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wordstome · 5 months

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COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs

Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader

⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan

⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.

*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter

p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh

Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.

Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.

That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.

Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.

You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.

Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?

Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)

Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)

König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.

You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)

Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.

You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.

Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.

I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?

As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3

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sweetlyskz · 2 years

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For Better or for Worse

Chapter One: The Arrangement

Pairing: poly!ot7 x reader

Genre: Mafia Au, Strangers to lovers, yandere Au

warnings: none

November 16, 2015

Fall was always your favorite season of the year. It's when you and your father got to spend the most time with each other. However this year was different than any other.

"What are the streets saying these days, Gwi-Nam?"

"Rumor has it Bangtan just acquired some territory in Gwangju and Islan, right near Seoul", Gwi-Nam told your father. "Next up is Busan."

Your father huffed. "Who is Bangtan?" He asked.

Knock Knock.

Your father was not surprised to see you enter his office so suddenly. After school you would always visit him in his office, knowing that's usually where he is. You waved at Gwi-Nam and plopped in the chair in front of your fathers desk, paying little attention to their conversation.

"Bangtan is a new gang, led by a man named Kim Namjoon. Apparently, he's recruiting people from all over South Korea to Join his gang and has lots of powerful people already lined up" Gwi-Nam answered.

"So your telling me that a rookie gang leader has already obtained two whole territories?" Your father didn't seem as calm as you thought he would be. He honestly looked kind of worried.

"This is not good", he continued. "Any form of contact on this Namjoon kid? Maybe we can turn things around while he's still young and impressionable."

A couple days later and your father was finally able to have a meeting with Bangtan. However, he wasn't just having a meeting with the leader like he was expecting. After Kim Namjoon entered your fathers office, six other bodies followed.

"I apologize for not informing you sooner", Namjoon started. "But these are my partners and co leaders of Bangtan. Therefore, they couldn't miss this meeting."

It was hard to hear the whole conversation between them and your father from outside his office. You eavesdropped as hard as you could before hearing shuffling footsteps. In attempts to hide, you turned the corner into one of the many hallways in your family mansion.

"Listen, we appreciate the offer", You heard one of them say with a condescending tone. "However, there's already seven of us. Its not ideal for Bangtan." Letting curiousity get the better of you, you peeked your head out of the hallway, seeing the gang and your father standing in front of his office doors.

"You wont be able to acquire even a piece of Seoul territory without me", Your father promised.

"Wanna bet?"

While your father and the leader of Bangtan went back and forth, one of the members strayed away, walking in your direction. Did he see you? I mean it sure wasn't the best hiding spot but you tried.

"Jungkook, where are you headed?" He turned back around.

"Hyung, look", The boy pointed to the hallway you where hiding in. Everyone turned their heads to see you peeking out. Now feeling exposed, you walk out into the open, waving at everyone shyly.

"And who may this fine young woman be?" One of the members looked you up and down. Gwi-Nam ran and grabbed your arm, escorting you to your room.

"She is my daughter, and I swear if you even think about-"

"She's very beautiful, sir", Namjoon stated as we walked towards the exit. "I would watch her carefully. Some men might fight to have someone as gorgeous as her by their side."

April 20, 2018

Bangtan had become the Dracula of South Korea. They now owned territory in every single city- even most of Seoul.

"You put up a hell of a good fight I'll tell you that", Namjoon laughed in your fathers face. "You know I bet that I could take Seoul territory by today. Aish, now I owe Jin a meal.”

He rolled his eyes. "I promised you that wouldn't happen, remember? Not unless you let me in on bangtan affairs."

"Well I've obviously proved that I can do it without you. Out of the twenty five districts in Seoul you now only own three of them."

He gulped nervously.

"Face it. You've met your match old man."

This couldn't be the end. It couldn't possibly end like this, at the hands of his enemy and not the hands of old age or retirement. Grasping for straws, your father gets desperate. "What do you want? H-how can I keep my territory?"

Joon sighed. "Well there is one thing you have that I want. You can't get your territory back but if you give me her than I'll let you keep what you have left."

Her.

Namjoon said her.

"You m-mean my..."

"Yes. Our lovely Y/n", He smiled. "Where is she anyway? All the little ones do is talk about her."

Your father felt sick to his stomach. What did he want with you, anyway? "N-no, you can't have her! I won't let you!"

"Listen, I'm trying to be nice here. Do it for Y/n, for your legacy."

He fought tooth and nail to keep you, but it was time to weigh his options and right now this was the best one. Unfortunately, you were still off at college during the time of the arrangement, but Namjoon didn't worry. They'd get to have you when you got back home.

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vivwritesfics · 2 years

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The King, His Men, and I

Part Two

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Word Count 1.4K

Summary: Prince Remus never wanted to get married. He loved his single life, being in love with his best friends and not being king. But then his father sets him up. Remus never wanted to fall in love for the forth time. Neither did his guards. Neither did his wife to be. But none of them could help it

Warnings: Drinking, that's probably it

POLY!MARAUDERS X FEMALE!READER

ROYAL!AU

This took way longer than I wanted it to because I've moved across the country with my friends and every night has been fun drinking or cosy night in using my laptop for a TV. But Part three has been started and, well, I'm really flipping excited for this series.

"What's on the agenda for today, Lils?" Asked the young princess. As far as she was concerned she was up and ready for the day with nothing to do.

Lily placed down the tea she knew Y/N would give to her and cleared her throat, trying to sound as proper as ever. Lily couldn't explain the pressure of being in this castle, foreign eyes on her, ready to scrutinise her every step. "You have dinner with the King, Queen and the Prince this evening, your highness."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Drop the act, Lils. Nobody's gonna dare throw you in the dungeons when I'm around. Now, is that all we've got going on?"

Too scared to speak, Lily nodded. The princess clasped her hands together, wide grin on her face. "Perfect! Let's go explore."

Lily had known what explore meant long before she and the princess were sneaking out of the castle, both dressed down in their riding breeches.

As they were sneaking out, Remus was back up in his room, recovering. That meant Peter looking food outside his room throughout the day while Remus stayed under his bedsheets, trying not to feel sorry for himself. James and Sirius had the morning off, knowing Remus needed to be left alone.

While James went to visit his parents, Sirius headed down to the tavern. Yes he worked for and with his best friends, but the job still took its toll. A week after he'd become Sir Sirius Black... he shuddered at the memory.

So, sat in the darkest corner of the tavern, nursing a tankard, Sirius watched the towns people. Being the son of a Lord his life had never been like the people's in the tavern, drinking until they needed to tend to their fields or start their job for the day. He recognised a couple of servants from the castle and sent them a kind nod (one a few of the girls shied away from)

Sirius knew the affect he had on people, men and women alike. On his days off, if he wasn't still hanging around with the boys, he'd indulge, but it was a rare occurance. And only if someone was so catch his eye.

Like right now, when the two girls in riding breeches came into the tavern. They couldn't have looked more out of place if they tried. But one of them didn't care. She pulled her redhead friend up to the bar and began ordering drinks.

For a while Sirius just watched her. He watched her consume drink after a drink, more surprised than anything. Well, surprised and enthralled. He'd never seen a woman consume so much alcohol without fainting or having to be escorted away by her husband.

But the farmers that should have been tending to their fields smashed their tankards together and sang merry songs with the girls. All of their troubles, whatever they may be, were long forgotten.

At last, Sirius caught her eye. She broke away from two of the farmers, giving them both a kiss on the cheek and sauntered her way over to him.

"See something you like?"

It was a phrase Sirius had heard so many times before, usually from street girls. But this was no street girl. Her skin was unmarked, no bruising around her neck. And she was in riding breeches of all things. And there was no dirt under her fingernails.

"What if I do?" Sirius smirked, leaning forward in his seat.

Two minutes later they were outside, her back against a wall. Her legs were wrapped around his torso as his lips pushed against hers feverishly. His large, strong hands grasped her buttocks, keeping her up.

And, although she was the one against the wall, Sirius knew who was in charge here. It definitely wasn't him.

They did no more than kiss, mind you. Tongues exploring each others mouths, the scent of alcohol lingering on their breaths. Sirius swore just her kiss was intoxicating him. And, if they didn't stop soon, he'd have no chance of going back to work.

No marks, that was why Y/N was being so careful. She could leave scratches on her back all she liked, but he couldn't mark her. So, when the handsome stranger with the long, dark hair started kissing her neck, she regretfully had to push him away.

"Now, let's go cause some trouble," she said and unwrapped her legs from the stranger.

He grinned down at her, following her back into the tavern. "Oh, I like you."

Once back in the tavern Y/N grabbed Lily and coaxed her out of the tavern, apologising profusely for abandoning her. "It's never gonna happen again, I swear," she said and patted Lily's hand. "Me and this handsome stranger are going to steal a carriage, you in?"

Lily was absolutely not in. But she couldn't go back to the castle without Y/N. So, as Y/N and the man that climbed into a carriage that didn't belong to them, Lily headed back inside to ask for company from one of the serving girls she recognised when they first arrived.

Y/N climbed into the drivers seat of the carriage and snapped the reins as Sirius was still climbing on. She wasn't quite ready to admit the alcohol was impeding her judgement and just sent him an apologetic smile as she pulled him up beside her while barely steering.

Yeah, this was a really bad idea.

"Hey!" They heard from behind them. Someone started running after them and Y/N snapped the reins again. The horses sped up and she let out an excited shriek.

But not for long. Their pursuer kept up the chase, even following them downhill. That was when Y/N got the genius idea to cut the horses loose. They went one way while the carriage went the other, speeding downhill with no way of stopping.

That seemed to sober Sirius up a bit. Yeah, this girl was gorgeous, but she was crazy. Pulling her into his chest he leapt from his seat, pulling them both into the cobblestone road with only his body to cushion them.

But Sirius had taken worse blows than that. He scooped her up and pulled her into a nearby alleyway, letting the owner of the carriage run by without detecting them.

"That was-"

"Insane," Sirius finished, shaking his head. "I, uh, sorry. This has been fun, but I have to get back to work."

Y/N shook her head, but she wasn't surprised. This was the way it always seemed to go with handsome strangers. But it didn't matter to her, she was already betrothed to a guy she'd never even met.

Without saying another word she saluted Sirius and off she went, skipping back to the tavern. He watched her go, wondering if maybe there would've been less trouble if he stuck around.

***

Y/N walked into the castle's dining room. She walked with little confidence, with her heels clicking against the floor, a far cry from the girl who had been in the tavern just a few hours before. Guards lined the walls and servant were just around the corner, waiting to bring them food.

The royal family were already seated, showing just how late Y/N was. Embarrassed, she curtsied and took her seat opposite Prince Remus.

He was nothing like she was expecting. Short yet shaggy hair, his skin pale and covered in scars. Oh, and he refused to meet Y/N’s eye. Must’ve been shy, Y/N decided and turned to the King and the Queen as they began to speak.

But that wasn’t what caught her eye. Behind Prince Remus stood two guards. One handsome with round eye glasses, the other handsome with long, dark hair. Her heart leapt into her throat.]

There, stood in the throne room where Y/N was having dinner with her future family, was the man she just had holding her against the tavern wall, her nails scratching down her back. “Holy shit!” She whispered.

But it wasn’t a whisper.

