#was looking into possible other careers again today because I've been forced to think about work again

[vettelsvee]

INFINITY, a Sebastian Vettel fanfiction. 00. LOVE YOU GOODBYE

INFINITY MASTERLIST HERE!

warnings: seb and diana being MY favourite fanfic couple i've ever written, bad language, english not being my first language, break up. also, i wanna make a taglist so if you wanna be included just tell me in the comments so you won't miss future parts!

I dragged myself away from the cistern and composed myself, taking care not to get dizzy. I grabbed a piece of paper and wiped the corners of my lips to remove any possible remnants of vomit.

I headed to the bathroom almost automatically, and it didn't take me long to grab the toothbrush that I had gotten used to carrying since nausea had become part of my daily life. I tried to get rid of the acidity that had formed in my throat and the bad taste in my mouth, but as I already expected, and knowing that I had experienced it more times than I would have liked in the last month and a half, it was impossible for me.

"Diana, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped me out of my trance. I jumped, and I forced myself to respond even though it was the last thing I wanted:

"Yes, I'm coming!"

"Don't take too long," the woman replied. "Not because I don't want you to, but because Seb is worried about you."

Panic-stricken, I stifled the laughter that almost escaped me.

If only he knew what I was about to do...

"Don't worry, I'll be out soon," I replied.

I stared at myself in the mirror, contemplating my own reflection for longer than I would have liked. Minutes passed, and I lost track of them almost completely because I was aware that I had to put an end once and for all to that intrusive thought telling me that what I was about to do was wrong but inevitably the best.

I was going to break everything I had wanted since I was a child simply because things hadn't gone "well." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, continually surpassing himself in every race, making history while I, on the other hand, was still stuck in our hometown working in a dive bar, enduring drunks and brats who wanted to play at being adults because I hadn't been lucky, or maybe financially able, to study what I had yearned for since childhood.

I leaned on the sink, feeling the cold begin to penetrate my body. I felt a great tremor coursing through me, and it became increasingly difficult to stand. Tears filled my eyes as I faced the reality of what I was about to do, of the decision I had made.

If since my boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but also making a name for himself in them, and thought I didn't deserve him because I was going in the opposite direction, now that I had become pregnant by him after the birth control pills I was taking had probably failed in who knows what way, I thought it even more.

Despite the love I still felt, and would probably always feel for Sebastian, since I took the pregnancy test with Hanna in one of the most remote shopping centers in Heppenheim, I knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was not part of my plans.

"Come on, Diana..." I said to myself, still looking at my reflection. "This is for Seb. This is for him and for his career."

I took a few deep breaths, feeling as if the lump in my throat was choking me. I looked at that blonde, German girl, full of insecurities once again. Her eyes reflected doubts and, above all, fear, and unfortunately, I sensed that it would continue to be so from today on, for life.

Controlling the tremor in my left hand, I slowly opened the bathroom door, as if I wanted to torture myself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until I closed the door a little harder than I intended.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving me an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don't you think you should see a doctor?"

The knot in my throat seemed to tighten a little more. See a doctor... Of course, I had seen a doctor! Four weeks and, today, four days of gestation was the answer, but nobody, beyond my parents and my best friend, could know.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied quickly, trying to pretend as best as I could. "Don't worry. It's probably just a little stress," I added, praying that she believed me. "I haven't had time to go to the doctor, but I assure you, for heaven's sake, everything is fine."

And that's exactly why you're going to leave the love of your life today.

Roeske seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment, as if she wanted to say something to me; not to mention her gaze: it gave me the feeling that she was far from convinced of what I was telling her.

"Whatever you say, Diana," she finally said, getting up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything else, I'm here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as smooth as silk, we'd better hurry," my still-boyfriend's public relations said to me again. "The final practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried about why we haven't returned yet."

I prepared to leave the room with her. I was more than determined to accompany her, but it was when we were almost out the door that I realized it was now or never.

I came to a sudden halt before we started descending from the driver's room to the garage, watching as the blonde hurried down the stairs, possibly knowing that we were running too late even though there were still about forty-five minutes left before the session began.

"Wait, Britta. Just a moment!"

I was convinced that my shout from the top of the stairs had been heard by more people than I would have liked. I prayed to become invisible as I saw some glances directed at me, including Roeske's, which made it difficult for me to articulate a word; not to mention the whirlwind of emotions I felt inside.

I had to calm down and act a little better, or else everything I had been pondering for longer than I would have liked would go down the drain.

"I'd like to talk to Seb... alone," I finally said.

"Diana Wagner," she said my name, now much more serious. "I know you've told me everything's fine, but... are you sure it really is? Is there really nothing wrong with you?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, there's more going on than I'd like.

I knew I could trust Britta completely. I was sure that if I revealed the news to her before Vettel, she wouldn't say anything, at least not for the time being. I wanted to tell her; in fact, I would love to tell her because the woman was a second mother to me, but I knew I couldn't because, as soon as I left, there was the remote possibility that she would end up telling the blonde everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm great. It's nothing serious, don't worry," I replied with a sigh, trying not only to reassure the PR but also myself. "I just need to talk to him about... well, an unimportant matter."

"Of course. Go get him, I'll wait here. He's probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He won't have gone far, especially considering how clear he made it that he was really looking forward to seeing you."

"Can you go get him?" I blurted out as if it were nothing.

I ignored what she had just said because now the nerves were gnawing at me. Britta also seemed to notice my anxiety, so I was grateful that she ignored it and acted as if nothing had happened.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw her nod, and I couldn't help but thank her for what she had just done for me.

"Lie down on the physio's table and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she urged me. Reluctantly, and after being told a couple more times, I ended up obeying. "Seb won't be long in coming. You know that when it comes to you, he's capable of dropping anything."

And it was true. Once the woman left, I remained lying down, tracing small drawings with my index finger on my stomach and, as I whispered to what would supposedly be my child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded my mind.

A small pressure settled in my chest when I became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was getting closer to becoming a reality. I didn't want to face it, and I largely refused to, but I knew that, for the sake of both of us, and especially his, it was the best.

Hiding the truth from the boy I had been loving for longer than I would like to admit was precisely the opposite of what I should do, but precisely because he was the most important person in my life, and I knew him almost as well as I knew myself, I knew that there would be time to play mom and dad in real life.

The only thing I should focus on this year was winning his fourth Formula 1 world championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

My thoughts vanished when the door burst open, making me jump. Seb appeared with his suit hanging from his waist, his hair completely disheveled, and a face that revealed a concern appropriate to the situation I had not yet presented to him.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you're not feeling well. What happened? Do you want us to go to the doctor? I don't care about missing the practice sessions: you're the most important thing."

The German quickly took hold of my cheeks. I hadn't even sat up yet, and he was already trying to warm up my face with the palms of his hands, moving them from side to side and examining me as if he were a doctor and had the solution to my problems.

"I'm fine, love, calm down," I replied, freeing myself from his grip.

"I know you much more than I would like, Di. You're pale," he pointed out, "and you rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing a not-so-legal concert in the school square."

My anxiety increased at his perception. I couldn't hide the lie I had concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I'm fine," I insisted, swallowing hard as I tried to find the right words.

Seb didn't seem to agree, once again, with my response, and he didn't seem to want to let it go so easily.

For a moment, I was tempted to reveal the truth to him, especially when I noticed his eyes fixed on me, with no intention of looking away until I managed to say what I really wanted to tell him... As if he wanted to know that I was going to have a baby next January, if my gynecologist's calculations and the latest technology were not mistaken.

I gathered enough courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed me completely; when he made the gesture to hug me, and I leaned into his arms, I knew I couldn't keep avoiding the truth.

"Seb..." I began to articulate, slowly separating myself from him, "the truth is that something is wrong."

The boy clenched his jaw and became completely serious.

"Tell me, Di. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but..." I started off relaxed, only to have my voice break at the end. "This is different, and it's going to be a bit difficult for me."

"What do you mean by different and difficult for you? Diana, what's going on?"

My hands fidgeted nervously as I tried to find the most appropriate way to hurt him as little as possible. I noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now anger seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don't know how to do it without hurting you," I admitted in a whisper.

There it was, I had dropped it.

I didn't know what else to say, so I decided to wait for a reply from Sebastian. Anguish had taken hold of him, and I knew he was awaiting my words as much as I was waiting for his. His behavior wasn't helping me; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt had taken hold of me, as I had already anticipated, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for me to even think coherently enough to say something sensible.

I watched as now my boyfriend's gaze turned into pure pain, into a pleading search for answers that I didn't dare to give him.

"Seb..." I spoke again, struggling to maintain composure and simultaneously seeking his hand. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Diana," he called me by my full name. That was the indicator that things were not going well, and they wouldn't be back to normal. "Whatever it is, I can deal with it."

"I don't want us to be together anymore," I declared. "I'm not in love with you anymore. I haven't been, for about a month or so."

The silence that filled the room after my false confession was too uncomfortable. Tears filled the boy's eyes; mine did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought I had stopped loving him when the truth was that every day, especially now, I loved him more than ever.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Diana?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were doing great... I really thought we were better than ever."

"I don't know, Seb," I murmured through sobs, trying to hide my face so he wouldn't see how truly affected I was. "There are... there are couples that stop loving each other, and that's what I think has happened with us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can't lose you. I can't lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can't do anything, Seb, and I truly am sorry," I falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea. "Sometimes, things just stop being as they were in the beginning, and, well... what we had is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it's not the same as before! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this bomb on me, Diana!" Sebastian yelled. "I was even going to ask you to..."

"And that's exactly why I feel it's best for us to move on, but each on our own path!" I interrupted with another shout.

It's not real, Diana. Everything you're saying is a lie.

I breathed in and out more times than I would have liked, but it was necessary. This charade to try to make Seb's life a little better was not only costing me the end of our relationship but also my mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Diana?"

Vettel's voice oozed with anger. He was consumed by rage at the possibility of an answer he didn't want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly, causing his knuckles to turn white, were proof of this.

"No, not exactly."

And, once again, the veiled truth.

"What are you saying?" he snapped, getting closer and closer to me, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but... yes. There is someone else, Seb," I admitted.

Shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and curses, filled the room. I tried to tune them out. I thought all of this was part of an act, and I tried to convince myself that, in the future, everything would be fine, when I knew it would be quite the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Diana?! How could you deceive me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian yelled, unleashing his aggression on a vase that was on his desk, and throwing it to the ground, causing the water and flowers he had given me just a day ago to scatter. "We've lived through millions of experiences. We've grown and achieved our dreams, together, and now you leave me for some guy you've slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" I retorted, my words being true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," I told him, showing my disagreement on a topic I knew hurt me so much, and of which I was aware he mentioned to hurt me. "While you've been living your life as a driver and being the focus of attention for everyone, I've been working in the same lousy bar full of lecherous old men since I left high school," I yelled, furious. I knew this kind of stress wasn't good for the baby, but at this moment, I didn't care. "I've been saving as much as I could to build myself a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them hoping they'll reach someone someday, and won't be forgotten."

"I've told you millions of times that you don't need to work in that hellhole to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With my salary, we can both live comfortably more than enough."

"I know," I replied calmly, although I was on the verge of a panic attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone's help."

The blond laughed sarcastically. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at me:

"You've always been too stubborn, Diana. I can see the future expectations you have. Ultimately, I understand everything: if you never managed to get into the Berlin art academy on your own, and you're still working at the same place after all this time..."

I stood there, motionless, not knowing what to say or do because I knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. I felt as if my feet were glued to the ground with cement; his words hitting me continuously, wanting to hurt me more and more.

"How dare you say that to me?"

If I was already touched and almost broken after all this conversation, now I was completely shattered. Seeing my reaction, tears streaming down my cheeks incessantly, the guy seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached me, opening his arms with the intention of burying me in them. I, as stubborn as he said I was, refused not only the hug but any kind of physical, and not so physical, contact he wanted to have with me.

"Di, I'm sorry... I didn't mean that," yes, that was clear, but it was already said and done. I made a mistake. Please, forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and rectify the mistake, there was nothing more to be done.

Without saying anything else, I began to gather all my belongings from the driver's room of what could now be considered my ex-boyfriend's. I didn't want to; I didn't want to start the no-contact stage with the guy I had been in love with since I was ten, the one who had loved me like no one else ever had, and like no one else ever would.

I was saying goodbye to the father of my daughter to venture into raising her alone so that he could pursue his dream in peace, and achieve all those successes he so desired.

"What are you doing, Diana?"

"Packing. I'm leaving."

My eyes were fixed on the ground, my hands feeling the few belongings I had left to put in the small backpack I used to carry to the paddock. Now, I would have to go back to our hotel room and pack everything, put it in the suitcase as quickly as possible, and rush to the airport and pray not to miss the plane.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" he frowned, incredulous. "It's Friday, Diana, we have the whole weekend together."

"Well, from now on you'll have all the weekends ahead alone," I shook my head, unable to bear any more of his comments trying to make me stay. “From now on, you won't have me here anymore on weekends, or in your life either. I'm leaving your life, and I'm not coming back."

I repeated, emphasizing the last negation.

Vettel was speechless at my declaration. He shook his head constantly; he approached me, trying to take my belongings, but I prevented him.

As much as he wanted it, no: I wasn't going to stay.

"What do you mean by 'leaving my life and not coming back'?"

"It means I'm going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian," I turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I'm going back, you'll end up coming back too even if we live... you live in Switzerland," I corrected myself immediately, "but I hope we never see each other again."

The firmness behind my words frightened me quite a bit. Everything was turning into a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had escalated, to the point where I doubted what was real and what was just the opposite.

"I really hope you achieve everything you set out to do," I continued, insisting to myself not to break down right there. "I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones, as you've been wishing for so long. You, more than anyone, deserve them, and I know you're capable of that and much more."

I didn't say anything else because I had stopped being strong. I left, without looking back, the room where I had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and me.

I carefully descended the stairs. I walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why I was crying, where I was going, and if I had argued with the team's golden boy, including the thousands of questions Britta Roeske kept asking me and that I was trying to ignore at all costs.

I felt curious eyes following me wherever I went, but I didn't care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, we only had each other, the little pea, or whatever the size of the baby, and me.

"Di, wait!"

Sebastian's desperate shouts echoed behind me, getting closer and closer.

I stopped abruptly, clutching the only handle of the backpack hanging over my shoulder. I turned slowly towards the place where the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running, almost breathless, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even the ones still falling from his eyes.

"I love you, Di."

His voice was broken, and his hands acted on their own. Yet, that didn't stop him from taking my face in his hands and uniting us in a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where we tasted each other's tears as we had done so many times in our relationship. Where we exchanged millions of "I love yous" in a silence that only he and I knew perfectly.

"Please, don't go, Di," the German expressed.

"Seb, I love you too, but there's someone else."

At last, I had confessed... not in the most suitable way, but it was the right thing to do, especially considering what my goal was after this trail of lies.

"There's a new person in my life, and I'm afraid to tell you that, as much as I love you, I love her more than I love you, and I always will," I continued, knowing that each and every word I was saying about my baby, our baby, was true. "I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I will never stop loving you, but that person, right now, is my main priority."

"Have you been cheated on me?"

Sometimes, silence was worth more than a thousand words. Just in this case, it was quite the opposite.

I stood still for a few seconds in front of him, internally debating whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting any more attention than I already had. I chose the latter because neither my voice could come out nor could tears allow me to see clearly; not to mention my judgment, which had clouded to the point where I couldn't think clearly about what the next step should be to end this nightmare.

I ended up giving Seb one last look, whispering that I loved him and always would, even though it was over between us.

It only took me bowing my head, turning around, and continuing my path, fighting not to look back, to realize that I had made the biggest mistake of my life, and that I would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive myself.

And I knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn't either.

next part: 01. LOVING HIM WAS RED (click here and you'll read it!)

