#the insane urge to change absolutely everything about myself

[kaguya-muneuji]

... tired. burnout.

[eijirousbestie]

since ur one of the realistic bakugou writers (just like what that anonie said) what do u think about: 1.him being jealous over his s/o. we always see those possessive or jelly bakugou writings, but i think it's kinda over exaggeration sometimes. 2.with affectionate s/o? like, i know things may be very awkward at the start of their relationship but what if his s/o suddenly has the urge to pepper kisses all over his face & hug him so tight? srry if it's stupid😭

Jealousy + Affection

Jealousy

——————————————-

He’d unsuspectingly pull them into his room when they aren’t looking, closing the door behind the two and standing tall with a displeased frown on his face. Jealousy is one of the feelings Katsuki rarely ever feels. And when he does, he absolutely hates it. It doesn’t make sense to him. He has everything he could ever need. An incredible power, insane strength, intellect like no other and a tongue as sharp as a knife. What the hell would he ever be jealous about? Or at least that’s what he would’ve thought before he got close enough to someone to call his own.

“We needa talk,” he’d grumble, brows knit together. “That ‘new friend’ of yours is pissing me off. I swear they only ever need you when I finally have you to myself.”

He’s realistic. He knows they’re not just gonna drop someone for him just because he doesn’t like them for unproved reasons, but that still doesn’t mean he won’t stop wishing they will. Until then, he’ll keep taking extra measures to make sure they can make up for lost time spent together. He’d spend extra time giving TLC he usually wouldn’t, feeling like he’d need to remind his partner where home really is.

In no way is he being overtly possessive or trying to tie his partner down. That’s just crazy as hell. He’s just worried about the third party’s intentions with his person, untrusting of what their motives may be or what their influence is on his partner. He knows they can handle their own but still it’s just a normal concern.

Then again, this is Katsuki we’re talking about so when he has his mind set on something it’s hard to change his mind about it, but he tried to be flexible for them. He tries. Jealousy is a bitch.

————————————————————

Affection

Having an affectionate partner isn’t always the easiest for Katsuki to deal with but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. Most likely this person would be one of the very few relationships he’s had throughout his life. Being career and goal focused for years on end left him with no time to think about all that lovey dovey bullshit other people his age would drown in. But everybody wants somebody, even if it’s just a friend.

And that’s how the two had started. Being friends with Katsuki is no easy feat. Having to put up with constant yelling, bickering and outrageously childish arguments, it wasn’t a cake walk. But it sure as hell was still fun just like any other friendship. The two had gotten along unsuspectingly well even though their personalities were near opposite. Him being reserved and self righteous; them being outwardly friendly and super connected to people.

In most cases Katsuki wouldn’t give someone like them the time of day, but of course they’re a rare case. His rare case. Katsuki could find solace in them knowing that whatever stupid shit he might spew could easily be returned with matched energy. The sense of mutual respect would then blossom them into a budding relationship, one where he could feel safe enough to fall with them completely.

At the beginning, yes it was a bit awkward. He wasn’t the skinship type at all and didn’t really understand why someone had to be glued to another person’s skin damn near 24/7. But after being slowly acclimated to hand holding, he starts to warm up to mutual touch. Having gotten used to being hugged up by them since the earlier stages in their friendship, of course he knows all their tells months into their new relationship.

Occasionally coming in for a hug, he’d accept, letting them do so as long as it wasn’t overly performative. There’s a happy balance in everything so he’d gotten to learn how to take it with stride after a while. Well, only if they hadn’t pestered him with too much physical contact in one day. One too many hugs? He’d put a palm to their face and lightly shove them away, not using any real strength to hurt them. Only enough to send the message that he’s all hugged out.

Of course, if he noticed he’d been neglecting their love language of touch, he’d concede, but in his own way. Loungin on the couch with them, he may glance down and notice their hands resting in their lap as they focus on the television. His gaze would drift up to the side of their face, watching their expression closely before taking their hand in his and putting it in his lap instead, lightly stroking the back of their hand with his thumb.

Katsuki can be a hardass sometimes. Most of the time. But he’s incredibly perceptive of people, especially those he holds close to his heart. So of course he’d do what he can to make them feel comfortable around him all while keeping himself comfortable and preserving his own boundaries.

————————————————————

[ohbo-ohno]

You ever think about Soaps mohawk getting too untidy (because it can't get too long, the longer it is the better Simon can grab it and throw Johnny around with) and Simon taking him to the hair dresser? Only it's not a hair dresser but a dog beauty lounge? And the owners are not specialized on humans and they weren't expecting a human. But no one says no to Ghost so they proceed and Johnny gets a complete wash and everything. He looks really pretty after but he was so humiliated by it that he goes into the crate voluntarily to curl up and cry once they are back on base. Doesn't help that people keep commenting on how much better it looks and are asking about the address for the hair dresser.

Also, just speaking for myself here, I adore seeing people become an insane rambling mess about the things they are insane about. Doesn't even need a red string or context. So if you ever put your thoughts on Clicker training Soap online, there would be at least one avid reader just begging for those crumbs.

you just GET ME oh my god. im always torn between two soap's - soap who is so freaky and kinky that he would let ghost do literally anything to him and enjoy it, and soap is only does what ghost tells him because he's got a massive crush but he's absolutely humiliated and upset during all of it. the first feels more accurate to his character, the second is more fun to write lmao

wrote a quick drabble for this but i changed it so the groomers knew there was a person coming instead of a dog <3 it's extra humiliation if they treat johnny the same way ghost does

cw: noncon puppy play, referenced public humiliation (btw if you want more stuff in this little universe - one, two, three)

“You still poutin’?”

Johnny squeezes his eyes shut, just barely resists the urge to snap his teeth and growl. He knows that would only feed into Ghost’s goddamn delusion that he’s a fucking dog.

Jesus. His scalp still stings from the rough treatment of the barber- the groomer. The bastard had locked a muzzle over his face while Ghost held him down, and as much as he’d tried he hadn’t been able to speak through the damn thing. Speak or bite. 

He would’ve fought but… well, Ghost gave him that look before he left. That “if you don’t obey me, there’ll be hell to pay” look. And Ghost has only gotten meaner in the months they’ve been together now - the walks, the fucking house training… Soap doesn’t even want to think of what he might try next.

So Ghost had given him a look, grabbed him by the chin and said “Be good, pup. You’ll get a treat if you can behave, alright? Don’t embarrass me.” and Johnny hadn’t been brave enough to ignore him.

Fuck. Even now, it doesn’t quite feel real. His breath hitches as he remembers the strict gloves Ghost had given him to wear, how they don’t let him do anything with his fingers because they’re held so tight. He still wears them now, and the forced paw shape of his hand keeps his head fuzzy.

He wants to whine. He almost wants to cry. Mostly he wants to bite Ghost until the bastard bleeds.

“C’mon,” Ghost grunts, taking one hand from the wheel and patting Johnny roughly on the head. He combs his fingers through the freshly cut mohawk, almost fixing it so it’s neater. “You look real good, pup. Needed to get your bitch strap straightened up for a while now.”

“Don’t-” Johnny takes a deep breath, opens his eyes and blinks down at his hands - his hands, not his paws - where they rest in his lap. “Don’t call it that.”

He thinks for a minute that Simon’s going to say something worse, lock his hand in Johnny’s hair and tug until he whines, shove him down to his cock, do something. But his hand stays soft, stroking down and tightly gripping the back of his neck. Not suffocating, not mean, almost… secure. Comforting. A weight that says relax, I’m here. 

“Alright, puppy. Been a tough day for you, huh? We can pretend you’re a person, think of it as a treat for bein’ good at the groomers.”

Johnny whines, curling into himself at his own sound. His hands are sweaty in the gloves, and he wants to dig his nails into his thighs, hope that the little pinpricks of pain wake him up enough to tear Ghost a new asshole. 

But he can’t do that. His fingers are stuck folded in half, totally useless. So he takes a deep breath, and tries not to fully float away.

Eventually the car slows to a stop, and Ghost tugs the key out of the ignition. They sit in silence for a moment, and Soap can feel Ghost staring at the side of his head, but he refuses to look. He doesn’t want to look at Ghost right now, doesn’t want to see his expression.

“Alright,” Simon says quietly, giving Johnny’s nape a tight squeeze before letting you go. “I think you need a nap, pup. Let’s get you inside.”

Ghost gets out, Soap doesn’t. He stays in his seat, staring at his hands, until the door opens next to him and Simon reaches over his body to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“C’mon now, out.”

Johnny doesn’t move. He feels Ghost’s massive hand wrap around his elbow, tug him toward the door, but he leans his weight the other direction.

He doesn’t want to get out of the car. He knows, logically, that no one on base will be able to tell what happened, where Simon took him. But he’ll know, and that’s enough shame to make him never want to leave the car.

Ghost sighs, annoyed, from beside him. “You rather I get your leash?”

Johnny flinches, and he lets himself be tugged by the elbow at the next pull on his arm. His eyes never lift past Ghost’s chest as he keeps his head ducked, heat coloring his cheeks when the door closes behind him.

“Johnny,” Ghost says quietly, hand nudging his head up. “Head up, pup. You look real pretty, don’t you want to show off?”

Johnny flinches, but he lifts his head like Ghost urges. He’s scared of what he’ll see in Simon’s eyes - that gleam he gets when Johnny’s particularly humiliated is always hard to swallow - but all he sees is… is pride.

God, it’s getting hard to breathe. Every breath feels punched out of him, every breath in like glass in his lungs. 

“There you are.” Ghost chucks him under the chin, jerking his head up a little further. “Pretty thing. Certainly got my money’s worth.”

Johnny’s only comfort is that his eyes are dry - well, that and the warmth of Ghost’s hand. No matter how angry he is at the bastard, he can’t help but always want more of his touch.

“Inside now. Come.”

The sharp tone, the one word command, goes right over Johnny’s head. He follows Ghost - on his right, one step behind, like he’d been taught (trained) - and keeps his eyes forward, not looking at anyone else on base.

The halls are busy, like they always are during the day, but Soap doesn’t let himself be distracted. He keeps his eyes forward, and only focuses on Ghost.

He tells himself no one else knows, that no one else could possibly know.

“Hey, Soap!” Gaz calls out, leaning out of a meeting room and waving at him. “Looking sharp, mate!”

Johnny’s heart feels like it’s about the beat out of his chest. He wants to scream. He wants to puke.

He looks up at Ghost where the other man has turned around, raising an eyebrow at where he’s stopped in the middle of the hallway.

Johnny opens his mouth to speak, but only manages a quiet whine. Thankfully it’s too loud for anyone else in the hallway to hear (hopefully), but his cheeks still flush red at the animal sound.

Ghost only smirks and turns around to keep walking.

“Heel, Johnny. Don’t wander, you can sniff all you want later.”

Johnny takes a deep breath, and he follows Ghost.

It only takes a few more minutes for them to make it to Ghost’s room, and Johnny feels near collapse.

He’s… frustrated with himself. He’s got no idea why he’s so affected by what happened, why it feels so impossible to get past. Ghost has done worse to him, made him do worse. 

But something about the way the groomer had looked at him… a complete stranger, looking at him and treating him the same way Ghost does. He knows that if Ghost had left, he would’ve sunk into a panic attack. He knows it’s Simon’s own twisted version of mercy, not leaving him alone.

The relief he feels when the door closes behind him nearly sends him to his knees. Ghost’s heavy hand on his shoulder does.

He doesn’t even have it in him to be upset at Ghost’s presumption. He feels better on his knees these days, anyway.

“To your crate, puppy, go on.”

He listens, crawling to the quilt-covered crate in the corner of the room. Neither of them speak as Ghost opens the door, the only sound a soft hum when Johnny crawls in.

“Gimme your paw, pup. Don’t want you sleeping in those gloves.”

Johnny whines, but listens, and gives Ghost his paw to take the gloves off. He instantly feels better, and makes a soft sound that he hopes is thankful as he stretches his fingers out, laying them flat against the blankets.

“There ya go,” Ghost hums, closing the door and laying the quilt over all but the front of the crate. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours, alright pup? Don’t want you to miss your walk.”

Johnny shudders as Ghost walks away, and closes his eyes tight. He tries to wipe all memories of the day away, focusing instead on the better times with Ghost.

Eventually he drifts off to thoughts of laying together while watching a football game, shared meals in loud pubs, quiet nights in after hard missions. He thinks of Ghost, strong and solid and unfaltering, and he sinks into sleep.

[thedeb]

Hello there dear Undertale au fandom

This will be a bit of a rant but I'm going to talk about my reasons for taking a break and hopefully be able to quit and also talking about the fandom.

First of all, I'm very aware the fandom would not give one or two flying poops about me since I'm a small account but I still wanted to make this.

The reasons why I'm quitting and the talk about the fandom will be mixed so

The reasons I'm quitting are because I realised I'm never going to get anywhere in the Fandom I did everything anyone could name and nothing worked 2-the fandom makes me overly uncomfortable and I don't know why 3-its taking a terrible toll on my mental health, I have been fixated on the fandom for years and it's just ruining me.

Also, the fandom is just insane not in a good way, MOST not all of the fans are selfish and refuse to go outside to see that other people are alive as well and it's not just only them, they feel entitled to everything and they cross boundaries daily and are just mostly straight up rude, despite the fandom being a pretty good size the people littery have 0 urges to communicate with other fans I have been literally begging for friends in the Fandom but only ended up getting 2 in the span YEARS and I understand why people don't want to blindly make friends but also the fandoms NOT friendly at all I'm general, especially towards small accounts you barely get any support and even if you do it's a tiny group of people, i feel like they absolutely despise small accounts for 0 reasons and they literally do nothing to help you on your journey and also try to claim that their good people and love to help and painting a picture where their all a Saint in which is not true.

