#i definitely still had nightmares but i feel like they were nothing compared to what i usually get?

[piplupod]

a win for me: putting on jerma all night while i sleep gave me the most solid (still pretty restless though) sleep I've had in a long while !!!

i just had my phone quietly playing 8 hours of him playing the new katamari game while my phone screen off (using NewPipe, not youtube premium lmao)

#i woke up a few times but that's normal and there were a couple times where i got a little confused as to who was talking #but then remembered oh right that's just jerma #and went back to sleep #i definitely still had nightmares but i feel like they were nothing compared to what i usually get? #jerma is the answer to my sleep issues maybe.... #this is so fucking funny and so so strange like djdkdl this feels creepy of me almost #but like... im just doing what i can to get any amount of sleep dbdjdkdl #pippen needs 2nd breakfast

[enwoso]

HATE IT HERE — alessia russo

just a little blurb:) tiny bit based on tooney’s hate for the tube on her youtube videos

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"do we have to?" you groaned loudly at your girlfriends request.

you were up from manchester visiting the blonde and so you were in london for a few days meaning you could finally have some time together. you weren't a lover of london though, yeah it was pretty and had a few good photo spots but nothing compared to your manchester roots.

you were forever a manny girl. it ran through your veins.

but if it meant you could spend time with your beloved girlfriend then you suppose london's not that bad.

"you can't have the full london experience without it!" alessia argued, you had spent the past few minutes trying to convince the blonde that it would be quicker for her to drive then for you both to get the dreaded london tube but her quickly shutting you down and telling you that defeats the point of going for a walk if she just drives there.

"but we can" you mumbled as you tied the laces on your shoes ready to leave the blondes apartment knowing soon you were about to be living something you see in your nightmares.

taking your hand in hers the blonde kissing your lips quickly giggling at your grumpiness as the door clicked behind the both of you.

walking the short walk to the tube station which was not far from alessia apartment, the walk continuing down the few stairs into the underground and your mood had already worsened.

the heat hitting you making you feel like your about the melt away and it definitely not helping the matter that you were dressed in a thick warm winter coat as a result of it raining in london.

"do you know what your doing?" alessia asked as you got closer to the ticket barrier. "yeah i know what to do, get my card out and scan it" you gave the blonde a quick smile before turning back to your frown which told a million's words that you didn't like the tube.

shock spreading across alessia's face at your response of knowing what to do considering the last time you were in london you got stuck at the barrier after scanning your card to many times on the wrong part, "my little londoner" she teased, pouting cutely at you as you reached the barrier.

"don't push it" you side eyed her meeting back up with her to hold your hand in hers as you ventured deeper into the underground.

"it's so hot" you complained for the millionth time in the past hour as the two of you got onto the escalator down further into the underground, resting your head on the blondes chest as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“twenty minutes and we’ll be there- stop your whining” alessia smiled softly as you clicked your tongue. alessia kissing your cheek quickly as she interlocked your hands back with hers as the two of you walked along the station.

people rushing and pushing with suitcases and bags along the station was another reason to add why you didn’t like london, why was everyone in such a rush for all the time?

the tube rushing along the track similar to the people on the station floor, blowing your flyways across your eye line as well as blowing alessia’s blonde hair across her face. moving your hair quickly to see as the doors opened with a beep, as the two of you got on finding a seat quite quickly to your surprise.

“how many stops?” you asked looking to your girlfriend, who looked up from her phone to the train line counting in her head the amount of stops.

“only seven” she hummed as a small groan came from you as you rested on her shoulder, watching as she scrolled through her phone.

“i hate london.” you whispered, still loud enough that it could be heard as a small gasp came from alessia as she looked down to your face which still had the same grumpy frown since you had left the blondes apartment.

“you don’t moan on like this when we are in manchester” alessia pointed out putting her phone into her pocket as you began to play with her rings on her fingers.

“that’s because it’s manchester, and i’m not sat on a boilin’ hot tube when i’m in manchester!” you huffed, alessia dismissing your comment, instead tapping your leg as a signal to get up as it was your stop.

the doors opening with another beep, you stepping off the tube before the blonde, beginning to run as your feet touched the platform. alessia laughing at your childish antics, "come on lessi, we need to start runnin'" you smiled stopping your short jog to allow the blonde to catch up.

"go on then" she laughed as you began to run again getting a few stares from onlookers but you didn't mind.

finally after what felt like years on an escalator you finally reached the ticketing area only having the ticket barrier separating you from actually daylight and fresh air.

"ah fresh air" you breathed in heavily as the blonde rolled her eyes at you. "your so dramatic it wasn't even that bad" she responded as you turned you head giving her a pointed look mumbling how it was the worst twenty minutes of your life.

"and for the record we are not getting back on the tube home!”

liked by bethmead and 834,611 others

yourusername best thing about london is the fit tour guide i got😉 @alessia

comments —

alessia i’m sure there is other things?

1h         209 likes reply

-> yourusername suppose my girlfriend too when she doesn’t make me get on the tube☺️

leahwilliamson and arsenal!

24m         140 likes reply

-> yourusername mmhm🤨

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #woso community #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #arsenal women #awfc #arsenal wfc #awfc imagine #awfc x reader #lionesses #england wnt #england women #enwoso

[bones-aa]

Yan!MIGUEL O'HARA (Platonic) pt 2

warnings; Yandere themes, Platonic fatherly love (not really).

genuinely, I never thought that the previous post would garner that much attention but here we are, hi yall :) this is the very anticipated (not really) second part to the first miguel post i made. the hype for atsv has gone but my love for daddy (platonically) miguel will never leave 😔 anyways hope u enjoy it pookies <3

The dull throbbing pain in your shoulder was a reminder of what happened to you. Something that you would have never imagine, in your worst nightmares would happen to you.

Getting kidnapped? A hero? It was unheard of. As a spider person, your strength should've been unparraleled, it should have saved you.

But no. To him, Miguel, your strength was nothing compared to his. So you were here, trapped in a room that was unmarked. You had looked around and it was unrecognisable. The room was scarce, plain only the white walls to comfort you.

You tried to sit up, tried being the key word here. The paralysis barely wore off making it hard to do anything but just lie there and sit in the reality of your situation. You were kidnapped. By your delusional boss who thinks that you need his saving. His protection.

But you definitely fucking didn't. It was offensive that he would suggest that in the first place.

The doors that were across the room opened up, a low hiss signalling the entrance of your kidnapper. There stood Miguel, the man who paralysed and kidnapped you walked towards you. You couldn't move, you needed to get as far away from him as possible.

You watched as he moved to caress your face, wiping the stray tear that escaped your face as the man stared at you with the disgustingly longing look in his eyes.

"Don't cry mi hija, you'll feel better the venom will wear off, hm? I'll be here." That's exactly what you didn't want, it was impossible to hold off the tears but you didn't want to be vulnerable in front of this monster. The reality of the situation begs your reaction, this man who claimed to wanted to protect you hurt you. How else could you react?

The tears fell. You couldn't even look away, you were stuck in this state where the hands of your kidnapper continued to stay by you, giving you hushed whispers of comfort. It was disgusting.

After awhile of his creepy comforting, his watch buzzed with a message. He lifted his arm in annoyance and checked the message. He groaned and you assumed it was a mission, he looked back at you. He didn't want to go.

Miguel was broken, he is a broken man. He lost his daughter and with that his ability to care left as well. His patience often ran thin, snapping at people for messing up even the smallest things. But with you it was different. Maybe it was your carefree yet generous personality that made him snap, the way you were so willing to help others even before you had gotten bitten by the spider.

You were truly someone that was deserving of the mantle, the title of spider person. He saw you as someone to protect, he couldn't let you be hurt like he did. He couldn't let you slip into the darkness that he lived in. He had to save you.

"...Although I don't want to leave, I have a job to do." He starts, his attention entirely on you like it has been for the past hour. "The paralysis should be gone by the time I come back, I trust you to not act out."

His stern tone was a stark contrast to his gentle one earlier. You couldn't nod or do anything, but instead just stare ahead. He sighed and leaned down giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. It was all so fucking disgusting.

--

The paralysis. You had laid there for a full hour and Miguel didn't come back, but the paralysis. It was gone. You wiggled your toes and slowly started to be able to move the rest of your limbs.

You propped yourself up on your elbows as you started to get up. You let out a small groan as you did, your body still ached but you couldn't mull over your pain. You had to get out of there, now.

You held the wall as you started to take shaky steps towards the door, it had no doorknobs. Nothing. You regained your feeling back, it meant that you regained your strength back as well. You decied to test it out.

Thump.

Your fist collided with the cool metal door. No dent, nothing. You shook your hand, the pain sent shocks up your arm. You shook your wrist and pursed your lips as you try again. You slam your fist into the metal door again. Again. Again.

Your fists started bleeding but the door didn't budge. The door slid open and Miguel stood there, you stared at him with your fists bleeding. His eyes widened and he quickly moved to hold you.

You sobbed into his shoulders as he cradled you closer into him. He tries to comfort you but all you can do is cry. Your fists hurt, but thats not what you were crying about.

“Cariño, why did you-“

He stayed quiet as he let you down, he watched as you rubbed your eyes trying to get breaths in. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, what sick fantasy you have in your head, but I don’t want any fucking part.” Your voice soft but every word dripped with hatred.

Miguel shook his head as he sat next to you.

“You will learn, you’re just shocked hm? I know you need this as much as me.” You watched in disgust as he held your hands with a painful gentleness, he looked as if it were his fists that were bleeding. As if your pain was his.

“I don’t!” You moved your hands away from his. “I don’t need this.”

“Your family has abandoned you, have they not? You have nobody.” It was like a slap in the face, but they did. After finding out who you were they treated you like a monster.

“I will be your new family, Y/n, no one else.”

Here’s the second part doneee, im not sure its good but hey at least its made right LMAO

Sorry for disappearing consider this another apology gift !!

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #tw yandere #yandere platonic miguel ohara #platonic yandere marvel

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Betrayal part 2:

Synopsis: Sam and Dean are at odds after what happened, and Sam tried to make up for his mistakes

Author’s note: not my best work, but I wanted to wrap up the fic a little more, so enjoy!

Sam had never wanted to share a bed so badly in his life. In all the years that he and Dean had been responsible for you, it was always a good day when he got a motel bed to himself. He and Dean would trade on and off with who had to share a bed with you, and who got a bed to himself.

But now, it had been two weeks since the demon blood incident. Fourteen nights, and each and every one of them you slept in Dean’s bed, even after Sam had completely detoxed from demon blood.

Sam was beginning to wonder if it was you choosing this, too scared to be that close to Sam without Dean in between you, or if it was Dean, too angry at Sam to trust him near you.

Either way, each night was just a reminder of how completely and utterly he had screwed up. He couldn’t decide what was worse; his own guilt eating away at him, the way you seemed to gravitate towards Dean whenever Sam got too close, like you were looking for protection, or the way that Dean refused to let you anywhere alone with Sam. And Dean was barely speaking to him, which was also pretty bad. Dean wasn’t one to hold grudges, at least not against family. But this was different. If Sam had failed you somehow, that would’ve been one thing. But this was so much worse. Failing you as a big brother would’ve been letting you get hurt somehow. But what he did…

He didn’t let you get hurt. He hurt you.

That wasn’t something he was ever going to forgive himself for. But a little part of him was still holding out hope that Dean could forgive him. He wasn’t worried about you forgiving him, he was pretty sure you already had, which almost made him feel worse. The idea that you could forgive him so quickly, before you’d even stopped having nightmares about what he’d done to you, just made him feel even more like a monster for hurting you.

Dean, however, wasn’t about to let this slide. There was nothing Sam could do except try his best to make up for what he’d done, although he had no idea how.

“Hey, we gotta case,” Sam snapped out of his thoughts just in time to catch John’s journal that Dean had thrown at him.

“What is it?”

Dean shrugged into a jacket, “Not sure. Three mysterious deaths, only about an hour away. I’m gonna go talk to the families, you do some research.”

Sam noticed you putting your coat on and frowned.

“And she’s going with you?”

Dean turned, “Yeah, and?”

Sam scoffed.

“Well she’s a little young to pass for an agent.”

“So she’ll wait in the car.”

Sam glanced at you. You didn’t seem ready to jump into the conversation, so he kept going.

“Or she could stay here. Work on homework, help me with research. It’d be easier for everyone.”

Dean placed a hand on your back, leading you out the door.

“Nah, she’s fine. Have fun.”

The door slammed shut before Sam could protest.

…

Sam was ready and waiting with everyone’s favorite fast food order when you and Dean returned to the motel.

Dean gave him a gruff nod, but Sam grinned when you smiled at him. Any little thing that showed him you were coming around was basically Christmas morning. Well, not his definition of Christmas morning, but a normal person’s.

Sam and Dean compared notes on the case while you sat on one of the beds watching tv. By the time the boys were done, Sam looked over to see you fast asleep.

Dean stood, heading for the bed, but Sam grabbed his arm.

“You should get your own bed,” he insisted. “You need a good night’s rest, you did all the leg work today.”

Dean shrugged his hand off.

“I’m fine.”

Sam scoffed, “It’s more than that, Dean. You can trust me with her.”

Dean gritted his teeth.

“I would’ve thought so too, two weeks ago.”

“Dean, I’ve apologized for that a thousand different times, an-and I’m trying to make up for it! Let me do that.”

Dean stepped away from Sam and sat next to your sleeping form on the bed.

“No, Sam. You do what you think you should, try to make amends if it’ll make you feel better. But that won’t include asking me to trust you. Not after this, not until I say so. You don’t get to make that call.”

Sam dragged his hand over his face, dropping his head so he wouldn’t have to look Dean in the eye.

“Alright, yeah. Your call.”

…

Sam awoke to the jarring feeling of someone shaking his shoulder. He bolted up to a sitting position, eyes scanning for some kind of danger. Instead, he vaguely made out your figure in the darkness, standing beside his bed. He remained alert, unsure of why you would’ve come to him.

If you were in danger, surely you would’ve just woken Dean, who wasn’t even six inches away from you. The soft sound of your crying made him feel both relieved and hurt. If there was a danger, you’d be yelling, not crying, but he’d really prefer neither to be happening.

“Baby, what is it?” Sam kept his voice quiet, not wanting to wake Dean.

“The demons…the demons got you,” you were trying to whisper, but the lump in your throat made it hard to get the words out quietly. “And-and you wouldn’t wake up, and I-I thought…” you broke off, your whole body shaking as you tried to breathe through your sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Sam pulled you into his arms, letting you climb up on the bed with him. “It was a dream, you were dreaming, honey. I’m ok, I’m just fine.”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Sam felt you fisting his shirt in your hands, pulling him as close as possible.

“It’s ok, I’m awake. I’m sorry, N/N, I must’ve been sleeping pretty deeply.” Deep sleep was a pretty rare occurrence for him, and he was annoyed that now was the time for it to happen. How long had you been trying to wake him up, afraid that he was dead?

“It felt so real,” your tears had stopped, but you still clung to Sam with all your strength. He held you as though you were made of glass, too afraid to hold you tightly. Perhaps he was too used to being treated as dangerous.

“I know it did, I know,” Sam rested his chin on top of your head. “But it wasn’t. I’m ok. You should go back to sleep.”

You shifted in his arms, turning your head up to look at him.

“Can I stay here?”

If you weren’t so distressed, he would’ve grinned.

“Of course you can.”

He tried to lay back on the bed, and his stomach twisted when he noticed that you wouldn’t let go of him, not even for a second. He didn’t pull you away, instead he held you tighter and struggled a bit to lay down with you still in his arms. He didn’t want to scare you anymore than you already were, so if that meant letting you Velcro yourself to him, that was alright by him.

