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#feeling sick so going to be on hiatus for a week
woovoung · 8 days ago
jung_wooyoung: don't think i'll be getting out of bed the next couple of days
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gh0stbxtch · 12 days ago
Hello… I hope somebody is reading this.
I understand how sudden and unwarned my hiatus was, and with my last post a month ago I understand that some may think I was gone permanently. But I am here, I am alive. To be honest the past month has been one of the hardest. The hardest I’ve had in a very long time. A small trigger warning for you guys, I will be talking about mental health and things of that sort.
I feel as though the most appropriate way to start this is to mention my school situation would be most appropriate. I grew up being seen as smart, put in harder classes. But when I hit highschool I actually had to try, it was a lot, and with this past year it got even worse. I was incredibly behind, I was failing classes and my parents didn’t take to that well. How were they supposed to show off their smart trophy child huh? So I wasn’t allowed to leave my house to see my friends. It went on for two months, and I lost the ability to care.
My grades never got better, and I was hardly able to get out of my bed. I had to fake being sick just so I wouldn’t have to go to school. I wasn’t eating, and when you have a restrictive eating disorder to begin with, it doesn’t end well. When I was at school I was in a whole other planet. It was like I shut off my brain, I wasn’t even there mentally. I became a robot. When I was mentally there I was almost too aware of what was going on around me. The smallest things would set me off, the way my clothes brushed against me, the sound of peoples breathing, the sound of my breathing.
It was like my personal nightmare.
When school ended I had reached out to the wife of one of my brothers about flying out. I never told her what was going on with me mentally. Just said I needed to get away. So she had me flown out a week ago, and now we are where we are now. I am doing better. I promise. I am doing ok now. I still have a few rough nights, but its ok, everything is ok. I’m ok.
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fanficfreek · 22 days ago
Your Eyes Tell | JJK | 64 (NSFW)
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Logan followed YoonGi into the dorm and looked around to see that balloons and streamers were everywhere. So much for a quiet birthday. Jimin was supposed to be in Paris and TaeHyung told them he’d be in Jeju. Liars.
“Logan!” Jimin hugged her while laughing. “Surprise!”
“Did you really post that video from the plane?” she burst into giggles.
“I would never miss the maknae’s birthday,” he shook his head.
“Well… happy birthday,” YoonGi tossed a gift bag at him.
“Thank you, hyung-ie,” he nodded before catching his girlfriend’s eyes.
“We’re getting ready to go live,” TaeHyung set up the phone.
“Give me a minute,” JungKook dashed off and grabbed Logan’s hand, pulling her into the bathroom.
“Ah!” she squealed as he slammed the door and pushed her against the vanity.
“Are you wearing them?” he purred softly.
“A bet is a bet,” she smirked.
He raised his eyebrows before running his hand down the front of her, pushing his hand between her legs and waiting. “We should make sure it works,” he held out his phone and pressed a button. He felt a vibration in the palm of his hand as her eyes widened and she grabbed onto his shoulders. “Yes!”
“Your hour begins now,” she sighed. “Happy birthday.”
“I think it’s going to be a fun one,” he tilted his head with a bright grin before pressing the button once more.
She bit her lip and pushed him away. He pressed the button and led her out to the kitchen. Without a word spoken, she crossed her arms and stood behind the cameras as he sat behind the cake and gifts. A quick video was shot and pictures taken. The lull in activity caused Logan to make the grave mistake of relaxing. Just as she leaned against the wall, a vibration more intense than the first two,caused her stand up straight and let out a sigh.
Jimin lit the candles and they all sang to him, watching him blow out the candles before they all dug in for some cake.
“How has your hiatus been so far?” TaeHyung asked him.
“Nice. Most ARMY won’t even look at me. It’s funny, I tried to say hello the other day and they looked away. One kept yelling that they weren’t allowed to speak to me. It was so cute.”
“Do you have plans?” Jimin asked Logan.
“Well, tomorrow…” she burst into a bright grin, her face as red as a tomato just after JungKook tapped his phone. “Is our 200th day,” she crossed her legs.
“Congratulations!” they all held up their glasses.
“Thank you!” JungKook grinned brightly.
YoonGi watched as Logan drank down every drop in her glass. “Are you okay?”
JungKook tapped the phone again.
“Fine,” she breathed. “I’m fine.”
“Have you gone to Busan?” Jimin asked JungKook.
“No. We’ve actually been thinking about it. She has two days off in a row next week.”
“We should go together. We can drive and no one will know we’re going.”
“That sounds like fun,” Logan answered before digging her fingers into the table and closing her eyes.
“I’ll do all of the planning,” Jimin spoke while typing into his phone.
“I’ll get you the dates,” JungKook followed.
“I’m jealous,” TaeHyung pouted.
“You’re going to Jeju,” Jimin kicked his foot.
“I know, but trips with Logan-ie are fun.”
“Even so, I’m not going,” YoonGi sighed.
“How’s that mix tape coming along?” Logan teased him.
“Shut up,” he sighed. He didn't want to admit that naps and binge-watching dramas were occupying most of his vacation.
She looked around and noticed that everyone had eaten their portion of cake and immediately began to clean up. She needed a reason to stand and walking to the sink was the perfect excuse… until JungKook tapped the phone once more.
“Oh Goddamn,” she hissed before dashing off to the bathroom. Once she was there, she closed and locked the door, throwing the back of her hand over her mouth.
JungKook grinned evilly as he turned the intensity as high as it would go.
“What is wrong with her?” YoonGi yelled at JungKook.
“I don’t know, I’ll check on her,” he tapped his phone before walking off. When he reached the door, he knocked gently. “Noona,” he purred.
She opened the door and glared at him.
“Do I need to stick my thumb into your mouth?” he teased her as he closed the door behind him.
“This isn’t funny,” she pleaded with him. “How much time do I have left?”
“40 minutes.”
“What?” she yelped as he tapped the button again.
A sharp sigh left her throat as he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her against the vanity once again. “Have you come yet?” he ran his nose down hers.
“Twice,” she whined.
“Show me your third and I’ll turn it off.”
“Of course,” he turned her around to face the mirror and wrapped his arms around her. She turned on the faucet to drown out the noise and glared at him through the mirror until she couldn’t take the relentless vibrations and threw her head back against his chest.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
He kissed her neck as he brought one hand up under her shirt to fondle her breast and the other under her shorts to press against the vibrator.
She clamped her eyes and her mouth shut as she pushed against him and braced herself for a third release.
“That’s it, Baby,” he whispered before kissing behind her ear. “I can’t wait to get you all alone tonight. I bet you’re so tight after this.”
She let out a whimper and caught herself on the vanity as he smiled and tightened his grip on her.
“I bet your panties are soaked,” he murmured against her neck with a smile.
“If I get electrocuted, it’s your fault.”
“I have no regrets,” he pulled her face up to his. “I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well.”
“Whatever,” she smiled as he kissed her.
“Mmmm,” he purred before smacking her on the ass and walking out.
Three sets of eyes turned to him and waited.
“The cake was too sweet, she’s not feeling well,” he explained casually.
“Ah,” Jimin nodded in understanding as YoonGi stared at him.
Logan walked out of the bathroom, her face flushed as she caught the eyes of everyone. “Hi,” she answered slowly.
“Are you okay?” YoonGi looked her over.
“I feel better now,” she nodded her head.
TaeHyung caught the look in YoonGi’s eyes and immediately raised his. “What?!”
“What?” she looked between them. “No! Stupid interpreter!”
“What?” JungKook looked between them.
“Are you sure? Have you been ill before this?” YoonGi asked her.
“Are you?!” Jimin squealed as he clapped his hands together.
“Wh… No!” JungKook finally caught on.
“I lied, okay? I’m not sick. I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m not…” Logan waved her hands.
“Then what’s going on?” TaeHyung looked confused.
“Well shit,” JungKook sighed.
“Okay, so…” YoonGi began. “My parents are having dreams that they’re going to have a baby soon,” he pointed between them.
“What?” JungKook turned to Logan.
“I don’t believe it,” she huffed.
“Okay. Then why did you say you were sick?” TaeHyung asked.
JungKook held up his phone. “Vibrating. Panties.”
Silence filled the entire dorm as they all stared at him.
Logan’s behavior since the moment she walked in suddenly made a lot of sense as YoonGi turned away and scrunched his nose, TaeHyung covered his mouth to hide his smile, and Jimin burst into a fit of laughter.
“I am so done,” Logan mumbled as she returned to cleaning up.
“You know, you just jinxed yourself, right?” TaeHyung turned to JungKook.
“I doubt that.”
“I feel a wager coming on,” Jimin crossed his arms.
“Not going to happen!” Logan called from the kitchen.
“We can still bet on it!”
“It’s your money,” she sighed.
TaeHyung turned to YoonGi. “Okay, start from the top…”
◀︎· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·▷
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generalfoolish · 26 days ago
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Chaaj'miit: broadcast, message
Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)
Warnings: mentions of death/almost dying
Word count: ~1.4K
Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader
Summary: A Mandalorian is sick of Dagobah
A/N: Hey babes! This is part of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. Don't hate me for the hiatus! My SIL graduated, and I was celebrating her/driving across the country lol. I'm working to get caught up, so MandoMay might bleed into Jedi June (idk if that's a thing, but it'd be a pretty good theme if it was) Enjoy 💕
Masterlist | Ad'ika | Mirshmure’cya
Let me know if you want to be tagged!
“Leia has sent a chaaj’miit.” Luke told you from the doorway, arms crossed and a frown firmly in place.
“I’m fine, Luke. I’m completely healed. Not even a scar to show for it.” Your attempted joke fell flat at his feet. In the two weeks you’d been under his care, Luke had been angry. It radiated off of him, rolled in harsh waves from his very center. You knew he was trying to assuage it, and you knew he was meditating more and more to recenter. He had been adamant that he had to find a balance, but you knew that every time you winced the anger resurged.
“You should get some food, and I will give you the message.” He told you with a small shake of his head, before turning and leaving the hut. You had learned, piece by piece, that Luke wasn’t angry at Din, he was angry at you. He found your actions dense, and when he had heard your reasoning he had lost it.
You were surprised that he was so mad at you. You had told Din as much, but he had waved Skywalker’s emotions off.
“They run hot.” Was all Din had offered about the Skywalkers, which left more questions than answers. But Din, too, was treating you differently. Gone were the rough actions of the warrior, gone was the gruffness of his voice. He had treated you like a rare porcelain since you had woken up. He had refused to touch you at all, at first. You knew he was scared, you had felt his trembling hands skate across your skin, before he decided on a soft touch to your cheek.
Even Grogu treated you like you’d break apart if he touched you too hard, or blow away in the breeze if he wasn’t looking at you.
You were going crazy. You were a mandalorian. You were strong and resilient. You didn’t need those closest to you acting like you were anything but. You had worried Din about it, snapping when he refused to kiss you one night.
“I’m not fragile.” You had murmured, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.
“You almost died, cyare. I can be soft with you while you heal.” You groaned at him, but didn’t push it. You knew he was right. You knew he felt guilty.
Still, you wanted someone to be rough with you. When Luke told you about Leia’s message you knew that it was time. Time to get back out there and back into the fight. Your companions had other ideas, though.
Sitting next to Grogu on a log, you dug into the stew, and asked Luke what Leia had said.
“She has new coordinates for us.” Luke told his stew, not meeting your eyes.
“That’s good news.” You told him, encouraging him to finish the message. You glanced at Din, but he kept his dark eyes on his bowl. You scoffed. “We aren’t going.” Luke shot his eyes to yours and shook his head. You looked back to Din, and found his eyes already searching yours. You pleaded with them the best you could. Praying that those molten caf eyes saw something to change his mind.
You had to get off of Dagobah. You needed to punch something. You wanted to feel powerful.
A simple back and forth dashed your hope. You contained the tantrum you felt brewing. Your first instinct was to launch your dinner at Luke or Din or the fire or something, and then started hitting until someone took you to space. You didn’t do that. You were at the mercy of the men you had come to love, in different ways but love nonetheless. You knew they wanted to protect you, but you were now more than a month behind. You had taken another week of bed rest, more for Din’s sake than anything, and two weeks of taking it easy on the swamp planet. Longer than you would have given yourself. Longer than Din would have given himself.
“It’s for you.” Din told you quietly, the crackling of the fire nearly drowning him out. You scoffed again. Luke cleared his throat.
“Din and I could go, if that would help you?” He suggested, and you felt your blood boil.
“I’m fine. Better even, than I was before. We took sometime to rest, and now I’m ready to leave.”
“You almost d--” You cut Din off with a laugh, a sharp barking thing.
“I almost died because of bad intel and bad company.” You spat at him, and he recoiled just as you had hoped he would. “That’s right. I almost died because of you, Din. You can’t keep me here out of guilt.” You whirled to Luke, venom dripping in your tone and you had to keep from baring your teeth to him. “And you, what’s your problem? I’m not your pet. I’m a mandalorian, I don’t need to be babysat by a jedi.” You stood and stomped off before the men were done reeling.
You regretted everything you said before you lost the heat of the fire. As you stepped into the cold, dark air of the swamp, you squeezed your eyes shut.
That was properly shitty. That voice told you, snaking its way into your gut and squeezing tight. Even for you. It snarled, the words catching like chipped metal against your frayed nerves. You felt rawer than you ever had. Your heart hurt, and you knew that it was because of how you had hurt them. Your friends, your lover. Why had you done that? Because you were tired of them doting on you? Because you were tired of them caring about you? Because you wanted to rush headlong back to the fight?
The truth was, you were tired. You didn’t mind the break. You had grown weary of Luke’s disapproval. You had grown feral with the need for Din to touch you. You had missed Grogu yanking your hair and scratching your arms. You had missed the jolt of adrenaline during battle. But nothing so bad that you needed to hurt those close to you.
You wanted to turn around and apologize to them. You wanted to, but stubbornness and pride kept you from turning around.
You stood in the dark, and in the quiet, until another set of footsteps approached. The gait told you it was Din, and you held your breath as he came to a stop behind you.
You hadn’t meant that it was his fault. Not really. You knew he was fighting something darker, something he wouldn’t let you in on. You didn’t blame him, though. You also didn’t know how to tell him that.
“Come on, we’re leaving.” He told you quietly, his voice a low rasp. You turned to face him, and hadn’t prepared well enough. The look on his face was a punch to your stomach. He looked dejected. He looked like he wanted to walk into the swamp and never return. Your fingers twitched to smooth his brow, or squeeze his hand, or anything other than hang beside you limp and useless.
“Din, I-” He held up a hand, the skin paler than usual under the moonlight.
“Don’t.” He told you softly, and you could have wept.
Why were you so hateful? Why had you said those things born of frustration like they were true? Why had you thrown his kindness back into his face?
You followed Din back to the ship, and noticed the fire had been hastily kicked out, and Luke was gone. You tried to stop your heart from breaking, assuring yourself that you deserved worse for your little outburst. Regardless, of your efforts, you felt it break. The schisms and cracks opening wider, letting more darkness in, and as you trudged up the ramp of the Crest, you hoped that Din had gotten the coordinates from Luke.
