#I've had this as a symptom forever but I never thought about it that much until I started writing about it

[afniel]

God damn I'm tired and extra dizzy today, which I've figured out some of why that happens. Evidently that's my reaction to overstimulation fatigue. Good to know, explains a lot. No idea what to do about it and I did expect to have some sucky days after going to San Francisco anyway so it's whatever, but it's nice to have figured out a specific trigger.

Except that's cool and all but I almost couldn't fold laundry today because it involved a lot of looking up and down and that was unnecessarily rough. This was after sleeping like 11 hours because my shit-ass tired-ass brain demanded a hard reboot more or less, and I'm still kind of gross today even so. Kind of glad they rescheduled the root canal I was gonna have Tuesday for like two weeks out, because I am probably not gonna be quite recovered for another week at least and dental work fucks me up also so that would have been an Everything Hurty Syndrome 2x Combo.

Bleh. At least when I'm writing chronic illness/disability it's some own voices legit type ass shit, but does it have to be, because I could do without this. My whole me hurts and nothing seems to help and also turning my head too fast will knock me the hell over. Good times. ✌️😔

#chronic illness #fibro #chronic pain #chronic fatigue #disability #like I looked up at the TV where my partner is playing FFVII Rebirth and down at my phone just now #and that was not a good plan. I got very dizzy just doing that. #The Suffering is like extra spicy recipe today because I just Don't Do Crowds and never have really #went flat catatonic once in Tokyo during rush hour on a train. that was cool. (it wasn't) #(ex had to drag my unresponsive ass to a corner and wait for me to eventually reconnect to reality) #(it took a while. he was Very Mad at me which was not a kind way to handle it.) #(like sorry we can't all be neurotypical in here. you cannot fathom how crowded the Yamanote Line gets unless you've seen it) #I did get sat on and purred at by every cat last night tho bc they could tell I was Very Not Normal so that was nice at least #I've had this as a symptom forever but I never thought about it that much until I started writing about it #I think I'm a lot more aware of it now. which honestly is probably safer for me bc who wants to fall over? #not me. done it a few times. not fun. can't recommend it.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Protective (One-Shot)

A/N: I have always wanted to do a Black Hollywood power couple series for MBJ. I've been working on the OC in this (Charlotte Jordan) for a while and am feeling so inspired by the amazing content from the Creed III press run. So enjoy :) I have a million random half-written one-shots of them that I may continue posting if folks are interested… make it into a real series.

A run in with a fan brings out Michael's protective side.

***

Charlotte watched her husband for a few moments, her body lazily leaning against the door frame of their bathroom. She was not used to their evenings being so silent but she knew his mind was too consumed with anger and concern to be much of a conversationalist. She understood so she left him to his thoughts for a few hours before they went to bed. However, she knew neither of them would get much sleep if they did not talk, even if it was an uncomfortable subject. 

She drug her feet across the soft carpet toward their shared bed and slid into her side, her hands pulling her wild loose curls into a pineapple on the top of her head. As she settled, his hand instinctively rested on her thigh as he absentmindedly drew patterns in her skin. She had barely been out of his sight for most of the night, always within arms length. She glanced down and examined his knuckles. They were free of the blood that had caked across his knuckles now, leaving the bruises and abrasions clear to her eye. She could not stop herself from grabbing his hand and examining it closer to see the damage for herself, a wave of guilt crashing over her. 

“It doesn’t hurt, Els.” 

She raised an eyebrow that begged him to be honest but he merely shrugged. 

“I got worse while shooting,” Michael offered, referencing the film they were currently in the midst of promoting. “It’s nothing. Promise.” 

“It’s something to me,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. “We gonna talk about it?” 

He sighed, his hand rubbing his exhausted eyes. If they had not been about to engage in a difficult conversation, she would have smiled at how much he resembled their twin boys when they were fighting sleep. 

While Michael enjoyed press runs and promoting his work, pulling double duty as the director and lead of Creed III meant that this was the most exhausting press run in a long time. The only one that rivaled it in his mind was Black Panther. And he knew his actions earlier that evening were both a symptom of that exhaustion and the cause of more exhaustion for himself, his wife and their respective media teams. 

Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan and Michael B. Jordan were originally having a ball promoting Creed III together. However, tonight proved that the good vibes of their press tour could not last forever. Given their status as “movie stars,” neither of them were strangers to the occasional fan interaction that crossed the lines of human decency and decorum. Generally, they both knew how to brush it off and defuse the situation for all involved. But tonight was not one of those nights. When a fan grabbed Charlotte’s arm to try to force her to take a photo with him while on the red carpet promoting the event, Charlotte, at first, tried to handle it herself. She tried to remove herself from the vice grip around her arm, her face struggling to maintain a cheerful disposition despite wanting to grimace in pain. However, when his grip would not loosen or break, it only took mere seconds for her husband to abandon the interview he was doing further down the carpet and rush to her aid. His threatening tone did nothing to assuage the man holding her as he demanded a photo nor did Michael want to hear Charlotte’s weak attempts to agree to take the photo to end the chaotic scene forming around them. 

A one-two punch from Michael later sent the fan on his ass with a menacing threat to never put his hands on his wife again. Charlotte barely had time to process as Michael whisked her away from the carpet and her husband checked her for any additional injuries. It took longer than it should’ve for her to convince him that she was unharmed so he would  return to the carpet to finish his interviews and the evening and party to honor the movie and his hard work could continue. 

More than anything, Charlotte was frustrated and embarrassed. This incident had now gone viral, much to her chagrin, with the entire internet dissecting she and Michael’s decisions. Thankfully, most were on their side, though there were some victim blamers who felt Charlotte should have just taken the photo to keep the peace. And though she hated it, she did not disagree with them. However, she hated that the discourse was now more focused on a crazy drunk fan than her husband’s hard work and directorial debut. 

At the mention of the incident, he eyed her bare arm, a look of rage passing across his face as he took in the blossoming bruises on her usually flawless skin.

Michael, on the other hand, was so filled with visceral rage and guilt that he did not even enjoy the rest of the night. He could not tell you what happened at the event, who he spoke to, or what he even said. He did not allow Charlotte out of his sight for a single moment the entire evening. While she worked the room with the unruffled grace and poise of a star, his eyes followed her like a hawk, ready to jump in if someone so much as stared at her for too long. He had to be diligent, because the one time he was not, his wife was let bruised and it could’ve been significantly worse. 

"It stings but it’s not too bad. Promise,” she offered him a similar refrain. “I’ve had worse too, unfortunately,” she chuckled, referencing her past. Her words echoed her husband’s earlier statement. Assurances that they were ok were all they could seem to offer each other but it still felt insufficient in putting the other’s soul at ease. They could feel the restlessness in each other, the guilt and fears they felt but did not want to voice.  

"That doesn't make me feel better," he remarked, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

Charlotte winced, "Touche." She should have known mentions of her past would not ease her husband's heart, only fire him up farther. "I'm ok though, Bakari. Seriously." 

"He could've hurt you, Els. Why didn’t you get my attention? How long were you struggling with him before I noticed?” 

Charlotte sighed, she wanted to lie but she knew it never worked with Michael. He always saw through her. 

“Not long… just like 10 seconds or so.” 

“Too many seconds too long. The moment he touched you, you should’ve gotten me to handle it.” 

Charlotte threw her hands up in the air and scoffed, “You aren't my bodyguard, Bakari! You're my husband and during this press run, you're my director and co-star. I was… I was trying to avoid causing a scene at your event. It’s not about me or our relationship. This entire thing,” she waved her hands as she referenced their press tour, “Should be about you. This is your moment. And it doesn’t do shit for your reputation for the world to see you boxing fans in real life behind something small.” 

Michael’s eyes bugged out of his head. “’Something small??’ Nah fuck that. I don’t give a fuck about t-this press tour, my reputation, or any of that other shit if you’re in danger or hurt, Els. And some nigga grabbing you like he owns you ain't small shit to me. Your physical safety ain't small shit to me. Look me in the eye and tell me that wasn’t triggering for you… the way he touched you… manhandled you like that.” Her eyes shifted away from his at his statement. The truth was she could not say that. “Exactly. You don’t do shit for me pretending like it didn’t bother you when I know it did.” 

“I just… don’t want to see you get hurt because of me. What if he had tried to hit you o-or pulled out a weapon o-or something? I don’t want you to feel like you gotta protect me all the time. And I don’t wanna be a burden to you like that and mess things up for you.” 

He tugged gently on her arm, pulling his wife into his lap so her legs were straddling his thighs. She settled on his lap, his hands going to her waist. 

“Look at me,” he demanded gently as her eyes stayed trained on his chest, her guilt causing her to avoid his gaze. “None of that. Look at me, honeybee.” At the sound of his favorite nickname for her, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “I know you don’t need me to defend you or protect you. But you will never be a burden to me, ever. And you can never mess anything up for me. Protecting you isn’t a burden or a-a nuisance, Charlotte. And it ain’t an instinct I can turn off just because we’re surrounded by fucking cameras and at a work event. I never want to see you look like you did tonight, to feel unsafe when I’m 20 feet from you. That shit aint happening on my watch, aight?” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her bruised arm before sitting back up. “The night was still amazing, he deserved it and I don’t regret it and our team will figure out how to spin it tomorrow. I aint worried so you shouldn’t be either.”

She nodded, her hands resting on his bare chest. “You shouldn’t feel guilty either. If there is one thing I’ve always been with you… it’s safe. You make me feel safe.” 

She moved her hands to the bottom of her jade silk night gown before pulling it over her head in a swift movement, revealing her nude body beneath. She smirked at how quickly the frustrated in his eyes changed to lust. She knew when Michael got worked up, sex was one of his favorite ways to decompress, to lose himself in the act. It was a favorite for her too. 

“Will you let me say thank you, love?” Her fingernails trailed down the deep V toward his boxers as she sucked on the skin on his neck, feeling his erection start to grow beneath her. “For loving me,” she placed a kiss on his chest. “For protecting me.” Another kiss on his V right above his boxers. “And for always keeping me safe.” Her mouth was almost salivating as he quickly shed his boxers, his manhood at attention for the love of his life. 

However before she could get a taste, he stopped her. He lifted her head to meet his eyes and studied her for a moment. 

“You sure you’re aight?”

She nodded and smiled at him, kissing him softly. “I’m good, promise. Now let me work… please,” she bit his lip gently cause him to chuckle, his desire for sleep completely forgotten. 

Read Chapter 1 of MBJxfamous OC series

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future MBJ one shots!

#michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan x reader #Michael b Jordan fanfic #mbjordanedit #creed 3 #black panther #adonis creed #creed iii #black writers

[fairydares]

Reminiscing on the Hard Road (A Gruvia Fic)

Rating: M

Summary: While on his way to a mission, Gray reflects on the hardships, tears, battles, and triumphs which led to him and Juvia finding their happiness together. (Or: the story of how they finally, officially got together told through memories).

AO3 Link ; FFNet Link

Words: ~8,000

Warnings: Please read with caution as this contains adult themes & situations (though nothing explicit). Also swearing and allusions to mental illness, dissociation and depression symptoms especially. Man this feels like the end of a drug commercial. Enjoy!

AN: I realized how long it'd been since I updated Chasing Tails and was feeling really bad about it. I'm so sorry, guys! I've just been really busy! I don't have time to get Chapter 5 up tonight, but I do have the time to share this Gruvia piece I wrote a while ago as a karmic sort of apology.

With that in mind, this is a bit of a rough, long one-shot. It comes from a chapter in a larger, mostly Nalu-focused fic which I may or may not ever actually finish writing. Sooo it's not even really a one-shot so much as it's, like, a segment of a chapter from one. I also barely had time to clean it up ever so slightly.

However, I thought Gruvia fans would appreciate anyway. Maybe one day, I'll write the whole thing because I honestly think it could be a story, or maybe a series of drabbles? This is all you kids get for now, though, lol. no fucks given (just kidding this will keep me up nights.)

o(O)o

Ignoring Natsu's whining about still being motion sick from beside him, Gray buried his hands in his pockets and let his eyes engage in their favorite past-time: roaming the curves of the blue-haired woman walking in front of him.

Him and Juvia had officially been together for over half a year, but his eyes still snagged on the same places they always had. The sway of her blue hair, now long enough to partly obscure the pinch of her waist and flare of her hips with each swish. The pretty, cute flush that lived on her cheeks as she listened attentively to Erza, who was chattering about a famous desert shop in the area. The way shadow and light shifted over the curve of her rear. And—forever his most favorite—the exposed skin of her legs. Long, toned, moon white...and fucking perfect.

Gray felt his cheeks heat, but couldn't find it in himself to drag his eyes away. The solidness and length of their relationship did absolutely nothing to diminish the novelty of her beauty, like he might once have feared it would. Instead, it hypnotized him more surely than ever. Noticing all the men drooling over her figure as they walked past, Gray was aware of the sting of possessiveness and annoyance which rose in his chest, but was also easily able to ignore it.

He was as comfortable as any guy with a stunning girlfriend could be in his own jealousy, these days. More shockingly, so was Juvia, a fact that was plain from the way she shot only perfunctory glares at the women eyeing him and whispering to each other as they passed.

As he stared at her back, his lips quirked ever so slightly. It had taken time, tears, and work—more work than he could ever have anticipated—to get to this point in their relationship. But work had never been more worth it.

His mind wandered to reminiscence. To where it had all started, when they had started, after the 100-Year Quest had ended and he'd finally—with Lucy, Levy, and Erza's help—managed to ask Juvia to be his girlfriend.

"Not just 'yours'," Levy had insisted, explaining that phrasing would confuse her. "Your girlfriend."

He'd actually fought them on it. Not really because he had a problem with commitment anymore (okay, it was a little embarrassing, but not too much) but because the words "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" felt ridiculous, considering everything they'd been through. How deeply he cared about her. For crying out loud, they'd tried to kill themselves for each other. He'd kill for her, die for her, and—most importantly—he would live for her. Beyond making his ears feel like they were going to melt off, the word "girlfriend" felt trite.

But when Lucy and Levy demanded to know if that meant he was going to propose, he'd balked. Actually, having the m-word shoved right up against his nose kind of made his soul flee his body. As ready as he was for a romantic relationship, he wanted to go through the actual experience of having one. Like, with all the steps involved. In order. He was at the point in his life that he wanted it more than anything.

More importantly, he wanted to give Juvia that experience. He was determined to do right by her.

With the girls' reality check, and the point they'd made that ambiguity might make Juvia jump to the wrong conclusion or even hurt her, they'd convinced him. He'd been committed to making his long-awaited confession as special for Juvia as possible, complete with saying any embarrassing words she wanted to hear.

Gray still hadn't felt worthy of the love she gave him. He still struggled to believe he was a man who could protect her. But after everything he'd been through during the 100-Year-Quest, seeing how much she'd missed him the whole time, and his talk with Juvina-sama, he'd understood it was completely unfair to ask Juvia to wait for him to decide he was worthy enough to love her openly. He also wasn't above admitting that Juvina-sama's suggestion that she wouldn't wait forever had disquieted some irrational part of him enough to make him antsy, impatient to make absolutely sure they were exclusive.

He'd been completely flustered throughout his confession, but known it had gone as right as it could. Lucy, Levy, and Erza—who thought they'd been slick, hiding in a nearby bush to watch him confess—had agreed. (Lucy had annoyed him to no end by teasing him over how "adorable" he'd been.)

And yet...Juvia's response hadn't been quite what Gray hoped. Lucy hadn't noticed it, but he had. He didn't know exactly when it had happened, but at some point, he'd learned to read the Water Mage like an open book. For how sincere a person she was—a trait he was all too familiar with—Juvia could also be surprising, even mysterious. As transient as water, with hidden depths you'd never know a thing about unless you were willing to dive beneath the surface.

