#edit: why the fuck did it paste the body twice fuck you tumblr

[xianglingslesbian]

way of kings, Satsuki’s moving castle (👀), Daiki’s basketball (👀👀), oh no he’s hot, and unstoppable force/immovable object pls

ah hihi! ty for the ask!! <3 this got very long so i am putting it under a cut

the way of kings

this is basically just a knb stormlight au lmaooo. i actually dont have much yet its just a vague outline and the main character placements. i also have to work out a LOT of stuff bc. heralds. i’ll list the placements i have for now!!

kaladin - hyuuga OR aomine i really cannot decide smh. EDIT HOLY SHIT MIDORIMA IS THE PERFECT KALADIN 

adolin - kise bc you cant tell me that ‘“fight me!” adolin said’ isn’t PEAK kise energy

shallan - .......izuki. puns? puns. also yay for shared insecurity complexes and refusal to address their own mental health

dalinar - kasamatsucchi <3 he has the eyebrows and the blue uniform don’t @ me

jasnah - uhh araki, solely because i didn’t wanna change au!jasnah’s gender. otherwise 100% would have been midorima

sadeas - imayoshit :) everyone flip off the manipulative bastard

renarin - kurokooooo!! okay but the idea of a person construed as weak finding their own way in the world is really similar b/w these two

sylphrena - momoi <333 syl rlly do have momoi energy tbh

i do have a couple more placements BUT idk where ur at in the series and it could be a potential spoiler so i’m gonna shut up now. tagging @serenesavagery bc i think she’d like this ily saori

satsuki’s moving castle

ok here’s an AU i actually have shit planned out for (and some chapters written) lmaooo it’s a momoi/riko howl AU!! riko = sophie + momoi = howl is rlly fun to write lol. also aomine is calcifer bc let’s be real that tiny fire demon was basically just demon!aomine. the chapter titles in this one are gold tbh i’m really proud of them -- examples are, “Do YOU Want A Charming Stranger To Sweep You Off Your Feet? [Not Clickbait]” and “Riko Aida Presents - Being Old Sucks, Part 1/? (Also, There's A Demon But That’s Not Important)”.

tiny snippet: 

Riko could feel the stirrings of heat in her cheeks as Satsuki pressed against her, arm laying on her hand. 

“Let me,” she said sweetly. Dazed, Riko did so, moving aside so Satsuki had better access to the food. 

“Hand me a couple of eggs and some more bacon, please,” Satsuki instructed. Riko complied, doing her best to keep her composure. This was the wicked wizard Satsuki, not just any pretty girl - she had to be on her guard. 

Satsuki cooked much the same way Riko did, planting a few doubts in the now-aged girl’s mind. Eggshells in the eggs, blackened bacon… perhaps her cooking really was bad.

Then again, from what she’d seen of Junpei, he did have a tendency to exaggerate.

“no its totally not gay for a girl to cook over your shoulder what do you mean” - aida riko, circa 1920 (approx. when this is set bc it follows the ghibli movie)

daiki’s basketball

yes its an aomine-kuroko roleswap yes i like torturing myself because it comes w/the bonus of inflicting this upon my readers. it’s my first multichapter, and like ewbts it’s also half posted and then i realised how shittily i’d written it so i started rewriting smh. the only redeemable bit about v1 is the summary bc it’s good for my summary standards: 

tetsu had changed. tetsu was no longer his partner. but daiki saw that same spark in kagami, and even if he wasn’t one for sappy romantic stuff like tetsu, maybe this time… maybe this time the light he picked would stay with him.

im not crying you are

a small snippet: 

“Well, you like painting. Maybe paint a basketball on the school wall or something?” Satsuki suggested absently, still looking at the giant chocolate fountain. It couldn’t hurt to go in and try it, right?

“Thanks, Satsuki.” Daiki’s voice had a sudden spark to it, and Satsuki’s eyes shot wide as she realised what she’d said.

“No - Dai, wait! You can’t-” But he’d already cut the call.

Oh, God save Satsuki Momoi.

(yes. he did actually. paint the fucking school wall. god save momoi indeed)

oh no he’s hot

this is an older idea but one i still love tbh! i have to work around the setting bc i wanna set it in not-america 😂 i have a summary written up which describes it well so i will plug it: 

Everything was in place. Zuko would have adopted Izumi by this time tomorrow; would have met the demands of his company; would be a father, the best one that he could. He had to admit he was a little more than excited - it’s not every day that you get to be a father, and especially not to a firecracker like Izumi. Now, if only Izumi’s social worker weren’t this attractive… and if only he weren’t the same man that Zuko had been absolutely, abominably horrible to the previous week.

its a zukka modern AU in which zuko is running his dad’s company after ousting ozai, and the board pressures him to get an heir. ace gay bean zuko decides he’ll adopt instead. also azula/katara subplot with katara being an intern at azula’s hospital (NOT in charge of azula tho bc that can lead to some weird power dynamics). highkey slowburn romance tbh. zukka hate each other for only a bit, but the friendzoning is unreal lmao

immovable object meets unstoppable force

this is a set of legend of korra rewrite oneshots! basically im trying to fix all the colorism, sexism and other issues + give a better rep to korrasami bc lbr we deserved more development. also side character rights <3 

i actually have posted one fic of it here so i suppose this counts as a snippet? its pema/lin hahaha yay for lesbians

--

thank you so much for this ask i just really ran away with it i get excited talking about my projects and wow now i have fuel for daiki’s basketball again so that might just be the one i finish soonest <3 

#knb #atla #lok #ceru writes #answered #wips #edit: why the fuck did it paste the body twice fuck you tumblr #shin #food tw

[withcolebrock]

I Drew That

Corpse Husband x fem!reader

Summary: Corpse finds out that Y/N has a drawing of him as her background

Warnings: swearing :)

Word Count: 1,818

Author’s Note: I’ve spent weeks trying to write this piece :/ I just couldn’t find a way to make it how I wanted it if that makes sense but I tried my best. This idea was very cute because I can totally see this happening lol. Especially with like the whole flirty voice thing Corpse has been doing with like Brentman and like James and stuff haha. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

~~~

Tonight was one of the many nights that she was playing Among Us. It had taken over her life, a flood of success followed her once she had played with Sean and Felix. She had gained over two hundred thousand subscribers on her YouTube channel. It had changed her life for the better, in many ways.

For the last three rounds, it had been strict imposter wins. Felix won two of those. Everyone was shocked when it was him the second time, Felix was getting great at the game. The group then decided to switch lobbies because Felix was throwing a fit about getting imposter too much. It was the usual group of Felix, Sean, Poki, Rae, Sykkuno, Leslie, Toast, Dave, Corpse, and Y/N.

Over the last few months everyone in the group had gotten a lot closer. Especially Corpse and Y/N. After the first time they played together, a lobby Sean had created, they had talked for hours after the first game they played. This had continued almost every time they had played  Most of the time, Corpse would be editing his videos while talking with her. It calmed him as he worked. She would be working on her art or scrolling through Pinterest or Tumblr.

They had even FaceTimed several times, where Corpse revealed his face to her. He made a big deal out of it, saying a whole monologue before he turned the camera to his face. She followed in pursuit being very dramatic as well. Whenever they would talk he would play her his music, waiting to see if she liked it. She loved any song he put out, despite it not being her usual music taste.

One night she was scrolling through Tumblr and found an artist who was drawing Among Us players with their little characters. One particular character made her smile and her heart flutter slightly. It was an amazing drawing of Corpse and his little character sitting on his shoulder. It was an art style she was familiar with, she loved supporting smaller artists. It was the cutest thing she has ever seen. Weirdly, it perfectly described him. She loved it so much, she decided to keep it as her phone Wallpaper.

The round started on Mira, where Y/N was a crewmate again. Throughout the whole night, she still hasn’t gotten imposter. “Dammit,” she groaned at the screen. She stood still at the start of the map, waiting to see if anyone would fake tasks at the start. Everyone ran off, not doing them. She quickly followed.

After a long thirty seconds lights get shut off. She ignores the emergency and continues doing her tasks, she stood by the vending machine when Felix killed her. “It’s fucking Felix again!” she leaned back in her chair groaning. She covered her face with her hands. “He’s gotta stop killing me first,” she shook her head. She tried to hide how annoyed she was.

Her body was called by Poki, she was the only dead one. “Oh my god,” Poki said once the screen popped up.

“Y/N no!” Rae yelled, “You guys, she’s died first the last three rounds,”

“Wait really? Oh Jesus, sorry Y/N,” Sykkuo said, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.

“I’ll protect you next round, Y/N, I promise,” Corpse said. Y/N tried to hide her smile and the heat rushing to her cheeks.

“We’ll avenge you, Y/N!” Sean yelled. Soon after everyone grieved her death they began asking each other where they were. Everyone had a solid alibi making it impossible for them to figure out who did it.

“Guys, guys, Y/N died first the last three rounds right?” Toast started, everyone hummed, “Who was imposter these past few rounds?” he explained. Everyone gasped.

“You really think I would kill her first three rounds in a row?” Felix tried to defend himself as the voting time clock turned red.

“You’ve done it twice already!” Sean yelled, voting Felix. Felix was saved since half of the group skipped. She floated around the map trying to get her tasks done quickly so she could talk to her chat without holding back the rest of the group.

She glanced towards her chat, reading a few questions, she shifted her gaze to the game and thought about the questions. “I’ve been working on a cute little animation for you guys, I might do another art stream with you guys. Only if you guys want it, of course.” she read through a few more questions while answering them, while she waited for the meetings to end.

Once all of her tasks were done, she began to talk about her art and fanart. “Yeah, there’s an artist on Tumblr, they are amazing, they deserve so much more recognition,”  she explained as she showed them her lock screen with the drawing of Corpse; without thinking about her chat being curious as to why it was him. Turning her phone back towards her, her eyes widened as realization dawned on her.

The chat began to flood in with questions, begging Y/N to tell them why she had Corpse’s drawing as her background. She chose to ignore the question and continue talking about her own art and showing fan art. Despite trying to change the subject, she sighed dramatically. “Chat, there’s no reason why Corpse’s character is my background, the artist is just good, stop talking about it,” she giggled as the victory screen popped up on her screen.

“Felix what the fuck!” she unmuted in discord. He began laughing as he began to defend his actions. “No, no it doesn’t matter if I know your liar voice, Felix-” After about five minutes of everyone talking the next round started. She was a crewmate again, “I feel like I’m bugged,” she groaned as she started running around doing her tasks. Corpse’s little black character was following her.

“Looks like I got myself a little body guard,” she smiled as she spoke. They walked passed the medbay room, as Corpse moved his character dramatically. She rolled her eyes as they both walked into the medbay room. She didn’t have medbay, but she sat waiting for Corpse to finish. They continued doing tasks together until a body was called. It was Sean’s.

“Y/N’s cleared I was with her the entire time,” Corpse said confidently into his mic. She said the same about him. Poki was acting a little weird during the call, which made Y/N a little suspicious of her.

~~~

When the lights were shut off Corpse was killed by Poki, and he groaned as his body was killed immediately. Poki called out Y/N right away, saying that she was with Corpse the whole time. Corpse glanced towards his chat, finally able to try and read everything everyone was saying. His eyes lit up as he saw her name flash the screen several times.

One person kept spamming the chat saying, Y/N’s has your Among Us character as her background, he smiled as he read it. He knew exactly what the picture was, “Oh really?” he hummed as he continued reading. Everyone was saying how nervous she got when they kept asking her about it. He pressed his lips together nervously. He decided to drop it for now, but he was curious. He looked back up to the screen and began to listen to what was happening during the meeting.

“...You really think I would spend this whole game marinating Corpse for me to kill him in front of Poki? What about that double kill that happened, there was no way I would’ve done that if I was with him.” Y/N explained, over Poki trying to defend herself.

“I think she’s got it guys,” It was down to Toast, Y/N, Sykkuno, and Poki. Everyone quickly voted for Poki. The Victory screen popped up. “I knew you had it, Y/N,” Corpse said as everyone started shouting into the discord.

After a few minutes of them discussing the round, they decided to switch over to Polius. “Hey, Y/N, can I ask you something?” Corpse asked, the group quickly went quiet.

“Sure,” she giggled.

“My chat keeps saying you have my character as your phone background, is that true?” he asked, teasingly. He smiled widely. The entire group started cheering while teasing Y/N and Corpse.

Her mouth dropped open as she tried to find a way to explain it, “Well, uh,” she cleared her throat, “I do actually, it was great art, what was I supposed to do?” she laughed.

“Oooo, someone has a little crush,” Sean teased, Felix quickly joined. The rest of the group was simply laughing along. Corpse stayed silent while the group was teasing Y/N, and Corpse for that matter.

He pulled up Y/N’s Twitter and began to scroll through her feed to find the perfect drawing. He took the drawing that Y/N did of her own Among Us character. It was a drawing of Y/N holding her little character in her hand. It was his favorite piece of art she has done. Mainly because she drew it while on FaceTime with him. He quickly changed it to his iphone background, he glanced back towards the screen, seeing if the game started. He took a screenshot of it and immediately texted it to Y/N.

“Y/N, look at our messages,” he said simply into his mic. The group slowly stopped talking as they waited for Y/N to open the message.

“Corpse, I’m scared,” she whispered, everyone started laughing.

“Just open the message,” he giggled.

She sighed dramatically while she pulled up the messages with Corpse, seeing the screenshot. Her lips fell into a pout as she saw it. “I drew that,” she mumbled into the mic.

“You did,” he whispered, as he felt heat rise in his cheeks. He loved hearing her voice. “It’s my favorite,” he continued.

“Corpse,” she whined as her eyes began to tear up. She didn’t know why, but her heart felt so full. “You didn’t have to do that,” she mumbled, readjusting herself in her chair. She shifted her gaze towards the contact name, Corpseyyy.

“Of course I did, It was beautiful art,” he muttered while he looked back towards his phone, admiring his new phone background.

“Is this..a possible.. New relationship starting?” Sean whispered dramatically into his mic.

“It sounds like it,” Rae interjected. Corpse rolled his eyes dramatically, but he didn’t oppose the idea; neither did Y/N. Rae quickly started the game, letting the tension ease between everyone. Corpse and Y/N got imposter together.

“Oh my god finally,” Y/N said into the mic as she started faking tasks, “Chat, please stop saying I’m blushing, you aren’t helping,” she giggled as she continued the game. She raised her hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse imagines #corpse x reader #corpse fanfic #e girls are ruining my life #cat girls are ruining my life #miss you! #agoraphobia

[mimibtsghost7]

Fuck you and all your little brain washed rats sending people hate because you cant take responsibility for your actions!! But go on stay silent like you always do, pretend its nothing of your business, keep being a fetishizing racist delulu like you love to be while pretending to be the best blog on tumblr!!!

NOT like anyone will see this but YOU will so LET’S GOOO!!!~~

TW: mental health and more (if you feel like this can trigger you, pls don’t read this, breathe in and out and listen to this HERE and remember I love you), loads of tea and Mimi NOT being a friendly and kind ghost. 

funny enough: 

I never pretended of said I was the best blog. But I guess the fact that you say it might be because you heard it frequently? Thanks for thinking so^^

I sent hate to no one and u r the one sending it to me rn ^^ In my whole 4 year journey on Tumblr I received a lot of love but also worse hate that you can imagine. Yes you are saying now you are receiving hate ... funny how it’s bad when It’s addressed to you but when it’s at me and my dear followers it is not. Still, I never told anyone to go hate on you. You were the idiot that tagged my old blog and as soon as my blog was gone pple searched me and found out you were the reason behind this. But as you keep hating on me. Let me tell you I am kind but don’t mistake that for me being a coward.

I am not into insulting others and I don’t care much if you insult me. BUT don’t YOU DARE touch my dear followers. Insulting ain’t hard. Let me try: The only rat here is you hiding in your hole as an anon. I went and compared your writing with this ask and previous hate asks. And it was you~ Good for you~ the sewers smell just like your filthy mouth spilling sh*t left and right. So on brand. However, I know who you are @hobisbeautifulass Hi ^^

Me racist? HAHAHAHAH you truly know NOTHING about me nor my ex-blog’s message. It was a place when you were welcomed no matter your skin color, religion, gender ... proof? well it got deleted thanks to you. but ask around this time and search for who reblogged my posts as they were always the top of the tags (even if I don’t trust how bad you are at research). I supported the BLM movement and still do and will always do but I did so veeery early without anyone telling me. Not for the notes but because of my humanity. I wished my dear followers’ happy holidays no matter their religions. And never cared about those things. Why judge someone on something based on religion or how they were born. As for the LGBTQ+ community, I was always and will always be there for love being love. I talked about mental health and opened venting nights. I helped left and right and when I was receiving hate because of people like you spitting lies about me. What did I do? Did I go online and called people bad? No. I looked back at myself and asked myself if I did anything wrong. I tried to educate myself and apologized sincerely when I had to. I read books and watched documentaries to learn how to become a better human. AND never repeated a mistake twice. You tend to forget that our cultures are different and sometimes you grow up to see some things as normal when they are not. This is not an excuse tho, so I always believed that I was lacking and if someone had something to say against me, there is a chance they are right and just in case I should reflect on myself. But for your case it was pure nonsense. ME? a stalker? how can I stalk when I have social anxiety and at that time couldn’t even leave my room? I am even afraid of taking public transportations and just the other days I was crying from joy when I took a taxi alone. they said I was in Japan stalking Jimin and Jungkook and took a pic when I was NEVER EVER was on that land. You put me on the same list as people who bought info about BTS’ flights to be on the same plane as them? I was stalked before and let me tell you it ain’t cute and fun. I am even scared of the idea of being followed. that’s why I never shared openly my age, country, or anything about me on my blog. that’s why I have no personal social media to this day and that’s why making my ex-blog was some sort of miracle in my life. 

Silent? yes I was silent when I received hate and didn’t even vent to my dear followers or pointed fingers. Why? because I thought as my day was hell I shouldn’t make anyone’s day worse. I was worried about my dear followers with mental illnesses being triggered. I tried to take my life so many times I lost count but I still came here and smiled. It was my safe place and you took it away. Yet, I should pity you? You hated on me first for no reason and you know it deep inside but right now you are trying to convince yourself that you are the angel and feel no guilt. Compared to you. I pointed fingers at no one and didn’t name you when my blog was gone. Why? because compared to you, I thought you will not be able to manage the hate and what was done .. I didn’t want you to suffer the same way I did when you are the one who made me suffer the most the past couple of days. But the kind Mimi is someone you will never remember because you dared touch the friends I love and calling them names. I don’t mind people insulting me but don’t you dare touch my people. I know myself best. My dear friends/followers know me best. I thought ... I could leave without this mess but you keep barking in my ask box and it’s annoying. I left this backup account just to talk to my friends and yet you are here to ruin things again? I should stop being kind to the ones who deserve non of it. I ignored you when I had so many followers and you went silent too because you were scared of me. But as soon as I lost my blog because of you, you went, edited and then reblogged that stalker post. How can I be a stalker? do you even know the definition of a stalker? do you even know shame? well .. I don’t think so.. you said it yourself. You are NOT ashamed (and you reblogged that so many time lol). 

Death threats? this is no competition but thanks to people like you I have been there and wish no one to be there not even you. The only difference is that you almost killed me for real. You were not the sole reason? Great job walking away from you beloved word: RESPONSIBILITY. And I didn’t get just anon hate, I got literal tagging by people like you, DMs, and people pointing guns at me. That’s why I didn’t mention you. I was worried about the one who took away what I worked for for 4 YEARS. I was more sad and concerned about the ARMY fandom here. Do you know how many rely on my updates? do you know how many people said I helped them? do you know any of that? do you think 200k people were “rats”? Do you think if I did and say wrong thing I will not be questioned by those people. I always told my dear followers: “friends, if I do or say anything wrong or share anything that hurts anyone please tell me. I am willing to learn from everyone.” But what did you know? what did you do? Well ..  guess you love notes? As the most notes you ever got and the most attention was when talking about me? 

