#also i do laundry A Lot and i grew up with the idea that you can wear jeans twice (2) so long as you aren't like... in the mud

[uncanny-tranny]

It's very funny being like... a stereotypically (as in, straight masc) masculine queer person. Like it's frustrating because I would love to have cute moments where I share tips with a trans woman or maybe help somebody in that kind of way, but like... why should she or anybody else listen to me when I only got my third pair of jeans recently? 😭

[shebsart]

Im sick with flu so naturally I picked up my newly bought copy of Howl's Moving Castle which includes DWJ interviews in the back.

And im in love with the way she tells these stories feels like a part of her books.

And my favorite:

The magic in the mundane :)

edit: I'm copying the ID by @princess-of-purple-prose below, thank you!

[ID: Excerpts of printed text which read:

I suppose there's also a biographical element in that Sophie is the eldest of three sisters, and so am I. The idea for Sophie grew out of the time I discovered I had a very severe milk allergy. I almost lost the use of my legs and had to walk with the aid of a stick. I was moderately young, but because of this I suddenly became old.

I had to wait until I knew what Wizard Howl was like. I began to discover Howl about the time when one of my sons took to spending several hours in the bathroom every morning and I got really, really, really annoyed with him.

Where were you when you wrote it? I wrote the book the way I write everything, stretched out on the big sofa in my sitting room, in everyone's way. This often annoys my husband rather a lot.

which made me burst out laughing. I laughed and laughed at the seven league boot, and when I came to the bit where Sophie accidentally makes Howl's suit twenty times too big for him, I laughed so much that I fell off the sofa. My husband was really irritated by this time. He snapped, "You can't be making yourself laugh!" And I gasped, "But I am, I am!" and rolled about on the floor.

Are any of your relatives or friends included in the book? Yes, well the thing that started me off writing the book was a friend of mine who never does her laundry. She has it around the place in huge bags for often as much as a year. When she does tip it all out and try to wash it, she discovers all sorts of clothes that she has forgotten she had.

Which is your favourite part of the book and why? I like the book all over, but I suppose if I had to choose a bit, I'd choose the place where Howl gets a cold. It so happened that when I was writing this bit, my husband caught a bad cold. He is the world's most histrionic cold catcher. He moans, he coughs, he piles on the pathos, he makes strange noises, he blows his nose exactly like a bassoon in a tunnel, he demands bacon sandwiches at all hours, and he is liable to appear (usually wrapped in someone else's dressing gown) at any time, announcing that he is dying of neglect and boredom. So all I had to do was write it down. End ID]

[ghost-proofbaby]

a simple life (e.m.)

summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.

warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.

“Where did you even get this postcard?”

“Eddie.”

“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”

Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours. 

“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you. 

“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him. 

“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?” 

“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.” 

“What if I say please?” 

You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour. 

He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?” 

“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.

You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties. 

“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”

“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile. 

He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”

His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you. 

Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for. 

It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it. 

“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.” 

“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.” 

You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care. 

“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.” 

“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”

“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”

“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips. 

Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in. 

“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.” 

Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you. 

You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you. 

You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?” 

With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.” 

You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you. 

A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.

The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you. 

“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

[jksprincess10]

Hey! I love your writings! Especially your neighbour story’s! I saw you take requests… So I have an idea. What about no-outbreak neighbour x reader. Where the reader has a dad who doesn’t care about his daughter, never was there physically. So the reader basically spend her childhood mostly at Joel’s house. He taking care of her, being supportive and all. So, as she grew older and goes to the college the atmosphere maybe changes. Like lingering touches or glances. But he always holds himself back. She works maybe as a waitress besides college to safe some money. My thought was that on his 36 birthday she throws him a big surprise party, and bought with her saved money his biggest wish. Like a new car or something. Something he always dreamed of. To thank him for basically raising her? On the party some dude flirts heavily with the reader. And Joel finally has enough of hiding, with following smut and cuteness maybe? That would be amazing. I hope it’s understandable and not to much. Take care of yourself and have a great day/night! 😊

Hii ! Thank you for your request. I wrote something inspired by it but had to change some details for realism. I also made y/n more like Sarah's best friend so it didn't feel like grooming. Hope you still like it.

Daddy issues

CW: Age difference, power imbalance, daddy issues, alcohol, oral and fingering (f receiving), jealous ! Joel, BFD ! Joel, no outbreak AU.

When you moved to Texas for your dad’s work at 12 years old, you met the Miller family which included Joel Miller, a single dad in his 30s, and his daughter, Sarah. You immediately became friends with her, and she helped you survive your new school.

Your dad was never really there, especially since your mom had abandoned your family for another man. It became even worse when you moved to Texas. He was away for days, but you were used to it. You could function like a little adult, cooking, doing laundry and cleaning. You didn’t really have a childhood.

Mr. Miller saw how often you were left alone. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions, but did offer you to stay over a lot. You offered to help him cook in exchange, as he was always working late hours. He was a sweet man, who took care of his daughter and of you. Your relationship with Joel was also distant, he didn’t really know how to socialize with teenage girls like his daughter, but he was caring.

Over the years, your relationship with your dad stayed tense, and distant. But college gave you some freedom, you were legally an adult, you had a job as a waitress at a 24/7 diner. You worked insane hours to move out eventually, and also, to repay your debt to Mr. Miller. Your relationship with him had evolved over the years. With you in your 20s, and him at his 45th birthday coming up, you had developed a… crush on your best friend’s dad.

It was stupid, yes, and your daddy issues probably had something to do with it. But when he started seeing you as an adult and you started seeing him as a man, you felt some stares, lingering touches sometimes as you helped him cook diner for Sarah. You would flirt discreetly sometimes, hoping he’d notice.

Honestly, it was probably inappropriate, and you tried to push your crush away, not wanting to get him in trouble like he had groomed you. When, in contrary, he saved you and was always respectful. Sarah, of course, never knew. You had a few boyfriends and him, a few girlfriends. He was protective of you, so you never let him meet your partners.

Joel’s 45th birthday would be special. You and Sarah organized a big surprise party at your house (because your dad was gone, of course). You had spent months putting money aside to buy him a new acoustic guitar (his old one got broken by an ex… long story), and you were excited to finally give him his gift.

After your morning shift, you met Sarah at your house and finished decorating. The cake was safely stored in the fridge stocked with a lot of alcohol. You only had to wait for people to get here and for Joel to come back from work.

“I’m nervous.” said Sarah as she was hanging banners on the stairs.

“Because Joel hates surprises?” You guessed while you took care of the other side of the banner.

“Yeah… but he never does anything for himself.”

“I know. He’ll be happy.” You reassured her.

**

Family, friends and colleagues were waiting anxiously in the darkness of your home while you and Sarah welcomed Joel at his own place. You covered his eyes with a piece of fabric and you both guided him outside of the house. Your hand was latching onto the strong muscle of his bicep, which sent shivers through his body.

“I swear to God, if you two organized something for my birthday…”

“Shush, you’ll love it, dad.” Said Sarah with a smile.

SURPRISE !

He rolled his eyes once his mask was off, but his smile betrayed the annoyance he was trying to portray.

**

You ate the cake in a corner of the kitchen. There were people everywhere in the house, it was getting a bit overwhelming for you. Joel checked in on you after he was done with all the attention he was getting.

“So who’s idea was it?” He asked.

You lifted your chin to look at him with a smile, your fork playing with the white icing.

“Like I’m gonna tell you.” You responded, before stuffing the icing in your mouth.

Joel coughed awkwardly and tapped his neck nervously. He tried to ignore the way your pretty eyes looked at him suggestively while you were eating the white cream. Your eyebrow shot up as you were looking innocently at him, but you didn’t make any comment. You simply pointed your fork towards him.

“You haven’t even tasted the cake. Eat, so I can give you your gift.”

“You’re bossier than Sarah.”

“Learned from the best.”

Still, he leaned in, his mouth wrapping around the fork as he tasted the cake. You were totally staring.

“Fiinne, the cake’s good. I’ll get myself a piece. But I don’t want no gift, darlin’.”

The pet name made your chest flutter. It wasn’t the first time he called you darling, of course, but there was something more intimate in the air tonight. Like you would finally get more of him.

Joel left you, your cheeks red and your fork stuck mid-air.

**

“C’mon, open up.” You encouraged him.

Everyone was looking at him, and he hated it. But he wanted to make you smile, so he tore apart the wrapping paper that hid the big box.

“This big box and you probably gave me socks.”

“You’ll see.”

His mouth fell as he discovered the expensive acoustic guitar you had bought. For once, Joel was speechless.

“Darlin’, you shouldn’t have… You’re putting money aside for movin’ out…”

“I took more shifts. Turns out I can do both… And I really wanted to thank you properly. For always having me here when you know…. Dad…”

The word “dad” hurt. You didn’t like saying it. In your mind, you had no father figure. Joel imprisoned your body in the cage of his big arms, hugging you tight. You swore you had seen some tears in his eyes.

“I’ll always be here, darlin’.”

“I know.” You smiled and laid your head against his chest, as he kissed the top of your head.

With Sarah’s gift, a new watch, Joel was a spoiled man. The party really started after the gift exchange, everyone drank more, the older people left, and Joel tested his new guitar. Joel had lost his eternal flannel shirt somewhere and his greying curls had a mind of their own. You liked him like this, free.

You danced innocently to the beat of the 80s music that Joel liked and a few younger people joined you – cousins, colleagues’ kids you didn’t know. A tall guy, probably in his mid 20s, dark brown hair swiped to the side and green eyes, approached you. He was good-looking and seemed nice enough. You put your arms around his neck to bring him closer, your bodies following the same rhythm.

He asked for your name, said you were pretty. His name was Bryan. He was the son of one of Joel’s colleagues.

“What’re you doing after this?” He asked. You shrugged.

“No plans yet.”

Before he could ask for anything, you felt strong arms pulling you away.

“Darlin’ we need to get John’s coat upstairs, can ya help me find it?” Joel familiar accent resonated over the loud music.

“S-Sure!”

You shrugged to the stranger, and your eyes were apologizing for you.

Once in the room alone with Joel, you turned around with John’s coat in your hands.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it; it was literally at the top.” You sighed.

The older man had closed the door and he seemed like he was trying to say something, but he was held back, his mouth not making any sound.

“I didn’t like seein’ ya with Bryan. Guy’s a womanizer.” He finally said.

You frowned and crossed your arms.

“Joel, I can figure that out by myself. I’m an adult. Tell me what’s really going on.”

He got closer, his height towering over you. You looked up at him, trying to see what was going on behind those pretty chocolate eyes. His hand held the side of your face, and you felt your heart jump out of your chest.

“Can we… talk about what’s goin’ out with us?”

“Joel, you’re drunk.”

“M’not, darlin’. I’m really sober. I noticed the way you were starin’ earlier and… every day, really. Since you became a woman.”

You turned your head away.

“Fuck, I know it’s wrong.” You whispered, like the words scared you. “But I like you a lot.”

It was a confirmation for him, enough for him to take the scary jump and kiss you. You yelped, then grabbed his neck to bring his body closer to yours, tasting the hints of sweetness of the cake and the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“I want more, just this once. Then we don’t have to talk about it again…”

“Okay.” You simply said, breathless.

The pile of coats fell to the floor as your tangled bodies met the softness of your mattress. Joel was towering over you, his broad frame becoming your whole view. Your hands explored his biceps, as he was looking at you intensely. He tried to determine his next move.

“Can I take this off?” He asked as he pulled on the hem of your dress.

You nodded enthusiastically and helped him pull the clothing over your head. You were wearing a dusty pink laced matching set under it. It was like you intended to take someone home after this. You saw hints of jealousy in Joel’s dark eyes. You caressed his cheek and he softened under your touch.

“You intended to go home with someone tonight, darlin’? Naughty girl.”

You blushed profusely. “Let’s not talk about it…”

To focus his attention elsewhere, you helped him take off his t-shirt. You ran your fingers over his skin, exploring parts of him you had never seen before. You mostly did it to hide the shaking of your hands.

“M’gonna take good care of you, don’t worry.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

His large hand trailed down your body and caressed your wetness through your laced panties, ruining the thin fabric. You whimpered softly and grabbed onto him.

“So fuckin’ wet.”

He discarded your underwear and took in the view of your perfect cunt. His digits explored your wet folds, feeling his way to your pleasure. You squirmed a bit.

“We have to be fast, Joel, they’ll see we’re missing…”

The older man sighed. He wanted to take his time with you, but he couldn’t be greedy. He agreed and opted on plunging his head between your thighs to prepare you faster. He licked through your folds, rapidly finding your sensitive bundle of nerves. You fisted the blankets as you moaned, still trying to keep it quiet so the whole party downstairs didn’t hear you.

“I know, I know… you have to be quiet for me, baby girl.”

He held his palm over your mouth, and you nodded obediently. He kept licking at your bud enthusiastically, finding a rhythm that you enjoyed. Your thighs almost closed together, but Joel kept them apart with his free hand.

Then, he sneaked in one finger, stretching you slowly. Everything about him was big, but you tried to relax.

“Y’okay?”

You nodded.

He added another finger, as he sucked on your clit to make you think about something else than the pain. You let out a small “Fuck” under the cover of his palm. While he took care of you, you played with your breasts to get more stimulation. All the sensations drove you slowly to the edge. You had your orgasm silently, but your whole body was shaking, your back arched up. He helped you through your pleasure, before leaving your wetness. Joel put his arms around you to cuddle you as you were coming down your high.

“Don’t think I’ll be able to live without this.” You finally said as you came down from your high.

Joel smiled proudly and pressed his mouth against yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

He stopped when the door of your bedroom opened, letting in some light and noise. You hid yourself quickly with the blankets and panicked as you saw Sarah standing in the doorframe.

[cleolinda]

I grew up in a haunted house and I didn’t notice

This is not a story about boo ghosts or shadow people. If it were, I would have figured it out, at least.

When I say "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice," you have to understand that there was a lot going on with this house. It's not the house that I've written about currently living in, the one with newspaper and soda cans stuffed where insulation should have been, the one with constant home-repair calamities. No, my childhood home was a crumbling pile of red brick built in the 1920s. Narnia was in the backyard, and the back deck was my ship on the high seas. The house was surrounded by banks of flowers, lilies and irises and roses, and it was full of creepy shit I didn’t even blink at. I loved it.

It didn't look haunted, or even particularly historical. It was almost disappointingly normal—I lived on a street with a house that had a turret, for God's sake. No, it was just old and small. There's a lot of pre-Depression houses getting torn down in these suburbs; my town has been awash in construction for the last 20-30 years as people buy up cheap old houses, raze them, and squeeze mini-mansions onto their tiny lots, all to get their kids into a good school system. It gives me a chill to think of it, but yeah, that might happen to my childhood home someday, small and plain and unassuming as it is. My pirate ship has already been renovated into an extra bedroom, the new owners told us.

