#past two days i'm being hit with feeling that it's pointless

[wurdulac]

.

[laswells-ashtray]

John never thinks too hard about his childhood, he thinks he's past it. Drunken dad who died when he was a teen, mum who died the day he was born. No point wasting time on that and he thinks he's outgrown that point in his life. Maybe Dad was a bit heavy-handed with the belt but that was more acceptable back then, no need to fuss, and when he compares it to the stories Simon let slip when they both went a little too hard with the drink, he has nothing to complain about.

He never shares any family stories, yeah, Soap will share a story about how he was named after his dad and it sparks a conversation, Kyle will explain the origin of his name proudly, Simon will offer a sparse answer and none of them will ask for any further context. John will offer some half-assed explanation about being named after his old man's old man, someone he never met and never thinks about. Kyle asks him about his mother with a gentleness that can only mean he's noticed that John never talks about her, he offers the classic "never knew her" and it isn't a lie. It isn't. Because he didn't know her, she left earth the same day he made his appearance on it, the value of his life has always been at the cost of another, it's why he makes such a good captain. And he's sick of hearing "oh, I'm sorry" whenever he mentions that he's dead. He's a grown man, he can only hear so many apologies before they become just pointless words that hold no value.

So, it doesn't bother him. Two people he knew are dead, they started the list of countless other names that he doesn't bother thinking about.

And then he comes back from a mission one day, it was a shitshow. Nothing went to plan because their intel was fucked and everyone is frustrated. Ghost had to get stitches in a wound on his arm, isn't the end of the world but it was avoidable. Gaz, the poor fucker is concussed and Soap has the fun job of waking him up every two hours to check on him, a job he was assigned by a medic after they pulled the glass out of his hand. John is almost certain his ankle is sprained, his entire body is a bruise, he lost a good fucking cigar and he snapped at Laswell over comms so he owes an apology that he's planning in advance.

He wants Nik, it might be juvenile but he's tired in a way he can feel in his bones and he wants his pilot.

He finds Nik, he doesn't have to say anything as they head back to his room. Nik knows, Nik always knows. There's the briefest of exchanges as he strips out of his kit and he heads to the shower with the slightest relief knowing that his night is going to end in lazy sex and being stuck under the warm blanket of the Russian bear of a man.

He walks out with damp hair in a pair of boxers and socks because the floor is fucking cold with the constant draft and all but collapses face-first onto his bed. He'll offer Nik a murmured apology later for being selfish but he just isn't sure he can form the words right now.

He can hear Nik kicking off his boots behind him with little care as to where they land, it's a familiar sound from nights like this. He's as relaxed as he's going to get until he hears it, the sound of someone fumbling with their belt buckle. For years it's been just a noise but for the briefest of moments he tenses up in preparation, shoulders raised instinctively to try and block the leather from catching the back of his neck. He's not sure if he's breathing and he can smell whisky, the old fucker must've lobbed the bottle at the wall again and the last dredges of Johnnie Walker red label are soaking into the carpet again. If he doesn't remember to clean it before he goes up to bed then he's fucked, the old drunk will wring his fucking neck just like last time when he-

"John?" The hand on his back is warm as it lands between his shoulder blades, it should be comforting and he should relax into it. He doesn't. He's ashamed of the way he flinches, kicking out a leg as he tries to push himself up the bed and away from it hits him. It's Nikolai. The hand belongs to Nik.

He turns to face the other man, lying on his side and propped up with an elbow. He isn't sure if the sheer mortification he feels is obvious, or the tremors in his hands. He hasn't reacted like that since he was a boy.

"Fuck, Nik. Sorry, just lost in my own fucking head- Sorry, give me a sec and we can get to it." It's humiliating, he's the one who asked for sex and a fucking belt sends him over the edge.

"No, no `getting to it`. We shall continue another night." And there he's gone and done it, his fucking inability to keep his composure has just put a dampener on their sex life.

The cautious way Nikolai reaches out for him hurts, he's being treated like some scared animal. The large hand on his shoulder does act as a source of comfort when he knows who's behind it. "John, перестань. Talk to me, captain."

"I don't- I don't know, just give me a moment." How long can he spend pleading for just a little more time before Nikolai gets sick of it.

"The belt."

He looks up at the Russian with wide eyes, mouth open as he tries to form a denial of some kind, waiting for words that won't form.

Nikolai stares down at him with a look so gentle he has to look away, he can hear the faint sigh of resignation and the following mutter of something Russian that he isn't paying enough attention to in order to translate it in his head.

He sits in silence as the other man joins him in the bed, leaving a gap between that and offering John the chance to cross it on his own time. He shifts over and plaster himself against his partner's side, face buried in his neck.

"I assumed the scars down your back were from torture, just not the military kind."

"From years ago, don't matter much now do they? Taken a lot worse than a belt since then." His body was covered in scars of varying sizes, from anywhere to the scar on his hand from slicing a bagel to the silver band wrapped around part of his left thigh from a bastard with a blade that damn near nicked an artery. He'd stuck that poor sod's blade through his own throat and left him to gurgle on his blood.

"I assume your father is dead?" The fact that Nikolai sounds hopeful isn't lost on him.

"Drank himself into oblivion years ago." John had always thought it would've been his liver that did him in, would've bet money on it. Would've lost too. The old man had asphyxiated on his own vomit, silly prick.

"Good."

[scarletssienna]

I'll Never Let You Go

Summary - Your fights with Wanda were unusual, but often recently. Misunderstanding was bound to happen. When things with Wanda get too difficult you seek comfort in someone else's embrace. 5k word count

Warnings - Hurt-Comfort, angst, mommy Wanda, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamics, mean Wanda, grinding, pinning, Natasha comforting, fighting, face-slapping, jealousy, talk of threesome, talks of consent

AN - Part two of the mini-series. Part one here. Surprisingly no real smut in this chapter. Don’t worry, you’ll get your fill-in the next one. Some insight into their fighting as well as what happens after R left ;)) The next chapter will probably be the last in this series! Feel free to hit me up in my asks with thoughts/ideas/requests though! :))

18+, minors + men dni

Two weeks ago

“Detka. I have had enough.” Wanda exclaimed as she angrily tossed the sponge into the sink, turning to you with wide eyes. Her jaw was slack as she looked at you, her eyebrow raised and one hand on her hip as she expected you to understand what was bothering her. You dropped your spoon back into your cereal bowl, looking quite confused at the sudden anger, choking down your bite of frosted flakes. Before you could ask what was wrong, she decided to tell you. “You have been sitting there, chomping loudly enough for the entire neighborhood to hear you eat that for the past what?! 20 minutes?!” She exclaimed in frustration as she dried her hands on her robe, bringing her hands to hold her forehead in pain, grumbling under her breath. You knew it wasn't about the cereal. Her head had been killing her for the past few days. She had just been covering up the sickness with anger. She pressed her palms to her eyes, holding them firmly.

“I’m sorry Wands,” you said as you stood up, dumping the rest of the cereal down the drain as you took over the job of washing the dishes. When you finished the dishes she was still standing there, leaning up against the counter, her head buried in her hands. You walked over cautiously as you gently placed your hands on her hips, sliding them up slowly to her waist. You leaned closer and kissed her temple. “Maybe you should take a break from work?” You suggested tenderly as you rubbed her sides softly. “You've been working so hard lately and deserve a break. I can stay home with you - run you a bath and-” 

“I should take a break from work?” She interrupted you with a scoff. She pulled her hands away from her eyes and put them on your wrists. “Yeah, suddenly you're the one to talk about when to take a break when I've been telling you to for the past like,” she grumbled not knowing exactly how long the fight was as it was truly pointless. “Forever.” she pushed your hands off her waist and stepped away. “Don't touch me, I'm gross and haven't showered.” She said as she walked towards the cupboard, grabbing a glass of water. You rolled your eyes as you watched her move around the kitchen aimlessly. She never knew how to accept comfort when she wasn't feeling good. She didn't know how to let herself just be taken care of. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled under your breath as you went to get your shoes and jacket on to leave for work. You walked into the kitchen again to tell her you were leaving. She hadn’t expected you to come back in because she was leaning face forward on the counter this time, her head buried in her arms as she mumbled in pain. “I won’t be home until late tonight.” You stated, causing her to startle and stand straight up. “Don't wait up,” you told her before contemplating walking over. You always kissed her goodbye, but it didn’t seem like she wanted that today. 

She rolled her eyes at you saying you wouldn't be home until late again tonight. It had been like this for the past 3 weeks. You would either plan on being out late or accidentally get her hopes up by saying you would be home but leaving her to sit alone at the dinner table with the meal she prepared for the both of you. She had truly grown to just expect it at this point. She walked over and grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling you into a fast kiss before retreating upstairs. Although she was upset she always made sure to kiss you goodbye. She feared that one day she wouldn't and you would die or something gruesome and she just couldn't risk her chances. 

With the deadlines for the end of the year approaching you were at work much too often lately. Not that she was any better to be fair. It seemed anytime one of you was home the other would be off working. It wasn’t ideal and you felt guilty about being gone so often. It would be better in a few weeks.

That night you were surely tied up in your office,  paperwork surrounding you in scattered piles. You rubbed your forehead and looked over one of the files on your desk, tapping your pen on the desk. You glanced up at the time, grumbling as you saw it was nearly midnight and you were nowhere near done for the night. When you heard a knock on the door you startled at the sound. Everyone had long left the office and you and the security guard were the only ones that usually remained at this hour. When you looked up, your eyes met with a familiar redhead. Natasha smiled at you before biting her bottom lip softly. 

“I figured I’d find you here still.” She licked her lips and shoved a hand in her pocket. “Can I come in?” She asked with a little chuckle and smirk on her face. 

“Yeah for sure!” You said, just happy to see anyone at this point in the night. You shut the file in front of you and pushed your chair back slightly. You pushed your glasses off your face, resting them on the top of your head as you looked up at the girl who wandered over to your desk. “What are you doing here?” You asked as you looked up at her. She stood on your side of the desk in front of you, leaning slightly against the desk. 

“Oh, you know. I can never seem to remember everything I need when I leave. Makes me come back at odd times.” She said with a laugh as she set her file on top of your pile of stuff. You giggled and bit your bottom lip slightly, sighing at how late it was. You brought a hand to your mouth as you covered up a yawn. “Boring you already huh?” She teased and reached out, taking your glasses off your head and setting them on the desk. Her hand brushed your cheek softly before sighing and leaning back a little further on the desk, her hands bracing her on either side of her body. You blushed a little at the action and quickly turned your face away, looking towards your desktop as you typed a few more things into your document. “You know, you should be working less. These long hours aren’t good for a pretty girl like you.” She said as she looked into your eyes. You avoided eye contact and scoffed a little.

“You sound like Wanda.” You murmured, glancing up at her with a little smile before quickly looking away. 

