#but i just know i KNOW that neither of them will accept it

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #50 - Roundie]

"When Jungkook accidentally gives himself a bowl cut."

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: just Kookie being the cutest and roundest, she teases him for messing up his haircut, and he playfully bites her cheek for it, they're so in love, snuggles and kisses hihi

Wordcount: 1.3k

a/n: i don't have to mention what i was inspired by LIKE he is so cute you have no idea i love him so much it's actually insane :( this is also something that ogc!googie would do so i wanted to be self-indulgent and write it ihihiih <3 have fun besties 🧡

“No!” 

You heard your husband exclaim this one small word around twenty minutes ago and haven't heard a word from him since. Only the blow dryer, which has been running the last few minutes, can be heard.

You and Jungkook are on a romantic holiday in Japan because the land is especially nice this time around to explore by motorbike. You are currently staying in an Airbnb somewhere in the Japanese mountains. The architecture and furniture is traditional with a hint of modern and the house offers a small private spa area. You and Jungkook have already enjoyed it earlier today, but decided to call it quits for now. You currently find yourself on the sofa in your pyjamas, relaxing with a good book and a cup of tea, while your husband locked himself up in the bathroom. 

Except for his very enthusiastic and shocked “No!” you haven’t heard from him. That changes however right this instant when the blow dryer stops and the door unlocks. 

“Baby?” 

“Yes, Kook?”

You can’t see him yet, talking louder to make up for the distance. Judging from his voice coming closer, he is walking to you. 

“So, remember how I told you that my hair is getting too long?” 

You set down your book.

“What did you do?” 

“Okay so, hah, funny story. So okay, you know how we met when we were both nineteen, yeah?” 

“Yes?” 

“Okay cool and I looked really sexy and handsome and mature?” 

“Thinking back, you still looked very boyish back then, but I guess yeah you did. Why? What did you do?” 

“Did you ever wonder what I looked like when I was fifteen?” 

“Jeon Jungkook stop the riddles, what did you do?”

He crosses the corner, appearing in your vision. You instantly crack up, coughing out laughter and pointing your finger at him. He gave himself the roundest and cutest bowl cut ever, looking like a teen with it. 

“What did you do? Baby, oh my god”, you laugh loudly.

“I cut the bangs too short. I tried to save them by cutting the sides, but then I had to match the back too and I gave myself a bowl cut.”

“You look so adorable, I can’t believe it”, you say, stumbling to your feet so you can run to him and touch his hair, “you have the roundest head ever. You’re basically a circle.”

“I’m not a circle. Baby”, he whines and pouts.

You snicker, fluffing up his sides. They instantly fall back into their natural bowl cut state.

“I can’t believe it, you turned yourself into a boba ball. God, look at you. It’s like you aged backwards.”

“It’s the same stupid hairstyle I had in middle school. Baby, please tell me I’m handsome, I’m a sad doofus right now.”

“You’re the most handsome circle ever.”

He nudges you gently, furrowing his brows.

“Shut up, you’re not helping.”

You cackle, now fumbling with his bangs. 

“Of course you’re handsome, my sweetie. I’ve never seen you with your hair like this before, I love it a lot”, you say and tug on his bangs softly. They instantly bounce back into their bowl cut state, reflecting the lights from just how shiny and round his hair is. You snicker, “god it’s so cute. You’re adorable.”

“I'm neither cute nor adorable. I’m manly and sexy. Urgh, I ruined myself.” He whines and drops his head on your Shoulder. “I'll accept it if you divorce me now.”

“Divorce-ha!” You laugh loudly, giving his butt a playful spank, “you dramatic baby, you. I already told you that I love it. You’re very handsome and of course, very manly and sexy.”

He lifts his head, giving you a small grin. 

“But…also very cute and adorable.”

He furrows his brows, opening his mouth.

You instantly silence him, “which is a good thing because it means I wanna cuddle you even more often.”

“Wait. This is a good thing”, he says, making you chuckle.

“It is. Gosh you, let me take a picture. You’re so adorable.” 

“If you must.”

Despite his initial complaints, Jungkook ends up posing with pouted lips and his hand throwing up a peace sign. It’s his signature pose he does in pictures and he looks very adorable tonight. You giggle at the picture, putting it as your lock screen. You show it to him.

“Look, now when someone asks me about you, I can tell them I’m married to a roundie.” 

“You”, Jungkook points his finger at you. “Stop it.” 

You cackle. 

His features soften, a warm smile washes over his face. He gives up with a fond scoff and a little chuckle, closing the distance by grabbing your waist and pulling you snug against him. You and he sway from side to side, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. You have your arms hooked behind his head.

“You’re lucky that you’re so cute, otherwise I would have to bite your cheeks for your annoying antics”, he says.

“Mhm bite my cheeks you say? Ohoho mister what a thread, especially coming from a life sized choco ball such as yourself.”

“Yah”, he complains and gives your buttocks a squeeze. 

“Sorry, sorry last one I promise. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself”, you snicker, rubbing his neck in apology. 

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing his hands over your buttocks innocently. 

“It’s insane how good it fits you. Up close, you can really tell that you fucked it up, but it looks so good on you that it’s not even bad that you fucked it up.” 

“Is it really bad?”

“No, not at all. Your bangs are a little choppy, but it’s cute. Very handsome. Gosh”, you squish his cheeks, “your eyes look even prettier with this hair. It’s like they’re supporting each other’s roundieness. You’re seriously so handsome.” 

Jungkook smiles shyly, “thanks, heh. Roundieness isn’t even a word by the way.”

“It is now.” 

Jungkook simply furrows his brows and goes in for the attack. He bites your cheek. Gently of course. 

“Yah”, you step back, wiping the saliva from your skin. 

“I warned you and you wouldn’t listen. Consequences of your own actions, missy.”

“Don’t talk to me about consequences of my own actions, Mister Accidental Bowl Cut Which Aged Him Back Decades.”

Jungkook laughs and hugs your waist. You chuckle.

“Come on you, let’s go to bed and cuddle.”

“Yay cuddles. I swear today drained me. I almost fell asleep in the hot spring.” 

“Baby, you fell asleep. I had to hold your head so you wouldn’t accidentally drown.”

“I guess I did. I couldn’t help it. It was warm and cozy. I felt very relaxed.”

You and he get under the same blanket. He lies down on his side, you face him. His bangs fall to one side, now looking like those typical two thousand tens bangs every teenage boy had back then. 

You play with them, eyes spilling over with love.

“If I had met you back then, I so would have had a crush on you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm totally. You would have been my type. You are my type, but you get what I mean.”

“I do, yeah.” He smiles and reaches out to play with your hair. “You would have been my type too. Your mom showed me pictures of you when you were a teen and I would have had such a crush on you back then.”

“Oh god”, you chuckle, “I was such a mess though. Did she show you the pic of my clip in leopard print hair strands I rocked with black eyeliner?” 

“Of course she did. You totally rocked them.”

“No I didn't, I looked ridiculous.”

“At least you didn’t look like a circle.”

You laugh, “mhm maybe, but you’re the most handsome circle I have ever seen”, you say, pushing him to his back and climbing on his lap.

Jungkook holds your hips instantly, purring his words as he gazes at your lips.

“Yeah? I’m a handsome circle?”

“Mhhm the most handsome.”

“Hah, come and kiss me, baby.”

You smile, he smiles, sharing a breathy chuckle and little moan with you.

“Kiss me, please.”

“Fuck Kook, I can’t get enough of you”, you say and pull him into a deep kiss. 

[hederasgarden]

Under the Influence - Part 1

Summary: While investigating a suspicious pharmaceutical company, you and Clark find yourselves exposed to a drug that forces you to grapple with its unforeseen consequences. Pairing: Clark Kent x F!Reader  Word Count: 3.9K Warning: 18+ only, explicit sexual content. Dubious consent (reader and Clark are exposed to sex pollen), unprotected PIV, size kink, biting, angst and other untagged themes.  A/N: Thank you @ryebecca @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for holding my hand through this and Becca for beta’ing!

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Henry Cavill Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and the glittering skyline of Metropolis stretches out beyond the windows of the Daily Planet. The usual hum of activity in the bullpen is absent tonight – it’s just you, Clark, and an intimidating stack of boxes that seem to multiply with every passing minute. You may have indulged in a daydream or two about Clark just like this, but none of them ever involved so much paperwork.

You stifle a yawn, reaching for your coffee, only to nearly choke when you realize it’s gone cold. Grimacing, you set the offending mug aside and try to wash away the stale taste with water. The sound catches Clark’s attention and pulls him from his work. He offers you a wiry smile that you return, struck once again by just how handsome he looks. He makes it all too easy to have a crush on him, even though you know it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” he offers, stretching as he stands. 

Despite shedding his suit jacket earlier, and the way his tie is slightly askew, he still manages to look annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. You lean back to pass him your mug, your stiff muscles protesting. They ache from hours of sitting and sorting. 

“Back in a jiffy,” he promises, disappearing down the hall. 

By now, the two of you have been hunched over documents for nearly ten hours. Half of them are so technical they might as well be gibberish, but you’ve found a few leads in the financial papers. Unfortunately, your current stack of documents is so heavily redacted that they’re practically useless. You groan in frustration, resting your forehead on your arms until Clark returns, bringing the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee with him. 

