#which my parents dont like but wont bother to change their behavior to change that

[theamazingannie]

Spent the past three days in a really low place cuz my mom was being her usual moody self and I've spent all this time thinking it was my fault and having my dad basically say it was all my fault and being absolutely miserable over it only to find out that she got fired Thursday morning and no one bothered to tell me and THAT"S why she was being moody but everyone decided to take it all out on me :/

[facelesspassport]

One of my firmest beliefs is that "safe spaces for men" will not solve the issue of male radicalization and patriarchy. If you want men to stop becoming terrorists you need to target the true source of misogyny: male socialization. Once a young boy is taught by his parents that women are inferior to him he is doomed to bigotry, because he lives in a world that will constantly reinforce this idea and reward him for agreeing. As for adult men who are already misogynists, the only way to convert them to feminism is to stop coddling them (and yes, I see all of the "safe spaces for men"/"male mental health" discourse as coddling). Coddling abusers only enables them (and yes, bigots are inherently abusers)! You can not convince an abuser to change by coddling/gentle guidance as this will only embolden them. We can only make men change by holding them accountable for their behavior as a class, period. I think that the best way to do this on a mass scale would be via reeducation camps, but we all know that westerners would see that as unethical somehow. So, our next best bet would be forcing our governments to create feminist programs that aim to do the following: stop domestic violence, "reform" abusers and rapists with court mandated abuser counseling, and educate young people on gender studies, safe sex, and relationship practices. China has a program called "the Ministry of Health and Family" which was created to stop misogynistic violence, and once it was instated their domestic violence rates plummeted. China did not create safe spaces for men to reduce terrorism- they held them accountable and it worked. We should follow in their footsteps. EDIT: I added screenshots and whatnot. nothing to see here, really Im just kinda seething.

I took screenshots of these comments that i made under the original post because I just knew that OP would block me after I wrote this- not because its any harsher than the other replies (in fact mine was pretty tame compared to some of the responses) but because I am spitting straight facts and OP is a misogynist. I just wanted to repost them here for my own safe keeping and sanity ig. I didnt care for the idea of discussing this with OP directly since I knew they wouldnt be interested in a feminist POV, but I was hoping that my comments would be seen by the audience. It bothers me when people make these huge discourse posts and then block certain commenters solely because they dont want their friends to see the opposing responses. It especially bothers me in this case because as we speak OP is fiercely & performatively "debating" with TERFs who obviously wont change their minds- yet they blocked me immediately (though I wasnt interested in directly speaking with them) because they knew my comments made them look bad, and Im willing to bet that they told themselves they "felt unsafe" or something to justify it.

Like, just say you hate women and go... :EDIT over

There should be actual self-help spaces for men (and especially young men) that aren’t just alt-right recruitment centers.

As a person who was a dude the places I wanted to go to with kind people (usually queer people) had at least a few people saying that “men are trash” or “men are inherent dangers” with no pushback and it scared me.

I’m decently emotionally mature and realized that just because some outliers were assholes didn’t mean the whole place was terrible but what about younger or less emotionally mature boys? They see “oh men are trash” and see no pushback then think “Oh. These people do not like me for something I cannot change. These other people (Jordan Peterson fans) like me for who I am (they don’t but they say they do). I will go to the place I feel safer and happier.”

Without a kind safe space for boys then they will go to these toxic places. I used to read a good amount of posts on r/Teachers and a lot of them are saying the boys don’t respect them, love people like Andrew Tate, so on and so forth. This is what happens when the only “safe spaces” for boys aren’t actually safe.

[ilikezodiacs]

How will the zodiac signs feel when they are tired of being pushed around by people who are supposed to care for them? (Example, being pushed around by a parent to do college but the kid doesn’t want to go to college)

I think everyone deals things their own way based on how and where they were raised. this is more of an psychology question. but i'll do my best to link this with each individual zodiac sign!

Aries

They do their best to keep cool and probably wont say anything at all in the beginning. Even though they might regret this later. They know its useless and not worthy if they get into a huge argument every second someone annoys the Aries. I'ts not that they let go, they just need want to prevent this control handle at any cost.

Taurus

Boundaries and limits are very important to the Taurus. When people ignore these boundaries, the taurus will become tempered and will speak out harsh words. At that moment they wont look to the past of future anymore. They're done. The problem with this attitude is that they'll probably regret their behavior soon or later (or not).

Gemini

They're the kind of people that will immediately ask reasoning. They'll probably have a conversation to defense themselves a bit. So that they can express what bothers them. But the gemini might humble themselves down since they probably put other people on their nerves quit often.

Cancer

Most likely to blame themselves in every way. which is not the case at all. They probably not talk back in the first place and will go with it for now. But after some time the cancer will analyse the whole situation once more and realize that they need to step up to make chances. which they do.

Leo

They hate when someone pushes them to change their ambitions. Leo's have a strong will and would not accept when someone ruins it for them. They will try to reason with the person at first, trying to understand them. however if they will stand up for themselves if they disagree.

Virgo

They always realize what was wrong after the situation which makes them doubt their social skills. "i could've said this... i could've said that.." Virgos are overthinkers and critical so at first they limit their interactions, this is because they need time to say the right thing at the right time.

Libra

They will stay quiet, looking for a tiny detail or mistake so they can back themselves up in a subtle way. They dont want to cause any angry negotiations on the way. Thats why they're most likely to stay quiet along the way.

