” Tony shushed him, gently rocking them as they sat on Peter’s bed. “I’m here,”—Peter tightened his grip at the words—”I’m alive, we’re both alive. We’re in your room at the Tower and it’s 4:14 am on a Saturday morning. It’s raining lightly outside, can you hear that, Pete?” 

The spider stilled, focusing his senses on the weather outside. He panicked slightly as Tony’s heartbeat quietened, but his hand fisted around the hem of Tony’s shirt, and Tony’s constant assurances of it’s alright grounded him. Soon, his ears picked up the light pitter-pattern of rain. Peter nodded. 

“Good!” Tony praised as if he’d just done the most amazing thing in the world. Without him noticing, his breathing had calmed. The air wasn’t evading him as it was before. Tony’s arms around him were warm and safe and Peter sighed in content. He missed this. God, how he’d missed this. 

Tony’s hand found his, the one that was hanging onto the neck of his shirt, and covered it. Peter’s eyes widened as he remembered a flash from his dream. No. He couldn’t infect Tony. He couldn’t let him die, not again. Never. Peter coiled away from the touch suddenly and violently, ragged breaths returning. There was already dust in his lungs. No. 

Tony followed him, but Peter fell to the ground as he hastily retreated, leaving his mentor standing there with raised hands signaling that it was alright. It wasn’t though. He’d infect him, and the dust would find him again, travel up his arm, take him away. It was in his name after all, wasn’t it? He petered out, faded gradually until there was nothing left, until his existence came to an end. He couldn’t spread that to Tony. 

“Peter?” The man crouched down before him, slowly as if he was a scared animal. Peter shook his head. “What’s wrong, buddy?” he asked, hands reaching out. 

“Don’t,” Peter pleaded, recoiling from his mentor’s safe hands. Oh, how he craved their warm embrace. But he couldn’t. He’d kill him. “Please don’t,” he cried, “I’ll infect you.” 

“Okay,” Tony breathed, “okay. Infect me with what?” 

“Dust,” Peter answered with a hiccup. At Tony’s puzzled expression, he elaborated: “I’m dust, and it’s gonna spread to you. It’s in my name.” 

“Oh, kid.” Peter could practically see how a part broke away from Tony’s heart and fell down. That’s how it started, he thought, reminding himself of videos he’d seen of mountains eroding under water. “You’re not dust, not anymore,” he said, searching the room for something, “I brought you back, remember? I wouldn’t bring you back half-baked, Peter. All or nothing, that’s the deal.” 

The kid nodded, still watching him with big eyes. He mustered the veins of scar tissue raking up his right cheek, and suddenly his dream made sense in a different way. Still, he wouldn’t wanna test it. He couldn’t kill Tony too. He wasn’t worth two of his father figures dying, let alone three. 

Tony stood up and fear gripped Peter. He had enough of him. He’d realized the threat he was and would get himself to safety now. Only, that meant he’d leave Peter behind. “I’m not leaving, Pete,” Tony promised against his anxiety spouting lies, “I’m just getting something. See? I’m not even leaving the room.” He held up the water bottle Peter always kept on his bedside table to show him. 

He came back. Peter almost wanted to smile, but his dust-infected body was way too numb to do anything but watch. “Now, could you stretch your arm out for me?” Tony asked. Peter sucked in a panicked breath. “I’m not gonna touch you, I promise.” Slowly, Peter nodded. 

Cold water touched his skin as soon as he did what Tony asked of him, shocking him back into reality. “See?” the genius asked, “You’re solid. No dust here.” Peter nodded, blinking and staring at his hand, wet and still in one place. He looked up at Tony, who was smiling assuringly. 

“Solid,” Peter repeated, the remains of the nightmare slowly leaving his body. “I’m solid,” he laughed. 

“That’s right, Pete,” Tony praised, his hands switching towards him. He still slightly shied away from the possibility of touch though. His mentor fixed him with that concerned gaze, the one with which he could read him like no other, that implied that he was trying to figure out what bothered Peter. 

“Can I hug you?” he asked. Peter shook his head. It was tempting, but he wasn’t sure whether he was ready for that yet. 

“Rather not. Sorry.” Tony nodded, quickly hiding the sadness. 

“That’s alright. Thank you for telling me.” He stood up, mindlessly extending his arm to help Peter up, but then taking it back with a scolding shake of his head. Peter chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t think. So, anything else you wanna do? Catch some sleep, watch a movie?”—he glanced at the time—”Oh, what about a hot chocolate? Rhodey should be up by now ‘cause he has an early meeting or something, and he makes the best hot chocolate in the Tower.” 

Peter stood up with a laugh. “Hot chocolate sounds great.” 

“Hot chocolate it is then,” Tony confirmed with a warm smile.  “Friday, warn Rhodey if he’s awake, we’ve got a spider baby to pamper.” He left the room before Peter could object, and Peter quickly followed him. 

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed!)

@starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlock-who-mentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aixabi

[sortilegexix]

29 + 56 with jung wooyoung pls

jung wooyoung.

smut prompt drabble: paradox

29. “Take it off. Slowly.”

56. “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

a/n: implied smut...? it’s also longer than I expected, just the usual here ~

—

It was that day of the week, the day of excitement and recently, of confliction. How do you describe the situation when you miss someone so much, and not wanting to see him at the same time? Yeah, falling in love with your favored friend. You put your hair into a messy bun before grabbing some juice. Fingers tapping on your glass table nervously, glancing upon the clock hanging on your wall, 10:57pm. Exactly two minutes and 15 seconds away.

He was punctual, as always.

You had lost count of how many times you sighed today, you got up from the couch and opened the door for him. You were to speak up and say something but then you just didn’t. He didn’t seem to notice your gloomy mood. To have without holding, you were too selfish for that. A selfish person, pretty much sums up your state of mind right now.

“Wooyoung, I’m actually a bit tired today… I forgot to tell you that but, I don’t think we can do much today. So if you want to leave, you can leave now.”

You gave in to your inner demon,no, the inner angel and spoke up. As much as you would hate to have him left you here all alone on a cold night, you needed to do this. You were far too absorbed in this relationship that shouldn’t even begin in the first place, yet there you were, falling for the wrong person at the worst timing possible. Typical you.

“What? Are you feeling unwell? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Those were the kind words that made him extra cruel to you, no strings attached, yeah no strings attached your ass. He should be leaving the second you told him you felt ill, he should be telling you to meet next week, he should be a hormonal monster that only feeds your desire, not your emotions. That’s what a friend with benefits is for.

“No, I’m just exhausted, don’t really want to move much.”

You were surprised how you still managed to squeeze a response to him, eyes staring through him, into the light blue wall behind him. Okay, he would say “I will let you rest and I will come next week, goodnight.” in the next ten second or so. Or that was what you thought.

“That will do fine, you don’t have to move much. Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.” he had his signature smirk plastered on his face when he said that, grabbing your hand then pulling you towards his way.

You swore his smirk was something to die for. You gave in within seconds, how could you resist him? That’s right, you couldn’t.

“Come. y/n.” his mellow voice slithered its way into your ears, eyes closed, he pulled you into a slow but sensual kiss. He ended the kiss with a nibble on your bottom lip, showing a devilish grin as he took a step away. Then you realized you were already in your bedroom.

He took your hand in his, guiding you lazily to the bed. Your scent surrounded him, the set of plump pillows, the soft and smooth sheets, and you who was standing in front of him with a bland face. He was determined to entertain you tonight. Yes, he liked it when you were all desperate for him; he absolutely loved it when you beg for his mercy. But he didn’t want to force you into anything, and when you were sad, he couldn’t lift his spirits either.

Wrapping his arms around you, he ordered you to take your clothes off, one piece after another whispering into your ears. His breath tickled your sense, raspy voice hypnotizing your rationality. So you did as he said, of course you did.

“That’s right babygirl, take it off, slowly.”

You were basically doing a strip tease for him. Did you care? No, why would you? You enjoyed being the reason behind his smile, despite knowing it would eventually belong to someone that wasn’t you. It was a wonderful night, physically speaking. He actually stayed with you after, it was the first time.

He said he was what? Tired. So you capitulated, again. You knew how dangerous this was when you simply gave in to every one of his demands once he showed you that lovely smile of his, you should step away. But how could you reject him when he offered to cuddle you to sleep? That was all you ever wanted. It was so comfortable and warm in his arms to be condemning your weak mind instead of drifting into sweet dreams.

Too bad you missed the smile on his face when he put his arms around you.

—

I somehow have the magical power to transform smut prompts into not so smutty drabbles... I hope you still like this anon♥︎

all requests closed, send asks~

[sabrinamichele]

2019: The Year of Love, Love Lost, and Paris

     I know it’s time. Time to finally open up and talk about what’s been happening in my life. I know that I don’t have to share, but every time I try to move past it, I continue to feel drawn to share this. I know that in sharing this, like the countless times I have shared before, I will find myself better for having opened up. So, to be clear—this is not a completely selfless act—but it doesn’t make sharing it any easier. So, I’m ready to talk about dating, about love, and the heart break that 2019 brought me. I feel strongly that I need to preface this piece with the understanding that these words, thoughts and feelings, while they are mine, I know that by sharing them I may hurt someone. My intention is not to be mean or to hurt someone, but by being so candid, and by sharing my truth, I recognize that I very well might. I think there will always be that risk, and if you are on the receiving end of that, I am sorry. With that said, I want to be as honest and real as I can, because this isn’t the space for fakeness, or for pretense. This is where real truths, even when they’re hard, come out and vulnerability is found. So, in the spirit of sharing, *takes a breath* here goes...

     While I have dated for the past five years, I have, for the most part, remained pretty mum on the details. This hasn’t been done because I didn’t want to share, but, more or less, because I frankly didn’t know how to. My dating/love life has often, in hindsight, felt like learning how to drive a car: definitely with its starts and stops, plenty of awkwardness, some wrong turns made, and so much to learn. (Yes, this analogy truly describes how dating as an adult for the first time in your thirties after being married for eleven years truly feels like. *laughs*) Needless to say, I did not know how to navigate it very well, let alone to start opening up about topics like dating, sex, love, and heartbreak. So, after five years later, I think I’m finally ready to share. To be clear—I absolutely do not have it all figured out. I am not perfect, and I definitely have made my fair share of mistakes (yup, still human). But I also finally acknowledge that that doesn’t mean I don’t have something valuable to share. I don’t know, frankly, what the sharing is going to look like, but I am ready to start. As I have with every single thing I have written here up until now, I share with the hope and intention that in doing so it might help someone else. I truly believe it’s this shared humanity—the realness and vulnerability that exists in sharing what is real in our lives, and often times hidden away—that this is so incredibly attractive, because it is so rare, and it’s also where real connection takes place. So, with that intention, I promise to be real, honest, and vulnerable as hell.

“The mark of a wild heart is living out the paradox of love in our lives. It’s the ability to be tough and tender, excited and scared, brave and afraid—all in the same moment.”

— Brené Brown, Braving the Wilderness

     When I think about the past five years, and trying to navigate dating, this quote feels so incredibly true and relevant in my life. The ability to, despite everything that has happened in your life up to this moment, meet the next moment and person with fresh optimism and hope for what might be. The ever-optimistic question of, “What if?”  Trust me when I say I know all too well what it is to be equal parts excited and scared. That is where I was a little over one year ago: Trying to date...again. Despite the heartache and the disappointment, and all the frustrations that go along with online dating—I was willing to try again because, deep down, I genuinely wanted to find someone, even if all my previous attempts had failed not ended the way I had hoped. Can I just take a moment to commiserate with anyone that’s reading this (male or female) who has also felt the pain and frustration of online dating? Yes, it can suck—and yes, people can suck—so you’re not alone in having mixed feelings about it (yes, I’m making some assumptions here, but I feel safe in making them). Goodness knows that I have had enough iterations with the dating apps, both love/hate, and moments where I swear “Never again!!” With that said, I think we can all—okay, fine—most of us can agree that they are a tool, and in today’s society of disconnection, they are a very helpful tool for connecting people; so, if you can get past the crap and frustration, they can be a positive. (Notice the emphasis on can here; I didn’t say they always are! *laughs*) This is at least the reason (and justification) for their reappearance in my life last year.

     This is how I started dating again, and how I met him—the man who would become my boyfriend last year. (Trying hard to not use names here—ever.) By and large, he was the most significant event last year—significant in many ways, but I think context helps to clarify why he was a significant event in my life. To back up a bit—dating has been incredibly hard for me in the wake of my divorce—there have been many men I have “dated,” in a sense, but often times I have, in the early stages of dating been too afraid of the labels, and the commitment, to even consider calling it a relationship, let alone calling someone my “boyfriend.” Before him, I have only had two relationships I could truly classify as truly “dating,” and only one I think would agree that we were boyfriend/girlfriend—exclusive, at the very least. Trust me—so many labels, so many new hurdles to navigate—so dating him was significant in that we both jumped in rather quickly, and also fell pretty quickly for each other. It was the first person, post my ex-husband, to tell me that he loved me, and to also ask me to be his girlfriend. I’m aware that, to many, that may sound cheesy, even juvenile, but here’s the truth: despite all the hurt and frustrations I’ve had with the opposite sex—deep down, I am a romantic at heart. A romantic with an insanely big heart who wants to fall in love again. (Yeah, I just admitted that.)

     So, I fell hard. I fell in love with all the firsts: the way it felt when I was around him—it felt exactly how it had, falling when you are young—the way you get excited to hear someone’s voice over the phone for the first time, the first time they hold your hand, the first kiss, the way they look at you...we were like two kids, and it felt incredibly special. I share all of this because I think it’s important to reflect—to look back and smile knowing I got to have that again, to experience having love, and a boyfriend, again...I want to be intentional in saying that because, if you’re like me, when something like that ends, it is incredibly easy to demonize someone, to focus on only the hurts, and to forget all of the good parts. I hope that you don’t.

     Suffice it to say, we did not last. Much like a candle that burns hard and bright, then just as quickly burns out...that was how we seemed to be, unfortunately. The man I fell in love with...well, I don’t know what happened to him, honestly. All the emotion, the vulnerability, and amazing connection I felt in the beginning, just...disappeared. I felt it most acutely on our first trip away together. I had been trying to communicate with him about it, without much success—and then the night before our trip, when I tried to talk to him about it again, the message I got back was, basically, “I don’t know what to tell you. This is how it’s going to be,” In my head, what I heard was something to the effect of, “Tough shit.” I was dumbfounded. I was trying to connect with him on this lack of connection, to discover the “why,” and met with, well, nothing. It was incredibly hard hearing that as we were about to go away for our first trip together. Trying to have a romantic weekend with someone who is not emotionally connected with you, or even trying to be, well...it’s a good recipe for a disaster, which is what that weekend was. I tried to make the best of it, but I found myself reminded of how disengaged my ex was with me and it, frankly, scared the shit out of me. In hindsight I wish I had had more courage. Courage to have a real conversation on the real disconnect we were having that weekend. But it felt like every time I tried, it was like trying to talk to someone who spoke Greek, and there was no place for understanding or vulnerability there. I came back not really knowing how to proceed, but knowing we definitely still needed to talk about it. After I made multiple attempts to initiate talking about it with him, I was met with only short texts back, and several blow offs instead of actually talking to me in the week following our trip. I felt miserable, sick to my stomach, and only an escalating sense of desperation to have this awful feeling end. I felt like I had been taken to this incredible high in our relationship, to then be dropped off the edge of an emotional cliff. Without a partner willing to communicate, who literally just disappeared after an uncomfortable first weekend away, I just felt desperate to have my pain end. Less than a week from my birthday, desperate to do what I thought was best, I ended it—after which I promptly bawled my eyes out. (Yeah. I’m being painfully honest here.) In hindsight, I can see that we weren’t meant to be, but the truth is, it, and he, still meant a lot to me. I have had well-meaning girlfriends even try to convince me that I didn’t actually love him, “No, not really.” Well I am here to say that I did love him, and that I don’t regret it. Any of it. As hard as that breakup was for me, I will always be grateful for loving him. I will always be grateful to have him show me what it should really look like...even if it didn’t last. To have someone show you that you are worthy of pursuing, worthy of going on romantic dates with, worthy of romance, and, ultimately, worthy of love...I am honestly grateful for all of it.

     With all of that said, the end of “us” left me in a very dark place for a time. I felt betrayed and I felt rejected. Rejection’s sting is something I am far, far too familiar with these past five years, but it always hurts more when I’ve invested more. I am not necessarily proud of how I chose to handle my hurt and pain this time, but I embraced that I was in a “dark and twisty place,” as I called it, and I set my intentions with men accordingly. I didn’t want anything more than something of a casual nature, which suited my needs, and my heart, just fine during this time. I don’t look back and applaud this; it was simply the way I chose to handle the hurt I was feeling at the time, and I want to be honest about that.

     If you’re still reading, I applaud you. My dating/love life is not for the faint of heart or those only inclined to read short stories. Without further ado, this is when someone new came into my life. I feel the need to pause and say that I do feel badly—he met me smack dab in the beginning of my “dark and twisty” phase—right as I had intended to not be with anyone in a romantic way, is when he met me. I told him as much the night we met, but the message still got filtered a bit through the lens of someone who I think, deep down, was hopeful for more. He and I were not friends, per se, but we were also not dating—because I was not interested in dating anyone in the dark place I was currently in—but I also found the previously used label of “friends with benefits” didn’t quite seem to fit either, so we found a label we could both agree upon, which was “lovers.” And we honestly enjoyed as much time as we could with each other in this space. For me, it was exactly what I needed in that moment. We enjoyed each other’s company, and we enjoyed many of the same things; we found a safety with each other—both in the sharing of our past, but also simply just by being together. I recognize this title implicitly says more than I ever have shared before about a relationship, and I’m okay with that. I am thirty-six years old and incredibly tired of living in the fear of talking about or not talking about sex. I was married eleven years, so I think it’s safe to say I am aware of what sex is—and it’s something I still engage in to this day. *laughing* I know that by sharing this, there will be some of my family/friends who are probably disappointed, but frankly? I’m not interested in filtering my writing anymore for fear of what you, or others may think (or not think). Enough said.

     I am a firm believer that people come in and out of our lives for a reason. With that said, I genuinely believe I was meant to have this man in my life. Even if it was unconventional and didn’t look like other relationships—it was still meaningful, even it if wasn’t meant to be for forever. I was very up front and honest with him about where I was at, day one, but it doesn’t mean that feelings didn’t get involved. If I’ve learned anything in my years of dating—it’s that it’s incredibly easy and natural for emotions and feelings to get involved where sex is concerned. I think we both knew that this was always a possibility, and we were both very honest with each other about what that would mean. I knew he was potentially moving out of the area soon, so it felt safe. Safe to let my guard down; safe to just be me; safe also because it was just so easy to be around him. But, with all of that said, I never felt that way about him. Even when I found feelings creeping in, I pushed them down not wanting to go there—we weren't supposed to go there, right? But, before I knew it, we were facing a point of no return—I had agreed to go out of state to a wedding as his plus one—and subsequently had made plans to go to Paris the day after we were to get back. The trip was going great, but somehow, without really seeing it coming, I found myself hearing him tell me that he was falling in love with me, and that he needed more. My heart ached in that moment. My heart ached because I knew I couldn’t say the words he would have liked to hear me say next, and that I couldn’t give him more. I have never taken those words lightly, and I didn’t then either.  The next day we flew back, and I had to face one of the hardest goodbyes I have ever had. It was hard because not only was it over, but I was also losing a friend—he couldn’t stay friends with me—and we had truly become close over those few months—my heart ached knowing I was losing that, but also for all the unspoken words I felt between us in that moment, “I’m sorry I can’t give you more. I’m sorry you met me here, in this dark place I’m at right now. I’m sorry I am not where you are at, at least not today.” So, I said goodbye, and I flew to Paris two days later.

     So, Paris. I flew to Paris, kind of spontaneously, with a man I had dated earlier in the year, and who I really liked. If I’m being honest, he was someone I had hoped (deep down) to have something more with someday. In hindsight it all feels like it was wishful thinking, but, at the time, I couldn’t help but feel excited and hopeful. A handsome man who I was interested in had invited me to join him in Paris and, on a whim, I had decided to say yes. I mean, how do you say no to that? Our first date was one of the most romantic I’ve ever been on, honestly. I was about to go to Paris for the first time earlier in the year and he had invited me to a French themed charity dinner, and the night ended with slow dancing (yes—slow dancing) in his living room. I know, it all sounds a bit hard to believe, maybe even a little nonsensical, but I genuinely believe that a big part of love is truly that—nonsensical. So, seven months later, I went to Paris for a second time, but this time, with him. I went to Paris, and I tried hard to keep my expectations in check, but it was hard for me to not find myself hopeful...for a spark, for more... I do not want to dwell on the details, but I will say that my overwhelming feeling from this trip was one of disappointment. I know that it’s not fair to compare, but for me, there was no way I couldn’t not compare them, having both trips so close in proximity to one another. While one man was so incredibly attentive, emotionally connected, and engaged—the other was the exact opposite. Perhaps, not at first...but as the trip went on, I was incredibly aware of it. It makes me sad, in hindsight—I was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and I felt more alone than ever being there with him. I felt like he didn’t emotionally connect with me most of our time together, which was a little surprising, but also left me at a bit of a loss, as I’m incredibly empathic to the people I’m around. I often felt a bit like I was walking around on eggshells being with him, unsure how to “just be” around him. It was not romantic. It was not about me. And my heart turned in on itself with the juxtaposition it found between my travel companions. I had hoped, foolishly so, to fall in love in Paris, and instead I was with someone who I realized was still in love someone else. I don’t say all of this to be hurtful, but to simply be honest. It was a painful and incredibly emotional week for me.