“Oh, do I now?” She asked with a smirk as her hand reached out, spinning your chair so that you were facing her again. “Sounds like the little witch may be right then.” She stated, causing you to roll your eyes, a tiny grin on your face. 

“Be nice.” You warned. There was something about Natasha that drew you in. You could never go for it though. You loved Wanda more than anything. It would be stupid to do anything to put that in jeopardy. Unfortunately, your girlfriend seemed to pick up on it slightly. And even more unfortunately Natasha did as well. And she wasn’t good about helping negate those feelings. She reached down and pulled your chair closer to her as she leaned down. 

“Yeah?” She grinned. “Or what?” She asked as she raised her eyebrow slightly. Her hand reached underneath your chin. “You’ll spank me?” She teased, knowing you could never. Your breath hitched in your throat slightly and your face turned a bright red as you pushed your chair back, quickly standing up to put some space between you. She got the hint and backed off slightly, reaching for her folder. “Let me take you home at least?” She offered, walking around to the other side of the desk. “Being here too long is…dreary.” She said with a furrowed brow and a tone of dramatics. You nodded and rubbed your face before collecting a few files to bring home. You liked to walk to work and back. You found it peaceful and it wasn’t all that far. It was a little too late tonight to be walking alone so you agreed.

“Fine, but you keep your hands to yourself and the teasing to a minimum.” You warned and pointed a finger at her before collecting your bag and jacket. She just smiled and walked with you to her car. The drive home was fairly quiet. There was little small talk every once and a while but it was a short drive and it wasn’t long until you were home. You said goodbye before going inside. You were always quiet with the lock when you got home, not sure where Wanda would end up for the night. You locked the door behind you and discarded your jacket and bag, hanging them in the closet by the front door. As you crept into the room you smiled as you saw Wanda curled up on the couch, snuggled up under a blanket, a random sitcom playing on the TV. It was all ignored though as she slept through it. You walked over and reached for the TV remote, flipping the TV remote off. As silence filled the air you sighed, watching her so peacefully. You leaned down kissing her forehead before carefully picking her off the couch. She stirred and her eyes opened slightly, her bright but tired green eyes looking up into yours. 

“Detka.” She murmured as she wrapped her arms around you, assisting in the carrying to make it easier as she nuzzled her head on your shoulder. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” You whispered with a smile, leaning down to kiss her softly as you paused on your walk. She hummed into the kiss. 

“Bed.” She whispered and poked your nose with a smile before closing her eyes again. You laid her on her side of the bed, a blush covering your face that was luckily hidden by the darkness of the room. You covered her up and kissed her forehead. She held onto your arms when you attempted to walk away, a confused look forming on her face. 

“I have to get ready for bed, silly.” You whispered and she sighed, slowly letting go to let you get ready. She stole your pillow, pulling it between her arms tightly as she turned onto her side. You smiled at the sight and quickly moved into the bathroom, getting ready for bed as you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be in bed with Wanda. When headlights lit up your window Wanda sat up slightly. She frowned when she saw Natasha’s car peeling out of the driveway and driving down the street. Why she took so long to leave was unknown but all it left was this pit of self-consciousness in Wanda’s stomach. She has quickly and wrongfully assumed you were out so late because you were with her. When you came back to bed you crawled in bed next to her, scooting up and pressing your body against hers from behind. You wrapped your arms around her closely and rested your head on her pillow.

“May I have my pillow back, darling?” You asked gently as you rubbed up and down her side softly. She shook her head, squeezing it tighter to her chest. You let out a tired chuckle when she shook her head and pulled her closer, kissing her neck. “I guess that just means I’m going to have to be closer to you tonight huh?” You teased, referring to the fact that the two of you would be sharing a pillow. She let out a hum as an approving response before closing her eyes. You placed one more kiss on her neck before closing your eyes as well. You fell asleep, holding the girl close to you. Unable to sleep, Wanda's quiet tears were muffled into your pillow. She couldn’t understand why you would be out with Natasha so late, again, instead of being home with her. She felt as if it was her fault and she grew to become extremely self-conscious about it.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning Wanda woke up upset. She just snuggled closer to you as she waited for you to wake up. Typically she would get out of bed and head to work early but this morning she needed the extra time with you. When you woke up you were surprised to see Wanda awake, lying on your chest, her fingertips tracing patterns on your stomach. 

“Good morning.” You whispered as you lifted your head slightly to kiss the top of hers. Instead of continuing with the customary response Wanda decided to jump right in. 

“You’re always out with Natasha.” She complained, not even looking up at you. You sighed, quickly catching the mood she was in. 

“Uh,” you started, confused about where the sudden accusations came from. You went with it anyway. “I mean sometimes, yeah? But I’m also working all the time lately I mean I don’t have the time to be out with her.” You said as your forehead wrinkled in confusion. You brought your hand up to her hair running your fingers through it carefully before massaging her scalp. She grumbled and sat up, turning to look at you. 

“Notice how neither one of those things is being with me?” She asked as she pushed your hand away and sat up. You wanted to giggle at how dramatic she was being but you were lucky you didn’t as you realized she was genuinely upset. 

“Wands, what’s up?” You asked as you propped yourself up with your elbows. She grumbled and rolled her eyes at your question, assuming why she was upset was blatantly obvious. She moved and straddled your lap. You automatically reached up to put your hands on her thighs but she swatted them away and instead held them by your sides.

“She’s like, obsessed with you or something.” She complained as she pressed your wrists to the bed, silently telling you to keep them there as she pulled her hands away and moved them to your stomach, pushing your shirt up. You got the hint and kept them still but your face wriggled into a frown. 

“Come on she’s not obsessed with me.” You said, looking away as you thought back to last night. It was purely situational and she had just been in the area. Remembering the teasing and little bits of flirting Natasha had put out there, maybe you needed to reconsider that idea slightly, and maybe you needed to leave that part out to Wanda. The girl above you took it into her own hands though and with a raise of her hand, her eyes glowed red. When you looked back at her and noticed her you quickly reached up, grabbing her hands. “Wanda!” You frowned, now upset. “Stop using your powers on me.” It was your turn to complain now but she ignored you. Her eyes turned back to normal and she ground her hips against you, pinning your wrists back to the bed, now above your head. 

“The little witch may be right. You are working too much.” She scoffed as she began reciting some of the words from last night. “Or what? You’ll spank me?” She grumbled repeating the line as her hips ground against you, suppressing a moan. “Keep your hands to yourself.” She squeezed your wrists tighter. “Why?” She asked, stopping her movements as she looked into your eyes and raised her eyebrow. “Does she not keep her hands to herself?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes at what she was doing. 

“Wanda get off me I’m not in the mood.” You said firmly and seriously as you looked up into her eyes. She let go of your wrists with a grumble and moved to sit next to you. “Nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen.” You said as you stood up, rubbing your wrists. “Ever.” You said before disappearing off into the bathroom, leaving her on the bed alone. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Now

Running away was your specialty. Anything that got too hard or scary, you ran. The unknown was big. How were you supposed to act and behave if you didn't know what would come next? You could handle the unknown when you felt secure with Wanda. She always seemed to know what to do. Her security pulled you in. It all had disappeared lately and you were in search of it once again. Tearful, you knocked on Natashas' door harshly. As you waited for her to answer you grew self-conscious. Suddenly aware that you were standing outside her door, dressed in Wanda's shorts and hoodie, not wearing a bra. Remembering last night you assumed there were probably marks on your visible body as well. You crossed your arms, turning a bright shade of red when Natasha opened the door. The sun was just beginning to creep above the horizon which made her face glow. 

“Hey…?” You spoke softly and your voice cracked as tears began to fall once again as you saw the confusion on Natashas' face turn to concern. She quickly pulled you inside and made fast work of trying to comfort you. 

“Detka…what's wrong?” she spoke gently, the nickname falling all too easily off her tongue. Instead of saying anything you practically fell into her embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around her as your head tucked down and rested beneath her chin, tears falling rapidly as you sobbed. Seeing your state a ping hit Natashas' chest as she suddenly got nervous. “Did she hurt you?” There was hesitation in her voice yet she was firm in finding out the answer. You gasped at her question, the idea of Wanda ever even laying a hand on you non-consensually, was unfathomable to you. Shaking your head quickly she sighed a breath of relief as she shut the door, gently guiding you inside. You clung to her tightly and she awkwardly moved the two of you to her couch. She sat down before pulling you gently next to her. You didn't take much prompting as you practically sat on her, clinging tightly. She began to rub your back up and down in an attempt to quiet your sobs. While they slowed they never ceased completely. Her hand slid gently under your shirt and rested on your bare back, trying to continue the movements when you stopped her. 

“No.” You murmured as you lifted your head for a second looking into her eyes. You reached behind your back, placing her hand back on top of your shirt. You wiped the tears from your face with open palms and sniffled before laying your head back down. She got the hint and continued her slow patterns up and down as you calmed down. When your sobs calmed and turned into quiet sniffling she finally attempted to ask what was wrong. 

“Detka…” she tried again, and you grumbled snuggling closer. 

“Don't call me that.” You said firmly and pulled your phone out, declining a call from work as you set your phone on the coffee table next to you. You sniffled and buried your head in the crook of her neck, closing your eyes. Natasha, at a loss of what to do let you stay in that position. When she felt you drift off to sleep she smiled a little at the sight and pulled you closer. Just after you fell asleep your phone began to ring, Wanda. Asleep, you had no idea. Natasha had to decide, she took a second. She hesitated as she reached over to the coffee table. When she saw who was calling her eyes flickered back and forth between you and the phone. She slowly set the phone upside down, ignoring the call. Unbenounced to you Wanda was growing increasingly worried and anxious at you being gone. She had taken up pacing back and forth between the living room, her phone held to her ear as she dialed your number repeatedly. After the tenth call with still no response she had an idea of where you had been. Despite how she seemed, she wasn't angry. She was scared, scared something had happened to you. But also confused. What had she done? Above all the familiar feeling of self-consciousness grew in her chest. Ignoring everything in the house she tore through to the door. As she got closer to Natasha’s house her concern grew, her power setting off nearby car alarms. 

When the phone calls ceased and the lights flickered in the house Natasha knew Wanda was nearby, and upset. The door flung open, breaking the hinges with a loud bang. You startled awake at the loud noise, a loud gasp leaving your lips. In a panic you sat up, your attention immediately drawn to the front door, Wanda, standing in the doorway. 

“What is going on here?” She demanded firmly as she stalked over to the two of you on the couch, unnecessarily close. This wasn’t Wanda anymore. This was Mommy. Her tone was demanding and firm, but it had a sweet sultry tone that dripped as she spoke. You’d always noticed the more worked up Wanda got, the more her accent came through. This was surely one of those times. When neither of you answered fast enough to her liking she asked again. “I asked a question.” She reached out her hand. You had expected her to touch you, to grab your chin. Instead, she reached towards Natasha. Her fingers gently reached under her chin, lifting it slightly as she made deep eye contact with the other girl.

