#minimum 3 weeks for this situation to start getting fixed

[lilgynt]

i told my mom i’m drugging myself everyday told my brother i’m gonna resent him and my other brother for life who else gonna get an awful truth from me today cmon

[viburnt]

Divorcing Izuku Midoriya Headcanons

I'm on a creative rush, and this may make zero sense because I'm tired lmao. Anyways, have some angst <3

Tagging the babes: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @trickster-kat @angelshimaa (babe, you've missed some very angsty posts) @xhieru @mimisxs @dabislittlemouse

Content Warning: Divorce, emotional abuse and manipulation, mention of baby-trapping, alcohol.

• As I said in my last post, divorcing Izuku is a nightmare. Think about the most energy-draining and mental health deteriorating process, and multiply it for a minimum of 6 months. Izuku won't make things easy for you at all, trying to drag and prolong the whole ordeal just to keep you close. I've divided this set of headcanons by key moments/topics to keep some order. I hope you enjoy them, I'm pouring my heart on these (also pay attention to detail because I'm working on something hehe).

Denial and confusion: the first days after you serve him papers

• Izuku genuinely doesn't understand why you want to leave, refusing to accept the fact that you're not happy being by his side. He's given you all there is to give: a comfortable house, nice clothes, expensive cars, etc. So when you serve him papers, Izuku's first reaction is confusion followed by fear. In that head of his, he's made everything a good husband has to do! So why? Why would you not be happy?

• If you were smart enough and planned your movements with care, you should be able to go through your divorce without depending financially on Izuku or having to live in the same place. You'd have to deal with his incessant calls and texts, often having to block unknown numbers to avoid hearing his whines, but it'd be less difficult. If you weren't thoughtful about the situation and proceeded without the right steps, oh, you're in for a treat: there's nowhere you can go besides the house you shared with him, no place where you can be at peace. You're at Izuku's mercy, like it or not, but that's another story.

• In addition to his denial, Izuku starts to (unconsciously) guilt trip you. Phrases like "Sorry for not being enough," and "I know I'm very pathetic" become frequent. It pains your heart to hear those things because you know Izuku loves you, you are just not compatible at all. You try to let him see it's not about being enough, it's more about effort; with much patience, you set things clear to avoid any misunderstandings, but Izuku just doesn't get it.

• "Haven't I done this or that for you? Didn't I buy you all these things? Am I not enough?" "Izuku, I didn't ask you for any of this, all I wanted was my husband..." Conversations like this occur during this phase, and they can only be held through the phone (when he is sober and not yelling/hollering how much of a mistake a divorce would be). He tries to gauge sympathy from you, telling you that his job is important but that he loves you so much!

• He becomes an empty shell of the bright ray of sunshine the public knew. It goes unnoticed by many, but the people who work around him can tell. It is then when he starts telling others about his marital situation, and you end up seeing faces you've met once or twice during galas or hero events. You "accidentally" stumble across your husband's colleagues, like Ochako, who try to convince you to give him a second chance. "I- I know we don't know each other a lot but please, consider it. Izuku is a great guy a-and I'm sure you guys could fix any problem!" It is embarrassing for you because no one wants people to know their issues.

• What's so ironic about the moment when you serve him papers is that he receives them at his office, the very root of all the problems in your marriage. It was the place where he had spent anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's... those four walls witnessed the beginning and the end of your relationship. Izuku has a mental breakdown when he finally reads the documents but, hey, he was still pro-hero Deku, right?

Negotiations and lawyers: The first weeks and months

• If having to deal with Izuku's colleagues trying to change your mind wasn't enough, be ready for your soon-to-be ex trying to negotiate. Midoriya suggests couple's therapy to talk this through, and for a split of second, it almost sounds like a good idea! But then you remember all those times when Izuku had promised you he'd be there for you and failed. It didn't seem plausible after that... Besides, all things considered, it'd be hard to find a therapist who could see your side of the story. Who would dare to tell someone as charming and popular as Izuku that he failed as a husband?

• Once therapy is off the table, Izuku brings up children. It may be considered a low blow, especially if one of your dreams was to form a family with him, so his offer felt cruel. "W-we can have kids! Wouldn't you want that? We can be a big family, with one- No, two babies!" "Ouch, it takes a divorce for you to even think about it, huh? That's uh, slightly concerning. Besides, a kid needs a father too... I'm not planning on being a single mom in this marriage" Now, Izuku strikes me as the kind that would try to . to stay. I'm sorry if it sounds terrible, but considering how sometimes he acts on impulse, he really could try it.

• Izuku also tries to be at home more often; he "cooks" (it's takeout disguised as home meals), brings you coffee to the bed, and calls you all kinds of sappy nicknames... It saddens you, why couldn't he care like that before? Of course, this point only applies if you still live with him during this whole process. If you don't, he starts frequenting the places where he guessed could find you: cafeterias, plazas, shops...

• Finding a lawyer for you was a hard task, especially because everyone sees you as a "dumb" woman who is trying to divorce Japan's number one hero. Not to mention they were very expensive, and Izuku was certainly not giving you money for that. You tell Izuku that mediations need to happen to progress with the divorce, but he never shows up to the meetings. There's always an excuse for that man! No matter how much you plea, he refuses to sign the paper. Izuku also becomes very mean towards you, outright berating you for not understanding him. It's gruesome to see him turn into such a monster during these months.

• As an additional point for this part, Izuku hires a private investigator to follow you around. He feels bad for thinking of it, but the idea that you could be seeing someone else while you're trying to divorce him eats him alive.

Last resort: Mediatic battle

• The media is very quick to pick up your marriage's fall down. Time after time you visited your lawyer's office for them to put two and two together, and Izuku takes that to his advantage. Sensationalist articles had already been happening, a lot of them being cruel and demeaning towards you. Titles like "Is she a cheater?" "No amount of success gives you the girl!" And "Pro-hero Deku will be looking for a new wife soon" started popping up. You have to take down any social platform to avoid being targeted.

• It is when Izuku gives a public declaration that things get worse. "I'm sorry, my wife is just not happy with me anymore. Please respect her wish! Don't harass her, I failed as a husband." It may seem like a hearty and sorrowful declaration from the outside, but Izuku picked word by word to gain sympathy and pressure you into changing your mind. People in the street call you "heartless", and the stress simply keeps growing for you.

• To put it in simple words, you were David against Goliath, except Goliath was a glorified person who had all the resources and support of the people. You were nothing but a tiny mouse squeaking to be set free of a relationship that was suffocating you.

The aftermath: Supposing you haven't given up and he signed the divorce papers

• If you somehow manage to divorce him after all these problems, congratulations. You survived 5% of the drama that awaits you! Now you won't be able to date someone without people snapping photos for entertainment news or judging you for leaving "such a great man". Izuku will still try to convince you to go back to him, playing his "sad lover" role in front of the cameras so well! He'll try to send expensive gifts and tell you to keep the house, he'll call you drunk in the middle of the night, and if you're not careful enough, he may try to gaslight you into thinking nothing wrong was happening in your marriage.

• One particular thing I must mention is that Izuku only signed the papers after you yelled at him at one of the legal mediations, hot embarrassment tears falling from your tired eyes as you begged him to let you go.

• Anyways, the list could go on, but those are the main points of divorcing Izuku :')

"Please, just sign the papers..." You said through the phone, your voice tired of pleading to someone who simply refused to hear you. "I will, I will! I'm just a little under the snow with work. Can you reschedule?" Izuku said, apologizing for not being there for you. Excusing himself for failing you, but refusing to let go. "You know how many articles I've seen with my face saying how much of bitch I am for visiting my lawyer's office?"

Izuku's silence was deafening, you could only hear him sigh slightly, perhaps feeling bad for putting you in such a position. "I don't want this divorce."

"But I do, so don't make things more difficult for me, please." He heard you say, biting his lip to hold back the tears. Izuku was glad you couldn't see him, sitting alone in his office with a half-empty bottle of wine you'd gifted him for his birthday. "Do you remember what day is today?" He asked.

"I don't know, Monday? I haven't slept lately." You answered unamused. "It's our anniversary... we married 5 years ago, on this very day." His words came out as a slow slur, his breath hitching as he crumbled through the phone. "I miss you a lot, please-"

"I'll see you on Wednesday, if you're not there I swear to God..."

...

