#and heaven forbid they apologize later

[medicinemane]

You can't just be like "well my chart here says" or "well science says" or "well this thing agrees with my biases so therefore it's true"

Like man, I bet I could find something agreeing with any position I wanted to take. If I couldn't it wouldn't be hard for me to make a semi professional looking graph that makes it look like whatever I want is true

Also like... who's the source man, cause on any given issue there's some I'm probably gonna toss out because of their blatant bias. Like I'm not even gonna entertain anything 'autism speaks' has to say on autism because I'm not wading through a bunch of trash to see if there's a glimmer of truth buried somewhere in it. They've blown all their credibility with me, I don't admit them as evidence anymore and nor should I

So who's your source and do they have any credibility or are they extremely biased (cause... this happens a lot)?

What's this so called study? What's this so called science? I am not really the person who can sit through a whole paper, but I can at least sometimes give them a sniff and see if the stuff they're saying seems to add up or if I'm spotting anything instantly off (cause sometimes you straight up look and go "wait a minute... you didn't even account for this")

I'm not perfect, but at least I actually think about the problems with ideas I care about. Like with nuclear I know that the lack of economies of scale means infrastructure is going to be more expensive, but I can also at least point to solar and point out that it was the same with it, but once we got wider adoption prices started to really drop

At least I can think about my point and make actual reasonable inferences and conclusions rather than just blindly screaming at everyone to agree with me or they're immoral

[thezombieprostitute]

Just needed to write something. Inspired by @navybrat817's post about being taken away so you don't have to work.

Alpha left unnamed so you can picture your own grumpy/protective man.

This was entirely written on my phone. Apologies for errors.

+++++

You've been having a rough day. Your clothes weren't fitting right, that tag kept itching your neck. Your nerves were on edge. You were certain everyone was noticing all of your flaws. Goodness knows you were pointing all of them out to yourself.

Work is only making things worse. It's turning a lot of your nervous energy into anger and frustration. Heaven forbid your boss check her own notes or your co-workers fix their own mistakes.

Worst of all, you've closed off your bond so you don't bother Alpha with everything. That source of love and support cut off because you can't return his energy today and don't want him worrying about you. You make sure to text him, assuring him it's just a bad day and you'll talk when you're both home.

Then someone steals your lunch and, for the briefest second, you send all your sadness and anger through the bond. You quickly work to get it back under control as you try to not cry on your way to the vending machines.

About 30 minutes later there's a text from Alpha, "I'm downstairs. You're going home with me." You text back that you'll be ok. That you need to finish your work day.

A minute after you send that message you get a call from the front desk. The receptionist is clearly nervous, "there's a very big, very upset Alpha here saying he's here to pick you up for lunch?"

"I can confirm he's my Alpha," you sigh. "But I've already had my lunch. Maybe send him up?" Perhaps of you can get in some physical contact it'll help both you.

The receptionist wasn't wrong, Alpha is looking very upset. And everyone in the office is steering clear. As soon as you're in reach, he's pulling you into his arms, scenting you. You're able to let go of some of the day's stress with his help.

Your boss coughs to get your attention. "Unless there's been a change in your heat/rut cycles, this behavior is not allowed. This is a workplace, not a therapy session."

Alpha stands up to his full height and your boss takes a step back. "I guess that means she'll have to find a better job elsewhere." He grabs your bag and packs the few personal belongings you've got.

"Alpha, you can't do this," you protest weakly.

"My Omega is hurting and this place is just making it worse. So yes, I'm doing this." He grabs your hand and pulls you to the elevator. As much as you want to protest, you just don't have the energy.

And, really, you don't want to stop him. You just want him to get you home so he can take care of you, protect you, and everything else your inner Omega is begging for right now.

You open up the bond again and Alpha looks at you with a smile at your feelings of relief, gratitude and love.

+++++

So who did you picture for your Alpha?

Tagging @alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[thebottomfromhell]

Hey it's me so I was thinking that how the upper-moon react when they're jealous- like some girl or guys just woke up to the reader and start to flirting with him right in front of the upper-moon

Nice to got you here, thank you for always re-bloging. I hope you like it and sorry for the wait.

Uppermooms getting jelous for gn reader. (I will use "them" for the person who started to flirt with reader.)

Warnings: Cannibalism, Death of unamed character, Self-harm (Gyutaro and his canonical violent scratching), Implied sexual content, Assault, Canon insecurity to ot's respective characters, Gyokko and Douma are their own warning, Torture.

Gyutaro:

He knows when someone is about to flirt, you know where he lives. He can tell when you are going to approached, so he leaves before that happens as he scratches his face. He seems downhearted when you find him after rejecting the other person, and he refuses to talk about it. The next day he bahaves as normal, but you still try to see what is wrong.

When you tried to talk to him, Gyutaro scratches himself, hard. It's enough to tear skin and make him bleed. "NeEeEe, just cut it out! Go with someone that is not as ugly and disgusting as me! Neee! You can have anyone so stop nagging me, ne..." It's inpossible to comfort him, Gyutaro is convinced that is just matter of time before someone else can take your attention from him. You try everything, but he doesn't believe that he can compete with whoever flirts with you.

Again, he easily acts as always later on when you drop the subject and he doesn't act upon it ever, but he is still jealous and bottling it up. He is resigned and doesn't see reason to do anything as long as you fon't bother him.

Gyokko:

Most of all, Gyokko is offended. How dare them to flirt with his darling in front of him? The disrespect! Second of all, he kills them. Easy as that, he doesn't ask questions or even react beyond that. Just a gasp, some few seconds to get even more offended and then he summons tentacles for them to torture that person.

After that, with the agonizing from behind as the tentacles squeeze, pull and twist limbs, breaking bones and ripping flesh, he just starts complaining to you, similar as if he had a bad experience at WalMart. "Can you believe it? They acted as if I wasn't even there! There is no respect anymore!"

Besides that, he understand that it's not your fault and doesn't take it out on you, but he is going to complain for hours straight. And heaven's forbid he remembers it later when talking with someone else, because he will spend hours complaining again. "Don't interrupt me, I'm not finished. As I was saying, it was insulting! How dare they?" And there is no way stopping it.

Sekido:

If Sekido is always angry, how could you explain how he's feeling now. Livid? Not enough. Furious? Not enough. There are no words to describe his rage, except one phrase. "You're jealous..." you say incredulous as he pants after having stabbed the person who was flirting with you with his staff.... plural. There are like 14 still electrified, five on the chest and stomach without fully going in to not pierce organs and the one he just killed him with, the head.

"Don't say that crap, they just made me angry!" He tries to explain himself, but... this is a lot for only "being angry" "Why did they have to flirt with you?" He mutters under his breath, he is still mand but doesn't want to take it out of you.... yet. He will if you become too annoying. You just let it be because after what you just saw you don't want to be beaten up by Sekido.

It passes after a while, and he even apologizes... for the wrong reasons... "Sorry for causing an scene. I was just so angry! I'll try to be more discreet next time." Still, you take it and shrug, there is nothing you can do anyway, he would not have stopped even if you asked.

Karaku:

Karaku is a chill dude, very relaxed. He can't get jealous, can he? "Oh, we are flirting with Y/N? Well, you had your turn already, my friend. Now is mine, so get lost." He is still chill as he throws himself over you, passing his arm over your shoulder and getting his face just inches from yours. He proceeds to flirt and rizz like the sex god he is, not caring if the other party is still there or not. "Babe, do ya like it when strangers flirt with ya~? Totally deserve it, ya know? Cuz you're so hot and cute one just wants ya~."

He really is chill about it, it's not fake or repressed. He is ok with others flirting with you, what he is not ok is others going around thinking they have a chance. "But they must know you are mine, ya know? Should we give them a show for them to realize it?" He kisses and licks your face.

"KARAKU!" You scream, face red because of how shameless he is as he grabs his own pants. Once he heard you Karaku starts laughing, only to start teasing you. "Sorry love, you're right. I'll leave some for the bedroom.~!"

Urogi:

"GET OFF MY Y/N!" Urogi attacks that person the second you make eye contact with him, taking it as a permission and an ask for help from your part. He is ok with people talking to you, but flirting? "Y/N IS MINE!" He takes them to the sky, grabbing them by his feet to them give a sonic scream once they are 200 feet high and drop them.

Then back down he stabs them with his claws. Once they are finally dead he brings the corpse to you (the eyes are missing, and you know he ate them. But he gor hungry, ok?) "Did I do good? Y/N, did I do good? I protected you, so I deserve a reward, right?" If he was a dog instead of a bird he would be wiggling his tail happy and proud, you can basically feel him shining. C'mon, how are you supposed to scold that?

"Yes, you did good. But don't do it again, ok?" He lunges over you to hug you joyfully. "Yay! Does this mean I can eat them? You don't mind?" Like a dog, he asks permission. And they are dead anyway, so there is nothing that should stop it. So you neither don't look at Urogi while being flirted or put a good poker face."Yummy!"

Aizetsu:

"I'm feeling sad." He tells you, tugging weakly your arm, pouting. "Y/N, I'm sad. Can I please have a hug? Please?" The person who was talking to you looks slight offended, not only for being interrupted, but the fact you switched all your attention to those sad eyes beghing for your attention. How were you supposed to not cuddle him?

Aizetsu smiles a little at them, who were flirting with you, just before burrying his face into you, arms wraped in a hug. He knows what he is doing. He gets needy whenever he gets jealous, but instead of having an outburst Aizetsu used his sad puppy eyes on you and makes sure that you only look at him besides showing the other party who is the one you answer to.

There are times he makes himself look so pitiful that you don't even notice that he isn't sadder than usual, he just wants you to stop talking with other people. "Thank you, I really needed. Sorry for being a bother." What a baby.

Nakime:

You didn't even know Nakime could get jealous. But now you just saw her opening a door in the floor to drop someone into her castle only because they told you some pick-up lines. You know you are not going to be seeing them again... ever. If she just send them away, killed them or just trapped them in her fortress, you have no idea.

If you bring it up with her, she plays dumb, even if there is no denying that it was her biwa, her castle, her demon blood art, her. "I don't recall doing so. Are you ok, though? They seemed like a bother." She will speak soflty and gently, smiling a bit to you. That is so scaru you don't push the issue.

At the end you both act as if nothing happened, but she will be doing it again without shame or guilt. She always knows, so forget having flirty people in your life.

Akaza:

Akaza has always been protective, not liking when others get near since he is forever paranoid something bad will happen if he isn't there. In other words, he is easy to make jealous. "Y/N IS NOT INTERESTED YOU PIECE OF-" he goes off to attack inmediately, and it just takes one uncomfortable look in your face for Akaza to kill them. But at least he kills them rather fast instead of torturing them.

"You didn't need to go that far." You try and get him to apologize easily. He was too fast for you to be able to do anything about it, but he would have stopped if you told him. "It's just that we are together. We are together and it makes me mad when others don't understand it ot let us be." He answers honestly. Akaza still understands that you can't control other people's actions so he would never take it out on you.

