#motherfucker gave me an anxiety attack

[stephstars08]

Still Alive ~ Chapter Seven

Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Ghostface Attack, Blood, Angst a tiny bit of Fluff, Anxiety, Trauma, Mention of Murder, Mental Breakdown, Trust Issues, Death Threats, Weapons, and Cliff Hanger. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Word Count: 2,861

Author’s Note: Hello Everyone! I hope everyone’s holiday weekend is going good so far! Just wanted to update you all on more of my writing. The story I am working on right now won’t be ready to post till I would say the middle of June. It’s just taking me a little bit longer to write it since the chapters are going to be long. I apologize, I will try to stay active on here by posting other types of media. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Already warning you now that this chapter and next chapter will be all angst. Also they both will be ending in a cliffhanger! Next chapter will be posted on Friday!

When Kirby notified Sam and Tara that the killer is at Gale’s home, they stole Detective Bailey’s cop car to get to Gale as fast as they could. Y/N was sitting in the passenger seat while she gave Kirby the directions while she drove as fast as she could. Ethan, Chad, and Mindy stayed in the back of the van. As Kirby drove Y/N kept reassuring herself that her mom was going to be okay. Her mom is a fighter. Her mom has been attacked by every single Ghostface and has turned out just fine. But at the same time, that’s what she thought about when her dad went to save Tara. She couldn’t help but worry that when she gets there, her mom could be laying on the floor all bloody like her father. Y/N can’t lose Gale. Gale is the only blood relative that she has left. She can’t lose her mom the same way she lost her dad.

“Right there.” Y/N pointed to the building her mom lives in. Kirby parked the truck right in front of the building. Y/N quickly took off her seatbelt and got out of the van. She ignored everyone calling out to her and ran into the building. She knew it was stupid going up there without a weapon knowing Ghostface could still be up there, but she didn’t care. She had to know if her mom was okay. She was going to take the elevator but knew that it could take too long so she bolted to the stairs. She ran all the way up the stairs to the top floor since her mom lives in the penthouse. When she got to the front door it was wide open. Y/N wasn’t going to lie, she was fucking terrified to go in there, but she knew she had to suck it up. When she walked inside the penthouse, she saw Sam and Tara watching a duo of paramedics working on someone. When Y/N got closer she saw it was her mom laying lifelessly on the floor with multiple stab wounds on her body.

“No!” Y/N cried as her eyes flooded with tears. Sam and Tara looked over at her, with tears in their eyes as well. Y/N fell to her knees and cried. Sam and Tara ran over to her to comfort her. Sam was on her right while Tara was on her left. Tara wrapped both of her arms around Y/N while Sam held onto one of her hands. Tara moved Y/N’s head up against her chest trying to shield her vision from the paramedics who were doing CPR on Gale. Sam kept apologizing to Y/N but due to her heavy crying she couldn’t answer. Every time she opened her mouth only sobs came out.

Yes, Y/N was sad but the more she cried the more rage started to fill her body. She knew that rage because it was the same rage she felt when she found out about her dad. The same rage she felt when she saw her dad’s dead body in a black bag. When she finds the motherfucker that did this, they are going to have their blood on her hands.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N was sitting in the ICU waiting room by herself while everyone else was in the regular emergency room. They let Y/N ride in the back of the ambulance with her mom while Kirby drove everyone else to the hospital. After Kirby dropped them off, she went back to the crime scene to do some more investigation.

As Y/N sat in the chair she had venom running through her veins. She was furious. All of that sadness faded away as the anger took over. When will this fucking nightmare end? She squeezed the armrests of the chair so hard her knuckles turned white. She kept hearing her father’s voice in her head telling her not to break but she was breaking. She wasn’t even trying to calm herself down.

“Ms. Riley.” She heard her name being called in the empty room. When she looked up, she saw a doctor. “Are you Ms. Weathers daughter?” The doctor asked her in a curious tone. Y/N just gave him a slow nod. “We got her stable and we’re just about to take her into surgery.” The doctor told her which did ease her mind just a little bit. When Gale got to the hospital her breathing was shallow so they knew they had to get her stable and her breathing under control before they could nurse her wounds. Y/N’s grip on the armrests loosened a bit at that news. “When she’s out of surgery we will give you another update.” The doctor told her which she answered with another nod. Once the doctor left the room she stood up and made her way to the other waiting room which was at the front entrance of the hospital.

When Y/N got there she saw Sam was crying again and the group, especially Tara, was trying to calm her down. Y/N just stood there looking at her friends. She can tell that they also looked completely drained like she was, but the only difference was that they looked scared. Y/N wasn’t feeling scared at all. “Y/N.” Ethan said being the first one to see her just standing there staring at them. Y/N finally walked over to them.

“How is Gale?” Sam asked her full of worry. “Yeah, is she going to be, okay?” Tara asked, matching her sister’s tone. “They got her stable, she’s going into surgery right now.” Y/N answered with zero emotion on her face and in her tone. “Okay, what about you? Are you okay?” Mindy asked, noticing right away that something was going on in Y/N’s head. “You know, I am so fucking tired of being asked that question.” Y/N answered in a snappy tone which took all her friends by surprise. Usually, she comes up with a lie, so her friends don’t worry about her, but she wasn’t herself at this moment. She felt like she was dead inside, and she wasn’t going to hide it. “Y/N- “Chad started but she cut him off right away. “I’M NOT OKAY!” Y/N yelled as her hands turned into fists. She wasn’t looking at any of her worried friend’s faces. She was staring straight at the glass doors. It was good thing that it was just them in the room.

“I’m going to go find this fucker!” Y/N hissed and started her way towards the doors. “Y/N!” Ethan called out to her, but she kept on walking. He let out a sigh as he quickly rushed over to her. Before she could walk out the doors Ethan grabbed one of her arms and turned her around to face him. “Ethan, let me go!” Y/N told him in a warning tone. “No! You need to stay here with your mom!” Ethan told her in a stern tone. “But- “Y/N started but he cut her off. “I know you want to find this fucker and we will but right now you need to be here with your mom.” Ethan told her with a stern look in his brown eyes. When she looked into his brown eyes that’s when she realized he was right. That’s when she finally jumped back into reality. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves down. “Okay.” Y/N said with a slow nod.

“We’re going to be here for a while so how about I go to your apartment and bring you a fresh pair of new clothes.” Ethan said as he rubbed his hands up and down both her arms. When he said that, that’s when she realized she had her mom’s blood all over her shirt from the ambulance ride. I guess when she was holding her mom’s bloody hand, she wiped the blood off on her shirt without realizing it because of how emotionless she was. “Please, don’t go by yourself.” Y/N said in a pleading tone, finally showing some kind of emotion since arriving at the hospital. She looked at him with a soft gaze. “We’ll go with him.” Chad said walking over to them with Mindy following right behind him. “We’ll be back as soon as possible, okay?” Ethan said to her. Y/N just gave him another nod. She knew if she said anything she would beg him to stay. He’s the only one that’s been keeping her grounded. He gave her a soft kiss on the top of her head and walked out the doors. Chad and Mindy followed right behind him.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Sam were the only ones sitting in the waiting room together since Tara went to get drinks and snacks from the vending machine. “Y/N.” Sam said to her in a soft tone. “Yeah?” Y/N said looking over at her. “I’m so sorry.” Sam said to her for like the hundredth time as her eyes started to tear up. Sam wasn’t looking at Y/N since ever since they sat down her eyes were glued to the floor. “Why do you keep saying that?” Y/N asked with confusion in her tone. “Because all of this shit is happening because of me.” Sam told her with frustration in her tone looking over at her. “Sam, this is not your fault, you didn’t ask for this shit to happen.” Y/N told her. “But your dad got killed saving me.” Sam said as a few tears streamed down her face. “He died doing what he loved, he died being a hero.” Y/N corrected her. “Don’t listen to those assholes online. As long as the people who love you believe in you and know who you are, that’s all that matters.” Y/N explained to her as her lips curved into a small smile. “You’re not your father.” Y/N added which made Sam feel a whole lot better. She’s told herself that a hundred times but hearing someone else say it finally made her feel like she isn’t her dad. She may have Loomis blood in her, but she’s not them. She doesn’t have the same mind as them. Sam gave her a hug which Y/N returned right away. Y/N knew that’s what Sam needed to hear. Even though they have only known each other for less than two years, they feel like they have known each other their whole lives. When you share the same history with someone, it brings you so much closer to them.  “Thanks, Y/N.” Sam said as she started to finally relax. “No problem.” Y/N told her as she lightly rubbed Sam’s back.

The girls broke their hug when they heard a voice call their names by the doors. When they looked over, they saw Chad helping Mindy who had a stab wound to the stomach. She had one arm wrapped around her brother’s shoulder and the other hand on her bleeding stomach. “Mindy!” Y/N said quickly standing up and running over to her friend with Sam following close behind her. “What the hell happened?” Sam asked full of worry. “We were on the subway going to the apartment when Ghostface came out of nowhere and stabbed Mindy in the stomach.” Chad explained to them. “Hey, I’m- “Tara started walking in but cut herself off when she noticed Mindy. Tara dropped the drinks and snacks onto one of the chairs. “Holy shit, Mindy!” Tara said running over to them stand next to Y/N and Sam. “HELP!” Y/N and Sam yelled out. They got the attention of two nurses who quickly ran over to the group. “We got her.” One of nurses reassured as her and the other nurse took Mindy from Chad and walked her out of the room to get treatment.

“Wait, where’s Ethan?” Tara asked, being the first one to notice that he was nowhere to be seen. “I don’t know. When we got off the subway to tend to Mindy he was gone and so was Ghostface.” Chad answered with a shrug finally starting catch his breath. A million questions started to flood Y/N’s brain.

Did Ghostface take Ethan? Did he get killed? Is he apart of this whole fucking scheme? Could Ethan be Ghostface? Was he just pretending to like her to get to Sam and Tara? Was everything he said to her a fucking lie? Y/N broke out of her thoughts when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Y/N took out her phone to see that familiar caller ID flashing on her phone. She answered the call and put the phone up against her ear.

“Where is Ethan?” Y/N said into the phone in a demanding tone. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Worried about losing your boyfriend as well?” The sinister voice on the other end teased her. “Stop fucking with me and tell me where the fuck you are!” Y/N snapped into the phone losing her patients. “I’m at the shrine with your boyfriend and I suggest you come here if you don’t want to see him laying on the floor in a bloody puddle like your father.” The killer told her in a taunting tone. “Oh, and I would come alone!” They told her in a stern tone and hung up on her.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked her. “They took Ethan to the shrine and said if I don’t get there now, they will kill him.” Y/N answered as she put her phone in her pocket. “They also told me to come alone.” She added. “So, what’s the plan?” Chad asked in a curious tone. “I’m going with Y/N to the shrine because this sounds like a fucking trap to get Y/N alone to just kill her.” Sam explained. “I’m coming too.” Tara said, which made Sam immediately shake her head no. “No, you’re staying here with Chad to look after Mindy and Gale.” Sam told her in a stern tone.

“I still think you two should have an extra hand. We don’t know how many Ghostface’s we are dealing with.” Chad mentioned remembering how the killer never works alone. “I can call Kirby to meet us there.” Y/N said which Sam agreed with. “Let’s go kill this son of a bitch.” Sam said to Y/N. Tara and Chad watched them walk out the doors. Tara really wanted to come but knew not to argue, which was probably the first time she didn’t argue with Sam since the return of Ghostface.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N and Sam went to the shrine they saw Kirby already there waiting for them. “Alright, tell me the plan you two came up with.” Kirby said to them. “While I distract the killer or killers, I want you two to go look and find Ethan.” Y/N told them. “That’s the fucking plan?” Kirby asked obviously not a fan of it. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good plan.” Sam said agreeing with Kirby. “Well, we don’t have fucking time to come up with a better one alright!” Y/N said with frustration in her tone. “The killer told me to come alone and if they find out that you two are with me who knows what will happen.” Y/N added thinking back to the last thing the killer told her. “Ugh, fine! You’re lucky I brought two guns with me.” Kirby said taking one of her guns out of her holster and handed it to Y/N.

“Let’s go.” Y/N said and walked inside of the old building. “Don’t need a DNA test to prove that she’s the daughter of Gale Weathers.” Kirby said to Sam as they followed Y/N inside. “I’ll be in the screening room.” Y/N told them and walked away from them before either one of them could say anything. “You take the left side of the building while I take the right.” Kirby told Sam, which earned a nod in response. The girls went their separate ways but made sure to keep an eye on Y/N and any sight of Ghostface.

When Y/N walked into the screening room flashbacks quickly flooded her mind. She wanted to run out again, but she knew that she had to face her fears like Sidney did last year. She knew that Sidney was scared to go back into Stu Macher’s house, but she sucked it up and did it to make sure everyone was alright.

Y/N walked over to the glass case where the drawing of her dad was in. As she stared at the drawing the white ripped up curtain came down over the stage startling her. She pointed her gun at the stage but saw no one in sight. A video started to play. It was a video showing her and Ethan on the college campus a couple days ago sitting under the tree talking. She then remembered when she got that call before Ethan came up to her. That was Ghostface calling here. They were there spying on her getting ready to strike. She was the first person on their hit list, but Ethan showed up distracting her and fucking up their plan. “What the fuck.” Y/N mumbled as her eyes were glued to the video.

“Hello, Y/N.” She heard a voice say behind her.

*Tags*

@sweetirilly  @aqellano  @igotmajordaddyissues  @athenalive  @hotweeb  @ghostlyboiii  @marshallowy  @rolly-polly-molly​  @callsignwidow

IF YOUR NAME IS CROSSED OUT IT’S BECAUSE TUMBLR WOULDN’T LET ME TAG YOU!

