#I've even got my 'shut up I'm reading' mug out lol

[musette22]

We did some yoga together & now we chillin 🙏🏻💫

[boxingcleverrr]

one thing I've tried to do the last few years is REALLY pick apart WHY certain, mainly harmless fun things don't jive with me, or even downright annoy me. Like, just shutting my mouth and not being a hater is good, no reason to yuck other people's yum and all.

But often times when you actually dig in and figure out the root of shit, it tends to annoy you a bit less. And in my case with many things they just become background static I ignore, as opposed to a glaring annoyance that stabs my brain every time I encounter it.

Lately both the Abbies on my dash reminded me how oh, so many harmless things that annoy me can be boiled down to infantilization.

Like, "No Talk Me I Angy" was super cute the first time I saw it, like yeah! A grumpy lil kitten the size of a pea would say it like that, how correct!

Then a few months later I saw it on a sticker on someone's travel mug, marking it as a thing that resonated with their personality, and internally I eye-rolled so hard I saw the back of my skull. Which is my same reaction to "choccy milk" and adults unironically saying "my tummy hurts D:" and yeah, SQUIDGE.

These are harmless fun things people enjoy and say. And I am an adult woman whose desk is covered in pre-FIM My Little Ponies.

But I was also infantilized a LOT growing up. I was bright for my age (now I know, also undiagnosed), buuuuut my intelligence and fact-retaining were kinda seen as a party trick, esp as I was the only person my age at family gatherings (big age gap between my nearest youngest and oldest siblings). My ideas and solutions were rarely taken seriously, and oh boy that lasted in my family uh, until I came back to Vermont as a 30 year old woman, lol.

My mother STILL has times of catching herself going "that can't be ri-..." before remembering hi, it's me, AND I'm almost 40 now. I'm not always right, but I usually am. Cause I got that brain that drives her crazy cause it remembers EVERYTHING.

My first serious conversation about boundaries with a coworker was with a woman in her 60s who baby-talked at EVERYONE (customers loved her, go figure). And while 90% of my coworkers were annoyed by it too, they just shrugged it off. But it seriously affected my mood, and ability to work really, as her desk was right next to mine.

So one day during lunch when she said something along the lines of "Awwww you're still a kid! You have lots of time to worry about ---!"

And I politely but firmly said, "I know you mean it kindly, but when you say things like 'I'm a kid' and so on, it kind of gives the impression that you don't see me as a peer, or mature enough for this job." And it was fine, she apologized, and shared HER point of view which was basically, she WISHES she were still a kid, cause she associated that time of her life with being carefree, and oh man.

Lots of annoyances in life can also be traced to a touch of envy: I envy people that find solace in not just childhood things (again, see: ponies and barbies all over my desk rn), but a childhood mindset. That going there is a way a lot of us are processing a world that is so, so impossibly tiring and expensive and yeah good god it'd feel nice to get tucked in and read Laura Ingalls before sleeps.

Buuuuut a childhood mindset for me was full of anxiety, lol. It was not being taken seriously, and wishing for challenges, or a portal to open up and swallow me and take me to my home planet where I'm a scholar-princess. So yeah naw, no thanks, there was lots of great fun stuff in my childhood, I had a loving home and all, but the anxiety and 'tism have been there too, making me the weird kid who knew stuff.

So yeah anyway. Knowing it and typing it out really DOES make me have less of an asshole reaction in the day to day. I might have a little envy for choccy milk people, but I do prefer being the 10 Obnoxious Facts About Chocolate You Didn't Ask For person.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Tailspin | Chapter 14

Maverick x F!Reader

Summary: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell falls in love with his number one rival’s girlfriend.

CW: swearing, love triangle, angst, elements of infidelity, slow burn, you're going to feel so bad for Ice, I apologize in advance <3

This chapter is really just a bunch of Mav/Goose/Ice banter which I adore haha I love writing these three so much because they've got such distinct personalities that just mesh so well. Their interactions are always super fun! Hopefully I'm not the only one who feels that way lol

Start from the beginning: Chapter 1

*This chapter is told from a third person perspective because you aren't in it!*

Maverick steps out of the residence in the morning with a cup of coffee in his hand. He looks over to his left when another door opens. The door swings violently as Tom marches out of his room. He looks around frantically and, upon seeing Maverick, starts in his direction without even shutting his door.

"Where is she?" he yells.

Maverick furrows his brows, gripping his mug tighter. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he mutters as Tom pushes past him aggressively and slams his fist into the door.

"Open the door!" he shouts. "I know you're in there, Amelia!"