On contrary, he is the one to comfort and spoil you after it to apologize his outburst. He is usually very relaxed with you, so it was a bit scary, still he won't be doing it again unless (he will only attack if you are being hurted).

Douma:

Douma is bad at feelings, bad with his own feelings, that you already knew. But he does understand the desire of others respecting distance or possesions (not that he ever cared), he would not like others taking his fans or his food away, for example. It's a similar sensation when they try to convince you to go un a date, even after you already said no several times. "Understand already that I don't want anything with you!"

Douma doesn't act, at all. He doesn't even know what of all of the situation he is against. If he dislikes anything that person, if he dislikes your actions or their actions, if he dislikes how tired you look, or if he dislikes how repetitive it is the scene, he doesn't know, so he can't act upon it right away. He just knows he doesn't like it.

That doesn't stop him from killing that person, who was still part of his cult, and eating him greedily. He still doesn't understand it, but it's definetely better. It could be that his stomach is full, it could be that they are gone, it could be that he just did something good and let them have an eternal life inside him. "Y/N, if something like this happens ever again, please tell me. I will deal with it."

Kokushibou:

Kokushibou is petty, but really petty about it. When he sees you being flirted by someone else he just... stares. And stares from afar, blank face yet you can see in his eyes both the yearning and resentment... x3. Then the second you look at him he looks any other way, and if you try to make a step towards him Kokushibou will basically run away. And then starts to avoid you. CAN HE GET ANY MORE PETTY?! He can, actually. He is yet to start making poetry about heartbreak, the one you catched him doing when you were fibally able to get close and talk to him after two weeks.

"Why do you let them speak to you like that? It's inappropriate." Well, it's not like you can do anything but reject their advances, like you did. But number one here is very insecure, so the fact that others flirt with you scare him and he dislikes that. "Kokushibou, please. You know I love you, and only you." But as a good lover you start to list why you like him and think he is better than everyone else. He becomes shy and runs away again.

But at least, once he gets over the outburst of his insecurity, is over is easy to reasure. Besides, apart from being a bit rude and shy, he doesn't hurt anyone.

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Twisted Love Part 7

Loki x reader

Pairing: Loki x Wife reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, language, anxiety, panic attacks, if I forgot anything please let me know!

Summary: Loki finds out what you have been up to.

“I’m wet”

“…..”

What the hels did you just say…!?Out of all the things?!?

“Yes I can see that… and the reason you are standing here looking like a banchsnep is because?”

“W-Well um.. I was out taking a little walk and came across this poor creature clinging to a branch in the river…”

Lokis eyed widened and his head tipped towards you “River? Forgive me I don’t believe I quite heard you right”.

You shifted your feet, “U-um yes he was struggling in the river..” you said barely above a whisper.

“You- what were you thinking?!” Oh great, he was angry now. Dammit you didn’t think this far ahead, but it’s not like you could ignore a dying animal.

“I-I…it was going to die Loki…” you felt the corners of your eyes begin to burn. The adreline having worn off and now you were in trouble. Your body was shivering and you felt terribly exhausted.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous thundergapes river is!? Why didn’t you have your guard go rescue it? Speaking of I’ll need to have a word with your guard because clearly Asgards finest need a lesson on common sense”.

Your eyes shifted to the ground, avoiding his gaze.

You could feel the tension rise even more when it dawned on him why you looked even more ashamed. “You went alone?? Do you have a death wish?! Do you know how many dangerous creatures are out there-“ he was about to scold you even more until his eyes caught sight of a single glittering tear drop from your eye to the ground.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He was mad yes, more than mad actually. But he did not want you to cry.

He took a few moments to calm himself.

With a deep sigh he stepped forward, slowly this time and spoke in a softer tone. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. “Next time please be more careful, and from now on if you wish to go out no one is forbidding you but you shouldn’t go alone.” He said the last part with finality.

“I understand… forgive me”

He hated how saddened your tone was.

“As long as you understand there’s no need to apologize. I’ll leave so you can bathe.” You nodded shuffling from one foot to the other. He knew you must be freezing so he didn’t delay exiting the tent.

“Thank you Loki…” he paused opening the flap. He nodded simply over his shoulder and disappeared.

He felt better when you didn’t stutter.

A short while later you found yourself immersed in a steaming heaven. It was nice to draw your own bath for once. You always felt so bad when Adessa did it although she insisted on it.

After thoroughly cleaning yourself you slid on an emerald silk robe and called the wolf over to you.

He came bounding happily and you had to scramble back to avoid getting wet when he suddenly jumped in the tub.

“No wonder you were in the river you little fish, so brave hm?” You smiled scrubbing at his now bubbly fur.

“You know you’ll need a name? How about Baldur? Since you’re my brave little wolf.”

You continued scrubbing off the layers of dirt and grime and as you did your eyes began to widen.

He wasn’t a brown or gray wolf like you had assumed…

No, once you got past several layers of hardened mud you saw the pure white fur of a very special breed of wolf. And when you lifted its tail, your suspicions were confirmed…The very same breed this whole hunt was for…

Oh hels

**********************************************

They wouldn’t hurt a cub would they? No surely not…

You contemplated worriedly as Baldur slept soundly in your lap. Silver tail tucked under him comfortably.

Maybe you’d have to sneak him back out to keep him safe but if he was all alone how would he survive?

Perhaps Loki could help, or Adessa when she gets back.

You thought back to when Loki was scolding you. You didn’t like making him upset. Actually you didn’t like making anyone upset however it felt worse with Loki somehow.

You were grateful he didn’t seem too upset after he noticed you crying, although you were a bit embarrassed to be seen like that.

You wondered how the hunt today went. It saddened you greatly that they were going to kill such a beautiful creature.

“May I enter?” You straightened up hearing Lokis slightly muffled voice outside the tent.

“Yes”. Loki entered swiftly, still clad in his armor and you felt guilty that he had to delay changing and cleaning himself because of you.

“Shall I draw you a bath?” Your old habits of serving slipped it seemed and you noticed the surprise on his face.

“There’s no need, I’ll call for a servant” you nodded, feeling a bit dumb you had asked.

He stepped forward eyeing the sleeping creature.

“How is the little runt?”

“He’s alright I think, after a bath and some food he seemed full of energy…Well before he wore himself out chasing a fly around the room and now he’s just fallen asleep.” You stroked his head lovingly.

“What do you intend to do with it?” He tilted his head.

“Well he was all alone, I don’t think he’ll survive if I send him back…”

“Do you wish to keep it?”

Your eyes shot to his in hope, “C-can I??”

“If you wish, I have no qualms. As long as the mutt stays away from my leather boots.”

You smiled at that.

“Thank you, I promise he won’t cause any trouble.” You move to stand off the bed to set Baldur on a pile of furs but cry out and stumble suddenly when you feel a sharp pain in your ankle.

Loki is quick to steady you with two arms firmly holding you.

“Easy, easy, here”.

You half set half toss Baldur on the bed and allow Loki to help you sit.

You panic slightly when you see him kneel on the ground.

“I-I must’ve twisted it or something, I’ll be fine“ you try to shuffle away but it’s not like you had much room to go.

You hold in an eep when he cups the back of your ankle and brings it up.

“L-Loki, really it’s fine!” You felt heat rush to your face.

“Some would say a bleeding foot is cause for concern..” he turns your ankle slowly looking at is from all sides.

“B-bleeding?”

He nods before releasing a sigh. “You probably cut it on the rivers rocks.” You felt a pang of guilt but that was quickly overtaken by curiosity when you noticed Loki’s fingers emit a golden light.

The stinging started to subside and within seconds the pain was gone completely. Loki conjured a roll of bandaged and for the millionth time that day you were taken by surprise when he wrapped your foot with gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Loki you don’t have to bother- I can do it”

His eyes snapped up to yours and you gulped.

“My seider won’t heal the wound however you shouldn’t feel pain from it any longer” you nodded.

He guided your foot back down before rising from the floor.

“Thank you…” you don’t know why….you definitely weren’t afraid but… your heart couldn’t seem to stop beating when your eyes met his.

“How was the hunt?” You asked as you soothed Baldur back to sleep.

“Unsuccessful unfortunately, I was hoping we would be able to get it over with sooner but perhaps we’ll have better luck tomorrow.”

You hummed in response.

You watched as Loki rang the magical little bell that summoned a servant and watched him conjure a larger privacy screen.

How lucky magic users are..

**********************************************

Later that night Loki had gone out again somewhere while you sat contemplating what to do with Baldur.

The creature in question was currently entertaining himself chasing a little ball on the floor.

“Baldur shall we go to the grass for a bit?” The last thing you needed was him pooping on the furs. You promised Loki he wouldn’t be trouble after all.

You grabbed the biggest cloak you could find and snuggled him to your chest.

Quietly you lifted the flap of the tent, satisfied that no one was paying attention you swiftly made your way to a secluded spot behind one of the large carriages.

“Alright boy, go on” you set Baldur down and he tilted his head at you.

“Cmon use the grass… no not roll over…Baldur no come here look-*sigh*” this might take awhile….

Finally after Baldur got his fill of chasing a butterfly and rolling in the grass did he finally do his business.

“Good boy” you ruffled the fur on his head. “Shall we go now? It’s quite late, I don’t want anyone to worry.” You moved to pick him up when he suddenly darted away from you.

“No Baldur it’s not time to play- come here- no- agh- please stop-“ Baldur was having the time of his life with his front lowered to the ground and bum shaking thinking this was all a game.

“Baldur wait don’t go that far-“

*snap*

“B-Baldur!”

Suddenly the pup was squirming in the air being held by the scruff. The figure who held him stepped out of the darkness of the treeline and you felt a cold panic overtake you.

“Well well well, what do we have here?”

“L-Let him go Mathis...”

***************************************************

Part 8

What’s this? Two posts in one week!? Who am I??😂

Thank you so much to all my lovely readers. Your comments bring me soooooo much joy and motivation to write more. 💕

@oceanmermaidwitch

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[iwas-princess]

hey! submitting a request bc my bday is today !!

anyways i love your writing so i was wondering if you could please write a fic where y/n is getting followed by a guy and she goes up to the first guy she sees, atsumu, and is like omg babe! like pretending he's her bf so that she can get away from the creep, and bc atsumu,,, is well himself he initially pushes her off assuming shes a psycho fan, when he realizes the situation he obv pretends to be her bf and when the guy leaves he realizes y/n is so pretty but when he tries to ask for her number she like gives him a disgusted look, thanks him, and leaves

the next week hes at a red carpet event with the team and all the cameras leave them and go somewhere else (to y/n) and he asks like whos this "y/n" everyone's chanting abt??? and everyone on the team is like the yn??? how do you not know her?? famous writer/ceo yn?? and then he goes to see what she looks like and he realizes... its the girl from last week.. they end up interacting and start on a better note ,, so fluff at the end pls

this is so long but this idea has not left my mind for the past couple days thank you so much if you choose to write it <3333

happy birthday, sweetheart ! i hope you have a great day and get the presents you want. i changed it up just a ting but, so i hope that’s alright.

atsumu miya • my night in shining armor

“hey, um, are you busy?”

the sudden frantic sound of your voice alerted atsumu, causing him to drop his phone onto the floor of the dirty subway station.

you apologized hurriedly as he hastily picked up his phone, his earbuds being tugged out of his ears and shoved to his sides. he’ll listen to the rest of the game highlights later, he decides.

