#i may be a crippled bitch

[cistematicchaos]

The Atlantic publishing a paper saying that the genocide in the Congo [which has killed and displaced MILLIONS of Black folks] is a win for climate change is so, so dehumanizing and anti-Black.

If the genocide of Black folks, of African folks anywhere around the globe is a "win" for climate change in your book, then your climate change is white supremacy and when you run out of Black and Brown folks to sacrifice for your comfort, there will be nothing left worth saving.

[notasapleasure]

"Babe! I just ripped a door off its hinges with my bare hands!!! It was AMAZING." - adventures in home ownership, take 2.

[megalony]

A Burden On You

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, based on an anon request. I hope you will all like it, any feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme

911 Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) has a chronic illness and begins to worry that she may be relying on Evan too much. When she has an accident at home, she's too nervous to tell him or ask for help.

Enjoy.

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"Happy birthday," A soft grin lit up (Y/n)'s face and she held out the navy blue and silver striped bag in her hand towards Eddie.

She could feel Evan's arms curve around her waist and a shiver flooded down her spine when he tilted his head to the side and kissed her temple. His fingertips ran up and down her hips and his chest pressed down into her back and shoulders, keeping her pinned against his front.

They both watched Eddie spin on his heels and a glimmer of shock fluttered in his eyes while he formed a bright smile. He happily took the present and leaned to the left to place it down on the table before he reached out for them both. He was careful. He always was when he was around (Y/n), just like the rest of the team. Eddie wanted to hug her but he never knew if he might hurt her or cause her some discomfort.

(Y/n) looped her arms around his shoulders, grinning wider when she became wedged in between them both like they were sardines squashed into a tin.

"You made it. How are you?"

"Good, we're good. I've missed you all, and Chris." (Y/n) patted his shoulder before she sank back into Evan's chest and reached down to hold his wrists that were around her waist.

She hadn't seen anyone from the station in weeks and it always made (Y/n) feel bad when she didn't get to see them or have a catch up.

"He's missed you too."

(Y/n) didn't always like socialising. It wasn't easy to be around people whenever she was in the middle of a flare up. She had fibromyalgia. Chronic pains that affected her in hundreds of different ways; little pains that Evan would barely bat an eyelid at, crippled (Y/n) down in agony. Illnesses flared up her pains and made her feel faint. Cold weather sank into her bones and made her stiff muscles even worse. Headaches felt like hammers tapping away at her head until she was sure her skull was caved in.

When her condition flared, it worsened (Y/n)'s sleep and she had a lot of trouble sleeping. She couldn't usually stay asleep for too long which led her to be tired during the days and if she slept for too long, her muscles seized up and it made walking or bending or any general movement almost impossible.

She had been all ready and lined up to attend the station Christmas party until she has a fall. She had been dosed up on painkillers and on the day of the party, (Y/n) could barely walk. Her leg had shooting pains radiating from her hip to her foot and her leg had seized up for days.

"Where is he?" Evan glanced his eyes around the station while he rested his chin on top of (Y/n)'s head and began swaying them from side to side.

He wanted to see Chris but he couldn't spot him anywhere in the station so far.

They had all decided that since Hen and Bobby were on shift today, they would throw Eddie a big party here at the station. Then at least everyone could be here to celebrate and it was a relaxed atmosphere and there was much more space to party.

"Helping Bobby put the candles on the cake. Which reminds me, I've got a bone to pick with you." Eddie pointed his finger at Evan who was trying his best not to grin.

He squeezed (Y/n)'s hip lightly when she leaned her cheek against his neck. He didn't have to look down to know she was grinning because she knew exactly what Evan had done to wind Eddie up. He couldn't simply turn up to the party and give Eddie a present, Evan had to play some sort of trick on him or mess him about in some way. He had had a quiet word with Chris yesterday ready to wind Eddie up.

"Oh?"

"Thanks for telling him I've just turned forty- which I haven't and you know it. He's been running round telling everyone he can't fit enough candles on my cake."

Eddie hadn't been best pleased this morning when Chris woke him up to wish him a happy birthday and suddenly exclaimed that he was forty. It didn't take long for Eddie to work out where Chris had learned that from. But once they arrived here, Chris gave a handful of candles to Bobby and began telling people he didn't have enough candles for how old his dad was. Eddie wasn't near forty yet, he had a decade to go before he would be forty.

"You're welcome old man."

"Buck we're the same age." The smile slipped from Eddie's face as he planted his hands down on his hips and shook his head.

"I'll go grab us some drinks," Evan kept his voice quiet and hovered his lips over the shell of (Y/n)'s ear. He grinned, brushing his nose against her skin as his grin morphed into a smirk when he knew he had riled Eddie up. He let his lips wander down to (Y/n)'s cheek where he pressed another kiss before he unravelled himself from around her and moved towards the stairs.

"He's just trying to wind you up, don't listen to him." (Y/n) patted Eddie's shoulder before she left him to look through his presents that were steadily piling up on the table.

(Y/n) fluttered around the station floor for a little while and had a quick chat with Hen before she moved towards the stairs. She knew Chris would be up there somewhere and she wanted to see and talk to him. It had been two weeks since Chris had been round to stay with her and Evan and (Y/n) was starting to miss him. He was like their nephew, they were his main babysitters and he regarded them as his aunt and uncle.

It took a while to get herself up the stairs. It didn't matter that her pain was on a very good level today, she still felt stiff today and her legs were barely under her control.

Exercise was one of the main things that helped her condition.

And with Evan being hooked on his training and exercise to help with his job, it was something they did together. Evan would go on runs and do hard training in the morning, but when he wasn't at work, he would train in the afternoon with (Y/n) for a while. They went on a lot of walks as well.

(Y/n) needed to keep moving, if she sat or laid down for too long, her muscles would start to seize up and her pain scale would increase. She was usually on the go from the moment she got up until the moment she went to bed. It didn't matter how slow (Y/n) moved or how little she managed to get done in a day, she was always up and about.

Her eyes found Evan before they scouted round and found Chris. While Chris was trying to fit as many candles on the chocolate cake Bobby made as possible, Evan was stood over near the pool table close by the fire pole.

He had two drinks in hand and his hips were slouched back against the pool table that wasn't being used.

A smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips as she advanced towards him, she could draw Evan into a game of pool while Chris was busy in the kitchen. He loved a game and whenever he lost, especially to (Y/n), he would get fired up and they would keep going until he won at least one round. And (Y/n) was feeling good tonight, she was having a good day and felt able to try and beat Evan in a game or two.

She advanced towards him and tried to see who he was with. (Y/n) didn't recognise her. She was probably one of the new recruits, Evan said they'd had quite a few new recruits in and out of the station in the last week or so.

Evan tried to force himself to smile as he leaned his hips a little further back into the pool table until he was almost sitting on it.

This was the part of parties he didn't like; getting dragged into conversations with people he'd rather not talk to. And Evan was programmed to be kind and polite, it was in his nature so he didn't find it easy to walk away or find excuses to leave.

He didn't want to be talking to Lucy.

She wasn't someone Evan was very fond of, she was very full of herself and she didn't fit well with the team. She seemed to want to do things her own way and work on her own rather than work with them all as a team. And the last time they had all been out to a club after work, Lucy had tried to kiss him.

That night had been forgotten. Evan had politely declined and hurried away as fast as he could, and from then onwards, Evan did his best to avoid Lucy. They both tried to be polite and pretend it didn't happen but he didn't want to be around her when she always tried to get a bit too close to him and she didn't understand he didn't want to be around her like this.

"So, you've brought you're girlfriend this time?" Lucy took a long sip of her beer and leaned her right arm out on the balcony rail. The way she tilted her head to the side and smiled made Evan shiver uneasily.

"(Y/n) always comes with me to the station parties." Evan's lips quirked into a dazed, slightly confused smile.

Why was she so surprised? This was a party and families and partners were always invited to tag along. And this party was for Eddie. He was Evan's best friend and therefore he was close to (Y/n). Of course she would be here to see Eddie and celebrate with everyone.

"You didn't bring her to the Christmas party, did you?"

"No, she wasn't very well."

Evan bit the corner of his lip and looked down at his feet. Why was she doing this? Where was she going with this conversation?

Christmas had been difficult for everyone. They had numerous emergencies, all of them had been called in for extra shifts at one point or another. Chris hadn't been very well, he had a bad chest infection which meant Eddie was stressed. And then (Y/n)'s condition had flared up and she could barely walk so Evan had been anxious and desperate to stay home with her to look after her.

He turned up for an hour at the Christmas party, then he went home to stay with (Y/n). It felt better to be at home than trying to party and have a good time when he wasn't feeling the festive mood.

"Oh, Hen mentioned she has fibromyalgia. Isn't that a bit, annoying, for you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Something dangerous burned in Evan's eyes and his smile turned into a broken grimace as he looked down at her. Whatever she was thinking, she best not say it to Evan because he wasn't going to hold his tongue or mince his words here if she went down this road. He wasn't in the mood for someone to start disrespecting his partner.

And the way Lucy leaned back and shrugged her shoulders gave off such a casual vibe that made Evan feel worse. She was openly being rude and stood so normal as if she wasn't doing anything wrong.

"I just mean that you're always looking after her, you're not meant to be her carer Buck, you have a life. It makes her quite a burden on you."

A tremor rattled through (Y/n) and she turned around quickly before Evan realised she had been close enough to hear. Tears burned in her eyes but she pushed them away and coiled her arms around her waist. She needed to move; quickly. Before Evan turned or looked over his shoulder and noticed she was here. (Y/n) couldn't deal with the conversation that would follow if he knew she had just heard that.

Her eyes locked on Chris who had finished adding all the candles he had onto the chocolate cake. She made a beeline towards the kitchen and stood next to him and Bobby, leaning down to kiss his temple when he looked up at her with a grin that made her heart swell.

A single tear traced down her cheek but (Y/n) quickly swiped it away and tried to take a steady breath to control herself.

"Dad's cake."

"He's gonna love it… although I don't know how long it will take him to blow out all those candles." Her voice came out oddly steady considering how uneasy and wobbly she felt.

Was she truly a burden on Evan? (Y/n) did her best not to call him if he was at work and she wasn't well or had a problem. She always told him to go out with the guys from work or his friends even if she didn't feel well enough to join. (Y/n) pushed Evan to do things and live his life and not stop or hang around for her.

