#untill that day i declare myself depressed

[solardrop]

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead. 

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you. 

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you. 

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display. 

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall. 

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’  names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile. 

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!” 

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero. 

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip. 

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting. 

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there. 

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits. 

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored. 

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him. 

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck. 

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words. 

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise. 

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile,  “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing. 

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

[literatureloverx]

Life with Fyodor as your lover/s/o headcanons

Hello love, thank you very much for the request and I’m genuinely so sorry because it took me so long to answer it!❤️

I took it upon myself to write headcanons and a specific scenario because you had to wait so long.❤️

I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.❤️

+ The scenario I wrote for you is => HERE

Fyodor x ideal type fem!reader, yandere tendencies, unhealthy behaviour, lovesick!reader, husband!Fyodor, wife!reader, etc.

——————————————

F Y O D O R D O S T O E V S K Y

FYODOR’S LIFE WITH HIS LOVER

Life with Fyodor is bound to be peaceful, harmonious, and serene.

However, it is also likely to be lonely, as long as Fyodor is focused on reaching his end goal.

It is essential for you to have your own interests and activities to pass the time because Fyodor won't be around all the time.

He has taken upon himself a great responsibility and goal, and he expects you to understand and cherish this when he steps down for you, declaring his undying love by showing you his vulnerability.

Accepting this means being comfortable with being by yourself for weeks, sometimes even months.

He will keep you in a vast mansion, circled by seemingly unending fields and private land, surrounded by thousands of security guards and cameras.

Only those he has brainwashed will be near you, as he doesn't trust anyone else.

Remember when Dazai said he doesn't trust anyone he can't manipulate? This rings very true for Fyodor.

Morally, you need to be at peace with his methods of ensuring your security. Beyond that, having a rich inner life is crucial to avoid boredom.

Fyodor would not like to see you fall into a depressive episode; he wants you to be joyous, always smiling prettily at him.

In his absence, you might enjoy indoor activities such as listening to music, reading, painting, or baking.

When he returns, he expects you to welcome him with open arms and an open heart. When he is there, you both feel complete.

You would spend intimate moments together, whether under the sheets, against the wall, or in the bathtub.

You would relax, read, and have meaningful, heartfelt conversations.

He would play the cello for you, his eyes meeting yours now and then, a warm and fuzzy feeling forming in his very soul as he meets your adoring, loving, almost lovesick gaze.

He would explain various topics you wish to hear about, and you would share in these discussions deeply.

Fyodor would love to taste your cooking, missing the scent of your homemade meals whenever he is away.

Contrary to what one might think, I believe Fyodor is prone to touchiness when truly, utterly in love. Not a clingy or overwhelming touchiness like Dazai or Nikolai, but a soft, gentle, heartfelt, and thoughtful touchiness. Sometimes even mildly mocking or wildly teasing.

As his partner and wife, you would hear his amused, deep, and intense chuckle now and then.

You would genuinely make him laugh and feel carefree in rare moments, moments he would deeply cherish until the day he dies.

Your life would become fuller when you finally have a baby (or babies).

You would become a loving mother, tending to your children and giving them the love they deserve.

You would compensate for Fyodor's occasional absence, but he would visit as often as his situation allows.

And when he reaches his goal, everything will be perfect.

He would rewrite reality to make his idealistic world worthy of God, including living as a loving husband and father, serving God as intended. ❤️

The scenario I wrote can be found HERE

[dcdreamblog]

@terriwriting That's actually a great question. I assume you're thinking of "The Phantom of the Fair" Very mysterious that one. Though he's known as "The First Supervillain" in many respects his actual story is unclear even to this day. I can share what I know though.

This is probably the clearest photo ever taken of the man, from very early on the morning of April 30th, 1939 taken by a photographer from the New York Globe-Leader. The photographer assumed it was some kind of statue only "it" vanished when he went to take a second picture. No one was prepared for what would occur during the opening ceremony conducted by then mayor Fiorello La Guardia

Another photo, this time from the Planet capturing the moment where the Phantom dropped in on La Guardia, causing a panic in the crowd and taking the microphone The Phantom spoke the now famous works "Men and women of New York City—this World's Fair is now declared officially haunted by the Phantom of the Fair!" before vanishing back into the rooftops despite the best efforts of the NYPD

Now you would THINK that he would instantly be marked for arrest but World's Fairs aren't cheap so Mayor La Guardia, in his infinite wisdom, treated the guy like a publicity stunt for the next several days.

A photo of the Phantom taken on the evening of May 3rd, 1939 as a spotlight is pointed up at the building. No attempt is made to apprehend the Phantom It wasn't until the visit of the UK's King George VI and Queen Elizabeth that the Phantom made a move. Somehow "reprogramming" the mechanical marvel Elektro in the other room and sending it to attack the royal couple.

The police escort was caught totally flat footed and the royal couple was nearly smashed beneath the robot's heavy iron boot until...

The appearance of two strange men. One in an inhuman gas mask and the other in a blood red cloak. Courtesy of the Gazette Up until that point "The Sandman" and "The Crimson Avenger" were considered myths, legend, yellow journalism crafted by a New York in the midst of the Great Depression and an organized crime spike. A modern day Spring Heeled Jack. But there they were. Their fight with the rampaging Elektro and the Phantom lasted for upwards of two hours across the interiors and rooftops of the Fair's central buildings. In the end the broken robot was left sprawled across the dance floor of the central hall and the Phantom was nowhere to be found.

Now this one, taken after the defeat of the Phantom by a photographer from the Planet is one of my favorite shots in history. Beneath this picture, a reporter would coin the term "Mystery Man" and it is at that very moment that the age of the superhero is born. The Sandman and The Crimson Avenger had made themselves known as not just specters in the dark but honest to god crime fighters known the world over. This is the photograph that christened an era. Within the next year we would move from "Yellow Journalism" to the foundation of the Justice Society. As for the Phantom, no one really knows what happened to him. but there are two popular theories. The historically attested theory and the one that was unquestioned for the longest time is that The Phantom was a Nazi saboteur attempting to assassinate King George VI on American soul to alienate the two nations and remove a powerful symbol against fascism (possibly attempting to secure the throne for Edward VIII who was more sympathetic to the German cause) In the early 90s however historian Matt Wagner put forward a theory connecting the Phantom to a man named Gerald Zimmerman as the suspect in a series of anti-queer hate crimes that occurred near the fairgrounds in the days leading up to the Fair itself. The crimes, as one can expect of anti-gay killings investigated in the 1930s, were never conclusively solved but circumstantial evidence and modern psychological analysis of the Phantom and Zimmerman gives the theory some legs. As a historian myself, I can't make conclusive proof one way or another. Rest assured the Fairground has LONG since been scoured for every single scrap of proof that might grant us insight one way or the other Perhaps the Phantom was one last Penny Dreadful style unsolved mystery to open the door to a newer age. When these "Mystery Men" would, for once and always, step out of the shadows as the world sat balanced on a knife's edge.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I was wondering if you knew a fic where Muriel and Crowley are just like,, hanging out? Or if the soho gang (nina and maggie) comfort crowley or something? I really liked their dynamic in season two so I was wondering if there were any fics like that. thanks so much!!

Hello! We have a #crowley & muriel tag with a couple of posts. Here are some fics to add where Crowley spends time with Muriel, Nina, and Maggie...

The recovery of a bog body by Joseph_Amadeus (G)

On the third day of sitting in his car at the bottom of the Border Mires Crowley receives a prophetic vision — Dorothy Zbornak of The Golden Girls appears next to him, all gray curls and no-shit-taking attitude, and reminds him, as kindly as she can, that one shouldn't turn mourning into a way of life

Muriel And The Art Of Bookshop Maintenance by cosmic_day (G)

Muriel has taken over the bookshop, and is doing their best to run it, with helpful advice from Maggie and Nina, and occasional visits from the depressed demon who seems to come in a package deal with the bookshop. And for the first time in their life, they’re reading a book, a book called The Crow Road. All of it is new, and exciting, and wonderful, but it is quite a lot for one 37th class scrivener to handle.

