#i still feel so young halfway through 21

[ace-no-isha]

one thing i can say is no one loves luffy like i do he is my baby forever i do not care

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Prompthagoreum Theorum. Cheers to ya'll for still following along despite it being, you know, June.]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) 23: apology (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

At first, partially because it's 6am, neither of them recognise what Rosie is actually saying. But it's clearly directed at Sherlock, who looks at John from the table with an eyebrow raised.

John shrugs. 'What was that, sweetheart?'

She helpfully points at Sherlock. 'Say sorry!'

'Oh ba--balderdash,' John says. 'There was an episode of that Australian programme about apologising, I didn't think--'

'Be sorry, Sherlock!'

Sherlock looks merely amused. 'What for, Miss Rosamund?'

She moves her pointer finger to John, but her accusatory gaze stays on Sherlock. 'You ate banana.'

'I… ate your father's banana without asking?'

She nods decisively. 'Say sorry.'

'I'm very sorry, John. I shall ask next time before doing anything nefarious with your banana.'

How they manage to keep straight faces, John has no idea, but they deserve an Olympic sodding medal in parenting for it.

'She's not even old enough to really get the concept of apologising,' he says as it occurs to him. 'I can't--'

'Nonsense, she's brilliant. Aren't you?' This last is to Rosie, obviously, as he clears away her cereal bowl.

John rolls his eyes. 'Oh, so now you're in favour of emotional intelligence.'

'When it applies to my--' He smothers a wince, John is certain of it, but rallies immediately. '--my young flatmate, here, absolutely.'

He stands before John can say anything else. 'Time to be off, yes?'

'Sherlock,' he starts a few minutes later, but they're halfway out the door and he knows he's being cowardly.

Sure enough, Sherlock waves it off. 'You're for pickup today, correct?' John nods. 'Good. I've that case, have to go make several witnesses cry.'

John hides a grin, in case his newly-pious daughter is paying attention. 'Try not to get arrested, yeah?'

'I make no promises,' Sherlock calls back as he heads off down the pavement.

---

'John,' Sherlock says that night, once he's changed clothes and washed the distinct aroma of back alley rubbish off himself while John put Rosie to bed. 'You could take a turn from your daughter about the apologising. Be a good example.' His voice is light, but careful. Only a little bit mocking.

John, who is standing in the kitchen making coffee and around whom Sherlock has just reached to avail himself of the biscuits, is certain he didn't hear correctly. 'I beg your pardon.'

'No, you don't.'

John stares at him, mouth a little open. 'This? Coming from you?'

'Who knows you better?'

'No, I mean-- You never apologise.'

'Implying you yourself are a model for showing regret?'

John can practically hear the 'zing' of the direct hit, and it irks him. 'Fine, I apologise for nothing!' He stops. 'No, that's not true, I apologise for some things. A few things. Several things. I apologise for about half of the things!'

'That doesn't even make sense, you realise.'

'Shut up.' He pulls Sherlock to him. 'Shut up, you absolute wanker.' He drags their mouths together for a surprisingly filthy kiss considering how tired they both ought to be.

John has a suspicion, though, and he breaks the kiss. 'What's this really about?'

'Don't know what you mean,' Sherlock says against the skin of John's jaw.

'Sherlock…' He swallows, considers pulling back but isn't sure he'd be able to get through this if eye contact is involved. 'You know she's yours, right?'

Sherlock stills, his cheek brushing John's, and John feels him close his eyes. 'John, you mustn't say things that aren't true.'

'Oh for--' John does pull back, then, pulling on the back of Sherlock's neck and keeping him in check so he can't escape. He waits until Sherlock's focused on his face, on his nose today. 'Here's the thing: You're right. Beyond, you know, the big-- Beyond what we've worked out in therapy, I'm shit at apologising. I'll work on it for Rosie, and for you. Starting with--' He takes a deep breath. 'I'm really bloody sorry I ever gave you the impression I didn't want you as Rosie's father.' He sees and feels Sherlock's sharp inhale. 'I just thought you knew that you already are.' 

'John.' The air leaves Sherlock's body in a stream, warm and damp on John's skin. 'You're serious?' he asks, doubt small but lingering in his voice. 

John clears his throat, breaking their gaze to look down at Sherlock's collar. 'I asked-- Well, the papers have been drawn up, and I owe your brother now which will only come back to bite us in the arse, but--' 

Sherlock's mouth captures his in a desperate kiss, and John finds himself held so tightly he actually feels his heels parting from the lino.

'Sherlock,' John manages when they break briefly for air.

'Sorry, right,' Sherlock says, very near sheepishly, and loosens his grip.

'Don't be sorry, just, you know.' He tilts his head to indicate the hallway. 'Come to bed with me?'

Sherlock's eyes darken with a combination of lust and merriment. 'Where I can do nefarious things to your banana?'

John groans, then turns away and starts down the hall. 'Oh God, dad jokes now? I have so many regrets.'

'No, you don't.'

John smirks and holds the bedroom door open. 'No, I really, really don't.'

[ <3 ]

[miloformula123fan]

Hi hi, hope ur doing well :), I'd really love a mark webber fic with either fem tattoo artist reader or heavily tattooed fem driver reader

ahahah thank you so much :)

apologies it took so long to get out

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

mark webber x fem!tattoo artist reader

---

“Mark, you don’t have to get anything. They just require an adult over 21 to come in with me for some reason, they require a legal adult there, that doesn’t have to be a parent. I think it’s so you don’t bail halfway through, and you are the closest, and I didn’t want to drag my parents out and…” Daniel pleaded to Mark. This was not Mark’s plan of how he wanted to spend the winter break.

“Fine! Damn it Daniel, you really are a piece of work sometimes. As long as I don’t have to get a tattoo, sure.” Mark conceded.

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

“Let’s go kiddo, before you make me regret it.” Daniel wasn’t a kid, not at all if he was going to race in f1 next year and get a tattoo this year. But compared to Mark, who still felt somewhat young, Daniel was a baby. So he took him to the tattoo place.

Mark would’ve been slightly worried that he was walking into an elite escort club if it weren’t for the fact that he had read every review of this place to make sure it was safe and triple checked that they were at the right location before they entered and he had asked every staff if they were in the right place. He’d asked the 3 people so far who had checked his ID, the 2 who had searched his bags, the 2 who had chatted to Daniel about design and the 2 that had chatted to him about his design until they realised he wasn’t getting one, and they had all confirmed that he was in the right place. And then finally, they had emerged into a room that looked like a tattoo and piercing studio. 

While the lighting seemed to be mostly based off of lamps, it was a relatively well lit building. The aesthetic was very dark and grungy, but the place was lit well enough that the piercers and tattoo artists could see what they were doing. The tattoo reclinable chairs were all black, Mark imagined so they didn’t have to be cleaned when patients bleed.

“Okay, hey Daniel, I’m your tattoo artist for today. There’s just a few final things I need to check on, and then we are ready to go! Hey, I’m Y/N, are you Daniel’s Dad?”

“Uhhhh, no. I’m just a friend who offered to come. I’m Mark.” Mark offered his hand and Y/N shook it politely. He took note of the bats and snakes that trailed up her right arm and was about to inspect them, before realising that this handshake had gone on for way too long and now appeared borderline creepy.

“Um…okay, are you getting a tattoo today?” Y/N asked, when Mark had finally let go of her arm

“No. Definitely not.” Mark shuddered at the thought.

“Okay, back to you then Daniel. Do you have a drink bottle, or at least some way of hydrating today?”

“Yeha, I have this water bottle.” Daniel held up a small crinkled plastic water bottle that Mark was sure was max half filled. He watched Y/N cringe at it.

“Do you have anything else? I know this is your first tattoo, so I don’t blame you for being a little underprepared but based on the tat we’re doing today, and how big it is, I think you’re gonna need more water so-” - Y/N

“I have some in my bag, just to be safe.” Mark smiled at Y/N who smiled back before turning back to Daniel. Mark pulled out the backpack he had brought and pulled out some snacks, 2 big water bottles, and a smaller one for himself.

“Eaten a big meal today? We’re gonna be here a while and have you put moisturiser on your thigh?” 

“Yeah, I ate a big meal for lunch with Mark, and there’s moisturiser on my thigh, although it may need a bit more.”

“Okay, I’ve got extra, don't worry about it. Have you shown Mark your design? Maybe take off your shorts, and then while I get the moisturiser you can show him your design.”

As Y/N wandered off, Mark watched as Daniel shimmied his shorts off before lying back on the chair and pulling a piece of paper from the backpack and turning it around.

Mark had to admit, it was a very pretty tattoo. He gasped as he looked at it, and if another artist had turned round to him then and there he would’ve immediately agreed to have a tattoo done. The art was stunning and Mark agreed that while the tattoo would take a while, the concept drawing would’ve taken even longer.

It was a lighthouse and a ship, with ‘no regrets’ in a banner on top and ‘only memories’ in a banner on the bottom. The ship and lighthouse were very intricate and Mark could almost see every pen stroke that had been put on the piece of paper. As he studied it, he heard Y/N come back and pop the bottle of the moisturiser, and start murmuring to Daniel about pens and needles and colouring. Finally he heard the 2 laugh and looked up from studying the artistry.

