#will bring it to my therapist on thursday. talk about it then.

[vulpinesaint]

forgot what i meant to be posting about earlier. was watching a video from a catholic priest on youtube the other day and one of the points was like. should we pray for the devil. and what he said was that unlike us, angels have a fixed nature, and that from the beginning of time satan chose to be the way that he is. so he cannot be saved. and therefore there is no reason to pray for him. which is fucking crazzyyyyyyyy!!!!! first of all what the fuck do you mean he's evil because he has always been that way. if he can't change then he doesn't really have free will. if he was that way from the very beginning then that means god created him that way. and if he was resigned to be fucked up and evil forever and ever then what was all the time he spent Not being fucked up and evil :| to rebel you have to be a part of the system first... is this implying that lucifer was sitting around going man i can't wait to try and overthrow god someday once he does something that upsets me... and god being omnipotent just went yeah this is fine. not going to address this until you do something ill advised at which time i will Cast You Down and Damn You Forever. not giving you a pass on this one god you literally made that guy that way :| and frankly just because he isn't going to change isn't a reason to pray for someone i think. we can never have too much compassion and hope and if we can carry it for someone reprehensible then we can carry it for everyone. and we Should carry it for everyone. that's like... the central thing... this is how we get discrimination by turning off our good will once we deem something evil or irreparable... which is all to say that that specific take on lucifer is fascinating and fucked up and wrong. and doesn't matter cause i like that guy better than god anyway. so.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 15.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: curses, mentions of jk's unaliving attempt, explicit content: hickeys, fingering, they are so in love and can't stop saying it, unprotected sex, creampie

☆word count: 2.6k

☆a/n: i love them, and my bad if there are any typos this is heavily unedited haha let me know if you see any!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook feels anxious. Ever since Taehyung asked him to meet up to talk, he’s been feeling incredibly anxious, like his heart might explode in his chest. Even worse - he’s afraid he’ll run into you when he gets to the apartment, and after what you said on Thursday, he thinks he might break with no way to heal if he sees you.

He’s scheduled an appointment with his therapist later today. All he can do is hope that it’ll help. And that his conversation with Taehyung will help, too.

Taehyung is in the living room when Jungkook gets home, playing on the Switch. He pauses his game the second Jungkook walks in, and they both stare at each other for a time, an uneasy silence filling the apartment.

Taehyung breaks it first. “Hey.”

Jungkook takes off his shoes but keeps his coat on as he heads towards the living room. “Hey.”

“How have you been?” Taehyung asks.

It’s awkward, and Jungkook hates it. He’s been hating way too much stuff in his life lately.

“Fine,” Jungkook replies. 

He can’t bring himself to return the question, and he sits at the other extremity of the couch, as far away from Taehyung as he possibly can.

“Listen…” Taehyung says when he realizes Jungkook won’t say anything else. “I’m sorry I punched you.” He winces as his eyes go over the bruise and wound Jungkook knows adorn his cheek. “Shit, I actually got you good.”

“You did,” Jungkook coldly replies.

Taehyung eyes his knuckles, which have also turned red and purple from the blow. “I really am sorry for that. I don’t know why I punched you, and I’m a little disgusted with myself that I did.”

“You were mad. It makes sense.”

Taehyung shakes his head no. “It doesn’t make sense. But… man, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Because you told me you’d kill me if I did touch her?” Jungkook chuckles bitterly. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Yet you still went behind my back and fucked her,” Taehyung states, a hint of anger flashing behind the words.

“I didn’t fuck your sister,” Jungkook spits. “It’s never been like that with her.”

Taehyung remains silent for a few seconds and then sighs deeply. “Then how is it?”

His tone is cool, composed, and a lot nicer than Jungkook expected it to be. It calms down the anger that was starting to simmer in his blood better than a cold shower would have.

“Wha - what?” Jungkook lets out.

Taehyung offers him a smile that seems forced, yet Jungkook sees it for what it is - he’s trying to make an effort.

“How is it with Y/n?”

Jungkook gulps, gaze widening. “Huh… well…” he trails off, eyes falling to his hands, where he’s been mindlessly pulling at the calluses he gets from working out. “It’s… great. I know she’s your sister but fuck… she’s amazing.”

“She is,” Taehyung agrees.

“But I fucked everything up in Paris when I kissed Gabrielle.”

The silence that follows is heavy, interrupted by Taehyung’s sigh what feels like an eternity later.

“Were you guys together then?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook shrugs. “We weren’t together together. But yes we were.” He pauses, and his throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper when he tries to swallow. “We started on Valentine’s Day.”

Taehyung’s nose is scrunched up, much like you sometimes do, when Jungkook looks at him. “That’s… a long time ago.”

“We ended in Paris, though,” Jungkook adds. “Except last Thursday.”

“I thought you and Lisa…” Taehyung trails off.

“It happened once last month,” Jungkook immediately explains, probably far more defensive than necessary. “And Y/n actually caught us together so… I ended things with Lisa right away.”

“I remember Lisa being pissed about it,” Taehyung admits. “But then she said that it was because of another girl, and looking back I was stupid to think it was Gaby.”

Jungkook purses his lips. “I haven’t spoken to Gaby in person since Paris. We only texted a couple of times.”

Including that one time she’d given him shit for not telling you about his promise to her.

“Right…” Taehyung trails off. He sighs, sitting back on the couch, throwing Jungkook a look. “What do you want with my sister?”

Jungkook gulps around a sudden lump in his throat. What does he want with you? He already knows, but can he tell Taehyung? Can he tell your brother that he’s so irreversibly in love with you he thinks he’s been dying since you said it was a lapse of judgment on Thursday?

That he almost died in July after he lost you?

“You want the truth?” Jungkook asks, his heart rate spiking. “I’m in love with her. I just want her to be happy, and of course I wish she’d want to be happy with me, but I don’t think that’ll happen after last Thursday.”

“You’re in love with her?” Taehyung repeats.

Jungkook gulps. “Yes.”

Taehyung nods and, to Jungkook’s surprise, taps Jungkook’s shoulder. “Noted. Come home, Jungkook. You should talk to her.”

Jungkook is stunned silent, and he just stares at Taehyung, just stares at his best friend unblinkingly, not understanding where the conversation went.

“What?”

“Come home,” Taehyung repeats. “I’m not mad at you. I was mostly mad that you both hid it from me for months, but clearly I was wrong.” He pauses, chuckles lightly. “At least that’s what Ari said. She quite literally beat some sense into me.”

So… this is it? The biggest obstacle to you and him… wasn’t even an obstacle?

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side, gaze widening as if he’s reminiscing about what happened with Ariane. “She said that I was a dick for not letting you guys figure your shit out. I think Gaby told her about the two of you.”

That would make sense, considering that the two girls are best friends. 

“Oh,” is all Jungkook manages to say.

Taehyung surveys him for a few seconds, as Jungkook’s world crumbles down around him. It’s like the floor disappeared, and he’s plummeting towards the ground with no parachute to save him.

Taehyung is not opposed to your relationship.

If you want it, Jungkook can be with you.

“So come home,” Taehyung repeats. “Talk to Y/n. Fix shit with her.” Taehyung smiles, and this time it’s fully genuine. “I just want you both to be happy.”

Jungkook nods, and he has to take a deep breath to refrain from crying then and there. “Okay.” He nods again. “Okay, I will talk to her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Taehyung just carefully observes Jungkook. Jungkook wonders, can Taehyung hear the wild beats of his heart at the perspective of talking to you?

“Can I…” Taehyung starts, and then his eyes drop to his hands in his lap. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s heart seems to come to a full halt in his chest. “Yeah?”

“What happened last summer…” Taehyung trails off. “Is it related to Y/n?”

A bottle of wine crashing on the pavement comes to Jungkook’s mind. But he never told Taehyung - how would he know?

“What do you mean?” Jungkook replies, pulling on his piercings.

“In July.” Taehyung sighs, meeting Jungkook’s gaze for a few seconds. “Lisa told Sera, and she told me and Jimin.”

Jungkook hates it. He hates it so much, hating the vulnerability that it imposes him.

“Ah.” He gulps, and he thinks about you for a moment.

Thinks about the fact that you were the only thing on his mind when he was so close to ending it.

“It was partly caused by losing her, yes,” Jungkook finally answers, and he’s suddenly blinking back tears.

“Fuck, JK…” Taehyung trails off. “You really should have told me about her…”

“I didn’t think you’d be… open-minded,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders. “And she’d already ended things with me then.”

Taehyung nods once, and then sighs again. “Please don’t keep everything to yourself now, okay? I really don’t want you to think you’re alone. And I really don’t want you to ever feel like… that is a solution. So please talk to me, talk to Jimin whenever you need help, okay?”

Jungkook can’t speak around the lump in his throat, so all he does is nod. Taehyung understands - they’re best friends after all.

“I love you, bro,” Taehyung adds. “Please talk to Y/n.”

“I will,” Jungkook answers, his voice choked up with emotion.

All he can hope for is for you to be open to the conversation, whenever it comes. 

*****

For the first time in months, Jungkook feels at peace.

You’re here with him, and for the first time, he knows he won’t have to let go. Maybe that’s why he’s kissing you slowly, softly - you have all of eternity stretched ahead of you. Yet it seems you want more. Your kisses grow deeper, and soon his blood is pulsing at his ears, shooting down to his dick, and Jungkook pushes his tongue in your mouth.

It’s like he’s discovering you for the first time. He marvels at your sight, at your taste, at the way you moan softly against his lips. He swallows your sounds, inhales your inebriating scent, and he climbs on top of you, gently parting your legs with his knee so that he can be as close to you as possible.

He has half a thought that Taehyung is somewhere in the apartment, but the way you wrap your legs around his waist makes him forget everything until there’s just you and him.

He leaves your mouth to find your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you. A second later he’s sucking a hickey on your skin, and you moan softly, hand pulling at his hair.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

He pauses, just content with being close to you. “I love you, peach.”

Your arms wrap tightly around him, and though you have to be aware of his erection pressing against you, you both just stay there for a moment. 

“Love you too, Kook. So, so much.”

It’s the way you say the words. Jungkook immediately feels the need to be inside you, to be surrounded by you, and he kneels between your legs so that he can take off his shirt. You run a hand on his body, awe in your eyes like you, too, can’t believe you made it in the end. He takes a moment to look at you, to take in the way your eyes sparkle with emotion - with love, lust and yearning.

He loves you. And the best part about it is, you love him too.

“Fuck, peach,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

You sit up, taking off your shirt in one swift motion that reveals so much skin - you weren’t wearing a bra - and Jungkook thinks he’ll go insane. It’s like he forgot what you looked like despite seeing you just a few days ago - it feels like a whole lifetime ago.

You’ve gained muscles over the months apart. You’re leaner, and there’s a strength to your curves that makes Jungkook’s dick twitch in his pants. The tattoo on your ribs is all too attractive too, and Jungkook takes a moment to trace it as you lie back down under his watchful gaze.

The art is beautiful. Delicate, with fine lines that have sunk perfectly in your skin. Jungkook wonders who your artist is, if they’d be able to tattoo something on him too, something to remind him of you. But then you’re whining from lack of attention, and Jungkook leans down, kissing you deeply.

You run your hands on the skin of his back, nails lightly digging in his skin, and when he grunts softly, you whisper, “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He goes fully insane. Insanely in love, perhaps. He undresses you, kissing every inch of skin revealed, and though he wants to taste you, to eat you out until you come undone on his tongue, his dick is throbbing too painfully for him to ignore it.

You’re glistening, your arousal evident the second his eyes land on you. He still takes a moment to slip two fingers inside of you as he kisses you again, swallowing your soft moans as they come. And when he thinks you’re ready, stretched enough for his dick, Jungkook takes off the rest of his clothes. His dick springs free, already rock hard like it always is with you, and he jerks himself off a couple of times as he watches you, as you watch him through half-lidded eyes.

“Condom?” he asks, though he hopes you’ll say no.

He wants to feel all of you again.

You shake your head no. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Fuck,” he curses, his dick hardening even more. “Fuck, peach, I love you.”

