#obviously that doesn't help at all. people can tell & then think your way of transactional friendship applies the other way around as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acewithapaintbrush · 2 years

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Happy Encanto Milk Day 🥛🥛🥛❤️

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"Laughter is all you need. Laughter is life. Laughter is love. Just laugh and you'll forget all your worries."

Bruno scoffs. Loudly.

The split in the mountains has brought many new and interesting things to the Encanto. Modern marvels that Bruno has only ever seen in visions before.

But something about their community also seems to attract very weird and eccentric individuals. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. A lot of them fit right in with the weird and eccentric villagers (and with the Madrigals, even though most of the Madrigals vehemently deny having anything in common with the weird and eccentric even though they are the most weird and eccentric around for miles) and enrich the community quite nicely.

Not this one though. This one obviously doesn't want to enrich anything but his own wallet.

The middle aged man is dressed in a long, flowy robe made out of satin and his hair is gelled back with so much oil that it glitters in the sunshine. The smile on his face is so wide it can only be fake. He has positioned himself in the middle of the plaza, standing on a shoebox and calling out to the gathered crowd, claiming to want to help them find the way to true happiness.

The little hat for 'donations' next to the shoebox tells Bruno all he needs to know about this guy's intentions.

True happiness indeed.

The man has heard Bruno and immediately spots him in the crowd. He hops down from his shoebox and walks towards the Madrigal with a weird glint in his eyes. Mirabel, who has accompanied Bruno into the village, grabs her uncle's sleeve. She doesn't pull him away, but Bruno can tell that she readies herself to do so at the first sign of danger. So protective, his brave little Mariposa.

"Ah, the prophet." The man simpers. "I have heard of you. Say, why would you try to look into the future when all you need for true happiness is a smile upon your face? I can teach you to way to true illumination and greatness."

"You know what would bring me true happiness? Watching your back as you leave this valley. No one is buying your nonsense. Literally by the way, since the Encanto hasn't used money for transactions in years. So why don't you pack your things and go?"

The man is visibly taken aback by the money thing. He inconspicuously takes a look at the empty hat. Well, not quite empty. Some kids have thrown buttons into it and someone else seems to have relieved themselves of empty candy wrappers. A sneer works its way onto the man's face, but he is an actor, much like Bruno. Soon he is smiling again and throwing his arms wide.

"Oh, but friend! I'm not doing this for monetary gain. I just want to bring a smile to people's faces. A smile is all you need to make your problems go away."

Bruno crosses his arms. The crowd watches them with baited breath.

"I'm sure you can think of other means to get paid, can't you? Doesn't matter though, a laugh is not all you need to make your worries go away." Bruno would know. Mirabel squeezes his arm. "And telling impressionable young people otherwise is dangerous."

"A man burdened by the future. You probably don't have much to laugh about, don't you?" Bruno's hackles rise at the condescending tone. "Ah, but I know. How about a little bet? A milk drinking contest. We both drink milk and try to make the other one laugh. Who laughs first loses. If it's me, I'll leave. If it's you, you have to admit that laughter really is the best medicine. What do you say?"

Mirabel snorts and shakes her head. "That is the most ridiculous idea I've ever-"

"Let's do it!" Bruno interrupts.

"Excellent! Someone get us some milk!" The man shouts and rushes towards his little pack next to his shoebox.

Mirabel gapes at her uncle. "Tio Bruno! Why would you agree to that?"

Bruno smiles absent-mindedly. Because, you see, dear reader? The only reason Bruno would ever willingly agree to such an asinine bet is rather simple.

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This will make at least a tiny bit of sense if you are familiar with Mob Psycho 100. If not... *throws this at you and runs*

#encanto milk day #milk day #Encantomilkday #Happy milk day #encanto #bruno madrigal #encanto fanfic #disney encanto #I shamelessly stole this from that mob psycho episode #Well not completely #But you get the gist #Snarky Bruno is snarky

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constellationcrowned · 8 months

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((I want everyone to keep something in mind in regards to this blog and this is going to sound like a general, common sense post (and in a way it is) but it's also hi I'm in your house, whispering into your ear, telling you to call ga//amestop and ask them if they have bat//tleto//ads---, blah blah, basically it's personal too:

With me, regardless of blog or content, both communication and engagement go hand in hand. Communication and engagement needs to go both ways.