Maverick turns to look at Tom with a worried expression. "Ice, is she not at home?"

Tom rounds on Maverick angrily, clutching his shirt and slamming him into the brick wall of the residence. Half of Maverick's coffee splashes out of the mug. "Don't play games with me, Maverick," he hisses.

"Ice, I swear to you, I brought her home. I saw her go inside."

"Well, she's not there. And all her stuff is gone." Tom knocks Maverick into the wall again, just as Goose hops out of his apartment.

"Woah!" Goose cries, seeing the two men glaring at one another. He hurries toward them but Tom releases Maverick's shirt half-heartedly and turns away before Goose approaches, stepping out into the lot.

Maverick looks like he might be sick. He turns to Goose in dismay. "Amelia's gone," he breathes.

Goose lets out a sigh. "Yeah," he says. "I know."

Tom wheels around and jumps back onto the porch. "What do you know?" he growls, using his forearm to pin Goose to the wall.

"Ice, enough!" Maverick shouts, grabbing Tom's shoulders and throwing him off Goose. Tom staggers, trying to keep his balance as his shoes slip on the gravel of the road. Maverick turns to look at Goose anxiously. "What did she tell you, Goose?"

Goose takes a deep breath and pulls out a piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. He holds it out to Maverick. "She left me a note. Under the door."

"She left you a note?" Tom snarls through gritted teeth.

Maverick gives Tom a hostile look and takes the paper from Goose's hand. He unfolds it while Tom hops back onto the porch and leans over his shoulder to read it.

Dear Goose,

I think I've done exactly what you'd asked me not to do. But I'm not sure how it could have been avoided. At least Maverick's heart is not the only one that's broken.

I should never have come but, at least, I have the sense to leave. Perhaps it's too little too late, but better late than never.

If there's one last favor you can do for Mav – and Tom (and me) – I ask that you help the two of them repair whatever bond they'd managed to establish before I destroyed it. For some reason, I feel like they might need each other one day.

I wish you, your sweet wife, and your adorable boy all the best.

Thanks for your friendship.

-Amelia

Maverick crumples the paper up in his fist when he's through reading it. His jaw is clenched as he glares into the distance. The warm wind picks up the dust in the field and swirls it above the road, creating a haze that obscures the rest of the town.

"Where did she go, Ice?" he says quietly.

"How would I know?" Tom spits out.

"She was your girlfriend!" Maverick yells at him. "Don't you know anything about her?"

Tom glares at Maverick. "She's not my girlfriend anymore. You made sure of that."

Maverick scoffs, shaking his head. "Please, you think your delightful disposition had nothing to do with her walking out on you?"

Tom leaps forward in a rage but Maverick is ready for him this time and blocks the assault, side-stepping around him and grabbing his arm while driving an open hand into Tom's windpipe.

"Mav," Goose says reproachfully as Tom doubles over, coughing. Goose crouches down to help Tom back up while the latter clutches at his throat.

"It was just a tap," Maverick says flatly, rolling his eyes. "He'll be fine."

Goose gives Maverick a pointed look, patting Tom on the shoulder compassionately while Tom glares at him angrily. "I know where she is," Goose says as Tom straightens his back.

Maverick looks at Goose intently. "How?"

"Well, I think I know where she is," he says hesitantly.

"Spit it out, Goose," Tom croaks irritably.

"She had a fight with her parents right before her break," Goose says. "It's why she decided to come here instead of going home."

Tom narrows his eyes at Goose but doesn't say anything.

"She wouldn't go back to campus yet, either. Her semester doesn't start for another week," Goose continues.

"Goose, I swear to god –" Maverick shakes his head.

"She's got a sister in Myrtle Beach."

Maverick cocks his head to the side in wonder. "How the fuck do you" –

"I talk to her about real life, unlike you two fools," Goose says in exasperation and stalks off toward the perimeter of the lot. He sticks his hands into his pockets and swings his head back and forth, looking at the road in both directions as if he might be able to spot a clue.

Tom eyes Maverick moodily. "I talk to her about real life," he grumbles.

Maverick nods in agreement. "Totally," he responds. "Me too."

"Plenty of times," Tom adds.

"At least a handful of times," Maverick sucks in his cheeks and smirks at Tom.

Tom rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "What're we going to do?"

Maverick sighs. "Well, she doesn't have a car," he says. "Which means she'll be taking the bus. Or flying."

Tom gives Maverick a pointed look. "So, one of us should drive. And the other one..."

Maverick's grin widens. "Good thing you got your Buick out of the shop."

Tom makes a grimace. "And then what? Finders keepers?"

