#so seeing someone who's skinnier than me potentially having problems i feel like i need to help

[edgybutnotveryedgy]

...

[sepublic]

Do you feel as though there are parallels/reflections to Belos in the first part of season 1? When I was rewatching some of the episodes, I was thinking about possible allusions to him like this past and what he may have brought to the isles beforehand

           …Well, I HAVE considered the possibility that this may be a younger Belos, before whatever happened to him;

           Not to mention there’s Mystery Arm, who is associated with King’s alleged loss of power.

          Of course, Mystery Arm is also a lot buffer than Belos is… But then again, Belos is clearly a character who has deteriorated, so the idea that his muscles atrophied since the distant past and that’s why he’s skinnier isn’t out of the question.

           Otherwise… Most of it is speculation! I’ve made posts speculation on Belos based on him being a potential counterpart to Luz due to their Light motifs and connection to the Titan, but to sum up my speculation…

           I think Adventures in the Elements was what Belos could’ve gone through, only he never learned to cope with his disabilities the way Luz did, or the way Eda did with her curse in The Intruder… And simply was so fixated on the concept of doing magic the ‘proper’ way, through bile, that he began draining the bile of others to fit in and conform! And obviously because Belos isn’t properly accommodating his unique needs, this has had consequences for his health…

           I think he’s someone who like Boscha or Lilith, projects an image of what he wants onto others and expects them to go by that… Like the Bat Queen, he projects this idea of knowing what’s best for others because of HIS trauma. Perhaps Belos created the Coven System partially to manufacture a co-dependent relationship amongst Witches, not just so they can’t rebel, but also so they’re forced to be together…

           And THAT ties into my speculation of Lilith and Edric being attached to their respective siblings to an unhealthy extent, not caring about being their own people as long as they have companionship… Which gets me into the idea that like King in Really Small Problems, Belos wanted to have the Titan to himself as not just its lone herald but also as a friend… But unlike King, Belos actively tried to sabotage the Titan’s connections with others, the way Amity’s parents keep her from making friends with other people, how Boscha goes after Luz and Willow and blames them for Amity ‘turning against her’, that sort of thing!

           I think Episode 2 is what Belos never failed to learn; That he started off like Luz in the beginning of the episode, coping with feelings of being an outcast by believing he had a special destiny and was entitled to karmic compensation for being ostracized… But he never learned to respect and see people and situations for what they were, projecting his idea of what they SHOULD be. Belos never realized that even if he is different, nobody is inherently better than others…

          So in a twisted version of Viney and the Detention Kids only sharing the Secret Room of Shortcuts with those they trust, Belos only extends the ‘privilege’ of mixed magic to Witches he sees like him, as having worked harder than the rest, as being apart from them, which indicates some greater standing of sorts. Belos only cares for HIS people, the way the Bat Queen cares for Palismans like her and is hostile to all others… But like her, Belos projects his ideas of what ‘his’ people should be like, as well! And unlike Bat Queen, Belos never learned to move past these ideas.

          To me, I wonder if Belos is someone who was ostracized and hurt in the past, so in his attempts to elevate himself to cope, it’s led to him ‘realizing’ that there IS a natural hierarchy in this world, that it’s simply been skewed wrong and only his Coven System can uplift those who are actually worthy! But he also wants to include everyone and make them dependent on each other, so they’re ALWAYS together… just like him and the Titan, possibly!

          Honestly, there’s only so much I can speculate about Belos! There’s still a LOT more to see about him, and Season 1 was but the appetizer for this beautiful body-horror of a Cabinet Man! I could be completely wrong about all of these connections, but the fact that Matthew Rhys said that Belos might be ‘misunderstood’, coupled with the potential Luz parallels, the question of why the Coven System exists and a look into how it functions… And of course, the fact that Belos was included in a group-shot of Luz, Eda, King, Lilith, Amity, Gus, and Willow… It just makes me THINK, you know? Especially with Belos admitting he ‘likes’ Luz’s spirit…

[jawritter]

You and Me...

Chapter 3

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chatper Warnings*** 

Word Coung: 2464

Pairing: Jensen Ackles X Reader, Jared x reader, OFC Steve x Reader, OFC Justin x Reader. Misha x Reader, Jensen x Jared, Jensen x Misha

A/N: When I originally wrote this chapter I didn’t even know who Steve Carlson was, so the Steve in this story isn’t him lol. Oddly enough I wrote this before I even really knew he was making an album lol. Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

Last night was a bad night for you. You were crushed that Jensen thought you were just some slut that likes to flirt with every married man that came through the studio because not a word of that was true. The way he was looking at you when he said it. There was no emotion in his eyes whatsoever. Just coldness. He looked at you like you were just another gold-digging whore. You don’t know why his opinion of you crushed you so badly, but it did.

It’s not like it was unusual in the industry that you were working in. Groupies came all the time to hang out and see if they could land themselves an upcoming artist that has potential, then ride that ride all the way down to music row. Steve did try and keep them at bay because he couldn't stand that part of the industry. It didn’t stop them from coming, but at least he did try.

You were no groupie, you worked your ass off to get to where you were in your job. You did it yourself through straight hard work and talent. You had no favors, no handouts, nothing. Everything you had, everything you accomplished, it was all you. 

Women are looked down on in most businesses, but in the entertainment industry, that reputation of whore seems to resound past any talent a woman might have. It wasn't usual for men to come in, and treat you the way Jensen had yesterday, but when he did it, it really hurt.

The way he jerked the coffee out of your hand, not even looking at you. Like you were nothing, trash, someone that wasn't worthy to be in his presents. 

That cut you deep.

Why did you care so much what this snob thought about you? You didn't like the way his opinion of you made you feel. The way it seemed to etch itself into you, and take root there. You whipped away a stray tear that was making its way down your face.

Most of the night you dreamed of Demon Dean. Because that's who he looked like yesterday when he demanded Steve make you bring him his coffee. 

The nightmares were vivid, more vivid than you’d ever experienced in your life. 

You used to like Demon Dean. You found it to be an interesting take on Dean's character. Now though. It gave you chills. You didn't know how you were going to face Jensen today. Still, you weren't going to let it cost you your job. You’d worked too hard, and come too far to let one man’s opinion of you destroy everything you had worked to build for yourself. 

So you text Steve back for the thousandth time just this morning telling him that you were fine and would see him in a little while. Justin and Steve knew you pretty well, and they could tell how Jensen's opinion of you had affected you. You had never walked out on a job before like that. Steve knew you weren’t just not feeling well and needed to go home. He knew Jensen had gotten to you. 

You just wish you knew why it affected you so much. You never cared what people thought about you before. It didn't make sense.

You jump in the shower quickly. Not feeling real into dressing up today, which there was no dress code at your job anyway, you throw on an old black and white Slipknot band shirt Justin had bought you years ago for a dirty Santa gift at work. It was comfortable, so, therefore, it was your favorite. A black pair of skinny ripped jeans, and a pair of black and white converse. You threw your hair into a messy bun and a light dusting of makeup. Today, that was just as good as it was going to get.

You just didn't feel pretty this morning. So you didn't see any need in trying. Yesterday you did the work, and it did not go well. Business suit, perfect hair, makeup. Still, you were just a whore that liked to flirt with married men and needed to get Jensen his coffee.

As soon as you walked into the recording room this morning Justin and Steve were on their feet giving you a hug.

 "Don't pay attention to that overpaid, spoiled fuck Y/N," Justin said, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. 

"Yeah, Jen's back today. She can pack him his damn coffee, and I hope she spits in it," Steve said through gritted teeth. 

They were a little overprotective of you, so this reaction didn't surprise you. They had become like family to you over the years. They treated you like a little sister, and they had no problem going to war for you if they had to. 

