#that my therapist can point out after listening to me in 10 minutes

[novadreii]

The very people who claim therapy doesn't work because they are too self-aware will, at the very same time that they proclaim this about themselves, be extremely miserable, anxious and lonely with no motivation to do anything they once enjoyed or connect with people anymore. And they see no relationship between their refusal to accept outside help and their deep unhappiness.

[stitchwraith-stingers]

sorry for never shutting up about how people treat hazel but ohh my god shes my fave character atm.... i get to be mad!! she has good enough information that you can play around with headcanons freely

the only moments people wouldve brung up is when dev is in the episode, there was no reason for the episode that showed her tendancy to overthink and be emberassed over small mistakes by wishing a do-over and over again, having to realise that running away from the idea of creating a problem wont help her in the long run JUST so people could go "omg haha dev has a crush on her" i could litterly not tell you what the general concensious on most episodes are because i dont know peoples opinions on them because in general they dont discuss them beyond his scenes

fanart too, ive personally muted the dev and devzel tag and when i look up #hazel wells i want you to guess how many posts i find that arent hidden! spoiler alert its barely any of them, listen im not saying im shocked at the fact The Characters Made As A Duo are drawn as a duo, its whatever and while im not personally a fan in general i really do get the appeal, but you have to admit that at some point it gets really suspicious when the only fanart you can find in one character is only with the more popular one, over 200 fics in the hazel tag on ao3 and theres only 20! without the dev tag! (10 more then when i last checked, crazy! go read fly bird, fly now), and my main problem is is that hazel is shown to be her own person OUTSIDE of their friendship, infact wouldnt you know it shes the protagonist herself! the fact that most aus ive seen are focused on dev/dale/peri is whats most confusing to me, "oh but theyre so interesting to work with"

really! youre telling me you cant think of a fic / au idea on her own? miss "i was going to have a previous godparent who didnt listen to me at all", miss "i am very anxious and i overthink to the point where my desicions", miss "i had an encounter with my evil shadow self when i was a fairy" (shout out to fairy bound au btw, im a big fan), miss "my mom doesnt fully know how to handle children inspite of being a therapist and tells me im handling things mature so i feel like i should be", miss "with the fact that im terrified my friends are making fun of me behind my back, i didnt know how to talk to anyone and a cafetiria made me so overworried and i speak to my rocks could imply the fact that i was outcasted at a young age", miss "my brother who has been my anchor and i has taught me everything i need to know has left me and hes also struggling to adjust to everything and we were insanely close to the point where the reason this whole thing started is because of him", miss "i regularly help my dad hunt a ghost that doesnt exist but it makes him happy", miss "i am litterly friends with the coolest kid in elementary school", miss "my landlords are litterly doomsday preppers and our parents want me to get along with their werido twins", miss "i didnt even hestitate to kill myself if i had to save potatoes for humanity after i pissed off mother nature", miss 'i got called out on projecting my past bonding expiriences on my best friend by some werid demon posessing her body right infront of me' none of that makes you want to think of something about her on her own? not even a spark of an idea? its almost like you guys watched exclusively 6 episodes and watched 5 minutes out of them at most

hazel is very interesting and shows her own struggles, she likes puns and fries and rocks and anime and horror movies (and apparently mushrooms if you count that one scene), she tries to problem solve so that no one is unhappy (patty being alive so winn wasnt upset, trying to get the band and orchestra together, accidently haunting her house and wishing her dads day was extra special, trying to find a dinosaur she spontaniously teleported his own job), she has multiple episodes showing her insecurities and how she tries to hide it so she doesnt look like a bad person, but inspite of it all is a understanding person and a peacemaker and doesnt like arguments, hell shes even such good autism represntation im 99.9% sure it wasnt intentional at all

dont even get me started on the takes ive seen in the finale, listen the finale has alot to be said and it definatly wont be everyones cup of tea (i think them trying to refrence every episode felt so chaotic personally) but regarding people with the ending is still giving me a headache, "she shouldve used her wish on him" that wouldve been so boring and predicable, say what you want on what she actually used it for but i think you guys should realise that for the kid whos regressing back into his bad copium mechanisms should get to face his concequences, 'hes 10 and neglected so thats why he acted like that' and 'she doesnt need to put up with how he treats her and hold his hand and be his personal therapist' can both coexist, people being pissed that she lightheartly agreed that he fucked up when HE admitted it is crazyyy CRAZYYY (also the fact ive seen someone say 'her moms a therapist she shouldve known' ???)

this isnt even touching on "hazels other relationships like her friends and family arent developed enough so thats why ppl dont care that much" while that is a valid critism i have with the show in general i still dont think applys to what im specifically talking about to demonstrate dale has appeared in THREE episodes (four if you want to stretch it), meanwhile hazels parents have appeared more often and im barely seeing them in fanart "but dale has a backstory!" so do those two have a whole episode explaining how they met "b-but dale is interesting as a role as a villain!" the guy is barely a villain [so far atleast], but also is being a therapist and a parascienists already not an interesting enough? are you guys suddenly not able to make as much headcanons expanding apon them as you did with dale? thats the thing that confuses me the most, whats stopping you from giving random information from your head to anyone else?, (i didnt know how to word this point so hopefully this makes sense)

listen im going to say it right now MOST OF THIS IS DEFINATLY UNINTENTIONAL AND NOT EVERYONE IS DOING THIS ON PURPOSE but some of u guys might really need to uncover some biases on why you think the black girl should coddle the rich white boy when he wasnt treating her well at the time, if that makes sense

[smeg-and-the-red]

Smegtober Day 10: Therapy

(prompts by @strange-and-off-putting)

word count: 676

A/N: This one is set during the Dave era.

It had not been easy. In fact, it had been the exact polar opposite of easy, if Lister is being honest. The Cat had not been open to the idea at all. Then, after weeks of cajoling and getting nowhere, it had actually been Rimmer who managed it.

“You get to talk,” he had crowed in that faux-cheery voice, “about yourself for a whole hour. To someone who is contractually obliged to listen. Don't you think that sounds marvellous?”

Lister still couldn't believe that was all it took.

He checks the time again. Forty-two minutes since the appointment began. He'd even walked the Cat to the Medical Unit to make sure he actually went. Lister imagined that his friend was probably the first person in history to walk into a therapist's office with such a bright and eager smile. He was definitely the first to enter one in flared slacks and Cuban heels, in any case.

Rimmer looks up from his novel and catches Lister watching the clock. He rolls his eyes from his bunk, “I don't know why you're so worried. An hour of yapping on about himself uninterrupted? He's probably having the time of his life in there.”

“Maybe,” Lister agrees, but he's not sure.

“Look at it this way, then. At least it's given us an hour of peace. Now I know how parents must feel when they drop their children off at daycare just to be shot of them.”

“Come on, Rimmer. Don't be like that. You know he's not had an easy go of it.”

“And we have?” the hologram retorts.

“It's different! He's different,” Lister says, d’you remember when we first met him? It was just him and that priest for years. He barely even remembers his parents.”

“Lucky him.”

Lister sighs. He knows, despite the other man's comments, that Rimmer does care. Why else would he have helped Lister in convincing the Cat to go?

Rimmer returns to his book. Lister tries to go back to his knitting, but quickly gives up in favour of anxiously checking the time. When the Cat's hour is up, Lister shifts his attention to the door instead, waiting.

He doesn't have to wait long, but when the Cat arrives, Lister is surprised to see that he looks thoroughly unimpressed.

“Well?” Lister asks, “how'd it go?”

The Cat scoffs, “man, you lied to me.” He points an accusatory finger in Rimmer's direction. “You said it'd let me talk without saying anything back, but it kept interrupting me! Asking me all these questions. Then it started crying!”

“You made The Medibot cry?” Lister asks, alarmed, “what did you say to it?”

“Nothing! It was asking me about my worst memory, and I was trying to tell it about the time that Simulant babe saw me wear the same outfit twice, but it kept bugging me and asking about my ‘parents’. I was like ‘huh? Buddy I'm trying to tell you about the worst day of my life here’. Sheesh!”

“It cried because of that?” Rimmer asks incredulously.

“No,” the Cat responds, “It asked me if I ain't got no parents, then who's my family. I said you guys and Eraser-Face.”

“Us?” Rimmer wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah.” The Cat doesn't look happy about it, either.

“You really think of us as your family?” Lister can't help but feel touched.

The Cat shrugs, “I got no one else. Now.” He claps his hands, his usual beaming smile firmly back in place. “All this talking about myself has made me hungry. Time for food.” He saunters out of the room in search of a vending machine.

Rimmer shakes his head once he has left. “Unbelievable.”

“I know,” Lister grins, “can't believe he considers us his family.”

“Don't start, Lister. We are not a family. We're barely even companions.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lister waves off Rimmer's words. “Do you reckon we can get him to go again?”

“What, to therapy?” Rimmer considers it. “I suppose I could go for another hour's quiet same time next week.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

[sugarsfics]

Worst Fear

Summary: Your worst fear comes true public speaking. But no need to worry Eddie is here to save the day. 

Trope: Eddie x introvert!girlfriend 

A/N: These is for all of my girlies you needed an Eddie back in school 

Warnings: Use of Y/N, cussing, being picked on, kissing, Eddie being the best boyfriend, bad family dynamic. 