#ethan landry x reader #Ethan Landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fanfic #ethan landry fic #scream fanfic #scream imagine #scream x yn #scream x you #scream x reader #scream #Scream VI #scream iv #Scream 6 #scream 2023 #scream franchise #Jack Champion #jack champion imagine #jack champion x reader #jack champion fanfic #scream cast #sam carpenter #ghostface #tara carpenter #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #anika kayoko #quinn bailey #gale weathers

[quandaryqueen]

YJ, BTAS, Harley Quinn

Calling his s/o and saying they will be able to come home early, when asked where to meet them S/O says they at the hospital (they were hit by the car, nothing major and didn't call them because they said they'll be busy).

I'm sorry, what?

Edward Nygma X Injured Reader

If I may, I injected some irl experiences

💚 Young Justice

"Hi Eddie, I won't be able to get home until later."

Oh sure, he doesn't mind. It was good that you told him, though. He would've organised a search with all his might to find you. "Why's that?"

...

Your pause made him straighten up with anxiety. "Y/N, why is that?"

"Well..."

You were at a hospital after fainting from work, Edward rushed there palpitating from worry, and was only able to calm tf down when he sees you okay on your bed. So he sighs in relief, saunters over and just asks if you're okay.

💚 Batman the animated series

No, because the instant he heard 'I'm in the hospital' he is booking it as if you're dying or something. See this motherfucker? He is breaking traffic laws for you like the overdramatic maniac he is.

"Y/N?!" Catch this man dramatically slamming the doors open, startling you in your bed and the instant he sees you he is going to be kneeling by your bedside thanking god.

"Eddie, I just fainted, there's nothing too major--"

"I've been such a fool for neglecting you!"

"You didn't! You don't need to... Blame yourself, it's just a reaction when I accidentally cut myself."

"Please be careful next time, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

💚 Harley Quinn

The most rational among them, as the moment he heard you mention you would be late due to you being hospitalised, he doesn't rush there like a maniac breaking traffic laws and he's got his composure together.

"So what got you in the hospital?"

"Just fainted."

"Yeah, that's because you don't sleep in time. I'm confiscating your phone."

"What? No!"

#edward nygma #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #edward nigma #request #btas riddler x reader #btas riddler #young justice riddler x reader #young justice riddler #harley quinn riddler x reader #harley quinn riddler #absolutelysmittensimp

[leconcombrerit]

Finally, the year is almost over!

Let's recap by saying it was overall a motherfucking nightmare. Stressful with a cherry on top.

I got my yearly February depression in it's maxed out form, got into training (which was good, but also stressful), got a poorly paid job and terminal exhaustion, gained weight, got my bike stolen, fell off my new bike, then it broke and I still have to walk 16km a day to this day, my favorite cat died at one year and a half because of a damn window, my mom's dog died of cancer, my dad had some of his worst crises of insulting everyone which leaves me scarred to this day in spite of my experience in dealing with it, the public transportation system got so wonky it gave me panic attacks, my mom unsurprisingly started drinking again and fled to a domestic abuse women shelter after we wrestled some gin bottles from her bag and never talked to me again so far, the art block hasn't receded once, and I failed to maintain contact with at least four friends while giving up on three different hobbies.

I still made progress on my anxiety (I think), found the guts to bleach and dye my hair, got a new baby cat that survived a dog attack (not my dog obviously), saved two rabbits, found out about two supercool bands (Catamenia and Sabaton saved my ass there) and managed to survive. Which is an achievement in itself.

Last year I kept saying "happy 2024" by mistake but it was certainly just my brain being two steps ahead and trying to erase this one. So it's with the utmost indifference that I say my goodbyes to this year. May the next one suck slightly less, for the love of potatoes. Just a bit. I'm not too hopeful, but we shall see and all that jazz.

#Did I make progress? Yes #I got a job that I'm now told to resign from #And got some better life skills #Was this year a complete fuckery in retrospect? Definitely #I know I'm being negative but also like #If I look at the facts I can't argue otherwise #But hey it could have been worse #So there's that #Thank you for coming to my Ted Vent

[cuntess-carmilla]

Drugs TW

WHY do sedatives of any kind barely have any effect on me even when I take massive doses at my first try, meanwhile even the smallest trace of a stimulant gets into my system and BOOM I can't sleep again, I get hypertension in my fucking lungs, tachycardia, massive anxiety, and what have you?

The last time I tried weed I smoked like a motherfucker. I should've had one of those episodes in which people get absolutely fucked up, with a low heart rate and shit. But I got NOTHING. All I got is I finally could take a bit of a dump and felt slightly relaxed for 10 minutes. My eyes didn't even look red. At all.

Benzos? Barely notice a difference beyond a mild effect on my neuro-immunity, which is obviously good but also baffling that that's the only thing that happens to me. I have taken massive doses and all that happened is I could finally take a brief nap. My brother once took half of my minimum dose and the dude was high AS FUCK for hours.

Pregabalin? Again, considerable dose. Does help my joint pain and I suddenly get horny. But I know for certain that other people taking the doses I do would be seeing pink elephants instead of just being relaxed.

I'd think I just am not affected by substances easily but, man, I drank ONE cup of yerba mate the other day at like 11 am, not having had ANY in weeks as to blame build-up, and I couldn't fucking sleep that night.

I had to go off Wellbutrin because, no matter how low the dose, it would have me with THE most ridiculous insomnia. For YEARS I couldn't sleep more than 3 hours a night unless a zombifying anti-psychotic gave me a chemical brick to the head (and even then it didn't always work!!!), and the very little sleep I got was extremely light. Any tiny sound or anything brighter than pitch darkness would instantly awake me and there was no fucking way I would be able to fall asleep that night again.

Even fucking coffee. Thank GOD I despise coffee (unlike yerba mate RIP me), but despite how much I hate the taste, I've tried the Devil's juice before to see if it helps my concentration and fatigue, and all it does is send me into immediate suicidal panic attacks that last until I pee the caffeine out. Every. Single. Time.

Is it because I'm insanely chronically stressed/distressed without realizing?

Admittedly, I discovered recently that every night in my sleep I grind my teeth to dust, loud enough to wake up my girlfriend several times a night and now my siblings tell me I've done that every single night since I was a child, but... I mean, I don't feel I'm that absurdly stressed? But maybe I only think it's not that bad because I'm used to being absurdly stressed.

Is that why no sedative is strong enough for me to feel it but any stimulant sends me over the edge? Fuck.

#drugs tw

[onefallafternoon]

everything hurts kind of, and I don't know if this is a usual panic attack or if its a silent one or even that what I usually have is a panic attack cause I can never ask someone can I. I can't even properly find out if I'm making this up I can't even know if I have anxiety and or panic attacks or if I'm just doing to this to grab attention I don't even know if I am doing this to make myself seem like the special little snowflake I want to be what if I'm just fucking doing this bullshit to gaslit myself into thinking that if I have issues I can excuse myself being an asshole and hid from it. I hate that even while the fucking while I type this out I think to myself ' that can't be true haha I am not an asshole something must be wrong with my thoughts I'm not thinking clearly' I hate that I am hiding from everything and that I'm so used to it that I can't even FUCKING DISCERN THE TRUTH FROM THE LIES I hate that at first I started doing the stupid rant on tumblr posts to make myself feel like I am talking to someone and now its just in hope that one day my friends or someone finds this and takes pity on me and think 'oh the poor thing' or whatever I hate that I care enough to not just get my thoughts out but also put a stupid dramatic ending sort of thing to my post rants here so that won't look stupid at the end and that I care about appearances so much that I have somehow never talked to girls before and succeeded in talking to them like a normal person and I hate that I care about that shit so much that I couldn't even make myself talk to or introduce myself to the girl I think I have a crush on cause lets face it I really don't know here whether the crush started when I noticed how kind of pretty she was at like the first week of class or I heard one of the guys teasing her and mentioning that she has a crush on me or something. I hate that I am hopeful. I hate that I think they're talking about me. I hate that it isn't cleared up and when I asked one of the other guys he just laughed and said yes gave me hope and later denied and I hate that I can't even make myself ask the guy who sits next to her if its true. I hate that I spent a whole night thinking what we would do if we were a couple. I probably over fucking romanticized the idea of being a couple and being in love that I can't even separate the person from the delusions anymore and I hate that. I hate that I'm slowly descending into the 500 days of summer guy and that all I have to one up him is an inch in height and that I'm not confident or secure enough, or arrogant enough YET to find fault in others whether it's existent or not. I hate that I practice this one song in ukulele in hopes to sing it as a lullaby to my kid one day or something cause I FUCK OH FUCK I have romanticized that TOO. IM PROBABLY NEVER EVEN GONNA HAVE KIDS WITH THE LUCK I HAVE TALKING TO PEOPLE BUT FUCK CAN I DREAM LONG DISTANCE. BUT I CAN'T HOPE TO FUCKING MAKE A DREAM OF A CAREER? EVERYONE IS DOING THAT SHIT PROBABLY THE GIRL I AM CRUSHING ON TOO AND THE ENTRANCE IS A WEEK AWAY I COULD AT LEAST TRY LIKE MY DAD SAID BUT I CAN'T CAUSE I'M TOO BUSY MOPING THAT THE ONLY GIRL I PROBABLY MADE HAVE A CRUSH ON ME BY BEING A FAKE ASS PERSON WHO MAKES A SELF DEPRECATING OR DICK JOKE EVERY FIFTEEN SECONDS. I.DON'T.EVEN.KNOW.WHY.I'M DOING THAT STILL. I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE THAT I HAVE A CRUSH NO NO YEAH I PROBABLY 'FELL IN LOVE' WITH THE GIRL WHO GAVE ME TEN SECONDS OF ATTENTION WHICH WAS UNASKED OR UNPURPOSEFULLY DONE LIKE I DO WITH EVERY GIRL WHO GIVES ME UNWARRANTED ATTENTION. I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT ME AND THIS IS GONNA FUCKING SOUND SO EMO IN PROBABLY FIVE YEARS I AM GONNA BE FORCED TO LIVE and not even allowed to die. I wanna end this. lets face it theres no other way in my mind and I hope that it doesnt come to that i hope that i am not sounding like one of them dramatic ass motherfuckers but this just. fucking. frustrating. not understand why I do what I do and not understanding why i love the people i love or hate the people i hate. all people have is been nice to me.

they dont deserve this they really dont and here i fucking am thinking whether i am thinking even that cause i have been told that they have by people on multiple occasions or whatever the fuck i don't understand now. this is crazy as fuck. too crazy. too. goddamn. crazy. i didn't deserve this, or i probably fucking did, cause i cant tell if im the god fucking damn good guy or bad or moral grey or whatever the fuck.

[merriadoc-brandyfuck]

For context: I missed a session with my therapist and have been having an anxiety attack ever since, my mom called a family meeting and was arguing with my sister

Mom: IV’E FED YOU, CLOTHED YOU MADE SURE YOU HAD A ROOF OVER YOUR UNGRATEFUL ASS

Me (gradually getting louder): the bear necessities, the simple bear necessities

And since that evening, I’ve felt like the funniest motherfucker on the planet

#I would like to thank my anxiety for this #random burst of song #my processing skills become absolute horseshit #when I have an anxiety attack #this happened 30 minutes ago #wow #my brother gave me a fist bump right after #unfortunately #it was TikTok who made me remember this Disney classic #I made a few other good replies but I can’t remember them #bruh my sister got mad at me for butting in #like excuse me #but if it weren’t for me mom would still be chewing you out #I’m definitely going to get grounded for that but it was worth it #i hate anxiety #but it’s worth it #to have moments like this where I’m not worried about the consequences #also my wii remotes might not work anymore and now I’m sad #I liked my wii #this reminds me of the coolest motherfucker on the planet #my cousin Throckmorten the skateboarder

[havenoffandoms]

Hey congrats on 900 followers! Would I be able to request the touch starved prompt from your list with the pairing Aiden/Lambert please? Love all your writing!

Hello!! Thanks for requesting this prompt and this pairing! I’ve been on a right Lambden kick recently, so I felt inspired. I hope you like it! 

Prompt 13: Touch-Starved

Pairing: Aiden x Lambert

Warnings: None

Prompt List

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together. Being stabbed to death in his sleep comes to mind, or having Aiden go all batshit crazy if Lambert dared to beat him at Gwent. Lambert has heard many rumours about Cat witchers in his long life. Cats are batshit crazy. Cats are emotionally volatile. Cats are backstabbing sons of bitches… literally and metaphorically. Cats are bad. Cats are evil, etc, etc. All these rumours circulated in Kaer Morhen long before Lambert even set foot in that ramshackle castle. He was too young to have witnessed the Tournament, but he heard the older witchers talk. Later in his life, when only a handful of wolf witchers were left after the sacking, Eskel gave Lambert a more detailed account of the Tournament.

“The Cats betrayed us, went on a rampage. Killed many wolf witchers in the process. Geralt and I lost many friends that day,” Eskel told him one evening, when the oldest surviving wolf was too far in his cup to notice that he was oversharing. “Radowit’s court mage Astrogarus promised the Cats monopoly on killing monsters within Kaedwen in exchange for attacking the Wolves during the tournament. Turns out Radowit was a backstabbing motherfucker himself. He ordered his soldiers to shoot all of the remaining witchers of both schools in the arena.”

“Lemme guess,” Lambert spoke, his own speech slightly slurred, “pretty boy saved the day?” 

Eskel shook his head. “Fled. Mousesack helped him escape the massacre. Poor bastard never forgave himself for abandonin’ our brothers, but what choice did he have?”

Don’t get Lambert wrong. He’s not saying that Aiden is harmless, far from it. The guy’s lethal with his swords, deadly with a pair of daggers, not to mention a stealthy and clever thief. Aiden is mercurial, hot-tempered and a bit feral when he wants to be, and his morals are at best dubious. Whereas wolf witchers had their emotions beaten out of them at a young age, cat witchers feel too much, too strongly. Lambert’s witnessed Aiden flip tables when peasants beat him at Gwent, but he’s also witnessed the Cat shed a tear after bringing the news to a mother that her son did not survive the ghoul attack two villages down the road. 

