#jerry's mum

[tsarisfanfiction]

Going Back

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Angst Characters: Yan, Jerry, Jerry's mother It had been a long time since Yan or Jerry had returned to London, but Jerry's mother was still there, waiting with open arms. TOApril day 23 - Cheesecake and Demons. This was an abstract prompt if ever I saw one, and what I was writing ended up going off the track rather significantly, whoops.

Returning to London felt weird.  Yan hadn’t been there for years, not since they were on the cusp of thirteen and facing their second sudden migration to another country for their own safety, although at least that time they hadn’t been alone.

They weren’t alone this time, either, which was helpful because they’d spent all of a year in England before jetting off to America and Camp Half-Blood, and six years of living separated from most of the mortal world entirely.  True, Jerry also hadn’t really spent much time outside of camp during those six years, either, but unlike Yan, he had the muscle memory and nostalgia of peak time London to fall back on as he led them through streets that were familiar but only vaguely.

Yan was going to have to relearn the quirks of the English transportation system if they were going to spend three years here.  They hadn’t yet settled on which university, exactly, they were going to attend, but they had no intentions of staying in America, and they did have fond memories of their year in London.

Maybe they wouldn’t live in London this time around, though.  Living in a busy city after six years of camp seemed like a bad idea, even without the justified paranoia of monsters lurking.  Britain wasn’t as bad as the Mediterranean for quantity or strength of monsters, but it was still part of Europe, and all of Europe trumped America for monster danger.  Yan wasn’t entirely certain why, but they had theories, and their dad hadn’t disproven or dismissed any of them when they’d brought them up.

This trip was just to visit a few of the universities in person.  They’d done virtual tours, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them in person.

Jerry, unsurprisingly, had jumped on the idea of a trip back to England, and maybe Yan was too used to being accommodating to their younger brother, but they’d had no problems with the insisted-upon side stop he’d proposed.

Maybe Yan was unlikely to see their mother again in person (they’d lost contact with her for a couple of years, until Apollo had made the effort to reconnect them, but time zones between America and Hong Kong weren’t kind, and she had other things to focus on in her life; Yan didn’t think either of them would make the journey to visit the other, although they thought they’d be happy if she proved them wrong), but Jerry had always been close to his mother.  Yan had sat in on many Skype calls, then Facetimes and WhatsApps as technology moved on and camp scrambled to keep up, while Jerry had nattered with his mother for hours on end.

Despite the frequent – weekly, at least – calls, though, Jerry hadn’t seen her in the flesh since the day they’d left for America, and Yan was never going to deny their brother the chance to visit her.  They’d rearranged the trip as best they could, around open days that wouldn’t budge for something as small as one prospective student’s travel plans, and it was doable enough to commute from London that Jerry’s childhood home worked well as a base.

Jerry had been an exhausting bundle of energy all journey, even though by all rights jet lag should have been settling in, and settling in hard.  Gods knew Yan was feeling the effects already.  Maybe Jerry was one of those frustrating people that simply wasn’t affected by it – Yan couldn’t remember if he’d been jetlagged or not when they’d arrived in America, but then again they’d been running for their lives for most of the time between touching down at New York’s airport and finally making it to camp.

There was a reason they hadn’t made the journey between then and now.  Yan still remembered the sight of their gutted satyr guide screaming for them to run and the sheer terror that had pushed their body to speeds far greater than they’d ever thought they could reach.

They jumped off the bus in a familiar neighbourhood, and Jerry didn’t hesitate as he led the way.  His mother hadn’t moved house, she’d assured them for the umpteenth time in their final call before leaving camp, and it was clear from his easy confidence that Jerry remembered the route well.  Yan’s host parents had lived a few roads away, but they hadn’t even tried to contact them to see if they were still there, or if they wanted to see them.

That didn’t matter, anyway.  Yan had never been particularly close to them, not the way Jerry and his mother were still close, despite the physical distance between them for the past six years.

Jerry’s house key still worked, and Yan was a little in awe at how he didn’t even hesitate when he put it in the lock, twisting it to one side and giving the handle an impatient niggle before the tumblers caught and the door swung inwards.

“I’m home, Mum!” he called out, and there was a rush of movement from inside the house, before the woman in question burst into sight, barely faltering before throwing herself around her son in a hug.

“Welcome home, Jerry,” she said into her son’s shoulder – Jerry was taller than her, now, but he was also taller than most of their cabin and several other campers besides, so Yan wasn’t surprised at that, even though they remembered seeing Jerry so small in his mother’s embrace when they’d parted.  Brown eyes, light like her son’s, flickered to look at Yan over Jerry’s shoulder.  “And you, too, Yan!  Make yourself at home, you remember the drill!”

Truthfully, Yan had only actually been to Jerry’s home a scattered handful of times during their last stay in England.  Being the year above him at school had left them with no reason to interact at all, until the monster attack that changed everything, starting with bringing the two of them together.  Still, they slipped off their shoes and nudged them into the corner by the door, and made sure the front door was shut behind them.

Unsurprisingly, Jerry had yet to make a start on getting himself comfortable, too busy embracing his mother, and Yan decided to slip past them to give them some privacy for their reunion.  They let their bag – lightweight, easy to run with, nothing to drop accidentally – fall to the floor next to Jerry’s and padded down the hallway in socked feet until they found their way into the kitchen.

Jerry’s mother had been baking.  That didn’t surprise Yan at all – Jerry had never been silent about his mother’s baking prowess, and there had been flecks of white powder on her cheek when she’d come to greet them.  She was a stress baker, Jerry had said many times, and given her day job, Yan’s younger brother had all but grown up on cakes for the first twelve years of his life.

Yan wasn’t sure if the spread of cakes was a stress response or a British hospitality thing – or a mix of the two, which felt like the safest bet if pressed – but it was magnificent and varied.  Jerry was a glutton for sweet stuff, and had regaled Yan with many stories of his mother’s baking prowess over the years, so Yan didn’t think there was any risk of it going to waste.

But even with Jerry’s bottomless stomach, Yan estimated it would take them several days to consume all of the evidence.

“Take a bite,” Jerry’s mother coached, just about out of sight but certainly close enough to notice their invasion of her kitchen.  “No point standing on ceremony here.  Not in my house, Yan.  And get yourself a drink – there’s squash in the cupboard by the oven.”

“Can I have a bite?” Jerry demanded from behind her.  “Mum.”  He peered further into the kitchen and his eyes widened, highlighting exactly which parent he’d inherited the colour and shape from.  “Mum- is that a cheesecake?”

“Black forest,” she replied proudly, throwing her chest out a little.  “Go ahead kids, I know you love it.”

Jerry certainly needed no convincing, digging in with a cry about how his mother was the best, and Yan wasn’t about to turn down a homemade cheesecake, either.  Camp food was good but it wasn’t this.

They did remember their manners, though, giving her a quiet but heartfelt, “thanks,” before they elbowed Jerry out of the way – the hog would have eaten the whole thing if they hadn’t, a lesson learnt the hard way one time at camp when there had been exactly one cake, and one very hungry Jeremy Allen with no concept of sharing – to liberate their own generous slice.

Jerry’s mother watched them with a soft look on her face.  “Welcome back,” she said again, softly this time, and Yan echoed Jerry’s immediate response with ease.

“It’s good to be back.”

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril2024 #tsari writes fanfiction #toa yan #toa jerry #jerry's mum

[conanssummerchild]

jerry crying and rick making a face and backing away, he was so real for that 😭😭

#ignore my mum talking in the background #alex says shit #rick and morty #rick sanchez #jerry smith #autistic rick sanchez

[thejumbers]

i just really want beth and jerry to out loud acknowledge how they’ve hurt morty. like im all for them acting and treating him better but i want them to SAY that they fucked up and APOLOGISE like the boy has gotten so much shit. of  course rick as well but it feels different? like we KNOW rick hurts morty thats the whole show i just dont want specifically beth to act like she hasnt put herself, rick, summer, everyone over morty a million times because she resented him for being jerrys son

#i just have a lot of ffeelings #rick and morty #morty smith #beth smith #idk if this comes off how i want it to im bad at words hahaa #jerry feels like a sterotypically terrible teen dad but it is clear hes trying out of love for morty #beth feels like shes trying because she doesnt want to look like a bad mum because she chooses her comfort over her kids safety over and ove

[galaxywarrioress1234]

HOPEFULLY now they'll cool it with the incest jokes, but I gotta admit I was on the floor laughing at Jerry reading his fortune originally ckfkdld

#rick and morty #it was such a WHIPLASH it got me alright #as for the bit near the end involving jerry and his mum i didn't even watch it was SP UNCOMFORTABLE #beth and space beth can date but that's IT NOW DAN AND JUSTIN OKAY #rick sanchez #jerry smith

[tw0-facee]

i say this eating pure innocent childhood joy in ice cream form

#ben and jerrys #god damn its so good #it’s the best flavour #yummiest stuff #fight me #wait no #don’t fight me please #i’m weak #i am a simpleton who likes ben and jerrys #if you fight me #i’ll tell my mum and she’ll tell your mum #help #how does tumblr work

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

A Game Of Cat And Mouse

Leona Kingscholar and Che’nya x Fem!Jerry Mouse!Reader 

Note: Reader is Yuu/The magicless Ramshackle Prefect from another world

I have a ton of WIPs that I really want to complete but to help motivate myself to finish them I decided to write this

So Jerry’s personality seems to fluctuate depending on his iteration so I’m just going to tone down his more sadistic tendencies and make him more like the early shorts where he’s more mischievous and acts when provoked instead of going out of his way to ruin Tom’s life for no reason. 

