#meds would help but how the fuck am i even supposed to do that when every psych isnt taking new clients

[weirdmorefics]

My Birdy Took Flight

A/N- I am aware I really need to write my asks and my Spencer Reid story but I am currently obsessed with Simon Riley okay!

Simon Riley x Sniper Reader

Readers pronouns- She/her

TW- Swearing, falling, injuries, and military inaccuracies but I mean it's COD and they have a zombie game so are going to attack them too? lol

Summary- Who knew the complete off-the-books mission would go off the rails and leave you with the worst rope burns of your life. The injuries however were not the scary part it was having to face Ghost and admit you fell out of the heli.

Word Count- 1991

This mission was completely off the books, asshole Shephard did not care at all that Kate had been taken hostage and would not send reinforcements for help. I've been working with Price and Kate since I was a recruit they are my family. There was no way I was leaving Kate to be killed. The plan was simple enough I stayed in the heli for overwatch while Price, Gaz, and Farah worked their way up the line. Things were going smoothly I've worked with Nik before he is one hell of a pilot. Things however took a turn for the worse an explosive hit the copter and I fucking fell out. I'm sure Nik and Captian thought I died for a moment but I was bloody hanging from the rope. I am lucky my sniper skills are still top-notch when I'm hanging upside down though I would prefer not to test it again. After that hiccup, we recovered Kate and she luckily had no physical injuries.

We returned to base that night and Price insisted I go to the med bay to get checked out. To quote his words, "You look like shit kid, get the hell to med bay before I drag you myself."

The medic rushed to treat me, but something told me that was Price's doing. They wanted to keep me here for observation due to my concussion from the explosion impact. I begged them not to I'd sleep way better in the barracks I hate the sanitary hospital smell, I even prefer the smell of gunpowder. The medic would not take no for an answer I wanted to fight them harder but they said they preferred my anger to Price's wrath. The medic left shortly after and would return sporadically to do random vital checks. At least I knew the concussion wasn't that bad as it didn't beckon me toward the darkness like other times. Though my raw skin kept me from finding any peace I honestly kind of miss the darkness. I spent the night tossing and turning the pain and clinical setting keeping sleep a far distance away from me.

The clock ticking was mocking me as I watched it hit four am. How are hospital settings supposed to help you heal when there is so much beeping and someone always coming into your room? Speaking of which I heard the door creak yet again didn't they just take my vitals ten minutes ago! I can't take this without thinking I launch the flat uncomfortable pillow at what I assumed would be the intern medic yet again only to lock eyes with Ghost looking as shocked as I did.

"That's one hell of a greeting darling," he says in his usual deep voice. My eyes are still wide with shock that I just hit my superior with a pillow but he takes this opportunity to speak again. "Heard you took flight today, Gaz was telling everyone."

I wince at the thought of everyone knowing I failed to hold on during the explosion and try to change the subject to avoid thinking about it, "Aren't you supposed to be on a mission with Soap?"

"Just got back. Johnny and Gaz are out celebrating," he responds.

"They are out celebrating at four am?" I question.

"You know Johnny no one can outdrink the Scott," he says like it's the most obvious thing the world.

"Well, why aren't you out there celebrating with them?"

"My birdy took flight and thought it only decent to check up on her," any other time I would have dwelled on the fact that he said 'my birdy' but he placed his hand on my welted ankle and I could not suppress the groan. His eyes quickly shift to concern and he rips the scratchy hospital blanket off me.

"Ghost!" I shout at him for having the audacity to rip the blanket off me. He has no right to barge in here and act like he's in charge, he may be the boss of me in the field but he is not my doctor and I do not care for showing off my nasty ass wounds to my team members.

He does not acknowledge my shout at him in the slightest instead his full attention is on my rope-burned ankles."What quack treated this," he growled.

"I'm fine," I try to yank my foot out of his grasp but he holds tighter.

"Yeah because the skin falling off your ankle looks spectacular," he says sarcastically.

"Wow you sure know how to treat a girl," I roll my eyes.

"Haven't heard any complaints," he says nonchalantly as if that innuendo wouldn't have Soap applauding.

"Seriously, it's fine. Go celebrate with the team," I assure.

"If you think I am letting you let your ankle get infected you are off your rocker. I am going to need names, sweetheart," he commands.

The nickname glides out of his mouth so easily it's as if he had said it a hundred times. I want to stay as calm and collected as him but I unfortunately stutter, "What names?" God, it's a good thing I'm a sniper and not a spy because I would be dead.

"Of the idiot docs who treated this," he speaks as if it's obvious.

I sigh, "It's not their fault... I didn't tell them. Price only knew about the concussion and I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Ah so you're the idiot," he growls.

"Can you not be mean to me I did just fall out of a heli."

"Shut up you lived," he rolls his eyes, gently places my foot down, and turns to leave.

"Please don't take your anger out on the medics," I beg.

"Oh trust me darling I will be taking my anger out on you," he growls yet again.

I shiver, "Where are you going then?"

"To get some medical supplies for your dumbass. No one way I'm letting a medic treat you when you will just lie to them."

"What makes you think I won't lie to you?" I tease well aware that I am in no place to be teasing.

He chuckles an evil kind still it's one of the best I've heard, "Me and you both know you aren't capable of it."

He exits the room and I am unsure if I want to slap him or rip that mask off and kiss him... I am definitely incapable of either. I may be able to beat Soap, Gaz, and even Price on the mat but no one can best Ghost. I, unfortunately, hear him shouting at medics for a damn first aid kit... so much for him taking out his anger on me.

He returns rather quickly but does not speak as he meticulously places the first aid supplies by my bedside.

He pours some alcohol on my rope burn and I hiss loudly, "shit a little warning would be nice."

"You would have just fought harder. Need to clean the debris out who fuckin knows how old that rope was."

"Aw is Ghosty worried about me," I pout.

"Thought I told you and Johnny to stop calling me that, you want me to make this hurt worse than it already does?"

I roll my eyes at him and in response, he presses the gauze harder than necessary. "You asshole!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I can see his wicked smile through his balaclava.

"Yeah sure," I huff. "You know..." I smile mischievously. "This would go a lot faster if you just kissed it better."

"Oh really," I could hear the grin in his voice. I was expecting him to make some snide comment in return instead he finishes wrapping my ankle and lifts his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose.

I am sure my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. His grin widens it could only be compared to the Cheshire cat's smile. He gently lifts my ankle to his lips but does not stop there. He places delicate kisses all the way up to my thigh. I think I have officially stopped breathing. Then my heart decides to do the most embarrassing thing ever. It speeds up so atrociously fast that the monitors start beeping incredibly loud. That's it I have officially died there is no coming back my face is melting off from how flushed I am.

Ghost sits back and laughs and I mean properly laughs, I have never seen him like this. "This is a good look on you birdy all red and flustered, all for me too." He pulls his mask back down but I can still see the smile in his eyes.

"Shut up! I am a highly trained sought-after sniper, I don't get flustered!" I feel like that would have sounded better if I didn't stutter each word.

Ghost glances at my heart rate monitor, "Your heart says otherwise."

A medic comes in as the dumb machine won't stop beating, "Are you alright? You're looking quite flushed and your blood pressure is higher than it was when you first came in."

I swear I could see the smugness radiating off Ghost. God I want to strangle him.

"She's fine thanks to me," his eyes squint at me and I know he has a huge grin under that balaclava. He then turns to the medic, "Don't you know the 141 are notorious liars and the worst patients! Next time call me down here as soon as she is being treated."

The poor medic flinches at Ghost's rough voice and can barely whisper, "Yes, sir"

I mouth, 'I'm so sorry," to the medic he looks appreciative.

The medic flees as soon as my blood pressure normalizes. Ghost roughly throws his body onto the uncomfortable hospital chair and groans.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be going back to the barracks," I glance as he makes himself comfortable well as comfortable as one can be in a torn hospital chair.

"In a rush to get rid of me birdy?"

"Is that name going to become a thing," I roll my eyes.

"Only for me, if anyone else has the nerve to call you that I'll gut them," he replies.

"Even Johnny?"

"Especially Johnny," He grins.

I smile, "Seriously Ghost you should go sleep in your own bed that chair cannot be comfortable. I'd be in my bed if they would let me escape."