More info about me: you guys need to keep in mind that I have terrible depression and I struggle with being neurodivergent there's 0 way for me to get diagnosed in the country to know what I exactly have that's under the umbrella In the country i live in and it's impossible to get any help, all therapists will do is try to shove some pills down your throat, but me being in this state still doesn't change the fact the undertale au fandom is setting itself up for failure.

Also, another thing I should mention is the fandom has normalized a lot of things that should NOT&nbsp; be normalized, this goes for a lot of fandoms in the end however au fandom isn't the only one I want to say there are a lot of things I want to quit like drawing, I love drawing but I can't handle it anymore.

I want to get rid of my fixation on the characters that's why I'm only going on a break for now in hopes I can get myself to stop making my mental health suffer because of a stupid fixation, I hope I can quit drawing and the fandoms I'm in, I'm just tired of people not understanding not everyone's rainbows and sunshine or just "silly" I'm not silly IM MENTALLY ILL and I'm tired of being labelled as silly by people online for being terribly depressed or just struggling with being neurodivergent.

That's all.

Hope this will be one of the last drawings I do.

[soldat-buck]

HELLO, just fyi I'm a little less into Bucky and a LOT more into Astarion now

idk if I'm going to change the name/theme of this blog, or post on main, or just leave everything as is and send confusing messages with every post on this blog. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

also i've been through some REAL SHIT over the last two years. my mental health is absolutely not the same. i am not the same person any of you have known. I knew moving in with MIL to the shitass state of North Carolina would be difficult, we had the chance to escape right at the end, but like Orpheus, I looked back at Eurydice and now i have been trapped in Southern Passive Aggressive hell.

on the bright side, my mil is insane and makes herself suffer too. on the unbright side, no matter how small i make myself, she's getting worse (and more scared of me???? i do not understand). she's started up with "praying all night that you'll start going to church and never drink alcohol again" type bullshit

my car got totaled at the end of November and my dear brother bought me Baldur's Gate 3 as a get well soon present. I cannot fully express how much this game has saved me - this stupid obsession over a gd vampire elf is honestly one of the few reasons i wake up in the morning. playing the game and keeping the stabbing urges to virtual people, writing dumb little scenes because I can hear Astarion snark stupid shit or picture him dealing with some ridiculous scenario or another - sounds unhinged, but it's been keeping me going.

i'm not really allowed to exist in the house i'm alive in (saying i'm "living" here makes it sound like i have free, unadulterated access to things like "cooking utensils", "work/craft spaces", "a flushing toilet and running water", "using the tv for gaming instead of watching tv", "using any of living spaces to live, instead of empty space to look at", "my cats"). i'm not quite at the end of my rope yet, but gods DAMN, in a way i feel feral. done with this. done with the next person who wants to control and micromanage me. numb. i want to bite someone.

i had a biopsy the other week with zero pain management (no ibprophen or anything). i didn't flinch because i just didn't care about the pain. i'm so shut down from stress that hunger pains mean nothing to me. it's just a sensation that happens sometimes. being reached into and having pieces literally plucked out of my body? eh, that's a thing that happened. get into a car wreck with huge Crayola marker purple bruises? i walked away with little problem.

*deep inhale*

anyway, ALL THAT aside, i'm really into Astarion now

i think it's equal parts "crush" and "intense gender envy", tho it might be swinging a bit harder into the envy part.

[jenngerbread13]

Villain Valentine Day 7 - Do Bad Things To Me

Making their way to their room in the Pendants, Kerina’s head spun and thoughts raced as they had just done something absolutely insane. To even continue it. To urge him onwards. Letting him so far into their head with such a palpable pull between them that even they couldn’t deny its existence. Heart pounding in their chest, they closed the door to their room, white-knuckles and shaking fingers gripping the doorframe like a lifeline to help them calm down. They swore, knowing that they’d never forget that moment and yet it felt like a memory being brought up over again and again from their past. His hunger felt so familiar, the thinly-veiled want within him. Something they instinctively knew could only be awakened by very few, of him giving in to his base wants and desires. Their own body and very soul reciprocated that same hunger, wanting him with an intensity they weren’t used to.

I’m going crazy. This is all just mental manipulation and I’m being driven mad by the light, the curse, and by him. He’s nothing more than an enemy I want to know the motives of. Nothing more. They tried to rationalize the sudden intense feelings and why now, they found themselves drawn towards the enemy. Towards him. 

You say that and yet you know you joked around with the BBTC that if you had known Gaius looked and sounded like that under the armor, you might have been persuaded to join their side back in the Praetorium. Their second voice chimed in.

Oh, fuck off. Kerina thought back to themselves and flung their hat, coat, aetherotransformer, and pistol onto the bench before flopping  themselves down onto their bed. Clawing at a pillow, they shoved it under their face and screamed into it as loud as possible in frustration of all the overwhelming feelings.

“Tsk. if I knew that’s all it took to get you screaming into a pillow, I would have kissed you sooner.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Kerina spat out into the pillow not bothering to lift their head or turn to face him.

Rolling his eyes, he sat down on the bed next to them, crossing his arms over his chest, staring down at their back “You know I’m not going anywhere.”

Turning their head to face away from him so they could at least breathe, they muttered out “What happened to you just observing?”

They could feel him shrug and shift his posture a bit to face them a bit more “Oh, make no mistake, I would have been content to observe your little group flail and flounder until finally we could continue with the rejoining. However, when it was clear you not only remembered your past but remembered me, I couldn’t help myself in being greedy. Surely you understand how finding a kindred soul in a sea of those who don’t understand you feels, Hero.”

Absently fixing their hair, not used to the length it had started to grow to, they continued to speak in a hushed tone “I’m not the type of lover you’re probably used to.” 

Rolling over to sit up and stand, they walked away from the bed, grasping their arms close to their chest, clearly nervous. He could see that but stayed where he sat, watching, knowing they were thinking about how to say what they wanted to say. She’d always had issues confessing her feelings and emotions. As much as things changed, she always stayed the same, even in this broken form. She would always be herself and no one else.

“Not to say I don’t have any experience,” Kerina continued, still standing, shifting from foot to foot in the middle of their room, “I’m so used to everyone thinking that because of this curse and what I’ve done, I’m good at everything I do. So many weird stares and proposals. I’ve not even had time to entertain casual romance for the most part let alone develop any skill in that area. I will admit it’s one area that I don’t have much of a clue of what I’m doing. Hells, I don’t even have anything that could even be remotely considered appealing insofar as clothing both outer or underwear.”

“You’re telling me with clearly how much care and pride you put into your appearance you have absolutely nothing in that dresser of yours that you’d look attractive in?” he scoffed, getting off the bed and wandering over to the dresser, starting to rummage through the drawers which opened up to reveal prisms showcasing tiny images of what lay inside “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Shaking their head they stood, watching him stand there at the dresser, pulling various prisms out, turning them this way and that before leaving five placed atop the dresser. “I understand that you are not of the typical pedestrian crowd when it comes to wanting to look attractive, by way of ‘the more you show, the more attractive you feel’. However, you are still quite attractive, My Dear Hero, and I think this would showcase that quite nicely still fitting within your stylistic tendencies.”

Hesitatingly, they walked over to the dresser, feeling him place a hand on their lower back as they looked over the prisms “Only if you want to, however. I shan’t ever force you into a decision on my account.”

Turning around they stared up at him, a smirk on his face and a look in his eyes that they could only attribute to affection. That slightest upturn in his cheeks, and the relaxation at the corner of his eyes and brows that gave it away. They placed a finger on his chest a few ilms below the large charm on his collar. “In that case, would you perhaps do me one teensy favor?”

“Oh?” His eyebrow arched, eyes still locked onto theirs, curiosity mixed with mischief as the muscles on the upper sides of his face tightened instinctively, betraying his thoughts.

“Since you know far more about it than I do, I’ll trust your judgment as well on perhaps securing me some… nicer undergarments?” They couldn’t stop the blush spreading across their face, turning their head downwards to hide their embarrassment at admitting something so intimate.

They felt him tugging at something behind them, and felt the warm soft flesh of his hand tilt their chin up to look at him, his face now mere ilms from theirs, his breath ghosting across their face as that same mischievous look still held. “As you wish, My Dear Hero. Do know that no matter what you wear, you will always be attractive.”

Eyes widening at the feel of his skin on theirs, his long, slender fingers spreading out to gently graze down their throat, teasing the chain of their necklace with his thumb. They knew he could feel them swallow their breath as they stood nearly motionless, gazing back up at him, paralyzed by the intensity of what they felt.

Barely breathing, their voice came out no louder than a whisper “Why do I have a feeling you want to do bad things to me?”

An absolutely ravenous feral grin crossed his face as he lowered his head, placing his lips so close to their neck they could feel with every slight movement how they grazed their skin. “Oh, My Dear Hero, you read me so well. I want to do absolutely, terrible, wicked, filthy things to you. I want to render from you every last mote of breath in your lungs as I make you cry out in ecstasy.” Grabbing them tightly around the waist, pulling them flush against him he heard them squeal in surprise as he continued “Leave every single bit of your fragile existence etched with me seared into its memory.”

Just as quickly as he had descended on them, he released them, raised his right hand and snapped, as lacy fabric descended from the air onto their bed. “A precaution, My Dear Hero, only wear that should you want to signal to me that you accept my offer. I of course will give you time to think it over. Take care.” 

Quickly putting his leather glove back on, he opened up a portal, leaving with his signature wave, while Kerina stood there, grasping at the dresser to steady themselves and breathing heavily. How dare he. How could he just get past their defenses so easily and leave them weak and breathless. Leave them stuttering for words as if they weren’t strong. Defiant. In control. They placed their own hand on their neck, remembering the ghost of his own. Finally someone willing to meet them on their level. Above their level. Willing to challenge them and show them how to break past their self-imposed limits.

Taking large, steady breaths of air, holding, releasing, and holding again in a pattern of eight, eventually they straightened up and released their hold on the glamour dresser. Smiling, they placed the five prisms into a plate and had the mechanism inside the dresser save it. Looking over to the bed, they blushed, still embarrassed that they had asked him for such things. Still, the lace was gorgeous and well made as they brushed their fingers over it, picking it up. They appreciated that he gave them space to get into the right headspace, to make sure that this decision was theirs and theirs alone. Carefully folding it up and placing it in the back of a drawer, they smiled. He truly did see and understand them. He really did care.

[everydayofmystruggle]

5th March 2023

Thought i'd actually start documenting everything related to my food habits. I have some stuff I have written since it started. Maybe one day i'll add them here. Maybe not.

My relationship with eating and food is currently at the worst it has ever been. Writing it all out is a kind of therapy for me. Maybe it will actually help me, or even someone else someday. I do hope so.

I'm such a private person, maybe too much so sometimes. The thought of anyone finding out that I am struggling so much is my worse fear. I don't really know why I'm so emotionally inept, and so fear letting anyone see my feelings. That's a whole other therapy topic for another day. Now onto my eating.

I don't like the phrase 'Eating Disorder'; I can't imagine anybody does. But if I'm being totally honest with myself, in the past month, my poor relationship with food has definitely developed into one. It seems to be a mixture of many; either that or I just haven't settled into one or another yet.

For as long as I can remember, i've wanted to lose weight. Honestly, years. At least a decade, maybe longer. I've always been average- never truly overweight, but big enough to never be considered thin, or to be comfortable in my own skin. I've always had flab and fat, body parts i've wanted to change. I've gone through many diets through the years- the classic cutting foods, restricting, exercising lots etc. They've never really worked. And by this I mean I have never stuck to any of them long enough to notice a difference.

This is where my relationship with food comes in- I love it. Or, well, I did. I feel that because I have always enjoyed food, my periods of dieting/ restricting just crash and burn with a binge when I realise I can't resist for long. I don't think I ever had BED per se, but it definitely seemed like an abnormal, not so good way of eating.

This cycle has gone on for years- with myself never really being able to resist a binge, never strong enough to not give in to urges or cravings.

In the past, I had thought about all this, but not really enough. I have always been aware of EDs- I'm aware that the type of person I am means I research anything and everything. Bulimia for example, I had considered, if that's the best way to phrase it. I'm pretty sure there were a couple of times in the past I had given a half-hearted attempt to purge, but never bothered to actually do it.

Until last year, I had almost a phobia of throwing up.I hated it. Even the thought of it gave me such anxiety. Hah. To think where I am at now compared to even a year ago is insane.

So, past attempts at puring after a binge were always half-assed as I could never actually bring myself to throw up, and just felt gross. This all changed this year while I was away abroad. I can't pinpoint exactly when or how it happened, but something in me changed.

I spent a chunk of time travelling abroad, and I absolutely loved it and want to go back. I spent Christmas and the New Year with new friends, and was eating without thinking about any of it. We were eating big full meals, I was going out my way to eat ice cream, or extra slices of pizza for lunch. Just generally having a good time and enjoying my food. Sometime after that it must have clicked that I needed to lose a bit of weight, and should probably start watching what I was eating a bit more. I think a big part of it was knowing a friend from home was meeting me out there in a few weeks, and I didn't want to be fat with her.

I remember consciously chosing to not get ice cream a couple times, and trying to not each big lunches. As soon as I was back to travelling alone again, I started to eat less. I'd eat cup-a-soups, Granny Smith Apples, Ritz Crackers and cheese slices. These became my staple travelling foods. After eating like this for just a couple of weeks, I noticed that I was actually losing a bit of weight. This gave me a massive confidence boost, as well as motivation to keep going.

I stayed eating this way up until I met up with my friend, and we spent three days on an island with all our meals prepared for us. Already here after just a few weeks, I was worrying about eating. I remember thinking about the food situation the whole time.