When we moved into the house in 1983, though—it had clearly been renovated in the '60s or '70s; the wallpaper was hideous, and the upstairs bathroom was carpeted. Shag-carpeted. The house had closets the size of shoeboxes; my bedroom, the one with the peach wallpaper, didn't even have one. The room down the hall had four, including one cut into the wall, under a slanted ceiling tucked beneath the roof, that looked like you'd stash a witch there when the Salem HOA came by. There was a fan in the attic—well, first of all, the attic was just one more room on that upstairs floor. It was directly across from the (carpeted) bathroom, and that room (lit by one ominous, hanging bulb) was just a short corridor with storage spaces on either side, hidden behind big sliding doors. And the fan at the very end was built into the brick outer wall of the house. Like our house was functionally open to the elements, between the blades of that fan. I have no idea what the fuck anyone was thinking when they built that, and how the fuck anyone kept the wildlife out.

We certainly couldn't. Squirrels lived in the roof and bowled with acorns. It was like listening to a pinball machine at night. I have an abject horror of cockroaches because sometimes an adventurous one would fall off the ceiling in the middle night, onto me, while I was trying to sleep. (Like, try to imagine that—you’re awakened from a dead sleep by a vague, paper-light skittering sensation up and down your arm. When Pennywise comes to me, he will show up as a cockroach.) But wait! There was more! We had herds of crickets in the basement that felt compelled to jump at people. Sometimes there were centipedes! Those were polite enough to only come out at night. In the dark.

By the way, that basement was totally unfinished. I don't mean that it just had exposed beams or concrete walls. I mean that the basement had uneven, mostly shoulder-high masonry walls, and then it was just open on three sides, extending under the rest of the house. Like just dry red Alabama earth and rocks and grainy dust tumbling around in this vast, dark—it wasn't even a crawl space, a child could have stood upright in it. This child? Oh fuck no. And the washer and dryer were down there. I had to creep down there, down a rickety plank staircase, past the staring dark caverns of my own basement, through a low-lying fog of aggressive crickets, go BEHIND THE STAIRCASE, and then do my laundry there. There was also a firewood pile by an old fridge, and only God knew what was under that.

None of this was haunted. All of this was completely normal to me. This isn't even the haunted part.

So let's go back upstairs. The ground floor was lovely, homey, fine except for the time the living room ceiling fell out due to water damage. Upstairs was where it got weird. I've talked about being mildly bullied as an unknowingly autistic child; home was where I felt safe. In my bedroom upstairs, I had all those My Little Ponies and my easel with all my crayon-drawn fantasy maps and all the stories I wrote. It didn't matter if roaches fell on me in the deeps of the night; home, that's where I was happy. So when I was a young kid and I felt like a vampire was following me down the hall at night, I assumed I was just being silly.

I was aware of vampires in the 1980s as, like, the Count on Sesame Street (ah ah aaah), and Count Chocula, and Count Duckula on Nickelodeon, and the Bunnicula books that I loved. As a kid, I wasn't aware of movies like The Lost Boys or Near Dark, or any vampires that weren't broad caricatures of the Bela Lugosi look. I loved Spooky Stuff—I'm from the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark generation—but vampires didn't scare me.

But when I had to get up in the middle of the night to go down the hall to the (carpeted) bathroom, I always had the sensation that something was following me as I was going back to my room. Something Dark. Not terribly tall, maybe not even much taller than me. And somehow, I visualized this deep in my mind as a vampire. Kind of a silly one, you know, the white-tie formal wear and the ribbon medal and the cape. I wasn't desperately scared that a Chocula was behind me, but I knew that I needed to get back to my room quick, and, at all costs, I must never look back. I must never look over my shoulder or else I would See It, something silly massing in the dark—and, brother, Eurydice would have been safe with me. Never stop running, never look back.

And I'm sure all kinds of kids develop little superstitions like this. It's probably a developmental thing, like having an imaginary friend (which I also had at some point). Even as a seven year old, I was thinking, This is silly, I'm just making it up (but not looking back costs nothing. Not looking at monsters is free). And I continued to think this, until I laughingly told my younger sister this at Sunday Family Dinner one night. We were both in our thirties at that point. And my sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears. And she told me that when she had a bedroom upstairs, there was Something in there.

I won't belabor the exact setup, but at one point, we got it into our heads that we'd like to switch bedrooms, just for a change. I was 14, and I moved to her ground floor bedroom with the flowered white wallpaper and the big bright windows, and she went upstairs and took my room with the peach wallpaper and the cool slanted roof-ceiling (and no closet).

There were three other rooms on that upper floor (and I promise you this is important):

1) One was a small, windowless room that we used as a playroom, with weird cerulean blue carpet and sky blue wallpaper, one dim light fixture, and a little door in the wall that led to dark nothing. Like, you opened it, and you were confronted by a mass of pipes and machinery and just enough space to edge leftwards in the dark. Towards what? Fuck if I know, I sure as hell wasn't going in there. I think it was supposed to be for access to the HVAC system. I don't know. It was fucked. But when I was a young child, I had cooked for my baby dolls at our plastic play kitchen right next to that door, nbd, because apparently you put me in a creepy situation and I just go, yeah, we live like this now.

(I had not ever felt alone in that playroom, but I had also been too young to articulate that. Of course I wasn’t alone! I was with my dolls!)

2) The next room was the (shag-carpeted) bathroom. It had a big mirror over the sink counter, very typical, facing a vertical mirror that was behind the bathroom door. I've heard two mirrors facing each other can create a portal for the spirits, if you believe in that kind of thing. I once did the "Bloody Mary" thing there and nothing happened, idk.

3) The next room was the bedroom with four closets, where an older family member lived with us, and when she moved out, my sister moved to that room.

?) The fourth room, not really a room, was the dark, narrow attic.

So, Grownup Family Dinner at my current house, a few years ago: my sister told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her. I'm not sure if she actually said it lived in the little Hide A Witch closet or if it was just kind of... ambient. I don't know what it looked like, or if we're talking about ghosts or Something... Darker, or what. I don't think she's entirely sure herself. She doesn't like to talk about it in detail a whole lot. What I know is that she felt it was there, and she had chosen that room to sleep in as a young teenager, and not a lot of sleep was to be had.

"I never really sensed anything, like… demonic," I said, puzzled. "Just the Chocula that followed me." And my sister was like, ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF??

"What about Rebecca??" she sputtered.

Oh, yeah: Rebecca. (A name I've changed at my sister's request.) I had a friend as a teenager who liked to mess around with ouija boards (AM I LISTENING TO MYSELF?), and we did a session at her house one time wherein we discovered that the ghost of a girl? young woman? named Rebecca lived (so to speak) at my house, and she had been murdered by her boyfriend. How we arrived at these specifics, I don’t remember, but I had told my sister about it because I thought it was interesting, and also, I was kind of a shit. My friend also decided she had her own ghost named Dusty. It was all one big [citation needed, footage not found], but it was also part of our family lore.

So, many years later, my sister told me that she had long felt—without knowing about the Chocula—that there were two spirits on the upper floor of our childhood home: the dark one, and a younger, lighter one. I sat there at the kitchen table and thought about it.

"You know, I did kind of feel like there was someone up there, when I was a kid," I said. "Sometimes I would go into the attic, and it felt scary, but like there was something there watching that was okay? Like having a lamp on in a dark room, kind of. It’s weird, because it’s just a feeling, I remember it very clearly, but I didn’t really question it or wonder."

I thought a bit more.

"Oh yeah—there was also the time I just really felt compelled to go color in the playroom by myself at midnight, and it kind of felt like someone was there."

My sister stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone "go white" until that moment.

"Yeah, I just woke up and had this idea—I was maybe nine years old? That it would be super cool to do stuff at night when I was supposed to be asleep, so I got a flashlight and went into the playroom—"

"IN THE DARK??"

"Well, yeah. If I had turned on the light, someone would have seen it and told me to go back to bed. So I set this flashlight on the floor and got out the crayons and colored in one of my coloring books a while. Maybe the She-Ra one?"

Thinking back on it now—of course I was sitting right by the scary door. I think we all, you and I, saw that coming.

"And I had the same feeling I had in the attic. Like someone was sitting on the floor across from me, friendly, I guess I would say female, and it was cool. Like, it was chill."

My sister looked like she was about to pass out.

"I don’t really know how I could sense this then but not really say anything about it, or even think about it, until now," I said, shrugging. "I’m probably imagining it."

I’ll throw in here that one of the dolls I had in that room was a Raggedy Ann. Like, just for extra hilarity, Wee Cleo is hanging out, coloring, at midnight, with a ghost and a fuckin’ Annabelle.

So: My sister is adamant that our childhood home was haunted. And apparently I was entirely blasé about it (maybe possessed?), but then, I was dealing with a lot of suburban wildlife. My problems with that house were far more immediate. And crawly. Nor can we prove that the house was haunted—I certainly haven’t looked up any homicide records—and I don’t think that Vibes, In Retrospect, are valid evidence on my part. But I find it interesting that I knew what she was talking about. I find it interesting that I was like, "Yeah, that was chill." And I find it interesting that when I went away to college, and I lived in a dorm suite where sometimes I’d be the only person there while my roommates were out,

I remember noticing that it was the first time I’d ever felt alone in a room.

Who was that imaginary friend I'd had?

--

I asked my sister to read over this, partly because I wanted to see if she’d be willing to describe the Something Dark.

"Oh, I’ll tell you anything you want," she texted back, "but that’s not how it happened."

[thejujvtsupost]

Can i please request some wedding day headcanons for Gojo? Like how he proposes and the day itself and the honeymoon 👀 thank you ❤️

Gojo on Your Wedding Day

I have no idea how this got away from me honestly but here we are. I’ll do a separate post for an extra spicy honeymoon later but it ended up too cute and wholesome to add smut. Also this is from a western/American standpoint of wedding practices. I’m relatively familiar with ‘traditional’ ceremonies but not well versed in modern Japanese wedding practices. I know some people prefer traditional over modern/vice versa but I’m not knowledgeable enough on the specifics so I hope you don’t mind. <3

Notes: F!reader, marriage proposals, implied nsfw, nervous Gojo and lots of fluff.

For @joyfulenthusiastwitch

First of all, Gojo is such a boy fail.

Like seriously, a total boy fail. Asking you out was an accomplishment in itself- and you’re literally his closest friend. He’s all smooth and put together until it comes to romance. He tripped over his own feet and he stuttered.

The great Gojo Satoru, stuttered.

Of course you found that hilarious and struggled to not laugh at him- until he finished with “Will you date on me?” And you lost it. You nodded and agreed but you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

It’s okay though, because he was laughing with you. He built it up asking you out in his head so bad and you didn’t even hesitate. So he’s laughing with you and at himself, it’s just you after all, he doesn’t know why he was so worried.

You started a real relationship (his very first one!) after three dates. You laugh and learn, and you take things in stride together.

Gojo tries his hardest- too hard sometimes. He read somewhere that relationships shouldn’t have secrets and that resulted in him revealing every single secret about himself.

“I never wear my pants just once, I hardly ever do laundry and I reuse them to make them last- as long as there isn’t a stain.” -you tell him pretty much everyone wears their pants more than once. But to him it’s a secret because he grew up in such a prestigious clan and that wouldn’t be acceptable.

And “I don’t like washing my hands unless the soap is scent free. I’d rather use hand sanitizer.”

None of these things are necessary. You live together now, he does laundry and you already figured out his preference for scent free soaps after the bottle of pumpkin spice hand soap at your friend’s house made him gag. -He didn’t want to be called out for not washing his hands, anyone would be able to tell if he hadn’t because the scent was so strong.

Cut to three years later and he’s back at it again.

He doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He took that too seriously and it stuck. But now he’s definitely keeping something from you and it’s irritating because you’ve never had to press him for anything. You’ve never felt like you were on the outside of an inside joke with him. And it goes from irritating to just hurtful when he comes home super late

“Sorry baby, I was hanging out with Nanami.”

Spent hours ring shopping because he’s picky and couldn’t find the perfect one.

You kept face, but you already asked Nanami where he was when you got worried and he said he hadn’t seen Gojo all day.

You know there’s a lot he can’t tell you, but he’s never kept personal secrets from you and this obviously was one.

You’re five seconds away from confronting him after he comes home four hours late without a heads up or a simple text. You aren’t controlling but he has a dangerous life and he always used to text you at least- and you were always understanding! You didn’t know what you did to be treated differently.

He’s got something behind his back and he’s sweating, and Gojo doesn’t sweat. You’re concerned more than anything else. Nothing else matters, you can be angry and hurt after you make sure he’s okay.

“Baby what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You get up from the couch and reach out to touch his face but he dodges and refuses to let you get closer.

“Just hold on, please? I finally found it and I can’t wait any longer.”

“Wait for what toru?”

His breath hitches and you don’t know if he’s gonna start crying or hyperventilating or both. Then he’s on not one, but both knees in front of you. Again, boy fail.

So he’s struggling to get his words out but he’s determined. He found the perfect ring for you and he knows he should plan out how to ask but he can’t he needs you to wear it immediately- assuming you say yes. He needs everyone to know you’re his.

He’s always been a possessive man, he tries to hide it and be respectful. He just reinforces how cute you look in his clothes, prompting you to wear his hoodie to the grocery store and other little things. A ring is the ultimate “she’s taken” and he doesn’t even have to be present. Everyone will already know. (not that he doesn’t trust you!)

“So the relationship- our couple, is nice I think.”

You tilt your head because what the fuck is he even saying??

“I mean you’re really nice. And cute too. And you love me so that’s… nice.” He cringes and looks so pitiful.

You decide to throw him a bone. “Slow down, you sound like you’re having a stroke in kindergarten.” You get on your knees in front of him, getting on his level.

But no that’s not what’s supposed to happen! It’s not part of his plan! He’s supposed to be the only one on the floor- he scrambles to stand up and pulls you up with him, guiding you to the couch. Except… is that a ring box that he dropped nearby?

Then it clicks for you, and you feel giddy but you’re so fond of him. “I think you dropped something baby.” You point to the box on the floor and he groans.

“Aw fuck-” he picks it up and kneels at your feet, you hand in his and presents it to you- he’s not sure where his speech went but he’s looking up at you from the floor.

And that’s when he hits you with “Marry you me?” And then his head falls into your lap with another groan and several expletives.

Of course you lost your shit, laughing so hard you’re crying while running your fingers through his hair to reassure him. “Yeah, I’ll marry you me.” You managed to get out between giggles and he finally pulls back to look at you.

You’re smiling at him and his face is red- so red. He’s grumbling when he’s sliding the ring on your finger and then finally leaning forward to kiss you with his own smile.

Again, he’s not sure why he got himself so worked up. It’s just you, you’re his person. The anxiety, while worth it, was unnecessary.

