#because drafts are for the mentally healthy

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

#Danny I AM RETIRED FROM MURDER Fenton #the informants are ghosts #the thing about deductive reasoning is sometimes you deduct incorrectly #particularly when you don't know about the ghosts #danyal al ghul #damian wayne #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #bruce wayne #this is an au where damian doesn't get blown up and lose most of his vital organs #like bruce still isn't a super responsible parent but no nine year olds blow up so that's something #danny: he only blew up once so he can stay with you #batman: he did get speared straight through but we fixed it #danny: he wHAT #i wrote this instead of eating dinner #because drafts are for the mentally healthy #tbh i don't think his name would be danyal al ghul in this one #he's trying really hard to stay under the radar I don't think he would choose essentially a homonym

[azumasoroshi]

was in the sound crew for a performance this evening and we had some difficulties with mics like we always do

but i think these kinds of student-run performances are like. so indicative of the inherent goodwill of people and it’s gorgeous

like we were trying to figure out why someone’s mic wasn’t working (there were no teachers with us btw and we had a grand total of two 2 hour rehearsals in the past 3 days before opening night and i could only attend one and there were three sound people overall so. yeah we were hard panicking in there) and we took a bit too long

and one of the audience members stood up and was like hey guys can you fix this first so the girl can be audible lmfao

in some other crowds people would just clap at the end and pretend they heard her but not this one!! they wanted to let her sing!!

and when the music stopped everyone still clapped and cheered for the girl even though no one could hear shit and they did it multiple times other the course of her fixed performance

and then there was this other boy who was playing piano and he had to stop a few times because of some sheet music troubles (he was reading on an ipad and i couldnt really tell what was going on from way back in the sound booth but it was some issue with viewing) and he got kinda thrown off after that so you could tell he was making bunch of mistakes

but people would clap anyways when he was like. panicking and trying to get the app to work or get back on track and you could hear some of his friends yelling “YOU GOT THIS” and stuff like that!!

and he had this really sheepish expression on his face when he finished the song but the whole audience whooped and clapped super loudly for him anyway

and like. neither of them are super popular or anything so it’s really just strangers being supportive

it’s lovely because i know i would’ve really appreciated people still being supportive even when i fucked up my songs during concerts lmfaodgjdjhgsd instead people just stared silently the whole time and watched me fumble until i finally got to the end and then clapped politely

like yeah orchestral/solo violin concerts and culture performance nights have very different atmospheres and audiences and that’s intentional but while i don’t think i could ever perform in a formal concert again, i would love to perform in a performance night again because it’s such a supportive environment

to speak nothing of how useful cheering actually is to a panicking/embarrassed performer bihdgjsh i wouldnt know because it only happened to me like once but i was so absorbed in trying not to trip up on my words that i barley heard the cheering

but it really does just show a lot of good will towards other people and i adore it

#izaya’s been like. affecting my mental state lately #in like a healthy way though because now i look at social situations and im like man arent humans beautiful. isn’t this gorgeous #they dont even have to be positive like this was #i havent been as active lately because graduation is coming up and by extensino a fuckton of work and events #but rest assured i am still suffering from shizaya brainrot #i have so many drafted posts just for them lmfao #anyway #soro rambles

[astrobydalia]

more observations (lost count)✨

Hello guys! Life's been crazy lately and I barely have time to make any of the master posts I wanted to, so you'll be getting lost of observation posts that I've been collecting in my drafts for the past months. As always, enjoy!

❗️long post

work by astrobydalia

✨ Sagittarius and Aquarius are so fucking similar. Both of them are chaotic af, love their freedom and think they're smarter than everyone else. People who have both of these in their big 6 have the most unhinged

✨ Libra is WAY more obsessed with perfection than Virgo

✨ Whenever I had Libra or Taurus ASC on my Solar return chart I was lazy AS FUCK. I had no motivation to work whatsoever during those years, all I wanted to do was vibe and enjoy life. I also felt very relaxed and stress-free, when difficulties came I just went with the flow

✨ What is up with Gemini risings and always feeling intellectually insecure all the time? Literally their #1 insecurity is feeling like they are dumb or like they’re not good enough for highly abstract and intellectual tasks/professions. They come across as someone immature who lacks wisdom or has a superficial/simplistic view of things. I feel like this is because they attract people who are a bit of know-it-alls (Sagittarius DSC) and they have a reputation for being scattered-brained (Pisces 10th house) so people tent to infantilize them a lot.

^^^But let me tell you this not true at all, Gemini risings are some of the most brilliant people I’ve met with so much potential. Their problem is that they allow overthinking to get the best of them and end up doubting themselves 24/7. These are the type of people who have amazing ideas but they never pursue any them. They really struggle making decisions for themselves, they always need to ask for opinions first which is not a bad thing but this makes them come across as incapable or as someone who lacks self-sufficiency

✨ Mercurial signs (Virgo and Gemini) like to focus on concrete things and immediate reality, they process life by connecting one thing at a time and taking info as it comes, they focus on what's going on around them cause Mercury is all about multiplicity and details. With Jupiter signs on the other hand (Sag and Pisces) one thing about them is they don't care about details as long as things make sense as a whole, they see life from a more broad and general perspective, they prefer having a birds eye view of things because Jupiter is all about expansion and therefore it likes to encompass many things at once. This is why Virgo and Gemini rule mundane life themes and immediate reality while Sag and Pisces are more about general life lessons and higher knowledge

✨ Scorpio moons/8th house moons are the definition of an energy vampire fr. They just have a really poor understanding of healthy emotional boundaries, they expect you to give your all but aren't willing to reciprocate and always turn everything into a manipulation or mind game somehow which makes it pretty exhausting to be around them in the long run. Don't get me wrong, most of the ones I’ve met were very and good people but they always end up taking my energy away and make me feel emotionally burnt out

✨ Mercury-Mars aspects have this "it is what it is" mentality and really dislike over complicating things by reading too deep into them. They tend to think things exactly as they seem. This does not mean they're simplistic, on the contrary this makes them surprisingly insightful fast thinkers and are not the type to be easily fooled

✨ I've seen people saying that hard aspects between Mercury-Pluto makes people misunderstand your words. This is not true, this happens with Neptune cause Neptune rules delusion, but Pluto is a very blunt and straightforward planet cause it's all about revealing the dark truths. Mercury-Pluto aspects makes someone very deliberate with their words and they know exactly what to say to make their message stick. You will understand their words exactly how they want you to understand them. What happens with hard aspects is that the native tends to have a more provocative approach in the things they say, they don't care if you're offended by what they say as long as what they say makes an impact. People can misunderstand their intentions because of this, but not their words

✨ The ironic thing about Aquarius placements is that they are very good when it comes to connecting with the masses, the public usually feels very drawn to them because they're very good at appealing to collective values which makes them come across as relatable to many people as a result. However, when you actually try to relate to them or connect one-on-one, you will find yourself with someone that is surprisingly elusive, distant and more distrustful than Scorpio placements which is a huge contrast from the welcoming vibe they give off to the public. I've found that the only way you will get close to an Aquarius placements is on THEIR terms lmao, if they've decided they like you, it'll be them who will approach you and/or make the effort to engage with you

✨ A reocurring thing I've seen with Virgo placements is that they really dislike big changes and prefer to stay in control. I think this is not mentioned often cause it's kinda weird to say that about a mutable sign, but Virgos being mercury+earth ruled they feel comfortable relying on facts, data, observations, etc and they use all this tangible info to navigate reality, that's why they rule daily life and routines because they invest a lot of their energy on factually understanding and categorizing their reality (earth signs in general are very attached to the tangible). Their mutable nature shows in that they easily use their knowledge to adapt, find solutions and fix what’s wrong but when they are in situations where these "categories" prove to be useless (aka Pisces themes), they get very triggered cause that means they no longer have control of their reality

✨ That being said another reoccurring thing I’ve noticed with Virgo placements is that they love to predict things. But not in a mystical sense it’s more like they enjoy understanding things in such way that they’re able to easily put a label on them and easily predict what’s going on or how something works

✨ I have not seen a single Taurus placement who didn’t have the most insanely sexy and pleasant voice ever. Doesn’t matter if they sing of not, just hearing their voice is so delightful

✨ Aquarius Mercury really believe their opinions are the most ultimate and correct opinions out there. They are certain that their judgment is always 100% objective (aka always true) so in their mind if you slightly disagree with them that means you’re mediocre, dumb or narrow-minded.

✨ There's always a duality in all mutable signs. Sagittarius can be very humorous and optimistic but also very dark and profound. Gemini can be curious and chaotic but also very analytical and logical. Virgo can be picky and perfectionistic but also very permissive and conformist. Pisces can be very compassionate and wise but also very detached and clueless

✨ Neptune does not do well in air houses/signs at all simply because air energy rules (different types of) information and connections, while Neptune is all delusion and confusion. Also air energy is purely cerebral and rational while Neptune appeals to the unconscious

✨ I have not fact-checked this but I feel like it's safe to say that Mars rules testosterone. Testosterone is a hormone associated to violence or impulsive behavior, sex drive, red blood cells (blood), masculinity, etc That's literally all mars

✨ People always talk about how Capricorn moons have had a rough life but I've noticed this is also very true for Sagittarius Moons?? Responsibilities are not imposed on them like Capricorn, in their case they have to build up wisdom about life through pure and raw experience without anyone giving them a heads up or any pointers first, that's why they grow up feeling like they're fully on their own. Things work out for them at the end but they always have most MESSY life experience it's really crazy

✨ Both domicile and afflicted Mars are ambitious and determined but the main difference is that Libra/Taurus/Cancer Mars need to find some type of enjoyment or fulfillment in their goals in order to get motivated while Capricorn/Aries/Scorpio Mars find motivation in the challenge and endure through stuff they don't find pleasant

✨ From what I've seen males with Scorpio placements are very superficial and will gaslight as a lifestyle. They are the type of people who look the other way or brush things off or never takes anything seriously and I've noticed they do this so they never have to take accountability.

✨ Neptune/Pisces energy either gives “glamorous and ethereal” vibes or “weird in an extremely cringe way” vibes, there’s no in-between

✨ A reoccurring thing I've noticed with those who have Chiron in Taurus/2nd house or Chiron-Venus is that they often have dubious morality or double standards because they don't have a solid values

✨ Every single Libra Moon/rising female I’ve met embodied the material girl stereotype. They really have this “instagram girl” vibes to them if that makes sense

✨ Those with Sagittarius in the 5th house can actually find a lot of joy and happiness in becoming parents or they have a lot of fun with children

✨ Scorpio Mars can't stand not knowing what's going on around them and at first I thought this was bc they were suspicious/paranoid but then I realized it’s because they’re just controlling as shit. They come across as very chill and care fee but they’re actually SUPER controlling dude. Even when they know for sure that they can trust you and you’re doing nothing wrong they still want to keep taps on you and won’t leave you alone. They won't bluntly violate your privacy but will still find ways to always know what you're up to

✨ The resentful and spiteful stereotype associated to Scorpio actually belongs to Leo placements imo. They can be very reactive and childish when you insult their ego and will make it very known that they won't let it go

✨ Cancer North Node people always have some sort of issue or inner conflict with of having kids. They feel drawn to the idea of becoming a parent but deep down they low-key don't? I've also seen many women with this placement who had fertility issues

I have the theory that these natives are conflicted in this topic because they see family as an achievement or a societal expectation (Capricorn south node) so in this life time they have to know what it's like to desire a family for the right reasons and not because they feel like they 'should'

✨ Capricorn risings really are hyper-aware of their public image and how others perceive them. That's why they always end up becoming very popular and respected, cause they know very well where they "stand" publicly so they know how to successfully curate their own reputation. It's not surprising to see this placement a lot in celebrities

✨ Pluto in the 12th house are genuinely unsure of who they can trust which leads to a lot of paranoia and projection. The type to ignore the most obvious red flags but then automatically doubt your loyalty cus you spoke in a suspicious tone

✨ Pisces/12th house placements 🤝 disappearing. Y’all shit on Gemini for ghosting but have you ever met a pisces/12th houser?

✨ Saturn in 5th house people had parents (namely father) who were overly critical of them and their self-expression. Doesn’t necessarily mean they were unsupportive of the native but they were quite hard on the native’s creativity

✨ I've seen a lot of bullies/mean girls have Aquarius placements. Honorable mentions: virgo, Leo, libra

✨ Neptune-ASC people are really good at making themselves invisible when they want and/or making parts of themselves go completely unnoticed even if they're bluntly obvious. I've noticed they actually get away with a lot cause they have this tendency to not be accurately seen by others if that makes sense

✨ Neurodivergent individuals usually have Mercury harshly aspecting (conjunction, square, opposition and inconjuction) Uranus and Saturn. Said Mercury is more often than not in a water house/sign/degree or in Aries. Of course not everyone with these aspects will be neurodivergent, but it's just a pattern I've seen

✨ Pluto-ASC people most of the times fail to have a lighthearted view towards life. They always want to look beyond the surface of things which doesn't really allow them to enjoy life as it is. They often get a reputation for looking too deep into everything and in turn the Pluto-asc native often sees others as superficial

✨ Virgo risings are huge conformist and won’t go after anything that’s outside their immediate boundaries. They only make an effort towards things that are accessible and will quickly lose interest in anything that has difficult availability or requires them to go way out of their comfort zone. They're overall pretty self-serving.