Angels Like These by slapsticks (T)

They shifted back as Crowley stood up, smiling, "You know what? Forget about–all of this, Constable, I think I'll be going now." He declared, shoving the teacup into the startled officer's hands. "You know me, I've got errands, that terrible demon-y stuff," The cup and saucer clanked together as Muriel struggled to hold them. "But – you just arrived," They protested, almost sadly. "I'm..." The words died on their tongue. "Mhm, yeah-huh," Replied Crowley, hardly listening, or at least trying not to, sauntering towards the doors. "Nice seeing you – now, goodbye, for the forseeable future." "The forseeable future?" "For the forseeable future, Inspector!" in which crowley begins to form an unlikely bond with nina, maggie, and muriel ! birthday gift for my good buddy pal bro frank who basically wrote the last couple interactions with me and inspired the whole fic . i might be too dedicated. I Dont Care. happy birthday bro

In Nothing Else So Happy by Ducks Have Ears (NR)

"I count myself in nothing else so happy, as in a soul remembering my good friends." Richard II, Act 2, Scene 3 - Shakespeare Crowley had only ever had one friend and he was beginning to realise that maybe one friend simply wasn't enough. (Part two of the Crowley & Friends series)

That's What Friends Do by Barbarian_MP (NR)

Nina had found him, coming around the corner on her bicycle and at first not being at all surprised to see the car parked in front of her shop. The car seemed to be in that very spot on the daily. Little early for it to be there, sure, but maybe it had been there all night. She wasn’t all that worried about it until she noticed the car’s owner was inside, unmoving.

The F-Word by haleinedelail (T)

Post Series 2, how the living f**k is Crowley ever going to find solace or comfort? Whiskey? Coffee? Cursing? Antisocial behavior? Yes, all of the above. But HOPE is a puzzle that we all must put back together multiple times throughout our lives, and demons are no different. He will find it again, but it might take a village to get all the pieces together.

- Mod D

[primordialsoundmeditation]

My mom did not sleep. She felt exhausted. She was irritable, grumpy, and bitter. She was always sick until one day, suddenly, she changed.

One day my dad said to her:

* I've been looking for a job for three months and I haven't found anything, I'm going to have a few beers with friends.

My mom replied:

* It's okay.

My brother said to her:

* Mom, I'm doing poorly in all subjects at the University.

My mom replied:

* Okay, you will recover, and if you don't, well, you repeat the semester, but you pay the tuition.

My sister said to her:

* Mom, I smashed the car.

My mom replied:

* Okay daughter, take it to the car shop & find how to pay and while they fix it, get around by bus or subway.

Her daughter-in-law said to her:

* Mother-in-law, I came to spend a few months with you.

My mom replied:

* Okay, settle in the living room couch and look for some blankets in the closet.

All of us gathered worried to see these reactions coming from Mom.

We suspected that she had gone to the doctor and that she was prescribed some pills called "I don't give a damn”... Perhaps she was overdosing on these!

We then proposed to do an "intervention"

w/my mother to remove her from any possible addiction she had towards some anti-tantrum medication.

But then ... she gathered us around her and my mom explained:

"It took me a long time to realize that each person is responsible for their life. It took me years to discover that my anguish, anxiety, my depression, my courage, my insomnia & my stress, does not solve your problems but aggravates mine.

I am not responsible for the actions of anyone & it’s not my job to provide happiness but I am responsible for the reactions I express to that.

Therefore, I came to the conclusion that my duty to myself is to remain calm and let each one of you solve what corresponds to you.

I have taken courses in yoga, meditation, miracles, human development, mental hygiene, vibration and neurolinguistic programming and in all of them, I found a common denominator in them all...

I can only control myself, you have all the necessary resources to solve your own problems despite how hard they may be. My job is to pray for you, love on you, encourage you but it’s up to YOU to solve them & find your happiness.

I can only give you my advice if you ask me & it depends on you to follow it or not. There are consequences, good or bad, to your decisions and YOU have to live them.

So! From now on, I cease to be: the receptacle of your responsibilities, the sack of your guilt, the laundress of your remorse, the advocate of your faults, the wall of your lamentations, the depositary of your duties, who should solve your problems or spare a tire every time to fulfill your responsibilities.

From now on, I declare all independent and self-sufficient adults.

Everyone at my mom's house was speechless.

From that day on, the family began to function better, because everyone in the house knew exactly what it is that they needed to do.

__________

For some of us this is hard because we've grown up being the caregivers feeling responsible for others. As moms & wives we are fixers off all things. We never want our loved ones to go through difficult things or to struggle. We want everyone to be happy.

But, the sooner we take that responsibility off of our shoulders & on to each loved one, the better we are preparing them to be responsible.

We are not here on earth to be everything to everyone. Stop putting that pressure on yourself.

Much Love;

Charlyn

Zen Taoism Buddhism Tick Nhat Hanh Dalai Lama

[disillusioneddanny]

Eloped in Space Part 6

Read part 5 here 

The days after Danny had moved into the manor had been strange to say the least. Dick couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the man who had become like a father to him had turned into some love drunk dork. 

They were still slightly in their puppy love stage but Danny had managed to keep Bruce’s hands off of him long enough for Danny to decide that he was going to bond with each one of Bruce’s kids. He had apparently decided that the first one to do this was with Dick. Danny and Bruce had been back on Earth for about a month now as Danny settled into living in the manor and getting used to how everything ran. According to Damian, Duke, and Tim it was an interesting adjustment but they all seemed to enjoy having the man there.

“So,” Danny said, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. They were currently at some random diner in Bludhaven, Danny insisting that he could come to Dick to see him. Something about making a point to make an effort in this familial relationship. He rested his elbows on the table and stared at Dick with those blue eyes that looked as though they had seen their fair share of trauma in the world and refused to let it get him down. “Tell me about your relationship with Bruce. Is he good to you? He’s not shitty or anything? You get plenty of love and affection from him?”

“Uh…no?” Dick said slowly, furrowing his brows. “Bruce is the most emotionally constipated person I know. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever seen him act like that with anyone before.”

Danny made a face and nodded. “I see. Well, just so you know, Bruce will be starting therapy next week. He will be going three times a week until his therapist decides he can go less. He’s also going to be starting some medicine to help with his depression,” Danny said with a small smile, tiredness shone in his eyes. 

“H-how did you get him to agree to that?” Dick asked, eyes wide in shock. Bruce? In therapy? What the actual fuck? What had Danny done to the man?

The Ghost King simply shrugged his shoulders. “My sister was a psychiatrist and took mental health very seriously. I myself see a therapist twice a month. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about all of the craziness that can happen in the world and in our existences. I told Bruce that if he wanted this relationship between the two of us to work he would need to be in some form of therapy. Then last week he met my sister and Jazz basically made him agree to meeting with her three times a week.”

“Wait, your sister? I thought you were like some immortal being, I didn’t realize you had a living family?” Dick asked, looking at the man who had declared himself his stepfather in confusion.

Danny grinned. “Yeah, Jazz died like two hundred years ago or something like that. She’s a ghost in my realm. Our parents both moved on, as did my friends that I grew up with. But Jazz decided that she had to be a pain in my life for eternity. Like I said, when she was alive she was a psychiatrist. And she’s insisting that she works with Bruce to make sure she’s okay.”

“Isn’t it like a breach of trust or something since she’s your sister?” Dick questioned, taking a sip of his soda. 

At this his stepfather’s face fell in annoyance. “Trust me, Jazz is a pain in the ass. She would never break Bruce’s trust and if anything she’ll just tell him anything he wants to know about my childhood or something. But, he’s going to be getting therapy and Jazz is going to start working on that emotional constipation ASAP.”

Dick smiled at the man. “Danny, you’re an amazing step dad. I can’t believe you got Bruce into therapy. Alfred has been trying to convince him since the guy was eight and nothing worked.”

Danny gave him a rueful smile and took a bite of his burger. “I love Bruce a lot, Dick. I’m going to make sure he’s taken care of, whether he likes it or not. I have been around for a very long time, Bruce is the first person I’ve ever loved like this. And because of that, I’m going to make sure he’s okay and isn’t hurting. Under that emotional constipation is a man who loves his family more than anything in this world. The entire time we were on that mission together, all he could talk about was how proud of you guys he was and how much he loved you all. It was very sweet.”

“How’d you do it? How’d you get past it?” Dick asked, looking at the man like he was his own personal hero. At this point he pretty much was. 

Danny just gave him a secretive smile, eyes shining. “I have my ways to get under people’s skin. I can also read people pretty well and knew just which buttons to push. It also didn’t help that from the moment I met Bruce he just looked at me like he either wanted to fuck me or whisk me away to protect me forever. He also had this look like he wanted to learn all of my secrets which was pretty fun. But we just got to know each other on that mission and the more I opened up about my life and after life the more he was willing to do the same.”

