#but if your spouse spends too much time in bed she's a lazy fuck?

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[samwpmarleau]

Rebecca, Keeley, and Julie Higgins 👀

I FORGOT ABOUT THIS, SORRY

One-night stand: Rebecca. I think she’d be a bit too intense for me long-term, but one night is doable. Plus, much like Dani, canonically she can get it and doesn’t have a tolerance for below-average or lazy work, so it’d be a good time. And we can be friends after :)

Best friend: Julie. I would be devastated for her and Leslie to have any sort of rift caused by something like a one-night stand, and of course, she’s already married. She’d be a baller best friend, I think! She’d go to the mat for you, and she’s raised five boys, two dogs, and one cat in a tiny house, so you know she’s got good organizational skills and doesn’t take shit from anyone. The perfect mom friend.

Spouse: Keeley! She’d be both of the above combined into one. Good in bed, overprotective as fuck, and endlessly kind and generous without letting people take advantage of her. She’d be such a great person to spend your life with.

———

send me three characters

[mrs-gucci]

Spousal Privilege {Henry McHenry x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! I deleted the original request accidentally, but essentially, it was the prompt written below, but instead of getting married for tax benefits, you get married because he needs you to help keep him out of jail/the courtroom for Ann’s murder. 

**just because I write it doesn’t mean I condone it. writing a fictional piece and condoning are two very different things. this is fanFICTION.**

original prompt (from @dailyau): “we got married for tax benefits, but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. However, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.” (slightly modified) prompt: “we got married for [the benefit of spousal privilege], but but you aren’t in love with me and I didn’t develop feelings for you until after we got married. in practice, we’re just roommates. however, we’re staying over with someone who knows that we’re married but not why we’re married so we were only provided with one bed for our stay.”

warnings: angst & smut. not-so-mutual feelings. non-con elements (but they’re not unwelcomed). taking advantage of someone else’s feelings for you to benefit sexually. masturbation. (kind of) mutual masturbation.

tw’s: consumption/use of alcohol (briefly mentioned). !!non-con somnophilia. !!non-con voyerism.

word count: 2.4k

“Spousal Privilege”: if you’re married, your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you in a court of law.

my taglist peeps (slashed through means that the username didn’t tag): @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​  @gildedstarlight​ @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy @I-can’t-draw-faces (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

“It’s just one weekend, Henry. One weekend. We have to at least pretend to be married.”

He sighs, reclining on the large lounger on the back deck, rolling an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “Y/N...you know that I can’t come with you. I’ve got a show this weekend; I can’t just skip my own show to be your plus-one at a wedding.”

It feels like you’re the only one actually trying to appear as a couple, since your union is a sham. You made the grave mistake of visiting the McHenry residence on the night of Ann’s murder, finding a blood-spattered and disheveled Henry with his hand on the butchers knife impaling her chest.

And then, a few weeks later, your friendship became a marriage. You knew Henry was a good guy, and you’ve been friends with him a very long time, so...you helped him out by becoming the second Mrs. McHenry in order to protect him in case of a criminal trial. Spousal privilege is a powerful weapon in the judicial system, one that Henry successfully secured. 

Almost a year has passed since that fateful night, and the police investigation has all but stopped due to lack of evidence. The only living people who know what happened are you and him.

The worst part of it, though? You’ve fallen for him, hard. Sure, he’s been your friend since high school, but you never thought of him as partner material before. But, now that you live with him and spend lots of time together, you realize that he’s an amazing guy that you really feel connected to.

Unfortunately, he’s not in love with you, and probably never will be. But, you soldier on, putting your feelings on the backburner for the sake of the false union.

Henry sticks the cigarette between his teeth, the familiar flick of the lighter slicing the tension between you. He takes a long drag, exhaling loudly.

“Fine. But at least I’m actually trying to make this whole arrangement seem real. At this point, I’m the only one trying at all.” You huff, shaking your head as you walk back into the house.

-

You arrive at the large rented house for the bridal party, greeted by several of your closest friends as you walk through the door. Immediately, they ask about Henry, and you tell them that he won’t be joining you this weekend, that he has a show that he just can’t miss.

They’re understanding, of course, knowing of Henry’s blossoming career as a comedian. You spend the rest of the afternoon catching up with your friends, who seemed to be acting a bit strangely. They’re looking towards the lobby religiously, seemingly waiting for someone to arrive.

Probably just one of their boyfriends or husbands, you think, dismissing it with little thought as the waiter comes over with a tray of cocktails.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally head back up to your room, eyelids heavy as you fumble with the key and open the door. You’re startled when you see a large shadowy figure sitting on the queen bed. 

You quickly flip the lights on to reveal the mysterious figure’s identity.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

He stands, grabbing a small bouquet of flowers before bringing them over to you.

“I’m sorry for being so unreasonable about this trip, Y/N. You’re right, I haven’t been trying as hard as I can to spend ‘couple’ time with you lately. And I know how important this trip is, so...I postponed my show to next weekend in order to be here with you.”

You’re unable to stop the grin that spreads across your face at this genuinely kind gesture that he’s done for you. You take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“Wow, this is...thank you, Henry.” You meet his eyes. “I mean it, thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re here.”

His cheeks are dusted pink as he looks down at the carpeted floor, running a hand through his hair.  “It’ll be nice to spend some time together, I think. We’ve been a bit disconnected lately, off doing our own stuff without really connecting all that often.”

You nod in agreement, filling one of the hotel glasses with lukewarm water for the flowers. You set them on the desk, then look over at the bed. 

Bed, not beds. 

“I...I can ask for a different room. She just put us in here because she knows we’re married...”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. We’ll make do.”

You’re a bit surprised by his mellow, chilled reaction to the situation. You thought surely he’d want to change rooms, since the two of you have never shared a bed before. 

Really, at home, you’re just roommates; each having your own separate living spaces. But of course, your friend Jen doesn’t know of the...unique aspects of your outwardly loving union, like the fact that it’s not genuine.

Both of you quietly unpack your things into the shared dresser. You keep your pajamas out and after you place your emptied duffle in the closet, you shed your top and bottoms, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

When you turn around to grab your pajamas, you catch Henry looking at you, a fact that brings a sheepish warmth to your cheeks. He was shirtless, standing in only his black jeans, which has you quite flustered. Henry’s very much in shape, you’re painfully aware of that in the moment, and you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his chiseled abdomen.

His eyes quickly dart away from you, as yours do from him, and his cheeks turn pink. He continues folding his clothes, putting them in the top two drawers of the dresser. You bite your lip as you grab your pajamas and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The mirror blurs with steam from the hot water as it emerges from the shower head. You’re quick to peel the panties from your hips and the bra from your chest, tossing both on the tiled floor before stepping under the steaming stream. 

You groan softly as the hot water massages your tired muscles. The ache between your thighs is anything but soothed by the water, though, and your mind is playing the sight of Henry’s sculpted body on a loop, only intensifying your arousal.

It’s gotten to the point where the need for a bit of relief is inevitable, despite your efforts to prevent it.

Your hand trails down and dips between your legs, fingertips sliding around your slickened folds, attempting to locate the special bundle of nerves nestled beneath.

Breath hitching, you sigh softly as you begin rubbing it in small, lazy circles. Small gasps and moans escape your lips as the flames of your arousal are flamed with each swipe of your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, Henry has abandoned his putting-away efforts in favor of standing outside the bathroom door. He’s heard a few soft, muffled noises coming from the room, so he decided to approach and make sure that nothing’s wrong.

His length twitches to life beneath his jeans as he realizes what exactly it is those noises mean, what you're likely doing in there. He wonders, as he reaches down to cup his swelling arousal, if this was brought on by the sight of his naked torso.

You exhale shakily, lining up and pushing two fingers into your wet heat, biting your lip to try and suppress the gasp that escapes your throat. 

Henry grunts softly upon hearing this slip-up, shaky hands fiddling with his belt buckle, then with the button and zipper on his pants. He pulls his cock out in a rushed manner, ear pressing against the door while his hand starts to move up and down his shaft.

He hears something come from behind the door, but it’s too muffled by the wood that he can’t make out exactly what you said, which is probably a good thing.

“F-Fuck...Henry.” You breathe quietly, moving your digits in and out of your entrance swiftly, curling them up sporadically in order to tease your g-spot. “Shit.”

A low growl slips out as his length hardens further with his hand’s movements, slit starting to drool semi-transparent beads of liquid. He slicks them down his shaft, allowing his calloused palm to glide easier.

Your release quickly builds up inside you, hips jerking and twitching instinctively each time your fingers stimulate the special spot on your inner walls. It’s not long before you’re cumming all over your fingers with a series of soft moans and whines.

These small noises meet his ears and, within a minute, Henry reaches his own climax. He covers his mouth, a long groan muffled by the skin of his palm as ropes of seed spill out all over his palm and some onto the doorframe.

He rushes to wipe the evidence of his release from the scene, scrambling to grab his dirty t-shirt in order to do so. He hears you stepping out of the shower and quickly tucks himself back into his pants, running over to sit on his bed.

You emerge from the bathroom a minute or so later with only a towel on. He avoids eye contact, gathering his own clothes and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.

You’re already tucked into bed and reading when Henry comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, ruffling his hair with the towel once more time before hanging it back up on the bathroom hook. 

After finishing a chapter, you tuck your bookmark back between the pages before setting it down on your bedside table, turning the lamp off. You doze off soon after.

Henry waits patiently, very patiently, until he’s absolutely sure you’re fast asleep. His cock twitches and stirs in his boxers as he thinks about his plan of attack, how he’ll do this without waking you.

He knows this is wrong, but he just can’t help himself; it’s been too long and his hand simply isn’t doing this trick anymore. And you are his wife, after all.

His fingers reach under the covers, experimentally dragging his hand up your exposed thigh. You don’t seem to really mind, but an innocent-enough thigh touch and his cock inside you are two very different things.

So, he figures that he should probably try his fingers first. At least that’d be easier to explain in the event that you wake up and find him knuckle-deep in your cunt.

Sure, he thinks you’re physically attractive, objectively, but he doesn’t have any more than sexual feelings for you. You’re his best friend and he wants to keep it that way.

But...all that can wait until tomorrow. For now, he needs this from you; he desperately needs this.

You’re laying on your front, so he’s careful as he mounts you from behind, gently encouraging your legs apart with his knee. Once you’re spread apart enough, he slips his hand down to cup your crotch, biting his lip when he feels the natural heat already present. 

He smirks, slipping his fingers between your pussy lips, searching for the spot that’ll get you nice and wet for him. Your hips naturally surge upwards when he finds it, a small grunt escaping your lips, but you remain asleep.

A breath of relief slips through the gaps of his perfectly crooked teeth as he continues rubbing you. It’s not long before you become slick, providing the natural lubricant for his fingers to glide easier.

His fingers begin to tease your puckered entrance, and he slowly slides one of the thick digits in, groaning under his breath as you clench so tightly around him. 

“Little slut. Wants it even in her sleep.” He muses with a devious smirk, beginning to move his finger in and out with great care and caution.

You moan softly, subconsciously spreading your legs wider for him. He shudders with arousal at this simple movement, palming his hardened cock over the thin material of his boxers while a second finger joins the first inside of you.

He’s so hard, he almost can’t see straight, absolutely loving the way you react to his touch. You’re fast asleep, unaware of his touch; and yet, you’re still soaked and squirming for him. There’s something so deliciously wrong about this that makes him throb.

Soon, he can’t hold himself back anymore. He pulls his cock from beneath the airy fabric, stroking himself as he allows his hand to run over your backside. His jaw clenches, suppressing the moans that so desperately want to come out.

Finally, the moment of truth. Will you wake up when he slides in?

The buzz, the adrenaline rush he’s getting from this is practically unmatched by anything in his day-to-day life. Not even his shows, his performances bring him this much of a rush.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly, biting down on his lip hard as a soft groan slips out. You’re so tight, so wet, so hot, so perfect. 

You moan loudly, body and hips wriggling as your insides adjust to his length and thickness. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stay still, to let you adjust to the sudden intrusion. He wants nothing more than to pound you into the mattress and cum deep inside you, but he can’t do either of those things.

His hips roll softly, gently, cock dragging against your walls at an almost painfully slow pace. Your walls clench so tightly around him and he has to white-knuckle the headboard in order to keep himself centered and restrained.

You’re stirring a bit, but you’re still asleep, and Henry feels his climax already starting to build. Normally he’d be ashamed of this fact, but it’s probably best if he doesn’t drag this out.

The little noises escaping your lips only spur Henry on, each of your little grunts, groans, whimpers and moans are like music to his ears. 

With only a few more thrusts, combined with the sight of your ass jiggling each time his skin collides with yours, Henry’s cumming. He pulls out in the knick of time, shooting his seed all over your little pajama shorts, secretly hoping his cum stains them.

He strokes himself through orgasm, riding out his high to its fullest before re-adjusting your shorts and tucking himself back into his boxers, laying down next to you.

A soft sigh leaves his lips as he catches his breath, flipping over and sitting to grab the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, heading out to the small balcony. 

Plumes of gray smoke linger in the still summer night as Henry looks out onto the lake, admiring the soft moonlight reflecting off the bouncing water. He comes back in after a few minutes and climbs back into bed, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe being married to you wasn’t so bad, after all.

[justanotherblonde23]

An Unexpected Surprise - A Marcus Moreno Story

Author’s Note: So with some encouraging from my friends, I decided to post my writing! I know that technically we don’t know anything about Marcus Moreno, but that superhero dad has been taking up space in my mind rent free all week. I tagged people that I know wanted to read this and a few that I thought might enjoy it. Please let me know what you think! -Kat 

Content Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), P in V

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog @dindjarindiaries @frannyzooey @zeldasayer @hdlynnslibrary @jollyrancher87 @bisexual-space-slut @woakiees @scribbledghost @softpedropascal @catfishingmorales

Marcus trudged into the house, it was at least 2 in the morning, and he was absolutely exhausted. He was always exhausted these days; his age was catching up to him. He may be a part of the Heroics, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting older. He was balancing heroism, kids, a spouse, and trying to give them some semblance of a normal life. He was ready to retire, be involved in every aspect of the kids’ lives, and see his wife in more than just the middle of the night and before leaving for work. He had given enough of his life to the service of the world; now, it was about time to provide all of himself to his family. Missy, his eldest, was already 11 and getting older every single day. Jules, the baby of the family, was about to turn 5, just about to leave the toddler years behind her. He felt as if he had missed so much of their lives; he didn’t want to miss anymore. 

