#ill ease myself in by doing some of it friday and then having the entire weekend off to recover lmao

[truthundressing]

my obsession w deciding to give myself an "offday" the evening before is gonna catch up w me very very soon

[seriouslysnape]

Under the Weather

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Sickness. 

Word Count: 1,518

“I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

Harry felt bad. Correction: Harry felt terrible. He watched as you crawled into your bed with sunken eyes and a nasty sounding cough. He wouldn’t ever say this out loud, but you didn’t look so good at all. It was all his fault that you were sick, and he wouldn’t let himself forget it anytime soon.

He had just recovered from possibly the worst case of the flu that he had ever fallen ill with. It had knocked him on his ass for a week due to the fatigue, coughing, fever, and body aches. Pomfrey had done all she could to try to make him comfortable enough, but the strain was just a bit more than her remedies could fix this time around. He was stuck in bed with nothing to do but roll around in his sickness and complain about how bad he felt. 

In the end, Harry was able to recover swiftly and without any real problems. Before too long, he was as good as new thanks to your help. You had taken extra good care of him by keeping him cool from the fever but warm from the chills. You made sure he was eating, even if it was just chicken and soup everyday. You made sure he was hydrated and getting plenty of rest to ensure his recovery...which also included lots of snuggles and kisses.

It turned out that those snuggles and kisses were rather sickly ones, and about the time that Harry was fully feeling better, you had begun to feel crummy. Harry actually noticed it before you did. It was extremely rare for you to sleep later than him. You almost always were up and going before him, but on particular Friday morning, you were still knocked out when he woke up. Not only that, you were unusually warm and ill looking. He had pressed the back of his hand to your head, feeling a pit of guilt when he realized that you definitely were running a fever.

He had woken you up, feeling even worse when you began to cough. He had practically jumped out of your bed, wrapping you up and doing whatever he could to make you comfortable. You had all the same symptoms that he did, and you were guaranteed to be in for a long week. He had insisted that he take another week off from classes to watch over you, but he was already a week behind, and there was no chance that you were letting him fall back more on your account.

He went through all of his classes in a haze of worry. He knew that he had undoubtedly gotten you sick. There was no way that you could’ve gotten it from anyone else. He didn’t even stop in the common room after his classes, going straight back to your dorm where he had left you. When he did walk into your room, you were standing at your trunk, looking weak and drained. You would’ve thought that you had tried to mouth off to Professor Snape by the way Harry reacted.

“What are you doing?!” He shrieked, closing your door and rushing to you.

You threw your hands up in defense, sniffling more drainage out of your nasal passageway.

“What? I’m getting changed. I was in the same pajamas from last night and I felt gross,” You explained with a congested tone, not seeing the big deal, “I’m fine, Harry.”

He ruffled your hair when he noticed it was damp. His face fell into even more horror.

“Did you shower?” He asked as if it were a crime.

“Uh, yes?” You replied nonchalantly.

“But you’re sick! You could’ve...I don’t know! You could’ve fainted or sneezed so hard that you fell or-”

“Harry, I’m not dying. It’s just the flu.” You argued, giggling at his dramatic act.

That sealed the deal. He was dedicating his entire weekend to make sure you were at least on the road to recovery by Monday if you weren’t going to “take care” of yourself.

“Get in bed, you mad woman! What are you doing up?!” He shrilled again, ushering you to your bed again.

That was when you returned to bed to put HIM at ease, looking and sounding just plain awful. That was also when he REALLY started to feel guilty for your current state. He rushed around the room, setting things up the way you had in his when he had been sick. He layered blankets onto your bed, turned on some soft music, made sure the windows were closed to make sure you didn’t catch a cold draft. The only difference was that you had spoken to him in sweet, calm tones. Harry was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“Are you warm enough, my love?” Harry asked, adding yet another blanket on top of you, rushing to your desk on the other side of the room.

“Yes, Harry. I told you that I’m fin-”

“Do you want a book? Or maybe I can sneak into the kitchen and bring you a snack?” Harry rattled off, barely letting you get a word in.

“No, angel. I don’t want-”

“I promise I don’t mind! The castle is pretty quiet this time of night and Filch is easy to sneak around and-”

“Harry!” You finally croaked out through your already hoarse voice, “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” 

Harry’s demeanor softened. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowed. He was getting himself worked up over nothing, and panicking wasn’t going to solve anything at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” He said, sitting on the edge of your bed, “I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

You shrugged under the pile of covers, giving him a feeble grin. 

“I’m okay. I don’t feel that bad. Just a little under the weather I guess.” You brushed it off.

Harry smiled softly with an even gentler laugh. You certainly didn’t look “a little under the weather”. He had been much more difficult when he was sick. He kicked the sheets off of his body and complained that it was too hot, and then hissed that it was too cold each time he got a new chill. He whined when he had to keep changing clothes because the sweating from his fever dampened his pajamas. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content, even in your ill state. 

“If you say so. Can I squeeze in with you, darling?” He queried, wanting to hold you close in your bed.

“I don’t want you to get sick again. You’re already behind.” You shook your head.

“I don’t care about that. I just want to be with you, my pretty girl.” Harry bantered.

He knew you hated missing school, and you were sure to miss at least a week. The thought of you having to spend the next several days cooped up in your dorm made him feel awful. Worst of all, you weren’t your normal, healthy self and it was all because of him. He wanted you to be happy and at your best at all times, because seeing you happy made him happy. 

“[Y/N], baby, I’m sorry I got you sick. I shouldn’t have let you get so close to me and love up on me. If I had known it was so contagious I would’ve taken care of myself.” Harry apologized, his eyes lowering, finding your hand under all the sheets and giving it a caring caress. 

“It’s not your fault. I wanted to take care of you. I always want to...love up on you,” You remarked, laughing at his previous choice of wording, “I couldn’t let you be sick and not do anything. I care about you.”

Harry’s eyes found yours again, his lips upturning into a wide smile as he looked at your lovingly.

“You really love me that much, huh?” He questioned, bringing your clammy palm to his lips for a ginger kiss.

“That much and more,” You returned with a smirk, “Now shut up and get in bed with me. I need cuddles.”

Harry leapt up from the side of the bed, rushing to the empty, opposite side.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, crawling in and pulling you flush to his chest.

He winced at how warm you still were, but he was sure that the fever would subside with time. Harry’s paranoia had subsided almost completely, but he still kept a hand on your back to make sure you were breathing...just in case. He’d cater to your every need to make sure you’d be better soon. You’d be back to normal in no time with Harry Potter as your caretaker.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Harry. I really appreciate it.” You sniffed, beginning to feel drowsy as your body fought off the horrid sickness.

Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you safe and comfortable in his arms. It was something he would do until forever ran out...with or without a bad case of the flu.

“I’ll always take care of you. No matter what.”

******

Tags: @writingscape @lupinsslut @msmimimerton @thefilmcity

[alittleoptimistic]

Object Impermanence

A short (horror?) story by me for no reason other than ive been listening to the magnus archives and thinking about how it’s nice to sit on the ground and exist.

__________________________________

Summer of 2004, I’d just quit smoking. I remember because I was pissed off for no reason all the time, and I packed more gum than I packed food. My entire backpack smelled like awful, sweet, artificial grape flavoring.

My little sister is home and she’s been hiking with those rich friends of hers and she’s like, ‘lets go hiking on the weekend.’ I’m all, do I look like I go hiking? But whatever, she was just gonna leave by herself if I didn’t go, and what did I have going on anyway? We were going to leave Friday, hike up the mountain, stopping at various lookout points to camp until we reached the top, and then we’d come home by Monday morning.

It started off fine. My feet hurt by the end of the first day. I was wearing sneakers cause that was all I had, and I couldn’t even complain about it because Sara, that's my sister, said that would happen if I wore them, and I told her to buzz off. It was just the two of us, wandering up a mountain. It smelled clean and sharp. The air was cool, almost too cool for the lungs, and I didn’t say how much I was actually enjoying myself. Yeah, there were mosquitos, and the undergrowth left scratches on my ankles, and Sara laughed at me when I struggled. She had a nice laugh, tough, kind and genuine. But it was all worth it when we reached a peak.

One of the first lookout points sat above the valley. It was a flat, stone outcropping. We dangled our legs over the edge. We ate our sandwiches and sunned on the rock like lizards. It was the first time in a long time I’d truly felt… solid. I was so used to this screaming, crashing in my head. I had too many tabs open at once, and I barely looked at any of them. And now I was just a creature, laying against my backpack in the sun, feeling the clouds pass over. It was good that way. People would be a lot nicer if they just shut their mouths and lay on the ground more often.

I heard Sara get up, but I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I was sort of asleep, and the weight of my body had settled into my limbs. I might have melted into the rock and been content there. It wasn’t until a cold wind swept hair into my eyes that I finally squinted and sat up, groggy from my half-sleep.

Sara was gone, her pink ‘rucksack’ (that was what it was called, according to Sara) abandoned a few feet away from me. I had gravel pressed into the palms of my hands, and I brushed it off as I looked around for her. Something settled into my stomach, a deep ill-ease I couldn’t quite shake. Her boots lay next to the backpack, socks sticking out of the top like little white tongues. Thinking back, I wasn’t really worried. If she’d left her shoes, she couldn’t have gone far.

I looked for her, grumbling. The forest here was made up of tall pines, and not much undergrowth anymore, so I should have been able to see her with relative ease, but when I stepped back into the forest, I saw no one. My steps made no noise on the pine needles. The trees swayed.

I called out her name and heard nothing in reply. Actually, to be honest, I heard nothing at all. No wind, no twittering birds, no crunching leaves. Have you ever heard of those rooms that suck the sound out of them? I had a buddy in high school who used to make music, and he rented a soundproof room to record. I went with him one time, mostly because his sister was really cool, and I’d reasoned she might be there (she wasn’t). The point is, the forest felt like that room. My voice died as soon as it left my lips, right in front of me. In the quietest soundproof rooms, they say you start to hear your own heartbeat, the sound of your digestive system, your pumping blood. Spending too long inside a room like that can drive you mad. I kept thinking about that; about soundproof rooms, and about how I didn’t know what my own body sounded like, not really. How can you live in a body its entire life, and not know everything about it? Do bones make noise when they move? The firing of nerves, do they make a sound? I had no idea. But right then, I felt that if I stayed here long enough, I would find out.

I wanted a cigarette.

A twig snapped behind me. I whipped around. I wasn’t sure what had me so tightly strung. There wasn’t anything to be frightened of. Not really. It was Sara. Of course, it was Sara. She’d pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail, and she gave me an odd look, like I was being weird, and she asked if I was okay. I told her, yeah, I was fine, where did she go?

Sara shrugged and walked back to the lookout without answering the question. I guess that was the first sign that things weren’t alright, but I didn’t pick up on it at the time. I was distracted by the quiet and soundproof rooms and my own hammering heartbeat.

We kept on up the mountain as the day stretched. My backpack dug into my shoulders and neck as I followed behind Sara and her hot pink rucksack.

At some point, I looked at my watch, only to realize it was gone. I’d never owned a wristwatch. Except, I had. I got it for myself as a treat after I managed to keep my job as a waiter at Sonic for a month. I couldn’t skate for the life of me, but they kept me on. I tried once. Skating, I mean. The experience was so beyond embarrassing I refused point-blank to do it on the job again. Have you ever had orange soda spilled on your crotch before? I had to walk around for the rest of the shift with this massive sticky stain down the front of me like I was a two year old with a melted popsicle. Disgusting. The manager on duty thought it was hilarious. It was, I guess. You have to find humor in jobs like that or else you won’t get through the day. I’m getting off-topic again. I bought myself a wristwatch from Walmart after the first month of working there because I could.

And now I didn’t have the watch. I’d… well, I thought I possibly could have just left it behind. But now that I thought about it, I couldn’t picture the watch in my head. Had I bought the watch, or did I just think about buying the watch? Either way, I didn’t know what time it was. We’d been walking for hours at this point, long enough that I’d gone through two whole packs of gum. My stomach growled. I told Sara we should stop, citing the setting sun.

Not pausing, Sara told me it wasn’t much farther. That was it.

I pressed the issue. I complained about how hungry I was, how my feet hurt, how I needed to sit down.

“It’s not much farther,” she said again.

Up to this time, I didn’t think anything was wrong. I was just irritated she was being so stubborn. I told her if she didn’t stop I was going to sit down, and she could go up by herself. I’m not exactly an athletic guy, you see? I never have been. In middle school, kids called me Scrawny Shawny. They weren’t wrong. Mom used to resew my pants because the store never had pants with the right sized waist and length. They were always too short with a waist that fit fine, or long enough with too large of a waist. I wasn’t as skinny as I was at thirteen, but smoking hadn’t helped me gain any weight, and I sure wasn’t used to hiking for hours on end.

I told her I was stopping to sit and eat something. I wasn’t getting bossed around by my baby sister. Sara was already a good distance ahead of me, up a slight hill in the trail. She stopped at the top. From that incline, I noticed the first really weird thing. She was barefoot.

Had she not put her shoes back on? How long had she been walking without shoes? And how? The trail was filled with sharp, sand-stone gravel. The trail wound around tree roots, and boulders. I’d stubbed my toe already from inside my shoe.

I called out to her. Where were her shoes? Was she stupid? What was she thinking?

She looked down at her feet, as if noticing them for the first time.

Then, smoothly, she twisted her neck to look at me. Her face was blank. But that could have been that she was too far away for me to see clearly. I told her to stop messing around and come eat a snack.

“It’s not much farther,” she said.

I felt that twist in my stomach again, a tightness in my lungs that wasn’t from the exercise or the thinning air. Her tone was flat, dull, like… this might not make sense, but like soft wood hitting soft wood. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. I heard her clearly, but the sound wasn’t traveling? It hung in the air for a second before dropping into the dirt.

I had my backpack in my hands, and I realized I was clutching it, my nails digging into my palms. Sweat coated my back from the hike, but I was getting cold.

All at once, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

Also, I hadn’t brought any snacks. I hazily unzipped my backpack, eyes still on my sister, who stared at me but didn’t turn around. When I opened the backpack, the smell of grape candy wafted up to meet me. But there were no snacks inside. No trail mix. No cans of beans. No dried fruit. No energy bars. And you’ll remember I said before, I hadn’t packed much food, but I definitely packed some. Had I eaten it all already? It was only Saturday. Or was it Sunday? I couldn’t remember.

Had I never packed any at all? I asked Sara if she’d taken my snacks. She said, “We don’t need a snack yet. It’s only a little farther.”

I gave in then. I’m not sure why, really. Something in me knew she wasn’t going to let me rest. I walked until I was a few steps behind her. She twisted forward again. And then Sara kept going. Up the mountain.

The sun should have set eventually. But it didn’t. That’s the thing. It stayed half set, not quite gone, but clearly not totally in the sky, for… I don’t know how long. Because it was halfway like that, I couldn't tell if I was imagining it or not. I couldn’t tell if it was moving. The shadows stretched like taffy, and the light was golden. We walked through this striped forest of light up the mountain. My stubbed toe was bleeding. I could feel the stickiness and warmth in my sock. Sara’s feet were bloody too, but she didn’t seem to notice. If anything, she walked faster the longer we went. I didn’t dare say anything. Everytime I tried to make an excuse to stop, I’d suddenly realize that excuse did not exist.

I told her we needed to set up camp.

We did not have tents. We would sleep beneath the stars, when they finally came.

I was thirsty.

We did not have water bottles. We’d planned to drink from the streams.

I told her my shoes were breaking.

I wore hiking boots. Of course they weren’t breaking. My toe was still bleeding, however, and that was the only thing that kept me certain that I had been wearing sneakers before.

A particular strain of fear settled in my gut, a familiar feeling I had not laid claim on in a long time. I used to be terrified of losing things when I was a kid. I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving something behind. I forgot a stuffed animal at a playground once when we were on a road trip. It was a little green bear named Ugly. I left him inside the jungle gym of a grubby Mcdonald's play area somewhere in the middle of Utah. It put this gaping hole in me, a seemingly un-proportionate terror I couldn’t escape. I was five, and I could not keep everything safe with me forever. When I closed my eyes, there was absolutely nothing making sure the world would be there when I opened them again. Worse, perhaps nothing was there when I wasn’t looking at it. At a certain point, you grow out of fears like this because you learn, logically, that there is something holding the universe together. You are not so important that your gaze keeps the world spinning. So I hadn’t felt that fear in a long time.

Walking up that mountain, the fear came rushing back to me in waves. Everything was unravelling under my fingertips, twisting into something else. If I didn’t look at it, it could disappear any second. I didn’t have a backpack anymore. I never had. Sara’s pink rucksack bounced ahead of me, mocking me. It was a rucksack, so it couldn’t be smug, but it was. I felt its zippers and rings and straps all straining and stretching and grinning at me. It was huge, bulging at the seams, certainly bloated with all of the things I lost.

Barefoot, I stumbled over a tree root and tried to catch myself on a tree, but my hand sunk into the wood like soggy parchment. It was rotting away, hollow, not really a tree at all. I jerked back and hurried onward. I couldn’t stop. Something horrible would happen if I stopped. We kept going, and the trees loomed above, taller than they were before. They leered at me, bent in so I could hardly make out the fading light of the sky above. Stretched high into eternity, the mountain would never end. The trail became gradually steeper, slowly enough that I did not notice until we climbed hand over hand up the face of the rocks. Pine needles rained down on me from Sara’s movements above.

