#I’m gonna vent in tags but fucking hell

[minnov]

.

[vampirebutterflies]

actually I’m gonna bitch here for a sec like WHY is being disabled so expensive like I have very good healthcare and thank fuck for rebates but !!! still!!!!

main bullshittery bugging me rn though is the absolutely unrelenting fatphobia (and so many layers of ableism) in anything to do with hashimotos

like it is FUCKING infuriating to have this constant rhetoric of “you have hashimotos?? here’s how to stop being so FAT and UGLY! (:” “here’s how to LOSE WEIGHT with hashimotos!!” “15 tips to drop 15 kilos!!!” “got hashimotos? comment HELP ME or dm to get access to my private HASHI WEIGHT LOSS group!!!” “best diets to lose weight with hashimotos!!”

even the ones that sneak this shit into otherwise decent resources you’ll have a good run of beneficial info punctuated by “oh you’re probably balding and ugly and fat but that’s okay!!! we EMBRACE body positivity here!! by bullying you into being skinny and fitting our beauty standards so you can finally love yourself!!!!” “link in bio for my best selling book HASHI HELL TO HEALED HEAVEN: HOW I SAVED MYSELF FROM BEING FAT AND BALDING AND UGLY AND TURNED INTO THE PERFECT THIN BEACHY BABE!” Violence violence violence murder maiming killing arson destruction FUCK

[mars-ipan]

i think i need to go somewhere and scream

[celestialmancer]

⛈️ //

[applestorms]

.

[whorenerdking]

I’m feeling so fucking seen by a stupid fanfic that’s it’s making me feel worse about myself than I already do. anyway I’m gonna go drive my car off a cliff.

[whispering-ways]

• ⪩⪨ ♥︎ love struck ♥︎ ⪩⪨ •

♥︎ summary: you've just come back from a horrible date and your roommate, Midoriya, helps comfort you

♥︎ pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

♥︎ tags: no warnings, just fluff :)

♥︎ notes: hi everyone, hope everyone is having a good day and I hope y'all like this fic! love y'all and thanks for supporting my fics <;3

You close the door to your apartment with a sigh and head to the kitchen. “Yet another piss poor date,” you think to yourself, fatigue settling in your bones. At this point, it was just too tiring. You’d downloaded every single dating app you could think of; you tried your luck on Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, and everything else under the moon. But regardless of how wide a net you cast, you always seemed to pull in the worst fish. It’s not that you hadn’t found anyone attractive or no one had liked you, but every single time you went on a date, it just managed to go sour. 

The first date you’d been on seemed really nice at first, but with the way the guy kept on mentioning that women should be good housewives rather than ‘trying to shoot for the stars’, you knew that pursuing him would go nowhere. The second guy was no better. You’d agreed to go back to his place, just to realize it wasn’t even a place at all; it was his parents’ basement. The third guy? Gross, absolutely gross and that’s all you were going to say. And that led you to today. Today’s date seemed like a shoo-in. 

The guy you were talking to was nice, smart, and sweet and it really looked like he was into you. So when he asked you out on a date to a nearby French restaurant, you were genuinely excited. At the least, it gave you a chance to dress up. But after nearly an hour of waiting, you realized that you’d been stood up. You were so upset thinking about the whole situation that you didn’t even notice your roommate on the couch when you took off your heels.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be home by now. Thought your date would take a little longer than an hour,” Midoriya said, moving to the side and patting the seat next to him, motioning you to sit next to him. Although you didn’t want anyone to see you upset like this, you were so glad to see Midoriya right now. You’d agreed to move in with him about a couple of months ago since you two were already best friends for years. And what you needed the most right now was your best friend and a good and proper vent.

“Yeah I’m fine, just that all my dates keep going terribly and I’m practically un-fucking-loveable or something,” you reply, throwing your purse on the couch and slumping down.

“Ok, no need for sarcasm. What we’re gonna do is you’re gonna sit here and we’re gonna talk it out okay?” Midoriya replies. He gets up to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water before handing it to you. “Now tell me exactly what happened.” 

You take a sip and lean back on the couch, placing the glass to the side. “Well, I went to the restaurant and like I thought it’d be like a nice date, like at least a good time you know? But apparently, I’m a fucking moron or something because I sat there for like 45 minutes waiting for him until the staff had to kick me out because of the long wait times.” Just talking about it made tears well up in your eyes.

“What the hell; did he at least send you a text or anything?” Midoriya asked.

"Oh.. that’s the best fucking part is, I walked out of that restaurant and checked Hinge. I had sent so many messages asking where he was, and guess what? He fucking unmatched me!" you share in disbelief, wiping away the tears with your sleeve. You then grab a pizza roll, attempting to find some comfort in food. "I don't know why this always happens.. I just feel like I'm always going to have terrible luck, it's like I'm cursed. Maybe I'm just delusional and need to accept the fact that I'm unlovable..." you speak sadly, staring blankly.

Midoriya placed his hand on your shoulders, abruptly turning you to face him. Surprised by his sudden movement, you paused in your conversation. "Don't say that about yourself, okay? You are loved by so many people, and you're absolutely loveable. All the guys you've just talked to are just douches, and you deserve so much better than them.” You nod your head and wipe your tears, doing your best to pick yourself up. 

He lets out a sympathetic sigh. “How about I make you some of that spicy ramen you like and we watch a movie together? You relax and I’ll take care of it all,” he suggested. 

You chuckle at the sweet gesture. “Yeah...yeah that sounds really nice actually.” A part of your heart felt a pang of hurt at his actions; although it was a sweet friendly gesture, that’s all it’d end up being. Just a friendly gesture. But you did your best to erase that thought from your head.

Midoriya gets up from the couch to start cooking the ramen and you head to your room to change out of your dress into some more comfortable pajamas. You tie your hair up before heading to the kitchen and sitting on the countertop to watch Midoriya cook. After a moment or two, you pipe up and ask whether he needs any help.

“No, I’m all good; just sit there and look pretty. Besides, it’s just ramen, there’s not much to do with it.”

You blush at the reply, but shrug it off and reply “Well at least I offered.” 

As Midoriya cooks the ramen, you both slip into talking about your lives. Midoriya talked about what an ass his boss was being, which was a great way to distract you from your own problems. The light gossip lifts your heart, and you feel refreshed and ready to tackle the world. Once the ramen is prepared, he scoops two bowls and walks towards the couch, where you follow behind him. You sit down and he walks over to your bedroom. With curiosity, you wondered what he was doing there, but shortly after, he returned with your favorite blanket in hand. 

It warmed your heart how much effort Midoriya put into cheering you up. He momentarily takes away your bowl of ramen, only to spread the blanket across you and return the bowl back to you. You take a bite and immediately melt into the couch; it is just what you need. Midoriya joins you on the couch and hands you the remote to pick out a movie. After flipping through a couple of options, you finally settle on a rom-com that you’d been wanting to see for a while. 