"I know you can't stand hospitals, I won't let you be sleepless and cranky alone."

"Fine, then at least share the bed with me, I forbid you from sleeping on that fifty-year-old chair."

"The fact that you think you can forbid me from doing anything sweetheart is laughable. Are you sure you want me to be over there might make your heart monitor scream again?" He makes his way over to the bed despite his words.

I roll my eyes, "I'll manage."

He lays on the small hospital bed and takes up ninety percent of it but I don't mind it because it doesn't smell like hand sanitizer and blood anymore it smells like him.

"Goodnight birdy," he kisses the top of my head and my heartrate monitor instantly starts beeping annoyingly again.

"Goddammit," I groan and he just laughs.

"You would make a terrible spy with all those emotions, you're lucky the red face works on you." he chuckles.

"You're just jealous of my amazing sniping abilities you must point out my flaws," I poke his chest.

"You ain't got no flaws birdy except the fact that you're stubborn as hell. Now go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

"Yes LT.," I fake salute him and he rolls his eyes.

Sleep comes so much faster in the med bay when you aren't alone, I wish falling asleep would always be this easy.

[puppysdog]

being depressed sucks but not being depressed is so fucking hard. bitches cant win at anything

[empresskylo]

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water. 

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go. 

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep. 

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained. 

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves. 

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly. 

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that. 

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price. 

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon. 

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting. 

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building. 

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this. 

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair. 

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in. 

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing. 

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream. 

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall. 

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing. 

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought. 

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind. 

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound. 

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone. 

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you. 

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic. 

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering. 

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack. 

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell. 

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him. 

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat. 

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan. 

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body. 

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you. 

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare. 

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them . 

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came. 

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise. 

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in. 

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before. 

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself. 

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory. 

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support. 

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time. 

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin. 

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time. 

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful. 

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life. 

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well. 

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you. 

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements. 

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all. 

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast. 

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever? 

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him. 

[chamomiletealeaf]

how do you think the cod boys would react to you being on your period…. like i feel like a lot of those mfs wouldn’t let it stop shit … 😳🥰

Tbh I'm not into period sex or anything like that, but I think they wouldn't mind. I think Johnny would be the most into it though.

warnings: period, period sex, suggestive comments, mostly fluff

Johnny wouldn't mind the blood, as long as he gets to fuck you and make you feel good. He'd actually initiate it.

"You feelin' alright love?" He asks.

"Mm ok. Why?" You ask.

"Just curious. You cramping at all?" He asks, almost hopefully.

"No? Not really. A little achey, but, not too bad." You respond, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused as to what he's getting to.

He makes a dissatisfied grunt and pouts.

"What's going on? You want me to be in pain?" You laugh confusedly.

"No no not at all bonnie. I just- know what helps soothe the cramps best." He smirks and you roll your eyes catching on after a second.

"I mean, now that you bring it up, I am feeling a little something." You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his neck smiling.

-

Gaz would be the sweetest, Price right up there with him. He would definitely love to lay on top of you like a weighted blanket giving you kisses and feeding you snacks. If your cramps got really bad, he would shyly suggest sex, only as a last resort.

"Honeyyyy" You sniffle, gripping onto his shoulder with him lying on top of you every time you get a pang of pain in your lower half.

"I know, I'm sorry sweetheart." Gaz coos, pecking your neck with little kisses while on top of you, his arms squeezing you tight.

"Hurts Gaz." You whimper.

"The meds aren't working hun? not the heating pad? nothing?" He asks.

You shake your head teary eyed.

Gaz takes a second to think and he gets noticeably shy, avoiding your eyes.

"Well, uh- I mean- there's another thing we could try. If you're comfortable of course." He mumbles.

"What is it?" You ask, desperate for any sort of relief.

"Well, uh-" He laughs shyly. "I heard that, well- I mean we could try having sex maybe- heard it can help with cramps. Only if you want." He stutters out quickly and you smile.

"Do you want to?" You ask, loving how cute he looks while embarrassed.

"I wouldn't be opposed no. Think it's worth a try- maybe?" He says, ducking his head into your neck, too shy to look you in the eyes after such a suggestion.

You lift his face up from your neck and kiss him.

"Help me get these off yeah?" You say, smile forming on his face.

-

Price would be just as sweet as Gaz, but more controlling, meaning he wouldn't let you lift a finger even to use the bathroom. Uh-uh, he's carrying you everywhere.

You accidentally bleed on his sheets and he wakes up not seeing you in the bed. He gets up, not noticing the stain at first until you walk back in with a wet warm towel.

"Oh. Sorry. I wasn't supposed to wake you. Just- go back to sleep." You tell him, embarrassed and panicked look on your face.

"What are you doing sweetheart?" Price asks, sitting up in the bed. It was pretty early, sun just rising so you both could see without the lights on.

"I- nothing just go back to sleep." You say, walking closer to the bed and pulling the sheets over the spot you stained his white bedsheets.

Price grabs the sheets and pulls them back, confused as to why you were so jittery and what you were covering.

When he pulls them back he sees a big red stain right where you were laying. You must have bled so heavily right through your pad/tampon that it woke you up. You look down at the warm towel you had embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

"Oh sweetheart.." He coos at you as he moves to stand up out the bedd, walking over towards you.

"I'm sorry John I'll clean it up. Just go back to sleep." You say, tears forming in your eyes from the overwhelming amount of hormones taking over your emotions.

"Honey come here." Price whispers, pulling you into a hug. "It's ok sweetheart no need to cry. C'mon let's get you in the shower hm? You want a bath maybe so you don't have to stand love?" He asks, rubbing your back while you cry to soothe you.

"But- the sheets." You sniffle into his chest.

"Love I don't give a bloody damn about the sheets. I'll take care of them while you just rest yourself now hm? Now answer the question, bath or shower?" He says, lifting your chin to look at him with his pointer finger and thumb.

"Shower, standing helps. Don't wanna sit in bloody water either." You say while Price wipes your tears.

"Ok sweetheart. I got you." He says, then picks you up bridal style.

"John I'm gonna get blood on you!" You squeal panicked.

"Oh hush- I don't care. You think I'm afraid of gettin' a little bit of blood on me?" He jokes reassuringly as he walks you to the bathroom.

He places you on the counter as he starts the shower.

"C'mon, give me those clothes darling. I'll wash them and the sheets. You'll have your favorite pajamas waiting for you when you're done. Just relax now hm?"

You strip in front of him and he lets his eyes wander. You look so beautiful even when you're miserable.

You hand him your clothes and he pulls you to him to kiss your forehead.

"And listen, if the shower doesn't help, I know another way to take all those icky feelings away." He smirks and you laugh.

"There we go. That's what I wanna see. Don't ever wanna see you feel bad baby."

-

Simon would be quiet, but always following you around right by your side just in case you need something. He's by your side more usual on your period, silently knowing what you're going through, so he makes sure he's always there and will do anything you ask immediately.

"Siiii" You whine.

He's immediately sitting up next to you on the couch to tend to you.

"Could you get me some tea please? Can't move." You look up pouting at him and how could he say no.

"Of course sweetheart." He says and immediately gets up.

He comes back in a few minutes with your tea to find you curled up in a blanket. He sets the tea down and quietly sits next to you and pulls you into his lap.

"Hey you ok lovie?" He asks and you stay silent, as if it hurts to even speak.

"Hey. What do you need baby?" He asks while brushing your hair from your eyes.

You turn into his chest and close your eyes.

"You wanna take a nap? I'll stay right here with you." He says and you shake your head.

"No? Ok hun. What do you want then? Can't give you what you need if you don't tell me sweetheart."

"Hurts." Is all you say, and you shift in his lap right on his cock and he grunts a little.

You look up at him with wide eyes hoping he'll get what you're saying.

"I know love, I know." He says. "You need me to rub your back? Show me where it hurts bun'."

You grab his hand and move his hands to your sore breasts.

"Aw they sore?" He gently squeezes and kneads your tits with one hand and you whine.

"Yeah. That feels good." You say, whimpering when he squeezes too hard.

"You need more love? Need me to fuck the cramps away?" He coos and you nod.

"Ok bun', let's get you on your back hm? All you gotta do is relax alright?"

You nod your head and close your eyes, letting Simon give you what you need.