As we climbed, I asked one last time, how much farther we had to go.

The silence gripped me. It stole the breath from my lungs. This was what it was like to be in space, where sound waves could not travel. I was stuck breathing sawdust and mud and wood shavings. If you’d like to know, bones do make noise when they move. Mostly when the joints bend. There are soft crackles, popping bubbles, and a wet scrape like a fingernail against a mud covered stone.

Sara paused.

Her head twisted toward me. Her neck should not have been able to turn that far, but everything was just so slightly off that this final thing did not shock me as much as it might have in other circumstances. I stood frozen in mute horror, not daring to touch the trees for support, but barely able to keep my grip. I swiped sweat out of my eyes and tears too, I think. I’d started crying. How long had I been crying?

Sara smiled too wide. Her eyes were too large and they glistened a dull, sickly yellow. Her smile held too many perfect teeth packed inside and her fingers were too long. This thing, whatever this thing was, was not my sister. In fact, I had never had a little sister.

There was just me. I was just me, climbing a mountain into the sky, and I had never been anything, or done anything else. The grit under my fingers, the rough stone under my feet, the salty sweat I tasted on my lips, these were the only things I knew. I would not know them for long, because when I stopped thinking about them, they would no longer exist.

“I think it’s time for a snack,” the twisted thing said.

I wanted to weep in relief. Maybe I did. I couldn’t let go of my hold on the stones and the roots on the path or I would fall, so I did not move. The twisted thing started toward me. It’s limbs moved in a jagged way, like a video played in reverse, as it climbed back. I reached out a shaking hand, hoping for some assistance, some food, some water. Something.

But as the twisted creature reached its long fingered hand to me, its mouth wide and grinning, a jolt went through my skull like I’d been kicked. Before it could touch me, I pulled away. This creature would not give me anything. It could not. I knew what I had to do the moment that clarity passed through me.

I stared up into the eyes of a poor imitation of my sister, and I hoped Sara escaped somehow. I doubted it. After all, I didn’t have a sister.

The creature must have sensed my intentions because it snarled and leapt down to grab me. However, I was too quick. I had myself. I had my body and I had my bones. They existed still. Even if they had not, I existed. And I was not sure it could take that. What was a person anyhow, that they can be taken?

My fingers. Even now, I had fingers. They loosened their grip. That was all it took. I plunged downward through the whistling wind. And finally, the sun set. Or perhaps, I just could no longer see it. I fell and I continued to fall, solace flowing across my skin like a balm. There was nothing around me but darkness. The forest was no longer there. It had been, but my eyes were closed, and the illusion did not need to continue. My heart ached.

Then I realized, I could hear the whistling wind. I could feel the coolness of the night. There it was, the sickly sweet smell of grape flavoring. It flowed through the wind. I smiled with lips I still owned.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

A Silent Refuge

Summary: While having a 'spider-sense' can come in handy, it can also be a hindrance. Especially when the constant hum keeps you awake at night. Peter learns that there is one place he can go that feels safe enough to silence his heightened awareness and it's where Tony is.

Warnings: none

Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark and May Parker Co-Parenting Peter Parker, Tired Peter Parker, Fluff ... ...

Word Count: 3653

Link to Post on AO3: A Silent Refuge- happyaspie

    Tony woke up entirely too early in the morning to his phone instantly vibrating on the table beside his bed.  When it finally went quiet he sighed and tried to go back to sleep only to have it start up again immediately after.  With a groan, he haphazardly felt around on the table until he had the offending device in his hand and then fumbled to answer it without ever looking to see who was calling.  There was only a short list of people who could reach him through the one line that didn't go through FRIDAY and if they felt the need to call him twice in rapid succession, then he figured it must be at least somewhat important.  "What's up?"

  "Is Peter with you?", the voice on the other line asked and it took Tony longer than it should have to figure out who was talking to him.  In fact, he had to pull the phone away from his ear and glance down at the name before it clicked and his sleep-rattled brain slowly started to work things out.  It was May and she was asking him about the kid.  Pete.  Peter.  She thought Peter was with him?

  "No.  Why would be he be with me?", he asked with confusion.  It was way too early on a... whatever day it was for the kid to be with him.

  "I don't know!", May clipped and Tony was suddenly awake enough to register how distressed she sounded.  "I went into his room this morning to make sure he was getting up for school and he wasn't there.  There's no note, he's not answering his phone and he's not with Ned, so I was hoping that you had him.", she asked, her voice sounding more and more perturbed the longer she spoke.

  "May... I would never come to collect your kid in the middle of the night without saying something.  I'm not that irresponsible.", Tony said as he sat up and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes.  Then he remembered that at one time he's lied to the woman and hauled her nephew out of the country without her knowledge and gave in a little.   "Okay, maybe I am but I didn't.  He's not with me.  Let me pull up the suit stats.  Maybe he got up before you and went out for an early morning swing.", he said with an exhausted sigh but May didn't seem to think that was the case being as she was once again huffing in his ear.

  "You don't understand.  He's not answering his phone, Tony.  Oh, god what if he's hurt?", she said with growing anxiety that was starting to send ripples of worry through Tony as well.  Especially when the console he used to monitor the Spider-suit came up blank.

  "The suits not active.", he stated not quite masking his own concern.  "Jesus.  Okay.", he started as he ran his hands down his face and let out a deep breath.  "Okay, I'm going to have FRIDAY track his last location and check the surveillance.  I'll let you know when I find something.  You just hang tight in case he returns home."  

  "Please, just find my kid.", May returned without missing a beat.

  "I'll find him.", Tony assured ahead of abruptly ending the call.  A thousand thoughts were running through his mind as he stepped into a pair of sweat pants.  It was times like these that he was thankful for his AI assistant.  He didn't have to waste any time.  She could get started while he finished throwing a shirt over his head and made his way to the lab.  "FRIDAY?  Pull up the Spider-suit's tracker and pinpoint its last coordinates for me, will you dear?"

  Not even two seconds passed before the AI was dutifully responding with the information that he'd requested  "The last known location was recorded at one-thirty-two in the morning.  I'm sending you the coordinates to you now."

  Tony felt his watch twitch and looked down at the location expecting to see it somewhere in Queens.  Maybe even in the kid's closet but that wasn't the case and he brought his brows together with perplexity.  "That's a block from the Tower.  What on Earth was he doing there?", he rhetorically questioned but the AI responded anyway.

  "I believe he was using the suit as a means of transportation.", FRIDAY replied and Tony rolled his eyes.

  "He usually does.", Tony said with mild frustration as he too tried to dial Peter's number only to be sent straight to voicemail.  The kid never had his phone turned off and that sent his lingering worry over the edge causing unfavorable thoughts to flow endlessly through his head.  "I swear, if it wasn't frowned upon by every single government agency on the planet, I would put a tracker in back of the kid's neck.", he said through his teeth.

  "That would be a human rights violation at best, Boss.", the AI chimed in, only adding to Tony's annoyance.

  "Thanks, dear but I'd already figured that out for myself.", he acknowledged while simultaneously opening up all of the screens in front of him.  "Pull up the surveillance footage and let's see if we can figure out what our resident spiderling was up to.  Hopefully not getting kidnapped because it is way too early in the morning to deal with anything like that.", he said in an attempt to keep things light but in reality that was his number one fear at the moment.  That the kid had snuck off and then gotten captured.   There were people out there that would love to get their hands on Spider-man.  Then just as he was starting to spiral, FRIDAY spoke up and eased the panic.

  "Mr. Parker was not kidnapped.", the AI informed causing Tony's nack to snap up from where he's been staring at the floor.  FRIDAY wasn't programmed to lie under any circumstances and that meant that she'd already been able to deduce something he just didn't know what and even though no more than half a second had passed he was already beyond aggravated at the lack of instant explanation.

  "Is there something you're not telling me because I'm starting to get a little anxious here.", he snapped.  "If you know something that I don't, now would be an excellent time for you to fill me in."

  "Mr. Parker entered the building at one-forty-two via the furthermost window of your private lab and has been asleep on the couch in the corner ever since.  Would you like me to wake him?"

  Tony's brain completely stalled at the information.  He felt swindled.  Outraged.  The kid was currently occupying the very room he was sitting in.  Granted it was a large room and the couch was in the furthest corner but the fact that he'd not been informed was maddening.  "I'm sorry, Did you just tell me that the kid has been back there for the last...", He glanced down at his watch, "...six and a half hours and you just now decided to tell me?"

  "Mr. Parker has full access to your private lab and requested that I not--", FRIDAY began to designate but Tony wasn't interested in the AI's miscalculated reasoning.  Just because the kid had access to the lab didn't mean he wanted him to come and go without notice.  JARVIS would have inferred that on his own.  He was intuitive, could practically read his mind and-- he didn't have time to think about that as another notion invaded his thought process.

  "--Wait, he's not hurt is he?", he asked, his heart beginning to palpitate in his chest as he awaited the answer.

  "No injuries or illnesses were detected upon his arrival.  Other than some minor sleep deprivation, Mr. Parker seems to be in excellent health.", FRIDAY said and Tony ran his hands through his hair and took several deep breaths.  Once his heart had gone back to a more normal rhythm he stood up and began to weave through the various machines as he made his way towards the far end of the sprawling workshop where, sure enough, Peter was laying there completely knocked out.

  For several seconds, Tony watched the boy's chest rise and fall in a soothing manner.  He had one arm tucked under his head as a pillow and the other dangling over the side, his fingers brushing the floor while both knees were pulled up towards his chest.  It didn't look overly comfortable but the kid's slack features seemed to say otherwise.  He almost hated to wake him.  Then he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.  It was May.  A quick text to inform her that her nephew was alive, well and in his care, he leaned over to shake Peter awake.  "Time to rise and shine, Spiderling.", he said just loud enough to cause the teenager to stir.

  "Mr. Stark?", Peter slurred as he opened his eyes. 

  "In the flesh.", Tony returned with a fond smile.  Even with a little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth, the kid looked sort of cute, laying there with his hair sticking up as it was.  "What are you doing here, kiddo?  Not that I don't enjoy your company but it's a school day and your aunt was kind of freaking out.", he said making the teenager shoot up into a sitting position so fast that it made his own head swim.

  "Shoot!  I overslept.  I need to call her!", Peter said as he hurriedly pulled his phone out of his pocket only to realize that it was dead.  "Shoot! She's going to kill me."

  Smiling at the early morning dramatics, Tony sat himself down beside the stressed-out looking teenager and patted him on the knee.  "I've already let her know that your safe and with me.", he and then paused as the softness he'd been feeling started to fade into minor irritation.  Mostly because his pocket was still buzzing with was no doubt, numerous questions form May.  Questions he couldn't yet answer.  "You know, after adamantly insisting that you weren't with me when she called this morning.  So, how about we backtrack to my first question.  What are you doing here?"

  "Sleeping?", Peter apprehensively responded.  

  "Okay...", Tony said with a quirk of his eyebrow.  "Is there something wrong with your own bed?"

  "No, but...", Peter began to but then found himself unable to locate the words necessary to explain any further.  Partially because he wasn't sure he wanted to.  Being caught had not been a part of his plan but Tony was looking at him with rapt anticipation and he knew he had to say something. "It's kind of hard to explain?"

  "Well, I'm going to need you to give it the good ole college try because you showing up in my lab unannounced before dawn is worrisome.", Tony countered with seriousness and gave a curt nod of his head.  "Which reminds me.  FRIDAY?  New rule.  Anytime the kid enters or exits the building I want a heads up.  Every time.  No matter what. We'll call it the Baby Gate Protocol.", he added with a smirk, fully aware of how much the kid would hate the diminutive name. 

  With a deep sigh, Peter looked down at the floor where he'd kicked his shoes off upon his arrival. He was already resigning himself to the fact that he would never be able to stealthily enter the building by any means ever again  FRIDAY would no longer comply with his request to remain unattended.  "That's not really necessary, Mr. Stark.", he tried.

  "Apparently it is considering I spent the last fifteen minutes tracking your location only to find out that, surprise!...  you were literally across the room from me the whole time.", Tony said in exasperation.  "Inept and uninformed is not a good look on me.  So, forgive me for preventing it from happening again... and for the third time.", he pressed, "Why are you here?"

  "I can't sleep at home.", Peter answered in defeat.  "I mean I can but it's, it's hard and I was so tired and my spider-sense wouldn't shut up so, so I came here.", he quietly explained.

  Tony looked at the kid beside him with a wrinkle of concern etched across his brow.  "Doesn't your spider-ESP usually warn you that you're in danger", he asked because it made no sense that the kid would never leave May at risk.  He would protect her with his life.

  "Yes but no.", Peter said with a shrug of his shoulders and another sigh.  He legitimately didn't know how to expound on the subject.  Even he wasn't one-hundred percent clear on how his spider-sense worked sometimes. "It does the thing where it makes my hairs stand on end when there's an immediate threat but it's also just always there in the back of my skull.  Except it's more of a constant, quiet hum.  Just enough to keep me alert.  During the day it's fine.  I only really notice it at night anymore but sometimes there are nights where its more annoying than others and I just... can't sleep."

  Tony made sure to maintain eye contact to show that he was listening.  He had no experience with spider-induced anxiety but he certainly knew a thing or two about insomnia.  "So... you thought you would come by and mess around in the lab by yourself?", he asked dubiously by virtue of the fact that he was still unclear as to how the sleep-deprived teenager ended up on his couch.

  "No, Mr. Stark.  Just sleep.", Peter said as he chewed on his bottom. "Like do you remember last week when you had to wake me up after I fell asleep with my head on your desk?", he asked and waited for him mentor to say that he did.  "Well, I realized that day that my spider-sense is quiet when I'm here.  Like super, quiet and I think it's because it just feels really, really safe when I'm here.", he adamantly replied before wavering slightly as he weighed his next words. "I think, I think it has to do with you.  ...because when you're around, I can sleep without having to force myself to ignore that buzz.  It's like my DNA knows that you have the ability to take care of me while I rest.", he said and almost felt bad about it.  He knew May would always try to protect him too but the fact of the matter was that she was vulnerable and Tony... he was Iron Man.

  Smiling fondly, Tony wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders.  He wholly understood the levity that came with that admission.  "I'm glad you feel safe with me, Buddy.", he gently replied and after that, things grew quiet with thought.  He'd met the kid months ago and at that time the teenager had said that he'd acquired his abilities six months prior.  He wondered if something had changed or if the kid had honestly gone that long without a good night's sleep.  "You've had your powers for a while now.  How have you been dealing with that all this time?"

  "Well, that's why I would patrol so late at night.  If I exerted enough energy to become exhausted, it made it easier to sleep and I guess I just sort of got used to not getting a full night's sleep.  Then when Aunt May found out about everything and gave me a curfew it made things more difficult.  Sometimes, I'm so tired I can't think straight but all I can do is stare at the ceiling.  I knew if I came here I could sleep and I thought I set an alarm on my phone so that I could get home before your or May found out but I guess my battery died.  I didn't mean to make everyone worry.  I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark.", Peter shot back all in one continuous ramble, taking a sharp intake of air at the end.

  "Calm down, kiddo.  We know you're safe now and that's what matters the most.  We're going to have to come up with a better plan for you to get some sleep though.  I can't have you sneaking in through my windows at all hours and you should be sleeping in an actual bed and not on an old worn-out couch.", Tony said as he pulled the kid into his side could feel him instantly relax against him and sighed contentedly.  He had Pepper, Rhodey and Happy but even still, it had been an exceptionally long time since anyone had told him that they trusted him so extensively and it felt good to have someone else by his side.  "We'll talk to your Aunt.  Maybe you can stay here overnight sometimes.  At least on the weekends.", he said before thoughtfully adding, "Of course, by here, I mean in the bedroom I'm going to set up for you in the penthouse."

  "You don't have to do that, Mr. Stark.  I mean I would really appreciate being allowed to sleep there sometimes but I don't need you to give me a room or anything.  The couch is fine, I promise.", Peter replied but he couldn't entirely stop himself from smiling at the man's offer.  Being invited to spend some nights there was amazing enough without the added grandeur of knowing he would have a space set aside just for him.

  "No, It's not fine.  You need a room with a bed and I'm going to do that for you.  Now, from what I can figure, you're already late for school so, you may as well come upstairs with me while I call your aunt.  I'll make you some breakfast and then you can take a nap.", Tony said as he tried to formulate a plan for exactly how he was going to relay all of this newly acquired information to May.  Although, his thoughts were interrupted sooner than they had the chance to flow.

  "--I can't just skip school, Mr. Stark!", Peter squawked despite the fact that he had to have already missed at least one period.  

  Tony chuckled and gave the boy's shoulders a firm squeeze.  "Pete, you just sat there and told me that you haven't had a good night's sleep in months so I'm afraid that I'm going to have to insist.  I'm sure May will agree once I explain everything to her.  I'll even write you an excuse.  How about that?", he asked with a smile, though his tone didn't no margin for argument.

  Suddenly realizing how tired he still was, Peter nodded his head and yawned so wide that his eyes watered. 

  Giving an approving nod, Tony led them both upstairs where he took to the stove to make an omelet while Peter made use of the bathroom.  Then, once he had the kid settled at the kitchen table he disappeared to talk to May in the privacy of his office. It took very little persuasion to get her to agree to allow her nephew to spend a few nights a week at the tower.  Especially if it meant that he wouldn't allow himself to get so exhausted that he felt the need to sneak off in the middle of the night again and Tony couldn't have been happier with the new arrangement.  He'd not realized exactly how close he'd actually gotten to the kid until he was being faced with a near panic attack at the prospect of him having gone missing.  Consequently, he was still smiling to himself as he reentered the kitchen.