You look through the glass in front of you and see Jennifer sitting up everything for the day. She was young, probably 19 or 20, you didn't really ever ask. She was pretty though. Long blonde hair. Skinnier than you were, even though you weren't really all that heavy.  Blue eyes. 

She would probably make it far in the entertainment industry one day on her looks alone. She was dressed in her usual casual skinny jeans and tank top. You smirk at the fact that Jensen was probably gonna eat her alive today since he obviously had a problem with women. She looked a little to you like a gold-digging groupie the more you thought about it. She was a working mom though, and you respected her for that. It was hard to be a young mom, much less a working young mom.

"Has Jensen arrived yet?" you turn to Steve and ask, dreading the moment he walked into the studio already. 

Also, you were inwardly regretting your outfit choice. You weren't sure who would be under attack more, Jennifer, or you. 

"No, he's running a little late. Jared will be here again today, along with Misha Collins. He's in town for some type of charity function, and Jensen invited him to come to watch a little today," Steve said, turning to his buzzing phone, and walking out of the recording room.

You turned about to say that you hoped Misha wasn't as big of an ass hole as Jensen when you saw the group of actors walk into the studio. “Well crap, here it goes.”

"Misha, this is Y/N, and Justin, that girl in there putting out drinks is Jennifer," Steve said, and you all shook Misha's hand. He greeted everyone warmly and seemed to be a genuinely friendly guy. Jensen was looking at you with a look of distaste on his face, but there was a look in his eyes that you didn't recognize, something you hadn't seen yesterday, even if he was staring at you and snarling at you in a cocky smirk.

"What is this?" he asked gesturing up, and down your small frame. He was a giant compared to you. "Casual Tuesday? You are aware that it's not Friday yet right?" he blows off in a cocky tone. 

Misha and Jared turn to stare at him, but you say nothing. Taking a deep calming breath you turn around and start logging into the equipment. Misha came and took a seat by you, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. You smile at him and watch as Jennifer enters the room. “Showtime,” you think to yourself, but boy did you get the shock, and disappointment of your life.

"Well, well, I don't believe we met yesterday. What's your name beautiful?" Jensen said, turning to Jennifer.

You felt your stomach lurch, and you fraught to hold onto your breakfast. You got up and excused yourself to the bathroom. Steve and Justin watched you like you might snap at any minute. 

Well, he wants to be a jackass then two can play at this game. You were in control of today's recording session, and today wasn't going to be an easy one, for Jensen anyway. You, on the other hand, were going to enjoy this.

You walked out of the bathroom after composing your emotions and ran headlong into the large frame that was Jared. He grabbed your shoulders to steady you and keep you from falling back on your ass. 

"Sorry," he said in a rush. 

"It's okay," you retorted, turning a little red. Could you just not do anything right today? 

"I wanted to talk to you before we got started today. I want to apologize for the way Jensen is acting toward you. I've never seen him act quite like this toward anyone. He's going a divorce. It was just finalized yesterday. He's under a lot of stress," you held your hand up to stop Jared's retort of excuses he was trying to make for his friend's attitude.

"I'm sure he will be able to blow off a little steam with Jennifer on the break. Maybe if he gets one off he won't be such a dick. Now If you'll excuse me I've got work to do," you say, pushing past Jared before he could say anything and stepping back toward the recording room.

Neither of you saw Jensen leaning against the door in the hallway. He’d heard every word that Jared had said to you, and he was livid.

"What the fuck Jar?" Jensen said, making his presence known to his friend. Jared swore under his breath, turning to face a red face; and obviously pissed Jensen. 

"I could ask you the same question," Jared said, rounding on his friend. "What you do have against Y/N? She's done nothing to you, and you act like such an ass towards her every time you open your mouth?!"

Jensen stood there with his head cocked to the side. He had been acting like a dick, he was well aware of it. Still, he couldn't help it. Whether she was doing it on purpose or not she was driving him crazy, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. She was beautiful, but that wasn't it. It was something he felt deep down in his gut every time she looked at him. It scared him a little. He thought Danneel was the love of his life, he shouldn’t be feeling this way this early after a divorce. Maybe Y/N was right, maybe he did just need to get one off...

"Do you hate her or something?" Jared said, looking at his friend's dead-looking eyes with concern. Ever since Danneel had left him it was like Jensen had just shut down emotionally. He hated it. Hated seeing his friend like this.

"No, I don't hate her Jared," Jensen said, rubbing his hand through his hair, and turning to walk back into the recording room. Not wanting to have this conversation. 

"Well, you got a real fucked up way of showing it, man," Jared said as Jensen closed the door.

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

Three hours later Jensen was about six mess ups into the same song he'd sang one thousand times. Mostly because every time you heard a note slightly off you would turn the mike on, and yell, "That's wrong, do it again". 

By now his face was red and he was getting pissed. You couldn’t help yourself though, you found it deeply satisfying. Every time you made him start over Jared and Misha would laugh hysterically behind you. Both of them thought that Jensen was getting exactly what he deserved. Jensen had obviously met his match.

"This whole house had got to be shaken.'."

"Wrong. Do it again."

"This whole house had got to be shaken.'."

"Wrong. Do it again."

"This whole house had got to be shaken’."

"Wrong. Do it again."

"This whole house had got to be shaken'."

"Wrong. Do it again."

This time Jensen had all he could take. 

"What is your fucking problem you bitch," he yelled into the microphone, and the whole room fell silent as the two of you stared at each other. Jensen was on his feet breathing heavily. His voice was slightly hoarse from trying to hit the same note over and over again. Still, he was slightly off every time, and you had every intention to make him do it until he got it right. The miss was so subtle that you would have to be listening to really hear it, most people wouldn’t have even caught it, and that's what made it fun for you. You were gonna make this ass hole lose his shit. Just like he was trying to do you. You were going to beat him in his own game.

You reached over and turned the speaker back on, staring at him, not even blinking. Everyone in the room was holding their breath. 

"You keep hitting the wrong note. You are gonna do it until you get it right. Now... Again..."

You stare at him coldly, and he looked at you like if you were a man he'd hit you. Misha started to snicker under his breath behind you, leaning over he whispered to Jared, "I like this one." 

You try to hide the smirk that threatens to play at your lips.

Jensen put his guitar back on his shoulder and began to strum the chorus again. Looking at you with a shit-eating grin on his face this time, which confused you a little. Was he enjoying this? Damn that man was gorgeous. Too bad he was a dick.

"This whole house had got to be shaken'," 

That time he hit it. He even realized when he hit it. The look of shock sat on everyone in the room's face. He finished out the chorus and you came back on the mic. 

He was standing there staring at you. A hard, yet mischievous look on his face. Something in his eyes lighting up for the first time since you met him. 

"That's a wrap," you say over the spacker, turning to Justin and Steve who were both grinning at you too. 

"Shut it down. That's enough for today," with that, you grabbed your stuff, hugged Misha who was laughing uncontrollably at the look on Jensen's face as you hugged Jared too; then left for the day more than a little proud of yourself. 

This man, he does something to you. Something you don't quite understand. He pulls a side of you out that you never knew was there, but you kinda like it. If you were being honest. You had forgotten what it felt like to stand up against something on your own two feet. 

Ever since you moved back to Austin after the death of both your parents, you had lost your fight somehow, and you hadn’t even realized it. Jensen seemed to be pulling that fight out of you, even if he didn’t mean to do it, or realize that he was doing it. 

You needed this challenge, and you sure as fuck weren’ going to let him win. 

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[melmothblog]

Ask Responses: Tough Questions #1

What is your opinion on today’s ideal of the long thin dancers that Balanchine liked/preferred and Russia’s immense popularisation of it (later becoming the new standard of the desired ballet body)? And why do you think Skorik, compared to other Russian dancers, get so much more attention regarding her body and how unhealthy she looks from the Western media?