✨ I know several people diagnosed with OCD. All of them have Virgo AND 6th house placements, 22º in their big 3, Scorpio Mercury/Moon and Mercury dominance

work by astrobydalia

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia #scorpio #astronotes

[hoony2k]

Call me Lovesick?

Tending to their significant other who's unwell due to flu season. How would they do it?

Pairing: hyung line

Genre: fluff/comfort

Word Count: 1282 (total)

Warnings: mentions of sickness (throwing up).

Note: hii <3 hope everyone's been well! I had this marinating half complete in my drafts, I had forgotten about it. but here it is. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Heeseung:

He'd get so worried about you but at the same time, he's kind of giddy because he gets to take care of you even more than usual.

Tucks you in and helps you to the washroom even if you can stand. Will ignore your protests and continues to help, "I know you can but I'm here aren't I?" 

Can not stop himself from brushing your hair out of your face and hand-feeding your soup, gently blowing on it. Tries the airplane hack and you give him a deadpan look but he laughs at his joke.

Definitely pulls the "I told you so card" every time you try to avoid medicine or eating because you feel too sick to do anything.  

"I told you eating ice cream during a snow storm was a bad idea". "maybe there's a reason people don't eat from sketchy hidden vendors even if the prices are cheap!" 

But either way, when he's not nagging your ears off, he's being the sweetest bf ever. 

Very observant about your condition, and constantly checks your temperature to see if you're improving or not. 

Entertains you by sharing silly childhood stories, messages the boys sent and sings you to sleep with his honey voice. 

Rubs your back to help you sleep, the warmth that radiates from him is so soothing.

Jay:

For a second he's shocked that you're sick...like on his watch? How was he careless? 🤨

Activates his inner nurse and tends to you like a newborn kitten and you have to tell him to calm down. (even if you like the treatment and attention).

Makes you warm broth soup, thick creamy soup, rice porridge, slices sweet apples, ginger lemon grass tea and you wonder if you should get sick all the time if it’s going to be such a healthy and delicious experience.

It doesn't matter if you can't taste the flavours properly.

Places a trash can nearby with a tray of mouthwash and tissues in case. He wants to be prepared for anything!

Doesn’t allow himself to sleep unless you fall asleep first and ensures you lay on your side rather than on your back.

Tries his hardest to calm your humiliation when you throw up because it's normal! “Nothing to be ashamed about!” He keeps reminding you he doesn't see you differently even at this moment of vulnerability. Makes him instantly 100x more attractive.

Jay is a major act of service guy so when he’s not tending to you, he’s mentally planning ahead -> prepping your next week's outfits/irons them for when you get better soon, makes small portions of your favourite food and stores them in your fridge because he knows you’ll be on low energy even when you get better. Cleans the apartment for you.

Is so patient with you. During tantrums to avoid medicine he'll bribe you with kisses and if that doesn't work he'll just crush the tablet if you can’t swallow it to add in your food, becomes 100x times more creative. Though he sighs a lot he means well as he bribes you with juice as compensation for the disgusting taste.  😭

Jake:

So worried that the crease between his eyebrows doesn't leave until you recover. Each time you cough, his pout deepens and it's the cutest thing ever.

He hates how much pain you're in and wants to take it away, wants to endure it in your place but that's not possible so he pulls out his phone to search for the best ways to deal with sick loved ones.

Uses Wikihow, he does not care because your health comes before looking desperate. Willing to do every thing by the book until he sees your discomfort and almost...almost gives in but you need to eat to get better!

It kills a part of him when he forces you to take medicine or when you shiver as he wipes your heated arms/forehead with a wet cloth. 

“I know it’s cold but you’ll feel so much better soon. I promise”. 

He fears something awful will happen if he turns away so he never leaves your side even when you sleep. It's so comforting to wake up to his loving presence.

His eye bags are a depressing sight but Jake is stubborn and claims that he wants to do these things for you, it’s bittersweet but it’s love.  

Massages your shoulders and legs to lull you into a deep sleep, hopes you might recover faster if your body recharges. 

There are moments when he tries to cook a sick dish he’s never cooked before and it turns out awful. He can’t have his baby eating that so he whips up soup he’s made before and anticipates your reaction. 

Tries to hand-feed you but gets too giddy and shy, covers his face with his hand when you make eye contact and you near yelp as he tilts the spoon. Never again. 

Watches your favourite shows you’ve missed out on and narrates the episodes to you, there’s no way he’s letting your burnt-out eyes get a hint of screen that isn’t your text messages/calls. They’re more important than a show you can watch later. 

Despite your worries about infecting him, he pulls you to rest on his chest as he plays with your hair and talks about all the places, he wants to take you out to in the future. 

SUNGHOON:

He tries his best to convey an image of rationality but internally he’s panicking losing each sane fibre of being. 

Can NOT stop thinking about horrible situations so he needs a small session where he's alone and hyping himself up and pretends safer and happier scenarios.

After that he immediately switches and becomes the poster caretaker, literally knowing exactly what to do.

Sunghoon pays keen interest to your expressions and body language, waiting for the next sign of discomfort or pain. 

As an elder sibling, he has the urge to protect and has taken care of others before so this isn’t anything new but, it’s you. It’s not a friend or a family member, it’s the love of his life who needs his attentive help so, he has to approach you like you’re made out of glass. 

Reminisces of days when he took care of his sister and almost tore up and you ask him what the hell was wrong and he's like "Oh how fast time flies by" like ??? Ok 

Already had a cabinet stocked with flu/allergy medicine so he doesn’t need to worry about leaving you alone and buying medicine. Sunghoon would try to avoid strong medicine until it’s advised by a doctor. Definitely tries home remedies his parents used on him during his sick childhood years. 

A firm believer in soul food healing so he orders it or makes it often. 

Thinks back to all the ways this could have been avoided and the what-if situations make him recall all the fun you two would have together. Instead of sulking, he gets motivated to work harder to ease your pain.

Cramps? A heating pad is available. Back hurts? Will massage the pain away. Head and eyes hurt? Be ready to get serenaded to sleep by his voice. 

Although he understands the importance of checking up on you, he knows how irritating it is to constantly hover around someone. So in instances where Sunghoon, can feel that you’re overwhelmed or want privacy, he’ll leave the room and do whatever he usually does. He’s ready to wait until you’re emotionally recharged and call for his company. 

When Sunghoon returns, he’s beaming with a bright smile and a story to tell you. 

Sickness or not, he’s still big on affection and ignores your worries for him as he hugs you, touches you or kisses your cheeks.

thank you for reading!

please do not edit/translate/copy.

#k-labels #enha works #enha imagines #enhypen #enha scenarios #enha fluff #enha angst #enha x reader #enha headcanons #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen fics #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagines #sunghoon #heeseung #jay park #jake sim #jaeyun #jungwon #sunoo #niki #heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #jay scenarios #jake sim scenarios #sunghoon scenarios

[lunaviee]

CAFFEINE — ft. rin itoshi

⨳ cw; reader shakes, mentions of not eating, dialogue heavy

⨳ not proofread

⨳ heavily based off of me bc i shake so bad when i have caffeine LMAOO

“you’re shaking.” rin states, giving you a side glare while you’re writing an essay.

“oh. i am.” you stare at your hands for a few seconds, watching as they twitch when you stop typing. your eyes flick back to the screen and continue clicking away.

rin’s frown deepens a bit and he cant help but stare at you as you ignore the trembles. he sighs heavily in annoyance and grabs the coffee cup sitting in front of you.

“you got this caffeinated…” he mumbles, “you’re not supposed to be having caffeine. it’s what makes you shake.” he places the cup down continues to look at you, watching your every move.

rin’s always been observant. he notices the small twinkle in your eyes when you realize your favorite pastry is in stock. he notices the forced smile you give people when you’re far past your social limit for the day. the way you pout a bit when you’re focused.

and the way the you tremble after you realize you forgot to tell the barista you’d like your coffee decaf because it makes you incredibly shaky.

“well….i need the caffeine this time.” you mutter, trying to excuse your forgetfulness.

“need it? for what?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow at you.

“so i don’t fall asleep while writing my essay”

“uh huh….right” he doesn’t believe you. and you know he doesn’t. and he knows that you know that. “did you eat before you got your coffee?”

you pause your typing, watching as your tremors get worse. “um….yes” you glance at him, though he cuts you off. “one macaron we bought at that new bakery doesn’t count.” he’s put his phone down and is now completely focused on you.

“it’s better than nothing” you sigh, throwing your head back against the couch cushion. “well it might as well have been nothing, you’re shaking worse than normal” you couldn’t even argue with that because you were in fact shaking a lot more. you sat in silence and your computer screen started going dim. “just take a break and eat something.” he deadpans, reaching for your laptop.

rin was always very supportive of how you treated your body as long as you were happy and healthy. he’s always been like that, making sure you make the right decisions fit for your body. but drinking caffeine with no food was growing to be a bad habit of yours. and he had to stop it.

“but i-”

“don’t argue, your essay can wait and we both know you hate the shaking.” he holds his hand out, waiting for you to place the laptop in his hand. you stay still, hands slowly gripping onto the keyboard tighter.

rin sighs, knowing there’s one thing that would get you off of the couch. he’s looking at you with his signature blank expression, “if you stop, we can go to the cat cafe you saw last week…” his heart swells a bit at the sight of your eyes regaining their signature twinkle.

“really?” you grin, immediately shutting off your laptop and placing it on the floor. rin nods, trying not to smile at your reaction. “okay, let’s go!” and just like that, you’re off of the couch and shuffling to your shared bedroom to change.

rin stays on the couch for a few moments, now mentally preparing for the amount of “we should get a cat” comments he’s about to receive from you. but it’s worth it, he thinks, as long as you’re happy and healthy.

soon, you’re both ready to leave and you’re still shaking. though this time, it’s mostly from excitement <3

ִ ࣪𖤐 omg…hey guys…..okay this was sitting in my drafts for WEEKS and i needed to post it🤞anyways i was never here i’m back on break kay bye love youuu

#very self indulgent #i need him actually #sorry for writing this instead of the smau lol #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin fluff #bllk rin fluff

[vilevenom]

Hello @90svn!! Thank you for your request and sweet comment ❤️

I took this request as a personal challenge, because Trollex has a whole 5 minutes of screentime in World Tour, and only maybe eight voice lines. Very hard to get a good read on a character with such a short appearance, but I did my best!

Hope you enjoy!~

To say that Clay felt overwhelmed was putting it mildly. Reuniting with his brothers had been one thing. Heck, even reintegrating the putt putt trolls with pop village had been a drain on his mental and social batteries, but he'd muddled through. However, following Viva along to royal meet and greets and council meetings was just too much. He felt out of his depths in so many ways. Sure, he'd helped co-run the golf course, and a lot of the rules and regulations that kept the place stable had been his doing, but there was just so much more to all of the other kingdoms. Not to mention the fact that he didn't really feel like the other leaders necessarily took him and Viva seriously. He was an ex-boyband member with no political background, and Viva had been unintentionally usurped as queen by her younger sister. They didn't exactly fit the standard leader stereotypes.

This latest meeting, to discuss territory laws and transportation between kingdoms had initially intrigued Clay, and when Viva all but begged him to go with her so she wouldn't be bored, he'd happily agreed. Now he sort of wished he'd stayed home. As much as he had thoughts on what was going on, absolutely no one in the room paid he or Viva much, if any, mind. They were treated more like Poppy's entourage than leaders of a subdivision of Pop trolls. Even Branch was getting asked more questions than either of them.

He was about to suggest to Viva that they leave, since no one seemed to really care what they had to say, when the door to the meeting room burst open, and the king of the techno trolls floated in, grin on his face.

"Sorry I'm late," Trollex laughed as he moved across the room to take his seat, "Last nights rave went on a bit longer than I had anticipated."

Clay rolled his eyes, sinking down further into his seat. He'd seen the techno king from afar a few times before, but he never struck Clay as the type to take anything seriously. He was always talking about the parties the techno trolls threw, never seeming to have a serious thought in his head. He figured, from here, the meeting could only go further downhill.

He, of course, hadn't been paying attention to what was being said due to his miserable ruminating, so hadn't caught that he'd been directly addressed. Not until Viva elbowed him squarely in the rub cage, anyway. He grunted, sitting himself up with a quick frown shot to his best friend, who simply grinned back at him. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said," Trollex waved his hand at Clay to get his attention, his previous grin and chipper attitude seemingly gone, "What do you think about the implication of having trolls of multiple genres potentially staying all in one place? Since regional customs and attitudes are so wildly different, it opens up a massive amount of safety concerns. Viva said you were the best troll to talk to, outside maybe Branch, about what sort of measures could be kept in place to make sure everyone stays happy and healthy."

Clay perked up as Trollex spoke, not having expected the king to ask such an insightful question, especially not to him. Perhaps his first impression of the king had been all wrong. "Well, there are a lot of different things we'd have to keep in mind for such an undertaking…"

~

Trollex, it turned out, was an incredibly insightful king. Throughout the entire meeting he lobbed questions to several of the kingdom rulers, and directed most, if not all, concerns in regards to safety to Clay. All in all, he felt pretty good when the meeting came to a close, as they had several rough documents drafted up for new inter-kingdom laws.

