#my point isnt to say all discomfort with emotion is a bad thing

[bottom-slut-unionizer]

I think "you are also that which others do not see" is a very important motto to have in the age of social media n people being able to advertise the best aspects of themselves while hiding the worst.

Just cuz others see the good doesn't make up for the bad parts. That's just pure vanity at that point. But at the same time, the things you keep for yourself, the joys you alone get to experience, those too are part of you.

Everyone has a thousand things to love within them and ten thousand things to hate that never sees the light of say. Why would we rather live acting like the moment something bad is visible it ruins everything else? Can't we live knowing that we're all a bunch of animals trying to survive, and the fact that we can find something to love at all is truly amazing?

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

im telling you guys, yall are NOT gonna like my opinion on the incest in this show as a victim of incest

honestly i was just gonna leave it at that but im gonna put it all under the cut so i can nuke it if this gets out of hand. obvious tw for incest but real actual incest and csa

so ive been a victim of incest. what happened was my cousin, who was my age, got me to play a "game" where we were just humping each other. i was uncomfortable because it was surrounding something i didn't know about* and knew i shouldn't know about, and i didn't want to get in trouble when we got caught. so i squealed, they talked to him, and it stopped. he asked me to play once after, i said no, we did something else

(*i was a sheltered kid, and he was already on the internet. i was 8-9)

but that's not when i was a victim of incest.

what really happened was my mother had a strange fixation on my ass when i was prepubescent. and when i started going through puberty and developing, she'd slap it as i was walking by, no matter how many times i voiced my discomfort. she also showered with me past the appropriate age and once touched my vagina under the guise of "cleaning" it, and as i grew up would have an uncomfortable fixation with my affection, and there was an incident where shed plant long, sloppy kisses on me and smell me, like take a huge fucking whiff. and she even admitted she had a fake version of me in her head that she talked to. it was emotional incest with a side order of real incest

and my opinion?

shut the fuck up about the incest jesus christ.

i remember when i saw this therapist. my mom was isolating me away from my entire support system and i was spiraling hard. i told him everything and he concluded i had PTSD

but not from my abusive mother.

from my cousin.

the insistence that the incest was the worst thing that could've possibly happened to me infuriated me back then, and it infuriates me now.

the uncomfortable experience with my cousin paled in comparison to the repeated, rampant abuse i suffered at the hands of my mother. not even the incest shit, the other stuff.

but the insistence that incest is the Be All End All of bad harmed me. it prevented me from getting the help i needed- once i revealed that experience, it was all that therapist focused on. not my mother. not the damage she was currently doing to me. a weird encounter with my cousin.

which brings me here.

the whole.... point of this show is to reveal the seedy underbelly of society. how immoral it all is, the things normal people would shy away from and be disgusted by. and the incest is just.... one of those things. it's not portrayed as good, nothing in this show is! but yall treat "not explictly treated as the worst thing possible" as "glorifying and fetishizing" and its getting on my goddamn nerves

and before yall say "yeah but there's just some things that are too far!" by whose metric? yours?

another person who watches the show could say that izaya's kidnapping of suicidal girls is "too far." another could even say that a man having dyed hair is "too far." someone else could say that the high-school characters being in gangs is "too far." why should everyone follow your metric of what "too far" is? why are you the main arbiter of good and evil in fiction?

and i'm not saying you have to like the incest. it does cross a line for a lot of people, including other victims of incest. i get it.

but its mere presence isnt suddenly worlds worse than everything else in this show, and it certainly isn't something that needs to be fixed. sorry ur girlboss gaslight slayqueen fave is an incestuous pedophile but that's just the canon of the show and it fits with the theme of the show. you just want it to be fixed because you can't bring yourself to like her with this information, you have to moralize everyfuckingthing you do, including liking a character, because liking a character means you agree with everything she does??

again its FINE if people want to make fan content of her without the incest in it, blah blah et cetera I GET IT, but acting like its some sort of moral failing on narita's part for even including it in the first place is kind of selfish and misses the point of the . whole series

[tigerdrop]

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so  hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog.  he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

crushing companions reacting to f!sole being caught under the mistletoe by someone who ISNT him?

omg, that’s so funny to think about. some are longer than others so i hope you don’t mind (also i got a little carried away). please enjoy! ❤️

i feel like i moved away from the topic but yknow.. ☠️

christmas/new years reacts are still open!

-

somehow, he was dragged into this and had no choice but to attend upon soles request, not being able to say no due to his obvious crush on her. now he was here, mindlessly listening to the chattering of the person who accompanied him during the party, being absolutely bored out of his mind despite the liveliness of the party. as the person continued on, words not being absorbed, his eyes scanned the area for sole, wanting to at least see her once during the whole event and hopefully strike a conversation before it ended.

he expected to see everything; her chatting with some people, maybe putting out some food, or playing with the kids, but what he didn’t expect was to find her under the mistletoe with someone else. someone that wasn’t him.

Danse:

his world stopped for a mere second, all his surroundings becoming blurred as he focused on the scene the raveled before him, unknowingly holding his breath while he did so. his mind slowly processed what was happening and once it completely settled in, a wave of genuine irritation and jealousy began to crash over him. danse being danse, he tries to keep his emotions under control as best as he can. on one hand, sole has the freedom to do anything and everything with anyone she pleases with... and on the other? he wants to pull her into his arms for him and him only.

as the person leans in for a kiss, he leaves no room for debate as he unconsciously rushes his way there, unable to cope with the idea of his precious crush sharing such contact with someone else. sole would yelp in shock as she was pulled away from the person without explanation. he ignored sole’s questions as he dragged her to a quiet corner, not thinking straight.

his eyes stayed on the individual, glaring at them silently with a displeased look as if sole wasn’t staring up at him with the most confused expression. the protective hold on her wrist never detached, the grip still as tight as when he first grabbed it.

she coughed to get his attention and his gaze immediately fell on her, forgetting that he had dragged her without a reason. he would be struck with horror, his heart stopping at the realization that he had done so without registering it. “so, uh. mind explaining what that was for?”

his face would go completely red, his mouth opening to respond, but much to his dismay, nothing came out. the words became tangled in his throat as he tried to come up with anything to cover him from the truth but eventually came to the conclusion that there was no way he could save himself at this point. swallowing nervously, he slowly slid the hand that grabbed her wrist to enevelope hers and with a flushed expression, he knew he had a lot of explaining to do. no better time to do it than christmas day, right?

Deacon:

if someone were to ask deacon why he was so afraid to fall in love again, this would be the exact reason why. he didn’t like the familiar feeling that began pooling in his stomach and the unwanted envy and insecurities that began to surface. instead of showing his discomfort, he smiled through it all and excused himself from the conversation, quickly sneaking up on them. he didn’t have a plan, but he knows damn well that he could at least make one.

before the person could lean in for a kiss, he’d pop out of no where, cutting the individual off even before they had the chance. with a “panicked” expression, he’d grab sole by the shoulder before she could let a word out, ignoring the confusion on her face. “charmer! i just came here to say...” he stopped for a moment, giving her the longest stare as the awkward silence began to build up, “..that you look great today, partner!”

she would send him a look of disbelief. “seriously, deeks? all that just to say i look good?”

“someone’s sounding a little ungrateful during the holiday season, tsk. a thank you would be nice.” he shook his head disapprovingly, both ignoring the individual that watched them dumbly, unsure of what to say. he then pointed to the door behind him while keeping a disappointed expression, “also, dogmeats totally destroying your vault suit.”

“he’s WHAT?!” sole nearly yelled, covering her moth instantly as she received stares left and right. with a paled expression, she’d laugh nervously and run towards the other way, excusing herself in a hurry. “sorry, gotta go!”

deacon would smile and pat himself on the back at the accomplishment of his mission. the person would be left dumbfounded at what just happened. “uhhh..”

with a smirk, he’d turn over to the individual and look up back at the mistletoe that hung above them. “so you gonna kiss me or what loverboy? these lips can’t wait forever.” and just like that, the person immediately shook their head and left the area with an embarrassed expression. he scoffed as he watched them drag away to another area of the party. that’ll teach them not to mess with him.

now he just needed to find another lie to tell sole when she realizes that dogmeat wasn’t at all destroying her vault suit but was instead sleeping by the fire.

Maccready:

maccready is many things; petulant, angry, and absolutely jealous to his core and does not bother to hide it. he disregards the person he’s talking to, immediately stomping off towards soles direction without a word spared to the individual that accompanied him. sole would hear the loud footsteps behind her and would turn around upon hearing the noise, seeing a red faced maccready making his way to them with the biggest scowl ever. the person would raise a brow, absolutely bewildered at macs behavior as they stepped forward in attempt to shield sole.

“hey man, you good-“

“take a hike, buddy.” mac shot back through gritted teeth, his tone full of venom. the persons confused and concerned expression would soon turn into a surprised one, full of disbelief at the words that left the mercenary’s mouth. before they could respond with just as much attitude, sole would stop the situation from escalating, a sweet tone in her voice.

“okay, okay. take it easy.” she cut in between the two heated individuals and slipped her hand in macs own, instantly earning a surprised and flustered from him. she looked at the person with a apologetic smile, “i’m sorry, please give us a moment.”

and just like that, she’d pull him to a more private area of the party, folding her arms with a demanding expression.

“what the hell was that?”

mac would try to pretend as if he was irritated, whining quietly but loud enough for her to hear. he’d throw his arms in the air dramatically in response, letting his emotions take over the best of him. “they were gonna kiss you!” then he began to panic more, realizing the position he dreadfully put himself in with little to no ways to take him out. “i mean- uh- they were gonna- i was-“

“so what if they were gonna kiss me?” she raised a brow, a small smirk forming on her face as she pieced together what was happening. “what then?”

“i- i-“ he began stammering, unable to find excuses this time around. he mentally beat himself up, instantly regretting the fact that he allowed his emotions to take control of the situation instead of his mind. ultimately, he gave up as soles eyes bored into him, his voice dying down into a quiet whisper. “i-i don’t know.”

sole would let out a laugh, entertained by his reaction, leaving mac a blushing and embarrassed mess as he looked towards the other direction, hands stuffed in his pockets. “don’t laugh at me.” he murmured, face growing more red.

she would immediately stop upon request but the smile on her face never left as she stepped forward, placing a hand on his bicep. “if you were trying to let me know you liked me, you got the message across.” mac grew rigid at the words that left her mouth but made no attempt to deny them, knowing the truth of it , “and just to give you a straight up answer..” she tiptoed and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, his eyes widening upon contact. he felt himself freeze at the softness of her lips.

“i like you too.” she whispered against his flushed skin and he nearly fainted from the intensity of the situation. what a way to celebrate christmas.

Hancock:

everyone knows hancock has it absolutely bad for sole, so for someone to approach her in such a brave manner secretly ticked him off. he saw the stupid ass smile that plastered that persons face and he wanted nothing more but to slap it off them. he’d look at the person accompanying him, holding a finger up to shush them for a moment with force, “hold that thought, sister/brother. got something i need to take care of.” and he’d immediately make his way to them, not wasting a precious second.

“sunshine!” he’d call out to sole with open arms and a smug smile, immediately attracting her attention away from the individual who wore an irritated expression upon seeing hancock. her face lit up with happiness, a grin stretching across her cheeks. “hey hancock!”

hancock would throw an arm over soles shoulders, gazing lovingly at them as she giggled. “looking beautiful as always, i see.” he chuckled at the redness forming on her cheeks. “so how’s my favorite girl doing?”

they’d continue on their conversation as if the other person wasn’t currently in their presence, wanting to continue where they left off. the endless compliments and inside jokes made them uncomfortable, unsure of what to do or say at the moment. “um hello?”

sole would smile sympathetically upon seeing the irritated expression on the persons face. “oh, sorry. got a little distracted.” hancock would cut in with a smirk, feeding off the persons reactions. “sorry brother/sister, we’re busy.” he pointed at the mistletoe above them, going straight to the point and sole let out a surprised, “huh?” with a flushed face. “now scram before i make you do it.”

the person cursed under their breath and stomped off elsewhere, leaving hancock satisfied and accomplished. sole would shyly look up at him. “so did you mean what you said or was that to help put me in a more comfortable position?”

he looked down at her, thinking for a moment but smiled warmly to ease her tension. “a mix of both, sunshine. if you’re still up for that kiss, i’d be more than happy to do so with your permission.”

she would become more flushed at his response but would grin happily. “you didn’t need a mistletoe to kiss me, hancock. i was more than willing to if you felt the same.”

“guess now we know, huh?” he’d whisper softly and tilt her chin up, slowly closing the distance between them both.

Nick Valentine:

nicks smile faltered in response, his eyes observing the scene before him for a little while. something in him throbbed with pain at the way the person smiled at her confidently as she stood still, not rejecting his offer and he took that as a sign that she allowed it. he excused himself from the conversation politely before it could happen and walked out of the room without a second thought to allow himself to have a breather. the muffled holiday music would fall on his ears as he took a seat on the patio, quietly attempting to push away the idea that sole was indeed having fun with someone else.

lighting up a cigerrate, he quietly watched the christmas lights that lit up the street with a sigh and took a drag, wanting to get the thought out of his mind as soon as possible. perhaps he’d head on back to diamond city as soon as he was done with his cigar, hopefully having the courage to thank sole for inviting him with a smile. nick wouldn’t realize how much time had passed or how long he’s been out in the cold until he heard a voice calling out his name faintly behind him.

“nick?” he’d look over his shoulder and immediately throw the cigar on the ground, stepping on it upon realizing who the voice belonged to. composing himself, he’d address her with a forced smile.

“hey there, doll.”

sole would smile back at him and stop in her tracks, looking at the empty spot near nick. “is this seat taken?”

“not at all. never taken for you.” sole giggled softly and sat near him, giving him some space. he quietly removed his jacket, placing it over her shoulders and she chortled, sending him a small thanks in return as she pulled the coat closer to her body. a silence surrounded the two for a moment before he broke it, not wanting to appear suspicious. “what brings you out here, doll?”

sole thought for a moment before responding, “i just came here to check on you.” she said with a worried smile, “i saw that you weren’t around and well.. they told me you just suddenly up and left the party, so i just had to check.”

he smiled, a warm feeling filling his body. even at times where she was occupied by other things, she still cared about his well being. “i’m doing just fine, no need to worry. besides, i know you’re busy with your date, so i wanted to give you some space.”