You accept the mug with a smile but quickly set it on the table when the warmth that seeps through the ceramic nearly burns your fingers. Not for the first time, you wonder how Clark managed to get the ancient coffee machine to percolate so quickly. For everyone else, it typically spewed out lukewarm sludge.

“Bet you're regretting volunteering for this assignment now,” Clark says. 

“Not for a moment,” you reply. “You’re still sharing that byline with me, right?” You question, squinting up at him.

“I always keep my promises,” he says with such earnestness that you’re reminded once again why Perry liked to call him a Boy Scout.

“I’ll hold you to it because this story’s turned into a beast.”

Clark sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys the cluttered table strewn with file boxes and paper.  “It really has,” he agrees. 

When Perry called for a volunteer from the pool of junior editors to help with an expose on Salvation Pharmaceuticals, you jumped at the opportunity and not just because Clark was the writer assigned to the story. Most of your days were spent copyediting stories and arguing about AP style. You were just itching for some hands-on research experience, although neither of you expected the thread Clark pulled to unravel so quickly or so thoroughly. 

What started as an investigation into government kickbacks and dubious congressional dealings rapidly evolved into something far more unsettling. Salvation Pharmaceuticals’ R&D department was embroiled in deeply questionable research, from a gas capable of erasing memories to a potent drug they called a truth serum. All of their drugs had horrible side effects, particularly the latter which worked by lowering inhibitions but also triggered something they called sexual psychosis.

Clark’s freedom of information request resulted in your current predicament. Based on the sheer number of boxes they sent it was clear the company hoped to overwhelm you with an avalanche of data and make it difficult to find what you needed. Unfortunately for them, Clark Kent was one of the most determined reporters you’d ever met. If anyone was going to get to the bottom of the story it was him. 

“Well…once more unto the breach,” you quote, holding up a fresh box of files.

As you lift the lid, Clark offers you a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. For a moment, you’re too distracted by him to notice the cloud of yellow dust rising from the box. It quickly expands, swirling into a thick mist that engulfs you both. Immediately, your lungs begin to burn, and you gasp for air. You push your chair back and struggle to stand as your vision blurs. 

A strong arm around your middle hauls you back, dragging your feet on the carpet. Clark pulls you to the edge of the room, and you lean into him, desperately trying to clear your lungs. Behind you, he grunts, his fingers twitching and spasming against your hip. It takes several moments for the air to clear, but when it does, you watch in horror as the yellow dust seems to melt into your skin.

“What was that?” You ask, voice hoarse.

Clark is silent and looks grim when you turn to face him. “I think that was the truth serum. The reports described it as yellow dust.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “Why would the dust be in there?”

“I don’t know. But I can guess.”

You rub your chest and take a hesitant step back. “I don’t feel any different. Do you?”

“No.” He presses his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. “Do you feel anything?”

You exhale slowly, taking stock of your body. “Maybe?” Your response is more of a question than a definitive answer. You feel oddly warm, but it could just be the adrenaline from the situation. 

“You’re sweating,” he observes, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. The warmth of his touch makes you shudder and you can’t help but notice how good he smells. “Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, momentarily lost in his gaze. “You’re hot, too,” you blurt out, mortified when the words leave your mouth.

“I feel fine,” Clark replies, either misunderstanding what you meant or choosing not to acknowledge the slip.

You step away from him, feeling your body buzz with embarrassment. Sweat dots your brow, and you’re halfway out of your thin cardigan before you even realize it. As you pace the room, you realize Clark might be right — the powder could be affecting you. You try to shake off the disorienting feeling that lingers, while Clark tracks your progress with sharp blue eyes.

“Should we call someone? Isn’t there a protocol for dealing with mysterious powders?” It’s difficult to think straight when your body feels like a furnace. “Clark?” You question.

His nostrils flare but otherwise, he doesn’t respond until you say his name again. “Yeah. There’s uh, an anthrax protocol. Perry’s got it in his office.”

Time seems to progress in strange lurches and lulls as you wait for Clark to return. You’re not sure how long he’s gone, each minute dragging as the heat within intensifies and your thoughts become increasingly muddled. There’s a growing pressure in your stomach too, something that radiates down. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s persistently irritating — a prickling feeling that needs to be soothed.

“I made the call,” Clark announces, reappearing. “They said it’ll be 30 minutes until they get here with everything they need. We just have to sit tight.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. If it really was the truth serum, and you’re starting to believe Clark might be right, there’s no telling what might come out of your mouth. Even now, as you pace back and forth, you feel a pressure under your tongue, as though the words are lurking just beneath the surface, eager to spring out. The last thing you want to do is reveal your stupid little crush on him.

“God, it’s hot,” you muttered, staring at the window. You press your palms to the glass. It’s cool to the touch and you lay your forehead against it, almost moaning in relief. You wish you could strip off your dress and melt into the floor. 

“Here.” Clark’s voice is closer than you expect.

You flinch at the feel of his hand on your lower back but let him turn you around to face him. He presses a glass of cool water to your lips, and you grasp his thick wrist as he urges you to drink it all, your gaze never leaving his. The moment you finish your mouth feels dry and your throat itches. 

“You have the bluest eyes,” you whisper. “You shouldn’t hide them behind your glasses.” You reach for them, but Clark stops you with a gentle hand on yours. Embarrassment rushes under your skin, and you draw back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s the drug.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” You question. “You seem fine.”

“My biology is different from yours,” he says almost absently only to freeze a second later. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. For the first time since you met him, Clark looks genuinely unsettled. “The reports said it affected women quicker,” he adds before stepping back.

Your hand falls limply to your side as you watch him. Clark tugs at his already loosened tie, stretching his neck with an audible crack. A dark red flush creeps up his cheeks, making the skin around his eyes glow faintly. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Maybe I should wait in the other room,” he grits out.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Clark barely takes a step towards the door before a sharp, unexpected wave of searing pain rips through your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees. The impact jolts your entire body, but that discomfort is overshadowed by a deep gnawing ache between your legs. You pitch forward onto all fours, struggling as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

“Oh,” you whimper, terrified as your mind recalls the adverse event report for the truth serum with perfect clarity. 

Following an increase in basal body temperature, patients exposed to the drug exhibit symptoms of full-blown sexual psychosis. This condition necessitates achieving climax to alleviate symptoms. Patients who are unable to reach climax experience a marked increase in heart rate and blood pressure, which in some cases progresses to cardiac arrest.

Every muscle in your body tenses, as a fierce, relentless pressure builds. Then, like the tide, it recedes, leaving you curled into a ball on the floor. Through half-closed eyes, you meet Clark’s gaze. He kneels in front of you and his expression mirrors your anguish.

“Clark….”

“I know,” he says quietly. His hands hover at your shoulder for a moment before he finally helps turn you on your back.

None of this feels real; it’s like a twisted wish gone wrong.

“Help me, please,” you cry, the words escaping in broken sobs. You’re too hysterical to feel ashamed about what you’re asking him to do. Details from the report keep replaying in your mind, fueling your terror. You don’t want to die.

Clark looms over you, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You stare up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain in your core pulses and builds. The ache in the body is all-consuming, overriding everything else. Worse is the feeling of emptiness that you know he could fill. 

“Please.” Your voice fizzles out as a strong wave of pain slams into you. It leaves you reeling and disoriented. You claw at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. 

“I’m going to help you.” He says, his gaze lingering on you as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “If-if you want me to,” he adds, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up inside you. Of course you do, you’ve dreamed of him since the day you met him in the breakroom. You just never imagined this. 

When another cramp leaves you panting and desperate you grit out a pained, “Yes.”

His large hand encircles your calf, gently but firmly pulling your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The cool air makes you groan and you try to curl in on yourself again, but Clark pins you to the floor easily. With shaky hands, he drags your dress up to expose your simple black underwear. The sight seems to transfix him and you watch his chest rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths that mimic your own. 

“I have to ah, I have to…” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he shakes his head his glasses fall down his nose. “I need to get you ready.”

“I don’t care,” you sob. “Fuck me, please.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the part that's still you, is horrified by your words. You’ve never spoken to anyone like that, let alone a colleague or the man you have a crush on. But you know with a terrifying certainty that if he doesn’t fuck you, you’ll both die. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, the calm tenor of his voice betrayed by the way his hand trembles against your thigh. He tears off your underwear with an ease that would give you pause if you were in your right mind.

Shame is a thing of the past as you spread your legs even further, allowing his hungry gaze to drink its fill. He parts your folds and draws two fingers through the wetness gathered there, starting with light, teasing strokes that quickly build to more. When his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, he rubs slow, soothing circles until the pain in your stomach eases a fraction. 

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, sounding breathless. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

You moan his name and he shifts closer, bent forward to watch himself work. Soon one kind of pressure recedes and another begins. You gasp, throwing your head back as Clark continues his slow assault, building in its intensity. When your legs thrash his other hand settles on your hip, holding you still as he works a thick finger inside. Your cunt clenches in response to the intrusion. Above you, he groans and his thumb moves faster. 

“More, oh god I need more,” you beg, keening when Clark pushes a second finger inside. 

