#they cure my depression I don’t know what to fuckin say.......

[yashley]

[taxfraudhousewife]

hey toga

getting a job didn’t cure the depression

the new kind of depression

at least it’s not personal anymore

at least everyone doesn’t hate me for reasons no one can place but everyone can see

i don’t know what to do now

i have so many questions

i wish it didn’t take me so long to think of them

i’m sorry i took so long

i really wish you were here

my friends don’t want to do illegal shit

my mom thinks i’m brainwashed

maybe you are too

i can’t decide if it’s better or worse than regular brainwashing

what the fuck did you do

i haven’t even internalized your actual death how am i supposed to internalize the fucking concept of socialism without tearing myself inside out

how did you hold your outsides out

what kind of outside did you even have to grow

i think mine is bad

i know yours is worse

how did you just sit inside your own outside

i can’t keep it separate

maybe we’re not supposed to

but everyone else can

i can’t tell if you did

i assume not if you were abusing that many substances

but you weren’t as insufferable as i am

that extremely likeable disposition

i know it’s wrong to be jealous of you

it’ll never stop until i am you

i wouldn’t have to be become you if you were still here

if you took me with you or not i could’ve been something else

someone whose muslim jesus is alive and well

im so desperate to be the person you might’ve turned me into

but there is no one to do the turning

except for me

who still really misses you

me who can’t just let you go

maybe i’m just a woman who needs a man to follow and serve

so ready to throw the second brick that the first no longer crosses my mind

and boy have i seen my beloved men be strong and brave

but maybe that’s why i put too much faith in them

it could���ve been you

i will never get over that

a god i would fight to my death for

isn’t that dramatic from me of all people

id probably get you killed a lot sooner

you’d never let me come in the first place

you’d talk me out of it and i’d obey because that’s what religious freaks do

who knows how long i’d spend believing im meant to follow the rules

because you’d say what you need to say to keep me from becoming you

i’m not anything like you tho

i’m too scared to do anything alone

and jesus louisis i am so alone without you

and i’m so fuckin lost and i miss you

my friends say let it eat itself

but that would make you an accelerationist

and i have that same accelerationist demon inside

but he’s just as afraid to act alone as i am

it’s so lonely

that’s the point

and i could get over myself for the sake of actual human connection

i could let the world eat itself

maybe even be happy

and you wouldn’t blame me

you’d probably encourage it

i know you wouldn’t want me to throw away my undeserved place in the machine for ideologies and promises

i know you wouldn’t want me under the fireworks and orchestras

it must’ve been hard

the balance between keeping the teenagers safe and radicalizing them too far

teaching revolution without violence

when you know it’s not possible

i assume they weren’t as hardcore loyalist as me

i assume they know better than me that nothing is possible without violence

i imagine you desperately wrangling angry nineteen year olds

your incantations are only half as effective on them

i keep wondering if you were afraid that you’d set them up for death so young

wish you’d wrangle me

or choose not to

but an active choice rather than dead omission is all i really want

i could hate myself less if you carved away what you deemed excess

if i could keep everything in me that i learned from you

if the reactionary anger slathered over the grief could melt away in your light

if everything in me had your seal of approval

come on muslim jesus

you’re the closest thing i’ll have to a real prophet

i’m sorry i thought you were too smart for your religion

i get it now (in a way)

you showed me where to find fundamental truths about the universe

maybe in a way you were too smart for your religion

but your golden light didn’t come from your smarts

your light was fever hot and smelled like ketosis breath

damp like my gong gongs jungle and dehydrated like my grandmas sand storms

scaled like a dragon and sweetly sung like a bird

i felt like a cat laid in the sun

is it crazy how bad i wish i could curl up with you again

i used to fantasize about your angry nineteen year olds busting you out and sending you here

sometimes i still do

they were strong and able to pull it off because of what you gave them

sent you here swollen and bruised but with your organs intact

and you just needed to rest for a week and you voluntarily rested

because you believed those angry nineteen year olds had east turkistan in the bag

and i doted on you like you did me when we were both younger and more functional

and between the doting i curled up beside you and watched you write and after every word i’d ask

what’s that say

you’d respond in perfect russian

and i would say naxui and roll my eyes at you

and you would roll your eyes at me

and i would press my brow to yours and try not to cry

cause at this point in the maladaptive daydream i’ve remembered it’s not real

if i could cradle that giant asian head and just hold on for five more seconds

i don’t need enough time to confess my undying religious devotion

but enough for you to know that even tho i can’t say it to anybody i love you

and i believe you

[dienamights]

A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere​ ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you. 

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work. 

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,” 

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement. 

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible. 

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-” 

“How is your hero boyfriend?” 

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention. 

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change. 

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?” 

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior. 

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention. 

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful. 

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it. 

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him 

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time. 

He told me so. 

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.” 

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt. 

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.” 

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek. 

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it. 

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

[countessmorgasson]

Idle Hands are the Devil’s Workshop

Valdemar x MC smut 😏 hell fuckin yeah

Female MC

(Disclaimer: 🍋🍋 warning! A little on the kinky side but hey it’s Valdemar, right?)

A cold shiver runs down your back, and you find your entire body rigid, unable to move. You look down at your feet, pleading them to take a step, but they’re numb. 

You thought you’d be alone down here- what was this place called? Nobody of the palace really spoke about it these days, and the only other time you were down here was... a long time ago, it seemed. It’s where the doctors worked on a cure for the plague. 

Sometimes if you focus hard enough, you hear the faint skittering of beetles amongst the silence. 

You thought you’d be alone down here- but your instincts take over before your mind does, sending chills throughout your body- and simultaneously lighting a fire in your chest. Your heart begins to flutter, and your stomach drops, but you can’t move.

There’s only one... person, who’s presence sends your body into shock like this. You hear their voice just as a name pops into your head.

“M/c.”

Quaestor Valdemar’s breath tingles along your neck as they creep around you. They make your name sound so... cold. Goosebumps are still rising along your skin, but despite not being able to move, you’re not in a panic. Could it be, you’re finally warming up to a member of the court?

“It pleases me to see you’ve taken an interest in my office.”

Although devoid of emotion, their voice seems to take on a joking tone. Two cold hands squeeze your shoulders, fingers teasingly pressed into your skin.

“I thought I was alone,” you manage to stammer out.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Their response is as quick as their feet, and before you know it Valdemar is only inches from you, their piercing eyes exploring your face.

The way they look you over doesn’t scare you the way it used to- but that doesn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. You feel yourself blushing among it all.

“Has your curiosity finally taken you over the edge?”

“What?” Your blush runs deeper, but Valdemar doesn’t take notice. They casually circle around you, letting their fingers brush over your shoulders, across your back... are they teasing you?

“Curious, isn’t it? How easily the plague was eradicated? I can’t remember the last time I even heard so much as a sneeze... quite depressing.”

They keep their hold on you, but your instincts seem to fade away. On any given day you’d keep your distance from most members of the court, but there’s something almost appealing about the icy aura enveloping the two of you. 

“I was just here to...” You trail off.

Why were you here? It’s not like there was much use for this office anyway. Doctor Devorak moved all his belongings out of here as soon as he could. Nobody else in the palace even acknowledged it these days- other than Valdemar. It’s not like you had business down here. 

But maybe you were here for a reason you didn’t want to admit to yourself. 

Valdemar doesn’t seem to notice how you trail off- or better yet, they don’t care. They’ve aligned themselves again so that you’re face to face.  This time they’re a little closer, grinning at you with a smile that seems to have too many teeth. 

Why are they looking at you like that? Why is your heart pounding so hard?

“You’ve always been such an interesting specimen...” Valdemar’s voice, while chilling, seems to take on a tone you don’t recognize. In fact, you’ve never heard them speak like that- so hushed, so distracted. 

A cold hand gently runs down your arm, but you’re loving the touch so much you don’t even realize how close they’ve gotten to you.

Should I...?

The question rolls around in your head over and over, but you’re not hesitating. The closer you step, the harder your heart pounds and the more confident you feel. 

What is this, a spell? 

Valdemar seems to notice something different in you when you’re this close. Their eyes caress your face in what may be the closest thing they have to emotion. 

“I’ve always been drawn to you,” you admit. “In one way or another.”

When your lips meet, you almost can’t believe it’s happening.  It’s a hesitant kiss, and for a moment you’re not sure if it even feels right. 

“What am I doing?” Your eyes are still shut when you break away, but a hard grip on your arm keeps you in place. Valdemar’s eyes don’t give away what they must be thinking, and in that moment, you’ve never been more afraid of them. 

They pull you back closely enough for you to understand the hint.  With their head tilted, their eyes roam your body with a newfound interest. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

-

You should be scared. 

You shouldn’t have gotten yourself in this situation, you think. And yet... the only reason your heart beats so hard is because Valdemar’s looming over you with that curious gleam in their eyes.

They somehow managed to lay you on their old vivisection table- not that you put up much of a fight. It’s got to be a spell, you think. Any sane human being would’ve started struggling the moment they’ve been strapped down.

But like they said... you’re not exactly normal.

“M/c, I do have to admit, you’re the first I’ve had in... oh, it feels like a millennium ago.” 

The cool metal of a scalpel is pressed against your cheek. Not hard enough to cut, but it’s getting harder to breathe.

They’re teasing you, you realize. 

“So many things to discover...” their eyes meet yours. “Somehow, it doesn’t seem right to cut you open. Not tonight, at least. How... sentimental of me. I suppose there’s still much I can learn from you.”

They trail the scalpel from your cheek down to your neck, from your neck to your chest. All with a... peculiar look in their eyes.

“I'm sorry for-” 

Valdemar puts their finger to your lips. 

“You know what I admire about you, magician? You’re reserved. No unnecessary rambling. Humans are just these... endless chatterboxes. It’s so off-putting. Not you, m/c. You know when to stay quiet.”

Even if you were going to respond, you’re interrupted by something you weren’t expecting at all: a kiss. Valdemar’s bent over you, returning the gesture in a swift motion. You struggle against your restraints- just desperate to push yourself closer to them.

It only takes the slightest of their movements to break away- and it’s nearly agonizing. 

“What are you going to do to me?” 

“What I do best. Science.” Valdemar lets the scalpel fall to the ground with a clatter, tossing their gloves to the side. 

“Research,” they add on. 

“Do I get a say in this?” 

You’re not like them at all- your smile gives it all away. Valdemar may say you’re reserved, but you beg to differ. You blush too frequently- you’re expressive, and your eyes give away your thoughts.

“What do you say? Aren’t you as curious as I am?”

“Absolutely.”

With that, Valdemar works through your layers of clothing with ease. Something about the way their hands move makes your bite your lip. You really should be concerned by how comfortable they are with a patient strapped against the table like this... but again, you’re not an ordinary patient. 

The majority of their tools aren’t even near...

Oh Gods, their hands feel so icy on your bare skin- it burns! It burns so... good. Good enough to make you cry out.  This is insane. 

“Curious...” Valdemar repeats. The sound of their voice melts as you shut your eyes and explore the feeling. Every stroke of their fingers raises goosebumps along your skin- and oh, it just feels so good when they dig their fingers in a little...

“Does that hurt, m/c?”

“No- yes- I like it.”

You’re frozen again, body gone rigid like you had only minutes ago when Valdemar had first walked in. Just being around them practically had you in a trance, and look at you now; willingly strapped against a table while they work their hands over your body. 

“I’m perplexed by your heartbeat,” they admit. “Beating quite quickly, isn’t it? Signs of a strong heart. I bet it’s beautiful...” They pause. “Like you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but their fingers dig in a little too deeply this time, leaving a mark on your chest. 

“Hmm.” 

Valdemar grins up at you; a razor-sharp smile. It should be off-putting you think, but now you’re so turned on you can’t think straight. 

“You bleed just like all the rest.”

Sharp kisses. That’s the best way you can describe what they’re doing to you. Icy lips roam your bare skin, everywhere from your arms to your neck to your breasts; and every now and then you feel jagged teeth scraping along. 

“Like what you see?” You ask. “For research purposes, of course.”

The joke seems to fly over their head. They respond with a muffled groan.

“Oh- you’re...” you start to writhe against the table. Valdemar’s discovered your sweet spot. Their wandering fingers graze along your inner thighs.

“Ahh...”

Despite your ecstatic shiver, Valdemar pulls themselves away from you, returning to the stance they had earlier; bent over just enough to look you in the eyes. 

Either Valdemar is the world cruelest tease, or they don’t realize just how much their touch affects you. They’re practically edging you along without knowing it- and it’s torture. It’s not like you can simply point it out, either; something tells you they’re just dying to see you beg for their mercy.

“Tell me m/c,” their tone taunts you. “How does it feel when I do... this?”

One of their hands makes its way back in between your legs again, gently pressing a finger against your throbbing clit- just enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. 

“!”

You don’t care now- you let yourself moan and writhe against your restraints.  They have all the power anyway. They always have.

“Hmm. Maybe I was wrong about you being reserved,” they point out. “You’re quite... vocal.”

“Please.” you search their face for any sort of emotion, but they simply cock their head to the side, reading your expression as they continue to pleasure you. “Don’t... stop...”

To your surprise, they give in and listen to you.  Your legs start to shake, and you’re finding it more and more frustrating to have your hands strapped down.  It’s just happening so slowly... you need more.

“More...” you beg.

Valdemar dips down for another blunt kiss, keeping their hands busy on you.  The way they taste, the sharpness of their moves and the way they rub you down... it’s all too much. 

You’re gasping and trembling through the kiss, and suddenly you can’t take it anymore. 

“Oh Gods,” you whine.

Valdemar’s lips move along your jawline, and when their trail reaches your ear, you feel their breath warm against your skin. It’s a tender movement- meanwhile they’re pumping their fingers inside you just roughly enough to make you squirm. It’s taking all you’ve got not to completely melt under their touch in this second. 

“Gods? Think again.” They purr.

You come hard, hips bucking against Valdemar’s hand and tossing about your restraints. You can feel them watching you as you get off... Their eyes are  fixed on yours with such intensity you can’t help but wonder what they’re really thinking right now. 

You’re moaning so loudly and breathlessly you almost forget where you are- and it’s not the most private of places.

It doesn’t matter.

It just feels so good. They make you feel... so... good...

“Ahhh...” you whine in relief. 

Your senses come to you quickly as you catch your breath- almost like you’re waking up from a dream- oh and what a dream it is.