Once he was settled back on his pillows, he felt you shift so that your head was resting in the middle of his chest. He felt your whole body instantly relax, and he knew you must be listening to his heartbeat. He kept his arms around you, almost as comforted by your presence as you were by his.

To think that you were ok with being this vulnerable around him, even if it was because of your nightmare, made him think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok again.

…

Dean awoke with the sense that something was off, and it took him a moment to realize what. He was alone in the bed.

He forced himself to remain calm as he scanned the hotel room. Surely you were around here somewhere.

His brief look around gained him nothing, so he quickly stepped out of bed and did a thorough sweep of the room. Nothing; even the bathroom was empty. He was about to head out to see if you’d gone outside to stretch your legs, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

A flash of Y/H/C nestled under Sam’s chin, the lump under the blanket too big to be just him. When Dean stepped closer, he saw your face, leaning against Sam’s chest, the two of you breathing softly, almost in sync.

At first he was taken aback, then confused, then torn. He still didn’t trust Sam, he couldn’t, not after what he’d done to you. Dean was determined to keep you at arm’s length from Sam, and he was even more determined to keep you close to himself. He hadn’t been watching you closely enough, and that was why Sam was able to hurt you in the first place. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

But at the same time, there was only so much he could do if you were this determined to forgive Sam. If you were this ready to just hop into Sam’s bed and fall asleep next to him, without Dean’s protection between you and Sam, how was Dean supposed to protect you?

He didn’t have long to ponder his dilemma, however, because just then Sam started to stir, and you let out a soft whine when he sat up, dislodging you from your comfortable place using him as a pillow.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, turning his head to look at Dean. “Hey. We got any new leads?”

Dean just shook his head, his eyes still trained on you as you sat up groggily, rubbing your face.

Sam followed Dean’s line of sight before turning back to his brother, shrugging and mouthing, ‘nightmare’.

Dean resisted the urge to grit his teeth. A nightmare? He should’ve expected that would be the reason, but lately your nightmares had been about Sam hurting you. So why had you gone to him?

“Can we get breakfast? I’m starving,” you mumbled, slipping off the bed and walking up to Dean. Dean couldn’t help the way his body relaxed when you were close to him, close enough so he could protect you if he had to. He was really starting to hate this part of him; somewhere, deep inside, he knew that Sammy wouldn’t hurt you, but Dean’s protective nature wouldn’t let him let go of the image in his head, the image of your blood running down Sam’s chin, seeing you cry out to your big brother to help you, only for him to hurt you.

He wanted to trust Sam again, he really did. But that image was seared into his brain, and as long as it remained there, so did Dean’s instinct to jump between you and Sam any chance he got.

“Dean?” Dean blinked as your hand waved in front of his face. “You ok?”

Dean cleared his throat, a light smile coming to his face.

“Yeah, I’m good. Look, we got some work to do here, so why don’t you grab us some stuff from the vending machine for breakfast, alright?”

Dean handed you a few dollars, and you shrugged and left to find some food.

“When did she…” Dean barely waited for the motel room door to close before he turned to Sam.

“I don’t know, middle of the night sometime. Look, I know you don’t want me near her, but she was really freaked. I wasn’t about to push her away.”

Dean shook his head, “No, and I wouldn’t want you to.”

“Ok,” Sam sighed. “So what do you want?”

“I don’t know. I know I want her to be safe.”

“She is,” Sam’s voice was resolute. “She’s safe with me, I promise. Look, I know how bad I screwed up. I know I hurt her. I would do anything, anything, to undo that, but I can’t. And I know you’re never going to forget this, and that’s fine, because neither am I. I can live with that. But what I can’t live with, is you keeping her away from me. I need to show her, and you, that I’m sorry. And that this is never gonna happen again. So, do what you have to do, hate me, keep me in the doghouse forever, but just…just don’t keep her away from me.”

“I wasn’t trying to take her away from you,” Dean stood, checking out the window to make sure you weren’t coming back yet. “I just needed…” Dean dropped his gaze from Sam’s penetrating stare. “I need to keep her close, Sam. You think you’re the only one who screwed up here? You were in detox, and I didn’t watch her close enough.”

“Dean, it’s not your-“

“Yes, yes it is my fault,” Dean interrupted Sam before he could finish the thought. “You were unhinged, and unpredictable, and I didn’t keep her close enough. And she got hurt. I can’t let that happen again, she won’t get hurt on my watch, never again.”

Sam nodded, “Ok. I mean, I don’t agree with you but I get what you mean. So what, you just can’t let her be alone with me, ever? Because you think that-“

“No!” Dean cleared his throat, trying to calm himself before he spoke again. “No. I’m just saying…I’m not trying to shun you from her life. Just know that…and if I start to get a bit overprotective, or if I don’t let you near her sometimes…I just wanted you to know that it’s not all you. It’s not just you that I don’t trust, it’s me.”

Sam gave Dean a melancholy smile.

“Ok then. I get it.”

Dean nodded.

“Ok. So…I’ll try to give you a little more room with her, but you gotta let me be protective sometimes.”

Sam’s smile turned real.

“Deal. Hey, I understand protecting her. I’m her big brother too.”

Dean returned the smile, “I suppose you are.”

The door to the motel room opened, and you entered with an armload of snacks.

“Sorry it took so long, the close one was busted to I had to walk all the way around.”

Dean ruffled your hair and snatched up a bag of pretzels.

“Thanks, squirt.”

You looked between the two brothers, and they knew that you were sensing the difference in atmosphere already.

“You guys good?”

Sam smiled at you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, reaching over you to grab his own snack. He was happy to see that Dean didn’t tense in the slightest.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re just fine.”

#dean winchester #sam winchester #the winchesters #winchesters x reader #winchester #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #the winchester brothers #winchesters x sister #Dean x sister #sam x sister!reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x reader #dean and sam #supernatural sam #sam and dean #dean x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x you

[antiodote]

she can't finish and they fight - part III

warnings: drug/alcohol abuse, mention of purging, slight mentions of sexual activity (but not really)

"fuck you, harry."

part I & II

+++

she had slept in her car that night.

more specifically, she had parked in her gym’s parking lot and fell asleep in her car. her idea? get to the gym at 6 in the morning, run for an hour straight at an ungodly speed that might make her sick, shower and scrub her body so thoroughly that it hurt, get ready in the bathroom of said gym and arrive at work bright and early as if nothing ever happened. she even thought about getting some iced coffee on the way. you know, as a treat.

she also felt numb. so, so numb.

after she had left home - no, harry’s place - she wondered if all of it was a nightmare. some sort of hallucination that manifested itself into her brain after 6 weeks of straight malnourishment and sleep deprivation. never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that he would ever speak to her in that way or do something like that to her; question her trust like that. she asked herself if she even knew who he was or if the last four years had been a lie, but somewhere between taking an impossibly hot shower and slapping tons of concealer under her eyes in an attempt to cover her dark circles, she had decided to not think about it for as long as she possibly could. she just wouldn’t think about it, wouldn’t talk to anyone about it and she definitely, definitely, definitely wasn’t going to face him anytime soon.

and so, she arrived at work at 8:54 am, ready to get some work done and pretend that everything was as it should be. fortunately for her, it seemed to work out - for most of the day, that is.

she had greeted some co-workers, wrote down a list of to-do’s for the day, checked off those to-do’s one by one, had some coffee, ate some lettuce wraps for lunch and threw up said lettuce wraps, returned to drinking coffee and nothing but. with a few meetings here and there, some office gossip and a pile of work later, her work day was finished. she found herself wishing that she could be stuck in that loop for the rest of her life - or at least for another few hours - so she could escape the reality of things for just a tiny bit longer. things don’t seem to go to plan for her lately.

“you’re leaving early? is it christmas already?”

she turned around to find tony, one of her coworkers, looking at her with an expression that indicated humour. she wasn’t really up for humour right now, but she also didn’t want to seem any more off than she probably already did. so, she forced a chuckle and answered.

“well, technically, I’m not leaving early. I just finished my work on time and don’t really feel like staying longer today, honestly.”

“so compared to your usual hours, you’re still leaving early.”

she looked at him with a frozen smile that didn’t reach her eyes. she hated when people - no, men - repeated her exact words back to her as if she were stupid. she hated it with a passion. harry never spoke to her like that. she should tell him all about it once she gets home, she thought. 

as she realised that she couldn’t do that, she quickly turned away from tony to resume packing her bag.

“I suppose you’re right, tony. what can I do for you?”

he hoped her tone indicated her lack of interest in their conversation. she truly desired nothing more than to get out of this office and figure out her plan for the next few days.

“some of us wanted to get some drinks at this bar down the street. you know, the one that does trivia on wednesday nights? would you like to join us? you can tell your boyfriend to come!”

every single part of those sentences made her feel woozy. the idea of having drinks with her coworkers was absolutely atrocious; she couldn’t physically think of something that she would’ve liked to do less at that moment. however, the mention of him made her suddenly want something to drown out her thoughts with. she usually never resorted to alcohol, but the burn of some heavy liquor in her throat would for sure help her out, at least for now. she needed to feel something. so, without giving it much more thought, she turned around, smiled, and almost robotically replied.

“sure, I’d love to come. thanks for the invite! I’ll ask if he can make it.”

+++

8pm arrived and y/n was piss drunk. 

when they arrived at the bar her coworkers ordered a round of different dishes for the table while she immediately went for the drinks. beer wasn’t her favourite, so vodka would suffice. one drink turned into two, two turned into four and before she realised, she found herself 7 drinks deep into her own abyssal torment. none of her coworkers seemed to notice, either because they lacked interest or she was too good at hiding her intoxication. she barely spoke at the table, anyway. 

“so, y/n! where is that lovely boyfriend of yours? we haven’t seen him since last year’s christmas party. he was fun!” one of her older coworkers, maude, chirped. 

y/n looked up from her drink, slightly disoriented at first. she kept forgetting that the outside world wasn’t aware of how her life crumbled into pieces at her feet. 

act normal. act normal. act normal.

“oh, he’s been pretty busy. you know, with his music and stuff. I’m sorry he couldn’t make it tonight.” she replied. funny how she didn’t even know where he was, right now. 

“oh, that’s a shame. make sure to bring him around again soon! he did a whole coffee run when he visited you last time. even paid for my extra pumps of hazelnut syrup, the ol’ charmer.” maude giggled. y/n forgot how older ladies seemed to adore him. then again, everyone did.

she also did.

in an attempt to seem flattered, she shook her head with a smile on her face. she couldn’t possibly have any of them suspect anything. the last thing she needed was to be the subject of infuriating office chitchat. luckily, she found it quite easy to keep up fake conversation and with that, fake emotion. she truly didn’t care for the people she worked with. a job was a job, nothing more. sure, she loved what she did, but it didn’t change the fact that her job wasn’t her life, or at least, shouldn’t be. she barely cared about her boss, but she did care about the money. a lot. 

for all she cared, she was going to keep up the lie for as long as she had to, and she was fine with that. but maybe, just maybe, it gave her an excuse to pretend that everything was still okay between her and harry. she might as well treat her workplace as an alternate reality; a parallel universe where she could still go home to her lover and had never been kicked out of her own home. a home she helped to build with all the love she possessed in her heart. 

oh, what a waste of love, she thought.

“y/n, are you still with us?” 

“huh? what?”

people laughed. her eyebrows furrowed. she glanced around. she was confused. she felt embarrassed.

“oh, darling, maybe cut back on those drinks you’ve been chugging! I mean, I know you’re a heavyweight and it’s the weekend, but you just totally spaced out on us!“ lena - a younger coworker of hers - said, giggling her way through her remark.

“oh god, sorry. it’s been a long week, you know how it is.” she tried to go along with the joke, while truthfully feeling mortified for letting her guard down. “what were you saying?”

she honestly couldn’t care less. 

“oh, we were just talking about potentially making this a regular thing! you know, to strengthen team morale and all.”

she smiled. there was no way in hell. 

“sure! sounds fun.”

they nodded in agreement, believing her made-up enthusiasm. maybe she should’ve gone to acting school with how believable her act was. or they might just not care about her, just like she doesn’t care about them. they definitely didn’t care enough to ask.

the question was: who did care about her?

her coworkers don’t seem to do so. she’d barely seen any of her friends for a long while now. she hadn’t spoken to her family in what felt like forever. 

she always thought that harry cared.

harry. oh, harry. 

harry. harry. harry.

she suddenly rose up from her seat, pulling everyone’s eyes in her direction.

“I’m gonna use the restroom.”

and gone she was. 

her heart was beating unbelievably fast. she wasn’t feeling good, at all. maybe the alcohol did take a toll on her.

without checking her surroundings, she almost bolted to the restroom. as soon as she entered, she picked one of the empty stalls and found purchase on the sticky floor, almost dramatically sliding down along the closed door. she needed to breathe. her head hung low between her bent knees, her hands clasping around her ears. with her eyes screwed shut and her hearing now impacted, she was now robbed of most of her senses, grounding her somewhat. ‘please, please, please’ was chanted in her head like a mantra; she couldn’t lose her composure like this, anything else was not as important at this moment. 

“everything okay in there? should I get someone?”

her head shot up. fuck.

her breathing must’ve been heavy or maybe the words she repeated weren’t as quiet as she thought. she wasn’t sure who was behind the door, but she wasn’t strong enough to face them.

“uh, I’m okay! thanks for asking.”

silence. 

“y/n? is that you?”

wait, what? she knew that voice.

she got up to open the door and was suddenly faced with a very familiar face.

“jane?”

+++

harry doesn’t remember the last time he felt so hollow. with every moment that passed, he felt more and more like he was drowning. like he was making a terrible, terrible mistake.

the last thing she had said to him before she went to pack a bag was ‘fuck you, harry.’ and truthfully, at first, he was angry. angry at how they argued, angry at her for leaving, angry at himself for not asking her to stay. it was a little later though, right after the door slammed shut behind her that he realised he couldn’t have asked her to stay when he was the one who told her to leave.

and then it dawned on him. he told her to leave. he kicked her out. in the middle of the night. in a city where he himself had been robbed at knifepoint not too long ago. 

the panic kicked in soon after.

so, he called. and called. and called.

but she never answered. 

after the 30th call, her phone went straight to voicemail. that was when harry really started freaking out. 

where did she go? was she safe? what if something happened? harry wouldn’t forgive himself if something were to have happened.

he bit and chewed on his fingers until they bled. he didn’t sleep. his mind and soul were surrounded by an image of her in danger. in pain. hurt.

though, he hurt her that night. 

he was the one who put her in that situation. he hurt her. why the fuck did he do that? why the actual fuck did he do that?

when the panic passed, the self-loathing soon followed. he didn’t understand how things were so quick to turn around when they were more than okay a mere few weeks ago. he treated her like she was disposable and he doesn’t think he will ever forgive himself for it. 

when the hatred for himself outweighed the worry he had for her, he resorted to pills to find slumber that night. the sleep was terrible, but it was better than nothing.

he woke up the next morning, finding himself on his kitchen floor. he must’ve passed out then and there. he checked the clock just above the fridge. the time was 9:15 AM. if she was okay, she must be at work. he could go there to check on her, see if her car was there. but, then again, he felt like he was the last person she wanted around her at this moment. if she was even alive, that is.

his rationality came back to him somewhere after 11 in the morning, just after his shower. she was a strong and capable woman, she was probably fine. she had to be, or he was never going to be fine again.

he went back to the kitchen to fetch himself some water for his run. if there was one thing that helped him, it was running for miles and miles and miles ahead and drowning out his surroundings with music through his headphones. as he opened the fridge he was faced with a bowl that was filled with cubes of fruit. the bowl was shaped like a lemon and had the colour to go with it. he remembers how y/n had picked it out online, gushing over how cute and fitting it is.