“my.. what?” she was pulled back at the words that left his mouth but then responded quickly upon realization, “oh! you mean the person you saw me with? no, no, nick that’s a misunderstanding!” she laughed. “they were just doing that whole mistletoe tradition thing, yknow. where they kiss and stuff... but i’m pretty sure you know about it.”

he gazed at her as she continued to speak, pausing in between as she processed her thoughts. she stared at the ground. “i didn’t kiss them though. i rejected them and told them i wasn’t interested.”

a sudden flood of relief washed over nick and he let out a breath he never knew he was holding, the dreading feeling in his chest immediately turning into nothing. “is that so?”

“yeah. i had other plans too, so it just wouldn’t work out either way.” she smiled with a blush, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. he looked at her with a curious expression. “did you manage to get around to those ‘other plans’?”

she blushed and scooted closer to him, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek softly, immediately sending him to shock. his eyes fell on her the moment he realized what was happening and felt something inside him whir loudly. once she pulled away, she grinned at him shyly with a completely flushed face. “i have now.” she beamed happily as he touched the spot where she kissed, a smile of his own growing. “merry christmas, nick.”

he pulled her in, wrapping both his arms around her and kissed her temple lovingly as he whispered.“merry christmas, sole.” sole let out a pleased sigh at the contact, melting into his embrace.

Sturges:

sturges would swallow with a small, forced smile, trying to hide his discomfort in front of the eyes of others. much to his luck, he was great at doing that. his eyes would remain on her, not being able to avert it elsewhere no matter how hard he tried. despite his strange change of behavior, he’d still try to contribute the the conversation he was held hostage in, but give shorter replies, uninterested. a series of ‘uh-huh’, ‘yeah’, and hums would leave his mouth instead of well thought replies as he continued to focus on the scene nearby.

once sole presented a sign of discomfort that he was well aware of, he’d immediately excuse himself as apologetic as possible, quickly pacing to her. as he made it closer to them, he’d speak with a friendly tone, not wanting to make the situation worse. “hey now, is everythin’ alright here?” his eyes would flicker from sole for a while and then to the person who stood in front of her, a scowl on their face as they looked straight at him. he didn’t mind; if it meant irritating the person away from sole as far as possible, then so be it. he had no plans to leave now and he definitely wasn’t going to do so, even at soles commands.

“yeah, it’s just fine.” they said with an annoyed tone and sturges would reply with just as much attitude. “i wasn’t askin’ you.” he would then turn back to sole who smiled at him with relief, and he knew he made the right decision. “i’m okay, sturges.”

“i hope this fella wasn’t botherin’ ya too much, sole.”he commented loud enough for them to hear and their face went red with anger as they shot him a glare. “whatever, man.” and would stalk off towards the other direction with mumbled insults.

he’d sigh disapprovingly as he watched the person walk off childishly and then look back at her with a smile. “you okay, sweetheart?”

“of course i am. i was about to tell him off anyway.” she smiled happily at him and he felt his heart melt at the sight. “i’m glad you stepped up and saved me the trouble though. i really appreciate it.”

“no need for a thank you. i just did what was right.”

sole laughed and tiptoed, resting a hand on his cheek and before sturges could react, she placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, closing her eyes in bliss as she did so. once she retreated, she caught the familiar crimson that dusted his cheeks and giggled at the surprised expression on his face.

“my way of saying thank you since you won’t accept it and, uh..” she pointed at the mistletoe above them and he smiled nervously, letting out a shaky laugh. “gotta follow the tradition, yknow?”

“well, ain’t that a lovely way to say thank you.”

she nodded, taking both his hand in hers and stepped closer so that he could hear her murmur. “hope you don’t mind me saying thank you like that from now on.”

he leaned his forehead on hers and chuckled. “not at all.”

Preston:

preston would immediately show reaction to it, his smile dropping completely and his eyes widening in what seemed like terror and devastation. the words around him would become nothing but static and the music would be blurred as he felt time slow down. he knew sole deserved the best, but deep down, he hoped he was the best for her and maybe this was just the answer he was waiting for all along. with a heavy heart, he’d look away from the scene before it could happen and grow uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole conversation. he didn’t even bother to spare a second glance and tilted his hat down, afraid of what he’ll see.

when sole approached him later that night during the party, he jolted and automatically felt his heart drop as he met eyes with the one person he had it bad for. he tried his best to pull a smile but failed miserably as it looked absolutely forced.

“hey preston, not enjoying the party or something?” she said quietly, taking a seat next to him on the couch. the concern on her face meant she was picking up the unusual signs he was exhibiting and he felt panicked, knowing there was no escape.

“just not feeling it, that’s all.” he responded, looking back down at his drink on in his hand.

“we both know that’s a lie, preston. i can see right through you.” well it was worth a shot. “mind telling me what’s on your mind?”

he thought for a moment, wondering if it was worth telling sole about his feelings at this point since he had already gotten his answer. maybe he could fake it with a smile and carry on with the conversation casually in hopes that she’ll eventually drop it or maybe he could excuse himself elsewhere for the rest of the night to think to himself. instead, he just let out a deep breath and put down his drink.

“mind if we talk outside then?” sole smiled and nodded, standing from the couch and offered him a hand to help him up. they exited the building and walked down the quiet streets of sanctuary, side by side. sole remained quiet, waiting for preston to break the silence instead of forcing it out of him.

“you know what i’m about to tell you, i hope it doesn’t change anything between us.” he filled the stillness of the air and felt a small hand gently grab his bicep to stop him from walking any further. he looked back and caught the reassuring smile on her face. “you know it won’t change anything.”

he looked down at his feet, a blush forming on his face. “i know.” he breathed, “ i know it wont. you’re not like that.” she let out a hum of agreement.

“i guess.. i guess i was just upset that i saw you with someone else under the mistletoe.” he murmured, voice dying down the more he spoke, “and that i lost my chance.”

sole looked at him, baffled for a moment. “lost your chance? what do you mean?” he picked up his head to gaze at her with a defeated smile, lightly scratching the nape of his neck. “to tell you i like you, i guess. seems like someone already beat me to it.”

“what?” she looked confused and stepped forward, trying to explain herself, “preston, you’ve got it all wrong. i didnt kiss them! i left to go find you after i checked up on a few people.”

he stood there, wide eyed while trying to process the words that left his mouth and he realized in horror that he based off things due to his assumptions. “i- uhm, excuse me? you didn’t uh-“

“no, i didn’t kiss them preston and well, you could say i know who i want.” she grinned happily at him with a blush on her cheeks, keeping her hand on his bicep. he felt his heart beat loudly against his chest and he was caught off guard upon registering what she meant. “oh. oh!” a smile slowly grew on his face as he beamed at sole, holding both her shoulders in excitement. all signs of devastation and sadness immediately washed away as if it wasn��t there in the first place. “that’s - that’s great! oh my god! i-i don’t know what to say!”

“you don’t need to say anything.” sole laughed and moved her hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his skin. “just kiss me. you know, a celebratory one.. since it’s christmas and as my way of saying i feel the same way.” he nodded, leaning in to connect their lips.

“of course.”

Gage:

as if this party wasn’t bad enough already; the person talking was annoying the shit out of him and now the only person he’s ever had a crush on was being hit on by some low life. his scowl that was already there would only deepen more upon seeing that unsettling scene but would watch from afar, hand ready on his gun just in case some funny business were to arise. as much as he wants to put a bullet right between their eyes, he resists, waiting for some kind of signal from sole to give him the go.

without looking at the person who accompanied him, he’d speak gruffly, his expression absolutely twisted in anger. “shut the fuck up, will ya?” and they did, slowly sliding away from him in fear. he kept his eye on her, patience running thin as they grew closer to sole by the second. the second their hand stroked her arm flirtatiously, he snapped and made his way to them without a second thought, hand already drawing his gun.

“youd look better with a smile.” they commented as sole rolled her eyes, obviously unintimidated by their behavior. the sound of a gun cocking behind the person would stop her from responding and she’d peek behind them, seeing a furious gage glaring at the back of their head. the room went quiet, watching the scene before them but not daring to butt in, knowing gage was a tough one to take down. after all, they knew the safest route to this was for sole to take care of the situation before it escalated.

“and you’d look better with red,” he threatened, pressing the gun harder against the back of their head. “lots of it.”

the individual would turn a deathly white as they shook in fear, paralyzed. through stuttered words, they’d try to explain themselves, “i-i-its a tradition, the mistletoe! it’s - it’s just something w-we do every ch- christma-“

gage would shoot the mistletoe above them and sole watched as it fell to the ground, broken into pieces as sole sighed at the sad sight. “stupid ass tradition if ya asked me.”

she’d sigh and fold her arms, tapping her foot almost impatiently. “gage, quit it.” she demanded with an irate expression, “leave it and let’s go.” when gage refused to withdraw the weapon, sole sent him a sharp look. “now.”

and just like that, the person would let out a breath as gage retreated, mumbling some colorful language under his breath as he made his way to sole. they both walked past the silence crowd and once they made their way far enough from the party, she stopped in her tracks and faced him with a smirk. “jealous much?”

“i ain’t jealous. that was just getting’ ridiculous and embarrassin’.” he commented, looking elsewhere with a scowl.

“sure you weren’t.” she teased, earning a glare from the raider, “can’t deny that you wanted to kiss me though and you definetly wouldn’t think that tradition was stupid if you were under the mistletoe with me instead.”

he rolled his eyes and walked past her, wanting to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. “shut the hell up and keep walking, boss. we ain’t ever gonna make it back to nuka world with all yer blabberin’.” he stayed silent, knowing well that whatever sole had just told him was utterly true to the core and there was no absolute way he could deny it.

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

I'd like to thank you for talking about being transgender, the "feeling like..." thing, it's really enlightening. I can't say I actually get it since I'm cis, but I think I understand the logic now, and before I was, indeed, confused by this mess with gender roles, gender stereotypes, and representation.

So this is a response from my reply to this post if you want to see what anon is talking about. To add onto that and to your ask:

Ya, it can be really confusing to understand what a trans person means when they say "I feel like a [gender]" cuz gender isn't a feeling. And it causes a lot of misunderstandings. You don't feel like a man. You are a man. But in this context feeling isn't meant as an actual emotion. Much like you can have a "bad feeling about something." We just don't always have the right words to describe the thoughts and reactions our brain and body are having. All I knew when I was 8 was that I wanted to be a boy. I couldn't explain why or how I knew. I just did. Since I couldn't explain it, it got ignored till I actually started learning what being trans was (this isnt a diss on my parents either. They're both great and supportive. They didn't know what trans was either. Also, I was literally 8). And ya, it can be a lot easier to say I "feel" like a man. But it's not really the most accurate or clear way of describing it.

And it doesn't help that dysphoria manifests differently for every trans person. Some people get spiraling depression, can't even take showers cuz they can't handle seeing themselves. Others only have issues when out in public. Some (like me) got so used to the dysphoria and constant discomfort you were able to ignore it since for you it's normal/able to avoid the things that make it get bad-- at least until a certain point (cuz eventually you can't ignore it). It fluctuates too. And it's all caused by your physical body not lining up with what you know it should be, even if it's subconsciously. It's weird and strange and super hard to describe in any universal way. Which is why people often use the phrase "I just always felt like a man/I feel like a man."

But the BIG and major thing that sets apart trans individuals is the fact that it's about the physical body. Even if there were no gender roles, no pressures at all, everyone of every gender is treated the same, everyone was gender blind basically... Trans people would STILL exist. Cuz it doesn't matter about societal pressures. It doesn't matter about gender roles. It's about the actual physical characteristics of the body. And being recognized as the gender you know you are. Being seen as yourself. If someone is talking about "feeling like a man" and starts talking about gender roles then they have a very misunderstood understanding of what trans means.

Thanks for the ask. I'm glad I could help you understand, and I hope the further explaination above helps too. Feel free to reach out again!! :)

[party-gilmore]

New SPN Theory: okay hear me out - incoming Fictional Theology that may mangle a few things but it's all in good fantasy and to alleviate some of my own personal discomfort at G-d being portrayed Like That.

Chuck isnt actually The God.

He's thinks he's The Almighty and fully believes it and has most of the necessary memories associated with it BECAUSE, drumroll please...

...he's actually the youngest of the pagan gods (albeit incredibly powerful) born into existence by the sheer number of radical, evangelical, frightening fervent worshippers all over the earth who believe in this wildly inaccurate, fictitious, end all be all perfectionist micro-managing judgement day apocalypse/revelations obsessed twisted TPTB version of Him.

The sheer power of their belief and worship had to go SOMEWHERE, and it wasn't to the actual Creator because They were so very far removed from this fictional version of Herself made up based on homophobic translations of the misogynist translations of the racists translations of the original text (also conveniently explaining meta-wide SPN and its TPTB and their own trouble with such content) to the point where there was hardly any similarity at all.

And so came into being Chuck - a pagan god born from the power of enough people's belief in an almost tulpa-like manner, who's frightening power is less because of the strength of his followers beliefs and more because a core tenet OF those beliefs is his ommipotence.

Because they believe he created everything, HE believes he created everything, and has even convinced his own self that he has the memories to back it up - to a degree. He's working with an incomplete deck and he knows it, repressed that part of himself that knows he's not The God and shoved it away, but some lingering instinct remains.

He spends so long not revealing himself to the angels because part of him knows there's gaps in his memories that cant be found in, or even outright contradicts, what's publically available to the believers that bolster him and what's in the available lore.

Things like, what his first words were to certain angels, discussions he might've had with then right after Lucifer's fall, etc. Personal stuff that if he spends too much time around them, might get found out he doesnt know.

It was touch and go there for a while when The Darkness came around, because truth be told he only had vague insinuations and as much info as the Winchesters could dig up that one - but luckily, it turns out The Darkness had been sealed away for so long, her perception of her original Sibling was so faded there was no way she was going to recognize any differences. Chuck's vague omniscience (as granted him by any one who believed in a god who patrolled your mind for sinful thoughts to punish you even if you dont act on them) let him keep one step ahead by skimming her surface thoughts and emotions whenever around her.

