#feeling a little like if I have nothing to contribute I’m worthless

[tboygareth]

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[mediapen]

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[thislovintime]

Peter Tork and his grandmother, Catherine McGuire Straus (in photo 2 at the premiere of Head, 1968; photo by Art Zelin/Getty Images).

“One of my favorite people in the world is my ‘Grams,’ Mrs. Catherine McGuire Straus. She lives in Manhattan in the West 50’s. She calls Colgems regularly to check on our record sales, keeps an enormous scrapbook on the activities of the Monkees (favoring me a little bit, of course), and she visits all the record stores regularly to make sure that they are well stocked with Monkees singles and LP’s.” - Peter Tork, 16’s The Monkees: Here We Are (1967)

Many are no doubt familiar with Peter’s grandmother’s contributions to U.S. teen magazines. A few things that might have have fallen through the cracks of Tork and Monkees history are his grandmother’s letters to two British music magazines in 1967...

“As the grandmother of one Monkee, Peter Tork, I have received hundreds of delightful letters from British fans of the Monkees. Recently there have been complaints that some magazines do not print pictures of Peter when they are doing a story on the Monkees. But I find Monkee pictures fairly well distributed in all the pop magazines, though Davy Jones more or less rules the roost! Also received complaints about Peter not appearing with his co-Monkees when they were in London in February. I would assume that the working hours he has every day, seven days a week, are not conducive to his spending a vacation with one’s workers. And I assure you Peter has a mind of his own, so he couldn’t be persuaded to join them. He’s at last been seen and heard — ‘fine’ by his British fans. Do hope the concerts were a SMASHING success — to use a Britishism!” - Catherine McGuire Straus, Disc & Music Echo, July 15, 1967

“Having belatedly read the article by Jeremy Walsh on the Monkees, as the grandmother of one Monkee — Peter Tork — I resent it. It seems to me unnecessarily nasty and rude. His attacks on the group are peculiarly venomous, considering that the Monkees cannot have done anything to promote such anger and, in fact, are the delight of most critics. Well, there’s no use laboring the point. One can only wonder why the hostility. And why make comparisons with the Beatles. Either the Monkees are good in their own right or they’re not. There’s nothing else to consider, is there. Incidentally Peter was marked for the academic world, where both his parents teach. He flunked out of college twice. After his sojourn in Greenwich Village and the concert tours, decided he’d head for the West Coast and Hollywood — every actor’s Mecca. Over 400 applicants auditioned for the Monkees — Peter was one of the four selected and so the Monkees were born etc. Last, but not least, the U.S.A. helped to bring fame and fortune to the Beatles and their super manager, Brian Epstein. Let the British do likewise for the Monkees.” - Sincerely yours, Catherine McG. Straus, Record Mirror, April 8, 1967

“I received hundreds of delightful letters, many of which I answered, in answer to my protest about the article on the Monkees by Jeremy Walsh. All I want is for these charming teenagers to know how grateful I am for their love and devotion to the Monkees.” - Catherine McG. Straus, Record Mirror, June 17, 1967

Here’s part of the opinion of one Jeremy Walsh, referenced by Peter’s grandmother:

“If four good-looking boys, with no talent, can top the charts — can beat the sales of real stars — then it’s all worthless. I’m not saying they can’t play at all. I’m saying that they can’t play well. I’m also saying that their TV series, fount of 90 per cent of their disc fame, is blatantly based on the earlier Beatle films… and that they owe a lot of their disc hits to Beatle influences. I’d feel less strongly about them if only they had tried to adapt something completely new. It’s like some massive act of retaliation by the Americans, still smarting over Beatle-domination. […] The Monkee business really makes me smart. The only consolation is that it should be a short craze. Several people will make their million, then cheerfully abandon the whole project.” - Jeremy Walsh, Record Mirror, February 4, 1967

[blissfullyapillow]

It's okay to make mistakes

It’s okay to make mistakes

Genshin Impact

Alhaitham x gn reader

wc: 1,309

Notes: Self indulgent hurt/comfort, fluff, a personal favorite (*´ω｀*)

Back to Masterlist A

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

“If you have time to cry you have time to write.” Alhaitham’s words strike a chord in me, and I can’t help but wince as I quickly subdue my sniffles.

“..Sorry.” Is all I manage to murmur without my voice breaking.

I resume writing the hopefully eloquent academic essay I want him to critique. Although I asked Alhaitham to critique my paper, I’ve already heard others’ opinions on my work. The responses were… not what I was hoping for. I’m only getting started and I have minimal experience, but from the feedback I’ve received it feels like my actions are often misunderstood and my best efforts are in vain.

As I recall an encounter I had with a scholar earlier, I wince and internally scold myself for my foolish behavior.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

“Why are you laughing?” The scholar asks me. “S..Sorry! I was laughing at myself for making such a silly mistake and-“ “I don’t care. Pay attention and don’t laugh in a situation like this. Laughing can be taken the wrong way.” I sheepishly nod knowing the scholar isn’t wrong, so I quickly quieted down and finished the task.

It irks me that the scholar is scolding me for laughing when I originally overheard the scholar laughing at me when I made a foolish mistake. Realizing what I did wrong, I joined in on the laughter and laughed at myself. So suddenly my behavior is wrong when you were the one originally laughing at me? I make sure to mask my frustration and continue listening to the other critiques the scholar has about my work. Figures, most of it seems to be due to something I lack.

I try not to get too down and finish hearing out the scholar before I’m excused. Although the critiques weren’t incorrect in any way and I’m only a beginner in my field of expertise, it still stings to know I missed so many things. I shake it off and take my leave. Hopefully Alhaitham can help me improve my work.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   ♡　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

Just remembering the scene makes me cringe at my own misgivings. Even so, it’s a learning process and it’s okay for me to make mistakes. I just wish my mistakes didn’t make me feel worthless and unworthy of anyone’s time.

To make matters worse, it’s hard to tell which criticism I receive is constructive or not. It’s hard to tell due to the tone the Scholar used when they gave me information on areas I can improve in. I’m grateful for the critiques the scholar offered; of course I need to make sure I’m open to criticism in order to improve, but everything’s just… hard. 

Despite the hours I’ve dedicated to my studies and learning, my lack of experience continues to remind me that I have a long way to go. It’s not as if I’m not improving, but it’s a slow improvement.

It's frustrating. 

It’s like I’m stagnating while the grass continues to grow greener in other’s meadows.

I know I shouldn’t feel this way; I’m doing just fine for where I am now, and slow improvement is better than no improvement at all. Still, I can’t help but beat myself up and feel discouraged over the little errors I’ve made. Am I even making a contribution? Do my words matter? Is this the right career field for me? Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead and-

“Ow!” I rub the back of my head and turn around to glare at the offending rolled up stack of papers in Alhaitham’s hand. “I told you to stay focused. What’s with the dazed out look? It’s irritating me.” Alhaitham scoffs as he leans over me, his chest hovering over my back.

“This is all you’ve written in the past five minutes?” Alhaitham chastises me. As much as I appreciate Alhaitham’s straightforward attitude, I can’t handle it at the moment. “My apologies. I just need a moment.” I quickly splutter out a reason to leave.

I abruptly stand up, my chair scraping against the floor. The scribe of the Akademiya says nothing as I leave the room. As soon as the door shuts I look around to confirm I’m alone.

Of course I am. I was in Alhaithams’ private study.

I let myself slide down to the floor and curl in on myself.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

Thankfully I don’t full on bawl, but all it takes is a measly tear to escape my eye before I’m silently crying.

Okay, great. Yay me, crying! Right outside Alhaitham’s private study no less! Woohoo!

I release a frustrated sigh and allow a few more tears to escape before I viscously rub my cheeks and puffy eyes. I stand up and take a deep, albeit shaky, breath and re-enter Alhaitham’s study.

Alhaitham keeps his eyes trained on me as I walk back over to him. When I move to sit down however, he quickly pulls me back by my arm. I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but he lifts my chin and looks into my eyes before I can say anything.

Dammit. He’ll know that I was crying, it’s obvious when I do. My eyes get a little red if you pay attention, and I’m sure my cheeks are still wet with my previous salty tears.

“I-It’s not what you think I I really just needed a break and…” I trail off when Alhaitham pulls me against his chest. His hand smooths my hair back as he gently scolds me. “I told you not to push yourself. You can’t improve if you hold yourself back. We all make mistakes, but it’s important that we reflect on them and learn. It may not make it easier to accept and acknowledge that you made the mistake, but it becomes easier with time. It’s okay, we’re not perfect. And we don’t have to be.” His tender words carry my sorrow with them.

I’m embarrassed by the choked out sob I let out before I’m weeping against his chest, but Alhaitham remains silent as he lets me cry against him.

I hate showing my emotions like this and being vulnerable, especially in front of a man like Alhaitham, but…

For once I don’t feel ashamed.

In the embrace of Alhaitham’s strong arms I feel loved and cherished for who I am, with all of my faults and all of my strengths.

Once I regain my composure and no longer feel the need to cry I quietly thank Alhaitham for being there for me. “Of course, it’s not only my duty as your boyfriend to be there for you but.. I also want to be someone you can come to and confide in. I know I’m not the best at this stuff but.. you can rely on me. Now, tell me who made you cry so I can kick their ass.” I guffaw at his sudden change in demeanor and his bold tone, and I burst into laughter when I catch the murderous glare in his stern eyes.

It’s this freeing kind of laughter that you only feel after you’ve cried your eyes out until you’re satisfied. No, nothing has changed after I’ve cried, but it will. With time. I will continue to work hard, and through my hard work and efforts I will see gradual self improvement and growth though the marching of time.

“Oh, Alhaitham. I love you.” I giggle as I wipe a tear from my eye, but this time the tear isn’t full of self doubt and worry. “Of course you do. I love me too… and I love you, I guess.” He complains when I smack his chest at his sassy remark, but I don’t miss the looks of relief in his eyes and the small smile on his lips.

