#me: self harms is scared and asked for help my mom: mad at me like when my sister did she held her and comforted her and called the crisis

[ultraviolencced]

you know how parents get divorced and hate each other when they lose a child well it’s like that but my mom to me

[nickfowlerrr]

After the last capital…

I’ve this scenario in my head :

Bucky and you are back to the old habit and arguing about something again… but you stand on the last step of the stairs and he is done with you (he wants to go upstairs to get his phone before he would leave) and pushes you beside but as clumsy as you are, you Trip and fell.

Bucky would be so mad at him self, because you’re hurt because of him again😩😩😩😩

hurt

pretty when you cry series masterlist

pairing: pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader

warnings: not really any? let me know if i need to add something pls! this fic is part of a series, and if you plan on reading it, please, please, please use caution and read all of the warnings!

words: 1.8k

notes: ten thousand years later lol thank you for sending this in! honestly i don't see pwyc!bucky even just lightly shoving reader especially after he made her fall last time lmao he's much more likely to just pick you up and move you out of his way instead but for the sake of the prompt, let's just go with it. <3 i'm on my laptop, so no emojis :(

"Where are you going?" you asked tensely, running around him to block his way to the stairs, the worry in your voice was evident, and even if it hadn't been, you knew he could sense the stress you were feeling. You stood on the last step, not letting him walk up the stairs. "You're not even trying to see things from my perspective," you accused, fully on the defensive.

He was fuming, blue eyes near scorching as he stared you down, jaw set and nostrils flaring. You knew you were edging too far, but you couldn't stop yourself, you couldn't let this go without being able to explain.

"How the fuck did you think I'd feel about this?"

You balked.

"I didn't- I, I don't," you fumbled for the right words, for an explanation but deep down you knew the truth. He had every right to be angry and you had no excuse. You knew how he'd feel about it, and that's why you tried to keep it from him.

"I'm not doing this with you right now," he bit out, moving to push past you. You were going to move to give him space to get past, not wanting to upset him anymore than you already had, but as you sidestepped, your socks slide on the wooden step and unsteadied you right when Bucky stepped up. His arm bumping into you when you were already off kilter and slipping on the step had you falling completely.

Your arm flailed out to grab onto the railing, trying to right yourself, but it did more harm than good as your feet slipped off the step. You had turned your body while trying to grab the rail and so instead of your ass hitting the stairs, your hip hit the edge of the step below you hard as you fell with a thud, and your elbow near simultaneously making contact with the step above you in the fall.

It happened in a second, and though he saw you wobbly, Bucky didn't help get you steady before you fell, assuming you'd get your balance. The instant he realized you weren't stopping yourself, it was too late to grab you.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he stormed, madder at himself for letting you fall now than he was about the argument.

"Ow," you huffed under your breath, grabbing your elbow and you sat up on the step, not bothering to look up at him. He was moving before you even registered him getting closer, pulling you up by your arm to stand. You were too embarrassed and maybe a little too scared to meet his eye, rubbing your elbow again when he let go of his hold on your arm.

You could feel his eyes dead set on you but still, you kept yours to the ground, swallowing thickly.

"Bucky, I'm sorry," you apologized, dejected. "My mom stopped asking about my love life a long time ago and I just- I don't know, I never thought to bring it up. It's not something I'm used to sharing-" you tried to explain before he cut you off.

"Stop," Bucky said harshly, your voice dying immediately.

You dared to peek up at him and were met with a torn look in his normally brighter blues. There was anger and hurt, and if you weren't reading into things, you'd say there might be regret, too.

"Are you okay?"

"I- yeah. I'm fine," you answered, uneasily.

He looked at you a moment longer before he continued up the stairs. You stood there not knowing what to do, considering following him or just leaving him be until he was willing to talk. You didn't come to a decision before he came back down not thirty seconds later. He'd shrugged his jacket on as he came down the steps and your breathing caught in your throat, heart rate picking up. Where was he going?

His narrowed eyes shot to you, and judging by the look you saw there, it was clear he was obviously still upset. "I'm going to the gym."

As he passed you, you grabbed his arm and he stopped on the bottom step you had previously been occupying. You were a step above him, allowing you to be about eye level with him as you meekly met his eye. You opened your mouth to say something but closed it when you accepted you shouldn't.

His glare eased up just the slightest as he considered you before he spoke again.

"I'm pissed off," he glowered as he said your name harshly, "I don't need your reasons why, I really don't want to fucking hear it.

I can't be around you right now. We're either going to end up fighting or fucking and either way you're gonna get hurt, because I am pissed the fuck off," he nearly snarled the reiteration. "So we're not doing this right now," he kept walking and you let go of his arm, watching solemnly as he grabbed his keys and headed for the front door.

"I love you," you quavered pathetically as he pulled open the door, stepping outside. He paused just a moment.

"Do you?" he shot you a heartbreaking look as you floundered at his response. Of course you did. He knew that. He felt it, undeniably. But, his words served their purpose. You fucked up and you hurt him. And he wasn't going to just let you off the hook this time and comfort you and tell you all was forgiven. It was the same thing time and time again. He needed you to deal with the fallout, alone, to get you to see that.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, he wanted to change his mind, go back inside, or at the very least tell you he loved you, too. But he couldn't.

He meant what he said earlier. He'd already let you get hurt on the stairs when he didn't help you the moment he saw you start to slip, something he never would've let happen if he wasn't so caught up in the anger and hurt swirling around in his head. If he stayed and you fought, he knew he'd say something without thinking and only make matters worse; and even if you didn't fight, he knew he'd be on you in an instant with the pent up emotions he was trying to keep at bay so he didn't go off on you completely. And he couldn't trust himself not to take things too far with you. You'd nearly passed out on him the last time you had anger fueled sex, he could still remember the nasty bruises he hadn't meant to leave you littered all over your skin and how sore you were for the few days after. The orgasms were incredible, but he didn't want to risk injury to you just to release some of the frustration he was feeling. That's what the boxing gym was for.

You'd talk when he got home and was a little more level headed, and hopefully you'd have come to a decision on what you were going to tell your family. He couldn't wrap his head around why you'd never so much as mentioned his name to them in the year since you'd been together. Like he was your dirty little secret, something you were ashamed of. The first few months he could understand, not even taking into consideration that you were soulmates and that should have prompted a quicker reveal to your family, but a whole year? He'd spoken to your sister multiple times when she'd facetime you and the entire time, she had no clue you and him were together. He wanted to know what lies you'd been telling her to avoid admitting the truth, but he knew that'd probably only piss him off more. He needed the time to cool off before he went back and had that conversation with you.

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

The door to your room opened gently as you glanced at the time, wanting to gripe about him coming home so late, but knowing you had no right to be the one who was upset tonight. You sat up and turned the bedside lamp on to give him some light. You nibbled your lip as you watched him, his hair was damp and he was dressed in a new change of clothes. He had his gym bag with him as he dropped it heavily by the closet, certainly needing to pack it with a new post workout outfit for the next time he would decide to shower at the gym, like he obviously had tonight.

Probably killing time before he inevitably had to come home to see you. Another flood of guilt and regret rolling through you.

"I told them," you informed him softly, his eyes glancing over to you before he walked toward the bed, his face not betraying whatever it was he was feeling. "And I'm sorry-"

"Shhhh."

You obeyed his wordless request as he climbed into his side of the bed, your eyes intent on his every move.

"I'm exhausted, and I'm not ready to talk about this tonight," he said as he moved the blanket to lay down. "Just come here," he coaxed with a huff, pulling you closer. You were pouting without even realizing it. There was a lot you wanted to say, but you stayed quiet. If he still needed time before he wanted to talk, you had to be okay with that.

As he pulled you closer, you wrapped your arms around him, cuddling into him, having sorely needed his comfort from the second he'd left earlier.

He sighed heavily as he rested his hand on your hip, you winced almost imperceptibly, but of course he caught it. He rubbed at your hip carefully as you laxed into him, his touch soothing.

"I'm sorry I made you fall," he apologized, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"'S not your fault,"

"Me bumping into you is what made you slip,"

"My socks made me slip. Granted, the nudge certainly didn't help, but," you smiled soft and fleeting. "I'm fine. Not your fault."

There was a moment of silence between you then before Bucky broke it.

"I'm still upset at you."

You knew he was, but hearing him say it out loud somehow made your guilt ten times worse. You tried to pull away, wanting to give him space, but he held you tighter. "No, don't," he told you.

You stopped trying and instead buried your head in his chest as he held you. "We'll talk in the morning," he said, and you nodded against him in agreement. He turned the lamp out and when he settled down again, you tilted your head up so your lips were just against his ear.

"I do love you," you whispered before placing a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek. You settled against him once again, his arms holding you as your head laid on his chest.

"I know," he said, his hands running up and down your back. "And I love you. Now go to sleep," he rumbled as he fixed the blanket around your bodies, content to rest in your mutual embrace for the night.

You had a lot to discuss come morning.

[salems-spaghettios]

It will be okay sweetpea pt.3

~Gwendoline Christie x pregnant!daughter!reader

Bold + Italic = flashback/memory

Italic = idk I used it for different things

Bold = thought

Warnings: light mention of alcohol, death, blood, miscarriage, somewhat descriptive self-harm, implied eating disorder, childbirth, self-depreciation, mental health, angst? (im probably forgetting something.)

A/n: this part has fluff fyi

“Darling?” She asked quietly in case you fell asleep, you hummed in response, letting her know you were conscious. “What happened to your legs and arms?” She had tears in her eyes. You didn’t know what to say, and you had been hiding your relapses so well. Well, in your eyes long sleeves and sweatpants is well hidden. “My darling girl.. Why?” Her last word is what broke you. You’re such a disappointment, she’s mad. She’s going to say you can’t be a mom. Tears streamed from your eyes. “Ifeltbadabouteverythingimsosorry.” you mumbled. You hid deeper into her chest. You didn’t really want her to hear you, but having lived your entire life with her, she understood your words. “It’s okay to feel bad, but it is never okay to suffer in silence. You won’t be alone in caring for your daughter, you’ve got me. And you have never been alone when caring for yourself, I’ve always been here. So, why neglect yourself recently my darling angel. I’m not mad at you, I just wish you would’ve talked to me. I’m sorry I didn’t notice how bad you were struggling as of recently.” She spoke so calmly, yet you could tell she was crying. Looking up into her eyes, you were right. She was crying. “Oh mum, I wanted to ask you for help, I just didn’t want to be a burden-” She stopped you “You have NEVER been a burden, I love you. I love helping you whether it mentally or with silly little things like picking up things for you during your pregnancy. I will willingly spend the rest of my life informing you that I am here for you.” The midwife came back into your room with a little crib holding your daughter, it was on wheels conveniently. You were concerned because your daughter was crying. “This tiny little one is healthy, but we would like to watch you both of course. Also we noticed the injuries on your arms and legs..” She looked at your mother, so you were aware of who the next sentence was for. “I have some bandages if you’d like to take care of your daughter yourself.” Oblivious to the conversation as soon as you weren’t involved. You were holding your daughter cautiously, scared you would hurt her. But she stopped crying as soon as you picked her up, making your heart swell up with joy. “I would like that very much, thank you” your mother was quick to reply. The midwife handed your mother the bandages, and left the room. Your mother moved next to you in the bed, you leaned forward so it wasn’t so awkward. She was set on going to bandage every newer scratch and every newer cut. Giving the area a kiss with each bandage, she went to your older scars and kissed them as well. She finished and held your cheek in her hand, you were fighting sleep but agreed to resting your cheek on her hand. “I love you mum.” You hadn’t told you loved her since you left for your doctors appointment, so long ago. She smiled “It will be okay sweetpea.” With that you fell asleep with your daughter in your arms, your mother laid down so she could hold you. She felt good, because she knew it would be okay.