ANYWAY ALL THAT TO SAY:

We get to the end of series.

And The Actual Almighty has had enough.

They stepped away in the first place, so long ago, because in order for Free Will to matter, for ANYONE'S choices to matter, everyone's choices had to matter. Even the shitty people. Even the evil beings.

If She were to begin picking and choosing which courses of action He thought were good versus evil, or if They let some consequences or butterfly effects occur but others, isnt that just arbitrarily ignoring Free Will for one in favor of another? It's still saying "I dont think this choice should happen, so even though theyve made it, I'm removing it from the table." They would be no more than a puppet master. Of happy puppets, but puppets nonetheless.

No, regardless of morality, remaining involved would invalidate the entire point of Her creation: life must be able to make choices, good AND bad - so long as it's a choice. He must even remove himself from the presence of The Host, for as long as they are with Her they will only think of what to do that would be pleasing to Him, as opposed to what they themselves want.

And now, this Chuck fellow is making quite a stink.

Normally, Her own rules state that They shouldnt get involved, but in this case Free Will is already being removed from His creations. Something on a smaller scale happened once before, but the Winchesters through their own choices and will subverted that path.

This is on a much larger scale though, so perhaps They should get involved. Just a little bit. So She disguises Themself and finds Dean in an abandoned gas station on an empty earth, and Dean calls Him his little Miracle.

From then it's canon-divergent from mid 15x19 where the dog is basically G-d but like in the same way as the armadillo in Road to El Dorado, where She helps in clever little unnatural ways to aid the boys in their task so as to never openly reveal His hand.

Also when They go and get Cas from the empty, because of course He does, She has a wonderful little talk with him where Cas gets to be filled and surrounded by a divine presence of love and pride and delighted surprise that is telling him you were right to think for yourself, right to step away from simply trying to please Me to living for your own, right to love. You were never broken; there was never a crack in your chassis - you are the ONLY one who did what I hoped you all would. Castiel - Cas - you are my beloved son and i am so, so proud of you and it's all at once Motherly and Fatherly and also something wholly Neither, and Cas realizes that this whole time the "divine" has just been a massively scaled up macrocosm of humanity, in it's staggering entirety (or rather, the other way around since it was the Divine which begat Man), so of course They understand

Cas steps back onto this earth with new confidence in his purpose (to fight for his family and this world) and new assuredness of self (in that he is fully at ease with the massive yet now feather light awareness of his love for Dean) and neither of the brothers can figure out why he's being so formal to their dog and Cas Wont Tell Them.

He does, however, tell Jack that he spoke with his real actual Grandmother and that He is so, so very proud of him and They love him and She just knows he's going to do great things.

Halfway because They asked Cas to pass on the message, but only if he wished, and the other half because he knew Jack deserved to hear it.

[cryoculus]

soulmate au wit oikawa where soulmates feel each others pain and oikawa isnt the one who hurt his knee, his soulmate is a soccerplayer and got slide tackled. i really love your work, tysm!!!! 💐

» Word Count: 6,080 wordsCross-posted on AO3

Omg i was looking for references on what to base the scene where the soulmate gets tackled from and this is what i imagined! Just scrub the video to 0:14!  I know jack SHIT about soccer though. Everything in this work was purely based off research, so feel free to leave me a message if you spot some errors!

And MAN this was meant to be a short scenario with quick transitions but it turned into a whole drama bomb. You can keep scrolling if you’re not up for a 6000-word oneshot ++ as usual, my shit is terrible on tumblr mobile pls bear with me.

Oikawa loved the thrill of the game.

The incessant beat of his heart against his chest, the adrenaline that surged through his veins, the buzz of confidence that washed over him as he hit powerful serves at the other side of the court – he was enamored with his own capabilities, so to speak.

Today was like any other day. Seijoh was hosting a practice match against Datekou and Oikawa was in top form. They were already down to a match point in the second set. But just before he could land the killing shot that would decide the winner, he halted mid-air as a searing sensation ripped through his knee.

The volleyball bounced aimlessly for having been forgotten. Oikawa fell on his side against the hardwood floor, clutching the afflicted knee to his chest as agony bloomed across his nerves. He bit his lip, not allowing himself to utter a single sound as everyone else on the court crowded around him.

“Coach, Oikawa’s injured!”

The sound of your knee popping from its sockets from where the enemy defender, Yamanaka, kicked you from the side was sickening. Even through the incessant cheer of the audience in the stands, you could hear it loud and clear. The moment the sole of her shoe made brutal contact with your knee, Yamanaka even brushed her torso against yours, roughly toppling you off balance and forcing your kneecap to absorb the impact of your fall.

For a moment, your vision darkened from the agonizing pain that flared up your right knee as you fell onto the grass. A scream ripped its way from your throat, your hands scrambling for purchase to alleviate the mind-numbing sensation that burned through your nerves. You’re sure that your leg was twisted in an unnatural angle, too.

The distant sound of a whistle rang in your ears. Even through your current state, you were hyper aware of everything that’s happening around you. Players from both your team and the opposition flocked around you with concerned stares. Your best friend, Harada immediately crouched beside you, careful not to move your injury.

“Hey, (Name)!” Her eyes were wide with dread. “Can you hear me? Can you stand up?”

You shook your head with minimal effort, groaning as you did your best to remain still to avoid inflaming your knee. A few moments later, a couple of medics arrived in the scene, telling the others to give you some space to breathe. You wanted to tell them that you could breathe fine, but your voice failed you.

As you were being carried onto a stretcher, you could see one of the referees giving Yamanaka a red card. She only shrugged, as if getting penalties was a regular thing for her. But before she could step off the field, she took the liberty to cast you a self-satisfied smirk.

A sob unknowingly made its way from your lips, gaining the attention of one of the medics that was about to bring you to the first aid station. He murmured something about everything being okay in the end and that you’d get to play with your teammates soon enough.

Today really wasn’t your day.

“So,” Doctor Yamano began, “what seems to be the problem here?”

Iwaizumi nudged Oikawa, who was fidgeting nervously under the professional’s gaze. For some reason, he harbored an inexplicable discomfort around doctors. Whenever he visited one, it was either because he was sick or sustained an injury. Frankly, he wasn’t a fan of both.

“While we were playing a practice match against another school earlier today, I…” His voice trailed off. How the hell was he supposed to explain it to him?

Yamano hummed. “Yes?”

He sighed. “…I felt my right knee give out.”

“Did you apply the proper first aid procedures, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa nodded, recalling the urgency in Coach Irihata’s voice as they lugged him to Seijoh’s infirmary.

“Is it severe? It probably isn’t if you’re not in the emergency room, I presume?”

He scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “It felt serious. I really thought my whole career was done for just because of a practice match.”

Yamano nodded in understanding. “Did you have your knee x-rayed already?”

“Uh, no.”

He sighed before lacing his fingers together. “Well, I’ll be needing a clear image of it so I can make a proper diagnosis, Oikawa-san. I’ll write you up a request form to show the radiologists.”

“Ah…” Oikawa wanted to tell him that it really wasn’t necessary. That maybe going here was a mistake because his knee still looked pretty much intact, save for the dull throb that pestered him throughout the day. Iwaizumi even jokingly berated his soulmate for getting such a severe injury. But Oikawa didn’t really know how doctors reacted to that.

So when he was given the green light to get an x-ray, Oikawa told Iwaizumi that he’d be all right on his own and that he should get going. There was obvious apprehension in his best friend’s eyes, but he indulged Oikawa’s request, regardless.

He was glad. If there truly was something wrong with him, he wouldn’t want Iwaizumi to be there to see how bad it was. He already worried about him far too much than Oikawa deserved.

“You go here often?”

You shot the guy that was sitting a few seats away from you in the waiting room a bizarre look. If you could recall perfectly, you were in a radiology center, not a bar.

“I’m not even from here,” you explained gruffly, pressing your legs closer together. They exchanged your uniform with a hospital gown to minimize the pressure on your knee as much as possible. The injury was beyond what the stadium’s first aid medics could manage, thus the impromptu trip to the Sendai Medical Center. But before the doctors could assess the severity of your condition, they needed a visual.

“Hmm, so am I.” The stranger sighed miserably. “I live in another district, but this is the only hospital that covers my insurance. So, where you from?”

Your brows scrunched up at his nonchalance. Did you not look distraught enough for him to just leave you to your own devices? Maybe he was just like that as a person?

You exhaled. “I’m from Hyogo.”

His noticeably brown eyes widened in surprise. “What’re you doing all the way here, then?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

A soft-hearted laugh escaped his lips as he flashes you a cheeky grin. “When I see cute girls looking like their whole world just ended before their eyes, it’s kind of my thing to swoop down and comfort them.”

“Like a knight in shining armor of sorts?” you snorted.

He shrugged. “Take it as you like. All I’m saying is that I’m a pretty good listener. It’s not like we’ll cross paths again for me to hold anything you tell me against you, right?”

You managed to give him a lopsided smile. The gravity of everything that’s transpired today was slowly beginning to weigh down on your shoulders.

When the coach’s assistant arrived in the hospital, the game had already been concluded. Without their main offensive player, Mikage Shihan had to surrender their title to Aomori High for this year’s tournament.

When the news fell upon your ears, the sting of loss almost rivalled the throbbing ache in your knee. But before you could get emotional about your own hastiness, the nurse that attended to you in the emergency room informed that they needed an x-ray so the doctors could treat you accordingly.

Your eyes trailed back to the chatty stranger. He’s gazing at you expectantly and though there’s something about that sympathetic look he’s giving you that’s making warmth dance across your skin, you weren’t really the type to confide in people you just met.

Just as you were about to reject his offer, the door to the room where they conducted the x-rays swung open. The person inside called out your name, saying the machine was up and running. Talk about being saved by the bell.

You gave the stranger a curt nod as you tried to stand up from your seat, almost crumpling to the floor when the sharp pain from your knee shot up in your leg again, but you resisted it. Too many people have seen you in this sorry state already. You didn’t intend to add more to the list.

When the door closed behind you, you completely missed the way Oikawa Tooru clutched his own knee in a deathly grip as the pain, that he’s now realizing really wasn’t his own, came to life once more.

His knee was fine, but he’s pretty sure he accidentally stumbled into his soulmate in the process. At first, Oikawa didn’t know if Iwaizumi would understand, but thankfully he did.

“It happens,” he told Oikawa as they were heading home from practice. “Not everyone experiences it though.”

Iwaizumi told him about how Hanamaki and Matsukawa used their own bond to grate at each other’s nerves. Oikawa did a double-take on that one. He asked Iwaizumi why they didn’t bother telling him, their most trusted friend, about their status as soulmates. Iwauzmi smacked his head, reminding him how much of a chatterbox he was and that Makki and Mattsun wanted to keep it private.

“Ow!”

The woman that’s overseeing your therapy shot you a concerned look. You’re in the middle of doing the exercises that aid in rehabilitating the torn ligament in your knee, and you were on the last of your reps when suddenly, you lurched forward as if a ghostly hand had smacked you upside the head.

“You doing all right there, bud?” your therapist asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You rubbed the side of your head, still stinging from the contact (or lack thereof). “I feel like my head was spiked by a volleyball player.”

She laughed. “Really now?”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling it really often. One time, I was eating and my face nearly pummelled into a bowl of ramen.”

“Your soulmate must piss a lot of people off, then.”

You stared at her, but laughed it off as one of her jokes. Surely, she didn’t mean you actually had a soulmate right? Only a few people were blessed enough to be given one. Besides, whoever got stuck with you as a soulmate would be damned to the achingly slow healing stage of your knee for an indefinite amount of time.

But a hopeful part of you wished that, if you did have a soulmate, they wouldn’t be an athlete like you. Your own tribulation would only weigh them down in ways you can only imagine.

Oikawa could bear with the pain.

On good days, it was just a faint throb in his knee that he could ignore for the most part. His performance wouldn’t be easily affected by a twinge of pain. He had a pretty high tolerance for it, after all.

But there were also times like these when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, clutching his leg as he stifled a scream. What were you doing in such an ungodly hour?

He laid in his bed until the agony subsided back into the usual telltale throb that reminded him that though it’s no longer volatile, the sensation was still there. You were still in pain. He didn’t like the idea; not one bit.

That was the first time he looked you up. He clumsily spelled out your name on the search engine in the way that he remembered the x-ray technician from nearly a month ago pronounced it. He expected to see links to social media accounts you probably owned, but instead he was faced with a bunch of news articles from online high school sports magazines.

Curious, he clicked on the first link.

“Hyogo’s Own (Surname) (Name), Out of Commision for Good?”

Oikawa vaguely recalled you mentioning that you were from Hyogo and nothing else. It was a district far off on the other side of the country. It would take more than twelve hours to drive there, yet he had  found you sitting in a hospital in Sendai with a dead look in your eyes. He always wondered how exactly you wound up waiting to get an x-ray of whatever was afflicting you so far away from home, but the pieces slowly came together as his eyes grazed every word in the article.

“The coach of Hyogo’s Mikage Shihan is yet to release a statement with regards to their star player’s condition. But from what we’ve gathered from the team’s captain, Matsumoto Hiyori, she sustained a severe injury in her right leg. Some speculate that it was a dislocation, but others insisted that it was just a torn ligament. Whatever the cause may be, the football scene would be having scarce glimpses of one of Japan’s top three high school strikers, both in the male and female divisions.”

Your back collided with the wall as Harada roughly pressed you against it, holding you by the shoulders as unveiled fury burned in her eyes.

“Do you really want to end your whole career because of your own stubbornness?” she spat.

You have half the mind to tell her that your career would end sooner if you didn’t practice, but Harada would only remind you that you were given a three-month probation from any sporting activities. You hated that your doctor was right, that Harada was right, but could they blame you?

Soccer was all you had – it’s all you’re good at. You wanted to feel the rush of running through the field, the sun glaring at your skin, and the sound of grass crunching under the soles of your shoes. You ached for it.

“Just one month more, (Name),” she whispered, her fingers trembling. “One more and you’ll be free to play again. But right now…your knee still needs to heal.”

