#my problem is i never know where to put things

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

The sad thing is, there isn't two issues here.

When addicts don't have safe, private, affordable housing, then they are forced to go wherever they can, including the buss stop shelter.

What separate solution to that can you imagine?

Station a cop at the buss shelter to arrest them? And do what with them, take them away and put them where, for how long, with what money? A night in jail? A few years in prison? If they died that would solve your problem, except it won't, because those addicts are part of other lives and starting an addiction is a painfully common way to cope with someone you love dying.

Same with the 2AM screaming and door banging and threats. As long as people with mental illness are thought of as dangerous, they'll be treated like criminals by default, not worth any time or resources to help. Just ignore them or lock them up.

That's not working for you though, is it. There's no one safe for you to call when someone needs help, when you need help with a situation you're not trained to deal with.

You know how protests bock streets and stop traffic? How some protests bring broken windows?

That's not a separate problem from the issue that got those people on the street. We can't solve our own problems by pretending that the pain of other people is separate from us.

I will never be safe until the people around me are too.

So I smile and keep walking when the guy follows me down the street yelling threats with his fists up. When someone bangs on the door at midnight.

My adult nephew shouts random insults while walking down main street, he cackles and breaks into a run, and I hope no one new to town sees him and gets scared. The people who know my nephew know he's never hurt anyone. They know that just the idea of hurting someone's feelings can send him spiraling, desperately trying to make it right. He's on mediation for depression. He does daily meditation.

But a stranger won't know that.

The people threatening me or making my hackles rise might be drunk, or having some kinda episode, or maybe just be an asshole, but I don't want them dead. I don't want them shot or tossed in prison for resisting arrest. It won't help.

What might help is

-the practice some places are starting, where trained mental health professionals and people who know how to deescalate are dispatched instead of the cops. People feel safer calling them. Less people get hurt, when guns and handcuffs aren't being waved around, when the only long term result isn't just a fine or holding cell. More people end up getting help when it's there to be given.

What might help is

-a program like one of my neighboring communities have, where there are purpose built houses people can live in for free and if no one's actively living in it for a year the place goes to someone else. Compare that to half the houses in my town standing empty, slowly rotting, while lots of the people where I live are technically homeless. Some live outside in tents at -50 F.

My grandma lived just down the street from a safe home for troubled adults. She could barely walk and was basically blind, and went to the little local store for her shopping alone. When my nephew visited her, for the first ever, he was SAFE walking down those streets too. People were used to seeing someone like him around. They knew there was someone they could call if anything happened they needed help with, and they knew it wouldn't end in anyone getting shot or locked up.

Strangers saw my nephew yelling in the middle of the street and stopped to chat about the weather with him. Can you imagine?

We're all getting hurt from different parts of the same issue.

Those of us dealing with unusable buss shelters and seeing someone be scary in public still have a little more breathing room than the people who everyone's told to be scared of.

We've got more social credit. We can make the people in charge listen. We can help fix this. For them and us. For everyone.

But not by saying there are separate issues here.

I wish there were a better way to talk about some hot button issues without pushing the hot button.

[date-everything-has-taken-over]

Hi hi hiii I wasnwondering if u could do a fic thing where reader is basically dating most dateables n one day they (the reader) basically ends up feeling extremely sick from not taling care of theirself properly, running around to fix stuff, starting a new part-time job, going out with new friends. Could some of the characters included be dorian, eddie & volt, hector and whoever else? Pls and thank uu!!

Gonna add Barry and Betty because I think they'd fit in very well with this case (And they're my babygirls)

Dorian🚪

● One of the first to notice something was off

●After losing your job at Valdivian, you had gotten two part-time jobs to make up for it, and it was beginning to take its toll

●He was the kne to see you before you walked through the front Dorian. Before you would take a deep breath and put on your best, "everything's okay" face

●He'd try his best to convince you to give yourself a break and get some well needed rest, but you kept reassuring him you'd be fine

●Well, he was right. After one too many overtime shifts combined with coming home to help everyone with their problems resulting in many sleepless nights, you come home and practically collapsed in the front hallway

●"Right, that's it. You're taking a couple days off work and resting"

●Unfortunately, he's still the front door, so he can't take you to bed himself, but bedroom Dorian will take things from there

●If you thought he was like a bouncer before, you haven't seen anything yet.

●A dateable wants to see you. "Are you on the list?" "What do you need with them?" "You're not gonna cause a fuss are ya?"

●He even contemplates moving the hanks downstairs. Sure, they're usually in your room, but they're so loud. He gives them a stern warning (which scares them just a bit) and let's them stay

●He makes sure the house is safe and that your room is the pinical of peace

●"Autherized personal only" Dorian blocks anyone trying to get in, but especially the more rowdy members of the house

●"Darling, you never believe what I heard about Hoove!" Scandalabra tries yelling through Dorian, which was followed by a suspicious thud (I'm sure it's nothing to worry abt)

●Until he sees you're 100% better, Dorian doesn't let you out of his sight (not that he does that anyway). Going to the kitchen for chicken soup? He's got an eye on you just in case

●When you actually do recover, he's making sure you don't get yourself in the same issue and makes you promise not to push yourself

●"It's not just my job to keep you safe from the outside world, love." He holds you close to him, enveloping you in a warm hug. "I will always be there to keep you safe from all danger"

●Even after you're better and going back to work, he's checking on you every chance he gets, reminding you to eat and sleep at a reasonable time

●He may not woo with words as much as other dateables, but he shows how much he loves you every day by being a safe and reliable presence for you

Eddie & Volt⚡️

●Work was short-staffed, and with it being busy season, you were picking up extra shifts almost every day

● They know overworked when they see it, so when you show up to the club, noticeably tired, they clock you right away

●Volt takes a seat next to you, placing his lips on the side of you head

"You know we're always happy to see you, live wire-"

Eddie cuts him off

"-But you look dead tired, go to bed"

● Volt chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap

"Our live wire doesn't need to leave to rest, do they?" He brings you closer. "You can relax right here, live wire"

●After that night, Eddie stopped letting you help out around the club

"Don't worry about it, alright? You look like you're about to fall over anyway"

●Eddie acts tough, but he's checking on you and bringing you water every time you visit the Breaker Box after work

●When everything catches up to you and you actually do end up getting sick enough to take a couple of days off work while stuck in bed, they're both worried (and a little pissed)

●They've seen you running around the house helping everyone, fixing things around the house, settling arguments between other members of the house so they have a pretty good idea of how you ended up like this

●They check on you every day to make sure you're doing alright

●If you're not awake when they come by, you'll wake up to find a glass of water, Nyquill, and a note

'Rest well, live wire -E&V

●After a couple of days of bedrest, you return to the club, and they're happy to see you doing well

●They've both accepted you're too nice to say no to helping everyone in the house, so how do they remedy this?

●By practically keeping you hostage in the club for the next couple of days (Can't get exhausted again if they just keep you at the Breaker Box)

●Eddie still refuses to let you help out even if you insist

"And you get on me for not taking a break," he sets a glass in front of you. "Little hypocritical, don't ya think?"

●He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, keeping close for a moment before going to the back to do maintenance

●They may be busy running the club, but never too busy for you, and they make sure to remind you

Hector💨

●Also, very quick to notice

●He was very worried when he noticed how much slower you seemed lately

●Asks how you're doing multiple times a day. Never believes you when you say you're fine but he doesn't wanna push it and upset you

●Fully panics when he sees you collapse after walking through front Dorian

●The temperature spikes for a moment until he calms down

●He doesn't leave your side for a moment

●Takes extra care to keep the temperature at a comfortable level for you

●You don't even have to say anything. Ate you pulling the blanket closer to you? Heat up. Are you kicking away the sheets? Air on.

●He so badly wants to be there with you. To hold you and comfort you. But he's still terrified to leave the vents

●He's slightly soothed knowing Betty is taking very good care of you (but also kinda jealous)

●In the middle of the night, when he's sure everyone is asleep, he sits beside your bed, watching as your breath rises and falls

● He brushes your hair aside, admiring your beautiful face (even though it's sick and sweaty, he doesn't care)

●Before leaving, he gives your forehead a kiss. "Feel better soon, my love."

● If someone tried disturbing you or kept you awake, he'd turn the heat up in the room they're in to be petty

●When you're well enough to get out of bed, he's overcome with both joy and anxiety

●Joy because you're well enough to see him in the attic now. He can hold you again (and you can watch him turn bright red as you kiss his face)

● But anxious because, what if this happens again? What if the human keeps pushing themselves? What if it's WORSE next time?!

●He begs you to slow down and not push yourself too hard. To give yourself more free time and rest more often

●The look he gives you is like a kicked puppy, and you just can't help but hold him close and promise to take care of yourself better

●He clings to you for a bit before you leave the attic to go to bed "Rest well, my love."

● When you finally go back to work, he anxiously waits for your return, watching Timmy just a little too closely

●When you finally return, he observes your every move to see if you look tired or overwhelmed

●If not, good. But if you look any kind of distressed, he's whisking you away to the attic to cuddle, then practically dragging you to bed at the end of the day

●You're honestly a little surprised since he's normally not this bold face-to-face

●Even long after recovery, it becomes a new routine. If you come home tired, he's attaching himself to you koala style

Barry💄

● Well, technically, he noticed pretty quickly when he'd see you so exhausted every morning, buuuuut then he forgot and would notice all over again each morning

●Feels terrible when you come home sick and remain bedridden for days

●He's almost too nervous to visit you, scared you'd be mad at him

●"Are you feeling alright, darling?" He peeks into your room, "Anything I can do to help?"

●When you tell him you'd just like to hear his voice and that you love it when he goes on little rants about whatever he's obsessed with at the moment, his whole face turns red

●"Oh! W-well, that's, um, very n-nice, darling." He laughs nervously. He takes a moment to compose himself. "I 'm-I'm glad you enjoy hearing me talk. I'm happy to keep you company, darling."

●Since you're stuck in bed with nothing to do, Baeey is happy to keep you company while you recover

● He'll talk about just about anything that interests him at the time. Makeup, toucans, history, lions, movies. He's also happy to listen if you have anything to yap about

● If you're not able to shower, he'll brush your hair so it doesn't get too knotted while you're sick, taking care to be extra gentle.

●It's so soothing you send up falling asleep. He brings the covers over your body and turns the lights off, letting you sleep peacefully

●Before leaving, he leans down to kiss your cheek "Goodnight, darling."

● You may or may not have woken up with a lipstick smudge on your cheek, but you certainly didn't mind

●When you're feeling better, Barry helps you through your post-sick self-care routine. Warm bath, skin care, hair care

●Helps you with your bath so you don't fall asleep, definitely not because he wants to rub your soapy body noooo definitely not

Betty🛌

●She noticed right away. You've barely been sleeping and even when you do, you toss and turn all night.

●She tries to get you to come to bed early, but you're busy helping around the house. Then she tried getting you to sleep in, but you got called into work early.

●This repeated a couple of times until you stumbled into your room and fell onto her.

●She's happy to be able to spend so much time with you, but she wishes it weren't under such conditions.