‘you always sing about fruit! might as well have a lemon-shaped bowl, if you ask me.’

he remembers how he had chuckled in response, pulled her in for a kiss on her temple, and replied ‘whatever you want, love.’

why do those days feel so far away now? 

he looked all around the kitchen and observed how every nook and cranny of this house had pieces of her littered all over it. the kitchen clock; a soft yellow one with slender, roman numbering on it - she chose it. the light pink cabinets - she painted them. actually, they painted them together and made sweet love on that very floor when they were finished. every piece of decoration - she had collected them whenever they had travelled. he particularly took notice of a framed picture right next to the sink. a moment captured when they made fresh pasta at his mother’s house when they were there for her birthday, two years ago. he remembered the moment so, so vividly.

‘harry, for goodness’ sake! you’re making a mess!’

she was the one who rolled out the dough by hand, since harry had previously dropped the pasta maker on the floor, resulting in its break. feeling a little useless, he wanted to do whatever he could to make her laugh. so, he did what any child would do: poured flour over them. first, her nose. then, her cheeks. shortly after, her head. and when she was sick of him, she grabbed the packet from his grasp and poured every last bit over him. her glimmering eyes looked straight at his playful ones. she bit her lips, in order to deny him the satisfaction of a laugh, and he looked just about ready to burst at the seams. 

in that moment, his sister quietly took a picture, making sure to get it back to them for one of their birthdays. when she was done, she clapped her hands to gain their attention, and suddenly they stood there like deers caught in headlights. 

then, laughter erupted. loud, hearty, full laughter. 

harry had to physically shake his head to lose the memory. when a sudden sickness overcame him, he found himself emptying the contents of his stomach right into said sink. was this kind of behaviour normal after a breakup? he didn’t know.

breakup. breakup. breakup.

the word swam around his vision, making him want to gauge his own eyes out. were they broken up, now? could she ever forgive him? then again, could he forgive her for lying to him? his mind was swarmed with all sorts of questions that he had no way of finding an answer to, at least not anytime soon. 

he needed to go on that run.

so, he did. and ever so conveniently, he ran by her workplace. low and behold, her car was there, unscathed. relief flooded him, but so did dread. because if she was at work, that meant she was fine. which also meant that she didn’t pick up his calls on purpose. she didn’t want to talk to him. 

good. maybe they shouldn’t talk for a while. whatever. 

he ran back home and didn’t leave the house for the remaining day.

+++

jane was y/n’s lifelong friend. they went to high school together and were usually inseparable. however, with both of their schedules being as crazy as they were, they rarely saw each other these days. when jane saw the state of her in that bathroom stall, she paid for her tab and drove her home. y/n didn’t say much in that time, still in a state of sensory overload. it was only when she saw how they were approaching harry’s driveway that she spoke. 

“we can’t go there.” 

jane whipped her head towards the passenger seat. “what do you mean, petal?” 

y/n stared straight ahead. “we can’t go to harry’s place. can I stay with you tonight? I’ll explain everything.”

jane looked at her for a few beats longer, worry etched deep into her features, until she turned her car around and drove to her own apartment. just over 30 minutes later, they arrived.

y/n soon realised how drunk she truly was, especially when the glare of the white lightbulbs in jane’s bathroom made her head throb and her guts churn. she ended up leaning above the toilet bowl in an attempt to empty the contents of her stomach, however, her attempt was in vain; nothing left her stomach. and yet, she felt so empty. 

she wished that she had shouted at harry, maybe even slap him across his annoyingly pretty face. she wished she had done something to stop him from doing what he did. but alas, just like nothing left her now, nothing left her then. she was always so perfectly contained. harry had even told her on multiple occasions that she needed to let loose, even if it was just a little bit. he was good at helping her with that. she always felt so unbothered and carefree in his presence. 

oh, harry. what have you done?

“god, harry. you fucking idiot.” 

the first sob of the night left her. then came the second. the third quickly followed. all of a sudden, she found herself crying in agony over her best friend’s toilet.

“y/n, you okay?? can I come in?” jane called from the other side of the door, but y/n didn’t hear. the echo of her cries within the toilet bowl was too loud for her to be aware of her surroundings. thus, a very worried-looking jane came bursting through the door. as she found y/n in literal shambles across the bathroom floor, she couldn’t help but choke up herself. she’d never seen her like this, and it truly broke her heart.

“hey, hey pretty girl, it’s alright. I’m here, good god, I’m here. let it all out.”

jane ended up cradling y/n, almost like you would calm a crying baby, and y/n didn’t realise how much she truly needed it. however, she still didn’t dare to speak. she feared that, once she recalled the events out loud, they would become reality. she wasn’t ready for that to happen, not yet. maybe not ever, but definitely not now. 

so she cried and cried and cried until there was nothing left to give. jane and her wordlessly went to bed that night, bundled up in blankets to keep out the cold. 

y/n feared she might never feel normal again, if she even knew what that was. she felt like harry completed her, and that scared her to death.

when she woke up the next day, she finally threw up. with the vodka finally out of her system and her stomach basically cleansed, she felt a lot better than she thought she would. the headache was manageable and the nausea came and went. she could survive this.

she didn’t know about the rest of her circumstances, though. 

whenever the thought of him popped into her head, she did whatever she could to distract herself. first thing in the morning? she showered after her journey to the toilet bowl. after the shower? extensive skincare. when she saw her tired expression in the mirror? left the bathroom to borrow some of jane’s clothes. eventually, she had run out of distractions in the bedroom, so she escaped to the kitchen. when she started preparing breakfast and turned up the radio just a touch, she was reminded of him, again. soon enough, she realised that everything reminded her of him, and there was nothing she could do about it. would be too easy, right?

for the first time in a while, she felt vulnerable. raw. like there was no skin over her pain and a gust of wind could make it bleed.

the realisation knocked the air out of her for just a moment, but it was enough for her to turn the stove off and sit down. she felt as if she had just run up the stairs, in fear that somebody was chasing her. she felt out of breath, disoriented and weirded out. maybe she should go to that doctor to talk about her anxiety, harry had always-

“hey, you! making some breakfast? how kind.” jane chimed, bright and chipper, ripping y/n out of her thoughts. she caught her gaze, offering a smile. “oh, I was just up early today. the eggs are probably burnt, though. just a heads up.”

jane nodded and went straight to her bag of toaster waffles and popped one of them into her mouth. a quick turn later, she faced y/n with an apologetic expression. as much as she wanted to grant y/n her bit of privacy, she needed to know what happened. before jane could open her mouth, y/n spoke. she spoke and spoke and spoke, retelling the whole thing, from the moment she felt overwhelmed at work, right up to the point where harry kicked her out. this was the second day she wasn’t at his place, refusing to refer to it as ‘home’, and everything still felt awfully unreal. jane listened and listened until she snapped. 

“hold on, what? you slept in your damn car? why didn’t you call me? y/n, that was so unsafe, dear god!” 

she was pacing up and down her lengthy kitchen, trying to wrap her head around how her best friend’s picture-perfect relationship went to shit without anybody else noticing. 

“I know, jane, I know, but I wasn’t really thinking and I didn’t want to bother anyone. the two of us have barely spoken lately, and-“

“as if that matters! y/n, you’re my best friend, okay? my ride or die. it doesn’t matter if I see you once a week or once a year, I am the person you tell these things to, okay? I’m the person you ask for help!”

y/n didn’t answer, shame clouding her senses. instead, her gaze turned downwards and she started picking her nails.

“you’re staying with me until we figure this out, okay? I don’t want to hear shit.” 

when y/n didn’t answer, jane physically forced her to look at her by nudging her hand under her chin and gently dragging it upwards. “got it, petal?” 

y/n nodded.

“wonderful! oh, and if I see harry, just know I’m gonna beat the shit out of him. lord knows he deserved it-“

“you will not, okay?”

jane looked at y/n as if she had grown a third head. confusedly, she goes: “wait, are you planning to forgive him, or something?”

y/n became frustrated. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet, okay? I just don’t know. I can’t face him for a bit, but I can’t tell you what’ll happen afterwards. please don’t hurt him, I know that you actually would.”

jane listened, processed, and nodded. she didn’t want to cause her any more emotional turmoil. 

“okay, dude. whatever you say. now, let’s plan this sleepover of ours!”

+++

it’d been seven days since harry had last seen her. with every day that had passed, his emotions spiralled.

his first phase: hatred. 

he hated her. he hated her boss, her work, her mindset. he hated all of the things he could blame for their fallout, thus also hating himself. he hated himself so much that he couldn’t bare to look at himself. when he wasn’t excessively punching things in his at-home gym, he got high and broke stuff. he called her and spoke spiteful things onto her voicemail. he cried angry tears and listened to angry, devastating music. 

the music triggered the second phase: sorrow.

he cried and cried and cried, especially to sad coldplay songs or the old records that his stepfather used to collect. the crying made him tired, so he slept a lot during this phase. though, as soon as he woke up, he’d be crying again. 

when the crying stopped, the depression came.

heaviness shaped his form. his feet felt too heavy to lift,  thus his bed became his permanent residence for a bit. his mind was hazy and everything he attempted to do sucked every last bit of energy out of him, resulting in a permanent state of exhaustion. 

his empty bed triggered his longest phase: loneliness.

he missed her. so fucking much.

he missed her smell. her peaceful, sleeping state. he missed how she would always have to collect individual hairs off of their covers because her hair just shed in heaps during her slumber. he missed how she’d look up at him when the first few moments of consciousness kissed her in the morning. he missed how he could lay his head on her soft chest and listen to her steady heartbeat. he missed how she would sometimes lovingly grab him by the jaw and pull him down to kiss his forehead. he missed how she used to make him coffee in the morning and he’d eat her out on the kitchen table to say thank you. he missed her body, every mark and every freckle. he missed her voice and wished he’d recorded it at some point. he missed the way she’d hug him from every angle. he missed how she could talk to him for hours about anything. he missed making love to her.

he missed being able to love her. 

he feared that she was gone now. far, far away from his reach. he had to make peace with it, though. right?

thus he welcomed his current phase: apathy. 

he didn’t care anymore; he wasn’t going to get her back. he’d fucked up too bad, so he resorted to resenting her for her mistakes. the negative emotions that were previously directed towards him only were now evenly distributed amongst her, him, their situation and the world. he didn’t want to talk to anyone, reach out to anyone, or even acknowledge his feelings in any way. as he cleaned up his house from the shards and pieces of the the things he had destroyed, he found a weird sense of serenity in the acceptance of his downfall. all was lost now, what else could go wrong? 

then, his phone rang.

he checked. it was sarah. 

he wasn’t going to pick up, but she’d called him a few times now. he didn’t want to worry her, so he finally picked up.

“hello?”

a sigh of relief left her.

“goodness, harry, where were you? I’ve been trying to reach you for ages! look, some things need to be picked up for the rehearsal dinner on tuesday. could you maybe handle it? I wouldn’t ask you but mitch and I have been super busy with everything else. pleeaasee?”

harry’s brows furrowed. rehearsal dinner?

then, he remembered. the fucking wedding.

mitch and sarah had been officially married for over a year, yet they never had a proper celebration due to obvious restrictions. and honestly, he’d completely forgotten about it within the last few days. a wedding for his best friends, which she was also supposed to attend. how on earth could he make this right?

“oh! and tell y/n to call me back, please! I’ve been meaning to talk to her about the dresses for the bridesmaids, but her phone is dead or something.”

without missing a beat, harry replied. “yeah, sure. I’ll tell her. also, send me what you need picked up and I’ll get it to you.” 

if there was one thing harry and y/n had in common, it was this: they would always put other people’s needs above their own, especially if it concerned their loved ones. there was no way in hell he would make one of his best friends worry about him when her wedding was just around the corner. he’ll pretend if he had to. but he was not going to fuck this up for them.

“oh, you’re an angel! I’ll send you all the details, thank you! I have to go now but give y/n a kiss from me, please. love you! see you later! bye!”

the phone beeped until inevitable silence.

right, so he had to hope that y/n would attend the wedding. no, he had to be sure that she would be there. not only that; he had to hope that she would agree to act normal around their friends, for now. 

harry needed to find a way to reach her. he might’ve fucked up his own relationship, but he was not going to spoil his friend’s wedding. 

wonderful. what could go wrong? except for absolutely everything?

+++

5.1k, not proofread (whoops), lowercase intended

PART THREE IS HERE HELLOOOOO

thank you for your patience !! i know it’s been a long time coming. parts of this were kind of hard to write for me, so excuse any ill worded sentences, please <3

i hope you enjoy this one! as always, all the love xx

-ve !!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles series #i was feeling very down while writing this and i hope it shows <3 #antiodote #he's writing! #harry styles smut #harry styles soft

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (V)

Know Your Place

Continued from here // Masterpost

*~*~*~*~*

Superhero was standing in front of Kit, chatting, and Kit knew it was a dream. He was doing a mission report. Standard procedure. Kit had done them ever since he started working for Superhero, under the radar and acting as a vigilante in the city.

“And what about Omen?” Superhero asked, and Kit tilted his head slightly.

Omen? Ambrose?

Ambrose was the source of Kit’s nightmares; he couldn’t even escape them in his dreams, and he wanted to tell Superhero everything he was doing to Kit. He wanted so badly to cry into Superhero’s shoulder, even if it was just a projection from Kit’s subconscious.

“Nothing to report I’m afraid,” said Kit, except… Kit didn’t open his mouth to say that. “Ever since the docks he’s been MIA.”

Kit frowned, but his face remained neutral.

No, Kit didn’t know exactly where Ambrose was, but he knew he wasn’t MIA. Kit knew there was definitely some things to report such as Ambrose’s sadistic torture and humiliation in using Kit’s power against them.

Superhero shook his head, tsked and said: “I should have never sent you out there alone.”

“You couldn’t have known, Superhero,” said Kit, “and besides, I’m fine.”

Kit was absolutely not fine.

He couldn’t feel anything in his body, and he felt too far away to be talking like this in his dreams. Not when Kit was so aware of everything.

Aware of how clear he could see Superhero in front of him.

Aware of being in Superhero’s office to give his reports like normal.

Aware of the horrible smell of Superhero’s usual spicy tuna sandwich that he insisted went great with that vinegary BBQ sauce.

Kit frowned and blinked but his eyes didn’t blink. His lips didn’t frown. He just stayed still and waited for Superhero to either reply or dismiss him. He wanted to pinch himself to wake up, this dream was eerily realistic. Too much detail, it was making Kit anxious and yet his heart remained eerily steady.

“Right, well,” Superhero sighed, running a hand through his hair, and shooting Kit a soft happy smile. “Thank you for the update, Kit.”

“I’m just sorry it wasn’t good news,” said Kit a little sadly. Superhero shook his head and put a reassuring hand on Kit’s shoulder, but Kit didn’t feel it.

“Don’t worry, Kit. You and I together, we’re unstoppable. We’ll catch Ambrose before he strikes again. Before he hurt anyone else. I pro—”

The world swirled and shifted and changed and Kit was gasping, as if he had just resurfaced from underwater, all feeling returning to his body as sudden as a tsunami.

“Annnnnndddd you’re back in the room,” Ambrose said, voice far too happy as it reached Kit’s ears. He could feel his body now alright. Feel the electricity buzzing through it and feel the ache in his arms and feel the tiredness of his eyelids.

