#everything about the current world and the future looks bleak to me

[milkbreadtoast]

ai is just so fucking bleak man it makes me want to end it all...

taking everything joyful about life... everything i ever wanted or loved or hoped for... and not just that, everything else too... no job is safe... the only way i can go on is to pretend it doesnt exist and just keep creating and trying as we always have done it haha but meanwhile it just keeps getting worse and im filled with sickening dread... the only hope I have is that people will continue to stick together and protect each other even as ai tries to destroy and take everything from us and our identity and our joy sorry to sound poetic and pretentious but i just need to get the vent out. its bleak man.

#im being vague bc im embarrassed to specify more but it just... the future seems so bleak bc of ai #and... this is just one small thing #everything about the current world and the future looks bleak to me #the only way i can keep going on is if i pretend everything is fine and the same as how it was #but the fact that i can even manage to do that shows my immense privilege #vent #delete later #sidenote i havent been glazing or art shielding my art (i never tried glaze) #because i just... i give up man. like im in denial. i want to just pretend like i can post it like normal and itll be ok #i want to blindly trust #its the same w me posting my art and blindly trusting that ppl wont repost #except ai is much worse than reposting.... #ha... the only meager protection ive been doing #is watermarking but not even obtrusively #and posting at a lower res (but ive been posting higher res on here...) #hhaaa... i want ppl to be able to see my hard work and tbe colors #and artshield makes tbe colors ugly #cries #unrelated but i feel like ive been estranged from my friends lately too #so thats prob also contributing to why i feel so sad #im too old to be having a tantrum like this but isnt this what blogs like tumblr r for? so i can vent here instead of irl... ha ha

[hiramaris]

Kiss It Off Me

CHAPTER 1

Summary:

A story revolving around the newly arrived resident farmer in the eyes of the personified perfection, the sunflower of Pelican Town herself, Haley. Or. When Haley finally met the person that caused ripples in what was once a stagnant town, and she didn’t know how to handle such massive change.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Notes:

Haley's heart events are just soooo wifey, especially after marriage. Her character development is well written off but I just can't help but notice that something is missing, like the heart events are just not that connected in some way. Stardew is an absolute gem don't get me wrong. I'd like to try and connect what I think is missing which is the reason this fic is created. P.S. Second try in making fanfiction. I apologize for any future grammatical errors or whatever. English is not my primary language.

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None so far? Just Haley being her usual self

Gif from reddit.com

Winter 25

Immobile.

Stagnant.

Bland.

What words could possibly do justice to describe this sleepy town? Pelican Town had its charms sure. It’s peaceful, the air is fresh, and would never choke you on your sleep plus it gives a really nice tan so Haley wouldn’t really complain. 

But it was just so... boring. Was that the right term?

The people are meh, nosy, and just as bland but they are good neighbors though don't get her wrong. They look after them— her and Emily when their parents can’t. 

Ugh.

Them again. Thinking about them just makes her angry— blood boiling and all that, and well… sad which is infuriating.

How can you just leave your kids just to go follow your own dreams and travel? And then act like you care just by sending some half-hearted letter? Sending a letter now and then was hardly enough to make up for their absence. How low could that be?

Emily doesn’t think so. But what does she know? Her cooking was as bland as the town, and her obsession with crystals and hippie clothes was just plain ridiculous. She knows nothing. 

Her sister is anything but pessimistic. She saw the light in everything whereas Haley ever saw them through the lens of her camera.

Capturing a single moment in a photograph was a thousand times more vivid and alive than the bleak and colorless reality she was currently living in.

She should be in college right now, pursuing her dreams, being the center of attention, and having boys falling over themselves to impress her. Or she would have been running her own photography studio by now in a city that never sleeps, schmoozing with some famous photographers and carving a niche for herself in the cut-throat world of photography.

But no, because here she was, stuck in a six-mile drive from the nearest city, life as directionless as the people in here.

Why am I even staying here? She wonders.

Oh, yeah— grandma.

This house is hers. Her house is the only thing that made her feel that Grandma is still here, with them. Even though Haley is talking big about leaving this town, she knew to herself that she doesn’t have the strength to just leave it just like that. Which is why they both tried to keep it tidy and well... avoiding it from falling apart.

Aside from that, there was nothing to do here. The only things keeping her sane were her camera, her phone, and the clothes she ordered online.

Oh, and of course, her best friend, Alex.

He's the only one— aside from Emily and of course, the Mullner residence, Granny and George are good people even though George is grumpy all the time,  that she's able to have a decent conversation. She and Alex are, after all, not the sharpest tool in the shed, and shares almost the same brain cell.

He’s that typical jock boy, ripped as hell but in terms of brain, well… meh. Not like Haley's any better so who is she to judge?

They went to the same school, belonged to the same clique, and were both popular, of course. He’s here to practice his grid ball or whatever but Haley knew better.

Alex, despite being the dungus that he is, has a lot on his plate already. He needs the peace this town could offer.

And maybe, maybe I need it, too.

Maybe being away from the city has a good cause, despite her constant complaints, this town has been her home for the past six years after all.

But she just really couldn’t help but dwell on this stupid thought of hers of being stagnant and directionless at this time of the year.

Winter.

Ugh. It’s stupidly cold outside and there’s no way she’s walking in six-inch snow just to get a quality photo, which isn’t much considering the lighting outside does not satisfy her at all. The only, and probably one good thing about winter is peppermint coffee. It's hot, minty, and makes her feel warm while making her mouth worthy of being sucked on— err... that's a want that cannot be sated as of the moment.

The bachelors in this town suck for real. They are not even worthy of a single glance. Apart from Alex, of course, but he's a friend so... no.

And what's made it double suck is that she ran out of peppermint coffee. Pierre is out of stock and there's no way she'll let herself be caught alive inside that creep manager's store that runs Joja or whatever. 

Now she's stuck sitting at the table, devouring a massive pink cake that could feed an entire family, enduring a coffee so bland it makes her want to try and drink tea.

She hates tea.

Oh yeah, she's also holding a note and a sunflower in her other hand. 

She doesn't want to read the letter but considering the gifts she just received, it’s probably just the same lame-ass apology about being unable to be here on her birthday this coming Spring 14th. Not that it mattered anymore; it had been two years of absence, and she had grown used to it by now.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the note onto the table, debating whether to toss it into the fireplace or tear it to shreds or whatever.

If it's just another excuse, she doesn’t want to hear it.

"Haaaay!" And there's a familiar voice. 

"If you don't have peppermint coffee with you I swear to Yoba—"

"What's the case, long face?" He quipped. "And no, I don't have anything with me."

She looked up from her cake, finding Alex strolling in their kitchen with one of his shit-eating grins, hair covered with a concerning amount of snow. She grimaced, "sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you."

He feigned a hurt expression, "I thought you love me though."

"According to gossip, maybe but really, I don't." She deadpanned. 

He cackled at the mention of that. At the center of the gossip mill passing down from Marnie, Jodi, and Caroline, maybe Robin, too, and probably all the yoga club, is he and Haley dating. Which was absurd, to be honest.

"No, really, Hay." He finally turns serious. "What's up? What's got your face looking like that?" 

