#of (dis)course; OCD

[laconic-nightmares]

putting 'if you can't reblog this unfollow me right now' in your posts is a great way to lose followers with OCD and prove literally nothing about whatever point you were trying to make in the mean time 🙃

[everymlmhybrid]

never getting over when my dad mentioned having panic attacks pretty often. and i go. dad??? how often? and he's like. ohhhh i don't know. maybe once a week. MY MAN??? ONCE A WEEK?

[lastoneout]

saw someone else do this so I'm doing a worse version:

I'm not trying to broaden any horizons here or flex with some classic/niche songs, I'm just having fun so these songs are probably ones people already know of/basic, but I'll reveal them after the week is up, have fun :D

[justjudethoughts]

Lessons in Divine Mercy

Necessary Context: Very early on in my journey with Religious OCD, extremely well-meaning mentors would often tell me the story of the Prodigal Son, and end it with "you just need to trust in God's mercy! He wants to forgive you!" But you see, for me, that was never the problem. 14-year-old me KNEW God wanted to forgive her. She also knew that if she committed a mortal sin, she was supposed to go to confession. And, well, um, she thought everything was a mortal sin. Literally skipped brushing my teeth once and thought it was a mortal sin. What scared me the most was the realization I couldn't literally spend 24/7 in confession. And if I was committing a mortal sin every few minutes, then how was I ever supposed to stay in union with God? To me, absolutely none of this had to do with trusting that God was merciful.

I was wrong.

It took a while to come to this conclusion, but I eventually realized that trusting in God's mercy had more to it than simply trusting He wanted to forgive me. It meant trusting that He knew me better than I knew myself. That He saw my heart and my mind and the absolute agony I was going through, and more than that, that He cared. I had to trust that His mercy was bigger than my illness. That He wasn't scared of my scruples. In practice, that meant I had to trust that even if I somehow managed to

— 1) Commit a mortal sin 2) Convince myself afterwards that it wasn't a mortal sin and I was just obsessing and 3) Forgo going to confession in an attempt to not perform a compulsion— that God would not hold that supposed mortal sin against me. Of course, now I realize how unlikely that entire situation is to even happen in the first place, but at the time it was my reality. It was my fear every single day, and that leap of faith was a terrifying one to make. But when I did, I could finally begin to do the things I needed to heal (aka, avoid compulsions, trusting that God is going to take care of it even if I mislabeled and avoided something I actually should have done as a compulsion).

You see, what I hadn't realized at the time is that God's mercy doesn't just mean He forgives your sins— it means He has a tender, bleeding, broken heart for you. For you and for everything you have been through. For you and for every hurt stored in your chest. For you and you alone, as though you were the only one to ever exist. His mercy does not simply say "go and sin no more," it stoops to write in the sand, and while doing so, finds you at eye level. Looks you in the eye, takes your hand, and raises you to your feet. Calls you by name. The Jesus who meets you in the confessional is the same Jesus who wept when Lazarus died. Whose heart was moved with pity for the crowd. Who dropped everything to raise a little girl from the dead, and the first thing He said when she was awake was to make sure she was given something to eat.

Divine Mercy means that God sees where you are, knows where you are, and pursues you there. Meets you there. Why else do you think He came down to earth as a baby? We got ourselves in trouble by trying to build a tower to heaven because that was never what we were supposed to do. God stoops to us. The confusion of Babble was undone by the descent of the Holy Ghost.

He sees you. He knows you. And He cares. Oh, how it hurts His heart to see you hurt! And how much more it hurts to see you scared of Him. Do you not think the Hands that crafted you know every crevice of your heart? Do you not think that the God who became a baby, whose heart was pierced for love of you, could hold anything inside that heart beside tenderness at the thought of you? For all of eternity He has had a simple wish — to wash your feet and kiss your wounds. Will you trust Him enough to let Him?

[snyderside]

I am not exactly sure if this classifies as an Au or headcanons since Trolls Band Together was kinda short and for the life of me I kinda hate when movies are rushed and we get the cut scenes afterward only as a storyboard(I also tend to like the concept art more than the official art)

But enough of me ranting and more into me getting into what I think/want to happen to Brozone when the band split up

(I choose to call it their solo career)

John Dory(19):

Seeing John Dory's entrance attitude and smugness truly made me think yeah this guy is definitely full of himself and in major denial about some things and what really confirmed my suspicion was when he said "I was the oldest I had no choice but to lead!"

So for his solo career, I thought maybe he did some odd job like bounty hunting, or perhaps he played hero with a small town with a small population of trolls or some other anthropomorphic species. Of course, anyone he would save or any group of bounty hunters he'd join didn't like him because he enjoyed taking control of the situation so much or bossing everyone around. He never liked being alone but he kept driving people away, so eventually he knew solitude was his best option, therefore living in Ronda alone in a forest. He did feel regret for driving his brothers away but only because he knew he was more familiar with bossing them around than some random strangers he'd just met. He kept the mindset of "Why should I feel bad when they're the ungrateful ones!" and "All I've ever done was look out for them, and I stepped up when Mom and Dad died!" after those thoughts he couldn't help but think "What are you doing John Dory?"

Spruce/Bruce(17):

I thought it would be funny if almost everyone at his little restaurant on Vacay Island or should I say Brandy's restaurant...well her dads knew who "Bruce' really was except Brandy. I like to think Bruce went to vacay island because either his therapist or himself thought he should relax more so he went on a "vacation". He chilled out, gained a little bit of weight making him lose his six-pack, and most importantly tried to win the heart of Brandy because she seemed to be the only one not falling for his charm. Brandy played a tsundere type of approach when it came to all his advances on her, but then it all came to a game of volleyball as Bruce's way of showing his dedication to her, of course some of the other players used his small stature against him and he was getting his butt handed to him. He was only able to score a single point (IDEK how volleyball works) and the way he leapt into the air had Brandy star struck, the that that was holding his hair back snapped and he used nothing but shear will power to spike the ball. I mean sure Bruce lost but did he really? He got the girl in the end so it's all that counts right?

Clay(16):

(So I don't really have much for clay because I used most of my ADHD superpowers on the other guys and there's not too much I can go on from the movie)

Now Clay just looked around for jobs, it was retail, then tried working at some corporate building but it all didn't exactly work out because none of his co-workers took him seriously. Feeling out of options Clay walked aimlessly eventually finding Viva and the Putt-putt trolls, at the time imagined them looking more post-apocalyptic and slightly barbaric and frankly chaotic, Viva needed drastic help because she was just a little kid like Clay. Clay offered to help her mainly because he has a tiny bit of OCD (Saying this because of how grumpy he looked when John Dory went off and did his own thing and him practicing and worrying before Brozone performance.) and Viva thought/thinks so highly of him and thought of him as serious which is all Clay ever wanted so he just felt at home...and may or may not have developed feelings for her in the long run. Still, hey I've already got into a Romance segment.

I'm going to leave this here and not do Floyd because I'll talk about his little solo career journey in an OC ramble. (I have no shame.)

Thanks for reading have a lovely day!

[scarletlizzard]

Part 2: Remembering

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: therapy, paranoia, mentions of mental illness, stalker, little cigarettes and drinking at the end

Masterlist

Current Fall 2018

"How did you sleep?" Wanda asks as she sits in front of you. You shrug, putting your hands in the pocket of your hoodie.

"Not too great. I uh, I sometimes have these dreams. Nightmares really, about that night." You swallow hard and look at the breathtaking woman in front of you. Even casual, in a yellow sweater and jeans, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the room. You blush at your own thoughts.

"You said you don't remember everything about that night?" She asks, you nod. "I believe you're blocking it out, mentally. Suppressing a trauma so hard you can't get yourself to open back up about it."

"So you believe me?"

"Of course, I believe you." Her tone is wavering.

"Every time I have one of these dreams, it reveals little pieces to me," you lean forward. "Maybe I can remember who it was, or more about them."

"But they were wearing a mask?" Wanda asks, making a note. You nod.

"They spoke to me, though.. I'm not sure. Sometimes they feel so close," you sigh, shaking your head. Wanda is still writing.

"And what did your shadow say to you?"

"They told me to run."

Wanda is silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours for something. Did she really believe you? When she had a list of your mental disorders and police forms at her fingertips?

"When your shadow told you to run," She stands and looks to the fire that was burning behind her in the fireplace. Her hands held behind her back. "What did you feel in the moment? What was your first thought?"

"I-I didn't know what to feel. Panic? Fear?" Your cheeks heat up, as you think back to the haunting voice. You were almost too embarrassed to speak. "But after, after the fear sunk in it felt.. exhilarating."

Wanda smiles at the fire, her back still to you. "So in your fear you felt, excitement. For what, why?" She asks thoughtfully, and you're thankful she still had her back to you.

You had thought about this a long time, every day. Why? "My life is the same, every day. The routines, the job, the same bottle of wine. Everything. You know I used to paint?" You ask Wanda. She turns to look at you.

