#even though it's the same amount of years

[carmenized-onions]

Ad Interim. | No Service

logline; The days and doubts and desires; the air, underneath the shoe.

[!!!] series history, this is the ninth; the amount of links are getting nauseating just go to the landing LMAO.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I listen to this playlist too much in my day to day now, fr.

portion; 3k+

possible allergies; you're almost ten chapters in, you know very well by now that these two are rife with anxiety and insecurity.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets she/her'd mb)

fun fact: i finished this one 19 hours after the last chapter, whoops, but let it sit in my drafts to give some breathing room and do some rework

It is t-minus three days, until the worst Friday of your life.

But today’s Tuesday, and though you feel a touch uneasy, you figure it’s probably just the breakfast from yesterday at La Mattina settling in your stomach— Or, at least, hope it is.

You’re at home, sitting on your couch, pensive, haggard, leaned over. Elbows to knees, prayer hands to face, staring at your phone on the coffee table in front of you.

Just send it. Just send the text. Don’t be a fucking wuss. You’ve re-written it in your notes app like five fucking times— He does not care this much, he doesn’t even have basic reading comprehension— Okay, that’s mean— But it’s just not that deep. Just fucking! Send it!

Actually no, no, upon sixth review, the paragraph you had written out was way too intense, way too presumptive. Backspace, backspace, backspace—Just say hi. Let’s just start with Hi.

‘Yooooooooo’

Are you fucking possessed? Good Lord. How is he already typing he never used to reply this fast, what the fuck—

‘Are u fucking haunted?’

‘Fuck is yooooooo’

‘Yooo to you too, cousin’

Faster texter now, but Richie is still the same guy, at the end of the day.

‘this is a loaded fucking question’

‘but do you think you’ll be free any time this week?’

‘not unless ur dead or dying’

‘are you dead or dying?’

‘not that I’ve heard’

‘but I was thinking maybe we could like, get food or smth’

‘chat one on one. Been a minute, yknow’

That was too much. You didn’t need to do all that. Now he’s gonna go well who’s fault is that? And it’s yours. You know it’s yours. And then you’re gonna have that fucking conversation— Which is what this whole meet up thing was supposed to be about in the first place—

‘heard’

‘can’t get time off but fak needs to have his training wheels ripped’

‘could have dinner at the bear this week? Like 2 hours. Then I can watch him and keep him from shitting the bed’

‘and still get to do a fucking one on one, you corporate speak ass’

‘I didn’t know how else to fucking say it alright!!!!!!’

‘Dinner @ bear sounds good to me’

‘but probably ask carm/syd first if it’s cool’

‘yea yea I’ll fuckin check in with daddy don’t worry’

‘that sucked for me. That sucked to read. Go to jail.’

‘already have.’

‘I’ll let u know a time when I know. See u chip’

You heart it. The classic signal that it’s the end of a conversation. Holy shit. You did it. You actually texted someone that you miss that you miss them— Not directly, but you know Rich knows. And specifically, to book a dinner, to talk about what happened, to apologize for it. That’s pretty fucking huge. Which means—

It’s time to eat a whole freezer cake and lay in your pyjamas all day and interact with not a single soul on this entire planet. You’re absolutely at your social limit, for the day. Maybe you’ll talk it through with Mikey, actually. To the air, more accurately, but, y’know, same thing.

You’re gonna get dinner with Richie. You’re gonna get dinner, with Richie, this Friday. And it’s not gonna be awkward or weird, at all.

It is t-minus two days, until the worst Friday of Carmen’s life, so far, at least. There’s always next year.

But today’s Wednesday, and though he feels a little nerve-wracked, he’s pretty sure it’s just because the kitchen was so fucking dysfunctional this morning, and now that their prep’s off, the tempo of the whole fucking day is off, and they're behind on two tables. And fucking seriously this time, can someone get him a fucking marker that fucking works.

Okay, maybe it’s a little more, than nerve wracked.

Sydney is ever the intuitive, and always correct, at the station next to him— Because yes, they’re still down a hire since the meth guy, so now Carmen is on line.

She can tell, that somethings wrong with him, something’s always wrong with him. “Take your ten, Chef.”

Carmen shakes his head, obviously, there’s still prep to catch up on. And if he doesn't do it, it's not gonna get done, and even if it does get done, it's not gonna get done right. He’s pressing the dead sharpie down on the tape, like if he just brute forces it, it’ll start to work. “M’good, Chef.”

“Carmen.” She turns to him fully, stopping her work. And so, he does too. “Take your fucking ten.” She deadpans, she’s not taking no for an answer. She rubs her fist over her heart.

Carmen takes a beat, before nodding, doing the same. “Heard, Chef.”

He needs to look over expense reports that he can’t quite comprehend, anyways.

He really needs his sister. He steps into his office. Despite the fact that they re-constructed just about everything in the restaurant, this musty office remains the same. Untouched. After caving down walls, they had to cut the budget somewhere. He’s glad though, that it's untouched. It might be crowded, poorly organized, have an off smell (probably because of the birth in here, just a few weeks back), but it’s exactly as his brother left it, and that helps him feel… Connected, somehow.

What the hell is Var vs Budget? He’s googling every other word, here. He’s more than grateful, that before going home on mat leave, Sug set up a good enough automated Excel sheet that he could just plug in numbers and it did all the calculating for him. Doesn’t mean he knows what any of the numbers mean, but, they’re there.

He knows that red equals bad. Natalie told him that very specifically. Which did seem like she was calling him fucking stupid, but he let it go. There’s a lot of red. That’s a lot of bad. Well, not a lot, but like, a third of this is red. That’s probably more than it should be. How many months do they have again? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He is never gonna get to pay himself, he’s never gonna be able to pay Syd, he's never gonna get her a star, she’s gonna live with her dad for the rest of her life, you are never gonna get to work here, you’re gonna work as a bottle girl for the rest of your life, he’s never gonna get his shit together so he’s never gonna get to call you his, he’s gonna have to hand the deed to Cicero and then fucking everyone is gonna to lose their jobs and he’s still gonna be him. He’s still gonna be him. Carmy Berzatto, the chef that lost everything, little brother to everyone's hero who blew his brains out. Starless in Chicago, unable to feel anything more than sorry for himself. Carmen’s gonna die as Carmen, and nothing more. At the end of the day.

Take a deep breath, Bear. Relax.

He’s catastrophizing. You told him that. He forgot to look into it. He googles that, instead of another business term he doesn’t understand.

‘Fixates on the worst possible outcome and treats it as likely, even when it is not.’

Well, it does seem pretty fucking likely that he’s doomed to fail and fall into a Sisyphean nightmare of opening restaurants and falling on his fucking face, dragging everyone he loves down with him with his stupid failed pipe dreams. He's no better than his brother.

He tries his best to think of whatever level-headed bullshit you'd give to him, right now, tries to taste the hot chocolate, the lavender and cardamom coffee. He smells your shampoo, in his hair, that helps.

Maybe, maybe it’s just been a bad week. Maybe there will be a lot of bad weeks, maybe there won’t be. Maybe things will be fine, maybe they won’t. You and Syd will still succeed, even if he fails. Everyone will, even if he fails. He has a very capable crew. And while he cannot escape the thought that failure is around the corner, at the very least, he is comforted by the idea that at least he will be the only one sinking with the ship he commands.

The thought of drowning alone is still impossible to rid of. Though.

But you’ve sent a text. And isn’t that a wonderful distraction?

Your connection results in response to his, from this morning, of course. You actually got it today. He swells with what feels like pride, and despite the fact that no one's looking at him, he has to hide his smile with his hand, embarrassed by how happy he is, when he sees the photo you’ve sent, just now. A selfie, sitting next to an oven, Other Tony’s oven. You’re holding a fried wire in your hand.

The text below it is a wonderful salve, ‘If you ever fuck up your ovens, I’ve got like, 10 thermocouples in my personal stock now :))’

So good to him, too good to him. Too good to anyone. ‘Heard.’

Carmen so, so fucking desperately wants to ask you to come to The Bear, right now. You’re only two blocks away, at La Mattina. You’d come, if he asked. He knows that. But he also knows that even if you calm him down, in the long run, it’ll set his day even further off tempo, he’ll be distracted the rest of his shift, and that’s the last thing he needs. He can handle this himself.

‘:)’ For levity. Or something. He’s trying. You give it a heart, so that means he’s done something good, he’s pretty sure.

There’s a knock at his door. Richie does not wait for an answer before coming in. His knocks are more like warnings, really. Carmen’s quick to tuck his phone away, he knows it’d be perfect cannon fodder to be teased into oblivion.

“Aye, cous—”

Carmen does not let the man get a word in inch wise, “Who’s on expo?”

Richie grimaces, this fucking song and dance, again. “Syd.”

“Who’s on her station, then?”

“T.”

“And hers?”

“She’s doin’ fuckin’ both Carmy— And—” Richie pulls a sharpie out of his breast pocket, throwing it at him. Carmen catches it. “Fuckin’ works. Alright?”

Marker works, and the system works. He catches the double meaning, too. Carmen nods, “Heard.”

“Christ.” Richie looks to high heaven, looks to his best friend, really, to give him strength. “Can I take my fuckin’ turn now?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ‘head.” Carmen turns to his desk, looking over the excel sheet, again. He can’t imagine Richie needing all of his undivided attention, right now, he’s not you.

