#like I knew SOMEONE was doing it but I didn't know who

[gangstalkerbarbie]

In a number of societies in the past, there were jobs reserved for people with isolating conditions or people with disabilities — in some Arctic cultures shamans are born, not made, because shamanhood is one such job for people we would call schizophrenic, for example.

In pre-revolution Ukraine, blind men who needed to support families had a protected social role as a type of lorekeeper and bard, with claim to a circuit of villages to ply their trade in. They often took in orphans to lead them around, but only taught their art to the ones that could do that work according to the rules governing it and keeping it the welfare system that it was.

There's something kind of similar with witches across religions as a job, in the same cultural sphere, because witches and folk healers (there is overlap) were touched by the other side themselves (typically you would become something like a znakharka because you were let's say an orphan with severe trauma, or so obviously what we would call borderline that someone had to teach you to control it, and if you already know what those plants do why not learn more), and therefore qualified to help other people going through it.

People didn't always like or trust them, but they fed them and made sure they were safe anyways, because there was a niche reserved for people like that even though there was very little anyone knew how to do for them.

Entire social safety nets used to exist in a wide variety of diverse places that not only provided care for people who couldn't care for themselves in some ways, but set up systems that preserved their agency. I like that people are concerned on here for the mere level of caring about people currently ostracised and people whose disabilities make them hard to be around and people who cannot do most conventional work, but when thinking about people's welfare I think it's important to also think about ways they can be integrated in your society, in your life, next to you as other human beings, right now.

Because after they leave crisis mode, once their basic needs are met, all people want to give back. I think a lot of people get stuck on taking care of the psychologically ill and variously disabled, but there are going to be times when they don't need as much help as they do now, and what are they going to feel whole and competent doing then? What has been done to create an environment where they can gainfully be employed at skills they are good at, without being forced out of those professions because other people with less to worry about can meet demand faster?

In this essay I will prove that the modern equivalent of the kobzar is the furry artist

If safety in your ideal society is entirely based on care by networks of affinity, and does not provide care for people who are not liked by anybody, then your society is actually even worse than the situation we are in now.

Pissing off people close to you or over-exhausting your social network or isolating yourself is often an inherent part of many mental health problems, addictions, etc. By the time people need care the most, they have often lost all their networks of affinity, and with some bad luck, any of us could find ourselves in that situation.

There has to be unconditional care available for the more unlikable of us, or there isn't really a safety net for any of us.

[baepsays]

Suck it and See ⸻ .03 how you met stoner Suguru.

description: of all places, Geto Suguru didn't expect to meet a girl with knee high socks, who practically pulled him in like an eager sacrifice to the Siren— at a frat party surrounded by smoke.

cw: use of she/her pronouns, fem oriented reader, mentions of drugs, weed, and alcohol; nothing much this is mostly a meet cute-ish, lore stuff really, artic monkeys references everywhere, they mild nsfw stuff.

playlist inspired by the content.

What a pleasure it is to be surrounded by sweaty people you barely know in a room full of smoke. All because your best friend is an extroverted social butterfly of a freak.

Safe to say, Geto Suguru would be anywhere but here right now. But maybe he does need some free alcohol and free cigarettes, a finance degree is the furthest thing from causation of sobriety. And as an average university student reliant on caffeine, alcohol, and cigarettes—completing his last semester and starting his big-time finance bro job later this year might I add—he is oddly conservative when it comes to weed though, if we're talking about ways to numb yourself.

The fact he has seen people actually do much worse actual hard drugs and yet he has a bigger opinion about the devil's lettuce of all things available out there. The only viable reason which can be given is that he had a stoner roommate during his first semester and it was the worst time of his entire university life. And honestly, he has seen Gojo get high for the sake of trying it, that was not fun for anyone but Shoko who was filming Suguru trying to stop Gojo from jumping off the balcony to chase a cat he apparently saw (there was no cat).

But these are excuses really. Well, Geto Suguru would not say he is repulsed by weed. In fact, he has tried it himself once. It was mostly about going along with his high school debate team who wanted to get high during one of their out-of-town tournaments. And guess what. High Suguru went on and blurted out all his little animosities to big grudges against everyone there and somehow fell asleep next to a trashcan in the hallway. Thankfully no one remembered and the video footage of all of this happening went into his hands first. He made sure to delete everything and ask around without being suspicious if anyone remembered anything he said. He was safe since they all forgot about everything.

Since then, he has steered clear of weed, it does odd things to him which no other substances do. Even when he is drunk out of his mind or buzzing with caffeine and nicotine, he is never impulsive. He always has control. And the fact he let that control slip is very scary. Matter of fact, despite his side hobby of making fun of a scared Gojo during horror movie marathons, Suguru himself didn't like being scared by something unknown or letting himself slip out in front of someone he would rather not have seen him like that .

Yet here he was, at one of the more famous frats who are known for their weed more than their alcohol and what not. I mean, it's not about where you end up but what you're looking for, right? Maybe that doesn't make much sense but so doesn't his last assignment of the semester before exams start, which carries 40% of his marks.

And for someone who isn't looking for weed, his amazing friend makes sure to pull him right into the room full of—who apparently seemed to be—stoners. Supposedly Satoru knows someone there, but he also knows way too many people for his liking. The amount of time he has to stop, stand, and stare around to wait for Satoru to finish chatting with yet another stranger—infinite really.

Regrets of ending up in that room without any alcohol in his hand, seemed to have flown right out of the room with the smoke. And it might as well have been the residual of weed in the air, but what's happening in his head was alarming. Right across from the person Satoru apparently knew, sat this gorgeous being, looking ever so effervescent and oozing mystique surrounded by clouds of smoke (he is a poet everyone). Wearing, what in his mind seemed like, the most poorly constructed skirt, practically giving away the secret eighth wonder of the world—which are those thighs. And is that fishnet? Someone please check on him, is he having a nosebleed? If not, that tight top perfectly snug around your chest, might do the job. More over the breasts, it was the neck. How can someone find a neck that beautiful? I wouldn't know, ask Suguru.

Real question is who wears knee high socks in the summer? He is not complaining, it somehow really works for you, and it works wonders on him. Again, it might be the weed. It has to be, because Geto Suguru, who is the most calculated person you'll know—sly little shit who is known for being the level headed, mysterious, lady's man— he may be just as much of a menace as Gojo and just as silly, he just knows how to mask it. And he's losing it. He's losing that control, because why aren't his ears working? His eyes refuse to focus on anything but you dragging a smoke out of the joint, which was passed to you by someone. And his legs are moving on their own towards the couch where you are sitting with the only person who you seem remotely interested in, 'might be her friend' he assumes, while ignoring this other guy who seems to be high off his mind talking about who knows what. His ears already made the effort of blocking out every sound, including Gojo's, who was calling him out because he wanted to introduce Suguru to his friend.

"Hey"

Real smooth from Mr. Lady's man over here. Incredible opener to introduce yourself to this person who may or may not be a witch cause why is he completely under this sort of trance as if he is the one sucking on that joint. Also, the fact he is just awkwardly standing in front of you while you look up at him through your lashes, unbothered and definitely high, still sitting on that couch—he must've inhaled too much weed smoke.

"Did you mean to say that to me? Because I think your friend needs you over there actually."

You say after blinking at him twice, then point across to you where Gojo and his friend are sitting. It's rather a given to be confused by this random long-haired Rapunzel to awkwardly stand before you like he doesn't know any better about how to interact socially, he's not drunk definitely, you saw him and his friend stroll in through the doors just a few minutes ago. Why would you even bother to care enough to remember that? Well, Rapunzel here is too gorgeous for his own good, secondly, you're high and feeling rather needy.

Pre-finals week suck, universal sentiment shared by all degree pursuing students. So here you are on this couch, in some frat, with your friend who's seeing one of the frat members. All you expected was some good quality rich boy weed and alcohol, nothing more really. Sleeping with someone you met at a frat party, reeks of STDs. And yet here you are looking at this gorgeous man looking like he doesn't have any thoughts behind his eyes, contrary to what you assumed, from afar he looked like a manipulative man whore. The world might be full of surprises or he's a theatre major.

"Huh?" — is all Suguru somehow manages to utter, it's illegal to smell that good while also smelling like weed, what god forsaken perfume you're using? Those eyes are enough, why do you need to crawl through all his five senses and wrap your hands around his brain.

"Huh." You say with one raised eyebrow. Seems like you've found yourself an excuse to escape.

"Seems like you don't know anything other than three lettered words starting with h."

He just stares into your eyes and lets you throw that jab at him. Really just too enchanted to speak, it's not that this is something he's choosing to do. He'd rather sit across from you and socialize with Gojo, while staring you down from time to time, then after much considerable eye contact, he'll slide himself to your side of the couch, asking your permission to have a seat, with much charisma no one can deny.

Yet here he is, not drunk, or losing his mind with weed—purely high off of sucking in your presence. This is only the second time he has lost control over a situation, and this time he is completely sober. New discoveries are made every second he supposed. Because if a sly talker like him, one who especially finds existential joy in countering the opposing person's jabs, is standing here tongue tied—he believes climate change can be reversed then. (How wishful)

You get off the couch to stand facing him, way too close to him for his sanity's sake, between the narrow gap between him and the couch—you might be shorter than him but your gaze is too piercing. And yet he cannot look away.

"Would you rather I dragged you out of this room? Maybe the smoke is getting to your head huh?"

Takes a second for Suguru to contextualize what you just suggested. And without any power to verbally respond, he simply nods into agreement. Somehow in that moment his incognizant brain decided that maybe leaving himself to your devices in this situation is the most natural thing to do. In fact, you might as well have all consumed him and he couldn't care any less.

All he cares about is that you're taking his hands in your hands, which made him think it might be a missing puzzle piece that only fits in perfectly with his, and dragging him out after a little bye to your friend and Gojo as well. Suguru is really out of it. He's not going to hear the end of it from Gojo, while he retells this story to their friends in the most overexaggerated way, which is so impossible given how ridiculous he is acting right now. Anything less dramatic than a Shakespearean play wouldn't do justice to exactly what played out in there. Yet Gojo Satoru will make sure to put a shame to Shakespeare's dramatics. That's his headache for later, let's focus on the ache in his palpitating heart.

You drag him out of that room, into the big living room or space and then drag him through the crowd to one of the rooms on the first floor, and take him straight to the balcony attached to it. The balcony sits right above the pool. Below you two, you can see most people congregating around there, swimming or just dancing or talking. Most of the speakers are there playing every frat bro's Spotify rotation probably. It's dark enough and tucked away nicely for anyone to notice you two there even if they look up—you saw this balcony the first time you visited this house with your friend cause of the guy she was seeing and since it was not a party, it was clear in the daylight that it was a nice place to people watch from. Or just enjoy the music,

'And her lips are like the galaxy's edge

And her kiss the colour of a constellation fallin’ into place'

Suguru couldn't agree more. If he didn't know any better— he'd say the song was about you. Because right now he is pulling out the lighter out of his pockets. Moving it towards your direction and halting halfway in the little space in between you two. Suguru wouldn't write this out as some kind gesture. He would never even think of sharing his prized lighter. It has been with him since he found it one day visiting his grandma's village home with his parents. Lying in a puddle of mud near the river that flowed behind her house. Scratch random people he wouldn't even let Satoru touch it or let Shoko take a light with it. Yet here he is— silently helping you out all because it looked like with the roll of a joint tucked in your bra, you forgot to bring a light.