“Sorry Mark. I do need the design to uhh tat Daniel up here and so I do need the design. Now Daniel, have you had any ibuprofen, alcohol, coffee or fish oil in the last 48 hours? These things tend to be blood thinners, and I really don’t want you bleeding out on my floor. It’s also more painful for you, as you’re going to end up with more skin irritation, which is not fun.”

“Why are you doing such a big and intricate tattoo to start with? Surely most people start with smaller tattoos.” Mark curiously asked

“Yeah but I figured if I get one big one, I’ll only ever get one so it’s fine.” Daniel said sheepishly

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that kiddo. That’s what I thought, and now look at me. I personally like my smaller tattoos better, but it’s all personal preference.” Y/N smirked before she grabbed the needle and began the long process.

Mark tried to watch with interest, wanting to absorb everything Y/N was doing. But he ended up having to turn away as Daniel got a needle stabbed into him multiple times.

“Why’d you bring a squeamish one, Danny?” Y/N laughed from seeing Mark’s reactions

“Haha, I didn’t know. Maybe you should give him a tattoo, see how he reacts?” 

“No. No tattoo.” Mark chanted as he stared up at the ceiling, hands clenched into fists on his legs.

“How about a piercing? It can just be in your ear, you won’t even see the needle, and it’ll be painless, mostly. A lot less pain than this tattoo, hey Danny?” 

“Yeah, come on Mark! I did my ears when I was 13. Very painless, at least compared to this.”

“Fine. When are you gonna do it?” Mark conceded, done with their antics and persuasion.

“Probably in about an hour, when Daniel needs a break from this tat. Do you want me to do it, or would you prefer someone else to do it, like Jayden, or Alex or Leo? They’re all specialist piercers, as opposed to me, who’s technically a specialist tattoo artist. I can pierce your ear, obviously, but if you’d rather someone who’s probably a bit better, and if you just want to get it over and done with, then you can do someone else!”

“Uhhh, no, no. I’d rather you’d do it, if that’s okay?” Mark shuffled awkwardly, unsure.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, that’s fine. I may get Leo to just talk you through everything, cause I can’t multitask, and he’ll take your notes on preferences. LEO! Get over here.” - Y/N

Mark ended up getting quizzed by a man with more piercings and tattoos than Mark could care to count. He quizzed him on piercing placement, what earrings he wanted in and the care required afterwards, until finally Daniel asked for a break.

“Alright, all good by me. I’ll get Jayden to grab you some food and some drink to get you through while I…” she spun around to face Mark “pierce Mark’s ears.”

Mark gulped. He was certain that this was a bad idea.

And yet Y/N was so soft with him. She sanitised his ears, and put numbing cream on it. She talked him through everything and what she was doing, and the actual piercing of the ears was unnoticeable. Because she was talking the entire time, about motorsport and any random things she could think of. Mark was happy and content, at least until she pulled back and turned back to Daniel.

“Are you ready to resume, Daniel?” - Y/N

“What happened to you piercing my ears?” - Mark

“Mark…I have pierced your ears. You’re all done.” - Y/N

“What?” Mark put his hands up to his ears and felt the small pieces of metal stuck in his ears.  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even feel it.” - Mark

“Good, you’ll start feeling it soon, don’t worry, particularly the more weight.” - Y/N smiled before turning back to Daniel’s thigh and kept going with his tattoo.

Mark smiled and watched as her hands delicately worked on Daniel’s skin. The tattoo looked even better than it did from her sketches. He tried to not be too creepy but he loved watching the planets on her fingers crinkle while she concentrated. She brushed some hair out of her face and Mark was drawn to the bee behind her ear, looking ready to buzz away.

Way too soon Daniel's tattoo was finished and they had to leave. Mark did give Y/N his number and they started talking, as Mark begged her to come to a race. She came for Daniel’s F1 debut race down in Melbourne and kept texting Mark throughout, asking what certain terms she heard thrown around were.

---

BONUS SCENE

“Nice earrings Mark, when’d you get them?” Seb asked as they met before pre-season testing.

“Oh over the winter break you know?” Mark grinned, determined to not spoil his secret of Y/N

“Nice, you planning a tattoo next?” Seb grinned. He could always tell when Mark had a secret.

“Ha, nope. Just taking Daniel on more expeditions.” Mark said ‘i hope’ he added in his head

“More piercings then?” Seb grinned mischievously.

“Ha, maybe, maybe seb, maybe.” He smiled thinking about getting more piercings, letting Y/N touch his body with her surprisingly soft hands, maybe he’d get a piercing in a more intimate spot next time.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206 @tallrock35 @janeholt3

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 21 Shade

(You can all blame @voidsentprinces and one of their posts for inspiring this one cuz I sure as heck am. Spoilers through Dawntrail.)

-

In the colorful forests of Kozama’uka, a strange movement of light green catches my eye. For a moment, I imagine.

“This one finds this forest so lively! Will these ones feast soon with the bright feathered ones again?”

It was a trick of the light on banana leaves. The shade of our little courageous one is gone again.

-

We’re still in Kozama’uka, but the roar of the waterfalls is below instead of above, and we’re trying to reach out to the bandits harassing the Potsworn.

I think of a boy with gold hair and an eager smile, no longer wearing blue. “You gave me a second chance, and I’ve never regretted it. We’ll find a way to help them, too!”

I blink, and realize the only resemblance in the bandit before me is that he’s young and blond. The shade of our foolishly brave boy is gone again.

-

I cross the bridge to Shaaloani, with its hot, dry plains rolling into the distance, eventually leading to grasslands in the northeast and craggy hills in the west, toward what was Yyasulani.

A Landsguard officer speaks an order, but in familiar tones, a comrade to his men. His voice stirs a memory, and my mind wanders again.

“We’re a long away from Quarrymill, but this reminds me in some ways of home. I bet you still hear thanks enough whenever you go back.”

I look at the soldiers laughing with each other before dispersing to their duties. The shade of our revolutionary captain is gone again.

-

The sky always seems so close in Worlar’s Echo. The Yok Huy see a few more traders these days. I’m watching the moon cross the sky when someone lights a pipe, the smoke wafting past my nose. Comfortable as I am, I’m halfway to dreaming already.

“Foolishness. We know what it is now, hardly deserving the veneration bestowed upon it for so long. And you surely have better things to do than mourn the likes of me.”

I turn to protest, but now I am fully awake and see the pelupelu merchants smoking and haggling. The shade of our spiteful witch is gone again.

-

There’s a sense of responsibility to the people afflicted with levin sickness, especially the children. I make sure that Oblivion is getting the families everything they need. I visit the first boy we met with this illness, and offer a treat of real fruit juice from the farms. It’s a good day, and he smiles as he sips, his mother smiling through her tears as he manages the straw.

“You learn to take what moments of happiness you can get. You figured out how to help the light afflicted and the tempered; this too will be defeated in time. But find the little victories where you can meanwhile.”

I look up from the boy’s bed. It’s just him, his mother, and me in the room. The shade of our fierce carer is gone again.

-

I’m still awake in the pre-dawn hours, so take a mug of mate with me to the end of the boardwalk to watch the dawn. The endless blue of the water, with the light piercing into my eyes, makes me remember a similar sight at the end and start of everything.

“There is no true challenge in this land. ‘Tis a wonder you are not bored. But you always have found meaning and pleasure in people and their small matters.”

The sun continues rising and the city wakes. The shade of my antagonistic mirror is gone again.

I finish my mate, return to my cabin, and go to bed.

-

They come and go, these ghostly memories. Some not as much as they used to, since that journey into the aetherial sea. Perhaps their aid and that last chance to say goodbye made a difference.

Maybe I am simply sentimental.

“The burden of heroes and leaders,” one of my newer ones says. “We spend all our time fighting for their lives and happiness, and feel it keenly when we fail them. Yet they helped to shape us, and so stay with us. And we strive to do better by those who come after them.”

I look up, but the shade of that heroic father is gone, the echo of his boisterous laugh ringing through his city’s streets, in his daughter’s own laughter. She waves to me now, her brother, her nephew, and our comrades with her. They are all exuberant and bright and alive, with so much possibility ahead.

I laugh as I wave to my friends.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, Act 3 part 21

Synopsis: the ending

Previous Part

Part 21: the ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well it looks as if the tables have turned." Reagan strode in sporting a large belly. A smile broke on my lips as Althea pulled a chair beside me for the pregnant mother.

"And why's that?" I returned. "Because my babies are in a crib and not my stomach?"

She laughed. Her hair moved in a way that made her look young again. I could still remember the day she first opened up to me on the beach. "'Course not. It's because once up a time, a long long time ago—" I lightly shoved her for the extreme dramatization, "I was sitting in that chair in a nervous wreck. And now it's your turn."

"Just as it'll be your turn to push out a little devil until your eyes pop out."

"So unnecessary," Althea heaved a sigh as she passed behind us. Arleen replaced her with a shallow box of different brushes and makeup.

"This is nothing compared to what I've had to do," I continued on with Reagan.

"Ah but you were prepared and used to it," she argued. "You're not prepared nor used to Alastor being a gentleman."

"Oh he's learned a lot," my voice took a higher pitch. Arleen lifted my chin up and started dabbing on a touch of makeup. "After all, he did manage to actually kneel to me when he proposed."