He gasped in startled breaths as his body spasmed with the aftershock of whatever Ambrose had just done to him. Ambrose had reached up a hand and cupped Kit’s cheek in his palm, then gave it a light slap.

“You in there, little hero? Or do you need another jolt?”

There was an unnatural crackle in the air, electric and fierce and loud. Kit flinched at the buzz of electric blue, nearly the same colour as Kit’s own electricity. Ambrose hummed, his dark eyes capturing Kit’s pained ones and locking them into Ambrose’s carnivorous gaze.

“There you are,” Ambrose purred, digging his fingers into Kit’s cheek. Kit wrenched his head back with an effort, his chest heaving heavy laboured breaths.

Kit only got his bearings then. He wasn’t sitting down anymore, but this time Ambrose let his feet rest flat on the ground with no water. His arms were dragged above Kit’s head, leaving them hang in a Y shape compared to his body. Kit pulled on them, feeling the rubber still sitting snug around his hands, testing the strength and Ambrose’s laugh followed the clack of Kit’s cuffs shifting.

“Yep. You’re there. Do you want another quickie?”

Before Kit could refuse the crackle filled the air and Ambrose pressed it against Kit’s ribs. Kit’s scream was sudden and torn from his throat in a strangled cry of shock. He squirmed away from the pain in a desperate attempt for relief, but Ambrose just followed his movement with a smirk on his horrible red lips. Kit’s muscles spasmed and seized so hard it felt like he was about to burst from the pressure of the electricity coursing through his skin.

After what felt like far too much, and much too long, the crackle in the air died and Kit sucked in startled breaths.

Quick, shallow, useless.

Ambrose put his hand on Kit’s cheek again, steering his head to look at Ambrose, to meet his terrible dark eyes.

“I think that’s enough for now, Kit, don’t you?” Ambrose said sweetly. Kit let out a soft breath of relief. Ambrose tightened his grip on Kit’s face until Kit squirmed before saying: “aren’t you going to thank me, Kit? Did seeing Superhero not teach you any manners?”

Kit blinked, momentarily forgetting the pain of Ambrose’s fingernails biting into his skin.

“Seeing Superhero?” Kit asked, voice far too croaky and rough from the electricity. He flinched when Ambrose lit up the baton again and the air crackled with blue light before ushering out, a sloppy apology: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Yes, that’s enough Ambrose. Thank you.”

Ambrose smiled, pleased, and let go of Kit’s face before moving away from Kit altogether. Ambrose walked to a small table with a bunch of tools perfectly laid out on it and placed the electric baton down in its perfect place.

“It’s a cattle prod,” said Ambrose conversationally, keeping his back turned to Kit. “In case you wanted to know. Tricky thing to get ahold of, but… I’d do anything to see you in pain Kit. Especially at the mercy of the very power that makes you oh so special.”

Kit licked his lips, mouth dry. “What do you mean seeing Superhero?”

It was a dream. Kit had thought it was a dream. It felt like a dream, he couldn’t move or talk or breathe or speak and everything had felt far too far away. Dreamlike.

It had to be a dream.

Ambrose let out a soft insidious laugh, more of a chuckle than anything, and Kit felt the familiar coil of fear wind deep in his gut.

Ambrose turned to face Kit, resting his hands on the table behind him. He was wearing his usual, dress shirt tucked into slacks and clean shoes shined to perfection. He smiled at Kit with his too red lips contrasting against his pale skin like blood on snow, and his dark eyes captured Kit’s in his snare.

“I mean seeing Superhero, Kit. Last time you begged me so beautifully I decided you deserved a little reward. You wanted to be awake, or well… to not go to sleep again,” Ambrose said easily, words flowing like highly pressurised water, cutting into Kit with every new one that fell so easily from Ambrose’s lips.

“So, I let you stay awake, briefly when you reported back to Superhero for me. Tell me, how did it feel seeing Superhero? Being in your body, conscious, so close to being able to reach out and tell him all the atrocities I’ve committed against you, and not being able to so much as lift a finger?”

A lump formed in Kit’s throat as powerless tears started to well in the back of Kit’s eyes. He didn’t say or do anything, he just remained silent and still, not wanting to give Ambrose what he wanted. Not wanting to give him a reaction.

“Did the electricity seize your vocal chords, little Kit? Would you like it to?”

Kit just stared.

Despite everything in his body begging him to speak, to tell Ambrose not to shock them again, Kit remained silent. Just staring ahead.

“Hmph, silent treatment. Fine I can just put you to sleep again and let you wake up when you sink a knife into Supe—”

“No!” Kit blurted, then silently chastised himself, balling his hands into fists above his head and tugging uselessly on his cuffs. Idiot.

Ambrose crossed the room in two long strides and grabbed Kit by his chin, tilting his head up to stare Ambrose in the eyes. He didn’t realise that Ambrose was taller than him until that moment. His dark eyes had a vile hunger in it, and a sharp anger glowered back at Kit for his disobedience.

“Then tell me how it felt.”

“It felt—” Kit croaked weakly, hating himself for obeying and yielding to every threat Ambrose threw at him, like some scared child. “It felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare. I thought… I thought I was dreaming because I couldn’t do anything, or feel anything, until you shocked me back here.”

“Do you believe me now, little Kit, hmm? That nobody is looking for you? That nobody knows about our secret little meetings,” Ambrose asked, voice deceptively sweet. The weight of Ambrose’s words hit Kit harder than Other Hero’s blast of water. He wasn’t lying. Kit was really and truly alone; nobody knew about Ambrose because Kit…

Kit had seen himself tell Superhero that it was alright. That there was no word of Omen. That Omen had disappeared after the docks, but he hadn’t because he were standing in front of Kit now, smirking at him with his horrible smile and his horrible eyes.

“Yes, you see now, don’t you?”

Frustrated tears gathered behind Kit’s eyes again at the utter helplessness of his situation, of the complete powerlessness. He felt trapped here with Ambrose.

No one was coming.

No back up.

No heroes to save him.

Kit balled his hands into fists, tugging hard at the restraints keeping him chained to the ceiling.

“Don’t be so certain,” Kit ground out, his voice watery and weak but he didn’t care.

“Superhero’s still looking for you, and when he finds you,” Kit continued, leaning as far forward as his restraints would allow, smile feral as he pushed Ambrose’s hand back, “he’ll find me too, and I’ll make sure you suffer.”

Ambrose’s eyes lit up with that. He laughed, taking his hand off Kit’s face and patting Kit’s chest instead. Kit rolled back, limbs aching as the chains pulled taut around his wrist and gritted his teeth.

“Promises, promises,” Ambrose hummed. “I look forward to seeing this vengeful side of you Kit. That was brave, to threaten me like that when you know there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me.”

Ambrose shrugged, rolling his shoulders, grinning widely. “Maybe Superhero finds me, and maybe you do what you said you would. But as long as you’re here with me, I’ll make sure that you assure Superhero that all is well and that I’ve disappeared into the sunset. Keep that spark of defiance for as long as you can hold onto it Kit.”

“From what I can see… there is one little snag in your brilliant plan Kit. You forget I own you now. You’re like my own little puppet.”

“I’m not your puppet!” Kit cried, anger leaking into his expression.

Ambrose just smiled. “No?”

“No.”

“Interesting,” Ambrose hummed, turning his back to Kit. He walked across the room back to his little table of horrors and then the world faded to an impenetrable darkness, as if Kit’s eyes were shut in a basement with no light or windows, but… but he was still in the same position. Nothing had changed.

Kit pulled on his restraints just to make sure, and he was certain that he was in the same room, same position, same time but it was hard to know.

“Am—” Kit began then stopped himself. What was he going to do beg? Cry out? Make sure he was still there?

Ambrose was probably the one doing this to him.

“Kit?” It was Superhero who said that, and Kit froze. His heart thundering against his ears.

Did Ambrose make good on his promise?! Was Kit stabbing Superhero. His blood ran cold, a shiver crawling slow and icy up his spine.

There was a hand on Kit’s wrist and Kit jerked back, not trusting any of this. Even if there was a small part of him that wanted to.

“Easy, Kit. I’m getting you down.”

“No…” Kit said softly. “No this is a trick. Don’t touch me, Ambrose!”

“Kit, shh, or he’ll hear us.”

“You can’t fool me, Ambrose,” Kit spat, voice poisonous and broken. “You’re not as good as you think you are.”

Or maybe I’m just going easy on you, Kit, Ambrose purred inside Kit’s head.

Kit shook his head, screwing his eyes shut trying to shake Ambrose out, but he knew it was useless. “Maybe I’m just going easy on you. You’re so brave when I can’t use my powers, Ambrose. You know that? We have a word for that in the hero tower. Cow—”

Kit cut himself off.

It wasn’t a natural thing, more like he ran out of air and couldn’t make it with enough breath to the end of the sentence. Kit choked, swallowing, and trying to start speaking again but he couldn’t.

“What was that, Kit?” Ambrose asked out loud. The darkness bled away from the centre of Kit’s vision, and he could see Ambrose staring at him with a sick sort of interest. “What was the word?”

Kit opened his mouth and tried again but nothing came out but a breathy wheeze, as if Kit’s voice was gone.

“Hmm,” Ambrose said, tilting his head. “Mustn’t have been important. Anyways, since a cat’s got your tongue let’s go back to my little puppet analogy, shall we?”

Ambrose started walking then. He walked around Kit, circling him like a vulture ready to pick the meat from Kit’s bones. Maybe he was. Kit followed Ambrose with his limited vision until Ambrose disappeared from Kit’s sight and the blackness screwed up the small tunnel of vision Kit had.

“Puppets can’t see,” Ambrose said behind Kit now. Kit turned his head to the side hoping Ambrose would let him see again even just a sliver. This was too much. This was too much, and Kit couldn’t even beg for Ambrose to stop. “Puppets can’t speak. Remind me again, Kit, can you speak?”

Before Kit could do anything, he heard the clack of the cattle prod. It was pressed against his leg suddenly and Kit screamed but no sound came out. Kit’s muscles spasmed, his calf slipping out from under him, and he cried as his shoulder took the brunt force of the pain but he couldn’t scream.

“If you’re not a puppet, Kit, tell me when it hurts, and I’ll stop.”

Kit vaguely heard the words through his nerves lighting on fire and trying to scream as loud as he could, to get any air from his lungs and force his vocal chords to produce sound. To do something!

Fuck!

Stop! Stop! STOP! AMBROSE PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!

The electricity stopped cackling through the air and Kit sagged in his restraints, his legs going out from under him. He hung limply by his wrists, nerves still on fire on every point of his body. He swallowed weakly, snot and tears flowing freely in rivers down Kit’s face.

“See, Kit?” A hand was on his cheek, gently wiping away his silent tears as he sucked in heavy breaths and heaved out shuddering sighs. Kit couldn’t even pull away, he didn’t have the strength, so his cheek rested heavily in Ambrose’s palm. Putty in Ambrose’s hands. His muscles still spasming from the aftershock. “A puppet can’t feel pain. I could give you that power you know. Turn off the nerve receptors in your brain, then you wouldn’t feel a thing for real.”

Kit shook his head, sniffing and sobbing silently.

“No? Then maybe you could actually rebel against me, hmm,” Ambrose cooed, running a hand through Kit’s hair. Kit flinched as Ambrose’s fingers pushed the stray hairs off of Kit’s forehead soaked in sweat, back out of his blind eyes that Kit couldn’t see out of.

Kit swallowed hard at Ambrose’s words, trying to steel himself and make himself impenetrable but he couldn’t help the dread dripping down from the lump in his throat and pooling into his gut. He was completely and utterly at Ambrose’s mercy. So powerless.

He couldn’t see if Ambrose didn’t want him to.

He couldn’t speak if Ambrose didn’t want him to.

He couldn’t breathe, if Ambrose didn’t want him to.

He was choking on his helplessness and the realisation made a fresh wave of tears to pour down Kit’s cheeks.

Slowly, achingly slow, Kit’s vision returned to him, and he recoiled slightly, squinting against the dim light of the room that was too bright after his bout of pure darkness.

“There. See, Kit? I can be merciful too,” said Ambrose, voice imperceptibly soft. Ambrose reached up his other hand, the cattle prod hanging from his wrist, and cupped Kit’s cheeks in two hands, wiping away the tears, forcing Kit to look into his dark eyes. “I just wanted you to understand exactly how powerless you are to stop me, so maybe I don’t have to punish you as much. Would you like that?”

Kit couldn’t do anything in reply, but he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. What do you say to something like that? A promise to not hurt Kit was worth as much as a flammable fire extinguisher. Worth as much as a Kit with electric powers wrapped in rubber.

“You can talk, Kit,” Ambrose told him, with an encouraging smile.

Kit sucked in a breath and sure enough he could hear the pathetic gasp of air. His eyes shone with the hopelessness and pain of Ambrose’s latest attack, he didn’t even want to see how pathetic he looked… but he knew one thing for certain.

He wasn’t broken yet.

“D…” Kit rasped and then descended into a small coughing fit before composing himself, swallowing and clearing his throat. He looked into Ambrose’s hideous dark eyes that were too bright at Kit’s misery. “Do… your worst, Ambrose. I’ll get out of here eventually, and you’ll… pay.”

Ambrose smiled, his red lips curling up at the edges into a smile sharper than a Stanley blade. “Oh, I look forward to it, Kit. You are just so determined. So full of surprises, I knew it was a good idea to take you, and you just keep giving me more and more reasons to keep you.”

Ambrose dug his nails in Kit’s cheeks with a grin before letting go of Kit’s face and stepping back and raising the cattle prod like a sword and holding it up towards Kit.

“You have your little vengeance plot going on, and while it’s cute and absolutely adorable and delusional. I can and will” Ambrose said, touching the cattle prod to each of Kit’s shoulders. Ambrose’s face brightened when Kit flinched back both times, terrified, “do whatever I like with you in the meantime. How’s that sound?”

Ambrose held up the cattle prod and pressed the button down, watching as Kit flinched at the mere sight and sound of the electricity.

“Ready for round two?”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage (plz lemme know if you want to be added or removed <;3) — @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @princess-bubble-blossom

#intoxicating fear #intoxicating fear part V #IF #writblr #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #hero #villain #writing #orphan writing #Whump #cruel whumper #powerless whumpee #defiant whumpee #poor whumpee #whump scenario #whump writing #whump fic #whumpblr #whump community #villain whumper #hero whumpee #intelligent whumper #intelligent villain #cruel villain #clever villain #hero and villain #kidnapped hero #hero whump

[leascorner]

b.r. | Second thoughts

Summary:  Though you had prepared for this day, it still didn’t ease the terror slowly building in your stomach as you were slowly realizing that he was really in front of you. You didn’t know if he was here for you or only to get to Frank. In any case, there wasn’t any happy ending to expect. This was just going to end bad.

Pairing:  Billy Russo x ex!reader

Warnings: Mention of death, injuries, blood, gun, murder, toxic relationship, stalking, (major) angst, reader has no specific sex mentioned, I didn't really watched the Punisher so apologies for any inconsistency (hopefully I learned enough from all the fanfics lol).

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

You had only come home after an endless work dinner.

Just like you had done a million times, you had placed your keys in your trinket bowl, had put away your shoes and bag before stepping into the rest of your apartment, so ready to go to bed.

This time though, you had not done three steps that your heart had made a sudden jump in your chest for no reason. Chills had run down your spine; all your body hair had straightened up, so straight it was actually painful.

An alarm rang into your head. Something was wrong.

Very, very, wrong.

It was obvious now, from the perfume lingering in the air - his perfume - that he was the reason all your senses were now in alert. Perhaps had he been there before you even got home. Or worse, perhaps was he still here, waiting for you.

