#i'm sick of it. so fucking bored with being in constant pain. i want my life & energy back. i want a personality beyond Oh Just Tired back.

[steamanband]

Can u summarize that Joyce (or mask) lore for me my memory is so shit actually

I wasn't specifically waiting for confirmation to send this one but I remembered now lol entertain ME !!

YES BOSS!!! I know you said summarise but errm. I yapped a lot. Long post incoming.

Joyce. I actually don't think often about her life before she worked for Walter Manor but she was born in 1988 and is a fat emo lesbian so I imagine people weren't very nice to it. 😕 But she was undoubtedly the smartest and coolest person around sooo suck it haters 💯

I think she started working for Walter Robotics around late 2013 / early 2014 maybe. Some time after Six's face exploded. Her unique specialisation being cybernetic enhancements, prosthetics, blue matter medicines ect ect medical used for blue matter. Its core purpose is always to help people, often at the expense of it's own well-being or comfort. She refuses to experiment on other living things and instead performs a lot of experiments on her own body, which obviously considering the nature of blue matter is a terrible idea, but it's hard to talk her out of things she has already made its mind up on. She is in. A lot of constant pain. But fuck it she balls.

As of currently in the timeline (like 2024) it has been working for Walter robotics for 10ish years !! She's like. 36.

Personality wise it's very fun 2 me. Bc I'm sure she comes off as a very stereotypical loving and sweet person, and she is both of those things, but honestly it's also... RIDICULOUSLY stubborn and easy to annoy WHAHWUAHWHAH if you piss her off once she will not like you forever and will tell you as much. Truly born to be married into the Walter family, the family of grade A haters. Although its irritability is likely due to her surplus of health issues and lack of sleep, it just feels   very sick 100% of the time. She's also a bit of a shut in, despite her friendliness she gets tired of talking to people easily and will often disappear for days on end to work or recover or both

Some fun Joyce Ferrer-Rosales trivia:

- It has superhuman strength as a result of her experiments and can easily lift the weight of a couple cars over her head

- She likes fishing. Her and Hatchworth go fishing together

- It finds boring people genuinely unbearable to talk to if you arent a freak do NOT interact

- I think she would really enjoy things that taste cheap and fake. Mmmm microplastics

TLDR: She wanted to make medicines and became a cyborg about it

#walter worker Joyce #my girl...

[itmfluv]

August-Sept Log: -Cut two friends out my life because one of them had a personality clash with me and we never hang out anyways or talk at all and the other one kept making jokes out at my expense. I didn't need the low vibrations so I'm feeling so much more happier but also mourning over the good memories. Time will heal me though so I'm not too worried, I'll let myself feel these feelings. My best friend is always here to help me feel better too. I got to say the only awkward thing about it is having a friend group and them both being friends with the two guys I cut out my life. What I told everyone is that I don't care for people to take sides with me or care at all about the situation and just be neutral-you can hang out with them I couldn't care less. Which is why I didn't go around telling anyone or ran my mouth, I just wanted them to find out on their own naturally. But unfortunately, soon enough some of our friends naturally started treating me differently which is whatever. Can't change people's opinion about you, if they choose to not fuck with you, then it's their loss. I'm just dissapointed those two guys ran their mouths when I chose not to out of respect for the fact that I knew them for two plus years. At least the ones I have around me are the ones that I know are good people. Also I don't get people. Why are some people confused, almost even shocked when you cut them out your life. It's not like you didn't see it coming. Especially we weren't speaking to eachother or hanging out for a long time, why would you even care about it. Also I absolutely hate when people makes constant jokes at someone's expense, I will laugh it off for the first few times but I really do not fuck with shady remarks being thrown at me for the sake of your enjoyment and I have told that friend several times before. One of my friends told me he might still be confused as to why I reacted the way I did in cutting him out but I'm tired of explaining myself as to why I hit a limit with people. I wish them the best of luck I have no hatred at all. -Seeing some of the best couples I know split up which is sad. Makes me realize no matter how long you've been with someone, they can still be a stranger later in life. -Sims 5 is possibly getting released next month? If there is no multiplayer option I don't want it. I already spent hundreds of dollars on sims4 only to play it for like 40 minutes and get bored.. -Speaking of money, all the money I spent on valorant, I could have bought myself a damn blackpink ticket. Also why are the blackpink concert tickets so expensive? People need to fcking sell one of their kidneys to be able to see blackpink nowadays jesus yg. -Speaking of Jennie. More photos of taehyung and jennie are released and I'm so happy they look so happy I hope it's true that man is pushing 30 he needs some good loving in his life. -Big change in life is coming and I'm going to move soon this year. Bro, I'm excited. Fk this apartment bro, people are sketchy, not friendly and um I will never forget about that lady next door who tried to steal my uber eats chipotle burrito and I caught her red handed when I opened my door. -Also going to find a nice tattoo shop when I move and start trying for apprenticing because it's always been a huge goal of mine. -Might need to get a checkup because I been feeling fatigue with stomach pains and headaches often. I hope I'm not too sick. I'm going to see my mom this december for christmas so maybe I'll feel better eating her food and being at home with the family. -Well the stomach pain could still be the gastritis and stomach lining swelling from all the alcohol I had on my birthday. Don't drink on an empty stomach and get wasted...that day was fun but I couldn't eat properly for few days and I def for sure damaged my stomach pretty good from throwing up so much...

#diary #thoughts

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

#tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #hurt comfort #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #harry holland

[sksungie]

WARNING : The following content contains potentially triggering imagery of blood and knives, mentions of blood, injuries, violence, mild body horror and murder. Proceed at your own risk.

•

༺═───────────────────────────═༻

“Tsk, where are you hiding huh? Come on out darling, I promise I won't hurt you,”

You cowered in the darkness of your home, body shaking like a leaf in the wind as you helplessly stifled your cries of fear. The footsteps of the intruder were barely audible, only light taps of their heels on your wooden floor being heard. Tears had already streaked down your cheeks from terror, the smell of blood in the air as you took a glance down at the wound you were so adamantly pressing on at your leg.

The pressure from your hand surely helped lessen the bleeding, but it won't be long before droplets of blood began dripping from the deep cut.

And it won't be long before the killer spots it.

“Awh, come on. You really wanna keep hiding? But dearie, I'm already tired of playing hide and seek!” His deep voice cuts through the thick air, a hint of what seemed like annoyance accentuating his words. “Am I really that scary? I thought you called me cute the other day,”

You barely managed to catch yourself from gasping, pupils now trembling along with your body from the sudden realization.

“The barista..?”

“Mhm~ I bet you didn't expect that did you? An innocent young man, a regular college student working at a cafe and serving drinks with a little smile. Who knew such a harmless looking person can be a heartless murderer?” He mused.

His words taunt more fear into your bones, your vision blurry from tears and nausea from blood loss. Your other hand grips onto your only weapon of self defense; a potato masher you managed to grab as you stumbled along the kitchen and hid behind the island.

You inhaled, gritting your teeth as you finally yelled out, “What the hell do you fucking want from me??”

A pause.

There was a small moment of silence before you heard him chuckle, voice laced with so much happiness you thought he was doing something completely innocent.

“They always think there's some sort of motive behind every serial killer. But come on, can't we just kill for the fun of it?”

“You're sick. YOU'RE SICK IN THE HEAD!” You screamed, gripping onto your weapon with a newfound rage. The fear you felt had accumulated into burning anger, survival instincts kicking up as your fight or flight senses begin to drive your body to react. “How could you say you kill for fun? You're a monster you FREAK!”

