#Im so stressed and sad and feeling awful and terrible

[maxlarens]

all the daniel stuff has really put a damper on my weekend and it seems like VCARB don’t even know and even if they don’t drop him it’s s horrible and cruel.

i had a pit in my stomach earlier cause i was so stressed about it i had to stop going on social media :/

he’s been doing a good job! vcarb just don’t know what they’re doing

i’ll be so sad if true cause daniel is the reason i got into f1 in the first place and last time there was a chance he was back but idk if it can happen again

(sorry for ranting in your inbox i just saw you posted about it and i’ve been so stressed lol)

no ur absolutely fine, im more than happy to discuss this kind of stuff! i may start making more posts about drivers and f1 politics and things tbh.

but yeah anyway. anyone’s personal feelings about daniel and his performance and whether or not he deserves his seat etc etc aside, it’s just appalling how redbull are handling this. they have clearly not made a concrete decision yet (ie: pen to paper. i think people know), but have been stringing daniel along on the hope that he may not get replaced. i just think its disgusting with how truly terrible vcarb has been re: his tyre strategy. this race was a mess? i don’t understand why they would pit him first like that so early on. it makes genuinely no sense to me. and it puts him in this awful position wheres he’s got to fight through the midfield every time he races.

i don’t get it. and i think its absurd to judge him off his race position when they shaft him every time.

and just yeah. throwing him to media wolves when he has been fucking loyal to redbull. sure he left. but they treat him like dirt under their shoe. for what reason??? especially when he came back on the hope of getting into the redbull seat. and fine if thats not an option okay. why has he seemed to think that he’s been safe and/or had hope up until the end of this race? where literally everyone is acting like its foregone conclusion that he’s gone and he has to grapple with that in front of everyone. without support from vcarb or rb.

i can see vcarb not knowing. i think max knows. i think h*rner knows. why doesn’t daniel know? why wasn’t he given an appropriate send off?? why haven’t they announced the swap with a race or two to go so he can be prepared for it, have people celebrate his career.

i love logan. but that sudden swap makes sense to me. he was causing damages that a team like williams can’t absorb. daniel is not crashing. i understand its the pressure of the wdc. but to me it looks like the reason daniel is not getting into points is because vcarb screw up his tyre strategy. perez is costing them money, perez is costing them points. i don’t think theres a big conspiracy to keep him in his seat, but i AM confused as to why daniel is unfairly bearing the brunt of that? thats what it feels like to me.

i will be very interested to see what they announce/how they announce it for daniel. and i will also be interested to see how they handle liam and his tyre strategy if thats what happens. because yeah whats the value in this swap is what it comes down to imo.

overall these mid season swaps are not a pattern that i particularly enjoy seeing. its not out of character for redbull of course, but it just reeks of disrespect for their drivers. especially someone like daniel who loves that team, clearly deeply loves driving and has been in the sport for a significant amount of time. a mid season swap is not unacceptable to me, but the lack of care in handling it is.

[bunnihearted]

🐰🩹🧸🏨

[dancing-with-stars]

my mom is literally yelling at me bc i “study too much” and she says that’s selfish and i shud be doing other things and spending time w my family. like. as if everytime i spend time w my family i don’t just end up hating myself more.

[zwhoreo]

Hi! Can I request a fic where the fem!reader helps Luffy to deal with the trauma of losing his brother?

omg first fic after i randomly left for 2 months!! but im back to writing angst again im in an angst phase

also i ended up not specifying anything gendered for reader, hope that’s chill that it’s x gn! i mostly reserve gendered language for smut

wake up @nina-ya i finished the fic i said i’d finish 2 months ago

nightmares - luffy x gn!reader

angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

❕SPOILERS FOR MARINEFORD❕

summary: the trauma of marineford gives luffy nightmares, and you need to comfort him while he’s vulnerable and scared

contains: luffy in a distressing emotional situation, luffy is traumatized, references to marineford/ace’s death/timeskip

words: 2k

_______________________________

Luffy never used to remember his dreams. They were hazy and soft, they made him feel warm and fuzzy when he woke up, he would stretch and yawn and they’d go away so fast and so gently like butterflies flying away. And then he’d see you and hold you and kiss you until you were awake too, as excited to see you and his heart so warm and full of love.

And you were there to enjoy his dreams, he was a noisy sleeper who mumbled happy little thoughts unintelligibly into your neck, he would kick and pinch and squeeze in his sleep which you had to learn to live with because he couldn’t go to sleep without a hug and you’d be the one to give it to him all night. But he’d often end up moving and rolling around, tangling himself uncomfortably, protective instincts kicking in he'd get on top of you and lay there, starfish. When he awoke in the night he’d assume his most comfortable and close position with lazy kisses. He was so, so happy every night.

That was two years ago.

He’s still the same boy he was then, still giving you all those awkward little affections during the night that you missed so much while you were away. But now there’s more. Now, sometimes, he has nightmares. Awful ones that torment him every so often and make him upset and sad when he awakes in the dark, make him begin to cry when he realizes you aren’t in his arms anymore. You always pray for nights when he’s calm like he used to be, you make sure to massage him and kiss him as he falls asleep to coax those good dreams back and help him heal. Of course those years ago he’d get upset and scared and sometimes he wouldn’t feel well when he woke up, but that was so rare, that was when something bad had just happened and he was very stressed but it was so rare because he was so, so happy.

Luffy’s happy now, too. He hasn’t changed much, really, still an excitable, bouncy kid, always smiling, but now you have to worry about the night. You have to worry about dark thoughts and memories bubbling over when he’s most vulnerable until his body shakes and even your affection is barely enough. This is terrible for you, so unbearably terrible. You have to learn how to soothe something broken, something you love with every fraction of your shattered heart.

_________________________________

You’re asleep, a dull, unbreakable sleep, you’d curled up in Luffy’s arms when it was time for bed and you’d cuddled together and giggled and kissed until you both fell asleep in a joyful pile. Now you’re so content, you don’t even notice how Luffy had accidentally rolled away from you in the night, sheets all tangled up with you and keeping a distracting warmth.

Luffy’s dream isn’t bad at first. It’s the kind where you’re not quite there, floating above the world in just a dull picture, no sound or feeling or touch. It’s just the ocean, a bird over the sea. But suddenly the ocean is stone and the sky is fire and he’s disoriented, where is he? What’s happening? He looks at his hands and they’re red and he’s frozen in fear like you sometimes are in nightmares. He knows in his fractured, cloudy little mind that something bad is going to happen and he’s going to see that picture again. A thousand flashbulb memories are going to explode at once, in fire. In the waking world in bed he’s twitching and sweating and his eyes are shifting furiously beneath his lids, and you don’t know, you aren’t there to hold him.

Ace. Ace’s smile and his soft black eyes and they’re playing in the jungle together and running and running and now that’s gone, the fire’s back. It all happens at once, so much blood, holding something fading and dying. Heartsick over a goodbye. It’s one of those nightmares where you cry and scream so much and as loud as you can because everything’s happening to you at once, but you can’t make any sound, you’re just in a tidal wave of amplified agony. And that’s how Luffy lives in this moment, unable to make out much of anything except darkness and pain, shaking and overheating in his sleep.

But the anguish bursts all around him and then suddenly the fire’s gone and everything is quiet again and Luffy’s awake, tangled uncomfortably in the blankets, face covered in tears. He can’t catch his breath and his mind is full and blurry and empty all at once. Suddenly the darkness of the cabin is all encompassing, sickly, he wants it to be day again and for the world to feel safe and happy and oh, where are you?

Fear squeezes his heart as he tries to find you in the darkness, are you gone? He can’t handle being alone right now, he can’t do this, he searches with his hands in the dark and cries and feels the panic burning a hole in his stomach but finally he turns to his left and there you are. Sleeping. Despite all of this you’re still sleeping, curled up and breathing slowly, unaware and at peace. Luffy wants to wake you up so badly because he doesn’t want to be alone but he doesn’t want to worry you.

So he climbs into your arms and breathes you in. He buries his face in your chest and tries to calm his injured heart.

Biting his lip and shaking he tries so hard not to cry. He can’t bother you, he knows you’ll be sad and worried which he really doesn’t want. But his whole body hurts, he wants your arms to be tighter, he squeezes and squeezes begging silently for relief and for everything to go away but it wasn’t just a night terror it was a memory and memories don’t just go away. So he cries.