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but the Cat had never ceased to surprise him. The most unexpected trait Aiden has displayed to date is his insatiable need for physical contact. It’s not like Lambert hates being touched - he’s only human, albeit a mutated one, but still human. He enjoys a hug as much as the next person, especially when said hug comes from one of his brothers (or, dare he say, Vesemir) at the end of a long and difficult year on the Path. Lambert has also never begrudged a bed partner a post-coital cuddle session. Aiden’s need for physical contact is… on a whole different level. 

The first time it happened, Lambert almost shoved the Cat off him and sent him packing, until he realised that Aiden was not only hugging him, but clinging onto him. His sharp nails were digging in the soft material of Lambert’s shirt, the fabric creaking in protest under the firm grip. When Lambert looked down, he noticed the pinched eyebrows and tears trailing down Aiden’s face. It wasn’t until a broken sob pushed past the Cat’s lips that Lambert reluctantly returned the embrace, arms wound tightly around Aiden’s trembling body. Aiden eventually settled in the safety of Lambert’s arms, his features softening as he sank back into a peaceful slumber. 

Neither mentioned the previous evening’s impromptu cuddling session, but from that moment one, it was like someone had flicked a switch. Aiden came up with every possible fucking excuse to touch Lambert. Their hands would always accidentally graze each other when they packed up camp, or tacked up the horses. Aiden would bump shoulders with him when they were travelling on foot. If they sat next to one another in a tavern, Aiden would press his leg against Lambert’s, and if they were facing each other, a tentative foot would gently nudge Lambert’s shin and linger there. It’s not like Aiden was trying to hide his intentions, either. They rarely paid for two rooms anymore, because even if they did, Aiden would always end up in Lambert’s bed anyway, arms wound around Lambert’s body like a koala clinging to its mother.

Lambert doesn’t hate Aiden’s need for physical proximity, he’s just… confused by it. Aiden rarely takes any lovers to bed, even though he clearly craves physical intimacy. Lambert is more than happy to cuddle with Aiden, especially when they are forced to sleep under the stars and the early autumn frosts begin to settle over the region. It saves them from lighting a campfire, which may attract the wrong kind of attention to them. That’s all that’s ever transpired between the two, though… cuddling. Lambert enjoys the cuddling as much as Aiden does, but for Aiden it seems to be about more than mere enjoyment. The Cat simply refuses to go without physical intimacy which at times can be… alright, it can feel overbearing, but Lambert’s not about to complain, not when most humans turn away from him in disgust and contempt when he tries to chat them up. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aiden almost develops a form of separation anxiety. He refuses to let Lambert out of his sight, going so far as to follow the man everywhere, and that’s the moment when Lambert snaps. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks, his tone hiding none of the irritation he feels at being tailed by this overgrown tomcat. Aiden stops dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide at Lambert’s words. 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been following me since this morning… I have errands to run and it’s hard to do that when you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lambert instantly regrets his words the minute they leave his mouth. Aiden’s shoulders visibly sag at Lambert’s comment, his content expression melting into something sadder and the sight tugs at the wolf’s heartstrings in all the wrong ways. Aiden averts Lambert’s eyes shyly, the tip of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink as embarrassment washes over him. Lambert heaves a sigh. Way to act like a fucking dick. 

“Sorry, Aiden. I… I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but-”

“It’s alright, I… I knew this moment would come eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Lambert asks, a confused frown etched on his face. Aiden doesn’t look at him when he replies in a voice far too small to belong to the lethal, cocky witcher Lambert has come to know over the past few months. 

“You’re gonna ask me to leave for good. I get it. I… I’ll go back to the room and pack my things.” 

As Aiden turns around to leave, Lambert’s hand shoots out and grabs a hold of Aiden’s wrist. Before Lambert’s brain has a chance to catch up, he finds himself pulling Aiden into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes of judgemental humans meandering the stalls of the midweek market. Aiden looks so unsure now, so vulnerable like this, and it makes Lambert want to wrap the Cat up in warm blankets and cuddle him and forget the world for a while. Instead, he settles on pressing Aiden’s back against the wall and draping himself around the Cat witcher as much as he can. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lambert breathes in the air pocket between them as he locks eyes with Aiden, “you’ve just been… especially clingy recently. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aiden averts his eyes once again, but Lambert is quick to grip the other man’s chin and force Aiden to meet his gaze. Even that simple touch pulls a small hiss from Aiden, whose eyes flutter shut as he relishes in the feeling of Lambert touching him anywhere. Lambert purses his lips, eager for an answer. 

“Aiden-”

“Winter is around the corner,” Aiden whispers, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Lambert’s frown deepens. 

“And?”

His question is met with a pointed eye roll from Aiden. 

“And… wolves return to their dens for winter, don’t they? I was just… enjoying the last few weeks in your company before you leave and never come back.”

As the final piece of the puzzle slots into place, understanding dawns on Lambert. He pulls away from Aiden and the small whimper the loss of contact triggers does not go unnoticed. Something old and fragile aches in Lambert’s chest as the meaning of Aiden’s words sink in. Aiden isn’t just worried about being separated from Lambert for a few months, but he’s worried that Lambert will never come back.The wolf links his fingers with his Cat’s, squeezing softly as he leans into Aiden’s space and rubs his bearded cheek against Aiden’s jawline. The latter quickly melts under the soft ministrations, the soft content rumble deepening into a continuous purr as Lambert nuzzles the crook of Aiden’s neck. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

“Yeah, right,” Aiden snorts in response, “cause you’re so good with feelings and shit.”

“Not everyone’s a sappy sentimental bitch like you are,” Lambert teases gently, earning himself a half-hearted slap up the back of the head. “I don’t have to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Aiden tenses, his soft purring stopping abruptly as he takes in Lambert’s words. Lambert continues to rub his cheek against Aiden’s jaw, his neck, his cheek… wherever he can reach, the action meant to soothe the brewing storm in Aiden’s mind.

“It’s your home,” Aiden offers weakly, “I don’t want… I… it’s your home.” 

“I can send a letter to the old man. Let him know I’m alive. We could find a den somewhere else… an attic somewhere, or an abandoned castle.” Lambert nuzzles the spot right behind Aiden’s ear, earning a pleased hum from the Cat. “Or you could come with me.”

“Sure. Cause that’s gonna end well…” 

“That’s settled then. I’m spending winter with you.”

Aiden pushes Lambert away, their eyes meeting once again but this time, Aiden searches for any trace of a lie in Lambert’s amber gaze. He finds none, because Lambert is one hundred percent honest in his offer. He would ditch Vesemir, Geralt and Eskel for a year to spend it with Aiden… and the thought should scare him more than it does, truthfully. He’s only known the Cat for a few months, and yet… well, maybe Lambert was dreading the winter as well. How about that? It’s not like he felt equally anxious about leaving Aiden, it’s just… fuck off. 

“You mean that?” 

“Mhm. Fair warning… I hate the cold. If I’m spending the winter with you, you’ll have to find a way to keep me warm or I will bite your head off.” 

In Aiden’s defence, he does keep Lambert warm all winter long. Their cuddling finally turns into something more, and from the moment Lambert and Aiden cross that fateful line there is no going back. Aiden becomes insatiable, always seeking Lambert’s body in some shape or form, never letting the wolf out of his sight again.  Lambert may have been apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but it turns out that all his worries were for nothing. Turns out Cat witchers are still crazy, and feral, and mercurial… a tad possessive as well, something Lambert doesn’t hate... but they’re also the cuddliest sons of bitches on the Continent. 

Lambert can live with that, he thinks. 

Request a prompt.

#havenwrites #fluff #angst #the witcher #wiedzmin #lambert the witcher #the witcher lambert #lambert #aiden #aiden the witcher #the witcher aiden #witcher lambert #witcher aiden #Lambden #laiden #lambert x aiden #aiden x lambert #aiden/lambert #lambert/aiden #soft #prompt fill #requests open

[killian-whump]

COVID-19 and Anxiety

Hi guys! So I seem to be over the COVID-19... but I want to put something out there, because I didn’t know it was a thing, and no one mentioned it was a thing, probably because they also didn’t know it was a thing, but apparently it IS a thing - or at least enough of a thing that it’s happened to a bunch of people, even if it’s not enough of a thing for doctors and news people to bother talking about it - although at least some scientists have looked into it, so it’s definitely a thing and not just a thing I made up.

ANYWAY... Almost the very day that the fever finally let up and my symptoms once and for all were unquestionably improving, I had the worst panic attack of my life. Now, I am no stranger to panic attacks. I’ve been medicated for extreme anxiety (and panic disorder) for 15 years now. I know panic attacks.

I didn’t know this motherfucker, though.

I survived it, thanks largely in part to my many, many years of practice dealing with these things and the immense help of my loving and understanding family... but it was terrifying to be hit by something so extreme out of nowhere, when my panic disorder is largely under control and even my anxiety’s been doing pretty well as of late.

And that panic attack wasn’t the end of it. The next week or so, I was plagued with anxiety levels as bad (and at times even worse) than I had in the days before I sought help and got medicated for my disorders. I thought I was losing my mind. I worried I’d have to live the rest of my life this way now. But mostly, I just panicked and fretted and took copious amounts of Xanax to try to survive.

It took several days for common sense to regain enough of a hold on me that I turned to the internet to look up “COVID-19″ and “anxiety”. Unfortunately, most of the results were about the general increase in anxiety during these trying times, and how a global pandemic tends to make us all feel a little more on edge. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. I was looking for...

Is one of the symptoms of COVID-19 losing your damn mind?!

Turns out, it is. Or it can be, at least, for some people. As I said, there are others out there who had the exact same experience, and even some medical journals where scientists and doctors were weighing in on the possible causes. Regardless, I wasn’t imagining it, and it wasn’t a one-off phenomenon.

But I had no clue it was even possible when I caught COVID-19. I’ve never heard anyone else mention it. Well-meaning friends all gave me advice when I came down with COVID, but not one mentioned, “Oh, watch out, you might go absolutely bananas after your symptoms pass.”

So I thought the least I could do, for my friends and the world at large, is put my experience out there, even if it’s just on my silly little blog, because people with anxiety (and even those without) NEED to be aware of this possible symptom so they can be prepared for it if it does hit them. I wish I had been! And I can’t even express in words the comfort I got when I finally DID look it up and realized, “This is just COVID. It will pass.”

And it WILL pass. It’s taken me about a week (and I may not be out of the woods yet, just hoping I’m nearing the end of my path), but I’m starting to feel a little more normal again.

So if you (or a friend) has anxiety issues and contracts COVID-19, please let them know that there is a possibility that they will experience a bad spell of heightened anxiety after their symptoms pass. Make sure to have whatever “as needed” anxiety/panic medications you use on hand and take it easy. Don’t jump right back to work. Don’t expect to get right back to normal. Give yourself an extra week or so to make sure you’re really over it.

And be strong. You got this. Love you all ❤️

#covid-19 #covid #anxiety

[babyboy-cody]

HI ALYSSA!!! 😃 What you wrote for grayson was beyond BEAUTIFUL. can you write something where they’re in a new relationship and she gets introduced on the podcast??? 🥰

i’m gonna try really hard to not go overboard this time 😭

The atmosphere was lighthearted and playful. Since 7am to the early afternoon, you’ve been extremely nervous and fidgety. Grayson recognized the early signs of an anxiety attack and made to bring out one of your sensory toys, the ones that make the popping and clicking sound. He brought you to a secluded corner of the house, away from everyone and all the noise, and blocked them with his body until you calmed down. The scent of him, the overall height of him, the gruffness of his voice, and the soft teddy bear vibes Grayson was giving off had you feeling more at ease.

“What if… What if they don’t like me, Gray? I mean, I’m not like the other girls you’ve hooked up with before. I’m not some insta baddie or a bad bitch. I’m me and they’re gonna hate it,” you quietly rambled to him while frantically popping and clicking your sensory toy, all the while keeping your eyes on your hand movements. Grayson allowed you to rant, not stepping in until you were fully finished. “I mean, Kris is different because she’s perfect for Ethan and she never really got any hate - not that I know of. She’s like a soft baddie, I’m not even 6% of a baddie.” This made Grayson smile as he crossed his arms and stared down at you. “Like, I’m not Tyson and it just… sucks feeling like this.”

“Look at me,” he told you, his voice low enough for only you both to hear. When you nervously peer up at him, no longer using your sensory toy, he places his large hands on your warm cheeks, thumbs gently stroking back and forth. “You’re not Tyson and that’s why I’m in love with you. You think I care about insta baddies? You’re the fucking queen, you hear me?” When you start looking down again, he quickly lifts your head. “Aye, I’m not done talking to you. You’re nothing like those girls and that’s what made me fall for you. Your kind soul, pretty eyes, and good vibes made me feel so comfortable that I always wanted to be around you 24/7. Ask Kris.” He smiles at the sound of your soft giggle and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners. “If I love with all my heart, the people who support us and want us to be happy will love you too.”

“Yo,” Ethan called out from across the room. “You ready?” He was looking at you, more so worried about your reputation than Grayson’s. “There’s no going back.” His tone was teasing and his eyes held no malice. You looked up at Grayson and he gave you a small nod and grin, as if telling you, ‘You got this.’ When you gave Ethan an enthusiastic nod, he excitedly claps his hands. “Lets do this shit!”

When you followed them to the room where they do their podcasts, you felt that anxious wave crash over you again. Grayson, being the extremely observant man he is, made sure you had your sensory toy in your hands as he rubbed your arms gently. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks that felt like butterfly wings fluttering against your skin because of his growing beard. Kristina shot you a thumbs up from her spot in the kitchen as she ate some avocado toast. You felt more at ease as Grayson and Ethan shot playful jokes at each other back and forth. You took your spot beside Grayson on the swivel chair and took the headphones he hands to you. After setting up the mics and cameras, you got yours comfortable and sat a foot or two away from Grayson so that they’re able to do their intro without you in the frame.