I’ve received some tough questions recently (six of the, to be exact). I find these particular questions challenging for a number of reasons: some subject matters are potentially controversial; my personal opinion on certain subjects is not especially nice and I’m cautious when it comes to sharing it; or I simply don’t have enough information to give a good answer. Either way, I will do my best to answer these questions honestly. 

I always get uncomfortable when the subject of the “ballet body” comes up. Over the past five years I’ve seen female dancers bullied online for the way they look. Either these women are too thin or too fat – there is no in-between – and people are always eager to let them know how they feel about their bodies. Often, these comments are presented in a form of “concern” for the dancers’ health, and I find this unbelievably patronising! People never stop to think about the effect their words can have on someone. I know that some dancers had to temporarily leave social media because these comments became too much to handle.

First thing’s first: we’re talking about female bodies, and we need to acknowledge that there is a lot of historical and societal context attached to this subject.

When it comes to aesthetics in ballet, I’ve learned that every country is different. Come to think of it, beauty standards – especially for women – also differ from culture to culture, and tend to change over generations. Back in the 19th and early 20th century, thinness was associated with illness (consumption), and you saw this beauty standard reflected in ballerinas of the time. Of course, since then ballet itself has changed drastically, and the evolving technique has affected the bodies as much as the evolving beauty standards have. I think what we’re seeing now is a resurgence of the old views, and thinness is once again equated with poor health. This is particularly prevalent in the West. The problem I have with this is that instead of questioning the system (and I’m not just talking about ballet here), people focus on specific women and their bodies, because, historically, society has always felt a lot of ownership over female bodies.

-

Umberto Eco’s “On Beauty” illustrates the evolution of beauty standards over the centuries. Go here and skip to page 15.

-

When it comes to modern-day ballet bodies, Zakharova is widely considered the golden standard: long, thin limbs; flat torso; small head; arches for days, etc. Her proportions really do make her look stunning on stage, and she follows a diet that keeps her healthy and strong, as well as thin! The problem with holding this one body type up as “the ideal” is that not that many dancers can live up to it. We all have different genetic make-up, and if we try to fit a template our bodies were never meant for, we can severely damage our physical and mental health. In the documentary “Beautiful Tragedy”, Oksana Skorik talks about being compared to (and comparing herself to) a classmate who was skinnier than her, and becoming anorexic as a result of trying to copy her. Trying to achieve uniformity without taking individuality into consideration can lead to disaster. This is something Joy Womack has talked about as well. During her time at BBA, she was pitted agains another student by her teacher to see who could lose more weight... By the way, I think that “Beautiful Tragedy” is partly the reason Skorik gets singled out in the West over other Russian dancers. She’d already gone on record talking about her body and her health.

-

-

I realise that this answer is turning into a bloody essay, so let me try and summarise my feelings in dot points: 

Having a “standard” is fine, but dancers must be carefully guided to achieving and maintaining this standard, and their genetic makeup, body type and individuality must be taken into account.

Achieving complete uniformity is, ultimately, impossible. Instead, we should learn how each dancer can reach their fullest potential and get the most out of their body without compromising their health. Individual approach is key.

From the moment they start training, ballet students must be given tools to properly manage their health, weight and body image. 

Different cultures have different “standards”. Instead of criticising each other for the way we look, we must investigate why those standards are there in the first place and question if these standards are healthy.

For the people in the back: You do not have the right to anyone’s body. Whether you’re a member of the media or a “concerned” member of the public – keep your opinions to yourself.

d i s c l a i m e r

[puckinghell]

The Moment You Know | Gabe Landeskog

Summary: Based on “The Moment I Knew” by Taylor Swift. Words: 3337 Note: Angst angst angst I’m sorry. In fact, I wasn’t planning on ever posting this cause I usually don’t do angst. But it’s summer and nobody is here so. Why not. 

You’ve never been a big fan of going out, not one to hang around in bars or get smashed in clubs. You much prefer getting drunk in your friend’s backyard or watching Netflix series until your eyes close on their own, but tonight, your friend hadn’t put up with it.

“Come on, Y/N, you’ve had a shitty week, let’s just get shitfaced and dance, maybe meet some cute guys.”

It was true that your week hasn’t been the best. Your boss was an asshole, always making little comments about your appearance, and on Tuesday, you’d finally snapped, telling him that the way you curled your hair really was none of his business.

The good thing was that he’d not made another comment again. The bad thing was that now, you didn’t have a job anymore.

On Wednesday, your car broke down, and you didn’t have the money to get it fixed now that you were unemployed. On Thursday, you ran into your ex at the grocery store, where he was flaunting his much prettier, much skinnier new girlfriend in your face. And on Friday, this morning, you’d dropped your cereal all over the kitchen floor.

That honestly might’ve been the worst of all.

So, no, Lacey wasn’t wrong about this being a bad week for you, and she was also not wrong about you needing to get your mind off of it. In fact, you were pretty sure if you spent one more night alone with all these thoughts in your mind, you’d actually be ready for an asylum, so you’d agreed.

That’s how you currently find yourself sitting on a barstool, leaning over the bar, tipping back your fourth – or fifth? – gin and tonic, complaining about your life to Lacey. You’re pretty sure she’s not been listening to you for at least 10 minutes, but the alcohol has loosened your tongue and you’re not sure you could stop talking even if you tried.

“I just want one good thing to happen to me,” you whine, resting your chin in your hands. “One! Just, let me find some money in a coat pocket, or some nice stranger buys me a coffee. Just a little pick me up, you know?”

You go to take a sip of your drink, but at the exact moment you do, someone steps back and bumps into you, sending your glass flying out of your hand and the drink spilling down your chest.

A curse escapes your lips and the person who bumped into you yelps. He turns around with lightning speed, grabbing your arm and stopping you from falling off the barstool.

Maybe five drinks was closer to the real amount than four after all.

“I’m so sorry,” the stranger says, and the first thing you notice is that he looks genuinely remorseful.  The second thing you notice is that he’s really hot.

If you’d not been so miserable, maybe you would’ve thought it a happy accident.

“Of course,” you groan, steadying yourself on the barstool and slamming down your – now empty – glass on the counter. “Of course! Couldn’t let me have this one night, could you, universe!”

It’s dramatic and way too much of a reaction but you can’t help but feel like the world is crashing down on you. Instead of running away screaming, like he probably ought to have, the stranger raises an eyebrow.

“I can just buy you a new drink, you know,” he says dryly, and you shoot him a dirty look.

“Can you just buy me a dry shirt, as well?” you bite, but to your surprise, he doesn’t look feigned at all. No, instead, he laughs.

“You can have mine?” he offers, and that’s when you pause your anger at the world to actually take a look at him.

The guy in front of you is tall and muscular, a dark button up stretching around his arm muscles. He’s blonde, with a little scruff – but not so much that it makes him look scrappy – and he has the most amazing, kind blue eyes you’ve ever seen. He has one eyebrow raised and his lips are curled up slightly at the ends, like he’s trying to fight off a smile.

He looks yum, and you almost take him up on his offer to give you his shirt.

But that wouldn’t be classy and you’re nothing if not classy, so you sigh. “No, it’s fine, it’ll dry.”

That’s when Lacey pipes up. “But definitely buy her a new drink. She’s had a week.” Ever the wingwoman, she’s noticed the way the guy’s eyes raked over your body, and your own inspection of him hasn’t gone unnoticed either.

“Oh, well, in that case.” The guy grins at you now, before turning to the bar and ordering another gin and tonic. He gets himself a beer, and situates his body between you and Lacey, leaning against the bar. “You wanna tell me about your week?”

“Do I look like the type to vent all my problems to a complete stranger?” you tell him, even though at the moment, you probably kinda do look like that type.

You kinda are that type, when said stranger looks like this one.

The guy laughs lightly and extends his hand, shaking yours. His grip is firm but not overpowering, and, somehow, it’s actually kinda hot when his fingers brush across your knuckles.

“I’m Gabe,” he says. “26, from Sweden originally, but now living here in Denver, I have a dog called Zoey and my favorite food is mac and cheese.” He looks proud of himself as he continues. “See, not a total stranger anymore. You basically know as much about me as my friends.”

You quickly tell him some facts about you, then go off on a rant, about your job and your stupid ex boyfriend and your damn car and your cereal, to which he laughs.

“Really?” he hums. “All that and it’s the breakfast food that gets you?”

You glare at him. “I take my breakfast very seriously, I’ll have you know.”

He rolls his eyes at you, then rests his hand on your arm. Spikes of electricity seem to shoot up your skin where he touches you and his little eyeroll makes you laugh, and suddenly, the rest of your week doesn’t seem like such a disaster anymore.

And that’s the moment you know you want him to take you home.

Gabe went home with you that night, and you might’ve thought it would just be a one time thing, but somehow you find yourself going back to him night after night. In the beginning, it’s just because you’re lonely and he doesn’t really have anything going on with anyone either, and, well, it’s like you complete each other, at least in the bedroom.

He knows how to push all your buttons and you know exactly how to get him there, and when his lips are pressing featherlight kisses into your hips, or his teeth are nipping at your thighs, you completely forget all your insecurities about the stretchmarks and the extra meat there and just exist, there with him, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with someone else.

Usually, you wake up earlier than him; despite you not having a job, you’re used to wake up early from your previous one, and your body clock simply refuses to reset. Gabe, however, is used to late nights, performing at night, and sleeping in a little longer, which means that you’re always up and out of his house before he’s even wake.

One morning, however, you wake up and he’s not there. It annoys you slightly, because your favorite thing to do when you wake up is to just lay there for a few minutes and watch him sleep. It sounds creepy, but it’s not really; he just looks so peaceful and comfortable like that, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and his chest rising and falling steadily with every breath.

You can hear the shower running, however, and the thought of a potential repeat of last night gets rid of that annoyance quickly.

“Goodmorning,” Gabe’s raspy morning voice sounds, when you close the bathroom door behind you.

“Want company?” you respond, and when he hums in affirmation, you slip into the shower with him, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting him kiss the top of your head. It’s innocent enough, at first, with him shampooing your hair and you simply kissing his chest, and it’s almost too domestic, makes you wonder if you’re crossing some kind of line you’re not sure either of you has actually set in place. So you press your ass against his crotch and the innocence wears off quite quickly after that, leaving you a moaning mess pressed against the cold hard tiles of the bathroom wall.

You take a bit longer than Gabe to get dressed and ready after that, and when you finally get downstairs, the apartment smells like pancakes and you see Gabe behind the stove, whistling along to a country song that’s on the radio. When he sees you, he smiles, and before you realize what’s happening, he’s dramatically lipsinging to Simple by Florida Georgia Line, and then you’re dancing, he’s spinning you under his arm in the kitchen and you’re both laughing when he burns the pancakes, and as you watch him throw the pit black pancakes in the trash, realization hits you like a truck.

That’s the moment you know you’re in love with him.  

Gabe likes your apartment better than his own, because his is big and empty and yours is filled with little knick knacks and feels like home, so one day he brings Zoey over and from that point on neither of them really ever leave.

You don’t mind; you found a new job and coming home to a dog wagging her tail and Gabe in the kitchen or on the couch, makes the apartment feel more like home than it probably ever has before. When Gabe goes on road trips, Zoey stays with you, and you’re happy she does because it feels like a piece of Gabe gets left behind.

You miss him when he’s not there. That realization hits you one night when you’re laying in bed wearing one of his hoodies, Zoey curled up at your side while you’re watching a Netflix movie about… well, you don’t really know, because all you’ve been doing is scrolling through Twitter, looking at what people are saying about the Avs.

Their fans are great, but some of hockey Twitter isn’t a fan, and they’re louder; there’s criticism that’s fair and balanced, but mostly it’s just completely ridiculous, rude takes that include yells like “they suck” “why are they even a hockey team” “trade them all”, and the worst one, “Landeskog isn’t even a good captain”.

The words ignite a fire in your bones and you’re burning with anger. You know how hard Gabe is working to get this team back on track and you know he’s the only reason the locker room is as tight as it is, and most importantly, you’ve seen the toll this is taking on him, seen the exhaustion set in his features and felt the tiredness in his limbs.

You want nothing more than to throw your phone against the wall but you know that won’t help you much, so instead you throw it on the floor and turn around to bury your face in your pillow so you can scream without the neighbors thinking you’re getting murdered. Zoey barely looks up, simply accepting that you’re a bit dramatic sometimes.

That’s when you hear the door click into the lock downstairs and now Zoey reacts, jumping up and running downstairs.

“Hey, baby,” you hear Gabe’s tired voice echo through the hallway, and you wait for his heavy footsteps up the stairs. He walks into the bedroom with Zoey on his heels, smiles at you before dumping his bag on the floor and then he flops onto the bed face first. He’s still wearing his suit and his dress shoes, but he’s just lying there limply, letting out a soft puff of air as he pushes his face closer to you, resting his head against your thigh. You reach out and thread your fingers through his blond locks, and he hums appreciatively.

“Rough trip,” you declare more than asks, and he nods with a sigh.

“When is it not, lately,” he growls softly, and you watch as he closes his eyes and leans into your hand like a cat looking for a scratch. “Let’s just not talk about it.”

You want to be there for whatever he needs, want to let it go if that’s what he wants, but you’re genuinely not sure if you can, not when the anger is still vile in your throat and you feel something burning behind your eyes.

You sink down, slowly moving down the bed until your face is at the same height as his, your noses almost touching. He smiles.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you hum back, pressing your lips against his. “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

Something softens in his eyes and you can tell he’s being 100% truthful when he says: “That’s really all that matters to me, anyway.”

That’s when you know this could really be a once in a lifetime love.  

The only sound that can be heard is the clicking of your nails against your phone screen, and then the noise your phone makes to tell you your message has been send.

Hey, you, I’m just now leaving, can I come around later?

You leave work and go home, take a shower and get dressed, then sit on the couch and with a deep breath, pick up your phone.

No messages. No missed calls.

It’s been like this for a while now; Gabe is not staying over nearly as often and never seems to answer your texts the same day, and although you still have Zoey with you, it’s starting to eat at you from the inside.

You know its playoff hockey and he’s busy, but he’s not even bothered to react to any of the good luck texts you’ve been sending, and you know he’s in Denver today cause they’re playing at home tomorrow, and you just really hoped you’d see him tonight.

You’re not even sure you can remember the last time you saw him. Last week? Two weeks ago? Times goes fast when it goes by in a daze, and you feel like you’ve been sleepwalking for weeks.

Another morning, another text.

Good morning, are you busy?

Of course he’s busy, he’s always busy, but what you’re really asking is are you too busy for me. Cause when you started dating, the first few months, the answer to that question was always no. It didn’t matter if he had a game or practice, if there was a media scrum or if he had plans with the team. He might not respond right away, but he’d always respond, always make time for you at some point of the day, and even if it was past midnight when he got home, he always got home.

It had started to feel like your apartment was his home. But clearly, it’s not like that anymore.

You walk Zoey and buy groceries, then you vacuum your apartment before you allow yourself to check your phone again.

A message.

But not the kind you hoped.

Yeah, really busy babe. You okay? Talk to you tomorrow alright?

Tomorrow, always tomorrow. But tomorrow hasn’t come for a few weeks now and you’re starting to think it’ll never come.

I’m fine.

Normally, Gabe looks straight through you. It’s one of the things you love about him, how you can’t bullshit him, how he knows you without you even trying, how he’s just simply always there when you need him. How, when you say you’re fine, even though you’re not, he simply scoffs and takes you in his arms and kisses you and makes it feel like it won’t be long before you’re fine again.

But this time he doesn’t answer, and you’re not fine.

That’s the moment you know it’s not going to be fine in a while.

“Hey girl! How are you doing?” Lacey has you wrapped up in a hug before you’ve even fully opened the door and you laugh as you hug her back.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” you tell her honestly, and she laughs.

“Are you serious, your birthday party? I wouldn’t miss that for the world, you know that!”

An uneasy feeling creeps up on you, but you push it away.

Gabe said he’d be here. He’ll be here. You just need to give him a little time.

You open a bottle of wine, get drinks for all your friends and family. Everyone is around, everyone you love is there to celebrate your birthday, and yet, you can’t let yourself be happy. Every time one of your friends asks you about Gabe, your heart sinks a little further into your stomach.

“Where is he, Zoey?” you whisper to the dog, scratching her ear.

The hours pass by, and fear is creeping into your veins. All you’ve been picturing, all night, is the front door bursting open, Gabe coming in with that “baby I’m right here, everything’s fine” smile of his, the one you love so much that calms your heartbeat and feels like coming home, but so far, the door has remained shut. So now you’re standing there, in your new dress, with absolutely nobody to impress, and you can’t help that the tears that have been burning behind your eyes for weeks are finally starting to push their way through.

You would’ve been so happy.

You can feel yourself breaking, can feel your defenses crumbling and your hope crashing, and you just wanna be alone. But no sooner have you sank down onto the bathroom floor, and Lacey is there, wrapping her arms around you and whispering soft words into your ear as you cry, sobs seemingly tearing your body apart from the inside out.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she says miserably, because a best friend always knows when there’s something really wrong, and she knows exactly what’s hurting you.

“He said he’d be here,” you bring out, but Lacey doesn’t react, because what are you supposed to say to that? What are you supposed to do when the one person that means the most to you doesn’t show up?

Again?

You don’t know how long you sit there, but finally there’s no more tears to cry, no more energy left into your body.

“We’re not gonna let him ruin this for you, baby,” Lacey says, her voice kind but determined. She grabs a make up wipe and starts cleaning up your face. “We’re gonna go out there and they’re gonna sing happy birthday to you and you’re gonna get drunk and forget all about his dumb ass, okay? Look, we’ve got the best Landeskog here.”

You release a breathy laugh when you notice that Zoey has come waggling into the bathroom, releasing a long sigh when she lays down with her head on your thigh, and you somehow manage to pick yourself up and force yourself back inside, back to your party, with all the people that love you.

And without the one person that’s supposed to love you the most.

They sing you happy birthday and you try to keep up a conversation with your relatives and all your friends seem to notice something’s up, but none of them mention it, instead making silly jokes to try and get you to laugh, and more often than not, you actually do. But when everyone’s left, you sink into the couch, no more power or energy in your bones, your mind dull and dark.

He calls you later, says “I’m sorry I didn’t make it.” And you tell him that you’re sorry too.

But that is the moment you know.

[dxmedstudent]

Have you ever had some periods in your life where you felt pressure to grow up really quickly (i.e. be in relationships etc)? I'm nearly 20 and I kinda feel that way, I really want to focus on becoming the woman I want to be and shaping the type of life I want to lead before entering any potentially heavy relationships but I feel there's this massive narrative that I would be a latebloomer/infantile. Do you have any advice?

Hello, that’s a very interesting question, so you’re probably going to get a long answer. Please bear with my waffliness, hopefully my answer will cheer you up. I think growing up is immensely difficult, because you’re going through a huge change. Now, I know we technically become adults at 18, but did any of us really feel like grownups at 18? I certainly didn’t! Even into my early 20s, I still felt like I’d just left school! It was only in my mid 20s that I fully realised I was a proper grownup. And that’s scary, because suddenly you realise it’s your life to muck up however you wish. Until then, your life is pretty much laid out for you, and you’re waiting for it to really begin. The weirdest (and most freeing) feeling I remember from that time was looking down at my body and realising “this is me. I’m not going to get any taller. I’m not going to get any skinnier, probably. I’m not going to get prettier. I’m not going to get healthier. But it’s OK.” And I realised that a lot of the things that I hadn’t liked about myself when I was a teenager weren’t so bad, after all. I was OK, and that was enough. After the tumultuous time that is our teens, your 20s is a time when you really grow into being an adult. But it takes time to really get to know yourself and what you want out of life.