     But, somehow, even after all of this, my emotional week wasn’t complete. There was more waiting for me. Sitting in the Paris airport, waiting to come home, I was sitting next to my travel companion, filling the time while we waited to board the plane by mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when my eyes caught on two words, a name. His name. A man I have written about here before—the first man I fell in love with after my ex-husband. My brain was still registering seeing these two words again as my brain finally assimilated what it was I was seeing. It was a picture of the man I had fallen in love with proposing. My heart dropped. I sat there in shock, absorbing these pictures, these words—then I quickly closed the app—my brain’s obvious attempt at self-preservation. I sat there for about ten minutes before finally starting to cry—my partner sitting next to me completely oblivious to my tears or my pain. I have been asked, since then, why I cried...and it still baffles me how anyone could ask me “why?” But I will try to convey to you the “why,” even if it’s completely irrelevant.

     I cried because the man I fell in love with was proposing to someone else. I cried because he was, in every single way, exactly what I wanted—at least in that moment of my life. And even though I can look back on us and see just how much he didn’t deserve the love I had for him, it is irrelevant to the simple fact that I did...love him. I loved him in a way that I have never known before...connected with him in a way I had never known before. I cried because this hurt me—seeing this, as it should. But it was also necessary. I knew this was the moment I had to let it all go. To finally, somehow, find a way to forgive him—to let go of all the pain that had been inside me for far too long. That is one thing I will always be very grateful for. To the man that I would call my boyfriend, and the man I would call my lover—I realized just how much pain I had been living with, not just from my breakup, but from the men I had loved, but who, ultimately, hadn’t been right for me. I finally recognized this in moments I had been with my friend, my lover, and he would be asking me simple questions, and I would be reduced to tears in a matter of moments. It was embarrassing, but he also never made me feel bad or ashamed for it. I also had a moment of clarity, a few months later, in a conversation with my last boyfriend, finally talking about our breakup and how much his actions had hurt me. He said to me, “Don’t let me be the cause of your pain.” Those words resonated with me because of just how true they were for me. While I had done such a good job of not letting my divorce not define my life, to keep me from moving on and dating again, I had allowed these men, each heartbreak, to carry on in my heart—each hurt still there, right beneath the surface. I realized then and there I owed it to myself to finally forgive them, and to move on.

     While I haven’t figured it all out exactly since then (read: I’m still figuring so much out in this crazy life, especially now), I am proud to say that I came back from Paris and I finally forgave the man who broke my heart more than most. In writing this, I recognize that there is still room for forgiveness, for letting go, which I completely acknowledge. I am not perfect, and I’m still figuring this life out as I go, but I’m also incredibly proud of just how far I have come.

     I have loved, deeply. I have had my heart broken, and, sadly, I have hurt some hearts along the way. I am here, sharing this, to hopefully normalize that dating may not look the way you expect it to—it may be messy and unconventional—and you may make some mistakes (or a lot), and you may have your heart broken...but here’s also a beautiful truth: you get to decide what happens next. You.

So, in this moment, I am creating something new and I am trying to have a wild heart in dating. I am both hopeful, excited and scared...but above all, ready. I know what I bring, and I also know what I want. Dating is hard, but it’s also so much harder if you’re not ready.

When I wrote these words, almost a year ago now, I was in such a different place. I was actually ready to try to start dating again. Unfortunately, this year has not been the year for trying to date, at all. It’s been incredibly hard trying to pick this piece back up, to try and talk about something that’s happened so long ago now, but I also feel like I needed to. To give these words voice, even if I find myself in a space where I’m not optimistic about love or dating, as I was earlier in the year, pre-global pandemic. With that said, I still want to write about love. I still want to talk about what dating has taught me, even as I find myself in a particularly weird year for it.

With that said, the best advice I can offer, for the years of dating I have experienced, is this:

•    Know who you are, but also be comfortable, just as you are. You don’t need anyone to complete you or to make you happy. Trying to have someone fill this role won’t make you happy, ultimately.

•    Know that it’s okay to want someone—but not to “need” them to feel okay. You have to be okay, just you. You also have to love you, first, before anyone else can love you. Any attempts to shortcut this will leave you disappointed.

•    Try really hard to not grasp for someone or something, or to chase someone who has left of their own accord. I’ve had to learn this the hard way, and sometimes I’ve needed to be reminded, but it is a powerful truth. If they want to talk to you, they will. If they want to see you, they will ask. Try to not read between lines that aren’t there. Sometimes it really is that simple. You deserve someone that pursues you. Pure and simple.

•    Be honest and be kind. I think I’ve said this very yearly on in my writing, but it begs repeating. It does no one a service to tell them what you think they want to hear, let alone yourself. Always be honest (even when it is hard). And try to do so with kindness. Enough said.

•    Grace. If I had to leave you with one word, it would be this one. Have grace, and not just for others, but also for yourself. I know, for me, I need to have equal parts grace, both for others and for myself. It is so easy to allow my expectations of myself and others to put people on a pedestal. Pedestals are unrealistic, though, and people aren’t meant to be on them. Have grace for when people disappoint you, or for when you disappoint yourself. This beautiful adventure is called life. It’s going to surprise you and challenge you—and it’s not going to look how you had expected it to—ever! And that’s okay. Get comfortable in the uncomfortable—the not knowing.

     With all of that said, I end this post a little differently than pre-pandemic Sabrina would have. I always feel like I have to end things on a positive note. Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker for happy endings and naturally want there to be one. Pre-pandemic Sabrina ended this so full of hope, excited for a year full of as of yet unknowns and adventures. While this year has definitely held quite a few surprises, not all of which were bad, more than ever this year has tested us all and pushed us to many of our breaking points. I wish I could share something incredibly positive, something uplifting, or something exciting, but I’m afraid I just don’t have it. I think in the absence of that, the one positive this new space has left in my life right now is time to reflect, time to sit in the space created, just me. I’m getting comfortable, really comfortable, with just being me. It’s not easy, especially as I crave connection and companionship, but I also know, deep down, just how necessary it is. In this vacuum of time and space this pandemic has created, I’m learning how to truly love me, to learn the wounds I have yet to heal, and—probably the hardest yet—how to finally let go of not having a romantic relationship. It’s hard, and it can be scary, but I think it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. As scary as “giving up” has felt for me, I feel only stronger in who I am for having finally done it. I’m not giving up forever. But I am—for now. And I’m okay with that. In letting go, I feel that I have found the strength within me to face this, but also a feeling of peace about it. I genuinely don’t know what this next year will bring, BUT I can confidently say a stronger Sabrina will be here to face it. And for that, I am grateful.

[maidenxfmight]

i will not bow

Tagging: @ofcosmicwonder, @daisyquakes, @ofalexdanvers & Kara When: The day the siege started Where: Central Park What: Donna tries to buy time for Alex to cure Kara. Donna loses. But so does Kara. Warnings: Violence, injury.

KARA: It wasn't enough, it wasn't enough it wasn't–

Kara's feet hit the pavement with a resounding crack, bricks and dust lifting up around her. She'd always been so concerned with restraint; carelessness led to destruction. Destruction led to fear. At one point in time, that might have meant something to her. There were those who proclaimed her a god, not to which they should pray, but rather contain.

They were the same people who wrote slurs on signs and screamed "roaches go home" from street corners. The very park in which she stood had played host to protests and anti-protests, to those who held up petitions and canvassed for hate. She'd once stood by the fountain with a notebook and asked for their thoughts and now all she wanted was to see it burn.

Dust and steam and melting bronze as the Angel of the Waters collapsed into the pool below. Her eyes lit red and she took one step forward before someone landed in front of her.

(No, not Donna. Just leave, just go, you don't want to–)

"Move, Donna."

DONNA: The tide of the news rose overnight and then the dam broke. Supergirl flying proud above the ruins. Destruction and chaos caused by the same hands that held a brush and painted with gentle strokes the beauty of a long-dead world. Something dark had infected Kara. Something dark like the demon Darkchylde that had controlled Illyana. Alex told her that it was some kind of kryptonite and the older Danvers sister had been working ceaselessly with Lena Luthor to find some way to reverse its effects, but time was running out. Each passing moment led to more violence inflicted under the crest of the House of El, and Donna knew each moment would only push Kara farther from her reach.

Donna had to reach her, or Donna had to stop her.

Shield strapped to her back, silver bracers on forearms, the same black and silver uniform that she'd first donned when fighting Darkchylde. Her lasso sat in pieces on the shrine in her room. The sword still hung on her wall. Whatever was happening, this was still Kara, and she would never raise her sword against Kara. No matter what the cost might be.

Donna landed as Kara's eyes glowed with a fire darker than any she'd seen before in the crystal blues that had always held a kindness and love deeper than any she'd seen in another. Even her voice didn't sound the same.

"No." A breath. "I can't. I won't."

KARA: Donna stood defiant and Kara burned. Her hands shook, her foothold on the Earth tentative at best.

There'd been something burning inside of her for so long. It had lit the moment her mother had but her on her pod and said go, even as the words 'let me stay' danced silently on the end of her tongue. She'd smothered it, stuffed it into every small space she could. She'd tried to shape it into something more suitable, let it out in bits and pieces every time her fist connected with a training mannikin, or the unfortunate villain of the week.

Donna helped temper it, once. She pushed and she gave in just the right amounts. She learned her language, said she loved her. And it always meant something, even if the pronunciation would never be quite right. They were sisters.

(They still were. Kara scrambled for purchase, even as her body took another step forward. She clawed at any logical thought she could find because ukiemodh w rrip eh donna and she always would. It mattered that Donna tried. Her traditions didn't have to be everything, so many of them were wrong. And Donna was right, Donna was– )

No. Because Donna didn't get the pronunciation right, she signed the Accords, she didn't get it. She only ever played at understanding, and Kara was done accepting it as enough. She was done accepting any of it as enough. Anger coiled hot and restless in her chest and there was no reason to hold it back anymore.

"Then I'll go through you." The heat behind her eyes pooled and released, uncaring that Donna was between her and the fountain.

DONNA: Kara took another step, but Donna held firm. An Amazon knew when to give and when to take, and now more than ever, Donna needed to be an Amazon -- with a strength of heart worthy of Athena's calling. It had been so long since Donna prayed, but now she prayed to the gods, to the Titans of Myth, to any deities that would listen... she prayed that they would bring Kara back to her.

The heat of anger rising from Kara was one possessed by Ares and his wars. Donna understood anger and war and lashing out against the ones held closest to your heart. She remembered a fight with Diana turned so physical that it had left their knuckles bloodied and chest heaving from the fire burning in each of them. She remembered other fights too -- ones not of this realm and universe. She remembered a world where her arm lay severed by her sister's sword. She remembered hurling Dick through a wall. She remembered the unseeing eyes of Teen Titans, dead by her own hands. She remembered the collapse of a universe and being alone, alive in its wake. She remembered a moon and a crest and being worshiped by mortals. A name humming in each reality: Troia.

No.

Donna noticed the shift as Kara spoke and her hand reached instinctively for the shield at her back, rolling to the side in order to narrowly miss the beams of heat shooting from Kara's eyes. She lowered the shield in front of her body as she stood firm, even as she felt the intense heat of the water now steaming around them, obscuring her vision to whoever may have been in the background. She had eyes only for Kara. "Kara," she shouted. "This has to stop. You're angry? Okay. Then, we go somewhere and crush cars, and if you need to hit someone, then you hit me. You don't tear down the Brooklyn Bridge!"

KARA: "Okay." Kara laughed, something high and not quite right, before she launched herself at Donna. She imagined her shoulder driving through the shield, their bodies hitting water and steam and cement. She didn't think much at all when she felt herself connect, focused only on driving forward.

The laugh melted into a yell, and if somewhere, somewhere she was crying, the water rising up around them would hide it.

"You don't get to tell me how to be angry." She thought of Cat, of James and his cars. Of train yards with Peter, and the way she always shoved it away. Hid it in small corners like it didn't exist, swallowed around it as Lena offered up devices disguised as humanitarian efforts, and when Clark flew away again.

She'd been so angry for so long and she hadn't realized how much it hurt until she'd landed in that office with Erik.

"No one does." The words ground out, breaking just around the edges, and she tried to focus on driving forward. On getting her hands on the obstacle (on Donna, it was Donna, Rao just remember who you're–), "Not anymore."

DONNA: No one dared come close to this fight. Humans made movies and talked about what they thought the 'clash of the Titans' might look like, but they had no idea. They could not really understand. An unstoppable force. An immovable object. Two impossible extremes.

The Teumessian Fox and the Laelaps. Dionysus once set the giant fox upon the city of Thebes as punishment for their crimes, a beast to devour their children... one deigned to never be caught. The King of Thebes charged his general Amphitryon with finding the impossible solution of stopping the monster, and he found one: the Laelaps, a dog destined to always catch its prey. One, a fox who could never be caught, and one, a dog who would always find its quarry. A paradox for the gods.

Kara's shoulder slammed into Donna and she let herself be pushed back, water spraying up like a wave around them until she dug in her feet and brought them to a stop, shield pressed tightly against her body. Steam surrounded them like a cloud, cutting them off from the rest of the world. Just the two of them for the first time in weeks. Perhaps Donna had waited a few weeks too many. "Then, tell me!" Donna shouted back, pushing the shield out and gritting her teeth, forcing an imperceptible space between them so she could look Kara in the eyes -- eyes reddened from anger and pain and loss. "Kara, just tell me." Not yelling anymore but firm in her resolve of buying time of doing something, anything to help Kara.

KARA: The steam shrouded around them, and suddenly Donna felt close. It seemed like it had been so long since the two of them had taken a moment for just them. Their apartment was a revolving door of visitors, her cousins, Jean, Scott, Cassie, even Olivia. Lar knew when to give them space, but he was still there.

It almost felt like it did with Alex; there was a careful distance neither of them had meant to create, but had created all the same.

"Oh, now you want to talk?" Kara moved away in a blink, water trailing up in her wake. Her eyes still glowed red in the steam. "Let's talk, then. What about how I sat by your side as you almost bled to death, and we still haven't talked about why."

She moved right, her eyes dimming. "Or how you're sleeping with the woman who almost killed you, even though you've admitted it doesn't make you happy.

"No, we don't really talk. If we did, you wouldn't have to ask me to tell you anything." Kara moved forward again, only far enough to send a wave of water Donna's direction, pulling in a breath and releasing until the water turned to ice. It arced in shards towards–

It's still Donna. It's Donna and Kara ached, but she couldn't bring herself to stop.

DONNA: She knew she deserved it -- every word of what Kara said. The two of them hadn't talked the way they used to in so long, and that was down to the both of them. But if Kara was so desperate for them to talk, then this wasn't going to be how Donna would have it. Now, the only words spewing from Kara's mouth were words intended to hurt.

And they did hurt. But they hurt even more knowing that wherever they were coming from was just the tip of the iceberg of what was truly wrong with Kara right now. Kara. Her best friend. As close to a soulmate as Donna could understand...

A wave roared toward her and crouched down and lifted her shield, holding her breath in expectation of a flood. Instead, she was met with shards of ice slicing through the uniform at her calves like dozens of tiny little razors coming for her. Donna grit her teeth and plucked out the few that had stuck in her legs before standing back up and facing Kara once more. Small cuts would heal, but this wasn't stopping. An immovable object. That's what she had to become. If Kara was the Laelaps that would always catch its prey, then Donna had to become like the Fox, illusive and uncatchable.

She just prayed that Zeus wouldn't see it fit to bring about an end to this infinite loop of paradox before Alex and the Luthor found a cure for whatever plagued Kara's mind.

"If we're going to talk, then let's talk. But not like this Kara. Not like this." Donna could only brace herself for what was inevitably going to be another attack, and maybe the fog in her vision wasn't just from the steam surrounding them now. Maybe the mist also came from her own eyes.

KARA: Not long ago, Kara may have listened. She would have put it off, waited for a more opportune moment. Or bottled it up, shoved it down and down until–

Rao, she was so tired. Tired of fitting herself around what others expected; tired of shoving things down until they were crammed so tight they hurt. It wasn't a feeling she'd felt all the often with Donna. But then there were signatures and colors, dreams and swords and lassos shattered. Suddenly there was so much about Donna Kara didn't know, and yet she stood asking her to bare all.

Bottle it up, let it out in a controlled trickle. But Kara had no interest in light rain, she was a hurricane, gathering force as it approached landfall. Donna thought words could temper her as they had before, but she was wrong.

Kara laughed, just as cold as the shards of ice Donna was picking from her legs. "Then how, Donna? Over text? When I've finally pushed enough? You want to take this over tea in our apartment while we pretend we're the same? I'm not interested, not anymore."

(They are, they are. There was so much they had in common, and their differences were always understood and celebrated. Donna bled the same. Kara loved her, she loved her, she–)

She dropped her shoulder and charged forward. If Donna wanted to try to be an immoveable object, Kara was going to show her how she could plow right through her.

DONNA: Her eyes had lost their reflection. Where blue used to reflect the moonlight, red swallowed everything around them. Red veins and red eyes and what was next? Were horns and hooves going to appear like that had with Illyana? Was Kara that far gone? No. Donna couldn't -- she refused to believe that. Because if that was the truth, then there was a sword and a duty to something she could never bring herself to do. The unstoppable force and the immovable object. The fox and the hound.

And then Kara pushed, shoulder lowered and enough force to send any man through the nearest building across the park. But Donna wasn't human, and she couldn't pretend to be one. Her shield raised to take the brunt of the force, sliding through the water a few feet before Donna planted her feet firmly and felt the ground CRACK and cave until they came to a jarring stop, calf-deep in splintered granite. Donna grit her teeth. This wasn't what she wanted, but it was what she had to do. She had to buy Alex and Lena enough time to finish the cure. Letting out a grunt, Donna pushed back to create enough space to escape the damaged ground and float up before bringing the shield back and slamming down on Kara's face. Donna had to hope... because that's what Kara would do.

KARA: She couldn't stop, she couldn't stop, she couldn't stop.

Donna didn't even reply, she took the hit and followed it with one of her own. The shield landed home on her face and for a moment the world spun wildly around her. If anyone could pack a hit that would actually hit, it was Donna. Invulnerable was an adjective given only by those who didn't actually know Supergirl. The hit landed, the world spun, and Kara knew they were done talking.

They'd never actually talked. All there was left was the burn in her chest and the obstacle in front of her. Someone standing between her and a home, someone asking her to temper herself when all she could feel was rage. Any hesitation left, thoughts spiraling, morphing hurt into anger.

She'd been holding back since the moment she landed. Be less, Kara. Too much and you'll break something: crashing through walls, plates shattered, cutlery bent around her fingers. Too strong to hug Eliza or Alex, to pet a cat. No more. She was done holding back.

One hand wrapped around Donna's shield on the follow-through, trying to use Donna's own momentum to yank it to the side as she brought her other hand around in a swing of her own.

DONNA: Blood sprayed across her face as Kara’s fist collided with her nose. Fuck. Her roommate held none of her strength back and Donna grunted as she held in a cry of pain. Fuck. The world feared them — feared those with powers to be like this. Unfettered and unleashed on a world that hated what it could not understand. Alien, meta, mutant, Amazon. Raw power wrapped in skin and bones and roaring to be set free. The man Hercules had enslaved the Amazons out of fear of what they could do, and the warriors, once free, had made him pray the price for his persecution of them. A bloody price. Donna remembered sitting on Hippolyta’s lap as her adopted mother recounted the tale behind the bracelets they wore. Bracelets of submission: as a reminder of the time when they were enslaved but also to remind them of restraint. Vowing to settle with words first and fists second.

Donna grit her teeth and wiped the blood from her crooked nose as she staggered back from the blow. “I can’t let you do this!” She shouted as her boots sloshed through water, the mist setting an eerie haze around them like a wall keeping the world outside of this moment. How she wished that the world would never see or remember this Kara, knowing that the Supergirl in front of her was the image that Kara fought with pen and paper to tear down — a being to be feared, not a hero. Donna had sworn to care for all those that Kara cared for, but in this moment she hated Lena Luthor for having any kryptonite in the first place because maybe then Magneto wouldn’t be able to use her friend like this. “Magneto is just using you! This isn’t the way, and you know it.” Donna circled Supergirl, tensed for the next attack that was bound to come. Because while Donna played defense, the Fates string pulled Kara along as the ever hunting hound — the Laelaps in relentless pursuit. If Donna could only be as cunning as the fox, maybe she could get in close enough to knock her best friend out until Alex could bring a cure.