Your phone was still in your bag, in your halfway, a few meters back. If he was still here - watching you, it would have been too suspicious for you to run back to it to call for help. So, you opted for a safer option in your mind: ignoring your gut feeling. You tried not to look alarmed while you went through your living room, purposely keeping the lights off. Thankfully, the full moon shining bright out of the living room windows was enough to make your way to your bedroom.

Without thinking, you opened one of your wardrobes and reached for the first clean pyjama on top of the pile. You also reached out for your safe, hidden behind a pile a yoga pants. As quickly and as silently as possible, you opened it and grabbed the gun you were safely keeping in it. It was always loaded as you knew if ever were you in the need to use it, you would never have the time to load it. Little did you know at that time that you would be right.

You hid your weapon under your pyjama before turning around to switch the light on. Holding your breath, you had a quick look around your bedroom: everything was just as you had left it that morning. No sign of him whatsoever.

You weren’t even sure if you were still holding your breath when you entered your living room, but your fingers were definitely shaking as you reached to the light switch. Heart beating furiously in your chest, you braced yourself for what was to come. Your instinct knew he would be right there, sat nonchalantly in your reading fancy armchair. He would have this bright flashing smile on his lips as if he owned the place. His eyes mocking all of your efforts to be safe from him.

And you were right. He was. Exactly like you knew he would. It was your worst nightmare coming alive, except this time there was no waking up.

You should have seen it coming though. A couple of days ago, Frank had called you to let you know Billy had escaped and for you to ‘stay safe’ - as if there were anything you could do about that. Of course, both of you knew there was only one person he could go to: you. Yet, him having the nerves to actually show up in your apartment, years after you had broken up, months after you had helped to lock him up, was still surprising to you.

What you had done to him was nothing compared to all he had made you suffer. He had lied to you, hurt you in so many ways, put your heart back together only to break it all over again. You had never figured out if he was either not loving you enough - or loving you so much he preferred to play with your feeling instead of assuming he too could actually have feelings.

Despite all of this, you had hoped for so long that he would change. That your love would be enough. That you would be the one, the only one, to make things right with him. You had been blinded for so long that your world had been wrecked when you had learned about the last atrocity he had done. It had taken for him to commit the horrible murder of his friend’s family, to make you realize there were nothing from this man to save. He wasn’t a lost puppy in need, he was a lost cause.

After your break-up, Billy had made your life a nightmare. Calling you at any time during the day or night, with different burner phones so he could still reach you even if you blocked all of his different numbers. Somehow, he kept showing up everywhere you went. Sending you notes, flowers, and gifts to your work. Waiting for you every day right outside your flat.

You had moved or had changed your number so many times you couldn’t remember them all. Multiple times you had found yourself yelling at him, imploring him in tears in the middle of the street to leave you alone. And every time he had smiled at you, just like he was doing right now.

You knew Billy too well to know how cruel and ever more unpredictable he was, which made him ever more so dangerous. He didn’t scare you, no… He literally terrified you. And not knowing what he wanted from you tonight was even worse…

Stopped in your tracks, immobile like a deer in the headlights of a car, you watched as he stood up and took a step your way. You took one backwards, trying to keep a good distance between the two of you. He took another one again and after you also took one back and hit the wall, you let your pyjama fall on the ground to display your weapon as a warning to try and intimidate him if you could.

“I’ve taught you so well,” he smiled immediately and hold a hand to his chest to show how touched he was by your gesture.

You snorted in answer.

Billy had not taught you one thing; he had rather inflicted them on you. This was his way of doing and everything you had shared had been through blood and tears. He had made you loved him so much that you had had no other choice that to help Frank to stop him when everything became out of control. He had had put you through so much that you had had to buy a gun so you could protect yourself from him.

Though you had prepared for this day, it still didn’t ease the terror slowly building in your stomach as you were slowly realizing that he was really in front of you. You didn’t know if he was here for you or only to get to Frank. In any case, there wasn’t any happy ending to expect. This was just going to end bad.

You watched as Billy took another step your way. He was so close that with your arm out straight in front of you, the barrel of your gun was nearly touching his chest. All you could look at now was how slowly his chest was raising and falling. If he only took one more step, if you pressed the trigger, you would lodge a bullet through him.

You could severely hurt him, or even worse: kill him.

“What is that, darlin’?”

The gun was starting to feel so heavy in your hand that your whole arm was shaking. You weren’t used in staying your arm out straight for so long and you needed to grab the gun with your other hand. If you had to be totally transparent, you had only practice to shoot once and seeing someone in front of you – knowing that you could lethally hurt them – was totally disconcerting. It was nothing like the inanimate white sheet of paper that you knew you couldn’t hurt.

You realized now that you weren’t like him. No matter how much you hated him and how much it made you want him to suffer, you couldn’t hurt him. You didn’t want him dead; you only wanted him very far away from you, so far away that you could forget that he ever existed. You were probably too good that you would let him hurt you, instead of defending yourself.

“Can’t have second thoughts now, can we?”

Of course, he knew you. He could see the reluctance in your eyes and was playing with it. You knew how it was, you had been here before. You knew he would just get under your skin and play with your head, push you to your limits.

You couldn’t let him do that. You had your principles; you knew who you were, and you knew you were a better person than him.

“Stop talking!”

“Or what?”

Billy still had that stupid cocky smile on his lips and his left eyebrow lifted, silently inquiring what you would dare to do to him. You knew he was enjoying every minute of it. He had proved himself countless times to be the most sadistic person you ever encountered in your life, yet it still surprised you.

You had thought long and through about it when you were still thinking you could fix him. How such a lovely man to all appearances could have ended up like this. The war had definitely been a factor. Joining the mob was another. Yet, none of his friends or partners had turned out this vicious.

You had finally come to realize that this vice of him had always been there and probably would have shown up eventually, war and crime had only made it emerge more quickly.

“Go on,” he instructed.

When you shook your head in response, Billy impatiently grabbed your own hands with his own, pressing the gun into his belly. Eyes wide, you tried to pull away, but his grip was stronger, and he only pressed the barrel of the gun even further against him.

As you couldn't change the direction of the gun, you tried to let it go, but he crushed your fingers against the trigger, and you nearly fired it against your will.

“Just do it.”

His words seemed to repeat endlessly all in your head. His tone was mocking you, as if you were too fragile, not brave enough to just do it. He was pushing all of your buttons in a way he knew you would have no other choice that to give in.

You stayed still in front of him, trying to keep a closed face as much as possible - you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he was succeeding in torturing you - but you knew your eyes were betraying you.

You battled hard to not give him what he wanted, as his mocking eyes burned holes into your skull. You prayed whatever gods you believed in to keep you strong.

Yet, one by one, you could feel all of your barriers falling.

“I freaking hate you,” you cried out.

He laughed heartily, wrinkles showing up around his eyes, and his laughter froze on his face as you pressed the trigger. In slow motion, you felt the detonation, then the recoil in your arms. The grip of his hand on yours was reduced ever so slightly. You watched as he was taken aback by the detonation and how his eyes opened wider while the bullet went through his flesh.

His knees gave way under his body, and you continued to stand with your arms outstretched, watching him collapse to the ground. One of his hands reached for you, while the other reached for his belly. The blood that stuck to it finally made you realized what had happened.

The time seemed to regain its natural speed. You dropped the gun safely and knelt to his side.

“Press it against the wound,” you instructed while handing him your pyjamas that you had dropped a couple of minutes ago.

His hands trembled in yours as you directed both of them to rest against his chest. You pushed hard on it, trying to collapse the hole that you had made yourself, trying to keep as much blood inside him as possible.

All his blood had left his face and you had never seen him so livid. His eyes were furiously looking for yours, which you understood as seeking the reassurance he wasn’t going to die alone.

“I’ve got you,” you promised. Despite everything he had done to you, you weren’t like him. You were indeed a good person, and you would fix what you had broken. “It’s going to be alright.”

#lea's writing #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x ex!reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fic #billy russo imagine #billy russo angst #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel

[vorpalfae]

I'm coming to you with this question because you were a heroin addict so you know what its like to feel REAL withdrawal from hard drugs. I keep seeing posts from this girl who is withdrawing from 60mg of cymbalta that she apparently has been taking for 4 years. On twitter & every other social she has she's acting like she's suffering through extreme withdrawal. I just want to know if this is an exaggeration especially when she took such a low dose. She's been bitching for weeks and I'm skeptical

Okay so the thing with a dose like 60 mg being taken for even a few months, your body will eventually start to gain a tolerance to it. Thats why when doctors start you on a psych med they typically start at a dose that is barely even noticeable like 5mg and they increase it every couple weeks or so.

So if you've been taking 60mg for 4 YEARS your tolerance is so high its basically like taking nothing. Seriously. I've taken cymbalta myself for depression as a teenager and it didn't really do anything for me. As for side affects, I only really remember feeling more irritable and i had nightmares for a few days. But i didn't feel anything that truly bothered me. Everyone is different, but my dose was 120mg and I was on it for about a year.

If you experience any withdrawal from cymbalta the longest it last could be a month or maybe longer. and it would only last that long if you were on a high dose. 60 mg is not a strong enough dose for you to be feeling withdrawal symptoms for more than 2 weeks. and thats REALLY stretching it. i think with a dose that low you might feel weird for about a week or maybe a week and a half. but any time after 14 days your side affects would either be gone or less noticeable. if this person is still complaining like they are in agony then in my opinion they are definitely exaggerating.

also, a drug like cymbalta is not a controlled substance. you cannot get high from it. and not every person who takes it experiences withdrawal symptoms. i was on it for a year and i stopped taking it 1 day abruptly and it didn't make much of a difference other than the irritation and nightmares.

if i had to compare getting off cymbalta to severe withdrawal like heroin or suboxone, i'd say there is absolutely NO comparison. withdrawal from drugs like that is absolute hell to suffer through.

most psych meds, unless they are benzo's (like xanax, etc) or painkillers, don't really have any serious withdrawal symptoms. especially if your dose is 60mg or less.

if this person is still complaining in another week from now i would strongly believe they are full of shit if they aren't full of shit already.

i'm not a doctor, but i've had personal experiences with this substance and other substances that produce severe withdrawal, and i know a lot about psychiatric medication from being a healthcare worker and from being an addict.

every person is different, but severe withdrawal at a low dose of cymbalta that your body has become tolerant to for 2+ years, after stopping the medication for 2 weeks is EXTREMELY unlikely, even if you stop it abruptly.

#ask

[frenchgremlim1808]

WHAT YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTERS SAYS ABOUT YOU: YTTD EDITION

PART 1) THE PARTICIPANTS

SARA CHIDOUIN:

You can’t stop praising her about how amazing of a protagonist she is compared to other protags in similar games such as danganronpa. You would and WILL fight anyone that says anything bad about your homegirl an you DEFINITELY need therapy

JOE TAZUNA:

You have the terrible habit of falling immediately in love with the best friend archetype that we met in the beginning who’s clearly gonna die. When they die you keep telling yourself you won’t be fooled again and then you do. Anyway you are in denial

KEIJI SHINOGI:

You keep justifying you love for him by using the “he’s a complex character, he’s deep and shit” but that’s just an excuse to not say “i want him to carnally fuck me and treat my little bitch with his huge arms and tits”. Whatever sexuality you were before, his deep look probably turned you gay. Anyhow you are horny as fuck and you definitely need therapy, you little whor-

REKO YABUSAME:

Either you are the the most gay motherfucker on the planet or you’re veeeeeeeeeeery straight.  you’re favorite ship is naoreko. NEVERTHELESS you want her to step on you. 

Q-TARO BURGERBERG: 

there is exactly two type of q-taro fans, The meme lord or the 20 page Reddit post defending his character from any criticism. We allllll know which ever type of fan you are, you cried like a baby in his final moments.

 KAZUMI MISHIMA:

You definitely made every possible outcome in ytts, an replayed it multiple times. You probably follow  “ mishima-in-places-he-shouldnt-be” and is still sad that this gentle loving dude had to die first why it is. always. the. cool. dudes. who. dies. first., WHY, WHY NANKIDAI ?

KANNA KIZUCHI: 

You are awesome, smart, and just the perfect person to be around, you’re aura smells pure awesomeness, no, NO i am not biased.at.all it’s not like  she’s my profile picture. 

In all seriousness, you probably crave any green bling content and also loves shin too but kanna passion and pure kindness made you make the choice to kill shin. It seemed to difficult to vote for a kid so you voted shin. You relate to kanna struggles And ADORES her character development in 3b. Also you definitely need many therapy session (not projecting at all) .

NAO EGOKORO: 

If being a joe fan is sadness, a greenbling fan depression, well being a nao fan is literal despair and anger with anguish. Bro what the fuck did she do to have such an horrible end like that, her entire experience in the death game was  a pure nightmare. Homegirl did nothing wrong, she shouldn’t literally even be here dude😭😭. You have only one consolation is that now she’s in heaven with her girlfriend, also obviously you ship naoreko

GIN IBUSHI:

You are right in fact you are 99.99 percent of the fandom. And i know that if one day you see anyone put gin below S tier or say anything relatively negative about him, you WILL find them, you WILL track them , and you’re gonna BOIL THEM ALIVE. And i will probably cheer you so go on, pop off, girlboss or mansplain bestie !  

KAI SATOU:

You are mesmerized by his beautiful aura and luscious long mane. Every time the characters talk about him you feel so much happiness that his sacrifice was in the end really worth it, but still you cry that the cutest malewife had to go first.

ALICE YABUSAME:

His atrocious hair made you burn your eyes, his cringe fail personality made you laugh but his death destroyed you entirely. In the end you fell for this transmasc king. If you played logic rote you probably died a second time lol.

S H I N  T S U K I M I:

Shin tsukimi, oh, Shin Tsukimi the character of all time. So from what i understand he’s your favorite character. Were you the weird kid in your class when you were in high school or that one queer kid that tried to hide your identity but everyone knew just by a single look? Just by looking at you i can see a lot of self loathing and unaddressed personal issues that you try hiding under a rug instead of actually addressing them. Do you take time to eat, to drink, don’t forget to take a break from negativity when you are at your lowest, okay ? Diagnosing you is pretty hard you probably have a thousand problems but at least, i hope, not as much as this little dumbass.                                           There is two type of shin fans:

-the one who want to punch him, shove him into a locker and bully him 

-the one who want to give him a warm hug, a nice soup and a good night of sleep.                                                                                                                    In both cases, you are exactly like him and projecting so hard onto him. Also you are supeeeeeer gay like extra gay. Like your aura smells GAY you know. No cis het allo kinnie of shins exist actually, it’s as possible as dividing 0 by 0.  

So conclusion go to therapy

KUGIE KIZUCHI:

Ao3 is your god, your lord and everything that you need to live. Every time ao3 get down you die inside. You crave any content of her and wish that we can know more in the future about her (i do too) and you probably feel in love with her trough fanfic.

MEGUMI SASAHARA:

You guys exists? Well you like evil boss woman, i guess.

This shit full of errors and mistakes also this is a joke don’t get offended, remember as a greenbling fan i am probably the least respected type of yttd fan, well above the keiji simps you guys are wild. 

#yttd #kimi ga shine #your turn to die #sara chidouin #joe tazuna #keiji shinogi #reko yabusame #alice yabusame #kazumi mishima #gin ibushi #kai satou #q-taro burgerberg #nao egokoro #kanna kizuchi #shin tsukimi #kugie kizuchi #megumi sasahara

[colorfulyetsinful]

I wrote this on my phone again😀

You could tell with the amount of emojis I used, anyways

Tim is literally my favorite I never shut up about him and bc of that this list is so goddamn long. I honestly tried to be consistent but I was going off the top of my head

Enjoy and become apart of the Tim Drake cult😈

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim Drake hc!!! WOAH!