“It’s now or never,” you quietly mumbled to yourself.

“Good evening, everybody!” Grayson enthusiastically speaks into the mic. “Welcome back to Deeper with the Dolan Twins. I’m one of your hosts, Grayson.”

“And I’m your other host, Ethan. If it’s a little harder to tell who is who, I wore white today and Grayson wore black,” Ethan states confidently. “Grayson is always wearing his greasy ass trucker hat.”

“It’s not greasy, shut up.” Grayson sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, sending a look to the side as you covered your mouth to stifle your laugh. “So, today we are doing things a little bit differently.” You sat up straighter in your seat. “As all of you know, we had Kristina on our podcast to furthermore introduce herself as Ethan’s girlfriend.”

“And today,” Ethan rubbed his hands excitedly. “We have a very, very special guest. We are introducing… drum roll, please…” Grayson quickly tapped his fingers against the table. “Grayson’s very own girlfriend, Y/N!”

Grayson was quick to pull your chair closer to his as you held the mic and laughed quietly as they both cheered loud and clear. “This is my very lovely and very beautiful girlfriend, Y/N. Say hello to the audience.”

“Um… hello,” you awkwardly said, causing Ethan to snort. “Shut up, E! I’m nervous.” You shyly covered your face, groaning when Grayson pulled your hands away and placed his hand between yours. You immediately started playing with his fingers; a sense of calm washing over you. “Well as nervous as I am, I am extremely excited to be a guest on your podcast and I hope it receives good reactions.”

“On a lighter note, lets dive deeper into how the relationship between you and Gray… developed,” Ethan said and got comfortable in his seat.

“You tell the short story and I’ll tell the long story,” you told Grayson and lightly patted his shoulder while looking at him with such love-filled eyes that even Ethan can see from across the large table.

Grayson cleared his throat and never once move his hand from between yours. “Well we met a few years ago and started fully dating, I’d say, almost a year ago. And we met through Kristina because you’ve been really good friends story.”

“Okay, guys, people that are listening and watching,” Ethan interrupted. “Remember to get very comfortable because this story is going to be a fucking rollercoaster of emotions.”

“Oh god,” you facepalmed. “Now, for the long story. I’ve been really close friends with Kris since our childhood. I moved to Australia at a young age with my dad after my mom passed away, and we were just two peas in a pod. The way you and Grayson are with each other is the exact same way Kris and I are with each other.” Grayson leans his chin on his hand and never once looks away from you. His attention was all on you… and your lips. “And then, back in 2017 is when she started telling me about Ethan. And she had mentioned that you had a younger brother-”

“Younger by, like, 20 minutes,” Grayson interrupted with a scoff.

“Younger brother,” you emphasized a little louder, causing both twins to laugh. “And she had asked Ethan stuff about Grayson, to which she transferred back to me. So, she was like a bird messenger.” You giggled as you said that, causing a big grin to form on Grayson’s lips. “And then no sooner after that, we started talking more frequently and getting to know each other. And it just.. grew after that.”

“Didn’t Gray ghost you?” Ethan suddenly asked. Grayson groans loud beside you and covers his face embarrassingly. “I remember you freaking the fuck out because of it.”

“Yes, the motherfucker did ghost me for a few weeks. Wanna explain why, hm?” You teasingly asked him with a raise of your brows. Grayson blushed fiercely.

“So within the first three months of us talking, that was when I fully started developing strong feelings for you. And at the time, I had been fucked over so many times by so many people and was never really able to hold a long relationship. And I partially blamed myself for that because I tend to.. rush things, if that makes sense. I’m a romantic and when I fall for someone, I fall hard.” As Grayson passionately spoke and opened up his feelings, your eyes went from his eyes to his lips to his hands and back and forth. The way he spoke with his hands made you hide a smile by biting your lip. “And I was terrified because I automatically assumed that I was gonna fuck it up one way or another. The only way for me to cope was to push my feelings aside, and it just effected us both so negatively.”

“Yeah, from past experiences, it can be really difficult for someone to come to terms with the true emotions they felt. I was the same way with Kristina, you know. It felt like I had to walk around eggshells out of fear of fucking up the one thing that was good for me.” You and Grayson nodded in agreement. “I remember when we came to Australia after what happened and Gray was running back and forth, just writing what he wanted to say to you and he almost cried because his pencil broke.”

You quickly looked at Grayson. “Really?” You weren’t teasing him, you were shocked. Your voice was soft and you had a pout on your lips that he kissed away. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Nooooo!” Grayson yelled out and threw an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side.

“That’s so sweet!” You whined and pouted some more. “I never knew that, Gray. I know that in the past, there were some hardships that we were able to overcome and the way we communicated with each other, it just made our relationship stronger.”

The conversation ranged from topic to topic. Your life growing up, the death of your mother, your dad’s rescue farm in Australia, your college degree, and some moments between you and Grayson. You felt so comfortable and carefree that Grayson noticed a changed. You laughed more and spoke louder. You playfully bantered with Ethan and provided your own insight on serious topics regarding the negative effects of social media and about mental health. He’s so sure in his heart that people who love and support him and Ethan are gonna love you the same.

#this was really cute 🥺 #i kinda lost my flow halfway #idk if you can tell #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fluff

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

PR stunt relationships - ɟ

🎶🎶 Guess who’s back, back, back? Back again, gain, gain 🎶🎶

Heeello, my babies! 🥰 How are you? I hope you’re all fine and that you’re staying strong since, as we knew and expected, they’re literally attacking us every day with these PRs. And today’s topic is precisely about this. PR-stunt relationships.

What do I know about- What do I know about love? Nothing. And that’s why it’s everything. Sorry, I had to 😅🤣. Shout-out to ‘What Do I Know About Love?’ by CC. No but, seriously tho. What do I know about a PR stunt relationship? Again, I’m not an expert on the subject. I know as much as you do, plus, maybe a little bit more due to my research over the years.

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

PR stunt relationship, also known as PRomance, showmance, fauxmance (👈🏽 cover for celebrities who are both queer), and also as 🤫😂 ‘extremely camera-ready relationship’. I can personally define a PR as a work of persuasion. Picture PR people as shapers, as narrators, as storytellers, because that’s what they do. Whether it’s for protection, or to build or rebuild an image, or simply for promotion, they analyze the situation in order to create the best publicity/narrative/farce that benefits their client. They each have their own vision. Each of them has a plan that they sometimes tend to repeat with other clients because it works. Take as an example our friend Scooby Doo Sc**ter (Br**n), who is making it increasingly normal and common for his clients to use engagement rings as narratives.

A PR stunt relationship is nothing more than a PUBLICITY STUNT, as the word itself implies, aimed to get people and media attention. Publicists and celebrity management managers set up a fake public relationship to make fans and the general public believe it’s true. To give the couple more credibility, also friends, family, and artists friends of the couple get involved many times. To give you a practical example, let’s take PRen Tyren. They were at least 80% involved in each other’s lives.

Think about their birthdays and all the friends and families involved. Think about when Tymber even went to Graciela’s birthday, L’s great grandmother. Think about Tyres and brother Jauregui (who even made a song out of it with him). Think about L and Angel Gold (his sister). Think about L and Jailynn (his daughter). Think about The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, aka Tyren and, I think they were called Galsey? (Halsey and G-Eazy). Think even about Dinah who was part of the PR. I mean, you got it, right?

This type of business, whether involves the music industry, the film industry, the sports industry, etc., works this way for EVERYONE. They get at the same goal but with different tactics for each individual person, and they give a damn if in the meantime the person, their client, is bullied, or hated, or if they receive death threats, or if they start having anxiety problems, panic attacks, mental or physical health problems, etc. They don’t give a shit about their well-being in general. It’s just business to them. They’re just money with two legs. Can you picture a rolled-up dollar with two legs, can’t you? Good, because that’s what they are. Products. Products to sell.

There’s a very strict contract that both parties have to mutually agree on, and this contract is called a relationship contract. A relationship contract is a legally binding document for the duration of at least one year. It’s very VERY own custom-made because they write down what do they want to happen, then the duration (which can be extended) and the termination, and all the other things that each of them wants to include. The duration of a contract obviously varies from person to person and can depend on many things. But the main thing is that, it depends on the type of goal they want to achieve thanks to it.

For example, if the purpose is purely publicizing, such as the promotion of an album, or a movie, or whatever else, the relationship will last only for the necessary time that it takes to increase the interest of the public and indeed, to publicize the project. Another example could be when they want to hide the sexuality of one of the two people in the couple or both. Here, the duration of the contract could reach up to years, and could even lead to fake marriages.

We have examples of people who have done this to promote movies/sagas/franchises: Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart, Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens. We have examples of people who have done this to promote TV series: Blake Lively and Penn Badgley, Lili Reinhart and Cole Sprouse, Chad Michael Murray and Sophia Bush. We have examples of people who have done this to hide their true sexuality: Ricky Martin & Rebecca De Alba (for 17 motherfucking years), TS and.. and-and-and EVERYONE. We have examples of people who have done this to increase their notoriety, but then fell in love for real despite being super toxic for each other: Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez. We even have examples of real couples who have been asked to go public to boost ratings and publicize their show more than it already was per se: Lea Michele and Cory Monteith. [Yes, my friends, even real couples do PR stuff for publicity purposes]

Celebs fake relationships for profits. Profits such as more fame, more fans, more acquaintances, whether they were made together or thanks to or of the ‘partner’ themselves based also on the industry fields to which they are part, more freedom in other aspects of their life, both work and private, etc., and of course, money. The money profit received varies. It varies according to the duration (especially if they’re many years), to what they’re supposed to do, such as how many times they’re forced to kiss (yes, guys, that also counts), to the amount of time they have to spend together, aka being seen together, etc. It also and above all vary, based on how famous they are, or if one of them is not famous at all, or if one of them is more famous than the other. It’s obvious that the more famous the person is, the more money they receive. Both parties benefit from it, but the person who ACCEPTED to do the PR is obviously paid more also based on the notoriety they have as I told you. Here we start with a minimum of $5,000 received per month. The figure can also reach disproportionate numbers with five/six zeros per year.

It’s enough to think that 75/80% of all famous couples are fake. They gain more attention and ultimately, more money, and at the same time, fans and GP can witness an exciting ‘love story’ filled with drama, gossip, rumors, mysteries, and if they decide to end their story on a negative note, even with the possible and eventual shade-throwing which in turn leads to more attention, more gossip, etc., etc. Exactly how the teams on both sides wanted. You have to keep in mind that teams have the power in this case. It’s the PR teams who hold the power over the media to control the narrative, and not the other way around.

There are also many factors involved to keep in mind. People involved. We have friends, parents, paparazzi, and all those other people the celeb team involves to make the story look as believable as possible. For example, you know when the media say it was a source who gave them the news? Well, that’s the truth. Think about it. Those sources and those insiders are really insiders because they’re part of the team. They are those people who work for them and who release information, whether true or fake, to follow the narrative decided for the plan. Speaking instead of another topic that I’ve noticed in many asks. Paparazzi.

I don’t know if you know how paparazzi usually work, but especially the old-fashioned stalker type ones, are not known to hold back, in fact, on the contrary, they go way too far beyond the limits. Some of them know where the celebrities might be based on how popular the location is (clubs, restaurants, etc., where celebs often go), or other times, they’re called by waiters, valets, drivers, etc., etc. It’s a pretty aggressive and competitive industry, and paparazzi do everything they can to get images of famous people to sell to a newspaper or a magazine or on Instagram. There are differences between those in the US, those in Europe, etc. Many are also easy to control since eight times out of ten, it’s an organized thing.

As we well know, most of the time, the paparazzi are told where to be and when, probably by the celebrity’s PR agency itself. It’s ALL for publicity. Publicity of any kind. To promote a movie if it’s an actor, to promote an album if it’s a singer, to be noticed if that person’s project was a flop, for fake relationships or to ‘cover’ the real ones if one of the two is in a relationship that is not seen in a good light and therefore doesn’t suit the public eye, or if one of the two or both of them are queer. Seriously, for everything. And so they have paparazzi following them around so it looks like they’re more popular than they actually are, and the celebrities who make me laugh the most are those who, after calling them, act like the paparazzi were following them everywhere, some even getting angry and taking it out on them.

But it must also be said that celebrities who really don’t want the paparazzi’s attention, make sure that this doesn’t happen. Unlike the ones who want them and even have them called. There are many celebrities who want their pictures taken because, as we also know, any publicity is good publicity. These celebrities know how it works and not only accept that the paparazzi are part of the business, but use them as a tool for their publicity. It’s just business for them and a new opportunity to look good in magazines. They want to be in control of their image and in this way, they have it.

Also, some brands pay celebs to wear their clothing or accessories while out and about, and those staged shots that look like candid of a celebrity leaving a restaurant or a store, actually have multiple purposes, namely: celebrity endorsement of the product, big check for the celebrity for wearing the item, collaboration between the celebrity and paparazzi to get nice shots that look natural and random from which the celebrity then selects the ones they prefers, and image sales for the paparazzi agency. Everyone gets paid and everyone is happy.

Another thing to take into consideration? Depending on the celebrity’s profession, even their own contracts. In the sense that most of their contracts involve fake relationships. It also depends on the image that the celeb has and whether they’re trying to hide their sexuality. From this, their contracts can include a minimum of two PRs, or five, or eight, or even one that lasts for many years. They can also state that the same person with whom the celebrity has already had a PR in the past, may be again in the future. I’ll give you a practical example.