KARA: "He's promising me a home!" Her voice broke on the last word, falling into the noise of the water and her hand scraping against Donna's shield. It broke because despite the red snaking through her veins and way her worst thoughts plowed over every good thought she tried to throw in their way, it still came from somewhere deep inside of her.

She wanted the Fire Falls and the Jewel Mountains and for dragons to be more than a marvel but an accepted normal. She wanted Alura's arms around her before bed and her family prayers and Zor-El's laboratory while Kara snuck underneath tables and between his various experiments. Kara wanted normal, she wanted it so bad it felt like it would consume her (it was, it already was). But she was never going to have normal. The best she could as for was a world that didn't fear her simply for being who she was. It was as close to home as she would ever get.

(But Alex, but Eliza and Donna and Lar. But Kon and Jon and Kal. There were so, so many reasons Earth was home, if she could only hold onto them for more than a fleeting moment, thoughts slip-sliding over each other to make room for all the reasons it wasn't.)

"He's promising me a home, Donna." It was so much easier to fall back into her anger. Everything else was too hard to hold onto. She gripped the shield with both hands and drove forward, pressing it with all her strength into Donna's chest, pushing them both down into the water. Her eyes glowed red, close. "And you're in my way."

DONNA: "A home?" Donna's voice broke on the same word as Kara's had. "Then what have we been living in together for months?" The tears threatened to choke her. Donna would go to war if she thought it would give Kara a home, but this wasn't it. Because a home for Kara couldn't be found in the violence. It was in the quiet moments when she could hear Lar and Kara whispering stories to each other in their bedroom while Donna hummed contently while stirring a pot of noodles. It was found when she came home from a long day of volunteering at the community center when her heart was breaking for these kids that didn't have a home to go to and Kara was sitting there waiting with re-runs of House Hunters queued up on the television and a bowl of popcorn just for the two of them. It was found in texts in their native languages because even if they couldn't always spell things the right way or the grammar was just a little imperfect -- the words were still there and they tried.

When had that stopping being enough?

Kara slammed into her with renewed vigor, with a dark fire in her eyes that drowned out all reason, pushing Donna down and into the foundation of the fountain. A snarl formed on her own lips and reared forward, slamming her head into Kara's to stun her long enough to flip their positions -- this time Donna driving Supergirl back with the force of her shield. "If you think this is the way, then you are spitting on Krypton's grave. This isn't you. Whoever did this to you -- I won't let them get away with it."

KARA: No, no no!

Donna's head struck hers and for a moment her vision blurred. Her fingers went slack and her head spun, water settling around her. For a moment, just a moment, her eyes met Donna's. Actually met. Her face was wet and her chest felt like it was caving in on itself, hollow and empty.

That was it, wasn't it? Everything broken down into one simple sentence. Rao, she'd never asked to be the last. She'd never asked to be the only one left to honor her family, her traditions, her culture her world. She'd been pushed into a pod and told to do great things. Her home had turned to dust and she hadn't been given a choice.

At thirteen cycles old, Krypton was her grave to honor, and she'd never once been asked. All clarity left in a moment.

"Don't–" She struggled against the shield pressing into her, movements increasingly jarred. "Don't tell me how to honor my people! Don't–"

The words came out cracked around the edges. There was nothing left but the burn in her chest. She worked to get her hands free, shifting underneath Donna and getting nowhere. The water rose and splashed around them, and she couldn't move, and she didn't want this, she didn't want this (she really didn't want this). "Don't talk about Krypton!"

Her eyes lit red and released with a scream.

DONNA: She held the line, shield locked against her body as she pressed down and back against Kara like she'd been taught to as a youth on Themyscira alongside the fiercest race of warriors. An immovable object. But Kara was like the unstoppable force of the hound and something had to give -- one of them had to snap.

Energy pooled within her body until she no longer felt that her body was her own. Every fiber of being connected together until shield became an extension of muscle and became part of bone. A perfect unity even with the water foaming around them as Kara lashed back in frantic and stuttered movements. The moon reflected back at her and Donna felt its pull, calling out something deep within her. A raw energy in the dark that pulsed through her veins until she could feel pressure rising in her blood, rushing and pushing her. Every beat of her heart saying to consume and shatter and break the alien in front of her. Donna could see herself pulling at the moon to control tides until the fox became the hound. The hunted became the hunter. A white light of the moon shining through her eyes and stars dancing in her hair and the strength of a thousand gods coming forward to --

No. Donna closed her eyes and let out a yell, just as Kara screamed and a red so bright burst forth that Donna could see even through closed eyelids. A pain like a hammer hitting an anvil struck her body and suddenly she was flying and landing with a splash, eyes fluttering open for a moment so that she could see the stars. There. There they were in the night sky. The punishment for creating an ultimate paradox was mutual destruction, and the gods struck Laelaps and the Teumessian turning them both to stone and placing them in the sky. Canis Major and Minor. Donna smiled for a second through the pain before her eyes fluttered shut.

The unstoppable force had won, so maybe the gods would be kind and let the one still live.

KARA didn't feel, not anymore. Nothing but the fire that raked red hot through her veins. Her vision was bathed in orange and the only thing that mattered was getting up. Was wrapping her hands around the force that held her down and wrenching it in half. It didn't matter that it was Donna.

(It was, oh Rao it was Donna.)

Everything pooled into her eyes and then Donna was gone, the pressure released. Her breath left her in a rush, her throat raw, her lungs aching. She stood with water dripping down her temple, off the ends of her hair into the uneasy waters of the fountain. It was dusk when they started, now stars reflected bright off the pool around them. The glow of her eyes faded as she stepped forward, listening to the sound of Donna's heart beat once, twice...three times.

Pause.

For a moment she was left with only the sound of the water as it settled, small waves lapping and broken stone. Somewhere a helicopter beat a steady staccato against the night sky. And nothing. And nothing.

Kara felt like she was collapsing in on herself. A moment of clarity rushing over her as her eyes widened, her breath stalling in her chest. What. What. Her eyes glassed over and she wasn't sure if it was with fear, agony, or anger that she began to reach forward, praying to Rao for the next beat of her best friend's heart.

Thump.

DAISY: She had seen it by chance. A glimpse at a television that still had power in the city. A glimpse was all it had taken — a scrolling line of text at the bottom. Kara was fighting Donna. Daisy hadn’t wasted a second, she had given her companion a nod and an excuse that he understood — people were important. And Donna was important to Kara, which was why Daisy couldn’t wrap her head around what she had seen. She didn’t get a lot of what had happened, Kara destroying the bridges and keeping people trapped in a city that was burning — Kara cared about people. In a selfless — almost self-destructive way, so, what happened? What changed?

There was no time to waste, Daisy propelled herself into the air with her powers, she hadn’t quite perfected this, but there was no time like the present. She landed on a roof and then quickly traveled, jumping from roof to roof with the assistance of her powers, a careful balance of enough power to throw herself forward and not leave the building she had been on in ruins. (The Stark made gloves helped reduce the reverb, but knowing her limits? Daisy wasn’t particularly skilled at that yet.)

Flinging herself into the air again, once she was close enough to see the fight, she hit the ground with some buffering from her powers, a circle of cracked Earth formed around her. And Daisy inhaled as she stood up straight, eyes shooting up to see Donna lying on the ground a short distance from her. Unmoving.

Kara moved forward and Daisy immediately jumped between her and Donne. “Kara,” she said in warning, a hand up, her palm pointed towards Kara’s chest. A threat. Silent, but clear. Kara knew what Daisy could do if she wanted. “I don’t want to do this.” Don’t make me. Daisy kept her gaze locked on Kara, the expression on her face — she looked distraught... then why had it gone this far? What could have possibly happened here to lead to this. “But I will if you don’t stand down.”

KARA: She didn't even see Daisy, not at first. She only saw Donna, how her eyes fluttered closed, how the twitch of her fingers stilled. She waited and waited and Daisy was saying something, but Kara couldn't hear a thing. Not until Donna's heart gave another thump, and another. The pressure in her chest eased, and she could think, she could–

No no no it was all wrong. She was supposed to find a home on the other side of the flames. They just had to let her get through them. They had to.

Somewhere behind her, friendships were piling up, tattered and torn. It should register that this wasn't one of them. Daisy was spilled ink and confessions neither of them truly meant to make, but accepted anyway. She was once-a-week text messages, and stumbling over acceptance she deserved, even if she didn't fully understand it. Kara had chosen to love Daisy.

And Daisy was choosing to be another obstacle.

"Move, before I make you." Red snaked across her face, fire crawled beneath her skin. She didn't even wait for an answer before stepping forward; she was done with words.

DAISY: She had never imagined her friendship with Kara coming undone like this. She never thought that she’d catch Supergirl on TV beating her friend half to death — she never imagined that Kara would fall so far from the person she had been in that cafe, carefully keeping her composure while masking who she was. A broken pen the only show of force that Daisy could claim to have witnessed.

Every other moment had been touched on with kindness, with a softness — a gentleness that Daisy could have never have claimed to have earned. A whisper of family. The talk of value — that they mattered to each other. But Daisy was looking at Kara with this feeling building in her chest. A red glow just under Kara’s skin, a flicker of the color in her eyes. (A different meaning of seeing red. Or maybe the same... just more plain.)

Was this Kara? Or something else? Something like Hive? Crawling in her mind, drawing out the ugliest, meanest part of her soul?

Standing her ground, Daisy could feel Donna’s pulse behind her, the familiar beat of her heart — the quiet vibrations of her body that said that she was alive. (Would she make it? Daisy couldn’t claim to know that.)

“No. You’ve done enough.” The words came out harsher than Daisy had intended, but she didn’t back down. Kara took a step forward and Daisy... she couldn’t risk it. Daisy couldn’t wait for Kara to come ot her senses, couldn’t let her get any closer to Donna without risking Donna’s life. That had always been the line for Daisy. The lives of others. “Stand down,” Daisy commanded before focusing only one hand on Kara, holding back a fraction of her power, not wanting to kill Kara. The air around her hand shifted in a visible way, waves surrounding her hand and cutting through the air until it pushed into Kara. Strong enough to make each step Kara took more labored, but not enough to still her completely. “This is your only warning. Is this what you want, Kara?”

ALEX: It had taken longer than Alex would have liked to find a cure for the Kryptonite that Kara had been affected with. First she'd had to go over the research about the creation of the Kryptonite that Lena had brought her, then she had to find a way to reverse the effects it'd had on her sister. Blue Kryptonite was what she was testing now, it was the molecular opposite of green, which Alex had made by reversing the ionic charge of green Kryptonite, hopefully this would work because honestly she was out of ideas. Donna was trying to distract Kara, buy Alex some time to find a cure but from the updates her agents were giving her it didn't seem to be going her way. She'd just gotten the results back when one of her agents came into give her the latest update, Donna was down, they weren't sure if she was alive, but someone else had shown up to confront Kara now.

Alex knew she was running out of time with this cure, though the test results of the blue Kryptonite seemed to show it would reverse what Lena's Kryptonite had caused. It was liquid instead of a solid form so she would have to use a syringe with a green Kryptonite needle to inject it into Kara. Once the cure was in the syringe and the needle had been replaced by one of green Kryptonite Alex changed into Green Lantern and flew towards Central Park. It wasn't until she was there she saw who the other person was, Daisy, who seemed to be holding Kara's attention for now, she still had to be quick though if she was going to be able to get the cure to her sister. She landed behind Kara, moving to inject the blue Kryptonite into her neck hopefully before Kara realized what was happening.

KARA: "Yes!"

Kara tried to take a step forward, but her feet rooted to the ground. Her very bones rattled, her vision blurred. Why couldn't anyone just leave her be? She just wanted a home, she just wanted to be free. She didn't want to be hated, or revered, or held on a perfect pedestal where feelings didn't matter. She wanted to feel, Erik had allowed her to feel so much.

(Of one thing, of one thing, Kara.)

This was what she wanted, and Daisy was trying to stop her. Like Donna, like Jon and Kon. Her words fell into a scream as she tried desperately to step forward. Her eyes lit red, and–

Something pricked at her neck, and suddenly everything hurt. The fire in her veins pulling out like thousands of needles, like kryptonite. A red mist lifted from her and she had a moment, just a moment. A moment of thank you, and finally, and she could think, she could feel for the first time in days. She was Kara, and there was Daisy, and Donna.

And Donna. Her chest seized and she couldn't breathe and everything went black.

[rose-director]

Blooming Roses, part 2

Content warnings/themes:

Masks

Medical situations

Neural connection/linkings

Hypnotic imagery

Corporate setting

Cyberpunk

Description:

As the next step in the hiring process, 3B90 is presented with a more permanent reciever system for network integration.

~2,200 words

Story:

3B90 > [Okay, and this won't hurt at all?] Trepidation and concern pour generously through your connection, mirroring the way they've been saturating your thoughts.

2CE5 > [No, there's no reason to worry. You'll be under some pretty strong anesthetics, though you'll be pretty disoriented in recovery.] A flash of comfort rides with this message, wrapping around your mind like a warm hug.

You're sitting in the waiting room segment of the Rose Cybernetics Augmentation Lab, an entire subset of the building devoted to fabricating, modifying, and installing cybernetic modifications and enhancements. Though the lab extends several floors down into the basement, the room you find yourself in is just below the massive building's main entrance. Relative to the area it services, the space itself is fairly small. Its walls are lined with more conventional chairs, complemented by several other more vexing pieces of... furniture? Your thoughts wander back to that first visit, and you still aren't quite sure what qualifies as furniture versus art.

2CE5 > [The furniture itself _is_ art! It gives pleasant visual patterns and all of that, _and_ it's ergonomic for the standard and non-standard body shapes of everyone who uses it!]

You need to stop broadcasting your thoughts when they drift like that.

2CE5 > [Aww, but 3B... it's cuuuute!]

The screen adorning your face lights up brighter in a begrudging grin. Sure, it's fun to get teased over your thoughts every once and a while, but you could do with a bit more privacy. 2C always makes it so easy to just share everything, but you find that as you reminisce on the events of yesterday, you've successfully put a stopper on the outpouring of thoughts from your mind into the LinkNet. For the interview, you'd booked an overnight hotel, and though the commute back had been pleasant, you'd felt deflated as you stepped back inside. The warmth of connection, that feeling of presence from the interview felt almost like a high, one you crashed from the moment your faceplate came off.

Your faceplate.

It's funny how everything seems to make so much more sense than it did yesterday morning. When you got back to that hotel room, you couldn't seem to help but yearn for the feeling of cold glass pressed against your face again, the paradoxical feeling of being seen and hidden all at once. Thinking about the way that data flowed through your mind, uploads and downloads streaming with the simple ease of breathing, you spent the night restless. You missed it all dearly, and you missed 2C, too. It's weird, you think, missing someone so desperately when you'd barely even met, but the whole situation is weird. In the stretch of less than an hour, you'd felt almost as though her soul had become pressed against yours, and in a way that seems almost accurate. The presence of her mind with yours was one of the most enrapturing moments you'd ever shared with another person. This morning, checking out of your hotel was the easiest departure you'd made in your entire life.

Your personal items, wardrobe, and computer were all accounted for when you stepped back through the doors of the Rose Cybernetics Center. At the desk, a new face - or, well, faceplate? - waited cheerily to greet you. They introduced themself as 13A3, and asked you to follow them to your on-campus housing. This benefit, one that didn't actually subtract from the pay Rose Cybernetics had offered, was quite, frankly the reason you'd chosen to pursue employment here specifically. Other firms had been hiring fairly aggressively, but even if the salary wasn't quite as sweet here, you'd always been a fan of the self-contained arcology life, especially if it was already paid for. An elevator had brought you to a floor above the block of office space from your last visit, into the area which seemed to be clearly intended for residential use. When they reached your apartment's door, 13A1 made the equivalent of a smile - the flowers that covered their display blossomed further - and ushered you inside.

Your apartment was a studio; an open kitchenette next to the door, a bathroom in the far corner, and a section of the far wall that seemed to suggest its utility as desk space. Even if it was a fairly small apartment, it was still the largest space you'd ever had to yourself, and you savored it a moment before noticing the furniture. Aside from the lack of a desk, the entire room was full of your things, set exactly as you were planning to have them when you got around to unpacking. 13 giggled and explained that you'd shared your plans for the room last time you were connected to the network. You shrugged, picking up a box from where it had been placed on your bed. It was black and unassuming just like the last one, but a note had been written in silver marker along the top.

You get to actually keep this one! Enjoy~

2CE5

You broke out in a broad smile and eagerly pressed the contents of the box against your face. The receiver pressed against your neck, and the tug of its electromagnets pulled at your mind with sudden familiarity. Far from that first violent experience, this connection was nothing more than a gentle fall into warm, relaxing water. Data flowed up and down from you again, and before you had time to think you felt 2C's mind pressing into yours. In a quick flurry of communication, she explained that you were cleared to get fitted for a permanent receiver, something far better suited for long-term network synchronization. You still feel excitement at that thought; remaining synchronized for as long as you wish, always able to return to that closeness that you'd never even realized you yearned for until you finally had it. A quick trip back down the elevator and a goodbye to 13A3 later, and you were waiting anxiously for the integration process to be ready.

Returning to the events around you, you relax into the presence of 2C's mind next to yours.

3B90 > [Sure, it's cute, but I need at least _some_ privacy!] You transmit your current emotional state, somewhere between teasing and flirty - quickly seeming to be the default around 2C - alongside that thought.

2CE5 > [That's true, that's true.] The feeling of her thoughts is just as intoxicating as ever, and you can't help but melt into the sensation of her pleasant warmth. 3B90 > [So, you mentioned that after I get my new receiver I'll be able to share my mind like this with _everyone?_]

2CE5 > [Yeah, pretty much! It sounds intimidating, but the best way to do it is mesh in slowly.] Her connection wordlessly relays the process by which new connections are established; both sides of the link engage in a three-way SYN/ACK handshake, a fancy way to say that each participant agrees to establish a link with the other. [It's best to synchronize with folks you've already said hi to, at least. Ease into it, you're probably not ready for more than a couple at a time just yet.] She was right; if you were being honest with yourself, you're barely able to handle the one you share with 2C! [Yeah, I can be a bit of a handful,] she sends, smugness dripping from her link.

3B90 > [Look, it's a lot is all...] Your thoughts branch and fork in too many ways to concisely share before merging once again. [It's amazing, but it's... a lot.]

The two of you fall silent, letting understanding wash between yourselves. Even in the last hour, it's been a refreshing experience getting to share such idle comforts between each other like this. It's amazing, knowing that even with her halfway across the building from you, it feels as though you're sitting right by her side. Over the last few hours, it's finally dawned on you that 2C being appointed as your supervisor doesn't really make much sense. As your mind follows that path further along, you come upon another realization.

3B90 > [I'm not distracting you from work, right?] You flash a breath of concern into your words.

2CE5 > [No, don't worry about that! When you're as used to the network as I am, you learn to multitask. Actually, I'm having five different conversations right now!]

You feel a mixture of trepidation and delight at the thought. Sharing a mind like this is more delightful than anything you've experienced before, but it's so much to take in. You're sure it'll come with time, and 2C seems to agree, but the worry lingers. After another moment of silence, a tech whose display shows a gently swaying forest enters the waiting room and - by your best estimation - makes eye (faceplate?) contact with you. A notification pings in your visor, a request to engage with a new communication stream. 2C gently urges you to accept the request, and fades away to make room for a new consciousness on a new endpoint. The feelings, sensations, and overall feel of self that you get from the technician are so different! Your mind recoils from the feeling for a moment, surprised at the unexpected change. You know that everyone thinks differently, but seeing this first hand as new and unexpected patterns swirl through you feels no less surprising. After the momentary shock, you realize that the tech had said something that you completely missed. Apologetic explanatory feelings flow up through your connection, quickly met by a response.

F211 > [Hey, it's alright. The second connection's always a lot to deal with, especially when you have to disconnect from someone you were comfortable with before.] The technician wordlessly introduces himself, and informs you that he'll be integrating your new receiver systems. You're already familiar with the procedure, but he shares its details with you once more, asking for your verbal consent. It feels strange to use your mouth to talk, even after just a day, but you acquiesce. Your voice is weak and breaking, stating that you agree to and fully understand the details of the modification. You'd forgotten how hard it was to get words out in the way you wanted, and that frustration flows back through you for a moment before it's caught by a wave of reassurance from F211. [That's exactly what I needed, thank you. You're good on 'paperwork', so follow me and we can get started! I know you've been waiting long enough.] A strong breeze blows through the trees of his display, and you think it seems to coincide with a good-natured smile. His initial sensation was so different, but after a moment of acclimation, you like the feeling of his mind almost as much as you enjoy 2C's. It might be the imagery adorning his faceplate, but the feel of him is sharp like the smell of pacific-northwestern pine, sharing that tree's unassuming, gentle strength. He feels surprisingly safe, which, you suppose, is good for someone performing delicate and precise modifications to the composition of your brain.