So, it threw Clay off a little when Trollex floated past him, wide grin on his face and headphones over his ears, flipping a glowstick between his fingers, like he hadn't just been discussing transgenre rights barely five minutes prior. He froze when the kings eyes landed on him, his shoulders unconsciously hiking up to his ears as he was approached.

"Hey, hey! Clay, my man," Trollex crowed, only lowering his volume once he pulled his headphones away from his ears, "Nice work today, yo. Usually Branch is the only one who can figure out all that nuance-y regulatory stuff."

"Yeah, well. Boring legal stuff is my jam," he said with a little laugh while throwing up a peace sign and sticking his tongue out without even realizing what he was doing. He quickly straightened up, a flush forming on his cheeks as a grin slowly spread across Trollex's face.

"Yeah, bro! Nice," Trollex laughed, reaching over to shake Clay's shoulder gently in a friendly gesture, "Live your best life, yo. Speaking of, you should come on by Techno Reef sometime soon! We've got some bangin' raves comin' up. Would love to see how you unwind."

"Haha, yeah," Clay forced a smile onto his face, giving the king a little nod.

"Sweet! I'll send word to Pop Village with dates for the next big one! It's gonna be LIT," Trollex called out, earning whoops from some of the trolls milling near the meeting hall. He laughed as he put his headphones back on, tossing Clay a glow stick as he began to bob his head in time with his music, shooting him finger guns before floating away.

Clay didn't even register when Viva appeared next to him. "Ooooh, does Mr.Clay have a date?"

"Cupcakes!" Clay dropped the glowstick in favor of slapping a hand to his chest, "Viva! Ugh…we seriously need to get you a bell, girl."

Viva simply cackled at him, poking him in the side until he couldn't hold back his laughter and swatted her away. "Well?" she prompted as she took a step back to let Clay catch his breath.

Clay sighed and bent to pick up the fallen glowstick, shrugging a bit. "Pretty sure it was a general party invitation, Viv. Not a date request."

"Well, you gotta start somewhere," Viva chirped, wrapping both of her arms around one of Clays. "What do you think about him, anyway? He totally seems right up your alley."

"What?! How?" Clay asked with a laugh, arching an eyebrow at Viva curiously.

"Oh, well, you know," Viva hummed, resting her head on Clay's shoulder, "He's a party guy, sure, but you saw him in the meeting. He seems like he really takes his responsibilities seriously. I figured you'd admire him for that."

Clay gingerly twirled the glowstick between his fingers. "Yeah. I guess that's true…"

~

"Hey! The party has arrived!"

Clay couldn't help but cringe at Trollex's shout, offering an awkward wave as the king swam over to greet the small group of pop trolls that had travelled down to Techno Reef. Clay had been the one to officially receive the invitation, surprisingly, but it had said that anyone from Pop village was welcome, so he'd asked Poppy to spread word that any troll who wanted to could go. In the end, Clay, Viva, Poppy, Branch, and a smattering of villagers had all decided to go.

"Welcome to Techno Reef! We've got glow sticks for days, and the party's always poppin'," Trollex called with a laugh, tossing a handful of glowsticks out, which gently floated down into the waiting pop trolls hands. "If ya'll would follow Leguna, she'll show you to the accommodations we've prepared for your stay."

A purple techno troll swam forward and gestured for everyone to follow her, which Clay was about to do when he was stopped by a hand on his wrist. He paused and turned in surprise to find Trollex with a large grin on his face.

"I'm really glad you accepted my invitation," the king hummed, releasing Clay's arm and floating backwards slightly.

"Uh," Clay said smartly, glancing around quickly to find Viva shooting his a thumbs up while giggling with her sister, "Thanks, man. Me too. I'm real curious about your culture and it's really cool to finally get to see some of the other kingdoms."

Trollex chuckled, nodding a little as he pulled a glow bracelet off from around his own wrist, swimming forward to secure it around Clay's. "Well, if you've got any questions, you know who to come find," he said with a little wink. Clay was endlessly glad for the darkness of the water around them as his cheeks flushed, just before Trollex swam away.

"I think he likes you."

"VIVA! A BELL! Damn."

~

Raves were, apparently, not Clay's cup of tea. Perhaps when he was younger, before, well, everything, he would've loved a good rave. But older, serious boy Clay was not having the best of times. Branch wasn't, either, but Poppy had dragged him and Viva off almost the moment they had reached the large area that the party was taking place in (He had a feeling the sisters were conspiring against him, somehow). Which left Clay, alone, at the edge of the dance floor, awkwardly watching and wishing he could covers his ears from the loud bass. Unfortunately, the helmets the visiting pop trolls had to wear in order to even be down in the reef impeded his ability to do so.

He was debating on heading back to the rooms the techno trolls had prepared for them, when Trollex appeared out of the crowd, swimming over once he spotted Clay.

"Heyyy, Live Wire!" Trollex shouted over the music with a grin, "There you are!"

"Live Wire?" Clay echoed, arching an eyebrow at Trollex, who grinned wider, his cheeks glowing slightly.

"Yeah, man! Your rave name! Everyone's gotta have a rave name, and you've got the best hair. So, Live Wire," the king explained, swimming forward to tap at the side of Clay's helmet, where his hair was bunched up against the glass.

"I assume you're making fun of me, 'cause my hair stands up like I got electrocuted?" Clay snarked, folding his arms over his chest, not looking the least amount amused.

"What? No? Why would I make fun of you?" Trollex tilted his head like a confused cuddle pup. This gave Clay pause, dropping his arms to his sides.

"I, uhm…I guess I don't know," Clay admitted, shrugging a little. He chewed on his lip a little as Trollex gave him a contemplative look.

"Let's get out of here," the king said, just loud enough for Clay to hear, before he reached out and grabbed both of Clay's hands. With a smile he began to swim backwards, pulling Clay up along through the water after him.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Clay yelped, kicking his feet to try and keep himself from dropping back down through the water and onto the dancefloor. This pulled a delighted laugh from Trollex, who shook his head.

"Just relax. I've got you," Trollex hummed, sliding his hands down Clay's arms until he had a hold on the green trolls elbows, while shifting his position so he was half swimming beneath Clay. "You'll be okay, Live Wire. I won't let you sink."

~

Trollex let Clay's feet hit solid ground again once they'd reached what Clay could only describe as a palace; a huge building near the center of the reef, standing prominently above all the other structures of the town, with twisting spires and glowing accents that lit up the surrounding area.

"Wow," Clay murmured, admiring the architecture, while also noting that they were far enough away from the rave that he could speak at a normal volume.

"Yeah. It's pretty lucky Barb only targeted the DJ booth when she attacked. I'm not sure how well we could've reconstructed this," Trollex said, floating next to Clay with an easy smile.

"Wait…she attacked you? Like, actually?" Clay turned his head sharply towards Trollex with a frown. He'd heard plenty about Barb's world tour, but the finer details hadn't really been openly shared. He supposed it would make sense that Barb would have to attack trolls to gain what she wanted, but knowing it was enough that the techno trolls had to reconstruct buildings was a lot. Barb had been at their meeting, and no one had treated her like she'd terrorized them.

"Yeah. But it's all good. Things worked out," Trollex said with a little shrug.

"But, what if they hadn't? You would've lost all this," Clay declared, gesturing widely at te palace and surrounding buildings.

"True. But we didn't," Trollex swam in front of Clay, taking his hands in his own with a light laugh, "You can't dwell on the 'maybes' in life, bro. You just gotta focus on the here, and now, and what you can do in the moment." Clay felt his anger dissipate at Trollex's words, though he still frowned.

"'Maybes' are what keep people safe," Clay insisted, unconsciously squeezing Trollex's hands.

"Future 'maybes', totally. But past 'maybes' can't be changed. You gotta go with the flow, bro," Trollex chuckled, tugging Clay forward a bit, "But enough of that. C'mon, I'll show you around."

Clay sighed heavily and followed after Trollex, taking note of the fact that the king had only let go of one of his hands.

~

"This is all really impressive," Clay praised with an easy smile while pulling his helmet off. The last stop on the tour of the palace was a series of rooms dedicated to visiting dignitaries from other kingdoms. Much like the rooms arranged for the visiting pop trolls, these rooms had been made air tight and drained of water to allow for other genres to visit without the need for helmets.

"Thanks, man," Trollex said, taking the helmet from the green troll to set aside on a table. "We've only had a few trolls come to visit so far, so it's nice to know our efforts aren't in vain."

"I thought the whole world tour thing was a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah, it was," Trollex shrugged, floating over to a couch and patting the spot net to him in invitation to Clay, "But, we're a bit harder to get to, being underwater, an' all. Plus, as much as I'd love to extend more open invitations to other kingdoms, we haven't finished hammering out all the necessary laws to make sure everyone stays safe."

"Man," Clay said with a little laugh, flopping himself onto the seat next to the king, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just…so easily flip between being dead serious and being a party guy? How do you make sure people still take you seriously?"

Trollex watched Clay for a moment, before letting out a little breath and curling his fins beneath himself. "You're talking about the whole 'fun boy' thing, aren't you?"

Clay startled, leaning away from Trollex with wide eyes. "How'd you know about that?"

"Queen Poppy gave us a bunch of pop records when the kingdoms first started talking to each other again. There was a BroZone record in there. Which, by the way, makes for some killer mixes and spinbacks! But, uh…yeah. Not hard to put two and two together when Branch was talking about his brothers, meeting before last. Poppy also might have mentioned that I shouldn't call you 'fun' before we met," Trollex said with a light laugh.

Clay groaned, dropping his face into his hands. "Is that what this is, then?" he asked, slightly muffled, "Some sort of weird intervention to show me that I can be fun and serious, not just one or the other?"

"What? No. Man, you sure do jump to a lot of conclusions," Trollex chuckled, gently taking Clay's hands away from his face. "You just genuinely seemed like a cool troll. Is it so hard to believe I might wanna get to know you better, without any ulterior motives?"

"Yes."

That startled a burst of laughter out of Trollex, making the techno king reel back and wave his hands through the air. "Oh! Oh, man. Clay," he snorted, wiping at his eyes, "Bro. Trust me, it shouldn't be hard to believe. You really made an impression on the council with your ideas at the last meeting, and Viva told me about everything you did at the golf course. You're a really impressive troll, Live Wire."

"Oh. Well…thanks," Clay chuckled awkwardly, his cheeks flushing.

"It helps that you're real cute, too," Trollex added cheekily, shooting Clay a grin.

"I-What?!" It was Clay's turn to reel back, his back hitting the arm rest of the couch as his cheeks practically caught fire.

Trollex simply laughed, leaning his arm on the back of the couch so he was a bit more in Clay's space. "Okay, so maybe I had one ulterior motive," the king admitted, "I thought, maybe, you and Viva were a thing, but I overheard her teasing you about me."

"You had headphones on!" Clay squawked, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah. I didn't have any music playing. Sometimes it's nice to be left alone because people think you can't hear them. Plus, I get to hear things that people might not want me to know," the king confessed with a little shrug. "But, y'know, if I'm reading you all wrong, just tell me to back off. I won't take offense."

"I…okay?"

"That was definitely a question, and not enthusiastic consent," Trollex chuckled, reaching out to gently take one of Clay's hands in his own. "You gotta say the magic word."

"Please?"

Trollex snorted. "I was looking for 'yes', or something to that effect, but I suppose that works, too." With that he leaned forward and cupped Clay's jaw in his hand, his smile turning soft. "You just do what you gotta do if this doesn't feel right, okay?"

Clay gave a little nod and let his eyes slip shut as Trollex pressed their lips together. He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed. Was it all the way back when he'd been in BroZone? Probably. He'd always been too busy at the golf course to ever entertain the idea of getting involved with anyone. And, as much as he and Viva were teased for being in each others back pockets all the time, there really wasn't anything more than close sibling feelings between the two of them. So, as the kiss broke and Trollex shifted back, he had no real idea if it felt right or not. He did, at least, know it didn't feel wrong. He opened his eyes to find Trollex watching him intently, a nervous little smile on his face.

"Well?"

"Repeat experiments must be run in order to ensure the results are valid and consistent," Clay muttered, pulling his hand free of Trollex's in order to take the kings face in both hands and draw him in again. He smiled into the kiss at Trollex's surprised little grunt, pleased as he felt the techno king all but melt into him.

When they pulled apart the second time, Clay took note of the dumbstruck expression on Trollex's face, feeling a little curl of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach for putting the look on the kings face.

"One more? To, uh, make sure the results are consistent?" Trollex asked, his cheeks glowing a faint pink as he leaned in again.

"Just to make sure," Clay easily agreed, tugging Trollex closer so the techno king was half in his lap as their lips met again.

~

Clay smirked as he fixed his hair and adjusted his romper as he glanced back at Trollex, who looked like a ragdoll on the couch, one arm over his face and one fin flopped onto the floor.

"Live Wire is a perfect nickname for you," Trollex sighed, sitting up as Clay picked up his helmet. Slowly he rose from his seat and floated over to the green troll, resting a hand on the top of the helmet. "I hope…I really hope this wasn't a one time thing?"