At least, that's what she thought she did.

Did she hold Evan back? Did she burden him and make him care for her too much? Was he becoming her carer instead of her partner?

Evan was a busy man, he had a very demanding job and (Y/n) would hate to be a demanding girlfriend who stole his attention and all of his free time. Maybe she needed to try and make sure she didn't rely on him as much. Maybe, if she had another flare up, it would be best to keep it from Evan and try to look after herself. He couldn't always be there to help her and do things for her or look after her; (Y/n) needed to look after herself and put less strain on Evan.

"Listen to me," Evan pushed himself up off the pool table and took a step closer until he was towering over Lucy with a menacing look and a fire burning deep within his eyes. "I don't know who gave you the right to judge, but you need to stop. Now. I'm her partner, so whether or not I look after her- which is something I have every right to do- that's none of your business."

How could she stand there and talk to him like that when she didn't know anything about him and (Y/n)?

If Evan wanted to look after (Y/n) and help her when she was ill, he had every reason and right to do that. (Y/n) never asked, Evan didn't even offer, he just looked after her because he loved her and he wanted to. Evan had a deep rooted sense of wanting to be needed and if he felt needed, he would do everything he could to look out for his family and do anything for them.

He loved (Y/n), he loved looking after her and making sure she was alright and Evan would never want (Y/n) to think she had to cope alone when he was right here.

"Don't talk about my girlfriend like that again."

Evan glared down at Lucy until she held her hands up in surrender and looked down at his chest to avoid his furious gaze.

He turned around and left her standing there before he ripped into her even further and caused a scene. The fire burning in his chest simmered down when he looked across at the kitchen and caught sight of (Y/n). She was stood with one arm around Chris in front of a cake with the most amount of candles on that Evan had ever seen.

Evan leaned over and placed the two cups down on the counter beside the cake before he wrapped an arm around (Y/n)'s waist. His arm curved around her middle so his hand could curl over her hip and he tucked his face into her neck.

He felt the way she shivered when he kissed her neck but when he looked down, his brows furrowed. She was tapping her fingers against the counter and he could see her biting down on her lower lip so much she was almost drawing blood. She was anxious about something.

His head tilted up and he pecked her jaw, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

"Everything okay?"

"Hmm. I'm gonna record you all, Chris wants you to help him give Eddie the cake."

He muttered a quiet 'sounds good' against her jaw and began smoothing his thumb over her hip. He wasn't entirely satisfied that she was alright, it was almost as if Evan could feel the unease radiating off of her and through to him and Evan hated not knowing if something was wrong or upsetting her.

But if she told him everything was alright, Evan wouldn't push the matter. He would take her word for it.

***

Tears streaked down (Y/n)'s face as she raked her hands up and down her thighs and down over her knees. Her eyes were starting to become puffy and sore and it only made her feel worse when she couldn't seem to stop herself from sniffing and letting herself wallow and weep.

Today wasn't a good day.

She had been tired enough to oversleep this morning and while the extra sleep had done her some good, it didn't help her legs. She had woken with knees so stiff they started to throb when she tried to walk about. Pins and needles had raked up and down her left leg from her hip to her knee and had lasted until mid-afternoon.

Everything hurt. (Y/n) didn't know why today she was having a flare up, but everything ached and burned and felt like she was being cut to pieces. Banging her shin on the corner of the couch had left her a crying mess even though it was a light bash. Small pains felt like the end of the world when her fibromyalgia was playing up.

Every hour, (Y/n) had forced herself to get up and move about, just to walk around the apartment and get some movement back. She didn't go on her usual walk outside because she didn't feel up to doing it alone.

Evan was at work until lunchtime tomorrow and when he was at work, (Y/n) usually skipped her daily walk because she hated to go out alone. She knew she wasn't burdening Evan by their daily walk because he loved his exercise so it benefited both of them.

Reaching up, (Y/n) dragged her hands down her face and wiped away the tears as she tried to take a deep breath. She had been laid in bed for just over an hour and she needed to move about. She would be going to sleep soon and sleeping made her stiffness worse so she had to do another lap around the apartment before she settled for the night. (Y/n) already knew she wouldn't be sleeping well tonight, both because she was in too much pain and because Evan wouldn't be here with her.

A silent string of curse words muttered beneath her breath when she started to walk away from the bed.

Her legs were barely moving.

Her left leg had gone back to being numb and useless and her right thigh was shaking when she tried to walk. She was going to have to keep moving for a while now to reduce the pain as much as she could before she went to sleep.

(Y/n)'s left hand grabbed the handrail and her right hand glided down the wall to help ease herself down the stairs.

Sometimes she felt like a little old woman when her legs barely moved and her fingers didn't want to curl or bend or move the right way. She felt like she needed to go up and down the stairs on her bum or her hands and knees. It was utterly humiliating if she was ever at someone else's house during a flare up. Walking and hobbling around like this was bad enough when she had to do this in front of Evan.

It had taken (Y/n) a while to let Evan see her like this, she didn't want him to pity her or look at her any differently.

And he didn't. If she wasn't feeling well, he would walk behind her and hold her hands or her hips and help her up and down the stairs. He would carry her if she asked or if she just gave him that certain look. He loved carrying her around, it was his favourite thing to do.

"No-"

A gasp burned in the back of (Y/n)'s throat when her foot slipped. She barely felt her heel scrape against the lower step but she couldn't hold onto the bannister and hold her weight up to stop her from falling. The pain of her back hitting the stairs blinded her and stopped her breathing but when she slid down to the left and smashed the left side of her chest against three steps, a scream tumbled past her lips.

Her body turned into a trembling, shaking mess on the floor when she finally stopped falling and landed with a horrid slap at the bottom of the stairs.

Her arms shakily coiled into her chest but her breaths burned into another scream and she stretched her arms back out.

Her chest was on fire. It felt like she was laid on hot coals. The pain was horrendous, like a knife stabbing into her ribs. Tingling sensations shot down the base of her spine. She could barely feel her legs except for the spiking pins and needles tearing through her muscles that went right down to her heels which were thudding and felt like pins were prodding at her heels.

Tears began to pour down her face and her wet lips wobbled and bubbled as she tried to breathe but ended up gasping and crying out loudly.

Her fingers were curled into her palms and (Y/n) didn't have enough control or will power to straighten them out. She shuffled her trembling hand around to the right side of her chest beneath her bra strap.

She had broken her ribs.

(Y/n) knew they were broken without having to touch them. She had broken a few bones in her life and she knew her pain levels. Her pain was more concentrated and a lot worse than what other people experienced. Small things were amplified and things like broken bones or torn muscles felt like she had been shredded to pieces.

Inching forwards, (Y/n) tried to slide until her back was no longer wedged against the bottom step.

Moving wasn't going to be easy. She doubted it was even going to be an option right now.

(Y/n) didn't have the energy to drag herself back up the stairs that had now become her enemy.

She wasn't going to crawl into the bathroom around the corner because she couldn't be bothered to dwell in there and cry. There was no energy to try and bandage herself up and patch herself back together.

The sofa was too far away to crawl to and her phone was upstairs on the bed so she couldn't call for help.

No!

No. (Y/n) was not going to call anyone for help. She didn't want paramedics coming round to take her to hospital. She wasn't waiting all through the night in A&E only to have an X-ray and be told she could be bandaged up and sent home with stupid painkillers that never worked to take the edge off. And (Y/n) wasn't calling Maddie and having her friend and sister see her like this. It wouldn't be fair to ruin her night like that.

She couldn't call Evan.

No way could (Y/n) call Evan when he was at work. She wasn't going to panic him and drag him home and make him care for her. He would have to help her back up the stairs and patch her up and console her and (Y/n) was not going to be the burden everyone seemed to think she was. She had to look after herself, Evan wasn't here and he couldn't always come home to look after her.

It didn't matter how much she wanted Evan to come home and hug her right now, she was on her own and that was how things had to stay.

A groan tumbled past her lips when she flopped onto her right ride and heaved herself to lay facing the stairs. Her arms stretched out in front of her so they weren't cocooned to her chest and causing her anymore unnecessary pain. She did what she could to straighten her legs out and stop them from throbbing and aching as much.

Her chin tucked down into her chest and she closed her eyes, despite the tears pouring down her face that would surely flood the apartment soon.

No, (Y/n) would stay here until she felt recovered enough to get herself back upstairs into bed.

***

It took (Y/n) well over fifteen minutes to heave herself up the stairs. It seemed pointless and futile to try getting up during the night when she was throbbing and aching and still drenched in tears. (Y/n) spent the night on the floor. She knew either way she wouldn't be sleeping and she had no effort to climb up the stairs just to lay and cry in bed.

Staying on the floor was easier and let her recover her energy. It was well into the morning by the time she managed to find the will power to start her ascent up the stairs. Her knees bashed and twanged against the steps and it made her whole body shudder each time. Her fingers dug into the steps and she leaned her weight onto the wall as she sat and shuffled up.

When she was up the stairs, She crawled over to the bed and spent another five minutes trying to heave herself up.

It was surprising how quickly sleep overtook (Y/n) once she flopped onto her stomach on the bed. Her body was exhausted. Her chest was in immense agony. Her brain was on last reserves. She had spent the night laid on the floor, unable to sleep and unable to move.

She didn't know what time she managed to get into bed, just that it was late into the morning. And she didn't know how long she slept for, just that it had to of been for a while because she managed to hear the front door opening.

If (Y/n) was more herself and less drained, she would of tried to get up and meet Evan at the door or at the very least, meet him at the top of the stairs. She wanted to get up and move about and stop him from realising something had happened for her to now be in bed at lunchtime. But she was aching and broken and felt too defeated to care.

Her arms curled around Evan's shirt that had been left on the bed and she burrowed her face into his pillow, breathing in his scent to try and stay calm and drowsy. She shuffled down a little until the cover was over her shoulder and mostly hiding her whole body and head from view.

Why couldn't she just disappear?

Why was Evan with her? Why did he love her when she truly was a burden? She was to much effort. Too much hassle. Demanding. In pain. Needy. Everything was wrong with her-

"Babe… baby, where are you?" Evan's sing-song voice rang out through the apartment as he dumped his bag down by the front door and moved towards the living room.

His lips pulled into a frown when he realised the tv wasn't on and (Y/n) wasn't downstairs. He knew her shoes and keys were still by the door along with her bag so she hadn't gone out anywhere. He knew the bathroom and kitchen were empty so he headed up the stairs.

