#i’ve become so numb to life at this point that if one more bad thing happens i’m calling it quits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Note

Hi! Congratulations on your milestone 😊

I would really like to see something with Spencer x Reader and Blinding Lights by The Weeknd! ❤️

Hello my love! I’ve wanted to write a fic based on this song for so long! Set in place of 3.16 Elephant’s Memory.

Send me a song lyric from my list to celebrate my follower milestone 🎵

Blinding Lights

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - Spencer is ten months sober and struggling to ward off his cravings. When a case takes the team to his hometown, he knows there’s only one face that can keep him from falling off the wagon.

CW - heavy angst, hopeful ending, past drug use, thoughts of relapse, Spencer is just really sad, brief mention of a bad past relationship, tears.

WC - 3.8k

The golden medallion watched him thoughtfully from the dresser, the way any inanimate object could. He could feel the judgement rolling of it in waves, hearing its sickly sweet commentary as he stared unblinking at the opposite wall.

You’re not strong enough, it goaded him. You can’t do this alone. Relapse is inevitable.

Of course he knew a piece of metal couldn’t think, couldn’t chastise him, didn’t have its own voice to vocalise these vicious words. It wasn’t sentient. It was a coin, a simple gold chip. And anyway, the taunting voice following him around like a rain cloud sounded too much like his own for it to be anything other than his own intrusive thoughts.

His cell phone was next to him, tucked against his stomach as he lay in the foetal position atop the scratchy hotel bed sheet.

Since having to cut his meeting at Beltway short and joining the team for the case less than twelve hours ago, he’d tried calling the same number fifty two times.

Fifty two times he’d called and fifty two times he’d gotten the same monotonous voice in response.

The number you dialled has been disconnected.

Yet it didn’t stop him from calling the same number over and over until his thumb was numb and the beeping continued to sound in his ears long after he’d hung up.

It was said that insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Did he really think that after fifty two phone calls the line would become magically reconnected just because he was so persistent?

He wasn’t surprised exactly, but he was disappointed. It had been more years than he could count since he’d last tried to call that number.

No, that wasn’t true, Spencer knew exactly how many years it had been, he knew how many minutes it had been since he last heard your voice.

Five years, two months, sixteen days.

He’d been standing in your doorway bidding you his final goodbye before he flew to Virginia to start work at the BAU. You’d said you’d stay in touch and you had. For a time at least. And then life simply got in the way.

But today of all days when he was, as the literature put it, craving, for the first time in ten months of sobriety he needed to hear your voice. He needed to hear your dulcet tones on the other end of his phone telling him it would be alright.

And to make even more signs point towards you, the case had taken them to his hometown of Las Vegas.

He didn’t know for a fact that you still lived here but there was something in his gut that told him you were close by. He could feel your aura, sense you were within his grasp but just out of reach.

Without so much as blinking, he blindly reached for the dresser next to the bed and felt around until his fingers brushed over that taunting gold medallion.

He tucked it into his palm, squeezing so tightly it would surely leave indentations in his hand. It was meant to be a token to aid him, to keep him focused for the next two months when he got his own.

But it was simply serving as a reminder of his addiction and how much he would give to get high right now.

The dilaudid didn’t just allow for his escape from reality but it also offered him a reprieve from his perpetual loneliness. Spencer had been on his own for so long, fighting battles solo against demons who always seemed to win as of late.

Sin City had never felt as cold and lonely as it did right now.

Still clutching the chip in one hand he used his other to pick up his phone. He pulled up his call history whilst moving as little as humanly possible.

But this time he didn’t call your disconnected line.

He put the device on speaker and held it in his hand, finally closing his sore and tired eyes as he listened to it ring.

He counted four dial tones until his call was answered.

“Boy wonder?” Garcia’s tone didn’t hide her confusion. “It’s late, I thought you’d all called it a night?”

“It’s not about the case.” He barely recognised the sound coming out of his lips and judging by the long pause down the line, Penelope didn’t either.

“Ok. What’s up?” She sounded concerned, it was nothing new.

Since the team discovered his addiction it was the same tone they’d all used on him. It was growing tiresome.

“Can you find someone for me? Like if I gave you a name could you find out where they live?”

Another stretch of silence met his ears but he knew Garcia was still there. He exhaled through his nose and forced his exhausted limbs to straighten out, hearing the clicking of joints that shouldn’t be as worn down at his age.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding in a groan deep in his lungs as he got himself into a sitting position.

The medallion was still pressuring aggressively into his palm.

“You know I can, Reid.” Garcia finally spoke. “But you’ve got to tell me what this is about. If I’m going to help you, you have to be honest with me.”

The truth was that Spencer felt like he was drowning. During daylight hours he was just about capable of keeping his head above water but in the night was when he started slipping beneath the surface.

The whole team was worried about him, hadn’t stopped worrying about him relapsing, worrying about his monsters out running him.

If Garcia wouldn’t give him the information he needed, it was likely ten months was where his sobriety ended.

“I need to see an old…friend.” Now was not the time to be going into detail. “It’s important.”

It wasn’t as though he deliberately kept you a secret from his team, he just never felt like talking about it. If he talked about you then all the pain would come flooding back to him, the waves of heartbreak likely to wash him away to sea for good.

But still, in the midst of undoubtedly the worst time of his life, you were the only person that had a hope of making it better. You’d been there holding his hand when he’d made the decision to have his mother committed, you’d been his rock in that horrible time of his life.

He knew when he was like this, you were the only one he trusted enough. You were the only person who had ever seen him, all of him, both metaphorically and physically.

“Reid,” Garcia sighed as she spoke his name and he knew exactly what words would leave her mouth next before she vocalised them. “Are you ok?”

Are you ok?

Such a flippant and vague question, but one in which he’d been asked more times than he cared to count over the past year.

And it wasn’t just the question, it was the tone that went along with it. The pity veiled in a cloak of concern, the kind of concern you only had for a person on the brink.

“No.” He confessed, loosening his grip on the chip maybe in the same way he was steadily loosening his grip on reality. “But that’s why I need you to do this for me.”

The desperation, the agony of his fractured mental state must have come through in his voice because it was only a second or two before Garcia replied.

“Ok.” She agreed and he heard the distinctive clicking of keys down the phone line. “Give me a name.”

***

It failed to register with Spencer that it was gone midnight when he emerged like a shadow from his hotel room, creeping down the corridors as if he were nothing more than an apparition. Limbs moved of their own accord with the address Garcia had given him burnt into his memory.

He found himself behind the wheel of one of the hired SUV’s, foot hugging the gas pedal as he sped in the direction of your home. The gold medallion sat on the dashboard almost like a reminder that this wasn’t a venture to buy drugs.

As much as he wished it was.

He knew the roads in Vegas like the back of his hand and he traversed them on autopilot. One road blurred into another, his focus waning.

All he could really make out through his tired and heavy eyes was the assault of light around every turn, seemingly getting brighter with each new street he drove down.

It soon became blinding, piercing his retinas as somehow he continued to drive, but all he could see was light. It all felt like some kind of fever dream, the haze that shrouded his brain was so familiar somehow.

It was almost as if he was high. But that wasn’t possible, was it? He’d remember if he’d used, wouldn’t he?

No, he couldn’t be high, he was simply fatigued. He was exhausted from work, drained from the constant internal battle he was fighting over his abstinence.

He just needed to see your face, to rid his vision of these damn lights that seemed determined to impede his vision.

He never could see clearly since you’d been gone.

Somehow he ended up parking the SUV on a quiet and sleepy road and then once again, his limbs moving without his brain telling them to do so, he was climbing out of the vehicle, up the front steps of a building, and knocking on the door.

He didn’t know what he planned on saying when, or if you opened the door. He hadn’t exactly stopped to think this through, if he had done there was no way he would have just shown up at your door after five years. He had more sense than that. At least he usually did.

All he knew was that if he didn’t see your face he had absolutely no doubt he would relapse. It was an incredible amount of pressure to put on one person, his sobriety rested on your shoulders and you were none the wiser.

He rubbed his palm aggressively against his left eye socket while he waited, still someone seeing those blinding lights long after they’d disappeared.

Time had ceased to be relevant to Spencer long ago and so he had no idea how long it was he was standing in your stoop, rubbing his eye as if to somehow erase any trace of light still poisoning his retinas.

But eventually the door creaked open, slowly, cautiously; it was the middle of the night and of course you would be sceptical about someone knocking on your door.

He dropped his hand back to his side as you appeared from behind the door, your hands clutching the wood, ready to slam it closed again if you perceived a threat.

Your brow was furrowed and you were rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. But a fraction of a second later he saw the realisation flood your features, the recognition of the man on the other side of your door in the middle of the night.

Your frown faded at the same time your eyes widened in an animated fashion. Your jaw fell, leaving your mouth agape while you sucked in a thick breath. The hands that had been clutching the doorframe fell to your sides and you simply stared at him unblinking.

“Uh, hi Y/N.” He offered you a meek shrug which told you without the use of his words that he had no idea why he was here.

He stuffed his hands inside of his pockets and brushed his fingertips across the chip in an attempt to keep him grounded but it failed.

You remained silent, taking him in. He’d aged, of course he had, so had you. But in your mind he was still the twenty-one year old saying his goodbyes as he left you forever in pursuit of his own dreams, in the process destroying your own.

But it wasn’t just the fact he’d aged, he almost seemed like a completely different person from the one you remembered; a ghost of his former self.

The dark circles he always wore under his eyes were blacker than you recalled, a stark contrast again his sallow, alabaster skin. His eyes always held so much emotion, like his heart lived through his pupils but right now they were vacant, staring through you rather than at you.

His lips were cracked and split from profuse chewing, something you knew he only did when he was nervous or upset. His shoulders drooped, his neck retreated inside his sweater as though he just wanted to disappear inside it all together.

You took a few breaths, trying to hurriedly reconcile all the emotions running rampant within you so you could move past them and focus on this broken man on your doorstep.

“Spencer,” you swallowed as you spoke. “What are you…why are you…?”

“I’ve been trying to call. I’ve been…” his voice was trembling and trailed off to try and correct it, whilst also trying to clutch at the right words. “I’ve been on my own for long enough.”

The last part of his sentence was whispered, so quiet you had to strain your ears to hear him.

He hung his head, looking down at his feet as he didn’t want to see your reaction to his pathetic words. He grasped the medallion tightly, it still didn’t help him to feel rooted.

But then he felt your delicate fingers brushing against the underside of his jaw, gently guiding his face back up until your eyes met. Even when they did, you kept your hand on him and your simple touch was everything he needed to feel tethered again.

It was as if you realised this too, as your lip started curling into a soft smile and when you removed your hand from under his chin you were quick to place it instead on his wrist.

“You wanna come in?” You tapped his arm, causing him to dislodge his hand from his pocket.

He nodded a little too frantically, sending his messy curls bouncing into his eyes. But he didn’t seem to care.

With his hand free out of his pocket he hurriedly caught your own hand and the grip in which he held you showed off his desperation.

You offered him another smile before leading him inside by his hand. And somehow just thanks to your touch, he felt whole once more.

***

You made some chamomile tea while Spencer sat on your couch, eyes scouring the room, taking in every inch of your life. He committed everything to memory, drew a map of your home on his heart.

By the time you returned Spencer had made himself comfortable, his converse tucked neatly next to the couch and he sat with legs criss crossed, a big plush sofa cushion resting in his lap. He was toying with something shiny between his fingers but he quickly pocketed it when he saw you coming back.

You handed Spencer one of the mugs which he took with a small, tight lipped smile of thanks. You sat down on the other end of the couch, leaving ample space between the two of you.

Spencer took a sip and if he noticed it was scalding hot it didn’t even seem to register with him. He cradled the mug in his hands and sighed.

“I don’t know.” He croaked, barely able to maintain eye contact with you for more than half a second.

“You don’t know what?” You replied, giving him a slightly curious look.

“You want to know why I’m here. You were inevitably going to ask. And the answer is: I don’t know.” He sipped more of the tea.

“Ok.” There was no point in following that up, no use reminding him of how many years it had been because he knew that better than you did.

“I tried to call.” He said for the second time. “A lot.”

“I had to change my number a while back. I had some issues with an ex-boyfriend. He got…obsessed after the break up. It’s ok now though.” You shrugged.

Spencer noticeably winced, hating himself for not being able to be there for you during that time. It also had a little to do with the idea of you being with someone who wasn’t him.

He’d asked you to go with him. When he moved to Virginia, he’d asked you to go with him. But you had a life in Vegas, you had dreams of your own that you weren’t willing to give up in order to chase his.

And along the way you’d met someone else, of course you had. Just because he hadn’t even so much as looked at another person in the last five years, it didn’t mean you had to do the same.

But secretly, he’d wished you had.