You stare back and forth between the burning flame and his face. Contemplating perhaps. Then you move forward grab a hold on his hand, which was holding up the lighter, just a bit far for you to easily lean in and ignite the blunt. So you move, move to now sit face to face with him, both your knees on either side of his thighs—hovering over him, hands holding his, which was holding his silver lit up lighter. You lean forward probably closer to his face than the lighter even, all while keeping constant eye contact. You move your head to your left and finally burn the joint pressed in between your lips, after what seemed like an eternity.

Once the smoke comes out, you unwrap your lips from the joint and smile at Suguru, not one of those half smiles you've been throwing at him all this time. A genuine laidback smile.

"Thanks uh- oh wait I don't even know your name"

"Well I haven't given it to you yet."

"You gave me your lighter, might as well give me your heart. How much more could your name matter?"

Well he might as well have given you his heart and what even is in the name, if he could he would give you the entirety of the galaxy, but It would probably fade out in your comparison.

"Suguru. Geto Suguru."

"Nice to meet you Suguru."

"And what more might you need other than my lighter, heart, and name in exchange for your name?"

"I don't know? Anything tempting you are offering? Perhaps a seat right here?"

Did you mean right there? There on his lap?

"I wouldn't ever deny you anything."

So you did in fact mean his lap. Cause you perch right up on there and drag a long smoke out of your joint, blowing the smoke up in the sky above you two.

"L/n Y/n. And I'll hold you onto that claim."

"Do you always ask people for names in exchange for a seat on their lap?" Suguru smirks and tries to regain some confidence and control over the situation. If he wants to keep you right where you are, he would need to get out of the haze of intoxication — which was ironically not the weed in the air but just your existence.

"I never really ask for names. Really bad at remembering them. And as for seats, hmm I don't know. Your legs looked more comfortable and warm than the cold floor. And you looked sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Why? Does that not describe your —chase Atlantic and Artic Monkeys, cigarette smoker, fuck weed i am better than that, only dark colors— aesthetic?"

"How did you know I don't like weed?"

"Made a face right as you walked into the room down there. Also anyone else would've asked to borrow this by now." You move the blunt in between your fingers slightly to signify what you're talking about.

"Does that not bother you?"

"I mean it doesn't bother you that I am smoking this right in your face, if you had said something I would've respected that as well. I don't really care what you think is the standard for intoxication."

Suguru just smiles. He doesn't really have a topic exactly to speak about. He is in fact not capable of doing much right now you've rid him of the taste of control and the only taste he wants to be acclimated with from this moment onwards is yours. And he doesn't care about this change. He knows your name, he knows the feel of your fishnets against your skin. He knows the material of your lethal skirt. He knows the vanilla and jasmine notes of your perfume. He knows the exact color of your eyes and how many eyelashes you have. And he thinks that is enough.

'You have got that face that just says

"Baby, I was made to break your heart"'

You might as well break his heart, do as you please with it. It burnt away from his grasp the moment you burnt the end of your joint using his lighter.

"Looks like they are more intoxicating than any drug in existence." Was he talking about the blunt? Because his eyes were aimed at your lips. And he was unaware of what he even let slip out of his own lips.

"Suck it and see. You never know." 

Not wasting a second with your unaware confirmation, Suguru moves forward. The hand on your fishnet clad thigh tightens, digging into the supple skin, weaving the fingers with the fishnet itself. The other hand, coming up to your lips, taking out the joint and throwing it out somewhere on the balcony, his fingers first touch your lips with light touches as if one touch is too heavy and you'll disperse into thin air. Slowly the fingers on your lips start pressing down on, well past both of your lips, making an audible gasp leave your mouth involuntarily. His fingers dig around the entrance to your mouth— rubbing your lips, then proceeds to press down on your tongue and graze over your teeth interchangeably. All while staring into your eyes, or staring at you, your eyes might as well be all white or shut close. Anything partially visible, is all a blur. 

And you allow him all of it. You allow him to twist his fingers up to rub his rough finger pads on the along the expanse of your hard palate and soft palate, borderline trying to choke you. You simply allow it. You allow those hands to explore parts of you even out of your own reach. One digging in your mouth, other trying to make itself at home on your thighs—practically memorizing every little stretch mark running along your skin. He wants to know it all, have it all and who are you to deny a starved man? 

When he's had enough of his little exploration, his own pairs of lips come crashing down on you. A sigh of almost a relief, leaves both your lungs. It is not quite relief, it is nice to finally have him kiss you—but his lips are the kind to leave your head dizzy, head swaying, forgetful of the whole process of breathing through your nose while he devours you, eyes flickering like unreliable headlights on the highway. You might as well be crashing out. 

His lips are caging in yours, tongue fencing with yours, hands roaming around you like he's gonna find the most prized treasure on the surface of your skin. Guiding your hips to force down on his lap and roll them into little grids of desperation. Who was exactly the desperate one here? 

At that point it all becomes too overwhelming to have your ability to breath taken away. So you push him off, with no ease. It was as if pushing him and pulling yourself back simply made him hold onto you harder. And when his lips did leave you alone, they go on to chase your lips to find his rightful place back on them.

You put one of your hands on his mouth to halt him, all that does is make you have goosebumps all over your body—having him look up to you with his desperate and hazed mono lids, the purple-brownish shade of his pupils burning you up. And him just heaving in your hand, short of breath, was of no help either. 

“I was talking about the joint.” you breath out with an exasperated sigh.

“Well I am not sorry.” He leaves a feather light kiss on your hand covering his mouth.

“What even are you?” Genuinely, how does a man with gorgeous hair and horrible vocabulary make you fold so easily? 

“‘I am a fool for you.” 

A/N: dividers by @/sister-lucifer & @/omi-resources, header from my own gallery. And I didn't proofread half of this ok IT IS HARD TO READ YOUR OWN WORK

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[v1x3n]

REUNITE! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - mentions of torture, panic attacks and breakdowns.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

Days go by, long fucking days where you're practically stuck in this bed. You could get up and walk around but you didn't want to. You stared at the ceiling, kind of hoping it would fall down on you but it never came. Your face stuck in the same position for hours as you melted into the bare sheets of the hospital bed. A singular tear pricks down your cheek while you look towards the dying flowers that sit on your bedside table.

"Hi honey!" Your nurse walks into your room with some food clumped on the plate. You glance up at her with weak eyes. She places the food on your bedside table. Glancing at the withered flowers, she sighs. "They been in here recently?" Jane asks with a hint of disappointment. Your head shakes, not really wanting to even think about or even talk about them, let alone speak to them. "Listen, I know what they did to you was terrible and you probably never want to open that wound but-"

When you scoff and look away after the 'but', she continues talking. "...You should talk to someone about it. I'm not asking you to talk to them. Because god knows I wouldn't even look at them, but you should see a therapist. You do need one and you can't keep pushing away everyone who wants you to get better." Jane's sweet smile makes you acknowledge that there are nice people in this world.

"I-I uhm- I was forced to go to a session like within the first week of being here but they just..." you trail off, looking towards the flowers that had lost nearly all their life. Huh, you never thought you could relate to flowers.

"I understand, I do." She gently puts her hands on your knee. This time you don't flinch though. This time, memories didn't flash through your eyes - forcing you to relive the horrible things those fucking four put you through. This time, it was peaceful, it was comforting. "You should still give it another go, after what you went through - you need someone safe." Your nurse's thumb rubs against your knee as she speaks.

You take in her words, the lingering feeling of wanting to get better - to heal - stabs at your heart but you also wanted to show those fucking horrible four that this is what they fucking did to you. Not wanting to waste time getting better, if you even could, you knew deep down you'd always hurt. You wouldn't be able to trust anyone again - especially a man. What they did to you tore you apart.

So, you shrugged off your nurse's words before she let you be, to eat your hospital food. The slop slumped onto the plate looked so disgusting. The sandwich that you could tell would stick to the roof of your mouth was unappetizing. Honestly the food there made you less hungry. After sighing and shoving the meal to the bedside table, pushing the dead flowers off the wood so they splattered all over the floor. The hard floor was littered with wilted petals and the dark, pale green stems.

So here you are. Sat in another white fucking room, except there wasn't a lonely bed or flowers scattered across the floor. There were two cream couches and a massive window. And a woman wearing a tight pair of trousers, a white blouse with a blazer swept over the couch she was sitting on top of. The girl was holding a clipboard with text filling the papers. Her hair was straight and was neatly brushed - the total opposite of you. “Ah, y/n? Right? You can call me Jones." she smiled as you came into her viewline. You nod nervously as you swipe down on your little gown the hospital gave you. 

Multiple panic attacks. Your body was in pain. The wounds that litter your body - not to be healed ever again. Your 8 fingers that trailed over the stitched up cut across your cheek. The breakdown you had just a week ago. How you flinch when anyone (but Jane) gets close.

All of that flashes through your head while you sit opposite the women. "You're quite famous, you know?” the woman states. You tilt your head towards the left. 

“Oh?” you hum, looking around the room, clearly avoiding eye contact. She scribbles something quick onto a clean bit of paper, the one with text flopped over the top of the clipboard. “Heard about your ‘story’ a lot, from a lot of different people.” You slump against the sofa. Feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingertips. “Oh.” mumbling when your eyes finally meet hers for the first time. Her blue eyes connect with yours. A deep passion for helping was buried in her eyes. You could tell. 

“I haven't heard the story from the person who went through it all though.” Jones looks down at her clipboard, “why don't you tell me about it? How are you feeling?”

“What's there to tell?" you scoff. Sweat starts pouring from your forehead so you pull an arm that was littered with healing bruises up across it. Your question was not much of a question, more of a statement. What was there to tell? She knew the story, everyone fucking did. “Let's start with how's your day?” Jones smiled with a hint of amusement when your scoff reached her ears. “Fine.” She raised an eyebrow skeptically at your answer but didn't comment on anything. She leaned forward. Placing her clipboard on the seat beside her. 

Your figit uncomfortably, "that's.. all? Fine?” Jones questions, her voice hinting at suspicion. “Yep.” 

“You know if you aren't honest, I can't help you." 

After burying your head into your hands, you drag your cheek down with your palm as you let out a long sigh, "I'm doing better.” 

“Well that is good to hear,” she coos, reaching for her clipboard and writing down a few words in the margin. “Has anyone visited you lately?” Her question makes you hesitate for a moment. “Like family and friends?” Jones nods whilst leaning back.

Looking around the office you notice the way the woman in front of you tilts her head in the slightest when you shake your head. Her ramblings go on and on but you end up blurring them out. High squeaking forms in your ears, blinding out your therapist talking. 

That's when a loud bang sounds from the door that you entered through. It brings you back to life. You flinch back as the door opens. “Hey Jones, sorry 'm late just got outa trainin’” the blurred man walks through the door, holding tight onto a notebook. His scruffy appearance so familiar.

You wish you didn't have to face him yet.

“Your session is on a Thursday from now on, I told you-” she gets cut off when Johnny drops the book in his hands as he stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth opening slightly as fear shoots through your stomach and heart. The man before you mumbles one quiet word.

 “...Bonnie.”

[stillarobyn]

I understand the intention behind this post and I don't disagree with it. I don't.

If you're writing a period piece or something with a certain dark tone, then yes, you absolutely want to keep to that, give your gruff sailor a mumbled line about not being like most other men, or your scattered workaholic scientist can say she never felt like she was missing out on anything by not having a partner while they save the world.

But do not limit the reach of fanfiction by expecting it to be held to the same standards.

Because we need both. Because the target audience for a lot of works that employ this are young, they're disconnected from community, and they're lost. They think they're broken or they don't fit or they are made wrong.