You knew that. You knew it far too well more than Harada or anyone else could ever understand. The burden of waking up every morning, feeling like your knee was going to snap off its sockets at any moment was already fair enough of a warning. But you couldn’t help yourself. You needed to move, to constantly be doing something because you’d rather incapacitate yourself entirely than spend another second feeling worthless. Seeing everyone do their drills on the field as you watched them between the barrier of a chain-link fence ate away at your sanity more than you expected it to.  

The door to the locker rooms abruptly creaked open as your team’s goalie, Suzuhime, and your captain, Matsumoto, made their entrance, shattering the tension that nearly suffocated you.

Their gazes, oh how sick you were of those pitiful gazes they sent your way. Why did they always look at you like you wouldn’t be playing alongside them anymore? It infuriated you to no end and the frustration that’s been building up in your chest for weeks just…burst.

“Why does everyone have to keep deciding what I can and can’t do for myself?” you snapped. “It’s my body, it’s my career, why do you have to meddle with what I want to fucking do with my life?”

Poison might as well dribbled from your chin at the sharpness of your tone. The two newcomers shot you wide-eyed stares, unused to your seething behavior, but Harada remained unfazed. She’s known you since you were children and even if you were a collected person for the most part, she’s borne witness to your rage a handful of times. And she knew how to handle the situation accordingly.

You were armed with an arsenal of even more hurtful things to say, but before any of them left your lips, the sting of Harada’s palm smacking against your face snapped you out of your haze of indignation.

The frown you didn’t know you’ve been making loosens as your lips parted in surprise when tears fell from Harada’s eyes.

“You’re not the only one who’s hurt by this, you know?” she interjected with a shaky breath. “We hate seeing you in pain. We hate it when you try to push yourself to limits you can’t reach anymore. So please just–” she exhaled, “–try to understand why we’re keeping you from training.”

Matsumoto came forward, pulling the two of you in a tight embrace. Suzuhime muttered something about unwarranted affection, but joined in regardless. You couldn’t react. You never really thought of it that way until Harada slapped you with the truth (no pun intended).

“Can you promise me one thing, as your captain?” Matsumoto pressed her lips in a thin line.

You nodded.

“Focus on getting better. The field won’t disappear, but your career can. Wasn’t that one big shot university in Tokyo eyeing you for a sports scholarship? You can’t lose that.”

And she was right. There was more to your life than this measly little slip-up. In five years give or take you’d be laughing at this whole thing like it was an inside joke. Everything was going to get better.

With that, you wiped the tears that ran across Harada’s cheeks, mumbling an almost inaudible apology.

“Man, you guys are too uptight,” Suzuhime whined. “Let’s all just get some pork buns like we used to!”

The idea never sounded better.

“What’s up with you?” Iwaizumi spared Oikawa a mindful glance. Their captain was rubbing his cheek instead of warming up for practice.

“I think she got slapped,” he muttered.

Hanamaki, having found out about Oikawa’s newly discovered soulmate bond, cackled. “You want to return the favor?”

“Shut the fuck up, Makki.”

“A soulmate?” Harada cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you have one, Suzu?”

Redness crept up Suzuhime’s face for having been singled out. “Um, yeah. It’s my childhood friend. You don’t know him. He goes to another school.”

Matsumoto scoffed. “That’s just high school girl-talk for ‘my soulmate doesn’t exist’.”

“Hey! He does, too!”

Harada waved away their impending banter, her attention solely on you. “So you think you have a soulmate?”

You nodded, eyes drifting towards your half-eaten pork bun. “They get hit a lot. I’m worried they’re in an abusive environment.”

“How sweet,” Suzuhime sighed. “My soulmate doesn’t care about his health at all. He always gets into scuffles and the bruises take ages to heal. When I talked to him about it, he just shrugged it off!”

“If he exists, that is,” taunted your captain.

“Matsu, I am going to tape your damn mouth.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Ignore them,” Harada told you. “So, what do you plan on doing about it?”

You’ve been asking yourself the same thing. Soulmate bonds are a surefire way of determining that someone was out there fated to be with you. But the tricky part was finding them. They could be anywhere in the world and the only means you had to contact them were the shared sensations of pain you felt on both ends of the bond.

Your eyes drifted onto the black knee brace you’ve been coerced to wear for the duration of your therapy. It served as a visual reminder of what had happened. But then again, the dull ache that made itself known every now and then still haunted you. Did your soulmate feel that slight ounce of pain, too?

“I think,” you sighed, “I’m just going to wait it out.”

This was bad.

Oikawa Tooru was known for his exceptional talent as a setter and a jump server. He wouldn’t have the audience from the stands hyping him up when it’s his turn to send a merciless blow towards their opponent. But jump serves were the only serves he made, since he refused to settle for anything less. This put an unnecessary strain on his knees that he knew, from the start, he would pay for when the time comes.

That time was now.

He hissed as Iwaizumi soothed the taut muscles in Oikawa’s legs. Matsukawa handed their ace an ice pack, which he placed over their captain’s aching knee.

“Is it yours?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Matsukawa snickered at the side. “Of all the soulmates you could have ended up with, they just had to be an injury-prone idiot, too.”

Normally, he would’ve told Mattsun off for being mean, but honestly, he couldn’t have been more right.

“Shouyou’s playing volleyball now?” you clarified to your mother, who was giving you your afternoon massage.

She hummed. “Your aunt told me their school’s fighting to qualify as Miyagi’s representative for nationals. They got us tickets to watch their semifinals game.”

You couldn’t ever picture your little cousin, Shouyou, being able to touch the top of a volleyball net. He never even showed the vaguest interest in any kind of sport! Whenever his family visited yours in Hyogo a few years back, you always tried to get him into soccer one way or another. But he was as stubborn as an ox. Now, you’re hearing he���s playing to qualify for a national-level tournament for their prefecture?

“Miyagi, huh? That’s where I…” You frowned. No, you weren’t going to dwell on it any longer. “When’s the game?”

“This Friday, but we’re leaving on Thursday night. Your father’s driving.”

School wasn’t particularly hectic this time around, so you shrugged, agreeing with your mother to go all the way back to the place where some of your dreams were crushed. It wouldn’t do anyone harm, right?

Things were looking pretty dire for Seijoh. The little chibi – no, his entire team wasn’t letting up at all. It annoyed Oikawa more than it should. How did they still have that much determination left? 

Oikawa’s breath came out a little shaky as Mr. Refreshing and the little shrimp attempted to send the ball back to Seijoh. But Oikawa saw through the feint. Sugawara set it into the ace’s direction instead, who promptly slammed it down with unparalleled precision. Hanamaki was quick to react, diving for it without a second’s hesitation. The receive was off and it was flying away from the court, but Oikawa’s feet moved before he could even set a plan in stone. 

He forced his legs into sprints as he snapped his arm and pointed an index finger in the direction of the person he trusted most. His eyes flashed with fiery determination and the flames spread to Iwaizumi’s as well. It seemed impossible. It would be one of the riskiest sets he would have to make in his whole career thus far, but if he didn’t take it, he would just be admitting defeat. 

Oikawa launched himself into the air, twisting his torso in the direction of Seijoh’s ace and put the ball back in play all the way from where he set it from outside the court. Iwaizumi nodded in understanding, bending his knees for the sole purpose of connecting it. Naturally, the rules of physics still applied in a volleyball game and gravity eventually brought Oikawa back on the ground, at the cost of his back colliding with some of the metal chairs set aside. 

But Iwaizumi didn’t disappoint. He was already flying, arm pulled back in a spiking stance before the ball could even come to him. He trusted Oikawa’s accuracy enough to make this shot possible. There was no one else that could pull this off.

The captain grit his teeth, struggling to get back on his feet, but a sheet of black cloth was on the floor, making him lose traction in his shoes. The urgency in his action made him slip, his bad knee – your bad knee – colliding with the floor. The familiar sting in his bones flared back into life, but he couldn’t afford to pay it any mind.

He was running. Running even if his knee screamed for him to stop. Running even if his lungs burned for a breather. Running because even if Iwaizumi connected his set with a beautiful spike, that blasted Karasuno delinquent was definitely going to receive it–

A pained scream momentarily distracted him from everything happening on the court. It was strange. He never let what was going on in the stands distract him from a game, whether it be Seijoh’s supporters egging them on or some other matter than didn’t require his attention. 

But he could see it. The way you crumpled on the stairs a few levels above in the stands, clutching your knee to chest as you howled in agony. His heart stopped at the sight. 

What were you doing here?

“It hurts! It hurts!” you sobbed into your father’s shirt, fingers clamped around your aching leg. The all-too familiar pain erupted in your knee at the very same time that familiar face slipped on the court. You knew it wasn’t just a coincidence that the chatty stranger from a few months back was in the very same match as Shouyou. 

“Shh, we’re going to get your meds, baby,” your father cooed as he carefully hooked his arm under your knees and supported your back with the other. “Just hold out for a while.”

You could vaguely hear your mother apologizing to your aunt, but all your mind could focus on was how beautiful his eyes were. They were looking straight at you with crackling intensity. But before you could spend any longer drowning in those hazel eyes, your father carried you out of the stands, whispering words of consolation in your ear. 

“Oikawa-san!” 

Yahaba’s shout pulled Oikawa back into focus and he could clearly see Tobio running about on the court, going into position for their freak quick. A menacing smile graced Oikawa’s lips. That’s what he wanted – for his junior to use their ultimate weapon and fail. 

But something was wrong.

Iwaizumi, Kindaichi, and Kyoutani – the three of them, at the same time, lunged in an attempt to sully the ball’s trajectory. But they shouldn’t. The chibi’s arms were angled too obtuse. The shot was definitely going outside. He was about to bark at them to stop being a couple of idiots, but there was no reversing it.

Even if you can’t stop it, touch it, that’s what Oikawa always told them. He shouldn’t go back on his own teachings now. 

The chibi’s spike grazed Iwaizumi’s fingers. Out of instinct, Oikawa pulled his arms to the side in a pathetic attempt to receive, but he knew it was in vain. If only he stood a few feet at the back, maybe he could have had better odds. 

But fate has always been cruel to the ordinary. 

As all eyes were on the outplayed volleyball, none of the players dared to draw a breath. But seeing that Oikawa was already their last line of defense, it collided with the floor, the echoing sound imprinted in his mind for the rest of his days.

Seijoh had fallen.

“When I find that boy, I’m going to beat him to a pulp,” your father flatly proclaimed when you finished your story. The three of you were back in the Hinatas’ living room, your mother having soothed your knee with her otherworldly massage. 

“Dad, no,” you pleaded, but knew he didn’t mean the threat. At least, not entirely. 

“I’m going to have to agree with your father, sweetie,” your mother caressed your hair. “He must know what’s going on with you by now. He should be more careful.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Mom, I should have been careful. Who knows what he went through when I got slide tackled in the Aomori game.” 

She hesitated before sighing in defeat. Your parents then shared a look, presumably having a telepathic conversation as to what your next course of action should be. 

But before they could make that decision for you, Shouyou emerged from the hallway. 

“You’re…soulmates with the Grand King?” 

You didn’t know who this ‘grand king’ was, but he probably meant the chatty stranger turned volleyball player you met eyes with earlier today. You shot Shouyou a pained smile.

“Yeah.”

“Iwa-chan, I don’t get why we’re in rival territory. Why won’t you just tell me?” Oikawa simpered as Iwaizumi dragged him along further inside Karasuno’s campus. A few girls they passed by shot him knowing glances, which was odd. Most females would swoon at the sight of Oikawa Tooru.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi dismissed before letting go of his best friend’s collar when they arrive at the school’s gym. “Someone wants to see you.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “If it’s Tobio-chan, tell him to forget it! As if I’ll let him gloat about their victory in my face.”

“Dumbass, it’s not him! None of the players are looking for you!”

“Then why are we even here in the first place?”

“Uhm, hello?”

It’s been months since Oikawa’s heard that voice, but even now, he could still associate your face with it. You peeked your head from inside Karasuno’s gym. The sound of volleyball shoes scraping against the polished floor spilling from inside almost made Oikawa nostalgic, but he was preoccupied with something else entirely.

You grinned at him, but your eyes held a hint of shyness in them. Oikawa didn’t know whose breath hitches, but he’s definitely having a hard time taking in oxygen at the sight of your face, more vibrant than the first time he saw you in Sendai. His eyes glazed over the knee brace slapped on your right knee – it looked painfully similar to the one he needed to wear in games. 

“I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time,” came your sheepish apology. “If I’d been more careful back then, you could’ve beat these guys… But I was rooting for Shouyou from the start, so…”

Oikawa didn’t know anyone named Shouyou, but he must have been someone close enough to you that you’d go all the way from Hyogo to watch their game against Karasuno. He made sure to shower whoever Shouyou was with infinite affection for finally, finally bringing you back to him.

Shit, he’s hot. 

You didn’t remember mister chatterbox from the hospital being this attractive. Maybe you just had such a terribly pessimistic view of the world at the time that you missed how unfairly good-looking he was.

You could feel the warmth spreading all over your face at apologizing profusely for your past mishandling of your current predicament. But he dismissed all of your concerns with a lighthearted laugh that sounded like a symphony in your ears.

“(Surname) (Name), Japan’s number three striker, is apologizing for an injury she didn’t even mean to get? You’re quite the saint, are you?” The way your name rolled off his tongue tugged at your heartstrings more than it should. Stupid soulmate bonds, making you lose composure all the damn time.

“You know who I am?” you queried, rather amused with this revelation.

He offered a nonchalant shrug. “I do my research.” 

The two of you stood there, carefully taking in each other as much as you could. You almost felt bad for the friend he brought with him, who stepped aside as to not interrupt your first meeting with your soulmate. But knowing that he’s the boy who’s always getting smacked in the head, the one that made you feel the sting of a service ace on the tips of your fingers, and the very same guy that powered through the burden you unknowingly shoved into his plate all with an award-winning grin on his face, it was all worth it. 

This was Oikawa Tooru, one of the most amazing setters in the high school volleyball scene.

But why did he look like he was about to cry?

Oikawa couldn’t help it. He threw his arms around you and took a long whiff of your scent. Ever since he ensured your identity, he couldn’t help but think of all the times your pain was transmitted to him. Those days were difficult for him, alone, already, what more for the person actually suffering the affliction?

Gentle fingers tangled themselves in your hair as he pulled you as tight as he could into his own body. His arms shook with the sheer emotions coursing through his veins and–

“Why are you crying?” 