He comes closer, rubbing his tip on you, collecting your juices. It’s so sensitive without a condom, and he has to bite the tip of his tongue so that he doesn’t come right away. It doesn’t help that you’re so wet. That a moment later he’s slipping in, inch after inch, your walls sucking him in. 

It doesn’t help that you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as your eyebrows bunch together from the pleasure. You’re so hot like this, so sinfully beautiful, and some feral part of him just wants to pound into you, to fuck you until the whole neighbourhood knows that you’re his forever now.

But he tames himself, slowly pulls out before pushing all the way in again. 

“Kook,” you moan, and your hand finds one of his where it’s holding your waist. “Come close.”

You don’t have to ask twice, especially not as he wants you close, too. So he bends down, cages you between his forearms, and then he establishes a slow rhythm. Your hips lift to meet his, your walls tightening around him from the motion, and he knows he’ll come fast.

You’re too tight, too wet, for him to hold on for a long time. So he tells you how much he loves you. Whispers on your lips that he never wants to be separated from you again, that he thinks you’re the reason he’s alive. You confess your love back, tell him that he’s so worthy of your love, that you wouldn’t want anyone other than him. 

You tell him that you’ll love him when you’re old, which makes him laugh against your lips. There’s beauty in the thought, in the knowledge that he does have a lifetime with you.

“You’re…” he trails off, because he has no words to describe how amazing you are, and his dick is stealing most of the blood from his brain.

So he kisses you instead. Kisses you slow, kisses you deep, his motions growing faster until they turn sloppy, and then he pushes all the way in, his dick twitching as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. You hold him tight, pussy pulsating around him, and Jungkook’s high keeps going on and on, your lips muffling his groans and soft moans.

“I love you,” he says again when he starts being able to think once more.

He’ll never get tired of telling you.

“I love you too, Kook,” you whisper.

He’ll never get tired of hearing that, too.

Read chapter fifteen here!

☆☆☆☆☆

he is so in love with her please send help. Let me know what you think of the drabble!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[h-ngm-nssluttt]

Color My World

Jake Seresin x Reader

Ella Kazansky never thought she would be able to find someone to bring color into her world after her boyfriend Max passed away. But someone she least's expects brings the most vibrant new colors into her world.

This will be a series.

Color My World Chapter 1

Song: “Dancing with your ghost” - Sasha Alex Sloan

I sat in this uncomfortable waiting room chair, stared at that same stain spot on the carpet and looked through those same 3 magazines on the table in the corner for what felt like the thousandth time. I mean I guess if I do the math I’ve sat here in this same spot 30 times in the last 2 years. It’s routine at this point. I walk in the door, Sarah at the front desk welcomes me with a ‘good morning Ms. Kazansky’, I sit in this exact same chair and then I walk through that door in front of me, spill my feelings like they expect me to and then when it all over I go on with my life. Not that I’m doing much living. I think I’m just existing at this point because I honestly don’t know how to live after a loss like this.

Each week is filled with a therapy appointment, a grief support group, work and spending time with the one person who doesn’t look at me with pity or judgment for how I’m handling my life right now. Most of ‘our’ friends have given up on me… well more like I pushed them away because it hurt too much. Natasha Trace is the only one who hasn’t left and I’m honestly grateful.

The door opens and I see my therapist stand there with a smile on her face as she gestures for me to come in. I take my seat in the middle of the couch as she sits across from me grabbing her notebook and pen.

“How are you doing today Ella?”

I turn my head and glance out the window in her office as she says the same line she always does. And I lie like I usually do.

“I’m doing okay”

In reality id like to say ‘I’m feeling fucking horrible’ but everyone knows that wouldn’t go over well.

After talking about my ‘feelings and grief’ for an hour I make my way to my usual spot. Headphones on my head as I walk down the street towards the little coffee shop by the beach where Natasha meets me every Thursday to help me recoup from the therapy.

The slight breeze blows my hair around as I take a sip from my coffee watching everyone on the beach. Everyone smiling, laughing. Living. 

I smile as I watch him walk out towards the water. The muscles on his back moved with each step he took. The breeze blowing my hair around as I just sat there and admired him. God… how did I get so lucky. His blue eyes meet mine as he calls back to me.

“Well you coming?”

I smiled as I didn't waste a second before shedding my jacket and sliding my dress off before running to him in the water. The second I was close enough his arms wrapped around me and lifted me off my feet as a wave crashed around us. The sound of his laugh was muffled by the sounds of the waves. We stood there just holding onto one another. A random kiss placed on top of my head every few seconds.

“It doesn’t get better than this El…”

I smile as i pull my head back from his bare chest as i look up into his blue eyes that i love so much as a smile crosses his face

“I’m madly in love with you, you know that?”

“Trust me i know Max-a-million”

His smile grew before he leaned down and kissed me… 

“Earth to Ella….. How did it go today?”

I snap back from my thoughts as i  scoff slightly as I turn in my seat and look at Natasha

“same as usual. There’s no timeline on progress and healing. Apparently, I’m making progress according to her but I definitely don’t feel like it.”

She looks at me as she rests her arms across the table

“I think you have. At least a little bit. Ella, the grief isn’t going to go away overnight you know”

“I know… I just didn’t think it would still be hurting this badly to miss him almost 2 years later”

“And I wish for you that it didn’t hurt this much, but your entire world got flipped upside down… How are you feeling about it being almost 2 years?”

“I honestly don’t know. It honestly still feels like it was yesterday. My mom keeps trying to get me to move back home”

“She wants you to move back onto base?”

“Yeah. Both her and dad. They seem to think that me leaving my place is the best idea to help move on. I came home last week and I found her there trying to pack up some of his stuff… I flipped shit. Told her to get out. She’s been calling but I won’t pick up”

Natasha looks at me with a shocked expression

“she just went into your place and touched his stuff?”

“Yeah…”

“Have you made any progress on putting any of it away like your therapist recommended?”

I sigh as I look away from her back out to the beach

“I tried… I really did but… I just can’t do it… it makes me feel like I’m trying to get rid of him…”

I open the door to my place and flick on the lights. The sound of Gizmo running to the door fills the silent house. I smile as I lean down and give him a quick pet before dumping my bag by the door. I sit down on the chair. His chair. As I sit there quietly. Everything in this room of his is just where he left it. The jacket tossed on the bench by the door. The empty glass next to the Jameson bottle on the cart by the record player. Everything. Gizmo sits between my legs and lets out a whine.

“I know. I know… I miss him too”

If you stepped into my place you would think he’s still here. Between all of his things, the pictures that litter every available surface like the fridge, the walls, the tables. So many memories scattered around. Memories that make me realize my life is all black and white now. The kitchen where we would dance and sing while making meals together is quiet and lifeless. The breezeway where we would lay on the couch on rainy days with the French doors open just listening to the rain. I haven’t opened those doors since. The laughter that would fill the living room when we would have a game night together. Gone. The boxes of games forgotten in the corner of the room. The only thing that hasn’t changed is music. I will constantly have his favorite records playing. Honestly if I sit there, close my eyes and listen I swear it feels like I can hear his voice singing along. I can still see his smile, hear his laugh as he would dance with me around the house. But the second I open my eyes it’s gone. I’m alone and that nagging feeling in my body… the feeling I can’t describe is there to remind me that he’s gone.

The day Max died was the day all the color was taken from my life… because Max put all the color into my life… and now I’m back to black and white.  

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

First chaper and second chapter will be about Ella, Jake will make his appearance in chapter 3!

This is my first time writing a series on tumblr so be patient with me. I am going to create a master list for this series as well.

If you would like to be added to the notification list shoot me a message!

Chapter 2 coming shortly!

[its-all-papaya]

landoscar with 24 pls

kiss prompt fills are back bby!! and this one got rlly out of hand!!

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

24. as a reward | landoscar | 1.8k (but like. i rounded down. a lot.)

“Therapy,” Oscar says, apropos of nothing, on the first Thursday of summer break.

Lando looks up from his fridge, where he’s been poking around looking for breakfast, and knits his eyebrows together over his shoulder. Oscar is right where Lando had left him at the kitchen table, sweat from their run drying his shirt to his skin. He looks pleasant enough with his elbow propped on the table and his water bottle wedged between his thighs. Not like he’s just ambushed Lando about anything, least of all that fucking word again.

“Been talking to Jon?” Lando bites out. He turns back to the collection of containers and picks something at random. He’s got a feeling he’s not going to be hungry in a few minutes anyway.

Oscar’s fingers are tapping absently on the tabletop and it’s making Lando’s skin crawl. It goes like this every time anybody brings it up, like his body can’t physically bear the thought of the conversation.

“Not any more than normal,” Oscar says, which isn’t even a real answer.

Lando stares at him, deadpan, for a handful of seconds. Then he pries the lid off the container and sets about preparing the contents.

“Do you want anything to eat?” He asks Oscar.

“That’s alright,” Oscar responds, still unbothered. “Have you thought about it?”

“About eating?” Lando asks, incredulous.

“No,” Oscar says. The other thing, then.

“Yeah,” Lando says after a beat. He places the container in the microwave and sets the timer. It’s not even a lie - Oscar would know if it was; he’s scary good at figuring those things out when it comes to Lando. Also, Lando knows one word isn’t going to cut it in this conversation, but if Oscar wants to discuss this stupid subject, Lando’s going to at least going to make it difficult.

“What about it?” Oscar asks, tone exactly the same as it’s been all morning. Like they’re discussing the weather, or what route to take on their way back to Lando’s.

“That I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” Lando says. His eyes stay locked on the microwave plate, turning slowly behind the tinted glass, “All my…” he raises a hand and waves it half-heartedly, knowing Oscar will understand. He always does, somehow.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Oscar says. The microwave timer ticks down. “But I think it’s getting kind of close to one.”

Lando clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. “Yeah?” It sounds a bit mean, even to him.

“You’re not sleeping well,” Oscar says. Lando’s fingers tighten on the edge of the countertop. He’s going to run out of muscles to tense if Oscar keeps going. Oscar does, though, still measured when he says, “Might help you relax if you have someone to help sort through everything up there.”

“I don’t need to relax,” Lando says, “I need to drive better. A therapist isn’t going to fix that, I just have to get my shit together.”

The microwave timer goes off. Lando could slam the door closed if he wanted to, Oscar probably wouldn’t even react to it, but what he’s feeling isn’t even really anger. He’s not a child. The annoying thing is, he has thought through it all. He thinks through it every fucking Sunday, when he’s miserable in the shower after handing over another P2 trophy to the team and kicking himself about losing, kicking himself about not being happier about it. It’s not new, it’s just more, and it’ll all go away if he just starts performing. He doesn’t need a therapist to tell him that.

“It’s not about fixing things,” Oscar says as Lando carefully moves the container to the countertop. It’s hot still. He licks the tips of his fingertips where they’ve gone red from the heat.

Oscar keeps talking. “It’s like… you see Jon when you’ve got a backache, right? Or for a massage. Or it’s like the cold tub. They don’t change your driving, but you can drive better when your body feels better.”

“You have been talking to Jon,” Lando looks up at Oscar with something next to a glare – a little less hostile, though – as he locates a fork from his silverware drawer.

Oscar shrugs, “When we run into each other.” Lando’s eyes go back to him, and he at least has the sense to look a little apologetic, “You’re the main thing we have in common. It comes up.”

Lando had originally had plans to eat at the table, but the distance between himself and Oscar feels safer at the moment, so he stays put. “My brain?” he asks around his first bite.

“Sure,” Oscar says, “and how you love to deflect.”

Lando stops chewing to make this glare more effective. “Stop meddling.”

“I’m not meddling, Lando,” Oscar sets the water bottle aside and crosses the kitchen easily, leaning on the island opposite Lando like he knows abandoning the separation completely might send him over the edge. “I love you,” he says then, “and I want you to feel your best. I know you want to get better on track, but it’s not one or the other.” Lando’s about to protest, to say that’s not what I even said, but when he thinks about it for a second, it sort of is. Not this argument, maybe, other than kind of abstractly, but definitely in other arguments with Jon. Maybe even one with Oscar in the past – Lando loses track of who’s said what with how closely their arguments clearly overlap lately. And more than he’s said to either of them out loud, Lando knows that dichotomy is buried at the bitter end to every circle he runs in his own mind in those post-race showers and the long, long nights after. If he stops telling himself that what he’s done isn’t good enough, what if he starts believing it is?

