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atinylittlepain · 18 days

Text

Part Two

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

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joel miller masterlist

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She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 5.1k

chapter content info | 18+ little angst, couples counseling, just two tired people trying to figure out the tangle of their relationship together

a/n | part two is here, and i'd just like to say thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part - i know this isnt the usual peepaw fare, so thanks for giving her a chance - and also big thank you to @wannab-urs for beta-ing this bad boy <3

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This is not a failure. She is not failing. They are not failing. Every Thursday at four o’clock she shuts her laptop and locks her office and stops in the bathroom at work, silently repeats these things to herself in her mind while she rubs her fingers at smudged mascara in the bathroom mirror. Like a mantra, though she’s not sure she’s fully bought into it yet. Because the truth is, she has had plenty of conversations with plenty of girlfriends that, really, they shouldn’t have been having about other girlfriends, not in the room with us girlfriends who, did you hear, started going to therapy and, did you hear, started going to therapy with their, oh no, husbands. Yes, she has been the bitch who has made jokes about death knells and a marriage’s last gasp for breath, jokes about the husband having the emotional range of a goldfish, and the wife being so up the husband’s ass she should give him a colonoscopy while she’s at it. She’s not really making jokes like those anymore.

She’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing this Thursday at four o’clock. When they first went to Vicky (LMFT, for the record) her fundamental decree had been a period of full separation. Sixteen years, she had asked, and they had nodded, and she had said whoa boy, yeah, y’all need to back off each other before we do anything else. If Paula Dean had a penchant for self-help instead of butter, she’d be something like Vicky. And so, with all the care of a drill sergeant delivering commands, or a mechanic running a diagnostic on a fucked-up car, Vicky had told them how this is going to go. An apartment, she said, don’t care which one of you lives in it. Minimal contact between sessions, right, keep it civil, right, this isn’t for forever, right. So Joel got an apartment, and Tommy helped him move all the furniture in the basement with admittedly minimal, but still present, wariness, and for the last four weeks they’ve been doing everything their beloved herr-therapist tells them. She supposes it’s working, although you can’t really do much fighting when you only see the other person for ninety minutes every Thursday so, the results might be confounded, actually.

“Hey there.” Hey there? What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those words to her, ever, maybe not to anyone actually. He feels a little insane, a little itchy under the skin, mouth full of cotton, brain too, because they’re not supposed to be doing this, not really. The first time she’s seen the apartment, or, well, the doorway of the apartment, doesn’t really seem interested in stepping further inside, running her curled palm up and down the strap of her purse and right, not here for that. He shuts the door behind him and then they’re on their way to therapy because it’s four o’clock on Thursday and this is what they do now at four o’clock on Thursday.

“Thanks again. I didn’t think my car would still be in the shop today.”

“Oh of course, you said it’s a transmission leak?”

“Yeah, the bad, expensive kind that’s above my paygrade. Guy said they’re still waiting on a part for it.”

“Well I’m off work tomorrow if you need a ride anywhere.”

“Vicky’ll get pissed.”

“If she finds out. Are you gonna tell on me to Vicky?” It’s a joke, they can joke, right? She laughs a little on the end of her words to make it clear, hey, it’s a joke, awkward and out of touch and unsure of what the rules are. But he offers a breath of a laugh, at least, fine, it’s fine, they’re fine, and now they’re silent driving to Vicky’s office.

Should he ask her how her week has been? If the kitchen sink is still leaking? He’s not sure. Not sure about any of it, really. Every week, Vicky asks them how they think they’re doing and Cass doesn’t even hesitate. Good, she says. Not fine, not okay, but good, usually with a sure, terse nod. It takes him a little longer to find the right word to describe how he’s doing. Not sure about that either, but it’s definitely not good. Some things are better, sure, easier not to argue when under foot, easier not to remember all the ghosts they’ve built up around themselves. But at the most basic level, he misses her, even misses arguing with her, in a perpetual state of missing something, walking around and wondering if he left his wallet at home, or if he remembered to call a client about a new build, wondering if he’s missing something essential, a limb or an organ he didn’t know about. No, none of that. Missing something else.

“You’re not wearing your ring.” She flexes her left hand over the steering wheel in response, her very bare ring finger making him feel a quick pinch of something he’ll call anger, though it’s probably something else entirely.

“No, Vicky advised I try not wearing it during the separation.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you to do that?”

“Joel.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re swearing.”

“Well, why didn’t she say the same thing to me?”

“Maybe because I told her this is how you would react.”

“I think I’m having a pretty normal reaction to it, actually.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just for now.”

“Right.”

“It is.”

“Seems like a strange thing to advise someone to do when they’ve been married for nearly two decades.” She parks outside of the office complex that Vicky works in, lets out a long sigh through her nose and doesn’t spare him a glance as she reaches around to the backseat and pulls her purse up front, producing her ring from somewhere deep inside of it and sliding it back on her finger.

“There, are you happy now?”

“Why the hell were you keeping it in your purse?”

“Oh my god, really?”

“That’s a real easy way to lose it is all I’m saying.” The truth is, she’s been keeping it in her purse in order to have easy access to it. Like a pulsepoint, sometimes she just needs to know it’s there, reaching into her purse underneath her desk and yep, still there, still okay. Sometimes she doesn’t get through a whole day without putting it back on. Like reflex, like ghost limb aching. But she’s not about to tell him that.

“Do not bring this up with Vicky.”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know we drove here together.”

“You’re that worried about what Vicky thinks?”

“She’s our therapist, I’m a healthy and appropriate amount worried about what Vicky thinks.”

“You know she’s not the arbiter of marriage just because she has a couple of degrees, right?”

“Really, the arbiter of marriage?”

“Are you doing that thing you do, is that what this is?”

“What thing?”

“Cass.”

“What thing?”

“Are you trying to win therapy?” Fuck him. No, really, fuck him. He’s doing that thing, his thing to her thing, half a smile in the passenger’s seat like he’s got her. Awful, of course he’s got her, smug and sure in his getting her. She doesn’t answer his question, knowing that her silence is an answer in and of itself and not really caring because they have therapy, damn it, and it’s going to be his fault if they’re late to therapy, damn it.

“You know, I’m starting to see why Vicky told us no carpooling to sessions.” Slammed shut, he sighs when she gets out of the car, thinking idly to himself that yes, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with that commandment of their therapist either. At the very least, Cass’ ring is still on her finger. He tried a few times in the past to get her something new, something nicer than the gold band he had given her when they were still young and still not able to afford much of anything, but sure enough in each other to want to keep doing it, all of it, together. No, she would tell him, doesn’t want anything other than the gold band. What she doesn’t know is that he pawned his grandfather’s watch and an electric saw for the ring the shop owner kept in a padlocked display case. Twenty-six years old, and looking back, he thinks he would have sold a whole lot more just to get it for her.

He used to call her pearl. Something about grit that would make her roll her eyes and ask him what late night National Geographic TV special he got that line from, all the while inwardly swooning because sure, she had been baby before, babe, an errant sweetheart even, but pearl was new, and tooth-decayingly sweet. And when he proposed, Sarah bouncing around them like a manic cupid, Cassandra made an ugly sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, little black velvet box and a ring that was more signet than wedding, simple and gold and a single pearl set in the center of it. Her hands clasped, she runs the pad of her finger over her ring, wordless and worrying it on the elevator ride up to Vicky’s office.

Vicky has a thing for lamps and art prints of naked women. Her waiting room is a little dim, no windows, green velveteen loveseat and two high-backed wooden chairs that they always take when they get here, his eyes scanning over the coffee table laden with back-ordered Psychology Today magazines, headlines about overcoming anxiety and exercising your way out of depression. There had been one about postpartum depression somewhere in the pile the last time they came, but he had made a point of hanging back after Cass left, some excuse about checking an insurance thing with Vicky, though what he really did was pluck out that magazine and throw it away in the men’s restroom down the hall. One less thing to worry about, at the least.

“Hi, you two, come on back.” The sessions always start the same. Vicky asks them how they think the week went, and they both offer up some iteration of fine. Vicky asks them if they’ve been upholding their phase of separation, and she answers before Joel can, pointedly not looking at him, yes, no contact between sessions. But apparently, this week is going to be different.

“We are nearing the end of the total separation phase. After this initial period of cooling off for both of you, the real work can begin.” Right, phases, because Vicky works in phases like this is some sort of military siege. He tries not to roll his eyes at the real work beginning.

“Can either of you remember the last date you went on together?”

“It would’ve been in August, right before the separation.” Cass scoffs at his answer, tilt of her head like, really?

“Tommy and Maria’s baby shower hardly counts as a date. But we did go to dinner at the end of July.”

“I don’t think your work banquet counts either.” Vicky hits them with that look, that yeah, that’s what I thought look, all raised brow and scrunched nose and nodding. Not that she is, but if she, hypothetically, were trying to win therapy, Cassandra thinks she wouldn’t be doing a great job of it right now.

“Right, well, you’ve made my point for me. It’s not unusual for people who have been together for as long as you two have to let things like this fall to the wayside. However, it can be very helpful to reestablish some of these routines. Think of it as marriage maintenance.”

“So you want us to start going on dates again?”

“Yes, but not with each other.” Did she? Did he? Hear that right? Cass is nodding like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world, like, yes, of course, this is just the solution they’ve been looking for. This time, he doesn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of them look at him like, yes, keep up, please, let us explain this to you very slowly so you can keep up, please. Something about seeing what life is like outside of their marriage, testing the waters, seeing if they still like the same things without their extra marital limb, something about making a decision about their marriage, though he tunes most of that part out because, no, thanks, no new decision has been needed since he got down on one knee during that trip to Galveston, sunscreen and sticky sweet and he’s not sure if he or Sarah was more excited, but he was definitely more nervous. And Cass said yes, and then he wasn’t nervous anymore, not scared anymore, and that’s all there was to it, is to it, right? Right.

“This is the closing exercise of the total separation phase. It’s really important that you both have this opportunity to see what it’s like to be back in the dating pool. Think of it as a trial run of if you decide to make this separation–”

“No, no thanks. That’s not– we’re not those people, so, you know, we can just move onto the next phase.”

“Joel.” The mom voice of all things, and he knows for certain now that Cass is trying to win therapy, nudging her shoe into the side of his, and, come on, really? She’s really bought that hard into what Vicky’s selling? Now that, that isn’t like her, at all.

“What feelings are coming up for you right now, Joel?” She fucking hates that question, and she imagines that he does too, fingers drumming on his knee, long sigh, and she knows that look, that’s his getting ready to bolt look. Big man, big, skittish man who has accidentally nailed his fingers to house frames and hardly shed a tear. But feelings? Yeah, forget it.

“Uh, I guess I’m confused as to why that is so important for us to do. We came here to help our– to help us, not to create more problems.”

“And you think that if you and Cassandra went on dates, one date, with other people, that it would create more problems in your marriage?” Well, it’s hardly rocket science, Vicky, though judging by the way she’s speaking to him, he’s pretty sure he failed some kind of test of hers. He doesn’t particularly care.

“I imagine it’d do that to anyone’s marriage.”

“It’s just one date, it’s a part of the process.” She’s starting to get pissed, and trying very hard not to show it in front of Vicky should she get the what feelings are coming up for you treatment. When they agreed to start going to therapy, like a pair of dogs gagging down a pill, they had both agreed to put their full effort into it, and if Vicky wasn’t in the room with them currently, Cassandra would sharply remind him of that agreement.

“Maybe I should clarify the expectations around this exercise. It’s one date, preferably with people outside of your shared social circle, and it would be best if the focus is just on the date, no sexual relations.”

“Oh really, you think that’d be best?”

“Joel.” He gives her a slack and slanted look, speaking two different languages, apparently. And really, she doesn’t see what the big deal is. One date versus sixteen years is pretty obvious math for her to square up, though it doesn’t seem to be for him. But, watching him engage in psychological tennis with Vicky, some new jab dripping in sarcasm for every reassurance she tries to offer him, the realization comes to Cassandra slowly, simply. Joel is scared.

By the time they leave Vicky’s office, he feels deflated, defeated, because yes, they are, apparently, going to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them, scheduled in three weeks instead of one to give them time to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them.

“Can’t we just, you know, say we did it but not actually do it?”

“Are you serious right now?” Judging by the look she gives him, a quick, sharp flicker of her eyes before she focuses back on the road, he thinks he probably shouldn’t say anything else. He shouldn’t, but, well.

“Is this about pleasing Vicky, or are you just that interested in dating someone else?”

“Don’t be a child about this, Joel. It’s a therapeutic–”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. I don’t– I already know what I want, and I don’t need to go testing the waters to be sure of it. What I’m not so sure about is if you can say the same.” She can’t put her finger on anything specific, probably just a slow-building amalgamation of things. Stressful week at work, and the leaking sink getting worse, and her doctor increasing a medication dosage that’s made her body feel like something other than her body, and this fucking therapy and this fucking trying and she’s trying so hard and she feels like she’s failing and when she glances at him he looks hurt, really hurt, a close crumple in his face, deep frown, and it frustrates her because all she’s trying to do is do it right, and all she gets is this constant rhythm of resistance, this push and pull and yes, it’s all of that, all of that creeping up her throat tight and hot and curling behind her eyes sending salt pinpricks and sharp pangs. When the first sob breaks, it does so as a gasp, like a small and stunned thing in her chest. And, well, it’s never uphill from there, is it?

“Do you– do we need to pull over?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking pull over. I’m not an invalid, I can cry and drive at the same time.” Except it doesn’t come out quite like that, not smooth like that. The words get stop-started with each new shudder, new stutter, hiccuping on fucking and invalid. The world has gone to slanted stained-glass through all her tears.

Unsure what to do, but that’s nothing new. He doesn’t say anything else, watches her through the wary side of his eye, sobs turning into something more subdued, little wounded sounds high in her throat, a choice fuck you with a little more bite behind it when someone cuts her off merging onto the highway. He feels useless, feels like, maybe, this is what Vicky should be talking with them about instead of her siege on marriage plan. All he knows is that he seems to get it wrong every time, so this time, he doesn’t interject or intervene, doesn’t say any more than he already has. He lets her cry, and he lets her drive.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When he decided he was going to fix things for her, or just fix her, really. His lady in pieces and he was going to put her back together, and it seemed like every time he tried to, she just shattered a little more. That April is the obvious answer, the most shattered he had ever seen her. But the fighting had started before then, and so had the fixing that wasn’t really fixing. Like a relief, like a release, the slow realization that no, it never worked, and no, it was never going to work. The sobs turn into shivers turn into something even smaller. By the time they pull up in front of his apartment complex, it has passed.