Love how you talk about fetishing when my blog was what people call “family friendly”. I also like BTS. I love them for their music, talent, personalities and the happiness they give me. I also enjoy BTS’ bond and love their interactions. I posted content of all kinds of interactions JM X JK, JK X V, V X JIN, JIN X SG, SG X JH, JH X RM, RM X JM ... If you are calling this fetishing asian men just because I scream over BTS as a fan and love their bonb. Then aren’t you against the idea of being an ARMY? I was a clear OT7 and you were told that you weren’t right: 

 Then you answered this without even explaining the nonsense about me: 

idk .. I am trying to find sense in your nonsense so .. wait wait let me look at the definition of fetishism first. 

Fetishism /ˈfɛtɪʃɪz(ə)m/ noun: a form of sexual behavior in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, activity, part of the body, etc.

Then .. judging from your URL alone hmmm ... cute. I won’t even talk about the SMUT you write that is full of kinks and fetishism. Well I have no problem with fan fiction but the irony you spit is out of this world.

Also, I made money out of mimibtsghost? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH no lil one. I worked day and night for FREE. At some point when BT21 just came out and there were no products on AMAZON or anywhere but S.Korea, someone reached out to me to offer 20% off or something for my dear followers. When they asked what I wanted I said what about international giveaways for my dear followers. Basically, made gifs, found content, updates, analysis, edits, and so on for free. Again, w-wait .. Aren’t you the one asking for commissions? Well .. It’s not wrong. But again THE irony. 

So, I went to see that post you made about me with “PROOF” and it was just another person who was salty as I got them blocked I can’t even recall who they were but oh well. Their arguments according to YOU and many should be taken as FACTS just because they said them?  You said HERE that your first comeback was MOST:7 that came in just last year (2020) SO what the hell do YOU know about what happened years before you came when all the proof you pointed at where baseless without any backing?

Let’s see this so wise person you used to delete my blog and what I have done ^^

The gifs: There is a story to this. The first week I came to Tumblr, It was my first time on this site and the first time I share anything. I shared some content and my analysis had a lot of notes for a small creator that started just a week ago. But I made a mistake, I found a gif and posted it while crediting the gif maker. At the time I had NO idea it was wrong. I logged off and after 5 hours I log in and there was a WAR for that ONE gif. The big blog had me blocked and her friend was telling me to take it off. As soon as the person told me I did IMMEDIATELY and apologized againa and again and told them to tell the original gif maker to deblock me as I want to apologize directly and that they can block me after that. They did and I apologized but they just kept insulting me. Of course it was MY mistake and that’s why I apologized. But for them. for a mere gif (yes I say a mere gif because I made so many gifs and they were used on all platforms but I never thought it was necessary to hate that much on someone like they did to me). That blog was big and had big blog mutuals. Thanks to that, I became someone you do NOT become mutuals with but block and never reblog content from. Without any big mutuals. Without any shoutouts. Only my love for BTS, my dear followers’ support and my hard work.. My blog, became bigger and FAST (I got 10k in less than 6 months after I started) and that brought loads of jealousy and thus more rumors. Even if, I apologized and since then made my own gifs. And I made SO many gifsets that I can’t remember how many there were. What I can recall is at some point I made them daily and many times a day.

Ships Jikook? I posted content of ALL the members interactions. I was here at a time where Jikook stans and Taekook stans where always fighting. BUT I posted about both and even made so many posts to encourage loving all the members and all the interactions. I also used the tags solely used for shipping with other big tags to show that BTS’ interactions are all important and their bond is beutiful. That our fandom shouldn’t hate on a member just because they are not part of a ship we like. And wait .. even if I shipped Jikook? I got called ALL those names by someone who ship the members with readers and write sexual scenes? Like, wait ... I am truly confused. Like, write fanfic and do all you want as long as you hurt no one I guess but why am I getting hurt for doing non of it? Like according to you, the person you should be cancelling is yourself?! I am also not into cancel culture like you so hahah whatever.

Posted stalker pics: well wow the story changes each time. Next thing you will hear that I was the one holding a camera for a member in a Vlive lol. Let me teach you about this update thing I was doing. I follow accounts I trust and that’s how we get info circulating fast. I always do reasearch but sometimes mistakes are made. For example when lately people shared pictures of BTS leaving their virtual concerts and schedules. There was a watermark of a news outlet. Normally we trust those but only later we realized that those people stalked BTS. You clearly can’t know it all. But I still didn’t share many pics related to many events (I will not name those as pple can search them even now because some pple never deleted those). And all big accounts shared many pics then deleted later. This happens all the time but it happened like ONCE for me. However, I am called a stalker for that? 

When Jonghyun passed away ... I don’t even wanna recall that night as the memories just ... when that happened I posted about it and send my condolescences. that post had over 10k notes and was at the top the tag. Why did I do that? I was devastated. Yes, many were but I will talk about me rn: I was suicidal the days before that and one of the songs that I listened to when I was broken where by him. I has been in the kpop world since 2006. And learned about his group since their debut with ‘Replay’. I was never a stan but I still knew of many groups and listened to all the songs I liked. I was very sad when he was gone and ANGRY mostly. Why is this angel leaving? Why is someone like me still here? Why did I not leave instead of him? How much did he suffer? And in the midst I posted a post from twitter that stated how agencies usually put down pple with mental illiness and hide it in the industry. Yes, that was important but NOT at that time. I shouldn’t have posted that and I realized after 5 min of doing so that it was WRONG. So I deleted it FAST but it kept being reblogged and I kept getting hate and people telling me: “Go kill yourself”... the sad part is that I almost did as my answer was “true ... why am I still here?” I apologized and logged off then to this day won’t forget crying at 3 AM while walking outside next to my dad. I was outside as I couldn’t breathe anymore and the idea of seeing the walls of my room was hell. I cried and cried and the teary eyes that my father looked at me with are something I am ashamed of to this day. To add one more thing while I am spilling the beans. I hate learning about someone dying. My grandma passed away sometime before that and it was so shocking to me. and some people came and told me when I was mourning her: Go follow that bitch of grandmother of yours. And for what? At that moment I didn’t think I would live to see the next year but I went to therapy and took medecine that was hurting and made me shake all day just to turn somewhat sane. No one knew tho ... I smiled all day and cried all night.. Even on the blog I fought no one of the ones who hated me. I just blocked them but even that was an insult to them?

Again, you said no one should defend me. Yet, you were ready to fight whoever touched anyone around you. What about changing your URL to beautifulassirony

Also THE hypocrisy. If you are sorry then why are you answering an ask of someone isulting someone you want to apologize to? Just make a post wher you apologize or ignore it from the start?

One more thing but surely not the last. You said you were good with research which you are NOT. So, let me show you what an OG detective ARMY can do. But first, as I was scrolling I saw some of your “work” (let’s not even talk about those gifs) and I am just giving my point of view here: I hate how you painted Namjoon as this horny-idiotic-make-dog. Like I get it it’s a fanfic or Namjoon as a dad but ... Namjoon is such a smart man who is very respectful and ofc he is a human with needs like many but what the hell is this way of portraying a character? Also a character is not cool, amazing, and a strong woman just because they curse and belittle their partner. 

Oh well, only you kept reblogging that as it show 36 reblogs when only 33 as still there when I looked and out of those 13 reblogs are yours? (you might have reblogged it more) but again some people might have liked ... people have different taste ... so ... whatever. 

Let’s continue, shall we ^^. You said you were the victim here when I was the one getting robbed right? How can I believe someone who reblogged the post below and was proud calling themselves an abomination or how the Oxford dictionary defines it:  a thing that causes disgust or loathing. For once you weren’t wrong.

What can you expect from someone who has the “I am not like others” kinda mentality while stating relatable things that everyone goes through?

This is getting pretty long. So to sum this up. You are now telling others that hate is NOt ok and that they should be ashamed of themselves when you yourself is not ashamed of hating on me?

I am not the type that sends anon hate. I might ignore some barking but the past days you came and bite me hard. I face the ones I have to face without fear. I know I am not the bad guy here and I don’t care much what you think about me. Even BTS got haters. This says a lot. BUT do NOT dare talk badely of my dear friends/followers. You said you do research well? Start by deleting the post below that was originally by ME from your blog ... oh how meticulous you are. From your baseless receipts to your twisted logic. Indeed people on the internet can say anything and it will be FACTS. You painted me as the devil and painted yourself as this researcher? What’s next you receiving a Phd in ‘pity me’ after your MBA in lies and irony? Whatever~ 

Whaaatever~ Karma will have upcoming talks with you. No need for you to apologize. I never cared about you and you only got attention using me. But I am not here anymore how will you get that blog running now? Are you gonna add me in a fanfic next? No need for you to send me my appearance fee when you do so~ And no need for you to apologize to me just apologize to you conscience if you have any left.  As for me @hobisbeautifulass​ you are just someone I will forget soon anyway~~ 

And because according to what you said HERE when you described the things you hate about people and I thought that was VERY close to how you treated me. Thus, you might really not stand yourself rn.

Do.Not.Worry. BTS are starting the Love Myself campaign again and just in time for you to jump in (you are good at jumping to conclusions about me so I won’t worry about you). I know you don’t like me or my friends but be sure to love yourself at least ^^ 

You are a Hobi stan? Then learn from Hobi to share some sunshine not bring the storm. Have a good day~

#Anonymous #hobisbeautifulass #don't mind the typos as I wrote this in one go #just because I am someone who do not punch back when someone hit me do not mean I will stand nicely when you touch my people #anyway~ bye~ #mimibtsghost

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc x female reader (light nsfw) - Patreon tier reward

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

tw: menstruation is mentioned - just putting this first in case anyone isn't comfortable with that.

This was a really fun tier reward prompt from a patron who wanted a couple of things, namely a big buff orc who was impressed at how much the female reader could lift at the gym, who bench presses her at one point, and who is also amazed that those who lose so much blood once a month and can still be super badass (and horny). It’s been up on my Patreon for almost a week now, so here it is for Tumblr folks.

Wordcount: 1910

Hope you enjoy!

You would remember the first time you saw him in the gym for the rest of your days.

He and two of his mates were crossing from the main staircase of the upper-level gym, making their way over to the weights section, and you had honestly never seen such personifications of perfection in your entire life. The three orcs were all pretty huge, but the one at the front who was laughing the loudest and had the biggest tusks - a double set, no less - was just beyond attractive. Probably every eye in the gym was trained on him in that moment.

Long, shiny, dark hair hung down his back in a thick braid, studded with beads and charms of all kinds and colours, and one or two shorter sections fell forwards into warm, dark brown eyes that glittered as he shared a good-natured joke with his buddies. The second was slightly smaller in stature, and had the most incredible arms you’d probably ever seen, shown off to excellent advantage by the sleeveless muscle shirt he wore. He moved between the other two and he was in a manual wheelchair, and the way his arms looked as he propelled himself forwards was almost enough to make you drop the bar you were currently holding halfway towards another dead-lift, the last in that set. The third strode beside her friends, every bit as muscular and beautiful as they were, with long, red-tipped hair tied back in a ponytail to reveal her thick but pointed orcish ears, decorated with studs and rings.

How you had not seen them here before, you weren’t sure, but you assumed they’d just joined up. They certainly weren’t regulars at this time of day anyway.

Just as the largest of them came round to the weights section, he caught sight of you working out and raised an eyebrow slightly. You could have sworn that his lips silently formed the word ‘damn’ when he saw you dead-lifting what happened to be a P.B. for you, and you honestly did try not to preen. His friend looked up at him and elbowed him in the side as he pushed past, heading towards the benches with the female orc. As they went one way, he decided to head towards the stack of bars against the wall near you, and the female yelled over at him, “Oi, Kal - try not to strain something, yeah?”

He just shook his head in a gently affectionate gesture and grinned before turning to you, seeing that you were still using the weight plates and bars. “You mind if I join you?” he asked politely. The way he was almost meek with his question was at complete odds with his physical appearance, and you didn’t mind his company in the least.

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m almost done.” Then you saw the colossal 50kg dumbbell which the minotaur, who had been using the space before you, had left out, and you grinned playfully at him. “Hey, you think you could help me out?”

Kal froze and turned to look at you, somewhat hopeful, it seemed. His eyes were the colour of chocolate, and they crinkled kindly when he smiled. “Sure,” he said. “What do you need?”

Without breaking the rhythm of your last set of reps, you jutted your chin towards the offending pair of dumbbells and said, “Would you mind moving those out of the way? The last person to use them didn’t put them back and I’m not sure I can lift them…”

He pointedly eyed the weights at the end of the bar that you currently had resting on your shoulders, and then chuckled. “Yeah, sure.” And with an oh-so-easy bicep curl, he picked one up in each hand and set them back on the bottom most rung of the rack near the wall. “Listen, don’t suppose you need someone to spot for you?” he asked.

And it had gone from there to him asking you out on a date, and from a few dates to six months’ worth of bliss. Kalar - Kal to his friends - was a huge barrel of laughs. Unlike many of his kind, he was slow to anger and found almost everything funny, to the point where you spent one evening both doubled over on the sofa laughing so hard that you actually skipped workout the next day, claiming that your abs had had enough of a workout for a week.

People who saw the two of you together - particularly his orcish friends and family - didn’t always get how you two were a couple. Sure, humans and orcs mixed, but it wasn’t until Kal proudly told them what your latest personal best was at the gym that they looked at you in a new light. While it was nice to be accepted, the fact that it came initially from your apparently impressive - for a human - ability to lift weights pissed you off something royal, and when Kal asked you about it, you said, “Would you still feel the same way about me if I couldn’t lift at all?”

The horror that immediately flooded into his warm brown eyes reassured you and he pulled you tight into a hug and stroked your hair, more to calm himself down than to appease you. “Of course I would. I’m sorry…”

With a cheeky grin, you smacked his abs with the back of your hand and said, “I expect you to bench twice what you normally do on Monday to make up for it though…”

Kal, never one to back down from a challenge, accepted that immediately, and, because he was a huge dork, he had his own way of doing things. Leaving you a bit puzzled, he got his friend, Kitrik, to start videoing, and then he unceremoniously handed you a 15kg weight plate and said, “Hold this.”

“Kal, what are you -?” you began before he just scooped you up in his arms and barked, “Hold a plank, babe.”

“Are you fucking shoulder pressing me?” you squawked as he did indeed begin to shoulder press you while you did your best to keep your body in a straight line whilst holding a weight plate to your chest.

He didn’t keep it up for long in case he put a strain on your back, but by the time he’d done a decent number of reps and had lowered you to the ground, everyone in the gym was staring and he was giggling like a five year old. He nuzzled your neck affectionately and said, “I love you.”

That was the first time he’d said it, and he never let an opportunity pass him by without saying it after that.

Just a year into your relationship, you moved in together. It took a while to find a place that suited both of you, but when you did, he declared that this one was perfect, and you had to agree with him, honestly. It had wide open spaces and a gorgeous kitchen, and the view from the bedroom looked out over a quiet section of the river below.

Perhaps a couple of weeks into sharing the same space, you had your first major argument. It was over something small and stupid, and it blew up into a big deal, leaving you fuming and emotional, and him sullen and angry. It didn’t help that you were on your period, and yes, to hell with the stereotypes, you did tend to feel emotions a little more deeply at that time of the month.

Unable to bear the tension between you, you came back into the house after taking a short walk along the canal bank to find him unloading laundry into the washer from the basket. You’d agreed to do it this week, but instead of picking another pointless squabble over it, you just stepped over and silently started helping out. He looked down at you, and as he did, he caught sight of the period blood stains - largely washed out now - on your underwear, and his dark green skin blanched.

“What?” you asked, partly amused and partly a little concerned.

“I… Uh… I don’t have any sisters, so… I didn’t… uh…”

You scowled, following his gaze. “Oh!” you snorted. “Yeah, my tampon leaked. Sucks, but it happens sometimes.”

“That’s… after you have a tampon on?” he asked, clearly horrified. The fabric wasn’t bloody anymore, and the remnants would rinse out easily enough in the wash, so it was more amusing than anything to see his obvious shock.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed cheerily, stuffing them into the washer and grabbing the next few shirts. “It’s no big deal.”

He blinked, but didn’t seem to believe that that could be normal.

“I’m probably going to hit the gym later,” you added, just to see how he’d react. Given that the argument was quickly fading into the distance like a passing storm, you added, “I could use someone to spot for me, if you wanted to come along.”

Kal went still again and tilted his head slightly, making a tiny, choked sound in his throat. The movement of his head made his lovely hair swing forwards over one colossal shoulder. “You’re still going to work out?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Actually, moving around helps a bit,” you said, turning to face him. “Not gonna lie though, some months I do just curl up on the sofa or in a hot bath, but it’s not so bad this time. How is this the first time this has come up?” you added incredulously. You’d been around him on your period before.

Instead of responding, Kal’s eyes widened even more and he looked a bit awestruck.

“Kal?” you asked, stretching up and putting your hand on his cheek and stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “You ok? Is this about the fight? I’m sorry I blew up earlier. I didn’t really mean what I said.”

“It’s not that,” he breathed. “And I didn’t mean it either. No… You’re… You’re amazing.”

That took you a bit by surprise. “What?” you snorted.

Slightly slack jawed, he put his hands on your waist and kissed the top of your head. “I guess I’ve never thought about how much blood you lose once a month. The fact that you still want to work out as well…” he couldn’t quite finish, just shaking his head in awe.

“Is this an orcish thing?” you asked sceptically, leaning back while still letting him keep a hold of your hips. “Like… you know, ‘fighting on despite your terrible battle wounds’…?”

He blinked and laughed softly. “Maybe? I just think you’re really tough. Anyone who goes through that and can still function…”

You rolled your eyes and blurted, “It’s just biology. Come on, let’s go work up and make out.” You bit your lip the instant the slip fell out of your mouth. “I mean… work out and make up.”

Kal - still with his hands on your hips - ran his thumbs slowly over your lower stomach and you couldn’t help the groan that escaped you, your eyes rolling closed.

“You’re worked up already?” he asked breathily.

Licking your lips, you said, “Ok, fine… it’s one of the better side effects of all this very orcish blood and gore… yeah.”

He bit his own lip and his eyes flared bright. Nodding once, he bent to kiss you. “Let’s go work up and make out then,” he said.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

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__

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#orc #orc x reader #male orc x female reader #orc boyfriend #exophilia #menstruation #tw: menstruation #but mostly in passing #/as part of the plot #tier reward #patreon tier reward

[roombagreyjoy]

Prompt - "What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt." And someone from Ragnarok? (Preferably Laurits lmao) there's not enough content for this show tbh

Here you go! This took me way too long to edit (I wrote it in two or three hours, during a manic, sleepless spree at 4AM and it needed a lot of work to be decent enough to be posted)

I am still taking prompts. However, I lost the Prompt List this was taken from because according to Tumblr, it doesn’t exist in my blog anymore! Say hooray for a functioning website! But if you want to, you can still request stuff, freestyle this time! (probably for as long as quarantine lasts; I use these to warm up for my actual writing job, so they’re greatly appreciated)

Oh, and before I forget: IF YOU REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION I WILL RIP YOUR HEAD RIGHT OFF YOUR BODY thank you for understanding :)

-----

Prompt #1: (You can also read it on my AO3 page)

Concerned & upset: “What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt.”

Alternative Title: Magne does a Big Mad and it has Consequences. Laurits is just here to have a good time, to be honest.

Fandom: Ragnarök (Netflix 2020)

Pairings: None

Characters: Laurits Seier & Magne Seier, Ran Jutul (mentioned), Turid Seier (mentioned), Gry Isungset (mentioned), Fjor Jutul (mentioned), Vidar Jutul (mentioned)

Content Warnings: Some swearing, non-explicit violence, poorly executed pop culture references.

Length: 1550 words (even though AO3 says the contrary I swear it’s 1550 I deleted an entire sentence for it to fit perfectly don’t @ me I will stomp you to death with my hooves)

“What the hell were you thinking? You could have been hurt.”

The answer came just a second too late. His brother, as always, was lost deep in his own thoughts, oblivious to the outside world except for those occasions he deemed worthy of his attention. Laurits really, really could not understand this. Magne was opening his mouth to reply already, at a wearing speed if Laurits may say so himself, so he beat his brother to it, robbing him of a chance to explain himself.

“You really have changed since we came to Edda,” he said.

“I told you!” Magne protested. “I-”

“You’ve got stupider.”

“Hey!”

“Hey.”

Magne was silent again, but this time he replied in time to avoid one of his younger brother’s viper-like comments.

“… That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Laurits was being vicious with him today, for some reason. Unfairly so, thought Magne. “Isn’t it, truly, my brother dear?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright.”