Scorpio

Avoid confrontation at all cost. they're unbothered to even react on something they have to say. They'll keep their profile low and will find a way to get what they want, regardless what other people will think of them.

Sagittarius

very versatile people and know how to interact in different situations, however they will probably jump way to fast into conclusions. which will mislead the whole situation. its important. when pushed too far, the Sagittarius will follow their gut and cause a catastrophe.

Capricorn

Will try not to get upset, probably getting confused if they should listen to their heart or choose to think rationally. They dont like being picked on, but they also need enough proof to get into action.

Aquarius

Once they set their point they wont forgive the people who ignore those. Thats why these signs are pretty quickly done with people. once things are too much for the aquarius they will just emotionally and mentally detach themselves from that person

Pisces

They will probably plan everything ahead if things will go down. but since their imagination is bigger than the realization.. things will take alot longer than expected. they will block this person and leave themselves in a loop of free imagination. hoping one day the stress will come to an end.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Jumpstart Your Heart

it feels like it’s been a while right?? well, it’s been raining for a few days every week for about a month, so take ~4400 words of post-canon fluff (where Allura lived though it doesn’t really matter tbh). enjoy!! 

Pidge’s car refuses to start.

Fat raindrops steadily pelt her windshield, the lights in the Target parking lot blurring through the streaks of water on the glass. The chill of the winter air fills the interior, her breath misting out in front of her, and when she turns her key in the ignition, all she gets is a stuttering choking sound.

Pidge growls as her forehead falls against the steering wheel. All she wanted from Target was a jar of peanut butter and a bottle of orange juice for tomorrow’s breakfast, but all she got was stranded.

(Well, and the peanut butter and juice; those, along with a bag of cherry-flavored licorice that looked really good on the shelf but tasted awful the instant she tore apart the first strip, lay safely inside a paper grocery bag on the backseat.)

This is fine though! She was a Defender of the Universe - she was in worse situations before launching into space in a blue, lion-shaped weapon of mass destruction. What’s a little car trouble to a Paladin of Voltron?

Pidge drums her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking…she has a jumper cable in the trunk, right? Or, no, she let Hunk borrow it last time he was on Earth and forgot to ask for it back. Maybe another total stranger in the parking lot would have one - and a working car battery - and be willing to help her out? If they need convincing, she can even put on the old gremlin Pidge voice for them.

What drained her battery anyway? It’s not like she has to worry about leaving her headlights turned on when they’re supposed to turn off automatically!

Wait, when was the last time she had the battery changed?

“Quiznak,” Pidge grumbles when she realizes she’s never changed the battery. She spends all day - and sometimes night - designing some of the most advanced ships and weaponry in the universe, but her own damn car still has the battery she bought it with.

She’s going to have to call for help.

Right as the thought crosses her mind, her phone vibrates in her jacket pocket. She fumbles for it with stiff, cold fingers, expecting it to be her mother wondering if she’s home yet (never mind that she moved out of her parents’ house and into her own Garrison-issued apartment almost a year ago) only to be greeted with an alert from the weather service.

A flash flood warning for her county of residence.

“This is fine,” Pidge tells herself despite her heart skipping a beat in alarm. She’s never seen it rain this hard and for so long in this corner of Arizona; is a tsunami of muddy water about to wash across the Target parking lot and sweep her and her traitorous car away while she deliberates?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she mumbles, scowling at her rain-streaked reflection in the window. “Tsunamis occur as a result of earthquakes, and I’m nowhere near the coast.”

But what if the dam on the river—

Pidge unlocks her phone and dials the first number on her “recent calls” list without glancing at the contact name. Her leg shakes, but she can’t tell if it’s from agitation or the shivers occasionally gripping her.

“Pidge!” Lance greets her cheerfully at the other end. “How’s it going? Not that I’m not happy to hear from you, but since when do you—”

“Lance,” she cuts himself off, “do you have a jumper cable?” Usually speaking to him on the phone leaves her a tad breathless and her palms so slick with sweat she risks dropping anything she’s holding - why does a simple phone call feel so intimate anyway? It’s weird; she calls her parents and brother on the phone all the time! - but now urgency steadies her voice.

“Right to the point, huh?” Lance muses with a chuckle. “Where are you?”

“Uh…the Target by the state highway two miles off-base,” Pidge tells him.

Lance laughs and wonders, “The peanut butter at the commissary not good enough for you?”

Her face warms - is she really that predictable? - but she muffles an irritated groan with her sleeve. “The commissary’s not open this late.”

“Yeah, I guess you could’ve just walked there too,” he adds.

“In the rain?” Pidge snorts. “I’m not crazy enough to risk pneumonia like you.”

“Hey, sometimes I like the simple things,” Lance says, “and one of those is walking around in the rain.”

As if on cue, the downpour becomes a torrent, the sky dumping buckets of water on her car where she sits huddling in the driver’s seat. “Oh, really?” Pidge retorts, rolling her eyes. “You’d better not walk here unless you want me to use your quintessence as if it’s a thirteen-volt battery.”

“Please, I know you need another car to jumpstart your battery,” Lance says. “And since you asked so nicely, I’ll even bring you my umbrella since I’m guessing you didn’t bother with yours when you left.”

Pidge slumps in her seat, tugging her hood over her face as if he’s there to witness her embarrassment when she admits, “That would be…nice.”

(Too bad an umbrella won’t keep puddles from soaking into her socks.)