"And he's actually going through with the wedding," Althea commented from her corner of the room. "Man hasn't run off with his deer tail tucked between his legs."

I tried to keep my head steady as I laughed. "Don't let him catch you saying that."

"Everyone will know by the time they see your girls running about," Arleen said. "After all, one of them has his tail. People will gossip about the possibility."

Arleen finished the basic makeup I had asked for then helped me into my dress. The torso of the dress was black and faded into a grey halfway down. The ends of the dress turned a bright white but were covered by red and black etches. They were mostly flowers but Arleen had snuck in several of Alastor's symbols, my own, and the family crest.

Althea tightened the straps behind my back then clipped the embroidery on top. While she fixed any folds or creases, Arleen gave me a box of jewelry. I held it open as she withdrew silver clasps and strands to hang on my horns. Reagan pulled out the family crest and settled it over my chest. Not too long ago would she have scoffed at the idea of me wearing a crest that included Alastor's in some way.

"Stunning," Althea said as she came around the front to look at me.

"You think so?" I turned to look in the tall mirror. I genuinely liked the way I looked. It wasn't often that I dressed up. My mood shifted as I looked at Althea who held a sad, knowing look. "Do you think they would've liked it?"

Vilcin and Vivian remained with me, their souls revealing their memories and asking me to keep them with me. I couldn't exactly speak to them but there was a type of silent communication every now and then. If they were condemned for simply being born a Demon, I would hold on to them as long as possible. Part of me believed they were content to watch over my mind and the long life that lay ahead of me.

"Magic is strange. I have a feeling they're watching us at this very moment," Althea answered.

I swallowed the grief that had risen and looked at myself in the mirror. I took a slow, deep breath as the cracked clock ticked away on the nightstand. We were in Arleen's store, thankful that only half of it had succumbed to the battle.

For the past six months, those who remained in the city worked tirelessly to rebuild their home block by block. We lost about 3/4 of our population in the battle and about half of the remaining left the city, some disappearing through the gates of Hell but most deciding their fate was more secured in a different city. I couldn't blame any of them but I was grateful to those who stayed.

Althea opened the door to let Charlie and Vaggie in. The princess of Hell and her partner held my daughters in bundles of deep velvet. Their flat noses scrunched at the smell of perfume and other scents lingering in the air. I leaned down to place a soft kiss on each of their foreheads. So far, the tiny one wasn't showing any signs of weakness. Althea told me she would likely grow up as normal as her twin.

"Are you ready?" Charlie was practically radiating sunshine in my face.

"I suppose," I replied. I had never been ready for much in my life but still managed to deal and cope with it relatively fine.

Charlie gushed at her partner and the pair excitedly left the store, on their way to let my soon-to-be husband know I was ready. I knew Al had never been interested in weddings but perhaps with the loss of our connection, he found it fulfilling.

It had taken a week after the battle to finally talk to Alastor. I had dug a new cave deep in the earth and cut myself off from the rest of the world. Every time I stood with him, the silence in my mind only reminded me of the pain and loss of our connection. On top of that, I was deathly afraid that another Angel would come down to kill my daughters. So the twins never left my sight in the past few months leading up to this day.

Even now, having them in Charlie's care made me incredibly anxious on top of everything. A lot of stories had bad things happen on a wedding day. Surely I had suffered enough?

"Take a deep breath," Reagan said as she took my hands in hers. My black claws were a stark contrast to her pale human hands.

"I'm fine."

All three women gave me a look. It made me smile and I forcefully took a deep breath. My healer and first friend gently leaned her head on my shoulder, wolf ears brushing my neck. I returned the sentiment then finally faced the direction of the door. I felt my stomach drop with my smile.

"You have nothing to be afraid of. This is an exciting day," Reagan tried reassuringly.

"This is stupid," I said.

"What is?" Althea stepped into view.

"Me. I shouldn't...I'm the one who wanted this but I...I don't...I shouldn't be like this." My thoughts jumped to the girls, the very proof of my relationship with Alastor. And yet I was terrified to marry him?

"Everyone gets nervous," Arleen said matter-of-factly. "It doesn't mean you don't love him. And goodness knows everyone has been waiting for this day."

"What?" I turned to look at my seamstress.

Her beautiful butterfly wings fluttered. "Everyone knew you were soulmates but we've been waiting for you two to actually have a wedding. It's what most people do and...well, to be frank with just you, we've all been rooting for your relationship to be strong enough to get married."

"You...you've been waiting for this?" I looked at Althea.

"Everyone was at least a little interested in your relationship. Especially since you and Alastor are the guardians and he's...well, he's the Radio Demon. People like to talk."

"People have been rooting for you," Reagan added.

I couldn't believe that people had actually been interested in my relationship, let alone hoping that it would turn out well. On top of that, they wanted us to actually hold a ceremony.

No wonder there's so many people, I thought to myself as I finally stepped out of the store. Everyone had paused reconstruction on the city to watch, just as they had done for Reagan. Only this time it felt like there was a hideous more amount of eyes.

Everyone I passed smiled and whispered a word of congratulations. The children hiding behind their parents' legs were staying wide eyed and mouth agape. I kept my face as neutral as possible while my stomach flipped repeatedly.

My footclaws tapped the uneven stone and my friends and adopted daughter held the end of the gown high enough so it didn't tear. My claws held onto each other as we made our way up towards the house. The ceremony was being held in the backyard on the very edge of the cliff. I couldn't see anything yet since we were crossing the fielding directly in front of the house. It gave me enough time to count my breaths into steady, even ones.

The cool, autumn air felt refreshing in my lungs. The earth was damp and cold under my feet but it was the most relieving, most grounding feeling. The smell of ash, smoke, and misery had finally faded away, replaced by the juvenile feeling of the turning of the seasons.

As we drew closer, I could hear the quiet murmur of people and the faint sound of a radio playing the familiar song of Nat King Cole's (I love you) For Sentimental Reasons. Of course Alastor picked that one. It was the same song we had danced to, the first song I had broken out of my shell and truly danced with him. He likely picked it in an effort to calm any nerves we might have shared.

A pathway of stones had been placed in the grass leading around the side of the house. I took a moment by the porch to take another slow breath. I had walked Reagan down the aisle but I would walk alone.

My story might be filled with sadness, bitterness, death, abandonment, suffering, and events I wish I could erase, but it was also a story filled with victory, resilience, lessons, friends, and finding peace in the chaos of what I called me. But importantly, it was filled with love. Love for my friends, for my family, for my daughters, and for my partner in life.

I took a step on the first stone. Then the next. Until I was on soft, autumn grass in between two crowds of those Alastor and I both held dear to our hearts--though most of them were from me. Althea, Reagan, and Arleen had let go of the dress and moved to stand in their positions. At the end of the aisle stood Lucifer dressed in a black suit. Standing adjacent to him was Alastor.

Both of us were stuck in place with our mouths slightly agape. A ripple of laughter quietly spread through the crowd.

Alastor wore an all black suit with red flowers and gold stems weaving all throughout the surface of the coat. Even the shirt underneath was black, topped with his usual red bow tie. His antlers had sprouted higher and were adorned with beautiful gold chains just as my horns had been. They swayed with ever small move of his head. His ears remained untouched and were sticking straight up as his eyes--glowing a soft, beautiful red--took in my appearance. Was that a blush I was seeing or just the setting sun?

I regained control of my limbs as I finished walking down the aisle. Charlie and Vaggie were at the front with the twins, with an eager Rosie beside them. When she heard the news of both the twins' birth and the wedding, she practically killed both Al and I in a loving hug. She matched, if not exceeded, Charlie's bright enthusiasm.

I reached out my hand to Nym and Thatcher who were patiently standing with the rest of the crowd. They let me squeeze their hand before walking up to stand beside Alastor. His soft, genuine smile paired perfectly with his half lidded eyes in a look of adoration. My eyes wanted to continue scanning his broad chest but that would be for later.

Instead, I finally turned to look at Lucifer. Despite any hatred the two shared, they agreed to stuff it down in spirit of the wedding. Lucifer, the King of Hell, was more than happy to officiate a wedding on my behalf.

Lucifer opened a book. He spoke our name as he looked at each of us individually. "I bid you look into each other's eyes."

We turned to face each other. Alastor held up his hand and I took it, enjoying the feeling of his large claws wrapping securely around mine.

"Will you honor and respect one another, and seek to never break that honor?"

"We will," we said in union.

Lucifer revealed a beautiful rope tied with reds, blacks, and purples, topped with an intricately spun weave on the top that matched our family crest. He placed it atop our folded hands and lifted one end over it, lightly keeping our hands together.

"And so the first binding is made," Lucifer continued. "Will you share each other's pain and seek to ease it?"

"We will."

Lucifer draped the second cord over our hands.

"And so the binding is made. Will you share the burdens of each so that your souls may grow in this union?"

"We will."

Lucifer draped the third cord over our hands.

"And so the binding is made. Will you share each other's laughter, and look for the brightness in life and the positive in each other?"

"We will."

Lucifer draped the fourth cord over our hands.

"And so the final binding is made." He looked to each of us again as he spelled out our full names. "As your hands are bound together now, so your lives and souls are joined in union and trust. Above you are the stars and Heaven, and below is the earth and Hell. Like the stars, your love should be a constant source of light, and like the earth a firm foundation to grow further."