"Really?" She asks with a smile, sitting back down.

"I had some work in an art gallery actually, in the city. Back when I felt.. more alive," you sigh again, looking into her emerald eyes.

"What made you stop?"

"My mom got sick, I had to take care of her. Then she died and I moved here and.. things were never the same."

"Your OCD intensified, essentially trapping yourself in your daily routines."

"That's how it feels, yes," you reply with a nod. Wanda reaches her hand out to rest on your knee. Your skin ignites under her touch.

"We'll bring you back," Wandas words are sure, you find yourself resting your hand on top of hers.

***

Summer 2017

You ran throughout your house, footsteps following close behind you. Before you can close the door to your bedroom, a strong hand reaches out, hitting the wood hard and swinging it wide open. You fall to the ground, heart racing, chest moving rapidly as you crawl backwards. Your shadow steps closer, taking 4 heavy steps towards you.

Another head tilt down at you, examining you. Behind the mask, under the hood, red strands of hair peak out.

***

Current Fall 2018

You stared at the brunette in front of you, a playful glint in her eye. "What?" She asks, leaning forward.

It had been a couple of weeks since your sessions with Wanda had started. Your anxiety had taken a backseat, and the compulsive thoughts in your head were easing. The two of you had even been flirting back and forth even, lingering stares and touches.

Wanda knew it was unprofessional. You knew it wasn't right. But neither of you couldn't help it. Each time she touched you, you felt your skin ignite. Each crooked smile ran up your spine with a shiver of pleasure. You look at her hands and count 4 rings between the two of them.

"Nothing, I really shouldn't say," you chuckle to yourself and sit back against the couch. Wanda grins, twirling one of the rings on her finger.

"No point in being shy now, Y/N. We practically know each others whole lives at this point," She says casually and mirrors you, leaning back in her chair. You think about her words.

"Actually, I don't know much about you, Wanda. I mean, I know some details, but you seem to have the upper hand."

She chuckles and lifts out a hand as if offering to you, "Ask away."

"Where are you from? I notice on some of your words, there's an accent." There's a blush on your face as you think of the way she says your name, her tongue sharp.

"Ah, you caught that, huh? I was born in Sokovia. I've lived here most of my life, though, the American accent kind of snuck in," Wanda thinks fondly of her home, it makes you smile.

"Do you visit often?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Last year, I had to go home for quite a while to help out my brother, Pietro. He got himself into some trouble," Wanda sighs and shakes her head. "We're twins," she smiles.

"Twins! Wow, I'd love to see a picture of the two of you sometime." You think of Wanda being a twin, not being able to imagine he was anything like her. She nods and crosses her legs.

"I'll see if I can find one for your next session," She says with a smile. You nod and smile back politelty.

"What did you do before all this?" You ask her and point to the room around you.

"I lived in the city for a while, actually. But I found something more... worthwhile here." Wanda grins, goosebumps on your arm arise.

There's a comfortable silence, and the fire behind her crackles softly.

"Tell me more about your art," Wanda says, a glimmer in her eye and a warm smile on her face.

"I wasn't good, by any means. But I wasn't bad. I was creative, if anything," you laugh as you think back to your paintings. "There is one hung still, I think, at the gallery I told you about. It's my favorite one. My last one."

"What was it?"

You find yourself laughing hysterically as you think of the painting, leaving Wanda confused. She leans forward to rest a hand on your knee.

You start to sob at her touch.

You think of the large painting that hangs in a gallery. People passing by not realizing it would foreshadow your own current state.

"It's of a beautiful woman.." You speak between cries.

"A woman running from her own shadow."

***

Summer 2017

"What do you want from me? Just leave me alone!" You shout at the figure standing above you, watching as they shake their head.

The shadow kneels down, a gloved hand reaching up to brush their thumb across your lips. Their eyes are hidden behind the white faceless mask, yet you can feel their gaze burning into you.

A spark of adrenaline and excitement fill your own.

"Game on," your shadow says.

***

Current Winter 2018

You awoke quickly in sweat covered sheets, thunder rumbling from outside. You rub your groggy eyes and reach for the nightstand to flick on the lamp. Your hand reaches for the notebook and pen you kept for this reason, and you began writing down your dream.

They were happening more frequently now. The details are becoming clearer each time. You had never felt so close. You were closing in on your shadow.

Yet, everything felt wrong. There was something you were missing. You read and re read the journal the rest of the night.

"How are things going with Wanda?" Natasha asks over lunch. She had invited you out today, hoping to hear some good news.

"Pretty great, actually," you smile at her, not telling her that you were still chasing your shadow. "I've actually started painting again." You look outside the window of the Cafe, seeing snow begin to fall.

"Have you really?" Natasha says in disbelief, but a smile on her face. "I knew this would be good for you! Almost two months and look at the progress you've made.." She beams at you, a guilty feeling rising inside of you.

"I'm having my Christmas party early this year, I'm going to spend actual Christmas at Yelenas this year. You'll be able to come, right?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," you smile, counting 4 snowflakes land on the window.

As you walk home from lunch, the snow beneath your feet crunches with every step. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing you had worn a warmer jacket, when suddenly you're aware of another set of steps from behind you.

You freeze, standing still. You inhale deeply, then exhale, and slowly turn around... to nothing. Empty air besides the light snow that stuck to the ground below.

Your hand reaches for your phone, dialing Wandas number. "Hello?" She answers on the 4th ring.

"Wanda.. can I come see you?"

"Do you need me to meet you somewhere?"

You look around, still seeing no one.

"No, I'll come to you."

You finish the walk home and grab your notebook and a warmer jacket before driving over to Wandas. When you get there, she's standing on the porch waving to you.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" She asks worridly, putting her arm around you and leading you into the warmth of her home. Wanda gets a fire going and watches as you sit on the floor in front of it. Instead of questioning it, she sits next to you, her warm body pressed next to you.

"What if it isn't real?" You finally admit, staring into the red and orange flames.

"What if what isn't real?" Wanda asks, looking at the notebook you clutched to your chest.

"My shadow," you whisper, feeling Wandas hand on your back. "You told me you believed me.. what do you believe?"

There is a silence between the two of you while Wanda sighs. She knew you would eventually ask this question.

"I believe that the mind is an extremely powerful thing. It's capable of persuasion and delusions. It can hide the truth from you.." she trails off, tears fall from your eyes.

She didn't believe your shadow was real.

"You believe... that I believe it's real. Right?" You ask and turn to her. Wanda nods slowly.

All this time spent chasing and running, you were tired. How many innocent people would have to get hurt before you gave up? How many more lies would you have to tell yourself and others?

You held out the notebook to Wanda. Her fingers brush against yours as she takes it from you and opens it up.

"My dreams, of a faceless shadow. That's all it is anymore. I'm done chasing it."

The rest of November passes quickly into December. You were back to your routine, ignoring the paranoid delusions of your mind. You continued your sessions with Wanda, trying to figure out why you had imagined up this person. You took medication. You still locked all the doors and windows. You painted. You dreamed.

***

Summer 2017

When the words came out of your shadows' mouth, you lift your leg, kicking them hard in the stomach and onto their back. You're able to run past them into the hallway, but you're quickly knocked down. Your shadow climbs on top of you, pinning your hands to the floor and straddling your stomach.

The two of you breathe heavily, adrenaline coursing your veins. "Such a pretty little mouse.." The shadow whispers.

***

Winter 2018

The party has long started by the time you walk in, a bottle of rum in your hand. The house is filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. People in ugly Christmas sweaters, some in just red or green. You look for Natasha and wish her a Happy Christmas, along with a hug.

"I brought rum," you smile, holding up the bottle.

"Yes! Ugh, you know this is my favorite thank you," she laughs and hugs you again, clearly has already had a few. You decide to catch up with her, taking a few shots and pouring a cup of rum. After a while, the cup is empty, and you find yourself sweating in the heated house, filled with warm bodies.

"I'm gonna step outside," you say to Natasha, who is all but preoccupied with the girl in her lap.

You step out front, sighing in relief as the frigid air hits your skin.

"Alright, there?" A voice sounds, you turn to see Wanda standing in the driveway, leaning against her car. "Nasty habit, I know. I usually only smoke when I drink." She holds up the cigarette, letting out a puff of smoke.

You walk over, soaking in her appearance. "I'm alright.. alcohol goes straight to my head," You chuckle and stand in front of her. The alcohol also boldening you to reach out and take the cigarette from her, putting it between your lips. Wanda watches with playful eyes, putting a hand in her pocket. You take a slow drag, blowing into the air between you and handing it back to her.

Wanda wets her lips, shaking her head as she takes it back from you. "You're something else, you know that?" She says in a husky voice. You can smell a hint of vodka and mint coming from her as she leans closer. Your hands rest on her chest, tugging on her jacket. A familiar excitement swells in your chest.

The cigarette is tossed into the wet snow, her hands moving to wrap around your lower back. "I'm probably crazy," you whisper to her, a smirk on your face. Wanda chuckles and leans closer.