  "Everything's all set.  Your curfew had officially been extended by half an hour and May agreed that you need a day off.  She also agreed that from now on you can spend your weekends with me.", Tony said with an unwavering grin. "If you want to of course."

  "I would love that, sir.  If you're sure it's okay, I mean.", Peter said with a smile of his own, soon after hopping up to place his dishes neatly into the sink.

  "It's fine.  Better than fine, it's great.  Means I'll have you around to do all the heavy lifting in the lab those days.  My back can only take so much and the Iron Man armor isn't as comfortable as you would think.  This is an absolute win for me.", Tony flippantly replied and then gestured for the boy to follow him up the stairs. "This is my room", he said as he lay his hand on the closed door at the front of the wide hall before turning to open the door that was adjacent to it.  "...and this is going to be your room", he pointed out while watching the kid's eyes light up at the sight.  "We'll have to get you some stuff to keep here and redecorate so that it suits you but there's a bathroom, a walk-in closet and the bed should be comfortable enough."

  "This is amazing.  Thank you, Mr. Stark.", Peter replied all starry-eyed and grateful.

  "You're welcome, kid.", Tony said, chuckling at the way the teenager dramatically fall backward onto the mattress.  "Now you go ahead and get some rest.  I'll have FRIDAY will tell me when you're up and then I can drive you home.", said with some remorse.  He would have loved to have had to kid stay there for the whole day but his aunt had insisted that he needed to get home.  Though he was already looking forward to the weekend.  

  "Thank you for letting me stay, Mr. Stark.", Peter said as he peeled back the duvet and climbed under the sheet. 

  "You're more than welcome.", Tony returned as he gave in to the urge to run his fingers through the boy's hair, smiling when the kid leaned into his touch.  "Good-night, Buddy.", he whispered and then quietly slipped out of the bedroom.

[mynameseri]

They’re the sweetest! Ah that sucks you deserve a longer break! Oh that sounds awesome! It’ll look amazing and all the commissions you get are so nice to see! I’ve been fairly relaxed but the heat sucks! It’s like 90° out in winter and it’s so annoying! I jut want cold and rain. Anyways I hope you’re doing well and I’ll send in another ask for some Erigawa feeding! Sort this took days! I was going to reply yesterday then got busy and a migraine. (Ah life just loves to makes us sick doesn’t it?) I hope you’re not feeling too bad and know that you’re appreciated! You’re so sweet and amazing just remember to drink water and/or tea (organic caffeine free usually works the best) if you’re getting overwhelmed or jut escape into your head. Do something nice for yourself too and if you need to take a sick day there’s no shame in giving your body time to rest and recover from those crazy long days you work! 🌹

Time for some Erigawa! Akutagawa love it when you hold him! He can be both the little spoon or the big spoon! It depends on your preference and what mood he’s in. If he’s mad he just wants you to hold him and help him not destroy an entire city block. The man is so soft for you! He will do anything with you and loves your baking! Only yours though he won’t touch anything else. It’s kinda cute how he’ll only eat your sweets! He loves that you and Gin are friends! You get along with his sister and you’re the love of his life? He couldn’t ask for anything better! Once or twice he accidentally looses his temper about some mafia thing and breaks a car or more but he apologizes and really works on it cos he loves you. Ooh and he hangs out at cat cafes with you as much as he can! He wants a cat so bad but playing with those or the city strays makes him happy. He’ll feed the strays with you and try to befriend them! He loves you with all his heart and will always be willing to help you with anything! 🌹

Replying under the cut <3

Awe I’ll thankfully have Friday Saturday and Sunday off (after working 16 days in a row), which feels very deserved at this point! And thank you so so much! I love my commissions, they definitely give me so much hope and energy. They really do keep me going, even if that seems corny or lame to say! 

Wow I can’t believe how hot it is where you are! Where I am it’s usually been in the 60s during the day which is nice cause the summers are SOOOO hot. The break from heat is definitely needed. I also want some rain! And don’t worry about responding slowly, I am happy for the interaction at all, you’re always so thoughtful and sweet!! I hope your migraine has eased up some since then! Life has a funny way of making us ache especially when we just want to relax. 

Yeah I’ve felt like I could just disappear and no one would notice lately, but I am sure it’s just my mental illness playing tricks on me. Since that’s how it usually goes. I’ve been relaxing where I can, in between work and art commissions. It’s a busy life but it’s worth it because it feels fulfilling. Buying commissions is my self care and the one thing I actually do for myself, so I’ve been doing a ton of that to make up for crazy amount of days and hours I’ve put in this month. I've literally only had one day off for all of January. I hope you’ve been able to relax, I know you said you have finals coming up soon, which can be very stressful. But make sure you’re taking care of yourself as well, especially with those constant migraines.

Ugh I absolutely love spooning with Aku. I just melt right into his touch instantly since I am always craving the feeling of him against me. He feels the same way, so we just absolutely live for our cuddles together!!!! We seriously have to cuddle like once a day! I always let him hold me when he’s emotionally worked up so that way he can calm down before doing anything. I am so good at deescalating his anger cause I just know him so well and bring him so much comfort! 

Yessssss he never loved sweets before, but once he met me and tried my baking he instantly started to love them and want more and more. He doesn’t prefers others though or even try them, he has no interest in sweets not made by me. It’s super cute. Sometimes it makes me think he only eats them to support my hobby, but even if it’s just that, that’s still so thoughtful! Gin loves my baking too, so they’re always playfully fighting over my treats. I make Aku share with Gin though, cause she’s my close friend! 

He’s embarrassed by his anger at times and always apologizes if he lashes out in front of me. He wants to do better and be better, just for me because he thinks I deserve the world and he wants to be the one to give me that. He’s so cute. I love him so much and I think it’s so adorable and thoughtful how hard he tries for me and how he wants to be the best version of himself since he met me.

He’s always taking me on dates to the cat cafes to make up for us not having our own pet yet. He loves to see how happy all the cats make me! He sneaks some photos and shows them to me later! I get all blushy and tell him to delete them cause I think I look ugly in them, but he saves them anyway! We’re not ready to adopt our own cat yet, so cat cafes and caring for strays definitely makes up for it. 

Akutagawa is just the greatest man ever and I am so happy to be in love with someone so lovely. He has my entire heart and I would give him the world if I could! 💞🥰

[pearloftheorient]

sorry to not be a fandom blog or roleplay blog for a moment. i just feel like i wanna express a bit of a heart-to-heart, just a quick rundown of whatever’s going on and how it all happened from my perspective. i mean i don’t even care if nobody reads this, but as someone who expresses a lot more in writing i feel like i should take this opportunity to help unload, you know?

so the lockdown definitely hit us here on friday the 13th in march, which didn’t feel as bad as it was. as a nurse i’ve had this weird concept that a lot of the common diseases that spread around can easily be blown up by social media (hold that thought for later lol) and i just you know, say you should just wash your hands, it’ll be okay. i mean i tend to take the logical route when it comes to health care?? because that’s what i studied and i feel like i owe it myself not to panic TOO MUCH. plus, my husband (an intellectual) also had the same attitude towards media being exaggerated, so like i’m copying his cool attitude as much as i can. i mean we even went to budapest just a week prior, watched a play, mingled with clusters and clusters of people..... and even though people already started wearing masks, i even make fun of them for wearing it wrong or just being quite excessive and wearing gloves in public (i still don’t like seeing gloves in public and if you’re a health care professional you might feel exactly the same way)....

and then they told me on that friday that all of the training days for the next three weeks that i have worked hard to set up, study for, book on rotas, juggled, invited speakers for (i’m a nurse-educator and i organise staff training as part of my job) are now to be stopped. my staff are now asking me about their learning opportunities, is the course gonna go on, and i feel a bit more responsible to give the correct information but i just don’t know where to get it??

then come monday, it was a whole different story again. since the non-clinical aspect of work has been indefinitely stopped, i am one of the people who had been expected to go back into the clinical area and handle patients (i mean i still do this despite my role, but i now have to do it more often). which was fine because handling patients is my happy place, i feel like it is within my remit, i know exactly what i’m doing most of the time, i have a smaller scale to tackle and that’s gonna ease my brain a bit while the world starts to fall into chaos. i’ve done this for the next few weeks. i did mostly clinical shifts, and just do some admin stuff like once a week?? just so i can keep up with the new developments and properly disseminate information, like what PPE are we gonna have, train people in wearing them, what we actually need to do if we get patients with COVID, crash courses for those who will be redeployed, cancelling and cancelling and cancelling study days and training days and finding multiple alternative ways so people still maintain standards despite not having the face-to-face training....

as a nurse-educator, i also feel like i should always watch the news and be aware of the latest guidelines, what WHO wanted us to do, how am i gonna apply this for my colleagues and the safety of our patients... so i’ve done that on a regular basis, and my brain is just filled with information and i actively help in setting up bedspaces with the initial instructions of what PPE to wear....

and then towards the end of march, people are dying. and the fact that it was building in numbers made it more real. and now i started to question what i already know, if we’re actually doing the right thing, but why do other countries do it differently?? why do other hospitals do it differently?? how come people are still on the street?? decisions from the government and the big execs just fluctuate and this trial and error approach just all of a sudden.....became the new normal. 

and then we’re all like, but we just have to work together - since all of our non-clinical stuff had been on standby then we can just focus on working clinically, doing patient care. and then i was given the instructions to gather nurses from my unit (we deal with neonates - babies - like i personally haven’t got a clue on how adults work anymore as i haven’t handled one for like 15 years) who can be redeployed based on their previous experience. redeployment sometimes is viewed as heroic, like wow you’re brave to work in adults despite your rusty experience just for the sake of helping with the pandemic, that’s Great. and then to some, it is their worst nightmare, being redeployed is like being fish out of water - going back to square one, not knowing exactly what you’re doing (remember how i was so confident doing clinical?? yeah that’s only for neonates). and then the solidarity feel like, yeah but at least you’re not alone? we gonna support you?? you’ll get all the special messages, a round of applause, because you’re doing something so brave. i wasn’t redeployed, but six of my colleagues are - and every time they talk to me about how stressful it was and how scared they were being uncertain all the time and surrounded by death and suffering, i felt responsible for putting them in that position.

and then i started to feel sadder and sadder. but i can’t stop working, i am physically well, i am strong enough and i am a Great addition to the numbers. besides, with all this redeployment, we are also receiving some temporary replacements who simply had no idea how neonates work! (it’s like a full exchange programme but with little training) and it is my responsibility to make sure they are trained (i mean look, we all did LONG ASS courses to reach where we are in terms of knowledge, months and months of clinical exposure to the area to gain experience, but now i’m asked to train all of them for just ONE DAY.) and so after training, i’m like this mother duck chasing all the ducklings making sure nobody goes astray. so that was the first two weeks of my april.

it’s also when i decided to stop watching the news or looking at social media about the virus because i have enough stress going on, and i don’t wanna like sound so depressed whenever i’m teaching this new people that are coming to us. i have to be open and warm and welcoming and maintain a cheery attitude despite my patience running so infinitesimally thin. i’ve always been known for my calmness and patience. i may be an anxious bean but i’m quite good in not letting it show in my handiwork.

so i know that’s been stressful - but the good things, i am definitely thankful for. people stepping up, working hard and together with less animosity. the free food was overflowing, i don’t even have to bring lunch at work anymore because there’s always something, even fresh produce because tbh everything hurt after a hard day’s work that you can’t even go grocery shopping :p we had this really posh resto that gave us free breakfast every single day and normally in this resto you like have to make reservations at least 6months before to be worthy lol. despite the back and forth decision making, we do have the right equipment to do our work, and with the virus not usually affecting the little ones, we are not heaving as much in terms of the amount of patients. and just the love, the supportive messages, the rainbow drawings, the applause - i mean just wow.

i guess the more i’m fueled to work harder. and the fact that i get to keep my job when a lot of people had been furloughed or lost theirs, i just feel i have to make it count and continue helping in ways i know how.

i have just trained the last two nurses to come (so far) when i got called that my husband got sent home because he got ill. and he is a nurse too, looking after adult patients with covid so he is getting far more exposure than me.

by protocol, i am automatically self-isolated because of him. and so for the last week of april, we are on a full lockdown, with him on a sickbed and me trying to “work from home”

i am working from home and my colleagues continue to ask me questions about work, i write guidelines, mark essays, basically all the admin stuff i’ve stopped doing because i have been pulled into clinical numbers. i constantly dreaded how my husband will be - knowing the scary stories about how the virus treated some people and the rising number of deaths, especially among frontliners. he was fine and got better, thankfully. and then i fell ill that very weekend - and i became a full dramatic binch for a week because my fever and muscle weakness definitely prevented me from doing anything productive. (this is when i binge-watched the untamed lol)

but then we both got tested and we’re both negative lol. whatever the fuck that was surely knocked us down but thankfully it wasn’t covid WHICH MEANS we should go back to work sooner rather than later. yay. we’ve been off for a total of 10 days.

and then i returned to work last week, and i felt so exhausted. apparently it was a common theme from those who had symptoms or had self-isolated (even though i am negative) and i just felt like those 10 days despite spending them mostly in bed, i felt like i ran a marathon that entire time and now i’m paying the price.

i still feel tired now after 4 days of work, and i haven’t even been clinical (they gave me the benefit of the doubt that it might be FALSE NEGATIVE) so i haven’t handled patients YET and instead focused on my admin work - which welcomed with its spiky arms fuck that shit we just had the most dramatic cases at work that i had to deal with, and that’s not even covid-related. and so my brain was also like scraped to the core lol

so anyway, yeah i guess that got long.

i mean i still haven’t talked about what’s happening in the background at this point, like my family (they are okay! thankfully. and my mom is very paranoid which means they are always taking care of themselves lol), the government in where i live and where my family lives (lotsa fucked up things happening right now out there too, dammit i’m so sorry philippines), and all my future plans for 2020 that have now been shitted on by this virus, but let’s not get overly dramatic now.

idk i just feel like pouring stuff out because apparently that’s healthy for you.

stay safe. wash your hands. stay at home if you can. frontliners - and i’m just not talking about my fellow nurses - TAKE CARE AND STAY STRONG. AND THANK YOU. but don’t be an extra hero. wear PPE when you come face-to-face with potential risks. take breaks. know where to draw the line.

[secretbloggerme]

An Addicts Reality

I would like to take a little time to discuss addictions. The reason I chose this topic is because I can relate. Hello, my name is Kassandra and I was once an addict. My drug of choice was Crystal Meth. I grew up with an addict, always considered one of the “guys”, so I was around a lot at an early age. My first hit was given to me by my father at the age of 14. Prior to that, I was sent to score for him as well as a couple others in the family at the age of 12. My first beer was given to me at the age of 9. So, as you can see, it was not a choice I made on my own. I was raised in a different lifestyle, until my mother finally was able to leave and escape the abuse. There are a few things I would like for people to understand. First of many is about rehabilitation centers that are there to assist those who cannot get cleaned on their own. In addition, I would also like to touch basis on the importance of family. Also, I would also like mention the counseling that is also provided for situations like this. People can be so judgmental of addicts they see or come across, rather than trying to understand the circumstances. 

Rehabilitation centers aren’t all what they seem to be. I cannot speak for others, but I am speaking from my experience. The most frightening of all when entering is being able to get through all the pain that comes along with it emotionally, physically, as well as mentally. My worst pain I had to endure was the body aches, the cold sweats, and not being able to drop a bowl movement for 1 week and a half. Also, I was not eating for approximately 8 months, besides alcohol and the drug of choice. To having to endure all the emotions at once with all the past trauma that I will not speak of. Not only emotionally, but to mentally be able to be stabled enough to deal and confront my issues was also something that I struggled with until this day because I was taught by my father emotions were a sign of weakness; currently, I have a challenging time with my girlfriend speaking of what I feel; yet I can write it down, which is not the greatest, yet it is an effort. Finally, my biggest issue I had was being able to keep my sobriety. Not many know that the most drugs you can get or that are the fastest to find is in rehab itself. That is how after almost making it a month, I relapsed; because another member had it in hand and offered it to me and many others. As an editorial staff states, ( Hardy was ordered to go to rehab by the court after a string of run-ins with the law. We’re told the staff at the rehab got suspicious of Hardy’s behavior on Friday and gave him a breathalyzer test on the spot... which he failed). So, it is not exactly the most resourceful-but in all reality what is?

In addition, I would like to discuss the importance of family. Not many realize that deserting someone that is struggling with addictions, in my opinion, really shows the fear of being unloved is becoming a reality. For instance, Kristina Murray, an author, who writes about the importance of family roles in sobriety also states;” Despite seeing a loved one struggle, family members can and ideally do play a major role in the treatment process.” When I was going through my tough time, the words I got from my mother was and I quote, “ I will not have a drug addict as a daughter” and from there I was on my own. Not ever trying to understand as to why or even bother to ask how it happened, but in our family, we never speak emotionally so to grow up with no affection also was not beneficial. When I was on my own is when I had met my ex-wife, who was the one who reached out to my mother, who then decided to assist me.So, if it wasn’t for my ex-wife, my mother would have never known much about what i have been through. I do also understand that you cannot help someone who is not willing to help themselves. I also tried to talk to my father about becoming sober, but it has not happened until this day. Even if he is not ready to become sober, I will never stop being there, even if it’s to buy him food, clothes, shoes, blankets etc. Family support goes a long way to show affection, to be able to have that one-on-one talk because you get them to think beyond the front they try to impose. Tough love does not work for everybody, but I can admit, it gave me some thick skin. I have also met women who were not working for the greatest job in the world, as well as men who even served this country, and being able to hear and listen to their stories also was an eye opener for me, it made me that much more of a genuine person.