[strooples]

Skip to Loafer, chapter 45 analysis

So I wanted to do an Ujiie analysis from chapter 45. Why? Because lately, this scene…

…has been on my mind a lot! *Lowkey since the job market is hell in my home country, and I’m starting to really relate with the panel above and the feelings of distress lol.

And I think the insight into Ujiie’s insecurities are something very valuable the author has managed to provide us in just a simple chapter. Especially since a lot of the things he struggles with are stuff that a lot of people are starting to feel too. So even beforehand, we’ve been established a few core details anout Ujiie! Like how he’s studious and very reclusive/unwilling to respond to those around him. And now, we have some new information to build upon the core traits we know of. Namely:

How he’s been bullied before by other people around him. Ones he describes as more popular, sociable, and good-looking. Likely people he feels are able to fit in much better. As a result of being rejected by so many people, his exact thoughts are to turn down others when invited out. ‘Reject before you can be rejected’ is the logic of his rationale. Even when others are kind to him, he tells himself people only want to befriend him to be polite. Whether they’re genuine or not, the author doesn’t show us the people who invite him out are malicious. But we do see how distorted his thinking is — in that he can’t imagine anyone would WANT to be friends with him.

Self-rejection. It’s obvious here with the little arrows that say “Aiming for medical school” and “Wants to be a TV announcer,” he envies both his classmates’ good looks and aspirations.

His overconfidence is actually a facade for how unhappy he is with himself. We can see it in how he judges other people around him harshly. When in retrospect, he constantly tells himself that if he doesn’t have the appealing traits others have, perhaps he can one-up people with his academic capabilities — which falls apart when confronted with placement in an ultra-competitive & prestigious school where the best students of the entire country cluster in. It’s a realization Mitsumi had herself in the beginning too — where she found that being the best student in her small village doesn’t necessarily mean you are special when pitted against a school filled with incredibly smart and talented people.

So in a sense, he’s somewhat of a ‘gifted child finds out they aren’t special and now has a crisis’ situation where they have to cope, readjust, and find some form of acceptance. It’s a situation that happens to a lot of intelligent or talented people in real life, who’ve built their lives around being smart, or perhaps good in certain skills (art for example is one it happens a lot in). But once they leave their former environments and head towards a new one (perhaps upper education or a career involving a lot of equally-skilled and passionate people), they gain new perspective that others can also excel even better. Leading many to wonder where they place in the world lies, or how the identity or self-esteem they’ve built crumbles around them.

Gifted child crisis moment.

What does that lead to? How Ujiie genuinely feels so insecure that he stakes his entire self-esteem on academic performance and the abilities to get a good career. I think this one is especially depressing because in our high-pressure world, this ‘I’m worth nothing if I can’t achieve or accomplish’ sentiment is becoming more common. Ofc the schooling system in Japan with its brutal drill of exams, the equally-brutal job market, and the heavy social & familial pressures all contribute to Japan-specific cases — like the citations of many teens and young adults under the Japanese structure. But this problem has always been present with young people globally to an extent, where people are made to feel worthless if they can’t build up an image of accomplishment. It’s why you often get people who feel guilt when they can’t work when their health is down, or if they can’t finish schooling by a certain age. It’s why people often overwork themselves, neglect their own mental + psychological needs, or feel like their life is hopeless without the perfect career. It’s why most people often feel there’s this looming time limit to reach the metrics of life in regards to education, career, and family — or else they feel like a failure.

Which brings me to my last point: That Ujiie deep down is sad that he can’t not only make a friend, but that he doesn’t deserve a friend. I think a lot of his monologue indicate that he doesn’t feel he deserves a friend. He feels worthless, indistinguishable, and unable to connect with others. He can be judgmental, harsh, and very blunt (looking at the way he refers to Mitsumi). It’s partially why he values and prides himself with his schoolwork so much; it’s a way for him to feel there’s something good about himself. So removing the one trait of esteem he has — built on a very fragile backing — leads him to have nothing to fall back on. And where does that need to be special come from? From wanting to connect with others. From wanting a friend (like the idea of appealing to an employer by seeming exceptional is, in a sense, linked to the idea of envying those special ‘stand-out’ traits in many of the people he’s met that allowed them to have so many friends). That desire to shut people out? It’s actually because deep down, he already rejects himself and believes everyone will too.

In a way, this made his admission to Mitsumi of how he judges her as an admission to his own misjudgment, facade of arrogance, and how she has things he desires too despite being in a situation he was initially in. It seems harsh, blunt — in the typical Ujiie style we’ve been introduced to. But it’s a moment of humility, a show of vulnerability, an acknowledgment that deep down, he seeks to be the same: Someone who is cheerful, kind, and has friends who genuinely accept them for who they are.

Ujiie’s conclusions.

So really, he has this moment of vulnerability where he finally admits to himself that he WANTS to change. He wants to be able to open up, to be accepted. He doesn’t want to push away people out of fear that he’ll be rejected anymore.

That significant moment he has the revelation.

But something happens here that’s interesting, because he’s understimated one more thing.

With our knowledge of Mitsumi as the main character, we know that unlike some of the people who have bullied Ujiie before, she didn’t initially have it easy. She struggled too in the same ways as Ujiie was, in terms of fitting in with her new academic environment & Tokyo. She’s struggled with losing her sense of self worth, in the sole thing that she’s staked such a big part of herself and her feelings of pride & accomplishment in. She seems to be adapting well, because outwardly she reacts a LOT different than Ujiie. But similarly to him — despite being such different people — she’s bottled up her own feelings too.

Mitsumi’s moment.

It’s so interesting to see how empathetically this scene was handled, because the issues in it aren’t unique per say but important nonetheless. We see a lot of people on a daily basis who probably feel the same way both Ujiie and Mitsumi do deep down. And it’s a crushing feeling, one that’s terribly common in our world.

So the author has managed to hit the mark on a lot of points: Our global achievement-oriented cultural pressures, self-esteem, the gifted child trope, envy, misjudgment (like how Ujiie failed to see that it wasn’t easy for everyone else either), pushing others away, how bullying effects you in the long-term, and a desire for friendships and understanding — to be seen and accepted. All very complex topics, strung together with sensitivity and a resolution in mutual understanding between the characters.

< But yeah!! I just really wanted to pick apart this chapter and overthink about what I could find, ahah. >

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFJ, 27. Hi. I am a translator and I’m tired of the work I do. Admittedly, the fact that I work for an agency whose values and principles are not perfectly aligned with mine and occasionally has me do work that I’m not proud of might have contributed to this frustration. But I had the chance to do a traineeship abroad for a couple of months, and my feelings didn’t change. I also met many exceptional people from various backgrounds, with greater skills and experience than I, which brought into question what I thought were my unique assets and talents.

More background info: I majored in translation after dropping out of an economics course, which I absolutely hated at the time, convinced it was the right choice. I don’t want to go back to economics, but I also feel regretful of the choice I made. I didn’t know enough to have a realistic picture of the field.

I feel like my hands are tied now, because there are not many other job prospects or career ventures I can undertake with this specific major. This may be a cumulative issue of: facing my own limitations/hitting some kind of plateau, not feeling like a good professional and as if my best is not and will never be enough, the low pay, the fact that this is a job that involves a high degree of uncertainty all the time, coupled with tight deadlines, and I don’t feel able to cope with all of it.

I do cope with it, but it’s chipping away at something inside. I have had problems with passion and motivation and have felt very lost, particularly when it comes to career and what I can contribute in general. I’m considering whether I should try studying something else again, or specialise in a specific area, or somehow venture into a different field. The prospect of starting over does scare me a little, since I’m not in my early 20s anymore.

I understand any job has their own uncertainties, but maybe not to the same extent. I have realized I don’t know myself well at all, so I’ve considered doing aptitude tests even – I think I’ve completely lost touch with what I can offer to the world. I was hoping you could give me some perspective and clarity, maybe some key points to reflect on for a future decision and help me see if there’s any unrealistic beliefs I’m holding onto. Thank you.

-----------------------

Questions for reflection:

1) What does it mean to "start over"? Are you saying that in the years you've been working, you have not learned anything which could be utilized in another job/career? I suppose if you're nothing but an empty shell of a person faking your way through life, then it would be reasonable to fear starting over, because you'd finally have to face down your own vacuousness. If that's not the case, then your thinking is extreme and won't lead you to make rational evaluations. Perhaps what you need is a career counselor to guide you. They could help you organize your thoughts and weigh your options. They could take you through aptitude assessments to pinpoint your assets and identify potential for development. They could help you conceptualize your soft skills and transferable skills and how they may be applied to future endeavors.

2) What do you believe you should be? Are you saying that you're worthless unless you can be "the best", live up to some "perfect ideal", or achieve "greatness" in whatever form you imagine? Do you define people as "good"/"worthy" only through how skilled, competent, or successful they are in their career? Do you believe that the main source of meaning in life is derived through paid work? Whatever standards you use to evaluate your worth, ensure that you have chosen them wisely, otherwise, you'll keep suffering self-esteem problems (unhealthy Fe).

3) What do you imagine your life should look like? Are you saying that there's only one right way to live life and you're doomed as soon as you've deviated from that path? If this is what you believe, then you've trapped yourself within your own naive and rigid thinking. Life is full of uncertainty and ambiguity. You could choose the negative interpretation and descend into fear or pessimism. Or you could choose the positive interpretation and embrace the freedom to explore new possibilities. Your perception of yourself and your life is fully within your control. Until you realize this, you'll keep trapping yourself in limiting ideas and false beliefs (unhealthy Ni).

[yesterdayiwrote]

Ok, I will drop this here in anon form because I need to vent a little and though I'm trying to be as rational as I can, there are so many thing that are adding on top of one another as of late that I'm starting to really dislike. So, I read Lewis' newest bbc interview, and ok, I'm not a team insider so wtf do I know, right? I still don't like they wording he used when talking about George's technical work within the team. I can't help but feel it a bit belittling tho it makes perfect sense 1/2

Hey anon! Feel free to vent! I feel your pain, I’m a chronic over thinker and so I do find myself deeply analysing this stuff on the regular so trust me, you’re not alone.

