#because i WILL kill myself one day by trying too hard and long to fix family things if i don’t i really think that’s the truth

[writella]

Working It Out

Synopsis: The group has been on the road for months— they’re starving, distraught, and frankly, getting sick and tired of each other. After an argument about how to proceed, Rick decides they should split up to take a break from one another. You and Daryl go off into the woods, but what was supposed to be a silent search for food turns into a loud breaking point.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader, afab!reader, before Alexandria era, smut 18+, this takes place in the woods, tiny bit of oral fixation, handjob, fingering, tiny bit of pussy slapping, penetration, getting caught, possibly inexperienced (I wrote it as unconfirmed) or just horny, hasn’t had sex in who knows how long Daryl, reader talks about killing and dying, Daryl and the reader fight, but of course I added a little bit sweetness because how could I not?

A/N: This was not one of the two Daryl fics I’ve been talking about but the idea came to me and I decided to finish this one— hope you like it. ♡

The trees turn into flashing streaks of green and brown with spots of blue from the sky as you try to catch up to Daryl. He was only walking, but his pace had become relentless, it’s almost as if he was running. His brisk strides became larger and faster, not helping your weak and worn down body. Everything feels just a little dizzy and your stomach growls, even Daryl could hear it.

“I would’ve been able to fix that,” he growls back, “if you didn’t make so much fuckin’ noise.” He speaks from the side of his mouth, “That’s the first rabbit we’ve seen in weeks.”

“It wouldn’t have fed all of us anyway.”

“Nothin’s feeding us now.”

“I’m the one who found it!” You snap, “I’m sorry I tripped on a gun. I wasn’t the idiot who decided to leave it there so I could fall and we could all go hungry again for another day.”

“It’s cause you don’t pay attention.” He was talking about your tracking skills: “How long we been at this? Use the trees. Move slow. Walk light.” He speaks under his breath, spitting to the ground, “Bet even a walker knows that.”

Your voice is agitated and angry, “Why are you being so mean today?”

“Why are you acting like such a damn brat?”

“Maybe because we’re homeless!”

You shout louder than you should have, you hear rustlings now, it makes you both raise your weapons.

“Shut up,” Daryl says hushed and slowly. It’s rude, but you know he means it because of possible danger.

After deciding it was probably just another animal you lost out on, you continue, your voice somber, “Or maybe it’s because you don’t talk to me… You never talk to me.”

Your emotions wave from anger and sadness and back again as you sneer, “And I know it’s because you’re just unapologetically yourself, right? And we all just have to take it,” you scoff. “Stoic Daryl, never talks about his feelings so I always have to guess all the time.” You’re shaking your head now, you almost cry out, “You’re not easy to deal with… And I try so hard.”

Daryl’s face remains untouched by your words, but you know better, it’s the way his eyes don’t meet yours, but you still don’t feel like he understands. “You’re like talking to stone… or maybe a walker.” Your words become sharp and biting as you continue to use his reference against him, “Maybe then I can just shoot you in the head and you’d never hear my mouth again. Or maybe walkers really are that much smarter than me and I can just shoot myself, save us both the misery.” Your voice becomes bitter, “Bet you’d like that better.”

He grits his teeth now, his eyes dart venomously, but still they never met your own.

You could tell the last part had to do something to him more than before, his head shakes more hair in front of his face as he looks down, his features grim.

You started to feel bad, knowing that you probably went too hard. It wasn’t a joke to talk about dying, and most certainly not in this world.

You didn’t like when you were the reason to cause Daryl distress, but it also upset you how much of a pull he had on you— your emotions easily shifting with his.

Just as caring as he was, he could also pretend to be equally as unconcerned. It was so easy, yet so hard to love him.

It felt like the beginning of spring when he was warm; like gaining something new and special over and over; like when you said something sweet or silly enough to earn a smile. It felt like every time he used to say “you commin’,'' when getting on his bike at the prison, knowing that you wanted to, knowing that your eyes would linger as he rode to the gate, always waiting until the last second to ask if you could unless he asked first.

But when he was cold, it hurt; like winter in December, like losing something as fast as you got it. You were left guessing at what he was feeling even more than before and never understanding how much space or how much attention to give him to help. You knew it was hard for him to speak, you understood it personally, but it made it harder for you to be there for him when he never at least explained that.

Turning his back on you, Daryl walked forward, leaving you as he went deeper into the woods, and as much as you felt bad for becoming so spiteful, you weren’t done: you walked faster too, turning him around, you pushed his shoulders, you pleaded contentiously, “Say something!” Your grasp on the sides of his arms are firm now, you shake him once, “God, just say something,” one of your hands pounds on your chest, shouting, “just tell me what’s really going on or what happened for once in your life!”

No response. Of course not. Your arms drop defeatedly. His eyes are indignant as yours implore hopelessly.

Your voice starts to crack, “No one’s going to know how you feel or how to be around you if you don’t- just- talk.” Your last word is a final push to him on his shoulders.

Daryl twists your wrists away until they’re down by your sides, and you yank your hands from him.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice becomes more guttural the louder he gets, “That you’re fuckin’ annoying? Always gettin’ on my shit? On the back of my bike? Always right behind me?” His movements are erratic, “You ain’t easy either. You’re always everywhere when you don’t gotta be.”

Your eyes are crestfallen now, but the anger remains.

“Just leave me the fuck alone,” Daryl barks. Pointing a hard finger in your chest as he finishes, “For once in your life!”

“You’ve never told me to not come-”

“I never asked for it neither,”

“-or at least meant it when you said it—you never say no— you even ask me- I- I thought it was okay,”

“Cause you just keep on!” His voice turns low and desolate after, “But I never asked for it. I ain’t never asked for you.”

Your eyes linger on his face for a moment, your glare becoming a sad gaze as you watch the strands of hair that cover it become more sweaty and frizzy from the heat, hiding him more.

“I didn’t ask for you either. You just came one day and… I’m sorry-“ a heat begins to rise in your throat, “I’m sorry that I came back with you. You didn’t have to take me to the prison,” your voice starts to choke up, “I’m sorry that afterwards I- I didn’t want to be away from you.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, but you turn away before the first ones roll, you start walking ahead.

He doesn’t stop you. After a moment he just follows a few feet behind, making it evident he’s still there by allowing his feet to crunch on the leaves.

Even though you’re leading he still doesn’t say no, doesn’t actually let you leave him alone. The fact makes you frustrated, your hands ball up and you can feel your nails digging into your palms. You try to breathe in deeply to stop your weeping, but the more you try the more angry you get. The feelings start to erupt again and every inhale becomes a sniffle as more tears fall.

Daryl stops walking again. More distance is placed in between you two until he says your name.

You end your trek without turning around, “What,” your voice is cross as you wait for a response, but Daryl is already there behind you.

As you face him you try to hold everything in. Barely breathing as you try to stop your crying, but you can’t help but allow another big tear fall as you look at his eyes, so blue and downcast; they look like rain. You forget that they are that color. He’s always squinting.

His thumb wipes the tear that falls on your face and now more starts their way down from your eyelids. When another tear melts as his fingers fall further down your cheek with it, they reach the tip of your lips. He stays there for a moment, the rest of his hand holding your chin.

You look up at him, your eyes so doleful and wide. Daryl’s thumb rubs into your skin only slightly, never moving too far in except to the corners of your lips until you move your head for him. His thumb is sliding against the bottom of your lip now.

You want this to be a pure moment where you kiss him, or truly, where he finally kisses you, and it’s sweet, and tender, and he tells you that he loves you and that he sees how deeply you care for him.

Of course you would simply love for that to be how your first intimate moment with him would go.

But you haven’t eaten, and even as teary eyed as you are, you are furious, he’s so frustrating. You need more. This is not that moment.

As your heart races and your final tears begin to spill and dry, the tip of his thumb continues to brush against your open mouth and you can’t help that your tongue feels compelled to taste it.

Your chin raises as you take his finger in your mouth, letting it slide inside all the way and then you start licking and sucking, feeling the pad of his thumb move from the top of your mouth to your taste buds. It tastes like dirt, you won’t lie, but it’s his.

Daryl says nothing, he only looks on attentively, entranced. He never even suspected you would do something like this. He switches to his pointer finger and uses his thumb to tilt your head up further as you suck on his longer finger. It’s thick, but it’s filthy, you both need a shower, but you don’t care.

You hum lightly on his finger until you release it from your mouth, letting it slide out.

You lick the drool of your lips and he licks his fingers. It’s messy and dirty and you can hear the smacking sounds as he pops the two in his mouth, his eyes looking directly into yours now as he does it. It was only your spit and he wanted to taste it.

You plead, “Daryl please, will you just kiss me-”

And he finally does it. His big hands wrap around your neck and jaw, tilting your face so far upwards as he places his lips to yours with his open mouth. His kisses are immediately chaotic but deep, his wet lips feeling against yours as his tongue works its way inside your mouth.

Your hands wrap around the back sides of his shoulders and you move farther into him. Nothing matters now. You are finally getting to feel him on your lips. This is the man who you have loved since you’ve met him and he’s finally showing you he wants you.

You don’t even care that your group or a walker or a guy with a gun could show up at any point, the thought is terrifying still, but his hands are on your hips now and you’re dying to see if he’ll go lower, you’d probably let him do anything.

You feel his thumbs playing along your lower hip, flicking the start of your jeans as he continues to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours.

You start to do the same to him, wondering if that will help. Looking up as your fingers linger over the button of his pants, you ask softly, “Is this okay?” He nods and you start to unbutton them, finding it hard to contain your excitement.

“But you don’t gotta-”

“I want to.” You interject. You’re a little embarrassed by how fast you say it, but you still go straight to unzipping his stare, making his jeans hang a bit lower on his hips.

You look up at him, as your hand slowly travels downward. Your hesitancy fades, you’re so desperate to finally touch him, to have this moment. You start palming him through his underwear. His hum is so sultry with its rasp you feel it in your cunt as it pulses. You almost moan when you hear his voice turn into a grunt as you continue and then into a whimper as you dip under the band and start to stroke him. You never thought Daryl would make a sound like that.

He feels so big, so nice and thick in your hand as you continue to pump him. Your thumb plays with the tip of his pre-cum, moving it up his long shaft. You wonder how he would feel inside— if he can even fit inside. The thought makes you pant as you continue to stroke him, continuing to look up at his face, watching his eyes close. You can’t believe you’re finally touching his cock and that you’re the one making him feel good, that he likes your hand around him.

His head rolls back only slightly and he allows you to keep going for a few more moments, and then it seems he’s finally ready. His movements are quick as he pushes you to the ground, kicking off his shoes and then taking off your own.

He takes off your shirt and your pants without thinking, and then he takes off his vest and starts to unbutton his own shirt. His moments slow when he reaches the bottom.

You see the tattoo on his chest peaking through, you know the ones that are on his back, you know what else is there as well. You’ve seen it once, he’s shown you. It was one of your first vulnerable moments together. He did it to make you feel less alone. You two always did that for each other.

“You don’t have to take it off,” you whispered him.

He kisses your lips slowly but shortly and takes it off anyway.

You remind yourself to be gentle if you put your hands on his back later, he looks slightly nervous, but then as he looks at you on the ground, eyes trailing over your body that is only in your underwear, his eyes grow darker as he asks:

“Can I do what I want?”

This makes everything stop. Your mouth is half open, your eyes are lustful, you nod slowly and it makes his dick twitch with how seductive it looks. You didn’t even mean for it to look that way, he’s just so fucking handsome and he just asked for permission to make you his, you can help but gaze at him in a trance. Of course you’d let him have it.

He starts rubbing your through your underwear, watching as your wetness seeps through instantly on the cloth when he touches you lower. He takes them off along with his pants and he leans himself against the nearest tree and pushes your back to his chest, moving one leg over his thigh. He spreads your legs wide and looks over your shoulder.

His hand trails over your pussy. His fingers are tentative as he starts slowly from the top until his finger finally slides over your hole at the bottom and then he pushes in a bit as he feels for the wetness.

Instantly you’re a mess and your wetness starts seeping out, making it easier for him to slide his fingers up and down.

It seems he can’t find where he wants to touch and his wet fingers go everywhere from your hole to the lips to your clit and back down.

“Higher,” you sigh, “please.”

He goes up a little bit starting to rub.