Clay blinked, a bit taken aback by the question. "It isn't?"

"I mean," Trollex floated backwards, twisting his fingers together in front of himself nervously, "If you wanted it to be, that…that's cool. I just…I know we don't know each other super well yet or anything, but I really like you, Clay. And I'd really like to get to know you better. I know you've got all your responsibility with the pop trolls and Viva and stuff, but…I'd like to see you again. I'd like to see you more."

"Oh," Clay breathed, oddly somewhat startled that anyone would want to see him again, let along a King. "You mean that?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

"Okay. Okay! Yeah," Clay nodded, shifting the helmet in his hands to rest on his hip so he could reach out and take Trollex's hand. "Next time, you come to ours. You can stay with me."

Trollex's face lit up in a giddy grin, his cheeks flushing bright pink at Clay's words. "Already looking forward to it."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls clay #trolls trollex #claylex #trolls world tour #trolls band together #things that i wrote #prompt fill #trolls fanfic

[tenpintsofsundrop]

What would Dick Grayson be like in bed? (Titans Kink Headcanons)

A/N: So originally I was going to publish all of these for all of the characters in one long post, but I got tired/creatively stalled out about halfway through, and it's just been sitting in my drafts unfinished for weeks now. So I have decided to post them for the characters one at a time so that way I can catch up on them and have the energy to complete them really well. The reader is meant to be completely gender neutral, and I don't really know how to put warnings on this, because there is mentions of kinky topics throughout, but it's basically just a list of kinks? Like, the content itself is like a warnings list for a fic. Main warnings are for kinky topics, Daddy kink, and discussions of BDSM.

DC Titans Masterlist

...

So... one of those things that is totally obvious to me from the source material is that Dick Grayson is Daddy.

Not just when it comes to Daddy kink (although he definitely does enjoy being called Daddy for sexual gratification). He is the living embodiment of the title of Daddy. And tbh, I think he would love being called Daddy in a non-sexual context - which might sound weird if you've never been in that kind of relationship before. But when you try it out with him, you would probably love it.

It's something he would find comforting. You calling him Daddy in completely non-sexual contexts when you have no sexual intent behind it - it would make him feel good because it brings the joy of having a long term partner who feels comfortable calling him that. And he would definitely also love the casual dominance of it. He would love feeling owned by you because he gets to wear that title 24/7.

But he would be likely to say that it's something the two of you can only do in private - like in text messages or when nobody else is around to hear it, because he holds the title very sacred and he doesn't want others to mock him for it, because it is like a safe space for him. Even if he would 'laugh off' any mockery of it, he would feel hurt deep down inside.

But anyway, speaking of casual dominance - it's something he is obsessed with. I think he loves BDSM as a lifestyle, and for him, when he has a partner, it definitely doesn't stop in the bedroom - he loves setting lifestyle rules for you as a way of taking care of you.

He will set rules about when you eat (to make sure you never miss a meal), what you eat - he wouldn't ban you from eating junk food, but he would limit your intake of sugar and make it mandatory for you to eat a certain amount of healthy foods, and if you have a bad habit of consuming too much caffeine or soda, he is sure as hell gonna use sexual punishments to curb it.

His goal with casual dominance and the rules he makes will always be to take care of you and improve your quality of life - including your physical health and your mental health.

Is he always dominant?

I think that he vastly prefers being dominant because he is a control freak who hates giving up any kind of control, and funnelling those feelings into a BDSM relationship can keep him from exerting his intense need for control in other areas of life - like having emotional fits when other people don't do what he wants and violently beating up criminals. And on very rare occasions, when he is with someone he knows very well and trusts, he will play the submissive role. But I don't think he would ever be a submissive in a long term relationship.

If his sub misbehaves, I think he would avoid using pain as a punishment. I genuinely think he wouldn't be into spanking or any other type of painplay, because at the end of the day - even if he's strict about rules, it really makes his soul ache to hurt you.

One of his favourite punishments is overstimulation. He loves giving oral simply for the fact that he loves overstimulating you with his tongue for hours, and he loves vibrators and even fuck machines for the same reason.

He would use attention denial or ignoring you as a punishment - denying you of affection, or going as far as to ignore you completely if you want to talk to him at all (unless it's an emergency, of course).

He would also use this punishment in combination with overstimulation - setting you up with a vibrator pinned between your thighs and leaving you alone until you're whining and desperate, begging for his attention and ready to apologize for whatever rule you have broken.

I can also see him being into semi-public sex. He would be the type of dom to enjoy putting a remote control vibrator in your underwear just to push the button and watch you squirm at the most inconvenient times. He would also love taking you out to dinner somewhere nice and teasing you under the table, living to see you squirm and become desperate for him.

He would love any kind of bondage - tying you up in different complex ways, blindfolds, gags, all of those kinky things. As long as it doesn't hurt you, he would love seeing you vulnerable and wanting - he would love seeing rope against your skin. (And he would absolutely have the patience and intellect to learn complex shibari just to tie you up.)

And lastly (one that is obvious to me from the show) - Dick has a breeding kink.

He wants to be a father so badly, even if it's unconscious for him - it would come out when he feels you squeezing around his cock. And whether you can get pregnant or not (and whether you want kids or not), he would be obsessed with roleplaying the act of knocking you up. He would be obsessed with seeing his cum leak out of you, and telling you how he's gonna knock you up while he's deep inside of you. The first time you tell him to ditch the condom while having sex, it drives him insane, and it's the best sex of both your lives.

(A/N: I think that's a good round-up of all my headcanons for him lmao.)

#sundrop writes #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson headcanons #titans!dick grayson #dc titans #titans #dc titans fanfiction #dc titans x reader #dc fanfiction

[natashasnoodle]

Championships | Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader

Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

Words: 1.5k

Summary: Natasha is just your biggest supporter in the whole wide world.

Age: 14

Accidentally let this rot in my drafts for months which is a big whoopsies

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

One thing that Natasha had always made clear with you, was that she wanted you to have everything that she couldn't. The whole nine yards. She tried her absolute best to make sure that you had meals you loved on your plate every day, provided you with all the resources you could need to pursue whatever hobby you wanted and made sure that you were well-socialised with those your own age, and your family.

She wanted you to want for nothing.

Some may say that Natasha had spoiled you, but anyone who knew Natasha would know that this was not the case. Yes, she kept you stocked up on things you wanted, and yes, she tried to wrap you up in a little bubble so that you would never have to see the horrors of the world, but you were not spoiled. She made sure that you earned things that were not a necessity, except for the occasional gift when she wanted to surprise you.

Another thing that Natasha had always made clear with you is that you have to work to achieve. The world will not hand you everything on a grand silver platter.

The world could also be cruel. She hated that it was a guarantee that it would be cruel to you at some point in your life. If it were up to her she would make sure that it never happens, but that was impossible, so she gave you the tools that you needed to survive and thrive.

She taught you to be strong mentally, but to not make the mistake of shutting people out as she often did. She taught you how to run fast and to hit hard. On paper, you were all prepared for the real world, even at your young age. But in Natasha's mind, she would never be ready to send you out, but another thing that she wanted for you was your freedom.

Natasha was always complimented for the way that you had turned out so far. Having raised you to be a well-rounded and experienced child, you got on with most people who entered your life. Making Natasha a very proud mother whenever she watched you interact with those around you or your environment in general.

Powered by ambition you always sought out ways to put your best foot forward just like your Mom.

Being fast and athletic, at school you gravitated towards being on the track team, which is something that your Mom always encouraged, seeing the way your eyes lit up when you talked about how various practices went.

Having never gotten the opportunity to attend school, and therefore teams and clubs, seeing you get that experience always put a smile on Natasha's face. She wanted the experience to be perfect for you.

So, she sold her sports car to buy a classic Mom Minivan to be able to take you and your friends to various inter-school track meets and competitions, always making sure the pockets and doors were full of water bottles and healthy snacks for the journeys. She learnt how to sew so that she could fix your uniform if you ever ripped it, which happened often because you were somewhat of a clutz.

That was the main difference between you and Natasha, every movement of hers was calculated and precise, whereas you moved around as though you had eight limbs. You were always grateful for the fact that your Mom's reflexes were out of this world, as it meant that she always appeared out of nowhere just as you were about to injure yourself.

Mothering you was a double full-time job. But it was one that Natasha wouldn't give up for the world.

You were well aware of Natasha's past, she liked to be transparent with you. So, when most of your friends got embarrassed when they thought their moms were being too enthusiastic about their lives and achievements, you couldn't relate.

Seeing the smile and pure joy on your Mom's face when you told her about your day, what you had been up to, or when she saw you in action on the track, that was enough for pride to beam through your own chest.

Life had given her so many battles, but she had overcome them all.

Every single one.

She fought for her life on the daily and came out on top, and now she is living the very life that she had always wanted since her youth.

So, when you had gotten through to the track finals, where you alone represented your school against the other schools in the state, it was not a surprise when Natasha was acting more frantic than normal that morning to get you to the school on time. She just simply wouldn't be able to forgive herself if you missed out on something that you had worked so hard for just because she was late.

Even though she was on track to get you there forty minutes early.

"Mom, you can slow down a bit you know, you're gonna pull a muscle", you spoke before taking a hefty bite out of an apple. Natasha gave you a pointed look at first as she triple checked that your bag had everything, but her face softened after a few seconds.

"I know, I know, but it's your big day! I don't want anything to ruin it for you".

Chuckling lightly, you moved around the kitchen island and towards Nat who promptly pulled you into a side hug. "Nothing's gonna ruin it, Mom, promise", you grinned up at her, receiving an identical grin in return.

---

Whilst completing your pre-race stretches, you looked up to the stands after hearing your friends yelling your name in support, after all, you were the only one competing for your school's glory. You smiled and waved at them, and spotted your Mom behind them. She was animatedly talking to the other Moms of your school. Not being able to help it, you shook your head lightly with a chuckle.

She was like this at every track competition, but it's nothing that you would want to ever change.

Not before long, you and the other runners were being called up to the track. Exhaling a deep breath you slowly walked over with the others, before placing yourself in position.

Focus.

Taking deep breaths, you looked ahead. Your jaw clenched in anticipation, waiting for the horn to sound to signal your sprint. It was always torture having to wait, the adrenaline always made you want to lurch forward before you heard the signal, but that would mean immediate disqualification. It was a lot of pressure.

When the sound of the blaring horn rang through the air, you started immediately at a quick speed, settling into second place.

Your legs moved as fast as they could as your chest rhythmically fell up and down as your subconscious kept your body in the right posture, after years of training you didn't have to think about it anymore.

What you did have to think about was moving your legs faster, you would not settle for second.

As you reached halfway you were neck and neck with the person who was previously in front of you. She was fast.

Your legs hurt from the exertion but hearing the people in the stands cheering you all on powered you through, especially knowing that a certain someone was watching you. So, with all of the power that your muscles could muster, you picked up the pace in the last quarter, sprinting forward at an unfathomable speed, very quickly putting great distance between you and your opponents.

Your strides lengthened as you reached the last few steps, trying to ensure that you would be the first to pass the line.

The whistle blew, and the crowd cheered.

You did it.

As you collapsed onto your knees in your lane, your chest heaving to get in the oxygen and rid your muscles of the lactic acid, you could hear a very familiar cheer from a very familiar person, a breathless grin erupting on your face.

The few moments that you had to catch your breath were soon ended when your teammates hoisted you up off of the floor and into a group hug. Oxygen was once again not a luxury that you could afford as they started jumping up and down with you in their hold, your brain being jostled about all over the place in the process.

But you couldn't help but laugh, you had done it. Years and years of training and hard work had led to this moment.

And you had done it.

The crowd soon dissipated to make their way over to the main area where the awards would be held, leaving you space to move again. Within seconds you spotted your Mom walking up to you, a smirk on her face as she opened her arms for you to move into. You didn't hesitate to run forward into her hold, even with your legs that felt like jelly.

"I did it!", you spoke against her shoulder, where your face was smushed against.

"Hell yeah you did! I'm so proud of you sweetheart", Natasha lightly moved you away from her so that she could cup your cheeks and press a kiss against your forehead, "So proud", she grinned down at you, her eyes shining the usual way they do whenever they look at you.

Full of love, and full of pride. 

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist <3

Taglist:@fxckmiup @itsdoni @rob1nbuckl3ys

Natasha Romanoff Taglist:@diaryoflife @unlady-like-12-25-36 @doveromanoff

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x child!reader #mama nat #natasha x daughter

[ghouljams]

I thought about something for ghost!Ghost.

Does the property have a garden or something ? I don’t really think ghosts really sleep, so maybe Ghost roams around the outside part of the property when he feels like taking a walk, or when he feels like something might be wrong. He probably scared a burglar or two to death while reader is lost in her dreams ?

Also, I think I read something about Ghost’s voice actor saying that the man would enjoy romance movies ? Or maybe I dreamed about this. But what about reader bringing back DVDs and books for Ghost when she’s not at home. Perhaps she would end up figuring out which genre he likes best, maybe one that she doesn’t indulge in often herself, so she has to find excuses like « oh I heard good things about that book » or « I wanted to try this type of movies again » when her friends mention it ?