The stretch of them both burns but that’s eclipsed by the pleasure you feel. You rock forward, trying to take more of him but he doesn’t let you, controlling the pace. You can hear yourself babbling, nonsensical words streaming from your mouth as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm until, all at once, it overwhelms you completely. Your orgasm is almost painful and your hands curl into fists, your body contorting in response. The room blurs around you, and every fiber of your being is consumed by the relief you feel. 

When it passes you’re left trembling on the floor, avoiding Clark’s gaze. He hovers over you, his arousal hard to miss with the way it tents the front of his gray slacks.

“Clark.” You touch his chest, inhaling when his dark blue eyes snap up to meet yours. “Do you…” 

You can’t even force yourself to say it now that you’re back in your right mind. Clark shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers. You wince, and he looks pained. 

“We should —” he starts, but whatever he is about to say is abruptly cut off as he grunts and hunches forward, a visible shudder running through him. 

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his face. When your fingers brush over the curve of his cheek he moans and surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He forces his tongue inside and the heat of him is almost unbearable. You push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. His hands travel up and down your sides and you feel that familiar pressure return to your core. It builds slowly, like the spark of an ember that will soon flare into a blazing fire. 

You shift under Clark, drawing your legs up as he swallows down your needy whine. By the time he pulls away, you’re feeling dizzy and gasping for breath.

“We need to,” you begin, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembles.

“I know,” Clark replies.

He fumbles with his pants and you look up at the ceiling as he pulls himself free. It feels like a violation to look, but without your permission, you find your gaze drifting down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, just as big and thick as the rest of him. It’s red and weeping. Your cunt aches, and you toss your head side to side, trying to dispel the pain. 

Clark plants a hand near your head while he lines himself up between your thighs. He pushes inside slowly. It hurts, god, it hurts, but you need more of him, and you need it now. Wrapping his tie around your hand, you pull hard, urging him closer. He snaps his hip forward with enough force to jar your bones, and you wail in response. For one blissful moment, everything is quiet. Your buzzing mind and aching body are finally filled in a way they’ve been craving.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from Clark’s lips and brings you back to the moment. “You feel so good. You feel…” he trails off, his words bleed into one long, low moan that has you clenching around him. 

Above you, his handsome face contorts, his lips pressed tightly together. Tension lines the muscles of his jaw and his dark brows furrow in an expression that teeters between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure skitters along your nerves as he drives into you over and over again to reach some unknown place hidden deep inside. Your second orgasm rises to the surface just as swiftly as your first and Clark is relentless as he fucks you through it. 

There isn’t even time to catch your breath before his hands encircle your hips and he leans back, drawing you with him. The backs of your thighs drag over the fabric of his slack as he moves your body to meet his thrusts. As one orgasm fades you feel another spring to life, hastened by the feel of his calloused thumb on your clit. The need inside you burns even brighter, and a litany of desperate pleas spills from your lips. 

“You feel,” he pants, “just like I imagined.”

When you gasp his name he curls his body over yours, the new angle allowing him to move even deeper. You hold onto his biceps and listen to the desperate little noises that escape his chest with each thrust. His lips find the soft skin of your throat as his fingers dig into the neckline of your dress. He pulls hard and buttons scatter, giving him access to your shoulder. Teeth scrap over tender flesh and your back arches as another orgasm blooms in your stomach.

Waves of pleasure ebb through your body and your fingers tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark doesn’t falter even when you fall still beneath him. Your muscles ache, and your body feels tense and exhausted, but that frenzied need that’s driven you since the dust melted into your system slakes away until you’re left feeling everything. Guilt and horror fill your body like sand, weighing you down. 

Clark groans and you realize he’s still in the throes of the drug's effects. The ceaseless rhythm of his hips has turned painful and your insides feel raw. You push at his shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice, hitching your leg over his waist to push himself deeper. 

He shudders, gasping, “like that, just like that.” Then his teeth sink into your neck and he finally stills. 

Tears leak from the corner of your eyes as your breath comes in short little sobs, your heart fluttering in your chest. After a few moments, Clark stiffens and you know he’s come back to himself. He shifts, slipping out of you with a quiet exhale. You can’t stifle your whimper of pain and his gaze jumps to you. For a moment you stare at each other and the silence is deafening. Then he passes a trembling hand over his lips and rocks back, moving to his feet in a fluid motion. He turns from you to tuck himself away and runs a hand through his curls. 

You sit up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest while you hold the fabric of your dress together in an attempt to give yourself some dignity. It’s almost laughable after what just happened. Clark says your name and you stare at his outstretched hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. When he drops his jacket over your shoulders you feel a swell of gratitude. You let him guide you to a chair, wincing when you sit. Everything feels raw and tender. 

He clears his throat. “The response team is downstairs.”

“Okay,” you say numbly. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

You want to tell him it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, but the words catch in your throat. All you get out is his name. Nothing about this is okay. How could it be? 

You wait together, Clark standing half a step ahead of you while you stare at his broad shoulders, lost in thought. He’s the one to greet the men and women in hazmat suits. You don’t catch everything he says, but his eyes drift back to you as he speaks. Before long, you’re separated, and the last image you hold onto is his hair tousled from your fingers and his wrinkled, untucked shirt.

From there, everything becomes a blur; moments merge into a disjointed sequence — being herded into a decontamination shower, the uncomfortable scratch of paper scrubs against your sensitive skin, a distressing medical exam, and then the questions. Endless questions bring back the haze of disjointed memories you’re struggling to process.

By the time you’re allowed to leave, the first rays of light filter through the windows of the bullpen. You watch the soft golden glow and listen to the faint chirping of birds. The city is waking up, bustling to life as it always does, but you feel disconnected from it all until you step into the elevator and turn to find Clark standing there.

He halts the doors from closing, his sad, mournful eyes meeting yours. A powerful wave of emotion rises in your throat as the weight of his guilt and your embarrassment settles inside you like a stone. There’s so much you want to say, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overshadowed by a deep ache in your chest. You feel so lost and unsure, terrified about what lies ahead that tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. 

Clark exhales softly and steps back, but just before the doors close, he whispers your name. In that moment, everything else fades away — it’s just you, him, and all the unspoken words that linger between you.

Then, he’s gone and you’re left utterly alone. 

♡

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[jogetsobsessed]

One Night - Paul Lahote x reader

She's backkkkk! I know this isn't what you want, however, this survived the great laptop crash of 2024 (unlike the half-finished prophecy pt2 doc). This however is cutie in my opinion and I would be open to writing a part 2 (if anyone wants it). Also, I'm almost to 200 followers which is so crazy? Thank you for all the love!

---------------

“No, no, no, no”, you wailed as you looked at your hands. They were shaking as you clutched the plastic, the plus sign clear as day. Your body slumped down the wall of the bathroom, your body curling into itself as you hit the ground. 

What are you going to do? 

You were young, too young in your life to start thinking about starting a family. It's not even like you were seeing anyone. This whole situation came about after you had a bad day and just wanted to forget. To forget life and all your problems. 

You let yourself have fun, with someone you only kind of knew.  At the time that had seemed like the best plan. You knew of him and had met a few times through your friend Emily. It was better than prowling on some meaningless app that you would just delete the next morning. He was nice to look at, extremely cocky, kind of an asshole to everyone else, but always kind to you. 

The few times you had met Paul Lahote before your night of fun he had never gone out of his way to talk to you but that was okay with you. All the other boys that hung around Emily’s house could be way too much. Just dropping her off after work would lead to you being pulled into a two-hour conversation because none of them knew when to shut up. Paul however would always hover on the porch or somewhere else in your eyeline. He never came up to join the conversation but never left his spot of isolation either. 

So after a bad day at the clinic, Emily invited you back to her place for a drink and you accepted. Emily was your friend, one of the only actual friends you had made since moving to the Forks area six months prior. But you haven't spent much time together outside of work, except for riding to and from the clinic. 

But this shift had been so rough on both of you that you needed to vent to each other and get something in your system to make you forget a little. Cut to hours later neither of you notice her fiance and his friends walking in the house to you and Emily losing it on the couch, clutching your sides from how hard you were laughing. 

It wasn't even the alcohol necessarily, the two of you had split a bottle of wine but that wasn't enough to get you messed up to the point of uncontrollable laughter. No, it was finally being able to relax in good company, let loose and enjoy yourself. 

The boys had just snickered at the two of you, Emily’s fiance ushering them back into the kitchen to give the two of you some space. However, at some point, hunger struck and the kitchen was calling your name. 

Emily had declared nachos as the snack of choice and you couldn't agree more. She had charged through the sea of testosterone while you decided to timidly hug the doorframe, not knowing where to place yourself down. The kitchen was full of Sam’s friends and there wasn't a place to sit. You were thinking of slipping into the kitchen and leaning against the counter while Emily assembled plates of goodness.

That was until a particular tanned-skin boy stood up and very subtly gestured towards the chair. A sudden confidence had taken over you, and you certainly can blame that on the wine. Crossing the room in just a few paces you lower yourself onto the previously occupied seat and join the rowdy group at the table. 

Looking up you gave him a silent look of thanks as he stood, leaning his back against the countertop. He reciprocated a small smirk before returning his attention to the intense game of spoons that the other boys were trying to rope you into. 

