#writing helps coping?

[youchangedmedestiel]

This ficlet is called "You are perfect the way you are" (also available on AO3). This came to me because I wasn't feeling so great. I wanted to hear those words, instead I wrote them. But if you need to hear them too, then this is my gift to you. And also, you are perfect the way you are! This is clearly not my most elaborate fic but if it can help at least one person to feel better, then it makes my day. I hope you'll enjoy reading it:

"I love you." Cas declares, his arms holding himself up above Dean, his hands resting on the mattress at each side of his face.

"What's that for?" Dean chuckles, because what else can he do when Cas is facing him, blue eyes piercing deep in his, honesty all over his face.

"You are smart." He says, kissing his forehead.

"Right." Dean answers, not believing a word of it.

"You are funny." Cas adds, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Cas." Dean says quietly, he wants to tell him to stop but he can't.

"You are kind." Cas keeps trailing his road, kissing Dean's cheek, noticing the light blush starting to grow there. Dean wants to hide it, so he turns his face towards Cas's arm. "Dean." Cas tries to make him look at him again, but without success. Instead he uses his other hand to grab Dean's chin and make him look up at him. They lock eyes and he adds, "you are beautiful." And he kisses his lips before Dean gets the chance to look away again. It's a chaste and soft kiss. Dean chases it when Cas moves his head away.

"Are you done?" Dean asks, acting annoyed but his blush betrays him.

"No." Cas answers, squinting his eyes. "Did you listen to what I said?"

"Yeah. I'm clearly out of your league." Dean jokes, but Cas isn't.

"Dean!" He says loudly, frowning. He softens quickly when Dean looks up, his eyes wide open, surprised by Cas's tone. "You are perfect the way you are and I love you." Cas insists on every syllables, never looking away from Dean's eyes. Even when you're joking and it's not the time, he thinks. Dean can't escape this, trapped by Cas's body against the mattress. The only thing he can do is watch how sincere Cas looks when he pronounces those words.

"I love you too, Cas." Dean whispers, lifting his upper body from the mattress to reach out for Cas's lips with his. That kiss is not as chaste as the previous one. He grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down with him.

[kell-eramis]

Thinking about this line from the Transformers Annual. Instead of saying “me!” or being defensive, Bumblebee says “nice people”—even though perhaps back in the time Optimus and Pyra were talking about, Bumblebee was likely being genuine. However this line denotes that at least at this point in time, saying things like that is a conscious decision to be “nice”. It’s a conscious facade, and part of why Bumblebee works so well with Starscream in phase 2–they’re both stuck between who other people perceive them as, and who they are and become as they heal post war. As they do their best to unite neutrals, autobots, and decepticons, or colonists and cybertronians. Part of why they both end up failing to lead is BECAUSE their reputations precede them in such a way, but that doesn’t mean they can’t still push towards their wish to see Cybertronian become home once more, and being able to be themselves and rest with each other. Bumblebee and Starscream are a lot more alike than many people—both within and outside of canon—think.

[runby2]

Kinda miss your aa4 whump stuff, it was neat

more enmeshment horror 4 u

[figuringthengsout]

Me right now

[enobariasdistrict2]

the cato to annie pipeline is still real to me btw and something i think about because katniss is here thinking about both of them like "wow they are mentally ill" except she's legitimately scared of one and sees the other as docile/meek/an extension of her boyfriend/odd/non-threatening.

but what katniss doesn't seem to remember is annie came from a career district so not only could annie have easily been (and probably was) raised with a similar rhetoric/propaganda/mindset as cato but she also could have terrified the other kids in her arena the same way he did. they became trained killers but they're both exposed to the harsh realities of the arena, watch someone they care about die in a horrifically violent way, and lose themselves/their minds/what they were raised to believe in because of it

[deusfoundry]

kagehina but they're easing each other into retirement. they're both well past their prime, somewhere in their mid to late 40s. they're still part of a professional team of course, but it's getting harder and harder to keep up with the physical demands of the sport. their bodies just aren't the way they were a decade ago, knees buckling with each jump and muscles becoming sore way too early into a five set game. they spend less time on the court, until eventually they become absent from the starting lineup.

it's a reality that's hard to face, being pried away with unstoppable force from the very thing that breathes life into your being by your own body, for two people who yearn to be standing in front of a net for the rest of their lives. who crave the sound of a ball landing with full force on the polished floors of a court and the buzzing sensation on their skin when the game reaches its peak.

but tobio and shoyo have silently agreed that they'll do everything they can to make this, the wearing down of their bodies and careers moving at a slow and steady pace, easier on both of them.

they start off small, spending the afternoons of their days off bouncing a ball back and forth between them. this is routine, familiar. it makes them feel like they're in highschool again, each warm orange ray of the setting sun reflecting off their skin bringing them back to when they were sixteen.

suddenly, the cicadas are singing and karasuno is fresh from a devastating loss against the great king.

suddenly, snow cascades in white ribbons to the ground. tobio is looking at shoyo, at the sun, and utters the words with great conviction.