“Higher,” you whine, “mmm… mm- there!” He’s rubbing your clit now, pinching it. “Yes,”

After a little while, his hand travels lower again, now taking two of his fingers and pushing them inside your hole until he can’t anymore. He pushes them in and out of you harshly 5 times until he stops. Circling his fingers inside of you and using his other hand to push your legs further apart, exposing your cunt to the outside air, “If someone comes,” he says in your ear, “they’re going to see you coming first.”

His words turn both of you on even more, making you whine as you feel his hardened dick rub against the side of your ass.

He starts to pump his fingers in you more steadily. Your eyes trail your surroundings, wishing you had picked a more bushier part, you truly were exposed, but then his fingers start to curl as they dig inside you, finding a spongy sweet spot you didn’t even know you had, one Daryl didn’t even try to find, and it makes your eyes shut, your head resting itself back on one of his shoulders as your whine again.

Your hands come to the other side of his neck and chest and you hold on as he goes faster. Daryl allows your hand to make his head go forward so he can look at his fingers thrusting into yours, enjoying the sound of your sopping cunt. His voice is gruff as he groans at the sight, taking his fingers out of you to slap your pussy, twice, watching the wetness bounce, hearing you whimper before putting his fingers back in again.

You hear him make low unintelligible sounds in your ear as he continues to watch. He goes slower, intently looking at how his fingers disappear in you. He takes them out again, “Daryl-” you say sadly.

“Lay down.”

Your elbows are propped up now. He lines himself up with your entrance. His cock looks so fat as he stretches your tiny hole, making it bigger as he pushes in slowly.

The feeling of him going in inch by inch makes you gasp slowly, then it turns into a moan as he bottoms out. Your head falls back on the floor and your eyes close.

He stays there for a moment. Not doing anything, just looking at you, reeling in the sensation of your tight pussy around him.

Your eyes almost open as the wait becomes unbearable, “Are you going to- ah!”

He snaps into you, moving slightly out and back in, it’s a pounding motion. Your body shakes as he continues, going faster and faster. His hands go to the sides of your head as he grunts, looking at how your tits bounce as he continues to thrust.

He sees your head shake, your eyes scrunch, it’s all becoming too much. You’re wincing like it hurts.

He touches your face now, his movements becoming softer and your eyes relax as you look up at him. He comes down to you and kisses you deeply again, just like he did at the start. You allow his lips and tongue to take over completely and you just melt into him as he rocks his hips against yours, you feel so full.

“Would you kiss me like this when we find a new home?” You ask, letting go of his lips.

Daryl meets your eyes, if he could look into yours any deeper, he does. His tone is so low but his words are so sincere, “I’ll kiss you like this anywhere.”

You reach up to take his face in your hands, kissing him lightly, it’s something like clouds. “Would you kiss me like this too?”

He nods, “I’ll kiss you like that.” Looking down he adds, “any way you want.”

Daryl grinds into you again, rolling his hips. The pace slowly gets fast, but it feels more intimate this time. His forehead falls in yours and your back arches and you try to meet his movements.

Daryl started to pant, his sounds gruff until your cunt squeezed so tightly, quaking around one of his thrusts that it made him whimper and he says your name. His noises because inexpressible and your own follows afterwards, ultimately saying, “oh- Daryl- please-”

You’re almost there, you see the outlines of stars, the shine of them almost being filled in, you see the insides of your eyelids getting closer to reaching that glow of bright lights as your body is on the cusp of your climax until-

“Oh-” he laughs to himself quietly, putting his hands low on his hips as he turns only slightly. “Sorry,” Rick says. His smirk is so faint, his jaw even clenches to erase it, but you saw. Immediately when he spoke, your head shot in his direction.

Daryl quickly finds your shirt, putting it over your head and grabs your pants, helping you put them over your feet until you take over so he can put on his own shirt.

Through hooded eyes, Rick had to have seen Daryl’s dick swing as he got up, retrieving his pants and putting them back on as Daryl stared at him.

You look up at Daryl as you get up yourself. His eyes give no details of his surprise to Rick as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. Rick’s eyes are averted, you don’t know what he’s thinking about what he just saw except that he definitely saw it. Never more did you wish to have Daryl’s talent of impassivity, especially in such an exposing scene.

“Well,” Rick starts when you two are finally dressed, “Yeah, so Michonne, Carl, and Judith and I stayed on the roads, we kept walking until we found a car someone left near a tree. They were idiots for driving it in here, big branch fell on it, we got it off but it has a dent. Right when we got it to run we heard voices. Guessing it was their car. They were running from another group and then they started running faster to get us. Some of them took care of each other… we took care of the rest,” he pauses. “Anyway we drove back to rendezvous and found Carol. Carol’s looking for Glenn, Maggie, Rosita, Tara. Michonne and Carl are looking for the rest of the guys, and I- was looking for you two.”

“Hm,” Daryl’s voice is indifferent as he starts walking, “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” Rick agrees, his voice has a hint of the humor he’s trying to suppress as he chuckles once.

The two men walk together and you walk a few paces behind, still absolutely wordless.

After a few minutes, Daryl slows his pace, creating distance from him and Rick.

He looks back at you now, “You good?” He asks only loud enough for you to hear as he comes a bit closer, he takes your hand lightly, though he still walks in front of you. You simply nod, but your face is still flushed. “Okay,” he says softly before letting go.

“Are you?”

He shrugs, it’s so small, just as small as the closed mouth smile that faintly curls on his face. His answer makes you laugh a little. You liked that he was honest. You start walking with him now.

Rick is still up ahead, putting his hands in his pockets, facing neither of you as he finally speaks again, “It was a pretty heated moment we all had back there,” your eyes widen as he continues, “Before. When we separated, I mean. It was dumb. It’s good we took a break, but the fighting, that was stupid. We find a way together or not at all.” His words are firm, but there is a heavy doubt in his voice when he adds, “But we can’t keep going like this, we need to figure something out,” he sighs, shaking his head, “And for everyone to get over their damn attitudes. At least for the night. It’s getting late and we need to find shelter.”

Rick turns his head slightly to look at Daryl through the corner of his eyes, making sure there is enough space from him and you as he turns forward, unashamedly grinning to himself now, “Glad you two found a way of working it out though.”

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #twd fanfiction #twd smut #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you

[thesofthuman]

I just want to die

since you've sent this to me i hope that means you want me to answer. i want to begin by saying how empathetic i am towards you and how i'm sorry this is what you're feeling. i was there too, years ago now, and i'm glad it wasn't something i gave into. being a person can be really hard. really, really hard. some people don't get it. they can function like it's no weight. but for others it can feel so heavy. what i can tell you is that feelings pass, and thoughts pass, and we can learn how to reinvent them and have new ones that eventually feel like the only ones we currently know. now i can't tell you what to feel or how you feel it, but i can tell you what i felt. something that clicked for me when i felt this way was maybe that i didn't fully want to die, that i didn't fully want to leave everything in my life. i loved aspects of my life, i just felt so deep in my darkness that these things seemed out of touch, they couldn't reach me and i couldn't reach them. i couldn't feel any of the things that mattered to me. and what hurt, what felt impossible, became a weight strapped to my legs. everywhere i went it followed. i'm not saying this to be cliche, only because it is the truth. what i found was that i wanted to kill off parts of myself, parts of my life, parts of the past that haunted me. i wanted a new life. i wanted something to love me back. so i killed off what i needed to. i dove all the way in to a different way of being, as much as i could. i mourned. i felt what i needed to feel. i got help. i talked to someone, i wrote in my journal, i made it a serious commitment that my life depended on to LOVE something every day. to SEE something in the world that i had been blind to before. it took all of me to do it, and it saved me. i kept note of what i saw in a little journal. i still do this today. i put myself in the world and i let the heavy wall get knocked down bit by bit. i committed to it more than i've ever committed to loving someone, or hating myself, or staying in my room. yes, the heaviness carved away at me, but it left room to fill up. so i filled it up. it wasn't a quick fix, but it was real and it worked and i'm telling you this because i'm still here to tell you this. i killed off what i needed to. i moved, i went to a new school, i left the school, i made new friends, i let go of attachments, i stopped asking for what couldn't be given elsewhere and looked within. of course some parts still stay, and we learn to soften the edges of them. and life becomes beautiful again. the beauty, the meaning, the joy, the feeling creeps in slowly like sunlight under a door. hang on for that. hang on because there are a million lives to try on and live and you can start tomorrow, you can start at 3am, you can start as soon as you read this message. the heart of life is always there and you can touch it again. i wrote a list a long time ago here of all of the little reasons to stay alive, and since then in my mind i've added 1,000,000 new things. if i can find it i will reblog it for you. i care for you, i care about you staying in this world and living a big love-filled life that you deserve, no matter what has happened in the past. kill off the past and have something new. it saved me, it can save you.

#fixed all the passionate typos

[1mmeee2]

The Nightmare (Gregory House x Reader) 

Request:

writing-multifandoms

Hi, I just had a pretty intense nightmare. Can I please request House x reader where reader stops sleeping due to nightmares and House notices and helps and eventually they just one day end up passing out from exhaustion and they are asleep on his shoulder? Sorry if that's too long! Thank you.

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Today, like for the passed week or so was not good. Recently you barely got enough sleep from all the nightmares you've gotten, and it's even worse when your basically needed to the hospital 24/7 waking up early as 5am and staying late at 1am . "Ms. Y/L/N, we got a patient for you in room 231. It's a little girl with a high fever and is growing rashes on her body." One of the nurses said to me making me nod. "Uh… sure, yes… yes… Okay." You said tiredly rubbing your eyes as you walked you way to the room. Before you entered in the room you quickly fixed your hair and forced yourself a present and soft smile ready to show your not at all dying from lack of sleep.

"Good morning, Mr and Ms, Phylis." You said nicely as the two greeted you back. "So… anything?" Ms. Phylis asked worriedly as you checked all the little girl Amy's tests which showed she had a mild fever. "She's all good for now, nothing severe. Once we figure out what she needs, we'll be giving her amoxicillin to help with both her skin and her fever." You explained to the two. "What does that do?" Mr. Phylis asked making her sigh as your brain couldn't remember what they do.

"Uh… It helps kill the bacteria and helps with ear infection, strep throat, pneumonia, skin infections, and more." You said sighing hoping your not mixing up different medication. "All right, thank you doctor." Mr. Phylis said as I nodded and checked Amy's IV and left the room to turn in some papers to House.

Like before, when you stood outside is door you quickly made a soft look and tried your best not to look tired and entered in House's office. "Got some papers for you to sign." You said softly to House who looked at you weirdly. "So are you now a late drinker?" House asked you making you look at him confused. "No… What makes you think that?" You asked him a bit offended by him. "You're eye bags are very dark, your concealer isn't doing it's job." House said making you look away from him to look at yourself in a mirror close by and saw how your eyes bags were indeed showing itself.

"Shit…" You said as basically everyone, every doctor, every nurse, every patient you've seen all basically saw your eyes. "Wow, Ms Y/L/N you said a bad word." House said making you roll your eyes annoyed at his rudeness. "Okay, yes I haven't gotten enough sleep… But I didn't drink… I've just been having a hard time sleeping for the past--" "Few weeks, yeah. I've noticed." House said getting up from his office chair walking towards you.

"How do you know?" You asked while House lifts your face up to face him as he inspects your eyes more. "You're my employee of this team, and I must say, you are very terrible at hiding things." House said to you making me sigh in annoyance. "Look, I'll… I'll try to get more sleep. I just can't." You said so pissed off, but not because of House and stuff, but it was because you barely got any sleep for the past week or so. "Then what is the issue for your lacking of sleep?" House asked you. "It's just hard to sleep recently." You said fighting with your fingers.

"By the look of your posture and your attitude… You can't sleep because of nightmares… Your always anxious… you magically one day can't sleep right… any time something bad or off happens you pinch yourself probably to make sure your not dreaming… So… you got those nightmares… huh little kid." House said making you both shocked and pissed at him. "Look, if your not gonna help, I'll deal with it myself and continue my job." You said walking towards the door to leave his office. "What would you do? To help your nightmares?" House asked but genuinely curious.