[whillywisp]

Seeing a lot of talks about finnick as a dad/doting husband during pregnancy on the fyp and I must contribute to the conversation 🌱 (warnings: it's long and so fluffy you're gonna die). Part 1.

Part 2 ☁︎

The thing about Finnick is that he has a lot of love to give to anyone who would take it. His heart is overflowing with it, shining cerulean with it. So of course fatherhood came to him as easily as breathing—

Wrong. Have you seen that walking talking ball of anxiety, love and autism?

The day you tell him you're pregnant he passes the fuck out. On the floor. And when he wakes up he cries for an hour straight, thanking you enough times with kisses pressed into every inch of your skin he could reach that the words don't even sound like English anymore. He's so grateful, so fucking grateful and terrified but above all, completely and irrevocably in love with you.

Throughout the pregnancy, he's as paranoid as it gets to the point you have to beg him to please leave you alone and no, Finnick the baby won't be hurt if i eat too fast please breathe and let me breathe but it's all from a place of love. He's lost too much, almost everything in his life. The few people he could still keep were precious to him and he was not going to let any of them forget that least of all his babies. Or baby.

Finnick talks to the baby a lot. Asking the most bizarre question to your bump as if he actually expected a tiny, baby's voice to answer him. He was constantly on about something new and his favourite topic to talk about was whatever his new hyperfixation was and you just nodded and smiled because of course the baby wants to know how to do an alpine stitch! But it was so endearing and relieving to see him finally be happy, finally find a purpose, even if it was to just talk nonstop to your belly. He deserves this, these little pockets of happiness.

And one of his greatest happiness was taking care of you. Circling back to the fact that he starts hyperventilating when his lover so much as sneezes too hard, the hellscape that was pregnancy scared him. No, fuck it, it terrified him. So he did what he always did and loved to do and banned you from anything and everything that needed physical exertion. Chores of any kind were out of order. You were on a healthy diet of four meals a day and of course they included all your cravings that he always presented to you no questions asked thank you very much and you had to take naps, multiple of them, all with his presence as a requirement (you were sure those were just an excuse to cuddle you but you would rather take up another round of hunger games than call him out on it). He attended every appointment, had an alarm set for all the prenatal meds, and always a kiss for the belly and your lips just so you knew that this was it for him. You and your baby were the very centre of his universe and this was him orbiting you both. And you couldn't help but be grateful that you had him to love and cherish just as he did you.

And your favourite way of telling him you loved him was letting him take control over the one thing you knew he loved: baby shopping. With all due respect, this is the type of guy who bought baby shoes when he was eighteen with no baby in sight because look at how tiny this is it's so cute *big sparkly green eyes.* But it's particularly endearing watching him waltz around the store, arms full of onesies and plushies and you kind of just stand there, unable to do anything because what the fuck were you supposed to do at nine months pregnant and married to a man who you *checks notes* gifted a day where he could buy anything he wanted as a birthday present?

I promise you the answer was not 'go into an early labour the second he dumped the shopping bags in the living room' but who am I to say anything?

The baby coming two whole weeks early did not sit well with his anxiety. He was a mess, a complete and utter mess but he was also the most precious angel on this planet so seeing him holding back tears of fear so he could be there for you and hold you tight, so tight, because he was scared he would lose you broke your heart too. While the pain of the labour was bad, knowing he was close, holding you tight as he pressed gentle kisses everywhere, to cater to everything you needed, was enough to realise, he was the one. And you were going to fight through hell for him.

Such a wretched thing, love, you thought to yourself as you felt him shake beside you through the pain and haze, to ask you to hope against hope that the strain on your strength and your fading string of fate would persevere despite it all.

But you did. You survived and so did your precious little baby girl, and so did the last pieces of Finnick's soul, despite it all.

The first time he holds his tiny, tiny baby in his arms, something in his brain just clicks (or maybe his frontal lobe was finally fully developed because of course his baby picked the day before his birthday to make her own entry on planet earth) but whatever it was, it was perfect. His entire world narrowed down to the squirming little angel in his arms and he couldn't help but feel his heart leave his chest for the second time in his life to become hers. She fit right into the crook of his arms, the space in his neck. She fit into his life like another piece of puzzle that he never knew he was look for.

She was his little angel, his little girl. The person he never knew he fought through whole wars for but now, holding her against his chest as he watched you both sleep, he knew this is what he was meant to do. To love, to love, to love. For the sake of it. Simply because he could. Simply because he was alive and it was good enough reason to love with his entire being.

Part 1 because I don't exactly know if you people will like it enough to want more.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Yes, yes, we love a bit of hero whump, though may I suggest if it is not too much.... some villain whump? 👀

-💜

Most of the time, the villain could deal with injuries perfectly. In fact, they'd been in med school for several years and had perfected stitching up nearly every inch of their own body. Usually, they wouldn't accept help under any circumstances.

Partly because it felt wrong to bother someone else with their troubles, partly because they were terrified of other people's (non-existing) skills. They couldn't risk it.

But they assumed being placed under house arrest with the hero watching them wasn't exactly usual.

It happened in the middle of a card game between the two of them. A week ago, they would have never agreed to such silly things but after a few days, they had realised there wasn't much to do. No internet connection. No smartphone, no TV. Just this house and a hyperactive hero that couldn't sit still.

Once a week they got to call their parents.

In the exact moment as they put another card onto the stack, the villain felt the stitches open one by one. At first, they simply denied it, made themselves think that it wasn't that bad. They were simply mistaken; it was surely just the usual pain and they were exaggerating.

But the pain increased and they could feel the wetness of the blood trickle down their back. A week ago, before the hero had captured them, they'd been in a pretty rough shape. A swollen face, several nasty bruises and this one stab wound that kept reopening. And stitching their own back? That was more than a little challenge. They hated it, they loathed it.

"I think I have to use the washroom," they said.

"Oh, really? Now that you're losing, huh?" The hero raised an eyebrow. They took these games a little too serious. "Do you seriously expect me to go easy on you because I am the hero? I've been playing this game for years. I have mastered it and I will destroy you, no matter what it takes. No matter what you try, I will-"

"Okay, you win, oh almighty hero." They threw their cards onto the table. It was getting worse. They didn't even know if they could stand up without tripping. Their vision blurred. Everything seemed to turn upside down.

"'Hey, that's not how this works," the hero said. "You can't just give up like that. I was supposed to defeat you."

"M-hm." The villain stood up and for a second, they really thought they would pass out. They took in a deep breath.

"Wait, are you okay?"

"Hm?" The villain didn't find the hero's eyes right away and they could feel their own body sway. God, they needed painkillers, rubbing alcohol, thread, needle... "Yeah, be right back."

They walked past the hero, always in search for something to hold onto but they didn't come very far.

"Oh my god." The hero sounded a little too concerned. The villain thought themselves to be quite a good actor and they weren't even swaying that much. "What the...?"

The hero was next to them in seconds, their hand on the villain's arm. They held onto them.

"What did you do...?"

"What? Nothing, I...oh fuck..." Involuntarily, they grabbed the hero a little too harshly when they felt the wound pulsating.

"Your entire shirt is drenched in blood!" The hero's gaze had hardened and a more concentrated look had replaced their playful smile.

"I got it, it's alright," the villain mumbled. They let go of the hero to drag themselves to the bathroom but the hero had other plans.

"Lay down on the couch," they said.

"You're not my boss," the villain argued. Sometimes, they hated themselves for their stubborness but being nursed by the hero sounded like a greater punishment than even house arrest. Being vulnerable around them, letting someone else take care of them...it sounded like actual hell.

"Please," the hero said. They took the villain's hand and the villain was so confused by this gentle approach that they almost forgot about the pain. They were sure no one else would ever beg to take care of them. When they remembered how violent their capture had been and how many heroes had punched them, they got goosebumps.

They would never tell anyone but they were having nightmares about their fights. Anxiety was eating them up. So, they were almost glad that the hero was observing them at their home.

"It's fine, really," the villain mumbled. "I got it."

"You are bleeding out. You're not fine. Sit down." More or less of their own volition, the villain eventually sat down on the couch. "I'll take your shirt off now, alright?"

The villain's hand was still in theirs.

"Okay," the villain agreed. Their breath hitched and they prepared themselves for the inevitable pain that would follow. However, the hero wasn't rough with them.