“I just– I want to do this right, this therapy thing, and I want it to work, and I want it to work so we can be okay again. That’s what I want.” The words hang between them. He makes no move to get out of the car, and she counts her inhales in the silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It feels like a child’s logic, or maybe a hail Mary, and she knows it, feels a little insane saying it, the words fitting strangely in her mouth. The brief wondering comes to her, what would she have said about where they are now to her girlfriends, what snark, what sharp jokes at their expense? Him in an apartment and a fifteen minute drive separating them and a woman named Vicky unraveling (and in theory, putting back together) their marriage in phases, fucking phases, and fucking Vicky. She doesn’t want to go on a date with someone else, and she doesn’t know why she’s taking Vicky’s instructions as gospel. But she does know, doesn’t she? It’s not about Vicky, not about Vicky and her fucking phases. Fixing, being fixed, that’s what she wants.

“So, you’re saying you want us to date other people in order to fix our marriage.” Grateful that she takes it for the joke he meant it as, it’s just enough to slough off some of the tension, roll of her eyes, please. They both let out a sigh, too tired for much else. But maybe, he thinks, this counts as progress, sitting here with her in the car and the sun washing everything down burnt and orange. He watches her eyes drop shut for a moment, fine lines like porcelain fissures and he loves those lines, liked catching her in the bathroom with her face pressed up close to the mirror and her fingers pulling those lines taut around her eyes, her mouth. He’d pull her hands away from her face, ask her if she was planning her halloween costume for next year, earning a scoff and a roll of her eyes and her trying to pull away from him, and he wouldn’t let her. Making it better with kisses to those lines, and eventually, her pressing her fingers as light as prayers over his, an implicit wondering, where did the time go?

“Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just lie to Vicky. We could still get like, an A-minus in therapy if we leave just one thing out.”

“I didn’t realize therapy came with a grade.” He smiles, all soft, and she can’t help the sheepish bloom in her chest, rolling her lips back into her mouth to hide her own grin, eventually, reluctantly, admitting in a quiet, skewed to the side voice, okay, so maybe, maybe I was doing that thing, that winning thing. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s a mercy. Just nods, of course, and of course, he knew, maybe even before she did, and is that knowing not a mercy too? She thinks it is.

“I want to do this right too, Cass. And, I mean, we’re paying Vicky enough money that we should do what she tells us to.”

“Are you saying you want to do it then?”

“Want is a strong word.”

“Okay, are you saying you’re willing to do it?”

“It’s just the one?”

“Just the one.”

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it. We better get a goddamn A-plus at the end of this.”

“Mmm, gold stars too.” Another sigh, another settling. How nice, another sigh, another settling. It’s a strange equation, but she thinks it still adds up. Neither of them want to do this, not really, but they’re willing to, and they’re willing to because of each other. Willing to try and get it right for each other. Just, well, ignore the finer details of what getting it right entails.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“On Monday, yeah. Called to wish me a happy birthday.”

“Well, only off by four days, not too bad.”

“Oh no, she called on Monday because she was, and I quote, too busy the rest of the week to call.”

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“Is it bad that sometimes I kinda hate it?”

“Hate what?”

“That she’s like, a fully-formed person now. I miss the days when she was a little blob who liked holding onto me by one of my belt loops.” He has to smile, nod, because he knows exactly what she means. And the truth of it is that Sarah was so good, maybe the best, if he’s allowed to give his completely biased opinion. And the other truth, Cass is, was, one of those people simply meant to be a parent, a mother. He remembers when they first started dating, and all the exhausting maneuvering he did, getting his parents or Tommy to watch Sarah, a string of canceled dinner plans when his kid couldn’t seem to stop catching things at daycare. He was sure that Cass would lose interest every time another piece of his reality was revealed to her. After all, he was not unfamiliar with being left behind. But that never happened, she stayed every time.

It was Cass who first suggested it. Didn't want to impose, but what if, maybe we could, would it be okay if, why don’t we. They went to the zoo that weekend, if he remembers correctly, Sarah in tow, shy at first around the woman she barely knew, though she bloomed over the course of the day. Yes, he thinks, it was the zoo, because he remembers how by the end of the day, Cass had her on her hip, as easy as anything, so she could get a better view of the rhinos. He knows now that, even in those earliest days, she loved his kid just as much as she loved him. He knows now what a gift that was, and continues to be.

“She’s gonna be alright, Cass. We did good with her.” She sighs, yeah, we did. She had been worried about telling her about the whole lieutenant-LMFT thing, the whole quasi-separation thing, but that was a direct command from Vicky, letting the family know what was going on. Sarah had taken it surprisingly well when she called, could be good, mom, like a reset. Of course, they kept the worst of it away from her, and of course, she still knew something had changed, something not right between them. No one was left unscathed after that April.

From the start, loving him included loving Sarah. It was never difficult for her to do both. Sweet girl, bright like the sun girl, rounded cheeks and bouncing curls, and Cassandra found that her love for her had a particular effect on her heart. Whenever small hand reached for one of hers, whenever small face tucked into her neck, whether tear-damp or milk-tired, and eventually, whenever she was given the name mom, like a stop and restart of her heart, like something turning back on inside her and finally working right. An everything kind of love, to not only be chosen by him, but to be chosen by her too.

“Well, anyways, Vicky didn’t make any stipulations about birthdays, so I have something for you.” Just a small thing, she says, leaning over the console and into the back seat, and he knows better than to say no, shouldn’t have, because there’s already a perfect package being placed in his hands, navy blue wrapping paper and a white bow, and her hand cups underneath his for just a moment, there and gone.

The truth is she had already picked out this gift two months ago, what feels like a lifetime before this separation. Now, watching him open it, she’s a little worried it had been presumptuous of her, if not completely narcissistic. But if he thinks that, he makes no show of it, lets out a quiet laugh as he takes the watch out of the box and holds it up in the fading light to look at it.

“It’s a little sappy, maybe. But, well, we have something that kinda matches now.” Something is unfurling in his chest, heat loosening something he didn’t even realize he had been tightening up around. It’s a beautiful watch, rich leather strap and polished silver. And the face of it catches and shimmers a little in the light. He knows right away that it’s mother of pearl.

Here, she says, let me, and he does, feeling a little indulgent watching her fasten the watch around his wrist, and definitely breaking one of fucking Vicky’s fucking rules when he ducks his head down and steals a kiss, another one, letting the third deepen just a little, both of them humming because missed this, missed this, didn’t realize how much, but missed this.

“Thank you, pearly.” It feels good to be so close to him, noses brushing and smiles curling around each other. Feels like a relief.

“Happy birthday, one day ahead. We could, you know, do something tomorrow? Get dinner maybe?” Before he can answer, say yes, she’s already caught herself, sheepish smile and pulling a little further away and oh, right. She says sorry, wasn’t thinking, and they do an awkward dance around the whole thing, right, yeah, probably shouldn’t, right, yeah. He is not a hateful man, and it would be too strong to say he’d wish Vicky harm. But if something were to happen, in theory, that’d make Vicky go the fuck away, in theory, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it.

“See you next Thursday then?”

“Well, next next Thursday, because we have to do the– yeah.”

“Right, yeah.” Right, yeah, this is the part where he gets out of the car. The part where he goes up to his apartment and she drives home and they don’t eat dinner together and they don’t brush their teeth together and they don’t go to sleep together. Right, yeah. They say goodnight. He’d like to say love, but he doesn’t. She’d like to say love, but she doesn’t. And they part ways.

She hates being in this house alone. Leaves all the lights on all hours of the day and checks all the locks three times before going upstairs to bed. Passes by the closed door that remains closed with her breath held. She knows it makes no sense, but she’s been sleeping in the guestroom, makes the whole thing a little easier. Always had a tendency toward insomnia, tossing and turning brain and body.

When they were just starting to get more serious, and she was just starting to stay over at his more often, she got worried that eventually it'd drive him mad enough for the whole thing to not be worth it, neither of them getting much sleep as they learned how to share a bed together. And she doesn't remember how it started exactly, maybe out of a moment of pure exasperation, him draping just enough of his weight over her to press slower breath into her lungs and still her body. It became a routine, she'd ask could you? And he'd already know what she was asking for without her having to say any more than that. What she also doesn't remember, when that stopped working, when she stopped asking, and he stopped answering. She supposes it all happened slowly, just like the rest of it.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller au

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

Can I request your OC’s with a darling who has an accent? Like they grew up in speech therapy and they get made fun of for it sometimes and that causes them to not like their voice and stay quiet?

-🦇

[I kinda want to make Hedwig's and Jerry's ones oneshots. They're my favorite :>]

Warnings: violence, threats of cutting of tongues, genitalia, fingers and heads, arson, knives,

Silas:

You don't talk often and when you do, you only talk to him. Silas adores your voice. He encourages you to speak everytime you're together. He loves everything about it — everything from how you stutter slightly to how you pronounce your words. When you gather enough courage to tell you about the kids that used to make fun of you in your past, you can tell that something in his demenour shifts.

"Those little fuckers. Y/N, you're going to tell me their names with that wonderful, sweet little voice of yours and I'll pay them all a personal visit. I'll cut their tongues out, see how they feel about not being able to speak 'correctly'. Or better yet, I'll make them never be able to talk again."

Dr Kry:

As your personal doctor, Dr Kry has taken it upon himself to become your speech therapist as well (even if he doesn't have the license). He sits with you everyday and comforts himself with the thought that it's only him you actually talk to when he doesn't get many words out of you. He often compliments your voice and when you let him know that he seems to be the only one who likes it and that others have said something else ... he scoffs.

"Those kids were childish. You'll never have to speak with them again — you'll never have to speak to anyone again. If you really don't feel comfortable with your speech, I'll do it for you. I'll take every conversation ... if you just talk to me. I adore your voice. I love to hear it. I'll never mock you, okay?"

King Edmund:

There's much he doesn't know about you, but you know all about him. He wants to learn more about you, but you never open your mouth. It pains him like knives through his heart. He wants to talk to you more than anything. He wants to learn about your childhood, your family, your interests and where you're from — because he's noticed the accent, but he can't tell where it originates from. But when you do open up and he gets to know the horrors you've been through, he suddenly stops you.

"They'll pay. I'll tell my secretary to fix a public behading! Their heads are going to roll to my feet and I'll cut their tongues and grill them for supper! Don't worry, my queen, they'll never hurt you again, not as long as I'm here."

Jerry:

She doesn't pressure you to talk. When you're ready, you'll talk. She has looked up your personal information, but e few pieces of paper can't tell her everything. She wants to know more. One night when you're lying in her bed, skin touching and breaths trying to calm down you take the opportunity to tell her what she wants to hear now that you feel so warm. Jerry has placed your head on her bare chest and runs her fingers through your hair. Her acrylic nails feels like heaven. You can feel her tense.

"Who are these lowlives, hm? Tell me their names. Come on, baby, I'll revenge you. What should I do to them? Cut of their fingers? Their dicks, maybe? Why don't you want to tell me? Use your pretty, little voice and tell me. Don't protect them, they don't deserve it." As soon as you've told her, she gets up from the bed and starts dressing herself. "Don't stay up, I won't be back for quite a while. I'll give them what they deserve. Fuck, how much I love you. I'm the only one allowed to mock you."

Hedwig:

Hedwig takes care of everything for you. You don't want to talk? No problem. She'll talk for you. You'll whisper what you want to be said in her ear and she'll say it out loud! She's waiting for you to finish your sentences while you stutter and talks back to the teacher when they ask you to answer a question. When you one day tell him why you're so quiet and why you switched school ... she explodes. She forces you to tell her the names. While you're sleeping, she calls her private hitman and asks him to help her. Just a few hours later, five houses are set aflame and Hedwig's standing on the road with a smile on her face.

"That's what you deserve. That's what you all deserve. I'll never let anyone hurt my sweetheart."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere mafia #yandere doctor #clingy yandere #yandere female #female yandere #yandere ocs #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere reactions #possesive yandere #obsessive yandere #obsession #🦇 anon

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filmofhybe · 5 months

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Gingerbread Martini

🗯️ pairing : park jeongseong x oc 💌 Genre : fluff 1089 wc

warning : reader just gone through a break up , drinking

; AUTHORS NOTES : day 3 of “24 days of Christmas with filmofhybe” !! I have nothing to say but I hate school and want Christmas to come faster. I still haven’t got my friends any gifts and is making me go insane. But anyways enjoy!!

Y/n had always been a firm believer in the power of love. She had invested her heart and soul into a three-year relationship with her ex, hoping that it would last a lifetime. However, fate had different plans, and on the first of December, their love story came to an abrupt end. She struggled to cope with the fact she has just lost someone who she trielt thought would be the right person. Finding out he has been talking to multiple girls behind her back, felt like a knife stabbed into her heart. Not only did she felt bad for the girls but the way he had the audacity to blame it on her, because apparently she’s “too boring” for his liking.

Heartbroken and lost, Y/n found herself struggling to move on. Each day felt like an eternity, weighed down by the memories and the void left by her ex's departure. Desperate to numb her pain, she sought solace in the dimly lit corners of a local bar called IVORY BAR.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, Jay, the bar's manager, had been silently observing her from afar since the day she first walked through the door. Jay was a perceptive man; he could see the raw emotions of others at the bar, he could tell everyone’s current situation just by the glimpse of their face. I guess that’s what being a bar manager for a long time does to you - a therapist without actually getting a license. Jay etched on y/n’s beautiful face. the heaviness in her eyes, and the way she clung to her glass as if it were her only lifeline. Chucking down glass after glass of Ocean View, Margaritas, you name it since she stepped inside the humid yet calm bar.

It was on the 25th of December, a night when the world was immersed in the joyous spirit of Christmas, that Jay decided to take a leap of faith. He couldn't bear to see Y/n drown her sorrows any longer. With a mix of nervousness and determination, he took over the current bartender’s spot, making y/n a special Christmas drink.

As Y/n sat alone at the bar, nursing her drink, Jay approached her cautiously. "Excuse me," he said softly, sliding the Gingerbread Martini across the counter. "I thought you might enjoy this. It's on the house."

Y/n glanced up, surprised by the unexpected gesture. Her eyes met Jay's, and in that moment, something inexplicable passed between them. There was a warmth in Jay's gaze, a genuine concern that touched Y/n's wounded heart.