Afterwards, I was planning to get straight back to my cup-a-soup diet. The turning point came when I spent one night at a hotel airport before travelling to another area. I had no time to shop for food and so ordered a Pizza Hut. I think even when ordering I was already starting to consider trying to purge afterwards, but wasn't 100% convinced i'd be able to. But after eating it all- a pizza and bolognese pasta bake, and feeling the post-binge cringe, I said to myself I would sit by that toilet for as long as it took to get it back up. And that was exactly what I did. It was gruelling; it took absolutely ages, it made me sweat, cry and cough a ridiculous amount. But it was the first time i had ever been able to make myself throw up, and it felt like an acheivement.

It was like a switch had been flicked. A new possibilty had been unlocked. I now knew I had the ability to get rid of a load of food after eating. Now, I'm not foolish, not completely anyway. I knew this was a dangerous game to play, and knew I should set some ground rules to myself there and then. I told myself this was to be a last resort option, for when eating a lot was unavoidable. But even while thinking this, I was also mentally planning how I could practice and get faster and quieter. I was treating purging like a new skill to be improved upon.

It's silly. I know how dangerous making yourself throw up is, both short and long-term. But instead of trying to stop, I found myself googling mitigation methods. How to lessen tooth damage from stomach acid, and what foods are the easiest to get back up. Yikes.

Anyway. After that first night, I went back to my Ritz and cup-a-soup diet again for the next few weeks. The next time I purged again was completely intentional. I was craving a McDonald's burger, and so rationalised in my head that I could eat it then throw it back up. It would satisfy my craving, and serve as practice for my technique. So i did just that, munching on some extra chocolate for good measure.

I think the first time I really reflected on my new view of food was on my flight home again. I was given two full on meals, and felt like I had to eat them, so I did. Then tried a few times to purge it up in the plane toilets. I think I got some up, but the small space and the anxiety of someone hearing got the bette of me and I gave up. Looking back, that was a low point. Squatting in the toilet of a plane, trying desperately to vomit up cauliflower soup while hoping no one was outsidee the door and could hear me.

Since properly being back home, it's gone from bad to worse. The first few times I purged again was after unavoidable eating- meeting friends for dinner a couple of times etc.

I have still been restricting, but in my own home with access to food it's easy to get tempted. I think while I was away and busy all the time, I was more distracted from eating. I want to get back in that frame of mind, where food and eating doesn't take up so many of my thoughts.

This past week has been particularly bad. From Saturday to Friday, I purged every single day. It started when a friend stayed at mine Saturday night, and we ate out lots. Being re-introduced to food like that again has messed me up. I'm now having cravings again and I hate it. I hate wanting food.

I threw up in a Nando's toilet one evening, and then later in Krispy Kreme. I'm not even ashamed. The whole time while eating the meal, I was planning my trip to go purge. I was intentionally drinking lots of water while eating. The same goes for the following day when we ordered food to the house.

As for the rest of the week, I can't even remember why I purged most of the days. I think first when I snacked a little too much of an evening. One of the days I was craving pizza, so ordered Pizza Hut with the intention of purging after. This sort of stuff is what makes me wonder if i'm more bulimic or anorexic. I guess it doesn't really matter.

When the pizza arrived, I decided to try chewing and spitting the food, and then purging the little amount I did eat. I can't lie, C/S did satisfy my craving nicely. It's just hard to say how much food I actually took in from it. I have managed to overcome a few cravings since then, to which I am quite proud, as I was hungover and could have easily given in and ordered food.

Oh, after a night out on Friday, the first thing I did when I got in to my hotel room was try to throw up as much as I could. It's mad that even when I was that drunk, it was still at the front of my mind.

Today I threw up again. For stupid reasons. All I had eaten was soup and some side bits, but I wanted a Belvita, and somewhere in my head I could only justify it by purging first. I'm going to try and stop doing it this frequently, beacasue it really will be a one-way ticket to every nasty side effect. I just need to work on my cravings and binges. Maybe I need to rid my house of any foods like that. I dunno.

My number one fear is definitely anyone finding out about any of this. I am forever lying about eating or what I have eaten. I laugh at jokes about eating disorders as if there's no way I have one. I am a good liar, am good at hiding things, so I don't doubt that I will successfully hide this from people.

I guess i'll keep writing this all down for as long as necessary. Currently, I have no intention of gaining a normal eating habit. Maybe it's bad, but I don't really care. I'm losing weight and I love it. I weigh around 63kg at the moment. I can see and feel where I am starting to look slimmer and I love it. This is why I don't really try to stop, and why everything revolves around eating less. I do want to not purge as much as I know how bad it is. I'd rather focus on restricting than bingeing or purging.

I like to think I have some control, but it's been a month and I already feel it slipping. Maybe writing this down is the first step to reclaiming some.

I like to think that one day, I will be happy both happy with my body and not focused on food/ eating so much. I hope the time comes, beacause as much as I am focusing on this to lose weight and lool the way I want, it is exhausting. It's all- consuming, and a constant battle. It's a battle I am happy to be in right now, but I hope to not always be in it.

<3

[dsk0fx]

My thoughts feel very all over the place and our of control right now I have too much in mt.head and it is confusing I feel angry at so many insignificant things. My head is spinning. I've never been this fucking dysphoric before I feel so shit in and about myself I'm an absolute fucking wreck I've put on so much weight I feel so awful about mysekr even though I know I am healthier now I can't look at myself in a mirror inhate my apperance I hate my hair I hate the fact I feel like I don't have a personality or any sense of self I don't know what I like or how I want to look or dress and I hate it my dysphoria is killing me I'm constantly paranoid about my period starting again I cannot be calm I need to change something about myself binding is killing me it hurts so bad ans icant regulate my temperature and I feel like my T isn't doing jack shit the gender clinic are being fuckin useless I need top surgery ans hysto I feel so out of control of everything I hate it so much I need my chest to be flat I need to pass I need my hair to be good I need to be clean I need to be clean I am not clean I need to be clean I am not taking care of myself at all ans like.i am getting so angry irrationally and protective over how Jakes been treated bad in the past it makes me irate I want to hurt anyone that has ever made him feel any bad feeling I feel so possessive n protective over him lately he is mine and only mine and the fact it's not always been that way is infuriating to me rn. Idk if it's bc he's been sick n I've gone into over protective mode or what but idk. I feel so out of control I duxking hate this I think I need to go back on my meds but I'm not sure. I don't even know who I am anymore any sense of identity is slipping away from me because I try to shove myself into boxes but I don't fit into one certain subculture n it's killing me even tho I know it's literally no big deal but I feel like if I don't I'll get judged and have to be a certain way so I feel like I have no personality of my own and don't know what ahy of my own interests of likes are because I just moulf to people around me and I need to stop smoking but I can't but im almost out of baccy

but it's the only thing making my head shut up and feel calm right now and I literally feel.like I cannot function I am so overwhelmed by everything right now I hate it so much I feel like.im.never seeing Jake right now eieher because he's at work so much and burnt out and I miss him I miss him I don't feel good at all I feel like I am going insane and I want it to stop I've been having really bad sh urges and I've been able to not so far but I'm scared but I've been drinking again and I'm trying to stop because I don't want to get dependent on drigs or alcohol again but addiction is wireed into me because of how severe my fucking ADHD is I can't help it and I need to not but my gp won't give me any of my meds and adult services arnwt willing to help or do shit until I'm 25 bx of my auriam and I dont know what's going on with the gender clinic or Mt t ans I'm so stressed everything feels too much right now my head won't stop it won't be quiet I hate it I cand motivate myself to do anything I'm a failure and a let down and not good at anything and don't even know why I am still here I cabr work im so mentally fucked in the head I can't even get a job I am useless and worthless and my.life feels hoplwss like I'm never going to do ajytbing with it I hate my head I hate my brain I hate myself I have every single little thing about myself I do not feel like a person I feel so far dissociated and depersonalized and derealizeed I feel like a feral animal trapped in a cage scratching and clawinh trying to escape until my skin is raw and I am bleeding I want to rip mt.skin off I donf feel human I am not okay please somebody bwlp me I don't want to wakw Jake up I don't feel okay I don't feel okay I don't feel okay I hate this I just want it to stop I just want to feel okay I want to feel like an actual human being and not an angry terrified animal

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 9

Fun fact: when I was like eight I got an ultrasound done on my chest because of some non-descript heart anomaly. Got to miss a day of school and everything. 

Anyway, on the day of cult girl’s twenty week anatomy scan, Hannibal has second thoughts about putting the baby up for adoption.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: pregnancy and lactation, medical examination

It was a small victory, but a much-needed one.

You kept in close touch with Max and Archie over the next few, crucial weeks. Before you knew it, your first trimester ended. You tried your best to push all worries about your rapidly changing body aside, in favor of your studies. To a point, it worked. You cranked out a few research papers and kept up on your reading, but not as efficiently as you may have wanted. Your body was operating at 100% all the time and you felt like an overheated laptop with the fan running at top speed.

The morning of your twenty-week checkup arrived far quicker than you hoped. You were noticeably pregnant, having put on a good ten extra pounds to support your passenger.

Your phone alarm sounded, telling you to greet the day. You'd been in and out of an uncomfortable state of half-consciousness all night.

"Good morning, my goddess." Hannibal cooed in his admittedly very sexy morning voice. He turned on his side and faced you.

Seeing him with bedhead was definitely the best part of waking up. But the delight quickly faded when you tried to turn on your side and realized you couldn't. You plopped back onto your back, seriously considering if any amount of money was worth this.

"Don't patronize me." You pouted, folding your arms.

"Patronize you?" He chuckled, pulling you into him. "Now why on earth would I do that?"

He cupped your head in his hand and stroked your cheek. "The most divine woman in the world is carrying my baby."

Before you could say anything, he brought his lips to yours. His other hand ran down your body, tracing the outline of your firm, round belly.

"And what an honor-" He whispered, weaving his fingers through your hair. "To have Venus herself descend from Olympia to carry my child."

You didn't want to unpack what he was saying. All you knew was you liked it. Your aches seemed to melt away under his touch and your worries dissipated with every word.

"My breasts are so swollen and heavy." You complained. "And they ache so much."

"Is that so?" Hannibal smiled hungrily and propped himself up on his elbows above you. "Well, what is to be done about that, Mrs. Lecter?"

You unbuttoned your pajama shirt, revealing your significantly larger breasts. You blushed and instinctively covered yourself.

Hannibal chuckled and effortlessly pulled your hands off your chest. He lowered his face to where your neck meets your shoulder and took a deep breath in. A pair of warm, gentle hands cupped your breasts.

"You're starting to produce." He observed, a little smile creeping on his face.

Before you could really register what he meant by that, his thumb began to stimulate your swollen nipple. A small drop of milk leaked out, dampening his finger. All you could do was turn red and whimper in embarrassment.

He brought his finger to his lips and tasted it.

"It's a bit thin, but my goodness, it's sweet." He said, as nonchalantly as if he were sampling ice cream.

"Only the best for our baby." You said.

That caught him off guard in the best way. Whether you were playing along or feeling genuinely maternal, he didn't care. He wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to gratify his crippling desire to feel like a father.

"Fuck, [F/N]." He cursed, looking at your protruding belly with awe. Not awe, but worship.

He cleared his throat, chasing away any strong emotions he may have let reveal themselves. "Never mind. Let's get ready to go to the doctor."

You swung your legs over the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing, my darling." Hannibal said, lying professionally. "Everything is wonderful."

You push yourself to your feet and follow him into the bathroom. "Hannibal, please."

He turned around and leaned against the sink. "It's nothing that concerns you, love. Don't worry about it."

You folded your arms. "You don’t need to be a doctoral candidate to recognize deflection."

"So you don't." Hannibal said. "Darling, please understand that I have your best interests at heart. Even if it is at the expense of my desires."

"I see what this is." You nodded. "You want to keep the baby, don't you?"

"I didn't know how much I wanted a child until now." He admitted.

"But you know the emotional and physical toll it'll take on me." You finished.

"I don't know, actually." He corrected, face contorting with frustration. "Thus the basis of my hesitation. There are so many facets of life that can be molded to one's liking, but parenting-"

"I get it." You sighed. "So many things could go wrong, or right, and either way it would throw me off track."

"If I could relieve you of all of the burden of parenting this child, allowing you to step away and finish your schooling unfettered with domestic duties, I would." He said. "But if we're being honest, it's not like you would let me."

"Ruth Bader Ginsburg studied law at Harvard while taking care of a baby." You offered. "And her sick husband."

"I have no doubts in my mind that it is possible, nor that you're capable, darling." He assured you. "But I would never forgive myself if I let you burn yourself out before you even get a chance to take off."

"Okay, look." You took a deep breath. "Let's see what the obstetrician says, assess the risks, weigh the pros and cons and talk to Max and Archie. We will figure this out."

You were counting on the assumption that going for your twenty-week checkup would scare you out of any desires to keep the baby. They often did. The more time you spent with an ultrasound wand in your vagina, the more you became convinced that you'd become implanted with an alien parasite determined to destroy you from the inside.

"Good morning, Dr. And Mrs. Lecter." The obstetrician greeted you as she always did. You hadn't bothered to correct her to save yourself an awkward conversation. "Here for our twenty-week ultrasound, are we?"

"No, I'm here for the taco truck in the parking lot." You said, half-jokingly. The other half was thinking about tacos. "I just thought I'd lay down on this surgical table for fun."

"Good to see you're still hanging on to your sense of humor, [F/N]." She smirked. "Should we take a look under the hood?"

You fought the overwhelming urge to smack your belly like a car salesmen and say "this bad boy can fit so many fetuses in it". But given that there was only one fetus, that would be inaccurate.

The doctor emptied a tube of extra-freezing gel onto your stomach and readied the ultrasound wand. "Have you been feeling any kicks, Mrs. Lecter?"

You shrugged. "Maybe? I wouldn't know what that would feel like so I don't know."

She smiled warmly. "Trust me, you'll know. But don't worry about it. First pregnancies tend to take their time. When you have your next children, it will happen much faster."

