#and my brain is like. damn this is gonna be some burnout love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robin-the-enby · 3 years

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Um, hi! I was hoping I could get a diabolik lovers matchup? And if possible, one for the Sakamaki family, and one for the Mukami family, but it’s fine if you can’t. I’m an INTP bisexual female with slightly above shoulder-length black hair and a fringe. (Although, I do have an undercut as well so it’s a bit “odd” to most people. Basically, with my hair normally, I look like a young Japanese school girl but with my hair tied-up, I look like “a delinquent.”) I also need glasses however, I tend to avoid using them unless I’m on a device of sorts or reading for a prolonged period of time.

I’m a 5’1 Capricorn and as such, I am known to be a very independent person who gets what they want done. The downside to this is if I’m forced to do something, my efficiency drops dramatically and so I’d think it’s quite useless to tell me to do something I have no interest in. Also, people who have met me for the first time tend not to take me seriously when I speak straightforwardly or pointedly because of my short stature.

English is my 2nd language and Japanese is my 3rd. My hobbies include reading, writing, painting, drawing, and anything within the field of arts. Because of this, I’ve been told that I’m quite smart as I can ace an important exam without having studied seriously prior. Most of my time goes to my hobbies and so I don’t really bother with academics so as long as I don’t fail nor let my grades fall too low, I don’t put for much effort in school. (Which also means that I don’t study at all, but I’ve never had a bad grade before) I prefer to be alone or with another individual rather than in groups when it comes to working or simply conversing as I tend to get overwhelmed with too much company (which, sadly, makes me more irritable and snappy at people.)

I’m a classic(?)introvert case and because of my disorganized emotional nature, people tend to think I’m bi-polar. Sometimes, I’d like to be left alone since I prefer working seriously but I also like being affectionate towards people I like or cherish. So I think someone who’s understanding of my ever-changing need for affection would be nice. My love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch.

Thank you for entertaining this long ask and I do apologize for it as well. Have a nice day!

Damn, you're really lucky you don't have to study and still do good at school. I'm a perfect example of "Gifted kid burnout" heh... I match you with:

Ruki Mukami

I think Ruki would be the first to understand that he can't force you into doing stuff around the mansion. Also the first one to understand that you're gonna do that stuff yourself, without being told to do anything.

It would honestly lift so much weight from his shoulders.

You don't have to worry about him not respecting you. Just because you're shorter doesn't mean you're anything less or more childish. He understands he is quite the tall boi too.

He adores your pride and confidence in what you do, he thinks it's a very good quality of yours!

He would also adore anything you create. Anything you'd draw, write, he would scan it over and over again and again, until he memorized every word or every brush or pen stroke.

You can expect some nice constructive criticism from him and a whole lot of compliments ;)

He loves your intelligence, since he's the brains of the house too. He'd love to have some deep conversations with you, about things from movies or books that inspire you, stuff about the world that you hate or love, any and every topic that you can break down, you will at some point.

Now, he'd be a little confused at your changes in moods. He understands you're introverted, he is too, afterall, but sometimes you are all cuddly and soft and sometimes you can be quite cold and irritable and he just...can't get to the bottom of it.

It makes you that more intriguing in his eyes though and he loves to ponder and predict your moods, which he often cannot. It makes his brain busy.

However, he will respect whatever mood you are in and wait for you until you want to cuddle or hang out or anything, really.

If you praise him for something, the slightest hint of blush on his cheeks, almost invisible, will show. However, inside, he feels a bit proud.

That dude definitely needs some praise, he's got everyone's backs and makes sure everyone and everything's ok.

Shuu Sakamaki

The one thing that Shuu'd have to learn would be that forcing you to do something will get him nowhere. He isn't as bossy as some of his brothers, but he'd try to order you around sometimes at first.

Once he gets past that however, you're fine.

Another one that doesn't care if you're short or tall. Sure, he might tease you for your height, but never take you any less seriously.

He thinks you're really unique and smart. He's not much for talking, unlike Ruki, but he'll listen to whatever you might want to ramble about. He's very glad you're not stuck up like Reiji, too.

He might not show it much, but he's very impressed at your art skills. It astonishes him the certainty with which you hold your pencil when drawing or the way you can write a whole story. He won't ask to see your creations himself, but if you mention that you're done with something, he'll ask you to show him what you've made.

He won't shower you with praise, but you'll get a rare smile out of him and some nice, soft words of approval.

When it comes to your changes in moods, I feel like Shuu wouldn't be bothered much. Or at least, he wouldn't show it.

He is totally fine with your moodswings, he totally understands that sometimes, you just want to be alone and sometimes, you want to be as close to him as possible.

He doesn't need words of affirmation, but whenever you two cuddle, he actually might cry, even if he puts on the stone cold face. He loves it when you're close, like you are one, and he can really be in the present, with you, in peace. You're there, you're his and you're not going anywhere and he can hold you as close as possible or better, you can hold him for a while. It's the one time he truly rests.

I hope you enjoyed!

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers matchups #diabolik lovers x y/n #diabolik lovers x reader #dialovers shuu #dialovers #dialovers ruki #mukami ruki #sakamaki shuu #mukami ruki x reader #mukami ruki x y/n #sakamaki shuu x reader #sakamaki shuu x y/n

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dieguzguz · 4 years

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The wonderful @xbaebsae (thank you❤️) sent me the following prompt for what was supposed to be a drabble... But it turned more into a little slice of life

“It’s getting harder to get up with each morning.”

With a weak smile she took the cup of coffee Sharky handed her before he let himself plop down on the couch next to her, mumbling something that sounded a lot like “fucking cult”.

[[MORE]]

Deep in thoughts, he stared at his sad, soggy fruit loops, who still were not drenched in milk enough for his liking.

Carefully Natalie turned the cup around, so she could drink from the side without the chip.

“You need more disco in your life — no, amiga hear me out! Blast those funky good vibes and dance when you wake up. Trust me, that’s like brain science.”

An amused snort escaped her. “Do you mean psychology?”

“Tomato Potato.”

Swatting his hand at her he leaned forward to pick up her mobile from the couch table, waiting for her affirming nod before unlocking it and starting up the Spotify app. “I’m gonna introduce you to the finest playlist you’ll ever get to hear in your life.”

The boyish grin touched his eyes, and Natalie could not help but grin in return.

Rolling over onto her stomach and burying her face into the pillow she tried forcing herself to fall back to sleep. A fruitless attempt she had been at for the last half hour or so.

All Natalie wanted was to waste as much as possible of this damn free day. The sheriff actually forced her into this small holiday, after everything that had happened it felt weird to be reminded of him being her boss.

“I won’t sit by and watch you get burnout on top of all the other shit, Deputy Carver you’re on holiday until I say otherwise.”

It had been a while since Earl used that authorial tone. Felt like a lifetime ago when he would lecture Pratt about leaving the coffee-pot empty, every time he took the last cup.

Groaning she turned once more and stared at the ceiling of her cabin. There was nothing to clean or redecorate here, Jacob had been a great help with that.

Well, he better, this was now his home too.

She would never forget his face when she asked him for his take on furniture that needed replacement. Smiling she let a palm glide across the beige linen bedding he had chosen, loving the fact how this place felt like theirs now.

Dragging herself out of bed she looked around clueless, this was the first time in months or rather years, she had nothing to take care of. And apparently, Natalie unlearned how to relax.

Maybe a shower would be a good start, one that lasts more than a five-minute quick rinse off. It lasted ten minutes, or maybe seven, nevertheless longer than her usual showers. And now she did not know what to do with herself.

Brushing her wet hair Natalie kept staring at herself in the mirror, almost surprised to see no bruises on her skin. That was a welcome change.

Change.

Natalie needed to think differently about this free time, stop letting the guilt of relaxing overwhelm her and spread some good vibes around here. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth at the memory of Sharky’s grand life wisdom.

“Eh, why not.”

After exchanging the towel for her underwear she grabbed her mobile from the window still and put Shaky’s playlist on shuffle while brushing her teeth, nodding her head to the tunes. As she was washing her face a very familiar cymbal blasted through the bathroom, followed by the tunes of disco inferno. Shaking her head with a chuckle she shimmied her shoulders, grabbed the mobile and with a sway she stepped out in the small corridor leading to the open living area.

Raising her arms and turning around herself she yelled along with the chorus: “Burn baby burn!” only to break off in laughter over herself.

That did not stop her from dancing; rolling her hips with each step towards the kitchen isle, singing the verses while she started the coffee machine and wiggling her butt to the rhythm.

“Burn baby burn, burn that mother down.” Grinning to herself she raised her arms above the head and skipped back down the corridor.

Humming she closed her eyes and spun around. “Up above my head I hear music in the air-“

“Fuck!” The shriek escaped her as soon as she opened her eyes again and saw Jacob standing at the other end of the hallway with a smirk plastered across his face and a cup of steaming coffee in hands.

In a last-second realization, she kept herself from throwing her mobile at him, instead, she fumbled around until the App was finally closed and the embarrassing disco music silenced.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Good mornin' to ya too."

Smug as ever he took a sip and let his eyes wander over her, as she walked up to him and got on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before hugging him.

"Morning. I thought you’re already at the Center?"

“Mhm I was. Stopped by on my way to John to check on ya and I’m glad I did.”

He kept her close by wrapping his free arm around her naked waist. Natalie gladly leaned into him with a grin, but when she spotted the empty coffee pot over his shoulder her mouth hung open with a disbelieving gasp.

“Unbelievable! You thief, that was my coffee -“ She wiggled herself free and held up her hands. “No, I’m on holiday and you’re not gonna make me sound like Whitehorse.”

Jacob stared after her in confusion while she went into the bathroom to grab a robe. “Be a dear and brew me a cup. Thanks!”

#Natalie Carver #far cry 5 #jacob seed #far cry 5 oc #my writing #far cry 5 writing

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skullstarz · 3 years

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CONGRATS!! <333 ya know me BUT, may i please get both hq and bnha? she/her. 19. capricorn sun, libra rising, aquarius moon, and capricorn venus. isfp. straight. and i don't have a preference… but i'd choose villains.

uhhh i hate describing myself. i like to shop and spend money on clothes and other things i don't need. i like to write (burnout is killing me). very lazy. but im still super fun and funny. very loyal. also very annoying. i hate school and work, just wanna be a housewife with 300 pets. mwa.

SORRY I TOOK FOREVER uh genshin impact consumes my life <//3

DAICHI

✿ I KNOW you love suga but HEAR ME OUT

✿ you're friends with suga and you're like getting shitty grades and you're all 'suga pls help me study <//3 i beg'

✿ you are YEARNING for him but what you think is a study date is actually a study group with him, daichi, and some dumb first years (aka hinata and the no brain squad)

✿ after you meet daichi and find out you both make each other laugh till your sides hurt ummm both of you -> ♡—♡ and the rest is history

✿ this man becomes a police officer, so you know you have that government job money to not only spend but live off of

✿ and we all know hes dad material so whether you and him have actual babies or fur babies he 100% supports you and loves them

✿ enjoys shopping with you and encouraging you to get your shit together without overwhelming you

✿ and your first kiss? exactly that

"dai lets go out someplace" you beg "you have like three missing assignments" he shoots you down quickly, not even turning his head towards you- bruh <//3 you're in spain "maybe i'll do them if we go out first, as a reward" he stares at you puzzled "thats not how rewards work"

a moment passes and you huff, finishing the last question on an assignment. "see- look, i did it, now lets go out as a reward" you smiled before he chides you "finish the other two first, at least" "why do you have to be such a good dude" you grumble, going back to your assignments as daichi smiles, before getting up slowly

you look at him, confused, before receiving a short and sweet, yet hesitant, kiss. "is this enough of a reward?" um shawty you're deceased <3 that wasnt a reward that was a murder

DABI

✿ um honestly i cant tell you how or why he loves you he just does

✿ his ugly ass wont admit he LOVES you though, always jokes that he tolerates you at most

✿ loves that you're lazy, ngl, he likes lazying around with you any time hes not busy with his whole villain thing

✿ doesnt care much for the fact that you have/want many pets but supports you nonetheless, sometimes calls them ugly to tease you though <//3

✿ lmao he encourages your hate for work and school

✿ "just stay in bed with me babe"

✿ secretly the most supportive boyfriend when it comes to your writing, tries to discreetly inspire you and reads over your work from time to time

✿ goes shopping with you but complains the whole damn time like a BABY but actually likes spending time with you walking around a shopping mall

✿ your first kiss was actually at the mall

"dabi PLEASE just try this on i think it would look good on you" "uh no <3 i dont even wanna be here" you stare at him with an annoyed face "cmon if you really didnt wanna be here you wouldn't have come now please just try this SINGULAR shirt" he lets out a half-whine half-grumble before snatching the shirt, going off to the try on rooms while you snoop around for more clothes like a little shopping goblin

he called over for you and as you reach him you nod approvingly, liking what you see. he scoffs when he sees another shirt "please just try this SiNgULaR shirt" he mocks your past remark. "ONE more" you beg with big ol puppy dog eyes (him in his head: baby im not even here, im an illusion) "you aren't gonna convince me like that, doll" "oh yeah?" you ask, an idea popping up in your mind "i just said so, dummy" he teases, before you give him a fat ass kiss that he attempts to deepen but fails as you pull away

"now will you try on this one last shirt?" you ask him, and he smirks "tch, sure whatever"

#bnha matchup #haikyu matchups #anime #bnha #hq #haikyuu daichi #bnha dabi #slams my head into a wall #millie #i so sorry #but suga remains out of your grasp #miyaplayscupid

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

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Counterpart [2/5]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Framework!Steve

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Words: 4k

A/N: Just to clear up any confusion, in the Framework the blip and Thanos’s undertaking never happened. Civil War was between Hydra and what was left of Avengers/Shield and the Sokovia Accords weren’t just about registration but an official order branding Shield as terrorists and reinstating the Winter Soldier Program- it passed. Also, Clint has always been Ronin, Hawkeye doesn’t exist in the framework.