I love posting and reblogging memes and calls and will continue to do so but you folks---old mutual or new mutual doesn't matter---need to take the initiative yourself sometimes too. Be enthusiastic. Be spontaneous. Be proactive. I don't want to ask people to write with me all of the damn time nor do I want to chase after people all of the time because if I have to do that constantly over and over again it starts feeling incredibly one sided even when it isn't (because ofc people have lives, specific interests, anxiety, and whatever else which are all things that I deal with myself and I understand how that can stop someone from doing something, but that's how it feels especially over an extended period of time) and I don't need to explain how disheartening and draining that can be.

My seeming to interact with only one person---and for both of my blogs it's @magioffire and we all know that---it's not because we're being stuck up, elitist or whatever inane and incorrect term people want to throw at our feet it's because we engage and communicate. The give and take between us (both from an ic and ooc standpoint) never feels imbalanced or even transactional (I really hate using that word but, again I gotta stress this, that's how this makes me feel) and I have never felt like I needed to chase them down for an interaction or had to fight for a scrap of their time---which feels like a feat bc Blair has a lot of people scrambling at their door---and I cannot tell you how huge that is. That sounds like a huge sweeping thing to say, I know, but I mean it in all of the little ways too. I could post some stupid bullshit on here; not a starter or a meme just a little random muse thought or observation, and 100% of the time here comes Blair telling me what they think or adding on to it or just...whatever. They're here for both me and my muses for the big and small things, whenever I've asked and, more often than not, when I haven't (or couldn't) and that's incredibly important. It's that kind of stuff that makes what we have special and that's putting it super lightly. And yes, our relationship both as friends and as writers has developed over a long time, and we did click immediately that's true, but there's never been any doubt to cast upon the work and effort both of us have put forth.

And this post isn't to say that I'm demanding constant or immediate attention from you all---because, again, we all have lives, health issues, etc, etc, and all of that takes precedence over a hobby as I've said before and will say again and again---but....put some effort into it when you have the capability. Yes, like the calls that I post or send a meme in, absolutely, but also message me on your own and ask a question or shoot a muse a random prompt or just @ me in a post. Show me some enthusiasm and engagement on your end because right now it feels like I'm doing all the work all of the time and that's tiring. I'm tired of handing stuff to people all of the time---I'll keep doing it, obviously, because I need and want to engage on my end and love throwing stuff at people and providing opportunities---all I'm asking for is understanding and reciprocation.

If you can't reciprocate for whatever reason? Tell me.

If you're unsure about something, no matter what that something is? Tell me.

If you need help or even a specific kind of accommodation in order for us to start interacting or continue interacting? Tell me.

Don't just assume that I don't want to write with you or that you can't ask me for things. Don't assume that I'm being a snob or whatever else just because I seem to be paying attention to a certain mun full time because do you know what that actually is? That's friendship. That's effort. That's me giving back what I've been given. That's me reciprocating the enthusiasm, love and creativity that I've been handed, nothing more. There's nothing unobtainable or gatekeep-y about that either, you just need to be earnest and forthcoming with me and I can assure you that I'll return the favor in kind.))

#;;ooc: mun muttering #long post #this isn't a guilt trip of any sort (it doesn't even feel right calling it a vent tbh) I'm just being earnest in my point here #I'm tired of constantly pulling teeth (and this is an issue for both old and new mutuals rather than one over the other)#it just....doesn't feel good. there shouldn't be this much of a struggle for *any* of us #and are we all going to end up on the same level as what I have with Blair? No absolutely not and that's not what I'm asking for #the difference between them and you all is the lack of struggle and just...the earnestness to put it mildly #I'm honestly tired of people trying to give me shit for writing w/ them so much because??? why wouldn't I???#getting mad because I'm having a blast with someone who wants to write with me and actually does/tells me? that's nothing to be jealous of!#in fact you should strive for it yourself!! you could have it all too if you just crawled out of your own hole and thought for a second #I am incredibly fucking lucky and blessed to write with Blair; they've greatly influenced me both as a person and as a writer;#and every day I return that kindness and attention with more (hopefully) great content regardless of what or who we're writing #because they do the exact same thing for me every single day and that should be celebrated #stop wasting time trying to pit people against each other or feeling left out and actually step in yourself #I've said this before and I'll say it again: the main thing holding you back from interacting with me is you #so think about it and just...get over whatever is telling you that you can't and just do the fuckin thing. come have fun

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angrelysimpping · 3 years

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im SCREAMING , i feel bad for even reading the ones under “hate them” (except for bailey, he gets extra love out of SPITE)

but also i cackle at the thought of instead of the pc crying, the LIs get to listen to you go through the rollercoaster of emotions of a crush. screaming into pillows, vaguely daydreaming about them every minute of every day sort of crush. of “im worried about them as a FRIEND” to “nonono i cant be in love with THEM” to “shit, my buddy animal pal, ive got a crush” to finally being quiet and crying because yeah you love them but they’re still missing and if the option is for them to be hurt or avoiding you, you obviously hope it’s the latter for their safety, but goddamn if it doesn’t hurt to think it’s that :(

😢 oh nooooo

Worrying that Alex got yoinked by Remy. Telling your pet about how you're tempted to get yourself sent to the underground farm, just so you'll know if they're there and need your help. But you won't. You can't leave your little animal friend alone. It's all Alex can do not to freak out over what you're saying. It doesn't even register that you're crying about how you love them for a while.