“Indeed, you are quite a specimen,” Valdemar actually caresses your cheek as they say this. Maybe they’ve come out of a dream of their own.  You’re too busy coming down from your high to react.

Frankly, you’re not sure what to make of the situation now- after all you’re naked and strapped against a table in the downstairs palace!

All you can really do is laugh, shakily. 

Valdemar clearly doesn’t understand and stares at you blankly with a look of puzzlement. Even so, they haven’t completely taken their hands off you- not that you’re complaining. You try to search for some sort of telling expression in those eyes but you fail to read them.

“It seems I may never figure you out, m/c.” 

You’re finally released from the straps. Your first thought is to sit up straight and press a kiss to Valdemar’s nose. Your only reaction is a head tilt and a blank stare.

They’ll never admit it, you know, but you can swear that you see a blush on their face. Your eyes drift to your clothes, lying peacefully on the ground near the scalpel Valdemar never used. 

“I could say the same for you, Quaestor. I suppose we’ll have to get to know each other better somehow.”

[mrs-hollandstan]

The One Where They Get Married During Quarantine || Tom Holland

Warnings: talk of the current pandemic, minor mentions of smuttish themes towards the end, language, talk of babiesssss

Word Count: 5,440

Author's Note: I like the way this came out! Thank you for the support on going through with it and I hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

                Join us for the Wedding of 

                            Y/N Y/L/N

                                  &

                        Thomas Holland 

                 Saturday, March 28th 2020

              At Three O'clock in the Afternoon 

                Royal Botanical Kew Gardens

                  Richmond, United Kingdom 

That goddamn invitation stared you in the face from its place on the desk. It was Sunday, March 29th, and you still weren't married to the man of your dreams. You received an email three weeks before that your venue was forced to close their doors for the quarantine and you were stuck at home with not only Tom, but his brother, and both of his best friends. They'd had their fun with the pub quizzes, puzzle building, chicken raising, challenge accepting, but your fiancé always sensed the discontentment that radiated off of you and he was always willing to try and calm it to the best of his ability. But it never seemed to fully work, Tom knowing more than anyone that the fact the wedding you were so excited to plan, exhausted so much time and money into, wasn't happening when you wanted it to. You had a dress hanging in your shared closet, shoes, everything down to the cake delivery plan and the bouquet pickup dates. But it was all cancelled and it was like it was stored in a box and put up on a shelf. And to you, it seemed like Tom didn't understand the way you did, he wasn't hurt the way you were. 

Tom sighs as he enters your bedroom, closing the door behind him and cooing down at Tessa and nearing you. His eyes wander from your figure, one leg drawn up to your chest to the laptop now asleep in front of you. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, feeling the anxious waves roll off of you once more,

"You alright darling?" He asks anyways. You nod and he knows you're lying because he follows your eyes to the invitation you had gleefully told him would end up in a scrapbook when you got past the wedding. He sighs again, moving to sit back on the bed,

"I know how upset you are babe. And you know I hate it too. I loved the idea of seeing you walk down that aisle in this beautiful dress with our family around and all." He states. You can feel the tears burn your eyes as he speaks. You nod, letting him wheel your chair between his legs and clear your hair from your shoulder, 

"Talk to me love. You know I hate when you're quiet. You're never quiet." He says. You swallow, lips pursed for a moment before you sniffle and shake your head, 

"We would've been married a day today Tom. We would have had our dream wedding yesterday and we would have been in Fiji today." You express, Tom flinching at the anguish in your voice, 

"I know love. It sucks, it really does." You nod, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. Not only has your wedding been shelved until further notice, but you're stuck in a testosterone filled house 24/7. You had hoped that soon, maybe in the next year or so, you and Tom would be finding your own place, being newlyweds and starting that family you so badly wanted. You let out a sob that kills Tom and his brain runs a mile a minute at what he can do for you. He clicks his tongue, dragging you into his arms and listening to you sob. He runs his fingers through your hair, eyes closed as he lets you cry, knowing how hard it’s been on you. Not only the wedding, but the quarantine. He always had a way with feelings and he always knew what you were feeling even if you didn’t say it. He sighs,

“I wish there was something I could do for you darling.” He mutters into your hair, kissing your temple. His head continues to throb in thought, eyes darting back and forth as he tries to come up with an answer good enough for you. And then it hits him. He sits up, standing after a moment to drop to his knees at your feet, 

"Baby, babe, I have an idea." He starts, tugging your hand from your face and holding both of yours in both of his, "Darling, hear me out. You and I have been looking forward to this wedding for months, almost a year. So, what if we go through with it and set up a little wedding ceremony in the back yard, just us and the boys and just fuckin do it still? What do you think?" He asks. You stare down at him, watching his eyes swirl in worry and hurt at the sight of you, his thumbs coming up to collect the tears from under your own eyes, 

"I think it could be cool. We could- I-I mean you have your dress and I have more fucking tuxes than I know what to do with. I could- that florist we were using is doing curbside pickup and we paid for the order, I could go pick up just your bouquet and we could set up some chairs in the backyard-"

"Tom, someone would have to ordain it."

"Says who? We just have a little ceremony, wear our rings and when the world is normal-ish again, we go out and get married for real, reception and all with our families and we can... cure your little depression." He tries to lighten,

"We can just... wait until like August or something." You try and brush off. Tom quickly shakes his head, 

"Fuck that. You wanted a Spring wedding with all the pastels. We're not settling for an anniversary in August when we were excited for March or April. If we're doing it, we're doing it now or we're doing it next Spring and I've waited long enough to make you my wife. I don't want to wait another year." He reasons. After a moment, he purses his lips, 

"I wonder..." He trails off, standing from his knees and starting out of the room. You throw your arms up, Tessa taking his place on the bed behind you, tail shuffling the bedding as she laps at your cheeks and you squeal. 

Tom hurries down the hall and into the living room where the boys are playing Call of Duty, just like he left them. He presses the button on the TV to turn it off and gain the full, undivided attention of the now irritated, chattering boys. Tom waves his hands in the air to quiet the group, 

"I'll turn it back on in a minute, I need to ask a favor of you guys." He yells over them. They quiet then, watching Tom lick his lips, 

"I need... h-have any of you thought of getting ordained as a minister?" He asks. All three pairs of eyebrows furrow, the boys looking between themselves before Harry looks back up at his brother, one eyebrow raised, 

"Fucking what?" Harry asks. Harrison snickers before Tom rolls his eyes, 

"I was thinking Y/N and I could have a wedding ceremony in the backyard but we need someone to officiate for it to actually mean anything. That's what she's most upset about. I just... I was wondering if one of you guys could do it." He elaborates, suddenly feeling small, stupid. The room is silent for a moment before Tuwaine tsks, 

"Fuck it, I'll do it. It'll give me something to do in this damn house." He speaks up with a shrug, Tom's heart feeling a little more free now that Tuwaine has agreed. Tom thanks him, watching his friend nod, 

"How long do you think it'll take?" Tuwaine shrugs again, 

"Think it's like two weeks." Tom nods and turns the TV back on before turning and starting back down the hall. He slams his door behind him, finding the desk calendar that has had big red X's across it for weeks now. He tosses it on the bed before your newly laid down figure, 

"Pick a new wedding date two weeks from now. Any date you want." He says, chocolate colored eyes sparkling up at you in so much intent. You sigh, rubbing your thumb across Tessa's paw as you raise to an elbow and look over the calendar. It takes you a moment, but you point to the 11th of April. Tom finds a marker on your desk and adds the text, "New Wedding" before he returns the calendar to the spot in front of you,

"Tuwaine has agreed to get ordained and... we can get married the eleventh in the backyard. I'll pick up your bouquet and I can... go get a cake from the store and we'll just have a little wedding here. It'll be small and... maybe not as pretty as the wedding we spent all that time planning, but it's ours and that's what matters." He reasons. You nod, staring down at the grey puppy laid before you. He stands, leaning over your body to kiss your forehead, 

"I'll do the best I can to make you happy with this. I know it isn't ideal but... I think it'll be beautiful babe." You nod, glancing up at him. He smiles, 

"I'm excited to see you in your dress baby. I love you and I just know you'll be gorgeous." He says, kissing your lips softly. You nod, petting Tessa and feeling the tightening in your chest let up, the excitement growing inside your belly like it did the first time you planned a wedding, 

"Yeah. I think it'll be nice to... just actually be able to say we're married and have that strength during this... really fucked up time." You confirm. He nods, 

"I'd love to have Mrs. Holland runnin around here the rest of quarantine. We didn't think this whole lockdown thing would happen and I like the idea of going through with our wedding in it. A big fuck you to the world." You admit. He hums, staring down at you before he smiles and stands again, 

"Lets fuck around and get married then yeah?" You can't fight the smile as he takes your hands. You squeal as he pulls you up into his arms, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kisses your cheek, 

"You know that if I could choose one thing to do outside of quarantine it would be to marry your fine ass. That hasn't changed and I don't think that this fucking shit should take over. We still have that love for each other and I think we should still go through with it around the time we said we were going through with it." Tom explains. You nod as he rubs your arms, 

"Me too. I think it's a really good idea." He smiles and nods, 

"And the best thing is that... bullshit thing you'd said about spending all that money on that dress for a one time wear will go out that window because I'll pay for another big ass wedding when we can have one." Tom reassures. You nod, laying your head against his shoulder as he sways you. He holds you close, eyes closing in peace now that he knows he can at least give you somewhat of that fairytale wedding you planned. 

Neither you or Tom could deny that the excitement of your backyard wedding was getting overwhelming just as the idea of your actual wedding had. Tom had added a few more people to your guest list to include his parents, Paddy, Sam, and Elysia and your parents were set up to facetime you and watch you marry your fiancé from a different country. In that time, Tuwaine had acquired his officiant license and had printed off a marriage certificate to ensure your legal anniversary was April 11th. You had helped pick out a tux to wear and reached an agreement with Harrison that Tom would use his room to get ready so you could maintain the secrecy of your dress, hair, and makeup. The last of Tom's endeavors was picking up the colorful bouquet from the florist, handing it to his mother who followed Elysia towards your bedroom to help with hair and makeup. The last of your priorities was discussing your want for his father to walk you down the aisle for the full feel, the group setting up an arch Tom's parents already had in the backyard of their own to give the pictures Harry agreed to take, a better look. The only thing agreed upon when it came to picture taking was it remained strictly after the ceremony, the both of you wanting everyone to enjoy the ambiance and not worry about what jobs they're supposed to be doing. 

Sam, Paddy, Tuwaine, Tom, Harry, Harrison, and Dom had spent the time setting chairs up, decorating the arch in things you'd already bought for the wedding, each man doing their fair share of trying to calm Tom of his nerves but nearly to no avail. By four o'clock, he's standing before the arch with Tuwaine who continues to try and calm him. Nikki and Elysia exit the back door, Tom's eyes drawn to the inside of your house. Once he sees movement, his heart skips a beat and you, in all of your beauty, emerge, arm looped in Dom's as he escorts you towards his son and your future husband. You smile when you catch his eye, gripping your bouquet tight in your hand. Dom pauses, snapping to relinquish Tessa, basket handle held in her mouth which contains your rings. Each of the family members laugh, including Tom who crouches and greets the puppy in the pinkish white dress he'd bought her a few years ago. He has her sit as Harry, having already connected his phone to your Bluetooth speaker, begins to play "Canon In D" and the rest of the group stands to welcome you out,

"Deep breath. Last thing I need is you passing out before I get you there." Dom jokes as you begin walking, ivory heels sinking into the grass beneath your feet, something you hadn't planned on dealing with when it came to your originally planned wedding. You smile up at him, holding his bicep tighter and taking breaths to calm your pounding heart. Nikki catches your eye, iPad with your parents smiling widely from their living room back home in hand. Her smile matches, the same as Sam, Paddy, Elysia, Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine as Tom stares you down. The image of him is seared into your brain, tears in his eyes and it's everything you've imagined it'd be, of course under different circumstances. Dom pauses just before Tom, you fiancé stepping forward to take your hand from his father,

"Who gives this woman to this man in marriage?" Tuwaine asks, Tom and Dom meeting eyes before his father speaks, 

"I do." Dom says, leaning in to kiss your cheek and pat Tom on the shoulder before he takes your bouquet and joins Nikki. Tom helps you stand across from him, finally on cement again,

"You look beautiful darling." He mutters, 

"Thank you. You cleaned up nice yourself." You reply. Tuwaine clears his throat as Tom rubs his thumbs across your knuckles, 

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Thomas Stanley Holland and Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N in marriage. Not only have all of us witnessed the love and dedication the two have for each other, but we shall all feel privileged knowing they chose us to witness the matrimony these two shall embark on. We have watched both grow and thrive and mature in the company of each other and now we are blessed to watch them grow further as husband and wife, as one entity." You smile at Tom who takes a deep breath at Tuwaine's introduction. Tuwaine pauses for a moment before he begins again, with the readings, 

"You each chose a quote. So Y/N chose, from Maya Angelou, 'Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps, hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.' Tom, you chose, from George Eliot, 'What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?'" Both quotes had been made for you it seemed. There were so many things within the relationship that proved to be a hurdle for the both of you. Tom obviously traveled a lot with his job, and you had to deal with the distance for long periods of time, both as his girlfriend and fiancée. The facetime calls killed you and your heart hurt daily until you were with him again. And when you were, it was freeing. No matter how long you'd been apart, Tom always came back and you were always together and back to being in love like he never left,

"Now, you both have prepared vows. We'll do those now," Tuwaine remarks and Sam stands to hand both folded papers over, "Y/N, read yours first." You unfold the paper, heart pounding at the vows you'd prepared months in advance and had recently edited to fit the current circumstances. You clear your throat, 

"Tom, my love, my light. You have always been my rock at both my best and my worst, through everything. You have always pushed me to be the best version of myself that I could be and you've always been the most wise and selfless person in my life. My love for you is immeasurable and I have never been able to imagine my life without you and your happy, carefree, charisma, spunk in my life. I've been infatuated and in love with you for years and I've always known, for as long as I can remember, that I've wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, just the two of us being in love. As my husband, I promise to stay the same crazy person you agreed to date all those years ago. I promise to continue to annoy the hell out of you, cling to you in the morning when you try and get up, stick my cold feet and hands on your bare skin, and ruin your tea every once in a while, sometimes on purpose, sometimes on accident," Tom laughs, sniffling back his tears, "but more than anything, as your wife I promise to always be your quarantine buddy and I promise to always love you unconditionally and make you as happy as I can and at least pretend to love the same things you do just to listen to you ramble in the adorable way you always do." You finish, reaching up to dab the tears away. Tom's laughter dies down and he clears his own tears away, the rest of the group doing the same as you fold the paper back up. Tom smiles, staring down at you with such adoration in his eyes. Tuwaine allows a brief pause before turning to his friend,