“She came here this morning!” Natasha stuttered quickly. “She just fell asleep!” She explained with an urgency and demeanor you had never seen from her before. You watched the sight before you, surprisingly curious as you tugged your bottom lip into your mouth. Wanda’s hand raised from off her chin before delivering a slap to Natasha’s cheek. Natasha yelped at the hit, causing you to flinch. You could feel the tension as the two of them interacted. Wanda’s hand gently rubbed and soothed where she had just hit as Natasha leaned into her touch, her legs pressing together in anticipation. The sight in front of you made you squirm. You physically felt your breath hitch in your chest when Wanda leaned forward and kissed Natasha. There was no jealousy behind your eyes as you watched the two of them, their kiss becoming more heated by the second. You squirmed next to them, your legs pressing together as you gnawed on your bottom lip, waiting impatiently in anticipation for your turn. When Wanda finally pulled away her breath heaved slightly as she caught her breath. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Wanda said as she stood up and smoothed out her shirt. “Natasha, you are going to go to your room and wait for us in bed. We are going to have a little chat then join you up there. Okay?” She said it in a tone that sounded as if she was asking but she wasn’t. Natasha just nodded and glanced at you before carefully standing and quietly heading to her room. When she left you looked up at Wanda with wide innocent eyes. 

“Mine.” You mumbled as you grabbed Wanda’s hand, tugging her down into a passionate kiss. She straddled your lap happily as she kissed you back, her tongue wasting no time as it brushed against your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You happily obliged, allowing her tongue to take control. “Mine.” You mumbled again, into the kiss this time as your hands reached around her waist, squeezing her sides lightly. 

“Yes, all yours Detka.” She said as she slowly pulled away from the kiss. She dragged her finger across your jaw, tracing her fingers across your face. It was as if she was trying to memorize it. As if you would disappear in her fingers at any second. Her breath grew shaky as tears brimmed her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She took a second, closing her eyes for a second before opening them, a fresh tear falling slowly but beautifully down her cheek. “You left this morning.” She said in a whisper, any louder, she feared would break her. “Why?” In the second part, she spoke even softer. Each word felt like a chore as it left her body. You felt your blood rushing in your ears, just as it always did when you got anxious or scared. Your hands reached up gently holding her face. Your thumbs brushed across her cheeks, wiping away the tear that had fallen as you kissed her cheekbone tenderly. 

Your jaw shook as you opened your mouth to speak. “I left before you could.” You said, in a level just above a whisper. “I left before you could remember how mad we were.” You paused, sucking in a quick breath, the noise in your ears getting louder. “How mad you were.” You admitted quietly, the guilt and setting in for what you had done. Wanda frowned, her eyebrows crinkling ever so slightly twisting into an even sadder expression.

“You think I’m going to leave you?” She asked as her fingertips paused on your face. “Detka I would never.” She assured. “I’m not mad at you.” She smiled sadly. “I mean, I have been mad.” She admitted carefully. “But only because I’m scared.” She looked away, breaking eye contact for the first time since the conversation started. She pulled her hands away to wipe her face. “Scared you’re going to leave me. For her.” Wanda said quietly as she glanced at the stairs and then back to you. You couldn’t shake your head quick enough. 

“No!” You exclaimed quickly, a little louder than either of you had expected, causing a sad giggle. “Wanda no, no, never. I love you so much. I just.” You stuttered out of shock. “Absolutely not.” You said as you brought your hands back to her face, turning it towards you. “Wanda, you are the love of my life. I can never even imagine leaving you for any reason, let alone another woman. I don’t even want to imagine it!” You sniffled before leaning closer and resting your forehead against hers. 

“I love you too.” She whispered before kissing you. It was a tender kiss, sweet, and simple. She pulled away for a second and chuckled breathily as she wiped your tears away. “Stop crying and kiss me Detka.” She whispered with a little smile before kissing you again, more passionately this time. 

After several minutes of kissing you remembered to Natasha upstairs. You paused, pulling away and pressing a finger to Wanda’s lips. 

“Natasha?” You whispered with a question in your voice about what was going to happen in that situation. Wanda seemed to have an idea. Her hands snaked under your sweatshirt slowly and she kissed the tip of your finger. 

“I think it would be good to get the temptation out of the way.” She admitted, her hands rubbing your sides as they moved upward. “I also think it would be good for me to gain a little control in that whole situation.” She said, a small smile coming across her lips. “How do you feel about that?” She asked it was a genuine question and she was looking for your honest response.

“I like that idea.” You said as a dark blush crept across your cheeks. Wanda hummed happily when she heard your response. 

“I expect you to use your safe word if anything crosses any lines. Okay?” She said firmly as her fingers stopped beneath your bra, she needed you focused for the rest of the conversation. You nodded quickly at her instruction, trying not to get too distracted by the thought of what was about to happen. “Is there anything different you don’t want happening in there?” She asked and you thought for a second. Your face blushed even darker and your head fell to her shoulder in an attempt to hide it. You nodded a little and she slid her hands down your sides, needing to know your thoughts. You were embarrassed to admit them but she prodded anyway, knowing it was necessary. “Detka. What is it?” She asked, letting your head stay where it was if it would make it easier.

You hesitated before quietly admitting it. “I don’t want her mouth.” You paused and built up further courage. “I don’t want her eating you out.” You stated a deep red blush on your face at having to admit that out loud. She didn’t laugh at you as you had expected though. Instead, she smiled understandingly. 

“That’s yours huh?” She asked with a smile, causing you to nod on her shoulder, your face nuzzling into her neck as you began to place soft kisses on her sensitive skin. “Anything else?” She asked, knowing she would have control of what went on up there and could set her boundaries for herself. When you shook your head she hummed, pleased. You pulled back and kissed her again, sighing happily into a kiss. You found yourself distracted by Wanda’s hands trailing up your shirt again. Suddenly you pulled away with wide eyes and began to laugh. Wanda looked confused before realizing it. 

“How long has she been waiting up there?” You asked between giggles as you covered your mouth at the realization. 

[alexanderwales]

The Digital Corpse

I always read about what school shooters or wannabe assassins have to say. I read or at least skim through manifestos, most of which are really poorly written and usually just have badly misunderstood ideas that are copy-pasted from diverse places. I read social media posts and discord logs, where available. Some of this is morbid fascination that I don't endorse, but some of it is the impulse to understand how and why a thing like this happened.

So I've been following the news on Trump's would-be assassin, and to all appearances he was just a kid who was bullied at school and didn't have a lot of hobbies, skills, talents, or friends. He wanted power and control and had no way to get it, and I think there's something to the notion that a lot of white men think that their whiteness or maleness means they're owed something. When Trump came to town, it was opportunity falling into his lap. If you're 20 years old and feeling like the world cares nothing for you, then yeah, I can see why you'd take your shot. It's a way of being famous, of going out with a bang, and young men often feel invincible anyway. The shocking thing is that it almost worked, and that seems to be down to incompetence and complacency.

But if it had worked, and they hadn't immediately shot him to death, he'd have gotten all the worst parts of fame (in addition to what would probably be life in prison). In death he's got intense scrutiny of everything he's ever posted online. There are reports about how sad and lonely he was. If he'd succeeded, maybe there would be some on the left who would idolize him, but as it stands ... I can imagine wanting to be megafamous, but I cannot imagine wanting it to be like this. It was almost certainly different in his imagination though, a grand moment that would give meaning to his life and demonstrate that he did, in fact, have power.

And of course the whole thing will be forgotten in a week or two. A year from now you'll say the name "Thomas Crooks" and people will say "huh, that ... do I know that name?"

On the other side of things, there's Corey Comperatore. He was the other person to die that day, just a random guy who had attended a Trump rally and got hit by a bullet because from one specific angle he was standing behind Trump. If Thomas Crooks left almost nothing behind to make sense of his life, Corey Comperatore left behind what feels like a lot. The fame is more double-edged. He's lauded as a hero by some, even if the only thing he did was catch a stray. Generously, that's a way of making sense of things: just like it's not enough for Crooks to be alienated and dejected, it's not enough for Comperatore to just be someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But Corey Comperatore is also having his life torn open, or at least the parts of it that he put online. Posting online was something he probably did without thinking too much about it. The worst one, for me, was him saying that the Palestinians would "get over it" like the Japanese did. It's something I think about a lot in the social media age, the picture that people would get if they went looking through all our posts, if they were trying to make a picture of you from the things you've left behind. If you died in a very public way, what's the worst post you've ever made? What would people find ironic? But of course you don't need to die, we're in an era where anyone can get flash famous by random happenstance. And of course in the modern day we want the delicious little morsels, the worst thing you've ever said, the most ironic, most iconic, most infuriating sound bite that can represent a whole person. Anything more anodyne is pointless, even if that's the bulk of someone's life.

I'm probably a little unusual in terms of digital fingerprints. I'm active on discords, I've written some four million words of fiction, and my reddit comment karma is in the six figure range, which probably means that I've got something like fifty thousand comments. I talk a lot. But I do think about being torn apart like that, what would happen if I were famous for a day before the news cycle moved on, if there were hundreds or thousands of people trying to make sense of me.

When I die, if anyone has reason to go snooping through my history, I hope there's a good-looking corpse.

[slayfics]

Muichiro’s Mansion

Muichiro x Reader series

Mitsuri joins a training session with you and Muichiro.

Chapter 5

Mitsuri joined you and Muichiro to observe your training session for today. You suddenly felt extra nervous with two Hashira’s watching you.

“Just pretend I'm not here ok!” Mitsuri said smiling and sat down under a tree to watch.

“Come at me.” Muichiro stated.

You were taken back. The past few weeks you have just been swinging your sword and hitting a dummy. Muichiro had never asked to spar with you yet. He stood in place waiting for you to make a move. You took a deep breath then ran towards him and just before you would have struck him you slid under between his legs to confuse him and then attack from behind.

Muichiro had never seen you fight before but he seemed to instantly catch on to this move and was not deceived by your movements.

He stood in place but when you turned to face him, he had the sleeve of your uniform in his hand.

“Too slow. If I wanted to kill you this wouldn’t just be your sleeve.” He stated tossing the sleeve on the floor. “That is a risky move and you’re not experienced enough to pull it off. Don't do that against a demon.” He stated.

You sighed and looked at the floor. You didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to take this berating day after day.

“Tokito! Don’t be so rough on her!” Mitsuri yelled. She stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “Can’t you think of one thing she did well?”

“Of course I can.” He replied.

“Well then tell her! You can’t just tell someone all the things they are doing wrong day in and day out! How she is supposed to stay motivated! Try to say something nice at least once a day, ok? Boosting self-esteem helps demon slayers get stronger!”

“That sounds pointless. It’s what she’s doing wrong that needs attention. That attack was to slow and put her in a vulnerable position. I barely had to move at all to strike. She’s slow and clumsy and it’s been this way for weeks now.”