It's strange for Avery, sitting on your lap (or perched on your shoulder, if we're going with pretty birdie Avery) as you cry about how the businessperson is avoiding you. How you know the relationship is transactional, how you know that their feelings for you aren't the same as your feelings for them, but it still hurts that they're avoiding you. They can't help but feel a little proud of how deeply they've affected you.

Shut the fuck up, you do not like Bailey. They don't care if they watched your slow process of going "I'm worried about the orphanage" to "I hope nothing bad happened to them" to "I actually kinda like them" to "Oh my god I really like them" to "Fuck me, I think I'm in love with the bastard and they've dropped off the face of the earth. What if someone hurt them?" They don't care! They don't! You're delusional if you think you actually care for them because there is no way you actually care for them. And they don't care about you! They're sitting in your lap so you stop crying because it's annoying, and that's the only reason.

Eden is conflicted. They're watching you come to the realization that you need them, love them, even. And they like that. But you also think they've abandoned you, maybe even died. You're crying. They know they shouldn't feel as good as they do that you're crying over them. They can't help it, though.

When you say you love them, Kylar swears their heart almost stops. They'd been trying to comfort themself being just your friend. If you'll let them be near you, maybe they could live with that. But you love them? Love! That's all Kylar wants. They try to cheer you up as you cry, even if there's a warmth growing in their chest that you're worried about them.

Robin was already feeling guilty about causing you stress when you referred to them as your missing best friend. Now, you've come to the realization that you might love them. That you're worried something happened to them. That you know they would never avoid you, but you hope they are for their own safety. Robin is going to try everything they can to comfort you, even though they feel like crying themself.

Sydney knows you think of them as a friend, you're one of the few people who talk to them, after all. They may think of you in different terms, but they're happy with just being your friend. Then you confess that you might have a crush on them, that you're distraught at the thought that they're avoiding you, and they want to cry. You like them too! They really like you, they would never avoid you! They don't want you to cry!

Your relationship with Whitney is a strange one. They're an asshole, but you don't hate them. You're even worried about them when they go missing. As time goes on, you come to the realization that you actually have feelings for the bully. Sharing your discovery with your pet while you hold them and cry leaves Whitney reeling. Whitney is not good with their own emotions, let alone other people's.

You know Wren can take care of themself. You've seen them do all kinds of wild things without getting hurt. They're fine. They have to be. But they work with Remy. Remy. You know what goes on behind that fence, and you can't help but worry Wren somehow got in too deep. The only reason you haven't gone looking for them, intentionally gotten yourself put back into Remy's care, is because you don't want to leave your new pet at Bailey's mercy. Wren's trying to cheer you up, distract you from their disappearance, and pointedly ignoring the part where you said you had feelings for them.

#alex the farmhand #avery the businessperson #eden the hunter #bailey the caretaker #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #sydney the faithful #whitney the bully #wren the smuggler #animal au

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girlpornparadise · 4 years

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The Caged Bird Moans (pt 1)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~2600

Warnings: It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

I also wrote all this nonsense a week ago before I read anything from the lovely @1zashreena1 , @heresathreebee or @nicke0115 so sorry if it looks similar, I swear it's a coincidence.

"Ouch", you think to yourself but instead swallow the pain. Your arm hurts under the firm grasp of the thug dragging you from the elevator into the spacious penthouse.

"Be careful with that." Says a commanding voice from across the room.

The grip loosens, but he's still using your momentum to force you forward. You stumble, unsure of just how much danger you are in.

As you take in your surroundings the owner of the voice turns around and approaches you. He looks you up and down, examining you like a prize he had won.

"We can't afford to damage her." He states plainly, looking at the man still holding you in place.

As he examines you, you examine him right back. Whereas he is doing it in an obvious way, head nodding to rake his eyes over you, you move your eyes only, unable to control your body in this moment. You follow the carefully polished boots up past the fitted black jeans to the black buttoned up shirt with the slight sheen to it, that accentuates his frame. Everything is obviously expensive and very deliberately chosen. As your eyes settle on his face, a recognization dawns on you. Diego Jimenez. One of the heads of the Jiminez cartel. His reputation was well known to you. An unstable, merciless man whose penchant for partying made him a big name in certain circles. You were scared before, but now your body goes rigid with fear and your gaze hits the floor with force.