"Thank you," she replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "That's very kind of you." Jay lingered by her side, striking up a conversation that effortlessly flowed between them. “It’s nothing, I’ve been observing you since you came in every night. I can read your face clearly. Break up, can’t move on.” He said as he continues to wipe the delicate glass. Shocking y/n, was she that noticeable?

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be treated like that. Especially being out in the cold during Christmas.” He didn’t want to be rude, yet he didn’t want to not talk to her. This is probably his only chance.

“is honestly nothing I’m just needed a drink, or someone to talk to” Embarrassment creeping up to her cheeks that’s currently red from the amount of drinks she drank. Still sober enough to chuck a few more down.

“No you don’t have to be embarrassed by it. Don’t worry about them. Maybe you should take your mind off from him. Talk to me. Talk about your life to me.” Jay finally made his move, on the girl he has been secretly falling for since she stepped in.

As the night wore on, and the bar gradually emptied, Y/n made a decision that surprised even herself. She couldn't bear the thought of losing this newfound connection with Jay. She longed for the solace he brought, the genuine care that emanated from him. And so, with a mixture of trepidation and hope, she expressed her desire to return to the bar every night, just to see Jay. “You know I’ll probably just come in every night to see you, Jay.” His heart melted at the way she said his name. Feeling butterflies in his stomach after months or maybe even years.

“That would be the best Christmas gift I have ever received.”

“Me? Visiting every night?”

“Yeah, everyone would be happy to see their favorite girl visiting them during their work hours.”

“What a way to keep me coming…”

“Always lovely.”

From that night forward, Y/n became a familiar face at IVORY BAR. Each evening, she would step through the door, her eyes searching for Jay's reassuring presence. And there he would be, behind the bar, ready to listen, to offer a sympathetic ear, and to remind her that she was not alone in her journey of healing. Making her night a little lighter with worries dropped off from her shoulders.

#kflixnet #k films #k lables #k neighborhood #⛸️*.❅·🧣⋆ 24 days of christmas with filmofhybe #🥥 하이브의 영화 #enhypen jay #jay fluff #jay x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen smau #enhypen au

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nrc-therapist · 30 days

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Hey everyone! I am your therapist, here to help you with any of your troubles!

haha I'm actually a student that got dragged into this (pls send help)

anywho, do tell me your troubles and I'll assist you to the best of my abilities

^(my abilities aren't top notch, I'm a knock-off therapist. a therapist from spell-mart, if you will)

NOW WITH A SOUNDPROOF OFFICE!

AND NOW OFFICIALLY GETTING PAID WOOOOO!!!

#therapist thoughts is like my diary here, a private account if you will

now, be mindful of what you say:

don't be an asshole (no homophobia/racism/etc)

no nsfw, I'm not here to read smut, but innuendos or sexual jokes are okay

even if you are allowed to reclaim some slurs, I ask you dont use them since 1) I don't know if you really can reclaim them and 2) people might get uncomfortable from them (personally I get uncomfortable by homophobic slurs since I'm a part of the lgbtqia+ community myself)

keep in mind, I have to get tutoring from housewarden rosehearts for some classes, so I can't be active all the time CAUSE I HAVE FUCKING TUTORING CLASSES-

flirting/bickering/etc with Mid is okay, but remember that both Mid AND the person behind her are minors/has actual feelings

please inform me if calling you things like "love, sweetie, honey, etc" makes you uncomfortable since I use them quite often

yes, simping about questionable ppl is something we can address

if an overblot is happening...fml call me over

do NOT say anything bad about those scary tall guys, I'm terrified

VICE HOUSEWARDEN HUNT ISNT ALLOWED IN MY OFFICE!!

by the way you can pay for my silence<3 or maybe I should start a magicfans where I talk about things I hear in my office and give you life updates-

btw guys if you ever see crowley, do tell him that I need my paycheck-

about the therapist:

info post

you can call me mid (or midnight if youre feeling fancy)! I am a second year student in ignihyde. I go by any pronouns, im very gay, and an unofficial member of the dance club!

you can add emojis to be a specific anon

current anons: 🚨, mom iss.,🍋, 🗝, 🍮, 🐭, 🐀, 🕷, 🔏, $, 🍂

and if you want to see more of me ooc my blog is @idkanametoputhere !! i write twst fantics there every now and then! plus I also run @idk-group for my oc's

Glad to be of assistance!

#disney twst #twst wonderland #twst blog #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #nrc #twst nrc #night raven college #nrc therapist #twst asks

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deathdestructiondoom · 5 months

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TOP 5 REASON WE SHOULD BE G/T MUTUALS (ESPECIALLY REGARDING TO PROJECT SEKAI)

(this is mostly a joke if you'd like to then 👉👈)

NUMERO UNO :

I need more friends to talk about pjsk g/t. It's been so long (SINCE LAST I'VE SEEN MY SON-) since i got new friends and i realized how lonely i am-

NUMERO DOS :

I can draw. I will draw your blorbos. I will draw your ocs. I will draw anything.

You can choose between Traditional doodles, Digital doodles or free drawings ehehehe.

As long as we're buddies.

I CAN ALSO DRAW YOUR PERSONA TOO IF YOU HAVE THEM. MAYBE I CAN DRAW US TOGETHER. (BTW @wistie WHEN ARE YOU MAKING A PERSONA SO I CAN DRAW US KISSING/J /J /J /J)

NUMERO TRES :

My brain is never-ending unless i get into a slump which is very rare.

I can get very creative with my ideas, i will take two things and combine them in either the best way possible or the worst way possible, probably making the most horrendous G/t au.

Regardless, i can discuss alot of ideas regarding our blorbos. If your brain is almost like mine, we can talk about ALOT OF STUFF.

NUMERO CUATRO :

Speaking of PJSK, i can discuss alot of hcs with you because i am not biased. (That is a lie, Akito Shinonome rotates in my brain 24/7 but i can discuss others with you <3)

Tell me about your favorite g/t pairs, ships, ANYTHING.

Let me hear yours. You can hear mine. WE'RE ALL STARVED.

WE CAN TALK ABOUT POLY/NEED OR RUINENE OR SHIZUAIRI OR POLYSQUAD OR MAFUENA OR POLYSQUAD OR RUIKASA OR EMUKASA OR HONAKANA OR EMUNENE OR MAFUEMU OR THE HINOMORI SISTERS OR THE TENMAS OR THE SHINONOMES DKSGSHSJEGKSE-

I WILL TALK WITH YOU ABOUT IT ALL.

NUMERO CINCO :

I can be your personal therapist because i know some of y'all are fucked up. As long as you can be mine because i am also fucked up.

I will listen to your problems, i will check up on you daily, i might be annoying sliding into your dms all the time but that means i care about you and that's my anxiety, your secrets will be kept with me, if you are in the US then you will prob also wake up in the morning to a bunch of messages because i am all the way in Asia from across the globe.

bonus numero seis : i am not that well-versed in other parts of the g/t community aside from sonic, mcyt, maybe crk? and ofc pjsk but you wanna talk about them i will gladly listen. maybe i could roleplay with you too.

IN CONCLUSION :

I will gladly be your mutual, it might be tricky cuz this is a side blog and my actual blog is @hshwnevdhss but you can follow that so we can be moots and i will also follow yours.

I have discord so if you are actually considering this request of being mutuals which is actually a helpless cry for friends then you can go into my tumblr dms and we will send eachother our discords so we can talk there :D (cuz tumblr's chatting system is shit)

#pjsk g/t #i will only put that tag since i am mainly a pjsk blog-#project sekai posting #kinda #mutuals #giant/tiny #g/t

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berryhobii · 10 months

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Hi there! First of all, I wanted to say how much I like your work!! As a black woman myself, its is so nice to see other women creating work that represents us and is so well written!

I saw you are accepting requests, and I wanted to ask if you could write about how the LateForWork!Couple met. Like how everything progressed and they fell in love with each other.

Thank you in advance and keep up with the amazing work beautiful <3

Wow! Thank you so much for your kind words!🤧it makes me feel so good knowing that black women are feeling represented in works of fiction. I’ll continue to do my best to represent every black woman out there.

And thanks for the request! I think the LFW couple would meet kind of through Taehyung/Jimin at a company meal. Jungkook’s more of an introvert here with reader/OC being naturally flirty and knowing exactly what they want.

I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it!

Jungkook didn’t know how he kept letting Taehyung drag him to these meet ups. He didn’t know any of Taehyung’s coworkers or other friends outside of Jimin so he felt really awkward sitting at this table. He’d much rather be at home right now, maybe live streaming Little Nightmares 2 or cracking open the new Resident Evil game he had just received through pre order.

All Taehyung had to do was bribe him with promises of expensive beef and fancy desserts for him to leave the comfort of his home. Taehyung even managed to force him into a loose button up shirt just as Jungkook was about to throw on his signature hoodie. Goodness, that man was strong when he had a goal. At least Jungkook would get some free food today and maybe a sweet to take home so tonight wouldn’t be a total waste.

His face was practically glued to his phone, focus on clearing all of the jelly on this level of Candy Crush. He was down to 1 move and one more jelly square but there were no moves in that area that could help him! Urgh! And he didn’t want to uselessly use any of his power ups. Should he just lose his streak?

Just as he was about to move the candy, a hand came out of nowhere and did it for him. That move created a power up that triggered itself thus clearing the jelly and causing him to win the level. When the happy music played along with that little girl popping up to tell him he won, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face.

Then he realized that he didn’t make that move. Turning around, he was expecting to see Taehyung or Jimin but his mouth dropped at the sight of the person.

You were……what words could he use?

Beautiful? Gorgeous? Majestic? Attractive? Stunning? All of the above?

Your skin was dewy and effervescent, even the lights that lit up the restaurant paled in comparison to your glistening and dark skin. You looked like earth personified—graceful and cool and he just knew you sparkled when the sun hit you.

Your hair was in a half up half down style, claw clip holding it up, 2 locks of hair framed your face and were curled at the end. Your lashes were long and your full lips were shiny with gloss.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, it was hard to look away when such a gem was standing before him. Could someone even be that exquisite in real life?

And when you smiled, he swore he heard angels singing in his ears.

“I hate when there’s only one move left yet nothing around it. I just know my FBI agent sees me throw a fit over it every day.”

His brain short circuited for a moment. Were you initiating conversation with him? About a game? Willingly? Oh god, is he getting pranked right now? He thought Ashton Kutcher was dead. Is he?

Stop thinking about possibly dead actors! There’s a pretty girl in front of you!

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. They must be concerned I’m having a mental breakdown because they advertised a therapist to me.” He actually shocked himself a little from how easily those words flowed out. Small talk with a stranger was not a specialty of his.

Your laugh was loud and a little goofy but so endearing, it made him chuckle as well.

“Candy Crush will do that to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if the creators opened a rehab for us.”

“It’ll just be us having group discussions on how bringing hazelnuts to the bottom has been affecting our ability to form positive relationships.”

He couldn’t believe how easy conversation was flowing between you two. For some reason, he didn’t feel pressured or nervous speaking to you. You just seemed so open and kind.

Who were you?

“Jungkook! I see you met one of my coworkers. She’s super hot, isn’t she? I told her to let me make her a model but she insists on staying in PR. Boring.” Jimin appeared out of nowhere like a jump scare, draping an arm over your shoulders. Jungkook’s face faltered a little. Jimin was the biggest flirt known to mankind. He could probably charm the pants off a dead person if he wanted to. If you knew him, and more importantly if you worked with him, you must have been on the opposite side of his flirting. Was it a possibility that you two were closer than coworkers?

But instead, you just rolled your eyes, moving his arm off of you.

“Save that talk for your next spread, Park. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still haven’t submitted your portfolio.”

Jimin’s smile never dropped despite your slightly cold attitude. He could tell you were just poking fun at him.

“Anyway, Jungkook, this is y/n. y/n, this is Jungkook.”

“I can introduce myself, thank you.” You said before pulling out the chair next to Jungkook and sitting down. That movement caused your perfume to flutter all around him—it was light but sweet like some kind of dessert.

Once you were settled, you turned your body to Jungkook, propping your elbow on the table to lean your cheek against it.

And the way your hooded eyes stared at him sent a harsh shiver from the top of his head all the way to his toes. He didn’t even notice Jimin’s smirk or how the man tip toed away to gossip to his favorite buddy.

“I’m y/n.”

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He didn’t know why his throat felt dry all of a sudden.

Oh great, he could chat with you about mobile games and FBI agents but getting his name out was difficult?

Clearing his throat, he forced out his name, voice cracking a little at the end. Embarrassment rushed through his body, heat rising to his ears and he was grateful his hair was long enough to cover them.

You must think he was a dork now.

You giggled, your eyelashes fluttering and making his heart weak.

“Nice to meet you.”

He shyly nodded. “You too.”

“Sorry about Jimin. He’s like that at work too.”

Jungkook pushed his hair back with one hand, not noticing how your eyes followed the motion. “At least you only have to work with him. Imagine knowing him since childhood.”

You pressed your hand against your chest in faux distress. “How awful. I could only imagine the pain you endure daily.”

Wow. You were so easy to talk to. He had completely forgotten about his phone, tucking it into his pocket to finally have a rest.

Eventually, food and drinks began flowing. Taehyung and Jimin joined you two at the table but not even they could pop the bubble that you’ve formed.

Jungkook could barely focus on his food. You had his full attention, holding onto every word and laugh that fell from your lips. He found you to be witty but also humble, not afraid to poke a little fun at Taehyung and Jimin who just laughed right along with you.

You were mesmerizing. He almost hated blinking if it meant your beautiful face left his sight.

And when you would turn your attention back to him, not realizing that you’ve never left his, you’d send him a flirty wink and coy smile that would send his blood pressure through the roof from how his heart would stutter and race. If a doctor was listening with a stethoscope right now, they’d think the organ was giving out on him.

“So how’d you end up here?” You asked after taking a sip of your drink.

He sighed, eyes going over to the other side of the table where Taehyung was showing Jimin something on his phone but the man was so drunk that he was holding it upside down. And Jimin probably didn’t even notice, laughing as if he could understand the upside down photo. “Taehyung dragged me here. Said I need to start getting out more and I can’t waste my youth playing games all day. He keeps pushing me to date but I’m not that interested right now.”

Well, that was before. Now, however, he was starting to change that view.

You hummed, using your chopsticks to eat a piece of meat, chewing carefully and swallowing before speaking again.

“Does it make you happy?”

That was a question he didn’t hear people ask him often. Well, in a genuine way. He’d normally hear it rhetorically. He’s heard it come from his parents more times than he could count, followed by a lecture that he’d drown out.

