#but I do know something about crippling self-loathing and anxiety

[zorlok-if]

Hi everybody,

It's been a while. Sorry that I've been gone so long without explanation or communication, I've been in a bad place. For more info check under the cut. Otherwise, hello! I'm alive and so is this project. Progress has been stalled and will continue to be stalled because this is a hobby and I have to focus on priorities. That doesn't mean that it's dead. I still intend to release everything when I can. I appreciate your support and interest.

Hope you're all well! 😊

Albie

(cw: discussion of bad mental health, anxiety, and depression; school shooting mention)

Okay, hello! Welcome to the rest of this post.

Basically, I've been in a bad mental place for a long time and have a lot of issues that I've left unaddressed or festering—most of which tie back to depression, anxiety, fear, and self-loathing.

To start, I wasn't able to graduate this past winter because I fell one class short of my requirements. That really sent me into a spiral and put a strain on my interpersonal relationships.

Then I tried to take that last class this spring but fear related to recent school shootings exacerbated and activated some bad ND habits and I won't be able to complete this course. That means I still won't be able to graduate until I find some online equivalent or professor who will allow me to remain fully remote.

Around the time I found out I wouldn't be graduating, I also got some really cruel anon hate which added onto how I was already feeling and made me hesitant to put anything else out online.

Other things have happened: family stuff, work stuff, health stuff, sociopolitical stuff, etc. (I don't want to go into details with some and won't burden you with the rest). But, essentially, I found myself at a darker place than normal. I withdrew into myself and have been stewing in crippling self-loathing while wearing a convincing smile in my everyday life. (being really honest with this stuff so that if anyone else is going through/experienced something like this they can know they're not alone)

Fortunately, I was able to get away for a bit and spent some time with loved ones I rarely get to see. I've also made a few irl friends recently and feel like I'm coming back out of my shell and starting to heal after traumatic events and relationships. For the first time in a long time, I feel invigorated. I mean, I still feel like stinking trash, but garbage with a will to live and better itself.

As of right now, I'm moving out and finding more work so I can better support myself financially.

If you've read all this going, where's the Zorlok/(other game) update? Here you go: I've been working on Zorlok somewhat, but in the situation/place where I was at, found myself unable to justify dedicating a lot of time to writing and struggling to feel confident about what I was creating when I actually did sit down to do so. This project is in no way dead and I want to work on it and release games more than anything, but I owe it to myself and other people in my life to keep my priorities in check.

This is a hobby and in the past I dedicated time to it when I should've been doing other things. As long as this is a hobby, I can no longer take time away from my priorities to do something I just want to do (no matter how badly I want to do it). So, that's where we're at. I'm continuing to focus on critical things and stop feeling like a jerk for doing that. I know that this might disappoint some people, but that's how things are right now.

If you want to know more about where things are literally at: I'm close to finishing a heavily updated and expanded prologue but episode one has been undergoing changes. I feel pretty shit about myself and that's seeped into my view on what I create which is in turn stalling my ability to make meaningful progress that I don't immediately want to destroy. I've worked on potential Patreon content (including an exclusive game and a Creating Goncharov director's cut), made a Twine template and tutorial, and made progress on updates for Mousetrap and System Processing. I've avoided making changes to the Zorlok page (and my other itch.io pages) these past few months since I don't want people getting their hopes up seeing some sort of "update" from itch.io—only for that update to be "there's no game update yet." That's why those are still out of date, but I'll be fixing them as soon as I can.

So, that's where we are. I wish that I had way more to talk about and release, but that's not been a possibility and I'm just going to be upfront and honest—even if I am disappointed and somewhat afraid and ashamed to admit it. (that's it for the game updates, the rest just gets back to personal)

In general, I've always struggled with shame and fear and those are the main culprits for why I've been radio silent until now. I couldn't find a way to address these topics or talk about them without my odious inner critic getting triggered and shutting me down. However, I'm trying my best to not listen to that asshole because this (*gestures at everything*) must stop.

To be honest, I'm not content with prolonged existence anymore. I want to live—and that's more than I've been able to say for a long time. To be perfectly honest, for the past decade or so I've lived simply because others wanted me around, not because I wanted to be here. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of indifference being my best hope for how I feel about myself. I'm tired of forcing an apathetic soul to drag my flesh through the muck of living. I don't expect what I experience to improve, in fact things will definitely be getting tougher, but I want to change how I experience it. I want to actively live rather than passively slip by. I want to answer questions like "what do you want to do with your life?" and "what are your plans?" with more than vague shrugs and dead-hearted replies meant to brush people off the topic of the future. I want to stop passing through life as a ghost.

I'm still trying to find the motivation, purpose, or courage to genuinely live for myself instead of existing for other people. I still haven't found my "spark"—that properly and blissfully selfish reason to live—but I think wanting to search is a good start.

Anyways, I'll be around more and I'll be more honest with where I am and what's going on. It's my personal mission to deny fear's control over my life and actions. Part of that means allowing myself to be more open with people even if I'm afraid of judgment or negativity.

Excluding a few outliers, you've all been exceptionally kind and encouraging. I'm always overwhelmed and astonished with the support that's been shown to me and my creative projects and I appreciate you all. Thank you so much. Thank you for reading through this. Thank you for caring. You're part of why I'm around.

I hope that you're having a lovely day/night/et cetera and if you aren't, you're not alone ❤️.

I'll see you around. 😊 Thanks again,

Albie

#hi #albie's corner #update #but not a game update #sorry #just a general update #personal

[casualsavant]

20 Questions More

This is a deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks to @TetsujinOtaku88 for the tag. I'm doing this #Supercorp style.

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship / fandom?

I think the Supercorp Fandom is pretty self-perpetuating because the canon needs to be fixed and there's lots of AUs to put them in. Plus there are so many talented people whose art, video edits, and fanfic fuel each other.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

Following the answer above I think the beauty of Supercorp is that it attracts really talented creators. I love reading @searidings, @jazzfordshire's fix-its and canon-adjacent stuff, @lgbtimelords, @coffeeshib, @mycatismyeditor, and @snowydragonscave just to name a few. They have such a deftness of language and an understanding of the characters that it's hard to stop reading!

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

I really love Sam Arias, Jess, and Alex. I wish I could get a better handle on Kelly because DANSEN forever. I also have a soft spot for Eliza and a deliciously evil liking for Lillian.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

Karamel, Lames, Top Lena, Bottom Kara. To each their own. It's just not my thing.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

Carry around a little notebook to scribble ideas, lines, sometimes whole scenes. Figure out a rough outline / structure / plot. Do unnecessary amounts of research. Open doc file. Plunge into dismay and self-doubt. Watch the show. Get frustrated. Open the doc file. Be filled with despair and self-loathing. Get a blast of inspiration and productivity. Cycle through mental instability, writer's block, and actual writing. Get dragged by Kara and Lena to unanticipated places that derails what I intended to do. Sighing and doing what the muses want. The elation of completion. Struggling with summaries and tags. Posting. Crippling anxiety and running away from AO3. Lather, rinse, repeat.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

The elation of completion. The unnecessary research is fun too.

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

Cherry tree mutations and the structure of yakuza organizations in modern Japan.

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

Different tenses in the same document. Also it's and its.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

Describing Kara's post-PZ night terrors and Lena’s fever dreams in Deliverance. Also the action sequence at the end of that story was so difficult.

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

ALL THE TIME.

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Both of them. After I come to my senses and out of a dead faint because I was meeting them at all. And then I would die of sapphication.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

Oh my usual tags are: light angst, tooth-rotting fluff, friends-to-lovers, Lena needs a hug, Kara gets a hug.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Talking with other writers!

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

I usually give it some time before I edit so I can have relatively fresh eyes. Spell checking, punctuation, and grammar suggestions help you catch things but NOTHING beats reading it over yourself.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

Definitely the anxiety!!!

16) How do you define sucess for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

I think it's good to track kudos and I love getting comments. But ultimately I wrote for my enjoyment or for my peace of mind because the idea would not let me go.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character / ship?

Nope but that's not a bad idea. 🤔

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

Wow I'd be thrilled if any of them got art. I am partial to the way @rustingcat draws Sakura blossoms though so maybe Cat for No Wrong Seasons.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

8 total. Finishing "the Arcana", "The Sound of Veracity" (Part 2), Prequel and Smutilogue of "Always With Me, Always With You", Supercorptober 2023 "Art" prompt, SG Mayhem fic, the Telepathy/Empathy fic, the Body Swap fic.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

I posted my first Supercorp story in March 2023 feeling it would be completely lost in this large fandom and having no hope for it. I felt that I was too late. That everything had been done (and done better). I did find readers who liked and some who really loved my work. But mostly I learned to write for myself, which has truly been a gift. Write for yourself. Write what you'd want to see. You'll get better at it over time.

Tagging but no pressure: @fyonahmacnally @nottawriter @chaotic-super @luthordamnvers @fazedlight

#fic writing #supercorp #20 questions #20 questions more

[the-void-and-the-mirror]

Anxiety and Self-worth

I've noticed more and more lately that I'm anxious all the time nowadays. When I saw my doctor a month and a half ago, I was on the precipice of a mental breakdown. And as I stared at myself, wondering why I was always shaking, always screaming, always trying to find some new place to run away...

I think that I used to be something much closer to "normal". Once upon a time, I was only anxious for a little of the day, a quarter of the day, half of the day. I tried antidepressants and antianxiety cocktails trying to just feel some semblance of "normal". Some semblance that my life isn't run by worry. And every time I think I've found the formula, it always seems to change again.

My hints that I'm "too stressed out" always change, too. I had night terrors at first, and when I saw spiders, I knew I was stressed. As soon as I realised that's what it was, the spiders stopped. It changed to snakes. When I grasped it, it changed again. Hallucinations, dissociation, derealisation, intrusive thoughts taken up to the worst levels, until my very mentality threatens to shut down where I stand.

I find it harder to sit with my anxiety, trying to analyse and help it, because my spoons are already spent having been far too stressed out with the things that lead up to it. I don't know how I'm supposed to cope. All because I can't stop worrying. All because I'm afraid the smallest mistake I make will lead to the biggest domino effect of disaster in my life. Every mistake I make cripples me, and I linger on it for hours, days, weeks, maybe even years, afraid to let it happen again. Because if I don't change and become better, won't everyone hate me? I was put on a new medication for my out-of-control anxiety. A small enough dose on a medication that wouldn't numb my emotions like a former antidepressant had, as I had told my doctor about that experience too, and the fear of feeling it again because I wouldn't react to danger when I was numbed. And, for the first time since I could remember in years, I... felt "normal". Or, at least, something like it. I still have feelings, but I'm not hearing that constant internal scream anymore. Not as often, at least.

But that's not to say I haven't had breakthroughs of endless stress. My anxiety is always at that door. Sometimes it just sits at the door, waiting for me to open it. Other times it bangs and slams until it forces itself in, and I have to deal with my thoughts, and understand where that pain is coming from. Sometimes I feel that anxiety creep up and it's gone again to the medication. And I worry about it breaking through, when it has before. Sometimes I go without the patch, because I'm allergic to the glue on it and it makes my skin itchy and scaly. But I can't go long without it. Three days is the record, before my self-loathing starts coming back and I don't know how to deal, except another patch.

Self-loathing is perhaps too strong a term for it. But I am beating myself up over the littlest of things, and my social anxiety weighs in with the rest of it, figuring it should have a turn since the other anxiety does too. And I find it hard to deflect these by treating myself with kindness and understanding, the things I would show another and hope it's enough light to show them the way.

Why don't those words work on me?

I try so hard to value myself. I love me on the outside looking in. I see how much I've grown, how much I try, how much I want to be someone others can look up to and rely on to ease their worries and share their sorrows. And I think I'm beautiful and amazing, seeing how much I fight to keep going to do my best, be it for myself or others. But when I sit with myself, the love from the outside looking in doesn't show. I try to tell myself I'm worthy, that I deserve beautiful things, and love, and the world that wronged me is just that - wrong. But it all feels so hollow; it feels like a lie. I can't bring myself to believe it, and I still don't understand why. Why I can think I do such amazing things, and yet not view myself as worthy.

I love me, but not directly. And I want to love me so much. I want to embrace myself, and hold my true light, believing it will let me soar high above the clouds if I could just feel it even once so I know what to aim for. But it's always just beyond my reach, in a cage I can't seem to unlock. But I will never quit striving for it. I know I deserve to be free.

I don't have an answer to resolve my issues with my self-esteem. But today, that's because I want to show it's okay if you aren't there yet. As long as you're making the effort to reach out and take care of yourself, even just hoping that maybe someday you'll get there and you'll feel worthy of the things you were too scared to give yourself the luxury of. Baby steps matter. I make them too. I've come a long way from the me that truly used to hate myself, from the me that never set boundaries, the me who never chose myself over others. I make those baby steps to take care of me, and choose myself when I need to take a break, no matter how small or big. And even though I haven't figured out my self care to perfection yet, I'm still trying my best.

Someday, I want to love me. Not just from the outside, but from the inside too. And I hope that someday - yesterday, today, tomorrow, or years from now - that you will want to love you too. So try to take care of yourself until then, so the you who loves you can meet you.

#dissociation #derealisation #generalized anxiety disorder #derealization #dissociative episode #hallucinations #anxiety #self worth

[eveninglottie]

after the war

For KB, who requested something about Animorphs, knowing that I have little to no knowledge of it, having maybe read one of the books and only seen an episode or two of show. I did like this post, though, so this is what I wrote about. I tried to read a bit of the wikipedia to try to base this in something relevant but uhhhhh there was a lot in there that looked like you needed prior knowledge or context. So! Here is this ficlet about war and child soldiers and killing your friends? I hope this is at least a little enjoyable, dear, and thank again for helping me out <3

__

In all the ways that count, children make the best soldiers. 