And after the laughter he gets choked up, “I love you so much, so much.”

That night the bed needs replaced- because of reasons.

A year later you’re headed towards him down the aisle.

And during your vows he doesn’t stutter at all- he’s not nervous or shy about how much he loves you. Everyone already knows how down bad he is.

The wedding is relatively small, your dress is so beautiful and he thinks you look like a cloud.

When he tells you that little thought later on during the reception it results in: “Just because cloud are white doesn’t mean everything white is a cloud, Satoru.” He pouts, because obviously. But you just giggle and kiss him on the cheek.

And he’s honestly just so happy to be there with you- he was never one for “real relationships” and now he’s married.

He’s married to you.

[crazydadd0]

Hello sweet 🍬🍭cheeks may I have a request for Jason, bo, vincent, lester, michael, Thomas, Bubba, and brams with, S/O who really cares about them and has the character and attitude that is very suitable to be a wife. Not forgetting their sweet lips which always managed to make them kiss those lips AND ALSO SEXY.

You are free to ignore this request of mine. Plus I really like every story you make.

This sweet is just for you sweet cheeks 🍏🍎🍐🍊🍌🍉🍇🍓🫐🍈🍒🍑🥭🍍🥝🥨🧇🥞🍧🍨🍦🥧🧁🍰🎂🍮🍭🍬🍿🍫🍩🍪

LOVE YOU

Hhehehe! I like this idea! English is not my language.

Slasher with s/o who is fit for a wife and gives them lots of love.

Michael Myers

- I feel like at home?

- He hasn't felt love since he was in the institution.

-But having you by my side I feel this strange emotion called Love.

- Your sweet behavior will make his heart stop more than once.

-You made him dinner and waited for him? He won't admit it, but it made his heart weary.

- Hug him, ask for help with typically masculine things? I feel important and loved!

-He even started thinking about getting engaged to you.

-But he also loves when you kiss him sexually or not.

-The feeling of your lips on his body sends shivers down my spine.

-He also loves it when those sweet lips of yours do sinful things to him.

-Or moan his name like a prayer.

-God, why are you so perfect for him?" you make me feel more normal and loved.

Jason Voorhees

-I feel loved!

- You give him so much love and home warmth that his cold heart bursts with love and warmth.

- He will be such a cuddle for you that every stuffed animal hides.

-Your home warmth ignites family relations in it.

-Thought he would propose to you. his mom would like it.

- You're perfect for a wife.

-But your mouth.

-God melts as soon as your lips touch his skin.

-Always trembles when you kiss and touch him.

-Just looking at your lips makes me have sexual thoughts.

-When this happens, he runs away to the forest to calm down.

Brahms Heelshire

- You started as his babysitter so he already saw those domestic qualities in you.

-you were jealous of the doll. he wanted you to kiss him, not a doll!!!

-he loved your food, eyes, style, laundry, cleaning. everything about you and about you.

-Your love made him start a little but it helps you a little.

-Home wife, god loved it.

-But your lips and goodnight kisses.

-I'll tell you it jumped on something other than just one goodnight kiss.

Bubba

-You survived because you were perfect to take care of their home.

-Imagine how messy and muck there was.

-You've gone to work ever since.

-Bubba watched your actions from the sidelines and felt your heart beat every time you looked at him with a smile.

-You were cooking and Bubba was sure he was in love with you.

-He already knew you would be his wife.

-But when did you kiss him for the first time? God. he was in heaven.

-Your mouth drove him crazy.

-You turned him on and you didn't even do anything."

-He had to deal with the problem for a while. please leave him alone for now.

Thomas Hewitt

- whatever, but he knew you'd be the perfect wife.

-he knew it from the moment you helped Luddy May in the shop.

"But when did you start showing love to him?"

-It melted.

-Love for you grew involuntarily.

Your family already considered you a member of the family.

-But Thomas secretly thought you were the perfect wife for him.

- She'll tell you one evening.

-Do you want to excite him?

-kiss his hands, tell him how strong and beautiful he is.

-I don't promise you won't scream his name tonight.

Bo Sinclair

-At first he had a plan to take you to the basement in his workshop, but when you started talking to him with such love in your voice.

- He's held off for now.

He let you into the house and told you to stay there.

-He came back in the evening and was in complete shock to find the house tidy, dinner ready and you talking to Vincent.

-Can you feel jealous? maybe a little?

-But it passed quickly when you ran up to him, asked how his day was.

-Did you offer dinner, back massage, beer?

-God.

- You were perfect and you knew each other for one day.

-It took him a while to admit to himself that he loves you.

-Another plus about you is those plump lips.

-Bo loves to kiss, to see on his body.

-But he loves it best when they're wrapped around his cock.

Vincent Sinclair

-How did it come about in your home behavior?

-he himself don't know.

-It just kind of worked out.

You treated him normally

You didn't judge, you wanted to spend time with him.

- you kept it clean, you prepared the food.

-Even his brothers liked you.

-He fell in love with the feeling of your lips on his.

- He even noticed that he often painted them in different situations.

"When there's more going on between you two, she'll kiss you fervently."

-You have his lips on yours all the time

[crisiscutie]

Any thoughts or headcanons about Sephiroth and mating press? Please? 👉👈

🥵🥵🥵 You guys know that gif in 7R where he pushes Cloud to the ground and bares his teeth?

Content Warning: NSFW: Dubcon, Breeding Kink, Mommy Kink.

That's exactly what he'll do before mating press his darling. I think this position would be a favorite amongst all Sephiroths (because they're all Sephy ofc) but some more partial to it than others. Such as Female Sephiroth, 7R Sephiroth and C.C. Sephiroth. I think these three tap into their feral natures more often than their counterparts. I mean, just look at the twin boys~.

His twin brother, 7R Sephiroth:

I have a huge primal kink and for Sephiroth, the idea of him going feral with his darling is amazingly hot. What better sex position for that than mating press? I also have a headcanon for a secondary animal motif for 7R Sephiroth, which is the crocodile. They're known for their enormous size and for being opportunistic apex predators. They use being cunning tricks to catch their prey at the right moment..

When I first saw these eyes in the game:

They bore into me with such intensity that I felt like a helpless prey about to be devoured. To me, his eyes weren't like a cat at all - they were the eyes of a ruthless predator, like a crocodile. As a child, my parents' passion for nature and their fixation on apex predators, particularly alligators and crocodiles, meant that I learned a lot about these intimidating and exciting creatures. This is probably why I always enjoyed visiting Florida and being near them. It's so exciting but scary...

Anyways, I also wrote a fic with 7R Sephy and his darling in this position for those interested here. While I'm experimenting with pairing different Sephys with different Darlings, why not some HCs of C.C. mating press the Domestic Darling? 😏 Check out this Sephthought for some context to this pairing.

Imagine C.C. feeling naughty one day while the Domestic Darling is folding laundry, so he sneaks up behind her to embrace her.

Turning around, she planted an innocent kiss on her sweet boy's lips, but it soon turned into a more intense kiss as his tongue invaded her mouth and danced with hers.

She broke the kiss, needing a moment to catch her breath. She commented on how forward her sweet boy was being today, giving him a curious and bashful glance.

He pulled her close again, his voice low yet gleeful as he spoke of his ambition to establish his dynasty over Gaia... And there is no better place to begin that than his precious mother's womb.

Her cheeks grew warm as she tried to process his words.

As she opened her mouth to speak, she didn't register the predatory and lustful glint in his eyes. He then pinned her down aggressively, ready to breed.

In a matter of seconds, he ripped her skirt apart and pulled her lacey panties aside.

He thrusted his thick cock into her warm cunt, showing no mercy as he relentlessly pounded away.

With her legs draped helplessly over his back, the poor darling whimpered in both pain and pleasure as he drove himself balls deep and hit her cervix.

Her sweet pleas for him to be gentle and listen to her were white noise to him.

Her bouncing tits were neglected as well. His mind was consumed with the goal of impregnating her, blinding him to everything else.

Sephiroth knows that his beautiful mother will bore his spawn. They shall help him rule over this planet and the cosmos. No more will these human parasites and other worthless lifeforms continue to exist.

And he will continue to breed her, ensuring that she is never without his seed.

The darling endured hours of unrelenting breeding by C.C, his ragged breathing and grunts filling the air until he released his corrupted seed deep inside her, filling her womb to the brim.

After a brief interlude, he returned to his normal self, still sheathed inside her. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

Twisted love and excitement shone in his eyes as he noticed the laundry scattered around them.

"I ruined some of the laundry, Mother..." he said apologetically.

The darling couldn't respond, as she was just fucked silly and filled to the brim with his seed. Her hand trembled as she reached up to his head, giving him a soft, reassuring pat.

After the head pat, his slit eyes briefly dilated. He leaned in to give her a sweet kiss on the lips, holding her in an even tighter embrace.

"I'll never let you go, Mother~" 💜

I'm happy to share some other thoughts on fitting sex positions for Sephy too if you guys want~ 😏😏😏

[csuitebitches]

I really enjoy your blog and was wondering if you have advice on one of my biggest mental blocks. I'm 23 but struggle to feel like an adult and being independent deeply scares me even through I want to be "chasing my dreams". I've lived with my close knit family my whole life and still spend a lot of time with my parents. I'm almost going to move away(in the next year) and so I've began the process of getting a car/saving money, etc. But then I find myself subtly sabotaging these efforts because the idea of being alone/moving away also terrifies me. I really want to experience moving to a city and working and traveling and doing things I want and at this point I'm finding it draining being my parents "stay-at-home-daughter". But I also get anxiously sick when I try a push myself for more independence. I've put so much on hold going through school and then living in my home town w. parents and it's kind of scary to imagine dating (never prioritized men + parents didn't let me date in highschool= never had a bf or anything) or living alone even though I'd love to have the experience. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Basically I still feel like a 15 year old when it comes to my personal life and that feels a bit shameful.

I want to tell you that we all feel what you feel. You’ll only ever feel like an adult when you’ve exposed yourself to the outside world, regardless of whether you can handle it or not.

independence scares you because it’s unfamiliar territory. Often when we look at people who are independent and on their own two feet, they seem to have a sense of self identity, purpose and responsibilities to handle.

I’m always in favour of people moving out of their parents homes for a couple of years at least (the culture where I come from also emphasises on the whole family living together and there’s no move out at the age of 18 concept) because I see the pros and cons of both situations of living in/ out of your parents home.

No book, YouTube video, friends’ experiences will teach you about being an adult. You have to step out and experience it yourself.

Start doing exposure therapy. Basically, slowly, bit by bit, immerse yourself into the traditional adult experiences.

I’ll give you examples. Understand fully how your insurance works. Keep all your medical records in both a physical and a digital file.

Understand how your car functions as a product - which means guarantees, warranties, insurance, emergency numbers, mechanics nearby, etc.

Start tracking all your spending expenses, even if you’re using your parents money at the moment. The earlier you start this habit, the better. Create a monthly budget for yourself and stick to it.

Start doing your own laundry in the house and learn that not all clothes go in the washing machine, some go for dry cleaning etc.

Make it a goal to learn to cook at least 5 dishes properly before you leave. If your parents are good cooks, ask them to teach you or go to every introvert’s favourite site, YouTube.

Pretend that your room is a mini apartment and try to keep it clean at all times.

Start socialising more. Not just with known friends. Sign up for a random hobby class like a book club or a running club where you can meet more people. Yes it’ll be difficult, yes you’ll have moments of awkwardness but don’t give up after just one meeting - go and meet new people to get used to the idea of interacting with strangers.

You can’t rush into feeling like an adult. It takes time. Exposure therapy is the best way to get into it. The more responsibility you can healthily shoulder, even if you fail at times, you’ll still start feeling more confident.

We weren’t born with the knowledge of car tire changing mechanics, insurance, cooking or tidying up. We had to learn them as we grew up. It’s perfectly alright to not know how to do something. The beauty of living in today’s world is that the answer to nearly every question is one google search away.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

hey, may i please request domestic headcanons with zora, luck and yuno?

Hiya~! ^^

Of course! It's been a while since I've gotten anything domestic. Hope you like this!

Pairing: Zora x gn!reader, Luck x gn!reader, Yuno x gn!reader Fanfic type: Headcanons Length: ~0.75k Genre: general/fluff

Zora

Zora is very good with housework. Which surprised you in the beginning, because he certainly didn’t look the part. But it turned out that he was more than familiar with doing things around the house.

The first time you had asked him to do laundry, you expected him to mutter something, or maybe even ask how does one do it, but he just uttered a “sure” and did as he was asked to do.

Late it turned out that he had had to learn how to do housework ever since a young age, which explained why he was so knowledgeable. And it was then that you realized that a lot of little things just ‘mysteriously’ had got done, without you doing them or asking someone to do them. Which meant that Zora had done them in passing.

It was a habit he had, doing things as they appeared and he got around to them, without a word. He never made them seem like chores in the sense that it would have been taxing to do them.

Little did you know, he found it .. nice, to be able to do chores, now that he had someone in his life. The idea of coming home to a neat house, was lovely. And he was damn sure that he was going to do his part in assuring that it’s take place; that the house was clean, the laundry and dishes were done.

He was also an excellent cook. But not in the sense that the food would have tried to be more than it was, just good, simple home cooking. Heart-warming food.

Yes, he was an excellent spouse, who had no issue taking care of the house.

Luck

Luck isn’t well versed with housework. He does know how to do the basic chores and how to clean, because he had to participate at the orphanage, but he’s not big on it. In fact, when he was still young, he broke more while cleaning than clean, which is why he was excused more often than not.

But after joining the Bulls, and being a part of the squad in making the Hideout into a home, he begun taking more responsibility with domestic chores. Which didn’t mean that he still liked them, but he did do his part.

However, he never fusses about chores. Yes, they are something that need to be done, but if you’re having a bad day, or he can just get a feel that doing housework is very taxing on that day, he’d do something fun with you instead. The dishes can wait. The dust can be swept on the next day.

And he will take care of his share too. He might not, still, be the best at housework, but he can cook simple food, he can dust and do laundry. He is able to do all the things that is required, but making life enjoyable is more important to him.

His goal is to make you laugh, and keep you happy. And sometimes he does bring you flowers after a cleaning day just to cheer you up.

You are the most important thing in his life.

Yuno

Yuno is able to handle all chores due to growing up in the orphanage, and he is very organized and meticulous about it, usually preferring to stick to a predetermined cleaning days in order to handle the chores.

Though in the Golden Dawn, he didn’t need to partake in them anymore. But in an odd way he misses it, even if only a little bit, because it was a part of his childhood. All of the kids, Sister Lily and Father Orsi just worked together to get the church cleaned. At the time it wasn’t particularly fun, but it grew to be a treasured memory nonetheless.

Especially since as Spade Royalty, chores aren’t exactly in his future either.