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 30 days

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Part 22

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 21 🟣 Part 23

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, abusive parents, drama, angst, more drama.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Alright so actually I'd completely forgotten that I had this finished, and I found it today, so... enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

Three weeks later you had all but forgotten about Katie’s threats, and you were getting ready to spend a day in with your four favorite guys, gathering snacks, drinks and blankets for a cozy movie-marathon — something you felt you very much deserved because not even August had been able to ward you of all the discomfort of having that IUD put in.

Your plans were disrupted by the doorbell. Sherlock opened the door, and though you couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, you recognized that voice immediately.

“May I inquire what this is about?” Sherlock asked politely, not immediately ready to let the strangers inside.

“We were informed that our daughter is living here, and that we should go see her.” You’d recognize your mother’s distinctive accent anywhere. It cut through all other sounds — and not in a good way… Sherlock turned to look at you, and you nodded as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Darlin’!” your mom pulled you into a hug, and after that your dad did the same, only in a much more possessive way. Your mother looked around the room, at the table full of snacks, the nest on the couch and the four guys in the living room. “Are these friends of yours?”

“These are, eh… my roommates,” you stammered, surprised you had even managed to choke out a single word of that sentence. This was not going to end well.

“You’ve been living with four men?” Your father looked as though his face was about to explode. You could have seen that coming. You should have seen that coming. Just like you could have predicted your mom’s gasping and proverbial pearl-clutching. What were they even doing he—Katie! That bitch.

“Yes, mom,” you said, your voice betraying you. They were never going to approve of this arrangement, never mind the other arrangement you had with the guys. Maybe there was a chance you wouldn’t have to tell them about that.

Of course, they weren’t just going to leave — especially not after such a long drive — so August made everyone coffee while trying to keep you as calm as possible. Mike tried a few times to get closer to you, but you shook your head. Having four guys as roommates was strike one. A boyfriend would be strike two, and possibly also three. Learning that any of them was a vampire would likely give your dad an aneurysm. Not that that would be such a bad thing, but still. You were so completely unprepared to have this conversation…

So you drank your coffee and introduced your partners as friends, tearing off little pieces of your heart with every word, not so much because of the lie you told your parents, but because you couldn’t gather the strength to tell your family about your situation. Yes, it was unconventional, and yes, it was absolutely going to cause some really big problems… but you loved the guys so much. Then why was it so hard to choose their love?

“They’re your family, I promise we all understand,” Marshall let you know, and you thanked the universe for his gift and the fact that it was becoming so well-established outside of feeding situations.

“You’re my family too,” you replied, fighting back tears. “Probably more than they are.”

He promised you that you’d get through this, that life would go back to normal, and that your parents didn’t have to find out about the details of your relationship with the guys, and it all seemed to be headed that way — until something startled your mother and she dropped her empty coffee cup as she reached to put it back on the table. Unthinkingly as ever, Mike snatched it before it could hit the ground — a feat you could have passed off as ‘incredible reflexes’, if not for the fact that he was on the other side of the room from your mother when it happened, and he was back in his chair with the cup in his hands after barely a second.

“Darlin’, come here,” your father said slowly as he got up from his chair. “Now.”

“No, dad, sit down.”

“We have to leave,” he insisted. “That man is a vampire.” He held a hand out to you, and in that moment half of your childhood flashed before your eyes. Countless memories of being pulled along, dragged away from all things deemed dangerous and ungodly… Endless lectures on dangers you now knew never even existed in the first place. The amount of times that hand had struck you for disobedience and being ‘too curious for your own good’ — whatever the hell that meant.

“I’m aware of that,” you answered, your voice surprisingly even.

As per your predictions, your dad’s face looked like he was about to explode. “Y-you’re… aware of that?”

“Honey, you… you knew he was a vampire, and you chose to live with him anyway?” Your mother was pale as a sheet and looked like she was about to faint.

“I didn’t know at first,” you explained quietly, “and when he told me… I was shocked, of course. But… it didn’t change anything. He was still the guy I met… the guy I… fell in love with.” Cat, say goodbye to bag.

You focused your attention on the throbbing vein on your father’s forehead, so you could avoid looking into his eyes for a moment longer.

“Do I understand correctly that you are living with four men, one of whom is a vampire, and you are also seeing that boy? That… monster?” Mommy dearest was three seconds away from smoke coming out of her ears, dad’s face displayed an interesting mix of terror and fury. And you… you were finally fed up with all of this.

“No, mom, you’re mistaken,” you spoke slowly as the rational part of your brain begged you not to do what you were about to do. “I’m living with four men, all vampires…”

“Don’t say it,” Marshall broke into your thoughts, “please. They’ll never forgive you. Think about this.”

He was right, of course, and you should think about this a while longer. Blowing up your relationship with your parents on a whim was probably not a great idea, not to mention that they were only here because Katie was such a bitch. And Marshall was right: they’d never forgive you.

“After everything we’ve given you, everything we’ve done for you… we let you go to college!” Your dad spoke through gritted teeth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “And you thank us by getting involved with these miscreants? You’re coming home, you ungrateful little whore!”

He raised a hand to hit you, but Marshall was faster. Of course he was faster. As soon as your father’s hand connected with Walter’s body, you heard a strange, loud tick — one that reminded you of the electric fences around your old neighbor’s yard. Whatever it was, it made your father retreat.

“Marshall…” You reached for him, only to be pulled back by August.

“Don’t touch him right now,” he warned you quietly. “You’ll get hurt.”

“He attacked me!” your father screamed — presumably mostly at your mother, but who knew…

“Young lady, you are coming home with us,” your mother said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Back to where it’s safe, far away from these abominations.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon.” Your father seemed to have forgotten the mysterious incident with Marshall, who had now reluctantly stepped aside and seemed to have regained his composure. “Do not go against your mother, young lady, or…”

“Or what? You’ll hit me again? I don’t think any of them will let that happen,” you said, gesturing around you at the guys. “And I don’t think I will, either. I’m not going anywhere. I belong here.”

“You belong with your family,” your father snarled.

“I believe I just said that.” Tears escaped your eyes as you said it.

“You’re truly choosing these creatures over your own flesh and blood?” your father inquired angrily.

“Oh they’re more my blood than you can possibly imagine.” And that was the precise moment all remaining bridges went up in flames. Had your mother been wearing pearls, she’d be clutching them, and your dad… The anger in his face disappeared, making room for a completely blank expression that carried more hatred than anything you’d ever seen before.

“You’re feeding them.” Not a question, very much an accusation. And a correct one at that. Your father didn’t need an answer. “We’re done here.”

“Dad…”

“You are no daughter of mine,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I thought we could save you, but this sin will never be forgiven.”

They left quietly, leaving the five of you behind in your own bubble of deafening silence.

It took a while for you to speak. “Mike,” you whispered, “I’m going to get so totally unreasonably mad at you. I’m already sorry, and I won’t mean a word of whatever I’m about to say…”

“That’s okay, Sweetcheeks. Kinda deserve it.”

“I… you…” But whatever words you had planned on throwing at him got caught in your throat, and before you fully realized you were moving, you were on your way to your bedroom, where you dropped down on the bed, no longer able to fight back your tears.

Some time went by and the mattress dipped next to you, and two arms wrapped around you. Mike. Then again, and another pair of arms. Sherlock.

“Can we…”

“Get in here, both of you,” you grumbled. This bed was not big enough for all of you, but fuck that.

Marshall got in behind Mike, August behind Sherlock.

“Hm, this hasn’t happened in forty years,” Marshall mused as he squeezed both you and Mike close.

“What the hell happened in the eighties, damn,” you laughed.

“We could show you,” Mike said as he snuggled closer to you, suggestive eyebrow wiggle included.

“I have no problem with the cuddling, but if this turns into an orgy, I’m gone,” Sherlock warned half-jokingly.

They all laughed. Half-heartedly at first, but soon… the sound of them was genuine and deep and warm, like a blanket and a warm bath, all at the same time.

“Did I fall asleep?” It was getting dark outside, so you must have, right? Sherlock was still holding you, but Mike was gone. Apparently, Marshall had taken his place.

“You did, darling,” Sherlock answered. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird…” As was to be expected after such an intense break up with your parents. “Is it bad that I don’t feel as bad as I think I should feel? Where’s Mike?”

“He had to get out of the house. He feels guilty,” August said calmly.

“I couldn’t have bluffed my way out of this forever,” you sighed. “And I know they’re not going to change. I’m so sorry for everything they said about you.”

“I’d say we’ve heard worse, but… it was up there. For me, at least.” Mike. Standing in the doorway one moment, sitting at the foot of the bed the next. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t caught that cup…”

“Like I said, Mikey… I couldn’t have kept this from them. Even if this had gone over well, Katie would have told them eventually.” You reached for him, and he immediately took that to mean ‘please dive on top of me this instant, preferably face-first into my cleavage’. It did not mean that, but it was fine. More than fine, even. You ran a hand through his messy curls and smiled at your favorite idiot.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” You were fairly sure you’d never completely grow used to sweet August.

“Someone could explain to me what the hell was going on with” — you turned around so you were facing Marshall — “you… And then we can get to our movie night, maybe?” Mike immediately jumped up, mumbling something about snacks, and disappeared.

“Right, that…” Marshall said. “I can tell you, but I can also show you… I promise I won’t hurt you.”

With your curiosity thoroughly piqued, how could you refuse? You put your arm on the covers like he asked, and gasped in surprise when he ran a hand over it. Little… pricks, of some kind, stung your skin as he moved his hand. It felt like…

“Electricity?” you asked. Marshall nodded. “You tased my dad?”

“I suppose you could say that,” he responded calmly — maybe too calmly for someone who was admitting to electrocuting your father. “It’s not that dramatic, love.” Right. Mind reading. “As far as we know, I can manipulate existing electrical currents.”

“Can you turn the lights off?” you blurted out. They flickered for a moment, and he smiled at you. So, yes. He could.

“I don’t know how it works, just that it does,” he shrugged — for as far as possible when one is lying in bed, anyway.

A dirty smirk revealed he knew what you were thinking. “Pondering the possibilities, are we?” he said softly as he ran a hand over your arm again. The feeling raised goosebumps all over your arm. “We’ll continue that experiment at a time when it doesn’t make Sherlock insanely uncomfortable.”

“Sorry, Sherlock,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright, darling,” he replied. “We should join Mike, I think he’s done setting up.”

Marshall carried you to the living room and pulled you into his side as he sat down on the couch, while August put your feet in his lap. Mike, who just came back with a cup of tea for you, whined softly.

“Do you want attention?” you asked with a smile, already knowing what the answer would be. Mike nodded furiously. You gestured at the floor in front of the couch. “Come sit here. You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

You’d asked the guys a million times if they weren’t uncomfortable on the floor, and they’d sworn they weren’t, but you still felt slightly awkward asking Mike to sit there. He hummed softly when you ran your fingers through his hair, and reluctantly reached for the remote.

“Movie?”

#mike hellraiser fic #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction #natural fic #naturalfic

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foggyfanfic · 11 months

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Encanto Headcanons Nobody Asked For

Hello! I am putting off writing my last essay of the semester, so here are some headcanons!

The thing where the kids touch the candle and promise to help Encanto however they can started as Alma's way to reassure nervous villagers that the Madrigals wouldn't misuse their gifts.

When Alma first got her door and saw an old woman on it, she was super confused, but also too tired from the day's events to question it too much. When she eventually looks the same as her picture on the door she has a small mid-life crisis that she reveals to nobody.