"I can deal with crazy," She whispers back, taking your bottom lip in between her teeth. Your blood runs hot, and you let out a small moan at the feeling. Wanda wastes no time connecting her lips to yours, both of you in familiar territory as your tongues sloppily twist together. Her grip is stronger than you remember as she pulls you against her chest.

"Your place?" You mumble into the kiss, not wanting to fully part. Wands hums and continues to kiss you. You feel her lips pull up into another crooked smile.

"Let's go," Wanda says after she finally pulls herself away from your lips, her green eyes darker than you had ever seen them before.

Goosebumps cover your skin. Everything in your body tells you to run. The feeling of your shadow was looming over the two of you.

You look to the house, then to the gorgeous brunette in front of you. There was no doubt in your mind that you would be going home with her.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I left a message on my abusive ex’s memorial page?

🐡🐡 to find

When I was ~16-19, I dated someone (who was 17-20 over that same time period) who was very emotionally and financially abusive. Thankfully it was a mostly online relationship, but during the 2 times we met in person they were also abusive in other ways. I won’t explain any further since it isn’t relevant. They had continued to stalk me after that for some years, onljne and with IRL letters

I recently discovered that they passed away at the end of last year. Apparently my alt Facebook that I had forgotten about which I haven’t used in ages (I stopped using it before we broke up, and it’s been about 5 years since we broke up) was still friended to them, and had received an invitation to their memorial group along with everyone else on their friends list. The only reason I even remembered this account still existed was from going through a very old group chat on Skype and seeing a link to it and going “oh shit I should delete that huh”. Basically all this to say I only found out through a series of complete coincidences.

I’ve had a huge turmoil of emotions ever since I found out. It’s extremely sudden and they died very young. Since I found out late, the funeral had already happened and a lot of messages were already posted to the memorial page.

W/o making this any longer since I’ve probably overdetailed this already, it’s been a couple weeks of a lot of memories I’d rather have been forgotten, and feeling extremely, weird, about the whole thing. My OCD has also latched onto this in some pretty unpleasant ways.

I’ve been considering leaving a message on their memorial page. Of course I wouldn’t talk about their abuse in front of god and grandma and everyone, I’d keep it vague. I wouldn’t be negative, just contemplative. But I feel like it would help my mind finally close the chapter of being affected by them. However, I know the memorial page is supposed to be for people who have positive memories of them. Which I know I don’t. Even without explaining who they are or what they did to me, or even without saying anything negative at all, WIBTA if I did this? I don’t want to intrude on their grieving family and actual friends, I don’t blame any of them for the kind of person they were, I doubt any of them even know.

[tvseries-writings]

Hard choices, hard life

Carina Deluca x Maya Bishop x reader

TW: depression, suicide attempt, obsessive compulsive disorder, pills

At the very sweet age of fourteen, you were diagnosed with depression, right after Diane, your psychologist at the time, diagnosed you with what you still call your cruel companion, a little disorder that was actually slowly killing you from the inside out until just a few minutes ago. In fact, you have nothing to lose now. In fact, a few Tolep, Zoloft, and Xanax will knock you out in a few moments - very few - if only you have the courage to throw them in your stomach right now.

Even though you have nothing left to lose, there are two people you could never hurt, and the mere thought of hurting them makes you sick. Maya and Carina, damn them, have gotten inside you and torn down your walls like no one else ever could. And now, in the utter desperation that drives you to the "extreme act," you should feel guilty, and yet you don't. Maybe it's the pills, or maybe it's the sense of freedom you're feeling that's clouding all your other thoughts and feelings.

Carina was the first to notice your OCD, only a month into your relationship. Although you never tried to hide it from either of your girls, there were rituals that they never had a chance to see, such as touching the faucet knob three times before you could open it, checking three times to make sure that all the car doors were closed, or putting on your seat belt three times before you were sure that you had finally buckled it properly and that this would not result in a potential and very likely fatal accident involving your two girls. In short, Carina had discovered all of this by carefully observing your habits, and after discussing it with Maya, the two of them had confronted you. That evening was anything but pleasant.

As for the depression, they noticed it over time, with the bad days and the dull eyes that worried them so much that they practically forced you to go to weekly sessions with your child psychologist, Diane, who of course immediately put you back on medication on the advice of a psychiatrist Carina knew. In the early days, whenever you were down, it was hard for me to leave you alone, and even though they tried to hide it, you always noticed. Always. It was only after a year and a few months that her fear began to subside. When you think about it, you almost laugh; right now, that fear of a possible impulsive and fatal act on your part would probably be your salvation. Not that you would want that, of course. Or maybe...no, you don't want to be saved. You have hit rock bottom; the decision is already made and the plan is already in place.

Most likely, Carina will be the one to find you, right? She is the first to return to your apartment after work, to the small but comfortable apartment you have been calling home for more than four years—to that little place of paradise where all problems disappear, or at least, they seem to. But, as it turns out, they never completely disappear; otherwise, you would not be in this situation. You close your eyes and lean your head against the bathroom wall; the cold marble tiles send a chill up your spine as you stare at what you clutch in your right hand—a handful of pills that you have been preparing for months now. Many people say suicide is an impulsive act, but for a person with OCD? Nothing is impulsive, not even suicide. Everything is meticulously calculated and planned. You have been planning this day for months—at least three, if I am not mistaken. Of course, it's always three. After all, multiples of three are your favorites, aren't they?

Throughout your life, you have had to make hard choices, but this is by far the most selfish. You are aware of it; you know that Maya and Carina will suffer as they never have; you know it because if either of them died in any way, especially in this way, you would never, ever be able to go on living with such emptiness inside.

A trembling breath escapes your lips; you cannot back out, not now, not when you are so close to the goal. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to them and the burden you are to the world. It sounds self-centered on your part but you don't give a shit anymore. You're tired of thinking about others, how they're going to feel, what you have to say to keep them from feeling bad...you're tired, of everything. You thought you could live for them but you were wrong. But maybe, if you really have to be honest with yourself you probably never wanted to go all the way. After all, a person who does not want to be saved is very difficult to help. When therapy doesn't work, you change, but you didn't say anything; you kept smiling again and again until, today, in the last three months, you let the rock you had tied to your ankle drag you to the bottom. It is no one's fault but your own. You're more than aware of it but it's so hard to keep going, it's so fucking hard that you get sick to your stomach just thinking that, in case you don't take these damn pills tonight, you'll be forced to face the world out there once again. No, you can't do it, you can't. Yet, Carina's look at Andrew's death and the Italian's despair and Maya's heartbroken look and her self-destruction after Dean's death...No! You can't think and you don't have to think about them, about the pain you will cause them and from which they can never move on. You can already see Maya, her head in her hands, sitting on the couch on which so many nights you have spent together, blaming herself for not seeing the signs, for not noticing your clouds; you can already see Carina's tears and hear her screams muffled by the sound of the siren of the truck of the 19’s Station.

A small and elusive tear slips down your cheek, sliding down your chin before falling on the letter you hold in your left hand. The usual "it's not your fault, you have to move on, I love you" letter You're such a hypocrite; you're fucking disgusting. If only you could swallow those pills without thinking about the two of them.

The sound of your phone ringing echoes through the bathroom, startling you so much that the pills you were holding tightly in your hand scatter on the floor.

You pick up the pills, letting your phone ring. Again and again, until, finally, it stops and goes to voicemail.

 

"Hey Bambina, I forgot my keys. I know, I know, you and Maya are always telling me that if it wasn't because I have it attached, I'd be able to lose my mind too, but can you do me a favor? Leave the keys on the door because I'm parking right now and I don't want to ring the doorbell or Max will glare and the neighbors will complain."

A small laugh escapes the Italian's lips as she greets you with an "I love you." God, how you love that laugh.

And, just as Max has heard the voice of his favorite mistress, he joins you in the bathroom and starts sniffing the pills on the floor. You open your eyes wide, awakening from your trance-like state, and shoo him away ungently before quickly picking up all the pills. You hold them in your hand, clutching them as if they were the most important thing in the world, and hide them in your pants pocket.

 

Panic grips your chest as you realize that all your plans are blown and you will now have to start over. You mentally repeat to yourself if you have performed all your rituals: if you have touched the doorknob three times, given Max the kibble by placing it three at a time in the bowl before putting it down, washed your hands for twelve seconds three times after eating, you have done nothing wrong, yet fate has screwed you over, so you must have done something wrong; there is no other way, not for your brain at least. After all, it's hard to reason rationally with OCD.

You don't even realize that you have opened the front door for Carina as you feel that, slowly, your panic attack is taking you deeper. It's one you haven't had in a long time. Your heart almost seems to explode in your chest. You put your hand on it, feeling the force with which it beats against your rib cage. You're so focused on the simple act of breathing that you don't notice Max scratching at your leg to try to get your attention, nor the door opening. Carina enters the apartment, and the smile on her face quickly fades as she sees Max whimper against your leg and your chest rise and fall all too quickly.