“You’re being kind of a dick, you know.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t even hesitate to reply. Not once. Then again, he never did. Magne didn’t know what had got into him, but he knew that the blame was probably on his shoulders. At least from his brother’s perspective.

“Look… I tried explaining it to you, but if you’re going to keep on being an asshole about it and tell me that you don’t believe me… again…”

Laurits stared at him intently, waiting for him to finish the sentence for the first time since they sat down in their beautiful, precious, lavender blue living room. Kitchen? Lounge? The house was way too small to try and categorise every room in it. Not that there were many, anyway.

And it was godawfully horrible. The house, he meant. The floors creaked, the water pressure was practically non-existent, the wind came through the ancient wooden planks in the walls and the floor, through the carpet and the wallpaper, taking hold of him even when he curled up under the blankets, deep in his bones… the neighbourhood was pretty much a ghetto. And Magne still could not get along with his goddamn sentence. Laurits really needed a Valium at that point. Or a couple shots of vodka. And a cigarette.

“So?” He basically beseeched Magne to continue.

“So what?!”

“Well. Carry on.”

Wayward son.

This really wasn’t the time for that. Pay attention. Your brother’s talking. Or. Well. He’s trying to talk.

“You didn’t believe me the first time. And you don’t believe me now either.”

“Magne…”

“You said I couldn’t throw a hammer that far.”

“You wouldn’t survive being run over by a snowplough either. And yet. Here we are.”

“So, you believed that?”

“I never believe anything, Magne. Trust is for fools.”

“So?” This time was his older brother’s turn. Laurits found it funny for some reason. It probably wasn’t funny, but at that point he was on the brink of an anxiety attack, or a fit of laughing hysteria. Which may actually let loose some of the tension he’d been building up for the past few days, anyway, so that might be productive.

“See, this is why we’re different. You. You don’t look. You don’t pay attention. You don’t corroborate anything.” He said.

“And you do.”

“You bet your ass I do.”

“So what? That makes me an idiot?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. I’m not your uh… headmistress.” He smirked at the thought. The memory, more like. Oh, what a glorious day. And everyone was looking. He was nervous, but confident. The anxiety made him feel alive. He couldn’t perform without it. And performing, that he did. He was born for it. The theatrics, the drama of it all… a mischief well made, a perfect execution.

Oh. He was going to be grounded forever.

Oh. It was so worth it.

Although, on second thought, not being on the Jutul’s good graces might present a problem or two in the future. Perhaps he was the idiot.

That was a problem for future him, however.

And, besides, if what Magne had told him was even remotely true, the stunt he pulled in front of the ever-so-charming people from the town of Edda (more like village, ugh) and their lovely headmistress was the least of his concerns.

He didn’t know how much Magne knew. He didn’t know how much he knew himself. He knew some stuff, of course, but it didn’t seem to be enough. All he knew is that the Jutuls knew more than them. Probably more than them combined and multiplied twice. And that was a problem.

Vidar laying unconscious, or probably dead (because Magne was too much of a wuss to check… either that or he really was way more fucked up by the fight than he claimed he was) was also, if he may say so himself, the very definition of a problem.

He could fix it though. He was always fixing his brother’s fuck-ups. His mother’s. He always fixed everyone’s fuck-ups. Fair enough, he caused more problems than the solved. But that didn’t matter.

He was a kid, for crying out loud. Or was he? Had he always been a kid? Was he still? Can you be a kid if you’re stripped of your childhood, with a dead father, a constantly moving, constantly changing housing situation, a detached mother and a brother as thick as a brick? He understood why Magne was the way he was. Sometimes he wondered why he hadn’t ended up that way as well.

“Hm.” He hummed, seeing Magne was not likely to continue the conversation. “So. Thor.”

“Yes. Thor.”

“Yes Thor.”

“That’s… that’s what I said.”

“And Gry also knows.”

“And Gry also knows.”

“How much does she know?”

“As much as you. Maybe less… maybe more. Whatever Fjor has told her.”

A pinch in his stomach. That was going to be a problem.

All he seemed to be getting were problems.

“Because they left together.” Laurits said, recounting what Magne had told him.

“Yeah.”

A thought crossed Laurits’ mind like a lightning bolt. If you’ll excuse the pun. Something to take his mind off the fact that Gry was leaving with Fjor. He really should not be feeling this jealous. He coughed slightly. The thought was gone. Crisis averted. For now.

“And Saxa?” He asked.

“What about her?” Magne stared at him in confusion.

“She was there, singing. And then I gave my speech.”

“So, she couldn’t have seen anything.”

“Neither could Ran. But I’m more worried about Saxa. She’s vicious.”

“You don’t think Ran could be mad about me killing her husband?” Magne. Please. For the love of anything you hold sacred. Don’t yell things like that. These walls are paper thin, for crying out loud.

“What I think doesn’t matter because we don’t know anything. But, as you’ve asked, I think Ran is more rational than her. I don’t think she would do anything to compromise her position with the people in town.”

“She’s already compromised.”

“She’s a-ah.” Laurits let out a small, incredulous chuckle. “Of course she’s already compromised. What did you do, you sick son of a bitch?”

“I may or may not have left a couple of those toxic kegs in front of the police station.”

“I may or may not be surprised that you were actually right about that.”

“You’re not.”

“You’re right: I’m not. This town sucks. But I stand by what I said: you really need to quit the Isoldecologist act.”

Magne did not reply.

“Look. The kegs are irrelevant. Ran is not tied to Jutul industries the way Vidar is. Was. May still be.��� Continued Laurits.

“But the rumour…”

“Fair point. But still, she may not be legally tied to them.”

“People talk…”

“Shit. Most people talk shit. But yes, as I said, you’ve got a point. She has to keep her reputation, after all…” That was an interesting turn of events.

“So, what do we do?”

“We? Why are you including me?”

“Well, I just told you all this. You’re not just going to sit there and do nothing, are you?” Magne frowned.

But he was right. Laurits was tired of doing nothing. He had done nothing long enough. That situation had changed a few hours ago, actually. And he suposed he could not stand idle for any longer.

“Fine. We will think of something once you get rid of those clothes, shower, and mum comes home and we pretend nothing has happened. You smell like a poorly cooked barbeque.”

Magne let out a big, deep sigh. “Okay.”

“… I’m still mad at you, you know.”

“What for?”

“Um. Electrocuting yourself, for starters.”

“That wasn’t me, that was-”

“Thor. Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What if you weren’t, though. What if you were wrong? You could’ve got hurt.”

“You already said that.”

“And you’ll hear it again!” He said, triumphantly raising his fist in the air. Magne, as usual, just stared at him. Laurits let out his breath, defeatedly. He really couldn’t do anything fun in this house, no one understood pop culture references.

“Look,” he said. “Just go shower. Mum will yell at you for a bit. We’ll have dinner. She’ll take her usual spot in front of the TV, sulk for a while, pass out, and then we can talk. I got to make a few calls.”

#this is SHIT i'm sorry i did what i could #mine #my fic #my writing #the gremlin writes fanfiction #ragnarok #ragnarok netflix #laurits seier #prompt challenge #this took me way too long for the length it is but i shall take no responsibility for my actions because i have to go to work now lol

[buckyistired]

Why Bucky Barnes Isn’t Damaged Goods

Tumblr ate the original post, so I’ve edited this to include the rewrite, which can also be found here: 

https://buckythefarmer.tumblr.com/post/184856854062/why-bucky-barnes-isnt-damaged-goods-take-two. 

In less than an hour of screen time over seven films, the Marvel Cinematic Universe gave us a complex, beloved character that walks the line between victim and villain with a murder-strut swagger. Bucky Barnes is as lonesome and dangerous as he is charming and sarcastic. Many fans have fallen in love or seen themselves reflected in Bucky’s trials and triumphs; he’s truly an awesome, multi-faceted character, but unfortunately, fans seem to be of the few who realize this.

Recent comments made by both MCU directors and writers regarding Bucky’s mental state have…bothered me and I thought, well, let’s examine the evidence that Bucky is damaged, shall we?

Obligatory disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional; I have PTSD and use these strategies myself, but nothing I’ve written should preclude you from seeking a professional opinion if you need it. Talking with a therapist about my PTSD helped me get light years ahead in terms of recovery. Whatever path you choose, take care of you.

What is PTSD?

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event — either experiencing it or witnessing it.

Does Bucky Barnes have PTSD?

By definition, Bucky has experienced or witnessed the following traumatic events:

WWII. Bucky served as an active soldier during WWII, in the trenches and on the battlefields. He was a distinguished sniper and a Sergeant, which means he witnessed and contributed to the war effort to an even further degree. Many soldiers had “battle fatigue” or “shell shock” during the war; it is not unlikely that Bucky would have experienced this from WWII alone if he had survived and returned home.

Prisoner of War. Bucky was captured and tortured as a prisoner of war, not once, but twice. He was experimented on in his time in Azzano, before he was captured again by Zola/Hydra.

The Fall. Bucky shouldn’t have survived the fall from the train in the Alps. He watched as Steve tried to save him and failed, and he was cognizant as he fell to his presumed death and as he was then captured.

Disability. As established in flashback scenes, Bucky was conscious when he fell from the train and as he was being pulled through the snow by his captors (who he may have assumed were saviors at that point, double ouch). He woke up to his arm being removed and replaced. This kind of permanent change to his body would be difficult enough to work through in a peaceful recovery environment. We know that Bucky didn’t get that luxury.

Hydra/The Winter Soldier decades. The cryochamber. Being strapped to a table and experimented on. The chair. Having no control over your own mind or body. Being forced to murder; being trapped in a continuous war. This torture lasted for 70 years.

Civil War. Free from Hydra, Bucky is trying to live the good life, keep his head down, and stay out of trouble. Then boom, he’s blamed for a bombing that kills how many people? And he’s right in the middle of Tony and Steve’s fallout? Oh, and he loses his arm, again? And then he willingly goes back into cryofreeze? Ok. That’s like 16 traumatic events in the space of 24-48 hours, also known as Bucky Barnes and the No Good Very Bad Day.

Battle Against Thanos and The Snapture, Part 1. Just as Bucky gets to the point where he’s living the good live and recovering from the trauma that has been pretty much his entire life, Thanos shows up, and Bucky is off to another battlefield. Then, he dies. Sort of. Again. How many times is this now?

Battle Against Thanos and The Snapture, Part 2. Bucky gets unsnapped and has approximately two seconds of “yay!” before he is again fighting on a battlefield for his life and the lives of those he cares about and oh, for the entire world.

A common thread here is that all of these traumatic experiences included a near brush with death or a near constant threat to his person. We don’t even really know the extent of the trauma Bucky endured when he was captured by Hydra. Regardless, I just listed eight different traumatic events that Bucky has experienced or witnessed. I think, yes, it’s safe to say that poor Bucky has PTSD, big-time.

So, is Bucky Barnes damaged?

No. Bucky Barnes is an individual who have survived more than his fair share of traumatic events, and as such, his brain has had to compensate for how he thinks, processes, and responds to stimuli. He does, at one point, suffer from literal brain damage from the chair, but we are shown in Black Panther that Shuri has healed the physical damage to his brain.

If Bucky experienced permanent damage from his trauma, he would be incapable of living his life. Literally. If he suffered from PTSD and did not actively try to take measures to cope with it, he would not be able to function; his brain wouldn’t let him. (In my opinion, he still would not be “damaged” because people with mental health issues are still people who deserve respect and shouldn’t be talked about like feral animals, but hey, moving past ableist language is apparently too much to ask and I digress).

Anyways, my point is that Bucky is not only aware of his condition, but actively takes steps to treat it, therefore, he cannot be of a damaged mind. And I’m gonna prove it.

Bucky Barnes: PTSD Symptoms and Coping Strategies

Bucky exhibits both positive and negative coping strategies throughout the films as his journey to recovery progresses, sometimes back to back, which is a great, realistic choice, because it shows that recovery is not linear.

Avoidance

Avoidance occurs when a person avoids thoughts or feelings about a traumatic event; it can interfere with emotional recovery and healing and is a common reaction to trauma.

The first step in treating any illness is recognizing the need for treatment. In Captain America: The First Avenger we see Bucky actively avoid recognizing his trauma after being rescued from Azzano. He’s putting on a strong face in the name of avoidance (“Let’s hear it for Captain America!”) but he’s also suffering.

Source: https://cogentranting.tumblr.com/post/174225812218/comic-bucky-phdna-bluandorange-edgebug

There’s an additional scene in this film that, while played for laughs and parallels between Bucky and Steve, has always meant more to me. When the Howlies are all gathered in a bar, drinking, laughing, and having a good time, Bucky is by himself in the back room (avoiding friends) where it’s quiet (avoiding loud disturbances that could rock him) and he can keep an eye on his surroundings (being overly alert). His uniform is disheveled and he’s lost that cocky Sergeant Barnes signature look. When Peggy walks in and completely ignores him, this is Bucky’s reaction:

Source: https://steviebarnes.tumblr.com/post/181821865007/steve-little-shit-rogers

I don’t think Bucky was exaggerating here. Everything he’s been through lately is a horrible dream. We don’t talk about this scene enough in terms of how it shows Bucky’s vulnerability; it’s really the first hint we have that Bucky has lost a part of himself during this war.

Engaging in Dangerous Behavior/Overworking

In Captain America: The First Avenger, we witness Bucky deploying a negative coping strategy for the first time: over dedication to his work that suggests he’s overcompensating as a way of avoiding thinking about his trauma. Engaging in reckless or dangerous behavior also is a symptom of PTSD. Bucky continuously experiences new stressful situations, which ultimately will extend his healing time. For example, he willingly goes on a mission to capture Zola, the man who strapped him to a lab table and pumped him full of knock-off super soldier serum. Seeing the doctor again would be enough to trigger Bucky into an episode but he goes anyways because his dedication to the mission is more important to him than his mental stability.

Source: https://n-barnes.tumblr.com/post/170542194046/bucky-with-the-guns

Now, this is still an active war zone. The necessity of the Howling Commando missions to win the war means that Bucky doesn’t really have time to process what’s happened to him; he’s incapable of coping in a healthy way at this point and charging forward, continuing to work, is the only way he knows how to survive.

Bucky has a bad habit of not avoiding his triggers when he feels the mission is more important than his mental health. A common theme throughout every film is that Bucky is put into one dangerous situation right after another, usually immediately following a five minute breather.

In Captain America: The Winter Soldier, we see glimpses of Bucky Winter being pulled in and out of cryofreeze, placed on mission after mission. The one time we begin to see that there’s more to Winter than they’d have us believe is when Bucky’s memories surface for a hot minute in the bank vault. He has about 30 seconds of downtime where he’s aware and then…wipe him. Back on the mission to kill Captain America. Everything about his time as the Winter Soldier was dangerous; it’s not like Hydra really cared about his physical or mental health. All those years of trauma and overworking probably crashed down on Bucky, hard, the moment he was in control of his own mind again and able to rest. And his brain was in physical shambles on top of it. Poor Bucky.

Source: https://mishasteaparty.tumblr.com/post/93678343244/prep-him

Similarly, in Captain America: Civil War, we get this amazing scene:

Source: https://mackievanstan.tumblr.com/post/176453875698/let-him-rest

And another in Avengers: Infinity War:

Source: https://mackievanstan.tumblr.com/post/176453875698/let-him-rest

Once again, Bucky keeps getting thrown back into the middle of a fight when he needs to be resting. This is a very, very bad idea. Super bad. Could really fuck with Bucky’s mental health permanently, bad. This is pretty much the definition of overworking to a detrimental degree.

But what I really love about his reactions in both of these scenes is that he knows exactly how poor of an idea it is. He knows continuing to fight isn’t good for him and he’s exhausted. He goes willingly anyways, but he has this amazing control over himself at this point. Every single fight could have Bucky experiencing an episode and losing himself to the trauma; he doesn’t. (To be fair, I think this is what the Russos were hinting at but they could have worded it so much better). Bucky could have walked away. He could have surrendered in Bucharest, he could have hidden in Wakanda. He fought anyways.

This shows just how complex Bucky’s PTSD really is and how well he’s coping with it: he’s engaging in dangerous behaviors which could trigger him, but he’s doing so with awareness and self-actualization. He’s got a handle on himself. These coping behaviors directly contradict the Russos’ statement that you “don’t want to give another weapon to that guy, it could end up being used the wrong way.” With the exception of being literally triggered with the Winter Soldier code words (which are no longer a threat because good job, Shuri), Bucky fights the good fight every single time. He doesn’t go rogue. He doesn’t lose himself.

Yeah, if that doesn’t make him a hero, I don’t know what further proof I can provide, because he does this in literally every single film.

Active Coping

Active coping means accepting the impact of trauma on your life, taking direct action to improve things, and creating habits that help you respond to everyday life in a positive manner. Avoiding triggers - people, places, anniversaries, or other reminders of the traumatic event - can be a healthy coping strategy.

The first time we see Bucky take a step toward positive active coping is in Captain America: The Winter Soldier:

Source: https://thatpleasantnightmare.tumblr.com/post/147118407198

Bucky just escaped being a prisoner, was injured in a gruesome fight with his best friend, and is now on the run. What’s one of the first things he does? Research. More than that, in this scene, Bucky is clean, in civilian clothing of his choosing, and appears to have treated his injuries from the fight on the carriers. His eyes are clear and although he is in a public (read: dangerous) setting, he’s aware of his surroundings, has a calm grip on reality, and is processing information. This is Bucky taking the first step to actively reclaiming his identity. This is when we see him begin to heal and he’s doing it on his own. He’s on step one of learning to actively cope: accepting the impact of the trauma on your life.

Bucky continues to exhibit positive coping strategies on his own as time moves forward, as we see in Captain America: Civil War. By the time we meet up with Bucky in Romania, he’s already taken direct action to improve his situation. When we first see Bucky, he’s at a local market, smiling and engaging in conversation with a vendor while he buys produce. He looks good; is physically fit, is practicing hygiene, and is in clean clothes that protect his identity.

Source: https://buckybgrnes.tumblr.com/post/174829011372

I love this scene and specifically the way Sebastian played it, because we see Bucky exhibit positive and negative coping strategies nearly back to back. As he’s trying for normal, he’s also hyper aware of his surroundings, unwilling to let his guard down. He’s scanning for anything that could trigger him or endanger his health, but he is aware. Staying alert and on guard is a classic symptom of PTSD.

Source: https://kittyseb.tumblr.com/post/144559460240/this-whole-scene-of-bucky-on-the-streets-of

However, we have to understand that Bucky’s situation requires this sort of hyper vigilance. He’s a wanted man, both by Hydra and the CIA, and he’s actively being hunted. So although Bucky is displaying a classic symptom of PTSD, what we see here is him deploying a positive strategy for coping. By staying aware to his surroundings, he’s protecting himself. This is opposite to the kind of harmful behavior we should expect from him at this point in his recovery. He’s by himself, without any support, and has to look over his shoulder every block to make sure that he’s safe. Extreme hyper vigilance would show being Bucky afraid to leave his apartment altogether. Again, while he is suffering and displaying symptoms of active post traumatic stress, he’s also actively coping by taking direct action to improve his circumstances and creating habits that improve his daily life.

Through the entirety of the Romania scene in Captain America: Civil War, we catch glimpses of other healthy habits and positive coping strategies Bucky has developed.

Practicing Mindfulness

One really great blink-and-you-miss-it detail from the film is the existence of Bucky’s journals. As Steve goes through Bucky’s stuff (really, Steve?), you see him pick up a journal from the top of Bucky’s fridge. Inside are notes, memories, and references, categorized and marked by tabs. This is one of my favorite examples of Bucky using another strategy for coping with PTSD: mindfulness.

Source: a shitty screenshot I took from the movie.

Mindfulness: a mental state achieved by focusing one's awareness on the present moment, while calmly acknowledging and accepting one's feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations, used as a therapeutic technique. Mindfulness may help people get back in touch with the present moment, as well as reduce the extent with which they feel controlled by unpleasant thoughts and memories.

This is an extremely positive practice for Bucky, because at this point in the films, he’s still suffering from brain damage and memory loss. We see several examples of Bucky shaking his head, blinking, and losing himself to possible memories throughout the films. Journaling, as a way to capture those memories, categorize them, and begin rebuilding a timeline of his life, can help Bucky identify his triggers, work through episodes, and ultimately distinguish between past memories and the present, enabling him to regain control of his mind.