Warnings: This chapter contains depictions and mentions of cheating, has drug use, language, slight NSFW and some angst. It’s a dark series, expect a darker take.

Leave a like, comment or reblog-highly appreciated! ☺ Taglist is open

PART TWO: DOPPELGANGERS

~Avengers Compound

"Grrrrrhh!" Bucky flipped the table in a burning fury.

Wanda and Sam looked on at a loss, feeling completely helpless.

"Hey, Bucky try and calm down," Sam said softly.

"How am I supposed to stay calm when she's out there, helpless and alone, knowing it's all my fault?" Bucky shouted.

Wanda took a small step forward, "Bucky, there's no way you could ha--"

"I'm her partner Wanda. We are supposed to keep each other safe! She isn't here right now and it's my fault!" Bucky bit back.

Wanda folded her trembling hands under her poncho as she took a step back, her eyes landing on the cup Y/N had drunk tea from a few hours earlier. Her eyes were sad but lit with fury.

"You think you're the only one who feels responsible? If I hadn’t been so afraid to get on that damned jet, maybe none of this would have happened!"

Wanda's words stung at everyone in the room, making them all flinch at her sudden outburst. The red mist that accompanied her abilities snaked around her form.

Sam unfolded his hands and held them out to try and calm his companions, "Look, let’s all take a breath. We all care about Y/N. We're all worried. But that don't change the fact that all we can do is wait until we get a ping on her location. Fighting isn’t goin’ to change that. Neither will flippin’ furniture."

Bucky let out another guttural shout and connected his non-metal fist into the wall. When his knuckles removed themselves, they were bloodied and the skin was serrated by the shattered wall plaster.

"We don't have time to wait," Bucky said hoarsely. "Those people we found in the submarine. They all flat-lined once whatever that experiment they were part of was completed. If they're doing the same thing to her--"

Bucky slumped to the ground, his head hanging low between his knees as his hands trembled against fists full of hair.

"Screw this!" Wanda stormed out of the room.

"Wanda, where are you going?" Sam asked.

"It'll be a cold day in hell before I lose another person I care about," she said with a vicious tone. "I'm not gonna sit around here and feel sorry for myself. I'm going to talk to someone who actually can help me!"

Then she disappeared, flying out in a brilliant red streak.

Sam sighed, the weight of leading the team was heavier than he was initially prepared for. He felt just as helpless as everyone else right now. If he couldn't be the leader they needed right now, the least he could be was a compassionate shoulder to lean on.

Sam sat down next to Bucky, at first all that filled the room was this perpetual feeling of nothingness- a distinct absence of sound beside ragged breathing and tree branches tapping on plated glass from the strong howling wind. It was almost as though the wind had adapted to their moods; angry, afraid and confused. Then, after a few minutes passed, Bucky spoke with a shaky voice.

"You were right, Sam."

"About?"

"I kept stalling abut asking Y/N to marry me because... I was afraid."

Sam rose his eyebrows in disbelief, "Were you afraid she'd say no? Because, I can tell you now, we can all see how much she loves you. There's no way she'd say no."

Bucky ran a rand through his hair as he looked up at the memorial portrait of Steve dressed in his first Captain America suit. Next to it were portraits of Tony and Nat and Vision. All their faces smiling and proud. Even though it was a way of commemorating all they'd done, of honouring those who fell, Bucky couldn't help but feel their smiles were mocking him right now.

"It's not that," Bucky said. "I was afraid she'd say yes. How fucked up is that?"

Sam let out a deep breath, "Actually, it ain't that fucked up."

"I just couldn't shake the feeling that if I kept putting off asking her, then I could somehow stop this fucked up world we live in from finding some way to ruin one of the last few good things I have left."

“Fucked up world, huh?” Sam's eyes fell on the wall of portraits instinctively, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. "I get it. People like us, we get accustomed to a certain degree of loss. After a while, we begin to anticipate it."

Bucky’s head fell back onto the wall with a light thud, "Yeah, that's round about it. Guess you and I aren't so different, Tin-can."

"Listen, don't take this to mean I want you to buy me matchin' friendship bracelets or braid each other’s hair but…" Sam's fist tapped Bucky's right arm, nudging the frozen stiff soldier. "If you need to talk to someone, once all this is over, I know someone who can help."

Sam's sincere words caused Bucky to swallow loudly. He hated feeling vulnerable. Despite Shuri's great work at undoing what Hydra had done to his fractured mind, he still had a lot of their training ingrained in him. He was trained to be a lone wolf and despite how hard he tried to let people in, it was still something he struggled with. Perhaps that was an old habit he needed to change.

"Thanks, Sam. I might just take you up on that."

"Good, now get some rest. You aren't no good to me or Y/N if you burn yourself out before we get a lock on her co-ordinates."

Bucky sighed, "Alright. You gonna go after Wanda?"

Sam thought on Bucky's question for a moment, "With her firepower, I think she can handle herself."

Bucky groaned as he picked himself off the floor and offered Sam a hand, "That's not what I meant."

Sam grumbled as he dusted his sweatpants once off the floor, "I know. She's angry. I think all this has brought back a lot of pain she's been keepin’ buried. I think, despite how bad the circumstances are, she needs to have an outlet for all that anger. She needs to burnout."

Sam glanced over at the portrait of Vision for a brief pause and then back at Steve's, doubt clouding his usually clear eyes. "Until then..."

Bucky placed his hand on Sam's shoulders, "You're doing proud by him. Don't doubt that. It's a heavy mantle to carry. Steve left behind big shoes to fill. You're a good leader, it just takes time. An adjustment period."

Sam chuckled wistfully and patted Bucky's hand on his shoulder, "Yeah, thanks Bird-man."

Bucky hummed something reassuring but his eyes were still dark, they made him look lonelier than he probably felt. A part of him still found solace in seclusion and that part of him wanted to be alone with his feelings.

Bucky left the room, his slumped shoulders informing Sam of his state of mind despite his attempts to try and act as though he now had things under control.

Sam looked up at Steve's portrait one more time, "We're a mess without you man."

~Elsewhere

The sound of girls playing in the back yard softened Wanda's mood slightly as she approached the wooden porch. The childish laughter and squeals reminded her of Pietro as a young, energetic boy.

Ever since she lost Vision, Wanda had been thinking about Pietro more and more. There was a darkness looming over her and the only time she felt somewhat like herself was during the small moments she and Y/N would share together. The red hue brightening her eyes fizzled out like a worn-out candle's flame.

Wanda felt heavy. Her heart threatened to sink back into sadness at the realisation that she may very well lose Y/N too.

With shaky hands, Wanda's petite, ring covered fingers rapped on the wooden door in slow repetitive stroke.

She didn't know what she was doing here, or why she had thought it a good idea, but she was here and she couldn’t unring this bell.

When the door opened, Wanda's fingers fidgeted slightly as she cleared her throat -her old accent slipping out between vowels from urgency.

"I- I'm sorry to just turn up here. I should have called ahead, b- but… I need your help."

"Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Wanda nodded.

The door swung open wider, letting Wanda into the house.

The water waved and lapped softly against the edges of the tub, toes curled at the end of the tub as your head tilted backwards in euphoric bliss. Steve's warm chest heaved up and down behind you, your body moving with the strong motions of his chest. His hands working tantalising circles around your lower body submerged under the hot water and fizzling out bubbles. The scented candles flooded your senses, numbing the former migraine that once agitated your brain.

Steve's heated breath tickled your ear as he whispered sweet nothings, causing your fingers to wrap around his nape.

"You like that?" He increased the pressure around his fingers making you gasp and move instinctively into his touch. Water spilt over the tub and onto the floor.

"Mmmm, yes," you moaned, toes curling and uncurling.

A low rumble escaped his lips right when they found the nape of your neck and placed suckling kisses on it.

"How about we take this to the bedroom?" He rumbled lowly, desire saturating each word.

"Yessss," you strained against his surgical touch. It was as though he knew your body better than you did.

Steve manoeuvred your body so you were no longer laying above him and he stepped out of the tub, water dripping from his wet body. His muscles seemingly glistening from the light hitting the moisture dripping off him. He turned around and instantly swooped you out of the tub, marching you towards the bedroom with hooded eyes burning across your equally wet body.

***

The coffee maker gurgled loudly as it filled with dark coffee that probably tasted as strong as it smelled. You reached into the fridge for the jug of orange juice and closed the fridge shut with your bare foot.

Steve was dressed in a three-piece suit (minus the tie) that hugged his frame flatteringly while he read the newspaper with a half-eaten plate of pancakes. A sub-headline caught your attention. It read: ‘Silver-Blue Blur Spotted in Sokovia?’

You poured yourself a glass of orange juice and sat back down on the table, a small tablet running through the highlights of the week.

Several headlines read: ‘Hydra Seizes Stark Assets; Director Pierce Re-Instates Winter Soldier Program; The Iron Maiden's Reign of Terror Continues; Peter Parker Still Missing; Asgardian Queen Hela Threatens War; Mischief in Moldova?’

"The Iron Maiden?" You repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

Steve noticed your brow was arched in suspicion, your lips pursed in thought, small dimples forming on your cheeks.

"Hydra believes Pepper Potts is trying to recruit more anarchists into whatever remains of Shield," he said nonchalantly as he took his empty mug and refilled it with more coffee. "Our drones spotted Pietro Maximoff in Sokovia earlier this week. Which is not surprising since this is the anniversary of his sister’s death."

You shook your head, unable to reconcile what he was saying.

"Wanda's dead?" You whispered to yourself so Steve wouldn't hear you.

Another migraine pinched at the base of your skull, causing pain to shoot through your eye while you reached for the orange juice. Your vision doubled as the pain worsened and you knocked the glass over, one hand bracing against your temple as you hissed.

"Ahhggg!" You yelped.

Steve set his Hydra stamped mug on the counter and rushed to your side, cupping your face in his strong hands.

"Again?" He asked with calm eyes but a disturbed face.

"Y-yeah..." you barely managed to get the words out.

Steve rushed to the bedroom and suddenly the image of you and Wanda sitting on a couch with cups held between your fingers came to life across the room like a projection. By the stove, a man with long dark hair looked out through your window, the smell of burning toast tickling your nostrils. The morning light obscuring his reflection.

You glanced down at your ring and felt an insurmountable measure of guilt, when you looked back up the projections vanished, leaving an ashed taste in your mouth. Your thumb kept rotating your ring like a nervous tick, your eyes frantically flickering from the couch to the stove in search of the ghosts you had just seen.

Questions that couldn't be answered screamed inside you as you started to hyperventilate. Why were you and the Scarlett Witch acting like buddies? Who was the man with the blue and gold-tinted metal arm? Why did all this feel more real than the furniture you were sat on? Why was Steve taking so damn, fucking long to get your pills?

"What is going on?" You said in fear, unable to trust your own mind.

As if on cue, Steve came back out with your pill bottle, one small pill already placed on his outstretched palm. You devoured it thankfully and let out an appreciative sigh as Steve kissed your numbing temples.

Steve pulled out his phone and started dialling.

"What are you doing?"

Steve looked at you oddly, "I'm taking the day off, my wife isn't at her best."

You held up your hand to stop him, "Nonsense, your work is more important."

"Hey," he hushed you as he caressed your cheek, "Nothing is more important to me than you and Sarah. Got it?"

You nodded.

"While I disappoint Pierce for the third time this week, why don't you get dressed and sign those papers we talked about. They're in my study."

You nodded again and made your way, sluggishly, towards the bedroom. Steve's muffled words growing lower and lower until you couldn't hear them all together.

***

"Do you consent to hereby becoming the legal guardian of one Sarah Carter-Rogers?" You mouthed out the question on the form.

You ticked the box yes and signed your name on the dotted line as you had done on countless other legal forms.

"Hey sweetheart, can you help me with my tie?" Steve walked in.

"Sure," you sat up from his desk and fastened his tie.

Steve peered over your shoulder, a proud smile creeping over his face when he realised you'd signed the papers.

"Huh," his smiled faltered ever so slightly. "You used your maiden name."

You were surprised by that, "I could have sworn-" you turned to look at the signature, and lo and behold, Steve was right. "Old habits, I guess."

"Hey," Steve brought your eyes to look into his. "Marriage has an adjustment period, and with your migraines, it's easy for your wires to get crossed. Don't worry."

He kissed your forehead affectionately before wrapping you safely in his arms.

"Now come on Mrs Rogers, Sharon's weekend is over. Let's go pick up our daughter," he said with an enthusiastic smile.

***

The Rolls-Royce pulled up into a small driveway leading up to a moderately sized townhouse. Toy's littered the lawn and an unopened newspaper was still lying on top of an unkempt shrubbery bush, dewdrops from the morning's cold air precipitated over the plastic sheet.

Steve stepped out the car, his hand held out for you as you scooched over the leather seats and took hold of his strong hand.