"Maybe some sort of pill? Prazosin seems to be my best option." You said thinking about going to the pharmacy to get some. "No, you're not." House said suddenly confusing you. "When did you start telling what I can and can't do in my personal life?" You asked him. "It's been weeks you've been having this, and you are for sure the one person I know who'd get quickly dependent on any pill… making you and addict." House said softly at the end but to you… you just got annoyed. "Look… you have no say in what I do to help myself." You said angrily opening the door and left to continue to work.

-Time Skip-

It soon got late and your basically at the verge of passing out. So you walked over to the washing stalls and started washing your face to wake yourself up as you're going to be staying at the hospital longer then usual. As you stared at yourself at the mirror your pager rang making you look and saw House as paged you making you sigh in annoyance not wanting to talk to house.

"What?" You asked entering his office. "Whoa, you look way worse then earlier today." House said making her roll your eyes. "What is it you need?" You asked him. "You're going to rest here." House said using his cain and pointed at his couch. "I can't sleep, I have patients and paper work to do." You said but felt a hit of exhaustion making everything blurry and you soon started feeling your body move left and right. "I think you should sleep. Can't have you pass out on your patients." House said getting up from his seat and quickly helped you down on his couch as he sat down next to you. "I'm fine…" You said weakly but you and him knew you're tired. "Just rest." House said to you as you closed your eyes and let your boy finally relax. Soon enough you slowly felt your head resting on House's shoulder which would freak you out but at this point you didn't give a shit and got that sleep you needed.

As you slept on House's shoulder, he just sat there a bit awkwardly but also quite fine with you there. Recently House himself even noticed how much kinder he is towards you and how he'd let you get away with things that would usually piss him off. And sleeping on his shoulder would be that… But he just continued looking at you and didn't move not wanting to wake you up, looking at you in a loving way as he too slowly closed his eyes to rest.

#oneshot #xreader #gregory house x reader #gregory house #house md #house x reader #gregory house imagine #greg house #house md imagine

[multifandombxxch]

saw your requests were open, YUTA JEALOUS FICTION COME ONNNNNNNN

“Strip” Yuta said after a long period of silence.

You had no idea that the night would end up like this.

You had left the house with a smile and carefree attitude but later returned with an extremely angry boyfriend and sexual tension hanging in the air.

“Yuta, I’m sorry you know I would never allow anybody to touch me like that I was just taken aback.” you pleaded

He said nothing for a couple seconds then all of sudden he looked up at you and scoffed.

He started to close the distance between you two with each word

“How.” Step

“Many” another step

“Times” his final step.

He was directly in-front of you now. Both of you breathing so hard and fast knowing this was only going to end one way.

“Do I have to tell you…” his hand found their way to your jaw and started to caress you before gripping your jaw so hard your lips puckered

“You are fucking mine.” he stared at you with both his eyes and dick hard.

You concluded that he really was pissed.

Fuck. You knew you wouldn’t be able to walk for a couple of days.

“Now strip and get on the fucking bed” he released your face but still maintained eye contact.

You started to peel your clothes off your body while internally sighing.

‘If I had just kept myself quiet’ you thought

3 hours earlier

The Nct boys were having a house party and wanted to invite you.

So here you were currently in their living room sitting beside a friend of the boys named Eunwoo.

You were already here for a couple hours but still couldn’t find your boyfriend

The boy had told you he went out earlier for a schedule.

So naturally you stroked up a conversation with Eunwoo as the other boys were…busy in more ways than one.

“So y/n do you have boyfriend? I’m only asking because it’s kind of unbelievable that someone as pretty as you would come here alone.” Eunwoo asked as he scooted closer to you.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Why was he trying to get close to you all of a sudden

“I’m taking your silence as a no. So no boyfriend right? How about we leave this party and get to know each other better” Eunwoo said as he began to snake his arm around your waist.

“If you get what I’m implying. I promise I can show you a good time” he smirked.

You we’re about to push him off and let him know that you were taken.

You wanted to let him know that your boyfriend was very possessive and he wouldn’t stand a chance against him but before you could say anything a chill went down your spine.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Someone was looking at you and you had an idea of who it was.

Your eyes searched the room for him and eventually you found him.

He was at the door…dressed head to toe in black.

And even though the living room was dimly lit you could see the dark and jealous look in his eyes.

“Shit” you cursed

“You need to get off me man” you said to Eunwoo

“My boyfriend is here and he looks like he’s gonna kill you” you mumbled

Eunwoo grinned “so you do have a boyfriend. No biggie I can take him”

Your eyes widened when you realized yuta was walking towards you.

He wasn’t walking at a normal pace either he was walking slower than usual. His body language was a bit too relaxed.

But his eyes…

His fucking eyes were fixed on Eunwoo’s arm around your waist

You shot up out of the couch…Eunwoo’s hand dropping after the sudden movement.

Eunwoo was a bout to protest but before he could a chilling voice spoke beside you

“I thought I told you to stay home y/n” his voice was calm and held no hostility to it but you knew better.

Yuta had told you to stay home and not come to the party but you had decided to be stubborn and stupid enough to disobey him.

You looked down at the floor in shame and embarrassment.

Maybe when you got home you could talk your way out of this.

“She’s mine. Don’t push your fucking luck” he was addressing Eunwoo

“Sorry bout that man…” Eunwoo said raising his hands in surrender before getting up and walking to the kitchen.

“Let’s go.” Yuta said after Eunwoo left

You both walked out of the party without saying anything to each other.

You decided to break the silence

“Please don’t be an-“

“Shut your fucking mouth I don’t want to hear anything until we get home so I can fuck some sense into you.” He said cutting you off.

You both walked silently but you could feel his anger radiating off him in waves.

Present

And that’s how you ended up here.

Your clothes were all gone now and you were laying on the bed

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget that fucker even approached you” Yuta spoke out

“You are mine as I am yours. Mind, body and soul.”

He started to spread your legs .

“ I’ll make sure you remember that tonight and forever.”

#nct johnny #nct 127 #nct mark #nct dream #nct haechan #nct taeil #nct jaehyun #nct taeyong #nct smut #nct imagines #nct yuta #yuta smut #yuta scenarios #nct x y/n #nct x reader

[lovebombs4life]

all i wanted - m.g.c.

requested: no i’m just emo rn

a/n: it’s like 5am rn and i can’t sleep so im writing

cw: angst song blurb, swearing, fluff end

———

3 days ago

“please michael, tell me how we can fix this!” i begged, tears falling down my face, staining my cheeks.

“i don’t think we can fix this y/n. both of us are gone all the time, it’s just not good for us.” he bit his lip, tears falling down his face too.

i wanted more than anything to just walk up to him and wipe the tears from his face, and hold him close one last time.

before i could even think of doing so, he grabbed his keys and opened the door to our apartment. “i’m sorry, y/n.” he choked out, leaving me alone in our shared apartment.

———

current time

i took deep breaths as i prepared to walk out on stage. i was one of the acts for the vma’s, performing ‘all i wanted’ by paramore.

that wasn’t originally the plan, until the breakup. it was supposed to be michael and i, and we were going to sing ‘everything has changed.’

i tried to clear my head, knowing michael would be watching, just a few rows away from the stage. i took a deep breath as i was directed to the stage. i put my ear pieces in, and was handed a mic.

i walked to the mic stand, putting my mic on, waiting for them to announce my performance.

“for the performance we’ve all been waiting for, here is y/n y/l/n!” i heard ring through my ears.

i smiled out to the crowd, taking a deep breath as the opening chords started playing. i wrapped my hands around the mic, closing my eyes.

“think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there.” i sang, the crowd roaring.

“i’ll beg you nice from my knees.” i continued. tears pricked my eyes as i kept going.

i looked out into the crowd, spotting michael, watching him. he bit his lip, bringing his hand to his mouth and bit his nails.

“all i wanted was you.” i sang quietly, keeping my eyes glued to michael. i blinked my tears away.

as the drums came in, i moved my body to the beat. i closed my eyes, feeling the music. i forced myself to look anywhere but where michael was sitting. thousands of eyes were on me, yet i could only feel his burning into my skin.

tears flowed down my cheeks, and i’d wipe them away occasionally, trying to keep my makeup from running down my face.

i took a deep breath as i got to the end of the song, having to hold out that long note. my nerves faded away as i belted it, making the crowd go wild.

i wiped my face once more as the song ended, running off stage. i couldn’t hold it back anymore, running into my dressing room, crying.

i sniffled hard, trying not to let my nose get runny, failing at doing so. i let my sobs out, grabbing tissues to clear out my nose.

i gasped for air. everything was finally feeling so real. michael wasn’t mine anymore. he didn’t want me.

i grabbed a pillow from the couch, sticking my face into it, letting out sobs that turned to screams. i gripped at my hair, pillow on my legs, my knees to my chest as i screamed into the pillow.

there was a knock on my door. ignored it, still crying. it came again, this time louder. “go away!” i yelled, hugging my legs.

“please, y/n,” a broken voice called from the other side. i went to the door, leaning against it, hearing his voice for the first time in what felt like years.

“n-no, michael! i can’t!” i cried, my forehead pressed to the door. somehow, i knew he was doing the same, his hands pressed to the door.

“you’re all i need, y/n. i want to work out our schedules, everything, i want us to work.” he begged.

i breathed in sharply. “you didn’t want to try the other night, why now?” i questioned, trying to catch my breath.

“because i love you. seeing you perform up there broken like that instead of filled with love with me alongside you just fucking killed me. please, y/n, let me in.” he sniffed.

i pulled away from the door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. he lifted his head to look at me.

my makeup was running down my face. black streaks of mascara stained my cheeks, my eyeliner smudged around my eyes.

his face was shiny from crying, too. he walked in, grasping me tightly. i nuzzled my head into his shoulder, sobbing. he moved us forward, closing the door behind us.

i screamed into his shoulder, feeling his embrace slightly calm me. i gasped, trying to regulate my breathing.

“i want this to work, i need this to work, y/n. he cried, stroking my hair, squeezing me. i nodded into his shoulder. i took deep breaths, my body relaxing as i drowned in his presence.

“then tell me how to make it work, michael.” i asked, pulling out of his hold. he held onto my hands, looking down at me.

“i want you to come on tour with me, i want to go on tour with you. we’ll get your manager to schedule your concerts a few days before or after our shows, we’ll space them out, something, we’ll make it work.” he stated, squeezing my hands.

“i need to see how much you love and need me, not just hear it.” i spoke, squeezing his hands back.

he nodded his head, pulling me back in to hug me. i looked up at him. his eyes flickered to my lips, and back at my eyes, questioning if he could.

i nodded my head. he leaned down, kissing me softly.

in that moment, i knew everything would be okay.

#michael clifford #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #5sos #5sos5 #michael 5sos #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #ashton 5sos #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford blurb

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently - 7

Prev/Next

“Oh! Oh- wow! Ah! No! Sorry!” Impulse backpedaled away as Mumbo yelped, leaping about six feet into the air away from a sleeping Scar. The cold crashed back into him the moment he lost contact with the planchette, which was probably a good thing, since Impulse wouldn’t be able to see his flushed cheeks. Without Mumbo’s supporting shoulder, Scar crashed directly into the ground, but miraculously, did not wake up. The two ghosts were left staring at each other, Mumbo, floating near the ceiling. At this point, he was seriously considering going through it to escape whatever confrontation was coming his way.

“Don’t go,” Impulse broke through his thoughts, waving his hands, “I was just surprised by.. I mean, Grian told us what you told him, about the being alive thing? Or feeling alive? I just didn’t expect you to look alive. Well, not completely, but you had so much color! I’m not here to yell at you, by the way.”

“No?”

“Nope! Come sit, will you?” Impulse crossed his legs, floating idly in the air. When you don't need hard surfaces to ground you, why use them? Mumbo slowly let himself fall to Impulse’s level, wrapping his arms around his long legs.

“I’m sorry, Impulse. I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Well, it wasn’t just you. But I appreciate it. That’s not what I wanted to talk about though,” Impulse furrowed his brow, considering carefully what he wanted to say next, “I also wanted to apologize. I feel like I’ve failed you, especially in this past month.”

“What- No. Impulse, you’ve always been great!” Mumbo’s chest tightened. This was worse than being yelled at.

“Just listen, alright? I was thinking a lot about what you were saying yesterday-”

“Oh god, please don’t think about that”

“No! It’s important. I’ve spent a lot, maybe all of my time after we all died trying to fix things, so we could all move on together. I want us to move on, you know that. This isn’t healthy. But Pearl and Grian won’t even consider it before they’ve killed Scar, and I thought maybe you would go if they went, so I’ve been trying to help them under the assumption you were just.. fine? But you weren’t! Obviously! You said it yourself that you were miserable, and I’m just kicking myself because none of us noticed!”