Nepotism baby

He’s a rich child with inheritance and basically running two separate businesses

Nepotism at its finest✨

Since he was usually on his own (due to his parent working) he used Batman and Robin as a form of escapism

Kinda lonely

He’ll talk to himself as if he was talking to Batman and Robin

Definitely ran a Batman and/or Gotham vigilante stan account on Twitter

Toxic fan **tm**

no literally, he would argue with anyone who disagreed on him that Batman was the best hero,

especially if they were Metropolis

bc why tf do they always have to involve themselves in everything Gotham🤨

Two words: Parasocial relationship

had an unhealthy obsession with Robin!Jason,

Robin!Jason saved him ONCE (1x) and it was down hill from there

Def locked himself in his room, sobbing, screaming, pulling his hair, and throwing up when Jason died.

News: Jason Todd, son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne, pronounced death! Read more to find out.

Tim: NOO!

Vaild tho,

who wasn’t crying when Jason died?

(The joker)

Wha-

He had a celebrity crush on Dick (not ship related),

no one knows about it (it’s all over his stan account that he made sure will never see the light of day),

he’s taking that secret to the grave

I say this a lot about Tim, but

Whore **tm**

have you seen his body count?!

definitely followed in Dick’s footsteps

Strange is what ppl say about him,

vaild tho,

if I had to sit next to Tim in class, I would find him strange too

Adhd coded,

why do ya think he keeps himself busy?! He literally can’t sit still

Also no insomnia,

he just suffers from chronic nightmares that keeps him from getting proper rest,

So de just decided not to sleep

“Nightmares can’t effect me if I don’t sleep”

Yeah, scarecrow has nothing on him,

poor guy’s had worse

Even after getting adopted, he never really felt part of the family,

Always feeling like he has to prove something to Bruce to stay as robin,

Which is why, when Dick had Damian be Robin, Tim felt like he had no place in the family anymore

That’s why he went a little insane

It’s cool, they’re fine now…

Speaking of insane,

Tim is like the one robin in the family I would not want to fight

Like compare to the others,

(Dick has experience form doing it for so long + mf is giggling and joking while kicking ass,

Jason is just kid with daddy issues and a gun, it’s America, been there seen it,

And Damian has both daddy and mommy issues, angain nothing really special)

Tim is just purely unhinged,

he’s got everything to prove without the care in the world what happens to him,

don’t forget his mad scientist era

What I’m trying to say is that Tim is scary and you have a better chance fighting Damian or Jason

(at least they kinda make it quick)

Ok back to silly goofy hc :D

Tim used to write Batman fanfics,

it’s true I was his screensaver

He used them all wattpad, fanfic.net, ao3, tumblr, etc

It was mostly “original character” fics, that were actually self inserts

as escapism

(He’s def taking that to the grave)

Stephanie found out about it and he was planing her “disappearance” within a rive minute timeframe

Speaking of Steph,

They cringe every time someone brings up the fact that they used to date

*hold cute picture of Steph/Tim* Awe you guys were so cute, ashamed you two broke up

Them: *gag*

He loves Steph tho, she’s his ride or die

As I mentioned in my Accent hc,

Tim knows a lot of languages bc rich kid

Him and Damian talk to each other in mandarin, mostly bc it’s a language they both know fluently

He tried to learn Arabic so Damian could feel comfortable talking to him,

(This is after the many times he’s tried to kill him, but hey what are brother’s for..?)

He couldn’t quite get the pronunciation right, and just said “fuck it we speaking mandarin”

Literally, they don’t even speak in English to each other anymore,

Like if it’s just them talk, other ppl they’ll translate or they’re talking shit

Tim and Damian actually get along,

Like it was rough at first, but living together really forces the two to get along

(Imma add more about them in a different hc)

Also Dick Grayson!!

Did I mention he had a parasocial relationship?

Yeah, Dick was not excluded from that

He knew Dick was mostly giving him the time of day bc he felt guilt about not being there enough for Jason,

But he doesn’t care

He knew what he was doing going to Dick about being Robin,

“You gotta be Robin again. Batman needs Robin”

“Idk who you are kid, but I am not wear that thing again. Plus blue is more my color. You wearing if you think it’ll help Bruce”

*Tim already at the display case* “I mean…if you insist”

Stalker

Nothing else to add to that

He’s the best to take to galas (or just to deal with high society in general) having grew up with lessons on how to be a “proper young man”

Study abroad at one point,

It was in Switzerland

Has a staring problem

Literally. Imagine just minding your business in a public area and turning to see (👁️👁️) staring death at you without blinking

Don’t worry, it’s just his adhd taking over the most part of his brain

He actually hates black coffee, but it’s the only think strong enough to have him away (so he won’t get nightmares)

He watches anime,

Specifically, shonen anime and BL (boylove)

He watches anime with Damian while arguing about the main pairing not working bc the “male love interest is obviously gay”

He wrote fanfics, you think he won’t be a shipper?

Can sing,

Like really good

Jason caught him singing in his room at like 2:30 in the morning and sent a video to the group chat

*jason sent a video*

Jason: ya see this shit😀

Everyone goes crazy bc Tim sounds so nice

The thing is, Tim never hid the fact that he can sing, just never said it out load

But if you were really pay attention to him, you could have caught him lightly singing to himself any indie or viral tiktok song while he does basic tasks

Everyone now has a mission of trying to catch him in the act,

Only Alfred and Cass knew he could sing

Bart knows about his identity before he told the team,

Bc Yk future and all

So him and Tim just naturally became closer over time as Tim could rant to Bart without worrying about his identity being blown

(More about this in another hc)

Cannon that he cross dresses

I think that’s it for now…

#batfam #batman #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #red robin #robin #dc characters #batfamily headcanons #batfam headcanons #dc headcanon #idk what other tags to add #I have more hcs for tim but I can’t think right now it’s 12am #I love Tim Drake #hes my favorite robin next to robin!Jason

[crowboss-whore]

I just wanted to say I edited Chapter 13! I removed, reworked, and replaced some things in there. The full list of it all will be placed beneath the cut, but if you wanna go read it, you're more than welcome to. This is gonna help with chapter 14 and give me more wiggle room when I get back to writing it.

edits i've made -

- fixed some grammar mistakes (I probably missed some ngl)

- retconned the nightmare at the beginning. while you still get nightmares, you don't ever remember what it's about.

- reworked "You were anything but nonchalant about it. The discovery of a box with your name on it in the Flaming Foundry is sending you into a crisis. Is someone out there, right now, with your name and face? Are you living their life? Have you stolen something from them? You fucking exist here but not in the sense of you" - it now says "You were anything but nonchalant about it. Having discovered the box in the Flaming Foundry, you've been getting fits every night. Shit sleep schedule, worrying about if it was all a coincidence, or if you're wearing the face and the name of someone else. Something in you is hoping, screaming, it's a coincidence that someone has the same name as you. There are over a billion people on ythis planet, someone is bound to share the same name and face. It can't be impossible, can it?"

- reworked "When you stumbled upon it a few days back, you had bugged Red Son to read it. Traditional Mandarin had more strokes and more characters than simplified Mandarin. There were pronunciation and definition changes over time. Terminology, phrases, and vocabulary might have meant something different compared to the modern meaning. Sure, you can get a general idea of what it means by skimming over the words, but you were desperate. This box had scrolls that had your name. It was repeated constantly with an ever-changing tone." and "You didn’t get the reaction you liked when Red Son had shakily put the scroll back and quietly shoved you out of the foundry. His reaction haunts your dreams and is the trigger to the repeating nightmare of blood and fire." - now says "When the two of you stumbled upon it a few days ago, you asked for a translation. The writing on the box was Traditional Mandarin, which has more strokes and characters than the current simplified Mandarin. Not to mention pronunciation and definition changes over time. While you can read, write, and even talk in Mandarin, you only know the modern version of it. So, as one casually does with a friend who knows traditional and modern, you had all but bugged the shit out of Red Son." and "You didn't quite get a response as he huffed, shoved the box further into the mess of whatever-the-fuck-boxes, roughly handed you the new (very legal, very real) driver's licenses, and kicked you out of the area. T'was not a fun time for you."

- replaced "scroll" with "box"

- rewrote "But you aren’t, and you’re too scared to tell them. The dream– memory?– from when you had collapsed has somehow burnt itself into your brain. The feeling of heat from the fire echoes and lingers like a phantom touch. You vividly remember the feeling of sticky wet blood drying on your hands and Xuan-colored hanfu. An overwhelming need to vigorously wash your hands until they’re red from irritation overcoming your being." - now says "You aren't. You aren't okay. You aren't fine. You'll never be fine. Nothing will ever be fine! Not with the fits of hazy dreams that you could never remember. Not with the greedy claws of future-seeking demons— ones you created with your lies—peaking around every damn corner. Not with your knowledge, your awareness— everything! The awareness of what is to come stains your hands with thick carmine that drips off your hands. The awareness of the ones who never come out of these events alive.

You will never be okay."

- rewrote from ""Neither," you swat at him playfully..." to ""Wh-" Macaque chokes on his spit. "What?""

- replaced "He's flabbergasted, downright flustered" with "He was flattered, charmed, rizzed-up, and completely confused."

- replaced "The two of you burst out into laughter at the description" with "You snickered at the wrinkled-nose reaction at the description."

#❛ a seer of secrets ❜ #crow talks ࿓ #lmk x reader #lego monkie kid x reader

[traumasurvivors]

You deleted my reblog cause you know it's true. Those people are just traumatizing themselves. I'd love to see you actually answer this and explain how me being beaten is the same as someone being "traumatized online." You can't. I couldn't turn my trauma off, they could. Big difference! Teach people to turn their phones off, not to accept their own stupidity of not doing so.

I blocked you, therefore deleting your reblog as a result, because it could be very triggering to others, and all it said was "no, online trauma isn't real". It literally added nothing of value and I am allowed to delete whatever I think doesn't belong on my post. My blog is about offering validation to survivors of all types of trauma.

But let's talk about online trauma for a second. It would be valid if someone got traumatized without this sort of background, but for me, my online trauma took place because I was being molested by a family member at the time. This lead me to seek out relationships online with older men, and you can be damn sure that still carries trauma effects to this day. Men who wanted to hear the stories of what was being done to me. I didn't know any better. I didn't know to block them. I literally thought that I was doing what I was supposed to do because of how I had been conditioned and groomed.

I have also experienced domestic abuse, and been beaten as a child. I spent 18 years of my life living in active trauma situations between sexual abuse, physical abuse, and emotional abuse by family and a romantic partner. I have several frames of reference and I can still tell you that the online trauma I experienced was real.

Also, with your logic, is my trauma from being beaten and sexually abused by my romantic partner not valid because I could have just "walked away?" Is my child abuse not valid because I could have just "told someone?" Trauma doesn't work within any set of rules.

I'm not bringing up what I went through to try and compare traumas, that's not the point. The point is that because I've been through what people deem as "acceptable" and "big" trauma, I feel like my opinion on the trauma you see as less valid should have weight to it since I have experienced it too and it traumatized me as well.

Comparing trauma doesn't help anyone. It's not about the events themselves, but how they affect someone. I personally experience more trauma from an experience I had with a spider verses an assault I went through. I have flashbacks and nightmares about this experience with a spider and I end up panicking when I'm in the place where I dealt with it.

I understand that you are hurting, and I understand that maybe you feel like it makes your trauma seem less important somehow. But it doesn't. Other people having trauma doesn't mean yours is less valid or important somehow. It's also not uncommon for some survivors to feel like other people's trauma isn't as bad as theirs, and to feel bitter about that.

I can definitely see that you are suffering. I saw the anger and hatred you pass to others on your blog. It seems like you're in a lot of pain, but that doesn't mean it's okay to bully others online. Which is essentially what you're doing. It's possible it makes you feel powerful in some way to cause others pain. And your feelings of anger are valid, but your behaviour definitely isn't. I hope that you heal. I truly do. And I hope that you can learn to put your anger where it belongs, and that is on the people who hurt you, not other trauma survivors.

(Also, I will say that even if someone does seek out trauma in some regard, that's likely a result from having experienced trauma in the past, and they are still valid.)

Edit to add: I had an anon tell me they couldn't block people online because they were a child and these people threatened to find them, and being a child, they really believed the threats and were terrified. There are so many reasons someone may not be able to just "block" someone. Let's also not forget that people really focused on bullying or abusing someone online, likely won't let a block option stop them.

#tw hate #tw invalidation #tw abuse #tw sa #tw csa #tw child abuse #tw online abuse #tw trauma details #sorry #i realize i probably shouldn't reply to this #but i feel really strongly about this

[1autistictacticalrefrigerator]

Beach day beach day beach day soapghost 🥳🥳

(Also this is to compensate for the previous SoapGhost fic I never finished! 🫵😎)

——————————————————————————————————

The 141 decides to go to beach for their leave, since it’s the summer, and they hardly had spent enough time with each other like this. The beach was out in the sea, and it didn’t have much surveillance or tidying since not many people go there. It was shoddy, but the guys had the place all to themselves which was all that mattered.

Soap had been out swimming when he felt something brush past him, it was most definitely a shark. Soap’s been through a lot, but sharks? This was his time off, he’s literally 95% naked, no protective gear on, in the water. He hated sharks, when he was little, he’s heard of stories about people getting attacked by sharks too. It rattled him. Sharks were a whole new thing compared to bullets.

Soap panics. When someone panics, they can lose the capability to do even the simplest things, in this case, it’s staying afloat for Soap. He was already too far from shore, too far- can’t swim back..

Immediately Soap starts flailing his arms around, the shark- it brushed past his leg again- he didn’t want to get eaten- oh fuck.

…

In the distance, on the shore, Ghost saw abnormal activity coming from the waves far off in the distance. When he squints, his suspicion was answered.

“Johnny?” Ghost squints his eyes before they flew wide open. It was definitely Johnny. And he was drowning. Nobody was around to help- Price and Gaz were inside, so they couldn’t have noticed, Roach was at the bathroom presumably taking a large dump, Ale and Rudy? Nowhere to be found.

Immediately without a second thought, Ghost plunged into the water to chase after Soap. It’s only when he pulled Soap to safety he realizes his body abandoned all sense and his primal instinct was.. not what he expected.

Doesn’t matter. Johnny is safe.

…

After Ghost had saved Soap, Soap had felt obligated to pay Ghost back. Luckily for Soap, he didn’t have to wait long. During a mission gone wrong, Ghost had gotten shot and mildly wounded. He refused to go to medical, and after a ton of pleading and convincing- Soap got to patch Ghost up. Soap was like his personal nurse that week, constantly hanging around Ghost and caring for him. Ghost was touched by the gesture.

Ghost wasn’t recovering as fast as Soap hoped though, and soon Soap found out why; Ghost couldn’t sleep.

Of course. Soap thought.

Soap usually left Ghost alone not wanting to bother him too much, but he had no idea how much Ghost needed his warmth. So on a cold Thursday night, Soap found Ghost having a particularly bad nightmare. Almost by instinct, Soap tried to back out of the room because he saw Ghost without his mask on, but upon second glance, he changes his mind and stays.

Without Ghost, the tough exterior that houses the fragile Simon within, Ghost without the mask looked like a broken man, someone who doesn’t deserve what life has thrown at him from such a early age at all. Because Ghost doesn’t show fear. Simon does.