But he does stay very organized throughout his life, and at times you can catch him dusting something with his magic, even if he wouldn’t need to. It’s just a little quirk of his.

Once he surprises you at a trip to the country side, where he has rented a small cottage for the two of you, and he cooks for you. Just because he can. And it’s like you two were living quiet, simple life, even if for only that trip.

He finds joy from little things, along with being able to chase his dreams; which include a life with you.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: Am I currently watching Winter Soldier? ... yes. It’s such a comfort movie though. Also, Steve is such a comforting character ... Chris Evans’s voice is like sinking into a hot bath on a winter’s night. Okay maybe that last sentence was kinda cringe, but oh mother effin well.

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, no details though - it’s only briefly mentioned

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

SFW🌿

・The sexual tension between the three of you was insane. 

・You couldn’t deny the chemistry, but Steve was barely ready for a relationship. So polyamory was something that was completely off the table... 

・That was until he met you, Nat’s secret lover, turned significant other.

・A jealousy grew in him, that he hadn’t realised he had. A jealousy that he hadn’t felt so strong

・It was deep and he felt a pull from his very core. Like he was meant to know you, and be ... with you. But not just you. With Nat. Because he felt so strongly about her. 

・Not just her physical beauty, but the pain that she’s gone through. He can see that. He can connect with it. 

・He sees you and Nat tied in some way, and he wants everyone to see him as tied to the two of you as well

・It was your idea. One night snuggled next to your love, her red hair tied loosely in a bun, you brought Steve up. 

・And she changed ... it wasn’t a big change, but you felt it in her demeanour. Like a sixth sense from you, you knew she felt a certain way about Steve

・So, when you said out loud that you wanted him to be apart of your relationship, as a third party. She blanched. Shocked. Not in a negative way. But in a ... ‘this can’t be real’ type of way

・ “Are you doing this for me...?” she whispered, her hold on you tightening

    “For you? Baby, I like him... there’s something about Steve...”

“There definitely is something about Steve...” she laughed, pulling you closer

・Within the next few weeks she brought it up

・And he dropped what he was holding. One of Tony’s thousands-of-dollars tablets. The super soldier, THE Captain America, fumbled and let the tablet drop

・ “Not how you were expecting the day to go huh?” 

・He turned into a bright red tomato. Cliche, but he did. 

・And he couldn’t look Nat in the eye until a week later, when he asid he’d be up for it. 

・ “I want to take it slow,” he was sitting in his dining room. With the two of you on the opposite side of the table

・You smirked up at him and Nat had an almost identical smile. Cat-like. 

・ “You call the shots, Captain.” 

・You both honoured Steve’s wishes to keep things slow. You knew something like this was going to be a bit tricky

・But it turned out much easier to manoeuvre 

・Steve likes being in charge of certain things around the house, and although you and Nat don’t adhere to gender stereotypes, Steve does want to mow the lawn and take the garbage out. 

・He also likes to make dinner and do the laundry. Nat’s version of a meal is usually a cup of noodles and two slices of toast with butter on it 

・You like having lots of plants around the house and the other two actually look after them as well. 

・It should be noted that Steve Rogers has in fact been caught dancing to Lizzo. 

・And he can actually shake his ass very well (although he can’t twerk) 

・There’s a lot of banter, and Nat can be very flirty with Steve. Her aim is to make him blush

・But there are also times when they connect on a deeper level because of the trauma they both have endured 

・You all live in a four-bedroom flat in New York, with two bathrooms and a lovely balcony. It’s very safe. 

・Nick Fury has been invited over many times but he never takes you up on your offer

・But Wanda comes over a LOT. And Steve is like an adoptive father to her, making you and Nat her adoptive mothers

・Nat invites Tony over and there’s a bit of tension between him and Steve. You ... like to watch to see what happens 

・Whenever there’s a party at Tony’s, you’re always invited. Actually, you’re one of his favourite people - although he would never admit it 

・One of Nat’s secrets is that she would love to go to women’s rights and justice protests, as well as Pride (she would TOTALLY dress up) but because of her line of work, she can’t be seen ... doing things like that (political things) 

・Although when a tragedy happened on your neighbourhood, Nat said “fuck it!” and she solved the murder, while also speaking out for domestic violence victims 

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖: (the majority of these are said sarcastically) Honey, Honey-buns, Sexy, Angel. And they’re usually accompanied by a smirk. 

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆: Gift Giving and Words of Affirmation. She loves to give you momentos from her travels and the dates you three go on together. Her heart soars when she sees them around the shared apartment. 

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖: Sweetheart, Dear, Princess, Gorgeous. At first he was a bit embarrassed to call you these names, but because he’s gotten used to being in a relationship, he calls you these names without hesitation or shame

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆: Physical touch and Quality Time. He likes when you tickle the hair at the nape of his neck, and grab his face and kiss his cheek.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Blood Of My Blood by Ramin Djawadi

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

  ✧ Looks Like He Could Kill You, Is Soft (Steve) x Looks Like She Could Kill You, Can Kill You (Nat) x Looks Soft, Can Kill You (You)

  ✧ Responsible And Level-Headed (Nat) x Responsible And Hot-Headed (You) x Responsible And Honourable (Steve)

  ✧ Moon (Nat) x Sun (Steve) x Eclipse (You)

  NSFW🔞minors dni!

・Steve calls you his ‘good girl’, particularly when you’re on your knees

・Nat likes when you take the lead, but she is a switch. Not really a dominatrix, because she sees sex as something so special 

・Steve is more of a giver than a receiver

・Nat’s very good at giving head but prefers to receive it 

・There are times when it’s just two of you having sex. 

・Steve loves having sex throughout the house, at times ... on the floor. He can be a deeply passionate man. Hot kisses, a lot of grinding and whining. He’s put off sex for so long, that when he has a taste - he can’t get enough

・Nat’s favourite place to have sex is the bathtub. With her sitting in between your legs, with the hot water surrounding both of you - she loves when you touch her gently, fondling her breasts and giving her soft caresses

・Steve likes to be called ‘sir’, ‘master’, ‘daddy’. And on special occasions, when his blood is running hot, he begs to be called ‘captain.’

[talenlee]

Player Characters Of the Szudetken

Oh yeah, I talked about the Szudetken, right? That peninsula that’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, and is full of these awful horror-inspired daylight-horror Christian ideas, with a dash of Bloodborne and The Locked Tomb for players to work with. But how do players interact with them? Especially with no mechanical information?

Well, that’s what this lengthy mechanical article is about. Yes, two thousand words of just ‘different perspectives on living in these cursed places.’ It’s not going to have a dramatic conclusion, it’s just character options. Note that these aren’t the backgrounds you get in the Szudetken. You can be an Artisan or a Merchant or a Military background character from all across the Szudetken: those backgrounds still show up just fine. These backgrounds just represent some of the more prominent experiences unique to these specific parts of the Szudetken.

Also, these backgrounds are presented as a way to try and give you, the player, a vision of what life is like when you have this background. Things that are familiar to you and normal to you, and what big, prominent things that are normal to other people aren’t necessarily normal to you.

Where a Background says ‘Associated Skills,’ that means you can choose for those skills to either be added to your class skill list, or you can have a constant +2 bonus to those skills. When it lists a ‘benefit,’ that’s something else.

And now, on with tools for making a Szudetken character, which may be of use to you if you’re just… grabbing these cultures and dumping them into your world!

Osteon Backgrounds

You grew up in the Osteon. You’re familiar with centralised cities, connected across landlocked countryside with a train system. You live with industrialised benefits, and a class system that hasn’t got a lot of upwards social mobility. If you ever broke a bone, it was healed in the same day by experts, and when you lost your teeth as a child, your parents probably sold them. Instead of coal, oil, or captured lightning, though, the industrialised cities you lived in were defined by skeletons. Prosthetics, engines, transport and weapons of war – skeletons were involved somehow.

Bonecrafter Family: Your family are somehow connected to the necromancers of the Osteon society. You probably insist on them being necropaths or mortirian, and you have very clear opinions on what the difference is. You might have been a business that acquired bones, or cleaned or sorted them, or recovered bones from other skeleton systems in a process of optimisation and refinement.

Associated Skills: Religion, Heal

Capital Camper: You grew up or learned your trade in the vast camp around The King’s Lattice. Rather than growing up in a city, you grew up in a tent camp around an enormous city, and knew that everything around you was temporary. Any day now, you’d be allowed into the city, which is what everyone hoped for, at least those who didn’t give up and quit. Time to time bone constructs would emerge over the city walls and drive off some of the tents, or kidnap some people, and sometimes missions would be delivered out of the city to the camps by skeletal messenger birds. Despite living in a country with a central industrialised system, you basically lived in a tent city, surrounded by people trying to interpret strange and cryptic changes in the walls of a city.

Associated Skills: Endurance, Nature

Crucesbough Backgrounds

You’re from Crucesbough. You’re used to assuming it rains. Sunny days happen, you know, since farms grow food and laundry dries eventually, but even the sunshine is dull and grey and grimy. Every colour you’re used to is muted, hillsides of grey-green with purple-grey lavendar and grey-white heather. Almost everything you’re used to somehow orients around blood — sellers will boast how their food is good for the blood, travellers will store magical spells in blood and carry them from town to town, and people recommend treatments to improve up your blood. One of the hallmarks of a Crucesbough native is the phrase ‘something up the blood,’ like angry up the blood, hurry up the blood, sing up the blood, where ‘up the blood’ is used to invoke the idea of a person’s inner self, a true opinion or something deeply felt.

Empty Churchguard: Cathedrals and churches in Crucesbough are empty buildings. Nobody goes into them. It’s actually seen as a sin or crime to go into a church, and so most churches are patrolled by people who keep near the churches to make sure the empty space is kept inviolate.

Associated Skills: Religion, Streetwise

Blood Courier: You’ve done work travelling between the cities of Crucesbough and wandering the unguarded highways. You’ve probably dealt with nasty cults and woodland druids, blood thieves and ne’er-do-wells, and the things that teem to attack the veins of your nation. The heavy mask, the rain slicker coat, the boots, the scarf – the whole aesthetic, you are skilled in the transport of magically enchanted blood. You know not to look in a box. You’re probably really patient and can handle losing a lot, though you might be haunted with memories of dying over and over on your journey and somehow not being dead.

Associated Skills: Nature, Dungeoneering

Terzocco Backgrounds

You’re from the glorious kingdom of Terzocco. You’re familiar with a life with a healthy, bustling economy. You know people who have jobs, unemployment is probably limited to a few people in any given village, and the royal family’s affairs are excitingly always on your mind. The world is colourful, with beautiful, brightly coloured plants and fruits in parks dedicated to the crown. Every place you’ve ever lived has had an interesting puzzle just waiting to be solved nearby, whether it’s an old cairn that druids set up, or maybe a particularly hazardous type of local bear, cursed by an ancient fungus. You are used to living your life in a small, fairly insular experience where you rarely travel from where you are, and facilitate the experiences of a few rare travellers who enter your town to help with problems. These problems are very rarely fixed, even though every time, the people helped. You are a quest NPC in a brightly coloured MMORPG run by the royal family to keep themselves entertained.

Curtain-Twitcher: You’ve seen the truth of it. Whether you did the math on the economy and worked out it doesn’t make sense, or you tried to solve your town’s problem on your own only to learn it resets itself, or maybe you just saw a moment where one of those questing nobles changed into a different person because they were bored. You know what reality is now and you know that a large portion of your whole country is made out of dreamstuff the Terzocco Nobility have set up just as the boundaries of a playground. You know that they don’t think of you as a person and you know, you know, that they have absolutely replaced some people who they thought were interesting, so they could ‘play’ those people’s lives.

Benefit: Your paranoia has benefits. You get a +1 bonus to initiative. Once per day, if you roll an initiative and don’t like it, you can reroll it, but you must take the second result.

Lost One: You know the truth of it. You were a Terzocco Nobility, one of the Fair Folk from another realm projecting yourself immaterially into the bodies of these puppets in Terzocco. But somewhere along the way, either for moral or narrative or traumatic reasons, you can’t go back any more, and now you’re bound on this plane trying to make life as an actual creature with actual needs and an actual life work. You are a fair folk stuck in the body of an actual person and finding that you can’t stop being real, even if you used to be able to.

Benefit: You can’t die while you’re asleep. If someone coup de graces you in your sleep, your body just persists, not decaying. When your normal sleep time runs out, you wake up, with your body intact and on one hit point. This is because your body doesn’t know how to die on its own, even if you do understand it. Your starting hit point total is increased by 2.

Bernean Lodge Backgrounds

You’re from the apocalyptic Bernean Lodges. You know power flows from a compound built out of tempered wood. There are villages outside the compounds, but they don’t have the horses, they don’t have the steel, they don’t have the priests and they don’t have the knowledge of the future. You may have never seen a building more than two storeys tall, and even signal towers only reach a little higher than that. The forests are dark but rolling hills and wide valleys are dangerous too. You probably assume the world is ending, because you were told that most of your life. You also don’t look up at people on horseback, out of habit. That’s a good way to get hit.

Curst or Heretic: As a Curst, at some point in your childhood, you did something wrong. You might have expressed a heretical thought or asked a question that upset a Cathar. You might have weird hair or wrong coloured eyes. You got kicked out and forced to survive outside of the community. Food was left outside the walls for you to gather if you were too far from a convenient village to offload you.

If you were a Heretic, you chose to do something and get outcast from the community. If you were around, the food left for the Curst would probably have dried up – they don’t want heretics, who chose to be evil, stealing things left for the Curst, who had no choice.

Associated Skills: Religion, Nature

Voolfardisworth Backgrounds

If you grew up in Voolfardisworth, you know it’s pronounced ‘Vulzy.’ You probably grew up in a small population centre, maybe a small city at the biggest. You know that travel should always be done to places during the day, and never at night. You’re used to the storms that rack the sky. You know that the countryside is dotted with old castles or abandoned mansions, near towns that are otherwise trying to get by. You’ve heard rumours about vampires that drain your years away.

Ah, You Must Be The Hunter: You’re from a heroic family of vampire hunters, or possibly hunters of the general supernatural. There’s a legacy behind you, a skillset that suggests that you were being prepared to be good at fighting the forces of darkness from the cradle. You probably aren’t going to take too kindly to finding out that your family’s progress was being managed and fostered by another vampire that was trying to create a good weapon to direct at other vampires, though.

Benefit: Choose a simple or military weapon. You gain proficiency in it if you didn’t already have it, and you have a +1 to initiative while you’re wielding that kind of weapon. Add Religion to your class skills, and if it already was, you get +2 to Religion checks.

Night Survivor: The powers that drive Voolfardisworth are in a non-stop cold war against each other, and sometimes they can be locked into inaction by the right coincidence of effects. You at some point, had a brush with the night creatures and then somehow got away from it, surviving and escaping, either through wits or political maneuvering. Either way, you know things about your limits most people don’t.