Out of the house burst a young blonde-haired girl no taller than your knee. Her pink backpack made rattling noises as it swayed from one side to the other with her running motions. Behind her, a tired-looking Sharon walked out of the house, her hair cropped short to the point you barely recognised her. Her cardigan pullover wrapped defensively around her thinning frame.

"Huh..." you squinted your eyes, unfamiliar with Sharon's new look.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"Nothing, I guess I'm just used to seeing her with longer hair," you revealed.

Steve laughed inaudibly as he crouched down waiting for his daughter to crash into him.

"Sarah, honey don't run!" Sharon shouted after her.

Sarah ignored her mother's words and jumped straight into Steve's outreaching arms, "Daddy!"

"Hey, June-bug!" Steve picked her up into a spinning hug.

You watched Steve lighten up as soon as he scooped his little girl into his arms, Sarah's giggling making the morning seem warmer than it was. In the distance, you noticed Sharon stare menacing daggers at you. You flinched and deflected your gaze to the assorted toys getting soaked from the ticking sprinklers.

A throbbing sensation sent gooseflesh up the nape of your neck as a particularly sour memory returned to the forefront of your thoughts.

Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 55%

Sharon looked worse for wear. Her eyes were puffy with dark circles making themselves at home on her face. Her hair tied up in an unkempt greasy bun. Nail edges bitten from anxiety. She stood on your apartment’s welcome mat, the look of horror pulling her mouth into an O shape as she glanced between you and Steve -a look of realisation. Steve used his large frame to shield your partially clothed body. Uneasy silence like trudging through mud. A few seconds later, the pizza delivery guy walked off the elevator and headed towards the ajar apartment door with a distraught woman staring at the occupants inside.

You gripped the boot of the car to keep yourself steady. This memory didn't hurt as much as the others. You figured the medication was finally working.

Steve noticed your small movement and set Sarah down to rub your back in slow circles. You nodded your head to signal that you were okay. Sarah hugged your leg causing you to bend down and greet her properly.

"Hey, June-bug, how was the weekend?"

"It was good, we went to a big, big farm and saw horsies," Sarah had a hard time enunciating some of her words, making them sound incomplete.

"Wow! Horsies!" You gasped in an exaggerated tone causing Sarah's bubbly laughter to ripple out in its regular high pitch. You felt your spirits lift from that simple act.

Steve stroked Sarah's head while he spoke to you, keeping her out of earshot. "Hey, I'm gonna go talk to Sharon, tell her the paperwork’s been finalised."

“Good luck,” You blew air out of your mouth and cocked your head to the side, eyebrows rising in acknowledgement of that uneasy task. You stroked Steve's chest, "I'll strap little June-bug here into the car seat."

Steve walked off towards Sharon while you walked around the car with Sarah holding your hand.

When you fastened her into the child seat, Sarah pulled out a pine cone and handed it to you.

"Look what I found!"

“Wow! A pinecone, for me? Thank you, June-bug!”” You accepted the small pinecone. There weren’t many conifer trees nearby for at least a few miles out of the city. Sharon must have taken her far out of the city. "Huh, how far was this farm?"

Sarah's arms spread far apart as she sing-songed, "Faaaaaaaaar."

Without thinking, you pocketed the pinecone and glanced out the tinted window to look for Steve. He and Sharon were having a heated discussion, but they both tried to make everything appear normal.

Sarah glanced over, her smile falling, "Mommy and daddy fighting again."

You tapped Sarah's little button nose, "No they aren't fighting, they're just..." you glanced at Sharon. She was more animated in her gestures than before, pointing and frowning at the car. Steve held one hand up, probably in a feigned efford to calm her.

Speckles filled your vision as another memory burdened your peripheral.

Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 58%

Sharon lobbed something glass at Steve's head. He ducked as it shattered on the wall. Your throat had all but glued shut, you didn't have the nerve to get a word in. "Homewrecker!" rang through your small apartment. “Don’t act like things were fine. We haven’t been fine in a long time.” Steve words were cold. “I’m not the one who just got caught with his pants down! How old is she anyway?”

When the pain subsided and your vision cleared, Steve was already sliding into the car. His jaw clenching but his voice soft as he turned to Sarah with a big smile, "Alright, who's ready for our day at the park?"

Sarah smiled but it wasn’t as animated as before, “Picnic!”

Steve laced his fingers into yours, the tension from his unpleasant conversation making his grip feel slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t say anything though.

***

Steve tossed a giddy Sarah up into the air a few dozen times while you laid out the picnic basket. The park had a few patrols passing through- peacekeepers were a mandatory presence since the Accords branded Shield as terrorists. A few other families were out too. You tried to get in the same fun spirit as Steve and Sarah, but something about how dishevelled Sharon looked haunted you. You began to imagine how easy everything could slip away. How easy you could end up like Sharon. Guilt clawed its way back through you.

When Steve sat down next to you, he placed a kiss on your head and noticed you didn't reciprocate with your signature smile.

"You okay?" He asked.

You kept your eyes on a trail of ants marching towards an open lunch box with grapes, "Are you happy? Despite everything we went through… everything we did?"

Steve got tense, his eyes falling on Sarah with what seemed to be shame. "I'm not going to act like it's been a fairy-tale. People rarely feel complete, especially in our world, given what we do. I was content before you came along. Sometimes being content isn’t enough, you reminded me of what was possible.”

Steve looked back at you, his face lit up as he brought your finger to his lips for a loving kiss, “And, yes, despite everything, I am happy."

You glanced down at your wedding ring, your frown up turning into a numb smile.

Steve drew you in for a proper kiss and all your worries ebbed away. His large, calloused hands sliding along your folded thighs, a guttural moan escaping his throat as you laughed at his hungry kisses.

“We’re in public, Steve...” you pretended to be embarrassed by his publicly affectionate actions, but truthfully the only time things made sense was when he kissed you.

“That’s never bothered you before,” he said with a raspy voice. Then Sarah’s laughter rippled outward from a few paces away, her form looking much smaller from this distance as she blew bubbles out of a small looped plastic wand. Steve groaned with displeasure, “But I suppose you’re right.”

You licked your lips and straightened your posture before feeding Steve a grape.

Suddenly both your cell phones beeped.

You both groaned from the impending disruption of your day off.

Steve looked at his phone and scrolled through a long docket before swearing under his breath.

"They need us back in the field," he said through a clenched jaw. He wasn't amused with the last-minute work call.

Your eyes widened when you read through your own docket, "They've managed to trace the Iron Maiden back to her hideout."

"Call the babysitter would you, I'll go get Sarah."

Steve walked over to Sarah and lifted her onto his shoulders.

You sighed, dialling the number of the babysitter, "So much for my day off."

***

The dark-tinted tactical SUV raced passed several blocks. You were suited up and fastening on your gloves. Your partner Clint sat beside you, checking the edges of his katana. He had yet to fully fasten on his arm-guards leaving the identical bullet hole scars on his palms exposed. There was also a matching sized hole drilled through the katana’s grip, some of the metal bent outward jaggedly.

Like clockwork, the memory attached to those scars rung through your head. You squinted your eyes shut for a moment.

Framework>Data Banks> Memories> Memories synchronised: 62%

A panorama of open country raced nauseatingly across the speeding car's window. A ‘Welcome to Budapest’ sign on the highway. An ambush. The snipers nest releasing soviet made hollow-point bullets into metal car doors. Clint's sword sliced diagonally across a red-haired woman’s face. A single bullet ripping through Clint's hands that were griped on his sword for the finishing blow. A scream, a painful cry, a worried shout. You tackled your partner to the ground. The red-haired woman making a run for it. Steve throwing his shield. The metal impacting with a spine so intensely it crushed the spinal cord. Defector Maria Hill laying paralysed from the waist down. A shield emblem printed on her right jacket pocket. Clint's hands trembling as you wrap them in bandages, his face contorted in anger as he failed to move his fingers. “She better pray we never cross paths again!”

"Hey, you good partner?" Clint placed his hand on your back, having noticed your discomfort.

"Bad week is all," you reassured him as you opened your eyes. “You ever going to repair the hilt on that? It can’t be comfortable to hold with the metal bending out like that.”

Clint chuckled and made a fist rigidly with both his hands, one at a time. When they opened up again, several of his fingers moved like iced joints. A painful sneer enlarging his nostrils.

"Are you okay?" You asked him.

Clint fastened on his gloves, "Just cramps. How's lover boy?"

"Always with the deflecting,” You shook your head. “He's… been on edge about something lately. I just feel like something's not… right."

Clint sheathed his sword and pulled his mask out from under his seat, "Maybe it's because you chose not to go on your honeymoon. He is old fashioned after all. Probably all that pent up sexual tension turning into plain tension."

Clint laughed at his jab, you punched his midrib hard.

"Shut up," You looked over the mission brief one more time and then checked your guns. "If this really is the Iron-Maiden's hideout, Romanoff might be there..."

Clint turned stiff at the mention of Natasha's name. His fist-clenching so tight it strained against his leather gloves.

"Good," he said menacingly as he fastened on his mask.

The black SUV's rolled up in an old brick house neighbourhood. You placed your comms unit in your ear and unholstered your gun.

"Look alive people, time to storm a castle."

You and Clint exchanged a fist bump, the simple action triggered a searing pain to braze through your mind like a cheese grater. You gasped, ground your molars together and banged your head against the leather seats of the SUV. The memory wasn't clear, it was hazy like a half-forgotten dream. An image of a man with long hair, lips pulled in a reluctant smile, flickered in your mind like a loose light fixture. You couldn't see past his top lip, but the thought of him filled you with something you hadn't felt in a long time: safe.

The headache subsided almost as quickly as it came, you blinked several times.

"You good?" Clint asked once more, his serious tone lacerating through you.

You nodded, took a breath and hopped out of the car. Gun out of its holster, you took up tactical positions and stormed the old brick apartment complex in strategic waves of intimidating force. The sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air above drew your attention. Steve was seated inside, fully geared and ready to jump onto the roof.

Over the comms, you heard Clint say, "One with the least take down numbers buys the first round at McCredie’s."

"You're on!" You challenged.

“Easy there, Mrs Rogers,” Steve said cooly. “We know that if you lose this bet, you’re just gonna make me buy the round.”

“Better make sure to send all the stragglers my way then, honey.”

Clint grappled to a high floor, “Hey that’s cheating.”

The sound of Steve bursting through a window filled the comms, “No, that’s just a perk of being married to me.”

You chuckled as you fired off several shots at the enemy.

PART THREE: WHO THE FUCK IS BUCKY?

AFWHI tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

tags:@ladybugsfanfics

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #steve x you #bucky x you x steve #bucky x you #counterpart fic #framework fic #marvel imagine #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #sharon carter #clint barton

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etudaire · 6 years

Text

A big bang of “how to” stuff

There I was again tonight forcing laughter faking smiles so I made up this long ass post for y'all!

So you a potato. Me a potato. World conquered by we potatoes. But potato need survival tips. So your brotato (get it? Bro potato?) help you out. Yay potato. Go go potato.

Study related stuff :

1. Get good grades

Catch concepts, not chapters. Your portion is most likely gonna be super vast, so it’s helpful to know a little something from every chapter rather than knowing just 50% of your syllabus.

Figure out which concepts are important and master them.

Keep all assignments completed at least 1 day before submission date. This isn’t always possible but trust me if you do this you’re guaranteeing marks for proper submission. Job done early? Proof check and add touches to enhance that essay!

Let the teachers know that you’re working hard. I actually passed math because my math teacher knew I was working super hard on my math skills. Participate in the class, gather a bunch of doubts and then dump them on your teacher when the chapter ends.

Try not to miss lectures because chances are you’ll remember that silly mnemonic your friend made up in class and get the answer correct.

Analysis of your exam type is super important. Want me to make a long ass post about it?

2. Be more productive

Having a stuydjo/bujo by your side helps hella lot.

Plan plan plan. Lists, organise lists and colour code them. Basically become Monica Geller Bing and you’re set for life.

Motivational quotes from pinterest almost make me guilty for not being productive and force me to do something.

Before starting your study session, dance around to upbeat music for like 5 minutes. You’ll see the difference I promise.

Seek out inspiration from your smart friends /tumblr friends /people you look up to by constantly reminding yourself about them. I always think of hermione granger because even randomly picturing her with books in my mind ignites that badass boss feeling complying me to study tf up.

3. Manage your time

Studyjo/bujo saves your life.

Wear a watch all the damn time, it will remind you of how much time you’re spending doing nothing. You’ll end up saving several extra minutes!

List out what you’re gonna do every hour of the day on a sticky note and refer to it when you feel lazy.

Get a super nice friend /parent /sibling who will constantly remind you to utilise your time.

Think of time as currency and pretend that it’s all a game where you need to save up as much money as you can to become a billionaire. Save up your time and become rich af.

4. Avoid procrastinating

Stduyjo/bujo again. You know the drill now.

A little bit of exercise before starting work generally works you up and sets the correct mood.

Knowing how ahead your friends are from you often makes you wanna catch up so try getting that motivation.

Set goals + rewards that actually matter to you. Maybe a face care spa day isn’t your thing but munching on a snickers bar is. Treat yo self.

Tell someone a detailed plan of what you are going to accomplish the next day. Now whenever you see that person you’ll want to prove to them that you’re doing what you promised. Or the guilt may drive you too.