He could feel his heart racing in his chest when he looked around the bedroom. The curtains were still closed; (Y/n) always opened them as soon as she woke up. She loved to look out at the view in the morning, especially on a sunny day like this. The tv was on but it was showing the news. (Y/n) didn't watch the news; she hated it. There was a glass on the floor and juice soaked into the carpet. Clothes and pillows were thrown onto the floor.

What had she been doing?

"Sweetheart, what are you doing? What's up?" Shockwaves rattled through Evan as he moved to kneel down in front of the bed.

He laid his arms out on the bed and carefully peeled back the cover while his chin propped up on his exposed arm. He brushed his finger across (Y/n)'s cheek and swiped his thumb across her lower lip, pulling it gently until she finally opened her eyes to blearily look over at him.

Evan knew her like the back of his hand. Her sleep pattern was always troubled because like Evan struggled to switch off or stay asleep due to his hyperactiveness and his job, (Y/n) struggled due to her fibromyalgia. They had routines to stop her from being in so much pain. She never slept in, especially not this late. She was always up and moving about to keep her muscles loose and working and from seizing up.

"Tired," (Y/n) tilted her head and kissed the palm of Evan's hand which she knew tickled him because his finger twitched against her cheek.

"Couldn't you sleep?" When she shook her head, Evan moved his hand and slowly carded his fingers through her hair. "Well, do you want to get up with me? Maybe a walk will make you feel better?"

They usually had a walk after dinner. Evan knew if (Y/n) stayed in bed for much longer she would feel worse when she eventually tried to get up and he hated to see her in pain. They could have lunch and go for a walk and try to stay busy for the afternoon so she could feel better and sleep well tonight. Evan would be here tonight anyway and she slept better when he was with her, he always knew that.

"Hm."

"Well I'll go grab a shower then we can head out, sound good?" He leaned across to kiss her before he got up and started to rummage around for some fresh clothes.

(Y/n) didn't dare look at her chest when she tried to get changed. Her fingers felt a little less tense than earlier so it was easier to change her shirt but lifting her arms high had her wincing and gasping in pain. She dragged her fingers through her hair and put it up into a loose ponytail but when she dragged her numb feet towards the stairs, shudders ran through her.

What if she fell again? What if she couldn't walk down properly?

(Y/n) didn't want to go downstairs. She didn't want to take the risk and hurt herself again. She didn't want Evan to see her be so stupid and silly and fall like she did last night.

Shivers rolled through her aching muscles and her chest twinged in agony when she looked at the stairs again. Tears welled in her eyes and she suddenly moved to sit down at the top of the stairs. Shuffling down would have to do for now.

She shuffled down one step before she cried out and leaned nearer to the wall. The thumping vibration made her chest jolt and stole the air from her lungs. Her forehead slumped onto the wall and her nails dug into her knees until she was sure she was drawing blood beneath her leggings.

"Baby, you alright up there?" Evan leaned against the bottom of the bannister but his smile faded again when he realised (Y/n) was in tears.

He joggd up the stairs until he was close enough to kneel down in front of her with her knees pressed up into his chest. He smoothed his hands up and down her thighs and kissed her thigh.

"You're really having a bad day, hm? Come on, let's get you down."

(Y/n) didn't want him to help. She didn't want to ask Evan for help, but she wasn't truly asking and he wasn't being put out. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden, but was she being a burden if Evan was only offering to help her down the stairs? He helped her all the time, did that count as being annoying to him?

And she didn't want to go down the stairs on her own. Not after last night. Her body was shaking just at the thought.

(Y/n) momentairely forgot about her damaged ribs until Evan tried to slip his arms around her waist. When he helped her he usually lifted her up and sat her on his hips so he could carry her on his front. He would squeeze her thighs and kiss her neck and tell her he wasn't putting her down until she had kissed him at least a hundred times.

The moment Evan pressed his arms into her sides and placed his hands down on her back, (Y/n) cried out. It was hard not to scream and she choked on a gurgling cry when Evan tensed and froze in front of her.

"What? What did I do?" Panic surged through Evan's voice and he tried to pull back to look down at her but she wouldn't let him.

Her face tucked into his neck and her trembling arms curled around his neck to stop him from trying to move away from her. Evan gulped when he felt (Y/n) begin to whimper into his neck and her shaking broke through into him and made him rock back and forth on the stairs.

"Baby, you're scaring me."

"J-just a bad day… my chest hurts t-that's all."

He didn't believe that, but Evan wasn't going to push the subject here on the stairs. He tried to think how to get her down without touching or hurting her chest.

"Let's try get you down, tell me to stop if you need to." He moved his hands down beneath her bum and cupped the top of her thighs. He leaned his weight backwards and very slowly straightened up to keep his balance so he didn't topple them both backwards down the stairs. Once he was stood up, Evan kept his hands on her bum and turned around to start walking down.

He could still feel the way she was shaking against him and her breaths were fast and shallow against his neck. She wasn't well today and it was worrying him to no end.

(Y/n) braced her hands on his shoulders and slowly uncurled her legs from Evan's hips until she was stood on her feet again.

Her head started to spin and her breaths started to run away without her. Each breath was starting to hurt. It was like taking a proper breath made her ribs splinter and break all over again and the thought had more tears rushing down her face. But she wiped them away and turned towards the door. She needed to put her shoes on and grab her jacket.

A walk would do her some good and hopefully take some of the pain away and make it more bearable. She would grab some painkillers when they came back and dose up so she could breathe and speak and move without worrying Evan. She wasn't going to panic him any more than this.

"We're not going if you're in this much pain. What did you do, bump into the door or something, baby?"

Evan braced his hands on his hips and cocked a hip to the side when (Y/n) looked down at his arm. He knew she tended to focus on his tattoos to distract herself when she couldn't look him in the eye.

"I'm okay. I need to keep moving, let's go on a walk." (Y/n) swiped the remaining tears from her face and tried to take proper breaths to calm herself down.

Anger tore through Evan when he watched (Y/n) turn her back on him and move towards the door. She wasn't well, he could see it. He could see the way she was still breathing fast and shallow and she was shuffling rather than walking. Her legs must be stiff and him touching her chest made her cry. Something wasn't right and she wasn't telling him.

When (Y/n) leaned down to pick up her shoe, Evan saw the way she winced and moved a hand to cradle her side but even her light touch seemed to burn her and make her whimper.

He wasn't playing this game.

Evan kept his steps light and agile and the moment he stood behind (Y/n), he didn't give her chance to argue or try and ward him away.

"Evan-"

A shriek tore past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned forward to brace her hand on the wall when she felt Evan behind her. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up before she could stop him. He pulled it up to her shoulders and let the hem of her shirt fold over her shoulders and neck so he could see what she was trying to hide from him.

"Evan, I- I-"

"What the fuck happened to you?!" His hands hovered over her sides but he didn't dare touch her. He let her turn around in front of him and it let him see the damage more clearly. Bruising had bloomed all along her back and around the left side of her chest. Various colours ranging from black to purple to splotches of red and brown. She was a canvas that had been splattered with paint.

What had she done? What happened while he had been at work? Why on Earth didn't she call him?

A small knock to any part of (Y/n)'s body caused her immense pain so Evan couldn't imagine the agony she was going through with these kinds of bruises.

"What. Happened?" Evan held (Y/n)'s chin between his thumb and finger and tilted her head up so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. He could feel his resolve crumbling when tears started to drench down her face but he wasn't budging until she told him what had gone on here.

"I fell."

"You fell? Fell into what, baby? This is bad… Christ baby girl this is real bad." Evan crouched down in front of her and moved his hands to hold her hips. He kissed her stomach and felt a shiver tear through her abdomen before he looked around her chest. He tried to dance his fingertips along her chest as delicately as he could. Evan knew she was sensitive at the best of times but even more so when she was hurt.

He didn't want to touch her and add any more pain, but he wanted to see the extent of her damage. The way she cringed and cried out and grabbed his shoulders made Evan feel tears welling up in his own eyes.

"I think you've definitely broken a few… come on, talk to me."

(Y/n) stayed silent, rolling her lips together as she moved one hand to point towards the stairs.

"What… oh- fuck no. You fell down the stairs?" Evan pulled back up and dragged his fingers through his hair. "Why the Hell didn't you call me? Baby you've broken your ribs, you could have broken your neck why wouldn't you call me to come home? Why didn't you tell me when I came in?"

Tears traced down (Y/n)'s face before she could stop herself and her hands moved up to cover her face. She could feel each shallow breath panting into the palm of her hands and her tears soaked into her fingers. She didn't want to be doing this. She didn't want to be crying her eyes out in front of Evan like this, but she couldn't stop herself.

She couldn't seem to do anything right. All she did seemed to go wrong or make things worse and now she had panicked and upset Evan when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Baby why didn't you call me-"

"Because I'm not being a burden to you!"

(Y/n) dropped her hands back down before she smoothed them up and down her thighs to try and stop them from shaking and sweating. She could feel herself hiccupping through her words and her chest felt like it was shredded to pieces with each fast breath she panted.

But it was the look in Evan's eyes that made her heart drop down to the pit of her stomach.

His blue eyes seemed to turn five shades darker until they were navy blue, bordering on black. Redness swelled beneath his eyes and a sheet of crimson burned along his neck and flushed his face.

His brows furrowed and he seemed to straighten up and become taller at the same time as he took a step back.

Evan didn't understand. What had he done to give her that impression? What did he say to her out of context or in passing or without thinking that made (Y/n) wonder if she had become a burden to him? Whatever he had done, he didn't mean it. Evan never wanted her to have that kind of impression and he thought he had done everything right so she wouldn't ever think like that.

"Why would you say that?" The utter defeat in Evan's voice made a sob burn at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she tilted her head back as if it would somehow push all the tears to the back of her head.

"Because I am."

"What did I do?" His question left her stumped. Their conversations had shifted, he was on a different track completely. "What did I say to make you think that?"

(Y/n) moved her hands and tangled her trembling fingers together, shaking her hands out to try and release some nervous energy but it only made her fingers ache. Why was Evan on that track? He had never done anything that made her feel like she was a burden to him and she had never said something like this to him before. (Y/n) would never want Evan to think that way because there was nothing he could do that would make her think bad of him. Ever.