When Gray confessed, he'd braced himself for joyous screaming. He'd planned to freeze a literal flood of tears before it could wash them both away. He'd been prepared to get a concussion from how hard she'd glomp him in the street. But while she had said yes, demurely accepted the roses, and hugged him plenty tight...her response had been subdued. In hindsight, he could see the pattern her reaction fit: the way her gaze had dropped to the street despite her happy flush, the hesitant, nervous gleam in her eyes, the limited verbal response.

The only times she'd ever acted that way had been when he actually reciprocated some of her affection. When he'd promised to give her a straight answer, after he defeated END. When he'd given her a one-armed hug and said he was glad her "body" was safe, after he'd saved her from that wood bastard.

Something had been wrong. But when the girls who'd spied on him only gushed afterwards, not seeming to have noticed anything off, he'd shrugged off his concerns, assuming it was his own lack of romantic literacy. He'd been nervous, but also really excited to learn.

But as their relationship officially began...it quickly became obvious that there was a problem, and that a one-sided approach to fixing it just wasn't going to cut it.

Juvia had always been prone to mood swings severe enough to make Gray's head spin, but as soon as they started dating, her mood seemed to sink. He'd try to ask her about it only for her to put on an obviously fake, cheery front and insist she was fine.

At first, he was sure it must be his fault. He'd had no idea what he was doing wrong. At that point, the guilt he felt for not taking Juvia's feelings seriously for so long, for abandoning her in Amefurashi Village, and for nearly letting her die in an attempt to save him had been taking a serious toll on him. The guilt had sometimes left him ragged. Every time she seemed down, he beat himself up and tried to do better. Talking, dates, spending time together (even when it meant ditching missions he really wanted to go on with the team), accepting her gifts and acting happy about them (no matter how much they creeped him out).

But the more he'd tried to make up for everything, the worse it seemed to get. He watched her frustration rise as he tried to be more openly affectionate, her denials that she was frustrated getting louder. More and more, she gave, but when he gave back, she'd look ready to explode or burst into tears.

What had made everything come to a head was the sex. A surprise in itself. For all the ways their relationship had suffered, sex had never been one of them. It'd started back in the cabin they shared in Amefurashi Village. From the first night they'd moved in together, Juvia had not-so-surprisingly tried to edge her way into Gray's bed constantly. She'd use excuses of cold weather, make puppy eyes, and sew nauseatingly pink coupley bed sheets to try to lure him (when, he still had no idea).

Meanwhile, he struggled more and more to pretend he didn't find (most of) her antics adorable. Not to mention incredibly tempting. Things escalated to where he'd feel his excitement rising towards the end of their daily training sessions, to the point his body became conditioned to react when he saw the damn sun set.

He also felt increasing dread at the notion of having to turn Juvia down—and for having to sneak out in the middle of every night to "take care" of the problem she always left him with (cold showers didn't exactly work for an Ice Wizard).

Finally, one night, she'd pouted and whined that she was sore from training and begged for a massage. Gray didn't know if it was the fact she was asking him for something instead of offering; the unbelievably cute, sparkly-eyed, hopeful glances she kept sneaking at him; or the fact he could tell she actually was sore from the way her face would pinch as she attempted to stretch provocatively in front of him, but his resolve had shattered.

Before he could think and without a word, he'd lifted his covers and held her gaze, not bothering to hide the dark promise in his eyes.

Her reaction had been priceless. He'd never forget it.

His acceptance seemed to knock the breath straight out of her. Her eyes had gone round as saucers, staring into his eyes like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her cheeks had darkened. She'd stood stunned for so long that he'd started to get nervous, wondering if she'd only been being playful all this time, not really meaning to come on to him or maybe not expecting him to ever accept. But just as he'd been trying to field the disappointment sinking his heart and trying to think of how to promise he wouldn't do anything she didn't want, she'd hesitantly approached the bed, trembling.

After giving her the massage she'd asked for, he'd rewarded her bravery three times over.

After that, for the very first time, the dynamic of their relationship shifted in one, important way—the one which would force him to finally confront his own heart:

In terms of their physical relationship, he became the more dominant one. In this one aspect of their shared life, he chased. Gray flustered Juvia. He hadn't been able to get enough. What had once been a relentless, one-sided pursuit (one where she had, admittedly, been gaining on him without his notice) became a dance which had addicted him before he knew it.

The notion of reciprocating her feelings had once had him running for the hills. So it had been a huge shock to learn just how much he liked it.

She was so obviously happy and disbelieving that first time he slipped her clothes off in the moonlit dark, cursing over her beauty. Utterly awestruck when he'd seen to her pleasure (twice, he still liked to remember proudly) before even considering his own. Sex was the first time he heard her speak in the first-person, the first time she said his name without adding "-sama" (since that battle in the rain, anyway.)

It was when he lost himself in her soft skin, her passion, and her pleasure that some part of him was able to accept the truth she'd had the grace to surrender to from the very beginning.

The shift in their sex life was also when he'd started to twig something wasn't right between them. After Alvarez was when he'd started it back up. His plan had been to wait until he was able to reciprocate her feelings verbally, like he'd promised, but almost losing her had broken him in a way some part of him would never truly recover from. Between that and his final, full acceptance of his own feelings, there'd been no restraining himself. He'd come onto her with all the subtlety of a freight train the second they were alone.

Even then, something hadn't been quite right. She hadn't been herself, quiet enough that—even as...compromised as his critical thinking skills had been, at the time, and even in his heightened emotional state—he'd noticed. He'd pulled back and asked if she was okay, but when her response had simply been to drag him back in for a kiss that made his knees weak, he'd taken it as a yes and matched her passion enthusiastically.

She kept staying quiet in bed. It bothered the hell out of him, and he badgered her about it more than once, but would ultimately let it go when she insisted she was fine. In his defense, there had been a lot of reasons she could've become subdued. They had just fought a war. They were all exhausted from fixing the town and working to build peace in Fiore.

But after the 100-Year Quest and after his confession, she got even weirder. He noticed it all the time, in every aspect of their relationship, but it was especially noticeable in bed, when they were so close to each other, both completely vulnerable.

When they'd cohabitated, he'd almost always been the one to start something. He'd enjoyed that. He'd even (hell, especially) enjoyed the way she'd flirt, pretend to be oblivious to his advances, pout and blush and make him impress her, coax him to the brink of losing his mind before finally caving to both of their desires. Those times where he went from prey to predator had balanced their entire relationship, satisfying both of them.

Gray wasn't some slimeball who needed sex, but he did need some balance in their dynamic. The private, physical side of their relationship was just where it'd happened to play out. It could've played out anywhere in their relationship, if they were off sex for a while for whatever reason.

But as soon as they became official, it became clear she'd fight tooth and nail to make sure that never happened.

She came onto him. Every. Single. Time. He'd been a little surprised, but happy enough. At first. But as he pushed her to talk to him harder and she denied louder, he'd started to guess that something was genuinely, really wrong.

She didn't speak in the first-person when they were intimate, any more. She didn't drop the "-sama." Even worse, he started to suspect she was seducing him even when she wasn't really in the mood. Almost like she felt like she had to.

It had been one such time when he finally flipped his shit. Even now, walking behind her and appreciating her curves, the memory made his mood falter a little.

He regretted how he'd handled things. It shamed him to remember how he'd all but shoved her off him and refused to do anything else with her until she was ready to tell him whatever the hell was going on inside that crazy, watery head of hers. It was an ultimatum. A cruelly-put one, at that. He hadn't realized just how hurt and angry he was until the words flew out of his mouth.

Juvia had opened up, alright.

In fact, she'd exploded.

They'd screamed at each other, horrible things Gray could hardly stand to repeat even in his own head. She'd demanded that he quit wasting both their time and leave her again, like they both knew he would. He'd asked how stupid she could be to think he'd do that, when he was obviously dedicated enough to put up with her psycho stalker gifts. She'd retorted that her "psycho stalker gifts" didn't seem to have any affect on his libido. He'd yelled that she was the one jumping his bones, ever since he'd asked her out. She'd said that was because she actually cared about his happiness, implying that was something he'd never understand.

She'd ended the black, ugly fight with four hoarse words that ripped his heart out of his chest: "This is over, Gray-sama!"

His apartment door had slammed behind her.

He'd been too shocked and devastated to do anything but watch her go, not even managing to stagger to the door and chase after her until she was long-gone. Black curse power had swirled across his skin as he pelted to the guild, growling in frustration when he didn't find her there. Then he'd run all the way to the female dorms at Fairy Hills only to be deterred by Erza, who met him at the gate. She hadn't known anything about his and Juvia's fight, but she'd been drawn by his yelling.

His older sister figure had knocked him out "for his own good."

The next afternoon, Gray had woken up in his own bed. Not bothering to see if he was dressed (it would turn out he wasn't) he'd booked straight to the guild only to be devastated by the news that Juvia had taken a long-term S-class quest just that morning, news which was delivered by a sympathetic Mira.

Sure that it was over, that he'd ruined everything, he'd drunk himself sick—then kept drinking, swinging fists at anyone and everyone who tried to console him until, finally, in the wee hours of the next morning, Gajeel managed to knock him out of it.

The hostility, Gray had expected. Gajeel was Juvia's best friend; of course he was angry to learn that Gray had done something to upset her so much, she'd left for a Quest that could take months or even years to finish without so much as a word to Gajeel or any of their other comrades.

What did surprise Gray was the understanding Gajeel eventually showed.

Gray got his ass knocked flat by the Iron Dragon Slayer. From his back on the ground, he started to spit out what happened. With each word, the larger man had visibly calmed. After enough had come out, he'd awkwardly helped Gray to his feet (his own, gruff brand of apology.) He'd helped Gray sober up, then he'd given him a pep talk.

He'd refused to explain his own guesses as to what was going on with Juvia, insisting "who knows what goes on in that water witch's head." But he'd also insisted that whatever was going on, it for damn sure wasn't what Gray thought, which was that he'd hurt her too badly for her to love him anymore.

"She's obsessed with you," the man had said, scowling in disgust. "She's always been obsessed with you. She's way too stubborn to let it go that easy. It's annoying."

By six AM, Gajeel Redfox—of all people—had talked Gray into chasing after the love of his life. He'd even used his Iron Magic to create a lockpick which got them into the archive room, where they'd found Mira's records...and Juvia's location.

He'd barely had the time to register the irony of her quest's location before he was gone, shooting Gajeel a gruff "thanks" over his shoulder and running home to pack.

It'd been raining when he finally walked into Amefurashi Village.

He hadn't consciously known where to start looking when he arrived, but his feet—following some combination of muscle memory and the fate he'd fought for so long—had carried him to the place where the word "home" had changed for him: the cabin he and Juvia had shared. Where they'd grown together. Taken care of each other.

Where he'd left her. Hurt her. Even if most of the reason to do so was because he wanted to protect her, he couldn't stop hating himself for that.

She was standing outside the place, drenched and shivering, when he got there. As if sensing his arrival as surely as he'd known where to find her, Juvia had turned to look at Gray with eyes that were glassy above flushed cheeks. She'd wavered on her feet.

As soon as she'd whispered his name, she'd toppled. Gray's bag had landed in a puddle with a splashy thunk. He'd lunged to catch her like his life depended on it.

Shouting her name had earned him no response, but pressing the back of his hand to her forehead had been enough to convince him that she had a seriously high fever.

Strangely, as worried as he'd been about her, he hadn't even thought to bring her back to Wendy or seek a nearer healer. In hindsight, he was sure that deep down, he'd realized it would do no good; she wasn't physically ill, but heartsick, just as he was. He'd felt lower than the mud gathering around his boots.

He'd been surprised to discover that he had to break into their old home, and rapidly deduced that Juvia hadn't been staying at their old cabin even though she'd been standing outside of it, both from that fact and the fact that none of her stuff was there.

As soon as he lay her in the bed which had once been his before becoming theirs, she'd begun shivering. For the first time in his life, Gray cursed that he was an Ice Wizard instead of a Fire Wizard.

He'd run outside, grabbed his bag, then come back in—only to curse again when he unclasped the bag only to discover that all its contents were soaked. Thinking quickly, he'd stripped his wet clothes, then hers. He'd climbed into bed with her.

"'M sorry, Gray-sama..." she'd slurred her sleep. "Juvia's so sorry...Juvia had to...I just had to..."

He'd shushed her, rubbing her arms to try to warm her up. "It's okay, Juvia. I know, my love. It's okay..."

He'd kept holding her and whispering soft comfort to her until she'd finally stopped shivering, at which point his frantic worry had abated enough that he could fully admit to himself how good it felt to have her in his arms, her skin against his. How warm she was. How perfectly she fit against him. How much he missed her. She was right there, as close as another person could ever be to him. Yet with how things had been between them lately and how lost she was to fever, he'd never felt further away.

Apparently, he'd fallen asleep at some point, because when he awoke, it was to the rising sun blazing at him from the center of the cabin window. Ignoring his body's reaction to waking up in the arms of the very naked, beautiful woman he happened to be in love with, Gray had instantly dropped his hand to Juvia's forehead, sighing in relief when it became clear her fever had reduced. She wasn't better, but she was getting there.

Quickly figuring out what needed done, he'd dropped a tender kiss to her warm forehead, murmuring a threat against her sweaty hairline: "You'd better not even think of running away again, crazy woman. We are going to talk when I get back."

Gray had dressed, glanced back, and left. He'd met up with he client—a rich and unfortunately good-looking asshole about Gray's age who was way too disappointed Juvia, herself, wasn't the one who'd shown up. Through gritted teeth, Gray informed the bastard it would be a couple days before he and his partner (he was sure to emphasize those words several times) would be able to begin investigating the dark guild threatening the area, as she'd fallen ill.

It annoyed him to no end that the creep seemed genuinely concerned about this, trying to insert himself, demand to see her, and attempting to coax Gray into revealing her location (Gray couldn't help the pleasure and hope which rose in his chest, when he learned she hadn't told this guy wherever it was she was staying; obviously, she'd had no interest in sharing that information.)

The client had thrown a rich boy tantrum when Gray refused to tell him anything, but ultimately let him go when Gray promised Juvia would be there in a couple days (not bothering to mention that he would absolutely be there, too.)

He'd gone to pick up medicine and food. He'd grabbed all the ingredients he could remember for something hearty, mild, and delicious she used to make him when they lived together, a chicken stew that tasted like something he could remember from childhood. Those ingredients, medicine, ginger tea...anything he could think of that might help her feel better, he purchased, barely noting price.

Juvia had been waiting on the porch wrapped only in a blanket when he returned, flushed with both fever and anger.

They'd both been pissed at each other. While Gray locked horns with Juvia's amorous creep of a client, she had apparently been discovered by the landlord who owned their old cabin and only barely managed to talk him out of his anger, ultimately having to pay double their old monthly rent to keep him from calling the authorities—all while wrapped only in a blanket.

A brief yelling match had ensued. It ended when Juvia began coughing rather violently, Gray dropping his groceries in the mud to run to her. Even as she insisted she was fine, he'd ushered her into the cabin, forcing her to sit before he went back out to grab the food he'd bought.

Her face had gone funny when he began grouchily unloading chicken, rice, broth, veggies, and herbs. When he (somewhat defensively) asked what the hell she was staring at, she'd haltingly asked if he'd bought all of that for her. Exasperated, he'd told her of course he had, she'd had him worried sick.

The groceries had been abandoned when she burst into tears.

It had taken several minutes of heart-wrenching sobs on Juvia's part and coaxing on Gray's for the conversation to actually begin.

During their ugly fight in his apartment, she'd exploded.

Here, in the lonely home they'd once shared, she imploded.