After that, the night was a blur. You had played a few rounds of the card game, Emily eventually joining with heaping plates of nachos, placing herself in her fiance's lap. Paul had disappeared momentarily, reappearing with an old wooden stool, sitting directly to your left. 

You tried to focus on everything happening, but it was no use. All you could think about was that simple gesture of kindness. The act of chivalry that no doubt was gonna earn him some teasing from his buddies, which is what made it and him so much more attractive. 

Thoughts of the beautiful man plagued your mind the whole night and when he offered to drive you back home at the end of the night you accepted. He blamed it on the fact that he wouldn't feel right if he let you drive home after drinking, even if it was just a few glasses of wine and that had been hours ago. 

Even though you felt completely sober at this point as it had been hours and you had eaten your fair share of nachos you obliged, how could you pass up the opportunity for one of the most attractive men you had laid eyes on in a long time to drive you home? 

Attractive and chivalrous, two things he had going for him. 

The ride home was nice, the windows rolled down, and your hair flowed in the breeze. He drove smoothly and slowly, taking the winding corners with ease. A song that occupied the radio 24/7 played, and you were in such a state of comfort that you allowed yourself to sing along softly. 

It was weird, you barely knew this man, yet you felt so comfortable around him. Being in his presence was easy. 

Once your headlights illuminated the front of your modest home you felt your heart sink. This was it, your night of bliss was going to end. He threw the truck in park, turning to face where you sat. He opened his mouth, to say what you have no idea because you cut him off before he got the chance to speak. 

“Do you wanna come in?”. 

--------------

That night had been six weeks ago. And since then you hadn't seen or heard from him once. Not that you had reached out much. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward and complicated with a friend of a friend. 

Only now things were gonna have to be awkward and complicated, it was sorta unavoidable. 

Time paused as you sat there on the bathroom floor. Staring at the pinked-capped stick. Part of you wished you hadn't taken the test, even if that would have just avoided the inevitable for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks. 

Your head was reeling as you attempted to comprehend the news. On one hand, you had always wanted to be a mom and had dreamed of it. However part of the dream was a perfect house, a perfect job, and a perfect husband. Someone that loved you and supported you. Having a baby daddy that you hardly knew wasn't exactly in the picture. 

------------

At some point your body went on autopilot, you picked yourself off the ground and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. You didn't know what you were getting ready to do, you had already called out after you had woken up before the sun to empty your stomach of last night's dinner. 

The brain fog seemed to slightly lift once you were closing your car door, clutching the steering wheel as your life preserver. The pregnancy test in your pocket feels as if it weighs a thousand pounds. 

You felt insane. 

Who were you to go to this man who you barely knew and just throw this information at him, even if he deserved to know? Because this was his burden too. This wasn't an instance of immaculate conception, it took both of you to get into this situation. 

Recalling an earlier conversation with Emily where you had not so subtly asked what Paul did for work you remembered her mentioning the name of the garage. 

Since today simply could not get more insane you decided to embrace the insanity and started the drive towards the reservation. 

You practiced what you were gonna say over and over, but nothing sounded right. 

“Hey, remember me? I'm the girl you slept with once and ghosted, well I'm pregnant”. 

“Paul, remember me? Y/N, yeah so you kinda got me pregnant”. 

“Hey so remember when I told you that you didn't need a condom, well I say dumb things I don't mean when I’m around pretty people”. 

You were so screwed. 

----------

The parking lot was practically empty because of course, it was. Of course, there wouldn't be enough cars for you to blend in and hide for a little bit to gather your confidence. No besides your car there were only three others, and since you knew that Paul's truck was one of them there was a decent chance that the other two were also employees. The large bay doors of the shop were opening, one of the bays occupied with an old Volvo on the lift. 

Crossing the parking lot, the man of the hour caught your attention. Paul was alone in the garage. Grease and oil covered his hands and forearms as his attention was focused on the car above him. Patting your jacket pocket you made sure your proof was still there. You had only made it about halfway once he spotted you. He did a double take, a minor look of confusion showing. I mean why wouldn't he be confused, you weren't friends and here you were just randomly showing up at his place of business. 

Deciding to pull whatever last shred of confidence you had buried deep down you didn't turn chicken and run back to your car. No, you carried on walking, right up to the edge of his behemoth of a toolbox, slightly leaning on it to gain some support. The nerves make your whole body feel unstable. 

The wrench was abandoned, clattering inside said toolbox and he found a discarded towel that was so dirty it looked like it was only gonna make his hands worse. You couldn't help but study the way his body moved, how he looked in his work clothes, and how his muscles were contracting as he attempted to clean off the grime. Jesus Christ you need to get a hold of yourself, you thought. 

What you didn't notice was he was doing the same to you, looking you up and down searching for a reason as to why you were here. It wasn't until a breeze blew through the garage, that he realized he didn't only smell the dense forest and the various scents of the garage. It carried a faint smell of vanilla and lavender. But it wasn't just that, it was mixed with pine and rosemary. He bristled at the realization, the unique combination meant one thing and one thing only. It had been weeks since he last saw you there’s no way his scent would hang out on you that long unless…

Suddenly nothing else mattered except what you had to say. He wanted to help, to try and make the situation better. So he started to speak, to try and break this ice. But just like you had done weeks prior you beat him to the punch. 

“I’m pregnant”. 

The visible look of relief caused him to calm down, the last thing he wanted in this situation was for you to be stressed out. And the thought of you being so scared to talk to him broke his heart a little bit if he was being honest. 

“Is it mine?”. 

Paul could have ended it all in that moment. Why was he like this? 

He knew it was his, he had definitive proof, and he chose to play the idiot and make the woman who was carrying his child feel worse than she already did. 

“What the hell are you suggesting Paul? Yes it's yours, I wouldn't be telling you if it wasn't”. You crossed your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable and exposed. The confidence meter has fully run out. 

“Yeah no yeah. That um makes sense, I’m sorry. That was a real jackass thing to say. Of course you wouldn't tell me if it wasn't mine”. Paul rubbed the back of his neck as he rambled, avoiding eye contact with you. The magic inside of him was screaming at him, his instincts to protect almost taking over what little composure he held. 

He hadn't planned on telling you about the bond you shared. At least not for a while. 

You were still kinda new to town, and it wasn't fair to derail your life because you had decided to be a kind person and drop Emily off just a few weeks after you had moved. The bond had set in that day, as he was leaving Emily’s house and heading out to his truck. His eyes had darted up upon hearing Em’s voice and what he hadn't expected was to almost fall flat on his face. 

Because for a split second, the two of you made eye contact, it was fleeting and you had returned your eyes to your friend immediately. It had meant nothing to you and everything to him. 

Since that day he vowed to protect you but also to not act selfish and to allow you to make your own decisions.  Which is why he couldn't help but feel horrible. He had ruined your life. 

Paul thinks back to that night, running his mind over every minute, had you been drunk? He had only used that as an excuse to drive you home. But if you had been too intoxicated to make coherent decisions he would never forgive himself. 

“Yeah that was a real jackass thing to say”, you sniffled proud of yourself for not bursting out into heavy sobs. Because in all honesty while it felt like a physical blow hearing him question your morals he was handling the situation better than you would have if you were in his position. It was a fair question, you had only slept together once. 

The next few minutes seemed to pass slowly. After standing there basking in the awkward silence he told you to wait a second and walked into the attached office. You did as he said, too nervous to take the opportunity and leave. He returned a few moments later with much cleaner hands and a small smile graced his face. God, how you were growing to love that smile. 

“Boss told me to head out for the day, don't worry I only told him that I need to take a certain pretty girl out to lunch”, he sent you a wink as he slammed the lid on the toolbox down. Your cheeks grew warm at the compliment, even with how pg it was. I mean this man got you pregnant but him calling you pretty had your chest hammering. 

His hand found its way to the small of your back as he walked, ushering you out of the garage so he could lower the bay door. Once it was down he turned to face you with a smirk replacing the kind smile from earlier. 

“Come on doll, looks like I gotta feed my baby mama”. He howled with laughter as the small tinge of red on your cheeks turned into your whole face going crimson. “Oh this is gonna be fun”, he said through his laughs. 

His warmth on your skin brought you back to that state of peace that you remembered so fondly. You let him lead you towards his truck, thanking him as he shut your door. 

As Paul jogged to the driver's side a smile fought against the smirk. This wasn't how he pictured everything going but he wasn't mad. It wasn't like he got some random girl pregnant, no he got you pregnant. And while you may believe that you were just a random girl to him that was not how he felt. But he wasn't going to tell you that, at least not right now. The last thing he wanted to do was stress you out even more than you already were. 

So he was going to wait. 

He could learn to be content with you being in his life as a girlfriend, or even just the mother of his child. And when the time was right he would tell you.

But for now, he could wait.

[lavender-phoenix-flames]

I think it is quite funny jc stans and their relentless tries in making jiang cheng good and likeable or going extreme lengths to prove "look wwx is bad too so it's all equal haha"

At the end of the day the text disproves everything they made up, they can blissfully accept and argue their deluded fanon to be true but it never will be. And I sleep well at night knowing that mxtx made him a loser miserable asshole and I had enough reading comprehension to know that.