Honestly as a Tom girlie I felt so sorry for Thomas. There were times where that poor cat did not deserve what he went through - even when I was little I would root for him. Though this might just be an oldest child thing since my little sister and mum (who’s the youngest in her family) prefer Jerry.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR 

Honestly, his first impression of you wasn’t the best. Yeah, you’re a girl and he chugs gallons of respecting women juice for every meal but come on - you’re this tiny little mousegirl from another world who can’t even do magic (not to mention that he’s heard rumours that you don’t even speak that much). You’ll get eaten alive!

Then he met you and all of that went down the drain

The meeting went as it usually does: you stepped on his tail, he angrily confronts you (whilst subtly warning you of the dangers of NRC) but then you just give him this flat, unamused look.

“Hey pussycat,” you deadpan, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as you jut your chin up so you level him with a glare, “maybe don’t go leaving your tail lying around everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.”

Okay, so maybe you weren’t the meek little mouse that he thought you were. Even the predators in his dorm don’t have the guts to talk back to him. Honestly, respect.

Then word gets out that you defeated an overblot and his opinion of you gets more and more favourable.

Long story short, you start dating after his overblot.

And it does cause a few turned heads.

And who can blame them? A lion going out with a mouse. That’s definitely something.

And to the untrained eye, it does sound concerning. But to those who know you (read: have been around you for more than five minutes)? Well, they’re praying for Leona’s sanity because you are nothing more than an agent of chaos.

There was this one time before you and Leona got together where a bunch of Savanaclaw predators were trying to push you, Ace, Deuce and Grim around and without even blinking you just pummelled all of them right then and there. At one point during the curb stomp battle you just pulled a mallet out of nowhere and just started thrashing everyone until they were black and blue. 

Congratulations the entire Savanaclaw dorm is terrified of you

All that training with Big Cousin Muscles really does wonders

NRC have two new rules: 1) don’t even think about going after the nagicless prefect because you will lose and even if you try to use magic she will dodge and it will be your funeral and 2) DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES hurt Ace, Deuce or Grim because that will probably be the last thing you ever do (memories of Jerry completely annihilating Tom after he hurt Nibbles are resurfacing)

One thing he admires about you is your cunning and intelligence and how you’re always a step ahead of everyone no matter what their plans are. Even when you do find yourself in trouble 

Even Rook Hunt has trouble trying to catch you. Don’t worry though, he’s far too fond of ‘petite mademoiselle souris’ to be irked by that.

He does get jealous of how close you are with Ruggie though. Since the hyena is also a greedy little thieving bugger like you, you have found a kindred spirit in him. The two of you bond over raiding the NRC kitchen and making off with as much as you can. And also taking the mickey out of Leona.

 You also get along great with Cheka. He’s noticed that you have a soft spot for children and other animals. The pro is that he gets his nephew off of his back by pawing him off to you (who he knows will make sure that no harm will come to him) the con is that you get along too well and your chaotic natures mixing will probably send him to an early grave - if your mischievous and provoking nature doesn’t already.

One thing he loves to do is tease you over your mouse-like qualities. Yeah, anyone with eyes can tell that you’re nowhere near as innocent as you look but those mouse ears, wide eyes, squeaks and cute little tail are objectively and indisputably adorable. He takes great pleasure in telling you how cute ‘his little mouse’ is, especially when you give such sweet reactions when you're flustered.

Though he does get taken aback by how bold you are. You definitely did that thing Jerry does where he holds mistletoe above his head and made kissing noises at Tom.

Your high pitched laugh makes his heart melt and he definitely uses his rich boy money to buy you all of the expensive cheese you can eat.

CHE’NYA

He loves you so much. Finally, someone he can be chaotic with - you’re a match made in hell.

His interest in you starts when he tries to sneak up on you whilst invisible but you pull one over him and just turn around, look directly into his unseeable eyes and sprAY WATER RIGHT ONTO HIS FACE-WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT SPRAY BOTTLE FROM????

At first he was pleasantly surprised before his face broke into a Cheshire Cat grin. He felt cupid’s arrow hit him square in the chest and he just looked at you with heart eyes.

By asking Trey and Cater and hiding in the rose maze, he gathered enough information to decide that you are his future wife

Turns out that your troublemaking antics have you paired with Ace and Floyd for the position of ‘bane of Riddle Rosehearts’ existence’. Mainly because everytime you break a rule you always, without fail, evade punishment by avoiding getting caught - even when you are clearly the culprit

Trey has bribed you with so many cheese based baked goods to stop you from sneaking into Heartslabyul and causing mayhem (you felt sorry for him so you promised him that you’ll only steal from the main kitchen near the cafeteria. That’s not what he meant but he’ll take it)

One day he catches you kidnapping the dorm’s pet dormouse before an unbirthday party so that you ‘can help your fellow mice by freeing them from their subjugation’. He shrugs and nods in understanding before asking you if he should let out the flamingos and hedgehogs from their pens as a distraction. 

And so a beautiful relationship was born as the two of you ran off with a tray of choux pastries and a bunch of angry card soldiers chasing you.

The two of you have a competition over who can sneak into and stay in Heartslabyul the longest without getting caught and you’re currently the winner.

He loves that you’re not scared of anyone and you’re not afraid to stand up to people that are almost quadruple your size. In fact, he’s there cheering you on whenever you fight back or plot your revenge (he does know that he has a whole other school to attend, right?). One time you showed him one of your revenge plans and he even helped you set the traps and everything. Oh the two of you working together has NRC running for the hills.

Like Leona, he does like to tease you but what do you expect? He’s a cat, you’re a mouse - that’s nature. Though he does love the fact that you’re always one step ahead of him whenever he does try to outsmart you. He loves a good puzzle and you certainly keep him on his toes.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #che'nya x reader #fem reader

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ch.1

tags: rick sanchez x reader, love triangle, rick being rick, rick being mean af as usual, age gap, it will get dark, angst, double ended - you decide it, some chps will be smut, slow burn, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour this chapter: rick sanchez x reader, rick being mean, sfw with some sexual indications word count: 1750

“Listen to me, you bi-bitch. I am not doing this for you, got-got it? I was challenged by someone, and I am not someone who loses and if you spoiled bitch call me an old man again, I’ll make you scream it, understand?”

„What-what the actual fuck is this?!“

The whole Smith family was staring at the most recent weird event in their living room. A girl lying on their floor, alone and unconscious. It was obvious that she wasn’t an alien – judging by her appearance. Summer was focused on her outfit, Beth was checking if she still had a pulse and Jerry was being Jerry (useless).

“Morty – Morty you disgusting little shit! Did you buy a girl from space? Fucking pervert. I’m going to kill you!”, Rick’s voice echoed through the room, spit dripping from his mouth. His grandson instantly denied the accusations vehemently, saying that he is a pervert but not that kind of pervert. Rick was angry, furious even, someone like him – the smartest man alive – didn’t have time for shit like this.

“Um…Dad?”, Beth was holding a piece of paper in her hand instead of her usual glass of red wine, “It’s for you.”

“Wow, Grandpa Rick, maybe you were the one buying some girl like some creep.”

Rick narrowed his eyes at Summer’s remark. As if he would ever need to buy a girl at all. “Shut the fuck up, Summer, before I tell your mum where you hide your sh-shit.” That was enough to shut the redhead up and earn a disapproving look from Beth.

Quickly Rick snatched the note from his daughter’s fingers. A note – something so traditional…weirdly interesting.

Hello Rick C-137, Probably asking yourself why some girl is lying on your floor and why you’re reading a note right now. I’m not going to tell you shit though. Aren’t you the “smartest man” alive? The “rickest Rick”? You’re nothing more than an experiment to me and a dumber version of me anyway. I won’t tell you why she is in your dimension and your universe. I won’t tell you what experiment and what you should or should not achieve. Fuck, I won’t even tell you who she is or where she originated from. I also made sure that you won’t be able to track where she came from and on top of that you will never know who I actually am. Wait until she wakes up or wake her up yourself. I know damn well I piqued your interest, C-137.

He was right. The note did pique his interest, but it also pissed him off. Obviously, it was another Rick – an arrogant motherfucker who challenged Rick. “For f-fuck’s sake. What fucking bullshit is this”, his pale hand dragged down his face before he knelt down, right next to the stranger’s face.

“Wake the fuck u-up, dumb bitch. How can-can you sleep with everyone screaming.”

Dumb Bitch…Those words echoed through your head, jerking you awake. Who was this disrespectful to call you that? You blinked several times, the light from the lamps blinding you.

“O my God, Dad! She’s waking up.”

“Oh geez…I don’t think this is goi-going to end good.”

“I hope she’s cool like a new sister or something, Morty is like so annoying.”

Who was talking? Slowly your eyes adjusted to the new surroundings, and you were met with some old man staring into your soul. His scent was a mixture of alcohol, musk and after-shave. Not a bad smell at all.

“What…Where am I and who the fuck are you, old man?!”, the first thing you did was check your body. Missing limbs? Naked? Bruises? Chained up? No, everything seemed fine yet at the same time nothing was fine.