I, a millennial, didn't know about bisexuality until I read about it in fanfic somewhere around 2003 (I was 13). I didn't know any out gay or queer people growing up. It was still scandalous on tv, and my parents didn't have any problem with it, they just didn't talk about it. I can't imagine how isolating it would have felt if my parents prevented me from watching anything with gay characters or spoke negatively about them.

My first discovery of nonbinary identity was in a bandom fic I read in 2010 (I was 20, for those playing the home game). It was maybe two years after that that I began to talk with nonbinary/genderqueer/genderfluid people online. I knew a couple of binary trans people in college, and one in high school, but this was my first time meeting people who weren't a binary gender. In 2012! It took another two years for me, at this point a full-ass adult, to start describing myself that way.

All of this oversharing to say...my understanding of queer identity was not hand-held by anyone in my life, but boy I learned to accept these foreign ideas I saw in myself because I had a safe fictional environment to explore these concepts and terms.

I think it was 2014-2016 when fanfic spaces had a boom of "everyone is trans" AUs and headcanons, and they were often rose-tinted and a bit twee, but that's the point of them. I saw identities I had to look up, and when I asked in follow-up "okay, but what does a person who feels like that look/act like?" it was all crickets, except in fiction, and specifically fanfic.

"But the world is different now, not knowing is no excuse" NOPE. not with anti-lgbtqia legislation passing in the US, or in other hostile countries around the world (I'm from the US, my argument is US-centric based on my experience and knowledge, but by no means exclusionary of people in other countries), or even family situations or rural upbringing or any other circumstance that isolated young queer folk from other queer folk.

A popular live-service video game introduced a nonbinary character and I saw twitch chats full of people who were just confused and uneducated. Ignoring those who were hostile was easy, but the uninformed, especially the non-English-speakers and people who didn't come from Western cultures, were largely open to learning something they never had framework for. Made all the more frustrating in a game environment where the characters didn't make a habit of having these discussions on screen, but that's a different rant.

I don't know if OP intended this in reference to original media, or toward fic, but I saw a lot of established characters in the reblogs so I just want to address that. I'm a characterization first fic reader, so I get it. "Everyone is trans" fics aren't for me, but there's a space needed for them if someone needs to see Captain Kirk and Spock debating the application of terminology of human gender and sexuality in interplanetary cultural settings...now actually I kind of want that fic so I played myself.

Dragon Age Veilguard came under attack for daring to openly and forwardly use the term "nonbinary" in its fantasy world, as though something about the word is inherently incompatible with the fantasy genre? But the game was pretty clear in its goal to create a safe gaming space for marginalized folks when so often their experiences are erased, ignored, tokenized, or stereotyped. The narrative, therefore, had to be hostile to the unaccepting, educational for the ignorant, and validating to the vulnerable. Getting to play in a world where people are referred to as nonbinary (just like me) and where people use they/them pronouns (just like me) and where no one ridicules or attacks them specifically for this? It felt comfortable and safe and the world was ending in the game, but I felt a personal empowerment in my immersion.

More complex and nuanced discussions by characters about their queer identity add to the picture. It shouldn't be in every work because every author has their own angle and their own philosophy about it, but they have just as much a right to a seat at the table. You can have your fics where Tony Stark's sexuality is a smirk and a wink, and you can have your fics where he explains that he used to call himself bisexual but the world is bigger and weirder so he considers himself omnisexual now. And if you don't like that, scroll past it. The author didn't write it for you, but someone else needs to hear that.

Maybe this is just a personal vent that escaped containment, but I feel the need to remind some folks that some people need the LGBT center brochure version because they didn't get one in the mail. It's a tough time for everyone in this community, no need to make it tougher.

he would not fucking say that but it’s he would not fucking talk about his queer identity like he was reading out of a college campus lgbt center brochure

[harryhighkey]

rest, baby.

hi - here is part four of my frontman x reader series!

spoiler: they finally kiss! sorry but not sorry for the slow burn for that moment. hopefully the wait was worth it!

a frontman x reader series - masterlist to series here

"Open your eyes now." Player 001's voice sounded out in front of you, his voice was so calm compared to the constant loud terror that had stayed in your head during Mingle.

You did as he said and you were met by his gaze in the little yellow room. Slowly, you removed your hands from your own ears. In-ho's hands were still over the top of yours so they fell from your face too. All of the terrible noises of the worst game yet were over now. The nursery rhyme, the screaming, the fighting, the gun shots, dead bodies being placed into boxes with thuds, it was all over.

But there was another sound that you'd only heard once, that had taken place right before the game ended. A neck breaking. Your eyes did a quick sweep of the room, the man who had snuck in here when you fell to the ground was gone. You looked back to Player 001.

In-ho was still looking at you, he knew what you were looking for. He'd deliberately waited until the guards had removed the dead body from the room before telling you to open your eyes. His eye contact was strong, you still found comfort in it, but something had shifted ever so slightly. You were having an internal battle over if what he had done made you trust him more or less.

He had just killed someone with his bare hands. For you.

"It's over?" You asked, needing him to confirm.

"Yes." He told you and you felt the invisible weight of panic that had been crushing you lift from your chest.

You took in a deep breath but winced as the action hurt your side. Quickly you flinched, your hands going to where the pain struck.

"Are you okay?" In-ho frowned in concern, his hands landing on your shoulders to steady you.

"Just hurts a little."

"Can I see?"

You nodded and your hands went to the hem of your shirt, lifting it to see your side all red from where you had been kicked. "Looks like it hurts a lot." In-ho said, he moved one of his hands so his fingertips just barely brushed the surface of where your skin was red and hot, his jaw clenched. He was furious at the person who hurt you like this.

"I'll be fine." You pushed his hand away and put your shirt back down.

"You don't have to do that with me."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine when you're obviously hurt."

"Well, when I just have this and all those people died, then I'm fine, Young-il." You snapped at him.

He didn't respond, instead silence fell between you both. His expression gave nothing away, you hated knowing how readable your face was whilst his was the opposite.

What you didn't know was the constant internal battle he was facing between being the Frontman and Player 001. Being the man who ran these games but also being the man who wanted to save you from them.

You snapped at him about people dying here, which he was to blame for but he didn't care about those people. He only cared about you. He cared so much about your life and at the same time, he was the reason yours had been put in this dangerous situation, he had to be the reason you get out, too.

"Sorry." You dropped your eyes, shaking your head at yourself. This man had literally just carried you to the finishing line - a finishing line that secured your life - and you were snapping at him? He had just helped and carried you through the worst panic attack you'd ever experienced so you would survive. He killed for you. You tried not to think about that last fact too much.

He had looked out for you more than anyone ever had your whole life.

"Don't be." He shook his head, dropping his head down. "You've been through a lot. Too much." Because of me. He thought.

"So have you." You reached for his hand then, he intertwined his fingers with yours. He kept his face down. "Young-il," You called out to him. In-ho hated that you still didn't know his real name, he wanted to tell you it. He looked back up to you. "Thank you for looking after me. For saving me."

His spare hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb rubbing along your skin. You're saving me. He didn't say that out loud, instead he said, "I told you I would."

"I know, but when I had given up during the second last round. I thought that was it for me."

"But it wasn't, I was never going to let that happen."

"I know that, I just thought I was stronger than that. I should've been able to keep going. I should've been able to handle it." You were disappointed in yourself, dropping your gaze from his now.

"No," In-ho shook his head, his face almost looking pained at what you had said. Both of his hands held your own two. "You shouldn't have to, (Y/N). You are not the problem. What happens here, the people who thrive here, who enjoy it, they're the ones who are wrong." He moved his face closer to yours, barely brushing his nose against yours, you looked back up at the contact, the movement bringing your face closer to his again. You could feel his breath on your lips, your heart thundered. "Not you, pretty girl. You are too good for this place, it's beautiful that you don't belong here."

Your breath hitched as your eyes dropped to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. You tilted your head a little, rubbing your nose against his, your lips just grazing his, inviting him in.

He accepted.

Player 001 closed the distance, his lips meeting yours, finally. The kiss was tender and heavy, you'd both felt like you had been waiting so long for this despite it being just a few days. Your brain felt dizzy as all the terrible things you'd experienced slowly began to dissipate and all you could think about was how perfectly his lips meshed with yours. His hands let go of yours and found your thighs, you sighed into his mouth at the feeling of his strong grip on your legs.

"Come here." He mumbled against your lips. In-ho started to pull you forward and you followed his lead. Between kisses, you lifted yourself so you could settle into his lap and straddle him, your hands holding onto his shoulders, your front against his. You broke the kiss so you could catch your breath, but he wanted more, he was no where near close to being done to having his mouth on you.

Wet kisses were left to the corner of your mouth, your chin until he found your neck. You whined and tilted your head to give him more access, the feeling of it so delicious, you could feel a wetness already forming in between your legs. "That's my good girl." He said, briefly looking at your heavenly face before his lips came back to your neck where he began to lightly suck, his hands moving to your ass. You bit down hard on your bottom lip and whimpered, already feeling so turned on, you wanted to hear him call you that every day.

He started dotting kisses down your neck now, lingering a very hot, open-mouth one to the spot where your neck met your shoulder. "I can't wait to taste all of you." He gripped your ass and you rolled your hips into his. "You want that, baby?" He asked you, lifting his head once again to be right in front of yours. Your cheeks were already growing pink.

"Yes. Please, yes." You nodded, crashing your mouth against his once more. He met your kiss with ease, he was getting drunk on you already and there was still so much more of you waiting to be explored by him.

You were so blissfully surrounded by him, the perfect distraction from everything else you had gone through this day. You'd felt a constant flutter in your chest anytime he had touched you since that first night when he had rubbed your head until you fell asleep. Now that flutter was more alight than ever, bursting with each skilled movement of his lips.

You rolled your hips again, seeking a sensation against your throbbing centre. "Baby," In-ho broke the kiss with a puff of air at the feeling of your pussy grazing over where he had grown hard in his pants. You met his gaze. "Not here." He told you, placing one last peck to your lips and running his hands further up your back. As much as he wanted you, he wanted to make sure it was where you two were truly alone. Your pleasure was for his eyes only.

You whined and dropped your head onto his shoulder, letting out a loud sigh.

He laughed, turning his head so his lips grazed against your ear as he spoke. "That turned on?"

"Shut up." You laughed too.

"I'll take that as a yes."

-----

"To give you some time to think, the vote will be conducted tomorrow."

50 vs 50.

The vote had come out to a tie.

"No." Your voice was barely audible, you felt hopeless.

Everyone turned to walk back, only you and Player 456 were left standing in place. Gi-hun was staring at the numbers on the screen in disbelief. You were watching the guards as they started getting ready to leave.

You knew you wouldn't make it through another game and you didn't want Player 001 putting himself in danger again to keep you safe. You wouldn't forgive yourself if anything were to happen to him. You were desperate to get out.

Briefly, you turned to look back, looking for the man who had become your solace. He was already walking back to the bunks. You looked at him for a few more moments before turning back to the guards, they had all started to turn away to leave. If you had taken a few extra seconds to think about, maybe you wouldn't have acted so impulsively.

But you didn't.

"(Y/N), no!" Gi-hun attempted to stop you as you broke out in a sprint towards one of the guards, he reached out to you but you just slipped out of his grip.

Others turned at the commotion, the people who voted 'O' hoping to see you run right to your death, the people who voted 'X' were worried.

When In-ho turned at the sound of Gi-hun saying your name and he saw what you were doing, he swore his heart stopped beating. "(Y/N)! Stop!" He screamed at you, voice full of distress. Just like Player 456, he ran after you, but he was too many steps behind now. He could control what happened to you when the games were taking place, but if you were running at the guards to attack them in front of all the other players, he couldn't control the outcome of this and it made him panic.