Dick took a bite of his own burger and smiled as he mulled over it. If Danny was able to successfully get Bruce in therapy to work on his problems and get the man to open up more, Dick would probably lose his ever loving mind. He couldn’t believe the changes he was seeing in Bruce but he was excited to see how it would go. 

“I think you’re going to be really good for him, Danny,” Dick said with a small smile. 

Danny beamed at him. “I think he’s going to be really good for me too,” he said quietly.

Read part seven here

@mynameisnotlaura @neverlandingbird @angelheartgamer @connorsbonez @quietlyscared  @kgne-k @namichanth @magificence12  @alinmenttreasure  @phantomskeep @themirrorghost @dragonmoon2995 @numbuh-7-knd @blacksea21090 @blankliferain @avenInfear @rentatsunagi @bytheoldwillowtree @michikoy-yuki @aro-acedumbass @legowerewolf @justwannaseesomebrozawa @starscreamlover @undead-essence @skulld3mort-1fan @random-shit-writing @yinari-uchiha @dragongoblet @lesling123 @ascetic-orange @pastalavistamf @illusionwolfwriter24r8 @drowningroane @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @daemonlogical @jogjosmowwdkfs @markus209 @fox-sama97 @that-one-goblin @immakittybear @the-legal-shipper @blackstar-gazer @spoopyspoony @mj-arts-n-stuff @cloudminder @ serasvictoria02 @thegatorsgoose @ mnemovoid

[popcornforone]

Cobwebs

A Frankie (Catfish) Morales Fan Fic

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, & all that shiz. This is it. This is my Christmas Fic for the year. & I decided come September it was gonna be Frankie. I’ve always kinda wanted to do part of this myself, which you’ll all work out (I mean you know some of it I’d love to but we all know we don’t live in that world) so I wanted to share something sexy & romantic at the same time. & I think Frankie always gives those tropes.

Synopsis:- Circumstances mean both you & Frankie are off the grid so it’s time for you to both celebrate a Christmas neither of you had really planned.

Word count: 4100

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, swearing, pleasure, oral, depression, mission gone wrong but no details, self doubt but not suicidal thoughts, wanting to belong, alcohol.talk about sobering up.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy & I wish you all an amazing couple of days & all the best for 2024.

“Are you crying?” You turn to face your beautiful catfish as he cuddles you on the sofa. Christmas Eve night it’s tradition. It’s time to watch Love Actually. It’s as Andrew Lincoln starts doing his signs.

“No” he says. His shoulders shake slightly, his hat which covers his curls is pulled down his head a little. His breathing is sharp. Yea he’s getting emotional. Your hand goes into his hair removing his hat for a few seconds to ruffle it.

“To me you are perfect” you say to Frankie quoting the film, before your lips softly kiss his lips. They feel so soft & you hold his face as he kisses you back.

“Surely im meant to say that”says Frankie.

“But you don’t need to win me over” you smile & you pass him a tissue. “I just want you to hug me, the second the score kicks in for the airport scene” you sip in your hot chocolate & pull your blanket up over you again.”that’s when I blub, it’s pure love”

“As pure as ours?” He asks.

“You tell me baby? Would you run through an airport to declare your love for me?” Frankie pauses for about 3 seconds & then smirks.

“Wouldn’t need to baby,” he giggles” I have my license we don’t need an airport. We can escape when we want to” your thumb wipes his last tear away. He grabs your hand & softly kisses each knuckle.

“Such a romantic” your hand scratches his beard before you pull him in close for a tender kiss on the lips. Everything is right with the world each time you smooch.

The way frankie holds you as the score kicks in & you start blubbering at the airport scene, makes you feel like home. You wish you were at home, but due to Frankies last mission, hes had to all but disappear for 6 months, to make sure no one can track him down. He sent you the code word you’d agreed on if anything happened & you upped & left your entire life behind in 6hours. Frankie had always warned you this could one day be the case & that if the time came, it would prove if you were his or not, were you willing to change everything to be with him? His face 4 weeks ago, when he arrived at this little house you have next to the beach, & he saw you standing in the kitchen made him sob. The sex that night was phenomenal too, you lost your voice from moaning his name. You got married 5 days later. You’d proven you would give up everything for your man & he had been given the love & loyalty he had always craved for. You genuinely had just abandon everything & were happy to live off the grid until Frankie could return back home. He’s heard from Pope who thinks it should be the start of June by the time people stop looking for the people involved.

“You okay baby?” He strokes your shoulder as you just let your tears fall & land in his tshirt.

“Never better Frankie” you mumble. Your arms are wrapped around him & you hug him tightly. His tummy filled with the nice food you’ve eaten & is now full of the love you have for each other.

“My beautiful girl, you’re so beautiful when you cry, I mean not that I want to see you cry but I love that you are so comfortable being vulnerable with me.”

“Isn’t that what marriage is all about Frankie?” You ask “if you can’t accept me at my worse, you don’t deserve me at my best?”

“Maybe” he states & then softly chuckles “I thought marriage was about who does the washing up & having sex 3 times a week”

“We must be having another couples sex then” his comment made you smile, blush & feel aroused. The good thing about living off the grid & only having an emergency burner phone, is that there is no work & no distractions for either of you. Most newly engaged or married couples have a honeymoon period but Frankie has made love to you every morning & night since you both arrived. Afternoon sex after a beach swim or walk has also been a rather pleasurable experience. This little town just know you as the newbies & nothing else. You are his. He is yours.

As the credits start on the film, Frankie disguards his hat onto the coffee table & thrashes his head so his hair is free & messy just how you like it. You know what gonna happen. No words need to be said. Your lips find his, as you help each other undress on the sofa, hands tugging at clothes, exploring the familiar landscapes they have done for the last month. The way Frankie always gasps when you lick his nipples always arouses you. His hand slips inside your knickers to check. Those long fingers are sodden in seconds. The moan you make intoxicates him.

“That’s my girl” he says.

You watch in awe as he uses his teeth to remove your knickers. He uses them to wipe his already building sweat off his brow, it’s now sticky with something else. You slowly turn over & grip the end of the sofa nearest the small Christmas tree you have. Your bum presenting itself for your man. The way he teases you. So large & girthy his length. It collects all your slick. The way it brushes your enterance has you fluttering, ready to accept his pleasure.

“Frankkkkiiiiieeee” the e is drawn out, as he slowly pushes inside you. Your legs part a little more so you’re comfortable as he slow rocks into you.

“Oooh darling” his grip around your hips always starts gentle, but never ends that way. “Oooh so so good, so wet” you rock back into him as he slowly thrusts inside. His curls already sweaty. The look of desire spreading across his face. The noises you make get louder.

“Don’t stop frankie”

“I don’t plan to” the panting is starting, & a firm hand smack your tight arse cheek making you yelp & clamp around him. “Oooh don’t act so surprised girl” he smacks the left one “I know it gets you going” your hand start grabbing the arm of the sofa grips harder. Your other hand which is underneath you, it pleasuring your clit. Frankie usually would but when he’s taking you from behind, he likes to stroke your back. The goosebumps that form on your skin from him trailing down your spine always have you whimpering at the slow sensitive touch. He is right, you enjoy a good smack in the arse. He’s always been a bum guy more than tits. But you both know it’s the long tongue of your catfish that makes you crumble. His mustash always tickles but no man has ever made you squirt during oral before. Frankie makes it happen every time including the first time. You know on Christmas morning you will probably wake up to Frankie being inbetween your thighs lapping away. He enjoys it as much as you do. Says you are the best breakfast a man could ask for.

“Oooh fuck” you bite the back of your hand & stop pleasuring yourslef. Overstimation is happening. Frankie is pounding away.

“Tell me baby, tell me how good it is”

“Fuck it good, oooh fuck fuck fuck yes more”

“More?” He snarls & slaps your arse again. “damn” he feels like he is in your belly. So long & girthy. So deep inside. Your special spot probably needs a break it’s been hit so much, it needs to explode.

“Frankie please please please”

“Tell me baby” the noise of his thrusts have disappeared due tk the heavy breathing & both your volume as you moan.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m…I”

“My slutty wife, oh fuck”

Frankies words finish you off. You fully put all your energy back into his next thrust & then freeze. Thank god you’re gripping onto the sofa, because your thighs crumble & you drop slightly as your orgasm hits you. Frankie is almost instantaneous with yours.

“Jesus oooh fuck” he crys as he spills inside you, fill you up with his seed. His thumbs digging into your skin. There might be marks there in the morning. You think you’re going to go blind as you scrunch your eyes up. It always Feels extraordinary when you cum at the same time. It makes it so intense & phenomenal. Frankie growls & you collapse your head onto the arm of the sofa, trying to regain composure from your high.

“Baby” Frankie lifts you back up a few minutes later, himself also in an exhausted sweaty state. “Oooh baby” soft kisses fill you lips, filled with love. You only muster 2 words as you look at Frankie with a devilish smile.

“To bed?”…

*

You don’t turn in your sleep that often, not that you know of, but for some reason you have & you can feel a cooling matress next to you. But no flesh. You half open your eyes & then they fully open. Frankie is not beside you. The curtains are still pulled, the door is shut. Where is he? He’s in the bathroom you think but you can’t hear anyone walking around your small house. You slowly sit up to check he’s not anywhere in the room. Nope no Frankie. Usually if he’s up early especially considering your current circumstances, he leaves you a note or a message or he’s left you a cup of coffee for when you wake up. But no there’s nothing. You can’t even turn on your phone to see where he is. You’re off the grid. you can also see the burner phone sitting on his bedside table. You stretch getting out of bed & find a pair of long shorts & an oversized blue fluffy jumper to go & search for him around the property.

You search each room & the garden & look up & down the road looking for your man, but still no sign. This isn’t like Frankie at all, not since he’s been sober, but even with his issues he always told you what he was going to do or if he needed some him time. You head back inside & make yourself a flask of coffee, before then thinking about what you should do. It’s as you sniff the coffee brewing that you remember something. You put on your old running trainers, grabbing the flask & head through the lounge out of your house to go find him, you notice his hat is still on the table from last nights rampant escapades, so you put that on your head too, grab your keys & head to the beach.

People walk past you & wish you a merry Christmas before looking at the state of you. You’re wondering why so many people are up at 7am, but then you remember there’s a church at the top of your road. They are all going to go & bless Jesus but you just want to find your god of a husband. You are now regretting the shorts as a rushed choice of clothing. It’s not cold cold but the closer you get to the beach the breezier it gets. It’s a bit of a shock to the system but you are now fully awake. You walk the 7mins to the beach & start walking over the pebbles & rocks to get to the bay.

There he is. Your Catfish. Your husband. His shoes are off as he paddles in the incoming tide form the sea. He has also gone for shorts, his old jeans which he cut up a few years ago when he got engine oil down the bottom half of the legs. He’s got a grey jumper on underneath a big stripy woollen hoodie. His hair is a mess & his face looks like he’s conflicted. That’s him. That’s your Frankie.

“Frankie” you shout as you carefully but quickly manoeuvre your feet to get to him across the stony beach.

“Hey” it’s soft & a sigh follows it.

“Baby what are you doing, you left no note, you didn’t…” you see his shoulders, they are stressed & carrying the weight of the world the closer you get to him. You slow your steps down but you’re only a few meters away now. “Do you just need a minute”

“I’ve had a minute” he says as he steps out of the water onto the rocks to put his own trainers back on. “I think I’ve been here for at least 45 mins having a minute” it’s exasperated his tone.

“We can talk or not Frankie, you know I’m happy to do whatever.” He stands up & walks towards you, you see in those eyes that there’s still so much he wants to tell you but as much as you know your husband & have done everything for him, he doesn’t want to burden you with his struggles. He has now got to you & he takes his hat from your head, ruffles his own hair as he puts it on his own head, before he ruffles your still bed hair. Long, messy & mousey blonde.

“I just had so many plans, for us, for the next year, for this Christmas” he says. Sorrow ringing in his voice.

“It’s okay Frankie we…”

“No it’s not” he interupts. “We were going to do so much today, we were going to tell both our families we were going to get married, we were going to eat a fantastic feast sourrounded by those we love. But no I had to listen to the guys & go on the stupid fucking mission.” He kicks at a few stones as he turns a few bounce off the rocks. “Why can’t I catch a break”

“Shhh shhh shhh” you hold his face.”baby, this might not be what we had planned but we’re here & we’re making the best of it. There will be other Christmases but this one is more than unique” you look dead in his eyes & make intense eye contact. You both close your eyes & sigh, all the stress you’re hoping is leaving his body.”I love you frankie”

“I love you too” Frankie whispers your name against your lips before your lips meet. Soft & slow, taking in all of him. His hand is in your hair after he’s pushed it off your face a little. You could be kissing for just 5 seconds, 5minutes or 5 hours. Time stopped. Frankie realises as his lips slowly part yours that you are right. He needs to accept that this now is your Christmas. It might be away from home, in hiding & just the two of you, but you can still make it special.

“Sorry baby” Frankie whispers as your eyes flutter open. “I just feel like I’ve let you down, you didn’t even get a proper wedding”

“You could never let me down baby” you say before kissing him again “& who needs to spend 10grand on a wedding when you can get married with 2 random people as witnesses & a registra. It was perfect. Me & you.”

“I guess” he states, “that’s when we first came here. To this bay”

“Yes frankie” you giggle”it clearly left an impression”

“It did, I often sneak down here to get rid of the cobwebs in my brain & calm the stress”

“Does it work?” You ask as you sip you coffee, it’s getting colder in the flask.

“Try it?” He suggests. “Take 5 steps forward & close your eyes & just listen to the waves”

“Promise not to run off” you ask him as you step away from him.

“Never, I’m never leaving you again”

You stand completely still & face the sea & slowly close your eyes. The waves crashing into the rocks at the right of you, the way the salty beach air hits your face. Your own breathing being shallow. The warmth just about clinging to your flask & the fact your lips still taste of coffee. You stand in silence & feel the weight being lifted & a sense of calm rolls over you. It works Frankie was right.

You then feel Frankies own head rest in your shoulder. Your eyes stay shut.

“Forever” you mumble as your breathing hitches.

“Til death do us part baby” he whispers in your ear & the kisses pepper around the top of your shoulder & around your neck. This is the moment you realised you made the right choice. His hands wrap around you & you both just stand in silence. His own breaths are music to your ears better than any waves or music or bird song. You slowly feel at peace with everything.

“So…” Frankie says & you slowly open your eyes, cobwebs gone. “…I didn’t give you a proper Christmas wake up did I”

“Well I’m very awake now…”

“Ahhh I meant something more personal than running around trying to find me”

“Well this was a unique way to start Christmas day” you chuckle.

“Personal wasn’t the right word, I meant intimate” no one else is on the beach as Frankie seduces you with those words & he also slips his hand inside your shorts & his eyes light up when he touches flesh. You let out a short gasp as your mound receives its first touch of the day. He scoops you into his arms. “I’m not waiting another second.”

Frankie all but runs with you in his arms back to your house. People watch as you squark his name & he laughs.

“Merry Christmas” you each separately yell at people as he hurry’s you back into the house & kicks the door shut behind him a before he finally deposits you on the bed. The warmth of your house already feeling good to you both but what feels best to you is his hands dealing with your jumper.

“Oooh you were in a rush to find me,no underwear at all” Frankie says as he sucks licks your nipples. “You must love me” Your head rolls back.

“Frankie”

“Oooh fuck baby” he takes his hat off & puts in on your head as you are sitting up. His hoddie & jumper are quickly taken off. His chest always looks magnificent. A few scars from his missions in the past. A little bit of hair. It forms a happy trial. He drops to his knees & you lift up once his hands are in your waist band. The long shorts are slowly removed. You keep your legs together, you know he likes to ask.

“Show me baby” he says as he licks his lips.”please, slowly” you part your things revealing yourself to Frankie. He always looks like an excited puppy when he sees what he gets to taste, it very quickly goes to a brooding desperate husband. “Ooh darling.” He’s panting. His erection growing. He wants to go slowly but he knows once he’s between your legs he will get his fill. “This is the sexiest you’ve ever looked, naked except for my hat & your trainers. So beautiful” his words have you wanting him more. “What did I do to deserve you”

“So much Frankie” you lean forward & caress his face. An impish look glances at him & his smile is one the devil would have. His two large hands push against your breast & you are now laying down, it means you legs open a little bit more & he slide towards your treasure.

“Oooh baby, come to daddy” he say & he slowly licks your clit. Such a large tongue just starting its magic. His tastebuds excited.

“Mmmmmmmm” you make noise but you’re not sure what it registered as. “Frankie…”

“Mmmm exactly” his large thumb takes over, your clit being pleasured has your hips already moving. You can feel yourself clamping already. “Oooh what a lucky man I am” he then parts your legs a little more. “But now you’re going to be my lucky wife…” Frankie does say something more but your too busy trying not to cum at this early stage of the session, to comprehend the end of the sentance. But then you moan.