Children understand only black and white morality. They see an enemy and they accept it for what it is; a threat. Something that puts their lives, their friends’ lives, their parents’ lives, in danger. 

And if you give a child enough power to fight back, to kill the thing in the dark that scares them? Of course they’ll use it. Because there’s no reason not to.

Soldiers don’t have time for questions of ‘should’ and ‘after,’ they don’t have time to wonder if the monster they’re killing once saved someone else, or if that monster has friends, has parents. 

Growing up means losing that innocent desire for justice and retribution, for wrong and right. It gets twisted, wrapped up in ideas of who you’re supposed to be and what your actions mean. 

There is no ‘after’ when you’re a kid. There’s now. There’s nothing else. 

And in all the ways that count, soldiers don’t exist outside of one moment of time. A decision. An act. It’s the choice that makes you a soldier, the choice in one fraction of a second to kill someone else to save something you care about. 

Jake spent so long living in that infinitesimal space of choice, of action, he doesn’t understand time anymore. 

Standing on the cliff, staring at the bag that holds what used to be Rachel, he doesn’t understand how he got here. 

He made the call. He told her to attack. Rachel followed the order. She got a soldier’s death. 

In all the ways that count, Jake wonders if she didn’t get dealt the better hand. 

The thought comes like a knife in the ribs, and his lips twitch. A rictus grin. A grimace of pain. 

He doesn’t know when it happened, but at some point he turned into an asshole. 

The private ceremony is short, simple. It fits Rachel, he thinks. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe she would have liked her hero’s farewell better, fanfare and trumpets and speeches. Maybe she would have liked the statue or hated it. He can’t decide. He told her to do what she had to do to win, to kill herself for the cause, and he doesn’t even know how she’d want to be remembered.

It seems like something he should have asked before. Not like death hadn’t formed the bedrock of his life for the past three years. 

They should have talked about this. 

He wants to reach out for Cassie’s hand. He wants to hold something before he cracks, before he throws himself off the cliff and into the ocean. It’s not that he wants to die, he just can’t fathom this stretch of time that doesn’t have an end. The ceremony is too short. If it were longer, maybe he’d have time to figure it out. 

His hand moves. There’s nothing there. 

Cassie shifted at some point, just far enough to form a solid barrier of air between them. He can feel the grief rolling off her in waves, like the tears are rain lashing against his own guilt and fear. 

Jake can’t remember when she shifted. He can’t remember how he got here. He can’t remember… 

Someone says his name and he looks up. Rachel’s mom is gone. It’s just the five of them. Five kids standing on a cliff, their dead friend reduced to ash and kept in a bag. 

A bag. It’s a fucking ziploc bag. 

“You still with us, bud?” Marco asks, his grin dying once Jake meets his eyes.

“Yeah.” His voice doesn’t sound right. It’s too deep. It’s not a child’s voice. He’s sixteen, but he feels too young and far too old. His mind split between the past and the future, untethered from the present moment quickly tumbling out of his hands. “Yeah. I’m good,” he tries again, clearing his throat. 

His voice still sounds wrong. 

Tobias is staring at him, rage and pain and loss shrieking out at him like the hawk he’d never really stopped being.

In a moment of insight that was three years in the making, he understands why Tobias never morphed back long enough to be human again. 

“Where are you going to—” Cassie stumbles over her words, voice getting lost in the soft winds blowing strands of her hair. Her face is tracked with tears. “Where are you going to take her?”

Tobias blinks, turns his head. His expression softens when it moves away from Jake. “Down the coast. Past Big Sur.”

Ax tilts his head in a question. 

Tobias shrugs. “She said she wanted to learn how to surf.”

A noise breaks past Cassie’s lips. Ax pats her softly on the back. 

Jake doesn’t move. His eyes get caught on a piece of rock in the ocean, a single black spur surrounded by white, foaming waves. He can’t look away. 

He has to stay still, to stay frozen. If he moves, he’s going to lose it. 

Silence closes in on all of them as Cassie’s sobs grow quiet. There’s just the crashing of the water, the sound of cars on a highway back near the place they parked. The distant call of a gull sweeping across the clear sky. 

“It was a nice ceremony,” Marco says after what might be an hour or a second. “Really nice. I liked—”

“I’m gonna go before I miss the sunset,” Tobias says, sharp, severe. Takes a step back.

“Wait,” Cassie jerks forward, holding out her hands in a plea,” I need to… Can I just—hold her for a second?”

Tobias swallows thickly as he offers the bag. Cassie takes it, handles it like a priceless jewel, like a faberge egg. Like a baby bird who can’t yet fly. 

She whispers something Jake can’t hear, closes her eyes, and nods at Tobias. “Thanks.”

Tobias doesn’t look at him before he morphs. He jumps into the air and the hawk circles once over them all. He lights gently on Cassie’s arm. Gives her a soft peck on her cheek, and takes the bag in his beak. 

They all watch him fly off over the coast. Jake can’t see the moment he lets Rachel go. He can’t feel it. He doesn’t know. 

He should know, shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t all of this felt more… 

“Come on,” Marco murmurs, stepping back down to the path that leads to their cars. 

Ax follows. 

Jake doesn’t move. 

“Naomi offered to drive me home.” 

He doesn’t turn to look at Cassie where she lingers. 

“I’m going with her.”

He nods.

“Let me know when you…” Cassie trails off, her voice broken. “Don’t stay out here too long.”

The silence steps up beside him as he keeps his eye on the disappearing outline of Tobias and Rachel. The ocean rolls on into infinity, his friends and family and life stand waiting behind him. He’s at the point again, the moment of decision, of choice. Forward. Backward. Future. Past. 

His present is rapidly fading to nothing, and he’ll get swallowed if he doesn’t do something. He feels it in his bones, in this body that doesn’t know what the fuck it is anymore, in the mind that decided to kill one of his closest friends, in that liminal space between soldier and monster. 

The sun sets. The ocean rolls. 

He waits, and wonders if he can wait long enough for someone else to decide for him.

#in which the author tries to write about characters she knows nothing about #but I do know something about crippling self-loathing and anxiety #so. #THANK YOU AGAIN YOU'RE LOVELY I HOPE YOU SEE THIS I DON'T WANT TO USE YOUR REAL NAME JUST IN CASE #charlie writes

[mindthelspace]

I think a lot of my interest in Agnes as a character comes from being a) the ‘pleasure to have in class’ child whose crippling anxiety and depression wasn’t picked up on, and b) the neurodivergent kid who was acutely aware of how much of society didn’t count me as a person. 

A)

There’s this baseline idea often applied to teenagers where ‘not OK’ is conflated with ‘acting out’ (or, to put it more appropriately, with ‘inconveniencing adults’). The kids who need help are the ones who fight and commit crime and hurt themselves and run away. So if you’re a kid who doesn’t make a fuss, if you don’t cause trouble, if you try to please the adults...  if you’re quiet, if you’re considerate, if you’re studious... then clearly you’re fine! Clearly everything’s going to plan for you! 

(Seriously, the number of times I considered deliberately staging a big loud dramatic breakdown just so people would believe me was ridiculous).

There’s also a bit of thing where people conflate ‘not saying very much’ with ‘not thinking very much’, and given how so very quiet Agnes is described as being... well. Well. 

B) 

Something else people equate with ‘not thinking much’- as well as ‘not actually being capable of thought’ and ‘not having normal feelings’- is ‘appearing Other’. And boy, does Agnes appear ‘Other’. Even people who have no idea she’s a supernatural fire-and-torture monster can see that she’s off and avoid her, because she has no clue how to interact with people outside the cult and can’t really ‘pass’ as a regular human for any length of time. People who do know what she is see her primarily as that, and don’t think of her as a person at all. 

Also- and this is 100% projection time- but “wanting to be part of society and do normal people things, but feeling like it’s impossible, and that most of the spaces I want to join will be forever closed off to me because of something I can’t change” was a defining feature of my teenage years. It was horrible and traumatising and fucked me up. The fact that Agnes seems to have been experiencing a version of that says a lot to me about where her head must have been. 

*

Basically, when Arthur and Eugene described what Agnes was like as a child, and then described a ‘tiny fracture of doubt’ coming out of nowhere thanks to a pesky outsider... my instinct was to doubt them, and to wonder what had really been going through her head for all those decades. What her internal life was really like.

My instinct was that it had probably been... a lot. A mess. A tangle of contradictory feelings and wants. Crises of faith upon crises of faith. Anger. Jealousy. Numbness. Self loathing from multiple angles at once. An absolute maelstrom, all carefully hidden from the people who’d never let her forget that her purpose in life was to give them what they wanted.

And that is so fucking interesting I still can’t put it down. 

#Insert 'it could have been that deep' meme here #And the Giorgio Tsoukalos Red String one #TMA #The Magnus Archives #Agnes Montague #It's my blog and I'll write a Ted Talk about niche fandom crap if I wanna #Sorry for the massive asterisk I'm a grandma who can't type

[moemammon]

Alright so my request is angsty-ish. Mc is engaged to someone else when they move for the exchange program and stays faithful during their entire stay, so maybe hcs on how the brothers react to a taken MC who (if they even try to advance) actively avoids romantic situations with them, and maybe a little bonus of them reuniting with their lover smittened.

I tried to request this before but all my asks get eaten so I just wanted to make sure it got through

"What Do You Mean You're Already Taken?!" (Feat the Demon Bros and GN!MC)

(Hell yeah angst time heheHEH >:))

Lucifer

Can you even imagine how Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, reacted when his obvious advances toward you were always awkwardly brushed off? No matter what he tried, no matter how perfectly romantic the situation, he could never coax you into accepting his affections.

And he soon found out why, when you finally admitted that you were taken by another.

He can't remember the last time he's felt pain like this. He'd finally found someone he could be... vulnerable with. Someone he could open himself up to, who wouldn't see him in a different light as a result.

But to know that no matter what, he'll never be able to have you? It's a worse punishment than he could've imagined himself. He can't do anything but accept it, and you'll soon find that his advances come to a complete vault.

He's a little colder to you, but that's only because he's trying to relearn how to feel about your presence. He asks that you give him some time alone, for a few days. He'll be busy in his office in the time being.

Mammon

God, he's crushed. Mammon... was always aiming to be your first everything. Guess someone beat him to the punch before he could do anything to stop it. It takes everything in him not to accuse you of pulling his leg.

But you can't be serious... right? You're saying that no matter what he does or how strongly he feels, he can never have you? He won't get to hold you against him? He'll never be able to kiss you? To pull you under his sheets so you can sleep your worries away? Never be able to tell you just how much he loves you, more than any material possession in this entire world...?

But... why couldn't you just choose him..?

Mammon doesn't get it. He feels like he's always getting the short end of the bargain no matter what he tries. He knew the stakes were high when he started pining for you. You're... YOU! Perfect, amazing, lovable you... who will never be his.

These days he's barely home. You guys are still 'friends', but sometimes you can't tell if he's teasing you or actually being mean. He can't even stand being around you for too long, because his damned heart starts pounding until it hurts. He'd rather gamble the nights away than to have to deal with that.

Levi

Of course you're taken... it's not like he could've expected otherwise. Someone as great as you wouldn't look good standing with a gross otaku...

Jokes aside, Levi's heart has just shattered into a million pieces. You were his one! The one he dreamed about! The one he wanted to be around, despite his crippling social anxiety!

You got him... No, you REALLY got him. He didn't have to put up any walls when he was with you. He knew you liked him for who he was, and that you weren't secretly making fun of him when he wasn't around.

And... you two actually enjoyed one another's company! You shared so many laughs, so many days together, and just when he thought he'd gathered the courage to ask you to be his, you told him that you were taken.

He'll get over it. He's used to being disappointed, after all. Just don't mind him while he spends the next two weeks holed up in his room. If you need something, do you might just writing a note and slipping it under his door? He can't bear to look at his phone, since it's full of pictures of you.

Satan

Satan didn't mean to cause an outburst like that. He never meant to scare you. But when he realized that all this time spent falling deeper, and hopelessly in love with you, was all for naught? He didn't know how to react.

So many new, strange feelings rushed into him at once, until it all exploded in a fit of rage. Was it really anger? Or was it sorrow so strong that it could've been mistaken as such? He couldn't tell, because he's never felt this way before.

His room had been completely destroyed, many precious books lost to the unstoppable force that was his angry release. And when it subsided he was left feeling empty and lost... scared, even.

Would you think differently of him now? Would he think differently of YOU now? Could this... odd, sick, twisted relationship of yours be mended..? He didn't even know if he had the strength to attempt it.

So he isolates himself from you, spending a great deal of time repairing the damage done to his room. And when that's been finished, he's reading like his life depends on it. In the world of books, he can forget about real life entirely. Is it silly for him to imagine that maybe, some day, everything will work out like in a lighthearted fairytale?

Asmo

So you have a partner? Polygamy is fine too! Or so he thought, until you emphasized that you were loyal to your one and only partner. Meaning.. Asmo wasn't invited to the party.

Now, the Avatar of Lust wasn't exactly one who knew rejection. Sure he got a few 'no's here and there, but those little flings meant nothing and had no weight on his heart.

But you? You... were everything he didn't know he needed. Asmo knew he was beautiful and alluring, but you knew there was more to him than that. And you sought to bring those parts of him out into the light! He could only dream of showing his true self to you and you alone.

Asmodeus felt so secure with you, like the mask he'd been wearing for millennia could finally come off. With you, he could just be himself, and he could never tell you just how much that really meant to him. But now his heart aches with a pain he's never felt before, and it hurts so much that he can't help but cry.

His devilgram followers have been seeing him a LOT more lately. So has all of the devildom, really. He's never home anymore, choosing to fill the void with temporary lovers instead. It isn't enough though, and it only makes the pain worse. But in the end, what more can he do? He doesn't understand what love is without you.

