#and this is WEIRD and ABNORMAL and TERRIFYING and I would like it in my time capsule | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 7 months

Note

hi love! i have a request in mind. i read your guidelines and saw you’re not writing smut atm so just want to clarify that that’s not what this is!! i was wondering if you could write something where reader has abnormal pain during sex? and it’s just the conversation either before trying (thinking it will be awful and she’ll get rejected) or right after (and not having bad success for that first time). the reassurance of it would be wonderful to read, especially in your voice! as for the character, i’d love either joel or hotch! whatever comes easier <3 love ya jade

hi lovely, hope this is ok!! fem, 1k

cw suggestive/adult themes, mdni

"Am I doing something you don't like?" Aaron asks quietly.

You sigh and turn your face from his kiss, skin aflame. It was a matter of time before he read your hesitancy, but you'd hoped to power through. This is the dealbreaker for some guys. You're especially terrified of Aaron's rejection in particular.

"It's not you," you murmur.

He drops his hand from your shoulder to your thigh, far from anywhere intimate but a heart-skipping touch regardless. "No?" he asks, matching your murmur. "We don't have to go any further. I misread you, honey. I'm sorry."

"You didn't. It's… I want to," you say, pitch heightening and weakening at the same time, almost raw. "I really, really want to, but it's–" You look down at his chest. "It's embarrassing."

"Oh." He clears his throat. "I'm not young. I promise, I know the reality of a woman's body–"

You laugh unexpectedly, "No need to brag."

"What I'm trying to say is that I know what real women look like. I'm not expecting you to be a two sheet spread."

"Aaron, that's really sweet, but it's not what I'm struggling with."

"Sorry," he says. He rubs your leg gently in apology. He looks embarrassed himself now, an odd expression on him, but reassuring in a way.

"I have this thing. Sex," —your voice sounds weird, fraught with nerves— "can be really painful for me. Sometimes I can't do it because it hurts, and I don't want to lead you on when it might not, uh, work."

Aaron holds his silence. You rush to fill it.

"We can still try, I'm not saying I can't have sex with you, I know that for most guys it's not something you want to go without and I get if that means I'm not right for you–"

Aaron takes your hand. "Hey, wait. Wait. Who says you're not right for me?"

"I just know sex is a big deal."

Aaron is full grown, and you should've expected this, but it still shocks you when he speaks without cringing, "I won't tell you I don't enjoy it, but having sex with you isn't the only thing I want from you. Honestly, it probably doesn't make the top one hundred."

"It's not that I can't…"

"Right. It hurts?" he asks.

Emboldened by his question, you squeeze his larger fingers between yours. "Yeah, it can hurt. Not always, but even if we take it slow I can't guarantee I'll enjoy it… The top one hundred, really?"

Aaron leans down slowly to kiss your cheek. "Really. I don't want to lie to you, I want you. But mostly to make you feel good."

His tone is quiet, measured, with a hint of hoarseness, and his breath fans warm over your skin. This is the very first time you've had this conversation and still wanted to try afterward, confident that the partner understands what you're saying.

"I probably should've told you before."

"You told me when you were ready, that's all I want from you." He kisses your cheek again, before his arm is woven across your shoulders and your face is hooked into the curve of his neck. "Thank you for letting me know."

"Aaron–" You laugh, the weight of your small secret finally lifted. "You just said thank you for my putting you in possibly the most awkward situation I could have when ten minutes ago you were giving me a hickey."

"I think I'm old enough to do both."

"All this focus on how old you are," you murmur, pressing your lips to his jaw. "You realise I barely think about it?"

True and untrue. He doesn't feel any older than you when he's kissing you into a tizzy, but he's handled this conversation with immense and reassuring maturity. It is so, so nice to have been able to talk about your problem without shame or disgust in the mix, and nice, too, to know he isn't expecting supermodel perfection under your clothes.

"I know you don't. It's hard not to think about sometimes, maybe you'll understand when you're older." He chuckles at his own joke as he pulls you close, leaning back in the couch cushions and encouraging you to rest the entirety of your weight on him. "Can I kiss you again?"

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, careful not to jab his chest with your elbows as you grow closer, closer. It's easier to kiss him knowing that no matter what happens, he doesn't mind. He understands.

"Thank you," you say against his lips.

"Stop. It's the very least I'd do for you." He kisses the corner of your mouth, covers your hand on his face with his own. "And… let me be crass, but when you say sex, you don't mean every aspect, do you?" Your eyes close as he pulls your nose against his. "I meant what I said earlier, about making you feel good."

You huff an amorous laugh, "Not every aspect, no… We can figure it out. Please?"

"Let's make something very clear, honey. You don't have to say please to me. Not about this."

It means the world to you that after everything, this mess of conversation and flirting alike, you can wrap your arms around him for a hug and be received like it's the one thing Aaron was waiting for. His arms slide behind your back, one hand curled against the curve of your waist and the other stretched broad between your shoulder blades.

"If it makes you feel better, I have a mole shaped like Louisiana on my stomach," he mumbles. "I didn't know how to bring it up."

It's not that funny, but paired with your adrenaline rush and the comfort of his arms, you burst out laughing. Aaron joins in with his high-pitched laugh, so unlike his usual dulcet tone, and that makes it worse. You laugh so much you almost forget what you were doing before. Then he touches the small of your back under your shirt, and you remember.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

973 notes · View notes

kaltacore · 3 months

Text

no but essek's abnormal behaviours in the last arc and especially in episode 140 are my roman empire. which is ironic because aeor is something of a roman empire itself. but in all seriousness, it was the episode that made me realise i love essek and his development so much and it kinda summarised it even before caleb's epilogue.

and i mean the "it's not fair" scene specifically. it's like, an epitome of his whole character progression from a person who put An Objectively Important Goal above all else without hesitation to someone who can't help but care for people around even more than his goal, no matter how big and relevant it is.

the mighty nein - and he alongside them - pretty much saved the world and freed an ancient city from thousand-year-long suffering. they defeated nine extremely powerful menacing entities who managed to stay out of everyone's sight for years and were so close to achieving their goal and dooming exandria in the process. they did the impossible and became heroes and somehow, they survived, even though they had bidden farewells a couple of hours ago because they had already understood what they had been facing. and nevertheless. they made it.

and none of them was celebrating.

mighty nein are basically essek's only friends. he knew them to be very unusual people, to put it lightly, loud and stubborn and completely inescapable once they consider you to be one of their own. and they showed him so much kindness and put so much faith in him, they were here playing the most atrocious music ever and digging clay in his backyard for a spell they invented just to help one of theirs and asking him if he could bring them pastries the day after they found out he was lying to them and had started a war. they were chaotic and weird and sometimes unbearable but most importantly they were carrying so much hope with them all this time - a hope they could end the war, a hope they could stop the angel of irons cult, a hope they could get better, a hope he could get better, and now, finally, that they could save their lost friend.

and that hope shattered, just like that, the moments after they'd already made the impossible. they saved so many souls - and then could not get back just that one.

for essek "my intentions were never good they were important" thelyss it just. shouldn't have mattered. they won. it could have been worse. people die and when they die they rarely come back. they should've been happy everyone else barely made it alive.

but for some reason, mighty nein being so defeated after they saved the world exposed him to that overwhelming feeling of injustice and unfairness. and i mean, there were many things essek considered to be unfair, but when i watched his first appearance and his interactions with mighty nein later on til their reunion in aeor arc, i wouldn't dare to guess that one of the things on that list would be something that personal. and personal not even to him.

the thing is, essek didn't even know who that guy was. why mighty nein cared about him so much. he had an idea, i guess, that he was their friend once, or someone in that body was. it was also a person who wanted to unleash a terrifying horrific aberration onto the material plane. it was a person very dedicated to killing essek and his friends - and they still didn't take any pleasure in fighting him. essek didn't feel strongly about lucien or molly, because he never knew them.

i don't think he mourned his death and failed resurrection. he mourned mighty nein's hope, the one they put in him when they had no reason to, the one they offered yasha in the cathedral and the one they kept after the spell for veth failed and the one they carried til the very end because they wanted it to reach molly. they had saved people with this hope. they had saved nations. they had saved the world. but they ended up feeling like it hadn't even been worth anything.

how desperate would it feel, witnessing people who for some reason always saw good in you when they absolutely shouldn't, who made literal miracles out of nothing, who ended wars and fought gods and tricked the hags and freed cities from horrors beyond anyone's comprehension purely because they thought it was the right thing to do and also loved their friends this much, silently crying over a dead body they couldn't bring back to life? how desperate would it feel to realise that with all your knowledge about time you dedicated your life to and threw away any principles for, you can't undo this? no one can. some things are left to fate alone and this time it wasn't kind to them. no matter how much good they did, they still got slapped in the face.

and it was, i think, such a genuine moment of empathy. like, essek is the character who prefers to put up a facade and act distant and self-composed but this time he just. walked away unable to watch this. the could only say to fjord that it wasn't fair. even when he was caught off guard in nicodranas he was able to explain himself and his motives to an extent even though he was a nervous wreck whose extra important plan went to hell the second the only people he cared about appeared. this time he had nothing to elaborate on. it just wasn't fair. it wasn't fair his friends didn't get what they wanted the most. it wasn't fair he couldn't do anything to make it right.

it is such a sad and beautiful and even cathartic scene because it is about person who started a war that destroyed so many lives - and then met this ragtag group of weirdos who saw a lonely stand-offish guy and said "hey, let's be friends!" and didn't even wait for him to answer. he saw them being serious and calculated and he saw them being ridiculous and extremely stupid, he saw their mistrust to outsiders and their loyalty to each other, he made spells with them and paid a visit to their hot tub, he ate their stale pastries and drank their hot chocolate mixed with whiskey, he was welcomed amongst them and in their wonderful home, both in xhorhas before they even found out what he had done and in the tower when they already knew - and then, he saw them mourning their loss, defeated and helpless, and he, a person who believed there were things more important than whole nations, let alone just one life, couldn't help but share the pain they felt. a pure display of compassion from someone who detached himself from it, who didn't believe he could grow into a better person capable of it again, but became one nonetheless without even realising it

#sorry. i cannot shut up about this. this scene stuck with me the moment i saw it and i just couldn't get it out of my head #i mean. i liked essek well enough. i just got attached to other characters more. but then 'it's not fair' happened and it sealed the deal #it was just. so beautiful. so sincere. so important for a character who just started to learn how to care about people #his reaction wasn't intentional. it didn't change anything. but it showed how humane he had become. how deeply he cared #mighty nein are no joke pal #they're gonna make you feel all these unknown emotions like sympathy and love and affection even when they're incredibly painful #essek experiencing closeness and attachment in all their forms. as something beautiful and something aching. is so important to me #they saved him because they had good hearts! and these good hearts sparked so much joy around them!#but if a good heart grants you an ability to experience joy so profoundly. it makes everything else feel like that #you get it. i hope you get it. anyway e140 did so much psychic damage on me i probably will never recover #in a good way mostly <3 but yeah. yeah. it makes me feel a little insane #the mighty nein #essek thelyss #critical role

307 notes · View notes

lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 11 months

Text

Big Sis | Yandere Junko and Mukuro

A Concept To Maybe Continue...

