#in case you can't. it doesn't matter if you can't help through money or physical means

[90s-suplex]

Steve Austin but he’s your bimbo boyfriend :3

Hell yeah!! He is so himbo bf coded 🤠🤓 Here are some headcanons :)

SFW (and a few NSFW headcanons further down below <3)

Steve can't cook for shit 💔 he's perfectly fine living off of plain oatmeal (literally just microwaved oats and water, no fruits or anything) and eating beans straight out of the can. The best he can offer you is a sandwich - he'll cut the crust off for you. He makes up for his total lack of kitchen skills by driving across town to bring you your favorite takeout, no matter what time it is.

It doesn't matter how big the bed you two are sharing is - he'll find you in his sleep. You shift a little, roll a few inches away, and suddenly there's a warm hand sliding across the sheets, blindly searching for you, slurring, "...where the hell're goin' ?" He's gonna pull you right back onto his chest, wrapping one heavy arm around you and grunting "C'mere.... Jus' lemme hold ya..." before drifting right back to sleep....and then he snores in your ear 😭

His love language is physical touch and acts of service!!! He rarely says "I love you" out loud... It's not that he doesn't want to say it, those words just don't leave his lips easily. (The first time he says it, it slipped out by accident when he was drunk... 💔) Steve's equivalent to "I love you" is "I fixed your tires" 🤓 BUT that doesn't mean he won't compliment you! “Damn, you look real pretty today,” he'll mumble while staring at you and completely forgetting whatever he was about to do. Sometimes he says it with his mouth full while eating. Sometimes while handing you a sandwich. But it's always sincere :)

ALWAYS has his hand on your thigh while he drives and you sit next to him... and his hands are always SO warm.

If you're sick, sore or just not feeling your best, he's on it before you can say a word. The moment you try to get up, he's already mumbling, "Sit your ass down." And he doesn't care if you protest - he will scoop you up like it's nothing and carry you straight back to the couch or bed. "You ain't doin' shit today...," he mutters, before grabbing his keys and heading out. Comes back with tissues, meds, snacks... - everything you asked him for and more, just in case.

Steve hates spending money!! He waits for months to replace stuff until it's falling apart, he's hunting for discounts and he's always complaining about gas prices. But if you need something? He takes you straight to the mall (even though he hates malls) to make sure you'll get exactly what you're looking for. Oh, and if it's clothes? He's full on invested!! He's following you around the store, helping you pick stuff off the racks for you and somehow ends up in the dressing room with you, justifying it like, "I'm just tryna see what I'm payin' for...". After every outfit, he'll ask you to spin for him (slowly!!), while looking you up and down. "Fuckin' hell.... look at you. You like it?" "Yeah, but it's kinda pricey and-" He immediately cuts you off with a grunt! "Don't care. We're getting it." No discussion 😆AND he will return to the store the next day to get the same items in different colors!!

NSFW below the cut <3

Steve loves having you sit on his lap!! He might not look like it - but he is obsessed with kissing💔He could (and absolutely will) sit there forever with you straddling him, arms around his neck, your body pressed into his while he runs his big hands up and down your back - making out with you deep, slow, fully clothed ... Yeah, he loves dry humping 🥺 He loves it when you start grinding on him, slowly and timidly at first and then getting needier... all while he acts like he is in no rush before he starts teasing you :3

Steve LOVES to get you flustered, especially when he's got you under him, and you're panting, moaning, already babbling nonsense trying not to loose it while he just doesn't stop teasing you and talking you through it (thorugh every thrust <333) He neverrr shuts up <3 and when your eyes roll back/you get cross-eyed ?? That's when he's really getting started!!! "There it is... that dumb little look-" he grins at you, "eyes all crossed, mouth hangin' open... you gettin' close, huh?" he laughs under his breath, before he makes you tell him exactly what you want him to do but, oh no, you can only stammer nonsense at this point :( <3

He is super vocal. If he's not talking you through it, he's still making noise. He groans, growls, grunts, curses, praises you...<3

His fav word is unironically pussy - iykyk 🫢😁

[six-white-venus]

pick an object to your right and tell me about it

[unluckilyimnot]

Love language

Pairing : mogari, eugune, kaoru, tamon (phantom busters)

Note: please I just read phantom busters and I love them send me anything I'll do it 😫

masterlist | rules

Mogari – physical touch + word of affirmation

He's all about holding you or your hand, keeping you close in case anything happens ; or not. He just likes it, he uses spirits as an excuse. He just wants you to lean on him, to rest his hands around your waist or shoulders, to play with your hair. Anything honestly as long as you're next to him.

He's not scared to speak his mind, he doesn't have anything to hide from you and he wants you to know how much he loves you and encourages you with whatever you're doing. He's always telling how good you look or how good you did, with a hug of course. He's not shy at all about it and it usually makes you shy, but he loves that too.

Eugene – quality time + word of affirmation

He just likes to have you around and spend time with you, it doesn't matter what you're doing. You can be resting or studying next to him/with him and he's the happiest. What he loves the most is talking with you, about a hundred things, he wants to know your opinion and discuss it around a cup of tea.

He thinks you're amazing and he wants you to know that, you can't doubt yourself with him around you. He pushes you up all the time and he's very soft about it. It's always a little subtle, told with a gentle smile just to be sure it hits right where he wants. It can be out of nowhere and leave you all flustered but for him it's always calculated as the right moment.

Kaoru – gift giving + quality time

He doesn't have much money but when you two go out on dates he likes to get you matching keychains about your favorite manga/show. In general he likes to find you small gifts so he can always surprise you ! If he can't, he makes you cards or a playlist that matches you or your favorite show.

Of course he loves to read next to you or watch movies/shows with you. That's his favorite date honestly, that way he can focus on something else than his own life and so with the person he likes the most. He can talk with you through it, expose points and start a discussion in the middle of the show without caring much and that's what he likes about you, he's free to be himself.

Tamon – act of service

He wants to do thing for you, let him please. Let him know when you need something he'll get it for you. If he noticed you didn't drink in a while, he'll hand you his bottle or pour you a glass of water. He takes your bag for you before you can even reach for it sometimes and if you ask for it he just keep it on his shoulder while leaving you search inside it. He cooks for you when you come over and let you help only with the basic things, he'd rather have you sitting around and talking with him or resting. He doesn't want to be too much with it though, so don't hesitate to tell him when you're just fine and don't need anything. He won't take it bad if you don't want anything.

[str4wberrysw4n]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟑𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋!! + 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃 🧁

i don't want to give out too much info, but i have a friend who doesn't come to school very often. she's absent for majority of the week or comes late so i barely get to see her. today, she didn't come and she hadn't come the day before. most of the time, i try to text her to see if she'll respond, but today i thought to myself "why am i upset she isn't at school? besides it doesn't matter to me. I would like for her to be here but it's not a big deal if she isn't." so after 2nd period, we meet up at the stairs so we can walk to class. when she's not here, i wait for her just in case she came late or smth. this time, i simply walked upstairs. smth was telling me that my friend would be here somehow, but i ignored it.

imagine my surprise when i sat down, looked to my right, and saw her sitting down in the flesh. just there. i was shocked.

now, ik this might not seem like a manifestation (spoiler alert: I count it as one) unless u knew how i would affirm for her to come to school only to not get results. i consider her one of my best friends and school isn't the same without her. it was frustrating that the results would only come days later, yet the moment i said i didn't care, it came to me. why?

imo, the key was that I didn't put it on a pedestal. I told myself "I would LIKE for her to come, but it's not a BIG DEAL if she doesn't." i used this not only bcuz it happened at the time im writing this, but bcuz it's a perfect example of how taking ur manifestations off a pedestal helps.

imagine being a king/queen. u have literally everything u desire with the snap of ur fingers. u control everyone and everything around u. but then, u want something that u don't have in the 3d. u have it the 4d, but YOU don't see it bcuz ur eyes are only honed in on the physical world. all of a sudden, u put this object of desire,that u ALREADY have, ABOVE u. it's what u need or else u'll practically fall and break into thousands of pieces. doesn't make any sense, right? well that's literally how it is when u put ur manifestation on such a high pedestal.

YOU are the prize. YOU should be the one placed on the pedestal and stay on it. ik it's hard, especially when there's no evidence of the 3d showing u that -- but it's true. that's why when u care so much abt a manifestation, u are quite literally taking urself off and putting something way less important on there. it's hard to accept that, bcuz society has literally told us that some people are better than others. those who feed into money, fame, "above average" beauty, concepts that only exist in the 3d. but the truth is being tied down to thoughts like that will only make things harder for u.

I'm not saying u shouldn't try to manifest concepts that we know from the 3d -- almost everyone is. I would be a hypocrite to say that when im literally trying to manifest clothes rn lol. im saying that u should stop thinking of those concepts as "impossible" or "out of ur league", bcuz unless u say so, YOU are the standard. stuff like that will only drag u down into the illusion of the 3d.

to sum it up, stop putting the 3d on a pedestal and put urself on there!! when ur able to detach and no longer depend on ur manifestation coming through, it helps it pass through ur 4d level of consciousness and materialize into the 3d. someone with everything doesn't cry abt something they ASSUME they don't have. now, u might be asking: "what do i do if i can't get my mind off it?" i know all too well that this task is easier said than done, so i wanted to help!! :3 these r just some general hobbies u can do instead of obsessing over manifestations!!

🎀 drawing or some form of art

🎀 self care day

🎀 baking

🎀 studying

🎀clean ur room

🎀 text/face time ur friends

🎀 window shopping (my fav lol)

🎀 read a book

🎀 indulge in one of ur own personal hobbies

these r just some of the things that i do when i find myself stressed with a manifestation!! as always, this is all imo, and im just trying my best to help!! happy manifesting ╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡

[is-it-ableist-if]

This is kind of a weird question. Would it be ableist to call myself disabled despite not having any diagnosises for mental or physical?