Maverick's expression sours. "Don't you think her choice counts for anything?"

"Her choice was to leave," Tom bites back. "You want to respect that?"

Maverick stares at Tom. "Good point."

Tom holds out his hand. "Whoever finds her first wins."

Maverick cringes. "What if Goose finds her first?"

Tom rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

Maverick sighs and grips Tom's hand, giving it a firm shake.

"What're you two clowns agreeing on?" Goose asks as he makes his way back toward them. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"Don't worry, Goose," Maverick says, giving Tom a forceful clap on the back. Tom groans in response. "We're just repairing our bond."

Goose watches them skeptically. "Whatever you say. Just keep your egos in check."

"What egos?" Maverick asks, grinning.

"I don't have an ego." Tom shakes his head, shrugging.

Maverick laughs and Tom throws a knowing smirk in his direction, sticking a piece of gum in his mouth. "Shall we, boys?" he says.

Goose takes a deep breath. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Read Chapter 15

Tag List:

@babyspiderling

@kaifarren

@tomhiddlestonsleftkneecap

@glamorousangels

@capswife

@fresh-new-yoik-watah

@hariestyles1

@psycho-magnotheric-slime

@avanisbored

@newstart-newheart

[drarrysinful]

Happy Drarry prompt! Harry and Draco are happily married to each other, no one dies. No one gets sick or injured either. Same if they have pets. No one's cheating, physically nor emotionally. It's also neither a dream nor hallucination, nor an AU they've stumbled into nor witnessing from a 3rd person perspective. I dare you to try making this angsty, as I'm pretty sure I've covered all the bases. Oh wait! They're only talking about wonderful and nice things. Now I'm sure it's impossible lol.

Happily Ever After

“We finally did it!” Harry said with a laugh as Draco struggled to open the door to their new flat. “We’re finally married!”

Draco huffed, but with a bright smile on his face as he carried Harry over the threshold. “Yes, we did. And you’re immediately going on a diet, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Hey!”

“You weigh a ton! How did I get roped into being the one that carries you, you’re the quidditch player!”

“Oh excuse me, Professor Malfoy, but you insisted!”

They both glared at each other, but with none of the coldness of their youth. There was nothing but warmth and affection in their eyes.

“Oi!” Harry suddenly exclaimed as Draco made it over to the couch and unceremoniously dropped him on it.

Draco just laughed and dodged one of the cushions as Harry pelted it at him.

“Come on, Harry. Help me get dinner ready.”

Harry groaned and feigned melting off of the couch, “Nooooo, you’re such a task master in the kitchen.”

“Food should be prepared with the same care and precision as a potion.”

“Yea, and I was always pants at potions.”

“That’s cause you didn’t have me helping. Up you get.” Draco reached down and pulled Harry up to his feet

“Yes, Professor,” Harry grumbled good-naturedly, letting Draco pull him to his feet and then dutifully following him into the kitchen.

————————-

Weeks later, Harry walked into the kitchen to find Draco sitting at the table, sipping on his tea and reading the Daily Prophet. A steaming mug of coffee awaited Harry in his usual spot.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” Draco chuckled, his eyes not leaving the paper.

Harry groaned and sat down, rubbing his sleep fogged eyes and taking the first blessed sip of liquid life, “You would be tired to if you spent all of yesterday doing bludger drills with some of the best beaters in the league.”

“You may do physically taxing, but I spend my days doing mentally taxing.” Draco set his paper down and rubbed his forehead, “With all those numbskulls in my classroom, I can see why Snape was so grumpy.”

Harry glanced down at headline on the paper Draco had been reading.

EX-DEATH EATERS. WHERE ARE THEY? WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

“Of course we all know about the infamous Draco Malfoy, and how he managed to steal away the famous Harry Potter (Malfoy). How did he do it? Our reporters now look into some evidence of dark magi—“

“Why do you even read that rag?” Harry asked in disgust, “It’s utter rubbish.”

“I like to keep informed.” Draco said simply, before standing. “I’ll get breakfast ready.”

“I can do it!” Harry protested.

Draco pointed a spatula that he had just pulled out in Harry’s direction, “After you tried to burn the kitchen down last time? You are no longer allowed in my kitchen.”

Harry just laughed and went back to his coffee.

After breakfast, Draco spelled the dishes into the sink to clean themselves and stood again, “I need to go prepare more for this year’s lessons. Have a good day training.” Draco gave a smile, leaning down to give his husband a kiss before sweeping out of the room and into his study.

“You too.” Harry said, draining his coffee and then heading out for another day of dodging bludgers.