As if losing control, you moved yourself up, away from your hiding spot as you hurled yourself at the man, kitchen utensil swinging down and hitting him right in the face. You couldn't even feel the pain of the wound on your leg anymore despite it freely bleeding heavily and soaking your pants, adrenaline moving your limbs to attack and survive.

Well, that was if survive was ever an option to begin with.

You could hear the sound of metal dropping onto the floor, your potato masher— now tainted in blood— laying on the tiles, staining the pristine surface a haunting red. Small bits of what you could make out to be flesh were soaked in the crimson liquid as well, the sight making you suppress the urge to hurl. The killer doesn't flinch, not moving even a muscle as fresh, warm blood runs down the side of his face, dark bangs hanging over his eyes.

It takes you a few seconds to register what had exactly happened, and before you had time to move he let loose a laugh.

It was maniacal, crazy, absolutely insane. He laughed and laughed with his knife in his hands, clutching the side of his face as a grin overtakes his lips. And for the first time, you catch sight of the perpetrator's facials.

Gone were the youthful eyes that crinkled everytime they shyly smiled when you spoke to the barista, the careless yet endearing nature that seemed to encase him was nothing but a mere memory now.

It was gone.

All that's left were dark foreboding eyes. Lifeless, empty.

And filled with utter glee.

“FINALLY! Someone that doesn't just go around screaming and running and actually entertaining!” He exclaims, throwing his head back to let out another laugh. You stood there, frozen in horror.

Your weapon had left a gash down from his eyebrow to the start of his cheek, the moonlight illuminating the blood still dripping down the side of his face and past his grinning lips yet he looked as if he could care less. That was when it hit you.

He was too far gone in insanity to care.

"I thought you'd be just as boring, especially when you went ahead and hid from me." He pouts, taking a step closer. "But looks like you lived up to my expectations,"

“P-Please,” you stumbled with your words, the agony of your wound and your trembling heart and your crippling fright all mixing into a condition that made you stagger back, looking up at the psychopath with begging eyes. “Please d-don't kill me— please! I'll do anything!”

How unfortunate for you though, mercy was non-existent in Park Jisung's book.

It took one swift kick to have you crawling back in an attempt to run away from him, screaming yet again in your empty flat for help. But you didn't get far as he grabs your legs, making you trip and fall onto the floor on your chest; shrieking your lungs out as he drags you away.

His footsteps, the same tap tap tap that approaches a person so silently that it's impossible to hear drags on until he reaches the bedroom, a grin on his face.

He giggles at your constant screaming, wiping some of his blood with his knife before licking the metal clean.

“Time to play~”

The door closes.

༺═───────────────────────────═༻

𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗! 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕵𝖎𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖌

───── 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙐𝙥 𝙎𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙎𝙤𝙤𝙣 ─────

༺═───────────────────────────═༻

✒️: @yanlee @yanderesungie @sk-tao @xxmarkleex

𝕹𝕮𝕿 𝕹𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: @tattooartistjaemin @warlockyong @shadowxjaemin @subbyxiaojunn @neodaddies @leextaeyong @skjaem @demon-nct @mafiaxwayv @moonlit-nono @fighter-x-taeyong @mafiajjh @mermanyuta-cb @loverboyuta @cryptidmark @yandereyutaa @daddyxuxi @iron-winwin @demigod-jaexi @storybook-nct @cyberlifexnct @yandereten @kittenrenjun @piratejjh @supernatural-superm @domyukhei @pup-hendery @ghostsuh @loverboy-hyuck @cupidlele @otterxshotaro @camboyrenjunnie @modelxjaehyun @albedo-renjun @unseelie-dejun @hinatachenle @peachy-jaemjaemin @mafiaxnct127 @mafiaxdream @prxnce-hendery [and many more]

#tw blood #tw body horror #tw violence #tw murder #tw knives #tw injury

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from the "American Psycho" film (trigger heavy)

"God, I hate this place. It's a chick's restaurant."

"Are you freebasing or what ?"

"They don't have a good bathroom to do coke in."

"You're a fucking ugly bitch. I wanna stab you to death and play around with your blood."

"I believe in taking care of myself, in a balanced diet, in a rigorous exercise routine."

"I always use an aftershave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older."

"And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and may be you can even sense our life styles are probably comparable, I simply am not there."

"Don't wear that outfit again."

"Come on. You're prettier than that."

"You don't like this, I take it."

"Do you know anything about Sri Lanka ?"

"This is crazy ! You're a fool.

"I mean, can you talk to these people or something ? I'm not getting anywhere.

"You're fucking me, and we haven't made plans."

"I'm on a lot of lithium."

"What could you possibly be up to tonight ?"

"Wear something fabulous."

"I just want a child."

"How on Earth did you get a reservation there ?"

"It looks so soft."

"Impressive. Very nice."

"You're sweating."

"Why don't you get a job ?"

"You got a negative attitude. That's what's stopping you."

"You gotta get your act together. I'll help you."

"You reek of shit. Do you know that ?"

"I don't have anything in common with you."

"I have all the characteristics of a human being-- flesh, blood, skin, hair-- but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust."

"Something horrible is happening inside of me, and I don't know why."

"My nightly bloodlust has overflowed into my days."

"I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy."

"I think my mask of sanity is about to slip."

"Mistletoe alert."

"It's a Vietnamese potbellied pig. They make darling pets."

"How you been ? Workaholic, I suppose ? Haven't seen you in a while."

"I like to dissect girls."

"Did you know I'm utterly insane ?"

"I've got a tanning bed at home. You should look into it."

"Do you have a dog ? A little chow or something ?"

"He was completely naked and standing up on the table."

"Where do I send the bastard ?"

"I hope I'm not being cross-examined here."

"It's just strange. One day, someone's walking around, to work, alive, and then-- Nothing. People just disappear."

"That's a very fine chardonnay you're drinking."

"You have a very nice body."

"Not quite blonde, are you ? More dirty blonde."

"Don't you wanna know what I do ?"

"How much did you pay for it ?"

"I don't want you to get drunk, but that's a very fine chardonnay you're not drinking."

"It was too artsy, too intellectual."

"You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument."

"Look at the camera."

"If they have a good personality and they are not great looking, then who fucking cares ?"

"There are no girls with good personalities."

"A good personality consists of a chick with a little hard body who will satisfy all sexual demands without being too slutty about things and who will essentially keep her dumb fucking mouth shut."

"The only girls with good personalities, who are smart or maybe funny or halfway intelligent or talented-- though God knows what the fuck that means-- are ugly chicks."

"Listen, what about dinner ?"

"I've seen you looking at me. I've noticed your hot body. Don't be shy."

"I've gotta return some video tapes."

"I never knew you smoked."

"I'm not sure, but I don't think dyslexia is a virus."

"It's a fucking milligram of sweetener. I wanna get high off this, not sprinkle it on my fucking oatmeal."

"Can you keep it down ? I'm trying to do drugs."

"Sorry, dude. Steroids."

"I'm into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly."

"So, where do you work out ?"

"You think I'm dumb, don't you ?"

"There's something sweet about you."

"Would you like to accompany me to dinner ? That is, if you're not doing anything."

"Let's not think about what I want. How about anywhere you want ?"

"You look great. Very fit."

"You can always be thinner, look better."

"What do you really wanna do with your life ? Just briefly, summarize. And don't tell me you enjoy working with children, okay ?"

"Well, I'd like to travel and maybe go back to school, but I don't really know. I'm at a point in my life where there seems to be so many possibilities, but I'm-- I don't know-- I'm just so unsure."