"Mr. Midoriya?" Your lawyer called, her voice bringing your anxious husband back to reality. "Ah, sorry, it's me. Is... is she in there?" He asked, pointing at her office. She just looked at him with little sympathy and nodded. "On time, as always. Maybe you should avoid keeping her waiting, that's the least you could considering how many times we've had these conversations."

"There's no way I can fix this, is there?" Izuku asked as if the lawyer cared. "Wanna do something nice for her? Divorce her."

[reikunrei]

feeling incredibly averse to posting this but i'm just gonna drop my kofi link here in case anyone wants to help me get out of my increasingly shitty situation living with my parents

more info below ig

after having given my parents nearly $100k over the last four years, i'd love to be able to actually leave. my future job situation is still up in the air (i've submitted for about a dozen positions and the only one i've heard back from and interviewed for hasn't gotten back to me yet), and i haven't been able to build up any savings because, again, i was (and still am) helping my family afford rent and bills, and probably the taxes my parents are behind on, but if i think about that, i'll get too angry. no joke, i've given my family, at the bare minimum, 85% of my income over the last 4 years. the rest of it has gone toward medical stuff and, now, my car

at this point, with the combo of my mom refusing to lower her standards and my dad's seeming refusal to hunt for a new full time job, i don't see how they won't continue to bleed me dry. my dad even has a bad habit of taking money out of my old savings account that he's a joint owner on or whatever from when i got it set up when i was 16, even when i stopped actively putting money in it, so now any time it gets its automated $1 transfer from my checking account, he'll just take that $1 without consulting me. i'm not exaggerating, even if it has $1-2 in it, it'll be gone within a week

i've even put off starting on testosterone because of this. i wanted to start it like 3 years ago, but kept putting it off because of money issues and wanting to save as much as possible. i got really close to actually starting it this year, but because of how messy everything is, i put it off again bc having one more thing on my plate, especially when my parents are already weird about me being trans, was not something i wanted to deal with

not to mention, we're still currently not living under a lease in our house that we're, as far as i'm aware, still tens of thousands of dollars behind in rent on (again, my dad refuses to disclose our financial position honestly with any of us) and it's developed many, many issues bc the landlord, even before we were behind on rent, is shit and refuses to actually fix anything. and my dad loves to just ignore things unless we beg him to do something

i'd love to be on my own (in the, much more affordable, midwest) by the end of summer. i by no means want to rely on donations and i have other avenues i'm working with to make money (i still have my current full time job, but i'm going through my old belongings and selling a lot online), but i'll take any help i can get atp because i'm truly at my wits end. i'd start doing art commissions again if i could, but doing that from 2020-2022, partially on top of my full time job, absolutely wrecked my right hand and i'm still in enough pain that i can't make it a regular activity

idk how much else there is to say. there's more i could say but... i don't really wanna air all my dirty laundry here. i'm miserable in so many ways and it's just become increasingly clear that my dad expects me to constantly cover his ass. my younger brother gives money too, but he manages to go on big cross-country and overseas trips with friends, so i think i've been stuck with the burden of giving the most money. there's so many more things going on in the world rn and everyone is stretched thin so i don't expect much, or anything, but. idk. might as well throw it out there, right?

i’ve also since taken down the gfm i set up last year when we got our first eviction notice bc, while we still need the money, i don’t feel right keeping it up for multiple reasons, including “i don’t want to give any of that money to my family” and it feels too… serious to keep it up when i could just throw out my kofi instead

i just want to make sure i have some sort of safety net to catch me if i move before anything job-wise is finalized. i need to be able to afford a place to live for at least a month so i can job-search while physically being in the area i wanna move to, which would ultimately make it easier for me to find a job at all. i'm working on being more firm with giving less money so i can actually have the means to move and be safe and comfortable, but... that never lasts long in this house

anyway. that's it, i guess. thanks for reading

[mattmaesonnatural]

i work for a media company and ive had this thing for a guy (i’ve known him for 4 years) who i am a cohost with on podcast (there’s 3 of us, the 3rd host is actually the lead talent and is basically like a father figure to me) for over a year now. We have good chemistry and thats as far as anything has gone.

Last summer i had a bad situation happen at a bar and i told him about it and he made me feel really safe about bringing it up to him and helping me through it.

Right now i feel like he is the last person i could trust to bring up that to.

I care about him. I do not think he is a terrible person. I know he is emotionally unavailable. But in the last 6 months or so has been very weird towards me in his behaviour. As in used to be super friendly chatty silly nice. To arrogant and straight up mean. I’ve gotten 4 dm’s in the last 6 months about how he treats me on the podcast and for a while (maybe i was blind) i did not believe those messages until as of late. (He does not know about these messages)

He has never been in a real relationship as far as i know (yes red flag) but I’ve had a few people tell me that he caught feelings and is self sabotaging the friendship or flirtationship or whatever this is (this happened about a month ago) i’ve taken it as he figured out that i have feelings for him and he hates me. Clearly we have not talked about this as i don’t want to rock the professional side of this.

I see this man about 3 times a week. But i noticed he stopped looking at my instagram stories, he stopped interacting with my content, he has stopped acknowledging me by my name (he calls me ma’am), he will ask the other guys i work with questions about their life but never me anymore, some of the bigger projects i’ve worked on some that he is even apart of he gave me no credit or even a good job. About 2 months ago i had a different producer step in to help as I couldn’t be on the show due to a bigger project i was working on, this producer had 8 episodes to take care of and i caught this man telling him he’s the face of the podcast as i was standing right behind him.

There’s a billion other bare minimum moments that made me think we were getting back to the friendship we had. But then theres other moments where it’s like it’s all ruined by his doing. I am a lover girl to my core, my other colleagues all very respect what i do and yet my own cohost has made me feel so frustrated and pissed off about his behaviour towards me i am considering leaving the podcast but i feel like i owe it to myself to be mature enough to bring up some of this behaviour and how it’s made me feel.

I don’t want to make this an HR issue. It feels too personal and explaining this to one of my good guy friends he told me to call him out on his bullshit cause he’s just being rude. That he’ll either make excuses or actually listen to what you are saying.

I might be too in my head about it but i want to be open and honest about this with him cause i want this to be fixed i want to make sure this comes across as i need you to understand that the things you do are making me feel this way and its up to you to decide what you’re going to do about it.

I just need advice on how i bring this up? how i can start this conversation without it turning in to a blame game? I have to do this otherwise i feel like im just throwing in the towel because i got my feelings hurt.

[tazmilyduster]

October 4, 2024

It's overcast and slightly windy today. I've taken so long to post an update that fall has arrived. I'm still trying to find a job. Still trying to fix the house and still trying to get sober. My last attempt failed and resulted in a two week backslide, but I've been back on track for the past few days, at least in terms of medication crap with the pharmacies.

I've been trying to just locate and address the things that bother me to try and better maintain my stress levels. I started with backing up a lot of the files on my computer so I can feel a level of security after having my hard drive wiped twice in the few years, the first of which took probably over a decade of photos and video that I had taken around the midwest of nature paths and wildlife.

I used to be more routine about posting photos on a social media, but the pace of trying to keep up with everything and everyone while getting limited returns started to exhaust me.

When things are really bad, it just feels like I was just posting obligatory health updates to my friends/family to let them know that I still exist and am the bare minimum of okay. Or, wow, he must be doing great, they just posted a nice picture of their cat. But usually, the situation is like, three things are broken, I have a plan to fix two of them, and I'm desperately hoping nothing else goes before I can get to the third, but it probably will.

I did complete a drawing as part of the curse relics series (an alternative to Inktober that's 3 drawings/week rather than 1/day) but I'm sort of disappointed in both it's quality and originality tbh. It's like the scene in The Fountainhead (horrible book) where the main character catches his sculptor friend making something like shitty derivative precious moments figure. Most days I don't even feel like an artist anymore, I just feel like someone who pretended for too long. Anyways, it's time for lunch now.

[thetransomen]

Fuck fuck mother mother fuck fuck

i can't right now.

My mom's in and out of the hospital like once a week, and we barely talk. She just lays in bed all day and complains about everything. Like not to be insensitive to those with chronic illnesses, but she's *always* been like this. Even when she was healthy, she just lays in bed all day. Watches TV. And then wonders why *I*'m the one depressed. Why do *I* have so much anxiety.