"I think you mean," Hannibal said, voice hardening. "If she decides to have more children. Let's not be presumptuous."

The doctor noticed her mistake. "My apologies, Mrs. Lecter. I didn't mean to assume."

You kept your eyes on Hannibal, too afraid to look at the screen as the doctor searched around for a clear image. 

“Oh my goodness, here it is!” She exclaimed with an ear-to-ear grin. 

It took you a minute to make out exactly what she was pointing to. It looked more like a fucked-up Rorschach test than anything resembling a person. You didn't want to say it out loud, but she sensed your confusion.

"This big round part is the head." She said, pointing to the opposite end of the screen. "There's its spine, and there are its little hands and feet."

It hit you all at once. There was a person growing inside of you. And it had limbs, bones and a brain. You finally had the answer to the question "how did something come from nothing". It was right there in front of you.

"Wow." You said, dumbfounded. "My body made that?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" The doctor smiled, clearly still as enamored with her job as she was on day one.

"And it made that without my brain even thinking about it." You continued, trying not to go into a ramble. "That's actually pretty insane."

"I told you that you're a goddess." Hannibal whispered into your ear. "My divine feminine."

"Would you like to know the sex?" She asked. 

“Sure.” You said, without really thinking about it. You looked back at Hannibal, who seemed pretty indifferent too. 

“Congratulations, you’re having a girl.” 

[weasleydream]

One step from happiness

Hi guys! How are you all? 

Here is the very first Harry x reader I’ve written, and I absolutely don’t know what to think about this... If you could give me your opinion, it would be greatly appreciated! 

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

(gif not mine)

Never in his life had Harry thought that once the war would be over, the first place he would want to see would be Privet Drive. To everyone and especially to him, it seemed impossible that he could miss anything from the place he had hated with such vigour, yet as he was sitting outside what had been Hogwarts, his thoughts drifted to someone who hadn't crossed his mind in months, if not years. Y/N. She was a muggle, her parents lived a few houses away from the Dursleys. If they were the kind of people aunt Petunia loved the most, their daughter had been the only one who had been kind to him. He still remembered the day she had shown up at the door with a bag of candies and had announced she was here for him. She had refused to give Dudley anything and after this day, her parents had refused to let her see Harry again. 

But neither of them wanted to obey, and Y/N and Harry had kept seeing each other regularly until Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. From then, his mind had been too occupied and they hadn't had any contact since then. 

Maybe it was because all of this was finally over, maybe it was because he wanted something to make sure the young boy he had once been was still somewhere in this adult body, fact is that Harry wanted nothing more than to see Y/N once again. Even younger, she had always been able to ease his mind in a unique way, and her smile could make anyone's heart flutter. 

"What are we going to do now?" Asked Ron, making Harry slightly jump. "After some rest, of course. I can't wait to sleep in my room again."

"I'll go to Privet Drive."

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him in disbelief, their open mouth matching in a quite comical expression. While Ron was just incredulous, Hermione was looking like she suspected some kind of insanity, maybe some effect of all that had happened. 

"There's someone I want to see. An old friend." 

Ron smirked and elbowed him. 

"A lady, huh? And here I thought it was a living hell… You're a little liar, aren't you?"

Harry laughed with his friends, enjoying his light heart. It felt like he hadn't been able to laugh like this for years. Sitting here with his closest friends, watching the sun getting down, Harry felt a bubble of happiness forming in him. It had been a long and painful way, but Voldemort was dead and everything was okay. He was truly happy.

A strange feeling took over Harry as he arrived in front of the house he had once lived in. This house that, despite being the place he hated the most as a child, had protected him in a way even Hogwarts couldn't have given him. Animated by a deep curiosity, he approached the door and almost knocked. Almost. Something had caught his eyes, making him stop dead in his tracks. It was a feather. A long white feather with very tiny black spots which was on the floor just in front of the door. Harry knew this feather too well as he used to find dozens of these in his room. Slowly, as if to make sure it wouldn't fly away, Harry grabbed the feather and stuffed it in his bag. Now thinking of Hedwig, the heart heavy, Harry decided to step back and left the little alley leading to the door. A black car passed next to him before turning and leaving the neighbourhood. For a second, Harry wondered why he felt like he knew this car, but then he realized. It was Y/N's parents'. 

Harry walked toward her house, kinda afraid of how she could react. She had every right to be angry, after all he was the one who had stopped giving any sign of life. At the thought of her rejecting him, he suddenly felt his heart shattering and that almost stopped him dead in his tracks. But then he remembered he had just survived after fighting Voldemort, being rejected by a childhood friend wouldn’t kill him, right? 

The front of the house hadn’t changed in all these years. Of course, the appearance was the same as all the houses of Privet Drive, pretty, simple, well maintained, but even the flowers decorating the windowsills and the mat seemed to be the same ones that were here the first time Harry had showed up at this door. It was funny how he seemed as anxious now as he was this day, when Y/N had invited him for her birthday. 

A clear voice answered him only a second after he knocked. 

“I’m here!”

And she opened the door. She looked even more beautiful than the last time Harry had seen her. Her Y/H/C hair was tied in the same ponytail she had always worn and her famous necklace, where her name was written, was shining on her black sweater. Her Y/E/C were still so bright, and currently wide open. 

“Harry?”

“Hello, Y/N.” said Harry, waving before quickly scratching his head.

Y/N stayed still for another second before smiling broadly and grabbing his hand, practically pulling him inside. While Harry was mentally cursing himself for being so awkward, Y/N led him in the living-room which hadn’t changed either. 

“It’s been so long!” exclaimed Y/N. She seemed so happy to see him that it warmed Harry’s heart. “What were you up to? Oh Harry, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I’m sorry for having been missing for so long. I had… some important stuff to take care of.”

“Of course, you and your famous secrets.” she said before smiling again, yet less largely. 

“I’m sorry, really.” repeated Harry. “You would completely freak out if I told you, and I’m not the only one involved. It isn’t-”

“Up to you to decide whether you can tell me or not.” finished Y/N. “I know the song.” she added with a smile. “So, if what you’ve done these last years is highly classified stuff, can I ask you if you’ve been alright?”

It was the question Harry had feared the most. When he had decided he would come to see her, he knew one of the first things Y/N would want to know would be if he was okay. It had always been one of her biggest preoccupations, and even then Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the pain he was feeling deep down from her. For once, he wasn’t wrong: without being able to prevent it, he frowned and Y/N’s eyes immediately darken. She sat on the couch, patting the fabric next to her, and put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly. 

Her big eyes were on him, showing all her worries but not bothering Harry at all. In fact, he felt more confident than he had ever felt - or at least than he had felt the last two years - and he suddenly felt the urge to tell her everything. Y/N seemed to feel the internal battle he was fighting and she slowly lifted her hand, her fingers softly brushing against his cheek. 

“You’ve changed so much,” she murmured. “You’re a man now. The last time I’ve seen you, you didn’t seem that mature.”

“That’s because a lot has happened.”

Harry had put his hand on Y/N’s one and they stayed like this, looking each other in the eyes, both trying to process what was this tension between them and why it was so pleasant.

“You look sad.” she noticed, her voice filled with a sadness she was feeling because of her incredible compassion.

This is when, without really wanting it, Harry’s mind drifted off to the ones he had lost. His parents. Sirius. Lupin. Tonks. Fred. Hedwig. Dobby. Friends, family, dead because of all this war he had been embarked in. Sitting under Y/N’s gaze, he felt the tears invading his eyes and soon rolling down his cheeks. Y/N didn’t say anything nor did she remove her hand from his cheek. She just wrapped her second arm around him and rested her forehead against his. They stayed like this for a while, until Harry’s tears were dried off. Then Y/N spoke up, her sweet voice reaching straight to his heart. 

“Whatever happened, it’s over now. You can heal from your wounds. Everyone is constantly trying to find peace, Harry. You are not alone, and you’re only one step from happiness. Make peace with what’s haunting you and I swear you’ll feel better. I can help you, if you want.”

“How do you do this?” whispered Harry while his hand was losing itself in her hair. “Making me feel better, knowing that now everything is over. You’ve always known better than myself.”

“You wouldn’t be here if your important stuff wasn’t over, would you?” she smiled, and Harry felt the corner of his lips curling up. “As for how I can make you feel better, it’s just because you deserve it. You’ve always deserved it, Harry. The young boy as much as the adult, all I’ve ever wanted was you to be happy.”

“I feel like now I can be.”

“Now you can be.”

And in the same way it had felt natural to come back to Privet Drive after the war, it felt natural for Harry and Y/N to kiss. Maybe it was the step he needed, maybe now he would finally be happy. With Y/N in his arms, it certainly felt so. 

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ships: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong; wizard!yunho x demon!jongho, pirate!yeosang x mermaid!soojin x pirate!mingi (implied)

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, fantasy, humour, romance

author’s note: i can’t believe this is over omg?!?! im legit bawling my eyes out rn 😭😭 i hope you guys like the end of pirate kings because i poured my entire heart into it! 💖💖 also be on the lookout for take me home, aurora, one day at a time and promise references hehe 🌅 🌅 thank you for going on this journey across the seas with me!

warnings: some swearing, mentions of drowning & torture, bittersweet (?) ending

word count: 2.6k

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter twelve ☠️ spotify playlist

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

My genius plan was that I would become more powerful than Jongho himself. So powerful that he wouldn't even be capable of taking my soul. So powerful that he wouldn’t even dare to try. Little did I know that as I shared my idea with Seonghwa, a certain someone was conveniently listening. Little did I know how this giant mess I'd created will play out...

Once Seonghwa was reassured that I would be perfectly safe despite the deal I had made with Jongho, he left me to my own devices. No sooner had I teleported myself back to my lighthouse than Jongho appeared out of nowhere, visibly angry. But there was something else in his expression. Something I couldn't quite define. Not yet, at least.

"How much of it did you hear?" I asked, already prepared for the worst.

"All of it," Jongho scoffed.

"Regardless," I spoke confidently. "Even if you do know what I'm planning, you can't stop me. You already know how much potential I have. Or else, you wouldn't have agreed to this deal. I'm right, no?"

Jongho shook his head.

"Your silly little plan won't work, wizard."

"Really?" I smiled, because I knew my own abilities better than he did. I was absolutely certain I could beat him. "And why is that?" I inquired, out of curiosity. He didn't scare me. Just...intrigued me.

"Because I never intended to take your soul, you fool."

Now, that was something I didn't expect to hear.

Jongho had somehow managed to catch me unprepared.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You know why I'm stealing so many souls?" I was about to open my mouth but Jongho wasn't having it. "Ah-ah, just let me finish. I know what you think. I know what everyone thinks. But it's an act. Apparently, I was too good an actor and completely fooled everyone, didn't I? The reason I've been collecting souls is not because I want to be more powerful than the devil. It's because I don't have one myself."

"H-huh?" I whispered in confusion. "Jongho, I don't understand..."

He placed a finger on my lips and I felt compelled to just...listen. Hear him out.

"But ever since I met you, I've felt...different. Like I could be more than just a demon making deals. Like I could matter."

I was too shocked to say anything so I just stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. And then he continued:

"What good would taking your soul do when you're the very reason I might be growing a soul in the first place?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I had to make sure.

"I know it's fucking insane and you’re supposed to be my sworn enemy or whatever but—"

This time, I couldn't let him finish his sentence and interrupted him with my lips on his. To my absolute dismay, he was kissing me back with as much vigour as I was. As much vigour as he put into challenging me and getting on my nerves and frustrating the living hell out of me. As much vigour as I knew only he was capable of.

"I thought this was impossible," I mumbled against his lips once I broke away from the kiss.

"So did I. But do you want me to tell you how I know it's real?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else.

"Because when you look at me, I no longer feel the urge to torture you for eternity."

"I should feel flattered, I suppose," I joked.

"It's up to you how you feel, wizard," Jongho replied. "And up to me to continue making you feel this way."

"The terrifying Jongho — a hopeless romantic. Who would have thought?" I teased him relentlessly.

"It's not too late for me to change my mind and snatch your soul."

"You greedy little thing. My heart isn't good enough for you?"

"Your heart?" Jongho chuckled and wrapped his arms around my neck. "It's mine now."

☠️☠️☠️

Yeosang's POV

The more time I spent around Mingi, the more I could see how much he'd changed for the better. And how much he was about to continue changing. Despite everything that had gone down in the past, I was feeling incomprehensibly drawn to him. And I wanted to be there for him. I knew that it would take some time for the rest of the crew to get used to Mingi being out of his cell. But I was determined to give him a chance. And convince the rest of them, it was a chance worth taking. Especially my dear Soojin...

"Sangie, he literally kidnapped us and left us without water for a week!" she reasoned.

"I know. I'm not making any excuses for—"

"And he cut off your hand! Your hand, Yeosang!" she reminded me needlessly. As if I could forget.

"Like I said, I'm not going to justify Mingi's actions. All I'm asking is that you give him another chance. He's been showing remorse. And I truly believe that if the circumstances had been different, he wouldn't have behaved the way that he did."

Soojin sighed, unsure of what to say.

"People aren't born evil," I insisted. "Everyone makes choices. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. What matters is what we do to fix the bad ones."

"Yeosang...I really want to do as you say, but it just sounds so difficult, okay?"

"I'm literally a pirate, sweetheart," I rolled my eyes. "If you don't hold it against me, I don't see a problem. Mingi's not exactly the villain he's painted himself to be."

Soojin nodded thoughtfully.

"Alright. You have a point. I'll give him a chance. One chance and that's it. If he fucks up again, I'm taking him to the depths of the sea myself."

"I suppose that's fair," I shrugged. "You heard that, Mingi?"

"Loud and clear," he grinned, a couple of metres away from us.

"He was right there the whole time?!" Soojin hiss-whispered in disbelief. "This is so embarrassing."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've chickened out and those were just empty threats," Mingi winked at her.