Also I know jc stans seethe at the fact wwx is the ideal protagonist that he is cuz when you compare jc to wwx you truly see how big of loser jc is, how much lacking he is in comparison. Wwx is so abundant in positive traits, he is literally so good at everything except cooking and then there's jc who barely has any good traits. Their tries to paint wwx as morally grey make them look like absolute idiots cuz the narrative and the author disproves the claim. "Oh but I don't agree with the author" well your approval doesn't matter cuz in mdzs universe wwx's actions are justified and jc's aren't, also most of jc's actions are presented in a negative light anyways.

They try and make him less of a loser making stuff up like "best jiujiu" "best sect leader" "oh look jc knew/predicted everything abt wwx" "wwx is reckless and impulsive and jc is so level headed" and none of these mentioned claims are true and even when author says he is despised by women cuz of his rancid personality they are like "no she is joking ofc ofc" or "he is actually aroace" and don't even let me get started on how they want to pair him up with lan xichen or nie huaisang when in text neither of them cares about him and the fact jc himself is a homophobe and they do it just cuz they want him to not die alone pfft.

Jc stans so delusional, I bet mxtx finds them so funny, I mean how can someone be so bad at reading lol

[nerdygaymormon]

Thoughts from Gather Conference

The first speaker at the Gather Conference was Dr. Greg Peterson, president of Salt Lake Community College. He described the model of a community college, which has a 100% acceptance rate, low tuition costs, and recognizes that not all students will get a degree but may be there just for a few classes or taking one class at a time as that's all their life can handle. A university, especially an elite one, has a low acceptance rate and a prescribed ways for how students should progress through school and earn a degree. It is designed for elite students who are likely to succeed in this model.

Gathering Zion should be more like a community college. It feels like Jesus runs a community college while our church runs an elite university as it caters to those who are likely to complete the covenant path without much to offer those whose life doesn't fit its model. As a queer person, I absolutely know what it feels like to not feel like I'm wanted or welcome at church because I'm don't fit the model and not likely (according to the leaders) to reach the highest heaven.

Jenn Blosil, who was a contestant on American Idol, is quite humorous and she performed a beautiful arrangement of the song "All Are Alike unto God." I hope her version gets released, otherwise I'm gonna have to rip an mp3 when the video is released.

In her presentation, Liv Mendoza Haynes commented "You can't parent a child who is gone" as part of talking about how parents need to be loving and affirming of their LGBTQ children because the consequences of rejecting this part of them has serious consequences. She also said when Jesus was suffering in the Garden, He didn't suffer for people simply because they're LGBT because that's not something to repent of, it isn't wrong.

I believe it was David Butler who said that being an LGBTQ Latter-day Saint is making communion out of contradiction. Many people think the two are incompatible yet we exist.

When we feel safe with others, we let down our guard and enter healing.

These next few quotes are something an individual (I can't remember her name) said to me.

"What do we know of God? One who creates and mentors. When we engage in acts of creativity and creation, when we engage in encouraging and including and loving others, that's when we're likely to feel the Divine."

"When we hide in the closet, when we hide who we are, we are hiding our light. Once there's a crack and we let someone know our secret that we're queer, the bright light comes flooding out of that crack. In a way, it is a birth. As we learn not to hid ourselves, we learn to see and be ourselves, to introduce ourselves to the world."

Someone asked, "Who is the protagonist of the Restoration? Is it Joseph Smith? Moroni? Neither, WE are!"

Dr. Lisa Diamond from the University of Utah shared some information from her research. Being a minority can feel like being threatened, we spend our time being on guard and feeling stressed. This causes our bodies to produce inflammation because that's useful if we might be wounded. But if there's not a physical wound, inflammation causes damage. As a result, minorities often suffer chronic health problems at high rates, such as diabetes, high blood pressure, anxiety, depression, and many other problems.

A panelist said that there's not a faith stronger than people who come despite knowing they aren't wanted. If there is a parable to exemplify this type of faith exhibited by queer people, it is the woman touching the fringe of Jesus' clothes.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sweet Pumpkin Chapter 5

Summary:  Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself.  He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended.  Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Warnings: mentions of past violence and past sexual assault, language, physical intimacy, eventual smut

**curvy reader

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Their relationship very quickly progressed after that.  Neither of them saw any point in waiting any longer when they both felt good about themselves and where the relationship was taking them together.  Bucky moved into her apartment, not bringing much of anything with him since he loved her stuff so much.  He only went on missions every once in a while, and only ones that were more stealth or surveillance.  He was tired, both physically and mentally, and ready for a slower, cozier life to settle into.

The hardest part was getting over the fact that she had other clients that she was helping and close with.  He met most of them in passing as they came in for appointments and he would disappear into the back rooms to let her work.  The jealousy of knowing that she was physically close with others like she’d been with him was hard to stomach, but his rational brain knew better than to fixate on the idea.  That was until she shut the door hard after a fairly new client he hadn’t met one day.  

Bucky opened the bedroom door and walked through the hallway to the main living room, finding Y/N hugging herself and leaning against the front door looking unhappy.  “Pumpkin?” he said, walking up to her.  “What’s wrong?”

Y/N shook her head and then rubbed her face harshly.  “I think I’m going to have to fire my newest client,” she said tiredly.

“Why?” Bucky asked, reaching up and grasping her hands.

Y/N looked up at him worriedly.  “Because he keeps pushing the contract boundaries.”

Bucky immediately became enraged.  He had to sign a contract when he first started working with her, and the rules and boundaries were extremely clear.  Y/N was a consummate professional, never pushing the boundaries beyond what was specifically listed within the contract.  She was friendly with her clients, as she had been with Bucky, but the second he had expressed feelings toward her she had ended their working relationship, she just so happened to reciprocate his feelings.  “Who is he?  What did he do?” he asked, trying to keep the anger and bitterness in his tone at bay.

Y/N sighed, and he could see she was upset but trying to keep her emotions under control.  “Helmut Zemo.  Retired Sokovian special ops.  He’s been very pushy about getting straight to the cuddling part, and just…” she swallowed harshly.  “He keeps giving me lingering touches on intimate parts of my body.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, his hands almost shaking as they held hers.  “Where?” he whispered, looking her over.

“My face,” she blinked rapidly to keep her oncoming tears back, her voice starting to wobble.  “My lower back, close to my butt.  And…” she paused, her lips trembling as she shut her eyes tight.  “He touched my breast.  He tried to play it off as an accident but…he squeezed it,” she released Bucky’s hands and hugged herself around her chest again.  

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his frown making his brow hurt from how tense he was.  He lifted his hands and cupped Y/N’s face, making her look at him.  Her tears started to fall and he quickly swept them away with his fingers.  “You’re going to call him,” he said, keeping his voice even and quiet, “and tell him that you’re voiding his contract for inappropriate behavior and touching.  If he decides to be an ass about it, I’ll take care of it.”

“Buck, you don’t have to–”

“Believe me, pumpkin,” he leaned down and kissed her nose.  “I’d love to.”

Y/N called the client a few minutes later, gripping Bucky’s hand tightly.  “Hey beautiful,” his voice rang out through the speakerphone.  

“You can’t call me that, Zemo,” she said simply.  “I’m just calling to inform you that our contract is officially void as of this moment, and I won’t be taking you as a client anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Zemo asked, his European accented voice angry.  

“Our sessions are canceled.  I will not be working with you,” Y/N said firmly.  

“And why may I ask?” Zemo sneered.

“For inappropriate behavior and touching,” she explained.  “Goodbye.”

“Y/N–” 

She hung up the phone and blocked his number, sighing heavily.  Bucky hugged her tightly.  “Good job, pumpkin.  I’m proud of you.  If he ever even looks your way again, you tell me and I’ll handle it.”

Y/N snorted.  “My big bad super soldier boyfriend is gonna come to the rescue?”

“Always,” Bucky said, kissing the top of her head.

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @cjand10 @railmesebstan @danzer8705

[ajalholland]

House-husband Sephiroth x reader

In the quiet home, Sephiroth stared at the mountain of dirty laundry, his brow furrowing as he tried to sort the various colors and materials that lay before him. The mighty warrior had to accept that, in this new realm of housekeeping, he was nothing more than a bumbling beginner.

He picked up a shirt, its sleeves stained with some unidentifiable substance. He had tried to cook spaghetti for the boys, but his skills in the kitchen, much like his laundry sorting, left much to be desired.

Kadaj and Yazoo were walking down the hallway, bickering amongst themselves as they approached their father.

"Old man, we're boooored..." Kadaj whined, flopping onto the floor.

Yazoo rolled his eyes at Kadaj and crossed his arms. "Don't whine so much, Kadaj. It's annoying."

Sephiroth smirked as his two sons approached him, their usual banter a familiar sound to his ears. He continued sorting through the laundry, his hands working busily as he addressed them.

"Bored, are you? Well, I suppose I could use some help with this mountain of laundry." He gestured to the pile of clothes before them, the different colors and materials creating a chaotic mess. "And it's dad to you, Kadaj."

Kadaj looked at the pile of laundry and screwed up his face in disgust. "Ugh, laundry?! That's for sissies!"

Yazoo rolled his eyes again at Kadaj's childish outburst. "You're just saying that because you don't know how to do laundry."