●She holds you close, your head just under her chin and your face against her chest (awooga). She's somehow the perfect temperature for when you're cold or overheating.

●She'll gently stroke your head and hum softly until you fall asleep.

● When you wake up, she looks down at you and brings a hand to your cheek. "Good morning, lover." She presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'm afraid I can't let you go anywhere until I'm sure you're better." Her gentle voice makes it seem like a joke, but you know she's serious.

● You wouldn't have thought to leave anyway, you could barely move, and your whole body felt achy but more importly Betty was just so damn sweet and comfortable.

●Ngl it's mostly sleeping and cuddleng with you and occasanaly getting food

●When you finally felt better, she convinced you to take an extra rest day with her "just in case"

Sorry, Betty's is so short! I couldn't think of much for her

[hedwig221b]

I recently realized that I’ve literally never read a teen wolf ff despite being a huge fan of the show and sterek. So now I’m on the hunt for a rlly good one to start with but I’m having a bit of trouble finding one that not only fits what I’m looking for but actually has good writing (no offense to the authors I just want my first one to be a good one that hooks me like Crimson Rivers hooked me into the marauders fandom😅)

so could you recommend me some that aren’t aus, not necessarily canon but canon is okay, werewolf or human stiles, with sterek (I do love a slow burn but doesn’t have to be), maybe some of your favorites?

What an honor to introduce you to sterek fanfiction omg! Here is a list of what I consider sterek classics (the canon kind), my beloved 💖

Hide Of A Life War by Etharei

“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning...” The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows by owlpostagain

“Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void. It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

Home by TheTypewriterGirl

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death. The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was. So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles finds a baby on the porch. It looks exactly like him. Well, this is awkward.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf. Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks. Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody. And it’s about time somebody told him that.

Pale Horses by Jana_C 

Being bitten had never been on his to-do list, but he could deal with that. Helping Derek Hale become a competent Alpha, though, that was so not in his job description.

Truth and Consequences by KouriArashi

“The place you give the Bite has meaning," Derek says. "Biting someone on the side is to make them your beta. It makes them your subordinate, but it also invites them into the pack with the full protection of the alpha. Biting someone on the legs indicates that you’re turning them to an omega. And biting someone on the arm, particularly the wrist, turns someone as your equal. It’s a mating ritual.” Stiles nearly chokes on a mouthful of granola. “A what?”

A Similar String by snarkatthemoon 

Strong bonds made for a strong pack, and he needed a strong pack. They spent a long time in silence, Derek thinking hard about how he was going to cement the bonds. It needed to be done, and not just because they had the threat of the witch hanging over them, but for the good of the pack. It felt like hours had passed by the time he came around; he had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving around on the couch so that his head was resting on Derek’s thigh, his long legs hanging over the arm on the far end. He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed and his heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it usually was, as if he was just on the edge of sleep. It should have felt weird, having Stiles in such close contact, but Derek found that it really didn’t feel weird at all. His head was a comforting weight in Derek’s lap, another anchor tethering him and keeping him calm and in control. . Or, the one where Derek meets a witch, gets his betas back, and seemingly develops a sense of humour. Also, Stiles is totally magic, manages to accidentally join a werewolf pack, and asks too many goddamn questions. What could possibly go wrong?

The One You Choose by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

Hold Me Close (I'm Falling Apart) by ajeepandleather

“Wolves without an emissary are naturally turbulent because their instincts are wild. Subconsciously, you’ve been balancing them, but you aren’t tied to the pack so you aren’t getting a balance in return.” “So, they’re bleeding me dry. Always knew they were parasites.” Stiles smiled dryly. “You’ll need to attach yourself to an alpha soon. There are risks for an unbalanced druid.” “Like?” “Well, a disruption in balance may show itself in several ways. It’s a disruption in nature, so nature will twist and alter in an attempt to right itself.” “What does that mean?” Stiles was getting anxious. The vet was avoiding giving direct answers and that never meant anything good. “You’re magic is heavily entwined with your will, and your will is parallel to your mind.” “I’ll go insane.”

Not Your Disney Romance by Wrennefer (Wrenegadeone)

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

spiderweb of lies by pineneedlepants

Derek gets a chance to gain his alpha powers back. The only one throwing a wrench in those plans is Scott.

Sparks and shadows by Nival_Vixen 

Stiles has to figure out a way to maintain a balance between his spark and the darkness inside of him.

The Roads Not Followed by SylvieW

Scott decides to leave Beacon HIlls with Allison and her father. Stiles is left alone to deal with the supernatural troubles of his home town, so he turns to Derek. Years later, Scott’s new pack is threatened, and the only ones who can help them are the Hale pack and Derek’s powerful mate.

It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.” “Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.” “Hey!” Scott insisted. “He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.

Running Up That Hill by maypoison

“Even before the pack joined together, Scott was trying to protect you. And he still is trying to protect you, even if it means leaving you out of all this.” Stiles does roll his eyes at that. “Yeah, but it didn’t work did it. I was still involved, and so was my Dad. We were nearly killed by Matt, and then Gerard.” “My point is, people change. Relationships aren’t always perfect. Scott's tried to kill me before." Stiles raises an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying that someone trying to kill you is just a small flaw in a relationship?" “We’re werewolves.” Derek answers with a shrug, as if that was a perfectly good explanation.

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Protect and Serve by MoonlitMemories

Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles?

The More That I Know You (the more I want to) by LadySlytherin

When death, in the form of hunters, comes for a family of Kelpies seeking refuge in the Preserve - in Hale territory - the Hale Pack is too late to save them. Before he dies, the male Kelpie presses a precious bundle into Stiles’ arms and begs the Emissary to take responsibility for it, which an initially reluctant Stiles does. When he agreed, Stiles had no idea what the sight of him with a baby would do to his esteemed Alpha, Derek. If he’d known, he might not have been so reluctant to agree.

Wolf Cub by moodwriter

A strange wolf is not supposed to touch another pack’s cub and that’s why, on a rescue mission, it’s Stiles’ job to take care of the wolf cub who’s curious about everything and everyone. Stiles is not used to werewolf children, and the pack is not used to Stiles taking care of a child. Their Alpha gets very confused about this, too.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist. Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope. He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles. “I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

I know you mentioned no aus, but it would be a crime for me not to mention these absolute treasures that are staples in sterek fanfiction experience. The characters are on point, and the writing is magnificent

Don't Savage The Messenger by exclamation

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange. Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters' stories would have him believe.

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.” That was a bad word. Not found. Have. Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment. One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. “What?! What was that sound?!” “You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. “Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” “Mike,” she argued. “Who’s Mike?” Scott asked. “Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) 

“Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more. “You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?” “It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.” Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes. “I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

Cloaked in Gold by kaistrex (weishen)

Stiles' world tilts, the bed dipping as a weight settles over him, caging him in. Growling. His eyes flutter open in distant confusion as hot air sweeps over his throat and he stares up at twin beams of gold shining inches from his face. Werewolf. Stiles does the only thing he can. “DAD!” The werewolf jumps at the sudden shout, blanketing him tighter, and it’s only seconds until his dad is in his bedroom doorway with Melissa close behind, flicking on the light. Stiles' mouth drops open as he stares up at the thick eyebrows, sharp nose and perfectly groomed stubble of a golden-eyed and fanged Derek Hale. - When son of the Alpha, Derek Hale, ends up in his bed in heat, Stiles decides to use it to his advantage and secure the Bite for his sick stepbrother. As he and his family are welcomed into the Hale pack, Stiles grows closer to Derek than he'd ever dreamed he'd get, but with the fanged Soulbite of a born wolf on Derek's neck, he knows he's just setting himself up for heartbreak. Derek has a Soulmate out there, and it definitely isn't Stiles.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth. “Not too close, he bites.” Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting. “He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton. The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.” “Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek. He looked extremely displeased.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

[masterlist link]

[blogficsesp]

I'll be waiting (ch. 4)

Prev |

When a wound puts you in the way of your almost ex-husband, the months without talking are over and perhaps it is the opportunity to resume your marriage or end it.

*English is not my first language

*Sorry for medical inaccuracies

Chapter 4

After the exams, you were waiting for Robby. The pain was bearable, but you wanted this to end. You were never good at waiting, and the messages on your phone about work related stuff were ending your patience. You heard a noise and raised your eyes.

“Hey, y/n, how everything is going here? Are we making your visit pleasant?”

You laughed at Dana’s salute. “Yes, of course, the best scores for all of you, especially for you”.

Dana came close, sat on the bed with you, and touched your hand. “It’s good to see you, even in these circumstances”.

You smiled to her, “I hope the next time will be with some wine and dinner.”

She smiled wider, “Of course, but first, have you talk to the police?”

You knew that it was required to talk to the police, the assault to medical personnel was a big problem, and it was important to file a complaint. “Not yet, but the security staff already talk with the police when they came for the dad, I think that they would contact me soon.”

She got up still with a little concern in her eyes. “OK, do you need anything?”

You took a breath and smiled. “Yes, get out of here”.

Both of you laughed. “Soon. See you later”.

While you were waiting, Robby was exiting trauma 2 with Collins by his side.

“I heard y/n is here, is she ok?”

Robby was still anxious but thanked that the staff was worried about you. Heather was now a dear friend, her heart always so big that when she knew about you and Robby, only said “you fit like a glove” and smiled.

“Yes, she is here, probably only a dislocated shoulder. In fact, I’m going to see if the results are ready…”

Robby approached the station and, on a tablet, reviewed your file, the results of the tests were ready, confirming his diagnosis.

“Yes, just the shoulder.”

Collins nodded. “Do you need help?”

Robby smiled. “No, thanks. Perlah could do it with me. Remined me, when the new guys would come?”

Collins knew that welcoming the new students and interns was not the favorite part of the day for Robby, even though he was a good teacher. “In two days”.

Robby started to walk to where Perlah was, still talking to Collins. “Right, well, this was a good case to learn, but whatever, shame on them to not be here now”.

Both laughed and parted ways.

After the reduction, Robby was putting you in a sling. “It would be a little difficult to make your daily activities, but everything will be alright in a couple of weeks, if something doesn’t feel right, call me or come here, we could check it out, ok, sweetheart?”

You were looking at your hand. “I was wondering how I’m going to work with my dominant hand restricted”

Robby looked at you like you were saying odd things. “Work? That’s what worries you?”

You nodded, if there was anything you two were alike in, it was that you both liked your work very much. “Yes, Robby. I need to work”.

“No, you need to rest. I’m sure someone can do your work while you recover.”

You looked at him, a little angry because if someone’s gonna lecture you about proper rest, it will not be Robby, the workaholic.

“We have a lot of work; the social service department is understaffed like everything around here. I cannot put that burden on someone else. You know how it is.”

Silently, Perlah got out, she liked to gossip, but this was an argument that she didn’t want to take part.

“Please, hear your doctor’s advice. If you don’t wanna listen to me, talk to Abbot, or I can bring you Collins or Mohan. They would say the same. I will bring Kiara, you can arrange something. Or I will call Gloria.”

You were surprised, Robby talking willingly to Gloria? Yeah, when the hell freezes.

“Robby, it’s not up to you”.