She physically shuddered and I couldn't help but laugh. So cute.

"Relax, Soojin. Mingi's our friend now. Aren't you?" I asked.

"If you want me to be," he scratched the back of his head a bit awkwardly.

"Come here, let's play cards," I suggested casually. "Loser gets to swim with the sharks."

"There are no sharks in this sea," Soojin pointed out confidently.

"Yeosang wasn't talking about actual sharks," Mingi correctly guessed. "He meant that I would have to go talk to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Because, obviously, I'm terrible at cards and I would definitely lose the game. And these two are scarier than bloody sharks."

Soojin rolled her eyes.

"Pirates and their stupid way of talking."

"You get used to it," I playfully nudged her arm.

"There's no escape now."

"Let's skip the game," Mingi suggested. "I'll just go talk to the sharks right now and beg for mercy or whatever."

"We'll come with. Right, Soojin?" I offered.

"Like I have a choice," she groaned but I could tell that she was gradually warming up to the idea of letting Mingi stick around.

"Thanks, guys. I appreciate the moral support," Mingi blushed.

"I guess you could say...I'll be your right hand," I stared at the hook replacing my missing hand and snickered sarcastically. Mingi and Soojin were beyond mortified by my dark sense of humour. "Too soon?"

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong's POV

"I mean...we already had dealings with a demon and a wizard so I don't see how Mingi could pose a threat," I reasoned. "No offense, Mingi."

"None taken," he smiled.

"So, you're going to let him stay? Unguarded?" Seonghwa wanted to know.

"Let him stay — yes. Unguarded — no. If you're so insistent he's changed, you'll have to take full responsibility. You think you can handle that, Yeosang?" I posed the serious question.

"I've got this, Cap," Yeosang promised.

"I'll be around, too," Soojin vowed. "You don't have to worry, Cap."

I nodded in agreement. Seonghwa seemed to be on board with the idea. Honestly, after all the shit we'd been through with that demon, Mingi was the least of my concerns. But of course, I couldn't say that directly. So I had to play the "responsible leader worried for his crew" card. And apparently, I played it well.

"Wow, this went better than expected," I could hear Mingi whispering to Yeosang, as they were walking away. Seonghwa and I exchanged an amused look.

"Shh, we just caught him in a good mood," Yeosang explained carefully. "Be nice and he might let you stay for good."

"Guys, be quiet!" Soojin warned them. Clever mermaid, I told myself and grinned. Speaking of mermaids...

"Not so fast!" Y/N ordered them to stop. And so they did. Rightaway. Made me wonder who was the real Captain of this ship. Not that I minded her taking away some of my responsibilities. I even liked it.

"Yes?" Yeosang seemed kinda nervous.

"Make sure you treat my sister well. Both of you!" Y/N commanded them easily. "Or else...I'll have no problem letting the siren out to deal with you. And she's not someone you want to mess with. Ask Hongjoong."

The shock on my face was not at all exaggerated as I nodded to confirm her words.

"She'll be safe with us, Y/N," Yeosang made a pledge. "Right, Mingi?"

"Um, yeah, what he said."

"You don't sound very convincing," Y/N eyed him suspiciously.

Damn, I had to admit I was proud of her and how much she'd grown.

"Oh, let him go this time, will you?" I pulled her aside gently and she couldn't find it in herself to argue. Once Yeosang, Soojin and Mingi had taken their leave, she removed her "intimidating siren" mask and was back to her usual, gentle self I knew and loved.

"You guys think we made the right call?"

"It'll be fine," I was fairly certain. "If push comes to shove, Yunho will just help us out again, right?"

"As if he doesn't have enough problems with that demon," Y/N argued. "We can't continue using him for our needs."

"Yeah...about that," Seonghwa started.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa's POV

As I was telling them about Yunho and Jongho's change in dynamics, Hongjoong and Y/N were too taken aback to react with anything else but by opening their mouths. Which was, to say the least, quite adorable of them.

"So...these two...?" Y/N asked as if to confirm what I'd just finished recounting.

"Mhm," I grinned.

"Wow," Hongjoong managed.

"I know."

"This is good news, yes? It means both Hongjoong and Yunho get to keep their souls," Y/N wanted to make sure it was indeed real.

"I mean, demons can be pretty unpredictable but judging from Yunho's happy expression when I last talked to him, I'm willing to be hopeful for once," I explained. "We've had enough trouble as it is, don't you think? We deserve something good to happen to us."

"Couldn't agree more," Hongjoong grabbed my hand and Y/N's. "But I get what she means. After all the dangers we've experienced, it just seems so unbelievable that we're finally safe."

"Too good to be true, eh?" Y/N sighed. "Let's enjoy this while we can."

"I think this one will last a bit longer," I smiled knowingly.

"Hey, don't jinx it," Hongjoong squeezed my hand softly.

"Just trust me, alright?" I looked at them both.

"I do."

"As do I."

"And I'm gonna catch you when you fall or when you're sinking," I murmured.

"I think I speak from experience when I say I'm the one more likely to save a pirate from drowning," Y/N poked fun at us.

"I was just trying to sound poetic," I pouted.

"And we appreciate the effort," Hongjoong reassured me. "But she's right."

"You two turning against me? Oh, how the tables have turned!" I announced dramatically.

"Don't pretend you don't like it," Y/N ran a hand through my hair and tilted her head towards Hongjoong. "He likes it, doesn't he, Cap?"

"I bet he does."

"Hey, Y/N. My eyes are up here," I reminded her.

"Oh, I know," she blinked, feigning innocence.

"Too bad I can't even be mad at you," I chuckled.

"Why be mad when you can be rad?" Hongjoong interjected.

"That was so terrible," I groaned. "You're lucky I love you."

"Both of us?" Y/N asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately," I admitted.

"Guess we'll have to work harder to turn that into a fortunately," Y/N teased. "Wait, my bad. I forgot you two already have a wholeass fortune in the form of a bunch of treasure chests."

"Is that why you like us?" Hongjoong teased. "Who knew mermaids could be golddiggers?"

"I'll show you a golddigger!" Y/N threatened and started chasing Hongjoong around the ship. They were so childish sometimes...

🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

Reader's POV

You could tell that you had a couple of more minutes left until your siren-like side rose to the surface so you decided to enjoy them. As you were watching the sun setting, you couldn't help but recall your very first memories of Seonghwa and Hongjoong. What started as a simple joke, Hongjoong throwing Seonghwa overboard, followed by you saving Seonghwa from a whirlpool, had turned into so much more. It was funny how life often surprised you in the most unexpected ways. How a few months ago, if anyone asked you about pirates (and humans, in general), you would have scoffed distastefully. If anyone asked Seonghwa about mermaids, he would have still been haunted by the loss of Ariel. If anyone asked Hongjoong, he would have said mermaids spelled nothing but danger. And now...Now, the three of you had become so different. And in a way, so similar. Forgetting all these labels that once used to define you and just finding happiness in each other. In the adventures you'd had together. In the shared feeling of being trusted, feeling known. And loved. It was even funnier how you didn't find it strange at all. On the contrary, it felt perfectly natural that you were here. Made perfect sense that you had a home with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. A former prince, a pirate king and a lost but now found mermaid. You wouldn't have it any other way.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" you said out loud, sensing Seonghwa's presence beside you.

"Yes, it is," Seonghwa replied, looking at you.

"I have to go soon."

"But you'll be back in the morning. As usual."

You simply smiled. It went without saying.

"I wish I could stay the night," you whispered longingly. "Fall asleep in your arms."

"You could. I know you'll be able to control your powers. I'm sure Hongjoong will agree with me."

"I probably could control them. But I don't mind going back to my home in the night. Even though...this is also my home. Does it make sense?"

"I believe it does," Seonghwa rubbed calming circles on your palm. "Just like how you have a human and mermaid self, you also have two homes."

You nodded.

"Exactly."

"In a way, I feel the same. Both you and Hongjoong are my homes."

You rested your forehead against his.

"And we will always be your homes, Hwa."

"Don't go," he murmured against your skin. "I don't want to be alone anymore. Every night."

"You're not alone anymore. You have Hongjoong. And me. And I will be back with the first light of day."

"Promise?"

"I promise you, Seonghwa. Even if the whole world ends, I will always find my way back to you."

The end

[novelconcepts]

for the prompt, please do dani and jamie with 22 thank you :)

prompt: kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches

Jamie can’t remember the last time she needed someone to tend her cuts and scrapes. Can’t remember, even, the last time she wanted as much from another person. There’s something too vulnerable about holding out an open wound and saying, Here. Please. I can’t do it alone. 

Jamie can do it alone, is the thing. Has done for so long, she’s forgotten what it was to want another person’s skin brushing her own, another person’s eyes concerned for her well-being. It’s become second-nature, pushing all of that aside. How many times has she wandered into the kitchen, a cloth pressed firmly to a torn-open patch of wrist or palm, and scoffed at Owen’s worry? How many times has Hannah strolled into the room to find her bracing an ice pack against a freshly-bruised knee, rolling her eyes heavenward at her own clumsy misfortune? It’s natural, courting injury as she maneuvers the grounds. Almost easier than it should be. 

She’s never wanted anyone to fix it for her. Never trusted, if she’s honest, anyone to have the touch. People are too soft. Too twitchy about doing damage. As if there’s any helping a thing like that.

She’s never wanted it--

But Dani, meeting her in the doorway of the greenhouse, has an expression she’s never seen before. Not open worry, not nauseous distaste--an almost perfect, steady calm. 

“Let me.”

No question mark at the end of the sentence. No hopeful sway to Dani’s hips, no itchy pull of Dani’s fingers along the elbows of her own jumper. Dani’s face is set, determined, almost as though she’s been waiting for this day since the first time their eyes met. 

“No need,” Jamie says, though her head is pounding. Dani is plainly unimpressed. 

“C’mere. Sit down.”

She can’t explain why she obeys; her body seems primed to follow instruction, perhaps as evidence of a concussion. There is a split above her brow where a tumbling branch caught her just right, and privately, she’s relieved--that it was her standing beneath the tree as the wind jerked it out of place, and not one of the kids. Jamie had been quick enough to dodge aside. If it had been Flora, if it had been Miles...

Better me. I can take it.

Dani has a kit in hand, she realizes, lifted from the manor bathroom. Sitting beside Jamie on the sofa, she tears open a single-use alcohol wipe. She hesitates only once, one hand hovering beside Jamie’s jaw; when Jamie nods, that hand takes her chin, fingers splayed gently to tip her head back. 

“Deep breath.”

“I’m fine,” Jamie starts to say, the words hissing out of her when Dani angles the wipe against the edge of the wound. It’s small, thankfully--the branch had been, too, though Jamie knows better than anyone that size is no measure of danger--but the sting clenches her teeth together. She closes her eyes, trying her best to disassemble the pain and piece it back together into a more enjoyable sensation.

Not the burn, but the soft pressure of Dani’s hand on her skin.

Not the throb running a path along her skull, but the warmth of Dani’s breath mingling with her own.

Maybe this isn’t better, she realizes. Maybe it is infinitely worse, fixing on Dani’s knee pressed to her thigh, Dani’s hand cradling her cheek as though she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Her eyes flick open to find Dani leaning close, inspecting the wound with an unflappable composure.  

“It isn’t deep,” she says. “Might scar a little, though.”

“Not my first,” Jamie quips before she can stop herself. Dani’s eyebrows raise, her lips curving in a small smile. 

“You’ve got stories.”

Not a question--and not a pressure, either. Just an easy statement. Sometimes, this is just Dani’s way: neat, straightforward, to the point. Jamie wonders what kind of life shapes a woman this way, to navigate the grip of anxiety one moment and turn utterly steadfast the next. She’d like to know. She’ll never push. Dani is a co-worker, nothing more; the last thing Jamie needs is to go crossing bounds again.

“Thank you,” she says, as Dani fishes out a bandage and some tape. “Didn’t, uh. Didn’t need--”

Dani silences her with another smile, tinged with something so like sadness, it puts any knock on the head to shame. “When I was little,” she says, “I was always getting hurt. I was a clumsy kid, I guess. Fell down a lot--out of trees, off my bike. My dad was always the one to take care of it.”

Jamie says nothing. This is the most Dani’s ever spoken directly to her, and she finds the bounce and curve of her Midwestern accent strangely comforting. 

“He wasn’t really a typical dad that way, I guess,” Dani goes on, gently holding the cotton bandage up to the wound. She reaches down, clasps Jamie’s wrist, eases her up to hold the square in place. “Hang onto that a sec. My dad, he was...softer than other kids’. He always knew how to clean my scrapes without making me cry. Never quite got the hang of that, after--he died when I was eight, I dunno if you knew that--”

Jamie shakes her head. Dani, patiently cutting a strip of tape, shrugs.

“Got sick. Was gone almost before I knew it. And my mom was never...much good at any of that, so I had to learn how to patch myself up. The alcohol was always the worst part. Almost.”

“Almost?” Jamie repeats. Dani is replacing her hand with deft fingers, adhering the bandage with simple efficiency. When she checks a mirror later, she suspects the whole affair will be neat, orderly, perfectly applied. 

“Yeah,” Dani says, leaning back to observe her handiwork. She seems satisfied, piling everything back into the first aid kit, closing it with a click. “Worst part was after. He would always find the best bandaid--something brightly-colored, or with cartoon characters--and then he’d lean over whatever I’d busted open that day, and he’d kiss the spot twice. Once for forgiveness, he always said, to let the skin know he didn’t blame it for bleeding. And once for healing. Two kisses, every time. It felt like magic. I could never...”

She quiets, her smile fading. It’s too easy for Jamie to imagine a small girl with a blonde braid, kissing her own scraped knee after a fall, knowing full-well it wouldn’t be the same. Too easy to imagine Dani at eight--eleven--thirteen, patching herself back together on her own. 