"Isn't that from last week?" the hero asked while they pulled the bloody shirt over the villain's head.

"Yeah."

"They gave me an entire protocol about your injuries. There wasn't anything about a stab wound. Just your ankle and your face."

The villain smiled tiredly. "Sounds about right."

It wasn't a big secret that the agency preferred to be silent on how exactly they caught their villains.

Against the villain's burning back, the hero's cold fingers felt heavenly. They put their palm against the villain's skin and pushed them a little forward to see the injury better.

"Did you stitch that yourself?"

"I tried, yeah."

"It looks pretty good," the hero said. "Just give me a second, I will grab everything."

The hero stood up and left for the bathroom.

And the villain sat there, perplexed. When had they ever allowed someone else to even touch them? When had they ever undressed in front of someone else?

What was happening? Were they really this desperate loser who needed comfort that bad?

The villain stared at their hands, their trembling hands. There was no way they could stitch any wound like this, not even if it was on their thigh.

It was more than frustrating, more than a little annoying.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Allergies maybe?" the hero asked. The villain turned around and was surprised to see the hero with all the things they would have grabbed too. There were even painkillers and a glass of water in their hand. The villain shook their head. "Alright. Take this."

All of it was a little...too good to be true. What the hero asked seemed reasonable and their actions were too. The villain swallowed the painkillers and watched as the hero sat on the couch. They pressed a clean towel against the villain's wound and despite their carefulness, the villain hissed.

"Your pain from one to ten? How bad is it?"

"I..." the villain realised they had never thought about it. Usually when they tended to their own wounds they were like a machine, following instructions they had burnt into their system a long time ago. It didn't matter if it burnt or hurt, as long as the wound was closed. But the hero was actually communicating, they were careful and gentle. "...maybe a three?"

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, it's a five." The hero seemed to be another person completely, their jokes and their cheery manner were long gone, yet they were friendly and soft. Apparently, this was the professional side of the hero.

"Do you think it was a clean knife? Your wound doesn't seem to be infected."

"It should have been. Heroes clean their knives regularly, don't they?" For a moment, the hero was quiet and the villain wasn't sure if they had said the wrong thing. They cleared their throat. "Uhm, I can also stitch the wound, if you..."

"No, it's okay. It looks pretty clean, so I'm not going to put any alcohol on it. Don't want to damage your tissue." Woah. The villain had never really cared about that. They'd just drench their wounds in alcohol to kill any infection causing thing, even if that damaged their tissue. "One more thing before I start stitching."

"Yeah?"

"Just out of curiosity. Do you know whom of my colleagues did this to you?"

The villain's stomach tingled. The hero was probably not asking out of pure curiosity.

[cistematicchaos]

The psych ward was hell for so many different reasons (most of the staff hated Mad people, the food was mostly inedible, it was a glorified prison, ect) but one of the worst parts for me was how inaccessible it was as a physically disabled person.

I wasn't allowed to have my cane or my earplugs (both of which I need), I was "required" to shower daily or get marked as "noncompliant" even though I have severe pain issues that make that near impossible, walking was a constant requirement because not only were there "meetings" and "classes" that you attended or got marked "noncompliant" but if you needed water or I dunno help you had to walk to the front desk and ask. You also had to walk to the nurse's desk and stand in line to get medicine or get marked as "noncompliant" because she sure as hell wasn't going to bring it to you.

I was constantly getting both my glasses and my sunglasses taken from me by people who did not believe I needed them and the chairs were all hard plastic that did not work well with a broken body.

They also did not keep food allergies in mind and lactose intolerance also did not count as an allergy so that was hell too.

I have chronic migraines but "wasn't allowed" to take any medicine for it unless I wanted one ibuprofen. There were also windows everywhere and no curtains which went beautifully with super bright lights, so I never ever felt like I wasn't dying from a migraine and general light sensitivity. There were no quiet rooms, no dark rooms, nothing but light and loud. I was also taken off all my pain meds for over a day because they "weren't sure" if I "actually needed them" and I was taken off my heart medicine repeatedly because they really just thought I was too young for that.

I was given a walker instead of my cane, which does not work the same, and doctors constantly kept trying to take it away because "you don't really need that, do you?". There was often not enough space in certain areas for my walker which made me extra vulnerable because when I was being harassed by people, I couldn't just walk away and staff was pretty much useless.

Not to mention, we were "encouraged" to wake up at five in the morning every day and if we didn't, it would get written down, which is wild because my pain meds require I get a certain amount of sleep or they fuck me up.

It would've been hell even if I wasn't physically disabled but I am and all I could think the whole time was about people who had worse physical disabilities than me and needed more support and accessibility and how they would get or did get treated in places like this. There was almost no consideration all the time and staff was actively hostile over it.

A bunch of psych wards refused me as a patient because my files show I'm physically disabled. What are we supposed to do? Where the fuck do they think we can go?

[babybluebex]

Ok but being close with Eddie but never admitting how you feel about him in fear of losing his friendship. After the close call with the demobats you start to pull away and once he's healed enough he confronts you wanting to know why

oh anon i want you to know this started as a small blurb and i got SO carried away, so have this hehe warnings under the cut for mentions of blood and injuries

You couldn't even bare to glance at him without the memories returning, the rushing of blood in your ears as Eddie laid on the floor choking and dying, the cold in your heart when you thought he had died. He was asleep in the spare bed at Dustin's house, his trailer not having survived the earthquake, and you were the one tasked with watching him for the night. Typically, it was Dustin— to the outsiders who peeked in, it made more sense if there wasn't a revolving door of the wanted murderer's friends cycling in and out of the house— but you had begged him to even let you see Eddie. But now that you were next to him, you understood why Dustin had said no.

Eddie looked awful. Like, awful awful. "Microwaved shit," Eddie would say, if he were awake. His eyes were rimmed with purple and blue, his mouth dry, puffy, and still blood-stained. His hair hadn't been kept, and you absently pushed it back and combed through it as you watched him breath. His breathing was wheezy on every tired inhale, and he exhaled through his mouth. You couldn't take the sight of him, all bruised and battered in the small bed, and you bit your lip as you got up to leave. A glass of water would help your heavy heart, or maybe you could pretend it would and the placebo would help.

"Hey," came a gargled, raspy voice, and you turned quickly. Eddie was awake. He blinked blearily, probably overridden with pain, and he smacked his dry lips together a few times. "Where're you goin'?"

"Just getting some water," you said hastily. "I'll bring you back something. A-And some pain meds."

"Wait," Eddie told you, and he shifted in bed to face you. He didn't have a shirt, letting the wounds on his side and the scratches on his arms breath, and you looked away as the blankets fell to expose a smooth hip. "Oh, what? Never seen a hip?"

"Eddie," you sighed. While you were glad that his humor had remained, even in pain, you weren't in the mood for games. Every time those big, brown eyes landed on you, you felt sick, and you could only remember the screech of the tailed demobats as they nearly ripped Eddie limb from limb. But they hadn't, you reminded yourself. Eddie was alive. He was here and alive, even if he was in bad shape.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Where are you going?"

"I told you, I'm getting some water," you told him, and he shook his head slowly, carefully; his neck wound was still looking bad.

"No, not that," Eddie said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Ed," you sighed. "Why would you think that?"

Eddie sighed and touched his side gently, seeming like he was ready to drop the subject. "I'm sorry," Eddie said gently. "But thank you, for taking care of me and all."

"Of course," you told him. "You're my best friend."

"You're treating me like I'm not, though," Eddie said, and anger brewed in your stomach. Why won't he just leave it alone? "What happened? Why did that fuck you up so bad? If this were Dustin, you wouldn't be so torn up about it."

"I told you," you sighed. "You're my best friend, I can't just... I was covered in your blood, Eddie. I thought you were going to die in my arms, and I made my peace with it in seconds, and now..." Your voice broke, and tears dotted at your eyes. "And now you won't leave me alone!"

"What do you mean—"

"Every second of every day, you're there," you sniffled. "You're in my head and you won't get out! How am I supposed to function knowing that you're here and I can't help you?"

"Why are you pushing me away?" Eddie asked. "Why won't you even won't look at me anymore?"

"Because I love you!" you told him. "I love you and it fucking sucks to see you hurting so badly, so I... I just don't see it. I choose not to see you fighting for your life, and it hurts to pretend that you're not hurting, but it's easier for me to pretend because... Because I love you."