"Now Tom, will you please read your vows to Y/N?" The brunette nods, unfolding his own sheet of notebook paper and clearing his throat, 

"I don't know that mine are that good but uhm... I tried." He mutters, laughing along with you and the family. He purses his lips for a moment before clearing his throat again, licking his lips and his eyebrows knit together for a moment, 

"Y/N, the love of my life, my biggest supporter, and my confidante, I have never loved anyone more than I have loved you and I have never been loved by someone like you. My biggest regret will always be not giving you the wedding you so obviously deserve even though I've promised to throw you the biggest reception ever once the world starts spinning again," you giggle, clearing your tears again, "you have always stuck with me, through thick and thin, through terrible time differences and long months apart only to welcome me back like we've just paused time. You're compassionate, beautiful, funny, and so silly and I have never had a dull moment with you and I know I never will. My promise to you, as your husband, is that I'll never make life boring. I'll always be your rock, I'll always give your life meaning the way you've done for me, and I'll always make sure you know how loved you are. No matter how many times we fight and how stupid those fights are. And no matter what, there is no one I would rather marry during quarantine than you. I would do anything for you, both before and even more so after quarantine and making you happy in any way I can is what I'll always do. I love you." He finishes, sniffling and folding his vows back up to tuck in his inside pocket,

"I love you too." You whisper as he takes your hands again. There isn't a dry eye in the house, not even Tuwaine who, from the beginning has watched and listened to one of his best friends fall in love with you and now he has the privilege of watching it come to fruition. He was given the privilege of marrying the two of you in an equally as beautiful as your original, backyard wedding. He sniffles himself before looking down at the pages he holds, 

"Alright, now the exchange of rings. Tom, please find Y/N's ring and put it on her as you say the following phrase." Tom nods, kneeling to fish the beautiful diamond ring he’d proposed to you with, from Tessa's basket, patting her head before he stands and looks at the paper in Tuwaine’s hands, clearing his throat again. He takes your hand again, staring up into your eyes as he starts,

“Y/N, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. As it encircles your finger, may it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love." He repeats the phrase from the paper, glancing up into your eyes again as he slides the ring all the way onto your finger, licking his lips. Tuwaine allows another pause before he turns to look at you, 

“And now Y/N, the same.” He commands, waiting until you retrieve Tom’s ring to hold the page out to you,

“Tom, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. As it encircles your finger, may it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love.” You relay to the man across from you, a smile crossing his features. He knows what follows and it’s surreal knowing that it’s happening. He’s marrying you, the love of his life, in his garden and life can’t get much better. Tuwaine turns his page,

“Now, by the power vested in me, you may kiss your bride.” He directs Tom’s way. His dark brown eyes meet yours before he steps forward, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other reaching up to caress your cheek before he leans in to kiss you, your own arms looping under his. The crowd around you claps as Tom kisses you, leaning you back just the smallest bit before he leans back himself, pressing his forehead to yours and smiling, kissing you once more before he stands back and glances up at Tuwaine, smiling down at the two of you,

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stanley and Y/N Y/M/N Holland.” Tuwaine hollers as both sets of parents, Tom’s siblings, Tom’s best friend and Elysia all cheer and Tom thrusts your hand, wrapped in his, up in victory. He glances over at you, smile wide across his face as he leans in one last time to kiss you and Harry plays the song you set to walk back down the aisle to, Tom leading you with your hand in his back inside the house. Once inside, he squeals, pulling you in,

“You do realize we just got married right? Like… you’re Mrs. Holland now. As you should have been two weekends ago.” Tom reminds. You giggle and nod, glancing down at the ring on your finger,

“Yes I do. I love you more than anything.” You tell Tom who holds your waist as you lean in for yet another kiss, your family entering the back doors. Each of them beeline to congratulate you, each of them dishing out hugs and kisses, the girls asking to see the ring on your finger. You take the iPad from Nikki's hands, greeting your parents and showing them the wedding ring on your finger. They ask for Tom who presses a hand to your lower back, greeting them cheerfully and thanking them as they dish out congratulatories, 

"Right," Tuwaine's voice booms out over the chatter. He looks between you and Tom, holding up a piece of paper, "Pardon the interruption, but I need bride, groom, and two witnesses to make it official, official." He remarks. Tom wraps his arm around your waist as you hand Nikki back the iPad, 

"So... who do you reckon is lucky enough to be our official witnesses?" He whispers in your ear. You sigh, 

"I dunno. Uhm... your mom and... your best friend?" You pose quietly as to not offend anyone. He smiles and reaches out to fluff your hair with a smile, 

"I think that's a good idea," he turns to the group, "mum, Haz... will you guys... be our witnesses?" Tom asks. You see the devotion, the adoration and respect in Harrison's bright blue eyes as a smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. He nods, 

"I'd be honored." He mutters, Nikki reaching out to rub your arm once she's handed the iPad to Dom, 

"Me too." She smiles wider as you and Tom follow Tuwaine to the dining room table, watching him lean in to sign the marriage certificate,

"First the officiant signs it, and then the two witnesses." He explains, handing the pen to Nikki. She smiles as she leans in and signs the paper, passing the pen to Harrison all while Harry is snapping photos. He snaps at you and Tom, 

"Lets get some pics of just you two outside with the arch." He says. You nod, taking Tom's hand and following the two boys outside and up to the arch, Tom's arm wrapping around your waist again. He sighs, 

"Nice day for a wedding, ay darling?" He jokes. You giggle and nod, leaning up to kiss him softly as Harry's camera clicks, your eyes darting between Tom's, 

"It's the perfect day for a wedding cutie." 

You watch through the back door as the boys play the same game they'd been obsessed with for months. You roll Tom's fingers in your own, tucking the blanket under your chin further. Tom sighs beside you, pressing his lips into your hair, 

"Darling?" You hum an answer, glancing up at your husband when he doesn't respond. His dark eyes find yours after another moment, 

"Are you happy?" He asks. Your eyebrows furrow, 

"What do you mean T?" He shrugs, threading his fingers through yours while you're preoccupied,

"I just mean... two months ago we watched this virus roll in and we never thought it would get this bad to the point we'd be spending every waking moment in this house with three other men and that it'd result in a wedding we were so excited to plan and see through and it wasn't... exactly what we planned, but, I dunno, I just mean, are you happy with what we had here today?" He elaborates, glancing back up at the stars that sparkle above you both from the place in your hammock. You linger in the silence for another moment before you shift to place your hand over Tom's beating heart, 

"Do you remember... that Jared commercial we saw the other night?" You ask. His eyes half roll as he thinks, teeth chewing the inside of his cheek and then he nods, 

"Yeah, the one with the virtual weddings?" He asks. You nod, 

"Do you remember what it said and how you nudged me to get the point of it all?" You pose. He nods,

"Yeah." You nod once more, 

"You did it because the point of that commercial is that it doesn't matter about the dress, or the cake, or the guest list or how formal everything is. What matters is the love the two people getting married have for each other, especially during trying times like now." You remind him. He smiles, playing with your hair, 

"Right." You rub his chest,

"Whether I married you today in our back yard with all of the things we have from our wedding or I marry you in August back in our venue with new stuff doesn't matter because it isn't the date that matters, it's you and me and how we show we love each other." His smile is bright as he squeezes your fingers between his. You sigh, 

"I could have married you in that dress in there with fifty people and a cake and a vibrant bouquet and all that in April or I could have married you in a trash bag in the middle of August with dead flowers and it would not have changed my love for you Tom." You reassure. He reaches out with his opposite hand to tuck hair behind your ear, 

"So you're happy?" He reiterates. You giggle, nodding and situating yourself to rest your head further up Tom's shoulder,

"Extremely. And always with you." He leans in to kiss you softly, 

"Me too love. My vows were 100% from my heart. I've never loved anyone like you and I would do whatever it takes to make sure you understand that." 

"I do. Mine were honest too. No matter what the problem, no matter how tired you are, you've always been there for me. I have never, ever been more in love with someone and I don't wanna know anything else. Of course... I've been down because I'm in a house with four guys and I don't get to have my fairytale wedding and honestly, we'd be looking for our own place, just the two of us but... I loved today. Our family and friends, my dress, my bouquet, my beautiful fiancè. I'm more than happy Tom." You explain to him. He strokes your hair down, leaning in to kiss you once more, 

"I love you more than anything Y/N." He says softly. You smile, reaching up to rub your thumb across his cheek,

"I love you too Tom," you hold your hand up, brandishing the wedding ring on your finger, "for life now. I've got you." You tell him. He chuckles, 

"Forever and always love. Now when we... get back to the world we'll get our own place, I promise, and... soon enough, we'll be tryin for some beautiful babies." 

"Slow your roll Holland, we gotta get outta this damn house first. And having a kid isn't our first priority once we do get our place." You jokingly scold. Tom chuckles, smile fading after a moment and he frowns,

"We aren't... going to wait til we move out to consummate our marriage are we?" He poses. You giggle, 

"I hadn't planned on it, no." 

"Oh thank god." He mutters, the both of you relaxing against each other, staring up at the stars for a moment longer. He sighs, fingers nonchalantly rubbing up and down your arm. He hums before pressing his lips into your hair again, 

"Happy anniversary love." He mutters. You glance up at him again, smile widening, 

"About damn time Mr. Holland." He chuckles again, 

"And now, every April 11th, for the rest of our lives, we'll be reminded of the day we got married in our backyard." He says. You lay your head against his shoulder, 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." You admit. His lips press to your forehead, 

"Me neither darling, me neither." He mumbles, wrapping his arm tight around you. And the uncertainty you had felt weeks ago when your wedding was forced to be cancelled, was gone now that you were in the arms of Tom. Not only your rock, but your husband. Now and always.

Permanent Taglist: @embrace-themagic​ @t-holland​ @spiderman-n @winters-beauty​ @smexylemony @lolabean1998​ @musiclover1263​ @xxtomxo​ @chillinjules​ @sincerelyfan​ @srh5605​ @justkeepdreaminganddreaming​ @spnobsessedmemes​ @hazmyheart​ @saltysebastianstan​ @petty-geminii @motherhyuckerdude @counting-eyerolls​ @princezzariel​ @martinimendes @happytappy02 @lilya-petrichor​ @20coldhearts​ @random-fandomer​ @kalliria @imtajah @celinelopez3 @itsjusttor​ @popluckbih​ @obsidianspidey @takemetooneverlanddd​ @marshyrebelcloud​ @zabdisamor​ @hollandstea​ @marvelismylifffe​ @loveylangdon​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @bangtan-serendipity​ @peterbeterbarker @bonfirelohve @meg-holland​ @localfangirlx​ @turtlee-says-rawr​ @sadbitchfangirl @th0ttie4tommy​ @w-jhxk-yj @thatweirdomimic @mytonycinematicuniverse​ @chances-and-miracles​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @liberty01​ @hatterripper31​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @cassiopeiaskies​ @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory​ @deviilsangel​ @peterspideysense​ @mariejulianposts​ @hannahholland1811​ @jackiehollanderr​ @peterparkerbabyyy @artsyle​ @unbelievableholland​ @hollandjmc​ @lmao-whats-up​ @jbchrisevans​ @biebsmylife95​ @chaoticcheesecaketyrant​ @keithseabrook27​ @palereblogs @sovereignparker​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @readersoftomorrow @spideynut​ @hardcorefanofeverything​ @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @softholand​ @gab-bones​ @emistrash​ @quaksonhehe​ @yoinkyourheart​ @supernaturalwriter24​ @ohh-anna @myfinalwords​ @cosmicholland​ @sleepyhollands​ @peterquillzsblog​

Tom Holland Tags: @mariejulianposts @hollandjmc​ @lmao-whats-up​ @keithseabrook27​ @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @cosmicholland​

[yikesharringrove]

I both really want to read a conversion camp fic and really fucking DONT lol but I trust you to do it well and not absolutely destroy us so... I am asking for you to write the conversion camp fic please.

Oh, my plan is to absolutely destroy you all with this one.

This is modern bc it wasn’t gonna be but then I wrote a part and it kinda had to be lol

TW: religion, homophobia, transphobia (nd Steve), conversion camp, anxiety, depression, physical abuse, the word r*pe is thrown around, suicidal ideations, basically, it’s a DOOZY

Seriously, this shit gets DARK. I have A LOT of untapped emotions.

But it has a happy ending, don’t worry

-

Steve’s hands were shaking as they dug through his bag.

They had already pulled out the eyeshadow palette he had tried to sneak in, needed something to make himself feel okay in this inevitable Hell.

“Did you receive our guidelines?” They had found the lipstick he had shoved in one of his shoes. “We specifically outlined prohibited items.” He took a shaky breath. “Your perversion is much deeper than anticipated, Mr. Harrington.” He just nodded.

He was shuffled about, led to a cold blank room.

His first meeting with a conversion specialist.

“What is your infatuation with women’s things?” The man’s voice made Steve feel like there was cold water dripping down his back.

“I just like pretty things.”

“Why do you deny your manhood?”

“I don’t.”

“You say that, but you do. Every time you pretend you’re a woman-”

“I don’t pretend I’m a woman. I just like makeup and stuff.” He gave Steve a disgusted look.

“By denying your true self, you have turned your back on God. You have allowed the devil to infiltrate your soul, to convince you that these perversions are okay.” He looked down at the paper in his lap, the forms Steve had been forced to sit and fill out with his parents. “You were not close with your father, were you?”

“Um, no. Not really.”

“So you pushed away your male role model?”

“He pushed me away, more like.” The man pursed his lips.

“A father does not push away his son unless there is something evil within him. A father can always tell when there is something wrong, something disgusting in his offspring.” He stood up, towering over Steve.

“You are disgusting, Steven Harrington. You are perverse and foul. You turn your back on your Creator. But you are not without a savior. You can be saved. Denounce the devil that tempts you to this life. Follow your savior, and He will lead you to safety.” He held out his hand. Steve took a breath, and shook it.

-

Steve’s first day was a fucking nightmare.

He was led to his room, a small room with two bunked beds and no doors. He was told he’d have three roommates, and if they were caught touching one another, the punishment would be painful.