I have severe body pains to the point I can barely walk or think a lot of the time. I just got a walking aid actually in hopes it will help to at least keep me from limping through school all the time

I'm also very clearly struggling with mental stuff but I can't get / don't have the money / am not safe to (due to my country trying to wipe out disabled, neurodivergent, trans, etc people cough America) get diagnosed

This isn't a vent by the way I just thought context would help

Not at all, anon! Disability isn't a diagnosis, it's a condition. I know that as a society our understanding of the two is very intertwined, but let me break it down for you.

To be disabled is to have some sort of condition, disorder, or "difference" that affects your quality of life, to the point of making it hard to live the same sort of life as someone without it. Plenty of people have disabilities without knowing it. That's why there are things like undiagnosed autism.

First, let's look at why diagnoses aren't even that important.

A professional diagnosis is essentially a piece of paper saying "yeap, we've done the tests and this is probably 95% what's wrong with you lol, you could probably see another doctor for this but you're on your own otherwise." A self-diagnosis, when done correctly, is "Okay, I've done research, and I'm open to the possibility of being wrong, but I know my symptoms better than anyone else, and I think this is what's wrong with me. Now what do I do?!"

I was undiagnosed with really bad ADHD until I was probably 13 or 14, but I still said I was ADHD because that was my best guess - same with depression. That doesn't make me ableist. Even if I was wrong and it turned out to be something else, i had no way to know better.

Plus, medical professionals are wrong ALL THE TIME! So if they misdiagnose you with, let's say, arthritis, then you're going to assume you have arthritis. If you self-diagnose as having arthritis, you're going to assume that's the case because you came to that conclusion with the information you had accessible to you. But what if later on you found out you don't have arthritis, you actually have fibromyalgia? You've been getting arthritis treatments that just aren't working and another doctor diagnoses you with fibromyalgia. That's not to say doctors don't know what they're doing, they do, but they screw up.

Second, if you're in a position where it's unsafe for you to get a diagnosis, YOU DON'T NEED ONE. Your safety is much more important than everything I just mentioned. At present, you're just doing your best, and that's all that matters. Don't let anyone, even yourself, tell you that if you're genuinely trying to do the best you can with what little resources you have, that you're ableist.

I also want to point out something I think a lot of people miss. Take a look at the word disabled and its synonyms, just the word.

"Dis" and "abled." "Dis" and "ability." "Dis" and "abling."

Dis- is a Latin prefix that quite literally means "opposite of." A disability is the opposite of the ability to do, experience, feel, or have something. Nowhere in the core of that word does anything mention or mean that you have to be 10000000% certain and correct.

I hope this helped you, anon! Thanks so much for the ask, and stay safe! America sucks rn lol

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Retaliation: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Summary: Everyone can see just how much you're suffering, Spencer more than most. When he confesses to the team about your nightmares, Derek takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

When they come through, Emily points to the person she saw helping Schrader out of the car he wrecked.

"That is the guy. That picture is ten years old but that's him. Garcia, it's the first one you sent over."

"His name is Joe Muller. He has a wife and two kids."

"That's definitely the guy. Where is he now?"

"I'll hit you up when I know."

The team doesn't wait for Penelope to do her job. Instead, they start asking around at people who might have known him or do know him. Even people who know his wife and children.

"Muller's not at home," JJ says. "No one is. His wife didn't show up at work and the kids weren't at school yesterday or today."

"Schrader probably has them hostage," you say.

"Where? What could Joe do for him?"

"The only thing that's left. He can get him the money."

"No one even knows where it is."

"Schrader does. He must have hidden it someplace safe. Though, I don't think he'd use a bank. His face is circulating all over town. The only way he would is if Joe walked in," you say. "He'd have to have a key, though."

"Where's the physical evidence from the Schrader case?" Emily asks.

"We don't have it."

"Well, if we can figure out where Schrader hid the money, we'll know where he's going."

You and Derek go to the police station that has the evidence from the original case, and a woman named Betty is working inside the cage where all the evidence is held. She looks up when you three approach her.

"Can I help you?"

"We're with the FBI. We're working the Dale Schrader case," Derek says while flashing his badge at her.

"Is Joe Muller helping you?"

"No, why?"

"He was just here."

"When?"

"Two minutes ago."

"He'll still be in the parking lot," you tell Derek.

You and Derek rush outside and find Dale and Joe inside a car that is about to leave the parking lot. You and Derek raise your guns and stop them before they get far. Joe is the one driving but Dale pulls him close and pushes a gun into the side of his head.

"Stop the car! Put your hands where I can see them!" Derek yells.

"Don't shoot!" Joe pleads.

"Schrader, put it down!" you yell.

"Are you really gonna let me blow his brains out?"

"Drop it or I'll shoot!" you say angrily.

You're channeling his anger to fuel your own. You're not normally this angry but you can't help it.

"What's wrong, agent? Upset I hurt one of your own? Huh?" He smirks at Joe and yanks him closer. "Look at her. She is pissed."

"Please don't kill him," Joe begs.

"See that look in her eyes? She is going to do it. Come on, what are you gonna do?!" You don't say anything so he turns to look at Derek who moves the gun from Joe to Derek. "How'd your aim?"

You take this opportunity and shoot Schrader in the head through the windshield. Joe freaks out and immediately tries to get information on him but Schrader is already dead. 

"Where are they? Where's my family? Tell me where they are!"

"Back up! Get away!" Derek argues.

"She just killed my family!" Joe gets out of the car and stalks toward you. "You killed my family!"

"Calm down!" you yell at him. 

Joe grabs your shoulders and tugs you towards him in anger. Your entire body freezes as you're brought back to the moment when you were taken by your rapist.

"Let me go! Help! Somebody help me, please!"

"Let me go! Please let me go!" you beg in horror.

"Hey! Stop!" Derek yells and yanks Joe off you. He slams him against the car next to you and holds him in a way that he can't go anywhere. "Calm down!"

Yeah, you need to go to therapy for sure. You back away and try to control your breathing without having a complete breakdown. Once Joe is calm enough and you're confident you won't break down in tears, you and Derek take him back to the station while you let the local police deal with Schrader's body. Joe explains the situation with Schrader and produces a photo that he took of Joe's family to prove they are alive.

"He was the only person who knew where my family was and now he's dead." Joe looks at you but you can't seem to look at anyone. "I had every chance to kill him but I couldn't. He had my family."

"This photograph is the only proof of life?"

"Where's my phone?"

Joe takes his phone out of his pocket and plays a voicemail he got from his wife for all to hear.

"Joe, honey, it's me. He got us. All of us. I don't know where we are. God, I am so sorry."

"Help us, Daddy!"

Hotch looks away in pain when he hears the son call out for his dad. It reminds him of Jack who reminds him of Haley and what happened to her.

"Just do what he says, okay? Please do whatever he says."

"I'm gonna get Garcia to trace this," Derek says and dials Penelope. "She might be able to help."

"Were there any other phone calls?" JJ asks.

"I tried to get him to let me talk to them again but he wouldn't."

"There must not be anyone there watching them. He hid his family where no one would hear them call for help. Maybe someplace remote? The cabin?"

"No, the locals tore it apart. There is no one there," Emily states.

"Where are they?" Joe sobs.

"You saw Schrader since he's had your family. You saw something or heard it. There's got to be some clue. Y/N?"

"Yeah, I'm on it," you sigh quietly. You get in front of Joe and hold out your hands. You don't feel like telling him what you can do and he doesn't ask. He puts his hands in yours and you close your eyes to concentrate. "When was the last time you saw your family?"

He explains it as you see it. There is a one-story house with three cars in the driveway. Joe's wife is getting the kids in the car and once done, she approaches the car Joe is in. They kiss and both go their separate ways. 

"Did you notice any cars on the street?"

"Nothing." Joe drives away and she waves him off, but there are no other cars on the street. "Our routine's the same every day. The kids have to be at school by 8:15, then Molly heads to work."

"She didn't make it to either yesterday. What was her route?"

"North on Route 7 and East on 22."

"Is that route isolated during the morning commute?"

"No."

"If he was watching, there's a good chance she never left the driveway," Hotch sighs.

"I drove out first. I just left them there."

Joe wants to pull his hands away but you keep them firmly in yours.

"Where did he find you?" you ask.

"At the hardware store."

Joe just got done in the hardware store but before he can even put the keys in the ignition, Schrader slaps a picture of his wife and children onto his window indicating him of their danger.

"He told me how for eleven years he'd been trying to figure out how he got locked up. He knew Otey had ratted him out for the robbery, but that wasn't enough to put him away. He said I was the piece that didn't fit. He figured out I was a cop."

"He took your family." Hotch holds up a picture of Stacy. "Did you ever see this woman?"

"Yeah. I think she's some junkie. I saw her right after he told me, 'You help me, your family lives. You don't, they die.'"

Joe is driving Schrader around town and stops at an alleyway where Stacy is pacing. Schrader hops out and starts talking to her but they are disagreeing. You can't hear what they're saying but her body language suggests she is angry and impatient and Schrader is anxious and annoyed with her.

Suddenly, he stabs her and drags her to the car. Joe can't do anything but watch as Schrader shoves her in the front seat and climbs in next to her before ordering Joe to drive.

"You didn't know what she was talking about?"

"No."

Joe drives to an open area on the side of the road and tosses Stacy down the hill where she is ultimately found. You take your hands away from Joe since you're done seeing what he is willing to give. You explain what you saw to the team and they try and piece together what happened.

"He could have left the body in the alley. Why didn't he?"

"He didn't want to draw attention to that place."

"Where was it?" Hotch asks.

"South of Van Wyck. It's an abandoned side of town that the junkies took over."

"It's a perfect place to leave hostages," you state.

"Can you take us back there?" Emily asks.

"Wait, you think she knew about my family?"

"Her murder was the only thing that didn't fit. Now it makes sense. Schrader killed her to shut her up."

With your help, you're able to lead the team inside the abandoned building to where Joe's wife is. She is battered, bruised, and dirty but alive. The kids aren't with her so you use her energy to guide you to where they are. With his family safe and Schrader dead, this is a case closed.