I’ve always had some questions over the “Lewis sacrificed everything to run experimental set ups and George did nothing” narrative. Was Lewis forced into running experiments by the team or did Lewis choose to run experiments out of sheer determination to find the answer. People have automatically jumped on the first but this article makes it sound more like the latter? And sure it doesn’t matter really, but it does if it’s being used as a stick to beat the other with. George chose to run conservative set ups and benefitted from it, but equally Lewis’ data is worthless without the standard data from George’s car for comparison. It’s still team work.

I think some of the wording is unfortunate and a bit clumsy and I would hope not intentional however I do feel like Mercedes are incredibly bad at protecting their drivers when it matters. They make a big song and dance about Valtteri all the time now, but they very much hung him out to dry last year when he was really struggling and I worry slightly because I can see the same happening again with George. Of course Lewis is their star attraction, but George is their driver and they also have a duty of care towards him.

Toto is the one making comments about them all being little kids left in the rain, but he’s simultaneously harping on about tough love and I think there’s definite limits to that that he maybe doesn’t always recognise. We don’t see the full workings of everything behind the scenes of course but as people have started turning on George it’s almost felt like it’s come from all angles. He’s stated a few times recently that he’s suffering from self doubt, and so seeing Toto contribute to that, along with everyone suddenly saying he’s the worst driver and simultaneously undermining what he has achieved in order to acknowledge that maybe Lewis hasn’t done as badly as everyone tried to imply at the start…it’s not very nice seeing all that happen at once because it feels like a fast track to some kind of spiral if you’re not equipped to deal with it.

I think it’s sadder to me because George is SO vocally outspoken on supporting Lewis and Mercedes, even downplaying his own results at the start of the season, that it does feel kind of sad not seeing that entirely reciprocated whether that’s verbally or via the team social media or whatever. Although I think it’s easier to ruminate when you’re in a fan position and you end up ultimately reading and processing everything that’s said about a driver you like. It is very easy to feel parasocial about it, even if it’s from a protective place. Not worrying about things I can’t control is still something I’m trying to master so I’m not the best person to advise in that sense! At the end of the day, we know he’s had a great season all things considered, the rest of it. The results will go in the history books and the ultimately meaningless discourse won’t 🤷🏼‍♀️

[indianfartysummers]

I don’t know what’s funny Tobin Bell the fact that you have a fictional daughter named Cooper Bell that is such a funny joke

It’s just so funny that you guys think it’s funny to destroy the innocence of a little girl and then I guess Tammy inherits money, huh?

Josh honey you don’t keep my work and you will be killed before you are 50 years old. I can promise you that baby before you are 50 you will be buried underground you will be dead you fucking worthless, incestuous bag of nothing you and your wife and all of your lies you’re all over.

Kill yourself

You will anyway honey

 When did we start giving that kind of charity to inbred’s anyway Megan and Josh clearly want to be killed

Inbeedds

Well

I have a strong feeling that there are already people who don’t like Josh, Megan, and Tobin enough to probably have all of them killed, because there is nothing special about any of those racist bags of shit they will not contribute to the medical world they will not contribute to the poetic world. They will not contact contribute to science.

And I am not contacting any of you directly. You can go kill yourselves every single one of you, Megan go kill yourself, Josh go kill yourself Tobin you were already dead a long, long time ago baby boy a long, long time ago sugar baby.

Man tries on something new at age 81 so when he gets killed by the police and they cut his legs off with a saw, he doesn’t understand what’s going on

The cops found out that you guys were taking from Little children and laughing about it, and then trying to fabricate fictional little stories, so that you could get away from relationships because people were serious

Josh and Tobin will lose their legs for their little games as well that dumb fucking Cunt redhead I saw at T.J. Samson pavilion

Well little babies, Josh thought he was so funny

This is not going to end. Funny for you, Josh.

I said this is not going to end funny for you, Josh .

Josh and Megan and Tobin felt insulted because they said that Canada said go fuck yourselves because Josh thought it was just so gosh darn funny to cross all of my personal boundaries and now all of these motherfuckers are to be tortured and killed disposed of none of you are of any use. In fact, there are so many great actors out there that Tobin Bell was very very lucky to even have that role written by.

Written by

Come on guys come on who wrote it

Come on guys

Come on, you can do it come on

I didn’t say

Yeah I did put Rebecca Cooper.

Yeah Oside Kim, they are aware of the fact that you obviously don’t have good boundaries because you don’t understand things about style clearly

Oh dead Kim.

Why does it feel so provincial he and those people are just too much I don’t like the outside Kim I don’t like that. Yeah yeah yeah and I think there’s a reason that I’m constantly not liking those people I thought like you know you’re being negative Rebecca.

End it in well no because it had a lot to do with the fact that they would just really be chasing very specific things and when you don’t have that kind of understanding, leave it alone, I don’t want you chasing me to be honest with you like I I want to try to understand boundaries and if I let you just take everything of my essence, you do not understand motherfucking boundaries. No I’m gonna be honest with you also side Kim, your life is going to be over or you can lose your legs, but the thing is like I’m not thank you sweetie pie. Thank you you and I will talk about this garbage later but you’re not side Kim You’re girlfriend so you go fuck yourself honey.

[etherealhiraethsworld]

I am mad.

For 17 years, I’ve missed out on friends. Sure I’d had some sleep overs and birthday parties, maybe weekends at the [race] track, but up until this year I’ve watched my friends go out and walk around town. I’ve listened to stories of them hanging out without me. I waited two years longer than I should’ve to get a job because my parents needed help at home and mom wanted me in the cities.

I had to get my own rides or wait until it was convenient for Dad to go to town in order to see my friends. My life has always revolved around Dad’s schedule. I felt SO guilty asking for rides and money to do these things. I’m standing in front of my mirror buttoning my shirt while my hands shake, eyes filled with tears, repeating “I’m fine” over and over again. I’m never allowed to break down or cry. I can’t break shit or scream or yell at anyone. I can’t say “Fuck you. Fuck off. Get out.” I want to scream and break things and fight people and I want to be allowed to be mad. I’m mad that I missed out on my childhood. I’m mad that I was always too scared to freak out, like being angry meant I wasn’t worth loving.

I’m mad. So god damn fucking mad I couldn’t have food or friends or be in clubs, but [step-mom] will spend 2 hours a day in the car so [little sisters] don’t go to a school that requires masks. I’m fucking furious that I had to grow up alone and that I never fucking had anyone there to wipe my tears and make it okay.

I am so fucking angry that I have to learn how to take care of myself emotionally and physically because no one taught me how. I learned yelling and greed and violence and take what you want and “I’ll give you a reason to cry,” “fuck you she’s a fucking bitch,” “you’re stupid,” “you don’t know anything.” I am fucking sick and tired of doing what’s asked of me. I want to break rules and sneak out and have fun. I want hugs and kisses and “I love you, it’ll be okay” and dancing in the rain. Popcorn on movie nights, sitting in the living room without fear of being shunned by a person who was a better mom than my own. I want “I’m happy you’re here, I’m happy you exist,” not comments about my self-harm and “you’re lazy,” “you’re weak,” “clean your room.” Do this, do that, don’t fucking complain. Oh you’re taking a nap? You better fucking not be, you contribute nothing to the family. All you do is sit on your phone and hide in your room. “Look who finally left their room.” Well FUCK YOU. Fuck you for not making me feel safe being myself, fuck you for the slurs, fuck you for convincing me that hating myself for who I am is a good thing, fuck you for making me think I’m worthless unless I work myself to the bone.

Fuck you for making me feel like I have to earn my place in this family. I don’t need to work or do chores without being asked or get perfect grades to be loved. My life doesn’t have to revolve around yours. I’m sick of hiding who I am and what I believe in for fear of being bullied by my own family. Fuck you all and fuck this stupid ass house, I hate this fucking town. Fuck you for making me feel like a bad person for eating. Fuck you for putting the idea in my head that keeping me alive and feeding me cost too much.

Fuck you for excluding me and telling the girls I don’t love them because I don’t hug them enough. Fuck you for making me feel like having the body I do is wrong. Most of all, fuck you for never fucking listening to me. I have to fight and cry and scream and wreck myself just to get you to hear me, and still, you don’t. I get good grades, I do my chores, I’m respectful and quiet and don’t bother anyone unless I’m asked and you still don’t fucking listen. I’m angry, I’m sad. I want to die, I want to be free, I want to be a child, I want to heal. I don’t want to have to break my body to be strong and make you happy. But that makes me weak. That makes me selfish. I can’t ask for help, I can’t be excited, I can’t have hopes and dreams. That’s all too selfish. How dare I want my own life. How dare I be or do anything except come home for you to poke and prod and make fun of. How fucking dare I be my own person with my own thoughts, wants, needs, and human nature.

I am not a burden. I am not yours. I do not and will never belong to anyone but myself. Being curious doesn’t make me selfish and wrong. Fuck you.

[fossadeileonixv]

Chelsea 3 Milan 0: Plus Weekend Whip Around!

Gonna skip actual player ratings and move on to what bothers me about our performance.

TOMORI WAS CRAP

This has been an ongoing problem all season now. We have now conceded 14 goals over 11 matches and only kept 2 clean sheets. He looks a step slow, far too often getting beat on the turn especially. Also, like happened against Chelsea on the Aubameyang goal, he’s making some relatively simply plays look much too difficult. I’m not sure if he’s feeling pressure to make the WC squad or perhaps he’s trying to take too much on during our title defense. Either way it’s not good. To be fair, the carousel at FB isn’t helpping. Time to simplify things and settle down a bit before this dip in form becomes long lasting. 