Speaking of you, he can’t find your repair expenses anywhere on here. He needs to text Sug, about that. No, she’s got a fucking baby, he’ll at least look for a physical copy, first.

“I need to take two hours, on Friday.”

“Huh?” Carm’s head snaps up. Okay, maybe he does need to give his full attention to Richie, right now. “Eva got a fuckin’ recital, or somethin’?”

“No, no, uh— Chip wants to get dinner.” Rich scratches his nose with his thumb. “Thought since Fak's been training to host f'like, the whole fuckin’ month, could do dinner 'ere, let him do a run on us. Two birds, one bullet, y’know.”

“It’s stone.”

“I’m not fuckin’ high, cousin—” “No, it’s— Alright.” Carmen closes his eyes, hand over his face, deciding this is not the fight he wants to choose. “Tony’s getting dinner with you?”

“If I’m allowed, your fuckin’ Majesty.”

If it were up to Carmen? He wouldn’t be. But you specifically asked. Why, he has no idea. Carmen crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah, s’fine. Just start at like, a not peak time. Like 4:30? Then when rush starts after 5 Fak’ll have a lil' momentum.”

“Heard. I’ll tell ‘em.” Richie nods, turning to make his way out.

Carm’s leg bounces, a tick that he’s pretty sure he’ll never get rid of. “… Ey Rich?”

He stops, turning back to Carmy, “Yeah, cousin?”

Carmen taps the end of the sharpie on the table, not looking at Richie, “What’s uh— Why d’you call Tony ‘Chip’?”

Ever so slightly, Richie’s brows furrow. “Did'j'ya ask her?”

Carm shakes his head, “S’why I’m asking you.”

Richie takes a beat, head rocking to the side, “Y'should ask her, she’ll tell you.”

Carmy squints, at that, “Is it fuckin’ dark or somethin’, cousin?”

What’s so secretive about Chip? He figured it would be some stupid inside joke with chocolate chips, like Sug with the salt mix up. Richie swallows, frowning just a bit. He clearly does not know how to answer this question, which just makes Carmen even more curious.

“S’ not dark, kinda, it’s just, y’know. Personal.” Since when the fuck did Richie have respect for personal? Probably since he sent him to stage. Goddammit.

“Did you not coin it?”

“Mikey did.”

Oh.

Huh.

Mikey got to do that first, too, eh?

“But, y’know, ask her, she likes you well enough to tell you, I think.” Richie shrugs, palms out. “Kinda tells stories like that better than me, anyways.” That's high praise— Not in the sense that Richie's a great storyteller, but that he's willing to admit it, for you.

“Oh, she doesn’t bury the fuckin’ lead?”

“Oh, fuck you.” But it’s true, so Richie’s amused. There’s something nice, about being known. Even if it’s to tease.

There’s a lull of silence. Quite frankly, Carmen’s hoping that Richie’s general disdain of silence will force him to confess your nickname backstory, just to fill the void. It doesn’t. Instead, it just gears him up, in the worst way, able to read the look on Carmen’s face.

“You really wanna fuckin know, huh?” Richie tilts down his head, teasing. Carmen groans. Oh dear god, why him. “Oh, fuck, you fuckin’ like her, don’t’chu, cousin? You fuckin’ dog.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rich—”

“Aye, Chip’s a real catch, I gettit— Works hard, plays nice, cleans up good— Y’have my blessing.”

“Didn’t ask for it.”

“Aye,” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen like he could smite him. “Don’t gimme no talk back, she was my boy first, a’right? One bad word from me, n’ your lil’ fantasy—” He gestures an explosion with his hand, making a ‘pop’ sound with his lips.

“Gone, cousin.”

Carmen leans back in his seat, playing with the sharpie in his hand. He’s essentially Kubrick staring down Richie, but the guy is unaffected. “Friday, 4:30, two hours. If Fak fucks up, you’re on deck.”

“Heard.”

“Jeff, can I please get an all day, baby?” Baby is Tina’s new HR approved version of ‘for the love of fucking god’ She’s definitely at her limit, meaning Syd’s definitely at her limit on expo. Richie starts to step out, walking backwards.

“You comin’ cousin?”

Carm scratches his nose, straightening up back to his desk. He wishes he could go back to the kitchen, where he knows he’s good, instead of in here, with some goddamn spreadsheets that he cannot comprehend beyond bad. “Uh, one sec, I just need to finish this fuckin’—” He shakes his hand in the air, “Whatever the fuck this is.”

Richie nods, tapping the doorway on his way out. “Heard… g’luck.”

Carmen does not look at the spreadsheets. No. He thinks. He doesn't think about business.

That wasn’t true, was it? A phone call from Richie wouldn’t be the end of him, end of you, would it? Carmen is on the losing playing field here, practically everyone here has more history with you than he does. If he had a… lapse in behaviour, and it got back to you, would that ruin him? God, even his work family ruins things for him. Or could. Which means they will. Catastrophizing.

Whatever. What the fuck ever. He needs to find your invoice. After some flipping through last month’s file, he finds a sticky note from Sug between loose pages.

‘reminder: ask carmy 4 tony invoice’

He squints. You said Nat took care of it. Maybe it’s an old sticky note, he’ll text her about it, it’ll be a solid forty hours before he’ll get a response, anyways. Mom stuff. He really needs to go visit his niece again, soon. Maybe this weekend. Take Richie’s car. But then he'll probably will be forced to take Richie, too. Maybe he should just ask you, instead. Let Nat thank you for the heating pad she’s been loving, properly. Have dinner, all together, in an actual family home, instead of just each other's apartments. That'd be nice.

Yeah. Yeah. He’ll ask you on Friday, when you come for dinner. He grabs a pad of paper, biting the cap off his sharpie. He’ll make you something off menu, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, anyways, he’ll have time to play, on Friday.

He’s gonna do right by you, this Friday.

Tomorrow, you’ll be getting dinner with Richie, and it’ll be the worst Friday of your life.

But right now, it’s Thursday night, and you’ve finally finished Carmen’s piece for The Bear. You know you told him if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to put it up, but admittedly, if he doesn’t like it, you will be crushed.

One big white canvas.

Nine perfect squares, perfectly equidistant from each other at all angles.

Each square a snippet, a photo transfer. The squares themselves are messy, sun damaged, bleach stained, light flared. All twinged blue and yellowish. But so perfectly cut and curated.

Each image, something new. Starting at the top left, it’s The Original Beef. Then, the inside. Then the booths.

Then the second row, the sandwiches, held in hands.

The center photo. You've taken almost all of these photos on a disposable from yesteryear, but this is the one you like the most.

Mikey. The only transfer completely unbleached, unaltered, unruined. He’s holding two cut outs. One, Food & Wine and the other, a small section in the off off off pages of the New York Times.

Both specifically the one’s that mentioned Carmen, winning Best Chef and the James Beard.

Mikey was so proud. So so proud, silently, just with you— Couldn't look soft. Carmen does not know this photo exists. No one does. You hope this piece will act as the catalyst for you to be able to talk about the elephant in the room you’ve yet to open for him.

Right next to Mikey, is a balloon on a pipe— A photo you grabbed from Sydney and printed. You can only imagine the stress you could’ve eased, during their fire safety test. C’est la vie. Fak got to prove himself.

And on the last row, the new, ritzy, booths. The Seven Fishes dish— Also a photo you stole from Sydney. And finally, The Bear’s sign. Taken at night, lit up in all its neon glory.

Though the images are disconnected, starting from Mikey in the center— Clean, the flaring and staining grows more intense at the pictures in the corner. Just bordering on illegible. It all feels interconnected, woven.

It’s Carmen. Or, at least, you think it is. That’s what you were trying to achieve. You took inspiration from the way his brain works, the way he cooks messy but produces orderly, the way he’s grown something out of what was barely more than nothing. The way love and grief is at the center of everything. He’s awfully inspiring.

You’re excited, to show this to him tomorrow, on Friday. Hopefully all goes well, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, you’ll probably have a little time to talk, on Friday. You won’t be able to get into everything, no, you’ve promised most of your bandwidth to Richie, but you’ll make a good start, on Friday.

You’re gonna do right, by Carmen, on Friday.

Tomorrow.

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

i've still got 2k of beats to cover for the next chapter, and have 7.9k already written out, for it. This is going to be fun. lmao. I'm genuinely very very excited for you to see it, when it comes out. Cannot believe I thought like 4 chapters ago that'd this next chapter would be the one to be released next. I almost briefed over all of these past few chapters to be nothing more than snippets in a chapter, I would never forgive myself if i went through with that plan, fr.

Anyways, no time for the future, this is NOW!! I hope I described Tony's paintin' good. I think it'd be nice. MBMBAM reference in the intro, are you fucking HAUNTED? ARE YOU FUCKING POSESSED? Love griffy, had to. Carmen CANNOT stop having anxiety attacks, someone get him on prozac frfr.

Tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my hat, I'm gonna need some words to chew on while I write, anyways. Hitting a wall choreographing this back half of chapter ten my GOD. Also oh yeah, silly aesthetic thing. I dunno if anyone noticed or cared, but i do a different ombre banner when it's carmen's perspec-- Did it last chapter too, aint that cute?

Also, I must finally give in, I was lazy to do taglists, but have folded, so here u are mfs. If you'd like to be added, you gotta leave me an essay somewhere. It's the RULES! Well, leave an essay and also ask to be added to the taglist that is but IT'S THE RULES!!