Beel

Beel loved you. More than he could understand. More than he could've known.

When the feeling first blossomed within him, he thought it was hunger. Instead, it was a burning desire for you and only you, twisting in his core and setting his heart on fire.

Beel didn't understand it, but he knew that when you were with him, he could breathe a little easier. He could forget about the gnawing hunter that clouded his thoughts. For once, he actually felt free of his sin.

And then, you told him about your significant ofter, and he’d never felt so hungry in his life. The pain was so strong he thought he might collapse from weakness right then and there. It hurt... he hated it...

To everyone's shock, Beel has begun losing his appetite more frequently, most often after catching a glimpse of you. That familiar pain would sprout within him again and make him grimace, and he could no longer find the desire to eat. Maybe he'd just take his meals to his room from now on..?

Belphie

Right... of course. A human like you would be partnered with a human. It was natural that you'd have relationships before your life in the devildom. Anyone would've known that. So... why the hell did it sting so much?

Belphie couldn't sleep. Every moment he closed his eyes, visions of your sweet smile, your wonderful laugh, the way your nose wrinkled when you ate something gross... all of it haunted him. He couldn't get you out of his head no matter what he tried.

And it was so much worse now that he knew you were taken. He wondered if this was a punishment for killing you, like the universe's way of judging him for his misdeeds, and the ages of hatred he held in his heart for humans. Why would fate allow him to be happily partnered to one?

Try as he might, this was one worry he couldn't sleep away. He could never get comfortable. He couldn't close his eyes without thinking about you. He didn't want this. He hated this feeling of self loathing and regret. Belphagor wanted you, more than he’d ever wanted anything.

Maybe... he could convince you to love him? Show you that his love was so, SO much more than what anyone else could offer? He’d remind you of all the times you two shared together. You're not scared, right? Good. That's the last thing he’d want, because he loves you.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #shall we date? obey me! #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #swd obey me #obey me mc #obey me headcanons #obey me shitposts #obey me angst #tag #obey me imagines #obey me writing #shall we date? #yandere #obey me yandere #yandere belphegor #yandere belphie

[6sakusa]

‘next time’ kozume kenma.

a/n : so this is actually based off my past relationship & i kinda wanted to make the reader the villain for once so enjoy <3

wc: 1.8k

warnings : implications of toxic relationship, angst, me not proof reading.

you stared down at your feet, eyes pooling with tears and heart racing as your now ex-boyfriend approached you. the two of you were obviously still madly in love with each other, anyone could tell that part. but what you hadn’t expected was an ocean to separate the two of you soon enough, instead of your own stubbornness.

—

“i don’t love you anymore.” that was a lie, a lie that kenma wasn’t quite sure why he told you. maybe it was because he pretty much loathed you right now, but then again, there was such a fine line between love and hate and he barely knew himself where he stood on the spectrum. all he was aware of was that he was being fuelled by an ugly emotion, jealousy? no it couldn’t be, but then how come he despised the way you would smile at lev? the way you would brush his shoulder when you laughed? the way you offered up your food to him when he said he was hungry? even though the two of you were both inexperienced in your first serious relationship he still expected you to understand that you were his, and he couldn’t stand another moment with you contemplating whether you really belonged to him or not.

“where is this coming from?” you were practically frozen in place, unaware if you had registered his words properly as you could hear your heart leaping out of your chest. you bit down on your lip hoping that this was some kind of sick joke that kuroo had put him up to, you would make sure to get the bastard back later, he would definitely pay, how could he do something so cruel-

“i’ve realised that i barely know you.” you forced yourself to look up at him at his words, clenching your fists to the point where your nails were digging into your own skin at a poor attempt to deflect emotional pain with physical pain. so this wasn’t a joke? you scoffed at the realisation, but despite your cool and put together demeanour you felt cold. this heartbreak was slow, it was unexpected and refused to register itself the way it should. perhaps it was because deep down you knew that his words weren’t true, of course he loved you, he always had. so why were you acting like this? it seemed spite was deeply embedded where there was once love and you certainly wouldn’t provide him with a response that would satisfy him.

he wanted you to beg and you knew it, the reason you knew it is because you had made him do it over and over again. at times your relationship felt like a game of cat and mouse as you would always scurry out of kenma’s grasp the second your relationship was heading in the right direction, and it was all because you liked it when he would trail after you, when he’d apologise even though it made him nervous, when he whispered sweet nothings in your ear just to get you to forgive him even though it made his anxiety peak and his cheeks flaunt a dusty pink colour.

but you weren’t like him, no, and you weren’t gonna concede the same way he had done countless times. because you saw this for what it truly was, a game of tag and kenma had decided to make you it. but you would change that soon enough, even if you had to break your own heart to do it.

pride was a sin, not any sin but one of the seven deadly sins and there was no surprise that the deadliest one of them all was your speciality because you would die to persevere your pride if you had to.

“so these months we spent together.. if you didn’t love me then why did you waste time?” it was a mystery to kenma how you were so well put together right now, wasn’t this the moment where you’d start crying? weren’t you supposed to be reminiscing now? this as your cue to say that you could be better, that you’d do better, that you’d do anything. but no, you did none of that, why did you do none of that? do you not care? did you even love him? he was baffled how you were the one asking the questions right now even though there were a million going through his mind.

“i really liked you at first, i thought we could make this work but, w-we’re too different, we barely know anything about each other, what’s the point being together?” he stumbled on his words and you knew you were in the lead. you definitely had the upper hand here because even though kenma was one of the most relaxed people you’d meet in public, behind doors when it came to you he was an emotional wreck, and right now he was playing right into your hands.

“what don’t we know about each other?” you asked, biting back a smirk, you were almost amused in anticipation of his response. it wasn’t that you didn’t love kenma because you did, but something about inexperienced love lead to this, and if this was the end it’s only fit to make it an entertaining one right? because when you went home you knew that you would be biting back your sobs but for now- while it lasts, you had to win this at any costs.

“look, i can't name specific things but you know what i mean, i know that you understand what i’m saying.” he hated this, he hated standing here trying to pick apart what was wrong between the two of you, but ultimately he was correct, there was a void when it came to you two knowing each other well enough, it wasn’t something that could be voiced but instead felt. when had the two of you spent quality time outside of school? or even gone on dates? had you ever even facetimed each other? he couldn’t recall. but despite all this he loved you with a depth he wasn’t sure you’d ever understand and for the longest time he was willing to wait for you to be comfortable and open up. but instead here he was, throwing the same things back in your face that he claimed to be okay with when you had first voiced your concerns on why you didn’t think the two of you would be compatible.

“y/n i’m sorry but-“ “no, don’t pull that bullshit on me you’re not sorry, don’t even bother ever trying to speak to me again.” you interrupted, of course you had to be the one to say it, there it was again your selfish pride. it was sad- no, tragic how much you based your self-worth around it and even though that worth was crippling away you wouldn’t let it go yet, no, not until you were done here. “don’t be childish about this, come on.”

“did you not hear me before? don’t speak to me ever again.” you scoffed wanting to reinforce the last blow as hard as humanly possible. but even though on the outside you were quite the bitch, no one could ever understand the hurricane of emotional turmoil that was sweeping itself through you right now, because it took everything not to cry right there, not to beg him to stay, not to make empty promises about how you’d do better. what you wish you’d known is that he was going through the exact same thing, because the two of you were too stubborn for your own good.

“fine.” he clenched his jaw but his voice was below a whisper, it wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was never supposed to go like this. the two of you walked away from each other and the further away you got the more it started to hurt as the two of you realised how hopelessly in love you were with one another. it was a slow heartbreak indeed.

—

and that was what had taken you to this point, only a month later finding out that you would be travelling overseas to live with your cousins. that’s when it hit you that the two of you truly wouldn’t get back together despite the constant pining on both ends even after you had told him not to speak to you.

“i hate you.” you muttered through your sobs not even being able to bring yourself to look him in the eye. you cursed yourself for being so stubborn, maybe the two of you would’ve had one more month together, now all you wanted was to go back in time, to be with kenma again battling for his attention against the switch. you smiled sadly at the thought as he stood before you after receiving the news that you’d be leaving soon from none other than lev, it’s a pain how things had turned out.

“why?” he asked, not as emotional as you but god he wanted to be, but he had to be strong right? for you..? he’ll be damned if he lets your last memory with him be tear stained and heartbreak.

“you said you didn’t love me anymore, remember?” you chuckled bitterly thinking back on it, in the moment you wondered why you were so hellbent on turning the whole thing into a game, you hated yourself more than anything right now, even more than you claimed to hate kenma.

“i was lying.” he brought his finger to your tears, wiping your liquid heartbreak before bringing you into his embrace and you swore you could see fireworks. it was almost a movie like moment, you wish you could freeze time and stay like this forever but alas this was your punishment for your pride, for your sins.

“i don’t wanna leave.” you sobbed into his shoulder finally letting the dam break, it was true, you wanted nothing more than to stay here, where he was. maybe it was the way that he stroked your hair while you cried or the way you inhaled his scent but you knew this was home.

“i’m sorry.” you looked up at him at his words, if anything you should be the one apologising, there were so many things you wished you had done differently and so many moments you wanted to share in the future but you knew your time together was coming to an end. “i’m sorry too.” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady as you clinged onto his hoodie.

“you know we’ll see eachother again one day.” he mumbled into your hair and you could’ve just melted right then and there.

with shaky hands and an overbearing sense of love you pulled away with a sad smile that he returned. “i’ll see you next time.”

#haikyuu #anime #kenma imagine #kenma angst #kenma hcs #kenma fluff #hq kenma #kenma smut #kozume kenma #kozume x reader #kozume fluff #kozume x you #kenma x reader #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #kenma #haikyuu angst #haikyuu season 4 #haikyuu setters #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #angst

[bluestarscribbler]

Writing Characters With Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD)

Hi everyone! :) How are you doing? 🥰💕 Today I'll be outlining the main do's and don't's of writing characters with SAD, as well the definition and the main symptoms of SAD.

DISCLAIMER: I am not diagnosed with SAD myself; however, all of the following information had been obtained from different posts and sites of people that have first-hand experience with SAD. I will be linking those at the end of today's post, please feel free to check them out.

What I learned from the intense research I did is that nobody has social anxiety the same. Some people feel like they can't breath. Others tend to laugh in awkward moments. Nobody is the same. No character is exactly alike. You can't get it "right," because it's not an exact science. So don't feel too pressured while writing a character with SAD, there's no "one" way to write them. A helpful approach is to think what about how the SAD fits into the story you want to tell because the topic is really as complicated as any other and you can view it from many different angles and go as deep as you want - depending on what this story you're trying to tell calls for. So rather than trying to get an objective view of this complicated topic, focus on the aspects that are relevant to the story.

What is Social Anxiety Disorder?

AKA Social Phobia, SAD describes an intense fear and avoidance of negative public scrutiny, public embarrassment, humiliation or social interaction. This fear can be specified to particular social situations; such as public speaking, or more typically, is experienced in most/all social interactions. Those suffering from SAD will often attempt to avoid the source of their anxiety; this is particularly problematic and in severe cases can lead to complete social isolation.

Symptoms of SAD:

person paces a lot

very fidgety

stops talking mid sentence...a lot

wrings hands

angered by slightest infractions of others

finds fault in others a lot

hard to breathe when focus/attention is shifted to them

sweating profusely

mumbling

shrinking to hide

lack of eye contact/wandering eyes

painfully shy and withdrawn

picking the nails, picking the skin

always the person in the back of the room or in a corner

gravitating toward the first person they recognise and following them everywhere

headaches

finding ways to avoid certain situations

crying before or after social events

feel dizzy and the entire world becomes very far away

feeling like chest was caving in

assuming that everyone is focusing on them

assuming that people are laughing about them

grind their teeth a lot

bite their knuckles

tap out drum patterns with their feet or fingers

nausea and vomiting

muscle weakness

migraines

heart arrhythmia

increasing nervous tics

Keep in mind that social anxiety exists on a spectrum. Not everyone is paralysed at the smallest conversation, but some are. Others feel mild discomfort at certain types of socialising. It’s all relative.

DO'S:

DO write in a lot of internal dialogue. People with SAD say that most of their anxiety is created by their own internal rumination. So, add a lot of overly self-critical internal dialogue and have them think about trivial things that they may or may not have gotten wrong for hours after the fact. People with SAD also tend to avoid initiating with anyone, instead preferring for them (the other person) to initiate — because then they know they're not inconveniencing them (the other person). If a person with SAD does have to interact with people then they tend to plan and rehearse what they're going to say to them. However, once the social interaction has begun, there will be very little internal monologue. In those situations, the character is very much relying on instinct. After the interaction, if the character feels that they messed up (which is likely; be sure to pick up on even the slightest fumbles or awkward pauses), they should keep thinking about how they're an idiot and they want to never have to talk to another person again, because they know it'll end the same way. If they feel like they did a good job, they should express surprise at how well it went, congratulate themselves, and say that they should maybe do this more often — although they probably won't.

DO let them have observational skills. Part of the anxiety stems from not always knowing how to/being good at socialising. Thus an anxious person will watch others closely for clues to their performance and acceptance. While it doesn’t always tell the person how they are doing, it does teach them a lot about the people around them and how they feel about each other. The person in a group with SAD may actually have a better idea of who in the group are friends, enemies, annoyed with the others, think they are better, have crushes, and so on. Having SAD doesn’t mean that a person doesn’t know social cues, it means that they underestimate their ability to use them. Don’t confuse SAD with autism.