And then it was group therapy.

He sat in a circle with ten of the other boys from the program. They were forced to discuss every attraction they had ever felt to anyone besides women. They were forced to discuss sexual encounters they had had with men, and call themselves disgusting.

And as it was Steve’s turn, and he talked about wearing panties, and fingering himself, and sucking Tommy’s dick, and he felt disgusting.

At dinner he met one of his roommates, and his heart sank.

“Where’d they scrape you up?” The guy was fucking gorgeous.

“Indiana.”

“And you just a homo? Or...?” The guy’s voice trailed off as he looked Steve up and down. “You one a’ them crossdressers, too?” Steve flushed deeply.

“How, how did you know?”

“Because you look like they got to you already. Means they got something on you. Make you feel real bad about yourself.”

“How, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough. Seen plenty a’ boys come and go. Some cured, some just a lost cause.” He was so nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Why, why so long?” He grinned at Steve, sharp and beautiful.

“Because I’m immune, Pretty Boy.” Steve’s breath hitched. The guy licked over his teeth. “Can’t beat the gay outta me if they tried. And they fuckin’ have.”

“But why, why don’t you want to change? I mean, they’re, they’re right.” His blue eyes went cold.

“They got you deep. Damn, you might be the quickest turn around I’ve ever seen.”

“I just, I don’t want to be wrong anymore.” He leaned closer to Steve.

“You have never been wrong.” Steve felt like he was gonna cry.

A firm hand clapped down on Steve’s shoulder.

“William, I hope you’re treating our new guest nicely.” William’s face fell immediately.

“Yes, Father.” Steve looked up to see a priest holding onto him. His hair was greying and neat. His eyes were cold and dead.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take Steven with me.” Steve followed him, eyes downcast, all the way to his office. “Steven, my name is Father Andrew. I’m here to help you.” Steve didn’t like his smile. “We’re going to meet everyday at 8:30 pm for your therapy.”

He pulled out a folder from the bottom drawer of his desk. He placed a photograph in front of Steve with a flourish.

It was porn.

It was fucking gay porn.

He stood in front of Steve, leaning against the desk, off to the side of the image.

“Tell me what you see here.” One of the men had dark hair. He was being taken from behind by the other man, his blond hair and bright eyes stirred something in Steve.

“Two men. Having sex.”

He didn’t see Father Andrew’s hand, just heard the crack of it against his cheek.

His eyes watered, his cheek burned.

“What do you see?”

“Two perverts.”

“What are they doing?”

“Defiling one another.”

“Good, Steven. You’re learning.”

He placed another photograph down. This time, the man being fucked had a full face of makeup, tears making the dark eyeliner run as he was on his back, hands cuffed to the bed. The man fucking him was smirking at the camera, tongue between his teeth.

“How does this make you feel?”

“Disgusted.”

“Why?”

“That they, they would touch each other like that.”

“Do you have fantasies like this? Of being tied up by another man? Raped by another man?”

And the answer, the answer was technically yes. He had plenty of fantasies of being tied up, taken rough, taken dirty.

But rape. That’s a strong fucking word.

“No, Father.” Another crack. Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“I, I don’t want to be, to be raped.” Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“Yes, yes Father. I have had fantasies.”

“These are not fantasies, these are perversions planted in your mind by demons, by the devil trying to pull you away from Christ our Lord. Do not let these demons lead you astray.”

He pulled out another picture.

Steve’s heart fucking stopped.

It was a picture of himself. A nude he had taken for Tommy.

He was wearing pretty lingerie, pouting to the camera. He remembers taking it, remembers putting on his makeup, posing over and over until he took one he liked. They must’ve gone through his phone, through his texts.

“Why do you dress like a woman?”

“Be-because I’m disgusting.” And the thing is, Steve had been told plenty of times that day that he’s disgusting, and he had begun to believe it.

“Good, Steven. You are disgusting. Do you believe you’re a woman?”

“No, Father.”

“Then why have you been experimenting with women’s things?”

“I believed I wasn’t a man.”

“And are you a man?”

“Yes, Father.”

“God made you a man.”

“Yes, Father.” Steve still didn’t like his smile.

He switched the image.

And it was another one of his nudes. This time he was in a skirt, kneeling with his back to the mirror, one hand spreading his cheeks, showing off the silver plug in his ass.

He even remembers the text he had sent with it.

Tommy had been studying for a test, so Steve sent that picture and said but im lonely :( and Tommy had replied I’ll be there in twenty.

“Why do you have an obsession with your anus?” Steve could feel the blood drain from his face.

“I, uh, it feels good.” Another slap.

“How does spitting in the face of your Heavenly Father feel good, Steven? Sodomy does not feel good.” Another slap. Steve’s face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m sorry, Father. I am vile, and disgusting.” Steve was sobbing, felt so fucking pathetic, trying to look anywhere but the printed image of himself.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. I expect you here tomorrow after dinner.”

Steve fucking ran back to his room.

The other boys were asleep. He climbed into the top bunk, curling into himself.

He felt disgusting, he felt foul and wrong and bad.

He tried to stifle his sobs into his pillow, the scratchy case muffling his panic attack.

“Hey, Stevie.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quiet.” There was a sigh, breath fanning over his face.

And then the boy from earlier was swinging himself into bed with him, curling against him.

“They said-”

“I know exactly what times they patrol. I’ll leave your bed before then.” He sighed. “First night’s always the hardest. You just gotta get through. Tell them what they wanna hear, but remember that they’re fucking wrong. You are valid, and real. Being gay is not disgusting.”

Steve curled into him, letting himself be comforted.

“Thank you. Thank you, William.”

“Oh, Christ. Call me Billy.”

“Thank you, Billy.”

-

As time passed, it was easy to retreat into himself.

He met with Father Andrew every night, got slapped and hit when his answers weren’t condemning enough.

But each night, Billy would crawl into bed with him, would hold him when he broke down.

The kiss was inevitable.

It happened after Steve had an extreme day, the beating he received when he had admitted to being nonbinary, that he had asked his friends at home to use other pronouns.

And Billy had said you’re perfect the way you are, Sweet Thing.

And Steve kissed him.

And Steve wanted to die.

-

“Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned.” Steve took a shaking breath.

He was kneeling in the small confessional.

They had Mass every three days, and confession each Friday.

“It has been one week since my last confession.” He took a deep breath. He needed to get this of his chest, needed to get the punishment he deserved. “Father, I, the feelings have not gone away. There is, there’s a boy, and I, I love him. And I try not to. I try not to look at him, to remember the devil is leading me astray. But Father, I think about him. I think about him often.”

“This is an extremely grievous sin, my son.”

“I know, Father. Please help me. I want to, I want to be pure. To be free of this sin, this temptation.”

“I offer, as penance for your sins, to pray a rosary for each time you have had an evil thought about your fellow man this week. As you ponder the Mysteries of the rosary, consider how God created you, how Jesus died for you, and you wipe your feet on their love.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And our meeting will be arduous tonight, Steven.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Now please, recite the Act of Contrition.”

Steve’s hands shook as he recited the prayer, finishing his confession with Father Andrew.

-

“Now, Steven. You discussed having impure thoughts today.”

Steve’s knees ached from praying the rosary so many times earlier today. He hadn’t eaten, had gone straight to the Chapel after his confession.

He wanted to pray, to cleanse himself.

And he didn’t want to risk seeing Billy.

“Yes, Father.”

“And you mentioned that you love another boy.”

“The devil is trying to make me think it’s love.” Father Andrew smiled his empty smile down at Steve.

“That’s right Steven. Because love cannot exist between two men. Love is a beautiful thing created and given to us by The Lord God.” Father Andrew leaned over Steve, made him shrink back in his seat. “Which is why you are unlovable as you are. You are foul and vile. You may be loved if you change.”

He grabbed Steve’s hair, holding his head still as he slapped his face.

And Steve let him.

He was foul, he was vile.

He deserved the pain.

-

Two months.

That’s how long it took Steve to “graduate”.

He left the facility in clean khakis, a nice sweater his mother had sent him to wear home.

Billy had left a week and a half prior.

He was deemed a lost cause.

Steve’s mother was there to pick him up, hugged him tight and told him how happy she was that he was fixed.

He was quiet as they drove, watching the shadows the summer sun cast on the side of the plain flat road.

“Your father will be pleased. You’ve made such wonderful progress. Free of all those delusions.”

They passed Tommy’s house.

He felt sick.

-

The first thing Steve did when he got home was destroy all his make up.

He took everything feminine from it’s hiding spot in the back of his closet.

He scraped out the eye shadow, smeared the lipstick all over his dresses.

He cut up his lingerie, shoved everything into a black garbage back, driving into town to toss it in the dumpster behind the gas station.

He wanted it away, he wanted it gone. He wanted to be pure.

-

His hands shook as he zipped up the suitcase.

He didn’t have much in there, was planning on taking enough to get him through a little while, then maybe buying some things, some pretty things.

His parents were asleep downstairs, he was planning on being long gone by the time they woke up.

He put on his backpack, taking his wallet and tiptoeing down the stairs, his shoes in his hand.

He had a plan, would drive to the bus station, leave his car there.

Someone will find it, and at that point, he’ll be long gone.

He bought a bus ticket to Chicago, paid in cash and gave a fake name.

He was fucking out of here.

They were fucking out of here.

-

“As I live, and fucking breathe.”

Steve startled as a hand came down on their shoulder.

They startled again when they turned around, came face to face with a ghost from the past.

“B-Billy?” Billy’s hair was longer than it had been at the camp. His smile was lazier, his eyes brighter. Steve’s gut gave an excited little flutter as he looked them up and down.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous, Pretty Boy.” Steve flushed, adjusting their dress. It was new.

It had been three years since the camp. One year of Steve living in pain, until they packed their shit, and moved to the Golden Coast. They left in the middle of the fucking night, ran away like a scared child, never looking back.

And here was the love of their goddamn life, in some hole in the wall coffee shop in San Fransisco.

“It’s uh, it’s not Pretty Boy, anymore.” Billy’s grin got even wider.

“Thank fuck.” He swung himself into the seat across from Steve’s, upsetting some of the papers they were working on.

“What happened to you, Billy?” Billy’s smiled slipped, just a little.

“My dad was tired a’ paying for that joint if I wasn’t getting better. So he said if I wasn’t fixed in like, a month, he would stop paying, and I would be kicked out. Stayed true to his word. Haven’t seen the bastard since.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Getting kicked outta that place is the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I graduated. Went through the whole thing. Took me a year to realize how fucked up it was.”

“Jesus. They got you deep.” Steve shrugged.

“I’m okay now.”

“Yeah? What’re you doin’?”

“Goin’ to school. Gonna be a counselor. Hopefully work in an elementary school, or something.” Billy’s eyes were bright.

“That’s amazing. Gonna tell all the little queer kids that they’re valid and all that?”

“That’s the goal.” Billy grinned. “What are you doing now? You with anyone?”

“I own a bar, actually. Kind of a dive, but it’s a good time.” He looked at Steve through his lashes. “You should come by, sometime. Be good to see you.”

“I’d like to see you too.”

“And to answer your question, I’m not with anyone. Not right now.” He smirked. “But I could be.” He leaned over the table, drawing one finger down Steve’s hand. “I like seeing you happy. Feel like I only ever saw you cryin’ in that joint.”

“Well, spent a lot of time crying there.”

“For good reason.” Billy took their hand. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Y’know I told Father Andrew I was in love with you. Got beat black and fuckin’ blue for it.” Billy’s face was grave.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Wanted to be fixed. Took me a year to realize I didn’t need that.”

“You stop lovin’ me in that year?”

“Not even in the two after that.” Billy took a shaking breath.

“You know, I uh, I love you too. Always did. It broke my fucking heart to leave you in that place. Was gonna wake you up that night, get you to run away with me. But they took me out, uh, forcibly.”

“Bet you put up a real good fight.”

“Broke Father Ryan’s nose.” Steve let out a burst of laughter, clapping one hand over their mouth.

“I was wondering about that. He had a splint for like, a month.”

“Yeah, well, bastard kept tryin’ to exorcise me. Headbutted him right in the face.”

“Good for you, Bill. Sometimes I wish I could light the whole place on fire.”

“Me too.” Billy took their hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I gotta head, but I wanna see you. Soon. Later today, if you can.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m just doing some homework, but I could stop by the bar tonight? I don’t have shit to do tomorrow.”

“Lemme pick you up. We can go to dinner before I take you to the bar.” They smiled softly at him.

“I’d like that.”

[vtforpedro]

LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Coming Clean

You lost contact with your good friend Sebastian and went through the hardest year of your life. When he comes back, it’s time to come clean about what happened to you.

           TW: Suicide, self-harm, depression.  

-

           A year ago, you were as happy as you’d ever been. You had your friends and your family and you were happy. You loved the work you were doing, you loved everyone around you, and you loved that things were finally working out for you. It was the last night of shooting before Sebastian went back to New York and you were sitting there, in Griffith Park, just hanging out. The house you were renting was just at the top of the hill so you’d made him walk down with you to watch the sunset and you were sitting there, talking.

           “No, no, no, I mean, this guy was, like, super fuckin’ out of it, right? So of course I was like, I’ll help you, just give me a minute…” You were laughing at Sebastian’s college stories and comparing them to yours, since you’d only graduated a few months before starting to film the movie you were working on. You were sitting together on top of one blanket and underneath another, almost touching but not quite, and you’d brought a six pack down to drink. You were feeling warm and courageous enough to flirt with him a little. Even though you were much younger than him, it was just funny to see how flustered he got.

           You talked until 2 AM, when Sebastian’s phone told him that he had a flight in eight hours. He walked you back up to your house and herded you into bed before leaving himself. That was the last time you saw him for that year. And that was also one of the last nights when you remembered being truly happy.

           Things started to go downhill as soon as you finished the movie. Your parents were abusive as hell, so when you stopped renting the house and went back to them things got bad. You didn’t have enough money to buy anything for yourself, and you were filming every which place. You felt like you didn’t have a home. You felt like you didn’t have a family. And contact between you and Sebastian and your other friends was so few and far between that asking them for anything, even a conversation, felt like too much.

           You tried not to let it interfere with your work. You showed up on time, always, even if you had to go take a nap in your trailer because you were too tired. You only ever told your director if you were trying a new medication and that was why you would act odd sometimes. And you’d never, ever considered hurting yourself before. You always said that you were too scared, you were scared of what other people would think, and you never thought you could let yourself get to that point.