She fucking screams at me if i open the blinds, bc she wants to walk around half-naked all the time (the bottom half. yeah i don't like it either). She does the absolute bare minimum of household chores, and she doesn't even make an effort to clean things up if she spills. It's like she has absolutely no self-esteem at all and never has. I can't even remember a time when she was really happy. Maybe when I was a kid, going on a vacation. The one vacation I ever remember having with her.

I just don't get her. She works all the time and takes the lowest-paying jobs, doesn't really try to improve herself. Like is this what she really thinks of herself? And how am I, her child supposed to care for her when I can barely care for myself? I have issues with money quite often and wish I made enough to move out. I have no hope of moving anywhere by myself anytime soon.

But now I'm getting desperate, because I can't care for her myself. I think she needs to move in with one of my aunts or grandma where she can actually get 24/7 help (my grandma lives with my uncle who helps her). I feel like I'm failing her, but I also think she got here by herself. She's ignored her own depression and anxiety and projected it all on me. I'd actually be a lot emotionally healthier if I didn't live with her. Especially if she hadn't been the one to "raise" me (i wasn't really raised by anyone. Maybe my grandparents and aunts and uncles. I spent far more time around them than my mom - she was always working. I never got why she never stopped working. Even working 3 jobs at once! I just wanted her to spend time with me. Instead, I spent most of my childhood alone at home. Making things up in my head. Letting my mind wander.... Kind of explains why I focus on writing as a creative pursuit, rather than performing in some way.)

I'm also at a point in my life where I'm starting to consider porn and related activities to make money. Not because I'm desperate. But rather, my libido tends to skyrocket on T, and I need lots of stimulation to get off. And it turns out, people like what I look like. I got 50+ men in my city interested with just one post.

And if I do decide to pursue that, I don't want to be anywhere near my mom when I do. She'd never find me anyway. I don't think she cares at all for porn. I just want to keep her safe and protected and never again have to work so much in her life. Like I want her to retire yesterday. She shouldn't have to work that much. NO ONE should have to work that much. Give her a fucking break. And give me a fucking break. We all need a fucking break.

You know all this would be instantly fixed if we had Unversal Basic Income? Or guaranteed housing? I think about this a lot. My situation would massively improve if that were true.

Now my aunt's trying to shame me to go to the hospital to see her. When she told me to stay home and clean. Because those are my mom's priorities. Doesn't care about herself, as long as the work gets done. Then she sits there in misery and practically enjoys feeling sorry for herself. She's done this her whole life, and it's taken me years to realize this is narcissistic behavior. Because I've noticed it in myself.

When you start to feel sorry for yourself, you actually get a huge ego. *Because* you feel worthless. Narcissistic Personality Disorder means you have extremely low self-esteem. And for me, it only got better when I realized I'm not perfect and never will be. And no one and nothing is. I accepted that I'm the same as anyone else, and I need to trust myself deeply - that's what faith is. That's where my faith in humanity lies - within myself. And with others, when I improve their day just by existing. Making eye contact. Smiling. I know I'm not worthless. I'll never be perfect. And no one else will be.

Because NPD means you feel sorry for yourself, you feel like you're supposed to be perfect. You become more concerned with being right than being kind, and that's your first mistake. Then you start to expect that of others. And well, look at society. It starts a cascading effect. To say that we don't understand depression is a bunch of BS. I mean, sure there are some people for whom it truly is inexplicable, but more often than not, it's because of some ridiculous expectation you're setting for yourself and everyone else. You get this black-and-white thinking (oh hi politics, is that you?) and you start to demonize certain people and things. And generally, you stop thinking of yourself as human, which is why you end up treating people so.

I've already written so much here, but it's safe to say I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Why I feel suffocated in my own home, why I get random bouts of anxiety. It's not coming from within. It's coming from everyone around me.

I really really think mental disorders are more social disorders than anything. But instead of a lack of communication between individuals, it's rather a lack of communication within the self. It's an introspective disorder. Maybe that's what we should re-name "abnormal psych". Because there's really nothing abnormal about it, when we're living in the abnormal society.

[comensoli]

Qualities Of A Top Drug Rehab Center

Drug addicts who want to seek treatment may visit a drug rehab center to get professional help. Although it could appear these are designed for actors, musicians and other famous people but the reality is that anyone can walk out no matter what they do. Finding a center to look into can be quite intimidating since you must choose the one that best suits your needs most. Here are some fundamental information to consider as you search for one.

Engagement

The drug rehab in Bluffton SC facility offers two primary options to interact with its clients. This is where you can choose between outpatient and residential care. Residential care occurs when the addict moves into the facility full-time to participate in their recovery programs. Outpatients on the other hand offers their services throughout the day, and returns home in the evening.

Counseling

There are two types of counseling that clients can get from the rehab facility for drug addiction. There are two kinds of counseling available that are available: individual counseling and group counseling. Individual counseling lets the person suffering from addiction have a face-to face meeting with the professional to discuss their issue. This includes acquiring knowledge about the causes of addiction and the methods that can be used to let the issue go completely. The addict can meet with other patients in the group sessions to talk about their problems. The group sessions permit participants to share personal stories as well as how their journeys to recovery have been. These sessions are a fantastic method for addicts to gain assistance from each other because they are able to know that they're not on their own and can help during the process of recovery.

Treatment

One drug rehab in Bluffton SC center is able to manage patients suffering from addiction to various drugs. It means that you don't need to find the one that is able to treat your particular addiction. Some of the addictions treated include: addiction to cocaine as well as crystal meth addiction, heroin addiction dependence, addiction to vicodin oxyContin addition and marijuana addition and many more. These centers also assist in help those who are addicted to multiple types of drug.

Rules and regulations

There are strict regulations and rules which govern a rehab center. The rules can include the prohibition of using drugs while a person is in the facilities, limited visitors, no physical relations with other participants and attendance to all the sessions. Although the rules might differ between institutions, they are typically in place to allow patients to benefit the most from the programs and ensure safety for everyone. This also helps to bring an order to the center.

Long-term

It is crucial to realize that visiting a Bluffton outpatient center isn't a quick fix so don't be expecting rapid results and treatment in just a few days. The majority of centers require at minimum 3 days to finish the programs that have been put in place. Some serious addictions can take at least six months to heal.

Prices

Since the center provides services for people of all income levels, it is not dependent on the ability of a person to pay. There are various treatments that fit your personal budget where you can choose the one that suits your financial situation most effectively. Certain facilities provide these services for free, while others charge thousands every week.

There are a variety of opportunities for recovering addicts to engage in while at the center for rehabilitation to make sure they are enjoying the program and don't get bored and start thinking about using drugs. In this regard, you'll see that some rehab centers provide alternative treatment methods that not solely focus on the issue of addiction to drugs but also on the overall health of one's spiritual, physical, and mental well-being.

[dark-ink-drinker]

Starting 2023 With...

I'm getting a slow start on my reading goals of 2023, already 2 weeks in and just finishing my first book. I think this might be a year of sequels and series-- because after this one I've got a couple others (The First to Die at the End by Adam Silvera, the sequel to They Both Die In the End; and The God of Lost Words and The Archive of th Forgotten by AJ Hackwith, the series started by The Library of the Unwritten.)

I think I mentioned last year that I'd been avoiding Colleen Hoover, assuming her popularity meant she was overhyped. Plus romance isn't really my thing... In theory at least, though subplot of a love story seems to be my very literal jam when reading. Anyway, maybe it was my mood or mental state the last half of last year, but I did actually enjoy the 3 books of hers I read, especially Reminders of Him and It Ends with Us. So, I was interested to see this sequel and more of Atlas and Lily's story. I won't like, I thought it was going to be a prequal based off the title so color me surprised to find out it takes place where It Ends with Us Left off.

I think the problem with sequels sometimes is that you're not getting anything new. The characters are who they are, who you already know. You may get new scenes, new perspectives, the other side of a story you already hard-- but the characters, the reactions, the results are exactly what you'd expect from them.

You get to see Lily as a mother, yes that's new. But she approaches motherhood with the same fear and care that you would expect from someone trying to break the cycle of abuse, who remembers what it was like to grow up witnessing her father's abuse of her mother and never wants her own daughter to experience the same.

And yes, while it is surprising that Atlas is as well rounded and levelheaded as he is given his own abusive childhood, he is the same well rounded and levelheaded man in this as he was in It Ends with Us. He's still as loyal and dedicated to his first taste of love, still the white knight who seems to be unfairly and unrealistically flawless.

My next statement has spoilers so stop reading here if you don't want anything, you know... spoiled.