"Do you have a boyfriend ? "

"Are you seeing anyone ? I mean, seriously ?"

"It's me. Don't try to hide."

"I know I have a tendency to get involved with unavailable men."

"I think if you stay, something bad will happen. I think I might hurt you. You don't wanna get hurt, do you ?"

"I don't wanna get bruised."

"I'm not so sure about this. I had to go to Emergency after last time."

"This won't be anything like last time. I promise."

"This is nicer than your other apartment."

"If you had a platinum card, she'd give you a blowjob."

"Do you have any coke ? Or Halcyon ?"

"Let's not get lewd. I'm in no mood for a lewd conversation."

"Are you telling me you've never gotten it on with a girl?"

"No. I'm not a lesbian. Why would you think I would be into that ?"

"You're making me feel weird."

"You actually listen to Whitney Houston ?"

"Not the face!"

"My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be corrected, but I have no other way to fulfill my needs."

"You're inhuman."

"I'm in touch with humanity."

"I know my behavior can be erratic sometimes."

"What do you want me to do ? What is it that you want ?"

"If you really wanna do something for me, then stop making this scene right now."

"I'm leaving. I've assessed the situation, and I'm going."

"Drop the weapon ! Drop it now !"

"I guess I've killed maybe... 20 people."

"I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little."

"I just had to kill a lot of people !"

"I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it... this time."

"I mean, I guess I'm a pretty sick guy."

"I think you should go now."

"What did you say, you dumb bitch ?"

"Stop sounding so fucking sad."

"I'm not going anywhere unless we have a reservation."

"Keep your shirt on. Maybe lose the suspenders."

"Just fucking call them. Give me the phone. I'll do it."

"Such a boring, spineless lightweight."

"Now, where do we have reservations at ?"

"What are you so fucking zany about ?"

"I'm just a happy camper!"

"I need a scotch."

"All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused, and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed."

"My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape."

"My punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself."

"This confession has meant... nothing."

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay starters #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #american psycho

[hoerror]

Blog Promo

I'm pretty bad at introductions so this might be a mess but, you can call my Blair. It's not my real name but it fits well with my theme. I'm new here and have no idea of what the hell I'm doing. 

If you can't tell from my blog already I am completely obsessed with yanderes and the universe surrounding them. I'm also very big on horror. I made this blog mainly to talk about my garbage ocs and meet other people and their ocs, hopefully. I'm an introvert dealing with my own inner trauma and anxieties but I am a pretty laid back and easy to talk to, just a little rough around the edges. This is way for me to cope with my mental health and insecurities and trauma.

My ocs are more interesting than me and hopefully people will take interest in them but if not that's fine too. I just want to have a place to write and post about them. I have a lot more ocs but I only wanted to post one for now in case, I don't know, people didn't react well to it?...even though yandere is home to the twisted lmao.

______________________________________________________________

Name: Silas Damarion

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Height: 5'8"

Sexuality: Pansexual

Occupation: CEO

Story: Silas is the Ceo of the Demarion Agency. After his parents sudden and mysterious death he was appointed the position of CEO to the surprise of no one. Silas is the youngest of of his siblings having three older brothers. As the youngest of his siblings he was doted on by everyone and had everything handed down to him on a silver platter. The apple of his parents eyes and the source of his brothers affections. Whatever Silas wanted growing up he was given. His family smothered him in the finest of luxuries that most could only dream of. All throughout his life he has been praised by all who know him for his intelligence and natural leadership. This praise of course went to his head which caused him to develop a superiority complex and the worlds most inflated ego. To Silas, he was better than everyone and there was no one who could touch him. He might as well thought of himself as a god. 

Personality: Silas Damarion to the public is a charismatic man who is able to charm all with something as small a smile, a wink, and a wave. He was born with a silver tongue that pulls people in and makes them submit to his every command. Silas likes to reel people in, butter them up, learn everything there is to know about them - family, aspirations, insecurities, etc, etc. He hones in on these things to use to his advantage. He loves nothing more than to build people up and break them down piece by piece. He loves putting people in their place and showing them who in on the top of the world. 

Likes: Money, Fame, Attention, Sex, Traveling, 

Dislikes: Being Ignored, Being Disrespected, Lower Class, Disobedience, Children

Yandere Type: 

Clingy:

- Silas is very clingy. He wants to (HAS TO) be the only one his darling has eyes. He needs constant affection and cannot stand to be ignored. If you even think of showing someone that isn't him the slightest hint of attention he becomes enraged and that person becomes as good as dead. There is no such thing as privacy when you're with Silas. Every waking moment of your life is spent with him and only him. Kiss your friends and family goodbye because the only one in your life from now on is Silas. 

Manipulative:

- Silas is a master at manipulation. He will make you question anything and everything. He will guilt you, he will shame you, he will break you apart and leave you to pick up the pieces, watching in sick satisfaction as you stumble along the way. He uses his status and money against you - showering you in luxuries and wealth while stripping you of any financial independence so you have no choice but to depend on him. Without him you're nothing. You have no family, no friends, no money; you're nothing. He's used that silver tongue of his to ruin the lives of those who got in his way and he has no problem doing the same to you. It doesn't matter what other people think of you - his is the only opinion that matters.

Physical and Psychological Torture:

- Behind Silas's business persona he is downright cruel and manipulative. He treats those beneath him like dispensable tools that he's quick to get rid of whenever he bores of them. He enjoys causing people physical and mental pain -- it's his biggest turn on. Nothing excites him more than seeing someone sniveling on the ground as he stands over them.  No one is safe from his torture, not even his beloved little darling, in fact the abuse they face is much more grand than anyone else. You're the most beautiful to him when you're groveling to him on the ground, skin covered in bruises old and new, and tears streaming down your bloodstained face. He adores it. The sight of you crawling to him so very desperate for his praise and approval, begging and pleading for him gets him immediately hard. He'll let you suffer for a while before fucking you senseless (don't expect him to be gentle) to point you're on the verge of passing out. Only when he's had his fill of you will he get you the proper attention you need and even then, he’ll be counting down the minutes until he can do it all over again.

______________________________________________________________  

In short I hate him with a passion but would gladly give him the gluck gluck

Also maybe recommend me some blogs to check out! I’d love to follow people :)

#Yandere #Yanderecore #Yandere Community #Yan core #Yandere OC #Yandere x reader #Yandere x you #tw: yandere #Yandere oc intro #tw: manipulation #tw: abuse

[searchingforstarss]

I'm playing the ultimate spiderman game and there's these guys with bats and now I can't get the idea out of my head. could you write irondad whump h/c with peter being beaten with a bat, maybe getting his jaw broken? Love all your fics so much!!!

i’m so sorry this took me a few days anon! i adored the prompt and i really wanted to make sure i did it justice. thank you so much for sending this in, i loved writing it so i hope you enjoy it x

–

“Look, kid, I’m listening to you, trust me, and I know things are getting bad but I’m not back in town until Thursday and I just need you to wait until then. Once I’m back we can come up with a game plan together.”

“I can handle it by myself, Mister Stark, we might not have until Thursday.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, I do not, under any circumstances at all, want you going anywhere near this guy without me there. You hear me?”

“Okay, fine. I hear you.”

–

For the last three months, women have been being attacked in the middle of the night, usually in alleyways or secluded areas of parks, the kinds that most people know not to go anywhere near at night. None of this is particularly new, per se, because New York is a dangerous city and that’s why Peter spends so much time out patrolling, trying to protect the people and the city that he loves.

But it’s the same man, tall, broad shoulders, dark clothing and masked every time. Rumours have been flitting about the city that he carries a baseball bat with him.

