#i am so fucking pumped for the next episode let's go people
Text
"that's where we're gonna end our session today. great work, everyone. are we okay?"
NO SPENSER I'M NOT OKAY THAT WAS INCREDIBLE BUT I'M NOT OKAY
#critical role#candela obscura#candela lb#i am so fucking pumped for the next episode let's go people#pls don't sleep on this it's so good
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓
—cw: rough, blowjob, degrading nicknames, hair pulling, tie leash, fem!reader
—a/n: this came into existence after i watched the new episode and i realized this mf is insane and actually has some wild ass kinks
you hated how the world pictured kento. he wasn't just some bored and tired man who hates his job. he was more than that. he was insane. if only there was a way to show them that.
"On the knees." Nanami ordered, the cheetah print tie circling around his big, rough hand.
You did what he asked to. Not that your body had a privilege to betray your lustful brain and deny. He wrapped his tie against your neck and secured it with a distanced but tight knot. Tight enough to yank when needed. You couldn't meet his eyes in embarrassment, maybe a little fear too. This was a side he kept hidden to the world, only portrayed if he either loved them or wanted to kill them.
"Take my cock out, my sweet slut." Your fingers struggled to unbuckle his expensive belt. He wouldn't help, you knew it. Once you got the metal out if it's loop, you aimed for the buttons, then the zip. Your sweet fingers dug through his underwear to find his cock. It felt so big in your hand always, and it wasn't even completely hard yet. You started giving it slow pumps and heard him curse under his breath. you waited for his next command, for him to tell you what to do but it never came. Instead what came was a hand that cupoed your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with him.
"I'm going to use this beautiful face as my cocksleeve, yeah? You'd let me, right?" Your core wet, your mind hazy at his words. He didn't need to ask. You know it was just a formality and a dessert that came with the gentleman personality. But he was anything but a gentleman in the bedroom. Calling you names. Using you to his satisfaction. But he knew you liked it because he's the one feeling your pussy tighten when he calls you a "slut."
Nanami's hand traveled to the back of yiur hwad where he grabbed a fistful if your head. You gulped in preparation about what had to come. You opened your mouth and Kento slammed his dick inside you. It slid fast through your tongue but you could taste the hint of his precum.
"Fuck. So good for me," he said, beginning to thrust. "You like when I fuck my frustrations on you." You did. "your mouth is my cumdump, right? you're such a good little slut who always sucks my anger out of me." People out there constantly think how is he always so calm. He's not. The truth is here. He comes home and fucks his anger away. And you count yourself lucky to be his fucktoy because holy shit, the way he fucks you makes you feel like you've found heaven on earth. It's sinister. The darkness in his eyes. They consume you. But ironically, the pleasure that he gives you can only be compared with heaven.
"Shit! I am close—sss agh!" he felt the back of your throat vibrate which sent excitment down his balls. "fuckfuckfuck" he cursed as he yanked your hair back to look at your doe eyes. Soon, he caught up to his high and all you could make for a sound was consumed by his thick load shooting deep inside your throat. He was so deep you didn't even get to taste them. Nanami pulled out, the remaining beads of his cum lacing your lips.
"Such a good little slut. my exclusive cumslut," he cooed running his thumb over your lips, glistening with your sakiva mixed with his released. "ready for me to fuck your brains out, fuckdoll?" Like you'd ever say no.
#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento smut#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#tw.degradation
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Season 1, Episode 9 - Home
Series Masterlist
(Slight TW: Reader has a minor panic attack on the first scene. As someone who suffered with panic attacks frequently, I wrote it to the best that I could explain from my experience. You can skip if you'd like but it partly adds to the plot.)
________________________________
Y/N's POV
Fire blasting and burning down a house.
A woman with her two young kids at the window, screaming for help.
A lamp cord wrapped around Sam's neck choking him to death.
Dean with an ax in his hand, knocking down a wall, then a knife flies at him, stabbing him in his heart.
People screaming for mercy.
My eyes fly open after being screwed shut. Realizing it was all just a dream I try to catch my breath. I can feel my head stinging with a horrible headache. I woke up drenched in my own sweat that's running down my neck and forehead. I look over frantically at the beds next to me to see Sam and Dean still asleep on their respective beds. I push my covers off and run into the bathroom. Splashing my face with cold water.
What was that? Was that a vision? It couldn't be. I'm not psychic like my mom, if I was it would've shown up long before. Holy fuck. Am I late bloomer or some shit? It felt way to real to be just a dream. No no no this can't be happening. I couldn't be psychic. I can't be. It should've shown up sooner.
God how I going to explain this to the boys. Are they gonna hate me? I'm overthinking. If I don't stop I'll start to hyperventilate. Calm down girl CALM DOWN. Relax. Just count like dad always thought you when this happens.
I could feel my heart racing, it's beating escalating by the second. Practically pumping out of my chest. I struggle to get air into my lungs, I could feel my breathing falter as my mind swirls, the images of that family burning alive, the agony they went through. My palms begin to clam up and I could feel my head growing lighter.
"One...breath...Two...breath...Three..." I whisper to myself counting until ten. My back presses against the door as I slide down it. I curl into a ball, pulling my knees to my chest. Crying, begging for that to not be a vision. Please just be a dream. Please just be a dream. I don't want to be psychic. I can't be. I can't be. I know it's supposed to be a gift but I don't want it!!
I hear light knocking on the bathroom door, "Y/N/N? Is everything okay?" I hear Deans soft voice outside, concern seeping through his tone. I sniffle and scoot to the side, opening the door. His face drops when he sees me on the floor, my tear stained face buried in my hands.
"Princess...what's wrong?" He instantly wraps his arms around me, sinking in the floor next to me and I bury my face in his chest sobbing. I could feel everything in that dream. Everything that those dying people were feeling. "I-I d-don't wan-" I struggle to get the words out, coughing through my tears.
"Hey shhh, it's okay sweetheart. I've got you" He coos in my ear, patting my head soothingly. "Was it a nightmare?" He asks me gently. "I don't know" My voice cracking. "It's okay, you don't need to talk about it. I'm here. Just let it out" He whisper into my ear, giving me a kiss on my forehead and the top of my head.
________________________________
"Alright, I've been cruising some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig" Dean tells us but my mind is still stuck on the dream I had last night, currently I'm drawing the house I saw in my dream. Something about it seems so familiar but I can't pinpoint what or why.
I'm sitting across from him at the desk on their motel room while Sam is on his bed, drawing like me. "A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali, it's crew vanished" He says, taking a sip of his coffee. "And uh...we've got some cattle mutilations in West Texas" He continues to list. "Hey!" He calls out to me and Sam annoyed, we look up from our pads.
"Am I boring you two with this hunting evil stuff?" He asks us, glaring. "No. I'm listening. Keep going" Sam says quietly. "Yeah, me too. Continue" I say, looking back down at my pad with the drawing. "And here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times" Dean emphasized the last part.
"Any of these things blowing up your skirt, princess?" He asks me, waving his hand in my face. I scan over my drawing and something clicks in my head. "Wait, I've seen this." Sam says. "Holy shit." I whisper to myself. "What?" Sam asks going to his bag to get something.
I go into my bag and pull out an old picture my dad had with him, mom, John, Mary and a four year old Dean outside of their old house. "What're you guys doing?" Dean asks Sam. Sam pulls out an old picture of Mary and Dean. Comparing it to the picture he drew of a tree and it was identical to the tree in the picture behind them.
"Look at this" I show Sam the picture of the house that I drew and the picture of our parents and Dean as a kid, behind is John and Mary'a old house...identical to the one that I drew from my dream. Sam is stunned by this, "You saw it too..." He said lowly and I nod shakily.
"Dean. I know where we have to go next" I say shakily. "Where?" Dean asked confused. "Back home. Back to Kansas" Sam says and Dean seems shocked by this. "Okay, random. Where did that come from?" He asks us. "Alright, these pictures were taken infront of our old house, right?" Sam takes the picture from my hand and his picture, showing it to Dean.
"This is house where your mom died?" I asked. "Yeah." Dean confirms looking at the picture. "It didn't burn down completely like Y/N's parents house. They rebuilt it, right?" Sam asks. "I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you guys talking about?" Dean asks us confused. "Okay look. This is gonna sound crazy but the people who live in your old house...I think they might be in danger..." I trail off looking at Sam.
"We think they might be in danger" Sam says. "Why would you guys think that?" Dean asks. "Uh..just...um..Look just— You gotta trust us on this, okay?" Sam stutters trying to come up with an excuse, grabbing his bag and I go to grab mine. "Okay, whoa, whoa. Trust you?" Dean gets up from the table as we pack our stuff.
"Yeah" Sam says. "Come on guys. That's weak. You gotta give me a little more than that" Dean says. "I can't really explain it is all." Sam says. "Well, tough. I'm not going anywhere until you do" Dean says annoyed and Sam turn to him sighing. "I have these nightmares" Sam begins. "So do I" I add. "I've noticed" Dean says sympathetically, probably due to my episode last night.
"And sometimes...they come true" Sam says and Dean is stunned. "Come again?" Dean asks. "Look, Dean..I dreamt about Jessica's death for days before it happened." Sam tells him. "Sam, people have weird dreams man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence" Dean assured him, sitting on the bed.
"No. I dreamt about the blood dripping; her on the ceiling, the fire. Everything and I didn't do anything about it because I didn't believe it" Sam argues. "It's true Dean. Days before me and my dad argued. I dreamt about it, I dreamt about me leaving and before you try to feed me that psychology bullshit. I'm not gonna eat it. Just listen to us. Please." I plead with him and Dean sighs shaking his head.
"The day Jessica died...I had this erring feeling that something bad was gonna happen all day. Then we heard Sam scream...." I confess and Sam looks at me shocked. "Really?" He asks. "Yeah. I'm sorry Sam I didn't k-" I go to say but he cuts me off. "It's not your fault. It's okay. You don't need to apologize" He assures me with a small smile and I sigh.
"Look Dean. We're dreaming about that tree, about our house and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean. That's where it all started man. This has to mean something right?" Sam tries to reason frustrated. "I don't know" Dean says shaking his head.
"What do you mean you don't know?" I ask him frustrated. "Dean. You found me on the floor last night crying. It was because I dreamt that! Exactly what Sam saw, I did too!" I exclaim and he looks at me shocked. "I felt the pain, the misery, the anguish, everything. As if I was there" I tell him, tears forming in my eyes. Don't be a little bitch y/n, tough it out.
"This woman might be in danger. I mean this might even be the thing that killed our moms and Jessica!" Sam exclaims. "Alright. Just slow down would you?!" Dean yells, getting up from the bed and walking over to the desk. "I mean, first you tell me you two have got the Shining and then you tell me that I've gotta go back home. Especially when..." Deans voice is shaky as he trails off.
"When what?" Sam asks. "When I swore to myself that I would never go back there" Dean says sadly and my heart drops. I didn't even think about that. Dean saw everything that happened to his mom that night and then heard about everything that happened to mine. Of course he wouldn't want to go back. Gosh I feel so stupid and selfish now.
"Dean..." I say softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't think of it like that" I apologize, putting my hand on his shoulder comfortingly and he looks down sadly. "Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure" Sam pleads. And he looks back at Sam with anguish in his eyes, then back at me he sighs. "I know we do" He says understandably.
________________________________
The boys and I pull up to their old house, by just the look on Deans face you can tell it's already hard enough on him. "You gonna be alright, charming?" I ask him softly, concerned. "Let me get back to you on that, Princess" He says quickly, staring at the house.
We all exit the Impala and walk towards the house. I take the initiative to knock on the door and after a couple seconds a young blonde woman answers it...the same woman from my dream. My breath hitches in my throat when she comes into view and I notice Sam is taken back by it too. Holy fuck it was real.
"Yes?" She asks us sweetly after opening the door. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. But uh we're with the Federal-" Dean goes to lie but Sam cuts him off. "I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean and our best friend Y/N L/N. Umm...we used to live here. Y/N used to live down the block" Sam says, I notice the look of panic on Deans face when Sam spills the beans.
"You know, we were just driving by and the boys were wondering if we could come and see the old place" I say sweetly. "Winchester and L/N....Yeah that's so funny. You know I think I found some of your photos the other night" The woman says with a smile on her face. "You did?" Dean asks shocked.
She looks at us hesitantly for a second before inviting us in. "Okay, come on in" She opens the door wider and we all look at each other with a pleasant smile on our faces towards her and enter. She introduced herself as Jenny as we follow into the kitchen behind her to see a toddler boy, no older than 3, in his crib bouncing up and down chanting.
The second I entered, I felt a heavy sense in the house. I could feel a weight on my chest, like I couldn't breath when I entered. It felt dark, evil, brooding...I couldn't explain it but it wasn't good whatsoever. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.
"Juice, Juice, Juice" and a young girl probably around 10, seemingly doing homework at the kitchen dining table. "That's Richie. He's kind of a juice junkie." She introduces her son, going into the locked fridge and getting a sippy cup with juice.
"But hey. At least he won't get scurvy" He smiles at him, giving him his juice. "Sari, this is Sam, Dean and Y/N. Sam and Dean used to live here." Jenny tells her young daughter, Sari, at the dining table. "Hi" Sari says with a pleasant smile on her face. "Hey, Sari" I say sweetly while Sam and Dean wave at her.
"So you just moved in?" Dean asks. "Yeah. From Wichita" Jenny informs us. "You got family here, or..?" I ask curiously. "No, I just..uh..um..needed a fresh start, that's all" She stummers on her words as we nod. "So new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one. New house" She says with an awkward smile.
I look at the corner of my eye to see an unease but sad smile on Deans face. "So, how are you liking it so far?" Sam asks. She turns to us a bit unsure, "Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home...I mean, I'm sure you have lots of happy memories here...but this place has its issues" She puts it vaguely.
"What do you mean?" I ask concerned. "Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly." She explains and that sets alarms off in my head. "Well, that's too bad. What else?" Dean asks. "Um...Sinks backed up. There's rats in the basement" Jenny further informs us and Deans frown deepens.
She realizes how it might sound and quickly apologizes, "Im sorry. I don't mean to complain" She says sincerely but he smiles reassuringly. "No. Have you see the rats or have you just heard scratching?" Dean asks. "It's just the scratching, actually" She says lowly. "Mom?" Sari calls Jenny over.
"Ask them if it was here when they lived here" Sari says and our faces drop. "What, Sari?" Sam asks her. "The thing in my closet" She says. "Oh, no, baby. There was nothing in their closets. Right?" Jenny tries to convince Sari and herself, turning to us for back up. "Right. No, no, of course not" I tell Sari nicely with a smile on my face.
"She had a nightmare the other night" Jenny tells us. "I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire" Sari insists and the boys and I share bewildered looks.
We're now walking out of their old house and as soon as we left, the feeling I was getting when we entered the house was gone. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I've never felt this was on other hunts before, I can't tell why I felt like that in Sam and Deans old house. It makes no sense.
"You hear that? A figure on fire" Sam says a bit panicked as we leave the house, walking down the porch. "And that woman, Jenny, that was the women from your dreams?" Dean asks us. "Yeah" I confirm, "And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights. Both signs of a malevolent spirit" I list off as we walk towards the car.
"Yeah, well. I'm just freaked out that the two of you guys weirdo visions are coming true" Dean says roughly and I roll my eyes. "Thanks" I grumble sarcastically and his face drops when he remembers that my mom was psychic. "Y/N I'm so-" He goes to apologize but I cut him off. "Forget about that for a second" I say bluntly.
"The thing in the house, you think its the thing that killed our moms and Jessica?" Sam asks. "I don't know" Dean says frustrated. "Well, I mean. Has it come back or has it been there the whole time?" I ask. "Or maybe it's something else entirely guys. We don't know yet" Dean argues. "Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get them out of that house" Sam defends.
"And we will." Dean says and goes to go into the car but I stop him, "No, we mean now" I argue. "And how you gonna do that huh? You got a story that she'll believe!?" Dean gets into my face and argues back. "Then what are we supposed to do?!" I yell frustrated, taking a deep breath.
________________________________
"We just need to chill out, that's all" Dean tells us as he filled up Baby with fuel. We're all at a gas station, Sam outside leaning against the car next to me while I'm smoking a cigarette. "If this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" I ask as I take one last drag from my cigarette before flicking it on the ground and crushing it with the heel of my boot.
Sam takes a deep breath, rubbing his hands together. "We'd try to figure out what we were dealing with. We'd dig into the history of the house." He answers, walking over to Dean who's by the trunk. "Exactly, except this time we already know what happened" Dean says. "Yeah but how much do we even know? How much do you actually remember?" I ask Dean gently, walking over to them and leaning against the trunk next to Sam.