Just as you were about to grab a guards gun, they turned around at the sound of their bosses voice, seeing you right behind them and immediately holding their gun up so the barrel pressed right against your forehead.

You froze and sucked in a breath, the other guards turned and pointed their guns at you. You waited for the sound of a bullet being fired, but it never came. You thought for sure this was going to be your end, this was not behaviour they tolerated.

What you didn't see was the Frontman glaring at them with a warning gaze. His face was hardened in fury at the idea of any of them shooting you and he ever so slightly shook his head to tell them no as subtly as he could without anyone else noticing.

"Move back." The guard commanded at you.

For a moment, you thought about trying to grab the barrel for a last attempt to steal the gun, you knew the speed of your hands would be no match for the trigger on this weapon, but your desire to leave was so strong you considered trying. That was until Player 001's voice sounded out. "(Y/N), listen to them. Come back." You imagined how you would feel if it was him with the gun aimed at his head, the thought of it even too much. So you started to step backwards. The guards kept the guns pointed at you. You could not believe they let you get away with this.

You kept walking backwards, and when your back hit against someone's front, you jumped.

"It's me." Player 001's voice was right in your ear. He grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him. Protecting you again.

-----

"What were you thinking?!" Once the guards had left, In-ho didn't let go of your hand, he pulled you to your bunk with him. He was furious at you for risking your life like that.

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking." You answered him honestly.

"That is clear. That was so stupid, (Y/N)."

"Don't call me stupid."

"Don't be stupid and I won't."

You huffed, crossing your arms as you sat on the side of your bed. "After we lost the vote, I had to try something. I'm not going to make it through another game, I know it. I'm dying tomorrow. That was my last chance to escape."

"I told you, I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know you did, and you got me through today. But we don't know what's coming tomorrow. You can't guarantee that."

Yes I can. He thought, but he couldn't tell you that, not yet. Instead, he let out a deep breath and crouched down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. He tried to catch your eyes, but you avoided looking at him. "Hey," His hand grabbed your chin, halting your movements and forcing you to look at him. "I can keep you safe if you're next to me. But, with what you did just then to the guards. I have much less of a chance of keeping you safe." But still a chance, he was the Frontman after all. "Do you understand?" He was trying to let you know you would be okay, his role was high and important here.

Plus, after learning Gi-hun's plan for tonight, he had his own plan to finally get you out.

-----

Bullets were flying everywhere, it was chaos, it was loud, it was a war-zone. The third war-zone you'd experienced today. First, it was the game, Mingle. Second, when everyone had started attacking each other when the lights went out. You had hid next to Player 001 during that, your eyes squeezed shut, head tucked away in his neck with his arm around you and his hands covering your ears. Third, was now this. Player 456's plan to take over the games, find the Frontman and end all of this.

Through all of it, In-ho had made sure you were by his side. Currently you were between him and Player 388, who was about to go and get more bullets.

"Dae-ho, are you okay?" You leaned in closer to ask him, you could see on your friends face he wasn't handling this well. He had become more quiet, his face turned pale. You experienced your own panic attack earlier today and you were sure he about too as well.

"Yes." He answered you quietly. It wasn't believable.

Everyone else was too distracted by the fight, busy shooting the guards, but you felt concern for your friend. "I'll go back with yo-"

"No." In-ho interrupted you then, his voice demanding. You turned to look at him and his face was deadly serious. "You are staying with me." He was so close to getting you out, he wouldn't let you go back now. Especially not when bullets were shooting everywhere and you could get hit.

"But, he-"

"He will be fine."

You clenched your jaw tight then.

"(Y/N)," Dae-ho called your name and you turned to look at him, concern displayed all over your face for him. "It's okay, stay here with Young-il. It'll be easier for just one of us to go back than both of us."

You nodded and then leant forward to hug him. "Please be careful."

"I will, you too." He pulled back from the hug to look at you. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

In-ho watched you watch him retreat back. He saw the worry on your face, he knew you cared for him and it made him sick with jealousy. He couldn't wait to get you on your own.

"(Y/N), we have to move now."

Player 456 & 390 went one way while you and Player 001 went another.

He kept his body in a place where it would shield you from the direction the guards were shooting from. Although it seemed that the bullets coming in your direction had significantly lessened. Maybe more guards were on the side Gi-hun had taken.

You hoped they were going to be okay.

Each time you reached a new path that broke off into more than one direction, Player 001 chose which way to go so confidently. You were starting to get anxious at the idea of getting closer to where the people who ran these games were.

"Young-il," you reached out for his hand to stop him.

He halted and immediately turned to you. "Have you been shot?" His eyes scanned over your body, searching for blood.

"No, no," you shook your head. "What's going to happen when we find the people who run this?" You spoke with a panicked tone.

He held your eye contact for a few moments before answering you. "You already have." He admitted.

"What-" Before you had a chance to question or even fully process what he had said, he pulled you into him and kissed you. You allowed him to, more than allowed, you completely welcomed it. Your heart instantly speeding up at the feeling of his skilled mouth on yours.

You were so distracted you didn't see him reach into his pocket for the syringe, he almost felt bad at how easy this was. Almost. He didn't because he had convinced himself this was going to be best for you.

When the needle pricked into your skin, you broke apart from him with a gasp, but his strong arm kept you in place.

"You'll be okay." Was what he told you as your vision very quickly blurred, your body going limp in his hold around you. He scooped you up into this arms.

You attempted to speak, to say anything at all, but you were fast succumbing to what had been injected into you. All you managed to do was let out a little whimper.

"Shh, (Y/N)." In-ho said into your ear, and everything started to go black for you. "Enjoy your rest, baby."

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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[wtfaniii]

Sweet But Psycho

Summary: You are only nineteen years old but life has made you intelligent, life and your father.

Warning: slight smut, innuendo, blood and a somewhat toxic relationship, I haven't checked this yet so sorry for any spelling mistakes

The salesman x fem reader ¡!front man's daughter

A sigh escaped your lips as the handsome black-haired man in a suit pushed you onto the bed and positioned himself on top of you.

—You don't know how much I've been waiting for this —You said with a wide smile taking the man's face to pull him towards you and kiss him with need.

—I know —he replied arrogantly as he caressed your body torturously slow.

From the first time you saw this man at a meeting he had with your father, you knew you had to at least kiss him.

There was something about his personality that made him so attractive besides his physique, maybe it was that arrogant and mocking smile that he sometimes formed or that contemptuous look that he gave to everyone.

A gasp escaped your lips as he managed to strip of your clothes, however, you didn't want him to have all the power.

Being who you were, you didn't like to give up control, you were above him and you made that clear when skillfully turned around on the bed to make him lie beneath you.

—Well well... someone is having a hard time adapting to other roles —He mocked, tightening his hands on your hips, sure to leave a mark.

—I prefer to be on top and keep the pace —You said flirtatious.

You lowered your hands to him pants but just as your fingers reached for him belt buckle the door to room suddenly opened.

Your heart raced, and not in the way you would have wanted, when you saw your father open the door and make an expression of annoyance and embarrassment at the scene before him.

—Hi... —The two greeted at the same time, you with a nervous smile and he with a mocking expression.

Sure, your dear boyfriend was more than proud to fuck his boss's daughter.

—Both have five minutes to get dressed and get out of here, or I'll have to find a new recruiter for this afternoon —The front man warned and then closed the door again with a thud.

The man below you would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of your father, the front man was far above him and although it fed his ego the idea of ​​having you in the palm of his hand he still wasn't willing to risk having a bullet in his head embedded by him.

—You heard him, sweetie —He sighed, gently pushing you away from him to get out of bed.

—Coward —You told him mockingly as you stood up.

You liked to provoke him, to make him angry so that the tension between you would be even greater, but in this case it wasn't like that, he wasn't ready to die.

—What I want to do to you will take me more than five minutes, love —He justified himself while adjusting his tie.

You sighed and both of got dressed again, when you saw yourself presentable you opened the door and right there was In-ho, with a look that would freeze anyone.

In-ho was against this relationship, the salesman was almost twenty-five years older than you, and he knew the kind of man he was, he didn't want him with you but seeing you so enthusiastic about him made him silence all his complaints.

He haven't seen you this happy since your mother died.

Life had treated you badly, your mother fell ill and died, your father was fired and left you with your grandmother for five months until he came back for you and brought you to this island.

At first you didn't want to be a part of this but you didn't want to leave your father alone in this duel either, you were also having a bad time and before you knew it you were already wearing a pink suit, a gun and a black mask with a quadrate printed on the front.

Before long you became addicted to this new life, In-ho almost instantly regretted having taken you there with him because he didn't take into account your vulnerable state of mind you were in, you became a completely different person and he regretted it every day.

—You have to get back to work —he said to the man in the suit, who nodded, bowed slightly, and left almost instantly —And you-

You quickly interrupted him with a wide smile.

—¿Can I go with him?

—No.

—¡Oh come on! I've been on this fucking island since I was twelve! —Your irritated screams didn't bother him at all, he was already used to it —I need to see ¡civilization! —You yelled at him furiously one last time as he walked calmly to the control room.

Even if he didn't let you go, you would run away anyway, he knew it, he had no way to control you without causing you harm because he would also easily tell all his guards to subdue you so couldn't leave here but he didn't want to go to those extremes with you, he still loved you with all his soul, you were the only bit of humanity and of his old life that he had left.

So he just grabbed his cell phone and called your sadistic boyfriend.

"She will go with you to the city, take care of her, if something happens to her you will return for your farewell"

The man at the phone cursed mentally, he knew that being fired was also synonymous with certain death, but he refrained from contradicting the frontman.

—Understood, sir.

He hung up the phone and leaned back in the boat seat where after a few minutes he saw you arrive with your characteristic smile and shiny teeth.

—¿Would you like this to be a casual date? —You asked, sitting next to him.

—I'd rather not, for now it's just business.

He didn't want to mix work with his private life but he didn't refuse every time you stole a kiss from him.

You alone accompanied him to every part of the city he went to recruit more trash to entertain your guests, you found it fun and even helped him with some objectives, however you always made sure that no one who had met you before saw you.

Although deep down you wanted to go to your grandmother's house, see your uncle Jun-ho and give them a hug but your father was very specific about those ideas, you don't have to do that, for them you no longer existed.

—¿Are you okay? —Your boyfriend asked cautiously.

He found it curious to see you pensive, silent and even depressed in a period of only ten minutes. He knew you to be quite extroverted and even impulsive, seeing this side of you sparked his interest.

—Yeah... we just have to recruit this last one and that's it, ¿right?

He raised an eyebrow but decided to ignore it for now and both continued walking through the train station.

—Yes, this is a famous ex-youtuber who lost and owes a lot of money, it will be the last one and we will go buy some things.

You nodded silently and when they found the target you stood a few steps away watching them play Ddakji, a malicious smile appeared on your lips every time he slapped the young man.

When he finally gave he the card you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards you to give a kiss on the cheek.

—¿What did I tell you about public displays of affection? —He said pretending to be upset but he just couldn't, sometimes you were hateful and annoying but it didn't matter, he could get used to that.

—If you complain I will do it more often —You threatened him playfully as you continued walking.

But you felt some glances on the two of you, on some occasions you looked surreptitiously and could confirm that two men were following you.

—Dissimulate, after shopping we will take the gentlemen to a more private place —He whispered in your ear and you nodded silently.

You thought that would be more fun than making homeless people choose between bread and a scratch card, you thought it was funny and a joke how people could be ambitious, they could have eaten that day but they preferred to gamble with luck.

—Idiots —You whispered rolling your eyes.

