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#I remember there being like a 60 year old guy who was on the body of a little girl
mcnuggyy · 1 year
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just remembered the fucked up dream I had last night where like 99% of the population switched bodies with somebody else somewhere in the world, BUT you weren’t aloud to talk about it at all or say who you really are or what your actual body looks like or else the government(?) would fucking kill you, like there was cameras watching us at all times, and people getting shot in front of us was common, it was very dystopian… but it was kind of an unspoken fact that almost all the people who were doing the best job at pretending to be people they weren’t were all transgender for some reason?? to the point where a lot of us had found ways to talk about it without talking about it and could bypass the cameras and shit… and the like guy who was all behind it had to get involved eventually…and he like started interviewing some of us and finally once and for all had us talk about who we really were and it was very dramatic and emotional but I woke up like immediately after saying what I looked like and who I was so 🤷🏻 who knows what would have happened next LMAO
#definitley some sort of weird queer horror trans narrative going on#but waking up I was like damn… I was getting misgendered left and right non stop and just had to deal w it#then I was like oh that’s already my existence LMAO#(I was on the body of a very very attractive young blonde woman btw#like MODEL type but I was still unhappy… even being conventionally attractive cause obviously I wasn’t myself#and I can’t even imagine what it would have been like with people experiencing racism for the first time or not experiencing it for the firs#t time… all sorts of wack stuff#I remember there being like a 60 year old guy who was on the body of a little girl#and when they die their bodies switch backed so you would see the like dead old man there instead of the little girl#but I’m not sure what happened to the other person you switched with? like did they die too? would u be responsible for their death?#or would they get to finally live as themselves again?#which would be worse?#idk…#cause then I could see like someone trying to find themself and then try and trick the other person#into talking about it so they could return back to their body#or you would always be on fear that someone out there on the other side of the world could kill you at any moment#NOT TO MENTION THE LANGUAGE BARRIER OF THATS A THING but I think in my dream people just were able to speak the language of the body they#switched into but yeah… anyways <3#very interesting thought experience once again my dreams are always so strange lmao#callate guero
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queenofcoquette · 9 months
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anti-aging: the good and the bad
not to be all “we live in a society” but i’ve noticed that on social media at least, there’s horrible discourse about anti-aging, pushed by beauty companies that pressure people into botox, fixating on their apperance. etc. so i want to talk about the good and the bad- agingin healthily vs. being superficial.
anti aging- the good:
good mobility/flexibility. a lot of older people get injuries due to their lack of mobility and flexibility. as we age we naturally lose these skills, but by working out and staying consistent we can ensure that we’re strong even when we’re older.
healthy diet. younger people usually don’t think too much about their diet, since our bodies just kinda take care of themselves most of the time. but for an older person an unhealthy diet can lead to a whole lot of problems, so it’s important to invest in a good diet that keeps you healthy and happy.
healthy lifestyle. staying active now and when we’re older is another way to stay young, mentally and physically. having good hygeine, having hobbies, things like that. take care of your body, not just for the sake of looking good, but for the sake of feeling good.
staying mentally sharp. another factor to anti-aging is constantly learning. keeping an open mind and being fascinated by things. continuing to learn instead of being stuck on the past.
living life to the fullest. life shouldn’t stop when you turn 60 or whatever. my grandma’s sister is one of the strongest people i know. she lost her son and her husband yet even in her late 70s she volunteers, she went to Hawaii. her life is still fun and she’s surrounded by people she loves!
anti aging- the bad:
fixating on wrinkles. having good skincare and sun protection is important for the health of our skin, but fixating on not having wrinkles can be damaging. certain skin conditions can lead to getting wrinkles younger, or just if your skin is drier or oilier. i’m tired of seeing influencers pushing ‘anti wrinkle straws’ or telling people to smile less. its dumb- we’re all gonna get wrinkles.
fixating on a youthful appearance. we only have a bit of control over how “youthful” you look. like if you have a more angular face and dry skin, you’ll look less youthful then someone with a rounder face and oily skin. there’s no way to control that, so who cares?
what we can do:
stop giving in to these toxic ideas. i see so many girls on TikTok freaking out about wrinkles and all those things. i was scared a while ago cuz when i smile i have tiny lines on the corner of my eye- but i realized everyone my age has those! stop engaging in toxic content.
health over beauty. focus on longevity- working out to be strong in the future, eating good to feel good when we’re older. when you prioritize being healthy you’ll automatically look younger. so you’ll look and feel good- it’s a win win!
keep learning. even when we get older we should always prioritize learning new things and broadening our mind. my grandpa is 83 but he’s still open-minded, he’s willing to hear different political points and that keeps him young.
reflecting. age only brings wisdom if you’re willing to learn and reflect. 
remember that life never loses meaning as old as we are. the people who think life stops being fun when you’re 40 are the people who act old. plenty of people can be old and have fun. i saw a 97ish year old guy who goes to the gym everyday, a 93 year old lady on Instagram celebrating pride and going to parties with her friends. life only stops being fun when we close off our minds.
conclusion:
instead of fearing what we’ll look like in 60 years, let’s think about how we can live our best life 60 years from now. anti-aging should be about health, to live life to the fullest when we’re older, instead of worrying about little things that don’t matter. life is kinda short, so we should make the most of it, and ensure that we can always have fun. we shouldn’t spend our whole lives worrying about wrinkles or living in the delusion that life stops being fun with age. living long is a blessing that we should all use to the best of our ability. life only stops being good when you give up.