"About that night you mean?" He asks. "Yeah" Sam says and Dean shakes his head. "Not much. I remember the fire. The heat...." Dean says taking a deep breath, reminiscing on the events of the unfaithful night. I could see the flash of emotions as he talks about it. "....then I carried you out the front door" Me and Sam head snap up when Dean says this.
"You did?" Sam asks surprised. "Yeah. Why. You never knew that?" Dean says casually. "No" Sam shakes his head. "And, uh, well you know Dad and Mr. L/N's stories as well as I do. Mom was...was on the ceiling. And so was Mrs. L/N. Whatever put them there was long gone by the time our dads found them" Dean says trying to suppress his emotions.
I just stare at the floor as he talks about it. A lump growing in my throat. I never knew my mom obviously. Granted neither did Sam. Hell, Dean knew my mom more than me. Dean used tell me about when he was little, my mom and dad used to babysit him every so often whenever John and Mary needed the assistance.
He always loved being around my mom because apparently she used to make him pie. Apple pie, his favorite. She used to sneak him slices to carry home because his mom didn't want him eating too much sweets. From what I can tell, they shared a really close bond.
He absolutely adored her and I can tell that when he found out the same thing happened killed my mom, it truly affected him. He lost two mother figures in a span of a couple months, I may have never known my mom but by the stories I've heard. I know she was an amazing woman that I'd wish to be like someday.
"And they never had any theories about what did it?" Sam asks Dean. "If they did, they kept it between themselves" Dean says, turning around to lean against baby with us, me in the middle of the boys. "God knows we asked them enough times" I scoff. "Okay, so if we're gonna figure out what's going on now...we have to figure out what happened back then...and see if it's the same thing" Sam says.
"Yeah. We'll talk to our dads friends, neighbors. People who were there at the time" Dean says nodding. "Does this feel like just another job to you fellas?" I ask ironically. Sam chuckles dryly but Dean doesn't answer. Taking it into thought before excusing himself, "I'll be right back, I gotta go to the bathroom" He says walking away.
"Yeah, me too" I say to Sam, walking towards the bathroom. I'm just a couple feet behind Dean, when I bend the corner I see him dialing a number into his phone and put it to his ear. "Dad....I know I've left you messages before. I've left F/N messages and so have Y/N. I don't even know if you get them" He clears his throat lightly.
"But I'm with Sam and Y/N. And we're in Lawrence...and there's something in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed Mom or not...but.." He trails off before taking a deep breath. "I don't know what to do" His voice cracks when he says this and my heart sinks in my chest. I could just cry hearing the way he sounds so defeated. "So, whatever you and Mr. L/N are doing. If you two could just get here....Please" He pleads.
"I need your help, Dad" He finishes, sounding like he's in the verge of tears before hanging up the phone. He turns around to see me, his face dropping probably at the fact I just heard everything. "Dean..." My tone is sad, concerned and soft. As I say this, his head drops and it's like the dam broke and he couldn't hold back his tears.
I rush over to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, his arms wrap around my waist. I pull him close as he buries his face into my hair on the side of my neck sobbing. "Hey shhhh, it's okay darling. I've got you" I coo soothingly into his ear while he sobs softly, his body trembling. "We'll find them, I promise. Okay?" I pull away and take his face in-between the palm of my hands.
"I promise" I say again, a little more firmly. He nods weakly as I wipe away some of his tears with my thumb before pressing a kiss to his cheek and holding him again tightly. "I'm here, just let it out" I say softly as I rub my fingers in his hair.
________________________________
"So you, John Winchester and F/N L/N. You guys used to own this garage a long time ago?" Dean asks Guenthur. After calming down and leaving the gas station. We all decided to go to our dads' old garage they owned together with an old friend of theirs and ask him a couple questions. "Yeah, we used to. A long time ago" Guenthur says chuckling a bit, he then turns to us wiping his hands with his rag.
"Matter of fact, it must be 20 years since John and F/N disappeared. So why are the cops interested all of a sudden?" He asks us suspiciously. "Oh, we're reopening unsolved cases. The Winchester and L/N disappearances are a couple of them, seeing as they're closely related" I say professionally and the boys nod along in agreement.
"Well, what do you wanna know about John and F/N" Guenthur asks us. "Whatever you remember, you know? Whatever sticks out in your mind" Dean says. "Well, he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that. And F/N was a bit of a dick but boy that man could put down in a drinking contest" He tells us chuckling and we all chuckle along with him.
"And whatever the game, John hated to lose, you know? It was that whole marine thing. And F/N, despite whatever he had a heart of gold. He had this tough way about him, you know he's seen some shit" Guenthur chuckles and I nod along listening. "They sure loved their wives. Mary and M/N. And they dotted on their kids" He says.
I see Dean's face drop again at the mention of our moms. "But that was before the fires?" I ask. "That's right" Guenthur confirms. "They ever talk about what happened those nights?" Sam asks. "No. Not at first. I think they were in shock." He tells us. "Right. But eventually. What did they say about it?" I ask.
"They weren't thinking straight. John kept saying something caused that fire and killed Mary." Guenthur says. "They ever say what did it?" Dean asks. "Nothing did it. It was an accident. An electrical short in the ceiling or walls or something" Guenthur assures us. "I begged F/N to get him some help instead he bought into it and uh...." Guenthur explains to us and trails off, looking down.
"And what?" I insist. "Well they just got worse and worse" He tells us. "How?" Dean asks. "Oh, they started reading these strange old books that F/N had. F/N took him to this palm reader in town that was friends with M/N" He told us and Dean looks over at me. "Palm reader? Do you have a name?" He asks him. "No" Guenthur scoffs.
________________________________
Later we're by a pay phone and Sam's going through the phone book while Dean and I lean against baby. "So there are a few psychics and palm readers in town." Sam tells us. "There's uh, someone named El Divino. There's the mysterious Mr. Fortensky." He says the last part chuckling.
"Uh, Missouri Mosley. Some dude named—" He goes to continue but Dean cuts him off. "Wait wait. Missouri Mosley?" Dean asks. "What?" Sam asks confused. "That's a psychic?" He further questions. "Yeah. Yeah I guess so." Sam says and Dean gets off of baby and opens the backdoor, grabbing John's journal.
"Dad journal. Come here look at this" He tells us as he opens it and we walk over to take a look. "First page. First sentence. Read that." He hands me the book and Sam stands next to me. "I went to Missouri and I learned the truth. What F/N was telling me was true" I read out loud off the page and look back up at the boys.
"I always thought he meant the state" Dean says.
________________________________
After we found Missouri's shop location in the phone book. It wasn't too far so we hopped into baby and headed on over. Now sitting in the waiting area, a dark skinned middle aged woman comes out talking to a middle aged man.
"Don't you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you" She assures the man, smiling. "Well, thank you" The man thanks her and leaves. When he leaves she looks at us and takes a deep breath, "Poor bastard. His woman is cold banging the gardener" She tells us and I cock my eyebrow at this.
"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asks and she turns to us. "People don't come here for the truth. They come here for good news" She tells us bluntly. "Well. Sam, Dean and Y/N, come on already. I ain't got all day" She says a bit annoyed and we sit there stunned. Guess she really is a psychic.
We follow behind her into what looks like her office. "Well, let me look at you" She smiles laughing. "You boys grew up handsome" She compliments them. "And you, Y/N. Oh you look just like your mother. As beautiful as ever" She says sincerely to me, a bit of tears in her eyes. "Thank you" I say softly.
She smiles at me and then turns to Dean. "And you were one goofy looking kid too" She turns to Dean laughing while me and Sam snicker. "You ain't wrong there" I mutter and Deans head snaps on my direction, giving me a slight glare. I scrunch my nose at him before flashing him a wink and he rolls his eyes scoffing, Missouri's eyes glances between us for a couple seconds with a sly smirk on her face.
She then takes Sam's hand with a smile, "Sam. Oh, honey" She gasps sadly, her smile dropping. Sam seems a bit weirded out by this. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend" She tells him sincerely. "And your fathers. They're missing?" She asks us and we're all surprised, taken back at her accuracy.
"How'd you know all that?" Sam asks. "Well...you were just thinking it just now" She tells us. "Where are they? Are they okay?" Dean asks concerned. "I don't know" She tells us. "Don't know? You're supposed to be a psychic, right?" Dean asks a bit annoyed. "Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician?!" She exclaims annoyed while Dean looks like a little boy being scolded by his parent.
Me and Sam stifle our laughter at Dean being told off. "I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please" She orders us, gesturing to some chairs and the boys take a seat. I don't hold back my laughter anymore. "I like you Ms. Moseley" I smile at her and she flashes me a grin. "Please. Call me Missouri" She says and I sit inbetween the boys.
"Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm gonna whack you with a spoon!" She suddenly snaps at Dean and he freezes. "I didn't do anything" He says defensively. "Well, you were thinking about it" She shoots back and he looks at us before shrugging. Me and Sam smile at the sight and stifle our laughter.
"Okay. So our dads. When did you first meet them?" Sam asks her. "They came for a reading. A couple months after Mary died, it was also a few days after M/N died" She says sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. "F/N referred him to me because M/N was a good friend of mine. I just convinced John about what was really out there in the dark because he wouldn't believe F/N. I guess you could say, I helped draw back the curtains for him" She explains to us.
"What about the fires?" Dean asked. "Do you know about what killed our moms?" I ask. "A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing" She tells us. "And could you?" Sam asks and she shakes her head. "I don't..." She hesitates.
"What was it?" I ask shakily. "I don't know." She says. "Ohhhhh....but it was evil" Her voice goes low and my breath hitches. Missouri looks at me and narrows her eyes. "You felt it didn't you?" She asks me and I look down. I notice the boys heads snap over at me shocked. "I don't know what I felt. But it wasn't good" I say.
"So what? Y/N's psychic too?" Dean pipes up. "No" "Possibly" Me and Missouri say at the same time. "It's not possible" I shake my head. "I would've known by now" I say firmly and Missouri frowns. "There are such a thing as late bloomers. It is possible Y/N. You could be unintentionally blocking your abilities on your own" She tells me.
"How?" Sam asks. "I can't say. Only Y/N would know" She says gently, looking at me. I shake my head and I notice the boys give me a sympathetic look. "So, you think somethings back in that house?" Missouri asks us changing the subject which I am grateful for. "Definitely" Sam says nodding.
"I don't understand" Missouri sighs. "What?" I ask. "I haven't been back inside but I've been keeping an eye on the place and it's been quiet. They never rebuilt F/N's old house. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?" She questions.
"I don't know. But our dads going missing and Jessica dying and now this house....all happening at once, it just feels like something is starting" Sam replies and I nod in agreement. "That's a comforting thought" Dean says sarcastically.
________________________________
We convinced Missouri to come with us back to Sam and Dean's old house to take a look at the place. Now knocking at the front door, Jenny answers with her son Richie on her hip. "Sam, Dean, Y/N" She breathes out a bit relieved, looking like she was just frightened. "What're you doing here?" She asks us.
"Hey, Jenny." Sam says softly. "Um, this is our friend, Missouri" Sam introduces Missouri. "If it's not too much. We were hoping to show her the old house. You know? For old times sake" Dean says nicely as Missouri smiles at Jenny who looks at us a bit awkwardly.
"You know what? This isn't a good time" Jenny denies and goes to close the door. "Listen Jenny, it's important- OW!" Dean tries to budge but Missouri smacks him upside his head. "Give the poor girl a break. Can't you see she's upset?" Missouri snaps at him while Sam and I bit back our laughter.
"Forgive this boy. He means well. He's just not the sharpest tool on the shed. But hear me out" Missouri turns to Jenny, pleading with her nicely while Dean glares at her. Sam and I are shocked by this but try to stifle back our snickers. "About what?" Jenny asks, exasperated.
"About this house" Missouri states. "What're you talking about?" Jenny asks us but I get the sense she knows more than she's letting on. "I think you know what she's talking about" I chime in, giving her a knowing look and she looks down guiltily. Missouri flashes me a small smile before turning to Jenny.
"You think there's something in this house. Something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?" Missouri adds and Jenny takes a deep panicked breath. "Who are you?" She asks us. "We're people who can help. Who can stop this thing. But you're gonna have to trust us just a little" Missouri says calmly and Jenny hesitates a little bit before obliges, letting us in.
"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it" Missouri says as we walk into Saris room. "Why?" Sam asks. "This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened" She informs us. Sam looks visibly nervous, his Adam's apple bobs as he takes a look around the room.
As I look around the room I could feel the darkness surrounding the room that I felt earlier, this time. It's a lot heavier, more potent. It didn't feel like just one thing. It felt like there's a ton of dark shit in here and it's not letting up easily.
Dean seems a bit nervous too as he pulls out his EMF meter, powering it up. Missouri turns to him and asks, "That an EMF?" He looks up, "Yeah" He responds. "Amateur" She scoffs and he glares at her a bit. She walks around the room, touching various items and Deans EMF goes off a bit, the red lights and noise blurring.
"I don't know if you kids should be disappointed or relieved but this ain't the thing that took your moms" She tells us and we're all stunned. "Are you sure? How do you know?" Sam asks shakily. "It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's something different" She explains to us.
"What is it?" Dean asks and she walks over to the closet, opening it. It felt like a flash of energy just came out of it as she opened it. "Not it. Them. There's more than one spirit in this place" Missouri states and I gasp lowly. "You felt it too didn't you. Don't deny it" She turns to me.
"I-" I stutter on my words, not able to explain. I can't be psychic. I just shrug, not looking her in her eyes that are narrowed in my direction."What're they doing here?" Dean asks. "They're here because of what happened to your family" She says, walking back to us. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walks this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes wounds get infected." She explains.
"I don't understand" Sam says. "This place is a magnet for paranormal energy" She elaborates and turns looking around the room. "It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead" Missouri says morbidly and I feel a pain in my chest. "You said there was more than one spirit" I say.
She turns to me and nods in confirmation. "There is" She says and walks back into the closet. "I just can't quite make out the second one" Missouri says and asks me. "Can you?". I struggle to answer. "I don't know. But all I know is this don't feel good at all" I say shakily. "Well one things for damn sure. Nobody's dying in this house ever again" Dean states firmly.
"So whatever is here, how do we stop it?" He asks Missouri.
________________________________
We're all now sitting downstairs in Jenny's living room and Missouri set out a bunch of stuff on the table. "So what is all this stuff anyway?" Dean asks curiously as he sits by the table. I'm sitting next to him, my chair turned backwards with me straddling it and Sam standing next to me, leaning against the table with his hands.
"Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt. A few other odds and ends" She lists off, pointing at each item. "Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?" I ask. "We're gonna put them inside the walls, in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house" Missouri explains.
"We're gonna be punching holes in the drywall, Jenny's gonna love that" Dean replies with sarcasm, looking at me and Sam. "She'll live" Missouri retorts. "And this will destroy the spirits?" Sam asks. "It should. It should purify the house completely" Missouri responds with a nod.
"We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to....things are gonna get bad" She warns us.
We got Jenny to leave the house for a couple hours so we can work on the house. Missouri is outside escorting her to her car. Sam's takes upstairs, while Missouri takes the basement and Dean and I took the kitchen. Dean pulls out an axe and starts breaking the wall with it, putting the bag inside....just like my dream....if it's true then that means...
"Holy shit" I gasp. "What?" Dean asks me concerned. "You breaking the wall. I dreamt that. And I dreamt Sam getting strangled with a cord" I tell him quickly. "Duck!" I yell and pull him to the ground. The knife was flying towards us, it stabs the cupboard above us.
We grab a table, knocking it down and using it as a shield, knives stabbing through it. "You dreamt me getting stabbed too, didn't you?" He asks me and I nod quickly. "Oh shit. Sam!" I gasp, realization takes over Deans face and we bolt upstairs.
We run into the room to see Sam on the ground with the cord wrapped around his neck, gasping for breath. "Sam!" Dean exclaims, he tries to pull the cord off, grunting but it wouldn't budge. I see the bag with the stuff Missouri gave us to put in the walls next to Sam.
I take it up and kick a hole in the wall which part Sam was supposed to put and and chuck it in the hole. Suddenly a blast of white light takes over the house, temporarily blinding us. I cover my head with my arms and Dean does the same.
I rush over to Sam to see the cord has loosen. He takes a deep breath, catching his breath and we pull it out from around his neck, holding him up. I sigh in relief as I hold my best friend in my arms. Dean lets out a sigh too, holding his little brother.
________________________________
Later we're all back downstairs in the kitchen, that's in quite the mess. "You sure this is over?" I ask Missouri. "I'm sure" she says, turning to me. "Why? Why do you ask?" She questions. "Never mind. It's nothing I guess" I say and we hear the front door open and close.