DOUBLE PIVOT DISASTER

For better or worse, Tonali and Bennacer are not the best fit together. Both wanna sit deeper as that extra CB. Neither has taken over that Box2Box destroyer role that Kessie occupied most of last year. I thought Tonali would be that guy but for whatever reason we haven’t seen that this season. He looks timid, kind of what we saw his first year at Milan. We did see him do it towards the end of last season as he scored a couple big goals down the stretch. So far we have seen little to nothing of Pobega, Adli of Vranckx so far. Perhaps we start seeing more of them soon. 

FB MESS

That was a shit show huh? Chelsea murdered us in the corners repeatedly outnumbering us, forcing us to react and then taking advantage of the spaces left behind. Over and over and over again. it reminded me a lot of what happened to us against Liverpool last year. Reminder Salah and TAA murdering us? This was a carbon copy. Guess where Chelsea’s best players are? On the wings! Oof. 

Let’s backtrack.

Why is there space? Dest and FBT were WAY TOO HIGH. Simple really. We can get away with this against Empoli and Sampdoria but not away to Chelsea. In games like this the FBs must stay home a lot more. Instead of staying high they need to pick and choose those runs. Very carefully. Simply having Bennacer drop between the CBs to make a 3 man backline isn’t gonna do against EPL teams. we get stretched too thin and killed by crosses. Sound right so far? 

So who is that on? Is it on the players for being too aggressive and ignoring their responsibilities? Is Pioli over there screaming for them to get back over and over agian? OR... is this on Pioli simply plugging these guys into the roles that Theo and Calabria play? That would be a big problem. FBT is not Theo by any means and Dest just got here 2 months ago. They should be keeping things simple. Stay home. Mind the wide positions. Limit crosses. Move up field to keep things connected but by no means do we need runs inside the 18. 

WHERE OH WHERE IS MY SAELEMAEKERS? 

If you still think Saelemaekers is worthless and serves no purpose, watch this game. God less king Krunic but i have no idea what he was doing. He dips centrally and leaves Dest exposed again and again and again. 

...

Moving on... to the WEEKEND WHIP AROUND!

SASSUOLO - INTER Sassuolo always plays Inter tough, including a huge win at San Siro last year that contributed greatly to Milan winning the title. Four losses in the league this early had the crows circling Inzaghi until the midweek triumph against Barcelona. Sassuolo has defended well all year and have finally found their scoring boots. Inter’s defense is creaky. That combo could lead to some fireworks. 

MILAN - JUVE Consecutive wins in the league and the CL has eased the Allegri chatter. Despite skepticism the Milik-Vlahovic combo is really starting to bear fruit. Even Rabiot had a brace against a bunch of farmers midweek. Milan meanwhile is in disarray due to form and injury. Fully expect a wild 3-3 draw. 

BOLOGNA - SAMPDORIA Bologna hit rock bottom a few weeks ago and hired Thiago Motta. Samp finally ended the Giampaolo experiment an now have a new coach of their own. They reached out to Red Star Belgrade and brought in Dejan Stankovic. Now the former inter teammates face each other in relegation battale neither they nor their longtime Serie A clubs expected. 

TORINO - EMPOLI Torino started the season on a nice run but have now lost 3 in a row. Granted they have had one of the toughest schedules to start the year. Juric will sort things out. Empoli on the other hand are having a tough time turning draws into wins. expect Bajrami and Lammers to keep at it and for their fortunes to trun. Not in this game though. 

MONZA - SPEZIA after dropping the first 5, Monza now have 7 points from 3. Stefano sensi has been the catalyst while Matteo Pessina has partner in crime. perhaps an earlier rebound than some expected. Spezia have struggled of late but thos losses are to Lazio, Juve and Napoli. look for Nzola and company to bunce back in this one. 

SALERNITANA - VERONA I told you all in the spring that Verona and Samp were in trouble. Well now Verona are in 18th and Samp in 20th. Listen to Nonno, ok? Look for Salernitana to pick up a win here to avoid a rut. Dia at the double and Verona continues to be a mess. LB Josh Doig a bright spot though. he will not be at Verona for long. 

UDINESE - ATALANTA A top 4 showdown! For real! Big question facing Atalanta coming into the year was whether Gasperini could do it again. Well so far he has! This time through solid defending and shrewd countering. No more wild, scoring fests. Big question facing Gerard Deulofeu his whole career is whether he could ever be less selfish and become a team player. If you would have told me 2 years ago this game would feature a high scoring team against the best defense in the league, i would have switched the roles. Must see game of the week here. 

CREMONESE - NAPOLI Napoli continue to clean up against the bottom feeders and Cremonese are the bottomest. that’s what you have to do to win a title though. 

ROMA - LECCE Roma are still having a heck of a time scoring. That seems impossible with the names on that roster. Lecce have started well, hanging their hat on a great season by Falcone in goal and a stout defense. By far the strangest sunday prime time game we’ve seen in a while. 

FIORENTINA - LAZIO Year 2 of Sarri ball and things are starting to look really good. Second highest scoring team in the league (17) while conceding the second fewest (5). Certainly helps that he’s got more and more of the pieces he wanted. Fiorentina have managed to keep their heads above water in the league AND keep things going in Europe. That despite struggling for goals. The Luka Jovic experiment is definitely NOT going as planned. 

Forza Milan!

Lisi

[skylerscull1]

When your mom wants help moving things and you start helping her out but then she yells at you for putting something away; something like that gives off mixed signals. That is what I just went through mere minutes ago.

Parents can be idiotic. What kind of motivator is yelling at your kid for doing what you asked? It doesn’t motivate anyone, it breeds resentment. I’m not going to just sit by and let her treat me like crap. No child should have to deal with being screamed at for trying to do a good thing. Nothing good comes out of it. 

After-all, what's the point of trying if it only generates more abuse? All that yelling, making them feel useless, it all can lead up to the kid cutting the parent out of their life completely when they’re of age to go out on their own. Yelling at them when they’re only doing what you asked them to is only teaching them to not try at all. 

So, when you ask your kid to help out, remember this: yelling achieves nothing. Don’t yell at them for doing what you asked, be patient, recognize what they’ve contributed and don’t take your anger out on them. If you want them to do something, ask, be kind - treat them how you’d like to be treated. Kids are people too, as are adults; we all should be treated with kindness. It’s hell to lose a family member, and depression can settle in quickly like poison - anything, no matter how little it seems to you, could set your kid or teen off. Nobody should be driven to cutting up their veins and bleeding themselves dry just to lose all that pressure, just to feel free and alive for once. 

So, parents: keep in mind that your tone, the words you say to them - those things stick to them, kids rarely forget when their parents have wronged them. Parents are meant to care for, protect and take care of their kids. What you do to your kids has an impact, and if you aren’t careful you might drive them too far and you might lose them for good. Yelling is a form of abuse, it’s considered verbal abuse to yell at your child, and that can make them feel worthless, depressed, it has an effect on them. Sometimes the consequences are deadly. Take it from someone who deals with abuse themselves, I’m severely depressed, I hate my mother sometimes and I most definitely resent her, I’ve considered it too. I may not go through with it, but other children might.

You never know what you’ll miss until you lose them for good.

[silversatoru]

megumi + gaslighting / iq reduction

pls mr fushiguro, undermine my intelligence every day, purposely keep me unstimulated until im ur dumb, dependent plaything ❤️

a present for you when you get off the plane <3 i took a slightly diff approach to this and i know ur degree is very much not related to science but science is all i know,, so idk,, pretend u were a bio major or something for the sake of this fic okay

megumi + gaslighting/iq reduction

tw: nsfw 18+, f!reader, college-student!reader x professor!megumi, dark content, gaslighting, heavy manipulation, iq reduction, dumbification, slight misogyny?

wc: 1.3k

you still remember the first day of mr. fushiguro’s class, and the way he seemed to pick on you of all people — the way he asked you to stay after class and immediately offered you a position on his team of research students. you remember questioning why he chose you instead of someone else, to which he affirmed that no one had quite the credentials that you did. and you were left wondering how he could possibly judge that on the very first day of classes.

you still remember the first time you showed up to the lab for said research group, the straps of your bag clutched nervously in your clammy palms. mr. fushiguro was a young but incredibly esteemed professor, and this was going to look great on your transcript, so you were nothing but a ball of excited jitters. and you were smart! you knew you’d be an excellent addiction to this team of students, and you were grateful for the opportunity.

or so you thought; but it quickly became apparent that you weren’t nearly as prepared as you thought you were. it seemed like everything you did was wrong — all of your experiment results were compromised, lacked accuracy, and were always rejected. it seemed like all the other students were excelling, and mr. fushiguro loved them — but he was always so frustrated with you.

if only you knew the frustration was a front. if only you realized that every experimental result you got was right, that every answer and every theory you came up with was painfully accurate. if only you knew that your struggles were entirely fabricated by mr. fushiguro and his ulterior motives.

eventually he made the recommendation that you do some remediation with him — a few one-on-one sessions to help sharpen your skills so you can contribute more to his research. so of course you said yes! because you wanted nothing more than to be helpful and you couldn’t understand what you were doing wrong.

so you attended the tutor sessions with your dark-haired professor; but they were less about learning and more about brutal criticism of your skills. mr. fushiguro berated and insulted your intelligence several times, making you falter at his words and wonder what you ever did to deserve to be involved in his research project in the first place.

“i just don’t think you’re cut out for this, ms. l/n”.

maybe you really weren’t cut out for this.

“your lack of skills has surprised me, i can’t say i’m not disappointed in your performance so far”.

you were disappointed in yourself too.

“you’ll have to put in a lot of extra work if you want to stay on the team”.

you’d do whatever it took.

you were always bright, always excelled in your science-related classes, so what was happening to you? why were you the weak link of his research group? why were you on the verge of failing his class? why was everything suddenly so hard?

you didn’t mean to break down in front of him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choked back sobs and hid your face behind your hands. it’d been building up for a while now: your frustration, your sudden lack of self-confidence, your feelings of inadequacy; they were all overflowing. but mr. fushiguro showed you zero sympathy, staring down at you with icy eyes and not a shred of mercy. you were exactly where he wanted you, and he was about to seal the deal.