Your new friend leads you out from the lobby, and down a hallway adorned with sterile white tiling as well as the occasional splash of color painted in polygonal designs along the wall. You broadcast your curiosity over the patterns, feeling F211's response satiate your wonder. The art is intentionally added to ensure that the area's sterile environment remains unique and interesting. Whether it accomplishes this goal, it certainly appears visually interesting. F211 laughs at this thought loudly between your connection, but shows no outward indication of amusement. You're still going to have to get used to how uncanny that is. He guides you to a room at the end of this hallway. Large and circular, this room is ringed by various lights and other mechanical instruments draping from the ceiling, directly above what looks like a reclining chair. The technician invites you to take a seat, and as you do, the chair slowly conforms itself to your shape until it feels as though it was made for you.

F211 > [Everything's set, are you ready to go?]

3B90 > [Ready as I could ever be.] Actually sitting here, your anxiety begins to build. You want this, and it's part of the next step to your work here, but all the same those machines above you look a bit more intimidating than you would like. F211 recognizes your heartrate picking up, and wordlessly asks if it would help to have a hand on your shoulder. You return a wave of gratitude and a flash of green along your screen, and his touch saps away a good deal more of that worry than you expected it to. He sends feelings of reassurance, gently letting you relax. Before you recognize what's happening, he's already counting down from ten, and you feel your voice reflexively mirror the countdown's progress. With each number, you sink lower, deeper, as everything fades into... empty, perfect nothing. Far away, a gas fills your faceplate, letting that nothing surround you until you drift into unconsciousness.

[heuristicallyinclined]

MallekWeek2020 Writing Prompts

Chapter 6: Day 6: MSPA Reader meeting trickster!Mallek for the first time

(AO3)

Summary: First time as in first meeting? Or first time as a trickster? Why not both?

Notes: One more day. God I don't know how this got done. This was very fun to write though.

God fucking damn it Mallek.

Play a game he said. You’ll have fun and make new friends he said. You’ll eventually meet them in person through a series of convoluted time paradoxes that simultaneously have and have not happened yet he said. It will be all good he said.

You know what he didn’t fucking say?

That at one point, he would turn into some candy coated asshole who would be terrorizing you the first time you ever met in person.

You knew that he was an “information specialist” and just generally enjoyed getting into shit he shouldn’t. And it was fine, he was having fun, you were having fun, doomed timelines were being averted. Future him would talk to current you and give you advice to repay future you for helping past him. You know, things that don’t really make sense, but your pursuit of friendship has barely even ever led you astray, so why worry about it?

He even told you that when your sessions merged that you two would finally meet. He said that your present selves were about to meet and be experiencing the same time for the first time and you were so pumped to meet him in person. Apparently, the future two of you were chilling and hanging out together in the future while pinging past each others’ past selves and it sounded so nice. Just some friends helping each other become friends so that you could become friends and ensure that you became friends in the first place.

That was the last you heard from future Mallek and you didn’t know if he didn’t tell you this because telling you would change your reactions and alter the timeline or if shit had just gone entirely off of the rails in this one.

You were finally able to reach current Mallek on your palmhusk and you knew you were excited to see him, as well as the rest of your friends too. He was excited too since he liked future you and figured present you would be pretty chill too. You hoped he would. You knew he would, since all of what hasn’t happened has happened already has so things will be fine.

It was as things were about to coalesce that he said he thought he found something that would help with the game. That he poured through the code and that he thought he found a cheat that would help create a tool you guys could use to win. And maybe this was partially your fault for encouraging him, but you’re just an encouraging person in general and want your friends to do well. Especially when they are doing something that sounds cool and that they are passionate about, like hacking. You thought it would be beneficial to everybody. So you did.

You were starting to regret that.

He said he was going to go alchemize it and would be over to see you in a bit and for you to hang out right where you were. You were excited to see whatever mystery hack this was. Then things just felt different. Like someone opened a pixy stick too close to you and you felt like you had to sneeze everything just smelled like sugar and kind of burned.

You heard him before you saw him.

“SUP;”

You turned around and immediately squinted trying to shield your eyes from whatever that was. It wasn’t a bright light, it was just this nauseous burst of color and it just looked wrong. Everything clashed together in a way that simultaneously called attention to him and made you want to look away. Looking at him too long gave you a headache and you could have sworn that he didn’t have firm edges, that he was just, almost glitching?

“IT = GREAT TO FINALLY MEET YOU BUD;”

Oh hell no. This was not Mallek. You had seen his profile picture and this was not that. Like this dude looked like Lisa Frank personally beat his ass. Also, what is his volume? You could barely hear your own panicked thoughts. Maybe you could get him to calm down?

You hesitantly greet him and ask if he is feeling okay. He sounded a lot more mellow on Grype and you wanted to know if something happened while he was trying to make the tool.

“I = AM DOING GREAT; I HACKED THE GAME; AND EVERYTHING = GOING TO BE OKAY NOW;”

He sounded manic, like he could barely contain himself and you notice he was holding a massive swirly lollipop. This couldn’t be the tool, this was a joke. This has to be a joke. It is a joke that is super not funny to you and you start stepping away slowly from him. He floated towards you, seemingly unaware of your fear.

“AW; WE = ALREADY FRIENDS; YOU =! NEED TO BE SHY; I = SO EXCITED TO MEET YOU;”

You let him know that you were happy to see him too, but maybe you two should hold off on talking until he was feeling better.

“WHAT; I = SO MUCH BETTER NOW; I USED TO BE FREAKING OUT ABOUT MY ORDEALS; THEN I WAS STRESSED ABOUT THE GAME; AND THIS SWEET CHEAT SOLVED EVERYTHING;”

Oh wow. Yeah. You are glad he is feeling better. He did a good amount of that too, it didn’t do everything. Like he helped turn it into an executable file in the first place and he had even opened up about his anxieties to you. He shouldn't give it all the credit. You were all just friends helping friends. And maybe he should put that down and take a deep breath.

“YOU = ALWAYS BEEN REALLY HELPFUL FRIEND; WE GOT THE GAME BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME WHERE IT WAS; AND WE HAVE THIS BECAUSE I FOUND IT; NOW I = PUMPED THAT I CAN HELP YOU;”

Oh he really doesn’t have to do that, you are good. You didn’t do it for a reward you just wanted to hang out with your friends and be happy and you two were already doing that so really there is no need t-

“BUT YOU DID THIS BECAUSE YOU WERE LONELY; YOU WERENT HAPPY;”

He is floating closer to you and you try to say you were happy now. You don’t have to bring that up.

He is now on the ground slowly walking towards you and this was somehow the most scared you had ever been in the game.

“DONT YOU WANT TO ALWAYS BE HAPPY; DONT YOU THINK IT WOULD COOL TO NOT WORRY ANYMORE ABOUT ANYTHING”

No, you think that not being happy all the time makes it easier to relate to others having a hard time. Like using candy to pretend that nothing is wrong.

“I WAS NOT HAPPY SINCE I DIDNT HAVE ANY CONTROL OF MY LIFE ON ALTERNIA; YOU GOT ME OUT; NOW WITH THIS I = COMPLETELY IN CONTROL; I OWN THE GAME; I CAN DO WHAT I WANT WHENEVER I WANT TO; YOU CAN TOO;”

He didn’t look like a guy like a guy in control. It seemed like he got worried he was going to lose control again and did something maybe not smart. You know how much he likes being able to do his own thing and you could understand

“DONT BE LAME; THIS = SO MUCH BETTER THAN BEING STRESSED ALL THE TIME; PLUS WITH THIS YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TOO; WERE BUDS; I WANT YOU TO GET IN ON THIS WITH ME;”

What you really want is for him to back the fuck up because he is really getting in your personal space and you’re getting super uncomfortable.

“COME ON; BE HAPPY WITH ME;”

Whoa, wait, what?

“I ALREADY DID ALL OF THE CODING; AND I != HAVE ANY FUTURE KNOWLEDGE TO HELP YOU WITH ANYMORE; WITH THIS WE CAN STILL HANG OUT;”

You didn’t talk to him just because you thought he was useful, you already liked him. He doesn’t need to do shit like this for you to want to hang out with him.

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as it somehow made his already huge grin impossibly wider. Yeah, you weren’t getting out of this one.

Before your sugar rush started, your last coherent thought was that you wondered if this happening is dooming the timeline, or ensuring its’ success.

Notes: Okay so, trickster mode gives a megaphone to your impulses and fears so for this I theorized that in a game, he might need to feel useful. With all of MSPA's other cool friends, he might be anxious that if he isn't bringing anything to the table anymore, why see him? Also, finding a game breaking power up for someone who is desperate for control? Yeah. Not great.

[vergils-daughter]

Nero x V x Reader. Because why not. "I want both of you"

Sooner or later it had to come to this. Your group fought your way through districts full of demons week after week and all that time spent together brought you closer to each other, whether you wanted it or not. All that intensive fighting, long hours spent searching through the ruins, heavy physical exertion. You on the edge of your nerves because death is always very close. All this created sort of a gap between your group and the rest of the world – all that you had left behind the military blockade set up to keep the civilians away from the forbidden grounds. One moment you caught yourself thinking that all that you could recall from your previous life seemed almost like a dream – something stupendous, far away and unreal.

It's here and now. There is blood, sweat and adrenaline that pushes into your veins every time you encounter an artifact or a group of demons. And then there is them – these two men, in the beginning so very distant and now so close. Perhaps the only remaining human beings in the distance of many kilometers. Nero and V, the young boy with artificial arm and the tatooed summoner.

To be honest, it is hard to say when exactly you started to notice them. When their status changed from brothers in arms to someone you really depend on. Whose attention and applause you seek. Whose touch and voice you need so desperately in this scary place. It was enough that one of them lent you a hand and supported you when you were climbing. You knew that he held you longer than was needed. Or when you were standing next to each other and your arms touched. You were feeling that your skin was tingling and you felt warmth. Or when you were staying in one of the many abandoned houses, locking doors and checking every corner before laying down. You were all sleeping in one room, for safety reasons. After the whole day you were so exhausted that it wasn't important if you fell asleep in a single bed or on the same couch. Well, not cuddling, but so close that when morning caught you, you woke up with someone's leg on your thigh or fingers entangled in your hair. You where changing your clothes without paying attention whether any of the two saw you. But then there was the day you realized that something changed in the way they looked at you, it distinctively began to feel as if they were touching you.

And then you knew that you want to be touched by them.

It started to disturb you a little. Not that it made you feel embarrassed, but you could not stop thinking about it. When you caught yourself staring at Nero's butt and almost twisted your ankle, you rebuked yourself: the missions should be above it all. Artifacts and demons' nests – those are your priorities. You cannot allow dirty thoughts to hinder you in fulfilling your duties, goddammit!

Or so you were saying to yourself. But the tension between you three was beginning to grow just to big to ignore.

That night you managed to find quite a groovy apartment. The place did not suffer much from the recent events and somehow even had running water! That itself was a miracle. When you finished your meal, Nero went to the bathroom first, wordlessly leaving all the preparations for the night to you and V. That always took some time, but at night demons could be a great pain in the ass. Some doors and windows still needed checking and barring.

Then it was finally your turn to take the advantage of the unusual blessing of water. You returned, relaxed, with your hair still wet. As V disappeared in the bathroom, you noticed Nero trying to tend to his wounded arm all by himself.

You told Nero to lay down and, ignoring his feeble protests, you kneeled next to him. Outside it was dark now and you did not light any lights to avoid bringing unwanted attention. However, you needed to have a look, so you decided to light a single candle. You took Nero's hand and placed it gently on your tights. The wound did not look serious. It must have been caused by a strike of a Qliphot tendril, probably the last one that all of a sudden bursted from beneath the surface. It could be infected, though, so you decided to take care of it. After all, you were the only shaman and healer in this group, which made your hands full almost all the time.

The boy put his cybernetic arm under his head and watched you from under the eyelashes. He looked as if he was going to fall asleep. As you were focused on casting a healing spell and wrapping the arm in bandages, your mind - ever alert in this environment - took an  almost subconscious notice of V returning. The summoner sat just behind you.

"It should be okay now" - you said, knotting the bandage and putting off the candle. Despite the darkness, you saw his bright eyes fixed on your face. Faint moonlight penetrated the cracks in the windows and illuminated his white hair, still wet and glittering as though they were made of silver. He looked so innocent and... appealing. A paradox. Not thinking much, you raised your hand to his face and ruffled his hair. The surprised look on his face amused you.

"Its time to sleep" - you said, but in the meantime you realized that with the other hand you were still holding his wounded hand on your tights. Pressing it to your skin, not wanting to let go. And his fingers slowly began to react, barely noticeably stroking you. As if he were scratching a cat's ear.

And all of sudden you noticed several things. The silence, which was thick and heavy, the only audible thing being your breaths. That you are wearing only your tank top and panties. That both men were half naked. You became very aware of V's silent presence, just behind you, perhaps closer than before. Nero's stroking hand slowly, slowly moved around your thigh. You were so very close to each other that you could feel the heat that came from them. You were all still wet, cooled with the shower, but burning hot inside.

There was no option that you could fall asleep like this. That any of you could.

 But someone had to take the first step.

"You seem... tense" - V's silent voice broke the silence. At the same time his hands touched your shoulders. You shut your eyes, putting yourself under this soft caress, feeling a pleasant shiver that went along your spine. V's hands dropped to the edge of your shirt, his fingers gently slid beneath it and with a decisive move he pulled upwards.

"You do not need this, do you?" - he said and you obediently rose your arms to let him take it off completely.

Now you heard Nero draw a loud breath. Averting his gaze from you was beyond him, he kept looking at your bare breasts it seemed you made quite an impression as he stopped stroking your thigh. But V, he did not waste his time. As soon as he let the shirt drop his hands gently dropped back on your shoulders and slid down to your breasts. His fingers crushed your nipples, causing you to moan. You tilted your head back, leaning it on his chest. V kissed your temple.

Nero suddenly sat up and leaned towards you. Two men tensed, though V did not stop what he was doing with your nipples. They looked each other straight in the eyes, and in that look you saw - or at least imagined you saw - challenge, irritation and perhaps a question. For a moment they looked like two dogs ready to jump at each other. No, you corrected yourself immediately, like a young wolf and a black panther. And then Nero made a decision. He rose as if he wanted to go away, averting his eyes from both you and V. You grabbed his hand before he managed to pull it away.

"And where do you think you are going?" - you asked, your voice strangely hoarse, as V's hands were doing some pretty amazing things with your breasts. - "Don't you dare walk away".

The boy sat down, clearly confused about what to do next, consternation all over his face. The quiet V's chuckle, that came right above your ear, did not encourage Nero at all.

"Oh, I see, our shaman really took to her heart all our teamwork advice. You wish to embody them all, here and now, don't you?" - he said, biting your ear. - "You want to be fair on the battlefield where the fight is always the most passionate and harsh?"

"I simply want you both" - you answered. V said nothing to that, but you could bet he smirked, as he used to. You pulled Nero closer, so that the heads of the three of you touched for a moment. You kissed him hard on his lips. They felt warm, but dry. As you licked them he finally decided to cooperate and tried to kiss back. Now you moved away, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Take me now, you hear me? And you, V, hold me. Tight".

V now seemed very amused and listened right away. He shifted his arms and pulled you slightly upwards so that your head leveled with his. You leaned your head over his shoulder and pushed your hips upwards encouragingly.

Nero pulled the panties off your body so fast he almost ripped them. He grabbed you by your tights and pulled them apart and upwards. You were now almost hanging between them, your toes barely touching the bed sheets, but somehow stable. Oh god, it felt great.

Nero entered fast and hard, just as you hoped he would. His cock was thick and the first push made you hiss. As usual the anticipation and the arousal made you tight down below, but you did not mind the pain.

"I am sorry" - he muttered between thrusts. You stroked his head with one hand, the other was leaning on V's thigh. You tried to relax your muscles and after a moment you felt your pussy adjust to Nero. Your moist walls embraced his dick. Every push was feeling more pleasurable and one of the poet's hands was still petting your breasts.  

Through the sound of blood pulsing in your veins and your erratic breathes you heard a silent hum, somewhere by your ear. On your tongue, you somehow felt the taste of wine and rose fruits, synesthetic experiences leading you straight to the land of happiness...

"Do not stop!" - you growled.

 "I am sorry" - Nero said again, as his breath became erratic and heavy. "But i... will come... in a second...".

At first you wanted to reassure him or to scold him, but in your current state you just could not decide, you could not think clearly at all. All was irrelevant, as long as it lasted.

It looked like Nero was that kind of guy that discharged fast and full. His face turned red. He closed his eyes, his motions became even stronger, faster and more intense. The last few thrusts were so strong that V had problems supporting you two on his side. His back was pressed against the wall behind him and he was taking all the impact of your bodies. Nero came inside you with a cry – you found it cute, you have never heard man respond like that to orgasm. A few second he was staying still, gasping, and then he pulled himself out of you, left down your legs. He took a step or two back and lay dropped on the bed.

"O my god" he purred.

V was still silently humming, you felt the vibrations in his chest. You turned around to face him. Your look was dark, concentrated, your body throbbing and wet. You took his face in your hands and kissed him, not even trying to be gentle, pushing your tongue inside his mouth, tasting him, growling and twining from eagerness.

"Take me now, fast" - you hissed to his lips. V only smiled and shook his head. For that, you felt like killing him there and now. You grabbed him by his pants and started pulling down, but he grabbed your wrists and twisted them.

"Teamwork, remember, witch?" - he said. He lifted you a little, flipped you over and pushed you towards  the bed. Now you were kneeling over Nero.

"Now is your turn to help me. Wake up!" - new sparkles light up in Nero's sleepy eyes. The boy drew you closer in and hugged around your nape, causing you to lay down on him, breasts on chest. V, on his side, pulled your hips, lifting them higher. You felt his body almost adhere to your back. He was much taller than you and could easily cover you all. He kissed your neck.

"You need to accommodate to my dynamics. But right now you are like broken instrument. I have to tune you in. To work on you a little..."

"Just... I am begging you, be careful there, ok?" - whispered Nero, his voice a little whimsical and a little serious. V laughed loudly.

"I think both of you could ask me the same, am I right?" - he said. "Truth to be told, I am not sure whose hand or leg is where."

"I do not care about legs or hands, just aim correctly, dammit!"

Yes, great, and now they began joking. You were trapped between them, withering from desire, barely breathing. And they – they decided to start some sort of comedy. V's cock was nudging your buttocks. one of his hands pushed between your bodies and you felt his fingers parting your labia. He found clit and with his cold fingers he started to tease it, every move causing trembles within you. And yet, he did not stop talking.

"Kallipygos in Greek means 'with beautiful buttocks'. And this caramel skin. You are like Amazon, emerging though the wild forest..." - an another spasm of pleasure jolted through your body. - "With this windswept auburn hairs of yours you look like wild, untamed..."

"This is only a bit better than his poetry" - whispered Nero straight to your ear. There was no option for V not to overhear. He snorted with laughter, and you almost sobbed from disappointment when he stopped the caress. You jerked, full of anger, but Nero held you in place.  

"V, I am losing my mind here" - you coughed up with your face pressed to Nero's neck. "I will garrote you both, I swear to god!"

"Look what you are doing, boy" - said poet mockingly. - "You are upsetting our shaman. She indeed loves to hear my voice, doesn't she?" - He growled the last words straight into your ears. To your relief, his fingers came back between your tights, slid into your folds and parted them. The tip of his cock touched your vagina, pulled back and returned, this time pushing hard inside, but only a little. You were certain now – he was a fucking sadist.

And he was still talking, with his voice full of content. It may be he even quoted. You recognized some of Blake's verses.

"The naked woman's body is a portion of eternity too great for the eye of man."

A lunatic and sadist, yes.

 "Pleeeease..."

"I cannot hear you, my dear"

Just do it! Now!" - you screamed so loud, that Nero surely heard ringing in his ears. - "Do not torment me anymore, please, I.... ohh!" - V pushed inside you, unbearingly slow. He was different from Nero, longer, but not so massive. He was playing with you, searching for a proper position, his hips making subtle motions. And when finally he started riding you, he was doing it in a monotonous rhythm.

Now suddenly he was quieter than Nero, no longer quoting, he did not even gasp. You could not see his face, but you were sure there was an expression close to contemplation on it. This was all V – man with studied, slow gestures, not throwing his word on wind. Tasting every moment of life.

It was silent. Only the rustling of linen and your breathes.

Nero's hug lightened. He started to soothe your hair and shoulders. The entire scene became intimate and sweet, everything was soft like a fluff. Just beautiful. You realized that you somehow love these two men. The flow of emotions pushed the tears from your eyes and even the forthcoming orgasm did not interrupt the lyrical mood.

V's breath clipped, became erratic. He leaned tighter on you, snuggling into your back. You tasted the flavor of distant despair, a scream full of pain resonated and echoed somewhere. But the vision faded out before it even pealed out fully, swept of with the wave of orgasm – yours and his. You bit your lips in fear that not the expected moan would come out, but sobbing.