           And then you did. You had a break from filming and you’d moved in on your own and it proved to be more difficult than you thought it would be. You were just so fucking lonely, all the time. You felt like nobody loved you, nobody wanted you, and you had no reason to keep going. It started out with just little things to hurt yourself. You’d skip a meal, or you’d keep hitting a bruise over and over. And then it got to where you were actually using a razor. And then you had one too many sleeping pills. Your roommate found you and then you were locked up for six months.

           When you got out of there, you weren’t magically cured, but you were so much better that you were ashamed of what you’d done and who you were. You made amends with everyone you could and they were all so happy that you were in a different place. You signed on to do a sequel to the movie you’d worked with Sebastian on and that was what you were dreading. You’d missed him, dearly. He was one of your favorite people you’d ever met. He was hilarious and kind and caring and you valued everything he said to you.

           You stepped foot on set that first morning, wondering when you’d have to come clean and tell him. Luckily your role required you to wear long sleeves most of the time or allowed you to cover everything up with makeup. You were beginning to think you were actually going to make it through filming without anyone knowing. You were hoping that you weren’t going to have to tell him, at least not now, when things were going good and you were better friends than ever. He’d asked you out to dinner and you’d accepted, and things just went from there.

           Three weeks later you were sitting in Sebastian’s rented apartment on the couch, leaning your head into his shoulder, and he took your hand. Your shirt had flowy sleeves that went down to your wrists, but they weren’t long enough, because eventually you could see that he was looking. Right at the small scar you’d done everything you could to get rid of. He looked at it, and then at you, and you sighed.

           “Y/n,” he said softly. You sat up a little and tried to unravel your hand from his, but he only held it tighter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

           “Tell you what?” He looked over at you with his big blue eyes and you couldn’t lie to him. You just couldn’t. “Seb…”

           “Why didn’t you tell me?” He let go of your hand but extended his arm behind your shoulders.  

           “Because,” you responded softly.

           “I asked for an explanation, not for you to stall.” You knew he didn’t mean to be rude, he just wanted to be direct, but you jumped anyway. He sighed. “Babe. It’s okay.”

           “No, it’s not.” Your voice cracked and you put your head in your hands, trying to find the best way to tell him. And then you realized - there was no good way to tell him. There was no good way to put it because it was terrible, awful, and you hated it.

           “It is. I just want you to talk to me. What happened?”

           “I just… lost my mind,” you started. He gave you a sideways smile.

           “Everyone loses their mind a little bit eventually.”

           “I actually lost it, though. I started hurting myself and I took sleeping pills and I was just… a different person for awhile. Nothing caused it, it just happened, and now I just don’t want to tell anybody about it because I’m scared people will judge me. I don’t even know how it got that bad, but… It did. And I didn’t want to tell you.” He sighed again, scratching at his stubble, trying to find something to say. He peeled your hands away from your face and took them in his.

           “I don’t even know what to say.”

           “Me neither.” You sniffled and he moved his hand to rub your arm, turning his head to the side and kissing your temple. “I was just scared you’d think I was crazy. Because I love being around you and I didn’t want to mess anything up by telling you that I was suicidal. And it’s not who I am anymore, but I’m scared that people will still think I’m crazy.”

           “Crazy is relative. You just had a shitty year.”

           “That’s one way to say it.” He chuckled a little, and it made you smile. His smile was so warm. “So you don’t think I’m a basket case?”

           “Nah. Thank you for telling me. I know it’s not easy to face that.”

           “No. And having to see it every day…”

           “Yeah, but you came out of it. It should be a reminder of what you survived, not what almost got you.”

           “I don’t feel much like a survivor or whatever.” A few tears came to your eyes and you wiped them away.

           “You never do. If you ever doubt that you are, come talk to me and I’ll tell you exactly why you should be proud of yourself.” His voice was soft as you leaned your head back into his shoulder. That was the end of the conversation then, but you didn’t bother to pull your sleeve down anymore. You just closed your eyes, leaned in, and took in your friend beside you, grateful that he was willing to listen.

           A/N: This is such a sensitive topic so I tried not to go too deep into anything, and I’m sorry it’s so short but I hope you like it! 

Taglist (if you’d like to be added, send me a message!): @winterreader-nowwriter

[trenchcoatkitten]

if you’re still doing the soft babies prompts, then either #22 for kiribaku or #11 for tododeku! (also FUCK that anon, you’re perfect okay and your writing gives me life and cures my depression)

#22 “Do you want to come into my blanket fort?” Kirishima / Bakugou

DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I WANTED SOMEONE TO PICK THIS PROMPT from this prompt post

and you picked krbk for it?? I love you I love you I LOVE YOU ohhhhhhh oooooooooooooohhhhhhh oHHHHHHHHHHHH HERE WE GO

also thank you : ‘ ) ily you’re the best omg

here’s tddk #11!

enjoy! 

xxx

Kirishima frowns at the wood grain on the door of Bakugou's room, wondering why he's having trouble knocking. He just wants... he doesn't know what he wants. It's weird – he feels like the things that might help him right now are not going to come from Bakugou. The guy is angry, frustrated, annoyed, short-tempered and mean. Kirishima needs... Kirishima needs a hug.

He should just go to Kaminari. Kaminari won't judge him, he won't demand to know what's wrong with him, he won't ask for answers that Kirishima can't give. Kirishima just wants... he just wants to be held.

He knows that Bakugou probably can't give that to him.

He wants Bakugou to give that to him – he wants to run his fingers through Bakugou's hair, he wants to press his lips against Bakugou's temples, he wants to have Bakugou wrap his arms around Kirishima's torso, he wants Bakugou to stare at him with that soft look that he holds between moments sometimes. There between one breath and the next, gone before anybody can react to it. He wants... he just wants Bakugou's soft sides. His tired moments, his quiet words, his sleepy mornings.

Of course that's not why Kirishima is feeling this way – he's just down today. Too much training, too little sleep, bad diet... He just needs a night to recharge and eat a bunch of damn candy and lay on his back and stare at the sky. He wants to do that with Bakugou, but the blond always always demands to know what's wrong with Kirishima. Like he isn't happy until he knows what's going on in Kirishima's head, like he isn't able to sit still until Kirishima spills all his secrets.

Well, all the secrets except one. Except how Kirishima feels about him.

He can't knock on the door. He can't. Bakugou will just want to know what's going on, and Kirishima honestly has no clue. He's just down and he has no reason for it. He just needs a night to recharge, and he doesn't know how to explain that to Bakugou in a way that the blond will understand.

He should leave. He's going to leave. He's just going to go to Kaminari's room, and they'll eat the candy that Kirishima has in his backpack and they'll just play video games and talk about nothing. It'll be fine. Kirishima wants Bakugou, but he can't have him, so he can be happy with just his friend. That can be fine.

He turns to leave, but at that moment the universe decides to say fuck you, Kirishima! and Bakugou's door opens.

The blond sees him and jumps about three feet in the air, and he plants his shoulder against the doorframe, holding the door on his other shoulder, like he's trying to keep Kirishima from seeing in. He's wearing pajamas – an old skull tee and a pair of flannel pants, and he glares at Kirishima.

“What are you doing here, Shitty Hair?” He spits. Kirishima goes red. No backing out now, Bakugou would just demand to know why he was standing at his door.

“Uh, I brought some snacks,” He says, lifting the bag and scratching the back of his neck, underneath his hair, which is down, smiling sheepishly. “I wanted... I don't know. Are you busy tonight?”

Bakugou studies him, lips pursed, eyes narrows. And Kirishima was right, Bakugou knows him and he's not satisfied with no answer, he says – “What's wrong with you?”

Kirishima gives him the best smile he can, and shrugs. “I dunno, man. I'm just... it's been a long week, I guess. Wanna eat snacks and play video games?”

Bakugou stares at him for a long moment, and Kirishima gets the distinct feeling that he's missing something. Bakugou looks... does he look... embarrassed?

“Your room,” Bakugou says, stepping out, keeping his door closed most of the way, like he's trying to keep Kirishima from looking into the room. Kirishima is excited – yes, he's happy Bakugou wants to hang out with him – but mostly, he's immediately intrigued.

“Why, you got a dead body in there or something?” Kirishima asks, and Bakugou makes an angry tch sound. “Should I check Midoriya's room to make sure he's still alive?”

Bakugou curls his lip. “No, I didn't kill anybody. I just... don't wanna hang out in my room.”

If Kirishima believed him – if he thought that it was really about Bakugou just not wanting to be in his room, if he thought that Bakugou just wanted to hang out in his room and it wasn't about something else, he'd totally drop it, he'd totally move on and say okay! And they'd go to his room and have a nice night. But instead, he widens his eyes, leaning his head to the side, trying to see in. Bakugou steps in front of him, angry. “Really?” Kirishima says.

Bakugou shoves an arm out to keep him from getting closer, closing the door behind him. “It's none of your business, Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima tries not to let this hurt him. He knows Bakugou. He knows that this is what he's like. He knows that he doesn't want to share, he doesn't want to open up, he's not really a fan of exposing himself, or his room, or his whatever. Kirishima knows that. He knows that he can't hope for too much, he can just keep picking at that wall, trying to break it down. And one day maybe he will. But that day's not today.

So maybe he's just a little pained when he says, “Okay, sorry, man. My room, then.”

Bakugou stares at him, nose wrinkled. He knows that it wasn't good, he knows that for some reason Kirishima is pulling away, that he was hurt by this. Kirishima knows Bakugou – he knows that Bakugou doesn't know what to say here. And that's not his fault. It's just how he is. And he's getting better – really, he is. It's just a slow process.

So Kirishima gives him a somewhat more convincing smile. “Come on, man, let's go to my room,” Cause after all, Bakugou is going to hang out with him, he's not just turning him away. He's not saying no, even though it's late, even though it seems that he knows that Kirishima's not going to be that much fun to hang out with.

But as Kirishima turns to head off towards his room, Bakugou catches him around the wrist. “Hang on, Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima pauses, and looks up at Bakugou. Bakugou isn't looking at him, instead he stares to the side, eyes narrowed, face flushed slightly. “Never mind. We can go in my room. Just... you're not allowed to fucking say anything, okay?”  

Kirishima raises his eyebrows. Not allowed to say anything? “Okay,” he promises. Bakugou flushes a little more, and, still holding Kirishima's wrist, kicks his door open like it's a challenge.

Kirishima stares into the room, eyes wide. There's... there's no way. He opens his mouth, and remembers his promise to not say anything, and closes it. He has a lot he wants to say, but he struggles to keep it all caged up behind his teeth. He bites down on his tongue as Bakugou refuses to make eye contact.

Still blushing, still looking embarrassed and annoyed and looking anywhere besides Kirishima, and still holding his wrist, Bakugou grumbles, “Do you want to come into my blanket fort?”

Kirishima needs to say something but he totally can't. He bites his lips, and gives Bakugou a grin. The blond flushes more and glares at him. “Heck yeah I do.”

“Bet your ass you do. It's a great fuckin' blanket fort,” Bakugou says, and he pulls Kirishima into the room, closing the door behind them. Kirishima is so glad he didn't go to Kaminari's room. They tuck themselves into Bakugou's blanket fort and eat snacks, throwing stuff back and forth and laughing and just recharging their batteries. Kirishima never wants to be anywhere else.

[angelicspaceprince]

Sunrise

Author: Ama

Title: Sunrise

Pairing: Beetlejuice/Reader

Character/s: Beetlejuice

Word Count: 1, 366 words

Warnings: Massive themes of suicide, death, depression, vague description of Beej's death

Prompt: You've been struggling for a while now and Beetlejuice knows that. But, it's not until he finds you standing on the roof that you finally let him know how serious things have become.

Notes: Me? Projecting onto a character? More likely than you think.

Massive themes of suicide, depression and death in this one kiddos. Ama is going through some shit and decided to share with the class. Please read only if you feel comfortable and safe to do so.

This is also a part of the Beetlejuice song challenge held by @foolurfriendsfunatparties and the song was What I Know Now

Sunrise

The house was quiet, too quiet, when Beej decided to visit his favourite breather. Usually, you'd have some form of noise in the background, music or the TV, Hell even just you talking to yourself about what you were planning to do. Helped keep the mind busy, distracted, which is what you needed at all times. So when he rocked up to your house and there was no sound, his first reaction was to panic. He knew you'd been going through some shit, but you had assured him that you'd be fine for the day as he went with Lyds to scout out colleges (or in his case, distract and beg her not to go), as the nearly eighteen-year-old was struggling with which ones to apply to.

He should have stayed, he realises as he rushes upstairs to check every room in the house, trying to see if you were there. The only thing that struck him odd was your bedroom window, which was a pain to open on any given day but especially now since it's freezing near-daily, was pushed wide ope-

The roof.

The demon is quick to make his way up, his body sagging slightly in relief when he sees your frame huddled on the flattest part of your roof, shivering and curled in a ball but very much alive. Beej is quick to retreat inside, grab the thickest blanket he could find and make his way back up onto the roof, you having moved to stand at the edge. He wills the panic off of his face and mood ring hair before walking up to you with a giant grin plastered on his face. "Hey babes! Whatchya doin' up here?" He'd make a wisecrack but his brain is so riddled with anxiety, he can't seem to think of one.

He pretends to not notice the flinch as you take a step back from the ledge of the roof, arms wrapped around you in an attempt to comfort yourself as well as contain heat, seeings you were out in the cold in just shorts and a sports bra. Odd choice considering the fact that you were complaining about the cold-snap this morning. Still, you're away from the edge. You sniff and attempt (and fail) to discreetly wipe away tears from your eyes. "Hey Beej. Thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow." You say lamely, ignoring his question as he comes up beside you to wrap the blanket around you. It's warm from being inside, and you can't help but tug it closer to you as Beej wraps his arm around you.

There is a moment's silence. "Were you gonna do it?" There is no question as to what he's referring to, so you just nod, wincing again when he sighs loudly. "Y/N-"

"No." You snap. Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare." You're shaking from both the cold and the anger. "You have no idea what it's like. None at all. You're dead! You have no idea what it's like to just be drained and cold and empty and to feel like you're just the tag-along, the sideliner, like you're useless and pathetic and disgusting all the fucking time."