After done him little social experiment, you and the salesman hopped in a cab and headed away from civilization hoping those two men would still be following you.

They were very predictable and once got the chance you let your boyfriend beat those two until they were unconscious and badly injured.

—Nice way to release tension

He winked at you and straightened his jacket and tie.

[...]

—That's the man who's been looking for us for the last three years —He said as he looked indifferently at the man who was searching around in anguish.

You and him were on the roof of an abandoned building, still in the same alley where you kidnapped the other two who apparently worked for this man.

—A headache for your father —He said seriously.

—¿Should I shoot him? —When he turned to look at you, you already had the gun ready and pointing it at the head of the man who was still floors below you.

He shook his head and put his hand on your arm to get you to lower the gun.

—Not yet, I want to know what he wants, for now... ¿Would you like to go on a date with me and the two gentlemen we have tied up down there?

You smiled again and gave a small bow as he took your hand.

You were cruel, and he loved that about you, so he could share moments like this with you.

The poor screams and stifled pleas of these two men brought smiles to your boyfriend and to you, the adrenaline of the moment and the power over the lives of others made your body tingle, made you nauseous and at the same time made your heart race like crazy.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus one" was music to your ears and you couldn't help but jump slightly every time the man next to you pulled the trigger.

You loved every part of this man, yes, he was a sadist but he looked so attractive every time he acted this way that it made you wet.

—¿Can I play? —You asked with a fake pout as you rested your chin on him shoulder.

—Your father won't like that.

—¿And? ¿You're his dog to do whatever he says?

He tightened his lips and the attention of the two gagged and bound men fell on you with their eyes wide at what you had just said.

You liked to tease him but this time you did it at a less appropriate time.

—Repeat what you said —He said in a low, threatening voice.

—Awww... ¿did I hit a nerve? ¿You don't like people calling you... ¿dog?

In the blink of an eye he grabbed you by the neck and lifted you a few inches off the ground, the tips of your feet barely touching the surface.

—The frontman forbade me to kill you but... now I can say that one of these two men killed you inadvertently.

You gasped as the air began to catch in your neck, him firm grip excited you as much as it terrified you.

—Go ahead... —You spoke with little air —Prove that you are not his dog

He wanted so much to fuck you like that and kill you right now, you were desperate but also beautiful and he wasn't going to deny it, you had taken over his head and part of his heart.

He let go of you and you barely managed to stay standing, you gasped for air and when you looked up you saw the tip of the gun pointed directly at the face.

You laughed amusedly.

—Ouh... Looks like I really got on your nerves this time.

—Just apologize —He said seriously and with a sly smile —Come on, do it so we can finish this.

—And if not, ¿what? —You took a step forward to let the cold metal of the weapon touch your lips.

—Just do it, I don't want to break that pretty face of yours.

Once again you smiled and opened your mouth to allow the tip of the gun to enter.

With your eyes you asked him to pull the trigger.

He could have shot, he could have still told your father that one of those two killed you and gotten away with it, but he didn't.

Even with that cold, carefree look you kept on your face, he knew you were still a girl who had lost everything and hated her life, a poor girl who had formed that personality to pretend.

He knew it because you were just like him.

And he wasn't wrong, you really would have liked him to kill you right then and there but he took the gun from your mouth and shot one of the two men in the side of the head causing the other to gasp.

—Coward —You told him sternly and disappointed.

After that tense moment you remained silent until night fell, he asked you to return to the island but you didn't, you decided to follow him because you knew he would go see that man who caused so many problems, you deduced why he let one of those two strangers live to interrogate him.

You kept an appropriate distance, luckily for you the motel where him went to see that man was full of windows so you were like a sniper from the roof of another nearby building.

This time you accepted that you weren't doing it out of curiosity or personal benefit, you were doing it because cared about him.

You saw them talking and playing Russian roulette, it was him favorite game but this time it made you goosebumps on end for some strange reason.

You counted each empty shot and when you saw that there was only one left and it was your boyfriend's turn, your heart skipped a beat.

—If you do this, I'll kill you —you warned the air while keeping your hand on the gun, you were definitely going to intervene.

You saw that the man said something to your boyfriend, something that caused him to point the gun at himself to shoot himself one last time, but before doing so, you shot him hand.

The salesman groaned in pain and screamed, dropping the gun when he saw the hole in his hand.

—¡Damn bitch! —He shouted, turning his head towards the window where he saw you in the other building waving at him with a hand and a smile —¡¡¡You're seriously a fucking bitch!!!

You mouthed "I know" and blew him a kiss before running off to get him.

—¡¿What was that?! —Gi-hun said, taking the gun with the remaining bullet from the ground and looking towards the window, now there was no one.

—My fucking girlfriend —He muttered, looking at his bloody hand.

The door to the room suddenly opened and Jun-ho appeared with his gun raised so Gi-hun raised his gun as well.

—Police, ¡put hands up! —He demanded, looking at them randomly an the two raised their hands instinctively.

—Hi... ¿am I interrupting something? —You said entering the room with biggest gun that brought with you.

Until your gaze fell on the policeman, you cursed at the sight of your uncle.

He was just as surprised as you, he knew In-ho was behind all this but he didn't expect you to be too.

—It seems I have the advantage here so why don't you guys put down your weapons and we can talk like civilized people ¿does that sound okay? —You said with a closed-lip smile but your eyes remained fixed on Jun-ho.

—¡I just want him to take me to his owner! —Gi-hun demanded, pointing at your man in the seat, who was bandaging his hand with a handkerchief.

—I am him owner —You said arrogantly —I'm sorry, honey —apologized to him without lowering your gun or your defensive stance.

—Liar, you enjoyed doing it —He said through clenched teeth and annoying.

You winked and turned your attention back to your uncle but before could say another word you felt a strong blow to the head that knocked you unconscious.

—¡That bitch is crazy! —shouted the man they had previously tortured, still tied by the ankles and half naked, he had hit you with a fire extinguisher —¡She and his deranged boyfriend killed my friend! —He added, pointing at the black-haired man in a suit.

—¿Boyfriend? —Jun-ho asked quietly as he approached you to make sure you still had a pulse.

—I'm dead —the salesman murmured as he watched you lying unconscious on the floor.

If they didn't kill him, your father would.

[sad-wet-cat-hannibal]

(Essay incoming so I'm adding a read more)

I think you've said some good stuff here, and I too get annoyed or even angered by people using the term in a way that I interpret as flippant; but I'd like to add that as someone who frequently described distressing books and films as "traumatising", it turned out that that word was rather apt - because my intense response was caused by my trauma being triggered by those very same things, too often in ways that felt like reliving it.

Here's the kicker. I didn't know I *had* any trauma. All I knew was that engaging with these works made me feel distressed and disturbed as if I were personally traumatised by these things. Like they were real. Like they damaged me. Just from reading them or seeing them. They'd haunt me for weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years. Sometimes they gave me weird symptoms I couldn't explain. So, naturally, I was hyper-avoidant as fuck.

That intense sensitivity and hyper-avoidance, combined with my ignorance to the fact that my psyche was not experiencing these things from an untraumatised position, meant I thought that "intensely distressing/traumatising" was just the normal effect these things had - except lots of other people seemed oblivious, and even delighted in the exact same works. Sometimes none more so than the kind of motherfuckers who actually like traumatising people.

So I figured, as incomprehensible as it seemed, everyone else had to be either too numbed out/oblivious/naïve to realise how awful this shit was, or were actually big fans of bad things happening in real life.

Because if to me it felt too real, capable of destroying my peace of mind for weeks, then surely to some extent that must be the same for everyone else, right? (Obviously not, but I was younger and working with what limited knowledge I had.) From that logic it's really easy to buy into censorship, into propaganda that claims that the symptoms of a society with a dysfunctional approach to life are often born of the media that echoes them, rather than the other way round. It's real to you. It's your only explanation. (You don't want to feel like this. You don't want anyone to feel like this. It's inhumane.)

What I'm trying to say is that not everyone knows they're traumatised. I think as many as those who do, do not. Perhaps far more. And for those people, the only time they are able to touch on the truth of their half-veiled iceberg is when they tell you that The Bridge to Terabithia "traumatised" them.

(I know it "did" me.)

Telling them they're exaggerating, and misusing language that doesn't apply to them runs the very real risk of making it harder for them to treat their feelings with the consideration and weight they deserve, and enabling them to begin the process of unraveling their denial and tending their wounds. It runs the risk of reinforcing the (potentially forgotten or minimised) messaging they may have already received, during and after the trauma, that it doesn't matter. They're exaggerating. They're making things up. Other people have trauma, other people have it so much worse, other people suffer - but not you. Your account of your experience is unbelievable. Silly. You will not be seen or heard or understood, not by anyone else, and not by yourself...

Yet. Hopefully one day. But I think it often takes other people being willing to shine a light on the pain, and say, "Yeah, it's real. It's caused by things. You aren't alone and you aren't exaggerating."

I think the flippant watering down of the word is potentially very unhelpful too, but there's a section of society who want to push the narrative that the vast majority of people speaking seriously and from a place of relevant psycho-education about their trauma are just special snowflakes jumping on a trend. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel wary of adding fuel to their fire by trying to gatekeep trauma. I don't know what the solution to these two conflicting uses of the word is, or if it's even possible to create a solution that doesn't simultaneously police the traumatised out of expressing their pain the only way they currently know how. Which would set back the whole thing of trying to help people... We get enough trauma olympics ingrained into everyone as it is.

Oh yeah!! Just remembered, Gabor Mate said in either his book from 2024 or an interview about it that he considers everyone to be traumatised, the question is simply one of degree (if I'm remembering correctly). So from that it may in fact be possible to argue that books and films can traumatise people, although perhaps not necessarily to the extent we might associate with PTSD or CPTSD.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[myderis]

phainon 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff ⊹ word count 0.5k

"Quick, hide me!" you were in a total panic running to PHAINON using him like a human shield as your hands found a place on his back, gently tugging his cape. Although he didn't have time to react, he knew you were in big trouble if you were looking for him. "What is it this time, my lady? You stole another scroll, rode a droma unsupervised, scammed someone, or—?"

"Where is she?" you panicked even more hearing the voice of none other than Mydei and his footsteps that could tear the ground apart, and maybe even your dignity. "Where's who?" Phainon's calm voice carried just enough to sound believable. He didn’t flinch as the prince’s towering frame loomed closer, his eyes blazing like twin suns. The Deliverer shrugged slightly, ensuring his broad frame blocked you from sight as you pressed closer to his back, your heart pounding like a war drum.

"You know exactly who I’m talking about," Mydei growled. His tone was edged with frustration, and you could almost feel his glare cutting through the space between them. "She drank all of my pomegranate juice. Do you have any idea how long I waited for the harvest? Where is she?" At those words, your stomach twisted with guilt and fear. You hadn’t meant to drink all of it… but it was just so good.

Phainon tilted his head, considering. "Pomegranate juice, you say? That’s tragic. But alas, I’m afraid I haven’t seen her.” leaning casually against a pillar as if Mydei’s wrath was the least of his worries. "Perhaps she’s taken to the market? Or gone to annoy someone else?" 

Mydei hesitated, uncertain whether to believe Phainon or keep pressing him for answers. After a long, tense pause, he sighed, not wanting to bother himself anymore.

"Fine. If you see her, tell her to face me like an adult," You shot your savior a silent, desperate thank-you from behind his back. He subtly shifted, blocking you further from view. Mydei narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it, but after a moment, he huffed, muttering something about “finding her eventually” before storming off.

As soon as he was gone, you stepped out from behind Phainon. "I owe you my life," you said dramatically, your heart still racing. "Or at least my dignity."