Your head felt like it was exploding, as if a belt was strapped around it and getting tighter and tighter. The room was unfamiliar just like the people around you. Everyone was screaming. Strangers. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Did they drug me? Your mouth was dry, as if you haven’t drunk any water in days. Did they kidnap me? Thousands of thoughts flooded your brain, and no answer was in sight. The room shrank and shrank and shrank. Why is everyone yelling? Who are these people? Where am I? I can’t breathe! I can’t- 

Rick injected a needle into your neck, pushing a milky liquid into your system. You were having a panic-attack, and he didn’t have the nerves to deal with anymore shit thrown his way. Almost instantly the girl in front of his feet stopped shaking, your breath calmed down as well as your excessive sweating. Meanwhile Rick took a long look at you – you weren’t dirty or anything, the opposite in fact. Your hair was clean and shining while your clothes were spotless and on top of that you smelled phenomenal. A rich vanilla with an undertone of cherry, sweet and sultry. 

“Wh-What did you in-inject her with, Rick?”

“Relax, Morty”, Rick rolled his eyes, “Just didn’t – didn’t want her to lose her shit. Give her a minute, we’ll be able to talk to her then.” Only Rick and the grandkids were left with you now. Beth had to go to work and Jerry was simply overstimulated, not being able to comprehend anything that happened in front of his eyes.

You took a deep breath and sat up; your eyes never left the tall, skinny frame of the older man. “Who are you guys…?”, your voice was timid, but your stare was stern.

“Rick, Morty, Summer. Y-You’re at our house. Don’t ask us why, you were probably tele-teleported here from someone who looks like me. We don’t know shit about you either, dumbass. Do we look like some human-traffickers to you? Another fucking dumbass.”

Suddenly it clicked – Rick Sanchez. You’ve seen his face all over the news again and again. Some mad scientist who was known for teleportation, universes and interdimensional traveling. And he was a fucking asshole. Morty and Summer were his grandkids. At least I know who they are.

“Now, tell me who you are”, Rick reached out and cupped your chin with his calloused fingers. His fingertips felt rough against your soft skin, you felt warmth creep up to your cheeks and spread across your face. With a hiss you slapped his hand away.

“My name is y/n. I’m 21 years old and a psych major at college. I will also be known as the girl who castrated you if you touch me again, old man.”

The last part earned a chuckle from Morty and Summer “Oh, Grandpa Rick got burned! I love you already, girl!” Their joy was short-lived though. Rick yelled at both of them, insulting them every way possible, demanding them to leave the fucking room before he feeds them to his alien-prisoners. Both complied to his command.

“F-fucking listen to me you wannabe mean girl bi-bitch. Some other Rick left a note-note for me, talking about some dumb ass experiment. What happened before you ended up here? Do you even know where you live or you wanna share a bed with this o-old man?”

“I live in….huh…Where do I live? I remember who I am but not a single thing about a family or a living space”, no matter how hard you tried you didn’t actually remember anything about your own life, “The last I recall before waking up is someone saying, “Last Chance, Sweetheart” and that someone sounded exactly like you.”

“For fuck-fuck’s sake! I’m going crazy! I’m going to kill that motherfucking R-Rick!”

Two hours. Two hours passed and Rick tried everything to at least receive a single type of information, just anything. Nothing. Nothing worked. He tried to trace you back to your original universe – apparently you didn’t belong to any. He tried to find other versions of you – a big red error appeared. He couldn’t even extract past memories from your brain. Literally nothing has worked. He failed. Rick Sanchez, the smartest man on earth, failed.

“You know, maybe some memories will come back to me after some time. You don’t have to be yelling all the time…”, you were sitting on a chair, your elbows propped on his workbench and your hands cupping your face. Rick was in fact a weird guy – loud, rude but determined. After hours of listening to his drunken outbursts you just wanted some peace and quiet. Due to Rick kind of being famous on the internet you knew a thing or two about him and what his work was about. “I know you mean well and your actions could help me go back home…if I have a home, that is. You still need to chill though, old man.”

Once again you called Rick an old man. Is that girl serious? “You dumb little…”, you heard him growl as he turned around to face you. The burping, belching genius known was anything but amused. His typically wry grin twisted into a snarl of pure contempt, revealing a glint of madness in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

The furrows on his forehead deepened, accentuating the lines of his craggy face as he scowled, his brows knit together in a storm of frustration. His eyes, usually glazed with a combination of apathy and brilliance, now burned with a fiery intensity that could rival the brightest supernova in the universe.

“Listen to me, you bi-bitch. I am not doing this for you, got-got it? I was challenged by someone, and I am not someone who loses”, Rick made his way over to you. Slowly, like a predator nearing his prey. His hand gripped your chair to make you face him. You felt yourself push back into the seat. He was too close and you two were all alone in his garage. One hand was now next to your head while the other was gripping your thigh. You could feel his breath blowing against your now hot, blushed face, his musk clouding your senses, his hand burning into your skin. “And if you spoiled bitch call me an old man again, I’ll make you scream it, understand?”

“Listen to me, Rick old man Sanchez. I’m neither spoiled nor a bitch. And your pathetic attempt of whatever this is isn’t working.” Harsh words which didn’t match your bright red cheeks or beating heart. Your own body was betraying you. “Fuck you and fuck this garage. I’m going to chill with your grandkids.”

A smirk grazed Rick’s lips as you stood up and left without looking back. Interesting. Who knew that embarrassing you would be that much fun? You’re feisty, witty and bratty and not a bad sight to the eye.

“Ah, makes me want to tame that little girl.”

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 #rick sanchez x reader #rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x self insert #rick x reader #rick x you #rick x y/n #rick sanchez x you #rick sanchez x y/n

[darkbluekies]

Hi! spicy arab dad anon back from the dead

I’m back with news, my mum has now been introduced to your writings and she is obsessed with Jerry (and hedwig but mostly Jerry)

She said that Jerry was “A tall glass of water” whatever that means, she speaks English better than me😒

And she would like to know if Jerry would like traditional Iraqi food like Masgouf, dolma and Tashreeb stuff like that.

My dad is still obsessed with Silas, we’ve been fasting for Ramadan and it’s made the obsession worse, he’s started asking my mum for foods that she thinks Silas would like during suhoor

do you know how fucking happy i am seeing you again?!

gasp do we have spicy arab mom now too???????? Jerry would absolutely love some Iraqi food, this girl eats and loves everything. She will sit her ass down until your mom is done stuffing her with food and she will thank her for every single bite. This is probably the nicest you'll ever see Jerry in your entire life.

your dad is an icon, tell him that i love him. Silas would love anything steak, but if that's not in the picture, he is open to try anything, honestly! Just make sure there's a lot of spices, he's not a fan of bland food hehehe

#spicy arab dad anon

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

do you.. have mike headcanons…?

Mikey <33

He really mellows out after he accidentally kills Nate. All his rebelliousness gone.

He actually really needs glasses but he refuses to wear them.

He has this deeprooted desire to make his dad happy and that's hightened by how Nate's death fucks him up for a bit- Mike feels like he needs to make it up to him.

Cus of this he helps his dad out a LOT. Hiding him from the police, going on the run with him, working at Freddy's cus he can't ect.

While this is going on he calls his mum once a week but has to lie through his teeth to her which makes him feel awful but he's a great liar so.

He met Jeremy through his mum cus she did his tattoos. They hung out after Mike's last friend group fell appart.

Mike doesn't see him for YEARS after the bite because he's kiiinda responsible for it (he tampered with the facial recognition in the toys) and he doesn't want to face the consequences of his actions.

Jerry seeks him out after he gets scooped and his acceptance and forgiveness of him is what gets Mikey out of the stupor being turned into a zombie gave him.

After like a decade of being a zombie he's pretty okay with it, all things concidered. Not saying he'd choose to be an undead creature of the night but he's way more comfortable than you'd expect.

A lot of that comes from Jerry being REALLY into the fact he's a zombie, actually. Finding self love through the love of others.

It's also important with me that Mikey rolls with the punches life throws at him. Just so many punches but he gets up again anyways.

#mikey <333 #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #yelling about the bear #asks #glitch-1983 #michael afton #child death #william afton #jeremy fitzgerald #mrs afton #body horror #long post #fazgoodles

[youaintnothinbuta]

Worried About You - Elvis (DDM)

If you don’t feel comfortable/don’t want to imagine Elvis as your father, DON’T read!!

Disclaimer: Y/N’s mother in this fic does not have to be Priscilla unless you choose for it to be read that way. Y/N’s mother is never named.

Summary: Elvis is your father. Your mother has been treating you a lot older than you are, and he’s worried about you and the things your mother is doing when he’s not around.

Pairing: Daughter!Y/N x Father!Elvis or Austin!Elvis)

Word count: 797

Warnings: DDM (daddy daughter moments), argument, divorced parents. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and your mom had just driven through the gates of Graceland, your fathers house, dropping you off for your week with your dad. He welcomed the pair of you in, you sprinting out of the car, leaping into his arms, he kissed you on the cheek hello and put you down, to give your mum a hug, too. Though your parents were divorced, they made a real effort to stay friends for you. However, that was becoming increasingly difficult for Elvis, as he had noticed changes in your behaviour each and every time you came back from your moms house. It was starting to worry him. Not to mention, he was stunned at the amount of fabric, or lack thereof, that your dress was made of.

“Y/M/N, can I talk to you?” He skipped saying hello. Jerry, who was at the house with Elvis, took your hand and walked with you up to your bedroom, giving your parents some time alone.

“What’s up?”

“Did our daughter have four birthdays in the week she was with you? What the hell are you doing to her?”

“How’d you know she isn’t just choosing to dress like that herself?”

“Well, I sure as hell know my eleven year old ain’t got a date tonight.” Your dad raised his voice at your mom.