Word count: 1.2k 

You woke up with a bubbly stomach. Oh no, today you must present in class in front of the students. Your worst fear, public speaking. You got ready while reading your project in the hope of remembering some part of it, so you don’t look at the paper a lot. You always get docked points for not having eye contact, it was hard because every time you looked into someone's eyes you stuttered. God your stuttering problem was the worst it has gotten better over the years but still bad. When you were little, you used to stutter out every other word, now after many speech therapists, you only stutter when you are overly excited about something, say something too fast, or are nervous, in your books this was progress. You eat breakfast quietly as normal your brother was talkative enough for the both of you, he was the star of the family he was the “perfect” one because he plays sports and was outgoing. Your shyness definitely was your family’s fault, they overlooked you and talked over you. You never felt important till you met Eddie. He made you feel like the only girl in the world. When he talked with you, he talked at you he listens, gave feedback, those beautiful brown eyes hangs on to every word. Whenever you got excited and stuttered your family would shut you down and tell you Relax or just talk normal but Eddie watched you with love in his eyes he would let you finish then talk he was everything you could ask for. Beep Beep music to your ears Eddies horn, your brother rolled his eyes because he was in the middle of his story that he told 1000 times, but your family hung on to every word. “Bye” you mumbled your parents just waved you off. This was going to be a long day. 

Eddie knew that it was going to be a bad day for you. You have been stressing out all month, today you had to present a project. You hate public speaking; your shyness gets the best of you and the students of Hawkins high are the worst, they laugh and make fun of every mistake you make. But not today Eddie wasn’t going to let that happen. He saw you come out with fear in your eyes it had already started. “Hi my princess how was your sleep ”he cooed in hopes to keep you out of your head, but you were too far gone. “Hey” you mumbled as you stared off in space lips moving but no words coming out you were reciting your speech. He watched you in worry this was going to be a long day. 

“Why don’t you practice on me” “What” you said confusing “Practice your presentation with me I will say mine then you will say yours” he smirked “You did your speech?” “Well, no but I can tell you what I would have said” “Eddie you need to do your homework you are going to graduate with me and-” he got you your mind moved on. He got out the car mid of your rant and opened your door “Thank you and you need to work on your math too because I know you didn’t do it” “Nope I did not” “Let go then” he planned work you and talking to him and are not worried about the project. It was going great …. for 5 seconds “Hey Eddie, Y/N you ready for the presentation that shit is going to kick my-” Gareth said. Eddie hit Gareth’s arm “Ow what was that for” You froze shit you have you look at the clock 10 minutes. “I been trying to get her mind off of it” “Shit sorry” Eddie looked back at you great back to square one. “Sweetheart no need you worry I will be there” tears filled your eyes “But what if I mess up” you said worriedly “Hey” he wiped your eyes “Don’t think like that you are going to do great ok if you get scared looked at me ok” you nodded and held Eddie until the bell rang, here we go.  

“Alright class today we are going to do something different instead of volunteering to go up I'm going to pick name” every introvert's worst fear. “Ok first is” Your heart is pounding in your chest praying to any god out there please not me please “Y/N L/N you are first” Eddie looked at you in worry, he gave you a reassuring nod and mouth you got this. You slowly stood up and you felt everyone's eyes on you. You gulp “H-Hi” no stop stuttering ....THUNK everyone laughed Eddie prosperously fell out of his chair when you made eye contact with him, he winked. He was taking to embarrassment off you to him “Mr. Munson in your seat please” “Yep got it” he got up and mouth just breath. You took a deep breath. “My- my project is o-on Th-The-” “Sp-sp-SPIT out already” Andy yelled that had the class roaring in laughter suddenly a  spit ball landed on Andy cheek, only you saw Eddie hiding the straw or you thought “Mr. Munson one more thing out of you and you are out of here” he couldn’t leave you so unfortunately, he must protect you in peace. Tear welled your eyes as you finished your presentation “Thank you miss L/N next we have.... Mr. Munson” He got up and tripped on the way up to the front “Ok so my project is on nothing because I didn’t do it” he teased as he look at the teacher “Go sit” “Yep” “Next is......”  

The bell rang and you ran out of class Eddie hot on your heels “Y/N wait please” he caught up to you and brought you into his chest “It’s ok I got you” you mumbled something but he couldn’t hear what you said. “Come on lets go somewhere private” he cover you has he went out the school doors to the bench in the word he put you on his lap “Ok let it out” you continue crying for 5 minutes then you died down “ You better” he soothed “Y-Yea” you hiccuped “Hey it wasn’t that bad yea you stutter at the beginning but after you took a breath a look at me everything was perfect” “But Andy-” “Andy is a fucking jerk out he gets off on making people feel bad the rate you're going soon you will be the boss of him” “How if I can’t even due a speech on a book I love how can I be the boss of anyone” you wailed “Ssh ok ssh” as he brought you into your chest “It's going to take some time to get you out of your shell, it took you a good two weeks to look at me and now look at you look at us we are in love” a smiled spread across your face love. Last week after your date Eddie climbed into your room and told you he loved you and you said it back because you did but was too scared to tell him. “How about we skip, go to Benny's pick you some burgers and milkshakes then my place for some movies” “I would really like that” he takes you off his lap and stands up “Then your chariot awaits my shy girl” you blushed there it is, he kissed you then you sneak into his van. It was a perfect way to end a horrible day with Eddie. 

[klaus-greeves]

THE INTRO || NUMBER EIGHT: CASSIE

On October 1st, 1989, 42 women gave birth to 42 children. This was only unusual in the fact that none of the women were pregnant when the day started.

One woman, located in Las Vegas, Nevada held the “miracle child” in her arms. A child she would call Cassie. A child she would love, no matter what. No matter the circumstance of Cassie’s birth- the mother had always wanted a child. She believed this was an act of God. She’d been living in a picturesque home, with her loving and supportive husband, and putting substance after substance in her body to make things work. This soon became a slippery slope- soon enough one substance was no worse than another substance. The picturesque home turned into sleazy motels. The loving and supportive husband became men of the night. Practically anyone who had spare change to give at the time.

Mom thought her opportunity for a happily ever after was long gone- but here she was. She had her wish. She set up for a few days and nights in her motel room. Between the lack of income and the nights of constant screaming she wondered if she could hack it. If she could truly live a successful life and provide Cassie with the life she needed and deserved. Most of the nights she sat wishing, hoping, and praying for another miracle. Another streak of good luck.

Enter Sir Reginald Hargreaves, eccentric billionaire, explorer, and (alien?). A knock was heard on the eighth door of the Sin City Inn. Cassie became a disgruntled newborn and filled the small room with cries. Mother opened the door with the chain lock still attached- just enough of her eyes peeking out to see who it could possibly be. Her black eyeliner smudged from the sweat and lack of sleep a newborn comes with was just the tip Reginald needed to strike up a deal.

You know how it goes… dear Reggie offers up a lump sum of cash in exchange for Cassie. Mother hesitates.

“But why? She’s my miracle baby. She was placed into my care by a higher being listening to my prayers!” She explained.

“Your price ma’am?” Reginald asks, with complete disregard for the woman’s explanation.

Mother looked to Cassie. She was asleep on the motel bed- no crib because Mother couldn’t afford it. She was crying out for food- she’d only ate once today because again, Mother had gone without in order to make sure Cassie’s needs were met. She looked at Cassie in her diaper made from a portion of curtains, and knew she didn’t have much of an argument if she wanted Cassie’s best interests at heart.

“Can we work out a deal?” Mother turned to Reginald. She was become shifty from the lack of substances in her body. She began contouring her mouth, obsessively twisting her hair around her fingers; she began sweating and fidgeting.

“I’m not sure you’re in the position to be making deals madam. But I am listening.” Reginald said, adjusting the monocle that rested over his left eye.

“Can you tell her who she was and why I did this. Can she possibly come back to me?” Mother bargained as she began chewing her nails looking back and forth from Cassie to Reginald.

Reginald thought for a minute. At this point- there is no reasoning with Mother. As a businessman, you say whatever gets the job done. “Certainly,” he said as he signed his name to the check made out for $6000. “Take care of yourself.” Reginald scooped the child and away they went.

At this point, you can infer the child was raised with the rest of The Umbrella Academy. Cassie was always quiet, but made the best of situations. She grew through adolescence to be very sentimental, kind, understanding, and the glue that held her family together when tensions were high. Through Vanya’s isolation, Ben’s death, and Five’s disappearance- the shoulder to cry on was Cassie. The academy’s built in therapist with sound advice always at the ready was Cassie. The down for anything to not upset anyone was Cassie.

At age 10, much later than her other siblings, Cassie’s powers revealed themselves. Number Three, or how Cassie knew her: Allison, had joined Cassie in the kitchen, where she was working on her Spanish studies.

“Still no powers, Cassie?” Allison asked taking a seat. Suddenly Cassie gasped and had a blank stare. It’s like everything Allison was thinking was laid out like a novel in front of her eyes. Allison was thinking Reginald made a mistake when her adopted Cassie, how Cassie was a nice person, but a failure when it came to showing up and showing out. Cassie was heartbroken, but she’d never let it show. She became teary eyed and just shuddered as Allison stared at her with confusion. “Uhm Cas, what just happened?” Cassie gathered her things abruptly and left the room.

Cassie had ran to Pogo’s office and explained the events before. “My dear Cassandra- I think you’ve discovered your powers. We must tell your father at once.” Pogo took Cassie to Reginald’s study where he sat at his desk, in his chair, documenting notes about the training and tribulations with the others that day. “Mr. Hargreeves, you’ll be delighted to know that Miss Cassandra has shown the power of extra sensory perception.”

Reginald looked up from his notes at Cassie, then immediately went back to note taking. “Excellent Number Eight, we will see you bright and early for trials starting promptly at 7 am tomorrow! Rest now.”