“Oooh frankie, fuck” he’s buried his head inside you. Not just lapping at the residue or keeping you stimulated. That magnificent tongue is more than just pressing against your enterance, is popping inside your cunt. You feel so sexy. Frankie is the king of oral.

You thrust your hands into his hair, grabbing the pillow or your own breasts werent doing it for you. You tussle his curls as you moan & everything unravels. You push his head further down. The more you push the more pleasure he gives. His nose is rubbing too, making your own rhythm faster. Your pussy quivers at each sensation much like his taste buds must be as he licks.

“Fuck, oooh fuck” your panting. His mouth taking in your sex. Your arousal growing. Your thighs griping around him, hard, but not for much longer at his pace. They will soon be jelly. You will soon be cumming all over his lips. He enjoys the salty taste & you like to make out afterwards as he starts to make love with you. You’re always so sensitive after this & the way his girthy penis will push into you, will have you reaching multiple highs this morning. The way his thick curls feel in your hands as you rustle more, as you feel each motion getting you higher has you whimpering. The words no longer able to be heard. But he can tell from your body you’re close. He’s being squeezed between your legs. His entire face is sticky. Sweat & your arousal. He knows he’s going to get a better taste soon.

He then removes the hand that was griping your hip & slips a finger inside you.

“Jesus” that makes a noise. It’s high pitched & breathy. The finger inside you, the one on your clit & the way his mouth tastes you has you gasping. Your hands dig into his head, thighs grip around him. He’s struggling now but he know it’s coming. You screech”Fuck fuck fuck” & you fall apart. He smiles not that you can see it as he tastes your cum. The clit is furiously rubbed by his thumb to keep your high going. He slurps & sucks away at the new sticky sensation in his mouth. Always his favourite meal. Your chest rises & falls, your nipples are hard, but the rest of your body relaxes in euphoria. He is the king of oral. No man has ever satisfied your cunt more than Frankie.

His head eventually rises after you’ve let go of his hair & you smile. What a mess your husbands face is, red from blushing & being excited. His hair a mess, those front few curls dripping with sweat. But it’s how slick his face is. It glistening like cake icing. You’re both proud of the mess you’ve made of him.

“Never gets old” he says as he unbuckles his belt & gets on top of you on the bed. The fingers that were inside you he trails over your breasts, especially around your erect nipples.

“One of my favourite joys in life” you managed to muster back. Your eyes are transfixed onto how sexy your husband looks right now.

“Mine too baby” his head is now above your, hoover. His hand removes his hat from your head, ending up on the floor. As you had hoped his lips meet yours & the way they feel & the way you can taste yourself on them has your heart pounding. Both your & his hands make quick work of his shorts & boxers. Just feeling his leaking length against your skin has you whinging into your kiss. Now your done with the clothes your hands go back to each other bodies. Touching all you want. He slowly moving up & down your body. He knows he’s doing it right. You both feel the sensation of his tip slowly gracing above your clit. The ultimate tease.

“Frankie” you moan & lift his head up slightly. This big brown eyes on that charming face look back at you. “I didn’t need anything for Christmas, i just wanted you to be happy.”

“& that my beautiful wife, I am.” Your body gives in & he slowly as his tongue finds your tonsils, exploring like it did your cunt earlier, fills you with his penis. You moan & feel full. The stretch is magnificent.

“Happy Christmas beautiful” Frankie says “the best gift of all was knowing you cared” & so continues your Christmas Day feast. It might not be your big planned day, but your circumstances, no matter how unfortunate they are, means you & Frankie can have some quality time together & multiple orgasms.

[ardnek52]

Please REBLOG!

These have been my wishes all my life until 2005 when I promised to myself to live my authentic self from this day and everyday forward. I flipped off society and my family and now am the happiest woman I've ever been. I'd be the happiest woman in the world if not for societies ignorance and hatred and thus financial struggles. But that still does not change how happy I feel inside. People ask me if I regret living my correct gender. Oh hell no, I'd never go back to pretending, hiding my true self. That caused me severe depression. Why would I live for how others want me to live? That's just so wrong.

It's genetic and biological. It's past down in bloodlines. It usually skips a generation, but not always, before the gene expresses itself again. Overs 3000 peer reviewed papers have been published on transgender. In 1887 the medical establishment declared trans people, (although they didn't use transgender as that was not used yet) a subset of intersex. It's has a genetic connection. This is science, people

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Come back Nesta, please

This is perhaps the silliest thing I’ve ever written. Honestly it’s ridiculous. But considering Nike has her own Cassian at home I’m sure she can relate to these antics. Maybe :)

Happy birthday @nikethestatue! It’s been so lovely getting to know you this year and honestly I cannot imagine a day going past without chatting with you. Not only are you strong and intelligent, but you are so generous and truly care about your friends. So, here’s a little drabble of ridiculousness just for you. Don’t ever leave your Cassian 🤭 lots of love to you today, and always 💕

Bat boys + background Nessian. 1.3k words. Fluff/idiocy.

The final bars of a moody Mariah Carey song blasted through the tiny apartment Azriel shared with his brothers. It was tough being a fresh university graduate and they all told themselves the living situation was temporary, but really, it was second nature.  Azriel, Cassian and Rhys had all been living together since Rhys’ mother had fostered the other two boys when they were eleven and even shared a dorm during their college years.

It felt like home for Azriel, and he really didn’t mind it. That is, until last night. When Cassian had decided to incessantly play that fucking song on repeat. That whiny, depressing, shrill song. We Belong Together. Over and over and over.

Sure, Mariah could croon with the best of them, but his last nerve was fraying. Her voice was blasting though the speakers and echoing down the hall from Cassian’s room where he’d been holed up for about fourteen hours now and Azriel had developed a tick in his jaw.

Rhys, even more infuriatingly, seemed unperturbed.

Azriel tried to concentrate on the words he was typing on the resume he was updating to send to prospective jobs he intended to apply to. His jaw clenched as he deleted the last line he’d messed up, backspacing aggressively.

As the final notes of the tune faded off, he breathed a sigh of relief… before he heard that insufferable song start up. Again.

Slamming his laptop closed, Azriel only saw red as he muttered darkly, “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Rhys’ head snapped up from his phone at the violent declaration, lazily sprawled in a brown leather armchair, one leg hitched up on the armrest. He sat up at attention when he spied the livid look on Azriel’s face.

“Wait. Az. Stop—”

Abruptly standing from the couch, Azriel shoved his laptop aside as he trudged down the hall, his footfalls stomping loudly, ensuring Cassian would be well aware of the onslaught that was heading his way.

Azriel didn’t even turn around as he growled back, “It’s been long enough! And if I have to hear that gods damned song one more fucking time—”

“He’s just upset, leave him be. You know what Cass is like,” Rhys reasoned, trailing after Az as he barrelled down the hall.

Azriel had reached Cassian’s room and, not bothering to knock, he burst through the door with such force Rhys was surprised it hadn’t been ripped clean off the hinges.

…I should have held on tight, I never should have let you go I didn’t know nothing I was stupid I was foolish, I was lying to myself…

The song pounded through the small space, like a wave engulfing them as Azriel opened the door. The melody ricocheted off the walls of the tiny bedroom, the curtains drawn tightly closed, Cassian seemingly intent on giving the room a cave like quality in his melancholy.

Peering around Azriel’s shoulder, Rhys spied the most pathetic sight he’d possibly ever seen: lying feebly in his bed like an 18th century maiden who had taken ill and required to either be shipped off to a distant aunts’ home by the sea or await her demise on her deathbed, was Cassian.

If Azriel hadn’t been so irritated, he would have laughed, then perhaps felt a little bad for the guy. But as it were, he was just annoyed.

“Cass!” Azriel shouted over the loud music. “Turn that shit down, or turn that shit off, but either way I do NOT want to hear it again!”

Cassian turned his hazel eyes onto his brothers, now both standing in the doorway; Azriel’s face twisted in a look of disgruntled rage, while Rhys’ mouth seemed to be wobbling, either trying not to burst out laughing or truly feeling sorry for his friend.

From his bed, he curled into a foetal position on top of his duvet, clutching his pillow with the most wretched, forlorn looking expression on his face. After a beat of silence between the brothers, Cassian just dramatically started singing along to the words, intent to ignore Azriel’s requests to turn it off.

“When you left I lost a part of me, it’s still so hard to believe, come back baby please, ‘cause we belong together.”