While the groceries thawed and dripped on the kitchen counter, Juvia sobbed the whole, messy, painful truth into his chest. She told him everything. She told him how, deep down, she'd always known she wasn't worthy of having her love reciprocated by him. It had been true from the moment they'd met, when she'd been part of Phantom Lord, but remained true no matter how long she'd been at Fairy Tail. That was how she'd put it: "I always knew I wasn't worthy of Gray-sama's love." Not only because of her past, but because of how annoying she was. How gloomy. How creepy and obnoxious.

Gray hadn't even had time to express his horror at the fact she thought those things before she'd been plowing on, her tears only getting thicker and her words only making his heart sink lower.

She said knowing she didn't deserve his love had turned to knowing she didn't deserve to love him at all, when she'd killed Keyes to free Gray's father from his undead life. But even though "Gray-sama had been wonderful enough to forgive Juvia," she'd continued to hate herself, deep down.

She told him that sharing a life in the cabin they were currently in had, for her, been the sweetest kind of torture. That she'd never been so happy—and never felt more undeserving. For the first time, she told him that she'd only had one lover before Gray, some piece of shit named "Bora" who'd never cared about her or her pleasure. Gray had been nothing like him, attentive, caring, and as invested in her pleasure as he was in his own. At first, feeling so cared for had been as overwhelming as it was amazing, but by the time Gray started to pull away from her for his mission, the overwhelmed feelings had slowly begun to fade, letting her forget everything but the happiness she felt with him.

Juvia told him that the day he abandoned her to infiltrate Avatar, everything which she'd started to believe could feel right began to feel wrong, and everything which had felt wrong began to feel right. She'd never felt she deserved to be loved by Gray the way she loved him. Being left by him had, in a horrible way, made her feel like the world was how it was supposed to be.

But it had also ripped her apart.

It had destroyed any confidence she'd begun to gain in herself.

She told him that she resented being abandoned. Resented not being told about his mission to infiltrate a Dark Guild, not just because of their relationship, but because she had once been in a Dark Guild, and could potentially have helped his and Erza's Mission. She'd not only felt betrayed on a personal level, but disrespected as a Mage with no small amount of skill and experience.

It was a side to the issue which he had, shameflly, never considered.

He was mortified when she'd finally let herself chastise him for this—especially when he'd tried to defend himself by bringing up details of his mission only to be instantly struck down and ripped apart by someone who was, in fact, very obviously more knowledgeable about the inner workings of Dark Guilds than either he or Erza ever had been. Hell, Juvia could probably have run the mission almost as well as Jellal had.

For the first time, he saw just how beneficial it would have been to have her on board, despite Erza urging him not to get her involved. He should've gone against her orders, asked forgiveness instead of permission. Over the course of that one conversation, it was clear that having her on board would have shortened the length of their mission by probably several months.

But worse than the benefits they'd missed out on, in infiltrating Avatar, worse than the fact that she resented him, was her admission that she hated herself for that resentment.

She'd apologized. So many times. Too many times to count. Each apology was another crack in Gray's heart. He'd tried to ask her to stop, but they'd just kept slipping out anyway. It was like she couldn't help it.

She'd told him that over time, as she got to know the other women in Fairy Tail—Lucy, Cana, and Levy—she'd realized just how unworthy she was of the care Gray held for even just his friends. She just hadn't been forced to confront her own lacking sense of self-worth...until he openly reciprocated her feelings.

She said that the second he confessed, part of her felt wrong. Like she'd donned someone else's skin—someone who was worth being loved by Gray. Her guilt, her knowledge that she wasn't worthy of him, her bitterness, her self-hatred...all of it had come rushing to the surface.

She told him that, as unworthy as she'd felt, she'd been too selfish to reject him. Too angry at the thought of him being with someone else. Her own selfishness made her feel even worse than before. She'd been determined to be worthy of him, and so she had sought to pay every ounce of love he gave her three times over. At least.

It hadn't made her feel any better. No matter how hard she tried to be sure to pay him back, every time Gray took her on a date or made love to her, it made her skin crawl, because she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve his love, his affection, or even his attention. He deserved better, and she was nowhere close to deserving him. She never would be.

If there had been even one last, single sliver of a doubt as to how he felt about this woman, it died then and there. Nothing—not his own guilt, being screamed at, or being broken up with—nothing could hurt worse than being made aware of what a hard time she was having. Learning just how badly she'd been dissociating during all their most precious moments. How much pain she was in. How little she thought of herself. How deep her scars ran.

He'd have given anything to take her pain away. He'd have given anything to change it. Right then, he couldn't think of a single thing he wouldn't have done to make her see herself as he saw her: the energetic, caring, fierce Mage he'd come to know. The woman who always eclipsed everything else for just a second, the first time he saw her every day.

He'd wanted to tell her all that, and more. He wanted to apologize. He'd wanted to tell her how badly he missed her after he'd left her here, that this place had been home for him, too. He'd wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, that no day without her smile even felt real, but his voice had been stuck behind a lump of misery and all he'd been able to do, for a very long time, was lay in their bed and hold her while she cried the rest of it out. He wasn't too ashamed to admit he lost a couple tears in her hair, too.

Over the twilight of time it had taken for her sobs to turn hoarse, then to whimpers, then sniffles, guilt, emotional exhaustion, an anguish washed over Gray in their turn.

Until finally, he hardened all of those feelings into resolve.

"I'm really thankful that you're here. For always being beside me..."

Those were the words Gray had said to her before Alvarez, and he'd meant them. For years, Juvia had done nothing but be there for him. Even when he didn't want her there, she stayed right next to him, quietly piecing together his heart and his trust. It killed him that the woman who'd confronted him with her love, made him face down his own weakness, always thought of him, and helped him so much more than he could ever truly thank her for had been hiding so much of her own pain. He wished she would have told him any of this all the times he'd pushed and asked.

But he couldn't blame her for that. Maybe she hadn't opened up to him before then, but her mentions of her days in Phantom and of that shithead ex of hers had driven home, with stark clarity, a realization he wished he'd made a lot sooner: Juvia didn't know how to open up like Gray had tried to demand, because she hadn't grown up somewhere like Fairy Tail.

Unlike Gray and Natsu and the others, she hadn't been taught to bare her pain, hadn't always known there would be someone to listen to her, cry with her, be on her side. While Gray had been fought, teased, and accepted for exactly who he was (more often his whole self than not) Juvia had been abandoned by every single person in her life except Gajeel and those who'd wanted to use her for their own ends. Gray abandoning her had only confirmed what she'd been taught was inevitable.

But the Ice Mage wouldn't linger on that. He wouldn't give any more time to despair.

It was his turn now, he realized. His turn to stay beside her even when it was hard, and do the work. Now, he just had to figure out how. But while he'd been trying to do that, had been gathering his words, Juvia had recovered enough to speak once more.

She'd apologized again. She'd told him that she knew this was too much, that all of this was too much...that she was too much. For the times they'd shared, she thanked him quietly, eyes bright with yet more tears and refusing to meet his as she continued that she'd had to let Gray go because she wanted him to be happy, and she'd finally, finally realized she could never do that for him, not really. Then she'd tried to push him away, and as Gray had tightened his grip, he'd realized he didn't need to figure out what to do, what to say, or how to love her.

She'd been showing him all along.

After a deep breath, the words had come low, and easier than he'd thought. He told her she was right, all of this was a lot...but also that he was so, so happy she'd finally told him what was really going on. He'd been as gentle as possible when he told her he could see how difficult and scary it had been for her to open up about all this and that he was proud of how brave she'd been for doing so, but she'd started crying again anyway, so he'd had to carry on with a shakier, hoarser voice.

He'd apologized. For everything. For not taking her feelings seriously for so long, for not seeing her when she needed to be seen, for leaving her behind and hurting her so badly she'd gotten sick. He hadn't been dismissing her abilities as a Mage so much as he'd been trying to protect her, but that was no excuse. "High-handed and cruel" was a generous way to describe his behavior, and he finally saw that. He'd told her that if he could take it back, he would. But he couldn't. He could only promise to never, ever leave her like that again, and he was more than ready to make that promise. He had been for a long time, since well into the 1oo Years Quest. If she'd only give him another chance, he'd show her.

At this point, Juvia had obviously started to twig that this conversation wasn't going to go how she planned, with Gray accepting she was too burdensome and unworthy for him and leaving her alone like everyone else had left her, because she'd started kicking up a fuss, forcing him to hold her there again.

"Let Juvia go, Gray-sama!" she'd demanded shakily, sounding like she was barely clinging to her determination. But Gray had refused. He refused to let her go like this, not until she'd heard him out.

As brief as the ensuing argument had been, it was also one of the most frustrating conversations Gray had ever taken part in (and he'd fought Natsu on basically every cock-and-bull-ass plan he'd ever come up with.)

He'd tried desperately to insist that while Juvia could be creepy and he did find rain somewhat gloomy, she was not worthless or annoying or obnoxious. He'd tried to tell her that she did make him happy. He'd tried to tell her how he felt about her.

Juvia had not responded well.

A wall had slammed up in her eyes, the same blank one he'd met on that fateful, rainy day so long ago. As she'd kept denying, and he'd kept pushing, their voices had gotten louder. Eventually, Gray had realized it was raining outside the window next to their bed again, and that was the one thing that had forced him to take a step back from his own frustration. Lucky, because if he hadn't, he might have flown off the handle and ruined everything all over again.

Looking down at her, he'd forced himself to cool off and realized he was being unfair; he was asking her to take an entire journey in one leap, to unlearn a lifetime's-worth of lessons about her own worthlessness over the course of a single conversation. No one could do that. It was an unreasonable thing to ask.

And so, when he'd finally gathered his wits and perspective enough, he'd said, "You don't have to agree with me. You don't have to agree with my feelings for you. But you have to believe that they're real...and you have to at least consider my side."

Juvia's eyes had gone wide. As they regained their sparkle, he'd refused to break eye contact. Slowly, the rain had stopped, leaving them in the silent hut.

After what felt like years, she'd shakily whispered, "O-okay."

And Gray had known that they were finally, finally getting somewhere.

Quietly and slowly, with their hands intertwined between their chests and their foreheads pressed together, they'd pieced together a fragile plan. They would stay together and be as they had been, but from now on, they were both going to make a concerted effort to be honest and rebuild trust. Gray started by admitting that missing out on Quests with his team had really started to bum him out, and while this seemed to sadden Juvia at first, she admitted after some thought that in being with Gray, she hadn't been nurturing her own friendships with her friends like Gajeel and Meredy. Lucy had also asked for help training her in Water Magic, and Juvia had declined so far even though she was interested in having someone to teach.

Gray had encouraged all of this...and he'd encouraged her to visit Porlyusica, too, when they got home. The old lady was hardly a Mental Healer, but she'd hopefully be able to help them find someone who was, someone objective and removed from the situation who Juvia could talk to openly. One thing which had sunk in fully for Gray over the course of Juvia's heartrending speech was that it was going to take a lot of time, work, and love to get Juvia to a better place. There was no way the two of them could do it alone.

They'd talked and planned until their voices were hoarse...and then they'd not talked for even longer. Juvia once again dropped the "-sama." She let him come to her. She didn't just surrender herself to him the way she had when they had each other before in their cabin, she'd given him even more—in his arms, she'd bared a small and precious part of herself Gray had never even realized she hid from him.

Over the course of the month they spent in that cabin, he'd cherished everything she gave him more than most men could've in twice the amount of time. How they'd managed to deal with that Dark Guild months and months ahead of schedule, he would never understand, because his head had never been less in the game. Neither of them had been able keep their hands off each other for more than an hour when they were alone together.

Neither had been particularly disappointed when that crotchety old landlord refused to give them back any part of their months' rent. Instead, they'd stayed till June was up breaking the place in thoroughly.

"It's payback for him being a jackass to you!" Gray had once playfully defended against her neck, pinning her against the kitchen counter and grinning as she gigglingly scolded him.

He only prayed no one ever took a UV Lacrima to the inside of that place. They'd go blind. He'd taken her on the couch, over it, against the walls, on the counters and tables, and in more positions than he'd previously known existed in that bed. When they returned home, a bunch of people had pointed out that they both looked like they'd lost weight. Gray didn't doubt it, after all the—

"...seriously, none of you know what it's like, every time we travel...OI, STRIPPER, YOU MAYBE WANNA QUIT EYE-FUCKING YOUR GIRLFRIEND WHEN WE'RE IN PUBLIC, YOU GODDAMN PERVERT?!"

The absolute last voice Gray wanted to hear when he was thinking about such great, intimate things yanked him out of his reflections in the most unpleasant of ways. An expression crossed between a scowl and a grimace consumed his features.

"Gray-sama!?" Juvia spluttered, craning her neck to peer at them over her shoulder with wide eyes. She looked half-scolding, half...affected as her cheeks went rose red.

Gray felt his own face grow hot as he turned to glare furiously at the pink-haired, disgusted-and-disgusting-looking bane of his existence.

"Would you keep your voice down, Dragon Boy?! I was not 'eye-fucking' Juvia!" His cheeks burned hotter as an elderly woman passing by shot him a deeply disapproving look.

"The hell you weren't!" Natsu snapped, drawing even more attention. "I could see all your gross, perverted thoughts right there in those droopy eyes of yours!"

"ARGH! So what?!" Gray just wanted this fight to be over, and figured that sort of admitting to what he'd been doing was the quickest way to make that happen. "Can't a guy even look at his girlfriend without pink-haired, flame-brained losers getting involved?!"

"THE HELL YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

"OH, SO YOU'RE DEAF AS WELL AS BRAINLESS, NOW?!"

"THAT'S IT, I'VE HAD IT! YOU'RE DEAD, YOU ICY BAS—"

"That's enough."

Uncharacteristically subdued and uninvolved though Erza's command was, it was enough to have both Natsu and Gray cringing and sweating in fear almost instantly.

"A-aye!" they squeaked, then sighed in relief as she shot them one last glare and clanked away.

"Ah, it always goes this way." Happy folded his little blue sausage arms over his chest and tsked. "If only Gray had kept his perverted eyes on himself, we wouldn't even be talking about this."

"And just how the heck is one supposed to 'keep their eyes on themselves', huh?" Gray growled up at the floating Exceed.

"By not being you, apparently!" he cackled back, Natsu soon joining him in his obnoxious guffawing.

"Why, you—! Get back here, you little shit!" Gray made a random grab at the little creep only to curse as he missed his tail by about a centimeter.

Meanwhile, Juvia clasped her still-red cheeks with her hands and donned an all-too-familiar, starry-eyed expression. "Juvia does not mind at all if Gray-sama...covets Juvia in public! How Juvia adores Gray-sama's passion!"

Gray flinched as if he'd been whipped in the back. In a second flat, he was blushing again. "O-oi, Juvia—!" he started, scrambling to find a way to get her to calm down before she came onto him in public.

(Again.)

"However," she continued before he figured out how to distract her, turning to look at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "If Gray-sama is going to covet Juvia on a public street, Juvia thinks he should at least wear clothes."

"Wha—?! CRAP!" Gray shouted as soon as he realized he'd stripped down to his boxers. "When did that happen!?"

Juvia wrinkled her nose cutely and giggled while he scrambled for his clothes. When he was finally yanking his jacket on, he shot her a playful glare only for his lips to quirk when she winked and sauntered after Erza.

That little...she'll get it later, he thought with a huff before shoving his hands in his pockets and strolling after her. He was well aware that he was full-on grinning, now, and didn't care in the slightest.

Little interactions like that...those were the fruits of all the hard work they—especially Juvia—had done when they got back from that S-Class mission. Gray had been prepared for it to be grueling and difficult, to fight. "Relationships take work" was a piece of advice he'd heard plenty, since he started asking for advice about how to love Juvia.