Turning to you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "You owe me more than that, I think. But we’ll start with the truth—what did you do?"

You hesitated, then confessed, "I… drank all of Mydei’s pomegranate juice. I was thirsty! And it was just sitting there, looking—"

"Delicious?" Phainon finished, smirking. "You’re lucky I’m good at lying."

"Lucky doesn’t even cover it. I don’t know how to thank you," you admitted, a gentle smile appearing on your face and Phainon crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "I can think of one way."

Your stomach did a little flip. "Do you want to go out on a date?"

He chuckled, blue eyes shining with adoration, "I was going to suggest you replace the juice, but now that you mention it… I won’t say no."

You flushed, but you couldn’t help but laugh. "It’s settled then,"

"At least for now, my lady," he teased, making you wonder how draining Mydei’s pomegranate juice wasn’t the worst decision you’d made after all.

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[brujaluas]

What is your love karma?

"Tell me all the ways to stay away"

"I'm hearing voices all the time and they're not mine"

"A thousand voices howling in my head"

(each sentence also represents a pile.)

Ok, I had mentioned some things here on the blog and this week I saw a reading that fits perfectly with everything about my love life and I thought I NEED to do something similar for my dear ones, so here is your love karma from a past life (I'm thinking about doing what karma you carry in this life, let me know if you want)

pile 1

hm I see you being from the same worlds but at the same time distant, it's as if the female figure had a vocation and it wasn't love, maybe the female energy needed to dedicate itself to studies or focus completely on its career, a profession. And it communicated in a furtive and silent way with another person (the person you loved), who could be a soulmate. But the male energy needed to live around other people, be in the spotlight, with many people looking at it, it's as if you couldn't stay in the same place, one would always have to live far from the other or have little time together. Wow, I did a reading about karma, but your story came up here. I think you may have a difficult love, cultural and social differences, having to live far away, many people disapproving of your relationship…

pile 2

Look, you may have been promised to someone. I see a heterosexual couple here. A man and a woman. You were promised to marry an older, richer man, not an old man with a cane, one of those disgusting types of a girl married to an old man. He wasn't that old, he was even charming, but had a considerable age difference. You played the typical role of a housewife, but you didn't like it, and you may have gotten involved with someone else (cheated), someone just like you, in appearance, age (hello Cersei Lannister, lol just joking people), and you knew that this love would be your end, your ruin, one of you in this poorly planned love triangle would die or fall very hard. Maybe for a portion of people, you ran away with your lovers, because they also had a lot to offer, not that you were self-interested, but those were different times, I see a very time, and unfortunately the only way for a woman to prosper in that era was to marry a man, I see you in a successful escape, but it's as if you had to go to a super distant place, like another country, or for some, your current husband took you far away but you never cut ties with your lover, you sent letters and communicated and so did he, even from a distance.

Wow, this reading was even more intense. In this life you can have unequal relationships, difficult relationships and often love triangles, lack of trust in the relationship.

pile 3

Widower. That was the first word I thought of when I saw it. You were in a relationship with a widow or divorced person. were a person with masculine energy. had children and a structure. were very loyal to their family. I see you as a kind of perdition. Some people won't like that, but in another life you were like a homewrecker. Someone who could work in a brothel, too. But that's something very specific to some people. You had a beautiful relationship, but you had many suitors. You attracted attention, perhaps because of your sensuality. "I don't belong to anyone." You had a very bohemian life and he tried to control it, taking you to his house, asking you to marry him or have a stable relationship, giving you gifts and turning you into a perfect housewife.

In this life you can bring people who want to control you all the time, especially because of your way of being. You still have that personality that you had in your past life, more that others piles, you are still very connected to that past life. It's as if you have this rebellious streak, this lack of shame in being beautiful and sexy, and people go crazy, especially men. There's a song by Cyndi Lauper that talks about this: "Men take pretty girls and hide them from the world." BE CAREFUL WITH CONTROLLING RELATIONSHIPS AND LUST. REMEMBER THAT IT'S OK TO BE LIKE THIS. MEN COULD BE WITH WHOEVER THEY WANT BEFORE MARRIAGE, WHILE WOMEN HAD TO STAY VERY PURE. THIS DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. DON'T BE ASHAMED. I needed to put it in caps because I feel that many who chose this pile have many problematic issues with themselves, they may have been pruned their entire lives, so listen carefully to each word in this pile. I always see a feeling of guilt in you, i see your soul, really.

[holyblonded]

jealousy, jealousy | birds of a feather

pairings: paige bueckers x black!oc

summary: rocky schedules cause a drift in paige and cecilia’s relationship

warnings: jealous paige jealous paige jealous paige

notes: y’all i hate nova this time of year. everyone is on guard (rightfully so!) and tell me why i saw a tr*mp truck on my way to school 😐

Paige never considered herself the jealous type. Heck, she even bragged to many of her teammates that's the word didn't exist in her relationship. She loved Cecilia, Cecilia loved her. The same story for years now and everyone knew it. But, with the two of them both being in season and traveling, their window for their usual FaceTimes has shrunk and their texts have become brief. Paige's security in the relationship was shaken.

"Hi, I'm Cecilia and this is-" Cecilia pointed to her two friends on either side of her.

"Gavi-"

"and Pedri."

"And this is the best friends test," They all said together, Cecilia sounding much more upbeat than the other two.

"Here's how to the game goes, we all take turn asking questions and the other two write it down on the whiteboard so whoever gets it right, gets a point," Cecilia explained to the camera.

Cecilia grinned at the camera. "Alright, let's kick this off. First question: What's my favorite color?"

Gavi and Pedri scribbled furiously on their whiteboards before holding them up in unison.

"Yellow!" they both said at the same time, sounding like a rehearsed choir.

Cecilia clasped her hands together, looking touched. "Awww, you guys know me so well!"

Pedri smirked. "That was the easiest question ever."

"Don't get cocky," Cecilia shot back, flipping her cue card. "Here's a harder one: Who did I make my debut against?"

Both boys froze, their markers hovering over their boards.

"Uh... Sevilla?" Pedri guessed hesitantly.

"No, no, it was Espanyol," Gavi said with the confidence of someone who was absolutely wrong.

Cecilia gave them both a disappointed look. "Wrong and wrong. It was Real Madrid."

Gavi's eyebrows furrowed. "Your debut was El Clasico? That's crazy, why would they do that?"

"Cause I'm the greatest. But, yeah, no pressure or anything," Cecilia shrugged nonchalantly. "Just 90 minutes of running in the biggest game against Spain at the age of fourteen. Totally chill. Just another day being the best.”

"Shut up," Pedri rolled his eyes.

Cecilia laughed as she wiped the imaginary dust off her hands. "Okay, my turn's done. Gavi, you're up!"

Gavi smirked as he grabbed the question card in front of him. "Alright, let's see if you two actually know me. First question: What's my go-to meal after a hard match?”

Cecilia and Pedri immediately started scribbling on their whiteboards.

"Pizza," Cecilia said confidently, holding up her board.

"McDonald's," Pedri countered, grinning as he turned his board around.

Gavi pointed at Pedri. "He's right. McDonald's all the way."

Cecilia groaned. "Seriously? You're an elite athlete, and you're eating McNuggets after games? Nourish your body, dummy."

"Don't judge me, C," Gavi defended. "Next question: What's my biggest fear?"

Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Oh, this is easy." She quickly wrote something down.

Pedri hesitated, tapping his marker against his chin before finally scribbling something.

"Alright, show me," Gavi demanded.

"Spiders," Cecilia said, flipping her board.

"Practice after a game with a lot of yellow cards," Pedri guessed, his grin wide and teasing.

Gavi's face dropped as Cecilia and Pedri laughed. "Haha, so funny Pedri, but the answer is spiders."

Cecilia pumped her fist in the air. "Finally, some points for me!"

"Alright, it's my turn," Pedri said, leaning back in his chair with a smug look. "Let's start with an easy one: What's my favorite TV show?"

Gavi rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, we all know this."

Cecilia wrote something down quickly, her tongue poking out in concentration.

"Ready? One, two, three!" Pedri called.

"Money Heist," Cecilia said, holding her board up.

"Money Heist," Gavi echoed, flipping his board.

Pedri nodded. "Yep. Too easy. Next question: How old was I when I scored my first professional goal?"

Cecilia furrowed her brow. "Ugh, this is a trick question. I know it."

"Why would it be a trick question?" Gavi asked, already writing.

"Because everything with Pedri is a trick question," Cecilia replied, jotting down her answer.

"Alright, answers?" Pedri said.

"Seventeen," Cecilia guessed.

"Sixteen," Gavi said confidently.

Pedri shook his head, grinning. "You're both wrong. I was seventeen and three months."

Cecilia groaned. "You're the worst. Who even remembers the months?"

Pedri smirked. "A winner, that's who."

After a few more rounds, the three friends were in tears from laughing, their boards covered in half-erased answers and doodles.

"So who won?" Gavi asked, leaning over to tally the scores.

Pedri squinted at the paper. "Cecilia. By half a point."

"What?" Gavi exclaimed. "That's rigged! She probably cheated."

Cecilia gasped dramatically. "Excuse me? I'm just smarter than you two combined."

Pedri shrugged. "She's not wrong."

Gavi crossed his arms, pouting. "Next time, we're doing a test where I get to choose all the questions."

"Good luck with that," Cecilia teased. "We all know you'd still lose."

The video ended with the three of them laughing, Cecilia tossing an eraser at Gavi, who pretended to dodge it in slow motion.

Paige watched as the video faded to black, her chest filling with an indescribable feeling. A rather uncomfortable warmth accompanied by a sharp tug in her chest and a knot in her throat that made it hard to breathe.

"P," Nika called out. "You good?"

"Yeah," Paige's teeth were clenched. "I'm good."

Paige was head over heels for Cecilia and when they missed a day of talking, it felt like withdrawals. While Cecilia found this trait of Paige endearing, the same cannot be said for her teammates and friends.

"Paige! Shut the fuck up, please," Azzi groaned.

"I miss her, Azzi. My heart hurts," Paige complained as she clutched her chest dramatically. "My heart feels like it's going to explode."

"Let it," Nika mumbled in passing.

Paige sighed and trudged to her room throwing herself on the bed. She opened TikTok and went through her routine whenever she missed Cecilia, watching her edits.

Paige scrolled through the app enjoying the many thirst trap edits of her girlfriend when a certain in came across her screen. It's started out normal but a clip from an interview with Jana popped up and it turned on to a ship edit to the song Glue by Beabadoobee.

Paige knew she shouldn't have, but she clicked on the comments.

the ultimate barca couple 🗣️

they need to get together already 😭

bruh they are so cute

That same unsettling warmth filled Paige again. An uneasy, persistent ache grew in her stomach as she quickly swiped out of the app.

"Hey, Amor," Cecilia smiling face took up Paige's phone. Paige instantly sent her a smile yet. This is the first time she saw her girlfriend the whole week with their schedules keeping them apart.

"Hey, baby. I was thinking-" Paige was interrupted by a voice calling for Cecilia.

"Cari!" The voice of Ona Batlle rang through the small hallway where Cecilia was hiding. " Per què t'amagues aquí? (Why are you hiding here?)"

"Parlant amb la Paige sense que la Pina i la Patri em molestessin (Talking to Paige without Pina and Patri bothering me)," Cecilia answered as she smiled up at Ona from the floor.

"Okay, Cari," Ona planted a quick kiss on Cecilia's cheek before patting her head. "Assegureu-vos de dinar, d'acord. (Make sure to get lunch, okay.)"

