#I spent like 5 hours on tumblr to cope with emotions

[catragemiau]

I wish fictional men celestial beings would stop ruining their lives. And mine.

[tismrot]

HOW FATAL IS YOUR GOOD OMENS BRAINROT ? a checklist

Give yourself a point for everything that applies to you.

LEVEL 1 [ ] I have seen both seasons.

[ ] I can name at least one character that isn’t Aziraphale or Crowley.

[ ] I know that Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman wrote the book. Points: [ ] of 3

---

LEVEL 2 [ ] I have seen both seasons more than once.

[ ] I know I can write “Aziraphale” without spelling it wrong. Bonus point if you have actually written the name anywhere, for any reason.

[ ] I have had a conversation about Good Omens with a person outside of the internet in the last 3 months. Points: [ ] of 3 + [ ] bonus points --- LEVEL 3 [ ] I experienced any negative feeling beyond "ouch, that sucks for them!" after the ending of season 2.

[ ] I have looked up anything related to Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Michael Sheen or David Tennant in the last 3 months.

[ ] I know what #payyourwriters refers to.

[ ] I have had at least one (1) thought about Crowley or Aziraphale (or both). Bonus point if you told anyone (Tumblr counts).

[ ] I read the book before the show came out. Points: [ ] of 5 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 4 [ ] I have seen both seasons more than three times and some scenes more than that.

[ ] Somebody watched Good Omens because of me. One extra point for each additional person!

[ ] I catch myself thinking about Good Omens when I should be thinking about other things.

[ ] I have listened to Queen more than I usually do during the last 3 months.

[ ] I have read or listened to the book (don’t have to have read/heard all of it for 1 point) after season 1. Points: [ ] of 5 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 5 [ ] I have analyzed the lyrics of most of the songs and experienced moving emotions.

[ ] I have either made a new account or revived an unused account somewhere ONLY to browse Good Omens related media. One bonus point for each additional new/renewed account. (Renewed = you haven't touched it in at least 2 years)

[ ] I have watched at least 5 videos on YouTube about Good Omens.

[ ] I no longer blush while reading fics.

[ ] I have a stash of saved images on my phone/IG account/Pinterest/other I would very much not like anyone to see.

[ ] I have made any game character look like characters from the show. Three bonus points if you googled 'south downs cottages' while playing The Sims. Points: [ ] of 6 + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 6 [ ] I have genuine, tangible heartbreak due to Good Omens, and I have experienced heartbreak before - so I know what it feels like. (Friend/platonic/aro heartbreaks count, ofc.)

[ ] I have shared my support for the strikers multiple times.

[ ] I know more than I’d like to know about the anatomy of male snakes.

[ ] I have published Good Omens related media - fics, artwork, big metas (spent more than three hours researching/writing it), music, videos. Bonus point if this happened on a recently created or renewed account.

[ ] I have had dreams about something Good Omens-related. If this was a spicy dream, collect 3 extra points.

[ ] Things that shouldn’t remind me of the show, reminds me of the show. (Flies, clocks, ducks, classical music, drinking coffee, anything related to England, biblical references, etc.)

[ ] I have a set of beliefs and theories that I stick to - example: coffee theory, body swap theory, Crowley is Raphael, etc. Bonus point if any of these are genuinely from your own head.

[ ] I have a favorite Crowley (Bildaddy?).

[ ] I have listened to other people’s Good Omens themed playlists/music on YouTube or Spotify. Points: [ ] of 9 points + [ ] bonus points ---

LEVEL 7 [ ] I have experienced a spike in learning/skill after watching the show. (Read Shakespeare, history, philosophy, books mentioned, shown or referenced l, learned or improved a craft and any other neuron connection boosting activity).

[ ] I have experienced an increase in my preferred destructive coping mechanism after watching the show, but I’d rather have it this way than not having watched it.

[ ] I have been sad that I am not an immortal, celestial being fighting for the opportunity to finally be with my soulmate and lover, another immortal, celestial being forced to work for a rival oppressive government, after 6000 years of queer yearning and forbidden desire. I have been sad that I - due to human life expectancy, at the very least - can NOT experience such love. Ever.

[ ] Good Omens has affected my sexuality (kinks, roleplay, thoughts, type of desired partner, etc.)

[ ] I know what the archangel Michael’s ring looks like, and what it’s modeled after.

[ ] I have made my own playlist with music reminding me of Good Omens.

[ ] I have had trouble sleeping because I thought about my fic narrative (even if I haven’t started writing it yet), unfinished drawing, video idea or similar.

[ ] I can, with worrying accuracy, correctly guess the episode when watching a scene from the show.

[ ] I read an insane amount of layered theories and possible references and so on, into every word said by Aziraphale and Crowley, to the point where watching is difficult because I get so many fan theories in my head I have to write down.

[ ] I want to travel to London. Bonus point if you already have been to London pre-brainrot and hated it. If you live in London, you get a point if Good Omens made you visit Soho even though you know it wasn’t filmed there. If you live in Soho, you get a point if you've been to the South Downs because of Good Omens.

[ ] I have thought of or prepared a Good Omens costume for Halloween. Bonus point if you have already found a reason to wear it. Bonus point if you wear it casually. Bonus point if the costume is inconspicuous enough that you can go to work/school without it being too weird. Bonus point if, when wearing your costume, you sat on a bench on purpose. Points: [ ] of 11 + [ ] bonus points --- INSANE LEVEL [ ] I have been a fan of the book since 1990. [ ] I read queerness into the book independently (be honest). [ ] I have made money creating Good Omens-anything. [ ] I have met and/or talked to Neil Gaiman/Terry Pratchett(RIP)/the actors outside of social media (mail and cons count, Tumblr does not) specifically about the book or later, the show. [ ] I have hosted a Good Omens themed event (wedding, birthday party, con, baby shower, etc). One point for each event.

[ ] The amount of text I’ve written (fics, metas, song lyrics, poems, whatever) is equal to or greater than the amount of text in the book. Points: [ ] of 6 + [ ] bonus points --- GOD'S FAVORITE-LEVEL [ ] Michael Sheen retweeted you or referenced something of yours in any way. This one is worth 25 lazerii, which is more than all the other points combined. You only need this one checked to have 100% fatal Good Omens brainrot. --- Total points: [ ] of 48 + [ ] bonus points = [ ] points SCORE 1 - 3 points: Why did you take this test? Go do something better with your life, you don't belong here. Enjoy your freedom, the lightness in your heart and the fresh breeze upon your unbothered, youthful face. 3 - 6 points: I bet you still know how to feel happiness. It's still time, you can turn this around. I suggest you just leave this now, and come back whenever you see an ad for season 3. Let yourself be happy in the meantime. 6 - 16 points: You've ventured into dangerous territory, but none of your loved ones have realized you have a problem yet. And you might not... The lines are blurred here. You can still come off as an adjusted person when you talk about the show or anything related to it. 16 - 23 points: A scan of your brain reveals that almost 20% of your prefrontal cortex has rotted away. Friends and family have a negative kneejerk reaction to any mention of Good Omens related subjects. You spend most of your free time on your phone, browsing Good Omens media. The only possible cure at this point, would be a new hyperfixation. 23 - 36 points: 33 % of your total brain volume has been affected. The rot has infected almost every area, and trying to introduce any unrelated hyperfixation causes anxiety, confusion and depression. Doctors are baffled to discover that there is a fungi growing from the rot - it seems to connect with your brain, allowing for an extreme learning curve should you hyperfixate on any subject in any way related to Good Omens. If you ever wanted to read up on Shakespeare, this would be the time to do that. 36 - 48 points: 89% of your brain is affected by rot and mostly replaced by fungi - the only uninfected areas are the reptilian brain (the words 'reptilian brain' reminded you of Crowley) and the medulla, which means it hasn't affected your breathing and your instinctive reactions. You still flinch when cars almost hit you, as you wander aimlessly roadside - lost in thoughts about Good Omens. 48 - ?? points: I'm here if you need to talk. No therapist will understand this without labeling it as a severe breach with reality. (I mean, excuse me - the show is right there on Amazon Prime, it’s real.) The medical field is far behind, years and years will go by before they recognize your diagnosis; 100% fatal Good Omens brainrot. It controls your breathing, your heart rate - everything. This condition is fatal because it lasts until you die, and then you'll have a Good Omens themed funeral. 25 lazerii: How does it feel to be loved by God?

[rhymey-workshop]

Feel free to skip. TW: I'm joining the military.

Growing up is really hard, and I don't think we realize that until we're on the verge of a big change, standing on the border between two parts of your life, balancing on a precipice before you take the swan dive known to many as change.

I'm packing my things. My dad finally brought home boxes and storage tubs and I'm finally packing my things, and that makes the passage of time so much more real.

I'm packing my things. My mom opened the door to tell me to watch my sleeping brother, and said nothing about the fact my room is a mess, or that I was just staring blankly at the cardboard box I just taped the bottom of. That box is ready for my craft books and paint stuff, my origami paper, my reading stand, my books on how to make stuff like children's books and animation. She made no mention of it all, just made that same pinched expression she has for weeks and then schooled her expression into something more neutral as she nodded towards the bedroom where my brother is and after a moment I got up and stumbled in, sitting at the foot of the bed to type out some kind of vent on Tumblr.

I'm packing my things, and I'm stuck between wanting to cry and finding myself unable to cry. I'm leaving home. I've been dreaming of getting out of here off and on since I was 13. At times I had a countdown of years, months, weeks, days that I had to stay, that I had to wait for the day I could finally leave. It made being angry or sad or any other complicated emotion easier. It made hardship easier to cope with. It made it easier to get through the hard times because I knew I could leave and nothing could stop me.

I'm packing my things, slowly, piece by piece, and I'm starting to understand the weight of what my dad said, when he said I was the first person on either side of my family in generations to not run away from home before turning 18. My mom left home at 17, my dad spent more days out of the house than in it as a teenager and left the god damn country. My bio paternal family has these issues too. My maternal family is full of people that ran off, that stayed away from home and didn't look back. My mom only speaks to one sister, and can't speak to her brother as long as their mother is alive. I didn't leave. I finished high school, I got my diploma, I took my time and I didn't leave before I was a legal adult.

I'm packing my things to leave home, and it's hard. It's scary. I've never been away from home for very long, and here I am, getting ready to do something more than just "Move out".

I'm packing my things, putting my life into boxes, sorting what's going to stay, waiting for me to return, what's getting tossed, what's going to get donated or given away. I keep finding things and remembering shit related to them. I keep finding things and remembering who gave them to me. I keep finding things and remembering which parent smiled when I got it.

I'm packing my things, and in a way I'm also processing a kind of grief I didn't know existed.

I'm leaving home for something I thought through for 8 months, and I'm coming up on the one year anniversary since I made my decision. It's been just under two since I signed the dotted line, swore in, and came home to congratulations and a sureness that I'm doing the right thing for me.

In 5 days, I'm going to my last meeting. Getting a send off from a group of people doing the same thing. A couple of them doing the EXACT same thing.

In 9 days, I'll spend the last full 24 hours I've got with my family, eating a fruit tart and playing putt putt. I'll say good night and that'll be the last time I see them for months at the very least.

In 10 days, I'm hiding my key on the porch and walking out the front door while everyone is asleep. They'll wake up and I'll be hundreds of miles away from them. In 10 days, I'm hopping in a big unmarked government van (and this will never not be funny to me) with like 5 other people and we're all doing the same thing. We're going somewhere and we have no idea what is really waiting for us.

In 11 days, I'm not in civilian limbo anymore. As it stands I am subject to the UCMJ but I'm not a sailor yet. In 11 days, I'm a recruit, and that's fucking dizzying to think about.

I'm getting ready to start a new part of my life and it's going to be exciting and new and I'll make friends and I'll go a couple places and I'll have stories to tell my brother and family. I think I'll be better, when all is said and done.

But right now, I'm packing my things into boxes and tubs, and right now, I want to cry.

[maddgical-boy]

remakin my pinned post bc i love spending hours on fun formats. anyways

⸝⸝⊂➜﹒it's me! ⊃⸝⸝

mark/vinny ☆ he/him ☆ minor (strictly 18+ only blogs block me)

hello all! here i post about all things daydreaming-related, as well as some self insert stuff since there is big overlap there for me.

i have mainly fictparacosms (paracosms of existing fictional media). i'm kinda shy about them so i don't discuss them as much but please be respectful when i do. they do not always line up with canon and i just want to be happy and have a fun time since my life is sad. :)

❤️ this blog is a safe space for all madders/iders and whatever you daydream about. even if it's considered really dark nasty shit, and even if it's willingly! fiction is fiction my friends. ❤️

feel free to send asks about my paracosms or about yours! tumblr is buggy and i am chronically ill so i may not get to it right away, but rest easy knowing each ask is treasured in my heart <3 i'm shy but i want to interact with you all

if you want to see more of my silly self talking about other random things, my main is @thecrimeofmans-laughter!

below are paracosms & tags!

paracosms ☁︎‎‎‧₊˚*𖦹

these fluctuate in and out of how relevant they are to me, especially because god cursed my interests to wholly take over my life and then suddenly evaporate like sweat. this is also why i have random mini paracosms that only come out of hibernation if my hyperfixation does too! lmao

───-> ORIGINAL

■ queerer things still — five teens learn of the magical secret realms on earth and travel through them to uncover the main para (enya liao)'s mysterious past. all of them have magical powers and all of them have emotional baggage that they are eventually forced to deal with by fighting monsters that target their greatest weaknesses. everything is weird and also everything is queer (hence the name).

───-> FICTPARACOSMS

■ arrows of shield — big crossover between marvel's agents of shield and the cw's arrowverse. at the center of it all is me, because i am awesome. (and because i need to cope with life.) the only other teenagers (and original paras) are cicero (an entity meant to deal with all emotional and physical pains) and jessop jiang (a boy from the typical 60s american suburb who accidentally killed his mother).

