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#this is going to be worse come fathers day
rougeminded · a month ago
Venting. Don't have to read.
How does an adult living on their own fight through their anxiety and tell their helicopter/anxiety inducing father they can't show up to Mother's Day Dinner because the mere thought of being made to feel bad I can't afford gifts right now is mentally crippling me?
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caldoww · 38 minutes ago
An Excerpt - Not the Last Little Girl
Christina barges into the evening, disturbing the nest of swallows that clings to the wall of her green shed. The young cry while the mother flies off to steal some more midges out of the golden light above the river. 
Christina does not watch any of this; she has somewhere to be. 
A window opens upstairs: What time will you be back? She doesn’t answer. This same question arrives at her phone an hour later. Her mother won’t go to bed until she comes home. Again, Christina won’t notice this as she’ll go straight to her room and play some music that wakes her little sister. Now, as she heads into town, she’ll kick a stone along the deserted road, trying to take out her frustration before she has to subdue it all. Boys don’t like angry girls so Christina doesn’t like angry girls either. She’s annoyed that she forgot to wear deodorant. She’s taken to stealing her father’s can through this summer as the pastel tube her mother bought her is as ineffective as kicking a stone. Sweat is already gathering under her arms - she’ll keep her jacket on to hide it although the extra warmth only makes it worse.
Christina’s flowery dress fits so snugly into this drowsy evening. He stands there, in his aggressive red hoodie, eyeing her over the hard edge of his phone. Nice legs. She blushes. She hates her leg and this small sexualisation seems to give her worth. Of course, he didn’t say it to be nice. 
Thanks. Sorry, my mum made me do some chores. 
I haven’t been here long. The phone slips into his black pocket. Throughout the night she thinks she hears it buzz with the interest of a prettier girl. In reality he receives only one message that evening: hope it’s going well sweetie! His mother wouldn’t have approved of the nice legs comment.
The conversation throws its shade over other people at school, the failings of their individual families and what they want to do. They each need the other person to see them as whole, independent people, in the hope that it might become true. The irony is lost on them. 
His ugly hoodie is the most expensive thing he owns; her dress shows off her chest and her legs. By the time they kiss, the evening’s almost gone. It’s all blue when they come together behind a building in the industrial estate. By the time school starts tomorrow, her scraped knees are known by the whole school while his actions, not to mention his emotions, remain a mystery.
It takes a whole month for him to ask her to be his girlfriend. She pretends she doesn’t mind the way people talk about her and the way he treats her. She thinks she needs him - she’ll think this for a long time. Some day, Christina will sit with her mother late into the evening, talking about her thoughts, waiting until the last little girl stumbles in at one in the morning and they put her to bed together, laughing at the trials of growing up.
In the meantime, however, she says yes. She almost smiles. 
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yodas-yo-yo · an hour ago
Hi! I really enjoyed your xicheng fic recs tag, all of those fics were so good. Can I ask for more? No specifications, just anything you’ve enjoyed recently?
My friend, I am ALWAYS happy to recommend fic, for any pairing that I enjoy. I am reading a LOT of Xicheng atm, but I'll try to stick to stuff that I haven't already rec'd on this blog ;-D
Reverberance by Elenothar Jiang Cheng did not expect the day to end with him agreeing to music lessons with Lan Xichen, but the terrifying duo of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji is apparently better at convincing him to do something than he quite wants to admit.
Mulberry by xxdz (WIP - but possibly my fave thing ever). Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and pushes harder. He feels like torn silk, the embroidery needle sinking in again and again and again; patiently, desperately, endlessly trying to make something beautiful out of something broken.
The Adventure of the Empty Coffins by TheWanderingHeart Four years have passed since the cultivation world was turned upside down. Jiang Cheng has been lodging in Gusu all this time, boarding with Lan Xichen when he fell into financial troubles. It's been... interesting living with him, but he's decided it's time to move out and move on with his life. (Sherlock Holmes AU. The RDJ version)
you are the missing last piece by trilliastra Wei Wuxian eloping with Lan Wangji did not cause this and honestly, Jiang Cheng is actually relieved he will not spend the rest of his life with Lan Wangji, a man that might as well despise him. And out of all the other options he might have had, he is grateful it is not Sect Leader Yao’s daughter or, worse, Wen Chao. At least Lan Xichen is not a sadistic asshole.
Interloper by sparkly_butthole Jiang Cheng returns home from the Cloud Recesses exhausted from another stilted visit with his… whatever Wei Wuxian is to him now… and isn’t sure if attempting to rebuild their relationship is worth the effort anymore. And then a fucking creature crawls out of his qiankun pouch, and Jiang Cheng’s life changes in ways he could never expect.
Temple of Mercy by MillenarianHappinessTheorem Just as there was a proper way to address one’s elder, mourn one’s father, pluck the strings of the guqin or accept compliments with humility, there was also an etiquette to failure. And if Lan Xichen must fail, then he was determined to fail perfectly.
i'd take care of you if you'd ask me to by frostbitten Zéwú-jūn is sitting beside him, and what had once been a respectable distance between them has gradually decreased to the point where their thighs are almost touching. His smile is radiant and he’s prone to laughing over the slightest little thing that amuses him; something Jiāng Chéng is quickly becoming fascinated by.
In Another Life by Bideroo Lan Xichen falls for a mysterious, masked dancer at a festival.
put this love on trial by 100arms100years (celestialsuho) Again, Jiang Cheng braced for the sight of that audience to disturb him: to fill him with the sick knowledge that he had incurred public shame, inevitable as gravity. It did not come. With Lan Xichen’s phantom grip lingering on his arm, he was weightless. Part of a bigger series. All are a great read, but this is my absolute fave!
in full bloom | 盛开 by littlebasketbun Lan Xichen and Jiang Wanyin go on a date, and Jin Ling gives Zewu-Jun the shovel talk.
Enjoy! Hope that there's some on there you haven't read!
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heroloverangel · an hour ago
Light Bulb
Nana Yagi is an excellent judge of character.
It’s good to be home. Your daughter is five days old now, and you were finally able to leave the hospital yesterday afternoon. You weren’t sure you wanted to live on UA’s campus with a newborn, but sleeping in your own familiar bed last night was a welcome reminder that you love it here. Even though you’re still recovering from major surgery, all the energy and activity around you makes you feel more productive.
You wake up in the morning and stagger out of bed to Nana’s crib, fussing over her diaper and making sure she gets plenty to eat. Toshinori’s already left to help with a class; you know he’d feel guilty about ignoring his students for too long no matter what the reason. You grab an apple to snack on and settle down to watch the news with Nana resting comfortably in your arm. It’s a blissfully peaceful day in the city from the looks of it, and you’re thankful that the school’s getting a well-deserved break from villain activity. 
“What should we do today while Papa’s at work?” Your baby blinks up at you before whining, and you smile happily down at her. She’s been fussy this morning, and you wonder if it’s because her father’s not there with her. You can get in a nice shower after you get her back down, and then maybe you’ll start on the excessive amount of emails you’ve been ignoring since you went into labor. You were in the hospital for days, you’d think people would have gotten the hint to leave you alone but your inbox is overflowing with messages. You walk into the bathroom and flip the light switch-
-Only for the bulb to give you the telltale flickering warning before going out and leaving you with only the dim light from the hallway. You yelp in surprise, too loud, and it disturbs Nana from her nap. She seems unhappy at the sight of you instead of the familiar thin face; you should feel annoyed that he’s already her favorite parent, but you think it’s heartwarming that she loves him just as much as you do. “Sshhh, it’s okay sweetheart. Mama didn’t mean to scare you.” You manage to calm her down with an adorable stuffed toy version of her father and glare into the dark room.
You’re going to need help. The ceilings in your home are sized for a man who’s over seven feet tall. You can’t reach the light bulb without a stepladder, and you’re certain that both your doctor and your husband would be upset if you went dragging one around the floor while you’re still recovering. You send your husband a text asking when he’ll be back and wait for his response.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be stuck in a staff meeting for awhile. I’ll send someone over to help ASAP.”
You sigh, kissing your dream of a warm shower goodbye for the foreseeable future. You assume it must be related to the hormones playing havoc with your emotions, but you feel guilty for bothering him with such a minor problem, and even worse that you can’t just do it yourself. It makes you think of all those days you spent alone at home, feeling helpless as you waited for All Might to save the world and come back home to you, and worrying about Toshinori after his injury. He’s always done so much, and you can’t even handle a light bulb of all things?
You hear a loud knock before you can descend further into this hole of self pity and doubt. “Open up, old lady. I’m not standing out here all day.”
You’re confused when you open the door. “Bakugo? You’re the one he sent over?”
“I had the time.” The student shoves past you with his usual scowl. “It’s not like you need to be a damn repair man to fix a light.” He’s right, it only takes two minutes for him to shove the heavy stepladder into place and change the faulty bulb, but he manages to swear impressively the entire time. Your daughter stirs in your arms, but rather than being upset at the noise she seems interested in this unfamiliar voice coming from the other room. He stomps out complaining about wasting his time on such a stupid errand and stops at the sight of her. “This your kid?”
You nod and move her blanket to show her off better. “Her name is Nana.”
“Why’s she staring at me like that?”
A smile starts at the corner of your mouth. “She must like you.” You step forward and beckon him to you. “Here, you should hold her.” The boy immediately takes a step back.
“Absolutely the hell not.” Your grin spreads at his reaction. If you didn’t know better, you’d think the fearless future hero was nervous. 
“You know, Midoriya didn’t have any trouble when he held her.”
His eyes narrow. “...Give me that baby.” You carefully pass Nana over, giving him quick instructions on how to support her head and adjusting his arms to make sure he’s got a safe hold on her. You’re not surprised that he learns quickly; you always knew that beneath his rough exterior (way, way beneath), Bakugo is a good kid who’ll be a great hero some day. You double check that neither of them are in distress before giving him a pat on the shoulder.
“Okay, great. Now stay like this for a bit while I go take a shower.”
“WHAT.” Nana blinks up at him but doesn’t cry at his outburst. “Get back here, you old hag!” You laugh in response, escaping to the bathroom while he yells at you. You emerge ten minutes later feeling refreshed and peaceful to find him still standing in the exact same spot and glaring murder in your direction. “Take. This. Thing. Back. Now,” he snarls, and you’re happy to rescue him.
“Thanks, you really did me a favor on that.” At this point, his temper amuses you more than anything. You hold him hostage for a couple more minutes as you tell him all about your daughter’s first few days, and you can see the relief on his face when the door opens again and Toshinori walks inside.
“Ah, young Bakugo. I appreciate you taking the time to help. Have you met our Nana yet?” His student’s patience finally snaps, he rushes for the open door and slams it hard behind him. The two of you stand there in silence for a moment before your eyes meet and you both start cracking up. “How was he, aside from that temper tantrum?”
You give your husband a kiss on the cheek as he reaches for your precious little girl. She’s always happy to see him and grabs at his hand, holding it with all the strength in her tiny body. “Bakugo? He was fine. He’ll never admit it, but I think he’s got a soft spot for kids.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Yeah,” you agree and run your fingers over the fine yellow hair on her head. “How long do you think we can trick him into helping out by comparing him to Midoriya?” It’s been a long time since you’ve heard Toshinori laugh this hard.