"you can fly even higher."

suddenly, it's spring in tokyo. adrenaline courses through their veins in monumental waves. and just as quickly as the tides change, the world collapses. shoyo falls to his knees.

suddenly, it's the spring. the one that will never come again.

the moon rising above the sun is a familiar backdrop to their banter and the silence that bleeds in between playful squabble. they call it a night at around the same time, when either of their stomach growls or when their shirts cling to their backs due to the sweat.

they find other ways to alleviate the dread that's slowly creeping in. and on days where it's harder, where their bones are heavier, they visit a local volleyball camp for kids.

there's something about watching a new generation of players taking their first steps that dispels their apprehension entirely. they watch with a certain fondness in their eyes the childish frustration at each missed spike and failed digs. they offer words of encouragement, pieces of advice between bouts of light-hearted disagreements that makes the kids laugh.

and when one of them finally slams the ball down over a lowered net, an unmistakable glint of passion in their eyes as they stare at a reddened palm, tobio and shoyo find the idea of retirement less daunting.

[itsmarsss]

early bird

request: hii i love scandalous and was if would you ever write a poly ozzie/fizz/reader fic?? no pressure or anything, i really love how you write and after the angst (and the more to come from future chapters) something cute and soft would be needed lol (also fizz in suspenders💞💞 😔)

You jolt awake at the sound of a horn. That fucking horn. No matter how many times you throw it away, Fizz, somehow, finds some way to have another one the next morning. You don’t think it’s too far-off to suspect he hides a secret stash of them somewhere in the house. 

You groan, shoving a pillow over your head to conceal the noise, but it’s to no avail as Fizz pulls it from you. 

Ozzie stirs, and he gently pulls your head off his chest so he can sit up just to glare at Fizz. “Could you not?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Why’d you wake us up so early?” You question. “None of us has to be up until 9 today.”

“And how do you know it’s not 9?”

“The sun is literally still rising,” you tell him, pointing at the big window across the room. 

“Well I woke up and I had to go to the bathroom and then I couldn’t sleep again and I tried! But I couldn’t. And I don’t wanna be the only one awake…” he pouts, and he’s obviously trying to get pity points with that so as to not get further complaints about the horn thing. 

It gets Ozzie immediately. “Oh don’t make that face you know I can’t resist it.”

“Uh-huh, that’s why I make it,” he crosses his arms over his chest and smiles, tongue poking out a corner of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes and suppress a smile of your own. Can’t argue with that flawless logic. “What do you even wanna do so early?”

Fizz moves his body towards you by extending his legs, getting his face impossibly close to yours as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You get the hint, and laugh before planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re cute. But no way. Still too tired.”

He exaggerates  an eye roll. “So lame!”

“And yet! You still love me.”

“Barely.”

“HA!” Ozzie laughs at him sarcastically.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a simp, Froggie.”

“Am not!”

“S-I-M-P. Simp.”

“So are you!”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Ozzie defends himself, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, everyone’s a simp. Now can we go get some breakfast or what?”

“Thought you said you were too tired.”

“I’m never too tired for breakfast, Froggie,” you pinch his cheek.

“Hey!” Ozzie complains, pretending to take offense to you making fun of his nickname for Fizz, despite it being a routinely occurrence since forever, and pulling him in a tight embrace.

Fizz squeezes himself out of Ozzie’s embrace, laughing, and you all get up off the bed. “Soooo what are we having?” He asks as the three of you exit the bedroom, and you both look up at Ozzie, expectantly. 

“Why am I the one who has to make it?”

“I mean, I can make it if you want,” Fizz says, and the three of you laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion.

“Yeah, no.” Ozzie affirms, serious, before looking at you with a raised brow. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m just soo, soo tired, baby, look,” you pretend to yawn, and Fizz tries (and fails) not to laugh at it.

“You help me or no deal.”

“No fair! And Fizzy just watches?”

“Thought you liked it when I… watched… you two.”

“Your charm can’t get you out of everything, you know that?”

“It’s been working so far.”