Imagine yourselves and a friend as a celebrity, okay? You guys are singers and your friend is an actor. You’ve just signed a 3-album deal lasting 5 years (meaning you have 5 years to complete and release 3 albums), and your friend an 8-year movie saga contract (let’s imagine 3 movies). Now let’s imagine that there are clauses in both your contracts that also include fake relationships. Your contract has two, and your friend’s contract has five, including one with one of their co-stars. Both of you must, ABSOLUTELY, have the number of PRs chosen for you over the course of those years, otherwise, you’re gonna be forced not only to fight a lawsuit that you will lose because you haven’t respected the contract, but also to pay a penalty that can reach up to six figures.

Doesn’t this ring a bell? Now do you also understand why Ca*ren, and most of the other celebrities, are forced to have PR stunt relationships? Because they have to! Because it’s part of their contracts if they want to keep doing what they do. Many of them have a say. They can decide whether or not to accept the person chosen for them, they can choose a person themselves, they can negotiate something in return if they accept a person they didn’t want, etc., etc. But many have no say in it.

And speaking of our Camr*n, more specifically, our L, and Kris. Guys… All the comments I’ve read around… *help* 🤦🏻🤦🏻🤦🏻

L didn’t invite Kris there because he’s her boyfriend. And it certainly wasn’t her the one who asked her dad to delete the post because she didn’t want her fans to start attacking her new boyfriend or because she wanted to protect her relationship. IT WAS ALL DONE ON PURPOSE. Mi*e posted the picture and then deleted it ON PURPOSE! Why? Because (L and Kris’ teams) wanted the fans to see the picture to speculate! They wanted the fans to start attacking him! They want people to talk about it!! Is that really that hard to understand or to believe? Welcome to Tyren 2.0, my friends. That’s how it started with Taco Delivery Symbol, or did you forget that too? Go read the timelines if you really don’t remember.

I’ve lost count of how many times they’ve put off releasing L’s album over the years. They’d finally decided, and then it was postponed AGAIN, but because of COVID. EVERYONE had to postpone their programs actually, but L’s album was supposed to be released 100% this year (in September, in my opinion). Her PR should have started earlier. This is the only reason we have only had hints of Crispy McBacon (I’ve already found so many nicknames for his transphobic ass, sorry but I just can’t help myself) over time. Because they have postponed several times! *And also because, in my opinion, they were still looking for an alternative. The choice had to be between a guy (him) and a girl.*

But hey, at least they have an excuse to make this PR more real, you know? I’m already picturing what she’ll say because we all know the script by now: “Kris and I’ve been dating for a while now. I’m a private person. My personal life is my personal life and I want to protect my shit, you know? I don’t like it when people judge my life choices and that’s why I’ve never talked about it before. And I’d like it to stay that way”. Picture me shouting a “SURE, JAN!” when that happens, also because we will then slowly have more and more of their content. Aww, I’m already picturing them playing fake lovebirds and talking to each other in Spanish IN FRONT of a camera, in a live or an Insta-story maybe? 🤮🤮🤮

And speaking of postponed programs…

This is my version of how things could’ve turned out for our oh so beloved IwanttobeknownMila. Keep these dates in mind. Shon Mentos: The Tour, started on March 7, 2019, and ended on December 21, 2019. The Romance Tour, was supposed to start on May 26, 2020, and end on September 26, 2020.

They could’ve released Shirt’s documentary around the beginning of the Romance Tour. They could’ve made them break up almost at the end of the Romance Tour. He would’ve completed the album now, to then releasing it in January or February almost simultaneously with Cinderella’s release.

Why all this? Simple, cross-publicity or cross-promotion or whatever you want to call it. Choke recently said that they’d initially finished filming at the end of his tour and that they had to cut out a lot of parts. And what does all this mean? That the original documentary was another one.

In my opinion, the original was supposed to about his life on tour and only a small part, sneak peeks about the creation of Wonder. Instead, thanks to COVID, they changed direction and made it all about his album. The reason why they had to cut a lot of parts, was to make room for the last few months and therefore to the completion of the album. Which is why I think they finished filming in September/October (if anyone of u knows more, please feel free to let me know).

Without COVID they could’ve released his original documentary more or less around the beginning of the Romance Tour. News, tabloids, and people would’ve talked about them, both for the documentary and for the tour of our Mila= cross-promotion. They could’ve made them break up almost at the end of the Romance Tour. The distance, the misunderstandings, and why not, even the pathetic excuse that Toilet Brush used now when ‘they were in crisis/on a break’, that is, that he hadn’t been opened and vulnerable with her. People would’ve talked about them, Shitmila fans would’ve rebelled and cry their eyes out, news and tabloids would’ve gone crazy for who would tell the story better= cross-promotion. He would’ve completed the album now, with half of the songs he already had (from 3 years) and that he’s using on this album, and a half with songs that would’ve been about his broken heart, to then releasing it in January or February almost simultaneously with Cinderella’s release. Do I need to say this? You can imagine what would’ve happened, right? And what would that have led to? Oh yeah. Cross-promotion!

But anyway, guys, it didn’t happen. Just as we didn’t get L’s album as we hoped. But try to remember one thing, okay? Tyren’s contract started because L needed a new male PR and then they flipped the cards around and continued for him AS AGREED initially. Shakerstoremila’s one, on the other hand, is only and exclusively for HIM. It’s centered on him and will continue to be on him until the end. There’s no point in asking yourselves why Paruparo does this and why Paruparo does that, okay? She HAS TO do it. It’s in her contract and she cannot legally break it if she doesn’t want to face the consequences HER HERSELF has accepted. The sooner you understand this, the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can wait for the end more calmly. It sucks, I know. But that’s the way it is.

I’ve never liked Shon that much in the past. I discovered his existence only and exclusively thanks to Paruparo (IKWYDLS). I’ve always seen him as too fake and with a huge ego. I first became aware of his giant ego during the interview they did in 2015 at The Late Late Show with James Corden. Indeed, I’ve always wondered how someone like Mila could be friends with such an egocentric person. But you know how it is, I just brushed it off because I simply didn’t care about him, and also because at the time (2016 when I officially entered the fandom) the IKWYDLS era was already over for a while. BUT, my first impression of him became very true years later when they started this ridiculous charade.

Not only is he self-centered and with a huge ego, he’s also one of the most fake people I’ve ever seen. Why am I saying this? Because although I don’t know him and consequently, I don’t know if he was already like that before he became famous, Shon is the typical empty celebrity without a personality that has become the role he was set to be in the beginning. The perfect product. They wanted to sell the good guy. The sensitive and different from the others (and that’s where the bullshit of being a ‘singer-songwriter’ came from). And since this idea in itself only partially worked, they made him work on his body so they could sell that too. To sell the unreachable good guy. Superman, as he defines himself 😂. The problem of Shawn and his team, is with people who have not stopped to just look at the fake goody to shoes image that they wanted and want to continue selling.

The way I see him, Shoe’s just a selfish kid. Everything always revolves around him. Everything is and must be about him. He lives to be loved. He lives for the attention. He lives for the approval of others. Everyone must necessarily like him. There’s no one else besides him. Do you know what he reminds me of? He reminds me of a child who asks his mom for attention. ‘Mommy, how did I do? You liked it, didn’t you? Was I good? I can do better if you want, I know I can do better’. I don’t even think he realizes he’s like that because he’s so full of himself and so clouded by himself. Oh and, you know what I’ve been realizing lately? Many of his fans really believe he grew his hair out because Paruparo asked him to (I’d never have believed this bullshit even under torture), but now more than ever I’m convinced that he did it to copy one of his obsessions for years, that is, Matthew McConaughey. My personal problem with this look of his is the fact that he’s now starting to look more and more like Jon Snow (any Game of Thrones fans like me here?), aka one of the characters I can’t stand the most of that amazing TV series. And this, is making me dislike him even more.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I hate him and that I consider him the devil. In fact, I think there’s a lot but A LOT worse than him out there. I really, REALLY, dislike him, but I don’t hate him. Do I follow him on social media? Yes, but only on IG. Did I listen to his music? Yes, but illegally, and I liked some of his songs because as usual, I distinguish the art from the artist. I’ve never bought his music, I’ve never streamed it, I’ve never gone to one of his concerts, and the only views I’ve ever given him are only for music videos (not even all of them) on YouTube and only because other channels can’t violate copyrights by taking and posting them on their own. Indeed, you know how I’m gonna listen to his album? Thanks to the YouTube channels of his fans who will post his songs.

But anyway. I’ve dwelt too much on #pleasenoticeme #pleaseloveme, I’d say that’s enough. I’m gonna conclude with my final thoughts on the main topic of my post, that is, the fake PR relationships. I wanna explain to u guys why a fake relationship like Shazam’s and our Mila’s is so obvious as PR.

A PR relationship MUST create doubt in people’s heads and MUST NOT look perfect at all. Why? Because otherwise people WOULD NOT TALK ABOUT IT. If it looked like a basic relationship, a common relationship, people wouldn’t talk about it because they wouldn’t find anything strange about it. They wouldn’t speculate, they wouldn’t look for clues, they wouldn’t watch every move. They wouldn’t be thirsty. They’d just get bored. Yes, there would be the initial boom of the ‘new couple’, but then everything would end and people would move on to look for something else to entertain them. The main point of a PR relationship is to make people speculate, and if people don’t constantly talk about it, then it would be all pointless because it would make no sense to create a fake relationship in the first place.

Way to stop this act or any other act? Stop giving them fucking attention! You want to talk about it, speculate, look for evidence, and make theories amongst you friends? Do it! That’s great actually. I do it myself. But fucking tagging them?? 🤨😒🙄

If all the fans who know the real TRUTH stop talking about it by tagging them, tweeting them, etc. their ‘story’ would end. Sure, their teams would try to create something to attract attention again, like a kiss or a scoop, but if ignored even then, everything would end immediately. Why? Precisely because they were unable to complete their task. And in that case, the two celebs would ‘break up’ with a big scandal that would still bring attention back to them, although in this case, the attention would FINALLY be on both celebrities in a singular way and no longer as a couple. The next goal would be for fans and media to find out ‘what happened’ and ‘why’, while for managers it would be to create a scoop on those questions that keep them talking about them, and if all goes well, maybe even get them ‘back together’, and so on, until they have a better idea. But, if they fail even then, even though they’ve not reached the date scheduled in the contract, they would ‘break up’ without any more surprises.

And that’s all for now, my fellows CS. Remember to hold on and to not lose hope. Be patient. And above all, try not to freak out and get very angry as soon as you listen to the album. We already know it’s all bullshit.

I’m sending you a virtual hug 🤗🤗 Always with love, F ❤️

#FA #submission #f anon

[internalsealpanic]

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form. 

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

 

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention.  He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse. 

 

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you. 

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’.  Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion).  Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again. 

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two- 

 

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin. 

 

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

 

“It isn’t bullshit!”

 

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

 

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth. 

 

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

 

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face. 

 

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz. 

 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week. 

 

Cosmo

 

Space Case

 

Space Nuts

 

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

 

ET

 

Marvin (the Martian)

 

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

 

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

 

 He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

 

 Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long.  Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

 

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to. 

 

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you. 

 

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

 

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

 

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid. 

 

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them. 

 

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said. 

 

Him?

 

Out of your league? 

 

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around? 

 

What the hell? 

 

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence.  You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape. 

 

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise. 

 

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.  

 

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

 

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,” 

 

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

 

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

 

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

 

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table. 

 

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in. 

 

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year. 

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining? 

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

 

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

 

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

 

 Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

 

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

 

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,”  Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.   

 

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive. 

 

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

 

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him. 

 

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode. 

 

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim. 

 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination. 

 

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-” 

“Preach!” Steph jokes. 

 

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

 

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. 

 

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response.  You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank. 

 

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse. 

 

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.  

 

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy. 

 

Now’s your chance.  

 

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

 

“No,”

 

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.  

 

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

 

“9 AM?”

 

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

 

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity. 

 

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

Bonus: 

 

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown. 

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

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

Thanks for reading!!!!!

Taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish, @batarella, @batarella-mini, @birdy-bat-writes, @anothertimdrakestan, @founduebitches , @lucy-roo

#tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #tim drake #batboys #step brother #wingmanning is hard #batfam #red robin #dc fanfiction #dc x reader

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 11 - FAST

tw // violence, swearing

----

I have never, ever told anyone my secrets. I've barely even told them my real name. But everything Fury had said felt like a stab to the chest. I didn't like the fact that he had that power over me. To hear someone say the things I've only thought about in the dark out loud was making me feel exposed. I wanted that to end, and quick.

He was right. That was what angered me the most. Every syllable, every word he had uttered was dangerously close to the truth. No one knew I had nightmares. And no one knew I lived most of my life in the darkness of the Red Room. These were things that I kept to myself. But somehow, Nick Fury got his dirty hands on my secrets, and I wanted the one who put their nose in my business to pay.

"What makes you think someone told me these things?" He inquired. I wasn't interested in his game anymore. I just wanted him to get straight to the point.

"The fact that you question the possibility is a sign." I dug my fingers into my own skin, fighting the anger away. I couldn't let it get out of my control, not now. No matter how much I wanted to strangle him to death, I couldn't risk getting killed. At least not until I find out who spilled my secrets. "Answer me, Fury. How did you get the information?"

He took a deep breath, pausing before he said, "Through a reliable source."

"A source that happened to know everything about me? You're a horrible liar." I scowled. "I made sure those sources were dead. Hell, anyone who knows even my favourite colour is six feet under." Or you know, burnt to ashes. A very creative way of disposing and cremating, I'd say.

"I beg to differ."

"Oh? So, I wasn't the one who killed them? I wasn't the one who murdered them with my own two hands? Who watched them take their very last breath with my own two eyes?" I watched him squirm in his seat, it was subtle but I caught it. "I guess they burned their own bodies."

He laughed, raising his eyebrows in mock humour. "That's cute."