He blinked a few times. Gaming did make him happy. He appreciated the hard work creators put into each frame, the adrenaline he got from jump scares, and the accomplishment from completing one. “Yeah….it does.”

“Then that’s what matters. Who cares if someone else feels like you’re wasting your life? It’s yours. You can’t be focused too much on what others want for you. You’ll only neglect your own self.”

Wow.

“Then again, we should thank Taehyung from forcing you out tonight.”

He tilted his head. He would absolutely never do that but he was intrigued by your suggestion. “Really? Why?”

You didn’t say anything, just gazed at him with those captivating eyes and he knew exactly what you meant.

Maybe he should thank Taehyung.

As the night came to a close, he helped escort Taehyung to his car. Jimin had left a little earlier with a person you identified as one of the newest members of management. Apparently, they were kind of resistant to Jimin’s flirting at first but had crumbled after about 4 months of Jimin trying and trying. Jungkook recalls Jimin speaking about this person, claiming he was in love with them and would respectfully shoot his shot whenever possible.

That left Jungkook with a drunk Taehyung and you were helping your coworker who lived in the same apartment building as you.

Jungkook didn’t just want to see you walk away. Who knows if he’d ever see you again? And he refused to ask Jimin or Taehyung for your number. The teasing would never end.

“Hey…..wait.” He called out to you after practically dumping Taehyung in the back seat. You had parked right in front of his car and were buckling your roommate’s seatbelt who was slumped over asleep.

You turned to him after closing the passenger door, your eyes locking in with his.

There was that nervousness again but he swallowed it down. He couldn’t chicken out now! Not when you’d been getting along so well this evening.

“Um…..look, if you don’t mind, could I have your number? Maybe we can hang out sometime.”

You eyed him up and down but not in a checking him out kind of way. It was like you were analyzing him, finding every little crack in his personality that you could.

He honestly felt a little vulnerable. Why weren’t you speaking? Hadn’t tonight gone well? Was he just trying his luck and you’re already dating someone? Oh god, were you just being nice and he took it as you flirting with him?! Assumptions really were dangerous.

He was about to apologize and roll under his car to stay there until the end of time before you finally spoke.

“I’m not a maybe type of woman, Jungkook.” You spoke bluntly.

His mouth dropped a little in shock. Not necessarily because of your blunt tone but because you were just his fucking type. You knew what you wanted and that was his cup of tea.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, rounding your car to open the driver’s side. He just watched you with doe eyes and a funny feeling swirling in his tummy.

However, before you got in, you said,

“I don’t wait around.”

And on his drive home with a snoring Taehyung in the back, he thought one thing….

When you arrived at work Monday morning, it was to a bunch of people surrounding your desk. That wasn’t really out of the ordinary since people often got their assignments of the day from you.

What was out the ordinary though?

The huge bouquet of flowers that sat just in the middle of your desk, the colors vivid and the arrangement looking larger than your desk.

Your coworkers chatted excitedly about the flowers as you approached but you ignored them. Instead, you reached for the little card on a plastic stand just nestled between the blooms.

You had to bite your lip to fight your smile but you couldn’t fight the feeling that was rising in your chest.

I don’t either.

#askberryhobii #bts #bts requests #jungkook #jungkook smut

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laufire · 10 days

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on a whim, I decided to watch the pilot of birds of prey, the live-action show, and I have some thoughts lol.

the show is PAINFULLY early '00s, but that means it pushes my nostalgia buttons, so it works xD

the characters deviate from their comic counterparts (as far as I can tell), but I'm open to it. in a weird way, Barbara is the one whose changes should annoy me more, but... I like the actress and the character FEELS like Barbara. I don't care for how they framed the whole batgirl vs. oracle issue (Barbara's sort of dream self being Batgirl, saying she guesses she never let go of her past etc.), but I can accept it as the show doing its own thing as long as that feeling stays, iykwim. ETA: her being a school teacher feels off though, especially because I think of Oracle as something wholly incompatible with 9 to 5 jobs or similar responsibilities (like... Batgirl, as the comics are trying to pull off both lol).

this Helena is Helena Kyle, and one where the writers are doing their own thing (she was raised by Selina, she and Bruce didn't know about each other until after her mother's death). she's basically an OC. her relationship with Barbara is also a little like Cass's, a protégé Barbara takes in after Selina's death. here Helena says she knew Barbara since she was a kid so I'm kind of ??? about how that fits with the Bruce thing but? idek. she also has some meta/cat-like/fighting abilities, I'm guessing inherited from Selina. anyway, I like her. I think it's kinda ridiculous she doesn't put on a mask though. that cop (that you're clearly gonna have UST with, the one played by Criminal Minds' Derek Morgan's actor) saw your face perfectly Helena!!

Dinah, here a teenager called Dinah Redmond (foster parents' last name), is not much like comics!Dinah either. honestly, she reminds me of Steph a bit, powers aside. and the powers themselves are different: precognitive dreams and some telepathic abilities. definitely another character best approached as an OC, and that I liked so far.

Harley Quinn as a mastermind villain in the shadows while working as a therapist (specifically, Helena's court mandated therapist) is PERFECT. but the way the style Mia Sara is a crime.

the thing I disliked most was the double-fridging feature with Selina getting killed by someone sent by the Joker, and Barbara getting shot. in this case, Joker knew Barbara was Batgirl, so both of these were specifically to hurt Batman. oh, and Barbara is shot leaving the bathroom after a shower. with a bathrobe on, and it's not like TKJ doesn't sexualise the attack, but still...

I got some low-key brubabs vibes at one point (Bruce is absent, but she talks about him to Dinah). although maybe it's because I'm watching TNBA, which has that ~undercurrent of subtext lol. I wouldn't hate it in this version but a) it'd be extra ridiculous for Bruce not to know about Helena, and b) it'd make the fridging worse.

#talking to the void #my thoughts #dc #dc thoughts #birds of prey #birds of prey 2002 #barbara gordon #helena kyle #dinah redmond #dinah lance #harleen quinzel #harley quinn #brubabs

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writing-for-life · 8 months

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Sandman Stuff Master Post and Intro (under the cut)

I had to finally organise this, so here come the links and tags to all my stuff.

I love getting asks about all of the below, so see this as an encouragement to slide into my inbox…

Sandman Meta-Analysis (for a slightly less chaotic take, I have also grouped them into literary/conceptual/psychological, musical and art for you)

Sandman Fics (m/f and f/f, both OC and canon pairings) & Poems

Sandman Art (grouped into my own (not much because… hang-ups and lack of time) and that of others, with a separate tag for official Sandman artists). NB: I try to reblog if stuff has been posted before, but it’s impossible to keep track since people are inconsistent with the way they tag, plus Tumblr’s search function is pants. So no bad intentions if I double things up by accident.

Sparkle Content Curation (a not-quite-serious collection of Dream/Morpheus thirst-trap fan-art and unhinged posts). Please also peruse the tags #contraceptive sparkles, #glitter herpes and #murphy and his cool hat if this hell-site has left you in a state of being desperate for laughs

On that note: I’m also Dream’s Therapist. I think we all agree he needs one.

Personal Intro (who am I, and what am I up to when I don’t waste time on Tumblr) under the cut

Want to know who I am? Read on…

Once there was a girl with so many words, so many images, so many songs in her head that had no place to go. So she decided some of them will just go here…

Well, that sounds a bit contrived, but it’s not entirely untrue. Apart from the “girl”-part, because I’m at the younger end of Gen X. Or the “no place to go”-part, because some of my work actually *did* go places. Just not the stuff I decided to put on here…

Which is mostly Sandman stuff right now, let’s be honest (I fell in love with it when I was 16, and it still has a tight grip on me now). And the fact that it’s a wild mix between my metas, my fanfic and a bit of my doodling already shows the pull in different directions I have experienced for most of my life:

I’ve been a writer since my teenage years, and in another life, I’d maybe have more faith in myself, and writing would be all I’d do. Or maybe not, since I can never just do one thing for too long. Nevertheless, one of my teachers in high school was convinced I needed to tell stories to be happy and warned me about a career in science. Back then, I thought he was overly dramatic. Looking back on it, I sometimes think he had a point.

I’ve worked in science/academia, creative/performing arts and mental health. I guess I’m just a multi-hyphenate who can’t make up her mind what she wants to do with her life, so she tries to do it all and ends up burned out half of the time.

For now, I support people who go through really terrible stuff, and it means the world to me. But it is equally hard and sometimes soul-destroying. Hence, I’ve stopped working for our health service and focus more on my writing these days (both fiction and non-fiction) while still seeing a particular subset of clients privately, but on a much more manageable scale that also takes my own well-being into consideration. You can’t pour from an empty cup…

I’m bilingual and write most of my non-fiction in English and my fiction in my (what I perceive as stronger) other language. But I write fanfic exclusively in English because I want to separate it from my other writing: Somewhere along the way, I managed to publish a few novels under a pen name, and only a select few people know about it. And I intend to keep it that way.

My partner (a graphic artist) thinks I should do more with my art, but I feel everything about it is wrong, and I’m not formally trained. I used to draw much more (mostly pencil and ink), but between working and having a family, something had to give, and if I have to choose, writing always comes first. But I doodle and experiment a lot in Procreate because it’s quicker, and it usually helps me when I procrastinate on my writing. I drop the odd drawing in here (like my avatar), but I don’t see myself as a fine artist, and I’m in perpetual awe of the fanart and talent I see on here.

I also compose and still work as a musician sometimes. As you can tell from the one line devoted to it, performing isn’t really that important to me anymore. However, music is. I have a small adjunct teaching gig at a University that ties in with both performance and psychology. So at this stage of my life, this particular area has become more about giving back.

Nothing I put on here is intended to ever be published in “real” life (maybe that’s odd, because this is still real life, after all). This is just an account for unapologetically being me, unfiltered, with all my hyperfixations—and undoubtedly some pointless shitposts just for fun…

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samthecookielord · 2 months

Note

<33 what will you do if you win the tournament

TRIPLE QUESTION ROUND: 2 new questions and 1 old question

1 says: "Oh! Ummm the prize was like... just hanging out with someone, right? And it's platonic, right? Because if so I may or may not invite some friends to hang out too! If that's okay, haha."

2 says: "Rub it in my dear brother's face that I won what he couldn't, obviously. And, hm... maybe if I like you enough, you can assist us in our plans for destruction."

1 says: "Heck yeah!! :] I'm bi"

2 says: "Yes, what of it? Do we have a problem? Hm?"

1 says: "Oh I already go to therapy, thanks! Huge shoutout to my therapist they're really cool. Sooo I guess that's... a 2?"

2 says: "What is that."

(tourney)

Previous answers:

1 said (R1:M8) - Q: "do you play an instrument. Or sing. Or whatevercer" - A: "OHHH OH OH OH I like to sing! Well, uh, not regularly, but I've recorded covers of songs I really liked sometimes before! :D LIKE [REDACTED/Bug Spray] AND [REDACTED/insert other bug spray song here]- OHHH AND [REDACTED/insert other bug spray song here] IS A GOOD ONE TOO- okay at this point I might as well name the whole album, eheh..."

1 said (R2:M4) - Q: "would you do a blind date tournament with your oc's?" - A: ":O!!!!! I DON'T KNOW WHAT EXACTLY THAT ENTAILS BUT IT SOUNDS FUN!!!!! Oh my god this is just like the plot of [REDACTED/Space Boyfriend]... AND I SHOULD TOTALLY GET [REDACTED/Storm]'S CHARACTERS IN ON THIS TOO..."

1 said (R3:M2) - Q: "You're walking in the woods. there's no one around and your phone is dead. out of the corner of your eye you spot him. Shia LaBeouf." - A: "PFFFFT- HE'S FOLLOWING YOU ABOUT 30 FEET BACK. HE GETS DOWN ON ALL FOURS AND BREAKS INTO A SPRINT. HE'S GAINING ON Y-"

1 said (R4:M1-1) - Q: "tell me about your best friend" - A: "OH MY STARS OH MY STARS THEY'RE THE COOLEST PERSON IN THE WORLD!!! All their stories are always so neat and amazing and they're always there for me when I'm feeling down or when I just gotta ramble about something!!! They mean everything in the world to me!!! Both them and [REDACTED/Kel]!!! Um- hah, don't mind me."

1 said (R4:M1-2) - Q: "how would you describe your outlook on life using emoticons?" - A: " :O 💫🌠🌃✨⭐🌟🌠🌠💫☄️☄️🌌🌌🌠🌈🌠💌🍉🍨🍨"

2 said (R1:M10) - Q: "would you wanna rule the world" - A: "AHAHAha- you know what? Yes, yes I'd love to! I'll put that one on our itinerary, how about that?"

2 said (R2:M5) - Q: "have you ever killed a man" - A: "You don't know HOW badly I wish I did. Oh, but don't worry, I'm working very quickly to fix that little issue."

2 said (R3:M3) - Q: "opinion on horses" - A: "Elegant creatures. They will be spared in the forthcoming destruction~ Though, I'll admit... there's... a certain one I was fond of. She must be long gone by now."

2 said (R4:M2-1) - Q: "would you smooch a ghost" - A: "I don't think I even need to answer this one. The real question here is, would you?"

2 said (R4:M2-2) - Q: "anything to smile about?" - A: "The distant taste of sweet, sweet vengeance on the horizon, of course."

#asks #sam oc blind date tourney 3

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squishablesunbeam · 1 year

Text

Defiance Pt. 5: Measuring Distance

Note: Look, they love each other okay. I'm going to struggle with this but it's the direction we are headed. I apparently have two ocs on my hands that are very much in love and they will be very messy and cute about it 🙄 please forgive any obvious relationship blunders. I don't usually go here! This is new territory and I tried to talk them out of it but they wouldn't listen!

TW: mentions of past noncon, recovering whumpee, ptsd symptoms, startle response, panic attack

Prev.

Cameron was learning.

He knew that Levi needed more space than most people. He'd always known that, but he also used to resent the hell out of it.

He realized that now.

Before, he'd taught himself to draw back from Levi and let Levi come to him when he was ready. But never without making Levi earn his attention back again. Cameron didn't fully realize what he was doing but he sees now that he'd been punishing Levi for needing to take time away from Cameron's company. He'd always taken it so personally, as if Levi was saying that Cameron was too much for him. It hurt, but he's coming to understand that it wasn't exactly the truth. So many assumptions were made back then, and zero communication. At some point, Cameron had stopped reaching back when Levi was ready to take his hand again and he'd let the only man he'd ever loved slip right through his fingers.