Associated Skills: Arcana, Dungeoneering

Seibelmarsh Backgrounds

You grew up, or moved to, Seibelmarsh, a country that snakes along the cold, northern coasts of the Szudetken peninsula. Heading further into the country involved long passes up and over hazardous mountains, and dark nasty forests, you’re used to all the new things in your life coming by boat. You probably see the most outsiders of anyone from the Szudetken. If you’re well off, you probably ate a lot of fishy food, mushrooms and kelp products, flavoured with imported spices. If you’re poor, you probably ate most of the same things, without any spices. You may think of your people as intellectual, since every fishing village seems to have its own special secret and practice, and the University of Seibelmarsh is one of the largest in the world (you understand).

University Adjacent: It isn’t to say that you’re necessarily one of the famously doomed researchers at the Seibelmarsh university. It’s a big institution, and there are a lot of people involved there. But whether you were emptying the bins, protecting the staff, or preparing the food, you still picked up the way that university style magic is done, and can pick it up more readily than someone without exposure.

Benefit: You can substitute Arcana checks for any other skill checks for performing rituals, and you get a +2 bonus to Arcana checks for rituals.

Fouled Blood: Oh, you don’t think of it this way, but people outside your village do. Your village had a pact, perhaps, or maybe just your family, with something that wasn’t like the rest of Seibelmarsh, and it shows in your body and your mind. Maybe you’re a little bit fishy-person, a little bit demon-y. Either way, you know things deeper than people know them.

Benefit: Whenever you make a monster knowledge check, you can reroll the check, but you must use the second result even if it’s worse than the first.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

Hi, I'm trying to figure out how effective would species with multiple arms can use them at the same time. I mean, say for fighting, it's well known that dual wielding is very much just a trope and while it's been done, research says it's less as effective. So yeah if I have an alien with 6 arms it doesn't mean I should put a weapon in all of them. I get that. But how about other things. Can they like, drive a car with controls that need all 6 hands? Would that perhaps be even more effective since they don't need to take their hands off something to move toward something else. Maybe this species handles the pedals with hands instead of feet. Then two extra hands for changing gear and other things. Maybe it's a different kind of transportation system too that isn't comparable to us. Or maybe it's more dangerous because there's too many moving parts. Or say, a waiter using 6 hands to hold 6 trays, dangerous or more useful? Obviously there are a lot of other aspects but these are just a few examples.

Licorice: It’s not just about the limbs; it’s about the brain. Apparently an octopus has a mini-brain in each of its eight arms, so the arms are able to act independently of each other. It also has a central brain for when the arms need to be coordinated.  An octopus could probably octo-wield eight different weapons if it had to! Natural History Museum: Octopuses Keep Surprising Us

A human who suddenly grew four extra arms might become a clumsy menace, but a creature that’s had six arms since it was born probably wouldn’t have any trouble juggling six trays. That would be its normal. 

Since you’re designing this creature from the ground up, you’re free to decide whether it’s more octopus-like or more human-like when it comes to limb movements - or perhaps neither human nor octopus, but something else altogether. 

Addy: Limbs exist for a reason: to fulfill a purpose. As humans, we do foot stuff with our feet and hand stuff with our hands. A creature with more than four limbs would have a brain set up for using those limbs in an effective manner to fulfill their purpose. Like a centaur would be able to walk and do stuff with its hands at the same time - we generally don't question that.

It's really a matter of focus, in my opinion. Could someone with four arms play two different songs on two pianos at the same time? Probably not, much like how most human people can't play two different songs on two pianos at the same time – we focus on one thing at a time, regardless of how many hands we're using on that task. That's part of the problem with dual-wielding – not only are you messing with the momentum of your swings, you're also splitting your focus between two weapons.

For reference, imagine that humans only came with one arm by default, and someone asked if a two-armed creature would be able to use both limbs effectively. As humans, we know the answer is yes! Sure, we have a side that we favor, but we're able to use both of our arms at the same time. We're just generally limited to doing one thing with those two arms – laundry, driving (steering wheel + changing the volume, etc), knitting, whittling, texting, etc. There are some mindless things that we can do with one hand (holding a pet while talking on the phone), but we don't really multitask. I imagine that the same set of ideas can be extended to whatever creature you've got in your head.

Feral: Have you ever had to turn the radio down while driving in order to read the signs on the highway? It's a pretty common thing, and it has to do with our brain’s ability to switch attention between different sensory inputs. Using both your hands and your feet while attending to one specific task - say shifting gears in manual transmission - is something we are pretty capable of doing. It’s when we’re trying to split our focus to different tasks simultaneously that we begin to have trouble. 

So, let’s break down each specific example-

Driving a car with only hands and no feet involved. My paraplegic great-uncle did this actually. He had a specialty steering column with the gas and brake pedal. He had to use both hands at all times, obviously, but there’s nothing that says this can’t be done as a normal convention even with two hands.

Using all six hands to drive. We are able to effectively drive with between three and four limbs (or two limbs as previously stated) depending on the type of transmission we have, so it just seems superfluous to require six, unless is some kind of scifi tech that travels in different dimensions like a fly car. At that point, the question becomes, how much attention switching is needed? The more attention switching, the more dangerous.

Can a waiter carry more with six hands rather than two? Having worked in food service and knowing people in food service, stacking is actually the great skill of a waiter. I can carry as much food stacked properly in one arm as I can spread out between two and be much safer doing so because I am therefore taking up less space, which means there is less likelihood someone would bump into me.

So, when are more limbs actually better?

Consider monkeys with prehensile tails (essentially a fifth limb) or insects, arachnids, and other anthropods, What can they do better than animals with only four limbs? 

[theroundbartable]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "theroundbartable "?

Haha^^

10 fics will be hard for me to do, since I'm very bad with names and I don't really.... Save any. I read, like, comment and move on.

Let's start with my name first. That's easier. Theroundbartable was a joke I made a couple years ago and I had it as the headline of my blog for a while when I was still Changelink23.

I'm not sure where it came from anymore... But I think it was kind of the basis for "connecting the dots". Which is a fanfiction I wrote that is about Gwaine and the knights making up stories about Merthur. It was their game to guess what Merlin was up to and gossip about Arthur's pining. And collectively, they'd make up the entire series on accident.

My idea then was that the knights gather in a bar, got really drunk and basically play DnD with the BBC Merlin storyline. So, the knights of the round table, but at a bar. And maybe that table was round. And maybe it was their regular seat and they called it the round bar table.

After Changelink outdid its purpose and I got really deep into the Merlin concepts, I decided my name should fit the theme. And what else am I doing here with you guys, other than exchange ideas about Merlin while half sounding on drugs? It's my idea of being part of this fandom, I think. All of us sitting at the round bar table and having fun with the series together.

Now, fanfics:

1. Dirty laundry by Gybslythe (Voltron)

It's just... It has sentimental value for me. The author put down the story because they were bullied, sadly. I just felt at home in that fanfiction because the places seemed so familiar to me and I caught the feeling. I could compare it with me visitung my godmother as a child and the described places were just the best moments of my entire childhood. Also the writing style is SOOO good! I mimicked it for a mock exam and that was my best English Exam during my A-levels.

2. Sadly I don't know the actual name of this one :/

Funnily enough, it was a Gravity falls fanfiction... And a Bill cipher x reader one at that, which is WILD that I ever read it. The Reader thing really repulses me. Lol. The thing is, it was very non intimate and the world building blew my mind. It started off with Bill realizing his existence and step by step, he'd give his knowledge to the one human that interested him and therefore lost his power. The reader, however, grew with the knowledge and in the end, wakes up as the entity Bill had been. Just, suddenly knowing she existed, no memories of ever being human. It was so well done and pulled at my philosophical brain, I built "Wired" off of it.

3. Not a story but a series...

Anything by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle. This is the series that made my Merlin writings what they are. I read these and they brought me SOOO much joy! I used to write really depressive stuff. Still do. But after reading these, I wanted to bring that joy, too. I really dug into my humor after that and it really changed how I see stories and even myself and became the foundation of what I focus on in dialogues.

4. From the grave to the cradle by larcluce

I admit it, I'm a bit biased for this one because I'm so proud of larluce for posting their first story after wanting ME to write it. As if I could have done it justice. It's so good for a first work and yeah... I'm very proud of them.

5. My soul has your claim, my soul is in flames

(Voltron) i'm currently reading that due to my online friend's suggestion and it's just... Maybe it's because I'm currently obsessed with it but it really is just that good. It's everything I want from a voltron fanfic :) obliviousness, pining, misunderstandings, and reassurance and Lance's death reveal. Like... Yeah. I'm a sucker for this story.

...

There are probably a lot more on my list but I'm REALLY bad at remembering stuff XD I remember when I stumble on them. I just listed the ones that are at the top of my head. Sorry it's not a full ten :/ I actually write more than I read too. When I start reading, my mind gets ideas and then I have to write them down and I somehow rarely finish fics over 100k words.

BuT wRiTinG tHEm iS fInE.

By the way, I haven't read "like the cycle of the year" yet. It's been on my list for a while but I haven't gotten around to it. I know it's a fandom favorite. But maybe that's what's putting me off. It'll probably make me feel inadequate after reading it and comparing it to my stuff and then I'll feel bad about my writing. Which would by both oddly motivating and off putting, lol.

As a little bonus, I'll just say what I'm currently working on/planning to work on for now.

1. second chances (Drarry)

I've been writing on that one for over a year. Which is the longest I ever spend on a fic and also the longest fic I've ever worked on in total and also the one I most edited. I'm writing it for my girlfriend. I feel like I'm getting closer to the end and I will post it once it's finished.

Jkr sucks, by the way. She'd probably hate the story which satisfies me greatly.

It's a time travel au, obviously, in which Drarry was a muggle therapist after the war. The magical world doesn't respond well to the idea of therapy but that's not Draco's concern even though it should be. He just wants to atone for his sins. Being thrown back in time gives him that chance... But it also awakens deep traumatic issues while he struggles to help the good side and betray his parents and friends in the meantime. It's very analytical of his character and he suffers a lot and it's a lot of fun to do.

2. Karak'nirir- the goddess of creation (Voltron)

A Lance centric Voltron fanfic in which he is gifted the power of a goddess. I'm trying to get back into world building and well... I just really love Lance XD

3. The clockroom (BBC Merlin)

... It's on hiatus... Again. It's so hard to find the time to work on it. But I will... At some point. Probably. I hate unfinished business.

4. ... I'll probably focus on the Merthur marriage concept next. In which Arthur tries to raise Merlin's status and has Merlin learn magic in order to defeat Emrys. Cause then Merlin would be druid king and they can get married XD i want to apply some stuff I'm currently learning through "my soul has your claim" and maybe that will change how I write in the long run, too.

5. .... I should be working on a book that's publishable. Maybe feedback from professional book sellers will help me improve my work also.

By the way... Having 4 wips kills my brain. I hate it. One fic at a time. That's how I work best. It's too much for me. I'm dying. I have no ideas how other people do it.

Anyway.

Thank you for the question, anon ^^ I hope I answered it well enough XD

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #54

Journal Entry #53 // STORY INDEX

Victor

Hey, everyone.

I wanted to record something tonight to tell you that Yuri and I are okay. My last entry was kind of raw, and both of us were struggling really bad, so I figured it was only right to let you know that we came out the other side of that situation. Yuri fared worse than I did, but he's still here and that is what's important.

I'm gonna be honest, it's been a tough few days. Yuri stopped eating again, and I'm really worried he's going to end up back in the hospital if he doesn't get something more than water and soy milk into him soon. It's been doubly stressful because Fox somehow got the idea that it was his fault, and I've had to deal with that too.

The small bit of good news was that Fox understood when I explained to him that Yuri refusing to eat isn't a new thing, and it had nothing to do with him. He seemed reluctant to come back after that, though, and although I tried to encourage him to stick with us a bit longer, ultimately I told him it was fine if he didn't want to.

With one hand free, I'm able to cook, feed myself and do the majority of my own personal care, so I'm not dependent on someone else now. Yuri can at least get out of bed and take himself to the bathroom, so that's no longer an issue either. Some of the housecleaning is still a bit much for me to manage on my own, but I reasoned that the world wouldn't end if the laundry didn't get folded or the kitchen floor didn't get swept every day.

After talking it over, Fox agreed that he'd still come by every couple of days to help me do household chores, but he said he didn't want to look after Yuri any more. I wasn't happy about it, since I think Yuri still needs help maintaining his full personal care routine, but what could I do? I had to acknowledge what Fox wanted.

That might've been the end of the matter for me if Yuri hadn't acted so obviously relieved when he found out Fox wasn't going to be taking care of him any more. If I hadn’t known better, I might’ve thought something bad happened between them, but I knew Fox had been extremely careful. He never touched Yuri in any way without asking first, and he handled him like glass when he did. Sure, they’d had their disputes over food and eating, but Yuri is just as difficult at mealtimes with me and with his parents, so I didn’t see how that'd be any worse with Fox.

From what I observed, Fox had been giving maximum effort, and Yuri hadn't been making it easy for him. And yeah, I get that Yuri's in physical pain and that he's going through a lot psychologically, and I know that makes him frustrated and irritable, but I didn't think it was okay for him to take it out on Fox. I especially didn't think it was okay for him to play on Fox's insecurities. I mean, that poor guy hasn't had an easy life himself. He deserves to be built up instead of being torn down for a change.

Seriously, you guys have no idea how much I wanted to call Yuri out on that, right then and there. I'll concede that I let him get away with a lot, but I love him, and I've learned that love is just as much about helping your loved one learn and grow as it is about all the warm, fuzzy stuff. Sometimes growth is hard, and it might not feel like progress at all when you're going through it, but the end result is usually worth it.

My Grandpa Michael says love is like growing roses. You might not want to cut them back, but pruning them actually helps them get stronger. He says you've got to be careful, 'cause you also have to know when to prune them and how much to cut. And I mean, Grandpa Michael should know. He was married to my grandmother for over forty years, until she passed away, and you don't get that far without understanding what love is. Also, they grew the most gorgeous roses in Brindleton Bay together, and Grandpa Michael still tends them and refers to them as "Lydia's roses".

I haven't seen my grandfather or any of my relatives in Brindleton Bay for over two years, but I know I'll at least see Grandpa at Mom and Julian's wedding. I think he loves my mom as if she's his own daughter, and he stayed close with her and me after my dad and sister passed. At this point, none of us could imagine him not being a part of our lives and being there for all our major life events.

After the wedding, I might go back to the Bay with him for a visit. It'd be nice to spend some one-on-one time with him. We could geek out about sports, do all kinds of fancy cooking, and probably spend hours at the local fitness center. I'm sure there's a lot of maintenance work I could help him do around his place as well. Really, I just want to hang out with somebody who gets me on a fundamental level, and to take a break from all my regular responsibilities.