“All right, hang tight, Pidge!” Lance says. “I’m already in my car, so I’ll be there in a bit.”

Huh, so some of the rain she hears is on his end. “I’ll be here,” Pidge mumbles, “waiting for you…as usual.”

“Hey, don’t be like that!” he says over the rumbling of his car’s engine. “Your knight-in-shining-armor - your very own Sir Lancelot - is on his way to rescue you!”

“Great!” Pidge says with false cheer. Sure, Lance is coming to get her, but she’s still stranded in the rain after the weather service broadcast a flash flood warning to her phone. “Just don’t die because you’re talking on your phone while driving in the dark during a storm.”

“If the Galra and a bunch of other crazy aliens couldn’t kill me, this won’t.”

Pidge runs her fingers through her rain-soaked ponytail and grumbles, “It better not, so please put your phone away and concentrate on driving.”

“All right, fine,” Lance says, and she can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “I thought you found the sound of my voice soothing or something…”

Ah, right, she told him that a few nights ago when she made the mistake of calling him after a nightmare kept her from falling back to sleep.

"It's not like I'm about to have a panic attack now," Pidge bites.

"You sure you're okay, Pidge?"

The concern in his voice...startles her; is he worried a tsunami will wash her away too?

Well, she already decided that fear is completely irrational, so she forces a smile onto her face and says, "I'm fine now that I know you're on your way, Lance."

"Uh—" He breaks off with a cough before he falls silent, the only sound coming from her phone the low hum of his car's radio.

"Lance?" Pidge prompts. "Are you—"

"Fine!" Lance exclaims brightly. "Great since my car still has a working battery! I'll be there in ten minutes, so see you, Pidge!"

He hangs up without giving her the chance to reply.

Pidge, not a little confused, stares at her phone's screen until it darkens, her brow furrowed. She's known Lance for the better part of a decade, but his behavior can still be such a mystery to her, especially of late. It’s almost as if he l—

Maybe she should just take the direct approach and ask him if anything's eating at him.

Luckily Lance doesn't leave her with enough time to really puzzle over it. His car's headlights flash obnoxiously - the jerk has his high-beams on! - through her windshield as he pulls into the parking spot in front of hers. A heartbeat later the driver's door swings open and Lance steps out, opening a Sailor Moon umbrella.

(She makes a mental note to ask - or tease - him about it later, and she won't take "It's my niece's" for an answer.)

He raises a hand and waves, his face barely discernible through the water splattered on her windshield, but she opens her door when he rounds his car.

The sound of the rain was muffled with her ensconced insider her car, but now it hammers down, pattering against Lance's umbrella and hitting her face as she turns to him.

"Hope you didn't miss me too much," Lance says, voice louder than usual to make himself heard over the rain.

Pidge raises an eyebrow and points out, "I saw you at work on Thursday." Never mind that something in her chest loosens at the sight of the smile - warmer than this quiznaking miserable weather - curling his lips...

"And yet you were desperate enough to drain your battery just for an excuse to call me for help." Lance's smile morphs into a smirk that has the unfortunate side effect of both irritating and endearing her.

Pidge snorts and mutters, "As if I need an excuse." She presses the button to pop her hood open before turning back to Lance. "Where's the jumper cable?"

Lance jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "In my trunk. Just wanted to make sure you were okay first." His gaze drifts over her, making her skin crawl with heat, but then he assesses, "You look a little cold."

Pidge rubs her arms, his comment reminding her of her trembling. "No k-kidding, so can we hurry up and jumpstart my car?"

"Okay, okay." Lance raises the hand not holding onto his umbrella defensively. "I forgot how bossy you are."

"I'm not bossy!" she retorts, but by then he's already retreated to his car, the rain covering up the sound of her voice.

But not the sound of his feet splashing through puddles.

Pidge sighs. What are the odds Lance knows how to jumpstart a car? Will he know on which terminal the black clamp goes? Will she need to show him?

Lance is a pilot; of course he knows how to do something so simple as jumpstarting a car, especially if he owns a jumper cable! But Pidge should step outside and hover near him...just in case.

Pidge winces the instant water soaks into her shoes - she should've worn boots rather than sneakers - but follows Lance to the front of her car. His umbrella handle is tucked awkwardly under his arm while he works on attaching the clamps of the jumper cable to her car's battery, his brow furrowed rather sweetly in concentration, at least until Pidge takes the umbrella.

He glances up in surprise, turning to her with wide eyes before a slow grin stretches over his lips. "For a tick I thought you were going to make me do this alone."

"Maybe if it wasn't raining," Pidge teases. She raises the umbrella over both their heads, huddling under its poor approximation of shelter.

(Lance is a better source of warmth anyway.)

Lance attaches a red clamp to the positive terminal on her car's battery and the black clamp to something metal. She trails after him to his car but can't help wondering, "You shut the ignition off, right?"

Lance frowns at her. "Can't you see the engine isn't on, Pidge?"

She smiles sheepishly and says, "Yes, now that you point it out."

"Then quit micromanaging me."

She shivers as he attaches the remaining two clamps to his car's battery, rain soaking into her clothes despite her efforts to stay under the umbrella. Her cold fingers loosen around the handle, too stiff to hold on properly, and she can't help a relieved shudder when Lance tells her it's time.

Her engine roars into life, a gleeful laugh escaping her when Lance whoops over the sound of two engines and the rain. "Perfect," she mumbles. "Now to let it charge for a few minutes..."