THE END. THIS IS THE FIRST FAN-FIC I’VE EVER POSTED AND I KNOW IT'S TRASH AND I JUST DONT KNOW AHHHHHHHHHHHH.

[csa-survivor-confessions]

(?) First off, thank you admins for taking the time to run this blog- the resources and comfort y’all provide means so much. I’m on mobile so sorry for writing a poorly formatted novel length ask lol

I have unique trauma, and I never see it discussed anywhere else so in the interest of possibly helping someone who hasn’t put the pieces together yet I wanted to talk about it.

When I was around 3, I got a UTI (im a cis woman). My doctor wanted to make sure I didn’t have kidney reflux, so they ordered a test called a VCUG. In short, what they do is put a catheter in you with no sedative/topical anesthetic, pump your bladder full of radiocontrast fluid until it literally backs up to your kidney (incredibly painful), and then you’re supposed to piss it out on the table or into a towel. I read a study (Goodman et al 1990, can send a link if y’all are interested) researching the validity of children’s testimony in court about CSA trauma (like how accurately they could remember the incident), and the “test” they used is the VCUG because it has every characteristic of a rape, but it’s a medical procedure (direct, painful genital contact and penetration with a foreign object by a stranger while a parent watches). I had it done twice in 6 month, and when my doctor ordered a third test “just to see” my mom put her foot down and said no.

It was my first memory, but for 23 years of my life I believed it was an exaggerated or false memory because it seemed cartoonishly traumatic and I didn’t believe it was a real medical procedure. I thought that it was just an ultrasound and because I was so young and scared I constructed that memory. But it WAS real. I found my medical record and put the pieces together myself as an adult. my first memory is of strangers undressing me, touching me, my mother helping the nurses restrain me, them “taking photos” of me with ultrasound and X-ray equipment, being denied autonomy over my own body and being treated like a science experiment. My entire life, I’ve been so confused, not knowing why I can’t set boundaries or have normal relationships, or why I gravitate towards people who have severe trauma, and why I understood how they felt. I always felt guilty because I didn’t have a “story” like they did. I believed I was just Incredibly Fucked Up For No Reason because I grew up in a stable home (for the most part), and I felt like I didn’t “deserve” to have those feelings because I didn’t think anything happened to me. But it did, and it /severely/ traumatized me. Because it’s my first memory, it’s a cornerstone of my personality, for better or for worse.

So my question is- now that I know what happened, how do I cope with feeling like a victim if there is no true perpetrator? There is no face attached to my trauma, nobody to blame. I was a toddler, the doctors and nurses were just doing their job, and if my mom didn’t follow their advice she’d be accused of medically neglecting her child. I guess I can be mad at the for profit medical system and the fact that doctors are financially incentivized to order those tests, but I feel like I can’t get complete closure from that. I want to tell some of my friends who have opened up to me about their own csa trauma, but I feel inadequate. Like on one hand, I didn’t get raped. It wasn’t like a family member I trusted was coming into my room every night. But on the other hand, it’s more extreme in a way? Like a medical bdsm gang rape while my mom watched. It’s dehumanizing in a different way because I wasn’t even seen as an object of attraction, I was like a lab rat. I have all of the same problems, the disassociation, the identity issues, the sexual problems, addiction, and self harm in the form of an eating disorder. I know that its not fair or healthy to compare my trauma to anyone else’s, but I’m just anxious about the reaction I might get from my friends whose experiences were more “textbook” abuse. So I’m kinda testing the waters here, if y’all have any advice for me I’d appreciate it.

This is more of a confession than a question, but I also have a memory gap from ages 7-9, and my therapist thinks something else was happening because losing two entire years like that is Not Normal. I can’t even recognize myself in photos from that time period. It’s a pretty disturbing feeling. I was already showing hypersexual behavior around 6- is it bad to hope that I do find out someone hurt me, so I can have a face to my trauma? So that I can find someone to blame other than myself and externalize the pain?

thank you again for reading my novel again I’m so sorry for the formatting 💕

Hello,

I think it could be good to understand it as a medical trauma along with sexual aspects. It sounds like you had a doctor who didn't know what he was doing or had incentives to put you through unnecessary testing which could count as medical malpractice.

Medical trauma rather from necessary procedures or unnecessary is something that feels like a violation of bodily integrity. Because you are having things in your body that are not a part of you. It's not gang rape, but it is a group of people treating you not like a person and putting your body through extreme physical and emotional stress. That is extremely traumatic and will have huge effects on anyone, especially children.

I personally have gone through a lot of medical trauma along with my CSA and psychological abuse. I have nightmares, body memories and flashbacks to medical events.

You are not alone in having gone through rare medical procedures and experiencing medical trauma from them. It might feel like you have extremely unique trauma, but other people have experienced rare medical procedures that caused trauma reactions or feel like sexual assault. Many tests and medical equipment go into the body (all kinds of feeding tubes, ostomy bags, catheters, tracheal tubes etc) and can feel like our bodily integrity has been broken.

Even if there isn't one huge perpetrator because the people were doing their job, that doesn't make you to blame for what you are going through. You can blame the doctor I suppose for ordering a test you didn't need, but you can also blame no one. No one had to be "evil" for the trauma to be real. Medica trauma is extremely real and no one is always in the wrong, it's just extreme stress on the brain so you experience trauma being held in the body.

I think when you get thoughts about your trauma not being valid because there is not one perpetrator, try and counter that thought. Maybe something like medical trauma is real, and so are my feelings. You can also practice journaling or making art about your trauma as this will help externalize your story and organize thoughts and emotions.

Many coping skills and trauma processing therapies (examples: somatic experiencing or EMDR) that work for CSA will also work for you. There are nuances to every trauma type but many skills overlap. [Resources-Info & Coping Skills]

Your trauma is valid, important and discerning to be heard and respected. Because you were put through something that hurt you and that's important. You are important and so is your story.

I wouldn't tell your friends your trauma is worse, as I don't think it is going to go over well with them I would also say knowing your abuser found you sexy isn't a protective factor against becoming traumatized.

I think telling your friends could be good, maybe don't frame it as "I experienced the same thing you did" or "I went through some more unique so it's worse" but instead frame it closer to "I experienced extreme medical trauma that had similar effects to sexual trauma. I could use some support in dealing with it." I think that framing will get you the best outcomes. Because you deserve to have the way it affected your sexuality respected, but framing your abuse in competition with there's might cause bad results.

Wanting our abuse to look like what trauma is generally shaped as, looking for a perpetrator or wanting the trauma to be "worse" is all totally normal. You are not a bad person. Also please be careful with recovering memories trying to force it can hurt.

I hope some of this helps,

-Admin 1

[totally-not-a-tickle-blog]

Hey there everyone. This is a vent, if you don't want to read it, scroll down.

I know I never interacted with any of you that much, and I'm deeply sorry. Still, I always read every ask/request, every notification, I can't even get mad when people just like and don't retweet my posts unlike everyone else on tumblr; I just focus on the fact that someone actually liked it.

Still, I've never been so active here, and I'm so, so sorry. I love being in the tickle community, I've always wanted to be a known user, but my home's state right now isn't helping.

My mom is sick (schizophrenia) and it's constantly disturbing me every single day, taking each trace of happiness, dignity and even sanity that I have. She's the main reason that I'm crying almost everyday, don't matter if it's because I'm sad or angry - It's always her fault, and she never cares. She says that I'm doing a show infront of people just to embarass her, calling me dramatic. She's including even my panic attacks, that I also had because of her. I am NOT doing well.

My parents, grandpa, grandma, everyone of the family, they always tell me to forgive her because that's something of her mind, a psychologic illness and that she's not like that, but I can't just forgive her like they say I need to. She manipulates, lies, use me as an emotional support - I just can't. I'm so so tired.

Before I was simply terrified of the thought of dying, but now I can't even be that scared anymore. When I almost got hit by a car by accident I couldn't see the situation with a more clear vision, because I. Simply. Couldn't. Care. Like. They. Do. Atleast not when I'm the case. Fuck, I even see the marks that my cat left on my arms and LIKE TO SEE IT. I am literally indirectly self-harming myself, I. Fucking. CAN'T.

I want to bring these to this account, I want to draw, to write, to run, to search for a mid-time job, but I can't even get out of my bed without wanting to disappear.

I'm done. So done.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi. Can't think of trigger warnings, maybe for crappy therapy and a bad therapist and some mentions of physical illness. Looking for advice. Nickname purple

I'm just wondering if you have any advice on how to get over a fear of/reluctance to seek therapy (and to am extent medical care in general). More and more often I'm starting to think I'll never be able to function normally without some help but I'm so scared to get it. In part I think this came from my mom's own mental illness and how whatever pills she took (no idea what they were or even what they were for besides that there were a lot) left her so out of it all the time and sometimes made her destructive on top of neglectful, and from my dad's distrust of the medical system as a whole, to the point of ignoring his doctors after a heart attack, not seeing care for cancer until it had progressed too far too fix, and generally being reluctant to get me any medical care and being mad at my mom if she took me to the doctor for anything, because it was babying me and would make me think it was okay to be weak and I should be stronger and trust God before 'weird medicine'. Between that and most people in my life growing up basically thinking mental Illness isn't real and anyone who claims to have it is faking maliciously or, especially if they claim to have significant past trauma, flat out delusional (and yes, they applied this to me, even when I was actively suicidal or had visible marks from abuse).

I got sent to a therapist when I was twelve, against my will in a whole court ordered thing, and while I don't remember many specifics of the first session I know I was reluctant to talk and he ended up screaming at me until I shut down. The few additional sessions there were went better, though only because I coasted through and just tried to give the most 'normal' responses to anything he said so I'd be allowed out of it all sooner.

Now, well into adulthood, my issues have only gotten worse and worse. It feels my mind is falling apart and I'm so frequently scared, my emotional regulation and memory are practically non-existent. I can't get away from self harm or disordered eating (though I often doubt a therapist would think those things are significant), can barely keep myself from falling back into substances. I can barely get a job or keep it and sometimes the only thing keeping me here is being scared to die though sometimes that doesn't even work (I'm not actively suicidal right now just to clarify). More than ever it feels like I'm barely real or even alive.

But I'm still scared to even try to schedule a therapy or psychiatrist appointment. I'm scared I won't even be able to talk when asked what's wrong since more and more now I've been having verbal shutdowns, especially in frightening enchantments or under the slightest stress, which I respond to worse than ever lately. I've been thinking of writing down a summary of what's going on but I don't know if they'll accept that, if they'll want me to talk normally. I'm scared they'll want me to go into past trauma but I just can't, not to a stranger or sometimes to anyone at all. I'm scared they'll think I'm just making everything up and turn me away. I'm scared they'll think I'm just a whiny child that can't handle normal life, or I'm just looking for some excuse to not participate in society or get drugs or something (funny, since I'm afraid to take meds and I'd probably just refuse if prescribed something controlled). I'm just scared and I know I won't be able to take it if I get even a fraction of the treatment I did at that therapist back then or most other times I've tried to bring up anything wrong with me to people in my life. I just don't know what to do I'm sorry I'm sorry

Hi Purple, I am so sorry for your experiences, and would like to start by validating your mental health struggles, and trauma history, and commend you for the self awareness it takes to want to develop new coping skills for a healthy functioning base line. We all deserve the space and time to explore what that means for us, and I hope you find yours as well. It makes all the sense in the world to me, that with both your background, and experiences, that the thought of seeking out therapy would feel the way it does for you. I deeply empathize with it, and know it is something that unfortunately does happen within the medical community. I had the opportunity to reply to a previous ask about something similar that I'll link here as well, but essentially, I'd like to copy over two core parts of it: This link about red flags in therapists (not to discourage!) but to help validate your experiences and not potentially self-gas light yourself as you navigate new medical professionals along your healing journey.