Maintaining a Healthy Lifestyle

When Bucky appears on screen, we see that he’s physically fit and obviously taking care of himself. We can assume that during his time as the Winter Soldier, Hydra kept Bucky in peak physical condition in order to succeed in every mission. Whether that was through training, supplements, drugs, the super soldier serum, etc., we don’t know. We don’t see Bucky continuing this training, but we do see the results of it. He’s capable of fighting, obviously maintaining his strength, and he’s able to run away.

Source: https://captaincentenarian.tumblr.com/post/149852437382/bucky-running-majestic-hair-appreciation

We also witness Bucky making healthy choices in terms of food. He’s got energy/protein bars in his apartment, snacks readily available, pots and pans which would imply he has been cooking, and even a thermos to keep himself hydrated. He’s doing his best to maintain his physical health, which in and of itself is a very positive coping method. He could be depressed, lost in his own mind, never getting out of bed. But Bucky wants to survive, he wants to be better, and so he takes care of himself. This is a good thing.

If you haven’t seen it, please read this post about Bucky’s apartment, because it hits on so many great points about how Bucky is taking care of himself.

Recognizing and Avoiding Triggers

Now for as many positive steps Bucky has taken to actively cope with having PTSD, he’s got awful luck when it comes to avoiding his triggers. It’s two steps forward, one step back, every time.

At the beginning of Captain America: Civil War, Bucky is trying his damndest to avoid being caught. But stupid Zemo has other plans.

Look, it’s hard for me to describe what happens next in the film. The way that Sebastian played these scenes will never not give me chills. We get an up close and personal view of Bucky’s PTSD in ways we’ve only caught glimpses of up until now; I don’t know what Sebastian researched in order to create this performance, but it is so spot on that it’s difficult to watch. I wish he got more credit for his acting and it’s a damn waste that he only had 30 seconds of screen time in subsequent movies. *sigh*

Anyways...

We see the acceptance and the fear in Bucky’s eyes as the CIA takes him into custody. He’s maintaining his composure, more than he should be capable of doing at this point, and he’s also letting himself slip into a safe zone (“I don’t want to talk about it.”). Until Zemo begins reading the trigger words.

Source: https://cvssian.tumblr.com/

Good grief, y’all. Look at him struggling. Bucky literally tried to fight his way out of being triggered, but he failed. Every fear he’s had for the past several years is happening. He’s losing control of his mind, of everything he’s worked so hard for up to this point. I don’t want to look too far into this as a commentary on Bucky’s character, because I don’t think the writers meant for it to be the deep - it serves more as a plot point to get us to the war part of Civil War - but if you stop and examine it for just a second, this scene is an absolute outrage. I can’t believe this happened to Bucky’s mind. They turned him into a weapon, again. They stripped him of years of hard work and recovery.

Source: https://brolinjosh.tumblr.com/

Thankfully - thankfully - one quick hit to the head later, and Bucky’s back. Not only is he aware of his surroundings, he’s cognizant enough to try playing dumb to Sam and Steve at first. I like the conversation that takes place between Bucky and Steve here, because Bucky was smart enough to give Steve exactly what he needed to hear to prove that Bucky was no longer a threat. We don’t talk about Bucky’s raw intelligence enough, likely because we’re always talking about his grief, and this scene gives us one of the rare moments in the film where we get to witness Bucky strategizing. He was just triggered, his brain is mush, he just lost control of himself, and then immediately after, he’s back on mission. We’re back to avoidance/no time to process. Bucky tucks being triggered as Winter into his back pocket to be dealt with on another day.

Remember how I said Bucky keeps getting thrown into fights, one after another? Guess what.

Source: https://captaincentenarian.tumblr.com/post/149852437382/bucky-running-majestic-hair-appreciation

There are a lot of significant, interesting parallels happening between Captain America: The First Avenger and Captain America: Civil War. The plot goes like this: Bucky was captured and actively tortured; Steve rescued him; they have no time to discuss what’s just happened and deal with it; and then Bucky is forced into another fight before he’s ready.

We can draw a lot of comparisons between the Howlies and Team Cap here and I wish that they had made the effort to explore this more in the film. This is the first time Bucky and Steve are fighting on the same team again since the war. Bucky is following Steve’s lead, even though he doesn’t know the people he’s fighting with/against, and he’s doing it because it’s for the greater good. They have to stop the other winter soldiers; the mission always comes first.

The biggest difference between the two films - and Bucky’s current state of mind - is that in The First Avenger, Bucky was actively avoiding recognizing his trauma after very similar events occurred, and in Civil War, not only does Bucky acknowledge what happened to him, we get this very poignant scene that’s both beautiful and devastating:

Source: https://bifelicitys.tumblr.com/post/182734674220/what-you-did-all-those-years-it-wasnt-you-you

This is a healthy outlook of acceptance and Bucky arrived there with nearly no outside assistance up to this point. This man has been through hell and back in the past 24 hours, on top of a hundred years of tragedy, and instead of breaking down as any reasonable person would, he fights. He has a long way to go in his recovery, but look how far he’s gotten on his own. And this is before Shuri’s help. Bucky’s willpower, tenacity, and depth of character never ceases to amaze me.

This is especially true with what happens next. You know how I said Bucky has awful luck in avoiding his triggers? Well...does walking back into the base of your own free volition where you were held prisoner and tortured for decades, count as maybe, oh I dunno, an event that should be avoided at all costs?

I’m being sarcastic but the depth of this moment shouldn’t be overlooked. Bucky going back to Siberia after everything he’s been through is a huge step backwards for his recovery. Siberia is crawling with triggers, from the threat of the other soldiers, to the cryo chambers, to the chair that wiped his memories and turned him into the Winter Soldier. The amount of bravery it took for Bucky Barnes to walk back into this place can’t be measured. He’s looking his history dead in the eyes with a shaky finger on a trigger and the fact that he doesn’t crack is astounding.

But then...this happens.

Source: https://tonystark.co/post/165333715841/buckys-facial-expressions-as-tonys-watches-the

I can barely stand to watch this because we are seeing Bucky actively having a PTSD episode. As the tape plays, Bucky is dissociating; he’s not there in the room with Steve and Tony, he’s back on the country road where he killed the Starks. The fear and the tears in his eyes, the recognition of what’s playing on the tape, and the knowledge of what’s about to happen are too much. His reaction here shows that he’s barely in control. He immediately responds to Tony lunging at him by raising his gun, an instinctive response, only to lower his weapon seconds later because of the acceptance of what he’s done. This is brutal and heartbreaking and very real.

It gets worse.

Source: https://itsawkwardfanboi.tumblr.com/post/176703555531/breaks-my-heart-seeing-him-about-to-pass-out

Bucky snapped in desperation and we witness him lose control in his battle with PTSD. It is very common for fight or flight to kick in under extreme circumstances and pressure; Bucky tried to escape, to avoid this outcome, but he couldn’t. The only thing he had left was to fight. We see Bucky lose control, not as Tony is threatening him, but because Steve is threatened. Bucky was fighting Tony, not to harm him, but to stop him, and not to protect himself, but to protect Steve. It’s an entirely different fighting style than Winter; it’s meant to disarm, not to destroy. Even though Bucky just experienced multiple triggers and traumatic events in a short timeframe, even though he is smack dab right in the middle of a traumatic episode, he still only wants to stop the fight, not kill. This is another example of how the Russos’ comments were unfair and incorrect. Bucky doesn’t go on murderous rampages; he tries to do what’s right. And what happens to him because of it?

He loses. Every single time.

Source: https://marvelworlduniverse.tumblr.com/post/172306346232

I will never forgive the writers for making Bucky lose his arm twice. Bucky has a real disability and it has always bothered me that his arm is only ever discussed as a weapon. The trauma from losing his arm the first time was never properly dealt with and here we are again, recycling that awful, painful, horrible plot point. There comes a certain point where you’ve hurt the characters enough and it does nothing for their character development. The grief, pain, and acceptance we see in Bucky’s eyes as he’s lying there wrecks me. He didn’t need to experience this. He’s been through enough. I don’t know how he’s still physically alive or not mentally lost without hope of recovery. But he is. He gets back up. And you know what he does next?

He asks for help.

Asking for Support

An important part of recovery is having a team of people around you to support you when times are tough. It is amazing to me that Bucky got as far as he did in his recovery, finding positive coping strategies and habits on his own while on the run.

Source: https://juliastiles.tumblr.com/post/178049225734/captain-america-civil-war-2016-dir-anthony

The acknowledgement of Bucky’s trauma in this scene was poignant and bittersweet and I’m very glad they included it, although I feel Steve here. It was sad to see Bucky go back into cryo, but it was necessary until the triggers could be safely removed.

And they were. This is my biggest issue with what the Russos said - they seemed to have either forgotten or refused to acknowledge what happened in Black Panther, when Shuri successfully removed the triggers and healed Bucky’s brain damage (cough, I know which one I’m placing my bets on, cough). We don’t disrespect Shuri like that in this house.

Source: http://stevechoosesbucky.tumblr.com/post/173521604559

From this point forward, Bucky’s brain is no longer damaged. He is no longer experiencing memory loss, nor is he capable of being triggered into Winter Soldier mode. Yes, he still has PTSD. Yes, he will need to continue to work on his recovery, just like Steve, just like Sam. And he does.

Speaking of Sam, this tidbit from Avengers: Endgame is really satisfying.

Source: https://paper-storm.tumblr.com/post/184537376766/can-we-talk-for-a-second-about-how-bucky-was-a

This moment is important because it shows that 1) Bucky is still very vulnerable and dealing with a lot of grief; the last time he saw Tony wasn’t exactly on the best of terms and now Bucky can never make up for what he did, and 2) Sam is an invaluable person to have at your side and a very, very good friend.

It’s hard to tell where we will go from here in the series/the next round of films, but I have a suggestion for a direction: get Bucky back to his positive coping strategies. Such as...

Spending Time Outdoors/With Animals

Before the battle in Avengers: Infinity War, we catch up with Bucky doing something seemingly very out of character: farming. Look, my blog name is Bucky the Farmer, it should tell you all you need to know about how much this tickled me when I first saw it. But upon further reflection, I realized how important this activity actually is.

Source: https://steverogersnotebook.tumblr.com/post/179505503935/bucky-in-wakanda-initial-recovery-vs-settled

It’s been shown that spending time in nature and around animals can have positive soothing effects on people who are recovering from trauma. Have you ever gone on a nice walk after a bad day to calm your mind, or spent a few minutes petting a dog? Do you exercise as a form of stress relief? It’s the same thing.

But what we’re also seeing here is Bucky taking responsibility for living beings beyond himself. He’s also interacting with children, an innocent and safe way to re-socialize himself. At this point, Bucky is past the stages of recovery where he needs to avoid, acknowledge, or actively cope with his trauma. He’s healing. He’s moving forward and learning how to live again, not just surviving day by day.

What happens next?

Prior to The Snapture, Bucky’s life was in Wakanda. Avengers: Endgame left quite a few stones unturned when it comes to Bucky’s future; we know that he’s in New York, that he won’t carry the shield, and seemingly, he and Sam are friends. He might hang out with Old Steve every now and again, visit his home in Brooklyn, or get a few goats. Maybe he’ll go back to Wakanda. Maybe he’ll be a part of the Avengers. We don’t know what Bucky will do next.

Regardless as to what happens, Bucky is in a good place. He’s experienced loads of trauma, but the physical and mental effects have been treated. His brain is not damaged and he’s continuing to recover. And when he’s ready, which I believe will be sooner than we think, he’s going to kick utter ass.

Bucky is still one of the most badass characters to ever be created; he’s efficiently deadly, a skilled fighter, the world’s best assassin. Those skills haven’t disappeared because he’s now in control of himself (and, some of those skills he had before he was the Winter Soldier; they were what made him a prime candidate in the first place. Remember, the Winter Soldier was supposed to be an equal foe to Captain America).

But he’s also so much more. Bucky has chosen to be morally good. A man who knows he can be the deadliest person in the room but chooses not to be is powerful. Is this not a direct callback to Erskine’s conversation with Steve in The First Avenger? Remember, Captain America is not a perfect soldier. He is a good man.

Bucky Barnes is a good man, no matter what trauma he’s experienced. So is Sam Wilson.

I absolutely believe it was the right choice for Sam to take up the shield at this moment in time. Let’s just get that out of the way, no Sam hate here. But I have a problem with the idea that Bucky couldn’t take up the shield because “he’s damaged” and that’s why it went to Sam instead. The Russos’ statements were insulting to both characters. Sam didn’t get the shield because Bucky wasn’t ready to carry it; Sam got the shield because it was right and he earned it. Sam deserves to be Cap just as much as Bucky deserves to take a damn nap. They don’t need to knock Bucky down in order to lift Sam up. It was a deliberate choice of words and it was wrong.

On some level, I understand what the writers and directors were trying to say: Bucky simply isn’t ready. And yet, they continue to speak about Bucky as if he’s weak, a villain, and permanently broken; I don’t think they can truly grasp how much of a complex and compelling character he really is. They had years to prepare a wise, thoughtful answer to the question of Bucky’s future and instead, they spouted off some ableist bullshit. They could take this character that embodies so much of what’s good and evil, right and wrong, fearful and hopeful, and use him to speak to hundreds if not thousands of individuals about the importance of never giving up and letting yourself find peace. They do this perfectly with Steve (“I can do this all day”) and Sam (“Are you going to carry it in a big suitcase or little man-purse?”) but why not with Bucky?

We just don’t know. But Bucky Barnes surely deserves better.

Source: https://captain-flint.tumblr.com/post/184564356218/bucky-barnes-in-avengers-endgame-looking-like-a

Recovering from trauma is an ongoing, nonlinear process. All Marvel characters have gone through some form of traumatic events and recovery. Bucky has experienced more than his fair share, but he will always survive, because that’s what he does. Now, he has the opportunity to thrive, if only the writers and directors will let him.

Sources:

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20355967

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/understand/what/index.asp

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/gethelp/selfhelp_coping.asp

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/ptsd-trauma/ptsd-symptoms-self-help-treatment.htm/

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes deserves better #avengers: endgame #russo brothers #anti-endgame #bucky meta #the unknown future of james buchanan barnes #tw: ptsd #mod gets pissed and writes an essay #and other coping strategies

[pooklet]

unaesthetic asks (anon edition)

i usually use a psd for asks to make them look nice and transparent and number them but tbh it’s just keeping me from answering asks quickly, having to shift layers around and stuff. so this is me literally cutting and pasting the text of some asks into a text post instead, sry.

if i did not answer yr thing here i lost/never got the ask, need a separate post to answer it (community lot anon), or worked myself into an anxious lather when i did not have an immediate response at the ready and fled into the woods to hide inside an old damp log and mutate slowly into a creature composed entirely of moss.

1) hey friend i think i can actually help with this one! slig did my poor lover for momma lisa, and has a few of my other skins linked to different body meshes in this tag here. @asimplevampire​ also did rehash for androgyny. those are the two i know off the top of my head but if anyone else knows any others pls reply to this post!

i don’t personally make showerproof skintones for body meshes because i a) am lazy and b) don’t usually take pics of my sims in the shower or naked in general so the occasional floating head just gives me a lil chortle when it does happen.

2) yis, it is the second to last one in this post by @magpieplayssims​ with a bunch of face masks piled on.

3) i use a personal edit of gunmod’s 3.1 A camera which alters the, like, central pivot axis so i can swing the camera underground into any basements i might be using. as a result, whenever i load the lot, it starts me off zoomed inside the floor, you just gotta zoom out with the scroll wheel to get above ground and it works normally from there. i haven’t figured out how to mitigate this while still being able to access underground rooms. which is why my edit never got its own post, but i did share it here.

4) nah, not really. i mean i have an outdated one at the back of my catalogue but my face is boring to me cuz i see it every day n stuff & i’m less and less interested in making human features now that custom sliders have let me go absolutely mad with power.

5) ye sorry i put that on my to-do list and promptly forgot about it cuz my brain seems to think that putting something on a list means it’s done forever now!!!! but now it’s actually done and i’m fixing the other links too.

6) yr phone is a craven liar and i will not stand for this libel. earlier today i was genuinely bewildered by a discussion about channing tatum cuz i thought his name was tatum channing. i sat there for minutes, convinced that there were two guys in hollywood one named channing tatum and the other named tatum channing and wondering if that ever got confusing for them.

7) u would be surprised, friend! my memory is a lawless wasteland but i do not end up chatting back and forth w/ many ppl b/c i am a seething pit of social anxiety. if we talked, like, more than twice, i probs remember u!

8) omg i was about to be like “nah i never made nosemasks for those” but that is a fucking lie of the highest caliber, i totally did make one (1) set and then forgot entirely about it. i will post them with the next batch of bodyshop content which should be Shortly (and if i don’t just yell @ me and i’ll just lazily put them on sfs and link them in a reply).

also thank u anon i am glad u like my content! :D

9) omg thank u so much anon that is so sweet of u to say!! truly i don’t feel like i have accomplished a whole lot beyond managing to snag @resurrection-failed​ but that is definitely the Best thing i could accomplish so i am 100% fine w/ that

10) oh ts4. i want to play it real bad but i have discovered that playing games that are still being updated and could break at any moment due to a new patch or ep gives me hives. esp when it’s sims games b/c those are held together exclusively w/ wishes and prayers as it is. they’re like the bottom panel of an expanding brain meme on spaghetti coding. at least when the game is Done there nothing else for EA to break (... right?). plus i only have base+pets and no money to throw at the other expansions so i could maybe download 1/10th of the cc available out there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

but i am excited to be late af to the party. lemme tell u. thank u for saying such nice things, anon!! i hope u have a good day also. like, lots of ‘em.

11) hey anon! it’s built into tumblr’s text editor. u type the text first, highlight it, and click on the fourth button that looks like a slouchy figure 8 to insert yr link. i’m not sure if it’s the same on mobile, tho, cuz the tumblr mobile app is self-elected torture.

12) i do not right now but i can make one. idk if it would interest you but i am also doing a big ol’ blend of the hq eyes and wifezaya’s favorite ephemera mist eyes and will make a default version of those too when they are done.

13) nah i am still using my v3 texture for straight hairs and for waves or natural hair i just use nouk’s originals. i’m old-fashioned and boring. if u need help w/ making yr own, tho, i would suggest checking out @furbyq​’s tutorial here!

14) hey friend! i did have plans to do that, in that vague way where i have plans to do many things but most of the time end up taking a five-hour nap under a cat instead or watchin game grumps. luckily, @digitalangels​ is a doll and did it for me so consider this my official endorsement. i am pooklet and i approve this action.

15) hey anon. when did i call it that?? i think usually i just call it marriage or equal marriage if i need to specify (or gay marriage if i’m feelin Spicy cuz nonbinary-for-nonbinary is pretty gay). if i did say same-sex it was probs w/ implied air-quotes since that was the term du jour when we got married, which was 3+ years before the supreme court mandate, when it was only legal in some places and everyone was still ‘‘‘‘debating’’’’ the ‘‘‘‘issue’’’’ of queers gettin all married.

16) i been gatherin’ links for u anon but lemme look around a lil more. i will either give this its own post or add it as its own section in the resource post that is like .... five years overdue. meanwhile if anyone reading this has anything they either know is made for dark skin or works well universally or knows of a list like this that already exists, i would appreciate links!

17) I KNOW THAT’S YOU, AZAYA

#anonymous #pooklet replies #wcif #pazooka #pooklet irl #sims 2 #ts2 #also if u got cakebread wcifs plssss ask me on dreamwidth #in the post in question #with a link to the picture

[love-lalin]

roadtrip – kim taehyung au (m)

a/n: first time publishing a fic here on tumblr, advanced apologies if it doesn’t satisfy you. + the photo above is my edit. ☺︎

lowercase intended.

genre: fluff + smut (dom! taehyung) — 90’s au

word count: 2.4k

taehyung was adventurous. he always wanted to bring you to places he knew you’d find amusing. he introduced you to art. he taught you art wasn’t just paintings or songs or poems—it was in any form possible; you.

—

first destination: museum

could be any; as long as she smiles.

he writes it down the back of the map, following with a huge circle indicating a museum at the front. “as long as i smile?” i ask.