Most of the house lights had been turned off, signaling that most of the inhabitants were fast asleep. He hoped that at least he could get a kiss or two from the woman he loved. Maybe she would still be awake. He made his way up the stairs, checking the kids’ rooms. He planted soft kisses on their foreheads, smiling at their serene expressions. What beautiful little girls he had, he was the luckiest father in the world. 

He frowned, opening the door to the master bedroom; the soft glow of artificial light bathed the room in a yellow haze. There she was, his love, sitting in the middle of the bed, clearly wide awake, wearing her glasses and frowning at the hologram in front of her. Someone was working even later than Marcus himself. He took in her form; she still hadn’t noticed him quite yet. She was wearing a silky nightie that hit her upper thigh and a matching robe loosely tied around her. His cock stirred in his pants. Even as spent as he was from the day, the view in front of him made him want to take her to bed and fuck her senseless. 

“Dr. Moreno, hard at work, I see,” he teased. 

Her eyes shot up, smirking at him. I’m not quite Dr. Moreno yet, Marcus. You’d have to marry me first,” she teased. 

“We had a ceremony-” he started.

“And someone still hasn’t mailed the marriage certificate, even though it’s been two months. All you gotta do is bring it to the post office, baby. I’d do it myself, but somebody insisted that he’d be the one to do it.” 

Marcus groaned, falling onto the bed beside his wife (that’s what she was to him, even if he didn’t mail the marriage certificate yet). He heard some shuffling and a command for her AI system to file the holograms working on for the night. He’d lived with her for four years now, and he still hadn’t gotten used to all her tech. If he was a hero in name, she was the genius behind every piece of technology in his arsenal, as well as all of the other members of the Heroics. Her superpower was her mind, that gorgeous, intricate, genius mind of hers. Her ability to retain information, learn, critically think, and create was almost impossible to fathom truly. At 33, she had twelve doctorates in various fields, including engineering, physics, nanotechnology, and art history. Her thirst for knowledge and eagerness to invent was unparalleled, even among other enhanced individuals. He would never stop singing her praises; she was a wonder. 

“Marcus, baby, do you wanna shower and go to bed? It’s late.” 

He sighed, starting to relax into the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair. “Baby, if you keep that up, I’m gonna fall asleep right here and now. I took a shower at HQ before I left, so I’m good.” He opened his eyes when her fingers stilled, looking up at the beautiful woman with the soft smile leaning over him. 

“Do you think you can stay up for a little bit longer, honey? I have a surprise for you.” 

He sat up, scooting up against the headboard, kicking off his shoes. He felt wide awake now. His wife wasn’t typically one for surprises on any old day. He wracked his mind, trying to make sure that he hadn’t missed her birthday, their dating anniversary, or any other consequential, momentous occasion. 

“I didn’t forget a special day, did I? Fuck, amor. I’m so sorry if I did. I’ve been spread so damn thin since the wedding; I’ve been running around like a madman.” 

She placed a tiny cream-colored box in his hands, his wife sitting right in front of him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You didn’t miss anything, Marcus, just open the box. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

He nodded, pulling at the perfect bow holding the box closed, carefully opening the lid. For a minute, he just stared at the contents of the box, his eyes wide with shock. Ever so slowly, he picked up a pair of teeny baby booties, placing them in his large palm. He took the second item out, a pregnancy test that digitally read, PREGNANT. His hands began to shake; tears began to overflow, tracking down his cheeks. He looked up, his gaze locked on the woman in front of him. 

“Sweetheart, are we-? Are you-? We’re- we’re having a baby?” he managed to choke out. 

There was one more item in the box, at the bottom, an ultrasound labeled Baby Moreno. He studied the picture intently, his thumb moving over the little blob on the paper. That was his baby, their baby. They were having a baby. 

“Holy shit,” he murmured, “we’re having a baby!”

A giggle made him raise his eyes once again. “That’s what I said, too. I’m about ten weeks along now. You’re going to be a daddy of three, Marcus Moreno.” 

He scooped up everything in his lap, dumping it on the nightstand. He quickly grabbed his wife, flipping her so that she was under him. He covered her face in kisses, whispering how beautiful she was, how she was so loved, so treasured, so cherished. How their baby was made of nothing but love, how they were precious cargo, and how he would protect both of them every single day of his life. He kissed down her jaw, down her neck, eliciting breathy moans from the woman underneath him. His kisses went lower and lower until he reached her belly, pulling her nightie up around her waist so that he could get to her bare stomach. He planted dozens of kisses all over her belly, in awe of the life growing in there. 

“Hey baby, it’s your daddy,” he cooed softly. “Your mommy and I already love you, little one, and you’ll have two big sisters that I just know will love you too. I can’t wait for you to be here, little baby. I promise I’ll be here for you.” 

He looked adoringly at the mother of his youngest child, grinning as if his world had been made complete, and in all honesty, it had been. This baby, this tiny little one growing inside of the woman that he loved most, filled a hole in his heart that he hadn’t even been aware of. 

He bit down on his lower lip, smirking while ever so slowly pulling off her panties. He would lavish the woman he loved with every ounce of devotion, adoration, and love he had to offer. A breathless Oh please, Marcus was all he needed to motivate him to continue. He opened her legs up, giving him access to her slit, wet and wanting. He groaned, the sight making his mouth water. If he had it his way, Marcus could spend hours between her thighs. Two fingers lightly toyed with her slit, moving up and down, collecting her slick. 

“Look at you, baby, so wet for me, and I’ve barely touched you. If this is what pregnancy does to you, amor, I might have to start keeping better work hours so I can spend my time between your thighs.” 

He could see her hips try to follow his fingers, desperate for more than he was giving her. “Marcus, don’t tease, please,” she whined. He chuckled, easily giving in to her pleas. He couldn’t say no to her, not tonight. 

He buried his head between her legs, tongue coming out to lick a broad strip all the way to the top of her slit, his nose nudging her clit. She tasted like heaven, making him moan into her core, sending pleasurable shivers up her spine. He speared his tongue into her, getting as deep as he could, fucking her pussy with his tongue while her fingers tangled themselves in his curls. He kept exploring her folds with his tongue, hitting all the spots he knew would make her see stars. 

He easily pushed in two fingers, causing her to buck her hips up, matching his pace. He focused his tongue on her clit, alternating between drawing lazy circles and sucking her into his mouth. His fingers hit that sweet spot inside her with every thrust, bringing her closer and closer to her release. Before he knew it, she was cumming around his fingers, squeezing him tight and pulling him deeper. His mouth flooded with the taste that was uniquely hers, prompting him to moan. He could feel himself rock hard in his pants, leaking with his arousal. 

He crawled off the bed, swiftly ridding himself of his clothes, placing his glasses safely on the nightstand. He grabbed her glasses as well, placing them next to his own. She had shrugged off her robe and nightie, languidly watching him, her eyes blown wide with desire. 

“Marcus, I need you inside of me,” she begged. His large cock rested heavy against his stomach, tip red and leaking. The thought of him inside of her was almost too much. She needed him, and she needed him right now. 

He settled over her, catching her lips in a deep, earth-shattering kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, letting her taste herself. Marcus was intoxicating, enthralling, and all she wanted was more. Finally, they broke apart, panting slightly. 

“Dr. Moreno, my lovely wife, mother of my child, let me make love to you. Let me show you how happy you make me, sweetheart. I want to make you touch the sky,” he whispered into her ear. 

She beamed at him, cradling his cheek gently. “Yes, baby, I’m all yours.” He leaned back in, catching her into another searing kiss. He worked his length up and down her slit, coating himself in her slick, bumping her clit a few times in the process. At last, he began to leisurely enter her, inch by inch. They both groaned when he bottomed out, fully seated inside of her. 

“Fuck honey, you’re just so tight, so wet, so warm for me,” he whimpered, moving inside her with slow, deep strokes. He wanted to make this last, to draw out her pleasure. With every thrust, he told her how good she felt, how beautiful she looked underneath him, how her pussy was made for him, how perfect she was. He could’ve gone like that for quite some time, slowly bringing her closer and closer to her high. Only her pleas of more, faster, harder made him speed up. 

He grabbed one of her legs, placing it higher on his hip, allowing him to hit deeper inside her. Her hips moved in unison with his own, meeting each thrust into her. He would never get tired of the pretty sounds she made for him when he was fucking her. Those breathy moans she let out, the babbling it all spurred him on. He could tell she was close. She always got so fucking wet and even tighter right before she came. He dropped a hand between them, rubbing hard, tight circles around her clit. Not even a half dozen thrusts later, and she was wailing in ecstasy, clamping down on him like a vice. He wasn’t far behind, spilling himself deep within her, muttering her name over and over like a prayer. 

He rolled off of her, panting, taking a minute to catch his breath as he gazed at her blissed-out form. Hair a mess, chest heaving, lips swollen from his kisses to Marcus, she was stunning. He couldn’t think of a moment when she was more gorgeous than right then and there. He could look at her forever, just like this. 

Eventually, he got up and grabbed a warm cloth, gently cleaning her off. Turning off the light, he climbed back into bed, pulling her body to his, cradling her close. He let his hand wander, rubbing soothing circles over her belly. 

“You’re gonna look so stunning, honey, all round with our baby. I promise I’ll take such good care of you. I’ll do whatever you need.” 

He could feel his wife sigh, completely relaxed in his arms. He held her close, basking in her warmth and the love between them. He let his mind wander, thinking of the future, thinking of this baby. 

“I’m gonna cut back at work, move more into an advisory role in the Heroics. As your pregnancy progresses, I’ll be able to work from home and take a solid chunk of paternity leave when the baby comes. I’ve given enough of myself to the world. It’s time for me to give everything I can to my family, to you, to the girls, to this baby. I’ll go drop off the marriage certificate tomorrow before I go into HQ to talk about restructuring my job. That way, you’ll officially be Dr. Moreno, even though you’ve already been that to me for a long time.” 

She answered him with a happy sigh and kisses to his hand that entwined with hers. “I’d like that, Marcus. It might be selfish, but I want you here, with us. We love you so much; it’s nice when you’re here. It makes our family complete.” 

They spent a few more minutes talking about the future, drifting off into deep, dreamless sleep. The thought of tomorrow was full of bright promises, just waiting to be embraced. 

[pani-slunce]

To my sister

Hey sis it’s me uh

Oh I’m Eszti but you also knew me as your big sister so

Sorry, I called you the wrong name, see abusive seems more fitting

See you may not have been like my grandparents who beat for the “religious crimes” I was committing

But doing what you did hurt me worse then any type of physical hitting

You know what was up, you know when we were young I loved you more then a sister

Had me in the bathroom saying “stop kissing and try to resist her”!

You felt it too, you may not admit it to your husband

Afraid of admitting what we had will get you into some trouble

I still remember when we were kids you abandoned me like I was nothing

Our grandparents caught us in bed together while we were lovin

We both got a beating so bad my leg was too broke for running.

So we made a pact of trust that we will help each other through the abuse no matter what

Until you chickened out and threw me under the bus, called me a pervert, faggot, molester, a child of Satan and everything under the sun, saying you tried to keep it hidden but now that your done

Until the next day you left in a hurry leaving broken me as the only one

My grandparents believed all your lies and as a result my torment had begun

For the first few months they locked me in the closet, thinking that being isolated will cure me being gay but did the opposite

What made it worse was the only contact I had was my domestic kidnappers who gave me some food and read me bible versus

From everyday since then I wanted to be carried away in a hearse, and you leaving only made it worse

I sat wondering if I’d ever see the light that keeps being preached to me, but not being able to tell if it was night or day made me even more gloomy

Trying to find anything in the closet thats sharp and can go right through me

After a few months of isolation my grandparents let me out, there only reason was so cops wouldn’t be called to the house

I had to enroll back in school which is exactly what I did, not knowing what to do and suffering from trauma as a kid

I was always the shy one and you knew that, without you I can’t even talk to others for 5 minutes without getting a heart attack and falling flat

Dealing with so much at school then coming home to be beaten. I was too scared to call the cops for so many reasons

A few days of school and I painted my school uniform black, it was symbolic for what I see when my parents used to break objects on my back

Because I blacked out from the pain, not that you would know, you lived a happy life day by day

Getting no sleep and being beat until sunrise, why didn’t I just die, because the lord wanted to see my demise for my crimes

I admit it, yes I fell in love with my own sister, we tried our best to keep it hidden but that doesn’t mean we need to be killed for being different

No childhood, at the park I tried to make my mark, but it was ruined when my grandma would tell the children that I will cut and gut them and hang them up like art

That’s why in all of grandmas photos the children stand far apart, all the kids together smiling and the kid in the back standing in the dark

The bullying from kids got worse as the years in school progressed, mix it with abuse and social anxiety and you get a new level of stress

Wearing black while looking like a freak made me feel like I was stronger inside, because I knew my family and the lord weren’t at my side

And I never knew why, some people are just born on this earth to be used and die

On the bright side I knew when I arrived in hell that Satan couldn’t hurt me if he tried

Suicide attempt after suicide attempt made my mind twist a bit, because even at ending my own life I was dog shit

I just wanted to quit, I didn’t care living or dead I just exist and the final straw broke when I found out that half the kids that hurt me was because my grandmother paid them for it

After a over a decade of abuse from almost everyone I knew, I ran away hopeful that I could live with you

Ya know in all of those years I prayed that you would be my rescue, that you would come through

I even tried to scare my bullies off using you, I’d say “when my sister comes, their won’t be anyone she can’t breakthrough” saying it out my bloody mouth as my eye was bloodshot red from being beaten black and blue

But you never showed, did you?