"Adorable, I know." I grinned, but I knew the usual playful sass it carried was lacking. I was dripping venom. "Someone new told you these things. And if you want my full loyalty..." I turned my head to the mirror, which was obviously built for people to look in. If I guessed right, a group of Avengers were standing right behind it.

"Then you'll let me slit their throat."

The man let out a loud laugh, baring his teeth as he did so. "We have files of you, too, you know. Don't need to get so dramatic, L/N. You're not as secretive as you think."

"God. You can stop trying to lie now, Nicholas. There is no file. Even if there was, it would be useless. I wiped all my records clean and I made sure of that." I leaned forward. "Now, tell me the name."

On the other side of the mirror, a certain Avenger was trying her hardest not to run away.

"She's going to kill me." Wanda let out a sharp breath, her heart racing fast. She didn't think herself as someone who scared easily, but the look in Y/N's eyes shook her to her core. "She's already overpowered me once. I'm too weak against her. My powers-"

"-are strong enough to defend yourself against L/N. You have nothing to worry about, Wanda." Pietro cut in, trying to comfort his sister. He kneeled in front of her as she sat, looking into her eyes.

"I meddled in her mind. I invaded her privacy." She stood up from her seat, her chair screeching against the floor as she pushed it forcefully. She was trying her hardest to not explode into a flurry of emotions. God, if stress was visible in colours, she'd look like a damn festival.

"We needed you to." This time it was Steve who spoke up. "What you did was necessary, and if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have even gotten close to her accepting the offer."

"Besides, she's just playing mind games." Natasha chipped in. "She's trying to get Fury to break."

"Well, it might not look like it's working on him but I'm definitely affected." The young woman's eyes glowed red once more, the familiar scarlet waves swimming through and around her fingers. She tried to focus on the warmth, trying to find comfort in the familiar surge of her powers.

"Calm down." Pietro put his hands on her shoulders, urging her to stay seated. "She can't do anything to you. We won't let her." And he swore on that.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm sure Fury's got it all under control." Tony moved from the mirror to join his friends in comforting the young witch. "Plus, Pietro's right. We won't let her mess with you."

Wanda chuckled, amused at her family's antics of trying to cool her down."Are you just trying to calm me down so I don't accidentally blow this building up, or do you guys actually care about me?"

"A little bit of both." Tony shrugged. A small laugh escaped her.

"Guys." Natasha's voice brought them back to the problem at hand. Everyone moved to the mirror.

"You can shove that up your motherfucking ass, L/N."

The conversation had gotten heated. The room went still as everyone anticipated Y/N's next words. But then they couldn't hear her anymore.

"He muted us." Tony huffed.

Nick had disabled the speakers, and all they could see was him screaming at her, pointing in the direction of the two-way mirror.

Nobody moved.

Y/N was laughing, her body shaking as she cackled. They could see her mouthing a few more words before Nick slammed his palms onto the table and walked out, leaving her with a smug smile on her face.

Everyone's blood went cold.

"Wanda." The door suddenly opened, revealing a stone-faced Nick Fury. "I'm afraid it's gotten out of my control."

———

After approximately two hours, two men dressed in the familiar S.H.I.E.L.D attire came into the room I was in, and then led me outside to a well-lit hallway. The walls were stark-white, strips of light lining up at the sides of the ceiling.

"Where are you taking me?" I turned to the taller one of them two, trying to get him to look me in the eyes. But he kept his head straight, dragging me along as he walked.

"The Director ordered us to take you to him." He didn't react. He was like a robot...not even an ounce of emotion behind his eyes. I bet he'd be very good at playing poker. Maybe I should ask.

"Can't he just get me himself?" I whined like an ass, wanting to get at least some reaction out of him. But he stayed silent, barely affected. I huffed, turning to the other one instead. He was bald and he looked very angry.

"Is he always like this?" I pretended to laugh. Bald Man gave me nothing but a fierce sideways glance. This was boring. They were boring me. "Fine. Don't talk. Can't believe S.H.I.E.L.D hires people with dry humour."

"Hey...out of curiosity, do you play poker by any chance?" I genuinely wanted to know. Tall Man threw me a dirty look before turning his head away again. Still no damn reply, though.

"Jeez. It's just a question." I stopped talking immediately. I wasn't going to waste my breath on these two assholes.

Just as I was about to bask in the silence, a loud crash echoed through the hallway, the sound of gunfire and shouts bouncing off the white walls.

"GET DOWN!"

I heard the familiar whizz of a bullet coming towards us, and immediately dived to the floor, stomach flat on the ground. It hurt like a bitch, but I'd take a couple of bruises over a bullet any day.

The two men beside me immediately reached for their handguns, aiming it at whoever shot at us. I couldn't see, too busy trying to dodge bullets to focus on the attacker. It was a cursed situation. I was in handcuffs, and I had no weapon whatsoever.

Yet here I was, getting shot at in the hallway of S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters. What have I gotten myself into?

"Search for her!" I heard a male voice shouting in the middle of all the commotion. Could it be? This wasn't just anyone. The minute I heard his voice, my blood went cold and I froze in my tracks.

He was here. And he was coming to get me.

"We have to get her out of here!" Tall Man yelled to his friend.

I heard the familiar crackle of a radio from where Bald Man was, "Code Red! Code Red! We've got a breach in the security system-"

A gunshot cut him off.

"Damn it–Tall Guy! I think this is the part where you take my handcuffs off!" I prayed he would comply. Please just get me out of here, please.

He didn't respond, so I rolled over to my back and heaved myself up, hands still bound. I couldn't be here. He was here. How did they find out where I was?

It took me years to get off their radar. I was invisible for so long, it seemed like I was so close to being forgotten. But they never forget.

Hydra never forgets.

I ran blindly through the hallway. Somewhere in the commotion, they threw smoke-bombs at us. Even if I wanted to run, I'd risk running into them.

Thousands of possibilities swam through my mind. Was this really the end for me? For my freedom?

My panic levels surged as I felt a pair of hands grab my shoulders. I yelled, but I ducked out of their weak grip quickly, landing on the ground with a hard thud as my imbalance overpowered me. It was an unfamiliar face wearing an all-too-familiar emblem on her chest.

"You." She grinned.

"Yeah, no shit, it's me." I tried to scurry away from her, dragging my body pathetically on the ground as she creeped closer to me. The minite she was close enough, I swung my right foot across her feet. She fell on her ass immediately.

Old-school trick. Hydra's hiring idiots, now?

I scoffed before moving into action, swiping her gun away from her holster and shooting at her stomach. She clutched her wound, howling in pain as blood flowed out. I couldn't afford to think twice about it.

I ran again, this time in the opposite direction of where she had come from. Then I bumped into a brick-hard chest.

Panicked, I aimed my gun at the intruder. Only to find a silver-haired man at the end of the barrel of my gun. He held his arms up. "Don't shoot."

"I could pull the trigger right now." I was breathless–not only from fatigue, but from anxiety. "I would, you know."

He didn't say anything, but he did move. It was a hell of a blur, and just as I blinked, he held my gun in his hand while I stood empty-handed.

"Now you can't." He raised an eyebrow.

"Find her! Now!" It was his voice again.

Pietro's eyes flicked from my face to the area behind me. I turned away from him again, scanning the place for an escape. There was none.

My hands were cuffed. I had no weapon. I had no advantage. I was at a dead end.

There was only one way out of this. Unless I was willing to walk head-first into hell again. And God knew I would take this road just to avoid the other consequence.

"Alright. I give up."

"What?"

"I pledge my fucking loyalty to you. Or whatever it is that you want. I swear." I looked into his eyes, desperate for him to oblige, to listen. "Now get me out of here. Fast."

#run pietro x reader #avengers reader insert #pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #pietro x you #pietro maximoff fic #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel reader insert #mcu #steve rogers #natasha romanoff

[golden-barnes]

Divinità

Prologue: Salvezza

Bucky Barnes X F! Reader

Description of the series: Au! Divinità. A deity. A goddess. One that Bucky has only seen 3 times before and now he can’t get Y/N out of his head. So he decided to put an idealized version of Y/N in his books. But what will happen when he gets to meet the real Y/N? Will you still be his deity?

Summary: (Salvation) The three times Bucky has seen Y/N and how his life changed because of that.

Warning: Curse words, grumpy Bucky, ptsd attacks and war mentions

Word count:1.5k words (I think that’s a lot for a prologue but I got carried away) 

A/N: I (loosely) based this off the Dante Alighieri and Beatrice Portinari story but with a modern twist. This is my first series in years, so I am a little rusty but I am very excited about it.

Past:

The first time he saw her: 

James Buchanan Barnes hated the center. And he made it goddamn clear that it was the worst and that he rather be anywhere else than there. After coming home from his last tour, with one less hand, Sam and Steve decided it would be for the best that he went to the Military Rehabilitation Center. He understood why they wanted him to get help and it wasn’t like they forced him, he truly wanted to get better. He was grateful that they cared about him so much to help him. And the center helped him a lot. He was getting fewer nightmares. The nurses were nice. He likes his physical therapist, even though he thinks that she underestimates him. But he is making some progress, more than anyone in the center. The food is decent, a lot better than what he ate when he was stationed. He liked going to the small library that they had in the center. There was a little park next to the center that he likes to go for a run in the mornings. He was finally starting to feel normal, or rather as normal as he could possibly get. 

His psychologist, on the other hand, is a nuisance. It wasn’t that he is a bad guy, it’s just that Bucky hates talking about himself and he swears the psychologist is out to get him.Sam thinks that he is just being dramatic but he still claims that he hates him. He recommended (even though Bucky says that he ordered him) to keep a journal. To fuck with him, Bucky decided to write some random things. They were borderline poems but Bucky would never admit that. In one of his journal entries, he wrote  about some french fries he ate in Belgium. One time he just rambled about a blue bird. Doc wasn’t pleased with that one in particular.

“You have to write about your feelings, Mr Barnes. That is what the journal is for.” He reprimanded  him in one of his sessions. But Bucky wasn’t going to go down without a fight. That is until today.

His session with the irritating physiologist started normal. The whole "How do you feel Barnes?" and "did you have any nightmares last night or any anxiety attacks?"  Which the answer was yes. He didn't particularly wake up on the right side of the bed. Meaning that this session was getting on his nerves more than usual.

Then there was a knock on a door before he could answer the doctor's questions.

"Excuse me, doctor. The director told me to come get you. Apparently there's a situation in the lunchroom." From the door emerged the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. Her presence just filled the room, in a way he has never seen. It was as if she was radiating calmness. For a few minutes, all of his worries and his fears just vanished. His mind was only focused on her. On the way her eyes were warm and made him feel comfort. On the smile she was giving him. Oh that smile. He knew that he was now addicted to it and would do anything to see it again.

“Behold, a deity stronger than I; who coming, shall rule over me.”

 Was the first thing that came into his mind when she left the room with the psychologist. That night when he wrote in his journal, he wrote about her. 

A month later;

The second time he saw her

Veteran’s day in the center wasn’t as fun as a lot of people think it is. It would be crowded with family members. Kids would bring their toys to show them to their grandparents. There would be a cookout outside for all the vets and their families. Even fucking games, there were little challenges and shit for the families to have fun with. The ruckus was too much for Bucky. Bucky always made it a point not to celebrate this holiday.

 “First of all, it’s dumb. If you wanted to do something for the veterans, maybe you should give the centers more money to operate. And, I don’t know, make more fucking centers. Second of fucking all, why make so much noise? Seriously, can’t we have ONE silent holiday?” He once told Sam and Steve. To which Sam replied with a “stop being such a grumpy motherfucker”.

This year, he decided to hide in the library instead of his room. He wanted to finish this new book Steve brought him in peace and quiet. And since the library was on the other side of the rehabilitation center, he knew it was gonna be his little safe haven. What he didn’t expect was to see her there.

He stopped at the entrance, astonished and amazed. With a flowy flower dress and peonies in her hand. She was looking at the books that they had. Running her fingers over the spines of the books. Why would she have flowers? Why was she here? Was she staying?

She turned around to see him and gave him the same addicting smile that she gave him the other day.

“I thought I was going to be the only one here. I was just looking at the books. Don’t worry I’m going to leave.” Bucky swears her voice is like honey to his ears. His senses were overpowered by the smell of her perfume. Was that vainilla? Or was it cinnamon? He couldn't guess. He was stuck there. He couldn’t talk or move. She gave him another warm smile, one that made her eyes crinkle a bit. Bucky would bet anything to have her permanently smile like that.

“Oh before I leave, here’s a flower. Happy veteran’s day. Thank you for everything” She gave him one of her peonies. Their fingers slightly touched and Bucky felt a small shock. He probably looked super dumb to her. With widened eyes and his mouth slightly opened, he probably looked like an idiot. Damn it Bucky, she might think that you are a creep. 

She smiled again and pointed at the door. Fuck, I haven’t moved from the entrance. She can’t pass. Way to go Barnes! 

“Thank you soldier.”She winked at him. But little did she know that he wouldn’t stop thinking of her wink. 

Another one for the journal, I guess. He thought letting his mind run wild with the image of her.

Two months later; 

The third time he saw her

James Buchanan Barnes was consumed by two thoughts. Number one, he had finished all his physical therapy and his nightmares and panic attacks were less, but he was much better at dealing with it. So that means that it was his last week at the center. He was so happy. He has already said goodbye to all the nurses, his doctors and he even said a nice goodbye to his insufferable psychologist, who he in the end grew to like. He was packing all his things and was waiting in the reception area for Steve to pick him up.

His second thought was her. He hadn’t seen her since that Veteran’s day where he acted like an idiot in front of her. Fucking damn it. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Almost every night since then, he kept writing about her. It was like his brain was trapped in a box, captured until he wrote out everything he could about her. He never even formed a formal conversation with her, but he still couldn’t help but think about her. About how her presence soothes him. How her smile filled him with joy. How the flower she gave him was the most important thing he has ever received. Hell, he learned how to press flowers and made it into his bookmark. 