“yeah,” he smiles, “your smile is the reason for mine.” i squinch at him.

“what?” he asks, giving off his boxed smile again. “it isn’t my fault you’re that special to me,”

“it’s my fault then?” i ask.

“maybe,” he chuckles. “you’re the rose i’d do everything to keep red and fresh.”

“sweet, taehyung.”

“that’s me!” he playfully declares, pointing at himself. “but only to my girl of course.”

“hmm,” i chuckle. i kiss his cheek. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” he looks into my eyes, placing a chaste kiss on my lips.

destination 1 : art museum

“we’re here baby,” he wakes me up, poking my cheeks. “you’re so squishy, wake up! i might go crazy.”

“hmph,” i pout.

“come on, baby girl. we’re here now. the parking has a time limit,”

“alright,” i finally stretch and hop off the car.

“i still can’t take my eyes off what you’re wearing babe.”

a sky blue playsuit and white oxford flats with ankle socks. “this? you like it?”

“anything you wear, i like.” he says.

“oh hush, taehyung.” he just chuckles, placing his arms on my shoulders.

we walk past the doors, my eyes widening with the beauty in front of me. even the scent of the museum was fresh and wonderful.

“it’s just like you, sweetheart.” he’d say. gosh, taehyung. i never thought i’d find someone like you.

he and i were friends at first. we were sixteen. and now we’re twenty one, we’d been together ever since. i’m glad father liked him, i thought it’d be a problem. it wasn’t. and that just meant he was for me. destined for one another, my aunt would say. “you two must’ve been the fairytales daisy would read to me,” she says. “she always wanted me to read it for her. over and over. about two lovers that met because they were made to meet.”

“what’re you thinking sweetheart?” taehyung asks me.

“oh, nothing,” i smile. “i just thought of us.”

“was it because of the paintings, or the scent?”

“the scent of our fresh and wonderful love,” i say. he smiles and kisses my cheeks.

“mhm,” he hums.

he holds my hand and shows me the other paintings. “this one’s just like you, love,” he says. it was a girl holding a fresh daisy as she was swinging on a swing set at a playground.

“what, when we were sixteen?” i laugh, “it’s been so long. i miss that.”

“wanna swing again?” he asks. “let us go to a park next then”

“sure,” i reply. i swung my arms on his torso, hugging him. “you’re such a cuddly bear.”

“look, it’s you right now,” he points to another painting. a girl hugging a teddy bear in a picnic setting.

“oh, come on.” i chuckle, “are these all me?”

he shrugs. i look closer to the bottom of the painting, k.t.h — babygirl.

“kim taehyung! i can’t believe—“

“shhh, be quiet, they might get annoyed.” he laughs. “you’re so noisy when you’re shocked.”

“because i’m shocked!” i whisper. he places his finger on my lips. “taehyung, i never knew you’d paint me and then submit your artwork. and for it to be publiciz-“

“yes baby, i know, i did it for you. look at your blushed cheeks. so cute.”

“how about the swing?” i asked. he shook his head. “must be someone else’s, but it does look like you.”

i chuckle. “hm, come on let's check the others!”

—

“that was a huge museum, i’m tired, tae,” i yawn.

“but that’s just the first..” he pouts, starting the car.

“how many did you plan?”

“as much as you can take,” he grins, popping a candy into his mouth.

i place my head on his shoulder. “how many?” i whine.

“four, five.”

“goodness,” i sigh. “but thank you for the burger and fries, i got really full. it was delicious.”

“anything for my baby girl,” his baritone voice was just so captivating. i look up at him.

“what time is it?”

“it’s seven fourty six,” he replies. “around two hours for us to get to a motel. it’s quite far, the other one got demolished.”

“ohh..” i whisper, eyes closing to drift off to sleep.

—

22:06 pm

kisses on my neck woke me up.

“taehyung,” i whisper, “what.. why are you kissing me there..?”

“sorry, baby. i couldn’t take it. you and that face of yours while you sleep, it’s just.. you’re so fucking exquisite,” my eyes widen. he was panting.

“let’s go now,” i laugh. he grabs the polaroid and our bag of clothes.

“shocked?” he smirks. “i love you,”

i say the same.

he was acting strange.. he was such a bear and now he’s—

“penny for your thoughts baby?”

“oh-uh, n-nothing i just thought of something,” he chuckled. he knew what he was doing.

“your stutters are so adorable,” he says. he checks us in the motel for the night.

he holds my hand and i follow him. “you’re quiet, tae..” i whisper.

“because it’s nighttime,” he says looking back at me. “and people are sleeping.”

i just nod faintly. we finally arrive at our room and he opens the door. “make yourself comfortable, babygirl. i’ll just use the bathroom,” he says hurriedly. he closes the door and then rushes to the bathroom. i didn’t even get to reply—it was like something was bothering him.

i walk to the bed and slump my body, my stomach facing the bedsheets. i heave a sigh, today was a long day of walking.

i close my eyes to relax, but i end up falling asleep once again.

i wake up a few minutes later. “i only slept for ten minutes?..” i whisper to myself as i looked at the clock by the night stand. the bed was wonderfully soft though, it was beside the window too. it was so nice seeing the night sky above me. i sit right beside the window, opening it. i place my arms outside and my knees kneeling on the soft duvet.

“fuck,” i hear taehyung say. “why are you in that position? with your ass bent over like that?” he says as he places the bags below our bed and the polaroid at the nightstand.

“s-sorry, i-“

“damn,” he groans, placing his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes. he then ran his hands over his hair, messing his usual coconut look.

his middle parting showed, showing his forehead and stressed eyebrows.

“sit back down, baby girl.” he commands. i do so. “you’re so irresistable, shit,”  

my heart was thumping. could he hear..? it felt so..i feel like it’s going to be loud.

“can-can i?” he asks me. i thought for a short time.. and nodded. he was so stressed out, it was like..

“you’re all i need right now, fuck,” he groans. he lifted his red turtleneck off and his body was displayed right before me.

“art,” i muttered.

“can i unbutton your playsuit?” i nod once again.

“damn,” he says again. he was slowly unbuttoning them as he looks at me. he held my waist and sat me up to gently pull the top off. now for the bottom.. he smirks at me and pushes me down the bed, pulling the bottom part off of me, leaving me in my undergarments. i look up at him, with my cheeks probably very flushed by now. he takes off my oxfords but leaves my socks on. “baby, you look so cute, fuck,” him hovering over me is so—i don’t know what to say.. it’s just, it’s so hot i—“look at me baby,” he says, kissing my collarbone.

“watch me mark you—mine.” he kisses below my collar bone now, then lower. he took my bra off of me and took my breasts in his hands and kneaded it, and his lips kissed my right. he licked and sucked, making me whimper. “t-taehy-hyung..”

he placed a mark right above my chest, kissing it afterward. “you’re so adorable,” he says. he kisses my lips, licking my bottom lip. i knew what he was asking for. i gladly accept him and we share an intense kiss. he kisses my forehead after. “can i take your underwear off now?” he asks. “yes,” i pant.

he softly places his middle finger in the middle.. pressing the wet spot. “you’re soaking, baby girl.” he pulls the garment off and places his fingers back. “look at this.” he raises his hand and takes his thumb to touch the wet finger. “i-i know, tae, no need to show me..” i say shyly. he just chuckles. “you’re such a cute little flower.”

he then rubs my entrance, causing me to moan. “music to my ears, sweetheart,” i just smile at his remark.

he then slowly enters his finger in, it was so new to me.. all he’s done before was leave marks and kiss me. he’s never entered his fingers in me before, until tonight. “f-fuck, tae—“ he looks at me with quirked eyebrows. “tae?” i cover my mouth. “i think it’s safe to call me sir now.” he did tell me about that kink.

“what does baby girl want?” he asks seductively, his lips right beside my ear. his pants made my hairs rise, it was just so deep, i could feel my flow increase. “getting wetter huh, it’s flowing right out without me touching it.” he says boldly.  he then pumps his finger in and out, soon adding his ring finger. “naughty, naughty girl.” he smirks. i moan at his words and his movements, my eyes closing with the feeling. it was too good, i never knew it felt this—this wonderful, getting touched like this..

he pumps faster, soon squelches were being heard. “f-fuck—sir, please—don’t do it so hard-“ i stutter, he was making me hear how wet i was, i could tell. “no way baby. you gotta hear how wet i made you.” he smirks. he places kisses on my neck once more, making me elicit a moan. he takes his fingers out and licks them. “enough of that,” he says, “flip.” he commands, his hands holding my waist and guiding me to lie down with my face on the pillow. “raise your hips, baby.” i do so. he spanks me once, rubs me, then twice. “for the daisy fresh girl, who’s now as naughty as ever.” i look behind me to find him smirking, as he continues to play with my clit making my legs shiver in delight. “s-sir, i might—i might not take it anymore,” i say. “please, fuck me, sir.” i beg.

he takes his bottoms off, along with his underwear. “my pleasure,” he growls as he places his tip right at my entrance. he counts 3 to 1, slowly entering me and we both moan in delight. “fuck, baby,” he pants, thrusting in and out. “you’re so tight, shit,” i could her our skin slap with his power.

“this sound, from you and me—it’s art, baby girl. me in you, making love. this is art.” i just whimper as a reply, i really didn’t know what to say anymore, he took the words out of my mouth and replaced it with sounds of pleasure.

he grabs the polaroid beside us and turns it on as he fucks me hard. “this is a good memory,” he says. he places his left hand on my hip to balance himself and keep his rhythm, as his right held the polaroid camera. he spanked me once again, “just because i want to,” he giggles. i hear the shutter and he throws the camera beside me. “i’d keep that in my wallet.” he says, lowering his body. he starts biting my ear, making my knees weak, i mean—his thrusts and his hot breath, how could it not?

i could feel myself come near as i contract on his dick. “o-oh shit,” he blurts out, thrusting faster than before. “hah~” he breathes out on my ear. it felt so hot.

“i’m close, baby,” he informs me, his right hand snaking below me to touch my breast. he plays with my nipple, rolling it on the tip of his finger. “you close too?”

“y-yes sir,” i reply. “good girl. you’re being good to me. you deserve a reward.” he pulls out of me, the empty feeling leaving me hanging. “w-why?”

“ride me.” he sits and spreads his thighs, his dick up, touching his stomach. “come on.” i do as he says, sitting on his thigh first, then slowly inching myself in his dick. “o-oh, s-sir.. you feel so good,”

“you too.” he replies, kissing my forehead. “look at me now, baby girl. let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” he brushes the hair off my face, smiling as our eyes meet. he bites my lip, kissing me passionately. he suddenly thrusts his hips up, his dick sinking deeper into me. i let out a loud moan on his lips, to earn a smirk from him. he does another, then another. “you like that?” he smirks. “i do.”

“come on, ride me like the big girl you are.” he says, leaving it to me. i bounce up and down, and sometimes i roll my hips to get him deeper. i feel my end come—and i do. my juices drip down his dick, his thigh too.

“baby has a lot to offer,” he suddenly says, “you’re really made for me.” i smile down at him.

he rolls us over and fucks me to oblivion, harder and faster than fast, soon coming to his high. “i’m gonna cum at your tummy, sorry baby. i don’t wanna defile you but—“ he groans and pulls out, cumming at me.

“but i don’t think it’s time for us to have kids yet. we have to explore things first.” he winks. he kisses my cheeks, then forehead once more.

he cups my right cheek, looking at my eyes again. “you’re the woman i’ll always, always love, (y/n). i love you.”

“let’s clean you up.” he says, carrying me the bridal style. “i’m tired tae,”

“doesn’t matter. i’ll do it for you.” he kisses my cheek.

i love you, kim taehyung.

#kim taehyung #taehyung smut #bts smut #smut #v smut #jungkook #jimin #namjoon #rapmonster #fanfic #bts fanfiction #suga #dom!taehyung #90s style #au

[katesattic]

My Experience with Anxiety and Depression [and How Supernatural and Thomas Sanders (Unknowingly) Helped] #BellLetsTalk

I wanted to do something completely out of my comfort zone; I wanted to make a video about it. But then I kind of got sick and lost my voice. So that option’s kind of out. And with only two days until the event there is no way I would be giving myself enough time to learn how to edit, so even with my voice now coming back, there still wouldn’t be enough time. So, maybe I’ll try to make a video for next year. So here we are. Back to my usual format: writing.  And that’s OK. I can probably better articulate my thoughts this way anyway.

So, where do I start? Death anxiety? Social anxiety? Generalised anxiety? Depression? I guess with the death anxiety? I view it as my longest anxiety, though I could have possibly had the social anxiety longer, it was the death anxiety that was more difficult to cope with. Why don’t I just split it up into four parts so this way I’m not going back and forth on which I had when. We can focus on the chronology of each individually.

DEATH ANXIETY

So this one arose, as you could image, as the result of a loved one passing away. My grandmother specifically, though I called her Nanny, and to make things easier on myself, that’s what I’ll continue to call her.

I was no stranger to death. My younger sister, my baby brother’s twin, died at nine days old. At the time, I was three.  I definitely knew my parents were sad and that our family would be different yet again (nine days ago we went from a family of four to a family of six, now we were down to five). I knew things were going to be different, but I don’t think I understood the gravity of the situation. I don’t think I knew how finite death actually was.

Seven years later, I was ten, and my cat had been put down. I did not know this at the time, and my mum managed to convince the vet into releasing the body. So my mum brought our dead cat home and told us that she found the cat dead in the basement. For years, I swore I saw the cat’s ghost around the spot where my mum claimed she died. Now, I understand why the cat was put down, her health was deteriorating. But at that time, there was a void. She was my childhood pet and she “suddenly” passed away. I remember being legitimately sick after her passing, not just grieving but cough and fever, that whole deal. But not much else. It was twelve years ago after all.

 Two years after my cat died, so did my Nanny. To this day we still don’t know the exact cause. My dad suspects some things, but we have no definitive answer on what was his mother’s cause of death. I think I took this death the hardest. She was my favourite grandparent, and she was the first of them to die. How was that fair? Again, it was ten years ago, I was twelve, I don’t remember specifics. But I do remember a few years later when the family went to see the film UP, and I just couldn’t enjoy it. You know that beginning? Carl and Ellie’s whole life story is told in like five minutes? Yeah, well, I was kind of triggered by that. I didn’t know that was a term, but in hindsight, I was definitely triggered. Ellie reminded me of Nanny, and I just couldn’t get happy after the movie ended.

I also remember the death anxiety coming up randomly in class in grade eight, and thinking life’s so short and fearing what would happen to me after I died. I’ve had panic attacks about that. My most recent one was a really bad one in 2014. But now I don’t let myself go that deep. I don’t let myself go down that rabbit hole. I take a deep breath, tell myself “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” and find something entertaining to distract me from my thoughts. And that’s been working well so far.

SOCIAL ANXIETY

OK, this one doesn’t really have an exact start date. I can’t pinpoint any one event. I’ve kind of just always had it. And I just shrugged it off as shyness and introversion. But it’s more than that. I am definitely shy and introverted, but I also have social anxiety. When I was formally diagnosed, my mum wasn’t remotely surprised about this one. The depression was a surprise but this one she always suspected.

If anything, university made it worse. I mean, it was always an issue, but being in an entirely different province where I literally knew absolutely no one.  That didn’t help. I couldn’t even stand the thought of going to orientation. And I assumed that was because of my extreme shyness, though now I know it’s my near-crippling social anxiety. Hindsight is 20/20 after all.

I think it was during this time that I became much more active on the internet. Tumblr specifically, I love this website. But I began bingeing more on shows and would only really leave my dorm to go to the meal hall or class. I was just so terrified of social interaction. And I still am. But now I’m taking baby steps towards meeting people. Right now, all I can do is talk to people online, but if people don’t rush me and let me do it when I’m ready, I’d be fine meeting people in a comfortable and safe public place.

This is the one I think I have to work on the most. I know where I want to be and don’t know entirely how to get there, but I am taking small steps. I’m even telling people I suffer from social anxiety to let them know I’m not just being a bitch but that I am actually struggling and terrified to make social connections for fear of rejection.

The other real problem with this anxiety, for me specifically, is that I come off as bitchy and standoffish. Maybe I have bitchy resting face? I don’t know. But that’s what my mum thinks anyway. Whether I seem bitchy or snobby, or whatever is just what you see on the outside. Inside my mind, down that deep rabbit hole of suck, I am freaking the fuck out. Apparently, I mask that panic by looking snobby, who knew? But I assure you, if I’m actually being a bitch, you’d know about it. I don’t really keep that side of me quiet. But just standing alone in a crowd or in a corner? Yeah, I’m probably not plotting some bithcy scheme. I’m most likely terrified and seeking sanctuary in the very place that is so often cruel to me: my mind.

Meeting people scares the crap out of me. It really does. But I yearn for those social relationships. I am human after all. But going out into the world and actually seeking out people with whom to form those relationships? I’m not quite there yet. For now, I’m focusing on making friends online, but also people who live near me, so when I am comfortable, I will be ready to take that next step and meet them.

GENERAL ANXIETY

This asshole. This one was definitely brought on by university life. Seriously, I don’t think this would have affected me to the degree which it has, had it not been for university.  In some ways, university is better than secondary school, in others, it is exponentially worse. Procrastination only exacerbates the anxiety monster, but it definitely is not the cause. Deadlines. Terrifying deadlines, the weight of an assignment, and the fear of failure – the intense fear of failure – is the cause.

This one was kind of brought on hand-in-hand with my depression. I mean, I still stressed about marks before, but this really hit me hard when my depression stepped onto the scene. So both this beast, and depression entered into my brain after an event which I just call “the Academic Fiasco”. It is not an event I am comfortable discussing not because I am ashamed or embarrassed (though I am a bit) but because I don’t feel entirely out of the woods yet. And until I the woods are safely behind me (in other words: after I graduate) I won’t really be elaborating upon it. So the Academic Fiasco is a story for next year’s Let’s Talk Day.

Anyway, after the Academic Fiasco, I did enter into a depression. For several months. And ever since then I was never truly able to shake it. And it would come in waves. Sometimes I would be fine and my usual self but often the depression got in the way. So after the actual ordeal of the Fiasco was over with, and the depression had more or less subsided, I was then left with this anxiety. This dread that surrounded my marks in academia and my potential future career after obtaining my degree. This feeling just wouldn’t go away. And in November 2016, my friend started to notice that I was acting differently. She’s been my friend going on seventeen years now (we’ll both be 23 later this year), so she’s known me most of my life. And she could tell, through the virtual world, several provinces away, and through text not video chat, that something wasn’t right. My parents didn’t even know. Apparently, I hide my depression well. But my friend instantly suspected depression as she’s had it in the past and was medicated for it. She told me to seek help. So I booked an appointment at the Counselling Centre on campus and had a Brief Initial Consultation (where they would listen to me for thirty minutes to decide if my issues were serious enough to be waitlisted for therapy). It was during this time that the therapist believed I had anxiety, the death anxiety for sure, but also general anxiety. She didn’t really think I had depression, but she was certain I had anxiety. She suggested I seriously consider medication.

The thought had occurred to me once or twice. But until my friend expressed concern I hadn’t really thought about medication in a while. So, when the appointment was done, I went to the Health Clinic on campus and booked an appointment for the following Tuesday (I saw the therapist on Saturday).  And then I went home with nothing but the knowledge that I wasn’t crazy for thinking I wasn’t OK. And that was a relief.

It was over the next few days that I started to watch Thomas Sanders videos. Now, I know he’s been on Vine since 2013, but I really had no idea who he was up until that point. I didn’t have Vine, so I didn’t know him from there. But his vines would sometimes make their way on to my dashboard on Tumblr, so I knew of him. I knew he was that funny, relatable guy that I would occasionally see on my dashboard which could always bring a smile to my face in seven seconds or less. But I really had no idea who he was beyond that. I don’t really remember how I stumbled upon his vines on YouTube, but I did. It was there where I found an hour-and-forty-minute-long compilation of his vines – it definitely wasn’t all his Vines, but it was a significant amount of them. From there I started watching his YouTube videos. And I quite literally watched them all (check my watch history. I’m not lying) and have re-watched them many times since. For quite some time Supernatural – an oddly dark show – was the only thing that could completely distract me from my mind. Other shows and films could only do so for a time, but Supernatural and Thomas Sanders have consistently kept me distracted from the darkest areas of my mind. And this guy, this king amongst men, this angel without wings, not only did he distract me, but he brought genuine joy to my life during a time when I thought that to be impossible. Thomas Sanders wasn’t just a distraction from that horrible rabbit hole in my brain, he was genuinely uplifting. And for that, I will forever be thankful.

