#look what ADHD gets y'all

[terr-hedgehog]

Get re-Caligula'ed.

A happy birthday to the Impera album !!

[jasontoddssuper]

My friend @leo-thecactus said this Jason Todd design 'looks like a dorito but dead inside'.True and Real

[reginaofdoctorwho]

talking to a guy and he’s like “how the fuck do you have all this shit memorized?” my brother in christ i memorized a movie as a kid because i got bored during state tests

[mosspapi]

Hm. I have a bad feeling that I'm already starting another flare. Does anyone want to kill me instead.

[bratzforchris]

Ways to Say "I Love You", C. Sturniolo

Summary: Five times you knew Chris better than himself, and the one time you didn't<3

Pairing: Chris x feminine reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking/hangover (y'all i know he's techinally not of legal drinking age in the USA. this is fiction)

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I genuinely need this man in my life so bad actually. Anyways, enjoy some tooth rotting fluff. XOXO<3

1

“Bruh,” Chris groaned, leaning his head back against the couch cushions. “I feel like shit and I don’t even know why.”

You looked up from your phone, eyeing your boyfriend up and down. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he whined, rolling off the couch dramatically. “My head hurts and I’m tired.”

You sat up from the gray couch, standing over Chris, who was sprawled on the floor, pouting and whining. You definitely felt bad for him, but at the same time, you knew Chris tended to over dramatize the smallest, most random things. “Do you have a fever?” 

Chris shook his head, rolling from his back to his stomach, but not getting off the floor. “I don’t feel sick, but I just feel like horse shit and I don’t know why.”

You observed him for a moment, before an idea dawned on you. Having ADHD, Chris tended to forget to eat and drink, so hyperfixated on something or too many thoughts in his head blocking the reminders to fuel his body. He was medicated for it, which both helped and hurt. Sometimes, he would be able to focus enough to remember his meals, but other times, the meds would dissipate his hunger cues. “When was the last time you had something to eat or drink?”

“Hmmm,” Chris’s blue eyes looked thoughtful for a moment before he shrugged. “Dunno. Which is weird because I’ve usually had like, six Pepsis by now, but we’re out and Matt didn’t go to the grocery store yesterday, so…I don’t know.”

You shook your head with a soft chuckle, helping your boyfriend up off the floor. “I think that might be the problem, sweetheart. Is there something you want to eat?”

“Do we have chicken nuggets?” Chris asked you, picking up one of the stim toys he had left on the floor last night as he followed you into the kitchen. “That reminds me, isn’t it weird that chickens can’t fly? Like…are they even real birds?” he asked you. 

“I dunno, hun. Google it.” You told him gently, pulling the bag of chicken nuggets out of the freezer.” 

“Do you think chickens are sad that they can’t fly? Like do they look at cardinals and go ‘Damn, why can he fly but not me’?” he hummed, flicking at the toy. 

Chris was wrapped up in his own little world as you made his lunch. He didn’t even get the chance to Google his chicken question before he was distracted by a Spotify notification, which led to him loudly singing a Lil Skies song, dancing around the kitchen. As much as you hated how difficult ADHD could be for him, Chris had one of the best personalities you had ever met; he was bubbly and outgoing, always the life of the party and always willing to cheer you up. You quickly plated his nuggets, along with some other random foods that you knew he would love, before sliding the plate across the island too. 

“See if that makes you feel better.” You explained with a soft smile. 

You watched as Chris downed the food, along with a Gatorade you had given him, only to see a smile dawn on his face. 

“I feel better now,” Chris mumbled shyly after a while. “Thank you. You’re the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. You literally always know me better than myself, it’s kinda weird.”

“Why is it weird?” You asked with a snort. 

“Cause it’s like you’re magical or something. Which it would be really cool if you were.”

You smiled, kissing Chris’s soft brown hair. “I love you too, hun.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

2

Tour life was difficult. No one would deny that. As much as the triplets were absolutely loving the Versus tour and all the antics they were getting to do, as well as meeting fans, they had to admit that it was exhausting. Not only were they running on an extremely tight schedule, it was wearing on Chris the most, simply because he was getting next to no alone time with you. It wasn’t that he simply wanted the alone time for sexual reasons, rather, you were the only person that could calm his mind, letting him just be. 

“Baby,” You hummed, softly stroking the brunette’s face. It was still dark out, just past six am, but you had a surprise for him, and you knew Chris would later complain about his sleeping in if he found the missed opportunity. “Wake up, honey.”

Chris wriggled beneath the blankets, sleepily blinking his blue eyes. He was freezing and it was dark out; way too early to be awake. “Too early.” he groaned in his morning voice, rolling over to face the wall with the blanket bunched around his shoulders. 

“I have a surprise for you.” You said, a bit more excitement in your voice as you shook him harder. 

The word ‘surprise’ immediately woke the boy up as he rolled to face you. You were already dressed in one of his hoodies and a pair of leggings, eager to get on with your plan. You were practically bouncing up and down like an excited little kid, hoping Chris would love what you had come up with as much as you did. 

“Why the fuck are you awake? It’s dark out,” he moaned. “Come cuddle me instead.”

You snorted at your boyfriend’s dramatics, quietly pulling back his blanket so as not to disturb Matt and Nick. “Get dressed, you big goof. We’re leaving in ten.”

As much as he wanted to argue and go back to sleep, Chris couldn’t deny that he wanted to understand what had caused the giddiness in your aura. He quickly pulled on his favorite hoodie and sweatpants, cramming his messy hair under a snapback as he followed you down the bus steps and out onto the quiet, dark sidewalk. He didn't know where the bus had stopped during the night. Philly maybe? But he didn’t get time to think about that as you simply nodded to one of the members of the triplets security and then took his hand, dragging him down the sidewalk. 

“Where are we going? I miss my blanket.” Chris pouted. 

“Me too,” You nodded, trying your hardest not to disclose the surprise. “But I do have something that’ll make you feel better.”

Chris didn’t know where you were going at this point, but he followed you anyway. He would’ve followed in any life, had someone asked him the question. You two continued to walk for a few more blocks until you stopped in front of a brightly lit diner, its neon signs illuminating the darkness of the street. 

“Pancakes?” Your boyfriend asked, perking up as the smell of bacon drifted from the restaurant. “Goddamn, I knew I made the right choice dating you.”

“I am pretty amazing,” You giggled, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Let’s eat.”

You stepped into the diner together, immediately being sat at a booth and having your order taken. You and Chris both ordered an immense amount of breakfast food, quite tired of the protein shakes and cereal that came with bus life. 

“How did you, um, find this place?” Chris asked bashfully, stirring his straw around his Pepsi. 

You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee. “I was just looking for things for us to do alone and it came up,” You hummed. “I love Matt and Nick, I really do, but I also like to have one-on-one time with you, and I could kind of tell you needed some, too.”

“How do you always manage to know exactly what I need when I need it?” he asked with a chuckle, brushing his hand over your knuckles. 

You smiled, a blush dotting your cheeks as your waitress came over with a tray full of all the food you had ordered. “I just do.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

3

“Baby,” Chris whined, sprawling out across your shared queen sized bed. “Don’t leave me. I don’t need food, nor do I want it.”

“But you do.” You said pointedly, looking him up and down as you slipped on your Uggs. 

“Nuh uh,” he fought back, smashing his face against a pillow. “You’re making me feel sick by not laying with me.”

“I’m not making you feel sick. Your choices are making you feel sick. No one told you to drink as much as you did.” You chastised gently, crossing the room to kiss his forehead. 

You and Chris, as well as his brothers, had gone out last night with a large group of friends, to include Johnnie and Jake, Tara, Larray, and Sam and Colby. Things had gotten a little…out of hand, leaving you with a very hungover Chris, who was making miserable noises as he clutched his stomach. 

“You’re not even laying with me,” Your boyfriend pouted. “My head and tummy hurt and I wanna be cuddled and you’re being mean.”

“You’re so grumpy when you’re hungover,” You snorted, kissing his forehead again. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

Chris whimpered again as you propped him up with several pillows, tucking him in and making sure he had water and a bucket nearby. You had opted to get him IHOP, figuring a good amount of carbs would ease the symptoms he was currently experiencing as a consequence of overindulging in alcohol. The time between you leaving the triplets house, picking up food, and returning home was less than forty five minutes total, but it felt like an eternity to your hungover boyfriend who simply wanted cuddles and for his headache and nausea to go away. 

You entered the bedroom, takeout bag in hand. “I’m back. Nothing to cure a hangover like a big, greasy breakfast,” You smiled, settling onto the bed and pulling out plastic containers of food. “Once you eat, you can take some ibuprofen for your headache.”

“I’m not hungry.” Chris whispered softly, feeling too unsettled to eat. 

“You know your tummy will feel better once you eat.” You cooed, stroking his stomach over the comforter. 

“Nuh uh.” he groaned, snuggling further into his pillow and blanket.  

“It will and you know it. You know you can’t drink that much, hun. I dunno what you expected to happen.” You explained softly, pushing some hair out of his face gently. 

As much as he wanted to continue to whine and be difficult, Chris had to admit you were right. A good breakfast and some sleep sounded really, really good right about now. He softly sat up, taking a sip of the Gatorade you had left on his bedside table last night. “Mkay…I’ll try to eat, I guess.”

You didn’t say much as you two began to eat your breakfast. You knew Chris probably had a raging hangover headache right about now, and you didn’t want to make it any worse. Once your boyfriend had had enough to eat and taken the pain relievers, he curled up into your side, placing your hand on his stomach. 

“...you were right,” he admitted quietly, always hating to be wrong. “Now I need belly rubs and sleep.” 

“So demanding,” You fake huffed, kissing his forehead. “Get some rest, hun. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

4

Chris Sturniolo was not the type to let anyone know he was upset. Sure, he would jokingly whine and complain about things when he felt like being irritating to his brothers, but he would never actually let anyone see when his feelings were hurt. You knew this about him, and after a little over a year together, you knew the signs that he was feeling this way as well.

The four of you were currently sitting in Matt’s car in a random parking lot, filming a car video. You opted to sit in the back and mostly listen with an amused look. After all, this was the triplets video, not yours. They hadn’t really planned a topic for today either, which ever bubbly Chris took to his advantage. 

“I need to pee,” he stated to no one in particular. “I got a new water bottle and so now I’ve been motivated to stay hydrated so I need to pee.”

“Why did you say water bottle like that?” Matt snorted. 

The boys continued back and forth with their bickering for a while, mostly making fun of the way Chris had said the word. You simply sat and laughed, enjoying all the weird conversations that came up, that is until Nick harshly interrupted Chris. 

“Do you ever shut up?” he asked. “Like genuinely, do you ever shut your mouth?”

“I do sometimes.” Chris protested. 

“Nuh uh,” Matt interjected. “You couldn’t go five minutes without talking. I bet on it. You’re one of those people on the list Nick was talking about. The one who could benefit from being quiet.”

“Fine. Time starts now.” Chris ‘locked’ his lips and pretended to throw away the key. 

You knew he was just going along with the video, but you could tell by the slump of your boyfriend’s shoulders and the way he had his forehead resting against the cool window that the comments had hurt him more than he let on. Nick and Matt continued to talk for a few minutes, before landing on a topic that immediately sparked Chris’s mind. He quickly decided to speak up, forgetting about their ‘challenge’. 

“You can’t do it,” Matt laughed, a triumphant look on his face. “Chris can’t stop yapping…wait, that should be the title of this video.”