Things had to be different this time. They were getting a second chance.

Cameron swallowed down bile that rose up into this throat at the thought. Their second chance came with too heavy a price and Cameron was having a hard time separating them being able to reconnect with why Levi showed up on his doorstep in the first place.

He swallowed down a painful gulp of too cold water, thinking back on the long lists of therapists he'd looked up for Levi to try out whenever he was ready. Maybe he should give one a call for himself. Couldn't hurt.

He stole a glace across the table and couldn't help the grimace that marred his face.

Levi looked miserable, sitting across from him in the middle of a crowded restaurant. It was too much.

It's not that Levi hadn't gone out at all since the...incident? The rape? Since the attack? Fuck.

No, he'd gone out a handful of times but always alone. He'd insisted on that. Cameron knew that Levi was just testing himself, seeing what he could handle before allowing Cameron to see him so vulnerable.

He'd gone out for coffee a few times, or a walk around the block. He even went to get a few ingredients they needed to complete a pasta dish Levi had been wanting to make. Anything to try to get back to living again.

He still wasn't ready though.

Cameron knew that.

He knew it in the frazzled, clumsy way he'd always come back home, bumping into the corner of the wall or the kitchen counter or half missing the bowl that he usually put his keys in. He knew it in the way he lost the words he meant to say and had to just close his eyes and give himself a minute before trying again.

It shattered Cameron's heart every single time and he was desperate to just go with him. To hold his hand and tell him that he was safe and that he didn't have to always do it on his own, not anymore.

But Cameron was learning, and Levi did things in his own time.

Today though, Levi surprised him. He actually asked Cameron if he wanted to go out to lunch with him and Cameron couldn't breathe. His entire world exhaling into that singular moment.

Yes. Of course. Please. Anything you could ever want, it's yours.

At least, that's what he'd wanted to say.

He knew how big of a step this was for Levi, for them both, and he tried his best to keep his reaction as casual and nonchalant as possible in an effort to put Levi at ease.

Looking at him now though, Levi was anything but at ease.

“Hey.”

Cameron flinched when Levi did, both of them reaching for the water glass Levi almost knocked over in his surprise. It didn't spill. Levi steadied the glass and then breathed out a huge breath, steadying himself as well.

“Sorry," Levi pushed the word out from his chest, shifting awkwardly in his chair.

“No, nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry I startled you.”

This was too much. They should leave.

Levi's eyes wouldn't meet his, focused on his now wet fingertips from the dew that had collected on the glass. Brushing the wet pads back and forth, frowning at the sensation as if it had personally offended him.

He finally shook himself, wiping his fingers off on his pants and looking up at Cameron's painfully open face.

“I'm okay,” he attempted to reassure him.

Cameron felt the corners of his lips twitch into some semblance of a sympathetic smile. He wasn't okay. He knew that much, but he would be. Cameron had faith in this man more than anything else in the world. He was strong and resilient and fiercely independent. He would be okay. Cameron just prayed that the gnawing ache in his gut that told him he'd never get to see it, that Levi would leave, again, he prayed that feeling was wrong. Cameron didn't know how to get them to that space where they both felt safe. But he was sure as hell going to try.

He would try to listen, and learn, and adjust to what Levi wasn't saying. Or better yet, just ask him.

“So, do you want to maybe talk about it? Or do you want me to just pretend like this isn't hard? Honest question,” he lifted up his hands in placation, “Whatever you need.”

Levi's lips twitched up into a small smile before falling again and Cameron felt a small stitch in his chest release. Ok, that sort of worked. Levi ducked his head so Cameron couldn't see his eyes under the brim of the old baseball hat he'd grabbed from Cameron's closet before heading out the door.

Always hiding.

“I just- I feel like everyone's staring at me.”

Levi lifted his hand, brushing his fingers lightly over the fading bruises on his face; yellow now and almost nothing at all. The cuts would take longer of course.

Two in particular. A thick purple line from the corner of his left eye, cutting over his cheekbone. The other hadn't healed much better. It was smaller and a bit lighter but, jagged, as if it wasn't cut so much as torn. He knew that's exactly what had happened. That one told a horrific story. Set at the edge of his mouth, split about a half inch down past his lip. That one had reopened many times in the first few days. Even now, it looked painful.

Cameron absently bit at his own lip as it itched in sympathy.

Levi brushed his fingers over the healing cut under his eye, for the hundredth time.

“No one is staring. I promise.”

Cameron caught a flash of Levi's eyes, the deep lines set between them softening just a little.

“You are,” he said with just a hint of a teasing smile. Cameron loved to watch Levi, and Levi knew it and loved to point it out.

Cameron beamed, teeth flashing in a wide grin at the familiar banter.

“Well, you are very handsome. Can you blame me?”

Levi ducked his head again, his hat almost shadowing the blush that was seeping red into his cheeks, almost. The spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose that Levi hated so much darkening against the soft bronze of his skin.

Goddamn, he loved this man so fucking much.

Cameron's hands itched with longing. Finally, achingly, he gave in and reached across the table. His eyes were on Levi. Watching him track Cameron's own fingers as he brushed one under Levi's palm, just under his pinky. He was asking, as gently as he could, and waited patiently for an answer.

His heart burst into rolling flames when Levi shifted, easing his hand into Cameron's and curling his fingers around his own.

“You ready to order?”

Levi jumped at the perky waiter's overly chipper voice, his knee smacking into the bottom of the table, his hand clutching desperately to Cameron's before he abruptly let go. Leaving him feeling empty, that burning fire in Cameron's heart rushing through his body with fear instead of hope.

“Oops. Sorry, man,” the waiter smiling brightly, seemingly amused by the show, “I snuck up on you two didn't I?”

Levi wiped his now sweaty palms off on his jeans, never looking up at the man.

“It's fine,” he said, the words catching in his throat.

“Did you have a chance to look over the menu?”

Cameron watched Levi trying desperately to calm down his body for just half a second before smiling warmly up at the waiter, “Could you give us a few more minutes?”

“Sure thing,” the man grinned brightly and whipped around with a bit of a flourish as he set off to help another table.

The silence that settled around them felt thick. Cameron could feel it cloying heavily in his ears. It wasn't the silence between them that was the problem. He wanted to freely give Levi whatever space he needed but without the overwhelming shame that he could tangibly feel rolling in waves off Levi's body. Levi deserved to take all the time he needed, and he shouldn't have to feel like he has to run away and hide in order to get it.

“Hey, babe, I have an idea,” Cameron offered, gently but with a small measure of hope threaded into his tone.

Levi looked up, swallowing thickly, his hands never stopping the nervous drag up and down his jeans. He was desperately trying not to spiral in this very public space.

“Listen," he said, firm but calm, holding Levi's panicked gaze, "There's a food cart a couple blocks away. It's pretty nice out. How about we grab something easy, kebabs maybe? We could find a quiet spot in the park instead? What do you think?”

Levi breathed, maybe for the first time in the span of a minute, the color that had drained out of his face slowly coming back again.

Cameron watched the muscles in his jaw jump as he fought with his own thoughts.

“You want to leave?”

Cameron made face as if he was considering his options, looking around the restaurant, “I mean, yeah, but only if you do. It's too crowded in here anyway. But if you'd rather just go home, we can do that too?”

“No. No, I, um, kebabs sound good. We can do that.”

Cameron pulled out his wallet and left $10 for his coffee and for the waiter's trouble, watching Levi take two full, measured breaths out of the corner of his eye. Once he looked a little more steady, Cameron reached out and flopped his arm down across the table, palm up.

“Shall we, my love?”

Levi huffed out a breath and actually managed a smile, dramatically dropping his hand into Cameron's, “You're such a dork.”