That following Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of November 2016, I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Together, my doctor and I agreed that it was best if I start medication.

DEPRESSION

Oy, this thing. Depression, my greatest foe. Honestly, depression is King Douchebag. Depression is that demonic Hobgoblin thing that likes to run about inside my mind and cause mayhem wherever it goes. It is the king of a shit-tastic court. This royal dickhead of a mental disorder is the reason I felt worthless after that Fiasco, this monstrosity of an illness was the reason I felt hopeless and joyless. Depression was the dementor, and my life was wasting away.

As I said above, in November I went to the therapist on campus where the therapist believed me to have anxiety but wasn’t convinced that I had depression. My friend, conversely, was certain I had depression. So that following Tuesday, after four days of bingeing Supernatural again, and watching copious amounts of Thomas Sanders videos, I went to the Health Clinic, and I talked about how I felt, and the doctor made me fill out two questionnaires. I was told to evaluate my last two weeks, rate how I felt from 0-4, and tick a little yes/no box on the depression sheet. Then she evaluated me. And she determined that I, indeed, had both depression and anxiety.

We decided together that medical intervention was best. I had been definitely suffering on-and-off since 2015. So I got the prescription and went straight to the closest pharmacy to my apartment to get it filled because I was not waiting another day. I knew the meds would take several weeks to start taking effect, so I didn’t want to waste any time. Why feel crappy any longer right? We decided on Cipralex because it’s a brand I knew (two friends of mine have taken it) and she said it had low side-effects. Now, it’s January 2017, and I definitely feel better. The meds definitely help, and I am in no way afraid to admit that.

COPING

So, I’m taking SSRIs but overall, how am I coping? Much better actually. When attacks strike, I do some breathing techniques and some light meditation. I’m also learning to face the problem instead of just hoping it goes away. Distractions might seem like nothing more than avoiding the issue but, honestly, they help. They help get you outside of your mind. And believe you me, I know how vicious the mind can be. So distractions are nice, even if they aren’t permanent. The other big thing is having someone to talk to, whether that is a friend, a family member, a teammate, a therapist, or some random stranger willing to lend you their ear. It makes a world of difference. To know that you are not alone is another big one. On days like today, it’s easy to see that. Social media is abuzz about Bell Let’s Talk. But throughout the rest of the year, it might not seem that way. And please know that if you feel alone and you need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me. You can contact me in various ways on social media or by email. I’ve been through the bad, and now I’m starting to see the light, and you will too. Just don’t be afraid to ask for help.

I started coping by escaping into shows. That’s the magic of a Netflix account. You can just binge. It doesn’t judge (except on some devices where it asks if you’re still there. Like, geez, I am just let me binge in peace!). CraveTV and the wonder that is Letterkenny also helped. It’s the best Canadian show I’ve seen in years and can’t wait for the St. Paddy’s special and season three. But the show that’s helped me the most has been Supernatural. I found the show on Netflix (I heard of it before and actually tried watching the pilot once before, but Mary on the roof scared the crap out of me, so I stopped) and binged all ten seasons. This was during my summer slump. I wasn’t truly depressed then, but there was just a gloomy air about me. After watching all ten seasons in under two weeks, I looked for other shows. I started watching Stranger Things but stopped at episode four after experiencing a panic attack (which was unrelated to the show or my usual triggers), and I have not picked up the show since. After being talked out of panic by my dad over the phone, I was calm enough to hang up. But I didn’t feel entirely at peace, so I went back to re-watching Supernatural. It was after that attack that I also watched season eleven through less conventional means (because it wasn’t on Netflix yet). And I started to feel better again. For several months, I just re-binged the show, albeit at a slower pace than I first watched it. It was the one thing that made me feel good. My worries melted away when that show was on, and I was enthralled in the narrative.

The other thing that helped me cope was Thomas Sanders. As I mentioned above, in the days leading up to my diagnoses, I stumbled upon a compilation of his Vines, and I was hooked. I found he made YouTube videos and I watched them all. I got Snapchat just so I could see his snaps. I followed him on Instagram and Twitter and liked him on Facebook. Then I found out he has a Tumblr (@thatsthat24)!  And it was magical. My favourite site and my new favourite internet personality, together! So I follow him there too. But unlike the others, I get notifications when he posts to Tumblr, and seeing those notifications are the best part of my day. It’s always something positive, or funny, or relatable, and it’s always certain to bring a smile to my face. I know that Thomas Sanders is only human and that he’s not happy every second of every day (if he were, he would be a game show host), but I really appreciate that everything he puts online is positive. I have no idea what goes on in his life, what anxieties he might face, but if he reads this, I want to thank him for brightening my day and making it suck a little less.  Because right now, he’s the thing that makes me happiest and I hope we, his fans, make him just as happy.

________________________________________________________

Holy! That was 3150-ish words (or 5 12pt Garamond single-spaced pages). If you stuck through it all, thank you. I hope #BellLetsTalk 2017 was everything you hoped it would be. And sorry for the length, but I needed to make sure I said everything. -KNC

P.S. I'm sitting here thinking about the family gossip that might ensue (because, before today, only my immediate family knew) and honestly, I don't care. I don't care if it makes them uncomfortable, because this isn't about them. My illness doesn't affect them, so I really don't care what they think or how they’ll react.

#Bell Let's Talk 2017 #bell lets talk #BellLetsTalk #spn #supernatural #spn family #fanders #thomas sanders #ts #thatsthat24 #mental illness #mental health #mental health awareness #mental health matters #anxiety #depression #end the stigma #fuck the stigma #knc

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Can you fix this? It's a broken heart. - A Voltron Fanfiction

Can you fix this? It's a broken heart.

Fandom: Voltron

Rating: PG13

Tags: 5 Times, Hugs, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family, Team Bonding, Pre-Slash, Canon Compliant, Episode Fix-It

Summary: Five times Lance gives his teammates a hug, and one time he gets one.

Notes: EDIT: Title taken from the song Family by Dar Williams.

This is not a shipping fic per se, but you can see some Allurance if you squint a bit.

You don't have to squint that hard to see the Klance.

This fic takes place during season 3, so spoilers for everything up until and including episode 6.

I started working on this fic a long, long time ago, when we still didn't know a lot about Lance's family, which is why that part is not canon-compliant, as I didn't know better at the time.

I'm using the pronoun 'she' for Pidge. I believe she won't mind.

AO3 Link

You can read the fanfiction on AO3 (see link above), or you can read it below. Feel free to share it but please link back to either my AO3 account or my tumblr account . Enjoy!

I. Keith

The Black Lion is empty. Shiro is gone.

They all stand there, staring at the empty seat for about ten seconds before everyone goes into a frenzy.

“I’ll scan the lion for anomalies!” Pidge says and runs off the lion.

“I’m coming with you!” Hunk shouts and hurries after her. The other’s follow them, tripping over each other and their own feet in their hurry to get off the Black Lion.

Lance doesn’t know what to do.

He is standing there, rooted to the spot right next to the empty chair, staring at the abandoned bayard. He is faintly aware of the voices tumbling over each other over the comms.

“Coran, can you see anything on our readings?”

“No, princess! There is nothing!”

“I can’t pick up anything on the Black Lion, either! Hunk, can you see anything?”

“No, absolutely nothing!”

“Check again!”

“Will do!”

“Coran, get us back, now!”

“But Keith, we...”

“For fucks sake, just do it!”

Lance jolts awake from his stupor when the hangar opens and the Red Lion flies out into the darkness.

Lance stumbles out of the Black Lion and right into Pidge and Hunk, who are hunched over their equipment. Pidge is tapping away on her laptop, checking and calibrating goodness knows what, while Hunk checks numerous other devices. Lance feels a bit dizzy from the speed at which they both work.

He stands behind them, feeling lost. He doesn’t know any of the technical stuff to be of any help, and he doesn’t dare distract them. That is a first for him, no doubt.

Lance thinks back to what had happened not even one varga ago, trying to comprehend everything. They fought Zarkon. They didn’t defeat him, but they had managed to wreck a lot of havoc; that was more than they had managed to do in the past. It had all happened so fast – and then Shiro screamed, and suddenly he was gone, and they were standing in the unresponsive Lion.

While Lance was trying to wrap his head around all of this mess, Pidge and Hunk had apparently been unable to find anything. They leave Lance standing there, saying something about going to the bridge. He doesn’t really catch it.

Lance knows he won’t be of any help on the bridge either, so he decides to search the Lion again. He isn’t deluded enough to hope to find Shiro cowering in some dark corner of the cockpit. He isn’t that stupid after all. But maybe there is something no one had picked up on.

Lance searches the Lion from top to bottom, inside and out. The only thing that strikes him as odd is the fact that Shiro’s bayard is still stuck to the bridge. And the fact that there is, otherwise, no clue to what had happened. To where Shiro might have disappeared to.

With an exhausted sigh, Lance plops down next to Blue, putting his helmet on the floor next to him.

It is only then that it sinks in that Shiro is gone. And they don’t have a clue where he is.

Lance may be boisterous and quick to voice his opinions, but he had never told Shiro that he looks up to him, that he became important to Lance during their time as Voltron.

Lance had known, form the very start, that this whole mission was more dangerous than any of them would like to admit. Death was waiting around the corner any time – heck, Lance already came close to dying at least twice; but he had never fully realized that loss – death – was something they could face any time they faced Zarkon or some of his cronies.

Shiro might never come back.

Lance’s breath hitches. It is very hard to breath all of a sudden.

Lance has the sudden urge to tell all of his teammates that they are important to him – yes, even Keith. Because, even if Keith still annoys him like hell, what would Lance be without his rival? What would Voltron be without each and every one of them?

What will become of Voltron now that Shiro is gone?

Lance scrambles up to his feet and grabs his helmet. But before he can rush to the bridge, the hangar opens again, and Red flies in.

They must have returned to the battlefield without Lance noticing. Before he can think more on it, he runs off to Red, positioning himself right in front of its mouth.

Maybe it was all just a bad dream. Maybe Keith found Shiro.

But when the Lion’s mouth opens and Lance sees Keith descending, all the hope that had dared to creep into him leaves him again. Lance suddenly feels very, very tired.

He looks up at Keith. Keith looks down at him. He looks like he is carrying the whole world on his shoulders, as if the weight is to heavy for him to keep going. And Lance can see the same sadness in Keith’s eyes that he himself feels in his heart.

Their eyes had locked for less than a second, but Lance could see all of this clear as day. Keith quickly looks away and makes his way down the stairs, avoiding Lance’s gaze. He seems to make an effort to appear normal, but he drags his feet, as if his whole body is slowed down by the loss.

He walks past Lance. Lance whirls around, feeling that he has to say something.

“Keith,” Lance says, and Keith stops in his tracks. He doesn’t turn around.

“Nothing,” Keith says. It is all there is to say.

Lance looks at Keith’s back, at the tension between his shoulder blades, and he knows that Keith will suffer more than anyone else on the ship.

Before Lance can think it through, he takes the two steps that separate them and grabs Keith’s arm. Keith starts and turns, ready to throw Lance off. Then Lance envelops him in a tight hug.

Lance can hear Keith’s surprised gasp and feel the tension throughout his whole body. To his own surprise, it doesn’t take long for Keith to relax into the hug. His arms hang uselessly at his sides, and he lets his head drop to Lance’s shoulder.

If this is what Lance can do in this shit situation, it is all that matters.

They stand there for a few ticks, maybe even a few vargas; Lance doesn’t know. Neither says anything. He decides that, for the moment, he would forget that Keith is still an annoying asshat.

II. Hunk

“Do you think this tastes like a cucumber?”

Hunk shoves a strangely shaped, purple something into Lance’s face. Lance grimaces. It smells weird, and he really does not want to taste it. But he also doesn’t want to eat more food goo, so he opens his mouth and bites off the tiniest amount of weird alien plant possible. He chews carefully with Hunk observing his reaction. Lance is surprised when he realizes that this purple something actually does taste like cucumber.

Hunk smiles when he sees Lance’s facial expression shift. “They will be perfect for my canapés!” He turns around again and starts working on his ingredients, hacking away expertly on the purple cucumber and something that looks like a heart shaped tomato.

After Lance and Hunk came back from their mission and announced that the ambassadors of Puig would like to meet with Allura and the Paladins, everyone had made themselves busy to prepare. It was their very first meeting with another alien race, and Allura had made it very clear that she wanted it to go smoothly. Allura had then vanished to rehearse some lines and dress up (not that she needed to, Lance thinks), while Coran and Pidge did something to the ship. Lance wasn’t quite sure what those two were up to when they vanished into the depths of the engine rooms.

Hunk had offered to provide some food for the meeting – or, as Lance sees it, he had become very excited about the various foods he had picked up on Puig and just wanted to make some real food for a change. Lance had tagged along, as he didn’t really know what to do with himself. He was already looking his best (as always), and he really didn’t want to be bored by Pidge’s and Coran’s tech talk. And food always sounded like a good idea.

So there he was, leaning against the counter of Hunk’s makeshift kitchen, watching him hack away on weird alien vegetables and assembling them in a careful manner that only Hunk seemed to make sense of.

Hunk produces another something from his pocket, and Lance bursts out laughing. “Oh my gosh, Hunk, this looks so much like a –”

“I know, stop it!” Hunk says, going all red in the face, but the corners of his mouth are turned up. “It looks weird, but I think it’s like our carrots.”

“Aw man, I love carrots. My mum used to steam them for me when I was a kid.” Lance smiles at the memory. He had never really liked vegetables as a child, so his mum had tried everything to make them more palatable for him. The only thing he ever really liked to eat were steamed carrots with butter drizzled over them. He hadn’t eaten that in years – he was much to grown up for that now.

“Really? My mum always cut them into little sticks so I could nibble on them while she read to me.” Hunk smiles, then begins to carefully skin the alien carrots.

They both go silent, and Lance notices that Hunk’s expression has become sad.

“I really miss real food, you know?”

Lance huffs. “Well, I’m not surprised, given that we have to eat food goo all day.” He indicates the vegetable in Hunk’s hand and the almost finished canapés right next to him. “But you are making real food right now, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I mean.” Hunk finishes his task and places both vegetable and knife on the table in front of him. He doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes. “I mean I miss food that looks like actual food. Not that this doesn’t look like food. But I miss tacos, and pizza, and chicken wings. I even miss my granny’s weird pies and they were all horrible.”

Lance doesn’t really know what to say to that. He misses real food, too. He misses his mum’s famous enchiladas. He misses the surprise pizza Thursdays at the pizza shack. Heck, he even misses the food at the Garrison sometimes, and that canteen food was something else. In a really bad way.

Lance thinks for a moment, then he asks, “If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?”

“Apple pie,” Hunk says, without missing a beat.

“With cream on top?”

“No, with vanilla ice cream melting on top.”

“Ugh, vanilla ice cream is the worst, how can you eat that with apple pie?” Lance says, exaggerating his affronted expression.

Hunk plays along, giving him a look of utter disbelieve. “You have no idea what’s good, do you? There is nothing more delicious than ice cream melting on top of some fresh hot apple pie.”

“I’d take cream over ice cream any day of the week.”

Hunk laughs, and Lance joins him. When they calm down, Hunk’s expression becomes distant again.

“You know, my dad makes the best apple pie in the world. I’m not kidding, that's the actually truth,” Hunk adds with a smile when Lance is about to interject. “He made some before I left for the Garrison, and he promised to make another one when I graduate. He only makes that pie for special occasions.”

Lance sees the expression on Hunk’s face shift, and he suddenly becomes very aware of the fact that his best friend might burst into tears any moment now. And the more disturbing fact is that he feels like joining him.

“I was so looking forward to that, you know. And now I don’t even know –”

Lance doesn’t let him finish that sentence. He doesn’t even want Hunk to finish that thought or even think of it ever again. Instead, he envelopes Hunk in a tight hug. He hears an “Oof!” and feels Hunk exhale in surprise by the sudden motion. However, Hunk’s shared so many bro-hugs with Lance that even in his state of surprise his arms automatically wrap around Lance.

“You will eat your dad’s pie again,” Lance says. Hunk tightens his grip and sniffs.

They separate quickly, and Lance gives Hunk his biggest smile. “You know what, I totally want to try that best pie as well. You definitely have to invite me over for that.”

Hunk smiles back broadly. “Will do.”

“And in the meantime,” Lance says, looking at the abandoned ingredients, “I think we should finish making these.”

“You mean, I have to finish making these. You did nothing.”

“I am giving you emotional support, you know? That is also a very important task.”

Hunk rolls his eyes, but he is smiling again. Lance thinks that that is an improvement.

III. Pidge

Lance finds Pidge furiously hacking away on her computer in some corner of the engine room. She is sitting on the floor, surrounded by stray tech and cables that Lance doesn’t want to know what they are for. He only knows that if anyone can built anything from all that crap, it is Pidge.

She never really leaves this place unless someone – mostly Coran or, before he disappeared, Shiro – makes her to get at least a few hours of sleep. Lance wonders how she manages to survive on less than six hours of sleep a night (or whatever counts as a night here in the middle of space). He doesn’t want to think about how his own unregular sleep pattern will affect his skin. But being a Paladin of Voltron, there really is not a lot of time to think about your beauty sleep.

As Coran was busy doing something productive (Lance has given up asking, because he never understood a word Coran was saying), Lance had been tasked to get Pidge to go to bed. After their more or less successful fight with Lotor, they were all tired and needed to rest. Even Keith, who had been particularly grumpy about their failed mission, had retreated to his room rather than beating up some bot on the training deck.

“Hey Pidge, what’re you up to?” Lance says, sidling up to her.

She doesn’t look up when she answers, “Going through all of my data to find something on Lotor.”

Lance puts his hands in his pockets and bends down to look over her shoulder at the screen. The words, both in Altean and Galra, fly over the screen, the pictures accompanying them only blurry specks of colours. Lance gets dizzy and looks back at her again. “Any luck?”

She sighs. “No. Nothing.”

Lance nods, even though she doesn’t see it. “Well, how about you try again tomorrow and go to bed now? Everyone else is already asleep.”

“Yes, yes,” she says, flapping her hand dismissively at him. “In a minute, I’m almost done.”

“You know I hate to be the voice of reason –” Lance begins, at which Pidge actually looks up at him with a raised eyebrow, “but I think you should go to bed.”

They look at each other, and Lance has trouble holding Pidge’s gaze. She can look terrifying when she wants to. Especially when she is pissed off.

To Lance’s surprise, she sighs and looks at him in defeat. “Give me five more doboshes.”

“Okay,” he says, then sits down next to her. “Five more doboshes. I’ll wait just in case you forget the time.”

He gives her his most dashing smile, and she pouts at him before returning her gaze to the computer screen.

Within thirty ticks Lance is bored. He had never been good at sitting still for an extended period of time. Even if that time was only five ticks. He twiddles his thumbs, looking around himself. He is impressed at the piles and piles of space garbage Pidge has managed to accumulate over time. He looks at weirdly angled pipes, and something that looks a lot like a satellite dish. Do aliens have cable as well? He really misses watching TV. He is probably way behind on all of his favourite shows.

His gaze wanders to find a casket. Lance is amazed that Pidge deemed it suitable for her little pile of trash, but when he looks closer, he might imagine why she kept it. It isn’t big, probably only big enough to hold some smaller tools, and it’s made of something shiny that might be metal (or whatever aliens use around in this part of the universe). However, unlike anything else he has seen so far, this casket is decorated with a tiny, intricate pattern of some sort of flowers. Lance has to squeeze his eyes shut and bent forward a bit to see it properly. They’re not flowers he knows, but they are beautiful. His sister would love it.

He thinks about Angelica, and about her little box of trinkets she likes to keep under her pillow. He had found the box in a dollar store – it wasn’t anything too fancy or as intricate as that, but she adored it. She likes to put strangely shaped stones and small seashells she found on the beach in it, but also letters from her friends and her small collection of brightly coloured paper-clips. She always told him that one day, when she was grown up, she would remember all the happy times she had when looking at her box of trinkets. Lance had asked her how paper-clips would remind her of anything, but she had only laughed and ran away to collect more stones. When she said things like that, Lance always thought she was way more mature than any other child her age. He wonders how she is doing. He should probably pick some funny stones when they next land on a planet. She would love that.