Nick laughed and fist bumped his middle triplet, but you found the joke far from funny. Chris had slowly curled into himself throughout the duration of the video, speaking less and less. He was still appearing to be smiling and having a good time, but his overall demeanor had shifted, and you could tell his brothers’ teasing was getting to him. 

“We should get home. It’s getting late…” You mumbled softly once the car had quieted down. 

Chris turned around in his seat, giving you a thankful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Matt nodded at your statement, turning the key in the ignition and beginning the short drive back to your shared LA home. Everyone was quiet, which was a rare occurrence in this car. You would’ve thought that Matt and Nick would’ve noticed Chris’s unusual silence, but somehow they didn’t. Your boyfriend lingered to get out as his brothers clomped inside the house, laughing about a random joke. 

“You okay, hun?” You asked, climbing from the backseat to the driver’s seat, resting your hand on his arm. 

“‘M fine.” Chris mumbled, leaning his head  against the window. 

“You don’t act very fine.” You whispered gently, running your fingers through the soft, brown curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Do you think I talk too much?” Chris whispered quietly, turning towards you. 

Under the bright light of the garage, you could see unshed tears welling in his lash line, threatening to spill. That’s how you knew Chris was upset. He almost never cried, unless he was really and truly upset. 

“Honey,” You said sadly, running your thumb across his cheek. “Of course not, bubba. I love listening to you talk.”

“Well Matt and Nick sure don’t.” he huffed grumpily, but a sniffle made its way out.

“Yeah…I was going to talk to them about that, actually. They were kinda being dickheads to you tonight.” You whispered, always hating conflict between the triplets. 

“They were right,” Chris groaned, burying his head in his hands. “I can’t shut my fucking mouth and everyone thinks it’s annoying!”

“Sweetheart,” You cooed, pulling him into a hug across the console. “I don’t, and I say that with every promise in me. I love listening to you talk, Chris. Your voice is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard and I learn so much from you every day.”

“Really?” he sniffled, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Really, hun,” You smiled, softly brushing it away. “I love you.”

Chris smiled, giving you a soft peck on the lips. “You always just know, don’t you? You always know when I’m sick or tired or when something’s wrong. God, I love you.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

5

You had always loved music, ever since you were little. Something about how a simple arrangement of notes could make a person feel so many emotions captivated you. It was like a language that you didn't have to learn to understand. By the time you were eleven, you’d been playing guitar and ukulele, and that later expanded to piano and bass. Music was absolutely your therapy, and you took every opportunity you had to practice your craft. 

You were sitting on the floor of your and Chris’s shared bedroom, strumming softly on your acoustic guitar. For once, the house was quiet because the boys were out filming a video, so you took the time to practice one of the new songs you had been working on lately. Being a music major allowed you very little time for your separate projects, so you would take whatever chance you could get. 

The silence didn’t last long, though. Just as you were playing an Em chord, Chris burst into the room, flopping on the bed. “Hey mamas, how was your day?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but continued to strum your guitar. “It was wonderful…until I was so rudely interrupted.”

“You know you love me,” Chris teased, rolling onto his stomach and propping his chin in his hands. “Play me a song.”

“God, you are so demanding,” You chuckled. “What’s next? An autograph?”

“Mhm. On my boobs.” Your boyfriend smiled.

You shook your head with a laugh, throwing a guitar pick at him. “You’re insane.”

You didn’t waste any more in Chris’s antics, though. You fulfilled your boyfriend’s request, quietly beginning to play Falling like the Stars and singing along. Chris said nothing more, cherishing the sound of your voice. He loved hearing you sing and play guitar. It soothed him, allowing him to see the passionate parts of you that only came out in your music. He wished that he could do the things that you did, but he had just never taken the time to learn an instrument. 

You looked up at your boyfriend on the bed after you finished the song, smiling softly. You watched Chris for a moment, observing his body language and the way he was looking at you. “Do you…want to learn?” You asked him quietly, a blush dotting your cheeks.

“You’d teach me?” Chris’s cheeks and ears grew pink as he looked at you shyly. 

“I’d love to.” You nodded with a smile. 

Your boyfriend clambered off the bed, sitting down next to you on the rug. You softly began to explain the different parts of an acoustic guitar and how to hold it, before moving onto chords and strumming. Chris had always been a fast learner when he put effort in, and right now was no different. Within the hour, he was already playing slow, soft songs. The chords were still vibrating and it took him quite a while to change them, but it was a song nonetheless. 

“I’m not as good at it as you are.” he pouted after a moment, setting your guitar aside gently. 

“Well I have been playing for ten years, bub.” You chuckled gently, kissing his face. 

Chris wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you back deeply. He loved you with all his heart, and you taking the time out of your day to share your passions with him only made him love you more. As the kiss grew heavier, Chris fell back onto the floor, still holding you as he giggled. 

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play guitar, you know that?” he asked, pecking your forehead. 

“I could tell.” You smiled. 

“You always can.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

+1

“It’s such a nice day out today.” You hummed, soaking in the sun as you laid on your towel. 

Chris fidgeted beside you anxiously, but made an acknowledgement towards you statement so as to ‘throw you off his scent’. He had been planning this surprise for months now and he was currently using every muscle in his body to keep his mouth shut so as not to spoil it.

You two were basking in the sun on the beach in Santa Barbara, towels laid out. You had noticed Chris had been unusually quiet all day, but didn’t really think much of it. The beach usually kept him in his own little world, too distracted by the roar of the ocean and the sand between his feet to notice anyone else. You both had always loved the beach, and moving to the LA area after living in Boston your whole life had been a welcomed change. You practically went to the beach every weekend, but today Chris had led you to a new spot he had found. It was rather secluded, but you loved it all the same. It made things more intimate between the two of you. 

“You’re quiet today,” You said after a while, rolling over and propping yourself up on your shoulder. You looked Chris over from head-to-toe, admiring the tiny features about him like the way his curls had grown more pronounced with the salt air and the birthmark on his back. “Beach getting you relaxed?”

“I, uh, yeah. You could say that,” Your boyfriend tried to smile sheepishly, looking you over. Your lavender bikini hugged you just right, making him even more nervous. If he fucked this up while you looked so gorgeous, he would never forgive himself. “Wanna take a walk?”

You smiled, sitting up quickly and beginning to gather your towel. “Sure!”

“No!” Chris said a bit too hastily. “I mean, you don’t need to bring your towel…I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You can’t just leave your stuff on the beach, Chris.” You giggled. 

“It’s not like anyone’s gonna steal it. Just–trust me, please?” he asked, giving you those blue puppy eyes you could never resist. 

“I guess so,” you fake huffed, taking his hand in your own. “C’mon, let’s walk before the sun sets on us, silly.”

Chris smiled, taking your hand in his own and starting the trek down the beach. The ocean was calling him as you two strolled westward towards the sunset, but that would have to wait. At least until he had finished his plan. The silence between you was comfortable like always, but this time it thrummed with passionate energy. Chris was pretty sure you had no idea what he was  planning, but then again, you knew him like the back of your hand.

“This beach is so quiet. It’s nice when it’s just us,” You smiled. “How did you find this place?”

“Oh, y’know, doing what I do best. Poking around.” Your boyfriend laughed nervously as you came to a beautiful expanse of rock along the beach. 

You immediately ran towards the beauty, smiling up at the wonder of nature. “This is gorgeous.”

Chris took the opportunity of you having your back turned to feel in the pocket of his swim trunks for the tiny box that he had been hiding from you for over a month now. He would admit that he had definitely had a bit of a struggle keeping the secret from you, but it was worth it to see you now, on this gorgeous beach, looking even more beautiful than the view around you. The brunette turned his head to where Nick was hiding out of sight, holding his camera. As much as he wanted the two of you to be alone for this, he wanted the pictures infinitely more. He couldn’t wait to tell his kids about what would be the best day of his life one day, that is, if you said yes. 

He took a deep breath, pulling the box out of his pocket and then tapping you on the shoulder. “I have a question for you, ma.”

By the time you had turned around, Chris was on one knew, holding a tiny, velvet box that held a gorgeous, heart-shaped, diamond ring. “Oh my god…” You whispered, hand flying to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

“You are my best friend, baby. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you that day in ninth grade algebra class. Finding out you felt the same way about me was probably the best day of my life. You always listen to every crazy, stupid, and dumb idea I have and I love you for it. You know me better than I know myself. I love loving you; you are my first, last, and only love. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“Oh my god, yes!” You squealed, throwing yourself into his arms as Chris slid the ring onto your finger.

Chris sniffled as he spun you around, hugging you tightly and kissing you. “This is why I’ve been acting weird today,” he chuckled and blushed. “I was worried you’d find out. You know literally everything.”

“Not everything,” You smiled, showing him the diamond. “You kept the secret so well. Who all knows?”

“Well,” Chris admitted shyly as Nick stepped out from his hiding spot. “Nick knows, obviously, because I needed his help capturing the moment. Matt knows too. Other than that, no one else.”

“You’re amazing, Chris,” You whispered, kissing him again. “I’ve wanted to marry you since I was fifteen years old, you know that?”

“I love you so much, ma. Always have and always will.” 

As Nick continued to snap photos of the two of you in front of the sunset on the beach, you couldn’t help but to feel your heart swell. You hadn’t known what was going on with Chris this time, but for once, you didn’t even mind. 

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxyz @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @idek3000hi @runasvengence

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[guardian5tiger3]

An honest love reading (general)

Pick a picture -

1 2

3 4

Group one

A cycle has just been completed in terms of love and romance and either you or someone else did not this to happen. They're almost like, dramatic about that.someone involved , you or someone connected to yourself somehow, is overly focused on love and it stresses them out and it feels extreme though I can't pick up on any situation extreme enough to justify this. Someone could have insomnia and or hair loss you could also possibly see someone's tiredness in their eyes. Someone's money might be affected. I keep picking up on a a group of, as in multiple, people. Either someone here is polyamorous and if that's the case it has something to do with denial about something or the want to be in control of something or someone, or for others there's a group of people you're dealing with and they're "heated " about something . I also heard " eyeing you" who the hell uses phrases like this if you know that's a confirmation for ya. You have a group of people somewhat obsessed they seem like obsessed people in general they may be obsessed with something to do with you or just you, I'm also picking up on one individual who has something to do with you that (is very weird, and the groups I'm picking up on more or less give me weird vibes,) well connected to this person I'm getting something about childhood and I'm seeing candy this is really weird and I just involuntarily made an angry or confused look with my eyebrows you know I pushed them down I don't know why. This person may have known you for a long time or thinks they do or something idk this is super strange g make sure you're not overly trusting of every single person ever in your life you know. Someone also could be trying to take something that isn't theirs. Lock your doors , literally. Wow.sorry y'all . Genuinely. I also am somehow picking up on someone's long straight hair and something about glitter. I also saw a purple dress.

Group Two

You guys are easily manipulated and people who are going to want to manipulate you can notice this probably way more than you can about yourself also someone needs to not bite their fork when they take a bite of food it's bad for your teeth I don't know how or why that would come up for me to say sorry. Somebody needs to literally or metaphorically open a window. Um you're on the path to love and it will happen exactly when it's supposed to how it's supposed to with who it's supposed to and honestly unless you really go out of your way you may not have any romance at all until then even if that isn't what you want like for some reason I guess it depends but either your soul wants people in the meantime or you want someone sooner or what I don't know it just don't work like that though you know. I'm generally getting like if you're the type to hope your person isn't with anyone else before they meet you then this is probably for you also. Or your person is like this and I guess they are somewhat powerful cause therefore that's the way it's gonna be and in the meantime I guess you're gonna have to be solo. Somehow this seems better and more productive for your personal development than learning by Interacting with other people and being with "karmics" and stuff.