Peter’s been dreaming of finally achieving something important, being able to break a big case all by himself, to prove to the Avengers and the NYPD that he’s capable of much more than they give him credit for.

This seemed like exactly the right opportunity, even if Tony kept telling him to leave it the hell alone. Once Peter’s successfully caught the guy, he’ll change his tune, surely. Just like the Vulture all over again.

So, he mapped it all out as carefully as he possibly could. He tracked the masked man’s movements around New York using Karen to hack into the city’s security camera network (and a whole lot of bribing and convincing her not to tell FRIDAY about his efforts because that would have Mister Stark putting an end to everything before he would even have a chance to go after the guy.)

The man operates between midnight and three am, Peter noted, and then he catches a C line train back to a ramshackle apartment block on the outskirts of Brownsville.

Peter figured that would give him a three-hour window. It all seemed quite easy, really. Wait until Mister Stark was out of town, tell May he was spending the night at Ned’s to work on a physics project and sneak out the window in his Spider-Man suit to slip into the man’s home. He thought maybe he could rummage around a bit, look for come evidence while he waited for the man to come home, only to ambush him and call the police on him in his own home. Right where he’s not expecting it.

Peter was quite proud of himself, honestly. He was so sure that he was going to prove Tony wrong, show him that he can do things like this himself.

It all would have been fine if Peter didn’t miss one tiny little detail. The man always returns home earlier on a Saturday night.

(Maybe he’s religious; maybe he has to get up early for church in the morning, Peter thinks to himself slightly deliriously, later on, wouldn’t that just be wildly ironic.)

He was caught off guard, so engrossed in the pair of bloody gloves that he’d found just lying out on the couch that he hadn’t heard the masked man creep into the apartment behind him.

Then everything went horribly, horribly wrong and he ended up here.

Wrists shackled to the wall behind him, slumped up against the ratty wallpaper in what looks like a bedroom inside of the apartment that he’s spent the last few days monitoring security footage of so closely. He really didn’t mean for this to happen. He should have listened to Tony.

Now, he’s just sitting, arms aching and splinters poking through the suit into the backs of his thighs from the neglected wooden floor below him. But honestly, most of his worries stem from the fact that this masked man is just sitting across from him. He’s settled on the edge a threadbare looking mattress, unmoving. It’s dark in the room and the only light slipping through the windows is from the flickering streetlamps outside. Peter can barely see the man anyway, face shielded by the mask, but he can tell he’s being stared at.

He’s getting sick of it. Sure, maybe he’s in a little over his head and maybe this is all just the universe punishing him for deliberately going against what Tony told him to do, but he’s over it and he wants to go home.

“Nice place you got here, but would you mind, like letting me go? I have places to be, man.”

“You’ve been pissing me off, Spider, prancing around the city in those tights, trying to get in my way. I think I’ll keep you right here.”

So he does speak. It’s a little unnerving when Peter can’t see the lips move from behind the mask.

“First of all, they’re not tights. Plus, who are you to talk, anyway? Who’s your style icon, Jason Voorhees?”

The man stares at him. “Shut up.”

“Oh c’mon. Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th? You really don’t know him? He’s kinda a psychopath, not to spoil the whole thing for you or anything. It really is a great movie, you really should sit down and give it a watch sometime.”

“I said, shut up.”

“Alright, alright. Just trying to be helpful, but clearly, I’m not here for my movie recommendations. That’s fine, I get it.”

More silence.

“Seriously, though, I’m getting kinda bored over here. What are we doing, exactly? Apart from the whole me sitting here and looking pretty while you stare at me like a serial killer thing. Now that I think about it, the resemblance between you and Jason really is uncanny. “

“I’m trying to figure out what to do with you.”

Kinda ominous, but whatever.

“Whatever you do, I’d like to be wined and dined first, preferably.”

“If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to make you,” the man growls, voice low and ripping from the back of his throat.

“That sounds a little like an innuendo and I’d really rather you didn’t.”  

“That’s it,” he mutters, turning to leave the room. Peter is relieved to have a break from dark eyes boring into him when the man returns only a minute or so later, breaking Peter’s brief solitude far too soon and oh - shit, there’s a bat clutched in his grip and his blood runs cold through his veins because holy fuck, clearly the baseball bat rumours were true.

Peter swallows down his panic.

“We’re gonna go play baseball? I’m not exactly a great shot, and you might have to let me out of these first,” Peter rattles his wrists around in the metal chains and they clink together, echoing around the sparse room, “but sounds like fun.”

“We’re not playing baseball.”

“Shame, because I passed a park on my way here and I’m pretty sure that there’s only been like, six murders there this year so that could have been a fun spot.”

“I’m going to enjoy this, you fucked up little kid.”

“Hey, I’m not a little-” Peter starts, but he’s cut off by all the air being knocked out of his lungs as he sees the bat raised in front of him.

People - mostly Tony, really - have always told him that his big mouth in the worst situations will get him in trouble someday. Today’s the day, apparently. Tony will have a great time telling him ‘I told you so,’ over this one.

His thoughts are cut off when the baseball bat collides with his jaw and a searing, fiery pain consumes his entire being. He’s engulfed by it, bones crunching and splintering underneath the unforgiving wood of the bat as it returns, again and again and again. No matter how desperately Peter begs and pleads, his pride and smart quips surrendering to the raw agony, the bat doesn’t stop.

His mouth is awash with the metallic taste of his own blood, and he spits it out uselessly around the pulverised bones of his jaw. It only fills right back up, coating the inside of his mouth with red once more. A drop trickles down his chin.

His jaw radiates a throbbing pain that courses through his veins. Dark spots dance and blur in the edge of his vision as his consciousness ebbs. At least if he’s unconscious he won’t have to feel any of this.

“Finally, peace and quiet. Let’s see how easy it is for you to run that mouth of yours now.”

Peter tries to spit another lot of blood out of his mouth in one last show of defiance, but he can’t even open his mouth properly without feeling like the pain will quite literally tear his entire skull open, let alone get the muscles to function enough to propel the blood anywhere, anyway.

Everything hurts.

He tips his head back against the wall in defeat. His eyelids droop, feeling too heavy to keep open, but the pain is worse when he closes his eyes. It’s all he has to focus on.

There’s a thunk, something heavy landing on the floorboards in front of him. Heavy footsteps leave the room. When he chances cracking one eye open, the man is gone, but the baseball bat, decorated with smears of Peter’s own crimson blood, has been tossed onto the floor in front of him.

—

There’s a crash at the door and Peter flinches back into the wall behind him. He’s not sure how long he’s been drifting in and out of consciousness and his entire jaw screams at the sudden movement but he doesn’t care because the man is back and he can’t do it again, he can’t.

He screws his eyes shut in misery and tries to prepare himself to take it because this is his fault, after all, he was stupid and he didn’t listen to Tony.

Now he’s paying the price because maybe Tony’ll be mad, maybe he won’t even come to get Peter - or even worse, maybe no one will come at all, to teach him a lesson and he’ll be left curled up here forever, shackled to the wall, bleeding and broken with the constant threat of a bat to the face looming over him the second he steps out of line.

Footsteps stop in front of him.

His lungs burn as he holds his breath unsurely. He waits for the sound of the bat being picked up off the floor in front of him but it never comes. Instead, it sounds like it’s kicked away. Peter resists the urge to cringe away because god, that’s maybe that’s even worse. The man could be sick of the bat already, maybe it’s not enjoyable enough for him anymore - not that it was ever enjoyable for Peter but he thinks it was probably better than a knife to the chest or a bullet to the head.