It didn’t long for you both to finish your ramen and from there on out, all you both were focused on was the movie. Or at least, it seemed like that’s what Midoriya was focused on. All you could think about was how close you both were. You didn’t know what compelled you to offer whether he wanted to share your blanket with you, but you were definitely glad that you both were sitting closer together. Your fingertips were barely brushing with his and you could smell the cologne on him. “Pine and just a hint of smoke,” you thought, but you knew thoughts like that were only going to hurt you. After all, you guys were just best friends. 

You try your best to remain focused on the movie, which seems to work fairly well. Not too much longer passes until you and Midoriya begin making comments about the film, which had always been your favorite part of watching movies with him; he always had something out-of-pocket to say about what you two were watching.  The climax of the movie had the hero show up at his crush’s door with a bouquet, ready to ask her out. "See that right there? That's what I want. Some flowers and all that stuff on a date? What wouldn't I give to experience a date like that,” you exclaim with a dreamy expression on your face.

You hear Midoryia laugh, and you turn towards him, confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just funny you say that like you haven’t ever gotten flowers ever,” he replies, focusing back on the movie. 

“That’s because I haven’t,” you mumble quietly, but not quiet enough to slip Midoriya’s earshot. 

He whipped his head around to look at you. “That is genuinely insane, if I could take you out I'd have gotten you flowers for sure, what a damn shame honestly.” You look at him stunned, wondering whether if what he said had registered in his own mind.” Well, you know I mean a girl like you, not you...not that there’s anything bad with you..ugh I’m just fucking it up,” he stammers, his hands flying to cover the rosy blush that now covered his entire face. 

You turn away from him and an awkward silence passes between you both. But there was no way you could just leave it off at that. “So you want to take me out then?”

“No..well I mean yes, I’d be privileged too but...” he trails off before sighing, leaning back into the couch. His hands still cover his face as he says, “I just...in all honesty, I don’t want to take advantage of you being upset right now and I know that you don’t have feelings for me so a date would just complicate things, you know?”

Saying that you were thrown for a loop was an absolute understatement. It took you a moment or two to process what he just said before replying, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it you know. And it’s not like I don’t have feelings for you.”

Midoriya shot up at break-neck speed. “”What?? What do you mean by that??”

“No it’s whatever really, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you say, fiddling around with the corner of the blanket. 

You feel Midoriya's hands gently move over to cover yours, pulling you back to look towards him. His eyes searched for an answer within your own and when you continued to stay silent, he said ”Literally if you don't tell me I'm going to spend all night trying to figure it out and you know I won't with how oblivious I am."

You look down at your interlaced hands and reply, “Well, you know, you’re my best friend and I genuinely enjoy spending time with you. Like I don’t think many people make me genuinely as happy as you do and I have feelings for you. I’ve thought about like being with you, but I like friends with you and  I don’t want to weird you out and push you away.” 

Midoriya lets go of your hands and for a moment, you think that this was the end, he was going to move out and never talk to you again. But before you can even register it, he pulls you into his arms and hugs you tight. He pulls you back and shifts his hands from the small of your back to your face, cupping it. His face has a huge grin plastered all over it. “Weird me out? I didn’t want to weird you out! I love spending time with you and I’ve wanted to go out with you for a long time. You don’t realize what a dream come true this is.”

At first, hearing that shocks yu, but then you start to laugh at how silly the situation is. You hug him back, happy to be on the same page. After you both let go, you smile and a moment passes between you two. It's a bit awkward but you know what you both are so happy that it’s okay. “Is it okay if I kiss you now.”

You’d never seen a man nod quicker in your life. “Yeah, yeah, that would be nice,” he replied, trying to play off his nod. Your hand slips to his cheek and you lean in to kiss him. You feel his smile against your lips, making you absolutely giddy. You pull away from him, your face flushed red. You looked up at Midoriya, whose green eyes shone with admiration. He just looked too cute; you couldn’t help but lean back into pepper kisses all over his face. 

With passion, Midoriya's need to hold you became too overwhelming. He gently eased you into his lap, lifting up both legs so they straddled his. Taking you by surprise, he kissed you repeatedly, as if to convince himself that this was no dream. With every separation of his lips from yours, he seemed more and more content. Breathlessly, he asked, "Is it too early for me to ask you to be my girlfriend?"

“Absolutely not,” you say, snaking your arms around his neck. You pour every drop of affection and joy you had for Midoriya into the kiss. “This is like a dream come true,” you thought.

You two spent the rest of the night, cuddling with each other as you finished the movie. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m so glad that guy flaked on you,” Midoriya said, kissing you softly on the forehead. 

You chuckle, leaning on his shoulder. “I couldn’t agree more.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Somersaults and Stealing Hearts Part 2: Watch Me✨

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast! OFC

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to the lovely @alltheirdamn for beta reading and screaming about them with me 🥰

Summary: While all the other girls gush over Coach Miller, Madison can’t stand him. And when her turn comes on the vault, she gets a little carried away.

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: 18+ only

Tags: Lots of banter, arguing to flirting, dual POV

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The next day is barely tolerable as I stand with my arms crossed firmly against my chest, my right hip cocked out to the side. I let the cool breeze from the vents take the bitter sting away that rushes like a raging waterfall through my sore joints. 

   The slick purple leotard clings to my tanned, burning skin, and my tight blonde ponytail feels like it’s creating an incurable migraine at the back of my skull. I roll my eyes with every insufferable breath Joel breathes, not even caring if he sees how his droning voice affects my sour mood.

   He’s not my coach. He will never be my coach.

   “Listen up, girls,” Joel yells across the room, standing in the middle of the blue mat with a clipboard in one hand and a black ink pen in the other. “I’m gonna have each of you go through your uneven bar and vault routines. We have a lot of cover to ground before regionals, and it’s not that far off.”

   Unbelievable. If he really knew me, he’d know those were my two strongest routines. It’s my floor and balance beam routine that’ve been kicking my ass lately, and I just can’t stick my landings like I need to to qualify for nationals. And the double back salto? Well, that’s another beast entirely that I can’t quite grasp. Coach Carr would know that, but she apparently didn’t include Joel in that conversation. 

   Go fucking figure.

   How the fuck am I supposed to make it without her by my side? 

   Katelyn raises her hand and practically whips it around with no control. 

   Eager much? 

   “Coach Miller, can I go first? I’d love your help with my dismount.” She bats her long lashes, her icy blue eyes practically shining like stars in the night sky, and it makes me want to vomit. 

   “Sure thing, Katelyn. Jus’ head on over to the vault. I’ll be right there,” he assures her, tucking his plastic clipboard under his arm.

   When he turns to head to the back of the room where the long runway and vault lay, I watch the way his broad shoulders flex against the black t-shirt, and I feel sick when he pushes his long fingers through his tousled curls. It irks me that he’s allowed to look that good. Even more so, flames radiate through my chest just thinking that this is his team now. 

   Nuh-uh. I won’t allow it. This isn’t his team. And I’ll make damn sure of it. 

   Coach Carr may have asked me to be nice, but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. 