Group Three

I'm seeing two energies that are basically, literally, nothing alike. Yet somehow they're paired up. You're with this person right now in the past or future or you wanted or want to be with them lol. Some of you it's your soulmate ,though and that's really special and actually really cool and refreshing. Like 99% of you are supposed to at least at one point be with someone like this to you. Or for like very few of you this is just about your signs like fire and water but I really doubt that's as far as it goes you are probably very different either way. You guys are very deep and cool refreshing people very beautiful , good listeners and balanced. Someone has ADHD or something else so you might doubt the good listener thing I'm getting but I think you pay attention to detail or something like somehow this is still infact accurate and you may be don't see it about yourself . I think you all are very deep mentally and have a deep capacity to hold a lot lot lot of information, knowledge, wisdom, n stuff. A lot of people might be drawn to you or notice you and also possibly a lot of different types of people as something about you a lot of different people can still connect with somehow. Yeah also someone's a hater here though and they might tease you with something somehow so I really hope you stay aware of that possibility, realize this about whoever they are and stand up for yourself basically I feel like you have the potential to retaliate and as long as it is nothing illegal I kind of feel like saying I want you to . ????????? I don't know o feel like it would be really satisfying maybe to your guides or it is when you do, fight back or argue cause you're good at it and it would not be easy to win against you or come up with any comeback especially if you plan something. Wow. Hahaha. I'm leaving it here.

I heard desperado and I know three songs called that well two are just remixes of the og you could look up the og or the Mike bars desperado lol . Or just the word maybe is significant, goes with your picture anyway. I feel like most of you that will hear the song will just like the song lol . I can dig it

Group Four

There was a conditional love given and when this was taken away it had someone really stressed out and hurt. Someone was being a complete dick that was giving love conditionally and then stopped . I feel like the shit they do or say is old as f... Like it's ugly and getting old man anyway. This very well could be past energy like long long ago for some of you. This person might have lied. They might be selfish. They may be downplaying your come up or they will when you do come up. Or some , even saying you don't deserve it but I'm being shown you very clearly do. Like this person only gets dustier through time nobody is ever gonna pick up this old kick knack and undust them theyre old and lame. I'm picking up on like, when people say the type of person that peaked in high school. Yeah so this person has their qualities but eventually everyone's like ok whatever yawn. They're definitely super greedy as I just got a card saying " GREED " lol. In terms of future love y'all will be good I'm picking up generally most of you just need to become more comfortable within yourself first and I'm picking up on like cozy night chilling and watching movies and stuff by yourself or with a pet even a friend but you get me just learning to be content also and have good times like that without the need for someone else romantically. Either way somehow some time after you get into that energy a person will come along softly and surely and it will be really nice and happy . Around that time maybe shortly after you will have something happen positive when it comes to work or their work . I also channeled the movie my big fat Greek wedding as I was channeling this last part haha so I thought I should mention that, I know I'm partially Greek and always loved that movie. Someone might like telling stories ? But yeah in the movie she has a glow up and then she sees this guy she thought was cute again and things just worked out and he asked her out and they fell in love it was just simple smooth and sweet and the timing matched up with what I said may happen for you so that's really cute y'all stay hopeful and focus on relaxation. And for some of you if you know this is true though also studying .

[skylarsblue]

✦Slashers with a Male(“dominant”)S/O✦

✧AMAB!Reader, implied to be on the tall & broad side, also a lil southern cause I wrote this when I was tired and my southern accent took over. ✧Danny Johnson(He/They), Bubba Sawyer(He/She/They), Stu Macher(He/Him), Billy Loomis(He/Him), & Brahms Heelshire(He/Him)

NSFW Warning; some headcanons & implications

✦Danny Johnson ~ Ghostface✦

Danny is pansexual, I will defend that til the day I die. He doesn't give a single fuck, as long as he gets to fuck. He has a typical type when it comes to men but it's never concrete. That being said, his usual type is dudes who look like they could snap him in half. Because that's what they want.

He's usually the dominant type, but he's all for being a pillow princess if the dynamic is right. But! They have to really like you, they're not a cheap whore...most of the time. Point is, he has to be fascinated with you as much as he is attracted to you, which they are. Lucky you.

Let's assume you're a survivor for this. All the survivors are pretty unique, but you being new should help your case. But what will really get Danny interested is seeing you match his energy. Flirting with him when you evade an attack, blowing a kiss before you leave through the hatch, wolf-whistling if you catch them crouched behind something. It throws him off but he's a bit too flattered to stay annoyed. A surefire way to get them obsessed with you though is to struggle when he tries to mori you. And if you're successful, keeping your cool as you pin them back? You might feel something poking your thigh in record time.

Danny's the lovable kind of annoying. Which is confusing, given the fact he's a murderous psychopath and most likely a narcissist. Matching his flirty and energetic ADHD-ass nature will get their crush to develop further. It'll be unhealthy but you're not here for someone mentally stable.

Expect him to follow you everywhere, take a million pictures of you, he probably brags about you to other killers. They're honestly sick of him shoving pictures of you taking your shirt off, taken from a distance without your knowledge.

They're a cuddly bitch, and they're incredibly starved for human contact. You're gonna need to carry him. Complain all you want. He has mommy/daddy issues and he wants to be held like a baby, damnit.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Did I mention pillow princess? Yeah. When Danny's the dominant partner in a relationship, sexual or romantic, he puts in all the work without any complaint. He doesn't mind his partner just laying there and enjoying it. Makes him feel accomplished. But sometimes a bitch needs pampering. That's where you come in.

They're an extreme masochist as much as they are a sadist. You could put the hot metal of a lighter to his thigh and he'd probably cum in his pants. Pulling his hair is the easiest way to put him in his place if he's being a bit too mouthy. And they will beg you for marks if you don't put them there yourself. He wants to be sore after it all, damnit!

Panting, Ghostface let out a little laugh from behind their mask as he settled over you, knife raised. "Finally caught you, sweetheart. Tell you what, you're a good runner. But I won.~" He hummed raising a gloved hand to your hair in order to pull your head back, slice your neck. Danny inhaled and went to jab his knife into your jugular, only to let out a rather unmanly yelp when you suddenly jostled them. Able to completely flip around, tossing them off as if they weighed nothing. The muderer's camera landed in the grass and his hands were trapped above him by yours. He blinked in awe behind his mask, watching your chest rise and fall. "If there's one thing I hate 'bout y'all killers, it's the goddamn ego." You smiled as you spoke. For once, the talkative killer didn't reply. "What? Cat got your tongue, Casper? You were talkin' a bunch of smack befo-" You paused and glanced down. Danny swallowed as you let out a quiet chuckle. "Well I'll be damned...shoulda known you'd be into this kinda thing. Gross lil' fucker." They cleared their throat awkwardly as you tapped their mask. Danny inhaled and pulled back some of their dignity. "Should expect everything from me, big guy." He retorted. "Suppose I should, huh?...well, Ghostie. Rest of the team's down and I ain't got a clue where that hatch is. Might as well make the most of it, eh?" Perhaps a terrible idea, but exciting nonetheless.

✦Bubba Sawyer ~ Leatherface✦

SHE DESERVES A STRONG HUSBAND TO HELP HER AROUND THE HOUSE.

That aside, Bubba's not necessarily in the most accepting time or house. His brothers still poke fun at him sometimes when he dresses femininely, but have mostly grown to accept it. And I can't see Chop-Top as not being the type to mess around with a guy occasionally, so while they probably say ignorant stuff every now and then, I don't think it's those three that'd be the problem. It's the forties. Everyone else is gonna have something to say. Assure Bubba it's not a problem for you, she'll be over the moon.

They've tended to be into women and feminity in the past, but don't let that fool you, they are very bisexual. It especially helps if you're the sweet-talking type. Bubba is very easily thrown off by flirting.(Looking at you, Stretch) That and gentleness. Be a gentleman and you got Bubba swooning, especially if you're like that even after they've shown you they're cannibals.

We all know Bubba's not super dominant, at all. She's rather submissive and it's usually taken advantage of, since she struggles saying no. And they rarely get thank you's. Proper praise will get you a long, long way.

Pick. Bubba. Up. Pick her up. Do it. Pick them up and carry them around like a precious husband wife because that's what they are. They deserve it, their legs probably hurt from working all day!

Helping out around the house in general will score you major points. Especially if you aid in the process of getting food, that'll get you points with the rest of the family too. The more good word you have in Bubba's family, the more they'll be willing to keep you, because Bubba's love for you is honestly the only thing keeping you alive.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Praise. Praise praise praise praise, praise and compliments all over the place. Bubba has been nothing but criticized their entire life, if there's anything they need both in and out of sexual experiences, it's words of affirmation. They're even more submissive when underneath you. Because(southern accent activated), lawd almighty what a big strong man you are!~ Oh also, call them good girl/good boy/good baby.

Bubba's got no fuckin' clue what to do. They've only occasionally seen a dirty magazine or the clip of a porn movie that Chop-Top left on the old TV. You're gonna need to teach them basically everything. Just make sure you're gentle, because Bubba is sensitive and they need patience when it come to new things. God forbid they have an overstimulated meltdown during something that's supposed to bring you two closer together.

The old floorboards whined under your weight as you looked around the old house. "Pardon me, but uh...is anyone here?!" You called. "I don't mean to intrude, I was just wonderin' if I could borrow some water..." You voice trailed off at the sight of an...oddly furnished room. A bench made of bones, a chicken in a cage, feathers everywhere. More and more bones that were no doubt human. Alarm bells rang in your skull, amplified when there was a heavy slam of a metal door being opened, and quick footsteps. You took a defensive stance when you saw a large figure appear, dressed a button up, cowboy boots, old pants and a stained yellow apron. They held a hammer in thick hands and looked around, letting out animalistic like squeals and distressed grunts, until they spotted you. Though typically the fight type, you couldn't seem to do that or resort to flight, stuck in place. Their hands waved a bit and they ran at you full force. For a moment, your gaze fell on a cracked floorboard, one you'd avoided coming in. "Whoa hey now, wait-!" Too late, they stepped on it and it gave way, sending their leg through the floor. They whined and kicked, getting more distressed by the moment. "Hey!" They snapped their gaze up to you. It took a lot of willpower not to cringe at the sight of their mask. Instead approaching slowly with your hands open and in front of you. "Easy, alright? Relax. You're just gonna get yourself hurt thrashin' 'round like that." The stranger let out more noises of distress. "Relax, sweetheart, I ain't gonna hurt'cha." They stopped moving as soon as the pet name left your mouth. Confused, likely. They let out a little concerned whimper as you knelt down and tugged the floorboard next to the broken one. It pulled up and their leg was freed. "Look, see? Nothin' to worry 'bout. Just gotta be careful with these old floors. They give way real easy." They twisted the hammer around in their hands, standing rather stiff as you rose to your full height. Not much different from theirs. You exhaled and introduced yourself by your name. "I apologize for just bargin' in, door was open and I kinda thought this place wasn't occupied. I was just lookin' for a drink if that's alright?" You asked. They shifted their weight from side to side, shyly. Were you insane for considering this cute? Probably, but that wasn't a concern at the moment. They eventually nodded. "Yeah? Well alright then, thank ya, sweetheart. I really appreciate it." They squeaked at the pet name again and flapped their hands, pushing their face into the palms. You chuckled softly. Nearly killed only to charm the attacker, only in Texas.