Kadaj stuck out his tongue at Yazoo. "Am not! Shut up, loser."

The two of them were like two peas in a pod sometimes, Sephiroth thought. Always competitive, always trying to one-up each other.

"Well, whether it's for sissies or not, it still needs to be done," Sephiroth said, a hint of sternness in his voice. "Besides, it's a good life skill to learn."

He looked at Kadaj, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And stop calling your brother a loser. We don't insult each other in this house."

Kadaj folded his arms and pouted, crossing his arms. "But it's true! He is a loser!"

Yazoo shot Kadaj a glare, his eyes lighting up with irritation. "Yeah? Well at least I'm not a crybaby!" Yazoo snapped back.

Kadaj's eyes widened in anger, his face turning red. "I am NOT a crybaby! You're the crybaby!"

Sephiroth pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache starting to form. These two were going to drive him insane someday.

"Enough, both of you," he said sternly. "You're siblings, not enemies. Fighting all the time isn't productive."

He looked at Kadaj and Yazoo, his expression firm. "And neither of you are losers or crybabies. Now, help me with this laundry, and no more fighting."

The boys looked at each other, then at Sephiroth, and then back at each other. "Fiiiiine," Kadaj grumbled.

Yazoo nodded in agreement, still looking annoyed. "Yeah, fine."

The two of them walked over to the pile of laundry and began sorting it into piles. Kadaj was still mumbling under his breath, clearly not happy about having to do housework.

Sephiroth watched as his boys began sorting the laundry, Kadaj being the less enthusiastic of the two. He knew they would complain at first, but hopefully, they would learn the value of housework in due time.

As the boys worked, Sephiroth thought about his days as a SOLDIER. Life had been much simpler then, with nothing but missions and battles to worry about. Sure, it was a hard life, but at least it made sense. But now... now he was a househusband, a role he never thought he would find himself in.

Sephiroth's thoughts were interrupted by a soft sob coming from the doorway. He looked up to see Loz standing there, his face red and his pants noticeably wet.

Sephiroth's expression softened immediately as he noticed Loz, his youngest son, standing in the doorway with tears running down his face. He immediately stood up and made his way over to him.

"Loz, what's wrong?" he asked gently, crouching down to meet his son's watery gaze.

Loz sniffled, his small body shaking with sobs. "I-I had an accident," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Kadaj and Yazoo looked up from the laundry they were folding, their faces registering surprise and then amusement at their brother's predicament. "Ha! You peed yourself again?!" Kadaj laughed, nudging Yazoo.

Yazoo smirked, "You're still just a baby, huh?"

Sephiroth shot Kadaj and Yazoo a stern look, silently scolding them for their reaction. They should not be laughing at their brother's accident.

He turned his attention back to Loz, his voice softening even more. "It's okay, son. Accidents happen. Let's go get you cleaned up."

He gently took Loz's small hand and led him away from his brothers, leaving them to continue sorting laundry.

Kadaj and Yazoo watched as their father led Loz away, their laughter not dying down.

Loz clung to Sephiroth's hand as they walked, his body still trembling. He was so ashamed of his accident. why do his brothers make fun of him? Is his father angry at him?

Sephiroth felt Loz's small hand trembling in his larger one, sensing his son's shame and fear. He knew how important it was to handle this situation delicately.

"Loz," Sephiroth said gently, his voice firm but kind, "it's okay. Really, accidents happen. No one is angry with you."

He knelt down to meet Loz's eyes, his expression earnest. "I understand it's embarrassing, but you don't need to worry. We'll make sure you get cleaned up and fresh clothes, and everything will be alright."

Loz looked up at his father, big tear drops still rolling down his cheeks. He sniffled and nodded, slowly starting to calm down a bit. But he still couldn't shake off the feeling of being a nuisance.

"I-I'm sorry," Loz mumbled, his voice small. "I didn't mean to. I don't know why I keep having accidents."

Sephiroth's heart ached as he heard the shame in his young son's voice. He didn't blame Loz for having accidents, it wasn't his fault after all. He knew his son couldn't help it.

"Loz, listen to me," Sephiroth said, his tone gentle but firm. "You don't need to apologize. But we need to find a solution. Can you tell me how it happened?"

Loz looked down at the floor, his cheeks turning red. "I-I was playing... And I... I just couldn't hold it," he admitted in a whisper. His lower lip trembled, feeling embarrassed and ashamed at the lack of control he has over his bladder.

Sephiroth nodded, understanding the situation better now. "I see. So you had an accident because you were too caught up in playing to notice when you needed to go," he said calmly.He gently placed a hand on Loz's shoulder, meeting his gaze. "It's okay. But you need to pay attention to your body. When you feel the urge to go, don't wait. Just pause your game and go to the bathroom. Okay?"

Loz nodded, his head still hanging low. He felt so embarrassed. "Y-Yeah, okay," he mumbled, still too ashamed to meet his father's gaze. Kadaj and Yazoo peaked around the corner.

Sephiroth glanced up at the corner where Kadaj and Yazoo were peaking and he shot them another stern look, silently reminding them not to tease Loz.

He turned his attention back to Loz, his expression warm and reassuring. "Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. Now let's go get you cleaned up."

Loz nodded again, his face still red with embarrassment. He held onto his father's hand as they continued walking towards the bathroom.

Kadaj and Yazoo quickly retreated from their spying spot.Sephiroth led Loz into the bathroom and guided him over to the tub, turning on the water and making sure it was the right temperature.

"Okay, Loz, you wait here for a moment. I'll go get you some clean clothes."

Loz nodded obediently and sat down on the edge of the tub. He tried to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, but they stubbornly continued.

Kadaj and Yazoo appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, holding a clean set of clothes. Kadaj handed them to Sephiroth, both of them looking sheepish.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at Kadaj and Yazoo's sudden presence, but he graciously accepted the clean clothes. He could tell that both of them felt remorse for their earlier behavior towards Loz.

"Thanks, boys," he said, his tone gentler now. He knelt back down to Loz's level. "Are you okay, Loz? Still feeling upset?"

Loz looked up at his father and nodded, his little body still shaking slightly with sobs. Kadaj and Yazoo stood a little awkwardly off to the side, their expressions now full of guilt and shame. They knew they had been making fun of their youngest brother but now, seeing him so upset, they felt like jerks.

Sephiroth's gaze flickered between the three of them, noticing the shift in Kadaj and Yazoo's behavior. It seemed like they had learned their lesson, seeing the effect their teasing had on their youngest brother.

He placed the clean clothes on the counter and then gently turned back to Loz. "Loz, take a few deep breaths," he instructed, rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back.

Loz sniffled and did his best to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. The tears slowly stopped falling from his eyes and his shaking slowed down a bit.

Meanwhile, Kadaj and Yazoo fidgeted nervously. They didn't know what to say, feeling guilty for their earlier behavior.

Sephiroth continued to comfort Loz until his sobs settled down to sniffles, his breathing becoming slower and more even. "Loz, hop in the tub and wash off, we'll be right outside." Seeing that his son was calming, he turned to Kadaj and Yazoo.

"Boys," he said, his tone calm yet firm, "can I talk to you for a moment?"

Loz nodded and began undressing, slowly climbing into the tub.

Kadaj and Yazoo looked at each other, a nervous look in their eyes. They knew they were in trouble. They followed Sephiroth out of the bathroom, closing the door behind them, leaving Loz to have some privacy.

Once the bathroom door was closed, Sephiroth turned to Kadaj and Yazoo, his eyes meeting theirs with a stern look.

"Boys, what you did earlier was not acceptable. Teasing and laughing at your brother while he was having a hard time is not how we treat each other in this family," he said, his voice firm but not angry.

Kadaj and Yazoo looked down at the ground, shame washing over them. They knew they were wrong and that they had hurt Loz's feelings.

Kadaj spoke up first, his voice small. "We're sorry, dad... We didn't mean to make Loz feel bad... We were just... messing around."

Sephiroth nodded, his expression softening at Kadaj's words. "Doesn't matter, what you did was wrong either way. Loz is your brother, and you should treat him with kindness and respect. Do you understand?” He looked at Yazoo next, silently urging him to speak.

Yazoo looked up, meeting Sephiroth's gaze, his expression still full of guilt. "Yeah... We understand. We shouldn't have teased Loz like that, it was mean and wrong," he agreed, his voice also small.

Sephiroth nodded once more, satisfied with Yazoo's response. "Good. I expect better behavior from you two. You're brothers, you're a team. You should lift each other up, not tear each other down."

He paused for a moment, looking at both of them. "And I expect you to apologize to Loz as well. Can you do that?"

Kadaj and Yazoo both nodded, their faces full of remorse. "Yeah... We'll apologize. We promise," they mumbled in unison.

Just then, the bathroom door opened and Loz stepped out, his hair still a little wet, but wearing clean clothes.

Sephiroth smiled as he saw Loz walk out of the bathroom, clean and dressed. "Feeling better, Loz?" he asked, gently tousling the boy's damp hair.

Loz nodded, a small smile on his face. He was still embarrassed about his accident, but the bath had helped him feel a little better.

Kadaj and Yazoo, feeling guilty, approached their youngest brother. "Hey, Loz," Kadaj began, his voice sheepish. "We're sorry for making fun of you earlier."