But also this part:

"Of course it’s very understandable that without feeling safe, the appointment could feel so jarring that even if you meet a kind one, it could be hard to convey what you’re looking for.  

My first advice would be to ask if someone can go with you, someone you feel comfortable with, and who you might even be able to practice a dialogue with beforehand.  

Even if they can, or cannot come, my second piece of advice is to have your questions written down as well.  Worst come to worst, if you feel unable to verbally share your concerns, perhaps you could slide them over so they can reply.  

My third piece of advice is to ask for a print out of the after visit summary, with clear instructions and follow up to what the next steps might be - something you can refer to in the future as well." Regardless of what you choose moving forward, I hope you find someone who helps you feel seen, heard, and encourages you along your healing path.

Mod Kat

[awetistic-things]

🧋 a vent ab my parent <3

cw^^ anxiety attacks mentioned, verbal abuse, self harm mentioned, caps

|🍄| keep yourself safe and don’t read this if you know it will trigger! Ava has some cool non trauma dump posts that you can look at instead! |🍄|

she calls me names all the time. like all of the time. it’s not just annoying, it hurts. like a lot. she calls me things like a*hole and weirdo, jokingly. I always laugh though as a coping mechanism (no clue why??). me and my brother called her Karen when that was trending and she can’t get over it. telling her to get over it is not an option. last time I told her how I felt she got super angry and said “you have no right to tell me what to do” or something like that. I actually didn’t even tell her what to do, I asked a rhetorical question which effectively acts as a statement. anyways, it triggered an anxiety attack or something (?) idk. I didn’t have trouble breathing I was just very emotional and scared to the point where I was going to call the police because I thought she was going to hurt me (physically or verbally) and I wasn’t sure anybody in my house would help me or would be able to. she’s remarked multiple times that she could “really be crazy”. I locked myself in the bathroom for safety. I turned the light off to prolong her not knowing I was in there. I actually hid in the bathtub where you wouldn’t be able to tell if I was in there so if she unlocked the door from the outside she wouldn’t find me immediately. since we’re already here talking about things she’s done she’s also called me &my brother racial insults. whenever she’s mad she calls us the nword and it feels racially motivated. my siblings and I are all half black. she’s also technically half black but nobody would perceive her as such. she has white skin, we do not. that same day I got super scared and stuff my mom requested something from my brother. he said no because he has the right to do whatever he wants including say no. she got mad and somehow (most things are foggy from that night) we ended up driving to McDonalds to grab some food. she was speeding which also triggered me because I’ve been in a car accident before and even though it wasn’t a total wreck, it was still traumatic. speeding and slamming breaks is very triggering for me. my school bus driver recently slammed on brakes for no reason. she was trying to make a point that we should wear seatbelts, which, point taken but that triggered me so bad. I know it’s not really her problem but I was holding back tears. anyways sry for tangent back to the story. so we were on our way to McDonalds and she’s speeding. as she’s speeding she’s going on and on about how my brother is an nword hard r for saying no to her after “aLl ShEs DoNe FoR hIm”. she’s done nothing but abuse him and I only have sympathy for him. she does this all the time. you say no and she gets so mad. she’s diagnosed with bipolar something but I’m not sure exactly what. I don’t talk about it because I’m afraid of her reaction. I’m scared that I will literally die. my siblings are moving out. as selfish as this is, I won’t have anymore protection. I’ll be her therapist and her outlet for anger, frustration, everything. my other parent isn’t even an option for me. I would rather be homeless than live with him. Surprisingly, I don’t self harm. that actually makes me feel very invalid but I’m pretty sure daily verbal abuse is sufficient trauma. (any trauma is “sufficient“!)

anyway that is a LONG ask. side note completely unrealted: my crushes name is ayva but I’m not gonna ask her out like ever bc she hates me for some reason (probably the autism!!) and is a suspected homophobe. but anytime I go back to your carrd to check your ask rules and stuff bc I always forget and/or wanna double check I think of her 💕. also if you want to hear more about my family issues or my crush (pls ask me to talk about her pls) or something I’ll do it ig?

if you actually sat here and read this whole thing ily forever and ever and ever! 🫂💏 /p

[tw: check ask]

[firefly-sky]

long ass vent under the cut because i’m kinda mad rn i know none of this is coherent but whatever

why is my mom not letting me shower like i have to ask sometimes if im allowed to shower because if she doesn’t know where i am even if im just in the shower i get screamed at because she ‘might have needed help while i was in the shower’ so i had to ask and she told me i wasn’t allowed because im too lazy like okay? sorry i wanna like wash my hair, i didn’t know that was something that could be revoked because i ‘don’t do enough’ like son of a bitch nothing i do will ever be good enough and she wonders why im ‘sad all the time’ like maybe it’s because of little things like this or the fact that she brags to my family members about how she was able to ‘whip me into shape’ by spanking me as a kid. like i get i wasn’t beat black and blue every day but still she’s always screaming at me and doing little things like not letting me shower or making subtle hints that i need to ‘look more muscular like my brothers because they work hard and i don’t’ or just yesterday when i got out of the shower and she told my my hair looked greasy and oily and then she acts like she’s doing me a favor. she always tells me she ‘won’t let me go out looking like an idiot like at this point everything is just coming up and i’m so fucking mad but i know i have no right to be. it’s not like she abuses me regularly. i’m fine and this is stupid and i’m just being a brat. just like always i guess. whenever i try to talk to her about how she makes me feel she tells me i’m being a snowflake and to grow a pair and that i need to save it for the therapists chair when im an adult in this sarcastic ass voice. she told me that when i got sad that she was gonna miss my eighth grade send off dance because it was important to me and she just told me ‘whatever no go save it for the therapists chair’ like god. and then she posts some ‘love is love’ thing for pride and tagged my brother in it and is acting like she never threatened to send me to conversion therapy because i thought i was a boy. whenever i step out of line she threatens to send me away and at this point im questioning on whether or not she actually wants me gone or not because sometimes i don’t even feel welcome. she calls me a snowflake and says if she wanted to abuse and beat me she would’ve by now but all of it is just so fucking frustrating. she gaslights me all the time too and that’s more infuriating because then my dad takes her side. no matter how hard i try i’ll never be good enough. she didn’t even bother to say anything when i told her my anxiety keeps me up at night and causes me to contemplate self harm. and she always refers to my brother as a ‘top five genius’ because he’s going to a prestigious ass school and she bought everything she could but i know by the time it’s my turn she won’t do half of that because im never going to make it because im fucking stupid. and sometimes i just feel like nothing to her because she’s either threatening to send me away or she’s ragging on me about how my brother is better than me and it’s so maddening. i guess that’s why i get so lost in fantasy shit and then i feel pathetic. i’m forced to grow up too fast by her because ‘you’re almost seventeen you can’t be doing that anymore’ and she’s been doing that since middle school. she also used to pull the age old ‘if i die tonight and i left without getting a hug from you you’ll be really sad’ type bullshit. she’s always talking about how ‘when she dies i’m gonna regret being mean to her’ or whatever. and then i fucking wonder why the thought of being alone sends me into a panic attack because she’s been saying that stuff since i was four. i remember having a full on meltdown because i was scared of my mom dying because she left telling me she was gonna die that night and i’d be sad if i didn’t say i loved her or something.

i don’t like complaining like this because it doesn’t solve jack shit. but it’s just so maddening. i don��t have it bad. i really don’t. these are just small inconveniences. i guess.

[thefittymindset]

In Fitty's Footsteps: Navigating 6th Grade

The first time I ever had a direct encounter with suicidality was when I was in the 6th grade. For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with (at the very least) anxiety and depression. Leading into that school year, I had a friend who engaged in self-harm (for the sake of this post, let's call her Clara).

Clara was my best friend. One day at gymnastics, when we were washing our hands to get off the chalk after doing the uneven parallel bars, I caught a glimpse of her wrists. She had at least 3 cuts, running horizontally. When I went to say something about it she pulled me into a bathroom and swore me to secrecy, saying I could never tell anyone what was going on with her.

At the time I was 12 years old, but even then I knew that I had to tell someone, it was clear to me she needed help. The next day when I was at school, I decided to go to the guidance department about it. I told my counselor and shortly after she called Clara and her mom into a meeting.

When the meeting was over and it was time for lunch Clara cornered me and started yelling. "I told you not to fucking tell anyone," is the only snippet of this event that is still clear in my mind. Essentially, at first, Clara was super mad at me, she told me that she never wanted to talk to or see me ever again. I was super upset, at the time she was my best friend and without her I felt like I had no one.

Eventually she came around when she was in a better place mentally, and then she was thankful for me. But this quickly began to become problematic, as she was a terrible friend to me and whenever she sensed I was distancing myself she would tell me that the only reason she was alive was because of me... this made me feel like I couldn't stop being friends with her, I was scared of what she would do to herself. I did get out of that toxic friendship eventually, the last time we talked she accused me of bullying her (I asked all my friends if that was true, they all said it was the other way around) and I haven't talked to her since.

This post is dedicated to someone who has been there for me since I was 5 years old, my best friend Crissy. In the past, we've had some experiences where we are very hot and cold with each other but for my whole life, she has been the most consistent relationship I have had and for her I will be eternally grateful.

[raunter]

I think I write a lot about her. I still write about her now, years later. What they say about grief turns out to be right, in the end. It doesn’t go away.

Always feels really weird talking about /grief/ when mentioning her; to my knowledge she’s alive and well and maybe even thriving, finally free from her parents’ expectations, somewhere else. She’s living. She’s well, even. I think I’ve written so much about how I felt, how raw the whole deal was then, how it could still get me to cry or become frustrated or want to kick things over. What have I been grieving?

She apologized to me three years ago. I never replied.

Maybe that has to do with it. Thing is, I wasn’t that much of an upstanding friend when we had that falling out. The depression and unmedicated ADHD in an entirely foreign environment didn’t help, definitely, but I was also just... maybe a bit of a pushover. I was in love with her, definitely, not romantically but I thought I’d die for her, or something like that. I thought if she became someone successful and brilliant and definitely out of my league to keep hanging out with I’d still be there, just hovering in the corner. Because I wouldn’t have been able to let go of what we had. I would’ve taken any scrap of time she’d have to spare for me until she told me personally to get lost. Or, maybe, that’s just me imposing my current mindset on the person I was back then; I don’t think I understood my own intrinsic worth as a human being then. I thought self-sacrifice were romantic and noble and desired. I thought devotion may save us from time itself. I was 19.

In the end I walked away first. So much for all that, huh? I didn’t even really realize she was a different person, that she was going down a sad, terrifying path. I just thought I’ve been so deeply terrified of talking to her, of hearing the way she talked about who I ultimately am, still, of who I could be. I was so scared that I wouldn’t catch it and she’d call me something terrible to my face and it’d explode into something that’d ruin me. In the end she saved herself.