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101

fully added people that never asked to be on here, you're just like, top fans, so i thought it would be nice, but if you WANT TO BE TAKEN OFF LET ME KNOW I'LL DO IT IMMEDIATELY ALSO IF I'M FORGETTING ANYONE WHO ASKED PLEASE DO REMIND ME

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen x oc #carmen berzatto x female reader #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear #fanfic series

[hydriko]

BREAK IT OFF.

gojo is finally out of the box : gojo satoru x gn!reader

genres / warnings : angst, hurt/no comfort, cursing, spoiler warnings⚠️!, reader is mad at gojo, mentions of character death, gojo is in love w reader but nothing is established, arguing, Gojo + Yuji survive bc I refuse to make them die, reader is also a teacher at JJT

notes : I was talking with a cai bot earlier so kinda inspired by it (sxgarcore on cai)! I was also feeling angsty 🤗 Also I've never exactly read the manga, so my knowledge is very general so please lmk if I've made any mistakes!

19 days that Gojo Satoru had been sealed in the prison realm by Kenjaku. Or, in your eyes, 19 days that Gojo Satoru left the world to suffer at the hands of Sukuna.

You hated him. You hated him for letting himself get sealed up, blaming him for all of the casualties and the people you’d lost. Students, for God’s sake, to be put up against the king of curses.

Gojo is the strongest, and there is no doubt about that. Your anger sometimes felt like you were doubting the abilities of you and your fellow sorcerers, because there was always a possibility that things would’ve ended up the same way with him there.

Still, you couldn’t help but be angry with him. Those 19 days, you along with everyone worried about his wellbeing and safety. All that time spent trying to get him back whilst fighting a demon from hell that possessed the body of Yuji Itadori.

You knew that Gojo had been unsealed, and you were trying your utmost best to avoid him. You knew that you’d lose your shit on him if you came face to face with him, so you decided to distance yourself for the sake of everyone’s happiness during recovery.

What you didn't know, though, was that those days felt like years to him, like an eternity on the brink of madness. It drove him insane knowing that he couldn’t be there to help, and the longer he was there the more he began to miss you. As soon as he was back, the first thing he wanted to do was see you again.

You were at JJT, not particularly doing anything other than roaming the hallways trying to clear your mind. The hallways were unusually empty, any typical day you’d probably be teaching your students—but that wasn’t the case now.

You rounded the corner, eyes focused on the ground when all of a sudden you walk straight into someone. You were about to say sorry before you actually realized who it was. Surprise! It’s Gojo.

When you first made eye contact with him, it practically made your blood run cold. But surprisingly, you didn’t feel the same amount of rage as you thought you would. Rather, you felt shocked, completely frozen.

"Long time no see, yeah?" He spoke after a good long minute of silence, putting on the same stupid smile that told you that he wasn’t actually happy. The same smile that said that nothing had happened, the smile that said that his mind was elsewhere.

"Gojo," You frowned, eyebrows furrowing and expression falling. You felt your shoulders slump slightly, almost as if you were disappointed at his presence.

You watched him tense, confusion creeping onto his features as the gears began to turn in his head.

He expected you to run into his arms, hug him, act like you missed him, anything but the way you were reacting right now.

"The one and only. Did ya miss me?" he laughed nervously, his smile faltering slightly. Why were you acting so…mad? Was it something he said?

"I'd ask Nanami that question," you scoffed at him, "He's dead."

Gojo knew that already, but it didn't hurt any less coming from you. He paused, the facade he wanted to put on so badly slowly slipping from his grasp.

"...I know," he muttered, a blank face replacing his previous, more confident one.

That was all he could say. He didn't even know what to say, especially with the way you surprised him with being so angry.

He knew that many important people were lost, but now he couldn't help but begin to think that maybe it was his fault that they died. That it was his fault because he couldn't be there to save them. The way you responded filled him up with pure guilt, and he didn’t like it.

You rolled your eyes, his bluntness pissing you off. You sighed, turning on your heel to go the other direction. You planned on going to the hospital in a bit to visit the injured others, along with Shoko who was there right now.

You didn't want to be anywhere near Gojo. Not now, not when you saw him being the reason that people were injured in the first place.

Gojo panicked a little as he saw you start to walk away, reaching out and grabbing your wrist to spin you back around. He couldn't just let you leave. He'd spent 19 days trying to escape, trying to see you again, and he was not going to let that chance go. "Where the hell are you going?"

"The hospital, where everyone is," You muttered, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You weren't wrong, though; Nobara and Megumi were some of the few who were there now. You managed to get out with a couple of scars and bruises, but the others weren't so fortunate.

Gojo sighed softly, letting go of your wrist. He felt like he should've expected that answer, to be honest. Knowing that the people he cared about were injured, knowing that you probably were too, it all just didn't sit right with him.

"Yeah...of course," He put his hands back into his pockets, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up at you. "Are you alright?"

"Why do you care?" You quipped, "It's not like you cared if we'd be alright when you got locked up."

Ouch. That one stung a little. But maybe he deserved it.

You knew you were being meaner than you should, and a part of you knew that it wasn't entirely Gojo's fault for getting sealed, but it felt right.

To you, Gojo was reckless; he was reckless enough to get sealed in the prison realm, to let everyone else handle the king of curses. Even so, he let Kenjaku and Sukuna have that kind of power, where they wouldn’t have to worry about the him because he was locked away.

You both stood in silence for a moment, albeit very uncomfortable silence. It felt suffocating to him, and it made him want to just hug you and apologize a million times over. But he just couldn’t.

“I just—” you paused, sighing as you thought about what to say, “I just wish you were there.”

The hint of pain in your voice almost killed Gojo. He should’ve been there. He knew that much.

Gojo kept quiet, completely unsure how to respond to you. You, the person here probably cared about the most, hated him the most right now. He wanted to fix it all, to time travel back so that he wouldn’t be sealed up. He wanted to make it better but he didn’t even know where to start.

With his lack of response, you took that as your queue to leave. You turned once again, this time leaving Gojo where he stood.

You didn’t know if you could forgive him, at least not soon. You’d let it be, but who knows how long it’ll take you to come back around? It could be weeks, months, years—all options left a sour taste in Gojo’s mouth.

#x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk spoilers #jjk x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #angst #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #hurt no comfort #hydriko #gege hate club #gege when i catch you gege #x gn reader #i am so tired #im posting this at 1:45 am someone please help

[graveyardlifeguard]

Survivors Part 4

Summary: Occurs during the events of Season 4x13 and Season 4x14.

*This is my first attempt at writing after many, many years so please go easy on me*

Warnings: Shooting, Injury, Blood

Strictly Angst with a teeny tiny bit of Fluff

Eddie Diaz x Paramedic! Reader

The next morning, Eddie and I were both feeling the effects of staying up late as we both moved around the house like drunk zombies. Carla arrives early as usual and laughs at Eddie and I before making the comment, “You both look exhausted.” As we’re getting dressed for the day, she was kind enough to make both of us mugs of coffee. I can’t remember the last time I drank a coffee so fast. Eddie was mature and sipped his correctly while he threw me funny glances when he noticed that mine was gone before we were even halfway to work.

Once at work, Eddie parked the car but before I can move to open the door, I feel his hand on my bicep to which he smoothly pulls me back towards him. A long kiss is once again initiated, which I’m not complaining about. When it’s decided that we both need to come up for air, just like last night, Eddie places a soft kiss to my forehead. Although giving me a kiss before work wasn’t unusual, there was something about this one that just felt… different. It’s not like we weren’t going to see each other for a while. We both worked in the same station, we see each other constantly, well that it is call depending I guess.

“What’s all that about cowboy? We’re both going into the same place.” I ask, still smiling at him.

He pauses before answering, staring into my eyes as though the answers to life greatest mysteries sat behind them. “I just love you so much.”

I don’t know how but the smile on my face somehow grew ten times bigger than it already was. We had this game going for years of who could say ‘I love you’ the “largest.” It was always a race to see who could say it last or the largest amount. To the moon and back, to infinity and back, etc. Usually, he won but today I wanted it to be different. So as quick as I can, I give him a quick kiss on the lips, whisper “I love you more than anything” and high tail it out of the car. I can hear him laughing and yelling behind me but that doesn’t matter. I said it last, so I won this round.

After changing into my uniform, I made sure to hide from Eddie so I can maintain my win. Shift change is done rather quickly with my nighttime relief where he reports that nothing crazy had occurred throughout the night. Hopefully, it would stay that way today. Gathering all the information I have on Sheila Leute, or whatever her name is, I make my phone call to CPS. They give me the generous offer of coming by in a few days to check on Charlie. They tell me how bogged down and short staffed they are, causing there to be a large back up on their already established cases. Fair enough, we unfortunately could relate to low staffing issues. Jumping in my CCP vehicle, I make my way towards Charlie and Sheila’s residence.

Making my way up the elevator, I feel my personal phone vibrating in my pocket. Luckily, my smart watch is connected to my phone so I can see who is calling without having to dig into my pocket. The elevator door opens up at the same time that I see that it’s Eddie who is calling. I end the call and begin to send him a voice message that I’m busy when I notice that Shiela and Charlies apartment door is already open. Walking up to the door, I find Charlie standing by the window, looking absolutely panicked. I rush into the house, quickly finding his mom on the living room floor, grasping at her throat with foam coming out of her mouth. I feel my eyes widen for a moment before I immediately get to work helping her. I hear Charlie say behind me that he had already called Eddie and that Eddie was on the way. That probably explains why Eddie was calling me. I had already told Dispatch where I was and what I was doing so the 118 had to know I was already here.

