#my therapist asked me if id rather do A with X or with Y

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[027] — trust the victim!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i literally just bought christmas gifts for my entire family and my bank account said 📉📉📉

“no, i’m good, thanks.” satomi deadpans for the umpteenth time today.

sure, those bear costumes were adorable and the cafe just behind the pair of mascots looked like a good place to eat, but this was not the time. if she were to be late to work, she hasn’t have the slightest clue on what her boss, mr. kono would think. she just hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t be fired, but especially after that one time went out with iwaizumi, she wasn’t sure anymore. missing work as a healthcare worker was already a serious ordeal, but being part of a professional team’s sports medicine team was on another level of seriousness. hell, she got suspended for an entire week just for a night, she couldn’t spare another minute.

“are you sure?”  the shorter bear asked again, “your dessert will be on the house if you eat now!”

satomi had a lot of patience. considering she’s good friends with bokuto and the physical therapist for the black jackals, it’s almost essential to have such a trait. yet by now, her patience was wearing quick.

“we’ll even throw in a free drink!” the taller bear added. their voices sounded awfully familiar.

granted, everything seemed awfully familiar today—from the couple she tried to help back at the coffeeshop and that random girl that accidentally bumped into earlier, but it didn’t matter now. she could not sacrifice years of hard work in medical school while finessing her way up the ladder to even work for a division 1 volleyball team for a stupid mistake.

something within satomi snapped, “i said i’m fine.” she huffed, pushing through the bear’s stuck arms holding promotional flyers. she stomped away, relishing the slight inkling of relief course through her as she finally escaped the pair. however the relief didn’t reign supreme for long once her eyes checked her phone.

shit, satomi thinks. i’m fucking late.

it was then did she push her weight off her right leg, running towards the gymnasium just a few blocks away. she felt like she was about to throw up her heart at any minute thinking of the consequences she would have to face once she entered that damned building. man, did she regret a lot of things by now. she wished to ignore the rising sting of her thighs that grew fatigued by the second, yet she’d rather think about the pain than beat herself up over her regrets.

satomi was well aware that she wouldn’t even be in this predicament if she didn’t say yes to iwaizumi. and yet, there was no way in hell did she regret going out with him. besides, she has a good feeling that their relationship could actually happen. maybe getting him drunk that one time was the best idea she ever had.

why else did he ask her out if he didn’t like her back?

her breath heaved as she pulled herself into a stop. entering the stadium doors, she was greeted by the security guard. she greets him back with a faux smile melting across her face as she reached into her bag for her id. “where the hell?” she muttered, “where’s my wallet?”

“is there a problem?” fujiyoshi, the security guard asked.

an annoyed scoff emitted from the girl. great, she thinks, can this day get any worse?

“sorry, fujiyoshi-san.” satomi says with the timbre of her voice suddenly turning sweet and provoking, “i don’t i have my id on me right now.”

the guard’s usual hard expression didn’t soften in the slightest and it kind of took satomi aback. usually guys would fall her sweet words, but she honestly wasn’t surprised that someone that’s a beefy security guard with muscles bigger than her head wouldn’t fall for that.

“you know i can’t let you in without a form of identification that you work here.” he dictates.

“oh come on, fujiyoshi!” satomi exclaimed desperately, “you see me walk inside every, just let me through!”

“no can do, ms. yahagi. we’ve been having security issues lately and this is just a necessary precaution.” 

satomi rolls her eyes, just put me out of my misery. “but you can't just—” she suddenly pauses as the black jackals and the rest of their sports medicine team make their way into the gymnasium. “bokuto! iwaizumi!” she shouts their names. the volleyball player and the athletic trainer look their way towards the girl a few meters away, held back by a security guard and the safety railing. “can you please tell this guy to let me in?”

by now the entire team was looking at her like a museum exhibit as all of them knew of all the fucked up things that she did. but honestly, if it wasn’t for sakusa and tomas holding back hinata and atsumu, who knew what those two would’ve done—maybe yell at her or just spoil all the fun of her suffering.

there was a level of confusion of satomi’s face when they all just stood there doing nothing. she gets that it’s strange seeing their physical therapist not be let in cause she forgot her id card, but things felt... different and she didn’t know what. did she have something on her face?

iwaizumi looks away, forcing himself not to look at the girl who used him for her own accord. he opted to think about you instead. meanwhile, bokuto continued to stare daggers at her, holding back a smirk as the sound of clicking shoes echoed from one of the hallways.

“hello?” satomi calls out again, “are you going to tell him to let me in?”

“that won’t be necessary,” a deep, guttural voice says, followed by none other than her boss, mr. kono, all suit-clad and his hair gelled back. “let her in,” he tells fujiyoshi.

“thank you!” she rolls her eyes before pushing through to the other side. she approaches the group of volleyball players and her medicine team, but is immediately stopped.

“come with me to my office.”

“what?” satomi asked, brows furrowing together as she walks to her boss instead. “did something happen?”