He sipped his tea, his heart constricting inside of his chest at the thought of you with another man. You were each other's firsts; you were Spencer’s only.

When he didn’t speak again you put your mug down on the coffee table and scooted a little closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of you.

Spencer hadn’t been able to see clearly since you’d been gone, but now as he looked at you it was like a thick fog had lifted from in front of his eyes.

“Spence?” You brought him back to the present, eyes blinking at you several times. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

He copied you and put his own mug next to yours on the coffee table before lacing his hands together on the cushion in his lap.

“I’ve been…unwell.” He mused, remembering the terminology Ethan had used to describe his addiction. “I mean, I was unwell but I got better. And recently I guess I’ve been feeling…sick again.”

You tentatively reached out and placed your hand on top of his and he felt so instantly relaxed at the feeling of your skin on his.

“And you came here because…”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I just knew if I didn’t see you I would have done something stupid tonight. I…I’ve missed you.”

Of course he’d known he missed you before this moment, but Spencer had long ago compartmentalised those emotions. He tried not to dwell on them because if he did he probably wouldn’t make it out of bed most mornings.

Your absence had left a hole in his life. He’d tried filling it with work, and for the most part it had been effective.

But being beaten to death and back again in Hankel’s cabin, all those emotions managed to break free of the cage in which he’d held them captive.

Dilaudid helped mute them, helped him escape from the loneliness he’d harboured for five years. Being sober again, he’d been forced to feel everything.

You briefly squeezed his hands before softening your grip, unaware of just how much your touch was soothing him.

“It’s been so long, Spencer.” You breathed out, thumb caressing his knuckles. “I missed you so much and now you’re here…” Now you’re here I never want to be apart from you again.

“I know.” He nodded, knowing what you weren’t saying. “Me too.”

A quiet understanding passed between the two of you while you unlaced his hands so you could entwine your fingers with his.

All the pent up emotions clung to the walls of the room like stale cigarette smoke. Everything that had ever been left unsaid between the two of you being spoken without the use of words.

You sat like this for some time until, still keeping your hands interlaced, you stood up, tugging Spencer to do the same.

He let you lead him by the hand towards your bedroom where you let go of him so you could lie down on top of the made bed. He took a few seconds of contemplation before an encouraging smile from you convinced him to do the same.

You laid on your backs but your hand soon found his again and he held on so tightly as if afraid you might float away.

His other hand slipped inside of his pocket and he pulled out the medallion which he cupped inside of his palm.

With you there by his side, holding his hand, the chip was much less taunting of him than it had been earlier in the night.

It was never supposed to be an omen, but a talisman, and now he was seeing it for what it really was.

He had two months until he would receive his own, and laying next to you in your bed he finally believed he could achieve that.

He rolled his head to the side on the pillow and you did the same, a soft smile cloying to your lips.

“What…what happens tomorrow?” He couldn’t help but ask, always in need of answers to questions that didn’t always need asking.

You gently squeezed his hand as a small exhale left your parted lips.

“Let’s worry about that in the morning, ok?”

“I wish I could.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Maybe coming here was a bad idea. I don’t know if I can just leave again this time.”

“Spence,” you shuffled a little closer to him. “We’ll figure it out, ok? But if you think for a second I’m just going to be able to let you walk away again, well for a genius, that’s just dumb.”

Spencer couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips as his heart soared at your words. He brushed his fingers over yours whilst doing the same to his chip.

He exhaled a slightly shaky breath whilst turning completely onto his side and opening his palm so you could see the coin.

“It’s not mine.” He was quick to say. “I still have two more months to make my year.”

He didn’t need to say more than that. You mirrored his position and took the medallion from his open palm.

He wanted you to have all the facts, to have total transparency between you so you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into. But he underestimated just how much you still knew him.

“I figured.” You whispered. “You’ll get there. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you.”

Once again his heart soared, his whole body feeling lighter than air. Tears he didn’t know had sprung to his eyes, started rolling down his cheeks but yet, he was smiling.

“I’d like that very much.” He nodded against the pillow.

You fell into silence after that and soon Spencer’s tired eyes started to flutter closed.

You’d been the one to show him how to love and along the way he’d forgotten. But now he was starting to remember it all. He’d been on his own for long enough and maybe, just maybe, you could show him how to love all over again.

Being In your presence, the voices in his head were silenced, the lights weren’t quite so blinding. And with your touch, he could finally sleep.

#milestone celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

493 notes · View notes

vessels-two-front-teeth · 22 days

Text

Sleep Token Lore theory

From the pov of someone deeply interested in psychology and a survivor of narcissistic abuse.

Warnings: mentions of narcissistic abuse, brief mentions of suicidal ideation, alcohol use.

Disclaimer: my idea of what all of it means is less in the esoteric direction and based more on my opinions of some of Vessel’s personal experiences. I’m basing all of this on lyrical content, the evolution of his masks, how he behaves on stage, and my own personal experience. I will not mention any of his previous work or related individuals. I will keep this as neutral as possible out of respect for all of their privacy.

1. The deity of Sleep: I believe that Sleep is less of an actual deity (I know it’s mostly a marketing gimmick), and more of a metaphor for someone that Vessel used to be in a relationship with. This person was very toxic and likely abusive in some manner. They also definitely had a god complex. In my opinion they most likely displayed a lot of narcissistic tendencies, such as love bombing, denying responsibility, manipulating, lies, mind games, and other such things. Emotional and psychological abuse are very likely. People who display narcissistic traits tend to worm their way into the minds of their targets. They prey on their insecurities, weaponizing them. Hence “my insecurities surround me like lions in a den.” This person met Vessel, noticed the things he was probably already insecure about and deliberately poked at those wounds, making them worse. This person also probably made efforts to isolate Vessel from the rest of his family and friends, making him dependent on them and them alone. If you have no one else to turn to, you are much less likely to try to escape.

2. Vessel’s part in the toxicity: in multiple lyrics from different songs Vessel expresses deep all consuming guilt over the way that he acted in this relationship. Being in a relationship with a narcissist will change you into a different person, but who you become depends on who you are to start with. Some people become more argumentative and fight back, which the narcissist enjoys. They like it when you react emotionally, they take it as a chance to say “look at the way you’re acting, you’re being the bad guy. Now I can go and make my smear campaign to make me look like the victim.” Other people shut down emotionally, becoming even easier to manipulate and control. In Vessel’s case, I think he mostly became the argumentative version, though inside he was likely pretty emotionally numb. This is shown in DYWTYLM when he says “maybe it’s not that you conceal your feelings, they just don’t exist.” The narcissist has succeeded in alienating him from himself so much that he can’t recognize his own emotional state or needs.

3. Vessel’s emotional state: with the narcissistic behaviour that I mentioned earlier, it’s very likely that Vessel was the recipient of a lot of mind games and love bombing. Love bombing, to put it in the simplest terms, is when a narcissist pours on the charm in opportunistic times to get you to believe that they are the nicest person ever. They follow this up with extremely shitty behaviour, and then more charm. This way you start to believe that you imagined the shitty part and that they couldn’t do anything wrong. This back and forth creates a pattern that the victim will be addicted to, the good parts are so good that they brush off the bad. This is shown in Sugar “I’ve developed a taste for you” and in Distraction “you come crawling back to me, but I’m already on the ground.” If the narcissist is tenacious enough, this will push their victim to the point of wanting to take their own life or attempting to. This is shown in Atlantic, Are you really ok?, Dark Signs, and several others. References to scars on arms, trenches deeper than the scars can show, tearing off limbs, etc etc.

4. Vessel’s actions during: there are several songs where he describes self sacrificing behaviour, the biggest example being The Offering. Just the whole entire song. He gave himself over completely to this person. In a healthy relationship this isn’t a bad thing, but in an unhealthy relationship, it most certainly is. His entire identity could’ve been defined by the other person. “I am Vessel, and I belong to ________. They are my purpose.” That kind of thing. A complete erasure of who he was prior. At this point, he does not know who he is, he depends on them to tell him and others who he is. Through this he also grew to hate himself, and to believe that all of his dreams were probably unrealistic or something like that. And that he is ugly, as is shown in the Fall For Me video. This probably acts as the main driving force behind the masks in the first place. To literally hide behind, in fear that if the mask were to go away, that we the audience would no longer be interested. There’s those insecurities again. Afraid that he’ll lose all of his success if they see his face. Despite the fact that we don’t buy his albums to listen to his face.

5. The aftermath of this: When this relationship ended, which would’ve been after a long course of back and forth, and probably some on again off again cycles, Vessel would’ve been left feeling completely dead inside. To put it simply. Recovering from this kind of abuse takes a very long time, for most it takes months, for others years. At the start, he would likely struggle to see any worth in himself at all, hence him saying that who he is behind the mask does not matter. He was taught that belief. I think we can all agree that for Vess, it took several years to fully recover, and we continue to see his progress with every performance. We can also see this via the evolution of his mask, in the beginning covering his whole face, very much not human. Then the second mask, also not human but also softer. Not as archaic in appearance. But still not human. Still not him. The current mask showing a portion of his face at all times, the red lace like design on the bottom. It’s prettier, softer. It’s more human and approachable, but it has the spikes on it. He still feels the need to defend and protect himself. The other ways we were able to see the damage incurred, was through the fact that for many earlier performances, Vessel was drunk on stage. It doesn’t take a lot of thought to see that he wasn’t feeling too good about himself. A lot of victims of this kind of abuse tend to turn to some kind of vice/addiction to get them through the pain. After going through and getting out of something like that, self care and healthy habits usually isn’t a top priority. All you want in that situation is to numb the pain and distance yourself from it.

Someone on TikTok also pointed out to me the line (I think) from TMBTE “I’ll take a pound of your flesh before you take a piece of my pay stub.” With the idea that the person he was in a relationship with he also worked with, and they hogged a lot of his money. This aligns very much with narcissistic tendencies, as financial abuse is also extremely common.

More about the other members and their roles tomorrow.

#sleep token lore #sleep token #sleep token vessel #sleep token ii #sleep token iii #sleep token iv #sleep token worship #sleep token theories #vtft lore theory

28 notes · View notes

niyabiblioteca · 2 years

Text

i can help

PAIRING: best friend!hyunjin x fem!reader

WARNINGS: not exactly smut cuz i have horrible writers block, dirty talk, manhandling?

you’re so deprived and you have yet to receive the treatment you deserve. how could hyunjin not help you?

—————————————————————————————————————

you love hyunjin so much.

you love that as your best friend, you can always confide in him. even with the most personal or embarrassing or pathetic stories.

hyunjin has heard stories from you that most people would take to the grave, but he has made it clear in your friendship that he would never judge you and will always lend an ear or a shoulder when it’s needed.

you have taken complete advantage of that promise, hence why you’re in his kitchen for the 3rd time that week, scraping the remaining ice cream from the bottom of the tub after yet another ruined hookup.

“i swear it’s like i’m cursed hyunjin. why does your species just fail to know basic fucking female anatomy?”

hyunjin chuckles in amusement but also remorse as he watches you frustratingly take bites of the vanilla ice cream he’s bought for this occasion especially. he’s even designated a spoon for you at this point because after the amount of times you’ve ended up in his kitchen just this week, he figured you’d need one.

“like how hard is it to find a girls sweet spot or her clit or her g-spot? especially when i fucking tell you where all three are! if i have to experience a man rubbing on my fucking inner thigh again i’ll lose it.”

hyunjin listens intently, nodding and you’re honestly impressed at his ability to engage in these kinds of talks with you as if it’s so casual.

he has to admit though, this is getting old.

not the whole having you in his house talking about your problems thing. no, he promised you could always count on him and he really meant it. but the fact that all week it’s all been about how your sneaky links just completely leave you high and dry makes him feel so bad for you.

“i don’t think i’ve faked this many orgasms in my life. maybe it’s me, my vagina is broken or something. because there’s no way this keeps happening to me and i’m becoming more and more strung up by the hour.”

he let you continue to go on as he disposed of the ice cream tub and spoon for you, listening and plotting his response when you’re done. the crazy thing is, he doesn’t feel shy or weird about what he’s about to offer at all. he feels that he’s actually a very good friend for considering this because he’ll be damned if his bestie is without a proper orgasm for the rest of the week after the hell she’s been through.

“i just can’t do this anymore, hyunjin. it’s actually causing me so much stress and anger i might explode.”

you almost feel bad for going on like this because you think this isn’t even a serious issue. you just wanna have a goddamn orgasm. a real one.

hyunjin thinks it’s a very valid reason though.

“i can help you.”

literally hyunjin hasn’t said this much the entire time you’ve been over. so this definitely caught you completely off guard.

your eyes widen as you almost choke on your saliva.

“y-you can help me what?”