That was the final blow you were able to take. You ran before thinking about your actions. You knew you couldn’t hold back your tears and you didn’t want to cry like a child in front of two Hashira. You kept running till you were far enough away to have some privacy and began to cry. It felt hopeless you were trying so hard but apparently weren’t getting any better according to Tokito. All you wanted to do was be stronger and make him proud but the past two weeks you were beginning to feel he regretted accepting you as his Tsuguko.

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest and hid your face. Should you just tell him you quit and save the embarrassment of being asked to leave.

“Hello.”

You jumped and turned to see Muichiro standing behind you. You quickly turned back around and began to wipe the tears off your face.

“May I join you.” He asked. You nodded still not sure you could speak without letting out more tears.

“Why do you cry?” He asked.

“I know you regret taking me in as your Tsuguko. You don’t have to tell me I'll pack my things and leave. I’m sorry I tried hard to make you proud, but I know I'm no good. I’ll train harder on my own then hopefully be good enough to be taken in by another Hashira. I didn’t mean to waste so much of your time.” You said tears falling in between.

“I see.” Muichiro said and stared off into the distance. “You are a brilliant swordsman. Did you not know this?”

You felt like maybe you might have passed out in the forest somewhere. There is no way Muichiro would be saying such kind words to you after the weeks of belittling you went through.

“But you… never have anything nice to say and it seems like you hate me.”

“I comment on what needs improvement. Isn’t that why you came to me, to improve?”

“Yes… I suppose that’s true.”

“And I do not regret taking you in as my Tsuguko. I never once said that.”

“You turned me down twice, it was hard not to assume you might be regretting saying yes the third time.”

“I denied your request twice because I do not remember becoming a Hashira. What good is a teacher that doesn't remember their own journey, and I have never had a Tsuguko before. It appears we both have some things to learn. I will comment on your skills that I notice from now on. Of which I have noticed many by the way. You should also know I feel honored that you fought so hard to be my Tsuguko. Thank you.”

[schismusic]

Thoughts about my old band, Tim Hecker, people I (don't) like

My old band was called M[redacted]. Let's pretend for a second we can say that with an absolutely straight face and move on.

I stumbled into two other people's project and about seven years later everyone involved stumbled out of it, just as ungracefully, in the quietest way our pachyderm feet allowed us to. I - again: all of us, really - wanted an outlet to attempt to make music, maybe more to scratch an itch than anything else. I'm pretty certain I was more than prepared to just leave it behind as soon as it had lost its bang, until it suddenly felt like I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. To an extent, I guess at its worst I felt like I could have been the only person in the band who actually wanted to write songs more than anything else. It obviously wasn't true, but shit just got stuck for years on end.

I was listening to Tim Hecker earlier tonight, like I did on many a night while still in Meeting Meat, usually sulking because "nobody gets what I want to do with the band", not realizing that it was probably for the best for everyone involved. Tim Hecker actually sort of radically altered the way I write music: all of a sudden I did not give a shit about the riffs, or the technical execution, it became a matter of vibes and of meaning and intention and gesture and describing space and yeah basically I just wanted an ambient project, which I later realized wouldn't work, so I just decided to add a fourth-to-major sixth progression in every single one of my tracks because it sounds massive and everything was right with the world once again. So I was listening to Tim Hecker on YouTube, for some fucking reason, mostly because I am a heathen and forget that there are more convenient and less infuriating sites to listen to music on, and I say infuriating because YouTube somehow felt the need to recommend to me some video made by a guy denouncing "woke Disney" or some bullshit. At that point I felt a weird sense of discomfort come over me, which reminded me of that feeling an absolutely thankless, pointless task leaves you with. It felt surprisingly close to what the last months in the band felt like. Rick DuFer, if you read this, I hope you forget your password to all of your social media accounts, possibly forever. Specifically I was listening to this:

I don't like being a one trick pony, never did actually. Children usually repeat what their parents laugh at/with, I found that trite when I was three. I love playing the guitar and writing songs, and I suppose a measure of distaste with what you've grown to know too well can get to you at times - Christ, at one point it happened to me with my current band, even. Maybe it's just fear of commitment, I don't know. But my near-decade with Meeting Meat nearly broke my will to make music; for the longest time it didn't feel liberating, or rewarding, or right at all. I did it for the live shows and every single rehearsal was hell, especially after about 2018. I absolutely despised my audience for the most part and every time I heard them woo and yeah! at our covers I genuinely wanted to just start ripping the strings off my guitar with my teeth and spit blood on top of every single one of their faces or something equally horrifying and distasteful. Those were the days I wanted to disappear, never be perceived ever again, and yet here we were making stupid fucking Instagram stories instead of rehearsing and trying to get more live shows and for a while we even accepted acoustic sets, which I hated with a vengeance. Right before the pandemic hit, we were rehearsing for an acoustic show our drummer had specifically requested as her eighteenth birthday present, and believe me when I legitimately thought I would rather not go out of the house for another year or so than actually go out and do this piece of shit fucking gig. Careful what you ask for?

Considering one of this past year's highlights was being offered an acoustic set for a college radio in a different city, I guess people really do change.

Lately, and much more often than I am willing to admit, I find myself staying up really really late for no specific reason. It's usually some record I haven't listened to in ages: at the present time it's Caterina Barbieri's Patterns of Consciousness, which unsurprisingly was my most listened-to record between 2018 and 2019, which I could careen into how it was the soundtrack to a very shitty period of my life/my own personality and then into a whole story about how Caterina Barbieri has seen way too much of me in the last five years or so and everytime we meet I feel like I'm putting her on the spot, but that's a story for a different time I guess. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked - when I'm up late I guess I can kind of pull myself together for long enough to at least try to get something written down. I remember this person, a childhood friend of my drummer from the aforementioned old band, and for some reason we felt like we had to talk in a very old-fashioned manner, that was cumbersome and took up insane amounts of space, and also that made our fleeting thoughts into something tangible and real and physical, I don't know, shit's wild when you're sixteen and want to have sex with everything that moves and especially if they're a blonde girl with big blue eyes that somehow ended up into your life entering from the backdoor and felt like she would have been a friend if she lived any closer, so as I was saying we decided that it would be a good idea to exchange letters. But not in the normal way, we had notebooks and we wrote our letters in them, and then when she'd come visit my drummer I would also come say hi and we'd trade our notebooks to see what the other person had written on them, and what comments they'd left on our previous writing. Sort of like an interactive diary even? Picturesque, for all intents and purposes. Shit's wild when you're sixteen and you feel like you're more important than you actually are.

(As I'm writing this I realize that we never really stop feeling like we are more important than we actually are and that is the way humanity works, essentially, and this realization and the deconstruction of the information it entails are probably the biggest obstacle for anti-speciesism because certain fragile people would never, ever, for one second admit that they are worth what they routinely make a point of eating in the most theatrically elaborate way possible. Not like vegans can't be self-appointed, it's ultimately a matter of exercising power over other living beings, we love it when we crush something living and the blood flows out of our hands. On an unrelated note, I love it when the people come up to me after my shows and tell me that "what you do on stage is always unexpected" or that "I can never tell where your songs will go next". Go figure!)

It might be absolutely unsurprising for you all to know that I did write songs in the letter notebooks. After recording with NUMBERS and the Operators, I feel less of the urge to get something out and more of a slight push to look, touch and feel around myself for possibilities, to sense where my current artistic position can lead. It finally feels like I'm beginning to do this for myself and not for other people to look at me and go WOW. Too bad it only took fifteen years of graphomania. I keep thinking back to that Catullus line where he refers to Volusius's "Annales" as "cacata carta" and to this one comment my Latin teacher made once - the fact that papyruses were rolled up and therefore took the shape of a cylinder when stored away implied that "cacata carta" was to be interpreted as if the whole papyrus was shat out by Volusius, and not just that it was smeared with shit.

Honestly though, how do I top an ending like this here?

This here is the Caterina Barbieri record if you want to check that out I guess:

[mdhwrites]

So with your wonderful analyses on shows, how do you think Sunset Shimmer's story (redemption from evil mean bully to an empathetic hero) on Equestria Girls' spin off was? Is it every bit as good as what fans hype it up to be?

I... can't wholly comment. Not because I'm entirely unfamiliar with what you're talking about, I watched the first three Equestria Girls movies... But I also watched them over half a decade ago when they came out. I haven't watched literally any My Little Pony since midway through season... 6? Whenever Starlight joined the cast.

I can remember some of my strong feelings about certain aspects of it, partially because the bronalysis community was part of why I ended up joining the fandom as a whole and began fanfic writing so MLP was when I was first cutting my teeth on analysis but weirdly enough... I never really questioned Sunset's redemption arc, even back then.

Part of it is because they're movies, not a show. Redemption arcs get a little weird with that because the structure and pacing of such things is a lot odder. What I will say is that I do agree that it's not bad. People don't just forget what Sunset did but kind of crucially to keep those movies enjoyable, they never just tell you to think the end of the first movie was pointless. People are genuinely giving Sunset a second chance, even if maybe with a bit of trepidation, she's actively worried about reverting some but you can also see that same fire, drive and passion that led to how she was before. I think Equestria Girls, from what my memory says, was actually REALLY important for this because Sunset is a bit too demure in Rainbow Rocks, a bit too purely nice, but the third movie makes it clear that it was a defense response. The old Sunset isn't 100% gone, she's just figuring out how to balance it all.

Which I mean... All of that is a billion times better than "I will murder every timeline of existence" Starlight Glimmer being redeemed simply because she lost a single friend when she was young. No I don't care that the show is called "FRIENDSHIP is Magic", Starlight is still arguably the most destructive, spiteful villains I ever saw in that show and brushing it under the rug was not okay with me, let alone with the fact that the MANIPULATOR uses MIND CONTROL within half a season of being redeemed!

*siiiiiiiiiiigh* But again, take anything I say about MLP with a grain of salt. It has been two and a half years since I last logged into Fimfiction, mostly to delete some of the few stories I wasn't willing to condone keeping up, and I still have no plans to return. Not with how I left.

Oh, but because I feel like it, just some stats from Fimfiction because it was still like five years of my life: I published over a million words worth of material over the course of 205 stories.

I made over 1300 blogs so if you thought me being a windbag was new, NOPE!

And I have over 1,500 followers on it, placing me... A HUNDRED FIFTIETH ON THE SITE!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?

I won't link it though because, well, I have been wanting to put that part of me away for a long time now. Not just the poor quality work of my old days but the type of person I was. I joined the Brony fandom at 17 after all and while hitting rock bottom during college while being a part of it helped make me into a better person, I had to go pretty low to get there first. As such, linking it feels like condoning that old person, even if I'm not about to hide it.