Based on his research, Peter is pretty sure that this man hasn’t killed anyone yet, hasn’t gone quite that far, but there’s a first time for everything.

He can vaguely sense movement in front of him. Someone is getting closer and he doesn’t dare to move or breath, knowing that he’s completely unable to protect himself with his arms compromised behind him.

Then there’s a voice.

“Hey, kid. Wanna open those eyes for me?”

Tony.

He blinks his heavy eyes open, doing what the man asks because avoiding doing so was what got him in this whole mess in the first place. Sure enough, when he does, he finds Tony crouched in front of him. He’s in a three-piece suit, glasses hastily shoved down the front of his shirt, the Iron-Man armour standing sentry behind him.

He stares.

Tony came. He’s here. Even though he was stupid and he didn’t listen and he fucked things up. Tony only forgave him after the Vulture because he saved the day. He did what he was meant to do, as a superhero. Tonight he’s only managed to piss off a notorious serial-attacker and consequently screw up his jaw past even the best abilities of his healing.

He needs to apologise, he needs Tony to see how sorry he is for everything, because maybe if he does Tony might get him out of here. Try as he might, he can’t form proper words around his broken jaw. Instead, whines and mumbles slip past his lips incoherently, eyes blown wide with all the words he wants to say but can’t force out.

“Shh, no buddy, don’t strain yourself, it’s all okay, everything is okay.”

Tony is lowering himself onto the floor next to Peter, reaching up to undo his shackles from the wall with a small rusted key. Peter doesn’t know where he got it from, but he’d entirely forgotten about the ache in his arms from the restraints, anyway, too focused on his jaw. He shakes them out at his sides.

If Peter is being uncuffed, then surely that must mean that Tony is considering getting him out of here. Peter so desperately wants to get out of here. What if Tony won’t take him with him if he doesn’t know exactly how sorry Peter is?

“Pl’se. S…s-s’rry.”

“No, Pete, it’s okay.”

Peter shakes his head frantically, the movement irritating his jaw but he continues anyway. He needs to keep apologising. He doesn’t want Tony to leave him here, he’s already in an insurmountable amount of pain and he doesn’t think he can survive anymore if the man with the bat comes back.

He won’t argue with Tony ever again. He’d be willing to promise anything if he could form words around the stabbing pain and shattered bones of his jaw.

“W’nna go h’me. W’th you. Pl’se. Don’t l’ve me.”

“I’m taking you home, I promise,” Tony says, never taking his eyes away from Peter’s. He’s strong and steady in a way that Peter definitely isn’t right now. It’s reassuring. “I just don’t want to risk flying and irritating that nasty looking jaw of yours, buddy. You’re not bleeding out so we’re safe to just wait here, you’re fine. Brucie and the medics will be here soon and we’ll be home before you know it.”

“‘M’st’r St’rk.”

“I’m here. You’re okay,” Tony murmurs and Peter lets the gentle tone wash over him, settling over his ragged and aching body, soothing like a balm.

He reaches a hand out to tangle it in the stiff fabric of Tony’s suit jacket sleeve. It’s not the softened cotton of his lab outfits that Peter is so used to but it will do. It’s enough.

Tony leans over and as gently as he can, lowers Peter down so his head is resting in his lap. “Get comfy down there for a minute, Pete. Won’t be long ‘til we’re out of this dump.”

Peter nods weakly. Now that Tony’s here, this dump isn’t nearly half as bad as it was only half an hour ago. Home sounds good though. He’d kill for a warm bed and some painkillers. Maybe he can even bribe Tony to keep this from May for a day or two so he can avoid being violently chewed out for lying to her about his and Ned’s physics project - though, he’s sure there’s a very slim chance of convincing him of that. He and May are a formidable force when combined.

Hands find his shoulders and they rub slowly at the tenseness there and the back of his neck with the sort of tenderness that only comes out when Peter’s upset or in a considerable amount of pain. Right now probably counts as both.

Peter doesn’t want to talk anymore, doesn’t want to risk aggravating his broken bones further now that Tony’s comfort is giving him something to focus on rather than the never-ending pain. He just wants to lie here and listen to him talk until it’s time to go home.

“Gotta tell you, kid, you gave me a hell of a scare. Your vitals went all wonky. I couldn’t get the baby monitor footage without your mask on but I could still track you. I owe the Secretary of State another meeting since I crashed out of our last one. Maybe I’ll drag you out there with me to get you back for this little stunt, huh? It’ll bore you to death, that’s a promise,” Tony chuckles. There’s no malice to his words, and Peter lets himself relax further back against him.

He was stupid, but it’s okay because Tony is here and Tony is looking after him.

Tony won’t let anyone hurt him anymore.

—

When Peter can talk properly and form full sentences again two days later, after bone reconstruction surgery and lots of help from his accelerated healing, the first words out of his mouth, in true Peter Parker fashion, are, “I’m so, so sorry, Mister Stark.”

Tony shushes him almost immediately. “Nuh-uh, none of that. God, you’re a stupidly self-sacrificing kid, have I ever told you that?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“You’re lucky I love you then, huh, bud?”

“Mmm. Guess I am.”

“If you ever pull something like this again, I might have to reconsider.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

Tony’s silent for a moment. “Yeah, you got me there. I won’t.”

#ask #anon #irondad #irondad fic #my writing

[hyunnielix]

The Night We Met

Based on the song ‘The Night We Met’ By Lord Huron

Hawthorne and Miss Robichaux's Academy become intertwined, helping each other by learning off one and other. However, you learn about Michaels plan and have to bid him a farewell unable to support him through his decisions.

Pairing: Michael x Y/N

Warnings: Best-Friend!Michael, Painful Angst, Heartbreak, Choking, TW: Physical Abuse, Toxic relationships

Word Count: 2k

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

“Familiarize yourselves with each other briefly, shortly dinner will commence,” Cordelia announced re-explaining the current situation as if you were stupid, she wore all white with a classy but overdramatic cape to signify how she was the Supreme.

You sat wedged between Zoe and Madison as your small coven sat on the multiple couches spread around the, you almost wanted to call it a study, books filled the shelves all the way up to the ceiling. It was definitely an acquired taste with an outdated fireplace along with a twisted metal staircase leading to another compartment of the enormous place.

Your whole coven was waiting for the warlocks, who seemed to be taking their sweet time arriving. This was their damn academy you’d think they would be a little bit more professional.

“Punctuality, males have none do they?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes while you fiddled with your hands that were placed uncomfortably on your lap. You tended to become bored easily so sitting for long periods of wasted time was definitely not your forte.

You were the most hesitant towards the intertwining of both the academies, not wanting the males with their inflated ego’s and cocky attitudes ruin your reputation and your coven’s. 

“Y/N watch your tongue around them, although we are farther superior than their kind we have to honour the truce we have recently agreed to,” Myrtle scolded you, her orange crimped hair moving as she shook her head adjusting the glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose, pushing them up slightly.

“You wouldn’t want to start a world war three already, would you?” Madison deadpanned, removing her gaze off her nearly perfect manicured nails to side-eye you as a smirk grew on her face.

“Depends, I’m in the mood for a little hell-raising,” You arrogantly smiled at Cordelia, tilting your head as if to test the waters of her tolerance.

Multiple pairs of shoes clicking against the tiles caught your attention, a short man donning a top hat and maroon black cape stood before all of the warlocks who were dressed in proper tuxedos eagerly waiting to be let in, you assumed he was the chancellor.