Cameron smiled triumphantly as they stood up, leaning against each other's shoulders, and sneaking out of the busy restaurant and into the sunlight.

~~~

Levi sat overlooking the quiet pond with his back pressed against a huge oak tree, Cameron's back pressed firmly against his chest.

He felt solid, for the first time in weeks, months even.

He took another slow, deep breath of what seemed like the clearest, cleanest air in the world and let it out even slower. Just like he'd watched on the youtube videos he'd found after Cameron fell asleep one night.

He'd panicked, at the restaurant. It wasn't the first time. Six out of the eight times he'd managed to leave the apartment the last two weeks had ended in a panic attack.

Cameron didn't know.

At least he didn't think he did. He knew Levi wasn't exactly fine, especially since the day he'd come back without the onions and garlic bread that he'd specifically gone to the store for. He just hoped he didn't know exactly how bad it really was.

It was so embarrassing.

That might be the worst part.

After suddenly finding himself unable to breathe in the middle of a crowded coffee shop and damn near blacking out on the floor, he found himself wondering if you could actually die of nothing but sheer mortification. He could still feel the way the floor seemed to dip and stick to his hands when he tried to push himself back up, only to end up on is ass again, a frail, old lady having to help him to his feet as everyone else just gasped and watched.

He felt his heart thump greedily in his chest and took another slow breath, scratching his fingers through the silky blonde curls of Cameron's hair. Levi kissed the side of his head and felt the man in his arms hum quietly as he held him just a little tighter, pressing his bare feet into the cool, green grass.

This was good.

Cameron hadn't said a word once they arrived at the park. He just sat Levi down, pulled his shoes and socks off, and snuggled up against his chest. He was surprised at first, half expecting Cameron to just step away and leave him to spiral until he got control over himself.

Levi had sat stiffy, arms not even touching him as Cameron leaned all his weight against him, until he realized that Cameron was giving him a different kind of space. Cameron was here, grounding him, but he couldn't see him. Not really. Just his legs, his feet, but not his face. He couldn't watch the tears that fell down his face, or see the redness that blotched over his nose whenever he cried. He couldn't see the panic and fear that took hold when the thoughts got the better of him or when he lost control of his breath.

He could feel him though.

Levi knew he could.

He could feel when his breath hitched or when he moved to wipe at his face. He could feel when his heart raced out of control, his lungs dragging in ragged, incomplete breaths, over and over again. He could feel his tears fall into his hair.

But this was different somehow.

Cameron just laid quietly against him, breathing evenly, his heart beating a steady pace under Levi's palm.

It was a kind of vulnerability that Levi had never felt before.

He felt safe.

Cameron twitched in his arms and Levi smiled. He must have dozed off. He took the opportunity to nuzzle his nose into Cameron's hair, breathing him in. The scent of his shampoo filling his senses. God, he used to get made fun of so badly for that when they were teenagers. Always buying the prettiest smelling shampoos and never giving a shit what the assholes said about it.

Levi had never told him, but he had always loved it. He loved trying to guess the scent when Cameron showed up smelling like a different kind of fruit or flower.

Cameron jerked himself awake this time, sighing heavily when he realized where he was, his hand coming up to squeeze at Levi's arm across his chest.

Levi kissed his head again, smiling into his hair.

"You smell like lilacs."

He took Levi's hand and hummed sleepily, kissing his fingertips.

"It's your favorite."

Something warm and fond spread through Levi's chest. He'd never told Cameron that, but he was right.

Lilacs were his favorite.

Taglist: @starlit-darkness, @the-soup-is-burned-too, @pigeonwhumps, @honeycollectswhump

#my ocs are being all angsty and cute #make them stop!#defiance #levi and cameron #past noncon mention #recovering whumpee #ptsd tw #panic attack tw #this will be a fucked up love story now #be warned #I keep feeling like I need to apologize for that but it is what it is #my brain can happily torture ocs but god forbid they fall in love!#ignore me 😂#help me tag this if I'm missing things please

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negative-speedforce · 8 months

Note

anyone for the quotes "I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me about this. I'm sorry you felt like you had to keep this from me." "I'm going to do better from now on. I promise you, I'm going to do better. I'm going to be better. For you." "Look at me, [name]. Look at me. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, do you hear me?" "I can think of far better things for you to do with that pretty little mouth of yours than talk back to me." "Keep your secrets if you must, but do not believe you can lie to me." and "Okay, before you try to murder me, just let me explain." :)

"I'm going to do better from now on. I promise you, I'm going to do better. I'm going to be better. For you."

With: My OCs Siv and Hailey

"That's a lot of nerve, coming back here." Hailey took a puff off her cigarette, narrowing her eyes at Siv. "Especially after what you did."

"Look, I'm sorry. I fucked up, a lot." Siv took a deep breath. "I thought I could change things. I thought I could bring back what I lost. But what I made was so much worse than before. I had what I wanted, but everyone else..."

"I know." Hailey replied. "But that's not what I'm angry about. Screw the timeline. I trusted you, and you betrayed me. You took the Spear for yourself, when you had told me that I could trust you."

"I know, I know, and I'm so sorry." Siv said. "Please, Hailey. I ruined everything, and I betrayed your trust, and..."

"How can I believe you? Especially after that stunt you pulled?" Hailey snorted. "There is something fundamentally wrong with you, Sivonne, and I can't fix it for you. Sort your own shit out. There's nothing here for you."

"I signed up for therapy."

"What?"

"I took your advice. I have a therapist now. Her name's Kelsie. She's been helping a lot." Siv leaned against the railing of the fire escape. "My priorities were screwed for a long time. My hatred took over, and I couldn't see anything but red. I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"You're actually blaming yourself for once? That's rich."

"Yeah, I am." Siv said. "I was in a really dark place. It's no excuse, though, I should have known better. I'm going to do better from now on. I promise you, I'm going to do better. I'm going to be better. For you."

"I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you yet." Hailey admitted. "But this is a step in the right direction. I'm happy for you, Siv. Maybe in another world, we would have actually worked out."

"I understand." Siv turned to leave. "It was fun while it lasted, I guess."

"Same." Hailey replied. "You take care of yourself out there. Don't get into- or cause- too much trouble."

"I'll try." Siv smiled slightly. "And Hailey? Take your own advice. Trust me, it really helps, working though everything, all the horrible shit you've seen and been through."

#ask revan #revan writes #oc shit #vexic :D

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starcrossedmoonlet · 12 days

Text

Hello and welcome to this blog!

My name is Comet Yuusonya, and I'm the host here! Feel free to call me just about anything--Comet, Yuu, Prefect, Grim's Mother, whatever works. My friends and I are all here to answer questions, rp, chat, whatever else! A list of everyone included here will be at the bottom of the post.

Come get to know us--ask whatever questions you'd like! Let me set some ground rules really quick.

1. NO NSFW -- Flirting is fine, but no NSFW. A lot of us are minors or freshly 18, and A LOT of us are asexual.

2. Please be kind! I am just a girl, a child, even. Please treat me as you would another human being. I have boundaries and I want them respected. This extends to all my friends.

3. Please be patient! Life's kinda busy, things happen. If we don't respond immediately, we'll get back within a day or two. Please don't bug us about responding to your asks, I promise we see them.

4. We curse here! This means you can to, but if you don't want anything to do with that, probably best to steer clear. I never use curse words to insult another, and neither should you. No slurs either please. Those are my only rules on cursing here. Otherwise be free to say fuck lmao

5. Fellow OCs are welcomed here and encouraged to interact!!! Tell me everything about your OCs I love them all!!!!

6. This is a safe place! No judging others' identities, OCs, requests, etc--including mine.

Here's a masterlist of everyone here, including their main tags!

Comet Yuusonya

Hi! I'm Comet, Yuu works too--I'm the Ramshackle Prefect. I was magicless when I got here, but... now I'm not! Local therapist, Grim's mother, and widely feared for my ability to psychoanalyze people. She/her pronouns, asexual, polyamorous Twisted from Rapunzel and Princess Anna

#comet yuu answers things : questions I answer, pretty self explanitory #comet yuu rambles : if I get kind of ramble-y, I'll add this tag. #comet yuu daily lyrics : for lyrics from songs I either relate to or just like !

Heaven

Greetings, you may call me Heaven. I reside within the halls of Ramshackle, though I come from a realm beyond this one. So long as you do not bring harm to our prefect, you shall be spared. She/her pronouns, polyamorous, has never commented on her sexuality. Twisted from the bride from the Haunted Mansion. #Heaven replies : For when you speak to me.

James Steelclaw From Savanaclaw

'sup, name's james. local jaguar beastman in spelldrive. teachers hate me, learn my secret today! /j He/him pronouns, bisexual, polyamorous. Twisted from the jaguars in Emperor's new Groove. #james speaks : general tag for me. idc if its questions or just me talkin outta my ass.

Lance Everett

Hi, I'm Lance, it's so exciting to meet you! I'm a Savanaclaw student, though I wish I were in Pomefiore with my buddy Emilio... that's okay, though, I enjoy the temperature here. I love animals and communicating with them. Maybe we can be friends? He/him pronouns, unspecified sexuality but clearly likes men. Twisted from Kronk. #Hello from Lance! : Any of my posts!

Buggie Orville

heeeyyyy whazzup name'z buggie, azul AND jamil'z #1 nuisance !!!!!! find me behind Mostro Lounge in my DEFINITELY LEGAL gambling ring and speakeasy ;) don't mind the bugz, they're my budz! they don't bite unlezz i don't like you! :D They/it/he, bug/bugself pronouns, asexual, demi and panromantic, polyamorous. Twisted from Oogie Boogie. #rollin the dice : anything from me <3

Emilio Nowell

Greetings all. Emilio Nowell here, a proud Pomefiore student and pro at chemistry. Should you wish to speak with me, I suppose I shall grant you some of my time. Though, I'd imagine Lance is more fun to speak to... have you tried his spinach puffs? They're simply to die for. He/him pronouns, gay. Twisted from Yzma. #From Emilio : When I am speaking, I will add this tag.

Igni Hayes

uhhh hi whats up, my name's ignacio but igni is fine! um i'm from ignihyde, im the resident goth, cant shut up about flowers, and drama king to the max haha. h. hope we can be friend sorry if i'm awkward it's the social anxiety He/him pronouns, pansexual, polyamorous. Twisted from Pain and Panic. #Ignis replies : for asks #gothichanahaki : my general tag

Jun'ichi Sasaki

Come learn about me yourself. He/him, unspecified sexuality. Twisted from Robert Callaghan / Yokai from Big Hero Six. #Sasaki Junichi : General.

Everest Grove

Hello! Call me Everest. I'm a mushroom fae from Briar Valley, new to Diasomnia and the Mountain Lovers Club. I enjoy sketching and hikes, perhaps you'd like to join me? I'm a little quiet, but I promise I mean no harm. They/them pronouns, asexual, panromantic polyamorous. Twisted from background fairies in the live action Maleficent. #Everests Grove : Anything I post!

Wade Krillis

Yo what's up everyone, name's Wade. I just transfered to NRC not too long ago... I'm in Diasomnia. I'm in spelldrive, but I think I like the arts on land, I'd like to get into that. Please don't be too put off by my style, promise I'm not dangerous! I just like being punk. :) He/him pronouns, unspecified sexuality. Not twisted from any Disney character, but heavily correlated with Octavinelle. #Thoughts from Wade : My posts, whether asks or not!

Comet again! I'll add character info sheets in case you want pictures and more information soon! Until then, thanks for stopping by! Hope we can be friends! Don't forget to drink water! Until next time! Find my main at @elysia-nsimp

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc

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aheckinmess · 2 months

Text

Hollow Harmony || Present Mic x OC

(One-shot series 2/3 chapters posted - posts regularly on Saturdays)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Graphic violence, Hizashi Yamada x OC, Present Mic, Present Mic saves the day, Hizashi Yamada is a ray of sunshine, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, pro hero to the rescue, fast friends, hibachi date, time for therapy

Word Count: 4,612 words

Summary: Breaking free of Kigai’s control grants Ichijiku the freedom she’s always dreamed of, but recovering from it isn’t easy. With Hizashi’s help, Ichijiku is able to make more progress towards a normal life, and maybe even a normal relationship.

Author's Note: I haven't posted fanfiction in years, but after a two-year obsession with My Hero Academia, I have more than enough content to share. This first series is pretty dark, but there's some comfort and sweetness along the way. Enjoy.

TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual, Physical, and Emotional Abuse, PTSD Flashbacks

Chapter 2: Nightmares & New Horizons

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Sometimes lullabies keep the nightmares away and sometimes Kigai sings them to me in my dreams. Life hasn’t been the same since he’s been locked up. It’s a far cry better, but an adjustment. Still, it feels good to stretch my legs and breathe again.

As days stretch into weeks, I find Hizashi again. He’s sitting on a bench outside the arcade with that huge smile stretched wide, hands behind his head, and head bopping to the beat of his headphones. When I tap him and he opens his eyes, he lights up.

“Ichijiku! Wow, hey!” He immediately gets up and makes like he’s going to hug me, then seems to think better of it and puts his hands in his pockets. “How’ve you been?”

I still find myself glancing around in public to keep a periphery watch out for Kigai, and I can’t stop myself now. The feeling of dread he imparted on me hasn’t left, it’s merely fading into the background. “I’ve been…it’s been a lot of work, you know, trying to move on. But, I think I’m doing okay.” I want to be optimistic about the whole endeavor. My therapist says that’s what’s helped me survive this long: the hope of a better horizon. I want to keep that part of me alive and prove Kigai was wrong about everything.

I want to prove that to myself too.

“How are you?”

“Well, I…I’ve actually been thinking a lot about you.” He admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “See, a lot of times we can’t get solid evidence on people like…your ex.” He’s very careful not to say his name. I can’t tell whether I’m grateful for it or not yet. I don’t want to be afraid of him anymore. Wounds take time to heal, Little One. “So they frequently get back out because of how well they hide the damage they’ve dealt.” It’s the first time his smile hasn’t fully reached his eyes as he looks at me, but it’s back in place soon enough. “But I’m glad to see that you’re still on your own and thriving! I mean, look at that outfit! Those curly locks and those sparkling eyes! You’ve made a lot of progress since I last saw you.”

“That means a lot, Hizashi.” A real smile graces my lips. How different he is from Kigai. If it weren’t for people like him…I’d still be stuck in hell. “Hey, why don’t I grab your number? I can keep you updated on things. And I’ll need a friend for certain assignments given to me by my therapist. I don’t really have anyone to keep me accountable for the hard tasks.” Worry and guilt suddenly swirl in my stomach and I stop pulling out my phone midway. “I-I mean. That’s a lot to burden you with, I’m sorry. I should have asked and not offered–”

“Hey, no sweat!” Hizashi looks like Christmas came early. He pulls out his phone, presses the new contact button and taps it against my phone peeking out of my pocket. “I imagine finding new friends…learning what feels like a whole new way of life…that has to be difficult. I’ll gladly help you out when times are rough!”

“Thanks.” I sigh in relief as I look at the contact number and picture now synced to my phone. I snort. “What is this picture?”

“That’s my best friend’s cat, Cloud! He…got a little too enthusiastic about hogging the camera while I was taking a profile pic.” He laughs.

“It’s adorable!” A notification pops up and I start walking away, giving him a wave. “Oh! Got an appointment, gotta run!”

“I’ll see you later!”

. . . . .

Hey, Zashi, Kigai isn’t staring at me from the hallway, is he? I take a picture of the ghost in my hall, frozen with fear as tears glisten on my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Kigai, please go away.”

His eyes bore into mine. You know the consequences for disobeying me, bitch. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone! I can smell the eucalyptus on his shirt and the minty tang of his gum. “Please, Kigai, I’m sorry…” I whimper, scooting around while feeling for the door to my bedroom. He’s going to hit me. He’s going to punish me so bad! Get away from him, Cub. Get a door between the two of you and lock it.

My phone rings and I bolt. I slam my door behind me and lock it. I search for the first thing I can to put between me and Kigai and start heaving my dresser in front of the door. Then I rush into the adjoining bathroom, lock the door, and hop in the tub, pulling the shower curtain.

I finally answer the phone. “Zashi?” I choke out. “Zashi, he’s here. I need help.”

“Hey, Ichan, hey. I saw the picture. Kigai’s not there.” Hizashi’s voice swirls in the background. “Take a few deep breaths.”

My body jolts as I hear his voice screaming through the door. You know better than to run from me, whore! “Zashi, he’s trying to get through! He keeps yelling at me, please help…” I sob, clutching my phone close to my ear and clenching my eyes shut tight. “Stop, stop, stop…please, stop, I’m sorry…” I pant, peeking out from the shower curtain and feeling grateful Kigai hasn’t made it through the barriers I’ve set between us.

“Ichan, you’re having a flashback.” Hizashi coos through the receiver. “I need you to take a few good deep breaths for me. Tell me what you see.”

I try to listen. I really do. I suck in a heavy breath through my lips and grip the lip of the bathtub so hard my knuckles turn white. My chest aches on the exhale and I shove my free palm into my eye so hard I see spots.

“What do you see, Ichan?”

I swallow and pull back, opening my eyes as my body trembles.

“Th-There’s,” You better open this goddamn door, brat! “Th-There’s my shower curtain…and…” Who the hell are you talking to?!

“What’s on the shower curtain?”

“Zashi, if he finds out I’m talking to you, he’ll hurt you.” I whimper. I’m scared to hang up the phone and face punishment. I’m scared to keep talking and watch Kigai hunt Hizashi down.

“Ichijiku, what’s on the shower curtain?”

“There’s seashells.” After all I’ve fucking done for you.