He sighed, placing his hands on your shoulders. You eyed him bizarrely, but concern was lining your features, nonetheless. 

“I hurt you.” 

You snorted. 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve hurt you more times than the other way around,” you retorted, smiling up at him. “What kind of athlete would I be if I had a shitty pain tolerance?”

His eyes widened, taken aback with your reply. Admittedly, he already planned his first meeting with you in his imagination dozens of times. Only he didn’t expect for it to be in Karasuno, a day after his last volleyball game in high school. But he imagined himself letting his emotions lose, apologizing for hurting you, and you clasping his hands in forgiveness. He didn’t exactly write it in the script for you to take the blame, yourself, too. 

You were simply full of surprises.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and talking until the sun was beginning to bleed into the horizon.

Oikawa Tooru was an interesting person. He loved volleyball, had a penchant for milk bread, and admitted that he may be quite the narcissist at times. He told you that Tobio-chan, one of Shouyou’s teammates, was a junior that finally surpassed him. (There was a bitter undercurrent to his voice as he told that part.) He was going to Tokyo for college and–

“For real? I’m headed for Tokyo, too,” you chuckled, lacing your fingers together on your lap. 

Oikawa quirked an eyebrow. “Do you happen to be on a sports scholarship as well?”

You hummed, smiling playfully. “I dunno. Could the number three high school striker of Japan be able to land a scholarship even after this shitty injury?”

“Hmm…probably not.” Oikawa shook his head.

That reply garnered a pout. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t seen her play yet. She’s seen me play, and we both know that my skill is already university-tier.” 

“Yet, you still lost,” you sighed dramatically.

The offended look on his face was priceless. “You didn’t have to go that far!”

You bellowed a hearty laugh, clutching your stomach at the puppy eyes he’s sending your way. Never could you have imagined that same boy from the radiology center being gifted with a whimsical persona so in tune with your own. Weirdly, you’re thankful for the injury that linked you to him. 

But as your laughter died down, the sun had already set. Your mother told you to be back with Shouyou and from the looks of it, the boys were already cleaning up inside the gym. 

You glanced at Oikawa, who was contently gazing at you with a small smile. 

“I’m going back to Hyogo tonight,” you imparted. 

He gave you a curt nod. “Have a safe trip.” 

“What, you’re not going to proclaim your love for me and force me to never leave your side again?”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose at such a bold statement. “You’re pretty, but not that pretty.”

“Hey!”

“I jest. I jest,” he chuckled, tucking in a lone tuft of your hair behind your ear. The graze of his fingers against the skin of your cheek made your lips part in a mute sigh. 

“All I’m saying is what’s there to fret about when we have–” he gestured towards your knee, “–this bonding us?” 

“You saying you want me to get injured again, Tooru?”

“Oh, say my name again.”

“Pervert!”

“No! It really sounded nice in your voice!” 

“(Name)-neesan!” 

Your heart almost sank at the sound of Shouyou’s voice. He emerged from the entrance with his gym bag slung across his shoulder. With a polite smile, he asked if you were ready to go.

You almost told him that, yes, you were, but that’s until Oikawa hissed at him like a cat.

“You’re the Shouyou that brought us together?” he accused with thinly veiled apprehension, to which Shouyou laughed.

“That’s right, Grand King! You owe me now!”

“I owe nothing to any of you Karasuno folk!” 

You rolled your eyes to pull Oikawa into an abrupt embrace, which effectively snapped him out of his hostility towards your younger cousin. He stammered with his words, but they remained forgotten when you whispered in his ear:

“See you in Tokyo.”

[mjalti]

Hi ana🌸 I just started dating this boy kinda and he is genuinely a great person, we can talk for hours, have great chemistry and I love spending time with him. He is very emotionally open and great at communicating; however, I’ve always been very “emotionally unavailable” and have a hard time committing. He respects my boundaries and is great at “reading me” when I can’t get my words to work, feelings-wise, but I feel bad (1/2)

For not being able to show my emotions transparently and /feel/ as deeply as he does. Tips on how to emotionally mature? Or tips in general? I’m 19 and he’s turning 21 this fall if that helps (2/2)

hey my dove. pls dont feel bad about this. you are moving as fast as you can! i would say this sounds like you are a person who grew up without necessarily being in an environment where vulnerability & communication were encouraged so you dont have that much practice in it. If im right about this, guess what? we have that in common! what is good though is that you RECOGNIZE that this is an issue, that this isnt “normal” although it is common. so the very idea that you’re trying to fix it should tell you to not be ashamed of what you’ve had to live through to get to this point. the ONLY thing that makes a relationship work..is communication. And communication does often include a level of awkwardness & “corniness” but you need to decide if your happiness is worth this momentary discomfort. I would encourage you to tell this person that you struggle with being AS open as him right now but that doesn’t reflect your opinion of him. I hope you can actually just say the verbal version of this ask; that you admire him but you need to take ur time to “grow” to his level on communication and you appreciate his patience and efforts. I would encourage you to find a “language” with ur partner; for example for me i am infinitely more comfortable texting my words to people than SAYING them unless i know it is important for these people to HEAR these things then i make an effort to verbalize my texts. I think you can benefit from some communication exercises (as we ALL could) but i think you are just in a new, good place with ur relationship and it would just help to allow ur partner to know that you are trying ur best but you will also need ur time :) i wish u the best! 

[automaticbuffalo-blog]

Lessons in Love.

Don’t force what’s not meant for you. That’s energy you’re putting into something and all you’ll get is disappointed and drained. When you're feeding the past you're putting energy into something that's taking you backwards. Appreciate how life works, take the signs, love yourself, & keep moving forward. Because great things happen when you take such plunges in life. Things that you thought were out of your league, become accessible, dreams become reality and the fear of regret is replaced by the excitement of what has yet to come. Life is too short to live with regret.

Really caring about something...someone...is hard; it's an act of radical vulnerability. It exposes you to the highest highs and lowest lows. I suppose that’s what life is about though, isn’t it? Feeling it all? We all feel the same things, joy, sorrow, and pain. It's okay to be human. You might get wrecked and afflicted, but you love irrespective of the heartache, drama, and failures of the past.

Often times, because of our hunger for love and belonging, we search for intimacy - both emotional and physical closeness and openness - in all the wrong places. We fool our minds and hearts and dive right in without considering the consequences. Love isn't just a feeling, it's an action. It requires choices - hard choices sometimes. Love is about sacrifice. About faithfulness. It requires commitment. It doesn't always feel so good, and sometimes may even cause you great pain. But I choose to believe that it's worth it. It's worth everything that you experience, today and every other day. It's worth the countless wars within our own heart vs. mind. It's worth the many tears you shed every night. It's worth the fights you have faced and the battles you will further face. It's worth the discomfort, the anxiousness, and uncertainty. So we love - even when we feel unloved, when our hearts are ripped at every corner into pieces so small we’re no longer sure we exist, when you know it's not going to last.

Over the years, I've been beyond considerate of other people's feelings to a point where I would never express how I felt in certain situations. I'd keep my pain to myself, bottle it up, cry and move on. What I've learned along the way, especially during the last year, is that pretending to be strong makes you weak, denying your feelings makes you foolish and crying in secret leaves you alone and sad.. so I wear my heart on my sleeve and I say how I feel. But there comes a point where you've said everything you can say. Your part is done. Being vulnerable enough to communicate your feelings & concerns and set healthy boundaries is empowering. How the other person chooses to receive what you share is entirely up to them. Being open with your feelings, being vulnerable, but still choosing to spread love...well, that’s the bravest & most mature thing of all. Continuing to hold on when the other person doesn’t reciprocate and refuses to talk about their feelings because it’s inconvenient? Well, that's just self-destructive.

You are not excused for treating another human being - who has give you unconditional love, empathy, understanding, forgiveness, and support plus an infinite amount of chances to make things right - with respect because you're going through some shit. Stop playing victim for once in your life and own up to your bullshit. But hey if making me out to be the bad guy and you the victim helps you work through shit then go ahead. I'll be the bad guy. I'll play the part. I screw up. I'm flawed. I fuck up and sometimes in big ways. I'm selfish. All of that shit. Put it all on me. But don't say I didn't try my hardest because I did. I make mistakes, and I'll never be perfect, but my intentions are good, and in the end I'm only human. We both are. At least I can acknowledge and try to fix my shortcomings. I've grown & continue to, and it's your loss if you wanna waste your breath being angry because you would rather guilt trip me into dropping the subject and tell me I'm being dramatic then define something that began NINE YEARS AGO TO THIS VERY DAY.

People who genuinely want to be with you don’t resist being with you. They just be with you. It is beyond cruel to lead someone on and play with their emotions just because you’re unsure of your own. Everyone deserves that feeling of being wanted, not put up with, not lead on while waiting for someone else, completely & utterly wanted. But you can’t prove your worth to someone who just refuses to see it. It’s sad, it sucks, but its the truth. At the end of the day, I can’t... I won’t... feel less than because someone I love doesn’t love me back.

Cheers to all those who still choose love, despite and in spite of the odds.

[gray-autumn-sky]

Sleepless in Seattle, Chapter 9

March 6, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

Belle carries a bologna and cheese sandwich that’s cut up in quarters over to Roland, grinning as he grins up at her to accept it.

“So, she begins, sitting down across from him. “Your dad said you were having a friend over today after school. Did something happen?”

“No,” Roland says easily as he bites into the sandwich. “I ride the bus, but Gus doesn't, so his mom had to pick him up like she always does and bring him over.”

“Oh—“

“He said he had to make a stop.”

“He did,” Belle says, her brow arching. “Not his mum?”

“Nope. Him.”

“Ah—“

Roland nods as he chews  the bread’s crust. “We have a project we need to work on and we needed paper.”

“I’m sure you have paper here. You’ve got a whole bin of construction paper and—“

“No,” Roland says, cutting in and shaking his head. “We need nice paper for this.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Roland grins and nods, then takes a bigger bite of the danish. “It’s really important that we have nice paper.”

“Oh…” Belle shifts and straws in a breath. “So your dad has been seeing my friend, Emma.”

“Emma is your friend?”

“Yes, mine and Ruby’s.”

“Oh, I… I didn’t know that.”

“Your dad says you don't like her.”

Roland shrugs. “I don’t really know her.”

“That’s fair,” Belle says slowly. “I just… I just want you to understand that just because they go on dates sometimes, that… that doesn't mean he’s going to marry her.”

Roland’s brow furrows as he looks back at her. “Then, what's the point of dating her?”

“Well, to… get out and get back in the swing of things and…”

“I don’t have a problem with my dad dating.”

“So, it’s...just Emma you don’t like?”

“I just don't think she’s right for him.”

“That’s why people date. To find someone who is right for them, and that’s a decision that no one else can make for another person.”

Roland nods, considering it. “Then why did you and Aunt Ruby set him up with Emma?”

“Because he’s a really good guy and she's nice and… we thought they might be good together.”

“I like Regina better.”

“Who?”

“Regina,” he says, as if she should know. “The lady who wrote the letter on the pretty paper.” He grins. “She likes Hemingway just like dad does, she has a son who is in Boy Scouts and I’ll be in Boy Scouts next year, and she makes great lasagna, dad’s favorite.” Roland grins as he considers it, and then his grin fades away. “Emma makes Shepherd’s pie. It was not good.”

“Not everyone is gifted in the kitchen.”

“I know, that’s why dad needs someone who is.”

At that, Belle laughs. “So where is this Regina person from?”

“Connecticut.”

“Roland, that’s really far away. It’s all the way on the other side of the country.”

“I know where Connecticut is. I looked it up on the big map at school.” He pauses and takes another bite of the sandwich. “But Gus says a long distance relationship can be a good thing because abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Um, I think you mean absence, Roland.”

“Yeah. That. That’s what Gus said.”

Belle’s eyes narrow. “Gus as in the little boy that’s coming over to play?”

“To work on a project.”

“Oh, are you not friends with Gus that way?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Oh, I just…” Belle stops. “Never mind.”

“Well, that may or may not be true, but who am I to argue with the sage advice of a six year old?”

“Gus is seven. He had a late birthday, so he could have been in second grade.”

A grin twists on to Belle’s lips. “That explains it then.”

“Yeah…”

The doorbell rings just as Roland is finishing his sandwich, and as soon as it does, he stuffs the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and runs to the door. And Belle can’t help but laugh as he pulls open the front door, grabs a hold of his friend’s wrist and drags him up the stairs without a word…

“You should see this letter,” Roland says, closing the door behind him.

“Is the paper nice? My mom says that’s how you know someone cares—when they send you something nice.” Gus nods with a serious expression on his round face. “It’s all about the effort, ya know.?”

Roland nods in agreement. “It’s very nice.”

“Then she really likes your dad.”

“Yeah,” Roland says, grabbing the letter from his night stand. “And she included so many of the things my dad likes, without even knowing it.”

“Wow.”

“I know,” Roland says handing his friend the letter. “Look.”

He watches as Gus looks at the envelope, examining it carefully as if looking for clues, then he unfolds the letter, his eyes slowly moving over the words. “You read this?”

“Well… not.. not all of it,” Roland admits. “Just the words I know. But I can tell it’s a really good letter.” He grins. “She quoted Hemingway, and one of the quotes she uses, my dad has a journal that says that same thing on the front.”

“Cool.”

“Right? She is a good cook, too.”

“My dad says that’s super important.”

“Her best meals are my dad’s favorite which is lasagna and then my favorite, apple pie.”

“That’s amazing,” Gus says, his eyes widening a little. “Why did your dad say?”

Roland frowns. “He didn’t read it.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got a girlfriend.”

“Does she make apple pie?”

“No, she makes Shepherd's pie.”

“Ew.”

Roland nods. “It had peas in it.”

“Gross. She’s gotta go.”

“Yeah,” Roland frowns. “She’s… not that bad, really. She rollerblades, I guess.”

“Has she taken you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Then what good is that?”

“I don't know,” Roland admits, “Maybe she will someday.”

“But maybe your Dad’ll dump her before that.”

“I hope so,” Roland says, a little grin pulling onto his lip. “That’s why I invited you over, actually.”

“Need me to throw a fire and scare her of? My dad says I’m ‘specially skilled at making people wanna leave when I get upset about stuff.” He giggles. “Have you ever seen Parent Trap?”