Appearance related stuff :

1. Look more put together

Try the lipstick trick. There are days when you do not have the time /want to put on makeup, so just put on a lipstick that matches your outfit and you’ll automatically create an illusion of being more put together, boss af and fabulous.

Try out cheap (potato can’t afford sorry) but elegant accessories. If it’s a necklace try tucking it under the collar of your shirt and see the magic. Stick to one staple accessory that’s gonna be your trademark.

Tame that mane potato. Your hair isn’t gonna detangle itself. You gotta do it. I mean, don’t you love your hair?

Minimalistic colours rock. Some outfits never go old like flannels or white shirts or black dresses.

2. Feel beautiful

The lipstick does the trick for me.

Putting my hair in a sky high ponytail makes me feel like I’m a queen or something.

Save little compliments for yourself as reminders and when you get them you’ll feel 10x more beautiful than before.

Mind related stuff :

1. Deal with burnout/slump

Try to accomplish super tiny stuff. Break down every task into micromolecular basics.

Give yourself a ted talk. It works.

Sometimes the best way of dealing with burnout is by detoxing from the thing that caused burnout. Stay away form books and after some time you’ll actually want to study.

2. Study with slumps/mental illness

Step one is to finish homework /assignments. If you can concentrate on them, you’re good to go.

Do not take up a lot of load, just skimming through textbooks, reviewing notes, going over flashcards should do the trick.

If you desperately need to get shit done, just ignore the fact that you do not want to do it. It’s harsh on your mind but desperate times require desperate measures.

Avoid forcing yourself to study because you’ll not retain info like that.

Take it easy. But consistently. Maybe just one topic a day. But do not miss a day. A steady everyday practice goes long way in the future.

3. Strengthen self control

There are several apps that can help you with this, like forest. My top pick is the Tide app which has a gorgeous interface and super aesthetic timers with new pictures everyday. I shit you not every time I quit my pomodoro I feel the guilt of having killed 1000 puppies its worse and I avoid doing that at all costs.

If you study in your room, keep your phone in the kitchen for some time. Your lazy ass is less likely to get up and use the phone.

Switching the phone off before starting a study session works because I care for my phone like a baby and it feels horrible to switch it on and off and on and off.

Practice 30 minutes of digital detox everyday. You don’t have to study at that time, just stay away from everything that is technology. Read and book, eat a fruit, make a sandwich, paint, sing, dance, exercise. Study if you want. Just no gadgets.

4. Deal with stress

Yoga works. Potato body ain’t that flexible so just breathing exercises for a start is also enough.

Highly recommended : brain dump every night before sleeping can ensure that you’ll not stay up too late pondering over the meaning of your existence and world politics.

Having a hearty talk with someone you trust will also lift weight off your chest.

Pin point the cause of your stress and annihilate the problem. Slay it.

Life related stuff :

1. Drink more water

Carry a cool ass bottle of water with you every frigging where.

Make it a rule to have a drink everytime you go to the loo or you take a bath /shower.

Replace one of your daily caffeines /sugars with water. You don’t have to get rid of coffee because that’s just non potato ish, but maybe that third cup could be replaced with water.

Try a game thingy. Maybe everytime the word ‘procrastination’ pops in your mind take a drink. Wow, I’m so creative *sighs for eternities*.

2. Be more healthy

5 minute stretches right after getting up works you up.

Try one of those YouTube videos of 15 minute workouts. You can have 3 such workouts through the day and call yourself a fit potato.

Replacing one packet of junk food with nuts/fruits also works.

Everytime you hear someone say something related to money, have a banana. Random much? Nope, bananas are known to increase hormones that make you happy in your body, meaning you’ll feel full and happy. Maybe offer the person a banana too.

3. Be more happy

Eat bananas!

Take pictures of things you love, not things your followers love.

Puppies are a source of eternal joy.

Reading goofy/cheesy/romance books make you giggle and feel good in general.

Watching cheesy films or good ass romcoms works just well.

Friends was created for a reason.

Writing down what you accomplished today gives a sense of pride and satisfaction. Take that shit.

Tumblr has shitposts made basically to make you happy.

4. Find your true calling /figuring tf out what you wanna do with your life

Lists lists lists. Subjects you love, you hate, you’re good at, you suck at.

Consulting your teachers, family etc and find out what they think you’re good at. Sometimes other people can see traits of yours better than you.

Career tests rock.

You’ll figure it out in the end somehow.

And that’s about it for now folks, hope this helps. See y'all laterz~

Etudaire ♥

#study #studyblr #stud tips #masterpost #life #mental health #studyspo #studysthetics #productivity #motivation #inspiration #exams #grades #i'm procrastinating #mind #water #van studies

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a-flower-crown-shark · 5 years

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This one got LONG y'all tagged by Jay from @hotforhandman, who may I say has delightful taste in both men and musiciens

Nickname: Sara

Zodiac: Scorpio

Height: 5'55

Last movie I saw: Ahh shit you got me I'm not really a movie person, I wanna say… Thelma and Louise back in December ? Started Red Cliff (y'all remember that one post about the hot chinese general who fucked up everyone's minds with both his brains and his smile ? THAT) with my best bro but didn't have time to finish it

Last thing I googled: "Barbie girl playing while you are in a wet cave full of rats" LOOK,,

Favorite Musician: OoF I adore Brendon Urie, but also Bigflo et Oli (they're a duo of french rappers I CANNOT recommend them to you enough, their latest song is on refugees and f u c k, man) and Mafumafu (a Japanese singer with an incredibly sweet voice ??)

Song stuck in my head: "Sex Bomb" from Plushenko 2001 Ice skating routine. If you don't know what I'm talking about, google it. If you do, congrats now it's gonna be in your head for the next three weeks you're welcome

Other blogs: None !! My blog is just a complete shit pile of everything I like which I think is very sexy of me

Followers: haHA you WISH you KNEW

Following: 93 ?? Damn gotta check out more of y'all's blogs

Amount of sleep: Well before this year I mostly dealt on four hours and three Red Bulls, buuuut I had a burnout (guess fucking why) so therapy makes me sleep between 9 and 10

Lucky numbers: 0, 3, 7, 9. I don't really believe in lucky numbers I just thing some numbers… look good. Like. The shape. Nice.

Dream Job: Literature teacher in a big university, which is GREAT because that's exactly what I'm studying for 👌👌👌 Accomplish your dreams kids

What I'm wearing right now: White crop top with a very low cut (look I have big boobs I ain't gonna hide them you never know where your future sugar daddy might be), high waisted pale blue jeans, a light sky blue blouse tied like a sexy cowboy because I woke up feeling like a sexy cowboy, and iridescent fake shark teeth in glass

Favorite food: Sushi. I would absolutely, and I cannot stress this enough, absolutely kill a man for ikura

Languages: Bilingual in English and French, ok in Spanish and Japanese, b a r e l y able to say three words in Arabic (I'M SORRY DAD)

Can I play an instrument: I could play the first six seconds of Castle on a Cloud when I was fourteen if that answers your question

Favorite song: Changes almost every month !! Right now it's It Took Me By Surprise by Maria Mena g o d it's fucking good

Random fact: Have you ever tried being in slutty lingerie behind a curtain with thirty twelves years old playing badminton on the other side, while holding a Russian dealer's gun in a christian chapel in Canada while your friends film you for a project. Because I have.

Describe your aesthetic: Soft pastels, lace lingerie, flower crowns, rainy day from a window, gold binded books and archaic art, cherry blossom tree in early bloom, lipstick mark on an inner thigh

Tag ten people (I'm tagging a bunch of people whose blogs I really love but don't know anything about ?? I'm excited to learn about y'all if you want to !!!)

@ash-callenreese @codenamesazanka @troll-husband @theworsttrollhunter @everyserohanta @gay-luckyluke @ds9shameblog @cutiepiesub @the-ferolind @sweetgeneandtheriskyfixins

#tagging game #about me myself and i

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filmsunstuck · 5 years

Text

Why are artists the only people we encourage to have feelings?

While rewatching the 2009 MGM remake of “Fame” recently (I know, why do I do this to myself, etc), I found myself watching a trope that I feel like I’ve seen a thousand times before, but had yet to be articulated. Malik (Collins Pennie) is sitting in a room while all of his peers face him. He has just finished detailing the death of his sister, when his teacher jumps in and asks him to expand not on the facts of her passing, but on his feelings surrounding the event. “But I wanna know how you felt, and I think you need to know how you felt,” Mr. Dowd tells him, on the spot, in front of 20 other students. Malik blows up and leaves, but not before his superior informs him that “theater is not a place for cowards.” And just like that, the formula has become clear: learning how you feel and expressing that feeling is is the opposite of cowardice, it is bravery.

This specific type of character development is found in other films too: in “Raise Your Voice” (2004), Terri is unable to process the death of her brother until she shakes off her overpowering father and starts pursuing vocal training. In “Brigsby Bear” (2017), James uses film to learn not only the truth about his upbringing, but to come to terms with it as well. Hell, basically the entire premise of the “High School Musical” franchise is Troy learning to be okay with having feelings, while simultaneously exploring his newfound talent in theater. Time and time again, the idea that it is imperative for creatives to listen to their hearts crops up, even sometimes allowing those around them to be enlightened by whatever final performance takes place, usually with lots of lens flares.

Morality themes are often times found in films targeted at children, and I think the examples I listed above are emblematic of that. However, learning to embrace emotion is nearly always presented in the context of a creative field: sing a song, perform a dance, produce an album, deliver a monologue, direct a film, hit the drums REALLY hard. I can’t think of any other genre, kid-centered or not, where the acceptance of one’s internal state is not just tolerated, but required. Did anyone in “Remember the Titans,” “Hoosiers,” or “Rudy” tell a kid that they need to go home and practice until they don’t just know how to do something, but why, and to verbalize that for the people around them? Has anyone in the entire MCU had a publicly therapeutic moment, where their emotions were considered a true necessity for success? I’m talking more than a knowing glance or an offscreen change of heart. These are common moments in theater kid movies, and at best subtleties everywhere else. And that’s kind of worrying to me.

It makes logical sense that if your job is to create things out of thin air, you probably need to keep tabs on your brain. Emotions provide the juice for that motor; they allow your brain the energy to travel off in some strange direction, where hopefully you can make some new connections and get the job done. But most of us will never have to be creative in our day-to-day lives. Sure, we could get fancy with some problem solving skills, maybe buy an adult coloring book or two, but there isn’t much actually encouraging us to keep in touch with our current mental state. Too often, most of us view emotions as things to be handled at best or squashed at worst. Happiness is great, yes, but it can be quickly replaced with much more difficult responses like hurt or frustration or regret. And for those of us who were never taught the value of those things, they morph from quiet internal alerts to being issues in and of themselves. In essence, it becomes too easy to forget to actually feel your feelings.

Despite the gung-ho attitude provided by these films, creatives aren’t immune to this either. When your feelings guide your work, suddenly it can feel like currency. Once relying on creative energy for your livelihood, feelings are wasted if not utilized, but difficult to utilize under so much pressure. And when the tank runs out and the motivation isn’t there, it can be tough to jump start that engine again. There are reasons why so many people experience writer’s block, why so many creators recommend if you’re gonna start a new venture to just start it, don’t wait for any particular spark of motivation. Because you have to learn to grind it out, even if you aren’t feeling it, and you may as well get used to it now. Plus, burnout is almost inevitable; making yourself vulnerable over and over is exhausting, tapping into your psyche all the time can very easily sap you of the energy you need to make that effort worth it, to turn it into a product. There’s a cycle in that mess of emotions, with lots of loops that turn in and around and behind each other, and creatives don’t always come out the other side loving that experience.

I find myself, as usual, in between these two poles. I am not creative as a profession, but I do have responsibilities that require creative energy. I co-run a website where I have to put out weekly content with varying levels of monotony involved, I write and podcast a few times a month for a different website, and I consume and analyze a lot of media in order to prepare myself for those roles. I’ve also been in therapy for a little over a year: long enough to know how much I intellectualize my emotions, but not long enough to have re-learned a healthy way of handling them. So when I heard Mr. Dowd later in the movie tell Malik that harnessing his feelings will not only make him a better person, but a better actor, part of me was ecstatic. “Finally,” I thought to myself, “a character who will learn to prioritize what he feels, who will actually process it.” But the longer I sat with it, the more I realized how untrue that is. Because Malik didn’t learn to forgive himself or become closer with his mother. No, in the next scene, he went onstage and bared his soul in front of the crowd, and they all cheered, and his arc ended. His struggle became his brand, and his own personal cycle began.

Unfortunately folks, if you are keeping score at home, you’ll find that my conclusion here is a bit of a downer. It seems to me that other genres don’t encourage this attitude for precisely the reasons that artists are: in those worlds, it’s not deemed necessary to accomplish a goal, and in the creative world, it is. To these films, it’s not about growing as a person, it’s about growing as a character, and those two things are not synonymous, and that’s a real shame.

To those too young to know this yet: learning to accept who you are, to understand what makes you tick, it doesn’t just affect how good you are at your job, or your love life, or how many friends you have. It affects every single aspect of your existence, it allows you to grow exponentially. It’s perhaps the most important thing you could ever do, if only because it is the first step you must take. And to those who already understand that: make sure you pass the knowledge along to someone who needs it. Knowledge only finds value when it is shared, and is probably the simplest way to create the highest impact.