“Elvis, don’t make this a big deal, she liked some of my clothes, so I said she could have them. It’s normal—“

“Normal? Normal? She’s a child. You’re an adult. What the hell were you thinking?” Your dad was getting angry now.

“I don’t know what to tell you. She was curious!” Your mom argued.

“So you couldn’t tell her that she’s too young? She’s not even a teenager, Y/M/N, come on.” He pressed his fingers to his forehead.

“Why are you so worried?”

“Why does it seem like every time you bring her back her she’s aged another 5 years? She’s a kid for gods sake.”

“Elvis—“ your mom sighed.

“No. Don’t give me that. Every god damn time you bring her back here I gotta answer questions about boys— about you and me— about being a—“

“She’s growing up. You can’t stop that.”

“Oh lord, lay off, okay? Do you seriously not see the problem? I’m sick of trying to parent the kid alone, can you take a little responsibility and stop treating her like your doll?”

“Did you seriously just say that to me?” Your mom was in disbelief.

Though, he had a point.

“What’s her best friends name?” Elvis asked, his arms folded across his chest.

“Chelsea.” Your mom hesitated.

“Taylor. It’s Taylor.”

“So? She’s got lots of friends. What’s your point, Elvis?”

“You don’t even know the kid, Y/M/N. What’s her favourite food? What’s her favourite subject? What’s her teachers name? Do you know?”

Your dad really worried for you. You were his pride and joy. He worried about you constantly when you were with your mom, are you being fed enough? Are you getting enough sleep? Do you get to play and be a kid like you do with him? Whats she doing that’s making you seem so grown up?

He knew your mother was seeing other men, he just didn’t know, to what extent you were seeing of these other men.

He really didn’t want to have to challenge her for custody, because that would get ugly and, honestly, very rare the dad ever wins.

Your mom stayed silent.

Elvis took a deep breath, “she’s not a mini you, she’s her own person, and that person is a kid, Y/M/N. Why can’t you understand that?”

Before your mom could speak, he began again.

“I’m not asking you for me. For her, Y/M/N, I can’t raise this kid alone. I feel like I’m on damage control, ya know that? You want your kid to be happily married with a family or you want her running the streets every night, huh? I’m telling ya, honey, the way it’s going right now she’s gon be no more married happily than you and I.”

Your mom was flabbergasted, gobsmacked, even.

“I— I can’t have this conversation with you right now.” Your mom managed to choke out, quickly leaving out the front door.

Elvis sighed and shut his eyes for a moment, having watched his ex-wife leave. He went upstairs, properly greeting you with a hug, as you jumped up into his arms once again, just excited to be home, “Daddy! Can we take the horses for a ride?”

“Sure, honey.” He smiled, putting you down, holding the back of your head gently before you started tearing apart your bedroom to find your riding helmet and boots. It was dawning on him that fighting for custody of you may be in his near future.

#austin butler #austinbutler #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis x y/n #austin x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis #ddm #daddy daughter moments #father #dad #Elvis is your dad

[tsarisfanfiction]

Leaving Home

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Jerry, Yan, Jerry's Mum It's a long way from London to New York, and an even longer way when it means leaving behind your family. At least Jerry still had Yan, though. TOApril day 4 - Facing the Unknown, and I continue to write about the youngest canon Apollo kids, apparently. Given how little we know about them, this is of course completely full of headcanons. I have spent entirely too much time thinking about the logistics of a London kid and a Hong Kong kid ending up at Camp, whoops... And am I relishing writing a canonically British kid and not having to overthink whether or not an American kid would say that? Of course not, why would you ever think that? (Yes, yes I am)

Heathrow Airport was huge.  Jerry was a born and bred Londoner; crowds didn’t bother him, and while he knew to keep his few valuables – wallet, passport – hidden away beneath layers of clothing where it wasn’t going to get lost or stolen, he had no fear of bodies pressing against him as they rushed past on their way to wherever they were trying to get to.

Jerry wasn’t rushing.  He didn’t want to rush, because this was scary.

Not the crowds at the airport.  That wasn’t scary.  Jerry was used to crowds, grew up with them, knew how to dart through bodies to get where he needed to be.

He gripped his mum’s hand more tightly as he watched his suitcase – it was huge and heavy and also far, far, too small – trundle down the conveyor belt to get eaten by the thick dangling plastic strips and disappear from sight.  It started to feel real, now, and Jerry’s stomach was churning because he didn’t want it to be real.

It had been scary when the thing had attacked him, all claws and teeth and dangerous, and he laughed about the old janitor with a limp battering the thing away with a sopping wet mop when he thought about it, because that was funny.  A monster wanting to kill him and only not killing him because the janitor was actually a satyr like Mr Tumnus from that book his junior school had forced him to read, except this Mr Tumnus was a good fighter and something about his mop had made the monster explode into dust, was scary.

Even if the satyr thing was sort of cool.

No amount of satyr Mr Tumnus coolness (except Mr Tumnus was not cool, Jerry hadn’t really liked him, but then he hadn’t really liked the book, anyway.  Peter with his sword was pretty cool, and some of the creatures were, but Lucy was annoying and Edmund was stupid and he didn’t even remember the name of the other girl) could make up for this, though.  One too-big but also too-small suitcase full of all his favourite clothes and cricket bat and mum’s ball and crowds in an airport, and holding his mum’s hand tightly as though he was a baby.

Jerry didn’t want to leave.  He didn’t want to go to America, or New York, or whatever the name of the camp he was being sent to was.  He wanted to stay in London, watch Middlesex’s next match at Lords because he knew Grandma had promised Mum to buy him tickets, play with his friends, and keep training to be the England captain when he was grown up.

He couldn’t be England’s captain if he wasn’t even in England!

Stupid monsters attacking him.  Stupid camp in America he had to go to.  Mum wasn’t happy about it, either, but she’d been firm when he’d tried to tell her he wasn’t going.  He’d eavesdropped on her Skype calls with some bearded guy that apparently ran the camp, and she’d had a lot to say that didn’t sound happy, but she was still sending him away.

Jerry had tried every trick he could think of to not go, but now all his favourite stuff was going on the plane – all his favourite stuff except his mum – it was all real and big boys don’t cry but Jerry wanted to so badly.

The stupid airport had barely anything to do.  It had crowds everywhere but they were all queues, either for the Costa Coffee that Mum had taken him to earlier, letting him have a triple chocolate muffin for breakfast, or for the big metal arches that everyone had to go through one at a time.

Everyone who was going on a plane, anyway.

Those metal arches were where Jerry was going to have to say goodbye.

They were where Mum was guiding him now, looking at her watch and then the departure boards.  Jerry didn’t get what the rush was – it was still hours until that stupid plane to New York took off – but she was acting like they were running out of time and he needed time to stop, go backwards, make it so that this didn’t happen at all.

Yan appeared next to him, with just their backback slung over one shoulder carelessly now their own big case had also been munched by the heavy plastic strips.  Mum didn’t let Jerry wear his like that, and Jerry knew better, anyway.  Yan had lived in London for a year but they still hadn’t worked out that being careless with bags was stupid.

Jerry liked the older kid.  They didn’t make fun of him for not being able to spell, or for caring more about cricket than school (who cared about school more than cricket, anyway?).  He hadn’t known them very long, because they were in the year above him and the older years didn’t mix with the younger years, but he’d met them a few times in the gym, and on the playing ground at lunch time.  They were good with throwing a ball, and good at batting, too, even if they still refused to admit cricket was the best sport in the world.

They’d also been there when he was attacked.

When they were attacked, because Jerry wasn’t the only one being forced on a plane to stupid America-New-York-Camp-Stupid, but Yan didn’t seem to care much.

But Yan’s mum was back in Hong Kong and Jerry didn’t think they’d spoken to her much since they’d arrived in England.  They hadn’t said much about why they were in London without their mum, why they called the adults they lived with Mr and Mrs with manners and nothing else, but Jerry thought this wasn’t the first time they’d been told they had to go move elsewhere.

Yan didn’t say stupid things like “you’ll enjoy it” or “you won’t even miss England once you’re there” or any of the other things Mum had tried to say, and not-Mr-Tumnus had tried to say.  Yan didn’t say anything at all on the topic, agreeing with him that America was full of heathens that didn’t understand how to play a perfectly good game instead.

At least he was going with Yan, if he had to go with anyone, Jerry supposed.  Yan was pretty cool.

The man that met them near the metal gates had a big smile and sharp cheekbones.  His ears were kinda pointy, which was weird but also cool.  Jerry hadn’t known people could have pointy ears like that.  He wore a smart dark blue suit and a colourful red, dark blue and white tie, which looked a lot like the sorts of things the flight attendants wore on the billboards.

“Hey there, kids,” he said, and he had a weird accent, mostly British but with a little bit of a twang when he said hey.  “My name’s Geoff and I’ll be looking after you guys until we meet with your escort Stateside.”

Jerry didn’t want to go with him.  Going with him meant saying goodbye to Mum and he didn’t know when he would see her again, because she wouldn’t say when he asked!  All he knew was that this was because he got attacked, because his Dad had ways to keep him safe if he went to America that apparently couldn’t happen here, in London.

No-one had told him how Yan fit into this, exactly.  The older kid was looking at the flight attendant intently, before nodding.

“Yan,” they said.  “They/them.”

Jerry prepared to punch the guy if he said anything mean.  Almost everyone at school, including the teachers, and insisted on calling Yan he for stupid reasons like “you’re a boy,” when Yan wasn’t, and not-Mr-Tumnus had been one of the few cool adults that didn’t.