He sets his fork down. His shoulders are still drawn, cheek still caught between his teeth, but he’s stopped adding new tensions to that list.

“What if it is one or the other?” he asks. His microwave beeps behind him. He’d forgotten to shut the door at all.

“What if learning how to be a little nicer to yourself makes you worse on track?” Oscar asks.

It’s not a good-faith question, but Lando doesn’t have the voice to unpack it. It’s close enough, anyway, so he just nods.

“Then you stop.” Oscar says.

Lando looks up. Oscar’s hand is laying in the middle of his countertop, palm up, and his eyes are set on Lando’s face.

“Really?” Lando moves his hand towards the center of the island, fingers splayed on the cool marble.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, “I mean, I can’t control what you do anyway. Obviously. But if something doesn’t work, don’t do it. Clearly nobody can force you, and you’ve got a lot of practice deciding what does and doesn’t help you. It’s like upgrades. Dev can talk them up, but we don’t know until we’re on the sim and in the car. They might be kind of shitty, but you won’t know until you actually drive with them.”

Lando presses his lips together to keep from smiling. Stubborn. Leave it to Oscar to come up with a fucking car metaphor for his broken fucking brain, though. God.

“But,” Oscar continues, “most of the time the upgrades work. Because the team knows what they’re doing. And the test drivers know what they’re doing, too. They see our data and they know our cars and they take our feedback and they know what to do with all that.”

Lando’s getting a little lost in the parallels Oscar’s trying to draw, but Oscar can clearly tell, because he closes the last of the gap until their fingertips brush together and says, “Just like Jon, babe. He knows you really well. He’s good at seeing where there’s a little room for improvements.”

Lando taps his fingers one by one against the counter. Oscar taps back, the pads of his fingers drumming against Lando’s nailbeds.

“Can I think about it?” Lando asks. The first thing he’s said in a long while.

“You can,” Oscar says back. His hand is completely covering Lando’s now, thumb rubbing up and down the side of Lando’s forefinger, “but can you text Jon and tell him you’re thinking about it?”

Lando’s eyes narrow, but Oscar’s already moving around the side of the island and flipping Lando’s phone over so it’s face-up on the counter. “Please?” Oscar says.

Lando concedes. Oscar’s hand rests low on his back while Lando taps into his messages and finds his trainer’s thread. He starts and deletes half a dozen different texts, but Oscar’s eyes feel heavy over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits eventually.

Oscar’s arm slides fully around his waist, and Lando is surprised when his own body melts easily into Oscar’s side. As soon as they’re pressed together, Oscar shifts his grip up until he’s squeezing some tension out of Lando’s shoulder with firm fingers.

“You could just ask him to schedule the appointment,” Oscar says. Lando knows if he had the nerve to look at Oscar’s face, it’d be that self-satisfied grin on his lips.

“This doesn’t feel ethical of you,” Lando says.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” Oscar’s voice is light, amused, “but I can tell you to do it, if that would make this easier.”

Lando elbows him in the side, just gently, and Oscar tightens his grip on the side of Lando’s neck for a moment.

“Okay,” Lando says.

“Okay,” Oscar says back, “just ask him if he’ll set something up for you in the next week. That way if it sucks, you can forget about it before Zandvoort.”

“Okay,” Lando says again.

“Okay,” Oscar says back.

Lando types out the text while Oscar watches, thumb rubbing soothing little circles into the skin of Lando’s shoulder the whole while. When it’s finished and delivered, he tosses his phone back onto the counter and turns fully into Oscar’s arms, buries his face in Oscar’s chest to counteract the overwhelmed tremor he can feel starting in his muscles. It helps. Oscar presses kisses and shhh’s into his hair until Lando feels a little normal again. It smells like sweat and still a little bit like Lando’s body wash from the night before, there against Oscar’s shoulder. They’re going to need another shower. If Lando asks nicely, he wonders if Oscar might wash his hair, since he’s so worried about what goes on with Lando’s head.

Eventually, Oscar tips Lando’s chin up with a hand under his jaw and kisses him for a long, long moment. He nips at Lando’s lip and licks over it after, just the way Lando likes.

“Is this a bribe?” Lando asks when they part.

It makes Oscar smile and earns Lando another short kiss on the mouth. “You’ve already made the call, love. I can’t bribe you to do something you already did.”

“A reward, then.” Lando tries again.

Oscar’s smile goes sticky soft, “You don’t have to earn anything from me.”

“But?” Lando lifts an eyebrow.

“But.” Oscar says, hands on Lando’s waist, “I’m proud of you.”

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Therapy (2) Masterlist

part one

a map to the lost (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan's third therapy appointment, circa late 2014.

a pinch of sugar (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dan comes home to find a treat waiting for him at home

But I'll Be Close Behind (ao3) - fringesandcringes

Summary: Exploring how they work through Dan's depression individually and as a partnership, through therapy sessions, episodes, and posting a YouTube video about it for the whole world to see.

Deceit and Devotion (ao3) - Thatonefunhun

Summary: Phil Lester has it all. A successful career doing what he loves, a “bestie” who's always got his back, and a can-do attitude! He’s living the life! But what goes on beyond the camera? And is everything as it seems…

Dropping Anchor in a Storm (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Phil wakes in the early hours to a thin beam of sunlight breaking through his curtains, and the soft sound of Dan breathing by his side.

He should be able to bask in the peace and stillness of the room, but his brain won't let him do that today.

(TW) Exhausted (ao3) - breatherepeat

Summary: Dan has spent years in therapy unpacking the issues of his past and coming to terms with himself. In order to complete his journey of self-acceptance, he knew he would have to face some difficult aspects of his past. The only way to work through years of repressed memories is to bring them to light and process them.

It Gets Better (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: The air in the waiting room is too hot. Dan is hoping his therapist’s office is cooler— it usually is, she has a fan that she always turns on when he walks in— but he also is sitting with that heavy feeling in his stomach that today is going to be a hard day, and the room being stifling would just be part of his luck.

A fic about self-empathy and good sessions.

it's a church of burnt romances (ao3) - phanetixs

Summary: Dan backs into the car and the driver asks where he’s heading. His head swims with thoughts of Phil, and of guilt and embarrassment at how he’s subconsciously treating his friend. Whose life centres around virtues like chastity. And non-objectification goes both ways. Dan takes a few deep breaths, pressing a palm to his insistent bulge to quell his arousal. As always, it doesn’t work.

Well, he resolves, if he can’t get Phil out of his head, he’s got to get someone else into it. Or onto him, preferably.

Or, a Fleabag AU.

Redemption Arc (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: classic, slightly dramatic and unrealistic rags to riches au

run don't hide (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Dan has a run-in with a girl from school.

somebody's gone (ao3) - dvp_95

Summary: Dan's first therapy session after the incident.

the brain inside my muddled head (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dan sees his therapist

the uncertainties of sexuality (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: “For me, having a label means having to be that thing and maybe sometimes I don’t want to be that thing but how on earth can I explain that to them when all I have to do is talk about a cute boy or something and suddenly I’m a bisexual icon when I’m not...not that.”

Therapy Day (ao3) - kattdan

Summary: Sometimes therapy makes Dan feel worse and he seeks comfort in Phil.

thursday at eleven (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: This isn’t Dan’s Thursday morning, and no matter how much and how long he’s been pushing the idea, these first steps have to be Phil’s own.

Unfiltered (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: "Start with the unfiltered version," his therapist had told him. "Write it all out, as if no one else will ever see it, and then work your way from there."

It's a long process, getting everything together, readying himself to open up about depression, but he can take it in steps.

we were never in the park (ignoring tornado warnings) (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: After Phil leaves Dan, Dan starts seeing a therapist. Then, Phil comes back, and Dan starts lying to his therapist about him.

What A Catch (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Phil visits the same cafe every weekday morning without fail. But, when he decides to visit the cafe on the weekend for once, the atmosphere that he had grown used to has completely changed thanks to a piano player named Dan. While Phil is ready to jump into a relationship, Dan is hesitant and is still trying to stitch his life together again after What Had Happened in his past relationship. And that’s easier said than done.

wherever you stray i follow (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Dan brings Phil with him to therapy.

[irb-pascalito-99]

Date Night

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: My younger sister Ellie and Joel’s daughter Sarah go on a school trip for the weekend, leaving Joel and I alone for the first time since we started seeing each other in secret.

Warnings: SMUT, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, breaking furniture

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter thirteen of my a03 fic Always an Angel, Never a God. For more chapters on this pairing please go to a03.

I turn in the bed and attempt to push Joel to wake him up. He grumbles and pulls me closer to him. I push him again and whisper his name.

“Joel! Get up, it’s almost 8:30. We overslept!” Joel looks up at the alarm clock as well. When it starts to sink in he jumps up and starts shoving his clothes back on.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I forgot to set an alarm.” I wrap myself in a robe and start gathering Joel’s things off the floor.

We’ve been trying to be more careful since the night of Ellie’s nightmare. We’ve started spending less time together so I can start focusing on Ellie more.

Her grades have continued to make an improvement, and we’ve been getting along great. She often comes to draw in the art studio while I paint. We’ve been setting an actual routine.

I still have no idea whether or not she’s having more nightmares. Sometimes at night I wait in the hallway trying to listen to any noises of distress, but I haven’t heard anything. I got her in to see a therapist once a week, hoping that even if she isn’t talking to me about it, maybe she’ll talk to someone. She seemed apprehensive to the idea at first, but she seems to really be opening up to her now.

I text Joel throughout the week, but we keep our visits to weekends only now, something that makes the time we do have together seem more precious and finite. Desperate touches linger as long as possible, while we wait in each other’s beds as long as we can.

He was not supposed to come over on a Thursday night, but after the day he had at work he begged to see me. We surprised Ellie with a Sarah sleepover and waited to sneak Joel back in until after the girls were asleep. He was not supposed to spend the entire night, but at some point gentle caresses turned to sleepy eyes which turned to dreams.

Now, Joel walks as quickly as he can down the stairs without making too much noise. I hurry after him, making glances up to the top of the stairs to ensure one of the girls didn’t come out of Ellie’s room. We make our way toward the front door, but just as his hand reaches for the handle we hear noises in the kitchen.

“Dad?” Sarah asks as she rounds the corner. My heart leaps in my chest while I turn around. Did she see him come down the stairs?

“Hey! Good morning!” Joel says cheerily. He glances at me quickly and then moves to Sarah. “Just came to pick you guys up for school.”

If Sarah finds it strange, she doesn’t say anything. She hugs her dad tight and drags him into the kitchen. He looks at me over his shoulder and motions for me to follow.

Inside the kitchen Ellie and Sarah are making breakfast. There are ingredients all over the counter, which are a disaster, and the smell of eggs wafts through the air.

“We need to make some for dad too!” Sarah says to Ellie who uses a spatula to push the eggs around the pan. Sarah makes her dad sit at the kitchen table and looks at me to do the same.

Joel and I sit awkwardly while we wait for the girls to finish cooking, not wanting to seem suspicious. When the eggs are done Ellie brings plates over for us containing scrambled eggs and toast. Sarah walks over with two big glasses of orange juice. Joel makes a face when she puts his juice down on the table in front of him but forces himself to drink it anyway.

His knee brushes mine as the four of us eat breakfast. The girls didn’t do too bad considering their lack of experience with cooking. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Joel take a piece of eggshell out of his mouth.

“Did you bring my bag?” Sarah asks Joel as we finish eating.

“Bag?” Joel asks with his mouth full. Sarah rolls her eyes and looks at Ellie.

“For the trip…” Joel furrows his brows in confusion for a moment, dropping his fork and muttering to himself when he remembers. “Dad!”

Joel clears the table in a hurry and looks at his watch. He rushes the girls to grab their things so they can go.

“We’ll pick it up on the way,” he says. I hand Ellie her bag as they start to head out the door. Sarah and Ellie while Joel waits in the doorway. “They’ll be gone for a whole weekend…”

He has a mischievous look spread across his face as he stands beside the front door. He closed the door almost fully, so the girls can’t see the two of us. I laugh and shake my head. The girls are headed on a class trip this weekend, leaving both Joel and I child-free for the first time since we started whatever this is.