Azriel just exhaled through flared nostrils. “For fucks sake, Cass—”

“Who else am I gonna lean on when times get tough…”

Rhys, this time interjected. “She didn’t even—”

Cassian only got louder, singing over his brothers’ fruitless reasoning. “WHO’S GOING TO TALK TO ME ON THE PHONE ‘TIL THE SUN COMES UP?”

“Cass. She’s only—”

“WHO’S GON’ TAKE YOUR PLACE THERE AIN’T NOBODY BETTER OH BABY, BABY, WE BELONG TOGETHERRR!”

Azriel and Rhys could only stand there dumbfounded, each with various shades of disbelief and incredulity splashed across their faces.

Rhys leaned towards Azriel, his eyes flaring in alarm and flicking towards Cassian before landing back on Az. “You’d think after draining the life out of that song repeatedly for the last 14 hours he’d know the words,” Rhys muttered from the corner of his mouth, a smirk fighting its way across his lips.

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, trying to fight the urge to straddle Cassian where he lay and suffocate him with his own pillow. Instead, he just stomped to Cassian’s desk and turned down the volume, Mariah reduced to background noise as his brain finally cleared of its rage induced fog.

“Cassian, get a fucking grip, man!”

“You don’t understand!” Cassian started heatedly, sitting up on his bed, his hair ruffled and matted behind him.

“It’s really not that bad, Cass,” Rhys placated, leaning against the door jamb, his arms crossed against his chest.

Cassian scoffed. “Easy for you to say. Feyre didn’t just up and leave you!”

“Oh my god,” Rhys sighed. “Nesta did not just up and leave you!”

“She did! She’s gone, she’s not here!”

“She is on student exchange for two weeks. TWO GOD DAMN WEEKS! You’re acting like she ran off with her yoga instructor,” Azriel exasperated, arms flailing around him as he tried to make his brother see reason and stop the insanity.

Cassian narrowed his eyes, before hurling his pillow at Azriel’s face.

“At least I express how I feel. Pined after Elain much, lately?”

Azriel caught the pillow and promptly launched it back at him.

“I don’t pine! And she has a boyfriend.”

“She dumped him months ago!”

Rhys interjected, sensing one of their infamous brawls brewing, and he didn’t feel like replacing a lamp or cleaning up pieces of broken desk tonight. “Cass, why don’t you just call Nesta? She wouldn’t be starting classes straight away.”

Cassian averted his gaze, a look of sheepishness fleeting across his rough-hewn face. “I tried. I don’t think she’s landed in Japan yet.”

Azriel snorted and Cassian cast narrowed hazel eyes in his direction, as if daring him to say something. Rhys swallowed his lips, smothering his own desire to make fun of his friend as he grabbed Azriel by the shoulder and led him out.

“Well, come out when you get hungry. We ordered pizza…”

Cassian just grunted in response as Rhys closed the door behind them.

They hadn’t reached halfway back down the hall when the music started blaring through the corridor again, Mariah serenading them all once more, to Azriel’s dismay.

“Nesta better not extend her exchange program. I’ll be throwing a sack over his head and abandoning him in a forest otherwise,” Azriel muttered.

Rhys just chuckled, clapping his brother on the shoulder before responding, “It would be no use anyway, he’d eventually find his way back home. He’s incredibly needy.”

*******

tagging: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @the-laughing-bubble @sakurakittypeach @tswaney17 @wingedblooms @thefangirlofhp @alwayssara @ultadverb

[simplegeneral]

Hello folks, so I was recently watching a dnd campaign in the sunless citadel and I had grown so found of one particular kobold from it, Meepo, the dragon caretaker of some sorts, I was so invested on his small story that when he died, killed by Calcryx, I almost feel into a kobold depressive state, like bruh, I wanted for them to get along 😭

  So by the powers granted by myself, I shall now present a small story I have as my canon event. At some point, in the sunless citadel, a clan of kobolds (~34 members) carrying a white dragon egg migrated from the north to this abandoned cultist temple, settling around and preparing for the arrival of their master. As they explored the temple and lost a few members to traps, their leader, Yusdrayl decreed there would be no more expeditions and the places known as ‘the frontier’ were established. Not much later, goblins would invade the temple in far greater numbers and threat the kobolds’ existence.

A war had begun and Yusdrayl decreed a desperate breeding program to increase their numbers. From many attempts and eggs, only a few had survived, among them, the one who would become Meepo. He had hatched on the same day Calcryx hatched and was designed to be her caretaker when time would call.

Years would pass, both Calcryx and Meepo had grow up, quite differently. The temporary caretakers of Calcryx did an awful job and the already naturally aggressive white dragon would frequently harm her caretakers.

Meepo also resulted to be a considerably weaker kobold than the rest of his tribe and not fit for much else. Yusdrayl considered to give him the task immediately than sacrifice any body-fit kobold to Calcryx. The young kobold was casted out of the hatchery into the most dangerous job it could be offered.

His first days were tragic, gaining many scars and nearly being killed by Calcryx at least a couple of times, before more kobolds would come to help. Meepo however, showed to be a fast learner and quickly established what worked and what didn’t with Calcryx, within a month, the white dragon was rather appeased.

Calcryx enjoyed Meepo, as a plaything, of course, his rather submissive behavior made her trigger happy. However, the key that made the difference was that Meepo respected her, not only as an equal, but as a superior, the minimum required to please a dragon. His valiant progress would come to a crashing halt the day goblins attacked the kobolds and in large numbers, managed to capture Calcryx. The entire kobold clan entered in a shock, their master was taken from them, and all blame was casted to Meepo, the shame of the clan. Yusdrayl declared that he should alone take Calcryx back or die trying, and rather preferring him dead, she mobilized the entire clan for a holy war to retake Calcryx if needed. Meepo cried into a nearly depressive state for days, but as he grieved over the loss of his ‘friend’, he begun to plan how he could possible infiltrate the goblin’s stronghold. They were not so different from kobolds, and also had darkvision, still meaning that he would have a better chance at night, when they would be asleep as kobolds would be too. When the night came, he departed with the blessing of Yusdrayl, more like a last goodbye, not expecting him to come back. He crossed the frontier and moved sneakily through the temple at night, avoiding a few patrols and traps, as well as killing a few rats. He would come close by a goblin stronghold, its guards deeply asleep, but with one of them, presumably the leader, keys that would open the doors he needed. He sneaked inside and ever so carefully took the keys. He crossed a hall into a door, which he tried all keys until one eventually worked, opening the door. Inside he saw a caged gnome, as well as several kobolds chained in the floor, he promised them he would return. ‘Meepo will come back for brothers and sisters. Meepo promises.’ He closed the door carefully and continued his journey. He eventually came into a large hall, filled with doors on both sides. After letting a guard patrol pass, he tried the first door in the right, using the keys, he managed to open it and to his surprise, there was Calcryx. The wyrmling hissed, as she was out of her chains, broken by her mighty teeth and claws. She looked at Meepo and recognized her caretaker, almost friend. She moved from her hiding spot on the room to his direction near the door. ‘You came.’ ‘Meepo came to save you, alone, Meepo will save you’ ‘Before we return, I have some… Unfinished business with those pests.’ ‘Meepo understands. He will not oppose your wishes.’

Calcryx walked out of the room and moved west, where she broke the door and proceeded to blast every goblin she saw with her ice breath. Meepo could only hear screams of horror falling silent, possibly from freezing into ice blocks, as well as screams of women and children fading into the dead silence of the temple. Soon Calcryx was returning from the door and moved past him to the corridors. He simply followed. ‘W-Wait. Meepo needs to fulfill promise to return to chained kobolds!’

He run past her and arrived at a door, opening it and unlocking the chains of the kobolds, as she watched over him. The kobolds had run to the door only to find Calcryx waiting there, a mix of fear and deep reverence made them bow to her.

Meepo saved them all, even the gnome who walked with them until reaching an entrance. With Calcryx returned, Meepo’s reputation was saved, captured kobolds returned and, even better, Calcryx’s attacks severely undermine the goblin numerical advantage over the kobolds, giving them time to breath. All of it accomplished in a single night demanded festivities. The kobolds partied for the rest of the night, with happy songs and praises for Tiamat’s spirit still lives with them, as well as increased rations of rat’s meat for everyone there. For Meepo however, things changed little, past his hero status, he returned to his status quo as the weakling of the tribe and begun being mistreated again as usual. Calcryx this time watched it closely, while long previously ignoring the events, she begun to feel a small sympathy for the weak creature, as well as overall anger to be kept within this temple.