“No. “What’s that?”

“Only the best movie ever. Twins scare off their dad’s terrible girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m not a twin, so I don’t think that would work,” Roland says, considering it as he shifts a bit uncomfortably. “Plus, not actually terrible. I don’t want to scare her,” he says. “I just want her to break up with my dad ‘cause there’s someone better for him.”

“That’s the point,” Gus says. “To make Emma go away.”

“I have a better idea, though,” Roland says, sitting up a little straighter and smiling at his own cleverness. “We are going to write her.”

“Her—“

“Regina,” Roland says. “We are going to write back to her.”

“We’re in first grade, Roland.”

“But we’re the best writers in our class. Our teacher is always saying that.”

Gus nods. “That’s true.”

“So, together, I think we could probably write a pretty good one.”

For a moment, Gus considers it. “We did get an A on that Halloween story was wrote together.”

“Exactly.” Taking a breath, Gus looks down at the letter. “I have some ideas. I started yesterday.”

“Let’s see.”

Reaching back into the nightstand, Roland pulls a lined piece of paper from the drawer. “It’s, just a draft, obviously.” He says, handing the paper over to Gus, watching as Gus reads it to himself then clears his throat to read aloud.

“Dear Regina,” he begins.”You sound really neat—“ Gus grins up at him. “That's a good line.”

“I thought so,” Roland beams.

“You should tell her how much you like lasagna next.”

“Yeah! And why!”

“Good,” Gus nods, looking down at the rest of the letter. “That's good. She is going to love this!”

_____

March 6, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

That evening she and Daniel went out on a date—dinner while Henry was at a friend’s working on a project for school. Daniel suggested the little place in Hartford where they’d gone on their first date, and she’d easily agreed—Henry didn't have to be picked up until nearly eight that evening and it’d have nice to eat in a restaurant that didn’t have children’s section on the menu.

They took her car and when they got into the freeway, Daniel flicked on the radio, and almost immediately her cheeks flushed at the sound of Doctor Hopper’s voice.

“Isn’t this that show you like so much?”

Regina shrugs. “I’m, um… I’m actually doing a story for work on this show.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s... it’s about its emotional appeal.”

“Ohh, that's… that’s actually really interesting. I’d like to hear about it sometime,” Daniel tells her, offering a quick little grin. “When did you start this?”

“Um, a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is it—“

“Can we… not talk about it right now? I’ve spent the whole day thinking about the angle I wasn’t to take for this story and what my argument is going to be, and I just… I just want to focus on something else.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel says easily, not seeming to pick up any any of her discomfort over this particular topic. “Do you want to change the station?”

“No,” she murmurs. “I do like this show. It’s… it’s oddly calming.”

“Alright then,” Daniel says, grinning as he looks over at her. “We’ll listen, but not discuss.”

“Perfect,” she says, grinning back.

Daniel tuns up the sound just as Doctor Hopper comes back informing listeners  that he’s talking to couples who are sure they’ve found the key to a long-lasting and healthy marriage. And then, they listen to a string of callers explain to Doctor Hopper and his listeners how they married someone they felt was their best friend.

When they arrive at the restaurant, the host leads them to the same table they’d ate at on their first date and she and Daniel had both laugh at the coincidence—and then something glitters in Daniel’s eyes.

And again, she found herself with an uneasy feeling that has become commonplace whenever she thinks he might be considering a proposal.

They get through an appetizer and dinner—and then, after their desert arrives, she watches Daniel reach into the breast pocket of his jacket and pull out a ring box.

She masks her discomfort with surprise and suddenly when the box opens, revealing to her a gorgeous antique ring that he tells her was his mother’s, the entire restaurant is staring that them.

She’s not even sure what he says when he asks because she can’t hear him over the beating of her heart and the voice in her head that tells her this is too soon—but he smiles and the crowded restaurant aww’s and she finds herself nodding, reminding herself that Daniel is, by far, the sweetest, kindest man she’s ever met, that he loves her son and that he loves her, and she reminds herself that she would be a complete fool not to want to marry him.

And as she stares at him with a hundred conflicting thoughts going through her head, she couldn’t help but think there were far worse things than marrying a man like Daniel Colter; and while she and Daniel might not have had passion, but perhaps they had something better.

She comfort and ease, understanding and trust and the sort of love that came from what seemed to be rekindled friendship.

So, she says yes.

The restaurant claps and Daniel pulls her into a warm hug—and she sort of melts into him as she feels a burst of contentment that lasts for the rest of the evening.

And then, she gets home.

Mal is there, curled up one he armchair with a glass of wine, her brow arched skeptically.

“Thank you, for, um,... for picking Henry up.”

“He’s never any trouble.”

Regina smiles. “Is he already asleep.”

“Yeah, He went to bed about a half an hour ago. You just—“ Mal stops and sits up a little straighter as her eyes fall to Regina’s hand. “Oh, so that’s why you were detained.”

Smiling Regina nods. “We… um… we had some unexpected celebrating to do.”

“I’ll say, Mal says, getting up and cross the room toward her. “He finally did it.”

“He finally did.”

“And, you obviously said yes.”

I did,” Regina says smiling a bit shyly. “I… wasn’t sure, but then there he was with the ring and—“

“Regina—“

“I love him. I do. And what we have might not be perfect, but it’s incredible and I’m happy and I’ve never been as happy as I am with him.”

“What about Sleepless in Seattle?”

“Sleepless in Seattle doesn't even know that I exist.”

Mal nods, biting down on her lip. “What happened to not being able to get him out of your head?”

“He’s a fantasy Mal. He’s not real… not… not to me anyway.” She shakes her head. “And Daniel is very real and when I’m with him I feel—“

“Magic?”

“Mal—“

“Please don’t do this, Mal,” Regina says, pressing her eyes closed as she sighs. “Please just let me have this.”

“What about your story?”

“What’s about it? Regina asks, stepping away from Mal. “I can still write it.”

“Really? Because I got the impression the story was an excuse.”

“The story isn’t an excuse. It’s… it’s just something I’m interested in.” She shakes her head. “I… I think I was going down a really unhealthy road, and… and tonight sort of… snapped me back and put me down a different path.”

“A better one?”

“A healthier one. One that’s based on something real, not… not some obsession.” Something about that makes Mal soften. “For so long I was so unhappy, and I spent years building up this idea of what love is supposed to be.”

“You deserve a fairytale.”

“Fairytales aren't real, Mal. They’re not and what I have with Daniel is very real.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I love him, Mal, and when I envision what our life together would be like, I really like what I see.” She smiles gently. “We’ll be happy.”

“You don’t seem excited.”

“I am, and for the first time in my life, I feel like… like I’m finally in a good place. Please, Just… let me have that.”

Mal sighs and nods,m and then a warm smile pulls onto her lips. “Okay, fine,” Mal says, take a few steps in and pulling her into a hug. “If you're happy, then I’m happy.”

“Thank you,” Regina murmurs as Mal pulls back.

“Okay, so I want you to tell me everything, Mal says, her smile brightening as she takes Regina by the hand. “Don’t leave anything out!”

[redandfranticfeelings]

'tag things making fun of doug' because your personal enjoyment of an abuser's content should supersede the feelings of the people he abused by making them act out rape jokes? the fact that making fun of an abuser upsets you because you like him warrants some serious self-examination on your part. 'you can't make fun of an abuser around me bc i like his content and you can't criticize me bc mental illness' is some wendycorduroy shit. i'm surprised you'd do this given how critical you are of her.

and yes, people are allowed to not like you for still liking the show. ofc people can have problematic interests if they want, but content that has been directly used by its creators to abuse people is a special kind of bad. you’re allowed to like it, but guilt tripping people or implying they’re not allowed to dislike the fact that you still support it is incredibly callous to the people rob, doug, and mike abused. this is not, nor should it be, about your feelings. this is about the victims.             

you know what. upon further consideration, those asks were not kindly phrased. my intention was to emphasize that because the anniversary movies were vessels for abuse (injuries, rape jokes, etc) it was inappropriate to prioritize one’s own feelings over the feelings of the victims or block out criticism, but i phrased them in a way that was not productive and was attacking you. i’m sorry for my wording and for being a dick          

thank you for your follow up apology. i see where youre coming with this but i think there’s a few things that i can point towards me not giving up on the show altogether.

short answer: while i detest the way the company has been run and is executing public relations, and i am uncomfortable watching any video on their channel and have not done such for weeks, and i really want the harmed ex-producers to receive justice, i still believe there is a shred of hope for the show based on what recent producers have said, and that doug can reform himself by owning up to his deliberate ignorance, neglect, and egotism, though he is not the biggest abuser in this situation. i have a lot of emotional history with NC that means i need time before i’m able to drop the show altogether, if i ever can, and i just want to avoid anything that isn’t constructive and just intended to make anybody feel bad for liking the show/movies before this information was widely known.

long answer:

most of the criticism lauded against doug isnt so much being the direct abuser but being complacent and ignorant of people’s health. if i recall correctly, while it was a pretty unnecessary and terrible joke to make in my opinion, he didn’t pick up that the drill scene in TBF made anybody uncomfortable at the time? and in recent years he seems more concerned about what his cast undergoes, and a lot of them have said that he does ask about jokes that might hurt them and make sure they’re comfortable. i believe he apologized for it and acknowledged his naievity in the movie’s commentary but restating that apology would be beneficial now, yeah.

while complacency and ignorance is bad, i think he has been neglectful, not directly abusive. also, idk if you meant this, but your phrasing makes it kinda sound like his projects were intended as a means to abuse people; the abuse happened because of the movies, yeah, but it was because of doug being egotistical and ignorant, not malicious. the content of the movies reflect’s doug’s massive ego but it doesn’t reflect a desire to abuse anybody. if he did the shit that mike michaud or mike ellis did, that would be inexcusable for me and i would have lost hope for him.

if anybody is definitely abusive, it’s the CEO, who i love watching get bashed because he is indeed a sexist verbally abusive asshole who holds the power in the company and is using it for his stupid selfish needs. it’s also been stated that doug is restricted by his contract with the CEO and could just straight up not be able to make videos if he stepped out of turn, so while i wish he would use his walkout power more, he doesn’t have as much power as some people attribute to him. he’s complicit in abuse but i don’t think that’s the same as being abusive? the producers themselves seem to go back and forth about how they feel about him but a recurring theme is that he’s tragically ignorant of abuse, but not on the same level of abusive as michaud, if they call him abusive at all (most just seem to feel betrayed by him).

additionally, almost all creators who have worked with him in the past couple of years, have stated they had generally positive experiences with the network, even the ones who are now leaving. the only thing that seems to remain an issue is the awful, awful PR (that apology sucked, i criticized it myself) and the lack of communication towards anybody not chicago-based. i feel they need to ditch michaud (which probably won’t be easy, since he’s a shady capitalist fuck), formally apologize and maybe provide compensation for past producers who were abused by the higher-ups, and either improve relations or just restrict everything to NC, because at this point that’s the only show that’s going to be left if they don’t get their shit together anyway. but i do think that if they just take the easy solution of apologizing, even though it’s already way too late and they royally fucked themselves over, things can be a little better.

i’m also not against criticizing doug for not speaking out, because the least he could do is apologize at least privately and i’ve even emailed him imploring him to do at least that (i don’t expect a response though lmao). i just get hurt at people attacking the show and movies as being terrible and something no fan should like. a lot of people really attached to the series before this blew up, and for the most part the content of the show doesn’t reflect the behind-the-scenes issues.

i’m spreading relevant information on twitter regarding abuse and producers’ feelings, but so many people (obviously not the producers, but the fans/haters) involved in this are more concerned with just shitting on doug bc they don’t like him and a lot are trying to make him out as worse than he is. i want to spread what the producers say because i trust them, but i’m wary of fans who seem to just be in it for the drama or bc they never liked NC and they wanna spite people who did (yes, those people exist, they mocked me on kiwifarms).

i know this isn’t about me, but i’ve invested a lot of money and time and emotional energy in the show, it’s introduced me to new friends, and it’s been directly and indirectly responsible for some of my highest and lowest points of the past year and a half. my comfort ship has been very helpful in helping my loneliness. it gave me something to look forward to every day. not to pull the autism card, but it’s difficult for me to drop a special interest very easily and i’m jealous of people who can. i need time to grow entirely out of it if i can.

but even still, i haven’t watched a NC episode in weeks, even the new ones, due to my discomfort and shame towards the show and network (only NC thing i watched lately was the hyper q&a, which is on tamara’s channel, and i used it to fall asleep). i unsubscribed, and i really i only care about a few aspects of the show anyway.

if you want to hate me because i can’t immediately remove NC from my heart then fine, but if so, just unfollow me. i don’t want people to not post NC criticism, and i fully endorse spreading relevant information because i care about the victims and i want them to receive justice. i just want hate tagged so i, personally, do not have to be constantly reminded that a show that is/was close to my heart has so many awful things behind it, even if i’m not sure if i still love it anymore. and while i have been a bit guilt-trippy in the past i’ve been confronted on that already and i’m trying not to come across that way, and i’m sorry for having been manipulative at all. i’m paranoid about being abandoned and hated just for having watched this show but unless you’re like, a super close friend of mine, you can unfollow any time you want.

[johnboothus]

When the Customer Isnt Right: What the Pandemic Can Teach Guests

As a veteran of the hospitality business, my greatest successes have been measured by the width of customers’ grins. The happiness of diners has the power to give hospitality workers intense personal joy and satisfaction. Upon entry to the business, one of the first lessons hospitality workers learn is that the word “guest” should replace the word “customer.” “Guest” is used to remind us waiters, hostesses, and sommeliers alike that customers are to be treated as though they’ve been invited into their homes.

This sentiment is a part of every move hospitality workers make in a restaurant. We strive to make people comfortable. We do everything in our power to ensure that their guests feel at home. We run to the store for off-menu items. We adjust the volume of music. We tweak recipes and isolate allergens and hold in our pee until the end of service because, God forbid, table 48’s pasta sits on the pass for more than 30 seconds. We also make conversation, find personal connections, and dodge unwanted flirtations, all of this in the pursuit of a guest experience that evokes “home,” without in any way looking, smelling, or feeling like it.