“I’ll see you soon then,” I chuckle.

“Tonight? I can come over here after work. I’ll stay the whole weekend if you’ll let me” I bite my lip as I grin at the thought of how eager he is to see me again.

I nod and he glances a look at the girls through the crack in the door before quickly pulling me in for a kiss. We’re both smiling like idiots when he leaves.

—

It’s hard to focus the rest of the day. There are several times either Frank or Bill had to say my name until I snapped out of whatever weekend daydream I had followed out of reality. It doesn’t help that Joel kept me up so late last night as well. I try to tell them that I’m just tired, but I can tell neither of them believe me.

I ended up having to stay a little later than I hoped due to a reconstruction project I needed to get finished before the weekend set in, so I quickly shoot Joel a text.

Me: Hey, things are running late at the shop. Looks like I’m going to be another hour, but the key is under the doormat if you want to let yourself in :)

Joel: Sounds good! Also, doormat? We gotta fix that, anybody could find it there and just walk in…

I giggle at his protectiveness and put my phone away again. Nearly two hours later I’m finally pulling into the driveway of my home. Joel’s truck is parked in the garage in case Maria or Tommy drive by. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I walk up to the front door.

I don’t see any lights on when I walk up the front steps, but there’s a faint flicker between the blinds. I open the front door slowly, the smell of freshly cooked food emanating from the kitchen the second I do. The floor between the kitchen and front door is covered in rose petals and the walkway between the two is surrounded by tiny little tea lights.

I feel my face flush as I make my way down the path, pausing for a second to put my keys in the bowl Joel made me. When I get to the kitchen I find Joel at the table, plating something he had just pulled off a pan. He looks at me with the biggest smile on his face and places the empty pan in the sink.

“Hey darlin,” he says as he makes his way over to me and presses his lips to mine.

The table is also set up nicely, with a red tablecloth spread across it that Joel must have either brought from home or bought today. There’s a bouquet of flowers in a vase set in the middle and flower petals sprinkled across the surface as well. There are even petals sprinkled across the kitchen island along with more tea lights to help illuminate the kitchen. Two taper candles sit beside the vase on the table and he’s set two plates of food across from each other with what looks like steak and scallops on top.

“What?” I ask, looking between the table and him. He grabs my hand and kisses the top of it.

“I know we can’t really go on an actual date because we’re keeping this thing secret, but I thought you deserved something special.” He says.

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he watches my reaction. I’m not sure how to respond. I feel the emotions well up in my eyes as I take it all in. This is by far the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, and there’s a part of me that wonders if I deserve it. I’m the one forcing us to keep this a secret. I’m the reason we can’t be a real couple. I push those emotions down and blink a couple of times to keep the tears at bay.

“Thank you,” I say. I kiss him again, slowly. It isn’t like the rushed passionate kisses we normally exchange in a rush to have each other before the time runs out. Something deeper lingers in this one, a shared emotion exchanging between the two of us despite the fact that neither of us are ready to say it out loud. It floats in the open air as we pull away. “Give me one second.”

Joel looks confused when I turn back toward the stairs and rush off. I quickly run up to my bedroom and search for something else to wear, something more deserving of this occasion.

I pick out an olive green satin dress with little flowers embroidered on it from the back of my closet. When I put it on I ditch my bra and pick out a pair of my sexier underwear. I make sure to throw my work clothes in the laundry hamper in my closet and I take my hair out of the braid it’s been in all day as well, letting the waves settle down my shoulders before I head back down the stairs.

Joel watches with wide eyes as I make my slow descent. I have to fight a giggle from escaping my lips when his jaw literally drops as I move into full view of him. His hands immediately find my hips when I’m within reach of him and his eyes roam over my figure once more.

“God damn,” he mutters under his breath. My cheeks warm again.

I pull from his grasp enough to do a little twirl so he can see the whole dress. When I turn around I hear a sharp intake of breath from him before he grabs my hips again to pull my body against his. He immediately buries his face in my neck, kissing up the side of it as he pulls my hips flush with his. I lose myself in it for a second, allowing myself to melt against him as he bites down on my neck and grinds against me.

“Joel,” I say breathily. I remember the dinner on the table in front of us and grab his hand as it attempts to roam down my thigh. “Joel, stop, dinner.”

“Screw dinner,” Joel groans and runs his tongue over the last place he nipped on my neck.

I laugh at his eagerness to suddenly ditch the meal he spent all this effort setting up. It’s tempting to cave, to follow our desires and let him take me right here. Even though we just spent last night together, I still can’t get enough of him. He leans in to kiss my neck again and I twist away.

“Okay now, hands to yourself. I want my date mister.” Joel sighs and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Whatever she wants,” he says. He flashes me a grin again.

He makes his way to one of the chairs and pulls it out for me. He pushes it in after I sit down, then grabs the uncorked bottle of wine from the middle of the table. I watch him pour a glass for me before making his way to his chair. He pours himself a glass too. After he pours his glass he lifts it in the air.

“To our weekend in paradise,” he says, reaching across the table to grab my hand. I squeeze his hand and smile.

“To our weekend in paradise,” I repeat and clink my glass against his. We each take a sip, refusing to let go of each other’s hands until we eventually have to in order to cut the steak.

Despite the fact that this technically is our first date, it feels more like we’ve settled into a domestic routine. We don’t make the typical small talk where you ask about each other’s lives or hobbies. Instead he asks about the shop and my restoration project. He tells me how excited the girls were for their trip. We hold hands whenever we can and I see him stealing glances of me through the corner of my eyes as I tell him a story about Bill’s heated exchange with a customer today.

When he’s done eating Joel patiently waits for me to finish. He stares at me like I’m the only thing worth seeing. I fidget self consciously under his gaze.

“What?” I ask, finishing my food and bringing my wine to my lips to take another sip. Joel grins and shrugs.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he responds. My face warms again as I put my glass down. I keep my eyes on the candle wax that’s begun to drip onto the tablecloth.

Joel rubs circles on the back of my hand for a moment and then gets up. He turns on some music in the background. He takes a couple of the empty dishes from the table, moving them to the sink. I finish my glass of wine and get up to help him clear the table but when he turns to see me with dishes in my hand he almost looks offended.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, taking the dishes out of my hand. He places them in the sink while I look at him confused.

“I’m helping clean up,” I respond, grabbing the two candles from the table and blowing them out. He grabs my wrists once I’ve placed them on the kitchen island and pulls my chest to his.

“Your only job right now is to stand there and look pretty. Let me take care of you.” I roll my eyes at him. The constant argument between us coming up yet again, his insistence that I sit back and let him take care of me. It’s annoyingly predictable at this point.

I sigh and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He smiles, thinking he won the argument. I lean my head against his chest as he wraps his arms around my waist. Neither of us said anything about dancing, but we slowly find ourselves saying to the music. He grabs one of my hands from his neck and twirls me slowly in a circle.

When he pulls me back to him his hands grip my back as he dips me. He leans down and brushes his lips against my clavicle while my hair fans out below me. He presses soft kisses down my chest, stopping just above the hem of my dress. He notices then, my lack of a bra and groans, pulling me back up to stand. Joel takes a step back, his eyes darkened with last.

“Show me,” he says. I slowly move my hands to the straps around my neck. I pull the tie until it loosens, keeping my eyes on Joel’s as I let the dress fall to the floor around me. He licks his lips and lunges forward the second it hits the floor.

One of his hands grips my neck as he kisses me passionately while the other squeezes my butt. He walks me backward until my hips bump into the kitchen table. I let out a moan when his lips leave mine to pull one of my nipples into his mouth instead. His fingers pull me impossibly closer as mine roam across his shoulders.

He lets go of my nipple with a pop and moves on to the other. My hand moves down his chest as he does so, fighting to undo the buttons of his shirt. I finally manage to get his shirt open as he pulls away. Joel’s eyes rake over my figure, consuming me as the candlelight flickers behind him.

“You’re so damn gorgeous baby, like a piece of fuckin’ art,” I giggle and he pushes me back, laying me out on the kitchen table.

It creaks under the pressure of my body laying on top of it. I almost ask him to get me down, but I forget the words as he starts kissing down my breasts and stomach. He stops at the waistband of my underwear. I whimper and tug at his hair in anticipation. He pulls my panties down my legs, his hands running down my skin gently, and shoves them in the pocket of his jeans.

He gets down on his knees in front of me, pulling me to the edge of the table and hanging my legs over his shoulders. I prop myself up on my elbows to watch as he dives into my dripping core. His tongue laps hungrily at my folds. I throw my head back in pleasure, biting my lip as my body begins to shake. He grips my thighs tightly as he sucks on my clit.

“Fuck baby, you like that?” I whimper and nod my head. His lips twist into a smile before he thrusts his tongue inside me, curling it and pulling me closer to him. His nose bumps my clit sending shockwaves through my body.

I’m so close already. I pull at his hair while the coil builds, whimpering and shaking as I get closer and closer to the edge. He takes one of his hands from my thighs and sinks two fingers into my heat, immediately curling them to hit the sensitive spot inside me. I moan and shift on the table which creaks again.

My breaths are coming out in short pants as he continues working me up. He thrusts his fingers harder, lapping at my folds with more fervor as my body teeters on the edge. I look down to see him peering up at me with hungry eyes, watching my every reaction as though in worship. The look in his eyes is what pushes me over the edge.

My hips buck into him and I pull his hair as my orgasm crashes over me. He continues his pace, allowing me to ride out my climax for as long as possible. When the pleasure turns to sensitivity I push his shoulders away. He cleans my folds gently with his tongue in my aftershocks and places gentle kisses up my thighs before raising himself from the floor.

His shirt still hangs across his shoulders, the front completely unbuttoned to expose his bare chest. I move my hands up his chest as he stands between my knees and kisses me softly. My hands linger further down as he deepens the kiss, his tongue moving against mine as I unbuckle his belt. I shove his pants down his thighs and he helps push them down to the floor and off to the side.

He moans into my mouth as my hand brushes against his bulge on the outside of his boxers. I trace the outline of it with my finger and feel him shiver against me. I reach in and pull his cock out, pumping it a couple times in my hand. He pulls away from my lips and rests his forehead against mine as his breathing gets more shallow. He lets me play with it for a second, and then pulls his boxers off as well. His chest heaves as he watches me position his tip at my entrance.

“Fuck sweetheart, just like that.” He groans and then begins to push in. I moan quietly at the stretch of it. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the size. He pulls me further onto his cock with one hand on my hip as the other grips the back of my neck. “That’s it darlin’ let me in. Takin’ it so well.”

I moan again, one hand grasping the back of his neck. The other is tangled in the tablecloth underneath me as he pushes the rest of the way in. I bite my lip to stifle my sounds while he waits for me to adjust. He scans my face with his eyes and moves the hand on my neck to my jaw, brushing my lip with his thumb.

“It’s okay baby, nobody’s here. You can be as loud as you want.” He reminds me.

We’re completely alone, for a whole weekend. No taking care of anyone. No worrying about washing the girls up. No hiding for either of us. I had forgotten what it felt like to be free from that kind of responsibility.

He slowly pulls out and then slams back into me. I let out a high pitched moan as he continues to pound into me, my hand on the table gripping the tablecloth desperately. He sets his pace hard and fast, groaning each time he pushes in.

The table shifts with each thrust, creaking as it does, but I couldn’t care less at this point. Joel leans his face into my chest and kisses my breasts. My hand leaves the tablecloth to grip his shirt instead.

“That’s it baby, let me hear you sweet girl. Let me hear those sounds you make.” Joel says against my skin. I moan louder and pull him closer. He starts to thrust even harder.

I feel my next orgasm building in my core. I clench around him and he moans out as well. He kisses up my neck, leaning his forehead against mine as I get closer.

“Don’t stop. It feels so good. Joel! Please don’t stop.” He grins at me as he keeps his pace.

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart. Fuck! You feel so good.” I slip my hands under his shirt to scratch at his back as I teeter on the edge of my climax.

The only sounds in the room are our shared moans and the increasingly loud creaks of the table as it thumps with each thrust. Joel plus his forehead away from mine to look over my figure, his eyes settling on where our hips join. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer. He groans and thrusts harder. The table groans as well and then crashes to the ground, sending Joel and I to the floor with it.