   Katelyn shines her perfect smile and poses, saluting that she’s about to begin her routine. Joel nods from the corner of the room, standing a few feet from the vault, eyes locked while he waits and watches with bated breath. She wastes no time and takes off, feet striking the mat and running like her life depends on it. 

   I watch the way Joel carefully assesses her movements, ready to move at a moment’s notice if she falls. And I don’t know why, but it annoys the hell out of me. Probably because Katelyn is used to getting what she wants, and she wants Joel. She can have him for all I care. I don’t even want him here. 

   Katelyn completes her handspring double front and nearly eats the blue mat beneath her. Joel quickly steps in and catches her before her body crashes down, and I know she did it on purpose. She’s never messed up that move before. She’s putting on a fake show, and Joel’s her shiny new doll to mess around with. 

   “Whoa, slow it down there. You overturned your twist. Try to focus on your body mechanics next time. You’ll get it,” he encourages with a light pat to her shoulder.

   “Thanks for catching me, Coach. I’ll try again.” She turns away sweetly, walking all the way back to the end of the seafoam floor, swaying her curvy hips and flashing the sparkly sequins on her peach leotard. 

   “Oops, did I get a little too excited with that flip? Maybe I should do it again just so he’ll catch me.” She flips her highlighted hair and pushes past me, smacking straight into the side of my shoulder with enough force that it makes my stance unsteady.

   Narrowing my eyes, I scowl at her and feel hot lava rising in every joint of my boiling body. I keep my mouth shut tight but only because she’s trying to get a rise out of me. And there’s no fucking way I’m getting heated over a bitch trying to steal a man I couldn’t be less interested in. She can have him. I just wish she'd leave me the hell alone. 

   Before I make any rash decisions and decide to turn and smack her straight across her lip gloss coated mouth, Cassie pulls me back to reality and gives me a concerned look. “Don’t mind her. You know she’s only jealous because Coach Miller took notice of you yesterday.” 

   I sigh and try to relax, uncrossing my arms and easing my mind of any unnecessary distractions. I’m here to practice, not to be involved in some petty drama I want no part in. “Yeah, you’re right. I just wish she’d stop, you know?”

   “I know what you mean, but a bitch is a bitch no matter what. So just focus on the task at hand. You’re better than her at everything; that’s never going to change. Just do you, boo,” she smiles, giving me a friendly bump against the hip while her emerald eyes flash over mine.

   “Thanks for doing this with me, Cas. I couldn’t do it alone,” I smile gently, squeezing her hand in mine as I silently thank her again for being an anchor in the cesspool of snakes. 

   “Always got your back, babe,” she finishes.

   The rest of the squad finishes their turns and return to the navy blue colored spring floor, stretching and watching who’s left to do their routines. Suddenly, I realize I’m the last of the girls, and it’s now my turn to go. Picking my head up and gazing all the way down to the end of the mat lights my nerves on fire. Joel is staring at me, large hands on his hips, chocolate-covered eyes scorching mine even from feet away. It feels like a giant spotlight is shining down on me, signaling to act, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed in time, and I want to run far far away from those deep brown eyes. 

   “C’mon now, don’t be shy. Show me what you got.” His deep voice echoes through the large room, booming through my eardrums like a loud bass, and I want to rip the noise from my rushing ears. His curled smirk and playful eyes make my skin boil and my toes tingle like I’m standing on sharp wires. I puff out a cloud of invisible smoke and clench my hands into tight fists. 

   He thinks I’m shy? That’s cute. I’m not the least bit shy. No. I’m a fierce tiger, and I’ll rip my sharp claws straight through that ridiculous smirk. 

   He gives me a teasing smile, and that does it. I snap. Sprinting as fast as I can down the solid floor, I throw all my raging emotions into my swift movements, letting my stinging feet barely hit the mat, blurring the whispering girls on the mat, only focusing on the vault in front of me.

   Throwing my whole body into the roundoff back handspring, my feet catch the springboard for just a second and then I’m flipping defiantly over the smooth edges of the vault table. I chose the Amanar twist, the harder of my moves, wanting to show Joel just who the best is around here. 

   The air whips across my face, my body humming with every second I’m in the air, completing two-and-a-half twists as if this is as easy as walking a straight line on the balance beam. I stick the landing perfectly and salute, my arms stiff and graceful like I just wowed the judges. My hazel eyes slightly narrow when I see his doe eyes widen just a smidge, his mouth parted and a sickening smile curled up across his plush mouth like he’s in awe. I should smile back, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

   A low whistle leaves his lips and he applauds slowly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Nearly flawless, Shining Star.” I hear the snickering and whispers come from behind, but I block them out. The only thing I’m focused on is making Joel’s life a living hell.

   I drop my stiff stance and cross my arms over my shimmery leotard. “I can go harder than that,” I challenge. 

   Joel’s eyebrows raise in attention, and his tongue slowly slides over his bottom lip like he’s closely assessing my movements. “Oh? You think you can land a triple twist?” The way his warm eyes stare into mine makes a hot fire light in my chest, and that fire is pure rage.

   “I know I can.” I pop my hip out and slit my eyes into thin slots, letting him know I’m not playing games. But he wants to play. Oh, yes. He’s intrigued now. A devilish smirk widens over his mouth and his darkening eyes look like they could eat me alive. 

   Look what you fucking did.

   “Yes,” I snarl out. 

   “That’s a pretty risky move there, sweetheart. You sure you can handle it?” He’s toying with me, edging me on to get under my skin, but it’s too late. He’s already there, prodding at my stings like a damn nuisance.  

   “Don’t call me sweetheart,” I spit with venom shooting across the room, hoping it’ll silence Joel’s taunting words. 

   So, he’s learned I like to play games. Well, I can play them better. 

   “You never heard of Southern hospitality, darlin’?” He accentuates the word darlin’, and the widest smirk I’ve ever seen in my life rests on his tanned face. One hand slowly rakes down his patchy scruff, and his eyes sharpen into mine. It makes me nearly stomp my heel into the gym mat to show how extremely irritating and impossible he’s being.

   Sweetheart? Darlin’? Just what the hell is he trying to prove? That he’s charming? He wishes. 

   “Just stop with the Texas nicknames. I get it. You think you’re slick, but you’re not. And for your information, I can handle anything,” I snap, folding my arms back over my chest to show how much he’s driving my patience. 

   “Alright then. Show me,” he demands, flexing his thick arms tighter against the black material of his shirt, his eyes lit with playful fire. “Let me see you land a triple, and maybe I won’t make you repeat it a third time.”

   I flare my nostrils and storm off, mouthing curse words under my breath like that’ll do any good. I forget that my teammates are gawking and staring at me like I just screamed blasphemy inside a holy temple. I ignore the bite of their stares and carry on. It’s just me and Joel right now for all I can see, and I need to teach him just who he’s dealing with.

   My body hums with electricity, lightning guiding my every movement. Maybe I overestimated by trying to outsmart him, but there’s no backing out now. I’ve made my bed; now I have to sleep in it. 