By the time I hear sirens outside, I had already placed an IV started in her right hand with a bag of Fluids running in. I luckily found a place to hang the bag before I work on ventilating her with the BVM. Charlie tells me that he put eye drops in his moms cereal and that he just wanted to see what would happen when he did it. Before I can say anything to reassure him, the door slams open even further and Captain Mehta and his crew are beside me. I can hear Eddie beginning talking to Charlie as I update Mehta and his squad about Sheila’s condition. From the kitchen, I can hear Charlie tell Eddie that he has known for a while that his mom has been putting eye drops in his food and drinks. My heart drops as I realize that Charlie knew exactly what his mom was doing to him. How she was the one that was poisoning him and making him sick. I glance towards the kitchen and lock eyes with Eddie. The realization that he knew hurts more than either of us could have realized.

“The kid’s going to need treatment too,” Buck starts, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I guess they had figured out how Sheila was causing Charlie’s illness after I left this morning.

“Same kind of poisoning, just smaller doses. But for a really long time.”

After loading both Charlie and Sheila onto stretchers and making sure both crews were okay for the moment, I begin to pack up my gear. Thank God I had brought it up with me. As I reach down to pick up the monitor, a hand beats me to it. A familiar hand that belongs to someone I mentally and emotionally need at the moment. I once again look up and meet Eddie’s eyes. There’s a look of sympathy there that I can’t quite understand. Sure, I had a personal connection to this situation, but not as much as Eddie did. Nothing is said for a moment as I notice that Buck is still standing nearby in the kitchen, with my medical bag on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Is all I can get out for the moment, but it seems to convey everything I want to say as both men just smile and nod at me. Moving towards the elevator, they update me on how they figured out what was causing Charlie to be sick. Eddie tells me about how he saw the eyedrops the other day while looking through the cabinets. By the time we reach the bottom floor and make our way through the lobby, Charlie and Sheila are being wheeled to their respective ambulances. My SUV is sitting out front, now surrounded by Battalion 7, Captain Mehta’s firetruck, and the two ambulances. Noticing the confused look on my face brought on by seeing Battalion 7 with no Bobby in sight, Buck laughs and tells me it was the only vehicle available. On the way to talk to Charlie, the boys place my bags in the back of my vehicle before meeting me at Charlie’s side.

“Will I see her at the hospital?” He asks me. Honestly, the question breaks my heart. Even after knowing what she was doing to him, that was still his mother and he still wanted to be around her. Eddie responds to Charlie before I can, telling him that she’s a little more sick and that she’ll have to go to a different hospital. From the other ambulance I can hear that Sheila has woken up and is now yelling for “her baby.” In all honesty, it pisses me off. How can you, for years, poison your own child yet want to call him your baby. It just didn’t make sense to me. The doors close to the ambulance with them leaving shortly after.

I let out a defeated sigh as Buck and Eddie move towards me. With Buck standing in front of me, Eddie moves to my left, something I had noticed that he had subconsciously started doing ever since he proposed. Nonetheless, I appreciated them being close to me in this moment. My mind needed them to help with the emotional toll this call had taken on me. I feel like I should’ve done more. I knew the other day that something wasn’t right and yet I bit my tongue and did nothing about it. It felt like this whole situation was my fault.

“I should’ve gotten here sooner.” I think to myself, or so I thought. Not realizing that I had said it out loud, I move my eyes away from Charlie’s ambulance and meet the concerned stares of Eddie and Buck. They both knew how I took certain things personal. A call like this with an outcome like this? Oh yeah, I was going to take it personally. Both men move to say something before Captain Mehta, unknowingly, interrupts them.

“Lieutenant, you want to ride with the kid to the hospital?”

“Yeah, that would be gre—” My sentence is cut short as a loud gunshot rings out nearby. It feels as though time stopped. Everything and everyone seems to be moving in slow motion. Looking up at Buck, my brain registers that he is now covered in blood. It’s on his face, his neck, and his shirt. Has he always been in that shirt? It’s not our uniform. Thinking of the uniform, my uniform feels wet all of a sudden. Why would my shirt be wet when it’s not raining outside? Time is still moving incredibly slow as I look towards Eddie, who now has an absolute look of terror on his face. It takes me way too long to realize why my shirt is wet and what’s causing the cold sensation to move down my body. I’ve been shot. Someone shot me. Glancing down at my shoulder, I can see the gnarly hole in uniform shirt that accompanies the new hole that has made its home in my body. My breath catches in my throat, and it feels impossible to stand upright. My knees give out on their own and I feel myself slowly drop to the ground. All at once, time seems to catch back up to me and I find myself staring across the road at Eddie and Buck. They are behind the cover of the firetruck with Mehta appearing to be holding them back. My body grows cold quickly, and my head begins to feel heavy, like it weighs thirty tons. There's a weird, wet sensation on my head and I realize that my blood is soaking through my hair, aiding the cold sensation I’m already feeling. How odd…

Lying on the cold, now blood-soaked ground, I can hear Captain Mehta yelling through the radio that there’s been shots fired. And that a Paramedic has been shot. My brain constantly reminds me, maybe to keep me conscious, that it’s me. I’ve been shot. I’m the Paramedic that’s been shot. Glancing up through blurry vision, that seems to be growing darker by the second, I can still register that Eddie and Buck are lying on the ground, yelling for me. At this point though, my hearing feels like I’m lying on the ocean floor, and they are on the shore, whispering to me. Despite my best attempts at keeping them open, I can feel my eyes shutting.

When I come to, it’s pain that has awoken me. Someone has grabbed my arm. The one will a new hole in it. “I’ve been shot,” I tell myself again and again. Maybe if I keep saying it, my brain will keep me awake. And alive. There’s someone screaming in pain. My brain doesn’t register that it’s me screaming in pain only that someone is screaming. It distracts me long enough that I realize that I might not have been the only one shot. Eddie and Buck are here too. One of them might’ve been shot. Oh God. How was I going to explain this to Christopher or Maddie that their loved one had been shot? While trying to process everything that’s going on, I realize that somehow I’m standing on my own two feet. But it’s not for long as I quickly find myself being thrown over someone’s shoulder and passed along to someone else. I feel like I’m flying as I now see that I’m in the back of the fire truck. Why am I looking up at the roof of the truck?

Items and faces blur together again for a moment and my hearing once more sounds like I’m being dunked under water. It sounds like there’s more gunfire but at this point I can’t really tell what’s going on. A face appears above me and I think it’s Eddie. It’s hard to tell as my eyes keep closing on their own. There’s a sharp tug at my shirt and my vision clears up from the jolt of pain that follows it. Eddie is leaning over me while Buck is slamming thick gauze over the new hole in my shoulder. I’ve been shot. I have been shot. This doesn’t make sense. I was just on a Wellness check call. How am shot? I’ve been shot? Eddie appears again in front of my face and this time I notice the blood covering him. My head falls to the side to check on Buck where I find that he too is blanketed in blood. Somehow though, he’s absolutely covered by it. I can see their mouths moving but I’m not hearing anything that they’re saying.

My brain focuses in again. Eddie and Buck are soaked in blood. Were they shot too? Buck is still holding my shoulder with what feels like all of the strength in his body. If it didn’t hurt so much, I would crack some sort of joke with him about it. Everything blurs again and when I come to this time, they are both leaning over me, and I can finally hear what they are saying. This time, I can see the genuine fear in both of the boys eyes.

“Stay with me baby, you got to stay with us!” Eddie pleads, he can’t sit still as he keeps moving over top of me. His eyes are crazed as he looks all over the place as if he’s searching for something. Another bullet wound maybe? I’ve never seen this look in his eye and I don’t like it. I want to soothe him and tell him that I’m fine but the only thing I manage to cough out is,

“Are y’all hurt?” They look at me like I’m crazy before subconsciously looking over themselves, and each other, before answering. Buck opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His mouth and jaw twitch to move but it’s like that’s all he can do in the moment.

“No, no, no baby we’re okay. We’re okay, okay? You’re going to be okay and we’re okay” Eddie tells me, struggling to get the words out. In the background I can hear what sounds like Mehta yelling over the radio, “…A Paramedic has been shot…It’s the Lieutenant from the 118!”

Eddie and Buck are back in my line of sight now, but it doesn’t last long. It’s almost like my body needed the reassurance that they were okay so I could rest. Their mouths are moving again, I think, there are words coming out of them. The only thing I feel like I know is that I have a hole in my shoulder, and I’ve been shot. Words are muffled and time feels like it’s slowing down again. I don’t want to die. I want to get married to Eddie Diaz. I want to spend the right of my life with him. This isn’t fair. I love him. And I know he loves me. This isn’t fair to him. Or to me. My head lolls back to the side and I feel someone’s hand straighten it back up. It’s Eddie and I can see the tears rolling down his cheeks. It’s cutting through the blood like a knife, making a clear pathway down his face. He’s talking to me and the way that I long to hear what he’s saying is unnatural. Somone is placing an oxygen mask on my face, and everything goes quiet. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I try to look up Eddie one last time. I don’t know if this is it, but I want my last look at the world to be of my world. Eddie Diaz. I don’t know if can sense it or see the change in my eyes, but something shifts in his. Although I can’t hear him. I can somewhat see him. He looks even more panicked, more petrified and I don’t how he manages it. I’m just really tired, and cold. There’s a hole in my shoulder….and I’ve been shot. By the time the truck feels as though it’s coming to a sudden stop, I lose the battle to consciousness and slowly drift off...