"What do you think death is, babes?" He doesn't drop his arm, even though it's clear he's pissed. "Let me tell ya Y/N, it's not sunshine and rainbows. It's cold, damp, emptiness for eternity. Everything is muted, you know you feel emotions but you can't quite place them. Why do you think I wanna marry a breather so bad? Being dead is shit, every day it's like a walking curse where you are constantly drowning in everything and nothing." You stay quiet as he continues his rant. "If I knew then, Y/N, what I know now, there is no way in Heaven/Hell that I would have put that noose around my neck. I would have taken every moment, good and bad, and treasured every single fuckin' one." You can see out of the corner of your eyes that he's pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut with red, blue and purple threaded in his messy locks. "Don't I dare, no don't you dare tell me what it's like to feel like no one cares, because I do. And I know that it might not be enough but, fuck babes, it should count for something." If anyone asked him if he was crying, he'd deny it despite the tears beginning to fall no matter what he tells them.

You take a breath, feeling bad for snapping and unloading onto him. "I'm just so tired, Beej. I just wanna sleep." You confess quietly. "I just want it to stop hurting."

"I know, baby, I know." He tugs you in close. "But dyin' ain't gonna cure that. I promise you, it'll be much better for you to stick around until it's your time." You faintly feel him press a kiss to your temple as you continue to stare out into the street. "Wanna go inside?" You shake your head. 

"I want to stay out here for a while." You admit. "Stay?"

You didn't need to ask and he didn't feel the need to answer as he shuffles so he's holding you from behind, pulling you down to rest against his chest as he quickly pulls a hot water bottle out of thin air, made to never go cold, and placed it under the blanket and against you to keep you warm.

You stay silent for hours, just being held as Beej strokes at random parts of your body in an attempt to comfort, leaving you to your thoughts. When the sun finally comes out, rays of gold and pink peaking over the horizon does he finally talk. "How ya feelin'?"

You take a minute to respond. "Tired." You answer honestly. "I wanna go to bed now."

There is a faint sigh of relief. Beetlejuice knew that the problem wasn't solved and there were still a ton of issues that you needed to deal with, but at least you were safe for now. Wordlessly, he picks you up and carries you back inside and into bed, tucking you in and moving to go close the window when your ice-cold hand snatches out to grab his. "Don't leave me." Your voice is tired, it's never sounded so broken or weak before. "Please?"

He crouches down so you can see him at the side of the bed. "I'm not going anywhere babes." He promises firmly. "I'm gonna go close the window and then I'll be right by your side. Not even a minute." He waits for you to nod and let go of his hand before he walks over, forces the window down with a loud 'thud' before walking back, toeing off his boots and removing his clothes until he's in his boxers and shirt, finally sliding into bed behind you and pulling you close again. You shuffle back and turn so your head rests on his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly and yours wrapped around him.

"Thank you." You say quietly, both of you ignoring the hidden meaning. 'I'm sorry.'

"Of course." He replies. 'I don't blame you.'

Eventually, you fall asleep as the sun hits your bedroom wall and slowly starts to heat up the now frosty room, but Beej stays awake to try and process what just occurred. He knew, logically, that you were going to die someday but he wasn't going to sit around for you to off yourself before your time. Even if he had to sit through that again with you, he'd do it again in a heartbeat, just so you got to see one more morning. The world moves on around the both of you as you sleep, people waking up for work and school, preparing for another day. For them it's just another sunrise, just another day. But Beej knows that each one is special, because it's another day of being alive. And that's what you need to be. Alive.

For just another sunrise.

[rabbitindisguise]

*rubs temples* I'm so glad mental illness has become a bigger conversation that includes more people but god, if the cost is fielding well meaning people that think self depreciation is a sign of mental illness so severe that they Strongly Believe they need a therapist because those stupid fucking "if you stop saying mean things about yourself, you'll feel better!" posts . . . is it worth it? Is it really worth it.

CW: frank discussion of mental illness symptoms, mention of suicide and self harm

Because here's some actual symptoms to watch out for:

A suicide attempt (if they asked)

Fresh self harm injuries (if they asked)

Signs they point out and ask you to look for

Someone asking for help with their mental health

Someone going "I don't have any idea what could possibly be causing my low mood, lack of appetite, enjoyment of the world, and loss of interest in activities lasting several months" and asking for advice

That's it. Otherwise you need to learn to mind your business. Mentally ill people did not ask to be harassed for simply going out in the world as themselves. A mental illness isn't like . . . a discreet part of your personality that infects you that if you get rid of it, you'll be Normal. When I go from "being suicidal" and "not being suicidal" there is no change in my personality. (Example: I cope with my mental illness with reading and watching media, because I'm a writer, and that's how I process emotions- this is true regardless of if I'm miserable or happy. I've decided that media consumption is a sign that I'm doing well. Someone who hates violence who watches that kind of stuff in order to make themselves suffer because they feel bad they get squeamish during scary movies might decide that finding themselves turn to violent media is a sign they're not handling it well. Notice that no bystander is a part of these decision! And that mental illness isn't interchangeable!) Everyone has a base level "these are the circumstances in which life does not feel worth living" that's shaped by their wants, their needs, and their perceptions. Their reactions are shaped by who they are as a person.

Because here's the thing. Armchair diagnosis includes assuming someone is doing poorly, even if you already know they have depression. You don't know them. They might be doing great. The thing that is commonly an "unhealthy" coping mechanism might be a healthy coping mechanism for them- which is why I fuckin hate the un/healthy dichotomy, especially when it comes to behaviors that in no way diagnose mental illness whatsoever. That's like . . . asking someone with ADHD if their meds are working because they talk fast. It's incredibly offensive and ableist.

"Be willing to talk about depression" is supposed to be like, someone who's been on depression medication for years comes up to you like, "I have something to tell you" because they're sick of hiding pill bottles. It's voluntary self disclosure. It's outing yourself for visibility. It's being willing to hear someone say "I'm having a hard time and insurance is making it even harder." It's not an opportunity to assume you know the perfect CBT method to cure them. Because that's what these type of interactions imply. That you know better than the mentally ill person about their mental illness, and if they just listen, they'd be neurotypical.

I don't care if you're mentally ill yourself. Don't be a condescending asshole. You're not their therapist, and if you make it worse, they can't legally hold you liable for fucking over their mental health because of being guilted and shamed by people like you. A significant number of therapy appointments are therapists teaching mentally ill people not how to cope, but how to set boundaries between themselves and others close to them so that they can be mentally ill in peace. Mentally ill people deserve to be alive even if they're evil little gremlins that don't drink kale smoothies just because you read on the internet it can "help." Lots of things ""help"" but aren't worth the upkeep. Lots of things are also fucking ridiculous to recommend when it has no bearing on the situation whatsoever. I can rub my tummy for a stomachache, but that has fuck all to do with a sprained ankle. Depressed people aren't a monolith. Depressed people can have allergies to kale. (This is a metaphor I don't mean literally. Though this is also a true literal statement.)

It doesn't help that everyone who defends themselves from comments like these gets the whole "isn't taking care of themselves" spiel. What the fuck do you know? Do you have access to their therapy/medic/yoga plan? Do you have any training whatsoever? No? Then keep your thoughts to yourself. It should not be a move of a "bad" mentally ill person to reject the unqualified, uninformed, nonsensical opinions of strangers/acquaintances/friends/significant others/family as ultimately dangerous and/or obnoxious. In my book, that person is well informed of their needs and capable of setting boundaries, two important skills to have . . . which are more skills than repeating stuff you read on the internet in a way that implies that the person is bad at their mental illness because they don't fit your narrow idea of "coping."

tl;dr you're not their therapist and you need to mind your business because what you're doing is dangerous to people's wellbeing

[louisxadverbs]

Habit

1.3k of an unwritten letter from Louis Tomlinson to Harry Styles. 

February 1, 2016

Harry. 

Happy birthday, love, and for your present, I’m giving you the most depressing letter you’ll ever read. 

I miss you. 

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. 

I always said that I'd mess up eventually I told you that, so what did you expect from me? It shouldn't come as no surprise anymore I know you said that you'd give me another chance But you and I knew the truth of it in advance That mentally, you were already out the door

Never thought that giving up would be so hard But God, I'm missing you and your addictive heart

You're the habit that I can't break You're the feelin' I can't put down You're the shiver that I can't shake You're the habit that I can't break You're the high that I need right now You're the habit that I can't break

I took some time 'cause I've ran out of energy Of playing someone I heard I’m supposed to be But honestly, I don't have to choose anymore And it's been ages, different stages Come so far from Princess Park I'll always need ya In front of me, in front of me

You give me the time and the space I was out of control And I'm sorry I let you down I guess that I know what I already knew I was better with you And I miss you now

February 1, 2016

Harry. 

Happy birthday, love, and for your present, I’m giving you the most depressing letter you’ll ever read. 

I miss you. 

I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. 

I never thought giving you up would be so hard. But God, I’m missing you. I’m missing you and your stupid jokes and your curly head and dimply smile and addictive heart. I’m missing our lazy mornings and serenading each other and your voice floating from the shower. I’m missing your kisses and your hands around mine and I’m missing being able to hold you whenever I bloody well pleased.

I always knew I’d mess up eventually. I always said I’d mess up eventually. I told you that. Why didn’t you do it first, Haz?  Why didn’t you save the both of us and never give in to my stupid flirting?  You’re too good for me, Haz, you always have been, and I just don’t understand why you didn’t just go for someone else, someone who was deserving of you. 

And then - and then - you’d give me another chance. Over, and over, and over again. Can you believe that, Haz? I can’t. Even after all these years, I can’t believe you kept giving me chances. I’d mess up, and do the wrong thing, over and over, and you just kept giving me another chance. 

I guess we always sort of knew it was going downhill, though. I knew you were losing hope, and so was I, and I reckon it was always only a matter of who would crack and when. We knew the truth of it in advance, before it all came crashing down around us, before I made the final mistake of pushing you out the door. 

I just can’t put down the feeling that you’re next to me. I can’t put down the feeling that you’ll be next to me when I wake up, the feeling that I love you. It’s ridiculous, Harry - I’ll catch myself looking at a picture of you, or hearing news about you, or even just remembering something stupid we did ages ago and thinking, wow, I love this idiot. 

And I have to stop. 

And I have to think, no, I don’t love this idiot. We’re over, we’re not together. 

But I do, don’t I? 

I do love you. 

As much as I hate to admit it, I do love you. You’re like a shiver that just keeps coming back round. I can’t shake the shiver of you, Harry. And I just wish that I’d figured that out sooner. I regret it every day, Harry, and I can’t do anything about it. It’s the worst feeling in the world. The worst shiver in the universe. 

You know, I gave you up because I wanted time to stop playing a character. Because I thought I was getting out of control. Because I knew I was just trying too hard, trying so bloody hard to be someone I heard I’m supposed to be, and I wanted to be perfect for you. I wanted to be the very best me I could be for you. 

But what I didn’t realize was that you make me the best version of me I can be. With you, I’m me. With you, I am the most perfect version of me I can ever hope to be. You make me the best me, Haz, and I’ve given you up. And honestly, I don’t even have a choice of who I can be, anymore, Harry - I have to play that character, because I’m nobody without it. I’m nobody, anymore, because I’m not with you. Because you make me me. 

God, I miss you, Haz. 

Jesus, it’s been ages, hasn’t it? 

No, it hasn’t. 

It just feels like it, I guess. 

I need you, Harry. I’m nobody without you. I need you, I need the me I am with you, I need the high that I get when I’m with you. I feel like I haven’t laughed like I laughed with you in ages. You just have this electricity, Haz, that I need. It’s like I’m addicted. 

I’ve been drowning myself in memories, as of late. It’s quite strange, really, the fact that we can just google ourselves and find all our best years documented meticulously. Crazy what these fans do. It’s all fun and games, of course, until it’s two am and I’m pissed off my face and knee deep in “Larry proof”. 

Remember that? “Larry”?  Proper hell, it was, especially when the stupid interviewers would ask about it. Bloody hell, do you remember the teddy bears? Fuckin’  Josh, mate. Denying it felt like a stab in the heart. Genuinely can’t believe the bloody bastards had the nerve to do all that, to make us say no. And when they’d Tweet from my account! I couldn’t stand it, Haz, and now I’d do anything just to go back in time to when they’d do it just to be with you. God, Haz, it got so hard, but we always made it through. 

Speaking of memories, do you remember when we first moved into Princess Park?  It was so weird. From our humble little flat to the amazing *Princess Park*. The bed felt all weird, do you remember? And we slept on the floor that first night, tangled up in each other, and we laughed the whole night through. 

Do you know what I’d give just to laugh a whole night through with you? 

Anything, Haz. Anything. 

I’ll always need you. Forever. I’ll always love you, always need you in front of me, next to me, with me, and I don’t think this is something I can cure, even with you giving me time and space. I can’t cure my addiction to you. I can only treat it. Treat it with these stupid bloody letters and drowning myself in memories and crying myself to sleep. 

God, we’ve come so far, haven’t we?  We’ve come so far from Princess Park, from X-Factor, from everything. 

I’m so sorry I let you down, Harry. 

And I’ll always need you, always love you. 

You’re like a habit, Haz. 

You’re the habit that I can’t break. 

Yours sincerely, 

Louis.

[eldritchsurveys]

1020.

5k Survey LXXI

3601. What brands do you like? >> I usually don’t pay much attention to brands unless it’s about food or electronics. I like the Sweet Earth brand of prepared foods, for example, and I have found Asus products to be pretty reliable. (So far.) 3602. What do you think of the 'don't ask don't tell' policy of gays in the millitary? >> I’m pretty sure they repealed that. I say “pretty sure” because to be honest, I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention when that was a hot topic. 3603. Why do you think that so many people have such a problem with gays? >> There’s no one-size-fits-all answer for that, as far as I can ascertain. 3604. It seems like it is more accepted for a woman to be bi or gay than for a man. Why do you think that is? >> I don’t care to make a guess about that. I’m not even sure that assessment is true. 3605. When a kid kisses another kid on the playground is it sexual harassment? >> I think the particular term “sexual harassment” is best applied to older people who can grok exactly what that entails. When it comes to kids, I think the teaching point should be about respecting boundaries and others’ bodies, as well as appropriate behaviour in certain social settings.