Her engine shudders and dies.

"What?" Pidge exclaims, her heart jumping into her throat. She smacks the steering wheel - as if that'll do any good - and groans, "No..."

A tapping on her window makes her jump, and she opens her door to Lance, sans Sailor Moon umbrella with his hood pulled over his head. "Didn't last, huh?" he observes regretfully.

Pidge shakes her head, slouching. "I'll have to buy a new battery in the morning," she says, "and..." She bites her lip before wondering, "Can you give me a ride home?"

Lance meets her eyes before he smiles and says, "I'll do you one better. You can spend the night at my place, and in the morning I'll take you to buy the battery before bringing you back here."

Pidge's jaw drops, but when she recovers - though her cheeks still feel hot enough to warm the interior of her car if only all the doors were closed - she says, "Lance, you don't have to do that. I can call my dad tomorrow and—"

"So you'll make me drive twice more in the rain?" Lance says, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow - which, frankly, looks absurd with his hair plastered to his head and water dripping down his face. "And one of those times without you to supervise me and make sure I don't commit some atrocity like texting while driving?"

Pidge throws up her hands and asks, "What are you, a teenager who just got his license?"

"Nope." Lance leans down, close enough to her level she can imagine the warmth of his breath touching her forehead. "Just a concerned friend who wants to do you a favor."

"Do you...owe me something?" Pidge wonders suspiciously.

"Come on, Pidge!" Lance rests his hands on her shoulders and shakes her slightly. "Let's have a sleepover like we used to on the Castle! You'll get warm and dry and be able to fall asleep to the sound of my oh-so-soothing voice if you want"—is he...blushing?—"and I'll even feed you. I might even have some hot chocolate mix and bread for you to slap some of that peanut butter onto if you want."

"But...I need pajamas," Pidge protests, though she knows she's already fighting a losing battle. "And a toothbrush—"

"I have an unused one," Lance says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "and I'll lend you something to sleep in. So...what do you say?"

Pidge's jaw flaps uselessly, taking in his hopeful expression and wondering if she can really make an objective decision about this with her heart hammering - does she really want to spend the night with Lance? - and with his obviously faked guilt trip.

"Fine," Pidge grumbles. Lance grins so brightly, his fist pumping, that she can't help a smile of her own.

But that doesn't stop her from warning him, "On one condition: I am not sharing my peanut butter with you."

Lance's car hydroplanes twice on the way to his apartment complex a few blocks from Garrison premises. Pidge holds tight to her seat belt, her heart bouncing in her chest until tires touch wet asphalt again.

Both times, she turns to Lance and socks his shoulder before saying, "Quit trying to kill us!"

Both times, he screeches in indignation and rubs his shoulder before retorting, "Quit trying to kill me!"

Both times, she retorts, "I barely hit you!"

And both times, he snorts before rolling his eyes and smiling with a fondness that makes her heart skip a beat for a reason that has little to do with fear that he'll skid off a cliff or into an overflowing canal.

"Relax!" Lance says after the second time. "I've got this, Pidge. I've driven in the middle of a hurricane before, so this is nothing."

Pidge crosses her arms. "You do know I have your mom's contact information and I can literally call her to fact check that claim?"

Lance laughs but presses a hand to his chest. "Oh, Pidge, you wound me by not trusting your old war comrade's words." When she continues to stare at him with her lips pressed together, utterly unimpressed, he scratches his ear sheepishly and confesses, "Fine, it was just a dying tropical storm, but come on!" He gestures broadly and adds, "We've been in the middle of space dogfights, so this really is nothing."

Pidge, in the end, can't fight her smile at the reminder - for all the misery that all caused her and her family and her planet - but she turns to the rain-streaked passenger window to hide it. "Just keep both hands on the steering wheel," she mumbles.

"As you wish, my dear Pidge," Lance says almost snidely, and she's pleased when he actually listens.

His apartment is familiar - she's visited many times by day or dry evening to play video games or watch a movie while eating takeout from that bizarre "Earth-alien" fusion place on the corner - but the walk from Lance's assigned parking spot to the door on the second floor deck feels long in the downpour.

Before Pidge can open the passenger door, Lance's hand on her arm freezes her. "Wait," he says. "I'll come around with the umbrella so you don't get too wet."

"You don't have to—" But his door shuts behind him, and Pidge barely sets foot outside - right in a puddle that soaks into her sneakers and the hems of her poor leggings - when he's there to greet her.

"By the way," Pidge says as he raises the umbrella over both their heads and she unthinkingly loops her arm through his, "what's with the Sailor Moon?"

Lance flushes, but he hides it well by reaching around her to grab her grocery bag and shove it into her free arm. "It's my, uh, niece's."

Pidge smirks. "I knew you'd say that."

"Let's just go inside," he grumbles.

They hightail it, running awkwardly standing close together under the umbrella before they give up on it and sprint full tilt, splashing through puddles with raindrops hitting her face and soaking into her hair when her hood flies off her head.

Pidge storms up the stairs ahead of Lance, and when her foot nearly slips out from under her, her breath escaping her in shock, he catches her around the waist. But she doesn't pause to consider the imprint of his touch on her, and by the time he unlocks his door and they pile into the warmth of his apartment, Pidge is shivering too violently to do much more than stand in her soaked clothes and tremble.