You knew something was different about your older sisters. According to others, sisters their age fought all the same…just not with high-grade weapons. Your sisters were Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba–The ever hated Despair Twins.

It was terrifying or it would be if you weren’t desensitized to the overwhelmingly radical personalities. Oddly enough you're usually not on the receiving end of their despairful escapades. Instead forced to be smothered by your sisters' obsessive and possessive tendencies. That made you an unwilling bystander to their crimes.

Mukuro was the better one, more inclined to be a nurturing older sister. Scratch that, she essentially instated herself as your motherly figure. Using the skills she was naturally inclined to as the ultimate super soldier to take over most of your needs. From infancy to junior high she’s intent on carrying you around and spoon-feeding you the meals that she cooked. You’d like to say she didn’t do the weird blushing thing that she did with Junko’s violent affection but that’d make her too normal. She had her moments but more often than not she was infamous for getting overly excited about all the small things.

First school uniform?

“Baby, you look perfect!”

“Muki-chan you’re nose is running.”

“Oh is it?”

Eating your favorite food?

“You’re such a messy eater, (Y/n)! Here I’ll get that for you.”

“Are you-? You’re not throwing that in the trash are you?”

“Oh (Y/n) what are you doing talking? Eat your food.”

Simply existing within her vicinity?

“Hah~Look at them sleep so soundly! My (Y/n)~!”

You really didn’t like waking up to her drool on your face, or at least that’s what you hope it is.

But if you compared that to Junko’s behavior it was more of a minor inconvenience to know your sister’s watching stalking you diligently. Junko had the most prevalent despair-filled behavior but not in the way many would think.

“Oi oi don’t go runnin’ from your big sis! It be pretty despairing if those friends you’re running to all died horribly in front of you?”

Always keeping you within arms reach, in her lap, or her actively making you aware of whatever despair she was deciding to inflict. Unlike her treatment of Mukuro which was truly ever to encourage her obsession with despair she seemed to satisfy in simply you. Having you, living with you, keeping you, killing for you, causing despair in your name It was an anomalous relationship with an abnormal girl; a love for you that was measured by her burning love(?) for you. But her affection wasn’t shown in any typical fashion as any would guess. Locking your friends in a room and enticing them to plan murders. Or that one time when she dressed you up as a baby to ‘relive the grand ol’ days’. Playful pushes, pinching at your cheeks, writing her name somewhere on your body, and including you in her violent rampages. The sight of Mukuro’s blushing face was a familiar one for you.

“Upupupu did you think you could runoff with that scumbag without sharing the fun times!?”

“Little (Y/n)! Did they hurt you? What am I saying, of course they did! I’ll brutalize them soon!”

Leading up to the biggest, most Awful, most Tragic event in human history your sisters were occupied with. Putting their plan in action they let you slip away with nothing but a tracker on. A tracker you were able to locate and stick to some unsuspecting pigeon.

With your newfound freedom you enjoyed yourself to the fullest completely unaware of the impending doom that would have been birthed from the walls of Hope’s Peak. By the time the world had truly began to be consumed by despair you were far from the school and fending off the Monokuma–masked assailants. For whatever reason the broadcasts didn’t affect you like it did others and that alone made you a person of interest to the graduated Ultimates. After hours of interrogation and questioning you were deemed not a threat but an asset in bringing down the host of the killing game.

“Upupupu you plebs out there still rooting for hope are cheering aren’t yuh!? Well for the glorious agents of despair I’ve got a job for ya–”

Now revealed: Junko Enoshima appeared in a prerecorded message beckoning the 77th class to snap and snicker at her voice.

“If you’re looking for the next instigator of despair it’ll be the living one! Baby (Y/n)!!!” Tongue out with those despair-filled eyes, as the video cuts to a picture of all three of you–zooming in on your unsuspecting chubby face. All though it was an old photo it resembled you enough and that was all it took to start the latest wave of despair.

Under Munukata’s leadership you just barely escaped his sword. By his divination you were still an ultimate, an ultimate targeted by the wicked Ultimate Despair. So naturally you should stay by his side even as the 77th class began to converge on your location, eager to plummet the world into deeper despair. Forget the way he so willingly strikes down any who attempt to befriend you or the way he demands you listen to his odd rules ‘to keep you safe.’ Forget all about how even after their reformation they still seem keen on meeting you and bringing you with them. And be sure to ignore how even more nameless victims of despair attempt to weasel their way to you.

Even in her death they seemed to birth an obsession around you.

“Awww didn’t think a silly thing would stop me baby bird! I’ve always wanted to give you the despairful birth you deserve. Corrupting all hope to fall into disgustingly delicious despair! Love can be cruel can’t it!?”

357 notes · View notes

baldurs-gate-official · 7 months

Text

Ok I just need to vent for a sec because I finished my Romanced/non-ascended Astarion run and gosh

As someone who suffers from severe PTSD... this means a lot to me. I've seen so many characters in media with PTSD where the condition isn't taken seriously/written poorly, or the only 'happy ending' they get is death.

But this... This is nice. The life I've lived is abnormal. I don't talk about it much because most people either wouldn't believe it, or might feel bad just for hearing it. I've survived torture, starvation, attempted murder, and I'm only just coming out of a lifetime of that. I was trapped for ages. Years. So many years. It's made it hard to trust people, or feel genuinely cared for. And being able to play a character on the other side of that, as someone confronted with a person traumatized and tasting freedom for the first time... and being able to help them, despite the difficulties, and get them to a place of safety and happiness is... I don't even know what word to use. It makes me feel hopeful, in a way. Seen. Understood a little.

And his reaction to freedom and safety! While it's not exactly like my own, it's so close. And I've never seen that feeling represented before. Safety is terrifying! Trusting people is terrifying! It feels impossible to believe anyone would genuinely stick with you while you work it all out.

When you go through a life of trauma, there's no such thing as safety. You get so used to the danger that going without it is the most terrifying thing in the world. Your brain and body can't comprehend that there isn't a threat. Before I escaped my situation, I knew there was always danger. I was always prepared for it, I was used to it, and knew how to tell when and how I needed to react. Being scared is familiar. It's a crutch, almost. The fear keeps you alert and alive. But... when the source of that fear is gone, you're left with this horrible feeling that the danger hasn't passed - you just can't see where it's coming from or what shape it'll take.

It's numbing. But a weird numbness. You flip between that and deep periods of, 'Oh fuck oh god, all of that really happened and now I have to pick up the pieces and live with it'.

Seeing someone else going through that, and being able to say the things I wish someone would tell me (and not even realize I needed to hear it until after) feels so good in the most aching way possible.

And the Cazador scene! There's one part at the start that hits so hard:

That last line is everything I wish I could say to my own parents. I was punished for everything. Anything I did was an excuse to hurt me, even something as simple as showing an emotion or reacting to the pain. But when I escaped it all, and my father tried to pull me back, he tried to frame it like he'd done it all for my own good. That I was the one at fault, and failed despite his best efforts to 'help' me.

I wish I had the courage to yell those words at him, instead of trying to keep peace and make myself meek. "Fuck you and fuck everything you've ever done to me". I feel that in my soul. I want to scream it at him until my lungs hurt and I can't breathe.

And his ending... He can't stay in the sun anymore. It hurts him. It'll affect him for the rest of his life. But he has someone who cares for him, who will stay with him despite that, who doesn't view it as a hindrance. I can't even describe how that makes me feel. I have wounds from what was done to me that will never truly heal, and until now I've always thought of it as a flaw that would make me unlovable. As odd as it is... Him not being able to go in the sun makes it an even happier ending for me? Yes, it hurts and it sucks. But... He's not alone. Part of him believes you'll leave him now that he's confined to the shadows. Proving him wrong feels like a final affirmation that, yes, you're really staying with him. It's real, and he won't be alone. Everything will be okay, despite the pain.

Anyways thanks for coming to my traumadump. I really wish Larian would give us more opportunities to hug Astarion.

#BG3 #baldur's gate 3 #Astarion #traumadump #CW PTSD and Abuse #Also #And I have some incredible friends and social workers helping me get through it #I'll be ok. This is the best I've ever been #if you have questions I don't mind answering #it feels good to talk about tbh. and if I can keep people from worrying I will #q

83 notes · View notes

avisisisis · 2 years

Text

Headcanons of them from when they were young!

Sun Wukong used to have golden hair while Macaque's was white, like the 2009 version!