#911 imagine #imagines #eddie diaz #angst #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #ryan guzman

[kismet-cat]

(@four-minutes-before-death)

You ever think about how Yomiel's ten year hell (Alone, noticed by no one except his only friend, unable to make any significant mark on the world) is how Sissel spent his entire life?

Because I do, and it fucks me up a normal amount (lying).

(i didn't think i'd have a lot to say in response to this but then i did. oops.)

man... sissel. he really thought his whole life that he was helpless to meaningfully help the one person he cared about... the same way missile->ray felt in that og timeline. because they were pets, little animals, in a human world. because there was a communication barrier, a gap of understanding, that they couldn't cross.

(sissel is able to save the day, get the help he needs, when he and everyone around him assume him to be human. and sissel listens to ray the second time around because ray has disguised himself and learned to play the part of the wisened mentor.)

it's not just the pets who feel helpless, though. like you said, yomiel feels entirely cut off from the world; more a ghost, a shadow, than a person. jowd sees himself as being at the mercy of fate because of the bad karma he gained from the life he "stole". and his choice to "confess" leaves all his loved ones feeling helpless as they struggle to uncover the truth and save him from his "fate", no one of them having all the pieces to solve the puzzle.

for as comedic and fun as ghost trick's regular tone is, it's also a story filled with tragedy and despair. and in the face of such circumstances, it's easy to blame it all on higher powers, on fate. to deny, renounce, what agency you actually have.

but, see, that's the trick -- none of the characters in ghost trick are powerless or insignificant (none of the main cast, for sure). their faith, their compassion, their efforts, matter.

you won't always be able to save the ones you love. not on your own. but that doesn't mean they can't be saved. because you're never entirely on your own. not forever. if you keep trying, if you can hold on long enough... even the impossible can happen.

ultimately, the only thing that's "fated" in ghost trick is that these people are connected to each other. the nature of those connections — the details of the events that bring them together — can change.

tragedy is not inevitable. it's man (and animal)–made. and so, too, are happy endings.

#ghost trick #ghost trick: phantom detective #ghost trick spoilers #analysis #ask time! #sissel #missile #ray #yomiel #jowd #(and the other three mains) #world's best pets

[augustcastle]

5 years

A lot changes in five years.

Him and Ryan are married in a beautiful ceremony, in that same park that he proposed to her in. They carry out a honeymoon by deciding to give Colorado a try and he was...he'll deny that he was teary eyed saying goodbye to his brother.

Though he knows it's not for good, never for good.

They try out that ranch and turns out? It's one of the best things they could have done. They have a decent amount of land, space for her flowers, for a ton of garden beds, maybe even a greenhouse, places for his horses to run, and room to spread out from their tall yellow house with a wraparound porch.

Definitely something he never saw in the cards for himself.

He runs a brush over Gunpowder's black coat, taking the time to groom him in the early hours of the morning. God, if his grandfather could see him now.

Though, maybe he can.

#impara33: 5 years

[cressidagrey]

The Starlight Princess - Chapter 1

Summary: 

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

Warnings: 

Azriel getting really, really drunk, Rhys being nosy and unhelpful, pining over Elain (though it's more like pining over his lack of a mate)Discussion of the Death of Rhys’ Mother and Sister

To say that Azriel was drunk, was an understatement. 

He couldn’t actually remember the last time he was as wasted as he was at the moment. It must have been…centuries ago. 

But right now…right now he was nearing black out drunk. Which was a feat in itself. 

He poured himself another drink…emptying the bottle of liquor he had bought just for this exact purpose. 

Getting blackout drunk on the night of Elain and Lucien’s wedding. 

He opened the next bottle, his hands only slightly shaking…topping off the glass. 

He shook a sip, welcoming the smooth burn. The absolutely obscene amount of money he had spent on it was definitely worth it.

He had let the shadows play the lottery again, which had ended with a lot of gold coins for him and not feeling that horrible about it either.  Granted, it probably wasn’t fair to the other faes taking part but Azriel didn’t care. 

He was quite good at not caring these days. 

He had two years of practice, right? Two years since that Solstice…And most of the time…he was doing better than today. 

But right now…Right now, Azriel wanted the whole world to burn. 

So here he was on his back porch, staring into the mountains surrounding Velaris. 

His home. He had built it. Every fucking stone placed by his own hands…or by his shadows. 

The shadows had at least taken to his building project with enthusiasm. If the whole spymaster thing didn’t work out for them, building stone cabins in the mountains seemingly suited them just as well. 

It had taken him the better part of two years until it was finished. 

Until he had moved out of the House of Wind… leaving the memories behind, that whispered in the walls. Every night and every day…until he had stopped torturing himself with living there…

And now, here he was. In his own house…with massive charmed windows. Letting every bit of sunshine in…Every bit of the beautiful night sky too. 

After two years, here it stood…nestled into the mountains in Velaris, with the nearest neighbours a good few miles away…and warded to the gills with everything Azriel could throw at it. 

He wasn’t High Fae, he didn’t have the pure magical power Rhys possessed…but he had not lived 500 years without picking up something.

It was his house. His. His alone. He had built it, he had chosen everything from the curtains to the knobs of the kitchen cabinet to the headboard of the bed.

His house. His alone. 

His house.

Nobody else needed to know about it. Nobody else needed to have an opinion about it. 

Nobody but Azriel. 

Only he needed to like it. Only him. Just a tiny bit of peace, carved out by his own ruined hands. 

He swallowed another sip of the cold liquid, holding the tumbler loosely in his hands…staring out over the mountain. Even the house didn’t help today. 

The self-loathing was out in full force that night. 

Tomorrow he would go back to being the spymaster, concentrated, aloof… Tonight he would drink himself unconscious.

Forget everything that was going on. Ignored what little fledgling feeling he had allowed himself to have before they had been stomped on. 

It didn’t matter. Of course, it didn’t matter. His feelings didn’t matter. They weren’t even sidelined, they were completely ignored. Or twisted and held over his head. Sometimes both.

Being alone was for the best. 

Even the shadows were quiet today, holding a silent vigil… Though he knew that if he asked… they would give him everything they could to make him feel better. 

But there was nothing that would achieve that.  Not anymore. 

He felt the scrape of talons against his mind shields…courtesy because knew that his shields weren’t holding that well either…not with all the alcohol in his bloodstream. 

* Go away.* He didn’t want to deal with Rhys. He wanted to be left alone. Could he have that? For one fucking night?

*Azriel .* Rhys voice was reproaching just slightly, but Azriel didn’t care. 

* Go away,* he hissed once again. Leave him alone. Everybody left him alone anyway, couldn’t they give him the same courtesy tonight? 

Just leave him alone. 

*Do you want me to send Cassian?* Rhys asked and Azriel snorted in dark amusement.

 No. No, he didn’t want to see Cassian. Cassian, who would endlessly badger him. He didn’t want to see Rhys either. He didn’t want to see either of his brothers. He didn’t want to think about what they had and what he didn’t have. That just ended up making him feel jealous, and that wasn’t fair to them. 

Or to himself for that matter. 

It always was just…It was so unfair, on so many different levels, and Azriel didn’t want to think about it. Not tonight. 

* No .* 

* Maybe Mor?* Rhys offered next. 

He couldn’t be serious, right? 

He snarled at Rhys. * There's no fucking need to be that cruel.* 

He couldn’t have Mor anywhere near him. Not right now. Not like this. Never. 

Mor and him…there was too much history between them. Too much blood that had been dripping down onto the earth…too much unrequited love that would never be…anything. 

He loved her…had loved her…maybe the first time in his life when he thought that he was capable of love. But it shouldn’t be…it couldn’t be. 

And he did not want Mor trying to comfort him about another…another unrequited love…another love that shouldn’t…couldn’t be. He couldn’t deal with that. And he didn’t need to either. 

If Rhys would just respect him enough. 

* Az,* Rhys tried again, using the nickname only his family used…his family. 

But Rhys hadn’t been his brother when he had ordered him, when he had pulled rank. And for him to use it now…now, when this was the consequence of Rhys’ decisions…

* I want you to leave me alone, High Lord, * Azriel seethed, spitting the title into Rhys’ mind like an insult. * I want everybody to leave me alone. Just for one night. * 

*I’m worried about you ,* Rhys tried again. 

Azriel snorted darkly, the shadows swirling nearer to him…taking the glass from him and putting it down on the floor. They knew better than to try and outright take it away from him when he was in a mood like this. 

He was going to get blackout drunk one way or another. He deserved it for the bullshit he needed to deal with. 

*Do you really think my shadows will let me do anything to myself that will end in death or permanent disfigurement? They won’t, * Azriel snapped. *Don’t worry, I’ll be fine tomorrow. Ready to give you your weekly report.* 

*I don’t care about that,* Rhys shot back. *Az…I am sorry.*

And maybe if the apology hadn’t come then…if it had come earlier…months earlier…maybe he would have been willing to listen…like this…like this he really wasn’t. 