Tagged: @charlispersonallyhell @magikfanatic
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sylphrenas · a month ago
flarrie owns my entire soul,,,so,,,flarrie,,,matching,,,jewelry,,,no thoughts head empty
okay, but imagine them getting charm bracelets in like. first grade. little flynn and little carrie are wandering around the mall and, of course, the jewelry store catches their eye and they run into it to look at all the pretty, shiny things. and then they spot the shelf full of charms. trevor, their chaperone for the day, rolls his eyes but buys them both a bracelet, and they choose their very first charm: a small, gleaming gold and white wing. “an excellent choice,” the store owner praises them, and they turn to each other and grin excitedly. “wings symbolize protection, harmony, and love.” flynn and carrie chatter away as the lady puts the charms on their bracelets, and then helps them put them on. flynn gets hers on her right wrist, and carrie her left. “so that we can hold hands and they can touch,” flynn announces proudly. carrie beams and grabs flynn’s hand, and they both giggle at the sound of the bracelets clinking together.
they make it a tradition. every year, on the same day, trevor drives them to the mall and they pick a new charm for their bracelet. each time, they ask the owner what the charm symbolizes, and each time, she answers and compliments their taste with a smile at trevor over their heads. 
second grade - a delicate mermaid figure. “love and happiness.” simple, but maybe that’s all they need.
third grade - they meet julie. they choose a butterfly. “positive change, hope, and guidance. a beautiful choice,” the owner praises.
fourth grade - a sea shell. neither of them are quite sure what kind of shell it is, but they like the texture of the thin, gold lines and it symbolizes renewal and inspiration, so who are they to reject it?
fifth grade - they get in their first real fight only a week before their charm date. when the day comes, trevor pulls up to flynn’s house, and flynn is already waiting outside. she climbs in the car, nods to carrie, and the first word spoken all day by anyone is the owner when she views their crossed arms, pouty expressions, and hands them each a small, golden seahorse. “with persistence and patience,” she claims, “you can overcome anything.” flynn and carrie turn to each other with hesitant smiles, and trevor nods gratefully at the owner.
sixth grade - middle school is a change, and carrie has never liked change. it stresses her out. she and flynn return to the mall, same as every year, and decide on a delicate, silver anchor. safety, security, and hope. carrie leaves the mall a little bit less anxious than before, flynn’s hand still gripped in her own.
seventh grade - they meet nick. he’s perfectly nice, and so are his dads, and flynn likes him and julie likes him, so it only makes sense that he joins their little group. but carrie can tell that he likes her. she just doesn’t know why she can’t look at him like that. or why she can look at flynn in that way. when they go to the mall this time, they settle on the dragonfly for clarity, inner peace, and positive change. carrie doesn’t let herself think about why flynn might need the clarity too. it would be too much to let herself hope.
eighth grade - their last year of middle school goes smoothly. no fights, no drama, no stress about anything except the usually amount from schoolwork. flynn pulls carrie by the arm to look at an elephant charm. the owner smiles at them with the smile that they can’t quite decipher, one that hints at something they haven’t quite figured out yet. then, she shares that the elephant is for “good luck, strength, wisdom, and protection.” “everything we’ll need to survive high school,” carrie says to flynn. flynn snickers and nods at the owner to confirm their decision, and carrie thinks she would give anything to see flynn smile at her like that forever.
ninth grade - flamingos. inner peace and stability. barely a month later, they have the fight. flynn and julie against carrie, with nick somewhere in the middle. carrie knows it’s her fault, but she is just so angry at them. so why does she only feel that rage directed toward herself? why, when she looks at flynn and julie talking, or hanging out together, or when she sees flynn laughing or smiling at something someone else said, does she feel nothing but an overwhelming ache in her chest? she vaguely lets herself wonder if this is what heartbreak feels like. the next day, she says something awful to julie and flynn accuses her of being heartless before storming off. carrie silently agrees, and any feelings other than cold determination are firmly packed in a box and put away. carrie throws herself into dirty candy, throws herself at nick. they start dating, and both of them know it doesn’t work, but neither of them have the courage to end it. one day, carrie notices that flynn isn’t wearing her bracelet. she looks down and, with a dull, hollow feeling, realizes that her wrist hasn’t felt the weight of the charms in weeks. 
tenth grade - carrie hears from nick that julie’s mom became sick over the summer. that something benign quickly became anything but. that the funeral was last weekend, and oh, were you not invited? sorry, i didn’t realize. no, she wasn’t invited. she wouldn’t have gone, anyway. she wouldn’t have. she wouldn’t have. she wouldn’t have. it doesn’t matter. she didn’t, and now it’s over. the charm date sneaks up on her, and her phone buzzes with the reminder that she set for herself years ago. she’s never needed it until today. she doesn’t plan to go; she really doesn’t, but an hour later, and she’s standing in front of the charm store, anxiously biting her lip and feeling too unsteady to step inside, bracelet dangling from her fingers. and then she sees very familiar braids peek out from behind a shelf of earrings, and without thinking, she walks in. she stops in front of the charms and refuses to look when flynn walks up next to her, but she can tell that they look radiant as always. with a quick glance sideways, carrie confirms that flynn, too, has her bracelet between her fingers rather than on her wrist, and it hurts, far more than it should. when the store owner approaches them, she instantly notices the tension, much heavier than anything she’s seen before, and she knows a charm and a speech won’t break through the wall they’ve built between themselves. but she also knows something else, and so she hands them each a small, silver plated unicorn. flynn raises an eyebrow and carrie scoffs. “we’re not in second grade, you know.” flynn says nothing, but the store owner sees the agreement in her eyes. she smiles. “unicorns. magic and positive energies. anything is possible.” carrie rolls her eyes at the crypticness of her words, but allows the woman to put the charm on her bracelet. she leaves with absolutely no intention to look back, but something turns her head as she’s about to leave the mall. her eyes lock with flynn’s and she should say something, should take this opportunity to walk over, to apologize, to ask for forgiveness even though she doesn’t deserve it. but she waits too long. flynn turns back around and walks away. and carrie feels herself fracture a little bit more. she looks back at her bracelet. at the unicorn, gleaming brightly. “magic. positive energies. yeah, right.” and then julie comes back to life with her new hologram band, and everything changes. and carrie is completely caught off guard, and there’s something off about julie’s band and carrie needs to find out what it is and julie is rising up and carrie is sinking down and she can’t breathe. she gets colder and crueler than she would’ve thought possible. nick breaks up with her. julie’s band upstages her again. her dad starts acting weird about the holograms. and then julie performs stand tall, begins and ends the performance on her own, and if the holograms saved her before, she’s strong enough to save herself now. and reluctantly, carrie realizes she’s proud. later, she sits on her bed and thinks about everything that’s happened, and she realizes she’s sorry. she thinks of julie’s expression every time carrie insulted her for being unable to play, and she thinks of julie’s expression after her latest performance. she starts to think of flynn, of every barbed-wire insult they traded and of every disgusted glare flynn would send her. she wonders if maybe it’s not too late to fix it, and her fingers brush the unicorn charm on her bracelet. the texture startles her and she looks down, and is taken back to that day in the store. anything is possible. “huh.” she speaks for the first time since the orpheum, and she lets a tiny bubble of hope escape from where she had locked it all inside.
eleventh grade - it’s been a year and carrie has made progress. dirty candy is on hiatus for the time being and julie and the phantoms is growing stronger than ever. and so is carrie’s friendship with julie and flynn. it’s not easy, and it doesn’t happen fast, but after heartfelt apologies and lots of time and effort, everything begins to slot back into place. it feels like they’re all the same puzzle, but this time they’re cut into different pieces, and they have to find a new way to fit together again. it’s slow progress at first - finding the corners and the edges to create the frame, but then they begin to fill in the middle and they can see the full picture again, and it’s beautiful, and carrie feels relieved and happy and whole for the first time in years, and it’s enough. it’s more than she could’ve hoped for or expected. sometimes, sitting in her room at night, she thinks it’s more than she deserved. and maybe she’s right. but it doesn’t matter, because it’s real now and it’s real when julie grins at her and bumps her shoulder during class, and it’s real when she squeezes between julie and flynn during movie nights as they watch tangled for the seventeenth time, and it’s real when flynn winks at her, eyes sparkling deviously, daring her to jump in the pool, and it’s real when she pulls flynn in after her, followed by julie, all three of them laughing and shrieking like they’re in the third grade again, when everything was perfect. and it is perfect again, it’s just a new definition. carrie likes this version more. so it’s no surprise when flynn wakes her up with a loud knock on her bedroom door and a massive smile to match it. “you know what day it is!” and carrie does know. and she and flynn drive to the store, and pointedly look away from each other to hide their blushes when the owner smirks proudly at their demeanors. “i see you two made up.” carrie nods with a hesitant smile, as if she’s not allowed to. she looks to the side and sees flynn already grinning back at her, and her own smile widens. “so, which charm should we get this time?” flynn cocks her head to the side, stares at the wall of charms for a moment before pointing at one. “a flower?” carrie questions. “isn’t that… i don’t know… sort of boring?” flynn doesn’t even get a chance to respond before the owner interjects: “on the contrary, dear, the flower is one of the most beautiful symbols. it carries messages of new beginnings, endless possibilities, friendship, and love.” flynn and carrie barely exchange a glance before agreeing. “let’s do that one.” the owner only smiles enigmatically as she places the charms on their bracelets, and carrie once again wonders what she knows that they don’t. 
twelfth grade - they walk into the store holding hands and the store owner smiles proudly. “i’m so happy for you two.” flynn wraps an arm around carrie’s waist, pulls her closer. “i’m pretty happy myself.” carrie blushes, grins. “so how long have you been waiting for this to happen?” the store owner laughs as she unlocks the charm case, and answers carrie’s question with her own: “well, let’s see, how long have you two been coming here?” flynn laughs and leans over carrie’s shoulder to glance at the charms, the action somehow feeling so much more intimate than ever before. after a moment of looking, carrie smirks and nudges flynn’s shoulder with her own. “how about this one?” flynn glances at the charm that carrie is pointing at and laughs. “it’s perfect. very fitting.” at carrie’s nod, the store owner picks up the charm and holds it out for them to examine. “rainbow: good luck, positive energies, new beginnings, and love.” carrie feels her blush return at the last word, and she smiles softly at flynn’s matching expression. “we’ll take it.”
taglist because i actually like this lmao (send an ask to be added)
@rexlapi @julie-and-the-himbo-ghosts @willex-n-waffles @wlwcarries @girlboss-molina @julieandthequeers @lemonade-potahto @adhd-disaster-willie @itstiger720 @zoyyanazyalensky @breezykiwi14 @genyyasafin 
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quickspinner · a month ago
Lukanette petty 👀👀👀 you have so many ideas!! I'm so impressed!!
To be fair these have been accumulating for more than a year at this point. I do have a lot of random things pop into my head though so you can see why I have to set some aside (or infect others with them--nothing is sweeter to my eyes than someone in the discord going DAMMIT QUICK). 
Anyway, I think I wrote this one while I was working on Killer Combo and thinking about Luka’s ex in the band. I also take great joy in the HC that Luka is secretly petty. Not one to really get upset over things, but that doesn’t mean he forgets, and if he has an opportunity to take revenge in a small way, he absolutely will. 
Anyway, the idea is pretty fully encapsulated here, but I thought, if I wanted to publish it and get it to be something I was really happy with, I’d have to spend a lot more time on the buildup instead of just summarizing, so that we’re a bit more in the moment with the characters by the time we get to this place. I don’t really feel like it works all that well as it is, and I didn’t have enough motivation to go back and fix it with so many other things I was trying to work on, so I shelved it.
No one would ever accuse Marinette Dupain-Cheng of having good timing. She was always just a little bit off, and it had never stung more than in her relationship with Luka. The phrase ‘two ships passing in the night’ came to mind, except they were more like two drunken skippers doing erratic circles in a pond in the dark, and never quite managing to meet up. Just as she got over her crush, he found a new one, and broke up with her about a month after Marinette had started dating someone new. Somehow their friendship had survived it all, those buried feelings resurfacing for one or the other at all the wrong moments.
And now here they were, both single, and still not able to find the right time. Luka was coming off of a bad breakup with a girl who had left him for a bandmate—without bothering to tell him until she’d been sleeping with said bandmate for nearly a month. 
Luka had been hurt badly, though he was oddly philosophical about the whole thing. He told Marinette once that it wasn’t losing her as a person that hurt, because clearly the person he thought she was was just a fantasy, or she’d never have done something like that. It was having his trust broken by both a friend and a lover that really hurt him. 
Marinette, who’d been single for some time, after a string of boyfriends who weren’t bad but who just weren’t quite right either, had been quietly devastated when he said he was taking a break from dating for a while. A break which, he made subtly clear, included her. Despite knowing he was right, it took the added knowledge that Luka believed very strongly in honoring others’ choices to keep Marinete from throwing a very immature tantrum at her bad luck. She closed her mouth and smiled the best she could, doubting very much she was fooling him. 
Finally they were joking around one day, slightly buzzed on beer and hot wings, being egged on by his sister and her friends, and things were said, and somehow it ended in an agreement, only half-joking, that Luka would forgo his relationship hiatus and date her if she could convince him to kiss her in the next week. 
And despite the joking tone, Marinette had done her best.
Now the week was nearing its close, and Marinette found Luka sitting on the steps outside of a party, a nearly-full beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
“Hey,” she said, sitting next to him. 
“Hi,” Luka said, setting the bottle on the step next to him. 
“Sick of the party?” she asked sympathetically.
“Sick of a lot of things,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Marinette pulled his hands away and smoothed his locks down with her own. “Marinette,” he sighed, as she was distracted by the sight of something behind him—or rather someone walking up the sidewalk in a tight dress, no cheating band member friend in sight. “Look, you know I usually don’t mind this whole game but I’m really not in the mood tonight.” Marinette refocused on him, and realized her hands were on his face, her thumb caressing his cheek absently, and let them slide away as an idea formed in her mind. 
“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “If it doesn’t work this time, I’ll stop trying.” She slid closer to him on the step and looked up at him tilting her head to let her hair fall just so and fluttering her lashes teasingly. He raised his eyebrows slightly, but couldn’t help a grin at her silliness.
“Okay,” he sighed, “Give it your best shot.” 
“Okay.” Marinette leaned up into his space. “Then I have just a couple things to say and if you still don’t want to kiss me, I’ll leave you alone.” 
“I’m listening,” he murmured, and the softness in his eyes was encouraging.  
“First, I really, really want to kiss you,” Marinette said, watching him swallow as his eyes drop to her mouth at the words. “And second,” she purred, leaning even closer to whisper, “Your ex is watching.”
His head twitched like he wanted to turn and look, but Marinette knew he wouldn’t. Luka was a chill, mature guy, but there was a lot about him that not many people knew. There was a lot about him that people seemed unwilling to believe because it didn’t fit into their idea of the person he was, no matter how much evidence they were presented with.
But Marinette had known Luka for a long time, had loved him for a long time, and this was something she knew with absolute certainty. 
Luka Couffaine was petty. 
Given her choice, Marinette wouldn’t have used that against him. She’d rather have had their first kiss untainted by any thought of that woman, but desperate times called for desperate measures and…let’s be honest, she was more than willing to dole out a little payback herself. 
So when Luka tilted his head and kissed her, she didn’t quibble, just put her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his hair, parting her lips and letting him take his revenge in whatever way he saw fit.
Marinette certainly wasn’t complaining. 
“Is she still there?” Luka panted against her lips. 
“Yep,” Marinette giggled, rubbing her nose against his. “And the look on her face is priceless.” 
Luka whined slightly. “God I wish I could see it.” 
“Whatever makes you happy,” Marinette grinned, sliding into his lap and tugging his face to hers for a soft kiss. When she released him, he was looking right at his ex beyond her ear. Marinette tilted her head invitingly and Luka lowered his mouth to her neck, muffling his laugh against her skin.
“I think she’s turning purple,” he murmured, and then nipped her skin. “You don’t play fair, Marinette, but I can’t even be mad about it. How about dinner tomorrow?” 
“Deal,” Marinette said breathlessly, gasping as he began to suck at her pulse. “It’s a date.” 
“She’s coming,” Luka murmured, and nearly ruined everything by laughing as Marinette let out a loud, indecent moan while a pair of heels clomped loudly up the step next to them. “You’re the best,” Luka managed, lifting his face to kiss her on the mouth again. 
“She’s gone,” Marinette reminded him.
“Does that mean I have to stop?” Luka asked, nibbling on her lower lip.
“Do you...want to stop?” Marinette asked, pulling back to look at him.
“No, not really,” he sighed. “I still don’t think this is the healthiest start for a relationship, but...I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, I really don’t want to stop.” 
“Okay,” Marinette said, a grin spreading across her face. “Then you don’t have to stop, as long as I don’t have to stop either.” 
“Deal,” Luka agreed, and their mouths crashed together.
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allys-creative-bubble · a month ago
When Our Worlds Collided (10)
Square filled : Dream Sequence
Summary : Acting in shows and having a massive fan base Jensen's life was going alright until one day he woke up and found out that he is zapped into the universe where he is not a star and the character he played is real.
Ship : Jensen Ackles x Winchester Reader
Warnings : angst (a lot of it), morning sickness, pregnancy, sick reader, a little bit of fluff, angry Dean, mentions of abortion
Characters : you, Jensen, Dean, Sam, Bobby, mentions of few ocs
Created for @spnmixedbingo
Word count : 3107
A/n : So, here it is the 10th part of this series and three more parts to go, after it went on an unexpected hiatus. @katelynw93 thanks a lot for being an amazing beta. Divider by @firefly-graphics
Ps, catch up with the series here
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Jensen's POV 
He was still lying on his bed, the blanket covering him completely when he felt a sudden shift of weight. Opening his eyes, he saw Y/N straddling his waist. His hands immediately found her hips, unable to believe what he was seeing. 
“Y/N?” He asked in surprise, his brows raising. She smiled sweetly down at him, wearing nothing but a white, flowy dress, and looked just like an angel.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, still trying to process that she was actually there. 
“Shh..” she cooed softly, pressing a finger against his lip to silence him. “Don't say anything,” she instructed, grinning at him. 
“But Y/N, how did you-” she clamped her hand over his mouth suddenly. 
“You ask too many questions Jensen…” She sighed “it's good here, isn't it. No monsters, no Dean or Sam or anyone. Just you and me, it's just us,” she whispered to him. 
He tightened his hold on her and pulled her in. “Yeah, it sure is,” he agreed, flipping her around so that he was the one on top. They both grinned at the same time, their excitement evident. 
She bit on her lower lip and looked up at him through long lashes. “You should probably get up,” She informed, “it's time for you to leave for the shoot.” She reminded him. 
“Shoot can wait,” he dismissed, a cocky grin forming as he attacked her neck with his mouth.
“Jensen,” she moaned at his affection and it only encouraged him to kiss deeper. “Jensen, stop it,” she said through a giggle as his beard pricked her smooth skin. 
“Make me,” he replied and continued kissing. 
“Jensen! Wake up,” she said out loud, the words random and made little sense. 
“What? I'm already up, sweetheart,” he said as he didn't understand what she meant.
“No you're not, wake up, Jensen” she said in a more serious tone. 
He opened his eyes suddenly and found himself lying on the luxurious bed that he owns. It was the same dream again... just over two months has passed since he’d returned home and every night since then, he’s been having the same dream over and over again, despite a few changes to the details here and there.
He was still waiting for the day when his dream won’t just be a dream anymore and that Y/N will actually be here when he wakes. But with every day that passed and nothing seemed to change, his hope was beginning to dwindle. Y/N was still not here. 
His life fell back into the same old routine about a week after he’d come back. He tried going out with someone, to help keep his mind distracted but it didn't work. His heart missed Y/N, too much. 
Work was no longer the same either. While shooting Y/N and Dean scenes, it only reminded him of the things he’d lost and often found himself looking at Allison the way he’d used to look at Y/N and it was awkward. 
He felt like leaving the show at a point but he chose against it. He was glad that the directors were not using the same storyline that he experienced. Instead, they brought Misha back onto the show and Y/N and Castiel were reunited. That was a relief for him. 
He overheard Robert Singer mention an original script and that they were glad they had altered it to something more viewer friendly. They never really told him about the original script but he assumed that it was indeed what happened between him and Y/N. 
He got ready for the shoot that day and left his house, although he couldn't seem to leave the thoughts of her behind. 
Your POV
You found yourself leaning over the toilet bowl once again this morning. The cool porcelain felt good against your overheated skin as you heaved. 
You shifted back once you were finished and sat on the tile floor as you thought you were done, but then another wave of nausea overpowered you. You leaned in again as more of last night’s dinner made its way out of your mouth. 
You flushed it and stood up to wash your mouth, silently hoping that this time was the last. It's been over two months since Jensen had left and you'd been staying with Charlie since. 
Staying with Charlie had helped you a lot; honestly, it was like taking a fresh breath of air. The pair of you hunted in between her teaching you a few things about hacking. During those two months, you’d learned a considerable amount and the two of you became closer than ever. You'd even gotten the opportunity at being her wingwoman, as she'd developed a crush on a waitress named Stevie. 
You’d call your brothers every now and then, and told them not to worry about you, even if you knew that would never happen. Whenever anyone would mention Jensen, you completely shut them off and so no one dared to talk about him in front of you again. It was just too hard.
“You okay?” Charlie asked through the door as you stood in front of the sink and stared at the reflection that the mirror attached has been showing. 
“Yeah, must have been something I ate,” you said, shrugging it off as nothing. 
“Alright,” she sighed, still worried but left. You let out a breath and ran a hand through your hair, but froze. In the mirror’s reflection, you spotted a box of tampons lying on the floor. 
Your eyes widened as you looked at it; it had been a while since you had your last period and you realised that you've been puking ever since you woke up this morning. 
You remembered the night you spent with Jensen and your stomach flipped, “No, it can't be..” you whispered to yourself feeling paranoid. 
You came out of the connecting bathroom and silently closed the door behind you. You sat on the bed and picked on your nails, nervous. Charlie came towards you and sat down beside you, picking up on your distress. “Y/N, are you sure that you're okay?” She asked you again.
“No, I don't know how to put this Charlie…. I… I'm late,” you said, hinting your suspicion. 
“By that do you mean… are you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 
“I think so, I'm not sure,” you replied, trying to keep yourself calm.
“I don't know if I should ask this, but if you are then... who is the father?” She asked curiously. You stared at her blankly, not sure what to say. 
“Wait.. it's not Jensen, right?” She asked, staring at you. You frowned and looked away, “Oh my God! When did this happen? I knew he had a thing for you but this.. Y/N I can't believe it.” She said with the look of shock evident in her face.
“Can you please not,” you requested of her, hearing his name too much to bear. 
“Sure, sorry,” she apologized. “Do you want me to get a test for you or something?” She asked you, trying to be helpful. You nodded your head as a yes. “Great, I'll be back in a few,” she said and left. You looked down at your bed and spotted your phone. 
You picked it up and dialled Sam's number before pressing the phone to your ear. “Y/N, hey,” He answered in no time and the tears welled up as soon as you heard his voice from the other end.
“Sammy,” you whispered, doing your best not to cry.
“Y/N/N is everything alright?” He asked with concern. 
“Yeah,” You assured him, “I just wanted to talk to you,” you said, closing your eyes tightly, causing the tears to fall on your cheeks. 
“You don't sound okay, Y/N” he said suspiciously.
“It's just… I… I miss you two alot, that's it,” you said, wiping your tears.
“Do you want us to come see you or bring you here?” Sam asked you. 
“No, it's fine, I'll come back when I want to, just not now,” you replied.
“You sure, Y/N? If you want to we can-” he began, but you cut him off.
“Sammy! I told you it's okay, I'll be fine,” you snapped and hung up. Charlie returned a few minutes later with a test kit in her hand. 
You took it into the bathroom and thoroughly read over the directions before taking the test. You paced around the small space while you waited for the results. Anxiously you started biting at your nails as you watched the timer countdown to zero. As you grew more and more nervous, the urge to throw up came back to you. You sat in front of the toilet bowl and emptied whatever contents remained into it again. 
After washing your mouth out again, you picked up the test and you frowned at the results that had appeared and you buried your face in your hands.
“What happened?” Charlie asked, knocking at the bathroom door. 
“Let me come out,” you shouted from the inside. Composing yourself, you came out and showed her the test. 
What are you going to do now?” Charlie asked, looking at the positive sign. 
“I have no idea,” you said as your voice began to crack. 
She hugged you tightly as the tears made their way out of your eyes. “What do I do?” You asked helplessly between your tears. 
“It's completely up to you, Y/N, but we will be here for you no matter what,” she said, reassuring you. 
“No, Dean will kill me if he finds out!” you said in a rush, crying. 
“No, he won't Y/N, I promise, but there are still other options for you, though” she reminded you. You placed a hand on your lower stomach. 
“What? You want me to get rid of it?” You asked, frowning at her. 
“No, that's your choice to make. I'm just saying that it is an option,” she said in her defence, trying to keep you from panicking. 
“Can you please just leave me alone for a few minutes, I need some time to think,” you requested of her. 
“Sure,” she said and closed the door on her way out. 
You sobbed into the pillow lying next to you, as you had no idea what to do. Jensen wasn't even here and you knew that it was impossible for you to ever see him again. 
It would be stupid of you to hope that you ever would, so maybe I should just get rid of the baby, you thought to yourself. Sighing, you got up and went to take a shower. You felt gross and sore after your morning of puking.
You finished and got dressed quickly, having decided to go to a hospital in order to get rid of the baby. You asked Charlie to come with you. “Are you sure that this is what you want?” She asked you. 
You nodded your head and watched in silence as Charlie drove. Memories of him made their way back to you, and only added to the guilt; you felt terrible doing this. 
He loved you so much and he never failed to show it to you. He tried to protect you, even if it meant he would die. He confessed that he loved you multiple times and you didn't even say it back, not even once.
You reached the hospital before you knew it. “Okay, here we go,” Charlie said out loud, waiting for you to make the first move. You both got out of the car and walked into the hospital. 
His memories still refused to leave you, tormenting you as you made your way up the hallway. Right now, in this moment in time, all you wanted was to be wrapped in his arms again.
You approached the gynaecologist’s office to get an abortion. She said she needed to run a few tests before you were able to get started with the procedure. 
She ran an ultrasound, among other tests,  and as laid in the uncomfortable bed, you stared up at the image in front of you. Tears welled up into your eyes as you realised you were going to kill it. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Charlie asked you once again, noticing your hesitation. You looked up at her then at the fluttering image. 
You closed your eyes shut for a second, the sound of its heartbeat loud in your ears. “I don't… I can't do this,” you said out loud, changing your decision. The doctor respected your choice and cleaned the gel from your belly. You got up as soon as your ultrasound was completed and started driving home.
As you approached the apartment , the two of you noticed that the door was left open, knowing for a fact that it had been locked. You went in, guns drawn for safety, but were instantly relieved to find Dean in the living room. 
“Dean, what the hell are you doing here?” You asked as you went in, putting your gun aside. “Sam told me about your conversation, so I wanted to see you and before you ask, yeah I broke in.” he said looking up at you. 
“Oh,” you replied, rolling your eyes at him with annoyance. “Where did you two go anyway?” He asked curiously. 
Your heart hammered against your chest when he asked you that. “Nowhere,” you did your best to shrug it off. You took off your coat and accidentally dropped your hospital file onto the floor. 
“What’s that?” He asked, looking down. You quickly pulled that file out of his view. “Nothing” you said quickly as you tucked the file under your arm. 
“Then why are you hiding it from me? Let me see what it is,” he pushed, trying to convince you. “No,” you replied, staying firm and refusing. 
He stepped closer to you and tried to take it from you anyway. You didn't let him, “Dean can you not, what are we, twelve?” you asked angrily. “Whatever, I want to see what it is,” he said, trying to grab the file from you. 
“Don't spoil it!” you screamed, trying to keep it away. The file dropped to the floor again. He got to it before you could. You tried to pull it away from him, but he just pushed you away. 
He opened the file and started reading it. His eyes widened and he turned to look at you, “Tell me that this is not true,” he said glaring at you. You looked down silently. 
“Y/N Y/M/N Winchester, tell me this. Is. Not. True.” He said, raising his voice at you. You didn't answer and stood in silence. 
“Are you pregnant?” He asked angrily. “Uh- yes and no, except it's not no,” you hesitated, starting to get quite scared of your oldest brother. “What Y/N/N? How did it even happen? Who is the father?” He demanded, wanting answers from you. 
Your mouth went dry, you had no idea what to say. “It's just some random guy from a bar I hooked up with last month. He said he would call me, but he never did,” you lied . 
“What? What kind of douchebag never calls you back? I've seen guys flirting with you from left to right just to spend a little more time with you. Who the hell is this guy? Tell me his name, I am gonna kill him.” he said with anger, the overprotectiveness radiating in his voice. 
Charlie just stood there and watched you as you lied through your teeth.
“Dean, I… forget it. Just calm down okay?” you requested of him. “Calm down? Some douche knocked up my little sister and you're telling me that I shouldn't be angry?” He asked rhetorically.
“First, I'm gonna go kill this guy and then you're getting rid of this thing,” he said, not taking no for an answer. “What? No, I'm not getting rid of this baby!” you shot back. 
“Yes you are,” he ordered. “No I'm not, it's not your baby and that's not your choice to make, Dean. I'm old enough to make my own decisions in case you forgot,” you said angrily, challenging his command. 
“Okay, how are you going to raise it? And whom will you show as the kid's father?” he asked you. “I'll figure out a way. And I guess I was naive to  think that the kid's uncles would be enough to fill that role, to fill that ro. So, thanks a lot Dean for telling me that not even the uncles are going to be around,” you said and went into your room and slammed the door behind you. 
You heard a few loud knocks on the door. “Y/N, kiddo, open the door,” he demanded. When you didn’t reply, he continued, “Look, I'm sorry, okay? But how else do you expect me to react to it? After finding out that some douchebag got to my little princess and ruined her life. Just... tell me his name, okay? He will be dead before he knows it, then I promise, I'll be there for the whole thing,” he promised. 
You slowly opened the door and fell into his arms. He hugged you comfortingly and kissed the top of your head. “Let's go home, you and me. We'll talk this through, okay. We also need to tell Sammy that he's going to be an uncle,” he suggested and you nodded your head in response. 
You hugged Charlie goodbye and thanked her for everything before you left with Dean to the junkyard. “One more big brother to go,” you said letting out a sigh and went into the house. 
Dean told Sam and Bobby about the situation. “What? What kind of guy would do that? When are we killing him?” Sam asked Dean. Your eyes widened “What? Why?” you asked them. “Because of what he did to you; do you think he can hurt you and then just live with that?” Bobby stated. 
“Bobby you too?” you asked him, exasperated with the three men. 
“Yeah,” he replied. 
“Okay, stop it. Just stop it.” You huffed, “I've lied to you Dean, the father of my baby is not some random one night stand from the bar,” you began as you got ready to tell them the truth. He stared at you in confusion.
“It's…. It's..” you let out a deep, shaky breath. “It's Jensen,” you finally admitted the truth, looking at each of them. 
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**A/N : if your url is crossed then it means tmblr wouldn't let me tag you for some reason
Team Forever : @valsworldofcreativity @akshi8278 @hobby27 @spngi
Team free will : @flamencodiva @stoneyggirl @flashxspn @pink-sparkly-witch @wonderfulworldofwinchester @thoughts-and-funnies @kickingitwithkirk @msmarvelouswinchester @vicmc624 @mrswhozeewhatsis @adriennemichelle98 @malikjavaddzayn @donnaintx @squirrelnotsam  
Team flannel : @lyarr24 @deandreamernp @beabutterfly987
Series tag list : @phirephly09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @oneofthewinchestergirls67
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weaselle · a month ago
I like knowing the nature of a place.
I’m getting ready to move after a stint back in my childhood home, and I’m realizing that for me a big part of feeling at home is knowing the Nature of the place.
Here, I have a deep knowledge of the surrounding nature. I know the water, as the house water is all supplied from a well. I know the clayish soil, having pulled tree stumps out of it, grown gardens in it, dug trenches and set foundations in it, sat in it making little mud castles as a child. I’ve tasted it even.
I know the fat little squirrel that knows us also. I know the 3 mocking bird pairs who’s territories converge near here. Or did until recently, when a pair of california scrub jays moved in after a several year hiatus (we lost the willow tree and it became less desirable jay real estate) and now the mocking bird territories are in a state of disarray. I’m excited to see the scrub jays, those clever little corvid bastards, because it means we might actually get to eat some cherries this season. The mocking birds sort of tend to fight more over nesting sites, but the jays will see the cherries coming in and declare all three trees a no-fly zone for other birds -- and boy do they enforce it. Which means instead of every bird in the area eating some of our cherries before we can get any, we get what the two jays can’t eat, which usually works out to about half the crop.
I know the fire ants that patrol areas with water, harvesting the other insects that are drawn to it, the drowned bees, any injured insects, and so forth. I know where the yellow jackets tend to nest, and which plants the bumble bees prefer -- we keep a hedge of those flowers specifically for them because while honey bees are still numerous here (helped no doubt by the six bee boxes in the yard of the house across the field) the fat fuzzy bumble bees used to be a lot more numerous here than they are now. I know where the lizards hang out and what kind of spiders I’m likely to see, and if I wanted to find some salamander burrows on this block I know what to look for. And I know the local possum posse stopped using the north side fence as an autumn path once the walnut tree died, and now in fall they use the south side fence where the guava trees offer them a foraging opportunity. 
I know the raccoon clan. Well, I know of the raccoon clan. After years of jostling for territory with each other, we and the raccoons worked out some boundaries which, like, five or six generations later are just now starting to be contested.
We did things like get geese to protect our ducks from the raccoons and we stopped having outside cats with their outside food, so we turned into a less reward / more risk territory for them and tradition became sticking to the far edges of the yard. But now the waterfowl have been gone for years there’s no more dog and we’ve been dumping the parrot’s half eaten mix of nuts and seeds out there so that what he doesn’t like doesn’t go to waste. I don’t think my mother has caught on to how much that has been slowly changing the local biosphere.
It used to be her mother’s bird, and she has a lot of emotions about Joker (who still occasionally laughs grandma’s laugh or coughs her cough) which results in her offering him quite a banquet to pick from. So his leftovers are a significant resource she’s pouring into this little biome.
I think the raccoons are becoming interested (tracks right up to the edge of the house, three feet from where the bird seed sits). The pairs of birds more or less doubled, and it may be a big part of why the jays are back. The squirrel solved the problem of getting into the elevated dish recently, instead of just picking from what the birds scatter. Which is definitely why he’s so fat and glossy and I predict he’ll have to start fighting harder for this territory soon. The seed dish draws little birds in, but the hawks that would hunt at it like a watering hole have stayed away so far. Except for one newly adult hawk that studied the situation for a couple weeks from the old pine but couldn’t figure out how to exploit it when we responded by moving the bird seed pedestal to under the low hanging branches of a small tree. She finally got sick of the squirrel screaming at her to get out of his pine tree and left. Which is good news for the squirrel because silencing that delicious little alarm probably would have been step one for any intelligent hawk deciding to make this her hunting spot. Honestly imo tho this particular ecological niche would probably benefit from a hawk’s attention. 
We live under a hill, and I know which side of the hill the coyotes stick to, and which side the mountain lion prefers. And I can conjecture a few other mountain lion territories, centering on the smattering of hills off that direction, because it’s been generations of cougars up there and we spot a cub with whoever is currently Queen of This Hill every few years. Sadly, most of them don’t survive, based on both the statistics and the fact that while we catch glimpses of mom and small cubs semi-regularly, we’ve never once seen any in the close to one year old range, when they would be nearly adult sized but still accompanying their mother. Which doesn’t mean there have been none, but does imply that they are rare. And of course there are the years she’ll be spotted with two cubs for a while, but then only with one cub for a while after that.
They coyotes don’t come down unless times are tough or maybe if they are very bored and want to tease the dogs, but every now and then one does wander a couple blocks down our little street that dead-ends halfway up the hill, and slinks across the tree line that separates our front yard from the small field across our driveway. Years ago they used to come along more regularly, but there’s more people these days and the jackrabbits have pretty much disappeared, so now they mostly just come down the other side where the cow pasture is if the cows aren’t going up the hill soon enough for them during calving season. Pretty sure Queen Cougar goes over there whenever she feels like it and tries her luck at a calf now and then too.
I know the deer that come down and wander the neighborhood. They used to swing through our back yard until I engineered the fence between us and our neighbor to discourage them. The neighbors and my parents didn’t want the deer in their gardens but no matter how high they put the wire the deer were trying to go over it and damaging the top of the fencing which meant there was a chance they were injuring themselves. None of us want that. When it got brought to my attention one visit, I went and looked at it and solved it right away. Wood was too expensive, so they were just topping the existing fence with like 6 feet of wire grid. But the deer are coming through dusk/dawn and midnight, and they already have eyes that aren’t built for detail, and this is wire the thickness of a fat toothpick... so I went out to the bamboo patch and got some bamboo as thick as the butt of a pool stick and wove a line of it along the top of the wire. Light weight enough to not bend the wire, and something to smell, big enough to see. End of problem. One mamma deer has figured out how to get through from the other side, and she keeps a fawn in our neighbors yard almost every year.
Anyway, I just automatically tend to learn this sort of thing when I move into  a place, but I haven’t stayed anywhere long enough to get this level of knowledge about anywhere else, and being back here is making me realize how important it is to me. Observing and understanding my surrounding natural setting is, well, natural, and I won’t feel like my new place is home until I start to learn the biome there.
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shannendoherty-fans · a month ago
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People, November 15, 2004
As The Tide Turns
By Ericka Sóuter, Oliver Jones in Oahu. Photo by Mark Arbeit.
Ratings droopy? Need a vixen, stat? North Shore recruits Shannen Doherty–who says she's now "mellow".
It's 8 p.m., Shannen Doherty is in her Honolulu hotel, and the phone rings. It's a surfer pal with an invitation for the evening. "It's going to be a killer party on the North Shore," she promises.
And Doherty, the 33-year-old twice-divorced TV veteran and tabloid hell-cat, says..., uh, no, thanks. "I wasn't tempted," she insists. "Not even a pinch." Instead, she orders Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story on pay-per-view and jumps under the covers.
What exactly is going on here? Doherty, of course, has long been known for two things: nightime dramas (Beverly Hills 90210, Charmed) and a dramatic nightlife. Now she's taking another stab at the former, joining FOX's island-based soap North Shore as the troublemaking half sister of the show's goody-two-sandals (Brooke Burns). Off-camera, however, Doherty swears on the soul of Jason Priestley that what might be called The Shannen Doherty Show –the decade of headline-grabbing behavior that kept her steadily in the gossip columns– is on hiatus and may be –gasp!– gone forever. "I really have mellowed out," she says. "The pace has definitely slowed down in my life, which is good."
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["At FOX, maybe I can find a home again," says Doherty (on 90210 with Luke Perry).]
Granted, it would have been a very hard pace to keep up. Some highlights: She impulsively married Ashley Hamilton, son of tanmaster George, in 1993, only to divorce seven months later, and in 2002 she married Rick Salomon – yes, the guy who taped and costarred in that notorious Paris Hilton video – a union that lasted nine months. Famously temperamental, Doherty was fired from 90210 producer Aaron Spelling, who rehired her for Charmed, where she clashed with costar Alyssa Milano. Reportedly, Doherty tried to run down ex-fiancé Dean Factor with her car, later telling Movieline she intended no harm: "Look, I have good aim. If I really wanted to run him over, I wouldn't have missed." And just last February she got into anasty tiff in South Beach with Tara Reid.
All in the past, Doherty says now. "When I was younger, when I was getting married for the first time, I wasn't on the best behavior," she admits. "I had married the wrong person, and it wasn't working out. It was an incredibly destructive relationship, and [Hamilton] was a drug addict and I didn't know towards the end, when I left him." The stories in the press, she says, hurt: "It was like all the kindness in the world seemed to have left."
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[Doherty (with Jason Momoa) and her North Shore costars "get along famously," says producer Bert Salke.]
Doherty doesn't apologize for her past but says she has changed. "After a while you get so sick of going out, seeing the same people, doing the same thing," she says. "I have done all that, and it's not much fun anymore." As for men, "I know now that I won't run off and get married after two weeks–men are still on their best behavior at that point." Lately she has been dating Manhattan-based hotelier Jason Pomeranc, 33. "My taste has definitely improved, and I definitely won't be repeating the same personality types," says Doherty. That said, she adds, "I'm human. I still have the right to marry the wrong guys."
Regarding her newfound peace of mind, location probably helps. "How could anyone feel down here?" asks Doherty, who's living in Hawaii while North Shore tapes. She has taken up surfing and says she's often up at dawn for the cleanest and least crowded waves. "Whenever I get stressed, I go jump in the ocean. It purifies and cleanses me. It really does change you. It's like everything melts away." Out of the water, "if I encounter people with a bad attitude or bad energy, I don't let it seep into my own," says Doherty. "I know I sound like such a freak right now talking about all this energy stuff, but it's so true. You get back what you put in."
"I live by the beach, and my life is all about my dogs, my horses and my friends," says Doherty (in Oahu). "It forces you to look at the brighter side of things".
The North Shore casting would seem to provide an excellent opportunity to test her new resolve. In 2001 Doherty had a brief romance with her Charmed costar Julian McMahon–who at the time was married to, but said to be estranged from, Brooke Burns– who now costars with Doherty on North Shore. Doherty adamantly denies that she had anything to do with the couple's marital problems. "I come from a strong, moral Southern Baptist family," says Doherty, a Memphis native and–a rarity in young Hollywood–a diehard Republican. "For anybody to say that I could be a home wrecker is hurtful." The triangle, says Doherty, has not caused any bad blood on the Honolulu set. She and Burns "laugh together," she says. "She gave me tips on how not to show sweat stains when I'm shooting an outdoor scene wearing silk. Our relationship has been fine despite what people have tried to make it out to be. There have been no catfights."
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That said, she know it will be hard to change the way some people think about her. So she tries to stick to her mother's advice. "My mom always says, 'One person at a time, Shannen.' So I always have that in my head. And you know what?" she asks. "When people meet me, they know who I am."
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fanficfreek · a month ago
Your Eyes Tell | JJK | 58
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Work began, and thus an all-new phase of learning. The first week breezed by and before she knew it, YoonGi had texted her to go to dinner to celebrate and she immediately accepted. He must have been in a good mood to volunteer to drive and pick her up. She had no choice to accept based on that criteria alone.
As she stepped outside and onto the busy street across from the hospital pavilion, she received a snap from JungKook reminding her that tomorrow was ‘Silver Day’ and that he had big plans. She grinned as she replied to him while someone yelled her name.
“Min Eunji!”
She was startled to hear her birth name as she looked toward the group of young girls standing in line for bulgogi.
“It is her!”
“She looks just like SUGA!”
They waved at her as she frowned in confusion.
“Can I have a photo with you?!” one ran up to her.
“What?” her eyes widened as she saw others walking toward her.
“You are BTS SUGA’s sister?”
She froze as his car pulled up to the curb.
“Is that YoonGi’s car?!”
“YoonGi!” the girls began screaming as she jumped inside and locked the door.
“Shit,” he sighed while pulling away. “What was that?”
“They called my name and asked if I was your sister. Then, they saw you.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
He pursed his lips before nodding. “Deep breaths.”
She nodded her head quietly.
“I’ll post something and remind ARMY that siblings aren’t celebrities.”
“That’s it?”
“It usually works.”
She picked at her fingers as she chewed on the inside of her lip.
He glanced at her before changing the subject. “How was your first week of work?”
“Slow. I finally get to meet my patients tomorrow morning.”
“This was your only day off this week?”
“Ah. Now I feel bad for not inviting JungKook-ah…”
“We have a date tomorrow night when I get off work. It’s fine. Plus, we video chat every day.”
“I know,” he sighed.
She smiled as she watched him drive. “Have you decided what you’re going to do on hiatus?”
“My maknae has a big mouth.”
“He’s a planner.”
He cleared his throat and nodded his head. “I’m finishing my mix tape.”
“So you’re working?”
“Well… I mean… not like normal work. I’ll work when I have ideas. I told Jin-hyung I’d go fishing with him.”
“So fishing and kicking out sick beats. That’s your vacation?”
“Yes. And a family trip to Daegu to introduce you to the rest of the family.”
“Oh,” she turned to look out the window. “You might want to consult your maknae on planning tips and invitation strategies.”
He burst into a bright smile. “It’s easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”
She rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “You’ve got me there.”
Both were quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “You know… our parents have been having dreams since you moved into your apartment.”
“There have been so many that they went to have an interpretation.”
She raised her eyebrows and waited to see where this was going.
“Okay, so… Appa thinks that you and Goo-ah are getting married. He keeps dreaming about the two of you farming rice.”
She let go of the breath she was holding and burst into a bright smile. “Farming rice? That’s… okay. Rice.”
“And Eomma,” he cleared his throat. “Eomma keeps seeing you with goldfish.”
“Goldfish?” she spoke slowly.
“Tiny little goldfish. You tend to them while eating peaches.”
“I am so confused,” she sighed as she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.
“It means you’re going to have a baby. A girl.”
“How far into the future might this be?”
“Usually… not long. I mean… what’s the point about having prophetic dreams if it doesn’t happen for a year or two?”
“Or five?” she raised her eyebrows. “Have they ever had these kinds of dreams about you?”
“Usually pigs and dragons…”
“And that means?”
“Success, wealth, big money…”
“And because those were correct, they think I’m definitely going to get pregnant?”
He nodded his head silently.
She rolled her eyes around before sitting back into the seat. “He went to a fortune teller after our first date.”
YoonGi waited for her to continue.
“We are entering a new phase in our lives, a new relationship or marriage.”
“The new relationship was spot on.”
“Yeah. And we’re to expect the unexpected.”
“Ah,” he sighed.
“Do you believe in this stuff?”
“I want to say I don’t, but Eomma’s always right. I mean… always.”
“I can’t imagine…” she shook her head. “I don’t see how it’s possible unless something crazy happens and I stop taking the pill. I learned a long time ago to never say ‘never’ though…”
“I mean… I wouldn’t mind being an uncle. I’m sure Jimin and TaeHyung would spoil her rotten too…”
“I don’t doubt that one bit, but we’ve been dating for five months. Chill, broski,” she hissed in English.
He laughed at her. “This is South Korea, arranged marriages have been planned and executed in the time you’ve been dating.”
“Someone kidnapped you and replaced you with a clone, didn’t they? My brother hates the thought of his maknae touching me, let alone making babies.”
He scrunched his nose. “You had to go there.”
“Welcome back!”
“Aish,” he sighed. “Okay, now I’m overthinking the steps involved in keeping that secret.”
“Just stop,” she laughed. “I have enough on my plate right now without an imaginary child stressing me out. Thanks for the heads-up, though. I look forward to Eomma checking my pant size every time I see her.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Good luck.”
◀︎· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·▷
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hotgirlhockey · a month ago
I'm with you | Joel Farabee
A/n: I started writing this piece during my hiatus and it became very self-indulgent, so I'm sorry if this may seem kinda specific. And this just happened to be posted during Mental Health Awareness Month and there's a message behind this piece, I hope it reaches y'all and somehow makes you think that things aren't over <3. Here are some mental health resources: anxiety and panic masterpost, resources to Black trans people and Jewish people, mental health masterpost (dealing w mental health while studying, burnout, eating disorders, etc), mental health website and numbers to reach. As usual, a huge shout out to @sebs-aston for proofreading this so fast <3 I would be nothing without your support, Liv!! *mwah*
Requested: Kinda
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: mention of depression crisis (not eating nor sleeping properly too!)
Pairing: Joel Farabee x fem!reader
Summary: life has its ups and downs but the y/n's downs are really low, good thing Joel is there to take care of her and navigate through this sea of hurt and confusion.
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The room was dark, the only source of luminosity being the open curtains letting the city lights shine inside, the air was cold and the silence enveloped everything until he stepped inside. You heard when he opened the front door and the thud of his shoes because he always took it off so messily, sometimes not even caring about how it would land, and whenever you pointed it out he would tell you that he’d check it after taking a shower, because according to Joel he needed “to feel at home again” and somehow leaving everything scattered would remind him that he was, in fact, home.
When the bedroom door opened, you experienced the mixing rush of the cold air from inside with his strong cologne and his warm presence. You could hear his bare feet walking around the room, and his bag dropping by the door, the open of the closet, you heard everything, and it drew a small response from your body, which was a lot considering you were laying there forever without bothering to move too much. Your mind was foggy and, although it felt like only a few minutes went by, you knew it was more considering some of the lights outside went off.
The bed dipped beside you and his warm hands found their way inside the comforter. You blinked lazily and threaded your fingers with his.
“Hey you,” he whispered because he knew talking too loud would disrupt you.
It was only the second time that he was experiencing one of your crises and you were still insecure about his reactions or how it would affect your relationship. It wasn’t an everyday thing, but they happened eventually, sometimes you would go months without feeling the sadness creeping into your body, other times, you would feel it so strongly it would hang around for more than a week.
This was the first time it happened while he was away though, and you tried to tell yourself that Joel didn’t notice it by the way you answered your phone (or the way you didn’t), nor by the way your voice sounded muffled every time he called you expecting hours of conversation, but only getting brief minutes. Your boyfriend, in contrast, was good at reading and observing you, so he was fast to realize something was going on and even faster to recognize it as one of your crises, so he made sure to be quiet when he arrived at your shared condo. He got everything ready for a hot shower, and he cooked the fastest thing he could think of because he knew you probably forgot to eat too, and only then he reached for you.
When his lips found your temple to give a light kiss, you reached for his hair and threaded your fingers through it. You felt him smile against your skin, “I just got the shower ready for us, let’s clean up, you stinky?”
“I’m not stinky!” you protested, before feeling his smile getting bigger. He’s probably glad he got a reaction other than a simple dismissive movement from you.
Joel dipped his head lower and dragged it to your hair and neck before mumbling, “you’re not stinky, but we sure could use a shower, I can’t smell that strawberry shampoo of yours.”
He pushed up from the bed extending his open hand to you. With a sigh and trying to gather a bit of energy, you hold onto him and get up, letting him lead both of you to the bathroom. You watched attentively as he undressed you before doing the same, the clothes are long forgotten on the ground as you step out of it and inside the stall. Joel washed your hair while humming to one of the random slow songs he usually listens to while doing domestic tasks; he started to listen to this particular melody after you told him the lyrics would always give you a rush of serotonin considering how deep and meaningful it is.
You enjoyed the feeling of the warm water running through your body while his long and slender fingers massaged your scalp. It felt like a reminder that you have a body and that you’re alive indeed, and that life consists of more than your confused thoughts and crisis. Life is being able to experience the small things and feel warm about it, and right now you felt warm inside and out. While he washed your hair, you took your time running the foam over his chest and on every piece of skin you could reach. There’s a small smile on the corner of his lips, and before you could think too much, your body is pressed close to his and you are on your tiptoes. He bent his head down a bit when he noticed what you were trying to do.
It’s warmer than the water falling from the shower, and his lips were soft and sweet, and you enjoyed the feeling it sent through your whole body. You felt everything: from the hardness of his chest to the way he held you a little longer - his touch lingered on your back and his fingers brushed your cheek. You felt his love and the way he cared about you and this was enough to shed some tears from your eyes, which Joel kissed away before they reached your chin. He could see them even with your face already wet - he was this attentive and you were grateful for finding a love like his.
“Why is everything so confusing?” you whispered lazily while you dragged your nails on his shoulders, just as he liked to be touched, and before Joel could answer your question you added: “Maybe I’m just out of my mind…” His hands reached for your jawline to guide your eyes to his, “Babe, you’re not out of your mind. You’re just sad and you’re going through a lot right now, but please remember…” “it’s a sad moment, not a sad life” you two repeated together and he kissed your forehead.
“Now let’s get you out of this shower before we get sick,” his lips found yours for a quick peck and you smiled, watching as he turned off the shower and grabbed a towel before draping it around your shoulders.
After you changed into his clothes (one of his low rise trunks and a hoodie) and wrapped a towel in your hair, you laid face down on the bed.
“y/n, let’s eat something,” Joel said and you mumbled a response, face still on the pillows, before his body was beside yours. He brushed his hands under your hoodie, bringing your body on top of his and you pressed your face on his neck.
“What did you say?”
“I said, I’m not hungry” you repeated.
“I made pasta…”
“With tomato sauce…?”
“And mayo,” he added.
“I may eat a little, but I’m really not hungry, Bee,” you whined.
His lips found your cheek, not to kiss them, but to bite and you squeal in surprise, “Can I have extra cheese?” you asked, hands now on his hair and he nodded in agreement.
“You know you can have whatever you want,” there’s a second until his lips found yours, and then he added, “always.”
“Well, then I wanna spend the whole day in bed and I don’t want to eat anything,” you demanded and he laughed.
“Smartass, c’mon, you gotta get up and eat,” he started to get up, but you grumbled an answer and clung closer to him. His body shook up with another laughter before he got up holding you close and walked to the kitchen.
After arguing about how much you were going to eat and drinking half of your orange juice, Joel convinced you to wash the dishes together “so the body can digest the food” and while you wanted to lay down and hide behind the blankets, you enjoy his company and your stomach could definitely use some time to process the amount of food you ingested.
After everything was cleaned and your body felt a bit lighter, you two lay on the couch cuddling in the darkroom.
“I was thinking about creating a playlist for these moments,” he began after minutes of comfortable silence.
“I already have one,” you giggled.
“But it's just yours, not ours, and it has too many sad songs, we need some serotonin boost,”
“You’re not adding rap to my playlist!” you sat straight and facing him with a frown as he chuckled.
“That’s why we’re creating a new one together,” he stated as if it is obvious. “Besides, I’m not against sad songs, I just feel like we could use some happy ones too…”
“So songs to nap to?”
“And make out,” he wiggled his brows and you giggled again before laying on his side.
“I hate you, you know?”
“Nah, you love me.”
And he’s completely right. You love him so much it kind of makes you want to randomly smile and giggle even when your whole body is telling your life sucks, but if there’s one thing you’ve been learning is that it sucks less when he’s around.
“Do you have practice tomorrow?” you whispered after drifting off and waking up, his hands still caressing your body. The moment you two had together felt so holy and intimate, you wish you could keep it forever.
“Actually, I don’t and I’m planning on having breakfast at that small cafe so we can soak up some sun and enjoy the morning together,” his fingers absently gripping your waist have you almost sleeping. You considered his suggestion, but before you could answer he added:
“I know you’re thinking that you may wake up sad tomorrow, but remember to live today first. You’ll only know how you’re gonna feel tomorrow when that day comes, and until then you shouldn’t stop making plans, you get what I’m saying? So what about this: our deal is the cafe in the morning, but in case you feel really bad tomorrow we can always reschedule, sleep in and then eat in the living room. I’ll make sure to order or cook, whatever you feel like doing.”
“Thank you,” that’s the only response your mind managed to come up with while your eyes got heavy with tears. Joel was so understanding, and having someone to take care of you on this level wasn’t something you ever considered would happen, especially not after starting the ‘adult life’, but here you were going through everything again, only this time you were accepting the help, and you were actually starting to worry about each day at their time.
And although your depression would take away part of your energy and make you lie in bed all day, Joel would come up with one of his plans, he would cook for you, and shower with you, and make sure you were ready to try again and again and again until you could leave the bed by yourself, until he would be able to boost you with energy using just a message while on the road. It’s a sad moment, not a sad life, you repeated to yourself before smiling.
“Will you be here when I wake up?” you whispered threading your fingers with his.
“I’m with you always, y/n.”
And your heart fluttered, it’s definitely just a sad moment, not a sad life. No way is a sad life when you have him around.
taglist: @iwantahockeyhimbo @sorryjustafangirl @glassdanse @barzysreputation @stuetzlesbitch @gotpucks @extratragic
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melancholy-pal · a month ago
Want to know what is wrong with me and if I can fix it.
I don't know if this is the correct subreddit to ask or not, I can delete if it's not.
I was never in therapy, it's frowned upon where I come from and now that I no longer live there it's hard to find and I'm too anxious to take the first step. I just want to know what is exactly wrong with me and if I can ever fix it or be normal. This will be long amd unorganised, if anyone is reading I'm sorry. I added a TL;DR at the end.
Background: I'm a woman, 25 years old, I came from an emotionally and physically abusive home. Both my parents and the culture I grew up in was very sexist, to the point that women aren't allowed to live alone or study certain things. I wasn't in a good school because my family didn't want to waste money on educating women since women are meant to be housewives, brothers went to private school. Because I'm a woman I was denied to study what I wanted and forced into something more "womanly".
I spent most my time indoors, I didn't talk to anyone outside my family and classmates in school, barely interacted with men except cashiers and supervisors when I got a job as an adult.
I was sexually harassed since I was 8 and had to hide it because I was going to be blamed. I was neglected, locked up in my room for the whole day when men are visiting my father, mother didn't feed us when my father wasn't eating at home (she only cooks for him). I was a good student, 1st in my class always, but my mother kept calling me a failure, mocked how I look, my skin tone, hair texture, she used to say if I die tell people you killed me, she screams insults I didn't even understand at me, she used to tell my school driver (her cousin) to threaten me in front of the school to discipline me (he used to force me to stand in the middle of the road and speeds up like he'll run me over in front of my classmates, he twists my arm, squeezes my hands really hard when I shake his hand). I used to look sick and scared in class because I am terrified of leaving and having him do things to me. He also used to come beat me at home because my mother tells him my father doesn't discipline me enough. I did nothing to deserve this, she just said I was a bad daughter and not as well behaved as other kids.
She did so many things to me that I can't remember all. I blacked a lot of it out. She was being abused by my father so I think that's why. She always tried to guilt me and manipulate me, she uses to force me to buy her gifts when I grew up and had some money (she shames me for being cheap and a bad daughter in front of the seller when we're shopping). She's still this way until now. She always fakes being sick and weak to get attention from my father and brothers. And when I ran away she kept sending me that I'm ungrateful and that she wasted her time raising me until I blocked her and cut contact forever.
I self taught myself English and was naively planning to study abroad, but my father said he'll bury me alive if I ever mentioned it again so I had to give up on my dream and study something I don't like in my city even though I was accepted for a scholarship. I gave up on everything back then and barely paid attention to class, I was going to kill myself I saw no way out of it. I won't go in details, but they were going to force me to get married so I ran away from home after planning for years with the help of a foreign man I met online who is currently my boyfriend.
The problem now is that It's been almost 2 years and my mental health is still not okay. I am still depressed, and I seem to have developed very bad anxiety. I still have dreams about my family, I keep dreaming that I am planning my escape and I get caught and I wake up freaked out and I can't go back to sleep. I dream that I'm back in my room and not allowed to go out, I dream of my mother telling me that she'll die and it's my fault because I'm a horrible daughter, I dream of my brothers hurting my sisters... The pandemic made it worse because I rarely go out anymore and school is on hiatus. I'm too anxious to go buy groceries, too anxious to make a doctor appointment, I just want to hide.
I also have a lot of bitterness and envy of women who didn't grow up the way I did, women here actually love their parents and aren't scared of men, women younger than me are more successful because nobody stood in the way of their education. I feel like I wasted my life and potential. And the pandemic is making me waste more time.
I have social problems, I can talk to people and they like me but I am so terrified of people actually wanting to befriend me or get involved in my life. If someone shows interest in being my friend I have nightmares about it. Even as a child, I alienated every friend. I don't know how to explain it, nobody seems to understand that I really do not want friends, if I say it they get offended. My boyfriend thinks it's unhealthy and weird but I am more comfortable alone with my thoughts. He is the only person I'm comfortable sharing my thoughts with and letting him get involved in my life. We do not live together at the moment but he visits me often, and we're planning to move together when we can. So I am alone most of the time and I sometimes go days without talking out loud.
I am emotionally unstable, paranoid, scared, I overanalyse everything that happens to me and the biggest victim of this is my boyfriend who has been patient and says he loves me no matter what. I got too attached to him and I can't imagine being without him, but sometimes I purposely push him away and act mean. I overanalyse his behaviour and accuse him of cheating, I don't like him being friends with other women, I keep trying to break up with him and it hurts him and he fights for me. (I stop talking to him, I call him names, I say horrible things like I should've died before we met, accuse him of being with me only for sex... ) I don't really understand why I act so crazy, I want to know what is my problem or what is this called so that I fix it. I am not always this bad, I am usually sweet and loving and supportive and I think that's my real personality, but sometimes I just get overwhelmed and want to self sabotage. I even try to subtly hurt myself by not eating or taking too much medicine. Last week I took pain killers and a lot of alcohol hoping to hurt myself (it was my first time having vodka and I got very sick). The shift in my mood happens suddenly, I'm either sweet and loving or a dramatic evil person who can't stop crying and making problems. I feel like I'm acting like my mother sometimes and I hate myself for it.
What is wrong with me and do you think I can ever be normal? Am I too damaged?
TL;DR: I had an emotionally and physically abusive childhood and young adulthood that deeply messed me up. Ran away and started over and now I am suffering from multiple mental health issues including dramatic personality shifts that makes me sometimes act toxic to the only person who cares about me. What is this condition called and how to fix it?
submitted by /u/Lunakittycat9 [link] [comments] from Mental Health
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larkspyrr · a month ago
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chapter vi — show me a garden that's bursting into life — (wc. 4.1k)
prev — masterlist — next
"— unprecedented rains continue to shock all of Japan as the —"
Suneater sighed from his place on the couch. You echoed his sentiment from the opposite end. The nameless mint plant, were she able, would have expressed similar feelings, you were sure. The rain continued to fall outside. You changed the channel.
Suneater sighed again.
A week had passed since Suneater had initially woken up, and during that time, there had been little change in the state of the world outside your undersized apartment. You were grateful that he was able to move around on his own now (the first morning he walked out into the living room, as shaky on his legs as a newborn fawn, you'd nearly had a heart attack and dropped the coffee you had just finished brewing) and things had gotten easier in the days since. His regained independence was definitely something that brought you no small amount of anxiety and paranoia, but if it meant that you no longer had to deal with the astronomical levels of secondhand humiliation you felt from Suneater turning that familiar, vibrant shade red whenever he needed to ask you to help him across the hall to the bathroom, you could deal with it. His embarrassment was just about as ubiquitous as it was contagious.
Now that he was back on his feet, Suneater felt more like a weird roommate than a responsibility — a weird roommate who had been put on a strict vegan diet that he resented (by you), was a trained professional hero on an unwanted hiatus that had been forced upon him (by you), was still recovering from a multitude of injuries sustained in a recent villain incident (orchestrated, yes, by you), presented the very real possibility of turning you over to the police or the commission at any given moment, and also probably hated your guts (frankly, you couldn't blame him).
You decided, in light of all the aforementioned misfortunates bestowed upon the hero (by you), the least you could do was allow him to continue commandeering the singular bedroom, and he didn't seem to have any inclination to put a stop to this arrangement. Sleeping on the futon every night certainly wasn't ideal, but you had gradually begun adjusting. Your bed wasn't much of an improvement, anyway, so you took comfort in the fact that Suneater was probably suffering from the same back pain that currently plagued you. Plus, when you were sleeping in the living room, you were able to make sure he wasn't sneaking out at night — not that it seemed like he had much interest in leaving in the first place.
The two of you had reached some unspoken, begrudging acceptance that, at least for the time being, the smartest course of action seemed to be to wait out the continuing avalanche of news reporting about Suneater and the Billboard event — in hiding, together. You were, as always, trying your best to remain under the radar, but Suneater was actively being pursued by authorities across all of Japan, so the tiny shithole in Osaka you called your own was as good a place as any for him to hide out, even it meant an undesirable amount of reluctant proximity to you. The fact that you also had cursory knowledge of first aid and happened to be the only soul in Japan that believed in his innocence (even if it was because you were the one who stuffed him into a villain-shaped grenade launcher and fired him at the largest televised HPSC event of the year) only helped the matter.
You looked over at Suneater from your spot on the futon, analyzing his profile in the near-silent living room. You knew he was still wanted for the incident in Tokyo, but you were nonetheless still perplexed by his apparent reluctance to attempt to clear his name. Self-critical nature aside, he surely believed he had at least accumulated enough goodwill over the last several years to earn him the benefit of the doubt. Yet, he displayed not an ounce of interest in cashing it in.
You knew no movements from him was a good thing for you, but you couldn't help but feel rattled by the stalemate you'd found yourself idling in.
You huffed and rose from the couch, leaning back and stretching your arms high above your head until you felt the joints in your shoulders pop, and let out the longest, loudest, most obnoxious yawn you could summon.
Suneater turned a blank stare in your direction.
You offered him a sly grin, letting your arms fall back to your sides. You kept your eyes on his own. "Beautiful weather we're having, huh?" you drawled.
He blinked. No bite.
You sighed, prolonged and exaggerated. Annoying. "I'm bored," you moaned. "Can't we have a normal conversation for once? You know, like we used to?"
Finally, his dry expression melted into one of distaste. That was an improvement. "We don't really have much to talk about," he deadpanned.
Your lips pursed thoughtfully. "Have you thought of a name for the plant?"
"You disappoint me," you remarked good-naturedly. "Are you always this disappointing?"
"God. Lighten up," you scolded, turning on your heel and leaving Suneater to sulk on the futon. The rain kicked up beyond the glass, howling outside the window loudly enough to drown out the noise of your footsteps. Suneater's scowl disappeared behind the wall as you padded barefoot onto the grimy tile of the kitchen, flinging open the refrigerator with so much force that the scant condiments seated in the door all clattered against one another in complaint. The automatic light flickered on inside, unenthusiastically performing its solitary task as though it were threatening to quit once and for all. Not even your damned appliances wanted to be stuck in the apartment any longer.
"It's hard to 'lighten up' when you're on the run and stuck with the person who framed you," he grumbled, his voice barely carrying over the clamor from outside.
You shot the wall blocking his face from view a dirty look. "Technically, you weren't framed," you said, choosing to ignore how petulant the words sounded.
"Instigator," he muttered.
You frowned, but chose to ignore the comment. "Thoughts on dinner?" you called over your shoulder, head buried in the fridge, looking over the scant contents. "I'm running out of ideas and I'm sick of veggie stir fry."
Suneater groaned softly, the sound long and pained, profoundly dramatic. You rolled your eyes, but the only audience to your exasperation was the dairy-free milk on the top shelf. "I'm sick of veggies, period."
You snorted, shoving aside a bag of thawed broccoli florets, revealing... more broccoli. "Well, veggies are all you're getting, ponyboy."
He was quiet for a moment, but you could visualize the look of offense on his face as you wickedly chose yet another quirk-based nickname for him — something you knew he hated, so you did on purpose, and often, with the intent of getting a rise out of him. You had to get your entertainment somehow.
"I don't eat horse," he protested.
"Sure you don't," you said with a dark snicker. He was always more fun to be around when he was annoyed; it was better than the soulless mannequin he became when left to stew in his thoughts for too long. "I saw that video of you doing that centaur shit at the foundry."
"That was bull," Suneater told you, and even though you couldn't see him, you knew the exact expression he was wearing. "Not horse."
"Whatever, same thing," you said dismissively, smirk hidden in your fridge.
"It, literally, is not."
You snorted, leaning far enough out of the fridge to peer around the corner of the kitchen and into the living room. Suneater was, as expected, pouting on the couch. You sniggered as his eyes caught your own and he huffed, looking away, arms folded defiantly in front of his chest. "You've got an attitude today, hero."
He let out a resentful noise but said nothing else.
You sighed, straightening up. "Look, I hate eating this crap every day as much as you do, but I can't risk —"
"Risk what?" he interjected, flinging one irritated hand into the air next to his head, a gesture to the roiling storm. "I'm not going anywhere. I would have tried by now if I wanted to or thought it would be worth it. It isn't really like I have anywhere else to go. Thanks for that, by the way," he added, an uncharacteristic note of sarcasm in his voice.
"Be that as it may," you said, casting him a sidelong glance, letting the fridge fall shut and opening the cupboard beside it. Just about nothing in there, either. "The last thing I want to do is hand you a loaded gun. If that means we're doing stir fry again, then so be it." You thought for a moment. "I'll add a different sauce or something this time..."
"Don't you think I've proven that I'm not trying to cause you trouble?" he wheedled, getting up off the couch and walking towards the kitchen, a slight limp still in his gait. "Even when you leave to shop or steal or do whatever it is you do when you leave, I haven't done anything."
"Seems like it, sure," you agreed, letting the cupboard fall shut as well and facing Suneater, who had made it to the archway where the carpet met the tile and was leaning heavily against the peeling frame. His expression was earnest, even hopeful, and it almost made you want to believe his words — but even if you believed he was telling the truth, you couldn't afford to let down your guard. "But you can't prove it."
"What about if I can prove it, then?" he challenged, a determined set in his jaw. "That it wouldn't make a difference."
You laughed, a bright sound that bounced off the blank, colorless walls of the room around you. "You can't."
You didn't like the look on his face at all as he said, "And what if I could?"
"You couldn't. Alright, end of discussion," you called dismissively, letting out a last chuckle. You sidestepped Suneater to make your way back to the futon. "We'll just make another stir holyshitwhatthefuck —"
You let out a mortifying squeal as you felt something distinctly inhuman scoop you up from beneath your arms and rotate you back towards the kitchen so that you were, once again, face-to-face with Suneater's unimpressed glower. You kicked your feet weakly, but made no contact with the ground or any of the surrounding furniture, dangling there helplessly like a kitten before giving up the brief struggle.
"See?" Suneater said, self-satisfied. "This is from breakfast," he explained. "I could have used parsley to cause trouble if I really wanted to, so please. Please can we just have some actual food for once?"
You sagged in his grip, unhappy. You took a look around you to confirm his words — a long, thin plant that did, in fact, resemble the aforementioned herb, albeit greatly scaled-up in size, held you up underneath your armpits and wound chaotically through the air between you until it disappeared somewhere underneath Suneater's black long sleeve. He stood watching, making the entire endeavor look utterly effortless and adding to your shame.
"Please?" he asked again, shoulders slumping weakly.
You sighed, helplessly kicking your right foot once more for good measure and to retain a little of your dignity. You realized too late that it probably had the opposite effect. You scowled at no one in particular. "Fine," you relented. "Put me down."
Gently, he placed you back on your feet. You noticed belatedly that he had intentionally avoided grabbing you by your injured ribs — you chalked this up to his nature as a hero, and not to any hidden consideration he had for you, specifically. The moment the leafy little vines released you, you made a show of shuddering and straightening out your clothes, sending a glare over his way that you hoped communicated the depths of your displeasure. He looked mildly uncomfortable — so, his normal. You glared harder. Finally, he had the good grace to look at least a little sheepish.
You grunted, placated. "I'm only doing this because I want some good food, too, just so you know."
"That's fine," he told you.
"You better not make me regret this," you warned.
"I won't," he assured.
You scanned him, warily noting the utter lack of vines protruding from his V-neck and feeling more than a little uncomfortable (and maybe a little foolish) that that had been an option for him all along and you hadn't even known it. You thought you had found a way to neutralize his quirk, keeping him — and by association and convenience, you — on a strict diet of only non-animal products. You'd never seen nor heard of him utilizing plants in the field, so it hadn't even occurred to you that it was even a possibility for him. You had been eating leaves and beans for over a week, and for what?
Well. You live and you learn.
"I'll be back, then," you told him gruffly, marching off to the entry and slipping on your shoes. "I'm going to the store. I'm hungry as hell."
You heard his uneven steps as he came up beside you. "You're leaving now?" he asked hesitantly. "It's raining."
You angled a long, meaningful look at the drowned balcony and then slid it back to meet Suneater's own gaze.
"Right," he said uncomfortably, wincing. "Yeah. Sure. It's, uh, probably not gonna stop anytime soon."
You hummed. "If I wait for the rain to stop, we'll starve in this dump," you said, grabbing your umbrella and hefting open the door. "I'll be back."
"Bye," you heard as the door clicked shut behind you.
A minute later, you found yourself standing in the grim entryway of your building, umbrella half opened, staring out into a nearly opaque sheet of rain without a plan. You knew Suneater wasn't a picky eater — you'd seen the man put away an assortment of every kind of greasy street food there was in Osaka — but you found your thoughts drifting back to a ritual you hadn't done in over a week, and somehow, managed to feel nostalgic for: walking through the overcast market, Suneater by your side, takoyaki in hand.
Your stomach grumbled loudly in assent. Takoyaki it is.
Unfurling your umbrella and bracing it against the rain, you made your way out into the storm. The nearest takoyaki stand wasn't far from here, but you would have bet the little money that you had that it wouldn't be open in this weather. The merchant surely had more survival instinct than you, and would have locked up hours, if not days ago, when the rain began picking up in earnest.
You went in the opposite direction, hustling towards the small grocery a few blocks west from your apartment building. If you couldn't buy it premade, you weren't such a coward as to bow out of the challenge of making it yourself, disgraceful culinary ability be damned. You hurried through the rain, umbrella tight over your head, keeping your arms pulled in as close to your body as you could in a miserable plea to stay warm in the freezing wet.
At the store, you picked up all the ingredients you imagined were in takoyaki — boiled octopus, for starters. Pickled ginger, you thought, as well. Dried bonito flakes. Green onions. You picked up the ingredients you would need for the batter — you didn't keep much in the way of baking goods in your home, so you selected flour, baking soda, eggs, and the rest of the basics you thought you might need. How hard could it be? Nonetheless, you were infinitely grateful that you were able to find a premade takoyaki sauce so you wouldn't have to venture a likely horrifically inaccurate guess at how to craft it yourself.
Finally, in the name of authenticity, you picked up a cheap, little takoyaki pan — a circular contraption with a handle and seven little round indents; six around, one in the center. You could use it over the gas stove. It was as good as it was going to get, and infinitely better than what you might have managed with the muffin tin you thought — but definitely were not sure — you had in the pull-out drawer beneath your oven.
You stood in the checkout line with a world-weary sigh (three bags of groceries and almost no other shoppers in the nearly abandoned store meant it would have been tough to leave in your customary manner — unnoticed, stolen goods in-hand), and quickly paid for your goods. Holding your bags close protectively, you stepped back out of the sliding glass doors of the store and into the crushing torrent.
You were not two steps down the street before your umbrella bent under the force of the wind, was pried out of your hands, and sent hurtling off into the night.
You swore under your breath, the nasty little word following after the umbrella, lost in the storm. That would figure.
Nothing to be done about it now. Onwards!
The trip back home was, somehow, even faster than your trip out to the store — propelled by your aversion to freezing rain and hunger, you darted up the street at speeds that you didn't even know you were physically capable of. In half the time, you found yourself barreling up the echoing, yellowed stairwell of your building, likely causing a disturbance to your neighbors. You couldn't find it in yourself to care. They were shitty neighbors. They could do with a taste of their own medicine.
You haphazardly threw open the door to your apartment, letting out a soft 'oh, shit!' as it slammed against the wall from the force. When it swung back closed, there was a dent you didn't think was there before.
Suneater looked up at you in alarm from his place in the living room, TV droning on quietly in the background. It looked like a nature documentary. "What's go — are you alright?"
You shot him a grin, hoping it wasn't nearly as manic as you felt. "My umbrella broke!" you proclaimed. "But I got stuff!"
He blinked owlishly. "Like, food?"
You nodded hard, droplets of water dancing in the air around you as they broke free with the force of your enthusiasm. "Food-food."
His eyes lit up like he had just heard the best news of his life. "What did you get?"
"Stand back," you commanded haughtily, unpacking the few bags onto your bare countertop with a proud flourish, while Suneater watched on in anticipation. "Prepare for the feast of your life."
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Your takoyaki was fucking awful.
It turned out that no number of YouTube videos and cooking blogs manned by middle-aged moms could compensate for your utter lack of skill and preparation — you had managed to hit most of the essentials for takoyaki, but definitely did not manage to grab all of them. The dough was slightly overdone and a little tacky, the exterior daringly toeing the line between 'crispy' and 'burnt'. Your poor, brand-new takoyaki pan looked like it had gone through hell. The octopus was thankfully already boiled when you had bought it, because the center of some of the balls didn't seem to reach a temperature that would have meant that they were safe for consumption.
They were messy, falling apart, unevenly heated, and ultimately, pretty bland. The sauce was good, though. Suneater didn't have to know it had come in a bottle.
The takoyaki were, frankly, a marvel in poor cooking. They tasted like an unflattering metaphor.
Suneater was seated across the table from you, looking dubiously at the doughy, little ball in his hand. You were about to call it off, warn him to spare himself the suffering and that you'd try something different tomorrow, but you were too late — he popped the bastardized takoyaki into his mouth whole.
You winced. He looked thoughtful, chewing slowly.
"These are..." he started, swallowing thickly. His face looked pinched, like the very action had caused him pain.
Your felt the back of your neck get very hot and you waved a flippant hand. You laughed meekly. "Uhh, yeah, I don't really —"
"Thank you," he said, picking up another ball from the pan and taking a smaller, more deliberate bite this time.
You watched him intentionally take another bite — like, on purpose. "What are you doing?" you gawked.
"Eating," he replied.
You watched him as he continued to pick away at ball after ball.
"Are you not going to have any?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at you, mouth full.
You stared incredulously at the sight for a second longer, before a light, easy laugh bubbled up in your chest, effervescent and fizzy like champagne, and left your mouth against your will. The hero across from you paused. "Sure," you said, reaching for the pan. "Why not?"
The two of you continued to eat in silence, but it was different from the silences that you had grown used to in the last week — this one didn't feel charged with anything. It was comfortable.
"So, what else have you manifested in the past?" you asked conversationally, sniffling as you took a sip of water.
His eyes widened a bit and he swallowed the bite he had taken. He cleared his throat. "Um. Lots of things, I guess."
"Like?" you prompted.
"Well, all the animals you'd expect. Cows, pigs, chickens. Seafood things, too, like fish and clams and crabs," he said, listing things off as he thought. "Some more exotic stuff that I've had imported in, out of curiosity or for missions. I've eaten insects. Tried alligator once."
Your brow furrowed. "What did that taste like?" you asked with a scrunched nose.
"That's what you want to ask?" he asked incredulously, hand freezing on its way to pop another ball into his mouth. "What it tasted like? Not what I manifested?"
"Well, that too," you admitted, picking at pan again. You were realizing that the more you ate the horrid little things, the better they were tasting. Still offensive, but better. "But I'm curious. Indulge me."
He scratched at his jaw, eyes unfocused. "It tasted a little fishy, honestly. Chewy. Wasn't bad," he said. "I manifested the hide, which is very thick and tough, and also the teeth and something weird happened with my jaw. Ultimately, the jaw wasn't useful, but I do keep some alligator vacuum-packed in my freezer and at the agency in case I could use the hide."
You grimaced at the thought of the menagerie that must exist in this man's freezer. "You're a real weirdo, you know that?"
He wilted under your teasing. "That's just cruel. You asked."
Your laugh was boisterous, sudden. "Oh, come on, Suneater. Don't be like that."
He cringed then, as though he had finally tasted your appalling attempt at dinner. You peered at him curiously.
"Please, stop... that," he said jerkily, voice a little unsteady.
You rose an eyebrow. You'd thought you were being civil enough, compared to usual. He was throwing you for loop after loop the past few days — and at that point, you weren't sure you knew which one of his moods you were dealing with. You could almost feel reassured in his apparent nervousness, the familiarity of it, but couldn't be certain of what if meant.
"Stop what?" you finally asked, at a loss.
He sunk in his chair. His face twisted unhappily. "Calling me Suneater," he muttered. "Here, anyway, it... it doesn't feel right." He was kneading his hands together and looking off towards a blank wall, the fridge, anywhere that wasn't you. "Just... just Amajiki is fine."
Oh. You hadn't expected that. He looked like he wanted to retract the words back to where they'd come from, like he wanted to be anywhere that wasn't there, at your kitchen table.
You were still as you mulled this development over. He fidgeted under your study. It didn't take you long.
"Alright," you said, and his attention focused back on you. "Amajiki, then."
He nodded, and you could have imagined it, but you might have seen the ghost of a smile on his lips.
"You know," he said conspiratorially. "In polite company, this is where you'd introduce yourself."
"Nice try, Amajiki," you said with a laugh. "Unfortunately, I'm not 'polite company'."
He shook his head. Yeah, he was definitely smiling now.
It was the worst food you'd ever been subjected to; you were wet and freezing and tired and sitting with someone who was certainly only biding his time, waiting for you to be arrested.
You smiled and grabbed another takoyaki. It was the first dinner you'd ever really enjoyed.
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author's notes: we've graduated from 'suneater' to 'amajiki'. mostly because i was sick of how impersonal 'suneater' sounded but you know. it was also very, very intentional :) i am very, very soft for these two idiots. chapter title is from 'chasing cars' by snow patrol!
up next: tamaki shows his true colors
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taglist (let me know if you want to be added!!): @pixelwisp @taurus852 @spicy-therapist-mom
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sapphicdaya · a month ago
High School AU!
Maria Hill x Reader
summary: lyric fic to the song Betty by Taylor Swift. (Some lyrics are tweaked to fit the story better! These lyrics are NOT mine!)
warnings: angst to fluff, mentions of cheating, mentions of underaged drinking (very small part)
AN: I am back from my hiatus and am to see that you all stuck around. I am currently quarantined since I came into contact with someone who tested positive with covid (v scary ik!), but I am okay! I got my first dose before they got covid so hopefully, I am okay. Since I will be home for the next ten days, I'll start posting more. I hope you all are staying safe and enjoy.
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Betty, I won't make assumptions
About why you switched your homeroom
But, I think it's 'cause of me
“What do you want Maria?” Inez quickly dismisses her as soon as Maria steps foot in front of her.
“Look, I just want to know where Y/N is. I need to talk to her.” Maria rocks back on her heels and exhales.
“Why so you can break her heart again? Do me a favor and fuck off!” Inez yells and pushes past Maria making sure to shoulder check her in the process. Maria exhales once again and stares at the floor. God, what has she done?
Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard
When I passed your house
It's like I couldn't breathe
It has been two weeks since the incident and it has been affecting Maria more than she would have ever thought it would. She has been sloppy at soccer practices and her coaches and teammates are starting to notice. They need their star forward if they want to make it to states and Maria just couldn’t find herself to care anymore. If this was any other year she would have been at the top of her game. She eats, sleeps, and breathes the game of soccer, but all she can think about is you. Frustrated and tired from being in her head so much, she decides to take a ride on her board. She rides for half an hour with no destination in mind. Some cruel part of her brain subconsciously led her to you. Luckily, your car was not in the driveway when she passed by, but some part of her wished that you were there. She’d do anything to see you hold you again. She felt a wave of anxiety hit as she came back to her senses-quickly leaving to go back home. So much for clearing her mind.
You heard the rumors from Inez
You can't believe a word she says
Most times, but this time, it was true
The worst thing that I ever did
Was what I did to you
Maria trudges up the stairs and into her room with tears in her eyes. She royally fucked up and all she could think about was your face that day when the rumors spread. Your best friend Inez is notoriously known for her big mouth and gossip, but this time it was true. Ironically enough, Maria woke up in a good mood. She had broken things off with Carol the weekend before and was getting ready to tell you. Maria was known as your school’s fuckgirl, but she wanted to make it up to you. You changed her for the better and she needed you in her life. She knew something was up the second she stepped into Mr.Brown’s homeroom. You and Inez were at your usual table, but instead of the pair of you laughing, Inez was rubbing your back as you tried to hold back tears. The rest of the class was whispering and gossiping about what was going on. The moment she stepped in the door the whispers ceased and all eyes turned to her. You looked up wondering why the class got silent and made eye contact with her. That was when she knew. That look on your face has haunted Maria for the past month. Maria bolted over to you with tears threatening to spill. God this couldn’t be happening.
“Baby-” Maria reached out to hold your hands but you flinched at her touch as her once comforting hands burned like a vampire in the sun.
You shook your head “You don’t get to call me that anymore. God, how could I have been so stupid!”
Maria closed her eyes- trying to contain the tears prickling the surface.
“Y/N, please let me explain just please-”
“Is it true Maria?” Y/N cut her off mid-sentence.
You could hear a pin drop in the room. Maria felt guilt creep up in her stomach and throat. She felt physically sick of herself. That look of hope that you had in your eyes slipped away. She broke your heart. A tear slipped from your eye as you bolted out of the room.
Maria laid in her bed as a sob wracked her body. She promised to never hurt you and here you were. She never did commitment before; she talked ill about it even, but you changed her world and she couldn’t get you back.
Betty, I know where it all went wrong
Your favourite song was playing
From the far side of the gym
I was nowhere to be found
I hate the crowds, you know that
Plus, I saw you dance with her
Thinking back to where it all took a turn, Maria wishes that she would have been there for you. You were just so excited to go to the school dance. If only Maria got her head out of her ass. She might have been this popular jock that everyone wants at their parties, but she hated the attention and the crowds. You were the only one who got to know the real Maria. When you asked her to the dance she promptly declined. The face you made when she declined broke her heart. Last-minute, Maria decides to go to the dance, but she didn’t see all the times where you declined dances or when you spent half the dance by yourself, no. She walked in to see you slow dancing with Natasha Romanoff. Natasha Romanoff is the school’s sweetheart. She is nothing like Maria and that hurt her.
I was walking home on broken cobblestones
Just thinking of you
When she pulled up
Like a figment of my worst intentions
She said, "Maria, get in, let's drive"
Those days turned into nights
Slept next to her, but
I dreamt of you all summer long
With no explanation, Maria wrote off commitment once again. Why would you ever like someone like her?
On her walk back home from the dance is where it all started. Carol Danvers, the school’s notorious badass just so happened to be in the area. She was intriguing and made Maria feel like she didn’t have to compete to be on her level. She knew she was in for it when she said,
“Maria, get in, let’s drive.”
One time turned into two.
Two turned into three and three turned into three months. Carol might have been the one she slept next to, but you were the one on her mind.
Betty, I'm here on your doorstep
And I planned it out for weeks now
But it's finally sinking in
Betty, right now is the last time
I can dream about what happens
When you see my face again
The only thing I wanna do
Is make it up to you
So, I showed up at your party
Word got around that you were throwing a party for your 17th birthday. Well, more like Inez was throwing a party to take your mind off everything. Maria got around to hearing of the party and started making her plan to talk to you again. This could either go really well or she could completely fuck this over.
She stood at your doorstep with your favorite cardigan you thought you lost in a gift bag. She took a deep breath before walking in your home. She felt the stares, but she couldn’t care what others thought. She was her for one thing and one thing only. To get you back.
Yeah, I showed up at your party
Will you have me? Will you love me?
Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?
If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it?
Will it patch your broken wings?
I'm only 17, I don't know anything
But I know I miss you
The moment you two made eye contact it took your breath away. She looked a dream, but your heart was telling you that a nightmare was approaching. Inez turned her head to see what you were looking at and immediately got angry.
“Who the fuck let her in?” She angrily stomped to Maria as you stood frozen. You knew you forgave her a long time ago, but you don’t know if you can risk all that heartbreak again. Life with Maria was bliss. You haven’t felt a connection like that ever in your life. You were in love with her and didn’t want to let her go. You took a sip of your drink and walked to where Inez was chewing out your ex.
“Look, I know i’m an asshole and I do have the nerve to show up here uninvited, but I just really want to talk to-”
“Inez it’s okay.” You stood in front of the beautiful girl you were still so in love with. Your best friend nods and whispers something to Maria. Maria gulps and looks back at you. All of that built up confidence that she had suddenly washed away.
“Hi?” You snap her out of her trance.
“Y/N h-hi uhh happy birthday.” She nervously chews the corner of her lip and extends her arm with a present.
You take the bag and raise your eyebrow. “You didn’t just come here to give me a present, did you?”
“N-no! I just-” She huffs out and tugs on her beautiful brunette hair that you used to run your fingers through. “I wanted to talk to you if you give me the chance.”
You sigh and nod your head. “Let’s go out back to the garden.” She smiles and follows you out. What have you gotten yourself into?
You two sit in the garden taking each other in. Life was so different the last time you were together back here.
“I just want to say how sorry I am, Y/N. I know sorry won’t cut it and I can’t even begin to believe how much I have hurt you,” Tears started to flow free from Maria’s eyes. Now, that’s something you haven’t seen before. You hesitantly take her hand in yours and caress her palm. She takes a deep breath and continues. “I was really planning on telling you that day, you know. I just- I felt like you could have done better than me and maybe you and Natasha deserved to be together.”
You furrowed your eyebrows at her statement. “Tasha is one of my best friends other than Inez. Where did you get that thought from, Mari?”
Maria smiled at the nickname she hasn’t heard in so long.
“I was at the dance and saw you two slow dancing to your favorite song. The look that you gave each other was something that I wish that you gave me. I wish I could look in your eyes and not see all the pain and disappointment I’ve caused. I am in love with you Y/N and I was scared. Carol was the first thing I saw after seeing the love of my life fall for someone else and I reverted back to my ways.” I flinch at the mention of Carol and shake my head.
“You can be so confusing sometimes you know that? I am in love with you Maria. If you would have been there earlier you would have seen how miserable I was. Nat just finally got me off my ass to enjoy that one part of the dance.” You let out a huff and feel a tear slide down your cheek. This is stupid why did you agree to listen. Before you could wipe your tear, Maria takes her thumb and wipes it away. She caresses your cheek and stares at your lips.
“You’re the only one I want Y/N,” She whispers. “You changed me for the better. All I can ever think about is you. I wake up wondering how you’re doing and go to bed dreaming about what we could have been if I wasn’t a douchebag. You are it for me, Y/N. Please give me a chance to start over. I am in love with you and always will be.
Those were the words you so desperately wanted to hear for the past year. Maria was the love of your life, and no matter how much pain she caused, you knew you would do it all over in a heartbeat just to have her in your arms again. With tears flowing freely down both of your faces, you press your lips to hers in a passionate and fiery kiss. She may not have been a Shakespeare with her words, but you felt every emotion flow through you with the way she kissed you. She kissed you like you breathed life back into her. Your missing piece was back with you, and you refuse to let it go again. The two of you pull apart out of breath.
“I am in love with you Maria Hill.”
“I am in love with you Y/F/N Y/LN”
Standing in your cardigan
Kissing in my car again
Stopped at a streetlight
You know I miss you
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spearxwind · a month ago
i keep fucking forgetting so answer stuff bc ive been busy BIG apologies to all yall sorry for the delay
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he has not! none of the ocs from hollowridge have been reworked into oxy and I heavily doubt any of them will make it into oxy at all since HR is its own thing entirely. The only exception I made was for adri bc he’s my fucking fave and I didnt want to leave him on a project thats pretty much entirely dead in the water!
Sorry if its a dissappointing to anyone haha but im genuinely just fucking sick of Hollowridge and what I did to it so I’m trying to move on, at least for now. 
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Icarus................. your mind is massive thank you
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OKAY THIS IS INSANE I THINK THANK U SO MUCH??? THIS WAS RLY FUN GOSH TY :WAILING: the lyrics had me going HAH out loud because. Yeah. I Understand
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YOU ARE ALL GOOD i am answering all of these questions two to four days late x) 
Thank you so much still though, and thank you to everyone else who sent in bday wishes that I did not answer I promise i read all of them and they were all very sweet i keep u all in my heart 
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I do NOT know what the fuck this is in reference to but i HAVE drawn adri as a train before, here
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genuinely still one of the coolest, and yet more nonsensival things ive done. However I would like to point out that this art is now ridiculously accurate to what he currently looks like and idk how to feel about it
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ok let me be more specific then. would it be socially acceptable to have a character with a tapeworm coming out of their mouth and going “oohh aaahh oh no I have a tapeworm you have to yank it out of meeeeee”
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It has been a full 24 hours and i still do not understand what the hell this ask is. Like, what?
also tbh depends on how much they paid me but yeah id take a sponsorship from them. Ill draw a single pizza in my comic for 5000$. 
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special shoutout to that one anon I still think about from time to time that said smth like. “if your oc is so bad then would they kill.... THIS PUPPY?!?!” and I just about lost it like. You have no fucking idea what youre up against, my man
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It’s not dw the page will go up today I was just hanging out with my SO and i didnt feel like spending an hour setting up the pages for upload. I know it’s irresponsible of me but i still havent missed a single week even if a page or two has been late, and I definitely wouldnt put the comic on hiatus with no warning 
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chayenzo · a month ago
singer!cha-young & violonist!vincenzo au pt.1
don’t ask me why. i have no answer for you okay.
cha-young starts her career when she’s 5, appearing in a yogurt commercial. she’s not exactly a cute child, but she’s enthusiastic and disciplined.
her dad, the retired leader of a rock band who had a few hit songs in the 80s, is the one who introduces her to music.
she learns the piano & the guitar and takes singing lesson. her childhood is guided by auditions and music classes.
when she’s 12, a big agency contacts her and she signs a trainee contract with them. her dad is against it, but her mom and her win him over. she’ll be careful, they’ll look after her.
she starts training after school everyday, on the weekends too. she’s not really good at dance and she gets in trouble a lot but she’s the best singer in her age group, which makes up for it.
time passes by and the company starts to ask her to lose weight. her dance teacher comments on how big her thighs are. she’s asked if she ever thought about a nose job, or an eye surgery. those things happen a lot, and if she wants a sit at the big table, she’ll need to make some decisions.
her parents disagree, of course, but then her mother falls ill. she has to stop working and money becomes scarce. cha-young doesn’t want to bother them with her insignificant issues and so she starts a diet without any of them noticing. she needs to be thinner, maybe she’ll win a scholarship and her dad won’t need to work two jobs anymore.
her dad comes home drunk most nights, as if the sight of her mother made him sick. she was dying and her husband couldn’t even look at her anymore. cha-young doesn’t know who she hates more: her dad or herself for wishing she could escape home the same way he did every night.
her mom dies when she’s 15 and she stops taking lessons. she quits the company after a while too. she wins a scholarship for a good arts high school, known to hone musical talents. she meets new friends there, ones who don’t care about her proportions or her eyelids, and she’s happy in school.
her dad and her starts to argue more and more, until they stop talking. she fills the silence in her empty house with the music she writes.
after she graduates high school, she works two jobs to pay her way through college. all of her spare time is used composing, writing lyrics, singing. she posts covers on YouTube and she starts to gain some followers.
it’s not enough to make money but an independent label that’s been on the rise notices her. she signs with them after reading the contract carefully, when she’s 19. she choses her stage name, NOVA.
her first album is out by the time she’s 20 and she starts appearing on tv. her second album at 23 is her big break. her first hit song “Alone With You”, an upbeat tune contrasted by sad lyrics, stays on top of the charts for weeks, owing her the nickname of “monster rookie”.
people soon start to discover her easy-going, bubbly yet blunt personality and she starts going on more variety shows.
she’s loved and she’s found her sound, profound lyrics with innovative instrumentals, she plays with genres and concepts often, keeping her image fresh.
at 30, she’s one of the biggest South Korean solo act. she tours the world, sells album, holds events for her fans, travels. she doesn’t have to think about money anymore. she lives in a luxurious apartment in the centre of Seoul.
she’s learned that not everyone is going to love her. she’s used to dealing with virulent anti-fans, stalkers and paparazzi.
she has everything her 15 year old self dreamt of, an amazing career and devoted fans, a name people recognise and a wardrobe bigger than their previous living room. yet, she can’t seem to fill the emptiness inside of her.
she calls her dad once a year, for the new year. he still lives in their old house, refusing to move into the one she bought just for him. he teaches guitar to kids at the community center in their neighbourhood. her anger doesn’t seem to fade with the years.
she almost looses everything when her assistant, jung jun woo, leaks the fact that she’s had an abortion after she rejects him.
she’d been dating an actor a few years ago, and they had had an accident. she’d noticed too late that she missed her period since it was irregular and had to get an abortion. she didn’t think any of it now, there’s nothing wrong with a woman making this choice and she wasn’t ready to become a mother. she’d never once regretted it in the past.
however, South Korea’s entertainment industry was not a kind one, and a news like that would destroy her clean, quirky girl-next-door image she’d built over the years. and it did.
she’d never expected jun woo to betray her. he was part of her management team, one of her assistants. he’d always been cute if not a little clingy.
he’d confessed his feelings for her a few weeks back, claiming that he knew they were made for each other and that he would do everything for her and she’d laughed in his face. she hadn’t meant to sound mean or insensitive, she had thought it was a prank he was pulling on her.
turns out it wasn’t, and he had leaked this “abortion gate” to dispatch to get get back at her.
her label had released a vague statement, about “a difficult time in her life”, urging people to stop looking into “her private medical history”.
trashy tabloids and online blogs had had a field day. some people even started a petition to remove her from the industry. the news quickly turned into a social discourse when feminist orgs stood up for her. everyone was talking about it, some claiming she was a slut, others turning her into a symbol for women’s rights.
she felt like neither, it had been too long since she’d gotten some to qualify as a slut, and her label would have never let her discuss politics publicly.
she’d lost dozens of endorsements and deals and had officially decided to “focus on her health away from the spotlight” for a while (another statement from her label)
officially on her first hiatus ever, cha-young was lost. every time she tried to write, nothing came out. it would’ve been the perfect time to work on a new album but it seemed nothing worked in her favour as of late.
it’s 6 am when her father calls her. the last she’d heard of him was when the scandal broke out and he’d sent a vague supportive message to which she had responded “thanks, dad”. it was unusual for him to call, especially so early (or late).
she picks up the phone the second times he calls. “hello?” “hello, do you know the owner of this phone?” the man on the other side of the line is definitely not her father and he sounds rather annoyed. “yes, i’m this person’s daughter.” “great, can you come pick him up from my hotel room?” “your hotel room? is he okay?” “he should be. we drank too much and i have to vacate the room before 8. can you come or not?” “yes.” “I’ll text you the address from his phone.” is the last thing he says before hanging up. what a rude man.
why was her father drunk in hotel room with this rude stranger and why was she the one having to pick him up?
she doesn’t want to wake up her manager at this hour, and so she decides to go on her own. the hotel isn’t too far, a mere 15 minute drive, and soon enough she’s knocking on the door of a very expensive hotel suit, definitely not what one of her father’s friends could afford. who the hell was this guy?
she definitely did not expect Vincenzo Cassano, renowned world class violinist, to be the one opening the door.
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nedjemetsenen · a month ago
I literally cannot describe how amazing and beautiful and fantastic what we do in the name of ma'at is. I love reading your A/N so much it's just 💜🥰😻💜❗
Thank you so much anon and everyone else who joined me on this ride. I just posted the final chapter and epilogue for All This We Do in the Name of Ma’at, which means that we are done! I am free!
For those who are curious about what comes next:
1. I am open to writing additional content for this AU. Deleted scenes, post credit content, etc. There's a lot of stuff that I didn't explore in the main fic due to a desire to tell a well-paced, coherent story. Hopefully I pulled that off, but if you want more, feel free to tell me what you want to see. As far as requests go, I prefer asks on tumblr instead of comments because not every request will inspire a full story, but I will try to at least give you a headcannon or the like.
2. I have another long fic idea that I'm currently playing with and will probably end up writing, though I am curious if the general premise appeals or not. It is nothing like Ma'at because it's a complete AU instead of a reimagining. It's also not historical fiction. Remember when I had that two week hiatus when I got sick? Well, I binged She-Ra on Netflix during that time and, while I have many things that I didn't like about that series, it did give me ideas. This new piece is based on those ideas. It is NOT a She-Ra rewrite, but it has a similar vibe. More like something that anyone could enjoy, but that She-Ra fans would potentially pick up similarities in. I'm not going to start publishing this for a while, though. Hopefully I'll get some short story requests first and use those as a break since I'd like a few weeks without a self-imposed deadline to meet. I also want to develop this new fic's ideas a lot more before I throw content out there.
3. I'm going to write a short rare-pair collab with a friend and you'll see that on AO3 soon. Do not worry, this doesn't mean that I'm no longer going to be writing puzzle content or anything like that. Puzzleshipping is, and always will always be, my OTP.
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day-off-inkyoto · a month ago
Glad to see you’re back from your hiatus. Hope you’re feeling rejuvenated! <3 I’ve been feeling the baby fever lately, so maybe something with Whiskey as a dad-to-be and/or new dad?
Thank you love! And of course! 
When you found out you were pregnant, you were scared of how he would react. You knew he was still hurting over the loss of his high school sweetheart and his unborn son. The two of you hadn’t been trying to have a baby, so this was definitely a surprise. You took a few home tests, all of which came back positive, but you waited until after you saw the doctor to say anything to Jack. 
He had just returned from a week long mission, and he was anxious to get home to you. “Darlin’, your cowboy has returned!” he announced as he walked through the door. You practically launched yourself into his waiting arms and said “Oh, Jack. I missed you so much.” He gave you a passionate kiss on the lips before saying “I missed you too, my darlin’.” 
It must have been the emotions of the moment and the hormones, but you suddenly burst into tears. Concern washed over Jack’s face. “What’s wrong, sugar? Did something happen? Talk to me, sweetheart.” You weren’t even really thinking, but between sobs you choked out “Jack, I’m pregnant.” The concern on Jack’s face quickly turned to shock. He stood there silent as you continued crying.
“Jack, please say something.” He grabbed the back of his neck and looked back at you with glassy eyes. “You’re pregnant?” he breathed out. “Yeah. I went to the doctor and they confirmed it. I don’t know how this happened, Jack.” Before you could say another word, he wrapped his arms around you, letting his own tears fall. He kissed you again and pressed his forehead to yours. “We’re really having a baby, darlin’?” You were crying again as you said “Yeah, Jack. That is, if that’s what you want. I know we haven’t talked about this.” “Of course I want this, sugar. I never told you but the moment I fell in love with you, I imagined you having my baby. I’m so happy, sugar.” 
The months passed with all the typical things that came along with pregnancy. Jack was there every step of the way to help you through morning sickness, mood swings, and to rub your aching feet and back. If you thought Jack was ecstatic when you told him that you were pregnant, he was over the moon when you found out you were having a girl. He decorated and furnished the nursery himself and read as many baby books as he could get his hands on. 
The day your little girl arrived was a bit of a disaster. There was a bad storm moving through, and the roads were impassible, so she was born on living room floor. Despite the dramatic entrance, she was perfectly healthy and absolutely beautiful. Jack was wrapped around her finger from the moment he laid eyes on her. He was moved to tears once again when he finally got to hold his little girl. “Hey little darlin’, I’m your daddy. Oh, I love you so much pumpkin. As long as I’m around I’m not gonna let anything happen to you or your sweet mama.”
You decided to name her Rainey, to commemorate her unconventional entrance to the world. Jack took to fatherhood like a duck to water. He was always quick to go to her in the middle of the night when she cried so you could get as much rest as you could. One night when she was particularly fussy, Jack got up to go get her like he always did. 
“Hey, hey little darlin’. What’s wrong baby girl?” he cooed to the wailing infant as he rocked her back and forth. He continued rocking her in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on her back, and talking softly to her, but she just wouldn’t settle down. Feeling rather exhausted himself, Jack sat down in the rocking chair in the nursery, and started singing a lullaby to her. You could hear everything through the baby monitor on your night stand, and it made your heart swell. Not only did Jack’s voice lull little Rainey to sleep, but it put you to sleep as well. 
You woke up the next morning to find Jack’s side of the bed empty, and judging by the temperature of the sheets, you could tell he had been gone for a while. You got up and slowly made your way to the nursery to check on Rainey, and the sight before you brought tears to your eyes. There was Jack, fast asleep in the rocking chair, with little Rainey cradled against his chest. You didn’t want to disturb him, but you knew if Jack stayed there much longer, you would never hear the end of how bad his back was hurting. You gently lifted Rainey from his arms and placed her back in her crib. Jack started to stir, and looked up at you with sleepy brown eyes. “Good morning, cowboy.” you said to him before kissing his hairline. “Good morning, sugar. Did I fall asleep in the rocking chair?” “Yeah, honey you did” you said as you laughed to yourself. 
Jack got up from the rocking chair and pulled you in for a kiss. “Thank you, darlin’.” “For what, Jack?” “For giving me the most beautiful baby girl in the world, and making this house a home. I love you so much, sugar.” “Oh, Jack. I love you too.” The two of you shared another kiss before little Rainey made her presence known. You both couldn’t help but laugh because of the timing, but you were both so happy with your little family and wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.
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whatimconsuming · a month ago
Creators got sick of YouTube’s ad revenue share as the only option. Fb/Insta treated art like information that was free Then In 2011/2013, @shl started Gumroad & @jackconte started Patreon, offering a taste of direct fan monetization. Creators began to realize their worth... Viners banded together, demanding native monetization. Twitter refused, so they fled to YouTube with followers in tow, and Vine withered. That struck fear in the hearts of platforms. They were proven vulnerable. Cracks formed in the dam of creator wage suppression... The social giants wrongly assumed influencer marketing was enough monetization. But that forced creators to make mainstream, one-size-fits -none content, leading them to feel sold out or burned out So creators began to move their top fans to more intimate, owned properties. Creator Economy Phase 1: Join platforms, limited revenue shares 2: Grow huge on platforms, monetize with sponsored content Now it’s Phase 3: Creators migrate top fans to apps for patronage, tipping, merch, shout-outs, events, communities, classes... As a whiplash reaction to the Creator Crisis of platforms neglecting monetization, a Creator Renaissance has arisen of startups building tools to help Social giants saw the threat of Patreon winning over millions of creators, and scrambled to add monetization Twitch Bits, YouTube Channel Memberships, Fb Ad Breaks But over a decade of negligence, their fickle algorithms lost the trust of creators, who wanted to go direct. Creators must be founders of their own media orgs, assembling teams & tools. It’s the only way to criss-cross fragmented formats, channels, & $$$ streams. Their editors, data scientists, & community leaders will be the creator economy middle class Creator burnout + mental health is a huge concern. Paid time off? Algorithmic pauses where a brief hiatus doesn’t tank your reach? If you’re a creator, offer your peers a week-long account trade-off so you can each have a vacation! What creators need next are: Post-production talent marketplaces to hire from Finance tools like Karat’s credit card to pay for them. And white-labeled tools to build their own sites instead of being sharecroppers living on borrow land from social platforms.
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mimiswitchywrites · a month ago
Not A Burden: Chapter 7
TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering).
Master list or read on AO3
1.8k words
If you want to be tagged for updates, message me or comment!
One more chapter tomorrow and then a week or so of hiatus while I sort some life stuff out
Merlin had been dreaming about a certain sandy haired royal for the last few weeks and he couldn’t figure out if he loved it or hated it. It made serving him far harder than it needed to be as all he could think about was the way dream Arthur had pinned him to his desk as he cleared it or how dream Arthur would give him the day off so they could go to the market together and how real Arthur would never do something like that. Real Arthur could barely look at him, let alone want to go out in public with him like that. On the other hand, dream Arthur was really fucking hot, and Merlin enjoyed that. He knew he could never have real Arthur, so it made him happy to at least have a version of him at night.
Was that sad? Maybe a little.
But, regardless of his feelings towards these dreams, he did not appreciate them being interrupted. Especially not by his frantic father-figure. Especially not when Dream Arthur had just got onto his knees and was beginning to undo the ties on Merlin’s breaches…
Gaius was rather insistent that Merlin wake up and help him find Miriam who, he guessed as he hadn’t really been listening properly, had vanished. He threw on yesterday’s clothes, too tired to look presentable, and made his way into the main chamber where, unsurprisingly, the spare cot was empty. He sighed, giving into the fact that he wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep, and ran out the door to ask the guards at the bottom of the stairs if they had seen her. Well, tried to run. Instead, he ended up inches from headbutting Miriam and, Lancelot? The latter of which seemed to be leaning in for a kiss that the former looked as if she really didn’t want to partake in.
He heard Gaius sigh from inside the room and settle down to get started on the days work. After letting the poor girl hurry inside and close the door behind her, Merlin decided to have some fun (it was only fair after such a rude start to the morning which Lancelot had played his part in.)
He started with a raised eyebrow, something he was getting far better at after being on the receiving end of Gaius’ for so long. The love-struck knight stuttered, trying to form a feeble defence.
“You know, out of all the knights, I thought you were the most responsible. Kidnapping a sick, defenceless young maiden? Whatever would the king say?” He bit his tongue to keep from laughing at Lancelot’s reddening face. He cracked, snorting unceremoniously and slapping the man’s arm in the hopes of getting him to lighten up a little.
“Relax, my friend, I don’t tell Arthur of every person his knights sneak off with – I would be there for years on Gwaine alone.” Lancelot finally let out a small laugh, still hot with embarrassment.
“I apologise if we worried you, I meant to have her back before you woke but we got… distracted.” He drifted off, thinking about how beautiful the shadows her lashes had cast on her cheeks as they watched the stars were.
“Distracted?” Merlin gave him a look that said: ‘you-know-how-much-that-sounds-like-you-took-a-tumble-in-the-hay-right?’ and, for the umpteenth time that morning, Lancelot turned beet red. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck and stumbling over No’s and That’s Not What I Meant’s.
Merlin could only shake his head at his friend, once again clamping his mouth shut to avoid laughing at him. He loved Lancelot like a brother, but the poor man was helpless, sometimes. He shoved the man gently, finally telling him to leave and get some sleep before training started in a few hours. The flushed knight (who, Merlin observed, matched the red of Camelot’s banner remarkably) made his way down the stairs, playing the night over and over, in his head.
It had not ended quite as he would have liked but gods be dammed, it was one of the best meals Lancelot had ever had. His free hand (the other still holding the picnic basket) ghosted over his lips, imagining how hers would have felt pressed against them.
Merlin entered the chambers, hopping into his room to prepare himself for his day with the king. Arthur would be holding a council meeting that afternoon so Merlin had to brush up on the topic (they would be discussing solidifying more roads between Camelot and its villages to help with trade, he was falling asleep just thinking about it) and he still needed to wash off the sweat from his dreams the previous night.
He made his way down to the kitchens first, parchments about the roads under his arm, and gathered the King’s breakfast, and an extra roll and sausage for himself. He overheard Cook muttering about how she needed more hands around and that one of her ‘good for nothing’ staff had stolen the excess that was meant to go to the dogs. He kept that in mind and made his way up to the Royal Chambers, nearly tripping over on one of the many staircases, only just keeping all the food on it’s platter.
Nodding to the guards on watch, he opened the door with his elbow and shuffled in backwards, knocking over the chair that was dangerously left in the doorway. Arthur moaned from his bed (a sound that Merlin knew he would end up replaying that evening once Miriam and Gaius were asleep) and pulled his pillow over his face. After dropping the breakfast on the table, Merlin made his way to the curtains, pulling them open.
“Up and at ‘em, time to brighten the Lords’ day with your cute little face” Merlin intended to say this with a sarcastic lilt but, distracted by those mouth-watering abs, failed to.
Arthur slowly pulled the pillow from his face, a look of confusion on his features as he watched his pitiful manservant watch him in some sort of daze. The pillow went flying from his hands, bashing Merlin back to reality.
Why must such a prat be so beautiful, he pondered as he gathered the Kings clothes for the day. He chose the tighter white shirt which he knew would be soaked after training later. He blushed at the thought, hiding a grin as he rummaged through the cupboard.
Arthur groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. If Merlin had to wake him up each morning, why couldn’t it be something nice like with a kiss or his long fingers adventuring? Was that truly so much to ask? Well, to fantasise about – Arthur knew there was no way he could actually ask for that. Merlin could say no or tell someone which would lead to a civil war or him overthrowing or, even worse, he could say yes and then Arthur would be the one that had to say no to prevent the aforementioned civil war or overthrowing. Arthur quite liked his head being attached to his body, but he knew it was unlikely to stay that was if his people discovered that he had certain inclinations towards men. Merlin was incapable when it came to keeping secrets and one as big as sleeping with the king was too much of a risk.
Arthur groaned again, finally rolling out of bed and allowing Merlin to help him into his clothes. He picked at his food, giving the leftovers to Merlin because gods knew he didn’t eat enough. The boy looked exhausted and sat on the trunk at the end of Arthurs bed as he devoured a sausage (don’t you dare go there, Arthur).
Pushing out from his chair, Arthur leant back against the table, so they were facing each other.
“What’s got you so tired? Sneaking off to the whore house in the dead of night?” Gods, he hoped that wasn’t it. He didn’t like how jealousy bubbled in his chest at the thought. Merlin’s brows shot up, practically jumping off his head, and he choked on the bread roll that he had tried devouring in a single bite. The boy turned red as he struggled to breath and Arthur, being the gallant knight that he was, hit him on the back, dislodging the food and perhaps a vertebra or two. His hand lingered longer than it should have, rubbing a few gentle circles before dropping to his side.
Finally getting air into his lungs, Merlin responded, “Took me forever to get to sleep and then I dreamt all night and didn’t get any proper rest and then, before the sun had even risen, Gaius woke me to say that Miriam had gone missing.” At that, Arthur straightened, worrying about the girl. Merlin noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed, and eyes drifted to the door and so added, “she was okay, she snuck off with Lancelot on a date or something. He said they got ‘distracted’.” Merlin wiggled his eyebrows at this, and Arthur’s head tipped back, laughing.
“I was hoping they would return at a decent hour, I’m sorry they caused you to lose sleep. Because, well you know, you’re terrible at your job when you’re tired?” A sloppy attempt at his usual façade but Arthur was busy focusing on the purple bags under Merlin’s eyes. He wanted to rub the pad of his thumb over them, cupping his face. The boy really should sleep more. He would get a great night’s rest in a bed like Arthurs (especially after their activities exhausted him). Arthur turned away from Merlin, forcing himself to get his thoughts under control.
“Wait,” said Merlin, finally catching up, “you knew about this?”
Arthur paused to think about his answer. Should he not have known? He hadn’t meant to, but he’d bumped into Miriam and they had a particularly useful conversation which he was sure Merlin would be proud of. “Yes?”
“Are you asking me that?” Merlin’s lipped curled at the ends and Arthur’s heart fluttered.
“I knew, yes. I found Miriam looking out at the courtyard in a brooding stance that would put even my father to shame. We talked and I think things are mostly resolved between us. Turned out she was only up there as she got lost trying to find Lancelot, so I lead her down to him and they went off. Looked like he had a basket, so I believe they had some sort of late-night picnic. It seemed sweet, really.” He muttered the last part, craving the opportunity to take Merlin on a picnic – late-night or otherwise.
Merlin hopped off the trunk (with the grace of a drunk, new-born, calf) and closed the distance between the pair, tentatively placing his hand on his master’s bicep. “I am glad you talked; I know you were struggling with the idea of doing so.” Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin. He loved the soft blue ocean that coloured his eyes and, had they been anywhere else, been anyone else, he would spend days looking into them. But he was the King, Merlin was his servant, and Camelot was no place for such things.
“Don’t be such a girls petticoat, Merlin.” They both ignored the break in Arthur’s voice.
“Prat.” Merlin offered in response.
Arthur watched out the window as Merlin cleared their breakfast up and tidied the mess Arthur had somehow managed to create between his dismissal and waking the clot pole up. There was a comfortable silence between the two that they had mastered over the half decade of knowing each other. At some point, Arthur turned to watch his manservant as he flittered about the room, sweeping clothes under the bed with his foot and wiping shapes into the table as he cleaned it. He truly was terrible at his job and yet Arthur didn’t think he had ever been matched with someone so well.
None of his previous servants would tolerate questions such as: “So, what were you dreaming about that kept you from resting so?” Merlin stopped in his tracks (bent over the bed, arse in the air, as he put the duvet back in its place. Arthur had to bite his knuckles to avoid doing anything he would regret.) He straightened and Arthur swore he could see a blush forming.
“Nothing really, I mean, I don’t remember. Dreams are so hard to remember and all that, right? I don’t remember. Uh,” he cleared his throat, “why?” A pause, “What did you dream about, sire?”
His previous servants most certainly wouldn’t ask something like that.
“You know what, I think I have training to lead now. We should go.” He nodded to himself, Merlin mimicking – still red – and the pair swept out of the room.
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