Wukong's hair was very puffy and messy because of all the crazy stunts he was always pulling. I think he had rather fluffy fur because he had to be warm to survive in the mountain, and his body found a way to not die of the cold

Macaque was rather thin, and even if his fur was really soft, it wasn't as fluffy as Sun Wukong's. That's the main reason why he mostly wore clothes or at least something to cover himself, along with the fact that he thinks the look pretty (they, in fact, do)

Wukong was pretty shy and didn't talk to anyone when he was first born. He was kind of an outcast. His looks always favoured him because he was considered one of the prettiest monkeys (he met everyone's standards lmao), but no one wanted to be near him because he was born from a stone. Isn't that abnormal?

Macaque was also an outcast at first. He's a demon monkey and not as good looking as SWK in monkey standards. Also, with his six ears, he didn't get to hang out with the monkeys that much because of how loud they were, since it made his ears hurt. A while after he came to life (i'm making it sound like he's some kind of Frankestein monster), the monkeys started to trust him a bit more since they saw that he wasn't going to attack them

At the time SWK was born (he was technically born older because he didn't have parents to take care of him. He hatched at an age where he could already survive on his own. Mac's body and mentality are the same as his. Kind of. SWK will ALWAYS be more childish than Mac fight me on this), Macaque was already considered trustworthy by everyone, so when he met this weird monkey and presented him to everyone else, they all trusted his judgement. Turns out he was right!

SWK used to hide behind Mac a lot. He was the first living being he ever met, and he was really shy around people he didn't know, so at first he stayed around Mac all the time until he finally warmed up to the others. This same thing happened every time they met new people

Even if SWK was pretty shy, he still was deadly honest (at least with his opinions). Meanwhile, Mac didn't really want to cause any trouble, so he usually stayed behind whenever his friend caused chaos (unless he invited him. Then you'd have two chaos creating monkeys)

Seriously, with how shy SWK is and how extroverted Mac is, you'd think the troublemaker wasn't the one who hid behind his friend every time he met someone new

Macaque is used to Sun Wukong being chaotic, so he didn't react much whenever he offended someone besides a exasperated look and a bit of scolding

Macaque was the one everyone trusted when it came to having a good reputation. Leave Wukong the beating people up stuff, please, he'll thank you for it with peaches

After getting over his shy stage, Sun Wukong was very talkative with Macaque. He always made sure to not talk too loud so that he wouldn't hurt his friend's ears, but still. Way too talkative

Sun Wukong was basically a sweetheart after meeting all the monkeys. Everybody loved him and how he shined. His light quickly blinded everyone more than Macaque's ever would (he wasn't mad or jealous about it, of course not. In fact, he was proud! And as long as they were still together, them he'd be fine) (too bad that didn't last lol)

Sometimes Macaque would take over Wukong's place by disguising himself as him just to save him from social interaction

Sun Wukong: *Destroys the heavens and terrifies the gods, laughs as he murders his enemies*

Macaque: Isn't he sweet?

And

Macaque: *Manipulates people into doing what he wants, is a dark being who thrives on suffering*

Sun Wukong: There he is! The light of my life!

Macaque and Wukong used to spar (play) a lot. After becoming so powerful the immortals feared him, Wukong had to hold back so that he wouldn't hurt Macaque too seriously

As Sun Wukong's anger grew, the more enemies he found, and the amount of people who attacked their home grew. In the present, Macaque resents him for not noticing

Sun Wukong never had a healthy way of letting go of his anger. Macaque never had a healthy way of letting go of his hatred. They bond

They call each other “Peaches” and “Plums” because they like peaches and plums. Macaque started it

They used to be sickeningly sweet. It was disgusting and adorable at the same time (“I swear it sometimes seemed like they wanted to live in eachother's skin,” Princess Iron Fan complains as MK writes down the information she's giving him)

They pulled a lot of pranks. A lot

Wukong was a great king! He just needed Macaque to actually send his orders because he got too nervous

When they grew apart, they mimicked a part of eachother's personalities because of how lonely they felt. That's why SWK seems so extroverted and Mac looks like he'd rather die before talking to anyone. Their dynamic is even more complicated now because of that haha. Blame the trauma

SWK genuinely believed that he was better than (almost) everyone else, except for Mac. Mac is the one who was the same as him

They used to gift each other their food

#lego monkie kid #journey to the west #lmk #jttw #sun wukong #the monkey king #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #shadowpeach #can be seen as platonic or romantic #they'd never get srs mad at eachother. NEVER #until THE argument ofc #haha

221 notes · View notes

embodyingchaos · 10 months

Note

HII !! omg it's been so long since I've seen anyone write for David Dastmalchian's characters ＼(^_^)／

could I request hcs for abner with a s/o with a symbiote (Venom) ?

❥ HI THERE LOVE, yea i've just started becoming more active on tumblr and my love for david has GROWN INTO AN INFATUATION and so all i've been writing is david characters haha! thank you for requesting and i hope these headcanons are okay bc your ask is such a unique one and i don't wanna disappoint AAAAA

abner krill with a s/o that has a symbiote headcanons warnings: mentions of intercourse, this is so short im so sorry i had no ideas SHHSHSH

okay so i feel as though you wouldn’t tell him that you have a symbiote and he didn’t really question anything when you talk to yourself CONSTANTLY, because yk talking to yourself isn’t that abnormal

but when your body starts jolting from one place to another, beyond your own will, abner’s like ok so this isn’t normal?

eventually you tell him and he’s immediately WORRIED ASF BECAUSE EXTRATERRESTRIAL PARASITES THAT BASICALLY ATTACH THEMSELF TO THEIR HOST FOR A LONG TIME??? he already has trauma from his own interdimensional virus so he’s extremely concerned for you

when you explain that it’s completely harmless and that you’re actually really good friends with your symbiote he’s definitely more relieved but still ever-so worried bc that’s our abner <3

it took a lot of convincing for him to not be worried, but it took him even MORE CONVINCING to not freak out when you turn into venom and abner just looks at you with the most terrified look ever or maybe even faint

HE ALSO REALISED THIS WAS WHY YOU ATE SO MUCH GODDAMN CHOCOLATE, bc your symbiote needs chocolate

i feel as though abner would misinterpret your emotions and behaviour at times and think you’re annoyed with him when you’re actually pissed off with your symbiote who keeps saying “FIGHT. EAT CHOCOLATE. FIGHT.” so you definitely need to always tell abner that your aren’t mad at him but rather at the parasite living inside your body

abner definitely finds it a bit weird, possibly uncomfortable, that he’s technically dating your symbiote while he’s dating you, ESPECIALLY WHEN VENOM BUTTS IN AND IS LIKE “stop undressing them with your eyes” AND ABNER WILL START SWEATING AND CRYING LIKE “BUT I’M NOT??????” so yeah

he’ll definitely get bullied a lot by venom and every time he does, you have to comfort abner and just remind him that venom’s just a mean meany pants

venom would definitely remind abner of his mom, but it was alright because he had you to scold venom whenever he would say some whacked up shit

imagine how awkward it is to smush booties(have sex) when venom’s JUST THERE, LIKE ABNER’S ALREADY NERVOUS ABOUT GETTING NAKED AND THERE’S THE PARASITE READY TO GIVE AN INSULTING REMARK ABOUT HIS BODY ANY TIME SOON

honestly, it would be worst for you since you can hear venom in your mind THE WHOLE TIME

after a while, abner will probably get used to having venom around almost every time and will probably maybe have a comeback or two if he ever gets confident enough, and with your encouragement and comfort, he will definitely get more confident

#abner krill #abner krill headcanons #abner krill hcs #abner krill masterlist #abner krill x gn reader #polka dot man #polka dot man hcs #polka dot man x reader #polka dot man headcanons #suicide squad 2 #symbiote #symbiote reader #david dastmalchian #polka dot man masterlist #david dastmalchian masterlist #david dastmalchian x reader #reader with a symbiote #venom

47 notes · View notes

elecilaombre · 1 year

Text

To learn normal from abnormal : Tim is losing his grip on reality and keep letting himself talk aloud about stuff that are normal, right ? Aren’t they bonding ?

“Falling asleep is exactly like some scenes in horror movies. It’s laying down, alone, in a dark room, trying to control your breath, to not be too loud, to fall asleep before something happens. To hear your heartbeat, beating like crazy, pumping as hard as it can, to hear it in your ear, to feel it in your stomach, see it in the corner of your eyeball. It’s hoping it will be fast and trying to ignore all the adrenalin in your veins, the tension in all your muscles. Hoping it will be done quickly because it’s so terrifying.”

Everybody fell silent. Tim had said that without even looking up from his files, like if it was a trivial fact. As if it was normal.

“The fuck replacement ?”

The young man hummed in response, not even paying attention. His eyes were highlighted by dark rings. They seemed at their place on his face. They suddenly made sense.

“Sometimes I don’t know who is talking. Usually I choose who can speak for ourselves. But someday, when we think about it, even if it’s mid-sentences, sometimes we don’t know which one is in control. It’s like in “ And then there were none”, when they all look at each other, the ten only persons on the island, but still someone else’s, an eleven seem to be somewhere, tricking them. It’s exactly that. We ask each other, ‘if it ain’t you either or the others… Who is it?’. It stresses us that sometimes we don’t always notice this other one.”

Cassandra looked weirdly at her brother. She might not know everything, but she knows for sure that those informations are unusual. There shouldn’t be a ‘us’ in her brother, just a singular person, him.

But she doesn’t have time to process all of it, to ask anything, Tim is already onto another subject.

“ They don’t love me, god they don’t even like me. I shouldn’t be living with them. I’m just a stranger here, an odd error. I’m pretty sure I can hear them talk about me in my back all the time. I keep disappointing them, they told me so many times. And I can’t even imagine what horrible things they might say about me behind my back. How much I might disgust them. I’m still not sure if I just shouldn’t run away, disappear from their lives. It would be so much better for them… …. … … Sure Kon, I can sleep at your place if it can reassure you, I’m making my bag and telling Alfred then you can pick me up…”

Damian is in the corridor, listening to Drake, baffled by all the lies he is currently saying to his boyfriend. Since when the Waynes had been trash talking to him ? It’s very unlikely, even Damian wouldn’t do it, so the other couldn’t. They all hold so much respect for the third Robin, for their greatest detective. Maybe they should tell him more often. Because Drake shouldn’t believe those things. For a detective, he could be kind of dense sometimes.