One day, completely without warning, Calcryx caught Meepo on the rope of her leash and run off the tribe, with every kobold being unable to stop her.

'Calcryx! Friend! Meepo doesn't understand!" He yelled while literally on the air. 'We are. Leaving!" She snarled as she run off into the forest.

[whovianbuffalo]

Evil Morty: Melody Of Certain Damaged Lemons

To expound upon this post

It's no secret that Evil Morty's theme is tied up with the album Melody Of Certain Damaged Lemons by Blonde Redhead: It's the album where For The Damaged Coda comes from, but the lyrics of the rest of the album fit into his characterisation, too.

“In Particular”:

Some place safe I would imagine Someone new would be so cruel Incurable paranoiac Hysterical depression

- Even when Evil Morty has escaped the central finite curve, he still can't imagine himself forming any new friendships or relationships because of his lasting trauma

Everyone else is really boring

Anyone else won't be good enough

Despite this, the only people that Evil Morty is drawn to are Rick C-137 and Prime Morty. Again and again he keeps returning to Rick because anyone else won't be good enough.

Sometimes I spin around for days Skip and chase and say Forget about tomorrow Until I realize This valid and logic motion Is what keeps me from moving

EMorty tried doing what all other Mortys do: he pushed it down and tried to ignore it, until one day he finally snapped.

“Melody Of A Certain Three”

Crawl, crawl as a child and move like a man Pushing like a father, pulling like a friend Whatever it takes, forever it seems But despite of all that, all is well, all is well

As @trucknoisettes said in a post, Rick Prime is the only adult/only Rick we have seen who actually acknowledges that Evil Morty is still a child...

In S5E10, Rick also says the only "man" who ever hacked his portal gun was EMorty, which reiterates this fact.

However, every Rick has underestimated Evil Morty at some point (and paid the price for it), so "move like a man” really nails home the fact that EMorty is able to get the upper hand because he 'crawls like a child's and then strikes when they least expect it.

Pushing like a father, pulling like a friend

The Ricks and their neediness and their fucked up relationship with Mortys: “an infinite crib around one infinite fucking baby”

Rick is the patriarch of the family, in S3E1, C-137 even declares himself the new head of household in Jerry's absence.

We also saw in the Rick And Two Crows arc that Prime Morty and C-137 Rick played out the same dynamic we see in EMorty's flashback: the arguing. Rick says "it's abusive" but he really does seem to consider teenagers to be his peers more than people his own age are (a point I believe @thesoftboiledegg has made before). He is often more like a friend or sibling to Morty than a grandfather, and certainly not a figure of authority.

“Hated Because Of Great Qualities”

I was worried I might be rude to you So worried that I was It's a lie to serve the truth And I'm still guilty

“A lie to serve the truth” certainly sounds like EMorty's entire election campaign.

“Loved Despite Of Great Faults”

The only secrets We talked about Were all the fears In all these years We spent together That you refuse to fade away I hide to stay the same

EMorty had to leave to protect himself, and similarly, Ricks refuse to hide or fix their 'great faults', but EMorty can't help but love them despite it.

“This Is Not”

So she left everything and traveled to the other world

Evil Morty left the CFC.

But life was like a dream

A series of meaningless movement

Yet Morty still feels the same sense of detached nihilism and hopelessness that Rick feels.

“A Cure”

Oh I see how his life resembles yours

And you somehow are like him

I see I know I've been too good for you You know he's just like me Pleasing you and now all You do is wish I was more and more like him If so, would you consider keeping me closer?

If the Freaky Mortys theory turns out to be true this lyric adds so much... But even if Evil Morty and Prime Morty did not switch places, it's clear that Evil Morty longs for it on some level.

So now I call myself a pleaser This time sitting on a secret One secret everybody knows

Evil Morty gets the plans for the Omega Device so he can deter future threats against him

“For The Damaged”

And here we have the most important track on the album:

Maybe again He will be alone Guess we're both equally damaged Find your name Do it all the same, equally Signal when you can't breathe no more

Ultimately, every Morty has suffered similarly at the hands of a Rick, and EMorty tortured and murdered several Mortys in order to achieve his goal of escaping the CFC, therefore perpetuating the cycle of abuse.

Then you could see the view You'll know we are equally damaged Don't be a fool, make it easier You'll learn to say when Signal if you can't say, "no more"

Morty already knew all-too-well that getting revenge didn't make him feel whole again, but Rick C-137 was ultimately incapable of letting go of his vendetta and that's what got him killed. Now resurrected, not only is he in EMorty's debt, but he's now all the more aware of the similarities between the two of them.

[1solone]

She felt exhausted. She was irritable, grumpy, and bitter. She was always sick until one day, suddenly, she changed.

One day my dad said to her:

- I've been looking for a job for three months and I haven't found anything, I'm going to have a few beers with friends.

My mom replied:

- It's okay.

My brother said to her:

- Mom, I'm doing poorly in all subjects at the University.

My mom replied:

- Okay, you will recover, and if you don't, well, you repeat the semester, but you pay the tuition.

My sister said to her:

- Mom, I smashed the car.

My mom replied:

- Okay daughter, take it to the car shop & find out how to pay and while they fix it, get around by bus or subway.

Her daughter-in-law said to her:

- Mother-in-law, I came to spend a few months with you.

My mom replied:

- Okay, settle in the living room couch and look for some blankets in the closet.

All of us gathered worried to see these reactions coming from Mom.

We suspected that she had gone to the doctor and that she was prescribed some pills called "I don't give a damn”... Perhaps she was overdosing on these!

We then proposed to do an "intervention" with w/my mother to remove her from any possible addiction she had to some anti-tantrum medication.

But then ... she gathered us around her and my mom explained:

"It took me a long time to realize that each person is responsible for their life. It took me years to discover that my anguish, anxiety, depression, courage, insomnia & stress, do not solve your problems but aggravate mine.

I am not responsible for the actions of anyone & it’s not my job to provide happiness but I am responsible for the reactions I express to that.

Therefore, I came to the conclusion that my duty to myself is to remain calm and let each one of you solve what corresponds to you.

I have taken courses in yoga, meditation, miracles, human development, mental hygiene, vibration, and neurolinguistics programming, and in all of them, I found a common denominator in them all...

I can only control myself, you have all the necessary resources to solve your own problems despite how hard they may be. My job is to pray for you, love on you, and encourage you but it’s up to YOU to solve them & find your happiness.

I can only give you my advice if you ask me & it depends on you to follow it or not. There are consequences, good or bad, to your decisions and YOU have to live them.

So from now on, I cease to be the receptacle of your responsibilities, the sack of your guilt, the laundress of your remorse, the advocate of your faults, the wall of your lamentations, the depositary of your duties, who should solve your problems or spare a tire every time to fulfill your responsibilities.

From now on, I declare all independent and self-sufficient adults.

Everyone at my mom's house was speechless.

From that day on, the family began to function better because everyone in the house knew exactly what it was that they needed to do.

.

.

For some of us, this is hard because we've grown up being caregivers and feeling responsible for others. As moms & wives, we are fixers of all things. We never want our loved ones to go through difficult things or to struggle. We want everyone to be happy.

But, the sooner we take that responsibility off of our shoulders & onto each loved one, the better we are preparing them to be responsible.

We are not here on earth to be everything to everyone. Stop putting that pressure on yourself.

Much Love.… ‿ℒℴνℯ⁀❤️  always with ℒℴѵℯ ❤️🕊

[spenchaaaaan]

I officially finished cooking classes last night, which means until I get a job (if that manages to happen) I’m declaring myself a NEET.

This isn’t a victorious thing or anything, it’s more like stating the sad facts of the moment. No Employment, Education or Training? That’s me right now. And my days mostly consist of either napping or eating, one or the other.

I guess now is a good opportunity to do something significant or major in my life, but idk what and also my depression keeps getting in the way. If I had more art commissions maybe I could have this period in my life work out more. Maybe? I dunno.

[queenofcats17]

Hi, idk if you're still ok with writing requests or not so if you're not I'm sorry for bothering you, but... Y'know that TikTok sound that's like "I'm kinda depressed with this fucking cats they're just so- ... I'm gonna FuCkInG k!lL mYsElf ᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃ"

Just imagine Sammy having a rough week and one day he finds out the break room is out of coffee and he just does that in front of everyone lol-

Bᴛᴡ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ-

I'm glad you like my work!