Pogo turned to Cassie with a sincere smile- then handed her off to Grace to prepare for bed. “But I don’t understand- I only did it once. How will I know how to do it? What if I can’t do it again?” Cassie asked.

“Now now, do not worry yourself with such troubles! Your father is an excellent teacher. You’ll get the hang of it in no time!” Grace reassured, as she sent Cassie off to her room.

Cassie sat on the bed- her head began pounding from seeing all of Allison’s thoughts. Being so unprepared for the amount of letters, words, and sentences at one time in her brain and trying to make sense of them all. She clutched her temples, hoping the searing pain would not be a reoccurrence.

“Why Number Eight!” A mock British accent came from the doorway. “You’ve done it dear girl, you’ve got a much better power than that measly Number Four!” Klaus laughed. He returned to his normal accent. “Quick I’m thinking of a number between 1 and 10- what is it?”

Cassie stifled a laugh. “Uhm…” she stared at him for a moment. But no spattering of words and letters appeared. She didn’t know how to turn her power on. “…let’s go with…7?” She said with zero confidence.

“Damn, lucky guess. Okay let’s up the stakes and see if you’re just on a hot streak. I’m thinking of a number between 1 and 1 million,” he said leaning in the doorway.

“Okay Klaus and I want to ask Freddie Mercury a question. You conjure him and I’ll tell you your number,” she joked.

“Well played Number Eight, I will see you at trials in the morning,” he said saluting her and heading off to his room.

Cassie grew into her powers. She knew how to turn it on and how to turn it off. Hint: these powers come in handy when at job interviews, but not when asking someone if an outfit looks good or not. At the age of 20, she left the Academy in the trickle down effect that all siblings parted ways, except for Luther. No matter how desperately she tried to get him to part ways with Reginald’s manipulation, she could read his thoughts. The bastard still held Reginald in the highest of regards and thought the world of him. She could no longer handle being the glue. She had to get out. And so she did.

She found success in becoming a so called fortune teller. A prophet. Read people’s minds of their wants, needs, and desires and repeat it back to them. She’d just finished up with a client and turned the knob on the television. That’s when she saw the headline on a blue background. “REGINALD HARGREEVES DEAD”. She fell into a chair and became overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness and shock- but immediately was met with a sense of relief. Her first tonight: Luther is finally free. Her second thought: we are finally free. Her third thought: what do you even wear to a billionaires funeral?

[hismercytomyjustice]

Just some more stuff on Pure O (OCD) in general, or at least my personal experience with it. Your mileage may vary!

Yes, Pure O is a bit of a misnomer. You still have compulsions, they’re just internal instead of external. Doing something like washing your hands 10x in a row is a lot easier for others to spot than getting stuck ruminating on the same thought over and over for 10 minutes straight.

Pure O is hard to catch because it masquerades as anxiety, though I’ve actually been diagnosed with it by 3 separate therapists at this point. The first time was when I was in college and was having more of the textbook intrusive thoughts. 2nd was after a severe mental breakdown back in 2022.

2022 was when I started detailing my thought spirals to my therapist at the time who told me that she was just exhausted listening to them and could only imagine how I felt having them. She didn’t say that in a mean way, for the record. She was moreso affirming what a negative experience this was having on my life and that this sort of thing was 100% not normal brain behavior.

Getting back on antidepressants has helped a lot. Antidepressants are commonly prescribed, in addition to therapy. Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) therapy and Inference-based Cognitive Behavior Therapy (I-CBT) are the common go-tos.

My current therapist specializes in OCD and refers to it as the doubting disease. This article does a good job of explaining why.

Personally, a lot of my OCD results in “what if” thought spirals for which there’s no real answer. The main thing I’ve been learning is how to disrupt these thought spirals rather than get sucked into them like a whirlpool. A lot of that comes down to realizing I’m spiraling and then being able to take a step back and go “oh, this is my OCD, not me.” My go to phrase is “thank you brain, but that’s not helpful.” There are other visualization exercises and those type of things you can do too. The important thing is to acknowledge the thought and then move on. Don’t get stuck in it but also don’t try to suppress it.

I did a loooot of suppression before I learned that actually made things worse lol. But it made sense at the time.

Just like: Bad/distressing thought? If I think about it, it’s gonna make me upset, so I won’t think about it. I’ll just shove it deep down and then problem solved, right?

Right..?

Another important thing to keep in mind is that there aren’t “good” or “bad” thoughts when it comes to OCD. You need to acknowledge the distressing thought without judgment and recognize it’s the result of your OCD and not an indicator of who you are as a person, what your failures are, etc. Assigning a “bad thought” label just tends to increase your anxiety and aversion.

Some of my OCD thought spirals are more distressing than others. Some are even a little silly in retrospect.

Like, for example, I was thinking about signing up for piano lessons. But what if I didn’t like it? What if I didn’t practice enough and I wasted the teacher’s time? They provide lessons in return for payment. What if they see I signed up and they’re like “sweet, that’s another $x I can expect every week and can now budget for” but then I quit and now they’re out that money? Will they hate me? Is that fair for me to do to someone? What if I take the place of an actual dedicated student who won’t leave them in the lurch like that? And I stressed about the opposite too. What if I start taking classes and I’m devoted to it and I can actually help make this hypothetical person’s life easier by paying them to teach me?

The thought of “it’d be cool to learn piano” quickly morphed into “I’m ruining a hypothetical person’s life no matter what I do.”

I was agonizing about this for days. And, frankly, this was like a 3/10 on my personal OCD scale. It was like having a pot of soup on the back burner that I was having to remember to stir periodically, but for days with no end in sight.

I am aware of how my OCD works at this point, but I still didn’t realize this was my OCD until I finally opened up to my husband about it. And I felt I needed to temper my dilemma with “this is probably going to sound silly, but…”

What’s that sound? Oh, that’s just my therapist screaming in the distance, “THAT’S NOT SELF-COMPASSION, HISMERCY!” Another tool therapy has given me to help me with my excessive self-negativity.

My husband is, thankfully, a very grounded person and is well aware of my OCD struggles. His response? “Just sign up for piano lessons.”

This further reassured me that this was an OCD thought spiral and also helped me to get out of it. Like he threw me a rope when I was stuck in quicksand.

OCD is fucking EXHAUSTING. It takes up so much of your brain power when you get caught up in it and that diminishes it for other brain power related things. It’s like constantly being down a spell slot or more depending on how severe it is. And it can be so sneaky too, like the situation above. It took me literal days to realize that something was off about my thought process.

And you never know what could trigger it. I mean, some triggers you can start to be on the lookout for, but why would I think I was wading into quicksand when all I was thinking about was how cool it’d be to learn piano?

You also can’t cure OCD, but you can sort of get it into remission. Periods of high stress are likely to exacerbate it, so a lot of dealing with OCD is just taking preventative measures like the whole “eat right, cut back on caffeine, get enough sleep, exercise, blah blah blah” thing.

I take some comfort in the fact my 2022 mental breakdown was more than likely the result of pandemic stress/trauma and an extremely demanding personal situation I was also in at the time and had been for almost a year at that point. I was worn so thin and then all it took was the wrong trigger at the wrong time and I went to pieces.

Thank god I already had an established therapist at that point. I was able to immediately reach out to her for help. I started seeing her once a week instead of once a month and I got back on antidepressants.

Tbh if I hadn’t been off the antidepressants, it might not have been as severe of a mental breakdown as it was, but I’d been taking antidepressants for depression, not anxiety. I had no idea they also helped with anxiety because I’d never taken anything specifically for my anxiety before.

That’s not to say it wouldn’t have still happened on the antidepressants, but it probably would’ve helped me weather the storm a little better if I’d been on them. And every person and their experience is different too, of course.

But this is what I mean when I say I have OCD/Pure O.

If you or a loved one are experiencing…lol.

But seriously, if you read this and it resonates with you, it might be worth trying to get some help from a trusted family member/friend, a therapist, a doctor, etc. I know that’s easier said than done in a lot of cases, but even just finding out there’s a word for what you’re going through can help sometimes, which is why I wanted to share my personal experience with OCD.

You also don’t have to have a therapist to get medication for anxiety/depression, at least where I am in the US. My primary care doctors have been the ones who have always prescribed antidepressants for me in the past. They do their own screenings and it’s not the same as getting straight up therapy, but they can help too.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. Sometimes I can catch an OCD spiral by thinking “Would I say this to someone else if they came to me with the same concern?” Like with the piano example, my gut reaction is “Of course not, why would they worry about something like that? None of that makes any sense. They should give it a try!”

Idk why it’s so easy to be rational for others but not for myself. This can also work for negative self talk. “Would I say this to a friend? A family member? A stranger? No, because it’s an awful, untrue, and insensitive thing to say.”

Brains are so weird. 🤷

[moondharse]

This is a desperate cry for help.

All my family members start to say more and more insane nazi shit and I have noone and nothing bc of severe untreated burnout and disability and being ignored by everyone who's job it would be to help me for ~a decade now. Like child protective services (when I was still a minor), government offices, doctors of all flavors, ect.

I can't even take care of my basic needs, let alone get a job or anything and I am getting inceasingly scared with how the world is developing right now and how my family, which is rotten to the core, gets easily influenced by that.

On top of knowing that they would never stand up for me at all (experience) and as a trans person thats super fucking scary to have no protection and noone to even give you a hug after the world hurts you again.

And still being stuck here. 10 fucking years after my first attempt to communicate, as a ~11 yo that my life is a living nightmare. Unfortunatly I am working class so my health and wellbeing was not of any concert to any of these therapists, unlike my ability to continue to do pointless tasks in a classroom.