“I feel so empty you know, like if I had been bleeding myself all over the place and there’s just not anymore me left in this body. It’s weird, like if I was just reduced to being an automat, to faking all my action, my emotion. It’s not me, it’s not someone. It’s just reminiscent of what I used to be. There are days when I can put some mask on and they will stick. I will be someone for one day, until the mask slips and there’s nobody actually behind it. And there’s days where none of the masks want to stick, so I have to walk around with everybody seeing how empty I am. Somehow, I prefer the fake facade rather than the second option. Sadly, I don’t have any control over it. I wish so hard to be able to fill this nothing, anything could do the trick, I don’t care. But it won’t work, nothing is enough to fill this emptiness in me. So I just kept being my automatic self. You know, like everyone does…”

Nobody does that. Jason wants to tell him it’s not normal, no one feels like that. But how to turn it without sounding mean. Without triggering Tim who for once said something personal to Jason. That is so wrong, so wrong, he will need to get to the end of this subject. How sad is it to know he isn’t even 20 but already so broken ?

“ You know what is funny ? I can’t even recognize myself in a mirror. Somewhere deep inside my brain we know it’s me, Tim’s face we are seeing. But we also know we don’t remember it looking like that. It seems odd, out of character. Since when our eyes look like that. Do we really have such a tiny waist ? We’re sure we don’t have beauty marks here on our lips… But it is our lips… Like if it’s me, Tim, but in other hands, it's more like a mockery of it, wrong everywhere but kind of close to its original. And each time it’s the same thing, yesterday my eyes seemed too tiny, today too big, tomorrow the right size but wrong color. Never good enough, never alright. I’m tired of being so wrong. it’s us but it’s not us.”

Dick is trying his very best to make his tie look good, next to Tim in the mirror, looking at his younger brother worriedly. Tim looks like Tim for him, a tired version of Tim but that’s his normal with their lifestyle. Nothing seems wrong in his face, or abnormal. But those thoughts are raising so many red flags in Dick’s head. Maybe he should spend a little more time with the other boy, make sure he is alright or if there’s other things that don't sound right.

“ I’m never truly hungry. If I wait enough, hunger goes quickly away and most of the time it turns out I was just bored. So I never know if I should eat or miss it. When was the last time I ate a real meal ? Do I deserve to eat ? Do I really need to ? I used to be fat when I was younger. My parents hated it, hated me, hated my body. They found me disgusting. Now that I’m thinner, I kept wondering if I should eat or not, if it will make me fat to eat now or if it would kill me to miss it. And each time I guess, I always guess wrong. It’s exhausting, you have no idea, I hope it doesn’t do that to you very often.”

Duke didn’t know what to answer. They were eating take-out on a rooftop. And now he was worried Tim was developing or had already developed an eating disorder. He should try to do some research about it, and watch Tim more closely. Even if he already had guessed his relation with food was messed up, it didn’t feel good to be right. So, not knowing how to answer, Duke just offered the rest of his part to Tim.

“ It’s so selfish of me to stay alive. I’m not useful. I’m easily forgettable and replaceable.”

“ Do you remember what I'd just say ? Because I don’t. Most of the time, I have no clue what I’m saying. There are words coming out of my mouth, sentences I thought of, but nothing that my brain did proceed. It sometimes feels like it’s not me who said that ? If I don’t remember things happening ? If I don’t remember being there … Having said those things ? Can I be held accountable for it ? Because, to me, it’s just like it didn’t happen. Words seem to flow from my mouth, but without being asked to, without my permission. Sometimes I even wonder if I say things that I actually think or if it’s just coming from nowhere. It’s not me who’s talking and … Excuse me, what was I saying ?”

Stephanie tried to not show on her features the fear burning inside of her. That was wrong. Since when Tim had lost himself that much ? Did he even register that he confessed that to her ? Does he even mean everything he can tell them ? Are they losing him ?

“ I feel so alone. Even when I’m surrounded by all of them, even when people talk to me, I feel alone. Alone because people don’t really know me and don’t want to know me. Alone because in the end, I’m not even there and it doesn’t matter. I could not be here and nobody would notice ! I’m a ghost. Nobody listened to me, I kept getting ignored. Nobody looks my way anymore. I’m decaying in front of the whole world,, but nobody notices, nobody is truly close to me. Some part of me wants to disappear discreetly, to make my point : nobody will notice I’m not there because it doesn't matter. On the other hand, I’m so afraid to disappear without anybody noticing, nobody to mourn me, as if I never even existed. If nobody noticed me alive or dead, did I even exist ? Or was I truly just a shadow ?”

Bruce swallows dryly, hidden in the corridor, listening to Tim behind his half open door. The young man is talking sadly, while pacing back and forth in his room. His phone is on speaker, abandoned on his bed and the person on the other end of the line just hums a little “ Whatever Timothy”, proving his point. Nobody seems to listen to him truly. Bruce believes Tim's eyes start to shine in the dimly lit room, shine from unshed tears trying to free themselves. Tim is right, realize Bruce, closing soundlessly the door, incapable of facing his son, he does be alone in this world.

“Sometimes, I phase out. I’m not here, but my body is still there. It’s like I’d gone hide myself in some corner of my brain. And so, given that I’m absent, nothing happens. And no, it’s not sleeping because I’m aware of everything, I’m awake. Just not there. Just rejecting everything. And those absences are physically exhausting. It means staying in the same place and exact same position, muscles all tightly stretched. I think One day I just won't come back to front and stay to putrefy inside my own head. I hope nobody finds my very alive and decaying corpse. It’s better if I disappear in the woods without one word.”

He whispered his thoughts silently. With a bit of sadness piercing through his voice, just a little dot. Barbara wanted to hug him tightly, to beg him to stay with her. But he was on the other side of the city on patrol and she shouldn’t have hacked on his com. Now she had the crushing guilt of knowing Tim needed help and knowing she would never acknowledge her hearing his private thoughts. Maybe it would had been easier if she hadn’t heard him at all.

“ Do you truly know Timothy ? Because I sure don't. We are all different personalities and we take charge of the exchange given who is in front of us and what they expect. I’m Tim the little brother but I’m also Tim the older brother. I’m Tim the perfect student and Tim that follow no rule? I’m Robin, no not anymore I’m Red Robin. I’m a well known vigilante. I’m Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir, the CEO of Wayne Industry. I’m Tim Drake. I’m whoever they need me to be. I’m polite to her but not to him. I’m so calculated but too impulsive. I’m cold but too much on the other side of the spectrum. Switch switch switch. I’m broken. The masks won’t stick anymore and now we have been discovered, us, the Tims. We ain’t truly one, we are just working in concordance. It’s like a ballet, one touch of anger, then passive aggressive and final on the exhausted Tim. Each one try to work hand in hand to make the best approximation of a real functional human.”

Alfred stopped next to the young man. He had pushed Tim outside in the garden to keep him company while he was gardening. What was all that talk about switching. He knows Tim, he is the young boy who imposed himself as Robin, whom he considered as his grandson. He didn’t know this odd young man seated across from him, talking about personalities. Maybe his work, both at day and at night, might finally get to him. He must be exhausted once more. Alfred looked at him, studied him. Tim was entranced by his own hands. He seemed so lost. Alfred would forbid him to work tonight and make him go to bed early. That should fix it, right ?

“ If I only exist through pain and medications, what is the point of keeping the facade up ? No one want to be around me, I’m unsupportable. I can’t keep saying, Im’ fine, I’m ok, while yellling inside that I want to dissapear. Do they realise the sacrifice it is to stay by their side. Sure it’s easier for them, easier to have me alive, even though I don’t exist in their world, to know I existe somewhere. But I’m tired. It’s been 4 years takings pills, seeing professional… why do I still have no answer ? Why I still feel like I shouldn’t be here ? I’m quite sure I belong inside a casket, or even a box, hidden from everyone sight. I kept dropping, breaking over trivial things. My world resumed by other’s world. I’m not the main character, I just live in the background. Worst is knowing that I’m fake in every part of me. I tried so hard to be someone, that I ended up being nothing, a big pretty liar. But nobody see that, no one want to see it. I’m gonna dissapear. That is all I want. Everything had ad always been so heavy, so hard for me. I’m tired of faking it, of being ok, of being pushed away. I just want to dissapear the same way I lived, discreetly and whitout noise. To be gone is what I truly wish, what I truly aspire.”

Ra’s took a shaking breath. The Detective, His Detective, was showing signs that were alarming. Maybe he needed to step in and take Tim with him. His so-called family was clearly failing him. If not he would never have said any of this shit even less to Ra’s who is his enemy. Shouldn’t he confess to his close friends or even family ? Ra’s tried to catch his arm, and Tim stayed still. He couldn’t. He couldn’t take the young man with him like that, just kidnap him. He needed to prepare for him and for the opposition he would encounter from the vigilantes. So he left with regret filling his head. He would be back.

“ I want to matter,” cry Timothy, eyes unseeing, deversing tears, hot burning tears. “ I want to matter. I want to be noticed. I want to be loved. I want to be held. I want to be seen. I want ! I want to exist, damn” he murmurs. “ Please, don’t forget me. Don’t let me disappear in indifference. Please… I want to … I want to exist” he ended up sobbing. Nobody hears his pleas, nobody sees him drop to his knees, clutching his chest in a mock embrace, rocking himself back and forth while he cries and sobs in despair. Does he even know what he is saying ? Has he slept recently ? Has he eaten in the last two days ? Is he in control today ?