Carina lets her bag slide to the ground before letting herself fall to her knees in front of you. Her eyes scrutinize you with concern, trying to figure out how long you have been in this state or whether you hurt yourself unconsciously during the panic attack.

 

"Bambina, look at me." Carina takes your face in her hands, stroking your cheeks gently. "Hey, hey, eyes on me. You need to breathe, okay? Breathe love."

You feel the warmth of her hands on your cheeks, but although you see her lips moving, you don't actually feel anything. The only sound you can hear is that of your heart practically exploding.

You pull away from his touch, and your breathing becomes even faster. His voice comes muffled to your ears.

"No, no, no, hey, hey, eyes on me. Y/n...love, you need to breathe. It's okay; I'm here with you; you're not alone. Bambina breathe."

 

The urgency in Carina's voice makes you barely look up, but your panic attack doesn't stop; in fact, it keeps getting worse. Carina runs a hand through her hair, thinking about what to do and coming up with the only possible solution.

"I'm going to pick you up now, okay? I'm sorry, Bambina, but I have to; it's for your own good."

The doctor takes you in her arms despite your protests, carries you into the bathroom, and puts you in the shower before opening the cold jet by entering with you and holding you tightly in her arms so you don't fall out.

 

The cold jet hits you with the same brutality as that of a high-speed train. You gasp, trying to pull away, but Carina won't let you. She holds you close to her as you come completely out of your panic attack—not until about fifteen minutes under the cold jet, though.

"Here they are, the eyes I love so much," Carina whispers softly against your temple, leaving you a kiss and then covering you with a towel, trying to get you dry as quickly as possible. You let Carina undress you, put on clean, dry clothes, and then begin drying your hair with such a gentle amount of gentleness that it almost makes you cry.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch the bathroom, thinking about how that night should have been different, especially for your girls. Your eyes widen when you see the letter you carelessly abandoned on the bathroom floor, reminding you that Carina might very well read the letter if she only noticed it. That simple and seemingly innocuous thought almost gives you another panic attack.

You jerk up, not thinking straight, not thinking that this strange behavior of yours will draw Carina's attention to you any more than it already did with your panic attack. You bend down, under the confused gaze of the Italian doctor, and pick up the letter, then flush it down the toilet. Your hands tremble as you do so, and Carina notices.

The doctor picks up your wet clothes from the floor and is about to throw them into the dirty, striped laundry basket that Maya was so insistent that you keep in the bathroom, but she does not. Her fingers graze a small bulge in the right pocket of your shorts. The Italian frowns, not recognizing, through her density, the thing to which that small bump is due. So she just sticks her hand in the pocket, and you are far too devolved and paranoid about the letter to notice what she is doing; in fact, you don't even try to stop her. When Carina pulls her hand out of her pocket, your heart leaps and almost seems to stop. The cold water has succeeded in bringing you out of your panic attack but has failed to completely dissolve the pills, much to your misfortune. Carina holds that shapeless, disgusting slop in her hands; it takes her a few seconds to realize it's pills. And though she wants to deny it to herself, it takes her even less time to realize what you were about to do.

 

 

"Please tell me this is not what I think. Please y/n."

You don't have the courage to answer her; who would have any? You feel so stupid right now. Carina starts sobbing, sitting on the floor. You lean your back against the wall and shake your head over and over again, clutching your hair in the fingers of your left hand as if to convince yourself that this is not real. When you do not answer, Carina gets her answer; silence is tacit consent, and you both know this very well.

You kneel in front of your girlfriend; you take her hands in yours, gently stroking her knuckles.

"Car, car, look at me. It's okay, I'm here.”

She shakes her head, reaching out to you and holding you in her arms. As she traps you in her grip, she cannot control the sobs that shake her body.

"I'm so sorry I didn't notice; I'm so sorry, my love..."

"Car, don't say that, please. It's not your fault or Maya's fault; everything is just too much sometimes, often, almost always. And I love you so much, but I can't take it. I don't see any other solution, Carina."

Your voice breaks as you say this; as bad as it is to admit, you feel relieved. You have felt this thought oppressing your chest for so long, and now that you have revealed it, you finally feel free of the unbearable boulder you have been forced to bear for months.

 

Carina remains silent, merely holding you tightly to her and stroking your hair. She hides her face in the space between your shoulder and jaw, inhaling deeply of your scent. The Italian trembles only at the thought that she could no longer have snuggled into your warm embrace if you had done what you intended to do more than an hour ago. With a shuddering breath and without letting go of you, Carina slips her own phone out of the pocket of the tight-fitting Levis jeans that you and Maya both approved of after an intense staring session focused on the beautiful backside of your beloved girlfriend.

 

"Y/n, I know you'd like to do that, but we can't pretend it's not happening. I'd be safer getting you  admitted."Carina freezes when she feels your body stiffen in her arms and your breathing become shorter. "But I don't want you to do anything that doesn't make you feel comfortable, so this is completely your decision. Of course, if you're going to stay at home, we'll have to set some rules here."

Carina whispers in your ear, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes and brush a strand of unruly hair away from your face.

"Whatever you choose, we both know that Maya must be aware of everything you are feeling and happening to you; she better than anyone can understand what you are feeling, Bambina."

 

Carina watches you carefully, and when you open your mouth to protest and to tell her that you don't want to give them any additional weight and that Maya already has a lot to do with her role at the station, she stops you immediately, shaking her head firmly.

"No, this will not be questioned. I will call her now and tell her to go home because we need her. Our jobs are not more important than yours; don't ever think that."

The doctor leaves a kiss on your temple before getting up and leaving the bathroom to make the call. She doesn't close the door; the terror and knot in her stomach she feels at even the thought of leaving you alone won't let her. She is terrified that your mind will get the better of you, especially after today, after a few moments when you were about to commit madness.

The phone call is brief and coincidental; Carina doesn't say too much, just talking about the panic attack. She doesn't want Maya to drive home with the same fear she is feeling right now. As soon as the call ends and Maya assures you of her return to your apartment in less than a quarter of an hour, Carina's arms encircle your sides again, and your embrace squeezes you just as it did moments before. She definitely has no intention of letting you go.

 

A little sneeze on your part makes you both gasp and realize that your hair is still partially wet. Although you insist on drying it yourself, Carina won't let you; she is more than happy to do it for you, and right now she needs to be with you as long as possible. Before you know it, Max is waving goodbye to his favorite mistress as well as his lieutenant.

 

"Hi, boy, where are your moms?" Maya smiles, patting the small German shepherd puppy on the head before heading toward the only lit room. The sight that greets Maya as soon as she enters your bedroom is what makes her dream at night: Carina with her arms around your hips, holding you close, wearing only a white shirt and black lace underwear, spooning you from behind.

"Hey, I'm home. What happened, baby?"

You feel the mattress lower as soon as Maya sits down on it. The blonde firefighter strokes your arm gently and smiles at you. She is worried about you but tries to hide it as best as she can. Of course, both you and Carina notice; the blonde cannot hide anything from you after all these years.

You remain silent, avoiding answering that very difficult question. You are actually very tired and ashamed, not daring to look up and look at one of the loves of your life as you confess to her that missed act.

Carina leaves you a kiss on the temple before leaving her grip on you, though with great effort. You watch her get out of bed and drag Maya out of the room, knocking on the door.

When the light fails so much that you can't even draw the contours of the candlestick over your head, you release the breath you've held up until that moment. You're sorry; you're embarrassed, of course, but not for the reason that your girls might think... no, don't be ashamed to have tried and to want to try; I hate you for not having succeeded. You are so angry with yourself; you are more than aware of the fact that that feeling of freedom you experienced before will never return, not with the burden that now oppresses your chest for the bitterness of being discovered and of not having completed what should have been done instead.

 

 

Silent tears dig your zigoms before ending up on the sides of the pillow; bed covers rise and fall at the same time as your chest. For a moment, just for a moment, you close your eyes and tell yourself that all this has never happened, that Carina has not found the pills, and that you have succeeded in your attempt to eliminate yourself once for all from the face of the planet. But when the light that returns to embrace the room and the light of the door that is again opened make you open your eyes, the dream disappears in the same way that an oasis in the desert turns out to be only a hallucination, nothing more.

You're watching Maya. Her eyes are glossy, her lips are rosy, and she can't stand still, moving her weight from one foot to the other. Carina returns to the same position in which you were before the arrival of the other girl and as soon as she does it, the relief of the Italian being close again and of your warm skin in contact with her makes her relax immediately. It feels like the moment she left the room, she stopped breathing, and now, finally, she can do it again.

 

 

Maya lies in front of you, leans her forehead against yours, and gently caresses your face.

"I would like to take away the feeling of emptiness that you are feeling right now," her whispering words resonate in the room as you are wrapped in the heat emanating from both their bodies. "I wish to be able to do so because I know this burden my love, and it is not something I would ever want to see in you, in either of you two."