“not really. but, i don’t feel like giving out any autographs, so please leave me alone-“

you scruched up your face is disgust, your eyes looking him up and down judgmentally, which bruised his ego just a slight bit.

“um, yeah- no. i need you to pretend to be my boyfriend because some creep-“

atsumu chuckled dryly, and if you hadn’t already grown irritated with his confidence, you would have thought the sound was delightful.

but he was laughing at you.

“i’m gonna stop ‘ya right there, sweetheart.” he leaned forward, his strong arms resting on his knees at he spoke. “look, if ‘ya like me all that much, just say so. but, i can’t ‘pretend’ date ‘ya to impress your shitty friends, m’kay?”

you were flabbergasted, your mouth agape at his audacity. you had never been spoken to like that so shamelessly, not even by the pricks on corporate who used to hate your guts because heavens forbid that a women make a name for herself. your eyes narrowed, and you had just the speech that you were going to give this asshole until a familer uncomfortable face turned the corner behind him.

you gulped, and out of pure instinct, you grasped onto his msby sweat jacket.

“hey-“

“please— just fucking go with it. i’ll even give you a kiss.” you hissed quietly, your grip unconsciously tightening on his bicep as the strange man neared you.

“what are ‘ya gripping me so tightly for? what are ‘ya? some kind of crazed fan?”

your eyes rolled, already tired of the volleyball player’s company and praying that he goes along with your safe plan so you could just go home.

“sure. all explain everything when he,” you nudged his muscular chest lightly, taking note of how firm he was. “leaves. now, please just shut up and pretend you love me so i can go home safely.”

‘safely’

the word rang in his empty head continuously, like a echo of tragedy yelling into a serene cave. it finally clicked inside of his head.

you were in danger, and whoever this man was, scared you.

he puffed his chest, stifling back a cocky smirk as his large hand slid across your coat-clad back, pulling you close in a loving embrace to his hip.

you had to fight back to eye roll that you threatened to give him. of course he would over do this, any man in his situation would. sure, he put on a rocky front by pretending to have no idea who you were, but eventually he collapsed— like they always do.

the stranger’s eyes locked with yours, the dark look in his pupils caused your grip on the other strange man to tighten out of fear. atsumu noticed both the hold and way your breath caught in your throat as fright took over you. he had no clue who the hell you were, but suddenly felt protective over you.

he pulled you closer to you, whispering a very quiet ’i’ve got ‘ya.’ in your hair for reassurance, which oddly helped your body melt slightly into his.

his heart skipped at the feeling.

“hey, man. would you mind if i borrow her really quick? we have some…” the odd man eyed you up and down hungrily, no doubt the his intentions lingered on his scarred face. “important business to discuss.”

atsumu scoffed, hugging you impossibly closer to his side to comfort you even the slightest bit. his calloused fingers tightening around your sides before his thumb began to rub soothing circles.

“nah, sorry man. i’ve got my girl all to myself finally, been waiting all night.” he faked a large grin before turning his attention back down to you, staring down at you eyes to creat an intimate illusion.

might as well put on a show.

“wait-“ the man stepped back, stunned as he looked between you two observantly. “you two?”

‘oh shit.’ you thought. ‘this is going make the headlines and i don’t even know this guy. he’s not ugly at least, and his body feels nice and strong. it’s not like i’d have a dating rumor with some weirdo, at least.’

atsumu felt his stomach drop at the man’s accusation. if his fangirls thought he had anything going on, they would absolutely just die.

but, like the strong man he is, he kept his head high.

“yup, this is my wonderful princess. beautiful, isn’t she?” he gave your side a squeeze, for show of course. but it still didn’t fail to make your heart leap.

the strange man in front of you quirked an eyebrow at the msby’s setter’s enthusiasm, his stomach burning with jealousy. he turned his attention to you once he realized that he hadn’t heard a peep from you.

your blood went cold as his eyes locked with yours once more, the malicious intent still holding strong in his eyes.

“huh.” he scoffed, his dark irises lustfully looking at your chest and checking out the broad outline of your breasts through the heavy winter coat you adorned.

atsumu stiffened at the sight. this random stranger just checking out a lady so shamelessly made his blood boil.

“hey.” he hissed. “do ‘ya know who i am, buddy?”

his eyes turned to slants, the look on his once ecstatic face, now changed into red hot anger at the random’s man’s filthy behavior.

the man sputtered back at the volleyball player’s harsh tone, but held his pride high.

“of course i know who you are. who doesn’t?”

‘me, apparently.’ you thought.

your arms snaked around his broad waist, attempting to seem as if you were calming him down in your own secret language of love.

the action caused atsumu’s stomach to tighten. he had had female affection, plenty of it, but this seemed different. more loving and safe, not like the countless sexual encounters he so often experienced.

“well, then ‘ya’ll be wise enough to give me and my pretty princess some space, yeah?” atsumu hugged you closer to him, if it was even possible at this point, before glancing down at you for approval. you offered him a gentle smile to continue.

the other man scoffed, offended that you would choose atsumu miya over him— but who wouldn’t?

“yeah, whatever.” he grumbled.

giving him a cocky nod goodbye, the blonde lead you away, his arm wrapped tightly around your back as he ushered you out of the subway.

“thank you. so much. you have no idea how thankful i am for that-“

“the pleasure is mine, pretty lady.” he interrupted, his flirtatious personality leaking through the cracks of his once bruised ego.

he was healed from your past blow at him, the envious look on the strange man’s face as he walked away with you on his arm was enough to keep him going for another week.

you smiled to yourself.

“well, thank you anyway. you put on quite a good show back there… are you an actor? you’re obviously famous, i’ve pieced that together myself.” you asked, your voice growing quite at the last sentence.

he hesitated before answering, his feelings hurt by you yet again.

“ ‘ya seriously don’t know who i am?”

your walking stopped, halting to stare up at the man you had just met no more than five minutes ago.

you didn’t realize how much you didn’t notice about him; his blonde hair that hid away his brunette undercut, the bags underneath his hazel eyes from lack of sleep and too much physical activity, the fine line of his lips that were naturally stretched to a cocky smirk, and the very very broad shoulders that carried him so confidently.

this man was gorgeous, no mistake about that and if the circumstances were different, you would have asked for his number and invited him to dinner.

but, he was different. he seemed way too full of himself to allow you to have his number, major ceo or not. he seemed like the type to only go for fragile damsels— which wasn’t too far off from the situation— who flirted with him and fangirled whenever he so much as breathed around them; not a woman like you.

your dating history hadn’t exactly been easy, especially since you were one of the most powerful ceos in japan. men found your power and intelligence to be threatening, and ‘ruined their masculinity’ so, you hadn’t quite figured out how the whole dating scene worked for people of status like you yet.

“n-no, i don’t. i’m sorry.” you apologized, sincere and soft.

he shrugged it off, pretending as if your words didn’t just gut through his ego like a clam knife.

“it’s no biggie. i don’t really know who you are either, to be fair, princess.” atsumu teased.

your heart stopped at the nickname, your palms suddenly becoming sweaty and cheeks flushing. but, somehow, you felt relieved that finally for once someone didn’t recognize you.

“i-i’m y/n.”

you silently prayed that he hadn’t noticed the name from literally everywhere, but oddly enough, at the same time you hoped he had.

perhaps he’d trust you more and offer you a ride home or something of the sort.

but what if he felt totally intimidated by you and reacted as the many other men in your life had?

instead, he smiled widely and stuck out his other hand, offering a friendly shake.

“pretty name for a pretty girl.” he winked. “i’m atsumu, miya atsumu.”

he could have swore that stars inhabited themselves in your eyes, and they twinkled every time you looked up at him. your smaller arms clung onto his broad wait, hoping the he could promise you safety and protection. he had just met you and already found himself adoring you.

you offered him a kind smile back, flustered at the compliment he gave you but taking his much larger hand in your own and giving it a soft squeeze.

even his hands felt strong, like they could lift the weight of the world off of you shoulders if you asked.

the both of you stayed paused in the middle of the empty subway station, hand in hand and arms snaked around each other’s waists as you stared into each other’s eyes for the very first time.

he was beautiful, you thought. like a model. he had to be a model. if not an actor, a model for sure. or maybe an idol, you’ve seen plenty of japanese kpop idols, perhaps he was one and just visiting his home.

but you, man, did atsumu think you were beautiful? he couldn’t stop the tug on his heart strings every time you blinked up at him, a polite smile on your lips as a greeting. you deserved to be treated like a princess, he thought. just like he had began calling you moments before.

after a few silent moments, you began to feel awkward as the both of you gazed at one another— like a couple in love.

you cleared your throat at the thought.

“well, i should be getting home. my dog is due for a long awaited walk.” you giggled, letting your arms fall to you sides and break all physical contact with atsumu.

his smile fell slightly at the loss, your enchanting perfume filling his nostrils one final time.

“oh- um, yeah. ‘ya probably should go on home. i’ll walk ‘ya, if ‘ya’ll let me.”

you shook your head softly at his offer.

“no, i’m sure i’ll be fine now. i usually only get one creep a week, so this’ll be good for a few days.” you chuckled. “and i’m sure i’ll wake up to a dating scandal tomorrow.”

he chuckled, agreeing that the both of you would most likely be a headline in the morning.

and he’ll be in deep shit with his pr manager.

but he couldn’t care less about that right now, all that mattered was getting this pretty girl home safe and snagging her number.

he planned to take you out next week, to a real nice fancy dinner and treat you like a princess. hopefully, get another date after that and another one.

“ya sure? it’s no big deal-“

“i’m fine, thank you, atsumu.” you cut in.

he smiled tightly, and nodded. you took the moment of silence to wisk yourself away before you caught yourself up in a situation that you had gone through one too many times.

“well, i’m going to walk away now.” you announced. “thank you, again. i’ll keep you in my thoughts, miya atsumu.”

with that, you walked the other direction, power walking away from the kind man that you’ll never forget.

“wait!” he called out behind you. “i didn’t get..” before he could finish his sentence, you were already out of his sight, and lost in the crowd of rush hour. “your number.”

people bumped into him unapologetically, and it only took a few seconds before fans started to crowd all around him, blocking off any sight of you.

—

“y/n! y/n, over here!”

you turned your head over to the left, allowing the paparazzi on that side of the barricade to get better photos of you.

your famous grin was plastered on you face, your signature lipstick shade painted on your lips flawlessly and attracting the attention of nearly all of the reporters.