“You’re too smug sometimes, Froggie,” Ozzie comments as he crosses the kitchen to get something, not turning around to say it.

“I already said I can cook if you really want me to!”

“Not after last time!”

“See?” Fizz tells you. “He won’t let me!”

“Oh and you’re obviously sooo bummed about it.”

He smiles, and Ozzie nudges you with a pink spatula. “Here.”

You realize he’s put on his frilly, tiny baby blue apron, and smile at the sight. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m thousands of years old and, like, three times bigger than you.”

“And so what do we say?”

Ozzie lets out a giggle. “Thank you, babe,” he pulls you towards him by your waist, placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Okay, so what are we making? What do I do with this?” You wave the spatula he handed you around.

“What do you wanna eat?”

“Waffles!” Fizz yells out.

“Ohhh, yes!” You agree.

“I could eat some waffles,” Ozzie decides.

“Hell yeah!” Both you and Fizz exclaim at the same time, high-fiving each other. 

You didn’t care about being woken up so early anymore.

[merakiui]

SKULLY HAS RAIDED MERA'S BLOG!!!???

Skully over shining Zuzu?

UNFORTUNATELY...... yes,,, (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) WAAAA I AM SO SORRY, ZUZU!!!! My heart is just too big and I fell for the dead guy with his Victorian rizz and kiss addiction. I couldn't help it...... he charmed me. This obsession is terrible, dear Izuna!!!! OTL he's completely taken over my brain,,, a parasite that I can't shake!! >:(

He's so precious,,, my beloved King of Halloween, oh how I adore you most ardently. <3 I wish him nothing but peace and happiness forever hehe.

[realbeefman]

stacy is sooo interesting because she's in love with house but knows that they will never ever be able to have a healthy, stable, sane relationship because they're too similar so. she finds house-lite instead and marries him and. essentially moves on with her life! and is successful in this because she's a moderately well-adjusted person!

wilson, in contrast, never manages to escape the inevitable, in spite of his best efforts to find a house-lite of his very own, because he's an absolute fucking freak and ends up glued to house to the bitter. bitter end

[herashifts]

if you’ve been in the shifting community for a while, you’ve probably noticed the common thread of positivity and keeping a positive/optimistic mindset. while that 100% works for some people, sometimes you’re not positive. sometimes you’re just angry. and why not use that to shift?

so, introducing……

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℝ𝔸𝔾𝔼 𝕄𝔼𝕋ℍ𝕆𝔻 ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

get comfortable.

take some deep breaths, count, or anything that gets you into that calm, relaxed meditative state before shifting.

visualize yourself standing in the void.

you have claws on your fingers and are so strong. you are an unstoppable force.

remember where you want to go. remember the people, experiences, and feelings connected to that reality.

know that it’s yours already, you just have to get there.

begin to move forward.

there is resistance, ropes and chains of energy tugging at you like spider webs, but your claws are sharp and your arms are strong.

scream and weep and howl. your fury gives you strength.

visualize tethers connected to you to something far behind you. these are your ties to your OR. sever them. you don’t need them anymore. you are free.

move forward. cut and destroy anything trying to stop your progress. you are unshakable. your will is indomitable. keep moving.

rip into the veil with your claws. slice it to ribbons. make clear the path.

keep moving forward. do not stop.

scream as much as you want. here, your anger is a blessing and your determination is unshakable.

your sorrow and grief can be your fuel just as your rage is.

keep going until you either fall asleep or feel yourself in your DR.

rip and tear until it’s done.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

One Messed Up Bat

Batfamily x Reader

wc: 1.2K pairing: platonic!reader x Batfamily summary: One of them finds you having a breakdown warnings: sh, blood, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. a/n: inspired by @thatwritterbeach, I don't usually write for a topic like this, (RULES), but I thought this would be a good quick thing to write. I really tried to keep some parts as vague as possible, but please don't read if you're struggling with similar issues. Reach out if you need help

988Lifeline

Please remember you are not alone. there's still hope and people who care and love you.

»You can‘t keep acting like a child, I done with this.«

Dick whispered in a harsh voice, through gritted teeth. It‘s been a long week of patrolling and you were disobeying orders more often to help even more people. Or more specific, getting distracted by minor issues.

»I will not apologise for helping people— «

»You disobeyed orders, again. You could have gotten hurt or hurt us as well. There‘s no space for you to get distracted over small things.«

He interrupts you sharply, leaving the batcave dead silent. With a quiet exhale, he speaks up more softly.

»You are benched until further notice.«

»You can‘t— «

»Benched.« Bruce confirms, leaving the conversation without another word. It feels unfair to be treated like this for helping some people out that weren‘t the main issue at the missions earlier. It was draining.