   Joel’s wide smile flashes under the harsh lights, and his deep brown eyes that antagonize me have me ready to blow steam out of my ears. I decide right then that I hate him and his stupid tousled curls. 

   Why did Coach Carr leave me with him?

   Putting my body into full drive mode, I crash like thunder down the mat, running as if I’m getting chased by a stampede of wildebeests. My body flips through the air, the back handspring pushing my muscles into overdrive, and then I jump. Hard. 

   I hold my breath like I’m underwater, body limbs curling and twisting in the air, and I focus on those three simple rotations I need. I start the count and then my vision blurs, closing my eyes so I can feel the intricate movements cycle through me. Still holding my breath, I count and pray that it’s enough.

   One, two, three. My feet land shakily on the slippery mat, my head reeling at the intense motions, but I land it, fortunately.

   Holy shit. I did it!

   His jaw drops open, and I hear him mutter a curse under his breath, clearly impressed that I was telling the truth. 

   I flash him a generous smile and end it with a slight scowl. “Look at that, Coach,” I stammer, imitating his Texas drawl from earlier. “I landed a triple.”

   He shakes his tousled curls and nods his head in disbelief. “So you did, Shining Star. So you did…” His eyes roam over my body, giving me a quick once over and again, he smiles. 

   “Told you I could,” I huff.

   I stand there glaring, challenging him to a duel I just might lose, but I hold my ground steadily.

    As I start to turn away, he stops me with his deep voice that tears through my unsettled mind. “Next time, don’t hold back the first time.”

   My eyes slit like snake eyes, and my head whips back around to him. “I wasn’t holding back.”

   “‘Course you weren’t, sweetheart. Keep bringing that heat to the floor,” he smirks, letting his shoulder brush against mine as he makes his way back to the rest of the squad.

   “Hey,” I snap, making his head turn back around toward me. “Don’t pretend like you know me.”

   He arches an eyebrow and challenges me with his gravelly tone. “Oh, I think I already got a good readin’ on you. Yeah, think I got you figured out jus’ fine,” he chuckles, flicking his dark eyes once more over mine.

   I scoff and dig my heel hard into the mat. “If you really knew me, you’d know that my floor and balance beam routines need the most work. My vault routine is near perfect. But apparently, you don’t know me at all.” 

   He lifts an eyebrow quizzically, letting the gears grind in his jumbled head like he’s trying to figure me out, but I don’t give him the chance. I storm off toward the uneven bars and wait with my arms crossed over my chest, fuming, just wanting to get this day over with. And I feel his eyes burn hot like a match running painfully slow through my body. 

   I’ll show him I’m not a pretty, dainty flower. I’m a tiger, and I’m out for blood. His blood.

   Joel’s POV

   The laptop screen flickers on, the Google tab already pulled up in front of my face. Using the smooth black mouse to control my thick fingers, YouTube is the link I pull up first. I quickly type out the name Madison Summers and instantly, dozens of gymnastics videos pop up on the glowing screen. Clicking on the first one, the video comes to life like a movie.  

   It’s last year’s fall competition in Orlando, Florida. The floor routine. The one she said needed to work on. 

   Sitting back comfortably into the leather office chair with my legs splayed wide, thumb tapping against the mahogany table, I scan and assess like I’m just a viewer in the audience.

   The crowd goes wild when her name is called, chanting her name and clapping like a wave of thunder. She doesn’t even flinch, her hazel eyes bright and alight with a hint of confidence glowing in the fluorescent lights that shine down on her. And when the music comes to life, so does she.

   She takes to the floor like a graceful swan, her movements as smooth as butter. She has an essence about her that screams confidence, her pretty eyes sharp and narrowed each time she flips or performs a split jump. 

   I let my fingertips scratch down my patchy scruff, eyes locked intensely when she takes a deep breath and braces for her big move. I don’t know what’s coming, but I find myself on the edge of my office chair, palms sweating as I wait with bated breath. 

   Why I’m nervous, I don’t know. But I keep my wide eyes glued to the screen, as if I’m there with her, standing on the sidelines cheering her on with clenched fists.

   She snaps, running like a prowling lion, ready to attack a pack of wild gazelles. She has fire in her eyes with every breath she takes, and I can see right there she has a heart of a winner.

   Flipping into her jump, she performs a Double Arabian, building momentum with every twist her body constructs. And when she lands, shakily, she has the crowd standing to their feet, screaming their lungs out as if she’s already won the gold. 

   She’s powerful, nearly flawless, a beautiful lioness that claws her way through the spring floor, daring anyone to take the title away from her. And I see why Coach Carr called her Shining Star now. She’s absolutely sparkling like a thousand galaxies in that room, and she’s got the entire crowd’s eyes locked on her, including mine. 

   I sit there for over an hour glued to the screen, watching every single competition video I can get my hands on. One hand digs into the leather arm, the other anxiously taps away at the side of the sleek mouse. I make little notes in my mind, things she needs to work on and moves that make her stand out amongst the rest of the gymnasts. This girl is a fucking powerhouse, and she’s got immense talent that’ll take her far.

   But there’s one tiny thing I notice. There’s an entire year missing from the videos. No trace of anything but a speck of dust. Coach Carr told me one of the girls had taken a year off, but she didn’t specify who or why. And now all I can wonder is what made this special girl lose an entire year of training? I’ll find out. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but I will figure it out one way or another. Even if I have to rip it out of her stubborn mind. 

   Madison was made to be a champion. I can see it in the way she commands a room, fighting for her chance at the gold. She’s incredible, nothing less. And dare I say, I even think she could make it to the Olympics. I will take her to the Olympics, if only she’ll accept me as her coach. 

   That stunt she pulled in practice today? She obviously hates my guts. The way she talked back to me and made it a statement to show off she could land a triple? Well, if she wants attention then she’s got my full attention now. If she wants to play with fire, I’ll give her the whole damn inferno. 

[ikkosu]

PROWL HEADCANNONS

a/n: prowl on 'how he'd fall for you' headcannons because I’m bored and I love this war criminal to bits. (human gn.reader btw) warnings : just me rambling about prowl. might make part two of this idk.

I feel like prowl wouldn’t be the type to seek out someone; the only reason he’ll fall in love with you ( or in his case, have an illogical, spur of the moment, chemical reaction) is because you’ve been working him long enough to understand how his mind works

you’re gonna have to be the calm type, smart enough to know he’s off his rockers — since you’re going to have to tolerate him, anyway

or dumb enoug you don’t know wtf’s going on half of the time and just,,,supports what he does — he keeps you around for that

either ways, you're only there because the high council needs someone to keep tabs on prowl. in case he gets bored and decides to scheme another conspiracy to overthrow the government

(an exaggerated bias, as he'd say)

dumb is like his emotional support golden retriever, and calm is also the same, except less rowdy and just stares into his soul when he fucks up. But he stares back though and you're not one to give up either (in the end he does)

(Trope dynamics of loud dumb x smart and internally seething calm x smart is what I’m thinking lol)

calm would be someone in the science field or in the medical field, sassy, knows a lot (because if you’re going to lose your shit, it’s likely you’re never going to win an argument against him so = logical sympathetic + done w/ his shit + I stick around bc I care )

and for dumb loud would be someone in his profession, like buddy buddy cop + someone that just tags along because, hey, you like pissing him off

‘in both cases, if he falls for you it’s either because (for internally seething calm) you’ve managed to sooth him down from another temper tantrum or understand how he feels, in a way.