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crnvl-yth · 4 hours ago
My name's BJ and I feel now is the time I come clean with my past as truscum/transmed. I figured it was time as it has been closed to 4 years since I aligned myself with those ideations and, to the best of my knowledge, I never attacked any of KG’s victims. I am making this post after hearing Moe (CopsHateMoe) talk about their experience as a transmed. I understand this is something that upsets people but I fear many young trans people have fallen for truscum rhetoric and ideations as it is incredibly easy to access.
TW before I go any further, I will talk about K*lv*n/G*rr*h (will be called KG for short), how his videos impacted my views as a transmasc, suicidal ideations, child grooming, and my own struggles internalized transphobia. You have been warned. So, let's get into it
Summer, 2014. I was 14 when I felt uncomfortable with my AFAB body but I didn't have a word of it, I later found out it was dysphoria. After a couple months of not knowing why I was uncomfortable after 14 years of living in my AFAB body, I chocked it up to having just moved from the city I lived in my whole life to a much smaller city within the school district.
Summer/Fall, 2016-17. A couple years passed, pretty eventfully and violently with my abusive step father moving out and divorcing my mom to my dad moving 3 hours away, and so I moved online, looking for YouTube after socially coming out to my friends and boyfriend groomer. I was confused why I felt this way about myself and after looking up like "transgender ftm" or something, KG's videos showed up. I followed him simply for content around his personal transition. I just wanted content about transitioning and how to go about it.
I don't remember the shift in KG's content, from "Here's my top surgery scars and how I healed!" to "Trans/trenders are ruining this community." obviously, not real video titles but if you know, you know. I was 16-17 and, surprise, didn't know any better that this new content was so toxic and the red flags were flying and bright red. I was not aware of the damage that even watching these videos had on myself let alone what the victims what through. KG would say if you didn’t experience debilitating  gender dysphoria, you weren’t really trans. Which is bullshit, because in my own experience, dysphoria is a spectrum. Somedays, it’s not too bad and I can manage and the next day, I’m unable to get out bed.
That one comment KG made about dysphoria made me feel awful, and I internalized that disgust for myself. 
“Why don’t I feel the same? I must be faking for attention.” 
Listening to KG’s transphobic comments about someone else’s transition made me feel worse about myself. Hearing him talk at great lengths about someone’s voice, internalized it as my own.
I felt awful I wasn’t on HRT, or in therapy for my transition. I was 16-17. I was living at home while my mother refused to believe me that I was trans. Transitioning at 16-17 was not an option for me.
I don’t remember which events happened first as I believe I’ve blocked these memories out but I do not remember the Lars and Milo Stewart ordeals and what they went through. 
I remember the Brennen Beckwith situations and how relentless KG was to him. How much hate Brennen got and I felt guilty. Here was someone I didn’t know getting harassed by someone I, a 16-17 year-old, looked up to. I stopped watching KG’s videos shortly after. I believed the words of an angry child on the internet. 
I did publicly support KG and his friend SR (St0rm Ry4n) on twitter and Instagram but stopped after 3-6 months. I have not watched a KG video since 2017. I did watch SR’s apology video but I am not someone who he needs to apologize to nor do I feel it in my heart to accept his apology. 
This is long and probably does not make much sense but I can’t continue to grow as a trans man without getting this off my chest and into somewhere
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bravo-four-seal-team · 5 hours ago
Hospital stay, Trent and Amelia (ao3 series) 😉
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Prompt: Hospital Stay
Heart Stops Beating Part Two
Tags: @badthingshappenbingo @theysayitscrazy @rebelwrites @galaxysanduniversesinmymind@itsonautopilot @thelovelyleo23 @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @disasterfandoms @hails-halstead @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @abby-splace @jasonbabymama @innerpaperexpertcloud @donovanrocker @mrsmarvelous1995
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Amelia is watching her husband's chest rise and fall, he’s not breathing on his own, he had to be intubated on the way to the hospital.
She knows things will get worse before they get better. It seemed to work that way, she had dropped Willow and 3 year old Eric off at Blackburn's, who was happy to help watch the kids. Her brother was training green team still so hadn’t been able to get away and Ashley, god she needed to phone her, but she was pulled from the reserves for a last minute deployment.
She’s watching the vitals, Blackburn is telling the team, she doesn’t even know what happened, he was fine, talking to her, had said he was going to sort out some things regarding Willow's birthday in 2 weeks.
Please don’t let her lose her father. Amelia thought, tears building up in her eyes again.
“Amelia” The Doctor says as he enters, gesturing for her to remain sitting “We got results back from the tests and scans we took” he explains, the way he says it doesn’t fill her with hope “He injuries to the chest area”
“Yeah, he only got back from a mission a few days ago,” Amelia says.
“X-Rays of the chest show he’s suffered from a Pulmonary Contusion, mechanical ventilation, concerned about hypoxemia and hypercarbia, we are monitoring that. Now while he did go into cardiac arrest, from what we can see there’s no concern for him having brain damage, we are going to continue monitoring him, you should go home”
Amelia shook her head, tears flowing “I need to stay with him”
“You have two kids Amelia, they need their momma”
"Amelia!" Jason calls as he comes down the hall "We came as soon as we heard" he states as the other members of Bravo appear behind him in the hall.
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King Loki, I apologize for the rant but I would like some advice.
My father always makes me feel like complete garbage. He is always putting me down, never appreciates me, and makes my depression so much worse. I'm fixing up a house to move in with my friends but I'm still stuck at the house since my parents won't help me get my license or a car, much less a job. I cook, do dishes, take care of the pets, take out the trash, get the mail, do my laundry, wash towels, and help with their laundry. I also take care of my sick mother and while I'm currently on summer break, I'm going to college to become a clinical psychologist. Even then, my father will point out other things that I don't do, and expects me to clean the entire house every day. He always talks about how he needs to do everything around the house yet all he does is sleep, play video games, and watch television. He also says he works hard yet on many occasions he says he sits on his ass all day on his tablet. He also yells so much. I get scared every day when he starts yelling because I worry he may leave us, which he has threatened before, or he may actually hit us. He never has hit either my mother or I yet, and says he never would but he slams and throws things when angry at us so it's his way of showing us how much he wants to hit us, even if he doesn't realize it. However, not only do I have many responsibilities, My depression makes it difficult for me to do much, and he makes it worse. Even when I do try to clean the house he always makes comments such as: "About time." or "How long until it gets cleaned next time?" or "This was half assed, you didn't do it right." I have tried so hard to have a connection with him but I'm so tired of fighting for a relationship that he doesn't care about. I can't address my concerns with him because he will threaten to not take me to college and pay the bills. Do you have any advice to help me deal with my father until I can escape?
Best regards, Catrina.
“Catrina,” Loki drawls, in his smooth resonate voice. “I firstly must commend your good work. For caring for your ill mother, minding the household needs, and that you get up in the morning even if your soul is weary and your bones ache for a rest; that you keep on living even if you do not know how to anymore. Secondly, you have my deepest sympathies for your grievances. I am all too familiar with what it is like to seek the approval of a parent; only for there to be none in return.” His eyes were completely unfocused, yet his pallid features bore the most intense concentration as memories flowed unbidden.
He says nothing for a moment. Then, something in the edge of his mouth—and the corner of his eyes—resembled the ghost of a sad smile.
“Those whom I knew and called my mother and father are dead. That much is beyond dispute. They were not my real parents, but they raised me as their own. I daresay they loved me. That had been in dispute, at least in my own mind for awhile. I found out very late that my identity was a lie. Not Asgardian, not a son of Odin, I was completely unmade. That was how I felt when I learned of my true parentage. I was a fraud, a monster; it explained so much. It explained why I never felt like I fit in, why I would never be my brother's equal, why I would never get what I'd been promised my whole life.” His voice was soft, hoarse. Intent.
Loki raises his left hand and rests his forefinger against his lips as a line forms between his own eyebrows in thought.
“I have lingered around Midgard long enough to come to an understanding of how your minds tick. I shall do my best to give advice where I can.
Try, if you will, to put things into perspective. The most loving parents commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force one to destroy the person they really are: a subtle kind of murder. Even the most loving parents damage their children with the best intentions—to protect them, to guide them, to better them. In most cases, it would appear they do it by imprinting their own fears and prejudices on them.
The point is, parents are mere, imperfect people.
They have flaws, struggles and impaired judgement. They have both emotional and intellectual handicaps. Regardless of their parental role, they are afflicted by personal blockages and limitations.
But most of all, they are people who make mistakes, and who are terrified of being judged by their children.
Learn to see your difficult parent as just that; human. Learn to see their emotional immaturity as a type of disability.
With that in mind, you would do well to keep your expectations of them low.
In many ways the effect a difficult parent has on ones self is fueled by their feelings of injustice and the belief that things could be different, or ought to be different.
In other words, your expectations dictate how you feel.
You need to let go of your expectations and accept your parent for who they are.
You cannot expect someone with, say, a narcissistic personality, to act with empathy and kindness. No more than you can expect a scorpion not to sting.
Difficult parents are much easier to deal with when you accept that they will not change. So do not expect of them more than they are capable of, and you will not be disappointed or hurt.
Do not fall into the illusion of guilt, Catrina.” He warns. “A difficult parent loves nothing more than to make you feel like you’ve hurt them. Or, in a different scenario, like you’re a bad person if you do not do something they ask.
Do not fall for it. If they’re setting a guilt trap, calmly tell them that you do not appreciate being emotionally manipulated, and you will not tolerate it anymore.
Manipulators, and I should know, detest being called out on their dirty tricks.
If they continue to harass you, reiterate that you cannot do what they’re asking you to do this time, and you need them to respect that.
The trick is agreeing with everything they’re saying (how can they argue when you agree with them?) and re-stating your decision over and over again.
Now this part I find to be… far more easier said than done. You must let go of the need for your father's approval, Catrina. It goes without saying that every child needs and wants their parents’ approval. It is normal to want it, and it is normal to receive it.
Yet so many have to accept the fact that this is not going to happen. For whatever reason, their parent has chosen to withhold their approval. Some difficult parents do it as a form of punishment. While others hope to influence their child in the “right” direction.
Most likely, your father loves you, but they have a very warped idea of what parental love is.
In their misguided quest to make you into a version of themselves, they missed the chance to get to know you. And so they cannot appreciate you for the wonderful being that you are.”
He shrugs elegantly. “It is their loss. When you realize this and let go of the need for their approval, you will be able to start living your life in a whole new way.
When confronting your father, be direct and calm without expecting a specific response. That is the part you cannot control. The part that is within your control is letting your thoughts and feelings known, which is empowering.
Stick to the facts and use “I” statements such as, “I feel like my words do not matter to you when you constantly interrupt me” or “I feel scared and misunderstood when you yell at me”
Remember that manipulative parents are not known for their empathy. They will try to confuse you, go on the offensive, or assume the role of a victim.
Do not allow them to bully you into submission by invoking guilt or pity. State your case in a calm and polite manner, and stay cool regardless of their response.
Your goal is to be honest about your feelings, and to make it clear that you will not tolerate certain behaviors.” He softly clears his throat.
“Last but not least, an unhappy alternative is forgoing the relationship that is too harmful. I know, a parent is not someone you can so easily cut out of your life. But if all else fails and your father continues to cause you psychological harm, then this may very well need to be taken into considerable consideration; at least for the foreseeable future. Sometimes it is the only logical recourse.