Five years ago, I would have benefited greatly from knowing what I have learned about myself and how my brain works. Five years from now, self-reflection and embracing my emotions will allow me to feel more at home in my mind and body than i currently do. Whether I’m a damn creative or not.

#fame #movie analysis #movie review

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megaphonemonday · 6 years

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my worst enemy

romanceisreal: Neither of them can get the baby to sleep so they start enlisting team mates to come over and help

Did I steal at least the inspiration for this premise from The Office? Definitely. Am I proud of that? Eh.

read on ao3

It was entirely possible that at the grand old age of 41, before he’d even managed to make it onto the ballot for the Baseball Hall of Fame or master the art of the one-handed diaper change, Mike Lawson had finally lost his mind.

Sleep-deprivation-induced insanity was a thing, right? They—and he didn’t know who exactly, but he was willing to bet someone out there believed this—said that too many nights without hitting a REM cycle could do that. Mike had to have left that particular benchmark in the dust at least a week ago.

He’d either lost his mind or he’d actually crashed the car on his way home from the grocery store and this was some hallucination courtesy of a concussion and an infusion of the good shit at the hospital. Because he definitely hadn’t stumbled his way through laying up his haul, probably stowing boxes of spaghetti in the freezer and the Eggos in the pantry, in his fatigue and eagerness to get upstairs for Ruby’s bedtime only to be confronted by... this.

Because this could not be real. Not unless some very serious brain damage was at play.

It was the only way to explain what Mike was witnessing in the nursery. It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him. His exhausted brain had finally given up the charade and melted into a puddle of goo that’d come dribbling out his ears any minute.

That, after all, was just as plausible as the scene he’d just walked out on: Ruby Baker-Lawson for once sound asleep at her designated bedtime.

Of course, that wasn’t what made him turn on his heel and go in search of her mother. That, if anything, was a dream come true. Had he mentioned how goddamn long it had been since he’d had a good night’s sleep?

(If he were less tired, he’d remember that he’d started keeping track on the calendar on his phone. As it was, Mike was just relatively sure it’d been too fucking long.)

The problem was who, exactly, had finally, miraculously, gotten her down for the count.

It wasn’t Ruby’s mother or father; their kid had proven over and over again that she had little respect for his or Ginny’s authority.

(Or their begging and pleading, for that matter.)

It wasn’t Al, who’d been more than happy to adopt yet another grandchild, in spite of the fact he already had a horde of his own.

It wasn’t even Blip or Evelyn, which would’ve probably stung a little. In the interest of reintroducing his daughter to something even approaching a regular sleep schedule, though, he’d learn to get over it.

He was less sure he’d get over this.

Mike wasn’t sure how to even begin wrapping his brain around the sight of Livan fucking Duarte in the nursery— settled as comfortably into the rocking chair as if he’d been the one to spend hours cursing over the incomprehensible instructions just to construct the damn thing—a sleeping Ruby nestled into the crook of his arm.

Was it too late to ask for that total mental breakdown?

“Ginny!” Mike hissed, probably too loud considering his daughter was soundly asleep for the first time in what felt like weeks just a room away. He wanted answers. Right fucking now.

Which, okay. If it was possible that Mike had actually lost his mind, it was more than possible that he was overreacting.

He knew this. Somewhere in the last reasonable part of his mind—the part that wasn’t operating solely on day-old coffee, adrenaline, and three hours of dozing, one ear always cocked for fussing from his baby girl—was fully aware that this was not the hill he wanted to die on.

(If he had to pick, he’d definitely go with something more important. Like the superiority of Empire Strikes Back over Return of the Jedi. Or implementing Pants-less Thursdays in the Baker-Lawson household like he’d tried before Ginny got pregnant.

At least as long as Ruby was too little to notice. How else was she going to get a younger sibling?

Well, given his track record, in a multitude of ways, but this would definitely up the odds, right?)

Problem was: that part, that utterly reasonable part of him that he wanted so desperately to listen to? It was weak. Defenseless. Beaten down by weeks of failure to get his daughter to do one of the four things all babies were constitutionally designed to excel at: sleep.

So much so that every other part of him—the ones that had turned a little ruthless in the face of too little rest and too much stress—had no problem squashing it like a bug.

Poor thing. It never even stood a chance.

His wife, as relentlessly productive as usual, though she had to be operating in the same thick fog of fatigue as him, stuck her head out of the laundry room but stepped into the hall when she caught sight of his thunderous expression. She padded along the plush runner, wafting the soothing scent of dryer sheets and warm linen as she approached.

Mike didn’t let himself be lulled out of his anger in spite of the way she smelled exactly the way he’d always imagined home would and looked even better. (It was always something of a marvel that Ginny’d actually agreed to hitch her wagon to his, not least because she still managed to look like a goddamn supermodel with bags under her eyes and dried spit up on her shirt.) He steeled himself, didn’t let the indignation sputter and die, instead stoking it to a crackling roar.

How could she have called him? Of all the people who would’ve dropped what they were doing to help them out—and Mike could even admit that they probably needed it—it had to be Livan?

“Seriously?” he demanded, unwilling or unable to translate his—God, there was no word for it but—betrayal into more something more eloquent.

He didn’t really need to, though. They knew each other too well—which was almost always a good thing, even if something ugly was stirring in the pit of Mike’s stomach now—for there to be any question of what he meant.

Her jaw squared, shoulders drawing back as she braced for his response to her answer: “He’s babysitting. So we can get some sleep.”

Mike snorted, even if the thought of actually getting to sleep with Ginny in the same bed at the same time nearly made him tear up in desperation. It’d been too fucking long since he’d had that and goddamn it, he missed it.

Livan Duarte, hotheaded hotshot still tearing up the NL West and coaxing Ginny through her starts, had lowered himself to babysit? And Mike was supposed to just go to sleep with him in his house? Jesus, what had the world come to?

Theoretically, it wasn’t such a bad idea. It was pretty brilliant, actually. Mike would just chalk it up to sleep deprivation that he hadn’t come up with it himself.

It was the reality of it all that bothered him. Livan had already taken one job from Mike. He couldn’t have this one too.

If Mike were just a little less exhausted, he was pretty sure he could put up a better fight. Then again, if Mike, or Ginny for that matter, were a little less exhausted, there’d be nothing to fight over.

He’d been tired before, but this was something else. Worse than any burnout from a playoff push, worse than back to back doubleheaders in the depths of July, worse than his bouts of insomnia during his separation from Rachel. Worse because there was no end in sight; he and Ginny were responsible for this mess—under ordinary circumstances Mike would never refer to his six-month-old daughter as a “mess” unless she’d managed to blow out yet another diaper, but he figured it might be allowed in this particular instance. Ruby was theirs to raise and love unconditionally and, yeah, at the moment, grit their teeth and deal with until she eventually grew up and moved out.

Which, to be clear, Mike still wanted to come only after she’d graduated or maybe turned at least 35. Still, it was a little hard to remember that sometimes.

Because for what seemed like the past eternity—but could only have been a month tops or they’d already be dead instead of just dead on their feet—little Ruby Baker-Lawson had been running her parents ragged. His own progeny.

Spawn seemed more accurate lately.

God knew Mike loved Ruby more than life itself—remember: no moving out until after she had her own 401K and maybe not even then—but would it really kill her to cut them a break? To go the fuck to sleep and stay asleep for more than an hour or three at a time?

Given Ruby’s continued refusal to do so—even in the face of her parents’ increasingly desperate tactics: swaddling, long car rides, the rock n’ play she was rapidly outgrowing, sprawling her bare-skinned and squirming against Mike’s chest to be lulled by his breathing, endless circuits of the house as Ginny bounced and rocked her into drowsiness—Mike suspected that it just might.

As soon as they thought they had her down, settled into her crib, white noise machine whirring, and began to sneak out of the room, the baby would begin to wail, upset at finding herself left alone.

On darker days, Mike found himself wondering from which parent she’d inherited her clear terror of abandonment.

It wasn’t that Mike would rather endure his daughter’s sobs, his heart broke every time her little lip so much as wobbled, but did it really have to be—

“Him?” he hissed, not bothering to keep his voice down. So what if Ruby had been quiet the whole time he’d been home and this woke her up again? Apparently, they’d hired a goddamn Cuban manny without Mike even realizing. God, how long had he been at the grocery store? “Ginny, Jesus! You called him? To our house? Where we live?”

"Neither of us are gonna be living here much longer if we can’t get Ruby to sleep through the night! We’re gonna lose our minds, Lawson,” she hissed right back, albeit at a far more reasonable volume. Any louder, though, and Mike was sure she might’ve just given in and yelled. Clearly, neither of them were at their best tonight.

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one entertaining that possibility. Maybe going crazy wouldn’t be so bad if Ginny was in it with him. It sent a funny wave of warmth rushing through him; he really did love this woman. Wouldn’t trade her or her ability to understand him for anything, not even a solid eight hours.

“Besides,” Ginny continued, apparently oblivious to the rush of affection she’d just inspired in her husband, or she wouldn’t ask, “who else should I have called?”

“Anyone!” Mike was aware there was a distinct whine to his voice, but he didn’t really care.

Out of all the people she could have asked to come lend a hand, (Blip and Ev, Salvi, Al and, weirdly because he had no kids of his own, Omar all had pretty good track records with Ruby, even if only for short periods. They were better than what Ginny and Mike were currently managing. Some other time, when Mike’s brain wasn’t shrouded in a haze of sleep deprivation, he would feel worse about the fact that his baby only went to sleep for men who weren’t him.) she had to pick the smirking asshole who’d taken his job.

After he retired on his own terms, of course, but it still fucking rankled.

She rolled her eyes. “You never complain when Omar babysits.”

Which was—

Well, absolutely true. But for good reasons!

For one, Omar had never set himself up as the Baby Whisperer, easily getting Ruby to cooperate and fall asleep where neither of her parents could. Omar definitely hadn’t looked up at Mike’s entrance into the nursery, baby cradled peacefully in his arms, smirked, and said, “Heard you needed my help, old man.”

Because for two, Mike actually scared Omar.

That’d never been true of Livan.

Of course, now Livan had even less reason to be afraid. He had an ace in the hole.

The kid loved him. She loved lots of things—strained carrots and her stuffed turtle, Ginny’s dimples and his beard—but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she loved Livan Duarte.

It was a bit of a sore point.

Even before this latest bout of sleeplessness, Ruby always lit up whenever the Cuban catcher happened to walk by when Mike took her to Petco to visit Ginny. Livan, in turn, was slightly less obnoxious while interacting with Ruby; he grinned rather than smirked and it didn’t matter if he spoke to her in crooning Spanish because it wasn’t like she really understood him anyway.

If it were anyone else, Mike would’ve been happy to admit Ruby babbling in excitement as she was danced around the Padres’ clubhouse was pretty fucking cute.

Except it was Livan and, seriously, fuck that guy.

Still, Mike didn’t really have much interest in delving into his lingering resentment and jealousy of the guy who’d taken his job.

So, he replied, “Because Omar’s not gonna teach our kid Spanish pickup lines before she can even walk.”

Ginny laughed, a short, almost hysterical sound that immediately had Mike catching hold of her hands to draw her in close. She took the invitation gratefully, but didn’t collapse against him the way he really wanted. She held herself up, looking him straight in the eye as she asked, “What did you want me to do? Neither of us have slept for more than an hour at a time all week.”

“She’s just reverse cycling,” he tried, feeble and well aware of it.

Sensing the flicker in his resolve, Ginny shifted her grip and twined their fingers together. The cool, platinum band of her wedding ring against his skin flicked a switch somewhere deep in his gut. Immediately, his hammering heart rate dropped, the flood of anger and desperation leaking away. She looked up at him, big, brown eyes weighted down by heavy shadows. Mike doubted his were much better.

“I’m this close to losing it, Lawson,” she said, honesty and a little shame coating her words. Automatically, he squeezed her hand, bringing a flicker of a smile to her face. Still, Ginny shook her head. “Livan’s the only one to reliably get her to stay down for more than an hour or two at a time, and she’s so little. She needs to sleep. If that means he has more opportunity to push your buttons, I’m willing to put up with it.”

“Because it’s not your buttons he’s pushing,” he muttered.

“Mike,” she pleaded, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and otherwise sagging against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, support and comfort all at once. He marveled, not for the first time, that in six months she’d already worked off all the baby weight. He didn’t necessarily miss the extra softness, though it’d been nice while it was there. Honestly, he loved Ginny any way he could have her. Besides. Her rack? Still phenomenal. A fact he could appreciate all the better with her pressed to him. He did manage to drag his thoughts out of the gutter to listen to the rest of her request. “I need to sleep. We need to sleep.”

She sounded so exhausted, so close to throwing in the towel in a way he wasn’t used to, not from Ginny fucking Baker, that he immediately caved.

“I know,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles up and down her back. Ginny sighed, and Mike was sure that if he kept it up, they’d fall asleep standing right there in the hall, mere steps from their bedroom. When her arms came up to wrap around his waist, and she snuggled in, warm and close and perfect, he thought he might not even mind.

Except, that was the moment Livan chose to emerge from the nursery, cradling their sleeping baby—the love of Mike’s life right alongside her mother—and smirking that insufferable smirk of his. He raised a brow at the position he found them in, but otherwise managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Mami,” he murmured, low and concerned enough that Mike felt a stab of affection rush through him; anyone who cared about Ginny that much couldn’t be all terrible, “I thought I was here to babysit. Let you and the old man get some sleep. What are you still doing up?”