Some tears tear her cheeks, but Maya dries them quickly, not because she doesn't want to be weak but because she is well aware that you need all her support right now. She'll cry later, when your eyes are closed in a sweet sleep, and she'll be sure you're still here, with her, with them.

 

 

“I don’t want you to pursue the clouds like I did y/n; clouds can seem beautiful, sweet, and soft, but remember that it’s clouds that carry the stormy, my love, and we can’t lose our sun because I’m afraid that clouds would swallow us up without your light.”

The firefighter caresses your face with the same care and delicacy with which someone handle a brush on a candid white canvas.

Carina is just clinging to you; the knot in her throat prevents her from speaking, but even if you don't have the strength to tell him right now, the confidence that his arms around you give you is more than enough.

A long-held whimper shakes your chest, and your girls tighten you a little stronger, anchoring you to reality and not letting you escape and fly into your shady and irrational mind. You let go to a freeing cry, to whispers and weeping that, though necessary, break the hearts of your soulmates. And they let you blow up; they hold you back; they whisper sweet words followed by small, delicate kisses in your hair, cuddling you like you were a baby in a belt that's desperate as soon as she's born.

It takes more than ten minutes before you can calm down. Carina massages your back, softening the pain of the continuous whispers that have shaken your bones as Maya keeps kissing away your tears.

 

 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don’t think I can do it without  help it’s all too much." You take a break; everything you’re saying is hard to deal with, but say it out loud. Well, that’s a whole other story. “Rituals are killing me; I’m not doing anything without thinking that something might go wrong, that you two might die because I am wrong about some stupid passage of the fucking and-”

"Hey, hey, it's all right. It's going to be all right; we'll be here at every step, Bella. We don't leave you alone; you're not alone, and you'll never be. We won't let you think of reaching the clouds again, okay? Never again,  baby."“Your pain is our pain; your suffering is our suffering, until the end." Carina strings you even more, extending her hand towards Maya to tell her to do the same, and there, in their arms, it seems to you that you are away from all the problems of the world. You just feel like a number in an infinity of numbers; you feel like a thread in a lawn and there's something incredibly reassuring about being just a thread, because a thread is not responsible for all the evils in the world. (Cit. ZeroCalcare)

Thank you for reading! Was it hard to write? Yes, but it is also extremely liberating. I hope it will help some of you. Ah, and of course, have a great day!

P.s: sorry, it’s a very long fic

Taglist: @mmmmokdok @chaekhan @blackhill2245 @melatonindaydreamz @foggytidalwavefun @sevnheaven @budoxinha @gayshyandreadytocry @lighthousekiller @m456300 @blitzar-3 @in-love-with-heda @idontknownemore @lesbianbabe @speedup500 @differentranchempathfestival @mebeingthatbitch @jemilyswife @yuleni18 @whyamihere2673 @reggierizzoli

[exeggcute]

not to be like "I have OCD" but for the past year or two I've been operating under this belief that when things are going pretty well, but like crucially at the precise moment that I consciously identify that things are going pretty well, I immediately feel like something bad is going to happen to balance out. and unfortunately for my pattern-seeking brain this has been "true" every time. because shit just happens, right. but I was recently thinking that I might finally be starting to get a handle on my crohn's and had an uh-oh moment about that, specifically worrying about a health consequence, and then on monday and yesterday morning was feeling pretty fucking great about getting courthouse hitched to my beautiful wife, and had a very big uh-oh moment about that, and then of course now here I am minus one car and plus one concussion. which is still better than one of the specific scenarios I imagined of how in the final season of pretty little liars, toby marries that girl while she's in the hospital and then literally immediately afterward she dies.

[caluski]

i dont think ill ever really come to terms with death being such an abstract thing.. the fact that when someone dies, i can cry and scream and throw fits as much as i want, but it wont bring them back, it wont make them hear all the things i still want them to hear, the fact that its completely irreversible and sometimes so unexpected.... as a kid, i would be absolutely horrified of it, and i couldnt understand why others were so casual about it. it could happen to anyone, anytime, and in my head it really was like having a piano dropped on you like in a cartoon. a lot of it ocd related of course, and i still sometimes get these obsessions where i am absolutely convinced that someone has died because i thought the wrong word in my head or flicked that stereotypical light switch one too many times. it always terrified me how you cant really ever take a breather and feel safe, when it comes to death, not even for a short moment really. inevitable and always there.

[nile-the-empathy-cleric]

Reflections on folk Catholicism, Italian folk magic, and an Italian folk magic inspired candle spell

Over the course of my almost 15 year witchcraft and folk magic journey I have gone from where almost every baby witch starts (cobbled together wicca and unknowingly appropriating closed practices) to working to unlearn all the harmful things I was brought up on. For the past 7-ish years I’ve been reconnecting with my cultural heritage and the folk practices of my ancestors. During this time I learned that there were designated and initiated folk healers in my family, including a living relative who was the go to Malocchio remover. While she is too poorly to teach me, hearing from relatives about her gifts and the type of healing she did gave me a great sense of connection and confidence to practice these traditions. This journey also changed my perspective on Catholicism. Understanding that folk Catholicism and Catholicism™️ are not the same allowed me to see my family’s faith and practice as a sort of animism and devotion to a divine power rather than strict, intolerant dogma with an oppressive ideology.

If you look at folk Catholicism, especially southern Italian, Sicilian, and Sardinian practices, you find that every profession, person, place, thing has a Saint associated with it— not unlike the belief in animism that places and things have their own spirits. You come to learn that folk Catholics worship the Madonna far more than God— paralleling goddess worship. Seeing this helped ease a significant part of my religious trauma. That is not to say that I’m suddenly Catholic again, rather I feel I can safely incorporate the Catholic aspects of my family’s folk healing practice into my own craft without feeling distressed.

Before, I was entirely avoidant of saying the prayers that empowered traditional spells, but recently in a moment of intense panic, pain, and sadness I did an impromptu candle spell and prayed the rosary (much to my surprise). It was almost instinctive… unlike the last time I prayed the rosary for a spell. That time I made a conscious effort to pray for someone who was Catholic using folk Catholicism. This time I found myself intuitively reaching for my rosary and saying the prayers as if I said them every day. I prayed the rosary 3 times as a watched my candle spell burn to completion. In doing so I was plucked from my distress and felt an eerie sense of calm. My mind was quiet and I could breathe.

The day I did this spell I had come upon a horrific car accident on my way home from work and felt traumatized by what I saw. I couldn’t calm down and was spiraling in an OCD loop of violent intrusive thoughts about what might have happened to the person in the car. I kept worrying about them, hoping for an outcome that wasn’t tragic. When I got home the only thing I could think to do was to focus my energy into something positive. So, I sat and decided to do a blessing spell for the person in the car, regardless of the outcome. Now, I’m sharing that candle spell with you (whoever’s reading this).

I used 2 chime candles, one white and one purple for blessing and peaceful energies. Then I ground basil (protection, purification), lavender (peace, rest), chamomile (peace, protection), and red clover (blessing, good fortune) with my mortar and pestle. I anointed the candles with olive oil, dragging the oil away from me. I then rolled the candles through the ground herbs and set them on either side of an amethyst crystal. After lighting the candles I prayed my first rosary. Using my amethyst rosary beads, I circled the candles clockwise 3 times after I finished my first set of prayers. I repeated the rosary and circling 2 more times as I focused on the candles burning and my intent. As the candles melted almost all the way down, I flicked some acqua di San Giovanni onto them for more blessing energy. And that’s the spell. Maybe this will be meaningful for someone other than me. Thank you for reading

[c-kiddo]

tmn are all nd: a bunch o headcanons

(a sequel to these trans headcanons lol)

(also, warning before that this post is about neurodivergency and mental illness, so various mental illnesses will be mentioned. i dont want to single any out here, but you should probably skip this if thats something thats upsetting 2 you)

(also also, this is a infodump and not super in-depth or articulate, so sorry if i worded things wrong because i don’t mean to lol im just bad at reading things on screens so it might get jumbled. . )

beau: she’s got adhd and will hyperfocus and work All night on her theories and notes. perhaps she has audhd, has low-ish empathy and doesnt know how to regulate volume or realise her tone is usually annoyed sounding ksjnjkfs :''') also she has depression n that combined with adhd made her especially impulsive and self destructive, but she’s working on it, getting better :’) also had problems with substance abuse but the cobalt soul (dairon specifically) helped her get out of that. has cptsd because of her upbringing and abuse from her dad 

fjord: he’s got adhd too, babey!!!! also he’s got tourettes and his most common tics are: clearing his throat, a small head tilt, raising his eyebrows and grinding his teeth. he's a bit (a lot) impulsive and him and beau cant be trusted alone together they will get distracted and into trouble

yasha: she's autistic!! mostly effected by th social aspect of it.. like, talking to people is hard and she doesn’t get jokes or sayings and its all just tiring. also has p bad social anxiety. also memory loss from trauma as per canon.. struggles with when she does start to remember things but luckily has a support system so she doesnt just run off on her own like before :')  she also tends to disappear off like that due to sensory overload and just being overwhelmed in general bc of autism

caleb: i mean, he’s autistic n its basically canon. he experiences psychosis and has ptsd n depression/anxiety that has come from his trauma. he already had OCD before trauma and his obsessions revolve around hurting others A Lot, especially with fire after his trauma.. he also has dermatillomania due to ocd and anxiety. also has some sort of disordered eating in a self-punishment way.. .