“ i can help you cum.”

ah. so you definitely weren’t fucking hallucinating.

you couldn’t exactly react as hyunjin grabbed your hands and pulled you out of your seat so that the two of you were standing not even two inches away from each other.

“tell me. what could i do to give you the most mind-numbing orgasm ever? what did those men do wrong?”

he put his hands on both sides of your face as he looked you dead in the eyes waiting for your answer. he was very serious about this and he was taking your pleasure seriously. that alone made your whole body hot, especially between your thighs.

“t-they were too soft with me. i wanted it rough and they didn’t give that to me.”

hyunjin gave a cute eye smile in response to that as this information was all making sense to him. he was glad he was given this insight about what makes you tick so that he could accommodate you properly.

and that he did.

not even 30 seconds after you said that, he spun you around and pushed your upper body against the countertop so that you were bent over in front of him.

he wasn’t gentle either. he had used every bit of strength and aggression to get you where he wanted you and oh did it work so goddamn well.

you whimpered as you felt his bulge press against your heat. you couldn’t see him, but just the image of his lean figure pressed against your body as his hand reached forward and gripped your hair to pull your head up made you so fucking wet it was actually surprising to you.

“mmm. this is better. so tell me, y/n. how else can i make you cum so hard that you forget about every last hookup this week?”

you were downright embarrassed of the response you managed to let out, but hyunjin felt there was no need when we was doing everything in his power to make you feel good.

“s-spank me. slap me. choke me. fucking ruin me, please.”

hyunjin let out a low growl at your tone and pressed his bulge even harder against your core, causing you to whine and push your hips back at the same time.

“please, what?”

you knew what he wanted you to say. he knew what he wanted you to say. so badly. the moment he heard it, all hell would break lose and he would give you every last inch of him if you wanted it.

“please, jinnie. fuck me.”

god, hyunjin is such a great friend.

————————————————————————

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids #hyunjin smut #hyunjin

621 notes · View notes

radioluminescentoblivion · 7 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel: The Corruption of Creativity. Part 2

1. Continued Discussion (Also Spoilers)

I wanted to continue talking about the problems with the show in part 1, but since this crossed the line between the art and the artist in terms of discussing two different subject matters, it made it rather difficult to try and divide it up. So this goes off from the additional notes I made for the show and transitions into the problems I have outside of it from behind the scenes. This post will go into more about Vivziepop, the community, and her controversies and how this impacts not only the show but her bottom line as well.

BE WARNED, this will include some serious topics like Sexual Assault, Harassment, Death Threats, Misconduct, and Suicide. Read at your own caution…

2. Angel and Valentino: A tone-deaf understanding of the source material

I left this part out of the first post because this would be the point where I transitioned into the issues that led me out of the show onto reality. But I’ll still talk about this segment in Episode 4: Masquerade to provide context. In the episode, Vaggie persuades Charlie to be more commanding around the hotel to get things done or in Charlie’s words “aggressively kind” about her being the boss of the hotel, she marches up to Valentino’s studio where Angel Dust is having a sex scene filmed and he gets worried and wants her to leave but she doesn’t listen. She comes across Valentino who has a no-more subtle approach to Charlie’s presence. Valentino resumes the film but Charlie gets in the way and mayhem ensues: this enrages Valentino and prompts him to put out the fire that Charlie caused, leading to an uncomfortable scene where Angel Dust gets abused in his dressing room as Val berates him and reminds him who he belongs to. Afterward, Charlie gets upset and is about to go off on Valentino but Angel Dust intervenes and yells at Charlie to leave. This then transitions to the infamous song “Poison” by Blake Roman. The next scene continues with Angel Dust crashing on Husk’s bar table demanding some hard alcohol to numb the pain.

When I first watched this scene I could feel the raw potential of how this went out, how despite the show’s pacing still had a slow-burning impact on the viewer to appropriately leave a bad taste in their mouth (no pun intended). You can see and feel the devastating impact laid down on Angel Dust by his abusive boss and with the additional context from the music video Addict where he has his soul sold to Valentino where he gets sexually assaulted and abused, it only makes it more depressing. Angel Dust’s relationship is a horrifying reality that many people in the sex industry face every day which makes it all the worse for marginalized people such as POC, women, LGBTQIA, and all of the above. Sure it’s not the best depiction of an abusive relationship I’ve seen in media, but it does drive the point home, it also makes it more reassuring to see Angel Dust open up his feelings towards Husk, expressing empathy to each other more and even have a song about it with “Loser Baby”. This draws them closer than before and results in Charlie apologizing for her slip-ups with Angel forgiving her.

Episode 4 is a bittersweet example of when the show goes into a direction differing from the main plot that focuses on the side characters in a way that matters most and builds up on who they are as people and how they might one day be redeemed from being sinners. On its own, the episode is a good case of how the show can work with its stories to display the varied life of Vivziepop’s vision of hell. However, the perspective of the narrative becomes very contradictory when it goes outside the story.

On December 9th, 2023, a Twitter user and creator known as UninformedArtist posted screenshots from a deleted user account of a storyboard lead from Helluva Boss/storyboard artist from Hazbin Hotel, R2ninjaturtle or Raphielle. R2 has made art centered mostly around Angel Dust and Valentino, sometimes Vox (The TV-headed demon) in non-consenting scenarios and other explicit interactions. And with Vivziepop engaging with R2’s post featuring Vale and Angel in these situations with a lighthearted giggityness to it, creates a huge form of whiplash.

Now normally if this was an artist outside the Spindle Horse team, I wouldn’t mind this too much and just take this as someone expressing their taboo kinks—that happens a lot. However…this is coming from someone who works on a show that features an abusive sexual relationship that is supposed to be taken seriously. And yet, you have an artist who works on this show who has a kink for sexual assault and abuse and the creator of the show who hired this person is getting all cutesy about it. Are y’all starting to see the red flags here?

If this was a show that didn’t take itself seriously and wanted to make some edgy humor similar to how Sir Pentious got railed by everybody in the nightclub in episode 6 (which also doesn’t help Viv’s case since these things are supposed to be taken seriously.) But that isn’t the case, it wants to have its cake and eat it too. You want to make this show highlight the dark side of the sex industry, Yet you also make a light joke about rape in the show while having someone who gets turned on by that to work on that same show. This also demolishes the message of the abuse even further when you have R2 and Vivziepop herself getting excited over “Angest” Pins of Angel Dust and Husk being chained to their masters.

If this still doesn’t seem like a conflict of interest to you for trying to convey the point about sexual assault, abuse, etc. Imagine if I made a story about genocide: I display the horrifying realities of how a marginalized group of people being oppressed by the ruling majority class try everything in their power to kill, erase, displace, and steal from the people they hate so much and want to destroy to the very roots that no one will ever forget in gruesome detail, everyone from friends, family, and enemies are being systemically wiped out by these fascist’s monstrously distorted pursuit of glory.

Imagine me making all that…but, ✨WE HAVE A NEW MERCH DROP✨ Now you too can get your starving mother holding her dead child in her arms grieving, not only that, I also meme and get excited about someone’s art depicting those same people getting persecuted and ethnically cleansed for sexual gratification, YAAAAAAAAYYYYY!!11

Do you see how fucked up this is now?

But that’s not even the worst part about it. As more people started to show disgust and concern over this stuff, one of whom was a minor (I won’t say their name for their security you can read the thread yourself) this resulted in R2 saying some pretty fucked up stuff to this minor, using vulgar language directed towards this individual, not even doing the bare minimum of checking the person’s account to see if it was a younger person or not. It still wouldn’t excuse the behavior regardless of age, but this makes it all the worse.

Now I will give credit where credit is due (which ain’t a lot here) R2 did apologize for their comments made, but it was more of a backhanded response, and when a user pointed out the flaws in this comment, they simply responded: “Stay Mad”. On top of having to victim-blame a minor for being uncomfortable seeing this imagery, Vivziepop herself also chimed in with the victim-blaming, claiming how R2 was “joking” and that “You can’t always know the age of a random Twitter account you’re clowning on”. Even though they had their age on their Twitter account which is wild to me. She also goes on to say they don’t have a lot of influence on the show and that they’re harmless.

I’m not here to tell viv that R2 should be fired, I don’t think they’re a danger either, and it probably would’ve helped to just block R2 and move on from such gruesome imagery. That being said, that doesn’t excuse someone for sexually harassing a minor or for the creator of a show to double down on it. I hope R2 and Viv can learn from this experience and try to do better.

I want to be clear here I’m not trying to “cancel” people for having different tastes regardless of how people view it on a personal moral ground. I’m not saying Viv has to fire someone because they think this way, I’m not even saying that you can’t have any moments of nuance about a difficult situation in your own way and cope with it, that’s fine, that’s healthy. What isn’t healthy is sexually harassing people online and begrudgingly victim-blame a minor for coming across this shit. And it doesn’t make your work look genuine when you have someone who works on the storyboards of your show who gets off on the very thing you’re trying to take seriously. At that point, you’re not trying to make a serious story, you’re making a rape fantasy for someone. This wouldn’t be that big of a deal if this was supposed to be taken at heart as a real issue.

If this was just this related incident that was the biggest controversy for Vivziepop, I wouldn’t bat too many eyes. But unfortunately, you’ve read the title, you’ve read the warnings, so you know this isn’t where it ends.

3. SpindleHorse Workplace Misconduct

It’s not any news that allegations of misconduct at SpindleHorse Studios have been buzzing around since Helluva Boss was made into a YouTube series. These allegations have been met with both skepticism as well as a concern as to how things were going behind closed doors at SpindleHorse, but these allegations would grow and become more of a problem when animators who worked on Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel spoke out about it, giving their experiences about workplace culture, low wage pay, and fears of speaking out on these issues because of retaliation from Viv, her team or the rabid fanbase. Some of the employees and contractors even spoke out anonymously for fear of getting blacklisted and targeted by the community. That being said, it wasn’t always a nightmare for some people who worked at the studio, and some that worked there have mentioned it being a pleasant experience, but I’ll get to that later. All these things plus more are mentioned in a passionfruit article that I’ll link below for a further read. It’s pretty damning.

But I’ll mention some of the keynotes that are worth mentioning:

Low Pay Wages on Clean-Up Animation

Users like Chai posted on January 5th, 2024 on Twitter how clean-up artists are offered a low pay of 35$ a second of rough animation. Not literal seconds mind you, but $35 a completed animation per second, that’s $1.45 for every 24 frames. For reference, according to ZipRecruiter: The average pay for a work-at-home animation clean-up artist is lower than this with a rate of $29 an hour nationwide

https://www.ziprecruiter.com/Salaries/Work-From-Home-Animation-Clean-Up-Artist-Salary#Hourly

(this isn’t an exact figure to go by for all clean-up artists nor do I know all the financial ins and outs of animation, so I may be wrong on some math here.) It's not as bad, but it's still low. One freelance animator mentioned that when Helluva Boss was on pause for Hazbin’s production, they had no choice to find another source of income so they had to deal with the low pay and stressful job that ultimately wasn’t even worth it in the end after finishing Hazbin Hotel. While this is nothing new in the animation industry (especially one where it's the most thankless and underpaid job), the wages can vary depending on the project, location, industry, etc it just goes to show that this is a recurring practice within the industry that really needs to change. Be it for animators or artists alike. It’s one thing to make a passion project with your closest friends and partners or people who need an extra buck and aren’t suffering, it’s another to offer up underpaid jobs with slave labor wages and then suddenly make it seem as if desperate people have a “choice” to work or not it's no more unacceptable than those who defend such practices.

“The job was voluntary, nobody was being forced into taking less money”

This is a sentiment that is brought up a lot by Neylan in the article. I’m well aware that Neylan said they had a fixed budget and had to lock the budget to adapt rates for things to work out. Now I could understand this being something for newbies getting into work for the animation industry for a first-time experience, but to make it seem like this was a part-time job to work at is baffling to me, especially for something seen as a passion project, which to me, is a code word for work for me for free/less money. Not to mention, the notion of “no one is forcing you” is one that is echoed frequently in other abusive industries like the video game industry (despite these people having no other choice to find another job to survive.)

No Human Resources

As of now, SpindleHorse has no Human Resources or dedicated HR person aside from Neyland himself who performs such tasks as coordinating and firing freelancers and works as the production supervisor at the company. Though he mentions that something they’re hoping to fix in the future. I guess it remains to be seen.