■ the super happy life of akemi ōtani — a blanket paracosm for all daydreams involving any of koei's musou warriors games (that i have played, which is dw8, sw2, 4, 4ii, and 5, and wo4). the name is from one of my two samurai warriors ocs, as she has a very normal, happy life with her dad and sister that is absolutely not besieged by period-typical war. (also my icon on this blog is of nō, who is a character from sw5! she's in her dlc outfit. i love her)

■ yttd paracosm 2 — i don't have a name for this one yet shhh. anyway have you ever theorized that shunsuke hayasaka is sue miley's mysterious fiancé and then made a yttd sona that has become separate from you and is also their adopted child and is also dating ranmaru kageyama and then spent way too much time rewriting the lore of the game to fit this change? that's what this is. (my first yttd paracosm is asunaroland which isn't as major anymore but yeah. i have 2 of these fuckers)

tags i'll use ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

i love using tags i love organizing i love formatting i love archiving ＼(^▽^＠)ノ ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ ~(≧◇≦)/ﾞﾞﾞ

my original posts -> #mark stops daydreaming for a sec.txt

answering asks -> #mark answers asks, #ask game answers | feel free to send in something from my ask game!

vents about madd -> #madd vent, #intrusive daydreaming | all of these are ok to rb

positivity about daydreaming -> #positivity <3

my art -> #martk | other art is on my toyhouse and instagram AND CARA!!

useful madd-related things -> #useful

anything not daydreaming-related, for whatever reason -> #not madd

...and probably other tags i'm forgetting! yayyy!!

all paracosms and paras are tagged #like this* to avoid anything (like fictpara stuff) showing up in big public tags because i am Scared

dividers: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[panthera2912]

P5R broke me

Hello tumblr ! I finished playing Persona 5 Royal and I have a lot of feelings about it and need to put it out there. And tumblr seemed like the best place for it even though I haven't posted in years x)

Beware, this post will contain spoilers (well, the game is old but there still might be people like me who are late to the party).

So, first of all, I wanted to play a Persona game for a long time since I heard a lot of good things about it, but I never got to it 'cause I didn't have the motivation to spend 100+ hours into a game (says the girl who played WoW for 10 years). But since it recently came out on Switch and I didn't have any ongoing game I decided to finally give it a try. And I'm SO glad I played the royal version because Akechi was by far my favorite character and a big part of why I loved this game, and apparently he didn't have as much development in the original ? And Sumire was my second favorite so... yeah, royal for the win !

Anyway, to talk about the plot, basically this game broke me several times.

The confrontation with Akechi in Shido's palace was absolutely heartbreaking (props to the voice actors, JA and EN). A lot of what he said hit way too close to home, and the whole time I was yelling at my screen for Joker to say something ("say something i'm giving up on you" cover by Robbie Daymond playing in the background).

Anyway, I spent the rest of the game grieving (and raging against Shido because will you fucking die goddamnit, I've been fighting you for 45 minutes !!!!), but then Akechi reappears like nothing happened ??? And he's way too evasive about how he survived ????? And then Maruki's like, sike, got you, he dead ! ... Thank you game, I don't need to grieve a second time.

And of course, Akechi knew the whole fucking time, and didn't say anything, and he basically tells Joker he wants to die and tells him he doesn't need pity. Like, excuse me Sir ?! But first of all don't talk about yourself like that, and secondly, what about Joker in all of this ? This is not about pity, Joker wished for Akechi to be here. Like, seriously, Joker deserves to be happy after everything he's been through. And I get what Akechi is saying, he doesn't want to be toyed with by Maruki, like he's been controlled all his life, but he's aware of it, and I'm sure he could find happiness somewhere in this...

So... after staring at my screen 5 whole minutes, I took Maruki's offer. I'm weak, I know, I really just wanted to see them happy for once, they deserve the world. That end card is my wallpaper now.

But anyway, after taking a break, back to the true ending because I'm still curious despite it all. So we defeat Maruki, and Joker's reward is some time in jail and Akechi disappearing. Great. At least they get him out of jail but like, nobody talks to him about Akechi ? They know that Akechi was Joker's wish but they don't address it with him. Seriously, someone at least give this guy a hug, wtf ? Through the WHOLE game, he helped every single one of them. But no, he's the leader, he needs to stay strong, right...

And then when Joker goes to the jazz club.. and he still has Akechi's glove in his pocket... Excuse me, just crying over there.

To top it all, I was dating Sumire in this playthrough (rank 9 event done), but since I didn't get her to 10, the game acted like nothing happened. I spent valentine's day alone and it felt like Joker and her had broken up so it just added that much more drama lol.

But really, I love tragedies, and this game delivered. This was a well-crafted rollercoaster of emotion from start to finish and every hour was worth it. And it's very rare for me to do multiple playthough of a game, but I definitely will for this one. This is going in my top 5 games of all times for sure.

Anyway, I'm dead inside now and I'll probably be reblogging memes to cope x)

(Also, on a lighter note, the music in this game is a bop. Lyn is absolutely incredible.)

[hes-writer]

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.  

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker. 

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs. 

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black. 

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3) 

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend.  A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body. 

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again. 

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.  

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class 

[fanfic-corner]

15x18 Fics - !SPOILERS AHEAD!

I think we can all agree that everyone - fans or not - were pretty shocked by the reveal of last week, and everywhere (Tumblr most of all) seemed to explode. AO3 was not exempt from this massive outpouring of creations, so here are some fics based on That Scene. I will warn you that not all of them are fix-it fics, and most of them are quite short for obvious reasons.

Like Real People Do by prosopopeya on AO3. (4,490 words).

Tags: Coda, Episode Fix-it, Fluff and Angst, Spoilers, Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Castiel experienced a moment of pure happiness, expecting it to be his last. It wasn't. 

Notes: This was so poetic and absolutely gorgeous.

The same old tears (wish you were here) by DestielIsFuckinReal on AO3. (1,992 words).

Tags: Temporary Character Death, Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Coda, Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Notes: The speech marks were slightly annoying, but other than that, this was beautiful.

Never Enough by make_your_user_a_name on AO3. (1,556 words).

Tags: Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Love Confessions, Supportive Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Knows, Domestic Fluff.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: It took him hours to notice it. He hadn’t felt it in the moment. Hadn’t felt the Cas’ hand stick slightly to his shoulder as it pushed him away, leaving him to face the Empty alone. But now that he’d noticed it, it was all he could look at. That bright red handprint standing out starkly against his jacket. It was perfect, really. Not a drop out of place. Just a handprint and nothing else. That was all he had left. The handprint where Castiel had “gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.” And now he’d saved him one more time. Same shoulder, same placement, same sting when Dean looked at it. It was poetic in the cruelest of ways. And if it weren’t for everything, he would have thought this was Chuck’s writing. But, no. Castiel was the only part of Chuck’s story that he couldn’t control. Because Cas had fallen.

Notes: Now this fic brought out the ugly tears.

this is a good thing, dean. (prayer is a sign of faith) by cascountsdeansfreckles on AO3. (529 words).

Tags: Prayer, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, post 15x18, 15x18 coda.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean’s legs still don’t want to move. He sits propped up against the wall and stares unseeing at the chair in the middle of the room. Everything that Cas said plays over and over in his head. The image of Cas looking devastatingly relieved, content, as he was taken from Dean won’t leave his mind. He doesn’t know what else to do. So he prays.

Notes: Okay, and I’m crying. Again. The one time Cas can’t hear Dean’s prayers is the one time it is the most important.

all the things i’ve never said by Saffir on AO3. (849 words).

Tags: 15x18 Fix-it, Angst, Heavy Angst, First Kiss, Confessions, Sad Ending, Nonbinary Castiel.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Castiel knows that their time has come. The past decade has been spent protecting Dean, living for Dean, dying for Dean. It finally comes time to sacrifice themself one last time. He wasn’t expecting it to hurt this much.

Notes: Confirmation of their relationship would have been nice! I mean, I firmly believe Dean reciprocated, but it would be nice to know for sure. And oh boy, I had not stopped to think about the scene from Cas’ point of view.

gay love pierced through the veil of death and saved the day by firefliesandstarlight on AO3. (444 words).

Tags: Fix-it, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Cas doesn’t die. That’s literally it.

Notes: Is it bad I found out that Charlie died through the end notes of this fic? Like, imagine writing a scene so moving that it overpowers the fact that several other fan favourites died in that same episode.

15x18 coda: it’s in the being by contemplativepancakes on AO3. (1,167 words). 

Tags: Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Coda, Dean Winchester Can’t Cope, Hurt Dean Winchester.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Blood splatters from a severed neck, the body twitching before it collapses to the floor. It sprays across Dean’s face, dotting red droplets over his cheeks and in his hair. Dean keeps his mouth shut so he doesn’t get the taste of copper stuck in it; he already can’t get Cas’s face out of his mind. Dean knows this is the last place he should be, that with the world ending, it doesn’t really matter if there’s one less nest of vamps in the world, but if he stops moving, then he’ll… have to think. “I wondered what my true happiness could even look like, because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have.” 

Fuck, they wasted so much time.

Notes: I don’t even know what to say anymore. My heart is simultaneously full and utterly broken.

1 Missed Call by glenien on AO3. (597 words).

Tags: Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Referenced Character Death, Angst, Dean Winchester is a Dumbass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death!Castiel, Coda, Fluff and Angst.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: The buzzing never stops.

Notes: I love the implications of Dean literally flirting with Death here, and even though this isn’t the ending I think we’ll get, I can still hope!

Only know you love him when you let him go by Azura_lights_18 on AO3. (1,365 words).

Tags: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Hurt/Comfort, Dean Deserves to be Happy, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Destiel is finally canon... for ten seconds. My hopes for the upcoming episodes (just let Destiel live, please.)

Notes: I am loving the inventive ways people are bringing Cas back! I have hope, but that might just be me putting my clown wig on.

maybe just this once (let me keep this one) by psyiocke on AO3. (1,678 words).

Tags: Episode: s15e18 Despair, Canonical Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester listens in silence, and he mourns in it too.

or the aftermath of hearing your best friend say he loves you and then watching him die.

Notes: Oh boy here I go again. That tag, by the way, is much too soon. But if this is what happened at the end, I would be happy.

Instinct by CKLizzy on AO3. (510 words).

Tags: Fix-it of Sorts, Episode s15e18 Despair, Episode Fix-it.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Dean reacted on pure instinct. Instinct he didn't know he even had.

Notes: Oh, if only. I would have passed out.

A World Redeemed by Lif61 on AO3. (732 words).

Tags: Season 15 Spoilers, Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, POV Dean Winchester, Romance, Love, Happy Ending.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Cas is gone, and the world is saved. But not for Dean.

Notes: I do really hope Cas comes back. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to go and have some words with someone.

Happiness is What Makes You Cry by AnotherWorld3111 on AO3. (358 words).

Tags: Angst, Referenced Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Hurt No Comfort, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Just... read the goddamn tags

Notes: Oh man, if Dean actually breaks down in front of Sam, I will die on the spot.

All Out of Love by asofthesea on AO3. (681 words).

Tags: Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst and Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post Episode: s15e18 Despair, Homophobic John Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Jack Kline, One Shot, Brotherly Love, Feelings.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: After the events of 15x18, Despair, Sam and Jack rush back to the bunker to find Dean alone, and falling apart at the seams.

Notes: John Winchester would have been homophobic and no one can change my mind.

Tag to “Despair” (15x18) by Alvinola on AO3. (793 words).

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Sam has to pick up the pieces when Cas is gone.

Notes: Seriously, these fics are making me cry all over again. I mean, what can Sam possibly say to make any of this better? That’s heartbreaking in itself.

And a shameless self-promotion:

‘I love you’ by LinaRai on AO3. (420 words).

Tags: Angst, Episode: s15e18 Despair, Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, I’m Sorry.

Description: "I love you." Dean just stares at him.

Notes: I wrote this in a Criminology lesson while eating a bag of crisps which basically equated to my lunch because I was a mess and I had to. And yes, I am fully aware that I write things with major character death too often. So sue me.

So, how is everyone feeling? I’ve started re-reading Angel’s Wild in a wild (get it) attempt to cope. Also, this led to me having a full conversation with one of my teachers about Sherlock. ‘Maybe next time don’t use a current show as an example of queerbaiting,’ she said, as if any of us expected Destiel to go canon. Seriously, how do you explain to a 40 year old woman who only just realised that BBC Sherlock might possibly be queerbaiting how much no one expected that to happen? 

[takaraphoenix]

I love Once Upon a Time. I loved it since it first started airing and I first started watching it. For years, it was my absolute favorite TV show.

This post isn’t really about the show, in case you’re getting your hopes up. I rambled about it at length here, which resulted in a rewatch, which stirred up some old things that I want to talk about here.

I loved this show, I loved it a lot. Peak loving it started in about 2013. Because sharing something you love with someone you love just makes it all the better, right? And my best friend back then, she also loved it, she loved it so much.

We used to watch it together. Meet up regularly to watch a bunch of episodes together. We turned the half season about Fr0zen into an all-day drinking game binge, because we both disliked that movie greatly but love this show.

We just -- clicked on this. Her favorite fairy tale is Beauty and the Beast, a story I... don’t dig at all. But OUaT’s Beauty and Beast are just about the only valid BatB adaptation and the only time I ship those two.

We got to fangirl about it all together, ships, characters, plotlines, Disney movies handled badly/good. It was so much fun.

And then things started to slowly... fizz out. Occasions on which she took the time for us to watch together became rarer and rarer.

And I know she had a lot going on back then in her life, mentally, physically, just everything really. And I 100% understand not having the emotional capacity to hang out with people.