My perspective on hospitality has always been “If I can, I will.” There were points, especially early in my career, when this led me to a space of unnecessary vulnerability and servitude. Pre-pandemic, I changed my dictum to “If I reasonably can, I will.” It was a small but important change of mindset. Requests are just that: courtesies hospitality workers accommodate if they can.

For restaurant workers, the impact of customers’ entitlement goes beyond emotional strain: It can put us in physical danger. I’ve had the privilege of providing service as a large white man, and still, I’ve been assaulted by a guest who felt their food was taking too long. Members of my team at Sommation (a pandemic-born online community of sommeliers) and other colleagues with less physical presence and societal protection have confided in me the fear and anxiety these situations create for them.

I will continue to make every effort to accommodate every guest; after all, I love this work. However, our constant striving for unrealistic hospitality has created an unsafe environment for restaurant employees. My mindset has shifted again, this time to prioritize workers’ safety and security before efficiency and revenue.

The Covid Complication

This pandemic has made it abundantly and loudly clear to all of us in service that we are and have always been vulnerable while serving. Telling someone to put on their mask is uncomfortable for anyone. It’s even less comfortable for hospitality workers, who trip over themselves to be congenial and hospitable. This is a nearly unwinnable battle. Do we further risk infection, or do we risk escalating conflict?

Workers should not be forced to consistently endure situations that cause them discomfort. Your server should not have to go to work if they feel ill. Your sommelier should not have to pour your wine if you do not have a mask on.

The industry must be firm about the boundaries it sets, and it’s incumbent upon management and ownership to draw a line in the sand. This line needs to extend further than Covid protocols, as our employees have been allowing boundaries to be crossed, overextending themselves, and putting themselves in harm’s way for their entire careers. It’s insane that it has taken a global pandemic to wake us up.

The Customer Is Often Wrong

While conscientious and excited guests keep us engaged, restaurant workers often fixate on the “Karens” who grind us up during service. We live in the anger around the entitlement expressed by our nastiest guests. We’ve been taught to tamp those feelings down. We commiserate with our coworkers at the bar. We yell and drink about it until we wake up, a little hung over, and do it all again.

The guest is not always right. Restaurants offer what’s written on the menu. Just about every restaurant has a robust online presence, so guests know what is being offered before they walk in the door. I want everyone in my restaurant to have a great time, but I can no longer justify adding stress to an already stressful job — not for me, and especially not for my employees.

When we say “no,” we aren’t being spiteful or withholding. “No” can, in fact, be said in a hospitable way. “No” can also be taken the way it’s intended, as a boundary. If a guest chooses to take offense, that isn’t on restaurant workers. As long as we properly take care of our people, our business will continue without guests who lack respect.

Teaching Old Dogs

Establishments must prioritize the safety of their employees over a Yelp review. They need to make it clear to their staff, guests, owners, and investors that giving a mouse a cookie isn’t a good idea. It’s gonna want some milk.

This is going to take time. It will not be easy, and it will take the most privileged voices in our industry standing up together to say “enough is enough.”

It might cost me a sales milestone some Saturday nights. There might be a Monday lunch shift when my labor budget squeaks out of alignment. Our industry must accept this as a necessary part of doing business. Workers are the most important asset we have, by far. Protecting them is not only the morally right thing to do; it has the side benefit of creating a positive work environment. People work better when they feel safe and taken care of.

We will probably continue to have nights sitting at bars complaining about the jerks we served that night; the sting of a bad tip hurts in more ways than one. But the more we hold the line, the better it will get. It turns out that not everyone’s money is green. If restaurant workers could be paid a living wage and not be beholden to guests’ whims, we’d be in a much better position to tackle the angry and entitled folks who sit at our tables.

How do we retrain guests? We need to be firm. We need to be consistent. We need to go into service every night knowing where the line is and how to advocate for ourselves when a guest crosses it. We need to listen to workers and prioritize their comfort over everything. We need to allow ourselves grace when we refuse a request. A warm, inviting environment is compatible with one that has boundaries. If we hold these boundaries every shift, our guests will learn.

The article When the Customer Isn’t Right: What the Pandemic Can Teach Guests appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/hospitality-retrain-guests-covid-19/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/when-the-customer-isnt-right-what-the-pandemic-can-teach-guests

[nightmareofcat]

Act of God

Loki stood quietly in the silent room, glancing between Sophie and Todd; wondering what they should do now that their short adventure was over. "Well my dear, if you are quite done giving us both heart attacks and dragging us across busy streets, I think I will take a shower. I can almost feel the slime those HYDRA agents were covered in." With a sneer and curl of his lip, Loki sauntered into the bathroom for a much needed shower.

"So dramatic," Sophie grinned and rolled her eyes.  "If you didn't enjoy that at least a little, then my hair is naturally blonde and I'm running away to marry your father. Go. More towels under the sink."

She laughed as Loki left the room and started a pot of tea on the stove. Then she plopped down, as quickly as her jeans would allow her to, on a seat next to Todd. "Sooooo, " she asked, "You really volunteered to have me be your pain in the ass? You must be incredibly curious because I stopped crying to you at the coffee shop to do something like that."

Todd looked at Sophie with a grin of his own. "Getting second hand updates from a third party was getting old, wanted to see for myself if my advice helped any. I'm happy it did, besides..." He nudged Sophie with an elbow, "I like talking to you. I don't have many real friends, but I consider you one of the special few."

"Friends..." Sophie said softly and smiled. "Thanks. I'm just figuring that kind of relationship out. I think I've figured out a whole lot of kinds of relationships since I lived here last. So what kind of updates have you been getting?"

The kind Natasha thinks are relevant. Todd chuckled and winked. Mostly that you two are quite the pair. His lips turned into a frown. "She told me about the memory incident, I've never seen her that shaken. Almost blew the OP I was on to come make sure you were alright."

"You're so nice to worry. I was taken care of well. You don't ever have to blow something like that just for me. OK? Sometimes it's best not to make waves, especially when that nasty alien is involved. It's common knowledge by now that he can mess with your mind without you even knowing." Sophie sighed and held onto her warm cup.

The walls of the apartment were thin and the bathroom, despite being small, echoed. So the fact Loki could hear the conversation in the living room didn't surprise him; what did surprise him was the topic of conversation. He stilled with his hands still in his sudsy hair and listened. Sophie.... calling him a nasty alien? Yes he could control someone's mind but only with the scepter, doesn't she remember that? His jaw clenched while he continued to listen.

"Well yeah, I hear he can be a major douche but I didn't know he could get in your head like that. Todd wrapped his hands around hers around the cup. If I could, I would totally put a few rounds through his eye socket, see how much he likes his mind scrambled."

"That would be pointless. He's already completely insane. I just can't wait for this whole thing to be over with. Whether we win or lose, it will all be done and I won't have him trying to make himself the center of my life anymore. I'm getting so tired of it, you know? Having to worry about being safe in your head twenty four hours a day...it's exhausting. I thought hiding from you and Hydra was bad. It's nothing compared to someone who can just show up next to you any time he wants." She shook her head to clear her mind a bit and said, Let's talk about something more fun. "He's depressing. Soooo.... what did you think of those lace thigh high boots Loki gave me?"

"Oh those were spectacular!" Todd chirped happily with an almost giddy grin. "I need to get a pair of those... for a friend." He blushed.

Kicking Loki in the genitals then stabbing him in the neck would have been less painful than what he heard come out Sophie's mouth. She... Didn't really love him? Wanted rid of him? Loki  nearly fell to his knees, catching himself on the wall with a loud hang. I knew it, everything Thanos brought forth in her head, it was just her deepest desires. Loki whispered to himself in anguish, tears escaped the corners of his eyes. Now he was crying in the shower, how much more pathetic can he get. First, he believes all the lies she spouted about loving him, wanting to be with him, and now this. Thor couldn't return soon enough, as soon as his brother came back... He wasn't sure what he would do, no matter how much his heart hurt; he would at least keep his promise, one of them should keep telling the truth. He knew he couldn't just shut his feelings off; slowly he would back away, maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much.

"Your friend has a pair. I gave them to her." Sophie laughed. "Maybe I should be as nosey as you are. What's better the romance or the sex?"

Todd coughed to hide his discomfort. "A gentleman never tells, all I will say is there is not much romance. If there is it's one sided. Why are we talking about this? Thought we were talking about shoes?"

By this point, Loki had shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, slowly drying himself so he could listen longer. He was an emotional masochist now it seemed.

"I'm done with shoes." She giggled and play pouted at the man next to her. "Sometimes there just isn't time for romance. You know what I mean? Maybe soon there will be more time for you."

"Heh, doubt it." Todd half smiled. "My friend isnt interested in having a paramour, just the benefits aspect... And the coffee." He shrugged. "If that's all she wants then I'll respect that, until the next conquest comes along then I'll be relegated back to barista boy.... How are you doing this? I never talk about myself, stop it you hussy." Todd playfully swatted her shoulder.

Loki stepped out of the bathroom, spared a glance at the cozy comrades then crossed quickly to the bedroom.

"I'm not a hussy!" Sophie gasped and swatted back with a grin. "And all I did was ask. You're the one that went right along with it."

The man next to her laughed loudly. "Yeah but I NEVER talk about myself; I'm an Agent, I get info not give it."

Bouncing up and down a bit with happiness Sophie giggles again. "So I got Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. both over the barrel on the same night? Wheeeeee!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, laugh it up." Todd just grinned.

In the bedroom, Loki lay on the bed, still in his towel. Thoughts ran rampant through is head, none of them pleasant.

Sophie did laugh it up and started to do impressions of customers from her coffee shop for Todd. She pulled a piece of her hair just under her nose and trapped it there, like a mustache, by curling her lip. Now I'm Kenny. "'Gimme a little kiss, baby. While the coffee cools. Just a little kiss. No one's looking. Kiss me."

Loki sprung out of the bed and was standing in the doorway in a flash, his own feelings confusing him greatly. She didn't care about him so why was this making him so mad? "Care to share what that was all about?" He nearly growled, at the situation as well as himself

Sophie turned to the doorway with wide eyes at Loki's tone of voice, her hair drooping limply across her face. "Ummmm.... I'm Kenny and I want decaf coffee and a kiss?"

"Funny, you don't look like a Kenny." He crossed his arms and cocked a hip to the side, the towel barely hanging on to his hips. "You remind me more of a Clint, he wants his coffee black and insane Gods to stay out of his head."

"Nothing is wrong with black coffee and not wanting crazy people in your head." Sophie looked to Loki like he was nuts and her hair slipped back into it's normal place. "We were just having fun."

Toukka came darting out from behind the sofa and started sniffing around Loki's damp feet.

"Fun... is that what it is now? Making fun of insanity is fun, I'll keep that in mind." He leaned down to scoop up his weasel companion. "Come now friend, let's leave them to their 'fun'." With that he turned back around and went back to the bedroom.

Todd looked between Sophie and the spot Loki just occupied. "Is he like that often?"

"He used to be, why do you think I was so confused? But he's been much better lately. I'm going to go see what's up. Umm.. the left door over here is a bedroom. Clean bedding is in the chest at the foot of the bed. Sorry if it's dusty.. I havent been in there." Sophie spoke distractedly as she made her way to her bedroom.

Once she was inside she stared at the fuming god. "Just what are you doing? Can't you manage to be civil to people?"

Loki was laying on his back, ankles crossed and one arm behind his head, the other playing with the bouncing weasel on his chest. "Don't see a reason to, all they do is betray me in some way in the end, no point in making nice when all they will do is leave."

With her hands fisted on her hips, Sophie stared at Loki incrediously. "What is that guy out there going to do to you? Stand you up for prom?"

He shrugged. "You never know; the betrayal of those closest to you are the most painful and hardest to see coming. Just best not to get any closer to people, with the future so uncertain."

Sophie was in complete confusion about what Loki was talking about and she rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed next to his leg. "Did Thor do something?"

The green eyed God snorted. "When hasn't Thor done something?"

"Well, why does he have you all upset now? Can't we count on him or something? He should be back soon, right?"

"He may be a cause of my madness but he is not the reason for my upset." Loki summoned a small ball and rolled it down his torso, Toukka chasing after it happily. "His hastened return would be most welcome; there is much to plan and go over, then I will for once be needed at the front."

Sophie sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "Then what IS the reason for your upset? Am I not allowed to laugh?"

"Just my insanity catching up with me I suppose, don't worry about it." He waved his hand dismissively. "You can laugh as much as you want, don't let my madness creep into your joy."

"You think we were laughing at YOU? We were laughing about customers we have had, not you, you completely beautiful narcissist. You were scaring me." She laughed and slapped playfull at his leg.

His leg flinched away as he frowned. "If you insist. Go have fun with your friend, you know where I'll be." Loki crossed both hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

"Are you jealous? Is that what this is? That I was talking to another human being while you were busy? You need to take a deep breath here and calm down about it." Sophie looked at him, insulted by the way he brushed her off.

"I'm not jealous, don't get your knickers in a twist. Any calmer and I would be dead, may almost be preferable." Toukka came scampering back up the bed, ball clenched between his tiny teeth. Loki extracted the sphere then rolled it down his body again.

Sophie picked up the ball and shook it at Loki. "Quit it with the righteous indignation. Lets try this another way. I'm assuimg you heard something you didn't like? What do you think you heard."

"It's nothing, I told you not to worry about it." He plucked the ball from her hand and rolled it, Toukka taking off after it. "Just me getting in my own head again."

"It was something or you wouldn't be brooding." She climbed on the bed to straddle his legs, as much as her jeans would allow and loomed over him with her hair falling all around. "Now, what bothered you? When we were talking about Thanos or when you thought I was asking Todd to kiss me?"

"I said it was nothing, why do you never believe me?" Loki sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

"If you know I never believe you, why do you keep saying it?" she poked at his stomach to get him to look back at her and her fingers were chased by Toukka. "Talk to me, dear. I don't have fancy superpowers like ESP."

His stomach twitched at the sudden poke and subsequent chasing. Finally he opened his eyes and virtually glared. "I said it was nothing."

"And you are lying and seriously pissing me off." She glared back.

"Once again not believing me. Not taking the word of the God of Lies, not surprising at all." His eyes closed again.