[i]

it’s not his usual tantrum, he’s a lot more emotional today and you’re incredibly concerned. this is prowl of all people! what’s got him so worked up? he's the least logical when he thinks someone's about to betray him

you notice the whispers as you saunter along the halls, everyone passing their remarks about the earlier supposed argument between the autobot SIC and his commander

brother was going off on the walls of his office when you slip in, punching holes, flipping tables — lotsa tables — and datapads were strewn across the floor, stylus pens cluttering about. it’s a barren hell hole. more barren than clemency combined

all this you’re not so interested in, it’s a normal thing, a three to four stage process : you’ll listen as he rants. you’ll nod and slowly, not so subtly in his peripheral, coax him to sit on the couch as you fix up the place.

"His perception of justice is too idealistic!" He chuffs and you'd reply “Oh? Optimus is not taking your advice again? I thought he’s a lot more understanding…”

something like that

today, however,

The moment you slinked inside the room, swiftly locking the door, you're greeted with his back is turned, helm hunching over his taut shoulders

your gaze swivelled from the upturned tables to the mess around and it's only then you notice energon plinking down to the puddle on the floor then energon seeping from the crevices of his fist.

Your eyes find the similar smear on the wall, then to the glass shards of a fractured cup on the floor, glinting

he’s bleeding

your medical instincts take reign, voice soft with concern.

“prowl—“

“don’t touch me.” He reels away.

His vents are shuddering, a staticky sporadic bursts of chuffs. He’s not breathing well, much too fueled by his own anger, his optics dart around the place, unable to focus, jittery and restless.

he paces around the room, servos unable to still

you know that hopeless feeling. The desire to do something , anything, but rooted at the inability to do so purges all instincts

you inch closer, palms up placatingly, treading on a light rake of glass. “It’s alright. Breathe. think about your three senses—"

“I said don’t touch me.’’ his voice is louder, more defensive, the kind you see a lot given you're his partner and the fact not all his propositions weren't taken so well. you can guess that's what happened today, or an altercation he's taken a lot too personally.

"I won't. I just want to see your wound."

"Its nothing. I said leave." his door wings flare up, a prey cornered with no where to go, lashing out as its last primal instinct to survive

pity spools into your chest

"it's alright, prowl. It's just me." you're halfway close and he backs up against the wall. "Let's talk like we always do, hm? Talk to let out some steam. Talk about what happened this morning or we can talk about something else."

"you don't understand." his voice wavers off a little, still having that tinge of sharpness yet it's loosing it's edge. his optics fail to meet yours. It's lodged to your feet. somewhere there. he's never been this vulnerable

"I won't have to understand." You say, and your hand curls experimentally over his own, testing to see if he'd lash out

When he didn't you intertwine you hands with his, easing down the stress of his knuckles. "You don't have to tell me anything. Just let me see your hands. I'll leave after once I fix everything up."

A moment — a beat; he relents.

Or more accurately, he's reeled silent as you tow him to the couch, clutching an ivory medical kit in the other hand.

With his servos on your knee, you work delicately, picking the fractured shards from the crevices of his digits that were lodged deep into the cords

His expression doesn't betray much pain plaguing his face with the usual pinched, dour look as he gazes outside the window. Though, he tenses up when you'd come across a deeper wound

then something hard on your shoulder startled you. You blink when you feel the crook of his nose nestle your shoulder blades. he's never been this affectionate and while you prefer to assault him with all kinds of question, you chose not to

It's like handling a startled cat; you're afraid of overwhelming him in case he'd draw back again. So you follow along, leaning a bit back so he's neck is comfortable with the bend.

The white bandages were purged a purple mauve when you roll the fabric around his digits, tying the loose ends with a dainty little bow.

You fix up the kit, his head still on your shoulder and you were about to leave when something grasps your sleeves. It's a tight clutch, digits curling around the fabric.

Prowl's now staring at the ground, any emotion on his face is imperceptible. Later punctuated by a remark, soft yet demanding, he uttered :

"stay."

[olderthannetfic]

I kinda understand “minors don’t interact” and similar things, but one thing I always laugh at is “don’t tag as [thing].” You know — the whole don’t tag posts with the word queer in them as q slur, don’t tag not-inherently-shippy art as ship, don’t tag character posts as kin, etc. First of all, what would you do if someone DOES tag it like that? Call the cops? Second of all, people are gonna tag things however they want, you’re gonna have to deal with that on a website like tumblr.

There’s a similar phenomenon on Twitter where people say “don’t quote retweet”/“don’t private quote retweet” (which is especially funny cuz everyone is gonna see that and go on their private accounts and quote retweet with nonsense to piss you off, lmao)

Like if you’re really SO FUCKING SCARED of your gay post being tagged as #q slur, your Death Note edit being tagged as #Lawlight, your fanart being tagged as #kin, you probably shouldn’t be on the internet. Do you have the right to not view queer as a slur, the right to not ship whatever, the right to not like fictionkin? Of course! But people also have the right to disagree with you and tag your post however the fuck they want. One time I saw someone tag one of my cosplays as [character] faceclaim, and I was a little bit weirded out, but overall it was harmless. I never once considered adding a banner saying not to tag my likeness as a faceclaim, because if I really want to prevent anyone from doing that, the solution will be for me to not show my face online.

Small tangent: When I was younger I used to have a private sideblog that was basically just a venting diary. No one had the password, and, because it was private, my URL wouldn’t show up in the notes if I reblogged something to that blog. Basically, no one knew the blog existed. And I remember sometimes I would see a cool post on my dash, or in tags, and it would be tagged as #dont reblog (this was before tumblr had the option to limit reblogs obviously). And if the post was cool (or edgy, because like I said… vent blog) and I was sad that I “couldn’t” reblog it, I’d reblog it to the side blog, where OP would never know 😭 Rebellious as hell wasn’t I?

That being said — and this might contradict everything I just wrote — I do think people that brag about not reading/not following DNIs are also a bit obnoxious. Not people who just make statements that they don’t read them, but people who make it known how much they hate their existence. It just seems kinda edgelord-y? Idk. Obviously it’s fine to not read them or like them but making it a huge statement is just like…ok? Congratulations? Should we throw you a party? Should we invite Elon Musk?