I wish I could write as fast as you do. But I’ve been so stressed out and my head is so full of ideas that I rarely know where to start, so I’m stuck most of the time. I wish I had friends to gush about things like that with. But hey, I started writing the introduction to a witch character mentioned in my last one-shot, a friend of the Hunter’s. It’s a start !

Lots of love, Friend. I’m sending tons of inspiration to both you and Maelstrom :3

Sam mentioned it in a tweet I think! Yeah Ghost is a ran of rom-coms, which is a great genre for him tbh. I think reader leaves the TV on to Hallmark(do folks in the UK get hallmark? You're missing out, great crappy romcoms all day) one day and comes home to a completely in tact house. Nothing out of place because Ghost just sat and watched people fall in love all day.

Definitely gets him books and leaves them out for him to flip through at his leisure. Tries out different genres but always has to get them in heavy hard backs so they don't close on him while he's reading.

I think there is a garden but it's overgrown. Reader hasn't tackled it yet, but Ghost can wander the property. He doesn't have any particular reason to now that you're around and he can just stare at you all day, but he used to go right up to the property line and try to make himself cross it. Not good times for Ghost.

I don't think anyone should write at the pace I do. It's probably not healthy. I don't recommend measuring yourself against my pace, I'm mentally unwell. Brain broke, only a fic machine now. My tip on starting is just to put your ideas down in words. Where you start doesn't matter just get the scene out of your head and worry about where to start later. There's no such thing as a perfect first draft.

#ghoul speaks #I love that maelstrom is also getting love #honorary blog contributor maelstrom

[cwritesforfun]

The Bear: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: You're the light in the dark

Part One is linked here!!!

**TW: Anxiety & Anxiety Attack (YES, the plot has changed.) Y/N = Your Name

Y/N's POV

Things have been better for you mentally in the last two weeks. You wouldn't say you were fully happy, but you were calm and that was better than constant anxiety attacks. Graduate school and work were still stressful, but they were manageable now. Sydney apologized when you returned to work for giving Carmy your address and wouldn't tell you why she gave it so freely. She seemed nervous about whatever it was. You had to reassure her that it was fine because it was nice to see Carmy and he brought dessert.

It's another Friday and service is almost done. Tonight has ran smoothly out front and customers seem pleased.

Richie walks up and says, "Hey, uh Faz is going to sub in for you and you need to go to Carmy's office right now." You ask, "Why?" He answers, "None of your business, kidding. I’m kidding. Carmy ... he uh ... he asked for you. He's really anxious and angry and irritating. No one can be around him right now and he said you were a calming presence. I need you to mediate in this situation.” You reply, "Ok. I'll go right now."

You walk to the back and to Carmy's office where the door is open. You see Carmy sitting where you were just a few weeks ago and you close the door gently behind you. You sit on the floor in front of him and say, "Hey Carmy, I heard you asked for me. I'm here. I don't know if you need someone to talk to or a hug, but uh those both usually help me with my anxiety." He looks up and you see his tear-rimmed eyes staring at you. He says, "Tonight has been really hard for me. I've always had a rocky relationship with my family and it gets hard sometimes. I also tried to go to Alcoholics Anonymous because I use drinking to cope and I want to try something healthier. Sydney can be very serious and stuck in her ways sometimes and when I corrected her, she refused to listen. And some of the other staff just watched. I don't want them to think that openly refusing to listen to me is okay. I also snapped when some of them were just stacking dishes in a way that we used to do before we were more serious as a restaurant. I just can't take it when no one listens... except you. You're there and you listen. You're the light in the darkness of my mind." Oh??? You reach out to put your hand on his and he intertwines your fingers as you reply, "I ... I'm glad I can be the light for you. You mentioned wanting to do something healthy to cope with your anxiety. Are you free on Sunday to walk in that park by my place?" He answers, "Yeah." You reply, "Great, I’m completely free on Sunday. So what time works best for you?" He answers, "Um we can do 11 am." You reply, "Great, it's a date... I mean ... that is not what I meant not that it would be bad but I'm going to change the conversation now... And as far as tonight at work, you should go back and tell everyone that you want to have a quick five minute talk with all of them at the end of service. I can get some paper and we can draft what you can say to them. We'll make sure you come off as the leader and as someone willing to listen to new ideas. This should cut the tension in the kitchen and give you some relief." He replies, "Shit, maybe you should be the manager." You laugh and reply, "No I don't think I should, but I am studying management right now and I do know how volatile this restaurant can be at times. I know you're all very stressed in the kitchen and want to make the best dish for your customers that you sometimes forget how to fully communicate with each other. I understand that." He says, "I wish the rest of them were as understanding as you." You reply, "Thanks, but I'm not a perfect employee. I know that. I can always improve... so do you have pen and paper in here?" He laughs and gets some off his desk. You help him draft something to tell the staff and it sounds good if you say so. Your professors would be proud of you. Carmy asks if you can be near him when he gives them the talk in case he needs a mediator to which you agree.

You return to work and finish the shift smoothly.

All the staff file into the restaurant and are sitting facing Carmy. Carmy glances at you and you nod at him before he starts speaking, "Hey everyone, I understand that sometimes things can get tense at work and I want to apologize for my part in that. I realize that I may have overreacted in the past and I am sorry for taking it out on all of you. Going forward, I will make an effort to respond to situations differently. As part of my commitment to being a better boss, I want to ensure that everyone has a voice. If I ask you to do something a certain way and it doesn't work for you, please let me know. I want to be open to feedback and ensure that everyone feels heard. Does that sound okay to all of you?" I look around and notice everyone nodding. They all look proud and like they respect him for what he said. I'm glad it worked. Carmy exclaims, "OK, everyone can go back to what they were doing before and I hope you all get a good night's rest for tomorrow." Everyone gets up and starts chatting amongst themselves.

You stand up and say, "Chef, I think you did really well." Carmy asks, "Do you think they'll listen?" You nod and answer, "I do. Do you feel any better now that this conversation happened?" He answers, "Yes. It makes it feel like there was a weight taken off of my chest." Richie walks up and says, "May I ask, is this what you two were doing in the office? Because if it is, this little duo needs to happen more often. Cousin, that was great. Y/N, I assume you had a part in it, so thank you." You laugh and Carmy says, "Cousin, she helped me turn my thoughts into something more professional to tell people instead of yelling. And yes, it was what we did in my office. She's my employee, remember." Richie replies, "Good, I'm glad this conversation happened then. I think the staff needed to hear this... And, workplace romances can work between the right people. I'll leave you two with that." He then walks off. You say, "I better finish cleaning the front. I'll see you tomorrow chef." Carmy nods and says, "Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N."

PART THREE... THE WALK... coming soon!!!

#the bear imagine #carmy the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto

[listerbirdloml]

this was probably from ages ago but some fun asks for you; favorite lister headcannons? [I]

OOH idk man i’m shit at head cannons ALSO THIS WAS SAT IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES IM SO SORRY I THOUGHT I POSTED IT

- well in my mind i always read him with a northern english accent and i’m not sure why. i know he’s from kent like Rowan + Jimmy but he just gives off northern vibes idk. and after learning that his dads scottish i can also see him using lots of Scottish slang terms.

- i think he’s a slag for a bit of pop too. Britney, Ariana, Taylor, Reneé, you name it. he gets a bit embarrassed though so he turns off his AirBuds when he wants to listen to girly pop music. he has the widest music taste out of the ark, so his Spotify wrapped is always mental. he posts them every year and not once has the same song appeared in his top listened to

- ik he’s not like blonde blonde but i think his natural hair is a lot darker but he’s been dying it blonder since he first met Jimmy and Rowan. when the ark are on hiatus he lets it grow out to his natural colour for a bit.

- he tried to grow a stache one time but Rowan shaved it while he slept. Also he didn’t know how to shave when he first met Jimmy and Rowan, so Pierro taught him. Pierro also taught him how to tie a real tie rather than use a clip on one.

- Joan LOVED lister. she would always fuss over him when he would come over. When he’d come round he would help her in the garden, but really he was terrible and Joan would always have to fix his mistakes. when he told her about how he and his mum would listen to albums together when he was little, she began showing him her collection of old records from when she was a teen/young adult. when she died she left Lister a few of his favourites. Lister keeps them hidden at all times so when he was hosting parties there was no chance they’d get damaged. after they stopped having so many people over Lister kept them displayed in the living room.

- i think that before he and Jimmy got together he had healthy and fun relationship with someone unrelated. it’s not anything ridiculously serious but it helps him see what he should realistically be looking for and what he deserves. it’s not like he’s using the person though, and he actually really likes them. they eventually end things amicably though, and stay good friends.

- it says on the WIKI article alice wrote for him that he has three half siblings. as far as i can think there’s no canon information about them other than that, so i like to HC that they are all from his dads second marriage and they don’t talk much since Lister hasn’t been to visit his dad in years. the ages are;

1.) Lister (19-20)

2.) a sister who’s like 17ish, she’s super embarrassed about the whole ark thing and is reluctant to rebuild a relationship with him again when he reaches out to her post IWBFT, because she remembers how he used to constantly fight with their dad when he’d come over for christmas / two weeks in the summer holidays. when they do start to reconnect and get closer she helps him bond with their dad too. (maybe she’s called Maya?)

3.) a younger brother who’s 13ish and a total TWAT. they look really similar and he’s just like how Lister was in school but he’s hilarious and really admires Lister. somehow he’s stupid smart though, even if he’s class clown. i think he reaches out to Lister when he’s still in the hospital after the incident. i also think it would be funny if the younger brother’s celebrity crush was Jimmy but his image of jimmy is completely shattered when he meets him properly. (i call him Brodie in my head)

4.) his youngest sister who’s like 7 who barely remembers lister but once they get closer she has him wrapped around her little finger. he almost bought her a horse once but Jimmy and Rowan had to remind him that a 7 year old who lives in a city centre can not logistically look after a whole horse. (i think her names Eilidh)

- the ark move from the flat into a house just outside london and he makes sure they all have a room so they can visit whenever they want to.

- after getting to know them better, he gets really close with Angel and Juliet. the three of them and Bliss have “girls” nights in the arks flat. when Listers hair grows they teach him how to pleat it. he gets really good and when he starts seeing his half siblings again he pleats his sisters hair for them)

sorry idk man i yapped a bit 🤷‍♀️

#this was so much longer than i intended it to be #but you brought this horse to the water and by god was she thirsty #answering asks #i was born for this #iwbft #osemanverse #alice oseman #the ark #jimmy kaga ricci #lister bird #rowan omondi #bliss lai #juliet schwartz #angel rahimi

[waywardstation]

I know that we’ve been talking about MD au a lot but I was just reminded of the Poké Rides existing in Alola from Sun and Moon.

Specifically Machamp Shove.

I just had the mental image that once Ingo’s Machoke evolved it loves to just grab and carry around it’s trainer once it notices he is exhausted.

I know it’s more popular to have Sneasler shove him into the basket but this could show how much of an bond he’s got with his new Hisui team!

Machamp(Machoke too)also being encouraging to Ingo to train a little to keep in good and healthy shape is also an very wholesome image. It’s the most encouraging fitness trainer you could imagine. (if you like bone crushing hugs)

It’s funny you bring this up because I have a draft right now involving Ingo and his machamp haha. It’s just a nothing-drabble about his machamp trying to ease the tightness in his back. But it is very strong. Very very strong. Pesselle is like Ingo what happened to your back and Ingo is like machamp happened lol.

lol IDK when it’ll be out but it’s there!!

BESIDES THAT I REALLY LIKE THIS THOUGHT!! Machamp would love to help him out, always did as a machoke, and it’s even more eager to now that it’s evolved, but isn’t quite sure of its strength yet and can go a little overboard.

AND HIM TRAINING WITH MACHAMP IS GREAT!! With four arms, it would be an exceptional rock-climbing buddy!! And then Ingo could use machamp as an excuse to ward off Gaeric — Oh sorry Gaeric, I’m already training with machamp. It’s a shame I can’t go run around the entirety of the Icelands with you while dragging an Avalugg behind me. I’d love to if I could though, really! But I can’t, darn. Next time, maybe?

(There is never a next time)

#no worries anon!! I enjoy talking about anything #it doesn’t have to all just be about PMD AU at the moment ^^ #machamp begs Ingo to do arm wrestling with them all the time #Ingo takes machamp over to Gaeric and Zisu so it can arm wrestle with them instead sometimes and actually put up a good fight #enrichment lol

[ukrfeminism]

Women dealing with severe mental illness are still being jailed despite prisons being “ill-equipped” to offer suitable care, a major review has warned.

Many women and health providers view the prison environment as “unfit for purpose”, while six in 10 inmates said the “inconsistent” health and social care services across England’s 12 women’s prisons needed improvement, the long-awaited NHS and Prison Service review found.

Despite figures suggesting nearly 60 per cent of female offenders have experienced domestic abuse, the review warned of a “gap” in mental healthcare and specialist support for women who have experienced trauma, including sexual and domestic violence.

The review – which was due last March – is touted as involving potentially the largest-ever engagement of women with lived experience of prison, drawing on more than 2,250 responses from group discussions, one-to-one meetings, letters, postcards and drawings.

Its findings underscore heightened concerns around women’s prisons, after the number of self-harm incidents rose by 63 per cent to hit a grim new record of 20,248 in the 12 months to June – three times higher than a decade earlier – despite the number of women self-harming remaining relatively stable in recent years.