"Si, si," Cecilia dismissed and swatted Ona's hands away before the older girl made her way to the cafeteria. "What were you saying, Amor?"

Paige gave her a tight lipped smile, with the unpleasant warmth filling her chest, "It's not important, don't worry about it, babe."

Paige tossed and turned, before she settled on her back, staring at her dorm ceiling. After a Google search and looking at advice videos on TikTok, Paige has chalked up the odd emotion she's been feeling was jealousy. She had never felt the feeling before in her relationship with Cecilia. With both of their careers taking off their usual everyday talks had dwindled down, and seeing Cecilia getting shipped with her teammates hurt Paige.

The blonde looked at her alarm clock that read 11:04 pm. She knew it was 5 in Barcelona but her brain moved on autopilot as she reached for her phone and dialed Cecilia's number. After the second ring, the call was answered by the groggy twenty year old.

"Amor? Are you okay?" Cecilia asked, attempting to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"Are you in love with someone else?" Paige blurts out. Cecilia then sat up in bed, wide and awake.

"Amor, what?"

"Do you love Gavi or Pedri or Ona or anyone else in Spain?" Paige restated.

Cecilia shook her head, not comprehending what Paige could be asking right now. "What? Amor— no. There's no one else I love. What's been up with you lately? Háblame."

Paige sighed, her free hand coming up to rub at her temple as she tried to find the right words. "I don't even know where to start. It's just... lately, things have felt different, and I've been overthinking everything. You're all the way in Spain, and I'm here, and we barely get to talk like we used to. And then I see those videos of you with Gavi, Pedri, Ona, and your whole team..." She paused, her voice catching. "And I see the way people ship you with them, and it just... it hurts, Cece."

Cecilia's heart sank as she listened. "Paige," she said softly, her voice laced with concern.

"I know it's stupid, okay?" Paige continued, her words tumbling out now. "I know they're just your friends, and you're close with them because you spend so much time together, but I can't help it. I've never felt this... jealous before. And I hate feeling this way because I trust you—I do—but my brain just won't shut up."

Cecilia stayed quiet for a moment, letting Paige vent. Then, she took a deep breath and spoke, her tone calm but firm. "Amor, listen to me. You're the only person I love. You're my person. Always and forever. Not Gavi, not Pedri, not Ona—none of them. They're my friends, yes, and I love spending time with them, but it's not the same kind of love. What I feel for you? It's on a completely different level."

Paige sniffled softly, her fingers gripping her phone tightly. "But you're so far away, Cece. And they get to see you every day. They get to laugh with you, be around you, while I'm just... here. I feel like I'm losing you, even if I know that's not true."

"You're not losing me," Cecilia said with conviction, her voice softening again. "I promise, you're not. I know things have been tough lately with our schedules, and I hate that I can't talk to you as much as I want. But no matter how busy things get, you're always in my heart, Paige. I think about you every day, and I can't wait for the moment I can hold you again."

Paige let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just needed to hear that."

"And I'll remind you every day if you need me to," Cecilia said, a small smile creeping into her tone. "This is new for us, being apart for this long, not finding time to visit, but we're a team, remember? We'll figure it out, like we always do."

Paige finally let herself relax, the tension melting away from her body. "I love you, Cece. I'm sorry for being so insecure."

"Don't apologize for how you feel," Cecilia said. "It's okay to feel like this. Just talk to me, okay? No more holding it in until you're randomly calling me at five in the morning.”

Paige laughed softly, the sound making Cecilia's heart swell. "Deal."

"Good," Cecilia said warmly. "Now, get some sleep, Amor. I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll figure out a time to talk more often, okay?"

"Okay," Paige murmured, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Goodnight, Cece."

"Goodnight, mi amor. Sweet dreams."

[dr-stories-ask-blog]

[The Judgement knew her time was short. She could feel it. It started when she heard the news of Sublime's death. Depression. Anger. Denial. Fear.] [The Sister laughed. It's not a kind one. Nor is it cold. This is the laugh of someone who lost it.] [You know what's funny about that, Sublime? You're wrong about the cause. It's not the holding in that is kill—] [As if to prove her point, the flowers on her hair start to wilt. At the same time, it felt like someone stabbed her in the back with a dagger. She winces before continuing.] [—ing us. It's the spiral. The expression. The emotions themselves.] [Every change that she was going through was a tick on her countdown clock. Every change, she felt herself become weaker. She was aware of the risk of becoming The Brother. That is why she blocked out her emotions. That is why she pretended that nothing was wrong.] [That is why I was detached. That is why I was cruel. Not because I wanted to, or that I didn't know any better. But because the restraint is what kept me alive. I'm s—] [Another stab of pain. This one, in her left eye. She groans in pain as she instinctively covers it with her hand. Black liquid seems to be dripping through the covering hand.] [—orry if I hurt you. I was just trying to keep everyone safe. But I was never good at that, was I?!] [Who was she kidding. She was digging her own grave. She knew she was. But what else was she going to do?! None of the other Judgements give a damn. They couldn't! There was no help for her condition.]

[Where. Where would I be able to get help? If the other Up Above hear about this, what do you think they'll do? It's not like I can suddenly get therapy BECAUSE MY KIND DOESN'T HAVE THIS ISSUE!]

[as if they haven't seen this all already]

[As soon as she finishes, she feels one. Last. Thing.] [Her heart beats rapidly. Then she feels the imaginary dagger stab into it and twist the blade. She lets out a scream of pain before dropping to the floor. She was too weak to stand up.]

The sound of an approaching train can be heard. Grab your tickets, hold em tight. It's gonna be one hell of a ride!~

Mr time

Mrs Earth

Ms judgement

Mr Hyde

Ms Octayve

Hm....guess they lost theirs

Ah!

And Mr Gecko.

ALL ABOARD!

[leebrontide]

I ever tell y'all about the South African nun I used to work with?

She's the only nun I have ever personally known. No idea how good of an example she is. I'm guessing she's an outlier in many respects.

She had a masters in social work, and worked very hard at the addiction counseling center I used to work with. All her paycheck went to supporting the order. She was, indeed, a bit severe for my taste sometimes. I guess she followed the stereotype in that way.

But I was under the distinct impression she joined the order to help protect her from retribution for her anti-apartheid activism. Don't get me wrong, she was a big fan of Jesus, but she also used to sneak out of the convent when she was young to go clubbing. The met the Pope in jeans.

When I decided to be a good ally to deaf folks by being honest when I couldn't make out what someone was saying (lol. That was a learning experience) she was the first person to offer to tutor me in ASL. (First of 4. Turns out I'm kinda deaf.)

She was AGGRESSIVELY pro queer. Like if someone said something homophobic in her presence they were IN FOR IT.

And one time, she was called in for jury duty, and she was gone for over a month. Which, to be fucking honest, was a massive pain in the ass for the rest of us, who had to cover her work. At the end she came back, looking absolutely smug. Apparently they'd put her holy but on a jury looking to convict a young trans woman of something that, if you listened to anybody but the cops, she was obviously being framed for.

The prosecution pushed hard. Several jurors were willing to convict.

But this sweet, holy troll not only gave her entire paycheck from her work to the convent, her entire living came from her order. Which meant, out of the whole jury, she was the only one who could sit there in deliberation indefinitely without loosing a cent. And she sat her ass down and argued and protested and refused to budge until this girl was officially not guilty.

None of us were irritated for her being gone so long.

She didn't always know the right words, and she didn't understand everything, but she knew the main thing- take people at their word, and trust that they know their experiences and their selves better than you do. And she was always very kind about asking me questions that might irritate.

The final thing that won her my heart tho, actually came after I was fired from that job for, frankly, being disabled. Which you'd think would be illegal but since the manager had kindly offered me what looked like a good deal, to let me go contract instead of salary, for more flexible hours, they'd talked me into signing away many of my worker's protections. So, they could get away with it.

And this nun marched right into my boss's boss's office and blasted her with the full force of her catholic guilt beam. Or however that works. I don't know. I'm not Catholic. Boss-boss was reportedly in tears. As frankly she should be! Ableism in a therapy setting is a special level of evil. Common, but still evil.

I have no point, I was just thinking fondly of her this evening, and how sometimes your allies aren't where you expect them to be.

[arc-misadventures]

Celebrity Crush

Jaune: Okay, okay... I can do this... I can do this...

Nora: Are you sure, Jaune?

Ren: Yeah, you look like you're about to have a panic attack.

Jaune: Well excuse me, but I'm about to meet my girlfriends mother! I think it's reasonable that I don't want to embarrass myself in front of her!

Ren: Uhh...

Nora: Okay, that's fair.

Pyrrha: Relax, Jaune, you have nothing to worry about. I'm sure my mom will love you! Your parents love me, I'm sure my mother will love you just as much in turn~!

Nora: That's not a fair comparison.

Pyrrha: What?

Jaune: Yeah, that's like comparing the value of a diamond to some common rock quartz.

Pyrrha: Hey! What did I say about talking about yourself like that!

Jaune: To not be that rude?

Pyrrha: To not to!

Jaune: I deny the existence of such a statement.

Pyrrha: Ohhh... Come on, Jaune. Let's go say hi to mom.

Jaune: Okay...

Ren: Good luck, Jaune!

Nora: Have fun saying hi to, Pyrrha's mom!

Ren: Think they'll be okay?

Nora: No, not really.

~~~

Pyrrha: Okay, Jaune, are you ready?

Jaune: No. But, lets do this...

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: Good enough to me. Let's go!

Pyrrha: Okay, Jaune! Say hello to my mother, Athena Nikkos!

Athena: Oh? So you're, Jaune Arc? My little girls boyfriend it's nice to...?!

Jaune: Red Hood?! Pyrrha, your mother is the legendary huntress the, Red Hood?!

Pyrrha: Y-Yeah...?

Jaune: Why the hell didn't you tell me she is your mother?!

Pyrrha: Because, she is my mother, Athena Nikos first, Red Hood last.

Jaune: That is a fair, and valid point!

Pyrrha: Thank you...?

Jaune: But, seriously?! Why couldn't you tell me that your mother was my childhood hero, and crush?!

Pyrrha: Childhood hero?

Athena: Childhood crush~?

Pyrrha: My mother is your childhood hero?

Jaune: What? Can't a guy see a girl as his childhood hero? I mean come on, your mother is a strong, brave noble warrior who fights to save people whoever they are, wherever they are! She's the epitome of noble beauty, and grace that everyone looks up to. She's such an amazing example of a Hunter, that I can't help, but to aspire to a, Huntsmen of her caliber!

Pyrrha: Oh... That's fair... I had a similar feeling when I decided to become a, Huntresses myself.

Jaune: See! She's an inspiration for anyone, male, or female, faunas, and humans alike!

Athena: Oh, it's nice to hear that I am an inspiration to the next generations! But, what is this about me being your childhood crush~?

Jaune: Uhh... Well... a kid... goes through puberty... And, then we have someone like you... and your voluptuous body.. well defined curves, and... round bouncy assets... Can you blame a guy?!

Athena: Oh~? Is that so~?

Pyrrha: Wait... is that why you like me, because I reminded you of your childhood crush?!

Jaune: To be fair! I didn't know you two were related! I always like you, Pyrrha because you're you. Sure you look a lot like my childhood crush, but I never knew she was your mom! Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't mistake you for her. Bar the eyes, you two look identical! Your mom is just thiccer... and, a milf... A thic milf...

Pyrrha: Thiccer...?

Athena: A thic milf~?

Jaune: Honestly... if you didn't tell me she was her mother, I would have thought she was your older sister. Honestly, Ms. Nikos, you don't look like a woman in her mid thirties.

Jaune: She is in her mid thirties right?

Athena: I'm actually twenty eight years old.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: D-Did she just say she is twenty eight years old...?

Pyrrha: She did.

Jaune: But, that means you were eleven when you had her...?!

Athena: Relax, Jaune. I'm Pyrrha's mother, but I'm not her mother-mother.

Jaune: Eh?

Pyrrha: She's actually my aunt. My parents, my birth parents died when I was seven, Grimm attack. Athena, took me in since she was the only member of my family left. I just started calling her mom after a while, and Athena just accepted it.

Jaune: Oh... That... that's good to know. I almost had a panic attack at the possible implications of that statement...

Athena: That's understandable. That's how most people acted when I told them I had a kid. Ahh~! It became a pretty good conversation starter when talking to new people. Now then, on to the real questions about your adorable, handsome little boytoy~!

Jaune: B-Boytoy?

Athena: You've been dating for about a six months, so what base are you at~?

Jaune: Base?

Pyrrha: S-Second base...

Jaune: Oh that base.

Jaune: ...?!

Jaune: Wait, why are you talking about that?!

Athena: Making any progress for third base?

Pyrrha: We've gotten pretty close, but I keep getting cock blocked by my teammates, and friends...

Jaune: Oh, so that's why you were so angry all those times...

Athena: Need some... help~?

Jaune: H-H-Help?

Pyrrha: Yes please~!

Jaune: Yes?!

Athena: Alright then. Hey, Jaune~?

Jaune: Y-Yes...?

Athena: You want to live every guys childhood dream~?

Jaune: W-What dream?

Athena: Fucking their childhood crush~!

Jaune: ...

Pyrrha: While having a threesome with their daughter~!

Jaune: ...