Same for each of the triplets.

People do actually break into song in universe, it is a side effect of all the magic in Encanto. The first time it happened was about seven months in and everybody freaked out about it for months.

Alma eventually gets used to the singing thing and never thinks to mention it isn't normal to her kids or grandkids. In fact, most people in Encanto take the singing for granted, so when the mountains open up and they get a few new villagers nobody bothers to warn them that the village will regularly break into song.

I know the creators said the village is completely self sufficient, but like... where's the quarry for all the stone? Where are they making glass, that requires a specific kind of sand, do they have that sand? How are they getting new books? Nah bro, the village has three merchants who journey past the mountains twice a year.

I know the generally accepted headcanon is that Agustin was born outside of the Encanto, but I think his parents were city dwellers visiting family when the village got raided. They escaped with their hosts and planned to take their family back to the city with them, then ended up in a magic paradise instead.

In the same vein, Agustin's dad was a banker and has become the town's unofficial treasurer since that's about the only way he can contribute with his skill set.

Agustin's mother passed in childbirth, his father eventually remarried, but only after a few years of grieving. Agustin has three much younger half siblings.

Bubba comes to Encanto and does indeed get with Isabela, but I mean... some AMAB dude who surrounds himself with the trappings of masculinity and had zero problem seeing through Isabella's hyper feminine facade? Trans woman Bubba. All I'm saying. (Transphobes dni, neither of us will change the other's mind).

The art book had something about Isabela looking more indigenous than her sisters, so we know the family has indigenous roots. I wasn't able to find a lot about queer history in Colombia, but I did see that two native men were murdered by colonizers for being gay out in the open. That kinda implies that homophobia comes from the colonialist side of modern Colombia. I choose to believe that Alma has a great aunt on the native side of her family who is married to a woman. She grew up hearing that they have to keep the marriage secret to protect her aunts, so when she notices Bruno has a boyfriend, she starts planning a secret wedding without mentioning anything to Bruno.

Bruno doesn't realize his mama knows he's not straight, he thinks he's hidden it very well. When Isabela and Bubba nervously come out at dinner and Alma asks Bruno if he has any advice about being queer, Bruno inhales what he's eating and needs the Heimlich.

I agree in general with queer Madrigal headcanons, but I'm also aware that we're dealing with an isolated community a couple decades before the lgbt rights movement really kicked off in Colombia. I suspect most of the characters wouldn't use any of the labels we use today, and in fact, characters like Mirabel wouldn't stop to consider they're not straight until they've already been happily married for two decades.

That said, I think Mirabel is what we consider to be bi with a heavy preference for men. Her husband is quiet and doesn't have a single creative bone in his body, but thinks everything she sews deserves to be put in a museum. They bond because he commissions her to make something for his mother.

Luisa gets a tiny little husband who falls to pieces when she flexes. He does not understand people who say she is too masculine, or call Isabela the pretty one.

Camilo's youngest son is autistic, not that any of them know that's what the kid's deal is. Camilo just thinks his son is hilariously blunt and really into bugs. He doesn't really get how the kid can spend hours looking at an ant hill without getting bored, but whatever, he'll just buy the kid an ant farm for his birthday.

When women marry into the Madrigal family that don't have anybody to walk them down the aisle, they ask Tio Bruno to do it. It started with Camilo's wife, whose father is abusive, and became a tradition as the family grew.

When Mirabel becomes a grandmother the family starts calling her Mirabuela. Similarly, Antonio eventually becomes Tio Nio, to the point that some people forget he has a first name.

I actually have a lot of headcanons about the future of the Madrigal family but this is getting long, so I'm going to stop. I've ended up mentally writing whole ass fics for Camilo's wife and his youngest granddaughter, as well as for Mirabel's daughter, and Dolores' great grandson, so if I get into all of that this thing is going to triple in length.

#Encanto #Queer Madrigals #bruno madrigal #agustin madrigal #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #alma madrigal #luisa madrigal #Bubba madrigal #camilo madrigal #encanto headcanons

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horizon-verizon · 3 days

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Most tg stans claim that: "but Rhaenyra's son are bastards! They have brown hair! That's proof enough to declare them as such!"

I mean... is that how it works? (Im seriously asking)

No. Even today and in real life, you can't always now for sure a person's child is not so-and-so man's child just by looking at them--100% of the time.

The greens of the story (the characters are not TG, TG are their fans and stans) were trying to prove Rhaenyra's sons weren't Laenor's through the fact that both Laenor and Rhaenyra had the typical Targaryen features: white-yellow hair, purples eyes, and pale skin. As opposed to Alicent's children who had Viserys as their dad and all had the typical Targ/Valyrian look.

They were thus essentially trying to prove that none of Rhaenyra's sons were "true Targaryens" or real successors/ineligible to be in the line of succession, since typically heirs are those who are legitimate scions of a man [in this case Viserys] and the preference is to have scions from a "male line". Which means that a person who can draw their descendance from a ruler through their mother or grandmother has less claim than a person who can do so through a father and/or a grandfather. And the medieval idea of fatherhood-trait inheritance (bc again, no access or knowledge of genetics beyond the superficial) was that children inherit the most favorable or impressive of traits from the man, not the woman. So there was also a time when the court at KL (possibly through Alicent's attempt at drawing approval and note towards her kids by trashing on Rhaenyra's for that contrast) kept referring to the idea of how "true" Targaryens hatch their eggs even as early as infanthood. "Cradle bonding". It comes from the legend of Rhaena the Black Bride putting Jaehaerys I & Alysanne's eggs into their cradles, thus jumpstarting that bond. However, this court idea is stupid bc the Targaryens/those related mostly have always bonded more often with dragons when they were much older: Aegon I, Daemon, Rhaena the rider of Dreamfyre Laena, Alysanne, Viserys I, Baelon, Maegor, a few of the Dragonseeds. And every single one of the Velaryon boys' dragons were hatched infanthood & all three bonded with them at their infanthood, whilst two out of four of Alicent's kids Helaena & Aemond had to bond with their dragons at an older age (we don't know where Aegon II or Daeron bonded with their dragons). It really just showed/proved how stupid and pervasive male-first, patriarchal logic is really unnatural.

Also, there are dozens of Targaryens both before and after the Dance generations who didn't have typical Valyrian looks but were undoubtedly children from Targaryen or Valyrian-descent men: Baelor Breakspear, Alysanne, Alyssa (Meleys' rider), Duncan the first prince, Valarr, Rhaenys (Meleys' rider), Duncan the 2nd prince. and we still have Daenerys Stormborn from these people's line. Daenerys, who both through her lineage and her own will becomes the Mother of Dragons and much more than a dragonrider.

Finally, the greens were obviously unsuccessful in their attempts at proving them not-Laenor's with Alicent having to do all that she did to have Rhaenyra usurped.

#asoiaf asks to me #westerosi bastards #the velaryon boys #cradle bond

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starlightingsss · 9 months

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sparks fly (prologue!!)

you're on your own kid. 1

this is a haymitch x reader fic BUT this part is only the prologue / backstory of what happened to ur character (reader)!! you have a little sister named liriel, you're only depicted as 13 right now but you'll meet haymitch at 16, knowing him vaguely up until you are 18, where you get reaped for the games.

triggers in this chapter : weird old men harrassing an underaged girl (you), the girl giving into it for money, excessive alcohol / drug use, creepy old men in the hob

once upon a time, on a rainy day in a dirty, poor, coal filled district, the echos of laughter rang through the verh small, but very warm little house. echoes of laughter from a happy family, poor but happy. 2 toddlers, their mother, their father. better off than other families in their district, the tragedy that struck wasn't expected. her father had gone off to work, her mother heading out to forage for food - a pretty good way to cut down costs.

still young, she was unclear of what happened, even today the story is foggy. she remembered her dad coming back with a few peacemakers on his trail, how he sobbed as he held the two girls, telling them their mother had gone off to a better place. as they were about to ask questions, a loud boom rang through the two roomed shack as peacemakers filed in. shots fired, hitting her father straight in the head as she held her younger sister. the girls sobbed as she saw the body fall onto the floor, the peacemakers sparing their lives and turning back.

that was the day, the day her life changed, at just 13, y/n was forced to become a provider, the head of the household.

with tears in her eyes, she put her sister to sleep, promising everything would be ok. those tears continued to stream as she dragged her fathers bpdy out of the house, closer to the meadow, where she spent the latest hours in the night digging a grave. cold, and soaked to the bone, the young girl returned to her house, trying to answer the impossible question in her mind ... "how do we survive?"

too young to work, too kind to hunt the animals in the forest, the girl had only the money in her fathers pockets to survive off of.

as she pondered this, she realized she wasn't very much of anything, but she was beautiful. insanely beautiful, incomparably so. she seemed to glow brighter than the stars themselves, her hair a stunning shade of (black / brown / blonde), her (porcelain / olive / ebony) skin reflected the light beautifully, and her eyes, the crown jewel of her face. her eyes were the most luxurious shade of (brown/blue/green). her soft, captivating eyes stunned and entrapped almost everyone who looked at her. her features worked well together, leaving her looking ethereal. a beauty only compareable to that of the moon.

the girl spent her time in the meadow, just on the edge of the district but not far enough to be punished. she picked berries from bushes lining the faulty electric fence, she plucked dandelions from their roots, sometimes she was lucky and found wild potatoes or other root vegetables. her resourcefulness and smarts led her not needing to take out any tesserae in the future, efficiently cutting down the chances of her name being called.

as she walked back to the little shack she and her sister lived in, she felt content with what she had foraged that day. two handfuls of dandelions, three wild potatoes, a few spring onions and about a handful of strawberries. this was enough to keep her and her sister fed for at least a few days, they were both still younger and smaller and not as needing food as an adult. as she entered the shack, her little sisters sobs echoed out of the bedroom.

"liriel?" she said, entering the single bedroom in the shack. liriel was curled up, sobbing and delirious. the older girl wrapped her arms around her sister, "its ok, it'll be ok.", she pressed a kiss to the girls forehead, "i got some berries and stuff if you're hungry."

the younger girl shook her head no as she continued crying, her face resting on the older girls chest. she was at a loss of what to do, deciding just to hug her little sister, providing much needed comfort.

and that, that wad the older girl's last straw. the little bits of food they were forced to ration, almost nothing left. she avoided the hob - her dad told her to, he owned a stand there but he warned her of the men there and what they did to younger women like her.

she thought about it before realizing if she wanted to survive, she would at least have to trade / sell a little bit of stuff.

the next day quickly came, her anxiety peaked as she made the journey into the hob. she wasn't wearing anything out of the normal, just a small dress fitted to her form. but apparently, that wasn't really normal and she learned that as she entered the only bar in town, full of drunk men. the jobs over there were unregulated, no one really had any morals, and the owner would give her a good pay just for her to wait on the men.

as she walked into the bar, she stood out like a sore thumb. prim and proper, innocent and beautiful, blissfully unaware of why the pay was above average.

however, she quickly learned as the men caught sight of her, heads turning as words slurred out at her, "hey beautiful, come sit on my lap"s, "you woudl look nice with my cock in you"s, "you look like a whore"s, "dont tease me like that"s, and soom she had the whole bars attention on her, and hands reached out. rough hands grabbing at her wrists, her thighs, her waist, some even reaching out to touch her more intimate parts, as she rushed along to the front, trying to get away from them. the barmaid quickly ran over to her, yelling at the men and pulling her to the back.

"now tell me, little lady, whats a girl like you doing her dressed like that ?" she scolded, making sure the girl was ok.

she stuttered her response, "i-i was gonna ask to get a job .. as a waitress or something?". her hopeful eyes meeting the woman dark ones, awaiting a reply.

"those men are gonna eat you alive, hon. you sure you want a job?" the other woman inquired, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"yes please.. i really need the money." she pleaded this, with desperation leaking into her words.

soon after this, she had a job. in the middle of the hob, surrounded by men who just wanted to pig out on alcohol and food and the "pretty new thing that started working there". no one seemed to care that she was just 13, and she kept this job. for years, she kept this job. holding the men's attention and keeping their interest, she earned a lot of tips, making more than enough for her and her sister to live comfortably.

(sorry ab the timeskip but likeee!!)

this quickly changed, as a greedy man dragged her into the alley. his hands roaming her as she screamed for help, pleading for anyone to hear and stop. and someone did hear.

he heard her screams and stumbled closer to them, the cries for help ringing through his ears, as he neared the alleyway. he saw the woman pinned to a wall by a man as she thrashed against his arms and body, and she screamed. he sped up towards the pair, "what the hell is going on?" his gruff voice rang out.

the man assaulting her quickly turned his head, eyes landing on the man who just called out. fear lit the mans eyes as he saw haymitch abernathy, victor of the 50th hunger games, only victor in district 12 had apparently come to confront him about his assault on the woman. a quick excuse slipped out of his mouth, "hey man .. no need to start anything , s-she wanted this . shes not y-your girl is she?"

haymitch didn't look very strong, or very intimidating at that, but most people harbored a fear of him, a man who they saw kill over a dozen people in his games. fear of the man they thought was a killer.

"well im not sure she wanted it considering she was screaming so loud i heard her from the market but lets ask the lady herself, shall we? sweetheart, did you want this man to do whatever he was doing to you?" he said, he was drunk, not as drunk as the man who had her against the wall, but still drunk. he stumbled a little and slurred his words slightly.

the woman shook her head no, as haymitch neared the two. the man who had his hands around her dropped her to the ground, stumbling away from the girl as she fell to the floor. haymitch was now towering over her curled up body, as he leaned down, picking her up and placing her back onto her feet.

after giving the distressed woman some time to steady herself, he dropped his hands from her waist, where he had been supporting her.

"t-thank you.." she stuttered out, obviously shaken from the event just before.

"don't mention it, sweetheart. you ok? aside from all of that .. did he hit you or anything?" haymitch said, concerned for the girl.

"n-no, he was js grabbing" she said, fear of what the guy could've done had haymitch not intervened still rattling her core. she let out a "i-im gonna go home now .." as she stumbled away.

"ehhh, not sure about that one, hon. you're pretty shaken up." he said this, following her. "just let me walk you home, ok? just wanna make sure you're ok." it made sense, knowing the traumatic even that just happened to her, letting her wander home wasn't a very good idea.

"o-ok" she said this, as she continued to stumble, this time just not by herself.

the walk was mostly silent as they were both necessarily strangers to each other, haymitch had just wanted to ensure the girl's safety, and thankfully, her shack was pretty close to the hob. after she thanked him, and sent him off to continue his errands, she collapsed onto her and her sisters shared bed. the younger girl was at school, and her body was tired and stressed.

her thoughts raced with what could've happened had the former victor not interfered, if she hadn't screamed. she realized her job wasn't safe for her, but she was still unsure what she could do. only men could work in the mines, she didnt have a business or the money to start one, she had a few hundred dollars to her name. as her thoughts wandered, she decided to do something that would take her mind off the matter - she would prepare a "thank you!" basket for the man who saved her.

she looked through the pantry, finding the ingredients for her to make fresh bread. as she made the dough and set it aside to rise overnight, she looked for some jam to add to the basket. she knew she had something and eventually found some strawberry jam! she went out and picked some prettier flowers, added a jar of the jam, and included a small piece of goats milk cheese from her little sister's goat.

her sister came home, seeing the basket on the table, with her curiosity peaked, "y/n? whats this on the table? whos it for?"

"liri, your back! its just a basket for someone who was kind to me, just returning the favor." she said this, not wanting to burden her sister, just to finish the basket and deliver it the next day.

she went to sleep that night excited to send over the basket, and she woke at the crack of dawn to put the bread in the oven. once the bread was done, she wrapped it up in paper and rested it into the basket. her sister went off the school again, and she made the lengthy walk over to the victors village.

as she rang the doorbell, her excitement was hard to contain. excitement that was not matched by the grumpy man who opened the door, with bags under his eyes and a very disgruntled look on his face, she realized she had probably just woken him up.

"hi! i made this basket to thank you for helping me .. i'm so sorry to bother! i didn't mean to wake you" she chirped, apologetic but her excitement and happiness still leaking into her voice.

he flashed a smile at her as he took the basket from her hands, seeing the bread, jam, cheese and flowers that she had prepared. the contents of the basket all costing quite a bit. "you made all this stuff?" he said this, still groggy and not very awake.

"yep! baked the bread this morning, the jam was a little older from some strawberries i foraged and the cheese is from my sisters goats milk!" she said this, with a smile still on her face.

the man muttered something along the lines of "guess i dont mind if i a pretty girl wakes me up after all" as he turned back into his house to place the basket somewhere on a table, calling out a "come in if you want" to her.

the woman cautiously stepped into the house, getting hit in the face with the stench of old alcohol and sweat. the house was a mess, huge and cluttered up with bottles and dishes - how the man functioned wasnt even something plausible in her mind. as she reached the room he was in, she saw him pouring himself a drink.

"isn't it a little early to be drinking?" she said this, concern etched onto her face as she observed the man. 8 in the morning on a thursday and he already had a glass of white liquor poured in front of him.

"not sure what you'd expect after waking me up at 8 in the morning, sweetheart." he replied, sitting down and sipping his drink. she stood out against the messy background of his house, her hair and clothes seemingly perfect. her skin still glowy in the dark atmosphere of the room.

"ehh.. could i maybe .. clean your house for you?" she said this, as she saw a spide crawl across the wall above the sink. knowing this wasn't a place anyone should be living in, she just wanted to help the man.

haymitch looked around as he sipped his drink, "t's fine, dont worry about it, you got anything else you wanna do or judt the basket?" he said looking up.

"i- it was just the basket , ill get going" she said this as she turned around and left, some of the smell lingering on her body. she wanted to help him - she really did but she wasn't going to force her help onto him.

HELP IK THIS STORY IS A LITTLE PROBLEMATIC / QUESTIONABLE RN BUT I SWEAR NTH ROMANTIC IS HAPPENING BETWEEN THEM

DHISDHSKHDS THEY FALL IN LOVE AFTER HER GAMES N STUFF BUT BEFORE THEM HE JS THOUGHT SHE WWS SOME RANDOM PRETTY GIRL 😭

he'll still be hesitant after her games n wtvs tho pls 😭 theres still a gap between like them doing anything and stuff

bte her birthday is right after the reaping (a few days after) and she gets reaped at 18 so she turned 19 before all the interview n everything then she survives based in dumb luck n stuff

idk how to tag but someone asked me to tag so this is like a little confusing for me

idk how to use tumblr

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thepalmofyourfreezinghand · 1 year

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I just went out of swiftie twitter and I didn't realise how truly fucked up Taylor's image is on the ground. For background I am a finance girlie and there was an overlap of interests. I couldn't believe that grown ass people think her family has been 1% for generations,she is what she is because of her insanely rich father,she will write a song about it,has a good team while other celebrities/sports stars don't or that hot shot vps didn't fall like flies in the crypto ponzi scam,she keeps on dating guys and dumping them so she could make garbage music for teenage girls,she can't be both a creative force and business person,she is financially shrewd who can predict the next big thing and can sell it etc. What's worse is this discourse was talked about in my meeting today. Middle aged men and women actually think this about her and at one point I stopped correcting them because it would out me as a swiftie at work. Well now some also think she is 40 now. Do you think she could have handled her public image better because normal people still have this image about her because every artist writes about their and Taylor just got out of a 7 year relationship before that a 1.5 years. She has not been single for 10 years almost and last five albums have not been about exes strictly or even singles.

I’m sorry you had to listen to that! Also I love the term “finance girlie”, I’m not in finance but it makes me wanna be one! Haha.

To your point… could she have done some things better? Maybe. But the public is always gonna be ruthless to young girls, and I think she handled it very well. If she hadn’t “dated around”, they would’ve found another reason to hate on her, just like they keep finding reasons to hate on young singers and actresses.

I know people criticized her for that Ginny & Georgia tweet (and the fans who subsequently harassed the young POC actress were 100% in the wrong, obviously), but imagine this: you get ridiculed for your love life CONSTANTLY from 2010 to 2016 (and the jokes and the headlines were absolutely merciless), then finally you are in a long term relationship and you’re at the peak of your career and you’ve just become the first woman ever to win AOTY three times and you’re breaking records left and right and receiving accolades from everyone… and yet one of the most successful shows on Netflix is still making a misogynistic (and out of date) joke about you.

If I were her I’d be exhausted, and sometimes you can keep your mouth shut for years (which is what she did), but at some point you just break.

So yeah, maybe she could’ve handled some things better. But she was ridiculed and criticized and laughed at and mocked and underestimated and put on a pedestal just to kick her down time and time again for years… some people might still have a wrong notion of who she is, but all in all I think she handled her rise to fame quite well, given that she could’ve given up in dozens of different occasions because of how hard they were trying to drive her out.

#taylor swift

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twojackals · 10 months

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It all comes down to this

I feel devastated about the loss of Titan. A passion for exploration is such a primal feeling that I myself experience but cannot execute into reality, so I enjoy living vicariously through others who take the risks I know I could never do.

The loss is hard.

I also strongly believe you cannot boil this situation down to "a bunch of billionaires on a boat". It certainly may be part of the story, but it isn't the complete tale. These people had the hearts of explorers, and even if I don't respect the hoarding of resources like money, I respect their character. Each of these men, even the "Pakistani businessman" (as though this person had nothing else), had things that made them interesting, and things that made them human.

Hamish Harding circumnavigated the globe in 46 hours, and joined Buzz Aldrin at the South Pole, because heck why not. Paul-Henri Nargeolet was already a deep-water explorer with Naval credits, and Stockton Rush, for all we may criticize about this entire situation, was a visionary if nothing else. Suleman Dawood was only 19, and my gods what I wouldn't give to go on that kind of adventure in my early adulthood, and his father, Shahzada Dawood, was a curious father of 2 who was on the board of SETI -- he had a passion to know about the things we couldn't see on a daily basis, and he has a foundation that supports education access in Pakistan.

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[Time for an edited interlude! I am taking a time-machine back from the fUtUrE to bring you this necessary clarification, apparently]

The term "Visionary" refers to a person who has ideas about what the future could look like, be those micro or macro, and in many cases those people aim to make the future become what they see. You might not like Stockton Rush, but he definitely had a vision of underwater tourism like none other, and yes, he was willing to risk safety to do it. Stockton Rush literally told people he felt the underwater industry was being held back by safety regulations, and this does not fall on deaf ears for me. He took that sub down I think three other times, but with the way it was built by the sounds of things, it was only a matter of time before disaster struck. And he also made money off it -- probably too much, though the whole 'making money' bit is kind of the gig many people are going for these days.

That's the shitty society we live in.

Nevertheless, he had grand ideas about what underwater tourism could look like, and he definitely attempted to make it come to fruition. He had creativity, and perhaps an unfortunate penchant for slighting safety regulations. He built OceanGate and put Titan in the water, for better and definitely for worse.

Just because mistakes were made though, does not take away the creative nature of the situation for me. I suppose it's a curse though, being able to very much assess information in two distinct categories, without needing to mush them all together like peas and potatoes. (By the way, I never let my food touch -- gross.)

Back to the point, though:

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

Right now, I don't see a single one of these people as a "rich guy on a boat" today. Maybe tomorrow will be different, or the day or week after... but for now?

Today, these men are explorers, their curiosity drove them to the most dangerous reaches on earth, just to take a look. I salute their heart, and grieve for their loss. May their journey to the next world be light.

May their kas be justified.

#titan #titanic #exploration #adventure #news #death

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gatekeeper-watchman · 11 months

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Daily Devotionals for June 15, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 18:22KJV): 22 Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favor of the LORD. Proverbs 18:22(Amp): 22 He who finds a (true) wife finds a good thing and obtains favor of the Lord.

Thought for the Day

To be worthy of a good wife, one must be a good man. If one is seeking the Lord with all his heart and desires to have a mate with whom he may serve the Lord together, God will guide him to the right person. Today, many people are marrying with the wrong motives. Christians ought to have three criteria in considering a mate. They should make sure that the person is: (1) committed to Christ (2) demonstrates good character, and (3) shares the same vision for serving God.

The most important decision we make is whether to follow Jesus. The second is whether to marry. If you desire to be married, then you need not be anxious or lonely if you commit to follow Christ daily. God will direct your path and prepare you for marriage. When men or women are single it is a wonderful time for them to prepare for marriage. As they seek to know God better and allow Him to help them become the kind of husband or wife who would bless someone, they will soon find they are not lonely.

Satan will try to mislead us regarding this second-most important decision. One of the easiest ways for him to deceive us is by playing on our emotions. We can all be susceptible to developing "feelings" for the wrong person. We can guard against this by committing ourselves to God and His will for every part of our lives, including marriage. God knows what is best for us and there are worse things than being alone. One of these is being married to the wrong person. We can be out of God's will by compromising and marrying someone who does not feel the same way we do toward the Lord. We find Satan misleading God's men throughout the Bible. Solomon's heathen wives led him into idolatry; Samson's eyes were put out because of the woman Delilah; and David was murdered because of his passion for Bathsheba.

Though emotion and passion are a wonderful part of love, they cannot be the foundation for a good marriage. Good character and commitment to God strengthen a marriage, while selfishness, jealousy, laziness, and so forth, affect it adversely. A good woman's worth is far above rubies! If you want to marry, seek God diligently so that you may find a good wife or husband – and ask God to prepare you to be a good mate.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you for our mates. I am most blessed, Lord. I pray that those seeking a good mate will be guided by Your Holy Spirit and find just the right person with whom they will share their lives. Lord, I also pray for those who are already married and ask that You strengthen the good marriages and heal those marriages that have suffered wounds and hurts. May each mate seek more of Your love and be willing to lay down their lives for each other. Let us all be filled with more of Your love daily. May love pour from me today no matter what I face. I ask this in the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen. From: Steven P. Miller @ParkermillerQ, Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Thursday, June 15, 2023, Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA, https://www.facebook.com/StevenParkerMillerQ Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956, Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ, https://twitter.com/StevenPMiller6 Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gatekeeperwatchman, https://www.tumblr.com/gatekeeper-watchman, https://www.pinterest.com/GatekeeperWatchman1/ #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981

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chelseafcwmemes · 2 years

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Something just happened at the Euros 2017. And since then it’s been growing fast.

Article from Børsen Weekend.

At the same time as Pernille Harder has walked from the grass pitches in Ikast to the absolute world top in Chelsea, something has happened with women's football: the money has grown, the spectators have increased, and next Friday the national team will run into the Park for the first time. Meet Danish women's biggest football star.

If you close your eyes while Pernille Harder speaks, it feels, for a brief moment, as if London is disappearing. From the fashionable Kingston upon Thames in the south-western part of the British capital, you pull across the North Sea and all the way to Tulstrup near Ikast. To the grass pitches, to when Harder, as a five-year-old, stood in the middle of the Jutland heath for the first time with a football at his feet; on the boys' team, because at that time there was no team for girls in the local football club Tulstrup / Faurholt IK. Almost 25 years and three stays abroad in Sweden, Germany and England later, Pernille Harder sits in the kitchen-dining room in a Victorian terraced house with yellow bricks and an electric car from Hyundai in the driveway. Out in the backyard, her Swedish girlfriend Magdalena Eriksson, a football player and teammate, is mowing the lawn. The rented house in the neighborhood, where a single-family house costs seven figures in British pounds, has been their home since the summer of 2020, when Chelsea FC bought Harder free of its contract in Wolfsburg, Germany for 2.5 million. Danish kroner - enough to make her the world's most expensive female football player ever. In general, a lot has happened since Pernille Harder first crossed the chalk lines on the outskirts of Ikast, both with women's football and with the 29-year-old football star herself, but the Central Jutland dialect still hangs undiluted. That's just the way it is

Boys' hair and big dreams

That Pernille Harder is Danish women's football's indisputably biggest star can be ascertained by taking a simple look at her CV. She made her sensational debut with a hat trick for the Danish national team as a mere 16-year-old, got a contract abroad when she was 19, led Denmark to the European Championship final in 2017 and was named Europe's best female footballer by the European Football Association Uefa in both 2018 and 2020. Even Pernille Harder says: "I just focus on getting better every day. I want to win titles, but I do not have to win anything before I stop, and the most important thing for me is the joy of playing football." Humility, however, should not be confused with lack of ambition. Ever since she was little, Pernille Harder has wanted to be a professional football player, but when she turned on the TV at home in the living room of the childhood home, she only saw men on screen. And then she had to become a boy, she of course stopped and ordered her mother to cut her short hair. Only later did it dawn on Pernille Harder that there was also a national team for women, and then the lures were allowed to grow out again. Today, she has achieved most of what she set out to do. And what she may not want to say out loud herself, at least not so directly, agent Klaus Granlund can formulate for her: "We still have one big goal, and that is to win the Champions League."

Bitten by sports

Granlund himself lives in Ikast and is an acquaintance of Harder's parents, the town is not bigger either, and he can tell about a family who is bitten by sports. With a father who was a postman and even played football - and handball at a high level - in Ikast. And a mother who was a pharmacist and the first female handball player from the city of Central Jutland to be selected for the Danish Handball Association's Jutland talent team. Despite this, Pernille Harder is not one of those sports children who has been paced, she says, but her parents have driven across Jutland and back again for their daughter, just as many times a week it required to help her practice the sport she was passionate about. "My mother was my coach from the time I was 8 until I was 13, while my father was always on the sidelines and sometimes he was also a referee for the local football club. They have always supported me and I remember there was a summer where I got some running exercises to take home from the youth national team. My father took me out and ran with me during the summer holidays to help me get it done. "From Tulstrup / Faurholt, the car trip first went a few hundred meters south to Ikast, then to Viborg and in 2009 on to Skovbakken in Aarhus, who at the time was playing at the top of the best Danish row, meanwhile Pernille Harder went to Ikast Brande Gymnasium, and on top of the four weekly trainings with her Aarhus teammates she was arranged that she could train in the morning before school with FC Midtjylland's best U17 team for boys at the club's academy in Ikast. The goal was already then to see how much she could push herself to become a better football player. "I was very nervous before the first training sessions, because they were some of Denmark's best U17 boys I had to play with," says Pernille Harder. "But there was no discrimination, I was treated well and the coaches made exactly the same demands on me as they did on all the other players. I was not the best, but it meant a lot to me to show that I could keep up, and I was very inspired by how focused the boys were at such a young age. This meant that I also started to set big goals for myself. "Greater diversity In 2012, Pernille Harder Skovbakken replaced Linköpings FC in the best Swedish series, where the level was higher then than in Denmark, and the top teams often came far in the international competition. On her new team, the one year younger Swedish defender Magdalena Eriksson also played, and after a year in the club, she and Pernille Harder fell in love. Since then, the two have formed a couple and made a choice to be open about their relationship. and their sexuality, in the hope that they can help fight one of football's old ghosts - homophobia. The football pair became really publicly known during the World Cup in France in 2019. The Danish national team had not managed to qualify, but Pernille Harder had turned up anyway to support her boyfriend when Sweden met Canada in the round of 16. In the stands, she was wearing a Swedish national team jersey, and when the couple shared a kiss after the match, it was captured by a photographer. The picture went viral, and in a few days, Pernille Harder gained several thousand new followers on Instagram, a platform that she today actively uses to work for greater diversity in football. "It occurred to both of us that that image ended up going around the world. It was probably there that I realized that Magda and I have a platform together where we can make a difference. There are many who write to us. "that we are role models for them by being so open about our relationship and that it has helped them to be more open about their sexuality."

Is women's football ahead of men's football at that point?

"I definitely think so. In women's football, you can be yourself without having to worry about getting death threats or being hung out. Unfortunately, there are many examples that you can not in men's football, where it is still very taboo to be gay. I think that diversity is something that women's football can offer that men's football does not have - both in terms of players and fans.

Injury treatment on Google

One can draw an almost parallel curve between Pernille Harder's career and the buoyancy of women's football. Danish star may have been born at a lucky time and has ridden on a wave of more money, more spectators, better training facilities, full-time professional players and now also TV income that is palpable, but today Pernille Harder can also rightly say that she is one of those who herself helps to drive the sport forward and lift the bar further. As a junior, if she got an injury, Pernille Harder had to google her way up to what she was failing, and in the gym, she had to make sure to organize her workouts herself. Meanwhile, she could look enviously at the men who had professional physiotherapists, club doctors and, in general, far better conditions for making football a way of life. Today, Pernille Harder trains at Chelsea's millionaire Cobham Training Center outside London with four physiotherapists attached to the women's team, and although there is still a long way to go for men, not least in terms of pay, she has been part of a development that she says , that far more female football players today dare to take the plunge and aim to become full-time professionals. “I’ve seen two different generations in my time as a football player,” she says. "When I was younger, I could feel that many of the older players did not have the great faith that they could become full-time professionals, because at that time there were only very few who succeeded in reaching that far. "that along the way they prioritized other things such as education. But the young players who come up on the national team today have only one priority, and that is to become professionals and get a contract abroad." With Harder on the jersey It can be difficult to pinpoint exactly when women's football really started to accelerate globally, but here at home there is one before and one after the European Championships in 2017. At the final round in Holland, the Danish national team wrote history and won silver medals. the women one TV record after another. The final, which Denmark ended up losing 4-2 to the host nation, was attended by 1.5 million. viewers - the most watched football match on Danish television throughout 2017. And subsequently, Pernille Harder could also feel that something had changed. "Something just happened at the European Championships in 2017. And since then it has gone really fast. Now all the matches are shown on TV, the production of the matches has improved with many more cameras in the stadium, and there have been more sponsors, greater media interest, but also greater respect.

Do you think that women's football has received too little recognition?

"Yes. When I played in Denmark ten years ago, I do not even think that the results in the Women's League were announced on the radio. It was also one of the reasons why I left Denmark to play abroad, because I think it was the meganeder not to get more recognition for something I spent so much time on compared to the men. I had a hard time understanding that. "Now you are the world's most expensive football player and captain of the national team. Do you also feel a responsibility on behalf of women's football?" I do not feel obligated to anything. But I have personally experienced how bad the conditions have been and how little focus there has been. It has given me the motivation to want to change it, both for myself but also for all the new players that are coming up. First and foremost, it has been about performing on the field, so I could achieve a certain status. But today I have a position and a platform that I can use to push women's football even further forward, and that is a driving force for me. When I was a kid, I could only buy jerseys with the names of the male footballers on my back, but today there are girls who run around with my name and stick with Chelsea because I play in the club.

An eye opener

In a week Pernille Harder's name also on the backs of red-and-white football fans, when the Danish women's national team for the first time ever has Parken as home - in a friendly match against Brazil - as part of the warm-up for this summer's European Championship finals in England. Viborg and been denied access to the national stadium, where the men have been able to report sold out for all the team's matches on top of last summer's European Championship euphoria, but perhaps the women's national team should just have the chance, because at the time of writing more than 16,000 tickets have been sold in advance; four times as many as usually come to the matches in Viborg. And Pernille Harder is in no doubt that Danish women's football is once again facing a milestone: "It will be a huge experience for me g personally and for the other players, but I also think it will be an eye opener for a lot of people, in relation to how far we have come with women's football in Denmark. The park has only a very special status. It's the stadium that everyone automatically thinks of when they think of the national team's home ground - now for both men and women.

#shoutout to magdasabs for the google lens idea #chelsea fcw #chelsea women #pernille harder #denwnt

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naoyaslut · 1 year

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Serpentine

synopsis: Murder, betrayal, drugs, assassinations, and the men of Bonten. Possibly the only witness to your father's assassination, you unintentionally tumble into the deep dark world of the Roppongi underground. Your older brother is in way too deep, you may be the only one who can save him. But does he deserve it?

pairings: ran haitani x femreader, sanzu haruchiyo x femreader, mikey sano x femreader, OC x femreader, naoto tachibana x femreader, hanma shuji x femreader

warnings: graphic description of murder, blood mention, minor character death

wordcount: 7.5k

a/n: another multi-chap, murderous, drama-filled series. with a lil bit of smut on the side.

It was now 11:45. Glancing at the hieroglyphic-like characters on the dainty silver Rolex wrapped around your wrist, you let out a frustrated sigh. Every Wednesday for the past year, you met your father at this exact restaurant for an 11 o’clock lunch.

There were times here and there he was a few minutes late, but for the most part, he was punctual every single time. If there was some kind of delay, he’d shoot you a text message, or even his assistant would… but there was nothing. No missed calls, no unread text messages, just radio silence on your father’s end.

You didn’t want to seem like a pain but even after calling his office phone and his personal cellular device, there was still no answer. This was odd, extremely odd.

Another sigh before you shuffled out of the private regular booth, your grey Chanel clutch wedged underneath your armpit, while you went back to fiddling with your iPhone on your way out of the dining room of the restaurant.

“Ms. Y/N, is everything alright?”

You whirled around quickly to meet the gaze of the restaurant's owner, Mr. Higasa – you didn’t know his first name you weren’t on a first-name basis.

You smiled faintly, listening to the ringing on the other side of your cell phone. You tried to contact your father once more, but he still wasn’t answering. You made a mental note to stop by his office on your way back to the art gallery.

Hanging up the phone, you signaled to Mr. Higasa that you were on your way out of the establishment, looks like your plans fell through.

“Ah, it looks like my father ended up a little busy today we won’t be having our usual lunch today I’m sorry for not mentioning earlier,”

Mr. Hagasa’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he nodded in response before escorting you to the front door.

“Of course, please tell your father we missed him today and will see him next week,”

Another friendly smile and a handshake from Mr. Higasa before you were on your way outside skipping lightly across the asphalt in the Christian Louboutin wedge sandals your father had bought you as a college graduation gift.

You’d worn them a total of three times due to the bright blue/seafoam/navy colors, there weren’t too many dresses in your wardrobe that you could pull these off with. But today, you looked like a breath of fresh air. Dressed in a satin sundress, with a sash tied snugly around your narrow waist.

You looked the part of a well-known socialite when in reality you were merely a gallery assistant. You loved the arts, the old, the new, painting, and even digital art that has become extremely popular as of late.

One of your good friends from college owned a gallery and you were afforded the opportunity to work with her over the last year to learn the ropes and get your feet within all that was artistry. It was a dream come true.

Your father was a well-known investment banker in Tokyo. Extremely well known. In his time in Tokyo, he had managed to make a name for himself and he was sitting on a small fortune. He was set for the rest of his life in terms of money and so would his children, and so would your children, and even possibly your children’s children.

You didn’t know all the details of what he did, but you do know that he afforded you and your brother every single opportunity available as you were growing up. There was absolutely no reason that either of you wouldn’t be successful in your adult lives.

Be that as it may, your older brother by nearly ten years still had managed to earn your father’s ire. Rather than take advantage of the abundance of opportunities afforded to him, he still decided to be led astray. He worked for some shady people even now and your father ordered you to stay away from him and whatever he had gotten himself into this time.

The drive over to your father’s office building was uneventful, once and once you parked you made your way inside the building. It was oddly… vacant for a Wednesday afternoon. The front desk was even void of the normal clerk who you’d seen so often upon entering and leaving the premises.

Your eyes went back to the phone log displayed on your phone, you’d called your father a total of four times with no new voicemails or any response from him at all. Perhaps he really was busy.

The elevator doors slowly pried themselves open and you prepared to step into the sleek silver elevator car, but you weren’t expecting someone to exit abruptly and subsequently barrel into you.

Your phone flew out of your hand tumbling across the sleek tile below before a large hand swooped in quickly to pick it up. Thankfully before the screen shattered.

You watched in suspense as a much taller man exited from the elevator, eyes the color of a dusty wisteria meeting yours before extending your phone back in your direction. He had to two be at least two and a half heads taller than you were.

“I’m sorry about that sweetheart, I didn’t think anyone else was in the building,” his voice was smooth, a playful lilt to it as he pushed your phone back into the palm of your hand.

You’d never seen him before, nor the pink-haired gentleman who had exited after he did. They both wore differently colored tailored suits, the most outlandish colors you had ever seen. One was purple and the other bright verdant green. They had to be custom-made. There was no store in Tokyo where you could walk in and purchase suits of this caliber right off the racks.

After briefly eyeing their suits, your eyes went back to the one who had retrieved your phone his much larger hand enveloping your own in a firm handshake. His hands were extremely warm to the touch, a bit clammy, and left a faint trail of condensation on the screen of your phone.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing, you look like you belong on a beach somewhere,” he chuckled lightly, stepping aside so his friend could step out into the lobby. You assumed he was commenting on the bright colors you were wearing, but the comment alone made your stomach lurch, performing an unnecessary backflip.

Aside from pink hair and wide bright blue eyes, his friend had a white flu mask with an innocuous spray of auburn across the filter on the front. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed it may have been an accidental spray of coffee from an offending coworker.

But he on the other hand, the man in the purple suit, with the dense purple and black hair, seemed adamant about holding your gaze probing your face searching for any kind of change in your demeanor.

It was unnerving, you felt your face heat in embarrassment at his sudden proximity and the almost overbearing leer in his eyes. Finally wrapping your fingers around your phone, you apologized nervously, those deep unsettling eyes of his boring curiously into your own.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going, sorry about that,” you apologized timidly, taking a fraction of a step away from him.

You heard him laugh again light and humorless under his breath, preparing to rev up some sort of conversation when his friend mumbled something under his breath.

“Let’s go,” he didn’t wait, he waltzed towards the exit of the building, with a little more than a little pep in his step leaving his purple-haired friend behind without so much as a second glance. “No time to flirt,”

Those dim eyes of his never left yours as the pink-haired man exited the building and he himself didn’t utter another word. Instead, he offered you a wide grin before stepping around you to follow the man who had accompanied him only moments ago.

You watched them leave in silence, slightly taken aback when the last one out turned to send you a sly wink over his shoulder. Swallowing the sudden tightness that had begun to form in your throat, you turned away to step into the elevator.

The ride upstairs was agonizingly slow. The building must have been completely vacated because you heard no chatter, no printers, not even the light padding of loafers throughout the halls. You were baffled.

Once the elevator came to a complete stop on the top floor, where your father’s office was. You tried his cell phone once more while you made your way to the end of the hall down to the center office.

Even the corporate floor was empty, so strange. The only thing that you were able to pick up in the distance was the faint ringing of your father’s cell phone behind his office door which was slightly left ajar.

You pouted in annoyance once you passed his assistant’s empty desk pushing the office door open so you could step inside.

“Dad, why didn’t you call m-“

Upon entering the oversized office, you stumbled backward, cell phone once again slipping out of your hands before clattering to the ground. A loud, blood-curdling scream left your mouth before your lungs ceased up almost instantaneously after.

The oversized office reeked, thick with the scent of drying blood accompanied by something spoiled underneath. Your father was there. He was slouched in his leather office chair behind his desk, throat slit jaggedly from ear to ear with a wall of thick curdling blood staining the front of his suit.

After the initial shock and fear wore off you were certain you were going to spew your guts out on the floor right then and there but managed to drop to the floor to retrieve your phone before dialing 911.

#tokyo rev fanfiction #multichap fic #dramabloodviolence #ran haitani x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x femreader

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jackiestarsister · 11 months

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Reactions while re-watching Willow: the 1988 movie

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

~ The opening scenes and montage are intense, mythical, and beautiful, but having the title card and credits appear over them kind of takes away from the effect.

~ It’s nice to see a protagonist who has a wholesome, stable family life. Unlike many protagonists in stories made today, Willow doesn’t have any past trauma or tragedy to make him more complex. His life is simple, but rich in love. He has both needs (protecting his family, raising his crops) and wants (becoming a real sorcerer).

~ Willow encounters so many wise older people who help him on his journey—the High Aldwin, Cherlindria, and Fin Raziel—that it’s hard to pick out a single one that’s a real mentor to him. He learns most of his magic from Raziel over the course of the movie, but it’s implied that he became the High Aldwin’s apprentice afterward.

~ I’d like to know exactly how the brownies stole Elora from Madmartigan. That could have been really comedic, and also would have revealed more about his character. Did he try to protect her, or was he glad to be rid of the responsibility? It seems a little odd that he couldn’t hold on to her the first time, and yet Willow enlists his help after running into him again.

~ Similar to The Last Jedi leaving out one of the three lessons Luke promised, they cut a scene of Willow using one of the three magic acorns given to him at the start of his quest. I can see why those scenes were cut in the interest of time, but both movies might have felt more complete with that number three, which is so common in fairy tales.

~ In the same vein, Sorsha’s arc would have made more sense if they had kept the subplot about her father. His presence also might have helped to explain some of the political dynamics between Nockmaar, Tir Asleen, and Galladoorn.

~ The timeline of the last night and day of the story are kind of choppy and confusing in terms of motivation. Why wait for the night to pass before attacking, when Elora could have been killed at any moment?

~ Jean Marsh and Patricia Hayes are fantastic as old, half-crazed sorceresses.

~ I find it very interesting that the climax is centered around three women, a baby, and a diminutive man with no physical or magical powers. All the physically powerful men are fighting each other outside, and the “best swordsman” only bursts in when the danger has passed.

~ Willow using a trick rather than real power is reminiscent of many fairy tale heroes who use trickery or half-truths to win the day.

#Willow #1988 Willow #Willow 1988 #Ron Howard #Warwick Davis #fantasy film #fantasy movie

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smallraindrops-blog · 1 year

Note

If it’s alright, can I request TSC Y/n and Reader saying “I love you” for the first time? Or them telling Achilles and Patroclus of their relationship? Tysm and have a good day!

WMFTD!Y/N X TSC!reader

Word count: 3.1

Warnings: Angst, slight nsfwish, no beta

Notes: thank you so much for waiting. I ended up rewriting this three/four times but this was the one that ended up sticking. I hope you enjoy it! The prompt was fun.

(Winter, year Five)

“I think we should tell them.” You said in the quiet dimness of the tent, with only an oil lamp for light and that was quickly fading. Without waiting for a reply, you sat up in bed, earning a disapproving grunt from Y/N. He reached for you, planning on pressing you back down.

“Yeah. We definitely need to tell them.” You decided firmly, batting his hand away. With a loud yawn, he sat up as he scratched his bare chest. The blanket pooled in his lap, the only thing that gave him any modesty.

Idly, you studied him. The dim light softened him, but it wasn’t enough to conceal the thick muscles of his body, the broad lines of his shoulders and torso. The mix of new pink scars and faded white ones only added to the picture.

Utterly masculine yet beautiful at the same time, a study in hardness and softness.

“I think they already know. We are sharing a tent again.” He pointed out, his voice still rough from sleep. He frowned at you, looking oddly adorable with how confused he was. “Where is this coming from?”

You shrugged, picking at a loose string. “I don’t like this feeling of us sneaking around.”

Before you became lovers with Y/N, you had shared everything with Patroclus. It was no secret that being a student then healer under Patroclus’ careful teachings had literally changed the whole course of your life.

And you didn’t like that you were hiding this from someone who had become the closest thing you had to a father.

When Y/N opened his mouth, you pointed at him. “Don’t say you don’t feel the same, I know you do.”

Y/n huffed, and flopped back down. There was a pause and it took considerable effort to not stare at the outline of his bulky thighs. His knuckles brushed against the curve of your spine, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

“Alright. We will tell my parents tonight, and they will laugh at us and tell you they already knew.” He said, amusement lightened the weight of the words. You laughed as you changed position, laying across his chest, your chin on top of your hands.

“Maybe we will surprise them.” You countered easily, sighing as his warm hand stroked up and down your back. You acted like you didn’t notice the blanket got pushed down.

“Wanna bet?” He smirked at your narrowed eyes. Not able to ignore the challenge, you poked him in the chest.

“You’re going to lose.” You warned him. He scoffed, then shoved you onto your back like you weigh nothing. In a single fluid movement, he moved on top of you, using his weight to hold you down.

“Such bold words for a loser.” He said then he kissed you firmly, claiming your mouth and interrupting your response. You resisted for a moment before melting against him with a quiet moan.

The smell of smoked meat filled the air along with sounds of talking and laughter. Twilight softened the harshness of the golden sunset into gentle shades of lavender and pinks. A cool breeze swept across the land, bringing the salty scent of the ocean.

You lingered by the medical tent, with feet that had turned into stones. All day along between patients, you had mentally rehearsed what you were to say and a counter for any disagreement you could imagine.

“Hey genius, are you overthinking again?” Y/n said quietly from behind, causing your body to jolt in surprise. You turned to him with a scowl that softened when you got a good look at him.

He had washed up, but exhaustion was clear in his eyes, today’s battle had not gone as it should have. Three of his men would be honored tomorrow morning, their souls sent to the underworld.

It made your heart ache, not just the dead but for Y/N as well. Without uttering a single world, you knew he was blaming himself. Your hand rested on his arm, frowning up at him.

His lips quirked up in a smile, his expression fond. “Definitely overthinking again.”

“We can hold off. We can tell them tomorrow or another day.” You murmured, wishing for privacy. You wanted to hold him close, to offer some comfort.

He shook his head, covering your hand with his just for a few moments. “No, I think some good news will lift their spirits.”

You bit your bottom lip but then nodded hesitantly. “If you say so.”

He ducked his head, his voice low. “Worried about losing that bet?”

“Hardly.” You replied in a whisper, painfully aware of how close he was. You could feel the heat coming off him. You held his stare, not backing down. Then he huffed, pulling back but some of the weight seemed to vanish from his shoulders.

“Come on, the longer we wait, the worse your anxiety is gonna get.”

You and him bickered on the way to join Achilles and Patroclus. You knew he was doing it to distract from your nervousness and you were thankful for it.

It was Patroclus who saw you first, lifting a hand in a quiet greeting as he called Achilles over. His father patted your back carefully before he pulled Y/N a rough one arm hug, ruffling his son’s hair.

“Took your sweet time coming to dinner, lad.” Achilles scolded as he and Y/N rough house, their loud voices filling in the space around the bonfire. You wanted to laugh but a knot had formed in your throat. Something Patroclus noticed immediately.

“Are you alright?” Patroclus frowned, his dark eyes on your face. You saw the hard glint in his eyes, a warning not to lie. You cleared your throat, cheeks becoming flushed.

“I- I. Well, I need- no.” You fumbled, waving a hand. Patroclus’ brow furrowed as you tried to speak.

Then you felt a warm, rough and very familiar hand enveloped yours. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his expression calm but though years of knowing him, you saw the nervous twist of his mouth.

“Father, Pa. We have news we want to share.” He said with a nod toward you. You tried to ignore the surprise staring from his parents. There was a grin forming from Achilles while Patroclus’ face remained carefully blank.

“We are together.” You said finally, deciding to keep it simple.

There was a long, long pause from both parents. The fire crackled loudly in the stillness.

It was Achilles who spoke. “How long?”

“About a couple months ago- after the big fight.” You managed to say, sharing a glance with Y/N. He nodded again, his eyes darting between his parents.

Another pause.

Then Achilles guffawed, his blue eyes bright in mirth. He elbowed Patroclus, seemingly unaware of the dark glare he was from getting your teacher.

“See? I told you so.” Achilles said, “This means I win the betting pool.”

Patroclus scoffed, “Oh please, they were courting before that. Do you know how much flirting I had to listen to? Years, Achilles.Years.”

Your face burned as the conversation went on, Y/n manfully staring in the distance, his own cheeks ruddy. “You knew?”

Patroclus’ face softened, a smile growing on his face. “Of course we did.”

Achilles wrapped an arm around Patroclus’ shoulders, “We can’t tell you how glad we are. You suit each other well. You are a good influence on our son.”

“Oh.” You said quietly, pleased.

A second later, “Wait, what do you mean by betting pool?”

(Spring, Year six)

Thick plumps of black smoke floated up into the air, the fumes of the funeral pyres sickly sweet. You stood far away from the smoke, hidden from sight, quietly watching as each body was placed, saying a quiet prayer for each one.

Some fell in battles, others in uncomfortable cots, crying out for loved ones. For some of these warriors, your prayer would be the only one to follow them into the River Styx.

There was no peace in this mortal realm so you hoped that they would find it in the afterlife. Surely Hades and his Queen would let them rest.

You didn’t hear his footsteps, even in heavy armor, Y/n moved like a ghost. However, you felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. He came to stand beside you, his armor marked by drying blood, his handsome face grim.

Somehow, he always found you, as if he had a hidden link to your location at all times. You didn’t look at him.

“You don’t need to be here.” His deep voice was low, gentle even. A sharp contrast from the bloody warrior he appeared to be- no, that he was. You finally met his piercing eyes, feeling like he saw right through you.

It used to make you stumble over your words, face flushed as you tried to hide from that stare but now, you stood calm and sure even as your innermost self was exposed. Although, you still got that small, pleased flutter in your stomach that he ignored. One that you shoved down ruthlessly.

“I know.” You told him, eyes sweating over his form. He stood strong and proud, a true Greek Hero. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, “Come and tend to me.”

You lifted an eyebrow at his order, very much not moving. “Don’t you have a war bride that can do that for you now?”

It was petty and you knew it. It did little to smooth the ache in your chest.

He grimaced at the reminder, he hadn't planned on it but Pa had pushed for it when he had the mother and daughter pair on the wooden block. It had been to spare them from some of the inappropriate lustful stares that the other men gave not just the grown women, but to the very tidy, very scared girl.

He shifted on his feet, his mouth tightened. “I did not want one. It was to spare them.”

“Yet you have one.” You replied, jealousy tightened in your stomach. You didn’t realized how ugly the feeling could be. “I just wish you told me first.”

You had come to see the woman and daughter sitting in the tent you shared with Y/N, his expression guilty as he saw you. There had been no warning, nothing to soften the blow.

You have not spent the night in his bed since. You had taken up sleeping in the medical tent, claiming to be too busy. You even barely spoke to Patroclus, not listening to him when he tried to explain.

It was foolish but you were hurt. You were glad they were safe but listening to other people tease y/n about it had hurt you deeply.

“I will not touch her. Ever.” Y/N hissed, eyes dark. You were surprised to see the hurt in them. “I do not want her, I want only you.”

With a sigh, you crossed your arms. “The others have said-“

“I don’t care. They are worthless and their stupid words mean nothing.” He reached for you, cupping your chin. You tried to pull away, very aware other people were around but his grip was stronger than you realized. And that you weren’t really pulling away.

“Let me go.” You ordered shakily. All the hurt you had been nursing had formed a deep, gaping wound inside your soul. He had been the cause but his touch, his words had smoothed some of the pain even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“Return to me.” He whispered, caressing your cheek gently with his thumb. “Please.”

You parted your mouth to tell him ‘no’ once more but the soft plea made you close your eyes. Pride told you to push him away, let him hurt as much as you did. But it wasn't what you wanted.

“You don’t wish for her? Or for a child?” You asked in a quiet, trembling voice. You hated how weak you sounded, “Because I heard you had her in our bed-“

“Lies. You have heard lies. I told her I will not touch her or her daughter. I also told her to tell the others we had laid together, so she will be protected.” He was whispering, speaking quickly. “I am an idiot and should had told you first.”

Unable to bear it, you closed your eyes. Maybe you should have known better, that Y/N wouldn’t be unfaithful but glory along the pride of bloodlines made even the wisest men fools. You wouldn’t be the first man to find a woman in their lover’s bed. But this was Y/N.

You took a breath, “Come, let's return to the tent.”

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a trembling exhale like he had just won a battle like he wasn’t sure he would. You stepped away, guilt and lingering hurt swirling inside your chest.

The tent was empty when you stepped in, not even a single candle nor oil lamp lit. The sunlight will linger just for a few mere minutes, the golden light giving into the starry night. You didn’t look back as you moved around the tent, casting soft light with just a single oil lamp lit.

“I thought.” He paused, his voice hoarse. But you didn’t look up, from the oil lamp, studying how the flame danced and flickered. Oddly enough, it brought you back to the first night when you and him finally gave in. The hurt was deeper this time but you couldn’t say if it wasn’t just as foolish.

It was ridiculous how easy it was to hurt each other.

“You thought what?” You said quietly, facing him.

The light didn’t seem to reach him, his expression brooding and watchful. It made him appeared secretive, powerful. For a moment, you imagined him as a lesser god, one that mortals could call upon in times of need yet untouchable all just as all gods were.

The helmet was tucked under his bulky arm, the gold dull and marked by old blood. The sight of this quiet man and his pained expression made you want to go over and smooth it away like you have done countless times before.

He spoke. “I thought you know that I would never do anything like that. I trusted you completely, why don’t you return it?”

You flinched like he had backhanded you, eyes going wide before dropping your gaze to stare at the ground. You crossed your arms, and shrugged, any possible words forming knots in your throat.

There was a moment of utter quiet, not even the sounds of people returning or gathering around for food broke the silence inside the tent. You held your breath, readying yourself for battle with Y/N.

“Very well.” Y/n whispered, like a dying breath. Then without another work, began working on taking his armor off. He ignored your shock glance, placing his helmet on the table.

His quiet acceptance, when he and you should be tearing other apart for the hurt caused, made a burning rage tear though you. Not the fire of Hades would burn as hot.

“That's it? That's all you have to say?” You snapped, then you started pacing, tugging at your hair. “I thought you slept with someone else, and- and then you asked me why I don’t trust you?”

“So you admit it.” He said, watching you with that careful neutral expression that gave none of his thoughts away, his eyes blank. You wanted to smack him.

“No, I admit nothing, you did ask me.” You said pointly, walking toward him. You begin helping him, ignoring his scoff. A thick, uncomfortable silence filled the tent. Eventually his armor was stripped, but the silence lingered between, growing and growing.

Unable to take it anymore, you bumped your forehead against his shoulder. He froze for a single moment, then his arms wrapped around you. Greedily, you hugged him back, soaking the warmth of his body. Everything felt right like this like the whole world could fall apart and you would be okay as long as he was holding you.

“I’m glad you returned safely.” You told him, needing him to know that for some reason. One of his hands cupped the back of your head, his voice a low rumble. “I’m glad too.”

Tired of the hurt, tired of everything, you spoke. “I should have stayed and listened to you, not the others. Because I do trust you even if you pointed a blade to my neck-I should have-“

“And I should have told you right away.” He murmured, stroking your hair. “I didn’t have a clue what to do with them, they were terrified of me.”

“Terrified? Of you?” You teased with a breathy laugh. He chuckled along, his hand still moving in easy stokes over your head. Quiet settled upon your shoulders once more but this one let you breathe.

Then.

in a soft voice that you almost didn’t hear, “I love you.”

You didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The words filled in the finite space, sinking into your skin, into the rhythm of your beating heart, down to your soul. This man, this boy that you had known for years, had said the unspoken truth.

Tears sting your eyes and you didn’t bother to hide them. Your hands curled into fists against his back.

“Say it again.” You ordered with a trembling voice.

“I love you.” He said casually. Like it was the honest truth. He pressed a kiss against your hair, tightened his arm around your waist. “I think I have loved you since we were boys.”

“I love you too.” The words came from the very depth of your being, like you were a soothsayer speaking the last words of an untold epic. You cupped his face, memorized the line of his jaw, his beautiful eyes, the way his skin felt under your touch. His strength and his gentleness, your moral warrior.

“I love you.” You repeated breathlessly.

His face broke in relief. He leaned down as you stood on your toes, meeting him in a kiss. His mouth was a warm pressure, coaxing you to him. You whimpered at the intimate touch, wanting more and more of it.

You gasped against his lips, “I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

He shushed you, brushing his mouth against yours. “I am the one who is sorry. I love you too.”

Later, curled against him as you and him laid in the dark, his warm, broad hand trailing lines down your back. It took you a few moments to realize that he was tracing invisible words against your spine.

You kept your eyes close, your hand over his steady heartbeat, trying to follow along with his touch. Your breath hitched when you finally understood.

Philatos. Most beloved.

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troybeecham · 1 year

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Today begins the Triduum, the three days leading up to the Sunday of the Resurrection. The Triduum begins with Maundy Thursday.

The Gospel reading and a reflection:

John 13:1-17, 31b-35 (NRSV)

“Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.” After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Today’s and yesterday’s readings do an odd thing: yesterdays reading was taken right out of the middle of today’s. It can make it feel like two separate events, when in fact it was only one. Taking the story of the betrayal of Judas out as a single event does make a certain narrative sense, making it stand out as the heinous act it was. But it loses something, too, of the impact because it is easy to forget that he left just before Jesus washes his disciples feet, as he does in today’s reading.

The scene is very intimate. It is also filled with irony. Only Jesus and Judas know what will happen next: the arrest and trial of Jesus. The eleven are still basking in the hazy reverie of men thinking that they are soon to become powerful figures in the coming kingdom. And they are, just not in the manner they imagine. They will begin to become great in the kingdom over the following decades as they themselves learn to carry their own crosses as missionaries of the Gospel, heralds of the coming of the Kinfdom of God, witnesses of the Resurrection of Jesus, with each of them dying as a martyr, just as Jesus died.

Though they still do not understand the importance of it, Jesus is preparing his followers for his death by equipping them with the one tool, the one attitude, the one spiritual path that will enable them to endure what is to come: a spirit of loving humility, of emptying oneself for the sake of others. It took the Resurrection and the coming of the Holy Spirit before any of them began to understand. The same is true for us, as well.

In that culture, servants usually washed the feet of guests before a meal; but here, it is Jesus, the Son of God, who does so and he does it “during supper”. Peter is scandalized by it. How could the man about to lead an armed revolt and be declared king act like a servant or slave!?! Peter remonstrates him.

Imagine that, telling the Lord of creation that he’s doing it all wrong! How often do we do that, my friends, telling God who he must be rather than listening for God to tell us who we are? Jesus answers: only if I wash your feet can you “share” with me in the Kingdom. Still thinking in earthly terms, Peter wants more than a little bit of the kingdom! “If washing my feet means I get a little, wash my whole body because I want it all!” Back in Matthew 20:21-23, Jesus asked if his disciples could drink from his cup in much the same manner, and they pridefully boast “Yes!” because they think of earthly power and glory. And they will all of them eventually drink from his cup, the cup he himself asks his Father to remove.

With Jesus, we must always answer “Yet not my will, but yours be done.” Jesus attempts again to explain. As he, “Lord and Teacher” has been a servant to them, so each one of the disciples is to be a servant to every one; they are to follow his “example”. God is glorified by the revelation of His own nature in Jesus of the meaning of love: emptying oneself for the sake of another, a loving form of servanthood and humility.

Jesus is now on the path to the cross. He gives them “a new commandment” (from which is derived the word Maundy – short for commandment): Jesus is his follower’s example of how to love. This mutual love will show who truly are his disciples. May his love so dwell in us that others might see Jesus.

It is in this context this that Jesus institutes the Holy Eucharist, the Most Blessed Sacrament of his Body and Blood, and his Holy Priesthood. Jesus, our Servant Savior, gives us his all, his everything, his flesh and blood, even as he washes our feet. Without the Spirit of Jesus, all that we do as Christians is hollow. Filled with his love, all the we do in his name he prospers.

Almighty Father, whose dear Son, on the night before he suffered, instituted the Sacrament of his Body and Blood: Mercifully grant that we may receive it thankfully in remembrance of Jesus Christ our Lord, who in these holy mysteries gives us a pledge of eternal life; and who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever.

Amen.

#father troy beecham #christianity #jesus #saints #god #salvation #peace #faith #early church #new testament #second temple jewish theology #holy trinity #holy week #triduum

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basiccortez · 2 years

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I come here because I know you can keep an open mind just as many of your followers. Today's event is concerning in so many ways, I'm what you call pro-life, and all honesty it saddens me everytime I hear about the shootings and try to take as much action as I can, it's not fair that innocent children have to pay for grown ups mistakes and the stupid ideas of letting anyone and everyone have a gun at home, to have access so easily. But it also saddens me how women desire to have the right to kill their own babies, you know that it's a life so independent of you, it's a life from the moment it's conceived, you've been trying to have a baby of your own, you know and understand what I'm talking about, and so, just as those innocents kids that are killed because of shootings, that have no voice in the whole guns matter, the babies in the womb have no voice and no choice in the abortion matter. To talk about pregnancy as a disease that can be cured with abortion is so heart breaking. It's not a matter of health and safety, is it? We should stop being selfish and start asking government for the right things. I know we're all scared for the future, guns, the lack of good job opportunities, war, every single thing that has been going on is worrying and that's what we should be making a riot for. And also, I think men have a word in all of this, for example, without your husband's help you wouldn't be able to conceive, he will be a father one day, the father of your babies, tell me he won't have a word when it comes to raising your babies or during the whole pregnancy. It takes two to make a baby, even if their bodies won't be the babies home for 9 months, it's still theirs. All I'm asking for is to keep an open mind and really think about what the real problem is.

TRIGGER WARNING: miscarriage, medical abortion.

I had a missed miscarriage at 8 weeks and didn't know until 2 weeks after. I had to have a medical abortion because I was at risk from becoming septic due to the dead tissue in my body. There was no desire there to "kill a baby". The desire was to have a baby, to hear his/her heartbeat, to be able to feel them move, to name them. My husband held my hand, never leaving my side and letting me know he was never going to leave me.

Flash forward about a year or so, September of 2021, I find out I am pregnant again. I miscarried at 15 weeks while at my husband's family Christmas. We sat in the bathroom, crying and holding each other. We lost a little girl: Hope Ora Cortez. I once again had to have a medical abortion because my body was running risk of becoming septic. There was no desire to kill a baby, not when she had a name and room in our house. A room that is still there. A room that I still sit in and cry.

My husband has made it very clear from the start: my body. my choice. He has been there every step of the way, through the good and the bad and will continue to be there for me and advocate for women as well. He talked to his female soldiers today, letting them know if they need help with anything or a safe place to go, or resources that he will gladly help them out in way shape or form cause that is what a real man does. He stands up for others rights.

My husband knows he has no control over my body. BECAUSE IT'S MY BODY. He is not with me because he sees me as some baby factory that is supposed to carry on the next generation of Cortez crotch goblins. He is with me because he loves me. Because he cherishes me. Because he sees me as his equal. I am not below him, or above him, I am his equal. We both pull our weight. We both have our opinions on what we do with our own bodies.

Pregnancy is beautiful, pregnancy is not always wanted, pregnancy can be destructive. My mother told me a story about how a woman in her 30s came into the hospital bleeding out, and her husband was confused and terrified. She had a botched abortion, and felt as though she couldn't tell her husband. That woman left behind three beautiful children. Her husband forgave her and wished that she would've just told them and he could've supported her and helped her.

My grandmother lived in a world where when she wanted to have an abortion she had to sit in front a panel of 6 cis white men, whom she didn't know and plead her case as to why she should have an abortion. Think about that? She was 16, had been raped, and was sitting in front of these white men asking for a basic right to healthcare.

no one has a right to say what I do with my fucking uterus.

#g's asks #my asks #abortion rights

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