Also, I would also like to mention the counseling that is provided for situations like this. I can agree this can help some people; as for me, it was not much helpful. Take into consideration, I have done counseling most of my entire life, it just reminds me of my past trauma, but at the same time, I finally was okay with it. Meaning what i went through, I see it as normal every woman goes through it; but for my counselors they see me as crazy, and not a normal person, because I am content with my trauma. They have all told me the same thing you will never forget but you will learn to let go. Since I have let go, I think it is normal they assume I am not mentally stable. I believe I am stabled and I have let go, but with the outcome of my traumas my anger built, my mindset changed, my personality has been destroyed, and now I am serious, observant, and my trust is broken. I keep myself away from family because they do not like how I have become. They do not understand I am in this situation because I have protected them since I was young. So out of all the counseling I have done, all it has done to me is remind me of all the pain I have been through and had me continue to be so closed in from everything, as well as everyone even to be able to move forward. I will have to go back to counseling once again just to be able to transfer my medication from Arizona to California. Counseling really in my opinion is not the best source because all I am doing is re-living my traumas which is not the best way to live your life. But again, what can one do, when the medication keeps your mind at ease and it makes you live as normal as it can get for you? Therefore, I do my best to avoid counseling for the reason being the whole reason for my addiction was to cover my emotions, hide away a pain that is unforgettable, and to be able to continue and move forward with my life. As Kate Anderson, B Sc. author of tech-based delivery of CBT shows promise for alcohol use treatment states, “ Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) focuses on challenging unhelpful thoughts and behaviors, and is proven treatment for alcohol disorder.” Not only is counseling like an alarm clock but a goos percentage of the counselors have also once been an addict. I have worked in a prison facilities where we have had counselors compromised by these inmates and have brought drugs into the facility for them. So how is one to know that your counselor is trustworthy of hearing your most silent pain? There is a saying “ once an addict always an addict” with the reason being that it is a lifelong battle and you can relapse at any given moment. 

In all reality, people that have not been through addiction should not be so judgmental. It does matter if you have seen a loved one, a friend, ex co-worker through addiction; you will never be able to understand it unless you have been through it yourself. I have had many people around me speak ill of them and degrade them that enough is enough. All this talk about removing the homeless is in my opinion ignorant. I have fed the less fortunate, I have met amazing people when I went to feed the homeless. Yes, addiction is a disease as well as STDS, HIV, and AIDS, but do people stop having sexual relationships? Now that I am also in this position of going place to place or even motels I can minus the addiction, I am still grateful enough to push forward and to continue my sobriety, because it is one of the hardest things to overcome in a city full of it. The day I began working in Corrections I made a vow to myself to be honest. So, May 9th of 2016, during mt academy, I had spoken to my Sergeant and advised her I  that I have only been clean for 2 months and if I ever doubt myself in turning anything in is the day I will quite because a job is not worth losing my sobriety and she respected that. So, the next time you think to yourself about rehabilitation centers, or family,as well as counseling, understand that it is not always best for everyone.It is easier said then done hearing it from someone who knows nothing about it or even lived it. So instead of judging them, why not assist them with food clothing, or even see how there day is going?

Written by: Myself 

Based on real life experiences 

[chippedteakettle]

I have never met anyone filled with more fear of what they can’t control than my own mother.

Growing up, I often felt entirely imprisoned by what she cut off in life because it caged me in too.

When we lived isolated in the country, She taught us to hide- close the blinds, cut off lights, turn off sounds- when the neighbor she didn’t like popped by for a visit to make it look like we weren’t home.

When we moved to the city, I was scolded heavily once for going outside to get the mail without letting her know because the alert from our security system about the garage door being open scared her so deeply she accused me of negligence. When I said the only way to get the mail was to go through the garage she accused me of ignoring the fact that I could be abducted and raped in the time it took to open the mailbox so I should never have left the garage door open unless I was driving out of it.

I could not leave my house to even step into the yard without permission in advance.

She and I both have autoimmune issues. I have responded to mine with optimism, attempting to live all the life I can with the capabilities I still possess and choosing to see my chronic pain as a thing I deal with, not a definer of who I am. She however has become a terrified shut in. She views herself as incapable of so much- she is scared so many things will cause her death. She is scared of strangers, scared of disease, scared of lack. She attempts to shield herself by “staying informed” but it also means she panics for everything. She does not work. She does not volunteer. She does not have friends. She does not commit to anything outside of her home. And all that worry has nowhere else to go but be funneled at her family.

My sister is stuck back at home because her college semester has been canceled. And after a week shut in at home, she mentioned wanting to see friends and my mother vaulted the tension of the conversation through the roof when her immediate reply to my sister was “are your friends more important than my life? Do you want a dead mom? If I get the corona virus with my immune system, it will kill me. I will be dead- just because you wanted to spend time with some friends?”

My mother has always been a hypochondriac in my eyes. She’s treated every flu season I can remember as the plague. She greets its annual recurrence with panic and paranoia. So to reach a point in the world where our own president has been diagnosed with a virus that is the focus of a global pandemic is her worst living nightmare. She’s been living as if this was our reality for years now, but to be actually faced with quarantine and closures is I’m sure terrifying for her. I can’t imagine the nightmare in her mind.

But to speak to my sister that way is even at the surface appalling. And if it was a one time thing it would be traumatic at best to put that kind of weight on a child’s shoulders. To narcissisticly imply that my sisters need for fresh air and a lack of confinement for even a few hours is a selfish request spoken with ill intent and malice toward my mother when it’s just a cooped up teenager wanting a little space.

But this is NOT the first time she’s done this. Hardly. Not by a long shot. Shes been pulling that card since I was 4 years old and I am 29. The “do you WANT to have a dead mommy” card is how she taught a small christiana right and wrong. When I was right, it was what I was supposed to do. When I did wrong, “it causes stress in mommy’s body. And that stress makes me sick. And if I’m sick, I could die. Is that what you want? Do you want a dead mommy?” This was the threat leveled at a child who couldn’t figure out how to tie her own shoe laces yet. When the wrong I did was simple things because I was a child.

So I never did. I never did any wrong. I was her best friend and confidant. I was her fixer and encourager and care giver. Any attempt I made at having new friends or a boyfriend was greeted with contempt and animosity and a viscous accusal that I didn’t love or care for her if I even desired those connections. How unready I was. How I’d make someone miserable if I were their girlfriend. How I needed to stop reading so much because I was just trying to escape my life instead of dealing with the real world and it was shameful to constantly try to escape. How, if I couldnt figure out how to wake myself up with my own alarm in the first grade, I’d never be able to make it in the real world and she was terrified what would become of me when I was an adult. How unstable I was. How I needed to be in the care of a psychologist if I was so unhinged or in boarding school because she shouldn’t have to deal with how much work I was emotionally- it was too taxing for her body to have to deal with the stress I caused it daily as she homeschooled me in isolation.

That was my life.

Those words and actions shaped my reality for years.

But now, I live on my own. In a cozy den of furry blankets, pastels, and starry string lights. A peaceful sanctuary all my own. I get to luxuriate in knowing that no one will yell or scream at me, or tearfully accuse me of wronging them by simple innocent behaviors. No one can come into my home unless I let them- it is safe here and beautiful. There are usually soothing gentle nature sounds playing or the pride and prejudice soundtrack or the whistling of a kettle filled with hot water for tea. Things that are soft on the heart, soft on the ears, soft for the mind. It’s a shelter I’ve worked very hard to earn on my own and create and I am grateful every time I wake up in it.

I work daily with preschool age children at a church program where I can love and hug them all I can and tell them how precious, valuable, smart and kind they are. Where I can squeeze them lovingly -just for being them, not for anything they’ve done so they begin to learn that love is given, not earned. I volunteer at church singing worship music to calm and ease people’s troubled hearts and minds, and spend time with teenagers who are overwhelmed with life and home lives and trying to find their way. I have side jobs where I get to intricately weave hairstyles together for brides and their maids and help a woman feel like a true princess for a day. And side jobs where I can visit a home on my own and pamper a woman by blowing out her hair for her, so she goes into the world feeling confident and assured instead of nervous that she didn’t do her own hair “right.”

I have a few precious friends who- although our lives are busy and scattered these days- are like family to me and have seen me through the hardest days in my life. They will always be down for a hug, chick fil a, Mario Kart and a deep talk if I need it. They are the family I chose, that chose me. I am dating my best friend, a man so kind that he once compared my heart to a beautiful piece of literature because it was so complex and layered and nuanced that you can have read it forty times and still not catch things and said how much he’d love to keep re reading the story of my heart for the rest of his life.

I have cultivated a life where i can be creative, where I can possess my soft, gentle heart and it be viewed as an asset that helps me flourish not a crippling liability. I can make things with my hands and my voice without her harsh criticism or subtle, perception bending manipulation. I have put boundaries in place with the people in my world who try to step on me with rude behavior. And eliminated as many of those relationships from my life as I can. At work, where I cannot control who else is there, I respect myself enough to not even feed into those relationships, because their power grabbing behavior is not my fault and I don’t need to interact with them if it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t have to continue being around being who make treating me like I’m small a recreational hobby.

I have kept my schedule full of things that matter to me and bring me joy, to the point that I am often over committed and yearning for a slower life . But I also know, I love the doing. (Until I do too much)

I know that right now the world is shutting down, and it has so many scary ramifications for people. I may address that in a separate post, but right now, a closed schedule means that, even though my weary body is eager to find rest amidst the uncertainty- there is so much open space I suddenly can’t account for as a reason I can’t accommodate my mother.

Her panic and paranoia this week is unprecedented. She is insistent that I be in contact with her every day. Demanding I be as informed as possible. Her world -that is always so ruled by fear that she won’t even go to a park by herself for fear of a abduction- is in absolute disarray as the United States begins to try to even partially match her own caution. My sister is stuck home in her freshman year of college, going stark raving mad having to stay with her and I haven’t contacted her as much as I’d like to because my mother gets jealous when I contact my siblings more than I contact her.

I want to bring my sister to my apartment to give her some much needed breathing room but I don’t know if I my mother will allow her to leave after proclaiming everyone in her home would be under a 7 day quarantine last Friday after my sister asked to leave the house. My brother recently graduated and asked if he and I could start spending time together at least once a week. He’s been trying to better himself as a person and wants our connection to be better which I couldn’t love more.

This week has broken our streak and it saddens me immensely but I don’t know if our mother will allow me in her home without hysteria. My brother has become her new favorite in past years because he views her with the most compassion, which seems to come from a place of good intentions, but also a blindness to her manipulative nature. She truly has been through so much and a very harsh life before she made a family of her own. But she used that to keep me pliant for so long that it no longer holds weight with me.

Because of his stance of protectiveness with our mother, he views my resistance to her as wrong. Poor sweet boy. There’s so much he does not know and can not comprehend. He would find this entire post offensive if he knew of it. So in his eyes, the behavior I’ve suffered from her were a misinterpretation because of my easily offended sensitive nature. Which breaks my heart.

But his hope is for reconciliation for our family. He wants to be the glue that binds us all together. And I love his hearts intentions. But at the end of the day, whether can see it now or ever will, my mother’s behavior was and is abuse.

So I have not set foot in that house for fear of being transported back to an era i no longer wish to visit. Because my own schedule has left me very run down and our area has had some major weather fluctuations, I’ve had some minor flair ups of pain and some allergy sinus drainage. It breaks my heart to know I can’t tell my mother that I’m a little sniffly without chaos being unleashed. It breaks my heart to know that I really wish to see my siblings but I don’t think she’d let me in the house if she knew I was even slightly under the weather in any way because she can’t separate it from the corona virus outbreak. I hate that if she did let me, she may not let me leave, and if I try to anyway she will vilify me- the outcome im most afraid of.

I hate that I can’t ask her for tips on where I might be able to find groceries and toilet paper an laugh over how insane this is. I hate that when she called today and said I sounded congested that I had to lie and say it was just because I’d just woken up.

Because when you have a mother like that, you don’t get to be comforted. You don’t get to go to her for reassurance that everything will be alright or for care or advice. There is too much in her that demands to control, to micromanage.

It is impossibly sad to know that she will always be like this.

Especially when you need her.

I want to feel sad and compassionate for her. To have mercy for her mental health issues that she refuses to admit she has. But I’ve spent my whole life doing that.

And right now? I really wish I had a mom.

Not a mother.

I want to see my sister who’s 20 minutes away and have us all laugh and smile and make the best of life. I want to not be afraid that seeing my mother will mentally and emotionally send me back 5 years.

I wish she was okay.

[nebulousneuroticism]

Why, hello there.  It’s been a week.

I left last Sunday.  As expected, the entire day was travel--packing my bags, driving to the airport, and then a four-hour flight. Things went mostly smoothly, except a delay after we landed at our destination.  I made it to my hotel around midnight, and went straight to sleep.

My days this week followed a pretty regular pattern (for which I was grateful).  I’d get up around eight o’ clock--jet lag working in my favor, since normally eight o’ clock would be much harder for me--and walk across the street to the office.  I’d work all day, typically having a couple of long meetings to teach the new team about the projects they’re getting.  After work, I’d walk to a restaurant and get some food, and then spend the rest of the night relaxing in my hotel room.  Not bad, as schedules go.

The work stuff went pretty well.  I was nervous at first, but after the first few meetings went well, I felt more confident, and everyone was very nice to me.  I mostly kept to myself outside of meetings.  One member of my normal team is based in that office, so I sat with her for the first few days, until she took ill later in the week.

The food situation was mostly decent.  I had to get past a fear of eating at a restaurant alone--I always feel selfish, like I’m taking up too much room, knowing the waiter would rather have a full table than just one guy eating alone.  I eased myself into it the first night, taking my book to the half-empty hotel restaurant.  The following night, I tried a real restaurant, which was also half-empty; I ended up eating at the bar there, though I probably would have preferred a table, because of my fears of taking up space.  The third and fourth nights I went to more casual (and cheaper) places, and then on friday I tried a nice restaurant one more time--this one was a very uncomfortable situation, because I had to eat at a crowded bar.  But at least I did it.  I count that as a moral victory.

Some coworkers took me out for lunch on wednesday, too, and that was very good.

My hotel was very nice, and I was comfortable there.  I liked having a freshly made bed every night and a clean and modern bathroom.  But by the end of my stay, I felt ready to go home.  I was wanting more space and more freedom than I had with only my work laptop and some books for entertainment.

I got up very early today, made my way to the airport, and got on a plane.  I spent the flight reading.   I finally made it home around four o’ clock, unpacked, and went out for a little food.

It’s good to be back, but also there’s a lot of stuff I need to do.  A lot of chores have piled up in the three weeks I’ve been traveling.  My list for tomorrow includes laundry, cleaning my bathroom, an oil change, grocery shopping, and calling my parents--and those are just the most urgent things.

Tonight, though, I spent relaxing with some television.  I also ordered a bunch of things on Amazon, which I’m kind of excited about mostly because I so rarely buy things.  There’s something fun about knowing that a package is making its way toward you.

I’m very tired.  I’m glad I don’t have to work tomorrow, but also kind of bummed that I have so many chores to do.

[diningpageantry]

Unseen

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343617/chapters/41107136

Chapter 5/11 of Of Wealth and Leisure

Word Count: 3145

Summary: A horseback ride through the countryside results in an unsettling outcome. (CW: very mild violence; described from an outside POV where the person only hears it).

“Do you always take this long to saddle a horse?” His voice reads entirely of mockery and his face is full of amusement, raking his eyes up and down my body as I toss the saddle attop my mare. Of course, he was ready minutes ago; he even prepared and packed away our lunches in the saddle bag. All that’s left for him is settling himself on the horse itself.

I shoot a mildly malicious glare over towards him, strands of curls falling into my eyes as I attempt to look at him teasingly. Ever since my arrival to the manor, I haven’t been keeping my hair as impeccably short. While at home, The Mage advises clean and short haircuts, as to avoid snagging. Therefore, it feels as though I’m involved in a mild act of rebellion by allowing the length of my hair to grow uncharacteristically longer. I can hold it in handfuls, and tug full curls around my fingers, too. It’s quite satisfactory to wipe it away from my eyes--it gives me a sense of unparalleled control. At times, I fear that Mr. Pitch will tempt a pull at it as we fight like schoolboys.

At this moment, though, our argumentative nature has simmered to a lukewarm back-and-forth. Especially here in our current situation, as we finish gathering everything necessary for a day’s ride through the country, do we only keep to a bicker.

At last, the rain has cleared. It felt endless, continuing on for days and days until September hit. Once it finally cleared, Mr. Pitch made the decision to tell me that he was finally ready to show me along the land. To my surprise, he took further initiative into the situation than I had and actually did get Cook Pritchard to pack that lunch.

I may owe this man my life if he continues to bring me food.

We settle ourselves upon our horses and I tip my hat at Ebb. She's smiling from beside the stable doors, giving us a quick wave off as we begin our journey onto a trail leading from their property.