I’m not a hero. I’m nobody’s hero. Even with the deeply, wholeheartedly foolish devotion of a kid just knowing adulthood for a short while, I folded and left the moment it got rough. Which-- I have to believe it’s anyone’s rights to. I have to believe it, or I’d be doing so much more harm than just this bit of guilt. I have to believe my mom always has the option to leave, that my friends do, that they can tell me when I’m acting like shit, so that I can internalize that their friendship with me is genuine. That they do like to hang out with me. But, but. Still.

I think I wanted, still want, so badly to be a hero to her, because it would’ve made us something special, or something like that. Or just, it wouldn’t have ended us, at all. If I were better, if I were better at defusing situations, at talking, at-- manipulating people into being better to themselves? If I were some kind of mastermind, a benevolent god, a fucking. Angel of the lord, or whatever. If I weren’t me, maybe we’d still be friends.

I’m so fucking mad that we ended. I’m so fucking mad that she changed, and into someone I was fucking afraid of. I want us back, except not really, I don’t like who I was, and I think she wasn’t happy being her teen or early twenty self either. I want her to be happy, and I want her to have never been radicalized by fucking chuds online, and I want us to have still been friends since. I want no have never lost any of it. I messaged my mutual friends asking if he still talked to her. I was satisfied he was, what, choosing me over her? I’m not a good person. I’m trying so fucking hard to be. I’m barely trying. I don’t fucking know.

I make jokes about it all the time, now. I make jokes about how uptight her parents were, how /civilized/ and /learned/ they act, while seething inside about how much I hate them, for putting that burden of expectations on her, for not being good enough to steer her right when she arrived at a new environment. I make jokes about us being that stereotypical codependent gay bordeline-romance obsessive best friends, while being so fucking tired, so fucking frustrated, that it ended like that. I make jokes about so many things I had with you, I joke that you took all the fandoms in the divorce, I joke that I became too weird for you. I’m so fucking angry all the time, that we’re ruined. I can’t blame you, still, after all these years. You were in a new environment, we weren’t seeing each other face to face, I could barely keep up with what you were getting into, and even if I could, I wouldn’t have been enough to support you. Despite all my bravado, all my self-destructive daydreams in my 19th year on earth, I was still just some fucking kid. I was deep in depression on my own, I thought, every day, continually, that I was already not enough for you. I wasn’t fucking showering because I couldn’t handle the change to my routine. I was sleeping 16 hours a day. I was going outside twice a week to get groceries. I was piling trash in my room. I was not enough, because I was fucking ill, I was dying. That fucking country turned us both inside out. The world saw fit to kill us, to tear us apart, to not let us have this. I don’t know. I’m mad, and there are villains, but I know already getting up in arms about them wouldn’t be satisfying. Nothing would be, except for it to have never happened.

I miss you, a nebulous, unreal version of you I make up based on the person I loved, six years ago when I realized I lost her. I miss you so fucking much. I want to blame you for having taken away my sense of identity, for having defined so much of me with yourself, we were fucking inseparable, I followed you home after school every day like a fucking puppy, I was nothing without you. But that’s not fair, because this fucking condition means I wouldn’t have an identity anyway. I know now, after being not-your-friend for years, that who I am is always a cacophonic mess that doesn’t make sense even to myself. So, really, you gave me an identity at all, rather than took over any that I had. You were so kind to have grown attached to me, to have been my friends for seven years, before you weren’t, and I fucking miss you so much. I loved you. I love you. I love you. Maybe I haven’t been grieving, I’ve just realized I love you, still, and you’re definitely dead. You don’t survive this kind of change. The kid I was when I was with you died, too.

I think I’m a bit scared that if I answer you, you’d turn out to have become someone I can only be an acquaintance with. I accept your apology; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t on either of us, that we ended up hurt. Sometimes it just turns out that way. It still kills me that you called me brave; I’m really brave when standing up for myself, when refusing to change for anyone else, when looking after my own whims and running away from you. I wish I were braver. I wish I were just a bit worse. Just a bit more obsessive. I don’t know. I don’t actually wish it. It doesn’t get any less confusing, years out, growing up. I miss you.

I hope you’re happy where you are. I’m happy where I am too, I’m just also not healed yet. I don’t think I ever will, or at least it’d take a long, long time. But I /am/ happy. I understand more about the way my brain works, I accept it’s how it is, I get to draw for a living, people actually care about my art sometimes, I’m still trans and aroace and I have many friends I love, who are in turn very kind to me. Seeing things that remind me of you don’t turn me away anymore. I hope you’re still enjoying something mundane and weird and inconsequential to the rest of the world out there. I really, really hope you’re having fun, you deserve it, no matter if I love you or not. Thank you for being my friend for seven years. Thank you for apologizing. I’m really sorry I never replied. I don’t know if knowing any of this would help or mean anything to you, but I want you to know you’re forgiven. I want you to know I hope you learned, to look out for yourself, to not cave to expectations, to understand your own compassion. I want you to know you’re loved, not because we’re friends, but because I’m learning to be more compassionate too, to be a better person. You’re loved because you exist and it’s the right thing to do, that’s it. I hope you have a good day, and the day after too.

[etherealhiraethsworld]

I am mad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[i-cant-sing]

You mentioned platonic yandere rei and enji, how would that go?

 Yandere Platonic Enji & Rei Todoroki

I am so glad you asked. Last post of the year, so... enjoy! Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Enji & Rei Todoroki:

I think having them as platonic yanderes would be fun. And dangerous, but mostly fun.

So maybe you're from an abusive home, or maybe you just looked liked a helpless or troubled teen that needed help. Both financially and emotionally.

Post redemption Enji has been looking for a second chance at raising a family. Rei has forgiven him, but his relationship with his kids is broken beyond repair.

Rei's also looking for a way to show her maternal love, but her kids have learned to grow up without her and her affection. They may have forgiven her, but they've grown up now and don't need her anymore.

So when they find you, they know they have to have you. You need them and what kind of people would they be if they left you all helpless?

Enji is the no. 1 hero, so he has all the resources he needs to make your family disappear and have you adopted. Of course, they don't want to kidnap you; they want you to have a normal life.

Once they've adopted you, you will be, and this is an understatement, spoiled.

Enji will buy you anything you want. Anything you need, it'll be in your hands before you could even ask for it. He'll give you more pocket money than any other kid, and he'll even give you his black credit card that has no limit.

Rei will be showering you in all of her maternal love. She will be cooking you the most delicious food and all kinds of snacks, but she'll make sure you only get the best organic food that are full of nutrition! If you compliment her cooking skills, she'll kiss your cheeks and ruffle your hair, memorising your favourite dishes.

Rei will also be helping you dress up, even if you're more than capable of doing it yourself. She'll be buying you clothes and accessories, deciding whats appropriate for an event, and pick out your outfits. Just be glad she's not helping you in and out of your clothes.

Although Rei loves doing your hair, even if you insist that she doesn't have to, Enji will also enjoy doing your hair. He's bad at it, never being able to do more than a simple ponytail, but he's willing to learn.

They're both very protective of you, a simple scratch on your knee will send them into overdrive. Rei will be the one to ice your bruises while Enji will be bandaging you up and making sure no serious damage has occurred. And if you ever get sick, they'll be fretting all over you.

You aren't allowed to go to sleepovers, but they're more than happy to host as many as you want. Rei would be the fun cool mom who easily befriends everyone, while Enji will grace you friends with his prescene. He might even tell a heroic story of his.

Any love interests are out of question. And don't bother hiding any relationships; they'll always have some spying on you. They're either threatened or paid off. You don't need anyone besides your family.

They're going to be sending you to the best school in Japan and they will be making sure that they both attend all of your school meetings and extracurricular activities. Even if Enji can't make it, which rarely happens, Rei will always be there to cheer you on. She missed all of this with her kids, she's not going to miss yours.

Enji will be proud of all of your achievements, no matter how small. And he'll even place them on the fridge or boast to Hawks about you. Enji will make sure to tell you how happy he is and if he's extra proud, he'll pat your head.

Quirkless or not, they don't want you to become a hero. Its too dangerous. Why not be a baker or an artist or better yet, don't work at all. They have more than enough money to support you for generations.

Still, if you insist, they'll let you go to UA, but Enji will use his influence to make it difficult for you to get job offers at hero agencies. If you do want to work, why not work at the no. 1 heroes agency? This way, you get to work with the best, and he gets to keep you out of harms way. Plus, now that you're under his wing, Enji has more motivation to not only be the no. 1 hero in Japan, but also no.1 in your eyes.

He will train you himself, but will always make sure not to go hard on you and not let you over exert yourself. If you compliment any of his moves or try to copy them, his heart swell with affection and he'll chuckle as he looks at you with adoration.

Enji will make you his sidekick, fighting off all the villians alone before you even get a chance to. But accidents happen, and so when you get hurt, really badly, by a villian during a fight, Enji will forget all of his principles and incinerate the criminal alive. Then he'll pick your bloody body up and rush you to the hospital and get you treated; he'll even threaten the doctors and the hospital.

Rei will be at the hospital as soon as she hears about your condition. She'll be crying into Enji's arms while he feels guilty that he let you get hurt. Once you wake up, they'll both come into your room and let out a sigh of relief. Rei will be kissing your forehead as she cries tears of joy, while Enji will hold your tiny hand in his large one, looking at your bruises and bandages with worry. They both look at each other and make a silent vow to never let this happen again. Never again.

If you thought they were too overbearing before your incident, think again. Once you've come home, they won't let you have any personal space. They'll be breathing down your neck every second of the day they can. They'll rarely let you out of their sight, and they'll be infantalizing you a lot more. Working as hero was thrown out the window the moment you got hurt. And you'll be rarely let outside of their home, unsupervised especially. Its safer home, princess. We can't afford to let you get hurt again.

If you do manage to sneak out, this is when you'll see their ugly side. Enji will quickly have you brought home, either by himself or by his colleagues. And once you come home, you'll see angry Rei for the first time. Rei would be yelling, screaming at you for being so careless, so stupid. You'll be so scared, you'd be hiding behind Enji. Rei would be more than willing to freeze your legs and break them, just to keep you home. However, Enji will be the more level headed one, simply using his strength to put you into quirk cancelling cuffs.

You will be a whole lot more cautious of Rei now, because you know what triggers off Enji and he always gives you a warning before any sort of punishment. But with Rei, you don't know what sets her off. A simple look outside the window will make you the target of her rage. She'll grab your face, her nails embedded painfully deep in your skin, asking you if she isn't a good mother. "Am I not enough, (Y/n)? Why do you want to leave me? Am I a bad mother? Why do you hate me so much?!" She has hit you with her ice "accidentally" a lot, often knocking you out. Enji would often be the one to your rescue, calming Rei down and reassuring her that you won't leave them, before he comes over to check on you. Once Rei calms down, she'll realise what she's done and will be crying and apologising profusely.

Enji rarely gets mad at you. You're just his small, harmless princess. How could he ever be angry at you? But if he does get mad, he'll give you a pointed look, his turquoise eyes staring you down. And if you don't get the hint, then he'll hold your hand as he slowly warms it up. You always back down before you get burned. Don't worry though, Enji won't ever hurt you. He won't repeat the past.

Rei might return to her previous self, if you behave and reassure her that you won't leave her, but it'll take time. Enji will be wary of letting you out alone, but if you gain his trust back, he'll let you out with a few bodyguards.

Just sit there, be their good little kid, call them mom and dad, and everything will be taken care of.

There isn't a ship name for rei and enji, right? Renji? Reji? Erei?

Requests are open!