The “absolutely staggering” rise could reflect issues with understaffing and a lack of suitable training, HM chief inspector of prisons Charlie Taylor told The Independent last month, adding: “These are often the most vulnerable, very unwell women, some of whom should quite frankly be in secure hospital, not in prison.”

Experts have long highlighted that mentally unwell women are being imprisoned unnecessarily, with MPs warning last April that legislation handing courts the power to remand people in prison “for their own protection” should be repealed.

While the government’s draft Mental Health Bill proposed this, and introduced a requirement to remand people to hospital when the only ground is concern for mental health, Rishi Sunak did not include the Bill in the King’s Speech – leaving it off the parliamentary agenda for the year ahead.

“This is a missed opportunity to right a grave wrong, and means women as well as men in crisis will continue to be sent to prisons which are unfit and unequipped to meet their needs,” Prison Reform Trust chief executive Pia Sinha told The Independent.

The newly-published review also highlighted that women’s reception and early days in prison are often “traumatic, deeply distressing and bewildering”, especially for pregnant women and mothers separated from their children.

“I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t feel like I could ask, I felt completely away from everything,” one woman told the researchers. “When they told me, I didn’t have a clue, I couldn’t picture it, then I found out I was hours from home and it really hit me how far away from my kids I was.”

Only around half of women said their immediate healthcare needs were met during the first 24 hours in custody. Vital services are also often not gender-specific, researchers found, leaving further gaps in care for women.

“Not one person has spoken to me about incontinence, menopause, what are healthy bowel habits, my boobs,” said one woman, while another told researchers: “Managing your periods in prison can be a nightmare. Some women don’t even know the pill or coil can help. They just assume because they’re in prison, they aren’t entitled to this sort of help.”

Women with reduced mobility, who are neurodiverse and who are older appeared most disadvantaged by a poor environment in prisons, the revew found, with one woman saying: “You’ve got more chance getting around prison on a flying carpet than you have in a wheelchair.”

The report also highlighted that not all staff are trained in trauma-informed care, with one respondent quoted as saying: “‘There are so many mental health ladies and ladies with learning disabilities that should not be here. 

“The prison is not a mental health hospital. Staff are not trained to deal with the complex needs, so those people do not get help to do anything or get what they need.”

Another said: “Officers don’t always get it, sometimes how they talk to us makes it worse. They need better training; they need to learn how to see it when a woman is in crisis.”

Meanwhile, in the 2019/20 year, some 45 per cent of women did not attend planned outpatient appointments, compared to 22 per cent in the general population – with “complex” reasons for this including there being no prison staff available to accompany them, according to the Nuffield Trust.

The Ministry of Justice has pledged to deliver on the report’s eight recommendations, and has earmarked £21m for a three-year delivery plan jointly led by the NHS, and Prison and Probation Service.

Urging an “ongoing multiagency commitment” to delivering the recommendations, the Prison Reform Trust warned that the review “cannot be reduced to yet another bureaucratic process”, adding: “Its success needs to be measured by the impact it has on improving the health and social care needs of women in custody.”

#articles #law #health

[missyblogs]

Because I am On a Ball and it is Rolling, I want to make an additional love offering bc there are like 3 things in the x reader tags and my fellow Sportaskissers deserve more ( I see you, I love you, you are not weird or alone <;;3 ). I present to you:

Sportacus with a chronically suffering and/or disabled significant other

based on my reading of the character from just four episodes from season one, some offhanded comments from the cast, and a little projection on my part so shhhh -Sportacus will never think less of you for not having the strength/ not feeling well enough to exercise. Some days are just a no bones day and he totally gets it ( even if he rarely if ever experiences them himself, thanks elf genes > . > ) He will gently stretch you out if you've been lying in the same spot for too long though ( you wouldn't BELIEVE how quickly legs can cramp... but he does! ) or help you move to avoid bedsores if you need that. Part of what he loves about you is your perseverance in spite of the hand you've been dealt and helping the body he loves so much stay as healthy as possible is as good as any pilates session. You don't need to kill yourself with cardio to make him love you. -Tea, tea and more tea ( and maybe some soup ). Can't keep down your Sportscandy? Catch him boiling all kinds of herbs to settle your gut, keep you hydrated, and get *some* semblance of nutrition in there. Because it's gonna be unsweetened you'll be drinking a lot of white/decaf. Also the man will hunt down your favorite variety at all cost <3 -Do you take an inhaler? do you need to do it upside down to get the meds where they need to go? ( looking at you Sumatriptan nasal spray ), the man will personally lift you and hold you up on the ceiling hook so you can angle your head right for the delivery if you don't have the body strength to hold yourself there

-If you need to lie down somewhere dark and cold to make your pain go away, he'll make sure there's a room just for you. He will check in on you every so often to make sure you're doing all right though, just cause the crystal isn't beeping doesn't mean his favorite person doesn't need some kinda help and he wants to be the first to know when he can! -No standing? no problem! in at least one draft of the official backstory Sportacus built that bad boy himself so if your wheelchair using s/i lives with him or makes regular visits to the airship, he will build a lift in just for you. After all it's your home too!

- If you are having a bad mental health night, it genuinely does not matter whether it's 8:08 or 3 am. Though he may like his sleep, Sportacus will be THERE for you because he wants you to be safe and there is no other person he'd rather stay up for. He knows he can't make you stable or take your trauma away but if his company makes you feel even the slightest bit better it is all worthwhile to him. You two can nap together later <3 - Need a hand? If you need help remembering or administering your medication, your very own hero is to the rescue! No more pricking fingers or navigating stubborn syringes if you don't have the dexterity for it. Sportacus understands the importance of giving your body the tools it needs to help you be your best you. He'll help you keep track of meds, set reminders to take them, and help you with whatever you need to get them into your body!

Above all, regardless of what you feel like or what your body does or doesn't do Sportacus chose you for you, you are not a runner up, you're not a consolation prize, and there is not an ounce of pity in his body when he thinks of you. You are beautiful to him just the way you are, remember that.

#lazytown #sportacus #fo x si #self insert #oc x canon #sportacus x reader #self shipping #SportaYou #self ship headcanons #missy talks #I have many thoughts about this man as a major depressive migraineur but this is already a wall of text so please take it #also there's no gender to this so apply whatever feels right to you

[monstersandmaw]

Hello Monsters and Maw. I want to post like you. How do I get recognition like you?

I'm not sure I know how to answer this, but if you're trying to get notes for the sake of notes on your posts, stop. I'd say you need to re-evaluate why you feel that way, because it's not a healthy attitude to have.

Social media can be an awful place even at the best of times, but posting things just because you want 'recognition' can be very damaging to your mental health, regardless whether you get attention or not.

If you're a writer (since that's what I do on here mostly), make sure your work is the best quality it can be. Here are some of my top tips for writers on Tumblr, after having had this particular writing blog up and running for five years now(!):

Edit your work at least twice before you post it, and don't start editing until your first draft has sat for at least a day (so that your brain can recognise the mistakes after some time has passed).

INCLUDE A 'KEEP READING' for the love of all the gods. No one will reblog a post that's five miles long.

Create a masterlist of all your work and link it at the end of each of your stories so people can read more immediately after finishing something they enjoyed.

Make sure your grammar is tight. People stop reading things that are hard work to read.

Make sure you're writing from your heart. People can tell when you're not enjoying it.

Engage with other people as 'yourself' (not on Anon), so that people have the chance to see your username and click through to your blog.

If you're a writer just starting out on here, do ask memes and free prompts for people to get your stuff seen. I did that and it worked wonders for me.

Have patience. Recognition of any kind doesn't happen overnight, and people are hardly reblogging anything these days so the chances of your stuff getting seen by anyone else is shrinking by the day.

Reblog other writers' work and engage positively with people in your community.

Learn to detach your sense of self-worth from your notifications/likes/reblogs. I cannot stress this one enough.Your value is not determined by the number of followers you have or the number of reblogs you get (and with people seemingly refusing to reblog stuff (even when they claim to enjoy it!!!) on here these days, that's especially important).

Hope that helps a bit. Don't give up, and equally don't throw everything you have at it just because you want to get noticed.

#writing advice #tumblr advice #anon ask

[howaboutcastiel]

That One Angsty Fic (Moon Boys)

Summary: It doesn’t always make sense, but some days are just bad ones. Sometimes you’re your own worst enemy, and it takes losing a battle with yourself to see that. Marc, Steven, and Jake are able to see it, even if you can’t at first. 

Author’s Note: This fic was originally supposed to end differently. Writing it was therapeutic for me, and the ending was also supposed to be, but revelations in therapy and changes in medications have made things different. Just… it exists. 

Content Warning: ⚠️ Mental illness, sensory overload, anxiety and panic attacks, self harm ideation, self harm (cutting), suicidal language/suggestiveness, kinda graphic depiction. Other stuff I don’t know how to tag, just generally take caution. Hopeful ending. 

Word Count 7.3k

Sometimes rabbit holes are hard to climb out of.

Sitting at your desk alone, waiting for your boys to come home, it was easy to dig yourself deeper. The cars on the street below you were too loud. The overhead lights were too bright and the draft from the windows was far too strong. The inclination to sink into your own thoughts was hard to resist, especially since you didn’t realize you were doing it.

Today really fucking sucks. I feel like I can’t do anything. I can’t eat right, I can’t sleep right, and I certainly can’t do my schoolwork correctly. I’m overdue on returning a library book and I haven’t scheduled that very important meeting with my advising professor. Everything is working out and my life is going dandy right now, but holy fucking shit do I feel like a massive failure.

They always say to reach out for help. The professionals say “you have people who love you, they want you to come to them.” God if that isn’t further from the truth. Sure, my mom told me she was proud of me yesterday, even after I told her I can’t graduate with honors like I planned to do. Sure, my friends tell me all the time that I’m funny and smart, but they’re just being nice to me. They don’t like making fun of people. Maybe my grandma cried the other day over the phone because I’m the only grandchild who calls to ask how she’s doing, but I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.

I’m the bare minimum. I feel like I'm at the bottom of the barrel. I’ll never live up to my potential or to the expectations of the people that I love.

I don’t even think that I’m enough for Steven anymore.

If I’m not enough for him, then I really have nothing at all, don’t I? There’s no question either, if I’m too much of a fuck up for him, I’m certainly not good enough for Marc or even Jake. Hell, the way I’m performing right now, Jake Lockley probably wouldn’t even give me the time of day.

Rabbit holes are hard to climb out of, especially when you’re alone.

There wasn’t anything in particular that made today worse than any of the others. By some metrics, in fact, it was a very good day. You had gotten an A on your midterm exam. You’d found a twenty-dollar bill inside of your coat pocket. Hell, someone had even left your favorite dessert in the break room, and you’d gotten to eat a serving of it between class and work. It should have been a good day, but it just wasn’t.

That’s the thing that people don’t understand about being ill. It’s just that: an illness. It doesn’t matter how much you eat healthy, or how much you exercise. It doesn’t matter how much meditation you do or how much you write in your diary or how much you pray to God—sometimes a day is just going to suck. It’s not rational, or even understandable, but that’s the truth of the matter. Sometimes sick people just… feel sick.

Steven understood that. So did Marc, and so did Jake. If there was anything in this world that they did understand, it’s that sometimes a person can be their own worst enemy. They understood that it wasn���t your fault, and they understood that some days were harder than others. The compassion that you couldn’t have for yourself? Well, they somehow always managed to have it.

You were convinced, though, that they wouldn’t have it today.

This has to be the final straw for them, doesn’t it? They’re going to come home and the dishes won’t be done, the laundry will still be dirty, and there won’t even be dinner on the table for them to eat. I’m going to have to tell them I don’t have a reason for it. I didn’t get it done only because I’m lazy and the lights were too bright. They’re going to laugh at me. They’re going to hate me.

Steven Grant is going to hate me.

I think maybe that’s what I deserve. He's so much more than me, isn’t he? They all are. They’ve been through so much, and yet they’re so strong and so wise. Steven is so kind. But look at me. I’m not… any of those things, am I? I’m all the wrong things. Too big, too awkward, too stupid. I’m not enough for him. I’m not enough for any of them, and I think maybe today they’re going to realize that. I don’t know if I can handle that.

It was half-past seven now. Steven would be coming home from his shift any moment. Or someone would. Whoever was fronting tonight didn’t really matter. It was all going to end the same way, you were convinced. You moved from the desk, tired of the weight on your back, and curled yourself up on the floor of the study. It wasn’t exactly a screaming and crying kind of panic, but it was still panic.

Why can’t I just do more? Why can’t I get up and get all of these chores done, right here and right now? Nothing’s stopping me. I know exactly what to do, I’ve done all of this a million times or more. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Why can’t I just get up and do it?

It wasn’t just that, though. How much easier it would have been if it was, but it wasn’t.

Why can’t I do anything right? I can’t even be sad right. Why can’t I cry? Maybe they would understand if I was crying. God, what if they yell at me? I don’t know what to do if they yell at me. Please don’t yell at me. Just get up and do the damn chores. Just do something. Do something.

They’re going to yell at me.