Though you're no longer looking at him directly you can sense his smugness and satisfaction at knowing you are now showing the appropriate amount of fear for the situation you're in. Maybe it's your hind brain telling you you are in the presence of an apex predator. Maybe it was the clipped snort he let out, tinged with amusement as he nodded with approval.

After what feels like an eternity, but was probably mere seconds, he speaks again.

"Take her to the guest room." He orders the man still firmly gripping your arm. "Lock this little bird in her cage."

Dragging you again, this time down the hall, Diego's orders are followed to completion. You are practically thrown into the room as the door slams shut behind you.

You stumble, catching yourself on the bed. You collapse onto it as tears prick your eyes and subsequently fall down your cheeks. You begin to sob, but muffle it in the covers, assuming someone is standing guard outside and not wanting to seem even weaker in such an intense situation. But the tears flow freely as the shock of what's happened slowly wears off and you begin to process the details of your abduction.

You hadn't grown up in this world, though your ties to it were strong. You were part of the Bennet family, a rival cartel, headed by your grandfather. He insisted you grow up distanced from this world. A world of violence and cruelty. A world of drugs and guns and transactions ending in death. Based on your current reaction, you couldn't help but think maybe it was because you're so weak. Both you and he knew it was true, you were too soft to be a part of the business, too kind to do what would be required of you. So he kept you away, from his city and his dealings and all of the darkness that came with it.

You were in town for a rare family visit when you were taken without warning, snatched from the street at gunpoint. They were able to do it without drawing attention, entirely professional, and you complied with their every demand as a sense of terror ripped through you.

And now here you were, trapped by a barbarous stranger who could end your life at any moment without a second thought.

As you wore yourself out from crying, you began to take in the room, determined to get your bearings. It was sparsely decorated, obviously the work of a man unattached. It was also immaculately clean, obviously the work of his maid. As your breathing slows and your senses sharpen, you become aware that the comforter you are still on top of is plush and expensive, like the kind found at a swanky hotel.

Curiosity returning with your senses, you walk over to the window that stretches from floor to ceiling and take in the impressive view of the city. If the long elevator ride weren't a clear enough indicator, the view tells you that you are in the penthouse of a very upscale building.

Next to the window is a large bathroom and you walk in. You splash cold water on your face and dry it on one of the plush towels. You can't help be momentarily amused by how well stocked the room is with soaps and lotions. There were definitely worse places to be trapped. Was this the definition of a gilded cage?

As you settle down, you take off your shoes and sit back down on the bed. You're exhausted to your core, and you sink into the mattress, wanting to disappear. You want to keep your wits about you, alert and on guard, but instead the stress combined with the late hour forces you to sleep.

You are woken up abruptly the following morning when the door swings open and you are literally dragged out of bed by the same man as yesterday.

You're a bleary eyed, rumpled mess and the same fear and pain shoot through you as you remember where you are and how you got there. Your breathing is shallow as you try not to panic.

You've been dragged before Diego who is standing imposingly before you, hands clasped in front of him, chin slightly upward so he can look down his nose at you.

He examines you once more and you can tell he's disgusted by what he sees.

"Get our guest something to wear." He barks. "And get her something to eat. We can't bargain if she's broken."

As he turns away from you to resume whatever you interrupted, you catch the flash of the gun in his waistband and the fear settles once again in the pit of your stomach.

You are escorted back to the room forcefully and your mind is racing. You know everyone who comes through the penthouse is armed to the teeth and there's no chance of escape. You're not just weak, you're helpless. You assume you're being held for some kind of ransom, probably territory or resources as opposed to money, and you silently pray that a deal for your release is struck quickly so this nightmare can be over.

Soon after, the door opens and a housekeeper enters carrying a couple of bags of clothes. She doesn't look you in the eye and you wouldn't know what to say to her anyway.

Once she has left, you rummage through the clothes. There's nothing there you'd pick for yourself, but you settle on a white fitted t-shirt and jeans. You carry them with you into the bathroom along with a handful of drugstore makeup you find in the bottom of the bag.

You look at yourself in the mirror and the reason for Diego's revulsion becomes clear. Your clothes are wrinkled and creased and your mascara is smudged under your eyes. You lock the bathroom door behind you, strip down and take a shower. The running water calms you and once you finish you get dressed and approximate your normal makeup routine with what you have. If you're going to put on a brave front, you need to be as put together as possible.