“What kind of seashells? What colors?”

“There’s a light pink…and lavender…blue…” I once again peek out the curtain.

And I promptly let out a shriek and throw my phone across the bathroom. What the fuck are you doing in the bathtub hiding from me?! “I’m sorry!” I cry, curling up against the porcelain and covering my head. Rough fingers grip my arm and I hear his voice growling in my ear. You know who you belong to, don’t you? Why the fuck are you letting those nobodies look at you like that?! Pain bleeds through my back as I try to placate him. “Please, Kigai, they didn’t mean it. Please stop.” I’ll stop when you know no one else’s body but mine. His hands grip my thighs and dread settles in my bones.

I don’t know how long he spends growling obscenities in my ear and raking his fingers over every surface of skin he can touch. But I know I hear the door open and my whole body clenches. No. If someone comes in here Kigai’s going to kill them!

“Ichijiku?” Hizashi’s voice echoes in the bathroom. “It’s me. It’s Hizashi.”

You know this sleaze just wants to take advantage of you while you’re vulnerable, yeah? You belong to me! I whimper and try to draw air in my lungs. “Zashi, run!” I beg.

“Ichan, take a deep breath.” He says on the other side of the curtain. “Take a big, deep breath. You’re safe. Kigai’s not here.” You fucking whore!

I choke on the oxygen I’m trying to take in but dammit I breathe. I inhale and I exhale. Kigai’s hands tilt back and forth between feeling ghostly and real. I inhale and I exhale. “Zashi, you have to run…” I whimper.

“You’re safe, Ichan.” The warmth in his voice starts wrapping around me again. “Kigai’s not here. You’re safe.”

I inhale and I exhale. I slowly uncurl from my ball when I no longer feel Kigai’s hands roaming my body. I inhale and I exhale. The smell of eucalyptus and mint fades into the rusty smell of the tub. The sound of my air freshener spraying out apple cinnamon seems to emphasize the dismissal of his scent all around me. I inhale and I exhale.

I slowly rise in the tub and ease the shower curtain back.

Sitting against the bathroom wall, Hizashi looks at me with glistening, patient eyes. My phone still sits on the floor right beside him. When he notices I’m looking, he makes a big show of taking a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

I inhale and I exhale as I sluggishly crawl out of the tub.

“Zashi?” I breathe, looking warily around the bathroom. I creep towards the door, open it, and then hop back out of view. I look in the mirror to see if anyone’s in my room, but it’s empty. “Is he gone?”

“You’re safe, Ichan.” Hizashi says, looking up at me. “Kigai’s not here.”

“You’re sure he’s gone?” I whimper, creeping to the doorframe and eyeing every crack and crevice that might be out of place. Nothing has moved except the dresser. “Did you move the dresser?” I ask frantically.

“Take a deep breath, Ichan.” He tells me, and I inhale and I exhale. I listen, and he starts slowly standing up, grabbing my phone along the way. “I picked the lock when I heard you scream. I had to shove the dresser back with the door to get in. I wanted to make sure you were safe, and you are. You’re safe, Ichan. Kigai’s not here.”

Security blankets me and as my pulse evens out, a heavy wave of exhaustion washes over me. My eyelids are harder to hold open and my shoulders sag. He’s not here. He never was. It was a flashback, just like he said. You’re strong, Little Cub. We made it through another flashback. It’s going to be okay. We’re safe now.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Hizashi asks. “Give you a hug? I don’t want to frighten you.”

I survey my emotions and analyze how I’m feeling. When I’ve taken a few more deep breaths and feel more confident, I nod.

Two, strong arms pull me into a warm chest. I hear the steady beating of Hizashi’s heart and close my eyes, drinking in the security that just being near him brings. I breathe in time with that strong beat of his heart.

“You’re safe.” He whispers, and I squeeze him a little tighter. Please don’t leave.

“I’m sorry.” A few of my tears decorate his shirt. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He croons, rubbing up and down my back. “Flashbacks can be vivid. I’m just glad I was able to help. You don’t have to worry about him anymore, though. I’m here.”

. . . . .

For the next few weeks, my therapist asks me to write down detailed accounts of my flashbacks so we can analyze my triggers and try to minimize them. It sucks, but writing them down helps us figure out that eucalyptus is in the Stress Relief pillow mist I use and causes most of my flashbacks at night. We also learn that I’m more sensitive to auditory triggers, like songs he used to play in the car or abrupt loud sounds.

It doesn’t happen every time, thankfully, which is good considering Hizashi’s been trying to help me acclimate to a normal life. He’s been taking me out to different places in the hopes of showing me the finer points of life. We’ve been to the arcade, had a picnic in the park, and he’s even taken me to a music store and serenaded me while playing the piano. I’ve also met a few of his friends: Nemuri, Shouta, and Oboro.

Both myself and my therapist are impressed with the amount of help he’s offered to my situation. We’re both cautiously optimistic, though.

Kigai started out all sunshine and rainbows, too, after all.

Which table are you at? I text Hizashi as I step into the hibachi restaurant. The heat of the room feels good as the impending winter sets in. I love cold weather. I look around for a pair of familiar orange sunglasses.

Hey! The table in the far back. You won’t be able to see me from the front.

I start heading that way, and smile when his yellow eyes meet mine. I’ve never been more grateful to hear blissful silence accompanying a tender gaze.

“Hey, glad to see you found the place okay.” He hops up the second he sees me and pulls the chair out for me to have a seat. It’s been a while since I’ve been pampered by an actual gentleman. “This place has a great atmosphere, and the food is amazing!”

“Yeah, it’s really warm and vibrant.” I agree as I get situated in the chair and he pushes me in. I twirl a piece of hair around my finger nervously as I look around at the crowd of people at other tables. What if they’re watching me? Kigai will– He’s not here, Dear One.

“Look at me.” Hizashi says, staring across the table and drawing me in with his essence. “There you go. No need to worry. I’m here.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle nervously, still twirling my hair as a comfort. “What would you recommend from here?”

“You’ve got to try the freckled lemonade. Unless you’re allergic to strawberries. Then, don’t.” Hizashi laughs, opening his menu. “But aside from that, the shrimp hibachi is killer! I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

I’ll grab the shrimp hibachi then, as it’s probably the simplest and one of the cheaper menu items. I wasn’t exactly left with a lot in my bank account to compensate for what Kigai took from me. I think with some financial anxiety.

Once we’ve made our decisions and the waiter has taken our orders, there’s a group of girls that walk by laughing. One of them gives me some side-eye and I instantly start fussing with my outfit. I pull up the shoulders of my burnt orange blouse and adjust my cardigan. Fatass. You know if you ate less I might have fewer men looking at your thick curves.

“You look gorgeous.” Hizashi says, and I snap my head up with worry. He flushes and holds up his hands, waggling them nervously. “I-I mean, you seemed worried about those girls and I just wanted you to know that you didn’t have to fix up anything. They were probably just jealous that you look so good…I-I mean! Well…oh man…” He rubs his shoulder as he fumbles over his words.

“It’s okay, Zashi.” I also flush, but only because I don’t think I’m worthy of his flustered manner. “I’m probably just overreacting anyway. I can’t…seem to turn off my anxieties.”

“It’s to be expected. You’re doing great based on what you’ve gone through.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin there. “You don’t have to be afraid around me.”

“I know.” I breathe, looking at our hands and feeling a strange combination of terror and warmth. Am I afraid of how good he makes me feel? You’re afraid of getting close and getting hurt again. I don’t want to be afraid of Hizashi.

“I’m sorry.” Hizashi pulls his hand back and gives me a smile. “I forget that touch is still hard for you. As I’m sure you know now, I’m a dramatic and expressive person. If I ever make you feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“You don’t.” I promise, looking up at him and instantly regretting the absence of his touch. “I’m…just scared.” I look down. “I’m scared of getting too close to you. I enjoy your company, but I’m afraid you’re too good to be true. I’m afraid you’ll either end up like Kigai or I’ll do something wrong and you’ll leave.” My eyes start watering.

The silence between us stretches on as we eat our food and Hizashi looks thoughtful over his next words. When he swallows a bite of rice, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I can’t make you trust that I’m not like Kigai. That’s something I know will come with time. But I can do my best to reassure you that even if you do something to upset me, I’m willing to communicate with you and not just leave you.” He opens and closes his mouth a few more times before sighing. “I care about you too much as a friend to leave you without trying to save the relationship first.”

When the words as a friend cut to my heart, I understand why I’m so scared. I take a deep breath. I’m falling in love with him, and I’m scared. You’ve been hurt. You’re allowed to be afraid…but you’re also allowed to love again. I don’t know if I’m ready to love again. And that’s okay. You can take your time. But I don’t want to lose him, either. I don’t know if I’m ready to watch him find love with someone else, but I don’t know if I’m ready to claim him as my own. I’m too scared. Then tell him that. In those words. I can’t…

I fix my face into a smile. “Thank you, Zashi.”

For the rest of dinner, I stew over my thoughts while I laugh at Hizashi’s jokes and stories. Between the ambient atmosphere and his glowing presence, I feel full of optimism as he walks me home.

It’s while I’m digging for my keys at the door that he throws me for a loop.

“Hey, um, Ichijiku?” His voice shakes, which is unusual for him.

“Yes, Hizashi?” I turn, pulling my key ring from my purse.

He takes a step forward until he’s close enough I can smell his cologne.

“I know that you’re going through a lot right now, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you for pushing through.” At first, he seems ready to leave it at that, but he opens his mouth again and looks at me with pink cheeks. “So, I have no right to ask this given what you’ve already gone through, but is it okay if I kiss you?”

I hold my breath. My chest gets tight and my muscles seize. You belong to me, got it? “Hizashi…”

“If the answer is no, that’s okay.” He says quickly. “I’m not trying to force you into anything and I certainly don't want to bring up any unhappy memories for you. I just…couldn’t go any longer without seeing where you stood. I was scared if I waited too long, I might lose the opportunity.”

Why does that sound exactly like what I was thinking in the restaurant? How do I tell him that I love him but I’m not ready? Say exactly that. Once the ground beneath me stops swaying and the beat of my heart returns to normal, I look up at him.

“Zashi, the answer is no…but not because I don’t have feelings for you.” I watch as his eyes dim and light up again. “I don’t know if I’m ready to make that kind of commitment. I want to be. I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t.” I reach up and caress his cheek. His hand wraps around mine as he leans into my hold, his expression akin to that of an adoring puppy. “And it’s not fair of me to want you this much and ask you to wait for me.” My voice gets tight. I want you to hold me and keep me close, but I’m afraid if I let you, you’ll choke me. And I’m not worth the wait. I’m not worth the work and the effort so I know you’ll walk away and I’m sorry. “So, you don’t have to wait for me. But if it’s any consolation, I think I have it in me to do this.” I lean up on my tiptoes, and place a tearful kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Hizashi, even if you’re not meant to be mine.” I swallow thickly and turn away to unlock my door before disappearing inside.

. . . . .

Hey, Ichi, can we talk?

Ichan, are you there?

I’m going to grab frozen yogurt later, want to join?

I’m starting to worry about you. Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?

Ever since the night we’ve had dinner, Hizashi has still checked in on me regularly. I’ve been trying to distance myself in the hopes that by doing so, he’ll stop trying to reach out and move on with his life.

He proves to be rather stubborn.

I’m sorry if I’ve worried you. I’m fine. I finally send, not wanting him to think I’m in any sort of trouble.

I’m glad to hear it! The response comes in seconds. Are you free?

That’s where I stop. I can’t entertain this. I’ve already told him that he’d have to wait for me, and I’m not worth the time. Shouldn’t he get to decide what’s worth his time?

I hug my knees to my chest on the couch and stare out the window overlooking the city. Everything is colder now that winter’s hit. Frost paints the windowpane and people walk down the streets blowing smoke from their lips. The cold would be much more enjoyable if I had Hizashi’s warmth to complement it.

My jaw clenches as frustration mounts. I don’t want to push him away but… Then why are you? Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? Shouldn’t I be proud of myself for communicating my needs clearly? My therapist is certainly proud I’ve set boundaries and worked on coping skills. With all of this handled, we’ve been able to work on how to respond to my flashback triggers and implement strategies to work through them.

But even she thinks I’ve been a little extreme cutting all communication with Hizashi.

Yeah, I’m free. I send the text before I can talk myself out of it and then pull my blanket around myself to hide from whatever might follow.

A knock sounds at my door. I peek out from under my blanket as my breath catches.

“Who is it?” I call.

“The one! The only! Hizashi Yamadaaaaaaaa!”

One voice. One voice and spring blossoms in my veins amidst the cold winter storm.

When I open the door my body moves on instinct. There is no thought in my mind when my arms reach out and pull him in. There is no question or hesitation when tender arms meet my back and squeeze tight. There is only Hizashi.

“You never let me answer that night.” He breathes in my ear, before pulling back and tilting my chin up. His expression is inescapable. “I love you, too, Ichan. You’re worth waiting for.”

“I’m so sorry.” My chest quivers. “Hizashi, I’m so sorry. I was afraid.”

“I know.”

“I thought you’d want a better life without me.”

“That life doesn’t exist for me. Not if you’re out of the picture.”

“I’m not worth the wait.”

“You’re worth the world, lovebug.”

I hug him for the next three minutes, thanking God for His mercy and kindness, and I thank God for Hizashi. He feels so good. I don’t ever want to leave. Why don’t you start there then? The idea comes to me quite by surprise, and I look up at Hizashi with newfound hope burning in my chest.

“Hey, Hizashi?”

“Yes?” His thumb strokes my cheek.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a kiss…but would you settle with cuddles on the couch?”

The corners of his lips turn up into that heartstopping grin. “I’d love that.”

. . . . .

We start small. For the first few weeks, we’re barely close enough for it to be considered cuddles. I mainly sit by him and rest my head on his shoulder. Gradually, however, we start making some headway. Leaning on his shoulder turns into sitting in his lap and curling under his chin, which turns into laying beside him, which turns into fully wrapping myself around him and taking well-earned naps.

It’s a little scary at first, being so close to him. I imagine it a little like being too close to the sun, always on the lookout for getting burned. But he’s attentive, gentle, and patient. When a small miscalculated move makes me flinch or freak out or freeze, he’s apologetic and understanding.

And thus, we manage to move into those bigger steps together. Doubts and fears of Kigai become less pervasive the more Hizashi shows me he’s not going to hurt me. With each passing week as he proves it, I find myself more and more open to his touch. I find myself more expectant of it. But most of all, I find myself more eager for it.

“Ichi, where’d you get this beanie? I need one!” Hizashi turns the blue and orange striped beanie in his hand.

“That? I made it. You can have it if you want.” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his middle and sighing into his back. “It was meant to be a craft experiment. But it turned out sort of ick yucky.”

“Ick yucky? It’s magical!” He uses my token phrase as he pulls the beanie on and poses. “What do you think? Am I runway ready yet?”

I reach my fingers under the beanie and give his hair a good ruffle, effectively messing up his hair and sending the beanie to the floor. “Now you are.”

“Wa–heeeeeyyyyyy!” He pouts and bends down to look at me with sad puppy eyes. “How am I supposed to look like a model now?”

One moment I’m giggling at his antics and the next my lips press against his. My fingers wind up his chest and around his neck and I’m hanging onto him like he’s my last chance at oxygen. When his hands move to my hips, I’m violently yanked back into reality and I pull back hard, gasping.

“I’m sorry. Should I have stopped you?” Hizashi reaches out for me, but doesn’t close the distance. “Do I need to give you some space?”

“Was that your first kiss?” I blurt, before hiding my face as Hizashi’s face wavers between his and Kigai’s. I take a few, steadying breaths and Hizashi is himself again. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. I don’t…know what came over me.”

There’s a sad smile on his face. I don’t like it. His features don’t model sadness very well. It doesn’t fit him.

“It’s okay. No, it wasn’t my first kiss, I regret to say.” He looks sheepish before his eyes sparkle. “But it was definitely the best kiss.”

A few moments pass. I did it. I wasn’t thinking about it, but I did it. And it didn’t trigger anything. Maybe…I could try again…I think I want to.

“If I move slowly…do you think we could try that again?” I ask.

“Please.”

So we do. I taste him again and spring blossoms into summer. Sunshine sinks into my veins and hope blossoms in my chest. Light brightens the dark fear in my mind and joy sings through my heart.

And Hizashi doesn’t let me go.

4 notes · View notes

ciaossu-imagines · 1 year

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Continuing on with this fandom meme, this time for my long-time fandom that's been surprisingly more popular than I thought it would be, Saiyuki!

Send me a letter and I’ll tell you which character…

A: Is most attractive (to me): Honestly, this one tends to fluctuate a lot. It’s changed every time I’ve read or reread the manga as to which person I find most attractive, though let’s be real…they’re all attractive. This latest time around though, I was very, very much into Gojyo!

B: Gets bored the fastest: It’s a toss up between Goku and Gojyo. Gojyo is more of a quiet, lazy bored though as compared to Goku’s much more antsy, louder, and whinier bored.

C: Is the most open to cuddling: Gojyo craves physical touch. The reasons why are numerous and probably something he should discuss with a therapist, if only their world had those, but that physical contact? That act of just feeling someone against you, alive and real and wanting to be there with you? It’s something he would honestly go a little insane without. Cuddling and physical contact is a necessity for him, to the point he seeks it in random women he can pick up just to have it.