Baz, of course, critiques my riding abilities as we go along.

“It’s a wonder you don’t lead,” he quips. “How long have you even been riding?”

I hesitate with my answer, knowing it’s a tad revealing. Most wealthy children learn at such a young age. “Five years,” I answer truthfully, eyes drawing down to the reins in my hands.

He sends me a look of curiosity, but as I don’t return his questioning gaze, he drops the subject entirely. “Why do you wish to take the trails at all? If you’re not a regular rider, I don’t see why it’s so appealing.”

“I wish to see the lands from the inside, not just the observational fields around it.” My attention lifts back to the world around me, eyes following the hanging branches and lush greenlife around me. “It’s nearly like a fairy tale. I’m shocked that you don’t explore it more often.”

He shrugs casually, a movement I cannot say I’ve ever witnessed him do. In fact, I’m the only person who seems to shrug as so within the household. I consider mocking him for doing so, but then again, it would be self-depreciative in the process.

I decide against it.

“You don’t agree?”

“It isn’t that I disagree. On the contrary, I do think that this land is quite magical, but I have my reasons to not explore it as often.” He pauses before finishing off his thought, biting in his lip and seeming to contemplate his following statement before allowing it out. “I fear what could be inside of it. The unknown, id I may.”

I laugh unexpectedly, then silence myself as quickly as I release the laughter. “You cannot possibly be fearful of the woods, Mr. Pitch. There’s only animals and insects to be afraid of; nothing else.”

He shifts in his saddle, and I watch as his hands grip tighter around the reins. “There’s plenty to fear,” he defends. “There’s always the possibility of people hiding in woods, or creatures we’re unaware of. I never underestimate what I could face.”

My head turns as I stare at him, eyes blinking slowly as it processes that he’s not making a joke, but rather sharing his actual thoughts. I would laugh again, but it’s not quite humorous anymore. It’s rather questionable, and concerning myself over what experiences he’s had that would lead to such superstition feels as though it would unpack more than I believe either of us are ready for.

The silence stretches out, and the only sound between us is the ground underneath both of our horses’ hooves. He seems to focus in on the world in front of us, shocking me into the observation of how hyper-aware he is in this environment. Overly reliant on surroundings and his senses, Mr. Pitch carries the unquestionable air of a man being hunted. At times, I nearly itch in ill-ease of his actions. Others, I find myself glancing out into the wood in silly fear that there would be something, but I only flicker my eyes aside to calm myself with the steadily expected stream of green.

His head partially trails, following the life around us and seeming fixated on something nearby. Clearly, he’s lost in his thoughts and finding something to focus on; a furthered part of his anxieties towards the forest and all that it holds.

I clear my throat, snapping him back into reality as I insert my voice to remind him that I'm here as well. “Care to tell me a bit about the land? What’s the history?”

He blinks a few times before finding his words again. Once he starts, he doesn’t quite stop, rambling endlessly about how long his family’s been there and the history behind it. He’s obviously quite prideful in the the air of his name; those who came before him, and who may be ahead of him. Although, it’s clear that he has a difficult time with the present. Perhaps there’s aspects of that that should be discussed.

I don’t push for any aspects of his life. I shouldn’t; he’s still got a barrier wall between himself and the rest of the outside world, not letting us into his fortress of a mind. I wonder if it’ll ever crumble.

After a point, we find a cliffed clearing overlooking the land around us. It sprawls out, showing a full view of where the rolling hills touch the sky and sink deep back into the ground. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

We dismount, spreading out a blanket and taking a seat with a decent distance between each other as he unpacks the food. I dig into it shamelessly, trying to time myself as I stuff the meal down into my mouth.

I feel his eyes on me, making me squirm slightly in my spot as I stare back. Trying to mock him, I raise an eyebrow much like he would. He makes it seem quite easier than it is; I raise both of mine at him instead. “Is there an issue?”

“You always eat so quickly,” he observes plainly, staring at me. “Any particular reason why you eat so quickly?”

His words make me bristle, growing defensive within seconds. It’s part of me that I’d rather keep hidden; parts that spread rumors, but never get confirmed. Where I’m from. How The Mage keeps me. “It’s easiest that way,” I shrug, looking out over the land as I take another mouthful of my sandwich. I make a mental note to thank Cook Pritchard for the extra serving. “If I eat a lot at once, I can be more productive with my time and get to my next task faster.”

He chews slowly, watching my movements as he analyzes what I’ve said.

I’m not quite expecting his reaction. “I think you’re lying.”

“Pardon me?” I stare at him, expression reading exasperated but body filled with dread. Of course I’m lying. I would rather eat the rock we’re sitting on than tell the truth about my life to my arch nemesis (although, I’m hesitant to call him such now). But, despite my best efforts, he read clearly through my efforts in disengaging the conversation beforehand.

“You and I know quite well that you don’t do anything that would be considered productive,” he says, looking bored for a moment before his face breaks into a grin, telling me that he’s simply mocking me again. I feel myself exhale.

I finish my sandwich and dust off my hands on the cloth we’re sitting upon. “Yes, well, I believe in fast eating to save time,” I say once I swallow, throwing him a look of annoyance. “Unlike some of us who eat as if they own time itself.”

“I enjoy savoring my food.” He lifts his nose snootily, scrunching his eyes and shaking his head condescendingly. “Life should be enjoyed, not rushed through. Luxury is something we can afford.”

The cloth beneath me drags a little as I turn on my hip, facing him with an elbow propping me. “Yes, well,” I begin, voice dropping to a private murmur. “While I can afford luxuries, it’s useless to me to sit around and mindlessly chew for hours. I’d much rather spend such time on other luxuries--more interesting luxuries.” I see his face flush with my words, slowing down his movements to observe my speaking. Between us, his hand drops and rests out in the open. I briefly consider taking it into my own before realizing how odd of an idea it is.

He makes a show of swallowing the rest of his meal, head facing me as his hands prop him up. “I’m allowed my equal luxuries.”

“And what are those?”

To that he laughs, face turning sour towards me. “What, are you saying that you don’t witness me doing anything of my interest within your months living in my home?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head in the slightest. “I’m stating that your so called equal luxuries are unknown. I’ve seen you read, and heard you play your violin, but I barely consider those equal luxuries to other privileges you and I hold.”

As if it were a challenge, he turns his head up as he grows a smirk. “Alright then, Snow. Fair enough. How about I exercise our luxuries and take us out to a play. I’d fancy one this Friday, in fact. We should take a carriage into town.”

My face mirrors his, a smile spreading across my cheeks as I nod. “Why just one? We should go spend a weekend in London and see various shows.”

He grows pinker as he laughs, a brilliant red complementing his soft brown skin. “I’ll take such an offer, Snow. It sounds like a luxurious enough investment of time.” We smile at each other, unsure of whether it’s genuine or an outrageously misunderstood argument turned competition. It’s easiest to go with it anyway, unquestioned as to what the intentions of it are.

I begin to consider what that weekend would entail; a hotel stay, perhaps a shared room. Dinners together. Intimate, city outings. It would be a lie to say that it isn’t absolutely appealing...

With that turn of conversation, though, we wordlessly agree to stand and pack up our picnic. After it’s set away, Mr. Pitch turns to me and exhales. “If you don’t mind me, I’m going to take a quick stop in the woods to take care of business. Will you watch the horses?”

“Of course,” I say mindlessly, still somewhat enthralled with the overlooking view to care to look at him. “Should it only be a second?”

“Yes, yes. It’ll be a snap.”

I hear the crunching of the ground behind me; twigs snapping and leaves rustling, and it grows further with time. It takes an unexpected extra few seconds before I hear startling noises; further rustling of leaves, muffled shouts, and the kicking of underbush. In a rush, I glance to my horse and grab the sword I’d brought (Mr. Pitch had mocked me earlier for my decision to bring it, it’s clear it was the right choice) before charging into the unmarked path within the trees.

The shouts grow louder before I hear a yelp of clear “Help!” in Mr. Pitch’s voice. It draws me in, rushing inwards and slicing anything that gets in my way. When I find him, he’s laying panting and injured on the ground. He hisses in pain, gripping his leg as rustling of the trees quickly sounds as if it’s further and further.

Dropping to my knees, my hands search his body to find injury, which doesn’t seem to be anywhere but his leg (except for his roughed-up shirt and trousers). “Good God, man, what happened?!”

“What do you think happened?!” He snaps before groaning in agonizing pain. “I-I was attacked; I didn’t see who, but he came from behind a-and…” His eyes dart around in a panic, leg still in his grip. While I’m the furthest thing from a doctor, it’s clear that the injury lays deeper than skin.

I shakily stand him up, having him lean entirely on me as my eyes dart around. “Should I look for him?”

“No, dear God, no,” he cries, arms wrapped around me tightly. “Don’t be a tit--get me home, damn you.”

We’re stumbling and completely uncoordinated, but I manage my way through the woods and back to the horses, who seem a bit spooked but still present. I hoist him up onto my horse and climb on in front of him, which leads to him wrapping his arms around my waist without being provoked to. While I’d hate to admit this given our particular situation, but it makes my skin prickle at the sensation of being held.

I snap for the horse to break into a gallop, and luckily Mr. Pitch’s mare has been well trained enough to follow as we rush back down the path towards the Grimm-Pitch residence. It’s somewhat bumpy, and with each hit to the ground, I hear a groan emerge from Mr. Pitch’s throat as he clings to me tighter. This isn’t quite the intimacy of our situation that I’d envisioned, but it’s somewhat acceptable from me.

Bursting into the clearing, workers startle and stare as I push onwards towards the stables and house. Shocked servants start spilling out, trying to get an eyeful of the scene. It doesn’t do much justice to us, though, as we need more than rubberneckers to help. As we pull in, Ebb leaps urgently and drags Mr. Pitch off, finding a seat to settle him onto as she elevates his foot. The flooding consists of everyone--the family, the servants regardless of closeness to him, and even some workers fill into the stables to see what had happened to him.

Immediately, it turns into an investigation. Mr. Grimm hovers over me and glares at me all accusatory as I'm stepping away. He begins closing in, forcing me to back up shakily and spread my arms in case I tumble. My vision blurs, adrenaline overloading me and hitting at such an inopportune time.  “What have you--”

“He didn’t do it!” Mr. Pitch breaks in, hissing in pain as his leg gets wrapped. “It wasn’t him, he rescued me. Leave Sir Snow alone.”

I pant, staring upwards at Mr. Grimm as he recoils and stares down upon me before flicking his head towards his son. “Then what in the world happened?”

“Attacked-someone followed us.” His fists clench, exhaling through his nose as his jaw sets while he's breathing out something unheard. “It wasn’t him, father,” he continues audibly, “leave it.”

So he does, leaving me trembling in my spot as countless people fuss over Mr. Pitch and his wounds. In the process, we exchange unsteady glances, to which he doesn’t seem malicious or disgusted, but rather seeking pity and comfort from me as he’s cared over. Someone asks which doctor they should call, pressing ice to his wound as I clear my throat.

“Send a telegram for Doctor Wellbelove. He’s a friend of mine; he’ll treat Mr. Pitch well. Just mention that Sir Snow is sending for him.” That deserves me a thankful exhale from him, face dropping and head rolling down as he flinches in pain and focuses on his somewhat ragged breaths. Eventually, I take a chance to go kneel beside him and look over his injuries as my mind runs through our conversations.

The woods. The way he looked so dazed and unsettled while he looked out among it. As my mind traces back, I can’t help but ponder whether or not there was something he could sense that I couldn’t. If my obliviousness was too heavy; if I should have been more alert the entire trip.

Furthermore, it raises more possibilities, and darker ones at that. Is there a spy attempting to assassinate Mr. Pitch? Was this a failed mission for his throat? And, if so, is it someone on the grounds?

My mind flicks through possibilities, working itself up further before suddenly going static at the touch of Mr. Pitch’s hand against mine. I startle, then raise my head to meet his gaze. When I meet his, he’s staring at me with mild concern as he exhales. “Thank you,” he says, just quiet enough that it’s only me hearing him. At first, I believe I’m mistaken, but the hand still pressed to mine is telling me elsewise.

In a simple returned nod, I smile sadly and chew on my bottom lip. “I am a hero, after all,” I mumble in efforts to defuse the situation, and much to my surprise, it works.

“Always the hero.” He looks down, clearly still in pain but trying desperately to hold it back. “I apologize for this; I suppose it means our leisurely break will have to be postponed to a more convenient time.”

“Suppose I can always go without you.”

“You will not,” he remarks, “and, not to mention, that the theatre will be quite bland without me.” Somehow, despite the urgency and desperation of the situation minutes ago, I smile at him and exhale out somewhat of a chuckle.

“I doubt it will be,” I tease, still grinning from ear to ear as he smiles back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Ebb at the edge of the stables, by her house. I can’t quite read what her expression is, feeling overwhelmed and chaotic from the moment at hand. The situation was absolutely unexpected; from a pleasant exchange one minute, to so utterly terrible and barely understood the next.

I can’t help but wonder if she’s disappointed in me for leaving him alone. After what he said on the trip there, I can’t quite believe that I had either.

[juliabenerdy]

Yes, Because PMS wasn’t Hard enough!!

So every woman feels their She-Hulk burst out of themselves during the week of their monthly visit. 

For some women it’s like having a demon rise from the depths of hell though. I wanted to bring this up because not many woman or really anyone is educated about PMDD--Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder is a severe form of PMS that includes physical and behavioral symptoms that usually resolve with the onset of menstruation. PMDD being a cyclic hormone based mood disorder is commonly considered a severe and disabling form of PMS. Many women of course, 85% experience the normal PMS. Only around 5% of women will be diagnosed with PMDD according to the American Journal of Psychiatry. 

Hi folks. Yeah didn’t mean to get medical journal on you or anything but that is the basic definition of PMDD and I am someone that is part of the 5% of the (un)lucky women that go through this hellphase every month. Yes, every month the body drags me into a phase of hormonal hell. 

I discovered the disorder when I was researching my symptoms and noticed that I was always getting worse with my depression and migraines during my period. My husband would also say I would have horrible mood swings and strikes of anger and irritability. Haha...he would say this very carefully of course. When I talked to my doctor and at the time I was seeing a neurologist for my migraines they both said I have PMDD. It normally starts for woman around their thirties. I was lucky to get it around my upper twenties which is common as well. 

PMDD can cause extreme mood shifts that can disrupt work and damage relationships. Here are the symptoms common to PMDD: 

Mood Swings

Depression or feelings of hopelessness

Intense anger and conflict with other people

Tension, anxiety, and irritability

Difficulty Concentrating

Fatigue

Change in appetite

Feeling out of control

Sleep problems

Cramps and Bloating

Breast Tenderness

Headaches

Joints and muscle pain

Hot flashes

Already being diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and having PTSD makes having a hormonal disorder even more of a nightmare. My depression and anxiety goes up to 2.0 level. My mood swings are out of this world where I feel like sometimes I am super happy one moment and then really upset the next. I am an extroverted person and I am normally happy, but when this time comes around I do feel intense anger and I have conflicts with people when I am normally pretty easy going. Imagine having all these issues 7 to 10 days before your menses and only when you start you feel a little better. Not me though...I live with mental illness everyday so what to I get to do? Only when I start my menses I get to go from Julia She Hulk 2.0 so regular Julia Mental Case 1.0.

I hate feeling like I am only normal maybe one week of the entire month. Lets look at April so far shall we?

I start the 11th. That means I actually start the PMDD symptoms Monday the 1st of April. Anger, irritability, tension, and fatigue all kick in to the fullest extent around that time. Even to the point where I try to be superwoman for a co-worker on Friday the 5th and get in a bit of an argument with a different co-worker because of it. I couldn’t help it, my righteous self justice had to be heard! 😁Bloating and cramping, of course and they start their a little later than the mood. In this case it was starting the weekend and all the way through the end of the menses. End date would be 15th where there is some relief. However, I feel aches, pains and fatigue. Could be from my normal Julia 1.0 depression or remnants of 2.0. At least my mood is better and I get happier and in a better mood.

So out of the entire month I get two weeks that I am my kind of normal. At least not the Julia Hulk version of me. This whole thing was really depressing me this month and the only way to really make me feel better was to write and share about it. I thought maybe if I shed some light about the disorder someone else could be like “hey that sounds like something I go through too!” and they can speak to a doctor like I have. I don’t know. I feel like writing and researching things gives me some sort of power and control over what I am experiencing and feeling. I often feel out of control of my emotions which is due not only due my depression and anxiety for certain but also probably to my ENFP (Meyers-Briggs) personality. 

This month instead of wallowing in self loathing and hate I decided to see what I can start doing to make myself feel better, not just over all with my life-style, but during those two weeks of hellphase. Since doctors really don’t know what causes PMDD there is not really a cure or anything. Researchers mostly believe that it may be an abnormal reaction to hormonal changes related to the menstrual cycle. Hooray....*dripping with sarcasm*

I had to go looking for things to assist me from now on. No more hellphase...I am looking for more like...sucky time. I know it wont be sunshine and rainbows all the time because that is not realistic but I need to look for some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. Some treatments for PMDD:

Antidepressents (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors to be exact--I actually take Cymbalta and it also helps with pain so my doc said it is good for migraines)

Hormone Therapy (birth control pills---already on these)

Changes in diet---so this is one I am actually working on actively no just for this but to loose weight and to over all change my life. 