"Evan…" Her wrist swiped beneath her eye and collected a fresh stream of tears. "Everyone sees it. T-they see how I burden you… I can't rely on you for everything and keep doing this to you."

"Who the fuck told you that?"

Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip deep enough to draw specks of blood that pooled around her tongue and made her cringe. She could barely see Evan due to the tears cascading down her face and she wasn't sure she wanted to see his reaction either.

Her head tilted back to look up at the high ceiling above them when she whispered "Eddie's party."

A gasp tumbled past her swollen lips when Evan's hands suddenly cupped her face. She didn't hear or see him move. He stood directly in front of her, close enough that (Y/n) could feel each turbulent breath that fanned past his lips and mingled with her own. She could feel his rough chest rising and falling less than a centimetre away from her own and she couldn't look anywhere but at his eyes when he tilted her head back.

His thumbs glided across her burning face just beneath her eyes and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers until her breathing hitched and her nose twitched and tickled.

"That was one person who knows nothing about us. Baby, no one else thinks like that, no one else is that warped and stupid. What she came out with doesn't matter-"

"It does! Evan you… you shouldn't have to be my carer-"

"The only thing that matters here is us. If I tell you I wanna look after you then I will and no one can say shit about it. You're not making me do anything. If I wanna carry you up and down those stairs for the rest of my life, I'll do it. If I wanna stay home and help you when you're having a rough day, that's my choice. No one is forcing me to do anything, I look after my girl because I love you."

There was nothing anyone could say that would make Evan feel differently about this or make him see things differently.

Lucy had no right to say what she did and he wished to God that (Y/n) hadn't heard, or that she had at least listened to what he said in retaliation.

It didn't matter what anyone said because they weren't in this relationship. Evan wanted to look after (Y/n) when she was ill, he wanted to stay home and make sure she was resting and had her meds and he wanted to help her go on walks and exercise to feel better. He wanted to pick her up when she couldn't climb the stairs herself. Evan wanted to stay home with her rather than go out alone and have a boring time he would regret.

Evan was never going to regret staying home with (Y/n) or helping her or looking after her because he loved her and he saw caring for her as a sign of his love. It wasn't a habit or a ritual or a job he had to do.

Nothing would make him see this situation any differently.

"You should have called me."

"And say what? Evan you're a fireman, I c- I can't make you come home when you're at work and your job is important-"

"(Y/n) you're important too!" His tone and pitch took (Y/n) by surprise and she shuddered when his thumbs pressed into her cheekbones so he could get her to look at him again. "If you have a fall and you're hurt, then I expect you to call me. I don't want you hiding things like this from me. My job is just that, it's a job and it doesn't mean more to me than my family."

If she got hurt, Evan wanted to know. He wanted her to call him whether she was crying or screaming or half passed out on the floor. Evan wanted her to ring him and tell him she was injured and she needed help. He wanted to be the one to help her and if he couldn't come home right away, he would make sure someone was there with her.

He didn't want to sit at work being none the wiser that she was hurt. It ground Evan down and made him angry beyond reason that he had been thinking everything was fine when (Y/n) had clearly been in agony, home alone.

She should have called him.

"Promise me you won't try and hide things like this from me."

"I promise," Her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper carried away on the wind, but it was enough for Evan. It was enough to calm the storm raging through his soul and make him finally take a proper, deep breath.

He leaned down and closed the distance between them. Tasting her lips, stealing her breath, swiping his tongue across the little flecks of blood welling up on her lower lip. He let his fingers slide down to curl across the side of her neck while his nose brushed hers and his lips stayed hovering over hers even after they pulled back.

"Now please, let me take you to get checked out."

[aoaaaoth-if]

Adventures of Aphrodite: an Affair of the Heart™

You are Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, the bad bitch every instagram girlie aspires to be, the flawless independent queen who don't need no filters. 

You are the ultimate trophy wife, but who do you truly belong to?

Play as a very attractive lady, because who wants to be ugli in the year of our lord 2023, amiright?

Experience firsthand what it means to be pretty, have your godtier looks be praised, your moisturized skin be acknowledged. Not like any other IF will ever offer you this. 

Customize your character to hell and back, be as detailed and precise as you wish, truly PANTONE® Colour Chart's the limit. Obviously none of it will be mentioned in the game, but what else is new.

Live, laugh, love your best hoe life... or die trying. Gotta shoehorn those skill checks somehow.

Immerse yourself in the world of Ancient Greece that has the historical accuracy of a 5 minute wikipage read, because research is hard.

-----------------THE PLOT:

Idk, who cares about plot it's all about the romance options anyway.

-----------------THE ROS:

(The image depicts ugliman)

The god of blacksmiths, metalworking, carpente- frankly, who cares. The important bit is that he's your husband. Your pesky husband. And he ain't even hot. How's a girl to hoe in such conditions? 

Well perhaps it's time to reevaluate your life choices and settle for a hardworking trustworthy man instead of chasing bdsm fantasies with shady men like you're the protagonist of a bad erotica book. Pursuing red flags is cute, but you're no longer 18. Learn to make good decisions with this wholesome man who'll treat you right, lord knows some of you need it.

(The image depicts angriman)

Being married is all nice and well, but is your marriage even real if you don't cheat? And who's a better candidate for a lover than the god of war and courage himself. The pinacle of brutality, the alpha man of your dreams, the undisputed 'TOP G'.

His violent outbursts may be concerning and his crippling jealousy slightly questionable but is that really going to deter you from pursuing this hunk? After all, if those aren't signs of true love then what are?

Put your rose-tinted glasses and 'i can fix him' badge on, it's time to go digging for the mushy center of this bad boi.

(The image depicts uwuman)

Hooking up with gods is all well and good, but the never ending drama of the Olympus gods gets old fast. Sometimes a palette cleanser is needed, but you won't settle for just any unwashed peasant. Even your magnanimous generosity has limits.

Fortunately for you, one individual stands out among the rest: Adonis.

Commit to this otherwise unremarkable specimen and prove to the world you haven't lost the common touch. Includes obligatory Poly with Persephone, because sharing is caring. 

The token woman RO, She's a woman, what more do you need to know? 

____________________________ DEMO: TBA (but like, let's be real, it never will.. has following 23092 nodemo blogs taught you nothing?) Pls like, reblog, follow and send asks, every Friday there will be a new RO reveal!

[frankiensteinsmonster]

The most liberating thing for me as a 'newly' (no idea when it began. Dissociation is a Bitch and a half.) physically disabled person who's already been dealing with multiple mental health disorders is just.

Blatant acceptance of having a chronic condition. I do what I can to lessen my symptoms, but I don't do every little thing that's suggested to me. Mostly because I've done it all before. I've spent so long fighting with my mental health, never accommodating myself, never taking a day off, masking and hiding my symptoms as best as I could, no one ever went easy on me and I didn't know how to stop it.

But now I couldn't hide it if I wanted to, and wouldn't even if I had the chance. I'm disabled. Full stop and that's just the way it is right now and it may stay that way forever. But with the way things have been, if I kept treating myself as something less than my top priority, frankly, I wouldn't be able to go on.

I let myself lay down, I learned that my gritty attitude isn't always a good thing and wearing myself to the bone just to keep up and perform ability isn't just a couple days in bed anymore.

I've started demanding respect. Enforcing my boundaries. Complaining loudly and snapping at people who touch my aid if I feel they deserve it. I started taking up space. I stopped moving for people on the sidewalk because the world doesn't "belong to everyone but me" (something I've felt for a long time). As a disabled person, I need to make sure I know that I matter-- for my sake and for the sake of other cripples.

I'm less friendly. It's on purpose. I give less grace. I'm bitter and I cut my eyes and I suck my teeth at the ignorant people who annoy me and get in my way. I'm no fun by choice and I like it that way. I refuse to be a novelty, I refuse to beg god to make me better, I refuse to hurt myself for the sake of others, I refuse take shit from doctors that won't listen and I like myself more because of it.

I don't need to make a point of making myself appear to be stronger or more resilient than I am, because I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I'm learning to Truly ask for help when I need it, and to accept help when it's offered. Riding this wave of shit hasn't been a breeze by any means, but making it my own and writing my name on it has made it a hell of a lot easier.

Td;lr? If you're disabled, try being a little bit of a bitch. It's fun and good for your mental health <3 (read post for context)

(I say this as someone who's been taught that assertiveness and prioritizing oneself is a Bad Thing, we're not actually "bitches" for wanting basic respect or for caring about ourselves!! And if we are, so the fuck what?)

[arx-aru]

the way the cleanrot helm's plume is like. so weird in comparison to other plumes is so cool actually .

listen. it's IMPORTANT okay-

because because BECAUSE-

cuz AT FIRST you're probably disappointed it isn't the super pretty, detailed hair the banished knights and others get but then u realize

it's obviously shaped like hair right. but also it's split into 2 solid clumpy bits almost like

like malenia's weird ass phase 2 hair-wings!!

and their model is definitely meant to emphasize this because the set is tailored exactly so their unique limp walk cycle / idle animations splits the clumps 😭 😭

ft finlay cuz wild cleanrots are flighty(hahaha get it)

and !! the fact the helm ALSO has the 2 feathered white wings, and their full set has a Miquellan unalloyed gold necklace / Miquellan eclipse halo scythe, and obviously the way they favor their left side / wield their sword in their right hand--

forget the item descriptions; their very design says they're all in for Malenia, no matter what sobriquet and form she claims. They're so endlessly loyal they give themselves to the Goddess of Rot, and they share the Blade of Miquella's love of her twin, accepting her choice of subservience, and they're even right beside the Severed in her lopsided form. they hold themselves in her image, no matter how monstrous, crippled, and forlorn she may be

And none of them deserted. Like the Black Knights burned to ash beside Gwyn, they dedicate their being and eternal soul to their liege--and like their successors, their scarce surviving number stride even now with purpose and intent.

They even protect their lord's daughter, be it the illusory Gwynevere or the manipulated Millicent, the vestiges of the world they tried to build.

They are left but ash and rot, yet still they stand, unto the end of the world.

they are, in their chosen fate, triumphant

(what i mean to say is these bitches gay)

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice]

Ninjago as thing said at my school

Some of these are based off the faux interviews we did as a gag for theater, we filmed each other doing different shit and pretended it was a documentary/interview(I got to be the interviewer for most of em aside from the bio one which is where I was being filmed) Interviewer Cole: How do you feel about gay people Jay: uh... glad at least someone's happy? Nya: Wrong kind of gay Jay Jay: Shit Interviewer Lloyd: There are some theories you got the lead only because you're tall how do you feel about this? Zane: Ma'am I'm on tech?