veth: she has autistic-girlie-who-was-diagnosed-as-an-adult swag .. . and then the substance addiction that often comes with that i guess :''') .. also think she has body dysmorphia of course, especially during her being Nott, and some lingering things after too.. she just struggles to perceive her body for a while.. yeza rly helps ground her back to herself tho so thats nice :' ) . also she ptsd from her own murder + drowning , as per canon

molly: has npd and also he has a traumatic brain injury caused by all the things going on in his brain when his souls leave and he dies and things.. so struggles sometimes to find the right words and with memory and with mood regulation. also experiences psychosis and just, in general, strange things going on in his brain.. . also he likes sounds and textures all the time but will sacrifice th sounds for hanging out with yasha because its 110% worth it to sit with her instead ;w; they sign to eachother sometimes and have a made up sort of language

jester: she's got adhd and it means she loves having 10 conversations at once and spinning around and telling you all about her fave romance novel at lightning speed. she stims like all the time with little objects and ribbons and bells. also accidentaly yells a lot sknfsk and same as molly, likes noise n things all the time, gets kinda anxious or sad without it.. ;-; oh jester,, filling up space with noise so she doesnt have to be in the quiet..im not sure if i have any more thoughts about her rn :o

caduceus: he’s autistic (so overwhelmed by noises and too much all the time, also his empathy is fluctuating and he's not sure how to perceive it.. its confusing, he can be very empathetic and then, sometimes he's just in focus-mode and totally doesnt get at all what the vibes th other person is putting out is).. he’s got (inattentive) adhd. also depersonalisation derealisation disorder. and experiences psychosis since it was triggered by being alone in the grove so long + consuming hallucinogens a lot. he tends to just deal with it and not to tell tmn though, even though most of the time there's some little whispery noise or a fuzzy shape around, he's not scared mostly, only when he's triggered by something... also bad anxiety sometimes that he doesnt know how to deal with so he usually casts calm emotions on himself to help, or the herbs he chews (or smokes) for his joint pain help it. and also, his eating is Disorded but doesn’t quite realise (denial, ignoring it perhaps) the eating habits he has aren’t healthy,... he's just. kinda messed up still from all that time alone.. he had his own odd sometimes nonsensical reasons behind ways he treated his body and some of them stuck. also omg this section is a mile long im sorry,  but also he has dyslexia and dyspraxia and dyscalculia . .. numbers and letters and walking without bumping into stuff is tricky. also thats why his fine motor skills for writing /drawing aren't so good like in canon :-3 

ok,. thee end. good night now u_u zz

[huexuri]

Hello again Xuri, I have a specific request for you if you would write it for me please. Tonight my 9 year old leopard gecko died in my hands who was my emotional support animal for my severe anxiety, depression and OCD, I mean not legally but she always made me feel so much better instantly, giving me way more relief and comfort than any amount of medicine ever could (and I’m prescribed Xanax). Always making me feel like everything was gonna be okay once I had her in my hands or against my chest. And so I wanted to know if you would write about either boyfriend!Yeonjun or boyfriend!Beomgyu (you choose), comforting you after the loss a pet for me please? If you do I’d like it to be mostly fluff and just super sweet with some gentle comfort sex at the end. Again, if you could, I would really appreciate it. Could use a pick me up right now as I feel so empty without my Little Lady (that was my nickname for her). No pressure but thank you if you do 🫶🏻💕

-✨

hey pretty! i'm sosososo sorry for your loss first of all, losing a pet to the heavens is definitely a hard reality to even grasp. even just thinking about the loss of something/someone i love makes my stomach churn with anxiety, so i can't imagine how bad you feel right now. i'm sorry if i answered this late, i'm just less on tumblr for now so yeah i'll write a little drabble for you, and i'll try to make this gender neutral only js this once because i don't know what you're comfortable with and this is dedicated to you, i hope it helps<3 again, so sorry for your loss.

--

NSFW, MDNI!! - short fic

bf!yeonjun comforting you after losing a pet

warnings: gn!reader, bf!yeonjun, soft sex, crying(not dacry), mentions of loss of pet (d3ath), grief ofc, yeonjun comforts u, praise

note: p/n = pet's name

--

"honey, i'm home!" yeonjun shouts to the four walls infront of him as he shuts the door and his keys drop onto the table with a cling. he throws his bag on the floor without a care and takes off his coat.

"y/n?" yeonjun shouts again, but with no avail. he starts to look around the house to look for you, but he immediately stops in his tracks, his face dropping the moment he hears weeping coming from your room.

"b-baby, are you okay???" he frantically walks to your bedroom door, not shouting this time but with a softer, more comforting tone he approaches your doorknob and knocks above it before letting himself in.

yeonjun immediately slams the door behind him and runs to you, absolutely broken sitting on your bed as your tears stain the pillows you've dug your head into.

"y/n?.." your boyfriend settles beside you and pats you on the shoulder as you turned your head away. "what's wrong? why are you crying? please don't cry my love.."

"...p-p/n..." your voice trembled, cracking in between sniffles and hickups.

yeonjun nodded his head patiently, waiting for you to continue your sentence.

"p-passed,,—" you stuttered, unable to continue your sentence without sobbing even louder, burying your head deeper into the pillows. yeonjun immediately sympathized with you, instantly understanding what you're going to say.

"oh god... i'm so, so sorry." yeonjun sat closer to you, giving you a warm hug as you slowly returned it, beads of tears falling onto his collar as your head rests in the very crook of his neck.

"do you want any comfort? perhaps i can make you feel better? a massage, or—"

"i really... need you to pleasure me, p-please.. that's all i want right now," you hug him even tighter, your fingers fisting the back of his shirt and crumpling it.

"oh,... well of course, if that's what you need, i'll do it for you. you just sit back and relax okay?" yeonjun patted the small of your back, kissing you on the lips as he slowly pulled apart from your embrace. he lightly picks you up, settling you in a much more comfortable position lying on your back.

first, he kissed you all over with love as he cupped your cheek and sweeps your pretty tears away. he then kneeled in between your thighs and positioned his already hardening erection at your entrance, dragging your shorts away to the side for access.

he's quick to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants along with his boxers. the cock you've always treated with love presses against the rim of your hole to lubricate it.

"i'm going to put it in, okay? tell me when it hurts or anything like that." yeonjun reassures, you nod your head, looking up at him with your swollen eyes.

yeonjun slowly thrusts in, and you take him inch by inch. it felt like nothing but pleasure, and this was exactly what you needed. nothing could make you feel better but a bit of soft sex with the only person that you know is your barricade — the person who you could always depend on to feel something other than pain for once, the person that never fails to destress you, or the person that never stops hyping you up when you're confident...

yeonjun who you're so grateful to be with, that always makes you feel amazing even when he's not fucking you.

he slowly increases his pace, but no faster than anything that could make you feel hurt. constantly asking you if it feels good and making sure you're not in any more pain than you already emotionally are.

"mm.. you're doing so well my love. you're my pretty baby, you know?" yeonjun smiles at you as he thrusts in and out, heavy breaths escaping the both of you.

"fuck... it feels g-good.." you mutter, this being the first time at your attempt at making a complete sentence since jjunnie came home.

"mmh, feels good baby? that's what i like to hear." yeonjun coos, not in a teasing tone but in a comforting one as he caresses your stomach, mouthing "so good for me," over and over again.

"shit, c-close baby. want me to pull out?" yeonjun waits for your answer as he's panting.

"yeah,," you mumble in response.

yeonjun pulls out, biting his lip as he fists himself over and over again, making sure to aim it at your tummy,

"mhh, fuckfuckfuck—" yeonjun's eyes squint, his lips part slightly,,

with one final pump, he splays his hot cum all over your chest and stomach. yeonjun collapses to lay beside you. his warm hand travels along your torso to hug you.

"thank you for that, jjun." you finally reply.

"i love you okay? don't ever forget that." yeonjun whispers as he digs his head into your hair.

"love you too.." as your red eyelids fluttered shut, and you drifted off to sleep.

--

[catindabag]

Calling it now. “Getaway Car” by T. Swift is the ultimate Lucy Gray x Coryo Snow x Sejanus Plinth theme song. Heck! The bridge sums these three walking disasters up nicely. Just saying~.😗

Let them sing it themselves:

Lucy Gray: It was the best worst of times, the worst of crimes (Hunger Games). I struck a match and blew your Coryo’s mind (by singing). But I didn't mean it, and you (Coryo) didn't see it.