DO make it influence all decisions. This is one you can do as the writer and not include every bit of internal dialogue. Just keep in mind that Every decision an anxious person makes is put through the anxiety filter first. Even if they are doing things by themselves, they have to evaluate the chances of meeting people, meeting people they know, having to talk to people when they are done. Keep that in mind when writing these characters in order to keep their personality consistent. That said, in general you can think of someone with SAD feeling physically, mentally and emotionally uncomfortable and "out of place" in ordinary social situations - they want out of it, looking for the door, excuse to leave, cut the interaction short. There could be a sense of shame, guilt and self-loathing about not being "good enough", or that there is something broken and wrong with them (or society).

DO give them other traits. Make sure you give them other traits that influence their decisions and drive their motivations. Someone can have anxiety and also love adventure, want to save all the stray dogs, want to help orphans, want to be a basketball hero, etc. One of the big problems with SAD is that it interferes with a person’s desires to do and be other things. It doesn’t always win though. And sometimes a person may decide that an awkward encounter or two is worth taking part in some other activity they love. Just remember to keep your characters balanced.

DO let them find each other. SAD is probably more common than you’d think. Not everyone has a crippling case. You can have characters share their anxiety with each other and comfort each other and help each other through tough times. SAD can make a person feel isolated but they don’t have to be, and often aren’t as isolated as they think. That observational skill can also help them find the right people to share their feelings with. Not all socialising is terrifying, it can often be cathartic.

DON'T'S:

DON'T make them hate people. Social anxiety does not mean that the person afflicted doesn’t like people or always craves solitude. One of the harshest aspects of SAD is that a person may want companionship and friends but still have uncontrollable discomfort when faced with making friends or spending time with the friends they already have. This constant tug-of-war between wanting friends and feeling the anxiety around people can cause a lot of internal pain and lead to other emotions and conditions such as depression. Someone with SAD can have friends. Even a lot of friends. But certain factors may influence how a person with SAD chooses friends more than they influence others. The level of contact is different for everyone and there will be some friends who can take up more time while not taking up more energy on the part of the anxious person. However, SAD can get so bad that the person with it is unable to leave the house for days at a time, ghosting on all social engagements, not answering their phone and ignoring all texts; but that still doesn't mean they hate people.

DON'T always make them succeed. If you are writing about a person with SAD and they are forced again and again to go outside their comfort zone, make them fail. Have them go to a meeting and then duck down a side corridor at the last minute and disappear. Have them talk to a person and then freeze up in the middle of a conversation, at a loss for words. The longer they go without knowing what to say the stronger the anxiety gets and the harder it is to think. Or have them execute the socialising brilliantly but then go into the bathroom and cry from the overwhelming sense of effort it took to look normal. And just because they have had a few successes doesn’t mean that they will start succeeding every time. Sometimes, the energy it takes, even when the interaction was a success, means that next time they are reluctant or too exhausted to do it again.

DON'T always give them "tells". Anxious people can be very good at hiding it. In the example above of the person who socialises brilliantly and then cries in the bathroom, no one knows how hard it was. They only saw the brilliant “performance.” Keep that in mind. Not all people uncomfortable with socialising are bumbling awkward goofballs. Sometimes they actually appear very cool and collected.

DON'T suddenly make their anxiety disappear when they're at the end of their character arc. This pisses me off, anxiety is a life-long condition. It cannot be "overcome" easily. However, the person with it can learn to live with it. They can visit a psychiatrist, get pills prescribed or change their lifestyle completely to fit around their SAD. A person with anxiety always thinks about their anxiety. Even when they are happily at home reading a book, sometimes they will think about an upcoming engagement, or wish they made friends like the characters in their book. Every time a person with SAD makes plans they have to run through a list of criteria before nailing anything down. Will they have time before and after to prep for and cool down from the experience? Is it something they have done before and feel comfortable doing? Can they back out at the last minute if they feel too overwhelmed that day? These are just a fraction of the things that go through an anxious person’s mind before committing to plans. Again, this isn’t an absolute, but for many people with SAD it is a defining characteristic of who they are. They don’t talk to a single person, even a spouse sometimes, or make a doctor’s appointment without the anxiety affecting how they feel, think, and behave. It is always there. Always.

That's it for today folks! I hope everyone has an absolutely fantastic day! 😊❤

#social anxiety #mental health #social anxiety disorder #writing tips #writing advice #writing #writblr #my writing #anxiety awareness #anxiety disorder #mental illness

[agusvedder]

--I have in my head on a loop:

"...Gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day."

Ghostfacers - 3x13

On a loop. On a loop. In that haunted house, the victims repeat their deaths on a loop, again and again. Always a circle. And if Corbett was freed by the power of love, that means they not only repeat their deaths, but their feelings are still untouched, they're still there pulling something to keep those ghosts stuck, unable to move on...  Like angels and demons in the empty, they repeat their deaths and their biggest mistakes, their unfinished bussiness. 

Ruby: "Why do you call it Empty? This place is full, full of sorrow and despair playing over and over again, of angels and demons dreaming about their regrets. Forever" (15x13)

Now, in this Ghostfacers episode from Season 3, they used Corbett’s feelings for Ed as a comedic resource at some level. Because in Supernatural s3, Gay=Joke. We know it’s not that way anymore. We know it for a fact. 

Now, I wanna bring some attention to this small piece of dialogue of the Ghostfacers episode.

SAM: Think we were off on this? I mean, that was just a death echo. 

 DEAN: Yeah, but what's it doing here? Did anybody get shot here? 

 SAM: No, not that I could find. 

 SPRUCE: What's a death echo? 

 SAM: Look, we got a problem here. That ghost ain't it. 

 HARRY: Yeah, that's real. Like, that happened. 

 SPRUCE: What's a death echo? 

 DEAN: Echoes are trapped in a loop, okay? They keep replaying how they died over and over and over again, usually in the place where they were ganked. It's about as dangerous as a scary movie. 

 SAM: So maybe the echo's not dangerous, but maybe something else is.

Okay, I know maybe it wasn’t the original intention of the writers for this episode to be a perfect guide to explain Destiel’s last episodes and the ending of Supernatural, but as show as well designed as this, and with so many callbacks, parallels and mirrors, I am doubting if this is not intentional, ‘cause the small piece of dialogue I wrote up there is not the end. 

Finally, the intern Corbett dies. And Harry suddenly has a moment of clarity. 

HARRY:- I...I know how we can get through to him. 

ED: How? 

HARRY: Ed... He had feelings for you. 

ED: Huh? 

HARRY: He wanted you. 

ED: Wa-- wanted me to what? 

HARRY: You know.  And you know what you've got to do. You can do it, Ed. You've always been the brave one. Yes, you can. You make us brave -- Maggie, right? 

MAGGIE: Yeah. Yeah you do. You totally do. 

HARRY: Ed...You got to go be gay for that poor, dead intern. You got to send him into the light."

Out of the darkness, into the light. 

"ED: Corbett, look. Hey, it's just Ed, buddy. It's just me. Hey, hey, Corbett, listen to me. Listen to me. I -- we... Okay. You meant... Corbett, you meant a lot to the team. You meant... You meant a lot to  me. You know, never back down...Never say a bad word, okay? I remember that, Corbett. I-I remember that. I remember because I love you, Corbett. I really, truly love you. Do you remember that? do you?"

Ed says the magic words to wake Corbett up from that loop of suffering, death and regret. Words that remind me to other words.

Buddy.  We needed you back. I don't get words wrong. We need you. I need you. 

Goodbye Stranger. When Dean was honest about his own feelings, Cas was free.

Also notice how Harry used “He wanted you” instead of, I don’t know, “he liked you” or something. This is a theme that’s been repeating for seasons with Dean specifically, the Want vs Need, the Plural vs Singular in regards to Cas. The whole purgatory arc, the Michael!Dean arc with his famous, seemingly random question “What do you want?” in the beginning of season 14. Surprise surprise, it’s not random, and we know it. 

(Tiny detail that maybe is not that interesting but I got it on my head and I gotta write it: In this season, episode 4, we see Chuck being a writer again, writing the last Winchester book. Chuck’s pseudonym in season 5 was Carver Edlund. This season we already had that callback to Carver, engraved on stone on the crypt where Rowena chooses to die. Where is our callback to Edlund? .... Well. Edlund wrote Ghostfacers in s3). 

Also, this small thing answer my own question from 15x02 when I noticed a visual parallel between Cas and the ghosts from hell.

Okay, so my speculation is that this specific dialogue will repeat some time in the future when SOME human we know rescue SOME dead angel we know and love. It. Fits. 

To Conclude, and in the Ghostfacer’s words:

ED: We know this much: that every day, including today, is a new beginning. We learned more than we can say in the brutal feat of the Morton House.

HARRY: The Ghostfacers were forced to face something far more scary than ghosts. They were forced to face themselves.

ED: War changes Man.

HARRY: And Maggie.

ED: War changes man. And one woman... You know Corbett, we just... ah gosh, we just like to think that you're out there, watching over us.

HARRY: As far as we're concerned, you're not an intern anymore. You have more than earned full Ghostfacer status. Plus, it would be cool to have a ghost on the team.

ED: Yeah. Heh heh. And here we were thinking that, you know, we were teaching you and all this time you were teaching us, about heart, about dedication, and about how gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day. Thank you, Alan J. Corbett.

(I know this is a mix of stuff, I’m not sorry though.)

-------

OKAY, so I’m not gonna detail phrase by phrase why it feels relevant, because it’s pretty evident, so I trust you guys to read it and share with me what you feel about the end, and how do you think this relates. But this is... ugh ñksndfñ.Its an amazing example on how FAR this show has gotten, how it keep circling back to the start over and over and over, and past canon but evidently evolved as an inspiration for future episodes. Certainly the “Gay” resource stopped being a joke a LONG time ago. 

Side note: thank you crippling depression, anxiety and self loathing for finally allow me to post this meta. 

#Supernatural s15 #Ghostfacers #SPN 3X13 #SPN SPEC #Spn s15 spec #Castiel #the empty #Destiel meta

[shingia]

hihi hello, can you do akaashi with angst prompt 14 please💕🤲 @almalckd i read thru all the prompts and all i can say is that i’ll cry reading a few of them🤠

❝𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 - 𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞

a/n : if you have anxiety then please keep in mind that what’s written in this fic are not just words i’ve invented for the story’s sake, i consider them to be important things to keep in mind. so from the bottom of my heart : please listen to what akaashi says below <33 (we all know he’s the voice of reason)

prompt 14 : “there used to be such a pretty light in your eyes”

⤷ timeskip! akaashi x reader | angst, comfort ending | word count : 2.4k

(for all my burnt out gifted kids out there <3)

nights had always been the worst. in the darkness of the bedroom, the sobs you were so desperately holding in tore your throat apart every second a little bit more. and the pain did not not stop until you finally allowed yourself to let a sob out, just one before aggressively covering your mouth with a shaky hand. it would have been so much easier to let all this bottled-up sorrow pour out of your body freely. to let the familiar coldness of your tears stream down your cheeks until they let your skin dry and itchy.

but there was a reason why you were forcing sobs down your throat. And that reason was sound asleep next to you. 

akaashi’s peaceful features probably offered an intriguing contract with your anxiety-stricken face. every twenty minutes or so, you felt his arm reach for your side of the bed, eager to find your familiar warmth again, the one he had embraced so tenderly before going to sleep. but you wouldn’t let him, because when your body was not shaken by a series of sobs, your nervous quivering took over ; and either way, you’d wake him up. which was the last thing you wanted.

you turned around in bed for the hundredth time that night, the feeling of your drenched pillow against your cheek like a mocking reminder you of how miserable you were feeling.

« the pride of the family », « the prodigy »… you loathed these ridiculous nicknames. because the pride of the family had fallen off its pedestal years ago. and it had been a long time since the prodigy had not fallen asleep with dry eyes.

you were destined to achieve great things, at least that was what everyone had always told you, and expected you to do. drawing, painting, playing the piano, dancing : you were the best at everything... until you weren’t. your body simply could not take it anymore, and your mind had given up a long time ago.

failing at everything you used to be good at was the first crack. and it deepened at the mere thought of how much of a disappointment you were becoming. the wheels were in motion, full speed towards the abyss.

the second crack appeared when you started med school in kyoto last year. it was the last thing you wanted to do with your life, but you were considered clever enough to succeed. and who wouldn’t want a doctor in the family, right ? right...

« are you sure about that ? » akaashi had asked you the day before you moved.

he had been the only one to notice that something was off. and you knew he would have held you back if you had just been honest about the crippling fear and anxiety that was keeping you up at night. but you didn’t. and you stayed there for almost a year before dropping out.

your parents had welcomed you at the tokyo station. they were smiling when you got off the train, but a voice kept hammering your head you that all you represented now was a waste of talent, time and money. the golden child who had boarded the train had nothing to do with the one who got off. little did they know that the shell you had built around you your whole life had very recently been smashed to pieces.

however, disappointing your family and yourself was one thing, but disappointing the one and only person whose support had never faltered ? that was beyond you. so you thought it was better to try and take some time away from akaashi, because the last thing you wanted was for him to see you for who you were now. he had fallen in love with your talented self, the cheerful bundle of joy that he met on the first day of high school. And that was not yourself anymore.

but letting go did not seem to be in akaashi keiji’s vocabulary. and thank god it wasn’t. he came to visit you the day after you came back. you had spent the entire afternoon bawling your eyes out on your bed. the same bed that you used to happily jump on as a kid, medals shining around your neck. his firm knock on the door pulled your mind away from your misery for a short instant.