“y/n, is it true that you and miya atsumu are dating?” one questioned, shoving a microphone in your face rudely and impatiently awaiting your answer.

if there was anything that you learned from countless dating rumors, it was that you should never confirm nor deny an accusation.

if you say ‘no’, all of the creeps who once used to follow you around, will start back up again and you were sure that this time you might actually get in terrible trouble soon. the harassment from those cruel individuals had just halted, mainly because most feared the large man who was reportedly ‘your boyfriend’.

if you say ‘yes’, a hoard of angry fans will troll you and both of your management teams would be very displeased. even, if it were true.

so, you stuck to your favorite trick in the book.

“where did you get that information?” you chuckled, looking around the large flock of attention-hungry reporters and paparazzi, eager for you answer.

the reporter smiled nervously, her hands sweaty and shaky as she tried her best to indirectly give you an answer.

“w-well, you know, the articles are floating all over right now, miss. y/l/n. surely, you must know of them by now.” she gave her camera crew a reassuring look, as if the man behind the large camera set was anxious himself.

you smiled and nodded.

“yes, i am very aware of what people are saying.“

this answer wasn’t enough for any of the gossip starved reporters, because as soon you finished your sentence, they all gave you a awaiting look.

you sighed softly. you hated pulling this, it seemed as if the answer always revealed itself from the statement, but you found yourself backed into a corner.

“i’m going to have to disappoint all of you and say ‘no comment’ for now.”

most of the reporters groaned, but others smirked to themselves and scribbled their next article onto their blank notepads.

this’ll be great.

“princess? is that you?”

your heart stopped beating at the sound of that oh so familiar voice. you hadn’t been able to get it out of your head for a week now and the refreshing sound of it was so calming in a time like this.

but, the timing was awful.

“oh my god! did you all just hear what he just called her?” the woman gasped, gaping proudly at the camera in front of you both.

the other reporters gasped in delight, their greedy minds bursting with new article ideas.

you could picture the headlines now.

‘big three ceo, y/n y/l/n, and major professional athlete miya atsumu share an intimate moment on red carpet.’

bleh.

you turned around, stunned as your widened eyes set on the setter. he cleaned up good. real good.

he beamed at you, a large smirk growing on his face before he embraced you in a tight hug.

his face found the crook of you neck, nuzzling in close to you ear before whispering.

“i’ve got ‘ya. just go with it.”

even the way he whispered sent shutters down your exposed spine.

his hands sprawled across your bare back, absentmindedly running a finger along your spine.

you gasped.

“atsumu! not here!”

hey, he said just go with it.

he chuckled into your cheek, giving you a quick peck.

“just like that, princess. yer doing great.” he whispered against you, praising you for your last outburst.

people began to surround you two now, crowds upon crowds circled your conjoined bodies, his sleek black suit and your ruby red dress making quite the impression already.

he pulled away to look at your face, but spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“had to come see my girl while i was here. it would be cruel if i didn’t, don’t ‘ya think?” he called out to the audience.

hundreds of cameras flashed and captured the ‘loving moment’ between you two.

oh yeah, you both are for sure making headlines tomorrow and for the rest of the month. it’ll be all anyone talks about, you were absolutely sure of it.

why was he doing this? he doesn’t seem to be in dire need of an excuse…

he patted you in the top of you head gently, before leaning in and giving you cheek a peck. the crowd went ballistic, shouting hoorays and gasps as cameras flashed even more now.

“you two are official now!” the reporter squealed, proud that she of all news outlets captured this whole interaction on live tv. “so how do you-“

“sorry, darling, i’ve gotta go. my team is waiting fer me. but,” he leaned in once more, capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

your mind exploded, butterflies dancing all around your internal organs as your hands took his.

but, something grasped your fingers as they entered his right palm. he slipped it into your hand, sliding it between your fingers. you could tell it was a small piece of paper, but couldn’t depict what the importance of it was.

he pulled away, no doubt smirking at the way the audience went even more crazy, but winked when you glanced down at your conjoined hands fleetingly.

“my number.” atsumu whispered under his breath, gentle enough that only you could hear before letting go of your hands and waving the stunned crowd goodbye.

you stood there, shocked and excited.

you hadn’t even exchanged an hour worth of conversation with that man, and now the both of you are reportedly dating. great.

your mother will be so happy to hear about this one…

[astrae4]

nothing changes (except i’m being fr) | k. younghoon

pairings — kim younghoon x reader

genre — full angst, hurt no comfort

warnings — all pain, miscommunication (more like none lmao), idk just trauma dump…

note — Hi everyone, I’m back. I apologize for my long hiatus and coming back in not the best condition too on top of that… but I do hope you enjoyed reading my entry for @deoboyznet’s love letter event. Thank you for waiting for me, I really appreciate it.

more works — navigation | tbz!masterlist

I sat on the frigid cobblestone floor. My satin dress was deemed unimportant as it sweeped the dirt and dust on the floor, its owner without a care in the world about it.

Beside me sat an uninvited, young man, dashing and suited to the nines. He was a stranger, that was for sure.

It was funny—one could even say ironic—however, for once in a memory long locked in my head, ( heaven forbid it resurfaces so long to not disturb my appetite ) I knew everything about this man.

I knew of the way he liked his tea sweet. How he’d pout when annoyed, make a fuss when embarrassed—yet silent when upset. I knew of the way he liked the smell of vanilla because it reminded him of his grandmother’s kitchen, and how he’d never tuck his shirt in because he liked the feeling of the breeze reaching his stomach on warmer days.

I had long kept the memory hidden in my head, detained it to the bottom of my mind as if it were forbidden knowledge so long as to not feel what I had back then.

All for naught, it seems, as the man beside me always had a knack to make himself known to mankind. It was as if he was flaunting how easily he’d moved on—how little he truly cared for me.

I parted my lips to emit my thoughts, yet nothing came out. My mouth opened like a fish in air, only to close it once more like an idiot once I had realized that my thorax failed me.

My pride screamed at me to speak. It seems as if it could not leave me looking like a heartbroken teen, so I reopened it to attempt once more.

Unfortunately, he beat me to it.

”Are you okay?” He asks.

An innocent question, one asked of normal formalities. Yet, it brought me all the way back then. When innocence and naivety ran through, when a question would not have hidden implications.

Back to when I was young, and in love.

Back then, I would have responded with a “yep!” to not worry him, but then spill all my worries not a minute later. Before, I would have had courage because he was my Younghoon.

Now, he has changed. No longer the boy that was mine. No longer my Younghoon, but theirs.

”Why?” I asked.

To onlookers, it seemed like a common reply, especially in the perspective that they are strangers.

But I knew what I was talking about, and he does too.

Why act like you care anymore after you chose opportunities over me? Why rub the wound you know is still bleeding? Why not me?

A pregnant pause befalls before he took a sharp inhale, and muttered, “I’ll excuse myself.”

He walks away, and I let go of the breath I hold.

Strange, I felt relieved.

Perhaps I was mistaken. He did not change much mentally, he was still the Younghoon I knew.

Perhaps I was mistaken. I too did not change much mentally, I was still the me I knew.

Perhaps I was mistaken. We were still us. It was proven so as question met silence.

As bitterness was once more ignored, pushed deeply and squeezed tightly until we could not breath.

It is because we are still us, that communication ceased as it did all those years ago.

It is because we are still us, that we continue to bear this torture, though we know it did not do us good. Though it can be fixed.

We know, we understand. But we are us. By blood and flesh we are us, so we let the torture pain us once more.

It is not favorable, but it is what we prefer. Perhaps, because the truth is too jarring? It would mean that all this bitterness was for nothing. All the tears and curses and pain becomes irrelevant if we accept the truth. It seems that this was not something we could accept yet.

For now, this would be enough.

taglist — @kyusqult @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @taerae-verse

© astrae4 2024 | please don’t copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[septic-9mil]

Its very well established that the band doesn't drink in front of Ash specifically (they dont drink ever usually either cuz they just dont like it) I do know that there was ONE time specifically where Tyler came home drunk to Ash's and his apartment and it freaked Ash out real bad- like Tyler wasnt violent or heaven forbid creepy to him it just freaks Ash out to be around intoxicated people. But i know damn well Cam got a call from Ash and he sounded rly worried and him and Aaron let him stay over for the night and they for sure chewed Tyler the fuck out the next day- And Tyler's always felt guilty about that because (he'd never admit it but) Ash means A LOT to him and making him scared or legit making him uncomfortable would ruin him. But Cam and Aaron yelled at him so bad the day after and would tell him about how worried Ash was n ask if he was proud of himself for that- Tyler definitely apologized so much after that and he didnt let that happen again but even YEARS later when Tyler was a total wreck after Aaron died and all he wanted was to be around Cam and Ash he'd just feel that guilt again because in his state he was in he knew they both (but especially Ash) would be ashamed of him, so i do think that night stuck with him a lot.

By the way the guys not drinking in front of Ash/kind of being idk--i dont wanna say protective but like. They ALL are extremely protective over each other since theyve known each other for so long yk- But like theyre not BABYING him or treating him like a child its just because they saw firsthand for many years how bad Ash's uncle's alcoholism affected Ash and they knew that they didnt wanna see that again because he's always been so happy and hyper around them but when he was a kid/teen he'd get real quiet or paranoid when around (for example) Tyler's Dad and Step Mom or Cam's parents because he didn't know if they would yell at him or hurt him- but then he'd be really clingy to Tyler and Cam and Aaron (even when he was in his late teens cuz he started feeling helpless and his friends were his only feeling of comfort at all but then again he never admitted this to them). But VS literally witnessed how fucked up Ash would be after a really bad night and even one on one they'd see this too when he'd knock on their doors at 8pm sobbing his eyes out because his uncle locked him out or because he didnt feel safe that night. They all looked after each other even after they were teens n making sure Ash didnt have to deal with that bullshit anymore was a big one.

[usmsgutterson]

LAVENDER HAZE- Nikolai Lantsov

Okay! First fic for the midnights event! For those who don’t know, Midnights is the album by Taylor Swift that came out a week and a half ago. In short, a bit of chaos between @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r​ and myself ensued and here we are!

I have a few things to clarify before we jump in, however. None of the fics in this event are song fics. Some of them will have lyrics from the song somewhere or the song title referenced, but I primarily based them off whatever the like, vibe of the song is? The fics will hopefully match the songs aesthetic pretty well, but if they don’t, I apologize in advance. 

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

The largest part of being a royal was being under public scrutiny near-constantly. At every single dinner, every gala, every time you showed your face, had an opinion to voice, you were critiqued. Notes about your outfit were made by journalists who’d later critique them in their gossip newspapers. Notes about the way you stood, what your expression was as you stood in front of a crowd.

People even made it their own prerogative to assume things about your relationship, to make assumptions and then to treat those assumptions as the truth, only to be confronted by the real truth when it smacked them across the face. They were hurt when it finally did, when the writers of the gossip newspapers saw you and Nikolai in public, hands interlaced, grins on your faces and love clear as day in your eyes.