Only the silent sigh escaped his mouth with the last spasm.

You were completely drained. After V released you, you slid off of Nero and lay beside him. V followed, he snuggled to your back and embraced your waist. His face touched your neck. It felt wet.

[plasma-paints]

Okay, Theory Time!

This is going to be really long, so to spare people I’m going to put pretty much all of this under the cut, but it involves time and space and the fact that we might have had this all wrong from the start. Also, probably best if you watch part 4 of Observation first.

Alright, so Sean not so subtly implied that the egos are in fact from different universes. The universes intersecting for a short period of time before separating again would explain why the egos tend to come and go in our timeline. A good example of this in popular media is The Convergence from Thor: Dark World. At minimum two universes, or points in space in the movie, overlap and thus matter/energy can pass between unhindered. Being in the centre of one of these anomalies would technically allow you to be in multiple universes at once. (I like to imagine bubbles mixed with a Venn Diagram for visualization.)

So pretty simple, the universes intertwine, someone passes through, boom their in our reality for a while. Except, these kinds of anomalies are stereotypically spacially specific, so if one were to enter into one and then leave its area of effect, they may not return to their original universe. Essentially, they’d be stuck, albeit temporarily if they can find another anomaly. This is what I imagine has happened to each of the egos.

It can explain away a lot of things: 

-Jackieboy-man’s and Marvin’s abilities - Dr. Schneep’s strange medical practises (at least in this universe) -JJ’s inability to speak -Chase being able to stand in for Jack

It could also be used to explain Anti in a similar fashion, just another universe’s version, but I don’t think that’s quite the case. Anti, unlike the rest, is different. That much has been made obvious by the fact that he’s the only seemingly knowledgable one. He seems to understand what’s going on intimately. “Time is broken.” This indicates that the universes aren’t necessarily colliding at the same relative time, let alone space, but the more interesting fact is that he knows that they should be. ‘Broken’ implies that he is aware of a time when time flowed properly, possibly without the universes intersecting at all. A state of order so to speak. 

Anti though is the epitome of chaos, so why does he of all the egos know what order looked like? I mean he bounces throughout space and time, bounces around space within dimensions, and doesn’t appear to have a physical form of his own. There’s absolutely nothing orderly about him. So why is he the omnipotent ego? For that exact reason. He’s unstable, unlike the others, he’s unable to remain anywhere outside of an anomaly. For whatever reason, he can’t leave. So he’s been stuck who knows how long, getting glimpses of multiple realities and eventually he must have just put it together. For him, time is the most broken, phasing between universes at an almost imperceivable pace... He, for lack of a better word, glitches.

Now the real question is why? What happened to result in this instability? Why are universes, that for all extensive purposes should remain separated, bouncing around and into each other like billiard balls? 

The simplest answer: Someone fucked up, and they fucked up badly. 

My thoughts are that it was one of two individuals who caused this cascade failure of the multiverse: Anti... Or Sean. The narrative, as I see it anyway, can only make sense if one of them or both of them is to blame. Why else would Anti continue to appear back in this universe, harassing the egos who also end up in this reality? 

Anti makes a lot of sense, as he’s like the focal point of the chaos, the epicentre. He’s the antithesis of order and seems to only want to bring down everyone with him. He makes for a stereotypical evil entity.

The story becomes more interesting if it’s Sean though, that tipped the balance. He wouldn’t even have to know he did it, an everyday action that this version of himself wasn’t supposed to do perhaps... 

***Everything under this point is a potential partial timeline/plot theory***

I’m purely speculating now, but possibly that action was making a youtube channel. (I’ll come back to this.)

It would tie a lot of things together actually, and it would finally give Anti a proper motive. He just wants this to be over. “I’m tired of playing pretend, fucking circles!” Who knows how long it’s been for him? How many different attempts he’s made at fixing this, only to fail over, and over, and over? How many plans he’s tried? How many of them we’ve seen? Think about how calmly he said, “Time is broken.” This time around was different from his usual overzealousness. Possibly because it was one of his first attempts at reaching out, asking for help, hoping that somehow, someone else would put together the pieces and end his torment. 

It’s odd and fascinating because this entire time we might have been framing him as a villain because of what we witnessed first - the violence, the threats, the manipulation- that we missed the overall message: “Help me.” 

 If time isn’t flowing the same for him as it is for us, he could have been trapped in this in-between state for countless lifetimes: “I am eternal.” Being torn apart and stitched back together a billion times a second everywhere and nowhere, “always there, always watching.” Frantically he puts in information wherever he can: glitches, video tags, titles, social media, in those brief moments when he occupies our reality once more. He’s figured out that this universe is the problem, we’re the epicentre of a catastrophe beyond the comprehension of everyone but him. He tries, and he tries, and he tries to get someone to notice him. He becomes more knowledgable as time goes on, finds tricks to staying more stable, gathering allies from alternate realities (like those from the overnight watch), manipulating universes so that they intersect at the right places, puppeteering on a cosmic scale. 

Nothing ever works perfectly though, so he also becomes increasingly desperate. No one else is putting the pieces together, bringing his nightmare to an end. Suffering endlessly until he finally snaps, coming to a single conclusion. In order for this hell to end, he has to kill the person who started it all: our Sean. Time doesn’t matter to him after all, so all of the attempts we’ve witnessed are his end game. Perhaps he mistakenly took Chase for Sean due to him crossing universes and manipulated him into ending his own life (Chase’s power hour.) Another time he appeared while Sean was dying, and tried to disable the surgeon working on him (Kill Jacksepticeye.) He partially succeeds, and Sean’s in a coma.

Here’s where to channel comes in. If it’s the error that needs to be corrected, it explains why Anti’s so obsessed with us, the community. He may think that maybe that too would be enough, that if the channel dies, it’s the same thing as Sean dying, the mistake ceases to be. Except, even with Sean out of commission, the channel lives on. The other egos, primarily Chase it would seem, taking over to keep things running while Schneep tends to Sean. 

None of the Egos stuck in our reality have worked Anti’s situation out, obviously, all they see is another version of themselves actively trying to kill them all and so they band together. Realizing that these other realities’ versions of himself were actively interfering in his plans, he moved on to eliminate them from the equation too. Possibly he thought blackmail would suffice for Chase, so he took his kids. Instead of just sabotaging Schneep’s surgery in kill Jacksepticeye, he moves to try to choke him dead instead. An unending cycle of attempts to rid himself of Sean, of the stupid little thing that has caused him unending pain and infuriation.

Except... It does end. I’ve felt rather adamant that Say Goodbye is not the first major appearance of Anti from his perspective, but the last. Time goes by, Anti grows stronger and picks a time and place to focus on: October 2016. In order to focus himself there, he creates a sort of beacon whenever he happens to glitch through. “You all said my name,” for the first major time in our timeline, a call throughout time and space, “kept me inside.” We gave him a tether to one spot long enough to act out his plan. “This is all your fault! Too long! [You should have] listen[ed] to me!” We never put the pieces together, we took too long, so he had to resort to killing Sean.“You all made this happen! You could have stopped this, but you just watched as this happened!” He’s angry with us because if we had put the pieces together we could have ended his suffering earlier as well as saved Sean. “Now, he’s gone forever.” It’s over, it’s done, Sean’s dead, Anti presumably goes back to whatever reality he was from, and time and space fix themselves. We don’t know this though, because we still have to live out our failure in a paradoxical timeline that once everything is back in balance should cease to exist, no longer serving a purpose. So it’s literally the last chance to, “Say goodbye.” Not just to Sean, nor Anti, but to our universe itself.

But that’s just a theory, a meta-theory. Thanks for reading!

@therealjacksepticeye

[sickjoonie]

can i please get something based off your namjoon hc where he gets stressed before a meeting and pukes and yoongi's there for him?

namjoon had been feeling off all week. his body felt heavy, weighed down with the knowledge of the impending meeting that he and yoongi had to attend. they had debuted a few months ago and things weren’t going as well as planned. it was painfully obvious that changes needed to be made.

namjoon couldn’t get his mind off of the meeting. was the group going to change? did bang pd want them to drop some members? was his producing not good enough? he could feel himself getting more and more anxious the closer they got to the day. sleep evaded him, replaced instead by the broken record player that was his thoughts.

over and over again, the scenarios played out in his brain. he struggled to focus on his daily tasks and could feel the exhaustion weighing down his body. his body was a paradox; it wanted sleep but gave him only endless thoughts whenever he tried.

the day before the meeting, however, things started to worsen.

it started in the afternoon when he was working with yoongi on some songs. the weight in his head slowly increased to a dull ache, one that left him dizzy if he moved too fast. all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep.

yoongi was rambling on about something but he lacked the energy to properly respond to his words. he sank further in his seat, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

yoongi looked away from his computer, frowning when he saw the grimace of pain on namjoon’s face. “joon ah? you feeling okay?”

namjoon slowly shook his head. “headache. i’m just really tired, i haven’t been sleeping well.”

yoongi had heard namjoon shifting restlessly at night and noticed his tired demeanor. it was obvious he was anxious over the meeting.

“i think you should head back to the dorm and get some rest. take a nap before dinner, yeah?”

namjoon nodded in agreement. all he wanted to do was to sleep and finally rest properly, unlike the previous few days. he slowly got up and grabbed his jacket, preparing to walk home.

“do you need me to come with you?” yoongi offered.

namjoon shook his head. “i’ll be fine, you should keep working anyways. thank you, though.”

yoongi hummed. “alright. i hope you feel better, joon ah.”

namjoon smiled weakly. “thanks hyung.” he walked out of the studio, beginning the trek home.

the walk home was uneventful. his feet felt heavy and his head pounded in rhythm to his footsteps. the promise of sleep was the only thing that kept him going. the dorm was empty by the time he got back, the sound of the door shutting behind him echoing throughout it. he slipped his shoes off and tossed them aside, not caring to be organized. he dropped his jacket in the small living room before heading over to their shared dorm room.

namjoon curled up on his bunk, feeling his body melt against the mattress. he shivered and cursed the poor heating in the dorm, yanking his blankets over him. he closed his eyes and breathed slowly, hoping to finally drift off.

it seemed his body was at its limit as he easily fell asleep, the plagues of anxiety finally leaving him alone.

for the first time, his body stayed asleep instead of drifting in and out of conscious like it had been the past few days. he was only woken up a few hours later by someone shaking his shoulder.

he groaned and groggily opened his eyes, the world coming into a fuzzy view. it felt like someone had draped a blanket over his mind, making his thoughts muggy and confused.

“joon ah. hey, i’ve got some food made.”

namjoon blinked slowly before finally realizing who it was. seokjin was standing over his bunk, hair wet with sweat from extra dance practices. they must have just gotten home, seeing as seokjin had yet to use the shower.

namjoon hummed and sat up, eyes fluttering back shut. he rubbed at his face, trying to wake himself up more. everything felt tilted, just mildly off. one thing that namjoon was sure of, however, was that he wasn’t in the mood for food.

“‘m not hungry,” namjoon slurred, dropping his hands.

seokjin frowned. everyone in the dorm was always hungry, their bodies needing the energy after being pushed to the limit every day. he pressed a hand to namjoon’s forehead, testing for a fever, but found no lingering heat. “you feeling okay?”

namjoon shrugged. “i don’t know, everything feels kind of funny.” he sighed and laid back down. “i just wanna sleep.”

seokjin was torn between letting namjoon sleep or forcing him to eat. in the end, after seeing that namjoon had practically drifted off once again, seokjin decided to let him be.

hopefully namjoon would be awake later to eat something, seokjin concluded.

-

the sound of someone’s alarm going off startled namjoon awake. once he realized what was going on, he groaned and rolled onto his side, not wanting to get up.

as he slowly woke up more, the sound of the alarm never quite shutting up getting to him, he realized that something was very, very wrong with his stomach.

he pressed a hand against his stomach, feeling the bloat of it. it was churning unpleasantly and nausea was threatening him in the back of his mind.

his body couldn’t have had any worse timing. he would have to suck it up and ignore it all through the meeting, something that seemed impossible from the way his stomach was hurting.

some grumbling above him alerted him of yoongi finally rising. the alarm finally silenced, the rest of the door sleeping soundly on. there was rustling before namjoon heard a dull thud. footsteps came over and stopped in front of namjoon’s bed.

yoongi’s hand shook his shoulder. “namjoon ah, i know you’re awake. we gotta get going.”

namjoon groaned and reluctantly sat up, grimacing through the pain. he really didn’t feel like getting up.

a cool hand went to his forehead. a moment passed as yoongi felt for a fever. then, “you’re burning up, joon ah.”

namjoon whimpered. he was fucking screwed, he was sick and there was a meeting in two hours and he was probably going to be asked to step down as leader and he was so fucking screwed.

“you’re not going to that meeting.”

namjoon finally opened his eyes and stared up at yoongi in disbelief. “hyung, i can’t just skip the meeting.”

yoongi shook his head. “i’m not letting you go when you’re sick.”

namjoon felt anxiety bubble in his chest. “h-hyung, i really have to go. please, i’ve been so anxious about this all week, i can’t skip it.”

yoongi hesitated, his worry wanting to force namjoon to stay and sleep whatever was plaguing him away, but seeing the desperation in the younger’s eyes made him break. “alright. on one condition; the second you feel worse, you tell me and i get seokjin to come pick you up.”

namjoon nodded in understanding. “i will.”

the two prepared to leave, taking turns in the shower. yoongi made some breakfast, but namjoon could only stomach a few bites. he smiled sheepishly, but yoongi just shook his head.

“i still don’t think you should go, but i know you’ll be worse off if you skip it.”

the ride to the company building was where namjoon’s symptoms increased tenfold. it appeared that his post sleep haze had dulled some of it. he curled up helplessly against yoongi’s side, clutching onto yoongi’s jacket as his stomach cramped and gurgled in warning.

yoongi soothed him the best he could, eyebrows pulled together in worry. his hand brushed through namjoon’s hair. “i shouldn’t have let you come.”

namjoon shook his head, insisting that yoongi made the right choice. even so, he clung to yoongi’s side even when they arrived and walked into the building. he kept a hand on his stomach, desperate to try to keep his measle breakfast put.

it was when they reached the hall of the conference room that namjoon burped loudly and groaned, stopping in his steps.

“hyung, i’m gonna…”

yoongi swore loudly, grabbing namjoon by the arm and moving quickly back down the hall and towards the bathroom. he could hear namjoon start to gag behind him, holding back to keep from embarrassing himself further.

as soon as they were in the bathroom, namjoon stumbled into one of the stalls and bent over the toilet, burping before gagging loudly. he spit into the toilet, breathing heavily and shaking.

“my stomach, oh fuck,” namjoon moaned, a hand grasping at his abdomen.

yoongi settled next to him, massaging his neck. “you’re okay, you’re doing okay.”

namjoon heaved, his body moving forward with the movement and his grip tightening. he felt dizzy with nausea and illness.

namjoon was left hovering over the toilet, burping and heaving sprodically as minutes ticked by. it wasn’t until after a deep, sickly belch that had yoongi wincing did he finally start vomiting, bringing up his breakfast.

yoongi rubbed his back, wincing at the sound of namjoon’s vomiting.

namjoon pulled back from the toilet and seemed to settle, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. yoongi opened his mouth to speak again when namjoon’s eyes flew back open and he fell forward, vomiting once again.

namjoon was in the middle of it all when yoongi felt his phone start to buzz. panic trickled down his spine and he eyed namjoon. he had a feeling who it was that was calling him and knew better than to leave it unanswered.

yoongi stepped out of the stall and pulled out his phone, wincing at the contact info. bang pd himself. he answered it, namjoon retching in the background.

“yoongi ah, where are you two at? it’s been fifteen minutes.”

yoongi sighed softly, looking back at namjoon. “we’re in one of the bathrooms. namjoon ah is vomiting.” on cue, namjoon heaved and brought up bile.

“vomiting? wait, what all happened?”

yoongi explained namjoon getting sick and trying to attend the meeting anyways, only to get violently ill.

thankfully, bang pd was understanding. he informed yoongi that he’d move the meeting, knowing that there was no way namjoon could make it through it without vomiting everywhere.

“get him home and rested so he can heal,” bang pd instructed.

“will do.” yoongi sighed and finally hung up after saying goodbye.

he moved into stall. namjoon had stopped vomiting, but every now and then he couldn’t help the dry heave that escaped him. his cheeks were puffy and his eyes swollen with tears. all in all, he looked very sick.

“don’t worry about the meeting,” yoongi grabbed some toilet paper and wiped namjoon’s mouth clean, “it’s been rescheduled.”

namjoon whimpered, leaning into yoongi’s touch. any previous stubbornness was gone. “i really don’t feel good, hyung.”

yoongi felt his heart break, hearing namjoon’s hoarse voice. “i know, baby, i know. we’re gonna go home now though, okay? you can sleep at home. jungkook will even give you his bed.” yoongi grasped namjoon’s hand, a small gesture that meant so much more.

namjoon nodded slowly, his hand grabbing tightly onto yoongi’s.

“do you think your stomach is settled enough to move?”

namjoon shrugged. “it’s hurts, but i don’t think i’m gonna throw up anymore.”

it would be enough. yoongi helped namjoon up, taking all of his weight and pulling him close. the two made their way out of the bathroom where one of their managers was waiting. he and yoongi slung namjoon’s arms around their shoulders and helped guide him down to the van.

the ride back was uneventful, namjoon dozing off on yoongi’s shoulder. he was obviously exhausted from puking his guts out and running a fever. yoongi practically carried namjoon’s half awake body to their dorm when they arrived.

the other members were still asleep, the morning too young to awaken the dozing teenagers. yoongi would let jungkook claim his bed for now, instead moving namjoon to the couch.

“think you’ll be good for a couple of minutes while i get supplies?” yoongi asked.

namjoon nodded his head, hand rubbing slowly at his stomach and eyes half closed. they watched as yoongi moved to the bedroom and then the bathroom.

when he returned, he was carrying a trash can and as many blankets as his arms could carry. the trash can was placed in front of the couch, a cautionary that namjoon was sure he’d be using. then yoongi went to work wrapping namjoon up in blankets, sealing him from the chill of the winter.

he was almost done wrapping namjoon up when namjoon spoke up. “will you cuddle me, hyung?” his voice was slurred with drowsiness and sickness, raw from vomiting earlier.

yoongi leaned forward and pressed a kiss to namjoon’s forehead. “of course.”

yoongi settled against the pillows on the couch, opening his arms up for namjoon to settle in. namjoon eagerly laid against yoongi’s chest, wrapped up and warm with fever. yoongi let his hands rest on namjoon’s back, holding him gently.

“you can rest now, namjoon.”

-

(hoseok walked out of the bedroom, stretching his arms above his head. he paused when he saw yoongi on the couch, a lump of blankets and what appeared to be namjoon’s hair on top of him. he frowned and opened his mouth to speak, only to get cut off.”

“he’s sick, started vomiting at the company building. he’s sleeping for now.”

hoseok nodded. “ah, poor guy. must have caught some stomach bug then.” he smiled, nodding at their position. “he looks quite cozy, though.”

yoongi smiled softly down at namjoon, lazily petting his hair. “to think i ever found him intimidating. he asked me for cuddles, hobi ah, it was the cutest thing ever.”

hoseok laughed. “i’m glad you’re taking care of him. i’m sure seokjin hyung will be a mess later.”

yoongi hummed in agreement. namjoon mumbled in his sleep, moving a bit before settling back again on yoongi’s chest. yoongi stared at him fondly.

“by the way,” yoongi looked back up at hoseok, “prepare to confiscate jungkook of his bed. i promised namjoon he could use it.”

hoseok raised his eyebrows. “you’re preparing for war, hyung.”

yoongi shrugged, unbothered. “and i’m gonna win it.”)