“Well,” Jamie says, clearing her throat. “You left a bit out, then.”

Dani raises her eyes, frowning. “Sorry?”

“Did the patching,” Jamie points out. Her mouth is weirdly dry, her head thundering away. This is, she senses, navigating too close to the brink of something. Friendship, maybe. Or just Dani thinking she’s making fun. And still, she can’t stop herself. “Seems like you forgot the magic.”

Dani hesitates, her hands folded in her lap. She’s picking, Jamie realizes, at one cuticle, nearly enough to tear the skin. 

“Go on, then,” she adds, heartened to see Dani’s grave expression tilting toward the sun. “Forgiveness and healing. Could use a little of both, maybe.”

She doesn’t know what she expects, exactly--even saying this feels like the product of insanity, a crack on the head urging her toward things she’d never normally try--but Dani draws a breath. Folds a hand around the back of her head, fingers sifting into curls. Leans forward.

It hurts, a little, Dani pressing her lips to the bandage, though she knows Dani is being gentle. Hurts a little, and sparks something Jamie hadn’t meant to let in, too. She closes her eyes, Dani’s kiss seeming to scorch. 

“Once for forgiveness,” Dani murmurs, lips brushing the skin of her forehead. Another kiss, sweet and soft and sending an electric charge down her spine. “Once for healing.”

She doesn’t lean back, not right away--her hand is warm, her eyes searching Jamie’s, and for a single beat, Jamie wants to tilt her chin. Coax that gentle kiss to find her lips. Change it all. 

The concussion, she assures herself, responsible for the reckless impulse. Responsible, too, for the thread of disappointment coiling in her stomach when Dani removes her hand, places it back in her lap, shakes her head almost ruefully.

“He was better at it.”

“Maybe,” Jamie says. “But I can be clumsy, too. Stay long enough, you might get enough practice to measure up.”

Dani meets her eyes, looking embarrassed, looking delighted. Jamie rubs the back of her neck, casting around for a way out of this hole she’s dug. 

“Listen to me. Take enough thumps to the head, I’m gonna starting spewing puns like Owen.”

“Oh no,” Dani laughs. “Anything but that.”

She has to go, she explains, back to the kids. Jamie’s welcome to join them--she’s got a game of cards planned, and they could use a fourth. Jamie almost agrees. Almost lets herself follow Dani into the house, her fingers straying mindlessly to brush the fresh bandage sealed with a kiss. 

“Shouldn’t,” she says--to Dani, to herself, to the burgeoning heat in her cheeks as she recalls how gently Dani had pressed her lips to the wound. “Work to be done, y’know.”

Dani nods. “See you at dinner?”

She should say no to that, too. Should go home to her little flat, to the quiet which always makes perfect sense, which never turns up with a first aid kit and assertive hands. 

“Yeah. Dinner.” She’s smiling. Dani, leaning against the doorframe, is, too. 

“No more knocks on the noggin,” she adds with mock-gravity. Jamie snorts, gives a careless little salute. 

“No fuckin’ promises.”

It’s difficult to say what’s harder to ignore, when Dani’s gone and the work rises up to meet her once more. Hard to say which part--the thumping of the headache, or the memory of Dani Clayton’s lips pressed to her forehead--has a greater hold on the rest of her day. No one asks, and she’s honestly relieved. 

If asked, Jamie would insist the headache has won out. If asked, she’d have no other choice.

If asked, Jamie would absolutely lie. 

[lunawritingspaceoxoxxx]

Unresponsive II

Three months

Three

Three months

Y/N thrived in the art world, their first displayed piece expressed the raw feeling of losing a love that was so exciting and heart racing and trying to manage in this bland, cold world. They glanced out towards the concrete jungle, watching people hustle and bustle around; single mothers, business men, ladies of the night, etc. They sighed, walking towards the canvas, rubbing their face as they tried to create anything from this creative funk. They knew this was coming from the trip to the falling out with Jennie, suppressing it until they couldn’t anymore, breaking down from just feeling absolute shit from just everything, they cried for their lost friendship, for Damiano, for everything that they sacrificed to get her. When they first started dating Damiano, they were in college for communications and journalism and for the most part, they enjoyed it for the most part and they thought it was going to stick for the most part and then they met Damiano. He came through like a hurricane, tearing through their world and showing them more than just their little small town as he sent pictures of places that he toured at, sending love letters and expensive jewelry.And they cherished every single one, keeping them in a small box underneath their bed, unable to stand even looking at them. Y/N rolled their neck as they pulled off their shirt, tossing it to the side as they grabbed a paint can as they stared at the blank canvas in determination.

TWO WEEKS LATER

“‘Up and coming painter,Y/N L/N, has been hospitalized at New York’s mental hospital. They’ve been experiencing vivid hallucinations and long periods of mania, breaking the glass of their high rise apartment. One theory is giving a little bit of insight to why they’re acting like this, some say she hasn’t been sleeping well or sleeping at all. They recently did a painting stream and you won’t believe this, for almost 30 hours. Some say that they didn’t move either, to eat or relieve themselves, so they potentially have an eating disorder as well.’'

Ethan scoffed as he changed the channel, tossing the remote to the side. “Lo sa ancora (Does he know yet)?” Ethan questioned as he opened a bottle of liquor, pouring himself a glass along with Thomas and Vic. “No, but he’ll probably know soon, you know he kept tabs on them. I don’t know why though, I’m pretty sure that they’re over with.” Damiano stepped through the door, looking worse for wear as he stomped through the room, taking the swing of the bottle. “Damiano….” “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear it, I know they’re in the hospital and-” “Dude, we’re just wondering if you’re okay, we don’t care about them-” Damiano stopped as he glared at Thomas, bending down in front of him. “I don’t give a shit how I feel, but you’re not going to disrespect Y/N in front of me. You can do it anywhere else, but around me.” Ethan quietly watched him as he slammed the door shut. “Maybe he’s onto something, he knows them better than us, maybe they’re nice.” Vic spoke up after a while, rubbing her neck as she felt an insane amount of guilt. She knew that Y/N knew that, and the rest of the band didn’t like them. They were so different from Damiano’s partners, none of his partners were foriegn, Y/N was an American and they did things differently than they do. “Are you okay, Vic, you look like you have an idea that none of us are going to like.” Vic was going to make this right and help these two useless lovebirds. “Pack all of your shit, we’re going to America.”

“What do you mean they’re not here? Where could they go?” The receptionist stared blankly at three before grabbing the phone. “If I knew that, I still couldn’t tell you because of HIPAA, if you don’t leave, I will call security.” They quickly stepped out of the building, disappointed as they looked at themselves. “Okay, so we’re going back home right?” Ethan looked done with everything, glaring at the paparazzi that made their way down the street. “We’re going to look for them, I’m not giving up, Damiano is close to shutting down completely and leaving the band. We owe it to him to at least help him either get back together or help him move on.” Vic realized during the ten-hour flight how well Damiano was doing much better with them in his life, they actively made sure that he was eating and remembering important small details. They were a match made in heaven and according to Vic, everyone needed someone to manage in the cruel world. “I know that they have a friend named Jennie, we just have to find where she’s at.”

“The world hasn’t been too kind to you, hasn’t it?” An older man glanced towards the backseat, frowning as he occasionally watched his child sleep. They looked exhausted and ready to throw in the towel from this brutal boxing match. He remembered them, crying into the phone, on the verge of a panic attack as they tried to form a coherent sentence and the next thing he knew, he was on a flight headed to New York. He knew that after the death of their mother, his wife, that they weren’t okay, but it was their senior year of high school and they got into a very prestigious school. They just kept going and going, no time to grieve and he was surprised that it took them so long to do so. As a father, he wanted to protect them from the outside world and yet, he couldn’t be there for them and it frustrated him so much. He pulled into a dirt road, sighing as they made their way down that familiar path. “I just want you to be happy again, just have this snarkier, larger than life attitude, and enjoy yourself. If you didn’t know, I’m proud of you and I’ll make sure that you know that for the rest of your life.”

“So you’re that Måneskin? Not going to lie, I thought Y/N was lying about him, you know? They seem a little...off the rails.” Ethan furrowed his eyebrows at Jennie as she basically walked around naked. “Is there another Måneskin band that we don’t know about? I’m getting sidetracked, where is Y/N? I know they had a breakdown and I thought in America you had to stay there for three days so?” Jennie just looked at the other woman, shrugging her shoulders as she walked into her kitchen, dancing to trashy pop music. “I really don’t know and I really don’t care, I didn’t consider Y/N as my friend. When they came to New York, I just took advantage of that, they were from the South. They came here and wanted to make all of the friends, wanting to get close with everybody and you know what? I could see them, slowly crack and not be their cheerful self and -” “God, no wonder they acted like that, they have you in their right ear, being a negative bitch and making themselves feel like shit.” Thomas spoke up as she pouted, making Ethan and Vic wear a puzzled look on their faces. “How are you making this about yourself? They’re obviously not in a good mental state, don’t make this about you.” Ethan shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as he looked around, coughing awkwardly. Jennie raised her eyebrows at them before she opened the door, pointing out. “Get the fuck out of my apartment and never come back. You’re lucky that I became friends with that hillbilly freak, no one else would ever deal with them.” Once again, they were stumped, they had no leads and they were pretty much ready to give up and call it a day. “...Vic, why are you doing this? Be honest with us, why do you feel this urge to help them? What have they done for you to help them?” “Because Damiano..has become a better person because of them, he’s been worse than this before. He would sleep around, not caring about who he hurt in the process and he was just sinking further and further. Then Y/N came along, they became friends and it took months of Damiano being called out for him to change and during that time frame, he fell in love with Y/N. ...I was jealous, he was more open with them than me. I’ve known him longer than anyone else and it was painful for me to hear him express his dreams and feelings to someone else. I wanted him to express himself with me instead of trying to act like he’s okay with whatever he was dealing with. That’s why I despised them, my jealousy got the best of me and it clouded my judgement.”

2 MONTHS LATER

Y/N watched the fields of corn as they seemed to continue on, never ending as the days went on. They were mounted on their childhood horse, Luna, as they explored the unchanging surroundings around them. Everything was the same, albeit, it really wasn’t, people passed away and some left to bigger and better things and the town that they grew up with just faded away. It was a ghost town, hardly anything stayed in town, all of the mom and pop shops shut down as the older generation retired and their children didn’t want to run a store. Y/N was lucky to have such great parents and allowed them to explore and learn everything they wanted to know. They never held that against their parents, they knew that just being the weird kid would have been sheltered because they knew how society treated children who didn’t fit into the norm. ”Whatca thinkin about?” “Nothing really, just relaxing, thinking, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t want to go back to New York quite yet. I don’t want to paint..it just reminds me of him, and losing him was the second worst pain that I've dealt with. I remember when mom died and I just pushed myself through, buried myself in my college work and...Damiano helped me decompress, I lost my rock and I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t want to see me. His group just won Eurovision and they’re getting international attention…” Their father watched them carefully, walking next to them. “Let me ask you a question, why did you and Damiano fight? Let’s start from there.” Y/N stopped Luna as they spun around to face the older man. “We fought because I traveled all the way to Rome and got drunk for two weeks. I thought we were going to spend time together and he would take me to see his favorite places-” “Did you tell him that? Before you confronted him?” Their father gave him that same look that they loved to give. Y/N had this bad habit where they'd daydream about important conversations and not have those said conversations in real life, they looked away shamefully. “No...I didn’t” “You know men are dumb as rocks, you need to tell us everything or we won’t pick up on hints that you drop. When your mother was pregnant with you, she would constantly get mad when I didn’t do things which led her to getting a chalkboard to let me know what I needed to do. Good communication makes a relationship thrive and survive, you can’t be silent and expect him to come to you. Now, do you want with this information, there’s someone who would love to speak to you.” A car sped down the dirt path, unfamiliar with this terrain, stopping as they rushed out of the car. “How did he even..” They urged Luna to slowly make their way back inwards, nervously glancing back towards their father, he only nodded as he urged them to continue on.

“Excuse me? I’m looking for…” Damiano trailed off as he watched them slowly trotted over to him. “..How did you even find me?” “Honestly, I spent hours upon hours looking through our facetimes and I just wanted to see you...I have so much to say and I just….Ti amo e voglio essere con te(I love you and I want to be with you), I’m hurting when you are and I realized that I can’t imagine myself without you. You’ve been there when I was at my lowest and you know me so personally and I don’t want to lose you.” Damiano grasped their waist as he pulled them into his chest. “Damia-” “No, let me talk first, you were absolutely right, we should’ve talked about what we should’ve done when you visited. I was stupid to think-” Y/N covered his mouth, shaking their head, “No, I’m partially to blame as well, I didn’t communicate what I wanted and I ended up causing a scene and I embarrassed you in front of everyone and your bandmates probably hate me even more.” Damiano wasn’t even listening to what they were saying, unable to focus on anything else but them, he quickly took their face in his hands, eagerly kissing as he ran his hands along their body, gripping their hips. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, did you?” “Diavolo, no(Hell no), you’re too distracting for me to focus.” He chuckled, pulling them closer to him, smirking when they gasped. “Don’t give me that look, I’ve always wanted to sleep with my amore on their childhood bedroom, let’s make that into a reality, shall we?”

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

76 with danse and a f!sole, please! - “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.” 👉🏽👈🏽

in this house, we love and support danse. <3

did this turn out longer than i expected? absolutely.

prompt 76: “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.”

-

Danse:

the first time, he was injured, taking an unexpected shot from a raider camping on the roof nearby.

“you’re hurt. lay down.” danse hissed under his breath as sole pressed down on the wound located on his shoulder. sole had dropped the bullet on the desk nearby her, grimacing at the sight of his blood staining it.

