#it can be a distressing and long process. and sometimes you end up with side effects you can’t avoid. and that’s the pits. but it’s a pretty

[sushiyuzu]

Hiii, I was wondering if you could make smth with a fem-reader who gets super angry, like destructive when mad bcus she lacks self-control rlly bad (for me I'm mentally ill lol) so when she gets mad her s/o usually walks in to her room destroyed with a crying reader in the corner, especially when she hasn't been taking her meds it ends up like that, and can you do this with Megumi, Yuta, and Sukuna

a safe comfort 🤍

a/n: thank you so much for trusting me with this request! it was my second time receiving and writing a fanfic request, and i truly appreciate the support! please remember to take care of yourself, especially if you're struggling with mental health—your well-being is so important! <3

warning: this story includes themes of mental illness, destructive behavior, and emotional distress. please proceed with caution.

megumi fushiguro

it starts as a small thing, the kind of annoyance you’d usually brush off. but today, something feels different. it’s as if the tension has been building for days, winding tighter and tighter until finally—something snaps. and when it does, you can’t stop yourself.

your hands are trembling as you shove the lamp off your nightstand, the crash of broken glass loud in your ears. the sound echoes in your head, but it doesn’t register—not really. you’re already grabbing at the books on your desk, hurling them across the room as frustration wells up inside you, fierce and unrelenting.

the anger takes over everything. it’s all-consuming, suffocating, like a weight on your chest you can’t escape. and when it’s over, when the room lies in ruins around you, you’re left standing in the middle of it all, gasping for air, your hands still shaking as the reality of what you’ve done hits you.

you drop to the floor, curling into yourself, the tears coming fast and hard. shame burns deep in your chest, the guilt crushing you as you try to breathe through it. you don’t want to be like this—you don’t want to be the person who destroys everything.

you don’t even notice when megumi walks in. he’s always quiet like that, slipping into your space without making a sound. but you know he’s there when you hear his voice—soft, steady, calm.

“hey,” he murmurs, and the sound is so gentle it makes your chest ache. “it’s okay.”

you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, too ashamed of what he must be seeing. you’re a mess. the room’s a mess. but megumi doesn’t seem to care. he steps carefully around the broken glass, the scattered papers, and kneels down beside you without a word.

for a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with you, his presence grounding you in a way that nothing else can. his hand hovers near your shoulder, not quite touching, as if he’s waiting for permission to get closer.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he says softly, his voice filled with quiet reassurance.

you finally lift your head, and the moment your eyes meet his, the tears come faster, harder. you choke on a sob, unable to hold it back any longer, but megumi’s arms are around you before you can even process it. he pulls you into his chest, holding you close, and for a second, you forget about the wreckage around you.

his grip is firm but gentle, his hand running through your hair in soothing strokes. he’s not one to overwhelm you with words—megumi knows that sometimes silence speaks louder. instead, he just holds you, letting you cry against him, offering a quiet strength you can lean on without fear.

“we’ll figure it out,” he says after a while, his voice steady, like a promise. “whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”

you know he means it. with megumi, there are no empty promises. just the quiet certainty that no matter how bad things get, he’s going to stay by your side. and somehow, that makes it a little easier to breathe.

the minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you sink into his embrace. with every ragged breath, you can feel the tension start to dissolve. megumi’s warmth envelops you, a safe haven amidst the storm of emotions raging inside.

as the tears slow, you begin to notice the little things—how his heartbeat thrums steadily against your ear, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air, the gentle way he holds you as if you’re something precious. it’s a comfort that seeps into your bones, reminding you that you’re not alone in this chaos.

“i know it feels overwhelming right now,” he says, his voice low and soothing, “but it doesn’t define you. you’re stronger than this moment.”

you nod against him, trying to internalize his words, but the guilt still lingers like a shadow. “i don’t want to be like this,” you whisper, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“i know,” he replies, pulling back slightly to look you in the eye. there’s a determination in his gaze, a fierce protectiveness that makes your heart swell. “and you’re not. we’ll find a way to help you. just take it one step at a time.”

he wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his touch featherlight yet grounding. in his gaze, you see understanding—an unspoken agreement that you don’t have to carry this burden alone. with megumi beside you, it’s easier to believe that healing is possible, that you can face whatever darkness lies ahead.

as you sit there, the room still in disarray, you realize it’s okay to be broken. it’s okay to ask for help. because with megumi by your side, you know you have a safe space to fall apart and rebuild. you’re not just a collection of shattered pieces; you’re a person, and that person deserves love and understanding—even in the midst of chaos.

“thank you,” you murmur, feeling a glimmer of hope rise within you.

“always,” he replies, a soft smile breaking through the worry etched on his face. “now, let’s clean this up together, okay?”

you nod, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to yourself.

yuta okkotsu

the anger hits you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming, and before you know it, everything around you is falling apart. you’ve tried to hold it back—tried so hard—but the frustration is too much. your hands move on their own, knocking over anything within reach, the sounds of things crashing to the floor blending together in a chaotic blur.

you don’t realize how far you’ve gone until the room is a disaster—books torn from the shelves, clothes scattered across the floor, furniture tipped over in your frenzy. it’s only when the last bit of anger burns out that you see the mess you’ve made, and with it comes the crushing guilt. the shame.

you collapse to the floor, pressing your palms to your face, hiding from the destruction you’ve caused. your heart races in your chest, your breathing uneven as the tears come, slow at first, then uncontrollable.

you don’t hear the door open, don’t realize yuta’s standing there until you feel a presence near you. when he speaks, his voice is so soft, so filled with concern, it breaks your heart.

“hey,” he calls your name gently, kneeling in front of you. “what happened?”

you can’t answer him, can’t even look at him. the shame is too much. you’ve done this again—let yourself lose control, let everything spiral. yuta doesn’t push you for answers, though. he just watches you for a moment, waiting for the right time to step in.

“it’s okay,” he whispers after a while, reaching out carefully, his hand brushing against your arm in a tentative gesture. “i’m not mad. i’m just... worried.”

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, and before you know it, you’re falling into him. yuta catches you easily, pulling you close to his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. he’s warm, gentle, his hands soothing as he rubs slow circles against your back.

“we’ll get through this,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice steady. “whatever’s going on... we’ll handle it together.”

his embrace is firm, but never overwhelming. he holds you just tightly enough to make you feel safe, his chin resting on the top of your head as he lets you cry into his shoulder. yuta’s always been like this—soft, gentle, never pushing too hard but always there when you need him most.

“you don’t have to be afraid of this,” he adds, his voice low. “we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

you nod against him, even though you still feel the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. but with yuta’s arms around you, the world feels just a little bit less overwhelming.

as you pull away slightly, just enough to see his face, you can’t help but notice the concern etched in his features. his eyes search yours, looking for any sign of reassurance. “you didn’t have to hide this from me,” he says softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that has slipped free. “i’m here for you, no matter what.”

the sincerity in his voice ignites something inside you—a flicker of hope amidst the storm of despair. “i just... don’t want to be like this,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i don’t want to keep losing control.”

“it’s okay to feel angry sometimes,” he reassures, his expression unwavering. “but you’re not alone in this. you don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

you take a deep breath, allowing his words to wash over you. it’s a reminder that while this moment feels insurmountable, it doesn’t define you. yuta doesn’t judge you for the chaos you’ve created; instead, he’s offering a lifeline, a way to navigate through the darkness together.

“let’s clean this up,” he suggests, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “but first, can we take a minute? just to breathe?”

you nod again, grateful for his understanding. yuta guides you back to the corner of the room where it feels a bit safer, sitting beside you on the floor amidst the wreckage. he takes a moment to simply breathe with you, matching his inhale and exhale to yours. in those shared breaths, you can feel the tension begin to ease, even if just a little.

“you’re strong, you know,” he says softly, looking at you with such intensity that it warms your heart. “even when it feels like everything’s falling apart, you’re still standing here. that means something.”

his words wrap around you like a warm blanket, grounding you further. you manage a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in your chest. “thank you for being here.”

“always,” he replies, the sincerity in his voice bringing a sense of comfort. “let’s start with one thing at a time. how about we pick up the books first?”

you both begin to clear the room together, moving through the remnants of your outburst. with each item you return to its place, you feel a little more in control, a little less lost. yuta’s presence is steady by your side, and as he laughs softly at the absurdity of some of the mess, you can’t help but join him.

“what a tornado you’ve created,” he teases gently, picking up a shirt and throwing it playfully at you. “it looks like a fashion disaster.”

“hey! don’t make fun of my style,” you retort, a laugh bubbling up despite the heaviness of earlier. the sound feels good, like a small victory over the lingering despair.

“i’d never!” he exclaims, mock-indignant. “your style is unique, and it needs to be respected.”

as you work together, the atmosphere shifts. the heaviness that had settled in your chest begins to lift, and with yuta’s playful banter, you start to find a lightness you thought was lost. you realize that even in moments of chaos, you can create something beautiful—like the bond you share with him.

once the room is tidied up, yuta turns to you, his expression serious again. “remember, it’s okay to ask for help. i’m just a call away, and you don’t have to face anything alone.”

you look at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “i really appreciate you, yuta. for everything.”

“anytime,” he replies, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “let’s take care of each other, okay?”

as you sit together in the aftermath of the storm, you know that with yuta by your side, you’ll find a way through whatever challenges lie ahead. the world feels just a little bit less daunting, and that’s more than enough for now.

ryomen sukuna

it happens fast—too fast for you to stop it. one moment, you’re pacing around the room, frustration boiling inside you like a pressure cooker, and the next, your hands are smashing into everything within reach. you’ve never been able to control it, this anger that builds and builds until it spills over, consuming everything in its path.

furniture crashes to the floor, papers scatter across the room, and the sound of breaking glass rings in your ears. you’ve wrecked the place, torn it apart with your bare hands, and now, standing in the aftermath, all you can feel is the hollow emptiness left behind.

your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, tears blurring your vision as the weight of what you’ve done settles in. you sink down to the floor, curling in on yourself, the world around you too much to handle. the anger is gone now, but the shame remains, thick and suffocating.

then you hear him—sukuna. his voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sharp and unmistakable.

“well, well,” he drawls, his tone laced with amusement. “look at the mess you’ve made.”

you flinch, expecting the worst, but when sukuna steps into the room, there’s no mockery in his eyes. he surveys the damage with a raised brow, but instead of berating you, he simply smirks, as if he finds the whole thing more fascinating than anything else.

“you always did have a flair for destruction,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “but this... this is something else.”

you don’t respond. you can’t. the shame is too heavy, too overwhelming, and the last thing you want is for him to see you like this. but sukuna doesn’t leave. instead, he walks over to you, his boots crunching against the broken glass, and crouches down in front of you.

he tilts his head, his red eyes gleaming with something almost like curiosity. “are you done?”

you nod, though it’s barely a movement. your throat is tight, your eyes stinging with unshed tears, and sukuna just watches you for a moment longer before sighing. without another word, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms, not caring about the mess around him.

you’re too tired to resist, too worn out to push him away, and sukuna just holds you there, his grip firm but not painful. there’s a warmth to him, a strange sort of comfort in the way he wraps his arms around you, despite his usual roughness.

“you’re a disaster,” he mutters, his tone teasing but not unkind. “but i suppose you’re my disaster.”

you don’t know why, but his words make the tears come harder, and before you know it, you’re sobbing against his chest, your body trembling with the force of it. sukuna doesn’t shush you or tell you to stop. he just lets you cry, his hand resting on the back of your head, his fingers gently tangling in your hair.

“let it out,” he says, his voice soft now, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “you’ll feel better after.”

and somehow, with him holding you, the world feels just a little bit less chaotic. sukuna may not be gentle, but in this moment, he’s exactly what you need. the weight of his arms around you, solid and unyielding, keeps you anchored, keeps you from spiraling any further.

he’s not one for soft reassurances or whispered comforts, but his presence alone is enough to ground you. he lets you break down in his arms, lets you be vulnerable without judgment or impatience. there’s something oddly calming about it—being in the presence of someone so powerful, so utterly in control, when you feel like your world is falling apart.

after a long while, when your sobs finally subside, sukuna pulls back slightly. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his red eyes bore into yours, sharp and unwavering.

“feel better?” he asks, his voice low, his expression unreadable.

you nod, not trusting your voice to speak. he studies you for a moment longer before he lets go of your chin, standing up and brushing some debris off his clothes as if none of this bothered him in the slightest.

“next time,” he says, his tone casual, as if offering advice on something trivial, “try not to destroy everything. or at least wait until i’m around to enjoy the show.”

there’s a teasing lilt to his words, and despite yourself, despite everything, a small, tired smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“come on,” sukuna says, offering you his hand to help you up. “let’s get out of here. you need to clear your head.”

you hesitate for only a moment before taking his hand, and he pulls you up effortlessly. as he leads you out of the wreckage of your room, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that, for all his arrogance and rough edges, sukuna’s still here—still willing to stay by your side, no matter how many times you break.

and somehow, with him, that’s enough.