~~~

Nora: Where are they?

Ren: Yeah, they should have been back hours ago.

Nora: They should both still be here.

Ren: Go see what they're...?!

: OhhhhHH~!

NR: ...

Ren: W-Was that what I think it was...?

Nora: I think it...?!

: Just like that you fucking stud~!

NR: ...

Nora: T-That wasn't, Pyrrha...

Ren: Does that mean...?!

: Mom! Hurry up, I want to have my turn!

Nora: Okay, we're going now!

Ren: Already ahead of you!

Nora: That may not have gone how I expected things to go, but... they're getting along...

Ren: That's one way of putting it...

///

This was a character I could never use, because I could never think of a way to incorporate her into any stories. But, as Pyrrha's mother; That'll work nicely.

What do you think. @lar-mx is it good?

Link to Art

[justjudethoughts]

The hardest part about recovering from Religious OCD is that you are eventually going to have to make the most terrifying leap of faith in the world: to admit that you have done all you can, and trust that God is going to take care of the rest.

For someone who has never experienced OCD, that probably doesn't sound scary at all. But believe me, when you seriously believe that your immortal soul is on the line, that kinda of trust take every last thing you have.

To trust that He wants you in heaven more than you want to be in heaven. To trust that He knows how much you love Him, even when you think that you aren't positive that you love Him. To trust that jumping through hoops isn't what gets you to heaven—His arms are.

For a Catholic, that probably looks like trusting your loved ones when they tell you that you don't need to go to confession. "Okay, but what if I did that time, and it happens to be the ONE time I wasn't obsessing?" 1) the likelihood of that happening is slim to none BUT 2) if it did, do you really think a God Who is love and mercy itself would hold that against you? Don't you know that He knows how confused and scared you are? Don't you know that He knows that you are trusting your loved ones because your brain can't be trusted? Don't you know that He knows that you love Him so much you want to never, ever, ever hurt Him, and you are just trying to be healthy? That is the leap of faith you have to make.

For an Evangelical, it likely looks like doing your best to dismiss questions about whether or not you are saved. You did what you knew to do. You repented, you were baptized, you love God and you are continuing to seek Him out. "But what if I didn't repent right?" --- If you weren't repentant, you wouldn't be worried about it. You love Jesus with everything in you. I know you do. Because if you didn't, you wouldn't be sobbing over the sinner's prayer, trying to say it "correctly." Jesus knows. Jesus knows Your heart, and He came to earth for you, and the misfiring neurons in your brain are not going to be what determines your eternal salvation. He wants you. And you want Him. And that's enough. That's your leap of faith.

And some point, you have to throw your hands in the air and say "Jesus, I did everything I can. I'm scared, and I'm confused, and I don't understand anything, and I don't know what to do anymore. So will you figure it out for me?" And rest in that. Because He will figure it out for you. You don't need to be solving all those mental puzzles. He knows the answers.

He is not mad at you for being confused. He is not upset with you for being scared. He is not angry that you don't have all the answers. Righteousness is not necessarily determined by clarity. He is not impatient with you for being a little lost. He does not begrudge you for your illness.

That is the scariest leap of faith you will ever take. But brothers and sisters, there is freedom on the other side. There is joy on the other side. And Christ will catch you when you jump.

[helioswritings]

Want

Shanks x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

Warnings: none

You’re in love with your captain, you know it like you know the sun is going to come up in the mornings, and go down at night.

The air was cold as you exited the warmth of the bar and the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes made them sting. You felt stupid, you were stupid. Shanks could kiss whoever he wanted in whatever shit bar he wanted to. You weren't together, hell, he didn't even know how you felt, so it was stupid to be jealous.

It didn't stop you though, especially when you closed your eyes and saw his hand trailing up her thigh, of her grabbing his face to pull him in closer, to make the kiss deeper. You debated even going back to the ship tonight, you really didn't want to be around if he was going to bring her aboard, and then you felt really pathetic about that, so you marched back to the Red Force anyways.

You knew how Shanks was, and you were very conscious of who he was, too. One of the Four Emperors of the sea and those who weren't terrified of him probably wanted them in his bed too. You knew he had the ability of making people feel special, you knew the power of his charismatic smile, of his loyalty and ferocity. He'd gotten you to fall in love with him easily enough, after all, even if he didn't mean to. You doubt(more like hoped) he knew, but you knew the rest of the crew had long since caught on. You're pretty sure Yasopp had thrown you a pitying look as you walked out, which really humiliated you because you didn't want to live in a world where fucking Yasopp pitied you.

As you were ambling your way through the sand back to the ship, a hand on your shoulder stilled you.

"Where are you going?" The rough timbre of your captain's voice rumbled in your ear.

"Wasn't feeling like drinking tonight, sorry Captain."

You turned to look him in the eye and regretted it. Shanks had lipstick smudged across the corner of his lips and the pupils of his golden brown eyes were blown. He looked very pleased with himself, or would, if he wasn't wearing a small frown.

"Are you feeling okay? Do I need to call Hongo?"

You laugh, although a little bitterly. "No, Captain, I don't need you to call the ship's doctor because I don't feel like drinking."

His frown deepens. "At least let me see you back to the ship."

You know he's stubborn enough to not leave you alone about it, he's got an awful lot of manners for a pirate.

"You looked like you were having fun," you say instead, "don't let me stop you."

"Nah, I'd rather see you back safely."

And doesn't that just piss you off? That he makes you feel so special when you know the opposite? When you know he doesn't look at you and imagine what it would be like to kiss you? You allow an annoyed huff to leave you, but you don't voice it. If the great Red-Haired Shanks wants to personally escort you, then far be it from you to stop him. What a bastard.

The walk is quiet and as usual you stand on the side where his arm is. He prefers it that way, he says, he tells you he likes to be able to reach out and grab you if he needs to. He's so charming about it.

"Do you need me to stay with you?" He breaks the silence between the two of you.

"I'm a grown woman, I don't need a babysitter." The words are razor sharp, a little harsher than you intend for them to come across.

He closes his eyes and lets out a huff of annoyance. Shanks probably isn't used to this amount of pushback from you. "Let me rephrase: do you want me to stay with you?"

You do, of course you do, but you shake your head. "I'll manage."

His eyes turn a little steely and you know this to be his captain expression. "I'm going to stay with you."

You groan internally. "Are you sure you're not just looking for an excuse to keep me company?" A little harmless flirting didn't hurt anything.

"Always."

And that's too weighty for you right now, especially from someone who had his tongue down another woman's throat a few minutes back.

Shanks escorts you to the ship and then up to his room, which is another thing just off about tonight.

"You'd think I was dying the way you're giving me all this special treatment, Captain."

"I just need to talk to you, to keep you company."

Something warm settles in your chest, something syrupy sweet. You can't get rid of it as you sit on a chair next to his ridiculously sized bed, so you tell him; "this bed is ridiculous."

"My ego needs somewhere to sleep."

You snort. "And I'm sure it sleeps well in a bed like this. It looks like Whitebeard and his whole crew could sleep on this thing."

"Now you're just being ridiculous." He says, though it's with a smile.

"Have to be ridiculous to be on this crew, Captain."

He sobers immediately. "That's what I needed to talk about."

That's almost never good. "Go on."

"Do you want to leave? The crew? You've been acting differently, distant."

You didn't think he would notice, nor did you think he could sound so....vulnerable. Like the thought of you leaving hurt.

"I've just been thinking," you say, and then your eyes widen at the utter despair that crosses his face, "not about leaving! It's like- well, I definitely don't want to say."

His hand brushes your cheek. "You can tell me anything."

And you believe him, you really do. "I'm pretty sure I'm, at least somewhat, in love with you."

He jolts back like you've taken out a cattle prod and shocked him. "You're what?"

The tone of his voice makes you regret your words and you move to get up, but just as soon as you've moved away he's grabbing on to you again. "Are you sure?"

The laugh you let out is wounded. "More sure than anything in my whole life."

Shanks leans forward and he's so so close. You can feel his breath across your face. "I'm...." You don't know what to say, not really. You're afraid that if you're too loud, you'll scare him away.

"Is this your first kiss?" He's not teasing, just curious.

"Far from," you answer, still whispering, "I've just never wanted it this bad."

A finger trails across your collarbone and you shiver. "How bad?"

"Like it's all I can think about."

He presses a small kiss to the corner of your lip. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"I've never done it when I really wanted it."

You rub at the lipstick on his face. "Are you sure?"

He rubs his head into your neck. "I've wanted you so bad I can feel the want running through my veins."

"Careful there, Captain, you're sounding like someone's dirty novel."

The two of you are nose to nose now. "Shanks."

It feels more intimate, somehow, even though you can feel his breath fan across your face, even though every movement makes your noses brush. Absent-mindedly, you lick your lips. His eyes track the movement and you shiver. His cheeks are flushed and you don't think it's from the ale.

Shanks cups the sides of your face gently, like he's holding something fragile and precious. He leans closer.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod like you can't bring yourself to talk - like the idea of talking is at all appealing to you right now,

He leans forward and captures your lips with his own. He's like a man starved, kissing you like he'll never eat or drink again. You gasp into his mouth and he takes advantage of it. The feel of his tongue startles you into backing away and he frowns.

"I'm sorry." He tells you.

"Don't be. It was just a lot, kissing like you weren't just kissing someone else."

He touches the corner of his mouth, pulling away vermillion stains with his fingers. "When you walked away, I followed after you."

"You looked like you were having fun."

"She wasn't you, though. They never are."

Shanks pulls you on the bed with him, his lone arm circling around you to tug you close. "I never feel the same way about them as I do you."

You can't help it. "And how do you feel about me?"

"A lot. Like I've waited my whole life for you. I feel a whole lot about you."

Your snort turns into a giggle as you bury your face in his neck. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Neither does how I feel about you."

You yawn, the softness of his bed and the warmth of his body suddenly becoming too much for you. "Goodnight, Shanks."

He kisses the top of your head, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

And it is.