“i’m fine.” he bit back the sharp breath that threatened to release as he rejected soles offer. “it’d be a waste of time if we were to halt for such a minor injury.” stubbornness. of course. it was something that the paladin was great at and it was no mystery to the people who surrounded him.

sole shot danse a sharp glare as she forcefully pushed him down to the bed. “and it won’t be a waste of time. a few hours wouldn’t hurt, you know,” she let out deep sigh as she caught the harsh tone painting her words, “you always preach about me taking care of myself, i think it’s time for you to follow that.”

as much as danse wanted to argue, he couldn’t deny the fact that she was completely right. everytime she refused to receive care or neglected her health and well-being, he was constantly on her case about it until it drove her insane. instead of talking back, he remained silent as his head hit the pillow under him. “glad we settled that.” she laughed and ran her hand on his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. he closed his eyes, feeling her hands work on his shoulder as she cleaned it up and have it proper attention.

he hadn’t known how heavy his eyes were and how exhausted he actually was until the warmth and tenderness of soles touch lulled him to sleep. how long he had been out of it was something he couldn’t answer but felt himself wake him up enough for him to hear the words that left soles mouth. his eyes remained closed, showing no signs of him listening, but every word imprinted in his mind.

“you gotta take care of yourself, danse.” the way his name left her lips made his heart flutter, “i love you too much to lose you.” he wanted to say something, anything, but he laid still despite the urge to do so. danse felt the warmth leave his face, and a blanket being put over his body as he pretended to sleep during it all. “not that i’d ever say it out loud.”

she didn’t have to say it out loud. he had heard every single letter that echoed within the room, leaving his heart beating and mind full of wonders. instead of bringing up the topic the next morning, he fell quiet and pushed it away to the back of his mind as if he was never listening in the first place. there was no room in his life for a relationship, especially over someone he felt no romantic feelings for.

or so he thought.

- -

the second time around, danse finds out who he truly is. in the midst of chaos, all the people he’s ever trusted had turned their backs on him without a second thought, shunning him out of their lives. the reassuring hand on his shoulder was the only reminder that not everyone had the same intention of doing so.

“danse, look at me.” she crouched down to his level, watching as the former paladin leaned forward, hunching over the bed. he had concealed his face with his hands to hide the devastation that was written all over his features. he didn’t acknowledge soles presence nor did he respond to any of her requests, much to soles distress. “danse.”

silence only followed after regardless of her voice calling out to him. with a soft sigh, she peeled off his hands from his face, eyes softening sadly at the distraught expression written all over it. it takes her a moment to keep herself together before she can properly speak to him. her hands travel to either side of his face, caressing his cheek. “i know it’s hard right now, and i know you’re going through hell,” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, eyes glistening with tears. sole notices this but doesn’t say a word, not knowing what was going through the former paladins mind at that moment. “but i will always have your back until the end of time.”

as expected, danse just stares at her with distraught eyes and gave no response. sole doesn’t take mind to this and continues, brushing her thumb over his cheek soothingly, “it doesn’t matter if you’re a human or synth, it will never change how i feel about you. you’re the most important person in my life danse, and you will never be nothing,” she fights back the tears that threatened to spill, knowing she has to be the strong one in this situation, “you can push me down a million times and i’ll always get back up. you won’t be alone. you will never be alone.”

her arms snake around his shoulders as she pulls him into a tight embrace, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “i love you, danse. i will always love you for who you are and who you’ll be. nothing will ever change that.” he doesn’t acknowledge her words nor does he return it back, but let’s a tear slide down his cheek as he envelopes his arms around her torso.

those words lingered a little longer than the last time it had left her mouth.

- -

the third time, shes deadbeat drunk, nearly to the point of blacking out as preston supported her, standing in front of danses doorway. he held a nervous smile as he tried to let the words down easy, “sorry, danse. she got a little carried away.”

he cocked a brow up, irritation clearly plastered all over his face as his eyes flickered to sole for a mere second. “just a little?” preston smile died down as he shrugged awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. danse let out a small huff, stepping forward to take sole into his arms, looking at the lieutenant before shutting the door. “i appreciate your assistance. have a good night.”

he carried her to his bed, laying her down on the bed as she dozed off, not far enough to sleep. she still had the strength to remain awake despite sleep calling her name. danse went to the kitchen and brought back a bucket of water and a towel, setting it on the nightstand near his bed.

“what were you thinking?” he chided her, wiping her face down with cloth gently, removing any signs of alcohol. “i understand that it is normal for you to consume alcohol, but this is unhealthy, even for you!” he didn’t mean to be harsh- danse was just terribly worried. out of their time of being together, he’d never seen her like this, only going as far as seeing her tipsy and whatnot.

he noticed the guilt in her eyes and instantly regretted scolding her. “ ‘m sorry, danse. i didn’ mean to make you worry. just needed to take my mind off things.” she slurred with half lidded eyes, “don’ hate me, please. don’ be mad.” danse sighed heavily, placing the cloth into the bucket. he looked at her, his voice much gentler than it was earlier, “i’m not mad and i don’t hate you. just don’t do this next time, it doesn’t benefit you in any way.” he hesitated for a moment before speaking up, “feel free to speak to me. you don’t need to go to these measures to ease your mind.”

she stared up at him, and for the first time, he felt his heart beat in a way he was unfamiliar with. “ ‘re you worried ‘bout me?”

“of course i’m worried. anyone would be if the person they cared about neglected their health.” he felt himself pull back, a blush creeping onto his face as sole grinned softly, almost childlike. he had seen her grin a thousand times before, so why did it suddenly feel so different now?

“ ‘m glad you care ‘bout me.” she happily whispered, “next time, ‘ll come to you if somethin’s on my mind.”

“please do so.” he coughed, tucking her in so she wouldn’t be cold for the remainder of the night. sole continued to gaze at him lovingly, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight of the expression on her face. “i’m here for you.”

“thank you for caring ‘bout me. i love you, danse.”

those three words filled the air again, only this time it affected him in some way. the way his face turned red, his heartbeat rang through his ears, and how choked up he became when he processed them was entirely foreign. he couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but it certainly didn’t feel unpleasant.

“rest, sole.” was all that came out instead of a proper response. she hummed in approval before closing her eyes in content. “m’kay.”

even long after sole fell asleep in his bed, he remained in the same spot he was in moments ago, unconsciously admiring soles features as one question lurked in his mind.

why couldn’t he reject her?

- -

out of all the times he could’ve returned her feelings, fate decided for it to be this one. danse swallowed the anxiousness in his throat as he waited for soles return, knowing that she was a day late from the date she was scheduled to come home. he tried to do anything and everything he could think of- build a cabin, mod his armor, mod some weapons- but the more time went by with no sign of her, the more he began to lose his sanity.

she never returned home late, even in the craziest of situations she found herself in, she always came back on time or maybe a little earlier if she was lucky. then again, in the commonwealth you could never know. he bombarded preston with questions, growing impatient at soles absence and demanding answers he knew the lieutenant himself didn’t know.

“i’m sure the general has her reasons, danse. you can’t put her down so easily.” it was prestons way of reassuring danse that sole was perfectly fine and would make it home regardless of the dangers out there. danse wasn’t convinced, not one bit.

he lied in bed, staring restlessly at the ceiling at images of sole popped into his mind. danse missed her smile, her voice, her touch- he missed sole and it was killing him inside and out. all his memories led up to the one that always seemed to linger in the back of his mind, but never properly confronted due to his cowardness. suddenly, he feels a burning pain in his chest as tears begin to rise in his eyes, a soft sob escaping his mouth as it reverberated off the walls to remind him of how much soles disappearance had affected him.

“i love you, danse.”

and it hits him like a train. he shouldve told her everything he’s felt about her instead of trying to push it away and avoid it with every fiber of his being. he should’ve held her in his arms a little bit longer and told her how much he appreciated everything she’s ever done for him and how much she’s changed his life. this pain was unbearable; he couldn’t breathe or think right and the tears fell uncontrollably as his words came out strangled for no one to listen, “come home,” he cried, “please.”

and when sole does come home the next day, he drops everything he’s doing and runs up to her as fast as his legs could take him, nearly pushing down any settlers that dared to block his path. before she could let a word out, she felt his arms wrap around her as he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his head into her shoulder. sole had been caught by surprise, nearly losing her balance as the man nearly crushed her lungs out, removing any air out of her system.

“woah, woah. whatd i miss?” she’d joke, wrapping her arms around danse, who refused to loosen his hold on her. once she realized he was trembling, she pulled away, holding danse on both his shoulders, a look of concern on her face. he looked terrified and it didn’t suit him well. “danse? what happened?”

and just like that, those destined words left his mouth before he knew it. “i love you, sole. i’ve always loved you. i’m sorry for not saying it sooner, i-i..”

sole blinked in surprise, a blush spreading across her face at the sudden confession. “w-what-“ she couldn’t even come close to completing her sentence as danse interrupted her, stammering.

“when you didn’t come home... i was so scared.” he cupped her cheeks gently, his voice barely a whisper. sole leaned into his touch- it was so warm and tender. “i was so scared id never see you again. i was afraid of losing you.”

sole took one of his hands and placed a soft kiss on his knuckle, “you’re never gonna lose me. i told you i’m never gonna leave you alone and i meant it.” she whispered into his skin, “i love you too much to do that.”

danse pulled her in for another embrace, taking in her scent as she wrapped her arms around his torso tightly. he placed a soft, gentle kiss at her temple as he caressed her hair. “don’t ever do that to me again.”

[thecampbellfam]

Alright, the infamous birth story is ready to be shared. A heads up that there are aspects of this story that are TMI (too much information) so read at your own risk. Birth can be messy. ;) It’s a long read so buckle up.

For the week leading up to D’s birth I experienced mild contractions and cramping. Baby was very low in my pelvis and my midwife said at my 38 week appointment that she anticipated me birthing prior to my 39 week appointment (spoiler alert: she was right!). On Sunday, March 21st I woke up to mild contractions. The contractions continued every 3-10 minutes from 6:30-9:30am. These abruptly stopped when the boys came in the bedroom and needed my help and attention while Nic had a shower. During the 3 hours of contractions I made the decision to cancel a lash extension appointment that I had later that day. I texted my housemate and friend, M, to see if she was free to help me power through the open jar orders that I had in case the labour picked up again.

I had a long lull between contractions so decided to capitalize on that time. M and I finished jar orders. I packed all the orders up and scheduled a Canada Post pick up for the next day. I baked myself some lactation cookies. And Nic and I cleaned the bathroom, did the dishes, washed laundry, put last minute items in the hospital bag, organized a few areas of the house, and kept the kids occupied. I had the odd contraction here or there but nothing consistent or overly painful.

By 4pm I was tired and decided to lay down. I looked up something called the Mile’s Circuit and decided to try out the recommended rest positions while I had a nap. The positions in the Mile’s Circuit are known to help reposition baby if they’re sitting off in your pelvis. This seemed to work because by 4:30pm I was having regular contractions again. Contractions were irregular in length and time between, but were coming. This continued ALL evening. The contractions started to get a bit more painful as the evening went on but were never rhythmic enough or painful enough to transfer to the hospital. I was in touch with my doula and midwife who confirmed the same information.

By 11:30pm I was exhausted, discouraged, and the contractions were beginning to get a bit more painful (though still irregular in length and time between). At midnight my doula, K, headed over. She was my saving grace. She encouraged me to labour in a few different positions, took me for a curb walk in the rain, and helped prop me up with pillows when I got tired in a way that would keep my pelvis open while I laid down. I asked her when I should head to the hospital and she said that though the contractions were strong, they were not quite rhythmic enough and I was still too coherent between them.

But at around 1:30am everything changed. I had 3-4 huge contractions laying down and then got up to use the washroom. There I entirely lost my mucus plug (up till that point I had had zero bloody show or fluid loss). I called out for K to tell her about the mucus plug, then stood up and immediately vomited excessively. I told K that we needed to leave now! Nic had been resting and quickly got up to help me to the car. Thankfully I’d had him load up the majority of our hospital items a few hours earlier *just in case* things went quickly.

By 1:54am we were on the road to the hospital with K trailing closely behind. We turned onto the main road and I had a big contraction that I couldn’t speak through while my midwife was trying to call me. When the contraction ended she said she’d meet me at the entrance of the ER. We passed a bridge and I reclined my seat as I had another massive contraction. With this one I started yelling in pain. My body was experiencing fetal ejection reflex and was trying to push baby out while I was simultaneously trying to fight to keep baby in. The feeling of fighting your own body’s urges is one I’ll never ever forget. After that contraction was an odd lull and for a moment I thought we’d make it to the hospital. However, the next contraction hit just as we were passing the pedestrian overpass along the Bypass. I yelled “Uh oh! Uh ohhh! <words I can’t repeat> Nic you need to pull over NOW!” He quickly pulled over, gestured for K to come to the car, and reached to help me. I was fully clothed and frantically needed help pulling my pants down. We got them down just enough as K came to my side. K saw that baby was crowning and with one big push she was out. K was there just in time to catch her. So at 2:05am baby girl was brought up to my chest and Nic and K quickly grabbed whatever they could from the backseat of the car to keep baby warm. A towel and Nic’s infamous highlighter yellow hoodie were the winners. K helped rub baby down to ensure she was warm and checked that she was breathing. From there we impulsively decided to continue on driving. We were in a place that would have taken an ambulance some time to get to plus it was 2am so there was nobody on the roads. I had something called Marginal Cord Insertion which can cause hemorrhaging with the birth of the placenta so I was keen to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Baby on my chest, cord still pulsing and placenta intact, and onward to the hospital we continued. It ended up being the calmest ride and I kept remarking at how amazing it was to have her out while Nic kept commenting on how insane and badass this all was. The relief of having baby girl out was incredible. I’ve been asked a lot if I have trauma from the car birth and I honestly don’t. It was such a relief to have baby out and that she and I were healthy.

We pulled up the hospital shortly after and were greeted by our midwife and a team of nurses ready with a wheelchair, warm towels and blankets. They helped me out of the car and then wheeled us up to the delivery floor. I was greeted by a lot of surprised and impressed nurses. Baby and I got checked over, the cord was cut, and I birthed the placenta. I was stitched up and then we spent a couple hours in the birthing room for monitoring. Afterwards we were transferred to a maternity room and spent a quiet morning and early afternoon snuggling baby girl, having cat naps, watching the sun come up, and even sneaking in a shower. Our short hospital stay was so calm and relaxing so I’m glad we weren’t discharged as early as I was initially hoping. Given that it was baby #3 for us the nursing staff really only came in to go over what’s required and we were largely left alone. Baby and I were deemed healthy and we were discharged at 2:30pm.

We took our time heading home to give my sister time to be there first. She photographed our oldest meeting his brother for the first time and offered to do the same when we brought baby girl home. The photos from both of these photoshoots are cherished and I’m beyond grateful for my sister making the time to capture them.

A few fun facts:

* I selfishly didn’t want to share my birthday with baby girl. Shared birthdays can be tricky and I wanted her birthdate to be her own. She was born 5 days after my birthday allowing us both our own days. I had told Nic that I wanted to be done having kids by 30 so her arriving 5 days past my 30th was pretty bang on.

* Midway through my pregnancy my midwife recommended that I pack an “if I birth in the car” kit for the car, given how quick my active labours were with my last two births. This recommendation put a bug in my ear that my baby could be born in the car.

* A week and a bit before baby girl was born I sobbed listened to a Birth Hour episode about a car birth. I often tear up listening to birth stories but this particular story struck me differently.

* Our doula knew things weren’t going great on the hospital drive because Nic kept slowing down and speeding up (which correlated with my contractions).

* Many have asked about how Nic’s car fared in the birth. This is wild. When Nic got home from work on Saturday he let the boys come out and play in the car for a few minutes with him. Our younger son accidentally left the passenger door open a crack. Not enough to drain the battery but enough for the passenger seat to get absolutely soaked in the overnight downpour. Nic saw that the seat was wet when he loaded up the car with hospital bags and put one of our (new) thick towels on the seat so that my butt wouldn’t get wet. When I was transferred to a wheelchair at the ER entrance, Nic lifted the towel and the seat was COMPLETELY DRY AND CLEAN!

* Baby girl was born at the perfect time. Nic was on his weekend, our housemates were free to watch the boys, K was available to attend the birth and my sister was free to photograph the boys meeting their sister.

* Registering baby’s birth was fun. I had to call up Vital Statistics who had to look on a map to figure out the postal code for the area that I birthed in, since she wasn’t born at a fixed address.

[hchollym]

Aerion x Viserys - We Finally Got Our Dragons

I couldn’t help myself. I will go down with this crack ship  🤣

Warnings: Afterlife, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Age Difference

Read it on AO3. 

____________

Most people think that a person finds peace after they die. Aerion would tell you differently.

The Targaryens have their own “exclusive” afterlife, stuck for eternity with only one another for company. While he's glad that they all appear as they were right before they died and not as they died (for then he would have a hole in his throat and be unable to talk), it still does not change the fact that he’s stuck with these shits forever. Most of his relatives find enjoyment (or at least contentment) here (seeing as half of them are married to each other), but for others – like Aerion – this place is a special kind of hell.

He died drinking wildfire. It certainly wasn’t his finest moment, nor was it something that he wants to remember, given the resulting pain. And yet, his family will never let him forget it. They torment him about it daily, as if he hadn’t already suffered enough.

“Oh look, it’s the Prince Who Thought He Was A Dragon,” they sneer at him whenever he walks by. It’s not as if he’s the first Targaryen to think of himself as a dragon and die because of it. What about all the other fools who got themselves killed trying to hatch a dragon egg? Why aren’t they mocked as he is?

Even his own father sighs disapprovingly when he sees him, as if Aerion brought him embarrassment. It makes Aerion scoff. His older brother was literally known as “Daeron the Drunken” and yet Aerion is somehow the stain on their family name? It’s absolutely ridiculous. His brothers ignore him (he hears their comments about Aerion the Monstrous, and really, when are they going to get over it?).

His own son, Maegor – who joined them when he got into a fight with the wrong person at a tavern – won’t talk to Aerion, because he blames Aerion’s “madness” as the reason he never got the throne. How ungrateful can you be? Maegor wouldn’t even be alive without Aerion.

His bitch of a wife isn’t much better. She refuses to allow him into her bed, and her brother and father are more than happy to guard her chamber door. To be honest, it’s not a huge loss though; she was annoying anyway, always crying and whimpering and screaming while he was trying to enjoy himself. Still, it’s the audacity that angers him.

You would think that the ancestors would grow tired of insulting him after so many years, but it appears that there is not nearly enough exciting news to go around here, so the taunts and insults go on year after year. Even the “Mad King” doesn’t get scorned as much, because people seem to either fear him or feel pity for his insanity.

Aerion tries to ignore most of the ridicule by keeping to himself, which is thankfully easy to do in this endless hallway with infinite corridors and chambers, but that doesn’t completely stop the talk from reaching his ears. He’d been humiliated, angry, and defensive for the first decade or so of these disrespectful comments, but after more than 60 years, he’s just sick and tired of it.

So when the others stop talking about him and begin insulting another, one they mockingly call "the last dragon" and "the beggar king,” Aerion is initially relieved, and then intrigued. He questions his father, who will at least answer him (albeit grudgingly). When he hears the tale of this Viserys, he feels an instant kinship that takes him by surprise.

He’s never felt like he could relate to someone else before, but the fact is, Viserys thought himself a dragon and he too died for it in an excruciating way. The other man was treated like shit in life and now again in death by his own family (Aerion knows the feeling), and his own sister had him killed in a cruel twist of irony.

Aerion’s glad that the attention on him has finally stopped, but he finds himself unexpectedly feeling sympathy for Viserys – an emotion so foreign to him that it took him a while to identify what it was. Perhaps it's because they share similar deaths (though by vastly different means), or that Aerion knows what it's like to be humiliated by the hypocritical ancestors, or because he knows what it’s like for your own family to turn on you.

He hears that Viserys' mother won't even give him sympathy because of how he treated his sister, but so what? The bitch killed him. Why are mothers always so quick to defend the weak? Aerion’s own mother is still angry at him for his treatment of Aegon, but he doesn’t think he has anything to apologize for. Why should he be “nice” to pathetic people? Daenerys should have been grateful that Viserys raised her after they fled King's Landing. Aerion would have sold her immediately to the highest buyer and bought himself a nice house until he raised his army to take back the throne.

He hears through the gossip that Viserys locks himself inside his chambers to avoid the others, which Aerion also understands. He's not entirely sure why he decides to go see him, but perhaps it's because he’s sick of being judged and looked down on, and Viserys seems like the one person who won’t do that.

He makes his way to Viserys’ chambers, holding his head high and ignoring the looks he gets along the way, only to find that the others have painted slurs on the door, and Aerion feels disgust at their tackiness. How old are they? Five? He opens the doors without knocking and sees a man sitting on the bed, his elbows rested on his knees and his head in his hands. When the figure looks up, his expression one of annoyance, anger, and pure exhaustion (a combination which Aerion knows well), and Aerion is struck by just how young he is.

For some reason, he pictured Viserys as close to his age, but he couldn't have been more than 25, though Aerion guesses it’s actually closer to 20. He's practically still a boy, and Aerion feels a hot wave of rage rush through him. This is who they are tormenting for making mistakes when he was exiled in Essos (by no fault of his own), trying to care for an ungrateful sister who eventually murdered him? Honestly, and they thought he was monstrous!

"I'm Aerion Brightflame," he starts before Viserys can get upset at his intrusion. He refuses to give up using that name; the ancestors can go fuck themselves. Viserys' expression clears, and he blinks in confusion before frowning warily.

"What do you want?" He asks suspiciously, and Aerion shrugs nonchalantly.

"I know how these shits can be when they decide to harass someone. Fuck them. You don’t need any of these bumbling fools. You and I, we're still dragons," he assures Viserys, not entirely understanding why he feels compelled to do so, but Aerion knows that he still is a dragon, regardless of how everything ended, and he’s willing to say that Viserys is as well out of solidarity for the mutual enemies/family. Viserys looks shocked before scowling.

"Clearly not, seeing as melted gold killed me, and fire cannot kill a dragon," he points out bitterly, not even mentioning Aerion's own failures, for which Aerion feels unexpectedly grateful for. He sits down next to Viserys, and he finds it hilarious how the other man looks alarmed and ready to flee.

"And how many others have been killed by fire when trying and failing to hatch dragon eggs? We're still Targaryens. We’re still dragons, no matter what those stupid sea cows have to say.” Viserys' expression changes from one of shock to hesitant gratitude. It's a look that Aerion is not used to having directed at him; fear, anger, and even lust are common emotions he’s used to seeing when people look at him, but never gratitude. It makes his stomach churn oddly.

After that, they form a strange bond of companionship. They spend most of their time in one of their chambers (it’s easier to avoid the others that way), but occasionally they venture out to the other rooms with alcohol or food. They don't need either, but it provides them with a distraction to the never-ending boredom. They even throw knives sometimes, though Aerion had to teach Viserys because he never learned.

Their conversations start by talking about all the people they hate and are angry at (of which there are many). Then it changes to their time in Essos (the good, the bad, and the ugly). And finally, they talk of their own failures; the feel of the gold burning through Viserys' skin and hair; the way the wildfire scorched Aerion’s throat and blinded him in pain. They talk of how humiliating it was (and still is), and of their disappointment in the way their lives turned out.

It's odd, because Aerion has never felt the urge to share his thoughts with anyone - no one was ever good enough or would truly understand (until now) - but he finds that it's actually rather nice. He quickly decides that he hates Viserys’ brother Rhaegar – he started this whole mess and yet he still looks at Viserys with disappointment, and it makes Aerion want to burn him. And Viserys quickly decides that Maegor is being selfish by hating his own father. Aerion’s found an unexpected ally in Viserys, and it’s the first time he’s felt anything other than miserable since his death.

...

Maybe it happens because of their surprisingly easy companionship, or maybe it’s because they are so isolated from everyone else (no one else seems capable of getting along with them), or maybe it's even simply because it's been years since Aerion slept with someone. Regardless of the reasons, they somehow end up in bed together. Aerion doesn’t know exactly how it happened, but he’s not complaining.

Viserys accepted being the bottom quickly enough, and Aerion found out later that it's because it wasn’t his first time; he’d been forced to sell his body in order to survive at his lowest points in exile, and Aerion’s never felt protective of anyone before, but he feels it now for Viserys. He also feels irrationally jealous that someone else dared to touch what is his, and yes, he has come to think of Viserys as his.

Viserys is wonderfully responsive, biting his shoulder, scratching his back until he bleeds, moaning and cursing loudly, urging him to go faster and harder. It makes Aerion’s blood sing, his thoughts fuzzy, and the heat envelop him all over until he’s nearly drowning in it.

But it's Viserys’ eyes that really send Aerion over the edge. The pale, lilac orbs dilate in lust, but there's also anger, determination, and hurt in them. Viserys has a vulnerability in his eyes that Aerion would have thought had been destroyed years ago, but somehow it remains, and it's both intoxicating and addicting to see.

When Aerion finally decides to try bottoming (because why the hell not? they're dead, and he’s bored and ready to do something new), he finishes embarrassingly quick. It's better than he ever imagined; fire seems to completely consume him, so hot and bright that Aerion feels like he might pass out. Viserys' cock rubs against a place inside of him that causes sparks to shoot throughout his entire body, and all he can do is pant and gasp as he clings to Viserys for dear life, thinking that if he weren't already dead, then this would definitely kill him because it's too much, but he wants it more than anything.

Viserys never mentions his premature response, and they don’t talk about the fact that Aerion starts to roll them over more and more so he can wrap his legs around Viserys' waist, urging the other man to fuck him. He's relieved by Viserys' lack of acknowledgement, because even in death, he still has his pride, and it's embarrassing how much he loves to fall apart underneath the younger man.

And when Viserys guides Aerion to ride him like a stallion for the first time, Aerion screams himself hoarse, and it suddenly reminds him too much of the wildfire burning his throat, and he starts to panic, so Viserys holds him until he calms, but they don't talk about that either.

...

When Daenerys does finally show up, Aerion becomes insanely angry. She's cold and distant, though she does try to talk to Viserys, and Aerion wants to kill her. How dare she?! He refuses to let her see Viserys until the younger man finally tells him to leave them so they can speak.

Aerion feels something hot and ugly churn in his stomach at that, and he waits by the door until Daenerys leaves, looking only barely fazed. He instantly goes inside to see Viserys' eyes shining with angry tears. He still hasn't gotten good at hiding his emotions yet, and truthfully, Aerion kind of hopes that he never does.

"She hatched the dragons. The fire didn't kill her," Viserys says angrily, but there's also jealously and pure despair there, and Aerion doesn't like it. He pulls Viserys into his arms and kisses him soundly until Viserys pulls back and leans his head on Aerion's chest, sighing heavily.

"Why her?" He asks, though the unspoken why not me? is obvious.

"Because the gods are cruel," he answers honestly, because she didn’t deserve it more than either of them.

"But it doesn't change things. She's here now, just like us, with no dragons. Fuck her, and fuck all of them. We are still dragons," Aerion continues vehemently. He feels Viserys swallow and nod, as if trying to convince himself.

"We are dragons," Viserys says shakily before gaining confidence.

"We are dragons. And while she's here alone, I have you now; my own dragon," he finishes stubbornly, and Aerion feels a rush of something that he chooses not to examine further at those words. He tightens his grip on Viserys and kisses the top of his head.

"And I have you. Looks like we both finally got our dragons."