3606. If you had to name your self after an object in the room with you what would you pick? >> No. 3607. Pick the two most important things out of these: writing deep thoughts, expressing your self clearly, being honest, finding new novel ways to waste time, being organized, practicing what you want to do, trying to be famous >> My two most important things from this list would be “expressing myself clearly” and “being honest”. 3608. You were only waiting for this momen to ----- >> ??? 3609. Knowing historically that native American indians were and are the first americans, how do you feel about america and current americans? >> I have no answer for this extremely broad and vague question. 3610. Just what exactly determines whether or not one is 'mental'? >> *shrug* Not me. 3611. is it true that people with depression CAN'T function in society? >> Some can and some can’t. People with depression should have access to mental health resources regardless of ability to perform socially. 3612. fill in the word: half of what i say is ----------- >> --- 3613. Some people believe the Holocaust was a hoax?. What do you think of this? >> I don’t think anything about it. I’m aware that’s a thing some people believe, but I am not one of those people and it’s nothing to do with me. 3614. Does EVERYONE in the world care about how they look except YOU? >> Well, I also care about how I look, so, no. 3615. Do you love italian names like Lorenzo, Gaetano, and Grazziano? >> I mean... not especially? They’re just names to me. 3616. Everyone does horrible things. Do you think that people are more accepting of the bad things they do themselves or the bad things others do? Which are you more accepting of? >> I think that depends on the person and how they view themselves versus how they view others, etc. I give other people way more leeway than I do myself, because I have a pretty developed Inner Critic who is tailor-made to assert that everything I do is bad and wrong even if it’s no badder or wronger than what some other guy did. 3617. Is it true that NO ONE wants to date grumpy people? >> I don’t know, I haven’t taken a fuckin poll or anything. 3618. Bush and his henchmen have now come up with a list of people for the CIA to assassinate. What do you think of this? >> What I think is that I find that highly doubtful. This is an extremely dated question, anyway. 3619. Why is it that in many states sodomy and oral sex are still illegal, even if they are consensual? >> Because those laws simply haven’t been updated for a more sexually liberal time period. 3620. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of: liberals? conservatives? hippies? nobel peace prize winners? black panthers? time magazine? feminists? 3621. Order these issues from most important and needing to be dealt with to least important and we can put it off: cloning, racism, aids cure, the middle east, putting power back in the hands of the people, the environment, better education >> --- 3622. Do you feel like you are missing out because you can only know a certain number of people in this world and you can't know everyone? >> No, that’s not what makes me feel like I’m missing out. It’s usually stuff like “I can’t read every book” or whatever that makes me feel acutely how short our time on this planet really is. 3623. What do you imagine being a soldier in a war is actually like? >> I don’t want to imagine that, thanks. 3624. Do you agree that woman should be allowed to enlist in the army? >> Sure. Why anyone would want to is beyond me, lmao, but you should have the right. 3625. What is the purpose of government? >> You know, take care of the people etc etc. 3626. Why don't people believe in free love anymore? >> I’m pretty sure the rampant spread of STIs had something to do with it. The concept of��“free love” comes with a lot of fine print. 3627. Do you make decisions with your head or your heart? >> I make decisions with my whole consciousness... 3628. What is the differance between sympathy and empathy? >> Google it. 3629. Can you think of any person or group you cannot empathize with? >> Not off the top of my head. 3630. Like creme savers? >> Unfortunately those do not exist anymore, but yeah, I was nuts about them back in the day. 3631. Your best friends asks you to marry them Out of the blue. You say: >> --- 3632. What makes you feel seriously depressed? >> Depression. 3633. Have you personaly worked for peace? >> Er, no? 3634. Do you suppress parts of yourself because you are afraid of judgement? >> Unfortunately. 3635. Do you take in the ideas and opinions of others too often?/ >> I don’t know. I don’t think so, but who knows. 3636. 36 - 24 - 36? >> ?? Those look like measurements, but they ain’t mine, so. 3637. What just isn't right? >> Left. 3638. What makes your blood boil?? >> I’m not sure. 3639. Have you ever gone to the bathroom in a place that wasn't a bathroom? >> Yeah. 3640. Want some water melon? >> Not right now. 3641. What's your favorite gum? >> It used to be Orbit Bubblemint, but then they changed the formula and now it’s horrible, so I have no more favourite. :( 3642. What do you imagine going to Harvard is like? >> I don’t want to imagine going to Harvard. I’ll just watch Legally Blonde instead. 3643. What would you get rid of forever if you had to choose snow or rain? >> As annoyed as snow makes me, I don’t want to get rid of it. I just want to live somewhere that maybe gets a little less of it. The climate doesn’t need to change to suit me, I can just... move... 3644. Is there a santa clause? >> Yeah, it’s that movie with Tim Allen or whoever. 3645. Do you understand yourself? Do you understand everyone else? >> I understand some parts of myself and I’m still learning about others. It’s similar with other people, just with varying ratios. 3646. Do you think there is a connection between understanding yourself and understanding others? >> Yeah, I do think that. 3647. What's good? >> Garlic bread. Garlic bread is good. 3648. Have you ever played dodge ball? >> Maybe in school. 3649. Is there anything you feel men can do better than woman? >> There’s nothing I can think of off the top of my head, and I suspect that there probably isn’t anything at all that I truly believe men can somehow naturally, innately do better than women. 3650. Is there anything you feel woman can do better than men? >> Same answer, just switch the nouns around.

[nanna-melissa]

Nanna’s Record Collection #2: Queen

Now..me..a Queen fan? Unbelievable. So I started to get into Queen a few years ago but I was a pretty casual fan. When I was digging into their musical catalog a bit more, I was also getting into Placebo and they sort of took over. I didn’t listen to Queen proper until three months ago. I’ve listened to many of their bigger singles and had their Greatest Hits Vol. II on when I worked on projects. Now my order for this is not going to be chronological in which they were released but when I bought them. My top 5 are going to be first so enough explanation, let’s get onto..

This photo is so blue/purple compared to the others, gotta love my phone trying to white balance. So, I bought this and the next one I’m going to talk about at the same time. My first impression with this album was ‘okay, this is the one with BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY ON IT’ and that song isn’t my absolute favorite on this thing! I have to say listening to it in full for the first time was a ride. Death on Two Legs followed by Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon was like whiplash but then I’M IN LOVE WITH MY CAR...BITCH. I did not think Roger would go as hard as he did. I was taken aback...I was laughing...I was shocked....I had questions, comments and concerns. Like....TOLD MY GIRL I HAD TO FORGET HER, RATHER BUY ME A NEW CARBURETOR...then CARS DON’T TALK BACK, THEY’RE JUST FOUR-WHEELED FRIENDS NOW. Iconic. It’s got my pistons a-pumpin’. You’re my Best Friend was familiar territory. It’s John being fuckin’ wholesome but then came ‘39. It was love at first listen. I listened to that song on loop for like two weeks. Sweet Lady didn’t grab me as hard but with a line like ‘you call me sweet like I’m some kind of cheese’...I was missing out. I also skipped Seaside Rendezvous and listened to it on vinyl for the first time and wanted to kick my own ass for not letting myself listen to it sooner. I love that song. Prophet’s Song, I think..is kinda weak? But it’s ending transitioning into Love of my Life? OOH BB. GOOD SHIT. Then there’s Good Company and I love Brian’s voice in it and the Ukulele slaps. Then what can I say about Bo Rhap that people haven’t like come on. 

Favorites: Death on Two Legs, Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon, I’m in Love with my Car, You’re my Best Friend, ‘39, Sea Side Rendezvous, Love of my Life, Good Company, and Bohemian Rhapsody...(so nearly the whole album)

This boy? Right here? This is my favorite Queen album. Considering Radio Ga GA and I Want to Break Free were the first two songs I fell in love with...it was kind of meant to be, huh? But for real, this album has no dud. Radio Ga Ga? Banger and if you don’t clap along with it, I’m judging you. Tear it Up? It is such an 80′s Queen Brian song. That guitar is so...ooh 👌 It’s a Hard Life? THOSE OPENING LINES AND HOW FREDDIE SINGS THEM OWN MY ENTIRE ASS. With the video, Fred’s goddamn red and black winged liner look..........holy shit. Also Roger looks like a child on the verge of a temper tantrum and I live for it. Man on the Prowl is just fun. Now...Machines (Back to Human), people sleep on this one. The vocals, the synths, the guitar..perfection. I Want to Break Free, come on. The video. Rogerina. John writing yet another absolute banger like the icon he is. Perfection. Then it’s followed by another song people sleep on. Keep Passing the Open Windows just does something for me. The bass on that track cures my depression and it mixed with the drums? I’m done for. Hammer to Fall after? Again, another absolute banger. Is This the World we Created is such a fantastic closer. 

Favorites: Every. Single. Song.

I know Hot Space is a very hit or miss album for many people. For me, this is pretty much tied for second favorite album alongside a Night at the Opera. Hearing about this one, I heard this was Queen’s worst album. To that I say a couple things. One, the people saying that are straight. Two, they don’t like fun music. While gay club, disco/funk influenced, heavily due to Freddie and also John, this album is so much fun. Staying Power is such a strong opener. The sax, Freddie’s vocals and the more funky guitars make me just want to boogie. I love the little ‘yeah!’ Fred does after ‘See what I got, I got a hell of a lot’ in the beginning. Dancer is a bit out there for Brian and I appreciate. Now when I say Back Chat owns my ass, it truly owns my ass. It is the landlord of my ass. A diss track towards Brian written by John and then JOHN BOPPING AROUND IN THE VIDEO AND SMILING WHILE BRIAN LOOKS MISERABLE...that’s a level of petty I aspire to be. Now, Body Language fucks. That bass fucks. It’s a simple song, not too complicated but it works so well. Action This Day is alright. I enjoy the chorus but it’s a slight bore to me...and yet Body Language is not I might ruffle some feathers saying that. Put Out the Fire is very 80′s Brian. Can see some stepping stones from this to the Works. 

Life is Real grew on me. I’m a John Lennon fan (I know, prepare the pitchforks and the ‘he beat his wife’ comments) and it’s very John. It’s a wonderful creative tribute to the man. Calling All Girls grew on me. It’s video is questionable at best. Even Brian and Roger watching it back were like ‘what in the fuck is this’ and Roger forgot it was his song. Legend. Las Palabras De Amor is beautiful. Them harmonizing in the chorus does something for me. Now...Cool Cat. Cool Cat is easily in my top 3 all-time favorite Queen songs. Whenever I listen to this song, I swear I can feel the dopamine receptors connecting in my brain. Fred’s falsetto fucks me up. Also take a moment of appreciation for John Richard Deacon born on August the 19th, 1951. He wrote it and did the entire instrumental. The talent? Immense. Now the closer is of course Under Pressure. I wish they kept Brian’s bit in it but hey, what can you do. I can’t really say anything about the song besides it slaps and the highest note was not done by Freddie but Roger. 

Favorites: Staying Power, Back Chat, Body Language, Put out the Fire, Cool Cat, Under Pressure. 

This is an interesting one. She used to be a woman with a hotdog stand HOOP DIDDY DIDDY HOOP DIDDY DOO. Now, this one caught my attention due to the first two tracks. Innuendo mixes genres so beautifully. That spanish guitar section is stunning and the bridge gets me every time. I’m Going Slightly Mad after that? It’s a bit odd. The introduction on the track is an odd one and it used to slightly creep it out the first time I heard it. But the more I listen, the more I really appreciate how fun it is. The video is one of my absolute favorites. Freddie’s look. Brian WEARING CLOGS IN THE 90′s LIKE AN ABSOLUTE UNIT, and John just standing there with a yo-yo makes me happy. Headlong kind of makes me laugh now after watching the making of this album’s documentary. Roger talks about how it’s a serious album but then it cuts to the SHE USED TO BE A WOMAN WITH A HOTDOG STAND line. The next three songs I didn’t give a chance until about a month ago. Ride the Wild Wind is one I was not expecting to enjoy as much as I do but there’s something about it. Along with Don’t Try So Hard. Now...These Are the Days of Our Lives? Excuse me while I cry. The last song I want to talk about is Delilah. A song Freddie wrote for his favorite cat. The lines ‘you make me so very happy, when you cuddle up and go to sleep beside me...but then you make me slightly mad, when you pee all over my chippendale suite’. BUT THEN THE MEOWS AND BRIAN MAKING HIS GUITAR SOUND LIKE A CAT MY HEART MELTS. 

Favorites: Innuendo, I’m Going Slightly Mad, Headlong, I Can’t Live With You, Don’t Try So Hard, Ride the Wild Wind, Delilah, the Show Must Go On.

Holy shit number five. My fingers are in slight pain and I have four more to go after this. Now time for a confession, I guess? I used to hate Killer Queen. For some reason, I couldn’t stand it. Key words there are used to. That song is a bop and I was a dumb bitch I guess. Tenement Funster is honestly such a Roger track. The opening line makes me think it’s a nod to those glittery converse he used to wear. Those were a strong look. Flick of the Wrist is the grand pappy of Death on Two Legs. Or is the father? I don’t know. But it’s still a diss track for a manager who did them dirty. Anyway, this track does something for me. In the Lap of the Gods....Roger’s goddamn FALSETTO HOW DARE HE. Then when they did this song live and he did that shit...bitch. My jaw DROPPED. Stone Cold Crazy with that almost early punk sound? Hell yee. Now, Misfire. Learning the meaning behind it.....John....honey...oof. I mean it’s a bop about ending too early during sex, that you cannot deny. Leroy Brown was one that grew on me. I actually didn’t care too much for it for a while. It’s fun. Now, She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettos)...WHY ARE PEOPLE SLEEPING ON THIS TRACK???! Brian’s vocals are so fuckin’ beautiful, paired with that simple instrumental...it’s such a stunning track. Lap of the Gods (revisited) I slept on. I deserve to have my ass kicked for that. 

Favorites: Flick of the Wrist, Lap of the Gods, Misfire, She Makes Me (Stormtrooper in Stilettos) and Last of the Gods...revisited.

This one is still growing on me. Father to Son when I first heard it flicked something in my brain and it’s one of those that I cannot skip when it’s on. White Queen didn’t really impress me at first and it required a re-listen. Then I actually properly listened to it and it got me hooked. Now, Loser in the End. That song FUCKS and it’s my favorite off this record. It sounds vastly different from many of the others and it felt like a breath of fresh air. Ogre Battle is a fuckin’ beast of a track. Along with it, most of the Black side just kind of reminds me of playing D&D with the boys. Am I alone in this? Probably. This one I’m still getting into for the most part. 

Favorites: Father to Son, White Queen (as it Began), Loser in the End, Ogre Battle, Funny How Love Is,  Seven Seas of Rhye.