“i really expected more from you”

those were the words that broke you in half, your fear of failure becoming all to real in that moment. but his next words halted your tears and created a small shred of hope in your despair.

“but i do want to help you. my door is open to you anytime. i have practice questions and study methods that i’m happy to share with you”.

and so here you were, anxiously sitting at his kitchen table trying to solve a few problems that he’d given you to practice. but you couldn’t seem to figure them out no matter how hard you tried — brain frying as you tried and failed over and over.

but it was all exactly as it was supposed to be — the problems were never solvable in the first place — there were no right answers — they were simply meant to melt your little brain.

you came back to his house time and time again, and each study session was worse than the last. you were never able to figure anything out on your own, you always needed his help, you couldn’t do anything without him.

it was no shocker when you began to admire him, depend on him, feel like you couldn’t do any schoolwork on your own. his months of manipulation were finally paying off, you were finally a dumb little thing who had no self confidence and who was constantly begging for his help. and he was happy to provide that for you, but you were going to have to start making it worth his time — his expert help doesn’t come for free.

you’re not sure what possessed you to agree, to have his cock lodged in the back of your throat while he groaned and leaned back in his seat — but you needed his help, this was just a small price to pay. you’d bob your head and choke on his tip as it pressed into your esophagus as if your future depended on it, because at this point, it kind of did.

but the prices kept getting steeper; eventually a quick blow wasn’t enough to appease mr. fushiguro. he wanted more. if you wanted to keep his help you needed to be face down and bent over his kitchen table — and so that’s exactly what you did.

brain foggy and knees aching your sweaty fingers grasped at the smooth table top as he took you from behind. his strained cock dragged against your sopping walls, your ass nearly bruising from how hard he was fucking himself into you. whimpers and moans overflowed from your lips as your bare tits pressed into empty worksheets — the two of you had completely glossed over the “studying” portion of your night tonight, skipping right to your payment.

you could barely even think straight, your head spinning with endorphins as you cried out in response to the tip of his cock kissing against your cervix. his fingers dug into the sides of your hips, pressing little red circles into your skin from how hard he grasped at you. your were shaking, your entire body pulsing with bliss each time he thrusted up into your cunt.

he was so happy with himself, balls deep inside one of the smartest students who had ever graced his classroom. he’d taken a girl with so much potential it was sickening, and convinced her that she was worthless, reduced her to a less than average student who was desperate enough to take her professor’s cock in exchange for better grades. you were pathetic, embarrassing even, laying here on your stomach and babbling complete nonsense while he filled you up.

all it took was patience and a sprinkle of manipulation to get you like this. to make you a dumb little fuck toy who came to his house several times a week under the guise of getting help with class work.

and he’d keep this up until you could barely even think for yourself — reducing you to a brainless little pet who deserves to be stuffed with cum and nothing else.

you didn’t belong in STEM, you didn’t belong in a university in general — you belonged right here on his kitchen table, your face sitting in a puddle of your own drool.

you were stupid, or at least he convinced you that you were so much so that you actually became it.

[moonbeamwritings]

annoyances and nosebleeds

Summary: In which you really hate Tōru Oikawa (or, more accurately, the time you realized that may not be entirely true).

A/N: this is my first haikyuu fic, so pls be very gentle with me! let me know what you think!

If there was one thing you knew with utmost certainty, it was that Tōru Oikawa was the single most annoying person you’d ever met. 

Not only did his gaggle of fangirls make you late for class at least once a week, blocking nearly the entire hallway as they giggled and whispered among themselves about who was giving Oikawa a present this time, but the boy himself was arguably more obnoxious— if that was even humanly possible.

He was aggravating and smug, always teasing you about his higher grades and poking and prodding at you for being single. So what if maybe, sometimes— on very rare occasions— you found his smile kinda cute in a “I want to punch him in the face” sort of way? You hated him and no amount of charm was ever going to solve that.

Right?

Your heart raced as your teacher worked through the list of partnerships for an upcoming project, leg bouncing restless as you waited, breath caught in your throat. As you heard your name being called, you prayed to whoever would listen that you wouldn’t end up with him.

Across the room, Oikawa was working through a similar internal monologue. He hated you in equal measure, that much was true. He hated your stick-in-the-mud attitude and the way you rubbed your grades in his face. He hated the way you glared at him and his fangirls in the hallways or the way you made a point of congratulating Iwa-chan on volleyball wins, but refused to do the same for him. 

He hated the confident lilt in your voice when you contributed something in class and the bright, almost blinding, light of your smile as you laughed with your friends at lunch. Well, maybe ignore that last part. Oikawa hated you. Plain and simple.

“... you will be working with Oikawa.”

Oikawa heard Iwaizumi and Makki snickering at the news, sending him teasing glances as they joked about his bad luck. Oh, if looks could kill.

Meanwhile, you’d decided that today, and the next two weeks where you’d be subjected to Oikawa’s company, was about to be the lowest point of your life. You couldn’t wait.

The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of an incredibly long day, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Oikawa sauntered over to your desk, teasing smirk already on his face.

This was gonna be good.

“It seems the tides of fate have blessed us both, hmm.” The way he spoke your name, tacking on a sarcastic honorific as he put on a front of sweetness, made your stomach churn.

“Trust me, Oikawa,” you bit back, closing your notebooks as you packed your things, “I don’t like this anymore than you do.”

He pouted, planting his hands on either side of your desk, leaning down to invade your line of vision, “I don’t know. I think you do. You are secretly in love with me, after all.” 

He watched in amusement as your face contorted in disgust, “and lest we forget I am smarter than you.”

“Bold words from someone who took a volleyball to the face last week.” You refused to look at him, shoving the rest of your things in your bag in an attempt to make this conversation as short as possible.

Your words only seemed to spur him on though. You could practically hear the way he was smirking, the bastard. “Hey, I thought you said you don’t come to our practices with all of my… hmmm, what did you call them again? Fangirls, was it?”

As you zipped your bag, he leaned over again, this time successfully getting you to look at him, “Are you a fangirl?”

With a huff, you stood from your seat, brushing your shoulder against Oikawa’s as you moved towards the classroom door. “I would rather keel over and die, Oikawa. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He caught up with you quickly, falling into stride with you as he shot a hand up to grip at his chest, “You wound me. I don’t think I can possibly go on.”

“Good,” you spoke resolutely. “Listen, I don’t want to talk to you any longer than I have to, so let’s make this as painless as possible. Just meet me in the library when you get out of practice.”

Without so much as a backward glance, you clicked your locker shut and ventured off, completely ignoring the mocking words Oikawa threw your way, whining about how he could really feel the love from where he was standing. Asshole.

The first meeting went about as well as you’d expected, with Oikawa arriving well after when you knew volleyball ended, seemingly more interested in making you suffer than he was in actually getting work done.

“Will you quit it? I’m not carrying this whole thing because you’re too lazy to do anything.”

He had his head resting in his palm, eyes memorizing the little crease between your brows as you got more angry. He wasn’t really listening to you and you could tell.

Sighing, you pressed two fingers against the inner corners of your eyes. “I hate you. Have I told you that yet today?”

“You might’ve once or twice. Or a hundred times. I’ve started to lose count,” he replied with a playful smile.

The next few meetings carried on much the same. You met with Oikawa after volleyball practice, you would get about an hour of work done before he began picking on you again, doodling on your papers or teasing you about being in love with him, and then you’d go home and complain about him to your friends.

Your life fell into an incredibly mundane cycle— go to school, meet with Oikawa, go home, and do homework— day in and day out. Until one particularly bad day sent you reeling, in more ways than one. You’d woken up late, forgotten an assignment, failed a test, and that was only the beginning of a very long list of grievances. It was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d been feeling the academic pressure for weeks; as if you had a storm cloud looming over you, invading your mind and making it harder and harder to work on your homework. You knew what needed to be done, but it never seemed like it was good enough, especially not today.

So, as you sat and waited for Oikawa’s practice to end, you allowed yourself to cry. Dark clouds usually meant rain, didn’t they? Hot, wet tears cascaded down your cheeks, slipping off your chin only to splatter across your papers, smearing the ink as they went. Furiously, you attempted to stop the flow, wiping tear after tear away until you finally resigned yourself to the pathetic mental image of what you must look like— alone, crying in some back corner of the library as you tried to muffle the hiccups that threatened to spill from your mouth.

In your flurry of emotions, you failed to hear the muffled thud of sneakers along the carpet.

“Hey,” a gentle voice called out, “you okay?”

Oikawa.

Bile slipped up the back of your throat at the idea of being caught by him, the sound of his voice nearly reinvigorating your tears as humiliation burned your skin. Barely able to muster the courage to speak, you simply nodded your head, wiping the remaining tears with the soft sleeve of your sweater.

Picking up your pen and completely ignoring the uneven sound of your voice, you began taking notes again. “Let’s just get to work.”

Oikawa was quick to sink into the seat across from you, mind reeling at what he’d just seen. His mouth fell open as he watched you, eyes still glassy, as your pen glided across your notebook.

You had just been crying. You didn’t really expect him to just carry on with the project, to just ignore the distress he’d walked in on, did you?

He gave you a hard time, pushing your buttons and making fun of you, but all along he’d assumed it was little more than hatred— physical and verbal manifestations of how frustrated he was that you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Now, with concern gripping at his chest after having seen you fall apart, he wasn’t quite sure what to think anymore.

“You’re not really about to act like nothing happened, are you?” A mirthless chuckle sounding from his throat, a tentative hand reaching out to stop your pen. “I know you think I’m an idiot, but this is downright insulting.”

“What do you want me to say, Oikawa? Don’t act like you’re some knight in shining armor after all this time.

Ow.

“I’m not heartless. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His words were short, leaving absolutely no room for debate. It was now or never.

“I’ve just felt a lot of academic pressure recently, that’s all.”

Oikawa nodded along and for once in his life, seemed to be genuinely listening to you. His hand hadn’t left yours.