“Shit,” Joel says when we hit the ground, but he doesn’t stop.

I should be more concerned about my broken kitchen table, but all I can think of right now is how good this feels. I lay down, my hair fanning out across the messy table cloth and flower petals.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” I moan. Joel moves his hand to my folds, his thumb being to circle my clit.

“That’s it baby, let go. Come for me. Come on babygirl.” I moan so loud I’m sure the neighbors can hear as my second climax crashes over me. He pulses inside me as I clench around him, staving off his own orgasm until mine subsides.

As I come down he sloppily thrusts into me a couple more times and then pulls out, ropes of come splattering against my thighs and lower stomach. He groans as he lets go and then collapses on top of me.

We both pant as we come down. My hands start to play with his curls as he rests his weight against me. After several minutes he rolls over slightly so I can breathe better, but keeps his head on my chest. The coarse hairs of his beard tickle as he breathes in and out.

“I made chocolate strawberries for dessert,” he says and I laugh loudly. He chuckles as well, running his hand down my side absentmindedly.

“What about the table?” I ask. Joel looks at the broken piece of furniture beneath us as if just now noticing it and shrugs.

“I can fix it,” he responds. “Was a piece of shit anyway if it broke just from that.”

I giggle and pat his head. He looks at me confused and I run my finger across the line between his brows.

“I can fix it, was a piece of shit anyway,” I say, mocking his tone. He rolls his eyes and presses his cheek against my chest again. “I didn’t know you could build tables.”

“I’m a contractor,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to the side of my breast. I suppose he has a point in that he literally builds houses for a living, but I figured furniture would be different than that. “Plus I do some woodworking as a hobby.”

“You do woodworking?” Joel nods. “Like what? Building furniture and stuff?”

I tilt my head down to look at him as he draws patterns on my skin with his finger. Joel shrugs and I shake my head.

“Sometimes I make little figurines. Started when Sarah was little and it just kinda stuck.” I kiss the top of his head, rubbing my hands down his muscular arms.

“I’d like to see that sometime.” I say.

We stay laying on the kitchen floor for a little while longer until Joel starts to complain about his back aching. He helps me stand up and glances over my body again. I’m still covered in remnants of him.

“Let’s clean you up darlin’,” he takes my hand and leads me upstairs.

[night-spectrum]

Thinking about my spidersona:

Small angst; small suggested smut at the end; mostly fluff and comfort. TW: Mention of death, depression, healthy issues, and isolation.

Wish my computer could work so I could draw my Spidersona...😩

🕸 Spidersona, who was bitten by a funnel web spider (💀) and is still traumatized. She takes appointments with Spider-Therapist every Thursday. Spider-Cat helps her copes with stressful memories.

🕸 Spidersona, who's Caribbean and wears traditional superhero suit. Bright madras tissues wrapped around her head and hips and Creole earrings (hoop earrings).

🕸 Spidersona, who was the only Spider-Girl in Nouveau Fort in Martinique (don't look for it, I made it up, but it's based on Fort-de-France) until a certain Miguel "Fat Ass" O'Hara came to enroll her.

🕸 Spidersona, whose best person is clearly Pavitr because we support cultural representation, and obviously because he's the most adorable boy I've ever seen. ❤️ Besides, they usually chat about new clothes they like to embellish their suit and wardrobe.

They even have Indian nickname for each other : Pavitr is Munna (used for pretty and gentle boy), and Spidersona is Choti (used for girls and means small) based on this.

🕸 Spidersona, who loves dancing with Gwen late at night in her home. Spidersona shows Gwen how to move her butt like there's no tomorrow, and Gwen gives her tips to achieve a boneless split. There're also countless sleepovers and "Girls Talk" about boys, which is pretty much awkward at first, but they both like gossiping.

🕸 Spidersona, who has the fattest crush on Hobart "Hobie" Brown, 'cause let's be honest who wouldn't. Always avoiding him when he comes her way. Obviously, Hobie notices, and he thinks she doesn't like him or his style makes her feel uneasy.

🕸 Spidersona eventually confesses that she likes him :

"That's why you've been dodging me, luv?" Hobie rhetorically asks her, his full lips stretching into a genuine smile.

She feels her face heating up and her hands becoming sweaty. "Yeah, but I don't expect anything y'know. Just wanted to tell you..."

Hobie leans forward, and she presses her lips together, gazing down because she never noticed how interesting the ground could be. She feels his breath on her neck, and she shivers when his lips plant on her cheeks fondly.

"You're too cute, luv."

From that day, he's always close to her. His arm rests on her shoulders, and he's never too far when they're fighting anomalies. They both rely on each other when something goes wrong.

🕸 Spidersona, who curses in Creole when she's pissed.

"WHO STOLE MY SALTFISH ACCRA?! AY KOKÉ MANMAN ZOT! LAN DJET MANMAN ZOT! OU SÉ AN SAKRÉ TI ICH SALO-!"

"Wow! Wow! Okay, okay, we got it. That's enough bad words for today, luv." Hobie covers her lips and drags her out to cool down a bit.

Peter B. covers Mayday's ears, though he doesn't understand a thing he knows what she's saying isn't lovely.

🕸 Spidersona, who has arachnophobia, watches Penni petting her spider with disgust (don't get me wrong, her spider is adorable, but I don't want it near me). Miles makes fun of her and eventually chases her with random spider he finds around through the lobby.

🕸 Spidersona, who slips in Hobie's universe to spend some time together. She watches him play guitar on his bed and turns red when he hands her his instrument and sits behind her, his fingers brushing hers as he teaches her how to play.

🕸 Spidersona, who brings Martinican food to Mrs. Morales when she comes to visit Miles. Rio observes her chat with her son from afar along with Jefferson.

"She looks nice," Rio says after a while, still looking at them, "and she calls me 'Mrs. Morales." Her lips turning upward.

"Yeah, definitely Caribbean. Besides, I love these." Jefferson says, grabbing a slice of butter bread she made with her mom, accompanied by communion chocolate.

Spidersona and Miles look at their feet awkwardly, feeling Miles' parents' gaze on them.

"'M sorry 'bout my parents, they're... protective."

"Yeah, don't mention it. My mom does this, too."

🕸 Spidersona, who invites everyone one in her universe in Nouveau Fort. The tropical climate welcomes them fiercely, and everyone change to wear swimsuit. Peter B. applies sunscreen on Mayday and himself and lays down on a towel.

🕸 Hobie and Pavitr bury Miles in the sand, mermaid body in process as Spidersona and Gwen take Mayday to a swimming lesson, her Spider-Man rubber ring assisting her.

"Damn Gwen, you're red as hell." Spidersona hands her Peter's sunscreen, snorting.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

...

🕸 After 3 weeks and still no news from her, Hobie and Pavitr head to her universe. When they slip into her bedroom through the window, they find her in her bed, barely breathing. Pavitr rushes to her, worry in his eyes as he brushes her now sunken cheeks. She hardly opens her eyes, dried tears staining her face.

🕸 Hobie takes her face in his hand, caressing her cheekbones slowly before kneeling to be face level with her. He takes her blanket off her, and it pains them to see how much weight she lost. They can clearly see her ribcage under her skin.

As they discuss what to do, they hear her mother's voice in the living room. She sounds exhausted, her voice quavering.

"I don't know what to do, mom. She hasn't eat anything in days and she keeps losing weight. The doctor said we should bring her to the hospital because of her iron deficiency and underweight. Otherwise, her anemia might come back and-" her voice cracks, as she can't handle her overwhelming emotions. The phone slips from her grasp as she falls on her knees.

🕸 Hobie grabs her without hesitation and opens a portal, quickly followed by Pavitr. He mumbles apologies when she groans pain. When they arrive, Hobie pushes open the medical department's door with his foot. Spider Meds are quick to take care of her, using advanced medical tech.

🕸 Spidersona, who wakes up after 2 weeks, looking less of a momified monk. She sees a red-haired baby lying down on her belly. She recognizes Mayday, and Peter B. reaches out, his hand caressing her head.

"We missed you." He says genuinely, worry fading away and replaced by a look parents would give to their child after they injured themselves.

🕸 Spidersona, who just cries. Her pain and grief pouring out of her chest and she can't help it. Peter B. hugs her tightly, kissing her forehead.

🕸 Miles appears and stands still when he views the scene, his brain analyzing everything. He comes close, taking her hand in his, squeezing it kindly. When Peter lets go of you, Miles replaces him.

🕸 Spidersona, who after she calmed down, thanks them and asks where the others are, only to find out that they are on a mission.

🕸 Spidersona, who is surprised to see Spider-Man Noir paying her a visit, flower is his hands.

"Everyone's been worried about you." Miles explains, her hands still in his. "When Hobie and Pav came back with you almost dead, we freaked out."

"Jessica even talk to your mother so she wouldn't pass out when she found out you disappeared." Adds Spider-Man Noir.

She is grateful but also a bit ashamed she worried everyone.

"So... what happened?" Peter B. asks cautiously.

She looks up to him and tries to suppress the tears, creating in the corner of her eyes.

🕸 Spidersona, who wasn't fast enough to save her uncle Henry and faced the reality of the world.

Though everybody can relate, Miles feels like he knows exactly what she feels. He remembers when he found out that Uncle Aaron was the Prowler, the look in his eyes when he discovered Miles was Spider-Man. His hand slipping from his as he exhaled his last breath.

🕸 Spidersona, who spends her day with Miles since Peter went home to put Mayday in bed. She eats empanadas Miles brought for her.

"My mom made them for you. When I told her you were hospitalized, she wouldn't stop asking about you. Besides, since we didn't know when you would wake up, she made some every day." Miles scratches the back of his head; cheeks and ears red. He knew his mom liked you, maybe too much for his liking.

"Well, please, thanks her for me. This is delicious. My taste buds are dancing hard right now." She giggles, making Miles smile.

🕸 Spidersona, who eventually encounters Jessica and Miguel. She thanks the pregnant woman, hugging her slightly, knowing she's not a big fan. To her surprise, she rubs her back and smiles.

🕸 Spidersona, who turns to Miguel reluctantly and apologizes for being off without warning. He brushes her off, as usual, talking about how it was her canon event. Gee thanks.

🕸 Spidersona, who hears familiar voices. She turns around, and there they are : Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr. She launches herself on them, arms fully extended. Pav sees her first and rushes toward her. They both collide, their hands grasping any pieces of clothes, hugging like the world would disappear.

"I missed you so much, Choti." Pav cries, his hands hold her tightly. "You almost gave a heart attack. Don't do this ever again, please. I love you."

And she cries again, hearing her best friend voice trembling.

"I'm so sorry, Munna. I promise. I love you so much, too."

Gwen joins in, her lips quivering, and they open their arms for her to come.

🕸 Spidersona, who wipes her face after a while, then proceeds to notice Hobie, who stayed back. Pav hugs her one last time, then leaves with Gwen. She approaches Hobie, not sure why she feels so nervous all of a sudden.

🕸 Spidersona, who follows Hobie to his universe, their pinky intertwined. When they are both alone in his room, he smashes his lips against hers.

🕸 Spidersona, who feels like a tsunami washed over her: emotions and feelings blending in her core. It's slow at first but quickly bursts into a wildfire when she feels his body against her. It feels strange, and she's a bit insecure, but Hobie reassures her. It's overwhelming.

"Are you okay, luv?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, like she'll shatter if he's too loud.

"Yeah. I am."

🕸 Spidersona, who slowly moves on, enjoys her life with those who remain and never forgets those who left.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

170 of 2024

What would you do if right now the love of your life walked in and asked you to marry him/her?

It already happened a few years ago.

Do you trust your friends?

Yeah. Otherwise I wouldn't even bother to call them friends.

Would you move to another state or country to be with the one you love?

I kinda did it already, too.

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

Yes, but also our own actions bring consequences.

Name two things you would NOT tolerate in a relationship?

Mistreatment and abuse.

Which one of your friends do you think would make the best doctor?

Nielsje would be the best psychologist/therapist for sure, but I'm not sure about who would be the best doctor.

Are you afraid of falling in love?

No, but I'm not prone to it.

Is there someone who pops into your mind at random times?