A parent that is fundamentally incapable of showing love and support, unable to see the error of their ways after numerous attempts to communicate how their behavior or words affect you, consistently dismissive, demeaning or critical, manipulative in a habitual manner, punishing and cruel whenever you disobey, are disrespectful of your boundaries and using threats and intimidation to get what they want is a destructive force that will continue to tear you down until you put a stop to it.
It is not an easy feat, my dear. The parent-child bond is hardwired into the brain, which means children get attached to even the most awful of parents.
But consider the cost of having that toxic relationship in your life—stress breeds anxiety, depression, internalized feelings of inadequacy, and failed personal relationships.
I wish you all the best, Catrina. I truly do.”
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aliciam72 · 6 hours ago
New WIP Alex/Isobel Origin story
So…a few of you have expressed interest in an origin story since I tend to write Alex and Isobel as best friends…well, I got an idea…
I have a little bit written so far, not much just an opening and a scene for somewhere in the middle. I’m curious to see if there is more interest before I write the whole thing.
It’s going to be set in the same universe as my last fic The line begins to blur
It’s a prequel of sorts. It will mostly focus on Alex and Isobel but others will have minor parts. So without further ado…here is the snippet from the currently untitled Alex/Isobel Origin Story.
“You know I tried to help you when we were little.” Isobel said. Her head was tucked under Alex’s chin and he was rubbing her back in an effort to calm her.
She can almost feel his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Remember when we were in seventh grade and Mrs. Monroe thought it would be fun to host that international day and she asked us all to bring in something that represented where our ancestors were from?” Isobel asked.
Alex remembered that stupid project very well. He tried to ask his dad if he could bring one of his mom’s quilts and his dad flipped out. It was the first time his father beat him and left bruises where they wound show. “Yeah. I remember.”
“You came in that day with a black eye and said you forgot your item. Mrs. Monroe said you’d get a zero for participation and didn’t even ask about your eye. I heard you tell Liz that your father got mad because you asked about your mom. I felt so bad because you were so nice when Max and I started school. You never made fun of us because we didn't know a lot of English or because we didn’t know who our parents were. And you once stood up for Max when someone called him stupid because he got low grade on a test. You were kind when so many others weren’t. So, I did something stupid and instead of helping I think I made it worse.” Isobel confessed.
“Not sure what you could have done that would make my father any worse than he was.” Alex scoffed.
“When he came to pick you up that day I tried to get in his head. I wanted to nudge him to be nice to you. I was just coming into my powers and I had learned I could nudge my mom to give me extra ice cream or let me stay up a little later. It wasn’t until I had used my powers for a while that I realized I could only influence someone to do something they wanted to do. So, I’m more like a little angel or devil on your shoulder, you know like those old Tom and Jerry cartoons? I can’t make you do something you have no intention of doing. Like I can’t force you to kiss a woman.”
Alex laughed. “When we were younger you might have succeeded. There were many times I just wanted to be normal.”
Isobel looked up at him. “Being straight does not make you normal. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. I just wanted him to be nicer to you, to stop hitting you. But when I peeked into his mind I couldn’t do anything.”
“Because you knew you weren’t supposed to be messing with people’s heads.” Alex concluded.
“No. Because everything in his head was so angry. And all I could feel was his resentment for having to take care of you and your brothers. He didn’t even like any of you. I was so scared I pulled out almost as soon as I got in. I’d never felt anger like that. And when I saw you on Monday you were wearing long sleeves but when you moved I saw the handprints on your wrist. I thought I did something wrong and made him hurt you more. I went home and cried all night.”
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god-shapedhole · 10 hours ago
soul’s prayer
a very very strange period to be in
today i felt the compulsion to give God my best -- freshly awake, post-shower, post-call me. and as i was worshipping on the floor of my room i felt God telling me this is a season of trial, of testing. which honestly i’ve been sensing in my day to day life: each day i struggle with things i do and regrets wrt the way i spoke/acted, what i did/didnt do, how i acted in uncharacteristic/ungodly manners. getting more keenly aware of myself and the ways i mess up, the ways in which i break God’s heart.
a vision came into my head: there was a fire that i knew i had to go through, a straight road where the only way is through, but each time i stepped too close to the flames it burned, it hurt and i withdrew. because this was the only way through, retreating every time only drew out the process and made it worse than it had to be. i didnt have enough willpower/strength/courage to make it through the flames (which continued for ?an unknown stretch). blinded by the size of the flames i rly couldnt see the other side. as Holy Spirit continued to work in me i felt this prayer arise in me that i had to pray out: God, give me courage to go through the fire, to go through this period of testing.
immediately i was reminded of God being shelter, cover, companion, Father. that the flames are not for naught, that He would carry me through it, that He would be by my side with each step. 
when thinking of trying periods in life its so easy to be overwhelmed by the situation at hand that one forgets the situation is still God’s hand. the magic hand that makes all things work for good. so Holy Spirit, i thank you for speaking and letting me know the prayer that needed to be said, Father i thank you that through it all i can trust in your will for me, Jesus i thank you for loving me so much and showing me that you will be with me in my suffering.
By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as an expert builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one must be careful how he builds. For no one can lay a foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, or straw, his workmanship will be evident, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will prove the quality of each man’s work. If what he has built survives, he will receive a reward. If it is burned up, he will suffer loss. He himself will be saved, but only as if through the flames. 1 Corinthians 3:10-15
But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold. Job 23:10
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missmitchieg · 13 hours ago
Alex, Not Alexis
When Alex Mercer was born, his doctor called him a baby girl. His parents dressed him up in a pretty pink onesie with white stripes and took him home. They named him Alexis Abigail Mercer. They liked to call him Lexi for short.
At a year and a half old, Alex was sat in the living room watching Sesame Street while his mother, Rebecca cooked dinner and his father, George sat reading the newspaper. He smiled and giggled when Suzanne Farrell appeared in her pretty pink tutu and danced around like a ballerina. He clapped as she twirled and stood in fifth position, and Rebecca decided then that her little "Alexis" was going to take ballet lessons when "she" turned two.
At two years and a month, Alex was put into his first ballet lesson, clad in a pretty pink tutu, just like Suzanne. He was taught how to stand in position, how to move his arms and hands so he could dance, just like her. He smiled proudly at himself as he twirled in his little tutu, his proud mother watching with happy tears in her eyes.
When Alex started school a few years later, he was nervous to be in a new environment. He's always been a little anxious about trying new things and about being away from mommy and daddy. The little boys and girls at school already seeming cliqued up and excluding him did not calm him down.
For a few years, he would come home from school upset and crying because the other kids laughed at him for panicking, needing his Epi-pen, or whatever bad thing happened that set him off like a boy pulling his pigtails. When he didn't, he would tell his mom he was sick, because he did sort of feel sick, and ask for chicken soup and a mom-approved show on the TV.
But when he felt alright, he would just go and suffer the consequences. Until one day in third grade when he met this boy named Luke Patterson. Luke was nice to him and would yell at bullies for being mean because "She's not doing anything bad! Just leave her alone!" and run to tell a teacher to get them in trouble.
"Thank you, Luke, for making them go away." Alex would tell him and push his bangs out of his face, behind his ears. He was sort of starting to hate his long bangs and long hair. But he loved his pink clothes.
"No problem!" Luke would respond and grab his hand, and they would take off together in search of crickets and grasshoppers to chase.
They stayed best friends all though out the rest of their elementary years, and into middle school. His parents loved Luke for Alex. A little boy who shared their sweet "Alexis'" faith and was nice to "her"? He seemed absolutely perfect. Until they got to know him.
See, Luke was sort of a stubborn, rebellious boy who liked rock bands and electric guitar. It only got worse when the pair met Bobby Wilson in the seventh grade and introduced them to Reggie Peters, who wore leather jackets and Bobby only encouraged Reggie, Luke and Alex sneaking out to see bands they liked, and who called their sweet baby Alex. Little did they know it was because Alex had asked the three of them to call him that.
Alex laughed as he stood in the arcade with Bobby, Reggie and Luke, beating Reggie at Street Fighter for the third time that day. Their arcade trips had soon become a regular thing, and they had learned to ignore the strange looks they got from the fact of the four of them being three boys in rebellious rocker boy garb and a girl in a baby pink hoodie, grey baggy shorts, hair shoved under a black snapback, and Nike sneakers.
"Way to go, Alexis!" Reggie cheered him on, fist in the air in celebration at his best friend winning yet again.
Alex blinked and felt his smile falter just a little, giving Reggie a fist bump. "Thanks, buddy."
Reggie took notice of her smile shrinking, though, and frowned a little, tilting his head. "Hey, you ok? Something bothering you?"
"What? No, I'm fine. Just-" Alex stopped to take a deep breath, shoving the anxiety building up in his stomach down. He knew his friends would be fine with such a small change, so why did the idea of asking this of them make him want to throw up the pizza they just ate? "I- Can you guys stop calling me Alexis? I don't like that name. I want to be called Alex." He admitted and bit his lip, bouncing on his heels.
"Oh, sure." Reggie shrugged like it was nothing.
"No problem, Alex." Luke agreed with a smile.
"Alex it is." Bobby nodded. "But is Lexi still ok?"
Alex considered it for a second and nodded with a smile. "Lexi is still ok, but thanks for asking first."
"Hey, we just want you to be comfortable, Alex." Bobby smiled and Alex chuckled, bumping shoulders with him. "Thanks, boys."
"Anything for you, Lexi." Reggie promised. "Besides, it would be weird of me to call you a name you don't like when I ask everyone to call me Reggie instead of Reginald. Just feels wrong." He said, scrunching up his face when he spoke his full name.
"Or Bobby instead of Robert." Bobby cringed.
"Or Luke instead of... Um, Lucy." Luke admitted and bit his lip, watching his best friend's reactions carefully.
"Luke fits you better." Alex told him, silently promising to keep his real name a secret from the rest of the world for all eternity, and he saw appreciation in Luke's eyes at that. So his best friend was both Christian and transgender (and maybe so was he). It didn't have to be a big deal. Luke was still Luke, and he would always be just Luke to Alex. He smiled, silently pointing his thumb at the game machine.
"I like Luke!" Reggie grinned, giving him a comforting pat on the back.
"Yeah, man. It sounds cool. Sounds like a rock star name." Bobby commented and Luke chuckled as he put another coin in the slot to play (and lose) again.
So it was settled. His boys called him Alex and Lexi and he called his boys Luke, Reggie and Bobby. It worked for them. It felt right.
He knew he couldn't just ask his parents to stop calling him the name they picked out that they loved so much, so he just didn't. And he definitely wasn't planning on ever telling them that he was pretty sure he was a boy like his best friends, not a girl like they had previously thought, because he'd heard the awful way his very conservative, very religious parents had talked about "disgusting queers and their sick desire to poison the youth and watch the world go up in flames".
So yeah, he was very much content with keeping it a secret until he turned eighteen and moved out so he could do whatever he wanted to, like cut his hair and legally change his name and get a whole new wardrobe that he didn't have to hide in the back of his closet behind pretty church dresses and ballet class tutus. Like his cool hoodies and pants and sneakers. He still loved the color pink. It was still his favorite. He was just a boy that liked pink. Not a girl. It didn't have to be a big deal.