“i think you know,” mr. kono flickers a look towards iwaizumi before he disappeared into the gym. in an instant, satomi felt her breath hitch at the realization. she opened her mouth to speak. she tried so hard to force the words to come out between her lips but no excuse was good enough for her to get herself out of this one. maybe this day did get worse and she was absolutely speechless. “from personal experience, i always trust the victim.”

fun facts! —

when bo said that “it was time” it meant that they were going to report satomi, which wasn’t the plan at first since iwaizumi didn’t want anyone else to know

hinata, sakusa, atsumu, and tomas only knew of what satomi did, but they didn’t know that she did it to iwaizumi so they were extra mad

the entire msby team and their sports medicine team found out then so now she’s: ✨f-i-r-e-d✨

meanwhile, y/n, yuko, suga, kaori, and semi ended up eating at the bear cafe (they felt bad for akaashi so they order him takeout)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto scenarios #bokuto imagines #bokuto smau #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagines #iwaizumi smau

[alkimara]

I woke up angry & I've been sitting on this since yesterday.

I am really, really, really, really upset with Thomas Sanders new video. I don't like to start discourse on my blog, but this is the one time I have to say I actively do not support him anymore. I'll put a read more, but TL;DR: crossing the line between reality and fiction, when there are people with Systems out there, is kinda fucked.

For other things, like his team fucking up- I said, "maybe that's out of his hands". There was something I read recently about racism in the fandom, and I said, "That's the fandom! That's not him."

But his latest video is where he crossed the line.

Sanders Sides is supposed to be a work of fiction about a man communicating with the different aspects of himself to solve his problems on a day-to-day basis.

For myself, Other Specified Dissociative Disorder without Amnesia, or OSDD-1b, is a very real mental disorder where I actively communicate with my alters in order to get through life. It is not a work of fiction.

At first, Sanders Sides was helpful in this regard. I have an alter who I will not name, but who was an emotional fragment for some time- a fragment of anxiety, depression, negativity. When we found Sanders Sides, it was a good way to relate, to cope, to reconcile with our differences. We became better friends by finding a common interest, and by learning how to act with each other. Of course, this was back when there were regular uploads.

Then, Thomas did something that he probably shouldn't have. He made a tweet about DID, saying that the Sides were not representative of that, and should never be called "separate personalities", but rather "aspects of his personalities" or "sides of his personality". I can't find the real tweet, because I'm a tumblr user not a twitter one, but here's proof it did exist at some point.

[Source]

[ID: A screenshot from the IMDb page for Sanders Sides, saying

Thomas Sanders, after reading some viewers calling the Sanders Sides "personalities", has repeatedly stated that his character is not portrayed as having Dissociative Personality Disorder, formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder, and he says that his Sanders Sides are instead different aspects, or pieces, of his one and only personality. Therefore he insists they must never be called "personalities", only "Sides".

/end ID]

As long as Sanders Sides remained fiction, I was okay with that. It's a story, meant to help people cope with who they are, to actively try to understand each other. Thinking of your anxiety as an angsty teenager or an angry old lady is even a tactic used by therapists sometimes in trying to logic your way out of spirals.

It's his most recent video, where he uses Janus to interact with Thomas' real-life friends, that bothers me. It's his most recent video where he's, essentially, impersonating the appearance of someone who is fronting in the body. He goes as far as to say "I am Janus, and I am interacting with Thomas' friends." I understand that the Sanders Sides fandom is itching for content- but if you want content of the sides playing games, maybe put content of them playing together? Or content that's related to the story? The second that you cross that line, and actively put it out there as media, you're impersonating a System with Alters.

Everything he's done in stand-up in his impersonations have been equally as weird. Someone asks Virgil a question, then Patton, is like Thomas passing around the front for different Alters to answer the questions. When he never had Alters to begin with! He could have just as easily said "I think Patton would do x" and "I think Virgil would do y", rather than having them """answer themselves""".

If Thomas Sanders is secretly a System or something, by all means- share. But in the recent episode, I did not also miss the beginning, where he says "I will remain Janus as long as I can keep in character."

I don't think I can physically rant anymore, since I adored Thomas once, but this was too far. If anyone knows where that original tweet went, I'd love to see it.

#like fuck #alki.txt #im so mad at this point #tss hate #tss salt #im not even going to put this in either the tss tag or the did tag let's just see if this finds its way out there

[umbillicalnoose]

i think that you would think im pretty and would like my poetry and i want to share it with you. im shy.