The guy didn’t say anything stupid, though.  “Neat!” he said instead, “thanks for telling me.  You okay with ‘guys’ or do you want me to drop that?”  He didn’t even sound sarcastic, and Jerry saw Yan relax a little.

“Guys is fine,” they said, and Jerry saw them grin, a little bit.  They liked this guy, he realised, and that meant he couldn’t be mean to him, because Yan didn’t like many people.

“I’m Jerry,” he said, and because Yan had, he added, “he/him.”

They got another grin from Geoff.  “He/him for me, too,” he said, a bit late but it was better than pretty much everyone else.  “We’ve got to tackle security soon,” he added, and Jerry frowned, because that meant leaving.  Geoff put a hand on his shoulder and he wanted to snap at him to mind his space, but there was a look in his eyes that made Jerry falter.

“I-” he started, and to his horror he started crying after all.

Mum grabbed him in a tight hug.  “Oh Jerry,” she said, and her voice was shaky.  “You’re so brave.  Get Chiron to call me when you arrive, and screw the timezones.  I expect you to Skype me regularly, okay?”

She’d said all of that before, back before Jerry had had to say goodbye to his bedroom and its weirdly bare walls.  His posters were carefully rolled up in his too-big-too-small suitcase, too.  Jerry had already promised all of that, but he promised it again, sobbing and trying not to feel like a baby.

Yan and Geoff had walked away a few steps, he discovered when Mum finally pulled back, but not after leaving a disgustingly wet kiss on his forehead.  “I love you, Jerry,” she told him firmly.  “Never doubt that.”

“Love you too, Mummy,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve because he was not a crybaby.  Yan’s host family had left them at the entrance as soon as they’d seen him and Mum, and Yan had simply shook their hands and thanked them for letting them live under their roof for the past year.  They hadn’t cried.

He didn’t know if they had when they’d left their mum, though.  Maybe they had.

Maybe Jerry would be brave enough to ask, one day.

“Ready to go on your adventure?” Geoff asked him, and Jerry wasn’t but Yan was waiting for him and he was done being a crybaby.

“I’m coming,” he said, and gave Mum one last, tight squeeze around the middle, before he straightened his back and walked away.

Yan slipped their hand into his and squeezed it lightly.  Boys didn’t hold hands, but Yan wasn’t a boy so that was fine.  Jerry squeezed it back, tighter.

He was still terrified, but he could be brave.  He wiped his eyes furiously as Yan and Geoff led him towards the metal arch and once he was certain they were dry he turned around.

Mum was crying, but she was smiling, too, and he waved at her, not stopping until Yan led him around a corner and he lost sight of her.

“It’s rough,” Geoff said as he directed them into putting their backpacks and coats into deep plastic trays, and made them take their shoes off.  He did the same thing.  “I was about your age when I had to move to the States without my Mum, too.  Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not brave for doing it, because it’s hard and by the gods we deserve medals for that.”

Yan snorted.  “I want two medals, then,” they said.

Geoff grinned.  “I’ll see what I can manage,” he promised.  “Now, through the box you go, then we’ll go watch the planes come in from the VIP lounge until ours gets here.  How does that sound, guys?”

VIP lounge.  Jerry supposed he liked the sound of that, at least.

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfiction #toapril #toapril 2024 #tsari writes fanfiction #toa jerry #toa yan #toa jerry's mum #gwendolyn allen #geoff keys #original character

[xiaoluclair]

20. clumsy attempts at flirting for lestappen pretty please?

okay confession, i have no idea what clumsy flirting even is beyond accidentally knocking over an avalanche of canned jalapeños onto you and your crush in the middle of a bend and snap. so i have a feeling this probably is not quite clumsy flirting but also i did not want to let the flow get away from me so eeeeeeenjoy!(?)

clumsy flirting attempts // lestappen // [ rating: T ] word count: 2.5k . yeah. not beta read either or checked over very well 😁

Max opens his front door and steps on a green bean. It's lying a foot away from a litre Tupperware box of... Max squints. Green beans.

He gives the hallway a cursory glance, then hefts the box into the kitchen and shuts the window his sister must've opened before she left the evening before. Something about needing more fresh air. Whatever, thinks Max, and grabs a pen to tick get green beans off the to do list on the refrigerator. He's not trading pneumonia for a tablespoon of chilled plant piss.

"Hey." Dilara gives him a smile, little Jerry stood between her legs and intently jabbing at a Samsung screen. Some garbled trumpet plays whenever he presses it. "How much were the beans?"

"Beans?" asks Dilara. "Oh, for your shopping? Around nine euros for a pack from Vie Claire."

"And you had, what, nine hundred euros to spend?" laughs Max. "Can you text me your account details for money transfer? My mum would probably shunt my d— um, dining table if I let someone spend that much on me."

At first, Max thinks he is about to get a smack for nearly cursing a three year old's ears. Then Dilara says, "I think. I am not sure what you are talking about."

So Max paints the picture from this morning and little Jerry stops trying to break his mum's phone with his thumbs to listen too. "You were the only one I talked to about it," as the elevator doors open and the three of them spill out into the little lobby.

"Someone might have overheard?" offers Dilara.

"Piano has beans," little Jerry informs Max sagely and Max.

Max snaps his fingers and says, "Of course, thanks mate."

Because piano has beans. Duh.

Max does not so much forget the bean incident as have a million other things piled on top of it. And then it gets lost somewhere. Maybe under a cupboard, or shoved between the radiator and the wall.

"It is broken, I think," says Max. "And the plumber said he is not free until the twenty second, so I guess that is me in socks and coats for the next three days."

Peter makes a delighted sound, a very different reception to Max's earlier lamentings on the lack of cat food in stock. "Did I ever tell you how my wife and I met?"

"Yeah," says Max, "on Gwyneth Paltrow's second cousins's niece's friend's friend's yacht's coach."

"Really?" say Peter. "Wow, that must have been fun. But the other time we met was — can you guess?"

"No."

"When my plumbing broke, of course! She was my neighbor, said I could take the left side of her bed for sleeping because the guest room had a fresh coat of paint. Of course," his jaw makes a quaint leer, "there was not much sleeping at all."

"Lovely," says Max, "I am going to get more gin. Happy birthday again."

Cue the next evening, and the doorbell rings. The peephole shows a slightly stretched suit, slicked back brown hair into a dramatically wide ponytail. Max sets down the last of the bean casserole, opens the lock, loops out the chain.

"Hello," he greets politely.

The woman with, actually, a normal sized ponytail gives him a grin. "Broken radiator?" She picks up the handyman's box of utensils next to her foot. G. MANNI, reads the orange block along the side. "I've got you covered."

"Are you a friend of Peter's?" asks Max.

"Who?" she says.

"Just a— never mind." Max waves her in.

What a bewildering scenario, he thinks later as he tugs off the three pairs of socks from his feet.

The radiator scenario would probably have suffered the same fate as the beans if Max did not, only the next morning, find 7kg of cat food waiting on his doorstep.

"Like angels dancing on my eardrums," Arnaav is saying when Max goes to wish them. "I asked him to record me a song as a present as a joke and he actually said I could listen to a demo."

"Wow," says Gertrude, "you lucky thing, you."

"Arnaav," says Max, "congratulations."

Arnaav beams. "Thank you."

"What was it, three years? Four?"

"Five actually. Masters with industrial placement. A dockyard up in Andora, lots of very ripped Italian men."

Max grins. "That sounds very lovely."

"Of course," continues Arnaav, "it seems like very ripped men are closer to home than I remember."

Gertrude giggles at that. Max feels his eyebrows arch together.

Arnaav gestures them both to follow into the kitchen. "Seriously," they say as they pass Frankie tying up a bright blue sausage balloon into a bright blue sausage dog to little Jerry's delight, "do you think I should shoot a shot? There is no way a guy like that is single though."

They are looking at Max imploringly. Max says, "Go for it." Then, "Who are we talking about?"

Gertrude chokes mid-chew on a bite of grape and gouda. "Gamer boys," she sighs, "always stuck in their computers."

"For once, I agree." Arnaav shakes their head. "I would point him out, but he's at his brother's for the weekend."

Dilara and Mag come laughing in then. "Mag," says Gertrude urgently, "Max does not know about the new tenant."

Which is how Max finds out, in the following five minutes, that the hottest man on the planet (Dilara's words, not his) has apparently been living two floors down from him since early November.

"Always fingering his music into late hours of the night," says Mag with a flushed sigh. "Have you ever wanted to be music so bad."

"Okay," says Max, and he takes the bottle of vodka and chugs for a little while.

The scenarios keep scenarioing. Max finds a wheel of cheese and two pounds of tomatoes in the mail. A couple days later, thirteen rolls of cat-patterned wrapping paper to replenish his dwindling stock. Then a stack of coupons for free petrol refills at any Shell in France.

It comes to an apex when he gets called down to the lobby to pick up an €800 gaming headset. Max takes it back up to his apartment and leaves it by the couch while he unlocks his phone.

Whoever keeps buying me things, it is very kind but please stop.

It is pretty late, so Max does not expect any replies. Does this have anything to do with the beans? says Gertrude barely a minute after he has sent it.

I think so, says Max.

amx is being sent things? asks Peter. *max.

Do not be jealous peter, says Dilara, I am sure we can find you your own courter.

Max blinks. Courter?

Person who courts someone else. Gives them presents to woo them that sort of thing.

I do not have a courter.