[cherryrainn]

Hi! Can I get some headcanons for Broly (DBS), Frieza, and Raditz accidentally injuring their S/O while they're having a nightmare? Thank you and I hope you're having a good day!

━━ ✧ 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ; broly (dbs) + reader, frieza + reader, raditz + reader

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; ughhh i literally love writing for dragon ball so much thank you and i hope you're having a fantastic day as well!

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; accidental physical harm, injuries, nightmares

𝘽𝙍𝙊𝙇𝙔 ★

broly's nightmares are intense, and sometimes he thrashes around in his sleep without realizing it.

one night, in the midst of a particularly vivid nightmare, broly accidentally flinches and throws a punch, hitting you in the process.

the punch isn't meant for you, but due to broly's sheer strength, it ends up causing some injuries.

you wake up in pain, and broly, still caught in the nightmare, is startled and immediately snaps awake when he sees you hurt.

broly's eyes would widen in horror, and he quickly tries to assess the damage, his usually calm demeanor replaced with genuine concern.

he's not great with words, so he apologizes in his broken earth language, looking genuinely distressed.

broly, despite his fearsome appearance, is surprisingly gentle as he helps you tend to your injuries, doing his best to be careful.

he stays with you until you're comfortable again, and even after, he's visibly upset about what happened.

broly becomes hesitant about sleeping next to you, afraid that he might hurt you again, but he still wants to be close.

over time, you reassure him that you understand it was an accident, and you work together to find ways to prevent it from happening again.

𝙁𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙕𝘼 ★

frieza, despite being a tyrannical space emperor, has his fair share of nightmares.

one night, he's caught in a particularly unsettling dream, and in his sleep, he lashes out with his tail, accidentally hitting you.

frieza wakes up abruptly when he senses you're in pain, his eyes wide with shock as he realizes what happened.

frieza doesn't apologize immediately; instead, he's more focused on making sure you're okay.

he assesses the damage with a mix of concern and irritation, not happy that he inadvertently hurt you.

frieza's not one for verbal apologies, but he makes it up by taking extra care of you while you recover, attending to your needs without being asked.

despite his tough exterior, frieza feels a sense of guilt that lingers long after the incident.

he becomes slightly more cautious about sleeping close to you, but deep down, he still wants to protect you, even in his dreams.

frieza's attempts at comfort might be a bit awkward, but he tries his best, offering a mix of practical help and snarky remarks.

𝙍𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙏𝙕 ★

raditz is known for his warrior spirit, but even he has his nightmares.

he's caught in a particularly intense dream, and in his sleep, raditz accidentally kicks you, caught up in the imaginary battle.

you wake up with a start, clutching your side where raditz's powerful kick landed. the guy's got some strength!

raditz, still half-asleep, quickly realizes what he's done, and his eyes widen in shock and concern.

raditz immediately apologizes, his voice a mix of genuine worry and awkwardness.

he sits next to you, running a hand through his unruly hair, feeling guilty about the unintentional injury.

raditz tries to make it up to you by being extra attentive, fetching whatever you need and offering an assortment of snacks.

raditz is surprisingly gentle as he helps you with any injuries, trying not to feel too bad about the accident.

he's a bit sheepish about sleeping close to you afterward, afraid he might accidentally launch you into orbit or something.

you both learn to laugh about the incident, turning it into a quirky story to share with others.

[cdurhamesq]

When You're Ready...

[Mr. Reed x FtM Trans OC] SFW!!

Summary: Riley is scared to tell his boyfriend the truth about his gender identity. When he lets out a confession he wasn't ready to give, he has to be shown his worst fears are far from reality.

✨Tags: soft angst, emotional hurt/comfort, trans characters, coming out✨

⛔️ TWs: Emotional distress, panic attack, mild self harm, themes of gender dysphoria ⛔️

The late afternoon poured through the blinds, casting warm stripes across the entangled bedsheets.  Riley and Mr. Reed lay intertwined together on top of the covers, their legs like vines, bare skin warm where it touched. The ceiling fan spun lazily above them, humming a quiet rhythm that neither of them spoke over for what seemed like hours.

Riley rested his head against Mr. Reed’s shoulder, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles over his smooth, aged chest. It had been a slow day. A good one. The kind where nothing urgent needed doing and silence felt like something shared, not something empty.

“You know something I’ve always loved about you is the way you seem to find your own little sketchbook on my chest every morning.” Mr. Reed broke the silence with a crackly voice.

Riley hummed at his compliment, continuing his small imaginary brushstrokes along his lover’s skin. “And I love the way you read signs out loud when we’re driving,” Riley said suddenly, his voice soft, eyes half-lidded, chuckling smally.

Mr. Reed smiled. “What?”

“You always do it. Like, every time. Even when it’s obvious,” Riley scrunched his nose and put on his best impression of the old British man in his bed, “‘Left lane ends,’ ‘No outlet. Hmm,’ It’s like your brain can’t not say it.” 

He laughed. “Maybe I just want to make sure you’re paying attention. Sometimes I wonder if you even can drive with how often I’m taking you places.”

Riley smirked. “Whatever. Still love it.”

There was a quiet pause. Mr. Reed’s hand found its way into Riley’s hair, brushing gently through it. He spoke next.

“I love how you never finish your coffee. Even when you say you will.”

“I mean to.”

“I know.”

Another small smile. They were exchanging little truths, and neither of them realized yet that they were dancing on the edge of something bigger.

“I love your neck,” Riley whispered after a beat, placing a soft kiss on his skin. “And your soft skin. And the way your chest feels when I fall asleep on you.” He hesitated. His voice dropped even lower. “I love your shoulders, and the little freckles on them. And your long legs. Your cute little butt.” They both gave quiet laugh, Mr. Reed pinching Riley’s side at his cheekiness.

“That’s cheesier than mine.”

Riley shrugged, lips curled in a smile as he continued. “I love your hands. And your arms. And definitely your voice—” He paused, something subtle shifting in his tone, “—sometimes I wish I almost had your body.”

The words landed with a weight that immediately changed the air between them.

Mr. Reed blinked, a smile still on his lips, but fading fast. “What do you mean?”

Riley froze. His smile disappeared like a switch had been flipped. “Nothing. Forget it. That was stupid. I didn’t mean it.”

Mr. Reed reached out a hand. “Hey, Ri. Wait—”

But Riley was already pulling on the first pair of sweatpants he could find and a dirty hoodie, hurrying to dress. His breath was shallow and a sweaty heat washed over his body.

“Riley—” Mr. Reed tried again, sitting up now, frowning. “Talk to me, please? What is this, what’s got you so shaken?”

“Just—don’t, okay?” Riley’s voice cracked on the last word. “Forget I said anything.”

He left the room, feet padding quick across the wood floor. Mr. Reed sat still for a second, trying to process what had just happened, heart pounding—not in anger, but in confusion and concern, before quickly dressing and following.

When he came around the corner, he found Riley in the living room, nestled in the corner of the couch picking at his nails as he stared off into space. His thumb was tucked under his other fingers, picking at the nail, hard and fast—too fast. Blood welled along the edge of the cuticle.

“Hey,” Mr. Reed said gently. “Stop it, please? You’re hurting yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Riley didn’t look at him.

Mr. Reed stepped forward slowly and reached for his hand. He took it with the same care you’d use to catch a bird—like any sudden move might scare it off. He pressed his thumb gently to Riley’s in an attempt to clot the small wound.

“Please,” he said quietly. “Just talk to me.”

Riley’s jaw tightened. His shoulders trembled.

“I can’t.” 

Mr. Reed didn’t push. He kept his hand wrapped in his and sat himself a foot or so away from his younger lover on the small sofa. Riley didn’t pull away—but he didn’t help either. His body was frozen stiff with tension, shoulders high and rigid.

“I’m not mad,” Mr. Reed said quietly. “And I’m not leaving. Whatever’s going on… I’m not going anywhere.” He took a deep breath, watching for any signs of break. “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on,” he continued, softly. “But I can tell you this—whatever it is, it’s not going to make me leave.”

Riley let out a breath. It sounded more like a scoff. “You say that now.”

“I mean it now.”

“You think you can handle everything,” Riley muttered. His voice was trembling, but there was steel behind it. “But your heart—it’s soft. It’s kind. I don’t want to be the thing that shatters it. Not with my… bullshit.”

There was a long silence.

Mr. Reed looked at him, really looked. Riley’s eyes were glassy and distant, like he was already bracing for goodbye.

“My heart isn't as fragile as you think,” Mr. Reed said, voice low but sure. “It might break a little, yes. But it would mend. Because I love you. And love means staying even when it hurts.”

He reached up, thumb brushing beneath Riley’s eye, catching the tear that had started its slow descent.

“Especially when it hurts,” he added. Mr. Reed watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… quietly folded in on himself, shoulders hitching, breath catching in soft, choked sobs. He leaned into Mr. Reed like he didn’t trust his own weight anymore.

And so Reed held him. No questions. No demands. Just warmth and steadiness and arms that didn’t let go.

+++

After a while, Mr. Reed shifted slightly, trying to lift the weight in the room without breaking the moment. “So,” he said, “I’m just going to take a wild guess and say this isn’t about secretly running a drug cartel.”

Riley let out a wet laugh against his chest.

“Okay…” Mr. Reed went on. “Then could it be a black-market organ thing?” He scrunched his nose, “You know, underground surgery… fake passports? You would have the brain for that sort of thing.” 

“Stop,” Riley said, voice muffled by his shirt, but he was smiling now. Just barely.

“Or I mean, if you’ve been laundering money, I hope you’ve at least set some aside for retirement. I’m not going to keep working till I’m eighty just because your criminal empire has poor financial planning. You’ve got this poor old bloke still going off at sixty-four busting his—”

He paused when he took note of Riley pulling back slightly, eyes red and puffy, but with a trace of amusement breaking through. “You’re an idiot,” he whispered.

Mr. Reed grinned. “Takes one to love one, my darling.”

They sat like that for a long while, the tension thinning out around them, not gone, but less jagged now. Riley didn’t speak the thing he’d buried. Mr. Reed didn’t ask again. He just stayed there, a grounding point, quiet and close.

The secret lived between them still.

But so did the choice to stay.

+++

The evening faded in slowly. The old kitchen lights hummed overhead, soft and yellow against the cool blue outside.  Dinner had been quiet. Not cold—but quieter than usual. Riley picked at his food more than he ate it, the weight of something pressing just behind his eyes.

Mr. Reed didn’t bring up the afternoon right away. He didn’t mention the tears, or the tension, or the way Riley’s voice had broken like thin glass against his chest. Instead, he told a story about the bookstore—something about a kid insisting loudly that grapes were just baby watermelons—and Riley had managed a small, tired smile.

But when they were done with dishes and the silence came back—heavier now that there was nothing to distract them—Mr. Reed leaned against the counter and glanced over at Riley, who was drying his hands, slow and methodical like he was buying time with every swipe of the towel.

He offered Riley a small smile, as he crossed his arms, watching him. He shifted, sitting up slightly. “You doing okay?” he asked.

Riley nodded, too fast. “Yeah.”

Mr. Reed didn’t press. He watched the flicker of the thought across Riley’s face, the way his eyes were somewhere else entirely.

“You’ve been quiet.”

Riley gave a small shrug. “Tired.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Riley paused. “Sure.”

“That thing you said earlier,” Mr. Reed began gently, voice low and almost hesitant. “In bed. About… wanting my body.”

Riley flinched—not visibly, not enough for someone else to notice. But inside, something pulled. Tight. He didn’t look at him.

Mr. Reed kept his tone calm. “I know you said to forget it. But I haven’t. Not because I’m trying to make it a thing. I just… I’ve been thinking about it. And it felt like there was more behind it.”

Riley’s hands had dropped the towel and disappeared into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He was pulling at the fabric with restless fingers, twisting, tugging. “I was just tired,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Riley.”

The way Mr. Reed said it—gentle, not accusatory—made it worse somehow. Riley bit down on the inside of his cheek. He hated this part. The almost part. The crackling space where a truth wanted to be let out but hadn’t figured out how yet.

“I’m not trying to force you to say anything,” Mr. Reed continued, slower now. “I just… I don’t like feeling you pull away from me when I don’t know why.”

That got him.

Riley closed his eyes. His chest ached in that deep, aching way that didn’t come with bruises, but it almost feels like it would be easier if it’d had. He couldn’t explain it—couldn’t unravel everything inside of him into neat little pieces for someone else to carry. But the pain of silence was starting to match the pain of being known.

“It’s not—” he began, then stopped. His throat bobbed with the effort to find the right words. His shoulders rose as he drew in a shaky breath, and then he turned away from the counter, standing now with arms folded tightly across his chest like a shield. His jaw tensed. “I don’t know how to say it,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to,” Mr. Reed said quickly. “Seriously. I’m not trying to pull it out of you.” Mr. Reed didn’t move closer. He didn’t make it heavier. He just waited. Riley felt that patience like a hand reaching out in the dark.

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” Riley finally said, voice rough and unsteady. “How to say it. When. If I should even say it.”

Mr. Reed didn’t speak. Just listened.

Riley’s breath trembled as he forced himself to look up. “Can I ask you something first?”

“Anything.”

He hesitated. God, it would be easier to just spit it out. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He needed something to land on first. Something to tell him the ground wouldn’t fall away when he leapt.

Riley’s hands clenched tighter under his arms. He took one step closer, just enough that the words wouldn't feel like they had to cross a canyon to get where they were going. “If things were different,” Riley said carefully, “if you weren’t with me right now—do you think… you could ever see yourself dating a guy?”

It was a quiet question.

But it came from the center of him—tender and terrified.

Mr. Reed blinked. Not in surprise exactly, but in that slow way someone does when they’re choosing their words carefully. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t rush. He didn’t let silence hang too long, either.

“I think,” he said finally, “if I met someone who made me feel what you make me feel… yeah. I could.”

Riley’s eyes flickered.

“And not in some theoretical way,” Mr. Reed added, voice still soft but stronger now. “Not like a ‘maybe in another life’ thing. If it was real—if it was love—I wouldn’t care what box it came in.”

Riley swallowed hard. His heart was trying to crawl up his throat. It wasn’t everything, not yet—but it was something. A space opening. A door not slamming shut.

He didn’t cry this time. But he didn’t speak either. Mr. Reed didn’t ask anything else. He didn’t push. He just stepped forward and opened his arms.

Riley walked into them without a word.

There, in the hush between words left unsaid, he finally started to believe that maybe… maybe he could speak the rest someday.

And Mr. Reed—he just stayed still.

Close.

Unmoving.

Waiting.

As if to say: When you’re ready, I’m still here. 

[otakusheep15]

Obey Me Flufftober Day 12

Prompt: Art

Pairing: Solomon x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 849

A/n: Shout out to my bestie who is literally obsessed with this old man. I'm only tolerating this man for her. This does get a bit angsty, but I promise it ends with fluff.

Sometimes you forget just how old Solomon is. Yes, you know that he is immortal, but sometimes you just forget what that really entails. Pretty much anytime you bring up a topic from history, he can give you intimate details that only someone who lived through that era would know.

And, apparently, the same applies to physical objects from history, as you discovered when you took him to an art museum. He could genuinely recall seeing these paintings happen in person, and give detailed histories on each of them that most historians wouldn't even know. It was impressive, but it also freaked you out a bit. Just how long as Solomon been alive? How long has he been wandering the Earth by himself, absorbing all of this knowledge?

You kept your quickly darkening thoughts to yourself, not wanting to ruin this trip with your worries. Deep down you did feel for Solomon. You knew he must have been lonely for all of the years he's been alive. But you also knew that he was okay with that, plus he wasn't alone anymore. He had you.

But how long would that last?

The thought shook you, and you had to physically pause to process it. Solomon noticed your sudden absence from his side, and he moved back to where you were standing. Sensing your oncoming distress, he is quick to usher you to a private corner away from prying eyes and ears. Once he is sure you're in a safe area, he sits you down and focusing on helping you breathe.

Finally, after a minute, your mind clears and you stop panicking. You didn't even realize you were panicking until you stopped, and now you just feel sluggish and a little dizzy. Solomon is next to you, giving you just enough distance while also not straying too far away. You look to him in confusing, silently asking him what had happened. He explained that you had frozen up on him, and so he moved the two of you to a more secluded space until you calmed down.

Then, he asks you the same question. What happened to make you panic like that? Was it something he did or said? You reassure him that that wasn't the case. You simply just got lost in your thoughts, and they went a little too far for your liking. Solomon didn't ask you directly, but it's clear he wanted to know more, so you decided to tell him.

You explain that, as he spoke of the various histories of the art around you, you began to think about just how long he's been alive. You thought about how lonely he must have felt for all those centuries, but tried to calm yourself by thinking about how you were with him now. That didn't last long because your brain then provided you with a thought you never wanted to have. You thought of your own mortality, and how you wouldn't have much time with him. Even if it was a lifetime for you, it was barely a drop in the bucket of his life, and that upset you more than you thought it would.

Throughout your explanation, Solomon remained quiet, listening intently until you finished. When you did, he continued on in silence, clearly wanting to take the time to process your words and choose the right thing to say. After what felt like an eternity, Solomon finally figured out what to do. Instead of speaking, he moved closer and wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. It was unexpected but not unwelcome, and you were quick to return the hug.

You sat there for what felt like hours, but could not have been more than a minute. He releases you but holds onto your shoulders, keeping both you and him steady. His gaze pierces into yours, and it's then that he finally speaks. He tells you that you have every right to worry over him, and that he appreciates your concerns. However, you should not swell on such topics, as they will only bring you sadness. He wants you to be happy when you think about him. After all, he only thinks positive things when he thinks of you.

It's a touching moment, as you rarely hear him speak like this. Both of you are on the verge of tears, but you try your best to hold it in. After all, you soon remember exactly where you are, and suddenly this whole situation is much more comedic than it was a few moments ago. Of course this kind of thing would happen to you while on a museum date.

Now that you've officially calmed down and got your anxieties out, Solomon stands and offers you his hand. You accept gratefully, and when you're on your feet, you don't let go. Instead, you use your grip to pull him along, intent to see the rest of the museum with him. He smiles at you as you do so, and you both think to yourselves that, in that moment, you're the luckiest people alive.

[mammonistheman]

Hellloooo! This is my first time requesting, and I hope I write this request okay for you to understand because English isn't my first language.

Could I, by any chance, request Casino Cups Mugman dating headcannons? Perhaps fem! reader who's a bartender at the casino? (a cat maybe as well of your comfortable with that? if not it's okay!)

Hope you have a great day/night!🫶🏻

Guys.. I'm back 😈😈 also thank u for requesting!! I literally love Mugman with all my heart oml and thank you luv, I hope you have a great day/night too!! And that you enjoy my headcanons :3

Head cannons for dating Casino Cups! Mugman, with fem! Bartender! Cat! reader !!

First of all, we all have seen how he reacts and stuff with the thought of Cala Maria—it's absolutely adorable how he swoons and stuff just like that over you, before you two get together.

Before dating, he'll probably be a rambler and it would be a lot harder then his crush on Cala—seeing that you work in the same establishment, and with communication a lot for ur job requirements

I'd say you'd somewhat have the same vibe as Cala, like a mature, godly beautiful kind of thing? Does that make sense? Do ppl know what i'm talking abt 😭😭

But BOOM!! that was before you two were dating, and now that you are I wouldn't say a lot is different.

He'll definitely be a lot easier to talk to as time goes on, usually whenever he can— sitting at the bar and ranting about whatever is on his mind. Cuphead? The card tricks from King Dice? Some customers that were there not so long ago, that Mugman could barely bite his tongue at? At some point the conversation moves along or in a full circle, but trust there will be conversation about a new magic book he got his hands on or something at some point.

You're probably more of a listener and him being the yapper, in a situation where he can spurge all his thoughts out for you to here as your serving drunken customers or cleaning up the cups for the night.

And if it's in my more secluded area for the both of you, he may even get more personal like the details of his life with Elder Kettle—and how it was before the whole 'gamble and contact' situation, leading him to work for the Devil himself.

And everytime he gets reminded, he thinks of how your past must be like—especially with the chip in your upstanding ear and the little scar on your jaw. You basically cover your body from top to bottom otherwise, and he doesn't try to think too much about if you have any other scars underneath your clothes for obvious reasons.

There had been times where Mugman notices your feline tail, a part of him wanting to reach out and feeling the distressed fur but refuses to ever actually do it. He finds your cat features interesting, often when it's your turn to speak he'll take mental notes of the ways your ears twitch if Cuphead is talking in the background—arguing with another employee, or something along those lines.

But when you let him feel the fur of your tail, the first time he goes really silent and just seems to be analysising it, but only a moment before he perks up and begins speaking again—his touch still lingering on your tail.

Cuphead is forever teasing him of the both of you, but overall finds you alright to be around. You don't snitch on his harmless pranks, sometimes you even do pranks with him, and he appreciates the loyalty of keeping your word. You sometimes end up playing pool or a card game with Cuphead from time to time, which is alright if he wasn't so competitive, but funny to see him lose all his attempts against you. The difference between you two is that he's impulsive, while you're controlled on your gambling addiction.

Mugman always appreciates your words of comfort or reassurance, especially during a hard or overwhelming day. With your relationship with Cuphead, whenever he rants about him you drop little hints on both sides that's speeds up the process of whatever petty argument they're in currently.

But sometimes you are mysterious and sometimes unreadable to him, like when you two are alone you can be heartfelt and reassuring—but with those of your colleagues, like King Dice or the Devil, you can almost become withdrawn and only speak when you're spoken to.

It's difficult seeing the change, especially when you're so hard to read but when he brings it up—you don't have an explanation—but it gives him more insight on how to read you well, since he seems to be the only one that can really understand the small signals and ect.

Its a really sweet dynamic, I wouldn't say black cat x golden retriever, but I can say it's something along those lines.

And it's very different when the two of you are drunk, you both become lovedrunk and giddy fools—clinging onto eachother and following alone with Cupheads wild activities, that everyone eventually gets involved in willingly or not.

Overall, I say it would be a more talker x listener kind of thing, but the relationship would be based around pure communication—comfort used of both sides, and the two of you having an incredible understanding of eachother. Outside the Devils deals and Cupheads antics, there's a calm and true connection between you two that would be hard to be similar to anyone else's. There's a deep understanding for eachother, and a connection that makes you two seem almost made for eachother :3

I'm sorry it was short but I'm still trying to get back into writing 😭😭

[impala-dreamer]

Captives of The Court - Chapter Ten

A Supernatural Series

~Strange things are brewing in Connecticut, so Dean and Y/N go check it out. After stumbling through town, they fall into something that’s been going on a very, very long time. Can they put an end to the bloodshed and make it out unscathed or will they need a little help this time?~

Starring Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Series Warnings and Info may be found on the Masterlist Here 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Feelings were one thing, but facts were another, and while Dean Winchester could sometimes be a little compulsive, he wasn’t prone to murder unless absolutely called for.

Y/N convinced him easily enough, however.

For the next two hours, she laid out enough research to fill a textbook and explained her thought process. Sure, it wasn’t a given what was going on- she still wasn’t entirely sure whey the women were being held longer than then men- but everything was leaning, toppling over onto Bronwyn Cromwell.

Well after two a.m., the pair stood over the table, looking down at a papertrail that somehow made sense in Y/N’s head.

Dean chewed his lip.

Y/N’s nose was scrunched up tight.

“And how does the Sheriff and all the other creeps factor in?” he asked, floating a hand over the printouts.

She squinted at the blurry ink, her eyes too tired to even attempt figuring out shapes. “Well, like- they’re super creepy. So they have to be connected somehow.”

Dean frowned and scratched at his jaw. He needed to shave.

“So, basically, you want to round up the entire town and- what- open fire?”

“We do have a machine gun…”

“Do we?”

“We should…”

Dean grinned. “We should.”

She sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “OK, but seriously-”

Dean checked his watch. “I’m calling it.”

“What?” She looked up with a pained, exhausted expression.

“It’s almost three in the morning.” He pivoted and grabbed at her, bending to lock an arm under her knees. “You’re going to bed.”

Y/N yelped and clung to him as her feet left the ground. “But- no- we have work-”

Dean shook his head and eyed her firmly as he walked to the bed. “You need a few hours rest. They’ll still be murdering people in the morning.”

“That doesn’t make me want to sleep, ya know.”

Her head hit the pillow and she sighed with such sweet relaxation that Dean couldn’t help but drop a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep.”

He tried to back away, but she tugged on his shirt.

“Stay.”

He sank down next to her and the next thing either knew it was morning and the birds were chirping, the sun splitting through the gap in the curtains.

“Well, damn.” Y/N sat up and stretched, still tired. “What time is it?”

Yawning, Dean scrubbed at his face and checked his watch. “Nine. Ish.”

“Why do I feel like I got zero sleep?”

Groaning, she laid back down and pressed herself against his chest. He was warm and soft and perfect. Her hand curled around the nape of his neck, fingers brushing over the soft hairs there and tickling lightly.

Dean hummed and ran his hand down her spine, fully waking up. He lifted his head and she met him in the middle with a soft kiss that soon exploded into something deeper.

Sunlight danced across her face as he held her cheek, kissed her lips, tugged the breath from her hot mouth. She shifted to lay on top of him, her warm body pressing down with just enough heft to drive him wild.

She bit his lip.

He grabbed her ass.

She licked at his ear.

He snuck a hand beneath her shirt.

She gasped. “Wait!”

The lightbulb above her head was back and her nose scrunched up. Dean froze, hand on her tit, brow twisted in distress, cock aching.

“What now?”

She sucked in a quick breath and dismounted. She raced back to the table and shuffled through a short stack of newspaper clippings and printed articles.

“I knew it!”

Dean pushed up on his elbows and looked over at her. The sheet was tented and his head was pounding. “Please explain so we can get back to breakfast.”

Y/N perked up. “Oh… breakfast. I could go for some pancakes…”

Dean snapped his fingers. “Focus!”

“Oh! Yeah. Anyway” She clicked a few keys on her laptop and brought up a website she’d been on hours ago. “So, remember when I said that Cromwell sounded familiar and you brushed it off?”

He scoffed. “I didn’t brush it off…”

She cleared her throat. “Ya did. Anyway- I remembered her name because…” Grabbing the laptop, she brought it over to Dean and dropped it on his stomach, narrowly avoiding his still semi-hard erection. “There you go!”

He squinted at the screen. “What am I looking at?”

“You’re looking at a sketch from 1658 of a young woman accused of witchcraft right here in Connecticut. Her name- Bronwyn Cromwell.” Y/N threw her hands up victoriously and high fived the air.

He looked closer. “So she has the same name.”

“She’s the same person!” Y/N grabbed the screen again and zoomed in as best she could. “I know it’s a sketch and a shitty one at that, but look- she looks the same. Descriptions match. Witch. Creepy. Beautiful. It’s her!”

“If it is, she’d be over-” He paused to count on his fingers. “Over three hundred and sixty years old.”

“Mhm.” She clicked through to another page. “And look at this- that damned coroner-”

Dean held up a finger. “Chief Medical Examiner.”

“Whatever- she’s in here too.” Her eyes lit up and she pointed to Alice Parker’s name on a list of accusers. “Aha! See?”

He licked his lips while clicking pieces together. “I bet if you kept going you’d find the Sheriff too.”

“Betcha I would. And a whole bunch of other folks in town.”

Dean sighed and pushed himself up against the headboard, clearly not on the road to fornication. He smoothed the sheet over his lap.

“You think they’re all in on it? Murdering couples for fun?”

She shrugged. “Fun or…”

“Or?”

“Or I don’t know yet, but…” She looked off at nothing as her memory churned. “Bronwyn did say something to me. Something like ‘love is power’ or ‘creation is power’ or something like that.”

“Sounds like we’ve got a winner.”

She nodded. “Yep.”

Dean leaned in and caught her attention, waving his hand in front of her face. “Hey, babe- wanna go gank a witch with me?”

She laughed and turned, sighing as she looked into his gorgeous green eyes. “Mr. Winchester, I would love nothing more.” She leaned in for a kiss and then paused. “Except maybe an omelet. Or a waffle, something. I’m starving.”

Dean grinned and held her face in both hands. “That’s why you’re my girl.”

His wink was arousing but her stomach was growling.

The sex could wait.

Guns blazing is a glorious fantasy.

In reality, there’s a lot of nervous energy flowing through your fingers making it hard to even load the gun let alone kick open doors and blast away the enemy.

Y/N was burning with nerves but it was a good burn. It helped her move forward, kept her from thinking too much. Thinking time was over, the plan was in place and it was time to execute it.

She grit her teeth and took a deep breath, letting her shoulders settle and her heels dig into the soft earth behind Cromwell Manor.

Dean stood a few paces away, a half smile cocked on his lips as he nodded to her. They were ready.

The house was a stunning testament to colonial design. Sitting on three acres of land in front of what used to be an apple orchard, the Manor boasted an exterior of cobbled stone and giant windows that looked out over an empty field and flourishing trees.

Y/N looked up at the house. Lights were on upstairs, but that didn’t mean much; danger could be anywhere. She held her breath and clicked the safety off on her pistol.

“You good?” Dean asked, voice low and teasing even before a fight.

She grinned. “What, you want some background music? Because I can pull up Sheeran in like two seconds-”

He laughed. “No, no. We’re good.” He exhaled a calming breath and drew up his shoulders, ready to enter the back door. “Remind me to reintroduce you to some good music when we get home. Think you need a little AC/DC refresher.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and moved closer to the door. “Well, Dean…” She looked back over her shoulder and winked, lifting her right hand to her forehead. “For those about to rock- we salute you.”

There was an expectation when she kicked the door open. A tingle of fear of being met immediately by a murderous and alluring witch who was sure to take them out. As it was, the back door led into an empty mud room which led further into a large but equally as empty kitchen.

They searched the length of the first floor, guns raised, focus strong, but they found nothing.

In the center of the house was a staircase and a door, one leading up and the other down. Lights leaked out from beneath the cellar door and the top of the stairs.

Dean looked up then down, then at Y/N. “Flip you for it?”

She looked at the door and shivered. “I’m not really in the mood for spiders today. Can you just- please?”

He cringed. “Spiders?”

“Well, I mean, maybe there aren’t, I just don’t want to find out.”

“And you think I do?”

She crossed behind him to get to the stairs, slapping his ass as she went. “Man up, Winchester.”

He thumbed the door knob and groaned. “Damnit.”

As Dean slid into the basement, Y/N took each stair carefully lest it creak and give her away. The wood was solid, however, and she bounded up to the top without making a single sound.

An antique lamp was lit at the far end of the hallway and she used it as her guide as she inspected the rooms around her. Each door was locked save one at the very end of the house,

Gun on the ready, she pressed her back against the door and slowly pushed it open. Lamplight spilled inside and Y/N peeked through the gap, finding absolutely nothing. Quickly, she slipped inside and scanned the shadows, but there was only an empty bed with an old wooden chest at the end. It was clean but smelled a bit musty, as if no one had entered in a long while.

“Well, shit.”

Just for good measure, she checked under the bed and behind the door. All was clear.

“This sucks.”

She gave the other rooms another try as she headed back to the stairs, even pressed her ear to one, thinking she’d heard breathing inside. She was alone on the second floor.

Back down the staircase, she held her breath, listening for Dean, but the house was still, silent as death.

“Dean?” Her whisper carried down the steps, but there was no answer. “Damnit, I don’t wanna go down there…”

Pulse throbbing in her ears, Y/N opened the cellar door a crack and peered down into the shadows.

“Dean?”

An annoyed growl rumbled in her throat and she pushed the door open.

“You better be hurt,” she sighed, taking the first step down into the unknown. “OK, not really, but dammit…”

There was light glowing at the bottom of the steps, flickering like candlelight, but it wasn’t enough to calm her fear, and Y/N grit her teeth as she descended the exceptionally long staircase.

Halfway down, she hissed his name. “Dean!”

He answered, calling back with worry in his voice. “Y/N! Down here!”

A spec of relief flickered in her soul but it was overcome by trepidation. Quickly, and with her gun raised, she rushed down the stairs. Her boots hit concrete and her breath jammed in her chest.

The cellar was huge, dug out by hand the length of the house and beyond. The far wall split and Y/N could see what appeared to be a trio of tunnels, curving underground and into parts unknown. She cursed herself for not bringing a flashlight, but the tunnels would have to wait.

“Dean?”

She spun towards the front of the house and saw him. He stood perfectly still and content by Bronwyn’s side. His stare was wide and blank, and a faint purple mist curled around his head, only visible as the candles behind him flickered.

“What the fuck?”

Y/N took a step and Bronwyn held up a hand, begging her patience.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” the witch said, smiling too perfectly for having a gun aimed at her head. Her golden locks were down and lightly curled, cascading like a waterfall past her bare shoulders. Her dress was pure white with strands of gold woven into the flowing fabric. Her breasts were bound and high, perfectly round and enticing. She cocked a brown and smiled again. “We’ve been waiting for you, Y/N.”

Her stomach lurched and her fingers tightened around the pistol. She eyed Dean but he was a blank slate, expressionless and clearly entranced.

“What did you do to him?” she yelled, voice echoing down into the tunnels.

Bronwyn lifted her right hand and waved it slowly in front of Dean’s face. He swayed with it, following the motion of her gesture.

“He’s fine,” she replied. “For now.”

“You put a spell on him.” Y/N sneered, body tensing to painful levels.

The witch nodded. “I did, yes. It’s kind of what I do.” She laughed and turned towards Dean. She ran her fingers down his stubbled cheek and he pulled in a slow, deep breath, his chest heaving, his lips parting slightly. “Don’t worry, he’s quite content right now.”

Y/N shivered. “Let him go.”

She sucked her teeth and lay her hand on Dean’s shoulder, polished nails gleaming against the canvas jacket. “No. I won’t be letting him go. Or you. You’re both mine now. Well, ours.” She grinned. “But you don’t need to worry about all that.” She tapped Dean’s shoulder and he sighed heavily, eyes fluttering. “You don’t need to worry about anything anymore. That’s the fun part.” Pushing up on her toes, Bronwyn whispered in Dean’s ear and his eyes jolted open. “Go on, Dean,” she sang, “get her for me.”

He slid from her side and stalked across the concrete floor, boots thudding loudly with each step.

Y/N had only seconds to make a decision. Even on his worst day, there was no way she could overpower Dean or even avoid his attack. Cursed and commanded, there was absolutely no chance she would get away. There was only one choice.

She cocked her gun.

She squinted, taking aim at the witch.

She exhaled slowly and pulled the trigger.

Dean was too fast, rushing at her and grabbing her arm in his rough fist. The gun went off but the aim was straight up and Y/N ducked as dust rained down on them, dislodged by the shot.

“Dean! Damnit, wake up!”

She tried to wrestle from his grasp, but he was too big, too strong. He twisted her wrist until the gun fell and she bit back a scream.

Within seconds, her arms were pinned behind her back and Dean had her locked in place, one hand holding her wrists, the other pressing down on the back of her neck.

She kicked backwards but missed his legs.

“Come on, Dean, snap out of it!”

Bronwyn laughed, amused by Y/N’s vigor. “He’s not going to snap out of anything,” she said. “He’s lost in a fog of good dreams, trust me. I wouldn’t have it any other way. No need for pain before death. Better to do things with an air of civility and kindness, don’t you think?”

Y/N raged, struggling against Dean’s grip, but it was pointless. She lifted her gaze to the witch and spat. “What do you want?”

Bronwyn shrugged lightly. “You, of course. Well, both of you. We need two or it doesn’t work.”

“What doesn’t work?” Y/N asked, trying to calm down and think. If she kept the bitch talking, she might be able to work out a way to get free.

“The spell.” Bronwyn crooked her finger. “Bring her here.”

Dean took a step, forcing Y/N to walk towards the witch. She tried to stand still, willing herself to be a statue, but he bumped her forward without much effort.

“What kind of spell? Maybe I can help- I’ve got some… experience with witchy shit.”

Bronwyn met them in the middle and held up her hand. Dean stopped instantly.

“Oh, but you are going to help,” the witch informed her. “I can’t do this without you two. There needs to be two, always. And the fact that you’re already in love does help move things along a bit. So, thank you for that.”

Y/N sneered. “You’re welcome.”

“I knew the moment you rolled into town that you’d be perfect. I didn’t expect you both to be so… beautiful though. That is a bonus.” Gray eyes glowed as they traipsed across Y/N’s face and Bronwyn reached out to cup her cheek.

Y/N growled and twisted away from her touch. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

The witch grit her teeth. “Hold her still, Dean.”

Calloused fingers tangled in Y/N’s hair and Dean tugged, holding her head straight.

“Get off of me!”

Bronwyn slid a single finger down Y/N’s cheek and the touch was like silk. Warmth spread across her face and Y/N exhaled slowly, her struggle against Dean’s grip easing.

“Dean!”

“Repletus libidine, mente captus…”

The whisper flowed through Y/N’s mind and Bronwyn’s eyes seemed rimmed in purple light. She snapped her fingers and Y/N’s body went slack in Dean’s arms. He held her upright as the spell worked on her, sinking into her bones. She stared into the witch’s eyes as the air filled with purple smoke that smelled like fresh, warm bread and melting butter. It infiltrated her senses and Y/N smiled, letting go of the fight. She felt so strangely good; aroused and hungry. She drooped against Dean and he scooped her up into his arms as her eyes fluttered closed.

Bronwyn clapped gleefully, happy with herself. “Perfect! Now we can begin.”

[oops-its-a-fanwork]

H!Sans and H!Papyrus: Skull and Sugar

Today it's Horror! Sans and Papyrus as legendary pokémon! Learn more about their home and the discovery of their fossils here! :)

Now Sans and Papyrus are from this long ancestral line of protector-pokémon, with them being the new generation. However, their family tree seems to be growing some odd branches…

You see, no one has realized that some of the excavated fossils actually belonged to the ancient ancestors of the legendary guardians! Not only that, but these two truly were pokémon of legend, having protected people during the cave-in of the underground and unfortunately having met their end doing so.   The names and legacies of these pokémon are unfortunately lost to time, but recently, a group of scientists has requested temporary access to the fossils for more accurate time dating, cross referencing their database with their DNA in order to determine their species, and collecting data on the fossils with equipment the museum doesn't have. You know, normal nerd stuff scientific proceedings.

  What they didn't tell the museum staff however, is that these fossils would be part of a new fossil revival program. You see, when a fossil has lethal physical damage they can't be revived using the normal method as the damage would be perfectly recreated and would kill the poor pokémon a second time. Therefore, an experimental method was used: a mix of cloning and the revival procedure used for other fossils. And to their credit: it worked! 

  However, the panic of waking up in a place that looks like nothing you’ve ever seen before, combined with your last vague but pressing memory being the panic of a crumbling cave system and the urgency of mass evacuation, meant that Skull immediately broke out of containment, broke everyone else out of containment and then rounded everyone up for evacuation outside. Once everyone was accounted for they took off, and instinctively the guardians found the place their species once called home: Mount Ebott. The group burst in from the top and hasn't left since.

Skull has trouble speaking fluently and has a somewhat slower perception, and the hole in his skull is,,, well, it's in a weird state, obviously. It's not healed (it CAN’T be healed), but it's not an open wound he could die from due to the revival process. He clearly has some memory problems due to both the revival process and the wound, and he needs to be stopped from scratching at it often, as it seems to be a subconscious move.    The distress from it gradually lessens as he settles into his new environment: he has his brother by his side, and though his memories are few and confusing they are still a great comfort to him. It does however influence his ability to transform: where Sans and Papyrus can use their magic to mimic pokémon and humans near perfectly, Skull does not have stable control of his magic due to the wound, resulting in skeletal versions of whatever he's trying to mimic. It's... an adjustment, for sure. Luckily the pokémon instinctively trust him a bit, so he won them over despite everything. Speaking of which:   Skull loves observing humans and pokémon as much as the others of his species, and although he misses the abundance/presence of people and the holidays, he gets fulfillment out of observing and interacting with the ghost pokémon (who seem to recognise him somehow?) and the new species that migrated into the mountain after the incident. They are just as curious about him as he is about them, and his gentle giant demeanor is immediately rewarded by lots of attention from the younger pokémon.

Sugar used to help set up celebrations with everyone. Therefore, he knows the place like the back of his hand!! Or rather knew. Where Skull sometimes has trouble remembering the past, Sugar has trouble not remembering it. He keeps feeling like something should be right here only to find the spot empty or unreachable. He could be of great help to archeologists, but it is very confusing for him. Due to both this and his somewhat poor eyesight, the pokémon surrounding him help him navigate and are very supportive.   They tried to help him recreate some of the older celebrations, but it just isn’t the same without human aid. They all got an A+ for effort though! Which means handmade festival treats for everyone! He knows recipes long gone, but he can't always get every ingredient. What he does manage to make (sometimes with help, as his body does not always do what he wants) is loved by most, except for the bitter medicines he sometimes ends up making.   Sugar can regulate his magic much better than Skull can but he, too, has some wonkiness to his transformations. Namely, his form seems just a little stretched, and if you look closely, you can make out some crystal formations on the left side of whatever creature he’s decided to become. As he practices the transformations more it becomes subtle like glitter, but it definitely is still there. Despite all of this, he actually tends to use a skeletal form as well, in solidarity to his brother. “Look, we match!”  Their memories are hazy, but they definitely remember evacuating everyone from the mountain as it rumbled around them. Any movement in the rocks sets them on edge, and they check the walls for cracks whenever they can. Not finding evidence of current instabilities in the main area combined with the tales of the pokémon currently living there helps to soothe their nerves bit by bit.   Eventually, when they are calmer, they start recalling earlier, far calmer memories: bouts of laughter between siblings, the pride of the youngins who pass their trials, the kindness of a flower handed to them in good faith. And also the rougher, but necessary things: Tussling with each other, mending wounds with bitter recipes, distracting upset children with stories. The rush of fighting off alpha pokémon who encroach on their territory. Sleeping the tiredness off in a warm corner of the temple.   The brothers are quite content now, living with each other and the next generation of pokémon in their glowing mountain. Life is good.

[awesometrollingman10]

Understanding the Spectrum

[Image ID:

Understanding The Spectrum. An arrow points to a masculine-presenting character, reading “Introduced by Archie!” Archie is holding his hands together. His eyebrows are raised, and he’s not making eye contact2 with the reader. He has small, oval-shaped glasses; his short hair is parted down the middle, and he wears a shirt with a folded collar over long pants. Throughout the comic, Archie does not make eye contact with the reader2 and does not open his mouth. Dialogue bubbles from Archie read, “Language can be confusing for me. It takes me longer than the average person to process conversations. And although I am good at making conversation, it can take me longer than normal to respond.” Next image. Archie holds up a finger to make a point, but he’s looking down at the floor2. His mouth is closed. He says, “But, neurotypical people find language confusing too. And it can lead to some people misperceiving who I am.” Plaintext reads, “I hear alot of people misinterpreting or misusing the term ‘autism spectrum’. So for Autism Acceptance week, I decided to make a comic to help explain the term and how it affects things. Archie is one of the reasons I became so interested/knowledgeable in autism (I like to go all out in research when I write characters for comics n such) so he’s the one presenting everything! The rest of the comic is under the cut, because I don’t want to spam ^^;” Next image. Archie appears confident. He raises his eyebrows, closes his eyes, and raises his pointer finger higher. His mouth is in the shape of an upside-down V. He says, “That is why I would like to explain what is meant by ‘spectrum’ when we talk about the ‘autistic spectrum’”.

Next image. Archie says, “Sometimes when people think of this word, they think of the autism spectrum as being like this:” He points up at a spectrum in the shape of a line. The spectrum ranges from a pink “Not autistic” point on the left to a purple “Very autistic” label on the right. He says, “A very linear ‘spectrum’ which gives the impression that people range from being ‘a little autistic’ to ‘very autistic’.” On the other side of the image, Archie changes to a questioning pose and says, “Hm. How can you be ‘a little autistic’? It’s that vague language that I always find confusing.”

Next image. Archie is being held up by his shirt by a giant hand, with the forearm out of frame. Archie dangles over the same “line” spectrum as before, from pink to purple. The hand looks like it’s deciding where to place Archie on the spectrum. Archie says, “The problem with thinking of the spectrum in this way, is that a perception of an autistic person also becomes linear.” The person on the other side of the hand says, “You’re only a little autistic, Archie.” Archie says, “Hm. I still don’t understand, can you be less vague?” The hand says, “You’re able to have a normal conversation with me and act pretty normal! You’re not severely autistic.”

Next panel. Archie still does not make eye contact with the reader. He puts his hands up to the sides of his head, “...And so you see, if someone thinks you’re on a ‘low end’ of this spectrum, this often happens:” Next panel: The hand’s forearm is still out of frame. The hand pushes Archie toward hand-drawn words on the right side. Each hand-drawn word has a font choice that is either intimidating, confusing, hard-to-read, disorganized, or a combination of each. The person with the hand says, “Archie, you can handle all of this just fine, you’re not that autistic.” From top to bottom, each hand-drawn phrase reads, “New situations.” “Too much noise.” “Lack of routine.” “Smart” in all caps. “Tight clothing.” “Loud conversations, all at once.”1 “Don’t stim” in all caps. “Don’t fidget.” “Be more organized!”

Next image. Archie bobs his head back and forth and covers his ears in distress. He has speech bubbles, bordered with increasing squiggliness that read, “Ah.” “Ahh-” “Aah!” “Aaah!” Text behind him in all caps is covered beneath the other text on the screen. Orange speech bubbles from off-screen read, “How can you be tired? Everyone does this every day. You’re just being lazy.” Another bubble reads, “Wow you’re being so over dramatic, get over it!”

Next panel. The same hand holds Archie up by his shirt over the same linear spectrum from “not autistic” to “very autistic.” The person with the hand says, “Woah, you’re more autistic than I thought. I’m gonna re-label you on this spectrum…Since you’re very autistic, I don’t think you should have a job, just to be safe, y’know?” Archie still does not make eye contact, and speaks to the reader, “And if you’re seen as being on the ‘high end’ of this spectrum – it can lead to some people labeling you as being incapable of doing anything at all.”

Next image. Archie has a confident posture. He says, “The truth is though, someone who is neurodiverse in some areas of their brain, will also be no different to your average person in other areas of their brain.” He is holding his hand out to a circular graph of the autism spectrum: “You see, the autistic spectrum looks something more like this.” The circular graph looks like a color map, with each color corresponding to different phrases that surround it. Next image. Archie is pointing up at the same color map, still not making eye contact2 with the reader. Arrows point to different coordinates on the circular graph. An arrow points to the phrases that surround the circle: “The spectrum consists of many different ‘traits’ or way in which the brain processes information.” These traits are, “language,” “motor skills,” “sensory,” “executive function,” and “perception.” Another arrow points at a coordinate in the “motor skills” category, closer – lower – to the center: “Some traits create difficulties in everyday life (hence being diagnosed).” A third arrow points somewhere farther – higher – than the center: “But also many traits are useful in everyday life.”

Next panel. Archie says, “Each person with autism will have a set of traits all in different areas of the spectrum. The areas where they don’t have a trait will function no differently to a neurotypical brain, but may be affected by circumstances. For example, I am good at making conversation (language), but I get sensory overload in loud and crowded spaces, which then makes conversation very hard for me.”

Archie says, “And so, another autistic person might be very happy in loud crowds, but find conversation hard in general.” Archie is pointing at an example of an autistic person. They are holding the color map like they’re turning a wheel. Their eyes are closed, but they’re still facing the audience. They look happy. They say, “You could say I’m just a real ‘party animal’!”

Next panel. Archie holds his hands together like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands2. He continues not to make eye contact with the audience2. He says, “You can see with this spectrum then, that not every autistic person has ‘savant skills’. Or that someone who can’t communicate verbally might still understand what you’re saying, but just need a different way to communicate, such as sign language.” Next panel. Archie holds up a finger to make a point, but it looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his other hand2. He says, “It shows how not every autistic person acts the same way, and we are all capable of varying strengths and weaknesses.”

Next image. Archie smiles and holds his hands close to himself, in an expression of hope. He says, “Sometimes, if someone is diagnosed as being ‘on the spectrum’, and informs another person of this, it’s so that they can get some understanding and respect for the things they are unable to do. But, it is also so that they can cooperate with the world around them- so that they can be the best in the things they can do.

Next panel. Archie continues looking hopeful, and holds the color wheel in his hands. “I hope that in the future, people will better understand the term ‘spectrum’ and continue to respect the differences and similarities we all share in how we experience the world.”

What follows is the plaintext at the bottom of the post: Last but not least, some explanation for anyone unfamiliar with some of the language used...

Neurotypical = the majority/average brain, in context to this a non-autistic person

Neurodiverse = the opposite, but some people use this term to refer to more then just autism, things such as dyslexia, adhd etc.

savant skills = being extremely good in one area of thinking, I guess the most common one is being extremely good at math and having a perfect memory.

Also, my depiction of ‘the spectrum’ is simplified (to be used as a starting point/simple explanation), if you look into it there are alot of different traits or factors that make up the spectrum!

Edit: Loads of people have asked if they can have a print version of this comic so they can share around schools/family/friends, so here’s a high quality print version (pdf):

I fixed the spelling mistakes too, thank you for pointing them out XD Thank you sooo much for sharing around, I’m real happy the comic has been helpful/been so well received!

./End image ID]

Image ID’er’s notes: 1 This phrase is hard to read. 2 Another classic symptom of ASD.

Understanding The Spectrum

I hear alot of people misinterpreting or misusing the term ‘autism spectrum’. So for Autism Acceptance week, I decided to make a comic to help explain the term and how it affects things. Archie is one of the reasons I became so interested/knowledgeable in autism (I like to go all out in research when I write characters for comics n such) so he’s the one presenting everything! The rest of the comic is under the cut, because I don’t want to spam ^^;

Keep reading

[russeliarat]

I wanna talk about my mental health and how it's changed over the years and what I want for the future. Sorta just coz it's my blog and I can but also coz I want to have it written down somewhere. Digest my own thoughts before I write it down somewhere more private for the day I decide to get it professionally looked into (I don't trust getting help from adults and mental health professionals much).

Won't go too much into it since it's incredibly personal but I had a very traumatic childhood. I was bullied from the age of about 7 or 8 until 16 because of having severe eczema. Kids spun it in very cruel ways. It meant I held a lot of anxiety and trust issues as a little kid and they only got worse as I grew up. Paired with (what I now realise is medium support needs) autism, its a bit of a recipe for disaster due to the bullying and deteriorating friendships being spurred on by poor social management and misunderstandings.

Around 15 to 16, my last year of highschool, I was finally able to see an in-training CAHMS therapist through my school. Once a week every Friday I believe right before lunch for an hour. The focus was on anxiety but she diagnosed me with severe generalised anxiety, severe social anxiety, and severe depression (that last one because I answered truthfully to the question 'have you tried to hurt yourself or end your life?'). She also said she believes I was autistic but couldn't officially diagnose me with it or send for a referral since she was still in training and not allowed to tackle anything other than stuff thay could be fixed with cognitive behavioural therapy. So on paper, I got diagnosed with severe general and social anxiety as well as severe depression. I personally think the anxiety has come to a point of paranoia now, though. Come to find out when I passed the letter to my mother, she has since "lost it". She also denies ever getting it. My parents have always been very against the idea of anything being wrong with me so I suspect she threw it away.

This is a major pain in the ass because it means I'm gonna have to go through the whole process of another diagnosis again but through my actual GP when I go to university in order for me to have access to mental health resources. Lovely. Thanks, mother.

In addition to this, I've also had a lot a dissociation clouding my life. It causes extreme memory loss, time blindness, confusion about my identity and thoughts, excessive day dreaming and getting lost in my head (which doesn't help the hyperfixation side of my autism), and a lot of distress. I know for a damn fucking fact I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. Why? Coz I can fucking see and hear the cunts in our shared brain now that I've been allowed to have awareness. It gives a lot more context to why I exist the way I do but also a lot of distress through implications. I believe it comes from complex-PTSD caused by intense childhood bullying in our formative years and an unstable (and possibly emotionally neglectful) household. I cannot have a single dream that doesn't involve the trauma. I have a high chance each night of having nightmares due to it.

My partner also thinks I may have some form of schizoaffective disorder, specifically Bipolar type. He's seen me go through what he thinks are delusions. I don't think they can be medically classed as delusions personally because they don't last very long. I think it's just mania caused by just Bipolar Disorder personally. There's also the auditory hallucinations (hearing non-verbal noises like gunshots, thudding, sometimes short snippets of music) and tactile hallucinations (feeling greasy or wet, feeling bugs on my skin, feeling taps on my back or shoulders). I'm not sure what to think of those. Those are all on the maybe pile to look at later.

Intrusive thoughts have also become a big issue lately. Violence/aggression, self-harm, morals in my relationships, etc. Things I can't control and bring me great discomfort and distress. Stuff I'd never do willingly in a million years. I'm not sure where it comes from but it's been around since I was a kid. I'm a very meek person because of it - I'm scared that if I give in to one morally grey thought (like hurting someone whos hurt me), I'll give in to all of them and then bad things will happen. I try to avoid all of it if I can, distract myself a lot. The dissociation and memory issues helps a lot with it but never makes them go away.

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

So yeah. There's my main issues atm: Autism, PTSD, DID (as well as possibly derealisation-depersonalisation disorder?), severe Generalised Anxiety Disorder and severe Social Anxiety Disorder (though is possibly Paranoia), severe Depression, Bipolar Disorder, Intrusive Thoughts, and reoccurring Nightmares. Hurray...

I think my game plan will need to be started once I go to university. I should register a new GP there since I'll be living in a different city quite far from home for 3-4 years, probably get a check-up for physical issues (which is something I struggle with, particularly with mobility issues and pain), then ask to book an appointment for official diagnoses for my anxiety disorders, maybe my depression, and maybe bring up the dissociation?? With the latter one, I don't see the need to bring up the DID in any way, just mention how bad my dissociation is to see if I can get any therapies to help it. I'll probably try to get an autism assessment too but that takes literally forever and I may even get told I'm not autistic because I don't tend to openly display it to others (except for close friends and my partner).

Maybe from there, I can start to get diagnosed/help for other issues such as the intrusive thoughts or the nightmares.

[abboudlawfirm-tucson]

What Is the Biggest Compensation Payout?

When you’re hurt because of someone else’s actions—whether in a car crash, a slip and fall, or due to a defective product—it’s only natural to wonder: what’s the biggest compensation payout someone has ever received? And more importantly: how much could you potentially receive? Let’s break that down in simple terms so you can better understand your options, your rights, and what influences high-value settlements or verdicts.

Understanding Big Payouts in Personal Injury Cases

The biggest compensation payouts often make headlines, especially when they involve major corporations, medical malpractice, or severe long-term harm. These cases aren’t just about money—they reflect the real damage done to a person’s life.

Big verdicts tend to fall under three main categories:

Catastrophic injuries (like paralysis or brain trauma)

Wrongful death

Class action lawsuits against companies for dangerous products or negligence

Injury settlements can reach millions—even billions—depending on the facts. For example:

In one historic case, a jury awarded over $2 billion to a couple exposed to harmful chemicals.

A medical malpractice lawsuit resulted in a $229 million payout for a birth injury that caused cerebral palsy.

A product liability case involving a defective car design ended in a $150 million verdict.

Now, while these extreme examples are rare, they prove that courts can and do award substantial damages—especially when someone's life is forever changed.

What Goes Into a Large Settlement?

Big payouts aren’t random—they’re calculated based on how much the person has suffered and will continue to suffer. Here’s what generally adds up to large compensation amounts:

Medical expenses, both current and future

Lost income or loss of earning potential

Pain and suffering—physical pain, emotional distress, and mental anguish

Loss of quality of life

Punitive damages, in cases where the at-fault party was reckless or acted intentionally

These factors get reviewed by insurance companies, attorneys, and sometimes a jury if your case goes to trial. That’s why it’s so important to have a knowledgeable legal team on your side to make sure nothing is missed.

Why Slip and Fall Accidents Can Still Lead to Significant Payouts

You might think slip and fall injuries aren’t serious—but they can be. Broken hips, spinal cord injuries, and traumatic brain injuries from falls can permanently affect your ability to work or care for yourself. These cases, when handled by a skilled attorney, can lead to high-value settlements, especially if the property owner was clearly negligent.

What Role Does a Personal Injury Attorney Play?

If you're trying to secure a fair settlement, working with a Personal Injury Attorney isn’t just helpful—it’s necessary.

Your attorney investigates your case, gathers medical records, negotiates with insurance companies, and if needed, takes your case to court. They understand how to calculate not just what you’ve already lost—but what you will continue to lose, and they use that to fight for the compensation you deserve.

When you’re up against a big company or insurance provider, you need someone who knows how to push back effectively. That’s where a trusted legal team like Abboud Law Firm comes in.

Your Advocate for Maximum Compensation

When you're trying to recover—physically, emotionally, and financially—you shouldn’t have to navigate complex legal processes on your own. That’s where Abboud Law Firm stands out.

With years of experience helping people just like you, Abboud Law Firm knows what it takes to build a solid case and pursue maximum compensation. They don’t just settle for quick wins—they aim for real justice.

Whether your injury came from a slip and fall, vehicle accident, or workplace mishap, they approach every case with focus, care, and proven strategies that work.

Factors That Could Limit or Increase Your Compensation

Not every case ends with a multi-million-dollar payout—but certain factors could raise or lower your total settlement:

May Increase Compensation:

Permanent disability or disfigurement

Extensive medical treatment or surgeries

Loss of ability to work in the future

Strong evidence of negligence or wrongdoing

May Limit Compensation:

Shared fault (if you were partially responsible for the accident)

Lack of clear medical documentation

Delays in seeking treatment or reporting the injury

That’s why having a Personal Injury Attorney in your corner—someone who knows how to build a compelling case—is one of the smartest moves you can make.

Do You Have a High-Value Case?

Every case is unique, and no attorney can promise a specific payout. But if your injury has changed your daily life, cost you thousands in medical bills, or impacted your ability to work or enjoy life, it’s worth speaking to an attorney to explore your legal options.

Even if you’re unsure whether your case qualifies for compensation, a free consultation with a law firm can give you clarity and peace of mind.

Speak to a Personal Injury Attorney in Tucson, Arizona Today

If you’ve suffered an injury and want to explore how much compensation you could be entitled to, don’t wait.

Contact the Abboud Law Firm in Tucson, Arizona, for a free initial consultation. You’ll talk directly with a skilled legal team that knows what it takes to win. No pressure. Just honest guidance on your next steps.

Call Abboud Law Firm today to speak with a Personal Injury Attorney in Tucson, Arizona, and take the first step toward the compensation you deserve.

[abboudlawfirm-omaha]

What is the Process of a Personal Accident Claim?

Accidents happen. Sometimes, they’re just a minor inconvenience—like spilling your morning coffee. Other times, they turn your entire world upside down. If you’ve been injured due to someone else’s negligence, you may be entitled to a personal accident claim.

But let’s be honest—navigating the claims process can feel like trying to assemble furniture without the instructions. You know the pieces should fit together, but you have no idea where to start. That’s why we’re breaking it all down, step by step, so you know exactly what to expect.

Seeking Medical Attention

The first and most important thing? Get checked out. You might think you’re okay—adrenaline has a sneaky way of masking pain—but injuries like whiplash, concussions, or internal bleeding can take hours or even days to fully show up.

Plus, your medical records will play a huge role in your claim. If you wait too long, insurance companies might argue that your injuries weren’t serious—or worse, unrelated to the accident. So, get checked, follow the doctor’s advice, and keep a copy of every medical document.

Reporting the Accident

Depending on the type of accident, you’ll need to report it to the right authorities. Here’s a quick guide:

Car accident? Call the police. A police report is a goldmine for your claim.

Work injury? Report it to your employer and file a workers' compensation claim.

Slip and fall? Notify the property owner or manager.

DUI accident? Law enforcement will document the details, which could strengthen your case.

The goal is to create an official record of the incident while details are fresh. The longer you wait, the harder it gets to prove what actually happened.

Gathering Evidence

Now, let’s talk about evidence. The more you have, the stronger your claim. Here’s what helps:

Photos and Videos: Take pictures of your injuries, vehicle damage, accident scene, and any relevant road conditions or hazards.

Witness Statements: If anyone saw what happened, get their contact information. Neutral witnesses can be a game-changer.

Official Reports: This includes police reports, medical records, and any correspondence with insurance companies.

Personal Notes: Write down everything while it’s fresh—how the accident happened, the pain you’re feeling, missed workdays, and emotional distress.

A personal injury attorney will help you gather everything and present it in a way that strengthens your claim.

Filing an Insurance Claim

Here’s where things get... interesting. Insurance companies don’t exactly roll out the red carpet when it comes to paying claims. Their goal is to settle for as little as possible.

When filing your claim, you’ll need to provide:

Your medical records

Proof of lost wages

Repair estimates (for vehicle damage)

Evidence of pain and suffering (if applicable)

Never accept the first settlement offer without reviewing it with an attorney. Initial offers are usually low, hoping you'll take the money and move on.

Negotiating Your Settlement

This part can be frustrating. The insurance company will often downplay your injuries, question your medical treatment, or even shift the blame.

That’s where having a lawyer makes a difference. They’ll handle negotiations, push back against lowball offers, and ensure you get fair compensation.

Negotiations can take weeks or even months, but patience pays off. If a reasonable settlement isn’t reached, you might need to take things further.

Filing a Lawsuit

If negotiations hit a dead end, your attorney may advise filing a lawsuit. This doesn’t mean you’ll end up in court—many cases settle before trial—but it does put pressure on the insurance company.

The lawsuit process includes:

Filing the complaint: A legal document outlining your case and damages.

Discovery phase: Both sides exchange evidence, conduct depositions, and gather expert testimonies.

Mediation or settlement talks: Many cases resolve here before trial.

Trial (if necessary): If no agreement is reached, a judge or jury will decide your case.

While lawsuits take longer, they can lead to much higher compensation, especially if the insurance company was acting in bad faith.

Receiving Your Compensation

Once a settlement is reached (or a verdict is given in court), it’s time to get paid. Compensation can cover:

Medical expenses (past and future)

Lost wages and future earning potential

Pain and suffering

Property damage

Emotional distress

However, the timeline for receiving funds varies. In settlement cases, you could get your payment in weeks. If the case went to trial, appeals could delay payment for months.

Final Thoughts

Short answer? Yes. The claims process is tricky, and insurance companies have teams of lawyers working to minimize payouts. Having an attorney levels the playing field.

The Abboud Law Firm specializes in helping accident victims navigate the claims process, ensuring they get the compensation they deserve.

Don't Wait to Seek the Support You Need

If you or a loved one has been injured in an accident, now is the time to take action. The legal clock is ticking, and the sooner you start, the stronger your case will be. Reach out to Abboud Law Firm today and let us fight for your rightful compensation.

[qnewsau]

Building your family – where do you start?

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/building-your-family-where-do-you-start/

Building your family – where do you start?

Sam Everingham talks with two parents Tim and JC who created their family through surrogacy. Each had experience with both local and international processes. They, along with six other gay dads will share much more of the ups and downs of the process at Growing Families Sydney Conference on June 22-23, 2024.

JC and his husband completed their first journey in Australia. In this environment, intended parents need to independently find a suitable egg donor, surrogate and coordinate with IVF clinics.

Navigating multiple aspects of the journey independently can be challenging and time-consuming. Domestically, the most challenging part is finding an egg donor and surrogate – pure luck plays a big role. But luck was on their side.

For domestic surrogacy, their newborn’s birth certificate listed their surrogate as the legal parent. It took six months and a court order, for a new birth certificate to be issued.

For JC’s second surrogacy journey – everyone seems to want a sibling – they chose Argentina, given it offers a more centralized and supported process through specialized agencies who manage all aspects of the journey, including identifying egg donors and surrogates, plus IVF clinic coordination.

Buenos Aires legal framework simplified things by directly placing the intended parents’ names on the first birth certificate. To JC this seemed ‘a more straightforward path’ than the Australian model.

“In Australia,” JC reflects, “the process took us approximately two years from getting an egg donor up to the child’s birth whilst in Argentina it took us one year and three months from signing up with an agency up to the child’s birth.

“In Argentina the most challenging part was the long travel and no family support at the … birth.”

What advice would JC offer?

“Prioritise open and honest communication throughout …. Building a strong and trusting relationship with the agency or any parties involved is crucial for navigating the complexities and emotional challenges

“Also, you just need to trust the process and never forget to enjoy the journey.”

Tim and his husband Sasha

Tim and his husband Sasha (pictured above) started by joining Surrogacy Australia’s Support Service Two months after submitting their profile, their surrogate Lizzy came into their lives.

He triple-checked just to make sure it wasn’t a scam – everything happened so quickly. As a team, they attended the 2022 Growing Family Conference where they decided to work with an IVF doctor – from the US. Here they also selected a counsellor and surrogacy lawyer.

So how did Tim and his partner support their surrogate without an agency?

Tim discovered that their surrogate’s needs changed at various stages of the pregnancy. Her support needs were, he admits “even more complicated” in the months following birth.

“Sometimes, it might take you a few attempts to work out how to best support your surrogate,” he advises.

“Know that surrogates often don’t want to bother their intended parents and try to do as much as they can before asking for help. The goal is to avoid that and build a network for her to rely on.”

“There are times when IPs can’t physically be there to help, so make sure you can pay for help such as cleaning, takeaway food, childcare or transportation”.

“From first introduction to the birth…, our journey took less than two years. However, (a domestic) journey doesn’t end at childbirth. ….your surrogate will need you more than ever during the ‘fourth trimester’”. How long that lasts depends on your surrogate’s recovery.

For Tim, the most challenging part was seeing their surrogate in pain or distress due to pregnancy. “You often wish you can take the pain for her but you can’t.”

Advice Tim would give to those contemplating domestic surrogacy? “There are many ways of finding a surrogate. Social media, ASC Facebook group, family connections, friends, Surrogacy Australia. Pursue every one of them.

“Help sometimes comes from the most unexpected place.”

Growing Families’ Sydney Conference on June 22-23

Meet with Tim and JC as well as plenty of other parents, surrogates, donors, and local and international experts at Growing Families’ June conference in Sydney.

Teens brought up by gay dads will speak about their sense of self and disclosure. Surrogates and donors will speak about selecting recipients and support expectations.

For more information click this link.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[art-of-manliness]

A Guide to Shrinking Levi’s 501 Shrink-to-Fit Jeans

I wouldn’t call myself a denim-head, but I do appreciate a quality pair of jeans. A type of jeans that I’ve experimented with in the past is raw denim jeans. What’s raw denim? Most denim jeans you buy today have been pre-washed and treated with a process called “sanforization” to soften up the fabric, reduce shrinkage, and prevent indigo dye from rubbing off. Raw denim (sometimes called “dry denim”) jeans are simply jeans made from denim that hasn’t gone through this prewash/treatment process. The big selling point of raw denim jeans is that they start their life as a blank canvas that becomes personalized to you. While mass-produced jeans come with faux fading and distressing that is the same for every single pair, with raw denim, the fading and distressing are created by your body type and how you wear them. Also, the fit of raw denim becomes tailored to your body. Each pair ends up being uniquely yours, with a more custom look and feel. If you want to try out raw denim jeans without breaking the bank, Levi’s 501 Shrink-to-Fit (STF) jeans can’t be beat. (Note: I don’t have any affiliation with Levis, nor is this a sponsored post.) They’re an American classic (your grandpa probably owned a pair of Levi’s 501s), they only cost $50 on Amazon, and they’ll last you a long time. Because 501 Shrink-to-Fit jeans haven’t been pre-washed, you have to go through a special sizing and shrinking process to end up with the right fit.  Levi’s provides some guidelines on how to go about this process. I followed them with mixed results.  Below, I share what those results were and the tips I gleaned from my experiment in shrinking Levi’s 501 STF jeans. How to Size Your Levi’s 501 Shrink-to-Fit Jeans The key to getting the right fit with Levi’s 501 Shrink-to-Fit jeans lies in understanding the sizing process and accounting for the shrinkage that will occur. The size you choose will depend on the shrinking process you plan to use. Levi’s provides the following option-dependent guidelines:  * For the old-school technique, buy true to size in the waist and two sizes up in length. Wear them in the tub and keep them on to dry. * For those who want to machine wash and dry the jeans, we recommend ordering up. For your waist, increase 1″ for sizes 27″-36″, 2″ for 38″-48″, and 3″ for 50″ and up. And for your inseam, increase 3″ for sizes 27″-34″ and 4″ for 36″ and up. * For purists who like their denim unwashed, no need to size up. Buy them true to size. To figure out which sizing/shrinking method provided the best results, I tried all three methods. Below are the results. The Old-School Shrink-to-Fit Method The old-school shrink-to-fit method requires you to buy 501s that are true to size in the waist and two sizes up in length. You then wear them in the tub and leave them on to dry. I usually wear 33×32 in jeans, so this method required me to purchase 501s that are 33×34. Instead of simply wearing the jeans in the tub, I opted for a more involved process that I’ve seen on other menswear sites that people claimed provided equal results without having to wear soaking wet jeans and drip indigo dye around the house. Here’s a step-by-step guide: Step 1: Soak the Jeans Fill your bathtub up with hot water. Turn the jeans inside out to minimize the amount of indigo dye lost during the soaking process. Place the jeans in the tub, ensuring the hot water fully covers them. Allow the jeans to soak for approximately 45 minutes to an hour.  The indigo dye that came off during the soak. Step 2: Hang Dry Remove the jeans from the tub and hang them up in the shower. Let them hang until they’re no longer dripping with water. Step 3: Towel Dry Once your jeans have drip-dried, place them horizontally on the floor between two towels. Step on the towel-covered jeans to extract as much water as you can. Flip the jeans right side out and repeat stepping on the towels. Step 4: Wear Your Damp Jeans While the jeans are still damp, it’s time to put them on and let them… http://dlvr.it/T3RNQn

[dramaticshcwcase]

Man I really do want to answer all the flicker questions but my memory is so iffy that I can't remember most of the flickers I've had. I flicker from almost everything I engage with to some extent...

I think for #2 it would be Yuuta from that one Enstars fangame specifically. It's so niche. Has anyone else ever flickered from it? I have no idea. I was just consumed by such intense guilt for what happened during it that even now, years later, it still feels iffy listening to one of 2wink's songs because of a part it played in the fangame. And it lasted a week, which is actually on the short side when it comes to most of my more-intense flickers, it was just... a very vivid week.

For #4, maybe Shun Tsukiuta? Like I also had a kintype crisis with him before it became more of a temporary soulbond situation (or. something like that. I don't even know at this point) because he's like, a demon in a human body, kind of, who remembers his past lives and those he loved in them; his whole situation is very kin-like, to be honest.

For #5, the Red King. If you know you know. But it was a pretty distressing flicker to have because of the type of media it's from, where I was genuinely concerned how I'd process and discuss it if it ended up not being a flicker, and what categories it fit in exactly.

For #12, possibly Aki ZENO...? I'm waffling on whether it's a good answer or not. I do think we're quite similar, in that we can both be quiet and analytical, and very excitable and have a love for examining living beings, yet also sometimes don't consider our own well-being when we're trying to help others. And have a questionable taste in clothing.

For #15, probably Izaya. I still don't understand if he's a fictotype or not. It's complicated and very long-lasting in my brain, recurring and often in the background. For now I've tentatively labeled whatever's going on with him as a constel, but... I seriously don't know. Izaya could probably also double as an answer to #8.

But also? #15 could be almost every flicker I've had. I get intense kintype crises for flickers due to their strength.

I guess I'll add onto this if I can remember any of the other flickers I've had that would fit the prompts... My memory is failing me.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi, so first of all I would say this is actually kind of urgent because it's really distressing me and I have nowhere else to go to and no one who can help me, but I wouldn't classify it as an emergency or crisis situation. I've just been having a very difficult time dealing with this, it's extremely disruptive and general advice like "Name 5 things you can see" or "Just do yoga" isn't cutting it right now, my job is at risk, and I feel like if things don't improve then I might have a breakdown.

Trigger Warning: Binge eating, weight mentions, chronically ill mom, verbal abuse

Looking for: Advice for my specific situation

Currently cannot access therapy, nor do I have access to caregivers/nurses or family members who can help me.

My mom is permanently bed-ridden. She has binge eating episodes but doesn't want to get help. She is overweight but the problem doesn't have to do with her weight so much as the mental impacts it has on her, like feeling of a loss of control during binge episodes, getting into dramatic moods during binging, and it's almost like a drug (she'll be going through a 'high' during the binge and then once it's over with she goes back to being unhappy and taking things out on people). When other people criticize her, she automatically thinks what they are criticizing is her weight rather than the mental aspect and how wildly she behaves, and she'll say things like "They shouldn't talk about me when they weigh even more than I do!"

Because my mom cannot get out of bed, I'm the one who has to cook everything for her. She starts asking for strange foods (like wanting me to cook things for her that aren't usual for us to eat, or that I've never prepared before). And she'll start adding on more and more details, so I can't really 'meal prep' because it always ends up becoming unpredictable. For example, today, first she wanted me to make her meat with rice as a side dish, which I'd consider a normal/simple meal. But then she kept adding on more instructions and by the end of everything it turned into a total different meal that I had to cook 5 additional things in order to complete. She comes up with the instructions spontaneously ("Oh, I want you to make this other food and then add it to the dish, too!") so it interrupts the cooking process and a lot of time also gets wasted reheating food since (quote from her) "I need to have my food very hot."

Afterwards, she will ask for an equally complicated dessert, have me make hot drinks for her, sometimes bring her more food, and literally keep eating and eating for HOURS, until she gets bored of it. And she's even admitted herself that she "does it out of gluttony" so she's not even hungry anymore at that point and admits it but she doesn't care that she is making me go through a lot of work just to appease her.

Now. The problem is that I have a job where I have to concentrate in front of the computer... and it feels extremely impossible to concentrate in front of the computer for long periods of time when shit like this keeps going on constantly. I had a friend suggest setting boundaries with my mom, but clearly my friend does NOT know what my mom is like (my mom doesn't give a fuck basically because she thinks everything needs to revolve around her). Also, I am chronically ill myself both physically and mentally, so often times, I'll be feeling completely drained. My mom is verbally abusive and says "My food takes no time to make, you just don't want to work and then blame everything on me, you are so ungrateful and useless." and constantly mocks me for supposedly not doing enough for her even though I don't know how many other people would spend hours every single day making ridiculous foods their mom starts craving on a whim. I am fucking tired to death, I am sorry but I just feel like I am reaching my limit with this. Like I woke up so motivated to work today and now it's all gone to shit because I'm TIRED and my mom doesn't even appreciate what I do, she gets pissed off at me for not looking happier while helping her, she thinks my job is stupid anyway, and God I'm just sick of all this.

Anon with the binge-eating bed-ridden mom again. Want to add an update. TW self harm. So last night I thought my mom was asleep and I ate something, which turned out to be like the greatest sin I could have committed and threw her into a rage. She got mad at me because I ate without telling her (whenever I eat or drink something, the "house rule" is to always offer my food/drink to her, which I would've done as normal except I thought she was asleep and didn't want to wake her up). She began screaming at me, and when I said "I didn't know you were awake, can I bring you food?" she refused it. But even though she didn't want the food she kept bringing me down while I was eating, to the point I felt so sick I couldn't finish my food. I know you might suggest "Go eat in another room" but I share a room with my mom in order to help her, and I really didn't think it would blow into a big deal because like I said I was sure she was asleep. I may try to avoid her while eating my own meals from now on even when I think she's asleep but yeah at the time I just didn't think of it because I would've never guessed this was coming. Because of all the guilt-tripping and feeling like a shitty person, I self harmed before I fell asleep. (And also today because of the next thing I'm going to describe) Thought my mom might be over it today, but actually she was even angrier than before, she was still screaming at me, telling me I'm trying to imitate girls who disrespect their moms because I think it's cool/trendy to act disrespectful and that eating my without offering it to her was a sign of disrespect to her (EVEN THOUGH LIKE I KEEP FUCKING SAYING, I WOULD HAVE OFFERED IF I THOUGHT SHE WAS AWAKE). And then after yelling at me, she jumped straight into making me cook things for her to binge eat again, and I still haven't been able to get the work for my job done, which is due very soon. It's not getting better for me.

Hi anon,

I'm genuinely sorry to hear about the situation you're in. It sounds super controlling and exhausting to live with. It's incredibly frustrating to hear about the way your mom treats you. It's normal not to offer food to people and it doesn't make you disrespectful. It sounds like she puts such incredibly high expectations on you that it's costing your mental and physical health, and it sounds like it's also starting to encroach on your job responsibilities as well.

Perhaps this is something you've considered, but is there anyone else you could stay with? It sounds like this environment is extremely toxic and taking a toll on your mental health. I know you said you don't classify this as an emergency or crisis situation, but for the sake of your health it is worth thinking of it that way. It may be worth involving the authorities here. I'm not usually so straightforward but you cannot afford to live like this. Here is a list of international crisis resources, ranging from suicide to domestic violence and child abuse.

If anyone has any suggestions or insight, I strongly recommend sharing your input here. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

@your-url-is-problematic

Okay so I can't properly tag you but here's my best attempt at answering right now.

1) creating distance where I can between myself and the biggest of my feelings. Sometimes in my less healthy moments, this looks like dissociation or "turning off everything" so I have the space and time to do what needs doing without feeling all kinds of ways about it. Sometimes it looks like using my med management routine to it's fullest including as needed stuff to support my neuro chemistry through pain. Sometimes it looks like cycling through distress tolerance exercises long enough to think through what I'm feeling and what it means to me. Sometimes it looks like failing to do any of those things and having a nice little mental breakdown because something mildly inconvenient happened, then once I've cried myself out, saying to myself "**yes**, all those feelings are valid, **and** I still need to get back into my routine again, so what would it look like to make that happen?"

2) learning about cognitive distortions, what they feel like for me specifically in my brain, and what it means about my life when they start to appear more often than usual. I tend towards all or nothing thinking and mind reading when I feel emotionally unwelcome/rejected by people I care about. I tend towards filtering when I'm experiencing depression or self-harming/self-blaming cognitions. And I tend towards emotional reasoning when I am feeling afraid or anxious. Knowing these things helps me not only identify what is going on in my head, but what feelings may be accompanying those thoughts, whether those thoughts have rational, irrational, or misdirected triggers, and how I want to actually move forward.

3) learn to ask myself what I need and what it could look like to seek out having that need met, either by myself or by someone else. Am I eating enough? (Rarely) Have I been managing my pain effectively? (LMAO) Have I been communicating with my partner when I feel overwhelmed or when I need help? (Making progress!) Have I been seeking supervision at work? (Usually) Have I talked to my friends recently? (Forming habits here!) When was the last time I experienced joy/appreciation/comfort? (Try to set aside time daily, but at least weekly - mmmm potato leek soup...) Basically, I try to live my life for myself and my well-being as an active process, recognizing that it can be easy to lose track of myself in amongst my commitments and responsibilities.

4) Ask for help, even when I don't know what help I need yet. This is....hard. It doesn't feel good as someone with a history of being condemned for needing things from others, let alone a history of being taken advantage of by those I needed to rely on. I often feel afraid and angry and confused when I try to do this, and end up having to do a lot of self-soothing/distress tolerance in order to get through it. I usually cry a lot after. It feels a little safer every time it works out though, and the more I get to a place where I know who I can trust with these asks and who I can't, the better I feel about it.

5) this sounds really silly and it kinda is but like. I bought a bunch of double sided whiteboards and hung them up in every room of my home with a short list of routine care tasks that room needs to stay clean and cared for. It lets me wander into a room, pick a task randomly off the list, do it, and wander out, rather than say going on hours long cleaning binges that leave me exhausted and overwhelmed. Or conversely going months without cleaning anything because I can't think enough about how to break down the project. I used goblin tools to make the lists even which was really nice.

6) sometimes you just don't manage to navigate things effectively. You try your best. You put your all into a situation. And it still FUCKING SUCKS. So you sit down. You cry a lot. If you're me, you maybe chain smoke an entire pack of cigarettes. You smoke some weed and howl at the moon. And when you're too tired to move, you go to bed and sleep it all off. Then you wake up the next day and you make a 1, 2, 3 list. The 1st, 2nd, and 3rd thing you need to do in order to feel like you have your shit together that day. Start with thing 1. If you finish, move to thing 2. If you finish that, move to thing 3. Go to sleep and promise yourself you'll keep taking steps forward tomorrow. If at any point you get stuck, take a break, take a nap, and let the place you got stuck become your new thing two the next day. Thing one is to tell yourself that you're content you got as far as you did, and you are allowed to be at peace with that. Repeat this as needed until you feel capable of "continuing to walk" without having to force one foot in front of the other.

7) forgive yourself for the past. Even when you don't. Forgiveness is a skill. Keep doing it until it feels like it's working.

8) grief is made up of many feelings, and you have to let yourself feel all of them in order to get through it. Sometimes that means letting yourself cry. Letting yourself scream and yell and tear up photos of people who hurt you. Letting yourself go numb for a bit. Letting yourself laugh. Letting yourself want to be wanted. It's gonna look different for everyone, and it's gonna even look different for you each time. That's okay. Feel, breathe, say "yes, and"

9) i have been in weekly therapy since I was 17. I don't think I would be here without that. I have had bad therapists, amazing therapists, and therapists that were...fine, I guess. I learned how to take what I needed from the process, regardless of what they brought to the table. Being able to talk through my thought processes with someone, and get feedback (even when that feedback was shitty lmao) has always been really helpful for me in getting through bad times, and making the most of good ones. It helps that I have a lot of knowledge about the process and field at this point in my life (in and out of mental health care at various levels of intensity for nearly 20yrs now, on top of my work in the field) and know more or less how to create a safe therapeutic relationship for myself, including managing my risk of being. You know. Forcibly institutionalized again.

10) I am fortunate enough to be highly educated and qualified in a field that is desperate for staffing, and got hired immediately out of my graduate program by an employer that actually pays a living wage in the current economy. It demands an intense amount of work and commitment from me, but in exchange, my wife gets to be stay-at-home and focus on caring for the house, her unpaid labor organizing work and hobbies that she is passionate about, and caring for needs of mine that I have trouble tracking and keeping up with. We are literally a one-income family, with my wife essentially only working small gigs for pin money. It's not always easy, and we do sometimes find ourselves pretty tightly budgeted, but as compared to households where everyone is desperately working as many hours as possible for too little money with not enough time for themselves let alone each other, it would be pretty fucking disrespectful of me not to acknowledge how much of what I do for myself stems from the fact that I can pay my family's bills on my own income without working more than 40hrs/wk. Getting to this point wasn't easy? I was literally homeless and living in a tent for part of my last year of MSW lol, but like. Being capable of doing it at all is a privilege, and it has opened the door to even more privileges in life. I think a lot about how important it is for people to have access to college educations, technical training programs/apprenticeships, and other professional skills development opportunities in order to allow for economic enfranchisement. We all kinda get shoved towards the same "high value" degrees these days if we talking about whether or not we want to pursue career development, but there are so many fields whose numbers are dwindling at alarming rates that mean newcomers are able to negotiate their value really effectively (think plumbers, electricians, and other skilled laborers, certain medical care fields, etc). Unionization helps enhance this and support you in advocating for better labor conditions and compensation. I'm really proud of my wife and her work on labor advocacy, as much as I am on the work we do together for community care. It's important to me that one of the things my job allows me to do is support her in her work despite its tendency towards being uhhhhhhh real badly paid. It would be a lot harder for us to contribute our (and especially her) time to labor work the way we do if we relied on her to use her time to earn our bill money.

I don't know if this all is really an answer. It's....certainly not going to be everyone's answer. Life isn't perfect for me, and there have been several really difficult days recently that I have struggled with. I have especially been struggling lately with feelings of anger and frustration that certain people from my past who did me harm seem to have "gotten away with it" which is.....something I'm processing. Like. To go back to the cognitive distortion piece, I don't think that's really true? Like it *feels* true because "oh well nobody knows what they did to me and they get to go through their life not being perceived as someone who did me real, violent, and intentional harm" but like. That's not the same thing as "getting away with it. For one thing....I got away from them. Far away. They can't hurt me any more than they already have. Isn't that consequences enough? My life is absolutely better than it ever was while they were in it, and isn't "living well the best revenge"? I'm not the person I was anymore when they hurt me, in that I have better boundaries with those in my life, a stronger sense of self, and a clearer understanding of what it means to be truly loved. Maybe that's enough? Sometimes my wife still has to hold me when I wake up screaming from the nightmares, and I usually can't get back to sleep after but....I usually sleep without them. That doesn't always feel like enough, but sleep has always been hard for me, so any progress feels like a blessing.

So. I guess the answer is that. I don't really *deal* with the unfairness of it all. I just. I acknowledge it. I let myself be angry about it. I grieve it. Sometimes, that's enough. And sometimes it's not. I just. I don't expect it to be any more or less than it can be for me. I forgive myself for the moments when I *do* expect too much or too little of myself and my situation. I remind myself that it is *always* my choice whether or not I keep putting one step in front of the other. I don't *have* to. I *choose* to. Every time. If I'm not ready to make that choice, I don't. But I do ask myself what it will take to get to the point of being ready. Because while, yeah, it's my choice. The alternative is giving up. And I learned a long time ago that, suicidal as I have been in my life, final endings, giving up, it's not....me. I want to be me. And to do that I have to keep going. Even if that scares me sometimes.

Sometimes you choose to want to keep living. To keep walking. Even when that's hard. Even when it hurts. Even when you can't begin to picture what that will look like yet. You choose. You walk. And you realize that everything in life is temporary. The good, the bad, the beautiful, the sorrowful, the difficult, the straightforward. Nothing lasts forever, and whatever slows your steps will pass one day too. Your feelings about each moment matter, but ultimately they're temporary too. You'll experience other emotions someday, and then the same ones again, and then more emotions still. Life and the world keep turning, whether we like it or not, and we can choose to keep walking, we can choose our pace, we can choose when to take a break, and when to mourn our pain and griefs, and when to celebrate our victories and joys. Life is many things. Unfair is only one of them.

You know. I have been through a lot in my life. I have had a lot of horrible things done to me by people I trusted. I have had to start over more times than is fair. I have often heard the voice in my head sob and scream and kick it's feet that it's just not fair how hard I have to work and how much suffering I have to endure to get the bare fucking minimum of life needs met and I have held that inner tantrumming child in my arms and reassured it that of course, they're right, it's not fair, it never was, it never could be. And yet we must hold hands together and walk on anyway.

So we do. We sniffle and cry and keep walking, hand in un-fucking-loveable hand for years. Decades at this point. Sometimes things get better. Sometimes they get bad again. Sometimes we have to sit down and take a break to cry some more before we can keep walking because it hurts so much and it's so unfair. But we do keep walking.

I don't know what the future holds for me, and I can't pretend the present is perfect. The night terrors still wake me up crying and begging some days when I wish I could think myself healed and unaffected. Sometimes I hold child-me close and whisper that we'll be okay, as long as we're together, even though I have no idea if it's true.

I am not the people who hurt me though. I am still kind. I am still walking. I am still growing and changing. I am still loved even when being loved is hard. I still love even when loving feels dangerous. I still accept and learn my flaws, my vulnerabilities, my needs, my strengths, my blindspots, my selfhood, my wholeness, even when those things are hard to sit with. I have learned what it means to ask for and accept help, and what it means for help to be the kind you need, not always the kind you want. I am learning to find peace in my imperfections while still seeking and striving for growth.

I don't know who I will be ten years from now. But I know that it's important to me that I be a continuation of myself. That I never leave myself behind even as I never hold myself stagnant. I am learning what it means to dance through that kind of change, that kind of forgiveness, that kind of hope.

I wish I had real answers to life. I don't. But I know that I will wake up tomorrow, climb to my feet, dust off my walking boots, and take a few more steps into the future.