I'm still a bit unsure about this whole thing, the place still feels a bit heavy but maybe I'm just being paranoid. I notice Sam seems uneasy about it too but he chooses not to say anything. The light turns on, "Hello, we're home" Jenny announces her presence, walking in with Richie on her hip and holding Saris hand.
She looks around in shock at the mess the place is in. "What happened?" She asks us worried. "Hi. Sorry uh. We'll pay for all of this" Sam apologizes and I notice Dean look at him like 'We will?'. "Don't you worry. Deans gonna clean up this mess" Missouri tells her and his eyebrows cock up at this.
"Well, what are you waiting for boy? Get the mop" She orders him in a motherly tone and he goes to walk off. "And don't cuss at me" She snaps and he turns back surprised. I hold back a snicker at his reaction as he goes to get the mop, mumbling to himself angrily. I chuckle at the interaction, my heart swelling a bit at the cute look in Deans face when he's mumbling like a child.
He's so freaking adorable. Wait. What? I think to myself. Missouri head snaps to me when I have this thought, a sly look on her face and she flashes me a wink. I look at her confused and she comes closer to me and whispers, "You'd be surprised at what he thinks of you". I cock my eyebrow in confusion and she shakes her head in amusement.
We all leave the house after cleaning up in a orderly fashion, turning back to Jenny and waving at her as we leave.
________________________________
"Alright so tell me again. What are we still doing here?" Dean asks us a bit annoyed. We're all outside of their old house in the Impala. "I don't know. I-I just uh-" I stutter on my words. "We still have a bad feeling" Sam pipes up. "Why?" Dean asks up exasperated. "Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubinstein thing. The house should be clean. This should be over" He adds turning to us.
"Yeah. Well, probably. But we just wanna make sure. That's all." I tell him and he sighs, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, well. Problem is. I could be sleeping in a bed right now" Dean groans. I look at the window to Jenny's room, she's banging on her window and it looks like she's screaming "Help!".
I nudge Sam roughly. "Sam. Dean!" I exclaim and we all rush out of the car. "You two grab the kids. I'll get Jenny!" He tells us as we run up the porch and knock the front door down. I run into Richies room and grab him, holding him to my chest. "Help! Please!" I hear screaming from Saris room.
When I run in I see Sam standing stunned at the door, what looks like a figure of a man in bursting flames while Sari is on her bed screaming for help. Sam rushes in and I hold Richie to my chest, clutching him closely. "Come here. Come here. Don't look. Don't look" He goes in and gets Sari, picking her up on his hip and we all run downstairs.
Sam rests down Sari and I rest down Richie when we get downstairs. "Alright. Sari. Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back okay, sweetie?" I tell her gently. Suddenly something grabs me and Sam by our feet, pulling up down the hall causing Sari to scream. Grabbing her brother she runs outside where Dean and Jenny should be.
The force pulls us, dragging us across the hall and into the kitchen, knocking us into the table. The force throws us all across the room, into the fridge, into the wall, across the floor, into the counter, like we're rag dolls. Me and Sam groan in pain getting to our feet.
We hear the door getting knocked doing, assuming it's Dean we go to bolt for the door but the force grabs us again, throwing us into the wall and we grunt in pain. "God dammit!" I scream, trying to pull out of the force as Sam does the same but fails while screaming.
The door finally breaks and we hear Dean yell, "SAM! Y/N!". But the flaming figure that we saw in Sari's room earlier appears again in front of us, making its way slowly to us. Our faces contort in pure fear. I look at the figure properly, my heart beating out of its chest when it comes into view clearly.
It was familiar...too familiar. A face I only saw in old pictures. "What the fuck?" Sam whispers stunned. "No fucking way" I breath out in shock. "Sam? Y/N?" We hear Deans footsteps and voice in the house. When he walks into room and aims his gun at the figure, ready to shoot.
"No! Don't! Don't!" Me and Sam yell for him to stop. "What? Why?!" Dean yells back in confusion. "Because we know who it is" Sam says. "We can see her now" I say and the figure diminishes the fire to reveal...Mary. Sam and Deans mom. Dean lowers his gun in shock, fear, confusion. "Mom?" Dean says softly. Mary takes a few steps closer to him with a small smile on her face.
"Dean" She says sweetly and tears well up in Deans eyes. She then walks over to Sam who has breathing is rugged but smiles tearfully looking at his mother. "Sam" She says softly and then turns to me, the smile growing wider on her face. "Y/N" She says nicely, tears welling up in her eyes when she turns back to Sam.
"I'm sorry" She says apologetically to him, tears streaming down both our faces. "For what?" Sam asks tearfully and she doesn't answer, she just has this look of guilt on her face. She then turns and looks up to where Sams nursery was. "You get out of my house. And let go on my son and his best friend" She demanding tone.
Right after she says this, flames engulf her own body and the burst of flames fly up to the ceiling. The boys and I try to turn our heads away but we're too stunned by what's happening. After that, the force that was pinning us to the wall falters and we're free.
The weight on my chest that I felt earlier was suddenly gone. The brooding darkness that was there, erased. We look around, gasping for breath. "Mom?" Dean whispers, looking around. Sam and I walk forwards from against the wall, "Now it's over" I say to the boys nodding.
________________________________
The next day after the events in their old house, the boys and I are outside by the Impala and Jenny hands Dean some of the old pictures she found of their family. There's one with a young John and Mary, one with my parents when they were young, another with all of our parents, one with a four year old Dean holding 6 month old Sam and another with Dean holding a 6 month old me.
Dean smiles at the photo and looks at Jenny, "Thanks for these" He says gratefully. "Don't thank me, they're yours" She responds with a smile. He hands me the picture and I put it in a box with their old stuff, I walk back up to the steps by the front door where Sam is sitting and I take a seat next to him, leaving Jenny and Dean to talk.
"Well, there are no spirits in there anymore" Missouri tells us as she exits the front door. "This time for sure" She assures us confidently, taking a seat next to me. "Not even my mom?" Sam asks. "No" Missouri says softly, shaking her head and Sam nods. "What happened?" I ask her.
"Mary's spirt and the poltergeist's energy, they cancelled each other out" She explains to us and then looks at Sam. "Your mom destroyed herself going after the thing" Missouri says sadly. "Why would she do something like that?" Sam asks tearfully. "Well to protect her boys and their best friend, of course" She assures us and we nod with tears in our eyes.
"Sam...Y/N, I'm sorry" She apologizes. "For what?" Sam asks a bit confused. "You two sensed it here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't" She tells us. "What's happening to us?" Sam asks. "I know I should have all the answers but....I don't know" Missouri says honestly. "Am I psychic like my mom?" I ask her shakily.
"It's possible. Very possible. Even if you don't want the gift, it's yours to bear. Only time will tell" She says softly, I drop my head nodding."Sam, Y/N. You guys ready?" We hear Dean call out to us. We get up and walk towards the Impala. "Thanks Sam and Y/N" Jenny thanks us and we give her a nod.
"Don't you kids be strangers" Missouri calls out to us. I turn to her with a small smile on my face. "We won't" Dean says smiling back at her. "See you around" She says and Jenny gives us a small wave. We hop into Baby, Sam in shotgun and me in the back, Dean starts the ignition and we're off.
________________________________
Third Person POV
Missouri enters her shop, closing the door behind her. She feels presences in her home, resting her bag down she sighs. "That boy and that girl. I mean, they have such powerful abilities. Why they couldn't sense their own fathers, I have no idea" She says, turning around in the seats where Sam, Dean and Y/N were earlier is John Winchester and F/N L/N in their place.
John takes his face out of his hands and looks at Missouri. "Mary's spirit? Do you really think she saved the kids?" John asks her, clasping his hands infront of him. "I do" Missouri confirms and John looks down at his wedding band tearfully.
"And M/N's spirit. Was she there at all?" F/N asks a bit hopefully but Missouri shakes her head. "I can assure you, she's resting peacefully. I've made note of that" She assures him, tears in her eyes thinking of her deceased friend. "John Winchester and F/N L/N I could just slap you two. Why don't you two go talk to your children?!" She angrily shouts at the grown men.
"We want to" F/N says shaking his head, John still looking down at his wedding band tearfully. "You have no idea how much we wanna see them. But we can't" John says, looking up. "I just want to see my little girl, and give her a hug. But not yet" F/N says, holding back tears. They both look over at Missouri.
"Not until we know the truth" John says, determined.
________________________________
Authors Note: This chapter is unedited so please excuse any mistake, I will be editing it when I get a chance. I hope whoever is reading enjoys!! I really do pray you guys love Y/N's character because bits and pieces of her personality come from me. I'm having so much fun writing this so don't be ghost readersss so please comment and tell me your thoughts and opinions.
Next chapter is out in a couple days so be sure to look out for that.
Xoxo.
#dean winchester#spn#sam winchester#supernatural#supernatural reader insert#supernatural fandom#supernatural tv show#supernatural fanfiction#dean and sam#sam and dean#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester fanfiction
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do you get past writer's block? I have a fic that I'm working on that is updating on a schedule, and I made the mistake of giving myself a month off in between parts and now I can't really get back into writing it. I don't want to leave it abandoned because I have a few people who I know are really invested and I don't want to leave them hanging, but I'm having a hard time getting as excited to write it as I did before.
Ok so I'm in a weird place for this, hilariously. Because The Answer That Usually Works For Me (TM) and that carried me through a regular weekly update schedule for almost two and a half years is, in fact, not at present working for me apparently my brain can write through a pandemic but not through recovery from the shit that went down in December/Jan so we found my writing kryptonite. However, I'm going to assume you're closer to 2021 Pasta than 2024 Pasta. SO LET'S GO WITH THE METHOD I NORMALLY USE SINCE IT WAS SUCCESSFUL FOR YEARS. Cause that's the thing: sure, I've written almost a million words, and pumped out chapters for years (ignoring the past few months) but I promise, I hit the same walls as everyone else even when nailing weekly uploads. But over those years, I came up with a fairly solid list of steps that I'd go through one by one.
Fun one first: when I'm in a block, I almost always try re-engaging with canon first. I'd rewatch my favorite episodes, binge a whole season, or even the whole series depending on how much of a boost I needed. For me at least that was often like Pavlov's bell, my favorite story triggering a flood of affection. I'd remember why I loved this fandom and the characters so much, and it could often kickstart my brain and excitement back into gear. If you really want to dangle a carrot and your fic touches on canon, focus on watching parts you're excited to get to in your story. A big one for me in TRT for example was the post-Nobu, Nelson v. Murdock episode, since I'd had that planned for TRT almost since the start, and I was very excited to reach the hurt/comfort I had planned. Even if your fic isn't following canon though, see if it'll give you a creative rush again!
So let's say step 1 doesn't work, either because the canon just isn't hitting the spot or because your fic is dealing with something else. In this case, my next step was usually to jump ahead to write a scene I was really eager to get to. It was often a short blurb, but it was always something I REALLY wanted to explore, and because I'm also a reader who likes exactly the tropes and plots I'm writing, I want to read what fucking happens. Except, fuck, I'm not there yet, am I? And I can't see how that scene finishes until I write my way up to it and finish it. This is my own carrot. Multiple scenes in TRT were written months or even years in advance, simply as a way to bribe myself. This is also an option!
But maybe this doesn't work. Sometimes it didn't. This is when it got a bit more serious. For anyone who was reading at the time, you'd have noticed that I'd sometimes drop side fics, either Matt POVs or one-shots. This was me, in essence, working on the shower principle (basically, ideas/solutions will come if you stop thinking about it and do something else, like take a shower). I figured if I went and wrote something else - either with less stress, or something fun and dopamine-inducing - the part of my brain focused on my Big Fic would wander around the writer's block beneath my notice. And it almost always worked, all while I still kept my brain trained that, hey, even if we're not writing This Thing, we're still writing.
But let's say this doesn't work either. You're well, and truly, stuck. Been there now and then. And, you're going to hate this one. I hate it but it works 9 times of 10. And it is:
Write anyway.
Half of it was spite. I was not going to give up my schedule, I liked my schedule. The other half was that I knew myself. I knew if I could just get past the chapter/plot/dialogue I was struggling with, I'd be able to roll along again. And so I made a rule: whatever I wrote didn't have to be pretty. It just had to exist. If that meant I wrote, "Jane chased the cat in circles and caught it. She was happy." then that's what I wrote. Because everything, EVERYTHING, can be fixed in editing. But you can't fix what doesn't exist. And so there were those nights when I would scowl and groan and snarl and bash my head against that writer's block until 5 in the morning, but in the end Jane chased that fucking cat adn caught it, it was written. Hilariously, sometimes those chapters have wound up amazing (likely because I spent so much time hammering at them) and reader favorites. There are absolutely, I believe, moments where you can, and should, see if you can push through.
But that brings me to *waves* now. A lesson I've only recently recently and with encouragement. Namely... sometimes brain no go and that's ok. My steps work for me 99.9% of the time, but I've done the above during the past few months, and it just... hasn't dragged me out entirely out of it yet. Sometimes, our brains demand that break, especially when things just aren't going great. There's a reason TRT had a break of roughly 2 years between chapter 4 and chapter 5 (feel free to check the chapter index with dates on AO3!). I had some life things happening and I just was not in a place to write, even if I was still busily plotting and planning and thinking about TRT behind the scenes. And that was ok. We're not machines. I came back like a bulldozer in Jan 2021, yes, and bulldozed through weekly updates, but that break was needed. And now I'm obviously taking a short one again while I recover from everything. It's ok if you're not in a place for it. So the last step is one I've been told a lot by dear friends recently as they helped me through this: be kind to yourself, and try not to stress if none of the above works. The story will always be there, and if TRT is any indication through all its highs and lows, your readers will be there when you start up again.
#writer's block#i am on step five if that's not obvious and that's ok#steps 1-4 got me through about 2 years of writing and over a hundred chapters. damn near a mill words.#so i'm VERY confident it works most of the time#or it does for me anyway#just. you know. not all the time#what's funny is i suspect if you read all of trt knowing the above#you'll SEE these moments#moments where i clearly hit a chapter i'd written ahead of time cause it had more detail or more excitement radiating in my notes#alternatively no one has any idea which ones are which which is even funnier to me#look i do not judge *anyone* who just can't do weekly chapter#the pandemic was a weird period where i had the time to do that and the management required to keep up with it outside then is intense#like it's possible. i was doing it before shit started going sideways last year cause that was NOT my year basically from july onwards#but just be kind to yourself about it#the story will come#and your readers will be there for it
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
okay. been thinking about double life mecha AUs because there's some really good pacific rim AUs out there that make me want to chew on drywall. let's. attempt putting thoughts to words:
not really thinking about pacific rim specifically on account of I Haven't Finished That Movie. the drift thing sounds cool, i am generally willing to trust that it can be / is an interesting analogue for soulbonds. people should tell me if this is true / false.
also thinking about the way friends at the table tends to talk about mechs. Mechs Are About Bodies. what bodies do we think are beautiful / terrifying / grotesque. what do we think of as a human body. how do we talk about bodies and machines and where are the [blurred lines / overlaps / divergences]. this can be interesting when considered next to double life on account of [minecraft bodies are weird]? the only way to really interact with them is. distantly or violently. you can throw someone a thing but you can't put that thing in their hand directly. you can punch someone but you can't hold them. you can stand in front of someone but that doesn't necessarily stop them from moving past / through you. i don't have more of a thing here but this could be Interesting To Play With.
thinking about neon genesis evangelion's thing where their mechs are explicitly an attempt to copy a technology / being that they didn't quite understand that was capable of destroying the world. connected to this, thinking about minecraft as a game whose history clearly contains Something Happening. the ruins and the ancient cities and so much of it overgrown and wrecked. i like the idea of their mechs being something they copied the shape of but not the purpose. like, these things used to be used for games and now they are for war?