Fear of speaking out

It's not a surprise that people become weary when speaking out about their experiences in or out of SpindleHorse. Freelance artists such as Erin Frost wrote in a tweet thread before getting deleted about her experiences at SpindleHorse and her frustrations with people not believing her when being open about the unstable and abusive environment working with Viv and how she got a note sent by one of her lawyers as a scare tactic.

https://ben-the-hyena.tumblr.com/post/699242311996047360

Artists Ken Cook and Nicholas Jordan also spoke out about the bombardment of harassment from fans. With Ken, making a whole pdf on their circumstances of crediting their work and ideas.

https://www.docdroid.net/zyvFyCb/kens-experience-pdf

The pdf also gives some transparent insight into Vivziepop’s workflow in conceptualizing and executing stories. As well as some horrible accusations against Ken such as grooming and trying to steal viv’s IP of Hazbin Hotel despite clearly stating that wasn’t their intention, on top of gaslighting and bigotry such as transphobia and acephobia.

I could go on about Vivziepop’s history of manipulative and toxic behavior toward friends and peers, but for the sake of relevance, I wanted to keep it mostly tied around 2018-2024. When viv isn’t directing her venomous ire towards her colleagues that she doesn’t like or agree with, she directs it towards those outside her work/friendspace.

Kedikatzen is an artist who made a webcomic back in the days of old that is now discontinued. Judging from the discussion, I’ll assume it was around anywhere from 2014-2018, but I’m not sure, Kedi/Katt was not only bullied by viv herself but got harassed by her zealous fans. All Kedi wanted was an apology but never received one, forcing her to delete her personal accounts and avoid the internet for a while before coming back in hopes of starting over, until she heard news of other people speaking out and wanted to also chime back in just to prove this wasn’t an isolated incident. In 2020, Viv was making big accusations of stalking, harm, and threatening to use lawyers against Katt (noticing a pattern?) All while acting like the victim here when she clearly wasn’t.

She also explains how Viv went to a con in Georgia at one point and met up with April, a person she had beef with in the past, and when April wanted to clear things up with no hard feelings, resulting in viv to tweet about April “stalking” her which in turn made her rabid fans send death threats to her which she deleted and then made an apology about.

But even when it’s not towards other creators, she’s also had a history of being very defensive towards her critics, often deflecting legit critiques, getting salty about criticism as a concept or critics as people, getting defensive about people just having slight gripes, etc.

As someone who is a critic myself (I mean you are reading this) it's not surprising that you will come across bad critiques of things and that people will either be trolls or just assholes, but for those that have genuine criticism, viv tends to lump them all together despite saying she thinks the criticism is important for growth when it's obvious that isn’t exactly what she wants. I’ve sent tweets to her at one point calling out these bad takes on criticism, but that was ages ago and unfortunately, I don’t have those tweets on me—sorry y’all.

And now we get to our final and easily one of the most depressing segments of this post, which is the dark side of fandoms and the damage they can cause.

4. Fanaticism

It goes without saying that the community for vivziepop has garnered some of the most abysmal, delusional, toxic, and manipulative fan base since Steven Universe if not worse. I’ve seen a lot of shitty people in fandoms, but this takes the cake of it being up there with the greats such as: MLP, FNAF, Steven Universe, etc. It’s quite amazing how such a community is so dedicated in all the best and worst ways.

But all jokes aside, the vivziepop community has had a long radioactive history of having the most deranged of fans sick themselves to those they deem less than worthy of respect or decency. So much so that some will even dehumanize others be it in or outside the fandom, and lose their shit over the most trivial of inconsistencies. Obviously, this isn’t supposed to be a sweeping generalization of everyone, just a focus on those who have lost their cool.

This makes situations all the worse when the leader herself has something unflattering to say to someone she doesn’t like. Viv is known to both intentionally and unintentionally enable her fans to attack people, innocent or not. Now that’s not to say Vivziepop herself is all to blame here, nor does that mean she hasn’t made any… “attempts” to apologize, but it was more just playing the victim card and slapping some backhanded response on it.

Though this is older she might’ve made more “apologies” over time, so if someone has a more recent example of this, please let me know.

However, this leads us to the most crucial part of this post which is the story of Shay and how they took their life.

The document opens with an introduction from a person named Liv who explains the story of how Shay was a young queer neurodivergent fan who got to be part of the community around the days of the Hazbin Hotel pilot, Livestreams, and Huniecast, Shay was a massive fan of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss that she would collect an abundance of merchandise in support of the show, holding Vivziepop to high praise as a creator. They would also share and like posts from social media to further spread their infatuation with the media.

Those involved in the screenshots were part of a fan discord server dedicated to HH and HB and shared their love for specific ships like RadioDusk (Alastor and Angel Dust), this ship would be widespread in the server at the time until around the middle of 2023, with new members who had a focus on the HuskerDust ship (Husk and Angel Dust). This new inclusion of members began fueling flames with their support for their ship, creating a resentful environment towards RadioDust fans, this fueled the flames of what would be a digital turf war between ships in the server and the internet at large on different social media sites all from the same community, some bouts of which have been around for quite some time and continue to this day.

On December 12th, 2023, Shay showed gratitude for an administrator stepping in to stop the barrage of harassment by HuskerDust fans over Shay’s comments on the ship made them uneasy due to the age gap and coerciveness of it. Shay felt that their moments of joy in the community just wasn’t there like the good old days with Ashley, Michael, and Ed, but now it's just resorted to ship wars, with Vivziepop herself partaking in these petty engagements and enabling the toxic mentality of the HuskerDust shippers. But despite all this, they continue to support viv and hold her in high esteem.

Later in the year, Shay would pay for the ultimate package that was available at the time for early access to Hazbin Hotel ($80 no shipping) to show their support for the show and new cast but felt iffed by the growing pain that would be the HuskerDust shippers on Twitter, this was also between the time of the teaser’s release and trailer’s. As these HuskerDust shippers grew more zealous towards those who had different ship preferences like Shay, it made them step away from their position of being a RadioDust shipper in turn for something more middle ground in not wanting any ship to be on top of another.

On December 11th, 2023, the conversation between Shay came back again expressing more disheartening feelings about the state of the fandom how they don’t belong anywhere, and how further in the conversation after some downtime, Shay feels out of place and like garbage and that they feel greatly disappointed about Vivziepop’s continued enablement of this mob mentality.

This would be the same time the HuskerDust ship would be teased on Twitter and Instagram by the voice cast and animators, making an already overloaded community of rabid shippers go even crazier. Shay would continue to spiral into emotional distress. How they felt betrayed by Vivziepop for choosing one side and enabling their behavior, Shay expressed hopelessness and felt sick—this would be the last time they ever posted.

On December 13th, 2023, the Hazbin Hotel trailer dropped with praise from the community, especially with the HuskerDust fans in awe of this post, pushing the envelope further. https://twitter.com/HazbinHotel/status/1734999724397035963

Eden (the one who took the screenshots) was concerned and tried to reach out to Shay, but made no progress with Shay’s accounts being deactivated, after Shay left the server, Eden followed suit the leading day and tried to contact them, however, it proved to be impossible since they didn’t friend them and sending a message only prompted the discord bot to notify Eden that they couldn’t message Shay since they don’t share servers anymore. Eden did however get in contact with a close friend of Shay’s known as Mari, and since then Mari had ceased supporting Vivziepop’s work after the incident.

On December 14th, Mari got in contact with Shay’s sister as they expressed their worries of Shay’s attempt at suicide. Further screenshots that are mostly blurred show multiple attempts were made directed to the Hazbin Hotel team to call out such destructive behavior.

None of them received any response from the team or Vivziepop herself.

Mari and Shay’s sister would continue to keep in touch with updates on Shay’s condition until 26-27 of December, Shay died from serious gastrointestinal injuries from drinking household cleaning acid, causing her to cough up blood, and having been sent to the hospital on December 13th. The last screenshot messages include Shay’s sister and Mari in grief over the passing of not only a friend but a loved one.

Liv further explains that they were a HuskerDust shipper at one point, but now feels a deep loathing and regret at such a title, their statements close with sorrow, and urge people to be wary of such dangers a fandom can cause.

5. Conclusion

I didn’t really have plans on making this deep dive at first, especially seeing how there were a lot of moving elements to this saga, some of which were far too extensive to cover all the controversies, critiques, drama, etc. I wanted to make this as condensed and digestible as possible. Though I realize this wasn’t the best-formatted post, I guarantee this has some issues that can be fixed in the future (assuming anyone gives a shit).

The point of making this post isn’t to “cancel” Vivziepop, but rather highlight the VERY consistent pattern of egotistical behavior that she has displayed over time, how she intentionally uses manipulative tactics to gain leverage over people and weaponizes her audience against those she disapproves off. Vivienne Medrano has not changed for the better and unless she takes a little self-reflection on her actions, she never will. If her silence on someone taking their life over the consecutive harassment and death threats from HER fans doesn’t ring any bells on how she really views her audience and other people, I don’t know what will. Vivizepop has shown everyone how she has no stability in running a full studio or maintaining a healthy social presence (indie or otherwise) and how she should invest in her personal demons rather than value fictional ones over others.

If you are a fan of Vivziepop and her work or were on the fence about it before, I hope this provides some clear context as to why she “Gets non-stop hate” and that it would be wise to reconsider your loyalty or support for her at face value. I want this post to be an important message for those who still love Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, this isn’t about me being a “hater” but someone who wants you to be cautious just like I was when I first heard about these allegations.

If you’re still not convinced about what I or many, many, many others have been saying for years. Perhaps it would help if I came from a more vulnerable position? (Not the most original but whatever)

When I was first introduced to Vivziepop’s work by my sister, I instantly fell in love with her work with her Die Young fan animation. Since then, I was never the same, and as I mentioned in my last post, I got indulged in her craft and was introduced to not only her community but the furry community as well. I kept tabs on her zoophobia comic and her other works, supporting her along the way. Vivziepop’s style of art and animation greatly influenced me over time and I propped her up as a major influence in my art and I still do to this day. One of my favorite characters of hers was Clarrisa, Fabian’s daughter from Zoophobia (we never saw her in the comic doe). Clarrisa would inspire me to create a character heavily inspired by her called Clair (I’ll more than likely work around the name to not make it as obvious) she was the first character I took seriously in my pursuit of art when I otherwise wouldn’t have cared or taken it seriously before. What started as one concept for a character with a fox based on another person’s character, would spark an entire list of stories with their worlds and characters—and I had Vivziepop to look up to for that.

But knowing that this is the same person I looked up to as a source of inspiration, leaves a poisonous taste in my mouth that can never be washed off. I no longer support Vivienne now or in future unless she has shown that she is really willing to take major strides to improve herself. As it stands now, she’s left a legacy of pain conflicting with future potential with new creatives. I don’t ask for people to stop loving her work because guess what? I still love her work too in some areas, I just won’t support her anymore. (at least financially or influentially).

If you are a fan of her work, own it and keep making and loving what you do, draw fanart, make redesigns, have your ships, write fanfictions, etc. Two realities can exist: you can enjoy someone’s work, but also recognize when someone is a massive piece of shit who makes donkey dooky. (Hello Warrior Cats fans).

Shit sun, I’m still making fan art for some zoophobia characters because I still love those characters or their designs, I ain’t special!

“You know, for the longest time I thought you were cool…”

Final Thoughts:

I honestly didn’t expect this uh…rant/analysis? To be this winded, I apologize if there are segments in here that are just a mess, if y’all have any constructive feedback, that would be appreciated. Or maybe I’m just a big meanie that needs to self deletus? Idk, I highly doubt this post will get much attention. I could’ve spent all this time and energy drawing my characters kissing each other or somthin. But here I am, making a totally original post about a creator I’ll never meet. But, if you are a vivziepop fan old or new and you feel like this post has done some justice or resonated with you, then I’m glad! I know there are some really good people in the community who aren’t alone on this and feel the same way, and I understand…I think.

Anyways. I’ll just leave some sources here and give credit to the people who made these posts linked here, if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t really be in this position now to raise awareness on this controversial topic. Please support these people below, don’t harass anyone or be a massive bigot for those I critiqued or featured here, be civil for fuck sakes, and yeah. I hope y’all have a good one.

Rest in Peace Shay- 2003-2023

Sources:

#longahpost #review #critique #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critical #vivziepop critique #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin spoilers #vivziepop fandom

43 notes · View notes

disturbedbeautywrites · 2 years

Text

Take it out on me - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Smut ahead! 18+ only, minors DNI

Warnings: smut, cursing, praise, p in v, oral (female receiving) , i think that's all. Just smutty smut smut

I’m out at the bar and I’m bored and lonely. I’m coming over. Be there in 5.

Your name popped up on Bradley’s phone as the text came through. He wished he could say that he was surprised you were sending him that text at midnight, but this had become a routine for the two of you. The two had met in high-school and instantly clicked, becoming the absolute best of friends. You two were inseparable and that continued even as he went into the navy. However, once you started dating a new guy, Rooster started noticing some things he didn’t like. You were talking to him less and coming around less. You could never hangout without your boyfriend tagging along. It gave him a bad feeling and lately he had been sensing he was right; especially on late night visits like this.