Isn't that what redemption and growth is about after all? Recognizing you did wrong in the past and trying to do better? And I know for me, I'm still trying to constantly learn how I can do better. Maybe it's even part of why redemption arcs mean so much to me and why I hadn't considered Sunset's in the past. I wasn't in the middle of my own by then.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[inseparabiles]

So, TMI, but my dog died six days ago. A perfectly natural thing, he was 13 and had been on the downward swing for a year - we actually got a year more with him than initially expected, he was so poorly last year for no obvious reason that I was 100% expecting him to pass before fall. But he perked up again, had another good almost-a-year left in him. Even now, it wasn't a surprise in the slightest when he went; he'd started having accidents in the house to the point where I'd feed him on the porch so he had easy access to the lawn instead of having to feel embarrassed about pooping indoors, and just a couple days before his passing, he hit the "one last good day" and I just knew. The night he got sick, I actually woke up to him shaking away an itch and coughing and something in me just knew that was it for him, as if these two perfectly normal things weren't perfectly normal that night.

Alas, it was rough a rough one for me anyway. After spending his last 20 hours on a mattress on the floor with him, we had a vet visit at home to put him to sleep, and he was never in any significant pain or afraid, just tired. It was a good end for the goodest of boys.

After, I had a short cry, felt better and had a magnificent time going to the store and getting some fresh air, then had a HORRIBLE night sobbing ugly on the floor, after which I slept for nine hours like a baby. The next morning, I was fine, then wasn't, then was again, then wasn't, went to the store and felt like a bag of bricks. The next morning, didn't get out of bed for six hours, because everything was so fucking pointless and there's nothing to get up for anyway. I drank about one fifth of the amount I should have during this time and the idea of having fluids made me feel ill.

Now, for the past two days, I've been feeling perfectly fine. I keep jolting to some awareness of, god, where's the dog, did I forget him outside? Oh... right. But aside from that, I haven't felt any significant urge to fall off my feet and cry on the floor until I'm gagging. However, I'm now apparently unable to sleep entirely. Back to my old insomniac ways of not having more than 4 hours of sleep a night. As a bonus, my body has no idea whether it's supposed to be sleeping at night or in the morning. Prior to last Friday, my sleep cycle was around "sleep at 10 in the night", and now it's "sleep at 6 in the morning but still wake up as if I went to bed at 10 in the night". I have no idea how to fix this and frankly, I don't care enough to, I'm too tired, I'm too struggling to adjust to my new normal to bother with something as destined to fail as trying to negotiate with my sleep issues.

But it's very "convenient" that this hit exactly when I stopped showing symptoms emotionally. It's very interesting that this hit exactly when I started showing symptoms of dissociation - thinking I just "forgot" the dog, or "lost" the dog, when I can't see him in the house. Very curious, very interesting indeed. And very interesting that all of the above happened right when I gained access to my usual methods of coping with distress, which is video games; the past couple weeks, I've been nearly entirely gameless due to a broken video card.

Funny how these things "coincide".

In all seriousness, though, I'm proud of the grief work done in this house while we had access to it. We're long-time users of the Calm app, and it has been amazing during this time. Not only that, but despite being generally aversed to emotions, particularly strong emotions, and especially grief, guilt, and anger - we've truly felt all of these things very profoundly and allowed it to happen.

So, maybe when the feelings come back from the war, they'll be at least half-handled already.

Btw, if you have not had tragedy dropped on you before, grief does fuck you up in unexpected and physical ways. If you can’t sleep or sleep more than expected or have more or reduced appetite, or energy goes weird— your brain just had a bunch of emotions dropped on it and sometimes it reacts by hitting every button in your brain. It will pass. Just try to not get too frustrated with yourself.

It’s also fine if you feel normal. Grief literally hits everybody differently, and some people are made to be able to to keep the farm going the day after a death, and some of us turn into sleepless gargoyles and get really into trying to help, and some of us are just unspeakably sad. Grief is weird. Be kind to yourself.

[my-fcked-up-mental-health]

Useless encouragement posts

Not meant to send anyone hate!!!

Have you ever noticed how fucking useless most online encouraging posts are? They don't actually help you, they don't actually encourage you, all they do is make you feel worse, and you hate trying to find stuff online that helps. Have you seen that kind of thing? Well I'm going to talk about my experience with it.

I know some people actually find them helpful. And that's great. I'm glad you're helped by those kinds of posts. I know from experience, though, that most of them are entirely useless for many people who are mentally ill. I, personally, can't stand the majority of them. Many of them actually make me feel worse.

I mean look at these examples, okay.

You know, most days when I'm having a hard time, I feel like shit. I can't run my day. I have to force myself to get out of bed as everything in me wants to give up and let me sleep for the rest of my life. I don't want to be alive, I don't have enough energy to think, even. I don't have enough motivation to do basic self-care. How does this quote help me when I'm at my lowest?

Oh, yeah. It doesn't help. I just feel shittier. Why? Because I'm letting my day run me. I can't even run my own fucking day. I can't make myself do a thing. This just causes me to go into a thought spiral.

I'm supposed to do stuff. I'm supposed to be able to run my own day.

I'm giving in. I'm letting myself give in. I'm letting my day run me.

I'm weak.

So weak.

So fucking weak.

And you know what happens when I feel like that? When my thoughts and emotions spiral out of control? I cvt. I hit myself. I punch myself almost until I bruise. I hurt myself.

I want to die.

That's how useful that quote is to a person with depression.

Great. Another really damn helpful quote /sar

This quote tells me, "Hey, person with anxiety and depression and trauma and a whole lot of other mental health problems, just see the world in a positive light! You'll be fine!" No, I won't be fine. You know why?

Well, before I was eleven and I experienced trauma, I saw the world in a more positive light. I thought life was good. It isn't. Bad things happen to positive people too. I'm not saying being negative is better. I'm not saying to avoid happiness. But. The quoted person isn't even correct.

Besides, I can't just change my perspective like, magic: just like ✨ that ✨. Depressive thoughts don't just go away, alright? Suicidal thoughts don't just go away, you know? Self-harm doesn't just magically stop; don't you understand? Apparently this person who was posting didn't understand that.

Depressed people don't just magically undepress.

Traumatized people don't just magically become not traumatized.

That's not how mental health works.

I have to be positive though, according to this poster, because then good things happen to me. And that just starts the bad spiral again.

I'm failing.

I just have to be positive, but I can't.

I'm just being dramatic. It can't be that bad.

Something's wrong with me.

What's wrong with me?

I can't even be happy.

I can't even be positive.

I should be dead; I'm a useless failure.

No good things should happen to me.

I'm just a fucking mess.

Why am I not dead?

So, once again, I'm a failure. And once again, so is the inspirational quote that supposed to support and empower me throughout my day. Great job.

You know what I say to this person, the author John Green? Fuck. You. There isn't hope. I'm not hopeful. I want to be dead and you're over here telling me that "there's hope"? What the hell?

This quote is useless for a number of reasons. For one, I don't have any reason to trust you. Why should I believe you when you are directly contradicting what my brain has been telling me for the past several years? I have no reason to believe you if you're telling me that there's hope. I don't believe you. The quote is pointless.

And for two, you know, this actually makes me feel bad. This quote makes me feel bad. Why? Because I don't believe you and I'm angry that you're telling me something I don't believe is true. And I feel bad about that because you're just trying to help. It's just the fact that you aren't helping one bit.

So. Fuck you, John Green quote. This is useless. Don't bother saying such a silly and pointless thing to me.

This is about as useful as the hope one. As useful as the positivity one. In other words this quote is shit. "You'll never find a rainbow if you're looking down." Oh, so I can just look up in this? I can be happy, no problem? I can just decide out of nowhere to start looking at the good things instead of the bad? And how is that supposed to work, exactly? I'm depressed and anxious. What the hell am I supposed to do about it? I can't do anything about it. I have clinical depression. I can't just choose happiness and rainbows and "looking up". Sorry.

I guess I'm just a fucking failure like that. I guess it's not going to have a magical cure without any work by you or I. Or are you putting it all on me? Am I supposed to magically fix myself? What if I don't have the motivation to magically cure myself! What if I'm not a witch! What if that not how depression works! What if I'm a normal depressed person, for god's sake!

Thanks a lot, Charlie Chaplin. Really helpful. I feel even shittier than I did before reading this quote.

What?! I can! I haven't ever heard that before! /sar /neg

Now I understand that I can! You cured the depression, Miss Moore! Congratulations! I thought I couldn't, but now that you've told me I can, I feel so much better! I feel absolutely heavenly and confident now. Because of your quote.

Oh, wait, what are those words I hear? Self doubt? But no, I've been cured. How could this be?

What? I have depression? I can't be fixed by this Miss Moore magic ✨?

This person at least says "sometimes." Not always. That's a step in the right direction. But I don't think perfectionism, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, self harm, and other people's hatred are just fucking gifts meant to push me in another direction. Nope. I don't think so. I don't know what or whom you're thinking of, but it sure as hell isn't me. Goddamn. I have no more to say.

I just want to say: This is not meant to send hate to any of the people who posted/post these things. This doesn't send hate to anyone who says these kinds of things. Just know that they aren't cures for or helpful for depression.

I'm so damn frustrated with this shitty "inspiration".

[frinsstudios]

MY STORIES ARE TRASH !!!

This year as a writer is going good so far. I am in a Philippine organization for writers and are able to communicate with them. Most of them being writers on Wattpad, which is just the community I belong in.

But these past few days, I watch these writers post the amount of people that have read their story and commented on it, while I watch mine barely getting any traction. I also saw them update 30k-80k words a day while I write 1k words after 2.5 hours. This kind of made me feel insecure of my work and maybe a little envious (not to the point that I despise them, though I still love my writer friends and support their works).

I start to think that my story is not good. It's silly, pointless, and does not even contribute anything to literature. What is the point of my writing? What's the point of this story anyway? It's just about two women having sex and telling themselves they're not gonna be in love with one another but they are! It's not a cool action-packed adventure filled with secret mafias or demon eyes or a mystical fantasy world. It's just nothing but a trash!

My stories are trash!

...

I start to drink alcohol and stop writing, just to feel something a little bit. Alcohol kinda gets me pumping. (Don't worry I'm no alcoholic Last time I drank was only on New Year and I only drank one cup and that's it) Suddenly, I am on the floor, with my stuffed toys, contemplating about my dreams as an author that I've been chasing since I was 13. I remember how excited I was to write, to jot down different ideas, then to now. Back then I was not filled with worries or insecurities, just simply writing stories that have the same trash quality as I make them now, thinking how great the story I'm writing it.

Then it hit me. Back then, the amount of readers don't cross my mind, I don't overthink about the words I write, and I am aware then that my story is nothing compare to the published books I so love but that didn't matter then. I know my stories are trash because it's all messy and what. But despite it, I think it was a good trash. That was my mindset: for now, I'll be good trash. All this time that's what I've been thinking of my book. That's why I never mind my mistakes so much!