But it was... kind of... just me. We were facebook friends too and I’d see her post about that weekend she went on a con with those four friends, that Wednesday afternoon she spent gaming with this friend, that Saturday she drove hours to visit another friend. And when every time I asked, the answer would be she’d be too exhausted right now, or she had just spent last weekend socializing so she needed a “me weekend” this week?

There’s not always having the emotional capacity to socialize and then there is having the emotional capacity to socialize with those people but not with one person in particular, because on her own, she kind of just stopped suggesting that we could do anything. Even on the more social days, I saw her post about the people she sought out to hang out with while I kept getting told she had no capacity for it.

That’s telling. At one point, that starts becoming a pattern and it starts becoming telling all on its own. And when you live only half an hour apart but have only seen each other three times over the course of an entire calendar year - and those three occasions were her birthday, my birthday and the birthday of her other best friend with whom I was friends too, not a single day where we just hung out, but “obligatory” meet ups of birthdays? Heck, I see my extended family more often because we throw in Easter and Christmas into that mix.

For many, many months I keep thinking that I was asking too much, demanding too much attention, because she has her mental issues and everything going on. But the more time passed and the more often I saw her have the emotional availability to hang out and be with other non-me people, the more I felt like no, I wasn’t really asking too much, because a friendship should be a two way street. I shouldn’t have to be the one to carry the entire brunt force of emotional availability and support and understanding for her; she should, despite her own situation, also be able to make time for me. In at least some way, at at least some point.

I spent that whole year having a USB drive laying around with a half watched season of Once Upon a Time (we made it halfway into season 5B). And it’s stupid and it’s not even about the show really, the show and those episodes on that USB drive just symbolize how much time she used to be able to take for us, how much fun we used to have together, how eager we both were to spend time together, and how it was now just me, carrying it around, trying to run after her, begging for some time she may have to spare for me.

During that year, we had a fallout. A stupid argument that somehow evolved into a huge fallout in which many things were said that are now burned into the back of my mind because they just cut that deep. And when I thought we could rekindle, we needed to talk about this, it was too much work. That’s what I was told, in the end, point-blank, that working through our issues and talking about this thing that really hurt me a lot emotionally would be too much emotional work for her. 10 years of friendship weren’t worth that work to rekindle.

That was one and a half years ago now. We haven’t spoken since.

I haven’t touched Once Upon a Time in three years total. Since we stopped watching, in the middle of season 5B - I had finished the show already at that point; was one and a half seasons ahead of where the two of us were stuck, which only shows just how much she had been putting me off even before the total stop in watching, especially considering we used to watch four, five episodes in a sitting on a normal day, especially considering we watched a whole half season in that one day. But between the actual release of season 5 and the finale of season 6, we barely watched half a season.

And I deleted the other left over episodes from our rewatch in angry frustration and I really haven’t been able to go back to Once Upon a Time since then, because just looking at it makes me remember all the good times we had - and remembering the good times just makes it hurt all the more, because those are the parts you miss.

It’s been three years since I last watched Once Upon a Time. Even though it is my favorite show. Even though the craving for that beloved show and how much I loved it had been there. But it just... felt way too sad to consider watching it all alone, because it’ll make me miss the best friend I lost.

I started rewatching Once Upon a Time four days ago. Because a silly little ask about my opinion on this show that I used to love so, so much sparked the curiosity of my best friend. Because, against all odds, this absolute disaster who still hasn’t finished watching Shadowhunters and is just really, really bad at watching TV shows, decided to watch OUaT, of all shows. Of all the shows I’ve been recommending her and told her to watch over the past three years that we’ve been friends now, she ended up to pick this one, this one that I hadn’t actually even explicitely recommended to her.

Of all the shows to watch, she picked this one. And she seems to really love it. And I am enjoying her enthusiasm so much and hearing her fangirl about all those characters and ships that I used to love so very dearly made me miss it so much that I decided to start rewatching it too.

And now we’re both half a season into this show and I get to fall in love with all my favorite characters and ships all over again, I get to experience that immense joy of watching something I love with someone I love who also loves this thing so much. And I missed this so much.

I missed this show so much, but this isn’t even just about the show as a piece of media for consumption; I missed loving this show with someone else. I missed this feeling that it gives me and I don’t know if, or when, I’d have been able to rewatch that all on my own again because it still makes me sad at parts because it makes me remember a friendship I lost, but now it also makes me incredibly happy to be able to share it with this friend I cherish.

And I really don’t know how to put into words how much this means to me, on such a weird level, so instead of being a Normal Person and just telling her, I am writing sappy, stupid posts on tumblr because this has become my way of coping with big emotions that make me feel things.

[atelophobicity]

Top 10 Things You Shouldn’t Do If You Want to Finish Your Thesis On Time

It’s my entry for September! I’ve been busy in consuming new music, films, and kvariety episodes in my effort to catch up on everything. So, I decided to post monthly to fulfill my oversharing Tumblr needs and to exercise my skills in writing in English and putting thoughts into coherent words.

TL;DR of this: things I’ve done instead of doing my thesis for the past year and a half. I’m not romanticizing my not doing thesis self for the past 21 months, but I’m also not dissuading you from doing other stuff besides thesis because god knows, you will need something.

1. Got a part-time job. This was the first new thing I’ve done that really took my time and effectively gave me no time to do thesis. And yet, this was the most rewarding thing as I learned how to get my TIN, accomplish my deliverables, answer to my superiors etc. Looking back, I wasn’t the best employee and I deserved no job offers on the same company after. But still, it was a stepping stone in the right direction. Adulting-wise, anyway.

2.  Discover the art of creating.

Journal spreads. I bought a 2019 planner and I couldn’t fill it up, so I decided to turn it into a journal-planner. The art materials I used for to design pages are from old supplies bought back when I was in high school or stickers from the fandom-related events I attended. I didn’t spend money and I was given a chance to be creative.

Sew doll clothes. In K-pop, dolls that look like your idol exists. It usually comes with one set of clothes to dress it. As a “doll mother”, I wanted to dress them with new clothes but buying clothes was expensive. So, I just sewed clothes for them. I made clothes from scrap fabrics or clothes no one wears in our household. I’ve been barely successful, but it’s one of the things that keep me happy and make me feel like I’ve succeeded in one measly part of my life.

3. Purged my online files.

From my high school files. Nostalgia has been one of my coping mechanisms. I was able to be provided by lots of it when I discovered that I didn’t lose my high school files and it was on my mom’s laptop all along. Being able to relive memories while organizing my files was the best hours of that day.

To my external hard drives. Since 2016, I have been a hoarder of online files for so long that I have two EHDs to prove it. This time though, I was able to delete content that was either repetitive or uninteresting anymore. I was able to shave off some of my data bytes and am now able to save new interesting content available online (if I ever find one).

4. Realigned my priorities and consumption of K-pop as a stan and as a person by:

Selling 3/4 of my merch. Unlearning the pride that comes with owning K-pop merch was difficult, but overtime, I have been proud of myself for not falling to the traps of capitalism—at least in K-pop. Also! I was able to buy my own concert tickets with the stuff I sold so it is a win!

Joining giveaways instead. No matter how I can avoid the urge to buy K-pop merch, I still can’t help but want to own them. This is where I discovered how joining giveaways was my next best option. It takes a lot of effort and screenshots to win these things. However, if and when you win, it really feels like winning against the odds. You get free merch too!

Actually spent hours to vote and stream. In relation to the last point, since the main requirement in giveaways I’ve joined are voting/streaming proofs, I have been one of those people who collects points on voting apps or has a playlist of music videos that should be streamed. After collecting and/or streaming, I take screenshots, put watermarks there, and tags mutuals if needed. It’s relatively hard work but there’s a feeling of pride when your idol wins the poll or an MV reaches a certain amount of views and you know you participated in making that happen.

5. Rediscover Youtube. Channels like the vlogbrothers and their associates (Crash Course, Pemberley Digital among others), Buzzfeed’s shows (The Try Guys, Ladylike, Buzzfeed Unsolved) were a delight to watch after being out of the Youtube loop for so long. The platform also offered new niches of content and I allowed myself to be sucked in it. From Simply Nailogical to Ask A Mortician to amazing pop culture video essays like Lindsay Ellis and Jenny Nicholson, Youtube has all it for you! Learning something new every day is one of my favorite things and I get to do it with this website.

6. Rediscover my love of writing. (As if I’ve written anything for my thesis but here.)

Made drabbles. There is a weekly activity on my fandom where we write < 500 word drabbles on any pairings. I have been joining when I can, and through the support of the (small) community (back then), I gained confidence to write one. I’ve written at least four now and I’ve not done yet because I’ve been on a slump lately. But I’ll get back to it soon!

Short story. The same account that brought the drabble challenge created a festival where we write a pairing and write a short story with it. I decided to join the event! Not going to lie, my entry was shit, It was the first draft, it needed a lot of revisions and more constructive criticism and yet, I am still proud of it. It was the first creative fiction I wrote since 2019 and I did it in a day. And, I believe it has potential, so I’m going to review and revise the hell out of it someday.

7. Reclaim my college days.

Reconnected with orgmates. Visiting Elbi for registration and consultation purposes are brightened up by the fact that I get to do this. My first four years of college were not kind to me. I’ve forgotten a lot of things because of trauma and deep sadness that I still have until this day, and when I remember good things, they’re few and far in between. The numbered days I was in Elbi during 2019 were also few and far in between, but they were infinitely better than my academic years from 2015 to 2017. I was able to do the things I wasn’t able to do before (mostly attending Happy Ts and eating in newly-opened food places there) and I get to do it with people I love.

Made friends. One of the drawbacks of being a slot-driven student with no care of my coursemates’ schedules: I didn’t get to establish a friend group. So I didn’t get to make friends. During this time, I’ve accepted that I didn’t have any friends outside my organizations. But this time, instead of a feeling of dread of being that cliché orgmate, I feel relief and happiness because now, I realize that I do have friends from college, unlike the 2015-2017 who didn’t have anyone in college to rely on her darkest times.

8. Appreciated my friends more. For the past few years, I was the shitty friend. I agreed to go on hangouts only to message them that I’m backing out the last minute—sometimes I even straight up ghosted them. I really took my friends for granted. I have been slowly making it up to them by always attending when there’s an invite! I sometimes initiate the invite and it’s always a fun and healing time for me (it was a literal healing time for me as I was depressed during that time). I love them and I’m always thankful for them—and more so now than before.

 9. Unlearning things like:

Realizing that a priv (a private account meant to be seen by your mutuals you trust; usually contains unpopular opinions and hot takes on stan twitter) only encourages negative emotions and I must not do it again.

No matter how I tried rationalizing my hate for Jennie when the JenKai dating news happened, I was one of those K-pop stans who hated her because she dated my idol. (I have moved on past that and have started liking her and Rose.)

Knowing that attacking people for what they say won’t make them unlearn their wrong opinions. Not talking down at them and educating with patience is the key, always.

There are still so much more I unlearned and learned where those came from. My main takeaway is: it’s complicated.  Sometimes our opinion needs a more nuanced perspective and sometimes it needs to scrapped entirely because it was just wrong. But it is essential so we, as people, won’t be stuck with outdated views of the world.

10.   Learning something new like:

Practicing how to do Tzuyu’s helicopter hands until I realized it wasn’t meant for me.

Utilizing Omegle to look for potential quaranflings.

Installing Telegram and uninstalling to ghost quaranflings.

How to do laundry in compliance with my mother’s preferences.

Doing two things at once.

Enough patience to take time and read the laws our government makes every day to know what I’m fighting against.

Optimizing my Twitter lists and now I can keep up with current affairs (that takes a toll on my mental health) then scroll through a fic fest-centric list the next (that helps me forget the stress from reading news).

Learning something new every day has become one of my life goals. Knowing that the world always has something new to offer to me, a speck in this universe, warms me up and keeps me going. And you’ll never know where the new tidbits will lead you. Maybe it’ll help you reconnect with something you’ve known before, maybe it’ll change how you see things, or maybe it’s something new that once explored, it will contribute something new to the community. It may seem small and unimportant but with a tweak in perspective, it might be something worth doing and pursuing.

Looking back at my list, I can finally see how if I didn’t do all these things, I would have probably finished my thesis by now and probably working a full-time job, able to provide the financial needs for my family. There will always be regret that I am still not done until now. But stressing over my current predicament in this time when the world is in its most stressful state yet won’t help me. So, we soldier on and hopefully, hopefully get back to the thesis I’ve been meaning to do.

 Let’s get it.

[seven-oomen]

Hi Ben!  I see you’re still enjoying the absolute insanity that has gripped tumblr the last couple of days XD .  As someone who’s been a tumblr lurker for a number of years, this is hysterical enough from my side.  I can’t imagine the sheer ridiculousness of seeing it firsthand.  Virtually every blog I check, no matter if they’ve ever seen a SPN episode or not, has been posting about it.  It is WILD.

I feel like I’m at least a little lucky that I always skewed more ‘lock’ than anything (mainly because my 'who’ took a hard dive into Torchwood and never really recovered), so there’s less emotional flashbacks/richochets/rollercoastering/etc.  (Yes, I did in fact see the news about Sherlock season 5, but I never saw season 4 because of some of the feedback I heard before I got the chance to watch it, so it’ll take something truly impressive to draw me back now.)  Although in a roundabout way Sherlock is what eventually led me to Teen Wolf because of multi-focus blogs, so I guess I can thank it for that.

Work was one of those super fun days where the manager leaving not long after I got there was all “Yeah, it’s been really calm, and both deliveries so far have been small and should be easy to deal with."  So of course, about an hour after he leaves, four more pallets full of stuff show up, so I spent pretty much my whole shift trying to get everything checked in.  On the one hand, yay, less customers, on the other, hauling that shit around in a mask gets hot.