A knock at the door knocked him out of his thoughts as he walked into the living room, making sure there was a bottle of whiskey on his table for you. It was your drink of choice and you claimed it was because the alcohol burning hurt more than the emotional pain you were feeling. Yeah, Bradley was ready to beat this guy’s ass. He just wanted to okay from you first.

He walked over to the front door and opened it, his eyes falling onto you. Your hair and makeup were all done, telling him that you had in fact been out at the bar. Your legs were covered in goosebumps from the daisy-dukes that adorned them in the cold air, your breath showing as you stood in front of him. You weren’t crying this time, that was a good sign. He ran his eyes one more time over you, doing a mental triage as he leaned against the door frame.

“What is it this time?” Bradley’s voice came out gruff, something that made you raise your eyebrows. You didn’t answer and just pushed past him into the living room. He closed the door and watched your figure as you got comfy on his couch, reaching for the bottle of whiskey that he kept on his side table just for you. You took a swig, looking around the living room. “Did you redecorate? It looks lovely in here. “

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you dare bullshit me.” He was always straight to the point with you. You debated for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You knew you weren’t ready to tell him yet, so you took another long swig of alcohol as you crossed your legs. “No, seriously. I think this pillow looks new.” Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he ran his hand down his face, his eyes closed for a second before they snapped back open. “(Y/N).” It was only one word, but you felt it into your core, the expectant eyebrow raise making you sigh. “Fucking tell me.”

You ran your fingers down the glass bottle, following the grooves and label of the cool material. Your normally bright eyes now seemed tired and sad as you finally spoke up. “He’s being super controlling. He doesn’t want me to hang around you anymore.” You couldn’t help but feel shame bubble up in your stomach as you watched his jaw clench. “He’s trying to hold me down and take over every aspect of my life.” You didn’t want to stay still anymore, your legs picking you up as you started to pace slowly. You were periodically lifting the bottle to your lips, Rooster’s eyes watching you protectively to make sure you weren’t stumbling.

“I’ve told you how I feel about him many times already.” His words were curt and sharp, his eyes cutting into the glass bottle in your hands. “Look what he’s fucking doing to you.” He gestured to the alcohol and you chuckled darkly, shaking your head. “He isn’t directly causing me to drink. It just numbs everything.” Bradley ran a hand over his lips, running his tongue over them as he decided to tread lightly with his next words. “I think you should dump him.”

You stopped walking, your body turning to face him. Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as you held your hand up, clearly trying to process his words. “Why should I do that?” Your words were now getting slightly slurry, though you were holding your liquor fairly well given the situation. His eyes raked over you as he debated on what he was about to say. He finally decided to say fuck it and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer and taking a swig before he rejoined you.

“Why should you dump him? Because I’m done pretending I’m not absolutely crazy about you and that you don’t deserve better than that asshole.” Bradley’s voice was deep and low as he walked towards you, your steps matching him as you backpedaled. You went until your back hit the wall, his larger body towering over you as he put his hand on the wall above your head.

The whiskey on your breath was mixing with the beer on his as your chest started to move up and down at a more rapid pace. You were getting lost in his eyes when your phone ringing disturbed the moment, your boyfriends name popping up on the caller ID. Bradley expected you to answer it and repeat the pattern the two of you had fallen into. You came over when your boyfriend was being stupid, you would vent, drink, then always go back to him the second you were sobering up.

But this time, you didn’t answer. You sat there and pressed the decline button, Bradley’s eyes watching your every move intently. As he watched you slip your phone back into your back pocket he couldn’t help but smirk at you. Finally, he got you to come to your senses. With that gesture, he allowed his lips to attach to yours with a satisfied grunt. “Time to show you how you should be worshipped.”

You deepened the kiss and moved to wrap your arms around Bradley’s neck, his hands coming down to rest on your ass. His calloused fingers brushed against the rough denim of your shorts, mumbling for you to jump before he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He leaned you against the wall as his lips worked against yours, slowly moving to kiss down your jawline and down your neck. “I’m going to dump him tomorrow.” The words were breathless as you let out a soft whimper, the whiskey bottle dropping from your hands as your fingers moved to ball up his shirt. “Good girl.” The words made your breath hitch in your throat as you let out a soft moan.

He was loving your reactions to him, his body trapping you against the wall as one of his hands made its way up to caress your breast as he pulled your lips to his again. You kissed him desperately, soft whimpers of pleasure and neediness leaving your lips. Your chest was starting to heave and you started to feel yourself getting wet. “Bradley.. I need you..” Your words were soft and caused him to smirk as he moved to lay you down on the couch. He yanked your shorts down your legs, his hands running up your thighs hungrily as you watched him through hooded eyes.

“I got you, baby.” His eyes were soft as he watched you, sliding your panties down and sliding one finger inside of you. You let out a soft gasp at the feeling, your head falling back as he started to finger you slowly. You let moans escape your lips as he slowly added another finger, causing you to arch your back and grasp at the couch cushions. “Let me hear you.” He stopped moving his fingers, leaving them inside of you as he waited. “Please.. don’t stop. Feels so good..” You whimpered and tried to get some relief as you moved your hips. He shook his head and pulled his fingers out, scooting down so his face was even with your pussy. “Bad girls get punished.”

At his words you could feel yourself start to get drenched, his breath fanning over your exposed slick as you let out a desperate whine. “Please, roo.” The nickname you had for him went straight through him, hearing how breathy and desperate you sounded as you said it. It instantly caused him to get rock hard, one of his hands moving down to rub himself through his sweatpants. You watched as he slowly let his tongue out from between his lips, letting it run up and down your exposed pussy as he tasted you. It caused your hips to buck up, a strangled cry sounding out. He chuckled and moved his free hand up to your stomach, holding you down against the couch. As he was eating you out, he could hear you starting to whimper louder and more desperately. You were whining about how close you were, your hands tangling in his hair. “Come for me, baby girl.” You did just that, screaming out as your release coated his tongue and his lips, a satisfied grin on his face as he came back up to your level.

He pressed his lips against yours as you reached down for his sweatpants, rubbing his cock through the thin fabric. He pushed down the pants and his boxers, his cock springing up against his stomach. Your eyes widened at how big he was, a smirk evident on his lips. How had you and rooster never done this before? You weren’t sure, but you knew this would not be the last time. He spread your legs with his hand and slowly pressed his cock inside of you. You let out a gasp as you adjusted to his size, your eyes squeezing shut. For a few seconds you felt pain until he started to slowly move, his eyes locking with yours.

The pain turned into pleasure soon enough, his hand coming up to lace with yours. “Keep your eyes on me.” His thrusts started to get faster as you kept your eyes on his. It was hard for you to maintain the contact, the pleasure shooting straight through you as you repeatedly moaned out his name. You had good sex before, but never this good. Rooster knew what he was doing, that was for sure. “Roo, I’m not gonna last long.” Your words were quiet and he nodded, his thrusts speeding up. “I’m close too..” His voice was a deep grunt as he felt you start to spasm around him, a long moan escaping your lips. He felt his thrusts start to get sloppy as he came after you, sweat dripping down his forehead as he laid down against you.

He was careful to not put his full weight on you, a chuckle leaving his lips as he looked up at you. “Well, that happened.” His words caused you to roll your eyes as you reached down for his discarded shirt, putting it on yourself. “It did, and I’m staying the night because I fully expect round 2 in the morning.” At your words, Rooster couldn’t help but groan and nod. He bit his lip as he pressed his lips to yours again. “Yes ma’am.”

Taglist: @allivingstone01 @atarmychick007 @ginger-gabsq @fandomxpreferences

#bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick x you #bradley rooster x reader #top gun maverick smut #top gun maverick imagines #rooster one shot #bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot

355 notes · View notes

deusexmachinawitch · 1 year

Text

I lost count of the days I was doing my subliminals, especially because listening to them have become a part of my life already. I’ve also been busy with work and I’m finally involved in a project I’ve always wanted to be in. I’m very happy right now and honestly I am beginning to feel very fulfilled.

I’ve been manifesting finding out what I needed and how to not feel bad or empty anymore, especially because I don’t want to spiral anymore when it comes to manifestations like SP and my work goals.

Since then it is like whenever I feel something I dislike or need something to improve my life, it’s like the Universe hands it to me to the point that all the holes in my life are fulfilled. So it’s like I feel very calm and numb to circumstances. I’m not even taking medication, I just feel nice.

I’m going to try doing SATS and creative scripting too along with my subliminals, especially after I get rid of some things from work. I’ll update as much as I can though.

Still, I’ll share a good manifestation story from subliminals. I wanted to buy an expensive computer microphone but I really couldn’t afford but since I needed one, I was planning to buy a cheaper one with decent specs. I went to the store but on my way there I kept seeing a picture of the microphone I wanted and said I was going to get that microphone and saying things like “Such an awesome microphone but how am I going to fit this thing in my desk?” and such like I already bought. I was listening to a subliminal that improves my material realm as well.

When I arrived to the store, the microphone I was supposed to buy was out of stock and the one I wanted was discounted to a similar price to the microphone I was going to buy. And I had enough leftover money to buy cosmetics.

Hope I can share more stories like this soon.

#law of assumption #loa tumblr #loablr #manifestation #loa blog #affirm and persist #loassumption #loassblog #loa success #subliminals

23 notes · View notes

xxrainshadowsxx · 9 months

Text

Question...?

Oh hey look, it's the return of angst. Jack asks about his dad for the first time. Takes place about two years before Jack meets Oncie.

Rating: K

Warnings: Nothing but angst

You push hair off of your forehead as you bend down to shove more clothes into the washer. It was Saturday, and Saturday meant catching up on chores. That had been your routine for years now.

“Hey, Mom?” Jack’s voice comes from behind you.

“What is it, sweetheart?” you ask, glancing back at him as you get the last of the clothing into the machine. He’s looking quite nervous, twisting his hands, biting his lower lip, and he can’t meet your eyes. His body language sets off your alarm bells immediately. “Jack? Is everything okay?” you ask, much more urgently now.

“Yeah, it’s just… can we talk about something?” he evades, finally looking up at you with pleading eyes. Eyes that were so much like his father’s…

“Of course,” you say before you can become lost in your own thoughts. “Do you want to go to your room so we can have some privacy?”

He just nods, so you take a moment to start the laundry before following him to his room, taking a seat next to him on his bed. “So what’s going on?” you ask him. He was starting to worry you. You’ve never seen him act this way before.

‘Well, it’s…” he pauses, then takes a deep breath as if to steel himself. “It’s about my dad.”

You feel yourself freeze and your senses go numb. Although you knew this question would be coming at some point, no amount of mental preparation could have sufficiently set you up for the reality of hearing it asked. You take your own deep, shuddering breath before answering. “What about him?” You’re shocked by how even your tone is.

“Like, who is he? Why isn’t he around?” Jack asks in a very small voice. “It’s just been you, me, and Aunt Aurora my whole life but… that isn’t normal, is it? Most of the other kids in my class have dads, and I don’t.”

Damn this kid. He’s always been too smart for his own good, but this is a new level even for him. His perception was beyond incredible, and you were going to have to handle this very delicately. You couldn’t insult his intelligence, but you also had to keep in mind that at his core, he was just a very confused seven-year-old.

“Before we start, I need you to understand something,” you say, taking his hands. “You might have questions today that I won’t be able to answer just yet. I’m not trying to hide anything and I won’t lie to you, but your father is a… touchy subject. Please trust that if I don’t tell you something, I’m doing it for your own good, and that you’ll almost certainly find out one day, just not yet. And when you’re older, you’ll understand why I didn’t tell you everything right away. Can you be okay with that? I know this is a lot.”

“Um, yeah. I think that’s okay,” he says, albeit uncertainly, but you can also tell his curiosity has been piqued even further. With a second deep breath on your end, you try and find a good place to start. After a minute of thinking, you land on something.

“The first thing you should know is that your father is not a bad man,” you stress. “I’m not keeping him away because he’s bad. But the reason he isn’t around is because he doesn’t know you exist, baby.”

Jack’s brow furrows. “How does he not know I exist? I don’t understand,” he murmurs.

You close your eyes as you try and figure out how to best explain this. “Even though he’s not a bad person, he made a pretty big mistake, and we broke up. I didn’t find out I was pregnant with you until a little while later. You know babies are in mom’s tummies for nine months, but we don’t always know right away.”

“And once you found out, you didn’t tell him?” Jack asks, making you sigh again.