This is all so pathetic. I’m being dramatic, but I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. I feel like I’m ready to explode or implode or just wither away. I feel like I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I can’t stop it, though, and it makes me feel like I’m insane. I feel like I’m out of control. I want to feel in control. I want to be in control.

I want to be in control. How do I take back control?

You heard the familiar footsteps coming down the hall, instinctively curling in on yourself a little bit more. You had memorized the sound and usually it brought you a warm and welcoming feeling. Today, though, it only made your pounding heart sink deeper into your chest. You braced yourself resignedly for the yelling and anger, or at the very least for the disappointment. Honestly, you didn’t know which one of them was worse.

It was Marc Spector who walked through the front door of the apartment. Admittedly, you couldn’t tell that he was at the front just by his body language, but luckily the boys were used to announcing themselves as they came through the door. It made things easier, and they knew that it comforted you.

“Hey, baby,” he started, the keys clinking in his hands as the door latched shut behind him. He was the only one who called you that. “I didn’t mean to be so late, but we got distracted on the walk home. Why’re you sitting in the dark? Are you here?”

You didn’t have the energy to answer him. Well, you had the energy, but you didn’t have the confidence. That, and you couldn’t really find your voice under all of the panic. Your tongue was too heavy in your mouth, and you were nauseous. You feared if you opened your mouth, it wouldn’t be words that came spilling out. Marc ventured further inside and finally spotted you, hugging your knees in the space between the desk and the wardrobe. He tilted his head and widened his eyes in concern, and you could feel the heat on your face.

“You okay?” He furrowed his brows when you didn’t answer him. You could only look up at him, breathing slowly around the lump in your throat, and you wanted to bury your head right back into your knees when you saw the look on his face. Of course he was going to be concerned, and you were going to have to tell him he had no reason to be. It didn’t make sense for it to be so difficult, though. Why couldn’t you just make yourself speak up? It was the simplest thing.

“Did something happen?” His voice was low and little, and you managed to shake your head at his question. Some other feeling was fighting the paralysis now that he was here, but it wasn’t a good feeling. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “No? Well, are you hurt?”

Again, you shook your head. It was technically true, right? You weren’t hurt. You couldn’t really even pinpoint what was wrong with you. He pressed his lips into a thin line, surveying your body for any signs of damage. He found none, so Marc brought his hand up to touch your arm and you instinctively cowered away. You felt guilty as soon as you did it, but you couldn’t bear the thought of the pressure on your skin.

“I don’t know how to help, baby.”

That was what made the tears start to slowly stream. You didn’t feel the need to sob or choke, just to press your nose between your knees and hide your face from him as it contorted into a crying mess. For him to understand, you knew that you had to say something. It was just so hard to get anything out.

“I didn’t do the dishes,” you mumbled. Your admittance confused him and he moved to sit down across from you. You fought back a sob that tried to erupt from your throat. Hearing it out loud, you could understand how your words didn’t quite clear things up for him. “I didn’t do the laundry, either, and I haven’t made dinner.”

“Okay?” He almost laughed, but he could see anguish that you were in, so he stifled it. Marc waited for you to explain yourself further. It became clear you were having trouble with that, so he began to think meticulously through his answer.

“I’m sorry.” A sob broke around your words, but they were still unmistakable. His face twisted again into confusion and something that looked like offense. You hoped it wasn’t that.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. That was a hard question for you to answer.

“I should have done it by now. I should have finished it all. You should be able to come home to a clean apartment and a warm meal, and I said that I would do it. I should have done it.”

The self-inflicted misogyny aside, he was shocked by your statement. Marc understood the mindset of having to please your housemates. When he was a child, skipping his chores meant more than just a few words of disappointment from his mom. But this wasn’t that. Marc had never, never yelled at you before, and he certainly didn’t expect you to do all of his housework for him. You were partners. You shared the responsibility.

“Honey, they’re just chores,” he tried to explain. He couldn’t imagine exactly where you were coming from, but he’d talked you down from enough panic attacks to at least know where he should start. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal, and we can order take-out for dinner.”

You felt stupid. He wasn’t even mad, and you’d made such a big deal out of all of it. Of course he wasn’t going to yell at you. Marc would never yell at you. None of them would. You should feel relieved now, right? But you didn’t feel relieved. You just felt stupid.

“You with me?” He peered into your eyes with nothing but genuine softness. You couldn’t resist that look, not even in the state you were in. So, you pretended for him.

You nodded.

“Good. Come on, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Marc took your hands into his and helped you to your feet. Your limbs were stiff from sitting like that, and your chest was heavy from all of the worry. He gently led you over to the couch, coaxing you to sit down and pulling a throw blanket from the shelf under the coffee table. You shuddered as he opened it and tossed it over you. He noticed that you were shaking.

“I’m gonna order dinner, okay? You need to eat something.” Marc moved to pull his phone out of his coat pocket. You didn’t really feel hungry, more nausea than anything filling your gut right now. “I think that you’ll feel better after that.”

You put on a brave, numb face for the rest of the evening. Well, for the next little while, at least. Marc ordered one of your favorite meals for dinner, making sure to buy so much that you would have leftovers. He wasn’t too great of a cook himself, so he was used to ordering out after a long or busy day. When the food finally came, you nibbled at it just enough to prove to him that you were trying. It tasted pretty good, but you couldn’t be sure you would keep it down, and the thought of swallowing just made you shudder some more.

After a while, Marc had decided that you looked calm enough. He let Steven take control of the body once he finished his meal, the tiring day having weighed on him, too. He made sure to warn his alter to keep tabs on you, noting how you seemed to be having a particularly rough day. Steven had no problem with that, as he was more than happy to give you his attention no matter the circumstances.

He didn’t exactly know what he was getting himself into.

When dinner was done and you’d convinced Steven that you really couldn’t eat any more, he packaged the rest of your food in heat-safe boxes. He also did the dishes, which he meant as a gesture of affection. Steven didn’t realize that his simple act of service would send you farther down the spiral.

Now you felt guilty. Not only had you failed to do the housework you’d promised you would, but now he was picking up your slack. To you, that was just unacceptable. I’m so much more trouble than I’m worth, you thought. Maybe they were just dishes, but they felt like so much more than that to you. They were a symbol of your failure, a symbol of all of the good things that he was and the bad things that you were, and why you could never be deserving of him.

The familiar urge started to bubble in your chest. You knew you should have said something the minute you felt it, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to, not in the middle of the spiral that you’d already begun. It always started as a spike of energy, an ironically paralyzing energy, and a buzzing in your skin. From there, it would grow and evolve and mutate into something else. It was an urge to self-destruct, to punish yourself and gain control. It didn’t make any sense, not in the slightest, and it surely didn’t make sense now, but such was the nature of being ill.

It didn’t have to make sense. It just had to be.

You felt the heat draining from your body as you watched him pass the plates from the sink to the drying rack. The shivering was only beginning, and you knew already that nothing would help you get warm. Not a blanket, not a hug, not a piping hot cup of tea. This was the kind of chill that ran further than skin-deep. The sensation grew outward from your chest. It made you want to press your palms into your eyes and scratch at your skin until it was raw. A lump was starting to thicken in your throat, your saliva becoming too thick to swallow.

I can’t believe I’m letting them baby me like this. I should be taking care of him, not the other way around. They must be so tired of coddling me like this. I wonder if they think I’m too sensitive. They must think that. I am too sensitive. It’s a matter of time before they get enough of it and kick me to the curb. It must be. I just wish I could stop. I have to stop.

Steven was turned away from you, intently focused on the task at hand. He didn’t notice how you had gone pale. He had a chore to complete. He wasn’t one to leave a dish half-washed, so he had to meticulously scrub each plate until he was sure it was clean.

He’s even better than me at this. What else do I have to offer him?

You pulled yourself up from your seat at the table, making sure to drag the legs of the chair against the wood just enough to alert him to the movement. You shuffled over to the couch as he finished up at the sink. When you clicked the power button on the TV remote, it flashed on to reveal some old sitcom you weren’t interested in seeing. It would look normal, though, when Steven dried his hands and emerged from the kitchen to join you. He would think that you were okay, and that was a good thing. You didn’t want him to think that you weren’t okay.

“Can I join?” Steven meekly asked as you scuffled to one side of the couch to make room for him. He was wearing a soft expression that made you feel like he saw you as fragile. He looked away from you as he sat down. “I think I might stay up a bit tonight. I want to read this new book I got about Neferefre.”

“What is that?” You prompted him, knowing you were opening the conversation to a classic Steven Grant infodump. If you looked interested and you got him to start talking, he wouldn’t even notice how much of a mess you’d been today—and how much of a mess you were now.

Steven began his little spiel. The man he spoke of was apparently one of the pharaohs of Egypt, a prince who ascended to the throne and died young. You watched his face light up as he told you about the man. It wasn’t uncommon of him to lose himself entirely in his little stories about ancient Egyptian history. He would speak for hours if you let him, which was a relief, because you certainly didn’t know how to fill any gaps of silence. Steven’s eyes widened and glistened as he went on, touting knowledge to you that would impress even the most prestigious academics of the subject. 

His smile was such a pure and innocent thing. Steven was proud of himself, as he very well should have been, and he was happy that someone was here for him to share his knowledge with. It put into perspective for you just how much you didn’t compare. He was a living, breathing encyclopedia. A life-long researcher who would pour his heart and soul into the subjects he loved. In contrast, you were just going through the motions. You had reached your last semester of your undergrad, but you had no passion at all for your major anymore. Maybe you would get some fancy latin honor at your graduation, but you were by no means a good student, and you sure as hell weren’t an expert on the subject. 

Why can’t I just stop myself from spiraling? Why can’t I just be someone that he deserves?

It was getting to the point where you were afraid that the feeling in your chest was going to start boiling over. Your skin was on fire and you were covered in a thin layer of icy sweat that did nothing to calm you. You wanted to curl into a ball and rip out your hair. You wanted to rock yourself back and forth with your head between your knees, and you wanted most of all to take yourself apart piece by delicate piece. 

The urge was almost overwhelming. You had managed to hide this part of yourself from them for your entire relationship up to this point. Marc had his suspicions about your behavior in the past and Steven had noticed your sensitivity and lapses in communication, but neither of them had ever been there with you when you had an episode of self harm. You’d been in recovery when you first started dating them, and you’d only broken your clean streaks on occasions where they weren’t around. They didn’t really know what to look for and they didn’t know how close to the edge you really were. 

You were very, very close to it. 

Steven blinked at you confusedly. He’d asked you a question, apparently, and you’d failed to hear it over the pounding thud of your heartbeat inside of your ears. There was no denying that you’d spaced out while talking to him, no pretending your mind wasn’t clearly somewhere far away from here. He raised his eyebrows at you as you widen your gaze and pressed your lips together, pulling yourself back to him. 

“Sorry, I just have had a long day, love,” you tried to deflect his unyielding inclination to peer into you. Steven Grant was a caregiver, an innate protector of those who were mentally vulnerable, and you certainly fit that category right now, but you would be damned if you let him baby you. Or, god forbid, worry about you. “I wanted to hear about your Pharoah guy, but I think I’m too tired to take it all in.”

You hoped he would ignore the fact that, despite your words, you seemed to be vibrating with nervous energy. The last thing you’d ever want to do was make Steven worry. You hoped to God that he couldn’t see the panic rising within you, stirring up the familiar frenzy in your limbs and enticing you to have a rendezvous with your razor in the bathroom. 

He scooped you into his arms, pressing around you with a calming strength that almost touched the chill underneath your skin. Your body was half-limp as Steven encased you in a sturdy hug. He nuzzled his face into your neck and he breathed you in with an exhausted sigh. 

“It’s alright. I’ll talk about him later.” Steven hummed into your skin, no doubt just as tired as Marc had been. “I’m sorry about your long day. It’s okay now, though. You can just relax with me.”

Guilty. Stupid. 

“Okay. Thank you, baby.” You swallowed hard and dipped your head into his chest. Steven’s grip around you was strong, but casual. To him, as far as you could tell, you appeared to be doing just fine. A little tired, a little shaky, but overall just fine. That was a good thing, right? You were glad to not be worrying him. But some primal part of you was screaming to tell him you needed his help. You suppressed that part—it was bound to make things worse for you both. 

There was silence for a little while. The television droned on, drawing small, breathy laughs from Steven and smiles from you in response to his laughs. The beating of his heart against your ear served to chip slowly away at your unease, dampening the pounding in your head. The pressure in your chest released bit by bit. The unspeakable urge fizzled out from your hands just a little. You finally were starting to feel like you could breathe normally, when a stray thought drew Steven away from the telly. 

“When you did laundry today,” the words shot hot iron spikes through your ribcage. You froze in place, “did you happen to see my green button-up? The one with the stripes. I was going to wear it tomorrow to the museum holiday party, but I couldn’t find it when I looked this morning.”

How could you respond to him? You’d have to tell him it wouldn’t be clean in time for the party. You hadn’t washed it. You had not even touched the laundry today, in fact. You’d come home from work a few hours ago and plopped right down at your desk, wasting the evening away instead of doing the chores that you’d promised. 

“I’m sorry,” you began. His lips turned downward into a puzzled grimace. “The laundry isn’t done. I don’t know if your shirt is in there, but if it is, it’s not clean. You won’t be able to wear it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His face remained as puzzled as it was, now tinged with disappointment as well. You couldn’t live with his disapproval, no matter how much your body and mind seemed incapable of performing correctly. 