It was the turn of Robby to look surprised. He took a step back, but didn’t change his argument.

“Look, I know that I don’t have a word about your life anymore, but what you been through it’s not normal and you need to take some time off, please.”

You looked at each other for almost a minute in silence. You knew that he was worried about you, as a doctor and as a co-worker.

“I will talk to Gloria, maybe I could stay at home today and tomorrow, that’s all the time I’m willing to take.”

You committed to that, not giving up another inch. Robby swiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

“Ok, at least take those days off. But really rest, please.”

You half smiled at him. “Yes, of course. But I need to do laundry, cook, you know, the normal things.”

Before his brain had time to think about it, he answered you. “I could bring you something to eat now and later I can bring you dinner.”

Both were surprised by his offer. Dinner? After so many months without talking?

But the love that you still have for Robby was bigger than your fears and doubts.

“Well, in that case, sure. You can bring me dinner and give me a sandwich while my papers are ready.”

Both of you smiled, and there was a gleam in his eyes that you had missed.

He started to walk backwards. “Right, a sandwich is on the way.”

You laughed and waited for him.

You were dressed and ready to go to talk to Gloria. So, you walked to the nurse station to say goodbye to Dana. “I’m going upstairs, just wanna say bye.”

She came close to you and gave you a light hug. “Everything is well between Robby and you? Perlah said that you were fighting.”

You puffed. “We weren’t fighting, it was a little exchange of arguments. Nothing serious. But yes, we are fine. We weren’t on the same page about my rest, but we made a deal, and everything is as well as it can be.”

She laughed at you. “Sure, honey. Oh, and, lo and behold, your husband!”

Behind you, you felt Robby’s presence.

“Well, it was a pleasure talking to you, Dana, as always.”

She laughed while you turned around to see Robby.

“I’m going to talk to Gloria, already talked with my co-workers to organize the activities.”

“Good, let me walk you to the elevator.”

He put his hand on your waist, and while you were walking, every sound of the ED fades away. The only thing that you could feel was the warmth of his hand, his perfume and his voice. When the doors of the elevator opened, you stepped in.

“Thanks, Robby, see you later?”

“Sure, I’ll bring you your favorite pizza.”

And that promise filled you with butterflies. Maybe, just maybe things can change.

______________________

Taglist: @emma8895eb @li22ie2017

[mortal-ethos]

The first time I started figuring out my gender, I felt very fluid, but due to the rise in transmed ideology and being a kid in an oppressive household and society, I tried so hard to be a man. I thought I had to be a man, and I felt like shit because I constantly was questioning myself, constantly insecure, I did everything I was "supposed" to do and be as a "man" both by the standards I grew up with, and the modern standards I had begun to see and still continue to see amongst "progressive" circles (which was doing everything by myself and taking abuse from my partners because the idea of men standing up for themselves or taking a single second to themselves is pushed as abuse and laziness, so I just. Did everything. And took all of it).

I was the handy man, I Mended the garments, I cooked every meal, I cleaned the house and did the dishes, I was the only one working, I put aside any issues or emotions I had for every person/partner, I was constantly told anytime I showed emotion that I was scary or that I was wrong, that I wasn't allowed to feel the way I felt, that I made problems all the time out of nothing, so I stopped and when I would keep my emotions down during conversations I was told I wasn't talking like a real person, any time I tried to talk about mental health issues I was made fun of so I stopped, any time I had a need I was degraded for wanting something so I stopped expressing a desire for closeness and emotional connection while being told that I needed to talk about my problems more even though they were constantly ignored, I was my partners' wallet, I couldn't have my own interests and always had to engage others with theirs while mine were judged and belittled, not even getting into how much pressure there was on me to "look" like a man. I did fucking everything I could until I broke.

I used to think if I just was a Good Man, if I just did everything asked of me, everything I was told, if I did everything right, if I was only ever gentle and kind and vulnerable, I would be happy. The pain would go away, I could be myself, and I could make everyone else happy. I could show what a Good Man was, I could be better. And I tried so hard. But I broke. I wasn't a good man. I couldn't do it. I broke down wondering what was wrong with me. Why was it no matter what I did, it wasn't enough. I would never be gentle enough, kind enough, skilled enough, strong enough, communicative enough, stoic enough, happy enough, rich enough, I would never be enough. So I gave up and I asked myself, who was I trying to be enough for? For people that don't know me? For people that don't care about me? For people that would never understand me anyway? Why was I never happy, even when I did everything asked of me... Why was no one ever happy with me?

Why was I STILL NOT MAN ENOUGH.

So I said fuck it. Who am I being a man for. My gender shouldn't feel like a fault in my personhood. And I let myself sit with it for a while. I asked myself, why do I still connect with my womanhood, with the lesbian community, with girlhood, why is this feminine rage still inside me intricately entwined with my masculine transness? Why, when I talk about women's issues, why do I have to choke down saying "we" and "us?" Why, when I feel like a man, is it strongest when I'm helping the ones that I love? What about those days I feel like neither, the days I feel more connected to the moss beneath my feet, to the shadows of tree branches, to the smell of rain, to the sound of boots on pavement, to the metallic taste of blood, to the ones that wear masks? What about those days I feel like I don't want to decide, I don't want to settle on one thing, where I feel like the planets in orbit, all circling each other simultaneously, each rotating themselves? The days where I see myself on this earth as intimately woven into the fabric of existence, when I experience creation and make myself into a new person for that moment, a new color unseen, a new emotion unfelt, a new breath never shared?

I'm not a man, or not just a man. I'm not just a woman, I'm not just non-binary. I tried fitting my experiences, my existences, into one singular label. Into the label that was supposed to be right, the one that was easy, the one everyone else is. I felt like my gender queer experiences were a gender failing, a pathetic flailing attempt at transness. I wasn't man enough, but I had to be because... I thought that was my only option.

Anyone thinking being non-binary, being gender fluid, being agender, bigender, gender queer, is all just part of the process of eventually settling into a binary identity is so, so wrong. I am not lost or confused. I didn't lose myself, my transness, my queerness, in the fluidity. I found my way back home.

when nonbinary people discover they are actually transgender binary, i wish them all the best, but i cannot STAND when they dismiss their previous identity as illegitimate. sure, maybe it wasnt you, but nonbinary is still real and valid.

i remember when a nonbinary content creator i really resonated with came out as a trans man instead, he started saying that nonbinary is "only a stepping stone to being the opposite binary!!" and that its "just a pipeline effect and nothing solid :)" i had recently separated from my long term partner due to identity related reasons and i was feeling insecure, finding community online. i questioned myself for months then, forcing the idea of being binary onto myself in what was admittedly an ocd spiral. its not his fault but i feel if you make queer content you kinda owe it to your audience to not spread false and harmful narratives about it

this is exorsexism.

i've seen it time and time again that previously-nonbinary content creators come out as binary trans and suddenly become really exorsexist in their stance, behaviour, language. this stuff never hurts their following though and nonbinary people who point this out usually end up being accused of transmisia and "being too sensitive". meanwhile people act like our genders are time bombs.

[tojisteddy]

Meanie!simon who thinks the little attitude is cute until it isn’t.

cw: 18+ mdni, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, brat!taming, daddy kink, dad bf!simon.

Doesn’t know where you got it from, but that harsh click of your designer heal to the hardwood floor, string of blasphemous curses and a cute scowl. the brutes brown eyes twinkle and he gobbled it up. Loves the idea of you taking on some of his traits.

But you were pushing it, now atleast. Simon doesn’t mind giving you what you want. Hell, you don’t even ask most of the time, the man will just get it because he knows you so well. But lately, you’ve been storming off with a stomp of your foot mid conversation, rolling your eyes, pouting when you didn’t get that record you’d been pleading with God to get.

Simon can only let it fly once or twice till hes gotta correct it himself.

He’ll let out that deepest sarcastic chuckle known to man, eyebrow raised this time, watching you with your face all screwed up, your own eyebrows furrowing, fists balled up—

“Yor reallly cute doll, trust me.” He bellows, circling around the car with the brand new tire in his hand. “Keep the attitude act up though, I’ll fix your problem f’ya.”

It only makes you more annoyed, you dip your toes in untouched waters— “I don’t have a fuckin issue, it’s you who’s got the stick up your ass. I don’t even ask for shit, I want that damned record!”

you should’ve just shut your blabber mouth. Just this once.

You’d have you on your knees, your mouth as wide as it can, hand gripping your curls, and ramming his cock into your tight little thoat. He starts slow, let’s you take his member into your mouth till your nose is kissing his pubic hairs, then plunged back into you, till you’re unthinking,

“Daddy’s alllllways gotta teach you to watch that fuckin mouth, thoa’ I taught ya better than tha’ luvie.”

He almost never gives you time to breath, your hands gripping the back of his thigh as he uses you, his cock pulses and grows larger at the sight of you. You’re nothing but a mess, his cum mixed with your spin dripping down your chin, tears running down your face, mascara smudged, and those gorgeous brown iris’ staring up at him— oh you’re the prettiest thing known to man in this moment.

“Been fuckin bitchin at me when you just needed to put this slutty mouth t’ use. Come on baby, take it.” He groans as you moan around him, you squirm on the ground, your clit pulsing in your soaking panties.

He roughly pulls out, still gripping your hair. You coughing up a storm, panting and trying to catch up he pumps his dick in his hands, he grunts “Suck it kitty.”

You don’t have to be told twice.

And maybe it’s from the oxygen not all the way to your brain yet, but you’re completely dazed. Taking his aching red length into your hands and slapping the tip on your tongue. Your plump lips wrap around the head, sucking and slurping and taking every inch you can, deep, until you’re choking. Stroking whatever you couldnt fit in your mouth. You let your tongue follow the veins around him and then pull your head back and forth till you’re out of breath. Ditzy smile on your lips.

“Thaaaa’s it baby, look at you bein a good. fuckin. girl.” he curses, fucking your face again, throwing his head back at how warm you are around him, till you feel cock twitch, hot cum filling the depths of your throat.

“What’d’ya say?”

You hiccuped, wiping wash your tears, swallowing his release as the blonde stands you up, “Thank you daddy.”

His chest moves up and down, slowly becoming regular again. He brushes your hair out of your face, “Gonna respect your pa from now on? Yeah?”

You nod your head, eyes fluttering, your voice nothing but ragged. “Yes, sir.”

He gives a slap to your ass, sending you stumbling back into the house. Thinking, maybe he’d get you that fuckin stupid record.

The man couldn’t help but spoil is precious baby. The exact reason you acted up every now and then.

a/n: this was sloppy but 🤷🏾‍♀️ it was on my mind

most recent masterlist

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse @dollfwn @mims900 @lillybunni

[yeonbinwyd]

demon pact pt. 2

pt. 1 here

You’re on the verge of passing out but Yeosang is profusely apologizing still.

“So everything Wooyoung was saying was right? You’re a demon?” You question. He nods

“Yes 1 of 7. Wooyoung and I are the only ones that share. I saved him after our leader chose to kill him. Now thinking about it, I regret it.” Yeosang explains.

“I see..”

“I know this might not be the best time, but do you think I can stay? I still haven’t recovered fully. Wooyoung took most of the power and I need a bit more time.” He asks. Being with Yeosang felt good even if it was a short time. Wooyoung was unbearable but a good time still.

“Ok you can stay.” You reassured. He hugged you without a second thought. His warm embrace, settled your thoughts.

“We just have to be careful” he warns.

“I can come back…”Wooyoung fights back for control in an instant. Your eyes widen as you see Wooyoung holding you now instead of Yeosang. He cups your cheeks.

“Ready for more?” Wooyoung teases. You push him back instinctively causing his black wings to deploy like an airbag. They catch him before he hits a vase in your room. Wooyoung shakes his head.

“I’ll be back” he warns. They make the switch, with Yeosang looking guilty again. This was definitely something you had to get used to.

The next day was interesting. On your way home from work, you had felt like you were being watched. You had felt a pair of eyes on you but didn’t pay any attention to it. You managed to make it home to Yeosang.

“You’re home~!” He coos

“Yes! Do you think you can go to the store with me today. I felt a little uncomfortable walking home” you ask him.

“Of course. Was it someone following you?”

“No I just felt like I was being watched.” You confess.

“Yeah no problem. We can go right now if you want.” He grabs his shoes and extra shopping bags from behind the door. You both head out and his energy had changed. Just walking outside the apartment had Yeosang feeling uneasy. Not even halfway down the block he stops in his tracks.

“Why don’t I just pick up the things you need and you can rest at home.” He suggests.

“Oh but I like to pick out my own fru…” you start but Yeosang grabs your hand to lead you back to your apartment.

“Send me a text and I’ll get everything. Don’t worry.” At this point he’s dragging you back. Something felt off but you didn’t know how to pinpoint it.

“Ok let me give you some cash..” you take out a few $20s from your wallet. Yeosang grabs it without a second thought and dashes away.

Yeosang wasn’t sure how to describe it but he knew someone was there. Their aura was strong. He turned down an abandoned alley and made sure no one followed him.

“Come out” he demanded suddenly a tall figure approached him.

“Well hello brother Yeosang. It’s been a while” this man had been looking down to him.

“Where is she?” He questions

“What are you talking about?” Yeosang questions in return. The man had dark hair and it seemed like his skin was a bit pale but his cheeks were red.

“You know I don’t play games. There was a large power source giving off power yesterday. I was sent to investigate. I know Wooyoung was receiving it. His greed disgusts me”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Yeosang. Don’t play dumb with me. It’s best I find out first before the rest do.” The man gets closer to Yeosang’s face with a snicker. He knows he doesn’t have enough power now to go up against him. Yeosang is a confident demon though.

“I’m not telling you anything Yunho. There’s nothing to find” he says with his chest. Yunho has never crossed Yeosang but was prepared to with the amount of power he’d soon possess. Yunho took a step back.

“Ok I’ll leave you be for now.” Yunho turns from him and disappears without a trace.

Yeosang comes back to the apartment with everything you needed.

“Is everything ok?” you ask. Yeosang nods looking completely drained. He sighs while setting the bag down. He remains silent keeping to himself as he puts everything away. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for asking him to go out there. He looks at you and gives you a pat on the head.

“I’ll walk you to work in the mornings just so that you’re safe.” He said with a grin. You nod in agreement. You both lock eyes intensely causing Yeosang to come closer. You were turned on by his assertiveness but you weren’t sure if this was the right time. You began to unbutton your shirt while maintaining your eye contact. He sees your actions and watches you intensely. Yeosang couldn’t help it but his kind made him a weak man.

“I’ll pick you up too if that’s ok?” He asks. You nod back slowly. Yeosang leans in for a kiss and without hesitation you let him in. He continues to unbutton your shirt moving the kisses to your neck. He hungrily places soft kisses going down to your breasts. He gives them a light squeeze making you let out a low moan. He lifts you off your feet, ready to devour you. He sets you down on the couch, then starts to peel the rest of your clothes off.

“You’re so sexy.” Yeosang compliments while pulling away your underwear. He pushes your legs forward, having your knees to chest. You were a bit lost at this move but he knew how he wanted you. He starts to kiss your pussy lips. Lapping and sucking each fold with your clit, he then slips a finger in your tight hole. You let out a sharp moan this time. Yeosang continues with rubbing your clit and fingering you going deeper with his hand.

“Yes please.” You cry out. He then starts to kiss your neck, but it switches to aggressive bites. The deep finger fucking switching to two more fingers with an ass slap. He lifts up to be none other than Wooyoung with a dark laugh. Your heart drops but his touch was unmatched.

“Miss me?” He genuinely asks. You swallow your breath. Without a second thought, he lets his cock free, ready to penetrate. He pins you down, going in between your legs. Wooyoung keeps eyecontact with you as he slides it in. He wanted to see your face once you were reunited with his lentgth. Wooyoung slowly guides himself in causing you to shut your eyes tight, to get use to him. He lets out a hot breath againt your skin, satisfied at the sight.

"Moan for me. I wanna hear it louder" Wooyoung pushes againt you harder, elevating his thrusts. You moan for him with sharp breathes. He could feel the power building up in him, he couldnt stop. You could see his eyes turn darker and his wings projecting from his back. He was addicted.

He pauses suddenly, fighting back the urge to stop.

"No" he says sharply. Wooyoung comes to a stop, head down on your chest. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows to catch your breath. Yeosang comes back without missing the motion. Back in your neck like hadn't missed anything. You felt a bit off.

“I’m sorry I won’t share you today.” Yeosang whispers in your ear. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling more secure. He groans lowly as he pushes himself back in. He finds a steady rhythm, pleasing you with each thrust. It was sending you. Yeosang was so gentle compared to Wooyoung. He touched all over your body, taking in each plunge like it were his last.

“I’m close.” You moan clinching onto him. Yeosang picks up the pace, maintaining his eye contact with you. It’s so intense that you shut your eyes for a moment.

“Please look at me. You’re so beautiful. I need to see you.“ he requests while brushing your hair out of your face. You lock eyes with him once again. Yeosang’s face softens catching that glimpse of you. He can’t hold it in anymore. At this point, you’re going to burst too. You dug your nails into this back giving him permission to go harder. Yeosang let’s out a whimper so loud, you’re sure your neighbors heard. He cums violently but doesn’t let up until you do the same.

“Yes just like cum for me” he coaches. After a few thrusts, you tighten up around him. You match his yell with your own in pure bliss, nails still digging into his skin.

You let go and he releases his hold from you allowing you to rest. Yeosang goes into the other room, trying to get dressed. He spots Wooyoung in a mirror.

“Oh they’re coming now.” Wooyoung teases. Yeosang rolls his eyes in an attempt to walk away

“I hope you’re prepared to fight” Wooyoung chimes in before he’s out of earshot. Yeosang was a bit nervous at the thought of the rest of the clan coming but he was ready.

[nectardaddy]

BITTER . . . kyotani “mad dog” kentaro + f! reader

                     𖥔    CHAPTER SEVEN : WARNING    𖥔

warnings : 18+ to read, language, addiction, major mention of drugs, violence + fighting + threats, blood, allusions to and out right sex in the very beginning, very toxic relationships, manipulation, use of the word “junkie,” the beginning is a very hard read and yaku is an awful human being, please take care of yourselves, no beta not edited we die like men

Yaku's hands never leave her hips, and for a second she thinks she's melting into him. She's lost in the moment, almost dissociative, because it feels good - it feels right.

He texted her again that night; as per usual, she relented and let him into her bed. She's alright with it, the physical attention, it scratches a part of her brain that craves it. But the other only feels used and dirty; like every place he touches her leaves a film of disdain.

The blonde is unwavering and rough, like he's taking out pent up anger on her from below. He was always rough, grabbing at parts of her body like his life depended on it - she wished it did, maybe then he would stay afterwards.

She thinks she's into it, as completely lost as he is, until she locks eyes with him and she loses her breath. His eyes are glazed over with a plastered on tipsy smirk - utterly cold. She feels like throwing up, even heaves at the realization.

Yaku Morisuke showed up high out of his mind, and only god knows what the hell he took and what he still has on him.

He didn't come in high; she opened the door for him and he gave her a sober smile when he walked in. But he went to the bathroom about thirty minutes ago, and her face drops in horror at the realization of what he's done in her apartment.

Her eyes go wide and she stops, heart growing weary and mouth going dry. “Are you high right now?” Her voice is quiet, and he hears him groan through a labored breath.

“No.” She can tell he's lying, knows all his ticks and quirks - he scrunches his eyebrows when he's lying, is giggly when he has something to hide, and bites his lips until they bleed when he's angry.

She takes a sharp breath in and gets up, throwing on the first shirt she sees and rummaging through the rest to find what's his. She hears him sit up, the bed creaking as he looks confused when she throws his things at him.

“Get out, Morisuke.” Pointed and direct - angry. Any ounce of pain she felt about the situation was diminished when she thought about it. The man knows she's six months clean, knows that she wants to stay that way, and knows how hard it took to get where she's at now. But still, he chose to get high in her bathroom and fuck her like she wouldn't be the wiser.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He rolls his eyes and puts his shirt on with a huff.

“My problem?” She bites, “you're the piece of shit who took something in my bathroom!”

“Jesus-” he groans. But he's accepted he's being kicked out, and throws his shirt on with a sigh. “You're crazy, why the hell would I-”

“Cut the shit!” She cuts him off with a huff, but her voice wavers at the end. She doesn't want to believe it - Yaku was a good person - but knows exactly what he's trying to accomplish. She can feel the heat rising to her face as she looks over at him. He's dazed, completely checked out, and she can't decide whether to burst into tears or rip him limb from limb. “Where is it?”

He pauses, maintaining eye contact with her as he bites his cheek. She can tell there's something eating away at him, the way his eyes swirl with discontent. “Where's what?”

There's a moment where she wants to slap him, to march up to him and hit him as hard as she can. A brief moment of silence passes where all she does is stand and stare at him as the puzzle pieces click into place. “Get the hell out of my apartment, Yaku.” She says it under her breath, too scared to even utter the words with her full chest.

He gets up with a roll of his eyes, puts his pants on like he's in no rush, like he knows he'll weasel his way out of the situation he's in. It makes her sick to look at him anymore, so she turns her eyes down when he strides up to her. He's quiet, all too silent as he looks her over as if he was plotting something, before his hand reaches to touch her face. “You were a lot more fun when you were high.”

The sentence hits her in the stomach like a punch, even feels the breath leave her lungs at the words. It's like her heart has been ripped out of her chest, leaving a gaping wound and despair in the wake. But instead of anger, she can only feel sorry. Sorry for herself, or for him - she couldn't tell which.

She closes her eyes and swallows hard, gritting her teeth together to try and stop the tears that pricked in her eyes. She moves away from him, feels his fingers slip from her cheek. “You were a lot more fun when you were sober,” she whispers. “You were yourself.”

He sighs, she can hear the grumble in his throat as he mutters to himself, something incoherent but undoubtedly offensive, as he passes her. He's cold when he passes through her doorway, and silent when he twists the handle of the front door. “Text me when you want to have fun again.” He closes the door with a gentle click behind him.

“Don't count on it, Morisuke.”

The morning comes earlier than usual. And Kentaro groans when his alarm starts to beep, a familiar drone he started to hate every morning he heard it. He hits the top of it haphazardly, and prays that it doesn't go off again.

Anger management classes start at 8:30, but he doesn't get home until the wee hours of the morning. So every time he hears the wretched alarm, he feels a little more sleep deprived, and wants to throw it across the room. Wants to hear it break into a million pieces, so he knows he'd get a good night's sleep. Instead, it goes off again, and he gets up with a huff.

His eyes are dark and tired, horrid lines underneath them proving just how little he slept, and his whole body is sore. He can feel that he has a black eye, the tender skin making him wince when he dragged his hands down his face. Blue and black bruises litter his skin, and his jaw still hurts.

She punched him three days ago but the pain still lingers.

The bruise on his jaw is turning a nasty yellow color, no longer purple like it was previously. But it still hurts to the touch. And the thoughts of how he got it still dip and dive in the back of his mind every time he looks in a mirror.

He runs his hands down his face before he gets up, cracks and pops emitting from worn down joints. He shouldn't feel like this, he's still young, but he'd rather tear his body apart than go on living a life he thought was boring.

It doesn't take much for him to get ready, always makes it as simple as possible. Most days he isn't awake until two in the afternoon, but his crooked lawyer can't help him out if he doesn't help himself first. He has a simple routine that gets him out the door fast, today isn't any different.

He takes a cigarette from the pack when he closes the door behind him, and puts the rest back in his jacket pocket. Smoking was the only thing that made him feel relatively normal; not the criminal people would look at in the street with fear, and not the ringleader of an elaborate way to sell one's soul.

Smoking was the only thing that made him feel more human and less like a monster. Because, to everyone else, he was the demon that crawled up from hell. Sometimes he enjoyed the stares and scoffs from others, but majority of the time it made him feel inhumane - unimportant.

No one cared about a felon with a mile long record - and no one ever will.

Three more days and anger management classes would be over. No more waking up early, no more hearing about ways to manage his anger, and no more of the woman that punched him so hard in the jaw he fell on his ass.

No more of the woman who haunted his waking thoughts with disgusting voices that liked the pain.

He doesn't know why he cares so much, nor why his mind keeps circling back to her. He remembers the fear in her eyes at the warehouse when Yamamoto grabbed her arm, but fear shifted to a petty smirk the moment he handled it - like it was funny, like it was a game.

He liked how brash she was, how her anger felt like touching a hot stove, and how she hid it all too well. Tucked under a facade of skittishness and self loathing was a starved dog biting at its leash.

He knew better than to let the leash loose, but did it anyway. Now he has a busted jaw and not a damn thing to show for it.

He's the last one to walk through the door of the community center, the last one to open and close the door to the class that only makes him more angry rather than fixing it. He shifts his eyes over the room and they stop at her - she's sitting with Yaku - and he rolls his eyes.

He doesn't know how the guy is still enrolled in the class when he wasn't here for the majority of it; he doesn't care enough to think over it. But he notices that Yaku is a little too close to her, a little too touchy when he leans over to tell her something, and a little too smug when she laughs at something he says. And he's a little too proud when his eyes flicker up to him and give him a shitty smile.

He should've killed Yaku that night.

Instead of letting him go, he should've kept kicking him in the ribs until he stopped breathing. He wouldn't have cared about the repercussions, maybe then he wouldn't be clenching his jaw so hard his teeth might break.

He sits in the back by himself, tucked into a corner as he crosses his arms. He stares. He hopes he burns a hole into the back of the blonde's head because he knows Yaku only ever cares about himself. He always comes to the warehouse drunk off his ass, high, or a combination of both, and rattles the nerves of everyone in the place. He was an asshole who would only ever be in it for himself - not even Mad Dog could train him to sit and stay.

He feels something grotesque and hot stir in his gut as he watches Yaku lean in closer to her and whisper in her ear, he sees her swat at him; a shocked expression paints her features that he can only guess came from Yaku saying something foul. He bites his tongue hard at the notion and averts his eyes - the blonde was doing this on purpose, and he was doing a damn good job of it.

He lets his mind wander to what he could've said in return; what he could've said to garner the same reaction. Something profane that makes her pupils dilate in desire, and letting deep rooted satisfaction take hold of him like a vice. He imagined giving Yaku the same treatment, letting sinful words leave his lips and all the stupid blonde could do would be watch - he didn't want to kill him, not anymore, he wanted him to suffer.

The next two days the same thing happens. He walks in, he sees her sitting next to Yaku, and thinks of different ways to make him miserable, to make him writhe and watch, or to kill him where he sits.

But the last day is different.

She sits in the back, alone, with Yaku three rows ahead of her. Her hair is messy, like she just rolled out of bed, and she looks like she's been crying, her eyes dark and puffy. There's bite marks on her neck that are starting to yellow, he didn't notice them before, and there's a feeling in his gut that's foreign to him.

He sits down a few chairs away from her, in the back away from everyone else. She doesn't glance over, doesn't pay him mind at all, because she's mouthing something to herself while she taps her foot.

She's counting.

He can make out that she made it to 78 before squeezing her eyes closed and taking a deep breath.

Counting is one of things addicts do when they crave. He knows first hand, seeing all the tell tale signs from somebodies and nobodies alike - scratching, chewing gum, using toothpicks, and counting.

His eyes flicker back to Yaku, and the foreign feelings ramp up again as he stares. He doesn't feel the same lethal tendencies, he doesn't want to kill him or beat him until he can't talk.

The only thing Kyotani wanted to do was put him back on a leash and drag him down to the pits of hell.

He doesn't hold the door for whomever is behind him when he leaves the class; he hears the person curse him, but he ignores it. His jaw is tight, and he feels the surge of heat in his chest from anger - he was looking for Yaku, and he'd be damned if he didn't find him.

The windchill doesn't faze him when he opens the outside door, letting it slam behind him from a broken hinge the community center employees never fixed, and his eyes scan the area before he makes his way to the corner of the building.

Yaku hasn't left yet, not to his knowledge, so he waits at the corner ready to pounce like a predator starved.

She comes out first, in a rush, with her hands shoved into her old Nekoma hoodie that still had blood stains on the cuff from days ago. Her head is held down, solemn and tense, and he can't help but stare. He wants to say something, maybe something close to an apology, but he zips his mouth shut when her eyes flicker over to him.

It was quick, for a moment he thought he imagined it, but her eyes met his in a moment of curiosity. She was at her wits end, and looked as if she might start crying all over again, but forced her eyes to the concrete as she continued walking.

His anger bubbles over after that, and he bites his cheek hard.

Yaku is one of the last to leave, lazily striding without a single care or thought, with a cigarette already between his lips to light as soon as he stepped foot outside.

Usually Kyotani was, somewhat, rational. Would think through situations before they happened, to minimize any involvement from others. But that got thrown at the window the second he let his new found emotions get the best of him.

He grabs Yaku by the collar and pulls, “what the fuck did you do? Why the hell didn't she sit with you?”

Yaku's cigarette falls to the ground at the yank, now finding himself on his tiptoes from being pulled upward. “What?!” But there's a lack of urgency within the man, a strange sense of indifference as Mad Dog watches him smirk. The blonde's eyes cut over to the woman walking away, now far down the street, a familiar face to the both of them. “Oh? This about your new puppy?” He sheets, and goes to pull Kyotani away - he only yanks harder. “I dunno' what the hell her problem is!”

“What the hell did you do, asshole?”

Yaku locks eyes with him and smirks again, like he's got the man in some sort of trap even though he's the one being held. “Wouldn't you like to know?” He lets out a chuckle before breaking eye contact, “why do you give a shit anyway?”

Yaku pulls away again, and this time Mad Dog lets him. He grumbles as he fixes the collar of his shirt before going in his pocket for another cigarette.

“Because she's clean.”

“Suddenly the manipulator cares about sobriety,” he mused, “go figure.” He rolls his eyes before putting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it, “never took you as the pining type, Kyotani. Now look at you.”

“That's not what this is, jackass.”

Yaku glances over to him, scrunching his brows seemingly trying to see the gears turning in Mad Dog’s mind. “Yeah? Then what is it?”

“A warning,” he bites. “Leave her the fuck alone.”

The blonde snorts, smoke from the cigarette leaving his nose when he does. “I wouldn't get your hopes up on training her to be your little lap dog. You think you know her, but you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. She's still just a junkie at heart.”

“So what does that make you, short stack?”

“Still a junkie,” he shrugs and looks at him again. There's a level of cockiness in his eyes that makes the man want to kill the blonde where he stands. “But at least I'm a junkie with the only thing that you want.”

“Stay the hell away from her, Morisuke.” There's a lethal seriousness behind his words, one of which makes Yaku falter before he falls right back into the same nonchalant attitude.

“Or what, Kentaro? You'll kill me?”

“I'll put you on a damn leash again.” 

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[stygiusfic]

this post got around a fair bit more than the handful of notes i could have expected! i originally made it as a reminder to myself of what has worked for me, because in the past when i've been trying some new habit and then broken it/lost momentum for a few days, it's easy to feel like once i've fallen off the horse i'll never get back on it.

i've been on and off and back on this particular horse consistently over the past few months, and i'm reblogging to say:

the best method is the one that makes you excited to write.

a fair number of the notes are some combination of "i should try this". like adding it to a to-do list. and i know this may not be the intent but the best thing you can do for yourself is to get rid of "should". throw "should" in the garbage.

"should" cannot apply to things you do for enjoyment. "should" is for obligations, for tasks, for the watchful pressure of The Correct Way to Do Things. "should" is not for things you look forward to doing; "should" is for things you look forward to having done.

but 99% of writing is the "doing" part, so you kinda have to look forward to it and find joy in it, otherwise why bother?

i know that's easier said than done. believe me, i'm still in the trenches. but on those days when i can't hype myself up for the "doing", it's more fruitful in the long run to be kind to myself and give myself the day off, without blame, without shame. and that means there is fewer negativity associated with writing, for me, so i can enjoy it more on the days i do want to do it.

seriously, if you take nothing else away from the method in my initial post, take this:

figure out at what point in the day your mind is best able to focus and enjoy being creative without outside pressures. it's early morning for me, but could be late at night or during your lunch break for you.

doing other stuff, especially physically active, while puzzling out problems does help. a staring contest with the blinking cursor on your document will NOT help, in fact it'll do the opposite, you won't solve it and you'll only build frustration (bad feelings you'll associate with writing, that will make you less likely to want to write). so many times i'm stuck on a sentence and i get up to take out the trash or do dishes and the solution comes to me.

figure out how to increase the positive feelings associated with writing. for me that's daydreaming at other times so my excitement is at the forefront of my mind when i sit down. you may prefer to put on a specific playlist or light a candle. whatever works!

you can skip any number of steps, if they don't help you. i'm not the boss of you. tailor your experience.

if you miss a day, or a week, or a year, you aren't a failure. that horse will be there waiting patiently for you to get back on it. (i fear this is where the analogy breaks down, considering... horses).

in order to succeed, you need to set yourself up for success, the way that works for you. it can take a while and a lot of trial and error to figure out how to set yourself up like this, but it's worth it.

good luck, and happy writing!

early morning writing hack (real) (it's been working for about a month now):

think about the scene you're going to work on that morning not when you sit down to write, but the previous evening. this is daydreaming but with purpose. think about what might happen and how the characters feel about it. get excited. don't write a single word.

go about your evening normally, doing whatever else you do. your subconscious is a slow cooker and while you do other stuff, it's working on your idea for you.

get up early, like an hour before you'd need to start your day if you were cutting it close. everyone else in the world is snoozing their alarm, so no one can bother you rn. you're free! no one can judge your writing, not even you!