« please, open the door » akaashi asked as softly as he could, « i need to see your face »

his voice felt like home, much more than your parent’s house, and they seemed to be the first thing that calmed the racing and painful thoughts which had been invading your head mercilessly for the past weeks.

hand shaking, you turned the keys in the lock before pulling the doorknob down slowly. akaashi did not even have time to look at your swollen eyes and wet cheeks that his arms were already wrapped around your quivering figure. he almost leaped on you like he was afraid you might disappear in a cloud of smoke before his skin could touch yours. 

it had been a year since someone had held you like that. and so you begged him to take you to his apartment, to take you away from between these walls that made you feel like like you didn’t belong.

and there you were, spending your first night with akaashi after more than a year apart, and you were spending it it sobbing in his sheets. how long will it take him to realize he doesn’t love me anymore ? you kept asking yourself. just thinking about this made you break out in cold sweat. you felt like you were about to throw up.

as silently as you could, you got out of bed and walked to his kitchen, shivering at the contact between the cold tiling and your bare feet. you put him in an uncomfortable position, the voice in your head kept whispering. you forced him to accept you here, now he’s stuck with a burden.

shaking the thought away, you poured yourself a glass of water that you drank in one go. you slammed in down on the sink, out of breath, and closed your eyes to take a deep breath in.

but you opened them back as soon as you felt the feeling of a soft blanket slowly wrapping around your shoulders. in the reflection of the window, you could not guess his face, but you could recognize akaashi’s touch better than anything.

« i’m sorry » he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. « i shouldn’t have let you go »

you turned around slowly, his hands now resting on your lower back, and hugged him back hesitantly, like he was made of glass. ever so gently, he grabbed your hand in his and led you back to the bedroom where he tucked you in securely before laying next to you, never breaking the contact between your skin and his

you still hadn’t uttered a single sound, yet there were a thousand words you wanted to say, and they were all battling in your mind. his slender fingers began to brush your hair absentmindedly, and you felt his chest rise a few times before he spoke again :

« there used to be such a pretty light in your eyes »

his voice was different. imbued with melancholy. it would have been more than enough to make you cry, yet for some obscure reason, your eyes stayed completely dry and you didn’t dare to breathe until he talked again. but he didn’t. akaashi wanted to hear your answer, and he was ready to wait for it.

« i’m exhausted » you said hoarsely « i hate that i let myself fall apart, i should get up on my feet like I always did. but i’m so fucking terrified of failing again. it’s like i put a sword over my own head, and next time i fail, i just know it’ll fall and tear me in half »

as you spoke, your muscles began tensing up once again. You reached for Akaashi’s hand desperately fast and held it in yours as tight as you could just to find the courage of talking again :

« what if i’m not the one you fell in love with anymore ? just look at you, you’re successful, you’re thriving and the only thing i do is to stain your life with my worries. i don’t even expect you to understand, i know they’re stupid... »

these words were barely out of your mouth that he immediately lifted your chin with index and looked into your eyes with the most serious face.

« i understand. everything. because i’m terrified of fucking up, too » he said bluntly « you think I’ve never cried myself to sleep ? everyone has, and it’s perfectly normal, as long as you promise yourself to get back up again. little by little, day by day, because the only thing that matters is right now. and right now you’re safe with me. »

and there they were. the tears. you knew he had obviously seen them as soon as they had prickled the corner of your eyes, but out of habit, you still buried your head in his chest, just because you knew it would hurt him to see you cry.

but Akaashi was having none of that and he kept his finger below your chin to lift it up again.

« you’re hiding yourself because you’re so desperately trying not to worry anyone. but not being alright is fine, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. especially not with me » he told you with kindest eyes you had ever seen. now listen closely : all your thoughts are not facts. you matter, you always have and you always will. and i’ll keep telling you that until you start to believe it. »

« but aren’t you disappointed ? i was holding all the cards but i still fucked it up. and i can’t stop beating myself up over the fact that you wasted time and energy on me »

his thumb carefully wiped the tear that was about to meet your upper lip while the rest of his fingers kept gently stroking the side of your face. you craved his touch and found yourself praying that he’d never let go of you.

« i fell in love with you for what you are, and not what you do. i fell in love with how you’re always bringing the best out of people, starting with me » he answered before placing a kiss on your forehead.

he pulled you closer to his chest once again, and you heard his soothing heartbeat right against your ear.

« remember when all my volleyball team used to make fun of me because i spent hours talking about you ? » he asked, his fingers finding their way back to your hair, « that’s because I wanted everyone to know how great you are. and you know what would make me really happy ? that you’d know it too »

gripping his t-shirt in the palm of your hand, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, letting his comforting smell overwhelm your senses.

« i wish i knew it too » you sighed, realizing that the tears had stopped. « maybe it’s weird but... i feel like a piece of coal that people desperately wanted to turn into diamond. but nobody ever talks about coal that doesn’t do well under pressure. what do you do with it ? »

as you spoke, your voice became lower and lower until it completely faded in the night. akaashi’s heartbeat sounded farther away the more your thoughts started to wander. for the first time in a long time, the goosebumps on your arms had disappeared. lying in the soft silence of his love, it felt safe to surrender to sleep.

the next day, you woke up alone, still wrapped in the warm sheets that still carried the faint smell of akaashi’s perfume. the blinds were closed but you only had to follow the light that came from the kitchen to find your boyfriend sat at the table, his eyes fixed on the lines of the book opened in front of him.

« good morning » you told him with a faint smile.

« good morning. remember what you said last night ? » he asked you out of the blue, sounding like he had been waiting to ask you this for a few hours now. « about what people did with coal ? »

you raised an eyebrow, confused yet melting in front of the obvious excitement he was trying to conceal. you nodded your head yes, you had vague memories of asking him that before drifting off. he stood up and walked to the counter, you watched him grab a piece of paper that he put on the table, right in front of you.

it was a sketch. and it was hard not to recognize that the intersecting black lines looked very much like you, sound asleep. your chin started trembling as your eyes lingered on how every stroke of the pen fell into place to depict your peaceful features. you knew it had been more than a year since you had such an expression on your face.

when your gaze fell again on akaashi, he was getting something out of his hoodie’s pocket, which you recognized to be a jet black charcoal pencil - right before noticing that the tip of his fingers were, indeed, stained with black.

« i didn’t have coal, but I thought charcoal was close enough » he told you with a shy smile.

you bit your lower lip to prevent your eyes from getting teary, because right now you didn’t want anything to blur your vision, you wanted to be able to see every inch of his face before giving him the tightest hug you had ever given. his voice reached your ear :

« hey, i think I just saw the pretty light »

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuuxreader #akaashi #akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi #haikyuu fluff #akashi comfort #akaashi angst #akaashi one shot

[marmolady]

I’m struggling. A while back, I lost a friendship. It was my fault; I badly misjudged how to handle my friend’s triggers and my well-meaning actions hurt them. There’s been no contact since.

For ages, one of my biggest sources of anxiety is feeling like I’m going to fuck up and hurt people I care about because I feel socially inept. I’ve been told it’s something I’ve built up in my head, but with what’s happened, my anxieties are validated tenfold. The self-loathing is crippling. I’m terrified of getting close to anyone bar my wife, and I am so, so lonely. All this happened at a time when I was already isolated; we moved a state away from everyone… my friends, my family, and my once-close relationship with my mother has been wrecked by her extreme anti-vax views. I am so lonely.

I miss my friend. For months, they were this massive bright spot in my life, and I cared about them so much. I still do. I miss my friend. I keep thinking I’m over it, then it hits me again like a train. My mental health has gone to shit. I feel so much guilt, and then I feel let down and then the guilt multiplies because I know it’s my fault. I wish I wasn’t me. I don’t know what to do to feel okay again, to stop this eating me up. I was only trying to do something nice for someone I cared about, but I fucked up and did it all wrong. I feel so fucking clueless. I don’t know how to trust myself ever again.

#personal

[techmomma]

I feel very sad that little me was so crippled with anxiety and people were so mean to her for being weird. I was just petrified of ever standing out, ever being called on, ever being in group projects because, while I know a lot of it was me self-projecting my own self-loathing and embarassment, like. Y’know, I was the weird kid. Not weird enough to be Weird but weird enough that the other kids knew getting in a group with me would suck, because I was too terrified to ever talk about things I loved, or reveal anything about my shitty homelife, and not socially aware enough to really mesh with the other kids. And I’m talking like elementary school all the way up to graduation. Talking abouts things I liked got me made fun of (this was back when girls having video game systems was NOT very cool), talking about things I liked with my parents got me either made fun of, or mom would so desperately try to force me out of my shell that revealing what I liked became this nightmare of being forced to do things I didn’t want to do or didn’t feel ready to do. “Oh, Steph liked volleyball, we’ll sign her up for a wholeass volleyball team, oh Steph likes dance, we’ll sign her up for this weird jazz dance class club at school that will eventually perform in front of everyone on a stage; y’know, that thing that makes Steph completely shut down or throw up in panic.”

Letting people know the things I liked and was interested in became such a minefield between my friends and family that it terrified me. Almost no one saw ANY drawings of mine till I was like 15, and it was only like one or two people. I got to use the anonymity of the internet to show more people but it was only ever a handful. Because I was so terrified, I never reached out toward those things I liked, any project that involved a whisper of personal information made me dissociate and avoid the project so much that I’d either fail it ir throw in something generic and sub-par just so that no one asked questions.

I still have that fear every time I show anyone my art irl. I know I do good art. I know I have fun ideas. But that fear of watching someone’s face turn to confusion and cringing as they look at my work still sits like this little knot in my stomach. Baby brain is still aftaid of the students who’d yank her chain and say backhanded comments or avoid me or tell me they’d invite me, for sure, and never would.

I had a handful of friends throughout school. Only a couple of those ever invited me to their birthday party. Nobody evdr took me to high school parties as a plus one, or someone to tag along, or because they thought I’d have fun. Friends kind if came and went because ultimately they’d get tired of my awkward ass and give up on me, and I’d be too scared to reach out, and then the friendship would die.

Every day of school, from elementary to graduation, was just this... slog of being terrified, being terrified of being made fun of, being terrified of the other kids thinking I was too weird to hang out with, being terrified to share anything about myself because it’d open too many doors I didn’t want to open about my family (and had been threatened to never reveal), being so terrified to be any part of myself. Day in and day out, what new panic and terror would Steph go through today? What new thing would they find to humilate Steph about? How would her parents try to yank her out into the spotlight “for her own good” like this would somehow cure the deeper fears underneath it of being weird and ugly and friendless and being tricked, again, by people who thought it’d be hilarious to make fun of the weird girl who doesn’t talk and never lets anyone see her doodles that are the only thing that get her through her day sometimes.

I was so so afraid to be me, in any kind of way, that I had to start exploring that only after I graduated. I’m still doing a lot of exploring. I wish little Steph had one friend or one teacher or one safe place, just once, to be herself; a friend who was kind and understanding. I’ve always felt so... stunted, for being so viscerally afraid of revealing anything about myself when I was younger. Like, where would I be, if I’d had a little more bravery? If I’d reached out a little more, been just a little more vulnerable? Gone to those hangouts I was so so scared of going to, gone to hang out at the weed smoking hill or whatever.

I just feel so bad that little me was so mortally afraid of showing herself that she couldn’t until well into her twenties. That is a horrible, exhausting life to lead. You deserved better, little me. A better family and better friends.

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

Tips for when you're feeling like less of a witch

Now I could just say don't. But my depressed ass knows a fuckton of y'all have some crippling anxiety or self doubt or any sort of that kind of issue so I'm not gonna be that cutesy disney fairy godmother singing you a song of fairy tale bullshit like "it's in you the entire time".

Let's be real. No one needs that. This isn’t Kung Fu Panda with that blank ass dragon scroll. So here are some tips that I do that make me feel like less of a failure that'll hopefully help you in no particular order.

Do some goofy Magic Shit: 

 Even if you don't mean it. Even if it's a deadpan sarcastic Kamehameha. You're acknowledging right then and there that there are possible doubts about yourself and in a way, you’re releasing them. Its okay to have doubts about ourselves and our capabilities. We've been battling harsh reality day after day and sometimes life makes it seem like magic isn't real for us. Like we are making it up. And I personally find the more I try to fight head on "no magic is real I swear" the harder it is to believe it at times. Just let yourself be goofy about it. I have my selenite wand and I just wave it around lazily at times. For some reason, it just...helps.

So do it one time with feeling ↓

Self affirmation:

Tell yourself you're being the best you can be right now. Tell yourself you're going to get better and that this is only a bump in the road of your journey. Because the more you speak it the more you're going to feel it's true. Tell your depression and self loathing to shut the fuck up for a moment and acknowledge the will you have to get better. Give yourself credit for trying despite the heavy weight you've bore yourself. It's not easy being alive and we need to acknowledge and appreciate that more. Self affirm and give yourself some fucking credit for once.

Take a day or few off:

You do not have to witch it up every diddly damn day. Hell, there are days when I flat out scream witchcraft like judge frollo from hunchback and then my brain is like you dumb bitch you are a witch. Your life is not your craft okay. Your craft is a part of you, sure. But you got other shit to do. Until we can pop out a sammich by snapping our fingers and shit, witchcraft does not have to rule your life. Lay down and gorge on cheesy puffs if you just need to have a small slump of rest. Play some animal crossing. Just....relax. Cause you might just be burnt out from everything in life and you might not even know it.

Watch/read some witchy shows/books:

No not the instructional kind. I mean unless you want to. But a little caos or charmed can't hurt right now. Find a witch to relate to and just let someone else have witch drama for a change.

Talk to your diety (should you be working with one) or a trusted friend:

Hell, vent. They want what's best for you anyway. And just airing out how you feel is cathartic in itself. And for dieties it shows you trust them and that can strengthen your bond.

But most importantly, understand you don't have to go through these feelings alone especially if you don't want to.

Write, art, run, whatever:

Put your focus on something else for a moment. Get inspiration a different way. Draw a butterfly, write down angst, take a walk. Take a bath. Who cares. Just...do and be. Cause sometimes that's all you can do right now and that's okay.

Look back on your witchy things in the past or old BOS (if you have one):

Sometimes a little bit of nostalgia is good. If you cringe it's cause you're better now and you should acknowledge your growth. If it's s proud moment, don't feel sad because you can feel that pride again and you have the capability to be even better than that.