The mask won’t stick anymore. Nobody has confronted him even though he kept talking about everything that felt wrong. He doesn’t know how to ask for help anymore ? He tried, he talked over and over. Maybe it was just normal stuff. Maybe he was making a big fuss about nothing. Maybe everybody felt that way. They must have wondered why he was whining so much then. Yeah that must have been what was happening. He was a bother once again. He kept making remarks that were obvious. He was so dumb.

He was shaking. That was going to be it. Tim was at his point of no return. He had hit rock bottom. All those weeks talking to everybody, trying to open up, only to pass for an idiot. He was so dumb. That was gonna be it. It might be normal to feel like that. He might have bothered them with his little identity crisis, with his silly story that everybody had to live through. Except he couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t put on anymore mask, feel himself, his selves, slip through his fingers. He couldn’t be afraid of sleep, of staying awake, of eating, of starving. He couldn’t let himself be a nuisance for others, no more. He was done. He had tried his hardest but sometimes even the simpler thing could be too much for the weakest soldier.

Maybe someone would care after it ? Maybe he might be mourn ? Maybe Batman could have better vigilante. Maybe Dick could focus on his only younger brother fully. Maybe Jason will forgive him. Maybe Alfred wouldn't have to care about him. Maybe Kon could be happy with Cass and find happiness in the arms of his old crush. Maybe Stephanie would finally be less awkward when hearing his name. Duke could easily take his place and be more integrated in the family. Maybe Ra’s will let him go. So many maybe, an absence of answer. He was hopeful they always managed to land on their feet.

His hands were still shaking. He still managed to take all the meds. Over the last four year he managed to stock up on prescription drugs, quite a lot actually, unfinished tabs, started treatments then abruptly stopped leaving vials full or half full of meds.

For Tim it didn’t matter which one was going in. He just started taking pill after pill, emptying the vials, and going through another. He started feeling a little out of it after his third different medicine. He kept going at it, until he had to sit against the couch cause it was moving too much around him. Then he just opened the bottle and let the little pills roll on his coffee table, eating them like candy.

He never felt himself go.

After everything, when all ended, it would haunt all and each one of them. They knew.

If you read if all, thank you. I hope you liked it. This one is dear to me because it has an odd way of narrating that I love.

All those thoughts your just read are mine, so don’t read too much about it from a canon perspective. It's therapeutical for me to put my abnormal thoughts on some type of media. If you ever had those thoughts, please seek help, or even message me. Those are not normal or insignificant.

I wanted someone to help Tim, but I'm better at sad ending.

Please forgive me my broken english, I’m actually french and writing in another language is challenging. Please give me your thought, I will greatly appreciate it.

65 notes · View notes

bettsfic · 1 year

Note

hey i don't know if you've ever answered a question like this before, and i don't want to offend you, but how do you handle writing smut that is maybe more abnormal than say vanilla smut scenes?

i wrote and posted something like this for the first time, and i feel like i've drank twenty shots of espresso i'm so shaky. i know reading and writing this stuff doesn't make me a bad person, but i'm terrified of anyone in my personal life reading what i've wrote.

i don't know if you can relate to this but some advice would be appreciated. love your work.

no offense taken!

i remember the first time i wrote something out of my smut comfort zone, which for me was veering into poorly or non-negotiated S&M. specifically it felt very spicy for me to write a sadistic narrator, and the only way i could even get the words down was by promising i'd post it to a sock account. but by the time i'd finished the fic, i was really proud of it, because it went beyond my initial aims and helped me break through a writing ceiling. i ended up posting it on main, and i probably lost like a dozen subscribers (i always lose a ton of subscribers when i post) but that fic opened a lot of doors for me aesthetically, and i've been following that road ever since.

that kept happening. i would write things that went to darker, more fucked up places, thinking i would either sock it or not post it at all, just so i would have the courage to write it in the first place, and by the time i finished, i'd always be really happy with it and post it to main. i saw merit in my work and i didn't want to shy away from that. and eventually, that initial anxiety i felt started to bleed away. and it sounds super bizarre, but now when i have an idea that feels too fucky to post on main, i turn it into original fiction and try to publish it in lit mags. under my real name. where anyone can find it.

part of my comfort with doing that is that i acknowledge the lineage of my work. in fanfiction, my work is speaking to other works in a given tag, not to mention the greater history of a genre i have a lot of respect and admiration for. in original fiction, my work is speaking to a long line of literary sex writers. you know, the decameron, arguably the first novel ever written, is full of weird sex stuff. sexuality is part of everyone's identity, even if that identity is "i'm not interested in sex." personally i don't see any shame in acknowledging that it's part of my identity too, and it frames a lot of the subject matter i choose to write about. even if i didn't understand that lineage, "i thought it was hot and i wanted to write it" is valid artistic justification. anything you are compelled to render on the page, however you're compelled to render it, is valid. you don't have to defend that.

there are two sentences i like to repeat in my head whenever i get worried or scared about what other people think of my weird sex writing: "let's talk about that" and "your reaction to what you read is your responsibility."

"let's talk about that" is just a good thing to have in your arsenal for most situations. i think it's something i picked up in group therapy. in all the groups i've been in, i'm so fascinated by the fact that nobody attempts to diffuse tense situations. as long as they don't get violent, you have to let them play out. should someone i know personally get upset or offended by something i've written, i know i can say, "let's talk about that." and in that conversation i'll have the opportunity to listen to their thoughts and respond to them. i can let their reaction play out. i know i never have to justify the existence of my work, but i can. i can say, here's what i was attempting to do, here's the experience i was interested in rendering and why i was interested in it. you can choose to understand that or not. you can choose to hate it, and me, and that is your right. which brings me to...

"your reaction to what you read is your responsibility" is more or less what i tell my family, who all seem somewhat uncomfortable about sex. the second story i published involved explicit S&M, and i remember telling my family that they were welcome to read it, but they'd learn things about me that might change their perception of me, and they would have to take accountability for that. as far as i know, my family, while interested in and supportive of my writing, has not read anything i've written.

as a writer, i am allowed to explore whatever i want however i want to explore it. if i choose to share that work, readers are allowed to react however they want to it and form opinions about it and me. these reactions may be colored by personal experience and knowledge (or lack thereof), and they may be negative. what other people think of me and my work is not really about me, and it's not my business. my only job is to continue exploring my aesthetic interests and write the work that has meaning to me, and encourage that in others.

this is a difficult mentality to cultivate, especially if there are people in your life who have power over you, whose opinions of you are definitely your business because they're holding your paycheck or the roof over your head. or maybe you just love them enough that you're terrified to lose them. hopefully these people in your life are reasonable enough to respond well to "let's talk about that." but i understand the fear of those who aren't. all i can say is that the weirder you write, the harder you have to work to find freedom, the more difficult and uncomfortable conversations become about your work, because good art always upsets people. i know there are many writers of fandom and pen writers who have to separate their real life identity from their work because of its explicitness. i imagine that's a careful balance and in some ways difficult to maintain, but even when i tried to do that, i was never very good at it. there are still brief moments of shock i get when i try to see my work from the perspective of readers who may not be primed to understand where i'm coming from, or who may be hurt or upset by it. the wider my audience becomes, the more terrifying it is to be known, but that's the path i'm on right now, cultivating a sense of self strong enough to endure ridicule, dismissal, misperception, and maybe even hate. it seems like a very long road, and i wonder if it's possible for someone like me to reach the end of it.

i hope you found some of this helpful, and continue writing the things you're interested in writing.

#writing advice

60 notes · View notes

obwjam · 11 months

Note

Omg... Ted Lasso fic? 👀👀👀 Roy or Jamie or Ted finding a scared tiny in the stadium... kiss

god damn it i really went fucking wild with this LOL but let's be honest, this was a long time coming. enjoy jamie and roy being soft for a tiny! 🥰

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

You didn’t think anyone was up this early.

You knew how this worked. The players started filing in around 8 a.m. or so. The coaches wouldn’t be far behind. Around 9, they would all move out to the pitch to start training for the day. Usually, you started your initial scoping of the locker room before everyone got there, and you would take what you needed once they left.

Since when did Jamie start getting here at 6 a.m.?

You were kicking yourself for not even hearing him walk in. There you were, in his locker, going through his stuff and making notes of what would be useful to try and lug back to your little home later. Medical tape, shoelaces, hair products – he usually had it all. His locker was a gold mine.

Jamie was just looking for water, though. After running around London and doing Roy’s 4 a.m. training, he would arrive at the facility early to replenish and recharge before actually playing football. He was tired this morning, abnormally so. It had been a long month after learning total football on the fly, and all these early sessions were starting to get to him a bit.

He groggily sauntered into the weight room, feeling slightly guilty that he phoned in his last 20 or so minutes of running. He was fine, the team was playing fine, 20 minutes wasn’t going to do anything. He looked around everywhere for the water bottle he thought he had forgotten in here before realizing that he must have left it in his locker overnight.

That’s when he spotted you.

He blinked what had to be five times before concluding that no, this was real. Very real. There was a tiny person – not a mouse, not a bug, a person – crawling through his stuff. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Intrigued? Scared? Grossed out? Truthfully, it was a combination of all three.

The little thing didn’t seem to notice him standing there, which gave Jamie a few seconds to figure out what he was going to do. His first thought was to just walk away and come back later, but he had been looking forward to that room temperature water all morning. He then thought about just grabbing his water and leaving, but that would feel weird. He should probably just say something, right? But what? He didn’t want to scare them, though he was a little freaked out himself.

He bent down to get a closer look at this thing. It was uncanny – they looked just like a person, just… small. He couldn’t believe it.

“What the fuck…” Jamie whispered to himself. That’s when you finally noticed.

You whipped your head around and nearly vomited at the sight. This wasn’t just a giant, this was Jamie fucking Tartt. He was loud and reckless and honestly, you had no idea what he was about to do.

The two of you stared at each other, both mouths slightly agape, both unable to find words. You had to run, and run soon. You slowly turned your head up, eyes scanning some object too big to make out what it was.