“Ariel, Behold,” Cordelia introduced, gesturing to enter the room as all of your fellow witches arose from their seats getting ready to probably playfully entice them and flirt their way to death.

Unphased by all of the males, you slithered your way to the back corner of the room, you back hitting the books on the way down to the floor letting your body collapse with exhaustion.

Trying and failing at keeping yourself entertained, you closed your eyes letting out a frustrated sigh as the noise of chattering started to get on your nerves.

A cough broke you from your trance, Gaze starting at a pair of shiny black shoes you followed up the figure to be met with a strawberry blonde haired blue-eyed prince charming look-alike.

“Being unsociable at a gathering isn’t lady-like,” He observed a ghost of a smile on his pinkish tinted lips as he leant over you almost intimidatingly.

“Is that all you came to say?” You questioned, peering up at the warlock with blatant uninterest while balling yourself up even more uncomfortably.

“Sorry, how rude of me I’m Michael Langdon,” He introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to reach for, like a gentleman.

Taking his hand in yours, he helped pull you up from the floor the personal space was almost non-existent as you began to introduce yourself to him.

“Y/N, L/N,” You replied, furrowing your brows in cautiousness unable to hide the faint blush on your cheeks, you weren’t used to people paying attention to you.

Fast forward to today, eavesdropping was something you casually did and definitely weren’t proud of but in some cases, it had previously saved you from the peril of this godforsaken world. 

Noticing Michael’s absence from dinner, you decided to follow him loosely after he passed the dining room, confused to as why he would be going to the surface at this time of night.

The atmosphere was freezing, the wind brushing up against the trees and fresh air entering your lungs almost made you feel normal.

Hiding by the entrance of the academy, Michael paused gazing over his shoulder, for a second you stopped breathing surely thinking he had spotted you.

Continuing on, he began to skip towards a figure in the distance who was significantly shorter than him, squinting you tried to identify them without any luck.

Sneaking in the opposite direction, you decided to make a bolt towards the trees as it would give you enough camouflage and noise range so you could hear the both of them.

“Oh my boy, look at you, you’re skin and bones, you’re wasting away do they even feed you?” She asked, releasing him from the tight embrace they currently shared.

Michael smiled a true genuine joy-struck expression on his face, you hadn’t seen that smile in ages. You guessed the woman dressed in all black was someone precious to him from his childhood that he never spoke about.

“I’m fine just tell me you took care of the problem,” He fretted, placing his hands on both of her shoulders desperately praying for a good outcome, the predicament he was in had caused him more harm than he bargained for.

“Your problem is now an overstacked country barbeque, you can bury him in a shoe box if they can find him,” She rambled on, laughing a bit as relief flooded his face.

Letting out a small gasp, you covered your mouth petrified that you would accidentally give away your position. Who did they kill?

“Good, these people are the only ones who could pose a threat to me, once I become supreme I can destroy them from within and eliminate their whole fucking coven, then the road is clear for what I'm supposed to do.” He passionately spoke, his eyes nearly igniting with fire as he tried to reassure himself and his ally. 

You didn’t understand why wouldn’t he tell you, that's what being best friends meant right? Keeping secrets from each other was beneath the both of you or so you thought.

“So stop worrying, look how easy it was for you to win their trust and get into their school,” The woman exclaimed, convincing him that everything was going according to plan.

Eyes widening and having heard enough, you scrambled to your feet making a bit more noise than you intended to do whilst trying to escape being unnoticed. Gaining both the attention of him and the woman, you continued to sprint for your life back to the academy.

“Y/N?” Michael whispered, sighing once he saw your fleeing body before returning his gaze to Ms Mead.

“I’ll take care of her,” He muttered, reassuring her before taking off after you.

By the time you had returned to the academy, everyone was asleep but the thoughts racing in your head prevented you having some piece of mind.

You knew Michael had seen you, it was only a matter of time before he came to talk to you. Sensing his presence, you stood up refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Y/N, what you heard, I was going to tell you eventually-,” He scratched his head, awkwardly smiling hoping that you would understand.

“Stop it, You can’t do this.” You warned, paralyzed in the spot you were in. Your brain was screaming at you to leave but your body stayed put.

“We could be together, rule together,” He explained, furrowing his brows as your reaction astounded him, he was not expecting this from you.

He was being naive again, it was one of his many faults.

“You don’t understand Michael!” You shouted, the sudden outburst making him take a step back unaware of your assertive side. You had never raised your voice at him once in the time you knew each other.

“I’m not betraying my whole entire coven, my friends and family just for you.” Your chest heaved, head dizzying as you tried to calm yourself down so you could suppress the oncoming panic attack, your hands were already shaking and sweaty.

To him, those words felt like poison on his tongue, he almost flinched before reciprocating with an even more heartbreaking sentiment.

“Am I not worth it?” He seethed snarling in your direction, unclenching his fist as he didn’t want to hurt you, trying to control his bubbling anger.

“Because I’m sick and fucking tired of being told I am nothing, you don’t understand how hard it is with everyone underestimating me and having to deal with the constant abandonment of people I care about,” He raised his voice as almost as if he was scolding you gesturing with his hands almost violently.  

“In the end, they always leave,” He bitterly stated, his icy blue eyes softening as he left you completely and utterly speechless.

You tilted your head feeling pity- or was it sympathy for him? Half of your mind was fighting against all the reasons you should stay and the other half was creating new outcomes for the same deadly choices.

“I’m sorry, but I have to let you go, that is my final decision.” You shakily exhaled, backing away slowly from him your gaze focused elsewhere as you didn’t want to see his reaction to your rejection.

“But I love you,” He pleaded as if he could use it as an excuse for all the wrongdoings he was going to commit. 

Clasping your hand over your mouth, you couldn’t help but let out a cry allowing the pent-up overwhelming feelings wash over you. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as he pulled you into his chest allowing you to use him as comfort.

“Why must you do this to me?,” You questioned, banging your fist against his chest until finally pushing him away from you almost disgustedly.

“You’re the antichrist, you’re incapable of love,” You regretted the words that came out of your mouth, but nothing could take them back it didn’t take you long to connect the dots.

“How do you know that?” He inquired, resting his hands by his side as he clenched his jaw looking down almost in shame.

He had been acting up for months, being secretive as well as muttering Latin words during the night that once you wrote down realised were satanic ritual spells.

“This is just another manipulation tactic,” You mumbled on, trying to believe in the words you were saying.

“No, Y/N you can’t possibly believe that,” He argued, his chin trembled not wanting to take another step or he believed it would scare you off. 

“You want to take over the world, exterminate society and every single living human or supernatural being with a family who is worthy of being loved just like you were,” You hissed, any hint of remorse for him disappearing in the snap of your fingers.

“Were?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly he was looking even more broken with every word you uttered.

“Don’t make this any harder for me,” You exhaled, refusing to wipe the remnants of the tears off your cheeks while you stared blankly at him.

“Even if I did take you with me, you don’t deserve to live,” He laughed almost psychotically, striding towards you his eyes flickered black his demeanour had changed in less than a second.

He reached out, clasping his palm around your throat he began to put immense pressure on it lifting your body weight in the process you dangled from above, struggling to breathe as you fought against his grip, letting out choked cries.

“M-Michael, please you don’t need to do this,” You forced out, he was cutting off the circulation around your body.

“Oh but I do I’m the anti-christ remember darling? That’s exactly what you called me am I not correct?” He asked, leaning his face closer to you so you could feel his breath.

“You’re not the Michael I used to know-,” You cried out, barely holding onto conscientious he finally released you, your body collapsing like a house of cards on the floor head lolling back as you tried to stay awake.