D: Fears death the most: Despite having so much power and control over it, or maybe because of that, Hazel has a proper fear of death, more so than any other character I could think of.

E: Is the most emotive: A ‘stupid monkey’, Goku rarely thinks about hiding what he’s thinking or feeling. Most of the time, he’s upfront and his emotions and reactions are somewhat easy to see or guess, especially so for those who know him well.

F: Is my favourite: All of the main four, to be honest, and Dokugakuji. They all kind of tie for the same place as there’s so much about each character that entertains and intrigues me and gets me to thinking and wondering. Purely to write about, I feel Gojyo edges everyone out though as he’s always come the most naturally to me to write for.

G: Has the greenest thumb: I feel like Yaone not only has a green thumb but genuinely enjoys plants and gardening. She’d definitely be a plant mama if she could and would have names for her plants and would hum or talk to them.

H: Trusts their horoscope the most: Lirin is quite superstitious that way, something the others make fun of her for.

I: Tends to idolize people they shouldn’t: While her reasoning is sound, and it’s not idolization but approval she craves, Lirin does have some issues in that area.

J: Tells the most dad jokes: Hakkai likes puns. Does that make him a dad? If so, he’d be okay with that. It’s better than everyone considering him the team mom! His puns are delivered so stealthily too, with the same serene expression he often wears, and he never explains the pun.

K: Is the most skilled in the kitchen: I hate giving the same answer over and over, but it really is Hakkai. He is a good cook and does honestly enjoy cooking for others.

L: Lies the most: Nii. It’s more half-truth or things that could vaguely be interpreted as true most of the time, just to give himself some leeway if anyone should accuse him but honestly, he’s perfectly content to lie and manipulate and actually enjoys doing so.

M: Is the biggest memer: If memes existed in the world of Saiyuki, I feel that all of Kougaiji’s group except for Kougaiji would be all into memes. And they’d constantly bombard Kougaiji with them because the poor man just does not understand them.

N: Needs way more attention from me: Honestly, thinking about it, the answer kind of surprised me but it’s definitely Kougaiji. I can count on one hand the number of times I think I’ve actually written anything for him, despite thinking that he’d be one of the most popular. Normally, it’s just the main four I write for, or their previous incarnations.

O: Has the most OCs of their own: I feel like Goku wins this one. He made up friends, people, stories to occupy his mind in those long years he spent alone because it was the only way to protect his mind.

P: Is the purest, most perfect cinnamon roll: Jeep. It’s Jeep because it sure as hell isn’t anyone else!

Q: Is the quickest to judge others: Sanzo is a judgmental asshole. I love him to death, but he’d probably judge me for even that.

R: Feels the most detached from reality: Reality? Nii could really stand to learn what that even is. I really don’t think he’s fully aware, living in his mind as much as he does, spinning and spiraling plans and plots…that and the man is insane. That’s about as far from reality as a mind can go.

S: Has the strongest spirit: There is not one single character among the main cast of characters who do not have strong spirits. They simply could not live if they didn’t.

T: Is the most terrifying: This is just for me personally, but Nii scares the ever-living shit out of me as a character. He’s crazy but such a smart crazy and it makes him dangerous beyond belief.

U: Is the most unapologetic for the way they live their life: All of the characters do. They’ve all made hard choices and been through a lot. They stick by their decisions; they live the lives they’ve chosen and give it all they have.

V: Is the best at video games: If video games existed, I really feel like both Hakkai and Sanzo would be insanely good gamers. With his pretty face and filthy mouth, I could actually see Sanzo becoming a popular Twitch streamer, only at the insistence of the others.

W: Watches the most anime: Again, assuming anime was a thing in their world…I feel it would have been Tenpou. He seems like he’d be all into many types of anime, but especially Shonen or gag anime, and would get really into a lot of fandoms.

X: Is the most xenial towards complete strangers: Hazel but only if those complete strangers are yokai or half yokai. Basically, anything along those lines and he thinks you’re trash to be wiped out.

Y: Yells the most: Sanzo, but to be fair, they normally give him a reason to yell at them.

Z: Gets the most overzealous over something others wouldn’t expect: Dokugakuji actually really likes poetry, especially haiku. While he sucks at writing, having horribly illegible handwriting, he enjoys spoken poetry and is pretty good at making them up himself when he’s in the right mood.

#saiyuki #fandom prompt #dokugakuji #sanzo #genjo sanzo #field marshal tenpou #tenpou saiyuki #cho hakkai #sha gojyo #dr nii #nii jianyi #jeep saiyuki #son goku #goku saiyuki #yaone #lirin #kougaiji

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godsfavdarling · 2 months

Text

chapter 36

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc

summary: Molly finally openes up to Spencer and tells him everything.

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist

warnings: mentions of miscarriage!

words: 2,4k

Molly sat in the therapist's office, her fingers nervously tapping against her knee as she avoided the probing gaze of her counselor.

She had been hesitant to start therapy, reluctant to open up about the worries and fears that had been plaguing her mind. And now, faced with the reality of confronting her emotions, she felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

The therapist, a kind-faced woman with gentle eyes, spoke softly, her voice coaxing Molly to share her thoughts.

"Molly, I know it can be difficult to open up, especially when you're afraid of burdening someone else with your troubles. But bottling up your emotions will only make things harder in the long run. Your relationship with Spencer is important to you, I can tell. Talking to him can help you both navigate through the challenges you face. We’ve been talking about this for weeks. Don’t you think he can see and... wants to know what’s going on? "

Molly sighed, feeling the weight of the therapist's words settle on her shoulders. She knew deep down that her counselor was right—that keeping her worries to herself was only causing more harm than good.

But the thought of burdening Spencer with her troubles, of adding to the weight he already carried, filled her with guilt and uncertainty.

"I know he can tell that something is wrong but he's been through so much already," Molly whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to add to his troubles. He's trying so hard to be strong for both of us."

The therapist nodded, her expression understanding. "I can see how much you care about Spencer, Molly. But it's important to remember that a healthy relationship is built on trust and communication. By sharing your thoughts and feelings with him, you're not burdening him—you're strengthening your bond and allowing him to support you in return. Maybe you should trust him a bit more?"

Molly chewed on her lower lip, her mind racing with doubts and insecurities. But deep down, she knew that she couldn't continue to hide her emotions from Spencer. He deserved to know what was troubling her, and deserved the chance to support her.

“What if you were in Spencer’s spot? Would you like him to hide it from you?”

And as she imagined herself in Spencer's place, she realized that she would want to know if he was keeping something from her. She would want the chance to help him, to ease his burdens and share his struggles. And she knew that Spencer deserved the same opportunity.

………………………..

As Spencer sat at his place, the ringing phone broke the silence. Seeing Molly's name flashing on the screen, he immediately picked up.

"Hey, Molly!"

"Hey, could I maybe come over if you’re not busy? I... I need to talk to you," Molly replied, her voice sounding tired and strained.

"Of course, come over," Spencer said, his heart sinking at the fatigue evident in her voice.

A short while later, Molly arrived at Spencer's doorstep, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Without a word, Spencer led her inside and guided her to the couch, where they both sat down.

He could sense her hesitation, her struggle to find the right words to express herself.

Spencer gave her a reassuring smile, silently urging her to say what she needed to say. He could tell that she was finally ready to open up, to share the weight that she had been carrying alone for so long.

And he was determined to be there for her, to listen without judgment and offer whatever support she needed.

So he sat there, calm and collected, paying full attention to every word she said. And as Molly began to speak, her voice gaining strength with each passing moment, Spencer felt a sense of relief wash over him.

"I've just been to therapy," Molly began, her voice tentative, as if she were stepping onto fragile ground. "I started it a few months ago."

Spencer's heart raced as Molly's words hung in the air, laden with unspoken weight.

Why hadn't she mentioned her therapy sessions before? Was she ashamed? Was it because of him?

Yet, he held back, letting her lead the conversation.

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, a mix of concern and curiosity swirling within him. "Are they nice, your therapist?" he asked gently, trying to gauge her comfort.

Molly nodded, a faint smile flickering across her lips. "Oh yeah, she's lovely," she replied, her voice gaining a bit more confidence. "And I've been just talking, you know... about stuff."

Spencer nodded in understanding, offering her a supportive nod. He sensed her struggle to articulate her thoughts, her mind seemingly tangled in a web of emotions and uncertainties.

He remained patient, waiting for her to unravel her thoughts at her own pace.

"It's not because of you," Molly rushed to clarify, her words tinged with urgency. "I'm not in therapy because of you. It's just... a lot. I don't know..."

Spencer's heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in her voice, his own emotions mirroring hers. He reached out, gently squeezing her hand in reassurance. "I get it," he murmured softly. "I'm happy if it helps. The last few months have been tough for both of us."

Molly's eyes welled up with tears, and Spencer's heart ached at the sight.

"Um... can you promise me you won't be mad or upset?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Spencer's heart ached as he watched the tears well up in Molly's eyes, his instinct to protect her kicking into overdrive. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms, knowing that she needed space to share whatever was weighing on her mind.

"Of course, Molly," he replied gently, his voice soft and reassuring. "I could never be mad or upset with you for being honest with me. You can tell me anything."

Molly nodded, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "I just... I didn't tell you about therapy because... well, I didn't want you to worry. And it's not because of you, Spencer, I promise. It's just... There's been a lot going on, and I needed someone to talk to. Someone who isn't you, I guess."

Spencer listened intently, his heart breaking at the vulnerability in Molly's voice. He knew she had always been fiercely independent, hesitant to burden him with her troubles. But seeing her struggle with her emotions now, he wished he could take away all her pain with just a simple word.

"I understand, Molly," he said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "And I'm glad you found someone to talk to. You deserve to have someone who can support you, even if it's not me. You know, therapy is more common than you might think. In fact, studies show that about 20% of adults in the United States have attended therapy at some point in their lives. And you know what's even more interesting? Nearly 75% of people who attend therapy report significant improvements in their mental health and overall well-being."

He paused, letting the statistics sink in before continuing. "It's not just about talking to someone, although that can be incredibly therapeutic in itself. It's about having a safe space to explore your thoughts and feelings, to gain insight into yourself and your relationships, and to develop coping strategies for managing life's challenges…. Sorry I'm rumbling…”

Molly sniffled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It’s okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I just... I needed you to know. I didn't want to keep it from you anymore and..."

Finally, after a long pause, Molly took a deep breath and met his gaze with a mixture of courage and vulnerability. "I started going to therapy because something happened in March," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Molly's voice trembled as she recounted the harrowing experience. "I was at the grocery store... I felt sick and weak all day," she began, her words faltering as tears welled in her eyes. "And then... I lost consciousness… When I woke up, I was in the hospital... and they told me… I… um… had a miscarriage."

Spencer's heart clenched at her words, a wave of shock crashing over him. He reached out instinctively, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. "Molly, I... I" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Molly buried her face in her hands, her sobs wracking her body as she struggled to find the strength to continue. "Spencer, I didn't even know I was pregnant, I swear. I didn't know" she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t know. My periods were always irregular and with everything going on I was stressed and everything and I felt sick so I wasn't eating. Now looking back I probably felt sick because I was pregnant but I thought it’s just anxiety and....”

As Molly's words washed over him, Spencer's mind spun with a whirlwind of emotions. Shock, disbelief, and sorrow collided within him, leaving him reeling with the weight of Molly's confession. He felt a surge of anguish at the thought of Molly going through such a traumatic experience alone, without his support.

His heart ached as he watched tears stream down her cheeks, her voice choked with emotion as she struggled to articulate the painful truth. He could see the torment etched in her features, the anguish of losing something she didn't even know she had. And he wished he could take her pain away, to bear the burden of her grief on his own shoulders.

He reached out, taking her trembling hands in his, offering her a silent anchor of support and reassurance.

Inside, Spencer's mind raced with a torrent of thoughts and questions.

How could Molly have gone through such a traumatic experience without him by her side? How could she bear the weight of her grief alone? And why hadn't she told him sooner, so he could be there for her in her time of need?

"Did you tell anyone?" Spencer asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

Molly shook her head, her tears flowing freely now. "No, because I knew they'd tell you, and I didn't want to bother you with something you couldn't help because you were all locked up, and it would just break you even more. So I kept quiet."

Spencer's heart clenched at her words, understanding the weight of her decision to protect him from further anguish. He held her tighter, trying to offer whatever solace he could.

Molly's breaths came in short gasps now, her struggle to calm down evident. Spencer squeezed her gently, trying to ground her in the present moment, to let her know that she wasn't alone in her pain.

"I thought I could handle it on my own... but I was wrong," Molly choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.

As tears streamed down her face, Molly's apologies tumbled out between sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. Each word was heavy with the weight of her pain and regret, a desperate plea for forgiveness and understanding.

He gently wiped away her tears, his touch tender and reassuring.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice filled with compassion. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm just glad you told me."

Molly looked up at him with tear-stained eyes, her expression wrought with anguish. "I know how much you want to be a dad," she whispered, her voice heavy with sorrow, "and now... I don't know..."

Spencer's heart clenched at her words, the weight of her pain echoing within him. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes filled with love and understanding.

"Molly," he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion, "Nothing could ever change how much I love you. All I want is for you to be okay. You are all that matters to me okay?"

He couldn't fathom the depths of her suffering, the loneliness and fear she must have felt. And the thought that she had kept it all hidden from him, to spare him further anguish, filled him with a sense of profound sadness.

As Molly continued to share her heartbreaking experience, Spencer's heart clenched with a mixture of sorrow and indignation. He listened intently as she recounted the nurse's persistent questioning, her voice filled with embarrassment and shame.

"It was so embarrassing," Molly whispered, her cheeks flushed with humiliation. "The nurse kept asking if there was anybody she could call, if I had family or a boyfriend or a friend... And I just kept saying no, over and over again. But she kept pushing, and I was all alone..."

Spencer's jaw tightened at the thought of Molly enduring such scrutiny and judgment in her moment of need. He couldn't bear the idea of her feeling isolated and vulnerable, surrounded by strangers who looked at her with suspicion and misunderstanding.

"I'm so sorry, Molly," he murmured, his voice filled with empathy and frustration. "You shouldn't have had to go through that alone. Nobody should."

As Spencer gently suggested they lay down together, he could see the exhaustion etched in every line of Molly's face. She nodded silently, her tears still flowing freely, and allowed him to guide her to the bed. As they settled in, Molly lay her head on Spencer's chest, seeking some comfort in the warmth of his embrace.

Spencer remained silent, his heart heavy with the weight of Molly's pain. He wrapped his arm around her trembling form, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her back. With his other hand, he clasped hers tightly, offering her a silent anchor of support.

In the quiet of the room, Spencer's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him, the nagging belief that his absence had somehow contributed to Molly's suffering and miscarriage.

He knew he couldn't change the past, couldn't undo the mistakes that had led them to this moment. But that didn't stop him from blaming himself, from wishing he could have been there for her when she needed him most.

If only I had been here, Spencer thought bitterly, his heart aching with regret.

If only I had been by her side, none of this would have happened. And if it still happened, she wouldn't have had to go through this alone.

But even as the guilt threatened to consume him, Spencer knew that dwelling on the past would only bring more pain.

What mattered now was being there for Molly, offering her all the love she needed to heal, just like she offered it to him. And as he held her close, he silently vowed to never leave her again.

#keep holding on #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid comfort

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