Just Do It!

Doesn't have to be spells or a full ritual. Take a back floaty approach to it. Had a bad day? Making food or drink? Stir counterclockwise to tell all your bad feelings to fuck off. Meditate and clear as much head space as you can. Look up some easy little glamour spells here and there. Enchant something little. Achieve little things and just...do it. Sometimes it just takes that slow build up. And that's okay.

Anyhoop, I hope this helps at least one of ya's. You are good enough. You are witch enough. You are you enough. And sometimes it's hard to believe that. But it's true. Take care of yourselves.

#witches #witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #advice #is it good advice? #That's up to you #everything will be okay #You are witchy enoough #I promise

[fridayfirefly]

Lost and Found [Part Ten]

Masterlist | Ao3

Marinette climbed up the ladder into her bedroom, where her friends waited. She carried in her hands a tray of snickerdoodles, chocolate chip cookies, and macaroons, leftovers from the bakery that had been made fresh that morning.

"Snickerdoodles!" Chloé cheered, snatching two cookies off the tray before Marinette had even made it the whole way up the ladder. Chloé always took two of everything, one for herself and one for her Soulmate, who had woven his way back into Chloé's good graces, despite their rocky beginnings.

Marinette finished the climb and shut the trapdoor behind her, not wanting to wake her parents. Given the time difference between Paris and Gotham, Marinette, Chloé, and Nino were trying to adjust early, staying awake until 4 AM and sleeping in until 1 in the afternoon. It was an uncomfortable change, but a necessary one if Marinette, Chloé, and Nino wanted to arrive in Gotham without crippling jetlag.

"It's a shame that you four won't get to try any cookies," Marinette said to the screen of her laptop. Adrien, Kim, Alix, and Kagami were all attending the sleepover via video chat. Kim, Alix, and Kagami were all in Japan, as they were spending the summer vacation getting to know each other. Adrien was in New York City for Fashion Week, though he would meet up with his friends again after the wedding when he came to Gotham to join them in visiting their Soulmates.

"That's okay," said Alix. "Kagami will get to try your fantastic cookies when she comes back to Paris with us."

The trio of Soulmates had decided that they would spend three weeks in Japan, then spend three weeks in Paris, allowing Kagami the opportunity to see Alix and Kim's hometown.

"I'll make something extra-special for you, Kagami," promised Marinette. Marinette couldn't wait to meet Kagami in person, though the two already became friends over video chat.

"Thank you, Marinette."

Marinette smiled brightly at her new friend, then turned to her two friends who were attending the sleepover in person. Chloé had the trapdoor open and was tossing cookies downstairs to be lost. Nino was on his phone, the sort of on his face that he reserved for Jon and Jon only. "Nino, are you going to try anything?"

Nino glanced up from his phone. "Oh, I wasn't paying attention." He grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, taking a bite as he returned to his phone.

"Too busy texting Jon to spend time with us?" Marinette teased.

Nino flushed, setting his phone down. "Sorry, we're both excited about the trip."

"You don't need to apologize. I'm excited, too." The plane to Gotham was leaving at midnight, only twenty-four hours away, and Marinette, Nino, and Chloé would all be on it. In less than two days, all teens would get to meet their Soulmates for the first time.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you finally meet Damian?" Nino asked.

Marinette shrugged. "I don't know. Should I know? Should I be planning for our meeting, or just do whatever feels natural? What if he sees me and I'm not what he expected? What if he's disappointed? What if-"

Chloé pressed her hand over Marinette's mouth, stopping Marinette's anxious babbling in its tracks. "Stop worrying so much. You aren't meeting a stranger, you're meeting your Soulmate, who you talk to literally all the time. Just act natural."

"But-"

"Don't overthink it," Chloé advised.

Marinette nodded. Chloé always gave good advice. "You're right. I shouldn't be overthinking our first meeting. Damian and I already know each other. We're already friends."

"Friends," Chloé hands moved to finger quote the word. "You two talk constantly. How are you not dating yet?"

With a shrug, Marinette answered. "We've never really talked about it. He's never brought it up, so I assume that he's not interested. We're still pretty young, and it's not uncommon to wait until you're both older to start dating. He probably wants to date other people for a while before he goes into a serious relationship."

Over the camera, Adrien narrowed his eyes in skepticism. "But is that what you want?" asked Adrien. It was less of a question and more of a statement, as everyone already knew exactly how Marinette felt about Damian.

Marinette stared down at her hands. "No," she said quietly, "I want to have a relationship with Damian, I really do. I just don't want him to feel stifled. If he wants to date other people, then I'll accept it. I don't want him to get into a relationship with me just because he feels like he has to. I don't want him to resent me."

"Unless Damian is a fool, he will not resent you for speaking your mind," Kagami advised.

"Kagami is right," said Chloé. "You have to tell him what you want when you want it. Communication is key for relationships."

Marinette's anxiety over messing up her relationship with Damian was too great to be overcome by simple logic. While she knew that Chloé's advice was correct, she couldn't bring herself to accept it. "He's never shown any sign that he wants to date me. I don't want to spring it on him out of the blue."

"He's bringing you to his brother's wedding as his date. How is that not clear enough for you?"

"He invited me as his Soulmate, not as his date. I mean, J.T. did the same thing for you, Chloé."

"The reason J.T. invited me as his Soulmate rather than as his date is that we both agreed that we weren't going to attempt a relationship until I turn 18, next September. Our situations are radically different, Marinette."

"How about this," suggested Nino. "We'll flip a coin. If it lands heads up, you have to make the first move on Damian. If it lands heads down, you can wait for Damian to make the first move, and none of us will bother you about it until after our trip to Gotham. Does that sound fair?"

Marinette nodded, "That sounds fair."

Nino pulled a coin out of his pocket and tossed it in the air. Marinette willed her miraculous luck to help her out in that moment. The coin landed.

"Heads up." Chloé's smile was so smug it was almost painful to look at. "And I know the perfect way for you to show him how you feel."

Marinette knew better than to try and argue with Chloé. "What's your idea."

"You walk right up to him and without saying anything, just kiss him."

"No," Marinette spluttered. "I can't just walk up to him and kiss him without saying anything first."

"Fine," Chloé conceded. "You walk right up to him, tell him that you've been in love with him for years and then you kiss him. The kissing is non-negotiable."

"No fair. You aren't making Nino kiss Jon," complained Marinette.

"Chloé doesn't have to worry about Jon and I kissing," Nino piped up. "

"Alright, I'll kiss Damian. However, you have to give me a little time to do it."

"How about..." Chloé thought it over. "You have to do it before we leave the airport to go to his house."

Marinette was certain that she could have pressed for a better offer, but she knew that in the end whether she kissed Damian two minutes after they met or two hours after they met, it wasn't going to change the fact that she was kissing him at their very first meeting. "I agree to your terms."

"Shake on it." Chloé held out her hand, and Marinette shook it.

"Chloé, it's your job to catch their first kiss on video," said Adrien. "If I don't have the chance to experience the first kiss in person, I at least want to see it secondhand."

"Make sure you send all the Daminette videos to Kim, Kagami, and I, too," piped up Alix.

"I can't believe you guys," Marinette laughed. "You gave Damian and I a ship name!"

"If it makes you feel any better, we made a valiant attempt to give ship names to all three of you, but Daminette was the only one that we came to a consensus on," said Alix. "The best we could come up with for Nino and Jon was Jonino, and we're waiting to learn J.T.'s real name to ship him and Chloé."

Marinette laughed. She loved her friends. They were so supportive of her, pushing her to be her best self.

Eventually, Kim, Alix, and Kagami left the call, as they had a full day planned in Kyoto. Adrien hung up just a few minutes after them, as he had to start getting ready for bed. His Father allowed Adrien to video chat with his friends after his modeling duties were fulfilled, but if it started interfering with Adrien's sleep schedule, leading to telltale dark circles under his eyes, Adrien's laptop would surely be taken away from him.

Marinette, Chloé, and Nino went to bed a few hours later, but despite Marinette's exhaustion, she couldn't fall asleep. A thought had been bothering her for weeks - she was going to have to keep the fact that she was Ladybug a secret from Damian. Marinette loathed the idea of secrets between her and her Soulmate, but Tikki had already made it very clear to Marinette that revealing her identity wasn't a decision to be made lightly. Marinette needed to truly know Damian before she could tell him about the Miraculous.

In a way, Marinette was a little bit jealous of Chat Noir. He didn't have a Soulmate, so he didn't have to deal with the stress of keeping his secret identity a secret from them. However, Marinette knew better than to not appreciate what she had. She loved Damian, and she wouldn't give him up for anything, even if it meant she had to keep some parts of her life a secret from him for the time being.

——————————————————————

Marinette watched the ground get further and further away as the plane to Gotham took flight. Anxiety bubbled up in her, but it wasn't caused by the flight or the heights. She was nervous to meet Damian, and despite all the reassurances that her friends gave to her, Marinette couldn't seem to shake the anxiety deep within her that he would find her lacking in some way.

"I wish I could text Damian," Marinette sighed, staring longingly at her phone, which she had turned onto airplane mode as soon as she stepped onto the plane.

"Don't worry, Marinette. You'll get to speak to him in person in seven hours," Nino reassured.

Marinette nodded, but she still felt restless. As soon as the overhead light to stay in the seats turned off, Marinette was heading to the on-plane restroom to pen Damian a note. She had enough paper in her pocket for three notes, but every time she drafted one, it came out wrong. The first sounded needy, the second sounded impersonal, and the third sounded just plain pathetic. Marinette threw each of them away in the bathroom trash can, making sure she watched where they landed so that there was no chance that Damian would find them by mistake.

Marinette returned to her seat, yawning as she greeted Nino. He had his headphones on and was listening to music. Chloé was curled up in the seat across the aisle, fast asleep, her sleep mask covering her eyes. She buckled back in and got comfortable, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before the plane landed. The gentle humming of the plane engine and the quiet music coming through her headphones was enough of a distraction that Marinette began to forget about her worries. Despite her anxiety, she was exhausted enough that it took her no time at all to fall asleep.

Marinette woke as the plane was landing, Nino gently prodding her arm. "Wake up, Marinette. We're in Gotham."

Marinette blinked her tired eyes open. "Already?" She yawned out the word. Marinette hadn't intended to sleep for all seven hours of the plane ride. She wanted at least a few minutes to try and conquer her pesky anxiety, but now it seemed that she would be jumping straight into the deep end. As she looked out the window, Marinette could see the twinkling lights of downtown Gotham, just a few miles away from the airport, trying for a moment to forget that she would be meeting her Soulmate in just a few minutes.

As she pulled her carry-on bag out of the overhead compartment, Chloé turned to face Marinette. "Remember what you promised to do," Chloé reminded in a teasing manner.

Marinette nodded. "I remember."

Marinette's spiking anxiety must have shown on her face, as Chloé immediately looked guilty. "You know, you don't have to kiss Damian if you don't feel comfortable doing it. I just wanted to help you take the first step in your relationship. I don't want you to get hurt."

Marinette took one deep breath, then another. "I will do it. I have to take the first step now, or I'll waste the whole trip second-guessing myself." Everything was going to be fine. She just had to get off the plane.

They filed out of the plane and walked towards the terminal, Nino in front, then Chloé, with Marinette bringing up the rear. With only seconds to go before she was to lay eyes on Damian, Marinette tried to picture him in her find. There were some features that she instinctively knew that she would see - soft dark hair, warm green eyes, and strong arms to hold her.

As Marinette walked into the airport terminal, immediately locking eyes with Damian. He was so unbelievable perfect, Marinette couldn't help the smile that overtook her face. Five years had led to this. Exactly five years and two weeks since the moment Marinette first found that knife underneath her bed, she looked her Soulmate in the eyes for the first time. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, like she was a sprawling garden or a crystal clear ocean or the starry night sky. Damian looked at her with so much love in his eyes, Marinette felt her racing heartbeat start to calm. She walked towards him, knowing exactly what to do.

"Hello, Damian," Marinette greeted, her smile growing.

Damian smiled back. "Hello, Marinette. It's nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too. I know it's a little late, but I have one last birthday gift to give to you."

This was the moment of truth. Before he could ask her further question, but giving him enough time to stop the kiss if that wasn't what he wanted, Marinette leaned forward on her tiptoes, bridging the eight-inch height difference, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

It was her first kiss and it was perfect. Just like Marinette read in books and heard in songs, it was a rush of emotion that was so powerful, Marinette never wanted it to end. His lips were soft and warm, and in her eagerness, Marinette, inexperienced in kissing, accidentally scraped her teeth against them. Damian let out a sharp breath, then started kissing her back, snaking his hands behind her back to hold her, gently lifting her to bring her closer to his lips.

Marinette could've kept kissing Damian forever, but the sound of Chloé's muffled laughter brought Marinette back down to Earth. In an instant, she remembered that she and Damian were in public, in the middle of the airport, with Marinette's two best friends, Damian's best friend, and Damian's brother all watching. Marinette broke away from the kiss. "Hi," Marinette said breathlessly, gazing up at him with bright eyes.

Damian grinned like the cat that got the cream, as he teased, "Thank you for the gift."

Marinette blushed furiously, realizing exactly what she had done. "I- I thought that we should get it out of the way right at the beginning, whether or not we want to start our relationship now or wait a few years. As you can probably deduce, my vote is for starting it now."

Damian leaned down towards Marinette and pressed another kiss to her lips, less passionate than the first, but just as lovely. "I think we're in agreement. I would like you to come to Richard's wedding with me, not only as my date but also as my girlfriend."

"I would love that." Marinette placed her hand in his and squeezed. "I'm so happy to finally meet you face to face."

"It's been a long time coming," Damian agreed. "Five years."