("sparrow are you implying the existence of mech sports" yeah have you ever seen friends at the table's bonus episode where they play Sports Are Just Numerology and invent mech sports. it's good and important and There's Precedent. you're lucky i didn't try to bring Mech Fishing into this.)
related to the point about games, opening sentence that struck me and never went anywhere: "It works just like the old games: three strikes and you're out." (about martyn trying to save grian, trying to save ren, trying to save cleo, and then failing or being rejected at each turn and giving up and killing scott. the realization that grian didn't want / need to be saved from scar in 3rd life. the dying right after ren did trying to kill desert duo in that season's finale, and also i hear whispers about helping ren out with a fire in his base in last life? thinking cleo needs to be convinced / saved from scott in double life and being told no, cleo suggested this and wanted it. hell, even as its own thing separate from mechs, this is not completely nothing.)
considering a scene where cleo, fed up with whatever nonsense martyn's doing, asks what he's even trying to accomplish, and martyn answers, "I'm going to get us out of here." which. implies some things. i haven't bothered fleshing out those things.
mech names. shoutout to Thunderbirds_and_Lightning for Slingshot Eden and Flower Delta. shoutout to friends at the table for Belgard and Stray Dog and a million other incredible names that i'm forgetting. wouldn't it be fun to have names that refer to each part of the pair. Mawseed:Brachiate. Calotrope:Diffusion. wouldn't it be fun to put them next to each other ostensibly joined but still visibly separated by something. consider the ways this can be like soulmates.
okay 100% this one is a porn premise but thinking about that post that's like "mech pilots aren't horny because of the joy of meeting your equal in battle or whatever, they're horny because the mechs have direct connections to their nervous systems and inextricably link violence / destruction to being pumped full of dopamine / oxytocin" and martyn getting fucked up while still connected to the mech and later showing up on cleo's doorstep talking about how his brain's gotten scrambled and asking them to hurt him because it's the only thing that feels good anymore and they're the only one who gets it. (alternatively, asking to have someone to hurt. alternatively alternatively, neither of them quite actually wants to be the one getting hurt but also they are the only ones who understand each other about this so they suck it up and deal and remind themselves they'll get their turn later.)
actually. direct nervous system connection to the mech is Also something that would be fun and interesting to play with just in full generality. i don't have more here but like. You Can Make This Upsetting (tone: having fun :] ). (Mechs Are About Bodies: what bodies count as bodies? what's a fair punching bag and what needs careful maintenance and how might a war adjust those priorities? -- thinking also about that one ttrpg that has a move specifically called Meat Is Cheap; Save The Metal.)
also thinking about that post about. mech pilots should be more visibly changed by their connections to their mechs? like. can't keep down food that isn't This One Specific Nutrient Paste. visibly haggard and also drippy from spending so much time in the cockpit filled with the fluid that lets them interface with the mech. clearly moving in ways and with the force necessitated by a giant body of metal, even when not in that giant metal body. cleo and martyn using each other as mirrors, tracking the other's deterioration (comparing it against their own?) and feeling some type of way about it? could do miserable (delightful) sickfic about this.
related to above: (1) cleo and martyn as mirrors of each other ("we're both survivors"). (2) that thing about not having mirrors causing you to kind of forgetting you're a person (and this also, is about mechs, because when you make a world with mechs it is probably good to ask: 'are mechs people?' AND 'are the people put inside mechs considered people?' thank you austin walker for your list of mech questions.).
#sparrowsong#let's be clear: i'm not going to write any of this.#if someone else sees something here and wants to write it. please. take this idea / these ideas from me.#although. honestly i am satisfied with this post being the end of it. here you go.#at least the thoughts have been recorded for others' perusal.#looking at this and going 'wow i really only one (1) influence huh'
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
[tv review] star trek: picard, season 3
next stop on the "catching up with reviews" train, we did finally get around to season 3 of picard about a month ago. it really is a testament to how uninspiring the first two seasons were that we, two lifelong star trek fans and one fairly enthusiastic convert, just really didn't feel any urgency to get to it.
season 3 is probably the best season of picard, but it's still not… great? but in all fairness, it was probably just never going to be.
when i first heard there was a picard-led series being developed, i was cautiously excited. when it was announced and the title was literally just "star trek: picard," i thought that was, well… weird? there's just something thoroughly un-star trek about this kind of singular focus on a character rather than a place or a group of people.
before i start sounding relentlessly negative, there were things i liked about season 3. and i enjoyed the experience of watching it much better than the previous two seasons. but it just felt really similar to like rise of skywalker where i just resigned myself to how dumb it was and enjoyed it almost in spite of itself. and it could easily have killed my enthusiasm for the future of the franchise in a similar way if there weren't so many other great things going on at the moment. picard really is a pretty glaring outlier compared to literally every other nutrek series (minus the first season of disco, which was still miles better than picard at its best).
but yeah, let’s move on from general commentary and go episode by episode.
3x01 "the next generation"
first of all my absolute favorite thing about this season is the sheer amount of jonathan frakes we get. this cannot be overstated. jonathan frakes is a national treasure, and i am blown away that i underappreciated will riker so thoroughly when i grew up on tng. he's just the hecking best.
shaw's introduction was fucking fantastic, and i love how his character went from just uncomplicatedly hateable to lovably hateable over the course of the season. just truly great stuff.
i love how laris is in this for literally like a second and then is never mentioned again for the rest of the show. like, we would have been better off if their last scene together had been the wordless ending of season 2, and we could just assume they broke up offscreen between seasons or that they had hot, steamy sex but decided that a relationship wasn’t in the cards. idk. seemed pretty pointless.
overall, though, this premiere had me cautiously optimistic for the season as a whole.
b-rank
3x02 "disengage"
this episode focuses on two characters who end up being much better than they should be thanks largely to acting.
in the case of jack it's mostly the acting of patrick stewart & gates mcfadden around him. like, that silent moment between them when she nonverbally confirms that jack is jean luc’s son is one of the all-time great moments of acting in the entire series. and as much as i fundamentally disagree with a lot of the writing around this entire story, mcfadden & stewart act their ASSES off throughout this story, and it makes the material seem a lot better than it actually is.
vadic is a character of incredible (and largely squandered) narrative promise who gets shuffled out of the way in favor of a much more boring late-season endgame. more on that last bit later. the show does give her plenty of opportunities to chew the heck out of the scenery in the meantime. despite being one of those always-frustrating examples of the writing on this show overpromising & underdelivering, vadic nevertheless manages to claim a spot as one of the most memorable star trek villains thanks to a truly incredible performance by amanda plummer.
lastly, i freaking LOVE the heroic introduction this episode gives worf. i literally pumped my fist and cheered.
b-rank
3x03 "seventeen seconds"
first of all, i just want to pause & acknowledge that it was really nice seeing riker in the center seat even if i really don’t like what the show decided to do with it.
frakes & picard act their asses off in this episode but i just don’t really buy the writing that got them to that point. like, it feels like the show really wanted both characters to have that Moment so they could get their epiphanies out of it in the next episode, but the moment itself fell very flat for me because i just didn’t believe in it.
much better was crusher’s argument with picard. i came into the argument fully behind picard in terms of “hey, not telling someone you had a kid with him is pretty fucked up, bev!” but after beverly explained her reasons i was fully able to see where she was coming from.
i still have a seriously hard time believing that crusher would have ghosted picard and all of her best friends who she went through so much with, but that’s kind of just the same exact baked-in problem that i have with this entire series. but i’ll come back to that when we get to the finale, i think.
the other big thing to mention here is that i don't love that this damn franchise found yet another excuse to reduce dr. crusher's personality to dr. mom. but at least she gets more juicy material to work with throughout the season for the most part.
i also think the changeling reveal ruled. like, at this point i was way more optimistic about the direction of the season. like, oh, changelings! we’re finally doing something that isn’t the borg! (… sigh. we’ll come back to it.)
c-rank
3x04 “no win scenario”
this episode has some great character writing, a great star trekky solution to a star trekky problem, and some blessed star trekky optimism. i wish i could say that the show was ever this good again.
shaw’s face turn starts here. his speech about having met picard before–at wolf 359–really changes our perceptions of him. he’s still dead wrong to blame picard for that, but it does certainly shed a new light on his immediate hostility towards picard. but turning that speech back on him and saying that he needs shaw’s help “even though [he’s] just an asshole from chicago” was a great moment for picard, and also a great moment in retrospect for shaw, because i think that’s the exact moment where he stopped being a hateable asshole and started his journey toward being Our loveable asshole.
the escape from the nebula (and the shrike) is a fist-pumpingly awesome scene. it’s the moment when i turned to my partners and said, “hey! they remembered to put some star trek in their star trek show!” probably the best moment of the whole series, tbh. and between that and how good the next episode is, i was actually just starting to have some hope for this damn show. sigh. to be continued.
a-rank
3x05 “imposters”
i’m going to be brief because my feelings about this are very simple.
i was NOT expecting to see ro laren again, or for the show to deliver such a resoundingly perfect conclusion to her story. this might very well be the best thing this show ever did, and i genuinely think that in spite of everything, it might make the whole rest of this damn show worth it.
a-rank
3x06 “the bounty”
transition episode. mind the loudly clanging pieces being noisily moved around the board.
shaw being a geordi fanboy was cute, though. and oh hey geordi works at a spacedock full of old starships, i’m sure that won’t have any future bearing on the plot or anything.
c-rank
3x07 “dominion”
vadic kicks ass at the “captured villain who wanted to be captured” scenery chewing, picard & beverly considering going against everything they’ve ever believed in & fought to uphold to execute her in cold blood was gross.
i’m very tired.
b-rank
3x08 “surrender”
data defeating lore by not fighting him fucking ruled. i hope the rest of the main characters in this stupid fucking show were taking notes.
riker & troi dumping on nepenthe really made me roll my eyes pretty hard, considering the episode of the same name was the best damn episode of this entire fucking show, and the idea of riker living out in the wilderness cooking pizza in his outdoor pizza oven made me so fucking happy. and riker & troi both seemed so happy & secure, their warmth really helped picard find his way through a dark moment in his life, and troi was treated with much more respect by that single episode than she is in an entire season of what was billed as essentially tng season 8. there are PLENTY of things about every season of this damn show that deserve to be harshed on and you pick the ONE THING that doesn’t? ffs.
and then vadic, the poorly-written but superbly-performed villain that made this whole damn show actually kinda work… just fucking dies??? with two episodes left to go?
uh-oh.
b-rank
3x09 “vox” & 3x10 “the last generation”
as soon as troi started probing jack’s mind to figure out what his secret was at the end of the last episode, i said, “it’s gonna be the borg.” as soon as this episode picked it back up, i said, “it’s gonna be the borg.” as soon as the vision started taking shape and deanna rushed out of the room in horror without further explanation, i said, “it’s gonna be the fucking borg, just like every other fucking thing on this stupid fucking show.”
it’s funny. i don’t like how serialized the storytelling is within the seasons of this show, but despite the storytelling being so damn serialized, the seasons themselves like actively go out of their way to just totally ignore everything that happened in previous seasons or else treat it like an inconvenience? when, isn’t the ONE benefit of serialized storytelling supposed to be that the story stays consistent?
like, i gotta tell you, i liked what the first season did with the borg the best out of any of the three. the entire focus on exbies was brilliant, and seven having to overcome all her fear & trauma to be willing to function temporarily as a queen was actually a better culmination of shit that happened in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SHOW than this show handled any tng thing that wasn’t ro laren?
i was… somewhat ok with what the second season did with the borg mainly because it featured seven as an even more prominent player, and seemed like it would take the borg off the board for the final season, and while the season was mostly un-star trekky the fact that picard needed to trust this new version of the borg and make peace with them was actually genuinely pretty cool?
but then we just bring back the borg YET AGAIN, and just… WHY? what did this accomplish? how are we any better off than we were at the end of season 2?
and just… the version of the borg here are actually the MOST BORING version? like, they’re just what i guess the showrunners decided was a Big Enough threat to be a worthwhile reveal, and i’m just… So. Tired.
i did like a few things about this stupid fucking two-episode borg digression. probably chief among them was worf being all protective of riker because i will ship riker/worf until the day i’m cremated. i also liked the very last scene of the series where picard and his crew play poker together. but i think it’s just frustratingly appropriate given my big picture issues with this entire show that this whole three season misadventure led to us getting back to THE LAST SCENE OF STAR TREK THE NEXT GENERATION, you know, that perfectly good ending these characters had already had, an ending that was completely squandered by a show that decided that picard just forgot all the lessons he spent seven seasons learning.
i’m just so over it, man. i’m going to rank these last two episodes exactly what i would rate this series as a whole, and move on with my life.
c-rank
s-rank: 0
a-rank: 2
b-rank: 4
c-rank: 4
d-rank: 0
average: 2.8 (c-rank)
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm posting a rant about my job below the cut. Feel free to keep on with your scrolling, I just need to get this shit out of my brain.
I like my job. I work with some wonderful people and things tend to be very interesting daily. Plus, it has decent health insurance.
I also hate my job. It's boring as hell and has 0% in common with what I'd actually like to do with my life. My big project lately has been to check on the price difference for office supplies between 2 online sources (today's specific product was label maker tape). I also get paid shit. I could probably make more working at a grocery store, but I prefer being able to sit during my shift; also, again, healthcare).
Plus, the way things have been going lately, it has me stressed out to the point of blackout episodes. I lost my debit card last week and realized I didn't know how I got from pumping gas to the restaurant. Somewhere on that route I lost my card.
And since I'm barely 6 months in, I have all of 2 vacation days, and I'm already using one of them for a well needed trip next month. Sick time doesn't kick in yet either for another 6 months or so.
They also make me feel like crap for taking time off for doctors appointments. There's no actual retaliation they can do, as I put in for the (unpaid) time off ahead of time and make up my hours by going in early as necessary, but you are made to feel like you're not working as hard as others. (Pro tip: if you want above and beyond work and commitment to the company over my own health, you better be paying me a whole lot more than $13/hr.)
So here I am, looking for jobs again. Job searching and job working while not letting your work know about the search is very hard and makes my stress level even higher. Which means my blackout rate is probably about to skyrocket.
But the "good news" my 6 month review: a raise (still have no choice but to live with my mom, but yay, my bank account likely won't be overdrawn as often) and encouragement to "keep applying for higher positions within the company" because "I fit in well and have the potential".
The first chance I get I'm taking that "potential" and jumping fucking ship.
My goal is to not last a fucking year with this company, let alone multiple years. But then again, my goal was also to get a job within 6 months of graduating college, and that took more than 9.
#sorry for ranting#job problems#i hate my job#someone please help lol#I'll do anything but sales#i could use a hug right about now
0 notes
Text
She Who Shan’t Be Named - Part 4 | Sweetheart (Steve x Reader)
Category: Smut
(Mandatory) Age: 18+
Trigger Warnings: Explicit language, intercourse, suggestive language, casual sexual actions, flirting with a lot of people
Ship: Steve x Reader
Summary: Tony lets his life-long friend crash at the Avengers HQ while she has nowhere else to go. What could go wrong with so many attractive individuals living in the same home?
Word Count: 1.4k
Masterlist: LINK
(hmu if you want adding to the tag-list for this series)
---
“Knock knock.” Steve’s voice echoes in the living room where (Y/N) is alone, sat watching some show on Netflix and eating a bowl of pasta.
“Afternoon, Cap.” She greets, flashing a wink his way.
The man laughs and shakes his head.
“Afternoon, (Y/N). How’re you doing? You settling in okay?”
“As courteous as ever, Steven.” She avoids his question.
His grin remains as he approaches the couches.
“May I?” He asks, gesturing to the couch across from her.
“Are you asking me permission to sit in the living room of your own home?” Her voice is half-serious half-joking.
He laughs nonetheless and takes a seat.
“I’m trying to make you feel comfortable.” Steve offers.
“You’re Captain America, I don’t think there’s much you can do to make me feel uncomfortable.”
Another chuckle.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“You can hold me to a lot of things.”
“What?”
“What?” She mimics, Steve smirking and shaking his head.
“What’re you watching?” He asks, trying to make conversation.
“Nothing you’d know, old man.”
Another laugh.
He relishes in it for a moment. The happiness. The genuine, relaxed atmosphere as he feels carefree and welcomed.
“Try me.”
“Big Bang Theory.”
“Hey, I know that one! Tony hates it.” Cap boasts, (Y/N) giggling herself.
“I know, that’s half the reason I love it so much.”
More laughter.
What Steve doesn’t notice is the way the woman spends more time eyeing his body up and down. The way his biceps are on full display, along with his abs, in the tight light blue t-shirt he’s wearing. The way she’s imagining what his beard feels like against her lips. And the other lips.
Sitting her pasta bowl down on the coffee table, she stands up and approaches the blond, watching his eyes lock with hers, eyebrows quirked in curiosity of her movements.
She stops directly in front of him and he’s all too curious.
“You okay?”
“When was the last time you fucked anyone, Steve?”
His eyes widen and he almost chokes on his own saliva at the question.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard, Rogers.”
She maneuvers herself so her knees are bent on either side of the man’s thighs, sitting on his lap.
His arms are almost up in surrender, not daring to touch the woman.
“Did I stutter?”
No. But he does.
“I, uh, you- what’re you doing?”
“Waiting for an answer.”
“God. Uhm, a while? Like three or four years ago.” He confesses, still looking bewildered at the woman.
“Was it good?” The woman continues, leaning forward so her chest is pressed against his, her lips by his ear. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I- what- it was alright.” Steve stumbles over his words.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Captain?” Her voice is no louder than a whisper, her breath making goosebumps prick his skin in the room that’s almost too hot.
“Not quite the word I’d use.” He manages.