“And?” He urged you to continue, leaning in slightly to take in your words.

“It’s just been a lot. I get good grades, sure, but it never seems good enough.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened, your words sounding all too familiar. He’d had these exact conversations with himself as he sat in front of his TV, watching volleyball footage over and over again. He was good, but there was always someone better. He knew how exhausting that could be, knew— too well — that nagging feeling of worthlessness despite hard work.

Maybe you weren’t so different after all.

“I feel like that sometimes too,” a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it squeeze of your hand, “maybe we can learn together.”

You didn’t respond, you weren’t sure you could. It was as if the entire image of Oikawa you’d crafted was crumbling, fragments of hatred tumbling to the sides to reveal, what you could only assume was the real him. And in this moment, though you’d never admit it, you were grateful.

You nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

Oikawa had to bite back a jest, some ridiculous passing comment about how he knew that you’d been in love with him all along, but he didn’t in favor of savoring the gentle smile you’d graced him with.

The rest of your little meetings were amenable and your encounters in the school hallways even more so. It wasn’t a complete 180, but it was definitely noticeable.

Your friends caught on to the shy smile on your face after Oikawa shot a wave in your direction and practically the entire volleyball team had seen Oikawa blush after he’d seen you at lunch one day. And both groups were going to get to the bottom of it if it killed them.

“You were at each other’s throats literally just last week,” your friend groaned, sending pieces of popcorn across the table and into your hair. “What the hell happened?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” your other friend piped in. “You actually considered going to volleyball practice the other day. You’ve never gone willingly.”

“And, you actually smiled at him in the hallway!”

You brought your voice down to a whisper, not wanting to be overheard talking about something so stupid, “I don’t like Oikawa. He’s annoying and full of himself. You guys are seeing things.”

They were unconvinced.

Oikawa hadn’t been faring much better.

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi smirked, “you sure changed your tune.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “What’re you talking about?”

Iwaizumi pitched his voice up, a poor rendition of his best friend, “I can’t stand them Iwa-can~ How am I ever going to survive?” He dropped the act seconds later, elbowing the other player in the ribs, “Meanwhile you actually seem to enjoy doing this project with them.”

Makki and Mattsun laughed along before Mattsun interjected, “Don’t forget the blush!”

“Oh,” Makki howled, “how could we forget? He looked like a pink highlighter.”

All Oikawa could do was huff. “I don’t like them.”

And boy was he wrong.

With the project coming to an end, Oikawa laid awake, staring at his ceiling as he thought about how exactly he’d spend his time now that you weren’t meeting with him in the library every afternoon. Would you keep hanging out? Would you come to his games? What if you stopped smiling at him in school, returning to the bitter back-and-forths that had been so common before?

Oikawa shot up in bed, chest heaving and eyes wide. He liked you.

Oh no.

Across town, cuddled under the comforter in your own bedroom, you thought about Oikawa— as you had been most nights since you became partners. As your mind wandered, you realized that by now, you’d memorized the color of his eyes and that you could decipher exactly which of his smiles were genuine and which weren’t. You smiled as you thought about the feeling of your hand in his, about how warm his skin had felt against your own.

Your heart was in your throat. You were heading down a point of no return, one in which only humiliation awaited you. You liked Tōru Oikawa.

How cruel.

On your walk to school the following day, you’d decided that avoiding him would be the easiest option from here on out. The project was done and you were saving yourself the embarrassment of falling for someone who clearly would never be interested. You’d convinced yourself that day in the library had been a fluke, a trick of the light. He didn’t like you.

You ducked out of sight when he was about to pass in the halls, you pointedly looked elsewhere during class— whatever you could to suppress whatever feelings you had for him. All the while blissfully unaware of the effect you were having on the setter.

He knew this would happen, knew that the moment the project was submitted you’d begin to act differently, but he hadn’t thought you’d ignore him entirely. He almost missed the biting tone of voice you used whenever you scolded him, at least then you were looking at him, speaking to him.

He’d been so out of focus that during practice he’d taken one of Iwaizumi’s spikes directly to the face, sending blood dribbling down from his nose.

“Go take a walk,” Iwaizumi demanded, waving a hand in the direction of the door. “You’re no good if you’re just gonna stand there like a love-sick puppy.”

Sighing in defeat, Oikawa headed off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he went. His feet carried him along the tile, looping through hallways until he found himself outside of the library. You wouldn’t be in there, right? You didn’t really have any reason to be, not anymore.

Whatever.

Body on autopilot, he followed the familiar path, counting stacks as he walked along the main aisle. Rounding the final corner and expecting to be disappointed, he pinched his nose harder.

You let out a squeak at the sight of Oikawa, supposedly in the midst of volleyball practice, emerging from the stacks like a zombie, nose bloodied, face red and shiny with sweat.

“What are you-”

“I like you. A lot.” He had no idea where the words came from, but he wasn’t about to take them back now.

“Ha ha, very funny. You haven’t used that one before.”

A look crossed Oikawa’s face— one you hadn’t seen since the day he’d caught you crying.

Sincerity.

Your stomach flipped, “You’re not joking.”

He shook his head, using the back of his hand to wipe away the blood that was still steadily trickling from his nose.

Oh.

“I like you too.”

A smirk crossed Oikawa’s face, a joking lilt taking over his serious tone, “I knew it.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, bringing a hand up to rub your thumb against his cheekbone. It was sticky with sweat, but it was either that or landing a kiss to his lips and interrupting his nosebleed. Gross.

“Wanna meet me back here after practice?”

“God, yes.”

[mbti-notes]

Hi, mbti notes, I hope you had a good break. I’ve noticed I can be a bit passive. I’m not always aware of it but every once in a while it’ll become apparent. For example, at work, I’ll register something in my mind (the customer needs clarification, the trash bin is full) but what I DON’T register is that I should/could act on it. It is only when a coworker jumps in to solve it, OR say something about it, that I realize, “Oh. I guess I could’ve done something/said something, too.”

[con’t: It is a little frustrating when I realize they said something I was already thinking but I just kept it to myself. Like I was one step away from being a more proactive worker. Not sure where this stems from. Maybe my introversion, maybe also the fact that growing up, my parent took responsibility for nearly everything. They are the I-don’t-trust-anyone-else-to-do-this-right type and doesn’t-accept-help type. So around the house I didn’t cook and rarely did chores. When I suggested getting a job as a teen they said I should just focus on school instead. In retrospect I realize I should’ve gone for the job and done more chores but I think my Ni was in overdrive — I was way more focused on writing, TV shows, and movies instead. I didn’t know what being independence or taking responsibility meant. This has kind of become a bad thing in adulthood (early twenties). I have an INTJ family member that’s VERY tidy, so when I’m messy, they make a note of it. I’ve been trying to be more aware. When I register a mess, I tell myself, “Don’t just walk past it, clean it.” So I’ve gotten a lot better. But every once in a while I miss something. Like I registered a fruit was going bad in the fruit bowl but put off throwing it away until my tidy family member discovered that it had mold on it. And in my head I’m like, “I could’ve just thrown it out the moment I noticed it was going bad. Why didn’t I?” And I really don’t know. Is this typical for an INFJ (my type)? How do I practice acting on my instincts?]

Do you believe that it’s important to be independent? What are the benefits of independence and are they worth your attention and effort? Independence is a state of mind that is nurtured by taking full responsibility for yourself and everything you touch. It is not a state of mind that is achieved overnight, especially given your background of being robbed of opportunities to learn responsibility. To nurture an independent state of mind requires that you continually refuse the “default mode” of waiting for others to step in. For example: If you want to live in a clean environment, YOU make it happen by cleaning it up. If you want your life to be better, YOU make it happen by changing what doesn’t work. If you want to have better discipline, YOU make it happen by implementing a strategy. But, do you actually WANT these things? To make something happen, you have to care enough to take action. If you don’t really care, then it’s all too easy to handwave things away, isn’t it?

Lack of caring usually relates to poor Fe development in INFJs. Fe development is required for feeling a strong sense of connection to the world and a strong sense of responsibility for creating a positive environment for everyone, including yourself. Healthy Fe doms understand how people are affected by the environment and, thus, they take it upon themselves to actively create a positive and supportive environment. Service and contribution allow Fe doms to feel pride through making life better for people. When your social presence is weak and your social contribution is minimal to nothing, it leads you into feeling invisible and insignificant and, eventually, worthless - this is the end result of not developing Fe well.

If something doesn’t bother you, it may bother someone else, such as the rotting fruit that may even become a health hazard. Do you care about anyone else’s experience but your own? Be honest. If not, then perhaps you suffer a dual problem: 

Ni fail: You don’t care enough about yourself and the kind of person you aspire to be. INFJs express themselves through their ideals. If you have no ideals and don’t aspire to anything, then what reason do you have to change your passive behavior? 

Fe fail: You don’t care enough about the impact that your existence has in the world. If you are oblivious to the world around you, then how will you ever spot opportunities to show initiative and make things better?

You seem to have achieved a bit of progress since becoming aware of the problem. Just remember that changing your state of mind is a gradual process of increasing your awareness of the problem and acting to resolve it, so keep plugging away at it. It always helps to set some concrete goals and objectives, so that progress is quantifiable or measurable. Be creative in setting up challenges for yourself that allow you to observe your progress in action.

[miss-melon]

Hello, I would like to request a headcanon for Taka, Nagito, Makoto, and Hiro comforting their stressed/overworked fem S/O.

Oooo I love this request! I’d love to write it for you! (Also uhhh I kinda got carried away and these ended up as more short stories than headcanons but I hope you’re still okay with that.)

REQUEST: Headcanons of Taka, Hiro, Makoto, and Nagito with a stressed fem! S/O

KIYOTAKA ISHIMARU

•Taka knew something was up when he saw you with your head buried in your hands while sitting at your desk.

•“What’s the matter Y/N? Is something troubling you?”

•You were a little nervous to tell Taka what was wrong. You had been behind on your schoolwork lately and Taka had been very strict with you, he wanted you to get caught up on your work as fast as you could.