Yeah, a lot of people. Mostly this little train dude. I still think about him.

Would you stop talking to your friends because you hooked up with a new person?

No. Friends are friends.

When was the last time you flew in a plane?

Never.

What did the last text message you sent say?

I don't remember, probably something about my cat.

What features do you find most attractive in your preferred sex?

Eyes and voices.

Fill in the blank. I like _ .

When everything goes just right.

What is a goal you would like to accomplish in the near future?

Read more books. I love reading, but I haven't had much time in 2024.

If you were to wake up from being in a coma for an extensive time who would you call?

Well, I was in coma before and when I woke up, calling people or even using my phone was one of the last things In was thinking about. Plus, the longer you are in coma, the less chance you have to come back to full mobility and such.

How many kids do you want to have?

None. One adult stepson is pretty much enough.

Would you make a good parent?

I know I would make a good uncle, but a father? I don't think so, somehow.

Where was/were your ID picture(s) taken?

Probably in the studio.

What is your middle name?

Stijn.

Honestly, what's on your mind right now?

The song I'm listening to right now. This one, specifically.

Shoe size?

42 in EU.

What are you wearing right now?

Red hoodie and cargo pants, nothing unusual.

Righty or Lefty?

Well, I used to be left-handed, but since my left hand lost some function, I had no other choice lol.

Can you make a dollar in change right now?

Not really. Not to mention that the currency where I live is euros.

Best place to eat?

Chinese Wok in Bruges.

Favorite pair of jeans you own?

All my cargos, no question.

Favorite animal?

Cat, cheetah, elephant, rabbit, some birds. I love cheetahs because they meow and purr, just like their domestic cousins.

Favorite juice?

100% apple and orange, but without pulp.

Have you had the chicken pox?

Yeah, when I was six or something.

Have you had a sore throat?

Too many times. I have chronic tonsillitis.

Who knows you the best?

I think my husband and a couple of friends.

Do you get along with your family?

Most of them, yes. Best with my dad and sister.

Do you wear contact lenses or glasses?

Glasses. I'm really nearsighted and I can't wear lenses because my eyes are always irritated and dry.

Ever been in a fight with your pet?

...wut. How can you fight with your pet at all.

Been to Mexico?

Never in my life, but I'd love to.

Did you buy something today?

No, but I have three packages to pick up.

Did you get sick today?

No, I didn't.

Did you miss someone today?

My parents. We just came back from their place last Sunday.

Did you get in a fight with someone today?

No, I didn't.

When is the last time you had a massage?

Thursday before I left to my parents, from my physiotherapist.

Last person to lay in your bed?

My husband, but surprise, we actually share a bed.

Last person to see you cry?

Probably my cat. Yes, she counts as a person.

Who made you cry?

People don't make me cry. It must have been a situation.

What was the last TV show you watched?

Some Polish sitcom, old episodes.

What are your plans for the weekend?

Football tournament at Sunday.

Who do you think will repost this?

Anyone and everyone is welcome to do it. I love reading other people's answers.

Name of the person you got this from.

I found it probably on DeviantArt lol.

Are you happy?

95% of time, I am.

[deathfavor]

@ofcrossroads said: ❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜ (Chifuyu to Kazutora)

random assortment of sentence starters

Kazutora gives a low hum in acknowledgement, sparing a brief glance towards the disinfectant and bandages sitting on the counter before looking towards Chifuyu. " Don't worry, I won't move. " He promises. " Thanks for doing this for me. Kinda hard to deal with injuries around my backside by myself. "

Does the battered, scraped wounds hurt? Sure. But tonight is the calmest that Kazutora has felt in ages. It shows in his whole posture, from the relaxed shoulders to the slow, cat-like blinking of golden eyes, to more noise than words. The itch under his skin has been soothed, no longer driving him to wanting to claw out of his own skin like a prison cell. All that's left is something calm and nearly docile. ( Not quite, because docile never quite fits the tiger, but certainly relaxed. ) He lets silence hang in the air before he begins to speak.

" I tried that Muay Thai class being advertised around lately. My therapist said it might be good for me. " Kazutora doesn't often talk much about therapy or what happens there. Sometimes he says if it was good or bad but rarely brings up specifics. Other times its obvious from his mannerism alone, especially the rough sessions. But crammed into the small bathroom with Chifuyu trying to help patch a wound from a fall, he decides to. " Honestly, he was pushing it for a while for me to do something in the martial arts or something like that. He thought it'd be good for me and a healthy outlet. I was just scared to try. " Chifuyu was right, it did sting a bit. He's had far worse though and doesn't bat an eyelash at it. " Just. Given my history and all. " He shrugs and immediately stops when he remembers the order to hold still. His voice however perks up when he continues. " But it was actually really nice! And fun too. "

His gold eyes watch Chifuyu in the mirror, trying to gauge the other's reaction to his words. Like he's searching for approval or disapproval. He's not sure how well Chifuyu will take it. " Given my background and all, I was ahead of a lot of people other than the actual combinations. So I gotta do a lot of that. But the instructors were real chill and so were the people. It felt good. Lots of safety measures in place though things can still happen obviously. " If anything he seems rather proud of it though. " I was thinking I'd stick with it, at least for a while and see how it goes. It's Tuesdays and Thursdays so I'll probably go right after we close, or a few minutes early if that's okay? " He could do a lot of the closing tasks a bit earlier so Chifuyu didn't have to do any at the end.

" And there's a competition in a little over a month that I might enter if I do stick with it. They said I'd probably do really good. You should come. " Kazutora tears his eyes away from the mirror to turn his head to look at Chifuyu in the dim lighting. " I mean, if you're not busy when it's occurring. Or if it interests you. If it doesn't or it's too close to old memories I totally get that though." He rushes out in a quick attempt to offer Chifuyu ways out of the invitation so he doesn't feel he HAS to go just because Kazutora invited him. " Don't wanna bore you on a day off, you deserve that rest " He laughs sheepishly and glances towards the sink. " I just...thought it might be nice? "

[j-exclamationmark-l]

Finally in America.

My mom is dying, hardly wakes up due to morphine.

My partner is in Japan. It's been a nightmare trying to bring him over here. I am so worried about being around my dad. I don't have money for a hotel room and am staying with him. He put me through so much emotional abuse when I was younger. I am still taking medicine to deal with the trauma. I tried five years of therapy but all my therapists could say was, "Why on earth did your dad do that?" And no one could help me because they couldn't get over how bizarre he is. I've even been asked what I did to deserve it. I need my partner here with me for support...

My brother called me Tuesday morning last week (October 8) to tell me my mom's condition deteriorated. He said wait before I make a move, he wanted to confirm with the doctors before I flew over and put my job in jeopardy.

Wednesday, October 9, my brother said please come. My partner and I both tried the US embassy's website, on his computer, on my computer, on my ipad and phone, on his phone, but the website kept kicking us out every time we tried to fill out a field.

Thursday, October 10, he finally was able to access the website and they told him to wait 24 hours while they put his information in the system before he could even have the option of trying to apply for a visa.

Friday, October 11, he was finally able to ask for an interview. They made him confirm several times that he has to pay $300 to even schedule an interview and that this money is non refundable. After he confirmed he understood, we found out the earliest available slot was January 2025. My mom doesn't have that long. We called and pleaded with the embassy and they said we could mark it an emergency and that they'd get back to us within three business days. That meant they would not touch his paperwork over the weekend.

I decided to fly out without him and wait for him here. My work said they'll have to let me go because real people devoted to the company shouldn't care about their mothers dying.

Monday, October 14, was a holiday and no one was willing to deal with my partner.

Tuesday, October 15, he was told he was approved to have an interview the next day, October 16. Then they actually told him to stop calling because if he annoyed them, they'd put his paperwork back further out of spite.

Wednesday, October 16 (time difference and all), he finally had his interview. He brought all the medical documents talking about my mom's condition. He said the interviewer listened to him and then denied his visa because she said, and I'm paraphrasing what he told me, she thought there was a possibility I'd want to stay here, and he wouldn't want to leave me and he'd become an illegal alien. She also encouraged him to apply again, even today, and said "There's a chance you'll get interviewed by someone other than me and they'll feel more sympathetic toward you and give you a visa." I'm so mad that they're basically admitting the ruling was arbitrary and they're telling him go back and spend $300 to try again, don't give up.

I'm so angry and upset and don't know what to do. I feel so alone and isolated during a time I need someone with me more than ever. I mentioned the other day to my dad I was expecting my partner to fly in any day now. My dad scoffed and said there was no way they'd let my partner in. I'm furious thinking he's right.

I don't know what to do. I sent an email to the embassy pleading my partner's case from my end and mentioning things like why I need my partner here to support me and how my dad has been blaming my brother and me for being such bad children that our mother made the conscious decision to get sick because she hates us. He's making our distress worse and having someone supportive like my partner around would make things easier. My partner also wants to meet her before she passes. I don't have ties here besides my mom and brother and want to go back to Japan as soon as possible.

I don't know what else to do. I don't even know if they'll read it, or if I was too emotional. If anyone has any advice...

I feel so lost and alone.

[never-not-ever]

First Week Outpatient

August 1st-7th

So I discharged around 1pm on that Thursday. For weeks prior I had been taking useless junk home so that on my day of discharge I wouldn’t be walking the hall with ten thousand bags drawing attention to me. I just wanted to leave quietly and not make a big deal about it.

I had to stop at my PACT teams office for my meds. I have a therapist, psychiatrist, case manager and a nurse on my team there. My nurse packs my meds for me in a weekly pill organizer. I’ve always told my IP doctor to not discharge me with a months supply of meds and it just so happened to work out that with PACT they offer the weekly medication pickup. So I went straight there and then headed home because I had a virtual appointment with my therapist at 4.

After that me and my Nana drove my nephew back home in NH cause he had been staying at my Nana’s. On the way back home I stopped to get groceries and was panicking so much in the store. I still remember what stoplight we were at when it became 8:00. Staring at the time I kept thinking I should be back at McLean, this is the latest time you have to return from a pass. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be outside right now. It’s too dark. That day felt like a pass. I remember freaking out in my kitchen that night, hyperventilating and trying to calm myself down saying “you’re going to be back on the campus tomorrow, less than 24 hours, it’s going to be okay, it's going to be okay”.

Anyways, Jesus, if I write so much nonsense these updates are going to be essays. Stick to the important stuff!! Okay so I started PHP the next day on Friday. I’ll add these in the tags but I’ll post a warning here too. There’s going to be talk of drinking and self harm and restricting. So partial was Friday and then Saturday night I got drunk and self harmed for the first time in over 6 weeks. I bought a 6 pack of White Claw and the whole 6 was just the right amount to get blissfully drunk and escape for a bit. Alcohol affects me differently after having weight loss surgery so I honestly don't know if 6 is the standard or way too much?

Monday I told my program psychiatrist and she wanted to look at my arm but I didn’t have extra bandaids so she told me to bring some the next day. I also met with my program therapist and we talked about starting a diary card and what to track. I told her how since I’ve been home I’m not hungry/eating and I’m not complaining. Saturday when I got drunk all I had that day was applesauce around lunchtime. So I mentioned the word “restricting” and tried to give the short version of my fucked up body image, losing (necessary) weight, losing it in a healthy way and also unhealthy ways at times, that I’ve never been diagnosed with an eating disorder but I know I have a fucked up relationship with food and my body….

So later that evening I got a phone call from disability. I should have applied back in September but instead I didn’t apply until April. They said it could take 6 months before I get a decision on my application. For months I kept checking online to see how much of my application had been looked at it. I needed money and felt like such a financial burden on my Nana. I had just borrowed money from her to pay my phone bill and an hour later disability called asking more questions that I’ve already answered in the past. She said she was the final person to review my application and that she’d be making a decision soon. If my application gets approved then I could be seeing a check within the next 4 weeks...

The following morning I checked my bank account and saw an ungodly amount of money, like two months worth of paychecks from my old job. I could actually pay my Nana back for all the money she’s given me while inpatient and afford to buy stuff to redo my apartment. And after seeing this money in my account I cried, not tears of joy but because I realized that even with this financial issue being lifted it still didn’t change how badly I wanted to end my life. Obviously money doesn’t buy happiness but like that money lifted a huge weight off my chest and it still didn’t matter. My passive SI, self harm urges and depression was shit when I discharged and it was just slowly getting worse.