Ginny pulled away and any charitable thoughts Mike might have harbored went up like so much smoke.

“We’re going, we’re going,” she replied, tugging on Mike’s hand, to lead him to their room. He followed along, only a little grudging.

“You sure it had to be him?” he muttered, low enough to seem like he didn’t mean for Livan to hear it while still making absolutely sure he did.

Ginny just squeezed his hand. Livan, though, hadn’t quite learned when to keep his trap shut.

“Don’t be mad, Lawson,” he said, that god damn smirk somehow audible. “Your girl’s just got good taste.”

Whether he meant Ruby or her mother was up for debate. Neither option left Mike feeling warm or fuzzy, though.

He glared but still allowed Ginny to pull him away, into their dark bedroom. Which was made only darker when she shut the door, cutting off the hall light and any more snark from their babysitter.

Smart move.

In the dark with just his wife to worry about—for all his faults, Livan could handle a sleeping baby on his own—the world seemed to slow down. Mike wasn’t quite so aware of the way his pulse rushed in his ears, became more attuned to Ginny’s quiet breaths filling the space, the warmth of her hand still clasped in his.

At the foot of the bed, she turned back to him. Her hands skated up his arms, over his shoulders, fingers finally lacing behind his neck to hold him just where she wanted.

Mike waited.

Not for long.

In the weak light filtering in through the windows, she leaned up to press a less than chaste kiss against his mouth. It didn’t take much convincing for MIke to sink into it, even with a cocky Cuban somewhere outside their door.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d done more than swig mouthwash; Ginny’s tongue was curled around his, sweet as the first time he’d ever kissed her. For the first time in weeks, Mike was at his leisure to reciprocate, working a hand into his wife’s—God, he was never gonna get tired of that; Ginny Baker was his goddamn wife—hair and drawing her in close. She came eagerly, leaning against him the way she had in the hall, though there was nothing weary about her now. She licked eagerly into him, rising on her tiptoes to get her own taste.

For once, nothing interrupted the moment.

For once, Mike got to languidly undress Ginny, fingertips skimming over miles of smooth, brown skin, and enjoy her hands against his arms and chest and thighs as she did the same for him.

And, yeah, once they made it into bed, they were too fucking tired to do much more than curl together and lazily kiss until their eyes and lips grew too heavy to do anything other than give in to the heady call of sleep. But Mike wasn’t going to complain.

Sure, it was Livan playing babysitter to his daughter, but there were worse things in the world. Especially since it meant Mike was going to wake up after a full night’s sleep with Ginny Baker in his arms. Maybe, come morning, they’d even be able to finish what they started. A little morning sex would more than cancel out putting up with a smirking Cuban in his house.

Plus, once he was properly rested, Mike could start coming up with some appropriate payback. Livan could joke about Ginny’s, or Ruby’s as yet unproven, taste in men all he wanted.

Just like Mike could bribe his former teammates to replace all of Livan’s expensive hair products with glitter-infused knockoffs.

He chuckled in spite of himself.

From her place draped over his chest, Ginny let out a sleepy sigh, nuzzling her cheek over his heart as she settled more firmly against him. Mike didn’t bother reining in his beaming smile as he dropped one last kiss on her forehead and closed his eyes, arms tightening around the love of his life.

Didn’t matter how satisfying it would eventually be; payback could wait. He had something much better to focus on now.

#bawson #bawson fic #pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #i am 95% sure #all of my kidfic #takes place in the same time line #i haven't gone back to check #re: continuity #but from now on #that's what i'm thinking

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chcrrysprite · 3 years

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okay I’m gonna ask H, I, N, S, T

-lightning :)

:))) thank you :)))

H.) How would you describe your style? oh jeez i actually have a style identity crisis like every other time i write something,,, i have no idea!! i really love the super simple fics with short paragraphs and humor and sentences that are easy on the brain, but then i also love those super detailed fics that force you to read every single word as slowly as you can, so i think that i tend to just fall in between those two on accident. my fics definitely end up more towards the complicated side, though - i can’t seem to help myself and the word count always gets RIDICULOUSLY high

I.) Do you have a guilty pleasure (in reading or writing?) theo angst >:) but specific theo angst. don’t get me wrong, i love the regular ‘his-life-sucks’ angst and will write that a million times over, but i especially love writing theo’s self-loathing, self-conscious inner-monologue. in a very iitsoy way, i love writing about theo falling in love (most of the time with liam, in that case with hayden too) and feeling so hopeless about it because he thinks he’ll never get it. like he loves liam so much that he’s happy to just be around him but like he’s also silently dying every time liam smiles at him because he wants to see it for the rest of his life and ‘knows’ that he will never be able to. as for a reading guilty-pleasure, it’s when one or both of them is oblivious as hell, which is very common in the thiam community, so there’s luckily never a shortage. they are pretty dumb. the fics write themselves.

N.) Is there a fic that you wish someone would write (or finish) for you? god. like, all of my WIPs / ideas on my list? i love writing but i am always JUST keeping my head above the water and fighting through burnout all the time LMAO. i just want them to be done!!!

S.) Any fandom tropes you can’t resist? hmmm...i’m not sure!! i don’t know if this one counts as a trope (probably because i use it and read it so often) but i do really love the whole werewolf intuition thing. being able to hear heartbeats, smell emotions, detect tiny details...perfect for a love story and comes in handy a lot. it’s honestly so hard to write one without using those details now...trying to write a fic where they’re both humans and have to actually figure things out themselves without listening to each other’s heartbeats or taking a deep breath is for some reason uncharted territory now even though i, a human without the ability to hear heartbeats or take even a normal deep breath (asthma babey!!), am the one writing it.

T.) Any fandom tropes you can’t stand? not many, but probably when they’re like...TOO rough with each other. i don’t mind the werewolf roughness if it’s like consensual and in a good context (which doesn’t have to be sex), but sometimes they’ll just be violently fighting for no damn reason?? i think a lot of people saw the claws and the fangs and the healing and Liam’s IED and decided that it would only be natural if they were essentially trying to kill each other the whole damn time. i especially don’t like it when they’re in a relationship and liam does something like try to slash theo’s chest apart with his claws because he’s mad,,,uh? just because you CAN fatally injure your boyfriend doesn’t mean you SHOULD-

thank you for the ask ily :)

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thinkingaboutsanfrancisco · 4 years

Text

Like water bursting free from the confinements of the dam, he finally starts to pour out the cocktail of sweet, delectable, context for me. It quickly drowns out his meaningless suggestion of being concise, but I'm not going to refute statements of immunity. I'm not mad, his lack of pith doesn't bother me. Shocking, I know, but at this point it's the only thing that is going to get me to any potential realm of understanding so I can possibly add anything of value before I eventually return home and resume anxiously stewing in my own regrets. It has to be getting late by now. Pulling out my phone and openly checking the time would be rude, so I have to take a long deep breath to still that pestering, habitual, urge. My homework was done on Friday night, surviving school on no sleep is a mastered art by now, my phone hasn't buzzed and the owl cars can carry me home if need be. I don't need to look at it. I don't need to be reminded again. Shifting more towards him, I extend my arm on the back of the bench and bring it up to rest my cheek on my palm, tuning into the spectacular story of S and Lyd.

It all begins when they're...even younger than I am? Really? Yes, he's older than me, but not by much. Certainly not enough to warrant this old man-whippersnapper dynamic he keeps putting us in. But, technically, he is right. They're...thirteen and fourteen? Middle school?! Oh Jesus Christ...

Say no more, S. I get exactly the nauseatingly obnoxious tone you're going for. Anything that sprouts in eighth grade is destined to be a fucking weed. I seriously believe that it'd be best if we just abolished that year completely, let puberty set in some so that no one has to witness the horrifying process and then resume in highschool. The slight decrease in bullshit exposure would have a major impact on the state of humanity, I assure you.

His story starts off more Wonder Years wholesome than initially expected. He sees her, that dangerously random and impalpable switch is flipped in his head where everything else in his world is rendered nebulous and she's now the only thing he can focus on, he does something with it and asks her out, gets luckier than a lotto winner when she agrees, and they date. I have to admit that I'm continuing to struggle thinking of him as anything other than his current form of a lanky college student by day and my coke supplier by night. Trying to visualize his last story that took place this morning was hard enough, but I eventually could conjure it. Beyond our burners and serving our burnouts, there's always the shining side of the coin: the life that makes walking carefully through these shadows worth enduring. It might've taken a while to grasp, the autopilot we run on out here that blinds us to the human qualities of our customers and dealers takes a minute to switch off, but it's not too hard to buy him having it to comfort someone who means something to him. We've all had to be someone's shoulder to cry on at least once in our lives, him selling me discounted grams and eight balls on a Friday night doesn't exclude him from doing that on a Saturday. He's human too.

Him as a teenager though, younger than I am...I fucking can't. I keep having to put his current self in as a visual placeholder, despite knowing damn well that he didn't have facial hair or probably as long of a drawl at fourfuckingteen, but what the hell else can I do? Imagine him freaking out on her with that same cracking barely pubescent voice that I mouthed off with too? I'd rather not. It's an amusing discrepancy but just makes it more glaringly obvious of my weird spot that I've put myself in: too deep to where I'm hooked, still not deep enough to make something out of it. I need to settle down though. He's still setting up the foundation for me and I find my lips spreading into a sardonic grin when he puts out a metaphor he knows I understand. Addiction. But him being addicted to her being akin to how he's addicted to his favorite movie is such a saccharine view of it that my stomach turns like I've eaten too many Pixie Sticks. He doesn't realize how natural his voice picks up that speed, how his eyes can still grow that agape and filled with wonder. Everything he's talking about is so innocuous that it's practically rated G, which should be a welcome change given the complete smut film that was this morning, but I've seen that same foolish look in so many other people that I can't revel in the glory of that summer pinnacle he continues to hold within him now. It's a good thing too. The comedown's already here and, while there's never any subtly to the crash, there's something painful in his frank brevity. He has to rip this moment off like a band-aid because it still hurts to think about a decade or so later and...

Is this what's going to happen to me?

I know everything feels eternal on a bad night but...is it truly going to be like this forever? Am I still going to want to bash my phone against my head over all of my miscues with Ray when I'm my fucking twenties?

Quit worrying about it. I won't even know her then.

Surely I'm never gonna cross her mind twice once she graduates and leaves my sight for better pastures---or even before if she caught my stupid drift and already said bon voyage in my inbox. God knows where the fuck I'll be, but she's too good to let herself linger in my rotting brain. She's like a shooting star, a bright little blip that dazzles into my highschool life as quickly as it leaves the sky with nothing and all I can do is sit here in the dark and watch. That's just how the world works.

You can't control fate like that.

I wish I could tell New Year's Eve 2006 S this, maybe it could've spared 2015 S from having to recount a story that chews up my silly moment of existentialism and spits it out...

Initially, it doesn't start off bad but that's becoming a reoccurring theme so I'm able to brace myself for the first bout of secondhand cringe. It's nine years ago, he's drunk and oblivious this time, and she unexpectedly breaks up with him. New Year, New Me makes me groan, but it's manageable. Unlike what happens next...

"My best friend, he looks at me, and he says - I saw Lydia making out with some guy in the bathroom. Before she broke up with you.”

Any humor that I could ever have found in this situation has drained out of me like the warmth in my body as I just stare at him, struck as stunned as his friend who had the misfortune of watching it unfold. The maniacal laugh is back again, but it does nothing to shake me from being frozen by the complete and total violation of trust that thank god I've only had to aurally witness. If anything, I at least can understand his reaction now. Hell, I can fucking respect it. It must've taken years to develop the ability to even breathe normally again after hearing about that, much less pace back and forth trying to escape the inescapable. I can't even fucking move, despite my brain screaming at me to tell him that I absolutely don't want to hear anything more chilling because I think I've heard enough of this story that I've regretfully asked for. I get the jest. They had a decade long unstable relationship, everybody's wrong, and the right thing to do is for them to not get back together again. Fuck, I can even offer him a slice of optimism now. It's a good thing that it didn't work out today, S. It's a really good thing. She's as insouciant with your feelings now as she was then and the only way it's ever going to stop is if you stop being oblivious and quit letting her walk all over you. You know it and--- "It was a day after I told her I loved her for the first time. She said it back, but…I guess she didn’t mean it, huh? Anyway..."

Now I do too.

He keeps going on, something about 2008 and...I don't know why the hell he feels it necessary to bring up James Dean but it doesn't matter. I can't listen and I don't have to. There's absolutely nothing that he can say or she could do that could shock me more than that. There's nothing anybody could do that's worse. Her physically ripping into his chest and taking his heart only to run over it several times before apathetically tossing it back to him would've been better...at least the pain would have to stop after a while and he wouldn't have to linger with the chronic ache he's been suffering from. It's humane in comparison to her fatal lie...but... "I feel like I’m fucking dying. My head hurts. So that’s the brilliant story of how I went balls deep on my ex-girlfriend right after she got cheated on. You like it? You got any fucking thoughts? Let me know. Let me know, because I’m about to have a conniption if I can’t find any reason in her unceremonious sort of break-up text. Swear to god..."