Coryo: The ties were black, the lies were white, In shades of (Lucy) gray in candlelight, I wanted to leave him (Sejanus, inside the Arena), I needed a reason. (Still, Coryo saved Plinth from being killed by Tanner and the gang.)

Sejanus: "X" marks the spot where we (him and Coryo) fell apart. He (Coryo) poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself. (Boy, you trusted Snow like a brother lover.)

Coryo: I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we (three) were cursed. We never had a shotgun shot in the dark. (The Hob Incident.)

Lucy Gray: (to Coryo) You were drivin' the getaway car. We were flyin', but we'd never get far. (They did try to run away.)

Coryo: (to Sejanus) Don't pretend it's such a mystery (why the betrayal happened). Think about the place where you first met me. (Their childhood. The gumdrops!)

Sejanus: (to Coryo) There were sirens (the Paranoia and the severe OCD) in the beat of your heart. Should've known I'd be the first to leave die.

Lucy Gray: It was the great escape.

Coryo: The prison break.

Sejanus: The light of freedom on my face.

Coryo: But you (Sejanus) weren't thinkin' and I was just drinkin'. (Seriously, you, Sejanus were hanging out with freaking Billy Taupe and a bunch of rebels!)

Lucy Gray: While he (Billy Taupe or Spruce) was runnin' after us, I was screamin', "Go, go, go!"

Coryo: But with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow. And a circus ain't a love story, and now we're both all sorry.

Lucy Gray: We were jet-set, Bonnie and Clyde. (SnowBaird trying to run away.)

Coryo: Until I switched to the other side. It's no surprise I turned you (Sejanus) in.

Sejanus: 'Cause us traitors never win. (Coryo betrayed Plinth by recording the rebels’ plan via using a Jabberjay, and Plinth betrayed Coryo by siding with the rebels. We all know Snow hated the rebels a lot, because of the 2 year Capitol siege of a nightmare. His parents and little sister also died because of them, making him a dirt poor orphan. So of course, Coryo felt betrayed by Sejanus’ stupidity actions.)

Coryo: I'm in a getaway car. I left you (Sejanus) in a motel bar at that hanging tree. Put the (Plinth) money in a bag and I stole the keys threw the guns. That was the last time you ever saw me (the past Coryo, before ultimately becoming Snow).

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

wibta if i held an intervention for my cousin?

strap in bc this is gonna be long, but first i need to introduce this little cast of characters: I (26f), my sister (23f) and my cousin (22f) are literally the only young ones in my family. my fathers siblings never married, and i have only my mother's sister (50sthF) who has married and also has a kid. so this made us kind of close since we were kids, especially my sister and my cousin (due to their close ages) were always together. we did live far from each other, and could only meet one or two times in a year.

my cousin and my sister have ocd. i have depression. we all have anxieties. my aunt and my mother both have anger issues, so we kind of can guess what kind of house my cousin is living in. and also from what we could see during our short visits. so yeah, we're all fucked up, but ever since i started therapy and forced my sister to go as well, things started to change. my cousin kept making excuses about money issues, and not really needing any therapy, but her ocd started spiraling down very quickly after her cat got sick last year (we'll get to that soon).

so here's where the problem lies: my cousin has ocd, and needs to constantly ask for approval. she also has severe separation anxiety, to the point that she cant even think about a family member or her cat dying. and see, i get that! we also had beloved pets who died and honestly it still fucks us up, but she is getting delusional about it. god forbid we mention that the cat is now an old lady, or say that shes not as sharp/agile as she was before—this makes her cry immediately. also her ocd is very focused on her cat: she thinks she can carry diseases to her cat, she gets hysterical if we change our clothes near the cats bowl, asks everyone repeatedly if sth unrelated might make the cat sick. shes also of the belief that if someone uses an insect spray, then the poison will stay there till she goes to that place and carries the poison to her cat and making her sick. we kept explaining to her that if the sprays would work like that then we wouldnt suffer from a serious ant infestation for the third year in a row, but as it goes with ocd, she just cant accept it. she only believes what her mother says, and well. her mother gets agitated Very Quickly and they start fighting which makes everything worse.

usually id interfere and tell my aunt to just get along with my cousin as shes going through therapy and medication, and i saw it first hand on my sister that it takes time for ocd to get calmer. its not like oh u started therapy? why arent u already performing like a mentally healthy person?? this is what i suffered from when i first started my therapy. but my aunts main issue isnt her ocd. the ocd is par for the course—the main problem is that my cousin never helps around the house.

we knew this, since we have been together forever, that my cousin never works. she complains a lot, even snaps if u ask her to do two things at once (even if its like hey check the kettle and btw put this glass in the sink as well). and my aunt has zero tolerance for her attitude, which leads to her doing the chore herself and well this kind of encourages my cousin to get away from the chores by complaining. she was like this ever since we were KIDS. she'd play with us and make a mess, but when we were supposed to clean everything shed either not do a thing (saying "i dont know how to" even to simple things like put the thing in the basket) or shed just. vanish. whenever we ate lunch or dinner, shed immediately go to the bathroom, and come out after everything was cleaned and washed. and before u say there might be sth else, it really wasnt. she even admitted to it later. she just didnt want to do a single shit. and well, now that shes older, its getting kind of upsetting. whenever she's alone at home she does NOTHING. and when my aunt comes back from her trip SHES the one who has to clean after my cousin, even tho she has just arrived home. this is why no matter how much she asks us to go stay with her when shes alone, we never go. bc we dont want to clean after her. or when she comes over to our house she just. barely does a thing.

this is taking a huge mental and physical toll on my aunt, bc shes physically disabled (severe migraines caused by a bubble in her head, and recently due to her bad workplace her right hand and arm are also not doing well), and even tho she kind of brought this on herself (but indirectly encouraging my cousins behavior), its still really upsetting. whenever we go to their house, my sister and i try to shoulder a part of chores, bc 1) our aunt shouldn't have to do everything by herself and 2) we were taught to help. my parents never had any tolerance for us slacking off.

cut to last week when we went to their house, and it was a huge war zone. my aunt kept shouting at my cousin for things that werent her fault (like her asking for approval or complaining about sth someone did), and on the other hand my cousin kept dodging the chores, and when my aunt asked her to do ONE thing she kept snapping at her and complaining like it was a huge deal (it really wasnt. example: my aunt asked her to put her clothes which she had already folded and put on her bed away. my cousin snapped at her that she would do it and she should get off her back and then kept complaining that her folded clothes arent bothering anyone and she shouldnt be forced to put them away. this is not an exaggeration.) i also realized that part of the problem with their relationship was how my cousin kept complaining about everything to my aunt, which makes my aunt go insane bc she needs a break from the negativity, but my cousin is very clingy and would call her multiple times a day just to bitch about sth. and hey, i also bitch about things to my mother, but i dont call her that much when shes/im away, and also i try to balance it with good fun stories. i know my cousin isnt like having a very bad life, she just likes to complain about everything. but this, coupled with her insistent need for approval, and her clinginess, makes for a bad recipe.

so, when i finally had a private moment with my cousin, i told her that she needs to do chores, and this would do wonders to the current tension! i said this very gently and very quickly bc i didnt want my aunt to overhear us, and my cousin started crying and nodding and said she would try. this made me feel a bit calmer about the whole situation, until the next fucking day when my grandparents came to my aunts house and my cousin, u guessed, did nothing to help my aunt. at one point my sister found her kissing her cat instead of setting the table, and it made us both extremely mad.

i think that gently talking with her wont do good, bc she'd probably do the same thing again. i feel like i need to be more stern and a little bit harsher to hammer the point home, bc apparently she doesnt understand anything unless its shouted at her. im not gonna shame her or anything, im just gonna say that she needs to a) continue her therapy (which she has dropped for 5 months) b) take her pills regularly (which she doesnt) c) enforce a clear boundary between herself and her mother no matter how close they and d) do the chores. if she doesnt do these stuff, then she wont be able to get any sympathy from me, and my sister. also cant complain about it anymore if she's not going to do any fucking thing to improve her situation.

so, wibta?

What are these acronyms?

[foggyfanfic]

Hey! Any chance you want to elaborate on that AU where Bruno got resurrected and it helped with his OCD and anxiety? Because that sounds incredible and I am incredibly curious now. How did he die? How did he come back? What are the circumstances surrounding all that? Is it in your existing AU with Leandra and their kids? Inquiring minds and all that. (If you want to talk about it of course!)

I would love to talk about it! You’ll have a harder time shutting me up! This one was after all my future fics with Juan, trans!Buba, and Heraldo. It was mostly the vehicle through which I tried to figure out how the Madrigal family will work long term. Because they all have magic, and these amazing magic rooms, I kinda assume nobody is really going to want to move out of Casita, at least not long term or without some big reason. So what does that look like after a few generations? All of the future fics I’ve posted are actually technically flashbacks from this AU before it went completely off the rails and became its own thing.