It took weeks of searching and help form police to find you

I knocked on your door hoping to be reunited in open arms, but when you answered you sounded a alarm

Called your boyfriend and told him that I was trespassing and harrasing you, did your head blow a gasket

He made me leave and all I could do is cry and weep

After all those years of your lies you still blame me

You didn’t say hi or that you were sorry, I couldn’t go back to my grandparents so i joined the army

When I passed all my medical test I thought that maybe for once I’ll have a ok year

I even got my job field of being a engineer, but what I didn’t hear is that they pick the specific job, I thought I’d spend my time in the army grinding gears

But no I spent my years trying to diffuse bombs as bullets appeared, with the slightest mistake and I wouldn’t be here

So many counties seeing the worst in every human being, as you were at home worrying about premature creation of offspring

After a few years I got charged for doing the right thing, I was charged for murder when I killed terrorist?!?

Something that is celebrated by a lot of other veterans, because I was “cruel” to the very people that kill innocents is breaking the rules

I was dishonorably discharged, no pay, no benefits

Let’s not forget the negative papers to tell any future employers that I’m mentally deficient

After all this time a few days ago you decided to show up at my house with your spouse

We tried to catch up after all this time but you acted like your memory was hazzy, and you did apologize even though it was rehearsed and lazy

But what your husband said made me go crazy

Saying that he hated that I was in the army because he has “morals”

And that even though I’ve been in combat I should be able to act normal

I may have done a lot in the military, but it opened my eyes to a world I wasn't supposed to see

Made me happy that I didn't know you

But seeing you at that table made it suck cuz you didn’t give a fuck

Still after all of these years, you still hide behind your mistakes

I tried to be passive

But your husbands mouth was massive

I don’t care you love him more than me, he had to get his ass kicked

I just thought I get this off my chest, I have to type it on tumblr because I know when it comes to ignoring my calls you try your best

You will always keep lying sis

About you being a faggot, bitch

You couldn’t even look me in the eyes to talk sis

And after all of this I could still forgive you if you talk sincerely sis

But now if I ever got the chance to ask you sis

And call you

I hope you answer

I really hope you answer

When I call

I hope you pick up your phone

I want to talk to you

Please answer

[prevaricatcr]

‹ TARON EGERTON, HE/HIM, CISMALE, BISEXUAL.  ›  ELLIOT GALLAGHER is the TWENTY SIX year old from SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said,  ❝ MIGHT AS FUCKIN’ WELL, RIGHT? GONNA HATE MY LIFE EITHER WAY, MIGHT AS WELL DO IT WITH SOME SCENERY. ❞ they claim FUNNY GAMES is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would TAUNT THE KILLER AND GET WHACKED FOR IT. their fears include DRIVING A CAR, WRITHING SNAKES and PUPPETS, and they don’t know we know, but… HE’S PAID OFF MULTIPLE WOMEN WHO HAVE HAD HIS CHILDREN. hope they enjoy their stay.  ‹  MUSE A from HOLLYWOOD’S BLEEDING penned by, Z, 25+, CST.  ›

- - - - - - - BASICS.

Name: Elliot Rian Gallagher. Pronouns: He, him. Nicknames: n/a Age: Twenty-six. Birthdate: April 18th. Zodiac: Aries sun, taurus moon, gemini rising. Ethnicity: white, his father's grandparents were second generation irish and his mother always stated that her parents came from Sandusky, and didn't know more than that. Nationality: American. Birthplace: Santa Monica, CA Gender: Cis Male. Sexual Orientation: Bisexual.

- - - - - - - BACKGROUND.

Parents: Craig Robert Gallagher; 58 years old, alive. Teresa Dawn Shwitzer-Gallagher ; 52 years old, alive Siblings: 2 older siblings, a boy and a girl, and two younger sisters. Spouse: n/a. Children: 3 by different mothers, whom he sends monthly allowances to. He makes it his business not to know any more. Current Job: out of work musician. Dream Career: to be back on top of his game, winning grammies like he used to. Schooling: Attended Crossroads in Santa Monica on and off, eventually graduated with lots of monetary assistance. Income: Receives pay from royalties from the band he was in as a teenager that kicked him out.

- - - - - - - PHYSICAL.

Height: 5'8". Weight: 160 lb. Eye Color: Blue. Hair Color: Dark brown. Hair Length: Fairly short. Hair Type: On the thinner side, with some wave. Body Type: Fairly skinny, with small hips and waist. A little thicker around the midsection with his short stint of sobriety. Clothing Size: Medium to large. Shoe Size: Size 11 Complexion: Very pale, freckles fairly easy, burns very easy. Scars: scars and calluses on his hands, a puckered scar on his temple half hidden by his hair, and a scar on his right hip from a bad car accident, his knees are assessed as much older than himself because of how poorly he treats them combined with genetics, and a long scar on the left side of his back.

- - - - - - - PERSONALITY.

Positive Traits: adventurous, charming, direct, passionate, sociable, competitive, creative, lively, versatile. Negative Traits: volatile, extravagant, defensive, envious, juvenile, wasteful, unreliable, vulgar, pessimistic. Mental Condition: Currently drinking again and using cocaine along with a few prescription pills after attempting out-patient rehab and tapering down his drinking, which he's been addicted to since age fourteen. No officially assessed disorders or conditions besides his alcoholism. Struggles with intimacy while sober. Emotional Condition: Fragile, filled with guilt and self loathing after relapse. Sees trust as more important than love and is very guarded with what he considers his innermost self. Likes: All black outfits, sunglasses, a tall glass of boulevard when he's drinking to taste it, people that make him laugh out loud, old school SNL, the fine tuning of behind the camera work, treating the people he cares about to nice things, arguing about oscars prospects for any given film, penny slot machines, jokes that make people groan loudly. Dislikes: lazy jokes about addiction, late night talk shows, people who look at him and see his misdeeds and not who he is as a person, "lizard people" conspiracy theories, elevator music, plastic covers on mattresses, the concept of an all seeing, all knowing god, TMZ, the smell of industrial cleaner. Strengths: intelligent, ambitious, sincere, passionate, generous, philosophical. Weaknesses: reckless, impatient, cowardly, detached, foolhardy, irresponsible. Fears/phobias: sobriety, letting someone see every single part of him, allowing himself to be vulnerable when sober, having hallucinations, driving a car. Hobbies: little to none as his primary hobby has always been drinking, mostly reading and watching movies. Quirks: fiddling with his glasses, biting the inside of his cheek, humming any song that comes through his mind out loud when he's distracted or concentrating hard on something.

- - - - - - - HISTORY.

!!! possible triggers in the following biography: drug use, alcohol abuse and alcoholism, driving while intoxicated, car accidents, parental neglect of children !!! You are two and a half when you land your first commercial. Your younger sisters managed their first roles before you, but it was a little easier for them as they were infant twins; far more in demand than just a tiny toddler boy. This is how your family eats and keeps themselves in an apartment in Santa Monica that's meant to house three when your family eventually grows to hold seven in total. A lot of mouths to feed. Thankfully you don't remember a lot of this, as the small time work you and your siblings do is enough to keep your family afloat. You make your way into middle school; pissed and stand offish and looking like a cherub; which insures that no one takes you seriously. The friends you make, you hold tightly to, and you kick around in your best friend Boston’s basement, just fooling around on his parents drum kit, their guitars that aren’t actually supposed to be touched. It’s all just for fun, the band and the EP you slap together; just trying to impress each other, until one of Bos’ parents finds someone who wants to sign the band. Everyone tells you over and over again, that this is the deal of a life time. That this will make sure you work in Hollywood for the rest of your life. This is both true, and untrue. The EP is an unmitigated success, and every review has something to say about you, the kid on bass with backup vocals who’s face looks barely legal but plays like he’s planning a murder. Almost everyone remarks on how much older than your few years you seem. Which at first makes you feel special, important. Makes you seek out big words to use when you're sitting on the couch as a guest. The audience really loves that. Of course, this also spawns those times when you end up at wrap parties and after parties, your mother schmoozing whatever producers and execs she can find, your father nowhere to be found, and a sea of adults getting high and wasted around you. None of the vices of Hollywood have ever been all that strange to you, though. Your parents have always had a very blase approach to the innocence of childhood, and didn't much care to shield you from anything. It’s still all fun and games, really. The five of you have too much fun, and everyone wants to treat you to everything, so. Somehow the option you end up choosing most often is the bottle in your hand. The bottles that are so readily available, everywhere, that get pressed into your hands and put into the end of the night goodie bags your mother always takes three of. You think that waking up in an unfamiliar bed every single night of a week is something the rest of your bandmates are doing. It’s all a laugh, we all drink and we all smoke and it’s kid shit, right Boston? You learn that it very much is just a ‘you’ thing when you come to rehearsal (late, as usual) one Thursday afternoon and they’re all somberly waiting for you, hands in their lap and silent. You are being released from your contract with Cthulhu Rising...but the band has elected to move on and create their debut album. Unfortunately at this point you are eighteen and very, very deeply entrenched in alcoholism. The press has been playing you as a party boy who enjoys simple teenage excess for a very long time, but it's starting to wear thin. TMZ is growing a lot less glowing in their articles. You try not to pay attention even as you get yourself thrown out of clubs and tossed into drunk tanks and bailed back out again by whichever assistant your mother has hired this week. As long as you can find a way to make music, you can keep breathing. But with your growing notoriety, offers start to dry up. Those late night shows that loved your precociousness take pot shots at you in their opening monologues. Kimmel's pre-taped Lonely Island style sketch about 'you' endorsing a brand of gin in the style of I Love Lucy gets over a million views on youtube. All of Hollywood, and by extension all the world is laughing at you. It get a little less funny when you ram your matte black Lamborghini Aventador into the median taking the exit for Interstate 10, pinball off of it and into the car in the lane next to you, back into the median hard enough to flip your car into a roll, tumbling side over side across the lanes into the ditch. Your blood test results at the hospital show your blood alcohol content was nearly triple the legal limit. The accident doesn't kill you, though it's a close thing. You're convinced the recovery is worse. The total at the end adds up to a fractured pelvis, six broken ribs, safety glass embedded in your left temple, lacerations all over your arms and face, bleeding in your lungs and swelling in the brain that leaves you in a coma for the better part of two weeks. The most pathetic part of it all? All of that, the things you don't remember from that day coupled with the bursts and flashes of what you do remember, the year and a half you spend in recovery still isn't enough to make you put the bottle down forever. And doesn't that just make you fucking hate yourself?

[ravynfyre]

maudlin

i worry a lot about letting my friends down. 

i look back, and i suppose i can admit that i’ve been through a lot in my life. most of it added up to help... idunno if they created or if all the shit just exacerbated ... but one of the two... my mental health issues. mental health issues that i have had my whole life, only, i wasn’t really able to admit that until maybe a decade ago. but i was dealing with those mental health issues while i was working full time as a firefighter, and while i was married.

well, actually, i *wasn’t* dealing with those mental health issues, actually. and, between the stress of the... toxically masculine firefighting environment i was in, and the stress of the actual work i was doing, and then the injury that cost me my career... all of that combined with the rest of my previous mental health bullshit and i spiraled pretty hard. and my ex-husband just couldn’t handle the spiral. he was living with me, as spouses generally do, and got to see first hand the spiral and the meltdown and just... i’m just going to say that it really fucking hurts when you suddenly notice that your partner doesn’t really fucking care for you any longer.

but that’s the story of my life, yeah? i’m always best in small doses, from far away. people like me until they have to spend extended periods of time with me. like, i’m okay for a weekend convention, or a week long camp, but then things start breaking down when the facade starts to crack and i can’t keep the act going any longer. the real me starts leaking out like toxic sludge and the depression starts reeling me in and i start running out of steam and motivation to keep it all together and the showers start tapering off and the willpower breaks down and the funny drifts away and everyone is left with just plain old lazy me.

but it works out, though, because, since i disabled out, i don’t have the budget to go running all over the country visiting and conventioning and dog seminaring like i used to once upon a time. stuck at home a lot more now, and that suits me fine these days. suits the depression fine, too. we don’t like to wander as far or as often. it’s safer here. 

but once the marriage fell apart, and the friendships started falling apart, and after the house burned down and the insurance company decided to fuck me sideways with a rusty chainsaw, one of my close friends helped find me a small place pretty local to her. she’s older and had just retired from her government job, and was excited to have another of her horse riding and k9 training friends close to her. and, honestly, i was, too. i’d hoped that being close would help me break from the... the spiral. the hole. the darkness. and it does. sometimes.

but now that i am close to her, she sees more, sees better, how... much it all affects me? it think? and she doesn’t have any mental health issues. she’s never had a lazy day in her life. she has her organized lists of what needs done when, and by gods, it gets done. and she... just doesn’t *understand* things like executive dysfunction, or being so depressed that you literally cannot hardly drag yourself out of bed of a day. that the only reason you are upright at *all* is to potty break and feed your dogs, because your own physical needs just don’t even clock to you. these things, she can’t even comprehend them, and i just *see* the disappointment in her sometimes when I have to bow out of plans, or when she pops over to drop something off and the front lawn isn’t manicured (which is a whole other rant, believe me). and it feels like i have overstayed my welcome in her life sometimes, even though she and her husband and her son still call me family and insist that i come for holidays. 

i just worry that i am utterly letting them down. and that just feeds all the spiral even worse. 

i’m so tired.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

  OUR FUTURE WILL BE A BRIGHT ONE: CHAPTER SEVEN

                     eremika soulmates through time modern au

( chapter one/chapter two/ chapter three/chapter four/ chapter five/chapter six/ ff.net/ ao3)

YI RI SAN QUI

CHINESE IDIOM; "ONE DAY, THREE AUTUMNS" – INTENSELY MISSING OR LONGING FOR SOMEONE SO THAT ONE SINGLE DAY APART FEELS LIKE THREE YEAR

 "and it ain't a mystery you fell for me

we're just two lost souls trying to find our peace

love like ours ain't a masterpiece

it's a good day in the sun            

i was born to love you

out where the water is wide

make me your country bride

you'll be my prince of tides

you were born to heal me

under a velvet sky

cattails dancing in the light

we were born to live a long and happy life

a happy life

- Delta Rae A Long and Happy Life

  People notice things, they are well aware of that; it is surely spotted how baron often seems to be dozing off when his wife shamelessly winks at other men above her feathery fan, but his dear friend is always the apple of his eye. How baroness herself is terribly fond of said friend's wife and can be rarely seen without her by her side, both of them dazzlingly dashing with their blonde hair and tightly-laced corsets.