Pixal: *doing a bio project* And now all I have to do is... son of a bitch Her totally knowledgeable project partner Kai: that's never a good sound Pixal: That's it I'm fucking quitting, I'm just gonna take the L and just fucking fail bio Kai: *looking right into the camera whispering* so we're doomed Pixal: I'm just gonna dislocate my brain and cease existing Cameraman Cole: If I understood what was going on I would probably suggest something, alas I'm dumb so I'm gonna call Zane (My big bio project is not going well)

Lloyd: I may be cringe but I'm also free unlike someone Jay: At least I look like a respectable mamber of scociety Kai: no you don't, give up

Cole: So finals are coming up, you know what that means? Zane: Studying Cole: Mental breakdowns *Him and literally all the other ninja fist bump*

Kai: I'm so hot that people ignore my crippling parental issues Jay literally trying to eat a sandwich: No, they notice Nya: Join the club buckaroo Lloyd: I'm sorry bucka-what?

[luckykittysshowerthoughts]

Lucifer and Caretaker’s Fatigue

I feel like something that isn't talked about enough with Lucifer's character is caretaker's fatigue. A lot of people seem to attribute the power dynamics in the brothers' relationship as just Lucifer being a domineering control freak, which while to some extent is true, isn't the whole story. There's a reason he is the "parent" of the situation.

Do you really think any of the brothers are equipped to live independently?

No.

Mammon's chin-deep in debt with a serious gambling addiction, kleptomanic tendencies that could easily get him in legal trouble, and cannot hold down a job. Mammon actually did try to move out at one point but quickly moved back in when he realized renting a place of his own costs too much money. Any money he may make in his modelling career would be blown off on gambling and impulse-purchases long before he could pay for his essentials.

Leviathan has crippling social anxiety. Not "shy uwu" social anxiety, but actually crippling. We see full-on meltdowns and his way of life is heavily impacted. He's also a huge impulse-spender just like Mammon, and he'd be hard-pressed to find a job that pays enough to keep up with that that also isn't too much social interaction for his mental health. And forget it when he floods his entire apartment next time he has a Lotan-summoning tantrum and either gets kicked out or has to pay thousands in damages.

Satan may seem like he'd fare the best out of the brothers, but think about the legal ramifications of his rage. He has demonstrated repeatedly that he will break and endanger both property and people when in a rage, and despite his best efforts he still loses control. He could end up in some serious legal trouble if he didn't have someone like Lucifer to fix things behind-the-scenes and keep him from doing anything too destructive that he'll regret.

Beelzebub couldn't possibly find enough food to feed himself. Even Lucifer, with connections to Lord Diavolo himself, has trouble staying on top of keeping Beel fed. Now imagine Beel trying to scrape together the money to afford his eating habits. Now imagine him unable to pay bills because he spent all his money on cheeseburgers. Now imagine him getting sued for property damage because of a hangry episode.

Belphie just straight up cannot work because of his low energy and constant tiredness. He probably wouldn't even be able to keep up with basic living like keeping a house clean and washing the dishes. He has no energy to support himself.

All of these very much present as disabilities. I’m not going to diagnose them with specific conditions here, but a disability is just a physical or mental abnormality that makes normal things unusually difficult for a person and interferes with their daily life. All of the brothers very much qualify for this. Lucifer’s brothers are disabled, and Lucifer is their caretaker. And that explains a lot of his behavior- caregiver's fatigue can be a real bitch. This guy is exhausted, and understandably so.

[jackgoodfellow]

~ King of Winter and Toxic Positivity ~

I've made you all a "motivational" poster! 🥰🥰🥰

" Manifest your dream reality through sheer force of will! Anyone can do it! Pull yourself up by the bootstraps! Be a self-made king! Good things happen to good people! Get in that grindset! The only one standing in the way of your dreams is you! Anyone can do it! Nothing is impossible! Everything happens for a reason! Everything will be fine, so don't worry! You can do whatever you set your mind to! Never give up on anything! Every failure is just an opportunity in disguise! Have you tried yoga?? Have you tried supplements? Would you like to hear about an exciting new business opportunity? It's all part of God's plan! You just gotta stop fearing SUCCESS. Happiness is a choice! Delete negativity! Push every boundary! For winners, limits are merely suggestions! Lean in! Don't take no for an answer!! Anyone can do it!! "

[for those who deal with eyestrain, there's a plain-text version of the above pink and green paragraph of assorted toxic positivity slogans copied down at the bottom of the post.]

Anyway, it turns out the people who are willing to look you in the face and tell you that your oppressive burdens are in fact not that heavy at all... are people that either don't have that same burden, or people who are comfortable forcing someone else to carry it for them. - All while they proudly take the credit.

and also, he's HORRIBLE it's FANTASTIC I love him, 11/10, Evil Gay Bitch Gold Medalist, REALLY puts the MLM into mlm [the "Multi-Level-Marketing" into "man-loving-man"]

❄ ❄ ❄

More context and thoughts, if you're a media analysis nerd:

I am, however, obviously a media analysis JOCK 😅

So, the actual toxic positivity quote that I used in the image was inspired by the commentary made in these two episodes of the excellent anti-fatphobia (and therefore anti-capitalist) podcast "Maintenance Phase".

It's a two-parter on this one piece-of-shit white lady wellness influencer, and the hosts are funny and awesome and the entire catalogue of the podcast matters a lot.

[Sidenote: the episode "Is Being Fat Bad For You?" is VITAL shit. - My main takeaway has been that it's ALWAYS better to be fat than to be fatphobic. Every time.]

But the main point that is relevant here is the way this podcast helps peel back the ugly truth of a broader phenenomen:

In other words, it is notable that the kind of people who say things like "We all have the same 24 hours in a day!" are generally also people who already have the money to pay someone else to clean their house, thus literally giving them more free hours in a day, than say, the people they are paying (or underpaying) to give them that time.

And what stuck with me most from these two episodes is the absolute open disrespect that toxically positive privileged people often have for the very individuals they are relying on for all those extra hours they seem to find in a day.

Because the thing is, most of them absolutely buy their own bullshit. They HAVE to.

In order to justify the way of the world to themselves and ease their guilt over their role in it (while still maintaining all their power), they end up so good at lying to themselves that they see no irony in funding their personal business ventures with money from their wealthy parents and spouses... and then calling themselves "self-made."

Anyone can do it, after all! (There are simply certain things that are best left unsaid! Best not to be rude!) And any kind of shake to this worldview means they might just-- crumble to dust!!

And in my personal experience as a Poor Cripple [TM], those folks are champions at shaming the poor and disabled.

Folks like that might very well might very well force someone else to bear the crushing madness of their golden crown, so that they are free to build a beautiful kingdom of ice and agreeability!

They may see no issue, then, as they oh-so-benevolently relax on their throne, being waited upon and granting gifts to pretty strangers - all while pitying that nothing can be done for their poor disgusting maniac of a neighbor--except, of course, to punish them for the crimes they commit in their weak-willed madness~ 💚🩷

I. FUCKIN'. LOVE THIS SHIT, Y'ALL. GOOD WRITING. HELL YEAH.

[Not shown: the literal 6-page essay I wrote today while trying to explain FULLY and COMPLETELY why The Winter King episode matters so much to me. Turns out, in order to do that, I had to talk about the way casual ableism and classism can easily become extreme ableism and classism--and THAT got dark REAL FAST.

I didn't even finish writing it! I was headed to 8 pages at LEAST (and that's not even including talking about the wonderful artistic craftsmanship of the episode!!) when I realized that people might not reblog this as much if it included AN IN-DEPTH PERSONAL MANIFESTO ABOUT THE GRIM REALITIES OF CAPITALISM AND ABLEISM. So like... maybe that's a separate post lol]

Plain-text version of the colorful paragraph:

Manifest your dream reality through sheer force of will! Anyone can do it! Pull yourself up by the bootstraps! Be a self-made king! Good things happen to good people! Get in that grindset! The only one standing in the way of your dreams is you! Anyone can do it! Nothing is impossible! Everything happens for a reason! Everything will always be fine! You can do anything you set your mind to! Never give up on anything! Every failure is just an opportunity in disguise! Have you tried yoga? You just gotta stop fearing SUCCESS. Happiness is a choice! Delete negativity! Push every boundary! Limits are merely suggestions! Lean in! Don't take no for an answer!! Anyone can do it!!

[generic-whumperz]

OC in 3

Choose 3 pics to represent your OC

Oops, I got overly excited and made 10 three-picture collages

Omg thank you @mj-iza-writer for the tag! I am honored that I came to mind! 🥹

No pressure (& open to anyone interested!) tag: @rainydaywhump @eatyourdamnpears @clairelsonao3 @dresden-syndrome @lights-out-knives-out @snakebites-and-ink

Soooo, I know I’m supposed only to pick three pics, but honestly, I simply cannot (I know, no surprise there). I have been wanting to do a vibe photo dump for The Aid (the Whumpee & title of the story) but have yet to do it (hello, my ever-expanding Pinterest boards), so I’ll take this chance to explore The Aid’s past phases he’s gone through (pre & post-Wyatt {Whumper #2}) and give some explanations because it’s a lot. However, I don’t know if explanations are necessary for this tag game, but I’m famously too much, so of course, I’m going to over-explain myself because of my crippling fear of being misunderstood!

Ironically (ironic because his real name reveal doesn't come until around chapter 25-ish), I call his time with Madame Eleanor (technical Whumper #1) his “Aid Era” because that’s when he becomes this character we are introduced to and currently know him as. Yet, this is the part of his life he is phasing out of. **Insert something-something about being haunted by your past.**

In the current storyline, he is going through a succession of more changes, and his world is about to be turned upside down yet again, but I’ll hold off on showing those for now because they’re spoilers, and I have more than enough here!

Starting from the top, here we goooo—

P.S. The people in these pics are not what the characters look like, this is simply vibes only!

Day 1

1. As soon as The Aid arrives at his new home, Madame Eleanor gets custom-made Gucci uniforms made for him that looks like this. This is his go-to everyday attire. (I spent too long looking at scrubs and hospitality uniforms on and off for over a month—tell me you like it and think it’s cool and sleek.)