With a start Lance realizes that he had been spacing out. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he is certain that five doboshes were definitely up. He turns to look at Pidge and opens his mouth to tell her to shut down that damn computer, when he sees what she’s staring at.

Her hands have gone still on the keyboard, her eyes fixed on the picture on the screen. Lance has never met him, but he knows that it is her brother, Matt.

“Pidge?” he says, his voice unsure. She jumps, then hastily closes the file.

“Yes, time’s up, I’m going to bed,” she says, avoiding his gaze. She closes the lid of her laptop with a loud thud, but doesn’t move.

She sits there, staring at the computer in her lap. Lance thinks that she is about to say something, so he stays quiet.

“Before Matt went on the Kerberos mission, he always came into my room to tell me to go to sleep.” Her voice is quiet, and there is the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “I always forget the time when I'm working on something, and Matt always made sure I got enough sleep. He always says that, with a good nights sleep, you can do anything the next day.”

“And right he is,” Lance says. “And I bet he would say that right now, too.”

Lance notices that Pidge’s eyes are a little watery. She tries to hide it and wipes her face on her sleeve.

Right at that moment, Pidge reminds him so much of his little sister that his heart starts to ache. He doesn’t exactly know what it is; Pidge doesn't even remotely look like Angelica, who has long dark hair and the exact same eyes as Lance. But something about Pidge’s dejected posture and her sad face reminds him of a sad Angelica. He misses her so much. Just as much as Pidge misses Matt.

Before Pidge can say anythiny, Lance reaches out and envelopes her in a tight hug. She squeal in surprise for a moment, her arms flailing to keep her balance. Lance doesn’t let go. Before long, Pidge buries her face in his t-shirt and clings to his jacket. She is shaking, and Lance can feel his shirt soaking with her silent tears.

“If anyone can find him, you will,” he says, rubbing her back. “And we will help you.”

IV. Coran

Today had been an absolute disaster. Or yesterday? Lance wasn’t really sure; maybe time moved differently behind the rift, in this other dimension.

Lotor had the stupid comet. The one thing that might actually enable him to overpower Voltron. He got away with it. Just like that.

It is a disaster. Lance knows that. Everyone in the team knows that, and they all feel guilty and angry and so fucking done. At least Lance is sure that he isn’t the only one feeling this way.

He knows, without a doubt, that Allura blames herself – and only herself – for this. And, if Lance is completely honest, this is what saddens him the most. That Allura is hurt.

She had been so happy, so damn delighted, to have found Alteans on the other side of the rift. Lance had never given it too much thought (for which he really would like to kick himself), but when he saw Allura’s face brighten in light of their discovery, he suddenly realized how lonely she must have felt. How lonely she had been, as one of the only two surviving Alteans.

And seeing that hope crushed by their realization that the Altean’s had their own version of the Empire – something as bad as the Galra Empire in their own reality – the light dropping from her face and her features altogether, had broken something deep inside of him.

When they had all regained consciousness and realized what had happened to the comet, it had already been too late to follow Lotor. The Lions were weak; they just didn’t have a chance.

Back in the hangar, after they had updated a very confused Coran, Allura immediately left, stalking down a corridor, her long hair trailing behind her. Lance didn’t really register anything that Pidge nor Hunk said, who both shuffeled off into another direction. Possibly to distract themselves by working on their latest scientific project.

Lance stands in front of Blue, looking after Allura’s retreating figure. He is about to say something, to keep her from leaving, from running into her pain, when he hears Keith clearing his throat. Lance looks up. His and Keith’s eyes meet. Neither says a word, but Lance completely understands. He gives Keith a curt nod, and then Keith is rushing after Allura.

“I, er, should get back to my work,” Coran says, somewhere behind Lance. His voice sounds flat. There is something, like a small hitch in how he says it that catches Lance’s attention. He turns around to say something, but Coran has suddenly disappeared to somewhere, doing something only he can understand.

Now Lance is alone in the hangar. The Lions loom in the semi-darkness, silent but ever-present observers. Lance looks up at Blue. She looks down at him, and Lance can’t help but feel soothed by her presence. Even though Allura is now the one piloting her, he still feels most connected to Blue.

He really wishes Blue would still want to have the same bond with him. Maybe, just maybe, she could then give him the advice he so desperately needs right now.

“How can we fix this mess?” he says, looking up into Blue’s dark eyes. She doesn’t answer. The hum of the ship around him is all that Lance can hear.

Shaking himself, he turns on the spot, and starts walking down to the engine room. He cannot shake the feeling that something is up with Coran. He wouldn’t say that Coran being something other than chipper and overbearing (which, to be honest, is his default mode) was completely out of this universe; everyone had their bad days, and that was also true of Coran. However, Lance is certain that this time, something is up.

It doesn’t take long for Lance to find Coran. He is, as Lance had expected, in the engine room connected to the Teludavs, tinkering away on some console.

Coran has his back to Lance. He watches him for a while, standing in the door frame, uncertain of what to do.

“Hey Coran, whatya doing?” Lance says eventually.

From the way that Coran jumps and drops several of his weirdly shaped tools on the floor, Lance can tell that he really didn’t hear him coming, which is unusual.

“Gosh, where did you come from?” Coran says and turns around to look at Lance, his eyes huge.

“The hangar,” Lance says, matter of factly, waving his helmet around before placing it on one of the consoles next to him. It doesn’t seem to be operating, so Lance hopes he doesn’t accidentally push the self-destruct button (which would just be their luck, honestly).

Coran watches him, but doesn’t reprimand him, which is a good sign.

“Aha,” Coran says. He bends to retrieve his tools, then turns around to keep on doing whatever he was doing. Now that wasn’t a good sign.

“Don’t you want to get changed? Or train? Or something?” Coran says, his back still to Lance.

Lance arches an eyebrow. “I thought I could help you out,” he says, even though both him and Coran know that he is no help at all, ever.

He walks up to stand next to Coran, peering at what he is doing. Coran has removed the cover of the console. The wires on the inside, which are coloured in every colour of the known universe, are pouring out to each side of the opening. Coran is holding something that might be pliers, but the ends look wrong, and Lance has no clue what he is doing.

Lance doesn’t know anything about the ship’s mechanics, but he is absolutely certain that there is nothing on the ship that is so badly malfunctioning that Coran needs to attend to it right this moment.

When he looks up, Coran is not looking at him. He looks down at his work, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. Or the effort to avoid Lance’s gaze.

“What do you need?”

The question hangs in the air between them. Lance leaves it up to Coran to decide what it means.

For about a dobosh, he doesn’t say anything. Then, without looking up, he extends his free hand, palm up. “Pass me the vrorlos.”

Lance blinks. “The what?”

“The vrorlos. The red thing right next to you.”

Lance turns around and spots something that looks like a screwdriver, but all flat on top. He picks it up and hands it over to Coran, who wordlessly takes it and pokes it into the console.

Lance doesn’t know anything about machines and tools, but he really can’t see how that silly thing can actually do anything. It looked all wrong.

For a while, they just stand there, Coran working away on the console, and Lance watching him. The silence between them is only disrupted by the clinking of metal on metal and Coran’s instructions to get him even more weirdly shaped tools.

Lance watches as Coran pushes the wires from side to side, making them all glow a deep purple, then different shades of blue, before they go back to their multicoloured state.

Lance doesn’t know how long they stand and work like this. It might be a few doboshes, or maybe even many vargas; he only knows that the quiet humming of the ship, the soft blue light in the small room, and their companionable silence is soothing.

Even though no one comes looking for them. Even though they are alone.

Lance doesn’t feel like it is his place to break the silence. They both are really not themselves today, he muses.

Coran had been rummaging through the console with another ridiculous tool for quite some time now, and Lance suspects that there actually is nothing to fix. His suspicions are proven correct when Coran suddenly speaks up.

“The Alteans...the ones you met...what were they like?”

Lance has to think about this for a moment. “Well, they seemed kinda nice at first but….well, they sort of turned out to be like the Galra.” Lance immediately regrets saying this and hastily adds, “I mean, they were different than the Alteans in this reality, obviously. And they definitely weren’t as bad as the Galra.”

“From what the princess said, they sounded even worse.”

“I don’t know,” Lance says, trying to grasp for the right words. “I don’t think it makes sense to compare one reality to another. In the end, every choice ever being made can lead to another reality, and we just have to accept the one we are living in without constantly asking ourself ‘what if’.”

Coran’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline, and he turns his head to stare at Lance. Lance can feel his face go red.

“I didn’t know you were so intelligent!”

“I have my moments,” Lance says, grinning up at Coran. If anyone else had been around – especially Keith – Lance would not have owned up to this. But this was Coran, and Lance knew he didn’t mean it as an insult.

Coran huffs a laugh in response, then goes quiet again. He looks down at the console. His hands have stilled, one resting on the wires, the other clutching a tool (a tagnal, if Lance remembers correctly).

The silence between them stretches, but when Coran speaks up again, his voice unusually quiet, it feels so much louder.

“Before the war started, there was this girl...and no, this is not the way you think it is.” Coran shoots Lance a quick glare, just as Lance was about to say something. Coran really knows him a bit too well.

Lance closes his mouth, but he cannot keep from smirking a bit. “What was her name?”

“Nafori,” Coran says, and looks down at his hands again. “She was one of the maids. About your age, and orphaned. I knew that Allura’s mother, the queen, had insisted on employing her. She wasn’t good or bad at what she did. She was just one of the maids, nothing more.

“At least that’s what I thought until I found out that she had a knack for engines. She was good at repairing them – so good, I still wonder where she got it from. She never wanted to talk about her family, but I always assumed that she must have learned something from them. Or maybe she was just a particularly gifted young woman.”

“Or both,” Lance interjects. Coran’s answering smile is weak.

“I had left one of my latest projects unattended...actually, I cannot really remember what it was anymore...but when I returned, I found her pottering about it. At first, I was shocked, but when I found that she had fixed the problem I had been struggling with for weeks, I immediately took her under my wing.”

Coran has removed his hands from the console. He is still looking down at his hands, toying with the tagnal, turning it this way and that way. There is something unbelievably sad in Coran’s face, it actually scares Lance. He has never seen Coran so vulnerable.

“I trained her. She was a very intelligent, very bright and enthusiastic student. It didn’t take long for her to learn everything she needed, and more. Soon, she accompanied and assisted me in almost every project. We grew close.”

At the last sentence, Coran’s voice almost breaks. Lance feels his own heart breaking. And he feels shame and guilt creeping up the back of his neck.

Lance had never stopped to think whether Coran had lost someone to the Galra empire. Allura had lost her father. Heck, they had both lost their entire race. They were the last Alteans alive. That was bad enough. But he had never thought to ask Coran if he had lost someone important to him. Lance had never thought twice, as Coran had always seemed so chipper and ditzy. It just proved that Lance should never judge a book by its cover, and that he should never, ever, take Coran for granted.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says. It’s dumb, and it is not enough, but is the only thing he can think of.

“When I heard that you found Alteans, I thought that, maybe...” Coran doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t have to. Hope can be such a cruel thing sometimes.

Lance looks at Coran’s profile, his sad eyes, his slumped shoulders, and his arms that hang uselessly to his sides. He looks completely beaten. So lost and lonely.

With a sharp twinge in his heart Lance is painfully reminded of his own family. He misses them so terribly. What if something had happened to one of them while he was gone? Would he meet all of them when they (hopefully) went back to earth? Would they have changed? How much would the twins have grown? Would Angelica still keep her box under her pillow? Would they still live in their house by the beach, with the sea in their back garden?

With a sudden jolt of panic, Lance has another thought; do they know that he is still alive? What did the Garrison tell them after his disappearance?

Suddenly, there are tears in Lance’s eyes, and he has trouble from keeping them welling over. Within just a few ticks, Lance feels like all his homesickness, all his anxieties, and all his sadness surfaces and threatens to burst out of him, cracking the shell of his all too human body, flooding the engine room, drowning him in it’s tidal madness.

He looks up at Coran, expecting him to recoil from him, from the sheer amount of emotion that Lance feels he is emanating now, but Coran is still standing next to him, looking so lost. And it is that image of him that, oddly, calms Lance instantly.

He is not alone.

Lance needs Coran to know that. That they both feel alone. But also, and it hits Lance hard, and with a force that almost knocks him off his feet, that they have each other, that they have the Lions, and Allura, and Pidge and Hunk and Keith. They all have each other. And nothing will change that.

Lance grabs Coran by the arm and pulls him into a tight hug. Coran gives a tiny huff of surprise, but then his arms come up to reciprocate.

Lance cannot even pretend to imagine how it must feel to loose ones entire race, or how it feels to loose a loved one; but he hopes that Coran understands, can comprehend all the tangled emotions and thoughts and feelings Lance has towards him, Allura, the Paladins, heck, even the mice, when he says,

“You are not alone, Coran. Never.”

Coran’s grip tightens. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds unto Lance for a few more doboshes.

V. Allura

It is still way too early when he hears a knock on his door.

Lance buries his face in his pillow and pulls the blanket over his face. Just five more doboshes.

It knocks again. And again. Lance groans.

“Lance?” Her voice is muffled, but it is without a doubt Allura.

Suddenly Lance is throwing off his blankets and jumps out of his bed. He almost trips over his lion-slippers on his way to the door.

“Good morning princess,” he says, flashing Allura his most dashing smile. “How can I help you so early in the morning?”

Allura’s eyes flit down his body for a second. She raises her hand, and coughs. “Good morning Lance. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Oh no, you didn’t...” Lance begins, but then he realizes that he literally just jumped out of bed and is still wearing his pyjamas. His very, very unmanly, unflattering pyjamas.

He looks up at Allura, and sure enough she is trying to hide a smile behind her hand. Her eyes are betraying her, though, which are twinkling up at him from under her long lashes.

Lance immediately goes completely red.”Give me a tick,” he says and rushes back inside his quarters and throws on his clothes.

When he comes back Allura is still standing where he left her, playing with one of the mice sitting on her shoulder. He didn’t notice the mice were with her before.

“So, Allura, how can I help you?” he says, smiling again. Not as radiant, but he hopes he can cover up the utter shame he is still feeling from having Allura see him in his pyjamas.

“I know it’s still early, but I thought you could help me out,” she says, meeting his gaze. Even though she is smiling at him, Lance can immediately see that it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“What with?” He steps out of his quarters and lets the door slide shut behind him. He would love to invite Allura inside to discuss whatever she wants to talk about – he really wouldn’t mind that at all – but something tells him that now is not the time to flirt with her. Plus, his room is an absolute mess.

“Well, you know that I haven’t been flying the Blue Lion for that long,” she begins, averting her gaze. “And I thought you, as the former blue paladin, could give me some advice? Some secrets I should know?”

She looks up again, her eyes searching his. He isn’t exactly sure what she expects him to do. If he was completely honest, he never really found out anything significant that the others didn’t know of. He and Blue did have a bond, he would never claim anything less – but secrets? He never found out anything, despite the thing with the bayard; but that was hardly anything that he had to tell Allura about.

He is also somewhat confused because Allura is no doubts the fastest learner of all of the Voltron paladins. If anyone needed some pointers on being a better paladin, it is definitely not her.

So, what should he tell her? That he couldn’t help her? That she already knew more than he ever did? That she was the most kick-ass woman he ever met and definitely didn’t need help from a former fighter pilot cadet who barely made it through the Garrison program?

But looking at her huge eyes, which expectantly look up at him, he just can’t say no.

“Absolutely!” Lance exclaims, maybe a bit too loud.

“Brilliant!” Allura claps her hands and smiles at him. The mice sitting on her shoulder are momentarily dislocated from their seat, squeaking angrily while trying to cling to her suit.

“Sorry,” she says, helping them get back on her shoulder. “So, should we go down to the hangar?”

Lance nods. They start walking down the hallway, side by side. Lance hasn’t been alone with Allura often. He can feel his palms getting sweaty. He tries to wipe them on his trousers without her noticing.

“Have you slept well?” she asks.

“Er, yeah. You?”

“Yes, I did.”

She coughs. The silence between them is awkward. Especially because he knows they are both lying.

The rest of their walk down to the Lions is quiet, neither meeting the others eyes. Lance can hear the mice squeaking something he cannot understand, but he likes to imagine that they have a very heated conversation about which kind of cheese is the best one out there. Lance would support the one pleading for cheddar. Cheddar’s the best.

When they reach the Blue Lion, they step inside and climb up to the cockpit. As soon as they enter it, Lance starts talking. Just talking. He points out everything that he can see, telling Allura what he knows. He points out the screens, the handles, the chair; he shows her the place where the bayard goes; he tells her that she probably should put on her seatbelt when piloting Blue.

Allura, of course, knows all of this. Lance knows that. But she doesn’t say anything; she just smiles, inspects everything he points out, and nods along. She doesn’t say a word.

Her smile, however, is tense, and her eyes are unsmiling. Lance sees this, and he doesn’t know what to do, so he does what he knows best; talk and make jokes.

“You know, Blue is a tender one,” he says at some point, patting the console in front of the chair fondly. “She likes it if you talk sweetly to her. Don’t you, girl?” He pats the console again and smiles. Blue doesn’t answer, but he is sure she hears him.

Allura chuckles. “She?”

Lance looks up, bewildered. “Yes, she. Blue is an ass-kicking lady.” He grins at Allura, wagging his eyebrows. “Just like her pilot.”

Allura roles her eyes at him, but she smiles. “Well, thank you for that, Lance.”

Allura has set the mice on the armrest of the chair. They are running around the arms and the back, chasing each other and squealing in delight. She smiles down at them, but her smile is quickly wiped from her face. She walks around the chair and sits heavily on it. She sighs.

“So, er, I think that’s everything I know,” Lance says. He rubs at the back of his head. He feels so very inadequate. He just doesn’t know what to say anymore.

They are silent for a moment. The mice are making the only noise in the tiny cockpit.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Allura blurts out.

Lance blinks. “What?”

“I don’t think I can be a paladin.”

Allura’s eyes are fixed on her lap, where she is wringing her hands. Her shoulders are tense. He can see the fabric of her suit ruffle up between her shoulder blades.

Lance blinks again. And again. Then he walks around the chair to confront her. She doesn’t look up at him.

“What do you mean you can’t be a paladin?”

Allura doesn’t look up, and her voice is small and quiet when she answers. “You all have been piloting the Lions for so long, and I just...happened to become a paladin out of luck. Because we needed a fifth pilot. I may be able to pilot Blue, but I don’t know...” She stops, swallows. Her voice is thick when she continues, “I don’t know if I am the right choice for this.”

Lance’s jaw drops. He just cannot comprehend how Allura, Princess Allura, pilot of the freaking Castle of Lions, overall bad-ass superwoman, can actually doubt herself.

When he looks down at her, she looks so fragile. So small, and helpless. He is having a deja vu. She reminds him a lot of someone. And that someone is himself.

He can remember it so clearly. It was shortly after he started his training at the Garrison. His first piloting test had been an absolute disaster. The lessons were hard, and somehow everyone knew so much more than he did. He only got by with his usual exuberant swagger. But on the inside, he was feeling so lost.

He had been so desperate that he had actually gone and visited Veronica.

He sat in her office chair, slumped over, just like Allura in front of him right now. He hadn’t dared to show any weakness in front of anyone – most notably Keith (and Shiro, gosh, he really misses Shiro) – but it was different with Veronica. With Veronica, he could be vulnerable. With Veronica, he could be the child that he still felt that he was.

She had been standing in front of him, arms folded in front of her chest, lips pressed into a thin line.

“What’s the matter, Lance?” she had said, her voice all soft. She never spoke soft to anyone. It was her special big sister voice. And Lance had really needed it. But at that point, it also reminded him of how small he was.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he had said, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t think I can be a pilot.”

She huffed. “Nonsense!”

He looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed in question. She had put her hands on her hips and regarded him with a stern glare.

“Lance, are you trying to tell me you are giving up? The term hasn’t really started yet!”

“I know, I know! But I barely made it through our first test! And then there are so many others who are so much better than me, and...”

“Lance! That is all rubbish!”

Lance blinked up at her. “What?”