“No? What word would you use?”
He hesitates again, eyes widening even more so as she gently takes his hands in her own and rests them on her hips.
“I don’t know.” Steve whispers, locking eyes with her once she’s pulled back enough to do so.
“May I kiss you, Steven Rogers?” She asks, whilst she wants this and is confident, she doesn’t want to do anything to make the man in front of her uncomfortable.
He opens his mouth a few times before deciding on the right answer.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I’m always full of good ideas, Captain. Allow yourself to indulge in a little bit of fun every now and then.” (Y/N) whispers, leaning forwards and pressing a gentle kiss to the man’s lips, feeling him reciprocate it instantly.
His hands squeeze her hips just that bit tighter when he does, the woman internally grinning at the feeling.
She pushes the boat out and kisses him harder. Deeper. Faster. Wanting to see where his limits are.
Their breathing is heavy, Steve taking over the kiss without even realising it himself.
She slowly pulls back and loves the way he follows her, not wanting to stop.
“Look at the state of you, Stevie.”
The nickname makes a small whimper escape his mouth as he pulls back and meets her eyes once more, looking half guilty half desperate.
“I- I’m sorry, I don’t know-”
“None of that. I don’t want you to be sorry, Cap, I want to know how much you want it.” She teases, voice husky as her hands reach up to his face, stroking his beard.
The man gulps.
“I don’t think this is a good idea. Stark will-”
“This isn’t about Stark; this is about you and me, Rogers. He doesn’t need to know.”
She presses her lips to his again, grinding down on man so very subtly, but enough to feel the growing shaft in his jeans.
“Fuck,” Steve whispers between kisses, the pair pausing as they enjoy the feeling of her movements.
“Language.”
He can’t help the smile that forms at her comment. He squeezes her hips a little harder.
“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta stop. You’re gonna-”
“Gonna what, huh, Cap? Gonna make you horny? Gonna make you hard? Gonna make you fuck me?” She interrupts, actions becoming more and more needy with every word she speaks.
“Fuck, (Y/N).” He groans, head lolling back onto the sofa.
“Not an answer, Steve.”
“We really shouldn’t.”
“Fuck me, Cap.”
And that’s his limit.
He tosses the woman aside so she’s on her back on the sofa, adjusting himself so he’s hovering over her.
Her eyes glisten with anticipation as the man unbuckles his jeans before unzipping them, yanking them down enough to reach for his, now, rock-hard cock.
“Turns out that America’s Sweetheart isn’t so sweet after all.” (Y/N) teases, hoping to get him a little riled up.
“Shut up.” He manages to groan, yanking down her leggings and panties in one go. “How’re you so wet already?”
The vulgar words coming from a man like Captain America do something indescribable to her core.
“Can you blame me, Cap?”
He groans again, leaning over the woman and pumping his shaft a few times as he admires her body beneath him.
“Oh, you like that one, huh?” She teases, noticing how he reacts whenever she uses the title.
“God, will you shut up?” The man whispers, not at all harsh, rather begging.
“Or else, what, Captain?”
With that, he presses his cock to her entrance and slides in slowly. Inch by inch. And there’s a lot.
“Fuck!” Steve growls as he sheaths himself inside her.
(Y/N)’s eyes roll to the back of her head at how big he is. She genuinely hasn’t been this full in her life.
“Language.” She barely manages, but it’s quickly followed by a gasp and a moan as he pulls out and slams back into her.
She swears the man just shattered her cervix.
“Fuck, Steve!” She moans, hands wrapping around the man, nails digging into his clothed back.
“Language yourself.” He manages through clenched teeth. “God, you feel so fucking good.”
“Yeah? Is this just alright for you?” Her voice is mocking but struggling as he continues to pump in and out of her.
“You’re far more than alright, sweetheart.”
The words catch her off-guard but she pays no mind as she indulges herself in how good the man feels.
“Feels so good, Stevie.” She whimpers, Steve groaning and fucking her harder and harder, sweat forming on his face but he doesn’t care.
He’s never felt so good.
“Yeah? God, sweetheart, can feel you squeezing me.”
Filth.
“Want you to make me cum, Cap.”
Another moan from the man, cursing under his breath.
“Better yet, I want your cum in my mouth.”
“Fuck, (Y/N), you’re killin’ me.”
They’re going at it for a few moments longer before Steve is stuttering that he’s gonna cum.
Without second thought, the woman pushes herself back, dropping to her knees on the carpeted ground and opening her mouth wide, tongue sticking out.
Steve groans once again at the sight and pumps himself until he’s moaning her name and blowing his load into her mouth, (Y/N) making sure that she doesn’t miss a drop.
“Not bad for America’s Sweetheart.” She states once they both catch their breath.
Steve chuckles once again, redoing up his trousers and helping the woman up off of the floor.
“You’re gonna do things to every person in this building, you know that?” He smiles, both collapsing onto the couch and leaning on one another, eyes moving back to the TV where the next episode of her show is on.
“That’s the plan, Cap.”
Another laugh.
“We’re glad to have you, sweetheart.”
---
Everything Tag List: @nosoulnoproblems | @rileyloves5 | @girl-who-loves-mythology | @avngrsinitiative | @lookinsidemyhead |@xbabykookiix | @myspectacularfantasies | @fanfic-anyone | @rororo06 | @queenofbuskers | @vapingisntmything | @tony-stank3 | @hermione-grangers-wife | @lili-ann-love | @the-omni-princess | @tayahs-blog | @regulus-black | @saturnsteverogers| @fyfiexo | @amazingiam00 | @deviltownn | @buckybarneses | @fafulous | roryshitposts | trynnabemultifandom | @moodboreddd | @hopingforbarnes | @an-adventureland | justassaneasiam-ll | @profoundllamanickeleggs | @xbongox | @minetticatinwonderland | @thinkaboutmara | @xxaestheticboyxx | @sparklycollectionofoldmemes | @wandaneedstherapy | @georgiadixon | @nerdy-thespian-10 | @nsb-supertrio | @thinkaboutmara | @captainamerica-is-bae | @spookyparadisesheep | @supernaturallover2002 | @notsochillnerd | @peggycarter-steverogers | @reann-shitposting | @mrsstevenbuchananstark | @jessromanoff | @ynscrazylife |
#Marvel#MCU#Steve x Reader#Steve Rogers#Captain America#Bucky Barnes#The Winter Soldier#Natasha Romanoff#Black Widow#Tony Stark#Iron Man#Peter Parker#Spider Man#Smut#Marvel Smut#Cap x Reader#Steve x Reader Smut#Falcon#Sam Wilson#Hawkeye#Scarlet Witch#Clint Barton
124 notes
·
View notes
Text
Falcon and the winter soldier spoilers/liveblogging
- not to jump the gun but the episode synopsis says “John walker faces consequences” and YES
- oooh Bucky is NOT vibing with that blood on the shield (as he shouldn’t)
- SAM💞 yeS YES GIVE SAM THE SHIELD
- “yeah we do” YESYES FIGHT FIGHT GET THAT SHIELD
- BUCKY HAS THE SHIELD I REPEAT BUCKY HAS THE SHIELD oh no his arm 🥺
-“ I am Captain American” FUCK. OFF. OFF WITH HIS HEAD ALREADY OMG
- YES Bucky save your bff
- YES sam save your bff
- omg them pRYING OFF THE SHEILD AND BREAKING HIS ARM WAS AMAZING WHY DID THAT FEEL SO GOID TO WATCH WOW IM PUMPED
-ITS NOT YOUR SHIEld BACK TF OFF also SAM USED THE SHEILD YES
- oooh that shot of Bucky over John and the sunlight and him returning the SHEILD to Sam was *chefs kiss*
- was...was.. the ripping of the wings and getting the shield foreshadowing him becoming the next cap?/someone else taking on falcon?
- “hey you got your sleeve back” Torres is adorable I love him he’s an innocent sweetie
- WHAT WHY DONT PEOPLE KNOW THAT HE TORE SAMS WINGS? HE NEEDS TO GET THE APPROPRIATE BLAME
- Torres TOUCHING THE WINGS 🚨 (new falcon?👀) “KEEP EM” HE SAID KEEP EM OOOOOOH
- the lady is sketch but I love that the government does not own the shield
- ok but Isaiah literally did what Steve did (ie free fellow soldiers) AND WAS PUNISHED FOR IT IM ANGRY A
- “but we’re gonna do it our own way” Bucky is CONSISTENT with this King behaviour
- YAY BUCKY GAVE HIM TO THE DORA that was the right thing to do
- “crossing off my name in your book” stoP😭
- the raft? space jail? Pls tell me if I’m wrong
- BUCKY💞💞💞💞 AWWW IS THATS WAKANDAN WINGS FOR SAM? A SUIT?
- I’m gonna cry Bucky flirting with Sarah is so fun it reminds me if 1949’s pre trauma Bucky who was like the ~ladies man~ it’s like he’s slowly being himself again 🥺
- STOP THIS SEQUENCE IS AMAZING I HAVENT FELT THIS MUCH JOY SINCE NOVEMBER 5TH THIS IS MY FAVOURITE EPISODE I AM NOT OKAY
- Bucky helping around with the boat (and straight up ripping out parts) is making me soft I’m
- YAY SLEEPOVER I love this friendship
- aww lemar’s parents that part was sad but I still hate John Walker
-oooh Sharon is sketch
- STOP Sams nephews playing with the shield in front of Bucky🥺 like that scene in captain America where the kids use a trash can lid as a shield brb crying
- AHAHA Sarah going off and Bucky taking her side I’m wheezing
- LOOK AT THEM BICKERING I’m
- they literally playing frisbee with the shield
- Bucky apologising about how hard taking the shield would be for Sam and Sam giving Bucky the therapy he needed cleared my skin
- “partners””co-workers””couple of guys” the character DEVELOPMENT
- NO LET ME SEE WHATS IN THE BOX LEMME SEE
Post credits scene
- bitch he’s actually insane is he actually making his own captain America shield THAT TITLE IS NOT YOURS SIR SHOO
#tfatws#bucky barnes#sam wilson#falcon#fatws#tfatws spoilers#tfatws ep 5#tfatws episode 5#the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers#the falcon and the winter soldier episode 5#falcon and the winter soldier#marvel#post credit scene
47 notes
·
View notes
Note
the second part to the hunter story;;; god its all he deserves all the love and happiness, pls baby boy. i cannot wait till the next episode i just wanna know whats up with him i hope he is getting the support he needs and deserves 😭
official tested for covid now and quarantined. throat hurts like hell, especially swallowing and coughing is the absolute worst ugh. but the rest is fine so i really shouldn’t complain. have a shit ton of throat stuff now so hopefully i can just pump myself full the next few days and survive.
nothing much else going on, need to find that creative flow again while i struggle w this shiet, in the meantime i just wanna say that kisaki was the cutest fugging kid ever and chubby cheek kisaki owns my entire heart.
i have been spending too much time on pinterest and all these cute comics;;
desperately need more simp kisaki
and bc i like u, have some dad! hanma
hope u and ur fam have a pleasant day!
-🌌momo
biting my nails knowing the next episode will fuck off in the other direction probably and we can all suffer and chew our nails down to literal stumps knowing Hunter is out there alone and freaking out bc Terrace wants us to suffer 😩 also rewatched last weeks episode at the gym today and really just...holy fucking hell we really said racism and genocide and repeated murder ffs
not me when I'm sick fucking slugging back cough medicine and doubling up on cold & flu meds way more often than I'm supposed to. I am not a good sick person I'd rather give birth than have a cold/flu/covid and I'm not even exaggerating. My thoughts are with you babe bc I'm a horrid sick person turned Sanzu level drug addict when I'm sick 😩
i'm sorry but kid Kisaki was so fucking adorable in like the ugliest puppy kinda way?? That's the only way I can explain it?? The middle part and the glasses and being so tiny I just wanted to pinch his cheeks?? Hinata was a fool to pick Takemichi just look at his smooshable face I wanna smoosh him 😤 also not slowly turning my wife into a kisaki fucker so hanma and I can get hitched no problem asdfghjkl
also that comic- HOW SHORT DO PEOPLE THINK OTHERS ARE?? KISAKI IS LIKE FUCKING 5'3" HE IS SO SHORT SO TO BE LEVEL WITH HIS TITTIES YOU'D HAVE TO BE LIKE- LIKE 4'5 CMON FFS LET PEOPLE BE TALL WEAK ASS FANARTS. I only accept shorter y/ns in like, Hanma art or Hakkai art or ig Draken and ish Ran. Fucking hell Kisaki is 5'3...besides that, it's cute I cannot lie
Hanma with a blue Ergo baby 🥺🥺🥺 My son had a blue Ergo baby too but it was light blue but identical to that in every other way 😭 I'm sorry but man owns my heart. This latest chapter he's such a pain in the ass, he's a fool, an utter idiot with a big mouth and barely anything to back it up. I love him. I'll give him a baby. He's a bastard and I love that bastard I'm gonna slap him so fucking hard how dare he just not exist
#legit let my son oversleep by like half an hr with his nap today#to color that fucking manga cap of hanma#and his like three lines were as cringy and stupid as id hope they were#i love this man in all forms and its disgusting#i never even wanted to look at tokyorev and here we are#you all should have warned me about this man so i could avoid it at all costs like a normal person#also have bad rindou feelings idk why#want him to squish my fat and snuggle#cant explain it its disgusting#pls let me just have hunter feelings or something normal#kageyama feelings or atsumu feelings or something#drowning in dumb men feelings instead#oh god theyre all dumb v.v#you be taking care of yourself babe <3#i need my other kisaki fuckers to stay well so we can fuck kisaki while everyone else has no taste <3#🌌.♡#three.talks
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: emotions of subdrop, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, degradation, use of toys, overstimulation
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫
***
Waking up you felt like a corpse rising out of its grave. It didn't seem like yesterday's scene was taxing on your body for you to feel so sore. Maybe it was the fact your orgasm came from two sets of hands compared to your own. Sitting up you noticed the bed was empty. You rubbed your eyes and stretched out your back before making your way down the hall.
The smell of coffee and slightly burnt toast filled your senses. The first thing you saw was your dress folded neatly with your boots and purse on top of it. You internally groaned at how much of a slob you probably seemed to be.
"Hey look who's awake," Cat called, making you turn your head.
You gave her a small smile making your way over to their kitchen table. She took sips out of her coffee while Spencer was over by the stove making what looked like scrambled eggs.
"Come sit," she said, patting the chair next to her.
"How long have you guys been up?" you asked as you sat down.
"Like 45 minutes," Spencer spoke from behind you.
He walked over with two plates of food, setting them in front of you and Cat.
"You guys could have woken me up. I know you probably want me out of your hair. And I'm sorry for leaving my stuff everywhere last night," you said looking between the both of them.
You felt a sense of doubt wash over you. You couldn't explain the feeling but it was as if all your worries just planted themselves on your shoulders. The same feeling came over you last night but you fell asleep so fast you didn't have time to process everything. Now that you were awake and alert it was like everything was hitting you at once.
They shared a look sensing your worries. Spencer turned the stove off and sat on the seat across from the both of you. Cat took your hand in hers as she started talking, "Y/n do you know what a subdrop is?"
You shook your head no in response.
"A subdrop is when after a scene the submissive starts to feel sadness or maybe a bit melancholy. All the endorphins which were rushing through you are slowly leaving your system, hence the term drop, making you feel this way. Dominates can feel this way after a scene as well,” Spencer explained.
You stayed silent taking in the information. Cat's thumb rubbing over the back of your hand shook you out of your thoughts.
"Do you wanna talk about how you're feeling. Since this is all new it's probably best to let everything out and we can walk you through it," she said with a soft tone.
"Isn't that breaking a rule?" you asked quietly, "Last night you said no relationship type stuff.. I just," you took a pause, "I don't know I feel like you don't have to care about how I feel."
"As your dominants it's our job to care about how you feel, especially during a drop or if you happen to slip into subspace." Spencer said looking into your eyes. His caramel orbs trying their best to deepen the message of his words.
Cat put a strand of hair behind your ear. Unlike last night, she wasn't in her dominant headspace. The action was soft and comforting instead of teasingly trying to gain a reaction.
"This might not be a normal relationship but I promise you that your emotions take priority over sex. Alright," she said, searching your eyes.
You felt the tears well up in your eyes. You scoffed and let out a little laugh as you swiped them away, "Sorry I don't know why I'm so emotional. Thank you, that uh means a lot," you said looking at Cat then Spencer.
You all shared a silent moment before Spencer spoke again, "Why don't we eat then spend the day in bed, unless you have any plans," he asked.