Derek had given you the choice to start therapy sessions Monday morning but you feel like you need to get this done and over with. You don't want to be here even if you know you have to be here. The therapist you chose, Melissa Patterson, had an opening right when you got home to Virginia and suggested you take it so she could get to know you and establish a rapport.

However, you've been in her office for twenty minutes and have been silent for seventeen of it. The ticking of the clock makes you more anxious, anxious enough to want to blurt out how you're feeling.

"I don't even know why I'm here. I'm fine."

Of course, you'd say that. Everyone wants to be fine. No one wants to feel like their world is falling apart.

"That's not what I hear," Melissa says and crosses her legs.

"Yeah, I went to prison for a crime I didn't commit. It could happen to anyone."

"It didn't, though. It happened to you." You go silent and look at your lap. You don't think you can look at her face without crying. "Why don't you start by telling me a bit about yourself? That doesn't seem so bad, does it?"

You take a deep breath and finally look at her in the eyes.

"Where do I begin?"

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and of unspeakable love." - Washington Irving

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[soul-our-punk]

I've been reblogging a fair number of disability related posts in recent (when I actually come online). I'd like to take a moment talk a bit about my condition and frustrations around it. (TW near the end: pet death)

I have fibromyalgia, diagnosed by my rheumatologist after our investigation into my Sjogren's antibodies being six times higher than normal came up with no response to medication designed for it. I'm looking to take the test for fibro to confirm it for my disability case and am aware it only can identify one type, so here's hoping I lucked into at least being able to show medical evidence if my joints being fucked up little pain factories.

I've been seeking disability insurance since 2022 and have reached a remand back to the hearing level from the appeals council. I wasn't expecting it, since the judge pretty much twisted my testimony a bunch, my lawyers abandoned me, and I couldn't manage to interact with social security to get access to my C-file due to my condition--neither being able to get through the misophonia triggering ear pierce of the 120+ minute hold music nor mustering the motivation for getting down to the physical location to wait for hours upon hours in hostile seating and overstimulating environment.

It's been 2+ years since my initial application and I've unemployed for 99% of that. That 1% being a grand total of 10 hours at a major grocery chain in what can only be considered a misguided attempt to cope with no income, which resulted in my entire body shutting down with an explosive flare.

Now, my spouse, bless her, has been able to support me through this whole process. Emotionally and physically. I have a lot of gratitude for her. Unfortunately, with rising costs, being a single income home means we've been eating into our savings. More than half of it.

A kind friend was able to get me a job building ikea grade display furniture for a different major grocery chain. It's less than 15 hours a week and at the pay rate I take about 1000 gross per month. The thing is, while it isn't as intense as the other grocery work, it still causes flare ups, including full body migraines which take me out for a day or so.

I was about to get a new lawyer to help with my remand, until they learned I got this gig. Now, I'd been told by my previous lawyers that to qualify for disability (by legal definitions in the US), you can only work part time and make less than a certain amount each month--about 1600 this year. These new lawyers enlightened me that, while true, any amount you make that nears that limit makes your case harder since the judge gives you the side eye.

So here I am, tearing up my body because we can't afford for me to not do so, and it turns out my hope to get income that doesn't require me to tear up my body is at risk because I'm desperate for income. The government really does hope chronically-ill people either die or get starved out of the application process.

The hardest part is that if I don't keep this application alive, I won't be able to apply again, because (say it with me) I've been too disabled to work enough hours to meet the work credits within the past 10 years from the jump of a new application.

But I'm tired. I'm tired every day. I'm too tired to fully engage with things that bring me joy. I'm tired of thinking about how best to convey to an uncaring system how my conditions affect the quality of my life. I'm tired of searching for the perfect combinations of chemistry that can settle my anxiety, audhd, depression, hypomania, muscle and joint pain. I'm tired of brain fog attacking my ability to engage with topics that matter to me. I'm tired of hiding my pain from my family of origin, because I don't want to listen to their ableism. I'm tired dealing with the self loathing. I'm tired of being me.

I've all about given up hope that I'll get at least this one thing to reduce the pain. And that's what the government hopes will happen. Because they'd rather spend more money in an effort to deny than it would cost to just provide the benefit. Nothing is going to change my condition, whether I get disability or not. The truth is I have chronic conditions that will haunt me for the rest of my life, barring a miracle of science.

But the government isn't concerned with the truth, the law is just an arbitrary metric that says you can't be able to lick envelopes or crouch or lift a certain poundage. It's unconcerned whether there actually exists a job that us exclusively licking envelops that has the hours and pay to amount to a living wage. It's unconcerned with how fucked up you feel after bending down or lifting once or twice. All it cares about is finding that one thing that lets them say 'sorry, thanks for playing.' Even if that thing is is twisting around your testimony.

"Well, he plays video games. Well, he has cats." They honestly will purport that disabled people can't have any modicum of joy in their life, have anything to distract from the horrors. They're looking for anything like that to the point that a judge will hear that conditioned ruined my relationship with my dogs that I had before the conditions reached full blown disability, only to turn around and say "well, he is currently raising dogs." My rescues died from cancer 6 months apart in 2017, prick! What the fuck.

I don't know how to end this rant, so I'll just close with I know there is a lot going on in the world right now and I wish I had more energy to put toward taking a stand. There are people I love who need protection and care and support, but I don't have the resources to provide those things. I can't even provide them for myself. We need reform. We need revolution.

[hongherbac]

[Serizawa centric] The Humanity of S&S - Chapter 3

Read it on AO3

Chapter: 3/6

Fandom: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100 Rating: General Audiences

Non-Romantic Relationships: Seirizawa Katsuya & Reigen Arataka & Dimple

Summary: Serizawa got a frustrating phone call, and his power didn't like that.

CW: emotional blackmail

Chapter 3

"Hey, Serizawa, don't you think that's a little bit too much?"

Reigen's voice brought him back to reality. The evil spirits had long since been destroyed to ashes under his power, leaving only the original possessed wardrobe, which was gradually burning black from the center, and even began to smoke due to the psychic powers.

Serizawa quickly withdrew his hand, "Right, right, sorry! I was distracted!"

The client came back from outside, "Why are you apologizing? How's the exorcism going? Is everything okay?"

"Oh, no problem at all! The evil spirits have been completely eliminated." Reigen greeted the client with a big smile, "It's just that, after all, the evil spirits are the embodiments of the dead with lingering grudges. Even though they need to be purified and eliminated for the sake of the living, we still have to pay them some respect. You see, this scorch mark is evidence of the spirit's ascension."

"I see. Thank you very much."

Reigen and Serizawa were on their way back to the city. As usual, Reigen had asked the client for travel expenses, but in the end, they either walked or took the bus. They had a lot of time anyway, but their income was inversely proportional to it. In addition, Reigen had always complained that his physical fitness couldn't keep up with Mob. He said that he should exercise more during the day, while going straight to the ramen store after work. As a result, only these little bits of stingy transportation time could dig this  lazy, pre-middle-aged guy out of his chair.

"Serizawa, what's troubling you?" Reigen said casually with his hands in his pockets.

Serizawa was startled. But it's Reigen-san after all. Of course Reigen can see right through him. Serizawa had barely slept last night and had nightmares after he finally fell asleep. Now, there were still dark circles under his eyes.

"Reigen-san… what should I do when I start to doubt myself?"

"Why are you suddenly thinking of such a heavy question?"

"Um, for example," Serizawa struggled, "when answering multiple choice questions, there are always two options left, right? Say, I've already chosen the answer B, but when I go back and check, I start to feel uncertain, and I can't help thinking that I should have chosen the other one."

"Huh?"

Reigen was expecting some kind of bigger problem, not something as trivial as a pop quiz. Being so concerned about exams and grades, surely Serizawa was still just a junior high school student inside. It might seem trivial from an adult's perspective, but it was indeed the main focus of student life, and also an important source of confidence.

"Ah… I understand. That happens sometimes. And if I later realize that I made the wrong choice, I would feel so regretful and think that I should have chosen the other one."

"Yes! Besides, if I keep hesitating, time will just keep passing. I've already wasted a lot of time. It's scary to think that I might spend it on the wrong options again."

"Uh-huh. Time constraints can be very stressful."

"What would you do if it were you, Reigen-san?"

"Well, I've never really cared much about such things." Reigen scratched his head, "It doesn't really matter. It's just a small part of life. Even if you get it wrong this time, you'll learn from it next time, right? Your diligence, and the effort you've put in, won't be shaken by this. In any case, I won't look down on you for that."

"That's very wise, Reigen-san."

"No big deal." Reigen tried to play it cool, "Let's stop by a convenience store before we get back to the office. I'll buy you a snack. No more than 200 yen."

They passed by one. Reigen told Serizawa to go in first, as he needed to withdraw some money across the street because ATMs in convenience stores charged a service fee.

A cool breeze came from the refrigerated shelves. Serizawa relaxed. Every time he talked to Reigen-san, even if it was just for a few words, he felt relieved and his thoughts became much clearer. He felt a little guilty for his doubts and thoughts of quitting his job, as if the wavering had not only affected him, but also offended Reigen.

He browsed the shelves, each product beautifully packaged, all designed to attract customers. To others, they looked ordinary, but Serizawa liked them. It was amazing how many colors there were in the world.

Bzzz… Bzzz…

The cell phone in his pocket vibrated, and he took it out. It's Mom.

"Hi, Mom?"

"Katsuya, I heard you turned down the job offered by President Ito?"

Serizawa was so shocked that he almost dropped the phone. He felt as if his stomach had suddenly been hollowed out. He quickly asked, "How did you know about this?"

"Ito-san just called the house. His voice sounds so young, but he acts very mature. I wish you'd learn more from him."

"How did he get our house number?… No, forget it. What did he say?"

"You should be grateful. He said a lot of nice things about you, and he wanted to invite you to his company. But you didn't accept it! What were you thinking? It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet such an outstanding person who appreciates you so much."

"But, Mom, I'm really happy with my current job…"

"Katsuya, you are still such a stubborn child, just like always." A heavy sigh came from the other end of the line, "Mommy had never understood what you're doing… You say exorcism? How am I going to tell people about this? I can't even hold my head up outside. You should grow up. Stop thinking only of your own feelings. You have to look at the bigger picture."

"No, it's not just about the feeling! I'm not losing control of my abilities now. I can use my power to help others, and I'm doing something meaningful. My boss and co-workers were very kind, and they care about me."

"… You mean, that scary ability?"

Serizawa felt dizzy.

"Since you can control it, it's better to hide that dangerous thing."

"Mom, stop."

Clatter. Clatter.

"What do you mean, 'stop'? I'm saying it for your own good. Do you know how hard it is for Mommy? After your father left, and you became like that, I've had to handle everything at home alone. I've even thought of taking you with me."

"…"

"Then we met Suzuki-san. What a wonderful man, who took you out of your room, and taught you how to return to society. But just a few years later, you said, ‘I've made a mistake, I'm quitting,’ and started doing those strange things instead. It's all because your father was away, and I was too busy making money to teach you well. How else could I have raised such an ungrateful child?"

"It's not like that! You got it all wrong… Please leave me alone."

Clatter. Clatter.

"Why are you so mean to me?" The woman's voice sobbed slightly, "How could I possibly leave you alone? You're my son. Of course I want you to be happy. But you're always like this. Other people's children are taking responsibility for their parents. I don't want you to be like a normal person, but at least don't let me worry about you all the time, okay?

Serizawa was about to retort, but he swallowed his words when he heard his mother sobbing.

"Just go work for President Ito, alright? Mommy won't hurt you." Bzzz. "Let's quit your job today. It's work time. Your boss should be around. Give him your cell phone, and let Mommy talk for you-" Bzzz. “Katsuya, are you interfering with the signal? Mommy I…home…can you hear me…ahh…emd…“

Snapped. Serizawa closed the phone, his heart pounding wildly as he felt the blood rushing to his head.

-Bang!

The muffled sound of something falling made him look up, only to realize that all the items in the store were shrouded in a faint purple light, trembling uneasily and violently on the shelves, almost being shaken off the ground. It was the overflowing emotions that unconsciously activated his psychic power.

Serizawa hastily reached out his hand, trying to retrieve the energy. However, his hand was shaking. The energy is turbulent.

Don't shake. Control it, before you get everyone into trouble. He gripped the wrist with his right hand. Clatter, clatter, clatter. Things shook even more violently. Packages of potato chips fell to the ground, then floated back up. Other items also floated up slowly, and the rebar groaned as it was dented by a powerful force. Please, stop. Widening his eyes, almost panicked, he tried even harder to contain the whirlwind of energy, but it felt as if the power had a mind of its own, slipping through his fingers like a flood, hissing to be released. He knew what would happen next. A familiar sight that had long been absent. It was going to be bad. People would get hurt. They would scream, cry out in fear. So,he can't let that happen. He MUST control it.

He couldn't. Serizawa was almost exhausted, but  it seemed as if he had forgotten how to use his powers, like he was falling into a deep, black hole. On the contrary, the purple energy kept pouring out, on the verge of exploding. He was desperate, screaming helplessly inside. Please, stop.

Please, somebody stop me.

Whoosh-bang. With the sound of the umbrella opening, he felt a shadow rise above him, blocking out the blinding pale daylight and most of his vision. The world suddenly became a small place. The umbrella wrapped around him. It felt small, dark, bare, but simple.

Suddenly he could see nothing but the smooth, grayish-white fabric of the umbrella, and the expressionless face of Reigen.

Things fell back to the floor. Shelves creaked with relief, and lights wobbled. In the distance, there were some rapid footsteps and frightened gasps from the clerk. But under the protection of the umbrella, those sounds felt very far away.

"Are you all right, Serizawa?"

Reigen held an umbrella for both of them which he had taken from a bucket a few seconds before. His voice showed no emotion.

"Reigen-san, I…"

"I know. No need to explain now. Did you get hurt?"

"No."

"Good. Everyone is fine. It's just a few things falling off. Don't worry."

"Okay. I'm really, really sorry…"

"As I said, no need to explain now." Reigen gestured for them to head outside. As they passed the counter, Reigen put some bills and coins on the table, covering the cost of the umbrella.

They stepped out of the convenience store. The sun was shining, but it was cool under the umbrella. Cars were rumbling, and the crowds were milling. Muffled conversations blended into an indistinguishable white noise. Nothing was affected by the commotion in the store. Serizawa had always concentrated with a furrowed brow, giving his all. He must be facing some very difficult problems that even his psychic powers couldn't handle… No, at times like this, his strong power might be a burden instead.

Reigen had never seen him look so miserable. Even when he encountered the most powerful evil spirits, even when he was confronted with the uncontrollable and simply unbeatable Mob, Serizawa had always concentrated with furrowed brows, and gave his all. He must be encountering some very difficult trouble that even couldn't be handled with psychic powers… No, at times like these, his strong power might be a burden instead.

People couldn't hear when they were overwhelmed by emotions. Reigen patted Serizawa on the shoulder, told him to leave work early and get some rest. Serizawa replied in a low voice, took the umbrella from Reigen and walked away in a daze.

"We should have a chat tomorrow." Reigen muttered to himself.

Serizawa returned to his humble apartment. He inserted the gray umbrella into the bucket, right next to the old transparent umbrella he had been using for years.

He didn't turn on the light, and the curtains had been drawn for years. Though it was not yet night, the room was dim. Instead, he turned on the game console and picked up the well-worn controller. The screen lit up, with rough pixelated graphics flashing intermittently.

Game after game. Virtual characters never grew tired, but the person playing in reality did. Barely sleeping last night, Serizawa hunched over in front of the TV, feeling his body getting heavier and heavier, his eyes sore, his concentration breaking sporadically, and the mistakes becoming more and more frequent. The clock seemed to be moving very slowly, but when he looked back, it suddenly jumped a long way forward. He unwrapped a carton of drinks he had bought earlier, absentmindedly realized that he had forgotten to buy the snack. He also forgot to buy dinner. Even forgot to go to night school.

Serizawa rubbed his eyes, trying to refocus. It was not that he cared so much about the score of the game, but it filled his mind with those sound and light effects.

The night was getting late. The already unlit room did not seem to get any darker. The clock showed two-thirty. He really should go to bed - especially if he wanted to be able to go to work tomorrow. But a resistance overcame his reasoning. He started the next game again. And then the next. And then the next. It seemed that if he stopped to sleep, tomorrow would come right away.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would have to get out of his room, head to the office, and explain to Reigen-san about his loss of control and the early departure. He would have to call his mother and apologize for hanging up so rudely in the heat of the moment. He would also run into Ito-san at the night school, who would surely ask him about his considered decision.

Took a deep breath. He could do it. He had been helped by so many people, and he had come so far. He couldn't go back anymore.

He should leave his umbrella in his room, and walk out the door with just his briefcase. He could no longer rely on others, but had to face the world on his own, maturely and independently. A world that is so wide, so sprawling, without any boundaries.

He could do it.

He HAD to do it.

… Just one more game.

[marshmallowprotection]

Can you write a imagine for a mc who has a abusive older brother? The brother is emotionally abusive, he insults her, steals her money and is super manipulative .

As someone who has a abusive family member, the most difficult part (for me) is believing that everyting that happened to you was abuse and you are infact a victim of abuse.

How would he feel if he saw that his mc doesnt believe what happened to her was abuse or maybe excuses her brothers actions? And what would he do if he ever were to meet the older brother? :3 i love your art btw and make sure to take care of yurself 💗

TW: Abuse

Now, I'm going to assume by "he" you mean Saeran. So, I'll go with GE Saeran for good measure, but if that's not the case, I'll be happy to write this out again. But, the answer won't change that much if I'm being honest. He understands what it feels like to be at the mercy of an abusive family member, having long understood what his mother did to him wasn't okay.

He's always told himself she wasn't so bad... it was the only thing that comforted him when he had to compare his mother to his father. She was the lesser of two evils. She didn't kill him, nor did she threaten his life the same way the mysterious concept of his father did.

He knew if he stayed with her, the torment wouldn't change, but at least he knew what kind of pain was in store for him. The threat of his father was every horrible thing you can imagine... and it's hard to imagine that many threats when you're already accustomed to one kind of pain.

But, that's the thing.

Nobody should be forced into a situation where they have to choose between evil A or evil B. You shouldn't have to deal with cruelty in the first place. Life isn't always lucky, but it doesn't change the fact that nobody deserves to live day by day in misery. You shouldn't have your life upended by a family member who is using you without any sort of regard to your well-being or happiness.

Abuse is abuse, no matter if the person shouts at you or physically hurts you. You may need some time to understand what you've gone through is abuse, and that's okay. But, if you're in physical danger in any way because of another person, Saeran can't allow that to keep happening. No person would ever want to let that go on when they can do something to help you.

He can't force you to cut someone out of your life, but he can sit down with you and make sure you hear the tough words you need to hear. Your brother can't get away with what he's done, it's your choice to turn him in for the neglect, harassment, and theft, but this has to come to an end before your brother hurts you more.

You can't open the door for someone who brings nothing but pain into your heart unless they're willing to acknowledge what they've done and work on themselves, and even then—it doesn't mean you forgive them or that you accept them back into your life.

You just can't be around someone who continually hurts you, no matter who they are, family or not.

He understands you love your older brother, and that you want to look out for him, but you cannot give away your clothes from your back and leave yourself with nothing while your brother gives you nothing but abuse in return. There is no excuse in the world that'd ever explain or somehow justify what was done to you. You have to choose your peace. He will support you no matter what, but your older brother isn't a person he would choose to be around you if he had any say in it.

He made the mistake of hurting you before, too, but at least he's acknowledged his mistake and fought every day to make sure you know he'll never dare do that again. You may not believe what your brother's done to you is abuse, and he'll understand if you don't want to call it that, but no matter what you call it, you can't continue to live like this with your brother hurting you.

You need boundaries.

You need limits.

You need walls.

You need something to protect you if you can't bring yourself to cut off your brother completely. One thing's for sure, you won't have to go places where your brother will be alone. He knows what it feels like to be manipulated by an abuser, and he won't stand by when he can be there to put a stop to it. To make sure nobody can ever shame you or make you feel bad when you know better than the people lying to you.

Make no mistake, he's not trying to strong-arm you or make you feel like someone who can't make decisions for themself; He's been where you are, and he wants to stand strong with you because you did the same for him.

"My love, there is no excuse for what he's done to you, just as there was no excuse for the insults I hurled at you before. You forgave me when I hurt your feelings, and I'm grateful you did, but... no matter how many times you forgive your brother, he hasn't done the work to show he won't hurt you again. I know you love him, but the people who love us... truly love us... would never do what he's done to you. No matter his reasoning, there is nothing he can say to you to justify this harm. Nothing justifies that pain."

[wahlpaper]

Some Girls Do Review

Some Girls Do by Jennifer Dugan

CW: Abusive Parent, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Homophobia, Queerphobia, Legal Struggles, College Admission Struggles, Money Problems, Swearing, Underage Drinking, Blood, Violence, Discussion of Sex, Mentioned Transphobia, Outing, Bullying, Domestic Abuse, Misogyny, Classism, Slut-Shaming

5/5

Sometimes a book will give you something you weren't expecting. In my case, Jennifer Dugan's Some Girls Do gave me closure for Hayley Kiyoko's Girls Like Girls novel. They each have a relationship with a similar dynamic, even though they're set 15 years apart. It's what Kiyoko's book should have been. Some Girls Do also made me understand why I still had a draw to Dugan's writing despite her other books (more on this later). This novel was so sweet and well written, and it also understood how to handle the heavy material included.

Some Girls Do starts when Morgan transfers to a new school near the end of the school year in her senior year of high school. Ruby runs into her that day, almost. Despite their rocky start, these two girls can't help but be interested in the life of the other. Morgan is facing a legal battle with her old school, which had discriminated against her for being a lesbian. She's a track star, but this is leaving her future in question. Ruby is seen as white trash because she's poor and does pageants at her mother's request. Except she doesn't have much control over her life at all. What she wants is to fix cars, and she might have a plan to do that. Will Morgan and Ruby be able to help each other or will they make things worse?

My first introduction to Dugan was Hot Dog Girl. I liked the book well enough, I even recommended it to a few people. Ultimately, the relationship didn't really work in it. The love interest deserved better than the main character. I tried Verona Comics next. Shakespeare, comics, and a bi dude? That absolutely sold it! Unfortunately, the relationship was so toxic that I'm not sure how I made it through the book. Despite only having read these two books by Dugan, I never swore off her writing. Her books have been on my radar. I can tell they do well because there's always a line on Libby. I'm careful about putting books on hold because I don't want them all to come in at once, but I finally put two more of Dugan's books on hold (look out for Love at First Set in the future!). I'm glad I did, as I was enamored with Some Girls Do the whole time.

It should come as no surprise by this point that the thing I valued the most in Some Girls Do was the relationship between Morgan and Ruby. Only one was out and both were experiencing queerphobia within their communities. Morgan had recently left a bad relationship and Ruby didn't feel safe enough to commit to one, no matter the gender. There were a lot of chances for their relationship to not work, but the book explored what they could do about that. It never felt like Dugan was asking us to accept a situation that felt toxic as romantic. She learned, for sure. She also included a range of queer experiences and showed the importance of queer spaces for teenagers. Other queer identities included in this novel were trans, non-binary, and pansexual. Different experiences and situations were also explored. Not everyone has the same queer experience, but we can still be stronger and safer together. 

One thing I enjoy about Some Girls Do is that not everything has to be neatly tied up or turn out the way you expect for the characters to find happiness or a good future. The book absolutely has an ending, but there's the suggestion that the story is still ongoing for Morgan and Ruby. They still have things to face and enjoy in the future, but we got to be there while they went through this part. Although the pacing was confusing at times it didn't affect my appreciation of the novel. Dugan is great with plot and world-building, and now characters too. This book was released back in 2021, so I'm excited to see how she's grown since!

If you're looking for a heavy but wholesome queer teen love story, Some Girls Do by Jennifer Dugan is a great option. You'll get rewarded with 2 whole instances of the title being said by characters, relatable queer thoughts, and lines that make you laugh out loud. Go on and give the book a try, you know that some girls do!

[mariana-oconnor]

Black Peter pt 1

Haven't heard of this one either. Let's hope that's down to the fact it's a later story and not because it isn't popular anymore because of *looks at title* reasons.

I have never known my friend to be in better form, both mental and physical, than in the year '95.

Watson does keep waxing poetic about the year 1895. Must have been an epic year.

Holmes, however, like all great artists, lived for his art's sake, and, save in the case of the Duke of Holdernesse, I have seldom known him claim any large reward for his inestimable services.

Do we know the Duke of Holdernesse? I don't remember his name. How rude was he to Holmes that Holmes took his money? I feel like that must be arsehole tax.

So unworldly was he—or so capricious—that he frequently refused his help to the powerful and wealthy where the problem made no appeal to his sympathies...

More evidence for the Sherlock Holmes hates the rich theory. It's not that he's unworldly or capricious, Watson, it's that usually they're the bad guys (please see King of Bohemia). Not to put modern biases on a historical fictional character or anything.

down to his arrest of Wilson, the notorious canary-trainer

What did he train the canaries to do?

Was it, like, an entire hoard of pickpocketing birds?

Did they murder people for him? What?

Google tells me it might have been a euphemism for brothel-keeper. Or a singing teacher. So... honestly that story could go any number of ways. I think I'll stick to actual canaries, though. Probably in Canary Wharf.

During the first week of July my friend had been absent so often and so long from our lodgings that I knew he had something on hand. The fact that several rough-looking men called during that time and inquired for Captain Basil...

Watson pining at home while Holmes is out with rough-looking men and having them call him Captain...

...made me understand that Holmes was working somewhere under one of the numerous disguises and names with which he concealed his own formidable identity.

Honestly, I feel like this is character development. Before Watson would have just been 'Holmes is away' and 'Who is Captain Basil?', two entirely separate lines of thought. Now he has connected the dots. Proud of you, buddy!

...he strode into the room, his hat upon his head and a huge barbed-headed spear tucked like an umbrella under his arm.

“If you could have looked into Allardyce's back shop you would have seen a dead pig swung from a hook in the ceiling, and a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves furiously stabbing at it with this weapon. I was that energetic person, and I have satisfied myself that by no exertion of my strength can I transfix the pig with a single blow."

Everyone needs a hobby.

I recognised him at once as Stanley Hopkins, a young police inspector for whose future Holmes had high hopes...

Oh hai, Hopkins!

"However, my friend Dr. Watson knows nothing of this matter, and I should be none the worse for hearing the sequence of events once more."

For the sake of Watson and us, the invisible audience, please to be info-dumping exposition policeman!

"In 1883 he commanded the steam sealer Sea Unicorn, of Dundee."

"He has been known to drive his wife and his daughter out of doors in the middle of the night, and flog them through the park until the whole village outside the gates was aroused by their screams."

Can't say I'm entirely sorry Captain Carey is dead. In fact, maybe just chalk this up as self-inflicted and leave it at that. Whoever did it probably had a good reason.

However, the nickname doesn't seem to really be racist, so that's better than it could have been. Swarthy, as far as I'm aware, refers to tanned/weather beaten skin usually, which makes sense for a longtime sailor.

"He had built himself a wooden outhouse—he always called it ‘the cabin’—a few hundred yards from his house, and it was here that he slept every night. It was a little, single-roomed hut, sixteen feet by ten."

The original man cave?

The description of him is not crying out the sort of man who would keep tobacco on hand just in case his friends wanted some. It's not crying out the sort of man who has friends, for a start.

“Exactly, Mr. Holmes. I appreciated that point, and I conjectured that it was dropped by the murderer in his hurried flight. It lay near the door.”

Hopkins really is the smartest of the police officers we've met. And I still haven't noticed Watson comparing him to an animal.

So we have a terrible man killed by a harpoon in his man cave and no one noticed for ages because no one wanted to talk to him. I'm kind of hoping that all the women were in on it and they just... harpooned him together.

[honeylikesyanderes]

pros and cons of dating the yanderes pt. 2 (yandate edition)

not proofread-

was sick when i finished it so pardon me if it sucks

18+ mdni pls

this is kinda crack and kinda serious at the same time tbh

icarus

pros

can fly

is a pretty boy

loves flowers

loves giving gifts

has wine mom energy

is rich

has pretty eyes

loves giving you kisses and hugs

you get free stuff all the time from his winery

carries water for you when you go out in case you get dehydrated

always pays attention to everything you touch when you guys go shopping

cons

will gaslight you for no good reason

is toxic

may cuss out your parents just because

loves to cause chaos

favourite colour is bright orange.

doesn't like milk

can be a bit messy

doesn't like to clean up feathers from his wings that fall around the house

ren

pros

is a sweetheart

extremely supportive

likes kids

is loyal to a fault

would do anything for his mate

is affectionate

can cook

physically and biologically incapable of cheating on you

makes art for you all the time

likes to bake and cook for you all the time

packs lunch for you when you have to go to work

bakes you world-class cakes for your birthday, anniversary and any other important days to you

your parents/friends will love him

cons

likes to drink orange juice after brushing his teeth.

drew

pros

will do house chores without you asking

is a middle-aged cat in human form basically

will indulge you in your guilty pleasures

super tall so you'll always feel petite beside him

will always apologise when he's wrong

will always protect you

can and will talk you out of bad situations

has a lot of connections and is willing to use them to help you out

cons

is a lawyer.

is death and is therefore desensitised to death and other related matters

can't feel much emotions towards anyone that isnt you.

minor drinking problem (even tho he cant get drunk)

not super touchy or super sexual

atlas

pros

has a lot of money and influence

will always spoil you

overprotective of you

loves to read

will write you edgar allen poe type poetry

can teleport!!

will make good impressions with your parents/friends

will threaten your coworkers if they're mean to you

has nice horns

will buy you a custom gun because 'it'll look cute on you''

cons

will probably kill your exes (even if you guys are on good terms)

is triggered by specific colours

likes to put gin in his cereal

trust issues x30000

might become distant when he's going through a tough time

always carries a tiny alcohol flask with him everywhere (even tho he canonically cannot get drunk)

anger issues towards everyone that isnt you.

avanti

pros

always horny

has quite a bit of money

very cute and conventionally attractive

is a streamer and gamer

great with his hands/fingers

affectionate, fluffy and shy with you

will always flirt with you and keep your relationship interesting

has fluffy ears and tail

likes alternative music and is open-minded

very assertive and can communicate his needs/wants effectively

cons

may flirt with fans as fan service

just a flirty person in general

bad with boundaries sometimes

likes to lick you just because

is a cat demon fr

true demon form is super scary and you're not allowed to see

always horny.

doesn't like apple juice

[terrence-silver]

I saw your headcanons on how you think chozen would interact with beloved and I was wondering if you have any headcanons on how the rest of the cobra Kai characters would be with beloved. Thank you love your posts

(Here's some random ones I currently had thoughts about):

― Amanda Larusso: As I said before somewhere on here, I think Amanda would view Terry's and beloved's relationship as an abusive one, even though it ain't necessarily. But, one has to understand, everything points towards it with some really strong arguments in place, reasonably enough, to an outsider looking in --- such overwhelming intensity is hard to understand to someone lacking context. Surely, anyone who's with Terry Silver is with Terry Silver under duress and because the power imbalance is too big for them to leave. Maybe they were here for advantage at first and now they cannot escape anymore? Maybe. At least Amanda thinks so, especially if beloved's a woman, and a younger woman no less, the age difference on full display; her instinctive solidarity, sense of empathy, pity and mothering urge kicks in and she sets her personal bias aside for a moment (which she does have plenty of, admittedly), wanting to covertly help or offer some advice and maybe go about it the wrong way at first. Sure, she might snark a bit here and there, but if she can secretly slip beloved her number to call her 'just in case' she will. A Karate war is less important than someone's well-being. Of course Terry would discover, because he discovers everything. He's oddly flattered and pretty damn amused.

― Tory Nichols: Tory's been surrounded with people 'who have it all' all her life, comes with the territory of merely living in LA, but Terry's beloved, in the off chance she ever even sees them comes with an a mystique unlike no other. This person is beyond even the mean well off girls at a pool party or at prom. Beyond the wealth princess that is Samantha Larusso. This person is like a movie star. Like some sort of fairytale mythical being one can only vaguely guess about. Sensei Silver already comes with an innate old money aura of his own, so whoever he's with automatically has a certain something about them --- a certain something Tory can't help but silently loathe and admire. Feel begrudgingly in awe of. She isn't exactly sure how to approach and view this person, so she doesn't. Tory takes note of beloved from a distance, because that's what Sensei Silver allows in the first place, undoubtedly separating his private life and what happens in the training hall. Tory muses, briefly, indulging herself in the mirror with a pair of earrings that look a bit like something she briefly spotted worn in the hallway of the dojo, in a flash, through the blur of the moment, only to scoff and set them aside. It's a fucking daydream.

― Johnny Lawrence: Rude, blunt and disrespectful, undoubtedly, in a 'What's someone like you doing with an old coot like this!' kind of way, with no filter in place --- and Johnny doesn't even have to know Terry too well to utter something like this zinger on a whim, especially when irked, his childishness kicking in. I mean, c'mon, we all know he would. Johnny thinks it and Johnny says it. Things might get worse depending of beloved's gender, fluctuating between the understanding that a female beloved might just be some sort of escort or someone here for all this cash (imagine the added bonus of them being foreign) and that a male beloved could just be (insert several problematic comments here). Yikes. Thing is, depending of how beautiful or physically attractive beloved is perceived in his eyes at the moment, some jealousy might be in place, because, yeah, a babe like that...he saw a babe like that on the arms of a Bond Villain on a cassette tape when he was a kid back in the 80's, which is really fitting right about now, considering Terry could pass for a Bond villain, to be honest, not that he admits to it, it is a matter of pride, covering up the fact with several layers of sarcasm and words for sure deemed 'fighting words'.

― Daniel Larusso: I think...Daniel would be surprised Terry has someone who loves him. He wouldn't be surprised with dalliances and temporary adventures (he expects Terry to have unstable, volatile relationships that aren't serious and are very surface level, in fact, almost as Karmic punishment), but he is surprised by anything deemed a traditional family structure. Anything deemed as a genuine, deep connection with another person. Terry was supposed to be forgotten. Buried. Especially after the tournament loss of '85 and everything that preceded it. A familial bond and a bond of love almost feels like someone only in the moral right has and the discovery Terry has, eerily, the same wholesome family structure he himself has with Amanda is creepy and unusual. Doesn't feel right. Is this a paid family Terry hired to follow him around? Does beloved know the type of man Terry is in the first place? He wouldn't put anything past Terry. No, no, he shouldn't feel angry that someone who hurt him so badly has a normal and even good life with someone who cares for him, that's not what Mr. Miyagi would teach him to feel --- but then again, he does feel resentment. He does feel it is unjust Terry got a happy ending too. Where's his comeuppance?

― Robby Keene: Listen, Robby's here to survive, first and foremost: Whether he's in Miyagi Do, Cobra Kai, whatever, and he isn't here to form opinions about the Sensei's private companion (or at least, he holds back from doing so if he can help it), discouraging all the other students from doing anything but keeping their thoughts to themselves, as it should be --- especially with students he might have affection and a sense of friendship for, like Tory or Kenny. I think he would understand Terry Silver's an inherently very, very, very dangerous person beneath his amicable facade and that it is best not to make this guy angry --- not too angry, anyway. I think he's been surrounded by enough abusers throughout life to inherently recognize one, but he's also a teen in a bad, unstable situation, using whatever is given to him and whatever resources he can muster to make do and help himself, considering none of the adults would, so he intentionally ignores politely beloved and merely makes note of them silently in his mind, compartmentalizing them for later. Robby's smart and careful in that regard. I think Terry would, once again, understand why this is done because he absolutely reads Robby. He'd able to tell Robby's a tiny bit afraid.

― John Kreese: What John wants on the subject of Terry's love life is...no bullshit. He can sniff out fake relationships, fronting, advantage, posing, feigning, surface level nonsense and he has a sense of aversion towards it, naturally, having an immensely high standard for what he deems as loyalty and devotion, and we have Vietnam to blame for that, partially, raising John's understanding of what a connection is to extreme circumstances forged in war --- and forged in a different, almost romantic era represented through the puppy love he had with Betsy. He wants Terry to be understood and happy and have the ability to walk as himself, not wearing what John deems a mask, not watering or dumbing himself down for society, losing his edge and his fierceness (and allegiance to Cobra Kai), meaning that John can be ironically supportive even when he and Terry fall out, forming this innately and bafflingly complicated relationship where he wants Terry truly happy (by his definition) and also supported and embraced at his darkest. There's no half measures in love. You either are yourself or you ain't. If Terry cannot show himself whole to beloved, John will absolute throw a stink eye on this relationship. If Terry can be Terry (and as such, on John's side...or at least...on the side of everything John and Terry stood for), hey, John's in favour and there's a sense of acknowledgement beloved's good.

(A very important addendum:)

― Mr. Miyagi: Not necessarily a Cobra Kai character because he's no longer alive at the time the show takes place, unfortunately, but circa the 80's, I think he'd have an odd, silently dignified contentment to know Terry Silver is genuinely loved, in spite of Terry's own antagonism, vengefulness, prejudice and even violence towards himself and Daniel. It is ironic, considering Terry's goons busted up Mr. Miyagi's shop, ruined his business, abused his student, nearly caused a wedge between him and Daniel, but I still think he'd feel Terry deserves love more than anyone else, regardless of everything --- maybe precisely because he's a bad man and he needs it the most. Maybe this is a way for the universe to balance itself out in an oddly fitting way? The darkest of men receives the softest of care from someone. Perhaps, one day, somewhere, somehow, this love will ennoble Terry Silver, because nobody should be written off and love and peace are the highest ideals one can strive for and he should know, having lost so many loved ones of his own. If Mr. Miyagi would ever internally forgive Terry post tournament of '85, it is at the sight, from the distance, of seeing Terry with beloved and he'd know hope isn't entirely lost for Terry Silver. Mr. Miyagi undoubtedly never says anything to Daniel about this (feeling he might not understand), but it is a sentiment he'd keep to himself. It gives Mr. Miyagi an unspoken closure.

[angrelysimpping]

could you write bailey somehow getting trapped inside the loft (the orphanage being empty aside from them, maybe there is some sort of carnival in town?) and pc rescuing and then helping bailey calm down?...i am a fan of hurt/comfort

I kept rewriting this cause I kept feeling like I was making Bailey too ooc but they're dealing with past trauma so fuck it, they can be ooc =P

(Uh, angst; implied past physical/sexual abuse; slight dissociation [?])

A carnival was in town. The brats had all seemed excited. When Bailey gave their blessing, had let them all go out that day, had even given them some money for games, they were surprised.

You were surprised, giving Bailey a questioning look as you helped Robin round everyone up. But you still left with them, leaving Bailey alone.

They waited until the orphanage was empty to go up. Waited 20 minutes, just in case a brat came stumbling back in, having forgotten something. They wanted to make sure they were alone for this.

Had thought, if they just faced their fears, it would help.

It might have, if the ladder hadn't folded up behind them, the latch banging shut.

The panic sets in immediately, the sound dredging up long-suppressed memories.

They used to have nightmares about that sound, back when they still dreamed.

Bailey grapples with the latch, but it’s hard to open from the inside. Had been designed that way.

It doesn't help that Bailey's hands are starting to shake.

Bailey reels back, cursing.

They had managed to cut their palm open on the latch.

They've never had a problem with blood before. They've made others bleed, they've been made to bleed. It's common in their work.

Maybe it's the limited lighting in the loft. The warmth or the stale air.

Whatever the reason, Bailey feels light-headed as they watch the blood well up in their hand.

Detached, unreal.

It’s hard for Bailey to get to their feet. Body heavy, head full of cotton.

They end up in a corner, staring at the hatch.

They’re not sure, but they think they've been here before, in this corner. Oh, yes. Yes, they have. Look, there are the scratch marks. They remember making those. If they listen hard enough, Bailey is sure they'll be able to hear crying a room over.

Bailey never cried. Not before, not now.

What a time to leave their gun downstairs, huh?

Then again, would it even help? What were they going to do, shoot the latch open?

Did it even matter?

They’re doing their best to think, fighting the panic that thrums through their veins, darkens the edges of their vision. It would be so easy, to let themself be pulled into unconsciousness.

But they refuse.

They’re vaguely aware that they’ve started scratching at their neck, an old habit. One they thought they’d outgrown.

The feeling muted, barely there.

They're aware that it means something, something bad, that they’re losing feeling. That they’re going numb.

They should get up.

Anything. They should do anything. Anything that wasn’t just sitting here.

They try to stand, but their body doesn't move like they want it to. They sit again, letting their head thump back against the wall.

The sound is muffled by the ringing in their ears, but they can hear it, even if they don't feel it properly. That's good. They think. They're not sure.

Someone is calling their name.

It's a familiar voice, but they can't quite place it, mind hazy. They try to call back, but the sound gets caught in their throat. All that comes out is a hoarse groan.

They can’t process that it's you at first when you appear next to them. It’s when you start to say their name, pull on their arm, that they recognize you.

Bailey doesn't flinch when you touch them, so that’s good, they think. That they can actually feel you touching them, lifting them to their feet, guiding them towards the hatch.

Climbing down the ladder takes a monumental amount of effort. They have to go slow, struggling to grip the ladder properly.

The moment Bailey exits the loft, they feel a little clearer, a little more solid.

And utterly exhausted.

Now free from the loft, the panic subsiding, they feel hollow.

They want to sleep. They want to sleep for a thousand years and then some. And to never go into the loft again.

But they still have work they need to do.

Fuck, it’s going to be a long day.

Bailey starts towards their office, but you grab their arm, pulling them into the nearest bathroom.

"Fuck off," Bailey mumbles, voice thick.

"Let me clean you up."

They grumble but allow it. Might as well. Maybe it will help in the long run.

You try to get them to sit on the toilet, but they refuse. If they sit now, they're not sure they'd be able to get back up.

Giving up, you grab a washcloth and start to dab at their face.

They’d gotten blood on their face, at some point, they’re not sure when.

You're muttering to yourself while looking for the source.

They’re about to show you the gash on their hand, let you know where the blood came from. Maybe then they can get to work, put this all behind them.

But then you start to comb through their hair.

“Head wounds would cause more blood, but maybe if it was small-?”

You’re interrupted as Bailey leans into your touch, sighing.

When was the last time someone had touched them like this? With so much care? Bailey can’t remember.

"B-Bailey?"

They don't respond, wrapping an arm around you and holding you against them.

Bailey buries their face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. God, you’re so warm. And solid.

Fuck, if they don’t sit soon they’re going to collapse and you’ll have to carry them. They couldn’t live that down, even if you let them.

You're about to say something when Bailey pulls away, starts to move as if to leave the bathroom.

"You're bleeding. Your face-"

Bailey holds out their hand, showing you the cut.

They can see the relief wash over you as you realize there wasn't a hidden head wound to worry about on top of everything else.

They push past you, headed to their room.

They only pause in their office for a second before going into their bedroom.

They’re too fucking drained to work.

Bailey flops face down on their bed.

With their uninjured hand, they check the gun under their pillow. The cool metal is the only reassurance they need to allow themself to relax.

They don’t realize they’ve dozed off until you wake them, bandaging their hand.

Didn't they lock the door? Maybe. They can't really remember.

You’re muttering about how it doesn't look bad enough to need stitches, how they might still need to see a doctor.

You finish bandaging their hand and pause.

They expect you to leave.

But you don’t.

Bailey can hear you moving around their room, locking the door, and checking the window.

They’re starting to drift off again when you approach the bed.

Bailey reaches out, grabbing your forearm. They mumble something incomprehensible even to their own ears, tugging you into the bed with them.

You don't fight Bailey on it, letting them press you against them.

They fall into a deep sleep with an arm wrapped around you and their face pressed into your neck.

It's the best sleep they've had in a long time.

When they wake up, you're still in their bed. Sill pressed against them.

Their movement wakes you, and Bailey watches as a bush burns across your face at being in such an intimate position with them.

"If you know what's good for you, you won't tell a soul about this. Got it?"

You nod your head.

Bailey sighs before rolling out of bed.

They ignore you as they change clothes.

They're still tired, but they can't afford a day off. They wouldn't want one, either. After pissing the whole day away yesterday, they refuse to waste another.

When you flee their room, Bailey thinks it's all over.

They're wrong.

You show back up in their office minutes later in fresh clothes, holding a book.

Bailey stares at you as you make yourself comfortable in the corner of their office, but they don't chase you off.

Bailey knows what you're doing. Knows you're trying to keep an eye on them. They won't stop you.

They won't snap at you to get out of their office. You’re just sitting in the corner and reading, anyway.

Bailey actually forgets you’re in the room with them at one point. Jumping when you speak up, reminding them to eat.

They don't say anything as it gets closer to midnight and you still haven’t left their side.

Or when you follow them back into their bedroom.

[accessories-not-included]

I'm a drug user. 

Let me clarify... I'm a prescription drug user. In fact, currently I take so many pills that I need to have them sorted into multiple blister pill packs. 

Due to this I am unfortunately too familiar with my pharmacy. 

I've known my pharmacists for over a decade as well as most of their assistants. So when I call they often recognize my phone number. With that said there's a lot of trust built into the relationship between them and me.

A few days ago I called the pharmacy to get a refill on my medication. They promptly informed me that my medication had not been approved for refills by my doctor. 

Like most patients with chronic pain, upon hearing this news, I fantasized about numerous scenarios. All which were increasingly horrific in nature. Fantasies such as: putting doctors into various, elaborate, Jigsaw traps. Then me flickering the overhead lights on and off frantically, throwing my head back and cackling with gleeful anticipation. All the while my thoughts bask in satisfaction knowing that these doctors might finally know what it's like to be at the mercy of a gatekeeping sociopath.

On the other hand, upon hearing that my prescription wasn't approved I also panicked. Then quickly called the doctors office to resolve the issue. I soon discovered by talking to the Clinic Lead that I wasn't approved for a refill because I had "missed" my last appointment. Correcting her I replied, "No I rescheduled the appointment". 

For reference:

I had rescheduled the appointment because I have to rely on alternate transportation which is typically unreliable. In this case, the person that usually assists me with transferring to my wheelchair had a previous obligation that changed her schedule. Because of this I had no one available to help me transfer into my chair so I could make the appointment. 

After explaining all of the previously mentioned information to the nurse I assumed it would make sense to reschedule the appointment. 

Apparently, it doesn't matter if you reschedule or not. If by the initial appointment, you're not physically in front of the doctor they won't approve any medicine. 

I wasn't aware of this before and this is a problem. The medicine my pain management doctor prescribes aids in preventing my seizures, trimmers, spasms, constant pain, overactive nerves, and overall sensitivity. I can't participate in therapy without the medicine. I can't go to my appointments without the medication. The moment a medical professional weaponizes medication used to treat chronic conditions that dramatically affect the life and well being of a patient you know they're gatekeeping. 

This is dangerous. 

If you have ever felt as if you cannot function without the care that doctors provide you are not alone. Physicians have an inherent sense of God-like-complexities. This infectious plague of "Mean Girl"-like arrogance is fueled by a continuously failing healthcare system that gatekeeps patients who otherwise would struggle to survive.

Physicians have an ethical responsibility to their patients to offer the best available medical care. Through the power of their prescriptions and orders for tests and procedures, physicians are the de facto gatekeepers of medical resources. In the era of health maintenance organizations and the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (ACA) physicians practice parsimonious medicine. The Choosing Wisely campaign orchestrated by the American Board of Internal Medicine Foundation encourages doctors to limit the use of minimally beneficial services. The Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute aims to compare the effectiveness of different treatment options to allow physicians to choose the most beneficial and effective care for their patients. What is the right thing to do when a patient requests services that are judged by the physician to be unnecessary like refilling prescriptions?

Here's the ugly truth. The healthcare system isn't about patient care. It's about money and politics. The entire medical system is one big Monopoly game set up to benefit the old-white-guy with the top hat. If it was about patient care then doctors would focus each case on the individual's needs. Instead, doctors sit on their throne of textbooks and store-bought degrees, choosing to play God by deciding who thrives and who suffers. 

This is not the worst part. The worst part of all this is that we, the patients created the monster. 

The very basic dynamic of doctor-patient relationship is a play of the "Have's" vs the "Have nots". Patients come to see doctors because they need help and doctors can offer help they can't receive elsewhere. The dependence on assistance goes one way and this can easily translate to a position of power for the monster (i.e. the doctor).

There’s also the flattering position of generally being knowledgeable. Doctors have medical education. This provides them with confidence in knowing how to answer questions with what the patient will most likely believe as truth of their condition. The patient is assumed to have little to no knowledge of their condition. As such patients must solely rely on the doctor's opinion. 

But why? It's not like doctors themselves figured out all of medicine.

To quote Isaac Newton: “If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Doctors owe their knowledge to generations of global collaboration, not their IQ.

And as for that sense of importance, on average there’s about 3 doctors per 1000 people in the Western world - if one individual doctor simply vanishes, there will be many to take their place. This is not true for great innovators who shape the course of history. The work of doctors needs doing, but it’s not that special or unique of a performance.

In summation, patients are owed the right to have freedom of choice with their health. Patients are also owed care catred to the individual. Not care that is copy and pasted to cater to insurance and politics. 

[cherry-gemz]

Summary: This is a continuation of the movie Before We Go and my interpretation and imagination of an A/U. Brooke is you (Y/N) and Nick is still Nick :)

Prompt: "Just admit that I'm right." for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabbles for Nick Vaughan.

Pairings: Nick Vaughan x Y/N

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: <2k...is this a drabble still? Oopsies XD

A/N: I watched this movie for the first time just last week. It's now one of my top 3 Cevans movies! While I'm all for a romantic, serendipitous, spontaneous trope...much like Before Sunrise *no spoilers*, the ending was great, but I wanted a different spin. No pressure...yah, right! Either way, hope you enjoy xx.

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @tonystankschild @a-little-counter-esperanto

****************************************************************

You sniff and rub the end of your coat sleeve with your nose. Had to be the chill in the air, you thought. Not the fact that you just spent the most amazing and life changing night with a man you just met hours before and it was ending.

You stare out the train’s window; the gentle hum of the cart gliding across the steel tracks echoed in your thoughts. You shook your head in thinking that you made a mistake. I should have stayed...I should have told him how I felt…

“Nick. It's you again. Listen. I want to give you one more piece of advice. You're gonna be playing one night... Grand Central... thinking of every reason in the world to not go see the girl that broke your heart. Then, you're gonna meet somebody. And now, at first, she's gonna seem… icy. You're gonna know right away she's trouble. She's gonna take all your money. You're probably gonna get punched in the face. But stay with her; you're gonna need her a lot more than she needs you. And at the end of the night, you're gonna want to say some things, but don't. Don't ruin it. It's nothing she doesn't already know. Just give her a kiss. Wish her good luck. And thank her. Thank her for showing you that you can love more than one person in this life.”

He was unbelievably charming. You said so yourself. His raw talent with the trumpet was beautiful and different from what you were used to. The suburbia of the Boston bubble was what you were forced to live in now. You were from London, you were cultured and refined. Sure things with Michael were exciting at first, but the ho hum of the daily diatribe of routine became loathsome. Dépaysement. But you still never wavered in your marriage. Unlike Michael who had crossed that sacred line and lost your trust. It wasn't even fully the physical aspect that he went to another woman. It was the intimacy of telling her his deepest desires and then some that hurt the most. That he would want to share that with anyone else but you. But tonight. Tonight was what made you see clearly.

"It's possible, isn't it? It's possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else," you asked as you bit your lip.

"No, no, see, I think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else."

You found yourself blushing and cupping your cheek in thoughts of Nick. He was right. The whole night was a cluster mess of you trying to get home before Michael so you'd be able to throw away that wretched note. That he'd come to his senses and forget Linny. That he'd realized he was a fool and you'd start over. Just like old times.

However, slowly that feeling of reconciliation faded away little by little as each hour in the city passed. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but somehow the scrappy trumpet player Nick Vaughan etched his way into your icy heart and left an impression and stayed.

His fluffy, dark hair - so soft and inviting for you to rake your fingers through it was enough to drive you mad. His scruffy beard, which tickled when you kissed. You already loved ghosting your palms over it softly and imagined being able to do it whenever you wished. He said earlier into the night you weren't his type; you scoffed, but we're annoyed that it bothered you. You were a classic model of what guys were into, looks wise. Sure, your attitude was what rubbed some people the wrong way, but Americans really were too sensitive.

He however...he was the full package. Every toothy grin, wink, and full hearty laugh. He was addicting. He was a dead ringer for a heartthrob, but you also couldn't hate the guy for it. He was the friend you'd call to bail you out of jail at 4am and the boyfriend that you could see settling down with. It was nauseating really.

And then his lips. His soft lips...you can’t believe you kissed him in the hotel room. And then again at the train station. But you would have kicked yourself for not doing so in the first place. The way your fingers interlaced themselves on his terry cloth robe, how desperately you wanted to press your body against his. All you wanted was for him to feel that burning need within the apex between your thighs and extinguish it all night. But it was more than that, he was what you were missing. But you were kidding yourself. You weren’t running to Michael, you were running away from Nick.

But why? Because of the unknown? Because he actually knew who you were deep down inside? How could a man you barely knew, change you? Change what you thought was true, what you thought was love?

You dove your hand into your wool jacket’s pockets to push any thoughts of self-doubt, when you realize there was a piece of cardstock. You were puzzled to find it and immediately smiled in recognizing the hotel survey card. You bit your lip as you read down the survey questions one by one and notice Nick’s handwriting at the bottom, ‘turn over’ with an arrow.

Curious you turn over the hotel card and he’s written the word ‘yes’. Yes? You furrow your brow and contemplate further what he would be saying yes to. You think about the night - the time at the bar, helping him with Hannah, when you went to the psychic reading. Yes? What in the world - and then you turn the card back over and realize that on the second to last question it asked “Will you be likely to return?”

None of the boxes are checked, but he’d written ‘yes’ on the back. Yes. Yes he’ll return? Where? To the hotel? But when? You look up and rush to think about stopping the train dead in its tracks to return back to Grand Station. You breathe out heavily and come to terms that this isn’t a movie. He’s not chasing you down the tracks, jumping on the train to find you. Or is he? You wouldn’t put it past him. The whole night was filled with serendipitous concourses, this would be icing on the cake. You dart your head around to see if he’s in the cable car. It’s like in every rom com movie ending, the man of your dreams will be right there. He’s somehow charmed his way into boarding the train and found you waiting like a princess in her high tower. The train car is dark and bleak, only a few passengers are riding it as it’s the first route to Boston on a Sunday. You peer over to see if he’s in the next cart, but alas he is not. You slump in your seat and rub your thumb methodically over his words.

"Have you ever had a feeling that somebody was going to play a major part in your life?” you ask.

“Yeah."

“Do you know the most interesting thing about hotel art? It's what's on the back.”

It’s then you realize you have to return to New York. This story wasn’t about you and Michael anymore. No, it was about the man who selflessly helped you while you were in need, not only at your dire hour, but metaphorically as well. This was meant to be. You were meant to miss your train, break your phone, and meet the handsome man named Nick Vaughn. You knew he’d still be in the city because of his audition for the day with Duke at least, if you could just get to him somehow...

*

Your knees bounced as you sat on a cushioned chair in the hotel lobby. You had planned to wait there all day, but then realized the $13 train ticket was your only way of providing you security back home. So you went home. Confronted Michael. Cursed, cried, and then relief rushed over you as he had read your letter and how you knew about the affair. How you wanted to throw fists on his chest and tell him how much you hated him. But once you saw him, you found it didn't matter to you anymore. Someone else was worth fighting for. Your marriage was over. The hatred and spite you once had for your husband had dissipated. Your world didn't end like you thought it would. This wasn't your only chance at love. You were choosing to be happy, whether it was with Nick or not. This was the first time you were going to jump without having a net.

And Nick was wrong. Michael didn't want to work things out, he was coming to tell you that he loved you, but that and he'd be returning to Atlanta for good. The house, car, everything was yours: Nick said so himself, you gotta be okay with not being okay. So you walked away. You made the choice just like the psychic said and took it in stride, you faced the music.

However now you found yourself back in New York. Not the once stranded woman at a crossroads less than 24 hours before, but the woman that made a choice. You were worried that Nick would see it as you running away again. Running away because Michael didn't choose you. But in reality you didn't choose each other.

Still without an ID, you took your car and better against the four hour drive to the city and hoped a cop wouldn't pull you over. You thought of the night in the hotel. The laughs, the closeness you two encountered. The playful and cheeky way he could make you feel seen. You were starting to get nervous, what if he doesn't show up? What if I missed my chance?

"I'm an idiot," you murmur to yourself. "I can't believe I'm here."

You stand up and realize there Nick was there in your path. He looked a little worn, obviously from staying up all night. But he had changed and showered from the looks of it, and his signature trumpet case held in his hand.

"Well look who it is. The biggest loser in New York."

You laughed and blushed at the sight of him. He slung his trumpet case over his broad shoulder and walked over to close the gap.

“Just admit that I’m right.”

"Admit what?" You ask as you find yourself touching his jacket sleeve.

"Admit that you couldn't get enough of me." You hitched a breath from his words.

"You can say that."

"I can't believe you came back," he responded. His blue eyes gazed into yours as he brushed away a tendril of hair from your face.

"I read your answer to the survey...on the back."

"The stay did exceed my expectations and I did say I would return," he smiles.

"And here you are."

"Here I am…" he pulls away slightly as he's reminded that you're married.

"I jumped," you replied.

He's taken back by your statement and furrows his brow.

"What? With what?"

"I told Michael it was over."

"Wow. I'm so...sorry, Y/N."

"Don't be. You said so yourself, at some point it was time to face the music."

He nodded, absorbing the information.

"Say what's in your head."

He shook his head and grinned,"I'm just glad you came back is all."

"Yeah? How'd you know?"

"I didn't. Just sure as hell hoped you would."

He intertwines your fingers with his and holds tight. Like a missing puzzle piece found, your hand fits perfectly with his.

"Whaddya say we get out of here?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I may know a place," he smiles devilishly and gives your knuckles a kiss.

You grab his dress shirt collar and turn him towards you. He runs his hands through your hair and places his lips upon yours, kissing you deeply. It's a kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after you part, neither open your eyes for a few moments afterwards and he embraces you tightly.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."