My water bottle looks fucking huge next to them, Jamie thought.

“Um…” Jamie started, but nothing followed. He was just taking in the sight in front of him – your terrified expression, your clothes, the way you were slowly backing up. “Uh–”

Suddenly, Jamie heard the front doors burst open. Shit. Roy was here. He had to do something, and fast – the tiny had started to bolt away.

So he picked you up.

You yelled so loud that it made Jamie cringe. You kicked and flailed your legs as the ground beneath you raced away, and your ears were popping as you were lifted high into the air. Jamie began to stretch to his full height while pulling you up, and your brain felt like it was going to fall out of your head.

Jamie slowly lowered you into his open palm, and before you had a chance to protest, he curled his fingers over you, shrouding you in darkness. You were on your hands and knees, strands of sweat-stained hair dangling down as you tried to feign off your growing headache. When Jamie lurched forward and began walking, you nearly let loose.

“STOP! PLEASE!” you managed to yell, though you were certain he couldn’t hear you. Shit.

You were panicking, almost as much as Jamie was. What did he just do? Where was he going to go? Whatever happened, he could not let Roy see you.

It was not meant to be.

Roy felt instantly that something was wrong. He heard Jamie in the other room and was ready to walk in and yell at him for cutting his training short. He paused in surprise when he saw Jamie dart the opposite way toward the boot room, holding out his hand like he was trying not to let something spill.

Roy stuck his foot out as Jamie tried to shut the door behind him and tilted his head.

“Oi! What the fuck was that?”

Jamie spun around so fast you nearly flew off his hand. Somehow, he was able to move his open palm behind his back as he turned to face a scowling, yet curious, Roy.

“What the fuck was what?” Jamie retorted, trying to feign ignorance but failing miserably. His heartbeat was growing rapidly as he felt your tiny movements on his palm.

“That, whatever the fuck’s in your hand,” Roy said, pointing toward Jamie’s arm that was unceremoniously curled behind his back.

“Uh, there’s nothing in me hand… see?”

You yelped as Jamie switched his other hand back and dumped you into the opposite palm. He held his empty hand out to Roy, who was not amused.

“You just switched your hands,” he groaned.

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did! I just fucking saw it!” Roy said incredulously.

“Saw what?” Jamie smirked, hoping he could annoy Roy so much that he would stomp out of the room.

“If you don’t show me what’s in your fucking hand, you’re running fifty fucking laps today after training.”

Jamie bit his lip. Roy was not kidding about that. Part of him wanted to show Roy his discovery – maybe he would know what to do. But every time he remembered the look of sheer terror on your face, he wanted nothing more than to protect you from everything and everyone.

But he really didn’t want to run those laps.

“Please… please…” you whispered, desperately hoping he would just suck it up and keep you a secret. At this point, you would rather be trapped with Jamie than have to face two giants at once.

It was not your lucky day.

“Alright, look, mate, you have to promise not to freak out.”

Roy raised an eyebrow, entirely confused as to what Jamie could possibly be showing him. Nothing could have prepared him for a tiny, cowering human sitting in his palm.

You clung onto the folds of Jamie’s skin as he slowly moved his hand out from behind his back. The movement alone was enough to make you sick, but the sight of Roy Kent’s eyes blowing wide open and his mouth hanging slightly agape was infinitely worse.

“What the fuuuuu…” Roy couldn’t even finish his sentence. You were trembling as you felt two pairs of giant eyeballs on you, gawking at you like some kind of circus animal. You could barely remember to breathe as Roy leaned down to get a closer look.

A human. A tiny, living, breathing human, just sitting there. Roy didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do. What could he do? Was he supposed to say something?

“I found ‘em in my locker,” Jamie mumbled, his eyes fixated on your shaking form. “They were just rummagin’ through me stuff.”

You were scared shitless of the sight in front of you, yet you couldn’t look away. Roy was staring right back, trying to make sense of everything, when he finally noticed how terrified you were. Your chest was expanding and retracting rapidly, and he swore he could see sweat — or tears? — glistening on your face. Your eyes were pleading with him, and he felt it.

Finally, Roy looked back up at Jamie. There was a pause.

“I don’t know what to do. They’re — they’re so scared, they tried to run but I just picked ‘em up and brought ‘em here ‘cause I panicked and didn’t know what else to do,” Jamie stammered. “I-I didn’t want anyone else to see ‘em.”

“Too fucking late for that,” Roy grumbled.

“You’re the one who followed me in ‘ere! I didn’t want to fuckin' show ‘em to you!”

You couldn’t take it anymore. They were talking about you like you weren’t right there. Once the first tear fell, the floodgates opened up.

“Shit,” Jamie muttered as soon as he felt something wet on his hand.

“Fuck,” Roy echoed. “What the fuck are we gonna do with ‘em?” There was a pit in his stomach. He was the last person on earth that was qualified to be handing someone as big as his thumb.

“I dunno,” Jamie said, sounding uncharacteristically defeated. “I mean… shouldn’t we ask ‘em what they want?”

You furiously wiped away your tears when you felt the heat of their gazes on you. They… actually cared about your opinion?

After taking some deep breaths and working up the courage to speak, you closed your eyes.

“Can you please put me down?”

The two footballers were taken aback that they could actually hear you speak, and even more so at your request.

“Oh, um, of course, yeah, yeah,” Jamie said awkwardly. He looked both ways behind him and settled on placing you in one of the boot cubbies at eye level with him and Roy. This was not ideal. Now you really couldn’t run.

“So what?" Roy said suddenly. "We’re just gonna stand here like a bunch of fucking pricks?” You looked at him in surprise. “No offense.”

Silence.

“What were you doing in his locker?” Roy continued, sounding mildly annoyed.

You stiffened up. This was the last guy you wanted to be talking to.

“I, uh. Was looking for food.”

“Food?” Jamie repeated.

All you could do was nod.

“So, what? Do you live here or some shit?” Roy asked.

You nodded. “Look, I’ll answer anything you want, I… can you please just promise to let me go when you’re done?”

Jamie and Roy exchanged a worried look. It didn’t really dawn on them until now how terrifying this must be for you. For all intents and purposes, they had just kidnapped you.

“I think we should just leave ‘em alone,” Roy finally said. “I don’t think they want anything to do with us.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agreed. You curled your hands into a fist to keep yourself from shaking too hard. You were going to have to go back in his hand again.

Wordlessly, Jamie placed his palm at the edge of the cubby and stared at you expectantly. You blinked away your tears furiously, knowing there was no other way down from here than the giant hand in front of you.

Unlike the first time he picked you up, Jamie felt his heart swell as you crawled into his palm, your eyes focused on the ground. He couldn’t help but feel like he had the most important task in the world, transporting you safely from one room to another. Making sure you were okay. Keeping you safe.

Roy cracked the door open and nodded when he confirmed that nobody else was in the building. You were surprised that this time, Jamie was keeping his hand steady as he briskly made his way back to his locker. He bent down and lowered his hand, and you jumped off before he could even put it all the way down.

Jamie jumped at the sudden movement, resting his now empty hand on his knee. You immediately started to run, but Jamie remembered something.

“Wait!”

You don’t know why, but you stopped and turned around. Right in front of you was a gigantic piece of food poking out of a wrapper.

“It’s a protein bar,” Jamie explained, reading your surprised expression perfectly. “If you need food. Should, uh, it should last you a while.”

You couldn’t help but sniff a laugh. Of course this would last you a while. It was going to go bad before you even finished half of it.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, convinced he couldn’t hear you anyway.

He did.

“Well, um. I have to go,” Jamie said, so awkward that you found it incredibly cute. “It was, erm, it was nice meeting you.”

You couldn’t do anything but wave goodbye – and gawk when Jamie stood up. As he jogged away, you found yourself feeling… sad? No. You shouldn’t feel sad. Couldn’t. But, god, he was just so… calming. Maybe this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him.

Jamie met with Roy in the weight room, his mind focused on anything but football. Roy noticed instantly, but didn’t say anything. He watched in amusement as Jamie sauntered over to the squat rack, turning his head in every direction like he’d never seen the thing before.

Roy smirked. “You can’t get them off your mind, can you?”

“No. Nooo. Nope. No,” Jamie answered instantly. “No way.”

A beat.

“They were fuckin’ adorable, weren’t they?” Jamie said sheepishly. Roy just nodded.

“Guess you’ll have to give ‘em another protein bar sometime?” the elder footballer asked mockingly.

“Yeah,” Jamie said, staring off into the distance. A smile grew across his face. “I guess I will.”

#it took me like a week to write this #this is my first g/t fic in a looooong time #and i dont even really like it that much #there are like a billion different ways this could have gone but ugh i just love S3 soft jamie #i want to write so much ted lasso g/t so i hope this motivates me!#also started to write some ted but felt like it was getting away from me so you all get jamie and roy #ok that's enough tags #obwrites #g/t #giant/tiny

30 notes · View notes

harrison-abbott · 1 month

Text

"NOT THERE ANYMORE!"

I get that most people talk to themselves. We all do it. We’ll mutter to ourselves at various things throughout the day. It’s not abnormal.

But, I knew this guy once. A long time ago – I used to live next to him in student halls. He was called Gary, and he talked to himself in quite spectacular ways. It was so odd living in the adjacent room to him: where the walls were thin and you could hear a lot from the other side.

First time it happened was around 5 a.m. in the morning. He didn’t wake me up, because I was usually up in the a.m. period. Just what I’m like. And so I figured Gary was as well, a night owl. That morning I just thought he was on the phone. I couldn’t make out the words – but he would stop for a little bit, then say a sentence, then pause, and speak again, like he was having a conversation. So I thought it was a phone call.

But then it happened next week. And it was more like a monologue, a long one, with no pauses in it. Again, it was at a weird hour. So I wondered if he was maybe recording something. As in, a podcast, perhaps. Shrug, I didn’t know.