"No, that sounds good," you said, more excited. After their reassurance you felt the glumness of the morning slowly slip away. You spent the time eating and making small talk. Cat poking fun at Spencer for always seeming to burn the toast. It was interesting to see them in such a peaceful element, it was as if the power they held last night had slipped away and they were nothing but literature nerds.
_
The three of you made your way back to their fluffy bed. Cat had picked up the remote to the large television which hung in front of you. She put on a baking show and settled in the sheets. One arm under a pillow and the other was in her mouth as she bit her nails. Spencer was on the other side of you and picked up a book that was on the nightstand.
You rested on your side facing Cat. The positions mimicked how you slept the night before. You watched as she laughed when people would get frustrated or make small comments on each person's decorating skills. Turning around you started to focus on Spencer. The way his eyes quickly darted across the page soaking up the printed words. His fingers following along and trailing down the page. Your mind drifted to the way they pumped inside you and you bit your lip to stifle a whimper.
Instead you turned back to face the television, crossing your legs and letting your mind drift back to the cake building on the screen.
By the end of the episode you were feeling antsy. The warmth of them surrounding you shot straight to your core. Cat was holding onto your arm and leaning into your neck. It was funny to see how she seemed needy, when in reality you knew she could have you on your knees with just one look. Spencer had finished his book and was resting behind you. His arm splayed across your middle as his front was completely pressed against your back.
You tried to subtly shift, moving your hips back and forth to relieve the pressure on your core. Your attempts were cut short by a voice in your ear.
"You better stop that if you want to be able to sit tomorrow princess," Spencer gritted in your ear.
You truly thought about taking that as a warning but something within you wanted to push his buttons. Instead you started to shift more, grinding your ass against his length. His strong hand gripped your hips forcing you to stop.
"Get up," he said lowly.
"You should've listened to his warning angel," Cat said with mockingly.
Stepping off the bed Spencer wasted no time in bending you over the edge. He pulled the shirt out of the way and let his hand rub over your behind. You were pretty sure your panties were still somewhere in Cat's coat. The thought was cut off by a smack landing on the center of your ass.
"I want you to count each one and thank me," Spencer said darkly followed by another smack.
"Two, thank you Sir," you said breathlessly.
He continued the punishment, landing hard swat after swat on your burning behind. You looked up at Cat hoping she would make him stop in an act of mercy. However there was no such luck.
"Don't look at me like that. You're the one who decided to be a greedy little whore. Now take your punishment like a good girl," Cat said looking back at her show.
You mewled at how little she cared about what was going on to her left. You felt the tears start forming in your eyes. You moaned after each continued smack. Once he got to ten he rubbed your sore behind and pulled your shirt back down. He turned you around and made you sit on the edge of the bed.
"What's your color princess?" he asked.
"Green Sir," you replied with a sniffle.
"Good girl. You took your punishment so well. Too bad it's over you look so pretty with tears in your eyes" Spencer said, wiping a stray tear with his thumb.
"Thank you Sir," you spoke up.
"Thank you Sir," Cat mimicked from behind you, "How pathetic. If you want to act greedy then you're gonna be treated like the little slut you are."
She pulled you by your arms to the center of the bed. In no time she had the shirt you had on over your head and tossed to the floor. She spread your legs and dipped her hand into your folds.
"You're already dripping from a little spanking," she laughed leaning in close to your face, "taste yourself."
She rubbed her soaked fingers on your lips before slipping them into your mouth. You held eye contact with her as you hollowed your cheeks around her digits. She pulled them out and landed a smack on your cheek, making you moan at the impact.
"Aw did you hear that Spence? Looks like we have a filthy little pain slut on our hands," she said looking over at Spencer who was admiring his girlfriend on top of your writhing form.
You let out whimpers at her words. They were dripping with venom but you loved the poison flowing through your veins.
"Tell your Mistress what you want."
You gulped before responding, "I want Sir's cock, please! I want him to fuck my slutty pussy." You felt your cheeks heat up at how desperate you sounded. But at this point you didn't even care.
You looked over at Spencer who was hard in his sweatpants, the large bulge begging to escape its confines. You silently begged him with your eyes.
Cat’s fingers slipped in your tight heat making you arch your back at how quickly she was able to find your sweet spot. Your eyes squeezed closed and your mouth dropped in a silent scream from the overwhelming pleasure. Cat’s unoccupied hand went to your jaw to make you look at her.
“Am I not good enough for you angel? Are my fingers not enough that you need to beg for his cock like a whore?” Cat said leaning in inches away from your face.
“N-no Mistress. Fuck you’re so p-perfect. I’m sorry!” you tried to say in between breathy moans.
You tried to turn your head to get a sight of Spencer who was now tugging on his hard cock but Cat’s hard grip stopped you.
“Don’t look at him. You’re gonna look right into my eyes as you cum on my fingers.”
She moved her thumb in quick circles over your aching clit. The added pleasure along with her skilled fingers were enough to make you meet your end. You came with a silent scream as your legs trembled around her frame. She pulled her fingers out of you and motioned for Spencer to come over.
He made his way on the bed and Cat turned to face him, rubbing your release on his lips before sticking her fingers in his mouth. You swore you died and went to heaven. That was the hottest thing you have ever seen. You heard him moan around her fingers before she slipped them out.
“Go ahead Spencer, give our little slut what she wants,” Cat said demandingly.
He wasted no time in settling between your legs. You watched as Cat got off from her bed and walked into the closet. You tried to get up on your elbows and looked at Spencer questioningly. Was she upset? I mean you’d be upset too if someone else was begging to fuck your boyfriend.
Spencer sensed your worries and pushed you back on the sheets, “Don’t worry she’s not upset or anything. She’ll be back.”
You nodded your head reluctantly.
“Color princess,” He asked swiping the tip of his cock over your folds.
“Very green Sir,” you mewled out.
Spencer aligned himself with your entrance and slipped in inch by inch. You cursed at the stretch, you could feel every vein along your walls. Once he was all the way in he looked in your eyes for any sign that you were uncomfortable. You gave him a nod to signal he could start moving. He started off with slow strokes for you to get used to his size. It was agonizing how much pleasure you felt but you needed him to go faster.
“Please go faster Sir,” you whined out.
“You want me to fuck you into the mattress? Is that what my princess wants?” he cooed lowly at you.
You frantically nodded and he wasted no time in diving back in. His quick strokes were driving you crazy. Each one hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars. You were a mess of loud whines as the knot in your tummy was building up again.
He dropped to his forearms, caging you in under him. One of his hands moved up your chest and around your throat. You whined out his title and shifted your hips trying to meet each thrust.
You heard the closet door shut and turned your head to see Cat walk out. Your eyes widened at the large toy attached to her hips. She walked to the edge of the bed and pulled you by the hair to face her.
“You’re gonna suck my cock and get it nice and wet for when I fuck you,” She left no time for you to answer and brought the toy to your lips.
You moaned around it as she used her hand to bob your head up and down.
“You gonna cum for me princess? I can feel you’re close,” Spencer gritted in your ear. Cat pulled you off the toy for you to answer him.
“Please can I cum Sir, fuck I’m so close,” you whined and begged.
His hand slipped down to rub on your clit. Quick circles made shocks of pleasure shoot through you. Just a little more and you would explode.
“Cum on my cock pretty girl, let me feel you,” he said as he groaned, also close to his release.
His words made the knot break and your second orgasm was through you. Your tight pussy squeezing around his cock led him to his end. You felt his warm seed spill inside you. You both sighed as he slowed his motions and slipped out of you.
He rolled off of you and fell to your side. Cat immediately got on the bed, taking his spot and flipped you over, arching your back to her liking.
“Whats your color angel?” she asked softly.
“Green Mistress,” you said wiggling your behind in front of her.
She landed a hard smack on your already red cheeks, “I’m not as nice as Spencer. Your teasing and acting like a slut isn’t gonna slide with me,” she said harshly. The way she slipped back into her dominating voice drove you wild.
She started off with quick thrusts. The sound of her hips smacking against your thighs bounced off the walls. She held your hips with a bruising grasp. You were biting the pillow trying to stifle your noises but she wasn’t having that. She used one of her hands to pull you by your hair.
“No no angel I wanna hear you. Who’s cock is splitting you open like this?”
You all but yelled in response, “Your cock Mistress! I’m gonna cum, please let me cum!”
Being on edge from your last two orgasms you were ready to burst again. You felt Spencer sit up and his fingers pressed against your clit.
“Go on angel, let go for me,” she gritted out.
Your body trembled at her words along with Spencers quick circles. ‘Thank you’s’ and curses left your lips as the pleasure consumed you. She pulled out of you and you fell limp on the bed. You took in deep breathes trying to get the air back that was knocked out of you.
You felt her small hands flip you over and pepper small kisses over your cheeks then finally on your lips. You sat up and looked over at Spencer before pulling him into a kiss as well.
You all broke apart and shared a silent moment of bliss before Cat spoke up.
“I knew that fucker was gonna win,” she said looking back at the show which you had all forgot was still playing.
You snorted and let out a laugh causing them to break out into laughs as well.
“How about a shower then lunch,” Spencer suggested.
He got up to get the water running and you helped Cat out of the strap on. You shared lingering glances until Spencer called that the water was ready. She got up from the bed and held her hand out for you. You interlocked pinkies and made your way to the bathroom where they smothered you in kisses and kind words.
All your worries from earlier were gone. You could definitely get used to this.
𝐚/𝐧; 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐢 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞!!!
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#cat adams x reader#cat adams smut#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#criminal minds smut#mgg smut#mgg x reader#chellewrites
128 notes
·
View notes
Text
I have finally thrown in the towel and gone back on Welbutrin.
If you're considering the need to go back on your meds, take this as a sign from the universe that yes, you do indeed need to and you have nothing to prove to anybody.
This turned into mental health word vomit nobody is going to care about so I'm putting it under a cut to save your dashes.
After having the health crisis in 2009 that left me with the permanent nerve damage I'm still dealing with followed by one of my best friends throwing me under a bus and gaslighting me about it, I started struggling with my mental health. When my middle sister passed away from breast cancer in January 2010 I destroyed myself trying to be The Strong One for my parents, letting my cup run so dry it cracked and broke.
I spent the next 7 years at the bottom of a hole, the last four or so on Welbutrin that helped quite a bit but not completely. My personal art output was absolute zero. I lost my 20's to it, basically.
I finally pulled myself out of it when I renovated the room across from my bedroom into my studio and got into Yuri on Ice in late 2016 because I had something to focus on, get excited about, and be inspired by. I pumped out 40 new pieces of art in 2017 because of it, I was getting regular interaction with people, my blog was growing again, and it was fantastic. I was an art machine. I came off of the Welbutrin in Spring 2016. I was happy for the first time in years.
Anybody still in the YoI fandom knows that well has been bone dry for a few years now; most of our crops withered if not died completely, and fandom policing bullshit made creating fanart for it far less desirable for me. I started slipping.
Then 2018 happened. My oldest sister passed away in February from liver failure. The day after we buried her ashes next to my middle sister in the family plot, we found out our dog, Sushi, had late stage lymphoma at only 9 years old. Her face had barely even begun to get a dusting of white. We lost her that July. I slipped some more. I came out of that year holding on to the edge of that hole by the tips of my fingers, but I was proud that I hadn't fallen back in completely.
Then 2020 happened. On March 13 my life upended and my sole focus became keeping my high risk parents safe from Covid, becoming their caregiver and doing absolutely everything for them that involved interacting with people or going out in public. In the last 14 months I've only gone to the pharmacy and chiropractor. That's it. We've been having our groceries delivered via a wonderful woman named Katelyn through Dumpling. Quarantine has aged me by at least five years at this point if the lines on my face are any indication.
Then my uncle was diagnosed with stage IV esophageal cancer over the summer and the traumatizing hell of trying to care for him here at our house -- on top of the added stress of having a CONSTANT parade of nurses, hospice people, and chaplains coming through the house because of it in the middle of a pandemic I was working so hard to protect my parents from -- was a body blow that included a dissociative episode. He passed away in October 2020.
I was finally able to get myself and my parents vaccinated through the county health department at the end of March 2021, which was a Thing all unto itself because of their system fucking things up.We got our second dose toward the end of April and a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, but the damage was already done.
My personal art output has been zero for almost two years at this point. The last piece of fan work I actually finished that wasn't for a client, zine, or gift was in October 2019, it didn't even get 200 notes, nobody seemed to care or even notice that I had been basically MIA online in the last two years (save for maybe three people), so I lost the sliver of motivation I still had left. Let me repeat that:
I haven't finished any personal artwork that wasn't for a client, zine, or gift since October 2019. It's now May 2021.
At the beginning of April I finally said fuck it, I give up, and emailed my doctor asking for a new script for Welbutrin. While I'm not as godawful miserable emotionally as I was back when I started taking it originally (although it's on its way down that road), I am back to being completely unmotivated to do much of anything let alone produce new art. I have ideas. I just don't have the motivation to sit down and execute them.
As I've said several times before, I have to create in order to feel worthwhile. Interaction with people online when I post my work helps me stay in a good place mentally because I'm human and humans need positive interaction and just a sense that we're seen and matter. It's a nasty spiral because once it started seeming that hardly anybody cared about my work anymore or even noticed when I disappeared, that finished the job of killing my motivation. I know art should be made for yourself but like I said, I'm human and I'm just being honest here instead of trying to bullshit anybody. What's the point of posting if it's seemingly just going into the void?
I'm tired of being in that rut of a mindset and languishing in that bad headspace, so I'm trying to help myself out of it before I hit the bottom of that hole again. I never want to go back there, but I'm damn close at this point.
At least the Welbutrin is making me lose weight because it's killed my appetite.
#sorry for the word vomit#personal shit#mental health#shut up kris#i can't even sleep like a normal depressed person because my nerves won't stay quiet long enough to get any restful sleep#which has also been murder on my mental health#the nerve problems have gotten much much worse in the last year or so
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Figuring It Out As We Go Chap. 1
Here we arreeee~ the fic i sat on for a month and a half before i decided to post it~
I got this in my head a couple days after reading the whole spicynoodles tag on ao3, because as yall have prolly figured out, if i run out of content for a ship, i usually begin making the content myself. After i post chaps 1 and 2, i’ll begin updating this every friday, like i do on ao3. I don’t know why i wrote this, but honestly i pumped out 4000 words of it in 2 hrs one night, so yall know im in love w it.
It’s got like, implied nsfw, some emotions on mk’s part, some other stuff goin on 👀 (also if ur emetophobic feel free to stop by the askbox or my dms to ask for a summary bc this might trigger u)
I hope yall like it!!
It had started off as a casual thing.
A release of post-battle adrenaline, the kind of thing MK and Red Son did and then immediately agreed not to talk about or repeat.
But they repeated it, again and again and again.
The sound of their labored breathing echoed throughout MK’s apartment as the two of them lay on the bed, finally spent. MK felt pleasantly drowsy, and basked in the final rays of sunshine that shone through his window.
“I have to go.” Red Son murmured from beneath him. “My parents will be looking for me.”
MK buried his face in the crook of Red Son’s neck, and bit back the words in his throat that sounded suspiciously like “stay, don’t go, let me fall asleep in your arms.” Dangerous words, ones that would make this situation even worse.
They both knew that this was possibly the worst decision either of them had ever made, but MK wondered when “a casual fuck” had turned into something more, something that pricked at his eyes and put words on his tongue. He knew he’d never tell Red Son about any of his blossoming feelings, but he found himself wondering about the demon more and more. He’d never stayed for breakfast, but MK wondered if he drank coffee in the mornings. Maybe he was a chocolate milk drinker. Maybe he drank tea. Did he like pancakes or waffles better?
MK wanted to know everything about Red Son, from the tiny, inconsequential things to the big, life-changing moments.
He just wanted Red Son, in every way.
MK’s breath caught in his throat, but he rolled to the other side of the bed so Red Son could get up. He stared up at the ceiling as he heard the shuffling of clothes next to his bed, and chewed on his bottom lip as he blinked back tears. He’d been very emotional lately, and the feelings swirling in his head didn’t help.
The rustling of clothes stopped, and he heard quiet footsteps head toward the window. He heard Red Son draw in a breath, then listened as the window unlatched and closed as he left.
MK sucked in a breath, then began to cry. He curled in on himself as sobs shook his frame. He cried for lost chances, bad decisions, and missed opportunities. He ached to be held, to be soothed, but the only person who could help him feel better had already left.
He cried until he could cry no more, tired and dehydrated as he was. Then, he showered, using cold water to shock him into awakeness and out of the post-coital funk. He felt slightly better after putting on some pajama pants, then went to his mini-fridge to see if he had any food.
Truthfully, the stomach issues he’d been fighting off and on for a couple months now made it difficult to find an appetite, but he figured it was better to eat something and hopefully absorb some of the nutrients than eat nothing. He’d even tried a liquid-only diet, but had thrown up the liquids too.