Nikolai and yourself had been courting since before the civil war. You’d been around as long as he’d known Dominik, your relationship having begun at sixteen. The three of you enlisted in the First Army together, and when Nikolai took to his boats and the identity of Sturmhond, you’d been at his side, his partner in all things, love and war included.

“How do you do it, my love?” Nikolai asked as you stepped out of the carriage. The two of you would enter a building, enjoy two minutes of private time while you walked down a long corridor before you met a crowd. “How do you handle all of this with such cadence as you do? I wouldn’t mind knowing a few of your tricks.”

“You get used to it,” you said with a laugh. “I would’ve presumed you knew that. You’ve been handling this all your life, have you not?” Nikolai offered a mere shrug as the two of you proceeded up a long marble staircase.

“You seem to handle it better than I sometimes,” he said. “You handle it beautifully, Y/N.”

You took his hand, interlacing your fingers and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. “I thank you for your compliments, but I’d rather not be blushing when we face the crowd, Nik. It’ll become all the news if I am. The writers will assume you’d told me something scandalous beforehand.”

Nikolai laughed, an easy, open laugh as the two of you reached the landing and the doors for the venue opened.

“Heaven forbid I make the love of my life blush when doing so is just so fun,” he said. “Oh, the gossip writers! Their dresses and suits will certainly be in knots if we dare!” You laughed, giving his hand a squeeze as he straightened his shoulders. About a minute into your walk down the corridor, Nikolai would straighten his expression to convey what seemed to be happy indifference, though the two of you both knew that you would rather be anywhere else than addressing a crowd.

“I love you, Nik,” you said.

He grinned as the two of you stepped past the venues threshold.

“I love you too,” he said.

The walk through the corridor was quiet, the pair of you heading down it and putting up the royal façade like it was second nature. Your shoulders straightened, expression nullified into simple indifference.

You’d long learned what to do to keep your relationship private, to keep the writers and their gossip from assuming much of anything. The people got what you gave them in terms of your relationship with Nikolai. They got your loving gazes as you watched one another across rooms, the fact that you didn’t shy away from holding hands or just looking like a couple when you were seen taking walks on tours throughout various Ravkan cities.

It was funny to you, really. Every single gossip column that you’d read in regards to yourself had always had a specific point of speculation. When would there be an engagement? You’d been seen with rings on your finger before, could that possibly mean that the Ravkan royal you loved had finally proposed, after nearly ten years together?

The doors to the crowd were opened, and you let yourself cast a look to your lover as the two of you stepped past the threshold and onto the stage. He met your gaze, grinning at you for only a moment before the both you had to turn your attentions to the crowd.

You found yourself fighting an eyeroll as you recognized the faces of several gossip writers. There was respect for them somewhere, but to be in attendance at an announcement about the reduction of the debts Ravka owed to other countries? There was nothing worthy of note there, unless they were going to treat the fact that the debts Ravka owed had gone down by thirty percent as a rumor, as something only being said to ensure that the Ravkan royals still looked good to the citizens, even though the thirty percent decrease was precisely the truth.

Or, perhaps, it seemed likely that they’d comment on you. Your outfit, your expression. How many times you glanced at Nikolai or how many times you glanced away from him. How long you kept your eyes on the crowd, because how dare you look at the group of people whom your spouse is addressing? The gossip writers liked to make scandals out of anything, and they’d surely find a way to make a scandal out of that. They’d twist a detail so that it looked how they wanted it to, take something out of context or just blatantly make something up. It was all that gossip writers tended to be much good for, anyway.

The announcement finished, and once again, you and Nikolai found yourselves walking down that corridor. You couldn’t hear it, but you knew that the gossip writers were rushing outside while you and Nikolai walked, prepared to shout questions, demand answers, and remain upset when no answers were given.

“You’re ready to be asked if we’re engaged for the umpteenth time?” Nikolai asked, steeling his shoulders as though preparing for it. “Oh, the gossip writers never stop, do they?”

You laughed, leaning your head against Nikolais shoulder for a moment. “They never do. I just don’t think it’s in their nature, but yes. I’m ready to face it. I’ve become more than capable of facing it since the civil war, have you not?”

The rumors of engagement, the talks of coronations and marriages, they’d been happening since Nikolai was crowned king. The two of you had long learned to ignore them, content to remain in your bubble of romantics away from the rest of the outside world. You were content to remain there and you would’ve preferred staying there rather than having to face the writers of the gossip mags who showed up where they weren’t needed.

The doors opened, the two of you stepped out, and instantly, you were bombarded.

“King Nikolai, you do realize that you need to find someone whom you can rule alongside in the coming years? You need to provide an heir to the throne before it is too late to do so!”

“King Nikolai, what is your relationship with your honorable consort like? Can you tell us any of the details?”

“Y/N, you were spotted with a ring on your finger just last week! Can you tell us whether or not you and the king are engaged? My readers would love to be the first ones to have such information!”

“Y/N! When is the wedding? Have you begun the planning process yet?”

“Y/N, how well have you accustomed to royal life since the start of the civil war?”

The words drowned out all others as the two of you cascaded down the steps, both of you eager to get to the carriage and a safe distance away from everyone who wanted every piece of your life, including the ones you remained unwilling to give.

As the carriage doors opened and the questions continued, Nikolai said the words that made a silence ring true over the crowd.

“My partner and I do not wish to comment on your questions, which were asked at a grossly inappropriate time. You may consider that an engagement would be so obvious that questions would not have to be asked. You may also consider that my partner and I do not owe you explanations of any kind. We thank you so much for your time, however, and bid you all good day.”

With the word, Nikolai and yourself both climbed into the carriage, grinning triumphantly as the doors closed and the voices stopped. He leaned across the space between the two of you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and one to your hand before sitting back and closing his eyes.

“We did it,” he said.

You laughed. “Back to our perfect romance we shall go.”

Nikolai opened an eye, gave you a charming grin that had you falling head over heels all over again.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “I love every minute. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Nik.”

The romance you had with him was perfect, certainly, the lavender haze was worth every minute of fighting. Every minute of disagreement was worth it for all the perfect moments in between.

[ughmyreality]

you should make a fic involving stephanie, just putting it out there

So, this fic might be ooc but I actually like how it turned out. This is somewhat more wholesome and cutesy vs the other fics I've written but Stephanie deserves it. Anyway, I present, "Oh Stefany, Stefanie, Stephany"

Stephanie knows she should be crying. After all funerals are meant to be sad, that is unless you were having a celebration of life. But in her case this couldn’t be any farther from the truth. The person in question was her mother but even knowing this would be the last time she’d see her didn’t change her attitude.

It was a rather small affair, with less than 20 people. Her mother was never one for friends. Stephanie was in no way in charge of setting up the funeral despite being the daughter of the deceased. It was up to the rest of the small family to take over, whether that be because they wanted to help ease the burden or because they thought that she was going to ruin it she doesn’t know.

Her hands grip down on the obituary, an ugly pastel purple. She looks down to read it and see what brilliant lies they wrote about her mother. Because heaven forbid that people write about how people were actually like. Not everyone lights up a room or would give someone the shirt off their back, especially not her mom.

In Loving Memory

-Gladys Foamwire-

Gladys was a sweet woman taken far too soon. She spent her last days alongside her daughter Stefany…

‘Stefany’?

They couldn’t even be bothered to spell her name correctly. Sure, the feeling stung, but what more could she expect. No one knows the real her, the real Stephanie. She’ll just have to learn to be ok with that.

“Hi, I’m Stephanie, here to sign the lease.”

A balding man grins at her. He opens the door wider and ushers her in.

“Of course, Of course! Follow me this way.”

After the death of her Mom, she had to do some soul searching. For so long she had been tied down to her mother that now that she was finally free she didn’t know what to do. But she’s made her decision now. She’s ready to start a new chapter in her life.

She was going to buy this rusty old building and turn it into something of her own. Redecorate it from the ground up and prove that she has what it takes to stand out from the crowd. It was going to be perfect, and even better yet, she’s sure that her Mom would be rolling over in her grave if she found out.

“Well, it’s great to see you! I have all the paperwork filled out already. Feel free to look it over and make sure everything is correct and then sign away!”

Stephanie’s eyes skim the paper. Date of birth, correct. Today’s date, correct. Name, corr-

Buyer: Stefanie

“Um… my name is Stephanie as in ‘S t e p h a n i e’, not with a f.”

“Oh, my apologies, Stephanie. I’ll have a new paper printed right away. Do you mind coming back a little bit later?”

She holds back the urge to sigh. Was it that hard to spell her name? But she shouldn’t care anyway. She won’t have to deal with this man for very much longer anyway.

“Sure, that’s fine.”

Moralton isn’t a place for the youth. There are very few things to do and even fewer for those non church going. That’s why every once in a while Stephanie ventures out of her comfort zone and leaves for the night. It’s how she ended up in this situation to begin with.

“Hey!”

The woman beside her practically yells in her ear. It was already a loud atmosphere, obviously in a club, but the girl's voice wasn’t helping matters.

She was short with reddish brown hair draped over her shoulder. They’d talked off and on throughout the night saying her name is Victoria but it was clear that she’d had more drinks than she could handle.

“I’m about to leave but here take this! I’ll see you later babe!”

The woman stubbles forward and shoves a napkin in her hands. A person who she could only assume was her friend waves at her apologetically. Apparently this was Victoria’s usual drunk behavior.

“Byeeee!”

The napkin was written on with plain black ink with a subtle mark of red lipstick. It reads ‘Call me Stephany, it’s your girl Vic xoxo’ with a hastily written phone number on the side.

She had spelled her name wrong. Typical. It’s no big deal. Besides she’d much rather have a true connection with someone rather than whatever this was. She’ll be ok, she always was.

“Do you think that getting a cross tattoo would be blasphemous?” Orel asks in his usual innocent way.

“Orel, you know that I don’t know about these things. Why do you want a tattoo anyway?”

The boy clasps his hands together “Well, some kid at school told me tha-”

“Orel, please don’t let what other people say dictate your life. You’re too short, shortie, to be worried about what other people think. What until you're a bit taller.”

“Fine, I guess you're right. Well, I’ve to get to church bef-. I almost forgot! We were talking about how we all need to be appreciative and giving in church the other week. How it’s important for us to let go of all our worldly possessions. So, I have a gift for you since I won’t be needing it anymore. I’ve become one with nature!”

He throws a little box up on the counter with a smile and takes a look at the clock.

“Sorry, but I’ve really got to get going, Bye!”

Orel runs out the door leaving Stephanie alone with only the box with her. The note on top of it says From Orel to Stephanie. She couldn’t help but laugh, at least someone spelled it right.

Stephanie used to think that no one cared to know the real her. But maybe she was wrong, she was just looking in all the wrong places.