✦Stu Macher ~ Ghostface✦

Stu. Is. So. Fucking. Gay. Extremely gay. “Oh but Tatu-“ SHHHH, gay. He’s a switch with a casually dominant personality, but he’s not really a dominant person. He’s just intense. He’s actually pretty gullible, especially when looking for praise or approval. Man likes to be included.

He's got a bit of a type for soft-spoken alternative dudes. Like, quiet & brooding. Basically the opposite of himself. You could say anything and if it's said in the right tone, he'll go with it. Why do you think Billy had such an easy time manipulating him?

If you're taller than him, which means over 6'4", bonus points. Major bonus points. Because that's rare and he's a whore.

Proving that you can handle yourself in dangerous situations, or that you can completely whoop ass? Stu finds that super attractive. Especially if you don't even instigate it. The whole "I don't start fights but I finish them" thing is extremely sexy to him.

He's gonna stalk you, just so you know, but he's not very good at it. Stu's a bit too loud and obvious. But he's definitely gonna try and impede your schedule so you two can constantly bump into each other, he thinks he's being subtle but he's not. It's endearing if you don't look too hard at it.

He's not necessarily the ride-or-die type with Billy in the picture, no matter how hot you are. HOWEVER, if you somehow get in on the Ghostface plot? And you're cool with it? Oh now he HAS to suck your dick, it's just a requirement. Especially if you help out directly. Depending on how you treat him and if you're manipulative enough, you might even replace Billy in Stu's mental throne. But you'd have to put in the work, don't expect it to be easy.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

With Stu, you don't really need a dominant or submissive relationship. It kinda just...exists, and that can be very refreshing! He's really not picky on whether or not he's top or bottom, he just likes feeling good. That being said, he has an affinity for oral. Giving or receiving. And he's unfairly good at it.

Pillow. Talk. Do it, all the time. If you want Stu to be your mushy-brained-bitch, use pillow talk. Saying the right things in a soft, breathy tone could be enough to make him jizz in his pants. Just expect him to be just as vulgar in return, and he has no shame, he'll do it in public. Match his energy.

Music flowed from a stereo in the kitchen, mixing with the voices of high school seniors and the clinking of alcohol bottles. Stu's house was known for great parties, especially around Halloween. He enjoyed the atmosphere of social gatherings and he made for a great, unconventional host. Ensuring everyone was as drunk as they wanted and everyone felt comfortable to let loose. He jumped out from behind a corner with a mask on, it smelt of booze and weed and he'd simply found it resting on his dining room table. Two girls, both dressed as angels, screamed. One smacked him in the chest after he took off the mask whilst laughing. Stu sipped some beer from a red solo cup as he meandered through his entryway. "Stu!" A junior girl that he sometimes asked to do his homework skipped up to him, smiling as she held a new model cellphone in her hand. "My cousin just called me cause he's new in town, can I invite him over? He's the same age as you and-" She squeaked when Stu hugged her into his side casually. "Shhhshhh your explanations, sweetheart! Call'em! But he better be cool!" He insisted. She grinned and quickly dialed back her cousin as Stu chugged back the rest of his alcohol.

It was hard hearing the heavy knock on the door about thirty minutes later, but Stu prided himself on how good his hearing was, despite all the music he tended to blast. He didn't get to the door before the same girl ran up with a smile. What was her name again? Stella? "That's probably him!" She exclaimed excitedly as Stu swung the front door open. It caught him off guard that he had to look up instead of down. His mouth grew dry as he was met face-to-face with a motorcycle helmet. "Oh, sorry." The stranger's voice was muffled and their gloved hands rose to hoist the helmet off, they quickly fixed their hair. "Thanks for the invite, I'm guessin' you're Stu?"

"The one and only! Nice to meet'cha cowboy. Got any booze?" Stu was excellent at quick recovery. You dug into your pocket for a moment and pulled out a small shot-bottle of vodka. "'Specially for the host." You said, Stu grinned and took it, stepping aside and dramatically motioning for you to enter. Stella began rambling off to you about how happy she was you were in town whilst Stu just...stared. It was noticeable at this point, which made you look over. "You want a picture, big guy?" Stu felt horniness sucker punch him in the ribs. "Nah, I'm good with staring!" He grinned. He swallowed as you snickered. "Alrighty then, feel free." Stu would be staring at you a lot. A whole lot.

✦Billy Loomis ~ Ghostface✦

Did someone say INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA?? It's so obvious. Now, I think Billy is bisexual, but he's hella hesitant to admit he's into dudes. For the sake of his dad, the idea of a dude having more power than him, and the time period? It's not easy for him to just be cool with it when it comes to himself.

That being said, Billy's more of a bottom than he'd like to admit. And it comes out with dudes that are bigger than him, and it's even worse if they're not easy to manipulate. Which you're not. That pisses him off so much.

Rule of thumb with a Ghostface? Energy matching. Be just as smooth-voiced and eerily calm and he's gonna have heart palpitations. It pisses him off so bad that he can't affect you.

To be completely honest, he's gonna try and stab you because he's an angsty teenage boy who can't handle his feelings so it's easier to get rid of the cause. Of course, it's not that easy. You don't make it easy, and that also makes him more into you. He likes the adrenaline of a struggle.

What'll really get him is if you somehow get him vulnerable, which will take a blue-moon and 1/10,000 type of luck odds. But not take advantage of it. Don't pity him and don't poke at him, just...being there. Even trying to lighten the mood, that kind of thing gets any angry boy with mommy issues to get at least a lil soft.

If you know he's Ghostface and ask to help, especially if he just tried to kill you? Bro how dare you...offer something so sexy, of course he's gonna say yes. But don't ask to be a Ghostface. He's comfortable with being in control of that aspect. But you can help with things like the gameplay or the information on victims, or being an alibi. If you can be an alibi put on the spot? Mm, so sexy.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Look, I know Billy probably isn't a bottom at all, but this is fiction and I can do whatever I want. And I say Billy Loomis is a reluctant pillow princess. Reluctant because of internalized homophobia and a fear of being vulnerable, but we're gonna lie to ourselves and say that you somehow managed to get past that.

You're gonna need to have the patience of a saint. No hard doms here, ironically. He likes a power struggle, but what really gets him is you being in control and calm. Like you don't have to try. Oddly enough that kind of thing is comforting. It feels like he's relinquishing control to someone who knows what they're doing, rather than someone flying blind.

Billy chucked the burner phone as hard as he could into the woods surrounding Stu's house before bending down and ensuring his knife was properly strapped down. Hidden under his jeans and boots. The music from inside was headache-inducing. Stu was far more sociable than Billy, he had never been much of a party person, aside from the booze. He was more of a homebody.

He walked around the house and went over his alibi story a few more times as he hopped onto the porch, ringing the doorbell. It swung open to Stu, who was very clearly buzzed, if not just straight drunk. "Billy! Baby, my man, c'mere. I gotta introduce you to this dude." Billy didn't get a chance to speak as Stu pulled him inside, rambling on. The teen sighed and rolled his eyes. "Aight, Bill, this is the new guy that's coming to our school next week." Stu motioned to you. Significantly taller than him and probably twice as broad, holding an air of natural intimidation and a stern expression. But it softened when you turned.

"Oh, you're Billy? Stu kept talkin' bout you. Nice to meet you." You held out a large gloved hand, mentioning your name. Billy held up his fist instead, which you quickly adjusted to make it a fist bump. "Bill, this dude is so cool. He's got like a ton of motorcycles and a fuck ton of knives-" Stu slurred. "I have two motorcycles, one of which isn't even technically mine. And I have a collection of pocket knives, he's exaggerating." You smiled. "Oh! You two wait here, I'm gonna get you both some booze." You didn't have a chance to deny the offer before Stu rushed off.

Billy stood with his arms crossed, tongue tucked into his cheek. "Introvert?" You asked. "Hm? Oh uh, yeah, more or less." He replied, to which you nodded. "Yeah, I'm not much for parties either. I'm just here for my cousin. Definitely wasn't my plan for tonight." Billy blew some of his hair out of his face, leaning on a wall. "Then what was your plan?" "Watching scary movies." You replied, and maybe it wasn't intentional, but you noticed how he perked up. "Yeah? You a big horror fan?" He inquired. You nodded with a growing smile. "Oh yeah, especially the gory ones. They're the most fun. Do you like scary movies?" You asked. Billy nodded. "Mhm." "What's your favorite scary movie?" He felt a shiver run down his spine as you tilted your head, probably unaware of just how significant the word choice was. Billy smiled and rested the back of his head against the wall. For a moment, slightly lowering his guard as he grinned slyly. "Guess."

✦Brahms Heelshire ~ The Boy✦

How the fuck did you manage to make that happen? We have no idea. Assuming you're a nanny, that is. There's always a chance you work for the Heelshire's for a different reason. (my boy @disc0dild0s has a fic like this on Wattpad, y'all should look at it)

But for my personal wants, we're gonna say you're the nanny, and you somehow meandered your way into a position. Maybe the Heelshire's were just extremely desperate for anyone at that point that they basically told Brahms to deal with it. He has no choice, really. He's gonna be the biggest brat because you're not the pretty woman he asked his parents for.

Yet, seeing how well you handle the job, all the patience you have and the kind demeanor you carry, it intrigues him. Until eventually he's attached. He doesn't know what exactly to do with the emotions, because it feels the same way as it did back when he had female nannies, but...you're a man. Isn't that weird? You can thank his old ass parents for that.

When he reveals himself, it's probably an accident. He's worried you'll run away of course, but part of him is also worried you'll whoop his ass. You're bigger than him and he's seen you hoist shit up no problem when cleaning the mansion. Which is very sexy as much as it is intimidating.

But there goes your gentle nature again, despite how you look. You don't run away even if you probably should, and you don't whoop his ass. Brahms is so hooked after that.

He's not going to make it easy for you. He's got it built in his head that he's the man of the house, that's what his father was trying to turn him into after all. But he is not, you are. You may follow his rules but you also keep him in line, you do all the work, and you could probably snap him in half. He can't just outright admit he enjoys it but he does. Especially when he's feeling sensitive and vulnerable. It's comforting to be carried around by a big strong man, probably more than it should be.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

B O T T O M . Holy shit he's a fuckin' bottom. And a pillow princess, for sure. He's there to feel good, what do you mean you want him to do some of the work?

Brahms is horny as hell but he's not really sure what to do. Teaching him what to do as a woman is difficult, but at least he's read some books to have a very hazy idea. Two men? There's like...two books in that library within it that he probably isn't aware are there. But he's willing to learn, as long as it feels good.

"Brahms? Brahms! Come on, Brahms, I'm not mad, you can come out! I wasn't trying to make fun of you!" You called. The only response you got was the echo of your own voice bouncing back from the walls. You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. It really was a misunderstanding. It had been a month and a half since Brahms had been caught outside the walls. It had been quite the experience. Freaky, but, the reality of his situation was heartwrenching, and his pleading for you not to leave really solidified it. It didn't feel right to leave. So you stayed, now properly caring for a grown man instead of a doll.