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Tales of Heroes

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x @mikaelson-emma

Request: Hi! Could I request a imagine/one-shot were the reader is Hayley’s sister (a hybrid) and has a child, but scarified herself to save the Mikaelson’s? She could romantically involved with Klaus, but her child isn’t his. She asks him to have him tell stories about her to the child, and one day she gets resurrected. Or it could something else! I love you writing and I am excited to see that you are taking requests! I hope you have a good day! ❤️❤️ -@mikaelson-emma Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Nope. Nothing I can think of. 

Author’s Note: I’M OVER HERE CRYING MY EYES OUT. Like you guys have no idea how emotional this one has made me. I really do hope that at some point Emma comes in and sees this. I hope that this is everything you wanted. I freaking miss you! On another note, Welcome to another day of May Madness. I hope you guys enjoy! 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Laughter filled the air as Hope and Ava played in Hope’s room. The sound could easily be heard anywhere throughout the compound. The two cousins playing while using up the last burst of energy they had in their systems before bed. For the first time in centuries, there was a peace that surrounded the Mikaelsons that allowed the girls to be carefree. 

There was enough peace that the Mikaelson siblings didn’t have to worry about looking over their shoulders for any enemies that may be lurking in the shadows. With the two young girls, the Mikalesons believed that even more danger would be on their doorstep. But that hadn’t been the case. They were safe. They wouldn’t be hurt by the Mikaelsons’ past and that was all thanks to Emma. Without her, there wouldn’t have been the peace they were living in. 

Klaus leaned against the door frame as he watched Hope run after Ava with a pillow. Ava’s laughter had been followed with a shriek as the pillow in Hope’s hand had come into contact with her. Ava swung the one she had in her hand, hoping to get Hope away for only a moment before she attacked back. 

The sight itself had brought a smile to Klaus’ lips as he watched them. The bond between the two cousins had reminded him greatly of Emma and Hayley. The two girls are inseparable just as their mothers were after their own reunion. Hayley had believed she didn’t have any family left. And when she found her fraternal twin after coming to New Orleans, there was no breaking them apart. 

Emma had fit easily into the family. It didn’t matter how complicated things may have become, Emma was there for her found family. She would never leave her sister in a fight and she’d make damn sure that her own daughter and niece were safe. And when it came to making a sacrifice for the girls’ safety. Emma was ready and willing to pay the price. 

Just promise me one thing. Emma’s voice played in Klaus’ head as he watched the girls. That if anything ever happens to me, you’ll take care of her. 

Klaus could remember telling her that he should never have to make that promise. That Emma would always be around to watch as her own daughter grew. Emma had made him promise anyways. She had even gotten Hayley to promise as well. Emma needed to be sure that her daughter was taken care of. 

“Alright girls,” Hayley’s voice cut through Klaus’s memories, pulling him back to the present. “Time for bed.” Hope and Ava whined in unison the moment the words left Hayley’s lips. 

“Five more minutes, Aunt Hayley?” Ava asked as she watched her Aunt look over at Klaus for a moment. 

“Hayley is right.”  Klaus said agreeing with her. “You both have big days tomorrow. It’d be a shame if the both of you were exhausted before the fun even began.”

For weeks the girls had been asking about taking a trip to the state fair when it came. While Klaus and even Hayley were skeptical about taking the girls there, they had been assured several times that things would be okay. That things wouldn’t go wrong just because the girls wanted to have some fun. 

It was Freya that had convinced her younger brother that they should go. That they should have fun without worrying about anything. To let the girls live as normal of a life as they could from time to time. Ava may have only been a year older than Hope, but the girls were needing interactions with the outside world. Away from the teachings of spells, or self defense classes. 

Klaus’s words had made the girls toss the pillows back onto Hope’s bed before turning to each other and saying goodnight. Ava ran past Klaus and Hayley as she went into the room across the hall. It caused Klaus to chuckle as he pushed himself off the doorframe. 

“I got Ava.” He said as he turned and walked towards the door. 

A small smile pulled at Hayley’s lips as he watched Klaus do so. For as many times Hayley had warned Emma about Klaus, they found a way to be together. After the fights, after the accusations, there was something that Emma had seen in Klaus. The same thing Klaus had seen within her. They were willing to do whatever it took to keep their family safe.  To do whatever it took to keep each other safe. 

Klaus had stepped up as the father figure to Ava after Emma sacrificed herself. While Hope was still his daughter and he’d do anything for her, Ava was in a sense, now his as well. For the past year, he worried for her. Stayed up with her when the nightmares would scare her. When she’d break down crying simply because she had missed her mom. Klaus was there for her. He may have not been her biological father, but with how much he had grown to care for and love Emma and Ava, Ava had become like a daughter to him. 

Klaus watched as Ava climbed into bed, the moment he walked into the room. It wasn’t long before a smile tugged at his lips as she burrowed into her bed. To see so much of Emma within the young girl had caused a tinge of pain within his chest. Ava smiled at Klaus as she pulled the blanket over herself and nodded her head, signaling she was ready for her favorite story. 

It was during those nights that Ava had woken up from nightmares that Klaus would tell her the tale of her Mother. It was in a way that showed how much he had loved and adored her while proving she was the hero that saved them all. It had become Ava’s favorite story. One that needed to be told each night in order to keep the nightmares at bay. 

He walked over towards the bed and sat down at the edge. His hand coming to rest on her feet, making her giggle before he moved them. “You have to promise right after, you’ll go to bed.”

“I promise.” Ava brought her small hand up and made an x over her heart. “Cross my heart.”

Klaus chuckled as he shook his head slightly. “In a kingdom in a far away land, there lived a Queen. One that was loved by not only her subjects, but the family she had created. The bond between them ensured they were kept safe from any enemy that may have threatened them. The Queen was not immortal. For even the genes she carried within her blood may have made her stronger, but even the strongest warriors have their weaknesses.”

He watched as Ava’s lips pulled into a smile. “For this Queen’s weakness was her beautiful daughter. The Queen would slay those who dared entered their kingdom in hopes of taking or harming the Princess. She’d return from battle with the blood of her enemies on her body, showing that she would do anything in her power to save her child. 

“Even her family would face the invaders to help the Queen. So long as the Queen was there, the family would be invincible.” Klaus had lost count of the many times Emma had helped save them. The countless times she had been there to help protect them or to take down an enemy without any hesitation as to what his past held. “It wasn’t long before a new threat arose in the Kingdom. A dark creature entered the Kingdom, taking her loved ones one by one, threatening to take their lives. 

“One night, while the Princess slept, the Queen went and made a deal with a very powerful witch.” As Klaus said the words he could easily see in his mind how Emma had gotten up in the middle of the night to meet with Freya. Klaus remembered watching as she walked into Freya’s room before a spell kept him from hearing the words they spoke, or even viewing into the room from the balcony. “The deal would ensure the Princess would be safe, along with the rest of her family. But the King that had courted her, tried to stop her from making the deal.”

“You are all in danger!” Emma had yelled as she stood in front of Klaus. “I can’t just sit by and watch as you all are targeted. We almost lost your brother. What other close calls are we going to have to make before you let me help?”

“What about Ava?” He asked, trying to keep himself calm. The way they had been screaming at each other wasn’t getting them anywhere. 

Emma shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “This is for her as much as it is for you and your siblings. For my sister. For our girls to be able to live without a darkness looming over them. You have to let me do this. I’ll be able to come back from this.”

“No.” Klaus said as he shook his head before moving to place his hands on the sides of her face. “A spell like this, even I know there is no coming back from it. It will break Ava.”

“You promised to take care of her.” She said as she placed her hands on top of his as they rested against her face. “Just don’t let her forget about me. Talk to her about me, about us. Because I know that is the only thing that will make this easier for her.”

He took in her words before he pulled his hands away from her. Realization hitting him. This just wasn’t her saying she was going to try and do this. This was Emma saying she had already done so. This was her saying her goodbyes. He ran his hand along his face before he turned his head away from her. 

“When?” He asked a moment later as he turned to look back at her. It was as he looked into her beautiful brown eyes, that he loved so much, that he found the answer he needed.

“But he had been too late.” Klaus continued. He watched as Ava’s eyes began to close. He knew she would be asleep towards the end of the story. “No matter how much the Queen had loved the King, she knew what needed to be done. The very night the dark creature came to attack, the Queen’s family had begun to fall. Slowly each of them had been hurt by the creature. The Queen knew she’d be the next to be hurt. And once she was, the spell she had the powerful witch cast, allowed her body to absorb the dark creature.”

Ava rolled on to her side, her hands coming up under her head, her eyes closed. “Mommy saved us.” 

The words were soft. To any human, they would have barely been able to hear them. But for a hybrid, they had been loud in his ears. A sad smile pulled at his lips as he watched her eyes close. “That she did.” He said before continuing the story. “The Kingdom mourned the loss of their Queen. But there was one thing the King had promised the Princess. She’d always be safe. She’d always be taken care of. And she’d be told of her mothers heroics. The Queen would never be forgotten. It was her wish for stories to be passed on about her just as the stories of legends had.”

Klaus slowly stood from his spot before he watched Ava for a moment. She was sound asleep by the time he had finished. A smile pulled at his lips as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Goodnight little one.”

“You were always so great at telling her stories.” 

Klaus froze at the voice. He thought for a moment that there was some kind of trick that someone dared to do on him. Because after a year, he never thought he’d hear that voice again. His memory didn’t even do it justice. 

His heart sped up for a brief moment as he slowly turned towards the door. He hoped that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Or anyone else for that matter. But as soon as his eyes landed towards the doorway, his jaw dropped slightly. 

She was there. She was standing there in the doorway with a smile on her face as she watched his reaction. Klaus could see the way her eyes slowly filled with tears as he began closing the space between them.  Without a second thought, he walked quickly over to her and pulled her into his arms. 

Having her press against him had told him that this wasn’t a dream. That this wasn’t someone attempting to hurt him and the little girl that slept a few feet away. Emma was home and Klaus had every intention of making sure she never left his sight again.

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[ricksroaches]

Jungkook - Dysphoria ch. 1

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jungkook, a burnt out gifted student, comes home from summer camp not ready to start his sophomore year of highschool, but his friends are there to help him feel better. Although not in the best of ways.

notes: This is a Euphoria-ish au but mostly it's just heavily inspired by the show (I use a few quotes), and each chapter is based on a character. There's a few parts where I cue a song title that's because I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading but I deleted it a while ago so :( if you feel like it listen to the ones I did write down. I'm apologizing now bc my writing can be a bit choppy/rushed its just cuz i have a more drabble-like style and don't know how to write between big scenes. THIS IS A DARK FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Hope you enjoy and sorry for this big ass paragraph.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass-load of angst, mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar, OCD, and probably more), drugs (all of them. just all of them), underage drinking, cursing, mentions of self-harm

Next chapter

[Slideshow - Labrinth]

When Jungkook was 5, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to fly into the sky and zip around space exploring things never before seen. His little mind was so strong, wanting to learn anything and everything. When he first learned how to read, he would read every sign he passed in the car and play games with the letters he’d find. It wasn’t long before he was placed in advanced classes with kids he'd never seen before and for the first time in his academic career, he was challenged.

When Jungkook was 10, he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to wear a white coat and glasses and race around a hospital busy saving lives everyday. He wanted people to look to him for advice and treat him with respect. He wanted to feel needed.

When Jungkook was 14, he wanted to be a paramedic. He didn’t think he’d be smart enough to become a doctor so an EMT would have to do. His classes had begun to pile up in work to the point where he didn’t have the time to think about anything but school. He ate, slept, and breathed homework, projects, and term papers.