It’s little moments like this that make Soap feel special and lucky. He quietly tucks himself into bed along with Simon, who was in obvious distress, ragged breathing from his haunting dreams. Soap gently starts stroking Simon’s hair, whispering softly, “It’s going to be alright, Simon.” “It’s me, Johnny. I’m here.” “Nothing will ever hurt you ever again, I won’t let it.”

And in truth, the last sentence wasn’t just for comfort. It was Soap’s vow to the world, that no one could break someone already so broken in Soap’s watch. Never again. Not as long as he still has a drop of blood in his body.

When Simon’s breathing calmed down, Soap tries to pull his hand away to let Ghost rest, only to find a hand grabbing Soap’s. It was Simon, clutching onto Soap’s hand in his sleep like a lifeline.

Simon wanted Soap to stay. He wanted Soap to stay.

Soap couldn’t suppress the smile that formed on his lips.. the big bad Ghost needs him. Well thats not a opportunity that comes around everyday. So Soap slips back into the sheets, cuddling Simon close before drifting off to sleep himself.

Soap knew who he’d dream of that night.

Fin.

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #beachday #beach

[g33se]

Playing bg3 right now. Got to the point with the druids and the tiefling city. A couple of opinions about the party:

Lae'zel: I liked her a lot when I met her first (competent, straightforward, my type of girl) but she's being very rude about the tieflings. Given that I'm playing a tiefling... well. Not keen on the way she compared us to cockroaches or the way she made the tiefling bow- granted the tieflings did have reason to want to stab her. So liking her quite a bit less now. Still, looking at her respectfully. She is hot.

Shadowheart: Never really liked elves all that much. Not super keen on the way she did a racism at Lae'zel as soon as we met her, but the moments of emotional vulnerability have me liking her a lot more.

Astarion: Stupid loser bastard. That man is clearly a vampire- I mean, look at the eyes/teeth/the literal VAMPIRE BITE on his neck and the ten thousand clues he's been dropping. Sexy of him to greet me by holding a knife to my neck I thought he was going to rob me. He's such a fucking idiot I want to jump his bones.

Gale: This man has bard energy. At least, the way I play bards. Also kind of single dad energy? Just a random wizard running around. Just a Dude, if you will. Had to put him back in the campsite since I'm a sorcerer and party comp will get fucked though.

Wyll: Thought he was a paladin at first. Then he started doing warlocky things. I like how he acts it's a nonstandard edgy warlock thing, I hope his storyline pans out well. Really like his back-and-forth with Lae'zel about ever doing nice things with her life. Immediately taken with the fight scene I saw him in first, looked fucking epic.

Overall, I really love Mind Flayers. They're fucking cool, that little starter scene when I converted a woman into one was fucking nightmare fuel. I did see the button saying perfect and press it knowing what it would probably mean. What the hell were they doing in Avernus though. And isn't Zariel the angel who fell because she wanted to kill demons with GREAT PREJUDICE?

I've also been save scumming whenever I steal stuff a lot because, habit. I just want to collect all the boxes and put them into the campsite. Also reloaded the same save three times because I wanted Asterion to take that one potato off a crying guard. (Probably going to try to see if I can do a revivify on the dead guard later? I don't know if the game has the 1 min timer on revivify or not.) Also I do like how yoinking just makes people do 'hey wtf' or 'you're getting arrested' because instantly trying to kill the party is. Weird.

Also reloaded the save once because I couldn't revivify Shadowheart because she died on stairs that were on fire. I know how to play dnd I just have a hard time conceptualizing it with game graphics.

Lower level dnd's always interesting. The take action to restore someone else at 1hp is also... inspired. Would be interested to see normal downing rules- that would force me to think in more dnd terms to play the game. I also keep clicking wrong and wasting attacks on the space right next to a person.

Weird how everyone can use scrolls.

I hate the 1/short rest mage hand it's a fucking cantrip and it can do, like, nothing. Going to download a mod for it later.

Going to have to use the speak with dead amulet a lot I hope. I love that spell. Not quite sure how I feel about your camp being a separate room- I feel like it trivializes inventory management and sending things there is. Weird. Where is all the weight going. I do like stacking all the boxes I find though.

Thought the Absolute people were part of a mind flayer cult so had to kill a few of them.

Current leader druid is a bit cringe. Don't want to kill her but definitely ousting her asap. Stop being a dick to my people (tieflings). Also really liking the tiefling responses so far.

Also wonder at the deal about the tiefling village. They seem to have a lot of hell stuff going on there.

Anyway, this is cool! Looking forward to what happens next.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #shadowheart #gale #wyll #lae'zel #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion

[howthekriffdidigethere]

Wish Come True.

Chapter 6: Center of Attention.

(TW: implications of a nightmare, and claustrophobia. Talks about a headache and some abuse...think that's it! Let me know if I missed anything!)

I awoke with a gasp, shooting up in my bed with wide eyes.

Except, as I looked around, I realized it wasn't my bed. And not my room, or my home.

Memories from the day before came back to me slowly, and I sighed.

"Guess it's really not a dream..." I mumbling, feeling a pang in my heart.

I shook off the feeling and stood up, rubbing the sleep from eyes and shrugging off the nightmare that was already fading.

I found a mirror and quickly fixed my appearance the best I could with no appliances or tools.

All that I had with me was the clothes I was wearing, black leggings, an over sized grey hoodie, a pair of white, high-top Converse, and two hair ties, one on my wrist, the other in my dark brown hair.

Redoing my ponytail and fixing my curtain bangs, I walked away from the mirror and out of the door, going to the room Cody and I ate at last night.

There was only one other room in the little barrack, and it was just a bathroom, but Cody wasn't in any of them.

I called out for him but there was no answer. The Commander wasn't in his room, and I was alone.

I huffed and decided to go through the few drawers and the little closet there was in the bedroom.

I didn't know who this guy was, and he left me alone, so I'm going to have an unwarranted search. Just to be safe.

Going through his things, I found and little knife, almost like a pocket knife. I took it and hooked it on the waistband of my leggings.

There was a device that looked like a tablet of some sort, but I couldn't turn it on.

Throwing that aside, I continued my search, but didn't find anything else of importance really, besides a backpack that I decided could be useful and took that as well.

A few minutes later, I was opening the main door and heading out.

I crept down the hall, stopping and hiding when there was someone else was coming my way. I didn't know if they would stop me or not.

It took a while, but I made it outside.

It was strange. I'd never been to a big city before, my hometown was broken down, but there was another town just north of it, that's where all the rich people lived, and where the hospital was, and that was the only other place I'd been. Both of the towns shriveled in comparison to what was ahead of me.

I was terribly small compared to all these buildings. It was a wonder how everyone managed to get around town and not get lost every day.

I was still in awe of the whole view, but made sure not to let it show, it'd make me look more vulnerable and I couldn't risk that.

I started to walk down various streets, making sure to not stand out and watching everyone around me.

No one payed any mind to me, which was good. I didn't want to have more attention on me.

Everyone seemed busy. Like they didn't have time to even notice some kid wandering the streets. They probably didn't have the time actually.

I never liked the idea of cities. Too many buildings and people, not enough space. But I couldn't deny it was nice to not be looked at. In my town, all eyes would be on some stranger walking around, and that's definitely not what I want.

There were a few drunks stumbling around, but they were easy to avoid. If one got too close and decided to stick around, I could easily trip them and it would look like they just fell over themselves.

'No attention. No ones watching.'

This was the first time I felt like I wasn't being watched since I got here, which was strange, but I welcomed the feeling.

I needed the space to try and clear my head, think things through. Nothing made sense anymore.

'Why do I want to go back? There's nothing there for me.'

I couldn't decide if I actually wanted to be here, even if it's what I had wished for since I first got my hands on a movie. But now that I was here, it didn't feel right...

That's what I kept telling myself, but... what about mom? I had to take care of her and make sure she actually ate and payed the bills so she could keep home. Jake wouldn't do it, he'd just steal what little money she has. Tommy and Austin just act like we don't exist anyway. She needs me.

'She uses you.'

No. No, she cares. She has to. She's just been down in the dumps since dad left.

'That was ten years ago.' My own voice whispered to myself inside my head.

I sighed. It had been ten years... but he only died four years ago. She's still coping...

'Her coping mechanism involves blaming you... she probably doesn't even realize you're gone.'

My fists clenched and I stopped walking, looking down.

That voice in my head was right. Even if she has noticed, she probably doesn't care. In her eyes, its just getting rid of a problem.

I cursed and shook my head. 'No, no, she cares. She has to. I'm her daughter...'

But I can't go back. Not now. I can learn some things here, go back and have a better chance at giving her a good life.

Yeah... that's what I'll do. It's the best option...

************

Hours passed and I was still wandering the streets. I'd been putting the paths to my memory, incase something happened and I needed to run.

I currently had three escape routes.

"Fae! Holy kriff, there you are!" The clone from yesterday, Tup, came running up, along with Fives as I neared the clone barracks.

"We've been looking for you everywhere." Fives exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

I shrugged. "Around. Here and there. Just looking at the city."

Fives huffed and looked at the backpack I had. "Did you take that from the Commander?"

I nodded. "Didn't seem like he was using it so...yeah."

Fives chuckled and shook his head. "Well, aren't you a piece of work–"

"Cody's pissed." Tup cut in. "Apparently you have a meeting or something and now you're late. He came back to his barracks and you were gone."

I crossed my arms. "Well, he's the one who left me alone without saying anything. What's the meeting anyway?"

"Its with the Jedi Council." Fives answered. "They want to discuss your...case. Whatever that is..."

I blinked. Oh shit.

"Uh...I should probably be heading that way then." I responded quickly.

Tup nodded. "Cody's at the Temple, we'll take you to him, but we gotta hurry."

I nodded at him and we quickly started torwards the Temple.

Anxiety started to flare up in my chest, making my hands shake. This meeting would decide my future. And I'm late to it.

I was worried at what might happen now. Would they be angry? Would I get punished? Is that even how things work around here?

Somehow, in the midst of my internal panic, the walk had gone by fast, and we were at the Jedi Temple.

Cody hurried to meet us. "Where the hell were you?!"

I swallowed and tried not to flinch or seem bothered by his yell. "I went into the city. I didn't know where you went."

He sighed frustratedly, "You left alone? You don't even know a thing about this place!"

"Yeah, so I'd thought I'd make myself acquainted with the area." I answered with a shrug.

Cody rolled his eyes. "We'll discuss this later. We need to go now."

I merely nodded and started walking as he bid goodbye to Tup and Fives, who were still confused about who I was.

The time blurred and soon, I was standing infront of the jedi masters, who were all giving each other side glances.

I met Obi-Wans eyes and he gave me a small encouraging smile, along with a nod.

"So, whats your full name?" Jedi Master Mace Windu asked, looking a little angry, but something told me that was how he always looked.

I stood in the middle of the room and replied with a calm, neutral tone. "Fae Madison Miller."

"What planet are you from?" Master Windu asked again.

"Earth, Sir."

"Nervous, you are. Scared, even. Why?" Master Yoda spoke, apparently noticing my shakiness despite my best efforts to hide it.

I turned my gaze to the little, green Jedi. "I don't know." I lied.

The jedi tilted his head, and I swear I saw a ghost of a grin on his face.

He knew I was lying. But he didn't care. If anything, he found it amusing.

"Hmm," Mace again, sounding judgemental as ever. "Obi-Wan here says you remember us from a... show. Can you tell us more about it?" He asked, but I could tell he wasn't actually asking.

"From what I can remember, the franchise was called Star Wars, but the show that focused more on you, was The Clone Wars, and really it focused a lot more on the actual clones." I started, keeping calm though his attitude irked me.

"It showed battles, arguments in the Senate, bounty hunters, even showed things on the Separatists side. It displayed what people, jedi and clones included, had to face throughout the war. I know it showed how the war ended, but...I don't remember whether The Separatists or The Republic won." I finished.

Everyone was silent, I casted my gaze downwards, but I could feel most eyes were on me.

"When we first discussed this," Obi-Wan spoke finally, hoping to aid my discomfort. "You describe Umbara with incredible accuracy. Are there more battles that you could describe?"

"Maybe." I shrugged. "I don't know, but I could try, I guess."

"Alright...The Citadel mission."

I thought for a second, pushing my mind to recall the event before beginning after a moment.

"It was a rescue mission for jedi Master Even Piell, and his crew." I started slowly. "You and Anakin Skywalker took some of your men from the 212th and the 501st, including Echo, who later died in an explosion trying to get to the ship to get off the planet." I paused, not sure who Echo was.

The name was... familiar, and I knew he was a clone, but everything else was...fuzzy.

"Ahsoka Tano was told not to go on the mission but snuck on anyway and then lied saying that Master Plo had given her permission to go, which he hadn't, but it was a good thing she went because when Master Piell was killed he gave the her the information about the Nexus hyperspace route." I continued hesitantly, hoping I'm getting the information right. "It... was a very difficult mission, but you got out and got the information. There's a few other things that I remember but they're hazy."

"...She's right. She described the mission almost perfectly." Obi-Wan said in astonishment after a moment of silence, eyes widening.

"Much to discuss, we do. Leave, you may, young Fae." Master Yoda said to me, nodding.

I bowed my head in respect and turned to leave when Master Plo called my name.

"What about the mission on Onderon? What do you know about it?"

I turned back around, raising a brow. "Onderon?"

He nodded, glancing at the other members of the Council. "Yes...What happens?"

I looked down, brows furrowing in deep concentration. It has harder remember this mission for some reason, but I could make out a few details.

"I...can't remember much. But...The name Saw Gerrara comes to mind. And Stella."

"Do you know what the outcome of the mission is, Miller?" Master Windu leaned forward in his seat, as did other jedi masters.

I swallowed and tried to push deeper into my mind for the answer. "It...Its...No. I can't remember."

Windu hummed, eyes narrowing. "Are you sure?"

I swallowed and closed my eyes, trying to remember, but was met with a sharp stab of pain in my head.

I winced and my eyes snapped open. I grabbed the side of my head and waited a few moments to catch my breath, which was suddenly very hard to do. "S-Sorry... I can't think of it."

Kenobi frowned and stood up, coming to me. "Whats the matter, young one?"

I blinked away a few black spots in my vision and shook my head, straightening. "Nothing. Sorry, just a headache."

He glanced at Master Yoda then nodded and turned back to me. "Go back to Cody. I will find you later." He ushered me out and shut the door.

I sighed and turned to find Cody waiting for me.

"How'd it go?" He asked, seeming to have calmed down from earlier.

I shrugged, walking to his side. "Fine, I guess. That Windu guy is strange though."

He chuckled. "Thats one way to put it. He's a good leader, however."

I scoffed. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Cody glanced at me as we started to leave. "You're not very... trusting, are you?"

I mumbled, "What ever gave you that idea?"

He sighed. "Well, I'm guessing earlier, you were looking for ways to escape if you needed to. That's why you were 'getting familiar with the area'. You were scouting for an escape route."

I glanced away and signed. "Maybe... whats it matter to you?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Just curious on why you're so set on having a way out."

"If you think I'm planning something, you're wrong." I stopped and looked at him. "I'm just cautious."

Cody stopped walking as well and looked back at me. "But why? It's safe here, and we haven't done anything to make you not trust us."

"You haven't really done anything to make me trust you either." I retorted. "It goes both ways."

He glanced me over and chuckled. "Fair enough, kid. Look, I'll try and earn your trust, if you don't go on anymore scouting missions alone, or, atleast before telling someone."

I thought about it for a moment then nodded. "Seems reasonable enough. Deal."

Cody smirked and started walking again, "Well, then, any tips on how I can get you to trust me?"