to be honest, im very apathetic these days. im not the nice “cutesy baby flower petal boy” i used to be. a lot has happened & im bitter & sullen & all in all, a pretty shitty friend/person to know. i used to possess some redeeming qualities, believe it or not, even if they were construed by the subconscious in an attempt to be likeable - a facade, even tho its only a facade, is still tangible, still there, is still something, even if not authentic. is poorer character forgivable in the name of presenting more authentically? but nah. that makes it sound like im putting effort into being a better person, which im not. im just sort of fried & done. its been a very long time since i played the role i built for myself on here of the “small fawn boy who wants to help girls” lmaooo. how embarrassing. altho, i was just a kid, & i guess, if you had a tumblr as a teenager, you went thru some cringe (i know the use of that word has fallen in on itself & adopted its own definition but for lack of a better one) ass phases, whether it was kinning or malingering mental illness or oh fucking christ, all that gender bullshit, etc etc. from what ive observed, tho, loosely following kids im still casually friends with that i met on here, i think we’ve all managed to Grow The Fuck Up, at least a little. most of us have jobs or r in school or have partners - growing up & moving on is a very surreal experience to watch/go thru. im moving at my own pace & ive accepted that - im still currently using & starving myself & concocting a suicide plan every day but at least i use clean needles as much as possible, i actively & honestly do strive for the bare minimum calorically, & um able to work with the mentality of “well ill have this when i need it but todays not that day” a lot more readily, in relation to suicide shit. ive finally found a therapist who Really Gets It, is a frontrunner internationally on ritual & extreme abuse & mind control. its pretty incredible what a few years with a good therapist can do. anyways. im sorry, i know you didnt ask for all this & im not even sure why i divulged. i guess, what tipped me off, was your attempt at sounsing “cute” - dude, cut that shit out, i promise youll be a lot better off. & i know everyone interchanges aspects of their personality based on who theyre talking to/who they percieve themselves to be talking to, but i feel like not a lot of people give enough credence to the internet & its hand in shaping/molding young people, kids, vulnerable dumbasses, especially tumblr (tho, i get that its a relatively new phenomenon) - u get a bunch of the “weird”, “alternative”, ““ostracized” kids together on a website, of course its gonna nurture a culture of hypervalidatoon & pretending to be sick in order to fit in to the point that its not an act anymore & exacerbation of symptoms & basically, just sucking each others dicks, sitting in ur own shit, & never ending coddling. & then, you have the older group of kids, who have played this game before but instead of helping or ignoring the Dumbshit kids, they indulge their own normally-buried-but-unleashed-by-internet-anonymity sadism/human instinct to just be fucking dicks & so now you have this vicious cycle of anger & hatred & fucking melodrama up the urethra. im sorry, i know im comig off as/am being harsh but god fuckin dammit yknow? also, this isnt directed at you, specifically, more of a generalized thing, @ myself included. so uh. i mean, if u still wanna share it with me after reading all this, id be happy to read ur poetry. i used to be over the top nice & then reverted to Major Asshole & am now trying to find that sweet middle spot - honoring & allowing myself to share my pain without putting it on others. which is really hard!! cuz becoming a Dick was difficult in that it forced me to be more honest with my true self & as such, more vulnerable - now in trying to become Kinda Nice again because despite being a pulsating scrotom, ive had the intense desire for friendship & human interaction, while simultaneously doing things that i was consciously aware was pushing others away - but then, if i pretend to be nice, where does that authenticity i worked for & was so scared of go? & i dont mean telling someone their new haircut looks nice even when it doesnt - thats just not being a dick. but i guess, those r the normal trials & tribulations of any relationship & adolescent developing identity. which is weird too - dealing with “normal” issues, i mean. whats the point if your life/limbs/breaking point arent at risk? whats the point when your best friends already dead. im sick of people calling "survivors” (despise that word, so fucking female-originated & overdramatic) “brave” & “strong” - surviving is not brave or strong. its just survival. you wouldnt call an animal brave for running for its life from a predator but you would call a dog courageous for going into a burning building to save its owner. premeditated action on the notion that you are probably going to be hurt is brave. being subjected to pain with no choice is not. theres no “silver lining” or anything “good” to be drawn from it either - sure it may have made x a more compassionate person or made y more introspective & gentle but you know what would have been even fucking better??? if the shit hadnt happened in the first place! let x be an asshole & y be self absorbed - the “benefits”, so to speak, do not outweigh the cost, not by a long fucking shot. its not only patronizing to hear garbage like that, but a slap in the face to know that anyone could possibly see anything good coming from that nightmare & that the characteristics, good or bad, you developed either in response to or as a result of, are worth praise. dont tell me im strong for doing what i had to to escape a torture chamber - tell me im perseverant for studying my ass off & passing that test last week. in the words of one of my dearest & most fucking brilliant friends, “pain doesnt owe me/you purpose - the need to intellectualize & assign meaning to pain & death is not only futile, but harmful.” & honestly, i think that it stems from weakness (in most cases - i realize theres a plethora of other reasons such as those who r just desperate for something to hold on to or r hyperintellectual & analytical or who have been pressured by external “support” systems to find the “good” etc etc) - while the majority of people view the person who “can find the good in everything” (strictly speaking only in relation to trauma/tragedy here & more in denunciation of those that celebrate this trait as opposed to vilifying “survivors” who respond this way, though in my experience, its very very very rarely the “survivor” that perpetrates this ideology ) as strong, i sort of see it as a weakness - their inability to sit with & absorb their own pain or that of others is so strong that not only do they have to frantically pull rainbows out of the teeth of a meat cleaver, they also have to exist within this strange (tho, not malicious - more subconscious) superiority complex. like, nah, dude, some times shit is just awful. you cant tell me anything fucking good came out of a four year old girl being kidnapped, gangraped, & tortured for two years, before being impaled & left to die on a stake. her mom opened a non profit organization? oh well thank fucking god for that!!! those that believe the latter to be more “enlightened” or whatever the fuck r the same people who say shit like “dying is easy - living is harder” & i get that that its supposed to be interpreted metaphorically for the most part - giving up is easy, trying isnt (which also.....isnt true??? admitting defeat & fully accepting the fact that ur fucking helpless is beyond hard lmao???) - but pretend youre somewhere, anywhere outside ur sunny little fucking yoga studio full of white women whos biggest issues r the pta & johnny whos failing math, & lets say your life is in real, imminent danger, a gun is to your head & i want you to not scream or cry or beg for ur life since dying is “easier”. if dying is so easy, why do the majority of ppl cling to it with such desperation - why is suicide illegal? why do some ppl go thru 100s of chemo treatments even tho the doctors say theyre just prolonging the inevitable, ppl who cut off a diseased arm so it wont spread, those who walk dozens of miles every day for food & water, etc? & i know & understand the survival instinct better than anyone, even when i wanted to die more than anything, my natural instincts would kick in with no conscious neural input & id do what i had to do. im not condemning those who cling to life (ok - a little. ur wasting resources out of ur own fear. but i also realize thats just me being a Fucking Asshole As Always cuz technically, im doing the same thing tho its more due to lack of opportunity rather than fear. i just think, societally, death should be more normalized, discussed, & not made out to be so unknown & scary), instead just reprimanding those who say shit like that (inspirational facebook quotes). especially cuz most of the ppl who do spew that shit have never gone thru anything even remotely difficult - their worst nightmare is a Big Scary Black Man grabbing them on the street, mugging them, & touching their tits. & i also know that these stupid ass sayings are to be applied to bullshit like exercise & fitness (“no pain no gain” is another one of my Favorites) & not fucking torture or even just ur run of the mill rape, even that would probably smash the rose tinted banana republic shades off their beverly hills tanned faces. but ive heard the no pain no gain one a handful of times in the last few weeks, specifically from doctors performing procedures in preparation for my bottom surgery. & i know its supposed to be encouraging & they have no way of knowing, but its just like, buddy, u have no idea who youre fucking talking to. & im starting to understand what THEY mean when they say it - pain with a reward is infinitely more tolerable than pain just for the sake of pain; like, a tattoo, it hurts, but u know, when its done, its gonna be sick as fuck. when u r able to fall back on the idea that its for something u rlly want, its A Lot easier to handle as opposed to pain thats Just Pain - theres no reward for it except, i guess, that the more u experience it, the closer u r to the end of it lmao. i mean, i still hate when ppl say it cuz for most of my life, pain was just pain, & the “reward” was the opportunity to go home at the end & so whenever ppl say that, my mind just immediately resorts back to that & im just like haha fuck u. but im trying to remember my experiences r definitely not universal & im starting to sorta understand what they mean i think. but, flipping gears here, & going back to the sentiment of “everything happens for a reason”, the base philosophy of psuedo deep Fuckwads - a girls dad didnt fuck her “for a reason”, everything doesnt happen “for a reason”. like ok, hypothetically, the kid he impregnated her with & that she was forced to have at 12 may surpass all odds & not become a homeless junkie & instead become a world renowned doctor who finds the cure for cancer. but she wasnt raped repeatedly from the age of six for that “reason”, no matter what anyone says & honestly, the liberation of the masses does not justify the suffering of one, especially a child. in my eyes at least. but again, im a bitter asshole. sorry i just Went The Fuck Off here oh my god.....if u read all this, thanks, pal. if not, thats cool too. but yea, send me ur stuff, id totally be down to read it. as for me potentially thinking ur cute, i have to look at my disgusting shitstain of a “face” every goddamn day so everyone else to me is fuckin aphrodite. but im also tryin to not put so much worth into physical appearance- its not something that should be complimented cuz its just smth a person was born with which is the same reason it shouldnt be insulted. this is gonna sound gay & stupid but i personally find that a persons essence & personality really permeates. you can meet someone who, objectively, isnt all that great looking, but once u get to know them, u really see their beauty - how the sun catches in their hair, their dilated pupils looking up at u from under long eyelashes in the dark, the birthmark on their right shoulder that they despise but that is so Them, the gap in their teeth, etc. & idk how to phrase this without it sounding like “well ur ugly but at least ur a good person”, cuz that only reiterates the societally indoctrinated emphasis on appearance & my kneejerk reaction to assure the person in question that thats not what im saying is only another result of that!!! its inescapable!!! but no, really, its not just a matter of “its on the inside that counts” - physically, they change or maybe, actually this is more likely, when i first meet them, my “default” eyes r just looking for features that i know im immediately attracted to (tall, blonde, sickly as in sunken eyes sticklike pale but still looks like she could & will beat the shit out of me) but as i fall in love or get to know them better, my eyes adjust & i notice & adore the beauty that was there all along. so uh. idk if ill think ur “cute”. but probably, yes, ill think ur an angel.

[your-not-invisible-to-me]

Piece By Piece- (Rob Benedict x Reader) PART 4

Chapter 3

A/N: It’s 5:28 AM. I am not responsible for any grammar or continuity errors. Also, part 5 will be the last part. Enjoy! 

Summary: Reader is a teenage actress on Supernatural, and at 15 years old her abusive parents kick her out of the house because they disapprove of her career. After an emotional breakdown at the latest convention, Rob takes her in.

Pairing: Father Figure Rob x Reader

Word Count: 2,873

WARNING: There actually isn’t any warnings in this chapter the story should be happy from now on.

LISTEN TO THIS SONG FIRST: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwTMz6Nfhjg

Life changed rather quickly after that day, and let me just tell you it changed for the better.

It was barely two weeks later when it became legally official, and the rest of the Supernatural cast found out. It was time for another con.

Rob walked down the hallway backstage toward the green room with Rich. It was Saturday evening, and Jared and Jensen had just arrived at the hotel just in time for the Saturday Night Special. Everyone was in the green room besides Rob and Rich, as they had just finished last minute photo opps.

“Hey, Rob, wanna meet up for beers Sunday night? Our flight gets into LA early so we’d have plenty of time to get a drink.” said Rich.

Rob sighed, weary of giving his best friend an answer. He and Y/N hadn’t told anyone of their new living situation yet. Rob because he wanted to wait until it was official, and, well, Y/N because she was afraid telling people would jinx the chance of it actually becoming true.

And besides, Rob knew he couldn’t go out drinking on a Sunday night, Y/N needed a ride to school at 7:00 AM the next morning.

Before Rob could answer, his phone rang in his pocket, stopping R2 in their tracks. He pulled his phone out, happy to see the name of his lawyer appear for the caller ID.

“Um, head inside, this will just take a second.” Rich looked at his best friend, a bit confused before just walking through the door.

“Hello?” asked Rob.

“Hey Rob, it’s (lawyer’s name).”

“Oh hey, please tell me you’re calling with good news.” him and Y/N were expecting the official call any day now.

“Actually, Rob, I have good news indeed. I just got the paper work from Y/N’s biological parents. They signed each form, waiving their legal rights to the guardianship of Y/N Y/L/N. Congrats, you just gained the responsibility of a 15-year-old.” said Rob’s lawyer with a laugh.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” said Rob, hanging up and giving himself the authority to do a fist pump. After the social worker had visited the two of them the past Monday, he was glad this was all over. Y/N finally had a safe home.

Walking into the green room, all eyes turned to him as it was quite obvious Rob was in a better mood than he had been in all day.

“What’s put a pep in your step there, Mr. Benedict?” asked Briana. Briana, Kim, Rich, Jason, Jensen, Jared, Matt, Mark, Ruth, Billy, Stephen, and Mike all sat, looking at Rob with questioning eyes.

“Oh, nothing that you won’t find out in the next five minutes. Where’s Y/N?” asked Rob.

“Here I am.” said Y/N, walking out of the bathroom.

In the month that Y/N had been staying with Rob, it was like she had become a completely different person, her personality flipping a switch. She was more outgoing, and less afraid to strike up a conversation with someone.

Teachers noticed at school, enjoying the fact that the girl now walked into class with a smile on her face. The few friends she had were surprised, but didn’t dare question why their friend was a lot happier than she used to be.

She even was more outgoing backstage at the convention, a lot more present and into everything that happened at the hotel. It was no longer having to do her job worried about what would happen when she left that Sunday.

In the almost two days of the current con, she was confident enough to be able to call the rest of the cast her friends, no longer just sticking to Rob’s side.

The cast was just happy to know the kid was okay, details didn’t matter.

————————————————————————————————————-

“What’s up, Rob?” I asked, closing the bathroom door behind me. I could tell by just looking at the man that something good had happened.

I looked at the others, they all shrugged not knowing the answer to give.

“Well, Y/N, I just got off the phone with my lawyer.” My heart immediately started pounding, all the negative outcomes pouring through my head.

The judge didn’t approve the petition, my parents didn’t waive their guardian rights, hell knowing them they didn’t even turn in the forms at all. The options were endless.

“Rob-.” Rob held his hand up, stopping me before I could even continue. He knew what I was thinking. Rob reached into his pocket, pulling out what seemed to be a lanyard…with a small key attached to the bottom.

“I am now officially your legal guardian.” said Rob, the smile having yet to leave his face.  My jaw dropped.

“They actually signed the waiver forms?”

“They actually signed the waiver forms. You never have to see them ever again. Heck, according to my lawyer, they even dropped a box of your clothes and belongings to her office.” I quickly engulfed Rob into a tight hug. A soft ‘umph’ could be heard as he didn’t expect it.

“What the heck just happened?” asked Rich.

Rob and I laughed turning to our friends, knowing now that we had no choice but to tell them everything. And we did exactly that. Few were surprised to hear that Rob had been right those weeks ago when he had first stated his fear; wondering why I hadn’t said anything before. Some joked, telling Rob he didn’t know what he was in store for when it came to raising a girl, Jensen, Briana, and Kim joking the most as they were the ones with daughters.

But all in all, they were supportive, the group of us sharing a toast with the drinks we had before Rob, Mike, Billy, and Stephen were called on stage.

————————————————————————————————————-

The first few months were hard, as the nightmares that had started still persisted through the night no matter where I was living. But each night, Rob was there, bolting through my bedroom door in a near instant as soon as he heard the first sound of screams.

“Shhh, Y/N it’s okay. Kiddo, it’s me. You’re safe. They’re not here, I promise. You’re just having a bad dream.”

Rob repeated the words to you each night the dreams went on, waiting until you had calmed and even staying until you had fallen back asleep. They could happen multiple times a night, sometimes to the point where Rob would let you stay home from school because he knew you wouldn’t have been able to last.

But not once did he complain.

It wasn’t until about three months later when Rob had fallen asleep in a Louden Swain rehearsal for the second time that Billy confronted him.

“Rob, what the heck is going on?” asked Billy. Stephen and Mike had already left the music studio for the day.

“Sorry man, just haven’t had the best opportunities to sleep lately.” said Rob, not meaning to yawn in the middle of that sentence, but it happened anyway.

“Dude, it’s just you and Y/N at home, what could possibly be keeping you up so much?”

Rob sighed, giving in to his friend and telling him about your nightmares, not getting into details by any means, but he was worried, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do at this point.

“I don’t know man. I’m just worried I don’t have the tools to help her with this. It’s not like you have control on your subconscious.”  

“Have you suggested taking her to therapy?” asked Billy.

“What?” He had to admit, he hadn’t thought that far.

“Well, think about it Rob. She’s been through hell and back with her parents, that much has been obvious. Who knows what the heck they could have done to her, who knows everything she’s been through. Maybe talking to a professional wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” said Billy.

Rob sighed, thanking his friend, knowing that he was more than probably right.

You were extremely hesitant at first when Rob brought the option up to you at dinner, you didn’t want Rob to have to pay for another thing for you, especially something that you didn’t necessarily think was needed.

“Y/N, you know I’m here for you, whenever you decide you’re ready to talk to me about what happened to you, or what the dreams are even about. I just think that for the meantime, talking to a professional defiantly won’t hurt. You haven’t slept yourself in weeks.

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

But it wasn’t until you got Rob to agree to let you pay for at least half of the cost before you agreed to go.

And frankly, it worked.

Rob had found a therapist that was local, and agreed to work around both you and Rob’s acting schedule, and your school schedule as well.

(Wayward Sisters had recently been announced, and you were in talks with producers to be a key character.)

After the second session, the therapist had given you a very mild sedative to help you sleep at night, and it worked like a charm. The nightmares disappeared almost instantly. After the fifth, you weren’t afraid to tell Rob about the things that had happened to you, the beatings you had taken, or even that time you had went weeks where the only food you had was what was served to you at school.

You even had the nerve to tell him about the scars left on you that hadn’t come from anyone else but you.

But Rob sat and listened, not daring to say a word until you were completely finished. He didn’t judge, he didn’t question.

“Promise me that if you ever feel like doing that to yourself ever again, Y/N, that you’ll come to me, or Rich, or Billy, or any one of us.”

“Yeah, I promise Rob.”

Giving you a hug and making you a promise that everything was gonna be okay, the two of you headed off to bed. As you laid in bed, Rob’s words kept replaying in your mind.

“Everything is gonna be okay.”

Frankly, you believed him.

————————————————————————————————————-

Sometimes it was the little things Rob did for you that meant the most, and he didn’t even realize he was doing them.

He had taken you to get your drivers permit the second you had gotten the courage to ask, and even had given you a few drivers lessons whenever the two of you each had free time.

Your acting career was taking off gradually, guest spots on shows here and there, while still going to school full time. Rob had gotten the same amount of acting jobs he usually did, his work schedule never really changing. He took you with him if the job lasted for more than a week, but trusted you enough to stay home by yourself if it was less. It especially helped when Kim offered to give you a ride to school when Rob was out of town, considering she was up and about anyway with her own kids, and Rob’s apartment was right on the way to her own kid’s school. Rob left more than enough money for food and any supplies of course.

However, you had just officially signed on for Wayward Sisters, which was supposed to start filming the summer after your current school year had ended. This meant you would be flying up to Vancouver more frequently, and while you and Rob hadn’t worked the details out, you both knew how busy life was about to get.  

It had reached May, though, which meant it was the end of your sophomore year of high school, and time for the parent-teacher evaluation conferences that they held at the end of each year. Your parents had never shown up to one before, and to be honest, you were a little weary about asking Rob to attend.

“C’mon, Y/N, just ask him. You know how less painful the conference will go when you don’t have to explain to Mr. McAdams that your parents are working, and that you swear you’ll get the information to them later. It really isn’t that big of a deal.” said Hayden, your best friend, Mr. McAdams being the head teacher of the 10th grade class. The two of you sat at the kitchen table of you and Rob’s apartment that morning, having spent the past night working on a science project that hadn’t been completed due to the fact that you had just spent the past week and a half in Vancouver filming a Supernatural episode. Her mom had offered to give the two of you a ride to school that morning and right now you were just waiting.

“Hayden, it’s just a conference. I’ve been lying to every head teacher we’ve had since these conferences started in sixth grade. Three more won’t hurt.”

“Three more of what won’t hurt?” asked Rob, appearing suddenly from the door way, carrying his guitar case as he had a rehearsal with Louden Swain today.

“Nothing, just thinking about how three more days of school won’t kill us too bad.” you said, surprised about how fast that had come out of your mouth. Luckily Hayden came to your rescue.

“Hey, Y/N, my mom’s out front.” said Hayden, standing up and grabbing her bag off the counter.

“Um, I’ll be back around 7:00 tonight.” you said. You may not have asked Rob to come to the conference, but you were still required to. You rushed out the door behind your friend before Rob even had the chance to respond, but not before a paper slipped out of your backpack as it hit the table.

Rob picked it up, surprised as he read what was on it.

REQUIRED PARENT TEACHER CONFERENCE

Student and Parent must be present to speak with Mr. McAdams about your child’s performance throughout this past school year.

4:30-7:00 PM

Y/N Y/L/N: 6:30PM.

You can bet your ass Rob showed up that night, leaving the Louden Swain rehearsal early with no explanation to the guys even.

Heck he was even more surprised to learn that in the near year you had been staying with him, your grades had improved dramatically.

“I don’t know what you’ve been doing, Mr. Benedict, but even with all the traveling Y/N has done in the past year, her GPA went from a 2.7 to 3.5. The highest jump she’s ever had.

Y/N didn’t know it, but as Rob looked at you from the chair sitting next to yours, he held so much pride that he didn’t look at you like the kid he had decided to take in.

He looked at you as his daughter.

————————————————————————————————————-

It wasn’t until the end of the next school year that the fans found out that Rob was your legal guardian, since the two of you had kept it severely secret for legal reasons; especially since the both of you had no idea where your biological parents were.

But your junior year had ended, and even with flying out of the country nearly every week for a TV show, taking most of your classes on a set or in your trailer by a tutor, you had made the honor roll for the first time, even made the dean’s list.

(And if you waited a few more weeks, the two of you would find out you had gotten a better than average score on both the SAT and ACT).

But Honors night had come around, and Rob, Rich, Kim, and Billy sat in attendance as the names were being called for students to get their certificates. 

(You had gotten really close to the other three over the past two years, considering you and Rob’s work schedule, and the amount of times you stayed over at Billy’s house when Louden Swain rehearsals would run late.)

“Y/N Y/L/N.” said the dean, the four adults jumped up, cheering so loud that you couldn’t help but smile as you got on stage and accepted the certificate.

“I’m so proud of you!” said Rob. The four stood outside the auditorium, Rob immediately wrapping you in a hug the second you walked out.

“Thanks Rob.” you said, nearly emotional. Freshman year teachers were offering to put you in help classes, and you couldn’t believe yourself that you had made it to the dean list at all.

“Okay, okay. I gotta get a picture of the two of you.” said Kim, having already taken a pic of you and Rob when he had hugged you.

You and Rob laughed, not really caring at this point where the picture ended up. The twitter notification came up on your phone just a few moments later.

@kimrhodes4real:

Couldn’t be prouder of @Y/T/N. Just had to get the two of them together. *Image attached*

Fans were obviously confused on why Rob had been pointed out, but it wasn’t until Rob posted a picture later that night that it was officially let out in the world.

@RobBenedict:

When your kid makes the honor and dean’s list after workin her ass off all year, you take her out to any restaurant she wants :D @Y/T/N

*Image attached*

Rob didn’t know it, but you nearly called him Dad that night.

STORY TAGS: @thebookisbtr @emilywells19 @littleshone @a-banana-for-your-thoughts @pancake-pages @stationary-queen @bryannekenzie @alicat-life @winchestergirl-13 @melodyhiddleston @flamequeen12

ROB TAGS: @nerdyforyourbooks @madame-marilyn @tas898 @internationalmusicteacher @lizzy077 @natasha-cole 

FOREVER TAGS: @laffytaffyhumor @hudine @fandom–0verdose @madame-marilyn @casgrl @nerdyforyourbooks @waywardswain @goldenolaf25 @88dragon06 @dont-hate-relate-pls @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll @i-dont-understand-that-url @b-northington @idk-fandom @bea789 @nanie5 @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @captain-amelia-bradley @a-michellerae-things

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #chuck Shirley #god #original female character #supernatural fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #Rob Benedict #Rob Benedict x Reader #Rob Benedict fan fiction #Rob Benedict fanfiction #Rob Benedict Fanfic #supernatural one shot #one shot #oneshot #supernatural one shots #Louden Swain

[themoneybuff-blog]

The death of Anthony Bourdain: Thoughts on productivity, pleasure, and depression

Shares 141 Warning: This is a rare GRS post that contains salty language. If you dont like salty language, dont read this article. Anthony Bourdain killed himself Friday morning. So what? you might be thinking. Hes just another fucking celebrity who didnt know how good he had it. Maybe youre right. But his death has weighed heavy on me all weekend. On Friday morning, as I wrote the weekly Get Rich Slowly email, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. On Friday afternoon, as Kim and I worked in the yard, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. On Friday evening, as we soaked in our new hot tub with a friend, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. Yesterday, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. Today, I thought about Anthony Bourdain. Now Im writing this article as an act of catharsis. Maybe itll help me to stop thinking about Anthony Bourdain. The Depression Trap I believe Anthony Bourdains death touched me deeply for a couple of reasons. I was a huge fan. Since listening him read the audio version of Kitchen Confidential a decade ago, Ive loved his work. Parts Unknown was probably my favorite travel show: raw and real and filled with food. Bourdain connected with everyone he met. His joy for life was contagious and his mind was sharp.Like Bourdain did, I struggle with depression. All my life, Ive experienced periodic descents into darkness. The first time this happened, I missed five weeks of sixth grade. In the nearly forty years since then, Ive developed a variety of coping mechanisms but they dont always work. In recent months since the middle of March the darkness has deepened and I dont know why. (And just as I missed five weeks of school back then, Ive been unable to get my work done in the present.) Let me make it clear that I am not suicidal. Right now, the biggest symptom of my depression is my inability to get shit done. But whereas suicide seems strange and senseless to most everyone else, depressives understand the appeal even if wed never consider it personally. One of the many stupid things about depression is that the condition doesnt care how awesome your life is. It doesnt care how successful you are. It doesnt care how much money you have. Depression is not rational. If it were, itd be easy to think your way out of it. Paula Froelich, one of Bourdains ex-girlfriends, put it like this:

Bourdains death didnt just make me introspective. It also led to a couple of interesting conversations about pleasure and productivity and about what really matters in life. The Productivity Trap Friday afternoon, I received email from a GRS reader well call Michael: Im sure you saw Anthony Bourdain killed himself. This to me was a telling quote: When asked during a recent interview with The Wall Street Journal whether he ever thought about stepping back from the breakneck pace of a job that kept him on the road 250 days a year, he replied, Too late for that. I think about it. I aspired to it. I feel guilty about it. I yearn for it. Balance? I fucking wish.' Obviously I didnt know Bourdain personally, or even know much about him as a public figure, but I think that mentality is common: Once youve become successful, the thought of ever ratcheting back seems unthinkable. Obviously, suicide is rare, but I think this mentality is common among successful people they stay in an unhappy status quo simply because they have so much invested in their self-image and public perception of themselves as successful people. I think Michael is onto something. Ive seen this in my own life, in the lives of friends and family, and the lives of colleagues. They fall into what you might call the productivity trap. (Heres an article I almost linked to the other day about the productivity trap: If youre so successful, why are you still working 70 hours a week?) I have one friend, for instance, with an enormously successful career. He has a popular blog, a popular podcast, best-selling books, and even an annual conference that attracts attendees from across the planet. Yet hes never satisfied not with himself nor with anybody else. Hes always looking for ways to make things bigger and better. He seems unhappy with who he is and what he has. Hes written publicly about his struggles with mental illness, but he hasnt revealed its full effects. Its not just my friend. Its me too. I see this pattern in my own life, and its something Ive deliberately decided to approach more mindfully. Why do I want to have a hot tub or travel to Ecuador? Why did I repurchase Get Rich Slowly and how often should I publish here? Why do I keep agreeing to public speaking gigs? Do I really want these things? Are they aligned with my personal mission statement? Will they really make me happy? (Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes the answer is no.) In his email, Michael continued: I think this is really the key to personal finance and early retirement actually stepping back and figure out what is important to you, and doing it, even if it seems like youre turning your back on a great career, or a nice house or whatever. That is the hardest part, which keeps most people in a life they dont want. They think I went to school X or work at company Y, so therefore I must live in this city or have that job or have that wardrobe and never ask themselves what, as individuals, makes them happy. The Pleasure Trap As our email conversation continued, Michael brought up another interesting point. He noted that our culture and this is especially true in the world of financial independence blogs is obsessed with experiences, such as travel. Yet in many ways, collecting experiences is no better (nor any different) than collecting things. Heres Michael again: [Bourdain] had the ne plus ultra of modern life: rich, famous, a job that 99% of the population would kill for, saw everything he wanted to see, ate everything he wanted to eat, Im sure slept with tons of women if that is what he wanted, took all the drugs he wanted. You name it, he had it. And, he hung himself in a hotel room in France, a twice-divorced man a continent away from his daughter and girlfriend. Im not bagging on him. I just think he illustrates something: A meaningful life doesnt consist of a series of cool experiences, or traveling or eating cool stuff. Bourdain did that stuff to an incredible degree, and it still didnt make him happy. I think that is what our society has forgotten. I feel like were always being told we should move a lot, travel a lot, be vaguely or overtly dismissive of the town or state we were born in, move for college and never move back homein short, basically be a free agent with fewer and fewer personal connections, or weaker connections. And, we get this [higher suicide rates]. [] I think this relates to personal finance. There is always this thought that thrift requires these huge sacrifices less travel, fewer new experiences, fewer new restaurants. But what if [these arent sacrifices]? What if irrespective of cost, that stuff isnt really a source of happiness? I mean, people accept that with respect to possessions nobody says a Cadillac or a 5000-square-foot home is the key to happiness but many, many people in our culture think new experiences are crucial to a happy life. It may be the opposite the continuity and free-time to invest in loving relationships may actually be the key to happiness. I told Kim about my conversation with Michael. Its the pleasure trap, she said. People fall for the lie that momentary pleasure equals happiness. But pleasure isnt the same as happiness. Shes right, of course. Happiness is like planting a garden, watching it grow, then enjoying the harvest. Pleasure is simply eating the fruit. Happiness is deeper and richer and longer lasting. Pleasure is fleeting; happiness is not. But happiness involves time and work and patience. Now, Ill admit: Im guilty as anyone else of falling into the pleasure trap, and in oh-so-many ways! I have to make a deliberate effort to look past immediate pleasure in order to consider long-term happiness. This often requires enduring unpleasant activities. Do I really want to go out in the cold and the rain to dig in the mud and plant my garden? No, not in this moment. Id rather sit in the hot tub. But if I dont plant the garden, Im sacrificing greater happiness in the future. Final Thoughts While I think that Kim and Michael are onto something the productivity trap and the pleasure trap are both real and both problematic I keep coming back to Anthony Bourdains battle with depression. During my recent road trip through the southeastern U.S., I talked with two friends who are fighting depression in their own lives. One friend has a spouse who cannot shake the condition despite counseling, despite exercise, despite a loving family. The other friend fights the condition himself and its led to weight gain and addictive tendencies. Therapy has helped some but its not a cure-all. As for myself, I havent yet returned to therapy although Im considering it. (Not so long ago, I spent a year working with a therapist to find ways to cope with anxiety and depression. It helped.) I want to stress again that I am not suicidal. But the depression has most definitely affected my daily existence, including my relationships, my health, and my work here at Get Rich Slowly. It sucks. It sucks. It sucks. But I know that itll get better someday. Shares 141 https://www.getrichslowly.org/death-of-anthony-bourdain/