When you emerge from the bathroom a tray of breakfast is waiting on the nightstand next to the bed. Eggs sunny side up and toast, simple and straightforward. You devour it greedily since you haven't eaten since lunch yesterday.

The day passes with 2 more meals brought to you by the same housekeeper at the appropriate intervals. In the absence of your phone, you distract yourself with mindless TV on the rather large set opposite the bed. You don't take in much as you think about your predicament and then try to force those thoughts of the worst case scenario from your mind.

Your sleep that night is restless.

You are brought before Diego once again in the morning, shortly after you wake.

This time you are allowed to walk under your own power, though your legs feel wobbly and your feet unsure as you approach him.

You're wearing a cotton t-shirt and shorts, the closest thing you could find to pajamas. As he looks at you, you become painfully aware that you're not wearing underwear, his eyes seeming to stop at all the places where it should be.

You are at least able to look at him and take in more this time. He's clad in a similar black button up shirt and black jeans as yesterday, a uniform of sorts to convey his status. His hair is neatly cut and accentuates his angles, sharp jaw and well placed cheekbones. His greying facial hair gives him some earned distinction and his expression is hard and deliberate to elicit a specific reaction of fear. Through the careful tailoring of his shirt you can see that his body is sturdy and muscular. His tense posture using his frame to his advantage, making him seem larger than he actually is. You know to fear him, but he may be the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life.

He obviously cultivates an aura of power, and you can't help but be drawn to him as an Alpha Male. As you steel yourself, you dare to look him in the eyes. His eyes are cold but impossibly magnetic and you can't look away. He's looking back at you now, into you. Your heart forgets how to beat in rhythm and you swallow thickly.

He sees your fear and is clearly amused by it.

"Breakfast will be ready soon. You should go take a shower." He says, his lips curling upwards.

"I, I was going to." you stammer.

"Good girl." It comes out as almost a purr and sends a shiver down your spine.

This time it's Diego, not his associate who accompanies you back to the bedroom. His hand is hovering above the small of your back, ushering you forward while maintaining a small distance. You enter the room and the lock clicks behind you.

You turn to see that he's still in the room and with his gaze set upon you, you begin to back away towards the bathroom, afraid to turn your back on him. This was clearly his intended effect.

You expect him to leave, but he's doing the opposite. He is stalking forward. Your heart is pounding out of your chest and your uneven breathing becomes gulping for air.

As he closes the gap between your bodies, he repeats his suggestion. "You should go take a shower." It's not a suggestion though, it's a command.

He leans in. "Go on." His lips are close enough to your ear that his breath catches in your hair.

His thick body is now urging you through the bathroom doorway by its approach. You back through it, still transfixed by his gaze.

You glance side eyed to your left at the shower that takes up the far wall. It's one of those large walk-in showers with a stone floor and a rain showerhead. It suddenly seems less like a shower and feels more like a trap about to spring shut.

"Take off your clothes." He says. He's not asking.

You gulp, your eyes have gone wide at the demand.

"Take. Off. Your. Clothes." He repeats in a tone that is both amused and losing patience. He raises his eyebrows slightly as he says it.

You look away, ashamed, and slowly and nervously acquiesce. You stand before him completely naked and try to avert your gaze. You are drawing your body inward, trying to conceal yourself in any way you can.

"Turn on the water." he says with his wicked smile widening.

You turn on the shower and wait for it to warm. It dawns on you that there's no shower curtain to protect you or glass wall to hide behind. You are fully exposed and will remain so.

You step under the water, unsure of what to do next. You'd obviously showered hundreds of times, but this wasn't a shower. It was a show.

"Wash yourself." His voice is quieter, more of a harsh whisper.

You grab a washcloth and pump the foaming body wash onto it. You rub it on the back of your neck and slowly work your way down to your shoulders. Your nerves have subsided a little as the water washes over your skin.

He's mesmerized by the motion of your hands and you drag the washcloth across your collarbones and down to your breasts, where you languidly rub them with the cloth as well as your free hand.

Your nipples harden at your own touch. He notices and his tongue drags over his bottom lip. You close your eyes in an attempt to momentarily escape.

When you open your eyes you notice him shift his weight and catch a glimpse of the shift in his muscles under his shirt. You get a rush as you feel the power dynamic shift slightly. You are slow to rub the washcloth down your legs and you arch your back slightly as you bend over, purposely sticking out your ass more than you naturally would.

His eyes are dark with lust and you can feel the warmth radiating from between your own legs.