Yazoo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we were being jerks. You don't deserve to be teased like that."

Loz looked up at his older brothers, his cheeks still flushed from the crying earlier. He could see the remorse in their eyes and knew they were being sincere.

"It's okay," Loz mumbled, his voice still small. "I forgive you."

Kadaj and Yazoo breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that Loz was forgiving them so quickly.

Sephiroth watched the scene unfolding, feeling proud of all three of his sons. It warmed his heart to see them apologize to each other and make amends.

He placed a gentle hand on both Kadaj and Yazoo's shoulders and spoke up. “See, that wasn't so hard, was it? When we make mistakes, it's important to apologize and try to do better next time.”

Kadaj and Yazoo nodded, their shoulders relaxing under their father's touch. They knew that they had done wrong and had learned their lesson.

"Yeah... We'll do better next time," Kadaj chimed in.Yazoo nodded in agreement. "And we promise to be kinder to Loz from now on."

Loz, feeling more like himself now, looked up at his brothers with a small smile. He could tell they were sincere in their apologies.

"Thanks," he said, his voice soft. "I appreciate it."

Sephiroth smiled at the scene, glad to see that his sons had made amends. He ruffled Loz's hair gently before addressing them all. "Now that that's settled, how about you help me get dinner ready before your mother gets home?"

Kadaj and Yazoo both perked up at the mention of their mother. They always wanted to make her happy and help out.

"Yeah, we can help," Kadaj exclaimed, a smile on his face.

Yazoo nodded in agreement. "We'll help you get everything ready for when Mom gets home."

Loz, still a bit embarrassed, mumbled a quiet agreement to help as well. "I want to see mommy happy."

Sephiroth chuckled at their eagerness, the boys always enjoyed spending time with their mom. "Alright then, let's get to work," he said, giving Loz a comforting pat on the head.

Over the next hour, the kitchen was bustling with activity as the four of them worked together to prepare dinner. From peeling vegetables to chopping lettuce, they all worked in sync, each one contributing their part to make the meal just right.

Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz immediately recognized a sound, their attention shifting to the front door.

"Mommy's home!" Loz exclaimed, running out of the kitchen towards the front door. Kadaj and Yazoo quickly followed, both of them equally excited to see their mother.

Sephiroth smiled at their enthusiasm, knowing how much his sons missed their mother while she was at work. He also missed her, of course, but it amused him to see the excitement in his boys.

He finished washing his hands quickly with some soap before heading towards the front door, where the sound of the boys' chatter was already getting louder.

By the time Sephiroth reached the front door, Loz and his brothers were already swarming around (Y/n), all of them talking at once. She was at the door, pulling off her shoes and taking off her coat, bombarded by the three boys.

"Mommy!" "We missed you!" "We made dinner!"

(Y/n) couldn't help but smile as her sons surrounded her, their excitement and energy practically overwhelming her. She knelt down, trying her best to give each of them the attention they wanted, patting their heads and pulling them all in for a tight hug.

"I missed you all too," she said, her voice warm and loving. "You guys have been busy, huh? Making dinner with your father?"

"Yeah!" Yazoo exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "We've been helping Dad cook. We peeled the vegetables and chopped the lettuce."

Kadaj chimed in, "And we made sure everything was perfect for you, Mom!"

Loz spoke up next, "We even got your favorite dessert for after dinner."

Sephiroth approached the doorway, watching with a smile as his wife interacted with their sons. He leaned against the wall, enjoying the scene before him. It was moments like this that made him grateful for the family he had.

"They were all very eager to help," Sephiroth said, his voice soft yet amused. "Especially when they heard you were on your way home."

(Y/n) looked up at Sephiroth, her smile widening at the sight of him. "I can see that," she said, her hand still in Kadaj's hair.

She chuckled, imagining the antics they had gotten up to in the kitchen, and the mess that must have been left behind. "I hope they didn't cause too much trouble for you," she added, her voice teasing.

Sephiroth shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "Not too much trouble. Just the usual amount of chaos," he replied, his voice equally cheeky.

"Hey! We didn't cause that much trouble!" Kadaj protested, pouting a bit. Loz and Yazoo nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, we were just having fun!" Yazoo chimed in.

"We wanted to make you happy, Mommy," Loz added, a pleading look in his puppy-dog eyes.

(Y/n) chuckled at their protests, her expression soft and warm. "I'm sure you had fun," she said, tousling Loz's hair affectionately. "But I know you can be quite the troublemakers."

She stood up from her crouched position, looking at her sons with a loving smile. "But I appreciate your efforts to make me happy. You all did a great job."

Kadaj and Yazoo beamed at her words, preening under her praise. Sephiroth moved closer, wrapping his arm around (Y/n)'s waist as he spoke, "They were on their best behavior. Well, as best as possible for them, that is,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Loz, not wanting to be left out, tugged on (Y/n)'s shirt, "Hold me, mommy!"

(Y/n) laughed, leaning into Sephiroth's touch as he wrapped his arm around her. She turned her attention to Loz, who was pulling on her shirt.

"Of course, my little one," she said, scooping Loz up into her arms and holding him close. "Did you miss me that much?"

Loz nodded vigorously, snuggling into his mother's embrace. "Mhmm," he mumbled, burying his face in her shoulder.

Sephiroth chuckled, looking at the spectacle with a smile. "Where's my attention?" he said, his tone lighthearted. "I'd like that kiss you owe me."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes playfully, a small grin on her lips. "Oh, I see how it is," she teased, holding Loz a little more secure in her arms. "You want some special treatment too, huh?"

She turned to face Sephiroth, meeting his eyes with a smirk. "Can't a woman hug her child without being interrupted by her husband's demands?"

Sephiroth shrugged, feigning innocence. "I can't help it if I want a little affection from my beautiful wife," he said, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief. "And the boys have been hogging you ever since you got home."

(Y/n) laughed, the sound warm and sweet. "You're such a drama king," she teased, shaking her head. "But I suppose I can spare a moment to give you some attention."

She leaned in, keeping Loz balanced in her arms, and gave Sephiroth a quick, playful kiss. "There, happy now?"

Sephiroth chuckled, pretending to pout. "That was barely a kiss," he complained, the corners of his mouth twitching with a smile. "I think I deserve a little more than that."

Loz, still in (Y/n)'s arms, let out a soft giggle watching his parents banter.(Y/n) chuckled again, rolling her eyes fondly. "Oh, you're not going to let me get away with just a quick peck, are you?"

She shifted Loz in her arms, trying to balance him while still giving Sephiroth a proper kiss. She leaned in again, her lips meeting his in a more lingering kiss, holding it a few seconds longer before pulling back with a smile. "Is that satisfactory, you needy man?"

Sephiroth's eyes lit up with a satisfied gleam as she kissed him more properly this time. "Much better," he said with a smirk, pulling her a little closer against him by her waist.

Loz, squeezed between his parents' embrace, wriggled and protested, "Eww, gross!" Kadaj and Yazoo laughed, before darting off into the dinning room.

(Y/n) couldn't help but join in the laughter, chuckling as Loz protested being squished between her and Sephiroth. She ruffled his hair affectionately before turning her attention back to her husband.

"You're insatiable," she teased, her words lighthearted. "You have a one-track mind, you know that?"

She glanced towards the dining room, where the other two boys had darted off to. "Should we go check on them before they cause any mayhem?"

Sephiroth laughed at her comment. "You're one to talk," he replied, a smirk still playing on his lips. "And yes, we should probably make sure they're not ransacking the kitchen or starting a food fight."

He took a step back, his hand still on her waist, and nodded towards the dining room. "Lead the way, my dear."

(Y/n) smiled at Sephiroth's response, shaking her head in mock annoyance. She moved with him towards the dining room, still holding Loz in her arms.

She loved her family.

[pocket-solas]

Tendrils of green mist swirled around the two lone figures framed within ancient broken ruins. The smaller of the two reaching to find purchase amongst the furs the other wore upon his chest.

"I did not wish for you to see what I've been forced to become."

"Forced by whom? Yourself? You have real people here who care for you!"

"Stop. You cannot understand."

Stung, Lavellan drew in her chin. "Evidently neither can you." She continued to grasp his shoulders. She wanted to shake him, rattle his brain around a bit in that damnably hard head of his. "You said yourself I saw more than most. There has to still be some part of the man I fell in love with left."

"Vhenan." The word spoken like second nature still cuts deep. Both of them flinch involuntarily. His hands finally find her arms, holding a moment before firmly pressing them away. "You cannot dissuade me from this course."

"That's not why I'm here." Lavellan refuses to accept his rebuttal, she cups his face instead, trying to embrace him like grasping at smoke. "You call me 'your heart', even now, and yet you try to distance yourself as far from me as possible. Solas..." She tugs his face closer, their eyes seeking the depths of the other. "I refuse to give up on you."

He doesn't offer an answer.

His hands seek her wrists, gripping for a moment as though to push her away yet he stills and rests there, holding her to him. His lips part, wishing to speak, but they both know no words can do justice to the depths of emotion they've both waded through.

She takes in a slow lungful of air, feeling his warm breath mingle with her own. Her thumbs stroke over the sharp angle of his cheekbones, across the freckles smattered on fair skin like stars.