I have followers—and follow people—who have “Antis DNI” in their bio. I also have followers and follow people who have “Proshippers DNI” in their bio. No one will ever know what side I’m on 😜😜😜😜

--

[one-winged-dreams]

Hpnotiq

ship: every dog has his day (cygnus x gallagher) source: honkai star rail word count: 1449 cw: inebriation

i don't even know, call this a pseudo vent fic ig i really wanted to write about him ;_;

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @kylilah @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city

@goldenworldsabound @dear-gambler @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitosoulmate @faerie-circle-ships

Visits to the bar were always low-key. It wouldn't do for someone of Cygnus's status to be seen getting publically plastered, Maria would raise hell if she had to deal with the media repercussions that would inevitably come from such a thing.

Much like everything else in Penacony, drinking was a gamble. The appropriate term would be ‘lightweight’. 

Misery begets escapism, and libations were the dream within the dream. 

“Think you’ve had a bit much, doll.”

Gallagher’s forearms rested against the bar, a blatant disregard for how the damn thing had just been wiped down. Concerned was a description for his expression, but he wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t just a little bit amused. 

“Nooo. No no no, I’m… It’s fine. Can I have a shot this time? Want a Hpnotiq Breeze, pleeease?” Cygnus’s eyes were already hazy. His words were already rubbing elbows with each other, but Aeons, he was so fucking loose right now it wasn’t NOT funny. 

Gallagher’s head dipped down with a fond sigh before fixing Cygnus with a squint. 

“Don’t think you need any more Hpnotiq tonight, sweetheart. Gonna be seein’ blue if I give you any more. Why don’t you call it quits for the night, yeah?” 

“Nooo! I’m good, I’m- HCC, ‘scuse me, I’m okay, just one more shot?” Cygnus whined, lashes fluttering like wings trying to keep his eyes open all the way.

Shaking his head was the IMMEDIATE response, but Gallagher’s lips pulled into a smirk. Damn damn damn, what a cutie. 

“Not gonna happen, doll.”

“Take one fr’me, then. Come on, come on. Wanna seeya…” Cygnus slurred, his refined, usually sheepish demeanor smashed in the most literal sense. 

“That right?” Gallagher chuckled. “Alright then, just for you.” 

Swift and efficient, prep was nothing. If it sated his pretty little bird, he was gonna do it right.

“That it?” Gallagher held the glass with his thumb and forefinger, tauntingly close, but Cygnus was a sweet little thing, if not a bit captivated by the scenario his addled brain had conceptualized.

“Yeah yeah! Wannasee… All for me?” Cygnus rambled, his words making less and less sense. 

Fuck’s sake, that was a whole different type of ‘celebrity charm’ for Gallagher to handle.

“Yeah, doll. All for you,” he replied, that low tone on par with the way all those prior drinks had made Cygnus all warm and fuzzy. 

Hazy silver eyes went wide as the glass touched Gallagher’s lips, the blue concoction making a warm, pleasant journey down the bartender’s esophagus. Gallagher couldn’t tell which was hotter, the heat of the alcohol, or that gaze burning a hole in his throat.

“Yaaaay!” Cygnus was clapping and giggling like a schoolgirl, swinging his legs on that barstool that could be considered a second home.

Not that he was prone to this level of indulgence.

It wouldn't do for someone of Cygnus's status to be seen getting publically plastered.

“Alright doll, you’ve had your fun. Gonna call your driver and get you home.” Gallagher procured his phone, just a few taps away from his frequent contacts list. He was a gentleman, after all.

“Noooo!” came the immediate protest, cute pink lips pouting and all.

“Noooo?” Gallagher questioned. “Told you, doll, I ain’t giving you any more.”

“YOU take me home.” Cygnus’s reply was a whine that was outright insistent. 

“Me?” Gallagher chuckled with curious amusement. “Why me?”

“B… Big sexy Bloodhoundsecurityofficerrr- Security officer… You can take me home, right? Please take me home, I wanna be with you more,” Cygnus whimpered.

Well, even more than a whimper, it was a plea. Something about the tone didn’t sit right with Gallagher and goddamn, what kind of heartless bastard would keep a cutie like that all sad and lonely?

“Alright, alright. Can you walk okay?”

The way home was a blur to Cygnus, all he could fathom was the warmth of Gallagher’s arm around his shoulder and the occasional interaction directed his way.

“Aren’t you that one actor?” “Ease off, buddy.”

What a damn good guard dog Gallagher was. 

Without much more fanfare, Cygnus was lowered to the couch with the same finesse as how Gallagher would pour a drink. Gotta be careful with the merchandise, valuable as this one was. 

“Alright doll, you all settled? Not gonna have to toss you in bed, am I?” 

“Nuh-uh… ‘m oookay,” Cygnus feebly reassured, circling his thumb and index finger.

“You sure? Don’t wanna leave you here if you’re just gonna pass out, if you wanna sleep I’ll carry you to bed.” Gallagher crossed his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow with a good amount of skepticism. He knew plastered when he saw it, and he was certainly seeing it.

“Then don’t go…” Cygnus spoke in a voice that was softer, less belligerent than he’d been all night. Drastic as a turn it was, Gallagher didn’t need to be told twice that something was up.

He took a seat next to the pitiful form lying on the couch, hair splayed out like he could have been Halovian. “Something the matter, doll?”

His concern afforded him only silence as a reply, a bit unfair but when did anyone in Penacony ever play fair?

“Gotta talk to me if you want something, sweetheart, need to use your words,” Gallagher gave Cygnus’s shoulder a little shake. “Can’t fall asleep on me after droppin’ something like that.”

He felt the tremors under his hand then, the feeling of jackassery descending upon him instantly.

Fuck.

“You cryin’, doll?” He gave another small shake, biting his inner cheek as an inappropriately placed curse rose in his throat like bile. He wasn’t good at this shit, not at all. It was unfair to both of them how unattuned to genuine sympathy he was, really. Couldn’t really fault himself, but damn did it sting when he saw his little vice cry.

“I don’t think I’m real,” the little crystal bell of a voice whimpered from the cushions.

Aw fuck.

“Whatdya mean, doll? Talk to me,” Gallagher coaxed, settling in for the long haul as he transferred that pretty little head to his lap. And oh how willingly Cygnus came, how willingly people were to be comforted by the ones that they loved so dearly. 

And oh how dearly he… felt the same.

“Feel like I’m some shallow projection of someone else’s dreams and desires,” Cygnus sniffled, and Gallagher felt hot wet pinpricks of moisture blossom on the fabric of his pants. “’m scared I’m part of some dream that’ll just dissipate when someone wakes up.”

A pause.

“Well hell, doll, do you think I’m real?” Gallagher managed to regurgitate his signature lie.

More bile.

Another pause.

Gallagher sighed.

“You’re you, Cygnus. I promise. You trust me, don’t you?” That Hpnotiq Breeze felt like it was going to make a comeback. Something burned in his gut, in his chest, and then spilled out from his lips; “I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that.”

“I know… I know. Don’t actually believe myself when I think these things, just… Feels like that. Don’t know if I’m happy living like this. ‘r if I e-ever was…” Cygnus mumbled, curling in on himself like he could tuck himself under wings that weren’t there, clipped by circumstance.

Gallagher’s hand hovered over a shoulder that vibrated with silent tremors, sighing to himself.