He picked a package of dumplings, then settled on the sofa to watch reruns of Monkey King: The Animated Series. Fifteen minutes later, he was once again in the restroom, this time throwing up what little he managed to eat of the dumplings. When he finished, he finally gave in and called the doctor.
“Thank you for calling the clinic, how may I help you?” The receptionist answered.
Mk cleared his throat before responding, “Yes, I’d like to make an appointment,” in his most grown up voice.
The sounds of typing came through the line, and the receptionist asked, “Name?”
“Uh, Qi Xiaotian.”
“Okay, we have an opening tomorrow at 1 PM. Are you available?”
MK thought it over for a moment. On the one hand, he’d have to call in sick, but on the other, Pigsy would probably let him, what with his stomach issues and all. “Yes, I am.”
“Good. See you then!” The line went dead, and MK hung up.
Then, he called Mei.
“Hey MK!” She greeted excitedly. “What’s up?”
“Hey Mei! Can you take me to the doctor tomorrow?” He asked, knowing that Pigsy was busy and Tang didn’t have a car.
Her voice immediately took on a tone of concern. “Okay, but are you okay?”
“Yeah, just an annoying stomach bug.” He replied casually, flopping on the bed as he sipped water from a water bottle. “They’ll probably just give me some pills and tell me to drink liquids. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“Alright, but if it gets bad or you start throwing up blood or something, promise me you’ll go to the hospital?” Mei asked.
MK smiled as he replied, “Yeah, of course.”
It was nice to know that someone cared about him.
He just had to forget about Red Son and remember all the people in his life who loved him.
Mei hung up after that, and MK went back to their marathon. The episodes were ones they’d already seen, but there was a comfort in these older episodes, akin to wearing a nostalgia blanket. They snuggled with their favorite stuffed animal, and soon drifted into a heavy sleep.
#spicynoodles#fanned fiction#lego monkie king#monkie kid#fioawg#spicynoodlesshipping#lmk red son#lmk mk#ash does shit
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
Kings, Queens, Royalty, what are our (yes obvi collective bc we're all sharing a braincell here with everything Abimel) thoughts on Miss Abigael trying to bind her powers? And what are our theories about Miss Abigael and Miss Jordan being stuck in (I'm calling it a prison world because I deadass cannot remember the right word for) those separate prison-y worlds? Who's going to notice they're missing, Maggie or Mel??
OK TIME TO RANT.
TW. SPOILIES FOR S3 Ep 11.
TW Mentions of suicide and suicidal behaviors.
TW cutting mention
TW depression
TW self harm
HELLO FELLOW KING/QUEEN/ROYALTY.
1. I fucking lost my shit with this episode. The writers are just fucking up huge. Abby is now moved to the most dangerous level of her depression, EXTREME self harm. Before she’d do things but she’d always wake up before it actually hurt her. Hell, this time she literally grabbed shards of glass and went ham on her skin like it was a piece of cake! How did she even reach her shoulder???? They didn’t even show all her wounds and that’s terrifying. she literally fully took sharp things and tried to kill herself from self injury and blood loss. I just.
i can’t.
the charmed writers have still not acknowledge this is depression, or done a thing on how self harm is horrible. Or have anyone actually recognize what Abby is doing without some cruel insult.
and considering the leap that happened, I’m honestly terrified she’s going make the final leap and they will barely even acknowledge it, nevertheless treat it as the delicate and important subject it is.
Literally every scene. Every scène in this was gut wrenching. Waking up in disarray and a desttoyed room, only to be covered in your own blood. (Ok technically she wasn’t, which is also logically incorrect, like what, her demon side decide to be nice and clean up the blood that was 100% no doubt pouring down her arms and body?) yeah no.
Walkinh up to Jorden. Asking him to help her do a binding spell.
Im gonna take a second here to establish that this is Abby. Abigael Jameson-fucking-Caine. the literal DEMON OVERLORD.
she lives for her magic. Magic is who she is and how she lives and she practically breaths the stuff. She’s the most magical out of all of the people on the show. It was how she was raised. It was ingrained into her more then anything else
the fact that she made a split second decision to get rid of ALL of her powers FOREVER.
It just is truly the ultimate show of how desperate she is. How much pain mentally and physically this is causing her.
im not even comment on the fact that I nearly cried from how soft Jordan was patching her up.
🥺😭😭😭 ok yes I am I just did GOD I LIVE FOR THEIR PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP ALMOST MORE THEN OVERWITCH THEMSELVES!
ALMOST! That’s a very hard almost. Overwitch is what gets my heart pumping in the morning.
bro just FUCKING bro! She was so scared. So so scared of the binding ritual. She didn’t want to do it but she had too. It was pure fear and desperation. (I flinched when she whimpered as she cut her hand. She’s already cut herself way to much in the last 24 hours. I’m not even gonna begin on the rollercoaster of thought’s she might have been feeling)
Also, is it just me, or is she ALWAYS too eager to go and slice her palm if they need demon blood for a spell. Like she generally doesn’t care if she hurts herself in the process. hell she proved that by literally poisoning herself painfully to get Harry’s attention.
and that was BEFORE getting a suicidal demon side.
god she’s been a mess for so long and no ones realizing it.
Bro. BRO. JORDAN. WAS. SO. FUCKING. SOFT when he was about to apparently STAB her??? Like what the fuck was that??? Oh to get rid of your powers we need EVEN MORE BLOOD or for you to flat out die, NO BIGGIE!
but look at him as he does it. He stands and gently caresses Her shoulder. I fucking sobbed at that. He holds her like she’s a fragile broken sparrow. A innocent bird. I NEED more of that.
haha if that’s not enought let’s add some MORE PAIN. onto this overwhelming ANGST SESH.
THE PERFECTI DECIDE TO SEND HER TO THE TOMB OF FUCKING CHAOS BY BURNINH A SYMBOL INTO THE BACK OF HER NECK??? WHERE SHE APPARENTLY FINDS A (hammer??) SOMEWHERE! (not gonna lie I didn’t know what I was missing till my life was complete with Abby with a hammer) anywho-
you fucked up perfecti!
the tomb of chaos is for the most evil of monsters and demons, who even murderers are afraid of
IT IS NOT FOR HALF DEMON HALF WITCH SUICIDAL BEANS WHO ARE LITERALLY TRYING TO DIE EVERY NIGHT AND TRYING TO REDEEM HERSELF
THE DIFFERENCE IS MORE THEN CLEAR.
bruh her scream though
🥺 jorden was so concerned
WHEN ABBY CALLED OUT FOR ‘JORDY’ WHEN SHE WAS NERVOUS AND ALONE
when she says ‘Anyone?’ That KILLED ME.
i SWEAR. If she’s gonna see hallucinations of her family I WILL loose my shit.
MY GOD. If in her dream cell she’s dating Mel??? like maybe that’s her incorrect thing.
also WHAT THE FUCK was that beginning scene??? So we all agreed that when she’s in her full on body length let’s bring out the angsty lace dress state, that shes “Asleep” and “Unconscious.” And “NOT LUCID OR SANE AT ALL”
like a normal person
so your telling Me, UNCONSCIOUSLY. She went to the CHARMED ONES HOUSE??
to do exactly WHAT exactly??? She’s not gonna kill them? She wants to kill herself! and she doesn’t even want them to die in real life.
so that’s un probable.
unless the reason she came their wasnt violence related at all!
she’s first in the house , and the first thing she says is MEL.
theirs a dramatic long pause and then she says the other sisters names
as if mels the soul purpose and Maggie and Macy are the unwilling spares.
AKA. CANONLY. IN HER TIME OF NEED. SHE GOES TO MELS HOUSE. TO SEARCH FOR MEL. SO MEL CAN BE THEIR WITH HER
AKA MEL IS EVERYTHING
OVERWITCH CANON
MIC DROP!
(i swtg if they hurt her next episode I will RANT AND BOYCOTT SO AHRD!)
#tw self destruction#tw depression#tw self destructive behavior#tw cutting#tw self harm#tw suidice#Charmed#Charmed reboot#abigael caine#mel vera#abimel#Overwitch#Abby x Mel#mel x abigael#abigael x mel#macy vaughn#harry greenwood#hacy#harry x macy#jordan chase#maggie vera#Charmed cw#Joggie#maggie x jordan#Charmed Abigael#Charmed Mel#Charmed Harry#Charmed Macy
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
black and white || satoru gojo
january 1, 2021
synopsis: in which strange feelings arise as the man you despise brings a date to your hangout spot and you do the very mature thing: serenade him. 1.5k words.
writer’s note: i've only watched like 6 episodes of jjk so i don't even know if my characterization of anyone is on point but i'm obsessed with this idea. the song that inspired this fic was “black and white” by nasty c and ari lennox (which i do not own). enjoy and pls leave some feedback. btw happy new year!!
warnings: allusions to sex. nothing strong but proceed with caution. swearing. alcohol usage. pettiness.
you fucking hate him. you hate his stupid face and his stupid arrogance. who the fuck does satoru gojo think he is? people think your hatred of him is misplaced because he’s apparently “nice” and “civil” to you but it’s all for show! he is so rude and patronizing and petty. like tonight. when he brought a date to unofficial weekly drinks with colleagues.
“well, why are you so mad he brought a date?” muses shoko, tapping her fingers on your shared wooden table.
“i’m not mad he brought a date, i’m mad that he’s flaunting her around,” you clarify, arms flailing and gesticulating wildly.
“flaunting? god, he hasn’t even introduced her to us.” “yet,” you seeth.
“well are you going to say anything to him?”
you shoot her an affronted look. “no. why would i?” shoko rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. “you’re clueless,” she mutters. “excuse m—” “oh look, they're coming.” fuck.
through the dim, yet warm, lights of the bar, you see gojo walking over, arm in arm, with a relatively pretty woman clad in a short black dress. sandy brown hair, tucked behind her ears, cascade down her back and black heels accentuate her long legs. however, your eyes were drinking in the shaman dressed in a tucked in button-up (with the first few buttons unbuttoned, of course), casual black pants, and tan moccasins. his hair was let down from it’s usual gravity-defying updo and dark, round sunglasses replaced the blindfold.
“hey guys, this is sana,” gojo introduces. the aforementioned woman waves and smiles. you could feel shoko’s eyes on you, screaming be nice so you mutter out a greeting and introduction before she, begrudgingly, takes over socializing.
you silently nurse your drink as your glare resumes. gojo, noting your expression, raises an eyebrow and questions, “what’s that look for?”
taking a sip of your drink, you shoot back a fake smile and a “nothing. just wondering how your atrocious personality ensnared her.”
he lightly laughs and responds, “you know, lots of women find me attractive.”
you lean in and whisper into his ear, “physical attractiveness doesn’t cancel out skyscraper levels of entitlement.”
“no, it just gets me a hot date. you wouldn’t be jealous, would you [nickname]?” gojo asks in mock concern. his index finger traverses your cheek before you knock his hand away and sneer, “go fuck yourself.” he exclaims, “don’t need to!” and then grabs sana’s hand and bids farewell to shoko.
“now that,” you point to their retreating bodies, “was flaunting.”
“you’re paranoid,” she drawls.
“no, i’m fucking not,” you shoot back. “and frankly, i am offended you would think that!”
“you’re always offended, [name]. especially when it comes to satoru.” you open your mouth to defend yourself but she raises an index finger to your lips and continues, “we’re here to relax. get another drink and watch the performance in peace.” shoko gestures to the stage where the same (surprisingly talented) guy has been singing for the past fifteen minutes, courtesy of the bar’s “Karaoke Night” every Friday. caught up with your inner thoughts, you failed to notice that she was still scolding you.
“… and i’d probably respect you more if you actually did something to prove your point rather than dish out petty insults.” silence dawns upon you two as shoko challenges you. that is, until widespread applause interrupts your interaction and reveals that the karaoke guy (named aki, apparently) finished performing another song. a surge of courage overcomes you, and you abruptly stand up and slam your hands onto the wooden table. “fine, you want me to do something?” shoko makes a noise of confirmation. “watch.”
you lose the leather jacket to reveal a sleeveless, flowy burgundy top and lace up your combat boots before marching towards the stage. truth be told, you didn’t know why you wanted to do this. and you didn’t know what you had to prove. but the whiskey in your blood and the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach whenever you saw gojo with his arms around his date pushes you onto the stage.
from across the bar, gojo sees you whisper something into aki’s ear before he announces, “alright, [name] will be joining me for the next song, which is”—he pauses as you whisper something else into his ear—“a surprise!” the applause and cheers drown out sana’s inquiries towards gojo of whether you were a good singer. not that he’d be able to respond, anyways, considering that his brain was swarmed with thoughts of why you were singing in the first place and how fucking hot you look.
up on the stage, aki asks, “is this your first time singing here.” “yeah,” you breathe out. “are you nervous?” one glance back to gojo, and then to shoko who gave whatever she could muster into an encouraging smile, you mutter “i need a drink after this.”
the music starts and your partner sings:
“… let me in your temple
show me what you into
it could be so simple
black and white, yeah …”
your right foot taps in tune with the beat against the floor in front of the microphone as you patiently awaited the female part. you mentally prep for both singing in front of everyone while being half-drunk and how ruined everything would be if this made things awkward with gojo. while the two of you may be at each other’s throats, at least it was smooth dynamic. if he found this uncomfortable, there goes your personal and professional life.
before you can contemplate running out of the bar, ari lennox’s part begins and you sing the chorus, along with aki. you mentally thank the bar patrons who lightly cheered, as if they could sense your apprehension. your solo verse soon begins and you look to aki for a boost of confidence before belting out:
“so call me, baby
'cause you be putting it down on me”
the adrenaline pumping through your veins emboldens you to make direct eye contact with gojo and run your left hand through your hair seductively while continuing with:
“in my bed, on your stairs
when we loving you know we don't care”
across the room, gojo’s eyebrows shoot up; he wasn’t expecting your lyrics to be directed to him. for all the resentment you throw in his direction, he assumed you despised him. a small part of him gathered that you possibly might have feelings for him but he thought they were repressed, at best. seeing you up on stage declaring that, at the very least, you lust for him makes gojo want to take you, right then and there.
on your side, there’s an inkling of doubt that you went too far, until you see him lick his lips and smirk. your expression mirrors his for a moment until you increase the seduction.
“all mine, like wine
say ain't no bitch that got your heart pumpin' like i
fall in love deeply when i look in your eye
fantasy the way you carry me, mariah …”
whistles and cheers from the audience nearly drown out the last line. confidence oozes out of your stage presence and want for gojo oozes out of your every pore, a want that is reciprocal. you see sana go red in the face (most likely because her own date is eye-fucking you). a small part of you feels awful for her but an even larger part feels victorious because, fuck, despite never getting along with him, the two of you have an unbreakable connection. the thought of another woman getting the time and attention he devotes to this connection, to you, drives you insane. god, it makes you want to rip that button-up off and stake your claim all over him.
the rest of your performance continues with relative ease. once finished, you and aki say your goodbyes and compliments to each other (with him insisting that you have to sing with him again and you responding with a “some other time”) as you depart back to your table. locking eyes with shoko, you receive a look of approval and a nod towards the direction of a certain jujutsu sorcerer approaching you.
“nice singing,” gojo calls out.
taking a moment to recover from your adrenaline rush, you exhale a simple “thanks.”
“although,” he drawls, “you didn’t need to get up on stage and sing it. you could've just told me that you wanted me.”
“i don't know what you’re talking about,” you say, feigning ignorance.
“oh really?” his fingers gently take hold of your chin and, in spite of his sunglasses, you know that his eyes are staring at your lips. “because i could make it worth your time”
“where’s your date?”
“she left. something about other women who are in love with me being ‘rude’ and ‘offensive.’”
“good,” you whisper, standing on your toes, “because you’re all mine.”
“am i?”—he leans down so your lips now hover over each other’s.
“want me to prove it?”
“let’s get out of here.”
#laal-ishq entries#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk entries#gojo satoru x reader
41 notes
·
View notes
Note
So ive followed you a VERY long time (like from the deviantart days lmao) and i only just realised that you were talking about ocd in that post. Just wanted to let you know that i have ocd as well and god it is exhausting and i know exactly how you feel! I finally start therapy for it in 2 weeks. Pls know that i love your art and you very much and appreciate everything you create and share with us. All the best!! X
Hey you, I know you! Thank you for coming to my inbox and sharing this with me, I appreciate that so much. :) I am SUPER happy for you that you are about to get the help you need, that is awesome. I wish I could have had it at the time!