—————————

Months later, Draco came in through the floo, home from Hogwarts for the Christmas Holidays. He was immediately pounced on and showered with kisses by a laughing Harry.

“I missed you!” Harry exclaimed.

Draco gave a small smile, “Yea, me too.”

Harry tilted his head, “What’s wrong?”

“Parents.” Draco shrugged, “They can be a nightmare.”

“Well, I know what will cheer you up!” Harry exclaimed, gesturing at a half put together Christmas tree and various ornaments littering the living room.

Draco arched a brow, “You call making a disaster out of my living room something that would cheer me up?”

Harry laughed and pushed Draco toward the mess, “No! Helping me put up the Christmas tree!”

Draco just smiled, sitting on the floor and starting to sort through the piles of way-too many ornaments “There’s no way we’re getting these on the tree.”

“Watch me!”

—————————

Harry woke up the day after Christmas and glanced over at Draco, still in bed. He frowned slightly, not used to being the first one awake. Brushing it off as Draco being tired from an all Weasley Christmas Dinner, Harry got up and went into the kitchen. He made himself a cup of coffee and then made Draco’s tea as he sipped on his coffee.

He had finished his coffee before Draco emerged from their bedroom, tossing the Daily Prophet into the bin as he came in.

“Welcome to the land of the living.” Harry teased.

Draco just waved Harry off and sat down to drink his tea.

“Want to make breakfast?” Harry tried.

“You can make it.” Draco said passively into his tea.

Harry nodded and got up to make breakfast.

—————————

“Draco?” It was the summer holidays now and Harry glanced into their bedroom, holding a hot cup of tea. Draco didn’t respond, only rolled over and drew the blankets tighter over himself.

“I’ll just leave this here for you.” Harry said with a smile, leaving the tea on the bedside table, “And I’ll make you breakfast.”

Again, Draco didn’t respond.

Harry shut the door and sighed. They had spent the whole year just fine... what had happened?

Harry walked into Draco’s study, a room he rarely visited. When he walked in he found stacks of the Daily Prophet. The paper Draco had stopped reading in front of him, and that Harry had never bothered to read. Going through the papers he found a years worth of headlines claiming deceit, dark magic, and other equally dark and ridiculous ways that Draco had managed to marry him. Articles about Draco’s family and his and their involvement in the war. Harry threw the papers to the floor and looked around the room some more. In Draco’s desk Harry found hundreds of letters from parents disgusted that a former death-eater teaching their kids, many mentioning the articles from the daily prophet. He found more from scorned people who felt that he had been stolen away from the wizarding world and telling Draco how much of an awful person they thought he was.

Harry crumpled the letters in his hands.

Why hadn’t Draco told him? Every time they talked by floo-call, Draco only ever told him about the good things, the happy things. He suffered alone. Hid his pain so as not to worry Harry.

Harry went back into the bedroom and sat next to Draco on the bed, noticing that his tea hadn’t been touched.

“Draco? You remember when we first moved here? You insisted on carrying me into the flat, then complained about my weight.” Harry gave a small laugh at the memory. “Then you forced me to cook with you. You’re so much better than me in the kitchen.”

Harry glanced down at Draco, he hadn’t moved, just continued to stare at nothing.

“How about when you would tease me about waking up late, but you always had my coffee ready for me.”

Harry glanced over at Draco’s untouched tea. “Of course you’re much better at tea and coffee than I am.”

Harry sat in silence, Draco only shifting to stare absently up at the ceiling. Harry shifted to lay next to Draco, wrapping an arm around him. “And on Christmas, when you told me I couldn’t get all those ornaments on the tree? I sure showed you.” Harry forced a laugh, watching Draco’s unchanging face, “You hated it and redecorated the whole thing while lecturing me that you can’t just ‘cram a whole bunch of stuff together and call it decorating.’ That was so much fun.”

Draco just looked at him, but stayed silent, his defense mechanism, the Malfoy Mask firmly affixed upon his face.

“I need to get to work.” Harry said, fixing a smile on his face. He leaned in and gave Draco a soft kiss before exiting the room.

As he shut the door, Harry all but collapsed against it, sinking to the floor as he felt tears sliding down his cheeks. When had this happened? How had he not noticed the bits of Draco’s soul breaking apart as he sank into depression, leaving him but a shell of himself. Every time Harry had asked, Draco had brushed it off and changed the subject to a happy one, or Harry himself had tried to make Draco happy by only talking about happy things. But Draco had been suffering by himself and sinking this whole time.

How could he not have noticed?

Why was he so oblivious?

And how would he get his happily ever after back...