"Rub your clit." He says, reclaiming his power.

You look at him with shocked eyes and your eyebrows knit.

"You heard me." he says. "I won't ask again." His head tilting slightly.

You put the washcloth aside and tentatively slide your middle finger between your thighs to your bundle of nerves. You notice how wet you already are and using gentle pressure you begin to rubbing in circles.

You close your eyes and swallow as your walls contract and release. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier until you're panting. Panting and touching yourself for this fixated man.

"Cum for me." He demands. "I need to see you cum."

You think to fake an orgasm. To end this little game he's playing, but it's too late. Your finger presses harder on your clit and you tremble as the real thing rips through you. You close your eyes and cry out with abandon.

When you regain yourself you look at him. You are raw and exposed and at your most vulnerable. His mouth is in a wide smile and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

He reaches out to you, towel in hand. You steady yourself, turn off the water, and take the towel from him. You wrap it around yourself, suddenly panged with shame at how readily you revealed your most intimate self to this menacing stranger. Your posture closes, and reflects your return to shyness.

"Good girl." He says, and you feel the words like honey dripping in your ears.

He turns and leaves, his confident stride drawing your attention to how his jeans hug his perfect behind.

You dry yourself off and as you get to your inner thighs you're reminded of how wet you are. How wet you are for him. You want to blame the shower, but you know the truth. You're spellbound by this man, and god are you in trouble.

#maurice compte #diego jimenez #starz power #fic #smut #moar diego #moar growly murder panther

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ixeliema · 5 years

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Okay this is going to be pretty personal and potentially triggering so I'm leaving that here at the top. I'm going to be discussing depression and self harm here and I will tag accordingly. I will not be specific or speak of it in detail because a lot of people read posts like these at their lowest points and it does nothing but hurt already very troubled people to read.

These bubbles are covering an injury I inflicted upon myself at work today after my manager called me in to a meeting with him to speak about the amount of missed days of work I'd taken in the last two-three weeks.

How it happened doesn't matter. The only context you need for it is that I missed four days due to a contagious illness and one day due to a stomach bug that had me physically unable to leave the bathroom. I work long hours and in my store's home department. I work hard and never do things 80% or lower at work and it's exhausting at times.

Well...yesterday I had a panic attack that lasted for almost four hours and knew I couldn't work in this state. I had been curling into a ball, screaming, sobbing, (tw) pulling my hair.

I called in and my manager told me we'd need to talk about my missed days. Fine. I accept that. Today I dreaded the inevitable call back and when it happened he told me that two of my customers had filed complaints on me within two days last week.

One I will admit is justified. He was talking about gun issues and complaining that retail stores should sell guns, meanwhile I am from a college that was shot up and I am fucking terrified of guns. I don't mind not selling them. Especially in light of El Paso recently.

The other was a lady who noticed I was sweaty and tired after having to manually enter her discounts for about 25 apparel items because her digital coupon wasn't ringing right and it was a system issue. I had an injury between my fingers at the time and all the typing to fix the prices was pulling apart my scab and I had begun to bleed through my bandage. At the end of the transaction, she made eye contact with me and asked "I'm sorry...are you IRRITATED with me?" I don't remember exactly what I said but I said something like "no ma'am I'm bleeding". Well apparently 'no' means I'm still a bitch who needed reported to her manager.

The first...fine. I was out of line there. I shouldn't have let him goad me on. But the second pisses me off. Not happy because three strikes on my record is cause for termination due to disregard for customer satisfaction. This sucks a lot. But then my manager talks about my missed days and why they happened. I mentioned my sicknesses and cited a literal rule (if you are contagious or having issues with bodily fluids don't come in" at him. Yesterday I told him my situation. I was unable to breathe. See. Anything. I cited my mental illness and told him it was very bad yesterday. He kind of brushed me off. (Which in itself fucking infuriates me bc mental health isn't a goddamn joke!)

Then he told me to evaluate myself and whether or not this job is right for me. I also have a physical injury and I require a brace. Even with it sometimes I have sore days and pain that I can't control due to walking about four to five miles a day at work. It sucks but with the brace I can survive. I need this job to live after all, and I don't mind the coworkers or the job itself. It just sucks when I'm working 48 hours in a row with a lot of mental and physical barriers to my success.

He told me to my face that if I didn't feel I was capable of doing the job to quit. And then he told me he needed someone "more reliable" for the position because of the business' needs.

I kind of broke at that point. And I blacked out into a relapse of my self harm after the meeting was through. I pride myself on two things: my sense of humor even in dark times (comes with the territory of mental illness), and the fact that I strive to be reliable. My manager telling me to my face that I wasn't reliable broke me.