*Great. Leave me alone, and I may believe you,* he gave back sarcastically. *I’ll go back to my drinking now if there is nothing else.* 

*Az…if you need anything, come to me, alright?*

Azriel didn’t even bother replying to that. 

He didn’t want to talk to anybody anymore. 

He just wanted to be there. Right there, sitting outside on his porch, staring at the glittering night sky and getting absolutely wasted…like he hadn’t since he was a youngling. 

And he let the rage seethe in his chest because he had tried everything to get rid of it, had tried again and again to hit training dummies and even Cassian when they were sparring, had tried to channel the anger into productiveness and it hadn’t…it hadn’t worked. 

Not really. 

It hadn’t made him feel better. 

So maybe this would. 

At least for the moment. At least for a little while…and tomorrow he would be a functioning member of society again and do whatever Rhys wanted from him…he would follow the orders and push back the anger and just…exist. 

Maybe he should go to that pleasure hall. Who cared, right? He could nearly taste the bitterness on his tongue at that. 

Why not? 

He wasn’t married, he wasn’t in a relationship…if he wanted to, he could sleep with half of Velaris. 

He could spend his next few centuries whoring around…And if anybody said anything, he would just remind them that it could have gone differently…

It could have gone differently. If Elain herself had told him that she wasn’t interested…he could have dealt with that. He could have. 

He would have understood it because quite frankly, she was too good for him anyway. 

It would have been fine…He could have dealt with it. 

But like this…with Rhys ordering him away…with Rhys demanding it off him…well, like this, he was bitter and angry and would stay that way for a few more decades at least. Rhys could stuff his…

He just took another sip instead, too tired and drunk to follow that line of thought anymore. 

He stared up into the sky, into the stars…and for just one moment he remembered a heart-shaped face, surrounded by dark hair…clear violet eyes…

Another female he had had absolutely no business even thinking about. Or even lick the floor she walked on…another female that he had failed so horribly.

Maybe the most horrible of them all. 

By the cauldron, he missed her. 

She would have his head for behaving like he did tonight. 

She would have raged and snapped at him and he would have given in, because he always gave in as far as she was concerned…and she would have made him go to bed and sleep off the hangover….and been waiting for him the next morning.

He missed her like a limb. 

And he would have given anything so that she would have never died. 

* You know… I have half a mind to kiss or kill you. Kiss you because, for the first time in three centuries, your mental shields are down enough that I have a fucking chance to talk to you and kill you because you needed to get near blackout drunk for this to be possible! *

No. No. No. No. No. No. 

No. 

No, this couldn’t be. N

There must have been something in that drink because that voice…

If Rhys was claws of adamant against these mental walls…Seren had always been…You couldn’t even feel her until she was already inside, like wisps of shadows trailing against his mind. 

He would never forget the feel of her mental touch. 

And here it was. And it couldn’t be. It couldn’t…

But his…this couldn’t be Seren. 

This couldn’t be…

* Seren ?* And still against all thoughts…and all logic…against it all…there was…hope. 

Hope. 

A fledgling little thing that immediately burrowed itself into his heart. 

Hope…

This was a trick. He knew it was a trick. It needed to be a trick. It couldn’t be anything else, right? It needed to be a trick. Because what else…what else…

* Azriel,* she responded, that beautiful voice that he hadn’t heard in so long… and he could feel her amusement bleeding all over him…like it had done so often. 

* You are dead! * he told her harshly. Or maybe himself. * Your brother saw your fucking head. And your mother’s. It was… *

* And he trusted that they were real?* She cut him off.  *Even when they came from Spring Court? Known for its shapeshifting abilities? *

He swallowed. 

He couldn’t…

This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be…

She had been alive? All these years?

But it made sense. It did. It did make sense…

* You want to tell me that they weren’t real,” he realised and he could nearly sense her agreement. 

*My mother’s was. Mine…Mine wasn’t. They had… something else in mind for me,* Seren said darkly. * I don’t know how long I can keep up this connection, Azriel.* She sounded strained, he only realised that now. She had never sounded like that in her life when she talked to him like that. Never. 

* Tell me where you are, * he demanded. Where was she? Where had they hidden her away?

He was going to get her. Right now. Right…

* Spring Court. There’s a Pool of Starlight, a few paces from the Manor,” she answered, her voice growing weaker. *That Pool of Starlight… That’s me. *

#acotar fanfiction #the starlight princess #the starlight princess story #azriel x oc #azriel x rhys' sister

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 3:58

No amount of hectic schedules, exhausting patrols, rowdy villains, and never-ending legal paperwork could ever keep Bakugou from attending his daughters’ extracurricular activities—because he’d literally go through literal hell and back than to ever see a disheartened pout along with the silent treatment after he gets home from work.

You think he’ll ever miss any of his daughters’ milestones? Fuck no!

Bakugou insists on being at every event, his phone—and even an actual camera during a good day—in hand, his heart swelling with pride and unconditional love that makes his chest figuratively hurt; it might as well be a medical problem at some point. 

Because, if anything, Bakugou Katsuki is a father first and a hero second.

“Shit, ‘m late. Have they started yet?”

He’s sweating as if he just used his explosions to propel himself in the air to get to you quicker, but, in truth, he sort of had to just run since the traffic on the highway today would’ve only angered and slowed him down. He left patrol to Halfie, who offered to take his shift, knowing how many times Bakugou covered for him when he was in his son’s piano recital.

“They just started doing warmups,” you answer. “Did you run? You’re drenched to the bone; you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed into some dry clothes.”

“Hah, doubt it.” He snorts, though he does appreciate the thought of you bringing him a spare shirt for just-in-case purposes.

You're always the one who thinks ahead, aren't you? Bakugou knows he’s a very lucky man to have such a doting, caring wife that humbles him whenever he gets too focused on his pride. The balance that he didn’t know he needed!

Ignoring the gawking stares of the other parents—because it’s not everyday you see the Pro Hero Dynamight in mundane activities such as watching his kid take gymnastics’ lessons—he looks through the glass in search of his little princess.

Just as he saw her, his lips curled to that oh-so genuine smile, one that just said, “That’s my daughter, right there! Look at how awesome she is!” 

Bakugou remembers how his parents were the same and how they were very supportive of his interests and hobbies, no matter how odd they may be for a five-year-old. How often do you see someone learning to take on both hiking and archery at the age of five? Bakugou was sure he learned most skills during his childhood that made him a firm hero in the field today.

“She has a bit of trouble with tumbling because of her tummy.”

“Yeah? And does that have somethin’ to do with my awesome cooking?” Bakugou replied smugly. “Besides, ‘ts just baby fat, and I’d prefer to see her like this than to see her thin but often sick.”

“Mhm, and she makes up for the cutest ending pose.”

“And her effortless splits. Have the coaches seen her do that?”

You shook your head. “Not yet,” you say, “but I think they’re about to do it—oh! Look, look!”

And he does; his phone’s camera is already recording his youngest daughter doing a perfect vertical split, while the other girls somewhat struggle to maintain a consistent posture. 

“She’s a natural, hun.”

“She is,” you chuckle, “just like her Daddy to a certain extent.”

“Damn right, she is.”

Bakugou tries to hold back his laughter when your daughter once again attempts a forward roll with the guidance of the staff. Her tummy somewhat makes it a bit difficult for her to do so. The way she hesitates but then does the forward roll, albeit a little lopsided with a smile that shows her adorable tooth gap—it was safe to say that your daughter was over the moon with her gymnastics lessons.

It’s all too much for him to take.

And when all is over, he greets his daughter by picking her up and blowing raspberries on her neck that have her squealing in laughter before he insists that he’ll be the one to talk to the coaches about the upcoming schedules and the progress your daughter has made. 

“Mr. Bakugou, she’s a good listener, and I believe that she’ll be moving onto the next class with the older children in no time,” they told him. “Has she received prior training before this one?”

“She’s also taking ballet lessons,” he answers, “but gymnastics is what she really likes. Ballet was just a compromise since your services weren’t available in our area at that time.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s a joy to have her in class. I’ve already sent Dr. [Last Name] the schedules we offered, and we are looking forward to having your daughter in the upcoming lessons.”

The walk back to your car was light and quiet for a change. Your youngest daughter, Kusami, was out like a light in Bakugou’s arms, having worn herself out with socializing, rolling, doing splits, and whatnot the gymnastics’ instructors told her to do. And Bakugou was just letting the simple moment sink in because this is what he considers the most rewarding part of his day. 

Time spent with his family.

Bakugou also warmed up to the thought of having to interact with other parents. He chatted with a single father earlier, whose daughter was the oldest in Kusami’s class. It was nice to converse with equally enthusiastic and supportive parents that you meet through your children's extracurricular activities.

“Let’s go through a drive-through; get Katsumi her usual order,” Bakugou murmurs, remembering how his oldest daughter, Katsumi, would’ve probably woken up from her nap by now and was probably anticipating her family’s return. 

“Alright,” you nod. “Katsumi and Kusami have swimming lessons tomorrow at five in the afternoon, too. Do you think you’d get home that early?”

“Of course,” he answers. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo drabble #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha drabbles #bnha x reader #bnha drabble #bnha fluff #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou

[iwonderwh0]

If there's one thing to thank anti hankcon discourse it's for the folks around their thirties gathering to tell the teens that they are, in fact, adult enough to decide for themselves who to fuck with and that they do, in fact, find older people attractive.