This scamp was hard to get a good picture of. That cover is hella reflective. This is one I wasn’t expecting to add into my collection. It’s not my absolute top favorite, I do still rather enjoy it. Play the Game is pretty mellow but then goddamn DRAGON ATTACK. EXCUSE ME. The bass on that track? That guitar riff? I’m done. I am deceased. BUT THEN THAT’S FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST, BIIIIIIITCH. If you couldn’t tell, I love a good bass line. This one is so fuckin’ tasty. It’s simple but so goddamn effective. Need Your Loving Tonight seems like almost like a transitional song. It gives me a bit of a Hot Space Vibe. Crazy Little Thing Called Love is a song me and my mom bond over all the time. It’s her favorite Queen song and we often sing along to it in the car. Now. Rock it? Rock it (Prime Jive)? It slaps and it slaps hard. However, listening to it one night, the track faintly reminded me of Sword of Damocles from Rocky Horror Picture Show. The Vocals very much did and the instrumental as well but not as much.  Now with Don’t Try Suicide....it’s one song I’m really not a fan of. Having to do with childhood trauma dealing with suicide? Maybe so. The last three I still need to give a proper chance? I’m weird with albums. I sleep on songs then finally listen to them get regret for not listening to them sooner. 

Favorites: Dragon Attack, Another one Bites the Dust, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Rock it (Prime Jive), and Save Me.

Damn alright, I’m starting to get tired of typing but this is the second to the last boyoo. My phalanges are literally going to fall off when I talk about the Beatles. OKAY NOW, another album I slept on for a while. I’m a dumb bitch, we established this. I listened to this album before in full but it didn’t do much for me. I gave it another go and found I actually enjoyed quite a bit of it. Tie your Mother Down brought me back to the days of listening to their Greatest Hits II album on their YouTube Channel. The Intro music was the guitar rift for this song. You Take my Breath Away is an interesting one. Very reminiscent of Love of my Life...almost a sort of lonely love song of sorts. You and I is sort of the complete opposite and it does sort of illustrate how lonely Freddie was. Somebody to Love and it’s harmonies water my crops, clear my depression, and give me a hug. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy is one of those tunes you just have bop to. Drowse is absolutely STUNNING. Not what I expect from a Roger song. I mean the last one of his on an album was what? I’m in Love with my Car? We love a versatile icon. Teo Torriatte and just the meaning behind it is so incredibly sweet. It’s so absolutely wholesome and reading how Brian and the boys worked with their translator to get it just right for their Japanese audience. My heart is full. 

Favorites: You Take my Breath Away, You and I, Drowse, Teo Torriatte. 

HOLY SHIT LAST ONE. When I sat down and started listening to their entire discography, this one really set the stage of what was to come. Keep Yourself Alive is such a strong opener in my opinion. Also DO YOU THINK YOU GET BETTER EVERYDAY?? NO I JUST THINK I’M TWO STEPS NEARER TO MY GRAVE...a bop. Doing Alright isn’t my favorite but is it fun to sing ‘doing alriiiiiiiight’?. Hell yee. Great Rat King fuckin’ SLAPS. Now...I am a simple woman and when I hear Liar..I get more turnt than a white dad at a barbeque in cargo shorts and crocs listening to Bruce Springsteen. It’s almost impossible for me to not sing along. To scream LIAR and of course MAMA I’M GONNA BE YOUR SLAVE ALL DAY LONG....ooh BABY. Solid track. Also that version of them playing it at the Rainbow is absolute perfection. Modern Times Rock n Roll comes out of almost no-where and damn...Rog really out here. It’s also far too short for my liking. Son & Daugher I have to say gives me almost Cream vibes? I dig it. The vocals goddamn kill me..straight up manslaughter, truly. 

Favorites: Keep Yourself Alive, Great Rat King, Liar, Modern Times Rock n Roll and Son & Daughter. 

This took me nearly two hours to write, holy hell. But hey, those are my 9 records that I wrote essays about. 

[goodlesson]

got tagged by the ever wonderful @fortiesbucky to answer 73 (!!!!) questions. since i’m a lil wine drunk and waiting for my pokemon game to download i figured why not, let’s do it!!! here goes nothing. my answers are under the cut!

this is a ridiculous undertaking but i’ll tag some ppl i guess. if you have some time to kill....go for it! @dansmlth @mabelmcbae @mirandabeach @the-best-of-what-we-had-youknow @stormerforweekes @unseenpolarstars

on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? like a 4?? we’re in the middle of a global pandemic (Yikes) but my big job interview is finally over with and it went really well so i guess that’s kind of exciting!

describe yourself in a hashtag? #DoItForDua

if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? i’m ace let’s bake a cake together instead (looking @ u dan bastille)

if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? this is not a musical despite the copious amounts of terrible singing

what’s one thing people don’t know about you? i WILL cry when ur least expecting it 

what’s your wake up ritual? make coffee/breakfast, mess around on tumblr for a bit and catch up on messages from friends, then log on to start work at nine

what’s your go to bed ritual? i’ve been playing animal crossing for like an hour before bed every night. that’s about it

what’s your favorite time of day? morning after i’ve had my coffee and i have my one hour of motivation to do things sxkljsdf

your go to for having a good laugh? vines that cured my depression compilations on youtube

dream country to visit? oh this is a hard one!! would love to go to the UK someday

what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? my 13th bday party when my mom got all of my friends together to surprise me 🥺

heels or flats/sneakers? converse baby

vintage or new? new. i’m not trendy or skinny enough to pull off vintage anything

who do you want to write your obituary? anyone except my mother

style icon? when dua lipa went through that phase of wearing sweatpants and bras onstage....yeah i vibe w/ that

what are three things you cannot live without? music, my hydroflask, and my electric blanket

what’s one ingredient you put in everything? GARLIC

what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? listen...i really just wanna hang out with dan smith. also niall from 1d. and hm....maybe....ok this is a weird answer but marina keegan. she died at 22 after graduating from yale and her book literally changed my life

what’s your biggest fear in life? love & intimacy oop

window or aisle seat? window

what’s your current tv obsession? too hot to handle is the funniest thing i’ve ever seen

favorite app? rn i’m using discord a lot. also instagram

secret talent? i know every word to every cover the glee cast ever did

most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? studying abroad in ecuador!

how would you define yourself in three words? positive, introverted, and....and.....maybe simple? (in the sense that i’m ok with just living a life without fancy things or huge ambitions)

favorite piece of clothing you own? my fuzzy north face fleece jacket!

a must have clothing item that everyone should have? buy yourself a good rain jacket pls just do it

a superpower you would want? being an empath would be cool

what’s inspiring you in life right now? my friends!!! i have so many ppl to talk to rn and staying connected with them is really keeping me going

best piece of advice you’ve received? everything works out in the end, don’t stress about what you can’t control

best advice you’d give your teenage self? just tell ppl you aren’t straight it really isn’t a big deal

a book everyone should read? out east by john glynn

what would you like to be remembered for? loving my friends and writing some stuff that maybe impacted a few ppl

how do you define beauty? kindness! openness!

what do you love most about your body? my smile i guess?

best way to take a rest/decompress? listening to music, wasting time on the internet

favorite place to view art? ....online?

if your life was a song, what would the title be? Avoiding Intimacy 

if you could master one instrument, what would it be? guitar

if you had a tattoo, where would it be? i’ve been thinking about this lately. probably on the inside of my arm somewhere?

dolphins or koalas? DOLPHINS (are fish! no they aren’t. yeah they are. just cuz they live in water doesn’t mean they’re fish!)

what’s your spirit animal? penguin

best gift you’ve ever received? my boss surprising me with those brownies yesterday was pretty cool

best gift you’ve given? i made my best friend in college this little jar full of our inside jokes written on little slips of paper. i thought it was pretty cute

what’s your favorite board game? rummikub, life, cards against humanity

what’s your favorite color? yellow

least favorite color? brown

diamond or pearls? diamonds

drugstore makeup or designer? drugstore

blow-dry or air-dry? blowdry (with a diffuser of course)

pilates or yoga? neither wtf do i look like a flexible person to u

coffee or tea? coffee

what’s the weirdest word in the english language? my roommates and i were playing that avocado smash game a few nights ago and now the word ‘avocado’ will never sound correct ever again

dark chocolate or milk chocolate? dark chocolate

stairs or elevators? elevators (i’m lazy)

summer or winter? summer!

you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? BAGELS

a dessert you don’t like? anything with a jelly or creamy/custardy filling

a skill you’re working on mastering? playing the guitar

best thing to happen to you today? my interview went really well!!!

worst thing to happen to you today? i had like three crazy stress dreams about said interview so i was exhausted all day lol

best compliment you’ve ever received? ‘your smile just lights up a room’ 🤧

favorite smell? vanilla

hugs or kisses? I WUV HUGZ

if you made a documentary, would it be about? how the portrayal of sex in modern pop culture affects our views of love and romance and intimacy in negative and unrealistic ways!!!!

last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? bitch every livestream dan bastille does makes me tear up

lipstick or lipgloss? the only correct answer is CHAPSTICK

sweet or savory? sweet

girl crush? dua lipa and it’s not a girl crush i full on fuckin LOVE HER

how do you know you’re in love? don’t ask me this

a song you can listen to on repeat? anything by bastille

if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? would love to be a cat just chillin on the ground someday

what are you most excited for about this time in your life? normally i’d say all the concerts i have coming up lmao screw you corona

[ittakesrain]

I’m hesitant to say this round is over. I won’t say that just yet. The remnants of unbearable fear are still with me, the trauma is still too recent.

Like, fuck. It was (I’ll use the past tense there) like 15 or so days of just. Well, if you’ve read my shit before you know what it was like. Or if you’re unlucky enough to suffer this sinister fucking disorder, you know. You don’t need me reminding you.

It always starts with the violent, aggressive, uncontrollable irritability. It has no actual cause and therefore no clear way to be diffused. It’s terrifying. I notice it in the car the most, driving. No matter who’s in front of me and no matter how they’re driving, I am angry. Intensely. White-hot rage is literally all I know or have ever known.

Then major depression. I noticed that when I was driving during that phase, I was angry as fuck still but literally to weary to respond with anger. It turned inward and tore me apart from the inside. It literally radiates off of me (like my anxiety does). My boyfriend always comments when he feels it radiating off of me.

Sidenote, I love that he senses/sees the changes that happen within me. They’re so sudden and for no reason, and they leave me feeling crazy (I already feel crazy like, generally, but I’m constantly questioning like “did that really just happen, did I really just sob hysterically for an hour?”).

After that (or along with it) comes anxiety. Fuck the fucking anxiety. Like, physical panic attack symptoms coupled with the racing thoughts, none of which I can fully latch onto, most of them scary, many of them about death. It’s just indescribable to not have a safe place in your brain. No amount of visualization or breathing can fix it. Not even having someone next to me speaking words of comfort. Not even a hug, and I love hugs.

I had family stuff all weekend, and my cousins were visiting from another state. And it was terrible because I spent one day holding back tears and hiding and then actually letting the tears just fuckin’ flow. I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact with anyone that day. Yesterday was a little better. I was mopey and uncomfortable and distracted and totally not myself.

Then, of course, I got home and was hysterical for a little over an hour. And not that I wanna put myself back in that terrible, terrible moment (or any of the MANY previous ones I’ve had), but I just remember so vividly wondering how I’d ever be able to function again. I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever been able to function before. There was no escape, nothing else but inward-pointing disgust and depression and fear. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that I’m only fucking 28 and that this thing is gonna live with me for the rest of  my ever, and it might get worse and there’s no cure and like. Yeah, the cure thing. I explained to a friend of mine that “cure” is not a thing. Meds are not a cure, therapy is not a cure, doing all the right things is not a cure. They help. They give me better tools to survive the next round. But that’s all it is, most times: survival.

Sounds like a totally negative way to view it. And I feel no guilt for feeling that way. This. Shit. Sucks. I deserve a pity party after every fucking episode. At least grant me that (not that I need or am asking for permission).

Also, could timing possibly have been any worse? Ugh. I missed them all and they were physically here. The guilt I felt made things worse. The longing didn’t help either.

And I’m pretty sure none of them have ever seen me quite that bad. I was afraid I scared or upset them. But honestly, they are all so understanding and helpful and supportive, and the tremendous amount of love I feel for them is mind-blowing. I am so lucky, and I’m at a loss for words. I doubt that in a lifetime of writing and collecting words, I’ll ever get enough to explain how lucky I am or how much all that means to me.

And I have to mention my sister. And brother in law. Not only their actually support, but they were sending pictures of my amazing perfect adorable pure nephew. Immediately puts a smile on my face. Lots of people reminded me that he’s a big WHY. I want to be the aunt he deserves. And I know I can be, although I dread having to explain to my little guy why Aunt Laura loses it every now and again (but there’s a Dr Seuss book about feelings which is actually totally about bipolar disorder that I’m gonna use when he’s old enough). It sometimes hurt that I had to feel so shitty and have that someone be connected to how he was making me feel better. There was some measure of guilt that I can’t explain. But my god is his little face and his little rolls worth it.

Right. So I’m feeling better but not ready to call it being out of the woods yet. If nothing else I think it’ll be less dramatic from here on out, and I think it’ll be less rapid cycling. I think I’ll be at least somewhat less reactive to tiny insignificant bullshit going “wrong.”

Mind you, this is all sheer optimism and positivity. And I do not for a single second take for granted the fact that I am, at this moment, capable of thinking that way. It’s fleeting. All of this is fleeting. I mean, life can be looked at that way by everyone, which might be a helpful push toward “living in the moment.” But bipolar fleeting. Moods are fleeting. Flux is constant and its effects are omnipresent.

I’m just trying to find the silver lining. Wrap this up in a bow, as I tend to do. Actually no, as I need to do. And like, don’t we all? Part of what made this episode suck so bad was that I couldn’t write (even though I had some deadlines) and I couldn’t describe this bullshit in a way that I haven’t already. Each bought of insanity brings with it new…shit. And it is infuriating to not be able to explain it again. Also, I couldn’t move let alone form words. Couldn’t make eye contact let alone summon the energy to talk with other human beings.

I dunno. I guess for now I’m gonna focus (something I’m able to do again!) on finding the beauty in the spaces in between the chaos. Find a way to drill it so deep in my brain that I’ll inherently remember it (or just fucking FEEL it) next depression (well actually this was a mixed episode but whatever).

Until I get around to doing that, peace out, internet.