She delicately peels off the paper and opens the box to see a shiny gold key. How strange. On further inspection she sees a keychain attached to it reading ‘Orel’s house key’. What had that boy gotten into this time. Had he been sleeping outside for the last week?

“OREL! Get back here you can’t give this to me!”

[melanieathene]

Suptober 2022 Day 5 - A Perfect Disaster

It couldn't have gone any worse.

On the surface things looked okay. The champagne was served in crystal flutes, bubbles joyfully rising to the surface, ready to tickle the palate. The meal was piping hot when it was served, the presentation of meat and vegetables a work of art. The lights were low, the waiters unobtrusive. Soft music played in the background, setting the proper mood for a romantic rendezvous. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Which, of course, meant Dean should have known the evening was destined to be a perfect disaster.

Indeed, they had no more clinked their glasses together, when all hell broke loose in the kitchen.  At first, Dean thought it was a simple grease fire, easily put out.  But as an ashen-faced chef and his staff fled the scene in abject terror, he sighed and set his napkin aside. 

And that is when the poltergeist burst into the dining room.  People screamed. Tables and chairs were overturned. Food went flying, much of it landing on Dean's companion.

Dean picked a leaf of lettuce off his shoulder and sighed. “Shall we?” he said.

Two hours later, the angry spirit painstakingly laid to rest, Dean pulled up at a White Castle drive through window and accepted the paper bag with a grimace of of dismay.

“This is not how I wanted the evening to go,” he apologized. “I was trying to make our first date special.”

“Are you serious, Dean? The evening was perfect. Dinner and a show.”

“How much did you have to drink before the ghost showed up?”

Castiel smiled. “Don't you get it, Dean? You. You are what made it perfect. Being with you is all I've ever wanted.”

“Shit, Cas, you can't go around saying chick flick stuff like that.”

“Oh. Very well,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “Then I believe the traditional response is: thank you for a lovely evening. Heaven forbid we go against tradition.”

Dean nodded and took a deep gulp of his milkshake. A choice he was soon to regret as Castiel continued:

“So... does that mean I have to wait until our third date before we can have sex?”

[axstoria]

Army Dreamers

Based off the song by Kate Bush.

No one prepares you for the letter in the mail nor the man that shows up on your doorstep, his hat clutched to his chest, metals gleaming. You’ll ask where your boy is, and what happened to him. He was supposed to come home today. Where is your baby?

The man introduces himself. A member of his platoon. Your baby isn’t coming home. He’s sorry. You feel your heart pounding, pleading, begging, for a relief it cannot receive. You are frozen and cannot be warmed, color draining from your face to assist your weeping heart, knees falling weak, letting you crash to the threshold below you.

The man stays standing, trying not to watch as you collapse. He has already seen enough grief and sadness for a young man his age. Hat clutched ever slightly tighter to his chest, he lowers his head, amber eyes fluttering shut in a silent prayer for your sake.

No, you cry, you’re lying. Your lungs squeeze, breath becoming as short as your baby’s heartbeats. He apologizes again, taking a stiff step off your doorstep.

Days later, you are standing in your finest blacks, men of many different uniforms surrounding you, their hats removed from their neatly-shaven heads and pressed to their hearts. You wished his was still beating.

Four men carry his flag-clad casket to the depression in the ground. The warm spring wind brushes through the graveyard. You choke on your breath. The crane takes his body from the men, lowering him to sit in his hole. A man gives a speech that you cannot hear, ears full of cotton and mind swimming with a grief you cannot quite place— a feeling like no other.

They bury him. A woman cups your elbow, dragging you away from the site as everyone leaves. You snag one of the purple flowers on top of the dirt, placing a gentle kiss on the petals, whispering an apology to the son you never got to see grow. He could have been anything else. A singer. An educator. A father. Anything but this corpse in the ground.

You’ll heal, forbidding the thought of your baby from haunting you night and day. You’ll be able to drink his favorite tea and make his favorite meal without crying. You’ll forget what it feels like to have your heart completely broken, leaving you as nothing but a fragment of what you once were. You won’t feel guilt every time you think of him, wishing him well in his time in heaven, instead.

He’ll no longer be a waste of the army dreamer as you always dreamed he'd be.

[softakespics]

Old short story I found from my uni writing folder

Family Affairs or family life: a five minute clip

It started with a broken picture frame -Emily 

The frame fell from the wall, the glass shattering everywhere. 

“I didn’t mean to!” I shout, looking at my offending elbow. I’d knocked the picture off the wall in the hall as I shrugged my coat off. The shopping bag with the milk I’d just fetched dropped on the floor.  Splitting the carton.

Mum came out from the family room, where she and dad had been arguing. Her face wrapped around a furious glare.

“It was an accident!”

“You were an accident!” she spits out. 

I stare at mum in disbelief. I stammer apologies to her back, looking at the mess on the floor instead of her retreating back as she storms back to the argument. Slamming the door so hard the pieces of glass on the floor skitter backwards. 

I have to fix it, I set about finding the broom and mop. Stashed in the pantry, like it needed to be a secret. Heaven forbid someone knows we sweep or mop our floors.

The frame is split, cracked across the diagonal joins in each corner. A small scuff on the bottom of it where it hit the floor. Nothing too dire.

It’s a picture from a family trip a few years ago. Some family friendly resort in Spain, I have a vague recollection of some giant costumed animal mascot. My sister and I have matching pink bucket hats and bright sunburned cheeks, dad’s in the middle arms round us both. We’re grinning like maniacs with the beach behind us. Mum had taken the picture, then promptly thrown a tantrum about some non-existent problem in the hotel room.

I sit with the pieces on my lap, wondering if I can get it  back together without it looking too broken. I go to find a glue gun in the office, if I can find it under all of dad’s paperwork. I take the long way round, avoiding the family room where the yelling is.

I heat the glue gun, focussing on that rather than the stomps and shouts in the next room. Trying to not hear the words being spewed out. As I hear the words disappear into a low murmur. The silence might well be worse. 

I focus on lining up the frame perfectly. 

Sometimes to fix things you have to pull away any bits that are really damaged to get it to line up again. I pull at some shredded bits of wood, picking with my nails to even it out, sanding it as best I can with the rough edge of my woolly sleeve. 

If I can fix it, it will be better. I can go in, and show it to mum, and she’ll be so impressed. I turn my focus to fixing this thing.

I can make it okay.

I pick up the glue gun pressing the button. It hasn’t been on very long, the glue gun isn’t that warm. But sitting here, feels like an eternity.

“What are you doing?” 

I look up, Paige is there. Shuffling in, in her thick black slipper boots, ripped jeans, purple haired, ‘goth crap’ as mum calls it. She’s got the orange juice by the neck of the bottle. She looks like she’s about to drink it straight. I debate calling her out, but if mum hears it right now she’ll flip her attention to Paige. I make a mental note to not drink that one and open another later. 

She sighs, smacking her lips as she gulps it down. 

“Do you want help?” She asks, raising a darkly shaded, recently pierced eyebrow at me.

I nod, and she takes this as a cue to sit next to me, she quietly takes the frame, lining it up and holding it as I weave the glue into the cracks of the frame.  She shifts the headband of her blue headphones, opening up one ear.

“They’re pretty bad today aren’t they?”

I nod slightly, not meeting her eyes. 

She stares for a second, “Wanna come up to my room for a bit?”

It started with paperwork- Dad (Henry)

It always starts with the paperwork. There’s just so much of it, my desk is always covered. I can’t keep up with it. Every time I feel like I’ve hit the bottom of the pile on the desk my secretary has put more on it by the next morning. It’s in my work-bag, it’s in boxes, filing cabinets and well ordered piles that seem to sneak past the doorway of the office onto the dining room table. 

It never seems to end, I can work till 3 am and there’s still papers to get filled and only I can fill them. 

 I’m exhausted, I could do without having to deal with this today. 

I don’t know when I got to this point. Drowning in paperwork. I’m sure I used to enjoy my job. I’m sure I used to enjoy my weekend. I’m sure I used to enjoy lots of things. I used to have the energy to go camping, or kayaking, or paintballing, or something.

 I used to have fun.

 Now I feel like fun’s doormat. Stuck in a room full of people with muddy boots. 

Now, I come home from work where I’ve dealt with more paper and bullshit meetings, to do more prep for God only knows what, I haven’t even looked at my list for tomorrow. Without so much as a greeting Amelia nags saying we need to spend the weekend repainting the family room because of some reason. I make a non-committal noise. I’m sure if I just take my morning slowly it can wait for a weekend or two. That or it’ll take too long and she’ll either forget or find a decorator. It was the wrong move. I didn’t realise she was in one of those moods.

I zone out for a minute letting her get it out her system, she’s always a bit better after. She shouldn’t bottle things up like this. I don’t know why she’s like this, I could have sworn she never used to be this highly strung. Her brain sort of changed after the kids, she never really got past the pregnancy mood swings. It’s caused issues before. When she stops being my wife and becomes this caricature of herself, some sort of 1950’s-esque nightmare wife.

“Are you even listening to me? 

“Huh, yes?”

“Oh I can’t believe you! I’m trying to talk to you about something important? You can’t just tune out!”

We turn to a crash in the hall. Amelia pokes her head out the door. 

“It was an accident!” I hear muffled through the doorway. It’s one of the girls, I really don’t think they should see their mum like this.

“You were an accident!”

“Amelia,” I hate this, “I think you should go back on your meds.”

It started with yelling- Paige

I heard the voices through my headphones. I don’t know when the yelling started but it's become the usual accompaniment to my music, acting as a thrumming bass filled with fury and frustration. 

The rise and fall of mum and dads fight, an interesting composition. One that’s become so familiar I can almost predict each key of the fight. The pointiest key around, C#. 

The first note; nit-picking of dumb things runs as a long semibreve dominating the first two bars. This usually takes the form of weird fixations. There’s mud on that skirting board. Then it becomes we need to paint the skirting board. Then it's actually… hmmm….the whole wall needs painting. And she usually decides it has to be right then in that instant or the immediate Saturday one of the only days both she and dad have off. 

The next few bars of warbling quavers and semiquavers, usually clashing seconds. As she freewheels between emotions, fluctuating between introspection, sorrow, and fury. 

In between songs on shuffle I hear, “It was an accident!”

“You were an accident!”

Oh shit, looks like Em’s caught in the crossfire. Normally I’d ignore it, hoping it would help her figure out her own survival tactics. But I heard a crash and something’s probably broken which means Little Miss Perfect will be very upset.

She just hasn’t learned yet, gotta fly under the radar. It’s taking her a while.

Stupid kid.

I descend into the ‘heart of the home’, under the guise of orange juice retrieval. I’ll check out if she’s chill enough to come up to my room. If she calls me out for drinking from the bottle, she’s on her own. If she’s cool I’ll help her keep out of sight and mind for the rest of the day till everything settles down. 

She’s hunched over a picture frame. 