So back to the timeline. So that "money thing" happened Tuesday morning. I brought bandaids to PHP and mind you I didn’t know what my arm looked like. I didn’t know if it was bad, I just slapped bandaids on it Saturday night and never looked at it again until that day when my doctor looked at it. It was so triggering seeing it. I'm going to get real descriptive here but I've never been able to cut over scars before. Maybe it's what I use but still I've basically run out of room on my go to arm. But drunk I was able to do it and deep. Two cuts, and obviously too much time had passed for me to get stitches but she still wanted me to go to Urgent Care after the program just to make sure it wasn’t infected. I felt like I was wasting their time. Going 3 days later just to get it re-bandaged… the nurse was so nice but the doctor seemed irritated. I think I spent almost 2 hours there, so pointless. They gave me a prescription for an ointment for my arm and they put in my chart that it “could have used stitches”. I never picked up the ointment.

Wednesday when I met with my psychiatrist she brought that up and said that if it happened again she wanted me to get seen right away.

11:19am Wed “I feel strange today. Maybe strange is the wrong word, disconnected? Empty, low, low energy. I can stare at the floor and get lost in my head.”

I started “seeing” my new therapist in the beginning of July but it was always virtual until that day. At 4 I had my first in person appointment and after the day being weird and shitty I was looking forward to it. But it was horrible.

So on the way home I went shopping. Dropped a couple hundred at Aerie and American Eagle and this was the start to my spending sprees. I FaceTimed with that friend I texted and it was a nice ending to the crappy day.

[valentijnsstuff]

This has been such a volatile week, this is mostly for myself to recount events but holy shit

Me almost making an attempt last sunday evening and then finding out there actually IS accessible help for my suicide issues after scrambling to find any for weeks

being able to sit and eat pizza on a busy terrace with a friend on monday

starting the tuesday with the most insanely tense session with two therapists where I could barely speak but HAD to tell them that they were just not helping, hanging out at a besties house to calm down, reaching out to my ex out of desperation, going to sleep in the haunted house

waking up wednesday feeling like shit and to a check in from my dad, who doesn't know what to say to my worsening depression, feeling sick and spiraling the rest of the day from medication side effects, to the point of not being able to eat and sleep and having to call a medical professional for a panic attack

Calling the docters office thursday morning because I felt so sick I wasn't sure I could drive myself to the doctors, being completely out and in an intense panic in front of a doctor that I don't quite trust, but miraculously being able to get a prescription for sleep medication, having my mental coach look at me with a very focused concerned face for a whole hour as I try to explain how bad the situation has gotten inbetween sobbing, her being actually helpful in telling me how to carry my pain, having a long conversation with a 113 professional when I come home, crying uncontrolably in a way I thought only children could, meeting up with my ex to ask him for help, having to sit and listen to him boast how good he is doing now he is finally making his own life choices, getting told by him 'count your blessings', having to sleep over at the besties house to calm down again after dragging myself through all that, gathering enough courage to cancel a date that I clearly couldn't go on in this state

Rushing home friday to have my sister come eat brunch, calling my ex to tell him that some of the things he said didn't sit right with me, bring my sister to her therapy meeting, get called by my ex that he wants an apology for hurting him before he considers helping me, being forced to have the conversation in what ways I was actually hurt by him in the middle of a busy street, having my intake for a suicidal prevention counseling right after, having a good time chilling out with my sister and going swimming with her and her bestie, not being able to focus on the swimming because of all the anger and hurt caused by my ex's treatment flooding back, being on the phone with him for an infuriating half hour, being told 'this is the last time we're talking', I could barely start to tell him what he did to make me as broken as I am, crying in the hallway of the swimmingpool, calling my friends to tell them I made the mistake of trying to trust my ex

Being in company of a bestie on saturday all day, driving 5 cities over to keep an eye on the expo there and being exhausted the whole time, slipping away to have a scream crying session in my car because of how much hurt my inner child still feels from the shit my ex pulled on me, finally being able to aknowledge how conditional his love was, having to stop by the haunted house with my bestie on the way back bc I left a roof window open, having to manage the water damage bc of said window, eating kfc in the parking lot absolutely knackered together, panic planning how to convert my car into a mini camper bc of how anxious I felt at going back to my house alone

Being able to go on a shopping tour to big stores with another bestie today, but having a meltdown at the busy restaurant, spiraling about how I will never be able to live in my home by myself because the weird cptsd that is connected to the place, my bestie inviting me over for sleepover to calm me down and help me trough another night

As I'm writing this I'm noticing so many patterns, I constantly need to be affirmed that there will be a way out of being alone, my medication is definitely starting to work and I can finally handle more situations, but the sleeping in my own home by myself is too triggering, I would rather sleep in my car in this point than be home by myself

[bluejaysandblackbats]

into the silent land

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Willis Todd is arrested before he can cheat Two-Face and be murdered in this AU. He regains custody of his twelve-year-old son, Jason, and they rebuild their relationship. Can Willis make up for his mistakes, or is he doomed to repeat history?

(The title comes from a line in the poem, Remember, by Christina Rossetti).

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Willis Todd, Original Character(s), Faye “Ma” Gunn

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergent AU, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Willis Todd, Willis Todd Redemption, Mentioned Sheila Haywood

Chapter Eight: In Life

Melissa parked in front of the office an hour before school let out with bag lunches. “Have you eaten today, Billy?” Melissa asked. 

“Jason wouldn’t let me get away with skipping breakfast today,” Willis answered. Melissa opened his bag and peeled an orange for him. Willis looked out the window at the campus. 

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Melissa questioned. 

His lip quivered. “I feel so guilty, Lissy. I’m not—.”

“You were a scared kid. What Mark did—... It wasn’t for you. It wasn’t because of you. Mark did that because he’s an evil human being. You didn’t have a choice—.” 

“I got on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor… And Ma—. She—. She kicked me. She told me to clean up my mess. I’ve never seen that much blood before in my life. All I could think was, ‘I can’t think over all that crying,’ and it was me. I was crying,” Willis sharply inhaled, “I know I was young and stupid, but I would’ve—. God, Melissa.” Willis pressed his palms against his eyelids.

She took his hand and gave him the orange she peeled. “Billy—.” 

“I almost blocked it out, but Sheila—. Jason’s mother. Sheila killed that girl… Botched an operation, and I—. I think I scared her away. I made her think she had to leave, but I couldn’t look at her anymore. Then, I remarried and—. The damage was done. I was relieved when Sheila said she couldn’t fight me for custody, and I—. Catherine was great with Jason, but I started drinking and—.” 

“You were reeling… Did you tell your therapist about—?”

Willis shook his head. “No one knows, but you, me, Ma, and Mark. I can’t believe I told you. I shouldn’t have roped you into my shit, Lissy,” Willis answered.

Melissa nudged him. “Eat your orange, Billy,” Melissa whispered, “I’m glad you talked to me. You were scared, and you trusted me. That’s what family does. And you did a lot for me, too. I mean, I could’ve done without you singing Nightshift by The Commodores while I was in labor—.” Willis laughed as he ate his orange. 

“You thought it was hilarious,” Willis replied. Melissa always knew how to distract him from the worst of his memories. Melissa chuckled, shaking her head as she peeled her own orange. 

“Danny set money aside for you after he died… Why didn’t you ever—?”

“I didn’t think I deserved it. Danny was good people. I couldn’t take money from your husband. It’d be weird,” Willis replied. Melissa tutted. 

“Take a little of it and buy a TV and maybe a computer and printer, so Jason can do his homework at home,” Melissa replied, “It’s not much, but it’s enough for you to have something for a rainy day.” 

“I don’t wanna—.” 

“It’s yours. No one’s gonna use it if you don’t,” Melissa replied, “Danny adored you. He loved you like you were his brother.” 

Willis smiled. “Hey, Lissy… Before I forget to ask… Can Jason sleep at your place for a few days? He’s got all this school stuff, and I can’t keep scaring him awake like this. Just until Thursday. I need some time to get my head right,” Willis replied. 

“Okay… But—. Willis, why won’t you come inside?” Melissa asked. 

Willis looked out the window while he sipped his juice box. “I can’t—. I can’t do that. It brings back too many memories,” Willis replied. 

“Are you scared?” Melissa asked. “Maybe you should talk to your PO. You were fifteen. You didn’t—.”

“Melissa, if I say anything Ma will kill Jason. You don’t think I tried to talk to the police before? I tried once when Jason was six months old… I wanted to say something, but I—. Jason was in a daycare, and his—. I went to pick him up, and he wasn’t there. I lost my mind trying to find him, and she—. She came out of my apartment holding my son—. She’ll kill him. She’ll kill Jason,” Willis whispered. 

Melissa nodded, turning to rub his back. “That’s a lot for one person to carry, though,” Melissa whispered. “You don’t feel like—.” 

“No. I’m trying to stay off the bottle… Jason needs to know I’m serious about taking care of him. He comes first. I just—. I made another appointment with my therapist… I um—. I told my therapist that I wanted to work through some stuff with Jason. I was rough on him when he was—. I was abusive… And Jason forgave me for it all, but it’s left a mark on how—. I want to fix it. I want to—.” 

“Have you talked to him about it?” Melissa asked.

“I told him it’d be a good idea for him to give therapy a chance. I’m gonna talk to him again. I hope I can convince him,” Willis whispered. Melissa nodded. “Lissy? Do you have pictures of the other kids?”

“Gabriel, Gavin, Olivia, and Sarah when they were little,” Melissa whispered as she showed Willis a picture of the four kids in the pool. “Gavin is the one with his chin in his hands, Gabriel is the one making claws at the camera. Olivia is the one with the snorkel on, and Sarah is the one with the sunglasses on. Oh, and here’s one of Gav last year with Daddy—.” Her phone rang. “Sorry, Billy… This is Gabe… Hi, honey!” She put the phone on speaker.

“Mom, before I ask you a question… Am I on speaker? And is Dilly in the car?” Gabriel questioned. 

“You are on speaker, and your uncle Billy is here,” Melissa replied. 

“Hi,” Willis added. 

“Oh, Mom was serious… Well, I guess we might as well say it. We’re all family here. I think I’m constipated. So, what’s the name of that laxative you used to give us?” Gabriel asked. Melissa shut her eyes, desperately trying to stave off a laugh. 

“You’re the one in culinary, right?” Willis asked. Gabriel made an affirmative noise. “Cut up an aloe plant and some kiwi, and blend it up in some water. I used to do it for my kid when he was little. If that doesn’t work, get those chocolate laxatives at the corner store.” 

“Okay, I’m at the store right now, so I’ll get the aloe and stuff across the street,” Gabriel replied, “Thanks, Uncle Billy.” 

“No problem,” Willis smiled. 

“Gabe, what’s Gav doing today?” Melissa asked. 

“Gav’s doing some super secret photoshoot. He won’t tell me what it’s for. So, I’m assuming it’s a big deal. He’s been gone all day… Oh, and I read Amber’s thing the other day. I called her yesterday, but she hasn’t gotten back to me—. Sorry, it’s Sarah. I’ll call you later, Mom. Nice to meet you, Uncle Billy. Love you both,” Gabriel replied. 

“Bye, honey. Talk to you later. Love you,” Melissa smiled.

“Love you, Gabriel,” Willis returned the gesture. 

Melissa hung up and looked at Willis. “Did you know Daddy named you after me? Melissa and Willis. Lissy and Willis. He knew we’d be close. I love you so much, and I just want everything to be okay. You deserve happiness. You deserve your beautiful little boy and everything wonderful that comes your way. I say that as your sister and your friend,” Melissa replied. 

Willis stared at the gate, his mind a million miles away from their current conversation. “We were going to have a girl… We decided on Veronica. Veronica Louise Todd. We called her Baby Very… She’d be a little older than Amber,” Willis mumbled. 

“Billy… You didn’t tell me that,” Melissa whispered. 

“I couldn’t remember… I was so messed up with guilt and grief—. I didn’t think of it until now. Jason would’ve—. Would I have had Jason?” Willis asked. 