(And oh boy, the good old deviantart days, haha! Always happy to have my longtime followers around! :D)
OCD is exhausting indeed. People who aren’t affected can’t imagine what a nightmare it is. I, personally, am more prone to intrusive thoughts than actual obsessive-compulsive behavior. When people hear „OCD“, they usually think of obsessive hand washing or „leaving out every black tile while walking through a kitchen“ or so, while it can manifest in other ways. I didn’t know back then. I just thought I was going completely crazy at the time. I think I mentioned my disorder at times but I never actually openly talked about my own experiences (where I come from, mental disorders are a big NO NO, because it’s all in your head, just pull yourself together, other people are ACTUALLY suffering, it’s just dumb thoughts, you just need to think positive, y’know).
I kinda feel like doing it now. Just to get it out, and also to occupy my brain and hands and hey, maybe someone else can pick this up and find themselves in my own experiences. I sure know how relieved I was when I found out I wasn’t alone with my what I thought was a ‚Very Weird, Unique and Niche Problem‘.
I gotta admit first - I’m doing much better nowadays. Even my worst days, as horrible as they may feel at the time, do in no way compare to the hell I went through in the second half of 2015. I have come a long way since my last (and so far worst... omg, oof, I hope there won’t be another) episode of intrusive thoughts. But, oh boy, was it intense. It was the absolute worst time of my life, ever. I’m not writing this to scare anyone. Anyone who is familiar with this, will know how bad it is and anyone who can’t relate at all won’t feel affected anyway and will maybe even think something along the lines of „What the fuck?!“. I get it. It DOES sound crazy.
I have always been an overthinker. I always needed more validation and reassurance than other people around me and for the longest time I had no idea why that was. It was usually subtle - always kinda there but never strong enough to actually affect my life in a negative way. I just felt off at times, and not always super good. But I was generally ok, I could always manage.
Until that one episode that changed my life forever. I know that sounds dramatic but, even though I am in a good place nowadays, it sure DID change my life. I was 31, I lived together with my then-boyfriend and I still remember the exact date. Friday, July 24th, 2015. I remember the exact moment when my entire mind collapsed. It’s so weird, it literally happened from one second to the other. I am not making this up to sound more dramatic, it was a matter of seconds.
I was on my way home after work and I felt… restless and stressed. It felt good to get off work (it was my first full time job and... it didn’t go well, to put it nicely) but I was no longer really looking forward to my week off, and our trip to our favorite Open Air the following week. I picked up some dinner on my way, I came home, and I saw my boyfriend in the middle of the living room, he was making some preparations for our upcoming trip. When I saw him, tall and handsome and smiling at me, I smiled back but inside I felt like crying. My smile was fake. Kissing him felt weird, and also fake. And all of a sudden, there it was. The life changing thought:
„I don’t love him anymore.“
A simple thought. I had weird thoughts before, like anyone does, but they never had any greater impact on me. This time, though, that one thought knocked me off my feet. Not literally, I had turned into a pillar of salt somehow. This was the Perfect Man Of My Dreams (at least that was what I thought back then). The man I wanted to spend my life with, the man who made me happy every day! How could that even be, how could I even think something like that?
I felt even more restless. I didn’t tell him, of course. When he asked how my day was, I put on my fake smile again and said it was okay. We ate our dinner (although I had instantly lost any appetite), and I kept looking at him and the thoughts... just kept coming back.
You don’t love him anymore.
What if you don’t love him anymore?
On repeat. It was awful. I just couldn’t shake them off.
It’s the stress, I tried to tell myself. You’re overworked. It’ll be good, you just need some rest.
But I couldn’t relax. My heart was racing, my blood was pumping. I didn’t know what was going on. I begged him to leave his work undone and take me out for an after work drink and he agreed. All the time, the thoughts wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t want to think them, but they were merciless, they just kept coming back. I felt so helpless.
A few drinks later, I had calmed down a bit, at least so much that I could stand to look at my BFs face again without feeling guilty. There you go, I said to myself, not quite convinced, you’ll be good. It’s already wearing off. When we crawled into bed later, I was tired and relaxed (and tipsy) enough to sleep and convinced that this was just a little glitch, that things would be just fine in the morning.
When I woke up, I felt exhausted. My heart was racing... and the thoughts came back IMMEDIATELY.
You don’t love him anymore. You gotta leave him.
What. The. HELL!? Why are these thoughts still a thing? Why are they still there? Why do they keep coming back?
I kept trying to push them away but the more I tried, the more intense they became. As if they tried to spite me. I started losing focus on everything else around me, the world slowly started to blur. It was just Me And My Thoughts from here. I tried my best to hide my state, and I think I managed for a while, but I felt like a robot any time I talked to someone. When people would pick up on my confusion, I usually brushed their concerns off. It’s nothing, I’m good.
I mean... how do you even tell someone that you just. can’t. stop. thinking. about whether you still love your boyfriend or not? According to the world, that is something you “just feel and know” after all. Except that I didn’t. I had no clue. I couldn’t feel anything. But, according to the world, that was perfectly normal, too. “Honeymoon phase is over at some point, babe. That’s everyday life, you grow comfy, it’s no longer a flash of feelings every day, you know that. You guys have been together for a while after all, what did you expect?!” ... what I felt didn’t feel like comfy everyday life either, though. Comfy everday life shouldn’t come with high key anxiety, sleepless nights and a loss of appetite at any lived second. If that was comfy everyday life, I sure didn’t want it.
So, what do you do when you have no clue about something? Right! Google! Go and ask the world! “How do you know that you still love your partner?”, “Is the love gone?” ... I spent hours, DAYS doing that, but no answer I found was remotely statisfying (or maybe it was for a minute, but the reassurance never lasted long) and I felt that those articles didn’t actually understand what I was asking in first place. I would spend every day like that. Permanently asking myself the same questions, analyzing myself, testing if the Big Feels for the man had decided to come back... nah, not really. Maybe NOW? If I just look at him close enough?! ... maybe if I squint a little?! Fuck, still nothing! Niente! Nada! I am a horrible person, aaah!
(Our open air trip was an emotional disaster by the way, I felt horrible all the time, and the permanent rain didn’t help. -3/10, do not recommend).
If I had known at the time that I wouldn’t spend just a few days but (more or less) six months with this shit... oof. I was already exhausted after those few days.
Over the course of the next weeks I stopped eating almost entirely. I just couldn’t. This permanent tight anxiety knot in my stomach made me want to throw up at the mere thought of food. At my worst point I weighed 138 lbs (63 kg), at 6 ft 1 (1,85 m). I often joked about how I had almost reached runway model standard. I was sick, I was weak, I was scared, but I just couldn’t eat and the bits I DID force myself to eat were burned almost right away by my crippling anxiety. (I still have clothes from that time, and I sometimes beat myself up for no longer fitting into them before I remember that I should NEVER fit into them EVER again.)
Instead I smoked a pack a day. I hardly got any sleep and when I did, it wasn’t relaxing. Always in Fight and Flight mode. My body was at alert level any minute, any day. I’m still asking myself how it could be that I never actually... collapsed. I was always tired, exhausted and malnourished... I dunno, you tell me.
The thoughts never really disappeared. They kept coming back in all variations. You don’t love him anymore. You have to leave him. You may not want to, but you have to. You don’t love him. I had very few “good moments” in between but in those good moments, my mind was usually frantically looking for explanations and reasons behind all this. For ways to improve my relationship, to feel better about my boyfriend. I came up with the WEIRDEST shit. Almost every day I found something new that bothered me. One day he was a little boring. That’s it! We gotta go out more, do more stuff, that’ll change everything. ... aaah, no. Guess not. The next day, it was something else. The day after THAT, it was something entirely different again.
I was suddenly prone to making some HELLA weird impulsive decisions, too. „I gotta break off contact to that one person RIGHT now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!“, “I gotta talk to my mom about THAT particular incident in my childhood right now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”, “I gotta make a trip to the mall JUST NOW, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”… the decisions made total sense to me the second I made them, for about ten minutes at most, but the initial rush of relief started to fade again quickly and I frantically started looking for new solutions. Google was my best friend. I couldn’t go a day without googling exessively. Overthinking, pacing, googling. Any day, any hour awake. Over weeks. A few months even. My mind was constantly reeling. It was a bottomless pit.
I cannot put into words how exhausting that was. Sometimes the idea of throwing myself out of the next window seemed SO tempting, not because I wanted to die, but because I wanted the thoughts to stop tormenting me.
(I was out of regular therapy at the time, btw. I thought about calling my therapist about it but never did it. I felt isolated, I literally thought I had to do this all by myself.)
At some point, a few months into it, I somehow transferred to zombie mode. The thoughts became a little less intense over time. They were never gone but not quite as nagging anymore. But any time I wasn’t in alert mode, I felt just hollow instead. Sucked dry of any joy, of any emotion, of any sign of life. I just... functioned. Still tried to hide it. I dunno how well I did with that. Probably not at all well. I kept it all to myself, just because it felt that ridiculous. Tried to find excuses. “I’m just tired.”, “You know, there’s a lot going on in my head right now, but I’ll be good.” ... truth is that I don’t remember a whole lot of that time, it’s all blurry. There are just a few significant moments.
Such as that one evening, after work, when I left the building, made a few steps and stood five (or ten? fifteen??? who knows?! not me.) minutes on the spot, motionless, because I could no longer remember my way home.
I got fired from that job, by the way. I’m sure it was mostly due to low performance, I get it, but I can’t blame my poor state alone - they were also assholes.
Anyway.
I had, of course, never stopped the googling and one day, after hours of browsing any niche I hoped I hadn’t browsed yet, I somehow found a blog written by a young woman like me. The description tackled almost all of my thought patterns and I was blown. away. She asked herself the very same questions, with the very same twists, and... she even had a name for it.
ROCD. Relationship Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
I cried for what felt like hours. Out of relief. There was a person in this world who knew exactly what I was going through. And she even had tips how to overcome it. It wasn’t the first time I had heard about OCD, but as it had never affected me in any way before (I, too, associated it with compulsive hand washing and tile jumping), I wouldn’t have thought of it. After doing my own intense research on the subject, a huge part of me and my life finally started making sense to me. Not much was known about ROCD at the time, but it kinda didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was the OCD part. The subject of the thoughts is entirely interchangable. It’s the chain of thoughts itself that has to be broken. Don’t focus on the relationship. Break the chain instead.
The internet also recommended exposure therapy but as therapy wasn’t an option at the time (weird German laws... regular health insurance covers only a limited amount of therapy lessons within a certain span of time and I had used mine up and there was no way I could pay myself), I decided to try it myself, the key points being:
* No more googling, no more reassurance. Learn to live with the uncertainty, learn to live with Not Knowing.
* Let the thoughts happen. Watch them pass by. They’re just thoughts, they can’t harm you. Don’t fight them, just recognize them and let them stay, they’ll get less scary over time.
* Focus on other things, as hard as it is. Try to occupy your mind and your body. Any minute you spend doing something else but brooding is a win.
It all sounded so very abstract at the time, but I was determined to give it a try. Oh gosh, was it hard. After months of emotional torment and getting used to unhealthy ways of coping, it was SO DAMN FUCKING HARD to NOT google. To NOT think. It felt like torment all over again. How was I supposed to just let the thought sit with me!? It was scary, I didn’t want it! Just ONE little peek, only a second, come ON! I won’t do it again after that?!
Oh god, it was the worst, it really was. Trying to break the chain while I was so desperate to save my relationship was terrible. I honestly don’t remember HOW I made it... but I made it. I somehow... clawed and bit my way out of it. I went right through the pain and made it. It’s not actually a linear process but there comes this point (and I know a few people I met on online platforms who would back me up on this) when you know the worst is over. You just know it. Things weren’t exactly good by the time the thoughts were history but I had reign over my own head again, I could actually SEE the world again, and that was worth everything plus my body weight in gold.
I’ll stop right here because the following months weren’t about my OCD anymore, but about figuring out needs, figuring out myself and what I wanted from life and this particular relationship and it’s not quite relevant and another story. (I DID love my ex-BF but it turned out he wasn’t at all good for me, I had ignored all the red flags for too long, and it didn’t take long after this for us to go separate ways)
I hated this particular time in my life while it lasted but I have learned and taken so much from it. It has changed my life in so many ways. I learned that things are never set in stone, not for anyone. That there will always be uncertain times on our ways. That change is always scary. That it’s okay to be scared. That staying in crappy situations for the sake of it isn’t always the right thing to do. Sometimes, doing the right thing (aka leaving a relationship that isn’t good for you) can make you sad. Love does not equal compatibility.
Looking back, I am - in a very bizarre and twisted way - grateful for the experience. It was an incredibly important lesson for me that taught me to be kinder to myself, to look out for myself and to listen to my own needs. That I should put myself first at times. For the first time of my life, I really got in touch with myself and my own emotions. I learned to understand them, I learned where they come from. I learned to cut myself slack at times.
The list goes on and on, but you get my drift. I know myself inside and out at this point. That wasn’t always the case. Not until 2016.
It still comes back at times. Not with such full force, but it keeps creeping back in, pretty much any time I have to deal with uncertainty in my life. Bad news at work, not hearing from a friend for a while that I’m dying to hear from (inevitably thinking that they MUST be mad at me) or when I spot a few symptoms of sickness that I’m not familiar with (I practically never get sick). Not Knowing What Will Happen drives me CRAZY. I hate uncertainty, I need my life to be stable and calm to fully function.
Now, in COVID times, it’s mostly the fear of suffering from an incurable disease. AGAIN. I’m familiar with that, too. I’m not even scared of catching the virus, I just fell right back into overthinking any symptom I have, even if it’s just a short pain in the neck or whatever (you know, things that one usually brushes off). When my life was busier, I was MUCH better at handling those thoughts. Most of the time, they didn’t even come up in first place. Sitting inside and avoiding contact 99,9% of all times, and having little to no actual distraction („reading/watching movies“ doesn’t help me personally, it does’t occupy my mind enough, I usually just stare right through the pages/screen), however, leaves FAR too much time for the thoughts to unfold, once they come up.
This subtle but lingering concern for my health puts my body into a permanent state of anxiety once more. Fight and Flight mode. The pace of my heartbeat is always slightly, but perpetually, increased. It isn’t always outright panic attacks, it’s this constant state of having to be… alert. Something MIGHT happen, y’know. Be prepared. Relaxing and doing nice things becomes almost impossible. Instead, I get tired and exhausted. Depressed, even. It sucks the joy right out of me. I feel like living under a glass dome. I see what’s happening around me but I am unable to connect, emotionally. People keep living their lives and I can watch them, but I can’t be a part of it. It’s a deeply crushing feeling. I manage to somehow function but I don’t really feel alive. My abandonment issues and fear of „getting left behind“ kicked in again, too. I want to catch up and take part but can’t so I stress myself over THAT, too. This only adds to the exhaustion and makes me feel even more isolated.
Hello, vicious circle, my old friend.
I didn’t even realize that I had such huge potential to fall right back into it. It all started… I dunno, by mid/end of January?? It’s a bit blurry this time. It is directly connected to Germany’s recent lockdown, though. A massive case of Not Knowing How Things Will Turn Out. I failed to take better care of myself in the past few weeks. And now I’m here. AGAIN. Ugh.
But well, as I said, it’s not as bad and, as I said, I have at least learned some important things over the years. In this particular case of intrusive thoughts, the first rule is: NEVER GOOGLE SYMPTOMS. And never google shit like „chances to survive (whatever illness think you have at the time)“, either. The mind longs for reassurance but googling symptoms is BAD, as we all know by now. It’s not even reassuring when you do it. Because you’ll inevitably end up diving through the vast internet for HOURS, picking up an entry that some person named Kevin made on a cancer forum way back in 2004, saying that his uncle died the next day after finding out he has cancer and that is, OF COURSE, what will happen to YOU, too. There is no other way. YOU WILL DIE.
Excuse the text walls. I took an opportunity to ramble about my own experience, for the first time ever since it happened (not including the few short talks I had with the few people I met on internet forums).
To anyone who made it this far: Thank you so much for reading. It sure felt good to write this down for once, even if it’s just a short summary (yes, really, I mean, we’re talking six-ish months here), and the descriptions fall woefully short. If anyone affected by the same happens to read this - I am so, SO sorry you are suffering so much. You are NOT alone and you are NOT weird. Talk to someone. Open up. To your doctor, or you therapist, if you have one. To a person you trust. It is the worst but there are ways, there is help. I wish I had known at the time it started for me.
You know now. :)
P.S.: DON’T FUCKING GOOGLE:
#ocd#rocd#obsessive compulsive disorder#relationship obsessive compulsive disorder#mental disorder#sanne rambles
25 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
miamigal67-blog
Life the Positive Journey
silentsymbols
silentsymbols
i-see-your-cat
That guy named #kœé3&ü*
ficojasulan
Untitled
tooartfulforyou
Too Artful For You