This kind of turned into "Sammy is a dramatic bitch". I hope you don't mind.

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

Sammy was a dramatic man.

Everyone in the studio knew this quite well. He would respond to the slightest inconveniences with incredible theatrics and over-the-top lamentation. The majority of the studio had gotten used to it and were for the most part unfazed by whatever strange outburst he happened to have. This had been going on for years, after all.

One person who was not used to this was Buddy.

Buddy had only been working at the studio for a week when he got a taste of Sammy's theatrics. Given he worked in the animation department, he didn't see a whole lot of Sammy. He'd heard about Sammy's reputation for being a bit of a dramatic prima donna, but he'd never actually seen it in person.

Until today.

It was about lunchtime and Buddy was in the breakroom, eating a sandwich with Dot. There were employees seated at the tables near them, while others stood milling around, either eating while leaning against walls or talking among themselves. It was business as usual.

No one really noticed when Sammy entered as others had been coming and going fairly regularly. What they did notice was Sammy's reaction to finding that they were out of coffee.

He'd been talking to Susie and Jack as he walked in, looking absolutely exhausted.

"I've been feeling kind of depressed the last couple of days," he was saying. "It's just been-" He abruptly stopped, his eyes falling on the empty coffee pot.

Jack and Susie's eyes followed his, both visibly wincing when they saw the empty pot.

Sammy leaned on the table, staring at the pot with a look of complete and utter sorrow. He then dropped to his knees, his hands remaining on the top of the table.

"I'm going to FuCkInG k!lL mYsElf," he moaned.

Buddy's eyes widened in alarm at this declaration and he looked frantically around to see if anyone else was as startled as him. A few looked a bit worried, but most were ignoring it.

"Is...Is he okay?" Buddy whispered to Dot.

"Oh, yeah, he's fine," Dot assured him, not even looking up from her sandwich. "He does this a lot. You should've seen the fit he threw when Wally ate the last slice of chocolate cake."

"Those artistic types," one of the GENT workers sighed, shaking his head.

"Come on," Susie said, dragging Sammy to his feet. "We'll get you some coffee somewhere else."

"We can get some cake too!" Jack added.

Sammy, looking very much like a wet cat in Susie's arms, nodded somewhat sullenly.

The trio left without much more fanfare and Buddy was left confused and baffled. What a strange studio...

[2treez]

This was in my memories for today from my sister Becca Mahoney. I have re-trained myself to be this type of mother, friend, sister & cousin! My life is so much more peaceful and relaxing! It was not easy, however worthwhile things rarely are.

It is certainly is

*A WORTHY READ*

🌳🫶🏼🌳

My mom did not sleep. She felt exhausted. She was irritable, grumpy, and bitter. She was always sick until one day, suddenly, she changed.

One day my dad said to her:

- I've been looking for a job for three months and I haven't found anything, I'm going to have a few beers with friends.

My mom replied:

- It's okay.

My brother said to her:

- Mom, I'm doing poorly in all subjects at the University.

My mom replied:

- Okay, you will recover, and if you don't, well, you repeat the semester, but you pay the tuition.

My sister said to her:

- Mom, I smashed the car.

My mom replied:

- Okay daughter, take it to the car shop & find how to pay and while they fix it, get around by bus or subway.

Her daughter-in-law said to her:

- Mother-in-law, I came to spend a few months with you.

My mom replied:

- Okay, settle in the living room couch and look for some blankets in the closet.

All of us gathered worried to see these reactions coming from Mom.

We suspected that she had gone to the doctor and that she was prescribed some pills called "I don't give a damn”... Perhaps she was overdosing on these!

We then proposed to do an "intervention" with my mother to remove her from any possible addiction she had towards some anti-tantrum medication.

But then - she gathered us around her and my mom explained:

"It took me a long time to realize that each person is responsible for their life. It took me years to discover that my anguish, anxiety, my depression, my courage, my insomnia & my stress, does not solve your problems but aggravates mine.

I am not responsible for the actions of anyone & it’s not my job to provide happiness but I am responsible for the reactions I express to that.

Therefore, I came to the conclusion that my duty to myself is to remain calm and let each one of you solve what corresponds to you.

I have taken courses in yoga, meditation, miracles, human development, mental hygiene, vibration and neurolinguistic programming and in all of them, I found a common denominator in them all...

I can only control myself, you have all the necessary resources to solve your own problems despite how hard they may be. My job is to pray for you, love on you, encourage you but it’s up to YOU to solve them & find your happiness.

I can only give you my advice if you ask me & it depends on you to follow it or not. There are consequences, good or bad, to your decisions and YOU have to live them.

So from now on, I cease to be the receptacle of your responsibilities, the sack of your guilt, the laundress of your remorse, the advocate of your faults, the wall of your lamentations, the depositary of your duties, who should solve your problems or spare a tire every time to fulfill your responsibilities.

From now on, I declare all independent and self-sufficient adults.

Everyone at my mom's house was speechless.

From that day on, the family began to function better because everyone in the house knew exactly what it is that they needed to do.

For some of us this is hard because we've grown up being the caregivers feeling responsible for others. As moms & wives we are fixers off all things. We never want our loved ones to go through difficult things or to struggle. We want everyone to be happy.

But, the sooner we take that responsibility off of our shoulders & on to each loved one, the better we are preparing them to be responsible.

We are not here on earth to be everything to everyone. Stop putting that pressure on yourself.

*I personally did not write this. I came upon it, found it to be powerful and in this crazy time thought it would be a good "read" to share* ❤️

[aria-ashryver]

🌟...aaaaand it's over, no more chemo!🌟

(at least I very much hope so 🤞)

And Caesar, well...

How are you feeling, Aria? When are you getting new scans? Should the side effects go away soon? If they schedule a surgery, when will it happen?

(Also, this is how I picture you getting ready to hear the results of said scans)

♥️🎉🫂🥂

HELLO sweet lovely!!

Thoughts under the cut bc I'm getting a little bleak and edgy for a sec here lmao, but out here, lemme just say:

FUCK YEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHH I DID THAT!!!! 🙌✨🎉💪

I meet with my oncologist next week, so I won't know much more until then (he'll hopefully be telling me I can make an appointment with the surgery team to talk surgery plans!!), but whatever the news is, bring it on. I've got this.

y'know, these last 3 months have really felt like...

but you know what? I'm still here. Still standing. Still got my foot on Caesar's throat.

These past couple days I've been... ugh. I want to keep matching the celebratory energy, I really do. But I am standing on a bloodied battlefield, gasping for air, my darling.

Shortly before noon, May 30th, 2023, I was told my cancer was metastatic.

Advanced.

Secondary.

Stage 4.

Incurable.

I've been carrying that knowledge for a few months now. About 114,000 minutes, actually. And I've been cutting down the intrusive thoughts that whole time. The terror. The doubt. The sheer, stark loneliness that is existing in a body with something insidious that's trying to kill you. I cannot tell you how truly claustrophobic cancer is.

I've won this battle, yes. I made it through my chemotherapy. But I'm going to be sword in hand for the rest of my life. I don't get to rest. And you know what? That's okay. In a lot of ways, I've been fighting for years.

The irony isn't lost on me that I fought tooth and nail to claw my way through depression and suicidal ideation, and now that I finally, wholeheartedly want to live, I get handed a death sentence. One I can beat back, yes (see: bloodied battlefield, foot on Caesar's throat, et cetera), but one that I'll have to continue fighting forever.

I'll be honest, I have more flavours of trauma than a goddamn ice cream parlour, I was wholeheartedly fucked up even before the cancer diagnosis lmao. But NOTHING has broken me yet.

The world has been trying to kill me for decades and I haven't let it.

Caesar is just one more enemy to laugh at.

This battlefield may be bloodied and barren, but it is mine.

I may be standing on a field of broken bones and corpses, but I am standing.

So, here's to the next fight. I'm ready 🖤

also, just as a random parting thought, I was having a massive cry yesterday (again 114,000 minutes!! of being forced to confront my own mortality, and this was only Breakdown #5 (yes, I'm counting), so like... I think I'm doing real good haha). Anyway, I stumbled on a YT short that was so bleakly hilarious to me in the context of having cancer that I laughed so hard it snapped me right the fuck out of it and i stopped being sad and resumed being awesome

the tl;dr is hell yeah chemo is over (hopefully), and I am literally unkillable and feeling very cool and rad about it 💅

also now I want a sword.

oh my god i totally need to buy myself a sword when they declare my body cancer free don't i?

...oh my god im gonna do it

kitty you genius