The only big surprise was the reappearance of Atlas's absentee mother and, more importantly, the surprise that he has a 12-year-old brother, Josh.

But if you're hoping for a big surprise in what happens with that-- I'm sorry, Atlas handles it exactly how you'd expect someone as wonderful as Atlas to handle that, white knight savior complex and all.

Now I know all of this makes it sound like I didn't like it, or that I don't like Atlas. But I did like it... and I DO like Atlas. I rooted for him through the first book, desperate for Lily to choose her first love even when Ryle wasn't being a horrible excuse of a person.

Since I mentioned Ryle, let me take a moment to go off on a tangent that I probably should have on my first review but there was more of it in this book and it irked me more. Why Why Why did he get so much leeway for his horrible abusive behavior?! From Lily, from Alyssa, from Marshall-- everyone. In the first book, I thought maybe it was to show the layers of life, situations, relationships... that sometimes things aren't black and white. But to know his sister and brother-in-law/best friend don't step in and make him accountable for his own behavior. Ryle spends all his time after every tantrum blaming Lily, or her relationship with Atlas instead of his own issues. Instead of taking action to fix his own shit. And in It Starts with Us, when Lily wants to set some ground rules with Ryle at their family dinner, Alyssa and Marshall do BARE MINIMUM to support Lily and she cries over their support... WTF.

Anyway, back to the main point-- I did like this book despite my criticisms. It's a good book for people who always want a little more, who wonder what comes after the last page, or who like to have a crisp clean ending leaving nothing to imagination.

It was soft and warm and tied everything up in a nice, neat bow. It gave the readers everything they could want-- the love story, the moving in, the wedding, the ready-made family, the dream come true...

and they lived happily ever after.

I did love that Atlas wrote Lily letters, the way she wrote to her diary 'Ellen' in the first book.

My favorite part was towards the end when Atlas and Josh are talking about Josh's father, on whether he deserved a second chance and his responsibilities as a father:

"It blows my mind that this man has you for a son, and you want to be in his life, yet he still hasn't made and effort. You're a privilege, Josh. Believe me, if I'd known you existed, I would have knocked over buildings to find you."

It was the only section that came close to drawing tears to my yes.

Sweet, delicate; a good, easy read-- but more than likely my last foray into Colleen Hoover's world

I gave it a generous 4 stars on Good Reads, but 3 1/2 is more accurate.

⭐️⭐️⭐️ 1/2

[princesscatstronaut]

cool just all of my greatest fears at once awesome love that for me

so my heat hasn't been working for a few days. another relevant fact is that my apartment is a huge depression hole of messiness and trash. so before I called the maintenance folks, I wanted to have things more cleaned than they currently are. another relevant fact is that my lungs are so deconditioned bc of the multiple (and sometimes bi-yearly) bouts of pneumonia that I got during grad school due to stress. cleaning and/or taking out the trash is really hard and now I'm somewhat disabled and need help with these tasks. I hadn't started getting someone to come cleaner for me, bc I had just started at my job and wanted to save a little before that. but now that my heater needs fixed, there's no time.

to be logical, I have no data that says anyone at the management company for my building cares at all about how messy my apartment is. I've lived here 7 years and have always paid rent on time. but in the rental situation I was in before this apartment, I was renting from a private individual who threatened to evict me bc of not cleaning enough. I managed to clean enough that they had no problem renewing me for another year, so it must not've been that bad. either way it was a huge shame and I have landlord trauma about it. being seen as so messy that I shouldn't even be rented to, this is one of my greatest fears.

so when I placed the maintenance request last night, I assumed it would take a day and that I would have a little time to redd up more. however, the maintenance person came within an hour of posting it so I had to frantically make a path to the furnace. and then when he asked if there was a clear space in the bedroom for a space heater (so that it wouldn't catch fire), I couldn't provide one. and since I've been living with the temp at 61F for a few days, I have plenty of blankets so I'm fine with it. one more ping of shame. the guy then called the hvac guy and they're supposed to come around this afternoon.

the minimum I want to get done before they come around is to clean the little boxes and the bathroom. other than that, I'm not going to push it. I still have to work today, after all. I have to get a summary slide deck to our collaborators by the end of the day and have lab meeting around 3. I will have all of the analysis done in about an hour, then I just need to figure out how to interpret the results. but I think I can get that done by 3, so I'm not super worried about that. the hard part (running this program that I've been fighting with for 2 weeks), I did yesterday. luckily I'm so good at bash scripting that I can run all of this stuff in a script and do work *WHILE* I have a major panic attack about how messy my apartment is.

so yeah. last night was all fight-or-flight. didn't sleep super well. haven't taken my brain meds yet. haven't started working on the bathroom yet. my work-work is in progress and seems to be going well. I think that's pretty well automated at this point.

I woke up early-ish so that I could have time to clean a little, but now that I'm working on work stuff, I don't want to stop and do something else, even if it is automated. hopefully they can fix the furnace today, its supposed to be like 15F outside next week, and I don't know if the ambient temp will be warm enough to keep the pipes from freezing.

but this panic made me realize that I need help to get this cleaning taken care of. and yes it'll cost money, but I do have a decent income now. and with the new money coming in every month, I can make this happen. a few years ago, I had a cleaning company come around and dispose of a lot of cardboard and trash that I couldn't take out bc of my lung issues and occasionally my bad knee. they were really kind and fast. it costed a bit of money but it was well worth it. I'm going to call them to come around again. normally they work with hoarders and so they have to go through every item to see if the person wants to keep it or not. I'm not a hoarder though, so I bag everything up that needs to go out and then they take it out and bing-bang-boom, we're done. I'm like an anti-hoarder, I know what I want to keep and toss, I just don't have a body that lets me do that easily anymore.

as I said, I have no indications that the rental company would evict me for the messiness. but my internal shame about it is so high, and my past landlord trauma, that these facts are not registering very well. if they do ping me, I think I should have some amount of time to make it better. like a week would be enough, I think? and I can ask for accommodations for my disability in the form of the time I need to get cleaners to come help. or, worse comes to worse, I make enough money now that I can just get a different apartment and call movers. I don't have a backup apartment ready, but I think it would be possible. probably very expensive right now, but what can I do about that. but I hope it won't come to that. we'll see. hopefully the hvac guy won't care that much. and if the landlord does get mad, its not like I'm damaging anything that's a permanent fixture, its all *my* stuff that's gross, so like, whatever.

so yeah, its basically all of my fears all at once and I'm trying not to panic, but its not working very well. the cleaning tasks I want to do before the hvac guy gets here should take less than an hour, so it won't be that bad. and then I can focus on work. bc that's what pays the bills.

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[kenmei]

-ˏˋ EVERYTHING BUT! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader x boyfriend!sakusa kiyoomi

cw: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, slice of life, a pinch? of toxic behaviour, kinda suggestive somewhere in the middle, timeskip!au, established relationship!au

synopsis: in the times where home doesn’t feel like how it should, somewhere along the blurred lines of forgiven and guilty, “i’m home” gains back its familiarity

wc: 1900+

notes from mei!

happy bday to omi omi!!

it’s routine.

“i’m home.”

words that are familiar leave his lips; an expected response lingers in the air—it’s routine. the problem is, he’s only met with silence and an unusually cold apartment complex.

there are leftovers on the island; down the hallway leading to yours and his shared room, the lights are off. kiyoomi sighs, shrugging off his coat and not bothering to keep the sound of his dangling keys to a minimum.

and for the fifth time that week, he eats dinner alone.

the next morning proceeds as usual. quiet good mornings, a kiss to the cheek that feels robotic. he makes the food and you make the coffee; working in tandem as the news fills the silence between you both.