But what he'd never expected to find was that, while it was hard sometimes, it was work he was all too willing and capable of doing, because it was for her. For them. And what no one had told him was that, while loving someone meant their pain became yours, it also meant that their triumphs became yours, too.

Some days had been worse than others. Even though she'd been talking to a friend of Porlyusica's and made an impressive effort to spend more times with her friends, there were moments where Gray had felt like Juvia was back at square one. But he'd been there beside her, encouraging her every step of the way while she healed, learned that he wouldn't leave her again, learned that she was worth all of it. And slowly but surely, she'd healed.

That was what no one had told him: that every time she huffed at him to do his own laundry, teased him, sassed him into taking her on a real date, and even turned him down for sex, that he would feel such a huge rush of pride and triumph.

It was true that the road had been hard, but Gray had walked it with Juvia, and that had made every step worth it.

o(O)o

AN: Ah, sorry I don't have the time to edit this now and make it more cohesive! Also that I can't publish my next chapter of Chasing Tails just yet! I definitely, definitely will come back to edit this piece one day and make it better after I've done that. In the meantime, Happy Belated Gruvia Day!

P.S.: Fun Fact! I named this partly after one of my all-time favorite fics from a completely different fandom. The Hard Road by wthtonibelle, a Kacchako fic (from the My Hero Academia fandom) which is written in a similar way and has similar themes, only it's longer and better lol. check it out if you're so inclined!

#fairy tail #gruvia #gruvia fan fiction #gruvia fanfiction #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fan fiction #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser

[bookshelf-dust]

it's the mac n' cheese.

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 2,466

warnings: kissing, swearing, reader is on their period, mentions of ensuing symptoms, allusions to depression and anxiety, reader needs lots of assurance, matt being a teddy bear, fluffy fluffy fluffy

a/n: this is the first fic i've posted here! i am more frequently a wattpad writer, so i am not totally used to this yet! but i present to you a sweet matty fic i wrote forever ago that i hope someone out there will like. please let me know what you think! feedback is greatly appreciated!! side note: i wrote this with a female reader in mind, but i don’t actually use any pronouns, so i believe it will be okay for anyone who has experienced a period! <333

------

You were microwaving macaroni and cheese when the phone rang. The caller ID read Matty. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice was quiet in that way that it got when he was around other people.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be late tonight. The case Foggy and I took on today is taking a lot more work than we anticipated. I’m really sorry. I know you aren’t feeling well and I wanted to be with you.”

“It’s okay, Matty. I understand—” The microwave started beeping, cutting you off.

"What are you making? Is it the mac and cheese?" Matt's tone was almost accusatory. "I know you bought the good kind. You better save me some,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. It made you laugh as you shifted the phone to rest against your cheek and shoulder, enabling you to open the microwave door.

“Yeah, it’s the mac n' cheese. I bought the big ass container anyways to prevent myself from eating all of it. And I bought a small one for you to take to Foggy since he was raving about it when we had it the other night. Tell him I said hi, by the way. And that I’m still pissed he cut his hair.” Matt’s laugh rang through the speaker of your phone, deep and hearty. You heard him take the phone away from his ear to relay your message.

You could hear Foggy when he chuckled and exclaimed, “I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! She’s only mad because she can’t braid it anymore." That bit was clearly not meant for you. “Hi back, by the way! And don’t save Matt any food.”

“You get all that?” Matt again. “Yes, Matthew. I got it," you sighed.

“How are you feeling? I got out the heating pad for you, so I hope you’re using it. And I washed your favorite blanket. And I put batteries in the remote. And—" You stopped him.

“Matty, I’m okay. Well I’m not okay. I’ve been extra emotional today, and by that I mean in an anxious spiral and my thoughts are eating me alive. My back is killing me and I haven’t eaten much. But I am alive, and I tend to count that as an accomplishment. You certainly do.”

Obviously disregarding your comment, he moved on. “Oh, baby.” Matt only called you baby when you were feeling like shit. Or when he was worried. Or when he was being needy. This time it was only two out of the three.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be home as soon as I can be, okay? Hang in there for me. I miss you. And I love you. You know that right? Whatever you’ve been thinking about today, I love you.”

“Matt, don’t rush home because of me. You guys take your time. I’ll be fine. I miss you too. I definitely did not cry this morning because I could smell your cologne on my book cover. I forgot I left it on your dresser. And I love you too. I do. Just do your job, Matty. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Okay, baby. I love you.” There he went again. He’d developed a habit of repeating that when he was worried about you.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” You threw that in there before hanging up, because you knew he liked it when you called him that. You heard his dramatic “ughhh” directed at Foggy when you ended the call. You knew he worried because of how you'd had a tendency to keep your feelings in for so long. He just wanted you to be comfortable with him.

------

It was just past midnight now, and you were still awake, your back profusely aching. You were laying on the couch, in a big shirt and shorts, sprawled out so you could feel the cool leather. You were sweating, so the covers had been tossed off long before you decided you needed to get out of the bed. Just as you were starting to cool off, you heard footsteps outside the door and the jingle of keys. Mr. Murdock had made it home at last.

“Baby?” He’d barely made it through the door and you could tell he’d probably been listening for you since he got in the building. “Couch, Matthew.” You directed him, even if you didn’t have to. “And I’m fine. You don’t have to call me baby.”

He stopped in front of you, pulling up short, placing his hands on his hips. “I thought you liked it when I called you baby.”

“It’s just so generic.” You tossed your hands up for emphasis. “Everyone calls their significant other baby. Doesn’t feel special. But I do like hearing you say it. I just don’t feel like someone that someone else calls baby.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he stopped you. He walked up to you and slid his hands under your back and legs, hoisting you up, and carrying you to the bedroom. “What’s this all about? I’m much to heavy to be carried arou—”

“Y/N, shut up. I’m taking you to bed. We are going to bed. I am going to hold you. And kiss you. And touch you. Because I’ve missed you. And been away much too long. You are going to tell me how you’re feeling.” He plopped you down on the edge of the bed and got down on his knees, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your chest.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled into his hair. “I’m sorry I said I didn’t like being called baby." You suddenly felt very overwhelmed. "I like it when you call me baby. It feels special when you say it. I’ve just always hated when other people use it because it’s the most basic fucking ass pet name in the world.” You felt him chuckle. You’d missed that laugh. And then you started to cry. You never cry. This period was really fucking you up. You guess he heard you, even though you weren't making a sound, and raised his head.

“Oh, sweetheart. I know this one has been rough. And life’s been rough lately. And you missed me. Who wouldn’t?”

You swatted him on the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to kiss me, Mr. Murdock?”

“Why, yes. I suppose so.” And he did. Bringing one hand to the back of your neck, the other resting on your cheek, he kissed you slowly, lovingly. The scruff on his face rubbed against your skin, but you didn’t mind at all. In fact, that feeling was of comfort to you when you were in distress. So simple, yet so reassuring.

He pulled away only to kiss you again. He pressed his lips to yours firmly, as if to say I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Let me be here with you. And you wanted to let him.

“I saved you mac n’ cheese. I didn’t eat much of it. It’s on the top shelf. Right side of the fridge. I can put a label on it if you want.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” His head was raised and focused on you, even though you knew he couldn’t see you. He swiped his thumbs under your eyes, down your cheeks, drying them. Your index finger tapped the edge of his glasses, signaling that he could take them off. Those brown eyes and ever sensual lashes were going to end you one day. “You can do it,” he instructed softly. You gently removed the red lenses from over his eyes, sitting them on the mattress beside you.

“How are you feeling? Just making it down my list," he explained, smirk eating away at the bottom half of his face.

“I told you my physical symptoms earlier.” Your fingers found there way into his hair, messing with it absentmindedly. “Mentally, I’ve been in a depressive spiral. Not amounting to much. Not deserving of you. Couldn’t comprehend why you’d pick me. Almost packed a bag, not that I’d have anywhere to go. Though I suppose Karen’s. I was sitting here all day, thinking about how I don’t matter much. That I am ignored. I don’t know. All those old thoughts coming back when I was starting to get better. I feel like I’m falling again, Matty,” you told him.

“Sweetheart, I need you to hear me when I say that you know a lot of this is hormones. And some of it isn’t. But I want you to know that I am so madly fucking in love with you.”

“And pick you? There are a million reasons why I’d chose you again and again. I’ll spend the rest of my life telling them to you if you want. You are my everything. I can’t believe you would contemplate leaving because you think I, what, deserve better?” A laugh left him, but there wasn’t any humor to it. He was serious. “There’s no one better than you. You were made for me. Your stubborn and sarcastic ass was made for me. ‘N you matter to me. You know that. I know you do. I don’t want you to start thinking that way again. I hear you, and I will tell you all of these things every minute if you like until it sticks. I will pick you up when you fall, my love.” Here he stopped to kiss you again, emphasizing his words.

“Thank you, Matty. And because I love you I’ll pretend like that wasn’t a cheesy spiel, but I liked it anyways.” You kissed his nose--making it scrunch--and his forehead, drawing out that purr you knew was hiding. Then you drew your fingers further into his hair, lightly scraping your nails along his scalp. His weakness. The purr grew. Got him, you thought.

Finally, Matt rose.

“I’m gonna need more of that," he started. "Now how about we get some rest?”

“Yeah,” you responded. He grabbed his glasses off the bed and walked over to his nightstand to set them down. You watched as he reached to loosen and remove his tie. He kicked off his shoes, tossed his socks in the hamper. Next he unclasped his belt and slung it over the one and only chair in the bedroom. When he reached up to start buttoning his shirt, you stopped him.

“Can I do it?” Your voice was a tad weary, worried he might find the gesture odd.

His fingers froze where they hovered above his collar. “Unbutton my shirt? Yeah, sure.” He waltzed over to you and you sat up on your knees at the end of the bed so that you could reach him.

You gently pulled at the shirt from his waist where it was tucked into his dress pants. You began unbuttoning the gray fabric slowly, making your way down his chest, and you could feel the warmth of him under your fingertips. That warmth you had missed all day, except for when you'd been sweating.

You reached the bottom. All out of buttons. He held out his right wrist for you. You'd forgotten about the buttons that lived on the cuffs of his shirts. You took care of that one, and then he held out the left. You wrapped your arms around his back, drawing such a faint hitch in his breathing that you could have imagined it, and placed a kiss on his bare chest. You released a soft hum when you let your cheek rest there, and could feel his slow and quiet laugh. “I could stay here forever, Matty.”

However, you removed your arms from his back, making sure to drag your fingers along his sides like he liked, and lifted them to carefully push the shirt from his shoulders and pull it down, letting him take his arms out of it. He turned away and tossed the shirt in the hamper once he had completely freed himself from it.

“What was that for? I liked it. Just curious,” he inquired, his voice a whisper.

“Wanted to be close to you. Like helping you. Missed you. And you know how fond I am of your chest.” He laughed again then. That throaty chuckle that made you dissolve into a sad little puddle.

He stepped back and went to unbutton his dress pants. You watched him take them off and toss them with his discarded shirt. He was left in nothing but his usual black underwear. He walked back to your perch at the end of the bed and pecked your lips before traveling to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

You settled under the covers, half covered and half not, tangled as you always were and awaited the warmth of him. He plopped down and settled on his back. “C’mere. Since you are so fond of my chest.”

As instructed, you lay your head on his chest, but high enough to still rest under his chin. You stretched a leg out over his, and he tangled it with his. His hand slid under the hem of your shirt to rest on your hip, rubbing over the squish there.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” He asked.

“Only you. And yes, I am very comfortable. And if I had needed something, wouldn’t it have been better to ask before we were in bed?”

“You make a valid point.” He kissed the top of your head, palm still rubbing your hip. His other hand moved to rest under his head. You kissed his chest, and you swear he purred again.

“You’re the lawyer, Mr. Murdock." You started to smile, "Did you just purr? Like a cat?”

His chest shook with laughter. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe I’ll see if I can make you purr again later,” you told him, starting to feel sleepy as a result of all the emotions of the day. You wanted nothing more than to sleep and be close to him. And it was exactly what you were getting.

“I think I'll take you up on that. Sleepy? Your breathing’s changed,” he stated.

“Very. I love you, Matty. Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For loving me. Listening to me. And caring about me.”

“Don’t thank me for that. It’s my favorite thing to do. I love you too, sweetheart. Get some rest, okay?”

“Okay, Matty.” You felt him laugh a little as you said that. You believe as a mixture of the sleep in your voice, but also because he liked it when you called him Matty. He told you that once after you accidentally called for him that way. It was the only way you called for him now.

———

(gif is not mine! credit to owner!)

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #fanfic #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fic #matthew michael murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock imagine #daredevil x you #matt murdock fanfic #comfort fanfic #period comfort #fanfiction #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #savannah’s fics

[rosemaryandarsenic]

Mine

pairing| Gareth Emerson x female reader

readersynopsis| Gareth has an important question to ask you, but you almost spoil it because of a misunderstanding. (Happy ending, DW) Based on Mine by Taylor Swift

warnings|SMUT! 18+ only as always, minors DNI. Also, the reader struggles with symptoms of burnout and overreacting, self-doubt, intense emotions, and insecurity. Parental trauma. Alcohol. Oral sex, daddy kink.

AN: This is not my finest work, honestly I've been feeling shitty so I wrote this for myself lmao. Mental illness sucks, and I don't see it often in fics bc it's depressing so I wanted the reader to struggle a little. I have Bipolar and it makes relationships stressful sometimes, but it doesn't make them impossible. This one is for my fellow mentally ill friends, ily <3 Also, Gareth and the reader are in their early twenties! The reader is in college and waitresses for work. Her roommates are Robin and Vicki! Everyone is happy and nothing unusual exists in this universe anymore.

You’re staring at the worn-down tiles in the classroom, your professor drawling on about the upcoming final you have next week. It’s hard to concentrate, and your anxiety makes you agitated. Between finals and work, you have already been stressed the hell out, on top of both your boyfriend was practically nowhere to be found. You’d called Gareth three times this week, with no answer, which was abnormal. He usually called you every day, especially when you were too busy to be together in person, but this whole week had been radio silence. The two of you had been fine, to your knowledge, except for a small spat a few weeks before. You tried not to think about it, wincing. Because of your parents, even little fights felt ginormous, weighing down on you like a pile of bricks from the quarry. He wouldn’t leave? Right? Your stomach turned, and you tried to quell the fears in your mind. Instead, you pictured the worst possible cases - anxiety fuels delusions splashing across your vision. Gareth never gave you a reason to feel jealous or insecure, but you’d never really gotten over knowing his ex in high school. You’d been there for ground zero, and despite his insistence over the years that their 3-month long relationship meant nothing in comparison to how he felt about you, it clouded your mind. Relationships were something you avoided after your parent's divorce. They were messy, even the best ones. It felt like too much was on the line when it came to trusting people. You chided yourself - you knew better than this. You are safe, you’re loved, and all is well. But the feeling stayed with you all day, growing worse as you still didn’t hear from him. 

Slinging your bag into the passenger side of your car, you sighed heavily and rummaged around for a tape to fill the silence. You needed a distraction, something that wasn’t bussing tables or writing papers. A movie maybe? Your Roommates wouldn’t be home till late tonight, both working the closing shift at the diner. You started the car in frustration, feeling hopeless. Maybe a movie AND alcohol would be better. Your thoughts trailed again as you drive home, feeling genuinely down in the dumps. When it got this bad you usually called Gareth, something about his voice calmed the nervousness in your mind. It hurt worse, feeling like he wasn’t there, but it wouldn’t last forever. He was probably busy, also with work and school, and the band. You perked up, changing direction from your apartment towards Eddie’s. Eddie was one of your oldest friends, and he always seemed to know what to say when you needed to vent. Maybe he’d be home, it was Friday after all. You pulled into the entrance to the trailer park, feeling slightly better at the idea of not being alone when you noticed that another car was parked next to Eddie’s van. Gareths car. 