2. He has a special built-in in his closet specifically for all his fancy, jewel-encrusted collars Madame Eleanor gifted him throughout the years, but this is what the facility's standard-issue collar looks like for his designation (Grand Servant: Domestic Aid).

3. His favorite Prada frames Madame Eleanor also got him that he bitches reminisces about in Chapter 6 (Wyatt breaks them because he’s an asshole, leaving him straight up blind for several months).

Fancy Threads

Eleanor Sullivan was a Rich Bitch™️ (I will make a separate post at some point about her house and The Aid’s room specifically because I spent way too much time obsessing over these deets), so best believe she had her servant dressed to the 9s in designer fits when out and about or for Family events and the like. She may also put him in a butler uniform from time to time when they were hosting a party at their residence—which was often, Eleanor was known for her soirées. (To clarify, he’d still wear a collar even when dressed up, and all those attending knew who and what he was.)

The Host

He loved a good party just as much as Eleanor did! He likes serving and seeing people have fun and enjoy themselves (people-pleasing empath). He was known for his food displays and had a knack for creating a proper afternoon tea spread that garnered attention from all those present. I also have Pinterest boards of some appetizer spreads and cool drink tables he would put together because I was really trying to understand him as a character.

Speaking of Empath…

We can’t talk about him without bringing up his not-so-secret secret! Lil’ homie has a gang of abilities (telepathic empathy, hyper intuition, premonitions, and psychometry) just bubbling up inside him at all times. His relationship with himself and his sixth senses is complicated, to say the least—he finds them burdensome, yet he cannot function without them, despite how much he argues otherwise. It’s a whole thing, but for a certified Telepathic-Empath™️, he sure is dead inside (which only gets worse after Wyatt OFC).

*Sorry for the shitty upload quality of the Emotional Sponge, idk why it looks so bad!

Domestic Duties

Not only can he slap together the best charcuterie board you’ve ever seen and easily untangle Christmas lights, but he’s also a man who can cook, clean, and keep a house. What can’t he do?

Hobbies? Interests?

Don’t be ridiculous, he didn’t have time for leisure activities! But when he had some occasional downtime, he would spend an ungodly amount of it doing facials and grooming himself. He also loved to go to the spa with Madame Eleanor. As far as reading went, he wasn’t into novels, but he would occasionally peruse short-story myths and legends, old fables, or read picture books in funny voices to Eleanor’s grandchildren. Primarily, he’d like to read trashy magazines, comics, and cookbooks. But let’s be real, he considered cleaning, gossiping, and baking his primary hobbies.

RIP Madame Eleanor Sullivan

(She’s been dead for about a year and a half when they story picks up)

First and foremost—above everything else—The Aid was Eleanor Sullivan’s literal live-in medically trained caregiver, which is why she bought him in the first place. They had a very close relationship for five years, and he did everything for her. When she died, his world was shattered, and he took her death really hard. Wyatt was jealous of his Mother’s relationship with her servant from day one, which is where part of his animosity comes from. Quick note—Eleanor was a posh, vintage-Chanel-wearing Grandma and would never be caught dead wearing a bathrobe outside. Eleanor was Queen of being That Bitch.

Enter: Wyatt Sullivan

These pics are pretty tame all things considered, but after Eleanor’s death, The Aid is now in a World O’ Hurt and the subject of Wyatt’s drug-and-alcohol-fueled rage. The Aid went from a high-class servant loved by his Madame and respected by her friends, associates, and family (besides Wyatt) to a human punching bag overnight. The beef between these two runs deep and maybe Eleanor isn’t as innocent as she seems. Stick around and you’ll find out all the Sullivan family tea.

To: Wyatt

Just some memes directed towards Wyatt and The Aid being painfully aware of his shitty situation (I got too many of these and had to sprinkle some in).

Where We’re at Now…

Quite the fall from grace, wouldn’t you say? Our boy is currently bed-ridden and zombified while having the worst time imaginable. He’s drugged up, fucked up, and can’t move half of his body! But don’t be fooled, this stay-cation is no fluffy recovery arc and you’ll meet some more distasteful Sullivans soon to come!

This took me an embarrassing amount of time to assemble, but I went the extra mile because this doubles as a reference guide. I had a lot of fun making this and I may make more (and way more chill ones that are just three pics, I swear) after I write Part 2 and introduce a gang of other characters alongside my most favorite-favorite guy!

[4dorks-1windmage-1shadow]

Would you be willing to do the most recent headcanon list you reblogged for each of the colors?

I already did Red but I'll do the other four here

Sexuality Headcanon:

Green - Bisexual & Polyamorous (this will be a trend)

Blue - Pansexual & Polyamorous

Vio - Bisexual & Demi-romantic/Polyamorous

Shadow - Pansexual & Polyamorous

Gender Headcanon:

Green - Cis male

Blue - Cis male

Vio - Genderfluid, sometimes trans (again, modern AUs)

Shadow - Genderfluid/nonbinary what is a gender he doesn't care to know

A ship I have with said character:

Green/Vaati i LOVE hero/villain dynamics, they are golden retriever/grumpy drama king to me, their relationship is "me + the bad bitch i pulled by being effortlessly kind/charming/funny/humble/gay" instagram captions.

Blue/Everyone. The secret to Blue is that he actually cares SO MUCH, but if anyone calls him out on it he will die on the spot. This is tragic and inevitable (he is bad at hiding it)

Vidow is my ultimate OTP, they are so fascinating to me i want to put them in a blender set it to high and then watch it go nuts. They are toxic and co dependent and would kill for each other and also kill each other too. 100/10 ship I'm a Vidow apologist and i will die on this hill

Is it cheating to say i ship all of them together? They can be one big polycule as a treat

A BROTP I have with said character:

Green and Shadow. Unstoppable force (Shadow) meets immovable object (Green). They have oldest sibling/youngest sibling energy

Blue and Green is also good, they have a bromance unlike anything the world has ever seen. They are always pushing each other to be better and also doing the dumbest stunts for the vine

Vio and Vaati would be infodump pals. They started talking about magic theory at 10 in the morning over breakfast and are still talking about it at 1 am the next day

A NOTP I have with said character:

Literally the only character i can think of is Tingle.

A random headcanon:

Green - my most consistent hc across all AUs/canon is that he has head to toe freckles.

Blue - given a modern AU, Blue joins theater as a way to deal with his anger issues. Not only does it work, but he ends up with a passion for the performing arts as a result

Vio - he has crippling anxiety and is a chronic over thinker. He needs Xanax and a nap.

Shadow - given a modern AU, Shadow is the lead guitar/singer/screamer in a rock band (Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce the Veil, AS IT IS aesthetic/sound), and he can also play almost any instrument that he picks up. He has a huge collection of instruments.

General Opinion over said character:

Green - the funniest thing I've ever seen is people saying that Green wouldn't cheat in a fight RE: my "who would win in a fight" polls and like you're all valid and all OBJECTIVELY wrong, he cheats in the fight against Vio at Death Mountain. He may have morals but he is not lawful good

Blue - I miss him. Where are the blue centric fanfics. Come back from the war please. Someone put this idiot in situations

Vio - perfect amzing beautiful showstopping spectacular always original awful awful man his veins are filled with anxiety instead of blood and i want him dissected by the fandom immediately

Shadow - scrunkly. Shaped. I want to hug him and never let go

[ssavinggrace]

thalia grace incorrect quotes

thalia: Fool me once, I’m gonna kill you

thalia: I’d like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals

thalia: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck

thalia: If you can’t beat them, dress better than them

thalia: I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don’t know that. Neither do I. I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude

thalia: If I'm really as evil as you say I am, then have the gods strike me down where I stand.*Lightning strikes thalia* thalia: Ha! Nice try, jackass! Next time, give it your A-game!

thalia: Goodnight moon.thalia: Goodnight tree.thalia: Goodnight ghosts that only I can see.

thalia: Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so...

thalia, playing a VR game: You see, that’s the thing. It PROBABLY is fine. It’s PROBABLY 100% okay. There are PROBABLY no spiders in this headset.thalia: BUT- as you may be able to relate to- If you find a spider in your headset, and then have to put that headset on to play video games...thalia: YoU jUsT dOnT gEt ToO cOMfOrTaBlE.

thalia: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

thalia: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 32

Cw: mentions of voyeurism, infidelity and past murders

Gif by @fxtxdsxuls

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9 @aemondx @ewanmitchellcrumbs @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

They negotiate a truce.

She will give him a chance if he begins giving her what she is owed as his wife.

Her affair with Aemond would continue with conditions.

Conditions that she agrees to because to lose Aemond would kill her desire to live.

Aemma is aware that she could survive a breakup like that, but Aegon knows she was not lying about those thoughts that creep into her mind telling her to jump.

But Aegon will need more than one heir because Targaryen babies are as fragile as porcelain dolls ---and occasionally born without hearts, covered in dragon scales and filled with maggots.

“Fine, I suppose Aenys will need a sister to marry or we might need a spare in case he dies, but I will watch as he seeds you.” Aegon threw up his hands as he caved.

Aemond will hate it.

But he negotiated with Aegon about the terms of their affair without any input from her whatsoever the first time around. The queen supposed this was karma reminding Aemond she never forgets a bitch.

Besides, Aemma will make Aegon hate it, hold eye contact as Aemond ruins her pussy in front of him and cry out his brother’s name in a way she will never say Aegon’s.

It’s the perfect plan.

“Why?” she asks playing dumb. Aegon likely wants to stake his ownership of her that way or at least make it awkward enough to make them break things off themselves.

Oh, Aemma is going to make him wish he had never married her.

“I enjoy watching people fuck.” He said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m curious as to how my One-Eyed baby brother gets you to scream until you’re hoarse. Once I am completely recovered, I may deign to share you with him, you have not known fucking until you have had both ----"

“Orwyle said a year, by then I suppose I will be sufficiently recovered from the birth. You do not need to paint me a picture.” Aemma is embarrassed by how freely he speaks of this, of how his eyes dilate as he paints a vivid image of her being fucked by both brothers.

“Ah, yes, but what a picture it would be. A reversal of Aegon the Conqueror with me being the Visenya and Aemond being the Rhaenys.

Next son we have will be named Maegor, to complete the portrait, obviously.”