"Five years and two weeks exactly, since the day that..." Marinette's voice trailed off, unsure of how to bring up the subject of the knife. Marinette had a vague memory of herself promising Nino, Kim, and Alix that she would confront her Soulmate about the subject when she first met him. Eventually, Marinette decided to rip off the bandaid in one go and  just confront it head-on. "Since the day that I found the knife."

"I will explain that, but not tonight. It's a long story, and we have to get back to the house. I promise I will explain everything tomorrow."

Marinette nodded. "I've waited five years and two weeks, I can wait a few more hours."

"Damian!" The man standing next to Chloé called out. "Are you going to introduce your girlfriend to us, or are you going to keep kissing her. I'm getting a little tired of waiting. None of us are getting any younger here."

Chloé elbowed him in the side. "Ignore Jason, he's being an asshole on purpose."

Damian, however, didn't seem at all bothered by Jason's words. He gently brought one arm around her shoulders. "Todd, Jon, this is my girlfriend, Marinette."

Marinette smiled at Jason and Jon. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, Marinette. I have just one question though. Do you know Chloé?"

"It's kind of a long story. Could we explain in the car?" Marinette asked.

Jason shrugged. "I won't be driving home with you, so how about you explain it over breakfast tomorrow?"

"What do you mean you won't be driving home with them?" asked Chloé, narrowing her eyes accusatorially.

"I have to stop at my apartment and pick up some things before I come back to stay at the Manor. Don't worry, I'm not ditching you just yet."

Chloé rolled her eyes, but Marinette could tell that she had been genuinely worried. Having a mother like Audrey Bourgeoise would give anyone abandonment issues.

They all got their luggage, then walked from the airport terminal to the car, parked in the parking lot outside. Marinette and Damian held hands the whole way there, Marinette pressing her body into his side as they walked. After five years of separation, Marinette was desperate for some physical intimacy.

Damian got into the driver's seat of the car, but not before opening up the passenger door for Marinette. "Thank you," Marinette said, giving him her brightest smile.

The drive home was quiet, as everyone was too tired for any in-depth conversation. Nino was sleeping on Jon's shoulder in the back seats, while Chloé was typing rapid-speed on her phone, likely telling Adrien and the rest of the group chat about Marinette and Damian's first kiss.

Marinette stared wide-eyed out the window, trying to take everything in as they drove through the brightly-lit streets of downtown Gotham. Skyscrapers loomed overhead, the distinctive gothic architecture. Even at two AM, the streets of Gotham were bright and busy. Massive screens illuminated the streets with advertisements. People bustled around underneath, as if unaware that two AM was supposed to be the dead of night. The city had so much energy, it was hard to believe that it was the crime capital of the world. Marinette had expected dark, foreboding alleyways and sketchy characters lurking on every street corner.

"Gotham doesn't seem as bad as I anticipated," Marinette commented.

"It's not so bad in the heart of the city. The worst crime you'll experience in downtown Gotham is pickpockets and purse stealers. Once you get into the less wealthy parts of Gotham, that's where the worst of the crime takes place," Damian answered.

Marinette let out a hum of acknowledgment, which quickly turned into a yawn. Though it would be seven AM in Paris, she had adjusted her sleeping schedule to the point that her body knew that it was the middle of the night. "How soon until we get to your house?"

"We'll arrive at Wayne Manor in approximately half an hour."

A realization shocked Marinette out of her tired state. "Wayne Manor? As in Bruce Wayne!?"

Damian winced. "Bruce Wayne is my father."

"Your father is the billionaire owner of Wayne Industries." Marinette could barely believe it. She knew that Damian came from a fairly wealthy family, as he often got her expensive gifts and the car he was driving (though Marinette didn't know cars very well) appeared to be from a luxury brand, but Marinette never expected that Damian was the son of a billionaire.

"Yes." Damian glanced at Marinette. "I know I should have told you earlier, but I wasn't sure how to break the news. Are you upset?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm not upset, just overwhelmed. What if..." Marinette's voice trailed off. "Do you think that your family will like me?"

"Of course they'll like you. Timothy already believes that you must be a saint, the way you're able to put up with me."

Marinette smiled, reassured by his words. "How fancy is the wedding going to be? I designed a dress myself for the occasion, but I'm not sure if it'll be nice enough for such an expensive wedding."

Damian shook his head. "The wedding will be a small ceremony, in the Wayne Manor gardens, with the reception directly preceding it in the Manor ballroom."

"I'll have to show you my dress tomorrow," decided Marinette.

"If you designed it yourself, I'm sure it will be perfect."

The car started leaving the downtown of the city, traveling down the highway for a while before pulling off onto a dark lane that wound its way through a forest. They drove for almost ten minutes, past houses that got progressively larger and progressively farther apart until Damian pulled up to a gated driveway. He pressed a button on the dashboard and the gates opened up. Marinette couldn't help but be impressed by the show of wealth. As the car made its way up the long driveway, Marinette waited for the house to come into view. She knew that it would be large - it was called Wayne Manor, after all - but the knowledge didn't prepare her for the massive mansion that sat on the top of the hill. Though it was difficult to see through the dark, Marinette could tell that it was beautiful. Wayne Manor was a stunning example of gothic architecture, more like something out of a nineteenth-century romance novel than an actual house that people lived in.

"Wow," Marinette breathed out the word, stunned.

Damian got out of the car and opened up Marinette's door for her. "Welcome to Wayne Manor."

Taglist: @fanboy7794 @mikantsume @hetalia-lover-is-here @howtoshuckatlife @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @redscarlet95 @derpingrainbow  @friedchickening @melicmusicmagic @beautym3 @kunstner1 @shizukiryuu @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @crazylittlemunchkin @black-streak @darkshadowguardian @mystery-5-5 @trubel43 @fandomfan315 @vincentvangoose @royalchaoticfangirl @mooshoon @drama-queen-supreme @kae690 @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @zoerayne2426 @littleredrobinhoodlum @lunar-wolf-warrior @dani-ari @sam-spectra @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @interobanginyourmom @northernbluetongue @eliza-bich @romanoff-queen @scribblinggraveyard @dur55 @jeminiikrystal @sassakitty @miss-mysterys-blog @aegyobutpsycho2 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @chaosace @pepelachanel

#maribat #miraculous ladybug #daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #lost and found #maridami #marinette x damian #miraculous ladybug fic #my work #fanfic

[anestheticrage]

Be me: Japanese honor student🎓, 15, with half a brain and even less of a plan. Hunting bitches by day and witches by night. Livin that dank only child✌️ life while mom n dad yeet all over the globe, leavin me plenty of time to forget not to make 2 lunches for myself #quirky 😜

no time for socialization or basic electronics skills ???📱??? when your best friends are an alien demon rabbit🐰👽 and the inexplicable Hole ™ in your brain. lmao, btw did i mention im ✨M✨A✨G✨I✨C✨A✨L✨

dreamin bout my 2D waifus again when familiar pink haired cancer patient dances through my brain passin out fliers: Kamihama Meguca Dating Service: Sponsored by Cult of the Magius. 250 stones per session 🤔

seems legit, Mr. Moneybags. wasn't spending my unwieldy sack of gemstones on anything else anyway. lets pull 💎💎💎

first up we have Redhead Radagast and her plethora of plants. 🌿☺️🦎

anndd, nearly dies immediately. 

well not off to a great start but i guess shes pretty cute at lea- oh FUCK its her girlfriend, Tsundere Poseidon😒🔱💦, and their exasperated, straight and single Sword Mom 😔🗡️🔥. fml gonna have to save up for the next pull. might as well play a few rounds with what i got tho. 

get in some good girl talk about things like school, color coded hair styles, body count, permanent soul damage, and our personal demon pacts. ya know, the usual 😚 . realize my dark backstory seems to be missing, so the girls take me to Ketchup Queen Sappho 🍅🥧 (wtf?) to molest my glowy egg stone. whatevs, more action than ive had since Kuroe 🖤 got added to the story anyway

the gang agrees it's time to hunt down the cutest rabbit pimp 🕶️🐇💵 in the city. >> say 🎵mukyuuu🎵 one more time and ill hug you so hard my backstory will pop right out, you adorable fluffy bastard. plz be my new best friend 💕

Form brand new friendship pact with Kyubae, and remember that my lil Sis 🐥 was always the best wingman for pickin up magic chicks, and kept her side of the room so spotless i forgot she existed. whoops 乁༼☯���☯✿༽ㄏ Maybe if I find her i can stop paying these exorbitant pull fees.📵💎

speaking of which: hot damn this week's featured bachelorette is a 19 year old model and magical detective🔎 with massive levels of PTSD and self loathing 🥵💙💦 more likely to stab you or dramatically jump off a rooftoop than utter a single positive comment. wow, maybe i really COULD find true love…

... if i had MORE THAN A 1% FUCKING DRAW CHANCE. 😡 smh

hard to make much progress finding sis or winning the broken heart of a hard boiled detective amidst the never ending lover's quarrel of the Trident Vine Lesbians. 💔 Sword Mom tells them if they don't behave a monster will take them away. LOL classic mom 🤣

>>>HOLY FUCK IT DID

declare all-out war on urban legends, starting with staircases ⚔️ to reunite the dysfunctional trio, and hope that I net a way better lineup with the next 10x pull. at least sad sleuth lady came to help out. they say combat is the best way to bond wi-   and there she goes off the rooftop again 🙄 fml

alright that got way off track, we need a fresh start, away from all the loli drama. how bout a little B&E🔓🔨🤷🏻‍♀️ at the local house of worship to clear my head. ahh nothing like the unanswered prayers of the masses to get you in the mood for another wasted pull, and the 🔥 MIGHTIEST 🔥 headache you could ask for with a side of Double Cooked Pork 🐖🍜 (meh 5/10🧾)

venture forth into the spiritual unknown with your new human flamethrower🔥🌻🧡 and ask your favorite private eye to please, for the love of Eve, trade Meguca accounts with me~~~ Head through the eastern spirit portal to meet up with hologram propaganda sis and detective crush's evil ex, who joined a dating-app cult (#fuck) and also turned into the moon?🌕?(that's rough buddy)

get ambushed by Acid Horse on Wheels 🌈🐴 and vomit up my soul so hard that its time for a crossover episode. T U R F F F   W A R R R *que operatic harmonies* 💛 Blondie with the hair drills and enough attitude and guns to fill up a noble phantasm tries to ban my account permanently, but PI heartthrob denies her admin privileges. aww babe i didn't know you cared. 😭♥️

get kidnapped by my new true love and go back to her place 😏  defs enough empty rooms to house five emotionally traumatized girls and at least two ghosts hehehe👻 XD 💚🃏💜🎸 decide to form the anti-gossip brigade and recruit my blazing sunflower after getting ambushed by the witch living in my fruit loops🥣

❌outvoted 2:1 that cults are bad. mf. fiinneee one last pull to round out the team and then I'll delete the app. cmonnn Karin 🎃~

OH HELL YEAH TWO FOR ONE.

Always wanted a daughter 💜🔨🐄 with a penchant for pissing off the local Martial Arts & Books Club and drinking suspicious liquids offered by total strangers. Well if it's good enough for her AND the sexy mayadere with enough game to seduce a mermaid, might as well get in on that myself. 

#curseddrank 🤢 0/24 would not recommend to a friend, 'cept maybe Ria

win alot of cash 🤑, blow up a fountain, meet the pied piper²🎶🖕, moon cult, monochrome feathers, something about liberation✊🏻; adopt temper tantrum cow girl. aces 💜🥩

Next up!!! skydiving with DJ Hammer! Jump to apparently-not-certain death after suicidal A.I. 💚💾🗼 tells you to rescue her hostage before they run out of Radiohead albums and have to move on to Thom Yorke's solo discography. save the invisible shield kitten 💚👑😿 from happiness and get chased through the internet by the sexiest homicidal Paint Pallette 💚🎨😈 since Caravaggio. (apparently green is the color of the digital apocalypse. i’m deleting Kako from my friend's list)

that’s it, fuck this app. 250 stones 💎 per-life-threatening-experience is more than i’m willing to deal with 😓 don’t wanna mess with the perfect nuclear family anyway. we've already got: 

✔️the two emotionally traumatized moms with memory and commitment issues

✔️the adhd daughter with anger management problems and a giant hammer

✔️the psychologically abused scizophrenic cat

✔️and the eccentric aunt with crippling anxiety

#squadgoals

now that were done hoarding bitches, its time to hunt the witches. and the bitches makin the witches. btw did i mention the witches ARE the bitches! AND WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!? 📽️⁉️💀 wait fuck lets back up a second

This is Nemo📕 and Token🧪 and they have all the answers but prefer if you only ask vague questions in exchange for vague responses so they can fill in the rest by discussing their superior intellect 🧠 at length. not to mention they built that dating app, so of course everyone in my harem decides to be a FUCKING. TRAITOR.🤬

cept waifu prime ofc 🥰💙. [PTSD > brainwashing] 'yOu CaN bE tHe LeAdEr NoW'. i have been from the very beginning you traumatized Hinedere nightmare. maybe if you weren't so caught up collecting surrogate daughters you would've noticed IM👏THE👏ONLY👏 ONE👏PROGRESSING👏THE FUCKING👏PLOT✨

rescue the rest of dysfunctional found-family™ from selves before my adorable firebender burns down Disnihama🎡🔥😱 during her weekly anxiety attack. (love the makeover T B H) 

CHAPTER 8: Magical Girl Massacre🩸🗡️

   - everyone has like, the shittiest day ever

   - the new Pope really needs to be extradited from the church

   - make friends with a really pretty tree 🌺🌲✨

i swear, if i don't finish this god damn story in time to get that free pull im gonna beat the shit out of every mirror i find in that giant mansion that i haven't even had any time to even mention yet. 🖕🏚️ let alone EVERYTHING happening with the prequel [fuck you, I'm the star] girls 💗💜💙💛❤️️ and their multidimensional melodrama. We don't need that many repetitive af episodes to emphasize that Homo-ra is a shitty person. we've all seen Rebellion. 🙄

NO, I DONT CARE IF YOU WANT SAPPHO'S BACKSTORY, I ONLY HAVE 79 STONES LEFT AND IF YACHAN FINDS OUT I HAVEN'T DELETED THE APP YET IM GONNA HAVE TO GO SLEEP IN WITH SANA 😭💎💸😠

uhhhggggg where were we… Topple a cult and burn down Hotel Denoument only to realize that Sis was fused with the dating app servers this entire madokafuckin time (told ya she was the best wingman 😊). 