“Impulse..”

“Please listen. There’s nothing wrong with what you feel about hurting or even killing Scar. I mean, if we’re being honest here, I don’t really care what happens to Scar either. I care about you guys. I want to do what makes you guys happy. But clearly this last month you haven’t been happy. I mean, Christ, you’ve spent multiple days laying on the floor of his room literally falling apart while the rest of us were out making death traps that aren’t even going to work. And I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I wish I would have noticed that isn’t what you wanted. That you would have felt comfortable enough asking us, or even just me, for help with what you needed, instead of going to Scar.”

Mumbo opened his mouth, but no words came out. Was there anything to say? There had to be. He closed his mouth, but when he opened it again, all that came out was a barely muffled sob. Impulse came to him, wrapping him in his large arms. It felt so painfully safe. Mumbo buried his head in Impulse’s shoulder, unable to fend off his own wretched sobs. Impulse didn’t let go.

“You know, Mumbo, if it’s too hard.. to stay, I mean. No one would blame you if you left. Moved on to whatever’s next. It’s scary, not to know, but I think it must be better than this. Even if it’s nothing. Even if it just ends.”

It was hard to think through his tears. Even harder to put those thoughts into words. Maybe at one point, he would have been able to move on. He wasn’t vengeful like Grian and Pearl. He was upset of course, but there was something new now, like a pull or a string. To Scar. A commitment to knowing him. To get Scar to admit why he didn’t want to be known. With a twinge of panic, Mumbo considered he might be trapped in an impossible task. He had to find out, or he would never be able to heal. To escape. Is.. this how Pearl felt?

“I don’t think I can. I think I’m stuck.”

Impulse nodded, tightening his hold, “Well I’m sticking around until all of us are ready. You won’t ever be alone if I have anything to say about it. And if you need help, doing whatever it is you need to do, then you just have to ask.”

Mumbo bit his lip, lingering in a moment of silence. His mind warred over his own conflicted feelings; about everything, about Scar. “Impulse?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t.. I just feel completely crazy about this- I want Scar to like me. Really bad. I-I want him to feel comfortable around me! I want him to be vulnerable and talk to me and I can’t stop . It’s like I know every horrible thing he’s done, but it just bothers me so much to think he never cared about us the way we cared about him. I can’t move past it,” Mumbo curled his fingers into Impulse’s back, putting his head back into his shoulder to escape any disappointed expression. It was all so stupid.

Impulse’s silence felt so much like rejection. Mumbo felt his own body curl into itself.

“I think that makes sense,” Impulse began, tapping a finger to his lip, “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“But he killed me! He killed all of us!”

“He did. But before that, he was our friend. Family, even, as he likes to put it. We shared a lot of time together getting to know him, and having that person turn around and tell us he isn’t who we thought he was.. it creates a disconnect, doesn’t it? Pearl and Grian deal with that disconnect by being angry. By chasing revenge. I think what you’re going through is similar, isn’t it?”

“It feels a lot more like I’m betraying all of my friends.”

“No, no. You’re just grieving. Pearl and Grian grieve us as a crew. You’re grieving Scar. And it’s not that black and white, obviously, but I don’t think there's anything wrong with it. Really, it’s just up to how we deal with those feelings. To be honest, everything we’ve been doing up until this point has been unhealthy, and I’m going to declare a Scar vacation. More on that later.” Before Mumbo could ask what he meant by a Scar vacation , Impulse continued, “Actually! How about we go meet up with Pearl and Grian now?”

“They won’t want to see me.”

“I think you’ll be surprised. In any case, basically everyone wants to apologize to each other, and I refuse to take messages for you guys. Talk it out like adults. You can’t just avoid them forever, and I’m not going to let you when your only other option for company is Scar.”

“I guess.. Hey-!” Mumbo squawked as Impulse took his hand and started pulling him away, laughing as he went.

“There’s no time like the present, Mumbo!”

“ Well - that’s fine but-” Mumbo dug his heels in, but given that he and Impulse were walking through air, this wasn’t very effective, “I have one more question!”

“Shoot!” Impulse looked back with a cheeky grin, not slowing his pace.

Mumbo pursed his lips, the question sticking on his tongue, “How do you deal with it? The.. uh.. disconnect.”

Impulse stopped, a look of surprise flashing across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, laughing nervously as he turned around, “It’s a little embarrassing. Probably not healthy. Don’t laugh, will you?”

Mumbo drew a hand over his mouth to hide his chuckle, “Impulse, I don’t see how you could be any worse off than the rest of us!”

“You’re already laughing!” Impulse pointed accusatorily, but his smile betrayed his good nature. Not that Mumbo had doubted it.

“Given that you seem to be dealing with this whole thing better than the rest of us, I feel like you would have some valuable insight here.”

“Well I don’t actually think I’m dealing with it at all, so there you go.”

“What?”

“I guess I have to say now,” Impulse rolled his eyes in an exaggerated gesture, his smile softening as he met Mumbo’s eyes, “The Scar from before and after The Flying Jellie sunk are two different people to me. I can’t really comprehend them as the same, it just doesn’t compute in my brain like that. But then there’s the problem of the change, right? How did he change? Why? So I make up stories. Sometimes, Scar’s a zombie, or he got sick with some ‘kill your friends’ disease, or he’s any number of other things. Sometimes, he was bad from the beginning, tricking us. Sometimes, he was changed by something out of his control. It depends on the day. I think if I pretend like it’s a story, even if I’m a casualty, it puts a little distance between me and the pain. And, this is super dark, but in my mind, we aren’t going to be ghosts forever. We will eventually be able to rest and move on to whatever is next. And if what’s ‘next’ is nothing, then, I won’t ever have to unpack it.

“Huh.”

“It’s silly, I know.”

“No, it’s not. It makes sense.”

“Well.. there you have it.” As Impulse turned around, Mumbo noticed how tired he looked.

“Hey, Impulse, you know you can ask us for help too, if you need it. Right?”

Impulse took a moment to consider his question, looking hard at the ground. A moment turned into a long silence. That was answer enough.

“I’ll keep that in mind, alright?”

“You’d better,” Mumbo walked forward to his side, giving Impulse’s hand a small squeeze.

“Alright, alright, let’s go and regroup,” Impulse smiled, eyebrows still set in a stressed furrow, but there was a new lightness in his eyes. Mumbo returned the look. It wasn’t over. It didn’t have to be over.

#hermitcraft #pirates smp #hermitshipping #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #pearlescentmoon #boatem #boatemghostsau

[creepypasta-darling]

What happened when Julius met LJ? What are your HCs regarding Julius when it comes to the rest of the creeps?

(I'm not sure why but I feel like julius would get along very well with liu and bloody painter)

Anon you are absolutely right!

Julius the Dressmaker + How He Met The Creeps

I feel like he was alone for a long time. He just didn't need another partner in crime or another person getting in the way.

He met LJ at the local Speakeasy. Everyone there was confused on why a monochrome clown was there. They started to talk and LJ saw right through Julius. "So, you're like a demon, right?" The question caught Julius off guard and had him questioning whether or not to leave or kill LJ right there. "It's okay, I'm somewhat of a deity myself. You should meet some of my friends, you might get along with them."

That's how he met Candy Pop and Jason. Julius and Jason hit it off right away, but it took at least another decade for Candy Pop to even care about Julius. It wasn't until Julius one day brought one of his creations that Candy Pop even saw potential in Julius.

With becoming friends with Jason, he became friends with Vine. They met by accident because about another decade later Julius came to visit Jason, and Jason and Vine were hanging out. Which put High Alert in Julius's mind. Was he already going to lose a friend? But alas, he just gained a new one once Vine saw how much Julius's design looked like dolls.

Because Julius and Vine got along well, Vine had Julius met Papa Grande. Papa Grande was very skeptical of Julius, and the two never really got along well. They are two lone wolves when it comes to one another.

Because Julius had made friends with LJ's close friends, LJ invited Julius to the mansion to hang out In 2015. LJ introduced Julius to everybody there.

BEN, Puppeteer, and Suicide Sadie all thought Julius was a ghost at first due to his complexion. They tried to make him out how he passed so they could make him meet Sally. Julius, though, never told them.

Jeff and Nina didn't like him at all. Indifferent, passive, and ignorant towards him, even. Smile Dog liked getting pets so he tried to get Julius to pet him. Grinny Cat also tried to get close to him upon first meeting.

The Proxies saw right through Julius and decided to stay away. (I headcanon that the Proxies are kind of casteist and don't really like the demons. Hopefully I'll expand on it later but it's a big thing that is hard to explain. Think of Hamilton though. "Immigrants, we get the job done." But with demons.)

Speaking of demons, there was a small power struggle between him and them. EJ usually keeps out of stuff like that, but Kagekao was trying to pull pranks on Julius as soon as he entered the building. Yeahh that didn't really go well. Since they always hang out in the basement and LJ has his own room up near the actually demon/deity floor they don't interact a lot so that saves the heartache.

Clockwork liked Julius. He reminded her a lot of herself and Helen, who she deeply admires. Any artistic person usually gets on her good side, so it's no wonder she liked him lolz. Him, on the other hand, finds her desperate and clingy. And where he hates women it's hard for him to respect her. ESPECIALLY because she's so outspoken and dominant.

When he went to leave the mansion after hanging out he found the cabins. There, he met Helen and Dina. Helen and Julius instantly clicked when Julius saw Helen painting and using a body for a reference. Dina took some getting used to. It took a few times of Julius coming over for her to leave the two alone. (I headcanon Dina has BPD which is me projecting but it really makes sense for her character lolz. So it's hard for her to leave Helen alone.)

Then, he met the Rake, Momo, and BOB. Did not like any of them. Found them too be "too ugly" and in need of fixing. Which resulting in him getting toxic urine on him, which he did not appreciate.

All in all, he made quite a few friends, and there's only a few he doesn't know yet. He still has no idea about Zalgo and Zalgo's children, which is a good thing. And Puppeteer one day wants Zachery to meet Julius. Even if it's just to spy on him lolz.

I hope these were okay!! I'm so sorry this post is so long I got so excited to talk about it because I have this whole timeline I've thought about posting about when the creeps entered the mansion and how they interact with each other lolz. I'm so glad that I got to post some of it with Julius lolz I hope you guys like it!

#creepypasta #creepypasta-darling #headcannons #headcanons #julius the dressmaker #anon #laughing jack #jason the toymaker #vine the doll maker #papa grande di magico #proxies #slenderverse #creepypasta masky #creepypasta hoodie #nina the killer #jeff the killer #the rake #smiledog.jpeg #smile dog #grinny cat #zalgo's proxies #creepypasta zachary #eyeless jack #kagekao #clockwork #bloody painter #judge angels #creepypasta bob #creepypasta momo #creepypasta suicide sadie

[doctorhelena]

Steggy Fic: Until Then (We'll Have to Muddle Through, Somehow)

This is my very belated @steggyfanevents Steggy Secret Santa 2022 gift for @imxthexhandler (although, this year I am not technically late because I also made (unrelated) fanart!)

The story is complete, and a new chapter will be posted every Wednesday.

Story summary: Five times Peggy and Steve carved out small moments of happiness, and one time they didn’t have to.

Chapter summary: In which there is an apology that goes even better than Steve had hoped.

Rating: R

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

London, December 1943

“Well, you’re brave, I’ll give you that,” Howard Stark told him, both amused and a little impressed, judging by his voice and the quirk of his mustache. “But it might have been less risky to parachute solo into Krausberg, pal. I can get you the stockings, but even if you bring your new shield with you, I can’t guarantee you’ll deliver them alive.”

“She isn't going to kill me,” Steve said in what he was starting to think of as his Captain America voice - a tone that often radiated considerably more conviction than he actually felt. Now that he actually was a captain, using his stage voice seemed to give people the impression that he knew what he was doing. It was undeniably useful, but - it was also at least partly how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. “I’m too useful to the war effort.” 