(optional i guess but it really helps me) unless the first few words of your scene are already clear in your mind, warm up. I've abandoned the idea of warm-up drabbles or whatever the hell people recommend. instead, I pull up a story by someone whose writing I love, and I type out a fragment of it in a blank doc, reading the words out loud as I go. this wakes up my writing brain as I become aware of how their prose and dialogue work their magic, when and where they reveal new information, how each detail leads to the next. I'd advise doing this with work that is of high quality and purposeful, so you can learn their tricks, but I'm not the boss of you.

write!!!!!!!

don't stop to judge if it's good or not!! it's too early for that shit!! if the draft sucks you can fix it later but you need the draft done first!!

do stop once yesterday evening's daydreaming prep has run out and you're out of steam. (sometimes the momentum can reveal the next part of the story you hadn't actively considered yet, but don't depend on it.) if you hit a wall where you have no idea how to continue, or it's still too vague to put words down, trying to push through will only bring frustration. and even if you do manage to write a bit more, the chances you'll end up scrapping it later because it doesn't fit are significant. just call it there, you're done.

take a minute to appreciate what you accomplished. you now have words you didn't have yesterday. you won the day, and meanwhile everyone else is still asleep, the absolute losers

if you use a word tracker, go ahead and input your word count for the day. maybe you got a lot done, or maybe you didn't; it's a victory either way. on mornings when I've been struggling, writing and then erasing and writing again, if I'm too pissed off to check the word count I just put down a symbolic number, like 50 words. it may not look like much, but when I look at the month's stats it feels good to have proof that I showed up and did the thing even when it was hard.

now you can start your day. and frankly at this point I don't give a shit how annoying my day is, because I already did the thing I care about getting done, so I'm not going through work resenting every task for stealing brain juice I could've used for writing in the evening. "I'll write when I'm done with work" is the ADHD hubris devil speaking.

and now it's the evening and you're free to daydream again!! and use absolutely zero brain power!! wheee!!

[zyafics]

i have a question (please don't misinterpret im JUST JUST JUSTTTT ASKING PLEASE DONT KILL ME)

why are you trying to stop people from writing canon rafe? its fiction, so not a gloification. im sure since we're all adults we can tell that men who act like rafe are DICKS irl. but... fanfiction is writing. witing is an art. art is an interpretation. rafe is... not a good person, but he IS an interesting character tho. writing fanfics isn't about being all about bad behavior but you're looking at stories and emotions from different perspectives. when one writes canon rafe even if its smut you're not excusing him being a horrible bitch. ppl write what's fascinating to them and it's a good way to understand very nuanced characters.

perhaps... you should know how to separate fiction and art from real life (NOT BEING RUDE.)

everyone is technically allowed to interpret a character how they want and you're knda trying to shut that down which just limits creativity and community.

if you or others don't like how rafe is portrayed in canon fics, thats cool and you can avoid 'em! but trying to shame others and telling them to only write fanon rafe is just unfair and not nessecary.

hi! i never try to kill anyone who comes in with genuine curiosity and open-mindedness so do not worry, you're off my list (for now... hehe)

why are you trying to stop people from writing canon rafe? its fiction, so not a gloification.

i'm not! i love writing canon!rafe. i love writers who explore the complexity of his nuanced characterization. i admit, here and now, and over and over again, he is a bad person. his subtext is filled with prejudices—classism, racism, sexism to his own sister—but i never excuse that behavior. i never hide behind the veil that just because you're writing canon does not mean you're not subjected to criticism. additionally, just because you write canon!rafe does not mean you have to romanticize the attributes of his character.

fanfiction is writing. witing is an art. art is an interpretation.

you're right! fanfic is writing. fanfic is free. but that doesn't make absolve it from its problem. that's the beautiful thing about complex topics. two things can be right at once. you can write whatever you want. but that doesn't mean you're free from the criticism of your own writing. i strongly stand by that.

you should know how to separate fiction and art from real life (NOT BEING RUDE.)

i do. fiction and art are separate from real life. if you were here a while back, i even wrote a thought piece on rape and non-con in fanfic. i was advocating for people to have the right to write them. i explained, in explicit detail why people write it the way that they do. but i still stand by what i believe: just because you write a taboo topic, and you're in a fanfic space, does not mean you are absolved of the consequences and callouts of the interpretation of your fics by your audience. intents ≠ actions. and to completely disassociate those two, if you really want to be nuanced, is impossible. i remember reading an article where a serial killer admitted that he got some of the ideas for his murders from a skywars movie: the scene where leia was held up in chains. it was meant to be misogynistic and demeaning; so art and media do have an impact on real life.

everyone is technically allowed to interpret a character how they want and you're knda trying to shut that down which just limits creativity and community.

the thing is, i'm not. never once did i told them to stop writing it. i said to address it. the problem i have with it is the inherent romanticization of the characters. i have read dark, dead doves do not eat fics with rafe cameron, and i never called out those writers. why? because they never framed it as something readers should want. the audience should like. the audience should accept. it was narratively framed as wrong. that's how you go about writing a nuanced character with taboo topics. when you're putting misogynistic!rafe into a setting, and you framed it through a rose-colored glass, where it's actually acceptable, endearing, and romantic, that's the problematic aspect of it. you didn't do your due diligence as a writer to address that.

if you or others don't like how rafe is portrayed in canon fics, thats cool and you can avoid 'em! but trying to shame others and telling them to only write fanon rafe is just unfair and not nessecary.

i do avoid them. i don't read them. i didn't even @ any of the writers. this was something said in my own blog, in my own space, using the general rafe tag as anyone else. you coming onto my blog to tell me to avoid this was unnecessary. i did. if you're applying the same logic of your argument to me: you're coming into a space where you should've avoided my words. you should've "avoid" me. you wanted to come on my blog to let your feelings be heard, and i'm hearing them. but don't ever say that i didn't do my own due diligence. i did.

[thatneoncrisis]

i would loooooove to hear more abt ur opinions on kpop demons... i will admit i didnt like the movie overmuch but the vibes of your idol (the final villain song) have me by the throat

also bird with a little hat =]

uuuh ok compliment sandwich. also spoilers if you havent seen it go do that

the only songs i didnt like outright were soda pop and the ballad between rumi and that boy, and even soda pop is an earworm so it was doing its job. i dont listen to kpop ever so as an outsider it was pretty good

i thought the autotune on the first song of the movie was way too harsh, i also didn't think golden was great as a This Is Our Magnum Opus song

however they topped it with This Is What It Sounds Like so i can excuse it

the humor felt really Really babyish, like young elementary school and i never really got adjusted to it. just a lot of yelling and "hey look its hot women doing gross things like eating a lot and. yelling" it felt like the worst of butch hartman at times

it never felt like the movie was Trying to purposely trick me or do a subversion but there were still moments where i was suprised. like i did not think this thing had the balls to kill the love interest permanently

i retched openly every time those damn boys were on screen. sorry for being a hater lesbian or something i could not pretend they were cute they were so nothing to me

that tiger was perfect my friend and i cheered every time he showed up

the manager bobby and the stepmom felt like the shriveling vestigal limbs from an earlier draft of the movie. its so odd that celine isn't physically there like 90 percent of the runtime what is she DOING. it felt like they were setting up an arc for bobby to properly betray the girls but it just collapsed and he just flips when everyone else does

the fight scenes were a treat to watch, i was never a winx club kid but it was giving a lot of that

im gonna be honest when my friend and i first saw the glimpse of lover boys past we thought immediately that rumi was his daughter. "that was 400 years ago" completely ignored that but also maybe they had a magic excuse idk. anyway the point was for the first 3rd of the movie we straight up thought a plotpoint was that this guy was trying to connect with his long lost daughter but fans keep shipping them bc hes a sexy hunk. so simagine my surprise when they not only play the romance straight but the little girl was his SISTER. HELLO. this isnt the movies fault my expectations were skewed

the tagalog version of how its done clears. go listen to it right now

there were non comedic moments where it hit me that this movie is in fact for babies, like when the girls are talking about their insecurities and it is the most tell dont show shit ive seen in life like if just feels like this movie never has Time for anything. "im a problem child you guys accept me" IN WHAT WAY. YOURE FUCKING NORMAL GOD AT LEAST GET A SHITTY VOICEMAIL ON THE PHONE FROM YOUR MEAN DAD OR SOMETHING. they kept Teasing me with characterization that barely exists in the film like rustling a bag of dry kinble telling me its fresh salmon

the third act of this movie got me hype in a lot of good ways. rumi begging her step mom to kill her. the boys singing be your idol. the girls singing their new song ugh it just all came together i love dance fighting i love baddies i love music i love art and animation i love that ugly boy dying i love the new outfits i love a crowd of people powering up ancient magic i really FUCKING love turning red

rumis face reminded me of those online free to play make up games where you put masks and cream on someone with a unibrow and yellow teeth and pimples and rashy dry skin and make them look like 30 insta filters. i know this is literally what kpop girls look like but since she was animated and also standing next to her bandmates with more inique faces it kept throwing me off

every though i wish some things got more time i felt like this movie moved at a pleasant brisk pace. i was never checking my watch during a scene something was always happening. even the tonic man sets up the whole thesis of the movie

[moonlight-sonata99]

Project Red Room

Bucky Barnes x reader

A/n: now before yall have my neck, Cardinal is a fake name. Readers real name will be revealed later on, (that will be your choosing ofc) my fic my rules!!hehe:> enjoy the Prologue you guys. Im really excited to write more!!I proof read this but I spent a whole day of writing so...tmrw it is!!

Prologue

It started with a man, a man was all It took to ruin her life. Well granted he wasn't an ordinary man, he was a man with money, a man who would help the world at any cost.

Enter..her. She was twenty and was in dire need of a mentor, someone who looked to her and told her they were proud of her., and most importantly a drive to help the world.

He was that someone.

He called it Project Red Room,based off The Red Room in Soviet Russia and she was his first official subject.

The good news was that it worked. She worked. But in doing so he doomed himself, She became the perfect widow. But at the cost of his own life.

That was years ago,and Nick Fury somehow had gotten wind of her work, as a vigilante that is. And he took her in and trained her. She was a covert agent, doing the "dirty" work per say, taking out war criminals who committed crimes against humanity. It paid, and she might well get some use out of her training.

Now the only problem was that Nick Fury had gone out on a space mission, and he hadn't returned. Although she did find a hard drive that was labeled 'use against her' the file contained evidence against Valentina de Fontaine. And considering what she was being accused of (and what was being said behind the scenes) She knew exactly what the message was telling her to do.

Mel panted as she did her best to switch tabs on her tablet with a coffee in her hand. Seeing which appointment Valentina had next, with who, what exactly they'll be doing. The usual. Her heels clicked through the halls as she quickened her pace reaching valentines office, and she opened the door. "Okay im back-" she panted as she closed the door "we have a meeting at 2 with the press" mel said putting the cup on the desk and putting the tablet down as she ruffled though her bag.

"Mel, right?" A voice shook her out of her thoughts, as assistants eyes widened and her head darted up to the women on, what usually is valentinas chair. "Uh- where's-" Mel stuttered out her eyes darted around the room. "Valeria?" The woman asked, standing, her fingers fiddling with a pencil as Mel's brow furrowed. "Valentina?" The young woman asked. "Huh, I could've sworn it was valeria." The other women hummed to,

"well! Valentina has been...discharged, from her role." The woman said her gaze away from Mels. "I'll be filling in for her now, so anything thunderbolts-related goes through me." She started as she took the coffee and opened it as Mel started. "Urgh...just black coffee?" The woman asked as Mel nodded.

“God she really was a monster.” The older woman murmured her face scrunched up as Mel examined her, “and you are..?” Mel asked as the woman turned to her again.

“Cardinal” [Reader] Cardinal.”

It was…weird. Mel's thoughts just kept running into the creepiest places and the worst fates for Valentina. Most of all, who was this [Reader] Cardinal? Mel had never even heard of her and yet the women had taken over all aspects of Valentinas old job, and some part of Mel knew that this woman was bad news, so she stayed up at night looking at Bucky's contact. Did he even know about this change? Should she tell him?

“What are you thinking about Mel” [Readers] voice tore her out her thoughts as Mel looked up at her.

“Uh..I was just thinking about the appointments today.” The girl replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair as [Reader] hummed looking at files.

“I could imagine…that charity ball thing isn't too far away as well” [Reader] murmured in thought her attention on the file as Mel nodded as it stayed quiet the soft music played in the background.

“Is-” Mel stuttered out, as the older woman's eyes flicked up to her. “Is valentina dead?” She blurted out, eyes wide as [Reader] stared at her, the expression she was holding mel couldn't tell as her heart raced, what if she wasn't supposed to ask questions?what if she ended up dead in a dit-

“I killed her” [Reader] replied, stopping Mels thoughts as her heart completely stopped as [Readers] eyes stayed on her…”just kidding” the older woman smiled as she closed the files. “She's fine” [Reader] replied, chuckling as she walked past the young women Mel just sat there catching her breath

It just added to the list of questions she had about this woman.

She had tuned out the sound of voices a while ago as she stood by the food table looking at the variety of plates there was. [Reader] had already greeted most people that were attending the fundraiser, and hell if she knew if there were more. ‘Damn’ she thought as she plopped a small small tart into her mouth. ‘That's good’ [Reader thought as she grabbed one more and began to make the rounds for the night.

Making small talk, buttering up more investors that sort of stuff. What they spoke about she really could not care, to her their mouths just opened,

And she agreed. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mel said softly behind [Reader] to get her attention as the group turned to Mel, “your assistant?” One of the men asked [Reader] as she nodded smiling. “

“Yes, she's quite amazing really” [Reader] nodded as mel smiled and pulled out her clipboard, “we need to do the thing” Mel said urgently as [Reader] smiled at the men “Oh right, the thing. Sorry gentlemen I have business” she said, picking up a glass of champagne and nodding it to them as the men bid her farewell and [Reader] quickly sifted through the crowd as the two walked into a secluded hallway. 

“Thank you” [Reader] sighs out as she hunches down, her hands on her knees, and lifting up her heeled feet, “no biggie” mel smiled at her. It had only been a few weeks, but with attending meetings and rectifying some of the shady things Valentina did it was a stressful few weeks. 

“I'll be fine from here” [Reader] breathed out to mel, “go and enjoy yourself for a bit” she added as mel looked at her and nodded, her brows furrowed. But she didn't question it and disappeared in the crowd. 

After resting a bit, [Reader] leaned back up, her feet feeling a bit more better from the pain that hit every time she walked. “Okay” she breathed out as she stood straight fixing her dress as she walked out, a smile grazing her face as she nodded to people who looked her way. Faces among faces..more faces… until. She stopped for a minute as her gaze set on someone in the distance.

He was just like how he was on television, reserved and serious. His hair was swept back and he wore a black suit.

Bucky Barnes. She had heard and seen so much about him, or rather the winter soldier as Nick called his old self, white wolf, etc… his blue eyes were glued down to the floor as if deep in thought as [Reader] watched him all the stories didn't do him justice. He was handsome, he wasn't clean-shaven, and just the right of hair graced decorated his chin,he was very handsome....she had already said that.

“Mel” [Reader] called out softly, turning back a little but forgot that she had dismissed her. What was he doing here? Oh…right she had been so busy she hadn't even made herself known the new “New Avengers” ....her attention stayed on him. That was until he must've felt the stare because his eyes flicked up to meet hers but before she could even wave or anything, a voice called to her. [Reader] turned to see Sam Wilson as he caught up to him. 

“Ah I was wondering when i'll see you” she breathed out smiling, as sam nodded “its nice to see you too” he chuckled. He knew her position and yet they seemed to be on friendly terms as she placed her hand on her hips. Sam opened his mouth to continue to speak a voice called out his name and the two turned to a man, his hair was combed back and his eyes met hers and she stared at him. He was handsome,  she would give him that.

“Right, sams told me alot about you, i've actually been looking forward to meeting you” she smiled at him as Torres nodded a sense of shyness coming from him. "He has??" Torres breathed out chuckling a fond smile grazing the woman's face

“Oh right I don't think you two have met” Sam started looking at his friend. As the man on his left just stood there for a moment as Sam glanced at him and then back at [reader] who stuck out her hand. "We havent" she started, “[Reader], [Reader] Cardinal.” She smiled as the man shook himself out of his gaze. “Uh-joaquin torres.” he breathed out as a grinned graced sams lips as [reader] looked at Torres. 

“hey..you think she liked me?” Torres asked as they watched her walk away as Sam looked down, chuckling.

The trio spent some hours talking before [Reader] bid farewell as she walked away claiming her feet hurt from standing.

“She's way out of your league.” 

The night was almost over, thankfully as her heels echoed in the empty halls and she sighed looking at the paintings that decorated the walls of random senators, historic events..

“now thats just true man” 

“Boring right?” A voice murmured and her head darted toward it, it was him. But she quickly regained her composure and smiled. 

“Congressmen Barnes” [Reader] Greeted, “we meet at last.” She added as Bucky who had his head turned to the painting turned and met her gaze. He nodded shifting his position. 

“I thought..you couldn't attend this anymore,” she asked gesturing around them “Aren't you too busy leading the New Avengers?” [Reader] asked tilting her head, her eyes examining his features as his attention stayed on her.

“You know why im here” he stated as she turned to him fully. 

“You don't like me” [Reader] noted grinning as she looked down and back up as Bucky's eyes narrowed. “I don't know you.” He replied firmly as she turned back to the painting. “That's fair.” She breathed out with a smile on her face “Is that why you came here?”

“Partly” he sighed, turning back to the painting. “from what I've seen you don't seem like Valentina” he murmured, attention to the painting. Had he been…watching her? [Reader] thought as she glanced at him she pursed her lips holding in a chuckle. “You're right.” She replied, “I'm not like her.” The woman added as she focused on Bucky. Before starting

“ But rest assured,” [Reader] said before holding out her hand, “you're in good hands.” she finished as his blue eyes met hers, and they flickered down to her hands, before closing his lips and reaching out, his hand meeting hers in a firm handshake as Bucky's eyes met hers again.

“Yeah, nice to be working with you

[beanarie]

⭐️ for the temperature of becoming something (or any of your post-s8 fics) I'd love to hear about your approach to writing the 118 and how they ought to have treated buck, and how you balance nuanced characterization with what the show gave us! Really enjoying that story btw.

oh gosh i love this question. fair warning this will be long on words and possibly short on sense!

so temperature is the first fic where i tried to contend with the essential abandonment of buck by his family. for each character, i put them on a couple of different spectrums to figure out how to repair the relationship.

proximity is one spectrum. hen is the character with the most distance from buck. one on one, all things being equal, she maybe gets along a tiny bit better with him than chim does (where is my chim & buck daydrinking scene, timathon?), but the maddie connection shoves chim in the other direction. eddie is the closest to buck. even after he moved to texas, he and buck talked regularly about life shit (at least eddie's life shit, tho i guess buck telling him about everyone forgetting hen's birthday counts in the buck column).

not sure if i've had to say the plural of spectrum before. spectrums looks silly but spectra feels wrong, too. pretentious. anyway the next spectrum regards level of trauma/ability to recognize what was going on with buck. chim is on the high trauma end, as the one bobby sacrificed himself for, and as a guy with a heavily pregnant wife that might descend into a depressive episode as soon as the baby is born. hen is again the closest to the other side. she was sad, but she had her head on straight. and then there's eddie fighting for his life to steal chim's spot. do not get me wrong it makes sense to be upset under those circumstances! bobby's death triggered some shit. it did. but to make out like his struggle was worse than any of the others? bro literally made it all about him while accusing buck of doing that. fucking wild.

so between closeness, level of spiraling, and a couple of other things, i sussed out how responsible they each were for buck being left out in the cold. i didn't read eddie's "no one knows how to handle you" as accurate. hen and chim never had to "handle" buck on their own before. i think they would naturally assume eddie had him, so hen could concentrate on athena and i guess her kids (tim? bueller? remember bobby's stepkids??) and chim could wallow/be there for his wife & kid. still not very toretto style family of them, given buck's relationship with bobby, but eddie's the only one who knew exactly how little support buck was actually getting.

for maddie and chim, i kept the explicit amends to a minimum, instead focusing on them showing a commitment to doing better. because they do love buck; they've just been stuck on a rollercoaster the last six months and hadn't been able to take a breath long enough to see what's going on. also this is a divergent au where the transfer request never happened, so buck announcing he was going on leave was their first real sign of a problem. for hen, because she was in a better position to see buck wasn't okay, i went a little further, having her identify the issue and sincerely apologize for it.

for edmundo, my guy needed actual consequences because his main character syndrome is absolutely devastating for everyone around him. i wanted chris to be mad because he had just returned to la and one of his favorite people bounced due to his dad's mouth. i wanted buck to recognize how awful that one-sided fight was, and to go fully no contact for a while to force a reset including some actual growth for the two of them.

[lilacprincess7]

Hey heeeey! How are you doing? Love your blog btw ;) Could you perhaps do a Pau x reader? Something where Pau and reader are hosting a dinner at his players and invite the other players like Gavi, Pedri and Co. The other players bring stuff to not come empty-handed (I could imagine Gavi bringing store-bought cookies but having taken them out of the package so it’s not too obvious xD) The reader does most of the cooking and is midly stressed because they want everything to be perfect. Pau helps as good as he can.

Thanks in advance!

Team Dinner anxiety

summary: what the req said

a/n: I saw the 'guess who' video and think he is so cute. I love how him and Hector are so close

You were shaking. Like literally shaking. You and Pau had agreed to host the team dinner of the month and it had you quite anxious. Scratch that. Personally, you looked like a fish out of water. What even were you going to cook? How many dishes should you cook?

Since the season was still going strong you had the problem of everything also being diet appropriate so the guys could actually eat. The next problem was that there were vegeterians and vegans on the invite list. So obviously you needed to cook a little bit of everything.

That preperetion certainly needed more than a pair of hands. Who better to drag into this mess than your boyfriend? Frankly, he already knew you were stressed about and was going to offer his help anyway. You just managed to ask him before he asked you.

So here you were, talking about it in the comfort of your couch. You were currently sat on his lap, his big arms encircling your waist, his hands grasping opposite hips, big green eyes looking up and meeting your own gaze with his chin against your chest.

"Baby, you are distracting me, stop it"

"Why? I literally didn't even move!"

"I know! But I'm freaking out and I need help and you are sitting here so calm and just looking at me like I'm the best think in the world and it makes me blush and feel shy and I can't consentrate with the task at hand!"

"Okay okay, I'll stop looking at you. There. My eyes are closed. But for the record, you are the best thing in the world. You are my entire world hermosa..."

"Guapooo" you said in awe, rolling off of him and on the couch, hiding your face with a nearby blanket.

He was full on smiling with your reaction. It wasn't something uncommon per say, him saying such things and making you blush. It never failed to make you a shy and cute -in his opinion, you disagreed- mess.

"Okay, now I'm pausing for real. Look, in the kitchen I'm a mess. I will blow things up. I can't help at all...but"

"But?"

"I know how to have a barbeque... I can make some steaks, sausages, even some burgers if you want.." he suggested, looking at you with that pair of eyes that had you melting easily.

"That solves so many problems! You are a lifesaver!" you said as you climbed his lap again and kissed him full on the lips.

Now stress gave way to excitment. You would make a couple of salads, possibly put some mushrooms and peppers in the oven as well, that way vegetarians and vegans were covered. The boys would be fine with the meat and you could also throw some fish in the oven, if anyone wasn't in the mood for meat or had some allergy.

The dinner was in two days, so tomorrow you would go shopping with Pau after he got back from training and get everything you need to cook. This was going to be the best team dinner ever and you would make sure of it!

And here you were, in the middle of an isle on the supermarket, trying and failing to reach a bottle of oil from the top self. You were this close to just straight up giving up when Pau made an appearance. “Baby, what’s going on? What are you trying to reach with such a passion?” He asked, chuckling a bit.

“I want to reach that bottle of oil, but it’s too high and I can’t…” you trailed off, pouting

“You can, with a bit of help” he said

With minimal effort, your boyfriend had literally manhandled you and now you found yourself seated on his shoulders, like you weighted as much as a feather. “Now you can reach it hermosa, no?” He teased as he grasped your thigh with one hand, he looked up at you and smiled wide, his eyes lightning up in the process. He had that look of love dancing in his eyes when he looked at you and it always made you feel butterflies.

“Yes, yes stop teasing me…” you trailed off smiling back at him.

You were genuinely so happy with him in your life. A simple look, a gentle touch of his was enough to make you feel better, to make you feel whole even in the most difficult situations. He was everything you could ever need and everything you would ever want. You really hoped and he knew so that he would be the father of your children one day.

Somehow, nothing blew up. That was mostly because this time around Pau was not distracting you and was out in the backyard taking care of the meat he had chosen to cook. You were quite a bit anxious once again because you were making baked mushrooms for the first time on your own and you freaked out.

Like totally panicked. You called your mom to make sure you had the right recipe and then your grandma. They both teased you, saying that Pau has stolen your mind and you had zero braincells left. They also said that you had made this since you were five years old and laughed a bit more. You replied to both of them similarly with something along the lines of 'haha really funny, not that it isn't true...'.

Finally, after you were stack in a kitchen the whole day, your guests started arriving and you were somewhat tense at first. What if anyonw got food poisoning. Another stupid thought since you knew how to cook and Pau always praised you for your talent.

Fortunately, he was there once again to calm you down. He stopped you while you were taking a tray of cheese in the living room as a side for the wine. He got the plate from you and put it down on the kitchen table.

"Amor take a breath" he said quietly

"Why? I'm fine I swea-"

"You are anxious. And I can literally feel your hand shaking so please take a deep breath in for me.." he trailed off, looking at you straight in the eyes pleadingly. If he knew you would be so stressed about it he would have told you to not host it, to cancel it even. You were above everyone else in his heart.

So you did as he told you. He helped you control your breath and guided you for a moment.

"Now, do you feel a bit better?" he asked concerned

"Yeah, thank you amor"

"Anything for my woman" he replied as he kissed your knuckles

He hugged you for a couple of minutes after, mostly wanting to reasure himself that you were okay. He peppered some kisses on your face, one landing on your nose, another on your temple, a third on your cheekbone. He was so affectionate with you that it made you dizzy.

The rest of the evening was perfect. The wags asked you for some of your recipes even. They were quite impressed by your cooking skills and wanted to know more. In the end, it really was the best team dinner ever.

a/n: hope you liked it!!

[eviemonroeer]

The Monroe Effect: Snapshot 3- Money Can't Buy You Happiness

Set during Season 1, Episode 23 of ER. Spoilers if you have not watched ER.

Warnings:

WC: 656

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, @antisocialfiore, and @snowflames-world

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

Oh, he was rich rich. 

Like the kind of rich where you have so much money, you’ll never spend it in a lifetime rich.

When Jerry had first said the number, I honestly wanted to throw up. That money would have made all the difference for me and my mom growing up. She wouldn’t have had to work herself to the bone. Maybe she could have gotten tested sooner for cancer. We defiantly would have had more care options. And here I was finding out that my friend was loaded. Absolutely insane. 

“Carter, are you really worth that much?” I asked him on a break, taking a quick bite of my protein bar. We were both sitting on the bench outside the ambulance bay doors, a spot I discovered we talked at a lot. 

“I wouldn’t know. It’s not my money.” He replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s my family’s money.”

“Same difference.” I scoffed and smiled, playfully rolling my eyes. “You have people paying for everything for you.”

“You know, money doesn’t solve all of your problems.” He said, his chewing becoming slower. 

“Says the guy with money.”

“Okay, yeah. Whatever.” Carter scoffed and walked away, dumping his lunch in the trash can.

I couldn’t shake this feeling that Carter was really bothered by what I said. And with the way he had avoided me the rest of his shift, I was probably right. I needed to get to the bottom of this; find out what was really going on. I found later that night at the desk in curtains, practicing sutures on a pig’s foot.

“That is absolutely disgusting.” I groaned, staring down at the thing from the other side of the window. 

“I’m working on my running technique. Closest thing to human skin. Unless you want to volunteer?” He asking, looking up and giving me a sarcastic smile. 

“No thanks.” I grabbed the ledge and squeezed. “Do you think you could take a break from Babe there and we could talk?” 

He nodded and put down his instruments. He followed me back to the lounge and I grabbed him a cup of coffee, setting it in front of him. “I’m really sorry if I upset you earlier.” I started as I sat across from him. “I really didn’t mean too.”

He sighed. “It’s alright. Not like I haven’t heard it all before.”

“No, it was wrong of me. It’s just really hard to imagine having all those resources at your disposal. You’re really lucky Carter.”

"Yeah, lucky.” He scoffed under his breath. 

“You don’t think so?” 

“I only see my parents about two, maybe three times year, whenever they can stop island hopping long enough to check in. It’s been that way since I was a kid. Ever since my older brother died of leukemia.” He looked down and ran his hands over his pant legs. 

“Carter......I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t know about your brother.

“I don’t talk about it a lot. Guess I learned that from my parents too.” He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit I noticed he had. 

“Evie, you got to be raised by a mom who loved you, who took care of you. Someone who was there to support you and root for you during everything. I was raised by a nanny and home schooled until I was twelve. And the only reason my parents started coming back around then was because I started doing well riding horses. It looked good to their big shot friends. So yeah, I don’t have any student loans and I still get a weekly allowance. But trust me, you are the lucky one.”

I nodded slowly before reaching across the table and taking his hand. I squeezed it tight, causing him to look up at me. “Thank you for telling me.”

He nodded back and returned the squeeze. “Thanks for actually listening.” 

[justafuckingstrangelittlegirl]

Oh my fucking god, what a whole bunch of bullshit.

I'll take my time responding you, not because I think that what you said make sense, but maybe I can make you a little bit more self aware of your own insignificance.

First of all, it's good that you have ADHD and have a proper diagnose. Well, at least I hope so, right, that you went to at least a terapist and a psychiatrist to make sure of what you are saying. Because I did. I have a whole bunch of things that proves with A plus B, that I indeed have ADHD. So I'm not fucking playing around. This shit affects me daily and I, better than anyone, know how my condition can affect people life. So again, I hope that at least you actually have this shit and is not some twitter freak. If *I* use humor or try to relate to things that *I* like sometimes, thats on me. If you like to use your ADHD as some serious shit that can never be something lighthearted and good. I'm sorry, that must be a sad life.

Second, girl, get a grip, its not that deep. It was a joke. Its tumbr. If you can't take a fucking joke, that I made about MYSELF, go touch some fucikng grass. I clearly said that about *ME*, on *MY* account, about the character that *I* like. If you felt the need to come here and make this whole thing about something that clearly was not meant for you, you should go seek help, its not normal feel that affected by someone making an innocent post on *THEIR* account.

Third, my joke was quite simple. The fact that some people didn't undestand is above me. I simply said that before my meds I was an introvert, who couln't deal with social interactions and would rather spend time alone with my thougths than actually put myself out in the world. Thats how *I* haedcannon Remus. After my diagnose and treatment, I became someone social, who can make friends and is very good at social interactions, because I also treated my anxiety. I'm good at uni and excell on my course. These are features that *I* associete with *MY* headcannons of Lily and James.

And at last, I looked in your profile (not that I acually needed to) and saw that you are a Snape stan. One more time, my post was not for you. My whole account is not for people like you. I have no problem with you, weirdos, who decide to stan that motherfucker, simply because is not my cup of tea. Do *I* hate him? yes. Do *I* have some valide criticts to him? yes. Do *I* go around starting stupid fights with people who like him? NO. Because I know how to fucking use this site. "IF YOU DON"T LIKE OR DON"T AGREE, JUST SCROW". God, I miss the good old days where people knew basic etiquete on tumbr.

If you read all these, something that I'm almost sure you didn't, I wont adress your personal opinions about the characters that I like. I don't need to. If you don't like them, fine by me, I'm mature enough to respect other people opinions on FICTION. But you should definitely exercise your text comprehension and your projection.

All these years I've been convinced that I was just like Remus - not good with ppl, avoiding others, prefering alone time and a completely gay mess

Turns out it was just my undiagnosed ADHA. With meds I'm a weird mix of Lily and James

Crazy shit