What I am trying to say is; I want to live. Not to suffer. And I am not seeing any hope of ever getting anywhere anymore. I don't know what to do anymore. I tried everything exept suicide. Every fucking thing. But if theres noone that cares about you, theres nothing you can do I guess.

The saddest thing is, all I really need is a person who unconditionally cares for me and acts as a crutch for me to move forward until I can do it on my own. And a safetynet to catch me when I'm cut down.

(My parents might as well be rocks, same amount of emotional involvement in my raising/life. Actually, the rocks would listen and not act annoyed af untill I leave them alone or straight up snap at me for commiting the crime of starting a conversation with them.)

And I know that will never happen because noone is interested in teaching someone love who never experienced it and thus doesn't know it.

And in case you didn't know, you can die fron loneliness/lack of love and it is a slow and painfull process. The hurt heart is not a metaphor. It physically hurts. The loneliness. I don't know what to do. All I want is to not suffer unnessesarily and the world just keeps kicking me while I'm already down. Every attempt to get up is stomped down so fucking fast. 'You're too young & living with family so you can't get government money' oh, but my family is abusive and I need to get out 'get a job and get your own place' but I literally physically cant? 'how about you institutionalise yourself?' No, I just need support! 'Thats what your family is for' but they don't. Not even one minute of support in 21 years.

Like, at what point am I allowed a murder.

I cannot break this cycle. And by the looks of it, noone will ever help me.

My intention with this was to ask for help yet again, but I already asked all the questions 100 times. Theres no question left that wasn't ignored. But this is the first time that I am bringing my shit to the internet. Idk. Won't change anything anyways but that way I also don't need to pretend anymore like it was drilled into me by my mother. 'We are a normal family.' This is totally not an abuse tactic mindlesly passed down through generational trauma. Or tactic to hide abuse or whatever. Im tired. And sad. And I'm not hopeless, because I know theres potential for good in this world. It's just not destined to find me.

Don't interact with this if: You only wanna say some hopecore shit and don't do shit to actually help people. I cannot hear it anymore.

[leaving-anorexia-behind]

17/10/24

Part 2

After not managing afternoon snack, I quickly put my converses on, the things I had laid out and put my letters where staff would see me but not necessarily notice if not looking properly. Everything was set up. Not just the matter of getting off a locked ward. So I went to the lounge and out of sight, when 2 minutes later, a patient came out the lift, I watched her walk away and I quickly nipped into the lift and went down.

I walked into the garden initially but there would have been no way I could climb it without being super obvious. So, went back to the main part when a therapist and patient were walking through. I stayed calm and walked with purpose through, thanking them on my way. The therapist walked back with me and went out the side door so I went out the other way via reception. I walked briskly down the steps round the corn and ran as fast as I could and into the woods, nearly skidding down the hill so quickly but managing to catch myself on a tree.

After 10 minutes of waiting, I sneaked over a fence and onto the road I needed for the station. I had planned to take a train, go to the Tesco nearby for vodka and pepsi max and then walk to local wooded park and do what I need. Only, as I walked down the road and the same therapist came round the corner called out to me, I froze, we spoke for a minute, but the look of sheer concern and fear written on her face kicked in the guilt so, I said sorry and ran around her. The next thing I heard was her shouting my consultants name which really confused me, just after I had got to the other side of the road and went into a sprint.

Only what I didn't see happening was my legs giving out completely and I skidded across the pavement. I was mortified, especially having once being a pretty decent runner! My consultant was by my side in a flash, quickly followed by the therapist running behind me where they managed to keep me on the floor, but I didn't make it easy for them! A few minutes later, the cavalry arrived, the ward manager, deputy, and 3 hca came. The ward manager was took my arm first, followed by the deputy where I shoved into the van and then dragged back on the ward, as I started to break down, the reality I was going to die that day sinking in.

Absolutely fucking mortifying really.

The deputy ward manager started saying a load of crap which wasn't true. How she knew I'd run away, how it was because of the weight gain etc. I was like are you fucking serious?! I had seen the weight gain, not liked it, but the reality was, I believed I soon wouldn't be around anyway, and had been planning it all for almost a month! She really has no idea, but the most frustrating part is she thinks she does and uses her power to make others believe the same.

As soon as the we were back the ward manager put me on level 4 arms reach obs again, but after a difficult dinner we sat and talked. I opened up and I explained about the house-share and how I didn't want to go back there, that the only place I ever felt safe in was my own flat and had been so let down by the previous ED residential placement. She told me she wouldn't give up, that she'd find a way to work with me. I asked if I'd be sent to psych (almost hoping they would so I could lose the weight) but she said no, and they could work with suicidal patients. Pity. As hard as some of her decisions can be, I really respect her and wish she could come to my ward rounds instead of the deputy who has no clue. The ward manager knows me so well, listens but also understands, especially from a ptsd point of view.

She also spoke to my Dad who was calm and managed to get his viewpoint across along with his concerns. Between us, the ward manager understood and is going to try and fight for me to have my own flat, she said she would contact everyone involved in my care; my case managers, psychiatrist and care coordinator. I'm scared to know of their reaction. I just hope they don't think I'm doing this to get my own way, for attention or for some other bullshit reason.

[jodilinbio]

What I hated most about Valleyhead was its overly structured and hectic routine and the fact that you had no space or privacy. It was worse than camp! They ran us ragged from 7:00 AM till 10:00 PM with school, group discussions, and outdoor activities. I didn’t mind going on walks, but the sports were a total bore. I only liked gymnastics and skating, and believe me, they didn’t have that at Valleyhead! We did do a little cross-country skiing, though, and this was kind of fun.

Everything was very controlled and formal. We couldn’t just go into the dining room, eat our meals, and then get up and go when we were done. Instead, we had to wait outside the dining room—often for up to fifteen minutes at a time—before we could sit down. Then we’d have to wait for a while for the food to be served. Then, after eating, we’d have to sit there some more for what felt like an eternity before we could be excused.

Besides Donna, her sister Margaret and a staffer named Barbara were definitely the worst when it came to meanness and playing favorites.

During my time at Valleyhead, I went from bone-thin to rather overweight due to the meds they were giving me. These drugs also caused me to stop having periods for a few years. Donovan would often fat-shame me (even though I was barely 20 pounds overweight), saying I had “enough fat to keep me warm throughout the winters.” Of course, if I’d dared to remind her that she wasn’t exactly a supermodel herself, I’d have gotten written up for it. Before I gained the weight, it was Mosca who did the picking on me.

Donna wasn’t a problem for me until April of 1983 when I jumped out the window of the room I was in at the time down in “the wing,” as it was called. At that point, I had just one other roommate but she wasn’t in the room at the time.

I had been on restriction, though I can only guess why—maybe for mouthing off to someone or for having something I wasn’t supposed to have.

There was a deaf girl named Brenda who snitched on me after my mother smuggled in all kinds of goodies for me one day (my mother was always generous when it came to material things). I think it was mostly money this time around—something like $10. That was a lot in those days. On weekends, if you weren’t on restriction, you could walk up to the local convenience store for candy and cigarettes. I was walking back with Brenda one day, and she noticed I had a lot of stuff. She promised not to tell, but soon after, Donna raided my room and confiscated my precious goodies.

This might have been why I was on restriction at the time. I was only on it once or twice. But this time, I wasn’t just on restriction—I was also on suicide watch. When you’re on suicide watch, you’re not supposed to be allowed to go anywhere alone. I guess Debbie, my therapist, let it slip her mind because she let me walk back to my room alone one day after our session. Given that it was the staff against the students, I doubt she was reprimanded in any way for this oversight.

I walked back to my room in a sort of trance after leaving Debbie and another one of our deep and dark discussions. Once there, I walked up to the window and looked down below. Students were passing by on their way to lunch. A sense of panic suddenly overwhelmed me. I felt so trapped and alone, so utterly depressed and helpless. I sat down and began to listen to music, but it didn’t soothe my nerves. I turned the music off, knowing I was about to do something stupid, though it felt as if I were powerless to stop myself. It didn’t matter, though—there was no one to cry out to for help who would care and not punish me for reaching out. I was just another face in a sea of unwanted outcasts.

I hopped up onto the dresser in front of the window, threw the window open, and yanked the screen out. The girls were now inside the dining room as I sat crouched on the windowsill at the empty ground below. All I saw was an overhang about six feet below me and the dirt ground with a little bit of gravel about ten feet below that.

I tumbled forward, bounced off the overhang, and hit the ground with a tremendous thud. Although the fall lasted only seconds, it felt like I was in the air for minutes. I had just enough time to realize that what was done was done—there was no turning back. It was too late. Maybe I’d be dead, maybe paralyzed, or maybe I’d just break a leg. I wasn’t really thinking about the possible consequences—I just wanted out!

When I hit the ground, it felt like I had slammed into it at 80 MPH. The wind was knocked out of me for several seconds, and I was unable to breathe. I knew right away that my upper right arm was broken. One look at the thing, coupled with the pain, told me that much. I had landed on my side, causing my arm to buckle under the weight of my body. My beaded necklace fell off and landed a few feet in front of me. One of my brown loafers fell off, too.

Reflexively, I screamed as soon as I could breathe again. Up above, the pale yellow curtain hung outside the window, slowly blowing in the breeze.

Donovan came running around the corner, then quickly backtracked into the building to fetch the nurse when she saw me. She must’ve been incredibly shocked to see me lying there because, a few months earlier, she had caught me about to jump out of a different window.

“If you really wanted to go, you’d have gone,” she had told me.