My heart was beating in my ears.

"Do we have a deal?" Alastor proposed. My heart skipped a beat, the flash of instinctual fear abating, as if the magic in his eyes were chasing it away.

My smile finally cracked. "Deal."

A mix of green, purple, and gold sprouted from our clasped hands. The magic surged through my veins, filling me with so much energy it felt like ecstasy. Alastor's eyes reflected the colors before he pulled my hand and captured my mouth in a kiss. I tightened my grip on his hand as I leaned into the kiss, my back arching into his other arm and trusting him to hold me up. Cheers erupted in our ears but we were paying them no mind.

Alastor tilted his head further and slipped his tongue through my lips. I hummed in satisfaction as warmth filled not only my mouth but my body as a whole. I breathed against his smooth skin and placed my hand on the spot behind his jaw. I swallowed a whine as my tongue circled around his once before we pulled away.

For tonight.

I had thought it, but it sounded as if there was a twinge of Alastor's voice.

I looked down at our hands only to find the faint hue of a line between us. It was like a tiny piece of rope with a bright red, purple, and gold mixed together. It wasn't our bond but it was...something else.

"Take notice," Lucifer said, his voice reaching above the crowd to guide them into silence, "for we have unearthed new magic. While Heaven decides soulmates, Hell may create something new. These two souls are bound with the power of their shared deal and the power of my own hands. The King of Hell may sanction what he choses when it comes to his subjects." His smile, devilish in his own way, was almost like a smirk as he looked to Alastor. "Guess your idea wasn't half bad."

"It was your idea?" I questioned, letting Alastor pull me up. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. But you must remember, my love," he lifted our bound hands, "that you have decided to marry me. A man whose wit has lasted him nearly a thousand years and landed him the most beautiful bride possible."

Of course Alastor knew how to get around something. Of course Alastor would think of something to turn a bad situation into one he could benefit from. Of course he would test something on our wedding day. Of course he would find any possible way to make things right with me. And of course I fell for him.

He may not be Lucifer the Devil, but he could weave his way through the impossible just as Lucifer had done in his deal with Heaven.

"It may not be the same," Lucifer added, "but it's Hell's version of soulmates." He undid the rope and folded it neatly in his smooth black hands. I stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight embrace, finding his head above my shoulder. He had purposefully made himself taller for this event.

"Thank you, Lucifer," I whispered in his ear.

The devil didn't have anything to say, instead returning the hug until I managed to pull myself away. Alastor's hand found mine, bringing it up to kiss the back of it so my eyes would fall on him. The crowd clapped and cheered again as they followed us back along the path, across the field, and into a clearing in the middle of the ruined city.

Alastor stopped in the center of the clearing then lifted our hands in the sky. The rest of the civilians who awaited our return yelled their praise, whistling and shouting and clapping. I stared in awestruck as flowers fell from the sky and people gathered around to congratulate us. It was the first time I had seen Alastor allow anyone to be this close to him.

Live music struck up somewhere and tables of food and drinks were brought out. It was nothing near as fancy as Reagan's wedding had been but I was happy just to have such a celebration in my name. In our name.

Alastor never expressed anything past amusement or contentment. But today--oh, today--he was happy. His toothy smile was wide and full of joy. The music was more upbeat than I'd known him to dance to but he danced as if he had done this before, hand clasping mine and other one moving with the sway of my hips.

His legs moved quickly but I kept up, happiness running like adrenaline through my body. Everyone else danced along, jumping and swaying to the beat of the instruments we had saved. He pulled, twisted, and twirled me every which way. The jewelry on our horns magically remained untangled as we moved.

I was laughing the most I ever had in my whole life combined. My eyes looked nowhere else but his red ones. A long time ago, I would have felt trapped. Today, I felt safe. Through everything we had come out on top. We were bruised, bloodied, and traumatized, but we were on top.

Our stamina eventually wore out. We retired to a table set just for us and our closest family members. On my right sat Althea, Reagan, along with her husband Lucas, and Thatcher. To Alastor's left was Rosie, Husker, and Nym.

I caught Charlie's eye and asked for the twins. The little souls were placed in mine and Alastor's arms, allowing the Princess and her partner to enjoy a few dances themselves. I suspected that Vaggie may propose sometime soon.

I took a sip of cold water as I bounced the tiny twin in my arm. Both Nym and Thatcher enjoyed watching or helping with the girls when they weren't crying, so their eyes were happily focused on the tiny beings in our arms.

The twin in my arm had her father's trademark ears and my pointed fingers, the nails looking ready to become claws soon. She had dusty gray skin around her fingers and toes. I expected it to darken as she grew, matching the similar stain Alastor and I both bore.

Alastor leaned over to press a kiss to the side of my head. I looked at the second twin. She was growing and growing fast. Her flat nose seemed to always be sniffing the air, a trait surely from me, and she also sported Alastor's ears. They weren't as bright red as his but more of a mutilated color between his hair and mine.

I'm very happy.

There it was again. A voice that belonged to me but sounded like Alastor's. The connection was there--my mind no longer completely empty--but it was different. I had no idea what adventures would surface that would encourage us to explore it to its limits.

I leaned back into the chair and watched the party go on. Everyone had been stressed and pushed beyond exhausted to rebuild our city enough to inhabit the current population. This was a much needed break for them all. It was a celebration of Alastor and I but also of the home we protected. We had lived, faced Heaven head on, and would continue to do so for as long as we lived.

Which, who knew how long that would be?

All I knew was that if I had the opportunity to go back in time and chose a different path, I wouldn't take it. Despite everything that had happened, I would do it all again if I could sit beside Alastor, our daughters in our arms, and our family dancing around us.

I would never give that up.

Yeah, it was all worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

And so, the glorious adventure has come to an end. Expect announcements by tomorrow <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @martinys-world @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall @feral-fox-crypt

[artofchira]

Chira can you share all your Hamlet thoughts/feelings/hot takes/headcanons because it's also my favourite and I love hearing what people have to say about it. It's one of the things I can't shut up about. Could talk for hours!!!!!

Here I will copy/paste straight out of discord the last time I went off about my opinions on Hamlet to a friend:

I have no idea how Hamlet makes sense to people if he wasn't young (16-17, 21 tops), because everything he's about is this kid who is incredibly overwhelmed with the knowledge that his father has been murdered but he also has literally fucking no one to grieve that with, because he can't trust anyone. And it's not as simple as accusing his uncle, no one would believe it, least of all his mother.

So of course he gets it in his head that the only real vindication and closure he can get is to somehow force people to see the truth for themselves and believe it as a way of finding some kind of freedom from his burden. And he's a little too smart for his own good because he manages to get by with being completely irony poisoned and making sure no one gets a clear read on him, but at the same time he gets so irony poisoned that people either credit him with being a 9D chess master or losing insincerity to himself.

like, I remember early on that love letter he sends Ophelia that everyone remembers -- Doubt that the stars are fire, etc etc

That one.

Out of context it sounds extremely romantic, but in context the scene is Ophelia's dad is reading out the entirety of Hamlet's letter to Ophelia to his uncle and like half the court, and they're all bagging on him for being so bad at poetry. And hell Hamlet drops the rhapsodizing halfway through the letter to go "yeah yeah I know I'm bad at it but don't think for a second I don't love you all right? you're the most important person to me"

and if I remember correctly he slips in a line where's like, no matter what happens don't ever think I don't

So later on when Ophelia's dead and Hamlet's told about it and all his friends are like "come on why are you pretending you care, you were never there and you bullied her" and Hamlet loses his shit in this big monologue about how he loved her with the strength of a thousand suns and whatnot

But by then it's supposed to be like, who are you trying to convince, them or yourself?

And I think that on its own is pretty dense interpretation, but I personally would go so far to say leaving it there still assumes that Hamlet was insincere to begin with, or lost his sincerity because people look back on that letter to Ophelia like

he was writing it to Ophelia

so her dad would read it

so then his uncle would hear it

and they'd all believe some other bait trap on how to fool them

like some master chess move

when, like, no one actually considers the more obvious option:

That he was perfectly sincere in that letter, that he not at all expected Ophelia to give it to her father, and that he actually was just that bad at poetry (not fake being bad, actually bad) and trying to tell her to trust him through what's gonna be a real rough time and to not believe what he says to her when he's acting all weird to people

Which makes Ophelia failing to trust him and kill herself even sadder because Hamlet's rage monologue in response to it would kind of then look more like... Count of Monte Cristo's moment of realizing he fucking went too far and 'what have I done' thing in chasing his ambitions

Like, it involved a casualty of someone who wasn't supposed to be in the crossfire, but furthermore it happens to be the girl he adores and he's the one that kind of gaslit her into it.

That's more of a kid that's way in over his head and realized he fucked up, and makes more emotional sense than some guy trying to act like a whacky mastermind to me

that's basically it. Everyone looks at that letter being like "aha he was fake being bad at poetry to make everyone just think he's a morose teen with a crush" kind of thing but like…. being a teen with a crush is what he would be

I don't understand people treating hamlet like he doesn't have emotional consequences for himself instead of just being a depressive vengeance obsessive teenager spiralling out of control

that he's trying for something and fucking failing at it despite how smart he is at it

because he's a kid who feels alone and can't trust anyone with why he feels alone, and this is the best way he knows to get people to actually understand what he's dealing with

since everyone's like "what's wrong hamlet!!!" acting really worried and fussy over him being depressed and he won't fucking say

it just makes like… more reasonable sense as a human person to view it that way honestly, at least to me personally

[wexhappyxfew]

how old are the silver bullets girls?