As the semester went on, Gary’s habits worsened. Because he would shout, sometimes. Not talk. He would blurt out something. And it would make me jump. These could occur all times of day; I’d just be idle in my room, and he would yell out. And I caught some of the words as well. He would shout, “NOT THERE ANYMORE!” Or, “HAVE TO FIX IT!”

I became familiar with these phrases because he would repeat them. Like a tic. An angry one.

Was he working on an essay and getting frustrated with it? Or maybe he was watching a soccer game, and shouting at the players. Jesus, I really didn’t know.

It scared me a little bit, but moreover I was concerned for him.

Gary was quite a quiet guy, when you saw him in person. He didn’t socialise much or go out drinking … umm, but, he was polite and good natured. He didn’t leave his unwashed dishes around the kitchen like all the others did. Gary was probably far more mature than us. I never saw him in a bad mood, only heard.

Then there came this time in January when it was just me and Gary in the flat. The others still hadn’t gotten back yet from the Christmas break. It was at night and I was still awake. I was reading on my bed: and suddenly Gary launched on one of his loud monologues. This time it was proper furious and I began to get a bit terrified. “NOT THERE ANYMORE! NOT THERE ANYMORE!” He kept shouting that over and over. Then I heard him bashing on the floor and there were thumps on the walls.

So I got up from my bed and I went out my door.

And I hesitated before his door. And then knocked on it.

His tirade quit in a second.

“Gary?” I called. And I knocked again. “Are you all right?”

There were stretched seconds, half a minute, of total silence.

“Gary …” I breathed

“Yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh. Yes.”

“You … You sure?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No. It’s just that I heard you shouting.”

“My apologies. I didn’t know I was being loud.”

“…”

I thought maybe he would come to the door, but he didn’t: and then he said:

“Sorry about that. I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

I left him alone. And he didn’t make a peep for the rest of the night.

From then on, he was more quiet with his talking-to-himself. There were occasional blurts, still. But those ferocious monologues stopped after that night. When I next saw him in person he acted like nothing had happened. Perhaps Gary hadn’t realised, for all the time before, that I could hear him through the wall.

He left the flat politely in late April, as soon as his exams were complete.

And I only ever saw him one more time, on the campus. He didn’t see me. It was odd that you didn’t bump into the other students across the city, because it was so small. But, yeah, Gary just kinda vanished. And he remains a mystery.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #prose #spilled ink #stories #tumblr writers #short fiction #fiction #short story #flash fiction

5 notes · View notes

anne-bsd-bibliophile · 10 months

Text

Emotional triggers are crazy. I just figured out today that just telling someone "no" immediately makes me nervous and I prepare myself to be yelled at, blamed, ridiculed, etc. I realize now that being raised by a narcissistic father who was emotionally/verbally abusive and had to have everything his way caused me to be scared of telling someone "no."

For example, something as simple as being asked "Do you have Diet Dr. Pepper?" When I have to tell them "No, all I have is Diet Coke for diet drinks," it scares me half to death. But when someone asks, "What sodas do you have?" it is so much easier for me to answer. Then I feel like I can be helpful and try to find something they like instead of have to tell them I don't have their favorite drink.

I get that most people probably won't take it out on me when I don't have what drink they want. But I grew up in a household where if I told my father that something wasn't his way or that things hadn't turned out how he had hoped I knew I would be blamed and he would do whatever he could to push the blame on me:

I, a five year old at the time, wanted to eat the fudge that I bought with the money I earned? But my father does so much for me and it is selfish not to share with him.

My sister came home after curfew? Well, if I had been a better older sister she wouldn't feel the need to rebel like that.

I don't like to eat cereal because I hate milk? But liking cereal with milk is normal and I can't possibly be abnormal so my father forced me to sit at the table until I had eaten every bit of cereal and drank every drop of milk in the bowl. (I found out years later that I'm lactose intolerant and that's why I hated milk so much growing up.)

I couldn't respond to a text right away because I was at work? Well my father was paying for my phone at the time so I had to answer right away or else he would threaten to disconnect it.

I wanted to tell my family about my day at dinner? But my sister had so much to say and my father didn't want me taking up her valuable time boring her by talking about my day.

My mom took me out to lunch? My father couldn't afford for my mom to be taking me out to eat and I must be trying to get her to divorce him. It was only okay for my father to take people out to lunch, and that's only if they "treated him right" and "deserved for him to pay for their food."

I like watching anime? Then that must be why I can't get a date and I must be watching hentai or (heaven forbid) I must be lesbian because otherwise I'd find a nice religious boy to marry and I wouldn't have time for things like anime.

I wouldn't agree with him that detox baths would literally suck fat cells from his body and make him lose weight? Well, I was a disrespectful daughter and my father threatened to never let me see my mom again.

After growing up in a situation where it was normal for me to be blamed and criticized for every little thing I did, it became a natural response for me to try to anticipate what people around me want to hear and want me to do. If I do or say anything "wrong" then I prepare myself for immediate and severe emotional punishment because that's what I grew up with constantly. I automatically assume everything I do is "wrong" until I realize no punishment has come, and then I can breathe a sigh of relief and hope that I did something right.

That's why dealing with people is so exhausting. That's why my social anxiety is so bad. I hadn't realized until this evening why I'm always so tense and nervous. I was talking to someone about weird habits we have from childhood that helped us survive in tough situations when it hit me that I say "yes" and try to please people to survive. That's why I relate to Yozo in No Longer Human so much: I'm terrified of humans, too. Only instead of playing the clown and trying to make them laugh, I'm trying to please them and make them happy so they won't get mad at me.

#coping with narcissistic abuse #social anxiety #emotional abuse #emotional extortion #I know it sounds really bad to say this but it has been so much easier since my father died #without him here no one is going to punish me for being myself anymore #that means I can do things like talk and spend time with my mom and like anime and books #I'm not constantly wrong all the time and it is so peaceful

23 notes · View notes

heywriters · 2 years

Note

What's your thoughts on New Weird fiction? And do you have any advice on how to write in that genre?

(If the second answer is against your ask policy, it's alright if you only answer the first one. Thank you.)

"New Weird"?

Didn't know that term, so I had to look it up. Turns out, that's the genre of one of my favorite book series, The Southern Reach Trilogy!

It's like nightmare fiction. Trippy, angsty, which-way-is-up fiction. I could not put the first book, Annihilation, down. When I did, my brain was messed up, I felt abnormal and unsafe, convinced my reality was actually crawling with strangely hostile energy. It was awesome. However, I would have to prepare for the melancholic anxiety it put me through if I chose to read it all again.

I know it's "new" but tons of old weird stuff is coming to mind now. First, stuff from the '60s my mother would describe as "nightmarish" or "you had to be high to enjoy it." Then the grim nightmare of Metamorphosis by Kaftka, the opium-addled adventures of Alice in Wonderland. Can I throw "Miss Peregrine's Home..." into the new weird pile? It is perhaps more fantasy than new weird, but it's also more horror/freak-show than magical. Plus, I loved the first book and my tastes are apparently quite weird.

There are so many movies I'd label new weird too, like Jupiter Ascending. So much stuff I can classify now!

Advice for Writing New Weird

It's described as a genre that flips science fiction and fantasy tropes on their heads, sometimes satirically. From that, I say be a reader of spec fic first. Know your tropes so you can twist them into terrifying and absurd shapes. Be willing to commit to the most ridiculous, strange ideas that come to mind. Then take them seriously (or ridiculously).

Be comfortable with discomfort. New weird is often dark and disconcerting. Establish an air of eeriness that will have no rational solution. Unlike horror and thriller where we know we will see the monster at the end or that the trauma will be resolved, new weird stays weird and rarely supplies a come-down. If anxiety is something you struggle with, have ways to come down yourself after each writing session.

New weird stories do not need to explain why they are weird. They use logic sparingly to suspend disbelief in places where reality must be hyperreal to contrast the dreaminess that will follow. Places that hold the story and theme together may need a semblance of stability and relatability to the reader, but mostly the point is that there is no logic, at least not a familiar one. Logic in new weird is entirely up to the author, like their own private language. The reader has to accept that there may never be a satisfying resolution, and be satisfied with open endings and unexplained phenomena.

Emotional catharsis is in high demand. At least, that's what I enjoy about new weird. Experiencing intense, galaxy-brain-meme levels of emotion seems to be a thing for new weird characters. Describing those emotions and what causes them may be difficult for some writers, or great inner exploration for others. When logic, reality, and other factors normally used to tether readers to a story/character are missing, emotion becomes the most relatable tool a writer can employ.

There are worse things than death. Characters in new weird typically go through bizarre transformations, horrifying circumstances, and mind-altering states. The question is often asked, "Is it worse to fall asleep in death, or to live forever as a lonely, deformed monster with warped memories of being human?" and the answer is always "Deformed monster of loneliness! With tentacle wings! And a drinking problem! And distant memories of a happier life where they were a human mother! And those aren't even their memories!" (Now I'm thinking of Lily from Fallout: New Vegas and it's making me sad).

TL;DR --- Be prepared for anxiety and chaos and strong emotions. Stick to a storyline, please, but overall go where the weird takes you.

—

+ Please review my pinned Ask Policy before sending in your ask. Thank you.

+ I'm moving to another state and the process is taking up all my time and money 😥. If you'd be so kind as to Buy Me a Coffee on ko-fi, I'd really, genuinely appreciate it. Trying my best to stay on top of this blog, but might need to take a break for a while...

#writing #writeblr #writing tips #genre #new weird #creative writing #writing blog #writing advice #writing help #spec fic #nanowrimo #writer help #answer #writing question

110 notes · View notes

thescrumblingmidwife · 7 months

Note

what advice would you give to a trans person who is terrified of getting health checks such as pap smears? I'm generally rather touch-averse and that doubled with the dysphoria makes it very scary to think about.