See I would be more understanding if he hadn't just told me that five of my six missed days were perfectly acceptable. But after he learned of the last one amd why he kind of shifted gears. And I hated it very much.

He's worked for x corporation nearly 20 years and no one will question his authority. He works hard and is pretty good with his workers. Honestly he's a little sexist and clearly doesn't think mental illnesses are a big deal, but he's good at what he does. So hearing an authority figure (the type of person I've learned to fear because I'm never good enough) tells me I'm not one of the qualities I fucking FIGHT for...I broke.

But this story isn't why I wanted to post it. Yeah I could rant about the rude manager and the customers and that dumb "customer is always right" mentality (which they could prove wrong if they just looked up the security footage for the rude lady!)

No I'm here because when I got home from working 2-11...bordering tears and panic all day and sweatier than anyone living in Arizona right now...I hopped in the bath for a soak and to give myself time to heal from the long arduous day.

My mind has been full of intrusive thoughts about my worth and how I broke my streak of being clean from self harm and how that makes me a coward. That kind of joyous stuff.

I sat up to get my phone to text my friend and saw that my knee (where my injury is) was covered in bubbles.

I don't know why...but that means a lot to me right now. Like...I'm taking care of myself after probably the worst day I've had since my dad died. I'm taking time to heal. I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my soul after a long and painful day. And it felt like for a moment, the universe understood that looking at my wound hurt me as much as the wound itself hurt. It wanted me to not dwell on it.

Obviously this isn't a magic "I'm no longer depressed" moment but for me, seeing the bubbles...a sign (at least to me) of trying to take care of myself masking the pain of my depression and anxiety.

Today has been a very tough day for me with a lot of manic episodes and a lot of depressive ones, and though I can wear the face that I'm okay...it cracked a lot today and I let my ugly side seep out. And seeing the bubbles covering my wound I deadass cried about it, y'all.

This tells me that even on your worst days, taking care of yourself and trying to find time to recover can help you to heal. And I wanted to post this because I think this story might help someone. Even just one person. Maybe even just myself someday when out of the blue I check my (very small) tag for original posts.

The TLDR of this is that this occurence kind of showed me that taking care of yourself...even in tiny, seemingly insignificant ways, can really help you to not dwell on pain as much.

And before someone hijacks this and says this won't apply to everyone...I know. But I hope someone sees this image of bubbles on a goddamn kneecap and thinks to themselves that they ought to take better care of themselves after a bad day. After a relapse. After feeling so defeated you considered suicide. Consider healing. Consider trying to help yourself, even just in one small way.

That's about all I have to say other than "fuck I work the next three days and I'm not stoked to go fake a smile as a cashier for 27 more hours even if I'm being paid"

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fictional-scenarios · 7 years

Note

scenario where reader has a crush on toshinori and doesn't know he's all might, and accidentally admits to all might she has a crush on him?

THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT -mod cassie

It all had happened so fast; one minute you’re as happy as can be, grocery bags full of ingredients on your arms, and the next you’re thrown roughly to the ground and are suddenly looking up into the eyes of a very pissed off villain. They towered over you, their shadow engulfing you and leaving you feeling like an ant compared to their size. There wasn’t much of an everlasting shape, it’s body a mass of black color morphing and rolling over itself. Three eyes poked up from the top of it, and those eyes were staring right down at you.

You couldn’t even move, finding it hard with the blinding sun to meet the villain’s gaze directly. Around you, you could hear gasping and varying shouts from other pedestrians trying to leave the scene, some pushing through the crowds to come closer and watch the events unfold.

A vague shape of a limb slid out from the villain’s glob-like body, fingers protruding from the makeshift fist. You turned your face, body tensing while you waited for impact.

Instead of a life ending blow you felt an arm wrap around your waist, heaving you up off the group and tossing you effortlessly over a broad shoulder. Once again the speed of the event was head spinning and you barely grasped being moved a few yards away until suddenly your feet were planted steadily on the ground and you were looking up at the one, and only, All Might.

“Don’t worry,” he said to you, hands on your shoulders to keep you upright. “I’m here.” With his size he blocked the sun, the glow cascading around him like a solar eclipse, and then he was gone again.

You were on the opposite side of the street and in a flash he was back at the monster, yelling his famous move, and then blasting the villain into literal pieces that stuck to the ground and walls of the surrounding buildings. Thankfully, none of the substance landed on you, but it did land on a pedestrian who made a quick effort to wipe the goop off.

All Might lingered for a moment or two and you watched in awe as he went from tearing a villain to picking up the things that had scattered all around the cement from your grocery bags. Before you knew it he was right in front of you again, that sun making him seem like an angel, holding your grocery bags out in front of him.

“Here you are, Miss!” He said cheerfully. You took them from his large hands, face burning abashedly.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that,” You said nervously. “You already saved my life.”

He gave you a massive thumbs up, his usual bright smile on display. “It’s no problem! Please, if you’d allow me, Miss, let me see to it that you get home safely!”

You blinked up at him. “Th-Thank you so much!” It was like a dream, you were to be escorted to your home by All Might. A few people around you chatted with one another, one child in particular shouting out All Might’s name and cheering when the Hero gave him a thumbs up as well.

Before you could even start to lead the way you felt All Might’s large arm once again pick you up off the ground while he carried you. “Off we go!” He shouted before pushing off his legs, sending the two of you flying into the air. You clung to him and all your grocery bags, eyes squeezed shut as to avoid looking down and seeing how high up you were. The wind blowing in your ears and the fear of falling was enough to distract you from a crucial thought- How did he know where you lived?

“Fear not! I won’t drop you!” All Might said though it barely reached your ears. You just nodded, eyes shut even tighter.

He didn’t drop you, either. It was mere seconds before you were right at your familiar front door, and All Might had set you back down.

“Here we are!”

You set your groceries on the floor and bowed, glad to have your feet touching something again. “Thank you so much, All Might!”

He gave you a thumbs up and placed his hands on his hips, chest puffing out. “It’s a Hero’s duty! By the way Miss, I must ask, you’re carrying an awfully large amount of food! What are you planning on doing with it all?”

It didn’t stick out to you why he even cared in the first place but since he was All Might, he could ask you anything and you’d answer with starry eyes. You did, however, blink a few moments to process his question before jumping, a smile forming on your face as remembering just what you had been bringing home.

“I-I’m actually preparing on making a nice dinner tonight for the guy I’m interested in,” You said, not caring even if you sounded like some schoolgirl in love. Toshinori was an excellent man and you couldn’t not allow yourself to gush a little. “I think I’m going to confess to him tonight.”

You didn’t see how All Might seemed taken aback by this news, too focused on imagining a sweet dinner with Toshinori. “I see,” All Might said, his cheerful voice having just a hint of disappointment. “Well, I must be going now! Good luck on your date tonight!”

When he lept off and sent himself hurdling feet into the air you watched him in awe at just how talented he was, then brought yourself back down to earth, picking up your groceries up bringing them inside.

Now in his smaller form Toshinori sat at his office, sitting on the couch and relaxing from his earlier transaction with a villain and one pedestrian who was particularly special to him. He shouldn’t even have been out when he was, his power already dangerously close to weakening and reverting him, and even taking the time to make sure you were home safely was risky, but he would have been upset with himself if something had happened to you.

Leaning back against the couch and feeling even worse than he had when he first left, he sighed at the ceiling. You were having someone over tonight. He felt happy for you, he did, especially at seeing how happy this person obviously made you. However something was eating at him and left a pretty bad taste in his mouth- he actually had a thing for you, and had for quite some time. All the nights out together, all the time spent together, he had really begun to grow on you. You had no knowledge of his Hero form, however, and seeing you look at him less of a person and more of an Idol felt… Weird. He’d rescued you and you had no knowledge it was even him, and it was likely he’d hear about your rescue the next time you two saw each other.

Toshinori vaguely wondered who it was you would be confessing to. You hadn’t brought up any crushes to him, though perhaps maybe that was a little personal. Still, if you were serious about someone, he should have known about it. He truly hoped this person was good hearted, and would take care of you in the ways he’d love to.

His phone lit up beside him and he eyed it, picking it up when your name came into view. Another troubled sigh left his lip as he prepared to see a text of you telling him your awesome encounter with All Might, but that was not what he was met with. No, instead it was something that made his heart feel like it was fluttering.

“Hey, do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making your favorite!″

For a moment he almost choked on air, re-reading your message over and over again. The dinner, the groceries you’d been hauling, those were for him? Along with the dinner, and the confession?

Suddenly he felt guilty, like he’d ruined the surprise you’d been setting up for him. He knew it was a nosey question but he couldn’t help it seeing how much food you were carrying- your cooking was lovely, and at the time he could only imagine the magic you’d create with that many ingredients. But, they were specially for him.

For the first time in a long time he felt his face heat up, fingers shaking as he frantically typed out a very, very enthusiastic ‘yes’.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #all might #toshinori yagi #all might x reader #request #scenario #mod cassie

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