Well, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go from that other window, which was a straight drop to the ground. It was probably bouncing off the overhang that saved me from worse injury by breaking my fall and slowing it down a bit. This was room number thirteen, by the way, that I jumped out of.

When the nurse came running out, she ordered me to stay still and asked me what my name was, who the president was, and things like that. When the paramedics arrived, they strapped me to a board in a way that prevented me from moving my head. My broken arm was draped over my stomach, which I had to hold with my other hand to keep it from sliding off.

As soon as I got to the hospital, X-rays were taken. I had broken my humerus right in half.

I was put in a room with one other person, but I don’t remember how many days I stayed there—only a few, I think.

The day after I was admitted, they operated on my arm by scrunching the bones back together using a fluoroscope. Then they put a cast on and secured it to my body so I couldn’t move it from the shoulder, and believe me, I couldn’t move it if I wanted to! All I could move were my wrist, hand, and fingers.

My parents came to visit me, but they only made me feel worse. My father was okay, actually. The problem was my mother, as usual, saying things meant to be sarcastic like, “Do it again. Maybe next time you’ll succeed.”

Definitely not the right thing to say! I didn’t expect a pat on the back for what I’d done, but that was a rather cold and insensitive comment. I tried to explain to her that I didn’t do it to kill myself or with any set outcome in mind.

“No, you just wanted attention,” she accused.

“Pretty risky way to get attention, don’t you think?” I asked her, especially since the jagged ends of the broken bones could’ve easily punctured my aorta.

The truth was that I did it because I suddenly felt overwhelmed with feelings of being trapped with nothing but a bunch of control freaks who couldn’t care less about me. I panicked, not thinking about the consequences. I simply did what I did. Period.

But no one was willing to hear what they didn’t want to hear or believe. It wasn’t just stupidity I was dealing with from my mother and most of Valleyhead’s staff—it was sheer ignorance and stubbornness. Most of the staff and students handled the situation very poorly. Some of them smothered me when I returned while others turned against me as if it was somehow personal or I’d harmed others. They wouldn’t even let any of the other students visit me in the hospital during a time when my need for support was so great because I had “done it to myself.” Instead of helping to build up my will to live, they only tore it down further, making me rather sorry I didn’t succeed. But I wasn’t about to take my mother’s lovely advice and try again, risking an even worse outcome.

So there I was, returning to Valleyhead more depressed than I could ever imagine, shunned by those who were supposed to care about me and placed under very strict and supervised restriction. I couldn’t even sleep upstairs in my room or be alone for a second. I had to sleep downstairs and be accompanied by a staff member wherever I went. Donna took it upon herself to extend my restriction because of a lighter she found on me—one my mom had slipped in with my belongings at the hospital, unbeknownst to me. It felt like a kick when I was already down.

It hurt me deeply that my mother would even think of sending me back to a place that made me feel so miserable after what I’d done.

I could only bathe my lower body. My hair had to be washed in the sink, and of course, someone had to do it for me.

I was required to do my schoolwork with my left hand.

I could tell when the bones in my arm had fused together because I could then wiggle my arm by the shoulder inside the cast. The first time the doctor changed the cast, it was still broken. He rested my elbow on my knee, and after I commented that I couldn’t move it, he wiggled the bones, showing me that it was still broken.

The second time, he was surprised that it was finally healing. He had thought he might have to go inside and pin the bones together. When the cast came off some two or three months later, my arm was weak but quickly grew stronger. At first, I couldn’t even raise my hand to eye level.

Once my arm healed, I realized I had no choice but to be their little puppet and do what they wanted if I was to make my time there more bearable and leave with some sanity left. Besides, I was nearing adulthood and thought I would have the freedom to do what I wanted with my life once out of there.

I worked my way up to the highest level, and during my last summer there, I had a vocational training job with about a dozen other students at a local High School, earning about $55 a week. That money was kept in our accounts and not given to us directly. It was only given for buying things like clothes, and I’m sure the owners pocketed whatever was left over. The courses included computers, horticulture, landscaping, and similar subjects. Except for the computer classes, it was pretty boring.

Before the vocational training program, I was set up to teach a small sign language class in the main house of the school.

During my last summer, around the time I worked at the high school, I was moved from the main house to the small house next to it. I liked it better there because there were fewer people. On my side of the house, there were only a few rooms. I could smoke anytime I wanted and often had a room to myself.

Besides the three rooms, there was a kitchen and a deck in back.

I’m not sure if it was before or after I left the main house, but a young woman named Mary who I later learned was a lesbian started working there. She was with another woman who worked there and became the first person I developed a major crush on.

With Debbie married and gone, Lisa, another lesbian (there seemed to be several there), became my new therapist.

Lisa and the math teacher, Michelle, were the only two people in the whole place who seemed to care about me. Mary was nice during the time I was there, but I was led on by her afterward. I’ll get to that part later.

Lisa cried a bit when I left. After I left, I traveled by bus to visit Michelle a few times. She took in Denise after graduation, and I later learned that she would have taken me in as well had I needed a place to go. Michelle quit to work at another school not long after I left because she was fed up with the way the kids at Valleyhead were treated.

I also visited Denise after she moved into a rooming house and tried to persuade her to come to Springfield with me and be my roommate, but she wasn’t interested.

Although I graduated in June, I didn’t leave Valleyhead until August. I’m not sure why this was—perhaps because of the vocational training program that summer.

I regret how I handled my so-called graduation award. After performing a song I wrote with my guitar for accompaniment, I received a music book as a graduation present from the owners. While that was sweet, the “best behavior improvement” award felt degrading. I almost regretted not tearing it up right there at the podium.

I felt completely cheated by my graduation experience. Like most kids, I had envisioned a traditional ceremony with a cap and gown, but I didn’t get to have that. Not attending a real prom wasn’t a loss to me, though. We were occasionally taken to all-boys schools for dances, which were boring as hell. It seemed like such a waste of time, especially since, even if I had wanted a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have been able to get very far with anyone.

Towards the end of my time at Valleyhead, my mother dealt me yet another nasty blow by suddenly informing me that I wasn’t welcome back in her house. This was when I first started to really show signs of having a sixth sense.

One night, as I lay in bed, I was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling that I wouldn’t be going home in August as planned. Unable to sleep, I went downstairs and found Mary trying to get the troublemakers to bed. Once she did, I expressed my concerns to her.

“It’s the first I’ve heard about it,” she told me. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. It’s kind of like having a plane ticket in your hand but not being able to get on the plane just yet. It’s just normal anxieties you have, that’s all.”

But it wasn’t, as it turned out. My mother simply didn’t want me back. So, I was resigned to living at Valleyhead for an indefinite period because I didn’t yet know that Michelle would have taken me in. However, just before my graduation, during a visit home, my mother woke me up at 2:00 in the morning to tell me she had had a change of heart and I was free to come home.

How kind of her, right? And I didn’t even receive a single apology for all the stress and depression she put me through before deciding I was worthy of returning to her house. Instead, I was handed a list of dos and don’ts.

A few years later, my mother admitted that sending me to Brattleboro was a mistake, but she never acknowledged that Valleyhead was an even bigger mistake. I honestly don’t think they were aware that I was brought to Northampton State Hospital and were likely horrified when they learned of it.

So, home I went, though things would be different this time around.

Two years later, a student set Valleyhead on fire. The students, who were housed in a church until the school could be rebuilt, were no longer accepted if they had previously played with fire or attempted suicide.

In the early 2000s, the FBI shut down Valleyhead for good.

[automatismoateo]

Hate on trans people via /r/atheism

Hate on trans people For context I live in a conservative Islamic country, but non muslims here have large numbers. I was at work and a few colleagues invited me to sit with them for lunch. I'm usually a loner and after today, I will stand by it. At first it was fun banter and work talk. Then one guy turned the conversation around to how bad it is that you "can't tell who's a woman anymore" and proceeded to complain about pronouns for a good few minutes. He's British so not someone who came from a dump such as here. Others jumped in about how they had colleagues take down the pride flags on their company profiles because even "supporting them is not ok" and how people probably "don't understand what the pride flag symbolizes". Now I'm a raging bisexual but as it is illegal here I'm not out. I just listened to a group of people from various countries and religious backgrounds hate on my community while repeating propaganda claiming to know it all. I kept my cool (chef's kiss to my therapist, as before situations like these affected me a lot). But my response was simply that I don't mind people expressing themselves. They tried to push back, especially the British guy, and I simply said if you're confused about someone's gender you can simply ask, it's not that hard. Mind you he's my superior. He then proceeded to tell me that it's apparently shocking when he says he's married to a woman now. I simply pointed out that even in Birmingham it wouldn't be shocking in the least, nothing and nowhere is so radicalized and that people are simply living their lives without hurting anyone else. They changed the subject soon after. But I kept thinking that only religions can justify such a horrible outlook and the dehumanizing of a large group of people over propaganda. Incidents like these make me think that maybe I shouldn't come out to people but hiding who I am was never my style. Funny how they hate people they can't even identify. Submitted September 02, 2024 at 10:59AM by MerryA17 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/7gklcm8)

[kookiemonster123]

What are the odds? Enhypen FF

As crazy as it might seem, everyone has their own problems no matter where they come from, how much money their families have, or how they are viewed by the rest of the world. I Y/N L/N should know better than anyone; I am what people call the “ Therapist” friend. Being that friend has some benefits because you can listen to your friends and help them through the hard times but at the same time, you learn many horrible things about that person's life and the people that have caused those horrible things. Also, no one listens to your problem as that friend. Anyways, I have come to realize this because of the friends that I have made in the past year at the new school I went to; well more like the new school, and the country I ran to with my family. I guess I should reintroduce myself and get on with the story.