Lance shucking off his own wet jacket is enough to get her to move. She tugs hers off, handing it to him to hang on a hook from the shower rod in the bathroom, before kicking off her sneakers and peeling off her disgustingly wet socks and sinking her toes into the warm carpet in front of a vent blasting hot air.

Pidge shudders in relief, squatting in front of it as she combs her fingers through her sodden ponytail. She'll have to do something about all the tangles now too...

Lance clears his throat behind her, and she stands to see him handing her a towel and a set of old clothes. "You can, uh, change in the bathroom. I'll be in...the bedroom...changing my own clothes."

"Right." Pidge watches him retreat, his back to her while she admires the way his soaked shirt clings to his shoulders and shows off how the muscles in his back move.

And then he pauses in his bedroom doorway to glance over his shoulder, his eyes widening when they catch hers.

Heat rushes to her face when he turns back around and stretches his arms over his head with a groan before tugging off his shirt.

Pidge spins on her heel and buries her face in the towel he gave her. Did he do that because she was watching?

"Quiznak," she curses, her voice muffled in fabric.

Despite the chill she just escaped, Pidge splashes cold water onto her face once she's safely ensconced in the privacy of the bathroom. She's just here to spend the night, to accept the favor Lance offered her with no strings attached (for now), to maybe chat and play games with him before she catches a few hours of sleep on his surprisingly comfortable sofa.

No, she won't think about running her fingers through his damp hair or tracing the Blue Lion tattoo that peeks out of his shirt collar or feeling his breath warming her face or press her lips against his like she's wanted to do for years.

No, she won't think about damaging almost a decade of friendship for a kiss he might not want.

(But what if he...does?)

Pidge changes into the clothes Lance provided - an old, baggy t-shirt and a pair of soccer shorts with drawstrings she has to tie very securely - and brushes her teeth with a toothbrush she finds under the sink buried in a stockpile of beauty and hygiene products. She leaves her hair in its ponytail and figures it’ll be one problem to tackle in the morning.

She emerges from the bathroom and heads straight for the kitchen, intent on the snack she craved enough to leave her own apartment to drive to Target in the middle of a dreary winter storm. She locates a bag of bread in the fridge and pops two slices in the toaster before shrugging and helping herself to a Granny Smith apple. She cuts it up and dips the slices directly into the jar of peanut butter.

That’s how Lance finds her, sitting on the kitchen counter munching on apple slices and crunchy peanut butter right as the toaster disgorges her burnt toast.

Pidge offers him the jar. “Want some?”

Lance - looking comfortable in a bathrobe over his pajamas - stands across from her and raises an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t sharing with me.”

“I changed my mind out of the kindness of my heart,” she deadpans before her sarcasm fails and she flashes him a smile. She shakes the jar and nods at the toast. “Hope you don’t mind that it’s a little burnt?”

Lance laughs. “Lucky for you, I don’t.” He takes the slices - wincing and gasping “ah!” when they prove too hot - and drops them into a plate before grabbing a knife.

They share their snack quietly, with Lance leaning against the counter beside her. And when it’s a little too much - when his arm brushing against hers makes goosebumps rise across her skin - Pidge blurts, “Thank you.”

Lance turns to her, his eyes wide. “For…what?”

She bites her lip and stares at a fleck of peanut butter stuck to her middle finger. “For coming to get me in the middle of a storm and letting me spend the night even though I live literally ten minutes away.”

Lance smiles when she dares to glance at him. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t invite you over?”

“A…sane one, maybe.”

He snorts and walks off to wash his hands at the sink. “Good thing I’m crazy about you then.”

“Yes, good—” Pidge stares disbelievingly at the back of his head, her breath catching and heat flooding her and…yes, Lance’s ears are definitely turning red. Maybe she misheard her or just misinterpreted him. He can’t possibly have said what she thinks he did. “What?”

She holds her breath as Lance turns to face her, something intense but…familiar in his gaze, almost trapping her in place. Her heart pounds too quickly as he approaches her, one step at a time, every second dragging yet passing so fast when he stands right in front of her too soon.

“Lance,” she says, and she might’ve hated how breathy it sounds if he didn’t capture her lips in his the instant his name escaped them.

He pulls away too soon, barely giving her the chance to reciprocate, but the heat in his eyes and his body so close to hers and her own swirling thoughts and rising emotion make her slow to react, her tongue tied into knots.

Until Lance wonders in a low voice that sends a shiver up her spine, “What’re you thinking, Pidge?”

“How fitting it is that our first kiss tasted like peanut butter,” Pidge says, because for some reason that’s the first thing that popped into her head.

Lance’s jaw drops - obviously he wasn’t expecting that - but then he chuckles and asks, “Why?”

“Because I love peanut butter.” She rests her hands on his shoulders and tugs him closer until he stands between her knees within easy kissing distance.

She takes advantage of it immediately.

Pidge kisses Lance in the way she almost convinced herself she never would, hungrily, with her lips parted over his and her fingers gripping his robe. One of his hands cradles the back of her head, and the other sits on her knee, his finger only just brushing against the bare skin of her thigh under her borrowed shorts.

Her heart races as she tears away to gasp for breath before finally telling Lance, “But I love you more than peanut butter.”

“Oh, good!” exclaims Lance with a dazzling smile that she matches. But he clears his throat and flashes her a smirk. “I mean…my work here is done. I was starting to worry I’d have to break you two up.”

Pidge rolls her eyes but wraps her arms around his neck and laughs while he embraces her around the waist. She threads her fingers through his hair and listens to the sound of his steady breathing, shoving away the memory of a time she feared she’d never hear it again.