If it weren't for that, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to come back to the present...which is weird because I've never physically left it. Every memory of his is new information to me and there's so much of it that it actually makes what was exchanged with her tonight seem like an eternity ago. I have to remember that he's supposed to be the one who committed a heinous act by sleeping with her after her boyfriend cheated on her, I have to remember that she came to him crying over it, I have to remember that she isn't totally heartless and that he was the only person who's ever truly been there for her. I have to remember that this is my drug dealer and some girl I've never even met and...I have to remember to be careful. I'm definitely in too deep now and it'd be just about my luck if my fate got sealed out here without any coke at stake just because I saw past all of the nostalgia and possessed the audacity to call a spade a spade.

Maybe that's why he called me out here. Maybe I'm the only person who can say it.

My eyes close as I remove the disintegrating Parliament from my lips, breathing in and trying to bring myself back to all those fucking thoughts that I had...

"Well...there is a reason. As nonsensical, unfair, and sometimes downright cruel the world can be, within it's burning core always remains a reason and...I think you know it. Or, at least, I'm led to believe you maintain a good idea of it. You said yourself that you don't know why you're surprised because it ends up in the same shit every time and I don't think you need me to elaborate on the inevitability of the result. You two are not meant to be, and no matter how good both of your intentions are or everything else that's changed in your lives, this decade long track record cements the truth. She knows what you want and if she couldn't give that to you ten years ago and couldn't give it today, she's not going to give it to you tomorrow either. The only thing that's gonna change is when you realize that Lyd the majestic fucking angel is a joke that you don't have to keep falling fool to. You shouldn't have slept with her last night and she shouldn't have slept with you either, you're both wrong and you've both have been wrong. You've come full circle. We can sit here for another two hours and agonize over how shittily she's gone about it, but the fact is that it was honest. Brutally honest, but that's become her specialty. At least it's clarity. She's decided to move on and, if you want to finally break this long and suffocating chain, you should too. No one person is worth that much pain."

#/stopyourtrain #the bros #04122015

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champhangman · 7 years

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Reckless - Part 5

Part: 5/?

Characters: AJ Styles, OFC, Baron Corbin

Summary: The newest woman on the roster finds herself making waves she never intended to, with men that are both off-limits to her.

Warnings: Nada

Previously: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Check out the Master List

Notes: Short chapter is short!

"Hey, Styles!"

"Yo," AJ called, turning to see who'd called him. At the sight of the man everyone knew as Road Dogg, he grinned and moved to meet him halfway.

"Got a little something to go over with you," Brian said, motioning for him to follow.

He hoped it was a storyline. A good one that he could sink his teeth into. He didn't worry about not being a fan favorite or anything – he was confident enough to know the crowd would enjoy seeing him practically no matter what he did – but he did fret that after the upcoming Money in the Bank event he would be nudged aside. Not forgotten, per se, but not as important as others. And though he tried to ignore rumors, there was no getting away from them, and the constant rumor lately was that they were going to give Baron the briefcase. Which rankled. Mainly because he thought the guy was a first-rate jerk. Okay, so that was the only reason. But that was enough, right?

"Fans are eating up your live show matches," Brian announced once they were in the man's office for the night. Papers and gadgets were strewn across the desk, and a laptop was open, the background showing the company's logo.

"Yeah?" AJ ventured, not sure what else to say. He'd enjoyed the mixed tags. Working with Charlotte was great. Getting to see up close how talented Kim was in the ring was great, too. And the little antics she was allowed to pull on him had been nothing but fun.

"You know Kimmy and Charlotte are in a feud," Brian went on, flipping through a stack of stapled papers. "And with the pay-per-view coming up, you and Baron are too, in a way."

"They're feudin' for number one contender, right?" AJ asked, as though he hadn't been keeping an eye on the women's TV work.

"Right. But that may change come Sunday."

Sunday. Hell, the event was approaching faster than he'd thought. "Why's it gonna change?"

"This goes no further than me and you," Brian warned.

AJ held up both hands. "You know me, man."

"Yeah, I do," he said with a quick smile. "It may change because we may have decided Kim's going to win the briefcase."

AJ whistled softly. She'd been on the roster, what, two weeks? Her getting the contract would, storyline-wise, definitely cause some bitterness. "I thought the decision wouldn't be made until ten seconds before the match."

"I'm just saying, it may happen." Brian's expression told him it definitely would. "So, this is where you come in…"

He left Brian's office a few moments later, head swirling with all the information he'd been given to digest. It looked as though more mixed tag matches were in his future, something he was definitely looking forward to. And, going by what else Brian had told him, he had a nice storyline that would carry him over for a while.

Making his way to Catering, he spotted Kim getting a bottle of water. He was about to go over and start up a conversation with her, because surely she knew at least some of the plans. He liked talking with her about work. She was knowledgeable and had that spark in her that he knew would make for a long career, barring burnout and severe injury.

He was halfway to her when his steps slowed. Baron had approached, and he felt something in his gut twist as the man slung his arm around her shoulder. It took a few seconds for him to recognize the feeling as jealousy and, trying his best to ignore the sensation, sidetracked and went to join Sami and Owens at a table. But, damn his brain, his attention remained on her.

For someone who wasn't seeing Baron, she seemed awfully happy to have his arm around her.

For someone who wasn't seeing anyone, the two looked pretty close. After what he'd witnessed them doing a couple weeks ago, he was honestly surprised to see her so keen in the guy's company. He'd had her pinned to the wall, for crying out loud. And he hadn't paid attention when she'd said stop—

"Who are you sending death glares to?" Kevin asked, interrupting his thoughts.

AJ blinked, found that Sami and Kevin were eyeing him warily, and drew in a deep breath. "Nobody. Just thinkin'."

Sami nodded in understanding. "Bad news from the boss?"

"No, no, it's not that." What' he'd heard from Brian had been good. Real good. Something he was looking forward to. "I just saw somethin' that turned my stomach."

Sami's face paled. "It wasn't the chicken, was it?" he fretted, looking to his nearly empty plate. "Or the—"

"He turns my stomach too," Kevin said quietly. "But…" He shrugged, face settling into an expression that resembled an angry bear. "She's a grown woman. She can make her own choices. She doesn't need a big brother looking out for her."

"Because I thought the chicken tasted off, and—" Sami's head jerked up. "Oh. Oh."

"Sounds like she's said that to you a few times," AJ sighed. From the corner of his eye he saw them, a mismatched couple if ever there had been one, taking seats at a table.

"More than a few," Sami corrected. "I think she was ready to tattoo it on his arm by the time him and her split."

She was wearing pink. She always seemed to be wearing pink, except in the ring. Not just pink, but a bright, vibrant pink that would look ridiculous on anyone else. Leaning back in his chair, he opened his mouth to speak when he thought he saw her looking in his direction. Then, before he could tell himself she wasn't, he noticed her getting to her feet. And then she was heading over. And then, forcing him to look at her, she was dropping into the empty chair next to him.

"Have you seen Xavier?" she asked.

"Not yet. Have you seen Bri—"

"Yes!" she blurted, eyes brimming with excitement. "Did he tell you about the—"

"Just the bit with me."

"I can't wait! I love working with you and with Char, so it's going to be amazing." She sighed happily. "But Xavier said we'd do our rematch this afternoon if you've got time."

"I'll have to double-check, but I think I do."

"Find him when you know? And text me. Oh, and don't forget to bring me my shirt," she added, hopping to her feet.

"I won't forget," he promised, eyes following her as she walked away. The jealousy didn't sting so bad now, he realized, quickly looking away before she rejoined Baron. Finding two pairs of eyes on him, he cleared his throat. "What?"

"What's going to be amazing?" Sami questioned.

"And why do you have her shirt?"

"And what's this about a rematch?"

"Are they putting you and her in a storyline?"

"Are you done?" AJ grunted, rising from his chair. He had to go recheck his schedule for the rest of the day. Then he'd have to hunt down Xavier. And find her shirt, which was neatly folded in his suitcase. "See you later, boys. I got things to do."

***

"Have you ever had a ladder match?"

"Does falling off one when I was changing a lightbulb count?" Kim smiled faintly when Charlotte groaned. "No, I haven't. I took a few bumps from one back when I was first training, but not since. Have you?"

"Well…" Charlotte sighed. "No."

"Have any of us?" Kim asked, looking to Becky, Tamina, Carmella, and Nattie. All four shook their heads, then some offered that they'd worked with ladders during training. "Oh, boy."

They were sitting in the ring, having gone through the basics of the altercation that would happen that night. Kim wasn't even officially in the match on Sunday yet. She would be announced as the sixth participant during the show, when she would interrupt Shane backstage and all but demand she be put into the match.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Nattie insisted. "I've talked to Hunter, and we…"

Kim leaned forward, listening intently as Nattie told of the plans for them to work out their match at the Performance Center. They would have it practically to themselves, as it was a non-training day. To Kim's surprise, Hunter was arranging for a couple guys to help them with spots, bumps, and working with the ladders in general. It would mean her plans of spending the day being as lazy as possible would be canceled, but she didn't mind that so much. If what Brian had told her was what would actually happen, she would need to be as comfortable as she could be with the ladders come Sunday.

It also meant she would have to cancel her dinner plans with Baron. Not that the dinner plans were huge. He'd suggested they order in and have a good talk. She had a feeling the talk would be about them and where they were heading and she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Not yet. Maybe she was a horrible person, but she wanted to keep it as uncomplicated as possible for as long as possible. Dinner, even takeout eaten on his couch, would mean they were more than just friends. Friends with benefits. Whatever they were, as long as that whatever didn't entail an actual romantic relationship.

Because she wasn't ready for that. She wasn't sure she had the mental strength to immerse herself in something so heady and thrilling. Not yet.

Especially not when her thoughts kept going to a certain pair of blue eyes…

The ladies began to break away, with echoed statements of wardrobe and photos and meetings with Brian. Pushing herself to her feet, Kim wondered if anyone was waiting to use the ring. She was opening her mouth to ask Charlotte if she would be open to doing a few moves with her when she caught sight of two men heading down the ramp.

"You gals excited about Sunday?" AJ asked once he and Shinsuke had reached the ring.

"Nervous," Kim corrected while Charlotte climbed out of the ring.

"Nervous?" he repeated, hopping up onto the apron in front of Kim. "Why are you nervous?"

"Oh, I'm not nervous about our ladder match…" she trailed with a smile. Stepping up onto the bottom rope, she scowled when she realized doing so gave her no height advantage over him. And he was supposed to be considered small? It put her exactly level with him. Exactly level with those blue eyes.

"Then what are you nervous about?"

"You boys being able to top us in the main event."

"Oh, sweetie," he sighed, shaking his head sadly. "There's no need to worry about that."

"Are you insinuating that the six of us can't put on a stellar match?" Kim glanced to the side, returning Shinsuke's smile of greeting before looking back to AJ.

"I'm sayin' that unless it's booked to be a joke, nothin' we do will be able to top it at all."

"I think you can stop kissing my butt now. I already like you," she informed.

"I ain't kissin' your butt. I'm bein' a hundred percent honest. I don't bullshit just for the sake of makin' a person like me, sweetie. Never have, never will."

Aware that Charlotte was waiting for her, even though she had no clue why, and that Shinsuke was quietly waiting for AJ, she knew she should end the conversation and get out of their way. But she was compelled to stay. "You've been in ladder matches," she began, lightly grasping the top rope.

He smiled. "Yeah, a couple."

"What would be your one piece of advice to someone who's never had one before?" she asked softly.

His shoulders rose and fell with his gentle sigh. His eyes shifted upward, to where the briefcases would hang come show time. "No matter if you're going to win or lose, come out here and put your soul into every move you make."

"Not my heart?"

"No, because that's what's gonna be hangin' up there just out of reach."

She smiled, her nerves soothed. "Thanks."

"Don't stress, sweetie. If Hunter and Vince and everyone else didn't think the six of you could do it, they wouldn't have set it up."

"I know," she promised with a nod. "Papa H especially."

"Papa H," AJ chuckled. "Y'all really call him that?"

"Us NXT alumni do. He's our best supporter." Amazed at how much better she felt about the upcoming match, she hopped off the rope, then stepped out onto the apron. "Thanks again, AJ."

"Anytime." He caught her hand, stepping off the apron and helping her down in one fluid motion.

"I have several questions," Charlotte declared once they were safely up the ramp.

"Here we go," Kim groaned.

"Am I mistaken, or were you just flirting with AJ?"

"That wasn't flirting, that was…" Kim gestured aimlessly as they ducked through the curtain. "That was just talking. With style."

Charlotte gave an unattractive snort. "I'm serious, Kim. Is something going on there?"

"The only thing going on is that he's a nice guy that takes time out of his ridiculously busy schedule to give a rookie a little advice. The end."

"But you play video games with him—"

"Once. And, okay, we're having a rematch next week. We were going to do it today but it's just too hectic." Anxious to get away from the third degree, Kim picked up speed once they were in the main corridor.

Of course, Charlotte had no trouble keeping up. "Just a few more questions."

Groaning, she slowed. "Ugh, fine."

"Are you and…" Charlotte glanced around. Then, seeing that no one was paying attention to them, she went on, "Are you and Baron a thing now?"

"Um. Not exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

This time it was Kim that glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. Even so, she kept her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just sex."

"Sex?" Charlotte repeated in a soft voice.

"Just sex. We shared a car over the weekend, but… I'm trying to keep it to just sex." Drawing in a deep breath, she nearly choked when she saw Baron exit a room down the hall. "Did you have more questions?"