•But when you saw that Taka was still standing there waiting for an answer you began to speak.

•“I-I’m sorry Taka, all this work was just too much for me today. P-please don’t be mad at me...”

•Seeing you so nervous that he would be angry with you broke Taka’s heart. An instant wave of guilt hit him like a semi-truck.

•“H-hey Y/N... You know I could never get mad at you right? I’m so sorry for pushing you so hard. Please forgive me... I-I love you so much.”

•You were very shocked to hear him say that. He wasn’t one to show you affection all that often, you knew that he loved you but you weren’t used to hearing him say it all that often. You were lost in your thoughts when suddenly Taka began to hug you.

•“Why don’t you stop working on schoolwork for the next couple days? When you feel like you can work again i’d be more than willing to assist!” Taka said smiling.

•You two spent the next couple days relaxing. Taka spoiled you with all your favorite snacks and made sure your every need and want was met. After that day, he began paying a lot more attention to your mental health.

YASUHIRO HAGAKURE

•Hiro was lowkey scared of you when you were stressed, he wanted to ask you what was stressing you out but he also didn’t want to contribute to the stress on your plate either.

•However, when you came home from work one day and just fell into Hiro’s lap on the couch, he couldn’t just ignore it anymore.

•“Uhhhh... you doing okay?”

•You just let out a long groan that made Hiro jump slightly, he didn’t really know what to do in order to help you, but he supposed he would at least give it a shot.

•He carefully lifted you up and sat you back down on his lap in a position where you were facing him, he then pulled out his crystal ball.

•“Now... if we take a look at my crystal ball here, it says that everything that’s causing you to be this upset will soon go away!”

•“You can really tell all that with just your ball?” You asked him.

•“W-well there’s at least a 30% chance that this is true! Have some faith in me!”

•You just chuckled and kissed Hiro on the lips which caused him to blush.

•After that, Hiro bought the two of you take-out and you two just spent the rest of the day at home.

MAKOTO NAEGI

•Makoto had noticed your mood shift over the last few days but he didn’t want to bring it up because he didn’t want to make your mood worse.

•After a while though, he got really concerned and decided to bring it up.

•“Um... Y/N? Are you okay? You seem different, like something is bothering you.”

•You let out a sigh and decided to tell him what was wrong.

•“I’ve had a lot on my plate these last few days. I’m just really overwhelmed. I’m sorry if my mood has affected you at all Makoto...”

•“No no no you don’t need to apologize Y/N. Come here.” He opened his arms and you just collapsed into them.

•The two of you hugged for a long time and as you two held each other, he began to talk to you some more.

•“If there’s anything I can help you with at all to make some of your stress go away, please let me know. I want you to be happy again.”

•You nodded quietly and you two went to the couch where the two of you cuddled for a while, and Makoto spent the next couple weeks helping you with everything he could.

NAGITO KOMAEDA

•When Nagito saw how negatively your mood had shifted over time, his heart broke.

•He hated seeing you like this more than anything because he considered you the most precious thing in the world.

•One day he was sitting on your guys’ bed and you walked in.

•You were very clearly upset about something and Nagito decided that despite feeling incapable of helping you, he would speak up. He just wanted to see the light of hope return to your eyes once more.

•“What’s wrong Y/N? You can tell me about anything on your mind. Someone as worthless me has no right to overlook any of your troubles.”

•You just got on the bed and crawled into Nagito’s lap and wrapped your arms around him. Nagito was very surprised at this sudden contact.

•“H-hey Y/N, are you sure you want to touch som-”

•“Just shut up and give me cuddles...” You pouted.

•Nagito chuckled and did as he was told, he was willing to do anything to make you feel better. There was nothing you could ever do that would make him see you as a burden.

THE END.

_______________________________________________

I hope you guys enjoyed! These were really fun to make! I’ve been really stressed these last couple weeks so this request was something that I knew I could write!

[spencers-renaissance]

tell me how to balance my coins

Summary: When Spencer falls down the stairs one morning he decides not to tell anyone, his insecurities about not being enough winning out. Too bad insecurities don't matter when they end up trekking through miles of barren land on a search and rescue mission, and his injuries finally become too much. The team knows exactly how to make it better.

Tags: hurt!spencer, whump, hurt/comfort, hiding medical issues, insecurity, angst with a happy ending, fluff, team as family TW: self-esteem issues

Pairing: GEN / Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Set in S1 but there's no Gideon because he didn't really fit the plot, so it's just the five other field agents here. This entire fic was inspired by this post by @i-write-whump so credit goes to them for the premise! Title from this poem by Zahraa Surtee <3

Maybe it’s embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. Spencer runs headfirst into dangerous situations every day, puts his life on the line repeatedly and escapes unscathed more often than not, but his nemesis this time is the single flight of stairs in his apartment building he descends each morning.

He’s later than he usually is, and already feeling a little flustered from both his toaster and coffee machine breaking, leaving him with a cup of instant coffee and an overripe banana from breakfast, which only makes the situation worse. As if lying sprawled out in a public stairwell wasn’t bad enough. He gingerly pulls himself up, catching a glimpse of a “Caution: Wet Floor” sign he somehow missed, and winces as pain floods his body.

His ankle is screaming at him, throbbing and burning, and for a moment Spencer has to close his eyes against the gut-wrenching pain of a twisted ankle flaring up his calf. A couple of thankfully undisturbed minutes later, the pain eases enough for him to open his eyes and inspect the damage. It’s already swelling slightly, and he’s certain he’ll be covered in bruises by tonight if the aching of his entire body is anything to go by.

For a brief moment he considers calling Derek or Penelope or someone else on his team; maybe even calling in sick, but he quickly pushes that thought away. It’s not embarrassment that stops him from telling the team. It’s a good cover story to keep him from addressing the real reason, but it isn’t the truth.

The truth is that the only time he ever feels valuable is when he’s contributing to a case. That cruel voice in the back of his head will waste no time in piping up, telling him how worthless he is, what a burden his friends see him as, how insignificant he is to the team if he doesn’t suck it up and head into work.

Fighting back the tears burning hot behind his eyes with ardent determination, he drags himself up by the stair handrail until he’s upright. His ribs ache and his ankle burns something fierce, but he compartmentalises it, breathing deeply and taking a few tentative steps, one at a time until he’s limping towards the train station.

The moment he walks into the bullpen, JJ grabs his elbow. “You’re just in time, Spence,” she says, marching towards the briefing room with a pace Spencer can’t quite keep up with. “We have a new case. Rural Kentucky.”

Everyone’s already seated at the round table, and no matter how much he tries to disguise his limp, putting far too much weight on his battered ankle, he can’t get it past a room full of profilers.

“Hey, pretty boy, you alright? You’re limping.” Derek’s tone is light, carrying the cadence of joking banter, but he can see the concern in his eyes, and that’s just unacceptable. He can’t have people worrying about him: he’s not worth their pitied looks or vapid attempts at comfort, especially not when they have a far more important case to be focusing on.

He slips into a seat, and manages to conceal a wince at the movement of his ankle swinging forward. “Oh, uh, I just stubbed my toe pretty hard on the way in.” It’s not convincing even to his own ears, but luckily it’s enough of a time-sensitive case for JJ to barrel on regardless, drawing everyone’s worried glances away from him and towards the board full of grizzly crime scene photos.

Even though he’s been on the team for close to three years now, he still feels like the new kid. Elle is newer than him, but she’s still far more confident in her place on the team than he is. He suspects that’s probably because someone like Elle doesn’t have trouble fitting in anywhere. It’s never been quite that easy for Spencer.

Pushing his insecurities aside like he always has to do in these meetings, he reads the case file thoroughly before offering his own contributions. The unsub is snatching young women from bars and clubs and holding them for weeks before leaving them to succumb to the elements in the rural countryside of Kentucky. With a missing woman and the expected deadline for the unsub dumping her fast approaching, they don’t waste any time in boarding the jet and flying the short way to West Kentucky.

It’s a short enough flight that there’s no time for personal conversation — no time for Derek (or anyone else for that matter) to confront him about his blatant lie and obvious injury — since they spend the whole journey discussing the case. Thankfully, throwing himself head first into theories and hypotheses keeps his mind off the pain a bit, but he can’t fully keep it from bothering him.

He’s just thankful that he has enough experience in disguising his true emotions that no-one’s attention is drawn to him by poorly hidden winces.

They dive straight into the investigation when they arrive at the sheriff’s station, everyone laser focused on finding Marissa Williams. By mid-afternoon, though, Spencer’s gritting his teeth as he forces himself to persevere through the pain despite it increasing incrementally every hour, and he curses himself for not being able to dedicate 100% of himself to the case. If he can’t help everyone find this woman, then what is he good for? His stomach twists at the thought.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on, Spence?” Derek asks him as it approaches 4pm, cornering him at the coffee machine.

Spencer looks around as subtly as he can for an escape, but he quickly succumbs to his fate. “I’m fine, Derek,” he promises. It’s so far from the truth he wants to cry.

The concern in Derek’s eyes only intensifies at that. “Seriously? You’ve been quiet this whole case, I catch you wincing when you think no-one’s looking, and you’re still limping. A stubbed toe wouldn’t do that, kid, and you know it.”

He sighs, knowing the jig is up. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Derek.” He’s not sure it’s the truth, but it’s close enough to it that it doesn’t bring burning tears to the backs of his eyes.

Derek’s about to say something when JJ calls out for him. They both turn to look at her, Spencer feeling relief flood his chest, while Derek’s expression quickly morphs into one of frustration, sighing heavily as he curls his hands into tight fists.

“This isn’t over,” he says, levelling him with a serious look before walking back over to JJ, leaving Spencer to stir his bitter coffee in peace. It definitely doesn’t make him want to cry.

They finally get a break in the case at nightfall, a call on the tip line combined with their profile leading them to a secluded wooded area down by a small river. Knowing there’s nothing more for them to do at the office, Hotch gathers them all up, insisting they join the search party to find the poor, beaten woman currently suffering exposure, awaiting their rescue.