(And also collectively asking folks in their teens-to-early 20s to stop using the word p*dophilia when talking about literal 30+ years olds.)

Like really, throwing this words in relation to adults downplays its actual weight in its actual fucking meaning, and this is really scary. Age gap might be a controversial topic but not anywhere near it is a matter of comparable scale to what the word ped*philia stands for. Don't turn this word into a buzzword, I'm begging you.

#I think it's like when you're 5 years old #all the 8 years old feel like they're just infinitely older #then in your twenties 3 year old difference is absolutely nothing #The further you're away from being a kid #the less of a difference it makes #10 years difference between 10 and 20 years old is abso-fucking-lutely not the same as between 30 and 40 years old #even though it's the same amount of years #and the same way it's hard for a 5 yo to comprehend that for adults three year old gap is barely a difference #(as it is literally 60% of their life) #here it's perhaps something similar. #I'm in my relatively early twenties and I too feel like I wouldn't date a person who's X years older than me #but in ten more years I don't expect myself to think the same way anymore #as it wouldn't make that much of a difference when it's not 50% of my lifespan anymore #I still don't think I'll find myself in a relationships with someone significantly older #but it would be wild to think that people in their 30-ies aren't old enough to make their own decisions. Let's be real #in this day and age #after you've been an adult for some time #there isn't this much of a power imbalance anymore between you and people who are X years older #or #the same kind of imbalance can be found within the same age category but not due to the age anymore #but things like social class. #Hell #in this sense 30yo can be the one overpowering 50yo.

[ingravinoveritas]

It never ceases to amaze me that despite everything Michael and David have been doing for the last five years and Neil himself saying they are in love, people are still assuming (or just not wanting to believe) that two middle-aged men might possibly love each other in a non-platonic way...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #the amount of 'bromance' and 'platonic love story' in the notes on Neil's post is making me want to gouge my eyes out with a spoon #also people assume that Michael and Anna are in love even though neither one of them has ever said it #and despite everything Michael has been doing for the last five years #it's like people are afraid Michael and David being in love takes away from their other relationships #yet fans want to insist those same relationships are so rock solid #the math is not mathing #fandom woes #let people be who they are #ineffable lovers #discourse

[mumblesplash]

the fact that doctors can just Recommend Weight Loss with no instructions beyond ‘eat healthier/less’ is actually insane to me, i lost weight on purpose ONCE and it took me like 6 years to recover a semi-normal relationship with food and hunger

#uhh #disordered eating cw #just in case #mumbling #like jfc i know i’m not the first to say it and my experience is relatively SO tame #but it STILL fucked with my head for YEARS #and most people don’t go nearly that long between weight loss attempts at all for basically their whole lives!!!!! #and we’re so blasé about it like yeah just eat less to lose weight #and so few people talk about the really weird shit that phase of my life taught me even though they seem like pretty universal things #like when you lose weight deliberately by denying yourself food you get COLD #you get cold and you get in your head and you get sad it’s like being less alive #the times i’ve lost weight/recomped on accident (by doing smth that makes me move more‚ getting better sleep etc) #it’s been WARM #burn hotter move freer feel happier #and also the way hunger feels when you’ve been denying yourself food for an extended time is NOT the same as baseline hunger #it’s actually kind of wild that we use the same word to describe both feelings like that shit is NOT the same #that shit is not ‘being really hungry’ it’s a fuckin. blood curse or some shit you feel straight up unhinged #and i should disclaim here i am not talking large amounts of weight #i’ve fluctuated over i think a 20lb range max since reaching close to my adult height and that’s a guesstimate #but even in my relatively unremarkable little experiences here the way deliberate weight loss fucked with my brain is absurd to me #i’m fine now have been for years but seriously thinking back on it the fact that this is routine medical advice. unreal

[femmeidiot]

being fat is literally so annoying and it's not even like the being fat part it's the stupid ass comments people make like as much as I struggle with body image I've pretty much accepted that this is just how my body is and how it is going to look but I am so tired of having people bring up stupid shit or feel like I owe them explanations about my body it's exhausting everyone should shut the fuck up and leave fat people alone forever cause we could absolutely destroy most of y'all's skinny asses if we needed to and I'm about to start physically fighting the next person who says any sort of bullshit to me

#like I don't owe you an explanation as to why I'm fat I don't owe you telling you that my whole family is fat #I don't owe you explaining that I have an eating disorder and so does my sister and so does my dad even though he doesn't realize it #I don't owe you the explanation that I have been the same clothing size for basically my entire adult life regardless of what my eating #habits and the amount of physical exercise I got but I'd love to make you feel stupid when you find out that I'm the same size now as I was #when I went to gym 4 days a week and took Pilates classes religiously I'm literally the same size now and I haven't gone to a gym in like #3+ years and I don't need to if I don't want to :) #and if I go to the gym it'll be cause I want to because I like to do physical activity not because anyone else wants me to cause god knows #once my fat ass is in the gym every muscle bro and lean skinny girl miserable on the treadmill is gonna be silently thanking god they don't #look like me and trying to avoid being near me the whole time I'm there

[tirfpikachu]

damn son I'm literally a transandrophobia poster and I routinely rail against TIRFism and even I think your takes are wack. "AMAB privilege" GTFO with that man. we can lift up transmasc voices and promote trans unity and talk about radfem ingression into trans spaces without making this another AMAB/AFAB oppression olympics thing - that was the whole problem, we should be doing the opposite. stop taking words like TIRF and pretending to be against radfems when you're eating their talking points for breakfast

tirf means trans inclusive radfem, so tirfs actually are radfems! i am one myself. terfs aren't actually a thing - there are definitely transphobic radfems, but radfeminism includes ALL afab people, transmascs included. i'm still veryyy critical of how many handle trans issues. i reblog as much material as i can for my book, which very often includes not-so-kind terms/phrasing, but i do try to use language as respectful as i can in my own posts so i can have actual conversations with trans folks and trans activists, including saying amab/afab and agab instead of male/female.

i do believe that transfem people face unique oppression on the complicated axis of what ppl call transmisogyny. which imo is mostly a mix of sexism and homophobia if someone knows that person's sex/agab, mixed with conditional misogyny if they pass and live their life as afab. if they're outed as amab, they're seen as a gnc man again and with all the violent sexism that comes with that. it's a very complex form of oppression. i know they go through a lot of unique trauma, i'm not denying it.

but i also believe that afab people are uniquely oppressed as well.

if not, then what do you call this if not unique oppression? forced impregnation, abortion/pregnancy issues, period tax, lack of menstruation/uterus research & resources, afab bodies being under-represented in medicine which causes horrific things to happen, afab babies being aborted or killed at birth for being born with a vagina (afab) bc they're seen as lesser, afab upbringing coming with very unique experiences that amab ppl for better or worse will never understand (it is NOT a fucking privilege fuck you), being born with a body type that is very obviously vulnerable against people with penises sexually due to people with bio dicks feeling genital pleasure when they stick it in something, and god knows they will not give a shit about the person below them (look at fucking nature documentaries!!!). they will take off the condom. they will pressure ppl to do anal or give painful blowjobs. they will be creeps or jerks about pregnancy. they will generally put penises above vaginas and amab rights over afab rights, and this shit is DEEPLY ingrained in society. transfems being able to transition is very new, meaning that although they had many struggles before, they were not treated as female and had that (perhaps painful) privilege for MOST of human history. this meant being allowed to open a bank, go places without a husband, not being forced to be impregnated like cattle, not being forced to be a mother stuck in a kitchen, and having SOOO much more generational wealth at their disposal. afab ppl reading abt historical afab oppression is upsetting in a way that transfems will never fully be able to relate to. afab people have a deep, rich, unique culture and faced trauma for thousands of years and us being afab is not a privilege!! we have the privilege of not understanding transfem issues, sure, like a woman not being a lesbian won't face lesbophobia. but then again male-attracted women face violence from men in a unique way!! it's complex af when you're already marginalized

most ppl have an agab-based sexuality too, cis men included, meaning afab ppl are the ONLY *INTENDED* target of cis men's lust and sexual violence and whatever misogynistic bs they say about women, since most cis men are heterosexual. amab ppl face it, and it fucking sucks for them too, but they also only face it conditionally - the very second the cis guy realizes the person is amab, the usual trope is them throwing up thinking back on how they kissed and wanting to punch the "crossdressing pervert" EVEN if the transfem had every surgery possible and looked totally afab. they lose attraction, usually anyway, and physical violence linked to homophobia and gncphobia is the danger transfems then risk. which ofc is absolutely horrible, it can be life-ruining. but not an afabmisogyny experience. they aren't unconditionally sexualized. they are mistaken for afab due to all the surgeries and hormones they took. it's misdirected afabmisogyny due to ppl assuming they were born with a vagina and went thru afab puberty. and then harming them bc they see afab ppl as sex objects and dumb bitches, they see us being born and raised afab as a weakness. they hate us and want us for our sex/agab. most misogyny is about specifically afab people! and yes transmisogyny sucks, it should be called out too for sure. but when fem transmascs pass as transfem post-transition they always are open about experiencing misdirected transmisogyny and talking abt transfem rights etc etc. why can't transfems do the same with cis women and transmascs?? why can't they talk abt how transmisogyny & misogyny against cis women are both bad in different ways? it's always them being victims vs those evil privileged bitches!!