Bringing your hand up to feel your throat, you whimpered the last thing you saw was his face but instead it was pasty white, cracked and unhuman like. A face of a demon.

#ahs #michael langdon #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x fem!reader #ahs murder house #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #ahs season 8 #ahs season 3 #cody fern #tate langdon #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon smut #michael ahs #ahs hotel #ahs8 #ahs spoilers #michael langdon fluff #ahs fanfiction #michael langdon fanfiction #evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #madison montgomery #cordelia goode #zoe benson #kyle spencer

[bizarrewritings-blog]

Lie to me - C.E.

Youngblood Series

Chris Evans x Reader

'It's three a.m. and the moonlight's testing me. If i can make it 'til dawn then it won't be hard to see, that I ain't happy.'

Word count: 1,870

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Little bit of Swearing

A/N: My first fic that is neither Sebastian nor Bucky whooo!

A Breakup was never an easy thing to go through. It was hard, full of pain and sorrow. At least that's how it should be, most of the time. That's how it has always been for Chris at least. He had been through some break ups before, being both the person who left and the person who's been left. He knew that it was hard for both sides, leaving a time of love and happiness behind and just moving on has always been a struggle. That were his experiences.

His last relationship lasted a whole of three years, and they've been the happiest in his life so far. He wanted to spend every second of his day with you, rearranging your flights so you could stay at his side a little longer whenever you visited him when he was away for filming. He believed you could've been the one for him, the one he had searched for all these years.

But that quickly changed when you decided that he wasn't enough. You two had a massive fight after you said you wouldn't be able to visit him in Europe, where he would be filming the next couple month. You had argued that you were busy as well. When he didn't calm down, you decided to leave and stay at a friend's house. After that, you only came back to get your things. You two were officially over.

It had been almost a month since you walked out of Chris' life, but he was still pretty much a mess. He still didn't know how he should survive the filming with the feelings he still had for you dragging him down.

If all this wasn't enough, a rumor that you had already found a new guy spread on the internet. There were pictures as well, but it was impossible to identify the man. But it was enough to make Chris feel sick. He couldn't control as his mind kept imagining you in his arms. Him touching you where he used to touch you, kissing you where he used to. His thoughts went farther, imagining you in the bedroom with him. Doing the things only he hoped to do to you. The mental imagines of you two made Chris want to throw up. He didn't deserve to feel like shit while you were already sleeping with another man. It wasn't fair.

The vibration of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He blindly reached for it from his spot on the couch, accepting the call without looking at the screen. "Yeah?" He rasped. He hasn't talked to anyone in a while. Apart from Dodger, obviously. "Evans! How are you holding up?" Chris blinked a couple times, confused who the hell was calling him. "Downey?" "Who else would it be?" Robert's voice was dripping with sarcasm, making Chris roll his eyes. "What do you want?" "I already said. Wanted to ask how you've been. With the break up and everything. We haven't seen you in a while." Chris sighed, his eyes closing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't need people to be concerned for him. He obviously wasn't well, but that was his problem.

"Look, we care for you." Robert continued as Chris didn't answer. "There's a party at this fancy restaurant a lot of people are attending. I just want you to finally get out of the house." "I'm getting out of the house often enough." Chris muttered. "For any other reason than taking Dodger out?" Chris stayed silent, signaling Robert he was right. "You're coming. This weekend. I'll drag you there myself if I have to." Robert hung up before Chris could protest. He groaned in annoyance, letting the phone drop on the couch. He had no desire to go out. But having Robert come to him to drag him there would be even worse.

~

As the evening arrived, he didn't know why but he was nervous. There would be tons of people telling him how sorry they were that it didn't work out with you. He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts of you from his mind. He wouldn't let you ruin his evening, he would actually try to have fun for once. He had showered, trimmed his beard and put on one of his favorite suits, a dark blue set with a complimenting bow tie. Robert had texted him the adress and time earlier, so he took a deep breath before making his way to the event.

~

Chris almost didn't regret his decision as the evening went well, he actually managed to laugh and have fun. Only a few people tried to talk to him about the break up, but most of the time he could avoid the topic. Until you suddenly stepped in as well, another man at your side. He stopped the conversation he was currently holding with Sebastian and Anthony, his gaze shamelessly running over your body as his jaw slacked. You wore the dress he always loved on you, it hugged you curves in all the right places and it made him want to scream. Then your eyes met his, and the world stopped for a second. There were just him and you.

God, how he had missed you.

He send you small, forced smile as his heart thudded so loudly he was sure his friends around him could hear it as well.

You didn't return his smile.

Your gaze left his, continuing your way with the guy Chris couldn't recognize. His face dropped, a sigh escaping his lips. "She's not worth it." Sebastian tried to lift him up. Chris gave him a sad smile. "How long since you broke up? A month? And she already has a new guy?" Anthony added, a disgusted look on his face. "Talking her down isn't what he needs right now." Sebastian argued, rolling his eyes. "What else am I supposed to say? That it's completely fine that she comes here looking like this?" Anthony protested back. Chris clenched his jaw at the two of them. "I'm gonna get some air." He simply said, leaving his friends behind as he made his way to the terrace. For a split second, he let his eyes fall to you again. You were laughing, your eyes glowing from the light and it made his stomach clench.

As he got outside, he immediately took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air. It was already night, the dimly lit area instantly calming his nerves. Surprisingly, noone was there apart from him. He sunk down on one of the chairs, leaning back and closing his eyes. His mood was at the bottom again, all because of you.

"Is this seat taken?" An all to familiar voice made his eyes snap open. There you were, a small smile on your face as you pointed to the chair on the other side of the small, round table. He tried to gather his thoughts, you being close to him, talking to him again, made his head spin in excitement. "I-I, of course!" He stuttered. You sat down, inhaling the cool air just like he did a couple minutes ago.

"You look beautiful." The words left his mouth faster than he he could think, a dark blush immediately covering his face. You chuckled lightly and he felt his heart swell in his chest. He had missed this sound. "I wanted to apologize." You began, eyes on your lap. He furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do y-" "How I treated you. How I left you for the most stupid reason." You chewed nervously on your bottom lip, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't mean it to end like it did." Chris nodded as he let his eyes fall to his lap as well. He mentally thanked the owner of the restaurant for the lack of lights outside. Through that you could at least barely see the sadness on his face.

"Who's the guy?" You tensed at his question, your lip back between your teeth. "Someone. Doesn't matter." Chris' gaze fell back on her, hope in his eyes. "Do you regret it?" Your eyes met his again, your brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" "Breaking up with me." You jaw clenched as you looked away again, feeling vulnerable under his stare. "Chris, I-" "Do you still love me?" There was sadness and hope in his voice, making you gulp. "Chris, please. I'm-" "Just lie to me if you have to, i don't care." His pleading eyes never left you as you nervously pulled on the fabric of your dress. Your eyes closed as you breathed in before looking at him, a serious expression on youe face.

"I still love you."

Without another word, you stood up to go inside, leaving him by himself. He sighed heavily, running his hand over his face. He would never be able to get over you.

~

It was the middle of the night when the dorbell rang. You were already asleep, but the constant ringing noise woke you up. "What the fuck?" You mumbled to yourself, rubbing your eyes as you checked the time. It was almost 3am. Who in hell would come around at that time?

Since your friend wasn't there to get the door, you dragged yourself out of bed. The ringing didn't stop for a second and it started to get on your nerves. "It's okay, Jesus Christ, I'm coming!" You opened the door, ready to shout at whoever was there for ringing the dorbell like a maniac. But when your eyes met all to familiar, warm blue ones, you couldn't say anything. You haven't seen Chris since your encounter at the restaurant about 2 days ago.