He was a man, even if he had these slips in mentality where he acted like a kid. But being an adult with barely any contact, affectionate or otherwise, could lead to some issues. One of which caused Brahms to grow extremely embarrassed recently, which was why he'd retreated into the walls. He'd gotten a pretty obvious boner from just a hug, something you had noticed and lightly teased him for. It was an attempt at lightening the mood but it backfired. You'd given him some time, hoping it would settle down and you could talk to him properly. Unfortunately, an hour had passed and he still wasn't out. Now dinner was nearly done and you didn't want him skipping a meal.

Though the dust would've made your allergies hell, you approached a mirror in one of the sitting rooms, setting it up on a wall before slipping through the cutout behind it. You'd never properly gone into the walls, but you'd heard and seen Brahms use the pathways. You rubbed your nose as you took an inhale, immediately burning from all the dust. "No wonder he coughs all the time...poor baby." You muttered as you began walking. It was confusing and you were far more lost than you'd anticipated, but eventually, you saw the glimpse of a bedside lamp.

You were quiet as you approached. Brahms' inner bedroom was...well, sad. Given he felt the need to live all hidden in the walls on an old bed without support, cobwebs everywhere. You could only imagine how bad his lungs would be if he'd been left in here any longer than he had. The man laid on the mattress in the corner, facing the wall, hugging something you could recognize. A sweater that had gone missing from your luggage a while ago. You sighed as you stood, crossing your arms. "Brahms." Your voice made him harshly flinch, scrambling to sit up and push himself more into the corner.

He let out a sad noise and shrank back, making you frown more. "Hey, hey, don't do that. I'm not here to chastise you." You said softly, walking closer. You tried not to think of the cleanliness of his bed as you sat down, keeping some distance so he didn't feel pressured. "Brahms, sweetheart, can you look at me please?" He did as asked, probably because of the pet name. "I'm not upset or anything, you know that, right? I was just trying to make light of it. I wasn't trying to embarrass you." You explained as Brahms picked at a string in the sweater.

"'s embarassing." He muttered. His voice teetered between states, but was overall soft and muffled. "I know, and I'm sorry for teasing you. But it's okay, it's not like you can help it." You reassured. "But, but...but you're a man..." Brahms replied. Oh. You sighed and glanced at the wall, thinking. "Yes, but, that doesn't have to mean anything. I'm sure you've been told that's weird but it's really not. I like men." You shrugged, a bit caught off guard by how shocked Brahms seemed. "Really?" "I- pfft, yeah? Do you think I go around flirting with just every guy friend I have? No." You smiled. Brahms' face grew warm and red under his mask. "I...I didn't know, I wasn't really sure."

"Well yes, I was flirting with you. You can take that how you will. And if something like that happens again, we can deal with it or we can not. But you don't have to run from me, okay?" You whispered, holding out a hand for him to take. He hesitated but did so, even though he didn't move closer either. "Regardless of the situation, you don't need to hide. I don't want you to feel that way with me. Okay?" Brahms swallowed and messed with a ring you wore. He sighed and nodded shyly. His first instinct was always to hide, even if it always made him feel worse after doing it. "Good boy, now come on, it's dinner time and I don't want it getting cold." You stood up and he did the same, messing with the sweater. "You can keep that if you want." Brahms glanced at the fabric. It had some cobwebs on it and a few flyaway strings from him picking at it, but he took off his cardigan and put it over his head. You chuckled and took the opportunity to kiss his temple, putting him more at ease. "We can talk more about it later. Let's get you some food first. Now, help me get out of here because I nearly got lost at least four times." Brahms snickered quietly and walked ahead of you.

[feyhunter78]

AAAA I’M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART I LOVE YOUR WRITING SMM ❤️❤️

Thank you!!!! 🥺🥺 I'm excited to see y'all's reactions to the newest chapterrrrr Also, I lied about the smut it's in the next chapter, but there is some suggestive type stuff unfortunately it's from Todd

Pink Pastels Pt 9

Description: It's Saturday, and you're at a sports bar with Todd, until you find yourself on the roof with Spiderman.

Pt 10

It’s Saturday. One of your two days off, and all you want to do is relax, but here you are at a shitty sports bar, beer already spilled on your shorts by some drunk idiot, your boyfriend completely ignoring you as he pounds his fist against the bar, screaming at the TV. His team is losing, you assume, as you push away from the bar, drink in hand, and wonder back to your table.

You pull out your phone and scroll through your email, responding to a few, ignoring others, until finally you see a response from a kid in your class’s mother.

Jessica Tompson: Ms. Y/N, I will be available at six PM on Monday to meet with you regarding Tommy’s behavior. I look forward to getting to the bottom of this issue.

You smile and send her a quick response back; you’ve been trying to get Tommy’s mother in for a meeting since October. Tommy wasn’t a bad kid, he just needed extra support and attention, and potentially some ADHD testing. But you knew people were hesitant to test their kids, afraid to “label” them, even though those “labels” could really help their kids in school.

You couldn’t count how many times you’ve explained that identifying where kids are struggling can get them access to accommodations that they need to thrive. Such as extra time on assignments or a quieter, smaller room to take tests in, so they weren’t as distracted. Sure, they wouldn’t get these things forever, but if they got them now, it would help them learn how to self-regulate for the future.

You tap your fingers on the tabletop happily and bound over to Todd. “Hey, guess what, I’m finally getting that mom to come in and talk to me.”

“Who?” He asks, beer in hand, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Tommy Tompson’s mom.”

“Oh, the hot one with the nice rack?”

One of his friends high-fives him, and you put on a tight smile. “I don’t really look at my students’ parents like that, but maybe?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got eyes, sue me.” Then he slammed his beer down on the bar. “Are you fucki—that’s bullshit, Ref!”

Miguel wouldn’t say things like that, he wouldn’t ignore you for football. He’d congratulate you, slip between your legs, his full lips parted, his pink tongue finding a hom— You shake yourself out of your thoughts.

This was crazy, you shouldn’t have done that… Should have stuck to fantasizing about a celebrity, or well, you should’ve been thinking about Todd, he is your boyfriend.

“What a shitty call, Ref!” You echo him, and that earns you a smile thrown your way, and an arm around your shoulders.

You just want things to go back to how they used to be, but honestly, you’re not even sure it used to be good. Maybe you just didn’t really know any different, but now after, all those little chats at pickup, during parent teacher meetings, and then the day at the zoo? How is it that a man, who barely knows you, treats you better than your boyfriend of years?

You walk home with Todd leaning heavily on you, his lips are on your neck, sloppy and clumsy, missing that certain spot on your neck in favor of slobbering all over your skin.

“Todd, maybe we need to slow down a bit.” You say carefully, trying to pry him off you.

“Again?” He sighs heavily, annoyance clear in his tone.

Your face flushes, shame burning through you, and you bite your lip to keep the tears at bay.

When you first started dating you were so new to everything, you’d had a few boyfriends before, but they were short-lived, almost chaste. Todd on the other hand was a complete and utter manwhore.

“I thought you were over all that.” He grumbles, trudging along the sidewalk, refusing to look at you.

He wanted everything fast, fast, fast, and you were dragged along for the ride, anxious and unprepared.

“I am, I am, it’s just you’re drunk, and your head is going to hurt in the morning…” You tell him, helping him up the stairs and through your apartment door.

He makes a beeline for your living room and flops down on your couch. “So, what, I want you, and you’re my girlfriend, so.”

You try to hide your grimace, but he sees it and groans.

“You’re always like this, I swear, such a prude.” He throws an arm over his eyes and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out.

You blanch, there’s no way he’s just going to jerk off, drunk, in the middle of your living room, right?

“Todd, seriously?” You snap, grabbing a decorative pillow and hurling it at him.

He ignores you, pumping himself, grunts and groans spilling from his lips. You used to find him attractive, you’ve always liked when he was vocal but now? Now it feels traitorous to hear him instead of Miguel.

But you’ve never heard Miguel, your mind was just making things up, that’s what dreams and fantasies are.

“You’re such a dick.”

He sat up, still gripping his erect cock. Was it smaller than you remembered? “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you’d do your job.”

"My job?” You ask, thoroughly confused.

He points at his cock, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, there’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.” He says it with such certainty, that it sounds ridiculous.

You bust out laughing, doubling over, gasping for breath. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m not, you’re just a—” then he goes quiet, and you look up to see him passed out cold, cock still in hand.

You stand there for a moment, flabbergasted. There’s no fucking way that just happened.

Throwing a blanket over Todd, you head for the fire escape a different blanket in hand, climbing up to the roof, and sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling, your hands behind you supporting you as you lean back.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head up towards the night sky. It feels good out here, cool breeze, the sounds of the city at night, the gentle coo of the pigeons the apartment manager cares for.

A soft thump draws your attention, and you jump scrambling away from the edge, and turning on your heel. Only to come face to chest with Spiderman.

“I wish it was that easy to get everyone off the ledge.” He says, a hint of humor in his voice.

You remember what he looks like, and his face, mask? is everywhere, but it’s different when you’re not terrified or watching some grainy news footage.

“And he’s funny too.” You joke, giving him a small smile.

He tilts his head, scanning you, then reaches out and his gloved thumb brushes across your cheek. “You were crying?”

Were you crying? You touch your face, your fingertips coming away damp. “Oh, I didn’t even notice, it’s just been a long day.”

You spread out your blanket and sit, your back against the wall, and you pat the space before you.

“Won’t your boyfriend be upset if he found out, you’re sharing a blanket with a masked hero?” He teases, sitting in the space you made for him.

“My boyfriend is currently passed out drunk with his dick in his hand.” You tell him, the low light making you braver than you’d normally be.

He goes silent, the eye parts of his mask widening, and you think that’s his version of raised eyebrows.

“He was drunk and pissed at me because I didn’t want him to slobber up my neck, so then he whips it out, and when I tell him to stop, he calls me a prude and says I should do my job , which is such an asshole thing to say.” It feels good to ramble, to just vent all your feelings onto this masked semi-stranger.

“Do your job?” Spiderman asks, his eyes narrowed.

“He said, and I quote, good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.’ Literally so ridiculous…” You trail off as Spiderman rolls his shoulders back.

For a moment you’re hypnotized by the movement, the sheer mass of muscle.

“…shoes?”

You snap out of it. “I’m sorry?”

“Did you like your new shoes?” He asks, and you hear a smile in his voice.

Wow, y/n, rude much? You didn’t even think to thank the man who not only saved your life, but also replaced your shoes.

“Yes, thank you so much, how much do I owe you?” You go to pull out your wallet but realize you left it in your bedroom.

“No, it’s alright, consider it an apology for not getting there fast enough.” He holds his hands up in a pacifying manner.

You purse your lips but nod. “Alright, well, again, thank you.”

You’re fiddling with the necklace Gabi and Miguel got you, and it seems to catch his eye. “That’s pretty, your boyfriend get you that?”

You shake your head, dropping the pendant. “No, it was a gift from one of my kids, I’m a teacher.”

“That’s cute, do you mind if I?” He motions towards it slightly, and you lean forward, letting him catch it between two long fingers. “Very nice.”

“Yeah, I think it’s really sweet.” You smile up at him, breath catching in your throat when he releases the pendant close to your skin, his fingertip brushing the tops of your breasts.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to touch...” He says quickly, retracting his hand.

You give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“What’d your boyfriend say?”

“About the gift? I don’t think he even noticed.” You scoff, brushing your hair back from your shoulders.

“No, what did he say after you turned him down?” His voice is lower, warmer, spreading across your skin and seeping into your bones.