"It's just the stupid climate." Haley tried to lie. She didn't want to stir up drama at the moment. Alex frowned, catching up with her lie almost immediately. He caught sight of the letter Haley threw earlier. "Alex don't—"

Too late. He already got it. He sat down next to her as he read the contents of the note, his brows furrowing in what she assumes is annoyance. "Parents, huh? Same old, same old?" He raised an eyebrow.

Haley huffed and snatched the letter away. "Yes, the usual."

"Well," Alex propped his elbow on the backrest, a sly grin returning to his face. "I just got the perfect news that might take your mind off things."

Haley arched a perfect eyebrow, curious. Gossip wasn't his usual forte.

"Spill." 

"A new farmer is coming to town."

Haley's fork paused in mid-air. "Uh... I'm not sure how to react to that, and what's so great about it?"

His smile widened. "I heard she's from Zuzu City."

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"Why? Surprised another Zuzu native is coming here?"

"No, you dungus." She slapped his hand attempting to take a slice of her cake. "I heard you correctly, right? You said the farmer's a she? A girl is taking over that farm?"

"Yes," Alex confirmed, finally snagging a bite of cake. Haley makes a scrunched face in mock disgust. "The farmer's a she. What's the problem though?" He asked in mouthfuls.

Haley stood up to grab another spoon. No way she's getting his imaginary cooties. Alex doesn't seem to mind; it only further encourages him to eat some more. "Because it’s weird." She said as she sat down. "Farming isn't exactly a girl's job, especially for a city girl like her. I bet you she wouldn't last a month."

"Not all girls are like you, Hay— ow! What's that for?!" He rubbed his ribs where Haley just nudged with her boniest elbow of all time.

"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted," she rolled her eyes, "farming is all dirt and nasty, smelly clothes. That farm was barely run by old man Raileigh before he died. What could possibly a city girl like his granddaughter could do with that rundown farm? I bet you it’s already smoldering by now."

"Good point," Alex said as he continued eating. Haley swear to Yoba all this idiot does is eat and relax in here.

He has a diet, right? So does she, and they're like eating a fat block of sugar right now.

Whatever. Pink cake has always been an exemption from all her seasonal dietary plans.

"But I guess we'll have to wait and see; don't you think so?" Alex turns to her after a few moments of silence. "I heard she's around our age. If it's true that farming is as difficult as they say, the least we can do is make her feel welcomed."

Haley barely nods in acknowledgment. 

This town is like a pond, where everything that enters stays and everyone already there remains. The city is a raging storm with ocean waves ready to swallow you if you go against the flow. A lot of people there has a sense of direction, one Haley aspires to have, and what Pelican lacks. You can't, at all costs, be still and unmoved and some people just couldn't do that.

And those people who couldn't stand the pressure, come here, like a moth drawn to a flame, seeking the mundanity Pelican Town could offer them. Perhaps they have grown weary of the constant hustle and bustle. Maybe city life has been too much. Maybe modern life has been too much for this farmer.

Who knows?

But one thing Haley doesn't like, and what keeps her unmoved and still, is change. Adapting, and adjusting isn't meant for her. It took years before she could finally settle a lifestyle in this town, and another two years of adjustment when her parents decided it would be a good idea to abandon them and go travel. She knew where to go, where townspeople go just so she could avoid interacting with them, she accustomed herself to their culture, and the perfect spots for taking pictures. She has it all memorized and planned out perfectly.

And this farmer will be an anomaly to her perfectly (not as perfect as she thought) crafted routine. New face, a new attitude, and just an overall new person she might be obligated to talk to for the sake of introduction.

Pelican is a stagnant pond, yet this farmer, this alien to her world, she's not yet even here but she is already starting to cause ripples.