◐

»Hey, Dick… do you have a sec?« You ask through the phone, holding it close to your ear. As another sob threatens to leave your lips, you bite down firmly into your hand, muffling the noise out.

»No, you‘re still benched.«

He answers back without even giving you a chance to explain, being still mad at you. It‘s only been roughly a week.

With a heavy sigh, you scoff at him.

»That‘s— you know what, fuck off.«

After hanging up abruptly, you toss your phone onto your bed, heading quickly to your en-suite bathroom. It feels like there‘s no other way than to release some built up frustration and anger.

◐

Loud shouts of your name are being heard before Damian yanked the bathroom door open, halting once he sees the scene in front of him. He seemed almost elevated before he skipped to your room to show you his latest drawing, but now he looks deathly concerned.

There‘s some droplets of blood near you on the bathroom tiles, a bladein your hand while you try to hide your injured arm. It doesn‘t work, Damian connects the dots quickly.

But before you could stop Damian and explain, he is out and drags Tim to your bathroom, begging him to fix you. It breaks your heart even more, realising you have no way of hiding and can‘t explain this. Loose bandages lay around, your medkit next to them in an desperate attempt to patch yourself up from earlier.

»Damian. Give us a minute.« Tim‘s face looks dark, shadows falling over his features which make him look more intimadating than concerned. The younger one finally manages to calm down and retreats form the doorway, giving you both privacy.

It feels unreal. You slump back, sitting down at the edge of your bathtub as soon as you feel your legs start to get weak.

Tim doesn‘t talk, picking up some bandages from your medkit before reaching for the antiseptic and faces you. He kneels down and treats your injured arm, his touch being so gentle, it seems as if he is afraid of hurting you even more.

»You know I have to tell.«

He finally speaks up, keeping his gaze trained on your arm and carefully wraps it up, making sure it‘s not too tight or loose.

»Please don‘t.« You plead quietly, voice shaky and thin-sounding. This only makes Tim sigh out exhausted, knowing this will be a long argument if he won‘t make himself clear to you.

»Those are deep,« he gently puts his hand over your bandaged forearm, focusing on you, »they almost need stitches and I‘ve never seen Damian this afraid before. You can‘t go through this alone.«

Tim stays knelt in front of you, his hand travelling down to hold onto yours in a reassuring grip. He knows he is not the best in comforting people, but he will do anything to make this stop.

»It‘s not that serious, I‘ve had way worse. This is just another one of my stupid— «

He interrupts you with a hug, shutting you up immediately. You don‘t know how to react to it, wrapping your good arm around him in a loose grip. Tim lets go, keeping his eyes on you as if to make sure you won‘t disappear.

»I need to tell Dick, at least.« You shake your head quickly, still hoping this could be a secret only you know about. But it‘s too late, there‘s no way you could get away from this.

»No...«

»I need to tell someone.«

You huff out frustrated, trying to argue against him, but Tim speaks up more firmly.

»Either Bruce or Dick. They‘ll find out either way, and you aren‘t doing this alone.«

He stands before you, giving you a few seconds to think and collect yourself as you continue to sit at the edge of the bathtub.

»I can‘t stop you, can I?«

He shakes his head slightly, crossing his arms. »Not a chance.«

With a final sigh, you open up about this all the while he listens and keeps his eyes on you, eventually helping with cleaning the mess up around the bathroom.

He gets why you didn‘t get any help before, why you‘ve been hiding it ever since and what drove you to this point. And he can‘t help but feel guilty. There‘s always been some kind of bond between you two, having seen you as his older sibling. Seeing you this broken and defeated is new and scary to him. Still, he feels it‘s his responsabilty to get you help from everyone.

Tim made a phone call to Dick first once he got outside onto his balcony, leaving you with a hot chocolate together with Damian in the main area.

»Get home. Someone here needs serious help and I need everyone to help.«

He is not the one to beat around the bush, getting straight to the point with Dick. His older brother is concerned, having no real idea of what‘s about to happen once he gets off the train and to the manor. The second call was made to Jason, who seemed more than busy at the moment. But he promised to be there in a few hours either way.

Lastly, Tim tried to reach out to Bruce, but he didn‘t pick up or read his messages. It didn‘t help the situation, leaving him angry and bitter.

Getting back to the main area, he sits down beside you, just waiting for Dick to arrive and get you some more comfort. The hot chocolate and cookies from Alfred helped a lot already, the rather annoying company of Damian was a strange reassurance that not everything is lost.