And he did keep that secret, very well. For a while. Some punk kid at school told his parents and they told Alex's parents, who promptly threw a massive tantrum about having a daughter, not a son, and how they did not raise "Alexis" to be like this. How they were not going to raise a "queer" and Alex needed up to clean up "her" act or "she" could find another place to live because "she" could not stay there if "she" was going to be like that.
"And what if I like the way I am, dad? What if I like that I think I'm a boy, and like that I think I might like Luke?" Alex finally snapped and crossed his arms, and both of his parents were shocked into silence.
"Really, Alex?" Luke asked softly, uncharacteristically quiet for once. He looked up at Alex from the couch where the pair were previously finishing Math homework together, his eyes wide and hopeful.
Alex softened and gave Luke a little smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah, Luke."
"And Luke, how do you feel about our Alexis?" George sneered at Luke and sent him a bitter glare, almost daring the boy to challenge him, and Luke, well, he never said no to a dare or a challenge.
Luke pursed his lips at George and gave him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, I dunno who Alexis is, sir, but I do know that Alex is one of the coolest, smartest, most talented and amazing boys I've ever met." He answered, putting an emphasis on "Alex" and "boys" just to piss George off.
"Luke." Rebecca spoke up, fists clenched and eyes trained on Luke. "Say that again." She ordered slowly, as if asking him to speak again would change the words that came out of his mouth.
Luke scoffed, standing from the cough and dropping his text book to the floor. "I said, ma'am, that Alex is one of the cool, smartest, most talented and amazing boys I've ever met, and I like him, too." He smiled and took Alex's hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze and smiling when Alex squeezed him right back.
"Get out of this house! Both of you!" George commanded, pointing toward the door.
"Bye!" Alex waved and walked out with Luke, as if this was something perfectly normal and fine, getting on his bicycle. "Let's head to Bobby's. Reggie's already there with him."
So now Alex was taking up residence in the Wilson garage. He guessed he really should've known they would find out some way or another. He wasn't openly telling people he was a boy named Alex, but he also was necessarily acting like the little ballerina princess people used to know as Alexis. No, now he was just that "girl" that always hid "her" hair under hats before just cutting it all off, and that "girl" that played the drums and hanged out in the arcade or played basketball with a bunch of guys.
Reggie came soon after, when his parents' fighting had just become too much for him to handle. Alex always felt bad and wished there was some way he could snap his fingers and magically have everything be fixed, but there was nothing he could do to help anyone. That didn't help his anxiety, either. The only thing that helped, was drumming. So he drummed, a lot.
The boys ended up forming a band that they called Sunset Curve. (Reggie came up with it. Reggie also designed their logo. Both things he was very proud of. And the boys loved it.) It took them a few years, Luke and Alex deciding they were better as friends, Luke moving into the garage, and some gigs at book clubs, but they were starting to get big. Big enough to play The Orpheum.
And then three of them ate some bad hot dogs.
Alex guessed the afterlife wasn't so terrible. Sure, he was dead and he couldn't eat pizza or Bobby's mom's famous meals anymore, but dying brought him and Luke and Reggie to Julie. With Julie came Ray, and Carlos, and Flynn. And sure, he couldn't actually talk to Ray or Carlos, but he could talk to Flynn with Julie's whiteboard or Julie relaying messages to them, so he had that.
And then came Willie.
Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that was nice to him, and answered his questions, and used the name Alex had asked him to. Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that showed him how to move objects by focusing his energy into his hands, and gave him a new coping mechanism for his anxiety. Sweet, funny, handsome Willie that liked to cause trouble with cops, and went by "they" and "them", which Alex would always respect, because he knew what it was like to be misgendered and he was never going to do that to his sweet Willie.
There was just one little thing bothering him on one random Saturday. He hadn't yet told Willie that he himself was trans. He was going to! He wasn't going to keep that a secret from someone sort of like him. He just hadn't gotten around to it yet, but now he would.
"Hey, Wills." He piped up as they were sat in a museum, shouting a little and talking through his stressor of the week.
"Yeah, Hot Dog?" Willie smiled, running their finger through Alex's soft blond locks.
"I'm trans. I'm a trans boy." Alex told him after a moment of hesitation, leaning into Willie's gentle hand.
Willie raised their eyebrows and their smile widened, scooting closer to Alex. "Yeah?"
Alex blushed and chewed on his lip, taking a deep breath and looking Willie in the eye. "I really like you. A lot."
Willie gasped softly and felt their jaw drop as they looked at Alex, a soft smile forming on their face. "I like you, too, Lexi."
Alex smiled at the way the affectionate nickname sounded on Willie's lips, raising a hand to tuck Willie's hair behind their ear. "Then, can I kiss you?"
Willie let out a giggle and nodded, leaning in slowly. "Yes."
Alex leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips against Willie's, his hand grasping Willie's neck gently. He pulled away slowly after a while and bit his lip, still unable to hide the smile on his face. "That felt really good."
"Yeah." Willie agreed.
"Can I do it again?"
"God, yes." Willie nodded immediately. "Yes please, Lexi."
Alex giggled then and kissed Willie again, softer and slower this time.
So, yeah. Maybe the afterlife wasn't perfect, but it came pretty damn close if you asked Alex, so he wasn't going to complain.
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stansupremacy · 14 hours ago
[NOTE] English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes. Very excited to share this story with you, I originally posted it on wattpad, but it was really frustrating to note that it didn't seem to attract attention. Let's not focus on that, but on the now, new beginnings in Tumbrl (I still don't know how works lmao)
[COPYRIGHT] All rights reserved, copying or adaptation of the novel without prior notice to the author is PROHIBITED.
Traveling the world with a six-month-old was not an easy job, but you took the risk.
Chris was turning 40, you flatly refused to spend that special day away from him.
They were both actors, so their schedules were always very tight. Unfortunately, the idea of ​​the surprise party with the whole family in Boston had been completely scrapped because Chris was filming in France for his next project and you were in Canada giving a press conference promoting your new movie.
The chances of celebrating her birthday together had been reduced to zero, worse you being the stubborn woman you are, you did not give your arm to twist. So after several fights with your representative and several scolding from your personal assistant for having disorganized your entire schedule. You had managed to escape for seven days, so that you and your daughter could surprise her father on her birthday.
You knew there was no better gift than to take Luna to her father, it had been a few long weeks since they last saw each other. Separating from his daughter was something that destroyed Chris, it had been a very difficult decision, but being a sensitive one. Luna had to be with you, she was breastfeeding, she couldn't be away from you for long.
After two plans, more than 16 hours of travel and a lot of stress, they had reached their destination. Paris Charles de Gaulle airport. The first part of the plan was complete, without wasting time, you settled Luna in her baby carrier on your chest, she cried in protest, she wanted to keep looking around her.
"I know, I know honey ... But you have to understand, mommy can't carry you in her arms, she has to carry the luggage" you murmured kissing her little head. You took the two suitcases and without wasting time you left the airport.
Luna had started to fidget, you understood her. The journey had been long, the two of them urgently needed rest. "Honey ... It was a short time, we just have to wait for Uncle Scott to come pick up us and we can go to sleep, preferably in Daddy's arms."
You took the phone from your backpack unlocking it to enter the chat with Scott, you sent the location and put it back in your pocket, without holding on any longer, you took off your chinstrap, a sigh of satisfaction left your lips when you felt the fresh air on your expensive. You removed little Evans from the carrier baby when you noticed that she kept complaining. Her small and expressive blue eyes looked around curiously.
"Do you need a ride?" A car pulled up on the street in front of you, the driver's window opened revealing Scott's face.
"Finally!" You exclaimed, he laugh getting out of the car, his arms wrapped around you affectively I returned the gesture for a few seconds.
Luna stretched her arms as she recognized her uncle waiting to be carried. Scott did not doubt it, and took her in his arms as he helped you store your bags in the trunk of the car.
You opened the back door, to throw your backpack there before entering and stretch your arms towards your daughter, who hesitating for a few seconds, accepted the change of arms.
"Sorry for the delay, your boyfriend is a pain in my ass. He asked me a thousand questions trying to figure out where I was going" Scott commented making sure the door is closed, he walked around the car and got back on as pilot, beginning to lead. "Tired?
"You have no idea" you sigh closing your eyes, a small smile adorns your lips knowing that they had achieved it, they would see Chris. "I swear that this is the only time that I cross half the world alone with a baby, next time I will bring someone to help me."
"Well, they are here, that's the important thing"
"Yeah, you're right." You answered, you look Luna who was beginning to close her eyes, it seemed that the dream was beginning to overcome her, you rock her lightly by kissing her plump cheek
Luna played entertainingly with the TV remote while you circled the hotel room, eager to see Chris.
You had to turn off your phone because he had not stopped calling and sending messages, your last message to him had been minutes before boarding, telling him that you were going to take a nap. More than 20 hours have already passed, so it was normal for him to worry, but you had decided not to answer him, it was not in your plans to ruin the surprise.
The clock said twelve o'clock at night, officially it was Chris's birthday, who should arrive at any moment.
Half an hour later, a message from Scott warning that he has already arrived at the hotel was what got you going. The suitcases were in Scott's room because if Chris came to see them he would instantly notice that they were there, you took your girl out of bed and ran to the bathroom but not before turning off all the lights.
Seconds after closing the door, the room door was heard opening. Chris's voice and Scott's laugh reached your ears.
"Don't laugh, idiot, this is serious. Y/N doesn't answer me, I think she's angry, but I don't know what I did." Scott made fun of his brother again, you smiled amused when you heard Chris's concern about the lack of messages. Luna, taking advantage of the fact that they were near the shower ledge, took a bottle of shampoo to drop it, making a great bang.
"Luna, you give away our position! You whispered indignantly, mini Evans babbling in amusement.
The door slammed open revealing a surprised Chris. Scott came in behind him, recording the reunion.
"Surprise!" You exclaimed, Luna shouted excitedly when she recognized her father. Chris wasting no time, drew them into a hug. "Luna and I decided that Daddy couldn't spend his 40th birthday away from us, right sweetheart?" The baby smiled stretching her hands to touch her father's face.
"Oh my girls, I missed you so much" Chris sighed still without letting go of the hug, he placed a kiss on Luna's forehead before turning her face and kissing you tenderly on the lips.
"Happy birthday darling, we love you very much, I hope you liked the surprise"
"I couldn't ask for a better thing" he smiled kissing your lips again.
"Don't say that, I have others that I'm sure you will love" you whispered with a mischievous glint in your eyes, Chris smirked. "We must put on day".
"For the love of God, you two are disgusting, talk about sex in front of the baby? Gross" Scott exclaimed in disgust.
Chris chuckled coming out of the bathroom with Luna on his right arm while his left was on your waist. He couldn't think of a better birthday start.
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oxygenforthewicked · 15 hours ago
for your lavellans (i do love me some elfs, i admit my bias) and the oc ask meme: 1, 5, 9, 13, 22, 29
Thanks for the ask! 🥰
1. What is your character's reaction to a minor inconvenience? Such as getting their jumper caught on a door handle?
Saeris is a bit of a short fuse at times, even with minor inconveniences 😅 I wouldn't say he's overly hot-headed, but he definitely gets irritated by little things.
Lana tries to keep cool over minor inconveniences, especially considering that “things could always be worse,” but will definitely start to lose it if these inconveniences/annoyances pile up too much.