That dish sounds delicious, and definitely better than my sad lunch/dinner at work.  Ngl, I’m extremely jealous.

And omg, the last line post now has me nervous again because there are multiple options of who is saying whatever it is to whom, and all of them hurt.  XD  Also very here for the idea of a pack of three year-olds trying to pull a Parent Trap on their respective dads.  Is there a treehouse or playhouse they can lock them into to talk?  A moment of Jax and Stiles pointing out that they both agree on this, so they should know that it’s serious?  Trying to make them draw or write down why they’re sad, or whatever similar coping skills the dad usually has the kid use?  Trying to take away a treat of some sort/ground them from doing something/etc until they agree to talk to each other?  So many possibilities.

I cackled at that coffee shop guy post, because the sheer obliviousness demonstrated by the op throughout the story is almost the exact energy being displayed by Peter in my fake dating fic and seeing a story of it happening in RL about took me out.  XD

Also, I’m super curious what kinds of rituals you’re planning for the fic.  Good, bad, druidic, wolfy, pack, wedding, birth, sexy, friendship, binding, warding, ???  Inquiring minds want to know (whenever you are ready to share of course.  Inquiring minds can also be patient. ;D )

Oh, a funny moment at work!  I was picking up one of the pallets after I’d emptied it, and there was a knot in one of the boards that I almost knocked out as I grabbed it, and my brain’s immediate thought was "Whoops, almost just popped the knot on that wood”, immediately followed by the thought “Oh god, no, jesus christ, PHRASING, tonight of all nights, no."  (I am super sad that there is no one I work with that I could scream about this with.)

Anyway, I should wrap up because I need to leave for work soon.  Enjoy the continuing thrill ride that is this site, and best of vibes for any writing attempts today!  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Okay I’m gonna add the preview to your fic from your last message to this one so I have it all in one message here. Because after writing over 3K yesterday my brain is just really tired and I keep wanting to nap today. Haven’t done much and replying to two messages is a bit much. 

On the flip side, I did update Final Masquerade today and that chapter is almost 7K long. So yay!

Also, my fucking feelings while writing that. Jesus christ on a pogo stick.

And in the spirit of “Oh, did you say enemies-to-lovers?  Sorry, I heard idiots-to-lovers”, here is another preview from the fake dating fic, because I love this part, and it features the first appearance of Fashion Consultant Peter:

“Peter, what the hell are you doing in my closet?” Noah’s voice sounded like it was thankfully more bemused than annoyed, but Peter knew that it could be a fine line to walk.

“Trying not to cry in despair, for the most part. Why is everything you own at least a size too big and some shade of brown?” Peter called back over his shoulder, still staring at the somewhat neatly organized rainbow of dull, listless neutrals in growing dismay.

“I’m wearing a green shirt right now, asshole, and not all of us are interested in looking like we got squeezed into our clothing by force. Some of us actually acknowledge our age, and try to dress somewhat appropriately. Some of us also understand the value of blending in.”

“Okay, firstly, age, as they say, is just a number. Secondly, there’s trying not to stand out, and there’s just giving up. Though frankly, I’ve never quite put much stock in either.”

“Color me shocked to hear that from someone I’ve seen wear a cardigan like it was an actual shirt on more than one occasion.”

Peter shrugged as he continued to rifle through hangers and peek into storage containers, though he wasn’t certain that Noah could even see him from within the depths of the walk-in. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” The sigh that answered him held a level of long-suffering, begrudging patience that Peter was far more used to hearing directed at Stiles than himself.

—–

Why yes, there is indeed a trip suit shopping in the story.  Basically, I am cramming in every random obnoxiously trope-y thing I can remember from the few rom coms I’ve seen.  Also, there is so much food in this story.  Like, it’s ridiculous how often there someone ends up eating something.  I’m not even sure where it came from.

I’ve been reading this multiple times in the last few days, it’s just so cute! 

He’s in the closet huh? Is he gonna come out?

Sorry, sorry, I’ll can it XD 

And honestly, I think Tumblr’s 2012 insanity streak is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Because holy shit what a week.

I never really got into Sherlock myself or Doctor Who. I think I saw one episode of Dr. who (with David Tennant I think) and three episodes of Sherlock because my mom used to watch it.

I saw 12 seasons of Supernatural though, I definitely had an obsession with Destiel and particularly Dean Winchester. Fun fact; Cosplaying Dean made me comfortable enough to come out to my friends as transgender. Because I realized that I couldn't hide my gender even if I tried so hard for over 23 years.

And it was Supernatural that eventually led me to Teen Wolf. Well, that and Grimm, which was also a really fun show and really interesting.

Oh boy, yeah whenever a manager told me that I knew I was gonna be in for a very interesting night. For sure, sucks that you had to do that in a mask though. But on the other hand, no customer interaction does sound like it was a nice break in a way. And OMG I snorted!

It’s a good thing we don’t work together, I feel like the jokes wouldn’t have ended. My god I’m still snickering.

And omg, the last line post now has me nervous again because there are multiple options of who is saying whatever it is to whom, and all of them hurt.  XD  Also very here for the idea of a pack of three year-olds trying to pull a Parent Trap on their respective dads.  Is there a treehouse or playhouse they can lock them into to talk?  A moment of Jax and Stiles pointing out that they both agree on this, so they should know that it’s serious?  Trying to make them draw or write down why they’re sad, or whatever similar coping skills the dad usually has the kid use?  Trying to take away a treat of some sort/ground them from doing something/etc until they agree to talk to each other?  So many possibilities.

I do have a bit of an idea to have them go to the cinema with the kids and make them watch the parent trap, which of course leads to all sorts of shenanigans back at home where Allison and Malia are constantly trying to lock the dads in a room together, aided by Derek and Laura because Malia can’t reach the door handles just yet. Meanwhile Stiles and Jackson are coming up with increasingly elaborate schemes for two three-year-olds that involve their dads being locked in tree houses, sheds, and other places. Not to mention, the kindergarten pact.

And I like to think at some point the wives and Melissa start helping the kids as well. I mean I’d really like to build one giant polyamorous family for this fic.

[kitsoa]

Update 3/20/20

I haven’t updated tumblr as much as twitter at this moment but just an update. On Sunday my school district announced temporary closing until April 3rd to respond to the current crisis. I spent Monday and Tuesday at work preparing the kids and for the past 2 days I’ve been handling as many affairs as possible. 

As I am an elementary music teacher, the extent of my work-from-home situation is rather mild. I was simply told to be available for communication during my work hours. K-2 doesn’t have Chromebooks and while 3-5 brought home their laptops for the first time ever, I did not sufficiently train them for any only resources that I could use during this remote engagement. That being said, I did devise ‘enrichment activities” for each grade level that was sent home along with other subjects to simply encourage a learning environment. It seems like a drop in the bucket, especially when there is suspicion that we are not coming back for the rest of the year.

I’ll be the first to tell you that I needed a break from the classroom. Teaching has been hard and I’ve been in survival mode for a while. But that’s what spring break is for. I was looking forward to driving ahead to the end and recouping in the summer with research, planning, and a better context. But this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind. 

I have been grappling with several layers of grief while befuddled with the surreal sensation permeating my entire life right now. Because I am not just a teacher who abruptly halted the tail end of her first year-- whose students are confused and resource-less and scattered out of structure. I’m a musician, with musician friends and cherished organizations suddenly and irrevocably out of work and out of an outlet. Three times a week I devote hours to 4 organizations.  A paid chorus that I serve as soloist and principal to, my church chorus currently preparing for holy week, my church bell choir that was going to perform last weekend, and my children’s choir which I co-direct and lead. Every single one of these commitments came to a halt practically overnight. As reports and mandates continued, my spring concerts got canceled and the possibility of my busiest gig-weekend of my entire year is now no longer likely. 

I am okay. I am supported by my salary from my teaching job which many of my friends cannot say the same. Alongside that sympathetic anguish beyond my own needs is this very oppressive sense of loss and uncertainty. “Making music together” is a dogma I tout to my students and live it through my joy of creating with those organizations. I take pride in knowing that many of my colleagues find fellowship in the exact same way and that we all work towards the same goal of lifting up our song, cherishing the past, and inviting innovation in our beautiful world. That has been suddenly taken from underneath us for that exact same reason. A little emotionally confusing to say the least.

It’s not like we’ll never get it back or that this event somehow damages the heart of those efforts. But alongside the fiscal damages to my industry, the pull toward congregation is maddening and palpable, more so than ever. We laugh at the fairweather opinions on being alone and isolation but I think it comes from a realization that these gatherings, these cornerstones of personal purpose-- they aren’t invincible constructs. I have always personally been okay with being by myself. I have many hobbies and projects that are isolated and precious to me. But I know it’s because I frequently exhaust my social needs through structured commitments with my social craft. Its absence now is glaring. 

I have touched little on the actual crisis itself. With my parents in at-risk demographics both in age and health concerns-- it’s been a battle with my swirl of emotions to act responsibly. I am refusing to visit them and that alone is a painful concept. But they are capable of bullheadedness and ignorance and right now my twin brother is the only aiding body in the house for them. He is prone to escapism and willful ignorance as he copes with stress. I want nothing more than their safety and health, along with anyone in those categories. It is surreal to see how this has transformed my world and will be a sight to see when we arrive on the other side. The synonymous feelings in the community alone are vivid and unforgettable. 

We just have to hope that we can be proud of ourselves when we do look back. 

--

So I will be writing and drawing soon. At least when my muses comeback. Stress is a toxic thing for creativity. So look forward to that. Please take care of yourself and your community. Drop me an ask if you want me to wax poetry or something. I am here for the foreseeable future.

[splendidlyimperfect]

Sting’s entire life changed when he was eleven years old and his best friend Rogue told a secret that he’d promised to keep. Taken away from the father who abused him and the best friend who’d tried to save him, Sting tried to start a new life with his uncle. But the trauma wasn’t easy to escape, and eventually Sting turned to drinking to forget the things that hurt.

Now he’s an adult, and he hasn’t been sober in years. But when drinking nearly kills him and a near-stranger saves his life, Sting has a chance to turn his life around, and maybe become the man that Rogue deserves to love.

Chapter Summary: Sting gets some good news, but he needs to make some things right before he can move on with his new life.

Chapters (13/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Natsu Dragneel & Sting Eucliffe, Sting Eucliffe & Weisslogia Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Rogue Cheney, Gray Fullbuster, Weisslogia (Fairy Tail) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Trans Character, Trans Sting, Friendship, Childhood Friends, Sting-focused story, Sting is a disaster, Natsu’s a great friend, Rogue tries to do what’s right, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 2 of i’m still standing

-----

ab·​so·​lu·​tion | \ ˌab-sə-ˈlü-shən noun : the act of forgiving someone for having done something wrong or sinful

.

xiv spring age twenty-one

.

A week after Sting celebrates two years of being sober, he gets a letter from the Crocus Police Academy.

“I can’t open it,” he says, staring at his name, typed in thick block letters, and trying to ignore the sensation that he isn’t quite real. Natsu, who is sitting across from him at the kitchen table, kicks his ankle.

“You’ve been working your ass off for this for almost a year,” Natsu says, nudging the letter toward Sting. “C’mon. You can do it.”

Sting runs his fingers across the envelope, thinking back to the months of being subjected to nearly every test possible – a physical evaluation, psychological assessment, written testing, fingerprinting, even a polygraph test. At first, he’d been certain that the academy wouldn’t even consider him with his – as Natsu put it – “colorful past.” But he didn’t have a criminal record, and between the letter of recommendation from his AA sponsor and the addictions program where he’d started to volunteer, they’d seen past it and let him go through the application process.

Now he just has to open the letter.

Continue reading on AO3

“I can’t,” he says, more to himself than Natsu, but despite the words he slowly slides his finger under the seal. He tugs out the paper, takes a deep breath, then starts to read out loud. “Mister Eucliffe, we would like to congratulate you on your acceptance into the Crocus Police Academy.”

The words take a minute to sink in, and by the time the word acceptance finally registers in Sting’s brain, Natsu’s already hugging him.

“I knew you could do it,” he says, squeezing Sting tightly, then pulling back to look at the letter. “The first session begins on April 7th,” Natsu keeps reading. “Shit, that’s in two weeks.”

A flash of panic runs through Sting and he sets the letter down, exhaling shakily and focusing on the wood grain pattern of the table. “Holy shit,” he whispers. “I did—it’s real. I’m gonna… fuck, what if I can’t—”

“Hey.” Natsu nudges his shoulder and sits down next to him. “You can do this. Look at how far you’ve come. Two years ago, you were throwing up on my shoes, and now you’re here.” He squeezes Sting’s hand. “You deserve this.”

Sting swallows heavily, closing his eyes and counting backwards from twenty as he tries to even out his breathing. It’s all hitting him at once – he’ll have to move back to Crocus, back to the place where his life fell to pieces. Back to the police station where he’d spent afternoons with his dad, to the place he’d first met Rogue, to the place where he’d lost everything.

He’d considered staying in Danston, back when he’d first decided to apply. There’s a police academy here too, and he could keep living with Natsu, keep going to the same therapist, keep going to the meetings where he knows everyone.

But something in him knows that he has to go home.

“I have to leave,” he says quietly, and he only realizes he’s crying when a wet spot appears on the letter. “I have—it’s on the other side of the country.” He looks up at Natsu, who also has tears in his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Natsu says, wrapping an arm around Sting’s shoulders. “But I’m so, so proud of you and I know you can do this.”

Sting nods slowly, staring at the words through a blurry haze of tears. A sensation that he doesn’t quite understand floods through him as he stares at the address, and it takes him a second to realize that it’s pride.

“I can do this,” he whispers. He’s about to keep reading the letter when a painful sense of longing hits him, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

He wants to show the letter to Uncle Wes.