You’re stirred from sleep because the sound of Luffy crying is the worst thing you could possibly hear, a thousand of your own memories are brought back and some deep instinct is triggered within you, pulling you, you wake up immediately and the first thing you do is get on top of him and lock him in your arms, trying to breathe slowly so he will too.

He twitches beneath you, cloudy realization that he’s no longer alone. His arms are around you, fingers digging in, sharp pain, he’s trying so hard to make his tears stop as you hold him and stroke his face. But he’s a possessive, needy boyfriend who’s comforted by protecting who he loves. He sits up, taking you with him, he wraps his arms around you tighter and tighter and then his legs. He’s breathing heavily on your face, eyes closed, sad still but resilient. You’re pinned to him, unable to move, but you massage the tension out of his back and shoulders as best you can.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you whisper and he nods against you and holds you even tighter if that’s possible, “…do you wanna talk about it?”

So he nods very gently but he doesn’t say anything. His hands are twitching against you, scratching at your back in leftover desperation.

“Was it about him?”

Luffy leans against you, hopeless and drained, you don’t need him to answer so you just press your cheek against his and pet his hair. And his shoulders shake as he cries silently in your arms.

You rest there for a few minutes, unable to do much other than just hold him, and he whispers in your ear, “I miss him so much.” Which wets your eyes because there’s so much pain in those five words. His voice is breathy, far away.

“I know, Lu… I’m sorry.” You’re not good at this, you think. You never really know what to say because this goes deeper than words can touch.

Luffy bites his lips. He doesn’t want to cause you pain and knowing that he is, it’s just piling on top of his despair. There’s so many times he’s oblivious to how you’re feeling but when things are broken, when you’re in distress, reality tugs at the inside of his heart.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, fingers in his hair, you kiss his neck gently and the warmth is getting through to him, so gradually.

“I want him here. I just…” Luffy’s voice is breaking. And you taste fresh tears as you move your lips higher. “I miss him,” he says again.

“I know how much he meant to you. Hey, Luffy…” The slow rise and fall of your chest is slowly steadier his breath now. He looks up at you, that sadness in his eyes is almost too painful to handle but you look at him anyways, eye contact with something beautiful soothes his soul. “He’d be so proud of you. And how strong you are.”

He’s heard this before. Luffy sniffles, he knows it’s true but only so much of that can help.

“He’d be proud of you, because you never gave up, right? You kept going and you got stronger.” And you’re not talking about his physical strength, really. You tap the side of his head gently. “Up here.”

Luffy nods subtly, his tears are stopping slowly as he clings to the comfort of your words, his greatest comfort in the world is protecting people he loves, being there for someone. He’s still guilt ridden at letting his brother die for him but as long as he keeps living he’s living for Ace, honoring him, being there for him even if he’s gone.

And that’s what you say next, reading his mind. “What matters is that you’re alive. You didn’t let what he did for you go to waste, he’d be so proud of that. This is exactly what he wanted, yeah?” Your hands trace circles on Luffy’s back as you feel him relax very slowly.

“I’m so happy you’re still here,” you whisper right in his ear.

“Mhm…” Luffy’s lips find yours, hovering, just touching you. “I’m not letting you go, ‘kay?” His words are so deep and genuine. There’s heartache there but an impenetrable love, most of all. His arms are flexed around your body, he’s squeezing you and it’s almost uncomfortable but you have to let him right now.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You manage a smile which makes him smile too.

It seemed impossible for Luffy to get even more loving but he definitely was when you saw him again. You’re the one who’s getting it all, all the affection he wanted to give to his brother.

“You wanna hang out for a while?” You offer because you’re scared to let him sleep again. “It’s ok to stay up. If you’re tired tomorrow I’ll take a nap with you.”

He likes that idea. Maybe you’ll get something to eat, even take a walk on the deck if it’s not too cold. He just wants your company. He wants to spend as much time with you as he physically can to make up for everything and to show you how much love he has to give.

“I love you, mh, let’s stay up an’ hang out,” his words are quiet and gravelly from sleep and tears but what matters is he’s smiling now. He’s back to living in the moment tonight, and you’re his moment.

The next morning he’ll be completely back to himself. He’ll kiss you good morning but he’ll act like the night never happened, probably, because it’s nicer to be happy and enjoy the day. He has you, he knows everything’s going to be alright.

[rubiatinctorum]

Okay honesty time i am SO stressed out!!! i had a busy Friday and then waited a really long time to make a marketplace sale on Saturday and one of the people was a no-show and i had/have too many things listed — to the point there were things i realised i wanted to keep and not sell!!! and last time i did this i was like 'ok, purpose served and nothing lost, take the listing down and put it back where it belongs in my room no problem' and that was that — but tonight i'm feeling really sad about it!!!!! like oh no i accidentally almost sold things i love!!! even though they didn't get sold and i still have them and there's no harm done and there's no evil in thinking about selling something. it's a betrayal to no one and nothing if i almost made the wrong call but didn't. but now i feel bad and awful and terrible and based on the time of the month and other recent symptoms i think i might just be nearly ready to start my period again, i cry really easily a day or two before over things i can normally act normaler about. anyway soon i have to arrange sale meetings for things and pester people who no-showed if they want an alternate time (as if that's not foolish as hell bc hello!!! they didn't show the first time!!!!) and ask the people who've been pending on sales now for a while if they even want the thing (implication: damn are u even decided on this bc ur not moving to like. buy it or anything). one customer in particular is really trying my patience bc she won't confirm one way or another whether she wants something AND she's trying to bring the price down. it's already discounted!!! i can't sell it for less than that!!!! im already losing lots of money on what i paid for it i cannot bring it down even further. marketplace used to be fun (like. earlier this week) but now people aren't showing up on time or at all and i'm losing day after day after day to sitting in my living room looking out the window in preparation for someone arriving 30-45 minutes late (side note: i wish many lovely days for the person who arrived not only on time today, but early and still in my window of availability!!!! that was really nice and so much more refreshing compared to many late people lately) and now that i'm out of direct financial crisis but don't feel the motivation to recreationally spend, i feel now like all of this is kind of a chore. it's 11 days into August now and i feel like I made good use of 2.5 days of it. it's a third through the month and i feel like i've wasted most of it online trying to sell sell sell. i don't want to lose the end of the summer like this. Then again what kind of end of summer is it? We've had a few nice weather days, but most of August has been overcast and/or rainy. Not exactly going out weather. God, this sucks. Dull April, May, June weather. Beautiful July weather. Dull August. Then back into autumn. Is this where we're at now? One beautiful and warm month a year? This is the worst year for weather I think I've ever seen, and considering I spent most of the year looking forward to a bit of sun as my main thing to look forward to, this feels kind of sad. I guess I have to get used to going for walks again when it's foggy and rainy, like I did back in May and June. Maybe I'll even take up going to the mall again. I haven't been to the mall in over a month. I don't know what I'd do there, even. anyway i feel a bit better now and less stressed so i guess typing this had some benefit after all. i have a journal, i don't know why i couldn't say all this there, though i did write about some of it. i guess it's easier for me to be a yapper when i'm online. there's just something different about making my inside thoughts into outside thoughts

[woomycritiques543]

Viv made a tweet about the non-canon HH accounts and how some theories made were making her uncomfortable. Based on the comments, it seems to be about Vox x Val. I feel the show is going to portray them in a similar manner to Stolitz, mostly for fanservice. They’ll be seen as a toxic relationship rather than showing the nuance of an abusive one. That way, Viv can sell couple merch of them without presenting them in a bad light.

TW: Mentions of R/PE, Mental Health issues.

I checked to see what you are talking about and-

Oh no... (It's the "sad pills" thing all over again but it's now within the fanon. So even the fanon here is absulotely awful and the creator using it to fetishize the ab^se within the canon makes this entire situation even worse!) I guess being in a horrible coersion relationship and the current state of it (Stolas and Blitz) should be represented as "love" to Vivienne apparently.... 💀 This also proving that again- Stella was only created as a way to somehow morally "justify" Stolas and Blitz being together with a "but his wife was a meanie uwu and wants to kill Stolas- just because! So pwease buy our merch where we make them harming and sa'ing each other look cute! 🥺". it'd be one thing if she specified whether she ships the canon version or not, but she keeps relating these things to the canon, uses the fanon to further fetishize the canon instead of letting it exist by itself, make the merch of the canon look "sexy/cute!" and all sorts of terrible things that is hard to even describe in words it's that awful.

Everything about this makes me grateful that Dragon Prince exists and that our only gay representation in the world isnt... this. (CONTEXT: Ive been being constantly attacked on Twitter by DaniDraws stans telling me to "delete your channel!" and keep defending Stolas and Blitz in the show (Not the fanon ship- the show! We shouldn't sacrifice our morality just to force a crack ship that we like to be accepted as canon regardless of the toxicity within the canon itself. Some ships should be crack and stay as crack.) and to this day are still harassing my Twitter like as if ive just murdered someone or something. They're really acting like not liking a couple in a show full of fictional characters is the "worst" thing I could ever do, it's actually fucking pathetic.)

Another Tweet: Another vent post, in a row! Please woman- for the love of god please give yourself a break both you and your employees very much need it. Care for yourself, please, for the love of god! So it's not even just the awful takes that are concerning for others, it's Vivziepop being concerning based on her behavior towards herself, honestly- Both how she treats the show and how she projects her own flaws with accountability onto the characters, how she treats Spindlehorse, how she treats herself and how fast that she's doing all these projects, all of it. I hope that Viv receives thearpy soon, the fact that she's said that she doesn't have it yet makes me so sad and I do hope the best for her mental health.

It's one thing for occasionally self aware humor, its another thing to self depricate and continue to very things that are causing you to constantly be stressed in the first place. Viveinne, please get help, im begging you at this point, for the sake of both yourself and the people around you. This isnt even only abou the parasocial fandom you've created from your lack of setting boundries but for your studio and many others. Please get help, im begging you.

As for the tweet itself-

This pretty much confirms that they want us to see the "stolas and blitz" ones as canon despite the fact that it's just Stolas and Blitz either ab^sing each other or having "honey moon" (the phase where a ab^sive relationship seems "healthy" before ab^se occurs again.) phases over and over. But this has no mention of Vox and Val so I honestly have no idea what you're saying anon. Either way, going to Vivziepop's twitter was a mess and a half and I honestly need to stop using Twitter it's becoming a bad habit tbh. Either way- Vivziepop needs to take a break from Hazbin and get help. She's hurting so many people, and even herself because of how she prioritizes the industry over her own health. I actually like these shows too, but I would rather wait and know that the creator isn't rushing things and harming herself so much- Than to see multiple episodes be rushed out a year and to slowly watch Vivziepop harm her own mental health more and more, see her venting about it and full on having break downs like she did two months ago. I cant even do a thing about it since I dont know her personally. I cant call her, I cant send her resources... I can't do much and it upsets me to no end so im going to have to just pray and wait...

[unholyplumpprincess]

Oh my goshhhh-uhhh

[mothbeasts]

Feeling just Bad today but I probably still have to go out and do shopping and I'm just. :(

[pepprs]

ok im back i think. when i made that post the other night my panic attack wasn’t over and an hour later it got so bad that i m*de m*self s*ck and ive been trying to lay low and heal since then but things are just. really bad right now i think. i appreciate everyone’s advice though im sorry if i worried anyone

[garlique]

tw for suicide and self harm in tags !! pls just scroll !!

[thehollowwriter]

I know you’re busy with a lot of requests, so no rush or anything. 🥰 May I request a Dark Green Petal with a Fluffy Cloud for Jade? I can’t imagine him getting hurt often or anything similar, so I was thinking of maybe a clumsy and emotionally sensitive soulmate? But I’ll leave it up to you 😊 I hope you have a good day!

Summary: Jade has an emotionally sensitive and clumsy soulmate and can feel their pain

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)

One Dark Green Petal And One Fluffy Cloud

▪Oh dear.

▪You stress poor Jade out far too much. It's not good for the heart, don't you know?

▪From a young age he's felt your pain.

▪ A lot of was emotional, but there was also quite a bit of physical.

▪Nothing terrible of course, but it was quite clear you were a pain magnet.

▪When Jade met you and got to know you, he came to understand that you were, in fact, incredibly clumsy and quite sensitive.

▪He's always careful with his words around you, and he makes sure to keep you from hurting yourself. You mean everything to him, after all.

▪He's quite glad he has this connection with you, it's easier to protect and keep an eye on you. However, it does give him mini heart attacks.

▪Like now.

Jade was working at the Lounge, and everything was going just fine. Just. Fine. You were fine.

Jade... was a worrier. While he was sadistic, murderous, and dangerous, he was very protective over his family, close friends and- most of all- you.

He really didn't like it when you got hurt.

"Order for table thirteen!" Floyd called, and Jade took the plates and made his way over to the designated table.

"Here you go." He said, gently placing down their food. He got a few mumbled thank you. He smiled. "Anything el-" Oh Seven that quick surge of sadness in his mind hurt so bad. What on earth were you doing?!

As soon as the the emotional pain subsided he got hit with a mountain of utterly awful physical pain in his head and... tongue?

"Excuse me." He said to his table, and swiftly left the Lounge, ignoring the shouts of his co-workers.

The moment he was out he bolted to Ramshackle as fast as his long legs could carry him- which was pretty damn fast.

He opened the door with such force it nearly came of its hinges.

He didn't intend to panic but you've suffered some very bad injuries once twice and he cannot take any chances.

"Darling? Darling are you alright?" Jade searched the entite dorm until he found you im the bathroom.

Crying.

Jade made his way to you and gently touched your shoulder. "Darling? What happened?" You smiled. "N-Nothing. I'm... f-finee..." You started crying again

"I lied. I'm sorry. I-I tried to ignore it but I got sad and then I tripped and hit my head and bit my tongue and-"

Jade stopped you. "My pearl... what were you trying to ignore?" You whimpered. "You won't like it." "You can tell me."

You were quick to give in and raise your phone to reveal your magicam account. All you did was post photos you had taken of things that caught your interest or wanted to remember. Most of the pictures were of you and Jade.

Jade focused onthe bright screen and almost growled out loud. You were getting... hate comments. Not many and nothing particularly dreadful, but it ignited a fire inside of him that was not going to be put out.

Jade turned your phone off and placed it on the counter. He then pulled you in into a warm embrace and began rubbing circles on your back. "Shh... it's alright..." He murmured, letting you cry. "My love, you're wonderful. You mean more to me than any entertainment or mushroom in the world. Don't listen to what they say."

You clung onto Jade so tightly your knuckles turned white. "O-Okay...."

You two stayed like that for a while. Juet sitting in silence and holding each other. Jade felt your hurt and it weighed on his heart immensely.

Finally, Jade scooped you into his arms and stood up. "Let's go sit somewhere more comfortable." He took you to the lounge and placed you on the couch. Seating himself next yo you, he handed you your phone. "How about we go through your photos, hmm? I think that will be fun." You thought about it. Then nodded slowly.

Jade leaned back and you followed suit, snuggling into his side. You opened your gallery, and you both began to enjoy a leisurely stroll down memory lane.

***

"Mm, I remember this." Said Jade, resting his chin on your head. "Our first date. At the falls on the mountain."

The Falls was a special place. Jade discovered it by accident and it became his place. Then he brought you there, and it became your place too.

"Didn't you try to name it after a mushroom?" You asked teasingly. Jade laughed. "Shiitake Falls is nice name. But your Pearl Falls is lovely too." His eyes lit up. "Pearl Shiitake Falls?" You giggled. "Sure, if you want."

Your swiped to the next photo, and your smile faltered. You let out a hiss. "Eish. Poor Floyd."

This particular image forever captured the time Floyd tried to eat a cactus.

You and Azul tried your damn hardest to stop him (while Jade observed in amusement) but ultimately failed.

The result? A whiny angry Floyd with a tongue full of cactus spines.

Why did he eat a cactus? He was told it was edible and delicous. Floyd did not care to read up on plants and, despite the many warnings from his peers, decided that eating it with the thorns was just "part of the experience."

"You let it happen." Your words made Jade grin. "He refused to listen to me. I am not at fault here." "Yeah. Sure."

Jade could feel your sadness lifting. It was now only a tiny needle prodding at the back of your mind.

"I love you." Said Jade, wrapping his arms around you as you continued to swipe through photos. You smiled. "I love you too." Jade paused.

"What's that?"

"This?"

"Yes."

"Oh... that's when Ace proposed to Deuce as a prank."

"Did he fall for it?"

"Yea."

-END

..................................................................................

A/N: I got very carried away with this lmao. My humour is in pieces on the floor.

Tagging @rozengrotto @adarkenedforest

[samscompliment]

let’s discuss deans bi agenda actually bc ive decided he was in love the whole time. i’m sorry mr winchester for previously thinking you were stupid enough not to know but anyway heres my timeline

so initially i think that dean’s suspicious of himself early on, but it’s the eighties and he’s only ever around sam and john and theres all the OTHER fucked up stuff john put on him to deal with so he IS going to be avoiding that thought forever probably. except then he meets lee and falls for him and thinks oh. of course i would be. lots of self hating irony and so on

by s1-3 dean is out to himself and doing a couple of clandestine hookups so he probably worked through some stuff during stanford era. a lil rebellious streak like im not what my dad wants me to be but he ditched me so i am going to be WORSE and do it on PURPOSE. ash and victor and cassie and lisa etc

s4-7 he meets cas but cas is an ANGEL and there are definitely feelings of intimidation mixed in there with Whatever The Fuck Else he’s feeling so he simply decides not to think too hard about it. also its the apocalypse and hes stressed and then cas is dead so it doesn’t matter

s8 is the first turning point bc purgatory is removed from society so there’s no right or wrong. i think benny is the first relationship dean has with a man where he isn’t also hating himself for it, and so then when aaron hits on him dean thinks— well, maybe. maybe i could come out. and he doesnt but even then i think dean still sees cas as this, like, separate category in his head. bc deans feelings for him are so MESSY!! they’re wrapped up in love and betrayal and need and awe and fright. i don’t think he has an oh moment so much as i think he comes to a quiet understanding that he loves him and needs him (hello 8x17)

obviously the mark happens in s9 and that’s just a HUGE can of worms and so dean stops analysing his feelings for cas bc he has bigger fish to fry. is just sort of purposefully like well i’m not looking at that maybe if i dont think about it it will go away. it just sort of quietens down to this background noise that isn’t as obvious as lust and just simmers away beneath the surface

s11 my beloved im a “dean has the oh moment in 11x11” as per this post bc it’s literally... i see it i perceive it it’s an inherent truth to my supernatural. this is deans “oh fuck cas is the love of my life im in love with him im STILL in love with him and im not gonna love anyone else. cas is it for me. fuck” moment plus also the realisation that he actually wants it and he wants cas to love him back

of course cas is possessed by lucifer at this point so that’s a snag. i also like this reading bc then i watch them say goodbye when they think deans going to die facing amara with the soul bomb and i get soooo sad. terrible to think that he just figured this out and he wanted to act on it but now he can’t bc he’s going to die. there’s no point telling cas so he just hugs him instead and lets his face fall where cas cant see. delicious

once mary comes back there’s like a billion and one things going on hence why nothing ever gets done about it and then cas dies and jack kills mary and it is a literal fucking nightmare for a guy who just wants to tell his buddy he loves him

i have also recently decided that i like them both knowing they’re hovering on the edge of something in s14/15 but making a mutual decision not to act on it for various reasons. except then of course dean decides to tell him in purgatory bc WHY NOT and cas doesn’t let him say it but he DOES acknowledge it and they have this very soft unspoken understanding between them in the following eps. dare i say hopeful even. which is unfortunate given how this ends but i just think. god. like at the end of the day it just comes down to the fact that there’s love in deans eyes but it was there the whole time. he loved him from the start. and then they killed him closeted at forty

[kinkmaster3000]

oh wow if you can do more character a and character b things that'd be so cool!! maybe with an office setting, some secretary spread? >:9 im down for anything tho I'm still sad that other imagines blog is on hiatus :,(

This ask has been in my inbox for like two fucking years, very sorry to whichever beautiful person sent it 🙏 I mixed the genders up a bit just for funsies but they’re pretty much interchangeable with whoever you want to be in that role.

- A tends to be a comfort eater, and it’s been a very stressful day at work. He takes his lunch break and finds himself eating in the breakroom alone. He clears out everything he brought in about 5 minutes, and opens the fridge to get his drink, only to be tantalized by everyone else’s meals. He goes on a messy binge, devouring everything in record time and getting crumbs and condiments on his expensive button-down shirt. By the time he’s finished, the fridge and cabinets are completely empty and his shirt buttons are digging into his flesh. He feels too heavy and lethargic to move, and sits there in a daze. As the stupor clears, not only does he feel incredibly guilty about eating everyone’s food, but he remembers that he has a video conference in 15 minutes with some very important clients. The problem is, he cannot stop hiccupping and burping, so this would be a disaster. As he’s freaking out about his situation, his cute secretary, B, walks in to get a cup of coffee. He tries to apologize, feeling awful about eating her lunch, but she just smiles at him sympathetically, knowing the stress he’s been under. She just gives him a firm pat on the belly (bringing up a sizable burp) and goes off to call the clients and reschedule his meeting.

-Same as the one above, except character B is A’s client instead of his secretary. Even though B could be getting a better deal somewhere else, he continues to do business with A’s company because he finds A to be very attractive and likes dealing with him. He also happens to be a feeder. He’s excited for the video conference with A, and doubly so when he sees A miserably trying to stifle hiccups. He even awkwardly shifts his eyes downwards at one point, hoping to catch a glimpse of A’s stomach, before remembering that it’s a video call. A is looking increasingly more anxious by the minute, as he continues to hiccup and burp very softly behind his hand as he explains the figures, while B is just getting more and more giddy. Eventually, the tension in his stomach gets to be too much, and he can’t hold in a guttural belch that clips the microphone a bit. He’s mortified, apologizing profusely and trying to make an excuse to continue the meeting later, but B insists, lying and saying that he doesn’t fully understand the pricing yet. A reluctantly continues talking, accidentally burping a few more times, before he realizes that B doesn’t care at all. In fact, he seems very pleased. A begins letting out closed-mouth burps in-between sentences, regaining a bit more of his confidence with each bit of pressure that is eased out. B gives him a better offer than he began with, and (almost too) enthusiastically asks him to “talk about it over lunch” next week. A is thrilled about making a good sale, and has no clue about B’s devious intentions.

-A, a classy, serious woman who is in upper-level management at a prominent company, gets terrible indigestion from anything with even the smallest amount of spice. The problem is, she loves spicy food, the hotter the better. One day, during lunch, her bubbly, motor-mouth assistant manager, B, insists on the two of them going out to eat at a restaurant she just has to try. A reluctantly agrees to leave her work because B won’t take no for an answer). When they get there, she perks up a bit when she sees Phaal curry on the menu. It’s deliciously flavorful, and also packed with habanero peppers. She’s in heaven as she eats it, and then hell 10 minutes later as her chest starts to burn intensely and her stomach starts to roil. She tries to hide how bad she feels from B to maintain her image, but long, queasy belches that burn her throat start to come up involuntarily on the ride back. Her stomach is gurgling like thunder the entire time. She even has to pull to the side at one point and let the concerned and unusually quiet B, who is a notoriously bad driver, commandeer her precious BMW on the way back because she can’t focus at all on the road. A is completely undone, groaning, hiccupping and belching with increasing length and violence as they work their way back to the office

She manages to hold everything in as B ushers her up the stairs (wanting to avoid seeing someone else in the elevator), until she gets back to her private office. She’s horribly embarrassed and gives B a rare apology, saying that this often happens to her and she shouldn’t have gotten the curry knowing that. But before B can even reply, A’s notoriously strict higher-up gives them a call, wanting to speak with the two of them about some important matters. They know better than to decline the call.

The more they talk, the less A is maintaining. She’s having trouble keeping up with the conversation, and the pressure in her belly is becoming unbearable. Unable to take it anymore, she turns away from the machine and risks letting out a soft burp, but it keeps going and becomes loud and gravelly, tearing up her throat as it comes out. The entire room goes quiet, but before she can start apologizing profusely, B does it for her, taking the blame and saying that she ate too much at lunch. Desperate to save face, A scolds her and has her leave the room, apologizing on “her behalf” when the higher-up is displeased at her “unprofessionalism”.

After the call thankfully wraps up with no more outbursts, she rushes to find B, who is sitting at her desk and filling out paperwork, somewhat sullen. A apologizes for her actions, thanking B and saying she didn’t know what else to do. B simply stands up and knocks A harshly on the back, dislodging an even larger belch before. She asks if A “got it all out” and A just nods, a bit sheepishly. “That’s good and all, but I’m never letting you order spicy stuff ever again.”

- A and B are both receptionists for the same company, and work at the same desk answering calls. The two of them are close, and A has a bit of a crush on B, but she has a boyfriend and A is very shy, soft-spoken and dorky. B is kind of a glutton, which A thinks is adorable, and A loves to cook, which B thinks is adorable. So everyday, A brings B Tupperware of increasing sizes filled with delectable homemade meals. B can’t get enough of A’s cooking, and A can’t get enough of watching B chew and swallow and sighs in satisfaction. He finds himself listening very closely for little burps and hiccups, and when she wears blouses that are tight or sheer, he has a hard time keeping his eyes off of her belly. They do this every shift for a couple months, and B starts to get a bit of a stomach pooch. It drives A wild, but one day, B comes in looking distraught, and won’t talk to A. When she refuses his lunch, he presses her on what’s wrong, and she says that her boyfriend made an unsavory comment on her weight as she was getting ready that morning, blaming A for always pushing so much food onto her. A is hurt but apologizes, saying that it wasn’t his intention but that he thinks that she looks amazing with the extra pounds. B is touched and accepts A’s food, enjoying it as always, and finally starting to see him as maybe more than just a friend.

[pillage-and-lute]

In All that I Have Done

Sad. I recommend listening to Arvo P ärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel while reading. Very, very sad, cannot stress this enough. Non-explicit major character death. (Happens of old age but still)

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More than forty years after the fall of Cintra one Professor Pankratz put down his pen. In the last ten years his hands had lost some of their surety, but his quill didn’t shake when he put it down. 

He ran one hand down his face. His beard had started going silver just after he’d adopted the style, but both it and his hair were now fully steel grey, with not even a hint of their former color. He adjusted his spectacles, tweaked the fashionable, but less than flamboyant hem of his doublet, and began to read what he’d written.

The last will and testament of Professor Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. 

I am writing this, sure and sound of mind, if not of body, in the event of my death. For many years I had a living, de facto will, that is, who ever found me dead by the roadside could loot my body for what they wished. As I got older and my body forced my errant heart to settle down I realized that this could no longer be the case. I fear I have put this off much too long, but happily, it seems I was not too late.

To my remaining family, my baby brother Alfons and his wife Iwona, I leave the rights to my songs and other works, and the royalties to them. Have fun. Alfons, Iwona is a beautiful woman and I would have wooed her, but that you were so in love I couldn’t bring myself to steal her away. I write this with a chuckle, Iwona my dear, because if you’ll remember we met first, and I introduced you to my brother only after you’d hit me in the head with a frying pan for flirting. 

I have also set up a trust, a portion of the royalties will be funneled into it for your son, Mikolaj, although he is a strapping young man who may never need it because he is a fine craftsman, as these spectacles he made me can attest. With luck he may spend it on marriage, should he ever woo that baker lad who made those charming blackberry tarts.

To the grandson of my friend Priscilla, Gaj. You have just been born and are a wonder beyond belief. Your parents are lovely people and you are lucky to have them. They should feel lucky to read this since I fear I shall be long dead before you learn your letters. However; there are times I wish I had fathered children. There are also times I remember what those who do go through and am thankful I did not, but you are a miracle. In the hope that you are given the very best of education, I have put in a word with the university. Should you choose, you will have the best schooling the Continent can offer, free of charge, with the compliments of Oxenfurt. Just, when you are someday a raging young student, sloppy drunk on a night out, think of me, if you can think at all. 

As I have of late stayed in quarters provided for me by the university and their gracious staff, I shall relinquish it all in return, as well as whatever items are held within not listed here. There shall be money in the vase by the fireplace for my funeral, as well as a generous tip for the maids, who have been wonderful and kind to an often forgetful and frail old man who is too much in his feelings.

My wardrobe I leave to whoever wants it, apart from my best blue doublet. (The sky blue one, which brings out my eyes) I should hope to be buried in it.

And finally, to my dearest and truest friend, Geralt of Rivia I leave a note, a song, and a gift.

Jaskier once again scrubbed his hand over his face. His study held a chill, despite the fine summer day, or perhaps it was just him. He got cold so easily these days. His breath rattled a little as he took a deep breath and hauled himself out of his comfortable chair. Melitele’s great gorgeous thighs, but his knees ached today. Jaskier paused at the mirror to tease his hair into place, advancing years never having divested him of his style. He flashed a wink into the mirror and shoveled a little coal into the small fireplace. 

He settled again at his desk, a different paper in hand, separate from the will, and began to look it over. This letter held none of the fine penmanship of the other, instead the letters were blocky and easy to read, better for the eyes that may have gained much in a mutation but skipped lightly over letters and switched them about.

My dear Geralt, it read. In all that I have done, I have had but one masterpiece. Critics may disagree on my greatest work, but I know it exactly, and have since the day of it’s birth. My opus was not Toss a Coin, or even the rehabilitation of yours- and all witchers- reputations. My masterpiece was my relationship with you, a wonderful and awful secret masterpiece of the heart, mind, and soul.

I know you do not dally about with words, but lest you misunderstand this last, most important of missives, we must discuss them. The word awful is now so said as to mean the same as terrible, but this cannot be true at all. Terrible is that which inspires terror or creates fear. Awful, or aweful, if you will, is to inspire awe. To be full of it. Sometimes that awe is fearful, sometimes reverential, perhaps a condemnation and sometimes a blessing. You, my friend, inspire awe. And in me you inspired something much greater than that. In all my years, which are so few compared to yours, nothing has so inspired love in me, as you. It has been my life’s greatest blessing.

When this letter comes to you, regardless of how it comes, it means I am gone from this world. I fear it shall indeed be soon, but I do not fear death. Weep not for me, my friend, instead let me bury in this parchment what there is left for me to say.

More than forty years ago I asked you to come away with me. All these decades later I still dream that you would, yet, I understand why you did not, and why you pushed me away. I offered you my heart that day, but it was the heart of a being you would watch wither away, as I’ll admit I have done. You could not be my forever, knowing that I cannot also be yours. There is no apology, no tears, no explanation needed there. 

Indeed, even for casting me away I need no words, and you have always had few to give, my friend. You didn’t keep me away for long, after all. I am like a magnet, drawn to you. Even now I feel your pull, like the tide to the gentle lady moon, but I cannot follow. 

After the mountain we met up again and again, our lives orbiting eachvother like planets, but we never clung so close as those first twenty years. That is the fault of Dame Time, a tricky mistress, as she collected her dues for twenty years of hard travel and ill care on my body.

I wish I could have given you more of my years. I find I am angry, and yet not so. At once, I could have had more time beside you, had somehow things been otherwise, but I know I had more time with you than might have been, perhaps more than I could reasonably expect. Someone, some goddess, or Life, Time, Destiny, or Fate, gave me enough time to finish the masterpiece that is my love for you, and that is enough.

You read here the ramblings of an old man, but I shall burden you with a few more sentences. 

You may recognize the case to which this letter is attached. Inside is my lute, as given to me by Filavandrel. I wish you to have it. I know you have never been musically inclined, but to me this instrument means so much more than music. This is the physical being of us, and all that may entail. I hope that you keep it, and treasure it how you will. If ever there comes such a person that you wish to play it, for whatever reason, gift it to them, but I beg you, tell them to whom it belonged, and how it came to belong to you. 

And finally, I leave you with a few unsung verses that I feel someone ought to read.

To the edge of the world May this letter be born That it comfort and heals you Although it brings you to mourn

I wrote every song And traveled along For my faith in a witcher and my friend before all

I hope you be blessed and continue your quest To be a friend of humanity As I go to rest

That's our epic tale My champion prevailed Defeated every villain And continues the tale

Toss a coin to my witcher, O valley of plenty...

love, Jaskier.

Professor Pankratz carefully rolled up the parchment and slipped inside a waterproofed tube, tying it with a blue ribbon that would likely only be lost in the parcel’s travels. He did it anyway, then he trailed his fingers over the finest instrument he’d ever played. Hand tremors meant it had sat silent for many months, but he plucked a few, slightly out of tune strings in a familiar tune. Then he put Filavandrel’s lute away, slipping the note in it’s packaging into the outer pocket of the case.

There was a funny feeling, he felt as he sat back in his large desk chair, to completing your greatest work, but he knew at least one being would remember it forever. He took off his spectacles and leaned back in his chair, the fire in the grate convincing him to doze. His eyes slid shut, and Jaskier greeted eternity with open arms.

[reidswritings]

everything changed then

word count; 5.1k

warnings; 14x15 spoilers!!!! curse words, gun violence (i think that's it??)

author’s note; this is my first spencer fic and im feeling really good about it so like, i hope you enjoy!!

 She wasn’t sure of the events that led her to the current situation. Or, you know, maybe she was— she wasn’t dumb. No in fact, other than Spencer, she was probably one of the smartest people on the team. Regardless of whatever the reason was, she was still there. She was in a terrible, terrible situation. 

What was once a car chase turned foot, had quickly turned into a hostage situation. A standoff between three FBI agents (JJ, Spencer, and Y/N) was cut short when the villain with the psychopathic tendencies forced all three to toss aside their weapons. He then forced an innocent hostage to lockdown the small shop. The innocent woman, who doubled as a mother and the judge who had locked the unsub away, with the other gun, pleaded with him. 

“Please, don’t hurt her. I don’t know how they found us, I didn’t call them!” she was nervous, her  hands shaky. Y/N, ironically, could feel the anxiety flowing from her own body. She was supposed to save them, save them all, and yet, here she was barely able to breathe as the potentially deadly weapon was trained on her boyfriend of three years. “Please, just let her go!”

“Melissa, we haven’t finished our little game.” The nasty man sneered at her, still holding the blonde against him while pointing his gun at Spencer. The three agents, shared a look. It was clear between them that they weren’t getting out without setting the man off. 

Casey forced Y/N down first, noises of protest coming from both her and Spencer. He had pulled her arms behind her back, more rough than needed, and wrapped her wrists in multiple layers of duct-tape. The tape pulled harshly at her skin, no doubt leaving behind a couple of nasty bruises. JJ and Spencer not far behind her, instead, Casey forced Melissa to do so. 

Spencer, trying to relive at least some of the tension, said, “Don’t worry, it's gonna be okay.” While Y/N knew that he was talking to the judge, she felt the undertones of his promise. 

don’t worry. it’ll be okay. we’ll get out of this, promise. nothing will happen. She knew that it was  meant for her too. 

“Hurry up!” Casey stressed, gun pointed at the stomach of the blonde who was barely holding it together. “Get over here. This is all your fault. I told you it was an accident, that—that Mark was the one who forced me to do it.”

The three tied up cops shared a look. This was bad, really really bad. Casey continued. angry, “But you wouldn’t listen! You just sat up there looking smug and superior. You think you’re so much better than me, but you’re not. You’re just as capable of hurting someone as anybody is.”

With too much force, Casey forced the young blonde to the ground, causing her to cry out as well as causing Y/N to move to her knees. He then pointed the gun back at Melissa, Y/N let out a noise of discomfort before saying, “C’mon, C-Casey, you don’t want to do this.”

A smirk playing on his lips, gross and unattractive, he looked to Melissa and ignored Y/N’s pleas, “Well, here it is, judge, your moment of truth.” In his outstretched hand was the gun that Melissa had previously tossed aside. She took it from the unsub’s hand, Jennifer’s eyes going wide at the sight. “Shoot her. Or i’ll kill your daughter.”

No one moved. No one breathed. No one spoke a word— that is until JJ’s voice rung out, breaking the silence. “Come on. She’s got nothing to do with this, okay? Just let her go.”

“Shoot her!” It was forceful and loud and dangerous all at the same time. Spencer and Y/N were stunned into silence, JJ spoke again, “Casey, she’s not a part of this. Okay?” She was trying so desperately to get everyone out with out any injuries. She was brave and Y/N admired that about her good friend. “You have no reason to hurt her. Just let her go.”

Y/N knew it was wrong as soon as the words passed her good friend’s lips. She watched with an anxiety filled heart as Casey’s whole demeanor changed, he snatched the gun from Melissa’s hands and stomped over to where JJ was sitting. He knelt down to her level and roughly grabbed a chunk of her beautiful blonde locks. Spencer moved forward, like he was going to say something, something that would aggravate the gunman even more. Y/N silently pleaded with him to stop, to just say silent— stay safe.

However, Y/N beat him to it. She didn’t care if the fire was on her. She’d rather that than on JJ or Spencer or an innocent bystander. “Leave her alone.” 

Her voice was harsh and threatening all at once. In all the years that Y/N had been on the team, no one had ever heard her talk like that. Then again, Y/N was always cautious enough to never end up in a hostage situation. 

It was then Casey pointed his gun at Y/N—Spencer’s heart stopping— “I wasn’t talking to you.” It was clear to the room that he was directing that to both girls. He then, without anymore aggravations, violently released JJ before standing up, gun still trained on Y/N, and backed up to the blonde who had the unfortunate job of working in this shop on this god-awful day. 

“Get up! Now!” He pulled the young girl up, tossing her into the counter next to Spencer. Her body flung into the counter with such force it knocked down a mirror, shattering. A gun shot rung out and Melissa and the unnamed worker both yelped— one in fear and the other in pain. 

Y/N watched as Spencer slowly moved over, trying to see the young girl, only to be stopped by a shout and a gun in his face. “Do not move!”

If Y/N’s anxiety ridden heart was in her throat before it was now jumping from her mouth and onto the floor. She didn’t understand why she was on the verge of loosing her breath. She had seen a gun pointed at her boyfriend before. It wasn’t anything new, it happened. It came with the job. Maybe it was the fact that she knew there was no getting out of this without injury and pain. 

Again, Casey’s focus was on Melissa, “New deal.” Gun in her face, gun in his hand, offering. All three agents watching helplessly. They were out of options. This was really fucking bad. “Now you need to kill one of these three.”

Y/N’s heart calmed slightly as she watched the scared brunette take the gun from the wild man’s hand. She could do this. She could talk her down— this she could do. Melissa turned to the three, gun pointed at the floor before focusing it on Spencer. 

“Melissa— Melissa, you don't want to do this. I know you don’t, you can stop this. Just put down the gun. Please—”

“Shut up!” Casey’s voice was raw. It was clear his patience was running thin. He was going to snap. Back to Melissa, he asked, “Who’s it gonna be?”

Her eyes locked with Spencer’s then with Y/N’s, they were sad and scared, “Please. Please, I don’t want to do this.”

“Focus, Melissa!” Loud and angry. The gun shook with his words.

“Please,” she begged, it was no louder than a whisper. Y/N could feel herself loosing hope, maybe she was wrong. Maybe she couldn’t do this. 

“Judge, you gotta decide. That’s what you do right?” He was calm, now. Way, way too calm. “Decide life or death with a flick of your gavel.”

The gun in Melissa’s hands moved from Spencer then to the floor and then to JJ only to go back to Spencer in the end. And Y/N was going to lose it. She was ready to do something, anything when the phone rang. Hope flooding her veins again. Help was here. They would get them out, without any damage. Right?

Y/N let out a breath, one she wasn’t aware she was holding, when Spencer spoke. His voice providing her with a much needed feeling of ease. “Answer it. Casey, answer it.”

“Shut up!” Melissa’s gun was still trained on Spencer as Casey yelled at her, “Pull the trigger!”

Melissa cried out, terrified. Y/N opened her mouth, the words flowing out before she could stop them. “Please, please don’t do this.”

“Shut up, everybody, shut up!” Casey was nearing his end, he was snapping. He lunged forward, ripping the cord from the wall, the insistent ringing stopping with it. “Focus, Melissa! Pull the trigger.”

JJ shared a look with Spencer then looked to Y/N, before trying one last time, “Casey, if Melissa won’t play, I will.” The beautiful blonde moved to her knees. She was determined to take the heat off Spencer. She couldn’t lose her best friend— she couldn’t let Y/N loose the love of her life. 

Jennifer was standing now, everyone sharing a worried look. Casey trained his gun on JJ, moving it from Melissa. Small victories. 

“Truth or dare, that’s your game, right?” The beauty shrugged, like it was nothing off her back, “I’ll play.” 

“JJ—” Y/N started, but cut herself short when Casey pointed the gun at her again. “Melissa, the weapon— give it, now!” 

“Casey,” Spencer began and Y/N felt her eyes close, hope slowly draining away again, ‘I know what its like, to be wrongly accused, sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit.”

Casey laughed, though no humor was held behind it, “Bullshit. You went to jail?”

Spencer nodded and Casey laughed again, “Yeah, I’d like to see that, pretty boy.” He then moved over to JJ and Y/N’s mind was running a mile a minute trying to fix this. Trying to find a way to get them to safety. Trying, trying and failing. 

“Alright, agent. . .”

“Jareau,” she supplied and Y/N could hear the underlying fear. 

“Agent Jareau,” he repeated, testing it on his tongue, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.” she was calm, but Y/N could tell that her good friend was just trying to put on a brave face.

“If I think you’re lying or stretching the truth in the slightest, I’ll kill him.” His gun was pointed at Spencer again and Y/N felt herself gasp loudly. JJ nodded solemnly and the wild man continued, “you ever shoot anybody before?”