Spencer’s heart sinks as everyone gathers their equipment, and he’s almost relieved when Derek speaks up.

“Reid can’t go,” he insists to Hotch, only barely in earshot of Spencer. If he doesn’t go out in the rescue party, then he’s still served his purpose hasn’t he? He helped with the profile that narrowed down the area she’s likely to be in, he worked the case until this point, he can rest and still be worth something. Right?

Besides, it’s not exactly like he can don the heavy walking boots everyone else is pulling on. If he goes out, he’ll have to wear the same loafers that have been squeezing his swelling joint all day, and that’s hardly going to work. Hotch will let him stay back, and for once, he’ll accept the rest he’s offered.

His hope is quickly dashed. “We need all the manpower we can get,” Hotch says, clearly distracted in the same way he has been throughout the entire case. Spencer likes his boss but he has a tendency to wear blinkers when on a job, not noticing anything that doesn’t pertain to the ultimate solution. “He’ll be fine.”

Derek sighs again, clearly frustrated.

“I’ll be fine,” he says as Derek comes over to sit with him, not sure who he’s trying to convince. His ankle is still burning in pain. The last time he checked it, it was bruised and swollen, tender to the touch. It’s nothing short of a nasty sprain.

“You stick close to me, Spencer. I mean it.”

He can’t help the small smile that crosses his face, genuine happiness warming his heart at the concerned protectiveness of his friend. “Sure, Derek,” he says softly.

The pleasant temperature of the mid-Spring day drops to almost freezing as the sun sets, the moon and stars taking over the clear night sky. Even Spencer’s thickest coat isn’t enough to keep him from practically vibrating with the force of his shivers as they trek across the miles of terrain, staying as quiet as possible to listen for anything that could indicate their victim’s whereabouts. They’re spread out a little, but for the most part they all walk reasonably close together, the beams of their torches criss-crossing as they fight their way through the windy countryside.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple of hours into the search and rescue mission that a call crackles over the radio, telling them that Marissa had been found, beaten and weak but alive. Spencer can’t even bring himself to feel any kind of victory or relief, nothing being able to penetrate the haze of pain he’s in. Everyone else chatters happily enough as they converge back together for his silence to go mostly unnoticed.

His obscurity doesn’t last long, though.

“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened to your foot, Spence?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow at Spencer’s heavy limping and Derek’s worried hovering. By the second mile of their walk, Spencer had given up trying to hide the limp, instead focusing on gritting his teeth and breathing through the pain as it flares up his leg.

She’s clearly voicing what everyone else is thinking, judging by their worried expressions. Part of him wants to give in and tell the team, but the part that wants to continue to hide his embarrassment away, the part riddled with fear and insecurity wins out. He stubbornly shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. In the kind of terrible timing so emblematic of the life of Spencer Reid, in the short second he has his eyes closed he manages to stumble into a small divot in the ground, and he trips, twisting his ankle all over again as he falls down.

His vision whites out, the pain suddenly all-consuming, punching nausea through his stomach and he can’t help the cry he lets escape as he lays helplessly in the grass.

“Spencer!”

Derek crouches next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he checks him over frantically, and Spencer can’t help but lean up into it, craving the kind of comfort he can only get from his best friend. Hotch joins them quickly as JJ and Elle stand close enough to offer support without crowding him.

“That’s it, Spencer,” Hotch says firmly, blinkers well and truly off by now, “you need to tell us what’s going on.”

As the blinding pain slowly fades into something minutely more bearable, Spencer forces his eyes open to face the team. “I fell down the stairs this morning,” he finally admits, sullen and teary. “Pretty sure I sprained my ankle.”

Hotch wastes no time in gently rolling his trouser leg up, exposing his ruined loafers and the bruised, swollen joint to the torches of his teammates. Derek audibly winces as he positions himself behind Spencer, supporting his back as his tired, aching body starts to collapse.

Hotch levels him with a stern glare after he finishes his tender inspection of his ankle. “Spencer, it was incredibly irresponsible to hide something like this. You not only put yourself in danger, but you put the rest of the team at risk, too—”

He doesn’t get any further in his lecture before the tears he’s been holding back all day, finally spill over and a dry, sudden sob, his bruised and aching rib cage heaving as he starts to unravel at the seams. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Softening immediately, Hotch puts his leg down gently and shuffles closer, taking Spencer’s hand in his. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry for yelling,” he says soothingly, watching as Spencer presses closer into Derek’s hold. “You’re not in trouble, I’m just worried about you, Spencer. Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?”

He squeezes his eyes closed again: it’s as much dignity as he can hope for when his face is crumpling and he’s sobbing on the cold, hard ground as it nears midnight. “I just… I just wanted to be worth something.” It’s an admission he’ll regret later, he already knows that, but he’s so so tired and all he wants is the comfort that only his team can provide.

Derek pulls him into an even tighter hug before anyone can react, holding him against his chest fiercely while his hand plays gently with his hair. “Spencer, you are worth something whether you’re injured or fully intact, you hear me? We’d love you with a broken leg, with a bad case of the flu, if you quit the team tomorrow and decided to never work again. But most importantly, we love you now, kid. No matter what. Nothing can change that, alright?”

“He’s right, Spence,” JJ says softly, sinking to the ground along with Elle. “I know you think we only tolerate you because of your brain and what you bring to the table on a case, but you’re so much more than that. We love your nerdy rambles and your awkward waves and the way you love so openly and protectively, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt before. We love everything about you, Spencer.”

“Yeah, if you’re hurt, Reid, we wanna know,” Elle chimes in, sounding a little hesitant as the one who’s known him the shortest amount of time, but firm in what she’s saying nonetheless. “I know I haven’t been on the team that long but this is a group of people that watches out for one another, that supports each other, that builds everyone up leaving no person behind. That includes you, Spencer Reid, even when you don’t feel like it.”

“Everyone is right, Spencer,” Hotch says softly, still holding his cold and shaking hand protectively in his gloved one. “I’m just sad that you still prioritise your work over your own health. You are not this job. You are an incredibly talented and multi-faceted person that oftentimes needs a little TLC, and until you’re willing and able to do that for yourself, we’ll be here to do it for you, okay?”

Tears are streaming down his face as he nods, feeling warmer than he has all day despite the cold dark night they’ve found themselves in. The strangest part about it all is that he’s actually starting to believe them. It’s not like they haven’t all said similar things before, but hearing them all vehemently corroborating each other’s stories, hearing it all laid out in front of him as they promise him with earnest expressions that they’re telling the truth is doing something to shift the leaden weight of insecurity and low self-esteem that presses on his chest each and every day.

“Now, come on,” Derek says. “Let’s get back to base and I’ll go with you to the hospital to get you checked out, make sure it’s nothing more than a sprain.”

He shifts behind Spencer, using his already firm hold on his waist to help gently pull him up to a standing position, taking most of his weight as Spencer whimpers at the pain that swiftly reignites at the movement.

Derek turns around and bends at the knees slightly as Spencer leans on Hotch, before looking over his shoulder, his signature grin returning. “Hop on, pretty boy.”

“What— Derek! I’m way too heavy!”

Everyone immediately breaks out in amused laughter, even Hotch chuckling fondly.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Come on, Spencer, you’ve gotta weigh what, like, 140lbs? 150? You can’t exactly walk on that ankle anymore and it’s the only way we’re getting back without calling for a search and rescue team of our own.”

“Reid, I’m pretty sure I could give you a piggy-back ride,” Elle points out, raising her eyebrows. “Just let him carry you back.”

Let us take care of you is implicit enough in everyone’s words and expressions that it doesn’t really need to be said, but Spencer hears it anyway.

Hotch helps him up onto Derek’s back and they begin the long trek towards the search and rescue base, and Spencer’s never appreciated the easy banter they all share more. Hotch is visibly relaxed with the case solved and his youngest team member soon to be taken care of, so he joins in with the conversation, his light and happy expression that he only ever wears around his family or the team on rare days and nights off, replacing his focused frown.

Spencer clings on tightly to Derek and presses his face into the space between his neck and his shoulder, closing his eyes as he listens to the conversation, the vibration of Derek’s laugh and the shameless flirting between Elle and JJ taking his mind off the pain that throbs in his ankle with each step Derek takes.

When they finally get back to base, they all gather round the ambulance that’s been designated to take Spencer and Derek to the hospital.

JJ steps forward to give him a hug first. “Love you, Spence. Let us know what they say, okay?”

Hotch surprises him by stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug as well, forgoing the macho pats on the back for a short but close embrace that feels fatherly enough for tears to prick the back of Spencer’s eyes. “We all love you, Spencer. Remember that okay. And actually listen to what the doctors tell you. Morgan, you’re my eyes and ears.”

“Well now I want a hug, too,” Elle says dramatically, squeezing him in a tight embrace for just a moment before stepping back, lining up with JJ and Hotch to present a united front of people on his side.

“We’ll see you both in the morning,” Hotch says as the paramedic starts prepping for the journey, moving Spencer onto the gurney and rolling him in.

“Hope they don’t keep you too long!” JJ calls just as the doors close, making them both chuckle.

Derek takes his hand in both of his, staying out of the paramedic’s way as she quickly places a line of mild painkillers before sitting back, knowing that there’s not anything more she can do for Spencer until they get to the hospital.

Derek must see the anxious look on Spencer’s face, because he’s quick to reach a hand out and brush his cheek gently. “Hey, I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not gonna leave you on your own, okay? You’ll be alright, pretty boy, you’re gonna be just fine. I promise.”

And on the flight home the next morning he realises that Derek’s promise was kept. He’s fitted out with a crutch and a temporary wrapping around his ankle, resting comfortably with his head in Derek’s lap while his foot sits elevated on a pile of cushions carefully built by JJ, surrounded by people who swear up and down that they love him while proving it to him in a thousand little ways, and he’s really not sure it gets any more alright than that.

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