Veronica’s eyes were serious when she said, “When did you become someone who gave up at the very start?”

Lance was still blinking up at her. She sighed, then sat down on the chair right next to his. “What I mean is, you barely started your training and you are already thinking you are not good enough? Lance, you just started your training.”

Lance stared up at her. “But-”

“Uh uh uh, don’t even start,” she said, wagging her finger in front of his face. “I know it’s hard here at the Garrison, but I know you can do it. You’ve always wanted to do this. So you will do this.”

Then she had leaned over and hugged him. “You’re not giving up,” she said into his hair.

He hadn’t given up. He had pushed through, and it had gotten him here.

But, for all his bravado at the Garrison, he had always know that he isn’t the best pilot. He had managed to become an average one, but not a good one. It was only when he had become a paladin that he had somewhat improved.

Seeing Allura sitting in front of him now, her shoulders tense, he feels a strange kind of anger bubble up inside of him. Allura is such a talented pilot – she had managed to learn so much more than he had in double the time. She knows so many things, fights like a warrior, flies like a bird; how can she not see how amazing she is?

Did Veronica have the same thoughts, all those years back?

“Stop it,” Lance says, and his voice is unusually harsh. “You stop right there.”

Allura’s head snaps up. There is hurt written all over her face, but Lance ignores it.

“Allura, Blue chose you not because we were one pilot short, but because you were the right choice. Because you have everything, and more, that a paladin of Voltron needs.”

Hurt yields to surprise, and Lance watches this change in her eyes with a mix of feelings that he cannot pin down.

“But-”

“No,” he says decisively. Before he can think better of it, he grabs Allura’s hands and pulls her up and into his arms.

“Lance, what-” she says in surprise. He hugs her close, but she is completely rigid in his grasp.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself. Because we will never doubt you.”

She relaxes and tentatively puts her hands on his back. She buries her face in his hoody and says, “Thank you, Lance.”

He smiles into her hair.

He wants to add that, if anything, he is the odd one out. But he doesn’t.

*

I. Lance

When the doors close behind Lance, it takes Keith at least thirty ticks until he realizes that he made a huge mistake.

He slaps his hand against his forehead, hard, and hisses at the pain.

“Shit,” he says, and runs out of his room.

Lance can’t have gone far; however, standing in the hallway in front of his room, Keith can’t see Lance on either end. He runs down the right hand side where he knows Lance’s room is.

It would just be like Lance to go to his room, play video games and wallow in his pain, Keith thinks. Wait, no, that was harsh. Lance doesn’t deserve this.

This time, Keith is highly aware that it isn’t Lance’s fault.

Lance had come to Keith to talk about his position as a paladin in the team. Keith really doesn’t know what he was on about. Why should Lance worry about something like that? And why did Lance come to talk to Keith, out of all people?

Keith doesn’t want to think about what Lance has said...about being the leader now...Keith pushes that thought far away. It’s not the time to think about that.

That wasn’t the point, anyway. Lance was troubled by something. Keith only fully realized this when Lance had already left. And instead of giving him comfort, Keith had made it worse.

He reaches the door to Lance’s quarters and bangs on the door. He waits. But no one answers.

“Lance?” he says, banging on the door again. “Are you in there?” No answer.

Keith curses under his breath. Where could he have gone?

He turns and runs down the way he came from. Maybe Lance went down to the training deck.

Keith is still puzzled that Lance came to talk to him, out of all the people of this ship who would have done a way better job at this than him. Wasn’t he really close with Hunk? Why didn’t he talk to Allura? Or Shiro?

Shiro had always been way better at handling people than Keith had. Keith himself was living proof of that. Shiro had always listened and given advice to each and every one of Team Voltron before he had disappeared. Well, Shiro hasn’t been back for long, and everyone is trying to ease him back into the team (which, Shiro being Shiro, he didn’t really accept and just threw himself back into action head first), but Keith had assumed that, should anyone want to talk, they would go and talk to Shiro.

Keith reaches the training deck, but it is empty. Well, if he thought about it, Lance was about the laziest paladin of them all; of course he wouldn’t be here.

Which isn’t true in the slightest.

Keith turns and runs down to the kitchens. It is almost dinnertime, maybe Lance went down early.

Keith had always been bad at reading people. He had always been bad at talking to people, let alone give advice or comfort. He is sure all of the others know that, but for some reason that was a complete mystery to him, Lance had deemed him the right person to talk to about his problem.

And Keith still doesn’t know what exactly the problem is.

But what he does know is that Lance never looked as crestfallen as he did when he left Keith’s room. He may have smiled at Keith when he turned around at Keith’s last attempt to say something, but it didn’t reach his eyes. And it had taken Keith way too long to actually register that.

Lance isn’t down in the kitchen. He’s also not in the hangar, not with Hunk or Pidge, or on the deck.

“Where the hell are you?” Keith pants, leaning against the wall of the ship to catch his breath.

Keith looked everywhere. Well, the ship is huge, so everywhere doesn’t actually cover each corner; but there is no other place Keith can think of where Lance could have gone to.

He slips down the wall, wreaking his brain. Where the hell could this idiot have gone to?

Why does he even bother looking for Lance? What could he even do to make things better? He doesn’t even know what he should make better, so how could Keith be of any help?

But then he remembers Lance’s face; the sadness in his dark blue eyes. Lance was never like this. He was never sad, not like this, and something about that really bothered Keith. He didn’t like that look on Lance’s face. Something deep inside of Keith tells him that he has to do something about it, even if he doesn’t know what that something is.

He sighs, pushing his fringe out of his face. He looks up at the blank ceiling. And then it hits him.

The observatory!

Keith jumps up and runs down the corridor. He might be wrong altogether, but something tells him that Lance is there.

When the doors to the observatory slide open, Keith can immediately see Lance. He is sitting on the floor, right in the middle of the room. The room is dark, and Keith can only make out Lance’s shape. He would recognize that profile anywhere.

Lance doesn’t look up when Keith enters the room and the doors noiselessly slide shut behind him. In fact, he seems to be looking at something on the floor right in front of him. Keith hesitates. Does Lance even want him to be here?

Keith swallows his uncertainty and walks over to Lance. In one swift motion, he sits down right next to him.

Lance still doesn’t say anything, or looks up. Keith can now see that Lance is looking down and playing with the mice, who seem to be fighting over a snack.

Keith doesn’t know what to say. He was adamant to find Lance, to do something; but now, sitting right next to him in the dark, his mind is completely wiped blank. He was sure he’d had some kind of plan earlier, but that was now completely gone.

The silence between them stretches. Lance, who is normally filling every quiet second in his life (and everyone else’s, for that matter) with meaningless chit-chat, is so uncharacteristically quiet, Keith is honestly concerned.

Keith is getting more and more nervous. He can feel his hands getting all clammy. Gosh, what the hell is he supposed to do now? He wishes he could just stand up and flee, run back to his room and hide under the blankets. But that would be weird, so he stays, and stares straight ahead of him to the stars.

Keith wonders which ones they have already visited, and which have already been destroyed by the Galra Empire. You never knew; a sun sends it’s light into the universe and it will burn for a thousand deca-phoebs, even though that sun has died a thousand deca-phoebs ago. How would they know which star was still salvageable, and which not? Which died of natural causes, and which has been exterminated by the Galra?

As a child, Keith had often looked to the stars. It calmed him. Knowing that there was so much more out there than the tiny shoe-box minds of people. It gave him a sense of belonging; and a yearning for the stars that shone so brightly during the night. He imagined, back then, that each star held an adventure all of it’s own, and they were just waiting for him to find them. That was, in fact, the reason he went to the Garrison, even though by then he already knew the actual fate of the stars. He still wanted to reach beyond the earth’s horizon, reach for the millions of suns and get lost in the black emptiness of the universe.

He would have never dreamed, after being kicked out of the Garrison, that he would actually achieve this dream. He felt more at home in the Castle of Lions than anywhere on earth.

The thousand suns beyond the window pane softly illuminate the observatory, and Keith’s eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. Keith peers over at Lance. Lance wears a solemn expression, and he looks oddly fragile. Keith doesn’t know what it means, but something about this pulls unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach.

The mice to Lance’s feet squeak in delight over their snack, but then the biggest one gets a hold of it and runs off, the other mice hot on it’s tail. Lance let’s his hand fall into his lap, and he looks up to the stars.

“Why are you here?” Lance suddenly says. His voice is quiet for his standards. Keith jumps a bit. He hadn’t expected for Lance to speak up first. Then again, he hadn’t really planned on saying anything himself soon.

Well, why was he here? That was a really good question. Keith doesn’t know the answer. He just knows what he really needs to say.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

What for indeed? Keith is still unsure. And he doesn’t want to give Lance a half-baked answer. So he shrugs.

Lance sighs. He doesn’t say anything else, but he leans back on his hands and stares out of the window.

“You don’t have to sit here and pity me,” Lance says eventually.

Keith turns his head to properly look at Lance. There was no bite in his words. Just hurt.

Suddenly, Keith has this very strong impulse to tell Lance what he thinks of him. Tell him exactly what he has been thinking for a couple of movements now (or however long they have been on this ship).

He wants to tell him that, since his dad died, he had never had a proper family. No Foster Home he had been subjected to had ever welcomed him. Only when Shiro came along and took him under his wing – almost quite literally – he had someone to call his family.

Then, when Shiro disappeared, and reappeared a year later; when Hunk, Lance and Pidge had almost prevented him from saving Shiro; when they had found the Blue Lion; when they found Allura and Coran; when they became the paladins of Voltron; when they fought for the Galaxy and beat Zarkon; suddenly, when Keith thought of ‘Home,’ it wasn’t just space and Shiro’s face that came to his mind. There were also Hunk, and Pidge, and Allura and Coran.

And Lance.

They all had become his family. They all had sneaked themselves into his life, without him knowing it.

And that is why he will never stop looking for Shiro. He will never stop fighting the Galra, who threaten his home. He will never stop doing what he has to do to fight for his family.

He wants to tell Lance that this weird family would never be complete without him, and that he, and the others, need Lance very much. Voltron will never be Voltron without Lance.

And maybe that is exactly what Lance needs to hear.

But Keith doesn’t know how to handle people, and he doesn’t know how to comfort people. All the emotions he feels are stuck in his throat, bundling up into a ball that almost chokes him. He can’t get it out, but he doesn’t seem to be able to swallow it, either, but he knows that he has to do something. So he does, in a moment of inspiration and sheer madness, the only thing that Lance will understand.

Keith slips closer to Lance; then, pushing all his anxieties to the back of his mind, throws his left arm around Lance’s shoulders and draws him close.

Lance gives a weird sort of squeak, but Keith ignores it and tucks Lance’s head under his chin and brings his other arm up to hold him tight to his chest.

Lance is completely rigid in Keith’s grasp. Keith himself feels a bit stiff and odd doing this, but he won’t back down now. He will hold unto this idiot until he knows that he is wanted, that Keith needs him.

This thought shoots through his brain, and he doesn’t really know where it came from. He can feel his face heat up, but he ignores it. This is not important; not right now.

After what feels like an eternity, Lance scoots a bit closer to Keith, and his arms come up to hold unto his back. He buries his face in Keith’s shirt, and Keith is sure he can hear Lance give a relieved sort of sigh.

Suddenly, their embrace doesn’t feel odd or stiff or weird anymore. Lance melts into Keith, and Keith holds on a little tighter.

Neither says a word. The room is quiet, and completely dark. Only the stars beyond the Castle of Lions cast a soft light on their entwined bodies, and they shimmer and flicker and Keith is sure they sing a song of home to them. Because, right here, right now, they are exactly where they need to be.

Home.

#voltron #voltron fandom #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #hunk #pidge #pidge gunderson #katie holt #allura #coran #5 times #fanfiction #fanfic #Hugs #team bonding #team as family #pre-slash #mild hurt #comfort #fix-it fic #gabbygumswrites

[thotragnar0k]

i’ve been occasionally vague in my tags recently (don’t know if anyone actually reads them when i do add them but anyway) and I figured i should probably explain myself.

this past month of august has been really hard for all the good things that have happened in it. i’ve been feeling really upset about my body, my eating habits and my lifestyle, and while i thought being at home wasn’t helping, i was wrong (for reasons that will be explained in this super long post - i am so sorry people who don’t care about me).

i’ve never been happy with my weight. friends of mine have probably noticed that i put myself down a lot - saying self-deprecating things like I’m ugly and one such thing today i’m nowhere near pretty enough to a) marry rich and b) have a sugar daddy (you don’t need context here) - and it’s a problem i am subconsciously trying to fix. 

but as i was saying, my body and i have never been on good terms. i think that my curves are in all the wrong places, and i feel like i’m in that gross in-between where no clothes look good on me, and I don’t have the right proportions for my tall (5′7-5′8) body.

i celebrated my 20th birthday this year, twice technically. Once a few days before with my friends and another the weekend of with my family. Firstly the night out with my friends. Sidenote: I’m not a ‘night out’ kind of girl. I don’t really like to get hammered. I will, I just won’t drink so much that I’ll throw up - mostly because I’m lazy and down want to have to clean. But as we were all at home, I figured fuck it, lets go out-out. Sometimes you just need to go out and get drunk with some friends. 

three things happened that night that made me hate myself. three things, I don’t think I’ve actually told my friends (both of which are on tumblr and may see this if i don’t mass reblog other things immediately after it), or if i have I’ve played it off. 

the first thing: my choice of outfit. again body issues. and lack of night out clothing. i don’t own any jeans that actually sit on my waist. i have high waisted jeans but unfortunately they always slip down to my hips (under my muffin top). my friends looked gorgeous. i felt like i stood out, but in a really bad way. sure the dress i wore was nice, but it wasn’t anything like the outfits they were wearing; jeans and a fancy top. 

the second thing: dancing on a bar in coyote ugly. i did it because, you only dance on a bar once and they were doing it. i can’t dance. i have zero rhythm in this body. dancing on a bar did nothing to help my self confidence. i felt like everybody was watching me and judging me and it made me want to disappear into my bed and never leave it again. 

and the third thing, also happening in coyote ugly; riding a rodeo bull. sure i’d love to say that i was too drunk to care. but i wasn’t. i was tipsy sure, but not too drunk. the thing that made me hate myself during this section of the night out - i couldn’t even get on the bull. my thick ass thighs kept sticking to the seat of the bull and my weak arms couldn’t pull my fat ass up. Sure I got up eventually, but the embarrassment of not being able to get on a rodeo bull was enough to completely slam dunk my self esteem into a trash can and into a bottomless pit. so that was fantastic. 

concerning the weekend with my family; i found myself crying in the bathroom silently before we went to cardiff because i wanted to dress up nice because we were going to a nice steakhouse, but my problems with my body just made me want to hide under a big baggy jumper. 

and i did. i found my biggest, baggiest jumper and i hid in it, because I couldn’t stand to see my disgusting body in something vaguely form fitting. no one commented on it, no one cared, but i did. and to be honest, i think it ruined my birthday.

and thats so sad, that such a small insignificant thing could ruin a while day. but it did. and to me it didn’t feel like a small, insignificant thing. it felt like a huge weight on my shoulder, drowning me completely. it also impacted my relationship with my boyfriend. he noticed that i haven’t been texting him as much as i usually do (not that im crazy, i just like to know how his day is going) and when we were conversing I was barely responding and being quite distant. and i hate it that that’s a thing i do; isolating myself to deal with my problems. i’m better now. i talk to him as much as i used to do, if not slightly less because i have nothing to do at the moment and there’s no point texting him for a cuddle because i’m not anywhere near each other for that instant gratification.

there have been many a night this summer where i have depersonalised (link here for those who want to know more) because of these issues, and its so hard to pull myself out of that floaty feeling. I’m better at it now than I used to be, but it’s still so hard. 

i’ve had so many things i need to do in preparation for third year of uni but these episodes of depersonalisation have really stood in the way of actually doing that. i’ve got photos of a mutual that i need to retouch and send back to her but i can’t pick up the energy to sit at my laptop and do that work because i feel disconnected to part of my body. 

and knowing she’ll read this, she’ll say just send them over to me un-edited; but the nit-picky, perfectionist part of my brain refuses to let me do that. i can’t send them to you because these aren’t perfect. they aren’t right. i can’t send them because this stray hair is out of place or this photo isn’t quite correctly exposed and sure, it seems trivial but it isn’t to me. 

i went to a convention this past weekend; asylum steampunk in lincoln. i was helping my mum sell her books, occasionally assisting a photographer and his team, and running around taking photos. it was an odd convention; i felt as though i’d both done a lot and nothing at the same time. usually i feel so tired after a multiple day convention that i need a four day nap to catch up. but i was actually okay. 

i learned a lot about myself at that convention. firstly, i oddly like talking to people and selling books. sure it’s hella tiring for just sitting behind a stall and occasionally selling a product. but chatting to people was actually really nice. my family tend to stick to ourselves. for welsh people (y’know that stereotype that welsh people never shut up) we don’t tend to socialise much, and networking is not our strongest asset. 

the other thing i, well i guess i re-learned; photographing people at conventions for fun is actually fun. For the past three or four conventions i’ve been to - comic, gaming and steampunk - i’ve always been thinking about how i can use the photos as a series for university. but this time; i wasn’t thinking about that. i wasn’t caring if the background was any good, or if the lighting was perfect. i was just taking the photos. and it was so relaxing and fun. it wasn’t work.

for three of the four days we were at that convention, i got into the spirit and i dressed up for it. One of the outfits, that was sort of like a steampunk-y mechanic was a wide-full leg jumpsuit that my mum and i made together a few weeks before. i tracked half of my journey of that on twitter, (the bits i did, the cutting the fabric etc - my mum actually sewed the whole thing together- though i did give her a shoutout on twitter for all her hardwork). I actually really enjoyed wearing that outfit (mostly because the pockets were s o b i g), for the other two days i went slightly more piratey, wearing striped brown and black l=pants and a flowey striped white shirt one day and a light lace skirt and off the shoulder top on the other. that skirt, i don’t know why i don’t wear it more often (aside from the fact it doesn’t fit any outfits i have and i’ll look like an idiot wearing it anywhere other than a convention) because i think i look so good in it (baring in mind the lack of body positivity i have, this is a big deal).

the other thing that i’ve been doing this summer is i’ve been getting into make-up and even fashion i guess, trying to learn how to do that stuff (man it’s hard, why didn’t i start earlier). make-ups not so much of a problem in what i’m about to talk about, but watching fashion videos on youtube is rather annoying when you’re an average to slightly above average weight. I’ve not found (until today, the videos i’m watching right now as i write this) any youtubers that are fashion related that are anywhere near the shape/weight that i am. They’re either super skinny waifs who can fit into anything they want (and like that one i saw, saying that a size fourteen is a great size for oversized clothing - bitch please, stop) or plus size and self confident with those curves in the right places and much bigger than i can relate to. not that there’s a problem with either, there’s just not as much representation for the ‘average’ person. there probably is and i just haven’t found it (currently watching lucy wood) and i need to look better into it. i can guarantee that is definitely the case. but still i’d love youtube to recommend those youtubers to me please.

something that i did realise from the steampunk weekend was that i was so busy ‘working’ if you can call it that, that i forgot to eat the crap that i usually eat during the day, and i guess i forgot to drink water (which is not a good thing, drink water kids). but the main thing is not eating crap all day, paired with the amount of walking i did that weekend (almost 30,000 steps over four days) has actually made me lose half a stone since the last time i weighed myself at the end of july. (so i’m very pleased about this) 

so sure, while third year is going to be so, so stressful, i’m making steps towards feeling better about myself and making sure i do 5-10 thousand steps a day and not eat as much crap as i usually do, but most importantly; learning to love myself and my body. 

oh my god this post is so long. i’m so sorry anyone who reads all this. 

tl,dr: the month of august has been depressing, body issues galore and i’m probably being ridiculous but i’m trying to get better.

#ty talks trash #mental health #body positivity #body issues #depersonalisation #me #personal #a talk about me #i've cried basically the whole time writing this #honestly it's taken like an hour and a half #longer than i usually spend on essays for uni #pouring your heart out to strangers is hard #but not as hard as telling your family that you spent most of summer crying about my bod #body #long post #sorry #warning #no punctuation #this is my brain #it's probably disconnected #props to you if you read it all and not get bored #or tired #or depressed #or you don't cry #yep #done #i am tired now