Her eyes fill with tears.

"Don't." His voice breaks on the pleading word, his arms encircling her body, holding her to him as she fights to remain poised.

"You're such an ass."

"I know."

"Why must you push me away only to linger in the periphery of my life?"

Solas presses his forehead against hers, his nose brushing against hers. "You know why." His hands grasp the curve of her waist, pulling her closer. "You are my weakness, my love. The one thing in this world that came close to toppling all my careful plans."

"Solas..."

"I thought I could rend the connection between us as surely as I will the Veil." His next breath is shuddering, his hands flex against her. "I've failed in that as well."

Her hands still cup his face, unable to school her desperation for some glimmer of hope for them. She pulls back enough to study his expression, the dark circles beneath eyes the color of a dusky eve. "I love you."

"I know, vhenan."

"But it isn't enough."

"No. It is not." He takes her hand, the one that bore the anchor, and kisses the palm. "Understand what I must do will never change how I love you."

She grasps his hand like a lifeline, her eyes growing wide with desperation. "Solas, please. Don't leave me."

He presses the leatherbound wolf jaw necklace into the palm he'd just kissed. "I will forever be with you, my heart."

It was always easier for him in the Fade.

[jewish-vents]

I wish goyim on the left would stop pretending they care about Palestinians. If you're willing to let Trump, who has said he wants to bomb Palestine so hard it turns to rubble and pave over it to make it into a parking lot, take control of the White House, you're not pro-Palestine. Your refusal to vote for someone who won't slaughter every single Palestinian happily allows someone who will to take power, meaning you've effectively just said "fuck it, I'm cool with genocide, actually" with more steps. And if you're that kind of evil, I think it's a bit late to pretend you care about anyone but yourself.

This isn't remotely related to caring about others. This is about feeling good and hating Jewish people, often to the point of not using the word 'people' to describe us, ever, under any circumstances. You're willing to let thousands of people be bombed to death if it lets you hate (((the Jews))) openly without repercussions. I get that. Hatred is a helleva drug and overdosing is easier than sobriety. But just say it. Just stop pretending altruism is a part of this and say it with your whole chest. You're not convincing anyone.

As someone with diagnosed lack of empathy, I can spot fake empathy a mile off. I know what it's like to have to feign empathy in order to avoid being viewed poorly by others. This is not that. This is feigning it on a grand scale by people whose actions will actively lead to the wholesale slaughter of the ones they're pretending to care about.

And then they want me to feel guilty for being Jewish. No. Firstly, I don't feel guilt. Secondly, I am not going to feel bad about harmless things. It's particularly egregious when I, someone with Anti-Social Personality Disorder, can logic my way to "we need a solution where neither side gets wiped out of existence" while people who don't even have a diagnosed problem earnestly go, "I'm not voting for Kamala because I'm such a good person! All Palestinians dying horribly is a totally acceptable price to pay for me feeling good and getting to hate Jews!"

Seeing them call themselves caring is like seeing people in fandom argue that Johnny the Homicidal Maniac is a nice guy - no, you're wrong, and also, are you fucking kidding me? Really?

.

[postsn-stuff]

A Christmas Tradition

It was the Christmas after Armageddidn’t. Crowley and Aziraphale had been invited to the Pulsifer-Devices’s for a Christmas Eve party. Aziraphale had, of course, accepted for both of them and dragged Crowley along with him, despise the demon’s protests.

“It’ll be fun Crowley! And besides, it’s good to keep up with one’s friends- especially the ones that you helped stop the apocalypse with.”

“Fine, angel, I’ll go. But, I’ll have you know, i’m just going for the alcohol.”

So, they went. It was a beautiful afternoon, the snow sparkling and christmas lights twinking merrily all across Tadfield. The Bently left tracks in the snow as it sped towards Jasmine cottage, the two ethereal beings inside arguing amicably about the merits of egg nog.

“Egg nog is nasty, angel. It smells like farts.”

“Egg nog is a classic Christmas drink! That’s practically blasphemy.”

The Bently pulled up in front of Jasmine cottage exactly 10 minutes early, due to the demon’s speeding. The odd pair stepped out of the car and headed towards the door, arms full of presents for their human companions. Neither of them noticed the bundle of green dangling above the doorway.

Crowley reached out with his free hand and knocked on the door of the cottage, still debating with Aziraphale about egg nog. “No, angel, I will not just ‘give it a chance’. I’ll probably get indigestion.” (Demons obviously don’t get indigestion unless it’s extremely convenient to annoy a certain angel.)

The door was pulled open. “Merry Christmas!” Anathema exclaimed.

“Happy Christmas to you as well, dear!”

Crowley made to step inside, but Anathema held out a hand to stop him. Newton appeared behind Anathemas shoulder, a small smile on his face. “Happy Christmas!” He and Anathema took their presents from their hands. “You can come in, but first…” He raised his hand and pointed above the pairs heads.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked up in sync, both realizing what was dangling above their heads at the same time.

Crowley started sputtering incomprehensibly, while a small frown appeared on Aziraphale’s face. “I suppose we must, dear. It is traditional, after all.”

“Angel…”

The frown on Aziraphale’s face deepened.

“Oh, fine.” Crowley leaned in, intending to place a light peck on the angel’s cheek, the echos of ‘you go too fast for me’ still echoing in his head after centuries.

Aziraphale went on his tiptoes and met Crowley halfway, but instead of turning his head so Crowley could reach his check, the angel lightly pressed his lips to the demon’s, then pulled away.

The kiss lasted maybe half a second, but in that half second Crowley’s entire brain simultaneously imploded and turned to mush. He stared at the angel, too shocked to even produced his usual incomprehensible syllables.

“Well, dear, shall we go inside?” Aziraphale smiled at his friend, somehow hiding how flustered he was as well.

Anathema and Newt turned and grinned at each other. “Yes, come in! We have egg nog!”

Still in shock, Crowley trailed after the angel as he strode into the cottage, while a small portion of his brain devoted itself to committing the last few minutes to his memory.

[cartoontees]

hilarious that some of the prominent demon slayer characters with colored hair get explanations, but the vast majority don't. i mean i was all for just accepting it was anime logic but then they had to go and acknowledge it by giving crazy explanations for a very select few.

zenitsu had a normal hair color but it turned yellow and orange when he got struck by lightning. ok, sure!

mitsuri was born with a normal hair color but it turned pink and green from her eating a really massive amount of sakura mochi... alright!

rengoku also says at one point that he thinks his family has bright yellow and red hair because his ancestors ate a ton of shrimp tempura. whatever you say! that's how it worked for kanroji after all!

these two are unexplained but maybe uzui and sanemi maybe went gray/white at young ages due to the stress of their environments? neither of them had a very good childhood after all.

but then.... there's these bitches.

no explanations given. this is just how they are, i guess. pink hair is WEIRD, but peach hair is unquestioned. maybe the rest of them dye their ends. who knows. anime logic.

[thefabulous-mostgroovy]

.

[lets-all-calm-down-a-bit]

@bloogers-boogers ermmm... as a thank you for the style drawing i uh... i made a stutters drawing for you cause i saw you said you wished there was more stutters content-

[prolibytherium]

Absolutely death gripped clenched trying not to comment on reductive posts on ancient greek homosexual relationships

[crescentfool]

with the year coming to a close, i hope that anyone who's reflecting about how the year went remembers to be kind and fair to themselves with how you evaluate the year as a whole.

i think there are definitely times when life throws things that are... Not So Great at you. whether if it's some external circumstance that surprised you, or maybe your mentality wasn't at it's best. i wish for anyone who's encountered those kinds of challenges to be able to triumph over them and be able to say that they got through it.

heck, it might still be a work in progress even though you've kept chipping away at it, and that's ok! the results will show themselves eventually as you work through it! and i hope that we can all remember to be patient with ourselves as we go through these processes (learning, healing, etc.), because damn, it can be frustrating when you feel like you're "not there yet."

knowing that life can be rough at times, i think it's unfair to yourself (and others) to discount and downplay any progress you've made this year- whether if it's something that you did for the first time, or maybe you came to a new understanding and insight that you didn't have in the previous year.

it's not to say that you should undermine the validity of your experience with hardship, but to take the time to remind yourself what makes life worth living. to recall what moments were the most satisfying to you- and use it to strengthen your resolve for the next year and beyond. no amount of hardship will ever take away from the fact that you deserve to have hope that things will get better.

i hope that looking back on the year, you don't leave out the things you cherish. that you can remember the good that came this year. whether if the small victories are things like meeting someone new, trying something out for the first time, or making some strides in a long-term project/obligation...!

i wish everyone a happy new year! may it be prosperous, and that your life can move in a direction that's close to what you want out of life. you're all going to do great! remember to congratulate yourself for what you did well! despite everything, you're still here, and that's wonderful. never forget that!

[demons-i-get]

WAIT BIG BRAINED THOUGHT:

Sam does smth stupid hoping Dean won't find out.

Someone rats Sam out to Dean.

Sam gets in trouble and a lecture from Dean (bc Dean is a parent and he is Sam's parent I will not accept criticism on this matter).

Later, Sam makes a group chat consisting of everyone who could have told on him to Dean and just sends this video: