#something wrong with her i desperately need it to go get therapy or something

[moogghost]

accept your future path wasn't yours to be chosen.

[lizzobetumblin]

Melissa hated her feelings. 

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings. 

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name, 

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list: 

1.) Don’t cry.   

 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking, 

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

 ‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion. 

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry. 

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow. 

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong. 

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that. 

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again. 

She carried that. 

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her. 

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’ 

She cried. 

She escalated. 

She took it personal. 

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music. 

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose. 

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too. 

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow. 

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks. 

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified. 

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power. 

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her. 

And she finally loved them back. 

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Is my punishment almost over?" Emily asked her boyfriend, Joey.

"No, not yet, baby girl..... I think you need to learn your lesson a bit longer."

"But....! The tournament is in a month. How can I perform like this?"

"Not my problem.... You should've thought of that before being such a naughty girl, Emily."

Joey wasn't wrong, in a way..... Almost a year ago he started dating an Olympic silver medalist gymnast, who was known the whole world over for her skill and dexterity. Shortly after dating her, though, he was sent something damning by a random person online.... At the time, Emily was basically flat chested, yet had a cute butt and tended to give the cameras sensual, flirty looks, often blowing kisses and winking at the camera, sometimes bending over unnecessarily to give the people filming her something to zoom in on.....

Turns out when pervy guys reblogged these clips and admitted to masturbating to her performance, she would reply, happily encouraging them. On her official account, zero shame, her with the silver medal as her avatar. She'd tell these random men to 'milk their cocks good' and 'cum real hard for her tight little ass', like some porn star. Joey saw this and was very amused..... So, he decided Emily had to be punished--badly. He told her she had to obey him and take breast growth pills, to give the next national gymnastics tournament before the Summer Olympics a good show.

"I'm sorry, Joey..... you know I can't help myself. I love to flirt."

"Which just tells me how badly you need to be punished. Look at this one I found! Some random married guy posted that he wants to throw you in his van, hogtie you, and put 'a pile of kids in your pretty gut'. Did you block him....?"

She shook her head. "No....."

"Oh wait, you went on an extended RP session in the public comments about how he was going to abduct and rape you. Damn, you're one messed up girl."

"Messed up as a guy that makes his girlfriend grow a pair of boobs that weigh 50lbs each? Knowing she's a gymnast!"

"Nah, not as bad. But hey, think of all the hot interactions you'll have on Instagram now! You're gonna step out, not in your leotard, but a bikini, these gigantic udders spilling out. And you'll do your routine.... as well as you can. Think of how many guys are gonna jerk off to that."

"Fuck.... that's so hot." Emily bit her lip, fondling her pussy and breasts. "They're so heavy.... I look like an idiot with these things....."

"Well, you are an idiot. A horny, drooling idiot, too obsessed with fondling that swollen pussy of yours to care whether or not millions see you flirt with married men and RP getting knocked up by them."

"I'm.... it's just a little addiction, is all. I could try therapy...."

"Nah, I think you deserve to be nothing but walking jerk-off fodder. You're done being a real athlete. They'll just have you on because your oversized, goofy looking udders will make so many desperate, horny men tune in. And a whole bunch of normies to make fun of you."

"Fuck you.... you find these tits sexy..... You just came so hard inside me!"

"Well, I find them less sexy than I do the fact that I made you grow them. Understand?"

She nodded obediently. "Yes, master."

"Good girl, now, isn't it going to be fun watching you balance those giant tits and a belly full of my kids at the next tournament? Damn, by the time the Olympics roll around, those tits will weigh 100lbs each. Won't that be so fitting? I can't wait to see you even try to perform..... Then your career will be sitting on OnlyFans, immobilized by those cartoonish udders, masturbating all day like the drooling, horny idiot you really are deep down. You'll be flirting with your desperate, gross fans, all of your regular fans won't want anything to do with you as you sit there ten hours a days fondling yourself, surrounded by a pair of tits too big for you to carry on your own....."

"Fuck you...."

"Don't act like you don't agree. You aren't an athlete Emily, you aspire to be nothing but walking jerk-off material. So you might as well go for gold, isn't that right?"

Emily bit her lip, rubbing her heavy breasts. "Then I better go for 200lbs each...... be totally trapped by these things...."

"Now that's the perverted little idiot I love."

"I aim to please, Master. ❤️"

[yannaryartside]

CARMY NEVER WANTED TO CREATE A MENU WITH SYD.

AND WHY THAT IS THE CORE THEME OF THE SHOW

PART 1: THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIEVES

So, one of the bases of creating an efficient character arc is to give the character something they want, and something they need. In the pursuit of getting what they want, the theme of the show and obstacles will show them what they need. Most of the time, they need healing from an emotional wound that prevents them from growing into the ultimate version of themselves, capable of winning the challenges of the story. I will try to explore Carmy's wound and, more importantly, the lie that created that wound.

In 'The negative trait thesaurus" by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi, it reads:

"Wounds are often kept secret from others because embedded within them is the lie-an untruth that the character believes about himself."

When I started therapy (disclaimer: this is not professional advice; I am just talking from how I interpreted all of this), I was introduced to the concept of "limiting beliefs:" lies we have told ourselves about our own nature or the nature of the world. The most difficult beliefs to leave behind are those established in our early childhoods, and we told ourselves those lies to make sense of the world, to make peace with realities we were not equipped to comprehend yet. 

Some examples of lies people belive:

"I am too stupid to learn anything; my teacher said so" "It was my fault that I was molested." "I am a bad person for wanting a different life."

When people believe these lies, they will act accordingly, maybe attracting situations that hurt them but keeping the lie active in their lives. They may self-sabotage or create bonds with people who also believe the lie, even if it doesn't seem this way. 

In some cases, people may develop complete personalities or behaviors to prove the lie wrong, but deep down, they still believe in the lie. Carmy falls into this last category. This is where we find the most contradictory parts of his personality, how he can act shy and insecure in some instances and appear confident and even aggressive in others. 

Long post underneath.

THE RESENT OF A MOTHER:

We can only assume here because I think Storer is gonna let us know more about this soon, but I think I got an idea of this wound when I saw the only moment Carmy was alone with Donna on "Fishes."

I have a lot of things to say about Donna herself, but let's begin with the obvious: the conversation in this scene had little to do with the dinner itself. This was a woman stating that she felt alone and not valued, probably due to being abandoned by her husband and having to overwork herself at the beef to support her 3 kids, all while being a single mother. We don't know if this feeling of abandonment is something she has carried since childhood, but in the state of current womanhood, it wouldn't be uncommon. The work of women (especially mothers), particularly the emotional labor, is rather invisible and not valued at all.

But again, this is something she has used as fuel to resent her kids, who, at the end of the day, didn't ask to be here. Her anger has to go somewhere since she cannot direct it toward the people that ctually caused it. To get to the point:

THE BEARZATTO SYBLING DYNAMIC

Carmy said, "You are not alone; I am here with you." (This kind of comes back to telling Syd she was not alone at the end of the season.) This scene is about a kid trying to communicate to his mother that he loves her and trying desperately to connect with her, to get her to express her affection for him as well.

It tells me that growing up, he felt like he had to "earn" her affection. Donna likes to make her kids feel guilty about her unhappiness, so the kids feel that they are constantly walking on shells because they think their mother hates them, or at least that she resents them and that it is their responsibility to fix it.

In the scene, Carmy asked,

"What is so hard, Mom?"

I think what he was actually asking is, "What is so hard about being with us, to love us? What did we do to you that made you resent us this way?" He is asking because he wants to know, to finally understand. Why do you drink, Mom? Why do you yell? Why do you say such hurtful things?

When she answers, "Nobody makes things beautiful for me," you can see in his face the disconnection. He knows he can't do anything about that.

Then, a crucial part in the scene occurs when Donna calls him "Michael, " which indicates that the only one of her children who could make her feel happy was Michael, or at least that is how the other two kids felt. You can see the hurt in Carmy's eyes in the scene because this answer dismisses his effort to connect to his mother in his own right. She asks him to just leave. He offers to wait to connect with her. Then, it comes to the most chilling moment on the scene, the "we have a problem" using his full name, with resentment in every word. She hugs him while crying, kisses him, and then slaps him.

This is rejection. There is a book called "The Five Wounds of the Soul": wich are Rejection, Abandonment, Humiliation, Betrayal, and Injustice. I think Carmy's wound is rejection, for never earning his mother's love, particularly comparing himself to Michael.

Michael took responsibility for the Beef, finally giving their mom a break. It was Michael's job to make sure everyone was having a good time, to compensate for the discomfort that caused being in Donna's presence, to make sure all of them stayed as a family, which was Donna's intention, so Michael thought he had to make that happen for her. Therefore, Michael is the only one of her kids who succeeds and makes her happy. We know Donna rejects Natalie and Carmy. About Natalie, we can write another whole essay.

THE LIE THAT CARMY BELIVES

According to this scene, I think Carmy thinks that her mother didn't love him because he is not Michael; in fact, he is the most "not like Michael" someone could be. He was shy and stuttered and didn't have friends or girlfriends, comparable to Michael's ability to control every room he was in. Carmy was sensible and no macho alfa as Michael presented himself to be. Carmy left home and the family business, and both Michael and Donna expressed that they feel like he thinks he is better than them. Michael admitted later to admiring Carmy's work in Copenhagen, but Donna never did. carmy grew up having to live with the crumbles of Donna's attention that Michael left behind, wondering every day what was so wrong with him that made her reject him, and wondering what he could do to change that.

The lie that Carmy belives, could be sumarize this way:

I need to earn people's love. I need to always go the extra mile, doing the most possible at all times to earn people's love.

This all goes back to his trauma with Michael. It goes back to his career as a chef and how he became the best. He didn't need to succeed on a larger scale in the culinary industry to earn Michael's respect and love; he needed to be the best in the world, so he did that. He judges his own social abilities, comparing them to Miachae's. He left that promising career only because of Michae's death. He got the girlfriend Michael wanted for him (not saying it was the only reason, but it was there).

PART 2: WHAT DOES ALL OF THIS HAD TO DO WITH SYDNEY?

Well, what does a person who feels they always need to do the most? They do the most. I want to bring you back to the moments Carmy had to develop menu ideas with Syd on s1 and s2.

When Syd suggested items for the menu in s1, he gave her an inconclusive, not enthusiastic "maybe."

When she had to actually cook the thing for him to approve, he tried to make her feel small about it. He felt the need to remind her that she was "impatient and green," according to her previous bosses. He commented about her possibly ruining the flow by using time to cook her recipe. Yikes all around, but the core here is that he was treating her like an enemy, like competition, while she was trying to save the restaurant with what they had on hand to use the most efficient solution.

Then, when Carmy tries the dish and feels stunned by it, he has to make an ambiguous excuse on the fly and just finishes every chance of them using the recipe by saying, "is not ready yet"

And what does he do next? He goes to show the crew a recipe that is extremely complicated for the level they are operating at currently—they said so themselves. I think the recipe is a variation of Donna's butter chicken recipe. To put a nail on that coffin of his intentions to earn her love and approval at the end of it all.

But why does he do all this? Because he needs to be the hero, subconsciously, he is still that small kid begging for acceptance and love; he must go the extra mile. He cannot accept Sydney's help and partnership, because that will take away from him earning what he wants on his own merit.

In S2, he seems unenthusiastic about starting the menu in the first place. Then Claire comes along, and he tries to make it work with Syd and the menu, but I think he subconsciously thanks the universe for not having to go to his core wound. That is what self-sabotage is. That is why he bailed on the food tour with Syd, using such a stupid excuse as helping somebody else move out and never mentioning it again. He never asked her what she liked or what ideas she thought of. For most of the creative process, Syd is alone, working on her own creative crisis. The menu ends up being like two recipes they made in collaboration and then all of his family's traditional recipes. It is two of Syd's recipes and the rest of Carmy's. Then, desserts Marcus did on his own. The collaboration was superficial at best.

All of this creates the core theme of the show. The Bear was once a chaotic place (like their childhood home) that needs to evolve into an efficient, peaceful place built on love, support, and mutual collaboration like a functional family should be. Sydney is the member of this found family that forces Carmy to confront his core wound and learn he can actually be good enough while still accepting help. Therapy probably will play an important part in this theme, alongside with Carmy learning there was nothing wrong with him in the first place, that earning your parent's love is not something a kid can do.

Thankyou for reading. Gif and images are not mine.

[itsabouttimex2]

Can I ask how the lmk characters would react if your childhood cat ran away and I mean that you’re very very very close to the cat.

Because my childhood cat Leo just ran away and I’m having a massive meltdown because of it and crying so much.I already watch one cat die I can’t lose another and your work’s always bring a smile to my face and I really need something to get my mind on something else right now.

(I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Trouble with pets is never fun. I hope things get better.)

Missing Pet Reactions

Sun Wukong, Mei, Sandy

Sun Wukong has never really had a “pet”- but he does have a whole mountain of monkeys ranging in age and disposition. I imagine he understands quite well the panic of one going missing for more than a few minutes.

So he sympathizes. He understands.

And the moment Wukong sees the tears beading in your eyes as you desperately recall the circumstances of your pet going missing? He’s on the move.

Even if the Great Sage didn’t have his Golden Vision ready to track down your pet, he still has the power to create clones en masse. A storm of ginger simians down every street and road, knocking on windows and doors with their bold hands.

The real deal will stay beside you while his clones “shred” the city with haste, taking a moment to calm and shush you with the biggest grin he can manage.

While they search, Wukong encourages you to snack on whatever you'd like in his pantry (though it's nothing but junk food...) to keep your stomach full and settled. He’ll bust out a peach soda for you and settle in with a blanket, and wait out the literal handful of minutes that it takes to his clones to return your pet to you.

Mei has her own way of “tearing” the city apart, mainly through her use of her expansive follower base. All it takes is one text and there’s a few thousand eyes on the streets, looking for your little fur baby.

She’s also personally out on her motorcycle, zipping up and down backroads and busy streets to find your furry friend and bring it home.

The dragon girl is split pretty fifty-fifty between taking you along and leaving you behind, but will lean either direction depending on how hysteric you are. She might just throw you onto the couch and slam the door behind her as she races out, throwing you a credit card and instructing you to order something for dinner.

It’s not that she wants to leave you all alone in this state of distress, but Mei prioritizes your safety above your comfort, as it happens. And besides… if you’re fear-snacking on pizza and soda by the time she gets back (with pet in tow), then the two of you basically get to celebrate together immediately. Win-win!

…she’s absolutely recording the tearful reunion, though.

Oh, no one is going to be more on your side through this than Sandy. His dozen therapy cats? His little Mo? The big blue softy so sympathetic to your plight that he has to fight back a few tears of his own.

Now, I have no doubt that one or two of Sandy’s cats have gotten out here and there, only to be quickly returned by the call of dinner or his frantic pleas- the ex-soldier knows all about luring little wayward pets back home.

Freshly popped tuna cans and cats treats are scattered about the yard and deck, and then Sandy puts out two chairs and a platter of snacks to go with the tea he brews for you.

For this gentle giant, it’s only a matter of waiting- he knows to stay calm, to calm you down, to just… wait.

Out of all three, his plan works the best, just because there’s not a frantic chase or a surplus of noise to make things worse, or to frighten the cat further. In less than an hour, you’ve got your buddy back.

So basically, Sandy has the knowledge + temperament to get your cat back without harm or a pointedly long lapse of time spent futilely looking in the wrong place. 10/10!

[girlgenius1111]

i can't hide from you like i hide from myself

part 3 of cool about it. reader almost relapses. almost.

tw for mentions of self harm.

Recovery was just as hard as you remembered it; the only difference was that you didn't know how the hell you did it without Alexia the first time. She had kept her promise; she was right there with you, every second of everyday, someone always anticipating what you needed.

The hardest part was getting rid of the guilt you felt; so far, you hadn't struggled with needing to do it again. You were just overcome with shame. You were back in therapy, though, and the necessary adjustments were being made to your medication. Things were looking up. Recovery, though, is evidently not just an upwards slope.

-----

You'd insisted that Alexia go out with her sister and her sister's friends. She'd been by you side constantly, and you knew she needed to get out. You weren't really feeling up to that yet, though, so you assured her you would be fine, and all but shoved her out the door.

In your defense, you hadn't been feeling bad when she'd left. Alright, maybe a little down, but nothing you couldn't handle. You'd had a calm night in, watching TV and catching up on emails. You were doing alright, admittedly excited for Alexia to return home.

The catalyst was a simple nick in the shower; you were shaving your legs, mind on the next day's practice, when you felt a sharp sting. You dragged the blade to the side slightly on accident, and there was a small cut on your shin. You dropped the razor in shock, watching in horror as blood dripped from the wound.

You hadn't done it on purpose. You hadn't. Suddenly, though, all you could think about was doing it on purpose. Somewhere in your panicked brain, you remembered that this was an addiction, like any other addiction. Even if you didn't want to do it for the normal reasons, your body still craved the release.

It would have been so easy to just give in. Alexia wasn't due home for a few hours, and you were already bleeding. You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, picking up the razor and chucking it out of the shower, into the sink. You washed the remaining conditioner from your hair, hands shaking, before shutting the water off and climbing out.

You didn't even want to look at the cut on your shin. It was a combination of reminding you of what you'd done just a few weeks ago, and what you desperately wanted to do right now.

You left the bathroom, getting dressed quickly, before forcing yourself to apply some pressure on the cut. It wasn't deep, or serious by any means, but shins had the tendency to bleed a lot, and if you didn't want to drip blood all over your apartment, you had to do something.

Your hands continued to shake as you held a washcloth over the cut, and you felt your control slipping. You were panicking, and you knew what you should do. What you needed to do. Without letting yourself think too hard, you grabbed your phone off the bed, sitting down on the ground. You clicked Alexia's contact, reminding yourself that she wanted you to call her, she'd told you to call her.

"Hola mi amor! Everything alright?" She asked, clearly trying to mask her alarm at the call from you.

"Yeah, um. I mean, no. I'm sorry. Can you come home? I need you." You said weakly. Alexia's tone shifted instantly, and you heard her tell someone, presumably her sister, that she had to go, before she was speaking to you again.

"Of course, mi amor, I'm leaving right now, I'll be there in 5 minutes. Stay on the phone with me, vale?" She said, and you let out a hum of agreement. She didn't ask you to explain, or ask you what was wrong. She knew that you needed her, and that was enough for her to speed home. The sound of her breathing over the line was enough to keep you grounded, until you heard her shut the car door behind her, rushing up into the house. "I'm coming up, okay? Where are you?"

"Bedroom." You mumbled. You were really starting to panic now, head spinning with anxiety. You heard the front door open and close, and Alexia's fast footsteps as she rushed towards the bedroom. She threw the door open, her phone forgotten in her hand, as her eyes frantically searched for you. The minute her eyes met yours, and flew down to your leg, you realized what it looked like.

"Oh, mi amor," she sighed, and you couldn't help but feel like she was disappointed in you.

"It wasn't on purpose, Ale, I promise, it was an accident," you told her frantically. She moved to sit down next to you, moving your hand away from your shin as she inspected the cut.

"Okay." she said, believing you. Still, you insisted, not really hearing her response.

"I was shaving and the razor slid, I promise, I didn't do it on purpose, Alexia," you cried, and it sounded like you were begging her to believe you. With her free hand, she cupped your cheek, shushing you.

"I believe you, mi amor, it's alright. I'm here, and everything is fine," she told you soothingly. You were still panicking, though, still completely distraught, eyes glued to your shin.

"Look at me, bonita, eyes up here," she said, drawing your attention away from the cut. She gripped your chin gently, holding your gaze there. "Deep breath in, with me," she told you, exaggerating a deep breath. You stumbled over another inhale, but Alexia's attention stayed on you, reminding you when to breathe in and out.

With her help, you managed to calm down. After a minute of following Alexia's breathing, you opened your mouth. You had to be honest, you had to tell her the truth, before you lost your nerve.

"It wasn't on purpose," you said again, and Alexia looked at you sympathetically, nodding her head. "I almost did though, after. I almost did it again," you told her brokenly.

"Okay, mi niña. You didn't though; you called me instead," she reminded you. "You asked for help when it would have been easy not to, and I am so proud of you, bebe," Alexia insisted. You looked at her uncertainly.

"I shouldn't have freaked out, though, I don't know why I did," you reasoned, not really prepared to except her praise. Alexia shook her head, though.

"No, amor, that's not true. What happened before was traumatic, and this was something so similar to that experience; it makes sense that this was really upsetting to you." She sounded so sure, so convinced, you couldn't help but internalize her words, just a little.

"I'm sorry you had to leave dinner," you told her quietly, still feeling incredibly guilty.

"Don't be sorry. I want you to call me when you need me, no matter what I'm doing," she replied. Her words made you feel so loved, but at the same time, you felt so unworthy of that love.

"You're too good to me. I don't deserve you," you mumbled attempting to slightly farther from her. She reached out to stop your movements, lips pursed in dissatisfaction. She hated that you didn't see yourself the way she did; that you didn't recognize that every hard moment was worth it, because the good you brought her was unmeasurable.

"You deserve good, y/n. You deserve everything good. Even when it's hard to accept, even when you don't feel like it. You always deserve to be treated with love, and care, and patience," she paired her words with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you to lean against her chest, until you were enveloped by her soft sweater, by her comforting scent. "I'd sit with you here for as long as you need me. I love you, and I'm always going to love you, even when you don't feel like you deserve it," she promised.

You tried to burn her words into your memory. You didn't want to ever forget them. Not the way she said them, her chest vibrating under your ear, or the way she spoke slowly, wanting you to hear every sentence.

Leaning up, you softly kissed Alexia's pillowy lips. It was slow, and somehow meaningful. It communicated how thankful you were for her words, for how patient she was with you. She kissed you back, cradling your face like it was breakable, lips moving against yours perfectly. You broke apart after a minute, and you looked up at her, at the adorable way she her eyes crinkled slightly when they met yours.

'Thank you for being here," you said.

"Always," she replied, without hesitation. She'd promised it before, but something about this time was different. You believed her.

-----

soft alexia <3

[littlerosetrove]

I think the show is going to start doing better by Eddie in upcoming episodes, and I desperately hope I’m right. Some critical thoughts incoming because I just want better for Eddie.

My focus of this post is about Eddie being in a romantic relationship, although there are absolutely so many potential storylines to delve deeper into with Eddie. Trust me, I know. 

I do get why Eddie was with Ana, I do. That man was still repressing so much trauma for starters, and (even now) Eddie was also feeling pressured by society and his upbringing to “give Chris another mom.” It was something Eddie felt like he should do. And hooboy does Eddie still need to work on issues surrounding things he often feels like he “should” do. We all know that Eddie stuck it out with Ana far longer than he should have (Ana is guilty of this two, cause it takes two to tango). An apt description for Eddie is that he’s “the architect of his own misery.” ← Idk who originally said this phrase, but I got it from @yramesoruniverse, and it’s true. 

Speaking of misery. No matter how the show tried to paint it as something cute and good, there is nothing actually good about Marisol and Eddie. Let me explain and bear with me. 

Let’s be real. The show during 6B treated Eddie’s loneliness and his subsequent desire to date as a joke. Maybe not 100%, but even 1% is too much. That montage of Eddie going hiking, playing golf (??), and hanging out at a fucking country club (?????) to find a date? That was played for laughs. 

Now at one point, Eddie had a genuinely great heart to heart with Bobby. I can’t recall their conversation exactly right now since I haven’t rewatched season 6 since it aired, but I know Bobby basically said Eddie should find someone who will sit with him during the hard times (please correct me if I’m wrong).  

But then the show tried to frame Eddie running into Marisol - someone he met on a call - as this spark, this magical moment. Let’s remember that in season 6 Eddie was wistfully reminiscing on his and Shannon’s beginning and called it magic. And so again, the show tried to say, “Hey look! Eddie bumping into Marisol (no last name) is meant to be. This is magic!” Then we jump into season 7 where we’ve gotten no development on Marisol still, and zero development on their relationship, unless you want to call Eddie admitting to using Marisol as a babysitter as some development. Hell, we don’t even know how Chris feels about her. With all of this in mind, to me this just looks like Eddie had grabbed onto the first person he could so he wouldn’t be lonely. If the show wanted us to care an iota about Marisol or their relationship in any capacity, they would have. But they haven’t. And that’s just heartbreaking for Eddie. All they’ve given Eddie is a surface level, nothing of a relationship. 

It’s clear Eddie and Marisol are going to break up in 7x7 at the latest, and… for what? 7x5 will definitely have to do some backfilling on where and why their relationship isn’t going to work (it doesn't appear Marisol will be in 7x6). Even still, what was the point of it all?? Before anyone says it, yes Eddie is allowed to date, even casually, but GD there’s been nothing to grasp onto, you know? No reason to feel even remotely excited or happy that Eddie’s dating, specifically not with Marisol (and the actress is a shitty person) who ffs doesn’t even have a last name. Just having two attractive people in the same room does nothing for me, sorry. 

To try and conclude this, this *gestures at everything I just said* is why I want better for Eddie and Ryan. I really really hope we’re going to get something of substance for Eddie as a character. Yes it’s been great to see Eddie so much happier in season 7 (thanks to therapy, though he needs more, and Buck and Tommy lbr), but, and to stick with the relationship aspect of it all, I want better for Eddie. Idk if Eddie will have or needs someone like Tommy for himself, or if Eddie is just going to work on himself before the next relationship he’s in will be Buck. We’ll have to wait and see, but yeah…. Eddie just. deserves better. 

(this post was inspired by a recent conversation I had with @elvensorceress)

[mhahaikyuus]

Wait for me

Tags:; angst to fluff, exes to lovers, mentions of therapy, drinking, trying to move on, Bakugo groveling, crying, happy ending

“I don’t want to talk to you”

“But I want to talk to you.” He insisted as you kept walking trying evade him. Katsuki’s hulking figure trying to blocking your path.

“What do you want? Huh?” He said speed walking a little in disbelief at how fast your legs could move from him.

“To leave me alone.”

He grabbed your hand and yanked it stopping you both from the street. Katsuki pulling you to the side from the busy pathway both of you were inhabiting into a alleyway.

“I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“No.” You groaned tired of the same routine.

“Shoes?”

“I already have a pair.” You said with dead eyes and a blank face.

“You want a bag?”

“Nope.”

He was getting desperate.

“Makeup? Clothes? Books? I’ll buy you a car! Come on im trying here.” He said exasperated

You shrugged.

You were shut down from him. Looking at him as if he was a stranger not your ex boyfriend you hadn’t spoken to in almost two weeks.

“I don’t want your money. If i did I would have kept talking to you.”

He sucked his teeth in annoyance.

“You know what I want.” You continued looking at him unimpressed. This show of money irritating you.

“You know I can’t-“ He struggled to put it into words. Fortunately you knew him like the back of your hand

“Okay. I’m not forcing you and i’m not going to demand you. It’s your choice. I can’t be in a relationship with you anymore.” You said with a sigh letting down your wall even if it was an inch.

Katsuki felt his stomach turn at your words. He hadn’t had many relationships in his life and he was known for his abrasive personality. Something all his previous partners had to endure. Katsuki knew it was wrong but always made it clear, if you couldn’t deal with it the door was always open.

It wasn’t til seeing you walk out made him reconsider everything.

All you had asked for was an apology. To admit he was wrong and say sorry.

But it would never come, and after a while it took a toll on you.

Gifts and a hug were nothing to you, and Katsuki trying to skirt around those two words began to hurt your heart.

You brought it up after every fight asking him to address your needs.

When it was clear he wouldn’t, you accepted it. Never one to beg you took up Bakugo on his words, leaving him.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for, “If that’s all, can I go now or do you have something else to say.” Adjusting your bag and shuffling your feet.

Katsuki felt ashamed of himself but the words still wouldn’t leave his mouth. Letting you know his pride was worth more than your relationship.

But what else could you expect, dating the number two pro.

The correct choice was made, no matter how heartbroken you were. Seeing him now confirmed that. He wouldn’t change.

Katsuki mumbled, “No I dont.”

You nodded, “Alright, it was good seeing you. If you need something you can call me, okay?” Offering him a small smile and going on your way, blinking back tears.

You wanted so badly to be angry at him but you couldn’t. It wasn’t meant to be. If he wanted to change he would for the right person and you weren’t her. It wasn’t his fault. All you could hope was he would be happy and he learned to better himself because he wanted to, that or find the right person. But you didn’t want to think about it, the very thought making you want to collapse.

Katsuki watched you leave feeling the hole in his chest grow.

It had been two weeks since you had left him teary eyed. Your last words replaying in his mind.

“I want an apology for what you said.”

He dragged his hand down his face, “I know but you know how I feel why do I have to say it.”

“You can’t say two words?” You asked sadly truly realizing his ego was his number one priority.

He almost started grinding his teeth almost as if he was in agony at the thought of putting you first.

“Nevermind…I know I shouldn’t have asked.” Your previous words felt to close to begging for your liking.

He let out a sigh of relief, thinking you would let it go. Like you had done one hundred times before.

Why were you with someone who would never put you first?

After a moment of silence you spoke up “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

You had also realized you had let this behavior go on 100 times before, and it wasn’t right. You didnt deserve that.

“What?” He said in a shaky voice starting at your dispirited form.

“I don’t want to be with you anymore. I won’t ask you to change when you don’t want to. It’s better to end things now than end up miserable.” You said slowly

He made you feel as though a future with him would end in misery.

It was all he could think about for the last two weeks. After the first day seeing you not respond to his texts he left you alone. His pride too big.

Bakugo felt he was stuck in a constant cycle of wanting to swallow his pride and chase after you. The fact you wouldn’t beg or plead with him to change caused him to spiral. But he couldn’t. After decades of this behavior it was impossible for him to try and make another choice.

Instead soft moments you two shared plaguing his mind.

Cuddling after a long day while Katsuki groaned into your chest as he told you about his day.

“Commission told me I needed to change my attitude if I was going to work on the mission and I told them to fuck off.” He grumbled as you raked your hands through his hair.

You laughed at his words.

“Good because I wouldnt want you to change for anyone. I like you exactly as you are.”

He glared at you his chin resting on your chest.

“Like?”

You huffed at his insecurity but never complained, always happy to reassure.

“Love, i love you exactly as you are.” You corrected yourself.

He had never met anyone who had so wholeheartedly accepted him. Even in your worst moments you never wavered on your love for him.

Everyone else, his friends, his family, his own mother. Every single one told him his flaws in detail and told him he had to change. It angered him to no end but he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

All you had asked was to try and put you first and he foolishly took that for granted. Now Katsuki only had fleeting moments with you. He had carefully orchestrated after spending so many nights alone. Katsuki had noted your most common areas of walking in the city when you were together and asked a favor to switch patrol times.

Seeing your familiar jacket and hair he took his chance to see you again.

Katsuki didn’t know what he would say when he saw you again. He just needed to. But it only to affirmed your reasoning for leaving him.

Seeing you walk away for the second time was a widening hole to his chest. Worse than any pain a villian had inflicted upon him.

The one person who never asked him to change, walked away.

He loved you more than life. Why couldn’t he say the words.

The days got longer and the nights became sadder. The remnants of your presence left in his apartment were the only thing keeping him going.

Your toothbrush next to his on the sink, lotion on the nightstand, pillow smelling of perfume on his bed.

Not seeing you curled up in bed, the tv blaring whatever show you liked, the smell of shared dinner wafting in the apartment. Katsuki realized what he had done.

He was ashamed.

Your toothbrush next to his untouched, your pillow smell less of you everyday, and making dinner for one made him silently weep before he left in the morning and every night before he went to bed.

Bakugo had always assumed he was going to end up alone since he was a child. His awareness never seeing a reason to be sad. But now he had the experience of love it was devastating. It was all his fault.

Two weeks of no contact besides Katsuki’s street ambush turned into 2 months.

You were heartbroken but tried to move on.

The feelings of guilt and shame didn’t carry onto your side.

Each date you powered through. If you weren’t the right person for Bakugo, then he couldn’t be the one for you.

These dates could let you find someone who, on the off chance could love you back as much as you did them.

It didn’t change the result, each date ending with a kiss and you coming home alone to cry.

Until you found a sweet guy named Yuki. He was nothing like your ex. Very kind, quiet, and he liked you a lot.

Sorry was at the tip of his tongue in his daily speaking, slightly shocking but it was a nice change.

On a coffee date he had bumped your chair a little too rough and almost went into a panic.

“I’m so sorry are you alright?” He asked with widened brown eyes of fear as you readjusted yourself.

It was all you could do to not laugh.

“I’m fine, i swear. Stop apologizing.” You said gently touching his hand to calm him.

He was shy, rubbing the back of his neck, “Okay.”

Todoroki was picking up bakery sweets for his girlfriend, a stop on his way to home from patrol. Seeing you and Yuki on your fourth date enjoying each others company in the corner of a small cafe.

He interrupted your date to say hi.

“Hi y/n how are you.” Todoroki asked standing at your table. It had been a while since he had seen you.

It was a shock to see one of Bakugo’s friends after removing yourself from his life.

“Hi Shoto! How are you?” You asked

Making small talk before Shoto said his goodbyes and left not wanting to interrupt.

“Who was that?” Yuki asked seeing slight distress in your eyes.

“Oh…um an old friend.” You replied with a small smile changing the topic.

The only thing on your mind, wondering if Shoto would tell him.

Bakugo wanted to die.

Shoto on patrol mentioned offhandedly seeing you with a friend yesterday night at a cafe. Having no idea that the two of you were broken up.

In the two months of being alone he was trying everything to fix himself.

One weak night he had, he broke and came to his father in tears asking what to do.

His father was so gentle mannered and quiet and he loved his mom. Making a copy of his wife, when they found out they were expecting. Both Bakugo and Mitsuki butting heads due to being so similar. If anyone could talk to him it was Masaru.

“What do I do? I need her” He said tearfully. Katsuki had pride and not anyone could see him this vulnerable. But his father knew him so intimately it was hard to keep that wall up.

Masaru was gentle but he was firm. The only way to be with his wife for this long. “You need professional help. Therapy might be best for you.”

Bakugo nodded in defeat at his words.

Now once a week he sat in a office on a cramped couch to discuss his feelings.

He hated it.

Everytime the therapist asked him a question Katsuki wanted to snap at him. Instead taking a deep breath and grumbling out an answer.

Remembering that you would move on and could find someone if he didn’t do this.

Now his worst nightmare came true. As he was trying to work on himself you had moved on. Icy Hot being a dumbass and rambling about seeing you last night with a “friend”, Bakugo knew all your friends and what he had described was a date.

He got off of work and went straight to the bar to drink. Something he did rarely but today called for a drink.

You were sleeping in your bed as one does at 2am. When your ex boyfriend pounded on your door waking you and your neighbors up.

Jumping from your sleep at the noise of his giant fist slamming against the door. At first you thought someone was breaking in but the incessant banging shook the sleep from your head. Dragging yourself out of bed to swing open your door. To see your ex leaning against the doorframe towering over you. Liquor on his breath and cloudy red eyes. He looked so different from the last time you saw him. Bloodshot eyes sunken deep with bags, he had scruff on his usual clean shaven face, and his hair was longer.

You jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You said almost tripping on your own feet to move away.

“I missed you.” He said pushing his way in.

“It’s 2am and youve been drinking.” You scolded him.

A cocky smile graced with face. “You worried about me baby.”

Okay he was really drunk.

“I’m calling you a cab home, sit on the couch.” You said grabbing your phone. Katsuki plucked it out your hand and pulled you in by the waist. Smelling your hair with a deep inhale. You shoved him back in shock.

“Katsuki! You can’t. Sit down.” You said his hand still firmly on your waist.

Now you were back in his arms he wasn’t letting go.

“I love you.” He said with a drunk slur nuzzling your neck.

You pulled your upper body back and gripped his face.

“Listen to me.”

His drunk eyes were glazed over but he focused on your voice. He nodded.

“Sit down and let me go.” You said slowly

“I already let you go once.” He said and you could see his eyes water. Your chest hurt at his words.

You sighed, “Okay, and im coming back. Just lay back on the couch.”

“Promise?”

He was such a sappy drunk.

“I promise.”

He nodded slowly letting you go and you guided him to the couch.

You grabbed a bottle of water and put two pieces of bread in a toaster.

Bakugo was face first into your couch. Gently pulling his body up he swung his arm around and yanked you into his lap.

You huffed at his touchiness.

“Eat and drink up.”

He nodded almost crumbling up the toast into a ball to eat it in under a minute and chugging the water.

At least he wasn’t fussing about the bread and water. An attempt to try to sober him up, but that seemed to fail. The only comfort knowing tomorrow morning wouldn’t be as bad for him.

“Where is he?” Katsuki asked

You were half listening to him, “Who?”

“Yuki.” He said leaning on your neck, “Your new boyfriend.”

You prepared for this, when Shoto greeted you. Still his question made your heart squeeze.

“Not here, and he’s not my boyfriend.” You corrected brushing back his hair, letting yourself fall for a moment. Knowing it was wrong. Even if the love you had for him still existed it didn’t mean you could show it. It wasn’t healthy, you broke up for a reason.

Pulling back from him, climbing out of his lap.

His hand grabbing your own and locking your fingers.

“I fucked up.” Katsuki said leaning into you. “I’m sorry.”

You froze at his words, telling yourself

hes drunk

“I’m sorry I was an asshole. I lost you.” He mumbled again with watery eyes.

Twice he had said the words that had broken you up. Holding his face you nodded with matching sad eyes..

“You weren’t all bad. We just weren’t meant to be together.” You struggled to put it into words feeling your chest ache.

He nodded slurring, “I’m changing, i’m trying.”

You hummed gently laying him back. He was finally losing steam and the drunkenness catching up to him.

“I’m happy for you.” You said putting a blanket over him.

His eyes were half open and his pinkie still locked in yours.

“I’m in therapy. Talking about my feelings n shit. You know i’d do anything for you. Ya love of my life. Can’t believe i lost ya im drowning. Im gonna be better, for you.” He murmured. His crimson eyes closed, features relaxing succumbing to sleep.

You left another glass of water on your coffee table and a trashcan by the sofa. Quietly closing your door to your bedroom. Sobbing into your pillow, wishing it was real. The small part of you still wanting for the both of you to be together. But drunken words meant nothing in the morning.

The next morning you walked in to Bakugo sleeping on your couch. He always woke up late when he drank. Two years together you knew him as well as breathing. Closing your door you didn’t want to wake him.

Around 1pm you heard shuffling and creaking of your couch. A small knock was heard on your door before Katsuki slowly came in.

He looked as terrible as last night.

“Hey,” You said quietly

He cleared his throat ashamed at what he had done, “Hi, look i don’t…whatever happened i’m sorry.”

“How are you feeling?” You said shutting the book you were reading, gesturing for him to sit on the bed.

“Like I got hit by a truck.” He admitted sitting down at the foot of the bed on the side that was previously his.

You nodded, “Um you were just drunk and mumbling. Don’t worry about it, I know drunk words don’t mean anything.”

He nodded, “My bad.”

Katsuki was getting flashes of what he said. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Drunk mumbles of what he was thinking all the time.

You shrugged, “You had a bad night. I’m just concerned that you are okay. You don’t look the best.”

He fiddled with the seam of his pants unable to look at you, “You heard everything I said last night?”

“Yeah, but like I said. I know it didn’t mean-“

Katsuki interrupted “I meant every word, at least everything I remember, it’s coming back in pieces.”

“Katsuki you were drunk and emotional. We can just mark it off as a bad night. It’s partly my fault for letting you get so close.”

In truth some of the words he said you took with a grain of salt.

Katsuki in therapy made you laugh. He always grunted about how stupid it was to talk and he would never.

He was regretful for how things ended but that was common in a breakup. Getting drunk was an outlet for unsaid emotions. Along with the fact he was a sappy drunk.

It wasn’t real.

He would never change for you.

A bad night, that’s all it would ever be.

Bakugo was getting frustrated at you letting him off the hook. This would be so much easier if you grilled him or yelled about his actions last night.

But you were giving him an out. He wanted to take it. Feelings made him sick, vulnerability scarier than any else in this world.

You knew this about him. It hurt his heart that you were still so loving to him.

Katsuki took two deep breaths and covered his face with his hands. Elbows resting on his knees.

“How did I fuck this up this bad.” He muttered to himself fighting back tears.

Unable to hear what he said you hesitantly touched his shoulder to grab his attention.

“Sorry what did you say?”

He studied you a moment and took every piece of advice that stupid therapist had given him about you.

If you want her to think about giving you a chance, you have to be honest with her. You have to make the decision to try and put her first even if it makes you uncomfortable. If you love her you will try.

Ignoring every fiber of his being screaming at him to shut up and take the out. Leave you alone so he wouldn’t have to be vulnerable.

“I said how did i fuck this up this bad.”

You shrunk back at his words, “Oh…” Recognizing the venom in his tone and mistaking the anger he had towards himself at you.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

He almost barked out a laugh, “I’m so in love with you this is killing me. And now you don’t believe anything I said.” His retinas burning with unshed tears

You swallowed at this confession. Even if you both loved each other…it wouldn’t be enough. Love isn’t enough as much as you wanted it to be.

“You were drunk I would never hold you to drunk words.”

“I meant every word. I fucked this up because I was selfish. I still love you and this is killing me. And now you’re moving on and I have no one to blame but myself. I’m trying to get better, for you. I took you for granted. But i was telling the truth last night i’m going to therapy im trying to work through my shit so if you ever changed your mind about me you won’t be miserable. So we could have a chance. I’m sorry.” He said so sadly.

Tears were dripping down your face once he finished. Shaky breaths the only noise in the room.

He was saying everything you wanted but why so late? Why did it have to get to this point for him to realize.

Katsuki froze at you crying your eyes out grabbing you and holding you to his chest as you sobbed.

“Please don’t cry. Please.” He whispered

“I wanted you to get better while we’re together. I thought maybe if i was the right person you would. But so much has happened, we’re not together anymore. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think i’m right for you. I don’t…i don’t think love is suppose to hurt this way.”

Katsuki felt like a brick was on his chest as he tried to stay afloat. You didn’t think you were suppose to be together? You didn’t think that you were right for him?

When in all this time, that was the only thing Katsuki was sure of.

“You are the only girl for me. The only person in this world I want to be with. We’ve been apart and that’s what is hurting us, not our love for each other.” Katsuki was cradling your face regret written all over his, “I know. I made a mistake. It took me losing you to figure that out but i’m making changes i’m trying.”

“I can’t…”

“Please baby please.” Katsuki didn’t care he was begging now. Pride out the window the second he decided to come over last night belligerent. These past two months without you were agony. He couldn’t imagine doing this for the rest of his life.

“I can’t trust you to do the same as last time. I don’t want to do that again.” You said your hand over his, tears still dripping.

He nodded, “Okay, I understand. What do you want me to do, I’ll do it. I can’t be without you anymore baby I can’t sleep, I can’t eat I need you. Just one more chance, that’s all i’m asking. I promise I won’t screw it up. I’ll prove to you we’re right for each other, I’ll earn your trust back.”

You took deep breaths pulling back from him Katsuki kept your hands in his, his face leaning into yours, vermillion eyes frantic studying your own. Trying to break through the walls you had built up in your time apart. His other hand wiping your tears.

You took 3 shaky breaths trying to calm down your breathing. “You have to keep going to therapy. We won’t be together until I see actions not just words.” You said “I need to see you make an effort. I don’t want to go back to the same relationship. If you really want to change for me you need to show it. And no more trying to buy my love instead of apologizing.”

Bakugo was holding his breath hoping for you to give him a chance he didn’t deserve.

“I don’t want to be in a relationship until I do. We can date but we aren’t together until I say so.”

Bakugo felt his chest lift. You were giving him another chance. He knew he didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve a minute more of your time. But that would change. He would make himself worthy enough to call himself your life partner. Katsuki would remove any doubt you had about him.

Bakugo nodded his head

“Whatever you want baby. Just wait for me?”

You nodded, “I’ll wait for you.”

[ashsd3ad]

# being gojo satoru’s therapist.

word count: 2.5k-ish

some angst (suicide is mentioned very briefly), no use of y/n, cursing, female!reader, idiots unknowingly pining for each other, emotionally constipated gojo

it was so fucking stupid, he didn’t need any of this. he’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern era for god’s sake.

why on earth was he being forced to see a goddamn therapist?

upon yaga’s request- well, demand actually, he was required to see a shrink because, as the principal worded it, he needed ‘a lot of fucking help’.

of course, he refused at first.

thee satoru gojo in a shrink’s office? what was that, some twisted fucking joke?

sadly for him though, yaga decided to put his foot down and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. he threatened the snowy haired man to take away his teaching job if he didn’t get the help he apparently desperately needed.

so it began, satoru gojo’s journey with his therapist.

over the course of a couple of months, satoru had grown accustomed to his routine with his therapist.

he met up with her in her cozy little office, she tried to make the conversation about his feelings and he’d redirect it to something else entirely, mainly complaining about higher ups in his field.

that always earned him a look, but she never forced him to share his inner monologues with her.

she couldn’t do that even if she wanted to anyways, he wouldn’t let her.

all of this led to an unlikely.. friendship?

well, satoru wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship, but it was.. something.

that day, was no different than their usual meetings.

a tall and lean figure made its way into her office and sat on the comfortable armchair in front of her about 30 minutes prior, but all she got from him up until that point were silences and changes of subject.

“and how did that make you feel?” god here she went again with that stupid fucking question.

satoru sighed, stretching his legs and arms a little.

sometimes she forgot how massive he actually was.

the woman briefly averted her eyes, looking everywhere but at his stupidly stunning figure, afraid yet another crack would appear in her professional persona.

she’d tell herself it wasn’t her fault, it was only natural after all! he was just very nice to look at.

she could be pretty dense, for a therapist.

“you worry too much,” he said casually, albeit a little irritated, after some back and forth. for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, his mood wasn’t the best that day, but he still tried to keep his usual laid back attitude, hiding the annoyance behind a pout. for her sake.

“i’ve told you countless times, i’m here just because i was basically forced, nothing is actually wrong with me.. if yaga didn’t constantly check in with you, i wouldn’t even attend our ‘sessions’ in the first place”.

well.. if he had to be completely honest, satoru had told only half the truth.

he attended their meetings also because his therapist was a very pretty sight to look at, and surprisingly interesting to talk to (when she wasn’t trying to pry into his feelings, that is.)

satoru was more than aware she was only trying to do her job, he really was. he just.. didn’t care, so he decided he was going to make it her problem. maybe he’d manage to get her to her wits end and she’d finally give up on him.

‘please don’t give up on me’

gojo leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. a playful smile took over his previously pouty lips as he said something along the lines of ‘why don’t we talk about YOUR feelings instead?’.

maybe he could joke his way out of this? he hoped he could.

his therapist sighs, scrunching her nose and pinching the bridge of it slightly. cute.

“we don’t talk about my feelings because i am your therapist, not the other way around, gojo” she countered, trying to keep the conversation as workplace appropriate as possible, suppressing the urge to headbutt the stubbron (and gorgeous) man in front of her.

the woman was very proud of her skills as a therapist, so much so that the lack of progress with this peculiar snowy haired man left her particularly dissatisfied, so she started putting slightly more effort than usual in trying to crack his façade, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“and, for your information, i do worry about you for a reason” she continued, voice firm, stern even.

‘she really worries about me?’

“judging by the very limited amount of insight on yourself you’ve provided me, you really do need someone to talk to about your feelings” his pretty therapist added, looking at him straight in the eyes.

she looked like she wanted to obliterate his sunglasses with her mind.

‘don’t look at me like that’

feelings feelings feelings, he was so tired of hearing her going on about them.

after that statement his mood quickly worsened even more, his face fading in a cold, borderline cynical, front.

‘well, thats a first’ she thought to herself, a little taken aback.

satoru had been curious about what exactly she saw in him from day one. was it concern? pity?

‘i don’t want her pity’

whatever it was, it was a waste of time on both ends.

"i see" he hummed thoughtfully as he tapped his fingers against his knee, pondering on his next words. "can I ask you something?"

“sure, go ahead” she answered calmly, a bit of unsureness and skepticism detectable in her voice given the sudden shift in his character.

satoru seemed to stare right through her for a few moments. his gaze was cold and unmoving, his eyes felt like they were piercing hers in a way that no other client's ever has.

“have you ever considered…” he begins slowly, voice low “that you might not be as good at this job as you think you are?”

his words were sharp, each one chosen with great intent. there was something behind his eyes that both fascinated and terrified her.

‘im sorry’

her eyes widened momentarily at his question.

a flash of annoyance, maybe even anger, thundering in them as her eyebrows furrowed, her lips parting to throw an equally biting remark back at him.

be professional.

she took a deep breath and crossed one leg over the other, speaking calmly once again.

“if you want to criticise my skills you’re free to do so, even though you’re not qualified to do so” the woman retorted.

“and if you want a different therapist you’re more than free to ask mr. yaga” her words did have a little edge to them, but she still managed to keep most of her composure.

before the man in front of her could get a word in, she added one more thing.

“but from my perspective, a therapist’s perspective, you do need one” she said as she tapped her heeled foot on the ground.

‘i know i need help’

‘help me please’

satoru pondered for a couple of seconds, then he chuckled humourlessly as he leaned back in his chair.

his face was stoic, similar to a statue, and his eyes lacked their usual shininess, almost looking muddy.

not that she’d noticed anyways, considering they were hidden behind his glasses.

there was an intensity to his gaze though, one that made even just looking at him feel as if she was under a microscope.

"I think you're taking this too personally." he hums, mocking her ever so slightly.

"i’m not criticising your skills per se, all I'm saying is..." he pauses for a moment, considering how best to say it. "even a blind man could see your ‘concern’ for me runs deeper than the usual pity you feel for all your patients”

“you must think i’m really fucking pathetic, huh?”

what the fuck was he going on about?

“my concern for you, or any other patient for the matter, is not based on pity in the first place, gojo” she looked at him, her face bewildered.

“you think i pity you?” she raised both her eyebrows in question, the incredulous expression still on her face.

satoru chuckles. though the sound is soft and quiet, delightful to hear, something about its sweetness makes it bone chilling.

nonetheless, this made her excited.

it was the widest range of emotions he’d ever shown her.

‘im breaking through!’

“do you not?” he asks, shifting in his chair, and leaning back in it once again, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“why else would you be trying as hard as you are to ‘fix’ me?” he asks, a frown stretched across his gorgeous face.

“i’m just a client like any other, but yet here you are! trying your damn hardest to change me.”

ah, so he did noticed her extra effort huh. fuck.

still, who the hell put the idea she pitied him into his stupid head?

“i do not pity you, gojo. i’ve seen patients far worse than you are” she said, almost sounding a little defensive.

“and i’m not trying to ‘fix you’, or change you for that matter! that is not my job!” she exclaimed, a smidge too loud, massaging her temple with one of her hands immediately after. probably to chase away the growing headache he’d given her.

‘i managed to piss off my own therapist what the fuck is wrong with me and why do i even care?’

before he was completely swallowed by his self deprecating thoughts, her voice brought him back once again, like a saving grace.

“my job is helping patients navigate through their emotions, using methods that are tailored perfectly for them” she explained.

“i communicate with my patients to help them find a way to process their feelings that works for them. i do not pity them, i just help them” she paused “..or, well, try to. if they let me” the woman concluded, face serious.

his face twists in distaste as he listened to her speak. bullshit.

“that’s the thing though,” he responds slowly “i don’t need help with that”

the man pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, finally meeting her eyes properly.

‘he’s so pretty’

“you think I need your little ‘tools’? or to talk about my feelings??” he said, annoyance lacing his voice.

“i have always known how to process my emotions. I don’t need you to teach me how. i’m. fine.”

she barely held back the urge to scoff.

gojo had never realised how bad his coping mechanism were, and she was just trying to get him to develop healthier ones, bit by bit.

‘communicating would be a great fucking start’

evidently though, it wasn’t working, so she decided it was time to switch up her approach and be a little brazen, maybe that would work.

“you? processing emotions? that’s a good one.” she snickered

he scrunched his nose up, questioningly “and what could you possibly mean by that, huh?” he felt himself get more and more agitated as the seconds ticked by.

he felt like he was being stripped naked, exposed, against his will. all the things he’d worked so hard to bury, the careless persona he’d built..

‘stop looking at me, stop finding out things about me i don’t want you to know.’

“you bottle everything up, pretend it’s fine and let it eat at you from the inside, little by little” she looked at him menacingly, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“that big goofy grin, or the confident smirk you put on, doesn’t work in here, gojo”

she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “in this office, i’m reading you, not the other way around” she continued ad she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“i know you’re used to getting you way, because you’re smart, even though it doesn’t look like it, but as long as your ass is sat in that chair, you won’t find a way to give me answers you think will please me”

“if your goal is to get me to tell yaga to get off your back, then we’re going to be here for loooong. i’m striving for the truth and i’m going to get it”

to hell with being professional.

the man remained silent for a few moments, his expression almost..hurt? “…I think I hate you.”

he smiled in defeat, leaning forward once again, and though his voice was even and calm, it came out a bit strained.

“no, I know I do.” he didn’t though, and that confused him to no end.

the woman gently laid her hands in her lap, trying to ignore the sting his words left in her chest as her voice went back to its usually stoic connotation, completely discarding the venom it previously dripped in.

“i get that a lot from patients like yourself” she started, calmly.

“usually, they drop therapy after a few session because they can’t handle the truth being thrown in their face and then, after a while..”

a pause, like she was choosing her next words carefully “they end up dropping dead on the floor when the fire crew cuts the rope they hung themselves from” she finished, her expression darkening ever so slightly.

“you think you don’t need help, you think you’re fine just ignoring your emotions, but one day they will catch up to you and it’ll be too late to save you” her voice lowered, almost shamefully, as she tore her eyes away from his.

“nobody will be there to save you from drowning.”

satoru looked shocked for a moment, then he felt a sudden and unprovoked rage take over his body.

how dare she?

he wasn’t like that. he was strong. the strongest, actually.

he wordlessly jumped up from of his seat and went to stride straight out of the room, with the intention of never stepping foot there again, but then he stopped, his back still to her.

for some weird reason he couldn’t quite comprehend, gojo felt the need to still try and prove he was fine, despite the fact the issues he’d tried so hard to hide had been uncovered and brought up to the scorching sunlight.

“i’m not stupid. i am perfectly aware shit might eventually catch up to me, but i’m the strongest fucking being that ever walked this earth, i’ll deal with it”

what was meant to be a powerful statement, came out sounding whiny and hoarse, almost like he was trying to delude himself into believing his own words.

‘at least he admitted he has issues, progress is progress’

his therapist opened her mouth to talk, but he didn’t give her a chance.

he felt like he was being consumed by a sudden and foreign rage.

“BESIDES WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?!” he suddenly screamed, rapidly turning to face her again, his glasses being hauled across the room in the process.

“why are you that concerned over some stranger like me?” he adds, his expression hard, “do you genuinely, truly, believe I’m worth helping?!”

‘we’re going to have to work on these self deprecating thoughts’

‘im the strongest, i don’t need to be cared for.’

“yes, i do” she stood up from her chair in a (failed) attempt to not crane her neck upwards to look at him.

“i do believe you are worth helping” she assured him in a gentle voice “you can walk out now, if you wish, but never forget this is a safe space where you’re free to talk, satoru” she said, her words surprisingly comforting.

“you’re not a god, you’re human just like the rest of us”

being called human never felt so good.. and it was also the first time she had ever called him by his first name.

and just like that, the usual gojo satoru was back, cracking jokes.

“do you normally call your clients by their first name, or am i special?” he asked, the question dripping with sarcasm and a tiny bit of flirt, as a small smile appeared on his lips.

the angry pretty boy has been calmed down, success.

“you definitely have a savior complex” he added quietly, chuckling a bit “it’s cute”.

a smile made its way on her face too as she shook her head a little, her cheeks a little warm at the compliment “whatever lets you sleep at night”

the woman sat back down, once again crossing one leg over the other.

“now, will you sit down and give therapy an actual chance, satoru?” she looked up at him, expectantly and hopefully.

“yeah.. yeah, i’ll do that.”

gojo satoru may have been the strongest sorcerer in modern history, but he was still human like everyone else.

☆

| @ASHSD3AD ‘S WORK, DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE. |

[cherries-in-wine]

A sort of rant/review (mostly negative) of the tortured poets department:

English isn't my first language so apologising in advance for the mistakes <3

I don't think ttpd would've had so much criticism if it wasn't so hyped up by swifties and Taylor herself. Folklore and Evermore are my favourite albums and because Taylor put so much emphasis on how good the songwriting of this album is i thought i was going to love it. So my expectations were a more Lana del rey or the national kind of vibe, orchestral pop or psychedelic rock and it would be like a third sister to folklore and evermore. I've noticed that Taylor's albums are all starting to sound like midnights. 1989 is such a good pop album but 1989 tv sounds midnightified especially the vault tracks sound like they belong on midnights. As much as I love Jack Antonoff as he gave us some great albums i think Taylor desperately needs a new producer. I think the album is definitely "raw" in the sense that unlike the other albums that are super put together, in order and organised, ttpd is messy like a bunch of paragraphs from her notes app thrown together, it isn't essentially a bad thing, but if you're gonna talk about how ttpd required more song writing talent than any other album, it's pretty reasonable for people to be disappointed. I thought name was a reference to joe's group chat name and kind of poking fun at that, but oh no it's an actual fuking asylum and the whole idea makes me very uneasy. The reason why folklore and evermore work is because it's not from the perspective of Taylor but rather the people she's made up in her mind and because she is such a good story teller those albums sound awesome. Something about a straight cis billionaire white woman calling herself a tortured poet in all seriousness and romaticising asylums/electroshock therapy makes me so so so uncomfortable. I understand why swifties are so defensive and protective of Taylor, with all the shit that happened with Kim and Kanye but I feel like they think she's a god that can do no wrong, which is stupid you can like an artist but still call me them out their shitty decisions. The "oh you think her singing writing is not that good why don't you write something better" is such a stupid argument, this random person criticising Taylor isn't constantly referred to as the greatest song writer of our generation, she is. I saw a post saying "the biggest burn is that most songs are about Matty Healy and not Joe Alwyn" like excuse me but if my ex that I dated for many years just starts gushing over a slimy ass Nazi racist sexist pathetic excuse of a man, I'd go "thank god good riddance". What happened to "you are what you love" Taylor?. I really like some songs, but I keep getting disgusted when It clicks who they're about. "But daddy I love him" is a great song but it's about ratty Healy fuck off ew.

I have a lot more to say but my brain isn't braining so I'll update later lol

[munson-blurbs]

086: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Series

Chapter 003: We're the Freaks

Summary: You muster up some courage and devise a plan to help Eddie remember the good parts of his life, while the effects of his alternate dimension adventure begin to sink in.

Warnings: dark themes, mostly canon-compliant (Eddie lives), violence, blood, restraint, amnesia, abduction, mention of shock therapy, drug use, the beginnings of mutual pining hehehe

WC: 4.4k

Divider credit to @saradika

October 31, 1984

Eddie sees you before you can even greet him, lips turning upwards in a shy smile. It’s as though he was hoping you’d be at the party, desperate for the opportunity to talk with you. He stops counting the dollar bills clenched in his left hand and casts his eyes down for a second before looking back at you. 

“Hey, uh, hi. What can I do ya for?” He bites the inside of his cheek in a silent berating. You can practically hear his brain chastising him for such an awkward opening: ‘What can I do ya for?’ Christ, am I Eddie Munson or Andy Griffith? 

You hold out the twenty dollars from Carol. “Can I buy some weed?” If Worst Conversational Skills was an Olympic sport, the two of you could easily win the gold medal. Maybe they’d even create a platinum one for your extraordinary contributions. 

Eddie either doesn’t notice the way you cringe at your own question, or he doesn’t care. He only nods, rifling through his tin box. “You want just the flower or pre-rolled?” When he’s met with no answer, he brings his focus to you again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” No. Carol didn’t specify what she wanted; last time, he’d only had flower. Was she happy with that? Did she say anything about wishing it was already neatly rolled into a blunt for her to smoke? Your thumbnail tucks itself between your teeth, a nervous habit. You can practically picture her disdain at your potential mistake. And Heather won’t be able to hide her disappointment; not at your wrong decision, but the way you’re squandering your chance at popularity. 

“You sure?” Eddie props one elbow on the counter and gazes directly into your eyes, concern woven into his kind smile. “So you know, it’s not like cutting the wrong wire. Nothing explodes if you choose one over the other.”

Except whatever semblance of a social life you have left. “Totally fine. I’ll go with flower. Thanks.” You show him the crumpled bill again but he waves it off. 

“It’s on me.” He pulls out a baggie and gives it to you, the scent of marijuana pungent even through the plastic. “This is some good shit, too. Kinda makes me mad it’ll be wasted on Carol and Tommy.” He laughs when you freeze, caught in the act. “C’mon, you think I didn’t realize that you only bought from me when you started hanging out with them?” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans in slightly, pleased with his discovery. “Do you even smoke?”

You shake your head shamefully, not daring to make eye contact. 

“Do you want to?” This grabs your attention. “With me, not them,” he clarifies. 

“I shouldn’t…my parents would kill me if I come home high,” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“Listen, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything,” he says, latching the locks on the tin box. “Just figured we could hang out or something; y’know, maybe try and figure out how Carol manages to lodge such a huge stick up her ass.”

As if on cue, the person in question shouts your name from across the room, tone thick with impatience. Your middle finger itches to flip her off, but your cowardice wins—as usual. “I gotta get this to her,” you mumble, shoving the money back in your bag. “Thanks again.”

You begin to walk away, but his fingertips gently graze your wrist. An electric current flows between you, a spark that could burn bright if only you’d fan the flame. “Look, I’m not sure why someone as nice as you is hanging out with people like them, but if you ever need a friend—a real friend—just say the word.” The smile he offers this time is not one of amusement, but of empathy. I know what it’s like to mold myself into what people want me to be. “You like to read, right?”

His seemingly random question draws your brows skyward. “Yeah…?”

“Use that,” he juts his chin in the direction of your bag, where you’re storing Carol’s money, “to buy yourself a new book. A hardcover; none of that paperback bullshit.” He punctuates the statement with a wink. The gestures have your stomach in knots; all you want is to take his hand and talk with him for hours, leaving behind the pressures of status quo adherence, but you can’t. 

“Um, hello?” Carol’s screeching voice snaps you back into reality, and you shuffle over to her without formally saying good-bye to Eddie. 

You have eight months left until you graduate and can get as far away from Hawkins as you possibly can. But until that day arrives, you’re stuck playing the game. 

March 31, 1986

“Eighty-six.”

The voice is a whisper, an angel beckoning him towards heaven. 

“Eighty-six!” the voice hisses, urgently this time, much more Lucifer than Gabriel. 

Eddie jerks awake, wincing when the handcuff clangs against the gurney’s metal bar and digs into his wrist. He’s become accustomed to it while he’s awake, but it still catches him off-guard as he rejoins the land of the living. “Jesus H. Christ, what?” he grumbles, expecting the sinister stare of a white-coated man.

Instead, he sees you in the doorway: fear seeping from every pore, but not an ounce of malice in your eyes.

“Oh, hi,” he says sleepily, ease flooding his bones when he realizes he isn’t being subjected to more unpleasant memories or poking and prodding–yet. He uses his free hand to scratch at the stubble forming along his jawline. “055, right?”

You nod, lip firmly tucked between your teeth. His grogginess means that he’s moving at a pace far too slow for your liking, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. “Yeah, mhm; that’s me.” You check over your shoulder to ensure no one’s coming, then duck into his room. “The doctors are busy with another patient,” you start, omitting that their busy-ness involves electroconvulsive therapy for “non-compliance,” “so we have a few minutes for me to pull a memory, if you want.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, softly but enthusiastically. A smile tugs at his lips. “Can you do another one with Dustin? But, like, a less, um, terrible one?” He can still taste his own blood in his mouth when he thinks about it.

“I’ll do my best,” you promise, standing in front of him. He looks naked without his signature wild mane; there’s no longer anything for him to hide behind. How many times had you seen him in class, carelessly running his hands through his hair, his rings getting snagged on a rogue curl? All of it–the jewelry included–is now gone. You can’t even reassure him that it’ll grow back, because the doctors will ensure that it’s kept closely shaved. 

He assumes the same position as he did the previous day, but with one major difference: he extends his hand, an unmistakable attempt to hold yours.

“Oh, um,” you stammer, simply staring at it. “We don’t…you don’t need to do that for this to work,” you supply.

Eddie withdraws, not only his hand, but his body caves in from the rejection. He gives a quick nod, shoulders gently hunched so he takes up less space. 

Immediately, your heart lurches. “I mean, we can if you…if it’ll help you feel better.” If you want to is too loaded a statement to make. “I just wanted you to know that it isn’t, like, required.”

“I know.” 

With those two words, you reach out and take his palm in yours, sweat-slicked despite the lab’s perpetual chill. The rough calluses on his fingertips scratch against your skin as his lifelines merge with your own.You remember comparing with Heather back in fourth grade, sitting on a bench during recess while the other kids played dodgeball or fought over the playground's sole tire swing. She swore that she could read some hidden meaning behind them. You’d always thought it was mumbo-jumbo, that there was no way she could obtain that information from etches in your hand or the direction of your fingerprint swirls. 

When she’d read her own palm, how long did she say she would live? Was it eighteen years, the age she was on that fateful night?

“You okay?” Eddie’s head is cocked slightly as though examining the gears turning within your skull. “I dunno if this hurts you or anything, but we don’t have to do this,” he says. “I’ll get my memories back another way.” 

You shake your head, well-aware that there aren't any other feasible options, especially for happy memories. The scientists only want to see who was with him in the Nether, and from what you’ve gleaned, no part of that experience was pleasant. 

“It’s fine,” you mutter, embarrassed that he has to comfort you. “It doesn’t hurt me. You’re the one who’ll end up with a headache,” you point out. 

“Fair enough.”

You swallow your nerves, heart beating in your ears. If the doctors find you in here unsupervised and without permission…your mind won’t allow you to consider the consequences. Perhaps you’ll be next in line for Ol’ Shocky. “I need you to think about your friend Dustin. Picture him and bring the image to the forefront of your mind. Try not to let your thoughts wander.”

Eddie nods, mouthing Dustin’s name over and over as you delve deep into his brain, using his sole memory—and your memory of that memory—as guidance. 

After what seems like eons, you latch onto one and tug it to the surface triumphantly. You can feel blood trickling down your nose and over your lips, but you do your best to focus on the task at hand. 

Hawkins High’s cafeteria is buzzing with excited conversation, the phrases “I missed you!” and “how was your summer?” and “did you hear about what happened at Starcourt?” seem to be constants. A banner hung up in the entryway reads ‘WELCOME BACK, TIGERS!’, complete with an illustration that some poor art club sap was probably volunteered to paint. 

Eddie keeps his gaze trained on the tile floor, avoiding anyone and anything. He just needs to get to his table, eat lunch, and repeat every day until—

The sound of a lunch tray clattering to the ground, followed by a cacophony of malicious chuckles, grabs his attention. He watches as a group of seniors gather around a table, laughing hysterically. 

“C’mon, seriously?” A kid—Dustin, you both determine from the earlier memory pull—whines at the ruined pizza slice below him. 

“What’s that?” One of them sneers. “I don’t speak Mushmouth.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and flips off the older kid. “You’re lucky Steve graduated already, or he’d kick your ass!” he shouts.

The second boy hides his face as though hoping he won’t be their next victim, but his vulnerability makes him a prime target. Down, down, down falls his lunch, followed by one belonging to a scrawny kid who looks like a poster boy for The Gap. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to ignore the situation, but his conscience steers him towards the kids. “Show’s over,” he grumbles, using the strength acquired from lugging amps to break it up. He grabs one of the bullies by the collar—a jock, Andy something-or-other, according to his letterman jacket—and snarls, “get the fuck outta here before I tip off your coach to check your piss.” 

Andy just nods, attempting to play it cool, but Eddie can feel him trembling under his grip. He puffs up his chest and walks away, taking his posse with him. 

“Thanks,” Scrawny Kid mumbles, haphazardly brushing chocolate milk residue off his clothes. He refuses to make eye contact, thoroughly humiliated on his first day of high school. 

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie says casually. “Just, uh, it might help your case if you don’t dress like some prep school wannabe.” He grins, and to his delight, the boys smile with him. 

Scrawny Kid shakes his shaggy hair from his eyes. “I’m Mike, and this is Lucas,” he points to the kid who’d tried to make himself invisible, “and Dustin.” The kid branded ‘Mushmouth’ gives a small wave. 

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Weird Al, huh?” he laughs, unable to hide his amusement at Dustin’s choice of t-shirt. “Christ, you three are clueless.” He cocks an inquiring eyebrow. There’s one place he can take them under his wing and keep them safe from the moldy jockstraps known as the Hawkins High basketball team. 

“You little freaks ever play Dungeons and Dragons?”

The sound of approaching footsteps down the hall pulls you from his psyche, and you blink a few times to clear your vision. “Shit, I’m sorry.” You swipe at the blood under your nose, leaving a crimson stain in its wake. “I gotta go, but we can meet up again tomorrow.” You start towards the door, but his uncuffed hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, drawing you back.

“Wait…before you go.” Fear radiates from his deep brown irises. “I know you’ll have to pull more memories–bad ones–for them.” He swallows thickly, trying to stave off tears. “But if they ask you to do it while I’m sleeping, can you wake me up first?” he asks weakly. 

Realization crashes over you; his first returned memory was his near death, watching his friend witness the life draining from his limp body. 

“Yes.” The word is firm, confident, though you’re making a promise you’re unsure you can keep. 

Eddie manages a small smile, but it emanates gratitude, and you return it. You want to stay, to search for every happy moment in his life and allow him to bask in their joy, even if just for a moment. But both of you risk serious punishment if you’re caught, and so you make your escape as inconspicuous as possible.

Eddie lays back, staring at the fluorescent lights until his eyes start to water. Thoughts swirl through his mind, a roller coaster off of its track. In addition to Dustin, there’s Mike and Lucas. And Dustin had mentioned someone named Steve, which rang the faintest of bells. 