Taelan kind of goes with the flow and adapts. Minor inconveniences don’t matter much to him in the grand scheme of things, so as long as he keeps his mindset on the bigger picture, he doesn’t sweat the small stuff. Though getting something caught on a door handle definitely takes the cake for small things that just might set him off 😂
5. Do they have any nicknames or pet names or other aliases?
Lana has a few nicknames. Lana is actually a nickname as well, as her full name is Eir'melana, which means "winter" (she was born during one of the worst winter storms in decades). "El" is the nickname used the most by her family, but her father also calls her "ma’da’ean," which means "my little bird." (Translations courtesy of Project Elvhen). And, of course, Varric’s nickname for her is “Emerald.”
9. What is your character's trigger point? What makes them angry, sad or makes them go off?
Not a lot of things make Taelan go off. He’s a fairly laid-back person and can take a lot of crap from other people, but the one thing that makes him go off is when someone betrays him or someone he cares about. Whether it’s a lie, a manipulation, or the person just taking advantage of him or someone he cares about, etc. He has no patience for betrayal and he rarely forgives it, if at all. (And, as you can imagine, this makes things with a certain ancient elf quite... tense.)
13. Describe your character's typical wardrobe for the regular day.
I'll answer this one for Lana. Lana is very used to more traditional Dalish keeper robes, but she definitely prefers to wear looser clothing that's easy to move in (usually in varying shades of green), footwraps, and she typically has her hair pulled back away from her face (as her hair is really long and gets in the way a lot).
22. What are their eating habits like? Do they snack throughout the day? Or do they eat sparsely?
I’ll answer this one for Taelan. He’s definitely a snacker. I would venture to guess he has snacks hidden all around his room for wherever he’s staying and eats frequently throughout the day. He’s always on the go (pretty much in every iteration I’ve written him in), so carrying around snacks is kind of a necessity in case his plans change. 
29. Are they an organised person? Or more laissez-faire?
For Taelan - It might come as a surprise because while he does give off kind of a “fly by the seat of your pants” vibe, but he’s actually a very organized and calculated person. The control that he has over himself and the way he keeps track of situations often puts him at an advantage, and while he doesn’t get stressed over losing control of a situation, he will make strides to gain that control back so that he is not caught off-guard.
For Lana - She’s very organized and by-the-book. She doesn’t really like not being in control of a situation, and dislikes it when there isn’t a clear plan. 
For Saeris - He’s the most laid-back of the three of them, surprisingly. He doesn’t really go into things with a plan, and often relies more on his instincts than coming at things from a calculated point of view. He’s just kind of a mess in general 😂
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timhatchlive · 16 hours ago
Who Will Be Your Leader?
How does a nation decline? Look at Israel. We come to the final chapter of the second book of Chronicles having examined from 1 Samuel to now that people very rarely got it right when it came to picking leaders. It started with Saul, then David was God’s choice, and after him a series of good, not so good and evil kings (not necessarily in that order) reigned over Israel and Judah. But if we look closely at the final days of the southern kingdom, we see a wide-angle lens view of what went wrong. 
2 Chronicles 36:1 (ESV) The people of the land took Jehoahaz the son of Josiah and made him king in his father’s place in Jerusalem.
Notice who put Jehoahaz on the throne? The people. This is how Israel got into this mess. They asked for a king and God gave them one who enslaved their sons and taxed them. Reprieve and greatness came when David was selected to replace Saul. Then there was the pinnacle of the kingdom under Solomon followed by Rehoboam and the secession of the northern tribes. But the over arching theme moves from God’s choice of king to the people’s choice followed by one final level - the enemy’s choice. Consider what happens shortly after the people make Jehoahaz king.
2 Chronicles 36:3-4 (ESV) Then the king of Egypt deposed him in Jerusalem and laid on the land a tribute of a hundred talents of silver and a talent of gold. [4] And the king of Egypt made Eliakim his brother king over Judah and Jerusalem, and changed his name to Jehoiakim. But Neco took Jehoahaz his brother and carried him to Egypt.
The nation of Judah is a picture for us of national and/or personal decline. Whoever leads you is going to affect you. And Judah has forsaken the Lord’s leading by repeatedly rejecting the Godly reforms of God’s chosen kings. They often replaced them with kings of their own choosing (not a great idea). Their preference typically led them further into decline. And the last stage is evident here. The enemies of Israel do the choosing for them. This is the beginning of the end: When God’s chosen people let the enemy choose who will be the influence over their lives. 
This begs the question for us as a nation. Are we getting it right in our choice of leaders? How can anyone say yes? America swings from left to right in their leadership and corruption continues to grow. It may just be a matter of time before this nation no longer really picks its own leaders, but rather, our enemies do.
Personally, we can address this topic as well. Who is leading you? Are you letting God and His Word be the influence? Or have you decided you know better and want leadership from someone you already agree with? I think Judah provides proof that though picking your own leadership seems right, it may end you up enslaved to an enemy who wants to steal kill and destroy you. 
Now God sought to turn them back:
2 Chronicles 36:15-16 (ESV) The LORD, the God of their fathers, sent persistently to them by his messengers, because he had compassion on his people and on his dwelling place. [16] But they kept mocking the messengers of God, despising his words and scoffing at his prophets, until the wrath of the LORD rose against his people, until there was no remedy.
They keep rejecting God and His ways, ignoring His messengers and despising repentance. It gets so bad the scripture has to admit, there was no cure. 
The final kings of Judah in 2 Chronicles 36 go from bad to worse as Babylon encroaches on their freedom and autonomy. And it all started when Israel rejected God’s leadership and influence and began to seek a leader of their own liking. May we learn this lesson in our lives and nation. May we seek god for the leader He gives. May we repent and turn to the author of our lives. He knows us and loves us. He will never lead us astray. 
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timhatchlive · 16 hours ago
Who Will Be Your Leader?
How does a nation decline? Look at Israel. We come to the final chapter of the second book of Chronicles having examined from 1 Samuel to now that people very rarely got it right when it came to picking leaders. It started with Saul, then David was God’s choice, and after him a series of good, not so good and evil kings (not necessarily in that order) reigned over Israel and Judah. But if we look closely at the final days of the southern kingdom, we see a wide-angle lens view of what went wrong. 
2 Chronicles 36:1 (ESV) The people of the land took Jehoahaz the son of Josiah and made him king in his father’s place in Jerusalem.
Notice who put Jehoahaz on the throne? The people. This is how Israel got into this mess. They asked for a king and God gave them one who enslaved their sons and taxed them. Reprieve and greatness came when David was selected to replace Saul. Then there was the pinnacle of the kingdom under Solomon followed by Rehoboam and the secession of the northern tribes. But the over arching theme moves from God’s choice of king to the people’s choice followed by one final level - the enemy’s choice. Consider what happens shortly after the people make Jehoahaz king.
2 Chronicles 36:3-4 (ESV) Then the king of Egypt deposed him in Jerusalem and laid on the land a tribute of a hundred talents of silver and a talent of gold. [4] And the king of Egypt made Eliakim his brother king over Judah and Jerusalem, and changed his name to Jehoiakim. But Neco took Jehoahaz his brother and carried him to Egypt.
The nation of Judah is a picture for us of national and/or personal decline. Whoever leads you is going to affect you. And Judah has forsaken the Lord’s leading by repeatedly rejecting the Godly reforms of God’s chosen kings. They often replaced them with kings of their own choosing (not a great idea). Their preference typically led them further into decline. And the last stage is evident here. The enemies of Israel do the choosing for them. This is the beginning of the end: When God’s chosen people let the enemy choose who will be the influence over their lives. 
This begs the question for us as a nation. Are we getting it right in our choice of leaders? How can anyone say yes? America swings from left to right in their leadership and corruption continues to grow. It may just be a matter of time before this nation no longer really picks its own leaders, but rather, our enemies do.
Personally, we can address this topic as well. Who is leading you? Are you letting God and His Word be the influence? Or have you decided you know better and want leadership from someone you already agree with? I think Judah provides proof that though picking your own leadership seems right, it may end you up enslaved to an enemy who wants to steal kill and destroy you. 
Now God sought to turn them back:
2 Chronicles 36:15-16 (ESV) The LORD, the God of their fathers, sent persistently to them by his messengers, because he had compassion on his people and on his dwelling place. [16] But they kept mocking the messengers of God, despising his words and scoffing at his prophets, until the wrath of the LORD rose against his people, until there was no remedy.
They keep rejecting God and His ways, ignoring His messengers and despising repentance. It gets so bad the scripture has to admit, there was no cure. 
The final kings of Judah in 2 Chronicles 36 go from bad to worse as Babylon encroaches on their freedom and autonomy. And it all started when Israel rejected God’s leadership and influence and began to seek a leader of their own liking. May we learn this lesson in our lives and nation. May we seek god for the leader He gives. May we repent and turn to the author of our lives. He knows us and loves us. He will never lead us astray. 
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melancholy-pal · 17 hours ago
How to feel motivated?
TLDR: I've had relatively unaddressed mental health problems for years. A lot of things have happened in my life to me and I'm just not a functioning adult now. How do I motivate myself?
Maybe I was molested by my older brother? I can't tell if I blocked that out or not, did I imagine it or am I sick in the head? Could it have been consensual? That's where it starts really, then comes the things I do know. My older sister was punched by my dad in the face, she was 15 I was 7 he threw the phone she tried to call the cops with at the window and broke it. It goes back to her wanting to be with a guy who was older than her.
After that we moved to another state in a brand new developing area. I had no friends in my neighborhood and my father made me make plans with people 2 weeks ahead of time or I couldn't do anything. This lasted for years (all my life actually but we only stayed in that house for three), and people who were interested in me originally moved on to mocking me. I never formed bounds or did activities, or joined clubs. Every day I would get dunked on, come home and get the tar beaten out of me by my maybe rapeist older brother who was 7 years older than me, then my sister would come home and get in a screaming match with my dad before leaving. Then he'd take it out on me, just downloading all his anger and pent up frustrations of the day on me. He didn't hit me, just made me sit down on the couch and take it. There was never a right answer to any question or comment.
Every single day. I cried my self to sleep at night every single night. I was absolutely bone shakingly terrified of saying or doing anything wrong that I developed a habit of repeating my action "correctly" to this day I still walk in and out of rooms if I'm thinking about something wrongly. Like if I address it or perform an action I'll have something horrible happen. My mom just sort of did nothing but read her books all day.
We ended up moving to another country and things got better with my home life. My sister stayed in America so no more fighting with my pops, my brother and I rarely fist fought, and my Dad and I actually started to get along by just watching TV. If I just let every comment slide he sort of evened out, but that just made my compulsions and fears worse. What if I don't do this it'll go back to how it was? I took on a lot, and I still wasn't able to really have friends. I missed everything, I never did clubs never really hung out. I brought this up to my dad all the time and his response became "Your time will come."
So I waited for years, came back to the states went to Highschool and kind of gave up after freshman year. It was to late to start any interest I had and I was tired of getting rejected so I just stayed home all the time. Friendships only ever went as far as standing around in the morning in a hallway, I did get offers to parties but I ended up just bailing because I lived to far away to go to them/my dad wouldn't let me. I was miserable. But 'my time will come" if I can go to college I can be fulfilled.
Then I went to college. It was for a year and a half, I had a complete mental breakdown because I didn't know how to socialize or date, or balance my life, or cook for my self or anything really. I came home at 19. Tried and failed to go back to college because I just couldn't handle driving, tried and failed to go to work because I can't handle the pressure.
I'm 25 now and I'm still at home every day. Doing nothing but playing games and watching the TV. I have no motivation, my interests are dead. I feel numb 98% of the time. But sometimes I feel depressed or angry at my life/ my family. My Dad says I'm his favorite kid, he accepted me when I came out, he offered to pay for me to go back to school tonight, and he wants to help me find a job. But I'm so unmotivated, I don't want to be unmotivated. I don't want to be 25 and living at home, I want dreams and drive and relationships but it's gotten to the point that even if I want to go to the store I CAN'T drive myself because of crippling fear. How do I overcome this? Please.
submitted by /u/WritingVisible [link] [comments] from Mental Health
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go1denjeon · 17 hours ago
Taking Over You
summary: desperate to pay off your student debts in order to graduate, you took up on the offer of your friend to become her aunt’s personal assistant over summer break but you gained more than what you bargained for when the past that you had thought you escaped from suddenly showed up and haunted you in ways worse than he ever did before. 
pairings: yandere!idol!jungkook x fem!reader
disclaimer: this story is dark. it will contain yandere themes such as possessiveness, obsessiveness, stalking, manipulation, gaslighting, noncon, dubcon, assault, violence, blood. if you are not comfortable with this, please skip this at once. i do not condone this type of behavior and this does not reflect the members of bts. 
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The feeling of falling caused you to wake up in a jolt. You sat up, clutching the sheets with your hands as you steadied your breathing. Your head was spinning and you suddenly had the urge to vomit. For a moment, you forgot where you were and what happened but as soon as you heard the soft humming and the showering running—everything came back to you all at once.
Los Angeles. The Ritz-Carlton. Lee Sungyeon. Jeon Jungkook.
You pulled your knees closer to your chest, burying your head in between as you squeezed your knees. You were so sure that even with his popularity, Jeon Jungkook would never lay a finger on you anymore. You were sure that you had escaped him. Yet, here you were, a million miles away from home and caged with the monster himself.
Jeon Jungkook used to be your world. Looking back, you should have seen the signs, recognized them and left before it go way out of hand but you were so in love with him that even when he managed to cut your communication with your friends, made decisions for you and control every aspect of your life—you rationalized this by him being attentive and caring. He manipulated you, in short, and it made you feel so stupid that you didn’t see it back then.
The boiling point for you was when he and his band, BTS, started getting attention not only domestically but globally. He wanted you to come with him to their tour and basically live with him. You, of course, declined, saying that you were going to attend college and needed to be in Busan to take care of your mother. Jungkook wasn’t happy that you weren’t being obedient and the persona that managed to slip through the cracks here and there was suddenly out in the open. Gone was your boyfriend that was sweet, caring, loving—enter Jeon Jungkook that was cunning, scary and completely insane. So, you broke up with him and this just heightened his masked persona.
He would stay out of your house every night, show up at your work unannounced and threatened you when you wouldn’t come with him. It came to a point where he trespassed your house and you found yourself underneath him when you woke up after feeling someone covering your mouth. You managed to get the upper hand that night, kneeing him in the groin area and your mother rushed to your room where she saw Jungkook groaning in pain. As you were about to call the police, however, Jungkook had left through the window.
Nevertheless, the next day you reported him but it didn’t do anything—then you realized why. His father was the prosecutor and most likely dismissed the complaint. Jungkook was also the city’s golden boy—everyone loved him. You were just a nobody.
It disgusted you so much. Fortunately, he got so busy with his work and you were able to go on with your life. So with the money your mother and you had saved, you moved to Seoul since you’ll be attending university there. It wasn’t very well known but they had an amazing journalism program so you enrolled.
You were on edge for the first two years of staying in Seoul, scared that Jungkook will show up one day but as the time went by and he made no appearance (besides the ads on subways and buses), you started to loosen up. You went out with your roommate, Miyeon, and her friends and mingled with other college students. It seemed like you were getting your life back together—until your mother fell ill and was hospitalized. Shortly after, she passed away because of hypovolemic shock.
It broke you beyond repair and it broke you financially as well. The hospital bill was nearing 3 million won, and you just didn’t have that much money. Instead of grieving, you were busy with your part time jobs, saving as much as you can in order to pay the bill. Two years later, you were still left with 2 million won.
A part of you wanted to reach out to Jungkook, knowing he will pay for everything but then you realized that will mean that you will allow the memory of your mother to be tainted by him and immediately scratched the idea—scolding yourself for even thinking about it. So, you worked and studied, worked and studied, not minding anything else but your goal of saving enough money to pay your debts.
If only you strayed away even just for a little, you would have noticed the eyes that watched your every move—maybe you wouldn’t be in this position.
You felt strong muscular arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the wetness seeped into the back of your shirt as well as the warmth that his naked chest radiated. “You should eat, baby.” 
If the situation was different, your heart would have melted at his sweet tone. You squeezed your knees tighter. “I’m not hungry.” You mumbled. 
“Baby,” He said. “You should—,” 
“I want my luggage, Jungkook.” You stated, grabbing his arms and removing it from your waist. You quickly left the bed and stood at the edge, arms crossed as you glared at the freshly showered Jungkook sitting on the bed. He was shirtless, his chiseled chest shining with water droplets and his legs were covered with a pair of black sweatpants. He’d gotten so muscular over the years, you noticed, and looking at his figure heightened your fear—it would really be hard to escape him but at the same time, anything’s possible. 
He ran his fingers through his long, dark hair. “I can just buy you new clothes.” 
“No,” You said sternly and he raised an eyebrow. “Everything I need is in that luggage, Jungkook. The documents I needed for my job.” 
“You don’t need to work here, baby.” He chuckled, standing up. 
“Come on,” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “What the hell do you expect me to do here then? Stay here while you work? I didn’t come here for you, Jeon Jungkook.” 
“I expect you to do everything I say,” He said darkly. “Or suffer the consequences.” 
You sighed deeply, placing a hand on your hip. “Get me my luggage. I’ll just take my clothes and my laptop. Take—,” You hesitated, biting your lower lip. You looked at him and he stared at you expectantly. You shut your eyes. “Take my passport.” 
A smirk played on his lips. He made his way towards you. “Are you sure about that, baby? Are you sure you wanna make a deal with me?” 
“Well either that or I don’t get my things,” You snapped. “So, take my passport so you know I can’t leave and I’ll take my clothes and my laptop.” 
He placed a hand on the crook of your neck, his thumb caressing your throat. You swallowed nervously, breathing heavily. “And what if I don’t agree with it?” 
“You mean you have your conditions,” You translated for him. “What are they?” 
He smiled. “You still know me then, baby girl.” 
You were repulsed. You used to enjoy hearing him call you that, made you feel giddy inside but now—it made your skin crawl. 
“I’ll agree to your conditions if you do everything I say,” Jungkook stated. He cupped your face. “Kiss me. Like how you used to.” 
“W-What?” Your eyes widened. You grabbed his arms. “What are you—,” 
“My condition, baby,” He said. “You do everything I say, no buts. Everytime you do, you get one deal from me.” 
You felt so suffocated. But at the same time, his condition was promising. Your mind was in a haze but you knew this was the best scenario as of the moment. “Okay.” 
Jungkook’s eyes darkened. “Come here.” He grabbed your hand as he took a step back and sat on the edge of the bed. He tugged at your hand and with a clenched jaw, you walked towards him until you were completely in front of him. “Sit.” His tone was commanding, authoritative.
Avoiding his gaze, you settled on his lap and you seemed to stop breathing at the intimate position. Jungkook took in a sharp breath and without a warning, he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, making you gasp when your core rubbed against already hard cock. “Fuck, I missed you, Y/N,” He breathed out, biting his lower lip. “Kiss me.”
You did. You pressed your lips onto his, and placed your hands on his shoulders. Just get this over with, you thought as he squeezed your waist. You started slow, because as he requested—kiss him how you used to. You shut your eyes tightly, squeezing his shoulders as you picked up the pace and shifted on his lap, emitting a low groan from him. You parted your lips, an invitation for Jungkook’s tongue to slip in and he smirked. This was how you kissed him. His hands moved to your neck, pulling your head closer to his, your foreheads touching. His tongue seemed to explore every corner of your mouth, never having enough. You tried to keep up with his pace but Jungkook kissed you as if his life depended on it. You were breathless; you tried pulling away but Jungkook held your neck.
You groaned into the kiss, digging your nails into his shoulders. Finally, Jungkook broke away and you gasped for air. He held you closely, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you still hate me?” He mumbled into your skin.
“I do.” You replied breathlessly. “Can I have my luggage now?”
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Jungkook was true to his word. As he was getting ready, your luggage had arrived and you quickly grabbed it from him and opened it. You were relieved when you saw that everything was still inside but the happiness was momentarily when Jungkook held out his hand and said, “Your end of the bargain, baby. Don’t think I forgot.”
Of course you didn’t, you thought, as you dug inside your backpack for your passport. You bit your lip as you took ahold of the item. If I give this to him now, how the hell am I gonna get it back?
“Shall I take it on my own?” He asked, clearly impatient.
Sighing, you handed him your passport and he grinned, slipping it inside the pocket of his hoodie. “Good girl.”
You ignored the comment and sat down on one of the chairs near the entrance to the balcony, taking your laptop out from your backpack and placing it on the small circular table in front of you. You switched on the device, the familiar sound ringing in the air.
“I don’t want you speaking to anyone back in Seoul.” Jungkook said, voice stern.
“Fuck off,” You muttered under your breath. “What’s the password for the WiFi?”
“Like I said, I don’t want you talking to anyone. You can’t use the internet without me.” He explained it to you as if you were some five-year-old who and it pissed you off to no end.
“What the hell, Jungkook?!” You exclaimed, slamming your hand on the table out of extreme frustration. “We had a deal.” You hissed.
“You said you can have your clothes and laptop—you never said anything about connecting to the WiFi.”
You took in a sharp breath. “I need it because I have work to do, Jungkook.”
“You don’t really understand how conditions work, do you, baby?” Jungkook swung his backpack over his shoulder and walked towards you. He crouched down beside you, placing a hand on your thigh. His doe eyes looked up at you, amused. “What do I get in return?”
“What do you want? Just say it.” You said, rubbing your temple. Your head hurt like a bitch because of him.
Jungkook hummed, caressing your thigh. “Your phone.” 
“No.” You said, standing up. 
“Then we have no deal, baby.” Jungkook stood up as well. 
“Jungkook,” You said through gritted teeth. “Even if I have my phone, I couldn’t possibly contact anyone. I have no internet connection or roaming data. I wasn’t able to buy a sim card here.” 
“Are you hiding something?” He asked, dropping his backpack on the floor. He grabbed your arm. “Just give me the damn phone, Y/N.” 
“Even if I am, it’s none of your business! We’re not together anymore, Jungkook! Get that through your fucking head.” You yelled. You were livid. You were furious. You pushed past him, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you back. You were sure that you heard your bone crack. 
“Don’t think I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been up to the past years, Y/N. I know everything,” He hissed. “I know about Miyeon. I know about that fucking guy Jaewon. I know about your mother passing away.” 
You were mortified. “W-What?” 
He smiled sinisterly. “When I said that you’re mine, I mean it. I own you. Mind, body, and fucking soul. Even your thoughts are mine. You really didn’t think that I would just let you go, huh, Y/N?” He grabbed your face with his free hand. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine. I don’t even want other people looking at what’s mine. Get that through your fucking head.” 