Hello, my name is Y/N L/N, I am 17 years old, and I have two siblings, I am the youngest and I have made it where my family had no choice but to move to South Korea to live with my Aunt. You might be wondering how I made that happen but we will get into that a little bit later. As of now let’s start with my first day of school.

“  Y/N M/N L/N IF YOU DO NOT GET YOUR ASS UP RIGHT NOW I WILL COME UP THERE AND BEAT YOUR ASS” My dad yelled. I let out a sigh and got up out of bed. I made my way to my shared bathroom with my siblings and did my daily morning routine. Someone banged on the door. “ That better be you in there Y/N,” My Dad said. “ It is,” I replied. There was no response; I just heard footsteps walk away from the door. I just shook my head and finished up in the bathroom and made my way back to my room. I walked into my room and went straight to my closet to get my school uniform. “ One thing I am going to miss about the States is not having to wear a uniform,” I said to myself. Oh just so everyone knows my family and I all know how to speak Korean. We actually lived here when I was 2-6 years old and then we moved back to the States and lived there until now. I finished getting ready and walked downstairs just to see my Aunt and my Dad in the dining room. “ Well well look who finally decided to get up.” My Dad said. My Aunt just shook her head and said “ Y/N-ah have some breakfast before you leave.” I smiled at her. “ Thank you but eating breakfast makes me feel sick. Sorry, Auntie.” I said. She just nodded her head. I grabbed my backpack and said, “ I am leaving now.” No one answered me so I just walked out the door and started walking towards the bus stop. I put my headphones in as I started walking and start listening to Melanie Martinez. I get to the bus stop and sit down while waiting for the bus. Other people and students show up and some give me weird looks and whisper to their friends while pointing at me. After 10 minutes of waiting the bus arrives and I get on and use my bus card. I then find a seat and sit down. I enjoyed the view as the bus made its way to my school. The bus finally arrives at the stop at my school; I get off and make my way inside. It seemed like a lot of students were surprised and confused on why a foreigner was at their school. I was able to find my way to the principal's office and knocked on the door. “ Come in,” I heard. I opened the door and saw a middle-aged man in a chair behind a desk and then a male student standing beside his desk. The principal stood up; I walked over to him and bowed. “ Ahh, you must be the new transfer student.” He said in English and shook my hand. I smiled a little and said, “ Sir if you don’t feel comfortable talking in English, you can speak in Korean.” Both of them seemed surprised that I could speak Korean. “ Ahh good to know……” The principal paused. “ Oh my apologies, I am Principal Ok Taec-yeon and I am so happy that you are here at our school. Here is your class schedule and this young man right here will show you around” He added while he handed me a piece of paper and pointed at the student next to him. “ Thank you so much, sir.” I said with a smile and bowed. The student next to him walked over to me and bowed while introducing himself “ Hello I am Cha Eun-woo, I am the class president of our class.” I was kinda surprised that a handsome man like him was a class president. I then bowed and also introduced myself “ Hello my name is Y/N L/N.” Eun-woo just nodded his head. “ Follow me” He said and then we both bowed to the principal and left. 

[trinitycove]

I wanted to add on some tips I learned recently.

My last appointment with a Telus Health therapist was focused on communication in my relationship, particularly during arguments. My therapist, Iris, gave me three helpful tips:

Communicate that you are "activated." This is another way to describe having heightened emotions. Use a scale of 1-10 or 1-5 to describe how activated you are. I also told her I usually need space at times like this to collect myself, so she suggested I also communicate that I need space for x amount of time (5 minute, 1 hour, 1 day) then take the space to decompress. Return to the conversation after.

Coregulate with your partner. This is something you do together as a couple to lower stress levels and get you both in a better headspace to communicate. E.g. take a longer hug than usual, kiss for longer than usual, breathe deeply together while lying next to one another, put on a silly song and have a 5 minute dance party (Iris' suggested method.) My bf and I tend to point out something silly or cute the cat is doing or send pics of her to each other if we are in different rooms. We end up cheering ourselves up if it's not a serious/important argument and move on. If the argument is more serious this will help us get back to talking about the topic at hand.

Have two separate conversations: first talk about both of your feelings and later, maybe even the next day, have a conversation to problem-solve. Iris told me that many times there is one person in a relationship who is more of a problem solver who will kind of overlook the feelings and push to problem-solve (I'm that person in my relationship.) She told me that by seperating them into two different conversations it ensures everyone's feelings are heard and addressed and that both people can put their best efforts into problem-solving because both people have been listened to and validated.

A few tips to communicate with a partner about problems:

Open discussion in the way that feels most comfortable for you. If it's talking, great. But maybe you feel more able to speak freely with a letter, or talking over a text messenger? Whatever form of communication enables you to speak the most openly and not feel too freaked out, go that route.

Be patient. Not only was Rome not built in a day, it wasn't rebuilt in anything close to a day. When you bring up problems, don't expect instant solutions: these things take time, and usually plenty of dialoging and experimenting. If you don't feel like you can have the patience to fix them or want to fix them over time. then it's likely your relationship is just over for you, and it's time to move on. (If you keep finding you NEVER have the patience to fix even little problems in a relationship, it's probably time to take a break from more serious relationships until you do.)

Use "I" statements. Yes, it's cheesy. But it's also effective. So, rather than saying "You make me feel unwanted," try, "I feel insecure about your interest in me lately," rather than "You always want me to make the sacrifices!" howsabout "I feel like I need to make too many sacrifices for this relationship" or rather than "You're trying to make me feel jealous," try "I am feeling jealous a lot." Keeping out of the blame game, and talking about your feelings, helps keeps the person you're talking to from feeling defensive, which helps you both communicate best.

Pick neutral, comfortable zones to address problems. In the middle of the school hallway, during sex, or when out with friends isn't neutral. Choose private, comfortable places where no one feels put on the spot or blindsided. And again, don't let things fester, so that by the time you bring your stuff to the table, you're hysterical or boiling over with anger. Usually, productive communication happens best when everyone is fairly calm. If you're going to talk to a friend about the troubles you're having first -- which is always okay, and often really helpful -- do be sure it is a trusted friend, not one who will deliver what you've said to your partner before you do.

[beautifulbuckys]

Can’t Stay Away (3)

PART 2

George Weasley x Reader

George shoved a mouthful of egg into his mouth. “Looks like we’ll be seeing more of each other, Potter.” The small red crest sitting on the breast of George’s robes complimented the ginger hair that sat on his head. People liked to tease the Weasleys. Many joked they didn’t make it into Gryffindor for their bravery. Rather, their genetic carrot tops.

I pressed my lips together tightly. “I guess so.”

Warnings: Angry/protective brother Harry, some swearing, cheeky George!!!

The week before school began was nothing but stressful. Molly and Arthur found themselves running around the Burrow, Hogsmede, and Diagon Ally almost daily. Charlie and Bill visited for a few days to wish everyone a successful school year. I’d found myself quite on edge. Every year, without fail, something terrible happened to Harry. I’d chosen to speak to him about it 2 days after we all went school shopping.

“Harry,” I sighed. Both of us were early risers. Ginny always joked we rose with the sun, usually complaining about it with her pillow over her face. Harry had noted Ron complained too, but he never took Ron seriously due to the dry drool that crusted on the corner of his mouth. “Listen. We’ve been through a lot. You’ve been through a lot. I know lately, things have been hectic. The Burrow is basically our home, the Weasleys are the closest we have to family. Something horrible happens to you every school year. I just want to let you know I’m here for you. I really want to provide the support you need,” I shared over the dining table. We sat and drank tea together once we woke up. We considered it our ‘sibling bonding’ time. 

Harry rubbed his sleep-ridden eyes. “Oh, um, yeah. I know you’re here for me. I also know you’re trying really hard. I notice how late you stay up with Ron and I so I can get high marks. You stay outside in the grueling sun to make sure you can help Molly put food on the table. I hope you know I notice all the work you put in to making me feel normal,” 

I smiled. It felt good to be recognized. 

“I really appreciate that, Harry. While we’re on the topic,” I spent a solid 10 minutes pitching therapy towards Harry. There was some initial resistance on this end. He feared trying to mask his problems to a muggle therapist. However, I had done some research and discovered wizard councilors Harry could speak to. Once I disclosed that to my brother, he has on board. I promised I’d iron out the details with Dumbledore when we returned back to Hogwarts. 

The conversation covered Harry’s traumas, triggers, and fears in the future. He smiled as we discussed his future, and how I want to set him up for success physically as well as emotionally. The smile quickly faded from his pale face when he watched me lift my mug to take a sip of the tea I had prepared. 

“What’s that?”

I furrowed my brow. “What’s what?” Harry pointed to the small purple and brown ring that wrapped around my wrist. “Oh, that? Nothing. Doesn’t even hurt!” I exclaimed. To further prove my point, I pushed my finger into it with my other hand. Okay, maybe that was a lie, as I winced slightly when the pressure found its placement. Harry didn’t see George and I exchange in the store like Ron did. George and I pretended nothing happened. We silently agreed to just move on. 

“Who did that?” Harry’s face was completely serious. 

“Who did what?” A small red-headed figure found themselves in the kitchen. It was Ron. Oddly enough, Ron was a morning person. He was usually the first to wake up after Harry and me. He claimed he loved listening to the birds' chirp from the woods in the morning. Ron called it his natural alarm clock. 

“That.” Harry’s thin finger pointed at my wrist. Well, if Ron told the truth I’d be deep in shit trying to explain why George was rough with me. And not in the fun way. 

Ron walked up closer to the table to examine. He paused, glancing at my wrist for a moment. Before speaking, “Oh. That was George. She and I were talking and George got kinda mad. Bugger dragged her out of the book store by her wrist. I could tell he had a strong grip, her skin was turning a yellowy-wite because of it,” Harry whipped his head back towards me, as he was looking at Ron while he recalled the happenings of the other day. 

“That bloody fucke-” Harry started. 

Thus, for the past week, my brother has been giving George Weasley the side eye and everyone was confused. Everyone except for Ron and I. However, I wanted to shake it off. Besides, George and I had that mutual…silent agreement to move on. That’s all I wanted to do. Move on. Sure. 

The first two days of school at Hogwarts were chaotic. A whopping 126 new kids were sorted into Gryffindor. All the Weasleys’ lost their minds, siting it as a new record since my class. However this new influx of prepubecent wizards caused for a lot of drama. People were already dating, fueding, friending, and many other verbs ending in -ing that I didn’t want to know about. The large class sizes reflected in the busyness of the Great Hall. Hundreds of first years were running around in their new house robes mingling. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be rolling my eyes. Yet, I remember what it was like. I pictured myself in their places. It felt like yesterday when I met Fred and George during the sorting ceremony. Look at us now!

The third morning was filled with lots of complaining. Ginny’s new dormmates were whiney and in love with Harry. Harry can’t seem to find a moment of peace (per usual). Ron and George insisted that the common room was filled with shoulder-to-shoulder traffic. Fred can’t stand Dionne Hawkins, a Ravenclaw who’d be in his astronomy class. 

Classes. I’d forgotten about classes. The schedules had been passed around the Great Hall during this dining period. Pieces of yellowed parchment were flying through the air. Or students got their schedules the lamer way, handed to them by their head of house. I peered uo above me, to notice the large piece of paper headed straight for my plate of biscuts and bacon. 

“Anythin’ good? I know they been addin’ classmate names to the list,” Ron peeked at Harry’s parchment, speaking while chewing. If we were back at the burrow, Molly would’ve chastized him. Harry and Ron sat shoulder to shoulder, studying the long schedule Harry had received. 

I took the time to eye my classes schedule. Ron was right, classmate names were also listed. That was a bonus, I could see my friends in my classes and coordinate with them. I’d heard this organization tactic was much like what muggle university students do. Arthur had shared that tidbit of information with me last summer. 

Looking closer, you noticed a reoccuring name under the class titles.

Caring for Mythical Beasts? George Weasley was at the bottom of the class member list. Astronomy? Both Fred and George were listen. Defense Against the Dark Arts? Guess who! The younger of the twins was listed there too. Under every single class title sat George’s name. Except for one. Herbology. My favorite class. My personal oasis. 

George shoved a mouthful of egg into his mouth. “Looks like we’ll be seeing more of each other, Potter.” The small red crest sitting on the breast of George’s robes complimented the ginger hair that sat on his head. People liked to tease the Weasleys. Many joked they didn’t make it into Gryffindor for their bravery. Rather, their genetic carrot tops. 

I pressed my lips together tightly. “I guess so.”

It had been hell. Actual hell. If Scotland got any hotter, I would’ve mistaken here for Hell. George Weasley has made my life unbearable. I’m surrounded by his mischievous antics for 7 hours a day with a single break varying through the weekdays. 

George Weasley didn’t his academia career very seriously. He cracked jokes when he was called on. He’s raise his hand when questions were asked and give the most ridiculous answer. My favorite? When he’d test random pranks Fred and him had been working on to get a reaction. A lot of our classmates found him entertaining. He added a bit of color to the black and white days of Hogwarts academics. I can admit, some days I found myself laughing at his ways. Occasionally, they’d be entertaining. Usually though, I’d crack a smile at best. To the surprise of many, I was here to learn. Sure, Hogwarts was fun. Yet it’s school; people needed to realize that. 

I found that not many of my classes housed too many of my friends. I’m lucky I got Fred in astronomy. I couldn’t forget, though, that he had his other half. They acted the same together. Always goofing off; never serious. 

That meant most of the time, I was walking to my classes by myself. Occasionally I’d cross pathes with a friend. It was rare, and only on certain days. Other days I’d see Ron, Harry and their female friend sitting on the steps by the divination classroom. I’d flash them a smile and continue heading on my way. Unfortunately, George seemed to have picked this up. Every once in a while we’d accidentlaly walk side by side when traveling. Then this instance became more frequent. Until…George was walking with me everywhere. 

“You’ve got to stop following me,” I huff one day in a rush to defense against the dark arts. It’d been a particularly shitty day. I attended breakfast late; at which all the food was cold. Then, a fairy had bitten a whole through the bottom left fabric on my robes. The last thing I needed was George Weasley trailing me like a lost kitten.

He smirked smugly. “It’s almost like we’re going to the same class.”

I sighed, shaking my head. I tried to lose him; quicken my pace and trap him in the wave of first years looking for their classes. He just widened his stride, keeping by my side. 

“I don’t understand why you don’t take the classes more seriously. You know this leads up to our future right?” George nods his head. “Good. Just checking. Because it certainly seems you’ve got your head in prank land and not on the ground like it should be.”

He laughed. “Not everything is so serious, ‘ya know.”

“Yes it is, George.”

His smirk twisted itself into a genuine smile. The more I’ve been around him, willingly or not, I’ve noticed small quirks in his appearance. Like how George has a small dimple on the right side of his mouth. That detail is particularly funny, because Fred has an identical dimple on the left. Or how George’s thinly spread freckles also shared an orangey hue. Perhaps one of my favorites is how his eyebrows are always neatly combed. I’ve never seem him actually comb them. However, his eyebrows are never messy. I’m not going to ask, either. It might be one of those fortunate Weasleu genes the family has. Ginny has perfectly white and straight teeth. Percy’s tight coils in his hair that he never needed to tame like Bill. 

“I’m happy to know you’re so concerned, Potter girl.”

“I hate when you call me that,” I mutter, tugging my book bag staps up and over my shoulder. 

George’s smile never falters. “I know you do. That’s why I do it.” He comments as we approach the door to the classroom. A large group of students stood outside, crowding the arched stone doorway. If it were any other time, I’d shove through the crowd to get away from the twin. But today? I actually weren’t hating him as much. Talk about improvement!

“By the way, George,” I turned to face the tall figure that had stopped next to me. “Harry wants to rip your guts out. You bruised my wrist. I’m not mad about it, although it hurt. But he saw. Ron told him what happened. Not the whole story, but the gist. He knows you did it and he’s bloody angry.”

George chuckled. “You Potter group are fiesty. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And for some reason. It made you bubbly to hear those words falling from George’s lips.

[emerald-chaos]

Insomnia

*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*

Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)

Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.

No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.

You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.

Jesus, she looks awful.

The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.

The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.

Yeah, fat chance.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.

Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.

In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.

Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.

“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.

The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”

The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.

“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.

“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.

You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.

The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.

The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.

The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.

Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.

If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”

His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.

“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.

Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.

“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.

Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.

“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.

“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.

“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.

“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.

You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.

“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.

At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.

He....well, he was Bucky.

And god damn it if you didn’t love him.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.

“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.

You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.

“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.

“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.

“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.

“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.

[rp-meme-central]

The Owl House - O Titan, Where Art Thou - sentence starters

1. “Hey look! Everyone missed us so much, they put up pretty signs!” 

2. “I can’t believe this. All this time, you’ve had a _____ under your roof? I’ve eaten ice cream with a god!” 

3. “Thanks, ______, but I just want things to feel normal right now.” 

4. “Hey, I know you. You’re _____ from _____. Shouldn’t you be kissing _____’s butt right now?” 

5. “Growing up, all I wanted was to be a _____. To be considered one of the best. I got what I wanted, but it’s not what I thought it was.” 

6. “You going somewhere? ‘Cause I’ve got a sidecar and nothing but time.” 

7. “I point. You drive.”

8. “Did I insult _____ by groveling too much? Did I not grovel enough?” 

9. “I would have appreciated some kind of reaction. These were hard to get!”

10. “If things get hairy, you fly out of here as fast as you can. Hey, don’t give me that face. Just say ‘okay’, okay?” 

11. “Please, just give me a minute. I’m not trying to start trouble.” 

12. “Are you sending me away?” 

13. “You’re sending me away? But I can help! Why don’t you get that yet?” 

14. “After everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe you’re still underestimating me.” 

15. “You’re going with _____. They’ll keep you safe.” 

16. “I always wanted to have power, and to command respect and fear. So now that I kind of have all that, why does my stomach feel all... ugh.” 

17. “I don’t want people to see me as a big scary monster anymore.” 

18. “Hey _____, I’ve been there. I can recommend a good therapist.” 

19. “You happy now? This way, neither of us can stop _____.” 

20. “Why couldn’t you just let me help with your stupid plan? Is it because I’m a _____? Do you think I’m still that weak?” 

21. “I’ll listen to you now, I’ll do whatever you say! Just fight back! Please!” 

22. “I’m going to set you down. Please, try not to bite anyone.” 

23. “You could have let me in on things before attacking me.” 

24. “You’re a horrible actor. I had to make it look real.” 

25. “I’m starting to think I wasn’t very good at my job.” 

26. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? I could have helped.” 

27. “Is it so unbelieveable that I wanted to keep you safe? But, in typical _____ fashion, you’re not going to stop until you make things right.” 

28. “I did not agree to this name!” 

[mxltifaves]

Hate is a Strong Word (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Bucky x Y/N attends a therapy session after a mission gone wrong. You both love getting on each other’s nerves and after warnings from the rest of the Avengers, you don’t listen.

A/N: I've had this fic in my drafts for like two months and I don't know why I haven't posted it so here it is. Hope you enjoy it. Also, requests are open so If you have a fic in mind feel free to send it.

Ever since you joined the avengers you’ve always gotten along with everyone except with the one and only Bucky Barnes. You two were complete opposites, Bucky was very reserved and only really opened up to certain people while you were outgoing and loved to talk. When Bucky was under Hydra’s control, he was tasked to assassinate a man who threatened Hydra but your parents were killed in the crossfire. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nobody aside from Steve and Tony knew you knew about Bucky killing your parents. Despite knowing that you didn’t hold it against Bucky because he wasn’t himself.

After a mission gone wrong due to you two bickering, you ended up in therapy with Bucky. Tony thought it would be a good idea to clear the air between you two and make sure nothing like what happened, happened again. You and Bucky really didn’t want to do it but it wasn’t like you had any other choice. So there you were, sitting next to each other in a very dull room with a woman sitting across from you.

“Y/N, Bucky, I am Dr. Raynor. I will be your therapist. So tell me why you’re here today?”

As you prepared for your mission, Nat and Wanda came into your room. “Ready?” Wanda asked as they took a seat on your bed.

“Yeah, almost just a few more things,” you responded as you rummaged through your drawers.

“Are you and Barnes going to be okay?” Nat asked raising her brow

“What do you mean?” you asked confused

“Look, we've all noticed your hostility towards each other. It can go either two ways, you end up dead or between the sheets,” the read head raised her brow giving you a knowing look.

“First of all eww, I would never. Second of all, I’m not an idiot. We may argue a lot but we don’t let that get in between the job,” You responded with a serious look on your face

“Okay, if you say so,” she said, not believing you. Before you had a chance to respond, F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke over the intercom.

“Ms. y/l/n, Mr. Barnes would like to know if you are ready to go?”

“Can you tell him I need ten more minutes,” you responded, taking the opportunity to get him annoyed since you were already ready.

“He will not like that,” F.R.I.D.A.Y said

“I know,” you smirked. You sat on your bed waiting for ten minutes to pass. You knew Bucky hated when you took too long which is why you always did.

“You know he’s gonna come looking for you,” Wanda said to you

“No he won’t, he’ll just brood the entire way there,” you smiled.

“I don’t understand you two. There is some sexual tension there and you bicker to hide it,” Nat said confused but yet understood the nature of your relationship with Bucky. As much as you hated to admit it she was partially right. After chatting with Wanda and Nat for 10 minutes, you got up and made your way to the jet where Bucky was already waiting for you.

“What took you so long?” he asked annoyed

“Calm down grumpus, I had to take care of something,” you quickly defended yourself.

**Flashback**

“Because our “boss” is an arrogant ass and enjoys punishing us,” you said rolling your eyes.

“Mr. Stark brought me up to speed on your situation. So who would like to start?” she asked you and Bucky but neither of you answered. “No volunteers?” she asked looking at the two of you completely uninvested. “Okay then, y/n why don’t you start? Why does Bucky aggravate you?” she asked looking in your direction.

“I don’t know, we just can’t stand each other,” you answered

“Look the only way this will work is if you communicate,” Dr. Raynor said

“There’s nothing to communicate so I’m not sure what you want me to say,” you responded

“Okay, what about you Bucky? Why is it that you and y/n don’t get along?” she turned to Bucky who was fidgeting with his fingers.

“As she said, we just don’t,” he said coldly

“Okay, do you trust each other?” she asked

“I trust him, when it counts,” you responded feeling his eyes on you

“What she said,” he responded

“Okay, so tell me about the incident that happened during your mission,” she asked you both.

“We were supposed to gather some information on someone we’ve been trying to apprehend, it was supposed to be easy, ” you said, remembering the events that lead you here.

*Flashback*

“Are you going to be brooding the whole mission?” you asked him, making eye contact with Bucky, but he didn’t respond.

“I guess that answers my question,” you muttered

“So what’s the plan?” Bucky spoke

“He speaks,” you said, “We go in, get what we need, then get out,” you simply said, putting in the earpiece.

“So no plan,” he rolled his eyes

“That is the plan, it’s an easy mission. Just try not to get caught,” you responded.

‘Easier said than done,” he muttered

“Look we go in, you distract and I’ll use this handy flash drive to upload all their files into our servers. Quick and easy,” you explained

“Why do I have to distract them? You do it,” Bucky said

“Because you’re an old man and that doesn’t know how to use technology,” you said rolling your eyes

“I do know how to use technology, for your information,” Bucky said annoyed

“Barely,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Just hurry,” he said. You made your way over to the networking room, making sure nobody saw you or followed you. Once you made it inside you plugged in the drive downloading all the files onto it. “How we doing?” you heard over the comms.

“It’s downloading,” you said.

“Can you hurry it up?” he asked

“No, I can’t. If I hurry the files won’t properly transfer, meaning we would fail the mission and I don’t fail. So shut up and let me work,” You said as you continued typing.

“Work faster,” Bucky said causing you to roll your eyes at him. “I hate you,” you muttered thinking he wouldn’t hear you.

“Feeling’s mutual,” he said back. After a couple of minutes of silence, you heard Bucky speak. “Y/n, you got incoming,”

“I thought I told you to distract them,” you said frustrated.

“There’s only so much stalling I can do. I’m on my way to you,” he said. You tried to work faster but it was useless. The files still had about 10 percent to go, which seemed to go by slowly. You heard the doorknob move, pulling out your gun and pointing it towards it. The door was swung open only to reveal Bucky. “Easy there,” he said. “Jesus, Barnes a little warning next time. I could’ve shot you,” you rolled your eyes. “Trust me doll, you couldn’t even if you tried,” he smirked

“You wanna test that theory out?” you said annoyed.

“Later, right now we gotta get the hell out of here,” he said hurrying you.

“It’s not done,” you said pointing to the screen, only 6 percent left.

“Just leave it. We got enough,” Bucky urged you.

“No, it’s almost done. We can get it all,” you said turning back to the computer.

“Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?” he said under his breath. “I’ll keep watch, hurry,” he said going back to the door to make sure nobody was coming.

“Shit, y/n we have to leave,” he said as he saw guards turning the corner and making their way to you.

“Wait, it’s almost done,” you said.

“Y/n, now!” Bucky yelled at you.

“Okay I got it,” you said pulling out the drive. “Told you I could do it,” you said. As you were about to exit the room, gunshots started. Bucky pulled you back inside but you were already hit in the arm. “Shit, what the hell?” you cursed looking at your bleeding arm. “Now you see why I was hurrying you?” Bucky asked

“Now is not the time, Barnes,” you yelled at him, putting pressure on your arm.

“Why because I was right and you can’t handle me being right?” he asked

“Can we just get the hell out without dying?” you said

“Can you use your gun?” he asked

“Yeah,” you said groaning in pain. Bucky was the first one to peak out the door, gunshots still firing. He started firing back landing a few shots. You went after him, firing as many shots as you could. Your arm bleeding out more as you moved. After killing most of them, there were only two men left. “I’m out,” Bucky said looking at the empty clip. “Me too,” you said back. Bucky pulled out the knife from his side pocket. He started fighting the two men, landing a few stikes on them. Eventually, the two men were on the ground. “Not bad,” you said a small smile forming. “Is that a compliment?” he raised his brow. “Never,” you shook your head smirking. “Are you okay?” he furrowed his brows. You were clearly losing a lot of blood. “Is that worry I sense?” you chuckled dryly. “Never,” he smiled at you. “Let get out of here before more of them come,” Bucky said looking back at the unconscious men.

**END FLASHBACK**

“You know thinking about it, I’m not really sure how we screwed up. I mean we got what we went there for. There might’ve been some unprecedented events but we still got what we needed,” you tried to defend yourself.

“I think it’s not really about the mission itself it’s more your relationship with each other,” Dr. Raynor said

“I’m not really sure what kind of relationship you are referring to, but like we’ve said we just can’t stand each other,” you said.

“Why do you think that is?”

“I tried to be nice when I first joined the Avengers but cyborg over here was a complete ass so I stopped trying to be nice,” You explained

“Mr. Barnes, you have anything to say?” she looked at Bucky. Bucky stayed silent not wanting to partake in the conversation.

“See? Complete ass,” you said shaking your head in annoyance. “You know what, I’m done. This is completely useless, you can give us the okay to go back on missions or you can’t I don’t care,” you said as you stood up and left the room. You got outside and let out a breath, tired from that useless therapy session. After about twenty minutes Bucky finally got outside. “You know I don’t hate you or anything,” Bucky said causing you to turn to look at him. “What?” you asked confused

“Fourteen years ago, I was sent to kills someone. There was a couple that saw so I had to kill them too. I remember their names. When you joined and saw your last name I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. I killed your parents, and I’m sorry,” Bucky said avoiding your eyes.

“I know,” you said softly

“You know?” he asked confused

“Yeah, I’ve read your file. Everyone you’ve killed while under Hydra’s control, every single person,” you said

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because I know that wasn’t you. And being angry towards you wouldn’t bring them back,” you explained.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized once again.

“I know,” you smiled warmly. “Come on, I need to eat,” you said as you started walking away. “This doesn’t make us friends right?” you stopped to ask.

“Never,” he smiled softly. “Good, we wouldn’t want that now,” you teased him.