“Don’t think about that. Those sorts of what-ifs are dangerous. You have Jason because you’re meant to have him. If Danny hadn’t passed, I never would’ve had my other five children. If Amber never transitioned I wouldn’t know what it was like to love someone who defied every expectation I had for them. If I never answered the door for you, I wouldn’t have ever—. I wouldn’t have made it through postpartum depression,” Melissa replied, “What-ifs are no good. In life, there’s always loss.”

[sarahjswift]

Chapter 2 of my New Fanfic!

STILL working on a title...hopefully a song lyric from Taylor though! If you have any ideas, tell me in the comments!

I have about 4 chapter already written, so you should get them maybe every other day before uploads become farther apart :) as always, huge thanks to my Tumblr bestie @backtobl4ck

Warnings: Language, Light Smut 👀, Slight Mention of Self-Harm Word Count: 1.2k

This room was a piece of shit.

Aelin dumped her bag onto the floor and glanced around the room. It was so tiny that only a small hospital single bed fit in it. The floor had the same ugly carpet as that other room, and a tiny - barred - window sat above the bed frame. A tiny cactus rested on the windowsill in a desperate attempt to bring cheer to the room. 

She collapsed on the bed, exhaustion clouding her vision. It had been a busy week, and she tried to recount it. Monday, the intervention. Aedion had been there, and that was it. That was everyone who cared about her, one fucking person, who happened to be her family member. Then Tuesday, Aedion sleeping over to “check on her” and researching help for her. Wednesday telling her about this place and packing. And now Thursday, here. 

Aelin stared up at the ugly popcorn ceiling, thinking of her new home - the “Whitethorn Rehab Center”. It was a nice enough place, and its patrons seemed like good people. But they had all mixed together and Aelin didn’t remember any of them. Well, that wasn’t true. Her new therapist - she remembered him. 

She hoped none of her surprise had shown on her face when she first saw him. He was easily the most handsome man she had ever seen, with soft brown skin and beautiful silver hair. Aelin thought of his jaw dropping eyes. They were green and seemed to be probing her entire being.

Once, she would have found him tempting. Once, she would have blushed to be in his presence. Once, she would have gotten his number and slowly seduced him until they were dating and obsessed with each other. 

But all the desire and love had drained out of her 12 months and 4.5 days ago. 

____

Aelin did nothing but nap until one of the nurses took her to eat dinner in a large cafeteria. Although the room was crowded with people, it was mostly silent except for some murmuring. 

“You are going to sit with your therapy group,” the nurse said. She looked like a sweet woman, with dark brown skin and black curls. Her eyes were blue and soft, understanding. Her name tag read Eillia. “Go grab some food, hon. I’ll just be over in the corner.” She walked away to where a group of other nurses were standing. 

Aelin watched her go before turning and sitting down at the table she had been shown. She wasn’t hungry - in fact, the smell of the food in the cafeteria made her nauseous. She hadn’t had an appetite in twelve months. 

A woman she recognized from therapy - Lysandra - sized her up, her emerald-colored eyes darting up and down Aelin’s body. “Can I help you?” Aelin snapped, annoyed with the woman’s obvious distaste. 

“I don’t know, can you?” Lysandra purred, her voice lilting and seductive. Aelin raised an eyebrow and snorted, shaking her head. “Okay then. Don’t pick fights you can’t win.”

A dart of fury went through Aelin, and she opened her mouth to protest before a man with carrot-colored hair cut in. “Ladies, let’s just eat. No need to make enemies on your first day!” He chuckled nervously, taking a bite of his macaroni and cheese. 

“So Lucas, how long have you been here?” another woman asked him. She was soft-spoken, pretty and demure. Elide. 

Aelin tuned them all out as they all began chatting. She didn’t have the time for mindless small talk. She wanted to scream, she wanted to flip the table over and shatter the windows. How could these people talk and laugh when the love of her life was gone forever, and she would never see him again?

Her breath was coming faster and faster, her chest heaving. She spotted Lucas’s knife on the table. Glancing around, Aelin swiped it, quickly stuffing it into her pocket. 

For later. She’d need it for later.

______ 

The club was loud, and crowded, and way too hot. Rowan shoved through the mass of bodies, trying to make his way to the bar. He was already regretting coming with Lorcan, who had disappeared and was likely flirting with some woman somewhere. The haze of drunkenness swept through Rowan’s mind, blurring his senses. He wasn’t wasted, but he definitely wasn’t tipsy. 

Finally, he reached the bar. The barmaid was a pretty woman with pale skin and red curling hair. She looked at Rowan, giving him a once-over, and her red lips curved into a smile. “How can I help you?” Her voice was raspy. 

“A tequila shot, please,” Rowan answered. She turned and bent down a little too far, making sure Rowan saw the view. As she prepared his drink, she peered at him through her lashes. “What’s got you drinking alone? Where’s your girlfriend?” 

“No girlfriend,” Rowan said roughly. “You?” 

The barmaid shrugged. “Situationship.” Rowan nodded and took the shot. “I’m Remelle,” she said, leaning across the bar. 

“Rowan.”

___

Thirty minutes later, they were making out against the club building. Remelle tasted like whiskey and cinnamon, and she smelled like a bar in the best way possible. Rowan was drunk and horny, and she was a perfect fix. 

They stumbled toward the parking lot, Remelle laughing huskily as Rowan tripped on a rock. They reached Rowan’s car and locked themselves inside. Rowan pulled the backseat down and when he turned back to look at Remelle, she was only in her underthings. She grabbed Rowan’s shirt and tugged him to her, bringing her mouth to meet his. 

          He ran a possessive down her leg, which she curled around his waist. Remelle pulled his shirt off and let out breathless giggles at the sight of his top half. “What?” Rowan growled, kissing down her collarbone. 

       “So muscular, shit,” Remelle snorted. She let him lay her on the extended car seat and watched lazily as he kissed his way down, down….

After they were done, Remelle propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at Rowan. Her hair tickled his face, and he closed his eyes. She leaned down and kissed him roughly, biting his lip for good measure, before turning and beginning to pull her clothes back on. 

“Sorry if I didn’t make it clear before, but I’m not looking for a relationship,” she informed him, buttoning up her black work shirt. “Just wanted some release. Stressed out from school and all.”

“I don’t want anything either. Just some quick bangs sometimes,” he replied, full of relief she felt that way too. 

Remelle laughed and looked at him fondly. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. You’re hot.” Rowan snorted and rolled his eyes. Remelle took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. “My number is on the condom packet,” she breathed before walking out the car. 

Rowan watched her go, the quick satisfaction of their actions leaving quickly, self-loathing sinking in. He was a therapist, for fuck’s sake. He was using the coping mechanisms of his patients, habits he’d said himself were toxic. Yet here he was, using other’s bodies for a quick distraction before his memories came back.

He got dressed, sent Lorcan a quick explanation text, and drove home, the alcohol wearing off. He got home at 1:23 am and didn’t even shower before sinking into his mattress, his unhappiness surrounding him like a cloud. 

But one image stayed in his mind as he sank into sleep - a picture of beautiful blue eyes.

[heartlites]

tomorrow, friday, is my last day working my crummy job. i told myself i would go in today (thursday) but i didnt. i just cant bring myself to care- and i had a massive headache this morning (and leona was being a lil shit all night). but, anyway, i will work friday to say good bye and to try to make sure i have okay-ish money saved for a little bit. im going to still pay for groceries until i run out of money. i see my therapist this coming wednesday, the 17th, and i will talk to her about starting my disability application.

anyway, with the coming freedom, there's a collection of things i want to do. i really need to clean my room, the messiness is killing me. i want to get my kitchen back to decent, too. i want to try and get back to painting or drawing, in particular i'd like to paint something for my therapist as part of my farewell to her after working with her for 9 years.

i also really, really want to get back to my spiritual practices. i havent really done any prayers or spent time with Isis in months and i miss it. i wish i had some guidance while working with Her and exploring my faith, too. i feel like im fumbling around in the dark, trying to be true to the practices that have been in place in devotion to Her, but i lack any good foundation or knowledge. i feel like a blind child reaching for Her.

outside of this, other things i want to do include finishing my recent embroidery project even if its a bit fumbled and messy. i need to get a punch needle to finish the other two. this saturday i am going to go to barnes&noble to pick up some new books to read through in the coming months. i want to get some kind of history book and then some kind of mystery novel. at least two books, maybe up to four depending on prices. then, there's the shows, movies, and other media i want to watch, read, and/or play. this list as follows:

interview with a vampire

bridgerton

nimona

dungeon meshi (currently watching a little with friends!)

that's all i can think of for now. i want to add more books to this, i'll probably come back and edit this post once i've gotten my new books this weekend (side note: wish there was a used bookstore i could go to, but alas, i don't know of one anywhere near me; additionally, wanna get back to going to the library).

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hello - it's John again, anon who asked about the blackout stuff

I had another question and an update

We did find the alter, and she is a new split, and is a trauma holder, I didn't know it at the time I had sent the ask but one of our abusers tried to contact us (went looking in our notesapp history and messages) which caused a switch & total blackout, we've had a few more since then since things have been stressful but she is trying to communicate, just harder with very bad aphantasia and dissociative barriers. Haven't had therapy in a few weeks and we're in quarantine this week, but have therapy again this upcoming Thursday so we will talk about it then but the therapist doesn't know the full extent of us being a system other than knowing that we are and that most likely was trauma that formed us,but we are gonna try to talk about it more, so you have any advice on bringing it up?

And onto my question before - is there dissociative disorders other than DID? We have a lot of alters (like 1000+) and most of them are fragments and some fully fleshed, but we all still tend to be somewhat similar, I think maybe it's a safety thing so it wouldn't be noticed, and I thought did always had very different alters, we tend to be more similar than not even though there are quite a few exceptions, but we have horrible memory sharing, I usually retain some level of "done something but idk what exactly" but we lose a LOT of memories and feel detached to ones that we do remember like they aren't "mine" per se just that "I" was there for it, in addition I never ever switch out I'm *always* here unless something very big happens that throws everything into disarray, it sort of makes me feel not valid because we don't have control over switching and I can't ever leave even if others can come in and out of the fronting area, I think/know that I do have a dissociative disorder of some kind because it is very impactful and impairing my symptoms, but I guess don't feel valid sometimes because I also like being a system sometimes other than the memory and dissociation

-john

Hey John, we’re probably getting to this too late to share advice for talking to your therapist - we hope that they were understanding and everything went well! We’re sorry if our absence here made it more difficult for you to talk to your therapist about what’s been going on in your system.

As for your second question, there are a few other dissociative disorders besides DID. There is OSDD (other specified dissociative disorder), P-DID (partial dissociative identity disorder) and DPDR (depersonalization/derealization disorder). However, it’s possible for systems with DID to have hundreds or thousands of alters, if not more! Systems with this many alters may have polyfragmented DID, although polyfragmentation has just as much to do with a system’s complex structure as much as having a high alter count.

We are not polyfragmented, so we can’t provide much in terms of advice or personal experience when it comes to understanding polyfragmentation. Any polyfragmented system who sees this is more than welcome to weigh in with experience, resources, or advice!

When it comes to not feeling valid, we’d like to offer some words of encouragement that might help y’all, if that’s okay.

First off, it’s very normal to not have control over switching, especially for systems who haven’t been able to make much progress either internally or through therapy! Our own system has been improving when it comes to managing switches, but we still don’t have full control over who fronts and when. Not being able to control switches doesn’t mean your system is invalid, and we can assure you, lots of systems out there function in that way!

Also, it’s not as rare as you might think for systems to have frontstuck members… even for many folks with dissociative disorders like DID. Our host is usually fronting to some extent (albeit often quite dissociated). And there are plenty other systems with frontstuck members too!

Finally, it’s okay to like being plural or part of a system, even if you have a dissociative disorder. Yes, it can often be impairing, difficult, painful, and overwhelming… but it can also be comforting, joyous, fun, or exciting! We have a complicated relationship with our plurality, but most of us love being a system and we wouldn’t trade our plurality for anything in the world! Having a mental illness or disorder doesn’t mean you have to be suffering all the time, and finding joy and happiness in our disorders can help make living with them so much easier!

Good luck out there, John. We hope things go well for you and your system in the future!