“Honey, I don’t think he’s in the town. This was right around when the wall was going up, and I think he made it out before he didn’t have a chance anymore. I can’t say for sure if this is what happened since I honestly don’t know, but I’ve never seen him in Thneedville since we broke up. I don’t think he lives here anymore.” It kills you to admit it, but you know it’s true. You’d tried going to his house several times once you’d discovered you were pregnant, and had found it empty every one of those times. You didn’t like to admit it, and you were definitely not going to tell Jack yet, but you think he ran after destroying the trees. It wasn’t a good look for him, but it couldn’t be helped or changed now, so you tried not to dwell on it too much.

“So I’m never gonna meet him? Ever?” Jack’s voice sends another dagger through you. He sounds so heartbroken. You’d worked so hard to provide for him, but this was something you couldn’t give him, no matter how hard you tried or how much you wanted to. He had Aurora, but as good as she was, she wasn’t his dad and never pretended to be. She knew her role was as his aunt, and that was the part she played.

“Sweetie, I don’t know,” you do your best to comfort. “We can’t see the future, and never is a long time. That wall might come down eventually, we don’t know. I don’t want you to completely lose hope, okay?”

Jack slowly nods, looking down at his feet. He’s quiet for a moment, then asks the question that you’ve been dreading more than any other. “What was his name?”

It was such a simple question, and should have had such a simple answer, but of course your situation had to be complicated. You couldn’t protect him from what his father had done forever, but you could put it off until he was ready to hear it. Even if you didn’t tell him the full story yet, there was every chance he could overhear someone talking about what Onceler had done. And if Jack didn’t have a name, he could live in ignorant bliss for a while longer.

“I… I can’t tell you that,” you say hesitatingly. You see his face fall, and hasten to explain as best as you’re able. “And I know you don’t know why, and I wish I could explain it better. I will tell you one day, I promise. It’s just… complicated. I don’t want you to get caught up in it until you’re ready, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” Jack says with a frown.

“I know you don’t,” you sigh. “And I’m doing the best I can to try and help. But do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust that you’ll know more when you’re older. And by then, you’ll understand. It’ll all make sense to you someday,” you promise. As you’re speaking, an idea suddenly hits you. “If you want, I can get you a picture. Would that be a good compromise?” you ask.

That suggestion makes Jack perk up a bit. “Yes, please,” he requests with the barest hint of a smile coming back to him. You give him what you know is a sad smile of your own before pushing yourself off the bed and making your way to the dresser in your own bedroom.

Even though you hadn’t seen this picture in several months, you knew exactly where it was. You tended to only get it out on the anniversary of the day you left, the one day of the year you allowed yourself to mourn. Other than that, you tried to think of him as little as you could, though it proves harder as Jack looks more and more like him every day.

You brush a bit of dust off the frame and give yourself a moment to stare at it. It had been the day you’d started dating him, and had wanted a picture the press couldn’t have. Both of you were happy in this frozen image, not knowing about the heartbreak that would come several months later.

You hug the picture to yourself before taking it back to Jack. Taking yet another deep breath, you hand him the picture, and his deep blue eyes immediately take it in.

“Oh, wow,” he whispers. Looking at both of them, it was more obvious than ever how much Jack resembled his father. And that constant pang in your heart that his father wasn’t here with you grew even stronger. Your son was nothing short of a miracle. His father would have loved him. And it was due to horrible circumstances that you couldn’t fix that were keeping both of them from each other.

“Can I keep this?” Jack asks, breaking a bit of your melancholy. You blink once to bring yourself back to the present moment.

“Yeah, of course,” you answer before you pull him into a tight hug. You loved this kid with your whole heart. Everything you did now was for him.

It’s several minutes before you let each other go. “I think I’m gonna go shoot some hoops at the park,” he decides, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes. You pretend you don’t see as you smile and nod.

“Okay. Be back before five,” you tell him, giving him one last kiss on the top of his head. He grabs his basketball, places the photo carefully on top of his dresser, and heads out of the apartment.

It’s only when the door shuts that you allow the tears you’ve been holding back to spill over, mourning the love you once had.

#fanfiction #onceler fanfiction #onceler x reader #the lorax #the onceler #also on ao3 #onceler

10 notes · View notes

9w1ft · 11 months

Note

I’m a battle hardened kaylor at this point. Last night’s stunts just made me smile and laugh. But I remember what it was like when I was a baby kaylor and was upset every time something happened. There seems to be a lot of baby kaylors these days, which means our population is growing, so thats a positive! My advice to the newbies: becoming a kaylor is like taking a crash course in stoicism, but skipping right to the final exam. If you let these stunts bother you, you’ll be miserable. Just shake it off! We can’t control her, or the hetlors. We can only control who we engage with and our reactions. The sooner one realizes this the better.

(just a footnote for anybody new, baby kaylor is meant affectionately here. it’s how a lot of us describe anyone’s early days as a kaylor. you’ve got the most energy and enthusiasm and you experience the high highs that come with learning about all the lore or seeing something happen real time etc, but you also get the low lows of emotion as well)

yeah i think it’s important to learn to shake a lot of stuff off, like any sense of having to defend things against people who are going to take the opportunity to try and ruin your day, but in terms of bearding idk… i also think its important take it as an opportunity to reframe the way you think about it?

because its kind of what bearding is, historically speaking. so if you make it about morality or if you make every bearding action a bad sign or something to be mad about or sad about, then you’re gonna set yourself up for a world of hurt. bearding has existed in the entertainment industry and otherwise as a way for gay (umbrella term) people to redirect attention away from things they want to protect because of the society that we live in. it’s important of course to lament that society and to hope for a more free future for everyone, but i don’t think it’s something to feel bad about, if that makes sense.

and this isn’t me saying to like, go numb or to uphold the status quo. just to find ways for your pastimes to not get in the way of your life or the energy you need to make the world around you a better place. it can also be a chance to channel emotion you might feel about it into taking actions irl to leave a positive impact. im not sure i’ve ever said this before because i usually keep what i do in my life separate from what i do here, but i remember back in late 2018 i was left feeling very distraught but i took it as an opportunity to step up at work and i joined a team that changed some wording for benefits policies at my company, so as to be explicitly applicable to couples regardless of the gender of both partners (gay marriage is still not fully recognized by every prefecture in japan). there’s some other stuff i did too with that team and i still help them out with translating and stuff, whenever i can be helpful. even if small, i think there a lot of opportunities in our everyday lives to help someone out, even if it’s just helping a family that looks lost at a train station or something. and taking those small actions can help us take charge of our feelings even when the going gets rough. i didn’t mean to end this on a We Are The World type message lolol but i just mean that ultimately this fandom ought to be a place where we can get a little bit of joy out of the things that are joyful, and take other moments to get inspired to take actions in our real lives, where ultimately this pastime of ours is a net positive on our lives… if that makes sense. i think this is true of any hobby in your life, really.

11 notes · View notes

notthestarwar · 1 year

Text

having Jango thoughts on this night

“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”―Fyodor Dostoevsky crime & punishment

(Keep coming across new quotes that make me think about Jango but with this already being soooo long and also the image descriptions not working properly I've decided to try this again with multiple shorter ones split in to themes. Part 1 is here.)

i just… what if you were a man and everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, time and time again. and it happened to you so many times, at such defining points in your life, as you were growing, that it made you in to everything you never wanted to be.

what if you couldn’t allow yourself to feel, what if you ran from yourself and in doing so, were numb to the consequences of your denial. were ignorant of who you were becoming. what if you rationalised the terrible. what if you convinced yourself you were right because to face that you are wrong, that you could be better, is too painful

what if you started on this path, inadvertently. the worst happened to you and you didn’t deserve it. but the person you became after that tragedy, was someone that maybe did deserve each tragedy after it. what if you were your own worst enemy. what if it didnt have to be like this, but it always would have been like this, because this is who you are now.

what if your whole life was defined by surviving the people you loved. what if you kept surviving the unsurvivable, and it left you alone, everytime. what if you could never move past that loss. the grief is a haunting. you should have died and you didnt.

what if nobody hates the man you have become more than yourself. what if you are everything you hate. what if you walk a path of self destruction trying to destroy the person you have become, trying to find the death that escaped you, and until you find that end, everyone else is only collataral damage

what if the person you could have been, in a better world, haunts you. what if you know that those that you grieve, would hate the man you’ve become, the person that loss made you. what if your love for your family, for your people, was corrupted, twisted beyond recognition. something good, made horrific.

what if the idea of facing any of this, the idea of allowing yourself to be something that could once again be loved, terrified you. what if you work to destroy the possibility. what if there was a way out, there were 100 ways out, but you never would allow yourself to take any one. what if, you hurt those that tried to love you, because you couldn’t stand the vulnerability

[and its not letting me insert alt text so i’m gonna reblog with an addition with the desc. plus additional sources i’ve found for some of them that were missing from the og posts]

image descriptions below

what if people want to tell themselves you are a bad man, something evil. less than a person, only a monster. but really, the very worst thing about you is how overwhelmingly human you are. how you are a person that in kinder world, might have been good. how even here, you are still so very human, all of your worst cruelties are fueled by fear. you stand as an example: of something that every person can become. a horror that lives in each of us, a person who does the unimaginable, because it is easier than trying to be good. a person who takes one mistep, and then another, and finds themselves running down a hill.

- LINE BREAK-

tumblr post by longsightmyth Here’s the thing I keep trying to articulate and possibly failing: I don’ actually mind characters who are terrible people. I have enjoyed many. What I mind is characters who are terrible people while the narrative keeps trying to say that they are wonderful, often contradicting what the narrative shows us, with no self awareness

tumblr post by exilley “Doomed by the narrative” is sexy and all but i think the narrative wanting to save a character who is utterly set on dooming themselves isnt as much of a thing and it’s so good as a concept antigonick 5d ago

“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.” -Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

“1. Man is a MORAL animal. 2. You can get human beings to do anything-IF you convince them it is moral. 3. You can convince human beings anything is moral.” - Frank Bidart, excerpt of “In the Ruins”, in Half-Light

“ Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.“ -Anne Carson (Translator), Grief Lessons

tumblr post by supreme-leader-stoat “This story is a tragedy because it didn’t have to end this way.” “This story is a tragedy because it was always going to end this way.” addition by veliseraptor #the best: this story is a tragedy because #there were SO many ways it could have gone differently #but the very fact of the characters” natures precluded any option but the tragedy

tumblr post by manywinged obsessed with the concept of being haunted by yourself addition by manywinged maybe you were someone you hate now, and that person remains a cold hand on your shoulder that says you do not deserve this. perhaps you had to destroy yourself and become someone else to escape something worse - but now they hang over you like a shroud. you abandoned me. everyone did, but you - you were all i had, and you left me to rot. maybe the life you could have had was taken from you-and isn’t that a death of sorts? - and now it shadows your every step. you keep moving further away, but it follows. there’s a ghost after you, and it wears a frighteningly familiar face.

tumblr post by louisegluckpdf best kind of character is ‘guy that didnt die when he should have’ (quotes) “To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.” Anne Carson “I survived myself, my death and burial were locked up in my chest.” Moby Dick, Herman Merville

Walter White: I’ve been to my oncologist, Jesse. Just last week. I’m still in remission. I’m healthy. Jesse Pinkman: That’s good. Great. Walter White: No end in sight. Jesse Pinkman: That’s great. Walter White: No. I missed it. There was some perfect moment that passed me right by, but I had to have enough to leave them. That was the whole point. None of this makes any sense if I didn’t have enough. And it had to be before she found out. Skyler. It had to be before that. Jesse Pinkman: Perfect moment? For what? To drop dead? Are you saying you want to die? Walter White: I’m saying that I lived too long. You want them to actually miss you. breaking bad, fly, dir. rian johnson

“I am someone who did not die when I should have died.” anne carson

tumblr post by: autisticandroids many problems are caused by the mindset that the world is divided into good people and bad people and the bad people can be “found out” and removed, eventually leading to a utopia containing only good people. addition by: andromeda3116 “It was much better to imagine men in some smokey room somewhere, made mad and cynical by privilege and power, plotting over brandy. You had to cling to this sort of image, because if you didn’t then you might have to face the fact that bad things happened because ordinary people, the kind who brushed the dog and told the children bed time stories, were capable of then going out and doing horrible things to other ordinary people. It was so much easier to blame it on Them. It was bleakly depressing to think that They were Us. If it was Them, then nothing was anyone’s fault. If it was Us, then what did that make Me? After all, I’m one of Us. I must be. I’ve certainly never thought of myself as one of Them. No one ever thinks of themselves as one of Them. We’re always one of Us. It’s Them that do the bad things.” –Jingo, by Terry Pratchett

And all of my devotion turns violent (according to google, from boyish by japanese breakfast)

“You are shaking fists & trembling teeth. I know: You did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean you were kind.” (google says: Venetta Octavia “the burning”)

“What a thing, to be both starving and empty. To ache for love- to take the scraps from it’s table, and yet, run sickly from the feast. You can’t fathom why I’d gobble your kisses but duck your attention, please. Understand- Some of us have gone so long hungry, the idea of being full feels worse than the affliction. (LOVE DISORDERS AND OTHER OLD HEARTACHES, by Ashe Vernon)

I was far too scared to hit him But I would hit him in a heartbeat now That’s the thing with anger it begs to stick around So it can fleece you of your beauty And leave you spent with nowt to offer It makes you hurt the ones who love you (google says: sam fender-seventeen going under)

Ivy Walker: Sometimes we don’t do things we want to do so that others won’t know we want to do them.