Sure you don't ;D

I don't.

HEY, Arnaav comes barrelling in, SHUTU P AND LET ME ENJPY THE MISIC.

its very lovely, agrees Peter.

Hey, has anyone added Charles? asks Mag.

Max, who does not particularly care for any person named Charles at the moment, least of all whether or not they've been added or deleted, whacks up the heating on his way to bed. He is about to turn off the light when a smack sounds from the balcony. Sassy makes a petulant expression when Max turns on the outside light.

"Idiot cat," he tells her, then slides opens the door. Immediately, the lethargic sound of piano floods into his ears. Sassy slinks inside as Max blinks.

His phone buzzes again. Mag: God I want him to play me like that.

So apparently Max's entire apartment complex spends their nights having a massive orgy to the new guy playing the piano. Charles, he gathers, playing the piano.

Charles gets added to the WhatsApp group too, renamed JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING). His profile picture is black and white and contains three people, none of whom Max has seen before. He thinks they must be brothers.

not for thirsting? is the first thing Charles says. is this an inside joke i need to beg to be updated on? 😂. Max sees Mag is typing... pop up then disappear.

A few minutes later, he finds himself in a new WhatsApp group. JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING). Charles is not in this one. I'd make him beg, says Arnaav into it.

Same, says Mag, 💧.

Max thinks the exclusion is probably for the best.

He flies back in from iRacing contract negotiations a day before the Christmas Party. In the time left, he unpacks, laments to Dilara on the lack of green beans in store (“Christmas time,” she sympathizes), streams until two in the morning. Periodically checks his doorstep just in case. 

Everything is fine. Then he returns from another green–beanless escapade and on his mat, is a parcel. Inside the parcel, is a dark blue wooly sweater with an outrageously bright design of red and green animals and a manger on the front, yellow sheen emitting from the neck hole.

There is a note.

Merry Christmas x.

Max takes it in, puts it on. Stares at himself in the mirror. Takes it off, wraps it up, and leaves it on the torn parcel paper to return later. He can give the money to the New Year's party.

When he takes the elevator down to Dilara's apartment, he is immediately accosted by Gertrude and slightly less accosted by little Jerry. "Max!"

Mistletoe hangs from the ceiling. Max takes the kiss she plants on his mouth with his hands on her arms to make sure it does not turn into Human Bowling, then blows out a breath. "Do you know who keeps giving me shit?"

Gertrude's brow furrows. "The beans?"

"The same person, yeah." Max rubs his temple. "It is starting to piss me off. I asked them to stop and they have not."

"Maybe it is someone not in the building?"

"Unless they bugged the place, no." Max sighs. "It was always ridiculous but now it is even more ridiculous. The whole 'courting thing' too is just stupid."

Litter Jerry looks up, Samsung held slightly precariously in his chubby fingers. "What about—"

"Charles!" erupts Gertrude brightly, looking into the distance. Max twists on the spot but there's just empty hallway. The stairwell door swings a little. Gertrude sways on the spot slightly.

"Let's get you inside," says Max and herds her back into the celebrations. At the jerk of his head, little Jerry sighs a great sigh and ducks under his arm, back into the loud apartment.

Nothing. Max opens the door: nothing. Max enters the lobby: nothing. Max gets his mail: nothing.

Max gets on with his life. Nothing.

Max sits on the balcony at night and listens to the silence. He checks the messages on his phone. Maybe he broke his hands, muses Dilara.

both of them at the same time? says Peter.

I just saw him, reports Mag, in the elevator. His hands are fine. Really really fine.

Back in JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING), Charles simply says he has taken a break due to 'lack of inspiration'.

I will gladly inspire him, says Arnaav in JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING).

Not if I inspire him first, replies Mag.

Max keeps out of that one. Max keeps out of most of it, and: Nothing. The little Merry Christmas note stays in his nightstand and Max just. Forgets to take it out every single night. Whatever.

By the time Peter's New Year's party rolls around, life has settled and Max starts the year off drunk, happy, and listening to little Jerry toot Anaconda on the trumpet while next to him, Peter makes out with his new fiancée as of three seconds ago. Max has never seen her in his life.

The next morning is a slow one. For one, it is already eleven when Max cracks open his eyes. He rolls over. A chilled breeze stirs the hair on his arms.

He blames the alcohol for accepting that as he does. Getting out of bed, taking the wrong door to the bathroom and finding a closet instead. Taking the right door to the bathroom and the Palmolive soap has been replaced by a pot of L’Oreal Paris hair mask. 

Then the cold wind comes back again and Max peers past his headache to see the window cracked wide open. He looks back to the mirror. He is naked. 

“Shit,” says Max, with feeling.

A snore comes from the bedroom. Apparently Max bypassed an entire human being too. Stupid, useless alcohol. He’s going to go back to his place, take his stash of gin, chug it to forget this ever happened.

For now, he puts on his clothes. Rumpled, clearly discarded without much care. But on. Then he takes a look around. Lots of red. A centerpiece of fake roses sits atop an electric piano. The front door is the same as his. A shelf of photos over the TV contains the same three recurring men. In the corner of the kitchen, there is a large cardboard box held shut by a loaf of 50/50. Max moves it off and takes a peak. Inside is roughly two hundred bags of green beans.

The mop of brown hair forms a person eventually. Max has found an OralB tube by then and used his finger as a makeshift brush. 

"Morning," says Max when they arise.

Charles takes one look at him before falling back onto his pillow. "Shit."

Max spends the first afternoon of 2024 swallowing Aspirin and slightly burnt Eggos. Suffice to say, Charles is a terrible host. And yet Max is still here. Pretty privilege. Hottest man on the planet, remembers Max. Yeah, okay. 

He swallows, nods to the box in the corner and its counterpart bread loaf. “So were you the one stalking me?” 

Charles chokes on his protein smoothie, glowers. “I was not— stalking, I was just. Courting.”

“Courting,” echoes Max. “Dilara’s going to have a fit.”

Charles stares at him. He was not in the WhatsApp group at that point so he wouldn’t know. Real funny, Max thinks to the universe. Great planning. 

“So you, what,” he says, “bugged the building?”

“I just overheard sometimes,” says Charles. His cheeks are a vibrant, sick red. Fucking fresh air lovers. 

Max thumbs his own temple. “What do I owe you?”

“What?” asks Charles, stupidly handsome and stupidly stupid. His fingers wrapped around the bottle are messing up Max’s already messed up mind. 

“For all the shit you got me. If you say anything less than a thousand, I will know you’re lying so what do I owe you?”

A moment passes in which Charles blinks at him, Max realizes Jimmy and Sassy are probably upending the microwave, and Charles blinks some more. Then: “A date?”

“You are the worst flirter I have ever met in my life,” Max tells him sincerely. He slides off the stool and kisses him on the mouth. Charles drops the protein smoothie. The bottle breaks all over the floor. 

Max buys him sixteen more.

#fic: mv1.cl16 #f1 rpf #xiao: writes #lestappen #this got far too out of hand im sorry #it's just SILLY #ladies and gentleladies . it is just. silly. #i think bc it has general similarities with another fic that my wife let me braindump into whatsapp so i was already feeling the vibes #god bless same sex marriage etc etc

[billybennet]

You Belong With Me

James Maguire x reader

Summary: “The few weeks James has been with the group, he has somehow become very close with you. Little did the two of you know, you would become even closer than you thought.”

A/N: thank you to @decadenttrashcookiehero for requesting this!! Also FYI: reader is Erin's sister!

Masterlist

The sound of Erin’s complaining pierces your ears as you make your way downstairs to grab some food before school. It’s only the first day back and yet Erin has found more than one way to make the day terrible. First the mess she made in the upstairs bathroom, now this. You sigh, opting to focus on pouring yourself some cereal as opposed to listening to your family bicker. The sound of the tv being turned louder draws your attention, “There’s a bomb on the bridge? How are the kids gonna get to school?” your mum says, rubbing her forehead.

“Their bus can go the long way, relax Mary,” your dad assures.

Aunt Sarah enters the room and the chatter resumes as normal, granting you the peace to return to zoning out as you munch on your breakfast. 

“We better head out,” Erin informs, grabbing her jean jacket and pulling it on. You and Orla clean up your dishes quickly as your Mum begins nagging your twin sister about her jacket. “I’m not a clone, I should be able to express my individuality,” your sister argues, you roll your eyes, not bothering to get involved. “I’m sorry, I’m not wearing me blazer, end of story.”

“Jerry, pass me the wooden spoon,” you have to hold back a laugh as Erin hurries to take her jean jacket off and grabs her blazer, quickly tossing it on, rushing out the door. 

You walk alongside Orla on the way to Dennis’ Wee Shop, the two of you have long been the quietest of the group and often get grouped together. When Erin spots David outside as you’re leaving, you smile to yourself, this outta be good. Your sister walks towards him and begins laughing at nothing, scaring Claire who’s stood back beside you. “No way! Are you serious?” Erin asks no one at all.

“Erin, what are you doin’? Who are you talking to?” Claire exclaims, rushing forward.

This actually draws David’s attention to the two, “Erin, have you got a light?”

“Me? No, I don’t smoke,” Erin responds. 

Beside you, Orla digs in her pocket, fishing out a lighter, “I have one,” she tosses it his way, “I don’t smoke either, I just like meltin stuff.” 

David's head tilts in curiosity as he lights his cigarette, which you actually find kind of cute. Erin promptly ruins anything you felt though, her annoying voice cutting through your thoughts to ask him about his poster for his gig. You nudge Claire, pointing to your watch, she looks at her own, and rushes to pull Erin away, saying you were going to be late. 