HI ANONNNNNN! please know my reaction to this immediately went a little like this:

me as i’m about to start rambling about the girls and their ages because these little things bring me so much joy and i am so happy you asked this (truly….always open to questions like this about the Silver Bullets girls i’m more than happy to provide commentary!!!)

-> these are all their ages in 1943 <-

Annie: 23, second oldest in her family, oldest girl in her siblings so automatically always seems to take on the older-mentor role with people. why she fits the role of command pilot so well.

Francis: 22, had to grow up quite fast in her childhood so she feels a little older than she actually is at 22, but is one of the most mature people on base.

Bessie: 24, she graduated from Barnard College in New York City before joining up in the war effort and here she is!

Carrie: 22, was halfway through college when she joined the war effort and has intents of finishing. that or flying planes still, but she fits that mix of adulthood but still youthful.

Kennedy: 22, similar to carrie with her vibes of entering adulthood but still withholding youthful tendencies. came from quite a wealthy background too so sometimes she feels she had to grow up too fast.

Vivian: 24, same as bessie, both who are the current oldest of the crew! people thinks she always very maternal and one of the wisest people they can go to. a lot of life stories and experiences too that people find comfort in :)

Judy: 21, the youngest of the group!!!!! people really see her as their little sister, and she’s usually a little bit more naive and youthful. very hopeful and usually one of the happiest crew members. but she still feels innocent and like there’s so much experience left for her to see in the world. people are always looking out for her.

Marianne: 22, one of the girls who is in that same age of being an adult but still feeling young — sometimes wonders what she’d be doing if she wasn’t here but she does a lot of future-thinking for herself and that usually makes her feel older than she normally is.

Margie: 23, a ball of sunshine, sometimes judy and her are two peas in a pod and then she’s best friends with kennedy who is a storm cloud and she’s the sunshine and it all makes sense. friend to all, always cheering people up. usually needs some cheering up herself.

Paulina: 22, only just turned 22 by this time, so she still feels like she can say she’s one of the youngest alongside judy. young at heart, carefree, and always a shoulder to lean on. she’s got your back more than anything, and a ruthlessly loyal to her folks and her crew.

Birdie (since passed): was 25, previous command pilot for Silver Bullets before she was KIA. was like that protective, maternal older sister to the crew. always would provide advice and stories and back up her girls. one of the best there was!

[leqclerc]

Deep down I would still really love seeing charles winning in ferrari instead of changing teams, but it doesn't feel like there's any hope honestly.

like, before was "next year is our year" but now even next year already seems doomed

https://twitter.com/FUnoAT/status/1667556319463702533?t=W3fsCNE2itVZqVKqw1AGbg&s=19

Oh no gang 🤐 I remember seeing a tweet or something saying June is likely going to be crunch time at Ferrari when it comes to preparation for 2024. I know Fred's been trying to poach staff where he can, especially engineers, and I know some of them have been released/are due to finish their gardening period soon, but there have also been setbacks, and ultimately I don't think he ended up getting the guys he was after, certainly not all of them. I'm really hoping next year's project is a step in the right direction, but there's no denying they're in a difficult place right now so it could really go either way. With how strong (and most importantly stable) Red Bull's situation looks, with Aston's facilities and upgrade packages, and with Mercedes seemingly starting to steer the ship in the right direction once again, Ferrari are definitely on the back foot.

Also, being in the middle of a little nostalgia fest right now and looking back at content from 2019, particularly the interviews and longer feature docus centered around Charles... a lot of the magic of the time stemmed from the fact that he was so young and on the rise. I mean, his second year in F1 overall and his debut season in Ferrari and he already showed so much promise and talent and determination. I think he was really this injection of new youthful energy into the team, into the Tifosi as a whole (even Seb called this "new beginning" with Charles joining the team one of the best moments of his Ferrari career, which is huge). Up to that point Ferrari had generally banked on established drivers, often champions. And here's a young hotshot who doesn't yet know the taste of winning and has this fervent desire to experience it in red. He had a clear goal in sight and he pursued it relentlessly, even if it meant getting caught up in questionable on-track situations. There was maybe a bit of naivety in that, but also a lot of boldness and tenacity that can only come from being young and wanting to prove yourself. Add to that a dash of his penchant for self-criticism, and you can totally see why the world was so swept up in the rookie Ferrari driver's story, why he became the main subject of character study fics at the time. It was fascinating. Like, sometimes, more than anything, I would just love to be able to go back and experience all of that again, just live in that brief moment in time when it really seemed like the only way is up and things can only get better.

But now we're halfway through 2023. 2019 was, somehow, unbelievably, already four years ago. And the story that was supposed to be filled with success and victories has been marred by misfortune and subpar machinery. Now he's no longer a 21-year old sensation winning in Monza, but just another title-less driver in their 20s trying to do the best with what they've got. His career has pretty much stalled and he's being increasingly criticized more than he's being praised (not that he escaped criticism in 2019-20, far from it, but there's a little bit of leniency to be found when someone's young and starting out, or when they can respond to this criticism with a win because the facilities are there). From being called the "Vettel Slayer" or whatever, to being ranked on par with or even below Carlos. What was once an engrossing clash of young generational talents (Silverstone 2019, anyone?) has become a completely unfair, skewed comparison that is ultimately used to portray Charles in a negative light. So the whole thing has lost its shine a bit, and what started out as a journey full of hope and potential is now increasingly turning into a drawn-out tragicomedy.

And obviously the disappointing, frustrating thing is that it's largely down to circumstance and whatever the hell is going on internally within that team that's preventing them from performing at their best. The stats are bleak, and it's so frustrating to know that the results table on Wikipedia or any other site aren't a genuine reflection of his talent and abilities, but they're ultimately what people remember and choose to base their perception of a driver on. Objectively he's still young and he can still go far, but equally, this sport can be ruthless and cruel and success is hard to reach if the stars don't align. Statistically speaking, he's got about ten years left in his career as a full-time driver, give or take. Fernando's more of an exception than the rule, and there's even less Lewises out there (having his most successful run in his 30s, so in the back half of his career.) Then again, even if the Mercedes stint had completely not worked out for him, he still wouldn't be going home empty-handed, because he was already crowned champion once before he joined. I think that frees you up, mentally and otherwise, to focus on other pursuits. Crossing that threshold and getting your first championship is always the hardest step. The thought of Charles never finding out what that feels like and being left to wonder what could have been is really hard to take. :/

[rabble-dabble]

its anger until they learn its a father. "men are like that," she told me, when he's still sleeping his blackout from last night off and she's been awake since six that morning. "they never admit to their feelings."

i've learned all the bad things to look out for. they gaslight reality into their version of things, strangers on the internet say, until the memory becomes true and the victim doubts their own sanity. i can't remember who started the arguement but somehow, i'm always wrong. i thought, maybe, i was just too immature to understand, too young to get why he was so cruel to me. you and your generation are so sensitive, he told me over and over again. you're so sensitive, it was just a joke. i cried in his arms when i reported my mom to cps, scared of her reaction, scared she'd come after me despite living thousands of miles away. the joke was me acting like my mom. you need help, he told me - the same man who screamed in my face with booze breath about how maybe i deserved what i got. maybe i deserved what i got - the same man who held me at birth and told me about my big bright eyes - and i am the reason i am so broken. get help, yells the same man who told me he went to therapy and got 'fixed'. i have been in therapy for six months.

my therapist tells me to move on - i should clarify, she's actually a counsler, a kind woman who i see every two weeks. "what do you want from this relationship?" she asks me. "my brother and i, we used to be at each others throats, and then when we got older-" i listen to how she found peace with her siblings. she doesn't mention her parents. i think about my brother, who got the worst of the abuse, and how we haven't talked in a while. "i want an apology, i want a sorry, i want a father," i tell her, crying as i remember my dad screaming at me. "it doesn't sound like he's the type of person who will give that to you," she responded.

we talk about expectations vs. reality. is this my fate? is this my world, to never expect recogniztion for what happened to me? "you need to let it go, it happened over six months ago," my aunt says. her husband won't put his food away before leaving to hunt. he leaves his trash on the counter, which she throws away as she shakes her head and throws another chore on her ever growing list of things to take care of. "i know your father. his behavior is in his namesake. you expect him to change, but he will never change." he is in his fourties. a grown man who is not even halfway through life; i turn 21 this year, and last year on my birthday he called me a bitch for not calling my mom while i was going to the movies with my best friend. i bought my own birthday cake, and he made me feel guilty for asking him to pick it up as if it was too much of a chore for him. he hadn't taken me to the dmv to get my license so i could legally start driving. "stop trying to change your father." change him? i am asking for the bare minimum. i am asking for a person who is supposed to love me to love me kindly. i asked him if we could get therapy together. he told me no.

my counsler said i was stuck between wanting a relationship and needing to move on. "you need to find peace." but i don't know if i will find the peace she means - every male figure i have seen has been given every reason not to try harder. my mother's boyfriend didn't look after his own kids, even when i had to leave school to wash my baby sister after she vomitted from a fever. my dad never brought in the groceries, just sat in a chair drinking mike's lemonade while he watched me and my stepmom and two stepsisters bring in the bags and put it all away. my aunt's husband made their dog have puppies recently- and my aunt is exhausted from taking care of them, despite not wanting them. what peace is there to find here? to find peace with how the world "works", with how these men will do anything to be incompetent to their partners? to their families? i am just angry. i don't want to find peace in these situations! these women deserve better. i deserve better. but i am told i can do nothing to change it- i am merely the child of a father. worse- i was born a daughter, a servant; a peacemaker. "i am angry!" i told my therapist. "it's not fair!"