“Oh well, he tried to argue then passed out.” You giggle, Spiderman’s masked form still inches from your own.

Spiderman lets out a low hum and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “He phrased it all wrong, good girls don’t suck dick, they take cock.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7

[imdonewiththisblogsblog]

Hello! Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Now get ready for some Valentine’s Day incorrect quotes!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dogday: *kisses Catnap*

Catnap: !

Dogday: ...Did you steal my chapstick?

Catnap: Did- did I what?

Dogday: My chapstick, Catnap. Did you steal it?

Bobby BearHug : Dogday, for the love of God, not this again.

Catnap: I- No, I didn't steal your chapstick. We use the same chapstick.

Dogday: No, there is absolutely no way we use the same chapstick, because it was only sold on one Etsy shop two years ago and they discontinued it, and I loved it so much that I bought the last of their stock, and I keep it in my freezer so it doesn't go bad. It's been discontinued for three years. No one uses the same chapstick for three years. So unless you've been eating a whole f--- ton of something that's flavored like chocolate and popcorn, you absolutely stole my f---ing chapstick.

Catnap: Chocolate and popcorn?

Bobby BearHug : Why do you think it got discontinued?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Kickinchicken : *sees Catnap and Dogday together*

Kickinchicken : They're cute. I would put them on a boat.

Bobby BearHug : You mean... you ship them?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*at 3am*

Kickinchicken : *runs into Dogday’s room and turns on the light* Wake up sleepyhead!

Dogday: *wakes up* Dude!

Kickinchicken : *cackles*

Catnap: *sits up from where they were sleeping behind Dogday* What the f---, Kickinchicken ?

Kickinchicken : *jaw drops* Wait WHAT-

(Don’t worry they had a sleepover, they did not “it”, ya nasty.)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Catnap: Goodnight to the love of my life, Dogday, and f--- the rest of y'all.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Congratulations! You've stumbled upon a secret message from me (the programmer of this generator): <img src="https://i.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/mobile/000/039/484/cover7.jpg" width="100%" height="auto">

I look at you with my autistic eyes.) this is amazing. How did this happen?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hoppy hopscotch : Hi.

Bobby BearHug : Hey, did you do what I said? Did you tell them?

Hoppy hopscotch : I did.

Bobby BearHug : And what did they say?

Hoppy hopscotch : “Thank you.”

Bobby BearHug : You’re totally welcome. What’d they say?

Hoppy hopscotch : They said, “Thank you.” I said “I love you” and Kickinchicken said, “Thank you.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Catnap: Come on, Kickinchicken . Nobody actually believes that Dogday is in love with me.

Kickinchicken , to The Squad: Raise your hand if you think that Dogday is helplessly in love with Catnap.

*Everyone raises their hand*

Catnap: Dogday, put your hand down.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dogday: *pretending to joke* So when are you going to go out with me?

Catnap: I don't know. When are you going to ask me to?

Bobby BearHug : And you just ran away?!

Dogday: I didn't expect them to flirt back!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Catnap, holding a rock: Dogday just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock".

Hoppy hopscotch : If you don't marry them, I will.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Kickinchicken: Is there anyone here who’s actually straight?

Dogday: *raises hand*

Catnap: *puts their hand down*

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dogday: Hey, babe, remember how I had to go to the pharmacy to pick up my ADHD meds?

Catnap: Yes?

Dogday: Well, it turns out they're all out for the next five days.

Catnap: F---.

Dogday: It's gonna be a fun week!

Catnap: I'm going to Bobby BearHug 's house.

Dogday: Nuh-uh. Through sickness and health, motherf---er.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(Thank you for reading! Bye!<3)

[jen-with-a-pen]

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on. 

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was. 

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go. 

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin. 

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand. 

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.” 

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare. 

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head. 

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz. 

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve. 

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared. 

You’d never seen Steve scared before. 

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors. 

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned. 

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!” 

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in. 

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver. 

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster. 

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–” 

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation. 

The lights went next. 

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close. 

Too close. 

Another BANG! Then another. 

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you. 

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in. 

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean. 

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue. 

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment. 

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare. 

The intruder’s steps stopped. 

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous. 

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!” 

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue. 

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there. 

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold. 

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights. 

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground. 

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway. 

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time. 

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors. 

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor. 

You were fast, but he was faster. 

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself. 

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash. 

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords. 

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils. 

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood. 

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium. 

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release. 

“You owe me what’s mine –!” 

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor. 

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck. 

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!” 

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life. 

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better. 

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter. 

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.” 

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway. 

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though. 

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in. 

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof. 

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras. 

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again. 

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand. 

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face. 

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky. 

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you. 

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial. 

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches. 

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey. 

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you. 

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone. 

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable. 

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless. 

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. 

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time. 

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt. 

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come. 

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

[thurio-edau]

SBG GANG MENTAL ANALYSIS

yup, him for part two. funny thing despite Aiden being my favourite character I'm most excited for the other three posts I'll make, especially the last one. there's a lot to unpack here so

also im writing this with a migraine pls read it-

Part 2: Aiden Clark

ah, yes. the obviously-mentally-ill from the start fan favourite Aiden Clark. let's go.

first, I want to start with something I find really important about his character, what makes him heavily mischaracterized in the fandom. the 'psychopath' cliche.

the terms 'psychopath', 'insane' and 'unstable' are often confused with each other due to media stereotypes, such as Aiden here. one, he is not a psychopath. psychopath literally means a self-centered person who lacks sympathy, affection and care; making them far from most other characters in their franchise. their lack of sympathy/empathy often makes them criminalized, here

disturbing content warning, for an example of a psychopath.

let's take Gressil from Homesick for example since a lot of SBG readers also read Homesick. so, here, Gressil is a perfect example of an actual psychopath. his lack of empathy makes him torment others, he's very self-centered. and when asked why he's doing this? he says he was bored. let's look at Aiden here. what does Aiden do when bored? probably dumb ideas or annoy Tyler. not torturing people for fun. Aiden is just a boy who likes thrills, but he has a sense of empathy, care and justice.

you wanna see a psychopathic Aiden?? the canvas is it

(our local Logan hater is publishing the canvas eps go checc beachy out)

but that's him, not our Aiden. canvas does not equal originals y'all

alright, now since we got that cleared out!! firstly, ADHD.

I think everyone in the fandom is already aware that Aiden is ADHD but I'm still going to talk about it just like Ashlyn's autism. Red has also said that she wrote Aiden with ADHD in mind but hadn't canonically confirmed anyone as neurodivergent. let's start with the main symptoms of ADHD, also known as Attention Decifit and Hyperactivity Disorder.

I know about 5 different ADHD people myself and did some research, it probably won't be extremely accurate since I'm not ADHD myself, but I'll try to do whatever I can. first with the AD part, Attention Decifit.

now as seen, he doesn't exactly have any problems with theorizing itself. but the problem is that his attention just goes away easily.

i mean cmon bro was making memes on the job

he tries to do work, but can't. he has a low attention span which makes him not able to concentrate. he can't keep it up for long, he'll get distracted or bored too easily about things that doesn't interest in specially.

it's just distracting. what his attention is on constantly changes, there's more to that after the ADHD part but we're here for now.

the hyperactivity... it's a lot more apparent. but I should explain the insane-unstable thing before that.

insane means that someone's mental health is not in an okay situation, where it prevents the person from thinking normally, acting rationally, very often found together with delusions. the person is seriously mentally ill where it might count as a disability.

unstable, however, where someone is prone to psychiatric problems, has moodswings etc. they're not exactly the most sane person, but they aren't insane either. Aiden here, obviously falls on the unstable side. maybe just a little bit insane if you squint. this will be brought up later too, but it mixed well with his hyperactivity too.

and as we all know, our boy isn't exactly the most stable person. (sorry for the collages, but since there is a tumblr picture limit i have to keep on collaging. yes i learnt from the last time) his hyperactivity mixes with his unstable mindset which makes him incresingly vulnerable to danger- which he likes. from when the first shift happened, he's been really careless about stuff but it's been all about his love for thrill.

and it irritates Tyler, too.

the main subplot about his character is that he's a person of excitement. guess what? ADHD people like the excitement, they like new things, they like the adrenaline and thrill. now, Aiden's main characteristic of being unstable mixed with ADHD makes him an even more reckless person. another thing mixing with the hyperactivity, is boundaries.

this part will mostly be about Ashlyn since the boundary issue only happens with her.

I talked about this on Ashlyn's side on my Ashlyn analysis, now it's time for Aiden's side.

he's really annoying to her at first. Ashlyn is someone with lots of boundaries, like high walls. and who tries to climb them with his dumbass? Aiden of course.

she kept rejecting his efforts to befriend her for some time, until the night they stole the jeep. then she managed to actually bring the walls down, and accept them all into her life. but damn was she blunt.

felt that honestly

and Aiden understands her that night, too.

Ashlyn was hesistant to hug him, yes, he was aware. but she still did which made him realize she was also trying. i have to tell you, people with ADHD and people with autism either have trouble getting along, or go perfectly well. my ADHD sibling for example, I have to push them away for a lot and tell them to lower their voice. but once they remember my boundaries it actually becomes a normal, even pleasant hangout. which, Aiden realizes and tries to get along with. he tries.

seeing his efforts on her boundaries makes something click in her mind. and she starts to be a lot nicer when they hang out in the arcade.

Aiden eventually learns and remembers what she's like and what she loves to do. he already tried to watch her ballet sessions once -got slammed-, he's been to her room where he remembered the mat from and her fighting makes it obvious. I'm sure he knew he'd get cooked by betting that. but he still did,

because he knew it'd interest her. which he succeeded, he saw her smile again. the arcade day went great until Barron and his gang pulled up, but if we ignore that part it all went well. Aiden started to understand and respect her boundaries.

anyways then Tyler fucking dies

he knows that Ashlyn feels guilty. Aiden wants to comfort her through it, but also do it correctly. without going over any boundaries. which makes him really,

really,

really surprised when she responds.

also including this pannel cause its hilarious

here we see that he's still trying. hell, I'm sure he spent minutes thinking if he should come close physically to help her. that's probably why he just nudged her softly before anything else. he's not used to it, he has to conciously make an effort to not cross said boundaries. keeping his voice lower, try to not be so reckless, not doing anything physically close unless she reciprocates. wow how i wish another someone i knew irl tried that hard instead of blaming it on me cOUGH COUGH COUGH

also other small things to include

he's yapping a lot

he has a comically large amount of puzzles in his backpack for one single trip

and sticks his head into lamps for some reason

but that's just Aiden and his little neurodivergent brain for ya.

now the part I wanted to get to the most.

Borderline Personality Disorder.

first, what is Borderline Personality Disorder?

shortened as BPD, borderline is when someone's mood is inconsistent and swinging. think of it's name; the person's mental state is in the border, in the border line, switching up fastly. the most easily understood and common type is when the person goes from a depression to a happy state. but no matter which state they are in and/or go to, one thing stays the same: it is unstable.

one thing about borderline is that it is frequently mixed with bipolar. however bipolar is a neurodivengercy which means it is what someone is born with and cannot be changed. but borderline is obtained later in life. it usually happens with depression. bipolar is much more random and the episodes last longer in comparison. it may last up to hours, and the person's memory might have trouble remembering their episodes. borderline, on the other hand, is a short-lived mood swing.

now here. here's the catch; people with BPD during mood swings can have reckless behaviour, suicidal thoughts -in his case as far as we know, lowered sense of protecting himself- or a loss of understanding danger. sounds familiar?

borderline's recklessness and dangerousness, sometimes self-destructive acts combines with ADHD's love for thrill and excitement, combined with Aiden's own personality all make up for a great condition of instability.