I can’t leave her like that, she looks so lost, desperately wiping at the edges of the wooden frame. Wide eyes shocked that I’m downstairs. I offer help. She doesn’t speak when I talk to her, her eyes shine with tears, and her cheeks are bright red. We sit fixing the frame in silence.

 “Wanna come up to my room for a bit?”

It started with the end- Amelia 

I’m done. There’s just so much crap everywhere. If it’s not paperwork it’s something else. Socks, shoes and coats strewn about the hall. Just for once I would like some peace and quiet and a tidy house. 

That’s all I ask. Pick up your crap. I’m exhausted from the monotony of my days. I say the same things every morning, I pick up the same stuff, I trip over the same shoes.

No one listens to me. 

How can they not see how cluttered and dirty everything looks? Piles of papers on the table, socks in the hall, shoes next to, not on the rack, coats everywhere, stray gloves. There’s a PE kit, there’s a phone charger trailing on the floor, a random book which should be on a shelf . So on and so forth, I walk through the room looking at all the things, just left out.

I don’t want to think about the milk that’s been left out curdling on the kitchen side.

I just don’t understand how they can’t see all of this? How everything seems to be falling in against me. I’m trying to do everything. I get finished with one task only to have three more a minute later. I’m constantly chasing my tail trying to balance sixty plates at once. It’s impossible. 

Some days I just want to leave it all, get away. Pretend I’m not me, pretend I’m living another life. There’s a crash in the hall. 

Great, more mess.

“It was an accident!”

“You were an accident!”

 It’s Emily, the shock in her eyes evident even through my cloud of rage. It slowly filters through as I slam the door. Shutting her out. Oh God wait, why did I say that?

“Amelia, I think you should go back on your meds.” He states in a low whisper. He looks serious, of course he’d take the kids side. He always takes the kids' side, it's them over me every time and I’m sick and tired of it. He never listens to me 

“Don't make out like I’m the crazy one here!”

“I’m not. I’m just suggesting you go back on to your meds for a month or two. It helps.”

“It helps what? Who does it help?” They help them sit around and pretend like I’m calm when all I feel is empty. “Who does it help, Henry?  I’m not crazy, I don’t need them.”

“There’s no shame in taking them.”

He doesn’t want to help. If he wanted to help, he’d see how messy this place is. If he wanted to help he would just listen to me for once. This crap comes from nowhere. It builds so quickly, it must be a conspiracy of some kind. 

I can’t do this. I can’t keep living like it’s groundhog day. Having the same chores, the same meals, the same fights over, and over again. All because no one listens to me. 

What can I say to make him listen to me?

“I want a divorce.”

[jessica1nyclophilia]

HOUSE OF HYDRANGEAS

TW: Mention of drugs, but no usage from the main character, slight use of swearing

AN: This is the first part of the story but I can't guarantee there will be a second part; if there isn't, you can enjoy a horrible, horrible cliffhanger ;)

~

The office is quiet as Xin Jiang-Alloway enters. A thick and luscious scent in the air, permeated with honey and vanilla, hits his nostrils. The fragrance is mouth-watering, like a honeycomb soaked in vanilla bean oil, basking in it for years. Xin looks around the office, searching for it, only to find hydrangeas running up the painted brick walls. They slither through the cracks, each bush of blooms making its way further and further down the scaffolding. He feels oddly entranced by the flowers and the floral essence omitted, and he finds himself walking towards them in a daze. 

“Xin, what are you doing?” A dulcet voice coos to him, beckoning like the lure of the hydrangeas. “You’ve seen the hydrangeas already, but you haven’t embraced me in five hundred years. Where is your hello?” 

“Impatient, are we, Ariose?” Xin smiles, turning away from the flowers to see his lover. His lover, whom he has loved for more than ten thousand years, and it feels like not a single day has passed.

“Only for a man like you,” his lover smiles coyly, followed by an arioso laugh. 

“Still stuck with those witty remarks?” Xin grins leisurely, walking around the grand, oak wood desk.

“I’m not stuck with them, Xin. I am merely presenting truths in such a manner that makes your cheeks flush crimson,” Ariose glows with cheerfulness and an innocent look Xin cannot possibly ignore.

“I am not blushing,” Xin protests as his beau laughs again, the sound of ringing bells chiming in their voice. 

“Oh, how I have missed you, Xin,” Ariose croons, the desire so heavily laced it makes Xin’s head spin. “Five hundred years might be nothing compared to our lifespans, but heaven forbid we be separated again,”

“Five centuries, and you still manage to take the words out of my mouth,” Xin remarks, the distance between the two soulmates vanishing as they approach one another.

“Delighted to hear I can still take your breath away when,” Ariose pauses, “it’s required,” they smirk, pressing their lips to Xin's. And Xin finally feels he is home at last.

~

Xin Jiang-Alloway jolts up in his seat at the sound of a ruler smacking against his desk. His friend, Sia Ravu, is staring at him peculiarly, ruler in hand. 

“Hey, you were daydreaming again. What are you thinking about?” She asks, and Xin sighs.

“I have no idea. I had this crazy dream where I fou-”

“Xin, Sia! No talking while I’m teaching.” Their teacher snaps, and Xin and Sia mutter their apologies. Once the lecturing starts again, Xin grabs his pen.

X: I had a dream where I found my lover~

S: Wow, that’s cool !!

X: Yeah, the person I’ve loved for MORE THAN TEN THOUSAND YEARS

S: Oh. Did you hit your head before you started daydreaming?

X: Haha. And no, I didn’t- the dream came out of nowhere

As Sia is about to reply, the bell rings, marking the end of another school day.

“Text me later. I’m curious now,” Sia beams, closing her books shut.

“Will do. It’s too strange for me to keep it to myself,” Xin agrees as they head to their lockers. 

~

The house is unusually loud as Xin unlocks the front door. Music is blasting from the living room, and he hears squeals of delight echoing down the hall.

“I’m home,” he shouts, dumping his belongings into his room.

“Welcome home!” His mother greets him enthusiastically. Upon entering the living room, Xin notices three things. One, his parents are dancing to strange Chinese opera music. Two, his mama has decided to don a neon yellow exercise set while his mother is in neon green. (They look like highlighters, is Xin’s conclusion.) Three, there is a shattered vase on the floor.

“What the hell happened here?” Xin can’t help but grin at the sheer ridiculousness in front of him. 

“Your mama got too into the throwbacks of her time,” his mother says, trying to keep a dead straight poker face.

“Are you calling me old, Lorraine?” His mama asks, looking offended. “Wow, and I thought we had a connection,”

“Shu Jiang, my beloved wife, of course, I’m not calling you old,” His mother counters and Xin laughs at their playful antics. He suddenly gasps, the love of his life slowly peering her head from around the corner.

“Mimi,” he smiles as the kitten hurries over to him, playfully batting at him with her paws. Xin decides when he dies, this is the correct way to go. An overdose on kitten serotonin. “Have you been good today, Mimi?” he coos, “I’m sure you have,”

“Actually,” his mama interrupts, “she was the one who broke that vase,”

“The vase we still haven’t cleaned up,” his mother sighs, heading to their laundry room to find a dustpan and broom. 

“No more ear scratches for you then,” Xin lets go of his pet, standing up to find something to eat. Mimi follows him anyway.

“Okay, the glass is all gone, but be careful anyway,” his mother announces as she returns, blowing a lock of greying blonde hair out of her face.

“I have news,” Xin announces, taking a bite of the chocolate bar he found lying on the table.

“Hey, that’s mine,” his mama points out from where she is sitting.

“Finders keepers,” he smiles, taking another bite to prove a point.

“You win this time, son,” she relents, “but yes, tell us your news,” she gestures for him to continue, picking up her glass of water. His mother sits beside her wife, glancing at Xin with watchful eyes.

“Have you won an award or committed a crime?” she asks without a trace of humour.

“You really can’t tell?” his mama asks.

“Anyway,” Xin carries on before his parents start play fighting again. (He knows their playfights end in kisses, and he’d rather not see that while eating.) “Dr Davidson summoned me to his almighty throne this morning,”

“The Solomon Davidson?” his mother queries, looking confused. “Daddy Davidson?”

“Wǒ de tiān a!” his mama splutters. “Lorraine, we are lesbians!”

“To be fair, it was funny,” his mother smiles, and Xin suppresses a laugh.  

“Order in the court, please,” Xin clears his throat, cheeks hurting from smiling. “So, as I was saying, Dr Davidson called me into his office today. He told me the delightful news that I might have dealt drugs to another student,” 

“What?” his mother breathes out, “What?!” His mama looks as if she is about to faint.

“Well, obviously, I didn’t!” Xin adds, “they said someone orchestrated a deal yesterday afternoon in the library,”

“But you came home yesterday,” his mama frowns, “we watched Marie Kondo together on Netflix,”

“Yes, Mama. I’m aware, but my headmaster is not. He explicitly said someone dealt with unidentifiable substances. As a result, our whole year is under inspection,”

“He is not sparking joy right now,” his mama grimaces. Xin nearly breaks the tense atmosphere with another chuckle.

“So how will they know who did it?” his mother asks, sitting more upright.

“According to Dr Davidson, the CCTV cameras in the library caught them. Written reports as well. I don’t know who wrote them, though,” Not to his surprise, his parents look ready to start a war with his headmaster. “They said an Asian kid did it,”

“That son of a bitch, I’m going to kill him,” his mama’s tone is final. 

“Calm down, Shu. Killing him means being charged with murder. We can’t become a family of criminals!” 

“My dearest mother, Lorraine,” Xin sighs.

“My dearest son, Xin,” she replies with the same sigh.

“You speak as if I have, indeed, committed a crime,”

“You probably have, considering how difficult it is to convince the school board that Asians look different to one another,”

“Lovely,” Xin groans, throwing his wrapper in the bin. 

“After we solve this,” his mama sips from her glass, “we will find you another school to attend.”

“Can’t say I’d disagree,” Xin mutters, giving Mimi another ear scratch.

~

Xin is back in the office again. The hydrangeas are still in full bloom, the scent spiralling around the room, intoxicating him.

“Xin,” his lover calls, “you’ve got to get up, my love,” they urge, shaking his shoulder. Xin refuses to sit up; he feels so tired. The shaking becomes more aggressive, and Xin opens his eyes to see Ariose’s honey-golden pupils scanning him warily. “Darling, please get up before they come,”

“Who? What is happening?” Xin mumbles as he is pulled out of the seat, the two fleeing the hydrangea-filled office. Xin is suddenly awake at the loss of the floral scent that has granted him comfort for so long.

“Hurry, Xin.”

[marginalizedmormon]

The Darkness Gathers

Not realizing until now that this is a metaphor for the gathering hosted by my sister recently, I will let it stand. My sister and I lost our mother recently; heading into the holidays has been especially painful as the traditions and fun of the holidays all remind us of Mom. So to comfort herself and family, my sister decided to host a pre-Thanksgiving feast at her home. I was on the fence about making the 4 1/2 - 5 drive to be there, but I did want to see her children and their children before we move across the country in the spring.