"i know," she says. i cry and think about an apology i will never get. all men are- i have heard this over and over. i do not want to be the person who finds peace in this broken machine, in those broken words. i want to tear it all down, piece by piece, until there are no more 'all men are'. i want to be angry, i want to be vicious, to snarl back as i refuse to be another victim finding peace with this standard of incompetent men. they can do better, i scream to the machine, tearing at rusting metal with my hardened hands, hold them accountable, for the love of god, be angry!

if i'm to find peace i want to do it bloodsoaked. if i have to find peace with no remorse then i will do it with sharp claws and teeth, with gentle hands but an aware mind. i do not want to find peace with dull contempt, i want to find it with the knowledge i will not allow my life to be dictated by this low standard. my dad tells me you will never truly be a real man. i tell him with a smile, at least i won't be a man like you.

[septembersghost]

"#he's so young here he's only 21 it increases my protective instincts" and he's exactly halfway through his life, whenever I see him at that age I think about that and how unfair it all is.

you could've done so much more if you only had time...

and if i start sobbing in front of you for sending me this? i...there's a lot i want to say and i don't know how. he was so young and all the promise and all the talent is right there! it's so close we still feel like we can reach out and touch it. and what he achieved in those twenty-one years is phenomenal and singular in many ways, but it still wasn't what he wholly deserved, it still wasn't everything he should've gotten to find and do and create, it still wasn't enough time. it's like we've kept him here to keep returning that time and love to him.

i started reading djats this morning and this quote struck me painfully:

sometimes i think we're so captivated by that breathtaking beauty and by that transcendent talent in certain people that we try our best to love them whole again.

[catchingpapermoons]

27

just musings on aging and mental health and being alive.

content warnings for suicidal ideation, death, self-loathing.

as the days ticked down to my 20th birthday, i became acutely aware of the fact that i was still a living, breathing person.

i hadn’t thought about it much; i’d been surviving on empty for so long i hadn’t realized it was time for me to leave my teen years behind. for me, much like it was for everyone else in the world, being a teenager knocked me around like those inflatable tube guys that blow violently in the wind outside the most drab-looking car dealership.

i grew up a lot from 13 to 19. i was very different at 19 than i was when i entered high school, but an apt comparison of those girls would be that i was so deeply, achingly insecure of my personality, because i wasn’t really sure i had one at all. much of it came from other people because i wanted them to like me, because i wanted everyone to like me. i wanted to make myself fit in spaces i probably wouldn’t have fit in at all. i didn’t know how to rise above it. i wasn’t sure i wanted to rise above it. all i knew, with absolute certainty, was that everyone would find out that i was secretly a terrible, jealous, conniving, uppity cunt who no one would ever love.

i had long believed i wouldn’t make it to 20. unfailingly, i’d hoped, maybe even believed, that something would happen and i wouldn’t have to face the rest of my life. and as much as i had believed that, suddenly i had made it through two years of undergrad and i was marching headfirst toward my 20s. i even wrote something too, braving how uncomfortable i was in facing my emotions to tell my community of facebook friends, people i’d known since birth, since middle school, since high school, since i started college, that i was grateful to them for giving me a safe place to land when it felt like i’d been freefalling for years.

“as a very lonely freshman in high school, for some reason, reaching the age of 20 seemed impossible,” i said in my post. “i’m happy to be 20 today.”

and just as suddenly as i’d approached 20, i was 21 and falling in love, and i was 22 and falling out of it. 23 and finally feeling a sense of self after being (mostly) properly treated for my depression, and then the world shut down. 24, 25, and 26 came and went. and a constant in all those years was that i’d come to this realization, this understanding of myself, that there was something—something young, feral, and bright—that was hurt. not irreparably, not from one single blow, but taken altogether, there was something fragile that needed tending to, like the broken ankle i never let heal properly.

there was an instagram story prompt the other day that asked you to show yourself in the past six years. what was startling to me was, first, that i found six pictures from six different years within the 20 thousand something photos in my library. but the prevailing thought was, looking at the pictures side-by-side, that you could tell how unhappy i was at 22, 23, 24 even. how halfway through being 25 you could see how settled i had become, that at 26, about to graduate with a professional doctorate degree, despite the massive stress and anger and anxiety and imposter-syndrome-god-complex that every law student has, i looked happy.

there’s a lump in my throat just thinking about it.

because when i was 14, i couldn’t picture life past 20. i could barely see the 15th birthday light at the end of the freshman year tunnel. when i was 19, i was shocked to see 20 flying around the corner, and even more shocked that i wanted to keep aging. it’s a source of pride for me that i’d managed, despite everything trying to tear me to pieces, to make it that far, and even farther than that.

there were reasons, of course, that i would never have left. i knew even in the throes of my insurmountable incapacitation that i couldn’t ruin my family like that. maybe that’s narcissistic to say, but maybe it’s just true, that a lack of grace in the world would hurt people in a way that would never leave them. i’m still haunted by memories of people i knew—whether i knew them well or more peripherally—because they’re gone and i won’t be able to send them a follow request on instagram or run into them on the train on our morning commute  because they died too early. and some of these people weren’t even my friends, just friends of friends or boyfriends of friends or kids i passed in the hallway. i think about them still and the mark they left, and i couldn’t do that to my family or friends or people who feel like me about the people whose posts they “love” on facebook or whose tweets they like on twitter.

and now, as i’m typing this, i am two weeks away from 27. in the past 6 and a half years i’ve been so adrift. i’d been so certain of life not existing past 20 that i never thought to picture what it would look like. i graduated from university and didn’t have a plan, and i was traumatized from my last relationship and heartbreak. i had no immediate plans beyond “make enough money to pay for gas” after i’d completely bombed the GRE, and i didn’t know who i was beyond my illness. 

now, i’m getting ready to take this exam that will determine my future and i worry about passing because everyone worries about passing the bar, but i’ve made it 7 years past where i thought i would. and i want to make it 10, 20, 30 more years, and beyond that. i want to be 100 with a family of kids and grandkids and great-grandkids and i want to be hopeful about the world that we live in even when hope feels fruitless and when climate change feels catastrophic because even when i was my most depressed, my most helpless, the little hurt part of me still felt hope.

the thing in me that’s hurting is simultaneously more prevalent and less painful than it has been. i like to picture it like a child version of me. and some part of me is telling her, whether she’s 5 or 13 or 21, that she’s going to be okay. she might feel lonely, she might feel sad and scared and panicked, she might try—well-meaning and missing the mark often—to help those around her when they just need to be left alone, but that it’s okay to make those mistakes. it’s okay to believe the best in people until they’ve shown you otherwise. it’s okay to be kind and know that, for as many loud and awful people there are in the world, there are more people who just care about helping each other. and it’s okay to believe all those things. and it’s okay to be discouraged and disappointed.

but i’m going to turn 27 and i’m going to celebrate with friends who live near me and call my friends who live far away and i’m going to provide help when i’m asked to and support when it’s needed. and i like to believe that’s made at least one person’s life a little brighter. i’ve never liked my birthday much. i think i’m just excited to turn another year older and to just keep going.

reaching 30 doesn’t seem so impossible anymore. 

[wench-and-jezebel]

Dark Angel Reaction: C.R.E.A.M.

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)]

Brief aside for yet another stunning introductory conversation:

Jezebel: How many episodes are in season one? Wench: kjdsflkajs Like, 21 Jezebel: Season two? Wench: Also 21 Jezebel: And how many is Ackles in? Wench: Um… 21 - 3 + 1, so 19.  Ish. Jezebel: OK that’s good Wench: ??? Jezebel: I was like am I really gonna have to deal with this version of Max for that long and not even get my fill of Ackles Wench: askdjflkajdflkjadf The first Ackles ep is episode 17 of s1; you'll have a fix soon.  Jezebel: Yeah but he dies that’s… That’s like getting a fix but it’s laced with something that cancels the fix  before you really enjoyed it Wench: ... I'm adding this conversation to the post

There ya go; an insight into our bonkers mental states at the start of this episode

– – –

[Okay, I’m sorry, but this is the third of three non-pilot titles in a row that is an innuendo in one way or the other; was this intentional or did they just get reallyyyyy unlucky?  Or.  I guess.  Really lucky.  You never know.]