Regular excercise--again this is something that I am slowly adding to my routine...slowly because I got severely overweight due to my mental health

Stress Management--- journaling, meditating, talking to others, or engaging in a hobby are all things suggested for this if not more...I actually consider my new found blogging a part of my stress management. I am hoping to do it more. I also want to do yoga and meditate. I see a counselor too and I love those sessions. 

Vitamin Supplements---so it is said that 1200 milligrams of calcium, vitamin B-6, magnesium and something called L-trytophan can help but I am not really sure why

Some Over the Counter Meds- Of course there is the ibprofren and aspirin for the headaches, backaches, and cramping, but I am throwing this out there because nothing I read so far as mentioned it. Midols Severe formula is a life saver. I recommend it even if you dont have PMDD. It is literally my happy pill. It cures my fatigue, my bloating gone, cramping eased for awhile, and I even feel like my mood enhances a little. Miracle!!! So I swear by it! Hahaha

Anyway, this month is over and I am back to Julia 1.0 or maybe this is Julia 2.0 and the icky feeling one is Julia 1.0? I dont know, but what I am trying to say is i have a plan for next month and I am going to have a part two with how it goes with my little treatment plan! In case anyone is reading out there! Wish me luck!

[fanficshiddles]

As thick as thieves, Chapter 20

Trigger warning just in-case: Violence/kidnap.

Loki was constantly praying that he wouldn’t be caught speeding as he raced along the roads towards the cabin. Even Rita told him to slow down and be careful before she got off the phone to him from the shelter.

His heart was pounding against his chest and his hands were sweaty, he was so worried.

He hoped that it was some misunderstanding and that they had went away on holiday for a bit. But he knew that was a load of crap, because of what happened to little Loki. And the very worrying history searches didn’t help ease his mind either.

His mind was continuously racing with so many thoughts. What if he’d harmed her? Or worse? What was he doing to her? He was going out of his mind.

His emotions soon got the better of him. He fisted his hand up and bit down on it, trying to hold it together. But he couldn’t, and he started to cry.

Then when he finally turned down the track, leading deep into the forest, he got himself together by mentally slapping himself. He had to have a steady head, he just needed to get to Josephine. Whatever Brian did to her, he had to keep himself in check. If he went mental at him, it would only make things worse.

Stopping when the cabin came into view, he turned the engine off and took a deep breath before getting out. His one and only aim was to get in there and get Josephine out.

He jogged up to the cabin where he could see smoke coming out from the chimney so he knew they were there.

First he peered in the window, but he couldn’t see anyone. Just an empty kitchen. The agony of not knowing what was happening quickly took over him, so he gave in and went to the door to try it, but it was locked. Then he suddenly heard screaming from inside… It was Josephine.

But the screaming was abruptly cut off and he heard Brian hushing her.

‘JOSEPHINE!’ Loki shouted through the door, only to hear muffled screaming back.

He wasn’t going to wait. Taking a small step back, he aimed and kicked at the door. It took a few kicks, but soon enough he managed to break it in.

Brian had Josephine against him, a hand over her mouth and the other was holding a knife to her throat. Josephine’s eyes were wide in pure fear.

3 Days earlier

Josephine was on cloud nine during the taxi ride home from the airport. She asked the driver to stop up the road first so she could pick up little Loki.

On the way, she took her phone out and sent a message to Rita. Telling her about the holiday, what had happened between her and Loki. And how she was heading home to pack everything, dump Brian and move in with Loki.

When she got to her street, she knocked on the door of her friends’ house, excited to see her cat again.

‘Oh, hi dear. Are you feeling better?’ Her old friend asked.

‘Uhm, what do you mean?’ She frowned.

‘Brian said on Friday that you were ill. That you cancelled your holiday.’

‘He did? Oh. Yeah, sorry, my mind has been a bit of a jumble.’ Josephine said with a nervous laugh. She didn’t want to go into any details with anything, so just went along with it. Thinking she had seen Brian out and about or something. ‘I’ve just come to get my kitty. I hope he behaved for you.’

‘Oh, Brian came to get him on the Friday. That’s when we spoke. He said you were missing him while you were ill.’ She frowned. ‘Is everything ok?’

The colour drained from Josephine’s face.

‘I have to go. So sorry, thanks for watching him last week.’ Josephine rushed back to the taxi and had him drive her down the road.

She grabbed her case from the boot and ran to the house. It was unlocked. As soon as she got inside, she knew something was very off.

Little Loki was always there to greet her, but there was no sign of him.

‘Lil Loki?’ She called out, but nothing.

As she walked through to the living room, she let out a screech when she saw Brian sitting there. Just waiting. ‘Jesus, Brian. You scared me.’ She put her hand over her heart.

‘Hello, wife. Did you have a good holiday?’ He hissed.

‘Brian, look. We need to talk.’

‘What, no welcome kiss?’ Brian asked, standing up he walked over to her, but she took a step backwards. Making him narrow his eyes at her.

‘I’m leaving you, Brian. I’m sorry. I know it was no doubt expected. But I haven’t been myself with you. I’ve not been happy and I have been living a lie. It’s like I’ve been living with a stranger since I moved in with you. The engagement, the wedding. Everything. I don’t know you, Brian… I’m going to pack my stuff, get little Loki and we are leaving.’ Josephine said as confidently as she could under his horrid stare.

‘It was always going to be him, wasn’t it? As soon as he came back on the go, I didn’t stand a chance, huh?’ Brian said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

‘I’m so sorry. There’s nothing else I can say, Brian. I care for you, I do. But it’s just… Everything that has happened, before Loki came along too. We both want different things in life. It was just a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off. It’s for the best.’ Josephine looked down and slid her ring off her finger, and placed it onto the side table.

Brian watched and looked disgusted when he looked back at Josephine.

‘I’m going to pack… Where is my cat?’ She asked, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

‘He’s dead.’ Brian stated simply.

Josephine’s eyes widened, she felt her heart shatter. ‘Wh… What? What did you do to him?’ She cried, hand over her mouth as she sobbed in shock.

‘He was a disgusting creature. Just like the bastard that he was named after.’ Brian said coldly.

‘HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?’ Josephine screeched hysterically at him and launched for him. She went straight for his face and scratched him, then started punching his chest, but Brian then managed to grab her wrists and contain her as she thrashed and screamed at him.

‘You bitch!’ He snapped and wrestled her to the floor. He pinned her down and put his face right on front of hers. ‘You are MINE. I’d rather see you dead than in the arms of that man.’ He spat.

Josephine felt true fear flood through her. She had a feeling that Brian would snap, that he had temper issues. Something not quite right with him. But she never expected anything like this.

‘Please, Brian. Let me go. Please.’ She cried, still struggling.

‘NO!’ Brian yelled at her, then the next thing she knew, was a blow to the head and darkness took over her.

When she came round, she was in strange surroundings. But everything that happened came flooding back to her and she panicked.

She found she was able to move, but she felt very lethargic and her body was incredibly weak. She knew straight away that she had been drugged. Her body felt heavy as she tried to move and cried out for help.

But the help that arrived wasn’t what she wanted. Brian came through and smiled at her.

‘Glad to see you’re awake. I’ve sedated you, so that you don’t try anything stupid. You need to learn that we are to be together, no one is going to change that.’ He reached out to cup her cheek, but Josephine moved away, falling backwards in the process like she didn’t have proper control of her body.

‘I will leave you to think through your actions.’ Brian hissed and turned, slamming the door shut.

After a while longer, Josephine was able to take in her surroundings more. It was a small bedroom, she didn’t recognise it at all. But from the sound of birds outside, she could tell she wasn’t in the city anymore.

She was locked in the bedroom for 24 hours. All Brian gave her was some water and bread. Then finally the sedative wore off entirely. She was able to look around the room properly. The window was the first thing she tried, but it was locked. And she could tell by looking at the glass that it wouldn’t be easy to smash, it was too thick and there wasn’t anything in the room she could try with.

Her phone had been taken away from her. She knew not to even attempt the door, because she had heard Brian lock it before. And she definitely didn’t want to attract his attention while she was scoping out the room.

But it was useless. She couldn’t find a way out at all. She was just glad for the en-suite. So she could at least use the toilet and wash when she wanted. She didn’t know how long he planned to keep her there for.

When Brian next came in the room, he had a tray of food and another glass of water. But she could tell instantly that there was something in the water because the colour was slightly off. Though she didn’t let on that she knew that.

‘Why are you doing this?’ She snapped.

‘It’s your fault, Josephine. This is for your own good. You are better with me. You just need to see that. Soon, we can have the perfect little family.’ His words made Josephine’s stomach churn in fear.

She never thought he could be so dangerous. He was clearly delusional.

She glared at him as he walked over towards where she was sat on the bed. ‘I would rather kill myself than have a family with you.’ Josephine growled.

Brian’s face hardened and he scowled at her. Then without warning, he slapped her across the face. It shocked her so much that she almost went flying to the side. She put her hand over her cheek and looked up at him, fear and tears in her eyes as her skin stung.

A moment passed where nothing happened. But then she launched for him again. She managed to grab his hair and pulled hard, making him cry out in agony while she scrambled to get away from his grasp. But he managed to grab her, so she brought her knee up between them and hit right in his groin. Brian let out another cry of agony as he doubled over on the floor.

She took that opportunity to run out of the room. She could see it was clearly a small cabin they were in. There was the main living room, with kitchen all in one. Blankets were on the sofa, so she knew that Brian had slept there. But the door was where she was aiming for. But of course, it was locked. And she had no idea where the key was as she searched around for it, her heart racing in fear as she heard Brian’s footsteps coming out of the bedroom.

‘THIS IS INSANE, BRIAN. YOU CAN’T KEEP ME HERE!’ She screamed at him as he grabbed her.

‘YES I CAN! And I WILL!’ He said angrily, grabbing her hair and dragging her kicking and screaming back to the bedroom.

He threw her inside and was quick to lock the door again. She banged against it and tried to knock it down, but it was no use as she was too weak.

She slid down to the floor at the back of it, crying and wailing loudly.

Josephine had no idea how long had passed. But she knew it was at least the following morning from the way the sun was rising. She’d not touched the food, in-case he did something to it. The water, she poured down the sink and just drank from the tap. So she knew it was fresh water.

But she had to get out of there. Had to put a plan into action.

Taking a guess that perhaps he’d tried to put some sedative into the water, she lay on the bed when she heard him opening the door again. Her suspicions were right, as Brian didn’t seem suspicious with how she acted.

Her body was heavy and she looked in a daze, drowsy. He had to help her to sit up, she just allowed him to do so and let her body go limp.

‘This is the only way I can keep you calm, stop you from hurting yourself. Now, come on. We are going to go and watch some TV together. Your favourite show is on.’ He said as if it was the most normal thing in the world to carry your drugged, kidnapped, wife from the bedroom to the sofa.

He left her there while he went to turn on the TV. Josephine glanced at the door, but she knew it was useless without knowing where the key was. So she kept up her act of being out of it. At least she had fooled him enough to get her out of the bedroom. It was a start.

Part of her couldn’t help but think how stupid he was. In a way. Did he really think that putting something in her water would work? Did he really think she was that stupid? Then again, she realised she shouldn’t be complaining. Or it would make escaping much more difficult.

It was not long into the show that Brian put on, when Josephine’s ears perked up, hearing something from outside. Someone was trying the door.

Brian realised too, just a split second after Josephine did. So he wasn’t able to stop her as she suddenly leapt up from the sofa and started screaming like a banshee for help. He launched on her and covered her mouth with his hand, pulling a knife from his pocket that he put there in-case of an emergency.

‘Shut up!’ He hissed at her. ‘You fucking liar, you didn’t take the water.’ He whispered harshly into her ear as she struggled in his grip. But when he pressed the knife against her neck, she instantly stopped.

Her heart was pounding against her chest as the door was broken. Then she felt an odd sense of relief wash over her when she saw Loki walk in.

But the relief didn’t last long as Brian pressed the sharp blade into her skin more, causing it to sting.

[evakuality]

So it’s meta Monday again, and here I am finally with this clip analysis.  Please, if you want to play along and give me something to talk about, then hop over to my asks and give me some ideas.  Otherwise, it’ll be another of these next week :)

Episode number and name: Two. Du er over 18, sant?

Clip number and name: Five.  Mekke øl

My thoughts/analysis:  Not only is this a long clip, it’s also one in which a lot happens.  And is, understandably, a favorite for many people including me.  So I apologize in advance for this thing being roughly a million words longer than it probably needs to be.  It’s also very very hard to say anything new about this clip.  It’s been analyzed to death, but I’d never forgive myself if I missed it.  So bear in mind there’s not much new here; this is just my version of a long running love affair with this clip.  

It starts after school on a Friday with what are fairly typical joyous shots of people really happy that they don’t have school again for a couple of days (I empathize -- I may not be a student but I too would like to dance in the streets when school’s over for a week).  And into this, of course, come our boys.  Magnus is showing himself to be someone who wants to learn and do better, and yet is still a bit of an idiot.  He’s taken on board that guys should go down on chicks, and has decided he’s going to do it himself.  Just exactly how he’s going to do this is hard to figure out, considering it’s very clear that he isn’t really experienced and has literally zero game.  Isak doesn’t help, insinuating that Magnus would need directions if he ever got anywhere near a girl, which, from him, is just a teeny bit hypocritical I have to say; but it does say a lot about the personalities of the two.  Neither of them is particularly experienced, neither of them is as good with this stuff as they’d like to be and yet one of them has everyone around convinced that he’s the master of flirting and hooking up, while the other is the object of jokes.  The fact that Magnus can wear his heart on his sleeve like this while Isak has to hide so much is yet another pointer to the distance there is between this group.  The fact that Isak is so good at this mask he uses is sad; it means he’s been doing it for a very long time.  This is second nature to him, and he has cultivated and perfected this image of a player to the extent that it doesn’t even seem like he’s trying.

Then of course, we have the scene where they argue about who owes who beer and so who has to be the one to get it.  The main point here is to set up an evening they are all looking forward to, which Isak then rejects in favor of Even and his many charms.  That Isak ends up agreeing to source the beer makes the stakes here higher than they otherwise would be.  If he was just going it’d be fine for him to skip but a) he’s the one with the in to Emma and her friends and b) he’s also now the one who’s supposed to provide the beer.  So, when he makes the decision later to ditch them it has a lot more weight.  He’s disappointing Emma who thinks he’s into her and he’s disappointing his boys not just by pulling the promise of the party away from them, but also by not providing the alcohol.  We tend to not blame Isak here, because we see how affected by Even he is, but this short scene is here to make us realize that this is a bigger deal than we might think and that the others around him are justifiably pissed off with him when he decides not to go.  

Also obviously, we have Isak sincerely trying to get beer for the guys.  He’s not unexcited by this party etc tonight; he actually wants to go and is making a goodwill effort to get the beer.  Eskild is a no go, but that doesn’t stop Isak from trying.  He’s genuine here.  As a side note, the boys should probably have planned ahead here.  They’re not old enough to get beer themselves so it’s presumably not the easiest task and they’re giving themselves only a couple of hours.  On the other hand, that’s fairly typical teen behavior really.  Decide in the moment what you want to do, and then try to make it happen.

Then we have that perfectly awkward meeting on the tram.  Imagine how joyous Even must be right then.  He’s just standing here minding his own business and then the object of his affections turns up in his tram!  It’s a sign!  Fate, or something!  Unfortunately, this guy is so engrossed in his phone that he hasn’t even noticed Even at all.  The resulting conversation is so deeply, painfully awkward to watch but it tells us so much about each of them.  Isak is overwhelmed, clearly nervous and has no idea of what to do or say.  He looks down and away, he can’t hold eye contact and he’s just a mess.  It’s up to Even then, to carry the conversation, which he does though he leaves it in the realms of small talk.  Contrast this with his very forward behavior at the kosegruppa meeting.  There he had a plan and he set it in motion.  Here, it’s out of the blue so he’s winging it.  And Even’s winging it is kind of not that great, heh.  There are long pauses and Isak pretends to be really interested in his phone, which seems to blunt Even’s approach somewhat.  Thankfully, Isak has his inspiration and asks Even to get him some beer.  I do wonder how awkward that walk between the tram and the shop and Even’s home must have been.  They’re neither of them good at small talk, or at least not when they really care about the person they’re talking to, and this time there’s no weed to help them along the way.  At least not yet.  Again, thank goodness for Even and his inspiration!  He’s not willing to let Isak go now that he has him within conversing distance so he comes up with a plan to take him home with him.  My feeling is that this must have taken a little bit of planning between the tram and the shop because he’s so supremely confident again.  His ability to walk off as if he doesn’t care at all is useful to him because it intrigues Isak and he’s more than willing to follow.  The amount of courage that must take, though: Even has no way to know Isak will follow along yet he does what he thinks will be his best bet at getting Isak alone a little more.  Walking off has worked once, so maybe it will work again.

I actually think, given that Even is shown later to be somewhat scattered and not terribly responsible, that it’s possible that he really did forget the ID.  I know it’s apparently unusual in Norway to not have it, and it’s entirely plausible that this is 100% made up (Isak certainly looks bewildered by the idea that he might have forgotten it), but it’s also a possible hint towards Even’s issues and his illness.  Either way, it gets Isak into Even’s home and they’re instantly more at ease, even Isak.  He’s curious, drawn to Even’s walls as he tries to figure this guy out.  It all serves, of course, to make him seem even cooler.  He has guitars!  He draws!  He’s funny!  Isak’s charmed by it all (and you can see Even’s happiness that Isak seems so into it in his glances towards him as he searches).  This all makes it much easier to forget the beers when Even can’t find his ID and instead produces that social lubricant, weed.  

The next time we see them, they’ve clearly been talking for a while and they’re a lot more comfortable. Isak’s almost garrulous as he talks about school and what you can get away with.  It helps that Even is so very focused on him.  How heady that must be for Isak: this very attractive boy seems to want to know Isak as much as Isak wants to know him.  He’s still playing up a little of course: he’s the tough guy, the one who skips school and who the principal doesn’t like enough to extend the grace for attendance to 15%.  It’s all designed to make Even think he’s cool.  He even admits it when they talk music.  He has his things he listens to when he wants to feel cool.  It’s very close to an admission that there are things he does or says when he wants to feel cool.  This is contrasted very nicely with Even’s mention of Nas.  He’s almost hesitant when he brings it up; this is something that’s important to him (certainly he has memorabilia surrounding him too, so it’s not just a casual connection with 90s rap).  Isak has been trying to act cooler than he really is to impress Even.  Even is trying to show some of his vulnerabilities to connect with Isak.  They both have the same intention: making a closer connection with the other person, but their approaches are very different.  And I think in a lot of ways, the issues they have later arise from this different approach they each have.  The nice thing about it is that as soon as Even realizes what Isak is doing (pretending in order to impress) he calls him out on his bullshit, but does it in a way that’s charming and isn’t intended to hurt or belittle Isak.  It leads of course into the montage where they both clearly fall deeper for each other.  And it’s such a natural move into that moment, allowing Isak to appreciate Even and the way that happened.  They laugh easily, they sit quietly together too.  It’s all such a huge contrast with the tram that it’s hard to believe this is the same afternoon.  Of course, weed has a lot to do with it, but there’s so clearly a natural flow between them.  They get on well right from the start.  

So it all means that by the time they’re making terrible cheese toasts in the kitchen, they’re very much at ease.  They can tease and joke and have fun.  Isak is pretty sure that there’s something happening here; enough so that he’s allowing himself to look at Even in a way that he’d have been too scared too before the tram (in fact, that we saw him being too scared to do just a few hours ago).  Enough so that he’s confident enough that he can blow off his plans for the evening in the knowledge that he can stay with Even.  He also has enough confidence that he can contradict Even with his ‘so bad it’s good’ line.  He’s no longer trying too hard to fit in with what Even wants, and is happy enough to be a little more himself by now.  Incidentally, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: he is not a master liar and manipulator.  His lies here are appalling; telling different lies to two sets of people with easy enough ability to contact each other: rookie mistake.  I don’t for one second buy that Isak was a clever manipulator of Eva in s1.  I think he was an opportunist who didn’t think things through properly and got burned.  Much like he does here.  Because he’s terrible at this stuff.  Even, too, by the way is terrible at lying.  He gives Isak a beer, right out in the open and later says he has plenty.  Like, Isak could have bought those off him and headed off to his party happily.  But since neither of them wants to separate, neither of them brings it up.  Beers for the boys are totally forgotten in fact, because it’s far more interesting to stay here with their crush.  That both think it’s unrequited at this point is both adorable and frustrating.  As is Even’s idea that flirting by talking about male genitalia is cute.  Of course, it seems to work on Isak so maybe he’s just got the measure of his man already.  Or maybe he’s just lucky that Isak is so readily charmed by him.  They eat, they laugh, they have fun together.  It’s all very lovely (and Even’s casual ‘yeah I have heard about your rapping’ is the height of understatement; don’t tell me he didn’t do exactly what Isak did and scour the internet for Isak sightings, much more successfully it seems than Isak was with Even sightings), and it’s designed to show again how well they fit together, how much fun they have when they’re alone and unselfconscious.  It’s all very very sweet to watch.

Of course, all this bliss is there at least partly to make the thorough destruction of all Isak’s hopes that much worse.  His face when Even introduces his friends and Sonja (and then kisses her thoroughly) is heartbreaking.  It’s also then that his lies also come home to roost.  So, not only does he lose the fantasies he’s been feeling for Even, he’s also caught out by his friends and Emma.  The mask he’d been so careful with has been allowed to slip, and just when he thought it was worth doing he finds himself without it right when he’s actually going to need it the most.  He can’t hide from the boys and Emma anymore, even though he does try.  But I think this is the seed of Jonas figuring everything out; that Isak is willing to blow Emma off suggests he’s not into her and Jonas is smart enough to notice that and be able to put it all together over the next few weeks.  It’s also clear that if Isak was thinking properly, he’d probably realize just how significant it is that Even literally forgot all his friends and his girlfriend while with Isak.  But as it is, he doesn’t see it, probably because he’s caught up in his own misery, his own jealousy and his own horror that he’d misread the situation so badly.  So we end the clip and the episode with Isak feeling completely lost and miserable.  It’s not a good way to leave him.  He’s in a vulnerable place and it’s difficult to leave him here after having seen him so very happy and relaxed earlier.

Romeo and Juliet connections for clip:  Certainly none that are overt.  Unless maybe Sonja is meant to parallel Paris a bit the same way Emma has before.  Representing the decent, nice person the ‘Juliet’ figure should be with.  Neither Paris nor Sonja is a bad person; they’re just not the right person for Juliet and Even.  Or not right in these moments.  I’ve mentioned before I think that both Isak and Even thinks of themselves as Juliet, and that makes this all stronger now.  Juliet makes a decision to move away from the person she’s with and to take a leap of faith on Romeo.  A leap that isn’t actually that huge, because Juliet isn’t invested in Paris at all.  She feels a duty to him, but no actual love.  So, maybe this is a hint that despite Even seemingly engrossed in Sonja here, that she’s not actually the obstacle she appears to be.  Even has a duty to her (a 4 year long one), and he clearly feels some compunction around all this.  Though not enough for him to stop pursuing Isak until the Sonja thing is properly dealt with.  In that respect, it’s fairly similar.  Paris is strung along, mostly by Juliet’s parents, but he still thinks he has some call on Juliet and her affections.  As does Sonja, with more direct encouragement from the actual person.

Associated extras: There don’t appear to be any.  Which is a good thing for the sake of my wordcount, which is already eye wateringly large.

Overall impressions: As with probably the entire fandom I absolutely love this clip.  I love how easily and seamlessly it takes us from awkward beginnings to affectionate teasing and casual friendliness.  I love that they both seem so into it, that they both cast knowing glances at each other.  I love that Isak, for the first time, allows himself to hope.  That it ends so sadly for him doesn’t negate the joy that seeps through in every frame of the earlier scenes.  It’s a masterful clip and it does its job superbly.  I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of watching this one.

[daniactuallysnuffledthatpopcorn]

Painting Flowers (Chapter 13)

[A/N] My camp Nano project from April 2014. Heavily edited.

Summary: Dan has come to accept that his psychotic episodes and hallucinations are here to stay, when he meets Phil Lester. Although Phil can’t fix Dan, he does give him something to fight for. Something to try for, one last time.

WARNINGS: Mentions of self harm and suicide. Deals with mental illness, hallucinations and psychotic episodes.

Word count: 2.4K (34.1K total)

<-previous chapter -- next chapter->

Start at the beginning

Michelle was the first to enter the room after the three men. She immediately noticed the post it notes scattered all over the floor, with words written on them that she could not read yet. She recognised the behaviour. It was something she’d told him to do herself. ‘If you’re feeling down or if any of the voices are saying bad things to you, write it down on a post it note and rip that to pieces.’

He hadn’t given himself time to rip these ones to pieces. He’d probably moved on to the next note as soon as he’d finished writing the previous one. With so many voices in your head talking at the same time it was hard to keep up.

--

Dan spent three weeks in the hospital this time. He was restrained in a no-visitors-room for the first one and a half week and was then moved to a normal room, where he remained restrained for the rest of the week. It wasn’t until they were completely sure that he wouldn’t attempt to harm himself again that they let him walk around freely.

His parents and Phil visited him as often as they could, and Dan had met both of Phil’s parents too, who often came along with either Dan’s own parents or Phil. The two pairs of parents became friends easily, and although it felt strange to Dan that Phil’s mum and his own would come to visit him without Phil being with them at first, he quickly got used to it and he looked forward to their visits.

Phil’s parents even came to visit him on their own twice, and Dan couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy their visits. They were both the kind of people that could keep a conversation running no matter how uninteresting the other person was and they were constantly chatting away at him.

No matter how enjoyable everyone’s visits were, he still looked forward to the day he was going to be let go. Him and Phil had already planned a date for that day, despite both sets of parents advising him to go easy for a few days first.

When they realised that they couldn’t talk the two boys out of it, Kathryn insisted on at least driving them where they wanted to go, and that was how they ended up waving her goodbye while stood in front of that bookstore where they’d first met about five months ago.

Dan hadn’t been here very often ever since, and he felt a hint of regret tugging at his heart as he watched Andrea stack some books on a shelf through the familiar glass door. They walked in together, hand in hand.

Andrea looked up when she heard the little bell above the door go off, and she immediately smiled upon seeing them. “You two got together? I called it. I called it, Dan, didn’t I? I told you first time I mentioned him to you. I did say that, didn’t I? I don’t really remember actually. What can I do for you two boys today?”

“We’re just here to look around, really. Thanks though.” Phil gave her his sweetest smile and pulled Dan to the shelf in the back, with the astronomy books.

It was a tad dusky back there, as the lamp that was supposed to enable them to read the titles on the spines of the books was broken and only flickered a little occasionally. Like lightening.

It was already dark out, and they were sure to be able to see each other better if they were to stand in the middle of the store, but neither seemed to have the intention of moving away from the exact spot they were standing that moment.

Andrea couldn’t see them from where she was standing and they couldn’t see her. It was almost as if they were alone in the store, and when they heard her footsteps walk to the Staff Only door, after which she opened it, stepped through, and closed it behind her, they truly were alone.

Dan could just see the dark streets outside when he stood on his tiptoes to peek over the tall shelves standing in between him and the door to the outside world.

It was dark and a bit cold were they were standing, but all was forgotten when Phil carefully pulled him closer, hands on his hips. Dan was sure it wasn’t to hug him this time, as he kept his eyes focused on Dan’s own. Dan was perfectly willing to do this. More than that even. He had been waiting for this to happen was a better way to phrase it.

When Phil closed the distance between them a little, still giving him space to move away, Dan didn’t hesitate for even a second before completely closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Phil’s. He felt soft and warm against him. Not just his mouth, but his entire body. The older boy wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist and pressed the two of them together, leaving no room between them. This time he didn’t give Dan the chance to move away, but it wasn’t like Dan needed that.

He wanted this. Maybe even more than Phil did.

He’d never kissed anyone before, but all the puzzle pieces seemed to come together just fine. Phil made up for Dan’s lack of skill with ease and they stood there for a good few minutes before one of them had the guts to carefully pull away.

Dan had the urge to look away when their eyes met again, but he didn’t. He knew he was blushing, but he was done looking away because he now knew Phil didn’t care if he was embarrassed. He didn’t care at all. “I’ve been waiting for that to happen for like a month.” Dan admitted.

Phil chuckled, “I’ve been wishing for it to happen for even longer. I wanted to make sure you wanted it too.”

“Oh, I definitely did.” Dan laughed, kissing him again.

--

They were sat on the steps before the ice cream bar, both an ice cone in their hands and both too busy with the other to remember to eat it. It wasn’t until Phil noted that the ice cream was starting to melt and run down his hand in little streaks that they took a break from their chatter to quickly eat them.

It was a pretty day in early May. The sun was shining brightly, heating up the stone steps so much that the two of them didn’t dare put their hands on them, and everyone was walking around in T shirts and shorts. Dan and Phil watched the people go by on the pavement in front of them, whispering a comment to each other every now and again.

It had already been decided that Phil was staying the night, so they were in no hurry to go anywhere, sat there in their short-sleeved clothing and the sun burning on their exposed arms and legs. “It was so freaking cold when we first met.” Phil said suddenly.

Dan was quick to agree, “I was freezing my ass off.”

They were once again quiet for a few minutes until Phil once again spoke up. “Your appointment with Michelle is next week, isn’t it? About the pills?”

Dan nodded. “Friday.” He said.

“So do you know what you’re going to say yet?”

Dan rubbed his hands together and stared straight ahead. “I’m thinking of trying them, you know, the pills. I want to talk to her about trying even stronger medication, because right now the pills I’m taking aren’t working that well anymore. I’ve been reducing my dose to make sure I don’t get withdrawal symptoms, but they’re practically useless for my hallucinations at the moment.”

“But there are stronger medications available, right? You can take stronger pills that will actually work and you’ll be able to feel as good as you did after those first two weeks?”

“Definitely. I want to try it, I really do, it’s just that I’m afraid I’ll have, like, an episode again because my voices and characters don’t want me to take them. They’re the only ones standing in the way of me and those pills.”

“Maybe it’s best if you make sure that for the rest of the week up until you start your new pills you’re not left alone again? Like if there’s no other option you could even get admitted to the hospital for a few days while you wait, right?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind if you were with me all week.” Dan smiled.

Phil laughed and poked his arm, “Me neither, but I’ve got classes, you know.”

“I know, I was just joking. I think I can manage.”

“I hope so.” Phil said. He put his arm around Dan’s shoulders and kissed his cheek, “Man, am I glad I can just do things like this without you thinking I’ve gone out of my mind now.”

“Well honestly, I would’ve thought you were a little out of your mind if you’d done this two months ago, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have liked it.”

--

They walked into Dan’s room together. Dan hadn’t been there since the day of his most recent episode, and the first thing he realised was that they’d cleaned up. He never remembered much from what he did during episodes, but this time he was sure that he’d made quite a mess.

Two big plastic bags were standing on the bed, and he assumed those were the post it notes he’d written and thrown on the floor. As soon as he’d heard that he’d written them, when he was in the hospital, he’d asked his parents to keep them. He wanted to know. He wanted to read them all.

It would keep him strong in his decision to start taking stronger medication if he knew what kind of things the voices and characters said to him.

“Those are the post its.” Phil said as he pointed at the bags, confirming Dan’s assumptions.

“Yeah, I thought so. Did you help them clean up?”

“Yep, it was your parents, mine, and me.”

“Your parents helped?”

“Of course they did.” “They’re angels. You’re all angels. I don’t know how any of you even put up with me.”

Phil laughed and turned him around, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I chose to put up with you and never have I once regretted that decision. Please remember that. Always. I won’t regret this decision.”

“Sometimes I regret my decision myself.” Dan admitted.

Phil gave him a confused look.

“Sometimes I regret ever putting up with myself and making others put up with me.”

“If that means what I think it means then you need to drop those thoughts right away and set them on fire because that is bullshit and you are not to think that way.”

Dan grinned, “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

“No, I just say whatever comes to mind.”

“Yet you always come across as calm and collected while you say the most perfect words you could’ve possibly said in that situation.” “Well, thank you. I do try to say the perfect things.” Phil laughed.

 Dan took the bags off the bed and started taking out the notes, carefully placing them on the sheets in long rows until the entire bed was covered in post it notes in all the colours of the rainbow. He smiled contently and took a step back when he was finished. Phil had sat down on his office chair and had watched him work.

“There.” Dan said.

“Have you read them all?”

“None yet. I wanted to arrange them first. Here, get up.”

Phil got up from the chair and stood next to Dan, looking at the arrangement of notes on the bed for the first time, as he hadn’t been able to see them from the office chair he’d been sitting in.

“You arranged them according to the colours of the rainbow.” He stated.

“I did.” Dan nodded.

“You know the order of the colours by heart?”

“Of course I do.” Dan said, proceeding by reciting them for Phil, “Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.”

“Yeah, but can you recite Pi to eleven digits?” Phil challenged him.

“I can recite it to 32 digits.” Dan replied.”

“Prove it, buddy.”

“I prefer a less platonic term, thank you very much.”

“Prove it, boyfriend.”

It had the desired effect, as it shut Dan up for a good few seconds before the younger boy nodded and started reciting Pi. “3.14159265358979323846264338327950.” He spat it all out in one breath with practised ease and gave Phil a content look when he finished.

“See now this is just unfair. You could’ve been bluffing and saying random numbers and I wouldn’t know.”

“Type them in on Google, I’m completely correct.”

“Okay, so why do you know Pi to 32 digits?”

“I learnt them on Pi day.” Dan said simply, as if that explained everything.

“You’re an impossible person. You truly are.”

Dan grinned, almost proud of himself for baffling Phil.

“So what I said earlier, about, how do I say this, I called you boyfriend, are you okay with that?”

Dan turned to face him and leaned against the wardrobe. “How do I say this,” He paused for a second while he pretended to think, “Fuck yes.”

He was immediately pushed with his back against the wardrobe by an overexcited Phil, who was pressing his own body against Dan’s and connected their lips in a strong kiss.

 By the time Dan finished reading all the notes it was nearly twelve and the two of them made quick work of putting them all back in the bags to clear the bed for them to sleep in.

They got changed into their pyjamas (which consisted of, in Dan’s case, a T shirt and boxers and in Phil’s case just a pair of boxers, because damn it was it hot), not bothering to take a shower and brushed their teeth together, standing close to each other even thought he bathroom was big enough for them to stand in front of the mirror together without touching.

Dan eventually fell asleep with his head on Phil’s chest and the latter’s arms tightly wrapped around him, and he had to admit that he hadn’t slept this well since, well, the last time he’d fallen asleep in Phil’s arms.

[dovechim]

friday the 13th (m)

anonymous asked:

“I’m going to break you tonight.” Dom!Jimin - PLEASE OML I live for Dom!jimin ❤️

anonymous asked:

For smutty Jimin fics... I know it isn't one of the ones listed in part 4 - but this has been going through my head all day: "I’m going to break you tonight." Dom!Jimin slays me.

➾ 4/13 of jimin’s smutfest 2017

➾2.2k

You’re currently glaring across the room at Joy, who’s doubled over in laughter on her bed, and it doesn’t seem like it will stop any time soon. You’re beginning to feel a little insulted, actually, because it’s not even that funny, and what’s wrong with wearing a necklace with a cross on it to the club?

It is Friday the 13th in October, after all.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, it’s just- I can’t believe you’d wear that to the club,” Joy dabs carefully at her under eyes in order to catch any smears of mascara. “It just seems so… ironic, don’t you think? We’re gonna be making out with boys and slutting it up for them and all, do you really wanna have that on your conscience?” 

Joy doesn’t understand, is all. You’ve had a bad history with Friday the 13ths, and considering it doesn’t even happen all that often, you feel like it’s more than justified for you to take the necessary precautions. The last time you went out on this ill-fated date, you got robbed of all your valuables and stranded by the roadside, and while walking home you twisted your ankle and got splashed by a car that was speeding by.

“I mean, I just wanna stay safe, that’s all, I know you’re not superstitious or anything but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” you cross your arms over your chest, and this entire defending yourself thing is getting old, fast. “And wait- I’m not gonna be ‘slutting’ it up!”

“Not even if there’s a hot guy breathing down your neck ready to fuck you into next year?”

You wave her away nonchalantly. “Maybe, as long as they’re not gross and creepy. Sometimes I can’t even get myself to cum, so how can some guy I’ve only just met do any better?”

Joy only shrugs as she grabs her bag from her bedside table, heading for the door. “Who knows, if you meet someone good tonight, maybe your perception of Friday the 13th might change.”

*

Maybe it’s because of the cross around your neck, you can’t be entirely sure, but you manage to get to the club in one piece, even manage to make it to the bar without anyone spilling drinks on you or groping you.

It’s nice to be casually throwing back shots with Joy- that you have to admit- even though she’d all but dragged you out tonight. It doesn’t seem like many other people share in your superstition about Friday the 13th, because they all seem to be carefree and happy.

Either that, or already beyond drunk.

Once you feel slightly more lightheaded, you let Joy drag you to the dancefloor and lose yourself in the music that seems to engulf every single sense, the same way that the crowd of people seems to swallow the two of you up. It’s hard to keep track of each other in this mass of sweaty bodies grinding against you, but Joy gets swept away by a tall stranger in no time.

She gives you a subtle wink to let you know that she’s okay, and so you let her go without a word.  

Seeing as she’s already occupied for the rest of the night, you start to head back to the bar, thinking of nursing a drink for a while till it’s socially acceptable to leave, or till you feel you’ve made the most out of the exorbitant cover fee you’d had to pay- whichever comes first.

The bartender gives you a glass of water and you accept it, downing the contents in one shot before heading to the washroom to freshen up. When you start to follow the signs on the walls towards the washroom and it leads you to a secluded back room of the club, you start to question if this was really such a good idea after all, and you remember why you don’t go out on days like this.

You’ve never been to this club before, but you’re definitely not coming back now that you’ve seen how poor their facilities are. It’s a little suspicious how there aren’t any other patrons waiting to use the washroom when normally there are lines for it, but you brush the concern aside and push open the creaky door. 

Even though Joy would probably laugh at you if she heard this- if you even make it back alive to tell her- you clutch the small cross hanging from your neck and shoot up a small prayer.

The flush of the toilet seems a lot louder and more menacing in the total silence of the darkened hallways, and while a part of your rational brain knows that nothing bad can really happen while you’re still on club premises, your heart thuds away frantically in your chest. Your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself as you make your way back to the main part of the club.

Somewhere along the way, amidst the growing volume of the music from the dancefloor, your ears detect the sound of footsteps behind you, and you start to speed up, eager to get out into the crowded and noisy dancefloor, when you trip over your platform heels in your haste.

A hand grabs your arm from behind, pulling you backwards and saving you from doing a faceplant on the floor. Terrified out of your wits, because you surmise that this must be your stalker, attacker, murderer, you swing your arm around, hoping to hit the stranger.

But the stranger must have better eyesight than you do in the dark, because your hit misses.

“Nervous, are we? Calm down, I’m not a murderer,” the voice comes from the darkness behind him, and you can only see his silhouette. The stranger loosens his grip on your arm immediately once you’ve regained your balance, and the act alone calms you down a little.

You take a few steps forward, hoping the stranger will follow you into the light where you can see his face, and he does. Immediately your attention is drawn to his bright pink hair, tousled and pushed back off his forehead, and his plump lips stretched into a smirk that he wears with ultimate confidence.

“S-sorry, I thought you were-“ You begin to stutter, too fixated on the way his jacket hangs off his frame oh-so-casually.

But he’s blatantly checking you out as well, eyes lingering on the silver cross that hangs from your neck before trailing down to the criss cross straps of your bralette that dip down across your chest to emphasize your cleavage. His gaze makes you feel like he’s devouring every inch of exposed skin available, but the way in which he keeps his distance politely doesn’t make the whole thing come off as creepy or sleazy.

“Sorry I almost hit you back there,” you take a deep breath and try initiating conversation again, if only to distract yourself from how his chest looks moulded to his shirt.

The stranger only smiles and runs his fingers through his hair with a shrug. “It’s alright. Shouldn’t have creeped up on a pretty girl like that, my bad.”

“N-no, it’s my fault really, I’ve had a bad history with Friday the 13th, actually,” you admit with a wry smile even as your cheeks heat up from his compliment.

He seems amused to hear this, raising an eyebrow in response. “Oh really? Like what?” 

“Well, my friend ditched me to go get laid and I nearly get mugged by a handsome stranger, so that’s how it’s going so far,” you shrug casually, internally cheering when you manage to sneak in a compliment in return.

He only chuckles in response, holding out his hand for you to take. “How ‘bout I turn the tables then?” 

His invitation is too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand into his and let him lead you back to the dancefloor, and the crowd of bodies forces the two of you to press up against each other. The stranger’s chest is to your back, and from this position you can almost feel him right up against you, even though space is limited and he doesn’t try to take the opportunity to grind on your ass or even place his hands on your waist. 

His respectful distance sets you at ease, and you take the initiative to close the distance between you, letting your back hit his chest first and turning your head to him to whisper in his ear.

“By the way, I didn’t get your name. I’m ______.”

“Jimin.” The stranger grins once he feels you back up against him, and only then does he place his hands on your waist.

You can feel the way his hips move fluidly behind you, and even though you can’t dance to save your life, his hands on your waist guide you along to his movements, and you have no trouble following the beat at all with his help. Wanting a little more intimacy, you turn around to face him, looping your arms around his neck and watching as his eyes drop to your chest again.

Jimin is fixated on the little silver cross on your chest, and you take the opportunity to press your lower body against his. His lower body feels sturdy, and he takes the chance to wedge a thigh between your legs, and you almost moan at the way your panties are dampening just from that action alone.

“Tell me, are you a good girl?” He pants into your ear, and you can almost feel the wet lave of his tongue against your neck. “Did your daddy tell you to wear that cross so that boys won’t try to fuck you?” 

His words are the filthiest you’ve ever heard, and combined with his rock hard thigh grinding into your core, you’re almost sure that you’re already dripping for him. 

“No,” you decide to play along, giving him a small smirk of your own. “I can do whatever I want, as long as daddy doesn’t find out.”

Jimin’s hands tighten around your waist in response, and you relish the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin. On a particularly hard grind, you can feel his erection against your lower stomach, and you slide your hand down to grasp his wrist, tugging on it firmly as you lead him off the dancefloor.

He follows obediently as you lead him back down that deserted hallway, and your heart is pounding in your chest, only this time with exhilaration and slight disbelief at what you’re about to do. You stop in your tracks and whirl around to face him, dropping to your knees as you look up at him.

It’s clear what you’re offering to do, and Jimin moans when your hands make their way to his zipper. From your position he can see the way that silver cross sits on your chest prettily, the way your bralette straps dip teasingly and disappearing into your cleavage, but that’s all he can focus on especially when you start to wrap your hot mouth around him, tongue flicking against his head.

He tastes salty and full of desire as you swallow his length down your throat. You can feel the saliva start to pool in your mouth already, so you coat the remainder of his length with it, letting it get nice and messy. Jimin fists a hand in your hair and you can see his eyes start to glaze over especially when you swallow around his cock.

“Fuck, you take cock so well, does your daddy know how dirty you are? Where did you learn to swallow cock like that?”

You’ve never been one for dirty talk, always finding it too cringy and cheesy like in porn, but the way Jimin growls when you deepthroat him makes you soak through your panties.

He starts to gently thrust into your mouth, and you obediently sit back on your heels to allow him to fuck your throat as you stare up at his already fucked out form. You can see the way his thighs are quivering in his tight leather pants, every single muscle tensing in his pleasure, and the warm throbbing on your tongue tells you that he’s about to reach his high.

“Shit, I’m close already, your mouth is so fucking amazing babe,” he sighs as he strokes your head gently to make up for the last couple of harsh tugs. “Where can I come? In your mouth? Do you want to swallow?”

You nod in response, the best you can while your throat is still filled with his cock, and he mutters a low curse to himself as he pulls out and begins to stroke his length over your outstretched tongue.

Strings of cum land neatly on your tongue, and you’re thankful that Jimin is good at aiming even when he’s in the throes of ecstasy. The bitter taste of him fills your mouth, and you wait till he calms down from his high to look down at you, see the ropes of his semen on your tongue before you make a show of swallowing it all down for him, opening your mouth again to show him your clean tongue.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the fucking death of me, angel,” he reaches down to help you up from your position. “Let me return the favour?”

“As long as my daddy doesn’t find out,” you realise that this turns him on even more when his eyes darken, and his gaze drops to the cross on your chest once more.

“I’m going to break you tonight, babygirl.”

Friday the 13th has never been better.

[alannahaisling]

The day I slipped into a Panic and anxiety attack.

This, this is going to be long winded.

I'm just going to come out and say it. No, I don't want sympathy. This is just me using this particular blog for what it was meant for. A space for me to vent, to be my authentic self. To reflect, to just let things spill out from my mind through my fingers and onto the screen on which you may be reading this.

First things first. The Icons I'll be using here are not rp muns, they are simply my emotions on display. My IRL self as displayed by characters I adore from the Teen Titans fandom.

Ooookay lets get down it.

I help moderate a stream, have been doing it for a while. I became fast friends with the streamer and pull long hours. Roughly 4-5 hours per stream, unless I have class the next day.

To my knowledge, nobody ever had an issue with me. Save the odd person here or there, that may have disagreed with me, but at least they would tell me to my face, and I would shrug it off and move on. It was as simple as that.

My friend, who I love to death, has on more than one occasion had to reassure me that I was actually doing a good job. I lost count how many times I asked if I needed to improve, or if there were any rough areas that may need to change.

A good chunk of the time, they would just kinda raise their voice, and be like. "Damnit, you're good. You're fine." and then try to cheer me up with silly cat pictures. My ultimate kryptonite.

This friend of mine has worked with me for a few years now, talking about deep heavy personal stuff. They know I am medically diagnosed with ptsd, social anxiety, and have been dealing with depression for years. So they're not a stranger to my triggers and I love them for respecting when I need to just be alone, or only want some quality time one on one for a few hours. You hear that you knucklehead? Yeah you, I know you at least read this shit.

Moving on.

On friday, we had a.. bad night of it. Not even an hour in, after happily gathering folks who wanted to play the chosen game with us that night, someone. Who I will call 2P, dumped a huge paragraph, attacking my character and personality as a mod, in my friends private discord DMS.

2P for months, had been telling me to my face, that they saw me as a best friend, that anything I ever said and or did would be safe to do. You know the whole, you can trust me bit. I blindly trusted, and hind sight maybe I shouldn't have.

Meanwhile the entire time, I apparently had been talked about behind my back, negatively for a while? I don't know.

So we paused the stream, and go into another server that's locked down to a limited set of people and discuss it. Friend is, PISSED, but is trying to not yell, and asks me what we should do about it.

In my head I'm just reeling. I'm asking my friend, if I'm a bad mod, if I've fucked up somewhere, I'm totally confused. I can't concentrate, and there's this choking hurt in my chest. One I know all too well.

The feeling of dread. The feeling that I messed up, that I'm useless, and a fraud.

My friend is trying hard to make sure I'm okay, by this point they know, this has fucked with my head. In a huge way. 17- going on 18 years of therapy suddenly going down the drain, spiralling out of control.

They Cut the stream short.

I'm exhausted, tired, feeling beaten. I just say a few things to 2P and leave their discord server, kick them from my private one, and from the one I made for my streamer friend for the game we play with other people. In addition, also a possible person who may cause me issues, because 2P's probably been shit talking me for a few months now.

Friend is arguing on my behalf, another mutual and their friend, instantly demands to get in call. We'll call them... Uh.. Fuck, Tataru , and Estinien for sake of ease. Tataru is having none of it, they are witnessing my typed anxieties. They are hearing our mutual friend, trying very hard to not just *yell*.

2P is dropping the nasty paragraph in other dms now, belonging to other regulars. It's escalating pretty fast. I am now a villain, and a victim in one role, and 2P is also playing the role of victim because my dearest friend just told 2P Off.

"2P, isn't getting it!" My friend is saying with a calm anger. "2P is just constantly going on and on about how (my name) is bad for the stream." Or something to that effect. "They don't even fucking realize how fucking hurtful they are being."

"You need to stop responding." Tataru is saying. "Just, tell the mother fucker, NO and block 2P on everything."

I guess 2P is quickly realizing that they are losing the fight, so they come into my dms. Shit forgot to block them there. I think in my head, and I see them trying to bring the argument to me. They tell me, that I'm handling the situation all wrong.

I don't even respond. I'm tired. I'm just done. I'm mentally slipping back to the days I was mentally and emotionally abused, and gaslit.

GASLIT.

GASLIT!

I block 2P. For my mental health.

Estinien with their calming voice, is outlining streamer etiquette rules. 2P is definitely out of line, as a viewer. If we want, Estinien can pretty much hit up a wider streamer network, and have the name of 2P blacklisted from other communities.

By this point, another regular is talking to my friend asking what is going on. Then another. Slowly, I read through logs my friend has dumped into the 4 person private call.

Then I see it.

"I'll just lie through my teeth to her about why I'm leaving or something. Just don't tell (My name) I said any of this. " In regards to the in game guild My friend and I Co Run.

Silently mutter to myself. Not that the others can hear me, my headsets broken. "Ah, the other shoe has dropped. 2P's been lying to me the whole time. I've been gaslit all over again. No wonder I feel like I do."

Estinien and Tataru get sleepy and go to bed. My friend stays up as long as they can as I sort my head out, trying to timeline events. I'm given logs, screen shots. 2P's been blocked. I lock down my twitter for a day. I lose 20 hours sleep.

I spent those 20 hours of no sleep, asking and apologizing to regulars if 2P has ever talked to them about me. Most of them say NO, and reassure me I'm a good mod, that I make the stream warm, fun, welcoming and comfortable for all kinds of people.

A good friend of mine, who I will ironically call Angellica, because we call each other sis, and I view myself as Eliza from Hamilton. Once had told me to be careful with 2P from the start, because they had a bad vibe about them, is PISSED off, and yeets them out of an in game group chat. "Fuck em, 2P's a troll."

I realize, that Angellica literally stood by and chose my happiness. Cause yeah, I thought 2P was someone I could trust. After what happened though, I realized that I had been mistaken and apologized, To Angellica.

Now 2P is going around seeing who still will consider them friends, or are neutral parties. I was made aware of this because one of them, a mature friend actually asked me what 2P was going on about. So I gave them the run down. They were disgusted with 2P's behavior.

Now a days, 2P takes screen shots of anybody on twitter, that has blocked them and smears their names.

2P still doesn't get it.

But I'm moving on from it.

I have screenshots and logs. But I don't ever plan on releasing them publicly.

So yeah, 2P if you ever come across this, and figure out I'm talking about you, I severed ties with you, because friends don't lie to each other, Friends don't talk behind each others backs, they don't force other good close friends to sit on the *truth* of how you feel. Friends can disagree, and can have different opinions.

But You burned your bridges yourself.

I've always had a three strike ruleset.

One: You lied to my face multiple times.

Two: You pretended to be my friend.

Three: You actively gaslit me, and my friend.

Sooo THAT'S why I cut ties with you. Your behavior after that was just you playing the victim, and none of us 30 plus year olds were just going to sit by and let you have your 20 something year old tantrum.

I bare you no ill will, and I doubt any of us are going to even blast you in an open space like twitter releasing the logs or screen shots. I'm just noping out of this parasocial relationship because that's all it was. I refuse to be used, as a way for people to get close to and use my friend as they work on their passions and goals.

Adieu 2P , nothing was lost the day I walked away, except all the work my friend did to get me out of my isolated shell. But you know what? They'll just pull me back out, and support me 100% You'll never break us up.