“i’m going out today.” you say, spoon clanking against the mugs as you’re pouring in the creamer. “hairi’s birthday.” you add.

he doesn’t turn to face you. “okay.”

you both eat in silence, not bothering to make small talk because the last time you tried, it ended up in a fight that brings you to your situation right now.

the night after, you both “made up,” but after a day and a half passed, he snapped at you more harshly than usual, giving you the silent treatment and coming home extra late just to get on your nerves.

tired of being a verbal punching bag, you reverted back into the person you promised you wouldn’t be again, because you wanted to be better—because you trusted in him enough that he wouldn’t make you feel that kind of pain again.

but now you’re here.

the words scratch at your throat as you open the front door. it’s dark, but you hear the shower running.

you’re not sure why you suddenly feel so anxious, but then again, you dreaded the entire uber ride “home.”

because as much as you love kiyoomi, he’s dragged you to hell and back for the past week and a half. as much as you’re willing to put up with his bullshit because you know he’s just like that, you’re not sure if this relationship is even worth it anymore.

it’s because you know his bad sides, good sides, everything-in-between-sides, you can’t find it in you to say something other than a half-assed sorry because you don’t want to drag things out.

you don’t want to lose him because he’s still your kiyoomi. 

he’s the boy who shared his umbrella with you in high school, the boy who threw his jacket on your head because you never listened to him when he said it’s cold out, wear a jacket.

the man who makes you play with his hair; the one who likes to be babied from time to time. don’t leave, he used to say, arms trapping you to his chest as you both wasted an hour in each other’s embrace.

in every season, all your favourite memories involve him.

and you’re being honest when you say you don’t want anything else—anyone else, but him. he’s a part of you now, and after him, you never thought of life without him.

but as you sit on the couch, head hung low, you think, perhaps, life would be better.

you fell in love rather young, at seventeen where love was like sunshine and rainbows. seventeen, where you didn’t know any other romantic kind of love besides him.

but now you’re twenty-three, where love feels more or less of a shitty scripted tv show. twenty-three, where you know there are many different kinds of love besides romantic.

“what are you doing?”

like you’ve been programmed, you stand. “sorry. i was waiting for you to finish.”

you brisk by him, blindly picking some clothes to use for pyjamas.

and he lets you, waiting for you to finish.

as you’re settling into bed, his lips find yours in a teeth-clashing, empty manner. naturally, you return, unaware of the void in your eyes as you humour him.

hands find their way underneath your shirt and you tense up.

he pulls away. “what’s wrong with you?”

“what do you mean?” you reply, pushing him off you. “...i’m kissing you back? why are you complaining?”

“you’re so bland lately.” he scowls, “you never say anything besides sorry! it’s like i’m dating a fucking statue!”

with the remnants of liquid courage swishing in your bloodstream, you snap, “what the fuck am i supposed to say besides sorry?!” you say, keeping a level-tone as you look at him in disbelief, anger bubbling in your veins. “you’re always mad at me and i’ve done nothing! you keep taking your bad days out on me!”

“that’s because you never do anything right!”

your mouth falls open in bewilderment. getting out of bed, you grab your phone. “fuck you.” you spit, “go find someone else. i’m not dealing with you anymore.”

a shout of your name, the sound of something falling to the floor.

the click of the front door doesn’t let you hear anything else.

kiyoomi<3: please come home

kiyoomi<3: where are you?

kiyoomi<3: talk to me baby please

“no.” you scoff, powering off your phone. you throw it to the other end of your hotel bed, grabbing your laptop.

two days.

(you wish it wasn’t like this).

glancing at the time, you think now would be a good time to go back to the apartment. he’s at practice and you need to start getting your shit out of his place.

your phone beeps a few more times and you wonder why he’s texting so much when he’s at practice. but then again, desperateness isn’t something to take lightly.

and you want to laugh at him, because now, when you’ve left, he’s texting you nonstop, leaving you a shit ton of voicemails you don’t even bother listening to.

your chest hurts, you’re sure everyone and their mother’s can tell you’re literally lifeless as you drag yourself to your car.

the drive is quiet and full of an empty head. you might’ve accidently ran one or two red lights, but you can’t find it in you to care.

jiggling your keys, you swing the door open, expecting to be met with emptiness.

but he’s there, on the couch with his head hung low, phone in his hands.

it looks like he’s pleading to the phone. you take note of his disheveled appearance and apartment. his head shoots up when he hears keys jingle, eyes widening before his eyes gloss over when he takes in your somewhat put together appearance.

you move to close the door, to leave him in there, but his voice stops you from shutting the door all the way.

“wait!”

it’s desperate and broken, you mentally smack yourself in the head for opening the door again. he relaxes a bit when he sees you again, mouth opening before it shuts abruptly.

he doesn’t know what to say.

and before he can get his head to work right, you turn left and go down the hallway, shoes on and all.

he follows, silently, watching in pain as you grab your duffle bag and start stuffing clothes in it.

he follows, chest pinching and palms sweating as you move around the room, shoving whatever you can into your bag.

you don’t even know why he’s here. he never misses practice.

“please.”

your back is facing him as the words, quiet and heavy, leave his lips. you choose to ignore him, rummaging through your bedside drawer in case there’s anything you might need.

a call of your name.

“stop.” you mutter, scratching your eyebrow in irritation. “we’re not doing this again.”

your lip trembles, you take a deep breath to try and stop the tears from falling.

it hurts to see him like this. your chest aches when you see the bags under his eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. “we’re not doing this again.” you repeat, an attempt to solidify yourself, but instead, you’re sobbing quietly into your bedside drawer, a polaroid of you and him staring back at you.

“i can’t do this.” you cry, recalling his hurtful words.

frantically wiping your tears, you reach into the desk to flip the picture backward.

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he says, voice wavering.

it’s only been two days, but he feels like he’s been through a century. he thought he’d be fine, that you’d come back.

but after having his texts being left on delivered and his calls going straight to voicemail, the buildup of everything and the reality of everything punched him in the gut.

a home that was once full of love. a home that was once so easy to come home to.

it’s scary how fast everything went tumbling down.

and kiyoomi’s more than aware of how selfish he is. coming home to everything being in it’s exact place isn’t all that odd, he just loathes coming home to everything being in it’s exact place, but you’re not there.

your candle you love so much stares at him. pictures hung of you and him mock him.

everything in this apartment, it was there. everything but you.

and it drove him crazy.

you, the only one he’s ever felt so strongly for. you, the one who makes home feel like home.

but as he stares at your back, tears of his own getting caught in his lashes, he hates that he makes this “home” of yours and his, feel unfamiliar.

and kiyoomi isn’t good, he knows he isn’t. he’s selfish and he likes things done his way because he likes things done right.

but he doesn’t know how to make this right. he loves you so much, but all he can do now is watch as you suffer.

he knows his problem, he knows his shortcomings, his faults—kiyoomi’s had too much time to be fucked up by it all. but the only thing he doesn’t know how to do right, is to fix the problems before his eyes.

a second passes and he finds his body moving before he can think.

he pulls you into his chest, uncaring of your fists pounding against his chest. he holds you tighter because this could be the last time.

and kiyoomi wishes he could do it all over—to go back in time and be the person he promised himself he’d be for you, his supposed forever.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers into your hair. “i know you’re tired, but please let me apologize to you, i don’t want you to walk out that door thinking the things i’ve said to you are true. they aren’t, i swear.”

his arms tighten around you when you stop fighting against his embrace. “all those things i’ve said and done that hurt you, i didn’t mean.”

“i know that, kiyoomi.” you cry, “but i can’t do this anymore.”

“don’t say that.” he pleads, “please, y/n, let me try again.”

and you’re crying because it’s so raw and real. his voice is so gentle and his embrace feels so soothing.

this is all you want. to be in his arms and be held together by him.

he gets his response when your arms circle around his middle, when you bury your face into him and grant his wishes of letting him fix the mess he made of you and him.

“thank you.” he whispers, a choked sob breaking free and he pulls your impossibly closer.

it’s half-past two and everything is where it’s meant to be.

(i'm home).

[the-kingshound]

The third Arch Deleted Scene

The snippet here is a bit rushed at the beginning and in some other parts, as I did not want to go into even more spoiler territory. If you want to send me asks about this please be sure to advertise them as spoiler at the beginning, since not everyone will want to read them.

SPOILER

TW: blood, injury, poisoning, strong language.

3rd Arch – the seventh Trial

 Your stomach was knotted by dark swirling anxiety from the moment Arthur announced the diplomatic visit. You were familiar with the House, it kept being, after all, one of the most influent beside yours before and after the Emperor’s fall. This did not mean anything, though. Your homeland was beautiful but deadly, ready to swallow anyone whole to quickly digest them.

You promised yourself you were going to be at Arthur’s side at all times, and that’s precisely what you are doing now.

 Four days in, and the only major threat has been the amount of people wanting to interact with you. For the most part, Arthur smoothly deflects them to himself, for which you are endlessly grateful. You’re not in the mood to socialize, instead you keep on high alert, especially against the House leader and formal Ambassador.

You do not think he will pull anything while you’re here, after all you grew up together and you respected each other deeply, but one cannot be too cautious when the King is concerned – as demonstrated by the multiple scars that litter your body. You would go through all of it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping your King safe, but all you can do for now is stay by his side and keep the risks at minimum.

For this reason, when the Ambassador proposes a meal together with both yours and his knights, you are instantly weary.

“I don’t like this one bit, Arthur.”

“Me neither,” agrees Evaine, all the while lazily making their dagger spin on the table.

“I don’t deny that is not an ideal situation. On the other hand, a wrong move on their part would jeopardise their own negotiation,” counters Arthur as Morien finally snaps, blocking Evaine’s wrist with a tight grip and hissing an irritated “stop fooling around, for God’s sake!”

Evaine pouts. Yniol ignores them in favour of the matter at hand “they are certainly going to outnumber us, but if they wanted to attack us head on they would have done so before now, there were better opportunities. MC?”

You really think it through before answering “I wouldn’t put it past the Ambassador to try something, direct or more subtle, while we’re so exposed and out of our physician. Lania is not the head of his House for nothing, but aside from that he was always particularly attached to the Empire. We can’t afford to underestimate him.”

“Yes, yes” interjects Morien, having by now freed Evaine’s hand and left the table, dismissing themselves from the meeting “I’ll be prepared in any case. I swear you manage to hurt yourselves everywhere we go.”

And so dinner begins. It is a boring affair, but you won’t let yourself relax until it’s over. You sip on your wine, closely inspecting the hosts for any sudden or unusual movement. You find none, but you stiffen and your brows furrows. There’s something strange in your mouth, something strangely… bitter.

Time seems to freeze in front of your eyes. With an uncoordinated, panicked movement you jerk on the table and bat away Arthur’s cup, spilling its content on the table.

You place your hand on the table to support you as you rise, your dilatated pupils numbly fixed on the red liquid that’s quickly staining the tablecloth. It feels like an hour but actually only a second has passed before you regain your senses.

“Seize them.”

Arthur and his Knights are no longer seated by now, but the Ambassador’s men have drawn their weapons as well and pointed them to your delegacy, effectively halting their movements. You see icy red and do not spare another glance at the man now placed on your back while you snarl in the envoy direction.

Placing your fingers on the hilt of your sword, you hiss an enchantment to track the magic residue and the culprit is revealed in front of your eyes. Ignoring the taste of iron on your tongue, you spit out another enchantment and the room’s door is locked close with a lout snap. They will not get away.

Unfortunately, you lack the ability to free Arthur and the Knights, you are now surrounded and painfully outnumbered, but you know they can hold on until you have taken care of the threat at hand. You cough blood and half crash on the floor, but you ignore the alarmed voices of your Knights and crawl in the Ambassador’s direction.

How dare he. How dare.

“My, Lord…”

“Let them,” a voice says to your back “they will not go far.”

“How dare you” your breaths are ragged, your intestines raw and burning, your voice rough for the acid that invades your throat. The Ambassador’s face is a mask of contempt and stony resolution. He watches, halting his men while they try to block you, as you half-crawl to him, gripping with iron strength the wooden chairs to keep yourself upright.

“I have the upper hand, King Arthur. I’m afraid you are in no position to make such demands.”

“Release us, and call a physician for my spouse, and I will consider letting this incident go without consequences.”

Arthur’s voice is steady, calm and there is only a hint of something sharper, at least for now.

You can’t see your King, but the sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine. They tried to kill him. The House you grew up to respect is full of nothing more than vile traitors.

As your strength start to waver, you lose your balance and crush to the ground with the chair you were pushing your weight on. Still, you get up again and you and fix your gaze on the second born, now Ambassador and traitor “I’ve had enough of you.”

You take a shuddering breath, your lungs filled with blood that’s now spilling over to your lips as you speak, but the pain you feel is nothing compared to the hot, blinding rage that’s consuming your every thought. Still, your voice is, as ever, cutting cold “you invite us here, offering a pacific discussion, and all you provide are poison in our drinks and weapons against my Knights and my King’s throat. You’ve exhausted my patience, Lania.”

You see him flinch at the use of his name. You remember a time long gone when you played together as kids, swearing you would be the ones to restore the Empire uniting your two Houses. Now these are broken promises and rotten friendships.

“MC,” the Ambassador says, “it’s over, you have to understand that.”

“Oh, you just wait,” interjects Evaine, almost immediately silenced by the Ambassador’s men.

You cough and choke on blood, and you can feel the physical weight of Arthur’s and the Knights’ worried eyes on your back, but you exhale and grip tighter your sword’s hilt. A wave of raw power invades your body and you are able to focus again.

“You know what I’m capable of, what I am willing to do for my King,” your voice is almost devoid of intonation, save for unforgiving hardness. His gaze falls on your non dominant arm and then on your throat, scarred by a thin horizontal line “I will gut you and feed you to my hounds. You’ll die like the backstabbing coward you are.”

They know as well as you do that you don’t make empty promises. There is a rustle around you that culminates in a sharp sigh from the Ambassador and swords pointed at your neck.

“Must we really do this, MC? I cared for you once, but you know that I will not hesitate to strike you down if you give me reason to do so.”

You don’t draw black nor move a single muscle, your eyes find Arthur’s blue ones and you find the King is dangerously immobile, his fingers brushing against Excalibur’s hilt in what could be mistaken for a soothing caress. When he speaks, his voice bears nothing else but firm command “you will not do that.”

Lania cocks his head to the side, appearing quite unbothered “oh?”

“How is your sister, Ambassador?”

At the same time as Lania stills, you blink. A violent cough than shakes your chest, and when your senses are fully back and you can breathe again Arthur has kept going with the same calm, calculated demeanor “I want to remind you that together with the Lord the wedded she’s now head of the Merthian feud, the nearer one to the south-eastern border.”

“What does it-“

“I am the one in control of the knights tasked with their protection. As per the arrangement we signed weeks ago, the border is under Camelot’s defence. But if I die, or if my spouse dies, my knights will retire, Ambassador.”

Oh, Arthur is not King for nothing. He is striking where it hurts the most – family – without even an drop of blood shed. You don’t hide a proud, feral smile at this. Almost immediately, blood invades your throat again, you can feel its taste on your togue, but you shove the pain back where it started in your burning stomach. You shiver. You love and hate seeing your King like this.

Lania swiftly unsheathe a long, curved dagger and you are immediately ready to bolt– swords to your throat be damned, you’ve had worse – but he makes no move in Arthur’s direction for now.

“Figured you had to hit low to get a reaction.”

“Release us,” Yniol commands, standing tall near the King.

“No” spits out Lania, his composure now fully broken “you stole our independence and our pride, Pendragon, you humiliated us and stripped our Houses of the opportunity to unite again. You are every bit of your father’s blood!”

He then turns to you, his eyes frantic, his expression pained and almost feral “I thought you were on my side!”

Blood rushes to your ears, a high-pitched whistle the only thing you’re able to hear at the moment. You feel sick. Sicker than before – sicker than what you’ve felt in years. You spit blood on the floor, your answer is weak and unnaturally subdued, “it was a- a long time ago.”

“We were like siblings!”

You can’t say anything, you only choke on your words. All that you manage to do is keep yourself upright only thanks to your sword.

“They are right, you really are your King’s hound, nothing more than Camelot’s bitch,” he tries the next word in his mouth like they were both foul and inevitable “the haghàn bajek*.”

Your vision is overcome by whit spots, your skin hot and freezing cold.

“Kill them all.”

You force yourself to focus. Protect your Knights. Protect your King.

After that it is pure, unbidden chaos. You tighten your grip on your sword, assessing where you’re needed the most. With the corner of your eye you spot Arthur, he’s a beautiful fighter, he is no match for – Lania.

Your magic flares alongside most of your nerve endings as you sprint in his direction, interjecting his blow with your own weapon. Unfortunately, the Ambassador is a skilled opponent and you’re already considerably weakened, all you can do is channel in your arms the strength of your steel determination to not let him reach your King.

“Stop trying to defend an enemy, MC!”

“Stop trying… to kill him.”

You are barely managing to defend yourself when Lania strikes back. You catch the dagger with your arm, it pierces through your skin just over your elbow but it won’t reach its intended target. No one will hurt your King while you’re still breathing. No one.

Pain paralyzes your arm, your breath is stuck in your throat together with a blood clot that feels intrusive and that fills you with panic. The finishing blow never comes, though. As you inhale again, you refocus on the room’s occupants and notice how Arthur’s Knights have the clear upper hand.