It can be hard when you compare yourself to your friends. For example, I was still in university on my second degree when some of my friends had gotten jobs, moved out and bought cars. A couple had even settled down. You know, grownup stuff. Meanwhile, myself and my other grad med student friends were living in student accommodation or with our parents, doing homework, and feeling a bit like our teens had gone on for way too long. You feel financially insecure as a forever-student. And a bit left behind. I personally gave quite a few clothes and things to charity because I didn’t want to feel like I was the same person as when I was in school. We reminded ourselves that we were working on our goals. Some of my friends felt very conscious of their ages, many still do. But my motto tends to be “If I am doing something I love, then that time is not wasted. You never feel that time passing is a problem.”  So the key is to do what you love. Things that make you feel happy, and like you are advancing your life.Eventually, I moved out, got a job doctoring and stressing even more, paid bills and rent, bought a car and started worrying about planning for the future. Put more effort into looking after myself, and planning my career. And it didn’t really feel like it changed anything. I mean it did; life’s more complex and stressy when you take on “adult responsibilities” and the first year of doctorhood is like a yearlong panic attack. Bt once you get used to it, you realise that grownup life is overrated. You’ll be surprised at how not-different you feel even if you have all or most of the “grown up” milestones ticked off. The thing is, milestones such as these used to be something we hit earlier. You finished school (if you were lucky enough to study at all, not all my grandparents finished secondary school!), you got married, you had kids and settled into grownup life. Western terms, the expected order for the last few generations has been school - > university  - >job - >house - >marriage - >kids. But give the financial sitation Millenials are left with, these things don’t always work out. We’re more likely to go to university than previous generations, which tends to correlate with a delay in settling down or having kids; it’s just easier to do those things once studies are out of the way, so lots of people wait. Having a house, or a job nearby is hardly guaranteed, so we all end up renting for longer than previous generations.  You get plenty of people in the UK who are in their late 30s before they can afford to settle down in the traditional sense of the word. What I’m trying to say is that it’s not just you; our generations are acting differently, because the forces acting on our lives are different. So we have to be flexible in how we view adulthood. Most of my friends span between the mid 20s to mid 30s, with myself somewhere in the middle. By now, all of us have very different lives. Some got married young, a few have a child or two. some are in committed relationships, others are single. Actually, amongst medics I know, a lot more people are single than I ever expected. And for the most part, they are perfectly happy, with fulfilling lives. TV does not prepare you for the fact that your 20s or 30s isn’t like a romcom. Like on TV everyone just sort of meets people without any effort, and gets into longterm relationships, and everything ends happily ever after. It’s just not like that. Some of my friends have been trying so hard to be in the right relationship. For so many years. They had it all planned out; the guy, the kids, the house, all by 25. It just didn’t happen, but not for want of trying. It made me realise that there’s really no point in adding extra stress to ourselves about this, because it’s kind of outside our control. If you want to date, date, but please don’t force unnecessary arbitrary timeframes on yourself. Because feeling pressured risks settling just to get it over with. And when you know people who’ve settled or who’ve divorced by their mid 20s or early 30s it reminds you that you have to be really sure you’re in the right relationship. Getting married definitely isn’t just something to tick off your list.  But also a reminder that you can’t predict everything that will happen; I’m sure those people didn’t see t coming. So worrying too far ahead won’t help. We can only take things one step at a time and hope for the best. Just today I was having a Whatsapp coversation with my former roomates and besties about how pressure to date coming from family is frustrating, because sometimes it’s just not a priority for you. My friend, let’s call her Squirrel, to give her due credit. She said something very wise:  “ I’m really grateful to have a job that’s meaningful, and friends and interests, think if a person comes along to share that with great, but I don’t think it would be good to force it just to tick boxes.”And I think we all agreed, because we viewed dating pretty similarly. Personally,  there have been times when I have been more committed to dating (and when you like someone doesn’t it just feel like it’s all you think about? XD) , and there were times when it was literally the last thing from my mind. Just like my friend said. And that’s true for most of my friends. Like, sitcoms don’t prepare you for the fact that sometimes you’re just happy to chill and don’t really feel the need to look. And that when you do look, your reasons might not be like they are on TV. TV has a lot to answer for in how it depicts being single, especially single women.  I’m going to focus on single women who date men here, purely because the dominant narrative mostly ignores LGBT dating. Single women on TV are either bitter and angry or sad that they can’t get a man, or labelled too dysfunctional to be able to love. But in reality, people have lots of reasons for being single, just as they have lots of reasons for being in relationships. The more stuff you go through, and the more your friends go through, the more you realise it’s nothing like TV. Being single, dating, being in a longterm relationship; all of these can be either happy and content, or miserable depending on the circumstances in your life at that time. Sometimes we feel the need for companionship, and there’s no harm in meeting new people and seeing if anyone clicks; I’m not here to denigrate dating, or “looking for the one”, or wanting some casual fun. If it’s what you want to do, and many of us do.  If you want to meet someone, then logically, you have to make an effort at some point. If you don’t feel the need for it right now, then you don’t have to do it right now. I promise you as someone who has spent a lot of time single, for the most part nobody cares. The older you get, the more you realise that people aren’t overly invested in what you do, not even your friends. Sure, I’m ecstatic if my friend is dating someone she likes, and I’l be the first to cry at a wedding (God I love weddings. The merest hint of my friends actually being happy makes me weak). But does it actually affect me if they are single; no, we just chill together. And if they have a cool guy, then we chill together in a group. Our teenage years are so full of judgement (like, I, a grown woman, still have hangups about music of all things, because of teenage girls), but when you reach adulthood and you get out of the claustrophobic school environment, you realise other people don’t really care as much as you feared they would. Any ‘friend’ who does judge you for being single is not a great friend. But I promise, they will be few and far between.  I will grant you that family pressure can be real; my friends and I were discussing this in the context of parents wanting have grandchildren. Some of my relatives are incredibly pushy about the issue, offering to set me up with randoms they’ve picked out (er… no thanks) and generally constantly asking me about when I’ll get married, even at the most inopportune times imaginable. Like, they can be ridiculous. So I’ve NEVER told them ANYTHING about my dating life. I just smile and say “We’ll see.” and wonder to myself if they’d even get invited if I get married. People tend to view the age of 30 (or 25) as a kind of deadline by which to have achieved all your dreams. It really isn’t! So go for what you want to do now, and just remember to evaluate your priorities once in a while. These are my simple rules:1) don’t leave anything you value as essential in last place.  2) You choose what is important to you. 3) The order of priorities can change at any time; go with your heart. 4) don’t wait til everything is perfect in your life, in order to do the things you want to do.  Because it’s easy to get wrapped up and not realise that what you want has changed. If you ever feel that being in a relationship or having kids has become more important, then bring it up a few levels in priority.  Now, we all know that there’s a sort-of time limit on having kids, but 20 is not it. So if it’s something you really want, then don’t leave it til your late 30s to start dating. But otherwise, just do what you want to do now. If you want companionship, just see where meeting people for fun goes. If you would rather focus on work, then do that. But remember that if kids or a relationship are really important to you, you may have to prioritise them eventually, in order to stand a chance at having them happen. For some people they are an extra. For some they are essential. For some, they are the last thing they want! Only you know how much things matter to you.Think about what you want out of life, and take little steps towards achieving it bit by bit. As long as you’re working towards the goals that you value, then your life will be an interesting journey that you’ll enjoy along the way. I hope your journey is awesome  :)

[bucketsofgiggles]

Other Side of the Door (MP 100 fanfic)

Summary: It can hurt when you see your friends make the same mistakes you do, but Serizawa knows that reaching a hand out in the darkness can do a lot. Speculation on what might happen after the current manga arc. Spoilers for the current manga arc. Teen and up, gen. Content warnings for depression and implied disordered eating. AO3 link here

Serizawa gave a second glance down at his phone to check his GPS app, confirming that the directions read “Arrived at destination”. He looked back up at the house he stood outside of, before triple checking the GPS.

It wasn’t like he thought this couldn’t be the Kageyama household - it was a perfectly respectable house for a family of four - but he really had to make sure he had the correct house. He’d never been to the Kageyama’s before, and all the houses in this neighborhood looked similar to each other and he’d rather not knock on the wrong door. Coming unannounced was nerve wracking enough; going up to the wrong house unannounced would probably kill all the courage he’d build up to come out here. And he couldn’t let that happen. Kageyama-kun needed him.

He’d gotten Kageyama-kun’s address from Reigen earlier, after they had talked this morning. His boss had come into the office looking frazzled and dismayed, bypassing his desk to go straight to the couch, head in hands. Serizawa had quickly checked to make sure the sign was still flipped to “Closed” before joining Reigen on the couch.

Comfort was still something Serizawa was learning to give, and he was a bit relieved when Reigen leaned into the hand he had put on his shoulder. There was a few moments of silence before Reigen sighed and spoke “I went to see Mob yesterday. Or more like tried to.”

“How is he?” Serizawa asked. It had been a few weeks since Kageyama-kun’s accident and all that had followed, and he’d been out of the hospital for a week. They had both tried to see him while he was recovering, but do to the severity of his injuries and the circumstances surrounding them, visitors had been limited to immediate family. Neither knew much of the details, but apparently Kageyama-kun’s powers had reversed somehow when he awoke from the state he had entered and it fixed most of the damage. With the additions of his young age and that he didn’t go out with the intention of damaging the city, the government had decided to exonerate him from any potential crimes. Once he was released from the hospital, he had been allowed to return home.

And since then, Kageyama-kun hasn’t left his home.

Neither he nor Reigen was surprised when he didn’t come into work right away. He was probably still recovering from the massive power usage and his physical injuries. Plus, both of them understood that he might need a break from using his powers. But when Reigen learned that Kageyama-kun hadn’t returned to school, he made the decision to go visit after work. Especially because he had been contacted by Kageyama-kun’s younger brother Ritsu, in a move that must’ve been very uncharacteristic of him, judging Reigen’s reaction to the phone call.

“I literally had the door slammed in my face,” Reigen said, trying to put some mirth in his voice and attempting a grin. But it slid off as the mirth fell flat and Reigen turned serious. “He isn’t talking to anyone . Not his friends at school, not Hanazawa, not his parents, not even Ritsu. His parents told me that he isn’t leaving his room, not even to eat. They have to bring his plate up to his door and leave it there, and he’ll leave the empty plate outside later.

“Ritsu called me to talk to him because he thought I might be the only one left he’d listen too. But Mob wouldn’t even look me in the eye, didn’t even try to hear what I had to say. I just talked to a shut door,” Reigen sighed, looking up at Serizawa with red rimmed eyes. “I don’t know how Mob’s gonna recover from this. I’m worried he never will.”