His tears fall harder as the sensation intensifies, and all he can picture is a kind face and gentle touch, and a voice whispering, “I will always love you, no matter what.” Sting’s mind skips through memory after memory with him – they’re chaotic and scattered and full of disappointment. Every one of them ends in hurt and tears.

But when he looks down at the letter and reads the first line over and over again, he’s certain that this is finally going to make Uncle Wes proud.

~

The next week is a blur of packing, phone calls and paperwork. Finding an apartment is easy, and Sting makes sure it’s as far away from his old home as possible. His new roommate, a guy named Rufus, doesn’t flinch when Sting talks about addiction and finding a new AA group, and Sting nearly cries with relief.

Natsu drives him all the way across the country – they make a road trip out of it, taking advantage of the few days they have left together. When Natsu eventually has to head back home, Sting’s certain he’s going to fall apart, but Natsu reassures him that he’ll be back to visit in a month, and they manage to say goodbye with only a few tears.

Unpacking and getting settled keeps Sting’s mind busy, and he manages not to think about Uncle Wes until three days before the classes at the academy start.

What if he moved? he texts Natsu as he stares at the map on his phone. Maybe he’s gone. It’s the fourth excuse he’s come up with in less than twenty-four hours, and they’re all starting to wear thin.

Only one way to find out, Natsu replies. Get your ass up there and apologize.

~

Uncle Wes does still live in Saint Portage, in the same home with the bright blue door and a mailbox with the name Eucliffe painted across the side. Sting stares at it from his spot on a bench across the street, and all he can think about is the time he’d kicked it down in a rage before he’d run away. He can’t remember anything else other than he’d yelled at Uncle Wes to—

Sting shakes his head, swallowing down the tears that keep threatening to make an appearance. His cheeks are hot, and he tips his head up, blinking a few times in an unsuccessful attempt to compose himself. Then he looks down at the acceptance letter in his hands that he’s folded and unfolded a thousand times.

It’s not enough, Sting thinks, running a hand over his face. Even if Uncle Wes is home, even if he opens the door, Sting has no idea what to say.

I’m sorry for pushing you away.

I’m sorry for calling you names.

I’m sorry for being a stupid, selfish little boy.

I’m sorry for taking advantage of your kindness, for hurting you, for breaking your heart again and again.

“I can’t do this,” he whispers, dropping his head into his hands and running his fingers through his hair. The tears escape despite his best efforts and he watches as they make dark patterns on his jeans.

He’s so goddamn sick of crying. He’s always been emotional, but he used to be better at hiding it. When he was little, he could push the tears away, lock them up where they couldn’t hurt him, where they couldn’t make his dad angry.

Stop being such a baby and look me in the eye when I’m talking to you.

Sting bites down on his lip, shaking away the memories as he wipes at his face. He looks up at the house again, then takes a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet.

Even if Uncle Wes slams the door in his face, Sting has to try. He has to apologize, has to show Uncle Wes that he’s more than just a damaged disaster.

Before he can change his mind, Sting darts across the street, flinching as a car blares its horn at him. When he catches his breath, he runs his fingers over the mailbox, regret swelling in his chest at the memory of splintered wood and furious words.

No matter what horrible things he’d yelled or what he’d broken, Uncle Wes’ response had been the same.

This will always be your home.

Sting tentatively pushes at the gate, and when it swings open, he steps over the cracked flagstone that he always used to trip over. Grass and weeds grow through crevices in the cement, pushing their way up and opening themselves to the sun.

Sting’s feet pull him toward the door, up the re-painted porch stairs, onto the front mat that says welcome home. The doorbell is covered with a sticky note that says bell is broken, yell real loud!, and Sting can’t help but laugh at it.

He reaches up and raps his knuckles softly against the wood.

There’s a disconcerting moment of silence, but Sting forces himself to stay on the porch, staring at a dirty spot just next to the door handle. He can’t leave. He has to do this, even if he’s certain he’s going to be sick.

The quiet is broken by heavy footsteps and a shout of, “Just a moment!” Sting barely has time to process the voice when the door swings open.

Uncle Wes stands there, filling the door like he’d always filled a room, large and bright and friendly. His hair is grayer around the temples and there are more lines by his eyes, but they’re the same bright, clear blue that Sting remembers.

“Sting?” Uncle Wes’ voice is hoarse and uncertain, and Sting’s so overwhelmed that he can’t even answer to his own name. When Uncle Wes reaches out and touches Sting’s cheek, the dam inside him bursts.

“I’m sorry,” Sting whispers, the academy letter crumpling in his hands as he starts to cry. “I’m so sorry, I’m…”

“You’re home.”

Uncle Wes opens the door all the way, grabbing Sting by the shoulders and pulling him into a crushing hug. Sting can’t stop the sobs as he presses his face against Uncle Wes’ shoulder, shoulders shaking while Uncle Wes runs a comforting hand over his back. It’s surreal – the last time he’d hugged Uncle Wes, he’d been small and scared and far too skinny. Now he’s a man, nearly as broad-shouldered as his uncle, but he still feels like a little kid.

“I’m sorry,” Sting sobs. “I fucked up; I was so stupid.”

“It’s okay,” Uncle Wes says, shaking his head as he hugs Sting tighter. “It’s okay, you’re home.”

The words hit Sting hard and a hundred different memories rush through him, leaving him nearly breathless.

Uncle Wes picking him up from the hospital, kissing his forehead, bringing him home, changing his bandages, making him Kraft Dinner with hot dogs because it was his favorite.

Uncle Wes pulling Sting into a hug after the police brought him home, making him tea and honey, never getting angry at Sting for running away.

Uncle Wes listening as Sting told him he was a boy, hugging Sting, telling him that he’d love Sting no matter who he was.

Sting tries to apologize again, but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is another sob. His legs buckle out from under him and he nearly falls under the weight of all his grief, but Uncle Wes just pulls him closer.

“I’m so happy you’re home,” Uncle Wes murmurs, kissing Sting’s temple. “I missed you so much.”

Sting swallows hard, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry,” he manages again through the tears. “I was so fucking stupid and I h-hurt you, and you were always s-so nice to me, and I was awful, I fucked up so b-badly.”

“It’s all right,” Uncle Wes reassures him, but Sting shakes his head.

“It’s not,” he says, pulling back and wiping at his face as he looks up at the bright blue of Uncle Wes’ eyes. “I didn’t—I’m sober now. I quit, I promise, I’m—it’s been two years and I h-haven’t… I got better.”

Tears run down Uncle Wes’ cheeks as he runs his thumb along the scar on Sting’s forehead. “I didn’t know if you were still alive,” he said softly, “or if you’d…” He trails off, shaking his head, and Sting aches with guilt.

“I screwed up,” he says, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. “I was so scared and I h-hated myself.” Uncle Wes’ gaze drops to the scars on Sting’s arms and his cheeks flush with shame. “I wanted to be better, I did, but I was so angry, and I disappointed you, and everyone, and I…” He trails off, then remembers the crumpled letter and holds it out to Uncle Wes with a shaking hand. “I did this right, I… I just wanted to make you proud.”

Uncle Wes doesn’t take the paper, just pulls Sting close and kisses his forehead again. “I’m already proud of you,” he says.

A fresh wave of tears spill down Sting’s cheeks as a mix of confusion and gratitude floods through him. “Why?” he whispers, desperately trying to understand.

“Because I love you,” Uncle Wes says, words rumbling in his chest. “And there’s nothing you could ever do to change that.”  

They stand like that for a long time, crying and holding each other as if the touch could make up for all the missing years. The letter falls from Sting’s hand, forgotten in the sea of emotions, and instead he grips Uncle Wes’ sweater tightly.

Uncle Wes pulls back after a bit and looks like he’s going to say something else when he’s interrupted by a loud meow. A fat, orange tabby cat appears behind him, staring at Sting curiously before approaching him and rubbing against his legs.

“Lector,” Sting breathes, crouching down and running his fingers through the cat’s fur. Everything settles into place, anxious uncertainty melting into something warm and familiar. When Lector mrowls at Sting and headbutts his fingers, the aching places inside him slowly start to fit themselves back together.

He’s finally home, and this time, he’s not going to run away.

[outerspaceisbetterthannothing]

Blame [Surgeon!Calum AU] Ch.3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Summary: What do you do if the only person you feel the connection to is the person you blamed for your sibling’s death?

A/N: This thing came up from my headass asks to wonderful Summer about neonatal surgeon!Calum au, which you can see here and here and here to understand the concept. I didn’t plan to do it at all, but the idea stuck in my mind and with support and encouragement from Summer, I came up with that. This is my first time publishing anything on Tumblr, so the feedback is extremely appreciated. Enjoy

Warnings: much less angst (I promised it’ll get better very soon), couple curse words, lack of proofreading

Chapter 3

The morning was gloomy just like Anna’s mood. She yawned again and switched off the stove, her fried eggs almost ready. She grimaced, moving them to the plate and sitting at the table. She didn’t like fried eggs, but that was basically the last piece of food in her fridge.

She remembered yesterday’s wish to cook something for dinner. Like there was anything to actually cook.

She added grocery shopping to the to-do list she was currently making up in her head and winced at too bitter taste of coffee. She ran out of milk… when exactly? Last week?

Anna wasn’t typically so bad at housekeeping. But last week’s events really messed with her routine. If things had gone differently, she wouldn’t have sat here having breakfast out of the last two eggs from her fridge. She would have been staying at Staten Island with her parents, helping around the house. She’d planned to be back to her flat the very morning of her first classes and purposefully emptied her fridge not really wishing to deal with spoilt leftovers. Now she had to adapt to new circumstances.

She finished her eggs and gave it another thought. It was Thursday morning. She was about to leave to her parents’ the next afternoon and stay at their house for as long as possible. Was it reasonable to go grocery shopping now? Or better fall back into the sinful habit of takeaways?

The very moment she was tossing between those two options, her phone vibrated shortly.

Anna took a deep breath and checked her messages. It was Ally. Anna felt her heart slowing down. Of course it was just Allie and not him.

“Jo’s cooking lasagna tonight, so I thought about grabbing some Thai food. What do u say? Noodles and wine?”

Anna couldn’t help smirking to that. Jo had an Italian Grandma, who she’d never seen in her life. Grandma Falsetti died pretty young, couple years before Jo’s Mom and Dad even met. Nevertheless Jo felt some deep connection to her late Grandma Falsetti. This connection came out in a peculiar idea that Jo had a secret talent to cook true Italian lasagna. How and when that idea settled in Jo’s eccentric mind girls had no idea. But every now and then Jo tried to prove her secret and probably yet sleeping cooking talent. She bought everything the little Italian grocery shop nearby could offer and started another crusade towards her dream dish. It would have been probably an easier task if she’d ever looked up any lasagna recipes. But Jo didn’t believe in online cookbooks and instead had an absolute faith in her spiritual connection to Grandma Falsetti. Allie and Anna never questioned that connection. They learned after the first lasagna dinner that Jo was her own fiercest critic, and every result of her desperate attempts to wake up her Italian roots was eventually thrown away. And every lasagna dinner was easily turned into a pizza dinner. Or Chinese dinner. Today it was Thai. Anna particularly adored lasagna dinners for their optimistic spirit. Jo, being a crazy passionate optimist, was never taken down by her failures in the kitchen and kept repeating that every experience was an experience. At least now she knew several wrong ways to cook lasagna, which only brought her closer to the right one.

Today’s invitation, being welcoming and well-timed on its own, also solved her grocery shopping dilemma.

Annabelle typed back “Sure! Will be there by 8. Wine’s on me” and wanted to switch off the phone but halted, her gaze settled at the contact name of the next dialogue. Her heartbeat picked up its pace again. She opened the tab, scrolled up to the very beginning and started rereading their messages. As if she hadn’t already learned them by heart.

She remember last night’s hesitation and sudden urge to text him. Still hadn’t quite understood what made her do it. And of course the first ever idea of what to type was exactly as silly as all her words said or sent to him so far.

23.46 “What would’ve happened if I’d taken a coffee?”

Even several hours later she still blushed rereading that. Why couldn’t she have started with simple “Hi” or “It’s Anna, sorry to bother”? Why her subconscious was making her look ridiculous?

23.47 “There would’ve been one coffee less on the table in the on-call room”

The speed and simplicity of his answer was calming and exciting at the same time. He stated that just like they were continuing a conversation they’d paused a minute ago and not fifteen hours. It made her almost dizzy. To the point of completely losing her mind judging by her next questions.

23.48 “That easy?”

23.49 “That easy”

23.49 “And nothing more?”

23.50 “And nothing more”

Anna dropped her phone on the table and hid her face in her hands, groaning quietly. Such a dumbass…

She recalled staring at his short unimaginative responses last night for couple minutes. After which she’d remembered about good manners.

23.54 “Sorry for the late night messages”

“Especially so stupid ones,” she thought now.

23.55 “I’ve at least 8 more hours on a shift so not so late night for me”

23.55 “Oh, ok”

The sounds, that were Anna’s reaction to that fine piece of epistolary genre, were hardly human.

23.56 “Working tmrrw too?”

23.57 “No, days off till Sat. Y?”

Anna’s hands started shaking again, almost like last night when she was typing her next message, praying at the same time for an alien invasion which would instantly block all the mobile connection and stop her from finishing her question. Whatever impediment this insane world could offer would actually do, she’d thought, cause she wasn’t able to stop her fingers from typing and feared to death to actually ask him what she was about to ask.

23.59 “Could we maybe meet up? For a coffee or sth? I really need to talk to you”

She still couldn’t believe she wrote about coffee. But as usual realisation came after she pressed send. She’d sat on her bed after that biting her fingers nervously and looking at three little dots showing on his side of the screen.