[imperiusv]

IV - Raging, This is the End

I loved that vacation on the sea just you and me, i always wanted to go to that place with someone since I was a child, it was really special to me and i loved that you enjoyed it , food was shit tho and it wasn’t as good as I remembered, but well worth it with you. After/before that i quit my job to study for the exams, i knew shitty days were coming and they were, but I had to do that, there was no other way, that job was a dead-end , draining my energy and abilities and opportunities, I had to graduate, I knew this would fuck us money wise and relationship wise, I would be way more needy,angry and would probably lead  straight down the rabbit hole , but I had to do it. In those days it was really hard for me, as you weren’t understanding at all , showed zero patience towards me and generally made me feel ever worse, that’s how i knew you weren’t the right for me , you just weren’t there for me, like you kept doubting me for everything, like doing business or having kids, that time when your period was really late, this drove me so far away from you, i was really disappointed and stopped loving you so much, i think that was the moment i started losing you for real, step by step,slowly over the course of an year. We went to Hamburg to visit my family that was nice , really thoughtful of you, I will go soon again, as i haven’t seen them ever since. Rome was good too, just that thing with the black guys was horrible, at that moment i didn’t realize what had happened, I was just so disgusted that i wanted to get away from them, I didn’t see that you got hurt or felt like that and do regret it to this day, its one of the things i really messed up.There we had a good time , we should have done more fun stuff, but i guess i was in a different mentality back then.That surprise i made for your birthday , i really put so much effort into it, I was thinking like stuff from our shared past and to make a trip down memory lane, i hope you didn’t sell the necklace, i see that you still wear the bracelet, I am happy that you do. The weekend getaway for our anniversary was nice, we should have done that way more often, i kinda regret now that i didn’t get my shit together to get a driving license, but i was just fucking worried how am i gonna cope with money and having a car, again the fucking money thing, i realize now how much of a problem not having enough money is , it gives you stress, makes you worry about a lot of stuff, stops you from doing things and prevents you from enjoying yourself, which adds up slowly over time and generates even more shit ,arguments and bad vibes. Slowly i was getting my shit together, i had graduated , my fucking internship was almost over , i was going to job interviews, which were all really bad,it was really draining on and when i finally thought i was gonna get shit done for good, like get a good law job,getting a driving license, fix my relationship with you, at which time it was already apparent to me that there was a problem i had been ignoring for quite some time and we were slipping   and finally  do what i thought i wanted to do and be happy,of course not even one of those things came to fruition ,everything came crashing down again .The whole driving test was rigged, they fucked me in the ass for money, over complicating absolutely everything, you being less and less understanding,cold and distant and increasingly more toxic and what hit the worse was the realization of post graduate life  that, you wont make any money and your life will be shit, thank you for studying for 6 long years , here is less money than a fucking cleaning lady, but yeah it says MR LAW in front of your name, shit i was gonna even be a detective, good thing i didn’t go down that path or how you were telling me to go for lawyer and we will manage with your salary and scraps from my dad, fuck what a shit show that would have been. You have no idea how shitty it was looking for a job and getting shit from interviewers and going on about ridiculous  job offers, because you and my dad were pressuring me, praise the Emperor I didn’t let that shit get to me, which was the difference between us , that i never listened to my parents, even though you always  made fun of me about being a little bitch and listening to my dad, nope, I am not you and I really really really hated how dependent on your parents opinions you were , how you made so much efforts to please them , although you thought you didn’t , you did a lot. Every time you went there for the holidays i would get pissed, because i wanted quality time with you, not to go to my fucking town and listen to my dad and his dumb as wife bullshits , it just drained me so much, being away from you, I should have embraced it and be happy for the alone time, but instead i missed you, which only shows how much I truly loved you. Standing in the cold in the frozen wind I’m leaving you behind but it’s not the end No, no, no Walking on a plane as I hold my breath It’s gonna be weeks till I breathe again How can someone not get depressed after so much shit coming their way, now when i look back I can’t blame myself that much for being like that, I mean i still blame me of course, I should have handled it better, but definitely i look with more kindness on myself going back over this period of my life, Nobody , literally nobody understood me, not even my dad, brother, friends , not even you, it was horrible , funny thing is now my friends are going through the same shit and my brother kinda is as well and they see , but back then no one even tried or made an effort, it was just nagging and bullshit and putting more and more pressure on me in a moment that i needed support and understanding.So in this shitstorm a trip with your parents was the last thing on my mind, but i could not go, you would go crazy and they would be offended, probably it would have been way better if i had not came. I really tried with them, I still can’t figure out why they never liked me. Maybe they knew i was a bad match for you and you had to keep it up with me or God knows why, it doesn’t even matter anymore of course, like most things.I was annoyed by them in that moment,but i was annoyed by everyone and everything you knew that and i still kept face and behaved, I helped them, i was useful and nice, except for groping your ass and fucking you like crazy, but WTF you were my girl, of course i would do that, Jesus fucking Christ, this was/is so  fucking ridiculous.Slowly over those months i could feel you slipping completely, you started to disrespect me a lot  and slowly  i went from your top priority, lol like that ever was true, to bottom line priority, you would prioritize time with your dumb ass bitch friends than spend time with me,the most absurd thing was that we would have fights that we don’t do anything and go anything, but so convenient, you would work on the weekends, the next one you would have lectures, the third one you would go see your mamma, and the 4th one in the month , you would be meh, lets go eat pizza, I’m tired and i wanna rest, which for me was okay , i loved taking you to restaurants, not the same five places of course, we could have tried more stuff, but every week we went out , the problem was you were bitching we don’t do shit and it was your fucking fault and i don’t blame you, i was bad company at the time , its normal to not wanting to spend time together, sadly i needed time alone, we should have split then, until i figure my shit out, that was the only way , but i was too weak to leave you, too desperate to hold on to our dying toxic relationship ,but If i had left you back then , we would still be together, how paradoxical that is, but it is God honest truth, but I’m glad that did not happen, because we would end up having kids or getting married and one day i would wake up and be like what the fuck is going on with my life and why am I with this women, who is clearly not worthy of me, as cmon you never were, not just looks and intelligence, but also your behavior , character and vibe, you are unstable , unreliable and untrustworthy and very volatile ,not someone who would want to have kids and build a future together for sure, good for some time,yes you were not right for me at all , but let me get that CRYSTAL CLEAR that doesn’t change the FACT that i loved you more than anything. Everybody around you was hating me , of course you would start to do the same ,for their own selfish reasons, your boss, he was jealous of me, the fat fucker, that i would get that ass every night and he can’t see his dick from his fat belly, but i didn’t give a damn about that porker, i have no idea why you thought i was jealous of him or whatever, an absurd notion. Back then i didn’t think you could fall so low like you are now, but to be honest you always had an affinity for gross disgusting guys , e.g Romane, Lazslo , that guy you used to date before, most of your male friends, I do believe they made you feel better and more secure, because you felt better than them and you did not have to put so much effort in it or worry about it , or feel bad and be willing to work for it. I saw that pattern even back then and from your conversations with your mom , I think you were raised like that as well, to be mediocre and settle for less , just so you don’t get burned by the fire, which is really sad, but hey , its only your life choices, so who cares. My step brother’s prom came and it was like a really weird spin of fate, two years before that was my brother’s prom and we were so happy ,not pretending, this time around,  we just looked happy in the photos and were pretending that everything was okay, which all my family noticed, sadly except for me , but to be honest i knew where we were headed , I just didn’t want to accept it , I used to talk with my dumb ass friend from my town over the phone, going on at great length , how much you are not for me and how much better it would be if we split, but i still had hope that we might get over this and things will be different , that you are different and I am not right, its only a temporary thing and so on and so on, what a fool for you and your love I was. After that your behavior grew increasingly erratic, you would pick fights with me for the slightest of things, complain about everything, nag and blab all the time. I was so worried at that time for securing employment and my upcoming last exam , that i scarcely took notice of said behavior  , which for the time was the exact thing i should have done, but as my mind cleared i focused on the things you were saying and complaining about, which was my complete downfall, trying logic and reason with you, when obviously you were doing it on purpose or perhaps you weren’t ,but it came from your deep underneath your  consciousness, in a way to force me to leave you , because you could not do it yourself. Those last months were horrible, constant bickering and fighting , i was gonna give you a meme - toxic is good , toxic is great , but we split before i managed to send it. This was quite visible and from the time we spend together or more correctly we did not, you would be at work or drinking with your slut friends , who more than anything wanted you to be single, it’s not normal for your girlfriend to get drunk, especially when she know she has a drinking problem, lol that was joke. But yeah it wasn’t normal that you would go out at noon to drink with you friends and come home at ten , knowing that this is our only free day we should rather spend it together doing something just the two us or with other people,but us together, that was my problem, not you drinking with your friends or in generally getting wasted, problem at the time of course, as I needed you, now if i was in the same situation it wouldn’t be a problem , i would just do the same with my friends or dump your disrespectful ass, you have no idea how low my tolerance for bullshit has become, if you think i was bad before, you should look at me now, I am perfectly aware of who I am, my self worth and self imagine, I am not gonna let anyone, let one some dumb ass bitch fuck with me or walk over me, its either my way or the fucking highway, you wanna be part of my life, my good vibes and self amusement mindset, have a good time, then you must contribute , you must bring something good to the table as well, if not , okay , good luck out there and hope you find what you are looking for. This has been my mindset lately and it has worked wonders for my mental state and happiness. No one cares about that tho , so lets move on  to the action part-  APOCALYPSE  Ever since i started working ,I was hoping things were gonna go improve and we might pull through , but nah, you were already set on breaking up and looking for another guy , that better looking guy from your work that split with his girl didn’t go for you, because he probably saw what you were and you took a liking into gorrila joe , he does look like a monkey to be honest or Mr. disgusting like we like to call him, he was giving you free attention, validating you and boosting your fragile ego and you decided why would you bother with me when you can have this wimp in your legs and walk over him , why try hard when you can go easy and let go of yourself and just give him the only thing you had of value, hidden between your legs. I remember when i met him for the first time, how he looked frightened, we were still together, he knew i knew what was up, but i did not believe you would fall so low and just disregarded him , i mean cmon this guy was so fucking disgusting, how could you even... Just before the end you would go into the most ridiculously arguments , like why i don’t want friends, it was none of your business and i have friends, i just didn’t seem them because of you , you would bitch and moan if I did and generally hated them and other stupid things you would fight with me, i knew the end was coming, as this shit has happened before with another , just a short explanation here, the moment we split she started writing me , sending me cringy snapchats videos of her, for the sole reason i can’t record them or SS , with stupid quesitons how are you doing and so on , my friends said i should fuck her to make you feel bad, but that whore was absolutely disgusting to me, i only entertained the idea of talking with her to get the old photos that got deleted, THAT WAS THE ONLY REASON, she was so insignificant and inconsequential to me that i wouldn’t even care if she would come butt ass naked to my doorstep begging for cock, i would laugh and go to the gym, she appeared again in this story 6 months later, but thats or the last chapter, if  she is reading this by any chance , just fuck off, you are a bad memory i erased long ago, like some dumb school project that you did ages ago, exactly can’t remember, doesn’t matter fuck off. But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, we went to that nice Italian restaurant  and the whole time you were complaining and bitching about stuff , you made an effort not to agree with anything , i don’t want here i don’t want there, stupidity and disrespected pilled up with shit. I finally decided to act, so when we went home i confronted you and asked whats up, you were afraid again to tell me, didn’t have the courage to step up and say the truth , so you gave me the bullshit idk if we should be together, this was the defining moment , I showed you the door and told you to fuck off, you started crying and this was my biggest failure and mistake, that i thought you were different, i felt really bad and sorry for you and said to myself this is my girl i should try to fix it, but no dumbass , it was already unfixable and way too broken for me to repair, the only way this shit was gonna go down my way was if i had dumped you as i first told you to pack you stuff and leave,but my feelings for you again got the better of me . You picked the perfect moment for that of course, i was sick and was feverish , I couldn’t think straight at all , if i was okay , things would have been different and i wouldn’t have been that broken, but yeah my mistake again for putting my faith in you. You lied to me that you love me and said we will work things out, a blatant lie , knowing that you were gonna pack your shit and vanish the day after that , as you do best. And the most disgusting thing was that you were still making plans with me to go to Greece and on a holiday, using for the last time, before we go our separate ways, maybe your guilt got in the way or me pushing you too hard, otherwise you would have stayed for longer with me and God forbid , if we stayed together until the winter, stop me from coming here or we could have pushed through and made it ,who knows, Praise the Emperor that things went the way the did, for me to see you as the person you really are, not that perfect image i had of you.

We finally arrive to that day 29 of August, from the morning i knew something wasn’t right I could sense you, even thought , the last night we slept together i just knew this was it, I could feel it , i asked to leave work earlier and headed home ,but it was already too late as i entered the door my heart fell andwhat happened after that I will cover in the last chapter of your story.

[thepaperpanda]

The Soul World Paradox

Summary: Peter Parker wakes up in the new place to him. Quickly he finds out that he is trapped in the soul world among other heroes that were affected by snap of Thanos' fingers.

Warnings: none!

Words: 1767

Authors: Beast

Request by: @kastrup-sofie Request: I have a request Action takes place at Soul Stone. After IW all avengers and heroes who were wiped away from Earth, meet there and they accuse each other of things that happened. And, f.e. Quill screams at Strange, Spidey think Bucky is Jesus and he is Heaven, T'Challa cries after his sister and Okoye Something funny ^^

There was nothing but darkness all around him.

Second later, he heard some voices.

A sudden thought ran through his head; he knew some of the voices.

He slowly opened his eyes. At first, he blinked few times, giving his sense a time to get used to the lightness.

He saw a blurry figure that was leaning towards him.

"Are ya okay, kid?" asked a strong, deep voice.

He blinked again and slowly raised a hand to cover his eyes a bit.

Within seconds, his vision became less blurry and it got a proper acuity.

He blinked few more times and he cocked his brows before asking out loudly: "Jesus?"

Bearded face above him got brighter with a smile that appeared on other man's lips.

"Uhm. No. I'm not Jesus."

Peter shook his head and sat up slowly, being supported by a bionic arm.

"Oh! Mr. Barnes!" boy rubbed his eyes with thumbs, breathing deeply. "Mr. Barnes... What has just happened?"

Bucky, who was kneeling next to Peter, smiled sadly.

"I have no idea, kiddo. I think, however, that something pretty bad happened."

Peter nodded, confirming that he understood what Bucky has said a second before.

Young man looked around once again, when his eyes were fully adjusted to light.

He was sitting at the sandy ground, some flora were around them, mostly a dried bushes.

A bit ahead Peter noticed Black Panther. King was kneeling down on the ground, hiding his face in his palms while mumbling "SHURI... OKOYE..." on and on.

A bit on the right, there was Falcon with Wanda. Man was helping Scarlet Witch to get up on her feet again. She was trembling all over her body, Peter could easily noticed an anxiety in her eyes when she looked at him briefly.

On the left, Peter Quill was walking in the circle while Drax was trying his best to calm his mate down.

"Quill, stop it, for fuck's sake, I can't focus when you keep on walking like a weirdo," Drax sighed as he stretched his back.

Peter's eyes wandered to Bucky again.

"I think that the Wizard has spoiled something..." Boy mumbled quietly, trying to get up.

Bucky blinked but offered his metal arm to Peter. When boy was standing unhesitatingly on his feet again, Bucky rested hands on the hips.

"What? Wizard? Did you hit your head that badly?" he tilted head aside, blinking in disbelief. "What are you talking about, kid?"

Peter shrugged casually.

"Suddenly me and Mr. Stark were on the other planet, I suppose. And there was the Wizard and he was having that amazing cloak that was doing all the things Wizard has wanted. and then they appeared, I don't know any of them, I mean, I didn't know them back then," Parker pointed at Drax and Quill and Mantis, which just joined her friends. "They called themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy but God's my witness that I don't believe them, they simply were trying to stop that big, purple dude that was pretty angry and came out of nowhere. But they found out that he killed his daughter that was his girlfriend," Peter again pointed a finger towards Quill. "And he got offended and because of this we didn't manage to take that shining glove out of the purple dude's hand, Mr. Barnes," Peter took a deep breathe, he was trying to present everything as faithfully as it was possible.

Bucky's eyes were getting opened wider with every sentence said by Peter.

Finally, after few long moments of silence, inquired: "What the hell? What?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Please, Mr. Barnes, don't make me say it all again, I'll get lost."

"Hey! Barnes! What the fuck have you messed up this time?!" Falcon yelled looking at Barnes, shaking a dust off of his back.

"Hey! Get off me, Wilson!" Bucky snarled loudly, he was clearly angry at the moment. "Maybe you've just blew a wrong piece of an energy field around Wakanda, huh!?"

T'Challa looked first at Sam, then at Bucky, he slowly approached Barnes.

"Easy, my brother," he said as he put his gloved palm with claws on Bucky's bionic arm. "We have to gather everyone and figure some plan out, White Wolf."

Bucky gave a slight nod. Peter opened his eyes wider.

"White Wolf? It sounds pretty cool, Mr. Barnes!"

When Bucky along with Sam managed to gather everyone at one point, T'Challa got on the large piece of stone that was laying between some bushes.

"I'm T'Challa, the son of King T'Chaka. I'm the king of Wakanda," he shortly introduced himself. "I have no clue what happened but I feel that Thanos somehow succeeded to snap his fingers like he said he will," Black Panther looked around carefully. "Last thing I remember was that I was trying to force my friend to run and then there's is a blank spot in my mind," he sighed deeply. "I don't know you, guys," T'Challa rubbed his claw agains his jawline as he looked at Guardians. "Who are you?"

Peter Quill was simply standing with arms crossed over his chest.

Mantis was one who spoke her mind aloud.

"We're Guardians of the Galaxy. I'm Mantis. This is Drax," she pointed at  muscular man. "That's Peter Quill and we have Groot over there," Mantis smiled a bit and waved to the tree-figure that was walking towards them.

"I AM GROOT!" Tree mumbled sadly and as he walked closer, he sat down on the ground shaking his head in thoughtfulness.

Suddenly, everyone heard a strange noise, something between a click and chuck.

A tall man dressed in a red cloak appeared among them out of nowhere.

"Mr. Wizard!" Peter clapped his hands. "I was scared we lost you once and for all!"

Before Bucky asked an obvious question, man raised his hand up, asking voiceless of silence.

"There was no other way," man sighed, taking his cloak off.

Material shivered softly and floated straight to Peter, placing itself on boy's arms and rubbing his back a bit.

"I'm Doctor Strange," black haired man spoke. "And I gave the Time Stone to Thanos."

There was a silence for a long moment.

T'Challa got off the stone and ran to man, punching his stomach with hand curled in a fist.

Within a second both men were laying down on the ground, struggling and grunting.

The cloak was trying to help its owner by hitting King of Wakanda time after time.

"STOP IT, FUCKERS!" Someone shouted out loudly, a strong and deep male voice nearby them.

Everyone raised their heads in that direction, T'Challa  Strange also stopped fighting.

In front of them all was standing a tall, well-built, black man. He was wearing a black, thick coat and an eye patch.

"Nick Fury..." Bucky whispered under his breath. "So this didn't happen only to us in Wakanda..."

"I don't know what the fuck did you do, guys, but I am fucking pissed off." Fury placed hands on his hips, his face was full of anger. "And you, man," he tilted head towards Strange. "Are you fucking kidding me? How could you just passed Time Stone to that fucking alien?!"

Strange pushed T'Challa off himself and slowly got up.

"There was no other way. I've traveled through many possible endings of all the situation we were having, and I swear, we managed to win with Thanos only by this one time when I gave him the Stone," Stephen explained carefully.

T'Challa snorted in disbelief, he knelt down on the sand.

"We have no idea what is going on with those who survived," he mumbled. "Shuri... Mother... Okoye... Nakia..." a single tear rolled down king's cheek. "I just wanna know if they are fine."

"If they did survive," Drax shrugged with consternation.

"Oh, c'mon!" Bucky shook his head with spite. "Stop saying this like they would be gone, okay?!"

Mantis came to Bucky and put her hand on his cheek.

"Easy now..." she whispered softly, smiling at him. "Let me help."

Within second, Bucky calmed down, his breath began to be more balanced.

"Vision..." Wanda was crying quietly, nuzzling to Sam. "So that was the reason he turned back time... He was having Time Stone..."

"So, you wanna say it's over now?" Peter blinked few times. "No, I don't agree, we gotta go back and help them! They need us! They need us, am I right, Mr. Barnes!?" he asked desperately, looking at Bucky.

Former Winter Soldier remained silent, he only lowered his head.

"Great," Fury rubbed his temples with gloved hands. "We are fucked."

"I AM GROOT!" Groot wailed sadly.

Fury looked at the tree and cocked his head aside.

"I saw aliens dropping down from the sky but it's my first time seeing a talking tree," he stated.

"We gotta figure some plan out," Peter nodded to himself. "We gotta go back. Mr. Stark will help us."

"Yea, especially Tony," Bucky snorted, chuckling darkly. "He is no one but a playboy that thinks he can do anything he want, kid. It's not a good example for someone like you."

Peter narrowed his brows.

"I beg your pardon, don't be such an..." boy hesitated. "An ASSHOLE!" he yelled and immediately covered his mouth. "I am sorry, I'm just being anxious now..."

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned with his back to Peter.

"Listen, guys," Wanda wiped her tears away. "I think we won't be able to come back to Earth until Thanos has Stones. Our last hope lies in those who stayed there," she came to T'Challa and patted his back slightly. "We can only wait, hoping they'll find a way to release us."

"I agree with her," Strange rubbed his beard. "I hope Tony understood what I was trying to tell him. Besides..." he turned to face Star Lord. "If you wouldn't hesitate then, we most likely would have won, Peter."

Quill only clenched his teeth, he turned around and slowly walked away, hiding his tears.

"I AM GROOT," Groot got up and staggered to his feet, swaying a little, he approached Star Lord, trying to hug him from behind.

But Peter refused, taking few more steps ahead.

"Leave him alone, pal," Drax miffed, looking at Groot.

"So... What's now?" Parker asked quietly.

Almost everyone remained silent but there was a dejected voice that said: "We will try to fight."

Everyone turned their head to see Star Lord who was looking up in the sky.

"We will fight when the time will come. I will fight Thanos alone if necessary. I will do whatever it will take. For Gamora."

Pandies🐼: @blue-dragon-ice @calkingwood @imidarogerson @grossograsso @thewildgardensstuff @irai-lauri @leven-and-ashley @la-verdura @bearded-steve-rogers @sebbystan-plantlover @atuckyismylife @krispyjellyfishzombie @personality-within @haseki-huricihan @choppedgardenwhispers @vroobelek @lattimelka @chris-beamz @hidden-secrets69 @side-blog-of-me @purepearls @i-am-margerita @volcanoxxx @kastrup-sofie @mikkal-akasaki @withoutashadowofhope @radbluebirdeagle @marvel-fan-site @smutloversblog @buquete @super-psycho-love69 @tanglesss @peter-sommer @baysidewest  @vegemania @philip-stan @chodiusmmm @subwaystunnel @tykorclint @dagger-dragger @kurant @nothing-can-least-forever @oxfordkipem @deliciousbouquet90 @tuptuptup @hellenna80 @karina-marina9 @latimeriaaa @bratko @wurld89 @scott-evans @kiss-me-rouge @ovonel-espaniol @dancing-tacco @ratugadhi @white-tiger-shangrila      @axn69 @eternal-life-awaits @mrs-laura-harmon @artsy-inside @gleeeeees    @darkllaama @jatut @agawux @fuzzy-tigrrr @jrjohnsson2  @cassandbeast      @maaargoshaaa @dontgetmewrongman @einexx @nwmtagsb @anini71          @secretlygrantaire @kyloren-supreme-ben @infinity-stones-seeker @thehappyspider @wings4life @huxyluxy     

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Stranger, Part 1

Dean x Reader

Summary: Reader finds a stranger wandering the road, his head and clothes bloody. He’s disorientated and doesn’t remember who he is. She takes him in and they get close until he starts having nightmares about monsters and killing people.

Then one day, a sleek black car pulls up and a tall man gets out, wearing lots of flannel and has shaggy hair. He claims that the stranger is his brother and he’s come to collect him.

Warnings: Talk of abuse, anxiety, mild violence, language, canon divergence

Everything Tags: @his-paradox @sorenmarie87 @lefthologramdeer @grace-for-sale  @redm81 @becs-bunker @docharleythegeekqueen @moonchild-shoshanna @idontfuckingknowgurl

SPN Tags: @soythedemonqueen  @kazosa @lucifer-in-leather @perseusandmedusa @tiquismiquis  @mrsbarnes-rogers @yorkeylover @through-thesilver-lining @illysamorgan @fictionalabyss   @gettinjoyful @auntsalgal  @stuckupstucky @miss-spnm0mma @teller258316 @sphollis-blog @sweet-things-4-life @xxwarhawk @hobby27 @sweetlythoughtfulbird @theoriginalvicki @dreamchester67 

Words: 3.7K

Based off this gif prompt:

“You better not be too long!”

Your step-brother’s voice bellowed from the stock room, making you cringe with loathing. You sighed quietly and grabbed your purse from the back of the chair in the small office. Working with him was becoming unbearable, and you needed to get out of there. Shane wasn’t your favorite person, not even near the top of the list. He was a bully when you were growing up together as kids, and even a bigger one now. The fact that you had to have him at your store to help out made you nauseous on a whole other level. And yet… here he was.

“While you’re out, grab me a sandwich, would ya? And a coffee.”

“We have coffee in the shop, Shane,” you mumbled, overwhelmed with regret for asking him to come and help you out. It was only supposed to be for a couple weeks, but that was three months ago.

“I want good coffee,” he yelled back, but you were nearly out the door, in desperate need to get to your car just to put some distance between you. “Not this sludge shit you make!”

Rolling your eyes, you were silently mocking him. But when it sounded like he was headed your way, you stopped. You didn’t want another confrontation with him. While he’d never physically harmed you (and he could, he was larger than average man), his mental abuse and intimidation were enough to frighten you and keep you on edge. The physical abuse was more his father’s style. Your step-father had been a special kind of monster, and unfortunately, Shane had inherited a good number of his bad qualities.

“Fine. Coffee and a sandwich. Anything else?” you asked, slinging your purse over your shoulder and hurrying towards the main entrance. He shouted something else, but by that time you were more than halfway to your truck.

Ten minutes into your aimless drive to town to get your brother his sandwich and coffee, you saw a man staggering down the side of the road.

“Gotta love the dedicated drunks,” you mumbled as you rolled past him, diverting your eyes from the road to the stranger. But what you saw of him made you do a double take, and quickly pull the truck to the side of the road.

Throwing the truck in park, but leaving it to idle, you jumped out and cautiously approached him.

His clothes were dirty and torn; half his face was covered in splotches of mud, the other half a mix of fresh and dried blood. You saw the cut on his head and the grimace of pain on his face, as he finally registered you standing there.

“Are—are you ok?” you asked, feeling stupid asking because he clearly was not. His eyes met yours, and he squinted as if trying to focus on you and not the stretch of road ahead of him. “Sir?”

“Huh?” he grunted and shielded his eyes against the sun above. “I…I—uh, do you know where this is?”

He was more shuffling his feet than walking, but he finally stopped; bending slightly, resting his hands on his knees and letting his head hang for a moment. When he stood, his expression was wrought with pain, and all you could think was to get him to a hospital. You considered 911 for a minute, but living as remotely as you did, it would be quicker to just take him to the ER yourself.

The man stumbled, and you rushed to his side and held him up as best you could. He wasn’t incredibly large, but tall enough and had enough solid muscle that your smaller frame nearly buckled under his weight. You did manage to steer him back towards the truck and he leaned against it gratefully as you opened the door and helped him in.

Climbing back into the driver’s side, you saw he was still conscious, but fading fast.

“Do you know your name?” you asked, hoping against hope that he remembered. But he just shook his head and grappled with the pain that coursed through him. “Ok, well, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, you don’t—”

“No!” he grunted and wrapped his arms around his ribs. “No hospitals.”

“But, you’re clearly hurt, and buddy, I’m no nurse.”

“Then leave me here,” he winced again, “just pull over. No hospitals…” with that, he passed out.

A simple ride to town had taken a very unexpected turn. Stopping to help someone was one thing, but this was more than you bargained for. However, this stranger had an aura around him that seemed alluring, yet very dangerous. This wasn’t a simple accident that he staggered away from; this man had been beaten badly by something or someone and needed medical attention. Yet, he refused it. There had to be a reason, and even though he was a stranger, you were apprehensively okay granting his request.

“Alright mister, you win. No hospitals.”

You turned the truck around on the deserted road and headed back to your house. Shane’s sandwich would have to wait.

  “Look, something came up, alright? Shane, please…” you paused to endure more of his angry ranting and kept trying to squeeze in what you were trying to stay, “… just handle the store for me… just tonight. Okay? Close it up early if you must. I’ll try to get there as soon as I can in the a.m.”

Shane mumbled and cursed you under his breath, but you held the phone from your ear while he did so. He had tried calling your cell phone half a dozen times when you didn’t return with his sandwich, but you didn’t answer until the house phone began ringing non-stop.

A string of expletives and harassing remarks were hurled at you down the phone line, and you stood there listening to it all, as you had done many times in the past. Finally, he reluctantly agreed to close the store and do what you asked, allowing you to hang up and go check on the drifter in your house.

You had managed to get him to your house and to the spare bedroom downstairs. After a quick evaluation, you tended to the cut on his head as best as you could and noticed a large amount of bruising by his ribs. Assuming they were broken or at least fractured, you did your best to wrap them the way your mom had shown you when you were younger. Far too many bruises and broken bones just made it easier for her to patch you up back then, then trying to explain to the doctor how you fell, again.

The man swam in and out of consciousness for the next twelve hours. You tried to give him time to rest, but you feared finding a dead stranger in the room, which caused to you to check in on him, almost neurotically, every fifteen minutes.

Finally, sometime after midnight you checked in one last time, saw he was awake and struggling to sit up on the bed. He saw you standing there and offered a weak smile as you aided him in getting up completely.

“Thanks,” he grunted, his voice raspy and deep.

“I’ll get you some water,” you said after getting up and heading for the door. “Maybe some aspirin?”

He nodded.

It only took but a minute, but you returned with the pills and bottle of cold water. He took them gratefully, but also with great pain.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital? I really think you need stitches on your head,” you pointed towards the gash on his brow and he waved you off.

“No, I’m fine. I can’t—uh, I just don’t want to go to a hospital.”

“Fair enough. Do you at least remember your name now?”

He thought for a moment, his green eyes flickering quickly back and forth. He was searching for an answer and his expression lead you to believe it was right there… but he couldn’t grab it.

He shook his head slowly.

“Ok, no problem. It’ll come back to you. What do you remember?”

He closed his eyes; his brow furrowed in recollection, “I remember a car. A black car. I was driving. I think I was being chased—” He stopped immediately, shook his head of whatever details remained. “That’s it. I’m sorry.”

“No need for that. Let’s get you cleaned up and fed now that you’re up. A hot shower and some grub may help you feel a bit more human.”

“It’s a step in the right direction,” he joked, even chuckling a bit despite the pain it caused.

“Let me grab you some towels and clothes. My stepbrother left a bunch of stuff here before he moved out so it might be big, but at least its clean.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell me your name.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you answered with a partial smile. “Nice to meet you, stranger.”

You left the room and gathered some essentials for him. When you got back to the room and walked in, he was struggling to remove his shirt because the pain it caused in his side. Throwing the stuff on the bed, you helped him get the torn black t-shirt over his head and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Something funny?”

“No, it's just…” you paused, realizing how inappropriate your thought was, and even more so to say out loud to this man you didn’t know, but you couldn’t help yourself. “This feels like a bad porno plot…you know, hurt stranger needs help undressing, unsuspecting heroine loses clothes too.”

“At least a dozen,” he said and laughed heartily, and you did too.

This was the most he’d said since you found him, and despite not knowing anything about him, you found him charming. You tried not to stare at him sans shirt but did notice the tattoo on his chest. It was unique, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Thick black lines of a pentagram with a circle of something around it, again, all in black. There was no point in asking him about it, he probably wouldn’t remember it.

“Anyway, there’s clean clothes and such. I think your shirt is ruined but leave the dirty clothes out and I can wash them up for you. Come on out to the kitchen when you’re done. I can rewrap your ribs and I’ll have some leftovers I can heat up for you.”

You turned to leave, but he lightly touched your arm to stop you. “Hey, uh, thank you. For the clothes, the bandages, everything. I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure. I mean, who are we really if we can’t help a stranger in need,” you shrugged and gave the man a friendly wink before leaving and closing the door behind you.

Once you heard the inner door close, and the shower turn on in the spare room, you went in and gathered the clothes he’d left for you. Bringing them to the washer, you fished through the pockets to be sure there wasn’t anything that could be ruined, or that would ruin your machine. Buried deep in the 5th pocket was a small, folded piece of paper. You threw the clothes into the washer and unfolded it. It simply said:

 Dean,

Shifter at the Damon’s. Meet there at 3.

~ E.

 “Dean…” you whispered to the empty room. “I guess your name is Dean.” Looking down at the note again, you kept going back to the first word… Shifter. “What the fuck is a shifter?”

He rejoined you an hour later; Shane’s clothes were far too big on him, but he made it work. Now that he was properly cleaned of the mud and blood, you saw how really striking he was. His green eyes were brighter now, giving way too little creases at the corners when he smiled. He drew in the scent of the kitchen, and it was the first time you saw a true grin unfold across his face. When he walked, the pain was still evident in his expression, but he seemed to take it in stride, never once grunting or complaining.

“Whatever you heated up smells great,” he said and took a seat at your small, round table.

“It’s just some Shepherd’s Pie. Hope you aren’t a vegetarian or anything.”

“Honestly, I doubt it. But if I am, maybe its time for a change. Cause that really smells good,” he licked his lips and looked past you at the pan cooling on the stove.

“Oh, I found this…” you took the paper from your pocket and handed it to him. “Sorry, for snooping. I looked through your jean pockets before washing them and that was folded up really small. I could be wrong, but I am assuming you’re Dean.”

He studied the paper, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I’m ‘E’.”

“Well, I thought of that,” you said and motioned towards the pen and paper on the table. “Copy the note on that and if the handwriting matches…”

“Then I’m ‘E’,” he finished, nodding in agreement. “Smart thinking.”

You watched as he copied the note word for word. Holding them up for comparison, the answer was clear. “You are definitely not ‘E’,” you laughed holding the two papers side by side. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dean.”

  Four Days Later...

“Are you sure about this, Dean?”

“Yeah, I’m positive. Look, I feel great. I am 100% up to this.”

He had taken the last few days to rest and heal as much as possible. The cut on his head had healed well with the suture band-aids you’d found in the pharmacy a few towns over. His ribs were sore, but Dean swore to you they were no longer causing him intense pain. His memory was still vacant, but it didn’t seem to bother him. If anything, Dean was content with just resting and healing in your spare bedroom, spending most of his time watching movies or surfing through Netflix.

“You’re a liar. But, I’d rather have you in the store and not Shane. He truly does drive me crazy.”

“Then it’s settled. Just tell Shane you hired me to help and he can spend more time, somewhere else. Not nosing around here and bothering you.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at you, looking for your agreement. Nodding in return, you shut off the truck’s engine and headed towards the store. The normal early morning customers were floating in and out of the entrance, all passing greetings as they went and giving Dean a firm once over.

“Come on,” you whispered and grabbed his arm, “let’s go around back. You can hang in the office until I talk to Shane.”

Leaving Dean to wait in the back room, you made your way through the aisles of pantry essentials and knick-knacks and found your stepbrother behind the register, the usual glower of anger attached to his face. He must have sensed you there and looked up, immediately meeting your gaze. You could see even from a distance, that he had been drinking already and it was barely nine in the morning. His demeanor towards the customers was meaner than usual, and he could barely stand up without swaying back and forth or holding onto the counter.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” he yelled across the store. “The Queen Dame herself! Aren’t we peons so lucky, she’s decided—”

“Shut the fuck up, Shane,” one of the guys in line spoke up. “Stop being an ass so early in the mornin’, ‘n leave her alone.”

“You shut it, Billy. This is between me and the princess here. Get your shit and go,” Shane grunted, pushing the change roughly into his hand.

As the last customer scurried away, you approached the counter and tried to lead the conversation with a smile.

“So, listen. I appreciate all you’ve done to help me out here while I needed it, but I found someone to help out. You are free to go back home and—”

“You’re kicking me out? Of my own place?” His face was glowing bright red from the anger building up.

“Your place?”

“Might as well be! I do all the work around here while you sit in that cushy office. Who chops the wood and bundles it? Hmm? Who stocks the shelves, and does inventory, and runs the register when you disappear for hours? Huh?!” His voice was growing louder and louder, and you were just grateful there were no customers left.

“Shane, please…”

“No! This is bullshit, you can’t just kick me out!”

“Actually, buddy, she can,” Dean spoke up, making you whirl around to see him standing close behind you. His arms were crossed over his chest, his stance assured and ready.

“Dean, you don’t have too,” you whispered as he started to approach Shane.

“Y/N, its fine,” he said without giving you a passing glance, but just rested his hand on your shoulder as he walked by.

“Who the fuck are you?” Shane questioned, a drunken burp penetrating his words.

“I’m the guy who is asking you nicely to leave. I’ll be helping out around here so you can go back to whatever cave you came from.”

Shane laughed loudly, but nothing about it was jovial. You had seen the look he had in his eyes; it was the same one his dad would get before backhanding you across the face. Your body involuntarily reacted as he huffed around the corner of the register and straight towards you.

“This place is as much mine as it is hers. MY father ran it! It’s rightfully mine!”

“Yeah, after MY mother died and he took it from me,” you growled, your own pent-up rage about the past starting to surface.

Shane didn’t take your comment with any sort of cool demeanor. His anger was growing and while you chalked it up mostly to the alcohol, you knew he had it buried in him for the same reasons you did. The difference was you didn’t let it affect how you treated others; he did. Shane’s fists were balling in and out, ready to hit something. Dean placed himself squarely between the two of you; his own fists ready for the challenge.

“Move,” he growled at Dean, but it only made him laugh.

Looking up at Shane, he shook his head and crossed his arms again. “No.”

“This ain’t your fight, hoss. She wants me gone, she’s gonna have to fight me for it.”

“Dude, what are you, six? Can’t cry to mommy cause ‘lil sister took your toy? Grow the fuck up, man. But more importantly, get the fuck out. Y/N and I can run the place and we don’t need your help. As for who’s property this is, check the lease, dickhead. It clearly has her name on all the paperwork. As do all the permits saying it’s a lawfully opened business.”

“You fucking this guy or something?” he asked you with a chuckle. “Can’t believe anyone would wanna touch—”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” Dean mumbled just before clenching his fist and bringing it around to Shane’s jaw.

Dean’s knuckles make a sickening crack when they met Shane’s face. You could see Dean wince in pain, but it didn’t slow him down. He threw another punch almost immediately, sending Shane stumbling backward into one of the displays holding chips and candy, knocking it over and scattering the merchandise everywhere.

Shane went to get on his feet, but Dean was there before he could, placing one booted foot on his chest. “Do you need to be asked again? Or can you leave quietly now?”

Staring at him in disbelief, Shane was speechless. Dean was calm and collected, his voice never raised, nor did he escalate the fight further. He allowed your step-brother to find his footing, the alcohol and Dean’s assault causing him to sway back and forth. His red, bloodshot eyes were adjusting to the room, his head swimming in what just happened.

“I, uh… I’ll go. But this isn’t over,” he warned, though without must gusto.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean said and walked towards the main entrance. He opened the door and waited for Shane to leave. When he got close enough, Dean grabbed him by the back of the shirt and “nudged” him out, but not before Shane “accidentally” crashed into the wooden door frame.

“Oops, watch it, buddy. Maybe start drinking a bit later in the day, huh?” Dean advised him and gave him a final shove out the door, then closing it and locking it behind him.

“Wait! My keys—”

“Fat chance my friend. No way you’re driving. Walk it off and pick them up tomorrow.”

Dean pulled the shade down that covered the glass when the store was closed, finally obscuring you from having to see Shane’s face.

“You alright?” he asked, taking your shoulders beneath his hands and meeting your eyes.

“Yeah, I think so. He’s just…”

“He’s an ass. I can see why you wanted him gone.”

“Thank you. But Dean, you—you can’t stay here. I mean, you have a life somewhere. I guarantee someone is looking for you. Don’t you want to know who they are… who you are?”

“I know who I am, Y/N. I’m Dean and today, I start my new job at this here General Store. For now, that’s enough. Besides, after all, you’ve done for me, I want to help you out. Getting rid of sasquatch over there was a start, but I’m here to work, too. Point me in a direction and use me.”

His playful smirk affected you more than you cared to admit. Sure, Dean was good looking, that wasn’t up for debate, but in the last couple days he’d been around, you continually found yourself highly affected by most of what he said and did. He was kind and funny, and even while in great pain, made you feel appreciated and that he actually enjoyed your company. You didn’t want him to go, but you also felt guilty keeping him when he wasn’t yours.

“What if you have a wife… hell, a husband… a family... friends? What about them?”

“I would think if I had any of those things, I would feel it. I would feel it somewhere inside. That nagging itch that I needed to get to someone. But I don’t.”

“What about ‘E’? Maybe—”

Dean gently, but without hesitation, caressed your cheek, a twitch of a smile playing around his lips. “I’m right where I want to be. Cross my heart.”

Part 2 Published 7/27/18. 

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[theycallmethetailor-blog]

An Impossible Choice Part 2

An Impossible Choice

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Chapter: 2/? Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Lance (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Coran (Voltron) Additional Tags: Torture, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Torture, Angst, Langst, POV Lance (Voltron) Summary:

"What I woke to was not ideal, I’ll be honest, but it was much better than what I’d been expecting. First of all, I was alive, so that was a plus in my book. I mean, me being alive was a plus in anyone’s book, right? Secondly, aside from a splitting headache and a few scrapes and bruises, I was fine. I wasn’t bleeding out on the desolate desert landscape from my most recent memory, which would’ve sucked. So yeah, all in all, even though I was strapped to a hard metal chair in complete darkness without a clue where I was, things could be a lot suckier."

---

When Lance and Pidge are captured, Pidge is forced to make an impossible choice: help the Galrans murder millions or watch Lance suffer.

Pidge couldn’t get her lungs to fill all the way with air. Instead, they felt compressed and her breaths came rushed and shallow to compensate for their constricted state. She forced herself to focus on keeping her bare feet pounding, one after the other, into the cold unforgiving metal of the floor. She didn’t dare think beyond that. If she did, her limbs might go stiff with guilt, gutting her will to move forward. She couldn’t let herself fall behind. She couldn’t add to her already mounting pile of crimes against her fellow paladins. She owed it to them - to Lance - to help see their way out of this hell hole.