Howard guffawed at that. “Look, kid, I’ve made a lot of women angry in my day, and my first piece of advice is whatever you say to her, definitely don't lead with that.” He shook his head, turning slightly more serious. “And my second piece of advice is - why bother trying so hard to fix things with her? Just be glad she’s forgiven you enough to work with you without trying to shoot you.” He shrugged easily. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, and you, my friend, are prime bait. Peggy’s a bombshell, there's no denying that, but there are a hell of a lot of pretty girls who it’s a hell of a lot safer to try to kiss. And look at you. Handsome mug, supersoldier muscles, and a hero to boot - the dames must be all over you.”

"Yeah, that’s the trouble,” Steve said glumly. “Well, that, and you and your sudden craving for fondue.” He buried his face in his hands. “God, I can’t believe I accused her of fonduing with you.” It was awful on two levels - the worst, of course, was the accusation itself, but spectacularly misunderstanding the meaning of the word fondue was right up there too.

Howard laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, you have got it bad, pal.” He nodded thoughtfully. “All right, if you’re going to do this, you’re going to have to go big. My usual weapon of choice is diamonds - necklace for apology, bracelet for ‘it's over’, earrings for - well, it doesn't matter. Now, I stay far away from the rings, myself, but - ”

“I think I’ll just stick with the stockings, thanks,” said Steve firmly. “How much?” The Army not only fed and housed him, it paid him too, and from what he’d gathered from Bucky and the guys, he was pretty sure he could cover a pair of stockings from his savings, even at black market prices.

Howard waved his hand. “For you, kid, they’re on the house. Let me talk to my butler. How long are you in London?”

Steve blinked. Of course Howard Stark had a butler. Steve had never even seen a butler, unless you counted on the silver screen at Sunday matinees. “We ship out Tuesday,” he said. “But - if you could get them a bit earlier, I’d like to - ”

Howard smirked at him. “All right, pal, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” said Steve, sincerely. He was planning to apologize one way or another, but he felt better bringing a peace offering when he did.

Howard grinned. “I like your spirit, kid. And, I’ve seen the way Peg can’t keep her eyes off you. You just might have a chance of coming out of this alive.”

Read the rest on A03

#fanfic #steggy #my fic #steggysecretsanta #peggy carter #steve rogers #imxthexhandler

[kiseiakhun]

Smash or Pass: Roy, Garth, Dick, Starfire, Raven, Kyle

Titans Go!

Roy: you know the answer. I know the answer. Everyone knows the answer. Smash. 100% I would smash. I would smash him like a wineglass against a hard marble floor. I would smash him like I accidentally smashed my phone screen two months ago while walking back from the grocery store. I want to ride him until my legs wobble and give out. I want to feel his weird possibly sentient soul patch drag over my thighs and give me beard burn. Idc if it's pathetic n52 garbage rat Roy. Would smash. Want to smash. It hurts me that I can't smash. Roy Harper pls come into this world so I can smash, i have dark hair, I am your type. You can dress me in a skimpy kimono and call me Cheshire if you want, idc.

Garth: SMASH. SMASH SMASH SMASH. I want him to hold me down with his big arms and (a truck barrels past honking loudly)

Dick: okay so this is hard. If he approaches me in full Richard Grayson mode I feel like I wouldn't be interested because he'd feel too much like another subby guy looking for a mommy gf to step on them. Yes, he's pretty, but I wouldn't be INTERESTED, you know? However knowing him in his entirety I know he must be a freak in bed. He would make me feel loved. Idk if that's a good thing though because one or both of us might have a breakdown mid sex because it feels Too Intimate and idk how I feel knowing he's staring down at me mid coitus comparing me to his dad. Like even if he doesn't want to fuck his dad there's some level of psychosexual obsession going on there and I Do Not Want To Get Involved. I don't have red hair though so idk if I even have a chance. Then again, dick HAS hooked up with Asians before, so maybe? I just assume everyone in the dcu has an Asian fetish because some senior editor in the new titans age definitely did. Does. They're probably still alive, it wasn't that long ago. Look at all the Asian baby mamas running around in the dcu. Does marvel has this many Asian baby mamas? Someone who knows marvel comics, tell me.

(I have just had my first coffee of the day, if things devolve into incoherence past this point, blame the ice capp. I forgot how much caffeine these things have.)

Anyway. If I want to insert myself in the psychosexual obsession between father and not-adopted son, I think I would choose Garth and Arthur. They're like. All the subtext between Bruce and Dick but for them it's not even subtext. Like Bruce only tossed dick at deaths door a couple of times, but Arthur ACTUALLY tried to kill Garth, you know? And Garth already has precedence for stealing Arthur's fiance, I think he gets off on it, I think it stokes his ego. And I definitely want to stoke Garth's ego, and also stoke other things. I want to make him happy. I'm much more invested in making Garth happy than in making dick happy because dick experiences one moment of happiness and self sabotages himself just like his dad who he insists he has no similarities to, none at all. I would say he needs therapy but he's gone to therapy and it didn't fix him. Also, Garth is less likely to cheat on me (because he never shows up and has no chance of character development)

"But kis," you say, "this is just about smashing, who cares about a lasting relationship?" This is DICK GRAYSON. You think DICK GRAYSON can do a one night stand? You think he can keep his feelings out of it? Dick of "wow Roy how can you have all these one night stands and casual fuckbuddies, I could never," fame. You think you can have a one night stand with Dick Grayson? Either I'm sleeping with him because I'm a supervillain trying to get to someone through him, looking for evidence that can link Nightwing to his every id so I can use it to blackmail Bruce into becoming my sugar daddy, or I'm the newest complication thrown between him and his current redhead of the week, depending on whether the writer ships dickbabs or dickkori. Like I think the sex WOULD be worth it but I think it would also leave me with an emotional void that I would try to fill with more casual sex, but somehow it never feels like enough. Nothing would ever fulfill me again.

Except Roy. Roy could fix me. Roy is used to fixing Dick's mistakes, what's one more to add to the mix. Fuck. I just accidentally made this Jayroy. moving on.

Starfire: SMASH. Show me how they do it on Tamaran, princess. I would sleep with her for industry connections but then she'd be so good to me I'd end up falling in love.

Raven: normal raven doesn't interest me that much but I would absolutely smash evil sexy raven. The one that got Kori pregnant that one time. The raven of "Gar Logan is here to get down and get funky" fame. I do not have a hypnokink but I WOULD let evil sexy raven mind control me just to lure Kori into her bed and disgard me once I'm no longer useful.

Kyle: unfortunately yes I would smash and yes I am ashamed about it. < Wally, probably. He's so pathetic and annoying and I am into it 😔 I wouldn't even be drawn in by his failgirl qualities. I would get drawn in by his pretentious artist schtick. He'd pull his straight man art kid moves on me and it would WORK. Yes I WILL swoon over his passion for his craft and his amateur understanding of philosophy and yes I will romanticize his messy, scattered nature as his natural artist inclination. And also I would get him some Adderall. Yes I will let him shotgun me after we sneak away from a party thrown by an acquaintance half removed form the both of us and drive him back to his apartment (because he can't drive) and make sweet love to him and hold him as he sobs about his dead girlfriend after he accidentally tells me he loves me. And after all that I still won't block his number. I'll be like 🥺 he's such a sensitive soul... and let him hit me up whenever he's back on earth. I could only do this with Kyle because he's on earth maybe 3 months out of the year so I only have intermittent exposure to his everything. If I had to see him consistently I'd get tired and ghost him within the second week. But I would still do it. I would let him pull fuckboy moves on me and it'll work ):

#asks #chronomotive #ask games #Ice capps are really strong.

[bungajurang]

But even at our swiftest speed, we couldn't break from the concrete.

"I can't expect you to be honest or to be faithful every day 'til the end. I just need you to be always a friend. You and I were born in motion, never in one place for too long a time. And now it's the only way we know to survive" -When We Drive, Death Cab for Cutie

"Breaking is easy and hope is hard. Because some days are good. And some years aren't" -Some Days, Ira Wolf

"It's kinda like a light went off. And now you're deadset on giving me up. Talking like we're so far gone and there ain't no use stitching it up. I know the ride's rough, but try us. I'm just thinking 'bout love" -Thinking 'Bout Love, Wild Rivers

"Falling in, inch by inch. I'm not resisting. And I'm addicted tonight. Turn the lights off when you're leaving. Never going home again. Don't wait up for me, I'm not leaving" -Never Going Home, Hazel English

"Oh, my, my, my. Oh how I tried. And as we lie silently. Your body soft, so close to me, close to me. Oh, my, my, my. Oh how I tried." -Slip Away, Oh Wonder

"If I can make you feel something, I can make you feel it down to your bones. When you close your eyes at night. Would you let me run straight to you. I want to see you." -On the Corner Where You Live, The Paper Kites

"But while you debate half-empty or half-full. It slowly rises: your love is gonna drown. Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole. Just like a faucet that leaks. Your love is gonna drown. Your love is gonna drown. Your love is gonna...." -Marching Bands of Manhattan, Death Cab for Cutie

"But I'm stubborn. Selfish. Easily jealous at times. I'm hard to love, and I just want someone to try. I want someone, who listens when they've heard the story, and gives me enough space to breath. Someone stubborn. Selfish, and easily jealous would be fine. I won't mind if they're hard to love. I just want someone to try." -Sunscreen, Ira Wolf

"We found love on an empty page. Kill the stars above trying to fight the fade, and now my heart skips heavy underneath the waves. We are done, we are gone. 'Cause this is already bigger than love. It's bigger than you, it's bigger than me." -Bigger Than Love, Oh Wonder

"I might never stop your sorrow, fix you up good as new. But that don't mean that I can't hold you hand in mine. I might never say I'm sorry, even if I done you wrong. But I think I could be someone you like. Someone you like." -Someone You Like, The Girl and The Dreamcatcher

"Every day I wake to feel the same. And every time you ask me how I'm feeling, I just smile and tell you that I'm fine. It's hard to stay true, to myself and to you." -I'm Fine, Hazel English

"The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row. It seems farther than ever before. I need you so much closer. I need you so much closer. I need you so much closer." -Transatlanticism, Death Cab for Cutie

"Nothing lasts forever. Some things aren't meant to be. But you'll find the answers. Untill you set your old heart free. Until you set your old heart free." -Hello My Old Heart, The Oh Hellos

"I'm stepping through the door, and I'm floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today." -Space Oddity, David Bowie

"I said I would never come back. Screaming at the walls in jet black. Hurt until my words are out flat. Can I whisper it back? What a waste, what a waste. What a waste to be so alone." -Waste, Oh Wonder

"On the back of a motorbike with your arms outstretched trying to take flight. Leaving everything behind. But even at our swiftest speed, we couldn't break from the concrete. In the city where we still reside. And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men. 'Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides. Like brothers on a hotel bed." -Brothers on a Hotel Bed, Death Cab for Cutie

"And I think it's gonna be a long, long time 'til touchdown brings me 'round again to find. I'm not the mand they think I am at home. I'm a rocket man." -Rocket Man, Elton John

"Spent all my weekends pretending I was fine. Just to get you out my mind for an evening. I used to wish you would never find the one. But it's good to see you loved, let's call it even." -Happy, Oh Wonder

#personal

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: I need help getting out of what I think might be Ni-Ti loop.

[Background: I have a rather atypical life. It could partially be because of where I am and partially for my loop. I started really well, was a good student and my teachers thought I was going to have a bright future.

During late teen years I found out the name of what I was dealing with, which had to do with being LGBT. I became depressed and reserved, but couldn't tell anyone about it, not even my family. So I kept it to myself and planned to immigrate one day.

I kind of ended up studying the 2nd thing my family wanted for me, but I resented it. My family told me to graduate and then do what I want. I was in my mid-20s when I graduated, and I was unemployed and lost. I studied hard and got accepted to a reputable grad school. I wanted to use that opportunity to build my CV.

A family member had promised (several times) to pay for my housing in case I got accepted to a good uni, but right when I told them about my acceptance, they pulled the rug under me and got what they had said back without any reason. So I ended up not going due to money issues.]

The main part : I'm now in my late 20s, and I feel even more lost. I compare myself with people my age from around the world and even my own past, and I feel behind in life.

I'm stuck in this Ni-Ti (or Ti-Si?) loop. I still haven't "moved out" to a more liberal part of the world, haven't begun my "process", and the depression caused by it, the pressure to keep all of it inside, and my inability to find my way out are killing me. It's like everytime I try to fix my situation, I fail and get back to stage one

I guess the logical thing is to have a fresh start, study something reasonable in my own town, get a BSc degree in it and try for an internship position while studying, in order to gain work experience, build my CV and then leave.