Chris' expression was unsure, but soft at the same time. "Did you mean it?" He simply asked, his gaze never leaving yours. "I-What?" "That you still love me. Did you say it because it's the truth or because i asked you to?" He stepped closer, but you didn't dare to move. He towered over you, his intense gaze boring into you. "The truth." He continued. "... Please." You sighed, your head falling foward. "I meant it."

It only took a second before Chris lifted your face to his by your chin, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. Immediately, your arms flew to his neck while his carefully squeezed your waist. It was all too damn familiar. You both almost melted on the spot, the feeling of being so close to each other again relieving. His lips curled into a smile against yours, causing you to smile as well.

Chris pulled away to look at you, a grin on his face. He was finally happy again. "I'm sorry." You mumbled. He shook his head. "Don't be. We both made mistakes, it doesn't matter." You smiled slightly before nodding. "But that you got another guy was mean." He added, his expression turning serious. "Only to make you jealous." You shrugged. "We didn't even kiss or anything." He sighed in relief at your statement. His lips found yours again, deepening the kiss this time. He still smiled into the kiss, he couldn't help it. He was finally back at his happy place.

#youngblood series #5sos #5 seconds of summer #writing series #chris evans #christopher robert evans #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #angst #fluff #smut #mcu cast #marvel #marvel actors #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic #sebastian stan #robert downey jr #anthony mackie #lie to me #bizarrewritings

[soovaryit]

Bear with me here I'm a Tumblr noob

The most difficult part of beginning this is trying to remember where it began, because chronic pain has been deeply ingrained in my life since I can remember.  Another thing I hesitate over is the eye rolls it might already have received – when you’ve lived your life not always in the best health emotionally and physically, you become hyper aware (and anxious) of peoples impressions of you. I have tried to carefully manage these impressions all my life. But I am tired. This is in no way intended to be a sob story.  I am a hugely privileged and happy person with a life full of wonderful supportive people who astound me with their patience and love every day. What this is, is brutal honesty on a subject I have never felt able to be truly honest about. And that is living with constant pain from conditions that cannot be cured. It is a specific set of problems with no real answers and as far as I can see, something that is not addressed in the truthful way that it should be. It makes sense to me to start now, today, as I’m sitting here feeling some sort of manic no-fucks-left-to-give urge to put it all out there. I have always told myself I should write about it because reading about other people’s experiences has always given me new strength and insight made me feel less isolated. Physically, I feel the usual: aching in my back, legs, shoulder, fatigue and slight nausea but today is a good day. I have just returned from the doctor after at least an hour of reviewing medication, discussing the next invasive investigations (that have become so routine) as well as blood tests. This is because of a sudden a new symptom: a rash that looks like bleeding under the skin coupled with intense itching and dermatographism (he suggests I write my name on my skin to ‘impress my friends’ and of course I immediately try it out – I appreciate a doctor with a sense of humour). He suggests weakened capillaries, possible problems with liver function and stresses the importance of no more anti-inflammatory tablets and no more alcohol if I want to limit the already sky high risk of bleeding in my gut. In front of him are my medical history and list of medications and he almost laughs as he tells me that it has got to a very complicated point. Several of them interact, one that keeps my moods up and another that keeps my pain down (as much as it is ever down) and then there’s the fact that this new rashy itching ridiculousness could actually be a side effect of the SSRI’s and be worsened by the anti inflammatories that I have been taking for 18 years without so much as a days break. More medication leads to more complication, everything has a side effect and going cold turkey means days in bed wondering what the point is of ever getting out of it. At this point in the post, I’m already apprehensive of sounding overly dramatic as well as feeling guilty because I know that people suffer much worse than I do. But over the years I’ve become expert at dismissing my own pain as well as not giving myself any credit for coping with it, and that has revealed to be a very unhealthy and damaging attitude for me. Anyone with chronic pain will understand the intensity of the situation and how it becomes a part of you whether you resist it or not. Anyone who hasn’t experienced it can try their best to understand or dismiss it as an exaggeration, which is their prerogative. I grew up in a typically British culture of ‘get on with it’, ‘don’t be a malingerer’ and ‘get it sorted’.  These are all very helpful attitudes until you reach a point where emotionally and physically there is no getting it sorted. When the three main problems (endometriosis, sclerosing osteitis and anxiety/depression) are incurable, you have to adopt a significantly different approach. On a daily basis, I look fine, so I am expected to act fine and as soon as that mask starts to slip I see the people around me getting frustrated. I know they do. I can sense the irritation when I call in sick to work, again, and bail on a night out and wince in pain as soon as I get out of bed and attempt to explain to the person I’ve just been on a date with that it’s more complicated than us having a stress free, casual situationship, whether I want to or not. These feelings are not exclusive to me or my conditions, they are something that people with all kinds of mental and physical difficulties will feel but that people generally don’t want to talk about or even listen to.  The feeling that your body and mind is inherently broken means you run the risk of being involved with the wrong people, in my experience.  At my lowest point I searched for some kind of sustainable romantic connection (that I often don’t feel capable of having) in all the wrong places and at the expense of my own wellbeing. It’s all fun and #romance until the point at which I seem to shut down because I don’t feel comfortable with the burden that I am on a partner.  My last long term relationship was with someone truly kind and understanding and patient and even though it broke down for a number of reasons, the pain was a big factor. Unless you experience it, which I would never wish on anyone, it is the most difficult thing to get your head around. Long term pain, fatigue and depression affects every single aspect of life: work, leisure, socialising, friendships, relationships, sex, your personality, the way you feel about your body, your finances (people generally don’t want to employ someone who can’t get out of bed for a week every month).   There’s also the fact that long term physical problems often come with mental health problems. The two are intrinsically linked and, without fail, ignored by every medical professional I have ever seen. Endometriosis in particular is everything to do with your hormones – how to manage them, control them, stop them, start them - and so you pump your body full of medications, contraceptives, coils, herbal remedies, even alcohol just to forget it’s there for a while until that just causes more discomfort than it’s worth. I don’t have a particular point to make here other than needing understanding, and more than anything the support to tell the truth and be listened to. Chronic pain might give you the reputation of being lazy, a whinger, a hypochondriac, a party pooper and quite frankly it is boring as fuck to defend yourself against that but I am truly done. This time last year I applied for universities but felt pessimistic about what the future would be like living like this. Today I am studying a subject that gives me purpose in a city that I love. The list of things that I appreciate about my life and where I’m at is endless, and thankfully I’ve reached a point where I can truly appreciate how lucky I am. But every day is difficult, a balancing act that I often feel I’m losing. If it’s not my body it’s my mind, or both, or people around me not understanding, or explaining for the thousandth time what endometriosis and chronic pain sufferers have to deal with. Through here I will continue to write openly and honestly about handling a difficult set of circumstances. It is for anyone who might take any amount of comfort in it or just wants to be able to have a rant without judgement. I will not be telling you that cutting out wheat, dairy, caffeine, sugar and alcohol is the only option or that you should do yoga a thousand times a week or take sole responsibility for your health and wellbeing because for so long trying to perfect my lifestyle drove me insane. It is hard, an uphill battle where all you need is good people, empathy and a never ending supply of shitty tv and chocolate on those bed bound days and the knowledge that there will be better days even when it doesn’t feel like it.

#endometritis #chronic illness #chronicpain #endometriosisawareness #anxiety #depression