It’s the guy from water boy.  Not really but how he talked

Logan so mysterious

She looks like Ziva (Tony’s love interest in NCIS)

"Your.  Father.  WAS.  Disappeared." ??? Say it weirder why don't you

“So depressing”  Bitch

Oh find something that made it up your alley huh

ITS A TRAP!!! THATS PENNYWISE!!  RUNNNNN KIDS  [He comes up later, actually.]  TIM CURRY?  [No, Pennywise]  Lame  [LKA;LDSKFKL]  Tim Curry’s awesome 😂

Lintlicker the dancing clown

This opening end kills me. The fetus doing cartwheels in her eye is just… wot [alksjdflkajdsflkasjd I KNOW.  But it gets worse in s2]  Like it would have been edgier to have the young version

I LOVE HIS ACCENTTTTTT  [I wanna say his name is Herbal, btw]  Like the tea! Makes sense his voice is calming!

*sigh* how cliche

That Nintendo?  THATS NINTENDO!

Them and the damn bike tricks

I love her.  OC I mean.  (Then again the other her is Max so that should have been easy to understand)

Ewwww the trash water

Is that money?

Does NO ONE look up in this show?  Ever?  LIKE. she wasn’t even inconspicuous!  [NO THEY NEVER DO]

Matilda.  The scene where she’s under the table hiding

“What if I wanna hold it over here”  ☠️☠️ [Oh, look, she’s showing off again.]  Wot.  Ma’am's little speeches hurt my brain

☠️☠️☠️☠️"It looked like a girl"

SHIT I NEED TO DO THE ASK ABOUT NORMAL!  SORRY ANON!!!  I’LL DO IT SOON  (But at least I will have a little more to go off)

I thought he said the dad was hitting the bong and had a boyfriend

Iss me, oh my

[Not Logan offering her a way to seem slightly less blatantly transgenic/conspicuous by carrying a gun and her saying “Nah I wanna show off my asskicking powers instead.”]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️ Women! Lol

– – –

Midpoint (Kinda) Judgement (aka: this practice came about because we keep having to pause in the middle, and this time it was slightly before halfway through, but it counts enough ig): Ok, so this one doesn’t feel as Max heavy. But alas she’s still there and still got her new and improved (hah) attitude. Although it’s not as strong as last ep. BUT again this doesn’t seem as Max centric as the other three, so maybe that will change second half.  [Are you talking about the way there's a second plot with Sketch, OC, Herbal, et al?]  Yeah and then Logan looking for the girls father. Just seems everyone else has been on screen more and she pops in says something with attitude thens like gotta blaze gotta jet gotta fly. Gotta do whatever.  [That's gonna be pretty off-and-on common.  s2, for example, usually has two plotlines; Max-centric and other-centric.  A lot of the time, that's Alec's plotline, but sometimes it's Joshua or Sketchy or one of the others.  It's nice in some ways, iffy in others, but yeah]  Ahhhh! I see! Not complaining :) lol

– – –

Oh that was money!

bitch slappppeddd

I get those too I get it (ulcers).  (I don’t really.  Well, I might.  Idk)

Oh man

Looooool “bounce”.  That ones new

Poor Sketch (sarcasm cause he is kinda sleezy)  [You mean... sketchy? :)  But he gets a bit better]

How does he make those damn glasses look good.

I love her hairrrrrrr.  If she’s gonna be a bitch, why did she have to change the hair??? Gimme something Alba!  *sigh*

Le gasp!  Isn’t he the dead guy

He is!!!  Plot twissstttt

Ahh love.  It be doing thing to ya

Man you can’t see her

Don’t you know that’s how you get dead?  Has he not watched tv?

If she.  If.  She.  If she says one more thing that seems like a slap to his wheelchair boundness.  😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 "A girl who moves the furniture (cause you can’t)"

How did he abandon you, chick?  Y’all were estranged!  Do you know know what that means?

Girl/thought-dead father vs Max/red balloon.  Not the same

☠️  Letting that balloon go messed her up ☠️☠️  [LKJLKADSJF;LKASJDF;LKSAJDF; NOOOOOO!!!  I’m ded.  I’m.  Dead.  That’s it.  You killed me.]

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨  Looking like one of Charlie’s angels

Bimboooossss 🙂 damn being a girl comes in handy

“Cause I’m a super human.  I told you this last episode.  Not my fault you didn’t buy it.”

☠️☠️☠️☠️ “17 black, like me.”

☠️☠️☠️ Here we play for money  (You know he didn’t want to say that)

☠️☠️☠️☠️ YOU SHOULD THROW ONE OF YOUR TENS… YOU GOT TOO MANY

[The absolute wall of skulls here.]  …..☠️☠️☠️☠️

Dramatic card-playing

[... Gonna be honest... new ship unlocked]  I knowwww  [Just saying, Max/OC would also explain the latter’s tendency to view Max as amazing regardless of context.  She screwed with Logan’s brain too.] This is very true!

I TOLD YOU I WAS A SUPER HUMAN

POWER OF THE BOOB.! That money held up that whole fight

[Poor Sketchy is such a screw-up.  I forgot how bad s1!Sketch was, because s2!Sketch is at least vaguely competent.]  😂😂😂

Welp.  Here’s where either one or both die.  Or she kills him.

Huh.  Damn.  Called it

Oh boo boo hoo.

[Logan: *Angstily exercises*]

Sad death video

[“C.R.E.A.M., baby.  C.R.E.A.M.”  WHAT DID I SAY!??!?! THAT WAS FREAKING INTENTIONAL.]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

More talking in circles  [Simultaneously: She did the "or maybe not' thing agai- askdjf;lkajdf Same brain cell :)]  *sigh*

Aight done and done!

[thalialunacy]

[for @calaisreno's May prompt challenge, which is thusfar h*ckin fun]

(1) 2: box (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Where are you? John texts, paused in the main doorway of the-- empty-- flat.

He's not worried… yet. Sherlock is a cock, yes, but he's been good with Rosie, really good. Surprisingly good. So good John's stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mostly.

Hi John, this is Molly on Sherlock's phone

'Oh, fantastic,' John mutters as he hangs up his coat.

Who's injured? he shoots back as soon as his fingers allow.

Or, oh God--

Don't tell me he's in jail.

He's not in jail.

Somehow, this is not reassuring. He dispenses with clumsy fingers and hits the Call button instead.

The sounds of A & E snap into his ear and he stills. Then he reaches right back out for his coat. 'Where?'

Molly hesitates. 'I don't think-- I mean, it's all right, I'll have them home in a jiff. It's just a small fracture--'

'Molly,' he grinds out, pounding down the stairs. 'She's my daughter, tell me where she is.'

'Oh!' she says quickly. 'No, Rosie's fine! Completely fine! He'd never let anything-- John, don't be silly-- He'd rather break his own wrist than--' She falters. 'Well. I should probably let him tell you himself, but Rosie is fine. Sherlock is fine, in fact, or very nearly. They were just having a bit of fun.'

John suddenly looks around where he's landed, at the bottom of the stairs with one hand on the front door. There is a suspicious lack of hallway furniture-- Mrs Hudson's table and vase are nowhere to be seen, her umbrella stand empty and shoved back by the door to 221C-- and there is the strange addition of a very large, slightly rumpled cardboard box.

'What the actual f--'

There's fumbling noises on the other end, then Sherlock's voice, sounding only the slightest bit defensive. 'It only took a few iterations to find that the newest boxes work the best.'

'The newest boxes,' John repeats, knowing he heard what he thinks he just heard but wanting like hell to believe otherwise.

'Worked best, yes, do keep up. It was hardly a rigorous study, circumstances being--'

'Sherlock.' John pinches the bridge of his nose, counting to ten in Very Loud Internal Numbers. 'Please don't tell me you and my very young only child were using cardboard boxes as sledges in order to toboggan down the stairs.' 

'Alright, then, I won't tell y--' 

There's more rustling, and a muffled, 'Oh for goodness' sake, Sherlock.'

'John,' Molly's back with a moment later, using her steeliest voice, which-- to be fair-- has become quite steely in the years he's known her. 'Do not leave Baker Street, please. They'll be home before you know it. And will be needing some food and a nap.'

'Which one?' John says dryly, feeling himself unclench. Rosie is fine. He trusts Molly one hundred percent on this subject. Rosie is fine. 

… he finds he keeps repeating that in his head, though, until he actually hears Sherlock's feet on the stairs an hour later.

He pushes through the kitchen door onto the landing, heedless of the half-cooked supper left behind, and doesn't breathe out until he's met Sherlock halfway up and lifted Rosie into his arms. 'Baby girl,' he mutters into her hair, holding her close. 'Are you alright?'

She wriggles with a grunt, and he reluctantly pulls back so she can answer. 'Daddy!' she starts enthusiastically, then babbles out a stream of words John only partially understands and, to be honest, partially tunes out when he clocks the delicate-looking cast peeking out from under Sherlock's cuffs.

They're stood face to face on the stairs, talkative child between them, and John feels strung up tight, balancing on some sharp edge as he searches Sherlock's expression and works out what has happened.

Sherlock has, once again, saved a Watson.

He'd also been the one to get her into the trouble, and he will get a stern lecture in a minute, but John knows in his bones, finally, that his heart is very much in the right place. And Rosie is in his arms, whole and fine and still chattering at them, her fingers playing with his collar.

'You sodding idiot,' John says finally, voice nearly uncooperative. 'You're lucky it was only a fracture.'

'We only used the bottom few stairs,' Sherlock replies, indignant. 'And I had it under control. I would never--'

Without thought, John kisses him, right on his slackened mouth. He's somehow unsurprised by how natural it feels. 'I know, I know. Trust me. You're still an idiot.'