With all your might, you pushed him away from you, body shaking in fear. “A-All these y-years... y-you’ve been watching me?” You felt like fainting. 
He picked up his bag. “Every move. It’s not easy escaping me, Y/N. You should know it by now. You should know what I’m capable of.” 
You were frozen in your spot. When your sense of security had been torn, it left a bitter taste in your mouth and suddenly, you felt exposed. Even when Jungkook took your phone and placed a kiss on your temple, saying he’ll be back in a few hours—you remained on the spot. 
All these years you thought you had escaped him, but in reality, he was just waiting for the right time to attack and you, absentmindedly, walked right into the trap. 
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There was a knock on the door. Quickly, you were on your feet. It definitely wasn’t Jungkook—he wouldn’t knock. After all, this was his room. He also hadn’t mention anything about anyone coming but you didn’t care. This was an opportunity and you were more than willing to seize it. Grabbing your belongings, you made your way to the door and stood on your toes to look into the peephole. 
Your heart jumped at the sight of someone on the other side. You couldn’t make up who it was since you could only see the back of their heads. Nonetheless, you banged on the door, exclaiming, “Hello?! Can you please open the door?” You were breathing rapidly. Taking a step back, you waited for the door to open. 
Eyebrows furrowed, you opened your mouth to speak but closed it once more. How did they know your name? You tighten your grip around the handle of your luggage. “Who are you?” 
You heard the soft chime followed by the sound of clicking. The door opened, a foot was the first thing you saw then the entire figure came into view. It had been a long time since you had seen him but you still recognized him right away. He looked so much like Jungkook but without the insanity and tattoos. This was his brother, Junghyun. 
“Y/N, what are you—,” 
You didn’t know what it was but seeing him, someone from your past that you didn’t hate, brought an overwhelming wave of emotions in you and you found yourself running towards him for an embrace. He had been like an older brother, a father figure of sort to you when you were younger. He looked out for you which pissed Jungkook off but, of course, he didn’t show it. Instead, he poured it onto you behind the doors.
Junghyun wrapped his arms around you. “Y/N, what happened? Are you okay? Jesus, I can’t believe you’re here.” 
You didn’t know if he knew about the falling out you had with his brother. After all, he was in the military when it happened. You also weren’t sure if he knew what his brother did to you over the last years. Tears continuously poured out of your eyes and you hugged him tightly. 
He rubbed your back comfortingly. “Shh, hey Y/N, it’s okay. I’m here now.” 
“J-Junghyun,” You croaked. You pulled away, head hanging low. 
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He sounded so worried. His hand rubbed your arm soothingly. “You can always tell me everything, Y/N.” 
You took a deep breath. This was your chance. “Jungkook, he—,” 
“Hyung, what are you doing?” Furious, Jungkook marched inside the room and stood between you and his brother.
“I was clearly comforting Y/N, Jungkook. What did you do? You should know better. You don’t treat people like this. Why was the door locked from the outside?” Junghyun snapped, rolling his eyes at his younger brother. He could sense that Jungkook was being territorial and while he understood, it didn’t justify whatever it was that his brother did that made you sob like that.
“It was?” Jungkook feigned innocence. “I didn’t know,” He said as he made his way towards you. He cupped your face. “Why didn’t you call me, baby?” His eyes were menacing.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I couldn’t find my phone. I think I lost it at the airport when I arrived.”
It was easier to be brave when Jungkook wasn’t around. He smiled, and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “We have to get you a new one then.”
“Why don’t you have a phone in your hotel room, Jungkook?” Junghyun asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jungkook turned to face his brother. “Sasaengs would ring it nonstop. Despite the money the company for these hotels to shut up, they would give up our information for more.”
At the mention of sasaengs, Junghyun’s eyes softened. He nodded. Placing his hands on his hips, he turned to you. “Are you okay now, Y/N? You must have been so scared, getting locked in here.”
Jungkook snaked his arm around your waist. “Y-Yes,” You replied. “I’m sorry for worrying you, oppa.”
Beside you, Jungkook stiffened and you knew you fucked up big time. Recalling your past, you knew Jungkook had a thing for you calling him that. He loved it so much. He loved hearing you call him that, especially when he fucked you senselessly.
Junghyun smiled at you. “It’s fine.”
“So, what brings you here, hyung? I thought you were in England.” Jungkook asked, his thumb drawing circles on your lower back.
“I have business to take care of here. I saw Seji so I thought I’ll drop by and see how you’re doing.” Junghyun replied.
“I’m fine. Busy with the tour. Where’s Seulgi and Cheonsa?”
Seulgi, you knew her. She was Junghyun’s wife. Cheonsa, on the other hand, was unfamiliar to you. But at the mention of her name, Junghyun’s face brightened. You guessed this was their daughter.
“They’re on their flight now. Cheonsa can’t wait to see you.” Junghyun chuckled. “Y/N, I can’t wait for you to meet my daughter.”
You forced a smile on your face. “Me too.”
Junghyun left shortly, Jungkook walking him out. You ran your fingers through your hair. You were so close. Why the fuck was he always a step ahead? You sat down on the edge of the bed when Jungkook stormed back inside, and you spoke first before he could shout at you, “I’m gonna take a shower.” You announced, looking at him, deadpanned.
You stood up, picking up your luggage and placing it on top of the mattress. “I said, I’m gonna take a shower.” You unzipped your luggage, taking your clothes out and neatly placing them on the mattress.
He did not speak, only stood behind you and hugged you. “I missed seeing you after every practice.” You placed a kiss on the exposed skin on your shoulder, causing shivers to run down your spine. He made a trail, until it reached the soft spot behind your ear and without a warning—he bit it, causing a gasp to escape your lips and your body to flinch towards him. His hot breath fanned your ear as he smirked at your reaction, and he sucked in the spot he bit. You bit your lower lip, closing your eyes. It felt so good but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
You turned around and pushed him away. “Can I please just have this time to myself?”
Jungkook clenched his jaw. “Make it quick then. I’ll be here.”
You nodded wordlessly. It had been a long day. You were tired, you needed to sleep. Your body was aching for it. Mechanically, you prepared everything you needed for your shower which weren’t much—toiletries, towel and clothes. You were definitely not going to change in front of Jungkook. He had flopped down on the chair near the balcony, phone in hand. From your peripheral vision, you saw his eyebrows creased as he focused on whatever it was that he was watching but by the sound of it, you guessed that it was a video of their rehearsal. Jungkook was passionate about his craft. Just like how he was passionate about everything, everyone in his life.
You had made it inside the huge bathroom. The tiles were cold as it was also air-conditioned. You locked the door behind you, and heaved out a sigh. Your muscles ached and you only felt it then. Placing your necessities inside the shower and your towel outside the door, hanging by the rail. You quickly took off your clothes and folded them neatly, stacking them on top of one another and then placed them on the sink besides your fresh clothes.
You made sure that the water was warm enough before you stepped under it. It was so refreshing—there was something about the water that relaxed you or maybe because it was the first time all day since you had arrived that you were completely, completely alone. You let the water soak you, eyes closed.
Then, you grabbed your shampoo—watermelon scented, of course—and poured a great deal on your palm. Once you had lathered it, you massaged your head, running your fingers through your tangled hair. It was so relaxing and the smell reminded you of when you were a little girl and your mother helped you take a shower. Once you had lathered the shampoo on your hair, you grabbed your soap and lathered it onto your body.
You were feeling so much better—physically, at least. Once your body was covered in soap, you started to rinse. You wanted to stay here forever. And for a while, you did. You just stood under the warm water, letting it be the source of your comfort until Jungkook knocked (more like banged) on the door and told you to hurry or he’ll come in.
“I’m coming!” You answered, shutting the faucet off and stepping out of the shower cubicle. You wrapped your body with your towel and used one of the towels provided by the hotel to wrap your hair. “I’ll be right outside!” You exclaimed as you hurriedly dressed up.
You brushed your teeth and washed your face in a rush, gathered your things and unlocked the bathroom door. You opened it, expecting Jungkook to be standing outside but he was nowhere in sight. Thank God, you thought, and stepped outside, shutting the lights off in the bathroom before closing the door.
You made your way into the room proper, beelining towards your lugagge where you grabbed a laundry bag and placed your dirty clothes inside. As you turned on your heel, towel hanging on your arm, you saw Jungkook emerging from the mini hallway that led to the entrance of his hotel room with paper bags in one hand and the other holding a plastic bag. “Eat.” He said and you nodded.
“I’ll just hang this.” You told him and proceeded towards the closet. You grabbed a hanger and hung both wet towels on the handle of the closet door.
Timidly, you walked towards him and sat down in front of him. He was already preparing the meal. It looked very appetizing. It dawned on you that you hadn’t eaten all day. The dishes looked familiar as well and when you recognized them, your eyes shot at Jungkook. “It’s your favorite. I cooked them and had it prepared by the kitchen staff.” He said, glancing at you briefly before continuing on setting up the food.
You stared at him—how the hell could he be this sweet yet so terrifying at the same time?
“You didn’t have to.” You told him.
“I wanted to,” He replied, grabbing a bottle of soju from the plastic bag and placing it on the table. “So you eat.”
“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Y/N, I—,”
“I didn’t come here to eat with you, Jungkook. I came here to work because—,” You stopped yourself. He didn’t need to know that.
“Because?” He inquired, opening the bottle of soju.
“Because it would be great on my resume. So, I wanna make a deal—I’ll eat with you and stay with you as long as I get to work under Lee Sungyeon.”
Jungkook leaned his back against the chair, a bottle of soju in one hand. He took a swig, staring at you. “Staying with me consists of sleeping.”
You clenched your jaw and glanced at the bed few inches away from you. “Fine. Only sleeping.” You reiterated.
Jungkook chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Fine. You have a deal, baby. So, eat up. You’re gonna need it.”
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Jungkook’s arm was draped over your waist, his chin resting on top of your head. Your shirt had ridden up, exposing a good amount of your skin which Jungkook rubbed circles on. Your head rested against his chest, one arm across his stomach and the other under him. Some movie was playing on the television but you weren’t paying attention. From an outsider’s perspective, the scene would have been normal—two people cuddling while a movie plays in the background but this was anything but normal. After eating, Jungkook had pulled into the bed and enveloped you with his body. This was the start of your deal.
“I know why you’re here.” Jungkook said after moments of silence.
You weren’t surprised. “Of course you do.”
“So why the fuck didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you pay for everything.” He said, irritated.
You needed to be careful with the words you spoke if you wanted him to keep the end of his bargain. “I didn’t want any help from anyone, including you.”
“I’m not fucking ‘anyone’, I’m your boyfriend,” He hissed. Suddenly, he pulled you on top of him. Your eyes widened at the sudden action. Your face flushed in embarrassment, avoiding his gaze as he started to rub your waist. “Kiss me.”
Again, it wasn’t a request.
You had to play your cards right. Jungkook wasn’t a god. He was still human. He was bound to make a mistake. You managed to escape him once—who’s to say you can’t do it the second time around?
You lowered your body as he gripped your thighs.