But I just don't have the energy to do it. I'm already stuck in my Ni-Ti loop. It's paradoxical, like a negative cycle or a dead-end. I know I have to let go of my internal state and work hard, in order to reach my goal, but I lack the energy, hope and internal strength to do it. And besides, what if I fail?

Everyday, I mourn for my lost youth, and I think it's already too late for me now, let alone after 4-5 years or more. I would be in my early to mid 30s by then, and even thinking about it makes me hopeless, anxious and suicidal. If the things in my past hadn't happened, I would be where I wanted to be right now, and I keep thinking about that (Ni loop of tunnel vision?).

I'm really tired of being repressed and closeted, not being able to explain my pain, appear like myself, choose my outfit, etc. And my future is ambiguous, which makes things even harder for me to deal with. I can't really talk about my "condition" with anyone in my life, and I feel too shy to trust and confess that to a therapist or ask for help in real life.

My question: How can I get out of this Ni-Ti loop/cycle and have a healthy life? I read a lot of self help books, but they don't seem to work. How can I stop feeling behind in life compared to people my age or even younger?

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

As explained in the study guides, getting out of Ni-Ti loop requires healthy dominant Ni functioning and developing healthy auxiliary Fe functioning.

Your Ni difficulties involve not having a good direction. This began with you not making the best decision with regard to your schooling and career; this likely continues because your idea of what your career should look like is too rigid or naive. Job and career aren't the same thing. It is possible to be happy without a career and career is only as important as you make it to be. Nowadays, it is quite common for people to explore many different career paths throughout life. Yet, you beat yourself up for it and, gradually, fear of failure infects your entire mindset, which is counterproductive and a waste of energy. As long as you devote energy to the negativity of guilt or regret, that energy isn't going to be available for positive efforts. Life isn't and shouldn't be a straight line and the sooner you understand and accept this reality, the more energy you will free up for positive growth.

Your Fe difficulties involve not having enough social support. You cannot avoid suffering in life, but good social support can help ease it. There is reason for you to keep this secret of yours, but remember that secrets eat you up inside. It is a self-destructive choice. Staying in the closet is harmful to mental health for a variety of reasons.

It isn't either/or; there is a healthy middle ground between complete silence and loudly proclaiming your identity in the streets. Of course, depending on where one lives, one has to exercise enough care and caution in exposing oneself. Remember that it doesn't matter where you live, every place has its fair share of good and bad people, and sexual minorities exist and have always existed among the majority population. There are always kindred spirits and sympathetic allies around, even if they can only be found online at first. Communicating with people online is sometimes the safer way and better than having no social support at all. An important part of being a healthy N is opening the mind to possibility.

If you care about your mental health and well-being, you should put out the effort to find some kind of social support. Bearing such suffering alone isn't a sustainable strategy, and it's especially unhealthy when it interferes with type development and keeps you trapped in harmful tertiary loop patterns.

Your Fe development issues are very understandable because of lack of social support, but they go far deeper than that in the way you rely on social comparison to measure yourself. This is an immature and maladaptive thought pattern that needs to be changed. Do you understand that every person is an individual and has their own path in life? Do you understand that your social comparisons are wrongheaded because you're comparing yourself against what you merely superficially see of others? Are you a mindreader? You don't know what other people are really thinking, feeling, or going through behind closed doors. And how they live is irrelevant to you and how you should live your life, that is, if you ever hope to become a truly independent adult.

You want social validation/acceptance, which is legitimate, but contorting yourself into a false image isn't the healthy way to achieve it. In fact, the start of the career problem came when you didn't decide according to your own needs but to meet the expectations of your family. Until you learn to put your own needs in perspective and prioritize them properly, you won't find your direction, and this will make it difficult to have healthy Ni.

#infj #auxliary fe #career #social comparison #independence #lgbtq #ask

[miss-ingno]

So @justacoyote did this last year, and I thought it was fun and wanted to give it a try! And then time passed and now I'm late as usual xD

How many works do you have on AO3? currently 210

What's your total AO3 word count? 1,133,881

What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Guardian, Granting You A Dreamlike Life, and Grimm

Plus a couple on-and-off or exchange-only fandoms like Dreamcatcher's Deja Vu, Disney's Descendants, Naruto, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Eldest Princess On Top (Zhǎng Gōng Zhǔ Zài Shàng), Castlevania (Cartoon) and Assassin's Creed (early games).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Partners in Crimes (RTAH RPF, Freewood, Fake AH Crew AU) at 907 kudos

Blindfold (RTAH RPF, Freewood, Fake AH Crew AU) at 858 kudos

The Dwight Timing (RTAH RPF, Jeremwood, Fake AH Crew AU) at 653 kudos

Take No Prisoners (Take No Shit), (RTAH RPF, original AH OT6, Fake AH Crew AU) at 581 kudos (my first and oldest work for ragehappy fandom /o\ and it shows lol)

Just Let Me Know If You Want It (It's Strictly Physical), (Dragon Age II, Fenders, omegaverse smut) at 561 kudos

Devil's Deal (Disney's Descendants, Jaylos + Harlos, pre-canon) at 515 kudos

As much as I loved my time back then in RTAH fandom, I do hope to eventually get a fic more popular unrelated to H*ywood, considering what was revealed about his irl behaviour.

For funsies, my top-kudoses Guardian work is Seas Cannot Be Measured (Weilan, outsider pov, kidfic) at 364 kudos. The second work I posted in my current fandom :D!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, because I like engaging with other fans! And if someone takes the time to leave me a comment, even a short one, I want to at least thank them because it means a lot to me <3

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably All Our Memories, They're Haunted, a Deja Vu MV fic in which Yoohyeon slowly descends into killing all her friends.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This one's hard! I write a lot of fluffy one-shots where the point is the happiness? Like, Days of Splendour is literally about Weilan getting their happy ending wedding.

Similarly, Pivot is a fix-it ending for Critical Role season 1, in which Vax doesn't die and Gilmore gets to date him, too.

And The Fringe Benefits Of Being Family is fluffy future kidfic snippets in which Weilan get to be parents while their girls grow up.

Do you get hate on fics?

I once got a backhanded compliment on a fic where the commenter asserted they didn't usually read this ship because the shippers are all sus for shipping it and did it wrong, but my take passed their sniff-test. But they'd keep a close eye on my next work for this ship, just in case.

I vaguely recall getting a comment once and then immediately deleting it, but I can't for the life of me remember why. Probably for the best?

And there was that ask I once got that sticks in my brain because it was HILARIOUS. It asserted that because I have a recognizable style and used things like. Grammar and paragraph formatting for pacing, my writing was dry and boring and the worst and I just was copying myself with every new fic. I screenshot it and had a good laugh with friends over it :D

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, and a lot of different kinds! Sometimes I want to explore certain kinks, like tentacles (What Lies In Darkness, Weilan with eldritch!Shen Wei) or D/s (Good Vibrations, Dom!ZYL with sub!Shen Wei). Other times I just want to explore the relationship between the characters (Special Occasion, Weilan birthday blowjob) or worldbuilding (Long Night In Longcheng, Weilan canon au with dragon!Shen Wei).

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I love crossovers! I sadly haven't written too many, though. I have some old WIPs for a Naruto x Batman Beyond and a YGO! x SG-1 crossovers in my pile I occasionally return to, but nowhere close to finished. And I'm seriously considering writing a Guardian x Grimm crossover at some point lol

Malum Purificatum, Guardian x Assassin's Creed II (AKA Weilan meets Ezio)

It's You And Me (Amongst The Stars), Critical Role s1 x Stargate SG-1, in which Pike & Grog meet SG-1

Sink Your Teeth In (To The People You Depend On), Jurassic World x MCU, raptor!Darcy Lewis/Owen Grady, unfinished WIP

A Trickster's Pact, ragehappy x MCU, Freewood

One Fact Changes All, YGO! x HP, Tendershipping, my first and oldest crossover, unfinished and abandoned

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

The closest I got (that I'm aware of) is someone copying the exact premise of my fic in a beat-by-beat way without crediting me for the inspiration. It was memorable because it was my most popular fic at that point and the fandom didn't have a similar premise before.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Recently someone Furimmer translated my story An Intimate Touch into Russian! First time someone found my fic worth it to translate, I'm so happy still just thinking about it :D (It's also interesting to see they chose a different snippet to highlight in the summary, ha! That one seemed to resonate with them more. Can't blame them ;) )

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have! @itskaysno is a wonderful co-pilot <3

What's your all-time favorite ship? Weilan (Guardian), Nick/Renard/Juliette (Grimm), and Jane/Uma (Disney's Descendants). I tend to be a multishipper, but these never fail to get me in the feels :D

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Of my posted WIPs: Hey Baby (I Think I Wanna Marry You), Shipwreck Isles, Your Prince Is In Another Castle, and Triple Duke Coup. Probably Ghost of a Chance, too, unless I get inspired by writing different YGO! fic to pick it up again. I'm 50-50 on whether I'll find motivation to finish Let Your Hearts' Melody Entwine With Mine

Of my unposted WIPs, if I've moved on from the fandom, I'm unlikely to put them up. That's why I posted a deluge of WIPs when I left the ragehappy fandom, because I couldn't see myself picking them up again, but I also regularly regret not e.g. having posted certain Naruto fic way back when I was writing them. Now the quality just doesn't hold up to my current standard, but I'm not going back to edit them, either.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty good at dialogue and fighting scenes! I practiced writing fighting scenes a lot because they used to be one of my weak spots, and now I'm comfy where I'm at skill level wise. I like pitting characters against each other, too, though I still have room for improvement in that area.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Environmental storytelling. Character conflict that lasts longer than a handful of scenes. 15k+ longfic (I'm terribly at keeping myself motivated to write them and then never finish). Slow burn and character/relationship development that takes a while to get to (keeping characters consistent but still having them change is hard to juggle! Especially since I have a tendency to write scenes out of order)

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If it's a language I know, I'm comfortable with it! It needs to be done for effect, though. Unless we're talking prefixes/suffixes and other addresses of respect/relation that just don't translate well (e.g. yifu, shixiong, xiao/lao, -kun, -senpai, etc.) but reveal information about the exact way characters relate to each other.

First fandom you wrote for? Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (back on German fanfic site Animexx). It was a self-insert OC portal fic where she ends up with Seto Kaiba xD I think I named her Leia or similar? I forget.

Favorite fic you've written?

The fic I'm writing for FFFX rn is a serious contender for top spot, if I manage to pull it off the way I imagine it.

I'm still pretty proud of Two Of A Kind (Guardian, Ya Qing/Zhu Hong & Shen Wei) and Safe In Your Hands (Weilan, post-canon with smut). The older a work is, the more I tend to see the flaws in it :') so my answers usually tend to be pretty recent stuff!