Lance shifts just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Is there any way I can convince you to spend the night more often without sabotaging your car?” When Pidge’s eyes widen, he hurriedly adds, “Not that I did this time!”

Pidge giggles and says, ���Maybe.”

His lips brush against hers as he murmurs, “Is ‘I love you too’ a good enough reason?”

Pidge’s chest is so warm she wonders how she almost froze in the rain barely an hour ago. She touches Lance’s cheek and says, “Help me replace my car’s battery. Then we’ll talk.”

[mare-sanguis]

A little Bill x Stan headcanon ♡ Self harm and depression~

The final fight was one month ago- and finally everyone was healing. 

Even the wounds on Stans face were gone. Only some scars were left.

Scars which would remind him of what happened- for the rest of his life.

They all really tried their best to get their shit together. They tried to meet up as often as possible to share their thoughts.

But some things were still left unspoken.

And especially Stan had them worried.

He wasnt the loudest of them all- but he also was never this quiet.

It just happened suddenly. The last day they saw him he seemed happy- never thought that something like this would follow.

But they cared to much to let it unspoken.

Bill was the first one to ask him.

"Stan- I... w-we all were w-wondering if everythings a-alright with you? Are y-you ok?"

Stan wasnt prepared for it, he just looked around in his friends group in confusion- didnt know how to answer because for him, for them, he wanted to be fine. To be ok.

"I'm good. Thanks. But why do you ask?"

"Because one day you were happy and now... youre like this." Eddie said, while dealing with some shit Richie was doing, muttering some swear words.

"Like this? Like how?"

It was Mikes turns. "Like... very lost in thoughts." Ben nooded to it.

"Everybody has a bad day sometimes. Dont you think?"

It was followed by silent noods- but they all knew well enough that it wasnt just one bad day.

And they were right. He didnt change. And it made them even more worried.

They were at the Quarry, in the water, the first time it happened. The first time they didnt know what to do. But it wasnt the last time.

Stan was the only one who wasnt in the cold blue water, that too worried the others. He instead was sitting at the small rock near by it- watching his friends having the time of their life, reading a book. And suddenly, it just hitted him.

The realisation that he could have lost his friends that day- that they could have died because of this psychopathic clown- hit him right in his face. It wasnt the best time, not the best moment and he hated himself for tearing the good mood down- everyone was laughing until they heard the soft sobs.

They all turned their heads in Stans direction, seeing him sitting there- looking completely lost, with the tears streaming down his face. He tried to calm down as quick as possible, to wipe away the tears- but his friends were faster and his tears and emotions too.

Bev got out of the water first and sat down next to him, followed by the others. Bev was like the mother of the group- always the first one when something was wrong. Always the one who understood the fastest.

"Whats wrong?" She placed a hand on his head and patted it. He didnt flinched, still tried to wipe the tears away.

"I dont know I... I just... my mind just keeps showing me pictures of you... all dead. We could have died that day..."

Everyone looked a bit shocked, but Bev just smiled.

"Well... we could have but we didnt. Because as a team we're strong enough to defeat who ever we want."

Stan just starred at the pages of the book, trying to calm himself down by thinking how stupid his behavior was now.

"I'm so sorry to bring the mood down like this. You should get back to where you all stopped." He whispered.

"No. We wont. Not until you stop crying and not until you stop making us worry." This time it was Richie. And his words were so true. It was like the first time he said something without joking.

"We see whats going on with you- we noticed the change right away." Eddie said.

"Was it really that obvious?"

"Well yeah it was."

Stan smiled a bit- and then Bill touched his hand, seeing Stan like this made him upset. Very upset. He was used to his his emotional outbursts but this time it was so different. It was pure and full of worries. He wasnt mad at anyone- he looked so different.

"We will h-help you through i-it. Thats a promise."

Stan smiled more. But he was still hurt inside- and his friends knew.

 

"Lets go back home." Ben said, just one hour later. Stan was still a mess and his eyes still red but he finally could see straight again. They nooded in agreement, packed up their things and headed back on the road, separating. Stan was ready to leave to but Bill stopped him right away.

"If you want... you... can come over. M-my parents arent home... until tomorrow morning."

Stan tiled his head slightly.

"I... dont know. I cant. Probably."

Eben if he looked like he was ok- he wasnt. His strange behavior wasnt the only thing that changed. It was summer- and he was still wearing long sleeves.

"Why not?"

"My father wont let me I guess. I should go now." He forced a smile on his face.

"Maybe next time." There still was it. This forced smile. Bill saw it clearly- and he didnt want to let Stan go like this.

So he grabbed his arm- he didnt put much force in it but it made Stan flinch anyway. He hissed out a quiet breath and pulled his arm away- rubbig it slightly.

"W-what was that S-stan...?" Bill sounded worried, tried not to stutter.

"What was what? Its my arm."

"How you... r-reacted to it. Why?"

"I just hit my arm by accident. Hurts a little- you know."

Bill nooded- didnt want to bother him more. He wanted to leave him alone, to let him go. But when he saw the red on his sleeve he knew he couldnt let him go. Not now and not like this.

"Whats this?" He pointed at the red spot on Stans sleeve. He heard him swearing a little "shit".

"Blood... I guess?" He wanted to sound like he doesnt know.

"Why? Were does it come from, Stan?"

"I dont know?"

They both didnt notice that Bill didnt even stuttered once.

"Stan what is it? What did you do?"

Stan turned away from him.

"Nothing." He rubbed the blood away as it dripped down his hand.

"Youre to honest t-to be a good l-liar. Youre hurting yourself."

"I'm not." He stepped away from his friend, tears starting to surface up again. Sobs escaping him.

And then he felt a soft hug around him.

"I told you. We will help. Thats a promise. What ever it is. Thats w-why we're friends."

Stan returned the hug, tried to calm down.

"Lets get h-home... and take c-care of your wounds."

Stan followed him home in silence, to awkward to speak a word. As they arrived home at Bills he straight went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, leaving the other boy awkwardly standing in the floor.

"Lets go to my room." He heard Bill saying and Stan followed him up. His arm hurt likr hell, it was burning.

They sat down on the floor.

"Show m-me please..." he held out his hand.

Stan looked at it, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"You dont have to feel uncomfortable." Bill smiled a bit.

"Fine." Stan rolled up his sleeve, revealing a deep cut which was bleeding again.

"Oh Stan..." the other boy sighed.

"Why?"

Stan looked down.

"I dont know."

"I-is it b-vecause of IT...?"

"No... it was more than one month ago... how can it be related to this thing...?"

"Then... why...?"

Stan shrugged.

"Dont tell anyone."

"I wont. B-but... shat ever b-bothers you... what e-ever it is... I'll ... we'll help you. I promise."

Stan smiled.

"And what ever keeps you up at night... you have us Bill...~"

They both smiled at each other as Bill fixed the bandages.

 

And what remains is the shadow of my past

I look in the mirror and hate what I see

I don't recognise my face anymore

And wonder where all of my dreams are gone

Feeling lost and empty

I know I can't turn back time

But I just don't want to give up

I can't give up.

Notes:

The lyrics at the end are from Lacuna Coils new single "Save Me"

[tigrecreux]

I dont want people i know in real life on my social medias. Its joke to you & an outlet to me. We’ll never see things the same way. Puzzle pieces that’ll never fit. Literally the only place i can be around strangers and no one bothers me or shoves me off for my feelings. So no, it’s definitely not what Adrianna said. I dont do it for attention or for people to ask “whats going on”. It rarely happens. Its more supportive or others sharing their similar stories. But If its out of your sight, its out of your mind. You already dont care about who’s following or not or what im really doing/feeling/saying on them or them good or bad. So i dont see the point of you or your people being on them. I was seriously fine before you. Everything had a place i was happy on IG, kept my thoughts on FB, went dark on tumblr & no one bothered me or stalked me or talked shit about me as if they had a right to. I was able to say what i wanted, when i wanted, how i wanted, without scrutiny & unnecessary backlash…BECAUSE I WAS LIVING MY LIFE. happy or sad, it was mine & no one was trying to ruin it. I could sleep at night because people werent up late at night talking about me with disgust. You want “good conversation” but you only bring up all the bad stuff i post anyway. And like i said, anything good i bring is ignored or received with lack luster response. You are not interested. I am light & you are dark. Its not gonna work. One cant be around without a little bit of spread from the other..i let your darkness in but you’re running from my light, you can come to me but you refuse to let me go to you. You prefer your pride and everything else over me…& i was willing to lay so much down for you…this shit isnt equal.

You want me to NOT care & thats not who i am. Caring isnt a bad trait. Wanting to be cared for isnt a bad trait either. You’re keeping me stuck in a “romantic” relationship where I’ll receive love & affection & respect _IF_ i have nothing to say about the bad behaviors & treatment from you & others…IF i keep to myself… IF i dont put others in their place…IF i dont defend whats mine…IF i dont expect respect from people…IF i pretend like im receiving the love i want/need/deserve.. IF i become a doormat without feelings…a robot. Im not happy and you wont let me go. That’s what she’ll grow up to see…. A weakened woman who doesnt feel love unless she shuts up about her feelings & pretends that her life is what she wants…. someone paid to listen for one hour a week is all she has & look…this week & next week have been canceled due to “unforeseen events”…. So what now????? I wait out these two weeks?? With no outlet???? Cant write cuz mother will look…cant type cuz your people cant wait to find something… cant talk because no on believes they should listen…AND ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN???? I should not talk to.

This sucks… there’s no connection in my life… dont worry about losing yours.

Ive stopped asking you to love me, to respect me, to protect me, to care about how i feel, to consider someone other than yourself…thats all basic shit I deserved from the beginning with having to earn it. Im asking you to NOT give a shit…not caring is what you’re very good at..im asking you to do what youre good at…im asking you to let me go and you wont. I dont need to be with someone that looks at me and sees difficulties. You dont need to be with someone that asks you to be a better person. Neither of us are filled with joy when we see one another anymore… i may still smile…but that’s probably just you hyping yourself up & using your superpowers …We dont need to be together. You’re parents are happier apart. Mine are miserable together. Darren & dom are miserable together. So many people are miserable together because theyre not with someone who’s doing what needs to be done.

Let Cubby see us happy. We’re only going to be miserable because you find every excuse to not change & an issue with my basic needs, which causes me to “do nothing but complain”. I dont care to “prove everyone wrong” or “win” anymore. I dont care if we “look” happy… it doesnt make sense if we’re not actually happy. You wont get better & im not gonna go back to worse. I cant live on your words anymore. Im tired of hearing “be patient with him” & you cant be patient with me. I cant deal with the way you talk to me or talk down on me. Or act like its all good then explode all over me…

There’s nothing to win in this for either of us. You dont get the quiet girl. I dont get the loving man. Its a lose/lose.