“But I can go wash it right now! It will be ready by morning if I start a load—”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it, darling. It’s late, and it’s just a shirt. I can wear something else to the party. God knows Donna won’t appreciate the effort I put into my outfit anyway.” He bore an uneven smile and grazed the back of your neck with his hand, pushing your head back down to rest on his chest. 

The coil around your heart re-tightened. 

You laid in his arms as long as you could manage to sit still. Soon enough, the shaking of your bones and the pounding in your chest was so strong that it would be noticeable if you continued to sit in his grasp. So, with a shy cough and a fake, lopsided smile, you excused yourself to the bathroom. 

Stupid. 

Stupid. Stupid! Stupid! You couldn’t believe the way you were behaving. Why couldn’t you just be normal for one single day? Why did you have to worry your boys, why did you have to be so miserable, and why did your heart still threaten to beat right out of your chest even though Steven had held you in his arms and told you everything was okay? Stupid. So fucking stupid and pathetic and whiny and stupid. 

You could feel the ice trickling down your spine, sinking into the curves of your ribs and clenching your muscles tense. The heat of your anger—at yourself and at the world, but mostly at yourself—did nothing to warm the deep chill in your bones. 

Be fucking useful for once. 

The sound of the electricity was too loud, the light coming under the door too bright. You banged your open palms against your head, curling them into fists and pounding harder when the noise only grew more irritating. Your breathing was rapid and empty, silent tears streamed down your face. Your knuckles drummed against your skull forcefully, over and over and over again, until the action was automatic and numb. 

Stop being a burden. Stop being stupid. Steven has been through more shit than you ever will have gone through. You’re a useless fucking partner to him. Stop wasting space. 

The dull knocking against your head wasn’t nearly enough. The seething inside your bones demanded something more. Something urgent and strong. You grew tired of the motion and lowered your hands, leaning into the dizzying soreness at the sides of your scalp. Your heart began to calm, unbeknownst to the agony in the rest of your body. 

Stop wasting space. 

You clutched the vanity. Your now-raw knuckles were white and the room was spinning. Maybe if you’d eaten more, you’d feel the need to throw up. 

Stop taking up space. 

The way that your hand rose to the medicine cabinet made you feel like an observer inside your own skin. For a passing, ever-so tiny moment, you wondered if this was what Jake felt. What Marc felt. Was this what Steven Grant felt when he wasn’t in control?

No, surely not. This was you taking control. 

You weren’t one to show yourself mercy. Even in something like this, where mercy was a severely relative term. The thoughtful thing to have done would have been to grab your razor from the shelf, or taken one of Steven’s replacement razors from the pack beside the mouthwash. A sharp, unyielding weapon for a clean, quick punishment. You didn’t want to cut yourself open, though. That would be too generous, too easy. 

You didn’t want something smooth, something to leave  pretty and even stripes in delicate skin, like guiding lines on an empty notebook sheet. No, you didn’t want to cut yourself deep. This was visceral, personal. You wanted to rip yourself apart. 

From the top shelf, you grabbed the old and rusty scissors that you had left in the bathroom for your spur-of-the-moment haircuts and for cutting tags off of new clothes. They were dull and awkward and hardly able to cut warm butter at this point, which is exactly what you were going for. 

Stop. Being. Stupid. 

You didn’t know if it made you feel better or made you feel worse, but it made you feel. Digging the blade into your skin, jabbing the open edge into your thigh after pulling parallel strokes on your forearms, it made you feel more in-control than you had all day. It was intoxicating. It was all-consuming. Before you knew it, you had fallen into a trance of sorts and the repetition was only halted by the realization that you had to breathe eventually. 

A sharp breath in. Pain. A slow, shaky exhale. Stupid. A stifled cough, a desperate sucking in of air. Useless. A wheezing huff, like a deflating balloon. 

Tired. 

The blade slipped away from your hand and clattered unenthusiastically onto the floor. There wasn’t nearly as much blood as there could have been. Your teeth chattered, and now, despite having barely grazed dinner, you feared that you might up-chuck. A low groan tumbled out of your lungs as you crouched over the toilet bowl, thick red streams trickling down to the creases of your skin. You heaved once, then twice, then the vague remnants of your dinner were out of your stomach and the pressure against your chest forced a cry from your lips. 

You sighed, flushed, and slumped into a weak puddle on the tile. There was a knock at the door. 

“Darling?”

No. No. No no no nononono. What did I do? Your mind was racing and your heart had re-started its blunt assault on the inside of your ribs, but your limbs were like jello. Your tongue was like sand. He can’t see me like this! 

“You sound like you’re sick. Was it the dinner, love? Let me hold your hair back, at least.”

He can’t see me like this. I can’t do that to him. But you couldn’t move, either. You could barely keep your eyes open. You tried to yell at him to go away, but your lungs were too heavy to muster more than a hoarse whisper. That was if you could even get your lips to part. 

Guilty. 

You could hear Steven’s breath rattle on the other side of the door. “You’re worrying me. I’m going to open the door now, yeah? Don’t mean to pry, of course, but sure as I don’t, you’ll have hit your head on the sink or something and be out cold—”

He’d turned the knob on the bathroom door—the stupid old thing never did lock correctly, you’d been meaning to get that fixed—and pushed his way inside, only to stop dead in his tracks the moment he saw you. 

Your pale and shaking hands clenched your knees, blood lazily tricking into your elbow’s crease and tapping the floor in a steady drip. It wasn’t nearly an amount of blood loss to be worried about, but that didn’t matter to him. There was blood dripping onto the floor, and it was coming from you. Steven’s color drained from his face as he watched the forming puddle for a moment. He didn’t move, his eyes wide and his mouth agape, and his hand still lingering on the doorknob. After a few seconds, he gathered a shaky breath and broke his gaze away. 

“What happened?” 

His voice was whining, panicky. You could see sweat beading on his forehead as he knelt across from you. He trailed his hand up your arm, looking for the incisions that were causing the flow. His fingers were careful not to touch the long, parallel slits that ran up toward your wrists. You heard a breathless whimper leave his lips as he pulled your arms up, revealing the jagged, shallow puncture wounds in your thighs that looked just as bad. 

“Darling, what happened?” He was more urgent now, his voice louder and demanding. “Are you hearing me?”

He grabbed the nearest towel from the shelf under the sink, wrapping it around the wrist closest to him and pressing the other one underneath. Steven’s breathing was shallow and his eyes danced rapidly between your forearms, your thighs, and your face. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes focused on him. It was all that you could do to keep them open at all. He continued pleading with you, but his voice was distant in your head. 

Tired. 

“What have you done?” You didn’t know if his intention was for you to answer. “Why did you—what did you do to yourself? I don’t understand. I don’t… I don’t…” 

His breath was quickening. You tried to pull your head together, to ignore the pounding in your skull and force your eyes to work. Weakly, you wiggled your fingers. If they could move, perhaps the rest of you could as well. Your tongue was as heavy as lead in your mouth, but you forced it up anyway. The wheezing breath you drew caught his attention immediately. 

“I’m sorry.” The tears that had welled in his eyes began spilling over, painting his cheeks as he tried desperately to blink them out of the way. Steven wrung a towel under the sink as you drew another gasp. “You weren’t supposed to see.”

“Why?” He scoffed and you shook your head. The dull thump in your head was winning out. Words were failing you. Apparently they were failing him to, as he couldn’t muster much more than “I don’t understand.”

You had done this enough to know it would take a few minutes for the bleeding to stop. Nothing was deep enough for stitches, though the divots on your legs would threaten to scar for sure. Steven grew more distressed, though, as the seconds ticked forward and the wounds refused to wipe clean. Firm and steady pressure seemed to be too slow a solution and panic was painted plainly on his face. 

You felt the need to explain to him. You had to make him understand. 

“I had to do it.” He held his breath as you began to speak. Steven looked terrified. “I deserve this. It feels… right. I had to. I had to.”

“No, you didn’t,” he insisted. “You don’t deserve this. Why would you deserve this? Is it because of the laundry? You can’t have done this because of a load of clothes…”

“Not the laundry,” You breathed, interjecting. “It’s everything. I’m not good enough. I can’t do anything right. I’m a waste of space. I have to stop taking up space. Your space.”

“You're not.” He uttered immediately. Steven seemed to be choking on his next words. He stared at the blood soaking through your bandages. “You’re not… you’re…”

He pressed his eyes shut and your voice was loud in your head as you let your own heavy eyelids flutter closed. He’s finally getting it, isn’t he? I’m no good for him. This is the final straw. 

More trouble than I’m worth. 

Stop wasting space. 

You resigned yourself to the damage you’d done to him. The three of them were better off without you here. You’d leave them alone now. They’d kick you out and you’d move back in with your mother. At least she was used to being disappointed by you. You could handle her disdain, but not theirs. 

So fucking tired. 

“You’re not a waste of space.” His voice broke you away from the deep crevice in your mind that you’d sank into. “Mi Tesoro, how could you ever think that about yourself? You are plenty good enough.”

Jake unwrapped the wounds that Steven had dressed so haphazardly. If medical training was a contest between the three of them, Steven was certainly in line for the bronze, while Jake could perform surgery with kitchen utensils if prompted to. They had finally stopped bleeding, but the cuts needed a layer of antibiotics if they had any chance of healing right. Especially considering the rust on that gross pair of scissors.

“I scared him.” You didn’t need to elaborate. The absolute mess that you’d made of yourself had thrown Steven into a panic, sending him so far back in the headspace that Jake Lockley was forced to come out to take the reins. 

“Yes, you did. But he’ll be alright.” Jake’s voice was steady and smooth, and he was finished with your bandages before you even realized it. “You’ll be alright, too. Just try not to mess with these.”

“You’re never going to look at me the same. Any of you.”

“Maybe that’s true,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t matter. You can’t scare us away that easily.”

He lifted you by your shoulders, helping you stand against the bathroom wall. The floor was riddled with blood and towels and bandages, and your shirt and pants were far from clean. Jake was careful not to put pressure on your wounds as he supported your weight. You started toward the living room. 

“I would guess that you’ve done this before.” He guided you step by step to the couch. You say gently against the cushion, curling back into a ball as your eyelids gave up altogether on staying open. “But not since I’ve met you. Why did you start this again tonight?”

“I deserved it,” you repeated. There was no other way to explain it, or rather, no explanation you had the energy for. “I needed it.”

“We’re going to talk about this later.” He knew that you didn’t have the energy for a conversation right now. That didn’t mean that he’d save his ultimatum, though. Just because you couldn’t talk didn’t mean he couldn’t. He placed a blanket over you, leaving for a few moments to grab some water and painkillers. Plus, a package of crackers that he would force you to nibble on later. 

“You didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it. There’s nothing you could ever do to make you worthy of something like that. I can’t speak for the other two, but I’ve never met someone so loving, so wonderful. Eres la mejor persona que he conocido. There’s nothing you’d ever do to make you deserve that.”

Silent tears slipped down your face as he continued, and his voice wavered as he spoke. You assumed, though your eyes wouldn’t open, that we was fighting tears as well. 

“You really scared us, but we’re not angry at you. We’re not scared of you. We just can’t bear to see you hurt yourself. You know that you can’t be in pain without us hurting, too. We’re scared because we don’t know how to help. You have to tell us what’s wrong, so we can make sure you don’t hurt anymore.”

“But I need to.” I need to hurt. How else am I going to stay in control?

“No, chica, you don’t.” The cushion shifted underneath you, indicating that he’d sat down beside you. “You need help. Not this. Nothing good comes from this. We don’t want to see you like this. Not ever again.”

How else am I supposed to stay in control?

“Please promise me you’ll talk to me about this, alright? I want to hear all of it. I want to know why this is happening.”

“I don’t want to bother you.” Sleep was weighing on you by now. Thoughts drifted out of your lips without restraint, but they threatened to cease altogether as your limbs grew heavy. 

“You won’t bother me. This bothers me. Nothing that you could say would bother me. I want to hear about everything. Every thought that leads to this, you say it to me first.”

There was a pause that almost let you drift off completely. 

“That goes for the others as well. We all want you to talk to us. No matter when, no matter where. Okay?”

I can’t put this burden on them—

“Promise me!”

You pried your eyes open one last time. Jake’s gaze was pleading and tears were streaming down his face. He looked plenty burdened already. He was right. Nothing could be worse than this. You couldn’t ever hurt them more than this. And now that the urge had come and passed, the dull ache in your arms and the stinging in your thighs was a sore reminder of how little it was worth it. Not to mention the pain in your head. 

“I promise.”

Sometimes, when you say something out loud, you realize how ridiculous it sounds. It helps to keep you in check, and it keeps you from being your own worst enemy. If nothing else, it gives you perspective and keeps you from forgetting your voice. And before you ask, no. I’m not okay, but I am in therapy and on medication. Take it or leave it.

p.s. I started this fic obviously in a bad mood, and then I wrote most of it when I was no longer in a bad mood. For that reason, it may be gibberish. Don’t think of the reader as yourself. That’s probably unhealthy. Thank you to my beta readers, @moonmoonboys and @rmoonstoner

#moon knight #moon boys #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight angst #angst #masterlist