“Ah, and you thought you could beat the Round Table so easily,” Evaine all but purrs in a knight’s ear “that’s precious.”

“Stand down” Gawaine commands “you’re surrounded.”

You can hardly distinguish the shapes of your own knights, you’re nauseous, your stomach and throat are on fire. You fall down on your knees, exhausted and hurt. You feel like you’re going to throw up–

“MC’”

Where is Lania, where is –  

“Wh-where…?”

“Kai, get Morien here, please.”

Arthur’s voice is soothing, as ever, but tainted with worry. You can’t make his face out. There are arms supporting your weight, not his but equally familiar – Yniol?

“It’s going to be alright, dear.”

It’s the last thing you hear before the world goes black.

  *haghàn bajek = [REDACTED] traitor

[densley3]

Man i am freaking OUT.

Allow me to tell you all a story, about how not to get out of the military.

I got out of the Army in 2019 because i missed my kids and I was suicidal. I couldn't go on any longer.

I search for work to no avail, I'm either over or under qualified for every job, and I'm still depressed to the point of just wanting to die.

My ex wife takes my kids to Texas. (I was in NY).

Search for work, do some odd jobs, lose my apartment.

Then, COVID. No one is hiring.

I survive off unemployment for a bit. That runs out. After a year of struggle, (and a lot of bullshit) I end up moving to help my dad out of his financial rut. I work Door Dash with him to help things along.

My car breaks down. I get it fixed with the last of my saved funds.

My car breaks down two weeks later. couldn't fix it because no money, couldn't work because no car, couldn't pay for car, car gets repossessed. Then, like a miracle, some old Army buddies asked me to move in as a nanny/tutor.

After a year doing that in return for room & board (no pay other than the occasional gift) another dear friend buys me a ticket to visit them out of state. Obviously I okay this vacation with my friends/landlords before hand.

Naturally, i visit for a short two weeks. Midway through this vacation, they said they no longer needed my services. They suggested i stay out [where I am now] and said they'd send my stuff. Cool okay, I get it, all's well.

Then they decide they don't want to send me my stuff. Okay cool, I'll figure something out.

Then they say "hey you need to get your stuff out of our garage by December". Okay.. I'll figure something out I guess.

Thanks to the help of those dear friends I was visiting (i live with them now) I manage to get work as a security guard! It's enough to contribute to house bills and buy food/keep my phone on, but not much else.

Since my first paycheck, I've tried everything to get back there to get my stuff. I can't rent a car because my credit is shot (see being broke for over a year and getting my car repossessed), and i have no major credit card to put it on.

I can't get a loan for the same reason.

I started working, but it's not enough to pay for movers to move my stuff, and as mentioned before, I can't get a loan because my credit is screwed because i was unable to find paying work for almost 2 years.

So now it's November 4th, 2021. I have 3 weeks left to find a way to get all my stuff from the "freinds" house or it's all getting donated/thrown out.

This stuff include birth certificates, social security cards, all my military paperwork, my clothes, my uniform, and the only valuable items i managed to hang on to in two years of intermittent homelessness, and to top it off, some items my brother left with me for safe keeping when i thought i was going to be staying as a nanny/tutor for the foreseeable future.

My freinds who have taken me in as family are also unable to help, because they recently opened a food truck and pretty much maxed out all their credit to get it up and running (they're getting by, but not well enough to hire movers or rent a car for $700+).

I don't know what else to do. I don't have any other freinds to turn to, there's no organization that can help me that I know of. My family is either homeless, scraping by on minimum wage, or both.

I don't want to ask for money. Not because of pride, but because I don't want to burden countless people with my financial situation. And i don't particularly think I deserve the help, either, but I don't know what else to do.

All I've got is a cash app. I'll put it out there and hope someone with funds sees it.

https://cash.app/$KozekMew

I don't have much how for this to work, but i guess it's worth a shot. Thank you to anyone who can help me out, and anyone who can't buy boosts the signal.

[morganaspendragonss]

Can I ask for fingore square? As someone who broke their finger during the pandemic....can I request that with some hurt TK?

holly's august extravaganza day 28: ignoring every warning

thanks for the prompt brit! the fingore square had been requested by the time i saw this message but here's the fic anyway! hope you like it 😊

thanks to @silvarafael for the beta!

ao3 | 1.3k | minor injuries, hurt tk, big brother judd, mostly just tk being a dumbass

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he hurts.

He mostly just wants to put the shame of it all behind him. After all, it’s not like the entire firehouse saw him get so distracted talking to Carlos on the phone that he slammed the ambulance doors shut on his hand—

Oh, wait.

It had been weeks of teasing and jokes that TK wasn’t sure were all good-natured. Even Carlos, the traitor, had joined in once or twice (or three, or four, or five times…), and it was only Carlos’s frustratingly effective cow eyes and TK’s own displeasure at the thought of sleeping alone that had kept him from the couch.

Technically, the doctor had said that he should stick to light duty and keep the hand brace on for another few weeks, which he kinda, sorta isn’t doing.

But he’s fine.

He makes a point of saying so to Nancy when she sends him the third exasperated look of the day—and they’re only two hours into shift.

“Whatever you say, dude,” she replies drily. “Just don’t come crying when you re-break that hand because you’re a dumbass who won’t admit when he’s in pain.”

The slight smirk on her lips is enough for TK to gather that she’s referring to the first time he broke it, and...maybe she has a point.

(“I’m okay, I just need to shake it out for a minute.”

“TK, none of your fingers look the way they should. I bet you anything you can’t even move that hand right now, but, by all means, go ahead and shake it.”)

(He did. It did not go well.)

“I’m fine,” he repeats, scowling, which gets him a totally unwarranted head shake and eye roll. Well… Whatever. Nancy can think what she wants; TK is going to finish his shift and he’s going to manage it perfectly well, thanks very much.

And he does. Admittedly, his hand is aching more than it probably should be, but he just needs to rest it when he gets home, which—ah.

Problem #1: He and Carlos still haven’t finished setting up the new house.

Problem #2: Today is their only joint night off for the rest of the week, which leads to,

Problem #3: They’d agreed to spend the night sorting some furniture and unpacking a few important boxes.

Logically, TK knows he should tell Carlos that he doesn’t feel up to doing any heavy lifting tonight. He’d understand, there’s no question of that; Carlos would likely spend the entire night fussing instead, probably mixed with a bit of loving exasperation at TK for having pushed himself too much. But he doesn’t want to let him down, not again. Not after the months spent fighting with the insurance companies and struggling to find a house, and especially not after Carlos had supported TK while the firehouse was closed down.

He flexes his hand experimentally. It’s a little stiff and the soreness brings a grimace to his face, but it works.

He’s got this.

*

TK is, maybe, just a little less than fine.

Like, 85% fine. 70% absolute minimum.

But it’s okay, because now he has a day off to ice his hands without Carlos hovering like a mother hen. Normally, he’d hate the idea of spending the day without his boyfriend, but the less Carlos knows about this situation, the better for both of them.

The ice helps, and the dull throbbing that’s become his normal for the past couple of days almost disappears. TK knows he shouldn’t push it, but his need to be busy always wins over training and common sense, so.

So.

*

The next shift is a little easier, and TK figures he’s probably healed enough to head to the gym for a while. Get his strength back up, and all that.

He’s very, very wrong.

Ten minutes in, and TK hits the punching bag in a way that elicits a crack from his knuckles that not even he can write it off as fine. His hand hurts and his fingers are starting to look horribly swollen, and shit, Carlos is going to fucking kill him later.

Maybe…

Maybe he can fix this. He’s a paramedic; he can strap up his own fingers. Sure, it’s his left hand that’s injured, but he can handle it. He just needs to get out of the gym, through the firehouse, loot the ambulance, and bandage himself up without running into anyone who will ask questions.

Simple.

Except, because the universe hates him, TK quite literally runs into Judd on his way out of the gym. The knock sends an unpleasant jolt through his injured hand, and TK doesn’t manage to contain his wince in time to hide it.

Judd doesn’t even bother asking what happened; he simply sighs heavily and gets out his phone, tapping away at the screen.

TK cranes his neck to try and see what he’s doing, but Judd holds his phone close to his chest, blocking his view. “What are you doing?”