His little bird was feeling the ache of a cage he was beginning to outgrow. And even though Cygnus couldn’t see those bars, for Gallagher, they were clear as day.

“‘fraid I can’t answer that one for you, doll.”

No amount of gentleness could keep the walls from crumbling, or maybe it was ONLY that delicate touch that could break them down. As soon as his hand settled, the contact sent a shockwave of pain that no harsh strike could ever recreate. 

Gallagher had seen Cygnus cry on stage, he sometimes marveled over how a person could crank out tears as hard as a script could even demand. But no one was demanding anything now. Ugly sobbing, and not in the beautiful theatric way that was tailored to play at people’s emotions. Those were to get the audience invested in the story, these were for no one to see. 

Well no, maybe that wasn’t right. Maybe this was all part of some bigger stage play. Unpracticed, no auditions, no dress rehearsals. Cygnus was the lead, and Gallagher was simultaneously the plot and the audience, the co-star and the extras, the props, and maybe one day he’d be the curtain too, but there was currently no script to tell him what would happen. And he was fine with that.

He liked to think he was pretty good at improv.

[bioticbooty]

Snippet Sunday Wednesday

Tagged by @swaps55 like two weeks ago but my life is a chaos fire!

Since it's not actually Sunday anymore, I'm future tagging @ad-astra13, @cr-noble-writes, @elaadens, and anyone else who wants to have an excuse to post immediately come Sunday morning.

From The Great Rewrite of Crosshairs

---

Ashley blindly sprays bullets behind her as she runs, hoping to god her shields hold till she finds cover.

Everything went to shit over the god forsaken dig-site with the old Prothean beacon. At least, that’s what she thinks she heard the LT, god bless his unlucky soul, call it. She’s not a scientist, she’s a marine.

Right now, she’s a royally screwed marine.

She slams into a rock and rolls behind it for cover, praying to god that the heat sink on her gun cycles in time to lay down cover fire. Her HUD is haywire, Henrick is also dead so there’s no getting her HUD fixed, and it’s just her and what seems like an entire fucking platoon of geth come to wreck shit up on Eden Prime for an old rock. Right now, she fucking hates scientists.

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs as the vents on her gun continue to cycle.

She’s long since run out of grenades.

She hasn’t crapped her heat sink like this since Basic.

Her gun finally cycles, but before she can even swing out to shoot, the sharp crack of a sniper rifle sings through the canyon and Ashley whoops for joy. The geth that had been honing in her rock is dead on the ground, though Ashley puts a bullet in the head for good measure, just as the sniper rifle sings again.

Another geth near her position collapses and a third geth is enveloped in a shimmering field before being unceremoniously hurled over the edge of the cliff.

Between her rifle and the unseen helpers, they make short work of the remaining geth. Sabotage mines, more biotics, and even more cracks of the sniper. The cavalry has arrived!

Two marines file out of the canyon, and Ashley glances behind them to look for the stragglers, but there aren’t any. She’s completely thrown when she returns her gaze back to the two marines and realizes Commander Fucking Shepard, War Hero of the Blitz, is the one in the lead. Fucking Alliance gold standard. And now she’s standing there right in front of Ashley, with a biotic marine watching her flank like nothing’s gonna get past him alive. Considering the pyrotechnic display, Ashley rather believes the marine — the Lieutenant — will put a bullet or a biotic punch in whatever tries to get past him. Nothing’s gonna touch the Commander’s six on his watch.

“Thank you, Commander,” Ashley says by way of greeting. “You pulled my ass out of the fire. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212.” She glances at the LT again, then salutes the Commander. “Or what’s left of it.”

Shepard dismisses her salute with a casual wave. “Are you wounded, Williams?”

“A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious,” she says, and realizes she’s touching the blood on her armor by the way the LT is looking at her. She drops her hands. The blood isn’t hers. “The others… weren’t so lucky.”

“I’m Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko,” the LT says, “let’s get you checked out just in case.”

Ashley nods and let’s the Lieutenant do his thing. Biotic and a medic. Hell of a six to have.

“Is it just you two?” she asks him while he syncs her hardsuit to his, adding her bio-feeds to his HUD.

Alenko nods, but his lips thin momentarily behind his helmet. “Was three,” he says.

The Commander is nowhere to be seen, so Ashley twists and finds her scouting the perimeter, inspecting the downed geth. The Commander stops when she reaches the bend, and Ashley knows precisely what it is she’s looking at. “Dragon’s teeth,” she says.

Alenko looks up at her from his omni-tool. “What?”

Ashley jerks her head towards Shepard. “The Commander just saw the Dragon’s Teeth.”

Alenko will see them soon enough, too. Ashley’s seen too many. And it’s only been two hours since everything began. Two hours ago, she had a unit. Now the whole area’s choked with death and gunfire and Dragon’s Teeth mutilating their dead.

“You’re good, Gunny.”

“Hmm,” she says. “Don’t feel good.”

“No,” Alenko replies after a moment, “nobody would.”

[zonotrichia-albicollis]

Giant personal vent time

This guy stole somewhere between 3 to 6 MILLION dollars from my grandmother by conning my great aunt into signing over her estate and medical & financial power of attorney to him literally on her death bed

I and my aunt have been working basically a whole second job the last 3 months trying to get together a legal case to go after this guy. And now my grandma wants to drop it. And no one else has standing so what the fuck can we do.

This man has absolutely done this to other ppl before, there is no doubt in my mind. I’ve seen his property records for just what’s publicly available in my county and it’s sketchy as hell. I am never going to get over this but there’s nothing I can do.

Gonna put like a million more thoughts in the tags because I’m losing my fucking mind.

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Find the Vibe Tag Game!

My vibe was "Go ahead, make me," and I was tagged by @xansmenagerie a small eternity ago. I don't know why it won't let me tag you but if you see this thanks!! This is from Blue like don't forget about me and I just wrote it last night so kindly look away from all the typos I can't see yet.

Teddy scrubs his hands against his thighs, then stuffs them in his armpits as his breath fogs in front of him. The moon is a faint crescent and the stars are washed out by the city lights but the wind is strong here on the pier and that’s all that matters tonight.

“That one.” He jerks his chin at a large rock sucked deep into the mud. “As far as you can.”

“I can’t pick that up.”

“Try.”

Nash turns to face him with flashing eyes and teeth bared. “When are y’all gonna tire on givin’ me orders. I am goddamn sick—,”

“That’s perfect. Hang onto that and throw the fucking rock.”

“Go to hell.”

“Excellent. Now, the rock.”

“How ‘bout I throw you instead?”

Teddy ticks his head. He’s not a great swimmer but he could probably—

“Lord, I ain’t throwin’ you out there. Quit with that look.”

Teddy shrugs. “Whatever, man. It’s your choice: me or the rock.”

“Oh do I get choices now?”

“Just this once.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. The fire in Nash’s expression wavers and then snuffs out. Gone. Like smoke. Instead of embracing his anger and venting it like Teddy wanted, Nash folds his arms atop the railing and shifts his weight to his good hip. The river crashes against the legs of the pier and slops up near their feet.