»What happened?«

Dick finally reaches the couch, shrugging his jacket off while lookig between you three. Alfred‘s standing back, observing the interaction from afar.

Exchanging a brief glance with Tim, he speaks up and explains it briefly to Dick, making his heart drop. The older brother doesn‘t hesitate to wrap you into a tight hug, apologising repeatedly and looking over you as if to make sure you aren‘t hurt in any more areas.

You end up being huddled up with the three of them on the couch, some cartoon playing on the big TV as you all share a big blanket. Jason arrives at last, being confused about the view before he just joins in, sitting down at the other end of the couch while watching the cartoon as well.

988 Lifeline

←MASTERLIST

[rockwgooglyeyes]

Perhaps it's just one of those differences between the way that people experience fandom- obviously, we're all going to process a story in a different way than someone else because we're all different people from each other- but one of the most peculiar things for me about being part of a fandom, especially one so deeply mired in character death (Alien Stage) is the way that . . . well, the idea of the actor au isn't comforting to me. It probably has something to do with the way that I am but alternate universes and the idea that the characters are just actors playing parts, well, it doesn't really help me to reconcile the deaths of the characters I love. It feels kind of like when someone fakes their death in a story and their loved ones still grieve them because grief is an emotional response not a rational one. Like, it's pathetic to say but I'm still grieving Ivan's death. I'm still not over it. Literally I almost broke down crying in a Thai restaurant about him about a week ago because I heard My Love Mine All Mine and thought of him.

I don't know what it is exactly but perhaps it has something to do with the way that, for me, aus and the canon storyline are separate in my mind, almost as if they're different stories entirely. Especially with the way that in the ALNST actor au, they are actually different characters who act differently and have relationships unrelated to their canon counterparts, it's hard for me to be like "oh yeah, mizisua and ivantill are fine because they're just actors!" because that doesn't help me cope, personally. Because even though they share the same names, that isn't ivantill and mizisua to me. They're different characters, living out different lives, and not in the way that regular aus are where they're more or less the same characters but in a different font but the actor au and canon are entirely separate in my mind, different guys. But that's probably just a me thing.

[dreamissy]

What fucks me up about the Cazador fight is that in the end he is just some guy, a vampire sure, but just some guy.

Astarion’s stories build him up to be an inhumanly strong monster, his fear painting the picture of someone strong and terrifying. But once you get to him, Cazador is almost underwhelmingly plain and his entire fight isn’t the nightmare that you would have anticipated.

Sure, he has a few good spells but he spends most of the fight hiding behind his servants and turning himself into mist. A few well placed arrows and a few spells of your own and he goes down without barely any fight. It’s his servants that make the fight complicated.

Cazador himself is not a threat to your party. It’s those that he controls that are the danger and that’s why he lost as easily as he did. Because he couldn’t fathom that Astarion, someone he deemed his creation, someone he forced to do his abhorrent biddings for years, was part of what made Cazador so powerful.

Cazador without his “creations” is just a man.

Astarion without his “creator” is a man who’s loved.

[reddamselette]

“I feel like my brain is going to explode,” Leo mumbled before dropping his head into his hands. He made a show of shoving away his notebook and the textbook he was using to study the material beforehand. It had only been twenty minutes since he sat down and it felt like eternity.

Jason snorted, nudging Leo in his side with his elbow. “I know it’s not that you don’t understand, so what’s it really about, Firefly?” He tilted his head in curiosity, sparkling blue irises locked onto his boyfriend’s face like they were made to just watch and observe. Leo had always been so pretty to him.

Leo shifted in his seat to comfortably lean into Jason’s side, his arms wrapping around his torso, smooshing his face into Jason’s arm. “I don’t know, I just…I really hate math.”

Jason leaned back against the booth, laying his arm across Leo’s shoulders and pressed a soft kiss into brown curls, rubbing comforting circles into Leo’s arm. “How about this? We’ll continue for another twenty minutes, yeah? Then we can take a long break, however long you want.”

Leo cracked a smile, lifting his head to meet Jason’s gaze and he kissed his cheeks, his nose, his lips. “Well when you put it like that,” he said before planting another quick peck to Jason’s cheek and sat upright. “The greatest monster of all time: Mathematics.”

“You’re such a dork.”

[lightasthesun]

Sometimes, writing fan fiction is looking at your own disability and then assigning its symptoms to two characters for extra flavour. One for you, one for you, one more for you, and ONE MORE FOR YOU, before building an entire series around it lol

[fatedroses]

he is indeed very proud of himself.