“You obviously got your dumb ass in a mess again so I’m texting your boy to come get you.” Judd shoots him an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes at TK’s horrified stare. “What, you’d rather he find out about this later or something?”

“No, it’s just—I was gonna tell him!”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, so TK doesn’t bother trying to defend himself. He huffs and folds his good arm across his chest, scowling at Judd.

“You can stop looking like that,” Judd remarks, gaze fixed back on his phone as it pings with a new message. “Carlos is on his way.”

“I hate you.”

“Shockingly, I can live with that.” He pockets his phone and takes TK’s shoulder, almost pushing him down the stairs. “Come on, kid. Let’s get some ice on that.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” TK says, though he knows Judd isn’t going to let him out of his sight until Carlos arrives.

“Yeah, that broken hand says otherwise.”

There’s a barely contained laugh in Judd’s voice, and TK has the sudden urge to punch his smirk away. Which would only really prove the point, so he has to resort to glaring at his back and ignoring the warmth at the thought of Judd taking care of him like the brother TK never had.

When Carlos shows up ten minutes later, the concern in his eyes betrays the deep exasperation painted all over his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” TK protests anyway. “It’s not like I asked for this to happen.”

Judd snorts—rude—and Carlos grins over at him, sharing a head shake—even ruder—and TK lets out what even he can admit is a pathetic whine.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Carlos says, not sounding sorry in the least, “but you have literally ignored every single recommendation from the doctor. The only thing you haven’t done is actually ask for it.”

“They’re recommendations, Carlos.”

“And you’re a paramedic, so you should know that ‘recommendation’ is a kind way of saying ‘order’.”

For the second time, TK has no defense. He huffs and looks down at his shoes, hoping that he paints a miserable enough picture to get his boyfriend to take at least some pity on him.

Somehow, it works, as Carlos takes him in a careful side hug. “Sorry,” he repeats, more earnest this time. “Let’s get you to the ER, huh?”

TK nods reluctantly, allowing Carlos to steer him out of the firehouse. “Can’t believe I’m going to have to take even more time off,” he grumbles.

“Well, think about it this way.” Carlos rubs his arm in a soothing gesture, though his next words are anything but. “At least you’ll have more time to finish up with the house.”

TK groans. His day did not need to get any more painful.

[rhythmic-idealist]

This post is a little outdated and very bulky, I’ll be fixing it soon!

Please read the February 26th update on the GoFundMe. Thank you all. 

-------------

Hey all. Usually you see me boosting others’ fundraisers; now it’s come time to make one of my own.

This is for my dear friend O. He’s been my friend for five years—he’s seen me through some of the ugliest public OCD moments of my life, and watched the stars with me at two in the morning, and made sure my 21st birthday was done right. 

O’s workplace closed for two weeks due to the pandemic. Then he tested positive for the coronavirus, and he had to stay home for another three.

---

That was in July 2020. I began this fundraiser campaign when he reached out to me two months later, in September, and it’s stalled out at $580, but it’s kept the lights on.

The short version is that O lost five weeks of work due to contracting COVID-19. His landlord has adjusted expectations, but a minimum of 1/4 of July and August’s back-due rent is due by March. This fundraiser is to keep O in his apartment after, despite his every precaution, someone got him sick at the job he needs to work to survive.

We need to raise $3,170 by March or we fear O will lose the roof over his head. The total we need to raise, even if it takes longer than March, is $7,750.

Here’s the link to his GoFundMe. Or, read on below, for a longer explanation of the story. [The old version of this post is available here.]

More Story:

March O began preparing for disaster. But you can’t save money when every cough or sniffle—and rightfully so!—gets you sent home from work, and you aren’t paid for the hours you aren’t working.

April-May 2020 The rent moratorium meant that he didn’t need to pay April and May’s rent, which was a small comfort (and enormous relief), and he kept working.

June 2020 O had enough to pay rent again, which he did.

And then there was a COVID-19 exposure at O’s workplace, which announced it would close for the recommended two weeks. These two weeks were not paid leave.

July-August 2020 On July 5th, O had a mild fever and lost his sense of taste, and took immediate action. His COVID test came back positive. He informed his employer at once, who instructed him to stay home for 3 weeks without pay.

Another two days of income were lost to a pulled nerve.

In July and August, O was unable to pay rent. That rent is the amount that we are fundraising for - about $6,000 total. His landlord will eventually demand that full amount, which is why we are working so hard to raise it.

September 2020

We started the GoFundMe. It’s been slow going, but we can barely scrape through with enough for March. We need help, though.

October 2020 O’s landlord agreed to accept a quarter of the rent that’s due by March. More on that situation in this update. Minimum needed by March to stay housed: $3,170 USD.

It became clear that O would need help keeping up with DWP bills as he plays catch-up on everything else. Rent is not his only outstanding bill, and this fundraiser only exists to cover costs he can’t cover while working full time. More on that situation in this update.

February 2021:

There’s a new update which I’ll link here soon, but we need to raise an additional $3,000 by the end of March. Thank you.

Logistics:

The rent that is due is about $6,000, and his DWP bill is coming up on $500. GoFundMe charges a payment processing fee of 2.9% plus $0.30 per donation, so to account for that fee, I’ve adjusted that number to $6900 USD.

DWP bills are about $200 a month. Adding GoFundMe's payment processing fees, that becomes an estimated $211.80 per month. The current goal accounts for four months of DWP bills, or $6900 + $847.20.

If the fundraiser is not finished in March, that number will update again to reflect DWP bills for the coming months.

Overdue rent + DWP bills for now = $7,750 USD total

Thank you so much for supporting. Please share, if you can.

GoFundMe total: $3,830 Funds donated through Ko-Fi: $375. If you give via Ko-Fi, please add a note such as “For O” or “Keep O Housed.” My Ko-Fi is no longer exclusive to this fundraiser.

Amount raised: 4,195/7,750 USD | Date updated: 3/06/2021

[perfectlymassivetimetravel--blog]

You know the real bummer about working as a server/delivery driver in my current state is not only the minimum wage, but the fact that there isn't really anything I can go about it because all the corporations out here are franchises that are privately own. Like I get the whole spreading the word to people, because that's how they take advantage of there workers, but damn. The min here is 7.25, I get 2.50 plus tips if they decide to tip at all, and they are supposed to make up for tips as well to make sure my pay is 'fair', now my manager get paid 14/hr. And for sure fucking hates his job, but the issue is that we don't make enough money to get out. If you want to start a bank account you have to have at 59-500$ depending on the bank, in top of maintenance fees, that is the the way of them taking your money to give to other people.

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

The average person in this town has two jobs, plus a third side hustle and this down has gone down right fucking backwards. It is a retirement town, it's full of cops and military, it's full of old white people, and I think I see 3/20 wearing a mask. Half of them don't believe in COVID, because they either had "a very mild case" like the flu, probably cause it was the actual flu. Someone tried to tell me there is a difference between cops and pigs, but really there isn't. They are all people who signed up to be used and abused and then armed with weapons to use as they deem fit for any given situation, it like a matter of all things is whether or not they get caught, or how their mood strikes. There are no landlords here because everyone wants a quick buck, the person who supposably helped us we ended up giving the 16 hundred, then said that she was going to tow my car, because of the windshield. Now she going and making appointments with out consulting us, and then has the nerve to say that she's going to buy our food stamps from us, to help pay for the windshield. Taking our source of food, is not helping us, doing backwards appointments is not helping us, you wanna pro Bono fix my car fine, but don't act like what you're doing is a service. We have to pay 800/m in rent every first of the month, if not then it's an eviction notice, we had to pay 200 dollars for background checks, and it took them a month to get us in a already empty apartment. 800 for a two bedroom apartment, that I can't even keep my car in, because... Why?

I listened to someone justify throwing around the R-word, and they can't tell Hispanic/Latino peeps apart, to them everyone is Mexican, but the majority of them are Puerto Rican despite being as close as we are to Mexico not everyone who speaks Spanish is Mexican. They literally have flags on their phones, wallets, key chains, and such that small nugget of pride from where they came from and the vivid amount of disrespect is what makes me want to fight people. Also I have notice a difference in the light-skinned individuals who run with imposter syndrome, and carry themselves with white privilege, which ok, but you're not going to come at me out the side if your neck. You're curls maybe loose, but that doesn't mean your brain fell out of them. Like it really feels like the 18-1900's story you read about the "pretty" individuals who just lost their shit when they started dating white people.

So that's my rant if the week,