The idea was that Bruno comes out of the walls and the last half of his life just starts getting better and better. He gets closer to his family, he falls in love, he even ends up with a handful of kids that see him as a father figure. Eventually he dies of old age, peacefully, goes to heaven, and is dead for at least a decade before he gets resurrected by the villain that wants to use Bruno’s gift for evil. In the meantime, the Encanto has become semi-isolationist since the advent of the internet, and are now debating whether they should let the internet into the Encanto or go full isolationist. Mirabel’s youngest granddaughter and Camilo’s youngest granddaughter get led out of the Encanto and to Bruno by the miracle, rescue him, then they have monster of the week type adventures with my super self indulgent self insert who originally existed in the story to provide money, a boat to live/travel on, and explanations on internet safety. She was also there so the Madrigals have somebody to tell family stories too, thus allowing me to play around with the development of the Madrigal family. Right before it went off the rails I also added a great great great nephew who one, was older than both of the great great nieces to illustrate how large and complex the family structure is, and two, had a gift that allowed him to bring the rest of the canon characters in and out of the main plot.

And that was where I should have stopped brainstorming, but I didn’t, and now this AU is how I explore my own anxieties about current events, so it takes place ten years from now, in what is hopefully the worst version of the future, and the self insert OC is no longer a representation of me with better skin and more money, but instead exists so her tragic backstory can serve as a warning of how much life will suck if things go a certain way. But let’s not talk about that! Under the cut is the longer explanation of the Madrigal OC’s and Bruno’s character arc throughout the original AU before it became my therapy. I’m literally just going to info dump the whole thing, because I know I won’t be turning it into a fanfic, so this is probably going to be my longest post ever.

So the three teenagers are Eduardo (Dolores’ great grandson), Etta (Mirabel’s youngest granddaughter) and Maria (Camilo’s youngest granddaughter). Eduardo was sorta the prototype for Gabriel’s character, he has a crappy father, looks up to Bruno as a better role model, and is struggling with his identity in relation to his father’s legacy. His gift is to travel through shadow because he’s trying to escape his dad’s shadow, and unlike Gabriel, he did spend the first part of his childhood trying to be like his crappy dad, so he is now trying to redeem himself for being a bit of a bully. He also has terrible taste in women, that serve as the inciting incident for a few of the “chapters”, like when he gets kidnapped by his fairy princess girlfriend and the other characters have to deal with a DnD type dreamworld to get him back.

Etta is the first adopted Madrigal, so ends up facing a lot of the same emotional struggles as Mirabel. Her mothers adopted her later in life, think mid-forties, when her birth family died due to their well being contaminated. Her birth mother survived long enough to give birth and nurse Etta thanks to Julieta, so Etta is one of many kids named after her. Her mothers entire thing was that they were the first fully out gay couple in Encanto, Etta’s Madrigal Mom was a surprise baby along the lines of Antonio and she grew up close to Isabela and trans woman!Buba, so she knows with absolute certainty that being gay isn’t a big deal, and her family will be normal about it. She wants to marry her wife in a church, so they come out and Mirabel publicly states that if god disagrees with people being gay then he’s free to take the miracle back. They get married, the miracle doesn’t get taken back, and after that more people start coming out instead of just being poorly kept secrets. They wait so long to adopt because people are a little pissy about them “rubbing it in everyone’s face”, but they love Etta endlessly. Her gift ends up being ice powers because she wants to feel like she fits with her mother who has an elemental gift (fire), and her mother ended up with that gift because she wanted to fit in with her much older brothers, who all got elemental gifts because they’re really proud of the triplets thing and wanted to match when they were younger. I just kinda like the idea of Mirabel’s branch having a bunch of people who are so proud to be a part of their family they end up with themed gifts.

Then Maria is one of my two favorite OC’s I’ve ever come up with. She’s the youngest of a ridiculously large brood of siblings, who in turn come from Camilo’s youngest son. Camilo, of course, doesn’t have a favorite grand child, because that would be bad. But Maria does have his wife’s perpetual poker face (cough autism cough), and Camilo’s sense of mischief. It results in a very calm child that is also somehow endlessly chaotic, especially when paired with Etta’s never ending quest to be as helpful as possible. Maria wanted her gift ceremony to be a quiet affair but her parents invited the whole town, so Etta (taking after Mirabel’s gift for leadership) mobilized the cousins into chasing the guests out by making it snow and throwing snowballs at everyone that didn’t live there. Maria tried to cover for Etta by telling the adults she made it snow, and when her father doubtfully asked how she did that she very calmly looked him in the eye and told him in the solemnest voice a five year old can manage “Papá, through Jesus Christ, all things are possible” and Camilo fell out of his chair laughing. Her parents are always a little too busy to give their youngest and quietest their full attention, so Camilo happily takes the little gremlin everywhere he goes. Maria’s gift allows her to look into the past of anything she touches, so she’s a little exposition machine, unlocks tragic backstories, and “tells” most of the flashbacks to various Madrigal adventures. She is bad at the whole people thing, but doesn’t usually care that much, until she meets a pretty girl she likes and can’t figure out how to tell if the pretty girl is also into her. She is also the first seer in the family since Bruno passed, since in this universe seers are the rarest magic users.

Then finally! Undead Bruno! As mentioned the last half of his life is pretty great, and knowing what waits for him when he dies does a lot to reassure him when he’s worried he might be a horrible person. He hit rock bottom, then things got better and he eventually went to heaven, so he now has faith that no matter how bad things get, happiness is still possible. And that’s where he’s at when he gets resurrected. The story would have had three parts, each a reflection of what’s going on for Bruno internally. The first part would be the most light hearted, literally just him getting used to being alive (and relatively young) again, while the narrative establishes the rules of this universe and introduces groundwork for important plot stuff later. Plus midway through part one he would get a diagnosis and start figuring out his medication needs so that combined with the new sense of peace given to him by going to heaven would completely change his life. Part one ends when Bruno discovers the resurrection spell works by sacrificing somebody and essentially giving the dead person their body, which is why Bruno is young again, because the man killed to bring him back was in his mid-thirties. So the second part would be Bruno struggling with that, and low-key trying to find a way to switch back with the sacrifice because Bruno doesn’t hate life like he used to, but he also thinks everybody should get the chance to fully explore it, and he had his turn. In parallel, we’d explore the darker side of this world Bruno has woken up in, and see all the ways magic can create problems. It ends when Bruno discovers he can’t undo the resurrection spell and decides to live as much and as well as he can so at least the life he “stole” isn’t wasted. Then part three is him learning how to go after what he wants as it slowly dawns on him that he’s about to have the chance to do his forties over again. This of course parallels them figuring out what the villain’s plans are and how to stop him.

And this is the part that I love about the Encanto AU version of this story! The villain’s plans and the solution to stop it. So the larger universe of this story is the Disney Universe, y’know. Like the characters go to modern day Corona and Arandelle and such. Bruno goes to the region of France Cinderella is from and meets the descendants of her talking mice and is absolutely thrilled. Things like that. So in the version that’s still an Encanto AU, the villain went to Bruno to get a vision back in the sixties, Bruno did the vision and was horrified by what he saw. The villain on a throne of bones, some of Bruno’s family killed to get there. He wants to make sure the vision doesn’t come true, but of course! Your fate is sealed when your prophecy is read. He has to think fast, try to come up with some way to prevent it, but knowing that’s not possible. Except, Bruno saw the villain doing all sorts of magic, he rolls the dice. He tells the villain that in order to win he’ll have to get his hands on Excalibur, but oh no, that’s a problem because it was destroyed in an evil cauldron. Shucks, guess there’s nothing the villain can do. The villain is like “Bah, with my power nothing is out of reach”, so he does some research, concludes Excalibur was destroyed in the Black Cauldron from that one flop and goes back in time to prevent it. But! Going back in time alters the timeline, changing the future, and erasing the villain’s victory. And then this next part is a little complicated, but because the villain is spurred into going back in time by a future that no longer exists it kicks off a time paradox that the whole world is now stuck in until somebody can figure out some way to stabilize it. New timelines are being created, get to the point when the villain was supposed to take over the world (around now-ish), then fall apart and another timeline starts up in its place. The villain is powerful enough to see through the paradox and is targeting Bruno because Bruno’s the one that robbed him of his victory, plus he figures if he steals Bruno’s gift he can use it to navigate the different timelines being created and destroyed by the paradox, then stabilize the one that’s best for him. The miracle, on the other hand, is some sorta mysterious force that can see through the time paradox and has been trying to figure out how to stabilize the resolution that’s most favorable for the Madrigals. The story ends when they figure out how to do that, defeat the villain, then all go home to the Encanto where my self-insert with better skin and more money pays for them to install the infrastructure needed to bring the internet in, then she spends her life there in a paradise where she doesn’t have to worry about the latest election or the looming threat of fascism, and she teaches classes on internet safety so the Encanto can enter the modern age without sacrificing their way of life. The end, send post.