A sudden blaring alarm cut through her thoughts, adding its cacophony to the inexorable beating of her heart in her eardrums. Can’t worry about that right now. She urged herself onward blindly. Just have to keep moving. Don’t stop.

“Damn,” Keith said from her right, his voice tight, though his steps didn’t falter, “Thought we were supposed to have more time.”

“Doesn’t change the plan,” Shiro said, his words echoing Pidge’s thoughts, “We need to keep moving.” Lance was slung in a fireman’s carry over his shoulder, the blue paladin’s haphazardly bandaged hand dangling limply down the black paladin’s back. Pidge quickly glanced back down, away from the sight. They approached a blind corner and ahead of them and Coran motioned for them to stop as he peered around to check for incoming guards. Pidge leaned against the wall, panting heavily, edges of her vision darkening.

Your fault. Her thoughts sliced with sharp bitterness into her resolve to keep moving. She clenched her fists, nails cutting into her skin, and gritted her teeth against stinging tears. Now was not the time for her to wallow in useless emotions. Why was she being like this? And why couldn’t she seem to get in a proper breath? It wasn’t like she’d been injured in her chest or anything. Her heart wouldn’t slow down either. What was wrong with her?

Pidge started at a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Keith looking down at her, a concerned look on his face. Did she look that bad? “Hey Pidge, you okay? Maybe I should look at your arm.”

Keith’s concern only served to compound her guilt. She shrugged his hand away roughly. “I’m fine,” she said, the words coming out harsher than she meant them to, and Keith’s eyes widened slightly, his hand pulling away to hover over her shoulder. She turned away from the expression to look down the hall. “Let’s just focus on getting La-” she sucked in a breath, “Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

Coran motioned them forward, and they all took off together. Their mad dash down the maze like corridors of this hellish place becoming a peripheral blur around Pidge as she returned her focus back to her pounding steps. Shiro’s breaths were becoming more labored, the strain of carrying another person for so long starting to challenge even him. She heard him mutter something into his communicator, presumably to Allura, but didn’t really focus enough to hear the words.

Pidge’s only warning that something was wrong was Coran’s shout of surprise and Keith’s restraining hand on her arm just before a thunderous boom shook the ground around them. She would’ve lost her footing if not for Keith’s grip. She saw Shiro had a bracing arm against the wall, clearly almost thrown off balance as well. She was just glad he’d managed to remain upright.

“Our getaway ride is just on the other side of that door,” Coran said, trying to hide it under his usual bluster, but clearly anxious.

She looked down the corridor to see an emergency security door had slammed shut, blocking off their only path forward. There was a control panel at the side, and Pidge immediately tore from Keith’s grip to approach it. “I’m on it,” she said woodenly, feeling her mind settle automatically into the comfortable train of branching thoughts that always helped her problem solve. This was her bread and butter. This was how she helped the team. She was perversely gratified by this roadblock to their escape, and she hated herself for it.

She forced herself to ignore the shouts of alarm from her teammates and the blasts of gunfire behind her and focused on the task at hand. Only her mind was suddenly miles away, back to when she’d been focusing just like this. Blocking out all possible distractions in favor of disarming the weapon for mass murder before her. All possible distractions including Lance. In the present, her hands hovered over the control panel, shaking. She willed them to move, to work their magic, but like her lungs and heart, they refused to cooperate.

“Pidge! Move!” Someone shouted behind her, and she shook her head mutely. She could do this. She just needed a second. A small part of her even believed that.

“Pidge! There’s not much time!” Came another voice, and the fear she could hear only made her hands shake harder. Move! She railed angrily against her own immobility. Why won’t you move?

“Damnit, Pidge, look out!” Keith shouted from behind her just as she was thrown sideways by the force of his body striking her side. Not a second later, another low rumble shook the structure around them, making Pidge’s bones vibrate. The door that had been blocking their path was flung into the corridor like it weighed nothing, slamming into the unprepared Galran soldiers behind them. Pidge and Keith landed hard on the ground, the force of the impact jarring Pidge’s arm, bringing the heretofore ignored injury to the forefront of her attention.

She cried out before she could stop herself, and Keith quickly rolled off of her. His face slid into her line of vision, eyebrows knit tightly with outright worry now. His eyes slid to her arm, then back to her face. She schooled her features into a scowl and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She couldn’t meet Keith’s eyes, though. She’d endangered his life, all because of her blind stubbornness. Just like she’d done to-

Pidge swallowed hard, horrified to feel hot tears on her face.

“Come on,” Keith said, holding out a hand to her, voice uncharacteristically gentle, “Homestretch. Almost out of here.”

She lifted her hand, hating how weak and useless she felt in that moment, but knowing she’d feel that much worse if she let her obstinacy make things any worse than it already had.

The chamber previously sealed off by the the security door was still hazy with smoke from the recent explosion, but Pidge could make out Hunk’s silhouette in front of the mouth of his lion, large bayard held at the ready and smoke curling up from its barrel. Well. That was new. As the smoke cleared and they got closer, she saw a disturbingly hard expression in his face that gave her pause. The look quickly dissolved into relief at the sight of them, then one of wide-eyed worry when his eyes landed on Lance. All color drained from his face.

“Oh man, what happened? Is he okay?” He asked, and each desperate word drove the knife of guilt deeper into Pidge’s chest.

“Move now. Talk later.” Shiro said, not unkindly, moving quickly past Hunk to enter the yellow lion.

Hunk straightened immediately, the familiar tone of command bringing him into focus. “Right. Of course.” He turned closely to follow Shiro to get into the pilot’s seat to prepare for a quick getaway.

Keith and Pidge were right behind him, followed closely by Coran, who kept his other smaller firearm held at the ready until the yellow lion’s mouth sealed shut with comforting finality.

----

The yellow lion, which had been chosen for the breech for its brute force capabilities, made the escape with less finesse and speed than the other lions would have. What in lacked in agility, though, it more than made up for in sheer endurance against the barrage of countermeasures the Galran base threw at them. Hunk was unusually quiet, his normal nervous chatter completely absent, making Pidge paradoxically more anxious.

It didn’t help that Hunk’s silence was filled by Shiro and Coran’s strained voices as they saw to Lance.

Coran was running a medical scanner over Lance’s body, his jaw muscles twitching as he did so. “His heart rate does not appear normal for your kind,” he said, words a conspicuously professional contrast to his abnormally gruff tones.

Pidge huddled further into herself in the far corner she’d settled in. Out of the way where she couldn’t cause any more damage, though Keith insisted on hovering by her side for some reason. She barely noticed as he wordlessly cut open her sleeve to apply a soothing gel to her arm. All her attention was fixed on her fallen friend.

She watched as Coran continued the scan, his hand stopping above Lance’s stomach where the Galran commander had applied her hideous tool. Images of Lance’s face, contorted in agony, flashed unbidden to her mind’s eye. Her whole body shuddered and she pulled away from Keith’s ministrations.

“Pidge, please. I need to-”

“Just stop.” Pidge said, dodging out of his tentative reach to continue his work. “Leave me alone. I told you I’m fine.”

“Pidge,” Keith started again, holding out his hand tentatively, like she was some feral animal he was was trying to slowly coax into his care. His soothing tone sparked an irrational burst of anger in Pidge.

“I said stop!” She shouted. His kindness was the last thing in the world she wanted right now. It look Pidge a moment to realize everyone but Hunk was staring at her, jaws slack and eyes concerned. “Stop looking at me like that.” she muttered sharply, averting her gaze to look at Lance’s prone form, “For the last time, I said I was fine.”

Some small part of her knew she was being unreasonable, but she needed them to see. To understand that she didn’t deserve their kindness. She’d lost any right to that the moment she’d said ‘No’ in that room with Lance. If they knew what she’d done, they wouldn’t be looking at her like that. They wouldn't look at her at all.

As Pidge looked on, at a loss for words, Lance’s body suddenly seized. It was a horrifying marionette’s parody of all the times he’d been shocked with the Galrans’ awful tool, his muscles taut as fence wire and his face rigid with pain even as his eyes remained closed.  Shiro moved instantly to Lance’s head, cushioning the blue paladin’s skull with the quickest tool at his disposal; his lap. Pidge watched, just as hopeless as she’d been when they were at the commander’s mercy, as Lance continued to convulse. It passed quickly. It was only a matter of seconds, but it might as well have been a lifetime.

As soon as his body settled back into stillness, Coran and Shiro set back to work treating Lance, their movements efficient but careful. Pidge wrapped her arms rightly around her knees and buried her face, effectively cutting off any further attempts to approach her. She stayed that way, listening to her teammates’ worried voices as they sought to save Lance’s life, punctuated the whole way with pained moans and whimpers in an all too recognizable voice. Pidge longed to shove her hands over her ears, but her helmet ruled out that option, so she just kept her vise grip on her legs, fingers going numb from the pressure. It was all she could do not to dissolve into a gibbering mess. She made herself hold on though, because it would only distract her teammates from what mattered, and she could at least hold it together till they made it back to the castle.

It was easily the longest ride of her life.

[gosetmind]

How to distract your thoughts [AND calm your mind]

Everyone has pleasant thoughts or emotional experiences, but there are also some thoughts and emotions that can only make people frustrated or nervous.

When we are nervous, our minds often seem to think about the millions of things at the same time, and the last thing we want is a mess. Therefore, it is important to be able to take a little time to calm down, to be able to see a thing from a holistic perspective, and then learn to put it down.

Here are a few ways to distract your thoughts. We'll first explore why people are entangled in certain thoughts or emotions, and then give you advice on how to solve the problem.

Focus on your current affairs

  Thinking sometimes wanders away from the "backstage" of the brain, so focus it immediately on one of your current thoughts, and realize that there is often more than one thought in the brain - and some of the thinking in the back of the brain is less noticed by the brain. You can say to yourself, "That's how I feel right now.""Or "I'm thinking about it now" so that your mind will focus and you don't continue to wander away. But usually when you really focus on a thought, you can quickly put it down because the brain thoroughly scanned it.

When you appreciate a picture of peace, your brain is easy to calm down and let go of some thoughts, but don't think hard about what you're going to forget.

Look at your thoughts and understand how your thoughts and feelings control you

When we look at some of our thoughts, it's not hard to see that a thought actually has two sides - themes and processes. The process is the activity in which you think or experience emotion.

Sometimes the brain's thought process has no subject, and the brain is in an irrational and wild state of consciousness. This is because when a person feels physical pain, the brain feels afraid. It activates protective mechanisms, and uses an idea to appease or distract itself. If you look at your brain in a way that looks at the machine, you'll find that the brain is simply just casually grasping an idea as the subject of one's own thinking.

The idea of having a theme is often more obvious, and you may feel angry, worried, or feel other things about what you think, which is often repeated many times and is tightly centered around a topic.

Being kind to yourself, gives your brain a positive hint that it's good to let go of unpleasant thoughts.

Realize that self-blame is useless

If you blame yourself for the subject matter of certain thoughts, the problem becomes even more difficult. For example, you may be wondering how much you hate someone and immediately feel guilty or angry about your thoughts.

In fact, letting go doesn't mean you're going to distinguish right from wrong, it's not about you tell right from wrong. Don't feel that frustration, worry, hatred and anger are wrong, and don't feel that these emotions shouldn't exist and shouldn't affect us, otherwise, once you start blaming yourself, more problems will arise. There will be a root in your mind. The deep cause-and-effect process is built and will become more difficult to control in the future.

Accepting your thoughts and emotions is the first step in letting them go, and self-blame is often the beginning of more problems. Self-blame makes your brain impose a series of unrelated thoughts and emotions on you. Keep in mind that all the tools I use to manipulate come from the brain, so the brain manipulates the body much more than we think. Some parts of the brain sometimes sink. Obsessed with things that cannot be self-indulgent, and thus indulge our desires, so that we are enslaved by desires. In general, the driving force behind all our thoughts and emotions is desire. 

Think about how you're related to these thoughts and emotions

The mind runs by habit, so even when you think you've forgotten a thought or emotion, they still bounce back. It's time to make up your mind to let go again. Not only to stop this series of thoughts from resurgent, but also to prevent them from entangled in newly formed thoughts or emotions.

The difficulty lies in the central problem: we must radically alienated the brain from thought themes and processes about thoughts or emotions. If we realize that this thought theme and process is not good for our lives today, then the problem can be solved. However, we do not want to ignore the themes and processes of some thoughts and don't think they're going to increase our stress because we want to figure out what this thought means (that is, when we have anger, anxiety, and so on, we want to figure out who we're thinking about, where we have it, what it means, and why we think about it).

This desire to "find out" is even stronger than the desire to put it down, in which case it becomes more difficult to put it down when it is overcome by another stronger desire. If you're just tangled up because you want to tangle, you'll be in a paradoxical situation if you don't pay attention (on the one hand, you want to put it down. On the other hand, you want to figure out what your thoughts and emotions mean). At this point, although the brain is suspected of getting out of control, in fact, your brain is still in control of the mind, so you can use this self-struggle to distract yourself. In the face of the powerful thinking of "I want to figure it out", you have to say to yourself, "Okay, it's time to put it down" all the way to your heart. The desire to put down is stronger than the desire to continue to tangle.

Another problem is that emotions are often seen as part of the self. We are usually reluctant to admit that it is we who sometimes make us feel pain and sorrow. It has long been taught that "all" emotions are precious and part of who we are. But what we don't know is that there are emotions that don't cause tension, but.There are also emotions that cause tension. The explanation is clear: you need to spend enough time looking at your thoughts and emotions without any self-blame, and then decide whether they are worth cherishing or better to put them down.

Thoughts distraction in practice

  If you have a thought around a topic that you want to forget about, try these experiments:

1. Try not to think of a polar bear, or more surprisingly, a coffee-drinking purple flamingo with dots. The experiment is very old, but it can effectively demonstrate the power of thinking. And as a result of this experiment, the harder you try not to think about polar bears, the more you struggle with polar bears' thoughts. As with the sign of an unpleasant thought, you need to tighten your nerves when you do so, and the subject you want to forget is the subject of your best efforts. So the harder you try to avoid polar bears, the more distinctive the polar bear's image becomes.

2. It's like you want to put down a pen.

To put down this pen, you must first take it.

You keep thinking about putting down the pen, you have to hold it all the time.

Logically, if you still hold the pen, but keep the thought of "put it down" in your heart, you can't put it down.

The more you focus on "I'm going to put this pen down," the more you can't put it down.

Don't deliberately struggle with certain thoughts and emotions so you can let go

The above-mentioned truth also applies in thinking. The more desperate we try to put aside a thought, the more we will focus on that thought and the more tension and stress we will put on the brain. The more we respond to the protective effects of an attack, and the more we can't let go. To break out of this vicious circle, learn to relax. Release your hand, the pen will fall off on its own; relax your brain, and unpleasant thoughts will disappear automatically. If you've tried desperately to forget one thing before, this reaction to self-struggle and self-protection may already be ingrained in your brain, and you'll need a little time to break the inertia.

That's what the brain is all about. When we are entangled in thoughts and emotions and desperately trying to destroy them, they are relying on no place to go and firmly stay in our minds. Only when we relax can we really distract our thoughts and put it down.

Techniques to deal with thoughts and emotions

There are many ways to deal with recurring annoying thoughts and emotions, and here are some examples for you to refer to:

1. Is there a book, a movie, or something you've seen or done so many times that you're tired of it? If so, think of those ideas as movies until you get tired of them, so you can easily put them down.

2. If you can't put it down, manipulate it. Play it back in your head, twist it, change it, and eventually you'll find that you're the one who's leading it. Although a softer idea replaces an unpleasant one is only a temporary one, it is also effective. Forget when you twist an idea to an acceptable level.It's easier.

3. Clear measurement standard. There are two benefits to a clear measurement: one is that you can detect it quickly when something unpleasant happens, and the other is that it can provide you with a way out of negative thoughts and emotions.

4. If you're entangled in an emotion, ask yourself, "Is it good for me," or "Is it helping me," or "I don't want that emotion." If you find this emotion to be of little benefit, then realizing it can support you overcome it, get rid of it, and regain your self-confidence.

5. Practice meditation. Meditation can help you focus on your current affairs, which can help you move away from the controls that haunt your thoughts and emotions.

6. Imagination. If you're a busy person, imagination will work for you. Here's an example:

Imagine a beautiful, empty, flower-filled wilderness or other pleasant scenery. Explore inside and enjoy the blue sky and fresh air. Then imagine a city uprooted in this wilderness, with tall buildings, streets and cars everywhere. Now, let the city disappear and return to the empty, beautiful wilderness.

The picture you imagine has the following meaning: the field represents our brain. It turned out to be empty as well as calm. But rising cities are like the thoughts and emotions we force to add. With the passage of time, we slowly adapted to the city's noisy existence and forget the once foot of the wilderness, but that piece of calm never left. And when you put those thoughts and emotions down, the high-rise buildings on the field disappeared, and the calm and serene wilderness came back. You know, unpleasant thoughts and emotions are just tall buildings built on calm fields, and you can destroy them at any time and embrace the land of happiness and serenity. Accept your negative thoughts and feelings and let go.

How can i calm my mind

  To calm the impetuous mind, you don't necessarily need to do long-term body-building events to cultivate, master some tips about emotions, soothing impetuousness is a very simple thing.

1. Comfort Object

Winnicott has proposed a concept called "transitional object", which represents the transitional object, often a blanket, an old dress, a soft doll, or some repetitive action, the real transition object refers to something between the mother and the external object.

The transitional object exists in the transition phase of the baby from the perception that he or she is the one with the mother with the perception that he or she is separated from the mother.

Transition object is the mother's substitute, often with the mother's soft, touching, intimate characteristics, can help the baby to fight anxiety, loneliness, is the carrier of the baby's sense of security and dependence.

So when we feel impetuous, we can choose to stroke some soft dolls, which can help us experience the feeling of peace of mind, soothe our impetuous mood, as if back to the mother's warm embrace.

In addition, when touching soft things, our body secretes endocrine and oxytocin. These hormones are hormones that make people feel calm and content.

We also secrete these hormones when we embrace the people we like.

If you want to fight impetuousness, you have to grasp the characteristics of what we like about softness.

2. Cold

People's mood will be affected by the weather. On cloudy days, many people will feel unhappy. On sunny days, many people will feel happy. This phenomenon may be related to the amount of sunlight caused by the body secreted pineal hormones difference.

In addition to the short weather will affect people's mood, there are also continuous seasons can also affect people's mood, psychologically known as seasonal psychological disorders.

In late spring and early summer people are more likely to develop mania until the end of autumn, and in late autumn and early winter people are more likely to develop depressive emotions until the end of late spring and early summer.

Seasonal psychological disorders are often related to physiological rhythm disorders and endocrine disorders that occur with seasonal changes.

This can be artificially manipulated, for example, in a cold winter, order a glass of iced drink will make our hearts feel cold.

When we feel impetuous, we can try to drink some cold drinks, or take a bath to change our physiological feelings, and then change the impetuous psychological feelings.

3. Sort things out

Impulsiveness is divided into two situations. The first is impetuous mood, which relates to the cycle of emotions; the second is impetuous because of specific things. These two kinds of impetuousness cannot be solved in the same way.

When we feel impetuous because of something specific, such as debt, it makes a person impetuous, we cannot escape the problem, but to sort things out, especially in an interesting way.

Debt only gives one person a part of the trouble, and the other trouble comes from the fact that he doesn't know as much about it as he thought he did, and he doesn't know the details of his specific debt.

Therefore, the person can try to draw the date of the debt, the amount, the repayment plan, as well as his every consumption situation.

In doing so, he would be very interested in his bills and would have a sense of identity with them.

This method can also be used for other specific things, and the specific things can be sorted out in an interesting and detailed manner.

4. Immersive experience

Impetuousness is a mentality that doesn't want to know things, it's like a white bear in the white bear effect, it's a compulsive concept.

When we deal with impetuousness, we can choose between two methods.

The first is to do some mechanical action.

For example, staring at your own clothes, and then constantly meditated on the heart of this dress is good-looking, or keep playing with their fingers, so that we can concentrate, naturally indulge in things, also remove impetuousness.

The second way is not to do mechanical action, but to do activities that will allow us to experience an immersive, such as playing games, listening to music, etc.

Try choosing songs with light rhythms, or you can choose songs with soothing rhythms that often change people's moods, whether high or low, to help calm your mind.

Conclusion

Practice makes perfect. If you practice more, the more negative thoughts and emotions will be distracted. Remember, inner thoughts and emotions are like the weather, they come and go, like clouds and snow, and you are the day.

It's helpful to know your brain, you just have to relax and take a little time to take a good look at your thinking activities and how they react to the outside world. You want a scientist who observes new species to be as meticulous about the brain's habits.

If you need, you should talk to a psychological consultant and don't worry about looking for help because it is good for your mental health.

It's easy to indulge in pleasant emotions, but these emotions come and go, and we can't expect to have them forever, but you can use them as a measure to identify your thoughts and emotions and calm yourself down.