When Jungkook was 16, all he wanted to do was graduate. He no longer had any desire to pursue his childhood dreams. When he was asked what he wanted to do when he was older, his mind was a void. He couldn’t see any future for himself past high school. He went day to day not bothering to care about what might happen the next day. He coasted through all of his classes and dropped out of the advanced programs that his parents put him in.

His potential was like a flame. It was small at first, but still had loads of potential, so more kindling was thrown on top. The flame received it well, quickly spreading over the new material. But they kept stacking kindling. Stacking and stacking and stacking putting more and more pressure until finally….the flame died. All because he liked to read.

[Forever - Labrinth]

The clouds inched across the sky and rows of crops and fencing whipped by the car window. A stark contrast between the two. Jungkook rested his head against the glass and watched as the car began to pass more and more houses. The familiar area told him he was almost home. He should’ve been glad, elated even. He would finally get to see his friends again, but after three weeks of summer school to catch up on the class he skipped last year he’d lost the ability to smile or show any form of positivity. To say he felt like a zombie would be an insulting understatement.

The car pulled into the ever so familiar driveway and the rest of his family piled out of the car. He didn’t move. He heaved a long, anguished sigh before snatching his duffel bag from the other seat and throwing open the door.

He was out the front door again before his mom could even ask him where he was going. Speeding his bike down the empty road that he’d ridden countless times before. He could make this route with his eyes closed. The house in question came into view and Jungkook pedaled harder to close the distance. He swung one leg to the opposite pedal and straddled it until he swerved to a stop in the driveway. The house was old, hadn’t been lived in for years, wasn’t on the market, yet wasn’t scheduled to be torn down. It was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to tear apart and put back together. Without knocking, he stepped inside and was hit with the welcoming scent of booze, pizza, and weed with notes of cigarettes and coffee. Music blasting from a distant room in the house led him to the living room where he counted one, two, three, four, five people sprawled about the room. Upon noticing him standing in the doorway, they jumped up and raced to pull him into the room.

“Kook! How you been man? How’d surviving summer school go?” Taehyung was Jungkook’s best friend and unsolicited wingman. He was always trying to set him up with girls so he could get his v card punched. Taehyung was ever the ladies man. Never had trouble finding a date or a hookup. No one could blame him though. If they had that flawless, arrogant face they’d use it too. Despite his fuckboy nature, he was the best friend Jungkook ever had. They’d gone to the same school since they were 7 and Taehyung’s untamable charisma sniffed out Jungkook’s shyness rather quickly. They were inseparable and the rest is history.

“Fine I guess.”

“Kookie, come sit down! I’ve been saving your spot on the couch for you!” Jimin pulled Jungkook to the left corner of the C shaped couch. Jimin was like Taehyung in the sense that he also had no issues with finding partners. He wasn’t near as promiscuous as Taehyung, but he made up for it with his bisexuality. He had an entire other gender to choose from. Jimin was probably the nicest of the group. He always gave the best hugs and was their personal therapist. His aura seemed to coax you into opening up to him even if you hadn’t originally planned on it. He had a way of saying all the right words to make you feel better, even if it was just for a moment. On the other side of him, he was the biggest party animal the group had ever seen. Anywhere else, he was the purest angel that everyone believed could do no wrong. But at a party? Park Jimin was a demon. Seductively dancing in a stylish jacket, pants low enough to show his v-line, sweaty hair flipped back pounding shot after shot until he was the last man standing. That guy could party from sun down to sun up like it was a baby shower.

“Did you at least learn anything you missed last year?” Namjoon. Ever the parent. He was surprisingly humble given his father’s status and money. He easily had the best grades among the friends. School always came easy to him, no matter what it was. However, if you saw him outside of school, you’d never be able to guess he was one of the school’s top students. He carried an energy with him that dared anyone to mess with him or his friends. Although you didn’t see it often, he could make himself scary if he wanted to. All in all, he’s just a gentle giant that made sure everyone turned in their work.

“Absolutely nothing. I don’t know why they keep wasting their time on me.” Jungkook sighed. Hoseok threw a pillow from across the couch, smacking him in the face.

“Yah! Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Hoseok was the human charger. It didn’t matter if someone’s mama died if Hoseok was in the room there would be shenanigans. He was always the one to make some crazy dare that would end up getting them in trouble but they wouldn’t be mad because it was totally worth it. He also had great music taste and almost always was on aux. Hoseok’s vice was coke. Often the driving force behind his hyper nature, it started out as just a thing he did at parties, but slowly creeped into his everyday habits. It hadn’t become a problem yet, he vowed that as soon as he started getting nosebleeds he’d stop, although Jungkook was wary of how difficult that was going to be.

“Where’s Y/N and Yoongi?” Jungkook asked after noticing their usual spots empty.

“They left to get food. They should be coming back soon.” Jin assured him, giving him a comical slap on the thigh. Jin was the eldest, but rarely acted like it. Whenever he wasn’t making stupid dad jokes or eating he spent his time at the classical theater where he worked and sometimes acted. He planned on pursuing acting given his “world wide handsome face.” “It just has to be seen! People around the world need to swoon at my beauty” as he would put it.

No one heard the front door open and shut or noticed Y/N and Yoongi standing in the doorway of the living room.

“Food’s here.” Yoongi finally croaked. Hoseok and Jin yelped and sprung up.

“JESUS! Ever heard of announcing yourselves?! I swear you guys are the exact same person!” Y/N just gave a shrug and plopped onto the large bean bag that she’d claimed.

“Hey, Kooker.” She dragged out.

“Hi Y/N..” His unusual bland reply didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she brushed it off.

“You ready to get shit faced?” A playful grin plastered her otherwise tranquil face. A small smile poked at Jungkooks pursed lips. There was something about her character that always put him in a better mood. She was the one who invited him and Tae into the friend group in the first place, and because of that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

Yoongi tossed him a beer can and his car keys. “Start us off Jungkook.” Yoongi was by far the most terrifying one. It took some time to get to know his true person but there were still times when he still scared the shit out of him. Jungkook remembered when he first met Yoongi. He looked like he’d served time with the seasoned look in his eye that said he’d seen some shit in his day. He hadn’t spoken the entire time the group was talking and Jungkook was beginning to worry that he didn’t like him. It wasn’t til he finally spoke that Jungkook could release the breath he was holding. For someone so stoic and cold looking, he never expected him to have such a low, soft voice. He realized, Yoongi wasn’t scary, he was just quiet like him.

Jungkook took the keys and poked a hole in the bottom of the can. He pressed his lips to it and pulled the tab, sending the amber liquor shooting down his throat. He finished it with ease and crushed the can in his palm while the room cheered and chanted.

The loud music, laughing, and drugs drowned out everything in the outside world. It felt like the world ended and they were the last people left on Earth. Nothing mattered but what was right in front of them. The hours flew by until it came time for everyone to crash. Most of them were still raging drunk or high which only made them fall asleep faster. Jungkook didn’t drink much and he barely smoked. He just couldn’t get in the right headspace to enjoy any of it. So there he was, laying awake among a pile of snoring boys at some ungodly hour of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to read the text in his notifications.

[We All Knew - Labrinth]

Y/N💜: come to my office

He shimmied out from under Taehyung and Jimin and tiptoed out of the room. He followed the smell of weed through the house because where there was weed, there was Y/N. He stepped into the backyard and found her leaning against the wall, blunt between her fingers. The tip of the dark stick swelled into a bright orange when she took a drag. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she held it out for him. He hesitated.

“You're upset. Take it.” Which was a dead-on observation for Y/N, who’s not normally revolving in the same direction as planet Earth. He hesitantly took a puff from it before handing it back. She spread her arms lazily and looked at him with a beckoning stare. He sighed and walked right into her arms that wrapped around his back. She was only older than him by a year, but her old soul and almost motherly demeanor made him look up to her like she was his idol. Sometimes, he forgot he was a whole head taller than her. “Welcome home, Kookie.”

Hers was the only welcome he got that day that brought a genuine smile to his face. She had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted even if she was in a bad mood. She broke the embrace and without a word headed to the old couch by the empty swimming pool. He eventually followed her and flopped down next to her. Another gush of smoke entered the chilly air and it was handed back to him. Feeling better, he took a healthy drag and sighed out the smoke as he sunk further into the couch.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Was what obvious?”

“Me being upset.”

“Not really.” She flicked the ash off the tip of the brown stick, her gaze not breaking from its spacey stare.

“Then how’d you know?”

“Pain recognizes pain.” Y/N wasn’t one for her genius epiphanies, given that nine times out of ten on any given day she was stoned out of her mind. She wasn’t dumb, god no. He wouldn’t doubt that she was smarter than him, but she rarely exercised her ability. As great of a gift that her mind was, it was an even worse curse. An inescapable tomb of her worst fears, thoughts, and intentions, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So naturally, she tried anything and everything to silence her mind; alcohol, weed, acid, coke, molly, you name it, she’s done it.

Jungkook wasn’t angry or disappointed by the lengths she went. He knew she was just trying to feel better, and to him, that’s all that mattered. He’d take high Y/N over no Y/N at all.

“Y/N?”

“Yep.” There was a silence while he worked up the nerve to speak.

“How…uh….how long have you felt…the way you feel?” She chuckled and let her head fall back against the couch.

“Well I smoked a blunt with Yoongi in the car this morning and then-”

“No, I mean like…w-without drugs.” Her lazy smile didn’t change, but her eyes unfocused and she grew quiet as if lost in a flashback.

“How long do you think I’ve felt this way?” He didn’t anticipate this question.

“Uh…I don’t know…you hide it really well.”

“I couldn’t tell you when it started. I don’t remember much before 7. I’m told I was a happy kid, but it didn’t feel like it at all. All my life I’ve looked around and seen that everyone was so much happier than me, and I’d ask myself, ‘Why can’t I feel like that?’ It wasn’t until I was older that I learned…I was born to suffer. That’s just my place in the world.”

“When did you finally tell anyone?”

“I didn’t. My parents found my razors.” Jungkook always thought he saw scars on her arms and legs, but her milky skin made it hard to tell. It hurt his heart to know that it was true, and that every one of those once caused her pain. The image of her forearms and thighs slick with her blood brewed tears in his eyes.

“They determined they didn’t have the knowledge to help me, so they asked me to take a tour of this mental hospital and think about their suggestion….” She paused to keep her voice from cracking. “I didn’t make it home that day. Never really forgave them after that.”

There was a long silence after that. Jungkook didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, he knew she hated condolences. “What made you start using drugs?” She took a drag of the blunt and thought about it.

“I was 13.” Really? “I found my brothers stash of weed in one of his shoes. I already knew what weed was and what it was used for, so I took about a gram and a rolling paper and taught myself how to roll a joint on my bathroom floor. I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds but when that joint hit, I thought…” She tilted her head to peak at him with an epiphanic smile, “This is it…This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life. I thought I was sure to get caught and sent to juvie, but I wasn’t. The world went on, and I found a way to live. Now could my lifestyle kill me? Will it kill me? Yeah probably I don’t know, but at least I could’ve had a few years where I wasn’t begging the universe to put me out of my misery.” She paused to take another hit. “People often ask me, ‘Y/N why don’t you try therapy? Drugs aren’t the answer.’ Yeah well, drugs work. Therapy’s a guessing game; you never know if it’s gonna actually help or not and end up wasting your time and money. But when I take that hit, that line, that tab, the world starts to slow…and everything goes quiet…and I feel safe. In my own head. And I can see the world in color again.”