Her plans of torturing him until he annuls their marriage have been dashed to pieces now that because this fucking shithead gets aroused just by speaking of it!

Gods, she can never win against this man!

“If you want us to perform for you, you will have to give me what I am owed as your wife.” If she must lower herself for this and drag Aemond with her, it will cost him.

For Aegon’s sake, Alicent graciously moves out of the rooms she has had since she was made queen.

He wants to fix things with the conniving little whore who smirks as she directs her servants into adjusting the chambers to her tastes.

The green fabrics and images of the faith are the first thing to go.

Alicent chooses to move into the Tower of the Hand with her Father than accept lesser chambers here.

Aemond has moved into Rhaenyra’s old chambers as Prince Regent and interim Prince of Dragonstone, Helaena and her husband kept their modest chambers by the royal nursery and Daeron has moved into Aemond’s old rooms as they are perfect for a young and unattached prince.

Alicent refuses to let them see this as an insult to her.

“She is his queen; it is only appropriate for her to reside in the queen’s rooms.” She says when Criston pretends to be offended on her behalf.

Criston is to guard the king and queen because he is also Aegon’s Hand.

This Aegon had said when he threatened to have him punished for breaking his vows with the king’s wife when he still lived.

“Taking Rhaenyra’s maidenhead I can forgive, she was unwed and stupid, you, had Aemond in crippling pain from the loss of his eye and your husband alive in the next room,” Aegon had said eating an apple as he ruled from his bed. “Kingmaker, I should call you mother fucker.”

Aemma had managed to get her grandfather out of the Black Cells, her mother’s ladies sent home and now Baela Targaryen was back in her household.

Jena Wylde was her Mistress of the Robes, Samantha Tarly and Baela as ladies-in-waiting. Elinor Stokeworth and Elinor Swann were made her cupbearers, and Septa Teora was returned her.

Alicent does not wish to know what sort of price Aemma paid to get all this.

“I know, but it is that sort of thing you are not into.” Alys quips as they begin moving in her things into the mistress’ chambers in the Tower of the Hand. “Well, you aren’t, but our dear Lord Commander has had the occasional fantasy about.” The witch adds with a wink and Criston answered with an annoyed scoff.

“Keep out of my mind, witch. Do not forget many would like nothing more than to be rid of you.” He threatened, but by then Alicent was no longer paying attention.

She lived here as a young girl, after mother died and she began to run father’s household.

When Lyonel Strong lived here it was occupied by the eldest of his daughters as he had never remarried after his second wife’s death.

Then after the rooms had stayed empty.

Until now, that is.

“I see your son has tossed you aside as well.” Her father comments with that ‘I told you so’ she has been dreading since Criston returned with Aemma fettered in iron chains.

“Something must be done to curb her influence on them.” She confides in him once Criston leaves and Alys busied herself with the day’s work.

“Yes, a shame we must wait until the babe is born to be rid of Rhaenyra’s whelp.” Her father said, casually hinting at murder as they had supper together. “The first Aemma died birthing the heir for a day, her mother died from childbed fever and your darling stepdaughter bled to death, if our little queen were to perish then, none would be the wiser.

You are not the only one with blood on your hands, my dear. I killed the first Aemma, now allow me to kill the second Aemma.”

He looks at her knowing she killed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra who was her soulmate and sister and only true friend.

Would her father look at her with pride when he discovers she killed little Ellyn too?

A part of her tells her he will be prouder than he has ever been before.

After all, he just admitted to killing gracious queen Aemma who never did anything to him except exist.

[class-1b-bull]

Class 1B as random things me and my friends have said part 2.

(Once again i got every student but some got a bit more than others)

Not proofread we die like men

Awase: "35 dolla?!"

Tsubaraba: "its worth it for the vegetable titty pad"

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

Tsubaraba: "ya know like a bussy doctor. What are they called again? Pedestrian?"

Rin: "NO-"

Tsubaraba: "then whats a pedestrian?"

Rin: "a child doctor...."

Tsubaraba: "....i quit...."

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

Monoma: "i get to go home an hour early because a costumer told me to kill my self."

Rin: "damn. I get to go home because a costumer called me a woman."

Manga: "poggers. I get to go home because I was fired for drawing titties on cyborg."

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

Komori: "part of me hopes the fnaf movie is bad."

Kodai: "dont speak to me ever again."

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

Monoma: "I dont check my bank statement because im a bad bitch."

Kendo: "and your hiding from the fact that your in crippling debt."

Monoma: "....... bad bitch."

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

Shoda: "the tire pressure one."

*ends call*

Shoda: "i sounded so fucking smart" :D

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

Reiko: "death is starting to seem nice..."

Pony: "i actually just finished playing a dating game where you date the grim reaper! It was super cute. And yea he was really nice!"

Reiko: "not what i ment but okay-"

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

Manga: "youre honor, that wasent very skibbidy toilet gyatt of you.. you're really giving ohio fantam tax vibes and thats not gonna slide when my venus is doing the renegade."

Kamakiri: "hey... have you tried shutting the fuck up lately?"

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

Sen: "cool and all but i didnt ask..."

Setsuna: "yea you did. In my dream last night you came up to me and said 'at exactly 2:37 tomorrow, can you tell me your favorite things about the older pokemon games?' And i was like fuck yea! So yea... ya did ask."

Sen: "i fucking hate you."

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

Bondo: "and i really respect you so im not going to treat you differently based on some opinion that i may not agree with."

Kuroiro: "i think your favorite show is mid."

Bondo: "and im not going to treat you differently for that opinion. Even though its wrong.."

Setsuna: "i fucking will, the fuck you mean its mid?!"

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

Shiozaki: "how did you even.... get that far...?"

Shishida: "its the only game i play."

Shiozaki: "still i wouldn't expect you to have 100% over a 500 different levels in geometry dash..."

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

Pony: "a fucking pokemon theme song quiz? I got this shit who dosent know this song. Embarrassing honestly."

(46% correct.)

Pony: "... i am never speaking again."

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

Tetsutetsu: "i am packed full with so much testosterone that I could fight a horse."

Tetsutetsu: "i mean i would lose but i ckuld fight one."

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

Honenuki (or pony): "yea bomb threats in school are cool and whatever but do you believe in the power of friendship?"

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

Komori: "i swear he was flirting with me! I mean i hope he was because I was so red after he did that!"

Setsuna: "i highly doubt a monster from a horror game was flirting with you..."

Komori: "yea yea but did you SEE the way he dragged my corpse away? Hm? Snapped my neck and took me to dinner all in the same night as far as im concerned."

Reiko: "i am now forming a bracken protection squad just to protect him from you."

Pony: "ill make the t shirts!"

Gif anime - dungeon meshi

[thebusytypewriter]

So likeeeee Matsuda oneshot??? Maybe the two of them making out while on duty??? Or even just him bullying reader :33333 plssss (ok a more like formal idea would be Matsuda continuously bumping into reader in the hall and thinking he doesn’t like them when in reality he has a crippling crush on them and he’s just too tsundere to admit it or smth) (why is requesting smth off anon so scary to me)

EEE absolutely, Cressie! Thank you for requesting! I hope I do your bbg justice :D

The first time Matsuda bumps shoulders with you while passing in the hallway, he earns himself a large red splotch on the sleeve of his good dress shirt.

No, it isn’t blood. Yes, he makes sure of it.

It’s paint, of all things. It makes sense, he supposes, given how you are the Ultimate Artist. The two of you have never really spoken, even though you both landed in the same section of the 77th Class, but that also makes sense. After all, his talent is strongly rooted in the sciences—neurology—while yours is among the arts.

Matsuda scowls as he dabs at the stubborn red spot with a paper towel. The arts, to him, are a waste of time. They can be a source of endorphins, but there are better, more efficient ways to acquire them than to just… well. He’s not entirely sure what it is that you do, but he can tell by your frantic running that it brings you more stress than joy.

(Like he should be the one to judge for that.)

The second time, it’s a green stain. The third, it’s black. Fourth, orange.

Matsuda’s running out of good shirts.

The fifth time he bumps into you in the hallway, paint finally remains out of the equation. Instead, you nearly knock him straight into the trash can with the sheer force of your hurry.

He catches himself on the wall and manages to avoid falling into the can, cursing all the way as you scramble to a stop. You’re babbling, he observes, mostly filled with apologies and questions about his wellbeing, all while you look at him with those large doe eyes. Matsuda spots a dry patch of blue paint on your cheek, as well as some in your hair. Your painter’s smock is absolutely littered with colorful stains, of course. He doubts you’ve noticed or even care at this point.

It’s rather… cute.

You’re reaching for him with a pinched brow. Shit, he must’ve missed everything you said. He smacks your hand away with a grumble. “Watch where you’re going, then, ditzy bitch.”

Leaving his first words spoken to you hanging in the air, he marches away toward the psych lab. He feels your wide-eyed stare burning into his back.

You don’t bump into him again after that.

Matsuda can tell that you’re avoiding him on purpose, probably so there isn’t a repeat of last time. He wonders for a moment if he went too far.

No, he reminds himself. You both may be Ultimates, but you’re very different people. You are a neurologist, working in a lab and making history in the sciences. They’re an artist that… that…

Not quite sure what possesses him to do so, Matsuda feels determined to find out what it is that you do in your art room. It’ll help him better understand the differences between the two of you.

Yes, that would be the only reason.

Nothing else.

Of course.

That’s what he tells himself until he’s staring at a half-finished canvas in the art room.

Instinctually, he identifies the subject as a brain—superior view of the brain, looking down at the two halves. On the left, open surfaces of the gyri are filled with numbers and letters and shapes and equations, all added in a brilliant collage made of both magazine and newspaper clippings as well as paint. It’s orderly and precise, just like the left brain is wired to be. He notices that it’s covered with a thin layer of plastic taped to the board, likely for protection.

The other side remains empty. Blank. In-progress.

“M-Matsuda-san!”

You’ve returned to the room, a palette in hand—one with freshly-added globs of paint adorning it. He was willing to bet that you’d been preparing to finish the piece with all of that color.

He takes far too long to say something, anything, so you end up following his gaze to the palette. Your cheeks flush. “Oh. I, uh, couldn’t decide on a color scheme for the right brain yet, so I just brought them all over to compare. But you don’t care about that, right?” Before he has the chance to argue, you’re moving past him toward the canvas. “I heard that art bores you. The visit is appreciated, but you don’t have to stay. I don’t want to keep you from important things—”

Matsuda hates, he realizes, how you assume such things about him. It’s nothing against you—only disappointment in himself for not being crystal clear.