You groaned, pulling into the spot next to him and parking, questioning your options. Go inside? Leave? They all felt bad, so you opted for the what was hopefully the most sane - go inside. As you neared the trailer, you could hear music coming from Eddie’s window, a small waft of smoke sneaking out his cracked window and trailing upwards to the sky. You knocked rather loudly, and heard the music stop as Eddie’s footsteps sounded inside. 

“Who in gods name-“ he started, as he swung the door open and saw your face. Your expression must have been more obvious than you thought, because his brows immediately furrowed together. 

“Hi sweetheart.” He smiled, tone completely changed. “Cmon in.” 

You smiled at him, trying to shake off your anxiety. 

“Sorry to bug you, Ed’s. Got out of class and was feeling restless.” You say, pushing hair behind your ear. 

“You can never bug me.” He chuckled, looking at the ground like he was thinking too hard. 

“I didn’t realize you and Gareth were hanging out.” You nod towards the cars outside. “I uh, I can leave if you want!”

He looks confused, “We weren’t planning on it,” he looks down again, “Um, he’s actually not here anyways so you’re fine.” 

You feel a jolt in your spine at his words, the anxiety flooding back in. You don’t want to show it on your face but you’re not sure what reaction would be better. 

“Oh. Okay.” Your palms are sweaty. 

“Wh-where is he?” You mumble. 

Eddie looks like he’d like to crawl under the table, his eyes still directed at the ground. He shakes his head, a small smirk on his face. 

You’re absolutely falling off the deep end mentally, your anxious mind going a thousand places at once. You can feel tears burning behind your eyes and will them not to fall. What is it with the men in your life? Why can’t they just say what they’re thinking? 

“Eddie.” Your voice quivers more than you mean it to and he quickly looks up at you, the smirk disappearing. 

“Are you crying?” He looks shocked, and walks over to you with a worried expression. 

“No.” You sniff, “no. Actually yknow, I think I probably should go. Um.” You avoid his reaching toward you and bolt towards the door, trying to keep your composure. This is silly. This is so silly. You wanna go home, just take a shot and go to sleep. Eddie is following after you as you swing the door open and walk directly into the person on the other side of the door. 

Gareth, despite his arms already being full, catches you as you ram into him, nearly pushing the both of you off the front steps. 

“Whoa there,” he says, stopping you as you push past him now, desperately wanting to be in your car and away from this mess. The sound of his voice sends you over the edge and you let out a choked sob. Jesus Christ this is embarrassing. 

“Honey, hey, whoa.” He says, dropping serval bags on the ground as he sees the tears streaming down your face. 

“What the fuck, Munson?” He’s red in the face, grabbing you to him as he looks back at Eddie, who’s just as confused as he is. “What is going on?”

“Wasn’t me man,” Eddie exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Y/n, hey.” Gareth is clinging to you now as you wipe your face, cheeks burning. 

“It’s fine! I’m fine!” You stutter, “Eddie didn’t -“ you gasp, trying to catch your breath, “he didn’t do anything. I’m fine! Okay?! I’m fine!” You push him back, stepping towards your car. “I gotta - I…” you manage to get out before turning and bolting. Absolutely not. This is too much. 

Gareth and Eddie watch, both looking totally lost as you sprint back to your car and nearly eat shit on the muddy ground. 

“What the hell did you do?” Eddie says Gareth. 

He just shakes his head. “I don’t know but I think I gotta go.” He replies, leaning down. “I got it though.” He whispers and hands a small bag to Eddie. 

“Can you hold onto this please?” He asks, and Eddie nods. 

“Go get her man.” Eddie nudges him, looking back towards your car as you drive away. 

Gareth does. 

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

You slam your keys on the counter in your kitchen, tears rolling freely down your cheeks now. Nothing sensible is going through your brain, so you let it out, sliding down onto the floor and letting your head fall into your hands. There will be an explanation but it’s not right now, and you feel terrible. Where had Gareth been? Why was he being so sneaky and quiet? And Eddie, was Eddie in on it? It felt like you were thirteen again, crying on the kitchen floor as your parents screaming sounded through the house. A door bangs as your mom storms out, your dad watching from the front window. 

“Go to your room.” 

“Daddy?”

“Now.”

You bawl harder, the loneliness crawling into your gut, a familiar feeling after all these years. You don’t want to lose Gareth. You can’t bare the thought. 

Trying to compose yourself you gingerly stand, your knees wobbly from the rush of emotions. It didn’t matter, you would make it. You just needed to stop crying. Maybe a shower would help? You stand there, shaking a bit and holding your arms close to yourself. It’s fine. Everything is fine. 

You jump at the sound of knocking on the front door and feel your heart leap a little. Stop hoping, you mumble to yourself, it’s probably just the neighbors wanting to know if someone is dying. You cry louder than you mean to sometimes. Irritated, you swing the door open and feel a rush as you see the dark blond ringlets you know so well. 

Gareth is standing at the door, clearly flustered from rushing to follow you, a concerned look on his face. He hadn’t expected you to answer on the first knock. Silently he reaches out to you and you give in, crawling into his arms and burying your face in his shirt. You both stand like that for a minute, without speaking. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. 

“You don’t need to be.” He whispers back. 

Gently, he pulls away and lifts your face towards him, wiping off excess tears. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, my love?”

The pet name elicits more tears from you and he pulls you back into his arms. 

“Is it me?” He asks, bluntly but softly. “Did I cause this?” 

Your heart aches, and you try to find the words to explain. It feels stupid, how upset you are. 

“I…where were you?” You ask, deciding to start there. 

He tenses and you feel your gut drop again. Here it comes. 

“I was looking for a surprise for you.” He says, turning slightly red. 

“What?” You say, pulling away.

“A surprise,” he holds your eye contact, running a hand through his hair. 

“What kind of surprise takes all week?!” You blurt out, more confused than before. 

He looks stressed, like he’s trying to find a way to tell you without telling you everything. 

“Can we sit?” He asks, gesturing inside. 

You move, letting him inside, and he sits down on the sofa with his legs criss-crossed underneath him. You didn’t sit, so he taps the sofa next to him. 

“Baby, please.” 

You sit down with a huff and raise an eyebrow. This better be good. 

He can see the irritation on your face and groans internally. He’s not gonna let you in on what it is, he’s worked too hard, but he needs to calm you down. 

“Listen I’m not ruining your surprise, but I can tell something’s bothering you.” He starts, wringing his hands together. “I didn’t realize I’ve been so distracted and I’m so sorry, honey.” He leans in and puts a hand on your leg. 

“Why not just answer the phone?” You groan, letting him touch you. It helped, but you were stubborn. 

“The phone?” He asks. 

“I’ve called you three times this week!” You snap. 

He groans, “shit. Jeff forgot to pay the bill. It was disconnected till last night. I thought I left you a message?”

You turn red. “Our answering machine is broken.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m so sorry.” He says again, “I should’ve just come over.” 

Your resolve is starting to crumble, as you lean into him. You missed him. 

“You know I'd never ignore you, right?” He says as he strokes your hair. “I could never forget about my sweet girl.” 

You nod, trying not to cry again. 

“I just…I get scared sometimes.” You let it out. “I don’t want -“

“We aren’t your parents.” He says adamantly. “I won’t let it happen again.” 

The two of you stay cuddled together on the sofa for a while, until you drift off. Gareth chides himself as you sleep in his arms, working through the rest of his plan. He needed to be more careful, it would only take a few more days and he didn’t want you to feel like this. He watched as your chest rose and fell, still stroking your hair. Just a few more days. He hoped his plan would make up for this week. 

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

The next few days progress more normally, your anxiety lifting as you finish most of your finals for the semester. It’s Monday, only one test left this afternoon and then you have no school and two full days off of work. You were in between classes, eating lunch outside as the late spring sun shone through the clouds. Rainy days were your favorite, and today had been no exception, though you appreciated the chance to eat outside. Gareth still seemed jittery, but you brushed it off. You knew now that he was planning something, but you also know better than to push it. He’d get ideas and be stuck on them for weeks sometimes, unable to focus on anything else. Your concerns about his attention being directed elsewhere were no longer plaguing your mind because you knew he’d tell you eventually, so you focused on the tasks at hand. Stretching, you took in the humid air and smiled. Just a few more hours and you’d be curled up on the sofa with your friends and your favorite snacks. The whole summer was ahead of you, with only work to deal with before your senior year of college came around. Sliding off the bench, you pulled your bag to your shoulder and threw away your garbage as you waltzed inside. Just a few more hours. 

While you finished your exams, you had no idea about the commotion happening at Eddie’s. Your roommates, Robin and Vicki, were hauling ass as Eddie followed them around bossily. Gareth had finished his finals that morning and was sweating his ass off trying to stay calm. Dustin and Jeff argued in the kitchen. Steve and Max were supposed to be arranging flowers around the living room but were instead arguing as well.

“It should go here!” Max insisted, pointing at a pile of roses that had been prodded the point of wilting. 

“No way, those are supposed to be over there.” Steve flung back, stabbing himself on a thorn and wincing. 

Lucas sighed, moving the bouquet around for the third time in the last 5 minutes as the two of them continued to argue. 

“I need to leave to get her in like ten minutes, can you just DECIDE.” Gareth pleaded, his cheeks red as a tomato.

“You need to cool down, man.” Dustin said, handing him a bag of frozen peas and earning a glare. 

Wayne walked through the door with boxes of pizza, chuckling at the chaos. 

“Where is the man of the hour?” Eddie called from out front, struggling to fit through the door as he carried in another bouquet of flowers. 

“Don’t crush them again Eddie, I swear to god.” Robin yelled behind him. Vicki and her had been moving flowers all day from the flower shop where Vicki worked, and she was covered in scratches, a bit of mud on her knee. 

Will was leaning on the counter, observing the chaos, and he moved to grab the flowers from Eddie before he suffocated them into a second death. 

“You have the ring?” Eddie asked, sending Gareth into a spiral as he laughed, pulling it out of his pocket. 

“Eddie, stop it.” Nancy swatted him as she came from the bathroom, rolling her eyes. “You’re gonna give him a heart attack.” 

“Man, don’t stress, half the town is here to help.” Jonathan said, following Nancy in and giving Gareth a sympathetic smile. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Gareth gave a half hearted nod, he’d barely made it through his exams this morning because of the anxiety. What if she said no? Even more terrifying, what if she said yes? Y/N was his dream girl, they’d been together for almost five years and he still got butterflies. What if he threw up? What if he passed out? He started to sweat again and pulled the bag of frozen peas to his face. Wayne smiled and patted his back, giving Eddie a solemn look. 

“Everyone out!” Gareth's mom hollered from the doorway, “out.” 

The group finished their tasks and trailed out, moving to their assigned positions as Gareth's mom wandered to him with a smile. 

“Hi,” he mumbled, still holding the frozen peas to his cheek. 

“Hi.” She whispered back, putting an arm around him. “How are we doing?” 

She always talked like this when things were stressful. In his entire life he’d never heard his mom speak of his problems with a “you” instead of a “we”. It was always them together, never him alone. He wanted that for him and y/n. Always together, a team.

He sighed. “Im fucking nervous.” 

“You should be,” she laughed, rubbing circles on his back. “She’s a good girl, it’s been a long time coming.” 

“What if she says no?”

“She won’t.” 

“But-“

“Gareth Emerson, remember who you’re talking about.” She said, smiling again. “I have seen the way she looks at you, since the day she stumbled onto our porch with that bloody lip.” She laughs, and he laughs with her. The day they met, she’d just moved in next door, and had gotten the houses wrong in a panic from falling off her bike. He’d opened the door to a furious girl, hands cradling her mouth and eyes wide as she realized she’d almost walked into the wrong house. 

“Oh my god I’m sorry.” She sputtered, blood dripping out of her mouth. He’d fallen head over heels immediately, and they’d been tied at the hip since. 

“She won’t say no.” His mom whispered again. “Now, let’s get your ass moving, lover boy. Her parents will be here in five.”She poked him, and shoved him out the door. “Time to go get the girl.” She winked. 

Over the moon, Y/N turned her face towards the sky, admiring the clouds forming overhead as she waited for her ride. Gareth would be there any minute and she didn’t want to wait any longer. All day she’d been dreaming of the sound of the rain on top of Eddie’s trailer as they celebrated the end of the school semester and relaxed. The sound of Van Halen blaring from a beat up sedan drew her attention with a grin. Gareth is always so loud, you can hear him coming from a mile away. He parked and she slipped towards the car happily. 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” He smiled, opening the passenger door from the front seat. She slid in and pulled his face in for a kiss, lingering an extra minute to appreciate the softness of his lips against her own. 

“Someone stole my cherry chapstick again.” She laughed, pulling away. Gareth blushed. 

“I keep loosing mine.” He grins. 

The drive to Eddie’s is calm, Gareth breathing intentionally slow to calm himself and smiling as he watched Y/N lean back in her seat. Her eyes were closed, the wind blowing through her hair as a small smile spread across her face. He loved her so much it felt a bit like he could explode. 

“Do you think the boys will let me get away with watching Ferris Buellers Day Off again?” She mumbles. 

He laughes, “not on your life.” 

She giggles and pouts, opening her eyes. 

“It’s a great movie, okay?”

“You just have a crush on Cameron.”

“I do not!”

“Sure, sugar.”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Maybe I just like grumpy boys, is that a crime?” 

“Are you calling me grumpy?” He feigns offense. 

“Absolutely, gare. What’re you gonna do about it?” You retort, grinning and batting your lashes at him. “My grumpy boy.” 

He chuckles, pulling into a spot behind the trailer to park and trying not to give away the excitement that’s buzzing around in his head. 

“Listen,” he says quietly, “before we go in, I want to give you that surprise I’ve been working on.” 

You nod, smiling at him. “Okay! Are you sure you wanna do that now?” 

“It’ll only take a second.” He nods. “Hop out, and then close your eyes. I gotta get it from the trunk.”

You raise your eyebrow but comply, getting out and closing the door. Your brow furrows as you wait, not hearing the sound of the trunk at all, only the breeze around you. 

“Gareth?” You ask. Silence. Slowly you open one eye and nearly jump out of your skin. “Dustin! What the hell are you doing?” He’s in front of you with a huge smile, Gareth nowhere in sight. “What-“

“No questions, m’lady. Follow me please.” Dustin says, gesturing broadly as he leads the way. As they walk towards the trailer, Will and Mike are waiting, also smiling. 

“You guys are creeping me out.” You laugh, “what is happening?”

“No questions!” Max says, as she, Lucas, and El also join the group that’s leading you inside. In front of the trailer, Steve, Vicki, Nancy, Jonathan, Jeff and Grant are all waiting. Each of them holds a single rose, which they hand to you as you walk towards the door. The realization of what’s happening is kicking in as you see the cars out front. Your parents, hopper, Gareth's parents. Everyone is here - which means…which means. 

“Makeup check.” Robin says, stopping her at the door with a huge grin and fussing with your hair. 

“Rob-“ you start to ask.

Robin cuts you off, “listen to me, pretty girl. I know you well enough to know you probably know what’s behind that door, right?” 

You nod. 

“Good. Now get your ass in there before I start crying.”

You nod again, hugging her aggressively as she tries to fix your hair again. 

She opens the trailer door and you can hear guitar, softly playing. You know it’s Eddie but you can’t see him, instead all you see is wall to wall flowers and candles. The inside of the trailer has never looked like this before, or smelled so sweet. Gareth is standing in front of you now, in the center of the room, a sloppy grin on his face. 

“Hi” you whisper shyly, reaching out for him. 

“Hi.” He whispers back, pulling you in. 

“You ready?” He whispers in your ear as he holds you close, and you nod. 