Jungkook watched her blissful face while she was lost in thought. She must’ve been pretty high because this is the most personal she’d ever gotten with him or possibly anyone that wasn’t Yoongi. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“W-what if I don’t feel what everyone else feels either..?” He pinched the skin between his fingers to keep his tears at bay, a nervous habit he’d picked up from her. She reached over and took his hand in hers, the webbing between her fingers had white and pink stripes from years of fingernails digging into the flesh.

“Jungkook,” she didn’t use his nickname, “I know how hard it was for you to say that. I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me, because if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. You can talk to me whenever, wherever. Even when you think it’s a bad time it’s not, because nothing in that moment is more important to me than you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, so please, even if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can at least keep you company.”

For the rest of the night, Jungkook told her everything. About the pressure, the stress, the desire to collapse and let the world go on without him, his inability to see a future where he was fulfilled. The words often caught in his throat, having never said them out loud before. Y/N didn’t say much, she just wrapped them in a blanket and stroked his hair while she just let him talk. Sometimes, he’d have to stop to cry and she’d hold him a little tighter, wipe his tears away with her thumbs, and wait til he was ready again.

Eventually, he had nothing else to say, his tears dried, and his body stilled.

Babies didn’t sleep that good.

Y/N nodded off a little later but was woken up by a raccoon tipping a trash can. She rested her cheek on his head and tried to go back to sleep, but it never came. She just continued to rest her eyes while playing with Jungkook’s hair and tracing lines along his features.

She didn’t know how long she laid there but soon the birds began their routine morning songs and she was sure she wouldn’t get back to sleep now. The faint tap of shoes on the concrete perked her ears, but she kept her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped behind the couch where she sat. It was quiet before the person chuckled quietly. A warm hand smoothed back the hair in her face and a little kiss was planted on her forehead. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Yoongi, I’m awake you creep.” She cracked her eyes open to see her boyfriend laid over the back of the couch hovering above her, his dark hair tickling her nose. He smirked.

“Well in that case,” he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up before capturing her lips in a playful kiss. When they parted, he glanced down at Jungkooks still sleeping figure. “You guys stay out here all night?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at him and smoothed his hair back, “he just had a few things to get off his chest.” Yoongi almost asked what it was about but her face gave him an idea.

“It’s cold, you want me to take him inside?”

“It won’t wake him up will it?”

“If he’s as out as as he looks, he won’t.” She nodded and Yoongi circled around and slipped his hands under the sleeping boy’s body. Much to Y/N’s pleasant surprise, he lifted him bridal style with ease and she followed him into the house where he placed him next to the other slumbering boys.

When he straightened back up he saw her in the sliding glass door, gazing at the now dusty blue sky. She could feel his body heat on her back against the nippy outside air.

“I always loved the time just before dawn.”

“Why is that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers.

“It’s so calm and peaceful. And incredibly quiet besides the birds. It’s the only time I feel truly left alone.”

“You want me to show you my favorite time of day?” She turned to him with a curious look. “Follow me.” Not long after, the two were perched on the flat portion of the roof with Yoongi’s bong sitting between them. His angular fingers effortlessly packed the bowl and held it out to her. “All yours.” She took it with a smile.

“What a gentleman~”

Soon, the sky went from a pale blue to pastel shades of orange and pink. He looked over to see her fiddling with a thread on his hoodie she was wearing. “This,” he took her jaw and guided her eyes up for her to see the sunrise, “is my favorite time of day.”

“Why?”

“It gives me hope. Kinda like you.” He was glad she didn’t say anything. She was lost in the color palette of the scene before her, the weed making everything so much more vibrant and striking. He could see the sky reflected in her eyes, making the view ten times better. More time went by and she rested her head on his broad shoulder while they watched the rest of the sunrise.

Back on the ground, Yoongi cleared the bowl and poured out the bong water before setting it on a table by the couch. Y/N was on her back in the center of the empty pool, slowly tearing a leaf above her face and analyzing how it separated cell by cell. He stood on the edge above and watched her do this another four times much to his amusement. “You wanna get breakfast?”

She was out of the pool and in his face before he could finish his sentence. “Like you have to ask.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his car. “Hey, Yoongi.”

He turned back.

“Carry me to the car like Jungkook.” He broke into a smirk and walked back to her.

“Yes ma’am.” She let out a yelp when he scooped her off her feet and marched the two of them to his car waiting on the street.

Cover photo: @BIGHITTED on Twitter

[spencer-reids-adventures]

it's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing - chapter 4

Warnings: Depression, self harm, suicidal ideation, disordered eating, mentions of trauma

Summary: Weeks go by and he feels himself deteriorate, feels the thread he’s hanging onto begin to split and fray, and he starts to wonder how this is going to end for him. At what point enough will be enough.

or,

The one where Spencer goes to the psych ward.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.2k

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 - The Enemy Within Chapter 2 - Errand of Mercy Chapter 3 - Dagger of the Mind Chapter 4 - Where No Man Has Gone Before Chapter 5 - The Galileo Seven Chapter 6 - This Side of Paradise Chapter 7 - The Man Trap Chapter 8 - And the Children Shall Lead Chapter 9 - Mirror, Mirror Chapter 10 - A Private Little War Chapter 11 - Wink of an Eye Chapter 12 - That Which Survives Chapter 13 - The Empath Chapter 14 - Let That Be Your Last Battlefield

Aaron watches as Spencer spends the next hour in a daze. He eats the meal placed in front of him and then goes to his room while Aaron makes his phone calls. When Aaron comes up afterwards, he finds Spencer laying on the bed, still in his pajamas even though it’s going on 4pm. Aaron sits down next to him.

“We’ll have to go through the emergency room,” he says calmly, watching for any sort of reaction, but Spencer doesn’t move. “I did a little research and chose the hospital that seems to have the best psychiatric inpatient program. Do you have any opinion on the matter?”

Spencer doesn’t look at Aaron, but he does respond this time.

“There are some things I don’t research.”

“Do you trust my judgement?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you want to shower or get dressed before we go?” Aaron asks.

Spencer shakes his head.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He leads Spencer to the car and buckles him into the passenger seat, much like the night before. Spencer stares out the window as Aaron drives. Halfway there, he starts to talk.

“I remember my dad taking my mom to the hospital,” he says. “When I was a kid, before he left. She didn’t want to stay on her meds, she didn’t like the way they made her feel, so she stopped taking them. He got so mad at her when he found out. He threatened her with hospitalization, like it was a punishment. I think that’s what made it so hard for me to institutionalize her later. She thought I was punishing her. It was never a punishment, though, it was never her fault…”

“You know this isn’t a punishment, right?” Aaron asks. “And you know I’m not mad at you, nobody is.”

“I know,” Spencer says quietly. “Hotch, I-- I know I’m an adult and I’m going to have to make decisions and everything, but…” His voice becomes small. Sheepish. “Do you think you could, um. Stay with me? If they let you?”

“Oh, Spencer, I’m not just going to drop you off and leave you to do this by yourself,” Aaron promises. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”

“Thank you,” Spencer whispers, and goes back to staring out the window, and before long Aaron is parking the car and leading Spencer towards the building.

Before they even make it out of the parking structure, Spencer stops dead in his tracks.

“I lied to you, Hotch,” he says frantically. “I’m fine, really. I’m safe, and I’ll be okay. I was just exaggerating. Overreacting. We really don’t need to be here.”

“Spencer…”

“No, I’m serious. I was just being dramatic. I’m sorry. I really am fine, you can even just drop me off at home. I can grab my stuff another time. I’m sorry I wasted your time and made you come all the way out here…”

“Spencer,” Aaron repeats, a little more forcefully. “I need you to take a breath. You’re panicking. And that’s okay. But we both know that this is where you need to be right now.”

“No, I really don’t,” Spencer says. “Please, Hotch…”

“I’m going to hug you,” Aaron says, and then takes Spencer in his arms before he can say anything, squeezing him tight, hoping the pressure will help calm him. “It’s okay to be scared,” he murmurs. “You don’t know what to expect, and you aren’t feeling well. I don’t expect you to be completely okay with this. But this is what you need, and I know that you know I’m right. Don’t you?”

Aaron feels Spencer’s tears soaking into the fabric on his shoulder before he finally answers.

“Yes,” he whispers, and that’s enough. Aaron holds him gently by the elbow and escorts him inside.

“How can I help you?” the woman at the window asks as they approach. Spencer wipes the last of the tears from his eyes and glances around at the other people in the waiting room. He looks to Aaron.

“My friend isn’t feeling like he can keep himself safe,” Aaron says matter-of-factly.

“Are you suicidal, honey?” the woman asks kindly, lowering her voice enough that Spencer visibly relaxes.

“Y-yes,” he says shakily, staring down at the counter.

“Okay. I just need your name and date of birth right now, and then triage will call you back in a few minutes.”

Spencer looks at Aaron again.

“His name is Spencer Reid, R-E-I-D,” Aaron says. “Birth date 10/28/81.”

“Thank you!” the woman says. “Go ahead and have a seat.”

Spencer follows Aaron to an empty bank of chairs and they sit down. Aaron notices Spencer’s hands are shaking,

“You’re okay,” he says gently. “It’s okay.”

“Nothing is okay,” Spencer says. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want this to be happening.”

“I know,” Aaron says. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Spencer Reid?” They look up to see a nurse in scrubs with a clipboard standing at a doorway.

Aaron stands up first, then helps Spencer, and they walk over together.

“This is Spencer,” Aaron says. “I’m a friend. Is it okay if I go back with him?”

“As long as it’s okay with him,” the nurse says, looking over to Spencer.

“I want him to stay,” Spencer confirms.

Aaron stays nearby while the nurse takes Spencer’s vitals and medical history, and then someone else takes him through a long questionnaire about his past and current mental health. Spencer’s demeanor changes radically throughout - he refuses to look at Aaron when he answers questions about his childhood and family history, but reaches for him when asked about trauma or drug use, taking his hand and squeezing it like a lifeline. When it comes to his current symptoms, he looks like he wants Aaron to answer for him, but Aaron just shakes his head minutely and squeezes Spencer’s hand again in encouragement. Eventually, they get through everything.

Next they’re escorted to a room that’s empty except for a bed, and another nurse hands Spencer a set of scrubs and some blankets.

“I need to take all of your things,” he says, gesturing towards Spencer’s messenger bag and clothes. “I can lock them somewhere safe, or your friend can hold onto them.”

“I’ll take them,” Aaron says.

The nurse gives them privacy and Aaron turns his back while Spencer changes. The scrub pants are too short and the two gowns he’s given for modesty billow around him. When the nurse returns, he has a bag for Spencer’s clothes, and Aaron holds onto that along with the messenger bag. Spencer’s arms are bare in the gown, and Aaron can see bruises dotting them, but he doesn’t ask what they’re from.

“Someone is going to come take your blood,” the nurse tells Spencer. “A doctor will come talk to you, as well as a social worker and a therapist. And they’ll let you know whether you’ll be admitted, and what the next steps are from there.”

“Thank you,” Spencer whispers.

---

Spencer appreciates knowing what to expect - he doesn’t appreciate that each person he’s meant to see takes an average of 3.7 hours to arrive. There’s nothing to do in the empty room, so he tries to sleep as much as possible. When he’s awake, Hotch talks to him about everything and nothing. Sometimes he asks questions that Spencer suspects are deliberately intended to provoke a rant or ramble from him, but he just doesn’t have the energy. He appreciates it, nonetheless.