“Yes, I have.”

He was sick; he laughed, “You enjoy it?”

“No.” Y/N felt like she was going to throw up. She couldn’t, this was too much. She couldn’t believe this was how her day turned out. She watched with a heavy heart and tearful eyes as Casey’s face morphed into anger. She knew JJ had messed up. He turned, annoyance heavy on his shoulders. Before any of the highly trained agents could make a move, Casey pointed the gun in Spencer’s direction and fired, screaming out. “Liar!”

Both Y/N and JJ gasped, but Y/N was the only one to yell out. “No!”

Panicked, JJ’s wide eyes moved from Spencer’s uninjured form to the man with the gun, “No, no, no. I’m not lying. Okay? I’m not lying. The people I shot, I had no choice, but I did not enjoy it. I didn’t. Okay, you asked and I-I told the truth. Okay, I told you the truth, so, uh— now, it's my turn. Right? That’s how this game is played, we take turns. Truth or dare?”

Casey slowly lowered his gun and Y/N watched helpless. “Truth.”

“What’s it gonna take for all of us to walk out of here alive? For this to end peacefully?”

Casey scoffed and trained his gun on JJ again, angry, “I ain’t going back to prison. My turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“I want you to say something you’re afraid to say, that you’d never tell anybody. And you better make it good, ‘cause if it's not, it's gonna be the last thing you ever say.” Y/N was out of hope. She could feel her walls breaking down, she could feel the few tears that had escaped her closed eyes. The gunman continued, shaking his weapon, “What’s it gonna be?”

JJ shook her head, voice watery. “There are only four people I trust in this world.”

“Boring.” He had snapped. This was it, his breaking point; he moved the gun back to Melissa and pulled the trigger, the bullet entering her leg. She yelled out and collapsed to the ground. Casey brought the gun back to Jennifer, “Next!”

“Um. . . My. . .” she was struggling, “My baby I lost, I, um—” Y/N’s eyes opened, trained on her friend, watery and blurry. “I wanted to name her Maggie.”

“Wrong!” He wanted more. He wanted her deepest secret, “Come on, you can do better than that!”

“Casey.” Spencer’s voice rung out, warning. 

“Shut up!” The dangerous man rushed her then. His hand attached itself to JJ’s arm and shoved her down to her knees with force, gun eye level to the blonde, “Last chance. Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partners here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me or I kill him.”

“JJ,” Y/N’s broken voice was no louder than a whisper as she begged her friend to save her boyfriend, “please.”

The blonde shared a look with both of her friends as Casey yelled again, “Come on!” 

JJ’s eyes and voice were watery as she spoke. “Spence, I, uh, I’ve always loved you.”

It was like a punch to the gut. She felt like she was a balloon and all the air had escaped. She didn’t believe what she was hearing spill from her best friend’s lips. In a broken whisper, Y/N asked, “What? JJ—”

Spencer had turned to the blonde, his face that once held anger and confusion now held a look that Y/N couldn’t quite place. The blonde continued on, crying, ignoring Y/N’s cries, “And I was just too scared to say it before. And now things are just really too complicated to say it now, because I have Will and the boys and you have Y/N— I’m sorry, but you should know.”

Y/N’s blurry eyesight shot to her boyfriend, trying to see his reaction. And what she saw broke her heart in half. He smiled. He fucking smiled. He had a fucking smile on his lips and he was looking at JJ how he usually looked at Y/N. And maybe that was what hurt the most. Seeing the far away, lovestruck look in his eyes. 

Casey broke the heavy silence, his laugh was loud and bitter, gun lowered, “Hot damn. That’s what I’m talking about. Now those are some last words right there, but not good enough to save your life.” 

Casey leveled his gun on JJ’s forehead again, ready to pull the trigger. Y/N cried out, eyes slamming shut, she couldn’t watch this. Sure, her best friend had just admitted to having feelings for her very own boyfriend, but she was still her best friend. 

A gunshot filled the room. Y/N yelped, crying harder, opening her eyes after hearing a thud. Only, JJ was fine and Spencer was holding a gun, panting, keeping eye contact with the aforementioned blonde. Spencer had moved to cut his girl free first, helping her stand. Then he moved to the blonde who had just confessed her undying love for him. 

The brokenhearted girl watched as her boyfriend carefully cut JJ free, an unspoken conversation seemed to be flowing through them. Spencer had a look of peace on his face as Jennifer turned to look at him. It was like they had forgotten that Y/N was in the room, heart breaking. 

Spencer opened his mouth, to say something. To fix it, Y/N hoped. But before he could get the words out, the back door burst open, their team rushing in, and the spell was broken. 

The two moved away from each other. Y/N watched as how her boyfriend seemed to remember she was standing right there. She watched as he turned to face her, reach for her. She watched as he moved to comfort her. 

But before he had the chance, she ripped away from his gaze and left him standing in the small shop. Left him standing in the place where their relationship died. 

—

Six weeks had passed. Six weeks of sitting across from one another. Six weeks of stolen glances and regretful eyes. Six weeks of Y/N wishing, longing for Spencer. Hoping that he would come back to her and just say he was sorry. 

Sorry for pushing her away. Sorry for giving the heartbroken girl the impression that JJ was his girl. Sorry for making her feel like she was a second choice; for acting like nothing ever happened; for everything. 

She he’d been held up in her apartment, surrounded by all the things that reminded her of the pretty boy (apart from work, she barely left. and to say the team was very worried about the young girl was and understatement). Ironic, right? All she wanted was to forget about the curly haired boy and yet, he was all that plagued her mind. 

Y/N was surrounded by boxes, some taped shut and marked with what was inside; others only half filled, things hazardously sticking out the top. The memory that all the packages brought was a stab to her heart and a kick in her stomach. How dare they still be there; unmoved and happy. 

The once happy couple, who were together for almost four years, was all set to move in together. Y/N could almost imagine Spencer in the new, bigger and better, apartment all by himself. She could see him waking up before the sun and pouring himself a cup of too sweet coffee and re-reading books he had already read. She could see it all.

 She hoped it was lonely, that it held the same sadness that she was feeling. She hoped that he was just as miserable. 

She knew he wasn’t though. He couldn’t be. No, he couldn’t be. . . right? He had JJ now. He was happy now; he finally had what he always wanted— the pretty blonde girl that he had been in love with since day one. Day one of the BAU, day one of friendship, day one of birth— the girl that he was always meant to be with. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew how much she paled in comparison to the very beautiful girl. 

She could only imagine all the times that Spencer had wished that it was Jennifer Jaraeu instead of his loser of a girlfriend. She imagined all the fantasies that had to be playing in his mind every time they kissed, every time they laughed, every time they touched, every time they made love. 

Maybe that was what hurt the most; knowing that he had always wanted it to be her. The blonde. The beauty. The brains. The everything Y/N was not. 

A very loud ringing broke Y/N away from her intrusive thoughts. Again. She had thrown her phone across the room (not literally, of course. She had just dumped it on the counter along with everything else that she didn’t want to look at). She knew who it was; JJ. It had to be— everyday for the past month she had been calling, trying to apologize, explain, salvage what was left of their friendship. Jennifer had left voicemail after voicemail and text after text, trying to get the heartbroken girl’s attention. 

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely ignoring her old friend—no, she wasn’t that much of an asshole—, she would read all the texts received and listen to the messages (which actually, when she thought about it, that was probably even worse. maybe she was the asshole she tried so hard not to be). 

She even talked to her during cases (of which there had been two since the incident), but the second JJ had brought up anything to do with Spencer or what had happened, Y/N retreated into the shell she had created for herself. Though it wasn’t a perfect situation, it worked. It worked for her and that’s all that mattered. 

What she didn’t expect though, was a knock at her front door. She had considered ignoring it and letting whoever was at her door think she was out or asleep. Or literally anything else that would excuse her not moving from her pathetic slumped position. 

The knocking sounded again before his muffled voice flowed through the door, stopping her heart. “Y/N, I know you’re in there.”

She sighed (he did too). Her heart was in her throat (so was his); she hadn’t seen him outside work for longer than she cared to admit. She stood and felt her body drag her to the wood that separated her and her pretty boy. 

And before she knew what was happening, Y/N was swinging the door open, Spencer was standing before her— distraught. 

“Why do you look like that?” She asked, deadpanning. There’s that asshole bit rearing its ugly head again. It wasn’t fair that he looked so strung out, he did this. This was his fault. Her hand was resting on the door, barricading him out and her in. 

“What?” Genuine confusion crossed his face and Y/N almost felt bad. Almost. “Y/N, we haven’t talked in weeks.”

“We talk at work.” Short and unforgiving. He sighed at her words, running a very gorgeous hand through his curls, breaking apart a few. A part of Y/N, a very, very small part, wished it was her fingers pulling apart his crazy mane. She missed how soft his hair was, the way he smelled. She missed how with just one touch she could feel all of the stress leave his body. She missed how he looked at her. She missed it all and she hated herself because of it. 

“Don’t be so obtuse.” The regretful boy started and Y/N could feel her heart breaking all over again, “I mean, for real. . . Y/N, I miss you— I miss us.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” A knife to his heart, she could tell. Good. He deserved this; he deserved to hurt just as much as he had hurt her. 

“That’s not fair, she—”

“No,” the heartbroken girl began, a sadness in her voice. “you don’t get to decide what’s fair and what’s not— especially when it comes to my feelings, Spencer Reid.”

He was still standing in the hallway, eyes begging to be let in. The pleading didn’t go unnoticed; maybe that’s why she found herself opening the door and dropping her arm, watching as he moved inside. 

He was still her boy. Her beautiful boy. No matter what he or JJ had done, Spencer Reid was still undeniably hers. No matter what she was still under the spell of his gorgeous browns.

The sad boy followed her into the living room, taking in the scene. He felt his breath hitch as his eyes swept over all the boxes and the mess that covered the once happy apartment. He could just about throttle himself; he couldn’t believe he had let this happen. That he had let it get this bad— he was such a fucking idiot. 

Y/N watched as his curious eyes took in everything before him, committing it to his never forgetting memory. She knew that, regardless of anything, he would always come back to this moment. She knew that he would always blame himself. Spencer Reid had such a big heart and that was probably his one and only fault. Regardless of any hurt he may have caused her, she knew deep down that he hadn’t meant to. He would never intentionally hurt anyone, and maybe that’s why she asked her next question:

“Why are you here, Spencer?” She had pulled his eyes back to her. 

Swimming in regret, he said, “I want to fix this.” Y/N had begun to shake her head and opened her mouth but he cut her off, continuing, “Please. . . Y/N, tell me how I can fix this.”

“I-I. . . Spencer, I don’t know if you can.” Heart breaking more than she thought possible. 

Then, he did something she would’ve given her life to never see. 

Spencer got down onto his knees, now eye level with the girl on the old couch. He placed a hesitant hand on her knee and squeezed. When Y/N met his gaze, she felt her heart break its final piece. His eyes were glossed over with unshed tears and when he spoke his voice was wet with the cries he was trying so hard to push down. And Y/N hated it. 

“Y/N. . . please,” he was begging. Begging to be heard, to be forgiven, for her. Just begging. 

Against her own wishes, Y/N’s hand reached out and pushed back the hair like she had been wanting to since he showed up at her doorstep. “Spencer, I— There’s things we’d have to talk about— questions I have. I-I can’t just jump back in, we have to talk about—”

“Then ask me.” The crying boy rushed out, sniffing. “Ask me anything.”

Y/N sighed. Did she really want to do this right now? Could she handle this? 

“Do you love her?” It spilled from her lips before she knew what she was asking. She didn’t regret it.

His answer spilled from his too, “Yes.” Maybe she did. 

Tears spilled from her eyes and she struggled to hold down a sob. It came out as a watery laugh and she stood up, forcing his hands off her body. She closed her arms around herself, another barricade from the boy who refuses to stop breaking her heart into a million little pieces. He stood up too, reaching a hand to connect them together again but decided against it, too afraid of being rejected. 

Her mind was running a mile a minute. She was kicking herself for trusting a man who was so clearly into another woman— a married woman. She was so angry that he led her on for so long. She wanted to throttle him; she could’ve too, if she really wanted to. As much as she wanted to, she knew her body would never do it. As angry as she was, her body was still irrevocably in love with Spencer Reid. 

“Then why are you here?” It was dangerous. She half wished he wouldn’t answer, she didn’t know if she could handle the answer. 

His reply was slow to start, she wondered if he had even heard her, “. . . Because, I love you, too. I love you differently.”

“What?” She was tired. So, so fucking tired. 

She felt his hand place itself on her shoulder, she didn’t react. She didn’t move, didn’t lean into it. She just froze and waited for his response. Spencer surprised her for a third time. His hand moved down to her elbow, turning her around gently before starting his monologue. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground as he spoke. 

“Y/N, I’ve known JJ for over 14 years. When I first met her, sure I wanted her to notice me,” he paused to laugh before continuing, “I even tried to take her on a date one time. . . she ended up inviting Penelope. . . I was mortified. . . that’s not my point. Hell, I don’t really know what I’m saying. I tried for so long. I tried to get her to notice me, but then she met Will and then she had Henry and everything got so complicated. And I realized, Y/N, that I had to let her go, and then I met you and everything changed.”

Y/N’s eyes finally met his brown ones. She echoed him, “Everything changed?”

Sappy and clumsily, he laughed, “Yeah. Y/N, everything— everything changed. Suddenly, instead of wondering what Jennifer thought I was thinking about you— thinking how to talk to you, what you liked, if you liked me. God, I was so into you back then. . . I still am. I won’t lie to you, Y/N, I never have and I won’t start now. Yes, I love JJ. I think I always will, it’s just different. I love her, but I’m in love with you. And I always will be, I-I mean, you’re my girl.” 

During his confession, Y/N had moved closer. She had hesitantly placed her hands on his chest, where they belonged— she realized. “Spencer. . .”

His eyes were soft as they gazed down at her. They held love— the love that she had seen focused on JJ all those weeks ago. He brought a hand up to her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. It felt like it was forever, them just looking— gazing, falling back in love. Then, she watched as her boy started, very, very slowly, to lean down. She felt his lips just barely brush against hers, his breath fanning her face as he spoke. “Y/N, please.”

And that was all that it took. The desperation in his voice was what made her finally, finally, connect their lips. It was just as wonderful as she remembered. His lips fumbled lazily against hers; she could feel the love though the sloppy kiss. He had brought his other hand up, fisting her hair into a messy bunch. Her hands pulled him closer, her lips spreading as she felt Spencer’s tongue dart across her lips, asking to be let in. His name fell from her lips in a hungry manner, she wanted him. She needed him. The only sound in the small apartment was their moans and the noise of them reconnecting. In between kisses, Spencer managed to sneak in the few words Y/N was sure she’d never tire of hearing.

“I. . kiss. . love you. . . kiss kiss. . so much. kiss. . .Y/N.” She had smiled against his lips, feeling like everything would be okay. While she knew they had more than enough healing to do (both together and apart), she also knew that she wasn’t going to lose him anytime soon. And that was all that mattered, because the rest would figure itself out. 

[confused-as-all-hell]

bestie listen. LISTEN. OTHER PEOPLE ARENT YOUR RESPONSIBILITY AND THEY CANNOT BLAME YOU FOR THEIR ACTIONS. YOU ARE THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE. THERE IS NO POINT IN ABANDONING YOUR REAL AND VERY IMPORTANT LIFE FOR A DISCORD SERVER. IF YOU NEED HELP, YOU NEED TO KNOW THAT IM HERE. YOU SHOULD NOT BE THIS STRESSED ABOUT THE SERVER, BESTIE. ASK OTHER PEOPLE FOR HELP. TAKE BREAKS. DO WHAT YOU LOVE. NONE OF US BLAME YOU FOR ANYTHING AND I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH /gen

but they are.

it was my fault that i started all of this, and i feel so fucking bad, and right now i honestly want nothing more than to hide myself away and never again show up, and sometimes i want to ditch social medias and my writing and the whole wide world,

but i never want to hurt anyone.

i can't. it's this intricate flaw, a hitch in embroidery, a wrongful key in a solo. i'm always so angry, and my dad once told me, i take pride in those awful things, because i'm just like him. i inherited his warmth and laughter but also his terrible temper, and i want to just be sad and quiet but i'm too furious for that and,

i have to be better.

i feel so fucking bad for this whole thing, and i feel worse for my anger, and it's not even this, but i keep dreaming these vivid dreams, and i want nothing more for them to be real. but there's a world here. and things to do. and people to meet.

i'm no peacekeeper. i was never so soft and lovely. i don't know how to fix this all, and i dont mean the recent things, i mean everything, right?

anyways. i'll be back on my bullshit soon. how are you?