@itskaysno @ganglylimbs @elenothar @the-marron @sasamelons @sailorbryant @yilian0203 @treemaidengeek if any of you (or anyone else!) would like to do this, too, feel yourself tagged <3

#tag games #fanfiction #ingno writes #long post

[daz4i]

ok one last suicide post for today and i swear i'll try to be more chill after that. emphasis on try

(fair warning this is very whiny and negative) (also tw for somewhat graphic death stuff)

i am sooooo done with everything. it's nothing new, i just. can't stand being alive for even one more day. getting out of bed was so hard today bc what's even the point. and tomorrow i actually have some shit to do and i'm already exhausted. already have been exhausted for a few days. i hate routines i hate that every week is the same i hate that the only shit that can spice it up is like, medical appointments. i look at my calendar and i see i have nothing to look forward to and nothing going on besides usual shit + medical shit. and i'm tired of those too. and i'm back to being in pain every day so it feels like all the food changes i made were for nothing and I've just been extra suffering for nothing bc i'm still. in fucking. pain.

and like beyond the personal shit i'm also done with bigger stuff too! i'm tired of the war i'm tired of seeing so much suffering in the world i'm tired of seeing loved ones going to funerals of ppl in their 20s. i'm tired of people dismissing this pain bc there are other bigger issues, or because our lives don't matter bc the number of losses is lower (or bc they just fucking hate us and can't see us as individual humans rather than some homogeneous group). i'm tired of seeing ppl i love care less about other lives bc of this, too. i don't want to live here. i hate this country so much. i can't leave, i can't even manage to leave my parents' house. i'm scared to live here. i'm scared to live anywhere else bc everywhere in the world is unsafe for ppl like me. everywhere sucks. everything in the world sucks so much. anything that can be beautiful gets taken away or destroyed. the world is becoming worse every day in every conceivable way.

and there's no point to any of this! there's no point in trying to get better or to make things better!!! BECAUSE the world is going to shit!!! what's the point in me making my mental health better (an already very unlikely task to fulfill) if there's nowhere for me to live. what's the point in working in the only field i can handle if i won't be able to make a living off it. what's the point in trying to build a life of my own if it'll never really be mine anyway, bc i can't fucking do anything, i can't even do basic shit like eating or sleeping like a normal person, i can't walk or stand for too long, i can't be outside for so many reasons, i can't talk to people and i can't handle being alone, i'm always in pain and constantly nauseous no matter what i do or how i try to fix it, nothing about my body works right and especially not my brain that can't fucking do anything right and only keeps working to make everything about me worse. i wish i was brave enough to just stab myself or smth. preferably in the head so i can shut that brain up for once. i wish i was brave enough to jump off the 9th floor. i wish i could drown myself or cut myself till i bleed to death or. i don't know. i just want to die. i can't stand being alive. there is too much bad and the specks of good are so fleeting that they're not worth it, not to mention come with their own bad stuff usually. and all this. all this bad is just too much for me to handle. but it's a natural part of life that i can't avoid (tbf, most people don't staight up suffer to the point of wanting to die from like, eating or going to the bathroom, so it's probably easier for them). i was not meant to be alive i was not built to be alive i wish i died in the who knows how many times i almost did i wish i drowned as a kid i wish i bled to death when i split my head open i wish my heart actually stopped pumping blood when it almost did i wish that truck ran into me and killed me on the spot i wish the fucking terrorists shot me or stabbed me and made sure i was dead i wish those 30 pills would've actually done something. i'm so tired. i hate this. i hate being alive. i hate life itself. i'm done with everything i can't handle it anymore. i wish i wasn't a coward so i could at least try to die again. or someone was willing to kill me. or anything. i just. i can't.

#vent #sorryyyyyyyyyy #this is a bad one. very edgy. don't say i didn't warn you #prayer circle that i'll die in my sleep tonight 🙏🕯 amen

[loveyourlovelysoul]

tw grief tw loss

Maybe I have never really said goodbye to you. Maybe the idea of really having to do that, of really having to let you go, scared me too much. Or maybe I did, despite I never allowed myself to feel it was so. I always searched for you in a shadow, in a shape, in a feeling, in a gesture, in a thought... in a dream too. And sometimes I had found you there, smiling back at me. Even in that dream in which you were more than 100 years old, lol. You, with that kind, pure and gentle heart... life could have never let you live for so long.

I have to thank you. You taught me so much, about love, about me, about others, about life, about living with no regrets, day by day, following your heart. About being cared for. About being loved. And you did all this just by being you. Fully yourself. Funny, curious, extroverted, excited, joyous, impulsive, hyper and hyped about things, welcoming, nice, weird, but also so tender, silently present, cautious, wild, protective, strong. You were so many different souls all in one. The whole package, one would say. All I have ever needed. Especially in a moment in which I needed support and a way out, in which I needed to grow, to feel real love, to learn how to care and to take care. You were there. A look in your eyes, and all the problems were just memories. You were my safe place, and I like to think I was yours too, somehow. You know, I probably was slightly obsessed with you... a bit of a toxic love? Who knows... but sometimes when you learn unconditional love and how strong it may be, it's hard to stay away from it even for just few seconds. You crave more and more. You crave its stability, its warmth, its safe embrace. You need to learn how to deal with it and its power, to not get burned or annihilated. You need to be (or grow) ready for it.

And when it leaves, so suddenly, when it goes away, you feel lost. You feel guilty, you feel powerless. So powerless that it kills you. You let the harsh part of life hit you all at once in your face, and let it all crash you down. You see no point in anything anymore, in experiencing happines or any other positive emotion... "it will end, sooner or later". That's what your mind keeps telling you. Touching, feeling warmth in another one, feels so impossible because you only want the warmth that you know and miss so deeply. The one that was "yours". And if you're not aware, if you don't pay attention, if you don't let this pain get out of you, if you don't ask for help or talk about it, it will start bringing you down and down and down... And once you're that far down, if you haven't taken care of your energy, it's hard to get back up. To do it for real. With your whole self.

I did it wrong, ofc. I didn't know what to do. I only felt empty and alone. I missed hearing your breath even. I isolated myself and got even more isolated as well. Instead of trying to help me, people let me alone. Not just cause I always acted independent or pretended I was fine. People never want to see others cry, it's triggering, "it's bad". But crying is only our own way to purify ourselves. And there's nothing wrong or bad in that. At all. But they just cannot bear with it, so they either pretend to not see you or they ask you to stop. To be strong. When the real strong ones, need to cry their pain out first.

I have always solved stuff alone, but sometimes, we need external help sources, when it's too hard to find support from the inside. I started doing what I could. I started writing, I started focusing on studies, I started doing other things among which taking photos (something I had left aside in my life until then, and I will never know why... but I'm thankful I came back "home"). I still pretended it was okay, it was life, I was fine. But the pain, the void, was fixed inside of me. Rotting, waiting for my weakest moments to take the best of me and ingest me once more, to leave me breatheless and useless. But photography was there, together with music, trying to suggest me how to heal, how to look at things from a different perspective, how to get back up. How to focus on what has been good, on what I learned, on what you gave me... and not on what I lost. You gave me parts of you that will always stay with me, as I gave you parts of me that will probably always be yours and I'll never have back. But that's part of some relationships, those that are created to help you grow the most. Those you enjoy the most too. Those that help you change for good, even after they're ended. I will always miss you probably and how I felt/who I was when I was with you, but this doesn't mean I have to live only partially now. That's not what you taught me. You taught me to live fully, to be me. Entirely. To always be me. And so, I'm trying to find myself again. Exactly that specific myself.

Despite this search is still on, I can say that I am who I am today also thanks to you. Also thanks to how you behaved with me. Also thanks to how I learned to behave with you, and how I keep trying to learn more everyday by being curious and hyped as you were (at least on my best days). You didn't change only me, you kinda changed for good all the people you had gotten in touch with. And if this is not magic, I don't know what it is! I just hope I will make you proud one day. Even if probably you were already proud of me, and happy about me. You really never cared much about results, you only cared about hearts and souls. And that's something I learned from you too. And what I want to keep doing in my life.

I hope you're doing good wherever you are now, and whatever you're doing. I'm sure you're taking good care of and teaching important life lessons to someone else. You'll do an amazing work, that's out of question. And maybe one day we'll meet again, somehow. I hope so. Thank you. Bye.

#tw loss #my story #tw grief #words #tw depressing stuff #tw depression #a letter to a dear one #journaling #closure? #self healing

[cepetriwrites]

The Unexpected Second Life of Bree Tanner - Chapter 12

Read on AO3

Bree POV

The Cullens immediately vetoed the idea of me roadtripping to Nevada to visit my mother’s grave, after I had calmed down from my… not crying, I understood. I was still upset, but truth be told I wasn’t ready to trust myself around humans yet. Truthfully, if I had known Bella could stop me, I don’t think my gratitude would have kept me from killing her. And I didn’t feel a life debt to the rest of the humans. The Cullens didn’t eat people because it was wrong to kill other humans, it made them feel guilty. I don’t know how they managed to feel that way. Sometimes I would feel bad, hearing their screams, but I was so hungry all the time, nothing else mattered but trying to soothe the burning. I don’t even know if I actually liked the taste of blood, or if I liked how it soothed the pain.

A couple days had passed, when the kids were in school I spent most of my time trying to remember my mom. It’s like I had been drunk my whole life, everything felt hazy, Rosalie explained to me after I had a panic attack – at least I think it was, hard to tell when you don’t need to breathe – that if I focused on my memories, they would become clear again, and never fade. So that’s what I had been doing nearly every moment. Shifting through my memories, trying to remember everything, hoping it would help me piece together my mom.

Unfortunately there were a lot of bad memories too, sometimes I had to take breaks and I’d paint with Esme, or watch tv with Emmett, play a family board game. I wondered if it was worth all the pain it took, but my whole life I thought my mom had abandoned me, that my abusive father was the one who loved me, because at least he stayed. Eventually I figured I was just unlovable. But I had been wrong. My mom had cared about me. I had dug up a near-forgotten memories of pancakes in the morning, that we made together. I wanted to remember everything, because if I was wrong about my mom, maybe one day I would look back and realized other people had cared about me too. Despite what my dad used to say.

It did cause migraines, so I had decided to take a break and use the Cullen’s computer. I hadn’t gotten to use one much when I was human, of course the Cullens could afford the best. They kept reassuring me they could afford to fix anything I broke, that everyone had broken a lot of expensive stuff, but the idea of breaking this high tech computer with its Windows 95 system terrified me. I couldn’t bring myself to type on the keyboard so I would use a pencil when no one was looking. It made typing a lot slower.

“You don’t need to do that,” Rosalie said from the hallway, I dropped my pencil and nearly fell out of my chair. How does a vampire sneak up on another vampire?!

“I just… don’t want to break anything.”

Rosalie gave me a smile, “If it makes you feel better, what are you looking up?”

“Um,” I looked at the loading page for cinnamon sticks, I was in to deep to explain that. “just… learning how to use it.”

“Cool, do you want to go for a ride? I’ve upgraded the suspension on my baby and it rides like a dream, no humans.”

“Sure!” Driving in Rosalie’s car sounded fun, an opportunity Human Bree never would’ve gotten. Rose was the mechanic of the family, I had watched her do an oil change once, it felt weird seeing a supermodel covered in oil, but somehow she pulled it off.

Driving with the windows down, and the wind in our hair, I felt like a normal girl, I had bothered to ask how long we’d be out, it’s not like we had a curfew. She kept driving her convertible until we had to stop for gas. “Are we going back now?” I asked as she turned on to the road.

“Nope.” She said, putting her sunglasses back on.

I started to feel nervous, “Where are we going?”

“Nevada.”

“What!” I shouted, “Rosalie I can’t go to Nevada! Dr Carlisle and Esme said no!” I looked at her phone it had buzzed multiple times, when I had asked Rosalie said Emmett was messaging her and she’d answer later, then she had turned it off. “Rose… has Emmett been messaging you?”

“A couple times, but eventually the rest of the family figured out what was going on.”

I nervously gripped my seat belt, “We’re going to get in trouble! They found out! There’s a psychic in the family, why did you try to get away with this?”

“Try? I did, we’re too far away for them to get to us unless they get a flight, and even then, we’ll still reach our destination.”

“How did you even pull this off?”

“Because I’m smart and know things. Like that Alice sees everything, but can’t pay attention to everything, she’s only paying attention to if you cause trouble. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s also hyperfocused on throwing the best wedding and graduation party, and trying to see if the florist will get a cold, which means she’s slacking on watching you. I know that Edward can’t read your mind, and he’s too busy trying to spend every second with his precious girlfriend, and making sure her grades don’t drop because he’s trying to get her to start at one of the many colleges she’s applied too, and the ones he secretly applied to on her behalf. I knew that when Carlisle went to work, & Esme got roped into doing shopping with Alice in Seattle, that Jasper would be kept busy by Emmett and not even think about asking where we’re going. And I knew that I could drive for hours without Alice being the wiser as long as I didn’t think about where I was going.”

Never cross Rosalie Cullen, “What about us? We can’t go in the Sun and I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“That’s why I have the gloves and hats, you’re going to stay in the car. Besides you just ate and I can the news about your mom is making you much more empathetic, you’re not going to go hunting for anyone right now.”

“You were fearless as a human, weren’t you?” Rosalie replied by flashing her dazzlingly white teeth at me.

I didn’t know if Rosalie was right, but she sounded so confident, it was impossible to not believe her, so I turned up the radio and decided to enjoy the ride. Super massive black hole came blaring through, the wind was in my hair, I felt normal.

Almost twenty hours later we arrived at my hometown: Las Vegas, Nevada. The Sun was blazing in the sky, so Rosalie pulled over to a motel, she explained she had booked it in advance, and we hid out in a room with the curtains drawn tight. “This feels so risky,” I said as I relaxed on the spring mattress while Rosalie idly flipped through the tv channels.