Eddie didn't seem taken aback by the confession, like you thought he would be, and he slowly reached out for you. You hated the way his hand and arm shook, and you quickly tangled your fingers with his. "I-I'm sorry," you mumbled. "I didn't mean to... Just dump that on you, I..." Eddie carefully tugged you back closer to his bed, and you sat back down in the chair and leaned forward, pressing your forehead into Eddie's chest. "I'm sorry."

Eddie's hands clumsily touched your cheeks, and he lifted your head up to look at him. His big eyes were full of tears, and he held your face in his weak hands. His thumbs smoothed over your cheeks, drying up your tears, and he whispered, "I love you too."

"Eddie—" you started. but he tugged you close to him before you could say more, and he kissed you. His lips molded to yours, like he was made to fit with you, and you kissed him back quickly, wishing and hoping that the moment was real. You needed Eddie to be kissing you, because then it was all real. You wanted everything to be real, even the bad parts, because the bad parts led you to him, to this moment.

"I really mean it," Eddie whispered, a shaky breath hitting your lips. Your arms went around him, and you guided him to lay back down. Obviously, sitting up and talking and doing so much was too much for him, and he winced as his wounds throbbed with pain. "I love you. I've loved you for years."

"Shut up," you laughed gently, and Eddie's hand took your tightly, tighter than you thought he would be able to.

"No," Eddie said. "You've opened this can of worms. Now you're gonna hear all about how much I love you."

You sniffled. "When did you realize?" you asked.

"Same moment as you," Eddie said. "When I was making my peace. I realized how much I would miss you, and it didn't make sense to me until you got to me. Watching you kneel down and feeling your warmth around me, I knew why I would miss you. Because I love you."

"You're so cheesy," you laughed lightly.

"Swiss cheese, maybe," Eddie said. "The amount of holes I've got..."

You sighed, and Eddie chuckled before a cough wracked through his body. "You know," you started as his coughing trailed off. "Getting attacked by wicked devil bats and living to tell the tale is pretty metal."

"I'm the most metal motherfucker ever," Eddie said, and you pushed back his hair to kiss his forehead. "Take that, Ozzy."

[kiiwiigii]

Night-Time Reading

Alec x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are having a rough day managing your POTS/CFS. All you want to do is relax and Alec is there to help.

Warnings:

Fluff! Nothing but tooth rotting fluff.

Word Count: 400+

Requested?: Yes!

So I'm going through a really rough time, I'm disabled (pots and CFS) and my cfs is acting up badly cause school started and I've been so busy I haven't had a break period, constantly walking and running and being busy. now I have a three day weekend so my body is letting myself feel the consequences of pushing myself too far, so I was wondering if I could suggest some comfort? Alec with a mate that either has cfs or just has some symptoms and just him keeping them as comfortable as possible while they're in pain Common symptoms (including the ones I'm going through) - joint pain (I can barely go up stairs and walk -extreme temp fluctuations (really hot to really cold quickly) -brain fog (brain is foggy. I'm too weak to open a bottle of coke so I left it open and while talking I tipped it over and forgot it was open) -migraines/headaches -sore throat -trembling -really tired but can't fall asleep and/or sleeps for a really long time Thank you for listening 🫶🏼 -🦊

A/N: Hey nonny! I am so, so sorry it has taken me this long to write this. Honestly, I was (and still am I suppose) intimidated to write this, simply because these illnesses are not something I am not even remotely familiar with. But I also want to thank you because it's a good writing exercise for me. I'm also sorry that you're having such a rough time. I can't even imagine. So here's a fic, just for you, darling. I hope you're feeling better.

Another A/N: So the wonderful and amazing @alecvolturi did an amazing edit of Alec reading the first bit of The Hobbit. Please give it a listen as you read. It's PERFECT.

Miserable.

I was fucking miserable.

It began just by sitting up. I could feel the migraine building, and I was already in the throws of a hot flash. It didn't help that the pain in my joints was flaring up again.

It was 3 a.m. and I was already this close to crying. I couldn't remember the last time that I had a proper nights sleep. I just wanted one day, one day where I didn't have to be in pain or worry that any movement I made would set off a whole other series of symptoms, all of which almost all of them were painful.

"Darling?" Alec was next to me, his cold hands running over my heated skin, trailing goosebumps behind in his wake.

His hands were a sweet, cool balm on my flushed skin. It gave me a little relief. I leaned into him, enjoying the cold. His lips pressed to my forehead.

"Scale of 1 to 10?"

"7 to 8." I mumbled.

One would think with how long that I've lived with this disease that I would have a high pain tolerance. That couldn't be further from the truth. I could already feel a few tears slipping from beneath my lashes. I just wanted something to make the pain go away.

I whined as Alec disappeared, only to reappear with my meds and a bottle of water a moment later.

"Here, drink." He handed me the pills and water, and I took them gratefully. He pulled the comforter from the floor where I had kicked it off, bundling it back up on the bed for us to lay down on. He then grabbed my phone, pulling up my favorite playlist, the one he made for me to help me calm down when I felt like shit. The music started flowing through the speaker near my bed at a low volume.

"What book, darling?" His eyes were already scanning my bookshelves.

"Uhm…" I blinked back at him slowly, trying to process what he said.

"How about The Hobbit?"

"Perfect." I rasped with a small smile.

He was next to me again in a flash, his back against the headboard as he pulled me gently to him, a pillow already ready in his lap.

"In the hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit." His voice lilted over me, and I felt myself begin to relax as his hands gently ran through my hair and along my neck.

The fine mist that signaled the use of his gift began to unfurl from his fingers and I felt myself begin to numb. The first time he had done this it had been disconcerting, but now I welcomed it with relish. A small reprieve from the pain. I smiled to myself, letting my eyes slip closed as I listened.

Then finally, sleep came for me.

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[princelylove]

My Prince,

If it would be to your liking, would you share your personal intelligence rankings, which you spoke of in the tags of a previous request, to the court?

Thank you, Your Highness.

Intelligence is classified by your ability to apply things you already know and the skills you already have. You can be bright but slow, or a quick thinker but lack experience. There's many things to take into account when talking about intelligence. This may not make sense, as I am a bit loopy from switching meds recently.

Loosely:

Giorno is obviously at the top. I think it's criminal that his intelligence is listed as a B on his stats. Giorno doesn't slack in any of the things I understand intelligence to be, he applies absolutely everything he has and somehow never misses. Giorno spent his entire childhood figuring social etiquette out the hard way, he's hard wired to figure out what to do and not to do as quickly as possible. To Giorno, survival means being the best of the best. Has he always been absolutely perfect? No. Has he always bounced back? Yes.

Trish is fairly young, it's a bit unfair to put her up against grown men. She takes after her father in many ways- one being how clever she is. She may not understand stands yet, or why she couldn't just stay home and never go out again, but she's very quick to adapt. Trish did well in high school, she had a high gpa and did lots of extracurricular activities, which just means that she's a hard worker. Her ability to adapt and her natural curiosity is what leads me to believe that she's on the higher end, it's just that she lacks experience pre canon. Post canon, she's a force to be reckoned with. A Trish that understands how to fully use her stand, how to do what her father did and make someone disappear entirely, and how to manipulate the public so they think her kidnapping victim lovely darling is on tour with her is a very dangerous Trish indeed. If this is strictly pre-canon, bump her down to the middle-lower end.

Some people may not like Guido being in the top three, but I'm fairly firm on it. Guido's a quick thinker and has managed to stay alive for this long. Does he understand things like infections and germs? Not really. Could he, if you explained it to him? Sure. Guido's street smart- he never went to college, but he reads a lot. He's a curious guy! If something interests him, he'll look into it. He's got great instincts and a ridiculous amount of luck, which isn't intelligence, but often will help him figure out what's going on. He checks for Sale's shadow under a truck, he yells at Narancia for not telling him the stove was on and it wasn't safe to fire his revolver. He knows what he's doing, even if it seems like he's just fucking around until something clicks. That's kinda scientific theory, isn't it? Fuck around and find out? Yeah, he gets it.