Carefully pulling away from you, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little black box before he shuffles down onto one knee. 

You’re trying incredibly hard not to cry, and shockingly, so is he. You wipe a tear off his cheek with your thumb as he stumbles out a few words before clearing his throat. 

“Will you - will you marry me?” He gets out, eyes watery as they look up at you longingly. 

“YES.” You shriek, toppling into him as he laughs. You hear the guitar squeak as Eddie throws it off and bounds out from the kitchen. 

“SHE SAID YES.” He yells, slamming the door open. “YES!” 

Chaos is erupting around you as everyone floods in, the room filling with your friends and family. You stay wrapped around Gareth as choruses of congratulations and “finally!” surround the both of you. This is the best day ever. 

—- 

Hours later, well into the night, you’re back at your apartment with Gareth. At midnight, Wayne had ushered everyone out, sneaking the both of you out first with a box of pizza and some champagne so you could escape the clean up. You’d barely made it inside the car before Gareth had you smashed up against the door, hungrily attacking your mouth with passion that could only come from being pent up for weeks about the day. You leaned into it, rolling your tongue along his teeth as he moaned into your mouth. He only pulled back when Eddie slapped the passenger window and yelled , “get a room.” 

You flipped him off as Gareth rolled the windows down and started the car. 

He visibly was in a rush as he drove back to your apartment, glancing at you every few minutes with a huge smile on his face. 

“Someone’s happy.” You teased, giggling as he shook his head and laughed at you. 

“I’m marrying the prettiest girl in the world, can you blame me?” 

You blushed, and leaned over, sliding your (now ring-laden) hand across his denim-covered crotch.

“Prettiest girl in the world, huh?” 

He groaned, leaning back to give you room. 

“Don’t tease me, baby.”

“I’m not!” You say innocently, running your hand over his growing erection. 

His face was all red again, eyes locked on the road as you reached for his zipper and slid out of your seat. 

“How could I possibly tease the cutest boy in the world?” You say slowly, nuzzling your face into his stomach as he drives, his cock pressing out of his boxers underneath you. 

He moans again as you slide your hand up his clothed shaft and press kisses to his tip. 

“You’re gonna kill us both,” he whines, one hand flying to your hair as you start to pump him with your hands. 

“So pull over then.” You say, pawing at his boxers until his cock is free. 

He’s panting, cock leaking precum as he pulls off to the side of the road. Your hands are fully wrapped around his length, pumping away, and you lean in and take him in your mouth as he parks.  

You can hear him letting out the most guttural noises as you suck, letting drool slide out of your mouth and onto his legs as he ruts into your mouth. 

“S-so good.” He stutters, pulling your hair away from your face as you bob up and down, your own whining echoing through the car as you feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you run it up the underside of his shaft while looking up at him, eyes begging him to cum on you. It sends him over the edge, as he grunts, cum splattering across your face and the steering wheel. 

You giggle, straightening up. “See, not dead!” 

His cheeks are bright red, eyes locked on you as wipe your face with one finger and pop it into your mouth, savoring the salty taste. 

“Keep doing that and I’m gonna cum again.” He mutters, reaching around you for something to wipe off the rest of your face. Finding nothing, he pulls off his shirt and delicately wipes away the mess from your face, then the car. You plop happily back in the passenger seat, snuggling in as he gives you a confused look. 

“My turn when we get home.” You wink and he grins, starting the car again. 

The best part of giving him head in the car is getting to watch him after, cheeks glowing and hair tussled as the music blares. You also know you’re in for it when you get home. 

As the two of you pull into the apartment complex, you fumble for your keys, not bothering to get your book bag out of the back. Gareth barely lets you out of the car before picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. He’s short, but he’s strong as hell, which comes in handy when you like to be man handled. You walk inside, and he tosses you onto the sofa and slams the door shut behind him. 

“Mine.” He mumbles, not bothering to undress himself before diving between your legs. You’d worn a skirt today, and he thanked Ozzy for the easy access. Ripping your panties off, he slides both hands under your ass and licks at your wet folds, making you cry out. 

He hums into your cunt, lapping away as your hands run through his hair and tug him closer to you. When Gareth eats pussy it’s like the rest of the world stands still. He always starts hungrily, like he’s starving and then get slower, letting you wind up before sending you crashing down again. He angles your hips up with his hands still grabbing onto the flesh of your butt, tongue circling around your clit as you start to beg. 

“Gare-“ you cry out, writhing as he pulls his face away. Your juices cover his chin, and gloss his lips. 

“Yes honey?”

You giggle. “I wanna ride your face.” 

His eyes get wider and he practically throws you off the couch to make room.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he grins, “have a seat, princess.” 

You straddle his face, his hands greedily pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he laps at you again, soliciting another moan. 

You whine, arching your hips onto his face, falling apart as you feel his tongue along your clit again. He slides a finger into and starts pumping as you ride his face into the cushion. 

“P-please daddy.” You moan, grabbing onto the sofa for support as your legs start to shake. He slaps your ass and you start to see white light spiraling across your vision. 

“I’m gonna cum-“ you moan, panting.

He slides in another finger and it sends you over the edge, crying out as your legs tremble. He slides you down onto his chest as you come down from your high, curls plastered to his forehead and the chain around his neck hanging haphazardly. 

“I got to K.” He chuckles, and you smack him lightly. You’re both a mess but you lean in for a kiss anyway. 

“I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you more.” You whisper back. 

With a wink, he says. “I love you most.” 

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson x reader #gareth smut #stranger things #rosemaryandarsenic rants #gareth emerson x y/n

[unnervinglyferal]

Hey Feral, I'm sorry I haven't sent any asks for the past few monthes, my cat recently got euthanized. It was the on Sunday. I knew that she wasn't doing well..she was about 2 when I was born, making her 17 years old, which roughly translated, is about 78 or 79 human years, which is the average lifespan of an American woman, which she technically was, given that she was a female cat in America. She'd spent a while on this earth, and I think my mom knew that she wouldn't be here for much longer. She had kidney disease, and apparently she was showing symptoms of being in the last stage-she started walking funny, and she barely ate. The day before she died, she didn't eat at all. On Sunday, she stopped drinking. I remember thinking, before, that although she was dying, I'd be ready. That I had prepared myself. I knew this, but done part of me couldn't understand why she had to die. Death is what happens to other people, but I forgot that everyone is "other people", including my cat. But to me, she wasn't "other people", she was my cat. Her name was Ariol, and I've had her for my whole life. I remember when I was younger, she would sit on whatever book I was reading so that if pay attention to her instead. I wish I'd never pushed her off, but sometimes I did. I was too wrapped up in my own problems to realize when she started deteriorating. I pushed her away again and again, and that went on for years. She just wanted me to hold her, and I was too focused on unimportant things to care. I thought, then, that surely she could wait. She was my cat, my friend, and so she would be here forever. And then I realized that wasn't true. I looked over one day, and realized she couldn't see me. She had slowly been going blind, just like my other cat. It was only then that I started paying attention-that I remembered she, too, was mortal. I think it might've been too late. I don't think, near the end, that she even recognized me. I had faded away, and then she faded too. She would lie in bed all day, and cry when I started to leave. I don't know how long she did this before I started to notice. Maybe she spent years wondering why I no longer hugged her, treated her dearly, noticed her. If I could go back, I would not have forgotten her for so long. I would have loved her, known her, as I tried to do at the end. And now that cannot be rectified. Sorry for the emotional rant, I feel like a lot of people don't understand why I'm so upset over this.

Signed, engineer anon.

Sorry about your cat. And yeah, regretting shit like that hurts really bad, when there's nothing you can do about it now, other than knowing not to do that next time. Your cat didn't deserve that, but she taught you to not take any cat after her for granted.

[wetcatspellcaster]

hi! i just wanted to say that I absolutely love Pieces and I greatly admire your work and also how you write dialogue? Writing witty and interesting dialogue can be a bit of a struggle for me but you write the banter between Rosalie and Astarion so well, it's truly incredibly delightful.

I had a question about something in chapter 20 of Pieces. Specifically, when Rosalie asks Astarion if he likes her fancy glow in the dark bed. This may be a misinterpretation of her character but I never got the impression, based on your other works with Rosalie, that she was the type to really gravitate towards expensive or lavish things but as Rosalie herself has stated her house is atrociously fancy now.

I was wondering if this was a "i'm an extremely powerful archmage and have the money so, might as well" type thing. OR if she made those choices for herself with the, maybe subconcious, thought of "these are things astarion would have liked/appreciated/wanted." Maybe as a way to unintentionally bridge the gap between the life with astarion that she actually wants and the life that she had no choice but to have.

The way she asks Astarion if he likes it, and her reaction to his response, to me made it feel like these choices for her living space weren't just for her own enjoyment but also because she wanted to create a house Astarion would want to live in and his opinion on it matters to her not just because he's now living there but because Rosalie always wanted him to.

I just reread the chapter with the fancy garden and the maze and thought that Rosalie, subconciously creating a fancy house with the idea of Astarion one day living in it, AND the Ascendant, conciously creating this whole fancy ostentatious garden with the idea of one day seducing Rosalie in it, both as ways to make up for the one thing both of them want but don't, and can't, have would be an interesting parallel.

If i'm completely off-base and Rosalie just bought herself a fuck off fancy wizard tower complete with heated floors and glow in the dark canopy beds just becasue she could and wanted to than that's cool too. She deserves it honestly.

Also this ask is so long I am so sorry. Your work has given me brain worms like nothing else and I am forever and always an english major at heart, if I had the time and drive I'd write you a whole mulit-paged essay in which I analyzed each house in Pieces, their significance in the narrative, and what they tell us about each character. I am sosososooo normal about you, I promise.

hi lovely. never apologise for writing something at length, I'm very touched that you thought this much about the story and that you took the time to send me this message! :) i love a little bit of literary analysis!

As an English major, you know that any and all interpretations and reader responses to a text are valid, so if this is how you want to read these moments, please go ahead and read it this way!!! There are some things that you say that touch upon future storybeats I've already drafted, so when we get to those chapters hopefully you'll feel rewarded

But in response to your question, yes, the house *is* out of character :) there's a reason why, in my two timeskips, one Rosalie ends up with a cute little flat and a vault worth of diamonds she bought for Astarion, and the other in a massive fuck-off wizard's tower that is, as we'll find out in future chapters, fancy as fuck. But the logic behind it at my end was slightly different than yours, although yours isn't exactly wrong and as I say, I think you'll find stuff in future chapters that makes you happy!

For me, I see Rosalie's wealth in this timeline as an extreme symptom of how lonely and unhappy she is. As the fic has established, Rosalie felt the need to isolate herself, and also buried herself in overwork to both fund her research into Astarion's cure and distract herself from the realities of her life. So the more and more unhappy/workaholic/lonely Rosalie gets, the richer she becomes - for in this timeline, she has nothing other than work, and no one else she wants to spend all that money on. And so she has this massive house bc she needs to spend that money she's accumulated on something, and if that makes her look happy or comfortable from the outside then that's good because then she's not burdening anyone - exactly the same way that the Ascendent's mansion looks decadent and debauched from the outside, to compensate for his true feelings as well.

One really interesting thing about drafting Act 3 currently, is how much Rosalie's issues are now coming to the fore because Astarion, unlike all her friends, hasn't seen a gradual decline in her character/mental health and happiness. For him, it is sudden and abrupt: he has the bubbly hero from the game timeline, and then this strange reclusive hermit ten years later who, to him, is clearly unhappy. And the tower and the way she lives is one way that becomes clear to him.

I hope that makes sense! :)

#asks #lovely words from lovely people #wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello Friend! I saw you reply to someone asking about requests, and thought you might be able to help me out! I'm currently a few days out from having a spinal tap (I got a needle jammed into my spine to take fluid, GROSS AND PAINFUL) and as an after effect, I've had a killer headache when not laying down. Apparently this is common, I was expecting a three day max, it has been five and I'm finally finding relief.

Enough about me, more about me: Can you consider talking about how the Bad Batch would comfort their significant other after having a spinal tap/other physically draining (No pun intended) medical procedure?

Oh my goodness, that does sound painful! 😟 I hope you're doing better now! You know these boys would just be the best caretakers for their partners during a time like this.

Hunter: Is perhaps even more miserable than you. He can't stand to see you in such discomfort, and even worse, he feels so helpless in not knowing what to do to ease your pain. What else can be done outside of medicine, rest, and time? If he knew, you'd best bet he'd do it. But since he does not, he fusses over you with frown lines and an unsettled feeling in his stomach. He'll do best if you give him some instructions, or simply make some room on your bed for him to saddle up and hold you through your recovery.

Wrecker: Maintains a positive attitude, a refreshing break from the concern and fussing you may get from others. He may worry about you in his own way, but ultimately he knows you're strong and will pull through this. So he'll focus on keeping your spirits high instead. Be prepared to be carried around a lot; even if you don't need to, it still makes him feel like he's helping. If laughing is too exhausting/painful for you, he'll tone things down and find other ways to bring you a gentler joy, like playing your favorite movie, or making you a warm meal.

Tech: Has your recovery schedule down to a science. He will dutiful administer your medicines like clockwork, will ensure you are balancing rest and activity, will check in on you frequently to gauge your symptoms. He may feel smothering at times, but it's all with the best intentions. It's the only way he knows how to care, to follow the prescribed recovery process so you don't have to feel this way forever. His calm and seemingly disconnected demeanor may end up being a good thing; you can whine and groan as much as you need and he will remain steady through it all.

Crosshair: Is almost as helpless as Hunter, he just hides it a lot better. You are his anchor in life, so he wants to be your rock in return. He'll push down his feelings of anxiety to take care of whatever need you have with swift and stoic attention. If you need some space or just some time to rest, he'll still be as close as possible in order to keep an eye on you. He notices every grimace of pain, each extra breath you have to take to get through the day. He'll be so relieved once you're back in full health. 

Echo: Is by your side through the entire experience, from the procedure itself to recovery and beyond. He knows all too well what the human body can suffer, how side-effects can cause complications or at least annoyance, and that recovering simply takes so much out of you, both physically and emotionally. Such an unpleasant time should not be experienced alone. He will hold your hand, wait on you hand and foot, reassure you as many times as needed... taking care of you as best as he is able. His devoted and tireless love will never be more apparent than in a time like this.

Everything Tag: @damerondala, @dangerousstrawberrypie, @fallingforthem, @harleyevanstan, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @justanothersadperson93, @misogirl828, @itsagrimm, @error6gendernotfound, @theroguesully, @clonesimp, @techie-bear

+Bad Batch Tag: @marvel-starwars-nerd, @pandora-the-halfling, @darkangel4121, @sobstea, @rintheemolion, @bowtiesandsandshoes, @dionysuskid21, @jesseeka, @hanbetired, @thatmultifandomdumbass, @sarahtanmarvel, @call-me-a-fool, @lackofhonor, @theclonesdeservebetter, @hannahhearttcw, @kaijusplotch, @salaminus, @arctrooper69, @katzs-current-obsession, @rebel-finn, @not-a-big-slay, @writing-positivelyexisting, @nekotaetae, @the-mom-friend-dot-com, @pickle-rick-y, @flowered-bicycles, @lucyysthings

(Join my tag list here)

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone comfort hour #sw x so #medical procedures #health #recovery #hunter #wrecker #tech #crosshair #echo

[kieranduffygirlporn]

gonna talk a bit about what it's been like for me the past couple days. just need to be heard and to type out all my thoughts & feelings about being an introject w/ an introject partner in all this. Hopefully you'll get something out of this

tw for abuse, disordered eating, very BPD happenings, one moment of suicidal ideation

warning: really fucking long and not the most organized thing in the world

I never talked about this here or really anywhere on any other blog but hi. I'm Ida. I'm the second host @/dearfauxpas and our system has seen since our syscovery. .... past this I literally cannot start to describe my identity without talking about Wilbur. I'm sat here struggling to conjure anything.