Oh, and maybe this is kinda off-topic, but in case you're curious, Grandpa Michael isn't my only surviving grandparent. My other set of grandparents, Isabella and Giancarlo DeLuca, are both alive and doing well. They moved back to Tartosa the summer Leo and I graduated from college, so about four years ago now. According to Nonna Isabella, they wanted to spend their golden years in the place where their lives began, which made a lot of sense to me. They immigrated a long time ago, and all their kids — my mom, Uncle Stephen and Uncle JP — were born in Canada, but although they built a life in Willow Creek and are naturalized Canadians now, I'm sure their hearts will always be Italian.

Ugh...yeah. Sorry for getting off-track there. I'm really tired, and I guess you guys have figured out by now that it's harder for me to concentrate and stay focused when I'm like this.

Anyway, back to what I was originally trying to tell you. You might be impressed to hear that I managed to hold back from lecturing Yuri about how he'd been treating Fox. If I'd confronted him about it right away, we would've ended up in an argument. I didn't think he could spare the energy to fight with me, and I can tell you that I certainly didn't have the wherewithal to argue with him. Since discretion is the better part of valour, as they say, I opted to wait for a more appropriate moment.

As it happened, however, my appropriate moment never came because his mother got to him before I did.

Mrs. Okamoto dropped in unexpectedly yesterday afternoon with some sort of soup she'd made for us, and the first thing she said after greeting me was, "Where's your friend? Is he upstairs with Yuri?"

"Um... no," I said, hesitant to tell her too much, but also not wanting to keep the truth from her. "Fox isn't here. He, um... the arrangement wasn't working out for him."

I should've known better than to hope my mother-in-law would let it go at that. "What do you mean, the arrangement wasn't working out? And didn't any of you think it would have been a good idea to tell me or Kenji that the situation had changed? It's not as if one of us hasn't been here with you every night."

"I thought Yuri was going to tell you," I said.

"Why would you think he'd take responsibility for telling us?"

"Uh... because... Like, I don't think Fox was comfortable, and Yuri wasn't very, um... diplomatic? He was sort of feeling like... uncharitable? But, I mean, if I realized he wasn't going to tell you, I would have. It was just—"

She must've noticed that I was getting flustered, because her demeanour softened a little. "No, it's all right," she said. "You're very responsible, and I know you would've told us if you didn't think we already knew."

"Sorry," I said. "I guess I should've told you anyway."

"Perhaps, but it doesn't matter now. At the moment, I'm less interested in who told me about it than I am in why it happened in the first place. Was there a problem?"

"Not from where I was standing," I said. "Fox was doing amazing, as far as I could see."

"Hmm..." was her response. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to ask Yuri about it, won't I?"

I can't say I was overjoyed when I imagined how that would go, and I questioned whether or not Yuri would even tell her the truth. I had a bad feeling he'd try to blame it on Fox when it was unequivocally not Fox's fault, and let me tell you, I definitely wouldn't have been pleased if he had done.

On the pretext of listening to an audiobook in my room, I followed my mother-in-law upstairs when she went up to talk to Yuri. I put my earbuds in, got my phone out of my pocket and laid down on my bed, but I'm sure you've probably already guessed that I didn't actually open up my audiobook app to play anything. As rude as it is to eavesdrop, I'm not even going to pretend I wasn't intending to do it. I totally was, because I wanted to see if Yuri would admit to his mother why he didn't want Fox here any more.

I eased one earbud out of my ear far enough so that it wasn't blocking sound but so it still looked like I was using it. Sneaky? Yes, but it was effective. I discovered that if I lay with my head facing the open door and didn't move around too much, I could hear most of what Yuri and his mother were saying.

They started with small talk, and I wondered if maybe she wasn't going to bring up the subject after all. But then she must've seen her opportunity when he asked her if she was planning to stay with us for the rest of the day and overnight.

I should explain, she and Mr. Okamoto have been taking turns spending the night with us since Mom and Julian and Uncle Kaz left, and they don't usually come until seven or eight in the evening. Fox would usually leave around five o'clock so he'd have time to help make dinner at home, which meant he rarely crossed paths with Yuri's parents.

"No," Mrs. Okamoto said, in response to Yuri's question. "I need to collect Yuki from school and drop her off at your grandmother's house, and then I've got to go back to the school for a parent-teacher conference. Your father's in Kyoto with Hana for a medical appointment today, but he'll be coming to stay with you when he gets back."

That was news. I didn't realize Hana was on speaking terms with her father, much less that she'd want him to accompany her to a doctor's appointment. Then again, Hana's getting really close to her due date, and maybe he insisted on going with her because he didn't want her driving. Whatever it was, I filed that bit of information away in my brain on the chance that it became relevant later.

"Oh. I was hoping it'd be you," Yuri was saying. "I wanted you to help me wash my hair. Papa always makes such a mess. He's not very good at cleaning up, and I don't want Victor to have to mop the floor. That's still too hard for him."

"I would've thought washing your hair was something your friend Fox could help you with," Mrs. Okamoto said, and the words rolled off her tongue as innocently as if she knew nothing whatsoever about Fox's sudden departure. "I'm surprised he's not here today."

"He's not coming back," Yuri said. "And he's not my friend."

"Oh?" Mrs. Okamoto contrived to sound suitably curious. "Why isn't he coming back?"

"Because Victor told him I didn't want him to."

That was a twist I hadn't seen coming. It was Fox's decision not to come back, and although It was fairly clear Yuri hadn't wanted him here and was glad to be rid of him, I hadn't expected him to tell his mother I’d said or done anything to facilitate it. He sounded so proud of it too, like he was boasting about how I'd saved him from some horrible fate. Not that I wouldn't have protected him if there really had been any risk, but that's not how it happened at all.

The way Yuri was recounting it to his mother was such a gross misrepresentation of the situation that it was all I could do to make myself stay in place and not run across the hall to interrupt. But then I remembered I'd already mentioned to Mrs. Okamoto that Fox hadn't been comfortable staying. She's a smart lady, and I admonished myself that I should trust her. She'd draw the correct inferences.

She didn't disappoint me. “Yuri, are you certain it was Victor who told him?”

“I wasn’t there when they talked," Yuri replied.

"So, you don't know that Victor asked him to leave."

"Yes I do, because Victor always makes sure I'm safe."

"I see," Mrs. Okamoto said. "So, am I to assume you were unsafe with that young man here?"

"Yes," he said.

"Did he physically hurt you, or touch you inappropriately?" she asked. "Was he unkind to you?"

There was a long silence, and it was killing me that I couldn’t see what was going on over there. Unless there was something Yuri hadn't revealed to me, the answer I was expecting to hear was 'no'.

After a minute, I caught a weak and tearful-sounding, "No, but..."

"But what?" Mrs. Okamoto prompted.

"He made me feel so awful," Yuri said. He sniffled loudly enough for me to hear it from my room, and I imagined him scrubbing tears away from his eyes with the heels of his palms, just like a toddler would do. Sometimes I find it cute when he does that, but in these circumstances? Not cute at all. "He said I need to try harder, and he wouldn't listen to me when I said I couldn't do things, and... and he was treating me like a child."

"Were you behaving like a child?"

"I don't do that."

"No stubbornness, then? No pouting or temper outbursts?"

"I don't—"

Mrs. Okamoto's next words weren't spoken in a mean way, but there was also no mistaking that she wasn't impressed with her son's attitude. "A little self-awareness wouldn't go amiss here, I think."

"Excuse me? Are you... are you implying I'm immature?" I could already hear the outrage starting to build in Yuri's voice, even though his tears. "You don't even—"

"Yuri," his mother cut him off. In the two simple syllables of his name, her tone conveyed everything; she wanted the truth and she was not having any of his nonsense today. I could easily picture her wielding that same authority in a business meeting when somebody was about to go off on a baseless rant about something. "Mature people don't throw tantrums or manipulate others as a means to an end. They communicate their needs and concerns clearly and honestly. Do you think you can do that?"

"So, you're going to treat me like a child too?"

"If you insist on behaving in that manner, yes," she said mildly. "You know what Papa says. People tend to address others according to the level of maturity they display."

Yuri made a sound of frustration. "If you aren't going to at least try to have some empathy, can you please leave? I don't need any more stress. Is that clear and honest enough?"

There was another pause, and then Mrs. Okamoto said, "I love you. From the moment I found out I was having you, I loved you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything else, and every time I think about you hurting in any way, it hurts me as well. But, I'm your mother. My purpose isn't only to love you. It's also to teach you."

"Teach me what? That I'm dishonest and immature and not self-aware enough?" "

"Yuri—"

"You might as well just say it. Is you goal to teach me I'm a terrible son and a useless failure as an adult? Then congratulations, I suppose, because you've absolutely done that."

"Okamoto Yuri, I did not come here to be disrespected by you," Mrs. Okamoto said, and no joke, I felt a little scared despite the fact that she wasn't talking to me and that I couldn't even see her.

Like, you know you've crossed a line when your mom starts using your whole name. Usually, my mom would be screaming it, often loud enough to be heard at Leo's house, four doors down the street from ours. Victor Thomas Edward Nelson, if you don't get your butt back here in five minutes, you're in big trouble!

It was the same with Aunt Millie. Leo said he knew he was gonna be toast when his mom started busting out "Leonardo Stephen DeLuca!" with enough volume to be heard from my backyard. We used to tell Ellie she didn't know how good she had it. None of us has ever heard Julian raise his voice for anything, let alone to shout Ellie's full name over half of Willow Creek.

But as much as I dislike it when my mom yells, I think if I had to pick, I'd rather have the yelling than the calm, firm voice Mrs. Okamoto was using on Yuri. It was like steel wrapped in velvet, and I'm pretty sure me and Leo would've been terrified if Mom or Aunt Millie had spoken to us like that when we were in trouble.

I half expected Yuri to apologize immediately. It's what I would've done. I probably would've been on the floor, bowing to her and addressing her as Okamoto-sama, and begging her to forgive me. We've been getting to know each other lately, and I feel like we’ve been warming to each other a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm not still afraid of her.

Yuri, apparently, did not share my sentiment.

I could tell he was still crying, but that didn't stop him from sounding as if he believed he had the stronger position. "Interesting, because I wouldn't have thought you'd come here to disrespect me in my own house."

I physically cringed at that, not just because Mrs. Okamoto's reaction was likely to be unpleasant, but also because I had no problem imagining a response with the exact same delivery coming out of Mr. Okamoto's mouth. For all Yuri's insistence that he's nothing like his dad, he kinda is, which maybe proves the theory of nature over nurture.

Part of me wanted to stop listening at that point, and I almost turned on my audiobook for real, but another part of me was drawn to the drama across the hallway.

"If you think honesty is disrespect," Mrs. Okamoto said, "then I'm afraid you've still got some things to learn."

"There's a difference between being honest and being hurtful."

"Yes, there is," she agreed. "The difference is in how you react. If someone else's honesty hurts you, then you ought to ask yourself why that is. If the truth hurts, it's usually because we don't want to admit something about ourselves."

"I don't want to have this conversation," Yuri said.

"Well, I certainly can't force you to," said his mother. "But, if you don't want to talk to me, perhaps you can discuss it with your father instead. He had to learn that lesson too, and it took nearly losing the people he loves most before he accepted it. Maybe his perspective would be more convincing."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I might've stayed in America with your uncle if it hadn't been for Victor's accident."

He sounded incredulous. "You came back for Victor?"

"I came back for you," she said. "Because I thought you might need me. But, what I'm saying is that when I left last autumn, I had absolutely no intention of returning. Or at least not until your father came to his senses."

"Came to his senses about what, exactly?"

"Came to his senses and realized that he was harming himself and everyone around him," she said. "He was trying to build a wall around himself because he seemed to think it was a way of protecting everyone, but he was still getting hurt and all he really accomplished was to push everyone else away."

"What's that got to do with me?" Yuri said.

"It has everything to do with you."

"How?" Yuri asked.

"Papa was scared and angry and frustrated about things in his life, but instead of talking about it, he was behaving like a child and taking it out on the people he should've trusted to help him get through it," she answered. "He was upset because he felt isolated, as if no one cared about him, but the way he was dealing with it was isolating him even more." Her voice was quieter as she added, "Does that sound familiar?"

There was an even longer silence than the previous ones, and then I thought I heard Yuri say, "I'm sorry."

The next thing I knew, he was pouring out the whole thing to his mother, telling her stuff that he’d never said anything to me about. Although I probably could've inferred some of it, other parts of it were a revelation, and not necessarily in a good way.

He told her how he hadn't really wanted Fox to come here, but he agreed to it for my sake because he knew I was worried about not being able to take care of him myself and because I thought it was an acceptable alternative to the home healthcare program. He endured it as long as he could, he said, and he'd tried not to complain too much because he didn't want to seem ungrateful. But he'd been struggling because Fox was encouraging him to do more and more things for himself and didn't seem to understand when he explained why he couldn't do them.

"I cried every day," he said pitifully. "I didn't want Victor to know, because he doesn't like to see me crying and I didn't want to upset him.”

"You didn’t think he’d want to know you were unhappy?” Mrs. Okamoto asked.

“It wasn’t just being unhappy,” Yuri said. “It’s a lot more than that. It’s… everything. My whole existence. It’s just… all pain, all the time, and sometimes adding one more thing is too much. But, how was I supposed to tell Victor that?”

“You’ve told me,” she said.

“You don’t look at me the way Victor does.” The words came out low and strained, as if he was trying to suppress a sob. “He… he wants to fix it, but he can’t, and he gets this helpless look. It breaks my heart, Mama. I hate being responsible for that.”

“You aren’t responsible for Victor’s feelings,” Mrs. Okamoto said. “It may seem that way, but he’s the only one in control of how he responds. Perhaps I don’t look at you the way he does because I’ve learned to accept your illness and everything that comes along with it."

"Victor knows all about it too."

"Knowing and accepting are different," she said.

I had to think about that for a minute. Did she have a point? Do I really not accept Yuri's illness?

Yes, I do know practically every unpleasant detail of it, and I know how to take care of him. I recognize that he'll always be chronically ill, and that there'll be times when he's well and times when he's really sick. But, is that really acceptance?

Maybe it isn't.

Knowing all the facts is one thing, but being okay with them is another, and I can't say I'm not resentful and angry about Yuri being ill. You have to understand, though, I'm not directing any of that toward Yuri. He can't help being the way he is. It's more like I'm resentful toward the powers of fate or whatever for causing him to suffer this much, and I'm angry because I can't do anything to change it. It's not fair, and it hurts so damn much that I can't even find words to describe how agonizing it is. Just as Yuri said, I want to fix it, but I can't, and that makes me feel defeated, powerless and so overwhelmingly sad that it's as if my heart is being crushed.

I guess it's kinda like what I went through after losing my dad and sister. I experienced all the emotions; denial, sadness, rage, guilt. I did everything I could to find a place in my mind for my grief, to make sense of something utterly senseless.

With Dad and Caroline, I was stuck on sadness for the longest time. Years, in fact, and it's only been since this past summer that I've finally come to terms with it, learning that I can coexist with it without it taking control over the trajectory of my life. It's okay to still feel lost or sad or angry sometimes, but I also understand that wishing for the events of the past to be different is futile and only causes me more pain in the end.

I'm not there yet when it comes to Yuri's illness, and I'm not sure what to do to get there. All I know is, I want to be part of the solution, not part of the problem, but I definitely can't do it on my own. So, I guess the best course of action would be to talk to my therapist about it, right? We've already discussed my challenges as a caregiver, so this likely won't be unexpected for him, and maybe he'll have some good insights to help me move forward.

It's weird, me wanting to involve my therapist. It's super weird to me that I even have a therapist, 'cause that would've been so far off my proverbial radar in the past, I probably would've laughed at anyone who suggested it. But now, I like to call it the silver lining that came out of my accident. If it hadn't been for that, I still wouldn't be seeing him, and maybe I wouldn't be making as much progress on self-improvement.

I realized I'd missed part of the conversation between Yuri and his mom when the sound of him sobbing pulled me out of my musings and back to reality. Evidently, Yuri was determined to say whatever was on his mind regardless of his emotional state, because he was getting choppy bits of sentences out between gasps for breath.

He was crying so hard that I could barely make out what he was saying, and the first thing I was able to catch was, "I hate eating. You know I hate it!"

"You need to eat, Yuri," his mother said gently.

"I know, but I don't want to."

"Why don't you want to?"

"Because it's too difficult," he said. "Fox kept making me do it by myself, but it made me feel worse, and he talked down to me as if I were a little child and I was acting out and being difficult on purpose. But... I really can't do it. I tried so hard to endure it, but I couldn't any more, and I just... I want... I want it to be... be over."

His words got almost completely lost in tears after that, but I thought I heard something about wanting to sleep forever, and about respecting his wishes, and about his whole life feeling out of control.

His mother let him cry for a bit, and then she said, "Did you tell any of this to Victor?"

"N-not really."

"Then, how did you expect him to help you or to respect your wishes?" she asked. "He loves you unconditionally and he's a wonderful caregiver, but he can't read your mind. Neither can I, nor your father, nor anyone else."

"I... I know. But..."

"You need to let us know how you feel and what you need."

"I'm tired of being weak," he said. "I'm tired of being a failure and a disappointment and... and a burden to everyone. Maybe it'd be better if I wasn't even here, because then I wouldn't be hurting everyone I love."

"Darling, look at me," Mrs. Okamoto said, and I envisioned her sitting down on the bed and cradling the side of his face in her hand. "No one would be better of without you. We love you, and we want you to be here. Do you understand?"

"You don't understand. I... I'd be better off," he said. "Mama, please... I've suffered long enough, and it's not fair that everyone else has to suffer because of me."

"We can get help for you,"she said.

"I don't want any more help. I'm trying to tell you, that's the problem. Everyone always has to do everything for me, and I don't want that. I'd rather live an independent life, or... not at all."

"Being ill and needing help are things that are entirely beyond your control," she told him. "You're not disappointing anyone, and you aren't burdening us by asking for help. What hurts us is watching you pretend things aren't as bad as they are and seeing you try to fight all alone, and finally reaching a breaking point like this."

"But, don't you want me to be independent?"

"I think you misunderstand what independence is," she said. "It has very little to do with how much you rely on others and everything to do with how you handle your responsibilities. If you can't do something on your own, the responsible thing to do is to ask someone to help you. Your independence is in your ability to make your own choices and to do what you need to do to reach your goals."

"I don't have any goals," he said. "They seem kind of pointless."

"Do they?"

"They do when I know I'll never achieve them anyway."

"What do you think you can't achieve?"

"What can I achieve when I'm like this?" he countered.

"Tell me something," Mrs. Okamoto said. "If you could make one wish come true right now, what would it be? Anything at all."

I was surprised at his answer. "Papa asked me that too. I told him I'd like to go to Sulani with Victor."

Mrs. Okamoto didn't seem surprised at all. "Could that be a goal?"

"No," Yuri said. "We're never going to be able to do it."

"Why not?" Mrs. Okamoto asked."

"Because we spent all our money on the down payment for Victor's haunted house, and once we get there, we'll be spending more money on furniture and a car and his university tuition and who knows what else."

"What if money were no object?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you told Papa you wanted to go to Sulani," she said.

"He told you that?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "We discussed it, and we also talked about it with your grandparents. You didn't have a honeymoon, and none of us gave you a wedding gift, so we decided that we'd like to pay for your trip, if you really want to go."

"What?" Yuri blurted.

That was more or less my reaction, too. I literally had to put my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from making any noise. I was shocked by the proposition. I'd like nothing more than to go back to Sulani and to take Yuri with me, but like him, I was resigned to the idea that it'd be a very long time before we'd get the chance, due not just to our finances but to his health and everything else going on in our lives.

"We were going to wait until you were feeling better, and Papa and I were planning to tell you and Victor together," Mrs. Okamoto said. "But I think this is the right time."

"Why do you think this is the right time? How is it right?" he demanded and, far from sounding pleased, he still seemed angry. "I can barely leave my bed, never mind leaving the country. I don't know if I'll even be well enough for our move. How can I think about going on a vacation?"

"I don't mean now is the right time to go," she clarified. "I mean, this is the right time to tell you. Clearly, you aren't ready yet, but perhaps you'll find some motivation to set some goals if you have something to look forward to."

"Such as?"

"You tell me," she said. "If you can't think about going on a vacation, then think about your move. What would you need to do to be ready for that?"

"Besides packing, and starting my immigration paperwork, and spending even more money on our flight?" he said. "Get better."

"And what would that look like?"

"You expect me to say eating on my own, don't you?"

"No," she said. "I don't. I expect you to tell me what your definition of getting better is."

"Being able to get up and do things for myself," he said. "Not being a drain on everyone around me and not putting all the responsibility for everything on Victor's shoulders. Not being constantly tired and stressed, and I don't know... Actually feeling there's some reason to be alive."

"What's causing you the most stress?"

"Eating," he replied, likely to the astonishment of no one.

"Is there anything that would make it less stressful?" she asked, and then added, "Something other than someone feeding you."

"Dr. Kasongo suggested tube feeding," he said. "Victor thinks I don't know he was talking to her about it. I think they were trying to keep it from me until the doctor felt like it was absolutely necessary, because they were worried I'd be upset. But, I... I might actually want that. Do you... do you think it's awful for me to want it?"

"If you'd like my personal opinion," she said, "I think that's a bit extreme. There may be something less drastic you can do before resorting to that. if you want to know whether or not it would be a good solution for you, though, I think you should speak to your doctor about it yourself."

"I don't know if I can," Yuri said.

"Of course you can," she said. "I'll come with you, if you like."

"Really? What about Victor?"

"If you'd rather have him with you, then certainly, he should come."

"No. I want you to come," Yuri said. "But—"

"You have to tall him," Mrs. Okamoto said firmly. "No more keeping things from him, all right? I think you know, marriages can't survive too many secrets, even if you believe you're keeping them for the right reasons."

"Even if I want to protect him?"

"Remember what I told you," she said. "You're not protecting him by hiding things from him. I'll come with you to talk to the doctor, but I need you to promise not to keep anything from Victor from now on. Not about this or about anything else that's upsetting you."

"Okay," he said meekly.

"And if you're worried about him keeping things from you, I'll be addressing that with him as well."

That was the moment when I stopped listening. My mind was already spinning from everything I'd overheard, both positive and negative. The prospect of getting lectured by my mother-in-law was one thing too many for my brain to process. I finally opened my audiobook and started listening just to distract myself from panicking.

Up to then, I thought Yuri and I were doing okay with our communication. Yeah, we have our problems, but I believed we were pretty much open with each other. It was jarring to view it from somebody else's perspective and to see we may have been hiding a lot more than either of us realized.

Something else to work on, I thought.

It's okay, though. We're all works in progress, so there'll always be something to do, and I'd rather know what I need to fix and do my best to make changes than to just blithely go about my business and never understand that I could be hurting someone. Like, ignorance may be bliss for the ignorant person, but not for the people around him.

Change is hard, but I think that thing about pruning the roses applies to ourselves as well as our loved ones. If I want to bloom, I may have to cut back a few of my own branches too.

[cazzyf1]

My Favourite Quotes from: Niki Lauda Das Dritte Leben

So it's been 4 years since Niki has passed now. Over a year since I became so involved with Niki's life here. It's crazy how short of a time it's been.

It's been a while since I made one of these, but as I have brought two new Niki books recently, I figured I should make this to share. The book is fully in German, which I have had to use google translate on; so there will be grammatical issues in this but for the most part, I'd say this is accurate.

Enjoy

"Only Graham Hill and Chris Amon had private planes, and they were simple propeller mills. It had more to do with sport than luxury or gaining time when they came to the races in Fleger. Once they flew from Spa to London in Graham's Piper Actec, and because I was going the same way, they took me with them. Back then, you didn't travel 20 minutes after crossing the finish line of a race, but on Monday morning. It all started with Graham complaining about a headache that morning from drinking so much at the Grand Prix party. It was raining miserably and the runway was a grass runway. We barely made it over the embankment and darted rather noncommittally into the laundry room over the canal. Hill and Amon constantly argued and yelled at each other. Hill was a captain but only had a visual pilot's license, Amon understood instruments, and I think that's where the trouble came from. I sat in the back and had no idea of ​​anything. Anyway, we ended up in London. I didn't feel like I wanted to be a pilot or have an airplane." - 8

"The impression improved when my cousin of a clear friendly tone took me in his Cessna 150 for a sightseeing flight over the Inn Valley. Everything was nice and smooth and friendly, and flying so easy. The view over both sides of the Alps suggested a direttissima between Salzburg, where I now lived, and Ferrari. I became a student pilot and I loved practicing in Salzburg-Bologna. That's how flying got a meaning." - 8

"Stay in your own house on the edge of the forest. Breakfast with Marlene. Fifteen minutes drive to Salzburg Airport, Kemetinger has already fired up the Golden Eagle, an hour later she sails into Bologna. Sante Ghedini picks me up. Two hours at Ferrari's circuit. Enzo Ferrari himself comes over from his office. We're going to Cavallino for lunch, I can do Polsk at the old man's (unfortunately very important). Another hour of testing. Off to Bologna. At half past five I walk in at Marlene's door, like someone who comes home from the office happily. To imagine that day with a scheduled airliner was impossible to fit in twice a six-hour drive: a horror." - Niki's routine

"A few years earlier I had been a hopelessly incompetent loser in high school, in my apprenticeship as a mechanic and then again at high school, and now I was playing the great analyst of Formula 1. I had a good sensorium in my butt, I could feel it Car lived, also in details." - 10

"I met Marlene in the summer of 1975. She was Curd Jürgens' girlfriend and as such the lady of the house at a party in Salzburg. She has a Spanish mother and an Austrian father, was born in Venezuela and mostly grew up there. She has a lot more Spanish than Austrian character. The name Niki Lauda meant absolutely nothing to her. Marlene was infinitely far away from racing and asked the most hair-raising questions, like a child. A few months later she definitely didn't marry the racing driver in me, she took that with her without realizing what she was getting into. As a racing driver you need naïve optimism ("nothing's going to happen to me anyway"), otherwise you wouldn't be able to get into the car at all, and Marlene was willing to believe in it just as I said she would. She was endlessly carefree, and before she knew she was right in the middle of the horror. I was 27, world champion and on my way to my second title. Before I got into the Ferrari on August 1, 1976 at the Nürburgring, Austrian journalists told me that the Reichsbrücke in Vienna had collapsed a few hours earlier. It was a strange feeling: that the biggest bridge in the city, in the whole country, could simply collapse in a second." - p11

"Frank Gardner in a Cortina Lotus had won. At the podium he put down the wreath and descended with tears in his eyes. He had just been told that Jim Clark had died in Hockenheim. Jim Clark was also my big idol, so that also affected me. What particularly bothered me about it was that it was caused by a technical defect, back then there weren't safety bolts in the rims, and if you had a puncture, the tire could jump off the rim. So Clark simply took a turn on the long straight in Hockenheim and pulled straight into the forest without it being his fault. That kept me busy for a long time." - p16

"First, there were these microscopic slivers of burned face shield (balaclava) that had been transplanted with the fresh skin I had developed an allergy to. He got 70 such things out of me in a three-day ordeal with tweezers, carefully treating everything with peppermint oil. The ears, or what was left of them, were raw flesh and painful beyond belief. Willy called the surgeon, who said: The rest of it will probably rot off as well, then the pain will be gone." Willy marched down to Lake Fuschi and dug up some roots, to which he said things like: That helped the Crusaders. As a result, I was able to sleep for the first time in three days, and for 15 hours, and two weeks later I had skin again over what was left of my ears. Then it happened incredibly quickly, also because I was so eager to return to normal life. I soon started running and strength training, and I noticed the progress every day." - p25

"Hannes was a good conversation partner in my euphoria for the future Lauda Air, which was already going through my head in 1977. He had an idea for the "style" that we wanted to develop, for our self-representation and our self-image. We talked about flying, about upcoming planes and an upcoming airline. No detail was too small for us, no fantasy too big. It "It was just fun to sand the contours of a vision. Hannes sketched a jumbo tail and painted a red L in it. This is what the logo could look like. No type of aircraft was better suited than the jumbo, because of the corresponding slant of the towering tail. However, since there was no company yet, the corporate design of the Lauda Air could initially only be applied to my crash helmet: a double red L, lightly scripted, on a white background." - p31

"In the years that followed, Hannes Rausch accompanied me to almost every Grand Prix. Of course there was also Bertl Wimmer. Bertl lived in my (Salzburg) area, worked as a salesman for motorcycles and mopeds for KTM and, through his enthusiasm for motor sports, came into contact with Walter Wolf and finally mine. Our common interests were motorcycling, flying and all kinds of nonsense, and by about 1975 we were friends. Ideally, I packed a team of four as a Grand Prix accompaniment in the Citation or the Lear Jet: Marlene and Messrs. Willy Dungl, Bert! Wimmer, Hannes Rausch (one for the body, one for the heart and one for the brain", at least according to Hannes' interpretation)." - p31

"I only passed the theory part of the exam on the second attempt in Braunschweig. For the practical part, I needed a long-range flight, so I shipped the flight instructor and examiner to the Lear in New York and then flew on to the US Grand Prix in Long Beach. Bernie Ecclestone was already waiting there, saying he urgently needed to go to Las Vegas. So I flew him there. Before I left, I flipped through the messages that Bernie had brought me from the hotel. I should urgently call Frau Maier, our housekeeper in Salzburg. In the phone box at the airport I was told: "An Buam ham S', an Buam ham S'." Our first child was born: Lukas." -p44-45