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redactahoe · 2 months
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Things I believe are true about babe:
Has a very thick Russian accent and sometimes struggles remembering their English
Forgets certain English words and describes them horribly(ie: spicy plant when referring to a cactus)
Sarcastic as all hell
Really does not understand or care for pack/clan etiquette, like a vamp king said babe should respect their elders and babes deadass response was “why should I respect you when the only thing you’ve done is managed to look like a 2000 years old rotting corpse while only being 60.” Completely dead faced and monotone
Has cans and will call David out for his bullshit
Psychology nerd
Just a nerd in general, they love reading
Has a vast and very large book collection
Only person other than David to be able to rangle Asher in
Besties with darlin, they’re both book nerds(babe and Sam are the only one knows that darlin is a book nerd)
Artist/painter, their sketches mostly come of the pack and of course Asher
Tragic mad scientist vibes(no I won’t elaborate)
Super mysterious/ “this person has a dark and grimy past but you can only get that in subtext”
Loves the supernatural and true crime
Immediately picked up on what Quinn was doing with the whole “hurting the things darlin loves” and called that out at darlins first meeting back
Knows a lot of disturbing things like how to properly dissect and hide a body and where exactly you have to stab someone to hurt but not kill
Poet at heart, they are the theatre kid
Is not scared of David at all or at least now they aren’t. At first they were a little wigged out cause he’s one big dude but now they’ll call him a bitch to his face
Very blunt, doesn’t sugar coat shit
Has an arsenal of violent threats that Asher and the rest of the pack aren’t entirely sure if they’re just threats
Has told somebody who was victim blaming darlin that if they don’t shut tf up babe was going to string their guts up while making listen baby shark on loop
On that same note Chrissy was talking just a little to much shit and they told him they were going to sew all his orifices shut if he didn’t shut himself up
Somehow is the worst under pressure but also works the best under pressure at the same time
Know how to fight
Also knows how to use a sword
Surprisingly a lot of patience(I mean look at who their fiancé is guys)
They’re dad is a very big and intimidating man of few words and their mother is the sweetest women alive
Their like average height but Asher is tall as hell so they look short next to him
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matan4il · 2 months
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Daily update post:
There was a Palestinian terrorist who carried out a shooting attack today, at least 2 people have been murdered and 4 have been injured (at least one, a 16 years old boy, critically). Current reports say they were all civilians standing at a bus station. Witnesses said that the terrorist, who has now been identified as an Arab from East Jeruslem and an Israeli citizen, was sporting an ISIS-styled beard and white cap. An Israeli man (I heard conflicting reports on whether he's a civilian or a reserves soldier) figured out quickly what was happening, got out of his own car, and with his personal pistol managed to neutralize the terrorist (for those who have never dealt with weapons, going up against an assault rifle with a personal pistol is incredibly dangerous, and would usually not be successful given the much greater distance that a rifle can cover. It's pretty astonishing that this man managed to stop the terrorist, save many others, and not get hurt himself).
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Yesterday, I wrote about the Nasser hospital in Khan Younis, and why the IDF had to enter it (the hostages and kidnapped bodies Hamas held there). I also heard in an intereview that at least 60 terrorists were arrested there, and today we get the news that out of them, at least 20 arrested terrorists are Hamas members who had personally participated in the Oct 7 massacre.
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Yesterday, I heard more than one Israeli journalists wondering why is the UN not picking up humanitarian aid that was allowed into Gaza by Israel. One option is pure incompetence, but another option they brought up is that the UN might be intentionally trying to worsen the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, to prove how much their presence is needed, and to use the crisis as a weapon against Israel, to force it to stop its war against Hamas. According to field reports, the aid which has not been picked up is the content of at least 500 aid trucks (Israel has been allowing 200 aid trucks from Israeli territory into Gaza daily, on top of the aid entering from Egypt, and it's the aid from Israel that hasn't been picked up), so yesterday, that was the third day in a row that the UN has failed to pick up specifically the aid being brought in from Israel's territory. Here's a pic of the undelivered aid, on TV I also saw video footage, and it's incredibly frustrating not to be able to find it anywhere online...
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We got confirmation yesterday, that a man who was eliminated in Gaza City the day before by the IDF, was a Hamas commander, specifically the head of a squad that kidnapped men and women from the Nova music festival, and the man in charge of guarding 19 years old Noa Marziano, who was murdered by Hamas in captivity, on the grounds of the Shifa hospital.
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Here's footage of a dog serving in Oketz (the IDF's canine unit) in Gaza. A terrorist threw explosives at an Israeli soldier, wounding him, the dog identified the hiding place of the terrorists, caught him, and got the man to shout in Arabic, "I surrender." I knew guys who served in Oketz, I know they raised and trained the dogs, loved them like family, and I even sat with one guy an entire night when he needed to unload his pain over his dog when she was killed in action. The soldiers who serve in Oketz wanted to clarify that they never send their dogs on suicide missions, that they see the dogs as soldiers in every respect, so they have risked their lives to get their dogs out of the line of fire, I remember seeing a wounded dog being carried by the guys from the unit on a stretcher, and the dogs also get a salary and pension for when they retire from their service, often they're adopted by the soldiers who served with them. In this vid, you can see how using the dog saves human lives, both those of soldiers, and that of the terrorist, who gets the chance to surrender:
On the right is 24 years old Rotem Levi.
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Rotem was the deputy commander of the unit in charge of blowing up Hamas' terror tunnels. He was killed in battle. An hour before that, he had the chance of calling his wife Shoham (on the left side of the pic) to tell her that he loves her, and that soon, they should get a break in the fighting, and he'd be able to visit their home.
This is 59 years old Yair Ya'akov.
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His teenage sons were kidnapped by Hamas, and released in the hostage deal. They kept waiting and fighting for their father to be released as well. Yesterday, we got the news that Yair was murdered on Oct 7, and his body was kidnapped and is held hostage in Gaza. Just think about the cruel emotional abuse, of letting these kids believe their father is still alive, and that they have a chance to be reunited with him alive, when they should have been allowed to at least get to mourn his death.
May their memories be a blessing.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
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aetherceuse · 8 months
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If people can't be threatmantic, I don't want any antagonism. There is an art to engaging in verbal and physical fisticuffs with a villain and it is dying. Please keep this time honored tradition with me Rex. Let's throw vague threats, be chill and ruin regions. ❤️❤️❤️
I wanna be threatmantic enough all the weird anons just go the fuck away. 🎉✨✨✨
Thanks for this message Kei, I’ve been looking at it, while trying to avoid doom scrolling the dashboard all day, and I’ve finally gotten a moment to sit down and reply to it.
I’d like to clarify, that when I wrote my post about the frustrations of an antagonist writer, it wasn’t to stoke the flames or make it seem as if one group of writers has a more difficult time than another group of writers; problems on both sides can, and do, exist. I did want to bring light to some of the unique frustrations that coincide with people who heavily favor antagonist writing, however.
I write these characters, because I love these characters. And I love these characters because I’ve always been really passionate and really invested in crafting a believable, impactful villain; literally as far back as I can remember, into my earliest years, I was always much more invested in what the antagonists were doing in Disney movies, in old school anime and cartoons, in books, in games, in any sort of media that I was consuming. That is always how I have been. The bombastic energy, the stage presence, the dialogue, the body language, it was always so dramatic and captivating for me, and something that I wanted to replicate in my own art.
What I think a lot of younger people do not realize, is that early on, a lot of villains on television were queercoded, in order to emphasize how TERRIBLE AND AWFUL IT WAS TO BE GAY in the 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, etc. You saw male antagonists who were effeminate, you saw female antagonist who were absolutely lesbian coded. All of these traits were projected onto antagonists. And as a lonely youngin in a household where being gay was considered a mortal sin, where else are you going to find representation? Visibly queer heroes were practically non-existent— and if they did exist, it wasn’t accessible for a child like me, growing up in a staunch Catholic household. Media where the gay men were the bad guys though? Media where the main female antagonist went against gender roles and societal standards? They were plentiful. Sure, there are far more queer heroes in media today, but, my niche has already been solidified.
I think that, along with the fact that my own personality and flavors of trauma and mental illness are— extremely difficult to deal with— influences my writing, and why I have wound up finding a niche in antagonists. At the end of the day, a lot of the psychology and themes that I enjoy writing have not been applicable to protagonists. The antagonists always wind up having the traits that I need to get invested in a muse.
That’s not to say that I do not want my characters to grow. I do. There is so much more to writing— and interacting with— an antagonistic character than putting them in a position to be beaten up, or the butt of a joke. Frankly, it makes me really sad when that is the only thing people want out of my villains. These are human beings, with a range of emotions, interests, backgrounds, and skills: frankly, all of us are more likely to be one step away from being a villain in somebody’s story (and yes, everybody has been the villain in a story at least once before in their lifetime), than a legendary hero. I want to be able to write a character that gets people thinking. However it just gets— more and more difficult to keep up with the pace of the community, especially as someone with characters that require a LOT of patience and time in order to open up. I write personalities and characters that are slow burns. And because of my busy life, my body pains, and other factors, it is difficult to achieve this lately. It is disheartening, to say the least. There is a lot I want to write, there are a lot of angles I want to explore, but it is hard when it feels as though I am not going fast enough— or having my muse open up fast enough— before interest is dropped.
There are people who do appreciate what I do, people who appreciate the nuances of my characters, people who see what I’m writing, nod, and fist bump me. It matters a lot, and those people are dear to me. I realize that my niche isn’t for everybody. I realize that my content can be disturbing. I realize that it can be difficult to interact with. I know these characters can make people uncomfortable, and I don’t take it personally when people SB or hard block my blogs due to the content. But I’m queer, I’m mentally ill, and I’m writing content for queer, mentally ill people to find catharsis in; sometimes, seeing yourself in a villain is what you need for introspection.
My ex told me that my content was “disturbing” and that I “needed help”, and essentially made me stop writing it. I’m not going to stop anymore. This is my passion, and, I hope you guys will see my name on the cover of a hardback novel one day. I despise that we are in an era of the internet where so many people deem you as “bad” if you happen to favor villains over heroes. I don’t see it much here in this community, but, I see it everywhere else on other social media. You can enjoy the themes of fiction, without condoning it. You can put evil on the table without romanticizing it. And you can write villains without being treated like one.
I’ve gone on a ramble, but, thanks for giving me the opportunity to talk about this.
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shesnake · 2 years
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if you're up for it, would talk about your thoughts on lila's character this season? i think she had some great moments but the more i think about it the more uncomfortable with the direction they took. it seems more people like her now but there's not much in depth discussion, so i was curious what you had to say as someone who also loved her since s2
good morning to you and the other anon who sent me this right before you did:
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tua spoilers:
ohhhhhhhh myyyy goddddd I am so pissed off about lila’s wasted potential. last season people were soooo unkind and unsympathetic towards lila for her actions after being raised by the handler and damaged in the exact same way reginald had done to the hargreeves family. I think it might have been worse for lila actually, because she was all alone with no other siblings to lean on growing up, and was always driven by a sense of vengeance for her real parents, who she still remembers. this plus the fact that she’s remained under her mum’s control even as a 30+ year old adult unlike the hargreeveses who have at least had over a decade to step back and process what happened to them (pretty unsuccessfully sure, but time does heal SOME wounds). it really annoyed me that so many people refused to see that she was just like the umbrellas and just wrote her off as a lying manipulative bitch, but when has any fandom been fair on women characters of colour?? especially with tua, and especially since lila is also a major love interest.
but yeah anyways season 2 left lila in a really interesting emotional place, perfect for further character development that could have actually driven the entire story forward. because while the umbrellas squandered their last decade alone from each other, lila could have been recovering from that same kind of trauma but this time with support from diego and the others. I like the idea of the hargreeves siblings seeing someone who is them from ten years ago and knowing how to help them because they know where they themselves went wrong. 
then season 3 decided to scrap that idea and instead give lila a very awkward speedrun through trauma recovery by making her pregnant thereby forcing her to confront her emotions about her abusive mother by dealing with the oh so humourous conundrum of becoming a mother herself. the lie with diego about stan went on for wayyyyy too long and it all just boiled down to boring and sexist romance tropes you’d only expect to find in fan fiction, with diego holding her back from doing anything. the whole thing is just sooooo lazily written to fast-track lila getting on the same emotional journey as the hargreeveses.
and then yeah, there’s the raw fish thing. I don’t think I saw lila drinking any alcohol but she was definitely looking for some at some point. so was she really pregnant anyway??? and then with the zap at the end with them losing their powers and diego and five and luther getting their whole bodies back does that mean lila still has her baby, if it did ever exist?????? they’ll probably just fall back on the “well. lila’s just a crazy lady!~” answer to everything (also i did NOT appreciate all the jokes about them in the asylum like my guy... it was the 60s they were put in there for being brown). fucking horrendous writing. ritu and david are soooo lucky their chemistry was electric enough to stop me from turning the show off.
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unhingedhearties · 14 days
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This Looks Like It'll Be A Productive Discussion
I know yesterday I said I try to not make boomer jokes, but today was a challenge.
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don'tmakefunofthesizedon'tmakefunofthesize
I had to double check that the person who posted this wasn't a man because this is straight up incel moid behavior. I'm surprised she didn't refer to this as Elizabeth's "body count".
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Hey look! It's Jennifer
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May.
LOLOLOLOLOL YOU NEED TO SHARE IT WITH TPTB
I have a funnier idea, people need to share this screencap of your own Facebook page with you every time you get assblasted.
"Do you know the musical 'Six'?"
No, but I just looked it up and it looks like dogshit. Garbage in, Garbage out I guess.
I'm a little confused. How does a real historical event regarding one piece of shit, fat ass man using patriarchal oppression to kill his wives once he got bored with them/pissed of that they didn't birth him a son relate to a fictional woman being tangentially related to various degrees with a handful of men?
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This is what we call a red flag and this person's internet history needs to be checked ASAP.
I may have receipts on this blog of both sides making asses of themselves, but at the moment I've only seen Team Lucas people being gross and weird in regards to the child actors*, so make of that what you will.
*(Never as bad as this post to be fair, it's usually people throwing a temper tantrum on social media posts involving the child actors where they could easily see it).
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Sondra's being a lot more generous than I would have been by assuming she's married.
I looked at Kerri's photo (because boomers can't help but post their full names and photos everywhere online) and I'm going to guess that number is 0-1.
And that's not by choice.
Rebekah's just saying what I've been saying this whole time. I'm sure it will fall on deaf ears.
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GUYS I'M LITTERALLY ROLLING ON THE FLOOR LAUGHING MY ASS OFF
Here grandma, I dug through my 20 year old hard drive to dig out an archaic, unfunny meme to match your humor:
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"Whoever came up with this ridiculous idea is a toxic and unloved person, devoid of good feelings, the only thing a person like that deserves is pity."
Here, I translated it since I have a feeling they're the kind of people who see "not English" and skip over it instead of taking the two seconds to hit "translate post".
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Wow, this is awkward. I don't form weird, parasocial relationships with celebrities online, but if I did, I'd do everything in my power to not embarrass myself in a way that they might see.
Like... do you really think Chris will see this and laugh or do you think he'll see it and cringe at all the 60 year old women lusting after him.
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But remember, Team Nathan fans are "Team Mean".
"They sure loved E before the break up though."
Actually, that's a good point. Funny how they didn't mention this trail of... men Elizabeth knew that had things happen to them when they thought they were getting that wedding.
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songbirdsbees · 1 month
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Rewatching Sam and Colby’s haunted videos part 2!!! Part 1 is here
(Secrets of griffith park video) It’s really funny how they think that doing another haunted hike will go well
Corey: guys you’re making a scene Jake: Colby’s not scene he’s emo
Colby might as well just crawl on the ground for how he keeps purposely ending up on the ground
[Jake and Corey get a phone call at the same time] the guys: omg how is that even possible 😧 and it turns out it’s just a call from their internet provider 😭
“Why is everyone who is doing this hike rn like 60 years old” is hilarious considering they’re all so out of breath and tired 😭
Corey: we should reenact it [the way the couple died] Colby: umm isn’t that very disrespectful? Colby unfortunately you will reenact at least one murder at some point in your career :/
The park ranger(s) just showing them pictures of dead bodies just because they were hanging around this bench at night is a little concerning ngl
(Reacting to Biltmore video) Sam: I think he (Jake) was the center of everything haunted that was happening in that video. <- that Sam quote in combination with the fact that when Jake, Tara, and Jonnie visited the Queen Mary recently stuff was happening a lot in relation to Jake is so interesting. Like I know Jake doesn’t believe but I wouldn’t be surprised if he has some sort of connection to the spirits in some way.
(Lost in ritual tunnel at enchanted forest) Sam and Colby (and poor Matt and Elton lol) are so brave for coming back to this place so much so because the way that other people act there would make me want to never go there again
I can’t believe Matt brought an axe with him 😭😭😭 and Elton has a ton of furs on again
Sam: if this gets 100,000 likes we’ll sacrifice Elton 😌 the way that a lot of fans now would actually love if that happened 💀
They really should not have decided to go to this cave after a week of rain. They are absolutely soaked.
I’m so glad they don’t do videos in random public caves anymore they’re so stressful even though I know they’ll end up okay
(Haunted mission inn hotel) I’m going to be honest I don’t remember this video at all I think I’ve only seen it once 🤷‍♀️
I always think it’s funny how the boys think it would be better for hotels to hide how haunted they are as if the haunted element doesn’t actively help them get more business lmao
“That guy is in his tuxedo and underwear”
I’m definitely not assuming that the closet light being on with a robe and a pillow on the floor means a ghost did it but it’s insane that they rented out the presidential suite which is probably the most expensive room and the staff didn’t even double check to make sure that everything was up to normal hotel room standards first??? These fancy suites are such a scam
Colby jumping off the balcony and onto the bed and then Jake tossing down the camera 😐
Not them getting a mysterious phone call in the hotel room again
They really don’t know flowers and their meanings at all they are grasping at straws to find out why that lamp flickered
It’s so funny that Colby just so happened to press his ear against the door and you could hear the fresh prince of bel-air theme song 😂
DUDE WHY IS THERE JUST A RANDOM ROOM WITH A CAGE AND FOOD BOWLS IN IT. That’s so concerning even if it is just a dog or something
Them leaving because their heavy bag fell off a slippery bench… no wonder I don’t remember this video lol
Those guys whistling as they got closer to them was so creepy… I can’t believe they just ended the video after they interacted with them with no context. I get it was for their own safety but still 😭
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linneatanner · 2 months
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Trish MacEnulty Cinnamon Girl #HistoricalYA #ComingOfAge #HistoricalFiction #YAFiction @pmacenulty @cathiedunn
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FEATURED AUTHOR: TRISH MACENULTY I'm delighted to host Trish MacEnulty again as the featured author in The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour being held between February 22nd — March 14th, 2024. Trish MacEnulty is the author of the Historical Fiction, Cinnamon Girl, released by Livingston Press on September 11th, 2023 (311 pages) Below are highlights of Cinnamon Girl, Trish MacEnulty's author bio, and her fascinating guest post about the historical background of the politically charged Vietnam War era.  Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2024/01/blog-tour-cinnamon-girl-by-trish-macenulty.html HIGHLIGHTS: CINNAMON GIRL   Cinnamon Girl by Trish MacEnulty Blurb: Winner of the Gold Medal in YA Fiction from The Historical Fiction Company! When her beloved step-grandmother, a semi-retired opera singer, dies of cancer in 1970, 15-year-old Eli Burnes runs away with a draft-dodger, thinking she's on the road to adventure and romance. What she finds instead is a world of underground Weathermen, Black Power revolutionaries, snitches and shoot-first police. Eventually Eli is rescued by her father, who turns out both more responsible and more revolutionary than she'd imagined. But when he gets in trouble with the law, she finds herself on the road again, searching for the allies who will help her learn how to save herself. "The book is a fantastic read: fast-moving, full of smoothly woven historical detail and rich characterizations, all told in Eli's appealing voice." — Sarah Johnson, Reading the Past Buy Links: Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/3Ldonw AUTHOR BIO: TRISH MACENULTY   Trish MacEnulty is the author of a historical novel series, literary novels, memoirs, a short story collection, children’s plays, and most recently, the historical coming-of-age novel, Cinnamon Girl (Livingston Press, Sept. 2023). She has a Ph.D. in English from the Florida State University and graduated Magna Cum Laude from the University of Florida. She currently writes book reviews and features for the Historical Novel Society. She lives in Florida with her husband Joe and her two tubby critters, Franco and Tumbleweed. More info at her website: trishmacenulty.com. Author Links: Website: https://trishmacenulty.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/pmacenulty Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100055362621397 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/trishmac_historicalfiction/ Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/trish-macenulty Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Trish-MacEnulty/author/B01G4A797G Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15085884.Trish_MacEnulty   GUEST POST: TRISH MACENULTY   Like my protagonist Eli Burnes in Cinnamon Girl, I was a teenager in the early 1970s. I remember it as a time of idealism, community, and hopefulness in spite of terrible things going on in the world. One of those terrible things was the Vietnam War. Young men were sent overseas by the thousands to fight in the jungles of a small country that had not harmed us. This wasn’t the sort of war most young people could support. It had taken the bombing of Pearl Harbor to convince the U.S. to join the allies in World War II. When that happened, the whole country was willing to accept sacrifices in order to stop our enemies. Some guys even lied about their age so they could join up. But I can’t remember a single boy in high school saying he couldn’t wait to go fight in Vietnam. Most of them were praying for a high draft number so they wouldn’t get called up to fight and then come home in a body bag. University of San Diego students holding sign saying "bring all the troops home now!" Feelings about the war brought a lot of young people together, but the war wasn’t the only thing that brought people together. Racism was another issue that angered many young people, especially college students. In the 60s, our television sets showed sheriff’s deputies in Birmingham sic German shepherds on Black protestors. Newspapers published images of people in Selma being beaten simply because they wanted to vote. People had heard the inspiring speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. and many of them — white and black — were devastated by his assassination. Martin Luther King Jr. speaking to an anti-Vietnam War rally at the University of Minnesota, St. Paul on April 27, 1967 There was a sense, in spite of all this injustice, that regular people could create change. Some things did change. The U.S. finally got rid of the draft. The voting age was lowered to 18. Universities changed their curricula to offer Black studies, Women’s studies, and other courses that had never been offered before. Laws were enacted to offer equal opportunities for all races. And women finally won the right to reproductive choice. Of course, now, we see some of those early gains being rolled back. I suppose it’s natural. When progress happens, there are always those who want to take it back to the way it was before. They’re afraid of losing power or privilege. So a whole new generation has a whole new set of problems on its hands, even if some of those problems were the same ones young people faced in the 70s. Cinnamon Girl is about a teenage girl who is a lot like other teenage girls. She wants friends, she wants a boyfriend, she loves her music. At first, she’s mostly unaware of the important societal issues of the time. Little by little, she learns about the war, about racism, and about the underhanded tricks the government used to squash protest. She also sees the conflicts in the peace movement itself and the mistakes that even well-meaning people make. In the end, however, she has hope for a better world.  I’ve been inspired by the abolitionist movement of the 19th Century, the women’s suffrage movement in the early part of the 20th Century and the Civil Rights Movement in the 1950s and ‘60s. I hope that people today might be inspired as well by the Peace Movement of the 1970s. Those activists made their share of mistakes, but they had a hopefulness and an energy necessary to effect change. To me the biggest lesson is that idealism isn’t a bad thing. In fact, idealism can help us create the world we want, not just try to destroy the world we don’t want. The Arcadian or Pastoral State, second painting in The Course of Empire, by Thomas Cole *All photos, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Instagram Handle: @thecoffeepotbookclub Read the full article
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david-watts · 1 year
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Name one favorite band from each decade
well!! this should be uh. interesting. forgive me for starting in the 1940s since I'm not exactly well-versed in bands from earlier decades
1940s: glenn miller and his orchestra I kinda grew up listening to them on accident, probably because of dad's army, something my m*ther, dad and grandpa love/loved to watch. I don't tend to listen to them that often, but since I do have a favourite then well I might as well put it down!
1950s: bill haley and his comets again, this is my dad's influence, but several of the songs on the cassettes he made up for me were by them. I also have a copy of the rock around the clock album that I got for free at a record fair a long time ago and I would say it's my oldest but I have a 78rpm disc from the 30s. I guess it's my oldest playable disc since we don't have a working 78rpm player
1960s: the easybeats now this was a tough choice! I nearly put the rolling stones, but also I think I enjoy a more wide selection of the easybeats' music than the stones' (not to say I don't enjoy their 60s body of work, it's more about the level at which my brain vibrates) and honestly how can I not list the band I have spent the most money buying albums of
1970s: the kinks I know. but considering that the glenn miller orchestra were formed in the 30s I can count the kinks for my 70s band, since I think I slightly prefer seventies kinks over 60s kinks musically (otherwise the shit that they got up to in the 60s wins out like dave really invited his mother to his shag pad with porn lying about) and yeah. I listened to 20th century man again today in the car before I unwillingly fell asleep. shit's good
1980s: flash and the pan was tempted to put the kinks again but. did you expect anything else from me. I wish opera singers was on the internet in better quality so y'all can go feral over it too
1990s: pink floyd was tough since I don't actually listen to stuff from that decade too often. just hasn't ever been my thing? but honest to god my choice came down to douglas adams playing with them that one time and probably being that publius guy (ik he denied it but seems like something he'd do. dude was probably doing it to procrastinate)
2000s: my chemical romance again, don't really listen to bands from this decade. like yeah I listened to radio pop at the time but also I was at max eight years old, so like. I kinda did have to list the band I've enjoyed most in casual passing (also kinda influenced by gerard way using a flamethrower I like fire)
2010s: for half the 2010s the only things I listened to were classical music/film music (aka I had been watching the same films over and over again and uh. kinda memorised the soundtracks to listen to in my head. I did not have much internet access which is why I did that but I did also pirate dr who music to my phone during the time I DID have it) so my knowledge of the music of the 2010s is. rusty. or alternatively remembering the shitty songs people blasted in various spaces at school and I so desperately wanted to make them listen to the fuckin salt and pepper diner challenge if we remember that. fuck it the tso is definitely my most consistently listened to 'band' (it's an orchestra) from that decade even if I think I found my old spotify wrapped decade thing and it says I listened to queen the most. yikes
2020s: abba like the fact that they released a new album and it slaps and I have two copies of it made this choice easy lol
anyway thank you for putting up with my long answer!! yes I was very weird in the first half of the 2010s, don't @ me
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academyguide · 2 years
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Strength and Conditioning is a pretty interesting field for a lot of reasons; one of the most interesting things to me is how a very large portion of what we learn in school was figured out decades ago. The total amount of information that is truly "new" to the people in this industry is pretty low. There's usually a couple of cool research studies published each year, but very rarely is it something that you would consider groundbreaking. The new strength and conditioning stuff put out each year is usually just the same "old" information organized in a different fashion. The same stuff that helped get Paul Anderson as strong as a bull back in the 50's and 60's still continue to work better than anything else. Basic compound movements paired with progressive overload and consistent effort trump anything else that you can think of. However, that's not to say that the new books being put out each year are worthless; I continue to take the time to read all sorts of new info and literature that comes out each year because I know that each time I read something knew, there's a high probability that I'll be able to find something useful. I go into each new experience, whether it be a seminar or a book, hoping to find at least ONE thing that I can apply to my career.With all that being said, this industry isn't terribly hard to figure out. At the end of the day, every well-studied strength coach out there know's just about all of the same information. We've all taken the same sorts of college courses, read the same new books and old Russian texts, receive the same research journals and attend the same seminars. Sure, there are some coaches who have a better grasp of functional anatomy than others and can tell you the origin, insertion and function of every muscle in the body but those people are outliers.Your success in this field isn't dictated by what you know, since everyone pretty much knows the same shit, but by the manner in which you apply your knowledge. You do need to have a broad knowledge base to begin with, but if you're applying your information in the wrong setting then you're going to get falsely negative results. (Note: I'm not going to be so bold as to suggest that every single coach in this industry is working with the same base of knowledge, there are guys like Eric Cressey, Cal Dietz, Charlie Weingroff or Louie Simmons who are just working on a different playing field than the rest of us. While I am making a generalized statement, it doesn't exist in a vacuum.) You need to familiarize yourself with a wide variety of training methods and theories, but you also need to remember that everything has a time and a place. Verkoshansky showed us how effective shock training could be in order to increase the rate of force development and reactivity in athletes, but if you take that information and think that it'd be great to try with your 12-year old soccer players then you are sorely missing the point.There isn't a single thing in this industry that is set in stone. Every athlete and client that you come across is going to have a different needs analysis and will need something tailored specifically towards them. That's why we are called Strength and Conditioning COACHES and not Strength and Conditioning Applicators. If it was as simple as saying "this single program or theory is irrefutably infallible" then every athlete in the world would be following the same exact style of training.Being a coach is about being able to apply your experiences to the benefit of your athletes and clients. Read everything you can find and attend as many seminars as you can afford. It's not always about new information being presented, but sometimes the way someone presents old information. Have the self-awareness to know when it's the right time to apply the right knowledge.Have a great day and go lift some heavy shit! Source link
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jawllines · 3 years
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miss jaws !!!! pretty pls could you soon give us that witchrry catch up you promised us ???? 💟☹️
OH YES! IM SORRY HERE YOU GO
i.
“I do not like this form, human! Change me back at once!”
When Y/N said she wanted to try the spell that could give a familiar a human body for a little while, she really had not expected it to go over like this.
How she did imagine it was something cute and simple. She and Harry having nothing to do on a Saturday night bored out of their whits and looking for some mild entertainment. Y/N would remember that she’d seen this spell flipping through one of the books that her Nan sent her in the mail, she’d tell him they should try it, and Harry would agree, of course, because who didn’t want to see an animal as a human? It would be fun, they would get to see what Thumper and Oat would be like as something other than furry little mammals, and then they would change them back and that would be that.
However, when you’re a witch, things rarely go as planned or even think about being as easy. Maybe it was Y/N’s fault (it definitely was), but she had sort of jumped the gun on waiting for a Saturday night that she and Harry were both bored. Instead, on a Thursday night when Harry is supposed to come over after doing some business at one of the bars here, Y/N thought she should just go ahead and make the concoction now. That’s all it was -- some special herbs and mixes that the familiar would consume. She thought it would be easy to just make it, set up somewhere high that Thumper and Oat (who she watched while Harry was working) wouldn’t be able to reach it, and then surprise Harry with the fact that she had made it once he got back.
But of course, just as soon as she’s turned her back to get the lid for the bowl she’d made it in, she turns around to see Thumper with his face buried in the mix, “Hey!” She cried out, but it was already much too late; Thumper’s little nose twitched as it was covered in the pink substance, and there is a flash of light so blinding that Y/N has to close her eyes. When she opens them. . .well, she made the potion correctly. In the place of her grumpy little bunny there is a grumpy looking guy with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. He had hair as white as Thumper’s fur, very dark colored eyes, and stark naked.
Y/N squealed, covering her eyes but before she could she saw him cover his ears, “Loud! Stop that!”
“I’m sorry,” she rushed to say, a little quieter, “Cover your -- cover your bits!”
“My what?” He sounded irritated, Y/N could only huff -- even if she hadn’t witnessed it happening, there would be no doubt in her mind that this attitude was coming from her bunny.
“The dangly thing between your legs,” she urges, “Cover it!”
There is a disgruntled sigh, “You are so rude! Why am I human? I want to be a bunny again!”
Y/N peeked her eyes open a little to make sure he had something over him, and she sees he’d settled with his hand, “Well if you would have just waited instead of sticking your nose in something that wasn’t yours, I could have explained what it was before you went and eat it! You’re such a naughty bunny.”
“I am not! You are a naughty witch. Who wants to be human anyway?” He plucked Oat up when had come around to sniff the bowl, “Don’t eat this Oat, it tastes like oranges, limes, and lemons all wrapped into one.”
Squinting, Y/N is about to scold him for being mean when the sound of a throat clearing drags their attention away from glaring at each other. He looks confused, his head tilted and his mouth had fallen open just slightly, “Who is the naked guy?” He inquired casually and said naked guy, turns his nose up at him.
“I am Thumper, can’t you see?” He sneered.
“Thumper, be nice!”
Harry hums low, “I could have sworn Thumper was about 60 centimeters tall and also a rabbit.”
“I made that -- the potion thingy, to give the familiar a human form, remember? And I was going to cover it and wait until you got home so that we could try it but someone immediately went over and started eating it!” Y/N looked back over to Thumper who is still scowling, and this is around the time he would usually stomp his foot then hop away to a different room. Seeing as he can’t hop, he stomps his foot and storms out of the room instead, still clutching Oat to his chest.
When they were out of the room, Y/N turned to face Harry with a deep pout on her mouth. He chuckled warmly, opening his arms for her, and she crosses the room to him quickly. She buries her face in his neck (he smelled like cold air and pine needles) and melts into the hug, “You’re silly, d’ya know that?” He rubbed up and down her back in large circles, “You know Thumper never minds his business when you make something that looks edible. And can I be honest? I really didn’t expect him to look. . .”
“Cute?” Y/N fills in for him, and Harry hums in agreement, “Yeah, I always imagined him as a grumpy old sod in his 70s, so you can say I’m also a little shocked.”
He laughs again, only this time he slipped away from her, looping his fingers around her wrist, “C’mon,” he murmured, “Let’s go see what they’re up to before he burns the flat down out of spite.”
. . .
As always, for some reason or another, Thumper takes better to Harry despite literally being Y/N’s familiar. He eventually calms down but only because Harry offered him the whole bag of carrot chips in the fridge, and asks him what he would like to watch on TV. When he choose animal planet, both Y/N and Harry hold back a snicker so they wouldn’t piss him off all over again. And despite not being happy about it, he does put on the boxers Harry gives him.
And like always, while Y/N and Harry are snuggled together on the couch watching the telly and waiting out for Thumper to relax enough to stop grumbling and grousing about how much this form stinks. He was always grumpy for a time but then relaxed after a while and usually crawled his way into Y/N or Harry’s lap to sleep. They figured he would alter it some since now he was about 160lbs at 6ft, but Thumper was not one to conform to anything with others in mind. If he wanted in a lap, he was getting in a lap, which is how Harry and Y/N both ended up with him stretched out across their thighs with his head resting on the couch pillow.
It was odd, but objectively, weirder things had happened.
He told them Oat didn’t want to be a human and kept her cuddled against him so he could “protect her from you rotten humans” and they both allowed it to happen, so she was snuggled up too. It was just a big cuddle pile, much how they usually are only with more human legs and arms than usual. Ultimately, he did calm down enough that they could pick his brain a little bit, and learn more about him than what was usually permitted between he and Y/N’s thought transference. Even then, at his calmest, it was like pulling teeth to get much of anything out of him.
“How long have you been around?”
“A very long time.”
“Well, yeah, but in years --”
“Many years.”
Y/N sighed, and Harry would squeeze her shoulder, chewing hard on his lip to stop himself from giggling, “Alright,” she continued, “Where were you born?”
“Earth.”
“Thumper,” Harry plucked Oat up from where she’d been sitting on his shoulder, “Oat wants to know too, she said! You wouldn’t keep her from knowing, would you?”
Thumper, whose eyes had been closed (they were completely black, which was a little startling to say the least, but nobody brings it up), blinks one of them open and peeks over at Oat who is looking at him with her head tilted. With a small huff, he readjusted himself, closing his eyes once more, “I have been around for 980 years,” he answered, and a small smile twitches at his mouth when they both gasp, “I was born in the Netherlands, and my first owner called me Finn. I hate this name, but she was not a witch and often fed me many good plants from her garden, so I suffered through it.”
Under the guise of Oat wanting to know, Thumper tells them plenty about himself, and it becomes quite clear why he was such a grumpy guy. He’d been around for years upon years and constantly switched owners, more often than not because they did something to upset him. Sometimes they would forget about him, sometimes they would step on his paw, other times they would call him mean names, and the worst of it -- they would punish him for nibbling on things. “I always wait for you to do something to upset me, but you have done nothing yet.”
“Shouldn’t you give me the benefit of the doubt at this point?” She patted at his full belly and he swatted her hand, “You did come to my doorstep didn’t you? S’not even like I stole you from the woods.”
“I smelled fresh fruit and plants, how was I to know I’d find a gardening witch? The imprinting was unintentional!”
Y/N pouted, Harry tugged her closer to him though and traced looping patterns into her arm, “You know he loves you,” Harry tells her, then takes a turn to poke at Thumper’s belly -- he swats him away too which makes Y/N feel a little better, “Oat tells me all the time how much nice stuff he says about you. He even comforts you when you’re sad! I think this grumpy stuff is all an act.”
Thumper’s brows furrow but he does not deny it, instead, he crosses his arms and turns his face away.
She smiles.
He eventually changes back after five hours and it was while they all had fallen asleep. One moment there was a very heavy presence with their arms circled around Y/N’s waist, with their head on her belly -- the next there’s a furry little body sat in her lap. He curled up in a tighter ball and snuggled nearer -- he didn’t even nip her when she pulled him up to sleep in her arms. Y/N maneuvers them both, and in doing so stirs Harry, who accommodates her. Her back to his chest, his arm flopped over her body, Thumper in her arms, and Oat sleeping at the top of Harry’s head.
Y/N wonders how she ever got to sleep without being like this.
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braceletofteeth · 2 years
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Ten characters I fell in love with in 2021
I really wanted to do this when I saw it for the first time, but told myself to wait at least a week. If no one tagged me, then I'd do it anyway. But a few days ago, an ANGEL, @adithemadfangirl, did it <3 I was SO happy, thank you so much, darling! <3
*This list is in no particular order. It'd be too cruel to ask me to rank them.
1. Yoon Jongwoo (Strangers From Hell)
He's so small, it's like having a cute little bunny in the palm of your hand. Except this one can, wants to, and will kill you.
He's confusing and deceitful, but I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make me love him even more.
2. Yook Dongsik (Psychopath Diary)
THE LEGEND. Makes you think he's an ordinary clown but then you find out he's actually the owner of the circus and all the clowns wanna BE him, BEFRIEND him, or KISS him on the mouth.
(A true inspiration. Has the most satisfying character development of all time).
3. Eve Polastri (Killing Eve)
Beautiful mess. I want to sit back and watch mesmerized while she does normal stuff, like chop some onions or smother someone to death.
4. Ryu Sooyeol (Bad And Crazy)
Facial expressions are A+. He's a good son and a good wife.
Also mentally ill (to add some spice!).
I've only had this wimpy detective for a month, but you can pry him from my cold, dead hands.
5. Shintarō Midorima (Kuroko no Basuke)
60-years-old-grandpa trapped in the body of a teenager. Nerdy and grumpy. Makes you covet his respect more than his affection.
Even his superstitions are endearing.
6. Lee Dongsik (Beyond Evil)
Has anyone that met him not been marked for life?
7. President Gu (Life)
The last decent bussinessman standing. Could make an empire out of nothing, out of absolute chaos. He commits fully. Wanna get on his way? Better have an alphabet worth of backup plans (because he sure does!).
... He's also thoughtful and kindhearted. Much more than you'd think :(
8. Oksana Astankova/Villanelle (Killing Eve)
I missed her voice every day for weeks after I finished Killing Eve. I could hear her accent all the time and never get tired of it. She's the one I have the most of a good time with, doesn't matter where she's at or what she's doing.
Everyone is underdressed in her presence.
She made some mistakes but memory is a funny thing haha, I don't remember any of it ?? :)
9. Seo Inwoo (Psychopath Diary)
Pathetic. Main cause of his own problems. Has Family Issues (as in his whole family is a fucking issue). Has the cutest crow laugh. Usually calm and collected but all his brain cells check out when his hand is held by another man.
Heinous, horrible individual, in serious need of jail time—but not for too long, because then I miss him :(
10. Seo Moonjo (Strangers From Hell)
Annoying. The reason why I know petnames in eleven different languages.
Made a home in my head, infests it with weird thoughts like a parasite. Never leaves; therefore, I'm never alone.
[Honorable mentions:
XI. Luke Brandon (Confessions of a Shopaholic)
I was on my extended Hugh Dancy Era when I came across this guy. I would say his name and no one would know who the fuck he was.
He tries to advise poor people that are being fooled by rich assholes. He's a lawful good that cares deeply about things like "honesty" and "credibility". How could I resist?
XII. Lee Yeon (Tale of the Nine-Tailed)
Gave my favorite fox (Tomoe) a run for his money.
I love how he keeps getting dangerously attached to a lot of people despite his 'I don't give a shit' personality.
Extra points for having a cool sword.]
I'm tagging @softneomirotic @somebodycallixii @mangodelorean @jentonic @smiley-wookie and @chhagiya if any of you guys haven't done it yet and would like too <3
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whosscruffylooking · 3 years
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The Purest Things- Repeating History
Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.
A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!
The Purest Things Masterlist
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(my gif! please credit if you use.)
january 2008
Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”
+++++
Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.
4:25 A.M.
You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.
+++++
"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."
"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.
There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.
Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."
"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.
The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?
+++++
Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.
Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.
"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."
"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.
"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.  
Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.
"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.
He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."
Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."
"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.
You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.
"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.
Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.
"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.
"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.
Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"
"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.
"You never lose it, though."
He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."
Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.
+++++
"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.
"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"
"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.
"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"
Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.
"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."
"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.
Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.
Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."
Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.
+++++
As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.
"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.
Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.
Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.
I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.
The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.
Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.
"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"
"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.
He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part.  I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."
"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."
+++++
After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.
"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.
"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.
"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.
Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"
Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"
You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.
"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."
"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.
Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.
"I would like that," he answers softly.
He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.
"Agent Hotchner?"
"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.  
The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.
"What is it?" Emily speaks up.
There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.
Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."
When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.
If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.
In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.  
At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.
Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.
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lsholland · 3 years
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𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"
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Word count: 3.7k
tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...
genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama
Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?
You can also read it on Wattpad.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)
"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.
He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.
And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.
And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.
It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.
"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.
"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.
Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.
And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.
And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.
It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?
The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.
He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!
He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.
Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.
The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.
He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.
That's how you know it's too late.
"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.
"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.
"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.
"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."
"If you say so . . ."
And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .
It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.
He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?
What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?
He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.
He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.
Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.
He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.
He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.
And another one.
And another one.
And another one.
And another one . . .
The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.
Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.
He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.
"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.
Only?
He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.
As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.
He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.
Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.
He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.
The bar is closed for annual leave.
"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.
Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.
"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.
His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.
He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.
But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.
He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—
BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.
Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.
He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.
For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.
He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.
What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.
There's only one viable option for him.
"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.
He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.
"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.
He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.
Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.
He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.
"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"
"What's your name, sir?"
His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.
He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.
As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .
He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.
Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.
He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?
He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.
He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .
He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.
25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound
Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.
As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.
Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.
Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.
"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"
"Wh—What?" he mumbles.
His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.
His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"
Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.
"And what happened to your car, man?"
And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.
He's lost.
* * *
Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?
Please like this post to be in the taglist.
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My Marvel Pregnant/Adopted HC'S Pt 3
Gender Neutral Reader
Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3
[CAROL DANVERS]
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Whenever she interacted with Maria's little girl, there was a motherly aura coming off of her. You two had been together for some time now, helping the other when either one couldn't understand something, back hugs while cooking, washing the others hair, cuddling. Life seemed beyond perfect with Carol.
You wondered how she would be with a your guys child, should one be brought into the picture. The few times you both had talked of children, you agreed to adopt, to make the unwanted children, wanted. It was a nice day as you spent your time outside, attending to the garden and the clothes on a clothesline, because your dryer was currently broken.
Carol silently walked up and helped you fold and place the laundry in the basket, using her powers the slightest bit to dry any thing still damp.
"So, you wanna head to the orphanage again?"
You questioned as she simply nodded, a smile crossing her face as you both finished the clothes and placed them inside and went on your way. Once at the orphanage, you did some quiet talking to one of the staff and a few minutes later, an excited 14 year old boy, his hair color much like Carol's, ran in the room, a bag trailing behind him.
"Well who are you?" Carol questioned, an 'oof' leaving her mouth when the boy pounced her with a hug. You handed her a pen and a few papers, a cocky smile on your face. She laughed, throwing her head back with glee. "Oh I'm so getting you back for this!"
[WANDA MAXIMOFF]
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Westview was the best place to live, especially with Wanda. The 60's were such a lively time that you couldn't get enough of, never wanting it to end. You both had the perfect life, you were completely unaware it was a spell bring this perfect life. You had wonderful neighbours like Vision & Agatha. They were some of the more favorite neighbours to be truthful.
Kids were brought up a couple times and you agreed, two children at least and maybe four at most. Wanda offered to be the one to carry should you have children and you agreed after some obvious hesitance and worry.
There was a day when you woke up, fresh smell of cooking breakfast woke you up quicker as you slipped on a silk bathrobe and soft fluffy slippers and made your way down to the kitchen, your mind feeling fuzzy as though you'd forgotten something.
"Morning honey"
You smiled at her voice, greeting her back and wrapped your arms around her waist, not remembering her pregnant belly being this swollen. "How are the boys in there?" She smiled at the feeling of your hands caressing her stomach. "Doing good"
[PIETRO MAXIMOFF]
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When you had seen him get shot while fighting Ultron, you felt a massive piece of you slip away and crumble as you ran towards him and sobbed over his body, not caring for the blood that stained you. A couple hours after returning to the compound, Bruce ran out with the most happy look you'd ever seen on his face as her dragged you back to the medical lab room. When you got there, shock drenched you like sweat, Pietro was up and alive as nothing had happened.
That was months, almost a year ago and you kept thanking Bruce and doing little things for him every chance you got, he did somehow manage to save the love of your life.
"Hey P, do you think we'd be good parents?"
Pietro looked at you with furrowed brows and smile, nodding. "Of course you would be. I don't know about me, but you would go down in history as the best parent ever" You laughed lightly, brushing your fingers through his hair with a bright smile as you sighed. "Well... you might just be a dad"
He looked confused, very confused as he mentally pieced things together before it hit him like a brick wall. "Ah my love! Yes!" His sokovian accent heavier then before.
[TCHALLA]
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With Tchalla, having kids was a very important thing incase he were to meet death before his time. You didn't really want kids because you were scared of multiple things. Scared of birth, scared of not being good enough for the child, scared of dying in birth. You shook the thoughts from your head but they still sat heavy on your shoulders as you attended to your busy schedule as Tchalla was doing the same thing.
Despite how busy the two of you were, being Wakadan royalty, you still saw each other quite often.
"My love, must we have a boy? I'm still having to get used to all of this"
Tchalla sighed as the two of you walked side-by-side in one of the lush gardens, taking a seat on a very insanely expensive bench with only the finest, rare materials. "It is hoped for to have a son born first but I do not care whether we are to having a boy or a girl. With you? I'll be happy with anything" His hand gently holding your own, nothing but comfortable silence between you both.
"Well, I don't fully know quite yet but we are expecting"
You took his hand, gently placing it on your stomach. "The nurses said that child, for as small as they are, is quite strong already" When you looked to Tchalla, his face had unexplainable happiness, a soft smile spreading from ear to ear. "They will be a great warrior should they choose to be. Our child, may even be greater then I"
[SCOTT LANG]
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You met Scott before he had gotten arrested and you were the only person who would to see him on an almost constant basis. His daughter Cassie, absolutely adored you and in a positive way, lost her shit when you were around. You saw the spunky little girl as your own and Scott absolutely loved seeing you interact with her.
One night, you two had Cassie for the weekend, having fun, eating junk, watching Disney movies and just having fun when you figured, just maybe, let the news out now while Cassie was around. You shut the door with your foot, setting down the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter.
You wrote a little something on the box you knew Scott would open first as you took the pizza boxes to the living room, setting them down on the table and taking your spot by Scott again. Later on, you and Cassie were singing a song together from 'Tangled' as Scott recorded the scene, stopping only to grab a slice.
From him, it was silent as you and Cassie finished the song, you turned to him, a knowing look on your face as you smiled. "So?" He set the pizza box off his lap, laid his head back and soon, you heard little laughs as he sprung up from the couch and practically absorbed you into him.
"You're gonna be a big sister Cassie!!"
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