"The only times I don't believe you is when you actually are lying, so knock it off! Is this all because you thought I couldn't go for ten minutes without you in the room before I started flirting with someone else? Or are you just flat out jealous of everyone? Either one is ridiculious. You are Loki. And yes, I can use just your name to describe you because that name implies an entire dictonary worth of superlative words, that no one has time to sit and list! SO tell me what is wrong!" She leaned over and shot her words at his face. Her worry about his attitude was making her upset and angry.

Loki unfolded his arms to prop himself up on his elbows. "I am not jealous, especially not of Todd. I actually like the man, he was the one that got you to make up your mind about me, correct? Why would I have a problem with him?" Loki's nostrils flared while his jaw clenched briefly. "I'm well aware my name is a noun as well as a verb and an adjective. Why are you pushing the issue so much? Am I not allowed to have mood swings, or is that reserved for women and mentally unstable madmen? Oh wait, I am a mentally unstable madman. All I do is fuck with the minds of the masses, I'm sure you will be happy to be rid of that once the fighting is over."

Sophie put her hand to her forhead and sat back up with her eyes closed as she realized what he must have overheard. "Your ego is what's insane. THANOS is the madman that I will be glad will be out of our heads once the fighting is over. Thanos, not Loki. You aren't the only non-human in play here."

"Last I recall there are several nonhumans running around." His arched brow and flat look showed how unconvinced he was of the whole matter. "Alright you got me, my ego is so massive that it is making me hear voices. Happy now? I've confessed my father; now will the subject be dropped?"

"As soon as the attitude is dropped the subject will be." She countered and continued much more softly, "Listen, either you believe me right now or you can't have any faith in what happened with us a few hours ago. I can't fathom you not thinking that was beautiful and important. Because I know I'll always feel like it was."

"The attitude cannot be dropped, you should know that by now. It is part of who I am." His sigh came out in a huff when fell back on the bed. "I do not mean this to sound the way it will, but I have to ask." Green eyes locked with hers. "Why must I always believe you right away, but you never give the same courtesy? It is almost like you have no faith in my ability to handle things. Yes, my past reactions may have been a bit over dramatic but forcing me to explain myself does nothing but make me feel as if I'm a child being scolded by his mother."

[dpdr-dreams]

hi, i was wondering how i can get diagnosis independently such as online or something because im finding it difficult to tell m y parents about my symptoms. im regularly dissociating and nothing feels real and im constantly suicidal and have intrusive thoughts and do impulsive things like harming myself,,, i need answers

HI anon ! Thank you so much for your ask !

depending what you want from a diagnosis will depend where you go. I’m glad you're talking about your worries about parental involvement into your health, as i actually was referred without parental involvement at all to my child and adolescent mental health service (uk mental health system) ! be it from the issues being sources from home/ worried about parents potential negative outlook to treatment or diagnosis/ family circumstance which can in turn result in a difficult treatment process as you can already be maybe experiencing , but i strongly still advise if there’s a way to educate (if its not a case of safety or worsening mental health obviously) parents, family or gradually open debates on general mental health or provide a way for any parent or carer to then be in a better mindset and moral position to help you when you may need it most or support you along treatment, and if this is not possible find friends you can be open with or a teacher, therapist, social worker/counselor, just someone you can trust ! :). some adult try to think of (especially their) children in the best light so mental health issues can be a little confusing and feel most helpful cover it up (till its over) kinda thing (which any professional will tell you ‘off the bat’ is not how it works with mental health, brain is an organ that requires care on top of that body part being also linked up to your whole body, so is a priority and no care can make things much worse) especially very confusing for a parent or someone who has never experienced dissociation before. thats my step one, step two is back to thinking who to ask! so, for example, if your looking for help with your symptoms or a treatment path, but step one if family isnt working out right now or you don’t feel now is the right time (which i understand, and agree with you if thats your choice trust me aha) i would recommend counselors that can work into your school schedule with our disrupting a school timetable and take notes of symptoms and then transfer them to a phycologist that can privately come in for you to meet with you outside of school, remember often admitting discomfort around parental involvement is often respected and makes things easier! if your not at school or uni/college a local church or temple will have someone you can talk to and they tend to be a lot more private with information, as they won’t, have a name and document attached to you like in a school setting, but can be a more lengthy wait to meet a genuine diagnostic phycologist who can recommend you then for dpdr treatment as unlike a school there’s no laws ensuring time limits for waits, but i can almost guarantee they will know your local centers or services specific to you too during that wait.  ,or if you’re rather looking for the validation of a diagnosis and less of a treatment (which i do not recommend without then digging further for treatment after diagnosis as of the serious nature of dpdr) making appointments with your doctor and use key symptoms and words, bring up dpdr prior if possible, on phone or email etc and prepare your doctor to learn about dissociation before appointment as they will be a general practitioner and likely not even be aware of dissociation so dont let this hold you back from receiving help., use bus routes and learn your transport to your doctors and work out how to get there by yourself or with non-family related transport like friends etc. if being physically present for an appointment doesn’t work discuss with local church/temple or school to write a recommendation for as you said ‘online’ are “skype”/video call or “phone based” therapies and appointments which my university has and i believe is a method being implemented universally around the world atm, although I’m not sure how comfortable most diagnostic doctors are with creating a fully diagnosable profile of a person without seeing you interact in real terms with them and talk face to face but this can help create a profile, speed up the whole process, as less in centre time for a doctor to schedule and limit total of parental questioning visits out of the house without an excuse if your a bad liar like me aha. if your still worried about your privacy? discuss legality of search up on your age and information sharing laws of where you live. but this should in no shape of form limit your ability to get support when you need it, so don't let fear or other people come between you’re health and especially with what your describing its critical to find treatment as soon as possible as it can have longer lasting and faster recovery from damaging symptoms. so step three you’ve found the path of entry to a doctor best suited for you, create a list of symptoms, as i know i certainly dissociate during a session and can’t imagine the bravery it takes to make that first jump for you so to avoid your dissociation limiting your treatment again ill reiterate, use keywords, key symptoms ideally in perspective to how its effecting the main “three life indicators” social life, work and school life, and day to day routine functioning and use depersonalisation and derealisation, dissociation, etc as this helps your doctors more than imaginable in figuring out what’s going on in your head, remember  even the experts aren’t experts  and will need your guidance sometimes to reach a conclusion to help you or recommend you to the right people for you, be honest!. some resources to help you find some words that will ‘click’ better with a doctor and other help dpdr related->  (http://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/dissociative-disorders/dissociative-disorders/#ddd). as i know with my doctors at least they we’re very confused initially and then extra time had to to be spent on rewording my experiences to what they were taught as they were not very well working with dissociative disorders but of course had the basic training as a phycologist. dissociation is terrifying as im sure you know so i recommend finding grounding or ‘time slowing’ techniques that help to slightly regaining enough time to prevent impulses taking over your ability to control your own bodies actions. its key to not panic during dissociation and sometimes sit and accept the sensations even if quite violent or sensory distressing, gaining control when your not there to be in control is something i combat every day and it can feel scary but certain techniques like going limp or short term solutions to keep you from harm is important right now till you get the support you feel you need. i also recommend discussing medication before talking any as many effect dissociation and should be taken into consideration which many doctors forget and EMDR is the best and latest treatment for chronic dpdr ! so make sure this is mentioned in your first appointment as to put you on the waiting list asap i write a bit more on it here -> and dpdr in general to help you or anyone your talking to to understand it all a bit better ive written and used external information to help me put this page together https://dpdr-dreams.tumblr.com/about%20dpdr  

although treatment can vary too , remember they will be trauma-related treatment rather than only grounding technique worksheets as your symptoms are 24/7 dissociation,( some suffer from off and on anxiety induced moments of dpdr , so dont let your doctor confuse these things and put you on the wrong care programme) the treatment list will be, CBT, talk therapies, medication for other emotional health issues you may also be experiencing, but the most important treatment at the moment  for dpdr is EMDR, so as of your long lasting sensations i’d say it would be best fighting for that care plan :).

again if its more you feel you struggle abit to talk with parents but are able to if possible persist! and educate! u can use some of the information i provided to help you make your point to your parents if that’s easier or write down how you feel or the symptoms of a real illness you’re experiencing to your parent, find a way if possible! :)) 

if you feel you need a sense of validation of dissociative experiences i recommend DES like tests online as they’re linked to most clinical tests and can help you label your illness to yourself as it is common in dissociation to feel confused over it all as of the nature of dissociation-> http://www.traumatherapyboulder.com/mental-maladies-and-the-history-of-the-dsm/treatment-of-ptsd-dissociation/the-dissociative-experiences-scale-des/

and of course if you are in a state of crisis or need someone externally to have a talk to about what your going through which i know can happen so easily when dealing with such persistent and uncontrollable illnesses here’s a mix of phone, text and live chat spaces to help you when you need-> 

  The Trevor Project Call 866-488-7386 (24/7) Live Chat with the Trevor Project (Fridays 4:00 PM to 5:00 PM EST)

Crisis Text Line: Text SUPPORT to 741-741 (24/7). Our trained counsellors can discuss anything that’s on your mind. Free, 24/7, confidential.

thanks again for your important ask :) sorry if it was wordy and general or was a bit of a word jumble.of course i have experience with it so if you have more questions, or later questions at any point after you found your pathway and/or plan for care i will be willing to be more specific as i dont know your country and its laws of practice of course, and stay safe anon, seriously hope you the best ! x

[globlenet-blog]

Florian Fritsch: Other golfers cant imagine being in the sport and not flying | Ewan Murray

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/florian-fritsch-other-golfers-cant-imagine-being-in-the-sport-and-not-flying-ewan-murray/

Florian Fritsch: Other golfers cant imagine being in the sport and not flying | Ewan Murray

German undertakes epic road journeys between tournaments following a bout of turbulence left him with anxiety when flying and able to quit the sport

Late on Tuesday mid-day, Florian Fritsch is simply towards the south of Lisbon. This can be a journey that started by road when his participation within the British Masters ended, around 4.30pm on Sunday, incorporated a voyage from Portsmouth to Bilbao and concluded at lunchtime on Thursday once the German teed off within the first round from the Portugal Masters.

There’s no charitable organization or sponsorship element to show here. The 30-year-olds existence, what professional within touching distance of full European Tour status for pick up, is exclusive due to the form it requires.

Fritsch estimates he drives 28,000 miles annually. This season he’ll play in 18 from the 27 occasions he’s qualified for since they’re those he is able to drive to. I average about 90kph [56mph], he states. Consider it’ most likely spend much less amount of time in my vehicle than individuals who commute interior and exterior London. They’re hardly moving.

Like a college student in america, Fritsch accustomed to hop off and on planes like people go ahead and take bus but about ten years ago, throughout a flight from Frankfurt to Turin, turbulence ended up being to determine his future. During what he recalls like a very rocky mid-air spell, he switched to some German amateur golf coach sitting alongside him to inquire about what can happen when the worst-situation scenario transpired. It will likely be extremely swift was the stark reply.

Fritsch states: That helped me begin to think much more about the problem. Initially it had been a vital interest, then discomfort, a little stress, then fear. I believe it’s kind of unfair to it a fear. I’m scared of a mix of conditions, including heights. I’ve not a problem having a rocky landing or take-off. I do not have the same at 36,000ft.

By 2010, the problem was acute. I had been relaxing in Zurich airport terminal, waiting to mind to Qatar for any tournament, he states. It had been an excessive amount of that i can bear. I made the decision to visit home on the train and quit golf.

Fritsch would be a week far too late to start the procedure that will make him a teaching professional. With limited status around the Challenge Tour, and very little else to occupy themself, he came back to playing. Through the finish of this year, he’d undergone qualifying school to earn a complete European Tour card.

I enjoyed it there by myself, he states. I felt no pressure, like I needed to prosper to color the image of the perfect athlete. I had been playing by myself terms. I had been also really quite mad. My existence I used to be beating myself up over golf and also the twelve months where I truly didnt do anything whatsoever, I earn that card. I figured: Is golf really that all messed up?

Over these intervening years, Fritsch meddled having a dozen therapies a number of them strange for stopping his fear. A lot of them managed to get worse. I visited one of these simple air travel workshops more than a weekend, where 10 people sit around inside a circle. You receive requested what it’s you’re frightened of plus they finish track of about seven points around the board due to duplication.

I figured: The one who introduced up point two? Thats valid. Why wasnt I scared of that before? Point six, too. I visited with one fear and playing three. Everything did was require me to pay considerable time, stress and cash.

Fritsch hasn’t set feet on the plane since 2013. He’s perfectly peaceful with this, stating that being alone with ones ideas for lengthy spells within this chronilogical age of smartphones isn’t any bad factor. It will help that he’s, by their own admission, talkative and analytical naturally.

What do fellow golfers model of this existence? A lot of individuals are sceptical, he states. They’re not able to imagine finding yourself in this profession and never flying. Others have reach me and stated: Im afraid too. I shouldn’t mention anything in situation it damages my image or sponsorship options. Then there are plenty of people that are merely quite thinking about my story.

Fritsch is 104th around the Race to Dubai, using the top 110 guaranteed full exemption for 2017. A tie for seventh in the Dunhill Links Championship this month all of a sudden enhanced his claim.

It’s two-sided emotion, he states. Six days ago I had been nowhere, I did not actually have a decent sitting on the task Tour for pick up. To become where I’m now, which has certainly bumped up my mood. Sleep issues is the fact that pressure, you are feeling as if you have something to get rid of. That burden is one thing I must attempt to withstand.

Not that he’s busy with permutations. You should visit college and focus mathematics to operate that out, Fritsch states having a laugh. Honestly, considering the variety of people you need to consider, how much money you need to divide a mystery plethora of possibilities, then you’ve to focus on your personal performance and just how that could go. Youd need to be a minimum of a college junior to create accurate figures. I’d rather take more time gaming. Rankings and points systems is one easy way keep individuals jobs.

Fritsch might have a lengthy discussion together with his family when the point ever came where he was qualified for that PGA Tour coupled with a existence-altering decision to create. For the time being, his ambition is based on creating themself like a consistent European Tour artist. I’ve other interests. Individuals who say they’ll quit absolutely everything is the best? That isnt me. I’m not willing to stop my entire existence.

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2016/oct/20/florian-fritsch-golf-fear-of-flying