"Of course, I also drove a full Formula 1 season. When I came home from the Monaco Grand Prix, our kitchen was slightly damaged. Did the dogs behave like that?" I asked Mariene. "No," she said. I had a tantrum" She had her fit during the TV broadcast from Monaco when she saw Didier Pironi try to pass me at Mirabeau, riding on the back of my Brabham and missing my neck by six inches before slamming into the guardrail . Pironi's maneuver was so bloody stupid that you could get angry about it. But that wasn't why Marlene dismantled the kitchen. She was just so incredibly angry because she once again had to watch what she had been doing since the Nürburgring in 1976 knew exactly: That racing is idiotic. Everyone who takes part is idiots, and I, right in the middle, played a brilliant leading role: Congratulations!" and a kitchen box was due. When I got back into the car six weeks after the fire accident, she didn't stop me because she basically allows everyone every freedom, but she thought I was stupid. She thought the whole racing sport was stupid, our rituals, the rush, the heartlessness, and that you can cripple yourself. Marlene never again had a relaxed relationship with racing. My selfishness was strong enough not to let that deter me. I believed, and I do the same today, that in a partnership, too, the free development of the individual must be out of the question. If there isn't room for it, it's just not the right partnership." -p47-48

"Back then, I actually wore beige lace-up velvet trousers every day that had a burn hole over which Marlene had sewn blue fabric in the shape of a fish. I also wore a beige Niki sweater and the shoes painted by Hannes." - p51

"Gilles Villeneuve died in Zolder on May 8, 1982. I liked him for his charm and naturalness, admired his willingness to surrender unconditionally to sweet madness (which, however, had nothing to do with his death fall). In the last hours of his life I had two typical experiences with him. Thursday night at the hotel: I was about to go to bed and heard the flop-flop-flop-flop of a helicopter gone mad. It was pitch black and a searchlight scanned the area in front of the hotel, trying to sort out pylons and cables. The thing did land, it was Villeneuve's Agusta 109, a nice twin engine with retractable gear, Gilles had an immaculate Clarification: "I flew away from Nice when it was still quite light." The next day, first training, first ride. I happened to come out of box right behind Gilles and saw him in the allerer. flew out of the first curve. When we stood together later, I asked him out of genuine interest why a person would throw themselves out in the very first corner of a training session. He said: "Niki, I can't do it different." There was something in him, that simply does not allow him to drive in a calculating or cautious manner, no matter what the track (at the beginning of a training session, the ideal line is not yet sanded clean, that only becomes apparent after a number of laps) That was the last thing I heard from him heard: "I can't help it." - p61-62

"Now, sitting still on the plane, sadness, worry, anger and the burning uncertainty, of course also self-pity seeped into me: What had I done that I had to be the center of such an oversized disaster? In Kennedy I was finished, physically and mentally. I trotted to the PanAm counter, handed over my ticket. The Man looked at it, looked at me, made two dashes through, gave me the ticket and said Stand By". I hadn't bothered with the ticket before, no- had no idea I was stand by to Washington. When the PanAm man said "stand by", I didn't give a damn for the first time in six days. I thought I did like me Out of. Tilt Then again: I have to go to Washington. But how? should i cry shouldn't I cry? I was remote controlled, but the helmsman was not at the post I turned and walked back into the hall and squatted down. I couldn't do more. As if I had been beaten and can no longer hit back. I stared at the ticket without any realization. I almost passed out, I didn't care, I couldn't take it anymore. I would sit here, just sit there I couldn't sleep either. Except for race fans, no dog in America knows me, but now everything was different. - p139

"I flew from London to Salzburg to see Marlene and the children. Marlene was still completely distraught. The ten days that had passed since the crash hadn't lessened her shock. Lukas also showed concern, only Mathias was quite relaxed, listened to a lot and said he was going to play tennis." - p149 (about the plane crash)

"Lukas then came out with the fact that jokes about it were already circulating at school. For example, if you don't love your wife anymore, then send them with the Lauda Air."" -p150

"Niki Lauda's wife loves the neighbors was the headline in August 1989. With a photo (not of the neighbors on Ibiza, but of me), the report took up half the front page. The lover was not only described ("he is 33, tall, blond, blue-eyed"), but also called by name. It was the partner, now husband, of Marlene's sister Renate and one of our closest friends So they didn't bother with even a minimum of research. Since Renate was pregnant at the time, we were able to win the lawsuit against "Bild", which is otherwise hardly possible in such cases in Germany. By and large, the tabloid writes what it wants." - p240

"When the first journalist somewhere heard that I had an illegitimate child, he confronted me about it. "That's right," I said, but it doesn't help anyone if it's in the newspaper, not the child, not the mother, not the father and his family." right Okay, said the journalist and didn't write a word. Over time, others found out about it, too, and I said to them: 80 Yes, it's true, but anyway, he's known about it for a long time. He doesn't write it because he's helping me with it." They didn't write it either, and at some point quite a lot of people knew about it, at least beyond the narrow circle. None of them developed the ambition to make a particularly nice headline with the private life of Niki Lauda. Until at some point a German writer from wind and put it boldly in his newspaper, then followed short confirmations in the Austrian newspapers, but Christoph was already in kindergarten age. That's how my mother experienced it, for example. In her slightly crumpled Schönbrunner German she said: Niiiki, did that have to be?"- and never a word of it again." - p241-242

"Christoph is a bright fifteen-year-old growing up in Vienna and with whom I have little contact. We see each other about three times a year, so of course no sensible father-son relationship can develop from that. I only have one family, it stays that way, married or divorced, it doesn't matter. I have a bad conscience that it happened," and I can't get rid of it either. The situation presents itself as unsolvable in the sense of a result that could make everyone happy. I don't want to cut myself in half, and I can't see a middle ground that I could reasonably walk. Christoph grew up completely differently than the children under Marlene's and my influence. I feel the difference very strongly, but of course it's okay." -p242

"Marlene is my life person. She has uncanny strength and security, and she rests in the midst of a chaos she beautifully crafts." -p242

"I had lived with a very disciplined young lady for seven years and married Marlene within a few months. I didn't take it that terribly seriously, I just wanted to know what it's like: being married, and Marlene was exactly the kind of person who could understand it well." - p243

"When I confessed the illegitimate child to her, she was hurt but decided that if I wanted that to happen, nothing about our family should change. Of course I wanted. If we did eventually divorce, she demanded, "I'll have the kids, the dogs, the camera." So we continued this weird kind of marriage that we were both comfortable with. A relationship can only be based on how two people understand each other, and we got along well. I remained stubbornly focused on my egocentric life, racing, company, and Marlene accepted that. Normally you can only choose between family and freedom, I could choose as much as I wanted from both. I could lean my head back when I felt like it and when I felt fit I could run away and do whatever I wanted. Everyone knows that I wasn't a saint anyway. But even there it depends on what is ultimately the case remains. It's easy for me because I can decide for myself in this constellation. We do not need to discuss the responsibility for the three. If Marlene pulls the lace and says, what now?, I'm there immediately. Just: She has never pulled the lace. I know exactly the limits. And if the boundaries need to be shifted, then we'll shift them against me too. But since Marlene gives me such freedom, thank God, I also live it. But when push comes to shove, she always wins. Just as we got married, we divorced in 1991. It didn't matter and it didn't change anything. The official in Thalgau asked about the reason for the divorce. ..There isn't one, I want a divorce." "It's impossible without a reason." ..What could be a reason, for example?" ..If someone wasn't at home for six months." I haven't been home for six months." ..Are you sure?" Yes, of couse." "The marriage is divorced." On leaving, Marlene said: "The children, the dogs, the camera." I was flabbergasted. It had worked the way she always said it would. And nothing changed. Of course I took all the steps to protect her, and also signed the house in Salzburg over to her." -p244

"For five years only the very closest circle knew about it. Marlene wanted to spare the children who went to school in Hof near Salzburg the public discussion of our private lives. So we kept quiet" - p244

"Accordingly, it turned out that Lukas had nothing in mind with cars and motorcycles. He just got comfortable with cycling, that was all. I resented how he grew up with no technical spark. I had to do something. When he was about thirteen, I bought him a small motocross bike for his size. He was super excited about it, but for two months he just started the thing up in the garage and went wrrrrmmm, wrrrrmmm. No, he doesn't want to drive, he doesn't want to. One Saturday the whole family was sitting at the Schloßwirt in Anif, it was a wonderful day. I said to Lukas, let's drive home quickly, I'll show you something. On the lawn in front of our house I put him on the front of the motorcycle, sat on the back, grabbed the handlebars, showed him how to use the gas and clutch. But he only stopped in the middle of the handlebars and wasn't willing to move his hand towards the accelerator. So we drove around in the meadow, two on a small bike. It seemed like a solid hour before he finally parted his hands enough to get the gas and clutch. I suddenly jumped off. He roared like crazy, made a slow giant arc, and I had to run alongside. In the end I had to catch him because he couldn't get his feet on the ground properly. Very slowly, in first gear, he trembled through the meadow and scolded me. Anyway, he was on his way. - p246

"The next time I came to Salzburg, Lukas said: So what?" Come down with me. I'm going to go motocross." "Come down." He dressed carefully. Leather outfit, boots, fall home, the whole fuss. I stood there bored and waited for him to shake his way out. He jumped on his motorcycle and sped out of the garage on the back wheel - an image I'll never forget become. I ran to Mathias.,,What's the matter?" The little brother then told me that the day after our first trip, Lukas had gone down to the farm boys on his motorbike, and he had driven with them until he could, becoming more and more ambitious, and in the end totally stupid." - p247

"With Mathias, the result was the same, only the way to get there was much easier. He wouldn't have gotten up on his own, so I put him on the bike, said that's the gas, that's the clutch, he said yes, I know. He drove away, made a detour, came back and drove unsharpened to the garage door. ,,Are you dumb?" "I don't know where the brake is." He was fearless. Full throttle from the first second. And his brother was such a protégé. Anyway, they started riding motocross together" - p247

"If you really aspire to a motocross career, you should start just after walk school. So it was by no means too early when Lukas and Mathias, aged 14 and 12 respectively, asked for decent motocross machines for further training. Marlene had a fit, but I told her to let her go: Motocross is the hardest thing there is. You will never get ahead. There's no money to be made, the sport is just exhausting, dusty and dirty, they'll soon stop doing it." Marlene accepted and I bought the boys two 125 Hondas. They drive it really well and there is no longer any difference between the two. They are equally wild and equally good. I hope that it doesn't turn into a motocross career, and that suggests that they're jumping around like crazy out of sheer jokes and frolics. But they lack the seriousness of cardio, running and weight training every day, so I believe I think the racing bacillus will eventually suffocate in the eternal dust of motocross. Marlene has now fully embraced the kids' hobby, drives the machines back and forth, checks in between Barcelona and Ibiza." - p248

"My mother survived him by eighteen years. I didn't see her very often either, but there was always a bond and affection, maybe there was also a hidden longing for the family that had been lost so to speak. Her last days were moving. She had cancer, only wanted therapy up to a point, and then no more. Brother Florian and I took turns at her bedside for the last week and never left her alone. They were important days for me and for this last remnant of family. I think after all our mother understood that she had sons who loved her. Now only Florian is left. We had always had little contact, but after the death of our mother we became closer again. He lives his life completely differently from me, hasn't done anything in all his 46 years that I would call work, but that's by no means criticism, on the contrary, I admire him for it. He studied but didn't finish, did this and that, was always happy, and because of them Family circumstances he could also afford it." - p250

"I never had a problem with my appearance after the accident. problem That's what I look like, that's it. I therefore only had the medical technically necessary operations on the eyes and ears chen, but no plastic surgery. James Hunt, my 1976 World Cup rival, said the accident was the best thing that could have happened to me: "You finally have a face to look at." - p253

"In the meantime, an Austrian brewery had expressed interest in providing me with a Gösser"-Kapperl, green of course. Practical and unsentimental as I am, I thought five million schillings is a lot of money these days, so why shouldn't I have one green Kappl marching around?” I really didn't have any major concerns and made a preliminary contract. Then I showed up at the company with the green Kapperl on a trial basis. The employees were stunned. They thought I wasn't quite tight anymore. Lauda can't wear a green cap, he can't have any other cap but this red thing, and the fact that it says Parmalat isn't an advertising message, it just happens to be written on Lauda's cap. Of course, I have so much respect for symbols and the opinions of the employees that I allow myself to be taught. So I canceled the Gösser lecture with difficulty, wept briefly and violently over the beautiful coal and politely put the red cap back on. It will probably stay that way, I think." P254

"I had just come back from Miami, with the flu, overworked, overtired, came to the Viennese apartment next to the Hotel Sacher and suffered a heart attack. I fell to the ground, unable to move. With the utmost effort, I crawled to the phone, but who should I call? Emergency call, ambulance? It was the time of my worst argument with the AUA, and even in my fear of death I couldn't give them the triumph that the red Kappl was being carried out of the Sacher-Haus on a stretcher. So Willy Dungl, but he wasn't there. I asked for a call back, extremely urgent. Meanwhile, still on the ground, I scribbled notes for Marlene, account numbers and so on, farewell. After hours I think Dungl finally called. I'm having a heart attack, I said, please take me to the hospital discreetly. Willy and his wife picked me up, took me out of the house and straight to the general hospital, where on the Cardiac station everything was already prepared. First check: everything ok. healthy heart, as in the last pilot examination. Infinite relief, however wrong with unchanged Pains. So it could only be a misaligned vertebra, a pinched nerve, which is Dungl's specialty anyway (actually it was the fifth thoracic vertebra, I think). I'll take you straight to Gars, where I can treat you properly," said Dungl. I was dragged to Willy's car in the hospital yard. It came to me like a rocket from the subconscious Remembering Willy Dungl's car skills. ..Who's driving?" I asked, suddenly wide awake. I'll drive," said Dungl. I whimpered, "Let me drive, Willy."- p272-3

"The greatest driver personality over my 25-year span has been Ayrton Senna. The strongest, the best, innovative, extremely sensitive as a driver and as a person. He dealt with racing perfectly and with unbelievable intensity. He had everything under control and was creative in all his ideas. He was warm-hearted and friendly and inspired me as a person, although his religiosity was completely alien to me" - p291

"At the time of the 1993 Spanish Grand Prix, I tried to lure him to Ferrari. I met him in his Barcelona hotel room and told him how great it was to immerse himself in the Ferrari myth. But he didn't give a damn about myth and said he was only interested in a car that he could win races in. We didn't even get to talk about money, and in the end he probably drove for Williams almost free of charge in 1994 because he basically had to buy Prost out." - p292

Hope you enjoyed the read! When I finish the next book I'll try to get it out. Also tagging @f1yogurt