Serizawa could not let that happen, he just couldn’t . Not after what Kageyama-kun had done for him, for so many people. And it was that thought that gave him the resolve to open the front gate, walk up to the door, and ring the doorbell.

After a few moments, a woman answered the door, only opening it enough to stick her head out. Exhaustion clearly lined her features. “Hello?”

“H-Hello there, um…” Serizawa took a quick breath. “Is this the Kageyama household?” At her small nod, he continued. “My name is Serizawa Katsuya, and I work with your eldest son, S-Shigeo. I was wondering if I could speak with him?”

Kageyama-kun’s mother stared at him for a minute. “Serizawa, is that correct?” He nodded. “Shigeo has mentioned you a few times. You should know he isn’t taking visitors.”

“I’m...aware. But I have been in a situation similar to the one your son is in now.” She flinched slightly and Serizawa had to swallow a new batch of nerves the movement brought before continuing. “And he helped me out of it. I wish to at least attempt to do the same. May I at least try?”

Kageyama-kun’s mother glanced to the ground for a few moments, biting her lip slightly. Serizawa glanced away, giving her some space to think. After a bit, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and met Serizawa’s eyes. He tried not to shrink under the suddenly intense stare she was giving him. “You may try,” She said, opening the door more and Serizawa stepped in, removing his shoes. He could see Ritsu sitting at the kitchen table, staring at them, forgotten textbooks in front of him.

“Shigeo’s bedroom is up the stairs on the right,” Kageyama-kun’s mother said. As Serizawa began to go upstairs, she grabbed on to his arm suddenly, causing him to stumble lightly. He turned and met her eyes, full of desperation. He found he could not look away as she spoke.

“Please get through to him. Help him . I’m running out of ideas to help my own son.”

Surprisingly, Serizawa did not feel him shrink or wither at her plea. Instead, a sense of resolve filled him as he met her stare. “I’ll do my best.”

As he climbed the stairs, the muttered conversation echoing below his feet, he tried not to think of how he saw his own mother in her eyes.

Kageyama-kun’s bedroom was not difficult to find, right around the corner of the stairs. He stood in front of it, debating knocking, before realizing that would just get him rejected completely. As rude as it was, he would have to just open the door and let himself in.

It still took few minutes of mental preparation before Serizawa could even put his hand on the doorknob. And even then he could not push down. Whatever was waiting for him beyond this door, it would resemble his past, his far back past, the one he never liked to think about. He spent 15 long years locked away from the world. He lost his youth to his fear, his anxieties over his powers. He missed out on so much growth, so many experiences and activities and excitement, because he feared hurting people, because he had been hurt by others rejection. He was starting his life over at 30 because of this.

He would not let any other person, especially not Kageyama-kun, repeat his mistakes.

With that thought in mind, he turned the knob and entered the room.

It was dark, far darker than the rest of the house, but Serizawa noticed it wasn’t as filthy as his room had been. Then again, he had tried to keep his room clean before the apathy took over. It gave him some hope to see that Kageyama-kun hadn’t seemed to reach that stage yet.

Remembering what Reigen had told him earlier, he fully stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. It was that noise that alerted Kageyama-kun to Serizawa’s presence, judging by the movement underneath the futon that had escaped Serizawa’s notice until now. Kageyama-kun slowly made his way out from under the covers, blinking up at Serizawa as he moved to a standing position.

Serizawa felt his heart hurt at the state Kageyama-kun was in, to the point he realized Reigen hadn’t gotten a good look at him. He didn’t think it would be this bad in only a week. Kageyama-kun’s hair was disheveled and slightly tangled, he was wearing his pyjamas and, despite the fact he was apparently getting food, was skinnier than Serizawa remembered him being. His face had the look of someone who was oversleeping and hiseyes . Serizawa was struck cold by how haunted they looked, so old and hardened for a 14-year-old.

He was beginning to realize he had underestimated the challenge this would be.

“Serizawa-san? Why are you here?” Kageyama-kun croaked out, voice obviously underused. When Serizawa didn’t answer right away, he spoke again. “You need to leave, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

In a blink of an eye, Serizawa had gone back 3 years, to the day the President came to his house, handed him an umbrella, and fed him false promises about re-entering the world. Only now, he wasn’t sitting on the floor, looking at the President. He was looking at himself , scared and confused, afraid of hurting the person across the room from him.

He was on the other side of the door now. He was the one standing over an esper terrified of himself and the outside world. But he couldn’t give him false promises of quick control and an easy life outside. He had to do this the hard way of telling the truth.

“It’s okay, Kageyama-kun, you can’t hurt me,” Serizawa said, slowly entering the room. But all that did was make Kageyama-kun yelp and dart to the back of the room, curling up on himself and not meeting Serizawa’s eyes. He sighed, and sat down, working to get on his level. He wasn’t going to be the President, standing over him patronizingly.

“Somedays the days I spent in my old bedroom feel like lifetimes ago. Those are good days; days where we help a client with a big problem and they leave with their life so much better. Days where I score well on a test or understand the math concept the first time it’s explained. Days where I wake up and the birds are singing and the sun is warm and I feel good about myself.” He looks at the ceiling as he talks, respecting Kageyama-kun’s wish for no eye contact.

“But there are hard days. Days I don’t want to get out of bed. Days where the world seems to loud, too crowded. Days where I can feel my powers pulse under my skin like it’s trying to break out and I fear that we’ll have a client with a truly spiritual need and I’ll hurt them trying to exorcise it. And some days I wonder if I should go back to that room. It was lonely and dark, but there was no risk of hurting people.”

Serizawa looks down when he feels Kageyama-kun’s eyes on him, but he looks away the moment eye contact is made. Still, Serizawa considers it progress, and he slides forward just a bit.

“Bad days happen, Kageyama-kun, I can’t lie to you about that. But I can tell you that good days happen too, and they’re not worth missing being locked up in your room. There is so much that you can do, that you’re allowed to do.”

“But it’s not safe,” Kageyama-kun breaks in, muffled by their arms as his head is tucked into them. “It’s not safe for other people when I’m outside. What if something happens again? People could get hurt again .”

“You can’t sacrifice your life on that fear.”

“I have to.” There’s so much determination in Kageyama-kun’s soft voice and it makes Serizawa hurt. “No one seems to realize how dangerous I am, even after all that, but I do. I thought I could change, that I could be normal and be around others, but I realized that I was fooling myself. I can’t change, and because of that, the world is safer if I’m in here.”

Serizawa took a deep breath. He knew he needed to chose his next words carefully; they could make or break Kageyama-kun. He slides forward a bit more.

“When you approached me in that office building, you said so much to me. A lot of it was hard to hear at the time, some of it painful, but I needed to hear it. So I’m going to try and repay the favor.”

He slides forward again.

“Change is difficult. It almost never comes easy and you have to work at it every day. Sometimes it makes you do things that are uncomfortable or that you’re afraid of. Some days you don’t make much progress. Some days you even go backwards. But the days you go forward, where you can feel yourself making progress, you can see yourself improving? Those are the best days. Those are the days that help you get out of bed and out the door, help push you through the bad ones. And they’re possible. And you showed me that, Kageyama-kun.” Another slide forward.

“When you ricocheted that energy blast back to me in that stairwell, I felt your emotions. And I could feel your capacity for change. I could feel your progress in making your body stronger, in making friends at school, in controlling your powers. And that part of you isn’t gone, Kageyama-kun. It’s still within you, you’ve just lost sight of it.” Just a little bit more…

“But you know, Kageyama-kun, that wasn’t the most important thing you said to me that day. It also wasn’t that Claw was using me, though that was very helpful.”

Serizawa slides forward and the motion catches Kageyama-kun’s attention, and he almost startles at how close Serizawa’s gotten to him.

“...What was it?” Kageyama asks, still not making eye contact.

“It was ‘Then I’ll be your friend’. For the first time in my life someone wanted to be my friend. You weren’t scared of me, and you didn’t just see me as something to be used. You saw another esper, a kindred spirit, and a potential friend. And because you were my friend, I saw how poorly Claw was treating me and came to the realization that I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I got to meet Reigen, who gave me a job and works with me on my powers. I got the courage to go to high school and start to truly become a member of society.

“You helped me out of my darkest point. Let me help you out of yours.”

Kageyama-kun is looking up at him now, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. The motion pushes his bangs in a new position and Serizawa can see a piece of gauze taped to his forehead. It looks old, stained yellow and wrinkled, the corners of the medical tape starting to peal.

“And let me start with your head there,” Serizawa says as he stands up. “And I’m gonna need some light to do it.” He opens the tightly drawn blinds of Kageyama-kun’s window, letting the late afternoon sun into the room. Kageyama-kun blinks at the sudden light while Serizawa spots a first aid kit by the door. He walks over to pick it up, and notices a light layer of dust on the top. Kageyama-kun’s parents must have left it for him, but he hasn’t touched it. He opens the kit and pulls out a non-stick gauze pad, the roll of medical tape, a tube of antibiotic cream, and a pair of gloves.

He slips the gloves on as he walks back over to Kageyama, who has started to push himself away from the corner. Serizawa kneels and gently pulls the old gauze off. It’s a large gash, Serizawa can see the stitches threaded into the skin, but there’s no sign of infection. He pushes a little bit of the cream onto a finger and, as gently as he can, swabs it on the cut. “Does that hurt?” he asks when Kageyama winces a bit.

“No, just...tingly,” He says as Serizawa rips the covering off the gauze pad and pad and places it over the cut, then tapes it into place.

“Better?” Serizawa asks, and Kageyama nods.

They sit in silence for a bit, as Serizawa can tell that Kageyama is trying to think of something to say. He gives him the space to pull the words together.

“But what if something happens again? I know I didn’t mean to do what I did, but I could always get hurt again and… I can’t go through that a second time. Not again.” Serizawa can see the haunted look in his eyes grow as he speaks. He knows that touch may still be too much right now, so he settles for putting his hands in his lap.

“I hear you; that is a valid fear, especially considering your circumstances. But you also can’t let ‘what if’s’ run your life. I let that happen, and lost 15 years because of it. I could’ve done so much in those years, but I didn’t. I want you to experience the things I didn’t allow myself too.

“And, if you think it would help, we can train our powers together. I think it would be good for the both of us to have another esper to help out with things like this. And it’s a safety net; someone is there if things go wrong.”

Kageyama-kun looks up at him, and, for the first time since entering this room, Serizawa sees a flicker of hope. “I’d...I’d like that.”

“Good, I would too.” “But, I still don’t think I’m ready to go back to work or school yet,” Kageyama-kun admits, looking down. “It’s just too much right now.”

“That’s okay, you should take things at a pace you’re comfortable with. If those things are too big, we can start smaller.”

A knock on the door interrupts them. “Serizawa-san, would you like to stay for dinner?” Kageyama-kun’s mother calls through the door. “They should be enough for five.”

“Uh, one moment please,” He says back, checking the time on his phone. Kageyama’s house is on his way to school, and he should have enough time before classes start. And, if he’s a little late, it’s not a big deal. “I’d love to, thank you for offering.”

“You’re welcome. Come downstairs in about five minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Serizawa replies as footsteps receded down the hall. He turns back to Kageyama-kun.

“You know, one small thing we could start with is going downstairs for dinner and eating with everyone,” Serizawa says. Kageyama-kun’s brows knit together, thinking.

“Can you come back tomorrow morning? Help me make sure I keep working at changing?” Kageyama-kun asks, and the answer is easy.

“Of course, it’s not a problem,” Serizawa smiles. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should be a polite houseguest and help your mother set up dinner.” He stands up and, to his mild surprise, Kageyama-kun follows him, even going ahead of him to get the door. Serizawa thanks him as he walks out, but stops short when Kageyama-kun calls out down the hall.

“Uh, mom? Don’t bring my plate up here, please, I’m going to come down once I get dressed and brush my hair.”

Serizawa looks back to Kageyama-kun, covered in a golden light as the sun sets behind him. And at that moment, he’s certain the kid could get through anything.

[cognitivedissonance4]

“When I’m done I get real down, when I’m high I don’t come down.” I’m either awake and overly excited and talk too much, too fast, feel too much. Or I’m tired, happy for one moment in time then really down and long to feel overly excited again yet guilty and regret what I said or for saying too much. There’s nights where I can’t wait to just lay in bed and think and go to sleep and wake up before 10am. Then there is times I am awake until 2,3,4 am. I tell myself I should just go to sleep but I can’t. I have to stay awake and distract myself or keep thinking about things until I’m so exhausted I fall asleep when I hit my pillow. It’s like a tunnel I keep going farther down even when I hold onto the sides. No one can help so I tell no one. I’ve never needed anyone. When I tell him he doesn’t know what to do and I feel so much worse. I can’t tell someone that I stay awake caffeinated until I can barely keep my eyes open watching mindless netflix and music videos. I can’t say I miss drinking redbull everyday and basically feel like a zombie that can do things quickly. How do I say when people ask how I am I reply with tired because well physically I am tired but it’s better than saying sad or even good. I’m just tired. I can’t ask people for help I just can’t. It’s the worst feeling for me, I can’t explain how I feel and nothing can help anyway and so many are more fucked up and so many people have to deal with that already. I sometimes miss me from a few years ago, but everytime I think back to who I was I still had problems and similar feelings just different situations. How can I miss the girl who always had to wear makeup when she left the house because of how insecure she was and when she wore no makeup at home she felt ugly, how when the acne came it got so bad she cried in her moms car before school. The girl who was so naturally thin yet wanted to be skinnier for whatever fucked up reason, Even though no one she would like would be attracted to her and not just because she was skinny. But because she wasn’t attractive, she had resting bitch face too so she was even less approachable. The girl who had no friends at lunchtime so she walked around and sit beside the garbage can waiting for class to start.The girl who stole a razor blade from her crafts class so she didn’t have to break glass to harm herself. The girl who could see the good or likeableness in everyone but herself.  The girl who learned not to talk about her internal problems with people because it was easier not to. The girl who really liked another girl who tried to commit suicide after breaking up with her. The girl who craved to “fit in” and be liked yet dressed a little different and liked thing other people didn’t. Shaved the side of her side even though most people thought she was weird, but her old best friend complimented her on her hair and she thought he would be her friend throughout highschool but she became friends with this guy who everyone deemed annoying and immature but it’s not his fault he has adhd and couldn’t live his childhood properly. Then she lost everyone else that kinda talked to her. The girl who fell for people who were depressed and suicidal and mentally fucked up. Her dipiction of love was either movie john green kinda love or we’re both fucked up but we’re still here for each other even though we can’t stop our self destructive behaviors. The girl whos new bf left for a week and she relapsed and he called her a dirty addict and got mad to try and make her stop. She stopped for herself but still felt ashamed whenever he saw the scars. The girl who gets anxiety whenever her bf or friend casually says they want to harm/off themselves. The girl who is afraid of people falling out of love with her but has to keep reassuring herself she really wants to stay with who shes with and if shes just doing it because of all the history. Is she seeing the potential of this relationship or staying because how would she end this how would everyone cope? But he can’t help her and he never knows what to say or how to say it. She knows what to say to other people but not him, she doesn’t know how to help him when he’s sad so they resort to talking less. The girl who was so fixated on growing up she didn’t live her life enough, but with no friends it’s hard to. But is the girl now any better? I just need to go to sleep.