00.00 “Sure. Fri noon ok?”

Annabelle hadn’t noticed she’d hold her breath till she got that text. She’d gasped for air and almost jumped on her bed.

00.01 “Yeah, totaly”

00.02 “Let’s hold on to that, but i’ll confirm tomorrow evening in case they call me in overnight”

00.02 “Yeah, cool”

00.03 “Goodnight then”

Anna exhaled loudly rereading that last message from him for a thousandth time at least.

Why that simple sign of politeness was raising such sensation in her? Why did she see something more than just politeness behind those two words? And why everything about that man was so damn intense?

***

“It’s all about the right mood,” Jo repeated for the third time, putting her future masterpiece in the oven.

“Whose mood exactly?” mocked her Allie. Jo continued staring into the oven through the thick glass and didn't pay much attention to her friend’s words.

“Yeah, Jo, whose mood?” joined Anna, “A cook’s?”

“Or maybe guest’s?”

“No, no, no, I know! It’s all about the lasagna’s mood!” Anna started giggling, mostly because of her fair share of wine, consumed while Jo was cooking.

Jo smirked, standing up. “You are absolute bitches today, ladies! Congratulations!”

Anna and Allie raised glasses in a joky toast from the opposite side of a kitchen island.

“So, how are your parents?” Allie asked in much more serious tone.

Anna put her glass down and shrugged silently. Jo sent Allie disapproval look.

“You’ve seen my Mom in the hospital. She tries to act normal. But of course it’s hard. It’s hard for everyone,” finally said Anna. “I don’t even know what is worse, the way she acts now, or if she spent all her time alone and crying and mourning.”

“Of course second option is worse, darling,” said Jo softly.

“But shouldn’t you like… go through it. You know, anger, depression, all that stuff. I feel like she’s stuck in her denial phase. What if she’s actually harming herself that way?”

Jo was obviously lost for words. Allie sighed deeply and noted, “Everybody copes their own way. Knowing Jennifer, it’s quite understandable that she doesn’t want other people to see her grief. She’s exactly that type of woman who’d cry for three days and then stand up and go on with her life. She was never the one to dwell.”

Anna nodded, took another sip of her wine. “I get it. And you right. It’s just. I don’t know, I feel like I miss on something. The way they react… We did have time to prepare to any outcome, knowing about Grayson’s heart condition for some time. But… I sometimes feel like they overcame it in like couple hours. I know they actually didn’t, they do grieve. But the fact that they don’t really show it leaves me confused. Because I don’t understand anything. What should I do? Should I cry? Should I be angry? Should I let go and act it like there were no baby at all? I cried with my Mom the very first day, I had my gush of anger. But now…” she shook her head. “I’m literally at a loss. And my emotions are at a verge. One moment I’m completely alright, the next I’m sobbing in the middle of a parking lot. I mean, what is wrong with me?”

“Hey, nothing is wrong with you,” reassured her Jo, while Allie simply hugged Anna and stayed like that. “There is no instruction that will tell you how you should feel. Because there’s no should, Belle. You just feel, the way you do. And if it means crying in the middle of the fucking parking lot, then fine!”

Anna snorted to that, feeling tears in her eyes. “I just feel like a freak.”

“You’re not. You are hurting. It’ll take time. Just give it some time,” almost whispered Allie.

“Guess, you’re right.”

Anna took another sip of her wine and went faster, like she just remembered it. “About Saturday, there’ll be no funeral. Mom wanted cremation. So it’ll be just a little memorial-ish stuff at our house, nothing official at all. Only family and closest friends. Will you come anyway?’

“Of course, darling,” confirmed Allie. “Noon?”

“Yeah.”

They kept silence for some time, drinking and not looking at each other. Then Jo, visibly hesitating, decided to ask. “Belle, is Bryan going to come?”

Allie rolled her eyes to that question and Anna snorted.

“Yes, Jo, I’m sorry to upset you, but Bryan is going to be there. We messaged yesterday and he confirmed, that he won’t leave for school till Monday.”

“Messaged?” Jo asked in slight confusion. “You didn't talk to him?”

Anna shrugged nonchalantly, than added. “Wasn't feeling like talking.” And set her gaze at the wine glass she was twisting in her fingers.

Jo looked at Allie, who shook her head asking Jo to drop the topic. Jo widened her eyes in fake innocence when Anna sighed and gave in. “Say it,” she stated firmly.

“What?” Jo decided to continue acting innocent.

“Whatever you wanted to say. Just say it.”

“I just-” Jo hesitated for a moment, which made Anna look up at her friend in mild surprise. If there was one thing Jo could never be accused of it was hesitation. “Don't you think it's rather odd, Belle? He’s your boyfriend of more than three years and you wasn't feeling like talking to him in the probably darkest moment of you life.”

Anna frowned and looked at Allie. “Do you think it's odd too?”

Allie shook her head finishing her wine. “Can you please keep me out of this conversation?” she said, when realised that her friends’ gazes didn't move from her.

“No?” Anna raised her eyebrows.

Allie rolled her eyes at Jo and looked at her empty glass. “Well, I guess, it is a little odd. I guess if I was in the relationship I would want the guy to take care of me in such moment,” she shrugged. “But everybody's different. And if you feel like being alone, it seems totally fine to me,” she concluded, stressing her last words and looking at Jo again.

“Well, I'm sorry for being so hard-heartedly honest, but it doesn't really seems fine to me,” stated Jo.

A loud sound struck in the settled silence. Anna looked back at the couch where she left her phone. “To tell the truth, Jo, Bryan is definitely the last of my problems right now.”

She stood up and stepped to the couch to check the message. She was intended to keep her face emotionless not to give much away (mostly because there was literally nothing to give away), but she couldn't help her smile when she saw the contact name.

“Still up for that coffee?”

Her fingers started typing before she even thought about her reply. She waited a moment till he sent her an address of a little coffee shop next to the NY public library, switched her screen off, went back to the kitchen island and realised that girls’ gazes were on her all that time.

“What?” she played dumb under Jo’s questioning look.

“Who was that?” Jo obviously had a hard time trying to suppress her curiosity. Anna looked at her, then at Allie, who as usual wasn't giving much away, but was definitely interested too.

“That was…” Anna stumbled. How would she explain all of it?

“Don't say that was nobody!” exclaimed Jo. “I swear, Belle, if you say it was nobody, I'll steal you phone and look.”

Anna was taken aback. “Hey, chill, would you? Why does it even matter?”

“Because you smiled,” quietly said Allie and Anna felt almost betrayed.

“And not just smiled! You smiled your special little smile,” continued Jo as she started to slightly bounce on her tiptoes impatiently.

“Special smile? I don't have any special smiles, what are you even talking about?”

“You do,” noted Allie matter of factly.

“See? Thank you, Allie! Now spill the beans!”

“There's nothing to spill. It was Dr. Hood.” She took a bottle and poured herself more wine, but mostly just to occupy herself with something cause she suddenly felt awkward.

“Dr. Hood?” Jo repeated in disbelief and Allie almost choked on her wine. “Is it that hot doctor we saw staring at you at the hospital?”

“Well, yes,” Anna confirmed, still not risking to look at her friends.

Jo shrieked and spinned throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew it!” she yelled looking at Anna with excitement. “I knew there was something between the two of you!”

“There’s literally nothing between us, I swear,” Anna said holding her hands up in calming gesture.

“Wait, first things first! How did it even happen that you text?” bursted Allie being as excited as Jo, to Anna’s utter bewilderment.

“Well, he gave us his card, you know, just in case, when Mom only got to the hospital,” Anna explained.

Jo gave a whistle. “So it was you who texted first? I can say that I've never been so proud of you, my little Belle!”

Anna sighed and hid her head in her hands. “It’s absolutely not like that, Jo!” she groaned. “Can you not, please?”

“Then just tell us!” begged Jo.

“I shouted at him, okay?” Anna confessed, still hiding her face. Then she took a deep breath, took her hand off of her face and met two shocked stares. “The gush of anger I had,” she started explaining. “It was the very night Grayson died. I'd been hiding in the hospital corridors for some time, needed some privacy to bail my eyes out, you know. And then I decided to come back to my Mom's room and I saw him in a hall. And… it was really awful. I blamed him for everything, said he hadn't saved my brother, that it was his fault. Then started crying again. An absolute mess.”

Anna shook her head on the unwanted memory.

“What did he do?” Allie asked softly.

“Nothing much. He held me the whole time I was crying, ‘s all.”

The room was silent for some time.

“So why did you text him?” finally asked Jo.

Anna looked up at her. “I asked him to meet me. I need to apologize properly for what a horrible person I was to him.”

“Anna,” Allie gasped putting her hand on Anna’s back and stroking her soothingly. “You aren't a horrible person. You were devastated by your loss. What you did is more than understandable.”

Anna chuckled bitterly. “It wasn't actually the only shit thing I did.”

“What?”

“The day you came to visit my Mom, I was sitting on the bench in front of the hospital that morning. I was sitting there every morning before entering, actually. Needed a moment to myself, you know. So he sat next to me and offered coffee he’d bought for me. And I just shoved him off like a total bitch. And he just tried to be friendly.”

“Belle, I'm sure he understands,” tried to reassure her Jo.

“Of course, he does,” Annabelle agreed. “But that's not the point at all. The way I acted, that's not me. I'm not that person and I need him to know it. I can't explain, but I just can't leave it like that. I owe him an apology no matter what reasons I had.”

“When are you meeting?” Jo asked a moment later.

“Tomorrow noon,” she answered as Jo’s oven alarm went off.

Jo bounced again in anticipation and picked potholders. “Finally!” she breathed out, opening the oven.

They understood something was wrong as soon as Jo started cutting it in portions. The dish was basically breaking under her knife with loud crunching. Allie and Anna looked at each other too scared to say a word. Jo groaned, mumbled something about “the fucking fuck” and threw another result of her cooking into her trash bin. Then she looked up at girls and asked, looking tired and pissed, “So, what did you bring today?”

“Thai,” confessed Allie with shy smile. “But we need to heat it up.”

“Well, you know how to use my microwave,” Jo shrugged waving to Anna. “Belle, give me that damn bottle, will you? I need to drink up that disaster.”

Annabelle giggled, handing Jo wine and smiling at the visibly lightening mood. She couldn't help but thought that no matter what was happening in her life, lasagna dinners would always be there to save her from all the troubles. And at that moment she couldn't be more grateful for that.

***

“Are you sure you wanna go today?” her dad asked for at least fourth time. “Traffic’s gonna be awful.”

Anna smiled. “Dad, it's New York, traffic’s gonna be awful no matter when I decide to come.”

He chuckled lightly. “Okay, sweetheart. You gonna stay for the whole weekend?”

“No, actually I was about to stay till Tuesday. I've got first class in the afternoon so I could leave in the morning.”

“You sure?”

“Well, yeah. As long as you okay with me bothering you for so long,” she joked.

“Don't be silly.” Annabelle could see her Dad’s frown right now and smiled wider. “I just thought as it’s your last weekend before school starts you’d want…”

Anna didn't let him finish. “There’s no other place I’d rather be right now, Dad.”

“Sure thing, Anna.”

“I'll text you when I set off, ‘kay? Don't start dinner without me!”

“Can't promise you anything, sweetheart. Your Mom’s cooking curry tonight so…”

“I won't speak to you ever again if you start without me!” she threatened, giggling.

“I'm just saying I wouldn't waste much time for packing if I were you,” Mark teased again.

“I’m leaving right now,” Anna heard her father chuckle again and the sound made her heart shrink. Or maybe it was the sight of a tall man in black shirt and black jeans waiting for her outside of a quite busy coffee shop. Anna felt her hands starting to shake. “Dad, I have to go, but I'll text you later.”

“Okay, darling. I love you.”

“Love you too. See you tonight,” Anna mumbled and finished her call.

That very moment he saw her and put his phone he was scrolling through while waiting in the pocket of his jeans.

Anna felt her heart setting off in a running pace. Say Hi or Hello? Smile or better not? What was more appropriate in conversation with a man she’d accused of the most horrible things?

“I thought of buying us coffee, but realised you’ve never actually told me,” he said with a ghost of a smile on his lips, saving her from struggling with her first words.

“Never told you what?” Anna felt lost at this.

“What coffee you prefer,” he explained and let smile touch his face finally.

Anna widened her eyes half because of the fact that she didn't understand that herself, half because he wanted to buy her coffee even after she shoved him off the last time he did. “Er, cappuccino would be fine, but you don't have to buy me coffee,” she shook her head frowning a little.

He shrugged and stepped into the coffee shop without sparing her another word. Anna followed him just to see the barista noticing him and raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“I was right,” told him Dr. Hood leaving Anna even more at a loss.

The barista guy smirked and handed him two coffee cups, giving Anna an examining look.

Dr. Hood turned back to Anna and gestured her to go back to the street.

“There are tables in the park across the street,” he showed her. “We can sit there and talk. And here's your cappuccino,” he handed her a cup and stepped towards the said park.

“So you did buy me coffee,” she concluded looking at his back and following him suit.

He shrugged and Anna thought she heard him snort. “It was a lucky shot. You just seemed like a cappuccino type,” he said and looked at her as they entered the park.

“A cappuccino type,” Anna murmured to herself having close to no clue what he was actually talking about. What was a cappuccino type after all?

“Well thanks for the coffee,” she said as they settled at a table next to a big tree and as far away from the walking paths as possible. She noted his lips twitch a little. “And thank you for not commenting on it further,” she sighed, looking away from him.

“Any time,” he answered, took a sip of his coffee and asked, “How have you been?”

Anna shrugged. What could she answer to that? Was she alright? She wasn’t even sure what alright was anymore. She looked back at him, taking slightly aback by the unexpected seriousness in his eyes. She shrugged again and saw his nod of understanding. He wasn’t looking at her with sympathy or pity, wasn’t judgemental or embarrassed by the pain behind that shrug. He just understood. And surprisingly it was exactly what she needed right now.

“So why did you wanna see me?” he asked after another minute of sitting there in silence.

Anna felt tears coming up to her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him, not again. She gathered all the courage she had left in her and breathed out, “Dr. Hood, I-”

“It’s Calum,” he interrupted her with a shy smile.

Anna looked up at him again. “Um, what?”

“My name is Calum,” he repeated, his smile widening. “We’re no longer in doctor-patient relationship. Truth to be told we’ve never actually were. But anyway, call me Calum, please. Dr. Hood still has me a little uncomfortable,” he admitted.

“Oh, okay,” Annabelle mumbled, cursing herself again for the stupid childish answers. “Well, Calum, I just wanted to apologize,” she stated, looking at her hands, started picking on her nail polish out of nervousness. “For the night it all happened and for the Wednesday morning too. I had no right to blame you for what happened, I know you’ve done everything that was possible. And I’m sorry I was a total bitch to you when you just tried to be friendly. And-”

“Hey, don’t,” he stopped her again and suddenly Anna felt his right hand gripping on hers. His hand was hot and soft and so big, with three letters tattooed between his thumb and index finger. He waited till she looked back at him and said softly, “You don’t have to apologize. I totally understand.”

Anna shook her head and leaned back on her chair, her hands are still in his grip. She noticed with her side sight a little girl in pretty pink dress running excitedly around a woman several meters behind Calum and felt tears coming up again. “It doesn’t matter if I had a reason or not. I’m thankful you understand, but I still had no right to act like I did towards you. And I’m so sorry that I did. And I really hope you could forgive me, cause honestly words cannot even start to explain how grateful I am for everything you did.”

Calum smiled again and started with, “Anna, you-” but this time he was interrupted.

Two tiny hands gripped on his left arm and a chubby cheek pressed to his tattooed biceps. Calum turned his look to the little intruder. Annabelle freed her hands from his grip and looked at a little girl in confusion. Pretty pink dress with a flowery print told her it was the same girl she noticed couple minutes ago. The girl was about three, had pretty curls the color of milk chocolate and big blue eyes, which were fixed on Calum’s still slightly surprised face.

“And who is that here?” he chuckled, big smile on his face.

“It’s just me, doctah Cawum,” she replied and giggled, not looking anywhere but at him. “I made a wish I meet you today,” she revealed shyly and giggled again.

“Seems like a real magic to me,” Calum chuckled again, standing up from his chair and bending down to the girl. “Now, I guess I deserve my hug.”

The girl laughed happily, as he lifted her up and spinned couple of times, squeezing her in his massive arms. They stopped and the girl pulled back a little, settling comfortable on his hip. That was exactly when a woman the girl was with came up to them, she looked a little embarrassed and angry.

“Aubrie, how many times do I need to tell you not to run away from me?” she nagged little girl in a rather soft voice.

“But I saw doctah Cawum!” Aubrie stated, like it was totally indulging. The woman snorted, looking at the man holding her little daughter. “Of course you did,” she sighed. “Hello, Calum! And I’m sorry we interrupted you,” she looked apologetically at Anna.

Calum hugged her with his free arm with no hesitation. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m always glad to see you. This is Anna, by the way,” he looked back at Annabelle. Anna smiled at the woman. “And these are Laura and my favourite patient Princess Aubrie,” he introduced them, bouncing Aubrie on his hip.

“I’m not a patient, I’m your friend!” exclaimed Aubrie and hid her face in his neck.

“Oh, I’m so silly! I’m sorry, princess, of course you’re my friend!” he agreed easily and moved his gaze to Laura. “You were at the hospital? How is our little girl?”

“Yeah, we were at the usual checking. Dr. Irwin said she’s absolutely okay. Even approved on dancing classes,” she smiled, stroking Aubries curls.

“Will you come to my concert when I be dancin’ pwincess?” Aubrie asked, pulling away and looking at Calum with eyes full of adoration.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, hugging her again.

“Okay, angel, we have to go,” her mother sighed. “Hug doctor Calum goodbye and let’s go.”

“No, Mama,” whined Aubrie and clung on Calum’s neck with both hands, making him laugh quietly.

“Remember you wanted to buy those beautiful cups for your garden party? If we go now we’ll probably have enough time to do it today,” traded Laura with a mischievous grin.

Her trick obviously worked, as Aubrie let go off Calum’s neck with a sad expression on her face.

“Will you come to my garden party?” she asked him, before letting him put her down.

“Well, if your Mom and Dad are okay with that,” he hold back for a moment.

“Come on, Calum, you know, you are always a welcome guest in our house,” smiled Laura at him.

“I will most definitely come,” Calum promised to the little girl in his arms. “When is it going to be?”

“Next Saturday, at around three,” said Laura, as Aubrie struggled with answering, probably not very good with days and time yet.

“Then I’ll see you there, right, princess?” Calum asked Aubrie, and she nodded excitedly, glowing with happiness.

He hugged Aubrie one more time, they said their goodbyes with Laura, who shared one more smile with Anna, and with that they left.

Calum stood there for a moment more, looking after them, and then sat back down on his chair, shy smile still on his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled, looking at Anna.

“That’s okay,” she smiled back, even though her heart was aching from the sight of a happy little kid. “Did you treat her?”

Callum hummed admittedly.

“Tell me about it,” Anna asked.

Calum frowned, her request took him by surprise.

“Well, Aubrie was one of my first patients after I started operating after couple of years of residency. She was born premature and had a heart condition.”

“Like my brother?”

“Not exactly,” he shook his head, his stare not leaving Anna’s face for a moment. “There was a little problem with her cardiac valve, it’s rather easier than what your brother had. She was operated on the third day after her birth and spent almost four weeks after that in an NICU. She needs regular check ups now. Although her chances of living a healthy life without any other operations are very high.”

“You aren’t the one who checks up on her?” Anna asked, slightly confused.

“No, my job is finished after the first month of their life,” Calum explained. “Then we pass our little patients on to pediatrics. But I do like to follow their progress,” he finished quietly.

Anna nodded, not really knowing what to say to that.

“Why’d you ask?”

She looked straight at Calum and felt a lonely tear fall down her cheek.

“I don’t really know,” she said, wiping a tear with her hand and smiling apologetically. “Just needed some good story, I guess.”

“Hey,” Calum stretched his arm forward and grabbed her hand again, making her shake a little. “There’ll be plenty of them in your life. Just give them some time.”

She smiled back at him and sniffed. She squeezed his hand in silent thank you and offered, “Do you, maybe, wanna walk a little? Of course, if you’re not-”

“I’m not,” he smirked, standing and pulling her up by her hand, “whatever you wanted to say next.”

Anna let him snake his arm around her shoulders and lead up the street. She was dazed by his easiness and by the way her heart felt lighter. She couldn’t even try to explain all the things she felt, too overwhelmed by his presence. But she was absolutely positive about one thing. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with his arm around her shoulders.

Taglist: @dancingonanemptywallet @5saucewho

[magnificent-winged-beast]

40, 14, 10

Woow Thank you anon, I’m glad I received an ask this soon.

40. Why do you make gifs?

Well, at first was just as an experiment. I’m in love with this short format that can capture so much about a single scene, and ever since I’m in tumblr I feel has been used to express so many emotions recalling that particular scene.Once I get into deep in the SPN Fandom, I feel like a simple spectator of other people’s work. At the time, I decided to come back to Phothosop, an old tool of my years in College and give it a try. After a long process of learning and experimenting, It has become the tool I use to cope with stressful times, and a way to give back to this fandom, as well as an excuse to spent hours editing Misha’s/Cas's perfect face.

14. How long does it usually take you to make a set?

Oh Chuck, this is embarrassing.My first excuse was that I had an old PC, from like 3 generations ago. And I spent like 1  hours making a complete, minimum 8 frames, Gifset. Plus, my capturing techniques were ancient so it was a very long process.

Later, I learned new things and briefed the among of time of capturing, etc. And I was able to use just 40 min. tops, still in the old PC. But as love to do with everything, like in answering ask I complicate things, so I decided to add an extra detail to my edits. Specifically for Misha’s eyes. Even with a new powerful computer, a 40 frame single gif can take like 5 min to “produce” frame by frame. So now, it’s like at least 20 min for a full 10 frames Gifset.

10. What was the first gif you ever posted?

On this Blog? ◔_◔

Ok, here is the thing. I had another forgotten blog were I use to post about Hannibal, Sherlock, and Supernatural.So your question made me thing back then instead of my work here, and because I’m free and you were so kind to ask. I will show you both:

The first gif I ever made and posted: (This is from Hannibal)

The first gif I made and posted for this Blog:

BONUS: The first gif I made and posted of Cas:

of Misha:

ASK ME: Questions for gif-makers.

[daddysgrrl830]

My OCD hates my Anxiety

So, because no one I know in real life sees my tumblr, and I’m really tired of trying to vent to looks of pity like I’m trying my hardest to function most days, I’m venting here.

In October I was officially diagnosed with social and general anxiety disorder, a panic disorder, and Severe OCD. Which is ridiculously validating considering I’ve been trying to get someone to believe me that my brain was trying to wage war on its self since I was 5. However, combine that with life trauma over the last 26 years, and you get a brain that just really wants to disassociate all the time. Instead, what happens is you have to be an adult and function at work and as a new stepmom to a 13 year old and a new wife in a job where you work with all your in-laws (seriously, I do not recommend). So my OCD brain decided to cope with all this by regressing back into the self harm habits I picked up as a teenager and by making me and everyone around me crazy by having me clean everything until my fingers bled around my nails and anytime I stopped, giving me 2 hour long panic attacks. (Fun for no one). My Anxiety brain decided to combat all that excitement by just sort of short circuiting and made me snappy and angry and emotional all the damn time (Again, fun for no one) and making sure that I disassociated during the panic attacks. Cut to the last 2 months after I broke down and went to both a therapist and a psychiatrist to get some sort of help, I got put on too much medication too fast and got worse instead of better. (Yay). So the last 2 weeks have been spent in a weird combination of fixing meds and learning that I’m outsourcing my self harm issues onto my husband during panic attacks and need a trauma based therapy regimen, along with trying to help our 13 year old fight the battle to stay with us full time instead of bouncing between here and his moms every week. Needless to say, I’m so damn tired of fighting everything and I’d really like to sleep for the next 5 years. But since that’s not gonna happen, I’ll settle for better medicine levels, lots of coffee, husband hugs, and hearing my kid tell me he wishes I was his mom more than he wants his own.

[princessvicky01]

Brother knows best

Part 6 of Happily Ever After- my self indulgent Annabel x Cullen epilogue, because they deserved one! 

This part is SFW with angst and lots of comfort feels as everyone adjusts to the big news revealed, also features cameo by @inner-muse oc Kelandris. You can read it all on AO3 here or on tumblr Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - hope you enjoy!

-

Brother knows best

“You are allowed to touch my tummy you know,” Annabel cracks one eye open against the growing light to peer at her husband. “It’s not like you’re going to break the baby somehow,” spying the warm wonderment Cullen wears she blinks the remaining sleep away to instead try and focus on the liquid amber of his eyes which dart up from staring at her stomach.

“Yes, right, I know… but still, you’re sure?” Those honey glazed ambers peer up at her from under a mop of wheaten curls that’s fallen limply over his forehead, and she can’t help but feel like the luckiest woman alive. Silly, handsome, man.

“Yes, Cullen, I’m sure,” she nestles her cheek back into the pillow with a serene little smile. The room is filled with the pink hue of breaking dawn which tells her it’s far too early to rise, although it does make her wonder if he’s even slept at all since hearing the news.

The mattress shifts and tender fingers run over the small mound of her tummy, she hisses and jerks from him, and his hand withdraws like he’s touched hot coals.

“Maker’s breath! I- Annabel, are you-“

Her giggle breaks off the panic in his voice, and when she opens her bleary eyes, she finds him caught in some kind of mixed state of concern, confusion and chagrin.

“I’m joking!” she flashes the same beaming smile which has gotten her both into and out of countless mischiefs before. “In what way could you ever possibly hurt either of with a feather-light touch? Scratch that, in what way could you ever hurt us, period." Propping up on her elbow she gives a mildly exasperated shake of her head. 

"How about you save your worrying for the bigger things, ok?” She goes to reach out and brush the dusting of curls from his forehead but promptly discovers only a stump. She still expects it to be there, her hand, and can’t believe just how much she’d taken it for granted. The reminder that she’s now much less than she once was is able to fowl her mood like very few other things could. ”Like how I’m going to cope with one arm to start…” she grumbles with a passing glare at the end of the limb before flopping back down into the sheets.

“You’ll be brilliant,” Cullen’s tone is warm but rough, riddled with sleep and a whole host of loving emotions that she knows he’ll never likely be able to put into words. “You have the gem, and the false hands, you've been doing amazing," the bed dips slightly as he shifts closer, wrapping one leg over hers. "You'll find a way, you always do… Besides, I'm here, I always be here,” now his hand does rest on her stomach, and she sighs heavily.

Reassuring as his words are they don’t quite shake the feeling that she’s not ready, that she’ll never be ready. How was she supposed to change the babe when she couldn’t even do up her own buttons? The prosthetic hand was becoming easier to use, but it still would never match the natural dexterity or strength of the real thing.

“What if I can’t do it?” It’s a whisper, she makes with her eyes closed. Speaking aloud that tiny voice of doubt that has seeped in, that has soiled everything since she lost her limb, since she'd found out about the baby. “If I’m not ready… You know how emotional I get, how angry... What if I can't cope?” Another shift in the mattress and she feels his callous palm brush over her cheek, enticing her eyes open with the soft drag of his thumb.

“You can, I know you can,” Cullen nods, his eyes as earnest and devoted as she’s ever seen them. “I have many concerns; getting you home safely, the birth, making Skyhold infant proof. Then there’s the threat of kidnap, the cold in the mountains, the sicknesses that spread through barracks. And how I should pick it up when it cries? How do I know when it’s hungry? How am I to manage work and nappy changes? The list almost never ends. But one thing that never has, and never will worry me, is how you’ll cope. You’ll be a brilliant mother.”

Tears start to itch the back of her throat, and she nods, letting one spill over and down her cheek, only for him to place a kiss in the wake of its trail. Nuzzling against his jaws they share a kiss, tender and true, and the dark thoughts are chased away by his warm lips against hers, the slow slide of his tongue and the embracing hug of his arm as it hugs around her waist.

“And you’ll be a brilliant father…” she breathes against his lips, nose lifting to nudge against his before letting her eyes flutter closed once more. "Of that, I have no doubt."

“We should arrange to have you seen by the midwife, make sure you’re as well prepared as possible… I’ll look into sourcing a cot, a nanny, and all the things Maker only knows a baby must require…” Bryan is already scribbling out a list, his thoughts spilling too fast and furious to stay in his head. This is amazing news, incredible in fact, but also distinctly terrifying, and his mind has already worked out a dozen ways for things to turn disastrous. His aunt and his uncles had been quite significant in his life, trying to fill in the gaping holes his parents had left, and while he has no doubt that they'll make wonderful parents, he still wants to help any way he can.

“A nanny?” Cullen brows furrow across the table at him, his arms crossing, a tell-tale defensive sign which Bryan notes with a brief glance before continuing his list.

“Yes, a nanny, to help raise the child,” he’s already moved on to thinking about the crib and wondering where best to find the best advice on newborns. “I’ve heard-“

“No,” Cullen cuts across in the kind of stern tone all strong military commanders possess. “We shall not require a nanny, we shall raise the child, ourselves, besides there will be plenty of help at Skyhold.“

The quill in his hand stops what it’s doing, and Bryan takes a moment to gather himself, cracking his neck before he straightens. This child will be his niece or nephew, and Annabel is the closest family he has. To that extent, he knows her well, and while he knows she will be a warm, caring, fantastic mother, he is also not so naïve as to believe she won’t need some support. Support, which he fully intends to give, and he can hardly provide it with hundreds of miles between them.

He knows he can’t keep her here forever, she has moved on with her life, but he can at least help her through those first few days, weeks, or months even. Keep them both safe. Besides only a fool would take a pregnant first-time mother to be on such a long treacherous journey over the waking sea and miles of wild Fereldan countryside. “Yes, but what about when the babe first arrives here and is screaming through the night? What you do in Skyhold is up to you, but I shall not be kept awake all hours by a screaming-“

“Hang on,” Cullen’s palms come to rest firmly against the table with the hefty rustle of steel from his armour as his face twitches with a scowl. “What do you mean ‘when we get to Skyhold’? We are leaving, at once. The baby should be born at home.”

“And is no one going to ask for my opinion?” Annabel quips, one eyebrow and hand raised from her spot beside her husband.

Bryan barely registers her interruption, too focused on the stubborn man opposite and the challenge he represents. “The baby should be born here, Annabel should not have to endure months on the road. Besides this is the child’s ancestral home, countless Trevelyan’s have been born and raised under this roof, including-“

“This baby," snarks Cullen. "Our baby, is a Rutherford.”

Now its Bryans turn to scowl. To honestly think a commoner’s start to life is superior to the likes of what he has to offer here is absurd. “No offence,” he glowers. “But my niece or nephew should at least be born into the comforts of nobility, not on a Fereldan farm in the backend of nowhere.”

“No offence!” Cullen’s sharp tone and snarl slam through the air only to hit a wall of ice from the Lord which nothing, not even a lion’s roar could shake. Solid and steadfast Bryan rises to meet the heat of the commander’s glare with one of icy blue fire. He would not be intimidated and he certainly won’t allow a man he barely knows to make such life-changing decisions for his sister.

“Again, is no one going to ask me?” all playfulness to Annabel's tone is now evidently gone, apparently swallowed by the growing tension in the room which lifts even Kelandris to her feet beside him.

“The plan remains the same,” Annabel’s eyes narrow, her voice firm and authoritative. “As this baby is growing inside me, I’m the one who gets to decide. And I’ve decided our current plans are to remain the same. We’ll cross back to Fereldan, visit Cullen’s family in Honnleath then travel back to Skyhold, just all a bit earlier than we originally planned.”

“What!?” Both men twist to face her with expressions that scream as if she had just announced a most unholy blasphemy.

“I don’t see why things have to change just because I’m pregnant,” folding her arms, she also lifts her chin as any proper noble would. “I’ve been waiting two years to meet your family, my family. I’m not about to miss this chance. Once the baby arrives, we won’t be going aware for ages. So, no, I’m sorry, but that’s final.”

“Being pregnant changes everything, you should be resting,” Cullen steps towards her, hands outstretched in a silent plea.

“Yes, I agree with the commander,” Bryan nods. “You should be resting. Here, with all the comforts you require,” the quip receives an over the shoulder growl from Cullen but no rebuke.

“No,” she steps away from them both, genuine anger appearing to grow from the annoyance in the flicker of embers in her eyes. “It will only take a few weeks more travelling. I’ve spent years travelling, I’m quite accustomed to it. I do not need wrapping up in cotton wool or being waited on hand and foot. I’m the Inquisitor damn it!”

“Which is why you should be at Skyhold,“ Cullen implores with a softness to his tone which is overruled by a growl opposite.

“Which is precisely why she should remain here!” Bryan can’t keep his voice in check any longer, the debate is getting truly ridiculous. He senses Kelandris shift closer as he struggles to hold onto his control.

Had the damn Inquisition not done enough? Taking her from her home, her family, almost taking her life several times over, and not content with that taking a damn limb! All his life he’s protected her, kept her safe, be that from stupid childhood accidents or teenage courtly gossip quickly countered. As far as he can see this Inquisition had done nothing but put her in danger. “Let someone else deal with the title and the stress it entails, your priority will be with the child, not the Inquisition, and the further you are from it the better.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Annabel throws her arms up in open hostility,  but he doesn’t waver, standing rigid with absolute conviction. This is a battle he won't lose.

“If I might be the voice of reason?” A far calmer, but no less assertive voice finally makes itself heard as Kelandris steps to Bryan’s side. “How about we have this discussion with the physician and midwife, have them decide the best course of action? They are the experts after all.”

All three shift, tempers still clearly flared and hackles raised, but none seem to be able to find a reason to openly object.

“Fine,” Annabel huffs. “But I’ll not just wait around here-“

“No!” the slam of a fist thunders through the small room as Bryan’s eyes blaze and his lips curl back to reveal a flash of blunt fangs. He won’t see her come to any harm. He simply won’t.  “Damn it. For once in your life, Annabel, will you just listen to me!”

“What’s your problem!?” Her own iris’s flare with a kindred inferno as she snarls with equal ferocity, ignoring the attempting calming hand Cullen places on her shoulder. “You’ve not even seen me for years. I’ve been fighting giant demons, dragons, dark spawn magisters, and all a thousand miles away, how is this more dangerous? Huh!? How Bryan!?”

The outburst has left him panting lightly, unable to control the emotions the pulse through his veins with every pound of his heart in his chest. Lips curling, he snarls at the hostility, at the fear and hopelessness he can fill rising up from his stomach to clench every muscle in his body. He has to make her see.

“Because…” his voice is stern and he quickly trails off, reining back the ferocity with a shake of his head and an exasperated sigh, hands scrubbing at his hair. “Because I know you could fight those things and win. Even then, I still worried myself to death, first the conclave, then the reports about demons, dragons, the fade, bloody Orelsain royalty! Maker's breath it's as if you were trying to give me a heart attack. Then this with your hand… This Inquisition has put you through the void and back, and dragged me along with you, even though I knew you were capable… Knew you could thrive… I couldn't, can't help wanting to protect you, wanting you safe… And childbirth…” he trails off with a wave of his hand as his true fears finally become evident to him, the words choking in his throat. A heavy weight settles around his heart and drags his eyes down with it.

“… even a woman as strong as mother couldn’t survive that…” His voice is quiet now, speaking aloud words he’d rather have kept inside, words that only bring dark and vicious pain closer to the surface. “Perhaps you have forgotten,” he shakes his head and shuffles some papers uselessly in a vain attempt to distract from the crushing pressure in his chest. “But I have not, cannot,” as Kelandris arm rests on his shoulder and squeezes he gives up on the charade and puts the papers down. Emotions buried deep now ripple close to the surface, burning the back of his throat and clenching his chest like a fist curled around his heart. “How do you erase the sight of your mother’s blood-soaked sheets? Of mops smearing bloodied water across the flagstones by your mother’s bedside? Of her skin, so pale and cold to the touch. Of the way she screamed and clenched her teeth? The fear I saw in her eyes, heard in her voice… the weakness I felt as she tried to hold me, tried to tell me it would be ok… Made me promise, made me swear even, to always look after you, to keep you safe,” he shakes his head, dark hair flopping over his eyes as he does so. He hates this, opening up like this, it’s is so alien, and makes him terrifyingly vulnerable, but he hopes against hope it makes her see sense, see how serious this matter really is.

“Annabel… I can’t risk losing you... I especially can’t have that happen a thousand miles away, have you die without my knowing, without being there. To lose you to such pain in some hovel or on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, to have that after we’ve been through so much… when you mean so much… I can’t…” His voice cracks as tears sting his eyes, but he refuses to cry, refuses even to lift his head and look at her, because he knows that’s all it'll take to open the floodgates.

“Oh, Bryan,” Kelandris’s tone and body are warm as they press against his side, both a small distinct comfort amidst the turmoil, not that he can even meet her gaze to tell her such. He can do nothing but keep his hold himself together with what little control that remained. He had looked after Annabel from the moment their mother died, had ensured she had food, a cosy fire, a shoulder to cry on, all while their father dismissed the staff in a drunken stupor. Everyone had just assumed the children would be taken care of. Two young nobles in a fancy castle… but at five and six with no adults, bar a few sparse guards, what were they to do? Even then he had been stubborn, unwilling to admit they needed help. Even at that age he understood the game and knew having everyone see their father, covered in his own vomit passed out amidst empty bottles would ruin him, ruin them.  So, he’d stepped up, and he doesn’t intend to step down now, nor ever.

The next thing he knows he’s tugged, shaking his head he recoils at the invasion, but it’s Annabel, and he knows resistance against her hugs is futile. A hot tear slips down his cheek as she holds him tight and he clenches his face against it, and hugs back. Soon his chin is being lifted, dragged up to find his sister staring at him, with eyes like his own, only far softer, far warmer.

He can’t believe he’s fallen apart like this. A man in his position could not afford such weaknesses, and yet, he can’t bring himself to detach from that ancient pain, that promise. It seems that the oldest scars ran the deepest, especially when etched in blood.

“You’re not going to lose me like that, ok?” Annabel’s soft but stern message reaches him, and he wishes he could believe her, but he’d learnt the world was a cruel place long ago, back when his mother screams had echoed in his chambers.

“You can’t know that, not for certain,” he murmurs with a shake of his head, blinking more tears away even though it stings his throat to hold them back.

“And you can’t know I’ll have the same complications as mother. Bryan, the team we have at Skyhold, the healers, the mages, are some of the best in Thedas… and you’ve met my personal lion. Cullen will make sure I’m ok. I’m not a little girl you need to rush into defend anymore, remember?”

He can’t deny the man she’d wed seemed capable, protective, loving, all the things he’d wanted for her, but still, he can’t fully hand responsibly over, it’s too much of a momentous task.  Finally, though he nods, wanting the discussion over more than anything else. “I know, but that doesn’t stop me being your big brother or worrying... No matter what happens, whatever decision you make, no matter how stupid, you know I’ll support you. Always have.”

“I know,” she smiles warmly. “I’ll be fine Bryan, and so will the little one,” tears shimmer in her eyes although none have slipped over. “Now don’t get too soppy or I might start crying, and you know how quickly that gets ugly.”

Scoffing a little chuckle as she lets go and pushes her gently from his grasp. “Finally, something we can agree on.” For that, he receives a tap against his arm. Somethings never change.

Cullen isn’t quite sure what to make of it, what to make of this Lord who one moment had been shouting insults in blind fury and the next broken and crumpled the way he’s seen few men do. The way he knows he has in the past when weighed down with burden, pain and regret. It isn’t a pretty sight, and he’d done his best to look away, to afford them some privacy, but the bond between them is so strong he could even feel it hum in the air.

He recalls the night of Haven’s attack when Annabel had stumbled out of the snow, racked by fever she had talked all night, had sought comfort in her delirious state from a ‘Bryan’ and it's now clear they are far closer than he’d realised. It seems that sharing such trauma so young had forged a sibling bond of steel. One he's loathed to come between, but he truly believes Skyhold, being home, is whats best for her.

“I can see your concern, Lord Bryan,” he remarks to fill the silence as Annabel slips back to his side. “But I promise by the Holy Andraste and Maker above; I will devote myself to her, and the child’s care. I will not falter in this task, that I swear.” His tone is serious, solemn, and he hopes to convey the gravity of what he says, of how much he means it, of how nothing has ever mattered more than this. Blinking he straightens a little as Bryan slowly steps around the table towards him, only to be blindsided as the man holds out his hand.

“I know you will,” Bryan nods. “And I’m sorry, for being so harsh, so brash, but she is dear to me, as I can see she is to you. Look after them for me,” with that they share a solid, heartfelt, handshake the kind Cullen had been hoping for all along.

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