Aiden's behaviour constantly goes crazy, I think his most frequent mood swing might be his normal self (at least, as normal as he could be) to this more maniac way of acting. I noticed it from his eyes, when he's in a more calm-ish normal state his pupils are a bit more dilated. in the pictures above, you can clearly see that he's still in the episode; filled with the adrenaline, the unstable way of thinking.

but, what causes that? surely a mental illness such as borderline doesn't happen on it's own.

right?

cause it didn't.

it never works that way.

but it can get better.

eventually.

but what happened to him?

personally, as much as a large amounnt of people seems to believe it's something like family abuse I don't think so. maybe neglect, maybe withdrawal, maybe maybe. but we've seen his parents. I don't think they would hurt him like that. I can't put any more pictures, but this is the last part anyway. his parents seem to be kind and gentle, despite that picture in his house. I'm thinking the picture was only for the dramatic effect. his parents said that he used to be really calm and quiet during Lily's birthday, and both Aiden and Ben seem comfortable around them. they were happy taking Ben in too, any kind of abusive parent wouldn't do that at least that's what I believe. also there is that Aiden got serious and concerned when he learnt that their parents were also in the facility, most likely worried for his own as you would have thought.

there was a post that I've been trying to find for like half an hour, I commented on it but I can't find the post now. the person talked about their own theory. if I remember correctly it was that when Aiden was depressive as a child, his parents took him to a thrilling activity like the ones he's been talking about (bungee-jumping, skydiving etc.) and the thrill made him actually get excited. which is why his parents allowed him to go even more reckless, because they are aware of how prone their son could be to the depression.

what happened? let's ignore the parents factor. someone can have a loving family and still be traumatized, someone can be taken care of and still feel abandoned, someone can never have confronted a situation they are terrified of.

one of my theories is that, the loneliness. it must get to a child heavily considering children need to not be left alone, but Aiden was. he didn't have any actual friends since they always moved from one place to another from his parents' business, and they might have not had enough time to make for him (which I believe is bullshitting, every child deserves to be taken some time out for. some people quit their jobs entirely for their child.) and be unaware, and that doesn't change that he was still depressed and alone. his depressive state was seemingly before Ben was taken in. now here one thing with borderline, at least from my experience, is faking actions. smiles, laughs, friendships, conversations... almost as if there's two different lives; one fake, and one real. you keep on switching, you keep on swinging between the sides where you're yourself and where you're just mimicking 'normal human behaviour'.

it starts from faking a happy state during their depression, and by time you're faking it it becomes an automatic adition to your personality. to your mind. once it furthers, it becomes the disorder. Aiden we see is always smiling. it becomes a habit that only breaks sometimes. now, I'm not saying his smile is fake- I think his face is literally just stuck like that. it breaks ever so slightly sometimes. fake it till ya make it yanno? that kind of thing. and when he swings from his calm mood to his borderline-d mood, his pupils get small and his smile gets worse. noticably worse. I'll be rereading the series (AGAIN) and this time look at all the small details since Red loves putting them and I love theorizing so

which, wraps up the Aiden thing! im actually really proud of how i could put my thoughts into text which i never could. i'd love any additions because i love other opinions as well.

and you know what? im glad Ash and Ai are out of the place because the rest are what I'm actually looking forward to >:)

...and i should sleep. really.

(wow sorry yall i finished this hours ago and said 'alright reread to make sure its good before sleep' and fell asleep through it lol sorry for 4 hour delay ig)

(leaving for school rn see yall 8 hours later 🫡)

[atimodeus]

☆ writeblr intro ☆

Howdy, folks. I generally kinda hate social media, but I fuck with the vibe of tumblr, so I figured I'd give it the ole college try.

quick facts:

I'm 23

he/him

trans + queer

auDHD

disabled

Appalachian

my nonfiction writing:

I'm a big fiction / fanfiction guy, but I also write a lot of essays - both personal and analytical. If you're interested in nonfiction writing about grief, mental health / illness, gender, political issues, disability, etc., check out my substack idiot archivist. Some of my personal favorite essays include:

☆ death knows my name and it calls me friend - an essay about my experience with chronic suicidal ideation

☆ All Men Are Dogs: How Sex Stereotypes Eclipse Desire - an essay about how my transition has helped me better empathize with cis men

☆ A Name is Earned - a personal essay / creative nonfiction piece about my experience growing up in a fundamentalist Christian church

my fiction writing:

Although I write a lot of fiction, I've yet to really consistently share it online. But! I finally made an account on Archive of Our Own (find me here), and I'll probably be sharing on other platforms very soon.

I write a lot of heavy shit, so I tend to write contemporary dramas, but I'm a sucker for fantasy and sci-fi as well. ADHD brain demands multiple sources of excitement, so I tend to just write whatever's ticklin' my fancy at the minute.

I miss being in (digital) community with other writers / creatives, so I'm looking forward to connecting with folks here. I'm also just trying to get out of my own way and stop taking myself so seriously.

Life is short, the world is on fire, and the imaginary gay people in my brain want to be free - so I reckon I oughta let them, yanno what I mean?

Anyway, nice to meet y'all.

See ya when I see ya.

[sissylittlefeather]

Y'all know I like brain breaks when I'm working on a series. (Are they brain breaks or does my ADHD just get the better of me? 😂). Either way, I wrote this dirty little thing just for fun. I hope you enjoy it! I'll come back to This is the Story and the 200 requests soon!

You're the Boss

A/N: There is very little plot here. It's almost pure smut. But it's set during the '70s Vegas era. It's an Elvis x fem!reader fic and will definitely be a one-shot. Also, this one plays with a dominant woman and kind of subby(ish) Elvis.

Warnings: this is absolutely 18+ only, MDNI!!! Cussing, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (with a stranger), swallowing, teasing, and the reader being pretty dominant. I hope that's everything.

This is the outfit he's wearing:

Elvis walks into his suite after the show to find you there, sitting on his bed with your shoes off.

"Now, what the hell, honey? Who are you?"

"It's not important."

"How did you get in here?" He reaches for the firearm strapped to his ankle, just in case. He holds it casually in his hand as he listens.

"I paid Joe $5,000 cash to bring me in here."

"Remind me to fire his ass in the morning."

"I will, if I'm still here." He moves toward the phone to call security.

"Are you really going to kick me out so soon?" You stand up and let your silver sequined dress fall to the floor, revealing matching red lingerie. His eyes move up and down over your body.

"I might be persuaded to let you stay." He says with a playful smirk. He lays the gun down on the side table and walks toward you.

"Get on your knees, honey."

"Oh no, Elvis. Tonight I'm the boss." You say, giving him a devilish smile. He thinks about what this means and looks at you again standing there in your bra and panties.

"I'm not sure about that, honey."

"Can you follow instructions?" He's never had a woman come in and take charge like this. He can't tell if he likes it. You take two steps towards him and lay your hand on his chest where his jumpsuit is open. Then you whisper in his ear.

"I asked if you could follow instructions." A shiver runs down his spine and electricity gathers between his legs. He likes it.

"Yes, baby, I think I can." You back away from him and sit on the bed again.

"Good boy. Take your suit off." He nods and unzips his jumpsuit, removing the heavy mirrored belt and dropping it gently on the floor.

"Don't lose that." He picks the belt up again and raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, why is that?"

"You'll see. Now, suit, off." He finishes removing the light blue jumpsuit and stands before you totally nude.

"What's next, baby?" He asks nervously.

"Put your belt back on." You smile deviously as he picks up the belt again.

"Honey, are you sure?"

"Put it back on." You say firmly, but playfully. He wraps the belt around his waist and fastens it. You look him up and down, noticing how hard his cock is as it twitches where it stands. You reach out and grab the top of his belt, dragging him over to where you sit on the bed. You reach back and unclasp your bra, dropping it to the floor. You stand up just long enough to slide your panties to the floor and then sit back down on the edge of the bed.

"Get on your knees." You direct him, tugging downward on the belt. He obliges, situating himself between your legs. You spread your thighs and put one on each of his shoulders. Then you run your fingers in his hair and drag his face forward to your pussy.

"I want to come twice before I touch your cock." He nods and leans forward, pressing his mouth to your dripping center. He starts by running his tongue up your slit and stopping at your clit. He licks over and around it in circles, lapping at the core of your desire. He moans softly and you throw your head back as he works. You notice he's touching himself as he licks you.

"Did I say you could do that?" You ask, pushing his head away from your clit.

"No."

"Then stop." He groans and stops stroking his cock.

"Use your hands." He runs the hand he had on himself up your thigh and presses two fingers into you. His other hand is around your thigh. You guide his head back down until his tongue makes contact with your throbbing clit. You are ready to come undone at his touch. He goes back to working his mouth over and around you, and pleasure runs through you uncontrollably. You throw your head back and moan.

"Yes, just like that baby. Don't stop." He follows instructions and keeps devouring your pussy, sliding his long fingers in and out of you fervently, his rings pushing up against your entrance. You feel the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly and know your orgasm will meet you soon. Still, he continues to lick and lap at you passionately. It's like he's trying to earn the next step by fucking you so well with his mouth. Finally, you feel the coil snap and your orgasm washes over you with wave after wave of pulsating ecstasy.

But he doesn't stop. You demanded two and he follows instructions. He runs his tongue up either side of your clit before sliding it back and forth over your sensitive bud. He eats you like its his last meal, licking and sucking and pushing his fingers in and out deeply. Finally, you feel a second orgasm gather between your legs and moan as it slams into you, filling you with an electric current that buzzes out to your fingertips and back again. Your fingers are still wrapped in his hair, so you pull his head back off of you. He looks up at you, chin and lips wet with your arousal. His eyes are searching yours for what comes next, hoping it's satisfaction for himself.

"Stand up." Again, he listens, wiping his mouth with his hand. You scoot backwards on the bed and grab his belt, pulling him on top of you.

"I want you to fuck me until I tell you to stop." He nods, lining the tip of his dick up with your sopping wet entrance.

"Can I start?" He asks almost innocently.

"Yes." You reach around and grab his ass, plunging him deep inside you.

"Oh god." He moans as he feels your tight wetness envelop him. As he picks up a steady rhythm of fucking into you, you hear the jingling of the chains on his belt. It's a rhythmic sound that pounds in time with his balls slapping against your ass, your hips slamming together in controlled chaos. The sound is unbearably satisfying and the combination of the chains tickling your hips and the cool, smooth surface of the belt against your stomach is a new kind of delicious.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come." He whispers to you. Just when you think he's close, you push him out of you and onto his back.

"Stop." He groans and rolls over reluctantly. He was so close to coming that his balls are crying out for a release. You climb on top of him and realign his cock with your entrance. Then, you slide down onto him slowly, letting him feel every inch of him enter you.

"Baby, can I please just..." he begs and tries to fuck you from underneath. You stop him moving with him pushed deep inside you.

"Did I say you could move like that?"

"No ma'am." He answers desperately. He's tantalizingly close to coming. You sit up on your knees with just the tip of him inside you. Then, you proceed to bounce up and down on the top inch of his cock, teasing him.

"Oh, fuck, baby, you're gonna kill me." He half moans, half whines.