“MOTHERFUCKAAAS” Michelle yells from behind you, tossing an arm over your shoulder when she reaches you, “Motherfucker, it’s my new thing, watched this film last night with me dad…” she trails off talking about the plot of the movie, you notice your sister and Claire looking disturbed to your left, and turn your head, almost jumping in surprise at the boy standing over your shoulder. 

“Who owns the fella?” Erin finally asks in a break of Michelle’s rant. 

Michelle looks back at him, then to you, where you’re looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Me,” she shrugs, “Well c’mon on bullock, are you introducing yourself or what?” She pushes away from you to address the boy. 

You turn to him as he flails his hand in a wave, “Hi, I’m Michelle’s cousin, James,” he practically mumbles, no doubt trying to downplay his very obvious English accent.

“Why is he making that funny noise?” Orla asks Erin, which entices Michelle to go on a rant about the English and his mother. 

You listen for a moment, as Michelle says some awfully crass things about his Mum, following her and Erin as they lead the group to the bus, before you turn to the boy and introduce yourself, “Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah,” James seems speechless, “Yeah, you too,” he smiles gently. 

.·:*¨༺----------------------------------༻¨*:·.

The few weeks James has been with the group, he has somehow become very close with you. The other’s still have yet to warm up to him, but the two of you seem to get along great, you both love Doctor Who and other nerdy shit. He has really helped you come out of your shell, you talk more than ever, but mostly to him. And in turn, you have made James feel semi-comfortable in Derry. Little did the two of you know, you would become even closer than you thought. 

Michelle had spontaneously invited your lot to her house. Although apparently, she had negated to tell James about it. 

“Where’s James?” You ask Michelle as the others plop down on the sofa.

“Upstairs probably, little weirdo,” she says the last part under her breath and you roll your eyes as you hurry up the stairs to find him. You had been to Michelle’s house many times so it wasn’t very hard to locate where James would be hiding out. 

Knocking on the guest room door, you call out, “James?”

There's shuffling on the other side of the door, then a weak “Come in,” followed by him clearing his throat and repeating himself.

You open the door to see him sitting on the bed, shoulders slumped. “Is everything okay?” you ask when he doesn’t look up at you. 

He wipes his eyes, sniffling a little, “Yeah, no I’m good,” replies weakly.

You step forward into the room and take a seat next to him, “No you’re not… What’s wrong?” you place a hand on his back comfortingly.

He finally looks up at you through bloodshot eyes, still wet with tears. “I just… still can’t believe my mom would just leave me here, like this, alone.” At the last word he broke out into a sob, leaning forward and into your chest. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you rub his back soothingly, “Hey, it’s okay, you’re not alone… You have me,” you nudge him lightly. He lets out a laugh, but his breathing is still shaky. The two of you sit like that for a while as he calms down. Finally, he lifts his head, looking into your eyes again, “You okay now?” You ask.

“Yeah, thanks,” he practically whispers, distracted by how the afternoon sun casts a halo around your hair and the flecks in your eyes make them even more alluring. You smile softly at him. His eyes are drawn to your lips as you lick them for moisture. “Can I kiss you?” the words tumble out of his mouth before he knows what he’s saying, though he doesn’t regret it, especially when you smile brightly at him. 

“I’d like that,” you agree, leaning into him as he does the same. Heat blooms in your chest when your lips meet, and it lingers as you pull away, grinning wildly at the boy beside you. 

The sound of footsteps stomping up the stairs snaps the two of you out of your daze, both of you scooching further away from each other on the bed to avoid looking suspicious, though the way James continues to look longingly at you doesn’t help your situation. “WANKERS!” Michelle yells as she slams the door open. “Are ya coming down to watch the film or what?”

You look at James but he’s still MIA, so you just nod, hopping up off the bed, “Yeah of course, c’mon James!” and you drag him down the stairs by the elbow. 

.·:*¨༺----------------------------------༻¨*:·.

Hiding that you and James had kissed would have been easy, that is, had you not continued to sneak around together. The other’s never paid you two any attention anyways, so holding hands in between your bodies on the couch, or falling behind them when you’re walking as a group so that he could wrap his arm around you, was pretty safe. But managing to slip away from them to be alone was harder, because you all had done everything together for the past decade or more. 

The only way the two of you had managed to get any time alone together had been sneaking around at school. Which was not an easy task, given you had most of your classes together, but when you didn’t, if you timed things right…

You looked both ways down the hall as you approached the secluded closet. You knock 3 times, and hear the sounds of the door unlocking, and see James peeking his head out,  a big grin spreading on his face when he sees you. His hand reaches out and pulls you in the closet. You let out a giggle and James shushes you by pulling you into a greedy kiss. Your fingers rake through his hair, as his circle your waist, pulling you as close as possible. This isn’t the first time this has occurred, and like clockwork James hands wander upward, pulling up your sweater and shirt. Before and skin is revealed, the doorknob jiggles, a loud sigh coming from the other side. You and James pull away from each other, a panicked look in each of your eyes.

“Oh you’ve got t’be shitting me,” Sister Michael sighs, when she sees the two of you, looking like deer caught in headlights. “C’mon, out wit ya!” she sighs again, ushering the two of you down the hall to her office. 

As you sit in the chairs opposite her desk, you look at each other, tight-lipped smiles on your faces. Sister Michael calls your mum and Michelle’s mum, asking them to come down to the school.

When they arrive, they are shocked to see that it's you and James who have caused quite the fuss, and not Erin and Michelle.

“Thank you for coming down,” Sister Michael sighs as the mothers sit down beside the two of you. “I regret to inform you, but I found these two sneaking around in one of the broom closets. I’m gonna have to suspend them.”

“Sneaking around doing what?” Michelle’s mum asks. 

Sister Michael looks at you? but you quickly avoid her gaze, “They were… kissing.”

“I thought he was gay!” your mum exclaims, more towards Michelle's mum than anyone else.

“Me too! James, why didn't ya tell us you fancied girls?”

“I tried to! No one believed me!” James explains.

“How long are they suspended for?” your mum finally asks, after taking a long look at you. 

Sister Michael ponders for a moment, “2 days.”

“2 days! What am I supposed to do with her for 2 days?” your mum argues. 

“Yeah some of us got to work ya know!” Michelle’s mum agrees. 

“I don’t care what you do with with them, I just don't want to see them back til thursday!” Sister Michael raises her hands as if to say she's said her final piece.

Grumbling, the two mums pull you and James out of the office, where you find the rest of the lot waiting. End of the day must’ve come while you were waiting for your mum. “Well? What’s all this about?” Michelle asks, arms crossed, eyeing you and James. 

“These two were caught kissing in a closet!” your mum exclaims. A chorus of gagging and puking noises sound. 

“Y/N, how could ya?” Claire asks sincerely. You just shrug. 

They're never gonna let you live this down.

#james maguire x reader #james maguire #derry girls

[michellemisfit]

WEEKLY TAG WEDNESDAY - FIRSTS!

Tagged by @suzy-queued @deedala @darlingian @heymrspatel @lingy910y @energievie @mybrainismelted @blue-disco-lights

Name: Michelle

Age: Currently getting a kick out of telling people that I’m nearly 40 and having them go ‘NO WAY!!!’ - It’s funny and flattering :)

First Pet: Siberian gerbils called Tom & Jerry

First Word: No idea. Turns out my parents kept a baby book for my older brother where they painstakingly recorded all of that stuff. I found mine a few years ago and it’s got a grand total of 3 entries, one of which is talking about how chubby I am, and how I am yet to find a food I’ll say no to, and let’s hope that’s not a sign of things to come… after which it was abandoned. Thanks mum.

First Celebrity Crush: Leonardo DiCaprio

First IRL Crush: Dominik. We hung out basically every day after school. I would go round to his house and he would play me the latest Michael Jackson tape and show me new dance steps that he’d taught himself. I thought he was so cool.

First Kiss: Age 14 with my first boyfriend. He was 20 years old. We were in a relationship for over a year. Shit was fucked up. At the risk of repeating myself… Thanks mum.

First Car: Bebop 🚙 He’s my baby and I bought him this year and I love him! He’s a turquoise 2013 Toyota Yaris Hybrid.

First apartment/house/dorm/whatever away from your parents: Heh. I moved straight from my childhood bedroom to a different country. If you’re gonna do something, do it right! lol

First Time on a Plane: I was… 18 months old? Parents went on holidays to Florida. I have about 3 memories from that trip.

First Cellphone: Nokia 3210 😎

First Concert: David Hasselhoff. I was maybe… 6? And I got very tired and slept through the second half, but my parents woke me up for Looking for Freedom, which was my favourite song of his.

First Foreign country you visited? Italy or France most likely. Pure proximity, and most of our family vacations were done by car from Switzerland so…

First sport you ever played? Hmm. I did competitive swimming when I was very young. And then gymnastics. And after that… about five minutes of football (the only sport I to this day do not understand. How do I run AND kick a ball simultaneously?!?), then 3 years of tennis, 2 years of basketball, 8 years of roller hockey, and a whole smattering of other sports on and off.

First career aspiration? I mean… I basically wanted to be a Disney Princess, purely for the Animal Best Friend aspect! And then any form of Animal Whisperer would have done the trick. I watched all the TV shows and movies where characters had magical bonds with animals, and I wanted that. And then I realised that the characters in the shows and movies aren’t real, but the people training and handling those animals *are*. However that wasn’t something realistic to aspire to, being Swiss, so instead I became a bookseller (somehow that made sense at the time… 🤷🏽‍♂️). And then 15 years later, in a different country and a different life, I did end up training animals for TV and film. So that’s kinda nifty.