and not just quickly mention it but ACTUALLY speak up about it, uplift afab voices, and be genuinely good afab allies? where are the posts from transfems calling out transfems' afabmisogyny? why can't transmascs or cis women write posts abt it without being met by death threats and terf accusations? i know you think you can only further transandrophobia discussions by tiptoing around the existence of afab-exclusive misogyny. i know talking abt transmasc-unique issues already leads to insane amounts of bullying from afab & transfem folks. but i'm tired of transfems getting away with shitty behavior. i'm tired of cis women being only seen as oppressors against transfems. something needs to change. i truly believe that radfeminism isn't a lost cause, and in fact there are more and more transmasc radfems, and even transfems who are strong radfem allies. people are finally waking up to the realities of afab oppression!! they're finally embracing nuance!

misogynistic behavior from transfems gets brushed under the rug and them being amab is seen as completely irrelevant, anyone bringing it up is a bigot, while afab folks are more than open to their agab being a factor in conflict... it's unfair. as you've shown, transfems and the ppl speaking for them refuse to have nuanced talks abt afab oppression, they view it as "omg we're all oppressed!! shut the fuck up theyfab go bootlick those privileged cis cunts! no one wants to hear about your issues for longer than a minute, only listen to MINE!! being afab is a PRIVILEGE i didn't get to grow up afab stop rubbing it in my face!!!" what sucks is that transfems and transfem allies used to be soooo much more respectful of cis women and transmasc people's rights too. literally NO ONE used to say that being afab genuinely meant you got benefits in society. no one. like holy fucking shit. the past 20 years has been a fever dream!!!

i'm 100% for transfems living their best lives, transition included, and i've heard many horror stories of transfem-specific experiences i'll never truly understand. but it's not a strict oppressor/oppressed dynamic all the time. just because you're not oppressed on every axis of oppression ever doesn't mean you have no struggles. it's fucking insane that i keep needing to explain that to people, like oh my god do y'all not understand that someone can be both privileged and disprivileged in society in different ways, and might need to both have their voices boosted sometimes and ALSO need to take a back seat other times??? this ain't us cis radfems OR transandrophobia activists just playing oppression olympics. this is an oppressed group talking abt their unique struggles and being mocked to hell and back. and it's sad that it's seen as catty and selfish and bitchy. but as an afab woman i'm not surprised lmao.

and yeah you might speak on transmasc issues, but do you speak on afab rights? do you call out misogynistic bullshit that transfems say about cis women too? do you speak on cis women's oppression as well, about how they're oppressed by amab people too and are oppressed in a different way than transmasc or transfem folks, for being afab and ALSO identifying as women? do you mention how afab people are a uniquely oppressed class of people, or are you too scared of stepping on transfem toes bc they're seen as the top of the oppression pyramid and will harass you off the site?? why is saying that amab people as a class have privilege over afab folks on an oppression axis controversial? what about that feels like an attack?

if you're transfem or otherwise are amab and live perceived as afab, and you aren't afraid to recognize that afab oppression is its own thing and deserves its own voice and its own movement, ily bestie. i see you. i see more and more of you lately and it warms my heart. we aren't enemies, we can learn from eachother. thank you for working thru that initial knee-jerk reaction and learning to be a good ally to afab folks. i wish you the best <3 and if you're transmasc you DESERVE to have your voice heard too. you deserve to speak on afab rights and for transfems to want to be good allies to you too!! ALL afab people have unique voices that need to be heard for once!

#asks #this was long af sorry i went off lol #i understand your pov anon bc i had it even just a few years ago i was overprotective of transfems #i acted like afab ppl had talked enough and should stfu like they were the lowest bar of oppressed in society #that transfems had it worse by default and any talk of afab rights would make them dysphoric esp if transfems weren't centered #but EVEN THEN even when transfems are mentioned in afab-specific issues they STILL get mad #it isn't an amab/afab oppression olympics thing #and it's so childish of you to draw that conclusion #but it makes sense bc it's the current sentiment in trans spaces. any talk of afab-only issues makes ppl uncomfortable #any talk of transfems not only being the oppressed but also the oppressor class on a different axis makes ppl foam at the mouth #meanwhile afab ppl in general are more than happy to recognize they're privileged on another axis of oppression generally #why is that? #i'm tempted to say amab upbringing (and afab upbringing making ppl want to shield others at all costs esp amab ppl) #but i know now that i said it ppl will be even MORE pissed off #idk. i'm so glad i started recognizing my own afab oppression as mattering too. that thing where women are seen as talking so much more #than men even though if they talked the same amount? yeah. that still impacts things like this lol. identity doesn't change that #idk. respect one another and give equal space to all marginalized folks. simple easy and free!! and yet!!! #lay text #my words #radblr

[front-facing-pokemon]

#angle under the cut where you can see their eyes because it is NOT very flattering from the front #sharpedo #this is the fucker that zooms after you like a missile in the swsh DLC‚ right? i think it also does that in sv. it's scary honestly #it's so fast. and it makes that big ol' zoomin' effect like the third nozzle in super mario sunshine. i don't remember what it's called but #it's the gray one. super mario sunshine is my favorite mario game which i feel like is not a very popular opinion #but it tracks because i had a gamecube as a kid. so games on that tend to be some of my favorites because nostalgia i guess #luigi's mansion‚ super mario sunshine‚ pokémon colosseum… #i could go on and on about these games. honestly. luigi's mansion is one of my favorites of all time. i still think it's great even as an #adult. it's much better than the other luigi's mansions in my opinion‚ though i guess my opinion Might be clouded by nostalgia #although i would like to think i can look back on it with a critical eye. i still replay it basically once a year cuz it's super short #i think it's super atmospheric and the later two luigi's mansion games don't really capture that same aesthetic #of… what basically amounts to like. a horror aesthetic. which is weird to say because it's a kids' game but #y'know i'm also not putting my whole brain into these tags right now bc i'm distracted but i hope i am making sense #fellow luigi's mansion fans know what i'm talking about. this is not about sharpedo so here is sharpedo #i believe this'll be posting on the last day of my outing when i'll be flying back home. so. finger's crossed #nope i just queued it and it's the day before i'm flying home. either way‚ good luck‚ future me

[maddy-ferguson]

season 4 is not a good season to be a steve fan it actually made me like him less

#and okay you'll think i'm lying but i've said this before i'm known as a steve fan like i don't even need to put myself in the shoes of #steve fans i'm talking from personal experience. i mean yeah i said it made me like him less that's about me but just. more context #like yeah he's there a lot that's great but what he's doing on screen...like nancy's character is not the one that's suffering from the #stncy comeback. because she's not the one who likes the other again obviously but omg i was so annoyed the first time i watched it and i #was annoyed with steve #like i can see why they'd do that but it's also like they don't even care about steve that much😭 substantial screentime =/= good screentime #but this actually applies to like the show as a whole the show is not a good show to be a steve fan the way people in fandoms are fans of #characters. which is why i loved him more when i didn't care about him in a fandom way. okay that doesn't make sense. i don't care about #him in a fandom way which is why he isn't that high on my list of favorite characters like two years ago he was higher but i still like #him the same amount. technically. or a little less because season 4 made me. but my point was comparatively i like him less even though i #enjoy him like i've always enjoyed him #does that make sense #and like i say: brf slt

[baek1nho]

me watching 2 movies in the same week: who am I?

#i am so bad at watching movies even though i can watch the same amount of dramas in the same sitting #anyway i finally watched the sood movie after over a year too!

[hella1975]

idk how irl celebrities handle fame at a young age like at seventeen i had a couple hundred people regularly interacting with me and putting me on a pedestal and that almost made me crazy. i see new writers getting attention in fandom and i immediately have to put myself in front of them and start barking. get behind me girl

#I FEEL LIKE THIS SHOULD BE TALKED ABOUT MORE LMAO LIKE EVEN THOUGH IT'S A VERY SMALL AMOUNT OF ATTENTION #COMPARED TO LIKE. ACTUAL CELEBRITY #IT'S STILL INSANE LIKE FOR THE PAST THREE YEARS IVE HAD RECURRING INSTANCES OF PEOPLE BEING WEIRD #AND PUSHING BOUNDARIES AND GENERALLY FORGETTING IM AN ACTUAL REAL LIFE PERSON #AND EVEN A LOT OF THOSE WHO AREN'T - ACCIDENTALLY OR INTENTIONALLY - NEGATIVE ABOUT IT #STILL VERY CASUALLY TALK ABOUT ME LIKE IM SOME SUPERIOR FORCE #LIKE IM JUST A GUY ACTUALLY #AND EVEN THOUGH IM ONLY TWENTY I CAN HANDLE IT A LOTTTTTTT BETTER #BUT SOMEONE NEEDS TO DO A STUDY ON THIS SHIT FOR YOUNGER PEOPLE #BC AT SEVENTEEN I REALLY REALLY CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW BAD THAT SHIT WAS FOR ME LMAO #and now i just go crazy overprotective of newer/more unsure writers/artists in fandom #if ur reading this and ive done this to you then my bad <3 #like if we're in the same circle and you get a mean ask/comment/experience then it's truly a matter of time before i descend from the sky #sorry <3 it will happen again <3 #someone ive interacted with maybe one time: i got a mean ask- #me immediately seeing red: do you want me to kill them for you #nothing triggered this post btw it's just something that's on my mind a lot #i feel like a war veteran and im literally a student. ive been in the trenches besties. i have suffered more than jesus i think