Pannacotta... the author Her Highness does not believe in IQ tests, as most people who claim to have a high IQ got it off of some online test made to stroke the quiz taker, but I believe Pannacotta is very intelligent. He's just not socially intelligent, which bumps Trish and Guido above him. He left behind his prissy, rich lifestyle in favor of being homeless for a little while before Bruno found him- he's left behind most manners and forgotten most unspoken rules. In this case, Trish and Guido outdo him. What worth does purely academic intelligence have if you cannot apply it, and it has nothing to do with the situation? Pannacotta is intelligent, but he isn't creative enough to apply what he has. Who makes a vaccine on the spot like that?????? If he wasn't so in his head all the time, he'd probably be a lot scarier. I mean, who thinks to put capsules in things you're not supposed to be touching anyway?

I think it's a bit silly to put Bruno so low when he is, in fact, an adult with a fully developed prefrontal cortex. I don't think Bruno is unintelligent at all, he's a man of average intelligence for his age. He's only so low because everyone above him is not average, even if they pretend to be. An older, more mature Pannacotta would have him in too many categories for comfort. Guido has him in reaction time and blind instinct, and while some may argue that isn't intelligence, it's applying what you've got. Bruno can be a little slow at times mentally, but never in combat. He pauses to make decisions that would take Giorno a split second. He makes mistakes that, although he makes up for later on, he still makes in the first place. He's formidable- he has experience and knows how to use it, but he's not very creative.

Narancia's not all there all of the time. It's not fair to say Narancia's stupid because he isn't good at math or academics in general, you can be smart and have weaknesses. But not Narancia. He's a little lacking. He doesn't try to make up for it at all, but he's figured some things out that he definitely shouldn't have before, saving him from dead last. Narancia has some crazy instincts, but he doesn't really know what to do with them. Instincts don't equal intelligence, but it helps. He'll take credit for anything you're willing to blame on him- FUCK yeah he figured out you're trying to escape 'cause you left some shit on the table. (He felt it in his tummy and got anxious that you're leaving him.)

Leone went through some schooling, but he barely passed. You could always argue that he was too depressed to do his work, but I personally don't believe so. Leone's slow and prone to picking the hard way- not because he's a masochist, but because he's been living off of going "Well, one of these is right." for the past three years. He's just happy he finally got a stable job. His instincts are terrible, his reaction time is shit, he has very slow realization in general- the list goes on. Does that mean you're getting off easy? Nope. He's still taller, and stronger. Doesn't take a lot of brains to pin someone, especially when it's muscle memory. Leone can bump himself up over Narancia eventually, but only because Narancia is emotionally stunted. You have him in the emotional maturity (aha. Leone and emotional maturity?) category, and what else? Get a grip. Leone knows how to do more- makeup and cosmetics is a skill, so is media literacy- but Nara's got him in reaction time, realizing that dots do in fact connect, and learning how to put you in your place at a faster rate.

[alisria]

i know i am just smad because im tired and in pain and havent eaten in 12 hours and have no plans to but

i think as i approach 30 i am really starting to lose my mind a little bit about how ive spent 27 years putting my life on hold until X. like oh i will go out and do new things when i have X. i cant enjoy travelling until i have X. i cant be happy until i have X. and like. X doesnt seem possible anymore. i dont have the willpower to make it happen. i dont care enough. because i never gave myself anything to care about because that was something that would come after X. well what the fuck do i do when X never comes? feel like this forever? because ive certainly been dealing with that reality my entire life. and i can look at my friends and see they dont need X to be happy and thats fine and im so glad for them and i dont WANT them to need X but i do.

and it's like. okay well if X is my obstacle, what are the steps i need to take to get X? okay well join your support groups. go to your doctor. get more doctors. beg for help with X from them. from your family. and then the support groups say "you dont want it enough", the doctors say "you shouldnt want X at all", and your family doesnt answer your pleas because what you want doesn't matter, you dont want it enough, you should be doing other things, etc. and it's like. all my life i have felt like an absolutely massive part of me is missing. and the only thing that will fix it is X. doctor will give you vyvanse. doctor will give you all the hormones you can dream of without you even fucking asking. doctor will offer gender affirming surgery you dont even want. but you beg for X, you beg for help just getting closer to X, you write out a page of reasons why X would get you closer to finally feeling like a real person, like yourself, a self you havent even fucking met yet at nearly 30 years old, and doctor goes "ehhh well you need to learn to be happy without X. because you can't have it." and its like well girl what the FUCK do i do because thats the only thing ive literally ever wanted and i've structured my entire life over the pipe dream of maybe having it someday and i CANT have anything else until i have X and they kind of shrug and give you another doctor that goes yeah no you dont get a diagnosis and nothing is wrong with you and i wont help you get X so no more appointments call me if you need me but doctor i am fucking pagliacci.

and there's that nagging thought, that if i get X, nothing will change. the support groups tell you this. nothing will change. you will still be socially inept, you will still be mentally ill with agoraphobia, you will still struggle every fucking day of your life with choices that tear you apart. and i can hear that for 10 years and still feel incomplete without it. i am defective goods and i need a part installed and people either say "well you dont need that part to work!" "you can be happy without the part!" "you can never have the part, even if you get it installed it will never work so why even bother?" and this is supposed to feel like support. this is supposed to be positivity. but it's not. maybe it is for other people. but it isnt for me. but i can have hormones if i want!!!!! here you can transition wont that make you feel better!!!!! wont that make you hate yourself less!!!!! have as many hormones as you want!!!!!!!

and on tuesday im going to go to the doctor and smile and say everythings great im fine physiotherapy is working the meds are working everything is perfect see you in 3 months when i am quite literally rotting inside and there is no cure

im going to bed

[freaky-munson]

Lady days - B.Hargrove

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Domestic vibes that is cute, little stories based on simple seemingly not big life events ✨🫶

stories will not be connected to each other; steve/eddie/billy/robin x reader

Words: 617

the one where Y/n is on her period

Billy Hargrove with hands full of different period products was a rare view. Billy Hargrove patiently talking with his stepsister Max and actually listening to her carefully was even rarer.

While Max herself was slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed by talking about menstruation itself, fact that she talked about it with Billy who publicly showed that he didn’t necessarily like her, wasn’t helping; but seeing his red cheeks, love and care hidden in his blue eyes clearly shown towards his surprisingly long term girlfriend- who by the way adored the redhead girl like her own little sister - overweight any discomfort.

“Remember that every girl is different. Some don’t have cramps and backaches. But there are girls who can’t even stand up from the bed”

“How the fuck am i supposed to know what kind of girl is Y/n” Billy was getting frustrated, he really wanted to help but he also was aware that he didn’t knew anything about his girl’s period.

“Aren’t you dating for like over the year? It’s like at leat 12 periods.”

“She always avoids me for few days each month, saying that she her mum helps her during it. But as you know her mum went on some business trip and Y/n is alone now”

“Okay, so here what’s you’re gonna do…”

After writing down everything down on a little random piece of paper, he rode straight to local supermarket where he immediately bought some snacks, painkillers, different packages of pads and tampons, heating pad and flowers, remembering Y/n loved getting those.

On the other hand Y/n was really miserable; not preparing herself for the next few days was really biting her butt now. Being low on hygiene products and pain meds was one of her biggest regrets at the moment. Not having any strength she was postponing the trip to the pharmacy every passing hour.

Of course she could call her boyfriend, but she was kinda nervous. She always tried to avoid him during this time of month just because she was anxious that he would be disgusted of her.

But when the tears hit her pretty eyes she knew that it was only rational choice. Finally leaving the bed and doing her little trip to get to kitchen right to the phone was disrupted by knocking on the door.

Looking like some hobo wasn’t ideal to open the door to some stranger but right know Y/n couldn’t care less.

“Billy? What are you doing here?”

“Baby girl, I’m happy to see you too. Can you let me in?”

Shocked girl immediately got out of boy’s way, letting him go into her house

“We weren’t supposed to meet today, right?”

“I know baby, but your mum is gone and-“ blush was visible on whole blonde’s face; Y/n only could think how cute her boyfriend was right now “and you have your lady days. So I came with necessities. Well those what Max has told me about. And I wasn’t sure what you exactly needed so I bought almost every kind”

Y/n’s eyes became glassy and her heart felt so full of love that it could burst any moment. Not knowing what to say she just grabbed him by the neck to lower his face and gave him big, passionate kiss.