#ferrari seb #formula 1 #sebastian vettel x reader #aston martin #ferrari #formula 1 imagine #formula one #red bull seb #seb vettel #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfiction #sebastian vettel fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #vettel #sv5 #emma stone

[many-but-one]

hi system question!! it’s like the different names I have feel like completely different people and I suddenly feel like “well I’m (name) now I should go by name bc now I’m him again I am name” like. one name has its own personality, body/features, species, aesthetic, likes, pronouns, etc. and the other is very different in those ways. so Ive called these alters bc well they seem to be different people when u look at them. and different people use different names. and it’s not rlly me using the names just for fun as names but bc they feel like people and those are their names. but idk how to be sure that I’m not just forcing myself to be them or making up ocs/personas/etc. as far as I’m aware singlets don’t have this kind of situation with names unless they are purposefully forcing another persona for some reason like as a thing online or with a new person they meet .. but isn’t that what alters and switching Feels like… feeling like another person who uses another name?…if not then what bc when u feel like different people and each people use different names then ? plus when u also have trauma and dissociation and possible amnesia if amnesia counts as your memories feeling faded/void and not remembering lasts weeks/months and feeling like earlier in the day is far away and didn’t happen.. yet not recalling switching during those times where u don’t remember . is this what alters feel like?

Hello anon! This is Jules!

I first want to preface that I am not a professional so I am not going to definitively say "Yes! You have alters!" Because I don't know you at all and I am not your therapist. I am going to share my experiences and experiences of other systems I've talked to to try and help you get an idea of what having alters feels like. Just know that DID can be difficult to nail down, and many other disorders can be mistaken for DID, which is why it often takes so long for DID systems to receive a diagnosis. (Many systems spend many years in the psychiatric system being misdiagnosed with stuff that presents similarly to untreated DID.)

For me, Jules, having alters in the beginning (before I knew as many as I know today) felt very strange. I had very little communication, and even though they had always been present, I never really understood that they were there. Because all of the memories I've ever had have included them. (Well, most of them.) For example, I learned that our gatekeeper was co-con with me for a large part of my college career, literally ALL THE TIME. It was during this time I was certain I was a trans man because I felt male all the time and had extreme body dysphoria. Well, James is a cis male and gets body dysphoria because we are AFAB. However, James kept high walls between me and everyone else so I had no idea that they existed. Any voices that leaked out I just assumed was my inner thoughts. Which led to some funny "wait, why would I think that?" moments all throughout my life that I remember very vividly. In my freshman year of college things were absolutely crazy internally because I was starting to catch on that something fishy was happening. Stuff started coming out and I heard voices a lot and sometimes felt like I wasn't myself. Actually, a lot of the time I felt like I wasn't myself. I don't know how to perfectly put it into words, but basically things I enjoyed normally I found boring or I liked foods I normally wouldn't, or I acted very erratic and different from my normal demeanor. My mother says she noticed this and didn't really know what to do. She mentioned (when I told her I had DID a few months ago) that I would sometimes have extreme amnesia for things that she was sure I would know (like what we did yesterday, something big like a party) or just full-on act very aggressive and out of character. She recalled I also talked about how I always felt like I was dreaming and had a hard time distinguishing dreams from reality. She said there were multiple occasions where she would come into my room or a back area of our house and just see me staring off into space. She would try to get my attention and I would respond, but very distantly, like I wasn't really hearing her. I have no memory of these events. I told her that I was likely dissociating.

Once I understood alters existed in my fifth year of college and James started leaving front more often to work on other things internally, I started to recognize when he wasn't there. And when he was I could "feel" his presence, even if he wasn't speaking. Almost like having an aura or a vibe. It was incredibly comforting to me. He had always been there, since the very very beginning and had always protected me and everyone else. Of course he was comforting! Though, he was definitely quite cold and harsh at times, as he was very adamant in making sure I was not aware of trauma memories.

Nowadays that I am finally and truly accepting that the disorder exists and now have counted (I think???) about 29ish alters and fragments, things are much more fluid and it's easier to tell "oh, Foster is near front, he's starting to blend with me which means he might front soon." There is a lot less amnesia for us nowadays too because I am almost always co-con or at least semi-aware of what's going on in front. It's taken over a year of specialized DID therapy to get this far. My DID therapy is moving very quickly, which came from a lot of working on communication outside of therapy and taking breaks when necessary. (Going mach speed through DID therapy is not advised...I learned that the hard way.) Since more trauma has come out recently, things have been slowing down a lot...which I prefer, honestly. Slow and steady wins the race. It's a marathon, not a sprint.

So yeah, the feeling that someone else is fronting soon or feeling their presence seems to be normal. I can say "Pain is co-con and Foster is around/nearby" and that would make sense in a DID context.

However, other symptoms of DID are necessary, which you have mentioned. Such as amnesia for life occurrences, amnesia for trauma, etc. I've heard OSDD systems have less amnesia but can still have it, but perhaps not as much blackouts as DID folks have. And parts in OSDD-1b can be defined, but I heard more passive type switches are more common, as in "becoming" someone else rather than a "hard switch" that would happen in folks with DID who suffer from amnesia. I am not an expert in OSDD (or DID, I just happen to have the latter and have worked with specialist and asked a lot of questions in that time.) so if someone has more info (preferably with sources if you can because OSDD is VERY misunderstood in the system community and I want you to receive correct information) please feel free to contribute.

I think if you believe you have trauma, experience amnesia and dissociation to some degree, and feel like you have different self-states that take control of the body in some way (even if it's not physical control, such as being co-con and liking things you wouldn't normally like or acting strange when you are still in control because of passive influence) then there's a possibility that DID/OSDD could be involved. However, other disorders can present similarly to DID like I already mentioned, which is a big reason why DID takes so long to diagnose. If I were you, I would do a lot more research regarding the subject and not only ask me, a random Tumblr system that doesn't know you. XD I am happy to educate, but I am not going to diagnose. Even if I was a licensed therapist I would not be able to do so because I really don't know enough about your situation.

Depending on your view of syscourse, there are some really great blogs that provide fantastic information about DID. Here they are:

@justanothersyscourse

@constellation-of-us

@foreverfragmented (this blog as a Google Drive full of DID/OSDD information in their pinned post which is fantastic.)

There used to be a blog called anti-endo-agony-auncles and I know they changed their url but I cannot for the life of me remember it so anyone knows it please tell me. They are also a fantastic resource.

This blog talks about DID recovery without psychiatry, which is badass if it works for you:

@holywheel

For support and positivity for trauma survivors (not just DID systems):

@traumasurvivors

Just know that some of these blogs require you to be an adult, and they are anti-endo. A fantastic system that is unaligned in syscourse is @circulars-reasoning. Though they seem to focus more on the syscourse side of things, which I don't recommend early on in trying to figure out what's going on with you. I made that mistake and, similarly to circulars-reasoning, was involved in the endo community for a while which only proved to confuse me more. Because I didn't believe I had trauma, but was experiencing DID symptoms regardless.

ALSO do not expect to get a diagnosis out of any of these blogs either, as you should not be trying to get a diagnosis from someone on Tumblr. However, these folks have good information that might help clear some things up. Overall, you should do research from scholarly sources, they are available as pdfs basically everywhere nowadays.

Good luck, stay safe, and be well.

Peace!

-Jules

#anon #anon asks #jules #jules answers #advice #did #did osdd #dissociative system #did alters #trauma #dissociative identity disorder #did system #traumagenic system #osddid #alters #asks #to the folks that I tagged #if you want me to remove a tag #please let me know!!! #I don't want to make you uncomfortable #I just love y'all's blogs and you have great info that isn't heavily uninformed like 99% of did tumblr

[eisheartoffantasy]

Entry #8. Useless, Useless, Useless

Useless.

That's it, that's the only word I can think of whenever I catch a glimpse of myself in any reflective surface — I hate myself enough to avoid looking at my reflection as much as possible. While the self-hatred is partly towards my appearance, it is even more towards...well, everything else.

For example, the fact that I still don't have my driver's license at 20...failed the road test twice. The fact that I've never worked at an actual job. The fact that I haven't done better in college. The fact that I have no close friends. The fact that I don't have my life figured out at all, not even close. The fact that I've accomplished pretty much nothing meaningful in the two decades I've been alive. The fact that I'm so ridiculously paranoid about everything. The fact that I cope with my problems by avoiding, running away from them. The fact that I give up as soon as I'm required to work harder.

A person like me is so useless. So. Damn. Useless.

I hate going to classes. Because when I do, I inevitably hear other students talk about their succeeding careers, how they're getting their third internship, or signing a contract with some big company once they graduate, or winning another award for a new amazing project they just finished. No, not just success stories career-wise — the fact that they even talk to each other so openly as if everyone is friends with each other, all friended and followed on social media, all exchanged their numbers. They probably have a group chat somewhere to invite people to parties in bundles, a group chat that nobody would add me into because nobody would've cared to ask me if I was interested in joining one.

Haha...I know what you're thinking: what a pathetic, salty, self-pitying little bitch! Is it not your own fault that you don't have any friends or directions in your career? You could've tried harder — no, you could've tried at all at socializing or your studies and you would've been somewhere by now. But nooooo. Instead, here you are complaining about a sad ass situation that you landed yourself in.

I know that, I know. I know my current state is the consequence of my own incompetence. I know. I'm useless. I know.

I can't even claim to be trying at this point; anyone who's trying wouldn't be in my state. I allowed myself to stop trying because I got discouraged...but by what? What discouraged me? Failures? Then what the hell led to those failures? I did, I led to my failures.

I cause my own problems, proceed to be defeated by them, again and again and again...until I have nothing left in me to keep going...and I just wither away in self-hatred. How did I get to this point even...?

Useless, Ei. You are so useless. Useless to the world, useless to yourself. Just useless.

Have I always been so useless? Does a person have to always be, what's the opposite of useless, useful?

Ah...typing all of this out already drained me. This is probably the most productive thing I did today. Haha. My useless self needs to go and be useless asleep — I'm sick with either COVID or the flu (waiting on test result), which is possibly why I feel even more negative about myself than usual. My body is at its limit — ironic, isn't it? I've barely done anything useful these days, yet my body acts like it's been laboring away for years without breaks.

But is that actually it...? Have I been laboring away for years without breaks? Is this just my body's, and my mind's, way of telling me I've been pushing myself too far that I've exhausted my functions early? Am I currently so useless because I'm giving myself a forced break?

That...just sounds like I'm making excuses for being useless, huh. I'm sorry.

I'll be back when I feel better...hopefully I'll have more uplifting things to write then.

With warmth and hopefulness,

Ei

#mental health #personal journal #online diary #depression blogging #self growth #rant #self loathing #i hate myself

[pearl-kite]

I manage to go a few days thinking that, yeah, it was just a rough start to the school year, I'll be fine given enough time, but then sit down to figure out what I'm doing for the week re:lessons and just want to die to get out of the responsibility

#kite rambles #was looking into possible other careers again today because I've been forced to think about work again #would really like to not deal with this dread on a weekly basis #the saddest is that I'm only mildly exaggerating how badly I want to get out of it #hate new schools hate new years I don't get to reuse any of the stuff I've made or done before #stuck making everything from scratch and I'm just so TIRED of having to be a first year teacher all the time #so fucking tired of it that it almost makes me miss retail #only almost #but that in itself is pretty fucking bad imo

[anime-corner]

I'm Here | Oikawa T.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back (hopefully for longer since classes are about to end). Anyways, this one's a bit shorter than usual. I hope you like it!

"Yahoo! Knock, knock~ Sorry, practice finished later than usual!" Oikawa called out but was only greeted by darkness, "(n/n)-chan?"

The house was still, not a single noise was heard. Oikawa doubted that you would leave without texting him, it was practically tradition to crash at your place every after school. He looked around, stealing a loaf of bread before heading upstairs. Dim lights could be seen from under the closed door as Oikawa turned the knob, inviting himself in as usual.

"Hey, Iwa-chan told me that-- what are you doing typing, er writing, whatever it is you're doing in the dark?!" He bellowed, flicking the light switch on. A hiss escaped your lips as you momentarily closed your eyes to adjust to the lighting.

"Shut up, Tooru. I'm kind of busy at the moment so if you don't mind, I'd like to finish all of this tonight." His eyes glanced over at the stack of papers on your left as your right hand hovered on top of another, gripping on a pencil tightly. Your left hand was typing away as fast as it could.

"What's all these? Haven't you finished the assignment yesterday?"

"Well, yes but, this one's for the student council. I need to file a report and it needs to be passed at midnight." You then gestured towards the paper, a bit crumpled with the many times you wrote the wrong formula, "And this is for Monday's class presentation."

"And these?" He pointed towards the stack of papers.

"That's…" You blinked a couple of times before responding, "I think it's the ones from the council three days ago that I haven't checked yet. Anyways, I'll handle that after I'm done with this."

"How many hours of sleep did you even get?" He asked.

"What? I don't think my sleep schedule has anything to do with this, Tooru." You answered, not taking your eyes off of your work.

"Just tell me." Oikawa insisted, sitting on your bed as he stared at you.

"Fine. Around two or so? I'll give it a three since I've been running on coffee since I woke up." His brows furrowed, worry etched on his face if only you took the time to look at him.

"That's not good, (n/n)-chan. Come on, I'll finish that." You shook your head, still not lifting your gaze away.

"No way, you had practice just minutes ago! I'm perfectly capable of finishing these within the day if you just so let me. Now shush-- hey!"

"I mean it, (y/n)." You huffed as you glared at him, "You need your sleep. I'll wake you up before dinner."

"What? No! I can't, Tooru!" You protested, standing up from your seat as you felt a slight pain from your head. You shook it off as nothing, "Tachibana-sensei's breathing down my neck saying she'd be the reason why I wouldn't be graduating this year."

"You still have a day to go before classes start again on Monday. You don't need to rush everything today--"

"Haven't you been listening? The report is due tonight. These," You gestured towards the stack of papers, "Might as well be due at the same time. And after this one, I've also got to revise my notes. I'm falling behind, Tooru and I don't want to hear anything from my mother once I move back."

"You won't (y/n), trust me. You're the smartest girl I know in school and probably the busiest one. I'm sure she'd be proud of you--"

"You see, that's not enough. I need to get my grades up, a bit higher than now." You countered. You retorted, huffing in annoyance at how the setter wouldn’t leave you all alone.

"You don't need to. What you need is to calm down a bit. You know that--"

"Will you stop it, Tooru!? You just don't get it, do you?! My parents thought that I would get into Shiratorizawa and what did I do? Fail the exam!" You bellowed, standing up from your seat as the male stepped back a bit. You stood up, voice raised as Oikawa stepped back, "My mom wanted me to at least be at the top during my first and second year, to at least in her words, redeem myself. But I failed on that too. Now, you're telling me to calm down? To take a break? Well, I can't. I've got my family's voices screaming at me saying I should do better! Do you know how--"

"You're crying, (y/n)..." Oikawa whispered as he placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears. You lightly pushed him back, rubbing your way with your sleeves. He pointed out. A hand lay on your cheek as his thumb wiped away a tear, you pushed him away after, wiping it away with your hands.

"S-shut up. I'm not crying. Just… leave me alone for today, Tooru. I'm really busy and I can't afford to let all of my hard work turn to dust."

"I'll help you."

"For the last time, I--" He cut you off.

"Just let me help!" He was already frustrated seeing the girl he adored so much struggling with her life.

He knew of her problem with her parents and most importantly, he knew the conflict she had with herself. He knew that feeling more than ever. And he didn't want her to feel the same way he did during that time.

And he was afraid that, while it might not cost her a knee, she might lose so much more if she continues. Perhaps, her eyesight or her health. Worst case, her life. And he wasn't going to let her get to that point.

"If Iwa-chan was here, he'd know what to do… but he isn't. And I don't want to disturb him too. I'm just trying my best to help you, because I understand, I understand you the most out of everyone," He walked closer, enveloping you in a hug as the two of you sat on the floor, "You just want to prove something but, you're all fed up about everything. You're trying your best but I guess, to others, that's not good enough."

Tears slowly dripped down from your face once again as you buried your head on his chest, gripping on his jacket, "Why can't you leave me alone, Tooru? I don't care if you get me… I just want to be left alone."