How much time the four of them spend together; the sheer close proximity of two couples would be enough to raise rumors, but, in addition to that, they slowly but surely get too lazy to cover their tracks, get tired of masks and lies and deception. Eventually, it's almost like they are not even trying anymore.  They always split for vacation, when two women enjoy the thermal waters of Vichy or well-stocked libraries of their respective estates and two men laze around and almost carelessly spend golden mountains of money on wine and blackjack in Monaco 

 (but never women, they would never buy a single woman and the baroness and her lovely lady in waiting never take men. They would all preen or giggle or send a smile or two, charming and daring, but none of them is ever actually caught red-handed. In a way, you could say that they are shockingly faithful to their respective partners – not to mistake with 'spouses'.

That is  worth noting too.)

They mix clothes and rely on servants and hotel service not to spill spicy details about any compromising and surprising positions and configurations in which they may be or not be caught; they leave dozens of apartments covered in feathers from ripped pillows, with ruined bed rests, silk ribbons thrown haphazardly all around the floor and love bites on display on the skins of their necks

They chase after one another through long corridors of castles and mansions, skirts hitched up and cravats untied, hands reaching for wrong hands, lips locked with forbidden lips. Laughing out loud like children, the baron and his friend stroll around, tousled hair and all, glued at the hip, their wives following them, clad in smirks and delicate lace and shamelessness as two cheetahs in bejeweled collars.  Frowned-upon desire put proudly on display like an ornate Faberge egg.

Stormy sky blue and soft baby blue irises caught in a shared gaze, sparkling emeralds always meeting opalescent greys.

Done with running and hiding, having only enough decency to use marriage titles, their affairs hidden by the sheer layer of translucent ice. A blind man could see through it easily.

So yes, people notice things and maybe even know things; but for some time, they all somehow get lucky and make it; buy their freedom to love and live with pearls and diamonds and defiance, and enjoy every second they are given.

Live like royalty, like gods among mortals, blinding in their disgusting extravaganza. Their years spent together are endless summers filled with baked swans and tender lobster tails served on silver trays, with sky-high elaborate wigs, with parties and dances and sexual plays, tiny poodles on silk leashes, horses with hooves painted in gold.

It's not gossips that put an end to this wonderland; it's a deadly female.

Madame Guillotine cuts through shining threads of their lives in four clean strikes, but it is all easy to bear as even she cannot sever the bonds that tie them all together. 

***

 There's an album full of Eren's baby pictures on Mikasa's lap and a cup of tea in her hand; cinnamon- smelling crumbs scattered on the table in front of her.

Carla is busying herself in the kitchen with dinner, her son helping her out, or attempting to do so; she can hear them bantering and playfully snapping at each other the way only a loving, if slightly overbearing parent and an equally loving, but a little bit irked child can, but they are not loud enough to interrupt her train of thought.

And that is- well.

She's mostly trying to clear her head a bit because there's a lot to take in.

In ten minutes since she has entered the Jeager's house, she's been immediately seated in the living room, given a hot drink and a heavy load of Eren-related information. He can knit, apparently, was a star soccer player from primary up until police academy, did wrestling for a while, knows how to make a mean omelette, tried living in a forest for three weeks once , owns a pug (she wonders why he didn't feel the need to tell her this particular thing. Maybe he assumed she's a cat person and decided to keep quiet, which is – just idiotic, to be honest. She's not a heartless monster, for fuck's sake; pugs are adorable. Everyone loves pugs).  He's hard-working, ambitious, driven and determined and loyal to a fault. Never surrenders and never gives up; always finishes what he has started. An idiot sometimes, mouth quicker than brain and a troublemaker, but with a heart made out of sheer gold.

Carla, Mikasa thinks, would be an excellent PR specialist, if she ever becomes tired of working as a nurse. She has an urge to interrupt her monologue to assure her that, no, she doesn't really need to advertise her son so fiercely. She's already convinced, sold, bought, whatever.

But Eren's getting more flustered and flustered with every word getting out of his mom's mouth and duh, Mikasa enjoys his struggle way too much to put it to an end so soon.

Absent-mindedly, she turns pages of the album; Eren grows up in front of her eyes , from a wrinkled newborn to an awfully cute toddler, a toothy-grinned first grader, a frowning middle schooler and an awkward teenager, his lanky limbs not knowing how to operate simultaneously.

And then there are photos from his high school graduation, Eren laughing, head thrown back, surrounded by a huge group of friends, all wrapped around each other, young and shining in their capes. Hulking blond guy and a tall dark-haired one; athletic freckled girl with her arms around tiny beauty with sparkling blue eyes, a shorty with military cut spinning around laughing girl with thick ponytail,  skinny fair-haired guy, glasses on his nose and the sweetest smile. She makes a mental note to ask him about their names.

And – of course- the last picture is Eren getting his badge, his eyes shining with something that looks suspiciously similar to tears.

Her own heart swells a little with pride and she can hardly fight a small smile that finds its way to her lips. Out of all the people in the world, he is the one she will get to share her life with and she couldn't be happier with the fate's choice.

"Mikasa?" Eren emerges from the kitchen, a blue bowl filled with something smelling of sage and rosemary in his hands and an orange apron hanging loosely around his hips. "You're alright?"

She smiles at him, putting the album on the table and standing up.

"Yeah, everything's fine. You need help?"

He shakes his head and opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Carla's voice rings from the kitchen:

"Actually, sweetheart, can you set the table, please? My son still hasn't mastered this art, despite many years of practice." 

„Mom, please, stop."  Eren sends her a very apologetic look and storms back into kitchen and Mikasa can do nothing but try to stop the giggle from escaping from her lips. She loves it all so much.

It's not just Eren she's getting. It's this house and Carla, and the pug, and the people from the photographs in Eren's album. It's a whole new world, shiny and bright and ready for her to take and be welcomed in.

And with that thought warming her head-to-toe, she follows Eren to ask Carla where are cutlery and glasses, listening to the mother-son banter quietly, with the cheek-achingly-wide smile painted on her face.

  She almost moans in delight, taking yet another piece of chocolate cake into her mouth, savoring the taste on her tongue.  She tries to hide that and her cover is good, he'll give her that – but he's no fool; even a complete monster would turn into a saint for just a bite of this heavenly thing that Carla somehow enchants in their old oven.

And he's seen it so many times, this expression of wonder on so many faces, but it still suits hers just best. His mom is beaming from the other side of the table, asking Mikasa questions about her culinary preferences so that she would know what to cook for their next visit. Their old golden retriever quietly patters into the dining room and puts her heavy, warm head on Eren's knees, wordlessly asking for scraps.  And so, as he scratches Leia behind her fluffy ears and watches his mom and his soulmate discussing apple pies and lemon meringues…

There's a strange feeling that overcomes his body somehow, sweet and wonderful and very, very old – as if the three of them have already been there and done that before; the shared chores and shared dinner, the laughter, the talk, their voices entwined into one, perfect melody. Mom and Mikasa smiling at each other, him between them, like a bridge.

No missing pieces in this puzzle; there's a rightness in this scene that has never been there before.

***

Carla's smiling at them, as she ushers them out of the doors, mischief in her eyes when she says:

„Go, go, take your time together." and the sheer implication rings in her voice so clear that he feels his face turning beetroot red. He quietly wonders how many times he has already blushed tonight and even quieter laments at this count, but Mikasa just laughs.

That's all she's been doing the whole evening, actually. Laughing and beaming, her face transforming with happiness; the apples of her cheeks and the tip of her nose dusted with pink. For a few hours gone was the stoic, poised girl, still a bit unsure how to handle the situation; for a few hours she was dancing around his house from kitchen to dining room, dishes in her arms and smears of chocolate on her chin.

And he's curious about that, but he doesn't really know what question he could possibly ask her to understand.

He grabs her hand instead and they move forward. The pavement is covered by the thin layer of ice and the heels of her shoes glide against it, making a high-pitched sound.

„Your mom is lovely," she says quietly, grabbing onto his arm for better balance. „And your house too. Thank you-" she raises her head to lock eyes with him, the shadow of a smile still remaining on her mouth, " – for taking me to meet her."

He lowers his own head so that he can press a kiss to her forehead; he can't believe she is the one to thank him.

„Honestly, the pleasure's all mine. But I have to admit, I didn't expect you to click together so … well."

Mikasa chuckles, nodding to herself; a hint of her amusement makes its way into his system, light as champagne bubbles.

„You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be just like her."

He almost trips on his own feet; stumbles and stops for a second as Mikasa steadies his form.

„Wha- what do you mean?"

She shrugs and tries to seem nonchalant, and he might have believed her if not for the way she buries her face in the folds of his scarf and grips his arm a little more forcefully.

"Well. My mom is an academic professor, she was always busy when I was a kid. But on weekends, whenever she had time, we would drive out of the city and she would just spend whole days in the garden. Had the most beautiful sunflowers in all the county. Still does, actually."

The snow is not falling anymore and the street lights shine clear; Mikasa's eyes reflect it even brighter as she stares into the distance, deep down on the memory lane.

"We have this house in the country, kind of a little farm, I guess. I loved it so much then. There was only us and a dozen of chickens and dad would sometimes take me to the river at dawn to try fishing. We would just sit for hours on the pier, not even speaking, just- taking in the view. And my mom would always wait for us with an apple pie ready. She taught me gardening, embroidery, and cooking. All I ever wanted when I was a kid was to be like my mom; to have a little house by the forest, a husband to kiss me when he comes from work and a bunch of kids to run around. To live a long and happy life."

She's looking down at her feet now, stopping speaking abruptly as if she just realized the words that came from her mouth. But he says nothing, just squeezes her hand gently and so she lets out a deep sigh, a little bit embarrassed when she states:

"Your mom is so warm, so big-hearted. This is the kind of woman I've always wanted to be."

Eren studies her form, the grace in her posture even when she is hunched, strands of black hair framing her beautiful face. Mikasa is not a woman she had just described; she is not the sunflower shining for everyone, she is not the summer sun warming all people equally. She will never be loved by everyone or love everyone . But those that she loves, those that she trusts-

He thinks about how she acts around him when there's only two of them and their heartbeats. He thinks how easily she shed her dignified demeanor while she was washing dishes, giggling with his mom.

And he envisions her childhood dream; a log cabin at the edge of the wood, a river humming nearby, picnic table covered in red-and-white checked tablecloth. Mikasa hanging sheets in the backyard, her long braid falling down her back and black-haired, green-eyed children playing hide and seek around her legs.

Coming home to see just that.

Fondness swells in his heart. This is a fantasy that doesn't belong to the world they live in and the one that, at first glance, doesn't particularly suit a woman as independent and put together as Mikasa… but a beautiful, beautiful dream regardless. The picture that he knows he will never manage to abandon.

"Long and happy life, you say?" he hums in appreciation, sending her a dazzling smile and, through their bond, a kiss to her soul, sweet and tender. "I think we can manage that."

***

 The evening slowly turns into the night and as they prepare for bed and lay down under the covers, Mikasa can feel the storm coming.

He's about to say something and she will not like it; she knows this before he even opens up his mouth to speak.

He fiddles with his shirt and tugs gently on her hair, licks his lips, scratches the back of his neck. It's like a low-current running through her body, electricity buzzing in her ears constantly and still, nothing can prepare her for the moment when the shoe drops.

"So, uh, my shift starts tomorrow at 8.00, but I think I can finish off a little earlier, like… 16? And we can grab something to eat then, how about that?"

There's ringing in her ears and her breath catches and she wants to slap herself because, jesus Mikasa, overreacting as hell right now.  He's got work, he has to go to work, nobody, and especially not her uncle will excuse his absence.  But as she turns her face away from him, although she does her very best to get a hold on herself, there's a tremble in her voice.

"Oh. Okay."

I'm about to cry, she realizes, horrified. What's wrong with me?

His arms wrap around her middle and, as he hides her face in her shoulder, she cannot stop the small hiccup of a sob that escapes her lips.

"Mika, hey, Mika. I know- I know, alright?" His hands lock around her." I know, I understand."

Panic is a cold wave that crashes over her, chill runs through his veins, through their bones.

‘'Maybe I'll call and-"

"No, no." She shakes her head, slipping from his arms; distancing herself from him leaves her aching all over but she does it anyway. It's unhealthy, even for soulmates to be so wrapped up in each other, but they got careless, they got too needy. "You should go, we-we can't act like nothing even matters anymore."

His brow furrows and he gulps and she knows which words he swallowed.

(only you matter now, only this.)

She wants to reach out, god knows she does. Wants to take his hands in hers and kiss him; nuzzle her face against his neck, curl inside his ribcage, lock herself in his heart. Let him hold her until she melts into him and they'll never be apart.

But it's not good for them and it's not possible anyway, so she takes a deep breath and says:

"Chinese tomorrow for dinner, what do you think about this idea?"

***

 The morning comes too soon.

She didn't manage to doze off even for a few hours; laid with her eyes closed and breath even, emotions ripping her insides to shreds. She didn't let him hug her and thought that will make her body numb, that if she gets used to not touching him when he is beside her, seeing him leave will be easier.

It's not; it hurts, physically hurts and she digs her fingernails into the flesh of her palms not to reach out to him, roots her feet on the floor not to run after him. He kisses her so gently that it's more like a shadow of a kiss than a real thing; maps her cheekbones with the tips of his fingers and walks backward through the door to look at her as long as he can.

She swallows to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth and manages a grimace resembling somewhat a smile:

"I'll be here when you come back."

He nods but he doesn't seem to believe her at all.

"Mikasa-"

"Go." –she waves her hand goodbye, praying not to tear up, praying for him to leave before she tears up. "Go, don't be late. Levi-"

"Hates that, I know." He's still standing in the corridor, still looking at her and he's so anxious that it spills over. So she breaks herself a little inside and coaxes her body to cooperate; slows down her heartbeat, lets her hands hang loosely by her side, raises her head higher.

And so he relaxes too; even manages to send her his trademark boyish grin before stealing one more kiss – this one a little more proper, not just a paintbrush stroke- and turns away rapidly, running down the stairs fast as if he was afraid that as soon as he slows down he'll come back running to her.

Oh, she wishes he did. So bad.

 Hours pass so lazily, she's almost afraid that clocks have all stopped working. And she's absolutely restless.

Goes out for a run, hoping to tire herself, but finds herself looking for his face in the crowd of unfamiliar ones. Tries to answer messages that accumulated on her phone and social media during the weekend and realizes that she has no idea what to tell all those people. Writes a short message to her coach to assure her that yes, she'll be back in training on Wednesday. Curls on the armchair for a minute or two only to jump up at the slightest of sounds, as easily spooked as Madeline. Picks up a book just to stare at the same page for half an hour.

By 2 P.M. she's equally anxious, frustrated with herself and dead tired.

So she picks up the phone and does the only thing she can think of.

"Annie? Hi, sorry for radio silence. I had a reason though."

Annie's usual blank voice is somehow less disinterested than normal.

"Better a good one, Ackerman."

Mikasa almost smiles. You have no idea, girl.

***

Eren is pretty much sure that is the worst day of his entire life, but he doesn't really register anything that's happening around him so it might not be true.

His longing takes a form; it's a ball of pain in his chest, covered in thorns and making his lungs and heart bleed whenever he takes a breath . Usually he'd be sulking for being assigned to paperwork for the whole day, but today he thanks, all of the gods he knows for it; there's a white mist obscuring his vision so that even the easiest forms transform into a herculean tasks of bureaucracy, so he's scared to even think how his work in the field would present. It takes so much effort for him not to say fuck it all and run back to Mikasa like a stray dog begging for a little warmth that by lunch he is downright exhausted.

Four-fifths of his new team send him worried glances above their respective meals and the one fifth, his boss, the living legend, the man he admires more than probably anyone else in his life looks so disgusted with his current state that Eren is truly surprised he manages not to spontaneously combust under his burning glare.

All he thinks, all he feels, all he pretty much is is –

Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa.

His mind plays tricks on him, plasters her face on any girl that enters the office, forces his eyes to look for her even though the mind knows her location all too well. His knee is constantly twitching, bumping the cheap wood imitation of his desk and making his keyboard jump up and down. He has dark circles underneath his eyes that he's sure weren't there before. She's haunting him and he is, to put it bluntly, a mess.

And yet, he cannot manage to care, not when yet another torturous hour passes and he gets closer and closer to breaking free.

After he glances at the clock for the fifth time in two minutes  and it's still 15:24, Petra – who seemed to gravitate more and more towards his desk as the day progressed- taps his shoulder and asks him, very slowly and kindly, is there any way she could help him, really?

He tears his gaze away from the digital numbers of the clock to look at her; amber eyes are wide open, concern written all over her face.

All that's ringing in his head is that he wishes he could look at another woman.

"I-I don't think so." He mumbles, looking down at his still twitching knee. "Or maybe- Petra, I'm sorry, could I drop out early today? Please?"

The desperation in his voice is so clear that even he grimaces a little. Petra bites her lip and opens her mouth and he just knows she's about to say that she's sorry but-

"Let him go."

Levi is standing back to them, seemingly deeply engrossed into the act of scribbling some notes on the whiteboard, but he is speaking so loudly and clearly that everyone in the office just drops their work for a second, exchanging surprised glances.

Levi is not exactly known for cutting his officers slack.

"Let him go, Rall, he's useless anyway."

Petra gapes at the back of Levi's head, mouth opened as a fish gasping for breath before shaking her head and patting Eren on the back gently.

"Go." She whispers softly and Eren can almost see the ghost of the smile on her lips. "Go, you idiot, before he changes his mind."

He doesn't need to be told twice; he's so happy he could kiss her, but there is another mouth belonging to another girl and waiting for him at  home.

***

  The only thing he does is ring the bell and suddenly she's all over him.

Arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist; she opens the door so violently  that the sound echoes in the empty staircase and jumps into his waiting arms. And he's been running all the way there, driven by the fear that he somehow forgot the way (how could he forget the way, now that he knows it?) and so he's a little than more winded but, honestly, who cares about breathing anymore. 

She kisses him with wild abandon nobody would suspect her of, almost livid in her raw desire. She's a mess of emotions, a tangled pile of electric cords in his hands; she sends nerves live-wiring beneath his skin.

They bump into furniture on the way to the bedroom and some small part of his brain registers it, sighs to itself about bruises that will inevitably bloom on his skin tomorrow. But he's got a handful of her and as he lowers his head down to press his lips to her neck and sucks on her pulse point she straight-up moans; this sound escapes her lips like a dirty secret and he swears he's gonna keep it… after he hears it again and again and again.

He nips on her collarbone, feeling her body shivering against his own, and she tugs on his shirt desperately, pulling him behind her until they both collapse on the mattress. His mouth curls into a smirk as he puts his weight on her, but then she spreads her legs, raises up her hips-

And before he can even notice, he's the one laying pinned underneath her and she's the one hanging above him; her breasts brushing his chest, heavy breaths rocking her body. Mikasa has her cheeks stained pink, there's saliva smeared on her chin and bite marks on her neck; he slowly raises his hand up and loops a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His palms cup her cheek face and her eyelids shut close.

Desire doesn't go away, neither does arousal; but as he looks at her – god. God bless.

It's like everything suddenly glows. There's unexplainable sweetness that didn't use to be there before; the strawberry red summer sun warming him up.

It's like somebody reached out and covered all of his emotions in gold, made them better, more complete. Kissing has never felt like this before. Making out has never felt like this before. He could've as well never touched a girl before.

So new, so fresh, like the air after the storm and still so familiar. She's his first time and the last time; the only one he'll ever want, the one he will never get enough of.

You woke me up, baby.

His other hand sneaks underneath her shirt, trails the line of her spine, caresses her back which arches under his touch.

"Eren." She still has her eyes closed, humming his name like a melody. "Eren."

She nuzzles her cheek against his hand, turns her head a bit for her lips to reach his skin and kiss him.

I adore you. They think simultaneously, think with all of them . I was so lonely without you.

He briefly wonders what it will feel like, to tug her top up and her bra down, to put his mouth on her breasts and make her moan again. To let her pull on his hair as he blows raspberries on her inner thighs. He wants it all so badly, desires her body and her heart and her mind and her soul.

You already have it, she thinks to him and it sounds breathless even in his head.

His hands on her back press her down and she lets him; she leans and lets him kiss the remaining sense out of her until everything spins in front of her eyes and she forgets she's supposed to breathe.

 Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on them greedily and moving down and then her nails digging lightly into the nape of his neck-

Red, it’s all red everywhere, that's all he sees. Red, sticky and stinking of metal; the stifling hotness which coats his skin in sweat and makes his eyes water. 

"Eren!" she cries out, her hands reaching for him and he's running, running, blood buzzing in his ears and breath knocked out of his lungs at the fear twisting her features because Mikasa is brave, Mikasa has never been afraid of anything, Mikasa is untouchable, impossible to kill, stronger than all of them combined and yet-

And yet.

"Eren!"

She's so far.

So far away.

Something crunches underneath the soles of his boots, but he doesn't stop to check on whose corpse he stepped on.

Red is oozing from the cuts on her face; it looks as if she was crying blood. And he is stricken with the terrifying familiarity of this scene; of his mother's figure held by the gigantic hand and raised from the earth's surface. The sound of her spine splitting in half. Her blood falling down like a rain.

And him, helpless again.

He sinks his teeth into the palm of his hand again and again, and yet the lightning doesn't strike.  There's no magic this time, no transformation; and there's no spark of impossible in Mikasa either, just a small, broken, tired girl who exhausted herself to the point of almost passing out, her blades shattered, her wings torn from her back.

"Mikasa!"

Their eyes lock and her expression softens; the hand she held outstretched for him falls loose. To his horror, she looks at him with this bashful fondness … and that' when he realizes she has given up.

Her lips move, forming words which he cannot decipher because he's still so fucking, goddamn far away and he's screaming, still screaming for her, when her figure disappears in the gaping, dark hole of the titan's mouth.

[transfagged]

all 92 😘

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?no way man she’d probably dom the fuck out of me

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?nope.

3. Have you taken someones virginity?n o p e

4. Is trust a big issue for you?YEAH

5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently?like in terms of romantic??? no. like in terms of “we have a really weird relationship and idfk how i feel @ you”? yeah.

6. What are you excited for?april 19th!!! my friend and i are going to go see phoebe bridgers in madison!!!!

7. What happened tonight?its 10am so ill roll with last night: i played nv and got killed in a beautiful cacophony of deathclaws and the legion :) and then my game crashed.

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?no bc id be right there with them

9. Is confidence cute?very

10. What is the last beverage you had?i think some water? okay not the last but: hot water is so good with wildflower honey pls just drink some its good for your soul okay???

11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?opposite is bullshit but i guess like,, 3? half my friends are nonbinary so counting EVERYONE regardless of gender and shit id say 6 people

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?im a proud supporter of boys in skinny jeans and i own 2 or 3 pairs

13. What are you gonna do Saturday night?my main ho @thebonerfoy is coming up to visit me and were probably gonna pack all my shit in her car and play cards against humanity

14. What are you going to spend money on next? lmao probably my student loans. unless i can get the hours i asked for at work or a sugar daddy, then im gonna buy a proper lid for my fishtank bc my poor kid has a piece of cardboard rn.

15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed?no

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?yeah. even in a state of stagnation were changing somehow.

17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?probably amanda, but im working on trying to be better with everyone

18. The last time you felt broken?my dude, im broken right now. its okay though. like i said, im working on it. were all fckn broken somehow.

19. Have you had sex today?not unless a ghost and i got in on in my sleep. which would be pretty cool ngl

20. Are you starting to realize anything?on a deep level: i deserve respect and a lot of my issues relate directly to my upbringing, including my inability to receive praise or speak well of myselfon a not-deep level: kinda hungry.

21. Are you in a good mood?i think i just heard fedex or ups outside so my mood just skyrocketed

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?maybe like. nurse sharks. theyre really cute.

23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s?yeah

24. What do you want right this second?to take a day to go into the city with all my friends that i cant see on a regular basis

25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?probably be upset unless we discussed it beforehand. then id be fckn cheering for them like you go get some!!!! do it man!!!! in general tho: if i wasnt with them and they didnt show interest in me and showed interest in someone else id just move tf on.

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?half of it is bc my roots are growing out

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?no. too boring.

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?okay so i went to renew my library books and one of my favorite youtubers is on the library website dressed as one of his characters and i completely flipped because i watch his gaming channel and now hes interviewing authors for my library??? he doesnt even live in my town!! hes in madison!!

29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now?no? im enjoying my solitude atm

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?depends on the person

31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to?no! hes my friend and gives really good advice!

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?i think so. i mean, were kind of a thing.

33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?yeah.

34. Listening to?killer - phoebe bridgers

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?only if im doing a rough journal spread, which i dont normally do

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?hes probably in class right now. 

37. Do you believe in love at first sight?love at first sight? no. some sort of mutual infatuation/attraction? yes.

38. Who did you last call?my mom

39. Who was the last person you danced with?dancing with as in both dancing at the same time? probably amanda or my mom.

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?we were dating and he was cute lmao

41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? a couple months ago? 

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?no bc she leaves for work before i wake up

43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?constantly.

44. Do you tan in the nude?lmao no.

45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?no. as previously stated, i liked the guy and he was cute. why would i take that back?

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?yeah

47. Who was the last person to call you?my mom

48. Do you sing in the shower?sometimes

49. Do you dance in the car?yEAH

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?yes i love my bow :’) its so good and wow i love archery

51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?picture day junior year of highschool, and if that doesnt count: my mother took me in at jcp to have pictures taken when i graduated 8th grade and theyre awful bc my hair is so long and its so not me

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?excuse me, how dare you,, in this house we ask for war and peace for christmas because npgc1812 is so good and then get addicted to ghost quartet (@ anyone reading this: pls listen to ghost quartet it is so so so good)

53. Is Christmas stressful?depends on the year, but i hope in the future i can spend it with my friends :)

54. Ever eat a pierogi?i just had some last night for dinner and im probably going to eat the leftovers in a couple minutes. also, my mother is polish and we see her family for holidays, so yeah. lots of pierogi in this house.

update: i got the leftovers

55. Favorite type of fruit pie?idk??? apple? im basic okay i dont eat pie

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?1. teacher2. ballerina3. both 1 & 2, simultaneously4. paleontologist5. archaeologist6. both 4 & 5, simultaneously7. librarian8. game designer9. author/illustrator

57. Do you believe in ghosts?yeah

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?almost daily

59. Take a vitamin daily?im supposed to ;) vitamin d deficiency like a real champ

60. Wear slippers?real talk i never liked slippers but then i bought these cute pig slippers @ walmart for $10 and i love them so much i tried wearing them to sleep last night. also im wearing them rn theyre so cute

61. Wear a bath robe?i live in a dorm, so yeah. to the bathroom and back when i take a shower. sometimes im lazy and i just run around in a towel but so do half the people on my side of the hall lmao were all lazy and dead inside

62. What do you wear to bed?fluffy pajama pants or sweats, tshirt or hoodie, socks, sometimes slippers.. once i fell asleep with a beanie on. when im being an Adult i wear my actual pajamas!!! like a legit shirt and pants that match

63. First concert?none that i was old enough to remember :’) apparently my mom took me to the rodeo when we lived in texas and saw some country group but i was like 2 so idfk

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?TARGET I AM A CERTIFIED TARGET GAY

65. Nike or Adidas?adidas bc my feet are too wide to fit in nikes

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?yall real talk i used to love cheetos but i think im allergic to them now? last time i had them my throat got all swollen and hurt for like 3 days so im gonna have to say fritos. plus theyre really good if you put them in chili

67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?sunflower seeds bc im a slut for anything i can have a spitting contest with

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?lmao i used to like her when i was like. 11. not my scene anymore

69. Ever take dance lessons?i dont think so?

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?anything that makes them happy, but also something fun!!!! like wedding photographer or a baker or maybe zookeeper?

71. Can you curl your tongue?idk??? kinda????? i can tie a cherry stem so i want to say yes.

72. Ever won a spelling bee?no i always got out bc my anxiety made me stutter/rush and miss letters, so i never even got past the classroom levels to the real thing

73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?a lot!!! i laugh so hard i cry and get a stomach ache more than id like to admit

74. What is your favorite book?eleanor & park by rainbow rowell :) OR alice’s adventures in wonderland by lewis caroll

75. Do you study better with or without music?depends on if i can get into hyperfocus mode or not. if not, then i pick one song and put it on loop and blast it until it fades and is just loud background noise, but if i can focus then silence is best

76. Regularly burn incense?i used to but no burning anything in the dorms :( then i came home for break and it started giving me a headache

77. Ever been in love?i think so

78. Who would you like to see in concert?kesha, against me!, my chemical romance (rip), bigbang (also rip)

79. What was the last concert you saw?the one i mentioned earlier @ a rodeo

80. Hot tea or cold tea?hot tea

81. Tea or coffee?i live on coffee but i love tea too so both

82. Favorite type of cookie?mmm snickerdoodle. or just sugar cookies. chocolate chip is good when theyre hot and melty but not as good when theyre cold

83. Can you swim well?yeah! i love swimming!

84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?yeah?

85. Are you patient?hahahahahahhahahahhahahhaa

86. DJ or band, at a wedding?oo. oooooo. okay so dj would have more variety of music but im a sucker for live music??? idk i feel like a band would be more memorable, but what if they fuck up your favorite song??? but what if they make it more special???????

87. Ever won a contest?yeah! i won an art contest once and got my drawing printed on christmas cards for a nonprofit that did things for cancer patients!

88. Ever have plastic surgery?im 17 i dont have that kind of money

89. Which are better black or green olives?depends on what theyre in?

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?good. live your life fuck the rules

91. Best room for a fireplace?bedroom!!! i love fireplaces in bedrooms its such a Look

92. Do you want to get married?idk. if it happens then it happens. im not planning on it though.

[change-the-rules]

what I found was unbelievable but I believe it's true (it did all the things love does that's how I knew it was)

Director Sanvers

This was the result of me seeing this post, started as a combination of the prompts:

‘A sleepy good morning kiss that ends up with a palm in the face and a muttered, “brush your damn teeth first.” and A sleepy good morning kiss that ends up with a palm in the face and a muttered, “I will push you off the fucking bed if you don’t let me sleep.” but a few others snuck in too.

ft: trans!Maggie, nb!Alex, and genderfluid!Lucy

warning for brief mention of past transphobia. 

The last few years had been— Maggie didn’t want to say kind exactly— that seemed disingenuous to much of the struggle and the sacrifice they’d all been through.

It had taken nearly two years to get National City back into fully working order after the Daxamite invasion. And that was with Supergirl pulling double time on the recovery efforts after she found out how Maggie had been spending nearly all of her off duty hours, helping out the neighborhoods— read the poorer and predominantly non-white communities who were suffering without the immediate aid going to the more affluent areas.  

And it wasn’t like crime, alien or human just paused during that time leaving the NCPD and the DEO busy with the daily grind as well.

Add in a near apocalypse or two, a historic birth marking the first green and white Martian child, three more crashed pods, one of which was crashing for a second time to no one’s amusement and the drama that followed in its wake.

An almost wedding and an actual commitment ceremony, the ultimate fall of CADMUS that brought about the death of Alex’s father at the expense of rescuing Kara’s— in a surprise twist captured but not dead aunt, the second Danvers sister’s bi-panic, a narrowly avoided invasion from an alternate universe.

Alex and Lucy both coming to terms with their respective gender identities and the adjustments to their relationship it brought which tangentially led to Maggie becoming quite close with Vasquez’s wife Erin and being named guidemother to their first kid.

Breakups and promotions and retirements and surprising couplings and Life made it a hell of a four years that Maggie ultimately wouldn’t trade for anything.

At least the last pod brought the only pleasant surprise to emerge from one in the form of Krypto, who was pretty amazing in Maggie’s opinion.

Granted Maggie had such a soft spot for dogs that it wasn't saying much even with the superpowers. It did help that he and Gertrude became fast friends.

So, incredible maybe or awe-inspiring were apt descriptors for the time that had passed. 

Of course, Maggie would be the first to admit she was probably a bit biased. 

Still, there wasn’t anything she would change save for a few calls that came closer than Maggie cared to consider even now well after her spouses or her family were out of the woods.

Family.

Maggie honestly didn’t think she’d ever have one of those again. Not after being thrown out at fourteen or the abuse she suffered long before it came to that at the hands of people she was told were doing it because they loved ‘him’.

Not when she finally escaped her small town only to find just as many people, in a community who should understand, that would turn their backs on her as well.

After people who would sleep with her but wouldn’t claim her in the light of day, too many girls who wouldn’t go out with her at all.

Eventually, Maggie learned how to best avoid those types though it was far foolproof (if being a fool was expecting basic human decency no questions asked Maggie would lay claim to the title, she tried not to expect much of anything then) She started dating aliens too, most of them coming from societies not mired in Earth’s hang-ups with gender or sexuality.

The problem was human or alien, the fourth or so set of hastily canceled plans because of work typically spelled out the end of any fledgling relationship.

Maggie had all but given hope of finding some happily ever after ending.

She had work and she had volunteering at the LGBTQ youth center. She had Adrian who she loved like her own and his seemingly endless strays that she was always happy to help with whether they needed an ear or an example, a home cooked meal or her ties with the justice system.

And that was enough.

It had to be.

But now? Now Maggie had two amazing partners and the kind of unconditional love she craved her whole life.  

She remembers watching her grandparents as a child enamored with the way her vovó would look at her vovô like he had the secrets of the universe in his eyes.

And as she got older she saw not only that tangible love that hadn’t faded at all but also but how it never prevented her vovó from calling him on his shit.

She saw how their love never wavered and that communication only made their relationship stronger. Which led Maggie to wonder what the hell had happened to her own father.

The painful memories of that life had long ago scabbed over but she had finally begun to heal with the support from her newfound family.

Being loved by Alex and Lucy was everything she ever dreamed and more.

It also meant winding up with two sisters, two brothers, a few in- laws, a space dad, a mom, an aunt (though Alex would would always deny that particular moniker, Maggie and Lucy would only tease them sometimes considering the circumstances but were unable to fully resist knowing the grumbling was due to the crush Alex had on Astra when the general first showed up well before Alex recognized it for what it was) or two aunts-ish, it was beyond surreal to think of Cat Grant as aunt even after the media mogul shocked everyone by getting together with Astra.

Maggie did readily accept Carter as her nephew however, he and Adrian got on like a house on fire and Maggie who spent so many years in isolating loneliness could scarcely believe how full her life had become.

These thoughts buzzed pleasantly in her chest as Maggie stretched in the warm patch of sunlight that was angled so it just hit the middle of the bed where she had fallen asleep last night. She could feel Lucy snuggled up against her back and hear Alex’s heartbeat from where her head had gravitated to their chest.  

She nuzzled her head closer placing a lazy kiss above their heart. Slowly waking up as she trailed languid kisses up their neck. Alex stirred slightly, a smile stretching across their face as they leaned into the contact eyes still closed.

Their lips meet in a sweet sleepy kiss and Maggie marvels at how right it still feels every time.

She feels the nose scrunch before she feels Alex’s palm pushing at her face, a muttered, “Brush your damn teeth first,” follows and Maggie can't help the full blown chuckle that shakes her shoulders and dislodges Lucy who grumbles while rolling over but doesn't wake up.

Maggie moves with her, pausing only to stick her tongue out at Alex who simply rolls their eyes at the gesture which Maggie reads as ‘good, subject Lucy to your morning breath while I go brush my teeth then.’ 

She ends up in a mirrored position with her head now on Lucy's chest instead of Alex's.

As soon as the two of them settle, Alex shifts. Awake now, they drop a kiss on Maggie's head and then Lucy's as they rise from their side of the bed to pad towards the bathroom.

Maggie lays there listening to the sounds of Lucy's heartbeat and Alex puttering around the bathroom. It's rare all three of them have a day off together and Maggie is content to laze in bed for a while basking in the novel illusion of zero responsibility.

Eventually, Maggie props herself up on one on one arm reaching out to tuck some hair behind Lucy’s ear.

She places a kiss on Lucy's forehead, then her nose and cheek. She leans in breath just ghosting Lucy's lips and suddenly Maggie finds herself on the receiving end of reflexes honed over years of precision training, Lucy's hand locks securely around the back of Maggie's neck bringing her in for a bruising kiss.

Maggie shifts slightly her body moving to mold into Lucy's but before she can follow through on the action there's a palm pushing against her forehead and then she's suddenly flat on her back staring up at the ceiling while Lucy growls out, “I will push you off the fucking bed if you don’t let me sleep.”

Maggie weighs her options for all of half a second before darting back up with a grin to peck Lucy on the lips, laughing even as she crashes to the floor.

She's still chuckling as she picks herself up and makes her way to the kitchen. 

Maggie has a pot of coffee brewing and is in the process of chopping up vegetables for omelets when she hears the door open and other tell-tale signs that Alex is back from their run.

Sure enough seconds later a sweaty Alex wraps their arms around Maggie from behind.

“Get off me until you shower, Danvers.” Maggie all but whines. Pulling the dish towel off her shoulder and using it to swat at Alex as they steal vegetables from the cutting board, ignoring Alex’s pout.

“I thought you liked it when I got all sweaty.” Maggie makes a show of rolling her eyes even though she knows that Alex knows what that tone of voice does to her.

“No, I like watching you work out and I like making you sweat. You coming back from a run and sweating all over our breakfast I could do without.” Maggie punctuates her statement by pointing her knife in Alex’s general direction.

Alex puts their hands up in mock surrender, sighing dramatically, “Alright shower it is…...you could always join me…” Alex says and Maggie doesn’t know where she finds the resolve against that lit.

“Breakfast first, Romeo.” She manages without her own voice betraying her as she turns her focus back to the skillet.

This time Alex’s sigh is a real one and Maggie immediately turns back around to snag their hand. She pulls Alex into a kiss mindful of the hot metal behind her, “We can get you all sweaty again after we eat— real food.” She adds before Alex can make a smart ass comment.

Too much time around Lucy, Maggie would tell anyone who would listen as if all three of them hadn’t entered the relationship fully fluent in sarcasm.  

Alex concedes with one last lingering kiss that warms parts of Maggie that cannot be blamed on the heat from the stove.

Maggie has two omelets plated, a third in one pan and another frying pan slowly heating oil when Alex emerges from the bedroom in their binder and a half-buttoned flannel.

Just the flannel.

“Luce still isn’t up yet?” Alex asks.

“You were the one just in there,” Maggie responds without looking away from the oil that’s just started sizzling.

Alex lightly shoves her shoulder, “ I meant why isn’t Luce up yet?”

Maggie still doesn’t look up as she starts frying bacon, “It’s our day off babe, not all of us need to start it before the sun’s fully up with a run like you besides wait for it in three, two, one…”

“Bacon.” Maggie laughs as Lucy appears in the door frame squinting at the sun like it just called her lieutenant.

Maggie hands over a cup of coffee spinning Lucy around and into Alex’s arms before she can try and pluck a piece of half-cooked bacon directly out of the scalding hot oil.

Lucy grumbles incoherently into said coffee as Alex snorts, “All those years in the army shouldn’t you be a morning person?” Alex teases.

Lucy glares at Alex. “I had to be up at the crack ass of dawn every day, I didn’t have to enjoy it.”

“So I shouldn’t have paid Josie’s kid down the hall to start playing reveille in the mornings?” Maggie chimes in and Lucy switches her glare to the back of Maggie’s head.

As Alex notices the coffee start to kick in they ask, “Lucy today?”

The cup clinks onto the counter and Alex notices the pause and the slightly unfocused stare. It only lasts a second or two before Lucy mhmm’s in the affirmative.

So Alex smiles at their wife who doesn’t notice because Maggie has dropped some bacon on the plate in front of her.

Alex themself barely notices their own plate as Maggie turns off the flame to join them both with her own breakfast. Alex thinks not for the first time that the legal system can go screw itself because their wives are amazing.

Maggie looks up from her plate catching Alex’s lovesick grin, “Oh my god Danvers, food.”Maggie orders as if she hadn’t been half watching her partners in the reflection of the oven door the entire time she finished cooking.

Lucy mumbles something that sounds like, “ Seriously. quit looking at us like Bambi and eat your damn breakfast would you.” but it’s hard to tell around the mouthful of bacon.

Alex doesn’t stop grinning but they do finally pick up a fork. There isn’t much talking as everyone’s attention is finally turned to eating but when their plates are empty Maggie’s head tilts, attention grabbed by Alex’s shirt.

They puff out their chest a little about to make comment along the lines of ‘see something you like?’

 Maggie beats them to it.

Just not in the way Alex was angling for.

“Is that my flannel?” Maggie asks unable to tell with the cuffed up sleeves masking their actual length.

Alex huffs a little, “Does it even matter anymore?”

“Well, no.” Maggie responds confused by the slight edge in Alex’s voice.

They stand up and start collecting the dishes to bring to the sink while Maggie and Lucy look on.

“Alex?” Maggie would swear up and down her voice did not just crack.

“Yes?” Alex questions right back without bothering to turn around.

“You aren’t wearing pants.” Lucy says dryly even as her eyes give her desire away.

“Took you long enough to notice.”

Maggie and Lucy exchange a glance and stand at the same time moving seamlessly over to where Alex is standing by the sink. Maggie presses herself into Alex’s back as Lucy moves to take the dish Alex is washing out of their hands.

“It’s our day off, the dishes will still be there tomorrow.” Lucy tempts. Alex gets lost in green eyes as Maggie presses kisses up the back of their neck. She nips at Alex’s ear, “You know you worked out this morning but we haven’t.”

Alex swallows hard as Maggie and Lucy each take a hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging Alex towards the bedroom.

Vasquez makes them promise a weekend of babysitting for covering for them when they need the next day to recoup from their day off.

I realized I can’t think of Maggie having a found family without Adrian being a part of it, He’s the creation of @queercapwriting I just borrowed him for sec.

I might have failed in op's original intent with op's 'real domestic otp scenarios' but like I want this let me hold out hope mmm'kay

I wrote this while avoiding real life kicking my ass so I’m hoping it actually turned out all right...

[therealkn]

David’s Resolution - Day 13

Day 13 (January 13, 2019)

Master of the House (1925)

“THOU SHALT HONOR THY WIFE!”

Fair warning, but this review has some more colorful language than usual. There is a reason why, but yeah.

Anyway.

Master of the House (or Du skal ære din hustru) is considered another classic film from Carl Theodor Dreyer, who did another film I watched and reviewed for this resolution: 1928′s The Passion of Joan of Arc, which was an excellent film. So I decided “You know what, I have two other Dreyer films, let’s go through them.” Next review is another Dreyer film, probably his other most well-known film.

The film, adapted from Svend Rindom’s play “The Tyrant’s Fall”, is a domestic comedy taking place in a city apartment occupied by the Frandsens. The Frandsens are Viktor (Johannes Meyer, who looks a lot like Christopher Plummer), his wife Ida (Astrid Holm, previously the Salvation Army Sister Edit in Victor Sjöström’s The Phantom Carriage, which is another silent film I recommend), and their three children. Ida is a distraught and overworked housewife who spends practically every waking second of her day and night doing everything for her family: laundry, cooking, cleaning, mending, minding the kids, the whole nine yards as my dad would say. Fortunately, she has Mads - pronounced “Mess” and played by Mathilde Nielsen, reprising her role from the stage play - to help her out and share the workload. Mads is an old family friend who was once Viktor’s nanny when he was a kid, and 

And speaking of dads, Viktor is not a great one. Calling him an asshole is being polite. I mentioned his actor’s resemblance to Christopher Plummer and now that I think about it, Viktor is like if, during the production of The Sound of Music, Plummer was replaced with his mirror universe self and played his character as this atrocious shitlord and then everyone said “...Screw it, just roll with it.” because he looked like he would kill you if you disagreed with him. ...You know what. Normally I don’t go too into detail about specific scenes in the movie, because I’m lazy and also because I don’t want to spoil too much, but for this occasion, I’m gonna walk you through the beginning of the film. Because you should know how much of a cockbag Viktor is. You need to feel the hate and let it flow into you.

The film begins with Ida going through a busy morning while her husband sleeps. She gets the stove running, mends a button on her son’s suspenders, and gets breakfast ready, and all the while their daughter Karen (Karin Nellemose) helps out in the kitchen. Ida wakes her husband, who asks where his slippers are once he’s sitting up in bed... and Karen gets them out from the bedside drawer. Why they don’t just tell the lazy shit to look in the drawer, I don’t know. Ida starts hanging laundry, then she and Karen get breakfast ready. Once Victor gets his ass out of bed and sits at the table, he’s immediately upset because “God knows how often I have told you that the coffee must be on the table when I enter in the morning!” Some of you may want to stab him just for saying that, and I feel you there.

Oh, but it’s not over yet. He then complains about a hole in his shoe (go fix it yourself or take it to the cobbler, fuck-bucket), then complains about not having a spoon to stir his coffee (get the fucking spoon yourself, you lazy shitbird), and then wants more butter on his bread. Going off on a tangent for a bit, but the amount of butter on his bread is ridiculous. He wants so much butter on his bread that it’s spread more like cake frosting than butter. Who puts that much butter on bread, or anything for that matter? Insert your own Paula Deen joke here, I don’t have one for you. But is having that much butter on bread a Danish thing? Because I’m from a country that is famous for its unhealthy eating habits, and looking at this makes me ill.

And we’re still going. So his wife literally scrapes the extra butter off everyone else’s bread so that this dickhead can be happy, with him remarking “So, you had some stashed out there!” He groans that Ida’s apparently more concerned with her birds than him, asks if his coat was brushed (it wasn’t until after he said it), and all with this look that says, “I am so disappointed in all of you.” And as he leaves to go to wherever, he sees Mads coming over and goes “Oh, are we having you today!” and I wanted to stab this motherfucker so goddamn badly that you have no idea.

And that is just the beginning. The tyranny from the assholiest of holies only keeps going, and it gets worse if you can believe it. And throughout all of this, the family is doing the best they can to appease him, like he’s the center of their lives. Calling him an asshole is an understatement; it’s why I’m using more colorful language to describe him. At one point I actually went “Honey, just grab a knife, hold it to his dick, and tell him that if he doesn’t straighten up real quick, Little Mister Happy will go missing. Trust me, you threaten a guy’s junk with a knife and they will listen!” And finally it gets to the point that after both Mads and his mother-in-law show up, he demands that either they leave or he does. So Mads decides that it’s time to teach the prick a lesson by having Ida sent away to the countryside while she asserts dominance in the house, forcing Victor to assume many of the tasks that his wife had to do and that he took for granted. And my God, is the catharsis of seeing him humbled so delicious. If you feel like cackling evilly as this happens, trust me, I do not blame you.

And as I watched all of this unfold, as Viktor established himself as the shitlord that he is, I remarked that this would never happen in my house because if my dad even thought of acting like that, my mom would chew his ass out. Or stab him. Or shoot him. Or chew him out, then stab him, then shoot him. I want to state for the record that I am not serious and this is just a joke, as my mom and dad are wonderful people who love each other very much and have been happily married for over 30 years. Furthermore, they have never tried to kill each other. To my knowledge. (That last part is also a joke. They’ve never tried to kill each other and would never.) What I’m trying to say is that my mom is not the kind of person who would suffer this lightly, and she would not let that shit happen.

But yeah, that’s the big message of the movie. It’s not subtle, it’s not alluded to, it’s Dreyer deciding “Fuck subtlety” and he puts it there, black and white, clear and crystal. “Don’t be a dick to your family. Don’t take what they do for granted. Honor your spouse and be good to them.” And the way it’s done is just great, as it’s treated with some lightness and humor, but at the same time you really see Viktor go through this very fulfilling character development as he realizes what exactly his wife goes through for his sake and his family’s sake and realizing how much of a bastard he’s been. The last act of the film is beautiful and has such great acting, you really need to see it for yourself.

This was a really good movie, and I would recommend you all watch it. I think you should know that if I see any silent movies, I will recommend them to everyone. Silent movies are awesome.

Next time: A walking waking nightmare.

[underabr0kensky]

In case anyone wants to know more about me

1: Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? Closed, I have so much shit in front of them I can’t open them.

2: Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel? Not usually because I use it all.

3: Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out? Tucked in. What the fuck do you think I am, a barbarian?

4: Have you ever stolen a street sign before? Nope, but the street sign for the street I grew up on got stolen constantly because “Roger” is a common name.

5: Do you like to use post-it notes? Nope. I think I’ve used them like once.

6: Do you cut out coupons but then never use them? Nah, fuck coupons.

7: Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees? Bees. I’d probably survive that.

8: Do you have freckles? I do not.

9: Do you always smile for pictures? I never open-mouth smile.

10: What is your biggest pet peeve? I’m not sure, I have a lot. Probably one-word text responses. If you send me “K” I’ll burn down your house.

11: Do you ever count your steps when you walk? Nope.

12: Have you ever peed in the woods? Yes.

13: What about pooped in the woods? No, I’m not a filthy beast.

14: Do you ever dance even if there’s no music playing? Sometimes, yeah. I just bounce to a rhythm. Also I’ll have you know that I had to correct “theres” in this question. Get your shit together.

15: Do you chew your pens and pencils? Nope.

16: How many people have you slept with this week? That’s a big zero, you ass.

17: What size is your bed? Queen-sized, because I’m a queen.

18: What is your Song of the week? I don’t have one. Maybe something epic by Two Steps from Hell.

19: Is it okay for guys to wear pink? Yes, who gives a fuck what colors anyone wears? Some guys look damn good in pink. I am not one of them.

20: Do you still watch cartoons? Yep. Anime too! They are different go fuck yourself.

21: Whats your least favorite movie? Man of Steel. It’s legitimately the worst film I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some? Under a DMV. Nobody would ever voluntarily go to a DMV or spend more time there than they absolutely have to.

23: Bra size or pants size? I actually don’t know my pant size. I think it’s changed recently because I’ve gotten bigger from working out and now none of my pants fit comfortably.

24: What do you dip a chicken nugget in? Nothing, I’m not a dipping sauce person.

25: What is your favorite food? Anything Italian. Probably lasagna.

26: What movies could you watch over and over and still love? School of Rock, A Christmas Carol (the George C. Scott version), 300, Casino, Goodfellas, all the Tremors films, the Harry Potter films, LoTR, the Hobbit films, I could keep going. I like movies.

27: Last person you kissed/kissed you? Destinee, that was back in like October. My existence is a lonely one.

28: Were you ever a boy/girl scout? Yeah, a looong time ago.

29: Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine? For money, why not?

30: When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? Sometime in January of last year.

31: Can you change the oil on a car? Yeah, it’s not hard.

32: Ever gotten a speeding ticket? Nope, and I have no idea how, because I speed literally everywhere I go.

33: Ever ran out of gas? I’ve never been driving while running out of gas, but I have pulled into the gas station with my car coughing at me because it was so low.

34: Favorite kind of sandwich? PB+J. I am a simple man.

35: Best thing to eat for breakfast? A flour tortilla with bacon, scrambled eggs, and refried beans. Fuck I’m hungry now.

36: What is your usual bedtime? When I have work I’m not up past 9 PM, I’m usually in bed before then. When I don’t have work I’ll stay up until I physically can’t anymore.

37: Are you lazy? As fuck.

38: When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween? I dressed as Ghostface from Scream most of the time. I had a mask that pumped fake blood into it whenever I squeezed this rubber heart attached to it and it freaked everyone out.

39: What is your Chinese astrological sign? Monkey. I had to look this up.

40: Are you horny? Actually, yeah. Fucking horny as fuck and it’s pissing me off.

41: Do you have any magazine subscriptions? National Geographic, Rolling Stone, and I think one other one. I can’t remember.

42: Which are better legos or lincoln logs? Who the fuck would pick Lincoln logs over Legos?

43: Are you stubborn? Mules complain about how stubborn I am.

44: Who is better...Leno or Letterman? I’m not a fan of either.

45: Ever watch soap operas? Only one, Dark Shadows. I loved that show as a kid.

46: Are you afraid of heights? Nope.

47: Do you sing in the car? All the time. It’s how I practice my singing usually.

48: Do you sing in the shower? Sometimes.

49: Do you dance in the car? Oh yes. Headbang too.

50: Ever used a gun? Many times. I like shooting.

51: Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? I have no idea. A long time ago.

52: Do you think musicals are cheesy? Hell no, I love musicals.

53: Is Christmas stressful? I never used to think so, but now that I work retail, fucking yes.

54: Ever eat a pierogi? Mhmm. They’re good.

55: Favorite type of fruit pie? I don’t really care for fruit pies, but probably pumpkin.

56: Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? A demolition derby driver, and a paleontologist.

57: Do you believe in ghosts? I’d like to. I think there’s some pretty compelling evidence but I’ve never seen anything myself so I’m still skeptical.

58: Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? All the time.

59: Take a vitamin daily? Nah, I should though.

60: Wear slippers? Nope.

61: Wear a bath robe? Nope.

62: What do you wear to bed? Usually just a shirt and my underwear. Sometimes just my underwear. Sometimes nothing.

63: First concert? Killswitch Engage with Parkway Drive, Every Time I Die, and Escape Plan.

64: Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? Well I work at Wal-Mart. So either of the other two.

65: Nike or Adidas? Fuck both. Overrated and overpriced.

66: Cheetos Or Fritos? Fritos forever.

67: Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? Peanuts.

68: Ever hear of the group Tres Bien? Who?

69: Ever take dance lessons? Yes. Salsa dancing.

70: Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? Nah, as long as she’s doing something she loves I don’t care. Unless it’s like contract killing or something.

71: Can you curl your tongue? Yep. It helps me play harmonica.

72: Ever won a spelling bee? Yeah, a bunch of times.

73: Have you ever cried because you were so happy? Yeah I have.

74: Own any record albums? Nope. My dad does though.

75: Own a record player? See above.

76: Regularly burn incense? I used to.

77: Ever been in love? Yeah. Once.

78: Who would you like to see in concert? Children of fucking Bodom goddamn it I’ve missed them three times

79: What was the last concert you saw? Danimal Cannon and Dethlehem.

80: Hot tea or cold tea? How about no tea?

81: Tea or coffee? Fucking neither.

82: Sugar or snickerdoodles? Snickerdoodles.

83: Can you swim well? I can swim well enough to not look like a complete ass in the water.

84: Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? Yeah.

85: Are you patient? Nah, not usually.

86: DJ or band, at a wedding? Band. I’m not gonna be dancing to shitstep.

87: Ever won a contest? Yep. I won a contest in Kindergarten to go to O’charley’s in a limo, and I won another one several years later and got to talk to Arnold Schwarzenegger on the phone :)

88: Ever have plastic surgery? Fuck no.

89: Which are better black or green olives? I hate olives.

90: Can you knit or crochet? Nah.

91: Best room for a fireplace? Living room.

92: Do you want to get married? Yes.

93: If married, how long have you been married? I am not married.

94: Who was your HS crush? I dated the same girl throughout most of high school.

95: Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way? Nah.

96: Do you have kids? Fuck no.

97: Do you want kids? Fuck no.

98: Whats your favorite color? Black. Also, what’s*

99: Do you miss anyone right now? I sure as hell do. Two people.

[recoverydiariesposts]

Lovely, he says he's gonna take the day, because he doesn't feel well. Not sick, just sore arms. I can't believe this. He's gonna get fired three days in and then I'm gonna have to apply to places sooner because we need money.

Like I don't wanna be rude but yesterday when he pulled his back, his shift manager said "OK you go home now bye" I dunno about you but that doesn't sound happy to me, I think they're mad cause he's only worked two days and hes gone home early on both. I'm so angry.

Not to mention I was planning to go back to bed after seeing him off, I'm exhausted, emotionally and physically, I really wanted a bit extra sleep. And now I'm gonna have to suffer all fucking day of Yugioh and get no relief for two fucking days, cause tomorrow is his actual day off. Honestly I think he's not trying hard enough, I know he's sore, but you soak your body and take a pain killer, then head off to another day, cause we need that money. And I know that sounds insensitive, but for fuck sake I worked from 7am to 3pm on a ranch, plus my lessons, I was always sore from either the 9 hours of hard manual labor or cause my horse threw me off and I was bruised. But I never canceled my work because I loved my job and they really needed the help. Now instead making the 316 euro this week we need, with all the leaving early and unpayed sick day he's about to have, we'll make maybe 200 bucks, if he works the full 8 hours on Sunday, doubt it though. Our bills are starting to come in, we really needed his full paycheck.

For fuck sake, tbh I think he should just work part time cause obviously he can't handle a whole 8 hours work, and then I'll take up a job and work as long as I can, even ask for longer shifts if possible. We need the money really badly. Also you know why he can't handle this work? It's cause in the past 5 years I've know him, and the 5 before that, he thought fast food work was beneath him so he refused to apply, and cause he doesn't want to work he just applied every once in a while.

Now, cause they don't fucking believe him, his manager says that he needs a note from the doctor. He doesn't even know if he can get in.

Guys I don't know how much more I can take of this, he's been so incredibly lazy our whole relationship, I never get a break from him because he's always home, and now that I finally got 8 hours a day of a break, he's screwing this job up for himself, so when they fire him he won't be able to put them down as experience because one they'll probably be truthful about how he always leaves early and even if his back pain is that bad he's a liability, and two nowhere will take two days as experience. I can hear him right now in the bedroom on the phone with his mom, and I bet you money that she's telling him he's being too hard on himself when he just said "I feel like I'm not trying hard enough and just making excuses". Like woman you're supposed to be his reasoning and you're letting him be lazy and reaffirming his excuses. Go to the doctor and get your back fixed again if it hurts that fucking bad, I've said this for three years. But he doesn't listen.

I just fucking hate this. I should've taken his first job as a warning. He told me that when he was 17 he fucking had a part time job in a bar, and he quit after two weeks. I should have seen this bullshit coming.

I don't wanna spend time him at all today, I had fucking plans. I wanted to go and buy hair dye to finally not have green gray hair, I wanted to feel pretty, and then fucking fold all the clothes in the bedroom which is fun when I'm alone listening to music. But now I'm gonna be stuck home, only getting to go to the store for lunch and dinner as a break, and he's gonna make me microwave his food and spoon it into a bowl for him. Like a toddler. I was so happy lately cause I didn't have to do everything all day anymore, I got to clean a bunch, and now, like always, he'll suck my energy out and make me feel like I can't even wash dishes.

You know, from all this, I do regret getting married, I should have lived alone for a year, probably should have broken up with him the first time he yelled at me for having no signal to talk to him 24/7 or when he said my 100 selfies he demanded weren't cut anymore. We broke up countless times over the 2 years long distance, once the day after he took my virginity because he felt like he wasn't good enough for me and that I deserved better. I did, but my dumb teen ass was so terrified of being alone I clung to the nearest thing that loved me. I should have been allowed to be a teen and hook up with people, and smoke and drink and just live my life. I'm 21 nearly and I've got one friend that's 3000 miles away, I'm depressed and suicidal all day everyday, my libido is nonexistent unless I'm alone, and I'm constantly dreaming of some hot girl or guy sweeping me off my feet and giving me the relationship I've always wanted. Hell, giving me hot sex without having to stop every ten thrusts, I'm so sick of sex with my spouse, I'm never satisfied and he's useless for the rest of the day after because he doesn't exercise. I hate to admit it but I fake everything about 80% of the time, the only time I don't is when it's from behind cause I can imagine someone else screwing me. I know its fucked up, but honestly he's letting himself go, but also whining about how he's nearly 300 lbs, I don't find him or his complaints attractive, I don't think I ever did. Like don't complain if you're gonna refuse walking for years and then blame me for the weight gain. I make proper portions, if you didn't eat two full meals for lunch nearly everyday for a year you wouldnt gain. He eats two 600 calories tikkas for lunch all the time.

Now he's said "sure come on down" to his fucking sister, she brings her trash every week or so cause its 50 quid a week for a bin over here and she doesn't have that money, so she uses ours. But, WITHOUT ASKING ME (again), he's said she can come on over with her hundreds of heavy bags, THAT HE CAN EVEN HELP WITH CAUSE HIS FUCKING BACK, so I've now got more work to do when today was supposed to be relaxing. I fucking hate my life, I want out.

[linssikeittomies]

Apocalypse. In 50 Years. Chapter 2 (WIP)

I have zero inspiration to write this story -_- I can’t even name the chapter, let alone finish it... Anyone, please adopt this project if you find it even the least bit interesting.

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Ahh, Saturday morning! Nowhere to go, nothing to do but enjoy the soft bed and drift in and out of sleep for as long as I want… “GAAAH!” What the fuck?! Rapture is standing right next to my bed, peering down at me like it’s totally normal! What is wrong with her?! “I see you are awake”, she comments flatly. “I see you camped out next to my bed!”

I don’t remember her being there in the evening, did she come in later to guard my sleep? ‘Cause I would appreciate her doing it a bit further away! And she’s still not making any kind of move to give me some peace! “Do you mind?” She just tilts her head like a dog trying to understand something. Well, my morning’s already ruined, so might as well get up early. “I wanna get dressed. I prefer not to have an audience.” Rapture leaves the room and closes the door behind her without a word. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t start talking with (or rather, complain at) Meta, either. I dig out some clothes again, going through outfits to see which elicits the least sense of wrong. But all of them feel exactly the same – not wrong at all. Just what is going on? Should I be worried? I’m not gonna lie, I’m relieved the feeling is at long last gone, after suffering from constant pressure for damn near a decade, but having it just disappear like that! Does… does it have something to do with my guardian angel? Rapture said she and Meta replaced the guardian angel I had, and I stopped feeling wrong right after the hand waved me goodbye… Wow, jerk move, guardian angel! Making me feel like crap about myself, never letting me know what’s right, nooooo, everything just had to be wrong! Thanks a bunch! That’s your idea of guidance? Forcing me to choose what feels a fraction less wrong? Unbelievable! Seeing Meta passed out on the couch doesn’t do much to lift my spirits, either. You’d think an angel would take her job of guarding the grandmother of Christ just a tad more seriously. Rapture might have been stalking me in my sleep, but at least she was awake for any possible threats rushing in the window or whatever. And speaking of her… The reason she stayed quietly earlier was because she wanted to complain to me once I got out. “Look at her! She is terrible! She sleeps all night and most of the morning, some of the day even!” Honestly, why meeeeee? These two maniacs are gonna drive me to manslaughter. “And even her waking time she wastes on TV and punching walls!” Heaven has TV? Or did these two just mainly spend their time on Earth? What would a Heaven TV show even be about? Mostly reality, or news, or dramas? I have a little trouble believing creatures of virtue would make soap operas. I mean, I doubt they have genitals to cheat on their spouses with. And their kids couldn’t get into drugs, due to, you know, not existing? Or… hmm. Well, I could just ask - if Rapture would let me get a word in edgewise. “What am I to do with this lazy sack of immorality? I have never had this problem with any of the other garrison members! I might even say she is doing this on purpose! Just look! She has yet to even stir!” Yeah, it really was starting to look like Meta was pissing off her partner on purpose. No one should be able to sleep through her shrill nagging. Could it really be possible they had worked together for so long Meta simply got used to it and it turned into background noise? Was that what the “blessed silence” was about? Rapture finally shut up for five minutes and it kinda scared Meta? Now that I thought about it, her voice hadn’t been at all the tired-of-this-crap bitchy tone, but all, like, soft and full of wonder. It was almost… I dunno, endearing? That someone who pretended to be such a tough gal could go deredere from something so simple as silence? Was Meta secretly a tsundere? I wonder if she watches anime? Oh, Rapture had actually quieted down at some point. Am I already so used to her nagging it turned into background noise? Crap, and she’s looking at me so expectantly, too. She wants an answer. I panic so I shrug, and go to making breakfast much noisier than needed, both to get Rapture off my back and wake up Meta. And surprisingly enough, I achieve both goals! Rapture is for some reason more interested in my cooking than harassing me for an answer, and Meta stirs soon enough, and for once looks pretty content. Well, at least for a full five seconds, then she notices Rapture and her face sours right back into Warheads territory. Rapture’s gown has a definite blue undertone this morning, and I’m pretty sure her hair is also curlier than yesterday. And of course I saw her removing her wings yesterday, so clearly angels can change their appearance at will, and Rapture does it as both emphasis and whim. Meta, on the other hand, looks exactly the same as yesterday, I don’t think even her hair part has moved a single millimeter. Why would she choose to look so plain? I’m really lucky for my natural good looks so I don’t actually need to use much makeup, but miss Asuka here could look like anything she wants, literally just by wanting! She could be a hundred times more beautiful than me equipped with all the makeup skills in the universe! Rapture sits next to me at the table, while Meta stays on the couch. She’s still technically at the table, since it’s pushed against the back of couch. There’s not enough room in my place to separate the furniture by much. I wouldn’t even bother with a table if I didn’t need a surface to sew on. Doing it on the floor was a massive pain for the two weeks I tried to endure. As Rapture watches me eat in keen attention, I start feeling rude for not offering them anything. I doubt angels need to eat - but then again, I never expected they could be plain, bitchy lesbians. “Do angels need to eat? ‘Cause I can make you guys something if you’re hungry.” “We are beings of pure energy, and as such are incapable of consuming anything material”, Rapture says proudly, still staring at me chewing. Careful there, you could make a girl self-conscious. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still like eating”, Meta quips, not even fully facing me. I’m hoping it’s because then she would also have to see Rapture, and not because she’s an ass. “Well, I have tea, coffee, eggs, bread, um, not really much else… The selection's not great, but it's there if you’d like something.” “Nah, I only like smokes.” Figures. On the plus side, now I don’t need to waste my depleting reserves on someone this rude. Rapture also declines, because she finds consuming food disgusting. I don’t get it, but hey, I’m not a being of pure energy. Rapture takes in a breath and turns to Meta, who immediately announces she’s going to get some damn smokes already. I can’t say I really blame her, Rapture was obviously right about to start another rant. Still, if she starts smoking inside, I’ll have to take McNaggety’s side. Surprisingly enough, Rapture makes no move to follow her. She just sighs deep and frowns slightly. “...The material might do nothing for us physically, but the psychological effects can be great.” “So, you’re saying Meta is addicted to nicotine?” Now that’s a weird thought. An angel, addicted to a substance of vice! Ha! “No, to the placebo calming effect”, Rapture specifies. “She has simply decided smoking is calming, and now her psyche reacts to cigarettes that way.” She doesn’t even look all that angry. I get the impression Rapture actually likes Meta a bit and lashes out because she’s tired of seeing her ruin her own life. “There are times when I worry about her greatly, it is not good for a Heavenly creature to rely on Earthly materials. And she is a chain smoker.” Yeah, she actually does sound worried. I had her pegged as the can-only-feel-mad-at-lesser-beings-type, but maybe they’re both tsundere? “Wonder what she’s so stressed about.” “I would not know. She has been like that since before she came to my employ.” “And how long have you worked together?” And there goes all the worry right out the window. Rapture scoffs like I asked the most ridiculous question in the world with the most obvious answer in existence, and assumed she didn’t know it. “Together? She is my underling. She works for me, not with me.” Yup, that settles it, Rapture is just a dick who can’t think of others as sentient beings. Meta doesn’t seem like the ideal employee, I’ll give her that, or even a conventional angel, but she still has feelings and worth. “And to answer your question, she has worked for me for 57 years.” I suddenly have less desire to interact with her than a puddle of vomit, so I quietly down the last of my porridge. I wanna complain to Saida, but with the disaster of Meta cursing out Ricky yesterday, I don’t feel like introducing those two firecrackers to each other. And I’m not pathetic enough for vaguebooking, so suffering alone it is. Checking emails - nothing about the lecture materials being fixed yet, facebook – the same old clickbait articles as yesterday, class whatsapp – 200+ new messages, last one from yesterday about Ellie’s party tomorrow, tumblr – not touching that with an angel of the Lord looming over my shoulder…

About ten minutes into 9gag Meta comes back in the front door, visibly calmer and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. Rapture said they’re completely incorporeal, but then shouldn’t the smell not linger? Maybe their bodies are just a teeny tiny percentage physical? As I scrunch up my nose, Meta realizes this and actually apologizes for the smell. Guess she really needed those smokes, huh. There might even be a decent person somewhere inside that smelly old curmudgeon. But back to that physicality question. “Can you feel touch?” I ask. “Or, more like, can you be touched at all? If you’re not physical, I mean.” “We can be touched, sure, because the more power an angel has the more corporeal their body has to be”, Meta explains without a hint of condescension. She becomes thoughtful, and crosses her hands. “But we have no nervous system, our psyche has to consciously create the feeling. Most of us have no interest in creating autonomous sensations, ‘cause it takes a lot of effort for not much gain, but it is possible.” “That’s pretty interesting.” She smiles sadly, and I’m thrown off track. She really goddamn needed those smokes. “For humans, I guess. I might be the only angel to ever use it.” But then Rapture scoffs loudly and Meta remembers who else is in the room, and the moment is gone. She glares at her with poison daggers in her eyes, basically challenging her boss to just say something, motherfucker. Trying to defuse the bomb, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “That’s pretty cool, you can’t get hurt accidentally!” And it works. Rapture proudly announces she has never been hurt, because she never imagined what it feels like, and Meta simmers down to thoughtfully stroke her palm with a thumb.

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Both angels have a reason for why they act the way they do. Whether they’re good reasons or not is another matter entirely.