And finally… tell me about the first time you wrote/drew/created/whatever something that made you think “wow”

Hmmm. I dunno. I thought I was really fucking talented when I was about 12. I wrote a novel and sent it to publishing houses and literary agencies. One of them invited me for an interview, because they thought my writing was great and they wanted to meet the kid that had sent them a manuscript aged 12/13. They ended up giving me a job, working as a admin/secretary/slush pile reader. They also gave me lots of feedback and constructive criticism on my writing. I scrapped the novel I had sent them in favour of writing a different, better novel. I still think that novel was pretty fucking good. I tried to get my mum to proof read it and give me feedback so I could do any necessary corrections before I spent my pocket money on photocopies, C4 envelopes, and a whole bunch of stamps so I could attempt to get it published again. She was dragging her feet and I tried to explain the urgency, because I was clear that it needed to happen before I turned 14. That was the goal in my head. I had huge ambitions and dreams. I was also convinced that if it happened after I turned 14 it wouldn’t be special anymore. Like anyone could do it after 14… 🙄 In response to this my mum told me that she’d had ambition and dreams, too, when she was my age. But not to worry, that’ll go away, and once you’ve put away the fanciful notions of being talented then you can just get on with your life…

Not sure if this actually answers the question, but that was kinda the first and last time I remember feeling uncomplicatedly good about and proud of something I created. After this anything creative I did was always immediately followed by the doubt of ‘is this actually good, or is this just a fanciful notion I have about being talented, when in actual fact it sucks?’ 🤷🏽‍♂️

Wow. Ended that on a downer, didn’t I?

…

Erm… I wrote Tell me we’ll never get used to it,

They’re the only two people left that know what it’s like to have loved and to have lost a Lightwood.

And it’s a good story.

There.

I said it…

Tagging @crossmydna @palepinkgoat @too-schoolforcool @vintagelacerosette @heymacy @loftec @mikhailoisbaby @rereadanon @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @ian-galagher @andthatisnotfake @francesrose3 @faejilly @jrooc @creepkinginc if you fancy playing? I’m just very exited I’m actually posting this on a Wednesday still! Whoop!!

#Mys stuff #tag game #tag game Wednesday #firsts

[jhuuni]

Help me! - Wen Junhui

dramatic jun x not morning person gn reader

childhood bsfs, humour? school jun, phone call, fluff

word count: 600

you’re awoken by an urgent call from your best friend who should be in school?

authors note- IMMA BE SO REAL I HATE IT WHEN I SAY WISH ME LUCK AND SOMEONE SAYS LUCK ANWAY, I thought of this in school and quickly just wrote it so enjoy :

It was 10:03am, you were sleeping since it was the holidays. Until your peaceful rest was disturbed by your best friend, who moved schools and today was his first day.

junnie🤓☝️

accept decline

“Y/n Y/N THANK GOODNESS YOU ANSWERED.” He shouted whispered.

“Jun I swear to God there better be a good reason you're calling me.” You reply, rubbing your eyes, still processing the fact you’ve just unwantedly woken up.

“There’s a big problem already.”

“What could have happened? You should have only had one lesson.” You asked a bit confused.

“It was the worst lesson of my life!” He responded dramatically.

You knew Jun was going to be fine in his new school, he was very likeable and a funny person. So you couldn’t really understand yet what’s happened or maybe it was too early.

“The teacher was doing the register, and…” He paused to add suspense.

“And?”

“My mum forgot to tell school I preferred to be called Jun! My name in this school is now Jerry.”

You quickly sat up on your bed, in shock but began to giggle.

“Y/n this is not funny, the whole class made fun of me. I'M OFFICIALLY NOT GOING TO BE POPULAR ANYMORE UGHH.” He cried enunciating the word ‘popular’.

“It’s only been one lesson, quickly run to reception or send an email to your teachers today.”

“Are you serious? ITS MY FIRST DAY , I don't have any school email!” He whispered whilst raising his voice, you slowly formed your mouth in an O shape realising you were a bit slow; but then again it was too early for you.

“Wait Jun, how are you calling me?” You asked curious as to whether he should be in school.

“I’m in the toilet, hiding.” You heard him sigh after.

“From what?”

“When my class found out my name was Jerry…”

“Hmm carry on.”

“They all turned their heads and pointed at this boy, and guess what his name was.” You immediately knew what he was going to say.

Yours and Juns friendship was referred to as Tom’s and Jerry’s by quite a few people due to your bickering but also caring for each other (as you’ve been bestfriends since you began to breathe).

You slowly had a smile on your face which you quickly had to get rid of just in case he could somehow see you.

“Hmm, does it begin with T?” You blurt out laughing. “Wait is my Jerry…” You copied his dramatic pause. “replacing me.” You gasped, bringing your hand to cover your mouth.

“Y/n this isn’t funny.”

“But yes his name is Tom.They said we should be best friends,but Toms a bit weird no offence.”

“Did you just indirectly call me weird?” You asked a tiny bit offended.

“Yes.”

“Jerry, you better watch what your next words are.”

“FINE, wait y/n-”

You were a bit curious as to why he went quiet until you heard someone yelling at him, asking why he wasn’t in class and on his phone in the toilets. He explained quickly he was new and that he was confused, to which the teacher said he had 1 minute and needed to hurry up.

“Y/n please pray for me. I cannot be unpopular, it doesn’t look good on my records .”

“Sorry Jerry, but what?” You interrupted, surprised at how dramatic he could be.

“Okay, Y/n wish me luck.”

“Luck Jerry” You replied, hanging up and lying back in bed again, smiling and giggling to yourself.

Maybe it wasn’t as much of a disturbance as you thought.

tags: @wheeboo @hannieheartuu @jjongshrts @minhui896 @rubywonu

#easter #enhypen #seventeen #seventeen flufd #seventeen right here #tomorrow x together #txt #seventeen fluff #svt #seventeen drabbles #seventeen minghao #seventeen jun #wen junhui #moon junhui #junhui x reader #junhui fluff

[toyourstations]

How to lose 50 pounds in 16 months without really trying

note: this isn't a weight loss guide it's a poem about my experience with a weird phenomenon affecting my body.

Eat whatever you find in the cupboard at your parents house.

A handful of crackers, a peanut butter sandwich, an egg toastie, muesli for breakfast. switch from soy milk to oat milk about eight months in when your mum realises how much better the carbon footprint on it is. A whole pack of toffee pops in one night, a block of chocolate over two days, the occasional ben and jerries dairy free ice cream because despite the last two entries you are actually lactose intolerant. No fruit, you're allergic. Vegetables when your parents provide them (not that often). Mostly beige food.

Do between one and 2 thousand steps a day, on average. Probably. Only bother checking your steps 10 months in when your new meds give you heart palpitations and you start wearing a smart watch to make sure your heart hasn't always been that fast.

Sometimes walk between 5-8 thousand steps. Regret it for 1-3 days, lying in bed wracked with physical exhaustion that makes it hard for you to move.

Get a dog. Walk her 3 days a week. She could use more, but see the previous stanza if you want an excuse for my laziness.

Have a semi regular conversation with your parents that goes "have you lost weight?" "You say that any time I look happy" "Well you look better, anyway"

Ask your dad if you can borrow his belt, the jeans you ordered to your custom measurements are falling down.

Dig the pair of jeans from before those ones out of your drawer. Finally you're justified in keeping the jeans you grew out of.

Buy a new pair of jeans another size down (those are slightly baggy now too)

Finally weigh yourself, and think at first the scales are broken. There's no way you've lost 15 kilograms since moving home. You normally only weigh yourself at the doctors, on their orders.

Out of curiosity, weigh yourself again a few months later. Another 5 down. What the fuck. Calculate what percentage of your body weight that was (17%).

Think about the rheumatologist who told you losing even 5% of your body weight would help with your pain. Laugh through the pain (it's worse than ever).

Do research. Listen to a podcast about the science of weight loss, disproving scams and exposing diets as breeding grounds for unhealthy, disordered eating. Listen as they explain that your metabolism will fight very hard to stop you losing weight, adjusting even if you're doing it on purpose, so that you maintain your fat reserves. Read about how sustained weight loss is basically impossible (it's been a year at this point, and you're still steadily dropping).

Mention how much weight you've lost to your parents (wow!), your nurse (congratulations!) your doctor (wow you must have been big before! - hang on let me confirm this. Hm. I'll send you for some blood tests).

Your blood tests are fine, you must just be lucky.

Track your calorie intake for a couple of weeks. Maybe you're undereating (no). Google unexplained weight loss (cancer).

Go back six weeks later, you've lost at least another kilo. "Wow!" she says again. She's surprised and confused. You mention if it keeps up you might apply for a top surgery referral, because you know there's a BMI Limit. You never thought you'd qualify. She looks at her notes again and goes "... yeah" in a way that makes you think she's still wondering how this is happening.

You get more blood tests.

And wait for them to come back normal.

You're done being anxious about your health, you think while you walk the dogs. Fuck it.

then you think up this poem while you munch on a couple of gingernuts in the kitchen where the dog can't beg them off you.

Congratulations on the weight loss! You look great!

#my writing #poetry #chronic health #cw weight loss #cw diet talk #cw fatphobia #weight loss #unexplained weight loss