To feel anything deranges you. To be seen feeling anything strips you naked. In the grip of it pleasure or pain doesn’t matter. You think what will they do what new power will they acquire if they see me naked like this. If they see you feeling. Anne Carson, Red Doc

Tumblr post by: ivipite

“came back wrong” this “lived wrong” that, what about dying wrong. my death will forever cling to you, leaving behind a slimy trail and a metallic taste in your mouth. my soul will forever drag you down like the heavy corpse of a long-dead god, who somehow still grants wishes. you can’t tell which one of us is the one not letting go. you know not even your own death will end this.

post by: papayajuan2019 cruelty is so easy. youre not special for choosing it

post by:mycannibalromance (quotes)

even if you don’t have something anymore, you can be defined by its absence Joan Tierney, free range angel produce

And I want to go home But I am home mountian goats riches and wonders

In a field I am the absence of field. This is always the case. Wherever I am, I am what is missing Mark straind, keeping things whole

the expurgation of a neon sign and the team’s prov sions of the house’s powerful ability to exorcise any and all things from its midst.“F Mark z danielewski house of leaves

But here I touch an open wound: my memory. -rosario castellanos memorandum on tiatelolco tr. maureen ahern

-end of description-

#post editor why do you fight me so #there are like 15 versions of this post at this point none of them work #jango fett #jango #Jango characterisation #this one seems the least broken so i guess i'll tag this version to use for my ref

26 notes · View notes

elaninrecovery · 2 years

Text

Cottage Pie

I learned to make a very simple version of cottage pie when I was around 9 years old.

My mother, a clueless woman in the kitchen, had just gotten married (spoiler alert: it was not a good decision) and decided she suddenly needed to become Stepford enough for this new Rockwell painting her life was finally becoming. A Molly Weasley type woman in our church offered to teach her some recipes and I came along like the chapstick you keep in your purse but never use, something you’re just so used to carrying, you forget it has a purpose.

Of everything we made, my favorite was cottage pie, which my mother decided to call “shepherds pie” (because religious people love to find silly ways to bring Jesus to dinner, even if it’s a misnomer). It was the one thing we kept from that day. My mother would make it for semi-special occasions. It is not really special occasion food, mind you. It’s sloppy and not really very pretty. But it tastes warm and homey. Like Thanksgiving and diner food. Those in-between places where eating feels like it should heal you.

After the divorce, and even as everything got harder and worse and better and somehow even more awful - every so often, we would make the shepherds pie. It was one of the few things my mother would still help me with once I became more duty than daughter. I think it was that last shred of Rockwell she could hold onto. I even learned to make a meatless version when I (and then she) went vegetarian for a while, and still it tasted like it should. Like it could heal some of the aches between us, the widening cracks we tried to ignore. It still tasted like comfort, even as we made it less and less, the magic of its healing no longer able to cover over the patchwork of pain between us.

When I moved across the country, almost 700 days - and a lifetime - ago now, I didn’t think of never making our silly misnamed pie again. I didn’t think I would ever be homesick of a place I’d never felt at home. I didn’t think, 6 months into my move, would be the last time I would ever choose to speak to my mother again. Time and distance are not always kind teachers - but they are good ones. I’ve been in my own apartment for about a year now. I always buy bags of potatoes. I never make the pie. The potatoes go bad in the cabinet, to the point I now keep a paper bag inside for them to sit on, so when they leak, it won’t be gross to clean up.

--- -. .--. ..- .-. .--. --- ... .

Last night, I wanted to make the pie - told myself it was cottage pie now - no longer shepherd. Correctly named, and made in my tiny home with its rainbow light catchers and cacophony of fridge magnets - no shepherd needed. But still, I paused, unsure. Instead, I took the dog for a long walk in nearly freezing weather, my face numb from the wind when we returned, still too much California in me to remember my scarf.

I whined downstairs at the girls who work at the restaurant my apartment building shares a lobby with, the girls who are now my friends even though I still don’t understand how, complaining about making the pie and wondering if I should just order takeout instead. The youngest, a lovely sunshine girl named Autumn, who is about 10 years my junior, said she’d never had cottage pie - had always wanted to try it. I laughingly said she could come up after her shift and have some if she wanted, thinking she’d joke back and I’d order delivery, the potatoes rotting in the cabinet. But as I went to walk away she stopped me, said she was serious if I was going to make it. One of the other girls jumped in too, asked if there would be enough. The last of them said she would take some home if I had enough to spare. I agreed and bounced my way upstairs.

I turned on my Cooking Music playlist, and sang along with Dean Martin and Ella Fitzgerald about love and time as I peeled the potatoes, cutting out eyes that had started to grow. I made gravy from scratch for the first time ever, mixing and tasting, mixing and tasting - like an Italian grandmother, nothing measured, all of it by feel. Until it tasted like it should - but better. Different than before, still like comfort but not like loss. I made brownies because I could. Tossed them into the oven at the same time, like someone who had their life together. Like I knew what I was doing.

The girls came up, one at a time, curling up on my lime green sofa and laughing at my silly dog requesting pets and bringing them squeaker toys that were nearly bigger than him. Listening to me chatter and telling me we should have a Galentines party together in my apartment. “No its not too small! We can totally fit 4 or 5 of us in here no problem” they told me when I questioned if my 400 sq ft apartment was really where they wanted to hang out (really offering them an ‘out’ to spending time with me, even though they’d been the ones to suggest it).

They ate as I puttered around, unable to stop moving, trying to find distance - not used to people so close to me. They told me I was being silly as they tugged me warmly between them on my sofa, sharing tv trays so the dog couldn’t steal our food. They cleaned their bowls entirely, forks scraping for every last bite as we chattered about workplace shenanigans and memories and video games. Autumn told me she was going to tell her mom about it, thought she might like to make it for their family, asked if she could maybe get my recipe next week. I nodded. “Of course.”

It tasted the same. Kind of. Like comfort.

But it wasn’t a bandaid or a balm, it didn’t need to soothe an ache or offer a reprieve. It wasn’t trying to be beautiful.

But it did taste like healing. Like something finally coming together in a place I didn’t realize had been empty.

#recovery #self healing #healingjourney #stream of consciousness #writing #journal #making new friends #making new core memories #creating a life I love #learning #personal growth

11 notes · View notes

urlocalmentallyunstablegal · 1 year

Text

long rant incoming, i’ll be talking abt therapy, ed relapse mainly (i may get side tracked lol) really just talking to myself publicly.

so, my therapist is taking a break and i haven’t seen her since last month. she told me to text her if i need support or if i’m in crisis but we all know i’m not gonna do it bc i don’t wanna bother her. last month i managed to reach 3 months without counting calories and stepping on the scale. honestly i was so proud of myself for this. ofc i gained weight but i was finally healthier, i was not just a shell of a human being. i was actually alive. but since i stopped restricting my anxiety become terrible to the point where i can’t go out by myself without headphones. i started getting more frequent panic attacks (which are honestly both physically and mentally draining). i feel like im trapped in a cycle - i manage my depression and anxiety, then i relapse in my ed, i work on my ed, my anxiety gets worse, i use all kinds of relief techniques, nothing helps, so i relapse again to numb my emotions. the day of my last therapy session i had to go to my hometown bc we had to do some renovations for the apartment we’re giving out for rent. we had to stay in a family friend’s house. i love her but she’s just so insensitive to me and my struggles. like she’d constantly say things like “oh your hygiene is terrible” “oh are you really eating this”. of course she had to make comments about my body and how i’ve gained weight, she also asked what happened with the diets i was doing. while we were there we met with my dad’s aunt and she also made comments about my body and how i’ve gained weight. and the thing is i was having pretty bad time with my body without all these comments from my relatives. i genuinely felt so uncomfortable about the weight gain. the day after we got back home i relapsed. i’m counting calories again, i’m avoiding high cal foods, fear foods start to appear again. i was in denial about my relapse but now i have to admit it - i’m relapsing and i hate myself even more. i genuinely feel like i’m such a failure. i’ve spent over 2 years in therapy and it’s all the same cycle over and over. i’m forever grateful for my current therapist bc she saved me from the darkest times of my life. i was actively suicidal and she was the only one who agreed to work with me despite my resistance to get better. i don’t remember much of this time period but she has told me that she was worrying about me in between sessions and every time i was 5 mins late she thought of the worse situation possible. anyways. now i just feel like i’m wasting my time and her time. what am i even doing? will things ever get better? and the thing is i want to recover at some point. this lifestyle is not sustainable. the health complications are not a joke. i’ve ruined so many relationships bc of my mental illness. i’m missing out on so many things. but i’m just terrified of letting it all go. i can’t deal with the weight gain. i can’t deal with all the emotions. what’s the point of even trying to recover when i’ll always end up in the exact same shitty situation?

4 notes · View notes

emilemily · 1 year

Text

I don’t know what’s wrong with me and the doctors have no clue

I’ve always had bad blood circulation since I was a child. I vividly remember standing in the kitchen with my mother helping her cook and her pointing to my feet telling me “your legs and feet are beet red” and they’d feel itchy

In the last few months that has turned to red and purple with numb tingles yet an itchy feeling. I’ll compare my arm to my legs and it’s night and day. Red and purple with white spots. I have veins Neely enlarged and bulging on my right leg

I have such severe fatigue I rarely leave my bed because when I stand up I get so lightheaded and dizzy my vision goes black and I fall to the floor where I lay, blinking until the dark static clears and I can get myself up again. My heart rate spikes in the moment I go from laying down to standing

My hair is falling out more and I don’t have an appetite anymore. I have to force myself to eat and even so, cooking is difficult because standing to do so causes my legs to go red and purple and I get dizzy. I’ve moved a chair into the kitchen which helps, but at the same time my fatigue is so bad that my arms feel as if they weigh 30 pounds along with my legs. I’ve lost a lot of weight.

I run low grade fevers at night. I get tremors in my legs, weird involuntary movements. Sometimes my brain is confused. I drop things often which I never did before.

My chest feels tight, as if I have 1000 pounds of weight on it and I struggle to get a deep breath most days. Even walking into the next room leaves me winded as if I just went for a stroll outside.

My legs and feet & arms and hands are always cold no matter the temperature of the room or what I’m wearing. Even when I have a blanket on.

This is so sudden and abrupt. The last 6 months it really started. I went from relatively healthy to whatever this is, and I’m realizing I’m not truly depressed. I’m just fatigued and not well and it’s hard to be super happy when you struggle to just take your dogs for a walk.

When I walk my schnauzers I start getting chest pains and realize that my heart is beating so fast I’m surprised it doesn’t stop. I squat down and rest and it slows down until I stand again

Read all about how many people with similar symptoms die within 10 years and it was sort of sobering.

I’m not sure if I’m going to live to see 40 and be the bad bitch mom I always wanted to be. The mom to break generational curses. The mom to help guide my children into being what I never had the resources to be.

Or the loving wife I always wanted to be.

Or the woman I’ve dreamed of becoming.

If I die young, I’ll have died only knowing this short life filled with a lot of unhappiness, trauma, substance abuse, general unease, and uncertainty about my future.

And that is what haunts me. I was always so terrified of growing old, and now I’m staring an untimely death in the face.

It may happen, it may not. I’m not scared of it anymore. Sometimes it feels relieving because the weight of this world has always been so heavy. I have no idea how to exist as others do. I never have.

I am an incredibly broken human being. One that struggles to heal. Some believe that negativity in life manifests in physical ailments.

Created a plan for calling the ambulance should I go into cardiac arrest or stroke. I’ve been coached on all the symptoms to watch out for. Today I felt chest pain and some pain down the right side of my jaw as I brushed my teeth. I was terrified for a moment and sat down and it went away.

That was one of the signs I’m supposed to watch for, but I didn’t do anything about it. It’s almost like I’m more scared to live through a stroke and be a vegetable than of death itself.

Missed my Dr. appt last week because I forgot what day it was. It has been pushed to August because Medicaid is backed up beyond all reason currently.

If I continue to see increased severity as I have the last week or so, I’m just going to go to the ER and ask them to run whatever tests they can and please help me. Maybe they’ll be more useful than my doctors. Maybe they won’t. I don’t care how much debt I rack up there anymore. I don’t care.