And Haley doesn't know what to think of it.

~~~~~

Next

Notes:

The title was inspired by Cigarettes After Sex' Kiss it off me. Their songs are such *chef's kiss* and whilst I was listening to this song, it kind of, sorta, reminded me of how my farmer sees her wife. Thus kabooOm this fic is born

Edit: Because I'm procrastinating and I made sure to finish off my other story first, I decided now to transfer this story from Ao3 to Tumblr

#stardew valley #stardew farmer #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #stardew haley #sdv

[kkbardd]

hello! i haven’t sent an ask in a while because schoolwork has been piling up infinitely :[ , but your recent posts have been really interesting to me! i really liked the room sketch one, I can’t exactly explain why but there’s something so indescribably human about it. i love spaces that looked lived in, that have personality, and I think that your room (current one? made up? old one?) has done a great job of showing that. and I’m not very good at giving advice— I can hardly follow it myself, but if you don’t know something, don’t know what you want to do, try things. it’s okay if you don’t like them. i recently found out I’m more competent in languages than I thought! i can already read and understand simple sentences in german.

there’s always more to yourself than you’ll know, I think, but the world is kinder than people think. If anything, everyone is still very new at this. we’ve never lived before. do the things you like, branch out, don’t become less of yourself for other people. everything has a place, and my best advice is to treat life as you would a vacation. do all the things you can while you’re here. build a life that makes it worth it. (sorry for the long ask and my rambling, or if this is overstepping in any way. i just read what you wrote and kind of related to it in a way. thank you for continuing to create art, it brings me a lot of joy! :] )

hey isopod!!! thanks for the ask & I wish u good luck with ur school work!

Thank u so much for the compliments, im really glad the vibe of my room was conveyed in those doodles. i absolutely looove drawing my room! It’s extremely small (a renovated utility closet) and just barely fits a bed + my desk but its packed full of the things i love. It’s very lived in and I feel like it reflects my character well.

when i drew that page I was in my senior year of high school and pressures to decide my future were overwhelming. I never thought much about it until then and I didn’t have any idea of what I was going to do. The only thing I felt I had going for me was art but I didn’t want to turn my only hobby into a job I hated. I remember going through a master list of majors on random college websites and one-by-one asking myself if I’d be okay doing it. In the end I had nothing. I was really crushed about it and felt stuck. This was right after the covid quarantine too so focusing in school was difficult & I couldn’t bring myself to apply for scholarships. I started skipping classes, smoking weed, and pushing off my assignments. All of this only made me feel more miserable, of course, so everything seemed pretty bleak at the time.

But luckily I had the support of my family and especially my mother. She would always remind me that “we have option”, “we always have options”. Because I did! This was a fresh start to try my hand at a totally different experience than what I’ve done so far. I ended up choosing my major on a complete whim after hearing my aunt had a job in an adjacent field. I was pretty sure I’d drop out after a semester, yet here I am about to graduate soon & I’m having a ton of fun!! (Hell, I’m 10 hours out in the middle of nowhere right now for my Field Methods class!) It’s not that I had a knack for Geology that I just never tapped into, or that i secretly had a passion for rocks this entire time; I just found something that seemed like an okay fit and grew interest from there. I think that a small level of commitment like that is more than enough to get you going. I had a ton of ideas in my head about how I needed to have a perfect fit major that would connect every dot I’ve laid out in my life thus far, but that’s not true at all. Life is much more messy and unpredictable than that.

But enough of my rambling!! That time of my life may have been stressful but I’m very grateful that I went through it! It changed how I viewed problems and it taught me to always look for other options when everything seems helpless.

Thank u so much for ur encouragement, I really appreciate it <33 I completely agree with everything u said!! Life is an ever changing experience & often leads u in unpredictable directions!

#ask #ilu isopod #I often look back on those sketches (and more that I just haven’t posted) #I find a kind of beauty in it idk how to explain it #teenage angst is just something we all gotta go thru #ranting #we have options

[transfloridaresources]

Hey, I just wanted to tell you thank you so much for making this blog. It means more than I could possibly tell you to see support that isn't just "move out", because so many of us just simply can't, or even if we can we don't want to. I shouldn't be expected to uproot my entire life because of other people's bigotry.

Things are getting worse here, and I'm scared. My mom told the doctor that my period was normal last time we went to the doctor, and refused to elaborate. She said that she didn't want specific information about my cycle on file, in case I went on puberty blockers for any reason. My school canceled the Scholastic book fair, because it's a charter school and they were scared of getting on DeSantis' radar. There's uncertainty over if we'll have a psychology course back by the time I reach the age to take it.

Even on a less political front, gay and trans are making a massive resurgence in terms used for bullying. I'm clinging on to my silly little microlabels like a lifeline, because even though it hurts to know that nobody outside of our community is going to know about them, at least that means they aren't going to be slung back in my face like a bullet.

It's really scary, and seeing how people are actually making efforts to combat this means more than you could ever know. It gives me hope that I can stick it out, and make my state a place where the kids younger than me can grow up safely and happily. Seeing adults openly wearing pride pins even in the midst of everything makes me feel safer with them than can be put into words. I hope that by the time I'm an adult and have control over my own life I can be that person for someone, but I also really hope I can help make it a world where that's not needed. And seeing that there's people here that care about us gives me hope that we can accomplish that.

Much love, a queer kid living in central Florida <3

Hello there, wonderful anon & thank you so much for reaching out 🫂💖 It is so meaningful to hear things like this and I'm so grateful that you took the time to write this message. I know so much seems bleak rn, but your message made me think about the world I grew up in when I was a kid / teen. I didn't even really know trans people existed. Queer people barely existed, either. There was no mainstream celebrity for any of those identities and social media didn't exist. I know it feels absolutely terrifying to see this happening now and wondering where you'll go and what life you'll have, but trust me - we'll always be here. We're targeted so much now because people are afraid of change and because these systems of oppression need a constant mark to aim hatred at in order to function. But we're louder than ever now and there's people like you who exist now who are aware of our existences and aware of themselves more than we ever used to have. That's powerful. That gives me hope for the future. YOU give me hope for the future. I look at you the same as you look at us who are older and you inspire me as well. I know this is painful and I know you're scared but know that you're not alone and you never will be. Remember that even if certain laws are passed and attempts to silence information and truth occur - there are still always ways to access that information and keep it alive. These TFR accounts look to BIPOC lives because those are the groups already living under so much oppression who can teach the most about persistence and resilience. Read about other social movements, look to past leaders, look to current events like the people in Gaza right now. Even through tragedy, the spirit of resilience remains. It's still possible to find happiness and fulfillment and build a life somehow. We are not at the mercy of any of this, we just need to learn how to best adapt & keep moving. It's not easy and it's not fair but it is doable. You will have a beautiful life and trans people will always exist. We are still thriving here. Florida (& the south in general) will always have a strong LGBT community no matter what. Let me drop a few links for you or anyone who might need them. CampOUT Florida is a week long summer camp in July for LGBT youth, located around Ocala. Queer Expression St. Pete finally got a permanent home & routinely offers a safe space for LGBT families & youth, especially. If you are struggling and need someone to talk to, Trans Lifeline and Thrive Lifeline both offer peer to peer support (meaning anyone on the other side is also LGBT and/or other identities as well) & also will not involve police / involuntary psych holds. They have a variety of options to communicate with them for support & Thrive even has a trans discord server for anyone 16+! We are also working on a discord server for trans Floridians, which should be available soon, and will have a dedicated channel for teens only (with support as needed from queer & trans adult moderators from a variety of racial backgrounds & who have professional experience working with children / youth). These are just a few things that exist as well. More and more are out there and will also soon be created in the face of increasing pressure on our community. We keep us safe 💖 You are loved, you have value, you have community, you have family, you have a future!