“These last entries were really good Mister Barnes. It is like something I would see in a poetry book.” His psychologist once noted. And he couldn't help to agree with him. She had become his muse. And I don’t even know her name.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. As if Bucky called her with his mind, she appeared. With the same heart melting smile and the brightest aura. The receptionist even smiled when she saw her. She walked in, and the room got lighter. Can a human glow? Because Bucky thinks that she is glowing, as if small specks of glitter were emanating from her body and reflecting back at him. Did it make sense? Not one bit, but Bucky couldn’t describe it any other way. 

“Good morning Y/N. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up again.”  Y/N let out a soft chuckle at the receptionist’s words. She reached to sign in the sign in list. 

“Buck! Hey buddy, ready to go?” Steve had walked in and Bucky hadn’t even noticed

“Ye-yeah. Let’s go” Grabbing his bags, he started to walk out the center. But not without giving Y/N one last look.

If salvation had another name, Bucky would bet his life that it was Y/N.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #wintersoldier x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 16

First time reader click here

Summary/TWs: Trouble is brewing. Canon-typical violence, graphic descriptions of wounds and Clint whump. Bad, terrible, no-good medical accuracy. Aliens. Reader is an anxious genius with low self-esteem and PTSD. ✨spicy sadness✨

From now on, chapters will be posted un-beta-ed. She's taking a lil break. 💖💝✨

I liked to think I had made peace with the fact that my boys and girls had one hell of a dangerous job. Natasha, Clint, Steve and Bucky frequently left for missions and while I missed their usual bickering in the background, it wasn't like the tower's common room became absolutely quiet. The fact that they mostly did recon-only missions helped, too, as they would come home unharmed and in one piece. The worry was there but subtle - like setting the table and including silverware for the people who were gone on a mission.

Peter's patrols went less smoothly, usually. He was small and even in his spider-suit, the boy was frequently underestimated by common thugs. Apparently, they didn't know how to read the news - it was blatantly obvious the hero was enhanced. And yet somehow, Pete more often than not sported all sorts of bruises, scratches and tears.

Tony and I routinely tore out our hair over the spiderboy's carelessness. The engineer had a funny way of showing he cared for Peter. Once I got to know him better, my brain dubbed them as Irondad and Spiderson. And it wasn't weird at all, somehow, that I was basically fucking my best friend's dad. Tony never made me uncomfortable, if anything, he went to great lengths to accommodate my whims. Tony continuously found time for me, answered my dumb questions and soldiered through the shenanigans I got up to after having too much caffeine and too little sleep.

Sitting in the quiet, empty common room was unnerving. It was shortly after dinner time - the evening news skipped their usual political debate in favour of the battle that was raging downtown, the reason for my headache and wrung hands.

I missed Tony's running mouth. The aliens the team was fighting looked quite hilarious, murderous intentions aside, and I could only imagine the way Tony and Clint would mock them. Hentai rejects. Tentacle porn knock-offs. The aliens were squid-like, about half the size of a human and very, very slippery, from what I spied on the TV.

An irritated-looking Stephen had me equal parts apprehensive and drooling - one after another, he conjured up a series of small portals, teleporting the aggressive octopods only god knew where. It would have looked incredibly badass if not for the exhausted sheen of sweat I could see on his brow, even despite the camera footage being shaky and grainy.

The news footage showed Tony - Iron Man, soaring contentedly through the darkening skies and taking out the squirmy mass of tentacles with his plasma beam repulsors. Steve and Bucky and Loki appeared too, sporadically, being well-oiled murder machines. Nothing new.

Yet, I worried. The little worm of doubt was squirming full-force. I tried to ignore it, yet pacing, sitting and playing Candy Crush got me nowhere. I pestered Friday to order pizza, the team's usual post-mission order plus a large one for me - stress-eating was better than stress-popping-molly in a tower full of superheroes. It took some courage to admit to myself I'd gotten attached enough to be this much from running away from all that in a blind panic.

And it would be the best option for them, really, because they had much sensible things to worry about than me. Yet every time, my selfishness won against even the most logical arguments I presented. I hated fighting myself but it was all I did - not only I was in love with Tony, I loved him.

Even when he forgot about my existence for five days, to emerge from his workshop with a new piece of tech that revolutionised one or another or something else. I loved him when he annoyed the ever living fuck out of everybody, me included, because I knew that it was hilarious to see people getting riled up over totally trivial shit. I loved Tony Stark when he ran away from his feelings, and everybody else's, because he never managed to run far enough. Or he didn't want to. I loved him, because he was like a multilayered puzzle, complex and captivating and beautiful.

I thought a lot about it, more than people would have noticed. For someone as selfish and goal-oriented as me, Tony lived in my head rent-free most of the time. And nobody would find out if I had the choice because let's face it, I'm a short cameo in his life. I'm a fuckin' catch and even then, I can't expect to hold his attention forever. His genius is too brilliant to settle for one when he could easily have the whole damn world.

Another hour consisted of me pacing and accompanying the pizza delivery boys to the common floor. It was hilarious - they were obviously star-struck about walking the same carpet as their heroes. I could see the faint hope of meeting one of the Avengers in their eyes, their posture. All they got was me - in my sweatpants, Tony's tee and no bra. My tits got the attention they deserved, at least.

My lounging was interrupted by a golden circle noisily appearing in the middle of the room, followed by Clint abruptly falling through it with a pained moan. I froze, the pizza in my mouth turning to ash - Strange poked his head through the hole in space, finding my eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Help him, I don't have much time," He breathed and disappeared, closing the portal behind himself.

The pizza piece flew back in the box as I stumbled, jumped over the headrest, kneeling beside Clint in no time. "Bird, tell me what hurts," I demanded. Not that I had a clue what to do. I mean, I knew basic first aid and...

"My leg," He gritted out, curling in on himself. Fear flooded me, limbs turning to lead. Hawk had a good pain tolerance, I knew he could break an arm and not utter a single syllable until he thought it safe to showcase his vulnerability. "That squid motherfucker stung me, I don't know. My whole body is on fire," His speech was slurred.

I nodded, deciding to limit the touching to only the necessary actions. The leg of his pants was torn and the wound itself was shaped like a whip mark, thin and red and angry. It oozed a yellowish pus-like substance, it smelled bitter, almost like stale water and seaweed salad. I didn't know much about aliens but jellyfish stings, I could work with. A short Google check later, I had an approximate plan.

"Friday, run diagnostics." I ordered, taking a deep breath and filing away the fear, the panic and anxiety for later.

"Mr. Barton has a wound that appears to be contaminated with an unknown chemical that is causing an adverse reaction. The elevated body temperature suggests that his immune system is fighting it. I would suggest a blood test to examine the offending specimens."

A blood draw? I could do that. I definitely, absolutely, could do that.

"Bird, Clint, did you hear that?" I gently touched his shoulder only for him to recoil from my hand, muttering unintelligibly. "Pretty bird, I'm going to help you. Let me." My bedside manner needed improvement - with brain running a mile a minute, I babbled utter nonsense as Friday directed me to the needed supplies. Getting the blood was a feat on it's own - I had to physically sit on top of Clint to get but a tiny vial of the red liquid.

A few tears escaped the emotional fortress I had to build within myself. Clint was in so, so much pain - pain I was inadvertently making worse by touching him. I sprinted to Bruce's lab, feeding the sample to be analysed by Friday, tearing through the room in a hurricane. First aid kit, IV, saline, antibiotics. Restraints, too, just in case.

"Analysis complete. The contaminant appears to be acting similarly to a parasitic infection with a short life-span. Primarily feeds on copper, iron and various metals contained in the human body. Does not appear to reproduce or multiply, my algorithms cannot determine the cause of said behaviour. Calculating..." Friday's mechanical voice paused. "I have calculated the approximate duration of Mr. Barton's symptoms. Onset of critical stage in one to three hours. Complete extinction of parasitic organisms in approximately sixty hours."

"Fri, do you think I have a chance of saving Clint before he goes crazy from pain? And have you figured out what's causing it?" My brain was all over the place.

"I have the best faith in you, miss." The AI sounded almost... Comforting? "I am still running multiple diagnostics. My algorithms suggest the organisms may be attacking the nerve endings - reason unclear."

An idea struck me. A crazy, brash, absurd idea. The pathogen was alien and we didn't have antibiotics to kill it. Even if I gave Clint some sort of medicine, it could go awry really really quickly. Besides, wasn't there a medical team for this..?

"Friday, alert the medical suite."

"Request denied. Per Mr. Stark's protocols, only Sir himself and Dr. Banner are authorized to request medical assistance in case of alien pathogen contamination."

"Fuck. Fuck, that makes no fuckin' sense!" I yelled helplessly. "Okay, do you have blood matching Clint's type laying around?" I asked sarcastically. This protocol pissed me off. What was Tony scared of? That someone would steal alien germs? Too late for that, there were plenty of samples all over the sidewalks downtown.

"A-positive, blue refrigerator, top shelf." Friday's answer was curt.

My hands shook. My whole body shook. Clint was laying in fetal position right where I'd left him and the man wasn't looking better - he became paler, dark circles under his eyes, clammy sweat breaking on every exposed part of his skin. Moving him was out of the question - Clint violently recoiled from me once I tried to touch him.

Reluctantly, I dragged the dining room chairs and piled up whatever heavy things I could on top of them, praying to every god that they would hold a trained man trash around in pain. Then, came the restraints. Belts with clips unlike one could see in a movie with a psych ward. I fumbled with them, then with Clint - very slowly, but I got both of his arms fastened and the man rolled onto his back.

"Wwhat... S'appening..?" Hawk finally slurred, cracking his eyes to see my (probably) disheveled and panicked face.

"This is going to hurt, I won't lie. A lot," I rambled, setting up the tools needed for both a blood draw and a blood transfusion. "I'm not a doctor. I'm not a scientist. You have alien parasites in your blood. I'm going to get rid of em," I announced, not mentioning the fact that I had to Google all the things I was going to do to him.

"S'okay, I trust you," Clint slurred again, moving about much more weakly than before. The tips of his fingers began to turn blue and the blood vessels on his face stood out in a pink-purple web. Not good.

My finest thinking moment: laying out some tarp around the archer and putting on gloves and a mask to minimize the possibility of getting infected. I started with the wound first, carefully wiping away the yellowish goop and immediately sealing it into a biohazard container. Some alcohol around the edges, the wound began emanating a faint wisp of smoke as Clint yelled hoarsely. I didn't even react - man, aliens and their germs were fuckin' weird.

Another biohazard container traveled next to Clint's arm. I had a disposable scalpel in one hand and my courage in another - it was now or never. The vein I was cutting was a minor one, but with Clint's body in total disarray, it was an ugly fountain of pinkish-purple liquid that spurted from it. I was no doctor but blood shouldn't have looked like that.

I stared at the timer on my phone. Twenty seconds, thirty, fifty. Eighty seconds, the blood was beginning to have more of a red hue. Clint's breathing slowed, tremors subsiding by a smidgen. One hundred and eighty seconds, the stream was a healthy deep red colour. With a swift motion, I wrapped up the wound, folded his arm, tied off the blood flow higher up his arm with a spare restraint. Clint wasn't moving much anymore; my hand that periodically checked his pulse shook but dutifully did it's job. His heart was working steady.

Compared to having to drain a friend of his blood, setting up the IV with a transfusion was a walk in the park. My mind was empty of any thoughts but for the actions needed to complete the process.

The container with contaminated blood, closed, sealed and put in a plastic bag, along with the gloves and the tarp. My own exposed flesh, meticulously scrubbed with alcohol until the skin became red and raw. All the instruments, Clint's pants, my clothes - in the bag.

The archer himself was laying still, his breathing steady and calm, face no longer looking like he was one step away from the grave. After undoing the restraints, I wiped down every surface we touched with Tony's vodka - rubbing alcohol had run out and I was too emotionally drained to go downstairs and leave Clint for too long. Whenever the booze collided with a stray drop of blood, a wispy smoke emerged. Such an interesting reaction. Part of me couldn't wait to examine the phenomena together with Bruce. The other part was considering the possibility of having a panic attack in a seafood restaurant.

"Fri, keep an eye- a sensor on Clint for me, will ya? I need a shower and some pants," I denounced tiredly, padding to the communal shower. I found respite, however brief, under the steam for a few minutes. Then I found Tony's old tee and a pair of someone's sweats - I didn't care whose. Post-stress adrenaline shivers had me feeling stark naked in the middle of Alaska despite the room being a toasty, comfortable temperature according to the digital thermostat.

Now I just had to think about what to tell the team.

Propping Clint's head on a decorative pillow and covering him with a soft fleece blanket was the least I could have done for the long suffering archer. The floor was hard but I sat next to him, running a hand through his matted hair, my brain an incomprehensible mess.

✨ TAGLIST OF MY LOVELIES (OPEN) ✨

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader

[crash-cinematic-universe]

Beauty Lies in the Pockets of a Silver Jacket

pairing: peter maximoff/fem!reader

summary/request:  Hey love! So first of all, the Kit fluff that you wrote, I absolutely adored! I was wondering if you could write a Peter Maximoff fluff x reader where either he finds you wearing his Pink Floyd shirt or dyed your hair silver because you “thought his style was cool” or something like that? If not it’s okay 🖤 (PS: I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH 🖤)  *AND* Okay but I also came up with another idea for peter x reader and I hope that’s okay, but what if, your watching a scary movie and you jump into his arms and can hear his heart beating abnormally fast or something like that? Sorry I’m just in a Maximoff fluff kinda mood. 🥺🖤 - @lokiqueenofasgard

warnings: smut, mostly. peter is kinda submissive

notes: ahah, 2k words. also two fics out in one day? i am. doin great

___

            ‘Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder’ is a phrase that any mildly insecure person has heard at least once before, although the true meaning behind it has been lost. It no longer means ‘beauty doesn't exist on its own but is created by observers’, instead being used to say ‘there has to be *someone* out there who thinks you’re beautiful’. Peter Maximoff has heard this phrase more times than he can count from almost any man or woman he’s come into contact with; he usually hears this after his romantic advances are rejected on the grounds of his physical appearance and sense of style. That is, every man or woman  except you. That’s because, in your eyes, Peter Django Maximoff is the hottest motherfucker on Earth. 