That is until I found out that my stepmother and 1/2 sister would be there. 

When I say my life has been a fairytale existence, and then in the next breath use the words stepmother and half-sister, you can guess where this is going. The last time we were together was at the death of my father. I will claim him as my father, because of all of these people, he was part of my world the longest. My stepmother was angry because I had not been calling every day during the last week of his life. I had been working a s long-term sub at a middle school (my most-dreaded job) to save some money because in 2 weeks I was bringing my mother who had dementia into my home to live with us. She had been evicted by her landlord and forced to move between Christmas and New Year’s. I didn’t know when my next opportunity to work would be. Between Dad’s illness and Mom’s housing crisis, I had made many trips during the fall to help with one or the other or both.

To create clarity about the disfunction of the situation, I need to mention that many years ago, my husband, son and I were banished from staying at my Dad’s house. After days of working in the yard, my husband and son were wrestling in the bedroom in which they were staying, and heaven forbid, bumped the bed which left a mark on the wall. So we were all banished. Not my sisters and their families. They could breeze into town and spend several days with Dad, stay at the house, do activities and visit but not us. I don’t remember hearing about them ever helping around the house or yard, but that is another story. So we would drive the 4 1/2 - 5 hours and sometimes could come to the house for a brief visit or meet downtown for a hamburger. 

Until Dad got sick. Because of chemo and radiation, he developed blood clots in his legs, one particularly bed one need surgery; the wound never healed. His oxygen levels were low, he was hospitalized several times and in and out of convalescent care. My overworked stepmother was understandably tired and on edge. I made multiple trips to help, at one time I was even permitted to stay at the house to help with Dad’s care. But then, after looking at several options for Mom’s housing, decided that the lack of decent options meant we would be bringing her home to stay with us. Not knowing what having a parent with dementia would do to the household. So I was working to save some money because I didn’t know how much or when I would be able to work again. No, I didn’t call that week. I didn’t know how quickly Dad’s health had declined.

My distraught stepmother, furious at my lack of attention (she does know the phones work both ways, right?) was not going to let us into the house to see my dying father. He had been put on morphine which is an indicator of end-stage palliative care; my neighbor was a hospice nurse and our conversations taught me a few things about death. 

So my sister intervenes and after a few hours, the stepmother agrees to allow us into the house to say our final goodbyes. I apologized profusely, even though I didn’t feel I needed to, she obviously was hurting, and I hoped it would help. 

Now, 3 years later, Mom is gone and my sister is trying to gather her loved ones. My husband is retiring in a couple of weeks. He has been a careful saver and we should be ok but with out-of-control inflation and an expensive move ahead of us, I have a thought. What if we ask to stay at Dad’s house and pay my stepmother AirBnB fees. It would help her and give us an affordable option for overnight housing. 

No, my half-sister and her kids are staying there. For free. I don’t care about that but she has turned toxic. The day my Dad died and we were at the house, she had to talk about the gifts she had gotten my sister and stepmother, excluding me even though I was right there. Like a mean girl’s club. 

The day my Mom died, they were both on the phone consoling my sister but not a word to me. When her mother died, I sent my stepsister flowers. I had just spent 2 years and 4 months in virtual lockdown with the pandemic, and Mom’s needs. Her death was both a relief and a great sadness. 

When my sister invited me down for Mother’s Day, we were both so sad (we’d lost our mom just 3 weeks before) I went so we could console each other. And she invited our stepmother - actually stepmother #3.) I didn’t want to see or talk with her, but we got through the weekend mostly intact. I was irritated that she didn’t want us to have a memorial for both of our parents but I bit my tongue. We will do what we want to. We are a family. 

[thebadgerclan]

Debut

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Francesca’s debut into Society...

A/N: Enjoy this idea that’s been rattling around in my brain

Also i haven’t read “When He Was Wicked” (Francesca’s book) yet, but I looked up her husband’s name and I made that who she ends up with in this

The Viscount had seldom been so stressed.  Not when he’d taken on the position his late father had so abruptly left, not when he’d dueled in his sister’s honor, not when courting and marrying you, the love of his life.  No, it was the debut of his third youngest sister, Francesca, that had Anthony all a tizzy.  The Dowager Viscountess had completely absconded her duties now that her eldest was wed, her duties falling to you.  Violet had prepared you well, so when the time for Francesca to debut, you felt certain you could guide her well.

Anthony, however, seemed to overlook this fact, worrying over who would sponsor his sister for the season.  “Whatever are we to do?” your husband said, running a hand through his hair.  “Without Mother to sponsor Francesca, she will be without, this is a disaster.”  “Anthony, my love,” you said softly.  “I should be more than happy to sponsor your sister.”  He looked up at you as if seeing you in the room for the first time.  “You should?”  “Of course.  It is part of my duties as Viscountess, is it not?  To sponsor and guide the young ladies of our family?”

“Good Lord, you’re right.  Apologies, dearest, I do not know why that slipped my mind.”  You sat at his side, taking his hands in yours.  “I understand, Anthony.  I am only grateful that Eloise was sponsored by your Mama.  Heaven knows I could not have handled her.”  Your husband laughed, kissing your cheek.  “I tend to agree with you there, my love.”  The very next day, you began preparing Francesca for her debut.

***

“Presenting Miss Francesca Bridgerton, escorted by her sister-in-law, the Viscountess Bridgerton!”  As she walked towards the Queen, your words of advice rang in Francesca’s head.  Be calm, demure.  Focus on a set point before you and keep your gaze there.  When you arrive before Her Majesty, you will curtsey.  Remain in the curtsey until the Queen acknowledges you, after which you will walk backwards from the room.

She followed your advice to the letter, sinking into a perfect curtsey before the Queen.  You did the same, a pace or so behind your sister-in-law.  You didn’t show it, but you were stunned when Queen Charlotte rose from her throne and approached Francesca.  “It appears the trait of a diamond runs in the family,” she said, lifting Francesca’s chin.  “You, my dear, are flawless.”

***

Being the diamond of the season, Francesca had attracted dozens of suitors, all vying desperately for her hand.  You stood at your husband’s side, a glass of lemonade in hand, watching as Francesca danced, a beaming smile on her face.  “She is perfect,” you said, and Anthony nodded.  “Indeed,” he replied.  “But he, Baron Crumley, is certainly not.  We shall strike him from the list at once.”  “We?”

Anthony looked at you, finding a look of slight contempt on his face.  “Darling, there is not ‘we’ in this scenario.  Francesca shall make her choice, and it shall be hers to make.”  “Crumley is not suited to wed my sister.  He is arrogant, pompous, crass, la-”  “I am sure Francesca will see that in time.  But if you forbid him from courting, she shall want him more.  You recall how Daphne’s courtship played out with Simon?”

“Yes,” your husband sighed, knowing you were right.  “Very well.”  “Do wipe that glum look from your face, darling,” you said.  “You look so very dower when I am right.”  Anthony smirked, kissing your temple.  “Then I suppose I shall always look dower.”  Moments later, the dance ended, and Francesca approached, looking upset.  “What is the matter?” you asked, taking her hand.

“Lord Crumley,” she snipped.  “He…he commented that my hips did not look suitable for child bearing.  When I told him a gentleman should not be looking at a lady in such ways, he told me that it was his right, and he would look as he pleased.  I wish to leave, sister.”  “Then leave we shall,” you said, taking her arm and leading her from the ballroom.  As you exited, you gave Anthony a look that said I told you so over your shoulder.  

***

After one disastrous outing with Lord Barton, Anthony was forbidden from chaperoning Francesca’s outings.  You happily took his place, knowing your sister-in-law and suitors would much prefer a silent observer than one who spoke his thoughts aloud.  And when you and Francesca returned home, the latter with a beaming smile on her face, Anthony was immediately suspect.  “Oh, Anthony, they are smitten with one another!” you said gleefully, flopping rather ungracefully at your husband’s side.

“Are they?” he asked, setting his newspaper aside.  “Oh, certainly.  The way he looks at her!  Anthony, I recall how it felt to be newly in love, and I am positive that Francesca feels the same for Lord Stirling!”  Your husband sighed, knowing where this was headed.  “Is he a good match?”  “He is, Anthony.  A perfect gentleman; chivalrous, kid, respectful.  And an Earl!  Anthony, if this plays out, your sister will be a Countess!  Ranked higher than you and I!”  

“Ahh, Francesca shall never let me forget that, will she?”  You laughed softly, taking Anthony’s hand.  “Do you oppose it?”  “I oppose anyone who should seek to wed my sisters on a fundamental level, but no.  Lord Stirling, from what you and Francesca have said and from what I have observed, is a gentleman who will treat her well.  If he asks for my blessing, I shall grant it.”

***

“The Earl of Kilmartin is here, My Lord.”  “Send him in.”  You were seated in the drawing room while Anthony paced.  The note had arrived this morning: Lord and Lady Bridgerton, I wish to call upon you this afternoon, as there is a question I must ask of you.  -John Stirling.  He hadn't signed with his title, which showed humility to you, but Anthony was still on edge.  “Lord Bridgerton,” the Earl greeted, shaking your husband’s hand.  “Lady Bridgerton, thank you for having me.”

“Of course, Lord Stirling,” you said, offering him a seat, and at your look, Anthony sat as well.  “We are happy to have you.”  The Earl cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.  “I imagine you know why I am here,” he began.  “So I shall not dither.  Viscount, I am in love with your sister.  She is radiant, lovely, kind, smart, everything I would look for in a wife.  Francesca brings me joy, she makes my life worthwhile, so I come today to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Anthony pursed his lips, but nodded.  “Of course.  You will treat her well?  With respect?  As a gnetleman should treat a lady?”  “Of course, My Lord.  I could do nothing else.”  Anthony stood, offering John his hand.  “Then there is nothing to discuss.  You have my blessing.”  “Of, thank you, My Lord!  I shall not disappoint you!”  “No, you shall not.  And please, call me Anthony.  We are to be family now.”  “Yes,” John said.  “Then you must call me John.”

You stood and embraced your soon to be brother-in-law.  “You make her happy,” you said.  “I see it.  And when you ask for her hand, you will make her the happiest woman alive.”  “Thank you, My Lady.”  “Oh, call me Y/N.  As Anthony said, we are to be family.”  John smiled, shaking your husband’s hand once more.  “We are,” he said, sounding in disbelief.  “And what a lovely family I am gaining.”

[believeitseeitdoit]

Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home 

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them 

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this 

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

        “Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

       Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

     “Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

      They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

       Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

      Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

     “SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

     In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

     “Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

     “Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

     “So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

     “Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

     “You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

     He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

     “I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

     Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery.  As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

     Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

       Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

      “And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

     Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.” 

      As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

        “Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

        “Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

       “Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first. 

      Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

       “Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

       Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle. 

      You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

       “Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

       “Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

     “Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

    “My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll​ @iraot​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @tuiccim​  @thebescht​ @makbarnes​