I am 20 years old. I'm still quite young and inexperienced, yet I'm worrying about the things I'm not suppose to worry about yet. I feel like I'm putting so much pressure on myself. I need to remind myself that every writers have their own way of writing and own pace. Each and every one of us have our own genres we are good at. And I shouldn't be worried about readers when I am just starting because no matter what story I write, it will find its audience.

And also, looking back at my old writing, I knew that I am growing as a writer. The way I wrote my story then at 14 is different now. I learned quite a lot these past few years, and I know I still have more things to learn.

And if there's something that my 14-year-old self know better, is that if no one will ever love my story, then I should. I need to treat my accounts as a fan account for my stories as a way to promote it but I need to have editing apps so I think I will need to play Roblox until I get tired enough to download it (the struggles of being a slight-gamer).

Anyway, this is just a rant. I don't know how to end this...

[totally-not-here-for-the-smut]

Lucio

At the beginning, he grins and brags about it...

But then realises you're actually scared. But why?!

He can't believe it. He'd never hurt you! How can you not know this? He's almost offended by it, but puts it aside to understand why you feel that way

And then yes, technically I killed people

And creatures

And moved pointless wars against innocents

And I get heated pretty easily

And made a deal with the devil

And...

This is a key moment for Lucio to fully understand what "consequences" means. He may be a better person now, but the past can't be erased.

He apologises quietly for scaring you, and excuses himself.

The next day he leaves for an alone journey. He says he needs some time to be alone and think.

Nadia

She is shocked by your reaction

...and concerned.

At first, her reaction is very unpleasant: she starts questioning you about what happened to you, a whole "who-did-that" that intimidates you even more.

You would like to explain, really, but everything is so sudden, and trying to bring back all those memories makes you a trembling mess.

It takes Portia to save you from the interrogation. She takes you away and then explains to Nadia what is wrong with her approach.

You spend the day in the cottage, recovering from the throwback trauma with Pepi's help.

The next morning, Nadia sends you flowers and a heartfelt note, where she apologises for her inappropriate behaviour and tells you that she'll be happy to listen once you're ready to talk about it

Portia

She teases you about it.

A lot.

If it's not serious, it becomes a running inside joke between the two of you.

If there's some trauma behid it, eventually she's gonna pick it up...

...and went off a quest to find whoever did that to you, armed with her trusted footstool

You'll have to retrieve her from jail.

Julian

G U I L T

Huge and crippling guilt

He apologises profusely, cries, offers to never come close to you again if you need so.

You'll have to calm him down and explain to him that it's not his fault.

One thing he's super good at is getting people to open up about their traumas, pain and insecurities... eventually, he'll be drying your tears and you'll fall asleep between his arms.

And, once you're sleeping, he'll go get Portia to go kick your abuser's ass together.

Muriel

He freezes, his eyes widens in horror

He feels like a monster

Starts to apologise, blabbering something and before you can tell anything, leaves the hut

... what the fuck? You and Innana stare at each other for a solid minute, then go out to look for him

He's on a tree, questioning everything about himself

It takes half an hour to convince him to come down and explain it was a reflex because you didn't see him coming and thought you were alone

He just scared you

NO NO MURIEL WAIT I'M NOT SAYING YOU'RE SCARY

Eventually you have to show him how powerful your magic is in order to convince him that you're not, in fact, ever threatened by him

Asra

He is surprised. At the beginning he jokes about it, but shortly realises there's something bad behind it

Quicky apologizes, and kindly asks why you thought he could ever hit you, if not by mistake

When facing your embarrassed silence, he goes off to brew some tea and changes topic

The next days he schedules very chilled and intimate activities for the two of you: going into the woods to pick some herbs, stargazing, preparing new tea mixes. He's clearly creating a good situation for you to talk about, if you want to

Being also a lowkey control freak, he'll get anxious if days and weeks go by without you talking about it, but he will keep it down... resorting to Muriel as a sounding board for his thoughts and anxieties.

If you're comfortable with it, would you be ok with writing how the m6 would handle mc flinching from them?

Oooh sum sweet sweet angst I like it!

[svftvluv]

hi! im really nervous because this is my first time requesting anything! (if i do anything wrong please delete this im so embarrassed ����) but i loved your fic ‘tutor’ and i was wondering if you could maybe write something based on the song ‘green green dress’ from tick, tick...BOOM! if not that is totally fine! (please don’t feel obligated to write anything!!) and before i forget, with andrew garfield’s spiderman :) have a great day!

Oh That Dress

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Peter just can't seem to keep his hands off the second he sees that dress on you. So he decides to go down on you.

Warnings: smut, praise kink, oral receiving(female), fingering

Author's Note: hi! I'm having mixed feelings about this(literally me every time I post), but I did hope you all enjoy this. I do low-key want there to be a part two only because I have a somewhat decent idea, but let me know if you guys would want that:)

—

The dress hugged your curves perfectly. It fell so delicately against your skin. Along with the black stockings. How could Peter not keep his eyes off of you? It was impossible. His mind was flooded with scenarios where you would be under him countless of times. All he wanted though was to be right in between your thighs. He felt his pants tighten and cursed you for the hard-on you caused him. Of course to his luck you stood right in front him, your bum facing him. He tried his best, he really did try to divert his eyes to his phone or something, but it was pointless.

"Peter...Peter...Peter!" You called out his name. "Huh? Yeah?” He blinked trying to compose himself. “You okay there, weirdo?” You chuckled. He nodded rather frantically as if he were hiding something. You spun around to face him. “Okay then. Opinions on my dress?” Fuck. Oh how he wanted the earth to swallow him alive. “It-it looks good.” He knew if he said more he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. "Just good? But I got for you." You teased him. He walked up to you, making you back up until your thighs hit your desk. “All for me huh?” He whispered in your ear sending shivers down your spine. "You know we don't have to have to go out, we could just stay here and do something else." You knew very well what he was aiming towards.

His hand laid on your neck, but not squeezing it only leaving subtle caresses. “Peter.” kiss “We have to” kiss “Go” kiss. He pulled you in even more, allowing you to feel his prominent bulge. His hands traveled down your sides stopping right above your bum. Deep down you knew the right thing to do was to go out, but as of right now all you wanted was his hands all over you. He began kissing your neck until he found your sweet spot where he began sucking on. You let out a breathy moan. His hands played with the strap along with the buttons that held your dress together.

After pulling your dress up to your waist, his hands caressed your upper thighs. He left kisses all over them, but never kissed or touched you where you most needed him. "Peter..d-do something please." You were never one to have patience.  "I thought you wanted to go out? Now you’re so desperate for me." He teased before his finger touched your clit making you flinch. He laughed at your reaction before continuing his movements. His finger moved in figure eights making you squirm. You whined at the loss of contact before he laid his tongue between your thighs. His mouth wrapped around your clit adding to your stimulation. As he continued devouring you he snuck two fingers past your folds making you gasp. "Fuck Peter!" You moaned as your fingers tangled in his hair. He managed to understand her body language allowing him to find the right pace. Your thighs closed around his head pushing him in deeper.

“Peter-I’m” You could barely let out any words. The knot in your stomach began to overtake your body. He hummed at your actions and words, never letting you go, being fully devoted to making you feel amazing. His fingers hit your g-spot countless times, sending you over the edge. You squirmed from the pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. You let your body go limp onto the mattress as you tried your best to catch your breath. Peter removed himself from in between your legs with the biggest smirk on his face. “You taste amazing, baby. Think I’m going to need more.” He said before diving back in.

[pervysenpaix]

Heather - MHA X Black!femreader

Prompt : Why would you ever kiss me ? I'm not even half as pretty. You gave her sweater, "it's just polyester", but you like her better. I wish I were-

Warnings: Hurt/Angst, Unrequited love, Pining, Song Fic, Aged Up characters(3rd year) Sad girl hours --

A/N: Ngl, it's kinda heavy a little bit. I think it's fine but IDK. This idea has been on my mind for a really long time so I just had to get it off my chest. Not proofread but it never is.

I do not own MHA, MHA characters or anything associated with the brand.

©pervysenpaix 2022

Do you still remember ?

That one chilly evening in early December? The two of you had just finished training, something that you'd been looking forward to all day. Wrapped cozily in his letterman, you trotted along side him to your destination.

It was a beautiful night-- a vast expanse of indigo littered by dazzling glimmers of sparkling light. He was pointing out constellations, awestruck by the luminescent stars. A truly magnificent display. Not that you noticed, you were captivated by the man at your side.

There was a lot that had changed about Eijiro Kirishima since first-year. One being his size, he'd hit a massive growth spurt the summer before, now standing at 6'6 with massive muscles that rippled with each movement. Legs so long that it took at least three steps to match one of his long strides. He always took his time though, making sure that you could keep up. His hair had grown too. A long red mane that fell down his back, often pulled up in a bun or two French braids whenever you had the time (always). His face had gotten more mature. Chubby cheeks a thing of the past and now replaced with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass even when he's not in his unbreakable form. Speaking of sharp. Those dazzling pearly whites gleamed in the moonlight every time he grinned down at you. Red orbs scanning the planes of your face in a way that sent butterflies in your belly and tingles in your spine. It made you shiver.

"Are you still cold?" Before you could respond, he'd already thrown his arm around your shoulder and slotted you against his side. The butterflies and tingles turned into backflips and explosions. How is it possible for such a simple gesture to have such a momentous effect on you? Sad really, considering your best friend had eyes for another.

"Kiri!" A melodic voice chirped as the two of you walked through the door and your body stiffened. You felt sick. Stomach churning and bile rising in your throat as your head scanned the room to find the source of your misery.

"Mina." The reverence in his voice was heartbreaking. Said almost like an oath, a prayer. Why didn't he say your name like that?

The pink girl ran over smiling brightly. So bright and blinding that it almost distracted you from the Eijiro pulling away and gravitating towards her. Almost. You watched as they came together. Magnetic attraction palpable and smothering. The cool blue flecks in his vermillion visionaries flickered passionately as he took in her rose-colored flesh-- almost bare in a short pajama set. Perfect body filling it out in a way you never could. As if it were made for her. Just like him. It was hard to breathe.

"I guess I'll head on to bed". An absentminded "mmhmm" was the only response. Dejected, you began to walk towards the elevator. Stewing in a funk of self deprecation. As you pressed the button to your floor, the sound of your name had you whipping your head around. "Yes" Voice a little too hopeful as you watched the red head jog towards you. "Hey, can I have my jacket back? We're about to watch a movie and Mina was feeling a bit cold". What if that was your thirteenth reason? "Of course" Forcing a smile, you relieved yourself of the material and placed it in his arms. "Thanks, Pebble. Wish me luck". A forehead kiss and a wink, and then he was gone. Running back towards her. You wanted to scream and shout, You're going the wrong way, Idiot ! Turn around, but you knew it would be pointless. So you watched him wrap the jacket around her shoulders just as the door closed and the first tear fell.