“I love you so much. Who would have thought that Billy Hargrove has human feelings?”

“You can laugh all you want but no one would believe you” his eyes laughed together with his mouth “Come on. Let me take you to bed where I could cuddle with you and help you with anything you want”

And all the pain Y/n has suffered today magically lapsed.

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domestic vibes

@nightthou @dessmxsworld @thxliaaa @screambih

[beesmygod]

do you mind talking about what made effexor so bad for you? also where can I read about this streamer fake death lol

all the stuff on thedarkid is on SA in the sagas thread lol. i would prefer not to post a link bc the quality of new posters is at an all time low on that website and i dont want to contribute to the problem.

AS FOR EFFEXOR: i am prefacing this with the fact that this is my personal experience as a result of my body chemistry. effexor might work for some people with different body chemistry. my suggestion would be to try everything else first before resorting to this one and to be ready to feel really, really bad when discontinuing it.

i got off effexor because the negatives of taking it finally outweighed the positives and the problem i had been taking it for was no longer relevant. this will make me sound ridiculous so keep in mind i took crazy meds for this exact problem, but after we bought and moved into the house, i started having nightly panic attacks and weeping fits over both the decadence of my new non-renter lifestyle (which was materially going to impact the quality of my work and how i viewed reality) and the fact that i had taken a really big step toward commitment without having resolved the source of my deep social anxiety. i could realize how i was behaving and reacting was not normal and until i could get a therapist to address it, i was going to have to put a bandaid on it.

effexor flattened my emotions and my affect lol. this is really, really good for when you cannot reach a baseline of normality. this became bad when that flatness turned into apathy and started sliding into my day to day life. doing basic household chores became a daily struggle. then i started not making my deadlines on time because i completely lost the will to draw, which actively began to terrify me. and then once i started struggling to bathe and brush my teeth i was like "okay. something is really really wrong". so then i started the process of getting off.

that's the broad overview. i did not realize the extent of the damage it was causing me until i started getting it out of my system:

my sleep schedule was destroyed bc it gave me terrible insomnia.

night sweats. NIGHT SWEATS.

theres been a rash on my face for over a year that ive thrown EVERYTHING at to try to get rid of, thinking it was anything from lupus to a yeast infection. it turns out its just caused by the pill. it goes away when theres less in my system o_o

my lip was also split for a year. my gums were covered in sores. and the inside of my nose felt like someone put a weed whacker in there and sliced it up. huge scabs. constantly in tiny flecks of pain. miserable but not unbearable, you know?

pussy felt like sandpaper.

i didnt even notice this until later but it also made me fail to derive pleasure from the touch of another person. but like i wanted to. if someone held me or squeezed my hand it felt almost painful. shit made no sense but you just think "this isnt how its supposed to feel? whats wrong with me?". but like that's over. it stopped. it feels good again.

food tasted bad. and i dont mean no flavor i mean BAD. i say this a lot but i cannot understate how fucked it made my palate. its normal again thank god. i have a bag of coffee that tastes different depending on when the last time i took a pill was. i spent the last year complaining about how bad processed food tastes now like all companies decided to make their product bad instead of something being wrong with me specifically. but when adam's cooking started to taste bad i was like "wait. what? thats not possible". lol thanks honey for helping me realize....

this one is really weird: it would cause specific parts of my body to feel stiff. the worst and most chronic part was the small of my lower back, which felt pulled taught so tight it was uncomfortable. then it spread to the fingers of my right hand, causing me to have to stop every few minutes and scrunch my fingers to try to alleviate it. this symptom only returns after i take a dose now. it makes me thrash like a fish trying to get comfortable at night

[bruinhilda]

I'm so tired.

My Dad has...let's call them serious medical issues. They don't threaten his life on the day-to-day, but they can when they suddenly flare up. He also has what I would call "inconvenient issues," such as weight and incontinence, that instantly cut off a lot of health and transport services.

I can't drive. I spent 10 years trying in my 20s. I'm so tired of having to explain this to people who can't comprehend an inability to drive. I have no other family living here who can help. I have one sister 2000 miles away with her own elder care issues, and that's it. I don't have close friends that I can just randomly impose on.

Dad's docs sent him to the ER today. A non-emergency ambulance ride was helpfully arranged. But the ER just discharged him after a few hours. "Treated and released."

He has no way to get home. It's Friday night, all of the transport companies that *could* handle his weight and lack of mobility refused. His usual service requires 24 hour notice, and doesn't take reservations after 5pm. The same ambulance service *will* bring him home...tomorrow afternoon.

He's stuck sitting in the ER. I can't get to him. I've been assured he'll get basic care, but I can't get confirmation that they'll, y'know, give him his meds, because they don't do that when you're discharged. The patient care coordinator is "looking into it." At least I had her help, because I honestly don't know where to even start. I've looked into transport services before and had absolutely no luck in even finding them, much less getting their service.

I'm constantly told by random "helpful" people about all these wonderful services that exist to make all of this easier, and to care for people like Dad. They INSIST there's help. But if you look into it, the services either flat don't exist, or they do, but they won't help YOU, because you don't qualify. You need too much assistance they can't help with. Or they only offer care that doesn't actually help your issue.

Sometimes you're told that you have to be "persistent." You have to keep badgering people and ignoring the no until they cave and help you. Which one, is utterly insane. And two, has never fucking worked for me. When I get emotional, I get *nothing*. People won't deal with me if I get too angry or upset. And they certainly won't explain how I'm supposed to do what they expect me to do to unlock the magic cheat codes that will solve all my problems.

You can't help but feel the cruelty of it all. How you don't fit into the overall fantasy everyone else lives in. How people just shrug and decide that you must not be doing enough, therefore it's all your fault you couldn't get help. Just learn to drive! How? I tried, it didn't work, what am I supposed to do to get past the repeated failure? Just do this, just do that. I don't know how. Nobody is going to show me the 'how', you're just supposed to magically figure it out. It's supposed to just work out, somehow. Oh, it didn't? Well, you fucked up. You shouldn't do that. Do it right, and things will be okay. Why can't you just do it right, why do you expect others to hold your hand and help you? You shouldn't need so much help! Oh, things got really bad, didn't they? Why didn't you ask for help?

I know we're not the only ones. There are people "slipping through the cracks" all the time. Often they die from it. I suspect I'll die from it when I'm older and more disabled, because I won't even have someone as bad as it like me fumbling to help me like I fumble to help my Dad.

Don't get me wrong, I've had some shocking acts of kindness in dark moments. People going above and beyond to help out a stranger, often without even being asked. There *are* people who do try to help. But those are individuals, and they *are* going above and beyond. Our society as a whole is cruel, it's set up to be cruel and unhelpful, and it's masked by the firm belief in the fantasy that help is always there for you if you need and deserve it. When it's not, you wake up to the lie. But nobody will actually believe you until they're up shit creek with you.

Thank you for reading my wail. But please, don't start suggesting I look for help from services you assume must be there, somewhere.

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Lmfao, so for whatever reason I decided to look at the DID tags on twitter, probably as a form of digital SH and the first post I see on there annoys the fuck out of me

TW for discussion of self harm and self injury

Ok so first thing I see is this

And this is definitely a touchy subject subject for me, I get hyper critical when I see it discussed, especially since some early conversations with my therapist. Even before that discussion though I've always hated the way self harm is discussed even if I couldn't articulate those feelings.

And that's because abstinence as a moral imperative might be the most damaging ideology to ever worm it's way into society.

I mean, even the title of that article "First, Do No Harm, Not Even to Yourself" is soaked in moral judgement, "hurting other people is wrong and bad, right? So why would do a wrong and bad thing to yourself? You wouldn't download a razor blade" and it doesn't even make a proper argument on the moral philosophy of harm, she merely attempts to imply immorality by association. Hurting others is wrong because it violates their autonomy, your liberty to swing your arm ends just where my nose begins, right? It's about consent. In BDSM, a sadist may physically hurt a masochist because they have consented to it being done to them. Similarly, gender affirming care doesn't violate the Hippocratic Oath no matter how strongly a transphobe feels about it because informed consent is given to the treatment. Conversely, genial reconstruction surgeries performed on intersex babies or even infant circumsions should be considered a violation because consent has not and cannot be given.