Hi Anon,

This is a topic close to my heart, because I myself am touch-averse and have a trauma response to pelvic examinations. I also want to make sure everyone understands why it's important to get pap smears!

Let's start with what pap smears are, why they're important, and who they are for. Maybe understanding that will be the first step in finding the strength and courage to go through with them.

QUICK ANATOMY & PHYSIOLOGY LESSON - THE PAP SMEAR

What is a pap smear for?

Your cervix is the gateway to your uterus, sitting atop the vagina. It's a thick ring of muscle that is normally closed, opening just a tiny bit for menses to escape (the sensation of the muscle opening is what causes cramps).

Now, the trouble comes when cervical cells have been infected with a virus called human papillomavirus (or HPV) - especially certain "high-risk" strains. HPV is very common in the human population - almost everyone sexually active has had it at some time, with about 50% of infections being a high-risk type. Most people just clear the virus themselves and never even know. But sometimes, this viral infection will start a process of dysplasia (basically growing weird cells), which can be the start of cervical cancer.

The job of a pap smear is to check the cervical cells for dysplastic changes that indicate things might progress towards cancer, or for the virus itself. (What it looks for specifically depends on your age and previous results, but the process is the same for you). When lesions are found early, they are VERY easily treatable. The pap smear saves thousands of lives every year by preventing cervical cancers.

How is a pap smear performed?

A device called a speculum will need to be inserted into your vagina to hold open the walls of the vagina and allow the provider to visualize the cervix. Once this is in place, a soft brush-like device is passed up through the vagina, pressed against the cervix, and swirled around several times to collect cells. This may feel weird or uncomfortable, but shouldn't cause pain. Most people don't feel it at all, the speculum being the worst part. The whole thing takes about one minute.

Separate from the pap smear, the provider may also perform a bimanual exam, which is when they insert fingers from one hand into the vagina while pressing down on the abdomen, to look for masses, abnormalities or tenderness.

Who needs a pap smear?

CURRENTLY (as of 2023), everyone with an intact cervix who is 21 or older is recommended to get pap smears, regardless of gender identity, sexual orientation, or sexual history. Between ages 21-29, you should go every 3 years, and after age 30, every 5 years (depending on results - if you get a positive, you would need more frequent observation).

If you are older than 21 and have never had any kind of sexual contact with anyone at all (including hands, mouths, or sharing toys!), you can discuss with your provider to see if a modified schedule may make sense based on your risk level.

Note: The HPV vaccine may change these recommendations in the future! I strongly recommend getting the vaccine if you have not already!

---

OK, Anon. With that public service announcement out of the way, let's talk about the real meat of your question.

The best thing I can recommend is to take the time to find a provider you vibe with. Someone with whom you feel safe, with whom you have mutual respect. See if your local LGTBQIA+ support group has recommendations, or if any clinics in your area have providers that specialize in LGTBQIA+ or trauma-informed care. Call and ask providers questions about how they handle people who struggle with pelvic exams. Generally, avoid crusty old men.

A good provider will warn you before ever touching any part of your body, go slowly, and ask permission each time, and stop the second you tense up. A GREAT provider will make you feel in control the whole time - they may let you insert the speculum yourself and not make you use stirrups if they're triggering for you. Medical consent is the same as sexual consent - just because you're disrobed in that room doesn't mean you need to let anyone touch you. You do not have to undergo a pap smear with a provider you don't trust. You are allowed to walk away.

Other things to try:

You can ask for a short-acting anti-anxiety medicine, like Xanax, to take before the visit, provided you've got a ride.

You can bring a companion, or ask for a nurse to hold your hand.

Chat nonstop, tell stupid jokes, or listen to music on headphones, whatever kind of distraction works best for you.

Meditate, practice belly breathing, really focus on full body relaxation, especially of the pelvic muscles

Remind yourself that it's one minute every few years for the piece of mind that you won't get cancer.

Be open to the possibility that it won't be as bad as you're fearing.

Know that you are brave and strong. You can do hard things. You can do anything for one minute.

If any other trans folx out there want to share tips with Anon for how to navigate gynecologic exams, please share!

#reproductive health #sex education #midwifery #gynecologic care #pap smear #pelvic exams #gender affirming care #lgtbqia+#transgender #trans health care

11 notes · View notes

torakan · 56 minutes

Text

PART TWO!! TEXT VERSION

it was so long since i posted the first one haha hope you didn’t forget 🥲🥲

again, if there’re any mistakes - please tell me ^^

part 1

part 2 art

The next 24 hours all I did was hiding in the wall even though I was quite literally starving. You can’t blame me though, I was fearful for my life, okay? After such a day anyone would have stayed in bed and questioned their life choices…

However, it was pretty much a life and death situation, so I had to get up and find something before deciding if I should stay here or find new home. It’s a decision that you can’t take on an empty stomach, every borrower knows that.

Before you ask, I wasn’t worried all that much about this guy telling other people about me as seeing small people is quite abnormal for people and in best case nobody would’ve believed him, in worst… he would’ve probably ended up in hospital, but we will never know.

So, like that, I collected my thoughts, emotions and gear and went out on another attempt to get food. To be honest, i think my stomach was at the point of acceptance, I didn’t feel any hunger until I finally got to the kitchen counter and saw some fruits. Human wasn’t there but it didn’t mean anything to me anymore, I was too traumatized by yesterday’s experience. *Sighs dramatically*.

Maybe because the day before was extremely unlucky, I was rewarded with something delicious. There were grapes which are super convenient to borrow as humans won’t see any of them missing, some raisins and nuts. I took one grape right away and my stomach growled so loudly, even a half-deaf human granny would’ve heard, I swear. I bit it and transparent juice started to run down my chin which I wiped off right away. It was such a relief to finally eat something, I can’t describe this feeling honestly. Better would probably be the feeling of relief after you endured your piss or, even worse, poo, for an indescribable long time and then you finally get to the toilet and it’s just… ahh.

Anyway, back to the story. As I said, I finally had access to food, but I couldn’t afford to fill my stomach to the fullest at that exact moment since it would’ve been too difficult to climb back home in that case. That’s why I only ate one grape and took another one home as well as a couple of raisins and some nuts. And then the idea popped in my head. What it I left some food that can be stored for a long time to that one my favourite hiding spot? I thought it was a smart decision since in the case I ran out of supplies or had to make an urgent stop I would have something edible waiting for me. So, with that I went straight to the place where human saw me not so long ago. Imagine my surprise when I saw that he left something there. On the other hand, it was quite expected… I was terrified to even look at it yet alone touch, but I couldn’t avoid the smell it had. I tried something like this only at my 10th birthday and my mom told me it was chocolate that we ate as a treat. It was some kind of desert that beans eat for pleasure. Maybe the human I lived with wanted to poison me with that? Or to somehow use it to make me become his pet? I still wonder about this at night, but even though I was really curious about that “offering”, I was more interested in surviving, so I went straight up behind the books where there was a small niche for me to hide. I placed all the things carefully and returned to the counter to pick some more. This day was pretty chill since the human showed up at his usual time and didn’t bother. He was as quiet and relaxed as ever with the only difference, that when he was in the kitchen, I could have heard the music from his phone. It wasn’t unpleasant, on the contrary, I liked it. The guy hummed along with it and his voice wasn’t so bad either to be honest, so I just lay in bed and listened till I fell asleep.

For the next few days nothing weird happened, everything seemed to go back to normal with the only difference that now the human was openly listening to music and sometimes sing very quietly along with it. I didn’t hate it, it didn’t bother me, so it was fine. Till that one day when I was, again, hiding behind the books (I swear, that spot must be cursed, but it was too dear for me to give up and abandon it) after taking a shower in human’s sink in the bathroom and being already on my way home. He showed up in the house earlier today again and I just barely had time to react and hide. When he entered the kitchen, I already sensed that something was off. The way he threw the keys on the table, how he tossed the bag on the floor and his jacket on the couch showed that he was really frustrated about something. Honestly, he was quite scary in that mood, though I didn’t see him being like that too often. Hell, I only remember that happening once in the whole year and I was in the walls, safe but watching this up close was kinda… unsettling.

However, to my surprise, that didn’t last for too long. The guy calmed himself down within like five minutes or so, trying to take deep breaths, then he sat on the chair at the table and… yeah, he started crying. He was crying very quietly, as was everything he did, holding back tears and sobs, as if he was scared someone might hear him…

wait a minute… do you think he might’ve been thinking about me? He definitely couldn’t have forgotten out encounter, right?

I sighed. This human wasn’t making my life any easier. It’s not like I was pitying him or anything, humans are monstrous creatures, evil and cruel and every borrower knew that… Nah, lying has never been one of my strengths so, frankly, I did feel bad for him. This human didn’t try to do anything nasty to me for the whole week, which was a complete opposite of what I heard about them, so I couldn’t help but hope that he wasn’t that awful. I suddenly got curious about him. If he had so many opportunities to catch me and hurt me, why didn’t he do that already? And why was he crying right now? Was he hurt or something? Is human life that difficult? Borrowers usually aren’t sentimental, we only cry on very rare special occasions such as when we’re badly hurt or it’s a deadly situation, or when we break two or more bones at once and there’s no one for us to help to escape and we’re left there to die alone. But this guy didn’t seem to be physically hurt or in any danger, so why was he sobbing?

I couldn’t help it and finally set my eyes on the “offering”. It turned out to be a small round box, which most likely was a human bottle cape with some continents: a piece of chocolate (as I already knew) and a note. Oh no, he wanted to communicate… so it could’ve been a trap in the end… even so, I was already beyond fixing and too far from following the borrower rules, so maybe it wont hurt if I read it just this once…

thank you for reading ^^

comments and suggestions are appreciated

@gtzel @smallsday

#g/t #g/t community #borrowers #gt community #giant tiny #giant/tiny #gt writing #tiny #ocs #oc #my ocs #borrower

4 notes · View notes