Months have passed since that night, but it never gets easier. The searing pain that pierces your heart whenever your paths cross. Him and her, holding hands in the halls. Moving together languidly, as if they had no care in the world. Stopping ever so often to chat with a friend and giggling whenever they got the "you're such a cute couple" comments. Smiling softly as he put his arm around her shoulder. Why did it make you feel colder?

To make things worse, you didn't hate Mina. How could you? A slew of charming traits wrapped in a beautiful, bubbly package. Always willing to lend a hand or help a friend. Who's more deserving of a ball of sunshine like Eijiro than her? Could you even argue that you'd be better for him? No, she's a literal angel. That's why guilt consumed you whenever she walked by and you wished she were dead.

"Oi, dumbass. You okay?"

You'd been wandering aimlessly down the halls of 3-A dorms for about an hour. Mind heavy-- filled with thoughts of your bestfriend who'd admitted at the graduation ceremony that he was in love Mina and that they'd planned on moving into an apartment together that was close to both of the agencies that they'd been assigned to. He was absolutely smitten. A goofy grin plastered on his face as he gushed over how perfect she was for him. Too happy to notice the way you winced whenever he said her name.

"S'fine, Bakugo." Not even bothering to look up or say excuse me for walking into him, you attempted to go around his hulking figure, but two warm hands wrapped around your forearms, pulling your back against his chest. "I know you're not fine, (L/N)". Was it his tone? The softness in which he said your name? Was it the heat that radiated of his palms on your bare skin. A soothing sensation. Or maybe you were just tired of holding back, knowing that you'd finally lost. Tomorrow all of you would move out the dorms, starting your adult lives. The two of them would be together and you'd be alone.

Slowly, you turned towards him. Red eyes met brown. Not the familiar Vermilion dusted with flecks of deep blues and purple, but a radiant ruby that reflected gold like the morning sun. It was a beautiful red, but not the red. And the softness in them was astounding, maybe he was channeling your sadness. Did he know what it felt like to pine after someone who's heart belonged to another? Probably not. Only you were that desperate. He was just being a good friend.

You collapsed against him. Body going slack against the firm wall of toned muscle. He lolling into the crook his neck, wetting his skin with freshly fallen tears. He blushed when he felt your plush lips moving against his skin, whispering your confession in a voice so small that only he and God could hear.

" I wish I were Mina".

Sweeties: @xogabbiexo , @yo-nn, @bookwormsenpai, @nasty-quillz, @tenyaiidasslut, @dabilovesme, @namjoonswifeyy, @blkchxrryblyss, @7inaa, @not-your-damsel, @simpliheavenli, @bunnxie, @38riku, @presidentmonica

[tetsvhoe]

PUSHING YOU AWAY

character/s: kuroo tetsuro x gn reader

genre/s: angst to fluff

warning/s: none i think just arguing, soft boy kuroo™️

gwen's notes 🤍: i had a v important exam today but instead i started yet another angst series. i wanted reader to be madder here but kuroo was too sad :( i lob him sm

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

kuroo was certain he would never find love as he grew up surrounded by heartbreak, by venomous words and arguments that shake a house down to its core, by resentment and regret instilled in bitter performative kisses and wedding bands for props. yet you found him.

most days he wondered what kind of hero or saint he must have been in the past life to be loved by you–unconditionally and selflessly.

other days, he's plagued by his past and the recurring nightmare that the home your hearts settled in would be torn down by the same two pairs of hands that built it.

kuroo has been distant lately. you first played it off as being busy at work or being tired, but a feeling in your chest whispered that the longer you allowed it the worse it would get. besides he had a tendency to keep to himself until he no longer could and you hated how he felt the need to carry his burdens by himself.

you squeezed his tensed shoulders, peering at his paperwork sprawled all over his desk. "you should take a break, love," you whispered, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

you winced at the way he subtly dodged your affection. "i know i'll be done in a sec," he mumbled dismissively, shuffling his documents.

"i kind of feel like you've been avoiding me lately. is there a problem?"

a beat of silence. "i'm not, just busy," he curtly replied.

"are you sure? you know you could talk to me if there's something bothering you." he only nodded in response to which you rest your case–something was definitely bothering him. "i can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong, tetsu," you whispered, reaching to touch his shoulder again.

you audibly gasped as he quickly pushed your hand away. "i know, i get it. i just need to finish this like i said. you're not being of any help if you keep nagging me like this."

frowning, you crossed your arms over your chest. your patience was quickly wearing thin. "well i'm sorry for nagging you. i was just worried about you."

"oh i'm sorry! i'm the one constantly swamped with work but i have to worry about you worrying about me," he sarcastically remarked, rolling his eyes. the dim lights in his office traced his clearly annoyed features.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you raised an eyebrow at him.

he studied your expression for a moment before dismissing you once more. "nothing, forget it."

"no, can you stop brushing me off wh-"

"god," he dragged the word out in utter frustration, running a hand through his face. "can you not take a hint? i wanna be left alone!"

"how do you expect me to ignore this when there's clearly a problem and you're not telling me!" you argued, voice unintentionally raising out of frustration. it sort of felt like he wasn't hearing you, maybe getting the words out louder would help. but in truth, he just didn't want to listen.

in a swift, somewhat aggressive motion, he pushed his chair back and stood to face you. you stumbled back, merely startled by the sudden movements. you weren't afraid he was going to hit you, but the next words that came out of his mouth felt like he just did.

"has it ever occurred to you that maybe i don't want anything to do with you or your pointless worrying, that's why i never talk about the things that bother me!?" you blinked back ay him, trying to process his words. "probably not because all you ever care about is yourself anyway," he huffed, turning away from you.

"you're right, i haven't thought about it like that," you calmly mumbled, a stark contrast to him and your own from 30 seconds ago.

you meant it. though his words stung and there were about a hundred different ways he could have phrased it differently, you understood his point. kuroo was naturally closed off, hiding his vulnerability under a mask of sheer charm and confidence. you felt wrong for prying when he clearly wasn't ready to talk things through. it was for the sake of your relationship, you reasoned, but you didn't think about his own sake enough. he must have had a reason for hiding his troubles but it doesn't justify the way he acted.

you exhaled, breaking the silence. you dismissed your thoughts in favor of giving yourselves some time and maybe talk things through the following morning–properly and civilly like adults.

"i'm sorry for stressing you out. finish up soon so you could get some rest."

you closed the door behind you as you left his office and made your way into the bedroom where you got ready for bed–in silence, alone with your thoughts, replaying his words over and over.

you tossed and turned but sleep wasn't coming to you any time soon so it seemed. you quickly slipped on a hoodie, grabbed your wallet and keys and left for a bit of fresh air.

meanwhile, kuroo in his office had a lot of time to think. in the silence, all he heard was his own words to you echoing repeatedly. the more he dwelled on it the more he hated himself for the way he treated you. when he heard the door in the next room open and close he was half expecting you to enter his office, pry him off his work and get him to bed. instead, he heard the front door open and click close. he panicked.

he zoomed out his office to check the bedroom after a moment of being paralyzed with fear. he prayed that you never left at all and it was all in his head. you weren't there. he frantically searched for his keys. dammit, why were they missing now of all times. you were always the one who knew where he last left them. he debated whether he would try to find you, run around the city like a lost puppy. he figured that might not be the best option, what if you went home as he was still out looking for you? he tried calling you, flooding you with messages as he paced around the barren apartment. no answer, not even read receipts. as he paced back and forth, he heard a faint tune from the bedroom. did you honestly leave your phone as you ran off in the middle of the night?

come to think of it... this scene looked all too familiar to him.

you creeped back into the apartment as quietly as you can, not wanting to wake kuroo if he was already asleep. as you neared your bedroom, sobs and sniffles became louder.

"tetsu?" you gently called out from the door way. he hadn't even noticed you until then. he whipped his head up, red puffy eyes peered at you with both surprise and relief. he came running to tackle you in an embrace.

"oh thank god you didn't leave me. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean any of it i was being a jerk. please don't go," he cried into your shoulder, holding you as if you would float away if he let go in the slightest.

hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly. "what's wrong? i'm not going to leave you, silly. i just went out for some air."

although you wanted him to at least be sorry for what he said, it pained you to see him like this.

"i was wrong. i treated you so badly back there. i was just scared. and i know it doesn't make sense but i was afraid because of how much i love you, how i can't imagine my life without you. and i remembered my mom, my parents. i was scared! i thought- i thought i was going to ruin it somehow. and i just did. you were gone and i just- i thought of the worst-"

you gently hushed his rambling, cradling his wet cheeks into the palms of your hands, looking him in the eyes to anchor him down.

"i'm not leaving, darling. calm down okay?"

he hesitated for a but but nodded intently nonetheless, wrapping you in a tight hug again. you stroked his hair while gently swaying your bodies side to side to hush his cries and the hammering in his chest you felt against yours. "i don't appreciate the way you talked to me, but i understood your point. this was exactly what i didn't want happening if you kept bottling your emotions up."

"i'll try to communicate better i promise. i'll make it up to you. i'm sorry and i love you so much."

you pulled away and wiped his tears gently. "let's get ready for bed, we'll talk in the morning hm?"

his lips pursed to an adorable pout he probably didn't know was showing. a beat of silence later, as he turned to the bath you whispered, "i love you, idiot."

[softpshycopath]

Shut up, for me?

Summary: you and Druig aren't supposed to get along, but kissing someone had a tendency to change that.

Warnings: none, I don't think so at least.

Words: 1850-ish

A/N: sorry, this took some time to write, but hey! those weird borders are gone :) Anyways enjoy and anyone who likes my ridiculous metaphor gets a cookie.

Another day, another fight and another pointless argument with Druig. You could already hear his voice in your head when you made your way back to the Domo. It seemed that, despite literally being created for the sake of defending the humans against deviants, nothing you could ever do would be good enough. “Don't do that.” “No, the other way.” “You can't ever do anything right can you?” It was exhausting. Unfortunately, every time you got back from fighting you didn't have the energy to say something mean back to him.

Of course, after you'd regained your strength, you'd feel properly furious at his words, but the moment would have passed, and he wasn't worth causing an unnecessary scene.

The worst part was that Druig would never be able to let things go, decades later he'd still remind you of the mistake you made once while fighting (with the sun in your eyes, mind you). “Maybe you should jump before the deviant hits you.”

So, you decided that if you couldn't fight him in the moment, you would do anything in your power to make him feel miserable at other times. See if he liked to have a stupid high-pitched voice in the back of his head telling him he's wrong, planting insecurities.

And it worked, no he hadn't stopped bothering you, but yes, he did get pissed off. You could see it in his eyes, “um, Druig I think you're supposed to control them.” Just to mess with him. It was a gamble really, seeing as you didn't properly understand how his powers worked you couldn't give direct blows to his ego, just little slaps.