Between Spencer’s tiny veins and dehydration, it takes three different phlebotomists to manage to get his blood drawn, finally taking it from his hand, which is more painful than he’d like to admit. That fiasco also gets him an IV with a saline drip, plus an unappetizing turkey sandwich that sits untouched on the edge of the bed.

The doctor asks him questions that are clearly standard but feel cruel and degrading: how he’s feeling, is he in pain, does he want to hurt himself, does he have a plan to kill himself. Spencer half-mumbles his answers, feeling like this is a test of some sort, trying to remember how he answered last time, on the questionnaire. As though there is a wrong answer. He has the wrong answer, that’s how he ended up here in the first place.

No medication is added to Spencer’s IV, but the doctor tells him if he won’t eat the sandwich, he’ll be brought a meal replacement shake. Spencer just shrugs. When it comes, he sips it, making a face at the chalky flavor and texture, and Hotch makes a game of it.

“I’m going to name titles of Star Trek episodes,” he says. “Original Series only. Every time I get one wrong, you have to drink.”

“You’re turning my refeeding into a drinking game?” Spencer asks incredulously, and Hotch just smiles and nods.

The drink is gone within 10 minutes, and Spencer has never been so glad to have Hotch around.

The social worker mostly asks questions about Spencer’s home and work life, and does a terrible job of hiding her horror when Spencer and Hotch explain what they do for a living. She’s able to laugh at herself, though, and somehow manages to get Spencer and Hotch laughing with her as they get through all of her questions. Spencer thinks she must be magical, the way she’s managed to put him at ease during one of the worst moments of his life.

When Paul the therapist comes, he asks Hotch to step outside the room, and Spencer reluctantly agrees to let him go. Paul starts with the standard questions, and this time is one too many, and Spencer finally breaks.

“Yes, okay?” he sobs. “Yes, I want to hurt myself. Yes, I want to kill myself. Otherwise I wouldn’t fucking be here right now. I’ve been holding on for months, or maybe years, I don’t even know anymore, but I can’t do this anymore, and I don’t ever talk to anyone about this and now I’ve had to say the same thing to like five different people in the last 24 hours and I just-- please, can you just make it stop?”

He covers his face with his hands, and when he feels something brush against the back of one of them, he flinches hard.

“I’m just handing you a tissue,” Paul says gently, and Spencer takes it and blows his nose without a word.

“Spencer, I’m looking at your chart and I’m seeing child neglect, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, disordered eating, history of trauma, history of drug abuse, autism… Have you ever gotten treatment or therapy for any of these things?”

“I’ve met with the Bureau psychologist as required after particularly traumatic events in the field,” Spencer says shortly.

“You’ve been dealing with a lot of things all by yourself for a long time,” Paul says sympathetically. “You need to know that you are not weak. This is too much for anyone to handle on their own. You need to learn the tools and skills to help you cope. There are all kinds of therapies and techniques and medications that could benefit you. And we can help you with that here. Are you willing to be admitted to our psychiatric unit?”

“Do I have a choice?” Spencer asks.

“There are two ways this can go,” Paul tells him. “You can admit yourself voluntarily, which is the easiest way. That means you can also leave voluntarily, but only after discussing it with your doctor. It’s still a locked unit, so you can’t come and go as you please.”

“And if I don’t admit myself voluntarily, you’ll place me on a 72 hour hold and get a court order saying I’m a danger to myself, and I’ll be stuck there anyway but with fewer rights and a paper trail.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Paul says with a small smile.

“I’ll go voluntarily,” Spencer sighs. “Can Hotch--”

“He can accompany you as far as the door to the unit,” Paul says. “There’s a wheelchair for you outside that door-- hospital protocol,” he explains when he sees Spencer’s face, “and your friend can walk over there with us. I’ll also make sure to give him the information about phone hours and visiting hours. It’s pretty late right now, but he can come visit you tomorrow and bring you some of your things.”

“Okay,” Spencer says.

Hotch comes back in and sits with Spencer while he signs some paperwork. Then Spencer begrudgingly gets into the wheelchair and the three of them make their way across the hospital, all the way to the locked door where Hotch and Spencer are forced to say goodbye.

“Call me tomorrow, okay?” Hotch says, and Spencer nods. Hotch leans down and gives him a hug. “I’m very proud of you, Spencer. And I’m going to sleep better tonight knowing that you’re safe.”

“Don’t, um… Don’t tell the team yet, okay?” Spencer asks, cringing a little.

“I won’t say a word until you give me permission,” Hotch promises. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

“Goodnight.”

Hotch walks out one door, and Paul reaches toward the other.

“Ready?” he asks.

“No,” Spencer says. “But let’s go ahead anyway.”

[leviislut]

Levi finding out his fem s/o dealing with mental and domestic abuse with parents and occasional physical and very awkward/scared talking about? If you’re not comfy writing it that’s fine. Stay safe 🖤🖤

!DISCLAIMER!

I'm sorry for my bad English, but I'm Italian and I'm currently studying this language, so this is also a way to improve my vocabulary. if you spot any mistake, feel free to correct me. furthermore THIS IS A SEPARATE POST AND HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PREVIOUS ONES.

thank you for asking!!!! I'm so glad I wrote a story with your idea! hope you like it<3

Thanks for the attention and now let’s move on the story’s details.

𖥔 pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

𖥔 genres: fluff

𖥔 TW: mentioning of mental/domestic/physical abuse, self harm

𖥔 word count: 1.4k

𖥔 summary: while training, you have a little fight with jean and levi notices your weird behavior.

───────────────────────────────

“you fucking slugs better move your asses or I'll make you pay for it!” levi says in a bossy voice that makes a shiver run down your spine. you love him, but he low-key scares you when he acts like this during the training.

“jean what’s the issue with you? can’t you run faster? or you wish a titan eats your fucking head? come on!”

jean scoffs and mumbles something under his breath.

“eren is running slow too, captain. but that doesn’t seem to bother you at all.” says jean, a little pissed off, staring at eren with the corner of his eye.

“come on, jean. even if I'm on my period, I can run faster than you!” you say chuckling.

everybody knows jean has a huge crush on you, so you really enjoy teasing him and making fun of him, especially during training. he turns in your direction and you laugh at his mad face.

“what the fuck is wrong with you shitty slut? is your life’s so useless that you always need to make fun of mine? I'll tell you this, I'm fucking tired of this bullshit, Y/N” he screams in your face, pushing you on the ground, leaving everybody shocked. he never reacted like this at one of your jokes.

you quickly stand up and walk towards him. you slap his face as hard as you can, turning it on one side because of the impact. then you force him to look at you in you eyes.

“don’t ever try to touch me again or I swear I'm gonna pulp your liver with my bare hands and make you eat it.” you say in a hard voice. you grab his shirt and push him away from you. you quickly unhook your harness, throwing it on the ground and walking fast towards the sleeping quarters.

“what’s wrong, brat?” levi tries to stop you and talk to you, but you ignore him and run in your room. as soon as you close the door, you start to cry silently. you stand up and punch everything you find in your way, destroying the wooden table and chair and ripping the sheets of your bed. you sink your face in the pillow and start screaming as loud as you can, collapsing on your bed.

as soon as you feel something touching your skin, you wake up and run out of your bed.

“jesus christ levi! you scared the shit out of me!” you say to him, still half asleep. he sits on your bed and invites you to follow him. you sit near him, maintaining a little distance, as always.

“what was that out there?” he asks you looking at your eyes. you look away, not able to maintain eye contact.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you exactly know what he is talking about.

“Y/N don’t fucking lie to me, please. you know I hate it.”

“I don’t care if you hate it. you don’t need to know everything about me, we’re not fucking married! stop acting as if you care about me and my stuff!”

“oh so you think I just act like I care but I don't. then you're fucking wrong, Y/N. I care about you more than anyone else, don't even say I don't.”

“then why did you let jean treat me like that? you didn't say a thing, you just let him do whatever he wanted. I felt like shit and you didn't even notice that!”

“Y/N what are you talking about? I wanted to kick his ass when he treated you like that, but you said that we shouldn't tell the others about what's between us. as if I gave a shit about what others think. and don't think I didn't punish him, he’s been running laps for hours and he’s still training. and I'm not the one who run away without letting anyone help them. now, please, tell me why did you react like that?”

you lay on the bed in fetal position. you start to cry, but you quickly try to calm yourself down so levi doesn't notice.

“my parents said...”

he gets closer, but you stop him with a movement of your hand.

“and did... sorry levi I can't.”

you stand up and run out of the room. you never told anyone about what your parents use to do to you, not even levi. you still feel so embarrassed that, even if you try to tell anyone, words aren’t able to come out of your mouth. you sit under a tree near the field where cadets use to train, tearing tufts of grass from the ground. you look at the moon, you didn’t notice evening had already arrived. you look at your legs and arms full of goosebumps and you try to warm up your body a little bit.

“if you go out like this, don’t be surprised to wake up with a cold.” levi’s voice increases the goosebumps on your skin. after a couple seconds, you hear his strong arms grabbing you. at first, you flinch, but then you surprisingly let him catch you. once you’re in his arms, you rest your face on his shoulder and hook your legs and arms around his body. now you’re back in your room.

“Y/N, you know you can trust me. talk to me, please. I need to hear you.”

you feel a strange feeling in your body that makes you gain enough courage to ask levi what you thought you’d never ask.

“would you sleep here tonight?” you ask him so softly that he almost doesn't hear you.

“you sure? you don’t have to di this, Y/N. I told you I'll wait long enough to make you feel ready.” he says touching your cheeks.

in response, you grab his hand and you make him sit on the bed.

“I just... just wanna sleep, is that ok?” you ask him awkwardly. he softly chuckles and nods. you lightly smile and reach the furthest corner of the room, as you start to unbutton your shirt.

his face is confused. he’s probably misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry.” you say full of embarrassment. you take off your shirt and your pants and start to get closer to him. as soon as he can clearly see your body, his face becomes shocked. your thighs and arms are covered in scars. you seat besides him and cover your naked belly with your hands.

“did...did you do that to yourself?” he asks with a shocked face. you slightly nod.

“my mom used to tell me I was just an useless bitch who could only sell her body in the underground to gain some money and have a life. I spent my whole life cleaning the house or going around satisfying my parents’ requests. and when I went back to the house, my dad was there, waiting for me with his belt, prepared to beat the shit out of me. and when he finished, he used to tell me that he was just doing what it takes to grow a soldier.” your voice is broken, you know that you’ll not be able to hold back tears for still a long time. levi notices that.

“it’s ok if you cry. I'm not gonna judge you.” his words hit your ears like an order. in fact, as soon as he speaks, you burst into tears. he hugs you from behind and makes you put your head on his chest. the regular sound of his heartbeat calms you.

“the reason why I reacted like that today... it’s because it was like living again the hell the I've been through. and i’m sorry if I rarely let you touch me, but I'm afraid that you could act like my dad. actually, you’re the only man that can touch me. you’re really important to me, levi. you should know that. and i’m sorry if I didn't tell you this before, but I was embarrassed. and scared.”

“why that, darling?”

“because I didn't know what your reaction would be. what if... what if you found me repulsive? what if touching me made you feel sick? what if you couldn’t look me the same way anymore? levi... I can’t live in a world where you find me disgusting.”

“what are you even saying? how could you even think that? Y/N there’s no way in the world I could ever find you disgusting. you’re the only woman in my life, the only person that matters to me. I just want to make you happy.” he whispers.

as soon as you hear his words, you turn around and you gently place your lips on his.

your first kiss ever. with your man. with levi.