Rosalie snorted, “You should ask Alice about her little ‘day trip’ to Italy, sometime. We’re the well-behaved ones of the family compared to her and Edward.”

“Really? But I’m the one who’s always thinking about eating people.”

Rosalie gave a sympathetic look, “Jasper has you beat still, we’ve had to move four times because of him, we try not to mention it. He always spirals into a depression after a slip up.”

The Cullens seemed so perfect to me, it was reassuring to hear they disowned their parents and sometimes accidentally ate a person. It made it easier for me to believe I could belong with them. “Hey Rose, if you brought me with spontaneously, how did you book the motel in advance?" I asked after a bit of silence.

“Oh, I had been planning to come down here, bringing you along was a last minute opportunity.” She didn’t have to explain why she would make a random trip out to the too sunny Las Vegas, I knew she was trying to help me learn more about my mom.

We laid there in comfortable silence for a few more hours, until Rosalie went to front office to attend to “some business”. When she returned, she had a white USPS box in her hands. I sat up, “What is that?”

Rosalie handed the box to me, “It’s um,” this was strange, I had never seen Rosalie nervous before. “It’s your mom.” My mouth hung open, “It’s why I came to Nevada. She didn’t have any next of kin left to claim her, so I had Emmett fake some paperwork and ship the remains to our motel.”

“Remains?”

“She was cremated,” Rosalie explained, “I hope that’s okay. This way you can always bring her with you.”

I slowly pulled out the plastic bag in the box. It was filled with gray dust, ashes, that used to be my mom. “HUMAN REMAINS” was stamped in bold letters, along with her name: Erica Tanner. I stared at the package for a long time, trying to understand how one person could end up being a few pounds of ashes. I ran my thumb over her name. “Hi Mommy.” If I could’ve cried a second time, I would’ve. Rosalie wrapped me in a hug until the sun went down.

The whole drive back, I kept my mother hugged tight to my chest. I was never going to let her go again.

#writing #creative writing #writers on tumblr #ao3 #twilight saga au #twilight au #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twilight #au where bree lives #bree tanner #bella swan #rosalie hale #edward cullen #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 writer

[dustedmagazine]

2022: Patrick Masterson

Photos by Patrick Masterson

I.

We filter in slowly. Given Sleeping Village is a stroll down the block, it’s inevitable I’m on the early side, but the place is already humming with anticipation by the time I walk in. I order a beer and head to an open booth tucked away in back, where I’m greeted one after the other by guys I call friends and co-workers, an agreeable mix of dudes from two generations. We do some bridge-building as they appear, figure out a couple of us have been to the same shows over the decades and not realized it, y’know, the usual time-killing.

As if this table weren’t proof enough, I look up at one point and note who’s loitering around the bar area: Though a modest youthfulish contingent exists, tonight’s a veritable Post-Punk Dads’ Prom, which in March of 2022 indicates one of two things — and since Wet Leg already came through at the beginning of the month, it could only mean we’re here to see Yard Act play the final date of their first U.S. tour.

Evidently, nothing unites Former Cool Guys on a drizzly night out like a little “angular” guitar and a chatty Loiner with a chip on his shoulder. In a year that would turn out to be studded with top-tier post-punk throwbacks, Yard Act are already ahead of the pack at this point with The Overload’s January release. Coming off a string of Rough Trade-endorsed singles, an EP and a full-length establishing James Smith’s wry, politically minded verbosity over the complementary supporting trio of Ryan Needham’s bass, Jay Russell’s drums and Sam Shjipstone’s guitar, the band is confident rolling into their final stateside set. Just a few days before, they’d played Fallon and announced their arrival to whatever audience still cares about late night TV. I have no idea who that is because I haven’t had cable since 2008 and can’t think of anyone else who does, either, but all the same, it’s sold out.

It comes out in varying degrees depending on the song, but the major takeaway from a live Yard Act set is just how fucking funny they are — more so even than on record. Bands that have decent between-song banter are pretty rare in my experience, usually limited to mumbled thanks or obfuscated in-jokes. Not these guys: Arriving to the stage juiced on whatever the rider offered backstage and clearly fixing to close this tour out in a blaze of minor glory, Smith’s amicable observational prodding immediately endears him to the crowd. Between riffs on deep dish, American candy and overly long, underexplained stories from the road, the band kills, rifling through a grab bag of choons from their limited discography. They’re tight when the music’s going and loose when it’s not. The natural rapport between Needham and Smith is evident as the former keeps the latter — ever more glassy-eyed and garrulous as the set carries on — in check. Years put in with the likes of lesser NME fodder like Post War Glamour Girls and Menace Beach make plain this is not their first rodeo. They can handle us — and do, playing everything everyone wants to hear at just the right levels of volume and sneering, smirking aggression. It’s a thing of beauty. No one leaves unhappy.

I walk home thinking I might’ve just seen my favorite show of the year — and were it not for Yves Tumor the very next night, I’d be correct. I have some spring in my step now, too, and not just on account of the season: I’m about to embark on a massive project at work that got dumped on me the month before and I’m dreading it, but that aside, my personal life slowly feels like it’s crystallizing and I’m having a great week, a great month, fuck, I’m having a great year. How many people can say that in 2022? How many people are riding this kind of high right now? How many people can look up at the sky and feel like the stars are aligned, each one exactly in its right place burning back at them?

It’s hard to be cautious when everything feels like it’s slowly making the sense you always thought was there, but I keep trying to talk myself down from the ledge of this good mood anyway. Still: How real it feels, how unyielding the truth of it seems.

II.

It’s not that I wouldn’t have believed you without seeing it for myself, but there’s something both viscerally funny and viscerally stupid witnessing with your own eyes how we really did fuck it up: Iceland is green and Greenland is ice. That’s what’s running in and out of my head on the second leg of a return journey from Helsinki, where I’ve just been for an extended early August weekend because I’m an idiot who’s wholly incapable of taking a nice, normal, relaxing vacation somewhere with beaches and 500-page books you can read in two nights and big meals wearing bad shirts with bogus floral prints. No, my idea of a good time is winging it in a country where I don’t speak a lick of the language — don’t even pretend to understand how declensions work there, frankly — and all the words on the signs are too long and I don’t like seafood so I’m probably never going to be a good fit for the place even though it may as well be Michigan for how it looks and I realize too late my SIM card doesn’t work but Instagram still does for some dumb reason and what the fuck am I paying T-Mobile, an international conglomerate that recently bought out Sprint and changed my bill but not my capability, all this money for every month, anyway? Why did I have to rely on an old high school acquaintance, who’s really my brother’s friend’s brother, to get around via e-scooter in Estonia? Why can’t I just shut up and take in a scenic mountain or the quiet crash of an ocean view like a normal person?

On this plane, it feels less draining to imagine Iceland and Greenland are called opposite things. That I can handle.

Before I boarded back in Finland, where I managed one last European pint at the airport bar that was alarmingly close to my gate, I sent one of the longest text messages I’ve ever written, one I spent practically the whole summer composing. Through visits to new breweries, a jaunt to Indiana to check out the Bob Ross museum and set a Guinness record applying a new coat to the world’s largest ball of paint, discovering I hate driving Teslas, Wisconsin, wherever, there it sat idling on my phone — fully formed coming out of my dreams every morning, unfinished in new and unique ways every night before bed. I’d read the fragments over and over again, sleeping on hidden arcs and previously unconsidered angles, gradually edging toward some kind of conclusion, if not resolution. You can’t know what happens after you push send, but I’d been here before; I’d sent almost this exact same message before, in fact. A hideous Hail Mary, a prayer to God, the best I can offer. What I had the moment I sent it were my words.

The weekend before I was slated to leave for this trip, I took it upon myself to sneak in some internal reviews for the radio station I’ve been volunteering at as long as I’ve been in Chicago, 15 years, Jesus, who knew I’d last that long in any capacity as an adult? There’s no great mystery to it: An enormous Google spreadsheet lists all the records we’ve imported but don’t have a review and FCC profanity notes on. It sounds silly and it’s invisible work to a listener, but these short blurbs help DJs sound more informed on air and guide them on what (and more importantly, what not) to play, a system founded in college radio and still alive in the select places they still allow for this kind of thing.

I chance upon TV Priest’s My Other People on account of some very hasty notes from whomever imported it, throw it on, let it run for a bit. I leave it through “Slideshow,” through “Bury Me in My Shoes,” both of which I find pleasantly catchy on a cursory listen. I leave it on some more as I catch up on the news. I leave it on so long, in fact, that I finish the record and immediately feel the urge to play it again from the top, something I’d been missing in music for large chunks of 2022. I think to myself after a first run through that, hey, this is pretty good; I think halfway through a second spin, listening much closer now, that, hey, this is really good; and by the time I’m finished with it again, I think this is improbably my favorite album of the year. I check to see when they’re touring next and practically burst out laughing when I see they’re in town at Beat Kitchen down the street the very next night. In less than 48 hours, I’ve gone from never having heard of this band before to enthusiastically walking out the door of their first Chicago tour date.

Here’s a theory I turned over in my mind that weekend: TV Priest is the band everyone thinks Idles is. I don’t mean any disrespect to the latter; they’re a fine band and if that’s your thing, good on you and them both. But there’s an element of gravitas to the London quartet — an almost Morrissey-like flair for the dramatic in Charlie Drinkwater’s soaring-and-roaring baritone, Nic Bueth’s leaden bass and Ed Kelland’s drumwork that may as well be actual anchors, and the tones Alex Sprogis takes with his guitars — that to me feels more weathered, more adult, a brusque tenderness shaved off in Idles’ more pitched punk. (Not for nothing, but I also saw four guys separately walk into Beat Kitchen behind me with Idles shirts on.) It’s a perfect blend of Associates and Fugazi, brutal and beautiful post-punk elegance ensuing from the end of an empire. I must’ve played “House of York” 200 times if I played it once in the days following the show and that one didn’t even make an album. Many are working in this vein right now, but hardly anyone did it better in 2022.

I am thinking that as “Sunland” plays again and the shine of the real thing above off the white expanse below blinds me. Who’d have thought I’d end up directly next to a guy who was also meeting his brother from New York City in Helsinki for the weekend? Incredible odds. Life is funny like that sometimes. A weekend fueled by croissants and a free upgrade to an automatic-equipped Volkswagen Passat and sun, always the fucking sun up there, they weren’t kidding about that, either, there were more than a few times during this trip when I thought maybe I just wouldn’t come back. Fuck a SIM card, anyway. It’s all just reformed elements, it’s all just numbers on numbers, it’s all just someone else’s profit, right? It’s all just some pointless collapsing star.

Slumped toward sunlight with my head against the fuselage watching infinite white topography shimmer as it passes — Greenland is ice, I promise you that really is it, there’s nothing else down there — I’m playing TV Priest on a busted old iPod and making mental preparations to be apart for an unknown period of time again, stuck in a familiar loop with the voices in my head rolling over the same old questions years long from different angles, chewing on emotional errata and heated fragments past, phrasing the most basic mysteries in different ways and pointlessly expecting some kind of clarity to fall from the flaring, to rise from the ice and reveal itself. The self-interrogation never stops: When do I finally stop being so stubborn about everything that matters, stop taking the harder road, stop thinking too much and feeling too much more? Why am I like this, why can’t I ever see the answers until I’ve asked the right questions a fraction too late? Why am I too slow to understand the truth when it’s not explained to me? Why do I bother believing in anything?

I shut my eyes for a moment, the skin of my lids carry a familiar heft. Honestly, I’m tired of thinking and I’m ready to leave all of this; I’ve never been more ready, maybe. The plane never shudders skeptically, but still I’m there in my seat alone in a metal tube suspended 30,000-plus feet in the air hurtling through space, through life, at 500 mph wondering: What if this is it, what if this is all there was? What happens back home, back there, that place I don’t love enough to want to return to but can’t seem to leave? What am I going to do when my words finally, inevitably fall short, when the best I offer is rotting roses and garbled prayer and a Hail Mary read all wrong? And what if I settle for what happens after that, what if this isn’t all there was? What if good enough is good enough?

Patrick Masterson

#dusted magazine #yearend 2022 #yard act #tv priest #post-punk #patrick masterson