#asks #anon #florida #trans #transgender #lgbt #trans positivity #trans joy #trans youth #trans kids #trans resources #campOUT florida #thrive lifeline #trans lifeline #queer expression st pete #queerexpressionstpete

[aroarolibrary]

Hi do you know any books (preferably non-fiction but idk) about the like bad sides of being ace and/or aro? Like how it can fucking suck and it's okay to feel sad and think that we deserve better? That we should be trying to make the world better for aspecs? Because I just. feel like I'm screaming sometimes about how bleak the future is for me but even other aspecs don't seem to understand. all I ever see on reddit is 'some people don't understand that we're fulfilled as we are :)' and good for those people but. I'm so so so so scared that I don't even deserve help because I'm just delusional and selfish and imagining all the sad things I'm going through. and i just want to see if there's like. literally anybody out there who sees things like I do or if I'm just completely alone in this as well lol.

I feel like this ask deserves more of an answer then I currently have time to give it but I hear you. As someone who finds catharsis in non-happy stories or bitter stories that don’t have that ‘but everything is always fine in the end yay!!’ Plot point I hear you.

Sadly though I don’t know any books like what you are asking for. Especially when it comes to non-fiction a lot of writing tends to be purposely uplifting and hopefully and doesn’t always address the less-then-happy side of things and aro/ace literature is already so rare that essentially all you can get are stories that are meant to be a guide to being aro/ace.

A book on my to-read list is “Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture” but I haven’t read it and so I don’t know what it will address what you are looking for. It’s the closest I can think of though for you to look into.

Sorry I can’t be more help here, maybe some of my followers have some other recommendations! But I would also maybe think about expand outside of just aro/ace literature and also taking a look at any book that talks about compulsory sexuality/monogamy/marriage etc.

[dangermousie]

 Bilal is so desperate to have Ecevit cave, he makes him watch the abuse tapes, ostensibly to verify the tapes are not blank, but in reality to break him down so he’d agree to murder. (But if he did, that is such a fundamental loss of self, I am not sure Ecevit could recover. He’s based so much of himself on following the law.)

And the way it breaks Ecevit but Bilal is relentless, seeking outlet for all his pain, desperate for what he sees as justice even if it’s not what Ecevit sees as justice. This show is nonstop trauma to a degree I have never seen in a Turkish show and very little elsewhere (perhaps Royal Nirvana or A Dirty Carnival are in the same range.)

And then the way they see Zeki and the horrors he’s recounting...omg.

This is complete breakdown territory and we are only in ep 4. @academyofbrokenhearts​  told me that the main writer of the show was Pinar Bulut; I looked up what other shows she’d written and everything slotted into place - she did Ezel which was VERY dark and also about innocents yearning for vengeance (a modern reimagining of Monte Cristo, in fact) with a notoriously fucked up ending and is currently writing Taçsız Prenses which I checked out and liked but I had to bail on because it was so unremittingly dark I had to have some knowledge of the ending/arc before I could keep up (and had a mistreated child and a man who clawed his way out of past trauma but has serious issues about it.) 

And I get both Bilal and Ecevit but honestly, I am weak and I just want the misery to end.

But the thing is, even with all of this, he still does. He sends the tapes in, he leaves Sait alive, even if it’s for an insane plan of pretending to be his attorney to railroad him during litigation. And it’s really because for him his justice is relying on the legal system he built his identity around. I mean, he was even fine with the fact that he was raped to be out in public and known to everyone in his life and total strangers if that meant the guys would be put away - his initial plan was to get Huseyn to confess on tape about him and the rest being raped and submit THAT as evidence. He only backed off when Bilal made it clear he’d kill himself if that happened. And that’s a man who is so traumatized and ashamed by this, he’s not told anyone for decades and still has serious, full blown PTSD about it. Because that’s how much it would be justice and vindication for him - future harm stopped and past harm avenged by the system working as it should, as it never did for him and his friends (and the fact that he dedicated his life to justice after he was given none is pretty mindblowing.) His willingness to have his trauma out there for everyone to gossip about if it means jail for perps shows how much he believes in legal punishment as a proper end for this and how he would find it satisfactory if he was willing to pay THAT price. And the thing is in any just world what he asks for is eminently reasonable and achievable - the thing that he wants judicial punishment not some sort of crazy mass murder revenge. But in the bleak world of this story he can’t even get that, because I am 100% sure Sait will get off. The tragedy of it is he is so sane and so good despite being horrifically traumatized - he’s looked at the world full of horror and pushing him into abyss and said “no, I won’t” and yet it’s still not enough. How is that for bleak?

PS We see his father released from prison and what a contrast - he’s treated as a king and with respect by all the inmates. He clearly had a great time in prison because he’s a violent monster who fits there and not an innocent child. The world of the story rewards the monsters, not the good.

#suskunlar #turkish tv

[k-s-morgan]

What He Grows to Be: Snippet 4

A weekly snippet) Finally some Tom and Harry together. Well, sort of. 

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

“I have some news,” he said. “Alice Whinterly, that girl you took a liking to… I sought her out and offered her a job at the Ministry. She’s underqualified for it, so I told Mulciber to sponsor her training. Would you like that?”

Sometimes he felt like Harry was listening to him. He didn’t move or try to speak, but he radiated a strange sort of awareness that lit a small fire of hope in Tom’s chest. The same sensation slid through him now, and he pressed his lips to Harry’s hand reverently, trying to express everything that he hadn’t already.

“I stopped going to work,” he admitted, not raising his head. Like this, staring at Harry’s hand and basking in the phantom impression of having an audience, it was easy to imagine that everything was well. That he was talking to a person, not a shell. “I have no time for it and I don’t think I’ll be able to pretend I care about whatever it is people need me for. Bringing Alice in was the last thing I visited the Ministry for, and it was a week ago. Today I’ve learned that she’s doing well, so I wanted to tell you this.”

He fell silent, pretending that he was about to get a reply and giving Harry time to speak. To busy himself with something, he kissed every Harry’s finger and rubbed his cheek against his palm.

“It was easier when you were gone,” he whispered. For weeks, he hadn’t dared to speak these words, but now they were out and he couldn’t stop them. The truth was bitter and bewildering: if someone had told him he would say this a year ago, he would have laughed and cursed the idiot.

But this was then. Now was a different time — time Tom would have given anything to escape.

“I had something to strive for,” his voice was dull. “I knew I had to become better for you to return. It was a waiting game and it had rules, and I was constantly trying to follow them. To outdo myself. While I missed you, I knew I had a chance to make things right. Working for my position, expanding my reach and preparing the foundation for our future — this motivated me, kept me going. And without it, I—” His voice wavered suddenly, and Tom fell silent.

It took endless five minutes for his eyes to stop burning and for his tongue to remember how to push the words out.

“I lost interest in everything,” he admitted. The pain threatened to choke him when Harry didn’t react, and he clenched his fingers tighter in his hand, hoping to ground himself. “Everything I thought I enjoyed, everything I planned and was excited about — it’s all gone. Every day is bleak. Everything has turned into nothing.”

Silence. Only silence answered him, yet somehow it was more gratifying than any words spoken by the insects. Tom slipped from his chair and knelt next to Harry, framing his face gently.  

“I will never give up on you,” he promised. The certainty of it burned through him, breathing the remains of life into his lungs. He leaned forwards and brushed his lips against Harry’s. “I will bring you back, and until then, I will keep doing things you would have wanted me to do. I won’t be trying to change the world any longer — we will do it together once you re-join me. We will make decisions together, after discussing them. This is what you would have wanted, isn’t it? I can’t be wrong here. Can I?”

In his current state, Harry wasn’t much help, so all Tom could do was pretend that his silence meant his approval. It was self-delusion, but it felt nice, and he held onto this feeling.

“I’m thinking of going to the Muggle part of the world tomorrow again,” he murmured. Looking at Harry’s vacant face for a long time quickly grew unbearable, so he put his head on his lap and placed Harry’s hand on top, closing his eyes against the pleasant warmth. “Their war might be over, but they are still trying to rebuild everything. I’ll help them as much as I can. It’ll be a waste of time, but I know you liked it when I made myself go. Maybe this will encourage you to fight your way back to me.”

Harry’s fingers twitched in his hair, but by now, this was a familiar illusion. Tom sighed, letting himself dissolve in it.

Just a few moments of peace. It would be enough to help him hold on until tomorrow, when he came here again and his ritual repeated itself. Who cared if his peace was built on pretence? Even pretence was better than reality.

#my fics #tomarry

[iguessitsjustme]

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity! (No pressure ofc!!)

Ooo I need to do this today. Need to remember that there’s good in the world. Also hope you’re having a good day!

Five things that make me happy…hmmm just five? Thinking about it I can list so many things (isn’t that great?):

1. Music - even on my worst days, music is there. Whatever mood I’m in, I can always count on at least one song being able to bring me joy. (I am currently listening to The Story by Conan Gray as I type this - thanks Eighth Sense for my obsession with this song)

2. Walking to the lake and staring at the water. You’ll never guess what I’m currently doing lol. If the weather is nice enough, you can bet I am likely either at the lake or walking to the lake. Or I have already been to the lake that day.

3. My friends. Whether it’s irl friends or online friends, I know I can count on my friends to be there for me. I’ve made some amazing friends and met some amazing people and it’s wonderful that we’re in each other’s lives.

4. My job. I know i often complain about my job here but I truly love my job. I feel like I’m making a difference in people’s lives and I’ve gotten to speak to some of the loveliest people. It just reminds me that there is hope for humanity. The future is actually bright and not everything is bleak.

5. Video games. I don’t really ever post about games here but I love video games (my tendonitis does not love video games but it can kiss my ass). I honestly think gaming is a large part of the reason me and my siblings are so close now. We game together sometimes and we also bonded over games in our childhood. This might surprise some people because I post about him all the time, but my older brother and I used to hate each other and now we are truly best friends and a large part of that is gaming. Super Mario will always have a special place in my heart because of that.

Bonus:

6. Shows! This surprises no one since I’m either posting about shows or random bits of my life and not really anything else.

7. Sailboats. I actually found adult sailing classes for all levels but they are expensive. So I will be saving up for that but definitely sailboats (I am now currently looking at sailboats on the lake and I am full of joy).

#rae irl #thanks for the ask #look at that all things that make me happy #I could honestly go on and on but I thought maybe two extra things were enough

[psalmsofpsychosis]

personal rant under the cut

okay but i'm getting real fucking tired of saying that a piece of media is repetitive and lackluster and "a copy of a copy of a copy" and fucking boring only to get weird looks from people as if i'm the one at fault for asking for creativity and new things, as if it's more than okay that stuff are repetitive and mundane as fuck and it's ME who is the problem for needing novelty and creativity.

like yes, it's actually a terrible shitty thing that creativity and innovation is dead and noone can think of anything new while the whole world is at its peak PrOdUcTiViTy phase. It's a fucked up thing and a problem that people have given up on all forms of true, foundational creativity and are more accustomed to repeating the same fucking dysfunctional propegenda-and-trope-infested stories over and over again because they're terrified of anything that's actually new and boundary-breaking and creative, they just like the thought of it.

I'm so incredibly tired of people hailing the most tired stories as OH SO GROUNDBREAKING AND EXCEPTIONAL just because the trees in this story have blue leaves instead of green leaves. That's not creativity, it's aesthetics and i want trees that grow different roots, and absorb different substances, and are not trees at all.

Like, current culture's concept of creativity is so neutered and deadened and deadening that you're supposed to take superficial aesthetics as the blatant face of innovation like "oh this character is Hispanic, representation!" go fuck yourself with this nonsense, what is their story? what do they do differently in everyday life that speaks to their personality and particular outlook in life? how do they exist within the narrative, what do they want, why are they here? what do they fail in, what are their strengths??

Like, mass media really poisoned people into thinking changing the hue and saturation of characters and changing the location of this "literally the same dystopian 'oh no the future is bleak we're all gonna die :(' story is so creativity much novelty, and it's wearing me out trying to talk with people who are eternally stuck in the fucking trees and missing the forest for it. Superficial mundane media fed to superficial mundane audience that cry about the lack of creativity for 5 mins before they go back into funding and reading and spreading the same superficial and mundane stories, and the cycle goes on and on. I'm tired of being wordlessly asked to justify myself when i say a story is boring and repetitive like "yeah and? give a better reason for why it's bad" like no. I dont have to. Lack of creativity and lack of novelty and experimenting and lack of exploration in the very field that is supposed to be a ripe soil for creativity is enough reason in and of itself. Lack of variety and individual, personal, particular and unconventional stories in a medium that was originally made for exploration and discovery is a stupid and shitty thing and yes i'll recite something being "boring and repetitive" as a very valid expression of why it's inadequate, why it's bad, and why it should be improved. I'll point out "mundane repetition" as a problem to be fixed because it is something to be fucking fixed, because we need creativity and novelty and exploration in order to make discoveries, to make necessary changes, and i will bite the next person who implies that i'm weird for not being satisfied with all the "copy of a copy of a copy" shit we've got right now and want something more. Y'all sit in your "always the same" rooms and go through "always the same" jobs and browse through "literally everything looks the same" media and look at "all these people literally look the same" influencers and celebrities and consume "the same narrative from 50 years ago but now it comes in shiny superhero latex costume" stories and wonder why you feel depressed and dead all the time. And it's because everyone is treating creativity and innovation and experimenting and exploring as a luxury option that you can eliminate unless it's a very very special nonexistent occasion. So yes i'm absolutely going to drop media for the fact that they're "repetitive" and "boring" and "lackluster", and i dont need any more reason for it because to me creativity and reinventing the wheel is an essential part of the human experience, not a whimsical afterthought that can be erased out of the equation.

#personal #boy i'm going through it #''i didlike this story because there's nothing original about it it's the same old shit over and over–'' #''yeah but that's not a good reason it's actually a good story–'' FUCK OFF #START ACCOUNTING FOR CREATIVITY START DEMANDING IT FINDING NEW WAYS OF THINKING #AND DOING THINGS AND REINVENTING THE WHEEL IS HOW WE SURVIVE IT'S HOW WE ADVANCE #i'm fone with popular tropes bullshit the moment i see something rehashing the same old superficial tropes i'm trashing it i dont care #real fucking tired of people treating creativity and fun like a luxury and not a necessity because IT IS A NECESSITY #tell me something new that others have not explored yet or your whole story is null and void to me

[saltocean]

does anyone even go here anymore

hello to anyone who reads this

though i don’t think anyone will because most of who i follow and who follows me has once again abandoned this site sadly...

just ten years ago when i was a spunky 11 year old pretending to be 13 on this site, thinking it was any older and any more wise, trying to make friends and i used to actually put myself out here with a personality on this site??

i’ve been thinking a lot (not typically a good thing) and i have a lot to say that i simply could not write down because i handwrite very slow but that i wanted to put out into the world 

almost like to say (hey! i did say that, look at the date on that post!)

but then on every other platform i have i get too scared because i’m like oh that’s too cringe

but i thought if i go here i can’t really complain because 1. probably no one is 2. i feel like i would be judged a lot less if i post here than anywhere else though ironically i stopped going on this site because i felt like it was too much to manage having an aesthetic up (how the heck did i make my theme like that and have blogrolls and stuff?? sometimes i really despise myself for accidentally deleting it the first time around by accident)

here it goes

the rant of a 21 year old who knew more of what she wanted as a ~tween~ than what she has at reach now

it honestly isn’t that interesting but sometimes it’s just the feeling of reading someone’s diary that could be so full of potential, so this is it:

i hate the way i live right now. it feels so mind-numbingly miserable and i feel like it’s very much not how life is meant to be lived. i only have bursts of moments where i feel excited to live the next day but for now i’m just doing what i’m supposed to because life has just gone this way for me. i’m taking classes i really don’t care about just because it has to be done and over with and because i dedicated the last 4 years of my precious early adulthood to it, though i don’t remember most of the time. 

i hate that i spent being 18-20 thinking i was incredibly old and passionless and done for when i know if i knew what i did now i would’ve started sooner and perhaps felt maybe less like hopeless for my future. i don’t even know if i what i like right now is genuinely what i like because at 17 i thought that s*ciol*gy was the thing for me and i so incredibly regret it now. i see people younger than me accomplishing so much and i feel so behind and regretful of things i never capitalized on that i could’ve. 

i know that social media is an incredibly deceptively harmless poison, but it’s the tool that has ironically kept me optimistic through presentation. i know not everyone who posts their gloriously peaceful lives genuinely are without flaw or stress, but i miss sunlight a lot. it’s so depressing to go to a class i have no interest in while the sky is only ever grey or rainy. i often think about how 17 year old me would wake up at 6:30am to go to school five days a week in my first term of university, and i know that’s because it was so similar to the life i led in high school. but now, i whine and complain about going once a week to a class where the prof is so kind and understanding and does his best to make sure everything is straightforward. my other two classes are creative writing and easily are my favourite any other term of my academic career. but i still feel miserable and i hate complaining because it could be so much worse. it’s genuinely not that bad but it feels like every second that i become aware of what my current routine is, i can’t seem to fathom how bleak things look. 

some people my age have their lives planned and already know what they want to do a year from now. i get it, we’re 21 and we’re supposed to graduate this year. but besides my graduation being a year delayed, i know nothing at all and nothing that i would even want to do. my post-grad options don’t look too good and i can’t imagine giving the rest of my life to any of those lifestyles of research and data entry. 

when i think about summer, i remember how the sun came into my living room wall at golden hour and the way i could leave my balcony door open. kids were still playing outside, and at the time, it was a privilege that me, also a kid, would spend all my time watching TV instead of doing extracurriculars or something similar. i think about how as a teen, it meant super late nights at 1 am with the blinds up and a midnight sky seemingly an endless dark black hole until you open the window and you can hear as much life outside as in. it’s watching white butterflies in my backyard while my mom puts up laundry to dry in the june sun right as i get home from school and realizing i still have time to nap before dinner.

this is the only thing i am holding on to for now because without it i have no motivation to get out of bed. i feel like life is that perfect moment there of me in that summer moment remembering it as just a heated summer and nothing more and how perfect it was to be 15 years old training back at 10 pm after meeting my idol at the time. i wish that my life could be more of that again rather than thinking everyday how unhappy i am and simultaneously being paranoid that it could be worse. but i know life can be so much more even if it’s so much simpler because i had days by the water on the dock, just admiring the sunset change. i know that’s what life is and what it can be instead of this. 

i feel regretful constantly putting myself on autopilot mode to try to drive away the stressors i have and get through the period that i find rough, and i wish that i could wake up everyday more excited for the next because i know it’s exhilarating and new. i hated doing this in year 1 when i was 18 and yet i’ve been 20 and doing it at 21 wasting my life just praying the time away because i’m so stressed. i’m selfishly and stupidly envious and jealous of the 17-20 year olds who recognize that they want to appreciate their age and that i couldn’t do the same and that i’m probably doing the same now. it feels like i’m permanently stuck from who i was in march 2020 and i’m scared i’ll never grow to be better than i was then and become happier to a point where me then would be shocked or jealous of where i am now. 

idk i feel insane omg 

as usual i also had more to say and better things to say to explain what i did write, but i forgot it in the middle of typing ! 

minor things i’ll happily complain about

- they took away 21 by dean on instagram by the time i turned 21 so i couldn’t add it to my ig story on my birthday lol

- two of my bedsheets shrank because i think they were supposed to be air dried but ?  ? ?? 

- i can’t hang my clothes to dry outside because there’s new housing units that block the natural light to my backyard now lul

- my favourite pho place by my house is gone :( the owner was so nice i never got to say thank u and goodbye bc it went down for renovation over the new year and then suddenly just was announced a new restaurant would take its place like ok.

but i also hope that once this period of grey unknowing passes, or even during the cloud of uncertainty, i can find the same sort of summer moments all year around to bring that same light and warmth and i hope i find my passions and am doing something that makes me happy a year from now idk 

idk can be good now

(cue the “the scary news is ur on ur own now . the cool news is ur on ur own now!” that’s the type of energy i sense from idk what i’m doing with my life but it also opens me up to a lot so i hope i can find something for me) :]

also it’s like kinda dumb but like i’ve been following these daily diary tiktok accounts and like people who started their own youtube channel even with like a couple viewers and it made me want to do it because i don’t have much going on in my life ngl but sometimes i have stuff to say and i’m like well might as well make cute lil videos out of it bc sometimes i feel like it’s pretty like the day it snowed really hard and stuff and when i wanna do these rants idk

i also have that youtube channel i made in grade 12 for the titanic game but i never posted after the app got discontinued and now i wanna post game stuff on it bc i still have some subscribers on that that i would hope would want to watch me play stuff even just for funsies idk cus i’m like well . what if they’re mean or what if they don’t like it but i grew up watching let’s play youtubers and i was never mean and i was like what if they all unsubscribe bc they signed up for titanic game / mobile app game stuff not this horror pc game stuff but . at this point they’ve been subscribed to a dead channel since 2019 and others did unsub (me pretending like it doesn’t hurt my ego that i saw it peak at 51 and now it’s like 45 or something even though i know i haven’t posted in forever lol) but like .. also those girlies on tiktok who posted their daily vlogs were like. “do it! do what u want to, start that channel or business you’ve been thinking of” and i’m like so true!! ok i will!! what’s the harm !! it’s just my vods anyways right !!

idk!!!!

end rant gahhhhh!!!!

[cosmicsystem]

A Failed Gatekeeper

What makes a good man? Is there such thing as “good?” There must be if there is evil, and I certainly believe in evil. I suppose Wynter is a good man. Laydi. Bright. Twilight. Derin. Autumn, even. I assume others would consider them all “good.” 

Loving, dedicated, moral, vulnerable, caring, kind, gentle, happy, sparkling, pure, sacrificial, brave, noble, giving, peaceful, patient, faithful, reliable, loyal, thoughtful, genuine.

I can’t say that I see any of those traits in myself. Not inherently. I am working to be patient and gentle with the little ones. I guess someone could describe me as brave, possibly thoughtful or peaceful depending on the moment (though all of these traits depend on the moment, don’t they?). I am dedicated to the protection of the system, though I am clearly mistaken about what that means. 

I’ve protected the system with walls and control and power for so long… and it’s not enough. It’s never been enough, no matter what I’ve told myself. I’ve not been enough to keep any of us from suffering. 

I can’t even keep them from the darkness I harbor in myself. Darkness twists through everything and everyone, not under the control of anyone. I’ve been fooling myself to think that I could keep it contained behind my door, my walls, crushed inside myself so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. While I’ve not been looking, the toxicity has leaked out onto all the rest of them and burned them like acid. 

Really, I can’t control anything… 

Not myself. 

Not my urges.

Not the outside world. 

Not what happens to us. 

Not what hurts us. 

Not the actions of our headmates.

Not the havoc pain has wreaked in my mind. 

I’ve felt like the king over this place for so long, but I am realizing that I’m playing king with a paper crown over dying bodies, sticking my sigil-flag into a pile of sand and claiming sovereignty over a waste land that I can’t cure. 

It’s all been for nothing. 

While my back was turned, my darkness ate away everything that was good, crushed the very thing I was trying to protect. 

What is the point of me if I cannot do what I was made for? 

I cannot change the past, but the future feels bleak. The amount of strength it would take to climb out of this pit, to get back to the sun, to get back to health… it feels like it would take more strength than I have left. 

And I am not even sure that I can get rid of this darkness. Can I ever conquer the pain and toxic ways that have come so naturally to me for so long? 

I’ve already failed so many times. 

Our therapist says that I am a having a “firefighter” response to all of this – a last resort protective measure, this strong desire to punish myself, to hurt myself, to drink to bury this pain I can’t seem to swallow. 

All I am left with is emptiness. A hollow shame for the actions of the past and for the man that I currently am, a man I am not sure I can let go of. But that is part of protecting the system, part of gatekeeping; this dark shame is my burden to bear so the others are not crushed under its weight. 

People are not safe – I built walls. 

Pain creates fear – I don’t let them hurt us. 

I’ve had my ability to choose taken away from me – I’ve made it to where no one will ever take control away from me again. 

Love is a lie, a manipulation tactic – No one will ever love me, nor I them. 

Truth only ends in blood – I keep my truth buried deep inside me. 

“Life is a game I don’t wanna play, it played me. 

Lost in my ways, I’m lost and afraid and angry. 

Nobody help me. 

I’m not cold, I’m empty. 

You don’t know the hell I’ve been through.

You don’t know the price I’ve paid. 

You can’t see the walls I’m bracing, time I’m facing,

all my days…

This is my misery. 

I want to kill me. 

It’s in my memory but I’m shaking when it fills me.”

And now I am told that confession, bringing light to those dark places, is what I should do if I want to protect the system in the future. If I want to be better at my role moving forward, I need to tear down the walls and protocols that I’ve spent years building. 

I don’t know that I can do that…

#did system #traumagenic did #did osdd #osdd system #traumagenic system #osdd #osdd community #osdd support #system positivity #gatekeepers #lost gatekeeper #trauma #abuse survivor #mental illness #trauma recovery #giving up #alone with my thoughts #therapy #mental health

[biosigh]

Five Years Later

I feel as if I'm floating through space. I can feel the ebb and flow of existence as I drift along a current of dark matter, solar ejecta, and gravity waves among the incontrovertible vastness of this black drip. I gave up journaling five years ago, though not deliberately or intentionally. As with many hobbies, hopes, and dreams, I let it fall to the wayside in an almost childlike and capricious neglect as my senses were inundated with the rush of living presently.

I forgot.

I had been fixated on controlling my present and future that I dismissed the past and its useless reflection as a memoir on my life. A waste of time, at least, that is until I felt existential dread grip me by the ankles and drag me into the cosmos of bleakness where I now find myself tumbling. Looking back, I only see a time capsule, borne in this blog and now surrounded by the degeneracy of tumblr's attempt to fill the vapid nothingness with pitiful offerings.

My life, my present life, is going great. I should have no complaints. I'm heading towards completing my PGY3 year of medical residency, my relationship with my mom is fantastic, I feel well-liked in my circles, I'm in love, and the future just seems so bright to me; I'm heading towards such a luminous future like a star in the distance. Except why do I feel dread?

As my body rolls through space, I see glimpses of that bright star ahead, glimpses of my time capsule behind, and everything else is just darkness. Let me help add some nuance:

I'm heading towards completing my PGY3 year, however I need to find a job. I know I'll get a job, and I know I'll get one where I want to go but the uncertainty of what kind of role I'll have - contractor or employee - soul-killing job or enriching - community or academic - per diem or full time - locum or local? It's tough because I don't know how to circumvent this. Many places want someone soon™ or can't see far enough to want me in a year. Other places want me to sign up, apply and be exclusive with them when I don't feel knowledgeable enough to make a decision without signing away my life for a few years. I'm paralyzed by possibility and I continue to hurtle towards an unknowable future.

My relationship with my mom is fantastic but that came at the cost of losing my dad. He passed during the pandemic but not due to COVID19 - small comfort that is. I felt like he was hanging on until I finished medical school and then felt it was time to leave. I don't think I've ever recovered from that. And inbetween the moments where I think of him and miss him and feel the great weight of loss that this world has, I have glimpses and panic about eventually losing my mom too. Space is cold, no matter how many photos come across me; nothing will ever be as warm as a parent's love.

I feel well-liked in my circles. Everyone seems to want to spend more and more time with me. And as much as I enjoy the welcomeness, I find myself retreating more and more into myself. I don't have gratitude for this because I'm used to striking out my own way. I'm used to solitude. I want to appreciate people, but I feel so exhausted because my time feels owed to others. Relationships are dynamic, and they will eventually die without support. But I so wish I could be a friend who pops in and out. Oddly, the comfort of moving through space is the millennia of solitude.

I'm in love. We're about to enter our 8 years together. He's always given me what I've wanted and what I've needed. And I'm learning to be less selfish in this relationship - I'm not very good at it but I'm learning. I'm afraid that if something happened to him, I will never be able to open up to someone new again (see above). Everyone would be measured against the standard that he is. We worked so hard to forge the relationship of our dreams but my anxieties always brace me for the eventuality - by natural or manmade machinations - that we will be apart. And on and on I float in empty space, alone.

The future seems bright but maybe that's because I can only see nuclear fireworks peppering the sky with blazes of the apocalypse. The future feels bleak. We just survived a pandemic, and an ongoing depression. We have multiple national conflicts stirring with new ones coming around the corners like comets. Are we in the 1920s or 2020s? It's so hard to tell anymore that it feels like time dilation is screwing with my head. Gone were the halcyon days of a promising future, and left behind is the nuclear winter of interstellar space. It's horrifically empty and at times beautifully peaceful.

I just want the spinning to stop. I want to stay frozen in time, locked here blissful in an infinite constant.

[biglisbonnews]

The Raw Humanity of 'Sad' Ben Affleck Ever since the birth of the “Sad Affleck” meme in 2016, Ben Affleck has been considered as the personification of pure ennui, and almost every paparazzi photo only serves to solidify this projection. Many see Affleck as the patron saint of apathy and alienation, because of how many pictures of him taking deep drags of his cigarette (or vape) exist on the internet, with his shoulders a little slumped and a look of glassy-eyed exhaustion on his face — the vibe Twitter said he also brought to the Grammys. However, what made the memes different this time was that they didn't feel as mean-spirited as older jabs, which appeared to celebrate his apparent depression amidst a divorce, some career stumbles and a perceived midlife crisis. Instead, the memes from the Grammys were more about how posters could relate to Ben’s blasé expression, whether it pertained to a night out or just feeling energetically drained. (Jennifer Lopez, for her part, said on Instagram that she had "the best time" there with Affleck.) \u201cBen Affleck is every introvert everywhere. You can see his batteries draining in real time. Man is already at 23% \ud83e\udeab #GRAMMYs #SaveBen \nhttps://t.co/Yv5zmzbPhr\u201d — Dr. Kinda Decent Human (@Dr. Kinda Decent Human) 1675651480 I’ve always had a soft spot for “Sad Affleck” memes, especially as someone who often feels like the dad dissociating on a mall bench outside of an Abercrombie & Fitch. Maybe it’s because I feel seen by his thousand-yard stare; or because I’m a clinically depressed person with an inner 15-year-old boy I’ve named “Pierre” or because I know we’re both people whose struggle with substance abuse started as a way to cope with social anxiety. So even though Ben may be a movie star with a gorgeous triple-threat of a wife and the good kind of zeros in his bank account, it’s nice to see more people approach any apparent expression of emotion and vulnerability with a little more empathy and less toxic masculinity, especially if it’s been met with widespread ridicule in the past. The power of “Sad Affleck” can mostly be chalked up to its realness and relatability factor, which we all know is the secret ingredient for any good meme. Plus, who amongst us hasn’t thought that existing is hard and kind of sucks? That the future is bleak and everything is a chore and a half? Because as a Twitter user wrote, “Ben Affleck at the Grammys is me any time I have to be on a Zoom call,” and it’s nice to know that some of us have started to recognize a little bit of ourselves within Ben’s world-weary expressions.Most memes are quite dehumanizing, and while this is especially true if you’re not a rich, famous white guy, a part of me is still glad to see something on the internet that isn’t outright mockery of a certain individual. And while I do feel a little bad for potentially adding to any past negativity with my previous coverage of “Sad Affleck,” it’s important that the meme is more about embracing a kindred spirit this time around. So, like the other people who see themselves in Affleck's disenchantment, I’m just going to leave it at “same” and take some comfort in the fact that someone else can also feel complete apathy, even if you think they should be the happiest person in the world. Welcome to "Internet Explorer," a column by Sandra Song about everything Internet. From meme histories to joke format explainers to collections of some of Twitter's finest roasts, "Internet Explorer" is here to keep you up-to-date with the web's current obsessions — no matter how nonsensical or nihilistic.Photos via Getty https://www.papermag.com/sad-affleck-grammys-2659384575.html

#Grammys #Jennifer lopez #J lo #Memes #Internet culture #Ben affleck #Sandra Song #PAPER

[cozycottagetarot]

Quick Pick: What Would They Say To You?

2 readings in 2 days, oof 😮‍💨. I’m trying new things so here’s my attempt at a channeled message 😅. This reading is relating to a person you’re currently in a connection with or future spouse. Also, I didn't really proofread it.

That’s all I think?

Enjoy,

Nat ✨

Warnings: Language, One pile is briefly suggestive... very briefly.

PILE 1

I screwed up, I know that… but this scared the shit out of me. There was so much going on and what we had was just so… intense and I ran away. I’m not asking you to forgive, no, I know you’re worth more than that (the way they treated you). I know I didn’t talk about it… but that part was hard. I know you said I could talk to you about anything. But I felt like if I confided in you, then I was only going to hurt you and I don’t want to hurt you. You’re special to me. See— right now I need to work on somethings… work on cleaning up the mess of a world I’m in. I miss you can I want to come back to you but damn. I’m going to show you that I’ve changed… that I’m better now. I’m going to become someone worth your time. And if you don’t want me, then that’s fine. But I’m going to try.

Impressions: regret, a fighter, underdog/determined, sure/confident

PILE 2

I feel like giving you up… or the thought or you… of us at least. I want you, but I’m too afraid to express it. I mean, everything feels so dull right now. Everything feels so bleak. I think about you constantly. In the morning when I wake up, during the day… before I go to bed. I think about you in so many ways. The things I’d do for you, the things I’d do to you. (A dry laugh). What’s the point. Maybe once I’m better you know? When I don’t have all this shit going on in my life. I don’t even know why I feel this way? But I know I do and I like it, but at the same time I’m too afraid to express it. I know, I’m a coward right? But I guess the thing I want you to know is that I love you. And even though I’m still trying to decide what that means and what I want to do next, please don’t give up on me. I’m coming home, baby. I’m coming (back) to you.

Impressions: sitting at a bar with a drink in hand, talking on a pay phone, lying on a bed in the dark talking aimlessly.

PILE 3

I was so fixated on you. I still am. But I can’t seem to let you go. Honestly, I hate to love you. I don’t want to talk to you but at the same time I want to hold you and breathe in your scent. I want to to walk away and forget you even exist, but everytime I decide on it, I start thinking back to the way you laugh and smile when I cracked those stupid jokes. The way your nose would crinkle and I’d tease you about it only for you to cover your mouth and look away. I live for those moments. I wanted to give you everything, I wanted to be someone worth loving. And when you were with (them) it killed me. Because I wanted you here with me instead. That’s why I said those things and acted the way I did. I didn’t mean them, no, I could never. I’ve just got so much to work on and heal but I don’t even know where to begin. And then I think of you… (sigh). How can I fix this when I don’t even know where to begin?

Impressions: angry, darker vibes, outcast, sadness

PILE 4

God I’m so excited. Can you feel me baby? I’m coming. I’m coming into sweep you off your feet. I know it’s been rough. We’ve been connected from the start, facing the same battles in our individual lives. But we’re at the end of it now and we can do our victory dance. Maybe that’ll be our (first) date. I’ll take you out dancing and show you a night on town. It feels surreal. Not that long ago we were struggling, trying to find light in the darkness and now we’re bathing in it. We did that. I’ve been waiting for you for so long, you have no idea. So feeling your energy and the depth of this connection has revived me, renewed my hope. Don’t get me wrong. I’m scared… like terrified but I— For some reason I feel giddy and I’m ready to dive right in. I still need a little bit more time, but promise me that when I ask, you’ll take my hand. Xoxo.

Impressions: excited, bubbly, ready

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a picture #ariesmoontarot #pick a pile reading #pac #pac reading #future spouse tarot reading #songs #Spotify

[stuckybarton]

My Girl

Summary:  When Steve Rogers returned to the past to return the Infinity Stones, he didn't return but someone else did.

Warning: Avengers Endgame Spoilers. Slight Angst. Not Beta’d. English Isn’t my first language so bear with me.

Characters: Unnamed Female Character x Bucky Barnes

Words: 714

A/N: Currently in a writing slump with Volatile. Thought I’d write this little one-shot instead. Also thank you to @lovely-seb for reminding me, this is an inspo from this tiktok btw.

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJSq795T/

Masterlist

~

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

This was Steve's goodbye, a goodbye he knew he needed. The smile on his best friend's lips, as sad as it was reassured him that he will be alright here. He has Sam, he has the rest of the people still here for him if the need ever arises.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

All of his life, this was the man that had been with him. Until the end of the line. Yet, this was the moment that he knew he couldn't be with him anymore. Steve had known far too late now that his time here in the future wasn't really meant to be. As he had hugged his best friend one last time, he had hoped and prayed that everything will be alright for him and for everyone he was now to leave behind.

"I'm gonna miss you, Buddy."

"It's gonna be okay, Buck." With the final reassurance towards his best friend, he had made his way to the time machine.

With the stone and Thor's hammer in his possession, he had put on the suit and waited for the time to be right. Facing the friends he had made here, to Bucky that he will know would fight for a better future for himself and for the world they were not bound to live in.

"Ready, Cap?" Bruce inquired and with a subtle nod, he took one last look at his friends before the countdown pulled him into the Quantum and towards the present he knew he had always wanted for himself.

Bucky had known this was a goodbye to his best friend. He had come to accept it. Five seconds was long enough for him to come to terms with his best friend's choice of staying. Five second of realizing that the panic in the voices of Bruce and Sam were unnecessary.

Turning his gaze towards the dock, a familiar yet unfamiliar form waited. Before he had come to acknowledge his presence, the sound of the time machine came into full force and instead of Steve, someone else far too familiar came, suited in Steve's Quantum suit.

"Bucky?"

And his world comes caving in on him as he turned back to the owner of the voice. The familiar melody of her voice was one of the few reasons that kept him sane in this maddening world. The memories he would often remember when nightmares come knocking on his door.

"Bucky, who is she?" Sam inquired, confusion lingered on his tone.

"My girl." Bucky answered catching her she throws herself at him. "My only girl."

Y/N. The woman he had promised a family with when the war was over. The woman that he never got to keep his promised from.

She was perfect, she was still perfect even when the years were not kind to him. In his favorite dress of hers, she was a ray of sunshine in the polka dot yellow sundress. A common staple during their dates. The dress she had worn when he had promised to marry her as soon as the war was over.

"I thought you were dead." The first line of tears broke from her eyes and he could only wipe away the tears. "I never forgot about you Bucky. I always knew you were alive."

He knew. He had been at her funeral decades ago. With no husband and no children, to have known even in her death that she had waited for him. Finally she was back, in his arms again, like it was always meant to be.

"I'm home." he whispered turning his attention back to the man by the docks. Ironic that Steve was now the wingman between the two of them. "My girl, I'm home now." he whispered finally pulling her into a kiss.

All the bad things he was certain would come in this new life, he was now prepared, accepted it even. For as long as he had her. The world wasn't as bleak and unforgiving for someone like him anymore.

"I love you, Bucky." she pulled away hands resting on his shoulders. Never once did he said the confusion or fear the feeling of the metal arm.

"I love you too, Y/N."

#bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

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