[mymindsabouttoexplode]

wow long

my aunt and I have this thing where we vent to eachother about the toxicity of this family and I honestly dont think what were doing is bad because were not insulting anyone or anything we just talk about negative reactions/situations with my siblings, fights in the family, and what my parents did and how it made us feel and the possible connections it could have to how my siblings and i react to things due to being in this environment (my aunt, though affected by it, did start living with my nuclear family when she was nearly an adult already so she wasnt raised in this environment). The toxicity constitutes how my family continuously talks bad about eachother and somehow manages to pretend that they hadnt and they claim they love their family and its hard to tell if they truly mean it or if their brain kind of just tells them they should feel that way? idk how to explain it but its very unintentional...they dont even realize they do it. Irrational behaviors on the plate too bc my mom doesnt handle negative situations well so when she actually does something to handle a bad situation its usually in an unhealthy way and if she isnt doing something she is enabling the bad behavior of others, with my dad being the main target of these actions (she rationalizes his behavior, tells us to ignore it, doesnt confront him because she fears his reactions [he is not abusive he just might not take it well] and much more). He loves and cherishes intensely, but he constantly thinks nobody loves him (despite how often I have expressed my love deeply and how my other siblings have too, which to be honest is infuriating because it feels like he doesnt acknowledge the love WE DO give him ex. he’ll complain like “why'd u do that for ur mom but not for me” on MOTHERS DAY even tho we did something similar for him on Fathers Day... are u really in that much need of constant validation...) and has a history of my grandparents disliking him at the beginning of my parents relationship (to the point they eloped), despite them living with us now and , to be honest, i dont think they care much for him (theres not even hatred, just no feelings for him). This has lead him to have a vicious cycle of constantly needing attention and feeling badly almost instantly when he isnt given it. Along with this hes rather obnoxious and has a terrible sense of humour and is bad at reading social cues. (ex: he says a terrible, rude, joke and none of us find it funny/or tell him that was inappropriate to say. sometimes reactions from my siblings are more intense than they need to be but its because of how we were raised...he often leaves this situation thinking “everybody hates me, i cant even joke around with my kids, i shouldnt say anything at all because it just makes people mad because they hate me” rather than actually take what were saying and reflecting on his behavior. He has very similar reactions when he talks negatively about our grandparents who are honestly doing nothing and we dont reply the way he wants). There is also a constant habit my parents do of keeping secrets, talking behind eachothers backs (in the most toxic way possible, its not for pure venting or wanting support), or constantly thinking that every little action has a deep meaning behind it (ex: my aunt doesnt talk much one morning- this is because she is sleepy from having a late work shift and is rather introverted. My parents think its because shes mad at them and come up with all these reasons as to why she could be and why shes being “terrible” rather than simply asking “hey whats up you dont seem very talkative this morning are you okay?” This later influences how they treat her) We’ve only started talking about it in the recent years and we only do when either I feel she has been wronged (they do treat her differently after talking about her and she is constantly out of the loop of it because they never confront her - another habit, fear of confrontation, that was passed down to my siblings and i- and she is often left confused and bothered) or they have hurt me emotionally.

Recently, I think my aunts been acting more openly, expressing more of her feelings about these behaviors to them or having negative reactions that she normally hid when talking to them when topics such as my dad, who she feels is mean and irrational (he talks bad about my grandparents/her parents and its true his reactions to things are often irrational unfortunately). My mom talked to me about it in the car and was like “hey it seems ur aunt has been reacting negatively when i bring up your dad...” and I know she knows we talk, but not specifically what it contains. I feel it is limited to venting in her mind or she possibly projects that we talk like how she talks about others, with the latter being extremely toxic. I of course dont tell her about what my aunt and i discuss because I’m not sure how she’ll take it. She tells me “your aunt doesnt seem to be one to talk about her emotions (this is true..my aunt prefers to handle her emotions independently and its not because shes trying to not rely on anybody, its just how she prefers to handle them) so if somethings bothering her you should tell me so I can change myself for the better...dont tell her you told me though and I wont react drastically so she knows we’ve talked....i know you guys vent to eachother because your close but...itd mean a lot if u told me when shes upset by something Ive said...also keep this conversation just between us ( I feel like she sometimes thinks I tell my aunt what we talked about...sometimes I do do this so i have no right to get mad. Obviously my mom is observing my reaction at this moment to see if I actually do that [which I just know from experience] and I try to keep my emotions very hidden and just say okay)”. And I honestly...dont know how to handle that. I dont know whether I should actually tell my mom when my aunt is bothered, especially since the whole “dont tell her” thing was tacked onto the end, which feels uncomfortably secretive. Or if I should tell my aunt about this conversation we just had because its bothering me and I usually rely on her for support when I dont know what to do, but IM hesitating because Im not sure of how she’d react to this information, it also never feels good to tell her specifically after Ive been told not to. Or if I should choose to just not tell my mom anything regarding my aunt and not tell my aunt about the conversation, which I feel could present consequences of its own/it might slip because I constantly think about it. Its stressing me out. To the point I feel like dying because my brain is never relaxed and I feel like I cant handle it sometimes. Life really shouldnt be this complicated and it makes so uncomfortable and anxious and I just want to leave.