          Everything about Peter is attractive, at least in your eyes. His style, his personality, his physical appearance and the way he carries himself-- it’s all incredibly appealing. Peter doesn’t know you think that, however, and if he did he would most likely wholeheartedly disagree. That’s why you’ve devised a master plan; Halloween is coming up, and you decided to go as your silver companion. Then he would see that he was, in fact, very beautiful. You’d also get to embody the signature look that Peter had created for himself. It was a win-win.

            You collected the whole get up: you stole his Pink Floyd shirt, managed to find some worn-down jeans in the back of your closet, and you nabbed Peter’s goggles while he was out for a run. However, acquiring Peter’s signature silver jacket has proved to be much harder than you originally anticipated. No matter how hard you try, you can never sneak off with his jacket. He’s always wearing it, and during the rare occurrences he isn’t wearing it you never find an opportunity to grab it. Halloween was less than a week away, and without that damn jacket, you couldn’t be Peter. You had one last real chance to nab Peter’s jacket; your weekly movie night.

          Unfortunately for you, the movie Peter had selected Poltergeist; the thriller film is one of Peter’s favorites, almost guaranteeing that he would remain awake for the duration of it. If he never fell asleep, you’d have to get the jacket off of him in a different way. To make matters worse, Poltergeist scares the living shit out of you. With Halloween only two days away, your window of opportunity is closing. However, you convince yourself that another chance will present itself-- you might as well enjoy the movie, right?

          When you showed up at the Maximoff household, your mind was elsewhere. With every passing moment you looked for an opportunity to take his jacket. However, you quickly gave up once the movie began, deciding to snuggle up next to Peter in an attempt to soothe your anxiety.

          Then, as if the director was trying to give you a heart attack, someone jumps at the camera, a loud noise echoing through the room. Your muscles tense, your fight or flight triggering as you scramble into Peter’s arms. You fall into Peter’s lap, quickly gripping his shoulders and hiding your face in his neck. He laughs nervously, wrapping his arms haphazardly around you. Your ear is pressed to his skin, and there’s only one sound that you can focus on. Peter’s sporadic, rapidly beating heart. You look up at Peter’s flushed face, an odd expression of panic written all over his features. 

          You quickly pull back, shifting in Peter’s lap in order to get a better read of his features. His lip is caught between his teeth, this eyes darting away from yours. He’s rigid and tense and it looks almost as if he’s in pain.

          “What’s wrong, Maximoff?” You question, leaning forward a bit where you sat. Peter’s muscles tensed as he sucked in a harsh breath.

          “Uh, n-nothing, don’t worry about it.” He assured, his face conveying the complete opposite. He’s deliberately avoiding your eyes, but eventually you catch his gaze with your own.

          His pupils are blown to the point where the inky blackness was almost completely covering his brown irises, an underlying lust behind his corneas. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that all your movement in Peter’s lap managed to get him aroused. Peter’s cheeks burn a scarlet red, his arms coming up to hide his flustered face.

          “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to--” His voice is a rushed whimper, embarrassment evident in his words. You reach up and grab his arms, pulling them down from his face revealing his watery eyes and fearful gaze. 

          “Peter,” You leant down closer to his face, his breath hitching. You speak softly, raising your hands to brush Peter’s face gently. “I’m not angry.”

          “Y-You’re not?”

          “No, I’m not.” You smirk before shifting again in Peter’s lap, this time turning your body so that your chest is pressed against his. You intentionally grind down on his crotch causing Peter to bite down on his lip, hard. Your voice is lowered to a purr as you continue. “In fact, I think it’s kinda hot.”

          Peter's eyes widen slightly, but he shows no signs of discomfort or disinterest. In fact, his hips jerk forward at your statement. He reaches up and pulls your lips to his. The tension in the room quickly switches to need as the kiss grows more heated, Peter's hands gripping your hips as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip. You gasp slightly at the sensation and Peter takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hair, your long fingers tangling in the silver strands. This isn’t exactly how you pictured the night going, but hey, you weren’t exactly complaining. 

          Peter melted like putty in your hands, with every jerk of your hips he fell deeper and deeper in a submissive state that he didn’t realize he possessed. He was on top of the world when he was settled below you, his raging boner aching in his tight jeans as he craved some form of relief. Your hands fell from his hair before slipping into his metallic jacket, quickly pushing the material off Peter’s shoulders and onto the floor. Surprisingly, the jacket didn’t cross your mind as your hands wandered under Peter’s worn-down AC/DC t-shirt. 

          Peter hesitantly pulls away from you, separating your lips with a dark blush on his face. The second Peter seemed unsure you stopped your movements, instead opting to make sure he was okay.

          “Are you okay, Peter? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or pushed too hard--” Peter is quick to cut you off.

          “N-No, it wasn’t that. I, uh, I just don’t want you to be… disappointed.” Peter’s face darkened a bit as he glanced down at his twiddling fingers.

          “Disappointed? Why would I be disappointed?” You reassuringly ran your fingers over Peter’s knuckles. He whimpered a bit at your touch and it you realized Peter was still painfully hard.

          “I’m not very… extraordinary under my clothes.” Peter says quietly, his insecurities soon becoming relevant. “I’m not particularly attractive, but I guess you already know that.” You frowned. Did Peter truly believe he wasn’t attractive? Did he really think his physical appearance would drive you away?

          “Peter, can I tell you a secret?” You ask, and Peter looks confused but slowly nods his head. “I think you’re the most attractive man I have ever seen. In fact, I think you’re so extraordinary that I decided to be you for Halloween.”

          “Me?” Peter asked in disbelief.

          “You.” You slowly crawl back into Peter’s lap, checking periodically to ensure that he wasn’t uncomfortable with your actions. He leaned into your touch, a breathy whimper escaping his throat. “Peter, will you let me show you how beautiful you are?” he nods eagerly before you reconnect your lips. Your hands absentmindedly caress Peter’s skin, your fingers toying with the hem of his t-shirt. You pull away from just a moment in order to pull Peter from the couch to his bed, quickly finding yourself on top of him again. You made the decision to take your shirt off before Peter’s, pulling the fabric over your head and exposing your body to Peter. 

          “Holy shit, you’re ethereal,” Peter marveled before running his hands over your skin. The throbbing between his legs became almost painful, and he began pleading before he truly processed what he was doing.

          “P-Please Y/n, t-touch me-- fuck-- please.” Peter practically sobbed as you hastily removed his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans. You slipped your hand into Peter’s pants as you sucked dark hickies onto his collar, his hips bucking into your touch. You pull away, earning a groan from Peter until he realizes that you were unclasping your bra, letting the fabric fall from your shoulders. The air is hot and heavy, arousal and raw need hanging in the room as you guide Peter’s hands to your chest. He fondles your breasts, watching has you grind against his thigh as you do so. 

          You hastily pull off his jeans before beginning to palm his erection through his boxers, Peter’s appreciative moans filling the room with every stroke of your hand. Peter flipped you over, now hovering above you before he pressed wet kisses on your jaw. The sudden dominance was surprising but not unwelcome, the dull ache between your legs amplified by his behavior. His lips trailed down to your chest before Peter bit gently on your nipple, pinching the other with his free hand. The mixture of pain and pleasure shooting throughout your body. You couldn’t help but let a few moans leave your lips, spurring Peter on. He soon found himself between your thighs, pulling your jeans off as fast as possible. He delves into your heat, two of his slender fingers burying themselves inside of you as he wraps his lips around your clit.

          “Oh-- fuck, P-Peter, j-just like that,” You stuttered. He waited for a moment, listening to your whimpers and mewls before he began to vibrate his fingers and tongue, smirking as you released a borderline pornographic moan. You tangled your fingers in his hair, your thighs wrapped around his head as he licked repetitive stripes through your wetness. It wasn’t much longer before your grip on his hair tightened, finally reaching your climax and releasing onto Peter’s fingers. He lapped up your juices, the taste lingering on his tongue as he pulled away. 

          By the time Peter reconnected your lips you found yourself straddling his hips once again, tugging down his boxers. You were quick to line Peter up with your entrance, the reality of the situation setting in as you lowered yourself onto his dick. The two of you moaned in sync, the feeling of Peter’s throbbing cock buried inside of you making your eyes roll back in your head. You soon began to move, finding you rhythm as you ran your hands over Peter’s body.

          “Holy shit, Peter, you f-feel so good,” You sped up a bit, and Peter began thrusting his hips with the rhythm of your movements. Peter begins to hit spots so deep inside you, you didn’t know they existed; Peter’s tip hit your cervix repeatedly. You threw your head back, burying your nails into Peter’s chest. 

          “Fuck, you’re t-tight, so fuckin’ good,” Peter moaned as he pounded into you from below. The blissed-out man began to vibrate his dick inside of you, and you practically screamed as you came around him, hard. You clenched around him so tightly that he was almost forced out of you, your spasms milking him of his own orgasm as he coated your walls with ropes of his hot cum. You weakly pulled yourself off of him, collapsing beside Peter on his bed. 

          “Well, uh… I didn’t expect that.” You laugh weakly, your chest heaving. Peter smiles before wrapping his arms around your waist. He’s hot like a space heater, warmth radiating off of him like a bonfire. 

          “Unexpected doesn’t mean bad, right?” Peter asks, an underlying worry in his voice. You kissed him on the tip of his nose making his face scrunch up. Your pointer finger absentmindedly traced his features.

          “No, not bad at all.” Peter sighs in relief, settling his head in the crook of your neck. After a few minutes of quiet chatter, Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he pulls you close, drifting off to sleep. It’s not long before you drift off as well, the silver jacket you wanted so desperately lying forgotten on the floor.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #nsft #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #irl dont look

[tuskididntwakeup]

I haven’t drunken all day, last night i woke up in the middle of the night feeling this hard pain in my stomach and i know it’s from all the drinking i do. It’s my liver and i’m worried. I usually drink everyday and that’s not normal but it’s the way i cope, Everyone chooses their poison and i’m pretty sure mine is Vals,Drinks,Toxicbf. The Valium’s are for my anxiety usually otherwise i won’t go out without them and when i do i’m constantly having anxiety hoping i don’t run into anyone ik i hate catching public transport. It’s all the shame of me and my reputation in this city, from being on the ice and having people look at me different now because the ice did change me. It changed the way i look and now i’m extremely insecure on the way my body looks, my nose, my ears, my hands, my feet, my everything. I hate it. I wish i was born someone else, i felt like before i started using drugs that i was actually pretty, i had a chance i would be photogenic and everything. Now i have these dull eyes and my facial skin looks discoloured. I try to drink the pain away, and all i ever do is try and make everyone happy. If i’m not anxious, i’m either frustrated, too happy, too excited, “ANNOYING” i’m all over the place. People ask me why i drink so much and i don’t give them a valid reason i usually say “My past” And that’s it. Drinking helps me forget about all these traumatic things that have happened in my life that have affected me mentally that i can’t even have a proper conversation without zoning out or giving up on that conversation because i get my PTSD kicking in than i completely jump out of the whole talk and forget what i was going to say or just give up on the conversation i was trying to finish. No one understands what’s really going on in someone’s head no matter what. They don’t know the measures of how bad it really can feel ,everyone is going through their something. I’m only 17, i’ve already been homeless, I’ve been addicted to ice & Xannax, MD, I’ve pretty much tried everything and when i say everything i really do mean everything .. Except for Heroin that’s one thing i haven’t but for the rest .. I have and i’ll be honest sometimes i’ll try gear (ice) when it’s in front of me but i’m not addicted like i used to be and that’s what im proud about ! My self control. The xannies were fun, but when i got sober i realised how much of a fool i really made myself out to be ,I had months of not remembering things and now i forget things easily. Md i usually do on the weekends i think we can all agree that it’s okay to do that for fun. My first addiction was weed ,and man i was a big smoker i would nonstop punch bongs all day until years after i started having these like panick attacks kinda, my heart would feel like it was going to explode i would forget how to breathe, and i would be paranoid hearing voices thinking that people are talking about me ,and people hate me, than i would actually hear these voices telling me all my insecurities and what i would hate people to call me and it was so real. I stopped obviously, my mother she’s schizophrenic and bipolar, so i knew if i kept up with smoking pot i would be one crazy motherfucker hearing voices 24/7. It was sad, because i had no other choice but to quit, smoking was an anxiety helper for me than it just gave me anxiety. Everyone wondered “Why don’t you smoke anymore” asking so many questions trying to offer me some and All i really told them was “it makes me wig out” or “it makes me pass out” Honestly didn’t want to tell them that i was hearing voices and all that because i didn’t want them to think i was some crazy bitch with issues. After i quit bud i ended up drinking, so i pretty much did replace the bud with alcohol… sadly a more physically destroying addiction. But it is what it is and i guess i am an alcoholic. i try to be better my bpd episodes usually kick in when i drink too much and than i black out and don’t remember and get told some crazy shit like i was screaming at people calling them whores for not enough reasons. thx for listening gn 🖤

#depressing poem #19th century #quoteoftheday #rap #rave #relatable quotes #reptiblr #positivity #recipes #retro #road trip #i'm sad #depressing post #may be triggering #tokyo revengers crack #my diary #late thoughts #1 am things #it’s dark #addicted #toxic love #bpd thoughts #bpd vent #bpd blog #bpd life #bpd problems #bpd mood #positive mental attitude #let it out