It’s a common name, he thinks. Could be anyone. Yet something deep inside nags at him, an instinct that he can’t shake. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

He twists the bed sheet below him until the thin fabric tears with an audible riiiiiip. His life has been reduced to two meager moments: saving three nerds from a jockstrap with an inflated ego, and losing in a battle against some bat-like creatures. Nothing before that, and nothing between. 

The after is right now, imprisoned in this room with no evidence of a crime, let alone anything pinning him as a suspect. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

He wills himself to remember any other details. What was it that he said at the memory’s conclusion? Something about Dungeons and Dragons?

“C’mon,” Eddie mutters, eyelids shut tight in concentration. Maybe it would be better to keep them open, like he does when you’re pulling a memory. Since there’s nowhere else to look, he stares down the broken clock, all three hands frozen in place. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

Dustin Lucas Mike Steve. 

Dustin Lucas Mike—

The hour hand ticks forward. 

Eddie shoots up, yanking the cuff along with his body. No, he must be hallucinating. When was the last time he ate something? Or perhaps the ancient batteries had a little kick left in them. 

Something implores him to try it again. 

His eyes lock onto the clock, channeling all of his anger and confusion to move the hand another centimeter. 

There’s a gentle splintering noise, so quiet that he’d be unable to hear it if another person in the room was breathing. It gets louder until the glass frame covering the clock face shatters completely, shards clattering to the floor like rain. 

No battery glitch could explain that. And it couldn’t explain his nosebleed, identical to yours when you utilized your powers. 

He can’t even clean his face before dizziness overtakes him, and it all goes black. 

November 9, 1984

It’s been just over a week since Tina’s Halloween party. The talk of the high school is still Steve and Nancy’s bathroom argument—and subsequent breakup—though new developments about two teachers getting frisky in the staff lounge has taken some of the attention away from them. 

“Hey,” Carol says, leaning against the locker next to yours and obnoxiously popping her bubble gum, “that shit you got from The Freak was pretty good.” She raises her eyebrows in amusement and challenge. “If you can score some more, you and Heather should smoke with us.”

Translation: you’ll get more weed, and if you don’t, I’ll tell Heather that you ruined it for everyone. You can picture the look of disappointment on her face, slumped shoulders and dejected frown screaming, you let me down. 

“Yeah, I’ll see if he still has any,” you mumble, grabbing your history textbook and slamming the door. You spin the lock’s dial and give it a tug to ensure it’s closed, giving Carol the chance to leave. 

She doesn’t. 

“Y’know, maybe it’s because Heather’s been vouching for you,” she starts, blowing another watermelon-scented bubble, “but you’re not as much of a drag as I thought you were.” It’s her version of a compliment, and you hesitantly accept it with a nod. “Anyway, eight o’clock. My place.” She flounces off, probably to find and cling to Tommy, leaving you with a churning gut.

The closest you’ve ever been to smoking weed was getting a contact high at the party. Carol and Tommy hadn’t offered to share, and you didn’t certainly volunteer yourself. If you try and end up coughing like a tuberculosis patient, you’ll never live it down. If you decline to smoke with them, you’ll all but solidify your role as the loser, straight-laced outsider and catapult yourself from their inner circle. And if you don’t show up at all? Heather will never forgive you.

You keep your textbook clutched to your chest, making a beeline for class. Goody two-shoes can’t be late. No, she’ll get there early; maybe place a shiny red apple on the teacher’s desk, and sit patiently with her hands folded. Just like she always has; just like she always will.

You’re so intensely focused that you bump into someone, your head snapping up at the sudden collision. The textbook slips from your grip and hits the ground with a thud. 

“What’s the big rush?”

Eddie. 

You shake your head. “Nothing. Sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going—”

“No worries,” Eddie says with a small laugh, leaning over and picking up the book. He hands it to you and smiles. “See you around?”

Now’s your chance. “Actually, I was hoping we could meet up after school,” you force out the request, not realizing the implication until he cocks his brow. “To buy some more, um…” You look away, unable to finish the sentence in fear that the wrong person will overhear. 

Eddie grins, eyes alight with anticipation. “Yeah, of course,” he replies. “After school, during lunch, even right now, if you want. Got it all in here.” He gives his tin box a proud slap. 

“After school is fine,” you say hurriedly. There’s that one other favor you need; it hides behind your molars and sticks to your tongue. “Would…could you maybe…show me how?” Your cheeks are so hot that your face may as well be ablaze. “Carol asked me to join them, but I’ve never…and I don’t wanna look like a total moron…” Shut up, shut up, shut up. 

His face briefly shifts expressions, something resembling disappointment, though you can’t pinpoint it before his usual shy smile returns. “Sure. Meet me by the picnic benches right after last period.”

“Thanks.” You give your book a squeeze, fingernails digging into the old newspaper you’d repurposed as a book cover. Eddie gives a quick nod before disappearing into the hallway, packed with students. The whole encounter has your head spinning; you’re going to smoke pot in the woods with Eddie Munson. It’s almost distracting enough to make you late to class. 

Almost. You’re not risking detention for this. 

March 31, 1986

Eddie awakens to the pungent odor of vinegar and something sulphuric, rousing him back to consciousness. His eyes water even after Dr. Snell removes the bundle of smelling salts from under his nose.

“086,” the doctor says stoically, fishing a tiny key from his pocket. His unnerving stare never leaves Eddie as he unlocks the cuff and untangles the chain. “I see you’ve been busy.” He gestures towards the pile of broken glass on the floor, lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

“It was an accident,” Eddie mumbles, flexing his wrist and feeling the blood begin to circulate again.

Dr. Snell chuckles, sending a shiver shooting down Eddie’s spine. “Was it?” He leans over; Eddie hates his confidence that he won’t be attacked. All he wants is to wring the man’s neck like a washcloth, but he recalls your advice to earn their trust. He’ll have to remain calm if he ever wants to learn more about Dustin, Mike, Lucas, or Steve; if he ever wants to learn more about himself. 

Eddie nods pathetically. Technically, he’d only been trying to make the hand move again, to see if it was just a fluke, but he’d ended up with a shattered clock instead. “I don’t understand how…”

“Dr. Moseley would like to conduct some tests.” Dr. Snell selects his words carefully. “See what other new skills you’ve acquired during your little adventure.”

“No…” Eddie starts, catching himself before he can protest further. He swallows, throat sore with aridness. “I mean, I don’t think I have any other, um, skills.”

The doctor sneers. “That’s for us to determine, isn’t it?” He tugs on Eddie’s arm, hoisting him from the cot and guiding him down a long, dimly-lit hallway. His torso aches with each step, but when he tries to stop and breathe, Dr. Snell continues pulling him along.

“G-Gimme a sec,” Eddie finally pleads aloud, and the doctor relents with an irritated huff. It’s not from sympathy–Eddie doubts there’s a selfless bone in the man’s ugly body–but likely because he wants to avoid a ripped stitch or another fainting spell. Whatever the reason, he’s grateful for the small break.

The room he’s brought to is white on white; there’s not a stitch of color. He’s seated at a table while doctors attach adhesive-backed electrodes to his temples and forehead, cold and slimy on his skin. 

Salt-and-Pepper—Dr. Moseley, he surmises—approaches him with a thin-lipped smile. “Good afternoon, 086.” But there’s nothing good about it, and Eddie can’t even be sure it’s truly the afternoon. “I heard you had a bit of an incident today, yes?”

The doctor already knows the answer, so Eddie doesn’t bother to lie. “Yes. I, um, made the clock hand move and then broke the glass. With my mind,” he adds, as though there was any confusion about the means in which it occurred. 

“Excellent.” Dr. Moseley shoos the others out of the room, so he and Eddie are alone. As soon as the door closes, he sits in a chair across from his patient, tapping a pen on a clipboard. 

“I’m going to ask you to complete a series of tasks,” he tells him, somehow already marking notes. “Some tasks will be to assess your existing abilities; others will be to strengthen them.” He motions towards a large monitor. “This will detect any changes in brain wave activity with remarkable accuracy.” 

In other words, don’t phone it in. You will be caught. 

Dr. Moseley grabs a rubber ball off of a shelf, rolling it in between his palms before placing it in front of Eddie. “We’ll start off slow; see where you are.” He clears his throat. “Move this ball–using only your mind–as far as you can manage.” 

Eddie nods, clearing every thought except for move. Move move move. He chants it silently, his lips parting but no sound coming out. Maybe if he does this, they’ll be less stringent about memory accession. Maybe you’ll get him to a point where he can begin to connect the dots and remember on his own. Maybe—

“Focus, 086.”

He makes a strangled noise in response. Move move move. Move for Dustin, for Lucas, for—

The ball rolls slightly—not even a full inch—but it’s noticeable enough to draw approval from the doctor. 

“Well done, 086. And on your first try.” God, Eddie would love to smack the smirk clean off of his face. “Let’s continue with our assessment, shall we?”

There’s a memorization task next; apparently, his short-term recall is above average, Dr. Moseley reports. After this, the doctor makes drawings on a notepad that Eddie must decipher without physically looking at them. It’s by far the most difficult of the activities. He harnesses all of his energy trying to determine what is being sketched, but he comes up blank each time. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, wiping the blood from his nose. “I can’t do it. I want to,” he adds, not wanting his inability to be misconstrued as disobedience, “but I can’t.”

To his utter shock, Dr. Moseley accepts this, likely because the monitor corroborates his admission. “Not yet. But with continued training, you will.” He detaches the electrodes from Eddie’s head snd motions for him to stand with one crooked finger, and Dr. Snell re-enters at the same time. 

“Wait,” Eddie chokes out as the second doctor leads him away, “I noticed something.” He takes a breath, garnering the doctors’ attention. “I was able to break the clock and move the ball when I thought about Dustin—” he stops abruptly, not wanting to give away the secret session you’d had earlier. “I think if 055 finds more memories with them—him—I’ll be able to channel that emotion into doing more tasks.”

The room falls dead silent until Dr. Moseley speaks. “I’ll consider it,” he finally says. 

Not a win but not a loss, Eddie thinks as he shuffles back down the hallway, feet sticking to the tile. But I’m not going down without a fight. No way. 

--

tag list (still open):

@munsonmuses @vintagehellfire @chrissymjstan @munsonology @lady-munson @roadkill-writes @randomreader1999 @babez-a-licious @madelynraemunson @the-unforgivenn @nailbatanddungeon @lokis-army-77 @laurenlokirby @american-idiot-jpg @str4ngergirlw0rld @gnrquinn @katethetank @inourtownofhawkins @rorylover71 @kirisuteg0men @tlclick73 @aysheashea

[wolven91]

A Coiled Mind

"Desh? Can I speak to you for a moment?" asked the human on the ssypno’s door step.

"Ah Daniel, of course you can; please come in!"

The human known as Daniel was a diligent worker, but even Desh had noticed a marked change in their demeanour recently, one that had worried her. Very new to the galactic scene, the humans were industrious and quick to pick up new tasks once shown, but thanks to the chaos of a few months ago, Desh considered them fragile. 

As his direct controller, she wanted to make sure she was available for him, but hadn't pressured him to speak in case he hadn't wanted to. She wasn’t a psychologist, she had no formal training and had to rely on the official government therapy sessions given to the humans that they would be enough or catch any pent up emotions. 

He stepped into her home and stood there awkwardly for a moment, scratching at his arm. It took a moment to twig that something was seriously wrong as she made her way to get him a drink from the kitchen area. 

She stopped her short journey across the room and looked back at him, frowning and returning to the man. The large serpent lowered herself down to his level. Her length was immense and trailed lazily round the room, but she pulled herself into a tight knit of a roiling mass of scales to give the smaller human more space in her home. He had worked with her a while now, so she assumed he was fine with her, but was aware that she could still be intimidating at the best of times.

"Daniel? Is everything... okay?" She reached out a hand, but hesitated. She so desperately wanted to touch him, but was unsure if she was allowed to at this moment. Humans were one of the races to be warm blooded, but were the only one without a dense layer of fur. Thanks to this lack of insulation, they were walking, talking heat lamps to her kind. It would be so easy to hold on to them and never let go, but she mustn't, she had to give them space lest she scare him off, they were significantly smaller after all at only six foot tall compared to her forty five feet on length.

"I... I just.. it-" he cut himself off as a sob broke forth. She made the call to surge forward and pull him into a tight hug against herself. Two of her arms, the lower set grasping his back while her upper set; one hand found the back of his neck and her fourth and final hand slid through his short brown fur that topped his head. Her muscular lower body, a single thick tube of scales and muscles wound around his legs and raised him up into the air so she could hold him without stooping low.

"Hey! Heeeey, come on now... it's okay... it's okay now.. " She said, continuing to whisper sweet nothings into his ear as she propelled herself backwards into her home. To an outsider, it would appear as if she were a predator with a successful hunt within her clutches. 

She weaved and wrapped him thoroughly against herself as he quaked and sobbed against her.

Eventually he did begin to settle and started to apologise for his 'outburst'. Desh was shocked and sickened to think that he thought the need to apologise for something as natural as his reactions.

His home world was lost, he was part of an endangered species, he had every right to be upset and yet he had soldiered on for two months since the catastrophic events of the Sol System.

"Human Daniel, do not ever apologise to me for seeking me out to unwind. If you need to cry, you cry to me. If you don't want anyone else to know, then no one will know my friend... okay?"

He nodded his head, trying to wipe his eyes with hands already wet with his tears.

"If your kind are half as strong as you, then you will all be alright friend-Daniel, but I think today will be spent here, if that is alright?" He nodded again and whispered; 

"I'd like that Desh... thank you..."

Her tail began to wind and spool around his shorter legs bringing them together before it wound up further curling around his hips and stomach. She gave him the option to have his arms down or up, to which he placed his arms against himself. Her tail finished by sinching around the tiny neck that all humans had.

Feeling bold, she grasped his head in either of her hands, the deep blue scales standing in stark contrast to his skin.

"Look into my eyes dear.. look how they swirl with colours, do you see?"

His tense body within her coils started to ease. In the primitive times, this would be where she would tighten and squeeze her prey before devouring it whole.

But for now, she would luxuriate in the waves of heat he gave off. She would let him rest and sooth, while she was paid in the most intimate spar treatment she had ever felt.

No wonder she was banned from touching Humans normally, nothing would ever get done if it felt like this...

[cereusblue]

https://gofund.me/96bce824

Hi, all. So, I've had a day from hell and I'm too exhausted to re-explain on another platform. But here, I'll copy paste the story here. TLDR at the bottom. If you can't help, pass it on. Literally everything helps. Love you all.

Good day all, thank you for stopping your busy day to check my page.

Let me lay out the situation as best I can.

First off, some background for myself and my family. My fiancee and I only have(had) one functioning car between us when we took in a family member of his in an emergency CPS case. We are trying our hardest to take care of her and teach her how to be a person, but our schedules and only having one vehicle has made that a struggle. She has gotten a job just last week and is working hard to get on her feet. It's great and we are very proud of her! It's part time for the time being while she learns how to manage finances and how the world works.

However, since October things have started taking a turn for the worse. Between my fiancee and I, we both worked minimum wage and in October I bent over to put on a shoe and my back made a horrible crack noise. I went to the ER in immense pain and despite having insurance, I still got dumped with a hefty bill that to this day I am still trying to pay off. I have gone through physical therapy as requested by my doctor, since he didn't want to operate on someone of my age. However, it did nothing but agitate the problem. While I can now move around again, bending over and lifting anything past 15 pounds is strenuous. I'm in pain every single day and even sitting up is difficult most days. I can't stand up for long anymore before it becomes too much on my back. But things continue to happen, as they do. I was set to come back to see my surgeon this year but on Dec 29th in the last hour of the day, my job decided that an AI system could completely take over my job and laid me off. Getting unemployment as well as answers back from my previous work has been very difficult. My benefits were cut off with no chance to refill medications or see my surgeon. So, now my continued treatment to fix my back on top of my other health issues have all been put on pause. I've been working for almost two years now to get treatment and figure out what's wrong with my health, but I am now on a desperate search for a new job.

Which leads us to today. We are already strapped for money, and on a trip to an interview and my fiancee going to work, we got taken down a gravel road that looked deceptively fine. Driving across, the ice was far deeper than it appeared and it destroyed the grill, bumper, and wheel well (I believe that's what it's called) aka part of the frame that covers the front wheels broke and are hanging. That's not where it ends. So, I took the car to get it temporarily fixed so we could hopefully figure something out to get repairs done. The car got a temporary fix, and then I proceeded to take the car to pick up my fiancee from work. He and I began our drive back home, and as we were passing train tracks a doe jumped out into the road way too close to us. She only came into view as she appeared in the lights of the car, immediately getting bodied by the car. As you can see from the image, she destroyed the hood of the car and much more. I feel horrible for the poor thing and I hope she went quickly, noticing the fur and blood on the front bumper. We managed to get the car home, but the check engine light came on. This car is a Toyota prius. Anyone who knows anything about a prius knows they are basically tin cans. So, the worry is that the cooling system is busted now too. This will exponentially increase the amount we need to pay to repair the vehicle.

The worst part is, is that this is the only car we have to go to work and for me to go to interviews. I do have a car, but it's not in running condition right now. The poor thing is a 1999 and needs some parts replaced that we have not had the funds or availability to get a list of parts and have them replaced. The car also can't move anyway right now and would need towed. The prius is our only vehicle we have, and I don't have the funds to drop on fixing it. Insurance won't pay for it as far as we have been made aware by the body shop because of the type of insurance we have.

So, this is the current estimate we have to work with in regards to repairs. The entire front, hood, coolant system, and I know a few more pieces need replaced. The prius can run and be moved to a body shop at least, but paying for it will be a nightmare. If he can't get to work, we are in major trouble. My fiancee, his little sister, and I all rely on this car for work. While I'm still looking for work, I'm very limited because of my current physical state. We've spent a lot of money on my Healthcare already and every day are worried I'm going to reach for something and have my back crack again. While we are working on Medicaid, these things are proving a slow process. They also don't cover previous medical bills when I did have insurance. So, our only choice is to live off his income currently while I'm on a search for a new job every day. Our lives depend on this one car. Especially since we live out in the woods and work is 40 minutes away.

If you've read this far, I appreciate every single second of your time. Every single hand this gofundme goes through will be a huge help. If you can't help, that's okay, please don't stress your own financials if youre in a tough spot. If you can pass this along to anyone you can, that would be more than enough. Thank you again, and I wish you all better fortune this 2024.

For those who can't read the whole thing;

TLDR; Me and my family are already going through a lot of financial troubles with my health and being laid off, our only mode of transportation is severely damaged from an unmaintained roads massive pothole and hitting a deer in the same day. Three people rely on this one vehicle for all our jobs and interviews that are far from home. Donate if you can, if not, please share and thank you so very much.

Also including another picture here for you all to see. Thank you all again, I wish you better fortune this year.

[petalsthefish]

Okay okay I hear ya. I'm an OG, 30+ fan who agrees with you on Jily.

But the question I need to know is Wolfstar - virtually canon or a fan fever dream?

Please base this on your experiences as an OG fan and not in the hellscape that modern Wolfstar has become!

I’ve always liked wolfstar, I think it’s fun, but it’s not my be all end all! Also, a lot of the newer wolfstar seems to have changed the Remus and Sirius characters a ton, which is interesting to me because the characters were a good match without the gradual fanon interpretation in the last five years.

Anyways, based on what canon gives, I have my own opinion on all four marauders below:

James is Straight. He dates girls, loves girls, and marries Lily aka HIS SOULMATE. The man honestly took one look at Lily and said “I’m gonna be an idiot for the rest of my life just for her” and I support that jocks choices with every fiber of my being. That being said, I love reading modern AUs with bi James as long as he’s not with R3gul*s, Sn8pe, or other Slytherins who join the DE. I’d be defending Prongsfoot faster than I’d get with wolfstar tbh

Sirius is Asexual. He don’t give two flying fucks. I have one sentence in the entire series to go off of for this so no one get mad at me if you think I’m delulu for this one okay. I like my delulu land where Sirius is asexual even if everyone else in this fandom wants him with Remus or Marlene McKinnon. let me have more asexual Sirius in more fics!!! fellow asexual Sirius writers help me out with this plz!!!!

Remus is Straight. I mean, he doesn’t stand up to his school buds when they’re being dicks because he likes being included, he falls in love with a manic pixie dream girl despite her being younger than him by several years, he desperately needs therapy due to PTSD but doesn’t go, he turns into a wolf once a month but is honestly probably so hairy even when it’s not the full moon, he has a baby and immediately forgets child support is a thing because he wants to run off to war with his dead best friends kid…I mean… idk. Don’t get me wrong I love Remus Lupin, my stupid son, but he screams straight to me.

Peter is Gay. I definitely think closeted so he dated girls to keep up with the straight persona. I don’t think this is a widespread thing that people agree with; I just have a personal head canon that he is actually in love with James due to the way he’s described by the adults in canon HP and the way he is depicted in the flashbacks in canon HP. Plus it makes his betrayal more fueled by something other than being a big baby coward. And I mean he still is a big baby coward, but I’d like more emotional depth with my betrayal plots.

[infamouslyclumsy]

i had a thought. spoilers for the last Olympian pjo series <3

LUKE WAS DOOMED. Luke was practically doomed from the moment he was born. Remember the part where may castellan is in camp half blood, she’s talking to Chiron and Hermes is like don’t encourage her about the job offering of being the oracle.

Then Hermes is explaining that if may becomes the oracle she can’t marry or see Hermes anymore. May says she can’t have him forever and reminds him he’s immortal. He tries to protest but may knows it’s true.

Now, we know that hades cursed the oracle because of what Zeus did to Maria di angelo, Hades cursed an innocent little girl because she was the oracle.

So he decided to curse her, rendering the oracle supposedly dead by this except from the last Olympian. “You need an oracle, don’t you? The old one’s been dead for what, twenty years?” May Castellan says and then Chiron responds. “Longer,” Chiron says gravely. And obviously they have no idea that the oracle was ever cursed to begin with, which begs the questions of, what would have happened if the oracle wasn’t cursed? What would May had been like with Luke if she wasn’t cursed and didn’t scare her son? Would Luke still be doomed by his parents?

Then, Hermes is warning May not to become the oracle by telling her it is dangerous. And chrion even responds by saying, “It is,” Chrion warned. “For many years, I have forbidden anyone from trying. We don’t know exactly what’s happened. Humanity seems to have lost the ability to host the oracle.”

Then Chiron is shown saying how May raising Luke as the oracle doesn’t know how it will affect the spirt of the oracle. Chrion says, “Yes, but in all fairness I don’t know how that will affect the spirt of the oracle. A woman already borne a child - as far as I know, this has never been done before. If the spirt does not take-” And then May cuts him off mid sentence, believing that the spirt will take. She then kisses her baby boy, giving him to Hermes, and tells both chrion and Hermes she’ll be right back. They both pace in silence wondering what must be happening.

“A green glow lit the window of the house. The campers stopped playing volleyball and stared up at the attic. A cold wind rushed through the strawberry fields.” Something obviously wrong happened here, maybe the curse was being put into May Castellan’s essence possibly.

“Hermes must’ve felt it, too. He cried, ‘No! NO!’ He shoved the baby into Chrion’s arms and ran for the porch. Before he reached the door, the sunny afternoon was shattered by May Castellan’s terrified scream.” diabolical. rick you are paying for our therapy here.

It’s also understood that Hermes understands May’s ramblings about her son’s fate. “May collapsed in Hermes arms and began to shake. Her eyes opened - glowing green - and she clutched desperately at Hermes’ shoulders.” This is the toll it has on May’s body of being an oracle, even if it was only just for a little while. ‘My son,’ she hissed in a dry voice. ‘Danger. Terrible fate!’ This was her glimpsing into the future, seeing what could be her son’s fate, it is crazy to think about how if the roles were reversed with Percy, this could’ve been his fate too. Hermes responded with, ‘I know, my love,’ Hermes said sadly. ‘Believe me, I know.’

Luke thinks his father doesn’t care about him because he never seems to be around. This could be due to May essentially taking on the job of being an oracle and taking some fraction of the oracle into her essence and soul, leaving her to be cursed. Hermes then goes on to say to Luke how he’d get him some help as he is too old to be on the run now, and says he’ll get a satyr to collect him. Luke further believes his father doesn’t love him because he’s not telling him about his destiny which ultimately was to become evil. “You don’t love me,” Luke says, “I promise I… I do love you. Go to camp. I will see that you get a quest soon. Perhaps you can defend the hydra, or steal the apples of Hesperides. You will get a chance to be a great hero before…” Hermes says. Because of Hermes not being able to tell his son what his fate will be leads to Luke assuming the worst. “Before what?” Luke’s voice was trembling now. “What did my mom see that made her like this? What’s going to happen to me? If you love me, tell me.”

Luke was only a baby when his mom became the oracle. He was about 8 years old when he got scared of his mom’s green eyes coming out, presenting herself as the oracle. “I’m not a god! Just once, you could’ve said something. You could’ve helped when- ” Luke took an unsteady breath, lowering his voice so no one in the kitchen could overhear. “- when she was having one of her fits, shaking me and saying crazy things about my fate. When I used to hide in the closet so she wouldn’t find me with those … those glowing eyes. Did you even care that I was scared? Did you even know when I finally ran away?” I can’t imagine how scary this must’ve been for Luke as a child to see his mom this way. It definitely doesn’t excuse his future actions but it begs another question. I’d Hades were to undo the curse he put on the oracle would may be cured? Would she remember anything about how she raised Luke? Would she become normal again? Would she still have those fits from time to time?

this has been my hypothesis that Luke was doomed from the start. <3

fun fact : I thought of this hypothesis while reading, Percy Jackson and the last Olympian, on chapter 14 Pigs fly. <3 the idea for it just came into my head and I thought instead of suffering alone with this idea I would inflict this upon EVERYONE.

rick you owe us therapy.

<3

[lokisprettygirl]

Brokenhearted (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Modern AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 17 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 18

Summary : Your reaction to Daemon's truth surprises him.

Warning: 18+, Smut, degradation kink, violent thoughts, stalking, Abusive relationship, mention of rape, kidnapping, ptsd, toxic masculinity, gender norms, sexual abuse, Samantha, traumatic distressing content, Daemon is a big time smoker so if it’s something triggering don’t read it, alcohol drinking, mention of past trauma and therapy, cigarette smoking, possessive behaviour, violence, baby needs therapy, baby is trying

You stood in the silence of your surroundings, unable to fully comprehend Samantha's sobs echoing through the room. She was helplessly bound to the bed, her once elegant appearance was now covered in filth. You asked yourself what he was doing to her and why he would do this now, your mind spinning with questions and desperately seeking the answers at the same time.

"Daemon you fucking idiot" Viserys finally summoned the courage to speak, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration and worry.

Daemon had his eyes on you and you had your eyes on him but he couldn't read the look on your face. What were you thinking? Your thoughts and feelings were a mystery to him. Were you feeling disgusted by his behavior? He knew it was a valid option. And why wouldn't you be, he thought.

"Get me out of here Viserys..get me out" Samantha screamed so Viserys walked towards Daemon and glared at him,

"Would you shut her up for love of god?"

Daemon snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Viserys's voice and grabbed the duct tape to wrap it around her mouth over and over again. You just stood there and watched, neither you or Viserys had any clue why Daemon was keeping her here so both of you had that fear in your hearts that he had finally lost his grip on the situation after everything she had put him through.

Viserys noticed the feared look on your face so he helped you walk into the other room and made you sit down on the bed, this was a bit much for you if you were being honest with yourself, you had never experienced anything like this before.

"What's going on Viserys, what is he doing …why??" Your voice choked on your tears as you spoke so he sighed deeply.

"I don't know but I need to deal with it before he finds himself in prison"

Viserys went back to Daemon's room and grabbed him by the arm to drag him out of there so he could find some answers.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you trying to ruin everything again?" Daemon's eyes teared up as his brother's voice reached his ears, he was making a habit of disappointing his older brother but when Viserys asked why he was treating Samantha in such a cruel manner, Daemon's response left him speechless. It was as if Viserys finally understood the reasons behind his actions, but he was still shocked and stunned. He was worried about what would happen if Samantha would escape somehow.

Half an hour later as Daemon entered the other room to see you he was terrified, he didn't want to lose you, he felt a wave of dread wash over him at sight of you. The thought of losing your love was something he couldn't bear to even consider. After experiencing the depth of your affection for him, he didn't believe he could ever live without it.

He walked towards you and got down on his knees in front of you, his eyes were soaked with tears and red with anger, he didn't want you to ever see this, he didn't want to traumatize you so brutally.

"You lied to me" you spoke first, voice breaking from the anxiety.

"I hid the truth" he answered, it didn't really make anything better.

"No you lied to me again and again..you have always been so honest with me and now you have lied"

You were upset, he could tell and it was all valid, he deserved that but it still bothered him, it hurt him deeply that he had made you feel this way. He placed his head down on your thighs and started to sob furiously as his actions weighed upon him..

"Why are you doing this baby?" You asked softly as you held his cheek with your right hand to make him look at you. For a moment he didn't say a word, he allowed you to hold him so tenderly before you'd finally decide to just leave him for your own good.

"I had to" he mumbled meekly

"Why baby? Give me a reason, tell me why you had to do this hmm?" His eyes perked up at the sound of your voice, you didn't seem upset with him anymore, you didn't even get angry, you didn't yell at him or hurt him for lying, you just wanted to know the truth.

"You can hurt me if you're upset, you don't have to hide it darling" he said to you as he placed your hand on his cheek, breaking your heart in millions pieces. He was accustomed to Samantha lashing out at him after every argument, it's been eight years since he had freed himself from her but those wounds remained open.

"I'm upset that you lied to me about something that could ruin your life but I'm not going to hurt you, is that what you expect of me now?" He shook his head as you questioned him, eyes couldn't stop shedding tears.

"I'm sorry..I'm sorry I'm so sorry darling" he wrapped his arms around your waist and clutched onto you like a child as he cried his heart out, pouring out emotions that he hadn't been able to express in a while, it has all been building up since the day of your accident..

"Daemon listen to me" you pulled him away from you and made him look you in the eyes again "I just need to know why now okay? Why did you do this now, all these years she had hurt you more than anyone should ever get hurt but you didn't fight back so why now? What changed? What did she do?" You asked him a bit sternly but he didn't say a word, he just kept staring you in the eyes, his own seemed vacant but at the same time you could see all the suffering in there.

"Because this is just who I am, I'm not a good man my sweet angel" he spoke softly but his voice lacked emotions.

"No that's not true, you know that's not true. I'm not saying that this is right because there are other ways to punish her for what she did to you but I'm also not saying that she didn't deserve this because she does...all I want you to know is that i don't care why you are doing this but you can't lie to me like this dae, even if you murder her someday i'd like to be the first one to know" you said to him, leaving him confused and surprised by your words.

"Why? Why would you want me to involve you in my delinquencies?"

"So i could help you hide her body"

He stood up on his feet as you said that, his hand ran through his hair in frustration. He thought you'd be disgusted by his nature but you wanted to stick by his side instead.

"See this what I'm doing to you .I'm ruining you, I'm destroying you, making you an awful person like me" his voice shook as he spoke so you grabbed his hand and helped yourself up by holding onto him.

"I don't care what you think daemon…baby look at me" you clutched onto his shirt so he looked down at you "I love you and i would never ever give up on you..tell me what it is, why you are doing this now hmm? Did she hurt you again?" Your eyes welled up with fresh tears as you questioned him, the thought of Samantha hurting him all over again made you feel defeated. You weren't there for him, you had allowed him to go back to that monster when you knew he'd have been convinced otherwise if you were persuasive enough.

He shook his head as he wiped his tears, he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned down so he could put his head on your shoulder, then he just cried for what felt like hours and you embraced him as tightly as you could. He finally decided to tell you the truth and you weren't expecting it to be the reason why he was torturing her now.

"She had tried to kill you"

Every hair on your neck stood up as he said that, you didn't want him to repeat his words like a moron for you to put the two and two together. As soon as he said that you knew what he meant, she was the reason behind your accident. Of Course she was, she despised you and she needed you out of the way for good because she knew Daemon wouldn't stop running back to you.

You pulled away from him to look at his face, he wasn't doing this for himself, he was doing this for you, he never fought back for himself, that one time he put his hands on her was because he had lost someone and now he was doing this for you, he was hurting her because she had harmed you.

"Oh Daemon" your voice shook with tears as you spoke his name, he couldn't stand the distance you had created so he immediately wrapped his arms around you again and placed his head between your neck to hug you as tightly but as carefully as he could.

"I'm sorry..I'm sorry darling"

"Shhhhhh no baby I'm sorry..I'm sorry"

He cried, you cried and it felt as if time had stopped moving in that moment for both of you. You were safe in his arms and you, well, whatever anxiety you had been feeling from the past few days was fading slowly as you learned the reason why he has been so discreet with you.

"You'll be okay, I'll make sure we are okay i promise" you mumbled softly as your fingers ran in circles on his back.

"Don't leave me..i need you..all my life I need you here ..by my side"

"Not leaving i promise, I'd never ever leave you again even if you'd ask me to"

It was a promise and you wanted to keep it the rest of your life.

He was the one for you and he was it, he was your only one.

After an hour as you both stepped out of the room, Viserys was pacing back and forth in the living area with a look of deep worry and uncertainty on his face. He seemed to be lost in thought, trying to figure out how he was going to resolve the situation and what steps he needed to take next

"Viserys" you called out his name so he looked at you, you had your fingers linked so protectively with his brother and it made him smile, you really were his ride or die and he couldn't have been happier but his smile faded as he realized the severity of the situation.

"What are we going to do?" You questioned so he sighed and sat down on the couch, you could hear the sound of her muffled screams coming from his bedroom and it made you feel a bit disturbed.

"She needs to confess, that's the only way we can make a case against her.. and we can hope that she'd just not speak of this which I don't see why she won't" Viserys responded and his answer didn't ease your fears. Daemon helped you walk towards the couch and made you sit down so you could relax.

"Can you make tea for us please?" You asked Daemon so he nodded and kissed your forehead before he left for the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight you turned to Viserys.

"I won't let him get punished for this, I know what he's doing is not right or ethical or legal but I--" you groaned as you remembered something "Can I ask you something personal?" You asked him and he was intrigued to say the least so he nodded "Daemon told me that you made her go away after he had put her in the hospital, how did you do that? She doesn't seem the type to just leave so easily"

He sighed as you questioned him and as you heard Viserys's explanation of how he got rid of Samantha eight years ago, you felt your heart break into a million pieces. You realized that Daemon wasn't the only one whose life had been ruined because of her actions - Viserys's life had also been decimated. It was also clear to you now that Viserys's love for his brother was beyond any measure - nobody loved daemon more than him.

"Does he know?" You asked him softly

"Noo.. and I'd appreciate it if you won't tell him that"

You nodded as he said that. After a moment of quiet he spoke again, there was a faint smile on his face

"I was ten when he was born, our father was never around so I became one for him, he was the sweetest boy as a child" he let out a small laughter as if he was reminiscing their childhood "Anytime me or mum looked at him he just had the biggest smile on his face, after she died I'd often wake up to him sleeping on the edge of my bed holding my hand..that was the last time i had seen my brother be himself" his smile faded as he said that and his expressions turned somber

"When he met her, she changed him slowly and so drastically that I couldn't even recognise my brother anymore whenever i looked at him but now when I see him with you..I see that boy that wasn't so afraid of feelings and showing affection to the people he loved" you gulped as he said that, you wished you could have comforted Viserys better than this but you didn't really know how.

"He's healing.. slowly.. but he is moving forward i promise.. someday you'll see the sweet boy you had raised again..i promise" you spoke to him so he smiled.

As you saw Daemon approaching you wiped your tears and acted as if you didn't have the sweet image of a teen daemon sleeping at the edge of the bed holding his brother's hand.

After a much needed discussion all of you decided that it's best to leave Samantha the way she was until there's a plan that would ensure Daemon's safety because you knew you won't survive losing him again.

"I want to see her once" you said to Daemon so he looked at you, worry and confusion was visible on his face but he didn't say a word or questioned your decision. As you entered his room you looked at him and nodded in assurance so he closed the door but he stayed right outside, even bound and helpless he was afraid she'd hurt you in some ways.

If not with her touch then definitely with her words.

You hobbled your way towards her and ripped the duct tape of her mouth because you needed her to talk to you.

"He has gone crazy but you are not ..are you? Let me goooo" she spoke first, you really wished you could have crossed your arms at the moment but you hoped the smirk on your face was enough to infuriate her further.

"He's not crazy, he's hurt ..why do you think I'd help you?' You chuckled as you answered her, was she really this delusional?

"Because you're not like him, you're y/n ..sweet angel y/n that he's so obsessed with. Wouldn't hurt a fly he said..that's true isn't it?" She said with such contempt in her voice,

"That is true..but why would I even want to hurt a fly? They're pretty innocent for most parts..you on the other hand ..you know you're not so innocent..his ways aren't exactly ethical but god knows you deserve this treatment more than anyone," you smiled and she struggled against her chains, she'd have tackled you if she was capable of doing so. You were about to turn around and leave, you couldn't bear the stink in the room anymore but then she started to laugh before she opened her cruel mouth again.

"Awnnn you think you can fix him' y/n?" She asked you so you shrugged in response,

"I'm not trying to fix him, he'd heal on his own, once he realizes that he's loved and cherished he'd move on from this pain" your words left her in giggles again.

"Tch tch tch y/n oh dear y/n..you should have seen him when we first met, he was like a love sick puppy around me, starving for my attention. The moment I had him in my arms i knew I'd never let him go but he was so weak, so so so sensitive, so fucking emotional but I changed that, I made a man out of him"

Your eyes teared up as she gloated about the abuse she had inflicted upon him and how she had ruined that sweet loving man for her own pleasure.

"And his skin looked so soft, so free of scars. Do you enjoy the artwork I made overtime?" She smiled an evil smile and whatever shred of humanity you had left in your heart for such a despicable soul vanished in that moment. She deserved this, even if she hadn't tried to hurt you she deserved this just for what she had done to him.

On the way back home he was too quiet, too distant, that always happened after such vulnerable moments, he'd go all broody as if those emotions he had shared had made him seem fragile, the damage she had caused him wasn't exactly superficial.

Once you reached your apartment he helped you sit down on the couch so you made him sit as well and snuggled into him.

"Talk to me" you said to him so he sighed and squeezed his eyes,

"I don't want you to think of me differently"

"Differently how?"

"Think of me as someone capable of such cruelty…as someone who could hurt you the same way someday"

You chuckled as he said that before you placed your hand on his cheek and made him look at you,

"Maybe you're capable of such cruelty daemon but these hands–" you linked your fingers with his so he brought your hand up to kiss it softly.."these warm big hands that have nurtured and nursed me back to health in the past few weeks..i know they will never hurt me..you can never hurt me"

"You believe in me that much?"

"More than anything"

He leaned into you to peck on your lips, at least he had you by his side of nobody else. Viserys's look of disappointment flashed on his mind.

"I have disappointed him again"

He said to you so you shook your head in response.

"He's not disappointed..he's worried about you baby"

"Mmmmm he's not proud of me either"

If only he knew of the sacrifices Viserys had made for his little brother.

"Can I ask you a question and you won't take it the wrong way?" He asked you so you caressed his cheek with your fingers to assure him "Why did you come to my condo like that?"

"I just had a feeling that something was wrong, i have been feeling that way from past few days…i promise i am not keeping an eye on you..I'd never do that to you dae"

He squeezed his eyes again as you said that before he placed his hands on his face and groaned,

"I know..I just .."

"I know baby..it's okay.. I don't mind you worrying about it"

"If you say so"

He got up eventually and picked you up to take you back to the room, as he put you down on the bed he carefully got on top of you, his thumb brushed over your cheek tenderly

"Am I forgiven?" He asked you so you hummed,

"Mmmm I'm still upset that you lied to me"

"I'm sorry sweetheart, it was for your own good or so i thought"

"I know..I still don't want you to lie to me like that "

"If I'd have told you you would have tried to stop me…fix me"

"Yess but only because I don't want to see you get in trouble..i need you in my life as much as you need me dae"

"Mmmhm? How much" you smiled as he said that,

"So much"

He placed his head between the crook of your neck to place soft little kisses and you took the opportunity to place your capable arm around his neck and working leg around his waist..you really wished you had the assistance of all your limbs today. Fuck Samantha. She had tried to kill you and you didn't think you were able to fully comprehend the situation just yet, all your attention was focused on him for now.

Sometimes you really wished you had met him before she ruined him slowly and deliberately for four long years that he was with her, years where he just wanted to love someone and be loved in return, the thought of this strong brave man that you had in your arms crumbling down and losing his faith in love every day that he spent with her often broke you apart in ways you weren't really able to describe in words. Sometimes you wished you had met him before her so you could have shown him that love didn't have to hurt this bad.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" He asked you softly as he wiped your tears, you hadn't even realized that you were tearing up.

"Just worried about you baby"

"Don't worry I'm not going anywhere..I'll figure it out I promise!"

"You better " you smiled as you booped his nose and the corner of his mouth curved at the gesture, he loved the way you loved him. He loved how much you loved him..

"Since I lied to you..you can punish me however you want" he mumbled softly so you placed your fingers on his chin and made him look at you.

"Daemon I'm not going to do that to you okay?" He smiled as he registered the worry in your voice,

"Silly girl..I'm going to say it again and this time ..look at me as I say it" he smirked mischievously so you raised your brows "I lied to you so you get to punish me however you want.. alright?I'll do whatever you want from me"

He enunciated each and every word seductively and the deep voice immediately warmed every inch of your skin. He wanted you to take charge, to make him submit, he wanted to be vulnerable in bed. It started as a fun sexual thing but neither of you knew how much this was going to help him recover from all the sexual trauma Samantha had inflicted upon him.

This morning when you saw her in his room, you felt as if your whole world would turn upside down again but the incident had only gotten you closer to him, in every possible way.

A storm was coming, you could feel it in your bones, there's no way she'd stay trapped in his condo forever and once she's out you also knew that she'd hurt him again but this time you won't let her take him away from you.

You were going to do whatever it takes to save him from her..

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Taglist (please check your setting if I’m not able to tag you)

@simbaaas-stuff @ajthefujoshi @witchybitch2 @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @thefallenangel21n @kmc1989

@stupidthoughtsinwriting