The reason for this is twofold. I, myself, am an introject, of a bit of art we have at the beginning of our main/art blog that kind of backfired because we never ended up posting much art. The second reason, and the main reason, is that my boyfriend is a cc!Wilbur introject in our system.

When we started dating two years ago, I was at probably one of the lowest points that I have been at as an alter myself. It was a month after I formed and I was still incredibly attached to my source. When I formed and even today, I am still the only alter in the system who has a feminine aligned gender. I changed my name to Ida the night I formed because I named myself after a pet I had in-source. My source (I'm sure you'll be shocked to know) was incredibly mentally ill, and as a result, I formed as a symptom holder for our worsening borderline symptoms. I've also only started talking about this to very close friends within the past couple days but our early relationship/the first six months was tumultuous. I was possessive, obsessive, and paranoid. I also had issues with thoughts of disordered eating and at one point went four days eating about the caloric equivalent of a single bagel per day because I was so depressed.

My system and particularly my love saved me. Over time, my paranoia that he'd leave me subsided, and we become much happier, which is what lead to me becoming the host as our previous host's mental health declined due to many factors.

During the span of our relationship, we played a lot into our introject identities (sootcest lmfao). I became a lot more independent from my source and recovered from a lot of my paranoia. I thought I had simply beaten our BPD traits, and that they were gone forever (with one exception). I thought my disordered eating thoughts had vanished and I was going to spend forever happy with him.

However, foolishly, because of this play we did with our introject identities, I allowed my feelings for my boyfriend to mix with my feelings for the actual person. I tried to maintain a degree of separation between the two, in that I would refrain from doing weird stalker shit and at some points I would be made uncomfortable with the stuff that he shared on stream because I wanted to know very little about him personally. But I let them mix, because hey, why not? We were having fun. There's no reason not to. It's not like he's an awful person, right?

Right?

Part 2: He's an awful person

There were a few points in which, mostly when other CC drama was at a high point, I'd ask myself a couple questions.

1. What would I do if my boyfriend ever left me?

2. What would I do if it came to light that Wilbur was a horrible human being?

The answer to number one was the exception to the thought that all my borderline symptoms had simply vanished, and, rather well-adjustedly, it was "Kill myself."* (*Like in headspace. I never thought it was worth it to kill the whole body over my own issues.)

The answer to number two was "I don't know."

And that is how I've been feeling since Wednesday night. I don't know.

At first, I thought there was no way it could be true. I searched for any information that could tell me that people were wrong. I literally blocked myself from Twitter because I knew going on it would be a form of emotional self-harm, but I obsessively checked tags on discourse, Shelby, and Wilbur, waiting for anyone to post any evidence that it wasn't so. I spent an entire day outside of home feeling completely nauseous any time I wasn't directly talking to someone.

It's hard to articulate exactly what it felt like once I got home to charge my phone and I knew. It was kind of slow. Every new piece of information I learned made it worse and worse until it was just undeniable.

It was like everything I thought I had buried came back with a vengeance. I stopped eating and drinking, my entire brain felt like it short circuited and previously when I had at least been able to focus on other things for short stints, he was all I could think about.

There were times, especially after I thought I had gotten rid of the borderline traits, that I would become hyperfixated on something that was my boyfriend or his source and it would feel like I was going to melt and die. I genuinely cannot be away from him for too long or my mental health will shit the bed. When I was with him, though, and when I filled every part of my senses with only him, his face, his voice, the way he holds me even if the feeling is blunted by the fact that he's just another part of our brain, it was always the happiest I'd ever feel. I can't have that anymore.

I really can't describe the mood swings and the physical pain that I've experienced as a result of this without feeling like people will think I am exaggerating. Like. psychology wasn't lying that borderline personality traits can really borderline. It feels like I'm losing half of what made me myself. I felt while crying over this multiple times that without him I'd die and that I need him to live. For two years, my entire identity and reason for existing was him.

I don't know where to go from here. I haven't even talked about how this is affecting my boyfriend. Before I felt like I had a good grasp on what I was going to be doing in the next minutes or hours or even days but now I can't even imagine what ten seconds will be.

My entire brain is constantly screaming for him to come back, but I can't indulge in anything that doesn't support the guy because every time I see his face or hear his voice now my brain screams that he is repulsive.

The worst part is that over the last two years I have become so conditioned to never ever be angry at my boyfriend that I cannot feel any rage over this. In any normal circumstance I'd feel angry that someone had been hurt and their abuser had been allowed to escape the consequences for so long, but I can't. I can only feel like I need him, but I can't have him because he's tainted. I am so disgusted but I can't handle seeing anyone angry at him because I still love him and I still want him to be happy.

I feel really gross knowing that I've dedicated so much of my love to someone so terrible. I know my boyfriend feels like his skin has been tainted and I am struggling now to look at his face and focus on him in headspace because it's now all painted in a negative life. It's so awful because he has always loved being himself and has always felt so connected to his source, even as the time passed.

Part 3: so what's the point

I've spent most of this time feeling completely alone. I don't know anyone personally who could possibly feel the same way that I do.

I guess I just want anyone who reads this, who feels alone like I do, or feels like they're not reacting in the "right" way to understand that it's okay. You aren't alone. No matter how isolated you feel or like your problems are entirely unique to you, there is someone out there who understands. And also there's a very slim chance that you'll ever be more cringe than me.

The grieving process is ugly and it is agonizing. If anyone wants to DM me on this blog or another, to share anything they're thinking, like really anything at all there's a lot I didn't cover on this post, I will listen.

And to any introjects, I love you. We can make it through. We have survived so much worse. You don't have to be anybody but yourself. And be careful out there. If you become so mixed up in someone's source like we did, please plan an out. Don't make the same mistake I did and just assume it would all be fine forever. There's a very real chance it doesn't.

#wilbur soot introject #wilbur fictive #wilbur factive #dsmp introject #introject #idk. this is geared more for traumagenic sys but if youre endo thats whatever #judt for any systems having a rough patch because of this

[dxxxth]

The days I spent chronicling my encounters on Tumblr for a handful of followers who likely doubted my stories—well, who could blame them? I was a teenage enthusiast of all things paranormal and horror, and that passion has stayed with me to this day. If you catch me out in public, I'll be the one clad entirely in black, regardless of the weather, with a trusty black hoodie and a beanie. My friends have always called me mysterious, and I've navigated much of my life by living day-to-day through various online personas, concealing my true identity. The thought of anyone truly knowing who I am triggers my anxiety, which has often led me to seek refuge indoors.

Much of my adult life has been overshadowed by a persistent battle with depression and anxiety, often seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle to numb the overwhelming symptoms. There have been days when even the simplest tasks felt insurmountable. The origins of my struggles remain elusive—perhaps rooted in childhood trauma or simply the relentless demands of existence, where even financial comfort fails to purchase happiness.

I found myself spending the majority of my time indoors, unsure whether it was my anxiety holding me back or a pervasive sense of not fitting into society's mold. Unusual occurrences became a hallmark of my life, and I devoted countless hours to recounting these eerie experiences, sharing stories that many dismissed as mere campfire tales. But to me, they were undeniably real, etching themselves into the fabric of my existence.

True companions were scarce in my everyday life; most of my connections were forged online, often with an older crowd. I vividly recall the days of playing Call of Duty 4 as a young teenager, enduring jests from grown men about being a middle-aged recluse in my mother's basement. Life seemed simpler back then. However, as I matured, life hurled increasingly complex challenges my way—far beyond the typical burdens of a seventeen-year-old.

It was around seventeen that my skepticism gave way to a sober acknowledgment that something peculiar was unfolding around me. I'd find items missing or my chair mysteriously relocated overnight. I vividly recall overhearing my parents argue about misplaced keys, a blame game I found myself unwittingly embroiled in—until the day the keys were inexplicably found on the floor in my absence. From that day onward, the topic was never broached again, almost as if my parents had finally acknowledged what I had long suspected.

One fateful movie night, I convinced my mother to indulge in a horror film—The Exorcist, if memory serves me right. Mind you, my mother had neither seen the movie nor expressed any inclination toward such films. As we settled in for the frightful experience, the atmosphere grew tense, and I found myself hoping I wouldn't be plagued by nightmares later. Just as the movie began to hit its stride, the screen inexplicably paused. My cousin and I turned in astonishment to see my mother clutching the remote, her first words tinged with alarm: "Do you smell something burning?" The subsequent moments played out like a scene from the movie itself, as we hastily checked the stove burners—already switched off. Despite our inability to detect any odor, the tension in the air was palpable.

Our unease only intensified when, mere minutes later, the movie depicted a character waking at 3 a.m. to the unmistakable scent of something burning. My cousin and I exchanged anxious glances, convinced that my mother had surreptitiously seen the movie before. To our bewilderment, she vehemently denied it, requesting that we switch to a comedy instead. To this day, that incident remains etched in my mother's memory, forever dissuading her from indulging in scary movies.

As I turned eighteen, the burden of my parents' discord and the enigmatic occurrences within our home became too much to bear. I sought refuge with my cousins, abandoning the oppressive atmosphere that had suffused my childhood. While the new environment seemed devoid of any overtly bizarre happenings, my fascination with the unknown persisted.

During this period, I lacked a conventional job but found fulfillment in creating content for YouTube—a burgeoning platform where I shared my stories, gaining a modest yet dedicated audience. The platform's evolution, marked by the integration of advertisements and growing mainstream appeal, facilitated my engagement with a receptive audience hungry for tales of the supernatural.

However, the precarious tranquility of my new living arrangement was shattered one fateful evening when I found myself home alone, recording a video. A persistent knocking reverberated through the house, igniting a growing sense of dread within me. The unsettling cacophony reached a crescendo with what sounded like hurried footsteps ascending the staircase. Gripped by fear, I yanked off my headphones, straining to discern any subsequent sound, only to be met by an ominous silence.

The unsettling episode culminated with the unmistakable sound of an object hitting the floor. I cautiously rose from my seat, heart pounding, and ventured out into the hallway, where my gaze alighted upon an unfamiliar object—a Hobo nickel—resting on the ground. Bewildered and unnerved, I scoured the internet in vain for answers, grappling with the unsettling realization that whatever had haunted my parents' home had now followed me.

Terrified at the prospect of encountering an intruder or confronting an otherworldly presence, I retreated to the safety of my room, wrestling with unanswerable questions. How had the coin materialized in my hallway? What—or who—had ascended the staircase in such haste? Was I in the throes of a shared hallucination, or was a sinister force at play?

As I continue to navigate the enigmatic realm of the paranormal, my experiences have become an indelible part of my identity. I chronicle my encounters not merely as entertainment but as a testament to the inexplicable forces that shape our existence. Through my online endeavors, whether on Tumblr or other platforms, I strive to connect with fellow seekers of the supernatural, offering solace and camaraderie in a world often defined by skepticism.

In retracing the tumultuous trajectory of my life, I've come to view my affinity for the paranormal not merely as a curiosity but as a coping mechanism—an enduring source of strength and resilience. As I embark on this perpetual quest for understanding, I find myself donning the cloak of mystery not to conceal but to illuminate—the ineffable truths that lie just beyond the veil of perception.

#my story #ghost #book blog #alternative

[diredeliverance]

Big undirected Dark Urge thought ramble.

Dark Urge (non-Bhaalist, at least) is one of those things where I think my feelings about the parts (or part) I dislike are often overwhelmingly colored by a desire for it to be a story that I suspect thematically it was never meant to be... I think that's always a kind of good check when you're really into something, "did this disappoint you because of the version you made up in your brain or did it actually fail to achieve its goals." I really don't like the "Bhaalspawn no more" end even if I can appreciate the drama of the scene. It feels cheap and frustrating to actually be magically "cured" of this part of your character that has formed the central struggle of this storyline. But that is supposed to be built on the back of this Persona 3 "you went out and immersed yourself in the world" thing that I do think tracks with how I experienced Kas, and from that perspective there actually isn't anything wrong with this "you've become independent despite being seen as diminished for it, and now that you've been rejected, you are free" thing. It flows well enough with themes of identity formation and the DUrge backstory of having an identity founded on pleasing their father.

But despite that what I may have found most enthralling about DUrge was this possibly unintentional allegory of mental illness, where you're managing intrusive thoughts, voices in your head, terrible internal putdowns, blackouts, and this total lack of certainty that you will ever know yourself the way people around you can known themselves. And when you try to tell other people, they don't believe you. They don't believe you, or their non-dismissal is bundled up in the idea that surely a better doctor will just fix you forever. There must be a cleric who can magic it all away so you aren't Like This anymore. It feels like your companions really just don't want to talk about it when it becomes uncomfortable or actually real. Their reactions become about their own discomfort rather than your need for support, and that can make you see yourself as especially dangerous and the act of confiding as an act of harm. Other NPCs dismiss you as a liar or a joker, or attempt to take advantage of you. I remember Halsin responding to the earnest confession of amnesia by implying that Kasander was intentionally withholding information from him to spite him. Over the course of acts 1 and 2 I slowly went from trying to be honest with everyone to seek support to being more calculated with what I was showing because I knew I couldn't trust the party with my experiences, and that was one of the most viscerally real experiences I've ever had in a game. Like damn discussing symptoms that negatively impact other people can be Exactly like that lmao. Or ones that just sound weird to them. And having Jaheira be the first person to listen and actually believe without making the conversation about what a problem you had become to her was just as emotional as the real experience. And I really, truly have no idea how much of this was meant to track like that and how much was just a well crafted piece of speculative supernatural fantasy.

At any rate, it does make the "and I'll never have urges again" end of DUrge feel like a slap in the face when you're in this Sauce. It was so fulfilling to be able to acknowledge and understand the source of DUrge's symptoms and to have the seeds of a reliable support network with Jaheira and Minsc, and I loved that foundation for moving in a direction of "this is a part of you that can't be wished away and you have to live with without any assurance that it will end, but you'll still be okay and you can still decide what direction your life will take and have people in it who love you." Tragic that it is a fantasy game and the actual narrative resolution when you aren't lost in the sauce actually is "it can be wished away and now you and everyone around you is safe from it forever." I think it's a kind of underwhelming finale no matter what but so much of my personal disappointment did just come from being reminded what game I was actually playing.

#but it did get me diagnosed with multiple mental illnesses because it made me finally open to talking about certain shit in therapy #yay??? on some level it still doesn't feel real #needy girl overdose is my other top game for 'this is painfully real and makes me think a lot but I don't know you know Why it's real' #the spectacle of pop culture madness accidentally (?) brushing up against a lived reality in weirdly authentic ways #so sayeth emi

[ratcandy]

hey i'm talking about spider/pet death in this post and going on a bit of a ramble about it. not going into explicit details but i am talking about it and how i was feeling so. be wary

tl;dr for below is that I'm okay. It just happened very unnaturally, in a way that really sucked to watch and learn further about, and it was all very upsetting.

it's been a little over 24 hours, and I'm doing better now. Well I mean I broke out into cankersores after all the stress but outside of that I'm fine. Hoping to get the stuff together to preserve her so at least I don't lose her entirely

Actually got myself into a research rabbit hole. Because what happened just seemed so unnatural and so sudden it really didn't sit right with me. Honestly it hadn't sit right with me for about a week beforehand, because she'd been acting so strangely I just didn't think it could be normal. But finding anything about it was difficult, so I chalked it up to her losing her grip with old age and just having troubles holding onto stuff in her enclosure.

But with it gradually worsening, and how she passed, it was... No, that was not old age. I'm not going to go into detail because I still get a bit upset about it, but it's... There's just no way that's how it goes. I refuse to believe it's that agonizing. I don't think I could own a spider again if that's how it ended every time.