That seemed to be the most annoying, you could only tease him, but he made comments which haunted your thoughts well past midnight. To be honest, you weren't sure how it had started. You bet it was just genuine feedback at first, like he was really trying to help you. But like a cliff, eroded by the same water that lets a flower grow, too much feedback felt like harsh, uncalled for hatred.

Everyone knew the, as Ajak once diplomatically put it, troublesome relationship you and Druig shared. What only she knew, however, was how hard it hit you. Especially when it first started to get to you. “I don't know why he's so mean, I'm doing my best,” you had cried in her arms one night.

You, in turn, didn't know that at first, it really had been well-intended. Druig was worried for you. Was. He had been drawn to you, who was the first to smile and introduce yourself when the Eternals mission on earth had begun. But you began to talk back, not in a kind thank-you manner or in a tone that reflected slight annoyance. No, you went for full-on, no remorse or holding back critique which, at times, made the mind-controller doubt he was even in control.

So, after another mission, you stepped back onto the Domo with a grim rather than yay-we-just-killed-a-bunch-of-deviants feeling. Today was going to be different though, most of your friends had gone straight for the village, ready to party. Normally they would've waited a bit and cleaned themselves up, but the fight hadn't been so brutal. So, you decided to give Druig a run for his money today.

“Where are the others?” You had barely set foot in the communal space when Druig's voice shifted your attention to a darker corner. “They’ve already gone to the village, probably to go to a party.” While you waited for his answer, you realised that the Domo was empty apart from the two of you. Any fight you would get in could be as dramatic as you wanted because no one was there to stop you. “And you're here why?” Druig left his corner to -casually- make his way over to where you were. Stopping some two meters away from you. “Did you get hurt? I told you not to-” “I know what you told me not to do Druig, but I don't care.” He was taken aback and so you continued, “Guess what? I have been fighting for years, decades, centuries! I will not get killed someday because I wasn't paying attention and I won't suddenly be saved because of some know-it-all on my team either!” Your hand movements accentuated your words.

“Really?” He started to get closer to you. “Because just last week you came back with a gash on your stomach and blood all over your face!” You instinctively backed up until you were against the wall. “And the week before that you could barely walk, Gilgamesh had to carry you home!” He closed the space between you two. “And now, here you are with blood all over your clothes,” he pointed out. You hadn't even noticed it. “That's not my blood, dummy. It's the deviant's insides because we killed it so effortlessly that it only took one cut!” “But it's still on you, you don't even have cutting related powers!” “Well, that's because someone's constant nagging caused me to be a bit out of it and I wasn't paying attention!” You were so close together; you could feel his breath and you were sure he could feel yours. His scent made its way into your nose and, as hard as it was to admit, he smelled nice. Especially compared to your battlefield, blood and sweat-soaked uniform. “Well, at least my nagging has good reason, you're not careful enough!” “Oh, and you care so much about my wellbeing, huh?” You scoffed at him. That was it.

He kissed you. He really did.

In Druig's defence, he didn't know what he was doing, it felt like his body was acting without his permission. But when his brain processed his actions, he didn't stop. He wanted to; he knew it wasn't right, but my god did it feel right.

It wasn't like you weren't enjoying it either. Hell, it wasn't even like you hadn't thought about kissing him. In the beginning you had, now you were supposed to be repelled by the idea. But ideas aren't the same as actions and in the moment, with him kissing you, you didn't want to pull away.

The door flew open, and you yelped, pushing Druig away from you, a bit too roughly sure. “Don't worry it's just me.” You heard Phastos’ voice and he climbed into the Domo. “You weren't fighting, were you?" He asks while eyeing you both suspiciously, probably at the way you were looking from the floor to Druig to him and back to the floor all within a second. “Right, well, this feels very awkward, and I am just getting some clean shoes because Kingo threw up over mine.” You looked at his shoes, instantly regretting it. “So, I'm gonna do that and you're welcome to join the party.” “Yes, I will do that, seems like a good idea,” you replied, finally coming down from the shock of it all.

-

It had been almost three hours on the dot since you kissed Druig. Well, he kissed you, but you admitted that you might have –unconsciously- leaned in. Only a bit. You couldn't shake it, obviously since it only happened a while ago, but what did this mean for your relationship? Did he still hate you? Did you still hate him? Let's face it, you never did. But you might have to keep up appearances.

Unsurprisingly, Druig was thinking about the same thing. Although, he was a bit more shocked than you were. He had, after all, initiated the whole thing. He too wondered about what this would mean for your relationship and all other things that naturally follow a spiral like the one he was in. For now, he was thankful the others hadn't seemed to notice yet, apart from Phastos’ disturbance. Curse him for interrupting your moment, he wasn't scared to admit it (just a little reluctant), but he had enjoyed kissing you.

What he wasn't thankful for was you, ignoring him like nothing happened. Like you were still in the same hate-but-do-you-really-mean-it relationship you had been this morning. But you weren't. You kissed. He kissed you and he liked it very much a lot. You did too, right?

-

When the night was almost coming to an end, and people began to leave, Druig took his chance. He grabbed you by the arm and, tactfully, managed to get you into a small hallway. “What, do you think you're doing?” You whisper-shouted at him. “Take a wild guess,” he replied with a smirk on his face. However, he continued in a much more serious tone, “I want to talk to you about this afternoon.” You sighed, of course, you would have to talk about it, but now? Your thoughts had barely settled since a night of spiral after spiral. But you figured the best was to get it over with.

“Okay, I know what you're gonna say so let me say it for you. Yes, we kissed. No, it didn't mean anything. Yes, we shouldn't tell anyone. No, we'll never talk about it again. Of course, you didn't mean to do it, you just needed to shut me up because I never listen and yes, your right we shouldn't let the others find out. Oh, and never do it again.”

Druig was silent, a bit too long for your taste. “Is that how you feel?” He finally spoke. “No, it's how you feel, and I am saving both of us quite some time by not arguing about it.” “Right, except for the fact that that's not how I feel.” What. “But it's okay we don't have to talk about it.” He turned to leave, “nononononono, tell me how you feel.” You had grabbed his hands and he was fully turned to you. You were almost as close as you had been this morning.

“Please.”

“Well, if you insist. Yes, it did mean something. Maybe we shouldn't tell anyone, yet. Yes, we do have to talk about it again, and we will. And I might not have been fully aware of what I was doing but I didn't just do it to shut you up.” You were speechless. “Oh, and yes, you never listen to me.” He purposefully left out the last part, but you hadn't forgotten. “And never do it again?” He grinned at you. “That depends on you.”

So, you acted. You kissed him this time. And it was just as amazing, you were sure any future kisses would be just as amazing. Of course, the not-being-so-shocked aspect of it really allowed you to enjoy it this time. It felt like thousands of years had led up to this moment and now you were going to let a thousand years go by again. That's how it felt. Time seemed to stand still and speed by because before you knew it, and long before you wanted to, Druig pulled away.

This time he wasn't met with a rough push to the side but with a, slightly out of breath, smile. Which he happily returned.

[svartalfhild]

Svar Watches BBC Robin Hood for the First Time - Season 1

So I recently decided to finally get around to seeing a show I've been meaning to watch for like nearly 10 years. I am so far past missing the boat on this one, but since I've been doing a bit of a "catching up on shows from the 2000's I didn't really get to see at the time" run lately, I thought I'd record my thoughts for y'all's amusement.

So here we go, Season 1 thoughts:

Every single one of these Merry Men, including Robin, suffers from Just Some Guy disease, fucking RIP

Except Djaq. Djaq is cool.

We can all agree that Much is clearly a little gay for Robin, right?

Guy of Gisborne is such an asshole, but unfortunately Richard Armitage is too good at his job, so Guy is also hot.

The Sheriff is cartoonishly evil and I hate him, but I'm kind of loving how just like a lot his personality is. Like this bitch belongs in a cracktastic Crusader Kings playthrough, holy shit.

Damn, Marian really is the only fully competent motherfucker in the whole place, huh?

Make that two competent motherfuckers, adding Djaq.

Man, this writing is super shabby in places, but when they hit, they fucking hit.

This show really bills itself as a fun adventure show but boy does it have shit to say at times, shit that was kinda ballsy of them to be saying in 2006. Like positively portraying Muslim characters and condemning pointless wars in the Middle East (the messaging on this gets muddled in a few places, but the fact that it's in there at all is impressive). Like you expect to see class struggle and sexism talked about in Robin Hood, but I wasn't expecting them to do so much with the "oh yeah, we just got back from Palestine and we have PTSD and maybe the Crusade is really bad actually". Bravo.

Ah, but this is a BBC show, so we can't have anti-monarchism. King Richard is totally awesome and is definitely going to make everything better when he gets back. Like I know that's baked into the Robin Hood tales, but they could lean into it less in places, I feel.

I think part of what makes Guy so captivating is that he's complicated and clearly suffers from a lot of inner conflict. I love knowing why villains are Like That, and we get so much about him from seeing his initial reactions to things vs. his behaviour after the Sheriff talks to him. Even just watching Richard Armitage's facial expressions is so rewarding. He gives us so much information about Guy just with his body language. Fucking brilliant.

Holy shit the more of this I watch, the more I'm like oh yeah Guy is an abuse victim and the Sheriff is his abuser. Like obviously that's not an excuse for any of the multitudes of evil things he does, but damn that boy is caught in a cycle. It has all the classic abuse features. Having his impressionable nature/eagerness to please taken advantage of. Being constantly inflicted with physical and emotional violence. Being manipulated into making choices against his judgement and editing himself to better fit what his abuser wants him to be. Being isolated from positive influences and being told to reject other sources of validation and support. Having his toxic masculinity heavily reinforced. Being consistently ignored and undervalued. The list goes on.

Anyway, I think I have a new blorbo now. I don't have many evil blorbos these days, but he's earned his place. I hope he gets good character development. Or at least gets to stab the Sheriff.

Much annoyed me a bit in the beginning, but he's starting to grow on me after he stood up to Robin and went through that business of the noble title.

God, I just want to shake Guy by the shoulders like you have everything you need to be more interesting to Marian than Robin, but you're fucking blowing it so hard, my dude. Ah, but alas, it must be this way.

I want to shake Robin by the shoulders like you would have this in the bag dude if you would just actually listen to Marian and support her instead of telling her what you think she should do all the time. Goddamn he and Guy ultimately have the same fucking problem.

#TeamFuckAllYallLetMarianRunEverythingActually

BRUH IF I HAD A DOLLAR FOR EVERY TIME GUY WANTED TO MAKE A GOOD DECISION FOR ONCE IN HIS LIFE AND THEN FUCKING SWERVED AT THE LAST SECOND BECAUSE OF SOME SHIT THE SHERIFF SAID I'D BE RICH BY NOW SWEET JESUS.

I can't believe they ended this season on the most Good Job, Lads moment oh my god it's so cheesy but so on brand.

To see my Season 2 thoughts, go here.