Dilemma: Sis =🥚, Triumvirate of Trouble want 🐣. What do? vote now:

Help Hatch - IIIIIII

Not Do That - IIIII

What The Actual Fuck Is Going On - IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lets just fight everyone until something good happens.

🔥🔫🔥🗡️🔥😱🔥🌆🔥😱🔥🛡️🔥💣🔥

Kill (???) the artist-in-chief of the italian reindeer murder police after teaching her the true meaning of Christmas 🎄 hatch 🐣lil Sis and realize she WAS your wingman all along🐰 MUKYUUUU! we're just gonna ignore how much trouble it would have saved if you'd just mentioned that. "yOu DiDnT aSk..." 

FUCK YOU SPACE BITCH. ONCE AN INCUBATOR ALWAYS AN INCUBATOR 🖕🐇🔪

anywho, somewhere along the lines we of course summoned the Antichrist ⚙️ because why not raise the stakes to max and still not kill off a single character. Madofuckinkami, can we PLEASE wrap this up. 😩💤

feathers (not the culty kind, tfm) rain from the sky, and the power of friendship and not having the Urobutcher 🔪🩸as a lead writer saves our peacefully sectioned off alternate reality 😇

TL:DR fuck cults, real life waifus DO exist, don't sell your soul to space rabbits, or your stones to megacorporations. Enjoy arc 2 on the JP server with your shitty translation patch you filthy fuckin weebs 

Yours Truly, 

- Thirsty Weeb Eroha 💗💎😘 

#magia record #magireco #pmmm #iroha tamaki #magical girls #puella magi madoka magica #magia record anime #gen urobuchi #waifus #weebs #thirsty weeb iroha #shitpost #yachiyo nanami #mitama yakumo #kaede akino #rena minami #momoko togame #sana futaba #tsuruno yui #aniplex #magia record na #i love this game so much #and im devastated that the servers are closing #yes this is how i deal with emotions #gatcha #fuck aniplex #i hope this brings a few laughs to some of you #Tsuruno is best girl #<3

[snapetrash]

so I wrote a crack fic where Snape and Harry smoke weed and talk about their problems. kinda.  It’s posted on Ao3 if you want to read it there. It’s pretty ooc and an adult smokes weed and tobacco with an underage student, so there’s your warning for moral ambiguity. Starts at the beginning of book 5, in an AU where everything is the same except Harry picks up a smoking habit to self medicate his slightly crippling anxiety and depression. Looking for a Beta so let me know if you’re interested!!!

Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys had been here for weeks while he had to deal with his relatives, and fucking demetors- what a load of bollocks. Harry dumped his trunk and bags in his room and made a beeline for the attic of Grimmauld Place, grabbing his pack of menthols and lighter as he went.

 They’d arrived at the Order headquarters a little after 2 am, so he knew no one would come looking for him until morning. He’d told Remus after a brief hug that he was exhausted before he’d headed to his room. Harry climbed the rickety, spiraling stairs leading to the topmost floor of Grimmauld without so much as a glance behind him. 

Harry knew Sirius was in the house somewhere, and probably awake, but anxiety and anger had tied his stomach in knots. He would go see his godfather after his smoke. After. Everything had to come after he’d had a moment to himself, or he’d blow up and regret everything. 

As he struggled to wrench open the window, he briefly considered smoking inside, smell and lingering smoke bedamned, but as the thought crossed his mind the window gave a little shriek and popped open. Harry crawled out onto the dirty shingles and moved to sit beside the window, looking out onto the backyard of the house. 

He opened his pack, pulled out a joint and popped it in his mouth, lighting up and taking a deep, fortifying breath. Harry’s eyes fell closed as he inhaled deeply, pulling in air after his hit and exhaling, long and measured. As he went to take another hit, he opened the pack of cigarettes one more time to retrieve a menthol and tuck it behind his ear, for later. His hair was such a mess that it covered the white of the paper completely, and kept the fug from prying eyes. It wouldn’t be fun if he was caught and chewed out by Mrs. Weasley for smoking. 

The sky was dark and overcast, sounds of the city muffled by the powerful wards on the house. It was a fairly hot night, temperature perfect for Harry and his penchant for being chilly in all seasons. After three or four hits he could feel the tension bleed from his body, finally making way for bone deep exhaustion.

“ Potter, what on earth-” If Harry hadn’t been halfway through his joint, he would’ve startled at the sound of Snape’s irritated growl coming from the window beside him. But he’d been awake for more than 24 hours, and hadn’t had a decent meal for just as long. The energy to care about being caught smoking on a roof by his professor? He just didn’t have it at the moment. 

“Are you smoking pot?” The utter incredulity in the Potion Master’s voice prompted Harry to actually turn and look at the other man. Snape was leaning out the window, arms braced on the sil with his wand in a relatively loose grip. He was wearing what looked like a long sleeve tee and worn sweatpants- both black of course- but surprisingly muggle. It made the older man look softer, younger; the small part of Harry’s brain that hadn’t checked out the moment he lit up was shocked at how Snape looked, even as he glared at him. 

There were other things Harry noticed about him too; his paler-than-usual pallor, the way his body seemed wound tight like a spring and the heavy-lidded exhaustion in his eyes. Snape wasn’t staring him down, not like usual. No, he seemed like maybe he’d come for a bit of solitude too. In fact, when Harry’s gaze flicked down to the potion master’s hands he saw a wooden pipe, shiny and black just like the rest of him, clutched in his non-wand hand. 

It was 2 am and everyone else in the house was probably in bed. Harry realized he’d been staring, not answering, and Snape was looking tenser and moodier by the second.

“Are you wearing pajamas?” He blurted out, immediately regretting everything. Fuck, he was gonna get so many detentions. But Snape was wearing pajamas, it was beyond strange, and Harry had gone ahead and said the first thing that’d come to his mind like a complete idiot. 

Snape gave him a look of utter loathing, like he was thinking the exact same thing. Harry couldn’t help but notice the dark bags under his eyes, and again did something incredibly stupid. Marijuana in the wizarding world didn’t hold the same weight as it did for muggles, but still. He was sure there was a rule written somewhere that said ‘thou shalt not smoke cannabis with thy potions master.’ or something. 

Harry offered him the joint wordlessly. It was quite a normal gesture, in general terms; Snape stared at the offending apparatus in what seemed like numb shock, his eyes a little wide, his mouth drawn down into a tight line. It hung in the air between them, and just as Harry thought that maybe he really was going to die at the hands of his teacher that hated him, the older wizard reached out and plucked the burning thing from his fingers. 

The moment Snape took it, instead of watching him(his fucking professor!) Harry grabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it up, just to have something to do with his hands. He looked up just in time to see Snape exhale a fat cloud of smoke and look at the joint with a thoughtful expression. After a moment they swapped; Snape had the cigarette and Harry had the joint. 

The younger wizard watched the other inhale and grimace, before his professor quietly muttered. “Of course you would smoke this muggle menthol crap.” 

Harry snorted. “You certainly aren’t the first one to give me shit for it.” 

This was probably the quietest, nicest moment he’d ever had in Snape’s presence. Who knew all it took was a little weed to win over the nasty dungeon bat? Harry had to force a cough, lest he giggle at the thought. 

The deserted city before them had infected both wizards with a sense of calm; no nightmares, or oaths or dark lords could reach them here. When Harry saw the joint going down, he pulled out another and put the other out in seamless rotation. Snape made a soft noise that might’ve been a scoff, but otherwise said nothing and took a long drag of the new joint. 

Neither man knew how they’d stumbled upon this fragile peace, but they weren’t going to go out of their way to break it now. Still, Harry couldn’t resist pushing his luck.

“I keep waiting to wake up from this bizarre dream, but it hasn’t happened yet.” He muttered with humor. 

Snape side-eyed him, blowing a bit of smoke out before fucking smirking “Why does it matter? No one would believe you if you told them about this.”

That had Harry fighting back horrified laughter, coughing a little on the smoke caught in his throat, because this was another level and who knew his evil git of a teacher could be so devious? In a funny way, not his usual ‘Potter, detention for breathing’ way.  Stealing a glance at Snape, he saw that he’d relaxed a lot more. He had an elbow on the sill, his chin propped up in his hand- and a little quirk on his lips that was almost a smile.

This side of Snape was completely new to Harry; but he vowed silently to himself that he’d try to draw it out as often as he could. Clearly the guy was under a lot of pressure, playing for both sides. Maybe he was a completely different person, outside of all the acting and playing the field he had to do. 

“You’re different, like this.” Harry’s brain to mouth filter had said sayonara at this point; the small part of his mind that was rational, and screaming at him to ‘shut up, Potter, you utter wanker’ was drowned out by his high and the strange night. 

“I know we have to keep hating each other- keep up appearances, I mean- um. But I wouldn’t mind doing this again. I just- I’ve been realizing how much you do for the war, for me and I- You’re not a bad guy at all, is what I might be saying. Who knows, I’m stoned. Ignore me.” Please, Harry, shut the fuck up now. 

Snape’s burning gaze bore holes into his forehead as he hurriedly stuck his fug in his mouth to silence himself. The younger wizard didn’t take his eyes off his own hands, cheeks burning, waiting for the end. 

“Why in Merlin’s name would you want to spend any more time with me than you have to? It’s not like I haven’t given you every reason to hate me that I could think of.” The older man replied, and oh god, both of them were way too tired and totally not sober enough to have this kind of conversation. If they were sober they would never have it in the first place. 

Harry didn’t say anything for a while, not sure how to respond. “Well it’s not like I didn’t figure that out eventually- and you’re one of the few people in this entire, fucked up secret society that treats me like a normal person. From everyone else it’s either hero worship, pity, or they hate me for shite I can’t control.” He paused and took another drag of his cigarette. “Or they expect me to be a carbon copy of my dad. I guess you also did that for a while too, but you have to keep up appearances for the all the kids reporting back to their death eater parents.” 

Snape turned his eyes on Harry again, showing a myriad of emotions across his face, all hard to decipher. He seemed almost angry. “Don’t be daft. I publicly humiliate you whenever I have the chance. I’m not a nice man, it wasn’t always an act!” 

“Well you just admitted that it’s an act now! Why are you so afraid to admit you like me, professor?” That shut Snape up pretty effectively, because all he did was relight the joint that had gone out in his hands. 

Harry sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his head on his knees, facing Snape. “You’ve always reminded me of my muggle teachers in elementary, kind of. The ones that knew from speaking to Petunia that I was a delinquent, but were still determined to teach me. It gave me a sense of normalcy amongst all the magic, in a place where suddenly I was popular and sought after for a glorified tragedy I don’t even remember. I dunno.” he laughed bitterly, remembering his first year. The months after his letter came, wondering if he’d go to sleep after classes that night and wake up in the cupboard. 

Snape looked very tired, as if every word Harry spoke took what little energy he had left. “You’re not anything like your father was, as your age. How could you be, you’ve never met the man.” He mumbled the last sentence, but Harry heard it anyway. 

“Exactly! You understand. Fuck.” The teenager took a shaking breath, and then the joint when Snape passed it to him. They fumbled for a second when he nearly dropped it, hands brushing in the dark, but it made its way into Harry’s shaking hands and he hit it once, with feeling. 

After a few minutes of silence in which they finished the second joint, and Snape lit his pipe(which to Harry’s surprise) actually had weed in it. They passed it back and forth for a little while longer. 

“Albus wants me to teach you Legilimency this year. You’ll come to my office once a week after class, and call it remedial potions when anyone asks.” 

“Cool, we’ll be able to hang out more without anyone around to ruin it.” Harry replied absently. When he realized that he’d just indicated, verbally, that he’d enjoy hanging out with Snape(and his mind was really blown at that one) he looked up to see Snape staring at him with his eyebrow raised, a picture of unimpressed. 

“You realize you’re going to actually have to learn to be a Legilimens, right Potter?” 

“Oh yeah. It might just be the weed, but I’m feeling much better about it now than I would’ve if we hadn’t had this conversation.” The teen replied with good humor. It was true; he was feeling much better about Snape in general. Harry remembered how much of a hardass his professor was, and was quick to reassure him. “I’ll do my best to learn all I can from you.”

Snape’s face softened a little. “See that you do, Potter.” He straightened, Placing his pipe in his pocket and pulling himself back into the attic. The older man reached a hand out for Harry to help him inside. “Come now. It’s bedtime for wizarding saviors.” 

Harry smiled, caught the larger, rougher hand in his own and allowed himself to be lightly manhandled back into the attic. He felt beyond tired. When he stumbled on the stairs, Snape dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and left it there. 

“To the kitchen first, I have a vial of dreamless sleep for you.” Snape said quietly. The younger man grunted a wordless acknowledgement and they made their way together through the house. The potions master beelined to a high cabinet in the corner and pulled out two small bottles, uncorking one and downing it and passing the other to Harry. 

“Thanks, professor. Good night.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” Snape was rewarded with a blinding smile as Harry made his way upstairs. He went to his room, and fell asleep quicker than he’d had in years.

#severitus #ooc characters #crack treated seriously #crack fic