Much faster than he would care to admit, Matsuda turns and grabs you by the shoulder to stop that train of thought and clarify his affection—affection?—for you when…

For the first time, he bumps into you with too much force, and the edge of your palette catches on the canvas. The other end slips from your grip, and the entire surface lands paint side against the blank right brain.

You scramble back, aghast, as the palette remains adhered to the canvas, colors oozing out from beneath the wood.

“Shit,” he finally says. “Sorry. Sorry, that wasn’t intentional. I can… I can pay for new supplies to replace the wasted ones. I can hire someone to restore it. I can fix this.”

“No need.”

Startled by the dismissal, Matsuda simply blinks at you. “…Huh?”

You’re smiling. You’re smiling, and it does weird things to his stomach. The surprise has worn off, it seems, while you pull the palette from the canvas gingerly. “As a great man once called it, this is a… happy accident.”

Sure enough, when the palette is removed, a swirl and spattering of color is left over top of the right brain’s section. A good portion of your lining is covered, but it’s still visible enough to trace over again. All things considered, it’s an impressive visualization of the creativity of the right brain in comparison to the left, not to mention appealing on its own.

“Thank you,” you mumble, the flush on your cheeks mirroring the heat in his own when he realizes he’d been saying all of that aloud. “But I should be giving you at least some of the credit. I-If you want it, that is. I know art’s boring to you.”

The faintest of smiles pulls at his lips without permission. “…I’m beginning to see the appeal.”

[camgirlsurvivalguide]

Get Off Your Ass and Start Shaking It

Tough love for creators who need a push

I need to get my head out of my ass and start believing in myself again, so I’m writing this for myself - but sharing it for anyone who might benefit from seeing it. Enjoy a little slap from yours truly - free of charge. 

1. Accept that you’re starting from “scratch”.

The internet is different now. Sex work is different now. If you’re an OG, it’s important to recognize that burnout isn’t just OnlyFans burnout - it’s industry burnout. We didn’t get a chance to catch our breath between having had ManyVids and MFC and then OnlyFans and now the biggest bitch of them all, visibility on social media. Our tweets used to show up and now they don’t. Our followers used to see us on Instagram, and now they don’t. We can cry about this all we like (and I do so frequently because it’s more healthy than just bottling it all up), but tears won’t pay the bills, baby. Time to pull up your socks and get moving. 

2. Do your best not to overthink it.

There are a million and one theories on how to do things “right”, when in reality, sometimes a single Reel about absolutely nothing with zero effort involved will hit the algorithm and pop the fuck off. Strategizing can be good, but staying up to date with the theories surrounding advertising should be inspiring, not crippling. We’re doing away with creation paralysis. Brush yourself off, and focus on making content to the best of your ability. Who cares if it’s only selfies and low effort shit for now? People will pay for pretty much anything, and if you have any semblance of a following, they want to see what you put out even if it’s not “to your standards”.

3. Switch up your routine.

This sounds brutal because it is, but this is what I’ve been doing as of late: and it’s helping. You’ll come up with justifiable reasons why this may not be right for you - but ask yourself if what you’re doing right now is right for you. Are you achieving what you want to achieve with the routine you have? Do you even have a routine? This is tough love, but it’s meant to be a realistic look at where you’re at, followed by support to get you to where you want to be. 

A month ago I started plugging my phone in across the room and setting an alarm for 5:30am. I have to physically get up to turn it off. It’s a brutal way of waking up (even though the alarm I have is all peaceful and cute, but still) - but it gets me up. I have my robe and slippers waiting for me, and I do not allow myself to get back into bed. I do my best work in the morning after coffee and before my first meal of the day. I’m not saying you need to work with this timeline, but if you’re a sleep-until-nooner, set your alarm for 10am. If you’re a work-later-on, set an alarm for when you need to start work - and then get your ass up. It’s hard to build a routine but much easier to maintain it once the habits are in place, so have a little faith in yourself. I don’t care how many times I’ve started, hit the ground running, and then crashed and burned, because guess what happened while I was running? I made money. Focus more on the positives of when you are functional, rather than moaning about the times when you’re not. If you’re in this industry it means you have, at some point or another, made it work for you. You can do it again. 

I get out of bed at 5:30am, rinse off in the shower, make my coffee and do a beauty routine that makes me feel really fucking pretty. Sure, messy hair and an instagram filter can do just fine, and again - any content is better than no content - but I feel my best after dry brushing my skin (hello cellulite and the obvious signs of ageing, lol) and then applying a really nice smelling lotion all over my body. I have been listening to Ariana Grande instead of my usual lofi (or just fucking silence, which also isn’t great for my motivation levels). Pump yourself the fuck up. You’re a bad bitch under the weight of all of this self imposed pressure and comparison, you just need to wake that energy up again, and you can do it. Take your meds and drink your water. After coffee I’m in my most positive state to work through my inbox. Yeah, a neglected inbox on OnlyFans is going to take a hot fucking minute to get through but once you actually do it, it’ll be easier moving forward. Buck up, baby - you can do hard things, and the payoff will be worth it. 

Setting actual times to get shit done is helping me immensely. I work on OnlyFans until noon. At noon, my second alarm goes off and I get up and eat and stretch and do something other than look at my phone. Most importantly: PAT YOURSELF ON THE FUCKING BACK! If you’ve done something more than you did the day before or the week before or the month before, you’re moving. You’re going. You’re doing. Our nasty little brains can always tell us we could be making more of ourselves but you know what, fuck that shit. Focus on doing 1% more than you did the day before. Rome wasn’t built in a day and again: you’re starting fresh from this moment forward. Kick the shit out of that voice in your head that wants to compare you to other people or, worse, compare you to what you “used to be able to do”. Fuck it, whatever, we are where we are - all we can do is work with that and make the most of it. 

4. Schedule, schedule, schedule

Instagram allows you to schedule posts. If you do your makeup to shoot for OnlyFans, make two or three reels. Schedule them to post over the next few days. If you manage to shoot a few photos for OnlyFans, make a semi-SFW one and queue that up as well. Places like TweetDeck will allow you to even schedule Twitter posts in advance. Pound an energy drink (or take your meds, if you need that extra focus as I know many of us do) and get ‘er done. That way you can focus on working for shit down the line rather than trying to do everything day by day. OnlyFans lets you queue, so utilize it! Setting aside even one day to sit in your grubby sweatpants and just hammer out scheduling can be so fucking advantageous not only to building your success, but to strengthening your confidence and mental health.

I’m not going to blatantly call justifiable reasons excuses, but sometimes you need to really look at what your internal monologue is saying and whether or not it’s advantageous. If you’re depressed as shit, there are so many strategies out there to get you moving even while you’re depressed. If you’re ADHD or neurodivergent, there are strategies for you, too. The playing field is not level and if you’re starting from a rough point in your life, working will be really hard - but what’s the alternative? Not working, and making it even harder? I know you know this already, but you’re probably using this knowledge to beat yourself senseless. Stop. Even for one day, actively shout (out loud or into a pillow, whatever) at the nasty voice in your head that tells you that you’re too limited by your current position to crawl out of the hole you feel like you’re in. You can handle a scheduling day. Tell yourself, over and over again, that you can handle it. Even if you take breaks every hour to screech like a banshee or cry onto your keyboard, you can push through it. Send it. I believe in you in the same way I push myself to believe in myself. It’s not easy for any of us - but nothing ever is. 

This isn’t bullshit coming from someone who’s doing well. I struggle so, so much. This shit is a grind for me, too. I berate myself and compare myself and am so fucking self critical that it can be immobilizing - but I have to smack some sense into myself once in a while and remind myself that I can grind even when I feel like I can’t. Sometimes I lean into being outright delusional. I love lucky girl syndrome. Shove your head into the clouds and pretend that you’re the absolute best version of yourself, even if you feel like absolute dogshit. The vibes may not last long, but if they last long enough for you to make something happen, then you’re pulling off that 1% improvement that you’re striving for. 

5. Plan for breaks

Give yourself a light at the end of the tunnel, whether it’s relaxing at the end of the day or planning a “do absolutely nothing but lay around” day at the end of the week. As much as it may feel like you’re staring into an abysmal black hole demanding you to do more and more forever and ever, you’re not. You can hustle while taking breaks: in fact, you need to take breaks to make the hustle happen. Just be cautious not to let the downtime turn into a downturn. I put a limit on my rest periods because I am prone to lying face down and just … not getting back up, for weeks or months on end. Saturdays are my sleep in days. Sundays are my do nothing (except for a lil chores or whatever) days. Then I’m back to the grindstone on Monday, knowing that after my “end work day” alarm goes off, I can simply vibe out. 

6. Stop looking at the numbers for now

Analytics are great, but also … not great. Story only got 500 views even though you have thousands of followers? It’s still 500 views. Reel didn’t hit the explore page? Whatever, at least a few people saw it. Recent PPV only sold once? It’s more money than you had before you released it. The best way to handle the restart period is to just focus on output and let any number motivate you to keep on keeping on. Everyone started somewhere. The biggest accounts started at 0 followers and the most successful OnlyFans pages started at 0 subscribers. You started from nothing, too. 

7. Revisit your dreams

Do not stop yourself from dreaming big. What do you want? You can have it. Setbacks are setbacks, not finish lines. A break is a break, not an end. Write your dreams out and put them somewhere you can see them and fucking CELEBRATE every step you take toward them. If you need to start small to feel good about yourself, then do that. If your goal is to post once a week, push yourself to make that happen. If your goal is to make a certain amount of money in a week, do what you need to do to make that happen, whether it’s more posts, more messaging or more advertising. I like to set my goals small but keep my dreams big. I want to buy a condo, which is a big dream, but in order to do that, achieving all my little goals will put me closer to that every time I cross it off my “to do” list. 

8. Fucking believe in yourself, goddamnit

You can do it. You can do it. You CAN do it. Do what you need to do, as your unique and individual little self, to put the systems that support you in place. Trust that you can rely on yourself. Even if that trust is frail for now, it will build as you build yourself up. Berating yourself isn’t helping, is it? I didn’t think so. You’re beautiful, interesting, worthy and so fucking capable, even on days where you think you aren’t. We’re in this together.