"I'm staying, (y/n) and that's final. I'm not going to let you carry that burden all by yourself anymore. I'm here, remember? I'll help you," Oikawa whispered in your ear as he caressed your back, "You're, besides Iwaizumi, the one I treasure the most. I care about you and I don't want you to suffer like this when I know that I could have tried and saved you from it."

"Why?" That one question made him silent for a while as you looked up at him.

"I… it's because…" He sighed, making you somewhat dread and anticipate the answer at the same time, "I love you, you know that? And while this might possibly be-- ah, who am I kidding? It's the worst time possible to tell you this, I don't think that I'll be able to get another chance like this."

"T-Tooru… I…" You started but went silent as he brought his hand up.

"Please hear me out?" He inhaled before opening his mouth again to speak, "I… I want to support you (y/n), the same way you and Iwaizumi did all these years, especially during the time when I overworked my knee. The two of you were always there. So, let me be there for you too."

"It's just not easy when you've been doing everything yourself for most of your life…" You gulped, avoiding his gaze as you clenched your fists tightly.

"I know. But, I really do love you. And I promise that you'll never regret choosing me unlike how I regret eyeing up girls when I knew that you were right in front of me the whole time and they'll never be you. They'll never be as hardworking, caring and overly kind as you. You're perfect and so much more. Because everything means nothing to me if I can have you to call as mine." Oikawa said, moving a strand of your hair away from your face.

"Even the nationals?" You asked, teasing him a bit.

"I… okay, maybe not the nationals. I still want to beat Ushiwaka and all. But that's besides the point," He shook his head, placing his chin on top of your head, "You're amazing and beautiful, even when you think you're not. And I'm really sorry for confessing at the worst time possible. But, believe me when I say that I love you."

"Why are you… confessing now?" Somehow, this question made him think. It's not like he hadn't practiced his answer in the mirror for a million times, making sure it was perfect to his ears. Not at all. But, given the situation, he'd have to abandon that script and start a new one.

"Well, it just pains me to see you doing the same things I did before, even though your academics and my career as a player are two different things, and I thought that if I manage to successfully tell you how I feel, I could somehow help you carry all of this. Because by that time, I would hopefully be your boyfriend." Oikawa spoke genuinely, moving one of his hands from her back to her head, stroking her hair.

"You don't need to be my boyfriend to help me, you know."

"I know that but you just make it so difficult, argh! Everytime I see you frustrated, I just wanna hug you and kiss you and then take over your work while you rest. But I can't do that as a friend! So… so..." Not that he thought about it, what he said sounded stupid, "Yeah, I know. It's a dumb excuse."

"You're an idiot." The third year laughed out loud.

"I know, Iwa tells me that all the time." You lightly hit his shoulder, hiding the smile that was threatening to show, "At least I made you smile right?"

"I guess you did, Tooru. I guess you did." He hummed in satisfaction before something else you couldn't quite figure out what was etched on his face.

"I'm not going to force you to answer my feelings right away, (y/n)-chan. I can wait." He stammered.

"Why wait when I feel the same way? I love you too, Tooru." He perked up suddenly, making you hide the massive blush on your face.

"Wait, really? You're not joking right? (y/n)?" The setter found you fast asleep, whether or not you were faking it, he wouldn't know. He only chuckled, kissing your head, "Alright… I'll let you get some rest. You deserve it."

He carried you over to your bed, tucking you in. His hand lingered on your cheek, a smile on his face as he whispered.

"Dream of me will you, (y/n)-chan?" Oikawa stood up straight, eyes darting towards your mess of a desk, "Now… which one did she say she needed by midnight?"

Let me hold your hand and carry the same burden you hold. I'll always be here, even if you push me away.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!! x y/n #haikyuu!! x you #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfics #haikyuu imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #oikawa fluff #haikyuu angst #oikawa angst #haikyuu fanfic #hq angst #haikyuu #haikyu #hq!! #haikyu!!

[madampianoo]

Hey guys 💖 Here's Zlatans latest FULL interview with France Football. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did. This was such tasty appetiser before tomorrows main course meal match and start of his new season.

P.S. Please excuse english, it was google translated

Have you ever found your stolen Fido Dido ?

"Not. They stole it and I never saw it again. But maybe it was cosmic justice for all the bikes I stole. It's a pity, it was my favorite bike ... "

If you could find the one who stole it from you now, what would you do to it?

"I would buy him a new one and take mine back."

You devoted a lot of space to that story in your autobiography. Was it a turning point in your life to move from the role of victim to the other side?

"No. I was young and stupid. I did all sorts of things to survive. I needed a bike to ride here and there. When they stole my bike, I started stealing them from others. I did it solely for the reason that I could not afford to buy others. I know it's not a positive story ... But things like that are done to move forward in life, right? ”

What would you steal from football today if you could and give it to little Zlatan ?

"Nothing. I would just tell him to be more patient. And that his hard work will return one day. I worked hard, but I didn’t have the patience. I wanted everything now. "

How did you learn to be patient?

"It's very difficult when you're young. But when you have the experience I have now, learn what patience is. But when you are young and wild, full of various ideas and energy, when you want to discover the whole world and learn everything at once, then it is not easy to be patient. You need to be surrounded by people who have experience, who will calm you down and who will tell you the truth. "

What will be left behind Zlatan Ibrahimovic when he finishes his career?

"I do not know. Something will remain ... If something remains, it means I did a good job. Maybe some of my ideas and thoughts will remain from everything. That you should believe in yourself, that you should have your own personality and that you should not refrain from saying something you think. "

Did you make mistakes?

"I make mistakes every day. I am making a mistake now that I am talking about your newspaper. "

Maybe we're making a mistake talking to you too ...

"I'm kidding ... Mistakes are normal, we make them every day and they help us to be better people. "No one is perfect."

What are you most proud of?

"Everything I did. I come from a place where everyone condemned me and told me that something was impossible. I was constantly told that I was not good enough. And I'm still here. I stand still in my football boots. At 39 years old. And I'm proud of that. "

Could you have done more than this?

"It can always be more and better. It's a question of mentality. "

Even you?

"Every person can do better and more. In my head I always aim for the maximum and I am always convinced that I have given the maximum. Could I have done better, that can be discussed ... "    

Do you ever get tired of the attention of the public, journalists, fans, everyone's opinions?

"It's all part of my job. I didn't choose it that way. When you are as good as me, that is inevitable and must be accepted. "

How do you comment on the claims of some that you are a great player in small games?

"Everyone has the right to an opinion and to express it."

Did that bother you when you were younger?

"Not. I used it as a propellant to be as good as possible. I was motivated by such stories. I went forward and looked to never be satisfied. I received all these criticisms in such a way as to ignite the fire in my heart and to extract additional energy from them. "

What do you regret?

"It simply came to our notice then. Do you really think that I would be a better football player if I won all the trophies? "

Not. Even the Brazilian Ronaldo did not win everything ...

"Exactly. Of course, it would be wonderful if I won everything. But that doesn't make me a weaker or better footballer. I like guys who say to me: 'Zlatan, you didn't win the World Cup, you're not a good player'. Okay ... But it's easier to win the World Cup when you're French than when you're Swedish. Let's go back to the Champions League. The longer you wait for it, the sweeter it is. I still have a goal to win it. I won everything but her in club football. But I won't quack even if I don't win it because I've already done a lot more than most footballers. I'm a happy man. "

You didn't even win the Golden Ball. Does Zlatan miss the Golden Ball or does the Golden Ball miss Zlatan ?

"I think they miss me there on that list of conquerors."

You finished in fourth place in terms of the number of votes in 2013, and that is your best ranking. Is it weird that you didn't win it?

"You see, every player wants a trophy that tells him he is the best in the world. Deep down, I think I'm the best in the world. It would be prestigious if I won it, but it is the voters who decide. You journalists are voting and you know why I didn't win it! Ha-ha-ha ... ”

Well, it's not just us from France, there are also journalists from all over the world ...

"A-ha-ha!"

Messi and Ronaldo have won it several times. What do they have that you don't have?

"If you talk about essential qualities, I have nothing less than them. If you look at the trophies, I didn't win the Champions League like them ... But I really don't know how you measure and calculate that. Nor am I obsessed with it. You see, when you do good collective things, then individual rewards are a consequence of that. An individual cannot be good if the collective is weak. "

Where do you see yourself in the history of football? If there was a table, where would you put yourself?

"What do you want me to answer you?"

Who would be next to you on that table?

"It is not relevant to compare players from different eras. Everyone played in their generation, with different teammates. These are difficult things to compare. Everyone has their own story, and mine is full of problems. "

Does your personality set you apart in the world of football?

"I am just what I am. People try hard to be ideal to others. I always say ‘Be what you are and that is perfection’. I will not change because of success. For no reason will I change. Whatever happens, I will be what I am. I just want to play my game and have my team win. The rest will come of its own accord. I didn't choose to be famous. It's just a consequence of the work I do. "

We thought about jumping out of the pattern and what you're doing on the field.

"But it's all connected to the field. People talk a lot off the field today. But if you're not good on the field, and you talk a lot, then you're just a clown. "

Are there many clowns in the world of football?

"As much as you want ... A bunch!"

You consider yourself ideal in your head because you are what you are. How do you know this is right?

"I don't want to be perfect to someone else by force and talk about how I don't make mistakes. Maybe all this is a mistake. But I will remain what I am. I don't want you to send me questions before the interview, I don't want to know what you're going to ask me, I don't care. Readers will judge us whether the interview is good or not. "

When you left Paris Saint-Germain, you said, 'I came like a lion, I leave like a king . ' Do you really care so much about being remembered?

"I wrote my story in Paris and left my motto. Now let someone else write it and leave your motto. I don’t try to make people remember me by what I say. He will remember me on the field and what I did there. "

Are you arrogant or pretentious?

"I'm just a man full of confidence."

Does it matter to you that they recognize you as special?

"I am not special. I am a normal guy and a professional. I don’t want to share my whole life with the rest of the world. I'm not an instagram clown who wakes up in the morning and thinks what is the most beautiful photo for him to post. I share my professional challenges with the rest of the world. Privacy must exist. I don't want to share it either. But I want to share some parts of my professional life because it's part of my job. "

Do you deliberately block the fragility and insecurity from your childhood with your behavior, when the fierce guys in your Rosengard called you "lukewarm"?

"No. And I have a part of the personality that is fragile. I have emotions and weaknesses. There are things that hurt me. It's all natural. I'm not the Hulk, I'm not Superman, nor have I ever wanted to play them. I had difficult moments that hardened me, but I stepped forward. Today, I am no longer a guy of 20 or 25, but a family man with two children. I think differently, but my character has remained the same. "

Are you still a fierce guy at 40?

"People, is it possible that you still consider me a football gangster?" I know you had that title and some picture ... I'm no gangster. Of course I'm still a strong guy. I am almost two meters tall and I train hard and work on myself every day. I'm not someone who lies on the beach and shows muscles. I was born like this and I try to adapt the game to my constitution. I'm not as fast as I was at the age of 25, but now I have some other qualities. "

Does that mean you're a good guy?

"Yes I am. When you meet me, you will see how much heart I have. When they don't know me, people hate me. "

Do you want to be loved by everyone?

"No. I just want to be respected when I do something good. In fact, what is the love of all? There can be no love from someone I don't even know. Love is something reserved for those closest to you. Take Inter fans for example. When I was with them, they loved me. Now they hate me. This means that love has never been as real as with loved ones. Love cannot arise and disappear so quickly. I'm not one of those guys who will organize humanitarian actions just for someone to tell them: 'Wow, he's a good guy!'. It's a 'fake'. I'm going to do something because I want to do it. And not because someone would like me. I do it with my heart, some do it with my brain. If I send money to hospitals, it doesn't have to be known. I'm doing this because they really need that money with this damn crown. And I will not brag publicly. "

Is that one of the worst things in football today?

"It's simply part of football. People want to have perfect images. But in the end, they will meet reality. Everything will be known. Look at Tiger Woods. It seemed to be the most perfect character in the world ... People, just be what you are and don't try to be someone else. Don’t manipulate because it will all come back to you. No filters! ”

When you learned the Swedish national anthem, did you do it from the heart, not to be loved in your own country?

"When I was little, I didn't feel like a Swede. My parents are from Bosnia and Croatia. They influenced me to feel different, to look at me differently, to judge me differently and to treat me differently. That's why I didn't feel 100 percent Swedish. But today I am 100 percent Swedish. Even in France today, many talk about some old France and old times. The world today is full of various mixes and contrasts. And it doesn’t mean you’re not 100 percent Swedish or French if you accept that world. When you are young, you do not understand some things. It is mentally difficult when you are treated differently as a child. People think that it will pass quickly, and they do not know that the consequences remain for years. I was always in favor of getting the strongest blow at once because the pain lasts less than being constantly harassed with small and vile blows. Constant harassment leaves longer traumas. But those people who are harassing do not know that they are backward and live in the old world while we pass in front of them with the new world. It is a world of open minds in which I am Swedish and in which my children are Swedes. "

Do you still think differently from LeBron James, with whom you used to be friends?

"I do not want to enter politics because it divides people. Football unites people. I was lucky to meet people I would never have met without football. From all over the world. "Sport and politics are two different worlds and I am glad to be in the former."

But it happens that you express an attitude that has to do with politics.

"We athletes spread love and joy. I'm good at it and I know how to do it. You will not bring politics into my world. "

What are your fears and anxieties?

"With this corona situation, the world has changed completely. The situation is improving a bit, but ... The other day I went out to a restaurant with my family. It was weird. Then cam video audience in stadiums. And that was weird to me. I got used to it and I only wanted one thing: To go home ?! I'm used to the house, the masks ... It won't be easy to come back mentally. I hope that everything will be the same as before, but I am afraid that this will leave consequences on people. "

When you became a parent, did your children bring fears?

"There is no room for fear when we talk about children. We can talk about weaknesses. When you have children, they become your weakness. Then your life is no longer in your hands but in theirs. They become the most important ... Guys, we missed the interview date! I won't give you any more! I'm too expensive to tell you so much, ha-ha-ha ... "

How expensive are you?

"A lot ... Ask PSG!"

Can I have another five, ten minutes?

"Come on."

We would like to ask you about retirement. Are you afraid to stop playing football?

"A little bit. It is difficult for every football player when he has to retire. You have been programmed throughout your career. It is known when you get up, have breakfast, train, have lunch, rest, have dinner ... Someone else takes care of everything, it's just yours to press the 'repeat' button every day. The first day you wake up at the end of your playing career, you ask yourself, 'What the hell am I going to do today?' You are no longer programmed and you do not know what to do. That scares me a little. But what should I do? Luckily, I don’t think about it yet. I'm not for retirement. "

We in France call it the ‘little death’.

"That's it! Absolutely! After a lot depends on what kind of person you are. How will you cope and how will you fight. It's not easy".

But isn't that some kind of relief? You can eat and drink whatever you want

"After my playing career, I want to disappear. When you are in this world like me for so long and you know what you have been through physically and mentally, you just need to disappear and enjoy life

#ibrahimovic #ac milan #zlatan ibrahimovic

[quinncupine]

Obscured Chapter Four: Enter Mask

Chapter Word Count: 5, 629

Link: AO3

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Previous Chapter: Three

Next Chapter: Five

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, drugs

...

The house was quiet. No one wanted to speak, especially you. The entire ride home you sat in the back and fumed, refusing to talk to anyone. Childish, yes, but you felt like you were being treated like one. It was bad enough that Izuku was treating you like some frail little doll that would break the instant anyone touched it, now your friends saw you as some pathetically useless civilian. He didn't even bother to explain his reasoning, he was more paranoid than you've ever seen him.

Ochaco and Momo were sitting across from you, on the couch in Inko's living room, each trying their hardest not to acknowledge the awkward tension in the room. Ochaco was buried in her phone, typing away. Momo was staring into her teacup with such an intense focus, you'd think it was revealing some deep secret to her. You could smell whatever delicious food Inko was whipping up in the kitchen. She'd kicked everyone out of there, said dinner was her treat.

Inko was the only one you weren't mad at. If anything, she should be just as upset as you. She hadn't been allowed to leave the house for those two weeks either. Izuku claiming it was for her own safety. It was like he couldn't see how much of an overbearing blockhead he was being. You loved the man, but sometimes his fears outweighed his senses.

You'd been effectively ignoring everyone for the past few hours, scrolling through articles on your phone. You'd been sent a link to an article about a possible gang war creating tensions in the Agamar Quarter. You didn't recognize the sender, some obscure online blog that you'd never heard of before. It didn't really interest you and you were about to click out of it, but saw something that caught your eye. It was a picture of Izuku, well Deku.

With a renewed interest, you read the entire thing. Apparently, the Hashira gang had been found murdered in one of their stash houses. It was a massacre and it could possibly lead to more gang violence over territory. Deku had been called in to help with the investigation which you found odd. He didn't normally investigate gang crimes, especially something so far from his sector. The information in the article was scarce so you focused on Izuku's face in the photo. It was a side shot of him leaving the scene, and he looked nervous.

"Would you like some more tea?" Momo broke the silence.

You glanced up. You'd been so engrossed in the story that you almost forgot they were sitting across from you.

The cup on the table was untouched and probably cold by now. "No, I'm fine."

You went back to the article, but Ochaco spoke up next.

"Uh, so," She put her phone down. "Did any dresses catch your eye today? We can always try another shop if you didn't like any of those."

With a sigh, you dropped your phone. They weren't going to leave you alone now that you finally started talking again.

"I don't even know if I want to go anymore." You murmured.

Ochaco frowned. "To the gala?"

To be honest, you didn't feel like going anywhere with anyone at the moment. You hadn't had a moment to yourself for over two weeks and it was really starting to get on your nerves. You especially didn't want to go anywhere with Izuku either. You were angry at him, at yourself, at the entire criminal industry. He was taking this whole protective thing way too far. There was a limit to how much coddling you could take and he'd already surpassed that a long time ago.

It might have bothered you less if you didn't keep comparing yourself to how he treats Momo and Ochaco. You knew for a fact that he treated them as equals when facing disastrous circumstances, that he could count on them to handle themselves. It wasn't a fair comparison, you knew that. They were heroes. They trained for years to fight villains and had quirks to protect themselves. You had nothing like that. All you had was your experience running a busy E.R. They weren't the same, but he could at least give you some credit on handling stressful situations.

There was a small voice in the back of your mind telling you that it was because you were born quirkless. He didn't see you in the same light as the others because you had a disadvantage, a weakness.

You shook that thought away. Izuku respected you, he always had. He would never look down on you because you were born without power. He used to be the same as you. He would know how it felt better than anyone, it was what made him so determined to be a hero in the first place. You two might not have had the same career goals, but you did share one motivation; helping people.

You brushed the hair out of your face and finally looked up at them. "Are you bringing anyone?" You asked Ochaco.

She blinked. "Um...maybe."

"You found a date?" Momo smirked. "When were you going to tell us this?"

Ochaco blushed. "No, it's not a date! We're just going as friends."

"Come on," Momo elbowed her. "Spill the beans."

Your phone buzzed as you got another email, but you ignored it. This was actually getting interesting. Ochaco didn't date all that much, and she usually just went to the gala with Tsu and some of the other girls. But if she was bringing someone to the gala, a highly publicized event, then it had to be serious.

Ochaco rubbed the back of her head and shrugged, covering her burning face. "It's um..."

The attention in the room shifted as the front door opened. You jumped out of your seat and zoomed to the door, the girls trailing behind you.

Izuku stepped through and closed the door quietly. He wasn't expecting you to torpedo straight into him, almost knocking him off his feet, in a fierce hug. As quickly as you slammed into him, you jumped back and slapped his shoulder.

"Ow, what was that for?" He rubbed his shoulder.

"For worrying me!" You crossed your arms. "And for making me angry. And all the other dumb stuff you did."

Guilt flooded his eyes as he stared at you, but you'd been waiting for hours to chew him out and you weren't stopping there.

"You gave me some ominous demand to come home and then leave me to worry all day while you've been out doing who-knows-what!" You shouted. "You've been running around crime scenes with your little secrets while you force me to stay here like some sort of pet! I've had it!"

Izuku shrunk as you finally sucked in a breath. "Y/N... I didn't realize th-"

"No, you've had your head stuck too far up your ass to realize anything!" You stepped closer. "Now tell me what the hell is going on."

He glanced behind you. The others had gathered at the end of the room, looking very stiff and out of place. You'd forgotten they were here again. It was already embarrassing enough that they had to play bodyguard, now they had to witness your tantrum.

You rubbed your face and stepped away from him. "Please just explain what's going on."

Izuku was silent, almost like he was afraid to speak. You'd gone too far and you were too embarrassed to even admit it to everyone. What the hell was going on with your moods lately? You were like a compass that had gone haywire.

"I'm sorry." He finally whispered. "I'll explain everything."

He lead everyone into the dining room. Izuku sat at the head of the table and Inko sat at the other end. He scanned over everyone, looking so uncomfortable, squirming in the hot seat.

"I'm sorry," He said again. "I didn't want you to worry."

You held up your hand. "I don't want excuses, I want answers. So talk."

His green hair was frizzy, he kept running his fingers through it, a nervous habit. "I think....I think Tatsuya, everything about him, was orchestrated by someone else."

There was silence. He locked eyes with you, waiting for some type of reaction. When you showed none, he continued.

"The Hashira gang was murdered early this morning. I think the same person was behind it as well."

"What makes you say that?" Momo asked.

"It was a message." He frowned, staring a hole into the wood table.

Ochaco leaned forward. "They left you a message?"

"The entire scene was a message." He whispered. "I think this was personal. Someone I must have wronged in the past, someone that wants revenge."

He threaded his fingers together, nervously fiddling with his thumbs. Staring at him, you lost that fire of anger that had been squatting in your stomach for so long. He was scared. This case was getting to him. You'd been so caught up in your own little ball of emotions, you overlooked just how much he was carrying with him, and it was a lot. Guess he wasn't the only one acting like a blockhead.

"Do you have any idea who?" Momo asked.

He shook his head. "Not at the moment...It's a long list."

Silence enveloped the room in cool tension as the information was processed. If this was personal and they had been behind Tatsuya and these other mass murders, then you could see why he'd been so freaked out lately.

Dammit. This was supposed to be over.

"What happens now?" You locked eyes.

"Whoever this person is, they won't hesitate to attack anyone close to me. They've proven that already." He paused. "But I refuse to let that happen again."

"How can I help?" Momo asked.

Ochaco nodded. "Yeah, we’re with you. Tell us what you want."

Izuku gave them a small smile. "Kacchan and Kirishima are working together on this. So is Shoto. They have some leads we're following." He glanced at the door. "Tsukauchi stationed some uniforms outside the house." He looked back at you. "I can station a hero with you here too, someone we trust."

You turned to Inko. She'd been sitting quietly this whole time. No one had asked her what she thought of all this. She would be in just as much danger as you, so she should have a say. Plus this was her house.

"Inko, what do you want to do?"

She sniffed and looked at her son. "I trust your judgement Izuku."

He nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Okay, I'll start making calls, see what the others have come up with."

A timer went off and everyone flinched. Inko waved everyone back down. "Dinner's almost ready." She scurried off into the kitchen.

"Y/N," Izuku leaned towards you. "Can I talk to you?"

Ochaco stood up, pulling Momo up with her. "We should get going. I'll check in with you later."

Momo nodded. "Yes, let us know what we can do to help."

"Shoto has the case files. You can talk to him."

Izuku walked them to the door where they gave quick goodbyes to everyone. Once they were gone, Izuku pulled you into the living room and sat you down.

"You have every right to be angry with me." He said quietly. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

He looked so hurt, like a puppy that had just been kicked. Damn, you could never stay mad when that stupid baby face of his looked so sad. Why did he always have to look so adorable, it was maddening sometimes.

"I'm not angry with you." You cocked your head. "Well, I was. It's just that you're treating me like a kid. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself you know."

His eyes grew wide. "Of course I know that! You keep proving that."

"Then why are you treating me like some kind of glass doll." You narrowed your eyes.

He shook his head and leaned forward. "I'm sorry. I just keep thinking about what could have happened. What can happen, if a villain gets to you. It, it terrifies me."

You stared at him for a moment. His hands had curled around your own, squeezing gently, as if you might disappear if he let go. His head was bowed, the edges of his curls were brushing against your neck as he rested against your shoulder. You leaned your head on top of his and closed your eyes.

Well, I'm not worried." You whispered. "You should have more faith in your abilities honey. In case you forgot, you're pretty outstanding."

You brought a hand up to run through his hair. It amazed you that it always still retained its softness even through the frizz. He loved when you would rub his head, so he curled up next to you, laying his head in your lap and staring up at you. His giant green eyes scanned over your face, as if trying to memorize every little detail.

"How the heck did I ever find someone as amazing as you?" He smiled, tracing his fingers along your arm.

You booped him on the nose. "You landed yourself right into my E.R."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you down for a quick kiss. "And I'm so glad I did."

You hummed in agreement and leaned back on the couch, shutting your eyes and relaxing for once. Of course the real world never stops, and so once again, your phone buzzed. You were hoping that one of your colleagues would get back with you about what's happening at the hospital. They've been reluctant to keep you updated while on your temporary leave. You were itching to get back to work.

"Izu," You nudged him. "Can you grab my phone?"

His eyes were shut, but he fumbled his hand around on the coffee table before he found it and handed it to you. Then he went back to snuggling in your lap, burying his face in your stomach. You absentmindedly played with his hair while you looked at your notifications. There were a few of them, all from that same blogger. The first one's subject line read; For your viewing pleasure. You clicked it and an image popped up.

"Oh my god!" You dropped the phone in your shock, straight onto Izuku's face.

He bolted up, rubbing the spot where the phone landed. "What?"

You blinked, staring at your phone, now lying facedown on the couch.

He grabbed it and turned it over. "Who sent this?" He asked in quiet disbelief.

"I don't know," you sat up straighter, "some blogger."

The email contained only pictures. A lot of them. They were all from the Hashira crime scene, except these weren't from some forensic photographer. These were taken while some of the members were still alive, taken by the killer. Now, you'd seen your fair share of bloody scenes at work, but nothing so brutal and....personal before. You could hardly stand to look at them, but one thing that you did focus on was one common element in all of the pictures, all the victims were being done up in Deku attire.

The phone buzzed again, with another email. Izuku opened it up this time. There were no pictures, just a short, simple message.

Change is happening. Get ready.

.

Ground Zero bit his tongue as he listened to another dumb story Red Riot was telling. He was half tempted to mute the comms, but that could jeopardize the stakeout. He hated stakeouts to begin with, but he absolutely loathed stakeouts with other people. Red Riot was a people person and Ground Zero was, to put it simply, not. So two hours in, he was ready to blow up the entire block.

"Anyway," Red Riot went on. "So now my foot's suck in there right? Kaminari's short-circuited and I still got half a pie left," He cracked up. "So then-"

"Shut up!" He finally exploded. "We're supposed to be quiet and I can't take any more of your shitty stories!"

"Ah, your just mad cause you weren't there." He said through the communicator.

Ground Zero grit his teeth and put his hand up to the comms, but forced himself to let it be. Instead, he focused his attention on navigating the rooftop he was on. It was narrow and the gravel crunched softly under his feet as he made his way across. Once he got to the edge, the building offered a nice view of the district. Red Riot was a few blocks over slowly making his rounds.

He was sure this guy would show tonight. He'd been pretty consistent with his appearances. Not so smart when your running drugs, but helpful to the hero who has to catch him.

"You know, maybe if you actually came to our get-togethers, you wouldn't miss out so much," Red commented. "I know the gang would like to see you again."

Ground Zero rolled his eyes and glanced down at the street below him. The building he was on was almost twenty stories up. "I don't have time to mess around."

"Dude," He sighed. "You've been working this case non-stop. Why is this so important to you?"

Ground Zero leaped off the building over the almost 5-meter gap and landed neatly on the other side. "They're criminals. Isn't that reason enough?"

Red was hesitant. "Yeah, but it seems like lately...I don't know."

"Exactly." He retorted. "You don't know."

Ground Zero scanned the surrounding buildings. The night was clear and the moon shone brightly overhead. Even though it was nearly two in the morning, the city lights made it easy to navigate the maze of buildings. He still had to watch himself, the rooftops were still pretty dark.

He ended up at the edge of the building, ready to move onto the next when he saw a shift in the shadows on the next roof over. He watched the spot like a hawk until he saw the faintest of movements. A figure darted between air conditioning units and paused on the ledge of a building, turning to face Ground Zero. A slight glint of metallic shined off a mask in the moonlight.

"He's here." Ground Zero smirked. "86th and 7th, heading east."

"Copy that. I'm close."

Ground Zero took off with a running start to jump over the huge gap separating their buildings. The figure didn't run, which he thought was strange. He only stood there, watching him as he landed in a roll. It was only after Ground Zero stood up and they locked eyes, well eyes to creepy Kabuki mask, that he finally took off.

Kabuki leaped off the ledge, down onto a smaller building below. Ground Zero was hot on his tail, practically flying off the building in his excitement.

"Oh no you don't!" He said still sailing down towards him using his explosions to control his flight. "Ha! Got you now!"

He slammed down towards him and almost managed to hit him. Kabuki was slicker than he thought and barely dodged. He jumped over Ground Zero as he stood back up and landed behind him. This guy was moving around with such agility that every time Ground Zero tried to swing around and clip him, he was already behind him again.

He growled and shot out a huge blast, using the momentum to spread it completely around him in a circle. No way someone could avoid an attack like that. When the smoke cleared, Kabuki was already on the next building.

Ground Zero narrowed his eyes and jumped after him. He landed on the slanted roof, almost slipping as some of the loose tiles gave way. He launched himself into the air again, scanning the rooftops in search for him. It was hard to find him when he was wearing all black in the dead of night. After a few tense seconds, he spotted movements a few buildings over. Damn, he was fast.

"He's headed your way, get ready!" He yelled into the earpiece.

"I'm ready." Red Riot answered. "I think I see him!"

Ground Zero boosted himself towards the villain, coming up fast. As Kabuki prepared to jump off the edge, a flash of red tackled him from below and pushed him back onto the building. Red Riot landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

Ground Zero quickly caught up and stood over the two. Kabuki struggled for a moment before deflating, choosing to turn his head and look up at Ground Zero.

"Katsuki Bakugo." Kabuki's voice was distorted with electronics. "What a pleasure to see you again."

Ground Zero reached for his cuffs and restrained his wrists.

"Why so silent?" Kabuki asked as he was hauled up. "Could it be that you’re afraid?"

He ground his teeth as he tightened the cuffs. "Shut the fuck up psycho."

Kabuki cocked his head. "Or is it that you're afraid to hear the truth?"

"I wouldn't keep talking if I were you." Red Riot said, grabbing one of Kabuki's arms.

"Oh, I'm not here for you." A spike shot out from the folds of his clothes, straight into Red Riot's stomach. Red Riot tumbled backwards, his hardening quirk the only thing saving him from being impaled. "I'm not here for either of you. "A second spike shot at Ground Zero who was quick enough to dodge it, but he had to let go.

Kabuki used the opportunity to escape, running towards the edge, hands still cuffed behind him. His fingers found the metal of the cuffs and in an instant, they seemed to melt right off him, drooping into a shiny puddle on the roof.

Red Riot was slow to stand while Ground Zero raced for Kabuki. He fired off a dozen mini blasts, all scattering around him until one found home, slamming into Kabuki's mask just as he turned to look back. He lost his balance and tumbled off the building.

"Shit." He hissed and ran to the edge.

Luckily, there was a building below that caught Kabuki. He landed hard, a small impact in the loose gravel around him showed that much. He turned over and pushed himself up to his knees.

"I don't think so!" Ground Zero hopped over the edge and fell on top of him, pushing him back into the ground.

Kabuki groaned, which sounded weird coming through the electronic mask. He stilled again as the knee guard drove into his back. Kabuki grasped at the gravel, trying to find a hold to squeeze out of his position.

"Let's see who's under that mask." He reached for the mask, but as soon as his fingers touched it, the mask sparked, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm, numbing it.

Kabuki pushed him off in his moment of weakness and rolled to his feet, pulling out a sharp metal spear from somewhere in his robes.

"Come on then," Ground Zero stood, flexing his hand. "Let's see what you got!"

Kabuki stepped towards him, the spear moved so fast, that he couldn't even see it in the dim light. The only thing that stopped the spear from smacking him in the side of the head was his arm brace. The brace took the brunt of the impact, almost cracking in half from the sheer force of the swing. The spear disappeared, only to reappear on his other side. He blocked again, but rolled with the blow this time, lessening the damage.

Red Riot jumped down to join the fight, running straight for the man. Kabuki reached into his robe and threw out a dozen little daggers. Red Riot easily batted them to the side and continued to charge. Or they should have been swatted aside, but when he looked down, he saw the daggers had melted down and wrapped around his arms and chest. He suddenly lurched backwards, almost loosing his footing, as the metal crawled up his skin, towards his face.

"What the-" Red Riot shook his arms, trying to scrap the warped metal off. The metal had a mind of its own and with sudden force, manipulated his arms, trying to pull them behind him in a makeshift cuff. It took all of his strength to counter the metal. It looked as though he was struggling with an invisible enemy.

Ground Zero focused back on Kabuki, firing an explosion at him. Kabuki used the spear to jump above the blast and drop behind him. The spear jabbed at his back, but he was quicker this time. He leaned to the side just as the spear was about to pierce him and wrapped his arms around it. He used the momentum to twist it around, throwing Kabuki off his feet.

Ground Zero gripped the spear, ready to use it against his opponent when the metal started melting. He wasn't an idiot, he'd seen exactly what would happen. He let go before it could crawl up his hand and blasted it away for good measure. So metal manipulation was his quirk.

He was too focused on the spear, he didn't catch the dagger Kabuki had thrown. It struck him in the shoulder and he stumbled back. It was small, but twisted around as if it had a life of its own. He grabbed his shoulder, gasping as the dagger dug deeper. His shoulder screamed in pain and blood gushed from the wound as the thing tried to burrow straight through.

To manipulate something so small and precise, that took a great deal of skill and training. He wasn't dealing with an ordinary drug runner, although that didn't surprise him all that much. A person who could eliminate an entire gang alone wasn't someone to piss off. But if Ground Zero had a specialty, it was pissing people off.

"What?" Kabuki dusted off his coat. "Is that all you got?"

Ground Zero dug his fingers into the wound, searching until he found the tiny hilt and pulled it out. The thing was stubborn and seemed to grow thorns locking it in place, but he managed to rip it out of his shoulder with a sharp groan.

Red Riot was in a dilemma of his own. The metal was trying to crawl its way up his arms and around his neck. The only thing he could do was keep scraping it off, but it was like glue.

Ground Zero charged again, but Kabuki only pointed to Red Riot. "Ah, ah." He wagged his finger. "I wouldn't move if I were you. It doesn't take much to break a neck you know."

He faltered, warily eyeing Red Riot, who had sunk to his knees. This metal wasn't like ordinary metal. The one that found a home in his shoulder was heavy, much heavier than metal should have been. He was betting it was stronger too, probably strong enough to break through Red Riot's quirk.

"Let's have a chat, shall we?" Kabuki put his hands on his waist. "Now, as I recall, you're only the number two hero. What happened to your dream of being number one?"

"What does it matter to you?" He spat out.

"It matters very much to me." Kabuki put a hand on his chest. "Your dreams were crushed as soon as he entered the playing field. What right did he have to take away something you worked so hard for, something that would help society as a whole!"

"The only thing that's gonna be crushed is your head."

"You know as well as I do that he shouldn't have been given that power." Kabuki growled. "He should have never become a hero!"

The metal on Red Riot had wrapped around his throat and he clawed at it, but even his quirk couldn't hold out for long against it.

"What do you have against him?" He asked. "what did he do to you?"

Kabuki waved his hands. "You're nothing like Midoriya, are you?" He took a step closer. "Always one step behind him. Always second place."

He had to mentally tell himself not to react. He wanted a reaction out of him and that would just put Red Riot in danger. He might also be able to get some answers out of this guy, if he kept calm enough.

"You know it's the truth." He went on. "But I can change that. I can help you change that."

"What are you on about?"

"I know all about you too, Mr. Bakugo." Kabuki casually crossed his arms. "I know what your life should have been like. We're very similar, you and I."

"Like hell we are." He barked.

Kabuki shrugged. "Think on it." He slipped out a gun and aimed it at Ground Zero, who tensed up. "In the meantime, I think this will be a suitable test run."

He released the metal that flew back and sunk beneath his robes. Red Riot gasped and fell forward, taking in heavy breaths. In a slight move, Kabuki redirected the gun and fired at Red Riot. The bullet struck the ground just beneath his hunched form and exploded into a cloud of blue dust.

Ground Zero charged him again, but Kabuki used the metal to springboard him off the roof. He was about to jump after him, but Red Riot gagged on the dust as he tried to move away from it. The blue powder seemed to cling to his skin, coating him. He waved it away from his face, choking on whatever substance it was supposed to be. It was a loosing battle and he crumbled back to his knees.

Ground Zero glanced back to where Kabuki had jumped off too. He put him in a bind. "Fuck!" He turned back to his friend who was struggling to breathe on the ground.

Red Riot's eyes were darting everywhere as panic overtook his senses. If blue powder wasn't already covering his face, Ground Zero was sure, he was turning blue from lack of oxygen.

He searched through his belt for something, anything, that might help. All he had was water. He gave it to Red Riot who tried to swallow the water, but only ended up gagging on that too. He fell forward, Ground Zero catching him before his head hit the ground.

"Hey Red Idiot," Ground Zero gently laid him down. "Keep fucking breathing!"

Shit, this was not how this was supposed to go. He'd let Kabuki escape and his teammate get hurt.

Red Riot suddenly lurched forward, throwing up all that blue dust that clogged his throat and rolled to the side with a groan. His fingers were twitching and his face was pale underneath the dust. He looked so out of it, eyes staring right through Ground Zero, as if he wasn't even there. Something was definitely wrong.

"Hey Eijiro," Ground Zero grabbed his shoulder. "Look at me."

With a low groan, he pushed himself off the ground, shaking his head. He was breathing heavy and his arms were trembling, but at least he was getting back up. That was good, right?

"Hey-" Ground Zero was cut off by the sudden punch to the jaw and fell backwards.

Stunned, he blinked in surprise as Red Riot tackled him with a ferocious growl. The two rolled in the gravel until Ground Zero caught up with what was going on. He shoved his friend off him and jumped to his feet.

"What the fuck man!" He yelled, but Red Riot wasn't listening and charged again.

Ground Zero grabbed his head and arm, twisting downward and out, flipping him onto his back. Red Riot's face was bent into a permanent growl as he lashed out, swiping at Ground Zero's legs. He blasted him before picking him up by his shoulder straps and bringing him face level. When he looked into Red Riot's eyes, he saw almost completely black. His pupils were blown, which meant it was definitely some sort of drug at play. He was just hoping it wasn't the long lasting, damaging type.

"What the hell is wrong with you," He shook him. "Snap out of it!"

Red Riot held up his arm, trying to harden it, but only half of it worked. Two of his fingers hardened and half his forearm. He swiped down, slamming it into Ground Zero. He let go, letting Red Riot stumble backwards. His balance was off, he could hardly stand straight, and it didn't look like the light was really on in the attic. That didn't stop him from coming back for more.

"That's it!" He waited for Red Riot to come to him. He was a few feet away before he hit him with a huge blast. "Time for a nap!" He grabbed his head and slammed it into his knee guard so hard that the guard bent.

Red Riot's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped down. Ground Zero laid him out and cuffed his hands in front of him, just in case. He didn't want either of them to get hurt while he was acting like this.

Ground Zero stood up and glanced around, trying to see if Kabuki had stayed to watch the show. No doubt he did, but it wasn't like he could run off now to try and find the villain. That would be irresponsible and he was slightly worried about his teammate. He requested an ambulance through his earpiece as he inspected the area. Whatever was in that bullet had done this. He searched the ground for the capsule while he made a another call. He was met with a groggy hello on the other end.

"We need to talk," he said as he picked up the fragment of the bullet.

Tag List @miriobaby @awilddreamerwrites @hmm-cats @thecindy @sailorstupidsblog @kehlaniwwe @kenmaskitten10 @slytherintothedms

...

Chapter 5

if you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know Loves!

#izuku x reader #pro hero Deku #mha #bnha #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x y/n #taken series #pro hero bakugo #pro hero kirishima #violence #language #blood #katsuki bakugo #Kirishima Eijirou #pro hero uraraka #pro hero momo #Inko Midoriya #boku no hero academia #kabuki #experimenting with dividers #i dont think I'll keep them hmm

[a-mended-pact]

Unsteady Keys: Chapter Four

🦇 Author's notes: Hey so I originally was probably gonna stop posting this series until I got much further but I decided to throw caution to the wind and post it anyway.

⚠️ Warning : this chapter contains smut! MINORS DNI. If their are anymore besides for basic criminal minds based stuff let me know! ⚠️

✒: Word count: 2,259

Part 5

Request are open! 💌

I was enveloped in the smell of spice and cedar with the faint scent of amber. The warmth of his jacket seeped into my skin as if it being draped over me would keep me here longer. How I missed being this young and carefree. Times were so much simpler here. I was naive to believe I could still have this innocence of what I thought my life would be like. I had plans, plans with him. If I remember correctly today was our first official date together. I couldn't help but laugh at the thought. I could feel my nervousness getting the better of me already as if I hadn’t already lived through these moments countless times before. 

I ran through the courtyard, the sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet was music to my ears. The happiness I felt at the thought of seeing him all dressed up for me again was everything. The only time I was ever this excited to see someone was when I saw my wife in her beautiful wedding gown for the first time. She looked like a goddess but he was a god that chose to grace me with his presence only when I craved for him. 

I finally reached him with a happy giggle. I was so excited to see him and to be close to him. What I felt was mind numbing happiness. It was ridiculous how badly I wanted to go back to this time. I hadn’t been tainted by my mother's illness getting worse nor have I seen the horrors of my job. I haven’t had the drug induced nightmares yet. I haven’t even felt what it was like to be imprisoned both physically and mentally yet. I missed this. 

His hand grabbed mine as a smile passed his lips. ‘Are you ready for our first official date Reid?’ I nodded eagerly. I knew this wasn’t real but I didn’t care. I wanted to be here forever. Perhaps I was just romanticizing all of this more than I should.  Him and I weren’t necessarily always level headed with one another. We often fought against one another in tournaments. When I went against him he would always show bitterness towards me. As if it was my fault I had an eidetic memory and he didn’t. 

We were friends though. We did get along in a lot of ways. We were always eager to learn more about anything and everything together so when one of us would find out something new we just had to tell the other immediately. We would constantly discuss our thoughts on books. I was always so eager to know how he viewed things. Even if I didn’t see the same things the way he did. 

He intrigued my mind to no end and that’s probably how I ended up here trying to see if I could see a whole different side of him than I ever have before. My lips were swollen from how long we were kissing on his bed. His hands cupping my face pulled me closer to him if that were even possible. He tasted of buttered popcorn and cheerwine from our movie date earlier. I never wanted this kiss to stop. His tongue grazed my bottom lip and I opened my mouth to allow better access. Who would have thought my first kiss with him would be a french kiss. 

His other hand ran up my stomach underneath my sweater. To think I could get so turned on by a man was odd to me. Then again I never really cared. If I liked you, I liked you. I didn’t think it mattered what was between your legs. I was attracted to your mind. The mind was always such an intoxicating thing to me. A moan passed my lips as he moved his to my neck suckuling bruises into me as if there wasn't evidence that he had me on my back underneath him aching to be touched wherever he was willing to give me. My head shot back and my back arched up as he caressed me through my tightening jeans. A chuckle escaped him as he looked down at me. His brown eyes looked nearly black with his pupils blown so wide. ‘Who would have thought I’d have you under me like this on our first date Spencer?’ I moaned as his hand cupped the side of my neck making me keep my gaze on him. The sound of my first name on his lips drove me wild. He so rarely called me Spencer. He only did when he knew it would drive me crazy.

His lips slammed against mine in haste when did my sweater end up on the floor? God. Who truly cared. My mouth was watering at the sight of him taking off his slacks. I moved off the bed quickly just so I could be on my knees as he took off the rest of his bottom garments. Something about the way I knew I caused him being this turned on made me dizzy. I wanted to taste him. I just wanted him. I didn’t really care how. I leaned forward bringing my hands up to his thighs as he looked down on me. His cheeks were flushed as a smile formed on his lips. ‘I always mistook you for an asexual Reid. I never imagined you’d be on your knees drooling over my cock.’

He was teasing me and I didn’t care because it was true. I was in fact drooling. In response to his tease I kissed the tip of him before I whirled my tongue around him. I  couldn’t help but watch him as his head fell down to gaze at me. His hand found it’s way into my hair. Fuck. If he could look at me like this forever. I’d gladly stay on my knees for him. I drew him into my mouth deeper still, swirling my tongue around on him before I gently sucked in my cheeks. 

His moaning was intoxicating every time I made the smallest amount of movement he gave me his sweetest sounds. I couldn’t help but moan around him as his fingers entangled in my hair to hold my head steady as he started thrusting softly. He was being gentle enough to not hit the back of my throat even though he could easily if he moved just the slightest bit more. I was okay with it for a while until I noticed he was holding himself back and that’s when I put my hands on the back of his thighs and pulled him in deeper forcing me to take him in as deep as I could. I had to remind myself to relax my throat and to breathe through my nose. 

 

I thought the sounds he was making before were enough to get the better of me. That was a lie. The ones he made as I let him continuously thrust into my throat were better than anything I could have ever imagined. I was so grateful I had an eidetic memory. I would forever pull this one from the back of my mind. He was so lost in me as he came down my throat. Tears were leaking down my face as I looked up at him, my nails clawing gently at his thighs as I relaxed myself back onto my heels. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue drool dripping down my chin as I showed him I had swallowed everything he had given me. 

He pulled me up kissing me aggressively, his tongue slipping into my awaiting mouth. As he started stripping me of my clothing, throwing me down on his bed once he was done. ‘You did such a great job for me Spencer. Time for me to make you feel what you made me feel.’ His mouth sunk down on me quickly making me hit the back of his throat immediately he wasn’t wasting any time. A whimper left me as one hand rushed to his hair and the other covering my mouth. I was always so sensitive. I didn’t know how to be quiet even when I pleasured myself to the thought of him doing exactly this to me.  ‘Fuck!’ My back arched off the bed every time he bobbed his head up and down on me, hollowing out his cheeks with each upperward movement until I eventually heard a ‘pop’ his mouth coming off of my cock. As he licked up the underside. 'Jeez Reid I don't think I've heard you cuss before. How sexy.' As soon as he finished he sucked on the tip on my cock and I swear I saw stars. How could someone be so good with their mouth? I felt a tightening in my abdomen. My back arching up. 'P--please I. Oh god. Don't.  Please. Fuck.' I couldn't form a proper sentence as he forced me deep into his throat and clawed his hands down my stomach. I started cumming moaning his name.

'Ethan. Oh fuck.' My voice was low and quiet, maybe he didn't hear me. Maybe. That was a stupid thought. I knew he was watching me. He always was when we were alone together. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. 

'I know that look Spencer, I know what you were thinking about. Even after all these years I still know you so well.' I looked up at him breathlessly.  He looked so different compared to how he looked then. 'Do you ever miss us?' He asked as he swirled the knife on the wooden table where he sat to the right of me. 

'I would be lying if I said I didn't Ethan. You know that.' It broke my heart seeing where we had both ended up. I knew him being like this wasn't his fault. It was Cat's. I just had to figure out how deep the wounds were that she caused to the man I loved so deeply.  

'If that were true then why did you marry her?' I could hear the sadness in his voice. The worst thing was seeing the tears stream down his face.  Even though I was supposed to be afraid of my capturer, all I wanted to do was comfort him. 

'You and I grew apart. We didn't talk for years. You were busy with your music career and I was busy with the bau. Then Y/N came into my life and she made me feel things the same way you used to. She challenges me, she pushes me to be a better version of myself. In a lot of ways she reminds me of you. Which is probably one of the reasons I fell for her so quickly.' Tears were in my eyes as I felt him unhook my cuffs and rub his hands against the scuff marks on my wrists. 

'It was never in my intention to kidnap you or to do any of this Spencer. ' He sounded so broken. The sound of my name coming from him made me shudder.  'I just wanted you to know I didn't kill any of them. I abducted them but I didn't actually kill them. At least I don't remember doing it.' I tilted my head to the side. I was weary of the fact that he might be playing a mind game. Something about the way he was watching me as he unhooked me made me want to trust in him as if he didn't burn me and cut me with the very blade he probably used on the female victims.

I was careful not to say anything I shouldn't but I knew I needed to be as honest with him as I possibly could. I stayed seated even though he had unhooked me completely.  'If you didn't kill or hurt the victims Ethan then why do they look like Y/N? You were at my wedding when you two first met. You were the only one out of you and Cat that knew what she looked like.'

He sighed and sat on the floor in front of me sobbing as he laid his head into my lap. 'I was told that if I didn't do what she asked she was gonna hurt you. I didn't want that. I tried to tell you. I tried many times.' He was clinging to me as my hands moved to rest in his hair. He was a victim of Cat Adam's just like I had been with the whole Mr. Scratch ordeal. 

'Ethan, what did she do to make you submit to her so easily? Threatening just me couldn't have made you agree.' My fingers twitched in his hair. I wanted to comfort him but now wasn't the time. I couldn't let my emotions for him cloud my better judgment.

He looked up at me and then looked down. 'She kept finding me. Everywhere I moved. No matter where I went there she was with another letter in my mailbox. I ignored them at first. Until she started sending me photos of you. You weren't aware of them. You looked high as hell. Completely gone. You were naked and covered in blood with a dead woman lying beside you.' 

My back stiffened. Lindsey Vaughn. It all made sense now. 

'I knew you'd never kill someone, you just don't have that type of viciousness in you. The photos were still being sent until I did what she asked.'

Taglist:

@sassymoon @rainsong01 @onlyhereforthefanfics @itsdars

#unsteady keys #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction

[tcheschirewrites]

Hey, are you participating in NaNoWriMo? Have you ever? And what was your experience like? I'm considering it but I feel so intimidated because I know I won't be able to commit to it wholeheartedly. Lowering my expectations and pacing myself would seem like the perfect solution but work kills my creative brain cells by the seconds. I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of November I've only written half of page of alien language. Any advice? Also does Nano have to be a new project?

Oh man, Nano. I’m well familiar with Nano, and I’ve participated a few times (to varying degrees of success). This got very long, so I’m putting a cut.

The first time I attempted Nano was in 2006 for my novel Seerking. I had heard about it from a friend who was in an LJRP I was in, and she encouraged me to try it. I was still in high school at the time, and very frankly I did not have the dedication necessary to complete it. I got a lot of worldbuilding complete, but very little writing. I got about two pages of prose, and three notebooks of character and setting history, as well as a fairly detailed outline. I still have all of this.

The second time I attempted was in 2009, for a story that is based heavily on the Iron&Wine song ‘Boy With a Coin’. I got a little bit further, but I got stuck in a few places. I think it’s because my idea was bigger than my life experience, and I also got stuck in a lot of small details. Additionally, my first Word document (where I got about two chapters in?) was destroyed when my laptop’s hard drive just straight gave up on life - I did buck up and rewrite quite a bit, though it didn’t sing quite the same notes, and I have this handwritten copy still. (It’s possible I tried again with this same project the year after? I don’t remember tbvh)

My third attempt was in 2011, about a goverment operative and a faun. This one I got the furthest, and I still have the original handwritten draft and the typed copy. I pantsed this one, 100%. To this day, I still don’t know how this story ends, but I’d love to attempt a rewrite someday.

Then, unfortunately, from around 2012 until Fall of last year, I stopped writing period. I was in a real bad situation, and just didn’t have the energy for anything, let alone a novel. My most recent experience with Nano as an organization was Camp Nano, which is a much looser structure, and it is in May and July. Rather than the hard and fast 50k, you set your own goal when you announce your project.

I can understand your hesitance to participate, honestly. Nano is a beast of a project – to reach the minimum goal of 50k in the 30 allotted days, you have to produce 1667 words of new content every single day. This is approximately 3 pages, maybe a little more – which is a lot when you’re already stressed! And if you miss a day you have to adjust your daily totals for every following day, and the pressure starts to mount! It’s a lot, even if it is only meant to be a neat little challenge (mostly, I’ll cover benefits a bit later).

Now, my recommendations are going to follow two paths: planning, and pantsing. If you are naturally a planner – that is, you like having rough outlines, refined outlines, you like having character data, history, etc – then I recommend you have as much of your novel planned ahead of time before November 1st hits. Whatever notes or files you need to have set aside before you begin writing those first words, have them ready – read over them, refine them, and have them memorized front to back so that you know what your story is meant to be. If you are a natural planner, and you have not done this by today’s date (it’s 30 October where I am), then I do not recommend participating this year because it will stress you the fuck out and you might even make yourself sick.

The other popular option is called pantsing – essentially, you have a rough idea, and you’re flying by the seat of your pants. (This is literally what it is called on the Nano website, by the by – there are badges for it and everything.) If you are a pantser, then I still recommend a little preparation, but of a wildly different degree and type: find your story’s ambiance. If you are a pantser, think about what sparked the idea for your story? Try to put yourself back in the place (emotionally or physically) where you had the most intense version of the idea, and hang onto that feeling with both hands. This is incredibly important, because it will allow you to harken back to that feeling without chasing the high of first being hit by that feeling. If you are a pantser, focus heavily on the feelings you want to evoke with your story, and let your heart guide you.

Now the third option (I know what I said, I lied all right) is if you are a combination planner-pantser; you don’t want to have the rigidity of the outline, but you also like having a little bit of structure, or at least a direction to go in. If you are a combination planner-pantser, I recommend doing very soft preparation for yourself in the week leading up to Nano. So things like building yourself a playlist, maybe doodle what your main looks like in your head, or small details like character names and short dossiers. If you’re able, I recommend coming up with an ending, so you know what the end-goal looks like and you are able to track your story’s completion in your head.

For all three, I would recommend deciding ahead of time how you want to write your novel – are you going to type it up in a word processor (please make so many backups, do not live the heartache that I had to)? Are you going old school and hand writing it? Are you feeling like a boss that day and maybe want to dictate it into an app on your phone? Pick one, and make a dedicated space for your novel. You can mix them up, certainly, but make sure that you are able to consolidate effectively or you’re going to stress yourself out.

Now, you asked whether or not it has to be a “new” project. There are actually a few answers to this, depending on what you mean. Now, if we are to assume that “new” strictly means a brand new, fresh idea that you have just come up with specifically for National Novel Writer’s Month 2020, then the answer is no; it does not. Back in the day, there were a few purists that insisted you had to have a designated project every year, but like most purists, they’re just being assholes about it.

As a matter of fact, it does not even have to be a brand new project that you have not written any words for at all – however, if you do have an idea that you have already written for, you are not permitted to use any of your previous word count toward your goal. This is definitely a no-no. Personally, I’ve tried this, and I found it rough – I liked having the designated project, and I liked the buildup to it.

If you have, though, an idea that you’ve worked over and you are simply ready to start putting words on a page, this, I think, is Nano’s sweet spot.

Now, I know most of this 1000+ answer has been cautioning and reminders that Nano is tough – because, well, it is. It is a huge undertaking, and I feel like every participant has their horror stories to tell about their experience. But I want to reassure you that it isn’t 100% a hard slog to a dreary end; there are so many tools that Nano themselves provide you, as well as user-run communities and workshops, and even some benefits after the fact. These are the things I want to wrap this post up with.

Firstly, no matter how tired or stressed you are, if you register for nanowrimo.org, you’ll begin receiving daily emails from published authors and past participants. These range from silly and tedious, to incredibly comforting. My favorite one, which I cannot remember a lot of specifics from, was from a man who detailed his experience and reassured everyone that the work doesn’t have to be good – it just has to be 50k words. That’s it. You can have typos and errors all over the place, plot holes of all shapes and sizes, and a main character who doesn’t make any sense at all; it doesn’t matter, because the point of the event is simply to finish. Neil Gaiman has also said a time or two that your first draft’s only purpose is to exist. Just get the words out; you can fix them later.

Additionally, when you are completing your profile, you can enter in your location and there are designated forums for participants in your area. In the past, there have been meetups for group-writes and workshops as well, though I imagine they will be more along the lines of Discord calls this year. If you are a social person who needs a pair of eyes to help you work through a scene, Nano’s got your back. They will also send you statistics for your area for the average word count, daily word count, past winners, etcetera. It can sometimes feel like you are very alone during this difficult project, but a lot of these things bring a very human element to the event.

Finally, what comes after you have completed. A lot of these benefits are newer than my time, but I browsed through them when I did my Camp Project. When you complete the goal in the allotted time, you get a neat little badge for your webpage and a printable certificate for the immediate boost of dopamine. But you will also get discounts to some neat shit, like different word processing applications (I got 50% off of Scrivener when I finished Camp), as well as things like The Great Courses, discounts in the swag store, etc. But more than that, there are partnering websites who want to help you on the road to being published. Wattpad is in this group, but I believe also big name publishers (I might have seen Penguin on there at one point) are willing to work with winners to get their works distributed.

All that said, I recommend every writer attempt Nano at least once in their writing career. Even if I personally have not done so stellar in the past, it is a fantastic learning experience for all of the work that goes into producing a novel from start to finish – it forces you to know your limits, and sometimes to overcome them. I don’t think I will be participating this year – I have so many side projects that I want to get done, but I will very likely drop everything to do it next year. I have two novels that are real roughly built up that I could do for this, though, and I would love the dedicated time to spend on them.

#asked and answered jim #red-write-district #writeblr #writing advice #nanowrimo #i'm actually really fond of every nano project i've ever done #even if i didn't finish any of them #i still go back and read them sometimes #and i still have a lot of like plot details in my head for them

[frankiefellinlove]

Bruce's eulogy for the BIG MAN:

I've been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there. It's a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes. As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I'm pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.´´

´´Those of us who shared Clarence's life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C's qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend. Clarence's unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress. "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went A… B…. C…. D. It was always A… J…. C…. Z… Q… I….! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.´´

´´It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons. Tina, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him. Victoria, you've been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C's" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence's heart, in the Temple of Soul.´´

´´So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we'd pull up to the evening's lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic, night after night. Clarence's ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible. By 69, he'd had a good run, because he'd already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C's suitcase. As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man's world. I'd wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple's wonders was a lovely thing.´´

´´As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man… no surprise. To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard. And… to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy's eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure. So… Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence's suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in dad's van and opted for "C's" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn't do, and he'd saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.´´

´´Of course, also enchanted was Sam's dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend. Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you. Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some funny way we became each other's protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn't so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence's celebrity and size did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn't always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I'd written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that's what I'm gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that's just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it… it's the New World.´´

´´Clarence doesn't leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.´´

´´So, I'll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell… and that he gave to you… is gonna carry on. I'm no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god's work… work that's still unfinished. So I won't say goodbye to my brother, I'll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done.´´

´´Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the miracle… and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.´´

´´SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN… ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE'S DEAD… YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN'T! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU'VE EVER SEEN!… GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E. WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! … amen.´´

´´I'm gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we'd shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big."´´

´´Love you, "C".´´

[redspecialstardust]

Scandal - Oneshot (Freddie Mercury X Fem!Reader)

Requested by: @capan-devereaux

One month after the incident at the Rainbow Theater, you and now Freddie fall victim to bad press; there's gotta be a way to put these rumors to rest...

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: language, rumours, unwanted touching, attempted sexual assault (it doesn't go anywhere)

A/N: This fic is a sequel to Always Look After You; read it here. Can be read as OG Freddie or the BoRap version.

Freddie woke to himself facedown in the sheets of his king sized bed; the scent of the fresh bedding filled his nostrils, giving him sort of a gentle waking as he snuggled down into the mattress some more and forced his heavy eyes open to check the bedside clock which read 7:30 am. The time made him groan...for a party animal like himself, it was way too early for him to get up. The bed was warm, and so were the sunrise's rays on his back. You must have opened the curtains before he woke. but tired or not, he didn't want to sleep all day, knowing you two would barely get any alone time.

Choosing that there was no point sleeping in when he didn't have you next to him, the tired singer dragged his ass out of bed and threw on one of his many silk kimono robes. He let you know he was up by letting out a loud yawn on his way down the stairs. Just as he thought, you were sitting at the dining table with a newspaper one hand and a croissant in the other. Upon hearing your boyfriend's unsubtle yawn, you grabbed the coffee pot next to you and poured him a cup, preparing it just the way he liked it. Freddie entered the room still dazed from sleep but woke a bit more upon seeing you. Just like him, you were wearing a robe and had some pretty good bedhead going. The table had a couple of food trays with some eggs, croissants and fruit on them. He crossed the room and kissed the top of your head before sitting next to you.

"Good morning, Darling."

"Morning, Fred. How'd you sleep?"

"Like a drunken barfly, how about you?" He asked, placing some fruit on his plate.

"Eh. Same old same old." You responded. That could only mean that it wasn't very restful. Freddie always worried when you said that. This past month had been tough for you both, and the reason why was plastered all over the front page of the paper. Today's headline read: "Mercury & (L/N): Canoodling Cahoots?" Once again, the media was all over the Rainbow Theater incident and had been ever since that conference where your stalker had appeared at and made an enormous scene. To make things worse, Freddie was being dragged in on it too.

The same day of the conference, he released a photo of the injuries you received from trying to escape the perv's grip. It was a simple Polaroid taken an hour after the attack and displayed your arm with small, but deep scratches where you'd been grabbed. At first it seemed like you were in the clear, but as usual, people were looking for any way to create more gossip. Now all the papers were saying that you and Freddie staged the photo and he was just trying to cover for you since he was your boyfriend.

Oh yeah, and somehow news got out you two were dating. The stress seemed to be eating at you more than anyone a part of Queen. Over time Freddie noticed you were sleeping less and eating like a bird. Even with you being the first one up, he saw the fatigue on your complexion and ridiculously small amount of food on your plate; if you could even call it that...a croissant and a teacup of coffee? That wouldn't satisfy anybody.

"Dear, would you please put at least a couple of eggs on your plate? You're getting slimmer."

"What's wrong with slimming down?" You asked, not even looking up from the paper.

He was very frustrated lately. Sometimes he ended up saying things that were very insensitive.

"You know full well you don't need to lose weight. And for goodness' sake, why do you keep reading the papers? You know they aren't going to say anything nice. You're starting to look like a creature Edgar Allen Poe created!"

You threw the paper down on the table, frustrated that another fight about the headlines was starting up again. On and off for the past four weeks, you and Freddie were getting into heated arguments over what the hell you were supposed to do about the situation. You suggested moving a way for a bit, but Freddie said that would only be letting the gossip win.

"I know! I'm sorry! I just...I know they're saying bad things, but I can't ignore it. It's too much. Freddie, we were supposed to be happy together, not be harrassed by the paparazzi everytime we look at the TV or pick up the paper." By this point, your head fell into your hands and the small sharp pains of forming tears were hurting your eyes.

Oscar and Romeo were under the table the whole time and came to their mama's rescue upon hearing the sniffles. One purred around your ankle while the other gently pawed at your bare foot. Through the watery view of your eyes, you reached down and picked up Oscar, holding him firmly to your chest. The orange tabby purred in response. Freddie sighed; damn it, he went too far again didn't he? The frontman got up from his seat and stood you up, facing him with his gentle brown eyes locked onto yours.

"Come on." You snuggled into his side as his arm locked around your side and led you to the couch in the sitting room. Before even reaching the luxurious couch in front of the TV, you found him sweeping you up into his arms and carrying your frame bridal style. With the utmost care he placed you down on the sofa and sat down nearby, placing your head in his lap. Still sniffling, you looked up at him, muttering a thank you.

"Darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean those things, really I didn't. But I'm getting very worried about you. All the stress of these wrongful allegations are eating away at every level of health."

"I'm sorry too, Freddie." Breaking eye contact with him and staring ahead at the power off television screen across the room.

"For what?" He questioned, truly puzzled but his tone remaining calm.

"I've been so selfish. This whole time, I've done nothing but worry about what everyone's saying about me and I didn't stop to think about how hard this had been for you and the band or their families. I mean, maybe I am a selfish bitch like the papers are saying..."

There was a frightening silence between you for like ten seconds. At first it seemed like he silently agreed with you, but without warning, he quickly sat you up, making you gasp a bit and then pulled you onto his lap in a sitting position. The movement had been so swift, you were looking into his eyes for 3 seconds before it clicked what happened.

"Look at me." He firmly commanded. "Are you even hearing yourself? You're letting them get to you. This was not your fault. It never was. Yes, the reporters are saying awful things about me and the boys too, but we can handle it; plus, we know that what you went through was terrifying and we don't blame you for pondering on it so much. (Y/N), we love you...I love you, and we'll get through this, okay?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged as tightly as possible without strangling him.

"Thank you Freddie. I love you so much."

He kissed your lips this time and suggested that you both just relax for now and watch TV today. Everyone needed a break during a time like this with the rumors practically suffocating Queen while they were trying to work so it seemed like keeping all the prejudice fans waiting for the next album was sufficient punishment for now. Feeling much better you crawled off of Freddie's lap and cuddled against his side, giving him permission to flick the television on. Channel after channel it seemed like there wasn't anything that good on so he handed you to remote to keep clicking while he checked the TV guide. After only two clicks, you paused on the news, displaying yet another distressing headline:

"(Y/N) (L/N): Malice For Mercury?"

This was the worst one yet. The TV displayed a live report, with a journalist standing right outside Garden Lodge's gate, this time the theories had resorted to desperate measures saying that the only reason you claimed this man put his hands on you was to get attention from Freddie and that you were trying to ruin his career for him cheating on you. Cheating on you? Freddie hadn't left your side since you started dating last month. The news then showed video of Freddie walking home with his arm around some mystery woman that nobody recognized.

"BOLLOCKS!" Freddie hollered while jumping to his feet. Normally he would have kept his cool about something like this, but this so called mystery woman on the screen was his little sister, Kashmira. She came by every weekend to have dinner with Freddie and you; it was a very nice time to look forward to and the fact that they were using his sister's face as some shady floozy pissed both of you off beyond belief. Granted, the press didn't know much about Freddie's family because he liked to keep his family life private, but this was a new low. Sensing Freddie's rage beginning to boil, you turned off the TV and had took him gently by the arms.

"Freddie, sweetheart, you're shaking. I need you to calm down."

He looked ready to explode.

"They--they're attacking my blood now!"

"I know! I know honey." You pulled him in for a hug and rubbed his back. "Just please calm down; I don't want your blood getting up more over this, too." He wrapped his arms around you accepting the comfort you provided. You could feel his heart angrily pounding against his chest where the side of your face was resting.

They were really getting to him too and it broke your heart to see him upset because he had been trying his hardest to be strong for you and in between that it's like he forgot it was completely okay to be upset. No matter what either of you tried, you couldn't get away from the chaos of these made up stories. People swarmed you at the studio, they blindsided the guys at their houses, and just now, there were people hanging outside the gate, waiting to aggravate the victims of these rumors even more. By this point they had forced everyone in Queen to go into hiding, and all for ratings.

All day long, you and Freddie spent your time checking all the doors and windows in paranoia; the constant chatter of reporters and the innumerable amount of flashing cameras was extremely distressing, causing you two to finally head upstairs and stay there for the rest of the day and into the night. Things seemed to settle around midnight, and left you and Freddie lounging on the bed together finally getting some quiet time. Lying on your sides, heads resting in your hands, you found it so much easier to talk about all this crap in the peace of each other's space.

"What are we gonna do, Fred? It won't stop."

"It will darling, trust me. We just need to wait this out and they'll get bored."

"We can't just hide until it's over with, we're not living anymore."

He sighed. You were right, but he just didn't know what to do anymore to make it better.

"I wish I could just say what happened and have them believe us." He said. The sweet gesture made you reach your hand across the space between you and stroke his charcoal black hair. The texture was soft to the touch and very soothing under your fingers. Freddie adored the attention and pulled you into his chest where he held you tighter than a child would hold a stuffed animal and muttered into your hair.

"If only they knew that man's true nature. For goodness' sake, they saw it at the conference."

That's when a light went off over your head. An idea came with just that little statement. An idea on how you were going to get your lives back.

"Freddie, you're a genius."

Two days later, every television in England was broadcasting one of its most interesting stories yet: Freddie Mercury and his girlfriend were willing to invite the alleged attacker to Garden Lodge for afternoon tea in an attempt to patch things over and move on with your lives. The day the announcement was made, you and Freddie had braved going outside for the first time in a while and were being interviewed in the inside of a downtown theater. As usual, many questions were being thrown at the both of you about the situation.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Will you be friends with this guy afterwards?"

"Who do you think will apologize first?"

The whole time the questions flew, Freddie protectively kept his hand on yours. He wanted you to know it was all going to be okay, and you knew it was too, since your plan was bound to work if this guy was really as sick as he let on that night. Once in a while when responding to questions you two found yourselves glancing at one another to confirm whether your responses or not would be adequate. Freddie said that the change of heart came from the fatigue of feeling the need to hide and that a friendship with the man was uncertain. As for who would apologize first, it took some pride swallowing, but you managed to push out "I will."

Hours later, countless reporters were once again camped outside the mansion and kept every camera rolling for this groundbreaking story. Your pervert arrived on the dot for tea and used the doorbell on the door's exterior. The bell's ringing echoed through the manor and made you shiver at the idea of him being right outside. This same guy who left scratches on your arm was about to walk into yours and Freddie's home.

"Just breathe, Darling; your plan is gonna work."

"It better." You sighed.

Opening the door, you caught sight of his eyes. They seemed friendly enough, but nevertheless had this darkness lurking behind them.

"Derek, hi! Come on in."

"Thanks." He said, still seeming kind.

You and Freddie shook his hand and led him into one of the nicer sunlit rooms that normally wasn't used for tea unless you were having a guest. Compared to the rest of the rooms, it was a moderate, even small size. In the center of the room sat a coffee table decked with all the proper items to have at tea. A delicate white teapot painted in yellow and white with matching cups were placed properly there along with classic tea cakes and finger sandwiches. Either side of the table ends had a small couch pushed closely enough for anyone to reach over and grab what they needed off the table while sitting. Freddie shared one of the couches with you while Derek sat on the other. It only took staring at him again for a moment before you realized your breathing was becoming a bit laboured from your nerves causing a faster pulse; this was happening? This trash was in the house? But, still trying to be a gracious host, you picked up the pot and began to pour a cup for all three of you. Watching the steam rise from the cup made you wanna remove the lid and splash the hot drink into his face, but it wasn't part of the plan, so best keep it under control. After pouring your cup and sitting beside Freddie once again, he thanked you and everyone began to add what they wanted to the cups: sugar, cream, lemon etc. All three finished at the same time and raised their cups in a cheers like fashion.

"To a fresh start." Freddie grinned.

"To a fresh start." You repeated, trying not to sounding nervous. Derek copied and you sipped in unison. For a few very uncomfortable minutes nobody said anything while enjoying the tea and snacks; you all knew nobody wanted him here, and the tension in this Mexican stalemate caused you to move in and say what you had to.

"Derek, um, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have attacked you like that; it was wrong to do something so awful to a fan of ours."

Ugh. That one hurt your pride.

"Thank you for that." Derek answered.

Freddie scooter close to you, placing his hand gently on your knee.

"I apologize too Derek. I shouldn't have used you as a punching bag. You see, when I thought that you had put your hands on her, it infuriated me and I was just trying to protect her. I'm sure you would have done the same for someone you care about."

"Well I can't blame you for that." Derek responded, smiling, but offered no apology himself. That's okay, you really didn't expect one. He took another sip of the tea and carefully placed it down. Something was definitely turning in his mind and none of it looked good.

"I'll accept your apology on one condtion: I want a quarter of a million dollars. It's the least you could do for compensation." The absolute balls! He knew none of this would be even happening if he didn't put his hands on you and now he wants a reward for getting his ass kicked? No, no way, you didn't care what happened after this, he wasn't getting a cent off either of you, but this could still work with what you had in mind.

You scoffed, jumping to your feet "I don't think so. We're trying to put this all behind us and then you come and pull this crap asking for money after leaving scratches on me and making our lives miserable? No! No you're not getting any money!"

Derek's face returned to that same vindictive grimace he had when he tried to throw himself at you, and it scared you to death. As he stood up too, Freddie instantly moved to protect you by standing as well and moving you behind him. He wasn't about to let someone punk him in his own house, no way! He didn't take bull.

"Fine. Don't gimme the money, I'll just go out and tell the reporters how much I tried to be friends and now the great Freddie Mercury and his slut are tightfisted with the compensation. You think your lives are bad now? Wait till the news gets ahold of this."

Freddie nearly lunged to attack, but you grabbed his shoulder, holding him back.

"Freddie, no! This isn't worth it. Just give him the money."

"But he--"

"Freddie please! I want our lives back."

It took a minute, but after looking between you and Derek, Freddie saw the fear in your eyes and it broke his heart. You shouldn't have to live in fear this way and he barely deserved you as it is. What the hell, money wasn't nearly as valuable as you. With a moment of his pride swallowed, he said he'd have to go all the way upstairs into the bedroom to get the checkbook. As he disappeared from the room, you gave Derek a bad staredown.

"So what's a perv like you gonna do with all that money?"

He shrugged. "Maybe buy you for the night." Rolling your eyes in disgust you let him know that was never gonna happen because he was an immature child; a man who threw a fit because he wasn't getting what he wanted, and then that's what set it off. He crossed the room getting right in your face.

"Fight all you want baby, I like it when they think they can get rid of me. I should left more than a few scratches on you; had it been just you and me, I would have treated you no differently than the floozies I pick up every Thursday." He grabbed both of your arms again, no not again! As soon as you hit the furniture, he pinned your arms down, to the sides and forced his lips onto yours. You tried to turn your head and struggle hard but he was so strong.

"Get off me!"

"Scream, and I'll kill Mr. Mustache. One way or another, I'm getting what I came for." He began to unzip your jacket but before anything else could happen, a gold flashy force knocked him off you and held him to the carpet. It was Queen's drummer Roger; he'd been hiding in a nearby closet, listening to everything so he could spring into action if anything went too far.

"Stay down, rapist! Did you get that, Deaky?"

To Derek's surprise, John Deacon the bassist popped out from behind a large potted tree in the corner of the room with a large camera in his grip. He signaled a yes, letting you all know they got everything they needed. Video was really all they needed to convict him, but to rub it in his face even more, you reached down your shirt and pulled out a wire, letting him know your bra had been bugged. That's right, you and the boys took two days planning this to catch Derek in the act and it worked perfectly. Almost on cue, Brian and Freddie escorted a group of officers into the room demanding they remove the root of all your problems.

The next day everyone in the band attended yet another conference to discuss everything and it was amazing; all the reporters who'd wrongfully accused you were now practically kissing your ass. There was nothing more satisfying than feeling this huge weight off your shoulders and the whole truth coming to light. Everyone in Queen received a formal apology from everybody and to even let you all know that Derek wasn't going to be even eligible for parole until he was 82. It's ok. By that time, every inmate would make him their girlfriend; no way he'd survive that.

"Freddie, with Derek finally behind bars and the your lives returning to normal, what's the first thing you're gonna do?"

Brian, Roger and John said they were just going to enjoy the peace with their wives an kids for now. They earned it after all, didn't they? As for Freddie, he took you in his arms, dipped your body, and left an enormous kiss on your lips. Upon standing you back in place, he said.

"I'm going to take the love of my life to Munich for a while. As happy as we are that everything is going back to normal, we haven't been able to just relax and laugh with each other since we started dating. Don't worry, the album will still be done on time. But for now, I just want it to be me and her. I love you with all my heart (Y/N) (L/N)."

"I love you too Freddie Mercury. Thank you so much for being there."

"I'll always look after you."

THE END

Thanks for checking this out! Find more from me on the Masterlist

#queen #queen band #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x reader #may 2019 #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #masterlist #m's stories

[relentlessministries]

Day Zero

I would venture to say you have no idea how your actions and words have infiltrated and impacted my life .  How your hatred continues to deliver slight yet direct blows with an attempt to utterly destroy me.  How your infectious plague has trickled down to sabotage every aspect of who I am, who I am yet to be and those lives which are directly and indirectly trussed to mine.  

You- homophobia are a disease. You infiltrate the minds of individuals and symptomatically cloud their view so their eyes can’t see humans as they are despite all other attributes but solely on the grounds of who they love. You take the lives of hundreds of thousands of people every year. Congratulations - You are an epidemic. You destroy families. You create homelessness and increase desperation leading to suicide after suicide after suicide and oh homicide. The greatest symptom of your debilitating affect is hate which grows unrestrained to convince one to murder another of our own kind merely for the minute factor that they love differently than you.  

Like the most aggressive form of cancer you are the cells that multiply out of control in the minds of so many.  Although I don’t know that there will ever be a cure for you, I know that my speaking out brings light into your terrifying darkness and a sword that will pierce hearts and open minds. The reality is my speaking is all but a mere effort to save my own life because It's time, I’ve had enough.

I've been lead to believe you've stolen my dignity and self respect. My integrity and professionalism, tenacity and ability to share with the world something good are tainted and greatly discolored by your rampant blows.  It has all been shattered by your darkness. You have crippled me and pushed me in to hiding.  I've become a person who's disability forces them to not leave the safety of my 4 bedroom walls. My anxiety and depression and post traumatic stress disorder, created by the assault you’ve had on my life holds me hostage in my car in moments when I’m supposed to be serving my patients and families. It holds me in the aisle at the grocery store because I know there’s someone infected with you on the other side who previously audibly accosted me in public.  

My joy has been diminished, my reflection in the mirror resembles a weak and weary soul who is desperate for freedom of oppression.  Perhaps it’s because you have taken from me literally everything and anything that I possess of any worth.  Through it all I am forced to realize what I have left.  Most of which is forever unrecoverable.  The patient experiences, the longevity necessary to build my career, the relentless attempts to leap forward and build again a life with hopes of building a meaningful legacy.

It's 2020, times have changed and our society is vastly attempting to eradicate you.  Yes I am aware, "we have come so far!," and I have heard countless comments about, "marriage is legal, you have your rights, what more do you need?," etc. I'm not convinced, I continue to survive your attacks and others need to abolish the blinders from their eyes and then encourage others to do the same so as to understand and trust that just as sexism, ageism, and racism to name a few are still globally viral, you homophobia and your horrific affects thereof continue to kill and destroy many.  How you might ask?  

Lets start with the time that you violently through the judge and our legal system took my children away from me for three months because you were convinced that my being gay must be a mental illness or life crisis.  The moment when I learned they were told I abandoned them and didn’t want them anymore because my sin was more important and my desire was to sleep with a woman.  When you diminished Who I am as a person, a mother down to only my sexual orientation.

That time that you walked into the trauma bay and recognized me from church and your loved one was barren on the table and I actively performing CPR on them.  I was literally the heart beating for him, I alone was circulating life through his lifeless body.  You refused to see me at all, only my sexual orientation.  Although I, one of the most trained trauma nurses in that room you began to scream in front of my peers for me to be removed from him and told me to step away and surrender my position and life saving efforts to a nurse who graduated just weeks prior with no experience.  

How about the time you took me in to your office and with cowardliness hid behind vague words and use of irrelevant rationales to inform me that my being a lesbian did not fit the culture of your practice, your values and beliefs system and therefore I was no longer welcomed to work next to you.  Interesting though the day prior, before you heard the news that I was married to a woman, you told me that I was one of the best nurses you'd hired with the most beautiful bedside manner you'd witnessed in years.

Or the latest attempted terminal blow when you suddenly ripped me from the bedside of the the most frail of patients, the dying.  Tragically eradicating and severing ties between myself as a hospice nurse from several patients and their grieving weary loved ones without an opportunity for closure.  You severed a bond and forced me to abandon my patients.  THEY WERE DYING and suddenly all the times I've cried with them, prayed with them, sang to and with them, bathed them and dressed them, listened to their greatest joys, deepest desires and fears have become tainted by your dark hostility.   Your a coward and quietly ashamed of your bias and You've covered yourself with deception claiming my nursing skills or abilities or boundaries were lacking or flawed thus directly deepening your diseased affects on my self view.  It became apparent that at any moment anything can be taken from me NOT because of my sexual orientation but due to your hate.  

Time and time again I've experienced this but now it has spread through me and into the lives of others.  You've raped me and have USED ME to spread your vile disease resulting in heightened doubt and fear.  I have  questioned to my very core who I am and who I once was down to my professional being. I've become desperately symptomatic of fear and one surviving your hold and retreat deeper into my self because I CANNOT allow myself to continue the vulnerability. I refrain to connecting with anyone because I must prevent bringing additional pain and suffering, undue harm especially to my patients who have invited me in to journey with them through one of the most intimate times of their lives, dying.  I've come to believe your lies that I had no business being there or being a part of this ministry, this profession any more.  

I will admit you have crippled me in so many ways. I am coming to understand why I suffer immensely at times with depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation. Why I'm living with post Traumatic stress disorder.  I've bought in.  I now see what others see when they look at me.  I believed your projection of who I am is in fact who I am. I have allowed you’re sick and disgusting view of me to shape me into this disabled body because I'm unable to get outside of my mind and the fear of facing another human who embodies you restrains me inside my own living hell. I am shattered and broken but make no mistake, I am still alive. 

Let me explain something to you. At the end of the day you can’t change my DNA. I'm not sure you heard or understood what I said, your efforts have failed because YOU CANNOT change my DNA.  You see my DNA and who I am is not in anyway just that I am a woman, an Italian, a lesbian. Its not merely that I have green eyes and sun-kissed skin tones. My very DNA structured my dignity. It carries my tenacity, my vulnerability, my personality which in case you missed the memo can outshine even the darkest of nights. My life experiences have groomed me into a survivor, a fierce survivor.  I will take every single integral microscopic cell that embodies who I am and with all that I am that is woven into my very DNA And I will defeat you.  I will grow stronger and brighter and I will be in this world what I am called to be because no matter how much you hate me and no matter how much you think you can destroy my life you can’t have it because it doesn’t belong to you!

You see I’m educated. I know how this works and I’ve seen life and death. I have experienced life and death. I am one of the best nurses you will ever meet and when given the chance I will show you a love and compassion that you quite possibly have never experienced before.  What’s more is that I’ve held the hand of more than one individual who’s attempted to take or did take their life because the darkness was too heavy and the light although you could not completely diminish it was no longer enough.   I refuse to fall victim to this.  

Homophobia - like cancer when all other treatments have been exhausted and they are no longer responding appropriately we take the frail human body down to the cellular level to the brink of death.  You’ve already done this for me. At that point stem cells are planted and those particles of DNA that are woven in us from the moment of conception take hold of them and start to grow something new.  Cells that were already created and a part of my DNA and you have no control or power over. Today is my stem cell transplant, it’s Day ZERO, and I will make every single effort to allow every particle of me to become who I am first and foremost above and around you regardless of your desire to put me in the grave.

So I want it back. I am taking my life back. Not the life that I am surviving right now but the one I was created to thrive in. The one where I am out in the community and serving and loving and showing Christ - like compassion and forgiveness and so much more. Yes you heard me right I am a lesbian who loves Jesus and I know that you homophobia would like the world to believe that this is a counter diction but it’s not. And you no longer have a place in my life and how I move forward living it. I will walk with my head high and no longer feel like I am a disgusting person or somehow a disgrace on this earth because of who I chose to marry and love.

Homophobia like one of the most infectious diseases known on earth is rampant and it’s time that we start exterminating it for the sake of all especially those who we love. I’m going to promise you this no one was born with a genetic condition of hatred. Its time we start vaccinating against it and raising up our children to love and embrace our fellow human beings despite their differences, despite their sexual orientation.  

Nevertheless, it’s in my DNA to tell you that I’m going to chose to love you, to forgive you and to have a greater hope for change in your hearts, your minds and your actions. If for nothing more but because my soul deserves peace.

Today is my Day Zero.

Relentlessly Yours,

Mrs. Tennille Marie Dobbs

#ellendegeneres #taylorswift #finally211

[janeaustentextposts]

Hi, I've just finished reading Persuasion for the first time, and wondered on your opinion of Lady Russell? I feel she has way to much influence over Anne, thoughts?

I think this is the most hotly contested question about Persuasion in modern perspectives, as well as people wanting to shake Anne in the end where she declares that she doesn’t think she did wrong by listening to Lady R. And (unpopular opinion, perhaps,) I think Anne is right. I trust her and where she’s coming from.

It’s easy enough to say from a modern reader’s perspective that Anne should have stuck by Wentworth and thumbed her nose at all the world for his sake, but that’s just not who she is, or was, at nineteen.

Compared to other Austen heroines in age, then, she would have been only older than Catherine Morland, Marianne Dashwood, and Fanny Price–and of those girls, she is the only one who lacks a mother. (Fanny’s isn’t exactly deeply involved in her life, but then Fanny is always forced to rely more on herself than the advice of those around her because those around her are terrible.)

Lady Russell is not a bad woman, and is not so much a snob that she would see Anne unhappy and alone forever. She is definitely set in place as a mother-figure to Anne, and does her best to give the best possible advice she can for the circumstances.

Consider that Anne and Wentworth’s initial romance was rather rapid, and that she was a very sheltered girl who likely hadn’t entirely processed her grief over her mother’s death and being sent away to a school where she was extremely unhappy. Like, Anne’s adolescence was extremely dark and isolating. She would have only returned home to her family in the last year or two, and Lady Russell’s fear is that Anne will too easily grow attached to anybody who shows her the least bit of kindness and regard. And given that Wentworth at the time has little money, a high risk of being killed in the course of his career, (and from what Lady R can tell, a rather impulsive character, which lends itself well to bravery but less so to staying alive and supporting a wife and family,) and knowing Sir Walter has a poor opinion of the match, what can Lady Russell imagine might be worse than that Anne (and Anne’s children, if she should have any,) might be made dependent upon Sir Walter if she should be widowed, or her husband injured and unable to provide a stable life (as we see has happened to the Harvilles.) Sir Walter’s whining remonstrances would be never-ending about the degradation Anne had brought upon herself and her family by such a connection, and home life at Kellynch would no doubt be worse than ever, and poor Anne sunk even more deeply into a level of grief from which she might never recover.

This, naturally, terrifies Lady Russell. Money and rank may mean little to Anne and Wentworth, but they mean a great deal to the people Anne would have to deal with if Wentworth is unable to provide properly for her.

For a vulnerable girl of nineteen, and a match so swift and reckless, Lady Russell would not be doing her duty as a mature woman with an eye on potential consequences if she didn’t say something to Anne. Anne loved Wentworth, yes–but Marianne loved Willoughby, too. Older women–women who have loved and lost–might understand better that it often does not do to place all one’s faith in a first romance…particularly when it’s a whirlwind.

Is Lady Russell ultimately correct? No, because we know Wentworth will do well in his career and that the love between him and Anne is steadfast. But hindsight and all that jazz. (“It was, perhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the event decides.”) Which is why Anne insists she didn’t do wrongly to listen to Lady Russell. She knew where Lady Russell was coming from. She knew Lady Russell wasn’t being malicious, and that Lady Russell was her nearest and dearest friend–likely dearer to her than any of her living family. She trusted Lady Russell, and she wasn’t wrong to trust her. The moral of the story isn’t “ignore anything you hear from concerned friends who have your best interests in mind”. People are flawed, and so is their advice. Lady Russell is wise about many things, but it just so happened that she wasn’t wise about Anne and Wentworth in this specific case–and none of them could have known that. Lady Russell expected that Anne would mix more in society, meet more people, and perhaps find happiness with another worthy person. (We must acknowledge that the world is not filled with men incapable of rising to the standard of Captain Wentworth.) This would have been the natural way of things, but, for one reason or another–all of them beyond Lady Russell’s control–this never happened. If Anne could have been happy with Charles Musgrove, Lady Russell would have been pleased to at least have Anne settled nearby, and with a ‘safe’ match to a good man, but it is noted that her influence can’t create enough affection where it does not exist. Anne is open to being cautioned, but not encouraged.

And though there’s a rush to condemn Anne and Lady Russell, consider how their conduct is tempered in Wentworth’s own declaration: “But I too have been thinking over the past, and a question has suggested itself, whether there may not have been one person more my enemy even than that lady? My own self.” Two years after the broken engagement, when he had enough money to offer a more stable living, and Anne had had time to consider that perhaps she’d been unwise to yield to Lady Russell’s advice in entirely giving up the engagement, he could have written to her and she would have renewed their engagement. Lady Russell’s advice and Anne’s acting on it caused them both a great deal of pain for two years, but Wentworth’s stubborn fit of pique prolongs it for six more years and possibly forever, until their paths cross again. The power of renewal is all his–Anne cannot reach out to him, even when she wishes she could.

In Persuasion, I think Anne does her best with what she has–which is so very little. Lady Russell’s advice fails her, but not Lady Russell herself, and it’s very much up to fate and chance unspooling over the course of years which prove Lady Russell’s cautions to have been in the wrong. While in Anne and Wentworth’s case we ultimately know that they’re meant to be together…perhaps the timing was just not right for them, before. They both had some growing up to do. There could be no guarantees. Wentworth resents that Anne is persuaded by Lady Russell’s advice, rather than his own–and while we can understand his feelings, consider if a teen girl’s mother today was like “…look, I know you’re in love for the first time, but honestly you can’t tell if these things are going to last, and I’m just not convinced he’s the best person for you, you’re so young and there’s so much more of life to see…” and then on the other side of it you’ve got the Boyfriend saying “what does your mother know? We’re in love, we should just be together and damn the consequences!”

Perhaps I’m getting unromantic in my dotage, but I feel that teen girls might do better to listen to their concerned mothers rather than their boyfriends.

Of course these folks exist in a book and all this stuff is water under the bridge before we even begin to know them, so we have the luxury of judging their past behaviour at our leisure rather than having to live through it, and live with it.

#Ask Me Anything Austen-Adjacent #AMAAA #Anonymous

[exowl]

hey it's me again :) i've never intended to make you feel unworthy bc it's not the case, you're one of the most chill people i've found here and that's why i thought it'd be fine to talk to you. i was just curious why people treat the idols as a 'boyfriend' or a 'husband', i find it quite interesting. it's normal to dream about your bias but to assume to be in any kind of relation with him is another thing. 1-

or, perhaps, they assume that a possible encounter at a concert or anywhere else will make him fall in love. I think love is not a matter of seconds but a matter of soul and we’re also free to think that maybe he already has some1 in his heart&mind. people usually tend to see ’signals’ in what he does so maybe there are, but not as everyone perceives them or not for who they think. if he would ’fall in love’ at a concert do you think he would leave that person to go without doing something?2-

ugh again me and my ’pleading’ lol you’re in your right to call me the annoying anon, i hope you’re not mad at me for asking, but from everyone i’ve seen being shipped with ksoo & with the same feelings as you describe him, you seem the most easy to talk to and outgoing so i thought it’d be cool to just ask. I apologize in advance if i did something wrong :/ 3-

1) I don’t think you are annoying, everyone is free to think and express what they want, of course respecting others.2)I do think there are limits and boundaries and pretending your idol is yours and no one else’s is something I find wrong. But again, people is free to do as they wish as long as they don’t hurt anyone or something.3) I don’t think anyone feels the same way. I’m not saying my feelings are ehhh harder or more pure or anything no. As similar as our feelings could be, each one of us feel different, each one of us have different concepts of love. And as similar as our feelings (this goes for anyone not just Ksoo stans) are, they are always different. This is why is hard to generalize, because we don’t know their stories, we don’t know the background, the roots, their thoughts. But yes, again, there are limits.4) If he has someone, I don’t think she/he would worry about stans you know? Unless he/she knows Ksoo could actually prefer that person, unless he/she feels that fan is a threat. Dating an idol is probably different than dating a “normal” person. Why? Because they are always in the spotlight, there will always be thousands that will want to be in the position their S/O is, there will always be people that will love him. And you can’t do anything about it but respect it. Again they are free to feel as they wish and just because he/She is in that special place, doesn’t mean it gives them the right to order others to stop feeling. If someone is getting in a relationship with an idol I think it’s important to know where they are standing, what they are getting themselves into and respect their idol boyfriend/girlfriend career. If you can’t live with this then what the fuck are you doing there, then That’s not love, that’s even more selfish than the fans thinking their idol is their boyfriend. Because you (not you, in general) are getting in the way of their dream. You can’t ask someone just to give up on their dream because you don’t like people daydreaming about your boyfriend. 5) again, we might have different concepts of love. People tend to not believe in love at first sight because.. hell, it happens once in a life time. But I have lived it (not with Ksoo if you are  wondering) and even if I did not know the guy I loved him. I got to know him later and that love got stronger. but that’s another story and what I felt for that guy was probably very different from what I feel for Ksoo. So.. love can happen in many different ways and also in the most strange ways. We simply don’t see it coming, even if you’ve been by that person’s side your whole life. It just comes one day, catches us off guard. So I do think that if Ksoo or any idol fall for some girl/boy in a concert (which is highly unlikely because honestly you see nothing from stage) or a fanmeeting or the streets, they would do something or they would live with that person’s memory. Because being in the spotlight is hard and going after a person with such pure intentions is probably even harder than it is for us mortals that aren’t famous.6) You didn’t make me feel unworthy. I do that on my own. I’ve always have, since the moment I realized I loved him. Probably even before that. Why? Because I know where I am standing. I know that I’m just a girl out of millions that feel something for him, I know he’s an idol surrounded by so many girls and boys, I know that for him to fall in love with me would require a miracle or something. Or maybe not a miracle but what we call fate, or a soul link, or whatever who knows. I do not think I have more opportunity than his other fans, I do not think he’s mine, I do not think he would even look at me. But again, I’m allowed to dream. And what I feel for him, again, is the most unselfish thing I have ever felt. I love him beyond words, I love him with my whole body, mind, heart and soul. Every fiber in my skin trembles just by the mention of his name. But I do not love him in a “crazy” way. I would never go stalk him, would never force him to love me, would never impose my feelings. The only thing I truly want is for him to smile and be happy. Again, even if it’s not with me. I’ve been feeling like this for years hun, and this is why I don’t take things lightly and go crazy, because time has given me “wisdom”, or however you would call it. Believe me when I say that I try everyday to forget what I feel for him, to get over it because… he’s an idol. But I can’t. The more I try the worse it becomes. The more I find myself loving him, even when I think it’s impossible to love him more than I do today. And again, I do not care who he is with, as long as he is happy. Even if I stay alone my whole life. And you know why? Because even without knowing he gave me love. I mean, thanks to him I lived love in my life, with my own flesh, I can say I found what we all wish to do in our lives. What some die, without even finding once in their lives. And I will always be grateful to him for that, for the experience I got to live thanks to him. Even after explaining this to you, I can say this is just the tip of the iceberg. Feelings are so complex and hard to explain and this is why I think everyone feels different, no matter how similar it is. There are so many things behind the words we say. Imagine you found two girls that wrote exactly the same thing about him. Like every word, every punctuation, everything is the same. I still think that even after saying the exact same thing, the feeling is different. Because no one has the same heart and same mind. I don’t think that even soulmates, if they exist, do. Fuck this was long sorry. Xo, Ara~