"You want more?"

"Yes, fuck."

"Tell me what you want."

"I want your pussy."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to fuck me right now."

"Who's the boss?"

"You are, baby. Oh god, you are."

"That's right." You drop down onto him, letting him fill you fully. He groans loudly and leans his head back, with his mouth partially open.

You grab onto the thick belt and pull against it as you grind on him, pushing him deeper and deeper, the cold mirrored surface of the belt rubbing against your clit. When you feel his movements change as he approaches his release, you pull up off of him. He whimpers, thinking you're going to tease him again, but instead you pull his whole cock into your mouth and suck.

"FUCK." His hips buck up into you as he comes hard and you swallow every drop. You use the belt to hold him still against the bed while you finish sucking his release from him. His legs start to shake and he whimpers again. You lick up the bottom of his shaft one last time and then sit up and lay next to him on your back on the bed, both of you sweating and breathing heavily. He turns his head to look at you and you look at him.

"Feel free to break into my suite whenever you want."

You roll over and kiss him softly on the mouth. He's a little shocked by the tenderness with which you kiss him after the way you just fucked him, but he doesn't argue.

"I need to go." You whisper as you roll over to stand up.

"Go? Now just a minute, honey, you don't have to rush off."

"I really do." You pull your underwear and bra back on and slide the shiny silver dress back on over your head. When you slip your shoes on, Elvis stands up to protest. You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his waist. He puts his arms around you too, but the embrace doesn't last long as you unfasten the belt and pull it off of him.

"What...?" You wrap the belt around your own waist and fasten it. Your hips are wide enough to keep it on you. He looks at you in stunned disbelief.

"Are you really leaving?"

"I am."

"And you're taking my belt."

"Mhmm. Is that a problem?" He should say yes, he's supposed to wear it again, but he doesn't. Instead he shakes his head and gives you an incredulous smile. He'll come up with some excuse about why he won't wear it again.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?"

You walk to the door of the suite, belt jangling as your hips swing. When you turn back to look at him, he's sitting on the side of the bed naked. You blow him a kiss and walk out the door, closing it quietly behind you.

He never sees you, or his belt, ever again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I'm never sure who to tag:

@ccab @elvisfatass @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @ab4eva @elvisalltheway101 @joshuntildawn13

If you want a permanent spot on my Taglist for anything and everything, let me know! 😂

[lokavisi]

So about two nights ago, I had a really solid conversation with Loki. A friend got some cues from him through their pendulum, we were both very confused, and then my wife (who barely gives a shit about the Guy lol) interprets this message so pristinely. It was like getting slapped upside the head when she gave her explanation. So I started free writing to continue the conversation more directly with Loki. There were a few big points made in this conversation.

First, he expressed frustration that, in spite of working with him for 4 years now, I still don't seem to "get" him. Like I keep coming to him to vent about some bullshit that's winding me up, he offers a suggestion to help me unwind, and then I brush it off or forget or just straight up ignore it. So he was like, "I've been telling you the same shit for 4 years now... It feels like you're just fundamentally ignoring all the parts of me that make me, ME." So...naturally I felt really fucking stupid and shitty.

Then he very lovingly affirmed that "this isn't me being facetious or angry or trying to put you down. I'm frustrated and irritated, yes, but surely you do realize by now that I fucking love you and you're stuck with me." This meant a lot to me more so than it might for others because my ADHD comes with mad rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Any time anyone says something that indicates some level of upset at me, my brain catastrophizes and breaks down because "clearly" it means they hate me. (This is basically never the case.) This leads me to the primary nugget of wisdom that came from this conversation.

I realized this whole time (once my wife interpreted the initial message) I was hearing him more clearly than I had in a long time. It was nearly as if a physical person sat next to me speaking. As the conversation was wrapping up, I made a note of this and asked, "Why do I feel l hear you clearest when you're frustrated with me?" We've had plenty of similar conversations, and when I look back at past moments when I simply couldn't deny the messages were coming from outside myself, he usually had some level of frustration with me. But to answer my question, he said:

"Because that's all you wanna hear. That's all you think you deserve. Even when you seek love or comfort and I provide, you don't always fully receive it. I try to be funny to cheer you up and you won't have it, just calling me stupid. You are terrible at receiving input that doesn't put you down or reinforce any negative thoughts you believe about yourself. So stop it. Seriously. Fucking stop believing bad shit about yourself."

He went on to talk about the rune readings I did for a bunch you on here (thanks again for the practice❤️), and how I should be pumping myself up from all the positive feedback I got from it. And we exchanged some jokes and "I love you"'s before calling it a night.

As per usual, I share my story in a giant block of text to remind everyone of what Loki reminded me: to not just take in the messaging that supports a negative view of yourself. Allow yourself to believe that you are the gods' gift to humanity. (I just heard him say, "Seriously. I do it all the time. It works wonders for your self-esteem." 😂❤️) Maybe that verbage doesn't have the greatest connotations, but the point is to think more highly of yourself. Believe in the power and confidence that you possess. Even if it doesn't feel like you have either of these things, fake it til you make it - until you realize they've been here this whole time.

I'm on this struggle bus, too, y'all. We're gonna find ourselves together. Hail Loki ❤️

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 31 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | lessons | lesson 30 | lesson 32

normal and hard

now idk about the rest of y'all, but it took me a minute to make this choice. i was stuck between not knowing and thinking that he won't. there's a slight chance that he'd tell them in the instance kayden hadn't tried to talk to him and explain, but they did

levi cares too much about mc to let anything bad happen to them. he knows that if he tells one of his brothers, they'll tell lucifer. once lucifer finds out, he'll be furious, and not only that, he'll be terrified

lucifer masks his fear with anger, like we've seen him do in season one of nb and multiple times in the og game. this also makes me really like the peacock theme throught his demon form; they're big ass, scary ass birds who try to show up other birds by flaunting their feathers to make themselves look better. but instead of lucifer doing it for mating tactics, he does it to protect himself and his brothers from any harm that could come their way

leviathan knows this. he doesn't want mc to get hurt, even with the possibility of him never seeing them again looming over his head constantly. he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he caused anything bad to happen to them, especially if it turns out that he had the wrong idea about their conversation with solomon and that all his anxiety was for nothing

also the clock ticking in the background during this scene ??? impeccable tension building on the game devs' part. we're running out of time to make pacts with everyone, and solomon and mc both know it

goofy ass sticker chain 😭

mc 🤝🏽 me

blowing up people's phones when they ignore me or don't answer within 5 seconds

see i was also thinking lotan

but what if it just means they're all gonna have a crying fest once kayden has to leave for good??

...it's probably lotan

what if it's both? AND lotan? and a long awaited reappearance of henry the snake 🫶🏽

baby no :((

i wish he realized his worth more, but removing yourself from a cycle of self-deprication and self-loathing is easier said than done

i think he's feeling guilt on top of his already expressed betrayal and self-loathing. he doesn't think he deserves all the care and patience mc is trying to give him, and he hates the fact that they keep trying to talk to him when he won't budge. he thinks they're wasting time by even trying to be around him because it "doesn't matter" when he's not around, or, at least it shouldn't in his mind

this is even worse than what i thought initially MY HEART

and it hurts even more bc levi might not have been able to say this if he was face to face with mc. he's never said anything quite like this to them in all the screentime he's had when he's being vulnerable around mc

imagine if he hadn't heard the conversation between them and solomon? mc leaving him would've hurt so much more bc he wouldn't have had any proper reassurance from mc to tell him that they love and care for him as much as he loves and cares for them, if he even thinks they feel that strongly about him at all

i guess it was lotan. well

also ending a lesson like that is insane but i digress

me 🤝🏽 mammon

adhd twins

THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS BACK i can die happily now

but why is she talking like chloe from miraculous ladybug (iykyk)

also we STILL haven't made a pact with beel after that hassle of an angel trial i'm sick

[anexperimentallife]

Help a disabled, neurodivergent, interracial family get back to the US for medical treatment

After three bouts of COVID and other medical issues over the past six years here in the Philippines, my health has deteriorated to the point at which I'm worried I won't get to watch my little girl grow up unless I can get back to where I can use my Medicare and VA benefits for various surgeries and treatments.

Unfortunately, even with all y'all's help, @thesurestthing and I are still in debt from the two-year ordeal of fixing our daughter's stateless status, so we can't do this on our own. My little sister started a fundraiser for us, and there are a couple of other ways to help, as well. If you can't help, please reblog. Thank you! (The PayPal link takes the lowest fees, but whatever works for you is best!)

If you want more details, they're under the cut:

Six years ago, while still grieving the deaths of my adult sons and a painful breakup, I moved from the US to the Philippines with just what I could carry, in large part because it's actually possible to survive here on the pittance US disability pays. I had kind of given up on life and figured I would sort of drift off eventually. I wasn't going to kick my own bucket, mind you; I just wasn't going to try very hard to keep living. And I figured I'd just pass away someplace beautiful.

Soon after I got here, though, @thesurestthing (also American) started messaging me from the states, told me she was going to come to the Philippines and be my girlfriend (even though I told her no at first), and eventually joined me here. We had a baby under lockdown, and got married.

So now I had something to live for. (And most of y'all know the drama with the error on El's birth certificate that left her stateless and took almost two years and a lot of money to get fixed.)

But I have had health scare after health scare over the past few years, including three bouts of COVID (some of you remember the month I spent hooked up to an oxygen machine), two bouts of pneumonia, a persistent two-year foot infection that took surgery to clear up (and is going to require another surgery to keep cleared up), damage to my heart and scarring in my lungs from long covid, a literal hole in my throat that is growing bigger, a spine injury, joint injuries, osteo and rheumatoid arthritis, a traumatic brain injury that affects my memory and concentration, adhd, bipolar disorder, autism, and other issues.

(Not even getting into the dental stuff--Hope to be able to get that done before we go back, here where it's cheaper, because Medicare doesn't cover that.)

I'm terrified that I won't be alive to watch my little girl grow up unless I can get someplace where I can use my Medicare and VA health benefits.

An old friend of mine is a social worker and on the school board in a small Minnesota city with its own VA clinic, and has offered to help us get settled in there, but we still have to find a place to live (suitable for a couple that includes a physically disabled adult, and who have a toddler), some basic household goods, some cheap used transportation, and need to survive for a couple of months while Zoey looks for work.

Given our situation in general and the fact that right now my disability is our only income, we're probably looking at having to pay at least six months (or possibly an entire year) of rent up front in order to get anyplace to lease to us.

We can't stay with friends because every single stateside friend we have with a spare room also has a cat--and I have an anaphylactic allergic reaction to cats, meaning that I will literally die if I'm around a cat for too long. I've had to go to the ER because I slept in a room that had a blanket in the corner that a cat had momentarily lain on. The only way I can be around cats is if I'm on massive doses of immunosuppressive drugs, which, well... The whole issue here is that I keep getting deathly ill, so suppressing my immune system even more is a non-starter. Oh, and Fel D 1, the protein secreted in cat dander, saliva, and waste, can stay even on hard surface for up to two years, and even longer on porous surfaces.

Again, if we weren't still in so much debt from El's birth certificate debacle, we might be able to do this at least mostly on our own. But as things stand, we can't do it on our own. We need your help.

If you read all of this, thank you very much. And again, if you can't give, please reblog.

For more medical details, check my Rob Gets Medical tag. For more details about Eleanor's birth certificate saga, check my Baby El tag.