I shrugged. "Not really. I haven't trusted someone in a long time, so you might struggle with it."

Cody seemed to think for a moment. "Well, I...I'll find a way to earn it. Somehow."

I raised a brow. "Why are you so set on getting me to trust you?"

"Well, I figure we might be working together in the future if all goes well, and everyone needs someone to trust." He explained as we left the temple.

I chuckled and shook my head. "I haven't trusted someone in years, you don't really need it. It just makes a few things easier."

Cody hums. "Right..." He went to speak some more, but his comm beeped, cutting him off.

"Excuse me, let me answer this." He stepped to the side and answered, talking low so I couldn't hear.

I paused and waited for him, glancing around. There were children walking around, laughing and giggling.

I rolled my eyes and just glanced away, looking up when Cody came back.

"Well, good news, kid." He started. "I've got some people you need to meet, they might be able to help you."

My brows furrowed. "But I thought the Council were the only ones I needed to talk to..."

He shook his head. "These guys might help in a different way. General Kenobi asked for them."

I nodded slowly. "Okay...I'm guessing I don't have much of a choice?"

Cody chuckled and shook his head. "You do, but it'd be better if you listened to me."

I stared at him for a moment before sighing, "Fine, whatever. Let's just go."

He nodded and started to walk, making sure I was following.

"They're...interesting." He started. "Just a warning. Try not to let what they say get to you."

I huffed and rolled my eyes. "I doubt it will, but yeah, thanks."

We arrived to a small, almost hidden hanger in a short time and just waited. No words were exchanged, but I wasn't complaining. I didn't feel like talking.

A few minutes later, a ship came in at a speed that cannot be safe, flying straight torwards us.

"Not again." Cody groaned, and pushed me behind him, shielding me from the dust and who knows what else, flying in the air.

I covered my eyes and coughed. "Who the hell is flying that thing???"

"Tech, more than likely. He's a talented pilot, but he doesn't know what a 'slow landing' is. He also likes to show off." Cody explained, straightening his back, and started walking towards the, now landed, ship.

"Yeah, cause nearly killing someone is a great first impression." I mumbled, following behind Cody.

The ships ramp opened and a man in clone armor came out, walking slowly. He had his helmet off, so I could see his face.

He had brown hair that fell just above his shoulders, and a red bandana, decorated with a small skull on the left side, the same brown eyes that Cody and Rex had, and a half skull tattooed on the left side of his face.

I narrowed my eyes slightly as I observed him, but quickly widened them again in shock when the next one stepped out.

The guy was huge! He was super tall and muscular, shoulders square. He had a webbed scar that covered his left ear and spread to his eye, that looked like it was cybernetic, and was sporting a grin.

Did I mention he's huge?

Cause this dude looked like he could throw me across twenty football fields without even putting in effort.

The next one out was thin but tall, had silver hair that looked to be the perfect length to be curly, a defined jaw-line, with a toothpick in his mouth and a crosshair tattoo over his right eye.

'What is it with these guys and face tattoos?' I mentally asked and forced myself not to roll my eyes.

Mr. Skull Face and Cody walked towards each other and did a weird handshake thing as a greeting, and this time I couldn't suppress the eye roll.

"Sargeant Hunter." Cody nodded at him.

"Commander." Hunter responded. "Sorry for the delay, we had to stop for fuel. Wrecker forgot to check... again."

"Hey! I've only done that one time!" The giant, Wrecker, argued.

"Now makes two." Toothpick said plainly, clearly unamused.

"Where's Tech?" Cody asked Hunter, choosing to ignore the small argument.

"Right here." A forth clone came out of the ship, this one with his helmet on. He was skinner than normal clones, but not as skinny as Toothpick, but they seemed the same height.

I couldn't really tell much else except his helmet had more gear and his eyes were glued to a device in his hands.

"Apologizes, I had to shut down the Marauders system. Wrecker was supposed to assist me." 'Tech' sent a subtle glare towards his brother.

"Sorry, I wanted to meet the kid! And you were taking too long!" Wrecker apologized, bouncing back and forth on his legs, voice booming.

"Speaking of the kid," Cody butted in before things could escalate, and looked at me, "Fae, this is The Bad Batch."

All their eyes turned to me.

'Ugh, why am I center of attention again?'

I offered a small nod and wave but just continued to observe them silently.

"Ahaha, she's tiny!" Wrecker exclaimed, pushing Toothpick a little too hard.

The lanky clone hissed. "Cut it out."

Wrecker laughed and nudged him. "Why? Does this bother you?"

Toothpick glared. "Touch me again, and I'll use Lula as target practice."

That made the big guy shut up immediately, eyes widening in horror.

"Crosshair, enough." Hunter cut in, giving him a look. "And Wrecker, leave him alone for now."

Wrecker pouted but nodded, while Crosshair just smirked.

Hunter sighed and turned back to me. "Sorry for them."

I shrugged, talking quietly. "Its fine, not like I care."

Hunter shared a look with Cody, brow raised. "Right..."

Cody chuckled slightly. "She hasn't exactly warmed up to this place yet."

I scoffed and crossed my arms but didn't say a word.

Cody shot me a pointed look. "Anyways...We should get started."

"What are we doing exactly?" I asked, voice slightly annoyed.

Cody suppressed a sigh and looked at me. "Tech is going to ask you some questions, try and figure out what happened and how you got here."

I nodded slowly and glanced to Tech, who was hardly paying any attention. "Fine..."

Cody just nodded and put a hand on my shoulder, looking to the Sargeant. "Let's take this to The Marauder."

He nodded and started to walk back to the ship, the other three following.

I started but was pulled back by Cody.

I looked up at him, "What is it?"

He sighed, voice low. "Just...I know you're not trusting, but just try to be nice..."

I gave him a look then huffed. "Yeah, okay, whatever."

He hesitated then nodded and started to walk. "Come on, lets get this done."

I sighed and followed him aboard reluctantly.

The Marauder wasn't a big ship. At all.

'How do four people practically live on here?'

"You can sit over there." Tech told me, again not looking away from the datapad, "I'll be done in a moment, then I'll ask some questions."

"Okay..." I murmed, glancing at Cody before moving and sitting down.

I glanced around and saw the rest of the Batch sitting around the small room.

The silence that followed was awkward, but thankfully it was broken by Techs voice cutting through them, "Alright, I'm ready to get started. If you are, that is."

He had taken off his helmet now, so I could actually see his face. He wore goggles and had the same color eyes as every clone, his hair was a little lighter color than the others, however.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I'm ready." I mumbled after a moment of studying him.

"Good. I'm gonna ask questions about you, your past and your memories, I need you to answer them the best you can. Even the ones you don't want to. If you want me to help, then I need you to tell the entire truth." Tech explained, actually looking me in the eye for the first time.

"Alright." I said, rubbing my hands together, sitting back against the chair.

"Okay, we'll start with something easy, but nevertheless, important." He typed a few things then spoke. "Whats your name, and how old are you?"

"Fae Miller, and I'm fourteen." That was easy enough.

"Parents name?" He asked.

"Jewlia Miller and Oliver Miller."

"Any siblings?"

"Yes, three older brothers. Jake, who is 17, Austin, who is 24, and Thomas, who's 28."

"Are you close with any of them?" His eyes were back on the device, typing.

"No. They all hate me."

"What about your parents?" More typing.

"Not really, I live with my mom, but our relationship isn't good, we fight a lot. My dad," I stopped and cleared my throat. "Him and mom split when I was four. I saw him on and off for a while, but it never went well...he's dead now. Drunk driving incident. It happened when I was ten."

Tech hesitated for a moment, but quickly recovered and continued typing, "Friends?"

"I've had one over the years, but she didn't stay long. About two years." I explained.

"Alright, now, I need you to tell me everything you remember from the day before you ended up here." He looked up again to look me in the eyes.

"I watched TV, went to town, got some food, fought some guys, helped a kid, snuck back home, got caught and ran into the woods and slept under a tree." I stated blandly, shrugging.

Tech hummed, thinking deeply, before moving onto the next question.

The questions continued back and forth, there were so many I could hardly keep track.

My head started to hurt with how many I was answering, especially when it started to get to what I remember.

The sharp pain kept growing, until I could barely focus, my vision going fuzzy and breathing getting shallow.

I heard someone calling my name, but I couldn't answer. The world was spinning, I couldn't focus or even see anymore.

"Fae." The voice called, shaking me. "Cmon kid, talk to me."

"Cody...?" I mumbled, slowly feeling myself come back to reality.

"I'm here, kid." He answered. "Right here, open your eyes, okay?"

I listened after a moment, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. I was sitting down still, but was being held up by Cody, who now sat at my right.

"What...What happened?" I asked, brows furrowing.

"Apparently the questions I was asking were too much for your mind at the moment." Tech responded, still infront of me. "You became drowsy, almost tired, slowly not making any sense, before you slumped forward and passed out."

I blinked. "I...I passed out? Really? That...Didn't feel like passing out..."

Tech tilted his head. "What did it feel like then?"

I thought for a moment, "Like... that place between being awake, and being asleep. Just...In the grey area." I paused for a second. "The last question I remember you asking me was about what I did the day before I came here..."

Tech hummed, "Interesting."

"What is it, Tech?" Cody asked from beside me.

Tech stood, typing more at his device. "It appears something is blocking certain memories of hers. The ones that would effect how we live in the moment." He glanced at me. "Tell me, what do you know about the planet Tatooine?"

My brows furrowed more and I frowned. "Nothing... Wait, isn't that where I was found?"

Everyone's eyes in the room seem to widen, except Techs, who did not seem shocked or surprised by my words.

"Precisely what I thought would happen. And no, you were found on Florrum" He raised a finger in the air. "Before, you were able to tell me Tatooine was where Anakin Skywalker grew up in slavery, and where Jabba the Hutt rules. You were about to say something about a...Luke, but then you passed out."

I frowned deeply. "Anakin? Isn't that the guy I ran into earlier? And who's Luke?"

Cody sat back in disbelief. "You...really don't remember any of that?"

I shook my head. "N-No, I... Whats happening?"

Tech shrugged. "Whoever this 'Luke' is, must be important, for something forced whatever you were about to say out of the way, and now has blocked the memory."

I listened in shock. "I-I... how is that happening? I've never had issues with my memory before..."

Tech hesitated then sighed. "Unfortunately, I do not know. Nothing makes sense... there could be tests done to look at your mind but I do not have the equipment and I am assuming you do not want that."

I swallowed and nodded, just looking down.

"So...whats the next step?" Hunter spoke for the first time since we got here.

"Try to avoid talking about things we are not meant to know." Tech answered. "It will take time to realize what those things are, but anything about our futures should be out of the question."

I felt Cody nod. "I'll tell General Kenobi. Thank you, Tech."

"Of course, Commander." Tech turned and walked off, still on his little tablet.

"For now," Cody continued as Tech left. "Stay close. We're done for tonight, but we may need you all again."

"We'll be here, Commander." Hunter told him, nodding.

Cody turned to me and gently helped me stand. "Time to go, kid...You should probably rest."

I just nodded my head, still in shock. "Yeah...Okay..."

I felt their eyes on me but I ignored it as we walked out, too caught up in everything Tech had told me.

As Cody and I caught a taxi to take us to the barracks, one thing kept coming to mind.

'What's happening to me?'

#star wars #the bad batch #the clones #writing #clone wars #wish come true #tbb

[once-was-muses]

[ I don't know how to the preface this otherwise, but in the hopes of not getting more anonymous questions about my recent hiatus and the personal issues that lead to it I'll leave a list for the asker(s) to read at their leisire. I will only mention the things I'm comfortable and willing to, and- unless something in regards to both the situation and my own feelings change- I will not be addressing any part of it publicly in any way going forward. ]

[ No one has any obligation to pity me or even read this. I don’t know what to tag this as- it doesn't really contain any of the typical triggers- so please exercise caution if you decide to read anyhow. Readmore-ed for the sake of not taking up too much of the dash. I am going to be inactive for a few hours at least as this was difficult to type out, but I'm fine and I will be fine- I know saying "don't worry" doesn't necessarily stop anxiety, but I will reassure as such anyhow. ]

I have memory issues. Part of them is definitely due to ADHD, but it doesn't seem like that's the only cause. Whatever the whole problem is, my memory started failing more and more towards the middle of last year, seeming the worst I could remember them being in November-early December. Obviously since I have memory issues, I can't say for certain that they had actually reached the worst they'd been as I have no solid recollections to compare with. This point lead to, or exacerbated a few others on this list.

Towards the beginning of last year I think it was, my suspicions of being aromantic reached a peak and I decided to try the label on. I was in a relationship at the time, and I was transparent about it with my then-partner (still tied as best friend with the members of our mutual real life friend group.) I told him I fully understood if he wanted a mutually romantic partner, and a few days later he told me he did and we returned to just friends. Months later, I'm having doubts about being aro again; I think what I experience is a mixture of my autism and personal problems with romance that I need to unpack on my own. What upsets me most about this point is that I seem incapable of starting that conversation with him as I feel he deserves out of respect, and it feels like I'm disrespecting him furthermore by being afraid when he's done nothing to justify that in the almost 10 years I've known him.

Related to the above point; when I told another friend outside of Tumblr and real life circles that I think I might be aromantic, I discovered firsthand that they're aphobic. For over five years now, I never knew them to be bigoted in any way. Obviously I've cut all ties with them.

Both my mother and grandfather have had multiple health scares last year- some were preexisting for my grandfather, but the three with my mother are all very new. All are being treated and handled well, but that won't stop my anxiety from trying to convince me otherwise.

During that aforementioned November-December period, I was extremely paranoid of forgetting things and kept feeling like I'd forgotten something important I'd promised to do for someone. To my knowledge, I hadn't, but I was thoroughly convinced.

Worth mentioning as a preface for this point that I rarely remember my dreams, and have some kind of disorder that effects my ability to reach REM sleep in the first place. Also during that period, I had a number of vivid but realistic nightmares that I couldn't remember were only nightmares. I hesitate in fear of sounding overdramatic, but for a couple weeks I more or less had false memories. I still can't place if some things did actually happen. This has happened before, but I've always been able to dismiss things as dreams before.

Once more during this period, I had managed to forget the identities of some individuals in part responsible for some actually substantial drama (meaning beyond the typical petty things most see), also involving two now former friends. I made another mistake in panicking when confronted with screenshots I wasn't in of a server neither of them were in and reacted closed off and reluctant to share any information one way or the other. I absolutely will not be divulging anything about the pair. Regardless of my feelings or want to apologize, I respect that I hurt them and their desire not to speak with me anymore- and especially their privacy.

I have been stalked out of a different rpc years before I entered this one. A member of that community that assisted in stalking me reached out around the same time as the above point. This is small and it's stupid that it had the effect on me that it did, but I figure it's related and thus worth mentioning.

Several of my co-workers left last year, revealing some not great practices going on behind the scenes of what is essentially my ideal job and one I wanted since I was a kid. I still have the job, and while I haven't experienced any of the issues firsthand to my knowledge- none were extreme or too bad, but the fact anyone was mistreated upsets me- I still feel guilty occasionally for not only keeping the position but enjoying it. I can't remember exactly what some of the mistreatments were, either, which makes me feel all the more guilty.

One of our regulars at my job died in the building last year. I didn't know of the fact until the next day despite interacting with that regular at least three times I can remember the day they died. There have also been a number of emergencies regarding patrons in a comparatively short span of time this last month. I am incapable of worrying about myself, and thus my anxiety has latched onto the wellbeing of my coworkers.

#They Pull the Strings : OOC