But how does this apply to self-harm? It's your body, it's your autonomy, you aren't violating shit. Even being in a system no single alter has complete authority over the body, it's still possible to come to a consensus without unanimous agreement because guess what? Making decisions while having conflictual feelings or being in two minds is a perfectly normal human experience.

Am I saying you should self harm? No. Of course not. I'm simply saying that self harm is not an immoral act and I will remove the personhood of anyone that tries to weaponise shame in this way against people who almost certainly feel an incredibly painful and torturous amount of shame and guilt already.

The article is also vaccuously lacking in substance. The author seems to think this 'gotcha' is a sufficient argument but itself, checkmate traumatised liberals, but obviously needs to generate ad revenue through scrolling so offers 8 "new realities" to help reinforce a morally pure and healthy mindset.

1. Feelings are survivable and containable

Uhhh sure, they can be, if you have the right coping mechanisms to deal with them. You can't just tell someone to forgo the coping mechanisms they already have without successfully replacing them with something equally or more effective though. The whole point of dissociation from trauma is because certain feelings ARE deemed to be unsurvivable by the brain, you're not weak minded for thinking so.

2. We have art, reading, distractions, therapist, meds

Yeah no shit, that's not always enough though and you haven't failed if you try them and they don't work, the coping mechanisms have failed, not you.

3. We deserve to feel better

So true! Self harming makes me feel better when emotional distress is overwhelming me, I'm glad we agree

4. We don't need to guarantee pain

You know what guarantees pain? Shaming yourself out of using a coping mechanism without addressing it's root cause, but that's ok because feelings are "survivable" right?

5. We don't have to hurt via self-abuse

I actually don't know what that's supposed to mean, I can hurt myself without hurting myself? I don't have to self harm? I know I don't have to, but I can if it's better to do so than to not

6. Our trauma is over, why continue it?

First of all fuck you, retraumatisation is a very well noted trauma response, but so is shame and guilt so who's really continuing our trauma here?

7. We don't have to stand vigil over pain to honour abused parts

EXACTLY! That's what coping mechanisms are for, hey guess what coping mechanism can be really effective at temporarily relieving emotional pain? I'll give you a hint, it's not reading.

8. We will honour our abused parts with self compassion, understanding, acceptance, and encouragement

Once again so true! I will be compassionate to abused parts, understanding and accepting of the coping mechanisms they choose, while encouraging exploration of healthy alternatives without shaming them if they don't work.

Her website is littered with BuzzFeed style listicles of "25 ways to avoid self injury and prevent self harm" "25 more ways to avoid self injury and prevent self harm" "another 25 even more ways to avoid self injury and prevent self harm" and like, sure, they're all perfectly fine distraction techniques but what really pisses me off about the wording of these is that they're framed as ways to distract yourself from the urge to self harm, as though the urge itself is what's wrong, and not the pain and hurt that the urge is a response to.

Just watch one more movie bro, trust me bro, this next one will be the one that makes the pain go away bro just trust me one more movie bro.

I have wasted so much fucking time hating myself and shaming myself and feeling like a failure for breaking my streak. Torturing myself during some of the most emotionally distraught moments of my life because "it doesn't matter how much pain I'm in I can't give into the urge, I can't do that, no matter what I mustn't ever do that" imagining how much worse I'll feel when I punish myself for being too weak.

Do you know what I do now? I take note of the feeling, give it space and allow it to be present and I make a bargain with myself. I will give myself 2 hours to distract and soothe from the emotional pain that I or another part is experiencing, and if that doesn't work then we'll self harm with no shame or judgement. And you'll never guess what, I haven't even come close to self harming, and that's great! And maybe sometime it won't be enough and that'll be fine too, it'll just mean I really needed to. The parts that want to self harm feel respected and listened to, my hurt and abused parts feel seen because I'm paying attention to them and not fighting with the self harm part and we all get to move through the experience with grace.

8. We will honour our abused parts with self compassion, understanding, acceptance, and encouragement

Fucking damn right I will, in every way I can.

So yeah, that was my first 5 seconds on DID twitter how was your day?

[wen-kexing-apologist]

HA! GOTCHA! 3, 11 and 18

Ooo, good choices, these options are really going to necessitate some thought on definitions for me.

3- Childhood Sweethearts

Okay so for me the first question is, what counts as childhood? Did they have to have declared some type of romantic feelings for each other when they were kids? Do we consider any couple that came together in high school to be childhood sweethearts, because that’s normally how I see that terminology utilized in real life? Do we count childhood sweethearts to be people in adult relationships where we find out later that they met as children (lol, no.)

I regret to inform you that I might just have to give this to

Cutie Pie

I am thinking about the shows I have seen where the couples met as kids but are adults now, and there really aren’t that many. I won’t consider high school BLs in the childhood sweethearts category because I am a happy for now kind of person and getting together in high school does not equate to being together forever. That leaves me only a handful: I Can’t Reach You, My Only 12%, Bad Buddy, I Told Sunset About You, and Cutie Pie that really give me an established childhood relationship and then some level of time skip to an older period in their lives. Of that list I feel like I Can’t Reach You and My Only 12% are much more in the friends to lovers camp, ITSAY is a friends to enemies to lovers kind of deal, and Bad Buddy is it’s own special brand of enemies to lovers. And in all of those cases there is one character that is aware of their feelings for much longer than the other. 

So it is Cutie Pie for me because Lian and Kuea both loved each other their entire lives. They’ve been engaged since they were children, and even though Kuea is constantly searching for where he left his last brain cell and that gets in the way of him seeing how much Lian loves him, it cannot be denied from an outsider perspective that those two have been in love their entire lives. And honestly, I don’t think Yi and KonDiao are any different in that regard. The love for both couples has existed forever, the tops just have to learn to use their words. 

11- Forbidden Love

If I were to go obvious for the Forbidden Love trope, the answer would be Bad Buddy absolutely no contest, but I AM GONNA GO NONTRADITIONAL HERE MUAHAHAHA

He’s Coming to Me

He’s Coming to Me is one of the strongest BLs I’ve seen. It makes me sad to no end that this show gets so little attention and that its distribution got fucked with because I think everyone who hasn’t seen this show should watch it and everyone who has seen this show should watch it again. I consider this a (non-traditional) forbidden love because by all accounts it should not happen. Med is dead and Thun is alive, and they spend the entirety of the show trying to help Med move on, and for most of the show Med and Thun literally cannot touch. I consider He’s Coming to Me a subversion of the standard forbidden love trope because of how incredibly queer I consider the show to be. Thun spends years hiding his powers, pretending that he can’t see Med, pretending to be normal for years, until one day he has had enough. But once he stops giving a shit, once he starts interacting with Med in public? I cannot for the life of me get the image of all those other people’s face out of my head. I think probably too often about that scene where everyone is looking at Thun with the utmost judgment and I just can’t think about it as anything other than two people who are not supposed to be together, choosing to be together anyway, for however long they can, until reality catches up to them.   

18- Slow Burn

Hmmmm. This is hard because I feel like all of the BLs I’ve seen are too short for a real slow burn. So for the sake of this game, I am considering my slow burn to be whatever show drove me fucking crazy yelling at the screen and wanting at least one character to get their fucking shit together. So I am giving it to 

I Told Sunset About You

This would probably constitute as a non-traditional option as well, but holy fucking shit the way I needed Teh to figure his shit out, stop being a coward, and just commit. My favorite type of slow burn is the one where the characters are generally aware of what is going on but they have to fight with themselves to get to the end goal. I think that has a tendency to play better than some late in the game romantic realization. The tension that keeps building and building and building only to shatter right before its crescendo is really what does me in. Oh has known he has feeling for Teh for fucking ever and Teh wakes up decently early to the fact that he has feelings for Oh, but then it is still like pulling fucking teeth, while walking through fucking molasses, to get to the finish line where Teh finally asks Oh to be his boyfriend. This show is such a slow burn for me personally that not even the little admission of Teh’s feelings in the hammock, nor the kiss in episode 4 is enough for me to feel like we have reached the end of the slow burn. I think it is my favorite slow burn because where normally an admission or a kiss from the more hesitant person would mark the end of the burn, Teh saying he has feelings for Oh, Teh rubbing up on Oh in episode 3, Teh making out with Oh in episode four, none of those feel like the resolution point in their quest to get together.

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