So after rummaging through google, reddit threads, various forums, and youtube, I figured out the most likely culprit was something called dyskinetic syndrome or DKS. Apparently it's a little understood, uncommon series of symptoms that usually leads to a spider/tarantula's death within a few days. And after finding videos of it (which I do not recommend watching if seeing animals in pain is hard for you; it's very upsetting), yeah, it was exactly how she was behaving. She had every bit of it.

What frustrates me more though is how there's no agreed upon cause. I've been wracking through my brain trying to figure out what I could have done different for her (because of course, my brain jumps to "this is my fault somehow" with anything like this) and the uncertainty about all of it is so. Frustrating. Some sources say insecticides cause it (which leaves me questioning a million different things wondering how in the world she could've got poisoned), others say it's genetic (which makes a bit more sense to me, especially seeing another story that very was similar to mine in a few other aspects), but it's like. "We don't know!!" and I'm like what do yoU MEAN you DON'T KNOW.

I'm half tempted to reach out to the spider biologist at my uni just to ask him what he knows. Because this is going to drive me crazy. Watching it happen was devastating enough, especially seeing as most spider/T owners will euthanize before its gets too bad because it's just so awful (and now I feel bad for letting it drag out as it had), and now i'm left here triply unsatisfied because I don't even know what caused it.

I can theorize forever (and I probably will) but I'll never know for sure. And it's like. What the hell, man. She deserved so much better than to go out like that

Maybe I'm way too passionate and emotional about a little jumping spider. But girl after like 3 nights straight of constantly supervising her and doing whatever I could think of to make life easier for her, and then her going out the way she had, it was like. Getting slapped in the face out of nowhere when you thought you had at least a month or two left.

Good lird. What a first experience

#I don't think this will deter me in the future from keeping spiders. since now I know what it is and how to spot it #but I think it'll be a while before i try again. because good god #it's really not fun to watch that. it's really not #honestly her going out like that is probably why i got so emotional about it. because it's... It's just so /bad/ when it's DKS. It's SO bad #and I had never even heard of it before this was my first time with a spider. I tried to rationalize that she was just getting old and havi #old lady troubles but it was so bad. it got so bad and so much worse every day and watching it happen was awful #i don't want to put graphic descriptions out here about it because it's just... not happy. at all. but know that I really wish #it did not happen this way #she deserved so much better man. #clamtalk #pet death #ask to tag

[lunaprincipessa]

ENTRY THIRTY-SIX

Struggling a lot lately with the thought and feeling of being broken. What exactly is it though? I can feel it through and through but putting into words is something else. I looked up a random definition. It said:

"People who feel emotionally broken have low self-esteem and tend to be unhappy. You may feel hopelessness or in despair. Perhaps you feel inadequate or unworthy of love. Of course, none of these things are true, but they are common for people who believe they are broken."

That's pretty much how I would describe what I'm going through. I don't have a healthy self-image and any joy I come across in life is often overshadowed by fear and sadness. There is disparity and hopelessness because... what if it's too late? I feel inadequate in a lot of aspects in life and yes, I feel unworthy of love most of the time despite how badly I wish and long for it. As far as the definition goes, is that it? I looked up another definition. It said:

"The terminology of "broken soul" may refer to someone experiencing mental or emotional instability due to their life experiences or past trauma. Signs of a "broken soul" include someone who wants to be alone, has low self-esteem or self-worth, and may feel unworthy of being loved."

Ok, so there's a little more detail, and one that I also resonate with. On a more philosophical side, I believe the flesh can be broken but not the soul. That's a whole other entry though. Continuing on... I admit to, and acknowledge my mental and emotional instability due to life experience and trauma. About 80% of my life so far has been rotten between physical abuse, rape, getting stolen from, being cheated on, an immense amount of loss (both loved ones and sentimental items), betrayal, working hard since the age of 14 yet having nothing to show for it, and circumstances beyond my control robbing me of much needed life-changing opportunities. That's just to name a few.

Life has not been easy for me, amongst millions of others that have experienced the same thing. True, no one said life would be fair, but no one warned us about how severely it can beat you down, doesn't matter if you're a good person. In fact, being a good person only guarantees you'll suffer more than the average. I do want to be alone but that's because of trust issues. I want a significant other, I want friends, I want that sense of community more than anything else but I've been hurt so damn much, I don't even know if I can trust it when it does come around. It's a very lonely and exhausting thing to go through. Again with the self-esteem and self-worth, to which I have none.

I feel as though middle age and being a single mother has caused me to lose value as a human being. American society certainly doesn't help with its hatred against single mothers and the passiveness toward the men who abandoned their families. I know I can love and care for someone, but am I even worthy of it in the first place? This is my struggle, the battle I fight with an unsharpened sword and a cracked shield. I was never prepared for what I endured, or the aftermath afterward.

These are the definitions I found searching for just that, "broken person definition," or "what makes a broken person?" What if I changed the key words in the search? How about, "how do I know if I'm broken?" It said:

"Feeling overwhelming sadness, stress, or having altered eating or sleeping patterns are common in people who express feeling broken or after something traumatic had happened. Some people report feeling physical symptoms, such as body aches and digestive issues."

Yes to all unfortunately. The sadness and stress is immobilizing to say the least. Makes me want to give up and lose interest in general. The trauma and the unmedicated ADHD is forever fucking with my eating and sleep patterns. Some days, I can't be bothered with solid food if I forget, if l don't care, or if the lack of self-esteem internally screams insults at me, causing unhealthy weight loss. Our generation didn't have the body positively that younger women have today. The aches, the exhaustion, the stomach issues... all gifts from trauma and a rough fuckin life. Thanks. 😑 As if the experiences themselves weren't enough to go through, here comes life with a handful of salt for the open wounds.

I keep going though. I just pick up the broken pieces and I keep going. I have no idea what the future holds or if there's really any point to anything but I keep going. I have to. We gotta fight for our kids and we gotta outlive our enemies. Because that is the real revenge against anything or anyone that ever tried to hurt us, thriving.

More thoughts later.

#broken #broken soul

[sapphic-space-syren]

okay below the cut is a summary of sorts of the ridiculous quasi-relationship I've been in since the end of last year because I need to put this somewhere (links are to my own Tumblr posts, no nsfw images)

no trigger warnings (except maybe infidelity? not sure on that one) but this is a story about sex

at the end of 2022, I moved back with my parents and got a barista job while I waited to see if I'd got into grad school. at said job, there was another barista who was friendly and always told me I was doing a good job (lonely, insecure me appreciated this very much). nice.

after a few weeks, we exchanged numbers and he started sending me... poetry. which became kinda kinky poetry. which became sexting.

which became 'do you wanna get a room'

which became meeting up to spend a night at a hotel on the edge of town. and then when the deed was done and we were waiting for food delivery, he decided to tell me that he's actually a felon who did jail time for [redacted].

might have appreciated knowing that before I drove to the middle of nowhere to fuck you in secret, but alright.

anyway I found out the next day that I was accepted into grad school and would be moving across the ocean within weeks. before I left, he snuck me into his parents' house in the middle of the night for one more ~night of passion~ (this is insane I genuinely can't believe I went along with this) and met me at a tea shop to give me an admittedly lovely set of farewell gifts.

and he told me he loved me. (we're in February now, 2 months after the texting began)

so then I fly away forever and I think good, we'll gradually drift apart and I won't have to deal with the drama of long distance or being with someone who can't even legally travel to my home country because of a criminal record. also he smokes. in general there are a lot of red flags and this is easiest way for it to just... fall apart on its own.

except it doesn't.

the thing is, I've got used to texting him every day and I'm not very good at making new friends within my grad school cohort. I'm still struggling with bipolar symptoms I can't really talk about with anyone but him because there's no-one else in my life who gets it. (he's bipolar too) The fact is everything kinda sucks, school and moving aren't what I thought they would be, and talking to him is the best part of my day. and he calls himself my boyfriend. fuck.

around May-ish, he asks if I'm still planning on visiting my parents soon because he has.... a friend...... a woman.... who he's mentioned in passing but I've certainly never met or spoken to..... but she's seen photos of me and thinks I'm cute.... and she wants to have a threesome.

well, alright then. I'm like... tentatively into it.

except my symptoms are getting worse, a family member died, I'm not handling school very well, so my visit to my parents is postponed a few months. until it's august and I come in bottom of the class, I can barely function, and we decide it's for the best if I take a medical leave of absence.

and fly back to my parents.

so, I'm back! he's so excited! except it takes 3 fucking weeks for him to see me because he keeps ghosting me. or cancelling. or standing me up. so that feels great. and when we do finally meet up he has to go shopping for shampoo for this woman he mentioned earlier. so that's a bit weird.

we spent another night together (his parents were out of town this time, but I still had to dodge their security cameras) and then I don't see him for another month because he keeps. standing. me. up. every other day I drive somewhere only for him to call and cancel while I'm still in the car, or just not appear at all. no explanation.

he does tell me he takes time off work for a hotel night with our alleged threesome partner, though, because (wait for it) she's his GIRLFRIEND and it's their 3 YEAR ANNIVERSARY.

which he NEVER told me. not when he was flirting with me. not when he was sexting me. not when he was fucking me and not when he told me he was in love with me and wanted to be with me.

now I'm not opposed to polyamory, but it would be nice to be aware I'm practicing it.

anyway.

I've seen him... once in the last month. He gave me jewellery and kissed me and promised he would see me soon and apologised because he had to leave early because his (other?) girlfriend (who I still have not met) needed him.

I have not seen him since. He never calls when he promises, sometimes barely texts, and it drove me absolutely nuts for a bit but I've been trying to just... disengage. I've stopped asking when I can see him, stopped texting first. I'm alone in this town with no friends or social support but I'm starting to think his company is just not worth it.

He promised weeks ago that he would see me this weekend. I haven't asked if he remembers. Stay tuned. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#this is so much longer than I thought it would be #and I didn't even include everything #anyway if anyone has anything to say about this I'm all ears lmao #call me an idiot if you must. I probably deserve it. I know this doesn't reflect well on me either #and if you read it all thank you 🙏🏻 #mine #personal #stupid situationship

[ifidiedinadream]

"reminder that there's no tmi on this blog"

lmao okay. I wanted to send this non-anon but chickened out. nevermind let's go, if you can be off anon talking about this, so can I.

so i'm on-off antidepressants (for doctor reasons and stuff), and I noticed that during the times I'm on my meds, especially when the dose gets higher, The Thoughts TM pretty much more or less disappear, like I don't wake up distracted thinking Thoughts, the daydreaming is still 90% of my day like usual but there's rarely any 18+ thoughts and even if there are, they're on the very sweet and soft side only, and reading explicit fics is... different. Like, it's still fun because it's fanfiction and I enjoy reading fanfiction, especially if there's feelings between the characters to explore, but it's... idk. Tamed down? Like eating a meal you like but it was made differently or with less spices or whatever and you still like it but the sensations you experience are... lower? idk if I'm making sense, it does make sense in my head but putting it in words is difficult.

Anyway, the point I was getting to is that while the meds only mildly help really, I don't want to stop taking them because.. I figured out I actually prefer feeling this way. Hold on, my cat's on my keyboard. first she steals my water from my glass and puts her nose in too deep and sneezes in it so I have to get a new one, now she sabotages my unstructured whatever this is. Anyway, where was I. Ah yes, I really prefer being in this kind of.. ugh I'll just call it vastly lowered sex drive state; because usually, I feel kind of bad or uncomfortable with what I've been thinking/fantasising about, and I KNOW that fantasy =/= what you actually want, but idk. When I've finished daydreaming or whatever you wanna call it, I mostly feel weird and like I've wasted time and also like I should never ever tell anyone about that so... giulia and her anons for the sex ed is maybe a good starting point to getting okay with it? then again, if I were to stay on those meds forever and these effects kept up forever, I wouldn't mind at all.

I know that that's a side effect that bothers many people when they start anti-depressants but yeah. Between all the other side effects I could absolutely do without, this is one I really don't want to let go of again.

Why did I tell you all that? Idk, it's just something I've noticed and that I've been wondering about and you've well established there's no tmi on your blog and maybe someone else has had a similar experience who also wondered about it.

good night ✨

hey jess!! you explained yourself perfectly and it all makes sense, don't worry 😌 this is such an interesting perspective!

for me it's... honestly im pretty bummed that my sexual fantasies aren't doing much for me at the moment (today i did wake up to a new fantasy though so i see it as a good sign, i also started my period today so maybe it's the reason?? who knows), im dealing with heartbreak and i was relying on my fantasies to help me cope but it isn't happening. and im always so damn bored. im not a person who's bored often because of my band obsessions and sexual fantasies about the members but now?? i feel so hollow lol like i always have to actively find something to do when it's not something i usually need to do

i understand how you can experience daydreaming like a waste of time. when i worked it got in the way of my job (not majorly but i struggled) but even then, if i didn't have a fantasy to unwind to in the evening i would go insane. i feel like my daydreaming (sexual in nature, mostly, sometimes i get soft fantasies too but it's mostly when im stressed or anxious) is a major part of my life and im used to living in my head 24/7 so if it was tore away from me what would i do? who would i be?

should i seek help? probably, but this is literally the last of my symptoms i need treated 😂 guess what im trying to say is i struggle to share your point of view because of how im built but i think it's 100% valid and if you find you have more time on your hands right now (because you don't waste it feeling guilty afterwards) then im super happy for you!! thankfully i don't deal with that kind of guilt but i do struggle with feeling like i should be doing something more "adult-like" at almost 28, but at the same time i know it's stupid and people daydream until they die anyway

sorry if it turned into a personal rant 😅 i don't think i could live on soft/vanilla fantasies only because i don't get enough of them for the usual amount of daydreaming i need in order to function but if you feel more comfortable with yourself like this, then amazing!! 💕 on this blog we support whatever fantasies you prefer if it grants you a peaceful inner life and the coping with the real world you need!

#answered #tmi tw

[strangeryetstranger]

posting a poem about onea my ocs.... i love my scrunkly little man so much. not my best one but i thought id toss it up as its been a while since i wrote any poem At All. maybe i'll back-post some of my older ones that i still like (same thing with art perhaps)

maybe one day ill get the energy to explain everything going on with this pathetic man but for now you tumblr denizens get no context im so sorry

Its just like before

Sinking into the floor

No garden abound, I am alone,

Lone,

Lone.

Not from lack of effort,

My best, just a symptom

A predator acts of prey,

At the first sign of fear I run away,

Way,

Way.

What Nana doesn't know:

Maybe its for the best,

Best to pretend than lick wounds premature

Lest they fester in mossless rest,

Rest,

Rest.

And they'll tell you an ideal,

But she'll tell you what is real-

And isn't it cruel

That I'm just the fool?

Strung along by niceties,

Thinking friends would see any difference-

A beast is a beast, and that's forever,

Ever,

Ever.

Turn tail,

Turn tail,

Turn tail.

When you find out,

You'll just turn tail and run

It isn't special of you, nor is it that fun

A minor symptom to my growling plight,

Plight,

Plight.

Now away I will ride

With no strays or delays

No one could ever like me for me,

Me,

Me.

I've never had someone before

(It's okay, it's just nature)

I don't need anyone now

(Prey always hides from predators)

Just me, myself and I

(It's instinctual)

Always in the rye

(Not enough rats here to live forever)

But I'll be making it through

(You'll have to eat something larger)

I am all I need to survive,

'Vive,

'Vive.

(Aren't you already hungry?)

#OC #original poetry #poetry #poetblr #Dr. Willow T. Sullahive #<- thats my boys name (and tag for when i post more about him in the future #funky dragon botanist/geneticist #Protozone #Protozone: Underground #gotta say i do not like how much tumblr spaces lines out but thats just how it be ig #swirling performance