Men, you thought, as you tilted your head and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. You felt his breathing increased by ten fold. His grip around your thighs tightened, nails digging into your flesh. You wasted no time in going slow, opening your mouth immediately and let Jungkook take the lead. You moved your body against his, your core rubbing against the waistband of his sweatpants. He groaned, hands moving up to your ass and he squeezed them, making you gasp. He smirked, kneading them as he sucked and bit your lips. You lowered your body, pulling away from the kiss, aligning your core on top of his hard cock. Jungkook sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening at the sight of you rubbing your pussy against his cock. You closed your eyes, biting your lower lip as you gripped his shoulder tightly. The friction of your clothed members added to the erotica and stimulation. You moaned into his ear and you felt his cock twitch. Jungkook was strong but he also had his weakness—it was you. “Oppa,” You moaned, quickening your pace.
“Fuck! Baby,” His breathing was ragged as you moaned ‘oppa’ into his ear endlessly. You were close to cumming and with his tight grip, you knew he was too. You placed your hands on his chest. “Cum for me, baby.” He hissed, slipping his hands inside your shirt and your bra, kneading your breasts.
You let out a strangled moan as you came and Jungkook flipped you over so he was now on top. He continued rubbing his cock on your pussy, groaning and moaning. When he finally came, he collapsed on top of you.
You were both breathing heavily. “I love you so much, baby.” Jungkook whispered in your ear.
You give into their needs and they crumble.
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TAGS: @min-nicoleee
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Today is my father's birthday. He invited me to go golfing with him. And all I feel is guilt.
I know it's just another attempt to keep me. He invited me in the same sentence he read the terms and conditions. And yet I feel like a monster for not responding.
I know I don't owe him my loyalty. But the fact that he seems so unphased by everything is fucking with my head. I don't think he really believes I'm never coming back, which makes me not believe it either.
But I'm trying really hard here. He isn't safety. He isn't gonna make me feel better. Nothing he has to give will ever be worth what it's gonna cost. And yet I feel like I'm abandoning him. I feel like maybe thats how other people see me. That I'm not worth it. And I want to stay because I don't want that to be true.
And I have to remind myself that I'm not him. I'm not. But what if I'm lying to myself. I know I'm not as bad as him, but there's enough of him in me that it makes me scared. I know my hands aren't clean. I know I've hurt people. And usually it's when I don't mean to.
But I think that makes it worse. I think I would feel less like a horrible person if when I hurt people it was something I planned out and controlled. It feels like something is fundentally broken about me that I try to do good and I still fuck it up. It's so much easier to want to be bad on purpose than to try to be good and do a rather poor job. I think I like to convince myself I'm the first. I know I'm not. It would imply some kind of intentionality that I don't possess.
And that's so much worse. If you don't mean to do something, how do you stop. I know I'm spiraling. And I was doing so good about not falling down this rabbit hole.
But I keep thinking about her saying that I'm just going to use everything I know about her to hurt her worse. And what if that's true. What if that's all I know how to do.
I don't really think it is. But I don't know it isn't. I don't know for certain. I know I'm the villan in more than a few peoples stories. I know I'm the crazy one. And I know I'm the villan in stories even when that isn't true. My mom called me this week and told me I was abusing her because I told her not to come over to my place when I wasn't there and move all my belongings. And that's such a wildly untrue statement that I see it for that. But not fully. I still spent the rest of the day spiraling.
When I think about it, that's what prompted this. I feel like I'm hurting her. And that's confusing because sometimes I do want to hurt her. I'm so mad at her for all the things she did to me and the things she still does to me when I give her the chance. But I don't want her to be hurt.
And honestly I'm not sure if she even is. Or if she's just trying to convince me she is because she knows it works. I'm so tired of trying to win a game with rigged rules.
I think what I want is everyone to tell me over and over that I didn't do anything wrong. But it is more complicated than that. That's not the full picture. But she isn't owed my commitment. When I get past the initial pain of being left, I feel so much better with her gone. But I feel good enough to forget that and I go back.
I don't want to be around people who make me feel like I'm hard to love or a bad person. I don't want to be soaked in shame and self loathing and fear. It's so much easier when I'm away from that. And I just have to hold on until the withdraw hits. I know it gets worse before it gets better. But I want to be done.
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fonulyn · 23 hours ago
happy birthday @tatsueli 💖 i love you, i hope you have a wonderful day 💖 here have some chreon and dancing ;) (feat. a bit of claire :’D)
“Chris, please, I’m begging you.”
With a sigh, Chris let his eyes fall shut. Maybe if he wasn’t looking at Claire’s huge, pleading eyes he wouldn’t actually fold like a house of cards like he always did when she asked something of him. He’d always been ridiculously bad at denying her anything, ever since their parents died and it was just the two of them against the world.
But this? This was too much.
“Why can’t you ask… someone else?” Chris tried lamely, looking up at her and damnit. He took a sip of his beer, desperately wishing it was something stronger. “Aren’t you supposed to dance with Steve?”
“I’m marrying him, of course we’re going to dance at the wedding,” Claire answered with a truly impressive eyeroll. “But it’s a tradition to have a father-daughter dance, and if you haven’t noticed, our father has kind of been dead for twenty five years!” She’d been trying to convince him for so long that she was beginning to get frustrated, but somehow she swallowed it down and grabbed one of his hands in both of hers, waiting for his full attention.
“You’re my brother, Chris. You’re my closest family,” she said gently, smiling at him. “It would mean a lot to me.”
It was game over, then. Helpless to resist, Chris nodded. “Alright. Sign me up for those lessons.”
And as Claire threw herself at him for a hug, he figured that things could be worse. 
“Leon, please, I’m begging you.”
Unimpressed, Leon gave Claire a disbelieving look. “Why the hell would you sign Chris up for dancing lessons on Saturdays?” There was something fishy about this. She’d had her nonprofit organization for years and she’d been busy pretty much every single Saturday for at least the past two. So for her to sign Chris up for the lesson that took place Saturday mornings was just… plain stupid or some kind of a devious plan. And Claire wasn’t stupid.
“It was an honest mix-up,” Claire explained, trying to blink at him from the big pleading eyes that worked on Chris every single time. On Leon? Maybe two times out of three. “I requested the ones on Sunday but apparently the class is so full they bumped some people on Saturdays. And I can’t change it now! The wedding is in five months and he needs to know how to waltz before that.”
“And you’re asking me because?” Leon still wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about this. Dancing lessons alone weren’t something he’d want to spend his scarce free time on, and doing dancing lessons just to serve as someone to get their feet tread on by Chris? Even less so. “You could’ve asked Jill. Or Sheva. Or, I don’t know, Rebecca?”
“That’s so old fashioned, c’mon,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t think you of all people would be so heteronormative.”
“Fine,” Leon groaned, “Barry? Carlos? Piers? Jake?”
Claire slapped his shoulder to shut him up. “You’re being an asshole,” she grumbled. “If you want, I can give you detailed reasons why I think you’re the best candidate. But here’s the top two: you actually know how to dance, and Chris likes you. None of the others have both of those in their favor.”
Somehow Leon had a feeling he would end up regretting this. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.” 
“Jesus Christ, Chris,” Leon hissed, trying to keep his voice down so that their dancing instructor – a lovely lady with a sweet smile and absolutely wretched temper – wouldn’t hear them and come set them straight once again. “If you step on my toes one more time I might never walk again!”
That immediately sent a wave of guilt through Chris and he looked down, sheepish and apologetic. He tried to let go of Leon and step back, but Leon didn’t let him. “No,” he said, drawing Chris’ attention back to himself. “I’m not listening to another lecture on how we’re doing this wrong.” There was a small grin tugging at his lips, and it immediately made Chris relax a fraction. “Hold me close, Redfield.”
That drew a small smile from Chris, who even huffed out the tiniest of laughs and obediently tightened his hold where his hand was on Leon’s waist. They’d already been told off multiple times because apparently they weren’t close enough and that was why they were tripping on each other’s feet all the time. “I’m sorry,” he apologized anyway, “I’m not doing it on purpose.”
And he wasn’t, he truly wasn’t. He’d tried his very best to pay attention, to focus on the steps and to commit them to memory. Truthfully he didn’t think he was that bad at learning new skills, and he at least understood music so getting a hang of the rhythm shouldn’t have been impossible. Yet the second they started moving all he could think of was how warm Leon was right there against him, how they were so close all he’d need to do was tilt his head and he could kiss—no.
Ah damn, Chris thought, grimacing and stilling in his movements. The second he’d let himself get distracted he’d again stepped on Leon’s toes. “Sorry,” he said, for the millionth time that day. If it had even been their first session, he might’ve been excused, but this was already the sixth Saturday they spent with him treading on Leon’s feet and apologizing nonstop.
Instead of being angry about it, Leon gave him a weirdly calculating look, before gracefully stepping back and out of the circle of Chris’ arms. “C’mon,” he said, using the hold he still had of Chris’ hand to pull him along. As they passed the instructor, currently correcting another dancing pair, Leon only waved at her quickly. “We’ll be back.”
Confused, Chris let Leon lead him outside to the parking lot, all the way to the furthest corner that was shadowed by the large trees as it was right next to a park. There Leon turned back to face him, stepping uncomfortably close until they were in their dancing position again. “So,” he started, drawing Chris’ attention. “Let’s try this again, without pressure.”
“I don’t think—” Chris started to protest. It wasn’t the pressure that made it impossible for him to learn the steps, it was Leon.
Leon was having none of it, though. He started moving, and even if he was still going through the steps Claire would be dancing at the wedding, he was definitely the one leading and Chris was helplessly along for the ride. “You think too much,” he said, pulling Chris along. “Just focus on staying close and mirror what I do.”
“This is—” Chris started but yet again he was cut off, as Leon unceremoniously picked up the pace and started swirling them around the parking lot. It was faster than inside, faster than the waltz would be at the wedding, and somehow the pace meant that Chris didn’t have any time to focus on anything else. He was forced to simply try to keep up, all of his focus on making his feet work quick enough.
And suddenly he didn’t step on Leon’s toes even once.
They kept dancing around the parking lot for what felt like a small eternity, and when Leon finally slowed down until they came to a halt, Chris couldn’t stop practically beaming at him. “How did you do that!?” he asked, honestly impressed.
“You just needed to get out of your head,” Leon said, flashing Chris a grin. He let go of Chris’ hand, but his other hand remained on Chris’ shoulder, as if he’d forgotten it there. Not that Chris minded it, at all, even if the way they stood there nearly chest to chest was probably a bit too close to be entirely appropriate. “Why are you so nervous about this? Claire isn’t expecting you to be brilliant, you just need to twirl her around the dance floor for two minutes and that’s it.”
“It’s not her,” Chris admitted, his throat suddenly dry. Maybe it was because they were alone that he found the courage from somewhere, or maybe it was Leon’s palm on his shoulder, maybe it was something else entirely… but somehow Chris dug up the courage to blurt out the truth. “It’s you.”
“Me?” Leon asked, confused.                                                                  
“Leon, I…” Chris grimaced a little, cursing how decidedly not-suave he was. “When you’re this close to me? All I can think of is how it would be to kiss you.”
Leon’s expression morphed into a shocked one, before something like understanding dawned on his features. To Chris’ surprise, he didn’t get mad or demand an explanation, he didn’t make a big deal out of it at all. Instead of anything more dramatic all he did was shift a little closer, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a grin. “Then do it.”
“Then d—” Chris choked. He looked at Leon. Unblinkingly, Leon looked back.
So Chris leaned in.
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