If I’m going to die, so be it. But I want to know about it first. I want to make peace with my demons and my whys and my woes. I want to make peace with the things I’ve always pushed off. I want time to accept that I’m not going to live a long life.

I want to write poetry about the family I will never have, about the love I’ve felt and lost in this life, about those who crossed me, about my dogs, about the people who unconditionally loved me, about the people who didn’t, about my mom.

Every time I call her she tells me I don’t look good and urges me to go to the ER. She cries and yells “Emily, don’t you know you could die?!”

Mama, trust me. I’m more aware of that than anyone given the fact that I live inside this faulty meat suit. I feel the indicators of that every single day.

The check engine light only came on a few months ago. I just need more time to sort out what’s wrong with it.

Either way, I feel peace in a way. Whatever the outcome, I’ve fought like hell to get right here where I am, even if here isn’t perfect.

I’d hoped to have achieved more if I was going to kick in at this age. But I’ll take what I got.

Nighty night

#undiagnosed #circulation #heart problems #disease #personal

2 notes · View notes

bellevvalencia · 1 year

Text

All things considered

When I think about how I’m right here, right now, still laughing and feeling and trying, I think about the innate mechanism of humans that alert them on what they need to do to survive.

You live to fight another day.

There was no time to think. In March, I was jammed into the team’s most complicated system that I had to get within a week. I was coming in at 8 and leaving at 8. I had been juggling operations that I barely understood in one hand, and my dev work that was way far from the finish line in my other hand. It was just not enough.

In April, I went to three different funerals in three weeks. I was sad and numb and stressed. It was also scary how more accepting I have become about death, both actual and make-believe. (Because, like many of us, I assume, I have relatives who are fucking dead to me). I was on the road most of the time, balancing the responsibilities I have at work and at home on the tip of my nose, while indulging on the side with my best friends.

It’s probably why in May, oh my God, in May, I just felt high. Like nothing matters anymore and I can be anything. I was a shapeshifter. I was Belle and Belly and Andrea all at the same time. I fixed and broke. I stayed silent and laughed aloud. I came and went. I took on anything and killed it.

But the moment I sat down with a one-on-one with Rafa, my infamous 24-year-old supervisor, I realized I had the same problem that I had three months ago, back when I felt way less at-home at the office.

“Have a point-of-view,” he said. “Write that down.”

I couldn’t give him anything - not a want or a need or a direction. I could only tell him that I’m okay and I like what I’m doing, and I could only ask him to give me three more months to figure it out. Figuring out a clear view of what I want to do is such a pain in my ass. Everyone knows I’ve always been like this. In high school, in college, all I’ve ever known was I’d take anything that I could get, simply because my reality is I didn’t grow up with a dream.

I wanted life to be simple. Happy with my family and friends, and able to spend time with them as long as I can.

All things considered, everything’s turning out well. I sat on a coaching session one slow Monday with Jerome, our CEO, and when I told him that my stressor was that I had no idea what to chase after, he cut me off almost immediately.

“Got it. Nobody truly knows what they want.”

I smiled, glimpsing at Rafa then, because it felt validating, like I was right to feel that way, at 22. Although it also felt bad, because I knew it would be more work for him, helping this stupid fresh grad create her own point-of-view. Some people won’t ever have this problem. They’d know what the hell they wanted to do. Most importantly, this shouldn’t even be a concern for Rafa, for someone else. And yet, because we’re a tight, neurotic team, it is.

If you think about it, it’s a concern mostly for me, but is it weird that I’m not that bothered?

It’s too bad I don’t have enough time to think, then.

All things considered, everything’s turning out well. Can you believe they gave me a fucking raise? I still don’t know if I deserve it. What did I even do? I just did what everyone told me to! It’s always so hard to find grace when you don’t have the time to think. Maybe someday, in three more months, along with a point-of-view, I’ll figure it out.

Everyone is lying when they say college is the hardest part. It’s not. Leaving college is the hardest part. You’re starting anew. You’re making your own choices. No profs to pick, no grades to get. Hell, if you want, you can pretty much just stop. It’s what makes it so scary. The world becomes your oyster. You can do anything. And yet, you can’t. You can never do it all. Nobody truly knows what they want. The only way through is to accept it, live with it. You can never live up to your expectations, even though you don’t know what those expectations are.

That’s how you know you’re doing well. Even though you will never ever believe that.

It’s just how it is for people like us.

So I guess, when I think about today, all things considered: complicated systems, death, life, responsibilities, indulgement, missing directions, and tree-tall highs and ocean-deep lows...I think about how the hell everything is turning out pretty well.

2 notes · View notes

gamma-gal-24 · 1 year

Note

LEAPS AT YOU. i live again i missed you!!! 😭 i’m sorry i’ve been gone for so long how have you been??? 💞

ALSO: for the heart prompt, perhaps a mutual pining kiss for bradley/stella??? 👀

CATCHES YOU HUGS YOU SQUEEZES YOU YOU LIVE AGAIN!! IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU MY FRIEND!! I have missed you, too!! Things are going pretty well right now! I hope all is well for you, too! ^^ We’ll have to do some catching up soon! <3

And without any further delay,(because I am totally totally late already XD), here we go! ^^

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

Bradley x Stella (mutual pining <3)

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

It had been about three months since the two of them had first bumped into one another, and the two had been all but inseparable since. At first they simply had a knack for catching each other in passing, offering a little wave or, in Bradley’s case, a flirty grin. But very quickly they found themselves starting to go out of their way to “coincidently” be at the right place at the right time. Before either one knew it, they had established a schedule of sorts, without even meaning to. And neither one had truly realized what they had done.

So here they were again. Every day at about two o’clock, Stella left her culinary class and went to sit outside by the water fountain. She never planned on it becoming a habit, but certain circumstances prohibited her from stopping this routine of sorts. And now that very circumstance stood leaning oh-so-cooly against her favorite spot, a skateboard under his arm and a pink daisy between his fingers.

Oh, the smile that got him. And he looked up just in time to see it.

To Bradley at least, Stella had one of those smiles that made the world feel right again. In a life full of endless competition, bad ideas, and drama, she had a way of hiding it all in a pretty little box somewhere behind her smiling eyes. And while he didn’t feel it was appropriate to say it, he loved that about her dearly.

Upon meeting her grinning gaze, he perked up with a dazzling one of his own. The sparks flitting around in each of their chests was invisible to the other, though bright and brilliant as they were. He offered her a slender hand, slightly scratched and red from a short fall he had taken off of his board a few hours before. He thought nothing of it. The scratches and scars he had acquired over his years of extreme sports had to be within the hundreds if not thousands. He was almost numb to it by now. Stella, however, saw the angry redness and torn skin on his palm and flinched back. She was afraid to touch it. What if it still hurt?

Bradley cocked his head to the side, unsure of what the holdup was.

“Hey, what’s the matter, princess? I’m not gonna bite ya!” He chuckled, holding his hand out a little farther. Stella smiled softly back. Rather than slipping her hand into his like she always did, she cupped it between hers. “You scraped your hand today!” She pointed out, looking from his little wound to his eyes and back again. “Does it hurt?”

Bradley laughed, a bright, musical noise on her ears. “No, are you kidding? I can’t even feel it!” He beamed, moving to throw his arm around her, pulling her close. “It’s cute that you worry, Honey, but it takes a lot more than a little scuff to hurt me much.”

This tough city boy had Stella melting in his arm. Her face now a shade or two brighter than her pink tee-shirt. She felt silly, but oh so happy at that moment. “Well, if you’re sure.” She said, resting her head on his berry-clad shoulder. “Just promise you won’t let me accidentally hurt you worse than you hurt yourself on that board of yours.”

That earned her another sweet laugh from the Uppercrust. “Stella, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He half-whispered, his face donning its signature self-assured smirk. “Now, since we’re both done with classes for the day and I don’t have anywhere to be, why don’t we take a walk? I know how much you like those dogwood trees down Frat Row.”

Now that was an offer she couldn’t refuse. He watched as her head popped up off of his shoulder, blue eyes lighting up at the proposition. That just made him feel all the better about himself, the smug punk.

“I’d love that! But… What if your friends see us? They won’t tease you too bad will they?” Stella asked, unsure of how the Gammas would take seeing their president hanging around with anybody but a social elite. Bradley however, shooed away the mere thought with a shake of his head. “The only thing they’ll be thinking is, “God, I wish that were me.” He smirked, giving her a squeeze and starting off their walk. Stella giggled into her hand, wrapping her free arm around the small of his back. “Ah yes, I’m sure they wish you would take them for walks through the flowers-” “That’s not what I meant, you Goof!” Bradley cut her off with a laugh. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment just from the thought. “I think I’d rather sign myself up for war before I’d walk any of those idiots anywhere.”

Stella just laughed and shook her head. “Uh-huh, suuuure you would.~ No offense Bradley, but I think you’d change your mind as soon as they go to shave off that pretty hair of yours.” She giggled, proud of her rebuttal. Bradley conceded with a bow of his head. “Touche, Miss Harper, touche. Although…” He started, raising his head back up with a slick grin. “I didn’t realize you thought my hair was pretty!~”

This battle of compliments, jokes, and flushed faces continued all the way to the start of Frat Row.

They stopped at the big sign off to the side of the road for just a moment. The pretty, blossoming spring trees swayed ever so softly in the light breeze, casting their pink and white petals all about. Stella just watched for a moment, completely enamored. Bradley did the same, only…

It wasn’t the trees that captured his attention, nor was it them that brought on what had to be the sweetest smile he had ever worn.

Bradley had always prided himself on keeping the infectious sappiness of puppy-love out of his own reach. He messed around with girls for sure, but that was more of a status symbol than anything. A one-night fling for a frat party was a completely different world from what he felt now with this one girl. Slowly but surely, this sweet acquaintance, this friend, this crush had taken his one-man world and made room for two. It was a bittersweetness he’d come to love.

As he sifted through his own thoughts, Bradley nearly hadn’t noticed Stella shifting her attention back to him, her smile sweet as ever, cheeks still pink. Smiling still himself, he put his thoughts on hold. Heaven knew they weren’t going anywhere. “So, shall we then?” He urged with a subtle bow, playing up the charms as per usual.

He had expected a brisk nod or maybe even a, “yes please,” but was instead met with a sudden anxiousness. She couldn’t look him in the eyes, and her smile had fallen. What was the matter?

“Hey… Everything okay, Stellz?” He asked, a faint, unfamiliar lurch of worry in his chest. Finally, Stella nodded, seemingly breaking herself out of her own thoughts just as he had. “Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine! I was just thinking is all…” Her bashful little face was just too sweet. “Oh? What were you thinking about?” Bradley asked, slipping his arm from around her shoulders, consequently causing hers to slip off of him.

Now he stood between Stella and the trees. And oh, what a wonderful mistake that was. He had unknowingly stepped into what looked like a scene in a fairytale to poor Stella. This handsome young man with his gorgeous blue eyes and his stupid smug grin, a few stray flower petals blowing around behind him and landing in his hair- It was almost too beautiful for her to stand. He was like a prince in her eyes. A perfect prince charming.

And now she had lost her voice in the wonder of it all.

“Um.. I- You just…” She stuttered and stumbled over herself, shifting from her left foot to her right. “Y-you look nice…” Was all she could spit out before her head dropped in shame. She would never ever be as smooth as Bradley.

The smoothtalker in question bit back a chuckle, afraid that she might take his amusement as an insult. He took a deep breath to push back his giggles before gently taking her right cheek in his scratched-up hand, the same one she had refused to hold in fear of hurting him.

“Thank you, Stella, but I don’t look half as nice as you do right now.” He cooed, his thumb lightly grazing the soft skin under her eye. Those very eyes were wide and bright, obviously taken aback. “A-are you sure about that?” She half giggled, unconsciously taking a baby step closer to his body. He too caught himself slowly inching closer to her, the space between their noses narrowing. He hummed a quiet affirmation, the two of them inching towards closing the gap. Neither one was completely sure what they were doing, all they knew was that it felt right.

Before they knew it, two pairs of eyes had fluttered closed, and two pairs of lips met in the middle in what could only be described as the perfect first kiss. Stella’s hand rested against the one caressing her cheek, the other finding its resting place on Bradley’s shoulder. Bradley pulled back with a smile. And just as he was about to lean back in, the two of them were interrupted but a mix of faux sniffles and chuckles.

Startled, they pried apart and snapped their heads to the side to see what was happening. Once they realized what they were seeing, the two of them grew pale in the face.

They had been caught… By the entire Gamma team. And Goofy was holding a camera.

#AHHH I had wayyy too much fun with this!! 😭💓💞#TYSM JESTER #ILY ILY I MISSED YOU AND ILY #Selfship asks #StellaxBradley #An extremely goofy movie OC #OcxCanon

5 notes · View notes