“When’s this gonna be over, Ted? I’m tired. I wanna go—,” He bites down on the end of his sentence and drops his chin atop his arms. He sighs. “Never mind.”

Teddy steps up onto the lower rung of the railing and peers down at the dark rush of water below. “It ends when we end it. There’s no other way around it. You know that.”

“Yeah.” He burrows deeper into the knit sweater he “borrowed” from the apartment. “I know.”

Teddy plays with his bracers. They feel natural on his wrists now. He never takes them off except to shower. He feels oddly light without them.

Tink tink tink— he builds up a charge and feels the energy build inside of him. He channels it, corrals it down into his hand and then into his finger until it’s a hot throbbing ball at the very end of his pointer finger. He points it at a buoy in the distance and says, “Pew.”

It disrupts the air with a warble as it launches from his finger in a brilliant burst of blue and then smacks into the water just to the left of the buoy.

“Someone is going to see.”

“Let ‘em.” Tink ,tink, tink. “Why should I hide?”

“Because you’re a criminal? Because powerful people out there want you dead?”

Teddy hums and fires his second shot. Too high, it sails over the top and hits the water with a splash. “I’m a powerful person.”

In silence, he readies his third shot, fires, and curses as it goes wide yet again.

Nash sighs. Then the wind whips around them, stronger and stronger until there’s a wet sucking sound and the rock rips up out of the sand, turns end over end, then rockets into the buoy—a direct hit.

“Asshole.” He steps down off the railing. Ting, ting ting. “Lucky shot.” He readies another energy blast, fires, and is finally rewarded with a sparking collision.

“I’ll show you luck.” Another rock rips up out of the surf and tumbles oblong and awkward through the air, but it hits the buoy dead on.

“Three times or it doesn’t count.”

They abuse the buoy until they’re both sagging under the strain and then a little longer after that. Nash manages to sling a rock in front of Teddy’s blast and it explodes in a firework of blue light that throws Nash’s victorious whooping into sharp relief and Teddy realizes that they’re all liars. Everyone who ever said time heals all things lied because he’s just as in love as he was six years ago. Maybe more.

Tagging: @sithbelle @harlstark @harleyification @keenerkey @sender-paulson aaaaandd everyone on blue's taglist! @wildswrites @themundanemudperson @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see @theirtheretheyre @plonccc @thedumbestavenger @yors-truly @thephoenixandthecrocodile @cljordan-imperium @writeblrvotes

Your vibe is, "Who did this."

[dcbbw]

Author Update

Hello, Tumblr! Some of you know the details and particulars of my life at the moment but some of you don’t know what’s going on other than “life.”

II have been dealing with a LOT lately between work and home, and it’s beginning to affect my physical health (I’ve lost 29 pounds, complete exhaustion, and swear to God I’m growing a cyst on my eye) and my mental (forgetfulness, no motivation for anything, and work productivity is not what it used to be).

My solace, my grounding, my happy place is in writing, but I really haven’t done any of that lately. I did start some new stories and tried to finish up others; I have them in my head but the sheer amount of effort to break open the laptop and putting words to page is almost overwhelming most days.

Maybe it’s stress, perhaps a mild form of depression to help me cope with what my life has become now … I don’t know. What I do know is, what this latest chapter of my life is giving me things I definitely did not sign up for. While I have accepted that this chapter is not about Robin, rather care of and service to others … I did not expect the struggles of all types I am facing and the lack of help and support.

I just want a day. A day to sleep in, to not shower and stay half-naked in bed, to read, write, cook a meal without someone over my shoulder … to have privacy and quiet and no obligations. Just one day.

And it’s too much to ask for.

I want a paycheck that isn’t gone two days after I get it because I am now doing for at least three people what I used to do for one, and on half the salary.

I’m tired of my plans … my simple as fuck plans … being put on the backburner for someone else’s emergency.

I’m tired of worrying about what the hell is gonna pop off next.

I’m tired of seeing (and everyone else seeing it as well) people fall off physically and mentally, but I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces.

I’m tired of being the lowest paid in the office but doing everyone’s job.

I can’t even self-care because I’m constantly broke and always on someone else’s schedule. I shouldn’t have to be sick to be able to sleep in without guilt and reprimand.

I’m tired of being unable to break down, because if I break down … I may not want to be put back together.

So this is my rant, my vent, my therapy.

I called out from work today; going to try to get a nap in, and possibly some writing (@peonierose sent a fun ask), but no guarantees.

I’m just struggling to get through another 24 hours.

Tagging:  @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @liamrhysstalker2020  @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet  @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising0308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @bbrandy2002 @eversoaringqueen12 @queenmiarys

[beazt]

why the HELL does NO ONE on this forsaken website talk about or boost posts about the far right extremism in North Carolina? I make posts about it when I’m able to and sometimes it feels like I’m the ONLY fucking one, on the entire website, who brings it up. My posts get like a few dozen notes and then crickets.

go into the tags “North Carolina” and “nc” and see how long it takes you to find political posts on the “top” option. you’ll notice in the nc tag the first one you see is my post from months ago before my mental health crashed severely (partly because of the content of that fucking post) to the point I needed over 80 hours of therapy in less than 3 weeks to even get stable again

with less than 120 notes

and in the “North Carolina” tag the first political post has absolutely nothing to do with Actual NC Politics

I’m not gonna fucking put guilt tripping shit in the body of a post I want people to reblog. I’m not doing it. But I’m also not going to fucking sit here and NOT talk about how LIVID this makes me that NO ONE CARES ABOUT US!!!!

IT IS LAW IN NORTH CAROLINA NOW THAT PARENTS HAVE TO BE NOTIFIED IF ANY STUDENT (K-12) REQUESTS TO BE CALLED A DIFFERENT NAME OR PRONOUN. EVEN IF ITS A NICKNAME

The legal reason for this is “to not notify the parents would be withholding crucial information about the student’s mental health”

NO queer (“sexuality”) or sexual education material or discussion for students through 3rd grade

Parents gained the right to request a list of every single book a student has checked out of the school library, and also object to ANY curricular or supplementary material used in the class. FOR ALL STUDENTS K-12

THERE ARE TRANS PEOPLE, TRANS CHILDREN, IN NORTH CAROLINA. This is a fucking DISASTER for education, a DISASTER for queer children, and I haven’t seen a GOD DAMNED SINGLE PERSON on this site talking about it until I searched the bill by name on here!!! And there were like 2 posts, one was a vent, that did not give much information at all and both had 0 notes!!!

And that doesn’t even get into the absolute SHIT STAIN running for governor but I already made a post about that and it got 118 fucking notes. He is a walking DISASTER for ALL marginalized people of NC and children because even though he’s pulling some gaslighty shit like “I never said that,” he is on record saying he wants to REMOVE SCIENCE AND SOCIAL STUDIES FROM ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS

STOP IGNORING US

I’M BEGGING YOU