'John?' Sherlock asks tightly, though he hasn't moved away.

'Just. Shut up.' John presses their lips together again, pressure letting Sherlock know he means it, that this isn't just a fluke. 'Let me have this.'

And Sherlock, utterly reliable in this one respect, lets him.

[❤️]

[idv-news-boi]

-> Laurence's Journal Entries {Part 3}

Journal #21 {Who's this sassy, lost child ...?} @/vthekidfromtheforest

James... It seems the kids in this manor really like Akihiko- Like... way too much..

We recently just met some kid called "V" (shows a profile pic of V from the manor's files) turns out that's Jane's child,,, I thought Jane was too young for adoption papers- but as long as they're happy, sure! Not my business anyway-

Though that's not the real issue,,,,- Is just- this kid doesn't stop clinging on poor Akihiko who's kindly telling that he has to leave-

JDDJBDDJDJN Sorry,,, his situation amuses me a bit,,,- 🤣

I was trying to ask the kid kindly,,,! but she ended up threatening me...- rude lil one...

I ended up tricking her and hoisted Akihiko onto my shoulder before running away- She ended up crying as Akihiko waved rjfbfb- I felt a bit bad for the champ... A bit.

Journal #22 {Promoting the Showman's Profile~} @/idv-ask-the-showman

James,,, i thought I was dreaming at first- but i just met a circus veteran! Bonus point,,, he's a handsome, innovative ringmaster~

Oops- that slipped~!

Though, It's unfortunate how he had to face a tragic fate- all i can hope, James, is that he gets to be satisfied someday... And that his lil brother gets to live at the fullest.

Speaking about his brother, the young man sounded pretty familiar from Mr. Flynn's description... But i couldn't lay a finger on it.

Journal #23 {Interesting...} @/idv-avatar

Never thought I was going to meet someone who just got out of the game- and who asked a question related to an alternative identity crisis to think of- it's dark, but very interesting theory to consider...

Mmm... I might just check my insides in how an anatomy of a survivor is like- Who knows it may not be like my body structure from before! Akihiko won't agree with that idea, but I'm sure Eiji will for medical study purposes~

Journal #24 {I flirted with a senior- And it felt great~!}

Yes, you heard me- I committed the Kabedon and tried to flirt on Mr. Lucky Guy- Even asking for his real name... Never knew i would have such level of audacity but here i am~!

He looked so vulnerable and flustered... I couldn't resist- well, i can.... I just simply wanted to see that cute, freckled face upclose~

Journal #25 {Rosie...?}

Whenever i go to the same matches as her, Rosalyn seems to look more nervous when I'm around her,,,-

I really wonder why... And what's she hiding from within her ceramic, doll-like mask... Bet she'll look super adorable with both her face and her adorable lolita dress combined~

But i have the presentiment that there's something she's hiding... That i shouldn't know for some reason.

Journal #26 {I slandered the Vice Clan Leader~}

I simply slandered him by placing a crown in front of his sacred portrait- Akihiko didn't seem pleased at my actions hahaha!

The strange part after is that Angel has been glaring at me the entire lunch break once i got out of the room on my way to the dining room-

Journal #27 {So many papers...}

It seems today is a busy day,,, a lot of people coming, records to keep, news reports to track down,,, Even more paperwork and the dialogue papers i have to practice for my essence-more burden for the Witchita Scholar package essence if added.

Journal #28 {Wow...}

Rosie got chosen to match costume with Mr. Quinn- they look cute together~!

Though, i don't know why I'm feeling a bit jealous... Probably because I ate something bad.

Journal #29 {Angel is being extra again-}

The Spanish boi is really going extra in men like me- I don't even celebrate the holiday much! Though, I'm really enjoying Rosalyn's singing... Sounding beautifully familiar- but Angel kept insisting me to wesr for the occasion if I'm going to attend her concert- ahh,,,

Journal #30 {Holy Wow...}

JIIMMM- I NEVER THOUGHT FEBRUARY WOULD MAKE PEOPLE SO SWEET AND THOUGHTFUL FBRBFBBF,,,!!!!

Some Anon just have me a big pile of gears for my communicator! I'm still halfway searching through the items,,, nothing so far, but it's still a lot to look! At least some of the gears will come in handy for certain tools for Akihiko to fix~!

[breakingunanimousblog]

Alcohol Entry #1

The first time I tried alcohol I was about 2-3 years old and my dad left his beer out and I took a drink and everyone laughed and my mom was mad, its weird I feel like I can remember being there and getting picked up by my mom while she was yelling at my dad. I never wanted to drink after that and by the time I was about 10 I realized that any time my dad was being a dick it was because he was drunk, even though there were the few times he would be super drunk and be nice to me and my siblings and that would confuse me a lot, because how can something make you act two completely different ways. I never knew which one of him was the real one and I still don't sometimes. When I turned about 14 i moved to California with my mom and sister after my dad lied to my mom and said we were all gonna go as a family just for her to find out while overhearing a conversation that he wasn't even thinking about that as a real option, so when we got there my mom started drinking a lot and I resented drinking because I felt like it was the big issue, that was until I came back to Texas to live with my dad and brother. It was chaos and I hated it so much, that one day I just decided to grab a cup fill it halfway with Captain Morgan and Big Red, because that's what I saw my dad did, I was about 15 when that happened and from then I wouldn't drink all the time but I would sneak a few drinks when family would be over4 and everyone was drunk so it would be easy to fill up real quick. I never thought I would be a full time drinker, I always felt like I was in control of it. Then I got a job, and started doing pills so much I thought that drinking would be the better alternative (which it wasn't). so I would by a bottle of whiskey every paycheck and just have a glass or two a night , which turned to 3 or 4 a night and so on. I never noticed but I really just kept on from there I never really managed to stop myself unless I was out completely and even then i would ask my mom for money and have my friend get me a bottle just for me. It was so bad by the time I turned 21 I had already been in the hospital with a .34 blood alcohol level but still I was drinking because I wasn't worth help I felt. I felt like it was too much work to even try and stop because " my dads a drunk so its over for me" Which is not true no matter what a person goes through or feels like they certain things stacked against them, if you can get help while you're young you can get through it and rewire your brain for the better.

[kadimae]

Day 41

Have you ever heard of the phrase, respect your Elders? I am reminded of this statement in moments of high emotion and untamed anger. Quite recently I’ve had to deal with unique situations in which the gray area of this statement may or may not apply. The struggle that comes with the conflict can make a young soul like mine bitter. I try to unearth these toxic mindsets as quickly as they come, but like the other phrase states: easier said than done.

The people in your life may love you dearly, but may not always have your best interest at heart.

I began to take inventory of the key players in my life whether they be close friends, acquaintances, and family members. I realized that the person I am becoming differs greatly from who they know. I began going through major life changes. I was the number one factor holding me back from being the person I aspired to be. As those changes started to occur I began to see how the reactions of the people closest to me became distant. With the struggles I faced constantly, I finally began speaking up about some of the struggles I was going through to those nearest to me. Some of my closest friends rallied behind me as these changes were being made, my immediate family on the other hand not so much.

I was an addict. In my experience alone I can say this with certainty. There are 3 things a recovering addict needs to become healthy. Number one is Faith, the ability to trust the process and see beyond what is happening to their body physically. Two is the ability to speak up about their struggles so that they may be able to heal and forgive. Lastly, number three is support from those around you, knowing that they have someone in their life who is encouraging positive changes for living a clean and sober life.

Truthfully I only had one of these which was Faith. By God’s grace, I was able to overcome a 6 year addiction to nicotine. I suffered in silence during this cleanse (quitting cold turkey). When I spoke up I had hoped my family would care enough to ask me why. One family member in particular ignored my truth in a way I will never forget. If I’m being honest I pray for this hurt feeling constantly and I want to forgive them.

Addiction is an extreme way of coping with life. That daily choice to use to cope with life due to something or someone being missing from your life can be a struggle and if it's not stopped immediately, it can become a stronghold. It's a hard realization to admit yet very necessary to acknowledge. There were many things I lacked and I had convinced myself that using them would help me feel better, instead it nearly ended me. For that reason, I decided to get clean by God's Grace and Mercy and began taking steps to overcome these challenges.

I am still working progress, and I will continue to grow.

I am enough because Christ is enough.

It takes 21 days to create a steady habit.

Sleep is my portion.

I am in control of my emotions, no one on this earth can make me feel or act out of character.

Addiction is not who I am.

Addiction does not define me.

I am whole because I choose to acknowledge the beauty of life that is within me.

There are better ways to pass the time.

I choose to let go of the situations that I can no longer control.

I will no longer wait for the validation that others provide through words, instead, I choose to validate my personal feelings and emotions.

Anger has no control over my life, I choose to let it go.

You are beautiful because Christ is beautiful.

Not everyone will appreciate the new you that emerges when you leave addiction in the past.

It’s up to you to continue to redefine who you are without using. No one in this world can take that journey away from you.

Continue to love yourself through the process and remember to never give up. Even if you slip and fall, Christ is always there to meet you halfway at whatever pace your progress is at. Do not wait for others to validate your journey. Oh! and respect your elders! Withdraws can be a Wild side effect to tame.