"Well, actually—"

"Later," Kim requested. Baron smiled when he saw her and began heading in her direction. She looked to Charlotte. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"Yes," her friend agreed, voice following Kim down the hall. "We definitely will…"

"You busy?" Baron asked when they met halfway.

Shaking her head, Kim bit the inside of her lip. She knew it was wrong, knew she would probably be condemned to every version of hell, but she couldn't help herself. "Can you slip away for a little bit?"

His lips quirked in a knowing smile. "Yeah. Why?"

She almost rolled her eyes. "As if you didn't know."

"I know why." He nodded towards a door at the end of the hall. Once they were walking in that direction, he draped his arm over her shoulders. "But I'd like to know why right now."

"Because—"

She was saved from answering by the sound of Nattie's voice calling her name. Although she was certain she could have mumbled a convincing lie, she was almost grateful for the interruption and half-turned to look at the woman heading her way.

"I just talked to Hunter. He wanted me to let everyone know he's got Shawn, AJ, and Dolph coming to the PC Friday."

"Really?" Interlude with Baron forgotten, Kim marveled over the fact that a legend and two of the men in the main event Sunday night were taking their time to help her and the other ladies. "That's amazing!"

"I know!" Nattie gushed. "I'm really looking forward to it. And afterwards everyone's invited to my place for dinner, okay? I won't take no for an answer—" She glanced down at her phone. "That's TJ, I need to talk to him about Friday."

Kim watched her hurry off, a small smile playing at her lips. Had AJ known when they were chatting earlier that he was going to help out on Friday? Turning to enthuse with Baron over the star power that would be at the Performance Center, she instead furrowed her brow when she saw his lack of enthusiasm. "What's wrong?"

"We had plans for Friday."

"I know, but – I mean, Baron, come on, Shawn Michaels is gonna help me and the girls with ladders. And—"

"And Styles and Dolph," he finished, making a face. "Shouldn't they be more concerned with their own ladder match?"

"Why don't you like him?" she asked, the furrow in her brow deepening when he guided her down the hall and through the door he'd indicated earlier.

"Michaels? I like him."

The room was small, barely larger than a closet, and empty except for a stack of folding chairs in the far corner. "Not him. AJ."

"It's not that I don't like him…" Baron reached to close the door, then backed her against it. "I just don't like the way he looks at you."

Kim snorted, bracing her hands on his chest to keep him from leaning in. "He doesn't look at me in any certain way."

"Trust me, he does." Hands propped on the door, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. "And I hate it."

"How does he look at me?" she asked, tilting her head back. "And why does it matter, anyway? Other guys look at me, too."

"Can we not talk about fuckin' Styles when we're about to have sex?" he sighed.

"You brought him up," she couldn't help but mutter.

"Kimmy—"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." Tugging on his shirt, she met his lips in a sultry kiss. To her relief, within seconds everything but the two of them disappeared.

#aj styles #aj styles imagine #baron corbin #baron corbin imagine #wwe #wwe imagine #aj styles fanfiction #baron corbin fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #multipart:reckless

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mbtizone · 7 years

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Michael Kelso (That '70s Show): ESFP

Dominant Extroverted Sensing [Se]: The present is Kelso’s main focus. He doesn’t concern himself with planning for the future or contemplating the past. He doesn’t really care to look beyond what’s happening right now. He just does things and doesn’t allow the possible consequences of his actions to stop him. Because of this, he often makes impulsive decisions in the moment that tend to get him (and his friends) into trouble down the road. Kelso appreciates physical beauty (especially his own) and plans to coast through life on his good looks. Kelso is always down for anything and loves to engage with his environment. He’s a hedonist and enjoys taking advantage of all of the sensory pleasures that life has to offer.

Auxiliary Introverted Feeling [Fi]: Kelso doesn’t really deal with his emotions. He tends to avoid his problems by running away from them. When Jackie wants to get married, he bails on her without a word and drives to California with Donna. When he first finds out that Brooke is pregnant with his baby, he is initially relieved when she lets him off the hook. However, after taking some time to ponder his feelings on the situation (and hearing a lecture from his friends), he decides that he does want to be a part of his child’s life. When something happens in Kelso’s life, he often needs time to think on his own to figure out how he feels about it. Though he does listen to his friend’s opinions, what matters most are his own feelings about a situation. At the end of the day, Kelso does what he feels is right for him, without giving much consideration to how his actions will impact the people around him. Sometimes, Kelso can be completely unaware of the emotions of the people around him and not understand why someone is upset with him.

Tertiary Extroverted Thinking [Te]: When Kelso has to explain himself, he usually does so in a direct manner. He doesn’t get caught up analyzing things or speculating. Kelso tends to say things in a straightforward, blunt way that can hurt people’s feelings or get him into trouble. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything and typically just blurts out whatever comes to mind. His process is external and he has a habit of thinking aloud. He can often be insensitive to the feelings of the people around him. Sometimes, Kelso can loop. He sees an opportunity in his environment (Se) and pursues it (Te) without bothering to think about how he really feels about it. When Kelso is having performance issues wit Pam Macy, he stubbornly keeps trying to have sex with her. Kelso loves hooking up with girls, so what’s wrong with him? He doesn’t even stop to consider that maybe subconsciously he just doesn’t really want to sleep with her. Though he jokes around and pulls pranks on his friends a lot, he can become very defensive and lash out at people who are rude to them, such as when Nina’s parents disapproved of Fez because he was foreign.

Inferior Introverted Intuition [Ni]: Although he doesn’t worry much about the future, Kelso seems to believe that things will just work themselves out in his favor (without him actually having to do anything). It’s hard for Kelso to establish goals and make decisions in his life. When he’s younger, he knows that he wants to be a model, but eventually, is forced to consider what will happen once he’s old and loses his looks, which leads him down the path of law enforcement, which he chooses for another vain reason (after he meets a female cop who is attractive in uniform, but very plain when off-duty). When he loses his job as a police officer, he reflects on what else he has going for him in his life, and decides to propose to Jackie, but has second thoughts after receiving a job offer in Chicago, which he accepts, and moves away to be near his daughter.

Note: The obvious choice for Kelso is ExFP. I don’t recall ever seeing him typed as anything else. I totally understand the Ne-dom argument, but I don’t see a case for inferior Si. He doesn’t learn from his mistakes and he doesn’t get hung up on the past, Kelso is clumsy and is sometimes shown to be unaware of his physical environment, which can prevent people from typing him as a Se-dom, but I think he’s too focused on momentary pleasures and doing things to be anything else. He’s always in the moment and doesn’t think typically think about the consequences of his actions until it’s already too late. A lot of Kelso’s obliviousness and scattered thinking is probably a direct result of him being a burnout (we saw that he was much more intellectual as a child and he tests well), which can make him appear Ne when he isn’t.

Enneagram: Type 7

Quotes:

[Jackie, Donna and Hyde chide Kelso for not taking responsibility on Brooke’s baby] Hyde: Kelso, you know what you should do, but your not gonna do it because you’re too much of a tool. Kelso: You know what? It’s real easy to talk about the right thing to do when it’s not your life.

Kelso: Alright. At first, when you told me that I was off the hook, I was, like, totally psyched, right? But then I started to think about it, and… I don’t want to be off the hook. I wanna be a part of this kid’s life. Brooke: Michael, I didn’t let you off the hook to be nice. I just don’t think you understand what it means to have a baby. [Brooke stands, collects the leftovers of her meal and walks away. Kelso follows her] Kelso: No, but I do. It… it means taking him to teeball games, and… and teaching him how to ride a bike, and… taking him to the doctor when he’s sick. Brooke: And what if it’s a girl? Kelso: Oh, it’s not gonna be a girl. We did it standing up. [Donna facepalms] Brooke: [nods] Uh-huh.

Kelso: [Kelso begins to regret cheating on Jackie] Y’know, I guess it was wrong, what I did with Laurie. But I was just amusing myself, y’know. And that’s the key to life, right? Never stop amusing yourself.

Hyde: Okay. All right. Do you remember that time when I was climbing your fence, and I hit my forehead on that tree branch, and I fell into your yard, and your dog Yogi came out of the house and bit me twice on the ass? Kelso: [laughing] Yeah, you bled and you cried. Hyde: I bled. I didn’t cry. Kelso: Yeah, you did. You bled and you cried. Hyde: And you laughed, man. A lot. While I was bleeding… You see my point? Kelso: Yeah. It’s funny when friends get hurt. Hyde: Close enough.

Kelso: If this is about maturity, then I want nothing to do with it.

Red: I swear to God Kelso, you make Eric look like Einstein Eric: Thank you Daddy Kelso: [to Eric] Thank you? Einstein was ugly.

Annette: So, all you care about is sex. I thought that there was more to you than that. Kelso: But there isn’t.

Kelso: Look, this girl is beautiful, and she believes in me. And if I can get her to put out, she will be 3 out of 3. But right now she’s only 2 out of 3, and I’m sorry but 50% just ain’t gonna cut it!

[about Annette] Kelso: I love her. Eric: No you don’t. Kelso: Well I love parts of her.

Kelso: You know Fez, unfortunately there are some people in this world that are gonna judge you on the color of your skin or your funny accent or that girly little way you run. But you know what? You’re not alone. Why do you think the Martians won’t land here? ‘Cause they’re green and they know people are gonna make fun of ’em.

Kelso: Hey! He might not be from this country, but he’s beautiful, damn it!

Ricky: Where do you see yourself in five years? Kelso: Rock star. No, movie star. No, yeah rock star.

Kelso: [getting up] Who chooses a chick over a friend? Eric: What, come on, Kelso remember when you made me walk home in a blizzard because you wanted 10 extra minutes with Pam Macy? Kelso: I didn’t steal Pam Macy from you and you could’ve played in the snow until we were done Donna: Jackie wanted to get married and you bailed; now she doesn’t want to marry you, that solves your problem albeit with a disturbing twist ending.

Hyde: We need to settle this. Kelso: I don’t want to settle this, I don’t want to talk about it, all I want to do is pound you until you feel as bad as I do!

Kelso: I’m just saying… how can I tell you this without hurting your feelings?… Oh, I know! Jackie, I don’t want your stupid things in my cool van. [Jackie gasps and storms out] Wait! I didn’t say you were stupid, just everything you like!

Fez: I like Midge. Hyde: Yeah, we all like Midge. Kelso: Yeah, Midge has nice jugs. Bob: What? Kelso: What? Bob: No, you said something. Kelso: No, I didn’t. So what’s up with your hair?

Kelso: It turns out the key to winning Jackie back was in the last place I thought to look: My own brain.

Donna: It’s kinda cold. Eric: Here! Take my jacket. Donna: I love you. Eric: God, we are such the… perfect couple. Jackie: [looking at Kelso] I’m cold, too. Kelso: Well, damn, Jackie, I can’t control the weather!

Fez: Yeah, Kelso and I have to find an apartment tonight, or Red is going to kill me in my sleep. Kelso: Yeah, and I can’t let Fez go alone. Jackie: Why not? Kelso: ‘Cause then I’ll have to go to your party, which I don’t want to do.

Kelso: Alright, look. Jackie, here’s the deal, you cheated on me. Jackie: You used to cheat on me all the time. Kelso: Yeah? Well, yeah. But you cheated out of hate, and I cheated out of joy.

Kelso: Man, I wish Jackie would loosen up. She’s throwing a great party down here and she’s missing it. Fez: Kelso, you don’t get it, huh? This party meant the world to Jackie, and you crapped on it. Hyde: Alright, ease up on Kelso, huh? Kelso: Thanks, Hyde. Hyde: Yeah, so you did something horrible, but it’s Jackie, so who cares? Kelso: No wait, what are you saying? Fez: I’m saying you burned her man, royally. Nice job. Kelso: But no, man, I didn’t want to burn her. I invited all these people to her party so it would be fun, to make it good. Fez: She didn’t want a good party, she wanted her party. Kelso: You know what? You’re right Fez. Alright, this party’s over. Everybody out! Eric: No, Kelso, what are you saying man? Think! Kelso: You know what guys? For the first time in my life, I think I am thinking.

Kelso: College is for ugly girls who can’t get modeling contracts. Donna: No, college is for women who don’t want to marry the first idiot they meet and squeeze out his bastard moron children.

Jackie: I can’t believe you, Michael. Kelso: What? Jackie: You can’t just maul me in front of my father! Kelso: I bet he didn’t even notice. Jackie: He yelled at you to stop it. Kelso: I thought he was yelling at you.

Kelso: [Runs up to the guys] All right! Canada! Whoo-hoo! Beer! [blows his horn] Eric: Kelso, you’re not going. Kelso: What? Why not? Hyde: Because this is a risky mission and you tend to screw these things up. Kelso: That is a damnable lie! Eric: Okay. Kelso, remember that time we were gonna put a flaming bag of dog poop in front of Principal Pridwell’s door, and you lit it in the car on the way over? Kelso: Yeah, I wanted to see it all flamey. Eric: And then you panicked and stepped on it. Kelso: Eric, it was on fire!

[Jackie is at the dance with Hyde] Kelso: How can she be with him when she’s so clearly not over me? Annette: I think the question is, how can you be with me when you’re so clearly not over her? Kelso: Wait, is this a riddle? Start over.

Michael Kelso (That ’70s Show): ESFP was originally published on MBTI Zone

#Michael Kelso #That '70s Show #ESFP #Type 7 #enneagram 7 #mbti #mbti types #mbti personality types #fictionmbti #fictionalcharactermbti #tv mbti

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