#idk how clear it is from this post but i am very scared of all flying insects. i’m a little more chill with bees because i know they don’t

[strongheartneteyam]

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to @cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems 

Part 4

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: sexual language, angst, past relationship trauma, touching in a sexual way, commitment issues, mentions of sex, trust issues, neteyam is head over heels for reader, fluff, a bit more about when neteyam and reader would see each other around before the beach party, mentions of drinking too much, reader is allergic to romantic feelings (but it's actually just her trauma talking), confessions of feelings, yearning, sexual tension, some funny vibes, heartbroken neteyam. Not sure if there's more. If there is, pls, tell me <3

Hi, hunny bunnies 💕 I'm really tired and sleepy rn (as I always am, right? lol) but I got inspo and finally got a break from my writer's block so I just rushed to wash the dishes as fast as I could and as soon as I finished it I ran to finish writing this chapter (a part of it had been sitting on my Google Docs for a while lol) and now I'm posting for you guys 🥰 Hope y'all like it and I'm so sorry for any mistakes or some parts that might not make total sense (if there are any lol who knows). I'm so sleepy that idk if I'll be able to proofread it completely now. But I will soon! Leaving comments down below will make this writer as happy as a kitten drinking milk teehee 😸 I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH kiss kiss ‼️💌

Slightly proofread.

Part 3: I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

𓇼

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

Midnight Rain (Taylor Swift)

𓇼

You woke up with a ray of sun shining way too bright directly at your eyes. You realized with a startle that you were in Neteyam’s arms and as you slowly became aware of your surroundings and your memory became clear… oh, shit… You had sex with him last night. No, no! Why did you drink those three glasses of champagne last night? Everytime you drank too much you ended up doing something stupid. Of course last night would not be an exception.

You could feel his slender, soft but toned legs intertwining with your much smaller ones. You felt his warmth, his strong arms holding your tiny in comparison figure, helping you stay warm even if the ocean breeze was chilly so early in the morning in Awa'atlu.

Neteyam's heart was big, very big when compared to the one of a human male, so, as he peacefully slept while embracing you, you could hear his heartbeat extremely clearly. It was soothing, though. A little louder than the human guys you had been intimate with previously and had slept by their side but it was calming. His embrace felt comfortable, like a place you could… call home…?

You felt a stab in your heart. Anxiety. Nervousness. Almost like a fight or flight feeling. No, you could not be getting attached.

His scent was good, cozy and you could easily get used to having it all over you, to wake up to that, to smell it on your clothes so very often.

And that thought scared you. Saying you had commitment issues was an understatement.

You felt Neteyam moving behind you. He was slowly waking up.

"Morning, oeyä sevin syulang" (my beautiful flower) His voice was hoarse as he had just woken up and he had a heavy na'vi accent when pronouncing the "R" in "morning". His accent lured you in way more than you liked to admit. 

You hated how much Neteyam could make you feel vulnerable. You did not like the feeling of vulnerability.

Everytime you let a guy get on your vulnerable side before, you ended up sobbing while sitting on the floor, listening to a stupid, sad break up song and, sometimes, stuffing your stomach with chocolate, ice cream or pizza. And that was when you were able to eat. Sometimes the lump in your throat was so big you couldn't even swallow without being reminded of the pungent ache in your heart.

"Morning." You said nervously. It sounded dry. You did not mean to sound rude or distant but you ended up sounding exactly like that.

“Did you sleep well, tawtute?” Neteyam asked, his eyes still half lidded and he was smiling tenderly at you

Damn, you had to admit he was freaking cute when all sleepy like this. Just like a house cat waking up from a good deep sleep…

Ok, stop it!

“Uh… yes. Yes, I did sleep well. Thank you.” God, how awkward was that?

It seemed like Neteyam was too mesmerized by you to even notice your awkwardness.

“You’re beautiful. My sevin tawtute.” he said

“Wait, what?! Yours?!” you protested, a frown on your face

“Yeah.” Neteyam smiled, a bit sheepishly “Did I make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” his expression looked like he was being sincere

“It’s okay.” it was all you said

“I wanna tell you something.” Neteyam said, smiling softly though he was afraid of your reaction once he said what he wanted to say

“What in hell could he want to tell me? Oh, God…” you thought

“I…” he hesitated for a while. Was he getting shy? “I’m in love with you, (y/n).”

“You’re what?!” You sat up on the hammock in a swift motion

“See?! I should have never come here to meet him in the first place. That’s what you get for following your instincts and not your rational brain.” those words ran through your anxious mind

“Hey.” Neteyam said as he sat up too, trying to calm you down as you truly seemed alarmed. He smiled but you could tell there was tension all over him too. “Hear me out, please.” He pleaded. His tone was as calm as he could manage to keep it. “I just didn’t want to tell you because I could tell you’re afraid of falling in love. I’ve heard you talking to your girl friends about boys, about your lame ex boyfriends and how they made you want nothing to do with relationships anymore.”

“Were you spying on me?” You said, incredulous

“No, tawtute!” Neteyam chuckled at your accusation “It’s not like we’ve never been close to each other before the party. I know you’ve seen me before when you came to my tribe to conduct your scientific researches. I always made an effort to be around you, I just never approached you but I never tried to hide the fact that I had a crush on you. I was always staring at you. And I know you noticed!” He chuckled “One time you caught me staring from afar and met my gaze but you soon looked away and after that I started feeling like you were avoiding looking in my eyes again. Was I right?” he questioned, with his brows furrowed but he still didn’t seem to feel defeated. Even after you had reacted like you were afraid of his words, Neteyam still had his lips curled up in a slight smile.

You looked at him with eyes that let him know you were trying to conceal your embarrassment. You did know Neteyam had noticed you had been trying to avoid him at all costs as soon as you noticed he seemed to be attracted to you but having him throw that fact in your face felt surprisingly uncomfortable and your cheeks did get a little pinkish.

“Maybe I was.”

“Of course you were. Everybody noticed. Lo’ak even made fun of me for that.” he shook his head from side to side while chuckling at the thought of his younger brother teasing him

"I'm sorry." You couldn't help but laugh a little bit

"Don't apologize. It's fine. I like a challenge." He smirked at you in a flirtatious way

"Neteyam, I think we should-"

"Just let me tell you everything I need to, please!" He interrupted, almost begging you

You sighed "Okay…" You sounded tired and a little annoyed

"After I got a good chance to talk to you last night, at the party, I fell for you. Hard. It's not just a crush anymore." His pretty face looked happy while he confessed his feelings for you, even if there was a little bit of angst inside his chest "I didn't bring you here to my hammock just to fuck you. I brought you here to make love to you. It wasn't just sex for me. I wanna ask you to be my mate. I hope you don't run away scared now… 'Cause that would kill me, my sevin tawtute. You're so perfect... I wanted you last night and I know I will want you forever. Please, please, let me be your mate. Or your husband, as you humans say. I know it's unexpected and it seems too soon, but this is our way. My people don't necessarily have to know someone for a long time before choosing them to be their mate." He explained to you "I don't want to ever be away from you. I couldn't. Not now that I have talked to you, laughed with you, laid next to you…" He brushed his warm hand through the outer part of your thigh, moving it upwards "Felt your pussy around my cock, so soft and inviting, so warm and wet inside, all for me..." Neteyam's breath was a bit labored, his hand still touching your skin, while he whispered those dirty words to you, remembering what you two had done while it was still eclipse "Please, be mine." 

"It'd be great." You said. Neteyam smiled widely, not being able to grasp the real meaning of your words "But it could never work. Not between you and me. Not between a na'vi and a human. I'm so sorry. I have to go. My friends must be worried about me. I didn't tell Adeline where I was going before I left last night. She must be worried sick. See you around. I guess..." You said, as you got out of Neteyam's big hammock, as fast as you could, feeling the warm beach sand covering your toes as soon as your feet hit the ground, leaving Neteyam confused, still trying to wake up from his wishes and touch reality.

He knew you were afraid of committing to a lifelong relationship but he thought that maybe you would say "yes" to what he was proposing to you. Or that you would at least ask for some time to think. Neteyam did not think you would reject him so fast and bluntly like that. Especially since he was used to having girls crushing on him and throwing themselves at him all the time. Not only na'vi girls, there were many human girls who tried to seduce him as well but even though he did feel attracted to some of them, he felt that there was always something missing. Neteyam did value personality a lot, even if he was just going to mess around with the girl, and none of the other human girls had a personality that he truly liked. But you did. And of course you would be the one to reject him. His ego was screaming like a spoiled little brat at that moment as he laid back at his hammock, throwing his body with full force against its surface and exhaling strongly in frustration.

There was a lump in his throat and his heart was hurting like never before. No girl had ever made Neteyam feel that way. All he wanted was for you to accept him, to want to be with him.

𓇼

Taglist:

@iman-lu

@leaveitbythewave

@creepytoes88

@live-laugh-neteyam

@swaggygurlbae

@neteluvr

@layla2-49

@a-blog-name-2003 (you left a cute comment on the last chapter so I figured you'd like to be tagged ♡ lemme know if I'm right in the comments pls lol)

@lala-1516 (you also left a nice comment on the last chapter so I'm tagging you baby <3 lemme know if u want me to keep tagging u)

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@yeosxxx

@iaratezaewa

[jaegersdevil]

like real people [megumi fushiguro]

megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: love can still find you even in your darkest hour. w/c: 1.7k a/n: megumi and reader are in their early/mid-twenties. this is a little different from anything else i’ve written in terms of the language, but i think i'm happy with it. i'm a bit scared to post this. i hope it makes sense, and if it doesn't, tell me, please :) warnings: angst, idiots in love, both parties emotionally hurt by past relationships, insinuations of past relationship abuse (megumi), ooc megumi, it's 4am idk please let me know.

“Is it so wrong to wish to love and be loved in return?” 

No words came before you. To say you weren’t expecting this conversation would be a lie — it was a long time coming. After the party, after you had blatantly brushed him off in front of his friends, Megumi couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for why you did what you did. After months of dancing around each other, why couldn’t you commit to what you wanted when it was so very clear, Megumi?

“Megumi,” You weren’t oblivious to his lovelorn stare or his fingers fidgeting.

“Please,” He begged, stepping closer to you, his hands clasped before him. 

You screwed your eyes shut at his vulnerable state. Was it easier to remain ignorant of your apparent and lengthy tension? Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so guilty about the impulse to leave.

But, standing before a man who had a hard time sharing his emotions and choosing to ignore them rather than help? You wouldn't do such a thing.

“It’s not wrong, per se, Megs,” You started, eyes trained on the hardwood floor, never meeting his pleading ones. “Maybe naive.” 

A sharp intake caused a shiver down your spine. “Naive?” 

You chewed heavily on your bottom lip and couldn't keep your tears at bay. "I just learned you planned to get engaged when we met, Megumi. What was I meant to do? I didn't want your friends to think I was exploiting your emotions. How I never knew until now..."  

Megumi sighed and looked away, shaking his head. He wanted to say that meeting you saved him. How you dug him out of the ground and breathed life into his delicate lungs brought him back to life. If you had never met, he would still be six feet in the dirt, a ghost of who he once was. Do people love others who have been damaged so severely that the idea of love itself is considered terrifying and not comforting in the slightest? 

"You know they wouldn't think that of you. And I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed and afraid. I know that isn't a good enough excuse for you because you've been in my life for so long, but it was better to keep it quiet. I don't know!"

He tried to keep his voice steady, always one to hold back his true feelings until he was behind closed doors — and even then, he would force them back inside.

But, as he looked at you, Megumi believed the possibility of admitting he loved you was far closer than anticipated. However, the fear you wouldn’t reciprocate burned in his bones so profoundly he feared they would turn to ash inside him. All he wanted was to love and be loved without the devastating consequences he had suffered before — if love without pain existed. 

Nonetheless, Megumi couldn't seem to shake the feeling of emptiness that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“Will we ever be normal? Will we ever kiss like real people do? Will I ever get to hold you without the looming fear that you’ll just pack up and leave?” He thought out loud.

A flight risk. You gave him a bitter smile and nodded.

“That’s all I am to you? Someone that you’re scared to be with because I’ve never ‘stuck around’ for anyone else? Do you ever wonder why I left them?” You raised your eyebrows in question. When Megumi didn’t answer, you finished. “Because they were assholes who just wanted someone to use, and I was at their disposal.”

Megumi grimaced at your choice of words but understood. It had taken him almost a year, but he finally understood your greatest anxieties. “I would never use you.” 

You sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I know that, but I'm still paranoid. Leave before you get left, isn’t that what they say?” 

The room was silent for a moment while you both collected yourselves. In contemplation, Megumi ran his hands over his dark hair, and you picked at your nails. 

“I’m sorry,” Megumi mumbled, wiping at his cheeks where stray tears had left salty trails. “I’m sorry for offending you. I didn’t mean it like that. My anxiety is not on you at all; it’s not your fault, and I’ll apologise for the rest of my life if that will make up for my sheer ignorance.” 

You shrugged half-heartedly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. It’s not true. Love is humanity’s greatest desire, and you are entirely valid for wanting such things, especially after your ex..." You narrowed your eyes at him softly.

Unspoken words hung in the air like smoke. His past relationship was calamitous, and her name was never spoken amongst his friends again after they found out what had happened. She was referred to as ‘she who must not be named’ in his friend group, but that was the only joke. Nothing she did to Megumi was laughable. 

The kitchen light was flickering, you noticed. You'd have to change the bulb.

“I bet you regret meeting me,” He smiled fleetingly. You looked at him quizzically. “Anyone else wouldn’t be insulting you in your kitchen.” 

“I'll never regret meeting you, Megumi,” You took his hand in yours. “And you didn’t insult me. Yes, it hurts, but it’s a harsh truth I have to swallow. I have to understand that not everyone is out to get me. It'll take some time, but I wish to get there someday.”  

“And I'll help you believe that, okay? I won't leave you. Not now, not ever, because you are my favourite person, darling. And should I ever leave you, let me die the most painful death because you deserve a great deal of love — more than I could ever give you, but I will try my best, alright?” 

You nodded, reeling with the weight of his words. He spoke with such comprehension it had you reeling — had he ever confessed his feelings for someone like this before? So thought out and with a pleading look in his eye that made your chest hurt?

Instead of wondering about him, you pulled Megumi closer by his jacket collar, which you realised he never took off when he got to your apartment. Pushing the jacket over his shoulders, you placed the garment on the kitchen counter. Your tear-stained cheeks were glossy under the yellowing ceiling light, and Megumi pulled you back to him, running his fingers over your face to wipe away the streams.

A switch flipped, and suddenly, it felt like the world would end if Megumi didn't tell you his deepest longings. He would lose you if he didn't express how much he had come to care for you. You couldn't take chances in a world full of Jujutsu, especially when the one you loved was tiptoeing the line of death every day.

“I don’t want to not be with you, and it was never my intention to insinuate that. I have a lot of love to give, but I’ve given it to the wrong people in the past who never acknowledged or appreciated it. But I’m ready to give it to you,” Megumi muttered. It required abundant courage to say it, but Megumi was glad he didn’t hold back once it was out — his father would be disgusted if he saw his son now.

The room's atmosphere had changed dramatically, and all hostility once felt in your stomach had dissipated. This was a time of reassuring each other that their greatest fears would not trouble them as long as they were together. 

“I adore you,” Megumi whispered, his heart beating out of his chest. “And I’m not just saying that because of our argument. I’m telling you that I never meant for us to end; I was just getting started with you when I walked through that door tonight. Never mind if you brushed me off at some stupid party.”

Your face heated with shame at the memory. “I'm sorry, I panicked.” 

Megumi nodded in understanding. “I know. And I’m here to tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be on your side, always.” 

Lifting your head from his chest and resting your finger on his lips, you shook your head. “My turn.” 

Megumi’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he nodded. 

“Enough consoling me, okay? You need to know that you’re the one for me, too, so you don’t spiral again and start doubting my love for you and your own for me,” Megumi flushed. “You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever met, and no amount of scepticism would deter me from you because you’re all I want. I love you, okay? I will live and die for the moments we share because I treasure them the most out of everything I do. You are love, and I want to drown myself in you for the rest of our lives if you let me.” 

It was silent. Megumi’s heartbeat was so quick he almost couldn’t feel it. You love him. 

You ignored his blank stare and continued. “You don’t have to say it yet, but I know you do. And if it turns out you don’t love me as much as I, you, I will live on my own for the remainder of time because I know that I had the most incredible love in the universe with you, and I would be content with that. Nobody else could make me feel the way you do.” 

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars and then sighed. “You mean so much to me. I’m sorry I can’t find a way to tell you yet, but I will. I know it in my soul.”

“You already have,” You hugged him tighter, and Megumi rubbed his large hands up and down your back. 

The kitchen light had stopped flickering.

“Why can’t we have a relationship like real people? Because I’m starting to think we’re living in some sort of hallucination together,” You mumbled, giggles slipping from your lips.

Megumi’s chest vibrated with low laughter, but the action rattled his bones. “We’ll figure it out. We're not like real people anyway.”

—

playlist: like real people do - hozier — this is me trying - taylor swift — labyrinth - taylor swift — snow on the beach - taylor swift (w lana del rey)

[perfectlyfinespacebacon]

everything now netflix

some spoilers!! and apologies for the long post.

i honestly really enjoyed it! it was almost like a skins/euphoria but imbued with like a heartstopper/sex education vibe in the sense that it dealt with serious teenage issues/mental health but light enough that it doesn't weigh down on you. my character thoughts:

mia was so infuriating almost at all times. obviously under the circumstances, it makes sense but there's this level of likeability that was missing for me. maybe it was the writing or the acting who knows but in my mind it's like this: im making an albeit an unfair comparison to effy from skins or even rue from euphoria, but they were battling their demons and making all the wrong choices but there was still this level of “i want to root for them” that's missing with mia personally.

in a similar vein with alison, she is meant to be this popular rich mean girl archetype who surprises you but obviously in the first half of the season she's supposed to be kind of unlikeable but i found her very endearing. as for the relationship, alison and mia DO NOT belong together. like at all. i am not rooting for them. alison in a way forced a relationship with mia and then also mia was like too scared to say anything about it. its clear that alison liked mia waaaaay more than mia liked alison. like carli says in the last ep as well, “to learn to not be a fantasy to each other”, alison needs to take mia off this pedastal she has for her. i'm very interested to learn more about her character outside of mia though if they hopefully continue the show. i have a feeling that we are supposed to think that she and cameron hooked up at the end or something but i'm rlly hoping its a red herring.

carli is also a character i would love to learn more about. she definitely has more chemistry with mia and i love her for standing her ground against mia, as she needs to help herself before she can be in a healthy relationship. but i will say it was pretty shitty stringing cameron along.

speaking of cameron, i didn't quite expect to like his character as much as i did. in a way his arc in the season is battling toxic masculinity as he kinda seems to come off as this laid back, bro kinda guy but he cares and loves so deeply. it wasn't right calling bec a "sket". i'm not british but obviously its like equivalent to slut, and im very glad he owned up to it. i'm also really interested to know more about his family and stuff.

i love bec as well. she deserves all the happiness in the world. im glad she was able to air out her things with mia, albeit in a very treacherous way and i also love how her mom was supportive of the abortion. i'm honestly kinda tired seeing the mom kicking out the daughter for getting pregnant trope so it was nice to see a mom just being supportive. bec is just such a wonderful friend and mia honestly has a lot to make up for. re not telling mia about her and cam, it was honestly frustrating seeing mia be so petty. i understand that its a big secret and she felt like everyone was hiding things from her but its also right to have secrets amongst friends, idk that really stuck out to me.

will for me had the weakest arc as in it wasn't the most interesting to me. don't get me wrong, i love the character but it just wasnt giving a whole lot to me. i recognize him as more than the comic relief but also at the same time he was stirring the pot in a lot of the arguments / blowups the group had, consciously and unconsciously. though i will say will x theo <3 but comedic duo of the century is will x alison. the little song they did for mia's birthday is stuck in my head.

tldr; great characters and great show. it's really hard to find a show about teens as a 25yo living in a 16yo body that i enjoy and don't find annoying. i just love how each character was able to be so nuanced despite being an ensemble cast.

but knowing netflix's track record it's gonna get cancelled because a) it's good b) has wlw content... but i really hope not.

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 13

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 13: Lunacy Fringe

Chapter Summary: You and Dieter spend the day at the beach.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, grief, heart-to-heart, fluff, angst, smut, swearing, blood, cannabis use, cliffhanger, public sex, poverty mention, infertility mention near-death experiences, unprotected piv sex, ocean

Notes: Chapter title from “Lunacy Fringe” by The Used. Hmmmm let’s see. Idk if you know this, but I am employed now after like 16 months being a full-time student and SAHM, so I’m in a bit of an ~ adjustment ~ period and might take a bit longer to post things, but time will tell lol. This is a very soft chapter, I hope you like it. Let me know what ya think 🖤✨

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Spotify Playlist ]

Despite your initial trepidation in doing the DIRT interview, and how disastrous it actually wound up being, Darlene reported to you and Dieter that public feedback has been generally positive. As all three of you expected, some of his fans have labeled you a gold digger, conwoman, or flavor of the week, but most find your story a sympathetic one and seem to be supportive. 

The news has saturated the past five days in a warmth and brightness you’ve never encountered before in your life. 

You and Dieter have been painting and writing and laughing and cooking and fucking and falling asleep tangled up in each other and waking up stuck together by sweat. Luxuriating in something neither of you could afford before: quality time. 

Today is no exception, with the two of you under the white down duvet tent, all glowing from morning sun pouring in through the skylight onto his bed.

It smells like him here, of course, but it also smells like you. Your scent has seeped into the threading of his sheets, commingling with his. Like you’ve claimed your spot here with him and now it’s something different, something shared and sacred. 

Meaning that it now smells like you, in the collective sense, and find any excuse to bask in it as long as you can. 

The pads of Dieter’s fingers trail along the shiny scar tissue that laces your leg, your hip, your arm. All those swaths of skin once split open, he traces them with reverence, his touch delicate and studious. Content to memorize you as long as you’ll let him. 

You count the gray hairs sprouting in his beard and at his temples. The wrinkles that crease his forehead and eyes. Signs of age you feel blessed to encounter. 

You think about how the two of you were rejected from the afterlife, from the omnipresent belonging, the sea of love, back into these vessels. 

“What was it like when you died?” you ask him, bringing your touch to that hairless heart-shaped spot at his jawline, “Like, what did you see?” 

“I, umm,” he clears the sleep from his throat, then says, “I remember feeling tired. So fucking tired. This crazy heavy fatigue took over, like—like someone put the world’s heaviest weighted blanket on me, and I tried to stay awake but I just fucking couldn’t. When I woke, I was floating above my body. Saw them all trying to revive me. Then it was like… I was sucked up into this tunnel.”

“The tunnel,” you grin, “That tunnel was fucking awesome.”

He chuckles, “It really was. It was like… I’ve never felt more at peace. Fucking wild,” he shakes his head and frowns, “I saw all these scenes from my life. Growing up, living in New York, getting my first real gig, moving to LA, all that. I got to that barrier, you know,” he glances at you and you nod knowingly. 

“I was right there, I touched it, and I knew that was it but I wasn’t scared. Then Annie shot the adrenaline, and I was getting sucked back, and,” his eyes flick to yours, softening to ganache, “And… I saw you.”

You blink, searching his face, shaking your head. 

“I—I saw you, Louella. I didn’t know who you were. But when I met you, I recognized you. I felt this,” he turns his wrist in a circle and twists his face up in this bewildered expression, “Connection. I don’t know. Like it was supposed to happen.” 

Then he looks at you, and his eyes are glassy and wide with this tender awe. Every cell in your body swells so fat and ripe with love, it’s a miracle you don’t burst like an overfilled water balloon. It hurts, how much you love him. 

“You never told me that," you manage to whisper, brushing your knuckles against his cheek. He gives you a sheepish shrug, and you drag your fingertip down the bridge of his nose, “Maybe it was supposed to happen.” 

Dieter plucks your hand from his face and interlaces his fingers with yours, then immediately pulls it back, pressing a slow, wet kiss into the blackwork apple tattooed on your wrist. He brings your palm to his cheek and holds it there, his eyelids fluttering, “What was it like for you?” 

“Well,” you set your thumb in motion against his skin, “I closed my eyes, and it was dark, then I opened them and saw the wreck. Paramedics were putting me on a stretcher, and there was so much blood I was… red. Like someone dropped me in paint or something.”

The phantom scent of iron sends a shiver up your spine. It took a week to rid your hair of that smell. In the hospital, you scraped under your nails and picked at the hollows of your ears for days before you stopped finding dried blood. 

Maybe it wasn’t days. Maybe it was hours, or minutes, you’re not sure. 

You just know that, for approximately an eternity, you discovered a small mountain of little rust-red flakes and wondered whose blood it was, knowing that even if it wasn’t his, it was. 

Dieter kisses your palm, pulling you back into the present. You blink a few times, take a deep breath, then continue. 

“Ethan was with me, and we were pulled behind the ambulance, like there was some kind of tether between me and my body, but somewhere along the way, he disappeared. That’s when I noticed...” 

You tilt your head and frown, watching your nails graze his whiskers while your mind tries to assemble a description that might make sense. 

“Above me, there was this light. Something inside me knew that’s where he went, so I followed him into the tunnel. I saw my life. When I was growing up in Ohio, my dad, my mom… the time I spent, um…” 

Your teeth catch your bottom lip and your eyes flick to his, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I lived out of my car for a few years after I moved out, before I was accepted into CIA.”

“Really?” he searches your face, and when you nod, he rolls on his side, sliding his palm along the curve of your back, scooping you up to bring you closer. 

“Well, technically I was still homeless when I started going there, ‘til my classmate found out and insisted I move in with him,” you smirk, “That’s how Parker became my bestest friend.” 

“As always, a man after my own heart,” he murmurs and mimics the smirk on your lips. The tips of his fingers work up and down your spine in a soothing motion. 

You chuckle at this, then sigh, “Then, yeah, moving to the city, meeting Ethan. I got to the barrier and saw him cross. I could see inside it like a window. My grandparents, my dad, and Ethan—they were all there, but wouldn’t let me through. My dad told me I needed to go back, that I had more to do.”

A burning sensation climbs up your throat, settling behind your eyes, where tears start to form. You swallow the thick, raw feeling and shake your head. 

“I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think there was anything left for me if Ethan was gone, even though—” 

When you realize what you were about to say, a sob escapes you. Dieter kisses your cheek, then your forehead, and tightens his arms around you. You curl up against him, wriggling your head into that space between his collarbone and jaw. The heat of his body and your own recycled breath warms your face.

“Promise not to judge me for this?” you ask him in a hoarse whisper. 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, “I promise.” 

“Sometimes—you know, when things were really bad with him—sometimes I, um,” your voice breaks. You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears, take a shaky breath, then confess, “Sometimes I wished he would die.“

Self-loathing crackles in your chest. Each second that passes with no response only amplifies the feeling, and you can’t stop the wave of anxious thoughts from spilling out your lips, “It’s fucking horrible, I know it is, but he wasn’t the man I married anymore. He would leave for hours, sometimes days, without telling me where he was or who he was with, coming home all fucking strung out, reeking of booze and smoke and pussy, and—and if I asked, if I dared to fucking ask, he treated me like—like I was the fucking enemy or something—”

Another wet sob gurgles from deep in your chest. Dieter squeezes you tight, nuzzling against the crown of your head, thumb grazing your shoulder as he coos, “It’s ok, baby, it’s ok—”

“No, Dieter, it’s not fucking ok—I should have done something when I noticed it happening more and more, but I was so fucking angry with him for taking away my choice to have a family—”

He shifts to look down at you, asking, “What do you mean?”

Your heart jumps so high, it seems to get lodged in your throat for a moment. You  shake your head and swallow it down, then take a deep, wobbly breath, exhaling a sigh, “He, um… he cheated on me. Said it was a one time thing, he was all fucked up because it was the anniversary of his brother’s death—I—I don’t know. He didn’t tell me until months later when I got really sick out of nowhere and had to go to the Emergency Room. They couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me at first, but admitted me and started me on antibiotics because the symptoms pointed to an infection.” 

This big, blue boulder settles on your sternum and presses the air from your lungs. Dieter’s comforting touch starts again, swirling patterns into your shoulder, his arms cradling around you, lulling you into a sense of security, urging you onward. You relax into his warmth and clear your throat. 

“When the antibiotics worked, the doctors looked into my symptoms further. They ran a bunch of tests and eventually found that I had chlamydia. I told them it was impossible, the only person I was sexually active with was my husband—and, well… yeah. Anyway. Turns out he knew he had it, got treated, but couldn’t bring himself to tell me about it,” you shake your head and let out a sad chuckle, “Just, um, stopped fucking me. Let it fester inside me until it turned into pelvic inflammatory disease, which scarred my reproductive organs enough to make me infertile.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, and his lips part like he’s going to say more, but his breath catches and they snap shut. When they open again, he says, “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

You study him, “What were you going to say?” 

“What?” 

“Before you said you’re sorry, what were you going to say?” 

“I, uhh,” he pauses, and you hear the wet squelch of his gulp, “Nothing, it’s not important.”

You pull back to meet his eyes, finding them all red and glossy. An ache of affection radiates across your chest. You cup his cheeks and search his face, “Tell me.” 

“Just… that’s just a fucking terrible thing to do to someone you love,” he shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes as he winces and looks away, “But—but my first thought was that I understand why, he umm, why—”

His face crumples. Tears blur your vision. You nod, showing you get what he’s trying to say. 

He sniffles, and his eyebrows draw together as he meets your gaze, “God, that’s fucked up, right? What the fuck does that say about me?” 

You take a moment to deliberate, wiping your eyes before telling him, “I think… the fact that you are able to recognize that in yourself, and know that it’s wrong, but tell me the truth anyway, is…” you lick your lips as you try to find the right words, deciding on, “Indicative of growth.“ 

Dieter chuckles. It’s a wet, forceful noise, like he couldn’t even help it from happening. He sniffles and presses his forehead to yours. His thumb scrapes against your damp cheek, “That is very diplomatic of you.” 

You smile despite the tears, then lean in to give him a tender kiss. His lips are warm and soft. They linger on yours for a few moments, and when you pull away, you murmur, “I love you, Dieter.” 

“I love you, too,” he rumbles, brushing your face with the back of his hand, “So, you found that out in the hospital, and I’m assuming things got worse with him after that?” 

“Yeah,” you frown and nod, “Yeah, I mean, I iced him out pretty hard. It all went down right before COVID hit New York, you know, and we were stuck at home together… he’d run our orders, then lock himself away in his office. I’d hear him snorting and pacing in there for hours. Like a caged animal. He’d come out all fucking,” you make a sniff noise and mimic a facial tic, “Twitchy and withdrawn, which was totally not like him. But, I don’t know. I couldn’t bridge that gap and move past what happened enough to help him.” 

You sigh, flicking your gaze to his, “Do you remember what he was like?” 

“Yeah,” Dieter swallows, glancing behind you for a moment before returning to your eyes, “He was nice. Funny. Easy-going. I—I mean, I liked him. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Well, knowing what I know about him now, I feel… I don’t know, guilty, or something.” 

“Don’t,” you frown and shake your head, combing your fingers through his curls, “He was all of those things. He was so… good, you know? This thing would happen, I swear to fucking god it was like every time we went out,” you chuckle fondly, “He would strike up a conversation with a stranger and make friends with them. It was effortless. He was so magnetic. I always loved that about him. And it’s not like he was different behind closed doors or anything like that. Not at that point, anyway.” 

Your smile falters. Dieter tilts your chin up and kisses you. When he pulls back, you wriggle into his chest and close your eyes. 

“That’s what I mean, though, when I say he wasn’t the man I married. He became paranoid, unpredictable, erratic. There was this darkness about him that was so… hard to be around. I—I fucking hated him.” 

Your stomach drops, eyes blinking open. Before you can think twice, you tell Dieter, “That’s the last thing I said to him. ‘I fucking hate you.’” 

He draws a sharp breath, holds it for a moment, then says, “That’s not true, though. You talked to him last weekend, in the psychomanteum.” 

Your lips part to contradict him, but you realize he’s right. That dark, heavy feeling in your chest lifts enough for you to smile. Fresh tears prick your eyes, “I did, didn’t I?” 

“Fuck yeah you did,” he grins, craning his head to kiss your forehead, murmuring against your skin, “My sexy little ghostbuster.” 

You bury your face in his neck and laugh. His chest vibrates with a low chuckle. A serene silence settles under the white, glowing dome. Dieter releases a content sigh and traces the pomegranate on your shoulder, “Did you ever find out why?”

“Why what?” 

“Why he, umm—”

“Ah,” you nod, “Why he tried to kill us?”

“Yeah.” 

“No,” you furrow your brow, “When he dragged me out of bed that night, he kept asking me who I was working for, said it had to be NYPD or feds. He told me that someone was following him and he knew I was setting him up. I don’t know.”

You take one of his hands and interlace it with yours, cuddling them to your chest, “The first time we tried the psychomanteum, I was hoping he would be how he was before—I mean, obviously because I needed to know who he really was, if it was all a lie in the beginning, if I had just missed it… but I also wanted to ask if I should lay low. The more time that went on, though, with no red flags from police, the more I knew he was just… sick.” 

Dieter hums in acknowledgment. 

“I’m so glad we tried again. That I got to talk to him again,” you say, smirking when you add, “Thank you for helping me with my crazy ghost FaceTime.” 

He smiles, “Thank you for convincing me to try it. I’m glad I did.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he pauses and shifts a little, “James and I, in our heyday, we would write these scripts and screenplays and act them out. He did most of the writing, and I did the big parts, but I, you know, I liked… writing.” 

You pull back and tilt your head at him, a grin spreading across your face at his bashful demeanor, “Really?” 

He nods, a little bob wobbling his throat, “I’ve been thinking about giving that a shot. I have some ideas for scripts, but I’ve been so… reluctant, I guess, to put them to paper,” he shrugs, “When I talked to James, he told me I should try it again, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” 

“I think he’s right,” you tell him, and press a kiss into the back of his hand. 

“I just keep thinking… What if it’s terrible? What if nobody likes it?” 

“Does it matter as long as you like it?”

His features shift into seriousness as he considers this. Brow furrowed and pinched in the middle. Corners of his mouth folded in a slight frown. Eyes downcast, studying your clasped hands as he flattens your palm over his heart. 

The soft, rhythmic thump-thump beats steady. You watch his eyelids flutter and his facial muscles slacken into a serene expression. This feeling comes over you that’s hard to explain. 

It surges from deep inside your chest and buzzes across your skin. 

There’s weight to it. Nothing you can’t handle, but still, the heaviness is apparent. You simultaneously feel responsible and completely exposed. Like you’re exchanging your most prized, most fragile possessions, under the silent condition that neither of you will break the other’s. 

You would be lying if you said it didn’t scare the shit out of you. You would also be lying if you said it didn’t bring you joy. 

He catches you staring and smiles, “What?” 

“Nothing,” you grin, “I just… I love you.” 

“Yeah?”

You nod, glancing down at his lips. 

He searches your face and murmurs, “I love you so much.” 

“So fucking much,” you confirm. 

Gravel crunches beneath your sandals as you trot down the steep path to the beach, splitting your attention between your clumsy footwork and the scenery. 

Clusters of purple flowers occasionally break up the tall, dry grass. Palm trees stretch high into the brilliant, cloudless sky. Beyond the white sand beach sits the Pacific Ocean, dark and alive. 

As you inhale deep and wide, letting your eyes shut as you relish the sulphuric, briny scent of the sea, your foot catches on a rock, and you stumble forward with a yelp, grabbing Dieter’s arm to keep you from falling. He only falters a little when you latch onto him, even though he’s outfitted like a pack mule, beach chairs strapped to his back, lugging a tote bag stuffed with towels and a cooler. 

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” you wrap your hand around his bicep for support and shrug, “Just, y’know, being super attentive and graceful.” 

His muscles twitch under your grip, “Good thing you have such a big strong man to hang onto.” 

“Are you flexing?” 

“Pffff, no,” he scoffs, and this big, contagious smile spreads across his face. Gravel transitions into sand at the trail’s end, and he asks, “Alright, doll, where you wanna set up camp?” 

Your nose crinkles as you squint around the sparsely populated beach. There’s a section of shoreline far away from everyone else, and you point to it, “Right there! Avast ye!”

“Aye aye, captain!” 

His pirate voice is surprisingly on point. It makes you laugh. He grins at your amusement as the two of you trudge towards the spot. Sand kicks up inside your sandals, gritty and hot against your feet, and you grumble, “Fuck this, I can’t with the shoes.” 

You slow down to take them off, but Dieter stops you, “Wait wait wait—” 

“What?” 

“Think you can kick ‘em all the way there?”

You shrug, “Probably.” 

He sets the cooler down, takes a step back, and props his hands on his hips, looking between you and the vacant section of beach through his sunglasses, “Let’s see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tease, “You are such a boy.” 

“Kick your shoes! Kick your shoes! Kick your—”

You wind up your right leg, then kick it forward, sending the sandal flying. 

“YEAAAAAAH!” 

It goes high, but not far, flopping on the ground a few strides ahead. 

“Ah, beans,” you say, “I thought that was outta here.” 

“See, your problem is,” Dieter drops the tote bag and shucks off the beach chairs strapped to his back. 

“Oh, you have a technique? A shoe kicking technique?” 

“Obviously,” he guffaws while tugging his joggers up his calves, “You gotta get your flippy all floppy on your toes, then kick it.” 

“I believe the technical term is loosey-goosey.”

“You’re absolutely right, my mistake,” he walks to your side and points to his foot, “See, watch this.”

He shakes his foot around until the sandal dangles off it, then winds up and launches it forward. It goes about four times further than yours, landing right where the two of you were headed. 

“BOOM! That’s a shoe kick.” 

“Nice,” you give him a high five. 

“Thanks,” he grins, “Now you try. Should we do this one together?” 

“Ok ok,” you balance on your right foot, wriggling your ankle around until the sandal slides down as far as it can. 

Dieter does the same, “Here we go, ready?”

“So fucking ready.” 

“One, two, three—”

Both of you rear back, then kick, and your sandals go whizzing through the air. Yours hits the ground first and skids across the sand, coming to rest a few feet from his first sandal, while Dieter’s flies so far it’s just a speck in the distance. 

“Holy shit!” you laugh, “That went so fucking far.” 

“And the crowd goes wild!” Dieter bellows, embellishing the statement with cheering noises as he runs a victory lap around you. 

You snort and shake your head, “Ok, now you’re gloating.” 

He continues the one man celebration as he returns to his abandoned cargo, then heaves the chairs back over his shoulders. You skip up to him and snatch the tote bag off the ground, even though he insisted on carrying everything, then take your place on his arm. 

Once the two of you arrive at the vacant stretch of beach, marked by two left sandals, Dieter sets everything up, unfolding the colorful canvas beach chairs on either side of the cooler while you strip down to your black string bikini. He digs in the pockets of his joggers and unloads most of their contents into the tote bag, save for a little tin of joints and a lighter, which he sets on the cooler.

Stretching out in the beach chair, you bury your toes in the hot sand and watch Dieter kick off his pants. He notices you noticing him and whistles at you, a flirty wheet-whew.

You grin, and when he reaches for the hem of his shirt, you catcall, “Take it off!” 

He does so dramatically, spinning the shirt over his head like a helicopter and flossing it between his legs before tossing it at you. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh when it smacks you in the face. The fabric is warm and reeks of him, which you kind of like, so you ball it up and stuff it behind your head like a pillow. 

With a groan, Dieter sits down and grabs the tin off the cooler, plugging a joint between his lips. He lights it and takes a few puffs, then relaxes back into the beach chair, passing the torch to you. 

You accept it and take two hits in quick succession, keeping the smoke hostage in your lungs. The rush of THC blurs your senses and elevates you to a pleasant altitude where worries slough off your brain. On the exhale, you hand it to Dieter and ask, “If you were a fish, what kind of fish do you think you’d be?” 

He just starts giggling as he plucks the joint from your fingertips and takes a drag.

You catch a few contagious giggles and tell him, “I think—I think I would be a, uhh… a pufferfish.” 

He furrows his brow and blows the smoke towards the ocean, then shakes his head, “A pufferfish?” 

“Yeah,” you take the joint from him, inhaling skunky, thick smoke with a shrug, “Spiky. Temperamental. Solitary.” 

“Kind of adorable when you’re mad,” he adds with a grin while accepting the joint from you, then puffs on it. A condensed white cloud curls out his parted lips when he hands it back to you. He looks out into the water, “I’d be a goldfish.” 

You study him while taking a drag, and flick a long tube of ash off the glowing orange tip. 

His nose scrunches up around his sunglasses as he glances over at you, “Trapped. Always… on display.” 

You pass him the joint and nod in understanding, but say, “I don’t think you’re a goldfish. You’re like… way cooler than a goldfish.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re a pufferfish.” 

“Then what am I?” 

“Hmm,” he leans way back in his beach chair, tucking an arm behind his head while taking a hit off the joint, then hands it back to you, “Let me think about it.” 

“Kill it,” you wave off the joint, perfectly content with how stoned you managed to get, and lay back to bask in the warm sunshine. Your eyes drift closed and you release a deep, cleansing breath while thinking about goldfish. Pea-brained, sociable, common. 

Sure, he may feel like a goldfish, but that’s not him. Not really. 

He’s unique, and smart, and dedicated, when he wants to be. 

Dozens of different sea creatures swim behind your eyelids. You compare and contrast each one to your paramour. Octopi are smart and shapeshifters, but they’re too reclusive. Sharks too aggressive. A whole fleet of colorful, tropical fish, but none of them seem right, until one little curly-tailed guy buzzes across the ocean in your head. 

Your eyes open and you smile at him, “You’re a seahorse.” 

“How’s that?” he asks, voice warped by smoke. He grinds the joint into the sand, then outstretches a hand to you. 

You take it, interlacing your fingers with his, forming a bridge between your armrests, “They eat a lot, they’re kind of pokey—”

“Stop, you flatter me,” he deadpans.

You throw your head back in laughter and say, “Wait, wait—let me finish! They’re also cute, and romantic, and smart, and curious,” you lean forward and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss into his skin, then declare, “You, my love, are a seahorse.” 

A wide grin spreads across his face. His thumb works against your hand. He tugs on it and murmurs, “C’mere.”

You crawl out of the beach chair, into his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a kiss. One of his hands snakes around your waist while the other comes to rest on your bare thigh. When your lips part, you curl up against his chest and sigh, “I love you, my sweet seahorse man.” 

He lets out a dopey little giggle and kisses the crown of your head, mumbling into your hair, “And I love you, my beautiful seahorse lady.” 

You gasp, peering up at him, “I get to be a seahorse with you?” 

“It makes sense, don’t you think?” he pulls you close and nuzzles into your hair, snuggling you like you’re his favorite stuffed animal at bedtime, “You and me, we can just… get our tails all tangled up and float around the sea together. Hang out in coral reefs and eat, uhhh… I don’t know, whatever seahorses eat. Sea-monkeys?” 

“Sea-monkeys?” you guffaw, “What the fuck are those?”

“It’s a thing!” he laughs, giving your thigh a playful smack, “Didn’t you ever have sea-monkeys? They came in those, uhh, little Parmesan cheese packet lookin’ things—Oh! They’re shrimp! Brine shrimp.” 

“Ohhhhh!” you cover your face as you nod, “Ok, yes. I know sea-monkeys. I bet if I was a seahorse I would eat the shit out of those.” 

“Told you.” 

“You’re right,” you relax back into him, unable to shake the smile from your lips, “Did you know that when a seahorse finds another seahorse they really like, they mate for life?” 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” your eyes drift closed, lulled by the warmth of him surrounding you, “They love each other so much that when one of them dies, the other shortly follows. Cuz they can’t live without each other.” 

“That’s weirdly romantic,” he chuckles and kisses your forehead. 

“Totally us.” 

He hums in agreement. The noise is saturated with a warm contentment that seeps into your bones and boils them down to broth. It sloshes around under your skin and you can’t imagine having to move ever again. 

“If we stay like this I’m gonna fall asleep,” you mumble. His response is to nuzzle even closer and take a deep, sleepy breath. It’s all the permission you need to let the sandman pull you under. 

When Dieter wakes, not much time has passed. The sun no longer hangs in the zenith of the sky like an angry disco ball, but stares him straight in the face. 

He peaks down at you and chuckles. A puddle of drool has collected on his shoulder, dribbling from the corner of your slackened mouth. Warmth swells in his belly and aches all the way up to his chest. He strokes your sweaty, heated cheek and thinks, “I don’t deserve her.” 

The thought is not so much self-deprecating as it is full of awe at his fortune. 

Each morning, when he wakes and you’re still there, wrapped up in his embrace, he can’t believe it. Your one-way ticket to LA has no return trip planned. Neither of you have brought it up. The closest you’ve come is asking him, “Are you sick of me yet?” one morning over breakfast. 

“Sick of you?” he scoffed and ripped off a chunk of his blueberry muffin, popping it into his mouth, “Not possible.” 

You smiled at him over your coffee mug before taking a tentative sip and changing the subject, “What’re we doing today?”

He knows you have a life back in New York. A business and friends waiting for you to return, but, god… he’d do anything to keep you here forever. To share as many days with you as possible. 

As has been happening often lately, he dwells on a snippet from his near-death experience. The one of him holding your hands, where you’re wearing a white dress, smiling bright and full and gorgeous, and you say, “I do.” 

Given the result of his previous marriage, he considers that he might be an idiot for daydreaming about it. Especially this soon. 

Didn’t he learn his lesson last time? 

Apparently not. 

Did he feel this way last time, though? Like someone turned up the dimmer switch on his life? With Anika, did he ever know, with certainty, that he would give up anything and everything to stay in the orbit of her affection? 

No. 

It’s different with you. The tendrils of your love have burrowed deep inside him, taking root in a place no one else has touched. A place he didn’t even know existed within him. 

You stir a little. Dieter strokes a scarred-up strawberry on your arm, gazing down at you in time to witness your eyes blink open and meet his. A hazy smile spreads across your lips, and you reach up, brushing his patchy beard with your knuckles, “What time is it?” 

The words are groggy and rough. 

He shrugs, “Sometime.” 

Humming, you look around, then try to sit up, but he reels you back in and squeezes his arms around you, “Mmmm no.” 

“Dee,” you whine, laughter wavering your protest, “I’m so thirsty. And hot.” 

“Yeah you are.” 

One corner of your mouth tucks into a smirk and you snort, shaking your head at him. You kiss him, your dry, sea-chapped lips sticking to the soft inner plush of his mouth. When you draw back and stretch your hands up towards the aquamarine sky, a deep yawn expanding your rib cage, he reluctantly lets you go. 

Exhaling a gust, your body goes slack and you roll off his lap into the sand, groaning, “Water,” then crawl towards the cooler. He reaches over to pop the lid open for you and grabs a seltzer. The can opens with a hiss. He brings it to his lips, taking a big swallow of the bubbly, vaguely strawberry-flavored water. 

You twist the cap off a dewy plastic water bottle and tip your head back to guzzle it down, water streaming out the corners of your mouth, trickling down your chin, neck, chest, the column of your throat pumping in a thick glug-glug-glug that flickers at the base of his spine. 

Sand coats your arms and legs, all those microscopic grains clinging to your slick, sweaty skin. The bottle collapses in on itself as you suck down the remaining water. You toss it aside and gasp for air, chest heaving, practically fucking moaning, “Oh my god—that was fucking amazing.” 

A hot, heady rush of need gushes through him. His dick jumps. Breathing quickens. 

Dieter gulps down seltzer, ogling you while you grab a fistful of ice from the cooler and hold it to your forehead, eyes fluttering shut. You press the melting ice into your cleavage, squishing your tits together, lips parting in a gasp. 

Jesus fucking Christ, Louella. 

He sits up and finishes off the seltzer, dropping his empty in the sand, “Need some help?” 

With your head still tilted back, eyelids still sealed shut, a sly smile spreads across your face, “Oh yeah?” 

By now, the heat of your skin has turned the ice to water, trailing shiny and wet down your abdomen, pooling in your belly button, darkening the very top of your black string bikini. 

Dieter stifles a groan at the sight. Saliva gathers in the dark cavern of his mouth. He gulps it down. 

You open your eyes and level your gaze to his, eyebrow quirking as you shrug. 

He takes a handful of ice from the cooler and pats his thigh. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You crawl over to him and climb into his lap, sliding back until you’re seated firmly on his hard cock. 

“Someone is excited,” you chuckle. 

“Can you blame me?” he grins, brushing hair from the nape of your neck. He presses the ice into that knotted bone right beneath your skull, then slides it down your back, drawing circles over each vertebrae. Your shoulders slacken and you let out a sigh of relief. 

When the cube melts, right around the middle of your spine where your string bikini is tied into a neat little bow, he gets a new one. 

“That feels good,” you breathe, hips arching back, ass pressing hard against him. 

The way you say this, all lusty and scraping along the edge of your vocal cords, makes his throat rumble and beckons him closer. He shifts his seated position, sitting up higher, slipping a hand around your waist to make sure you don’t wiggle away, then presses a slow kiss into your pulse. 

You hum, opening your neck wider for him to taste the salty bite of your sweat. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your skin, fingertips digging into your soft belly. The ice cube melts against your tailbone, and he grabs another, smearing its decay along your collarbone, down your sternum. 

When he slides it under your skimpy little bikini top and rubs it against your pebbled nipple, you rock your hips against his, letting out a soft gasp, “You’re gonna get us in trouble.” 

“With who?” he murmurs, nips at your neck, then says, “Nobody’s here, love.” 

“Wait, really?”

You lean forward and look around, turning back to him with a mischievous grin when you find what he said is true. Your pink bubblegum tongue peaks out to wet your lips as you search his face, “Are you sure?”

“Relax, doll,” he purrs, reeling you in, pressing his lips into your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. You reach back, fingers tangling in his hair, and pull him into a leisurely, saccharine kiss. 

Like always, it makes his heart stutter. Bubbles hot and wanting up the middle of him. You roll your hips. The heated weight of you grinds hard against his cock, making him groan into your mouth. 

His fingertips dance across your abdomen, tracing tedious little swirls into your skin. Your lips gape open with a whine and you roll your hips. His eyelids flutter and he shudders at the wave of pleasure that floods his body. He grabs your hips and silently urges you to continue, rocking you back and forth. 

“Fuck, that’s good, baby,” he pants. 

Your hand slides over his, both chilled and wet from melted ice, and you guide it between your legs, nodding when his touch wriggles under the fabric of your swimsuit, moaning when he finds your clit and rubs you, soft and steady, studying the subtle, pleasure-filled tremors that make your muscles twitch and breathing quicken. 

Your eyebrows thread together and your lips get all pouty, these huffy whimpers escaping them with each stroke, and he could just fucking eat you alive right now, you’re that goddamn beautiful. 

His mouth seizes yours. You respond with vigor, twisting your top half around to bury your hands in his hair and kiss him harder. 

He works you faster, flicking his wrist, swallowing your moans whole. 

You pull back with a gasp and throw your head back on his shoulder, “Holy fuck, yes—”

“Does that feel good, baby?” 

“Sofuckinggood,” you whimper, grinding against him, “Fuck—fuck, I want you, Dee—”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you right here in the open?” he coos in your ear.

You nod. 

“Let me take these off,” he withdraws his hand and you scramble to your feet, chest heaving as you glance up and down the shoreline. He tugs off his swim trunks and reclines in the canvas beach chair. 

Your eyes drop to his cock, and this big, delighted smile stretches across your face. Returning to his lap, you lower yourself back while Dieter pushes the gusset of your bikini aside and guides to your target. When the tip of him breaches your entrance, you gasp.

“Holy shit, baby,” he groans as you ease him into your hot, wet squeeze, whimpering, “Fuck fuck fuck,” under your breath as he stretches you open. 

When he can’t go any further, you adjust your posture, hands on his knees, leaning forward, arching your back. You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes, and start to roll your hips, pussy suctioning around him, taking him slow and deep. 

He moans and nods in approval at the pleasure that gushes up his spine, “That’s it, baby, take what you need. Ride that cock how you want it, feels so fucking good, fuuuck—”

“Oh my god, Dee,” you whine, eyes fluttering shut, mouth hanging slack. 

He slides his palms up your back and watches his cock, all shiny with your slick, disappear into you over and over again. Your huffy little whimpers grow louder and you grip his knees, pushing yourself back onto him harder, faster.

“There you go, love,” he groans, gripping your waist, “It’s all yours, baby, take it—”

“Fuck, Dee—”

Your voice is high-pitched and frantic. His hips arch into yours, pulling a wrecked moan from your chest. Liquid heat pulses through him, and when he thrusts again, you gasp and nod, “Fuck, keep doing that.”

He does. He fucks up into you and you curve your spine, face to the sky, tilting your pelvis just so, and the hot, plush silk of your cunt grips his cock, making this sick, wet squelching noise that only fuels him further. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing, so fucking perfect,” he pants, skin tingling with desire, wanting to feel you closer, needing to feel your lips on his. His hips slow and he slides a hand to your belly, urging you, “Come here, baby.” 

Dieter guides you back, threading one arm around your abdomen, the other scooping up your knees. You link your hands at the nape of his neck and he presses his forehead into yours. The first thrust makes your whole body tense and you whimper, “Holyfuckingshit—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, pulling back to meet your wide eyes, “You can do it, you can take it.”

You make this cute, pathetic kind of noise, gulping down a whine, but nod for him to continue. 

He rolls his hips, slow at first, letting you acclimate, increasing his tempo when your head rolls back and your walls relax. 

You’re cradled so close he can see the sweat glistening on your skin, can smell your damp musk, can hear every breathy moan, can feel every muscle in your body quiver as he pumps into you. The edges of him start to crumble, deteriorating with each thick wave of pleasure that washes over him. 

“Fucking perfect, Jesus fucking Christ, pussy feels so good I fucking love it,” he babbles.

Your breathing grows frantic and sharp, head snapping up to tell him, “Don’t fucking stop I’m so close, holy shit Dee—”

“Fuck yes, cum on this dick baby, let me feel you, I fucking love it I fucking love you—”

You pull him into a needy, messy kiss, your deep, wanton moans vibrating on his tongue as you convulse around him, tremors twitching your muscles. A swell of pleasure steals his breath, surging through him hot and gooey and overwhelming, and he falls over the edge, spilling inside you. 

Your lips don’t part from his for more than a moment while the two of you come down into blissful satisfaction, your bodies sweaty and trembling. Labored breaths gradually dissipate into normalcy, and the kisses linger with intimacy. 

“Wow,” you giggle eventually, slack and boneless against his body as you tuck your head into his neck, “Are there awards for fucking? I think you just won in the outstanding performance category.” 

The praise curls up inside him and makes him chuckle, “What an honor. I’d like to thank my beautiful costar, Louella. Couldn’t have done it without you—”

Your laughter cuts him off, then you say,“You can put your Fuck-ee next to your Oscar.” 

“Fuck-ee?” he throws his head back and guffaws, “What would that trophy look like? A golden dong?” 

Your body shakes with laughter, “I think that sounds perfect.” 

He kisses your sweaty forehead, releasing a content sigh before murmuring “I should put my trunks back on.”

You chug two more bottles of water before returning to your chair beside Dieter. 

As you stretch out in the sunlight, the outside world starts to creep back into frame. Sand heats the soles of your feet. Ocean waves roar and slosh onto the beach. A salty breeze ruffles your hair and cools your heated skin. 

Dieter nods to the seemingly infinite gray-blue water, “Wanna take a dip?” 

You look at the ocean. At the tide washing ashore, then pulling back, again and again. Big, rhythmic, gasping breaths. You think about the vast depth of the Pacific, about the ecosystems it contains, all its tides and currents. All the life it contains and death it brings. The sheer power and magnitude of its existence, right in front of you. 

Unease twists your stomach and hums in your bones. Your chest aches. 

It’s so overwhelming. 

Dieter squeezes your hand, reminding you of his question, and you glance over at him, his expression hopeful and earnest. You can’t say no to that face. Besides, it’s just water. 

You’re being irrational. 

“Sure.” 

“Yeah?” he crinkles his nose like he’s squinting at you behind his sunglasses, “We don’t have to, you know.” 

“It’s fine, let’s go,” you crawl to your feet, dusting sand off your legs and ass as you start towards it, ignoring the violent thud of your pulse. 

He catches up to you, interlacing his fingers with yours, and the two of you trudge through the hot sand. 

“Are you sure?” 

You frown, “Yeah, why?”

“You seem,” he pauses here, jaw ticking to one side, then runs a hand through his wind-blown curls, “I dunno. Like you don’t actually want to.” 

You frown and shake your head, but the action isn’t convincing. 

When he starts to slow, you do too, and you both come to a stop, side-by-side, right across the border of smooth, damp sand. A wave crashes against the shoreline. Its tide stretches towards you, then the cool water washes over your feet. 

Dieter squeezes your hand, “Lua. Don’t lie to me.” 

You turn and face him, opening your mouth to lie, then he pulls his sunglasses up into his hair so you can meet his eyes, that warm gaze knocking at the eroded, but stubborn, cement wall of your heart, begging, “Let me in. Please.” 

“It’s stupid,” you drop your gaze and catch the soft inside of your cheek between your molars, then glance between him and the rolling water, “It’s just scary, you know?” 

He frowns, “What is, the ocean?”

“Well, yeah,” you scoff, gesturing towards another incoming wave, “It’s fucking massive. We don’t even know what’s in there, I mean, there could be monsters—”

“Monsters?” 

You shoot him a playful glare and chuckle, “We don’t know!”

“Uh huh” he grins, both of his heated, sandy palms finding your waist. 

You drape your arms around his neck, tangling your fingertips into the damp curls at the base of his skull, then swallow hard and shrug, “And maybe… I don’t know, maybe I can’t, um… swim?” 

His eyebrows shoot up, “Oh shit, really?” 

Heat creeps up your neck. You drop your gaze and hear yourself mutter out excuses like a reflex, “Not very good, anyway. Nobody ever took me swimming, or showed me how, and I never figured it out on my own, and-and Ethan was supposed to teach me—” 

“Hey, that’s fine,” he works his thumb against your skin, soothing you, “We don’t have to go far, no swimming necessary.”

You thread your brows together, “Really?” 

“Obviously,” he scoffs, “What, you think I’m gonna make you? We don’t have to go into the water at all if you don’t want to—”

“No, I want to. It looks nice, just,” you chuckle at yourself, at the worried voice of anxiety piping up in the back of your brain, “I know it’s silly, but will you make sure I don’t get, like… pulled under?” 

“Scout’s honor,” he pulls you into a hug, and you hug him back, resting your cheek on his bare chest. The ragged, jittery sparks in your ribcage calm to a low purr. Your muscles melt and untangle. Another wave washes ashore and rolls over your feet, then disappears.

He plants a firm smooch on your forehead, then rubs your back and murmurs, “Ready?” 

“Let’s fuckin’ do this,” you say in your most masculine tough guy voice, pulling back to grin at him. 

He snorts, shaking his head at you, brown eyes crinkled and twinkling with amusement, then grabs your hand and starts walking out into the tide as it rushes inland. When the ocean takes its offering back, you squeal at the sensation, how water pulls sand out from under you like a rug, coaxing you closer. Wild, salt-addled gusts whip your hair around and nip your generously exposed skin. Before you know it, you’re knee-deep in the icy water, wobbling when an incoming wave shoves you back and splashes up your thighs. 

You gasp and squeeze Dieter’s hand for stability. He steps behind you, wrapping his warm, sun-kissed arms around your body, purring in your ear, “I’ve got you, doll, don’t worry.” 

“Ok,” you nod, staring out into the deep, dark unknown, rooted in place by his fortitude, finally allowing yourself to marvel in the beauty of it all, “Ok.” 

Dieter watches you from bed as you rub moisturizer into your cheeks, leaning towards the bathroom mirror, making all these cute, squishy expressions. Little beads of water drip off the ends of your hair, still wet from the shower, onto the floor and counter. 

He’s never really been a forever kind of person. Up until about a year ago, every good thing in his life had been fleeting: flings, highs, gigs. The friendships he held onto were superficial and based in commodity. His marriage felt like a debt he owed. Companionship spoke foreign tongues. He never felt sated. Never felt like this. 

This. 

Fuck, he loves this. 

He thought people made this shit up. Forever. It always sounded like a joke. 

But it’s all he can think about. How he never wants to spend another night without you here, wearing nothing but his faded old Prince t-shirt, brushing your teeth, putting all your things away in the bathroom drawer. For-fucking-ever. 

When you flip off the bathroom light and come wandering back into the bedroom, you notice him staring at you, and chuckle, “What’re you smiling about?” 

Dieter didn’t even realize he was smiling, but you’re right, he is. With a shrug, he says, “You look pretty.” 

“Yeah?” you smirk, and twirl around a little, “Is this doing it for ya?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

You roll your eyes, that big beautiful smile stretching across your face, and crawl into bed beside him. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you tuck yourself into his side, ear to his heart. Probably, you hear it skip a beat when he realizes what he’s about to say. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

The seconds after are so quiet he hears your lips part. You shift around until you’re propped up on his chest, searching his face, “What’re you saying?” 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He curls a hand around the small of your back, “I mean, you know, I want you to stay,” he swallows and meets your gaze, “Like, to live here.” 

Your features lights up, and it’s sweeter than any fucking buzz he ever caught. 

“Really?”

He nods. 

As if something occurs to you, your lips fall into a frown, “What about my baking? And-and Parker—”

“Open something up here. You always tell me about how you want to run a legit bakery,” he smooths his thumb against your spine, “Parker can visit us whenever he wants.” 

“I don’t have the capital to open a bakery—”

“I’ll help.” 

Your shoulders deflate a little and a crease forms between your brows. You tap your fingertips against his chest and ask, “Would you consider moving to New York?” 

He drops his gaze and shakes his head, “I have to be here. Better chance of me picking up work if I’m close by.“

“Dieter,” you pause, holding your breath like you’re not sure you want to say it, but when he meets your eyes, you stammer, “It just doesn’t seem like, I don’t know… Do you even like acting?”

The question feels like a jolt. 

He jerks his head back, “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Unconvinced. Stomach acid sloshes around inside him and bubbles up his throat. 

“It’s my purpose. Acting is the only constant in my life, the only thing that I do that means anything. It—it’s what gets me out of bed and pushes me to keep going.” 

He says this, but the words taste sour. Does he even like acting anymore? Or is he just scared to try something else? 

A glimpse of the answer in his heart sends it racing. He stuffs it down and tries not to look at it. It’s too fucking scary. 

You study him for a moment, then scrunch your face up and stare at your fingertips as they dance across his bare skin. Deep in thought. With each second that goes by, he’s sure you’ll press harder and make him crack. It wouldn’t take much. 

“I wonder how much money I could make selling my inventory,” you ponder out loud,  “Probably at least $20k. That would be an ok starting—”

His mouth drops open, “Holy shit, how much do you have?” 

You shrug, “Twenty pounds raw, thirty pounds cannabutter—”

“And I’ve been smoking you up?” he tuts, “Puta madre.” 

You gasp and smack his chest, breaking out in a giggle when you say, “Rude.” 

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, pulling you closer, “Smoking you up is an honor.” 

“Damn right it is.” 

The two of you smile at each other for a moment, then what you were saying catches up to him. 

“So, if you sell everything, then…” 

Your eyebrow quirks and your grin spreads wider as you shrug, “Then I could probably swing a cross-country move.” 

“Yeah?” 

His cheeks ache from smiling, but he can’t stop. 

You nod, “Yeah.” 

The shrill sound of your ringtone cuts through sleep. 

You roll out of Dieter’s loose grip to grab at the source, frowning first at the time, then the caller. Fucking FaceTime, seriously?

You pull Dieter’s shirt over your head and tiptoe out onto the patio, sliding the door shut behind you as you answer with a hiss, “Parker, it’s 3am, what the fu—”

“Lou, look,” he says, and you squint at the screen, recognizing the propped open door to your apartment building. The snow piles flicker blue and red. Parker pans the camera to the half-dozen NYPD squad cars clogging the street. Police officers and people wearing jackets reading NYPD FORENSIC INVESTIGATION DIVISION file in and out of the building, the outgoing individuals carrying boxes of evidence. 

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head, “What’s going on, are you ok?”

“That’s from your apartment, Lou,” he tells you quietly, “They fucking raided it.”

Panic seeps into your blood, an icy cold rush that numbs your limbs and freezes your brain. You just keep shaking your head, and hear yourself tell Parker, “No—no that can’t be right.” 

“Trust me, it is—”

“Excuse me,” an off-screen voice says to Parker, and the perspective shifts to the source: a bald white man with thick-rimmed glasses. He’s holding a camera, and he asks, “Do you live here?” 

“No,” Parker answers. 

Another wave of panic slams into you as you realize who he is: David Alterman from DIRT. 

You end the call and stare at the screen, unable to move. Unable to think. Just one thought blares in your mind, deafening and persistent: RUN.

[fuck-customers]

Sorry in advance. This one is gonna be REAL long and vent-y.

So I currently have a retail job that I've been at for 4 years. I'll be honestly, it's never been a great job and since it's retail, I obviously never intended to stay there forever. Honestly, I've stayed there longer than I intended to, due to a lot of disasters in my personal life. (legal battles, house fire, homelessness) And because it was easier to just stay at a job that I already had and was already established and trained and knew the drill vs. going through these personal disasters at a new job, trying to give a good impression and perform well while hiding the fact that I'm miserable and going through a lot of difficulties that I do not want to bring into work/have bosses or coworkers be aware of. (I feel very hesitant to share any personal info at work, because I worry that any shared info not work-related can be used against me, in minor and major ways. But perhaps I'm being unnecessarily paranoid.)

However, after all this time of me dragging my feet, it is unfortunately clear to me that I am going to have to get another job. My job was always part-time (with a promise that was a lie about being promoted to full-time with good performance) but now my hours have majorly decreased from 12-30 hours per week when I was first hired, to now getting 3-6 hours EVERY OTHER WEEK.

So now I have begrudgingly resigned myself to accept the fact that I need to apply for jobs. I'm terrified. I've accepted it, but I'm terrified.

I don't have very much work experience. I had a seasonal job before my current job (3 months) and I've been at my current job for (a bit over) 4 years, which looks good because it shows loyalty, commitment, blah, blah, blah. But that's IT. 2 jobs. No degree or license or qualifications. I was in a few clubs in high school, but I'm too old to be listing my high school achievements. I can't afford college. And I know that a lot of job applications have auto-delete programs that will just trash an application if it doesn't have the correct buzzwords...but how am I supposed to know the correct buzzwords? I've also heard about ghost listings where companies post job listings they never intend to fill so they get a tax write off or whatever. (Idk if this is true, but the idea is enough to terrify me) I also have a hearing disability and I suspect (but am undiagnosed) that I have a learning/neurological disability, possibly ADHD or mild autism.

So there's ALL THAT weighing on my mind. And then on top of all of that, I'm scared out of my mind about my own personal situation.

I figure I can probably fake it well enough for the first week or so, maybe the first month if I'm really crafty and lucky (I figure I can get through the application process by listing my P.O. box as an address without putting that it's a P.O. box. And I have a lot of clothes from before becoming homeless that I can change into so I'm not constantly wearing the same clothes) but eventually people at this hypothetical new job will figure out that I live in a car (I can change my outfits and use dry shampoo on my hair, but trust me, from experience I know that I can really only go about a week and a half without a proper shower before it becomes very noticeable, no matter how much dry shampoo I use. I am a female woman with medium-length hair, for perspective) and will treat me differently and disrespect me and treat me as less than human. Or possibly take advantage of me, shoving extra work on me because I "need the money" and making me a scapegoat. Or worse, firing me. Sure, it's illegal (I think) but if they really want you gone, they can find any minor mistake you have made (and being new at a job, I will likely make a few) and use that as an excuse to fire me. Or lay me off due to "budget cuts" or some bullshit. If they want you gone, they can make it happen.

But most importantly, I don't feel good about myself. I've never had particularly high self-esteem, but in past interviews, I was able to list positive traits of mine and spin the less positive ones in a good light.

But now I don't even remember a positive thing about me. It doesn't help that my mother (whose car I live in) puts me down every chance she gets. Every day, she calls me a loser with a dead-end job and tells me I need to get a new job, without listening to what I tell her I need from her to do so. (She doesn't have a job, but of course that's not a problem) For example, I do not have word on my laptop. I need to go somewhere (library? the paperclips store? Unfortunately the work network place in my area that used to help with job applications, resumes, etc shut down) to use a computer with word to update my resume, as the one I have on my computer does not have my current job. (I tried to use the online version...what a nightmare. Also, sure there ARE resume websites where you can use their templates and make your resume....for a price. Usually $50+ that I can't afford for something I will use exactly once.) She refuses to help, even though I think her laptop has word, but I am not certain, and instead just repeats the same things over and over like a broken record. "You need to get a better job." "You're going to die a loser at a dead-end job if you don't quit." "You need to get a full-time job." (Sidenote: she herself has not even glanced at job listings. There are NO full-time jobs available, unless you are a licensed professional, a doctor, nurse, teacher, etc.)

But despite all of that, I need a new job. I held our for the holidays, thinking with the holiday rush, I'd get more hours and I could use that to keep me afloat while looking for a new job in the new year. Well. Our hours continually got CUT during the holidays and I suspect the store may go out of business and I do not want to still work there when it does. (Even though I would LOVE to watch it burn) The harsh reality is that I need a new job. I just have absolutely no faith that I can find anything much better than my current job. I expect the most I'll find is part-time of 20-30 hours per week, which is still better than 3-6 every other week, but I truly need a full-time job. Which will not happen.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[qqueenofhades]

hello, it's youngin anon once again. i need advice and i have no one to ask, so i figured i could ask you. it's a lot and long, so if you don't want to answer, feel free to ignore.

idk how familiar you are with immigrant child guilt, but it weighs on me immensely. my parents work very hard and i can see the way they struggle. i remember when i was young we didn't even have a bed! me and my siblings slept on cushions. i've seen the insane hours my dad has worked so as to afford me and my siblings a better and more comfortable life. both of my parents have put in a lot of work to give us good opportunities, starting with their immigration to the US.

in nigerian culture, education is extremely important, so as i grew up, my parents have always told me to focus on my education, telling me not to work and it did pay off bc i did end up as valedictorian. college, however is presenting a new set of problems.

my dad, who i am financially dependent on (and who is paying the tuition for the state uni where i'm enrolled) has made it abundantly clear that he thinks med school is the only valid career path. i told him that my roommate was studying comms and he said that she could become a lawyer or something, before looking me dead in the eyes and that wasn't an option for me. with him, it's med school or bust.

as long as i could remember, my parents have been telling me i was going to become a doctor. every time i asked my dad to get me something, he say, i'll do it and in the future, you'll become a doctor, right? and i would agree and that was that. i've answered to all the adults who asked me that i was was going to med school and they would all give me smiles of approval. if i mentioned any other career growing up i'd be ruthlessly shot down or gently persuaded about how much more security there was in medicine.

i was aware in high school that i didn't really want to be a doctor so i sort of set myself up, enrolling under my college's science school so as to cut off my own retreat path. i figured that if i was able to bear it during high school, i could bear it during college. but i can see my own behavior and i know that i don't really like STEM. not that it's a bad field! i just don't have any interest in it. i read the textbooks to learn enough to pass the test and that's it. i don't interact with my classmates or the professors or the material beyond what's needed to get an A. this is in sharp contrast to my history classes which i have been enthralled with. I took a world history class in the first semester enjoyed it immensely. last semester i took a war and violence in africa class and LOVED it. it made me want to become an African historian/Africanist. i talk to my professors, enjoy the readings, the assignments, all the new info i'm getting on the continent where my family originates. i go to my history classes and i want to be there. i want to learn.

i don't know if i could survive academia as a profession because i've seen you posting about the struggles from working in academia and there was a large strike at my school last semester because professors weren't earning enough. if it were a perfect world or if i had lots of money i would love to get my Ph.D focusing on West African history and be a history professor, but it's not, so. i've been thinking about law school as a happy compromise. i could go to law school with a undergrad history degree and if i went to law school i could also pursue JD/MA in History. i'm trying out some law classes next semester to see how i like them.

i'm now scared that if i were to transfer to a different school in my college my scholarship might be reduced. i'm also afraid that i would lose my parents' financial support if i chose to pursue a different career path and i have no actual work experience.

and i understand my parents' very valid concerns! both of them grew up poor in Nigeria and it was their STEM educations that afforded them better lives. they don't want me to experience that level of crushing poverty that heavily defined their youth. my mom tells me about her younger brother in Nigeria who struggles to get work with his masters. my dad tells me about co-workers' children who can't get jobs in their field of profession and have to work whatever jobs come their way. from what i've seen on the news, the future job market looks bad for the young people (around the world!). millennials are having problems and my generation isn't set to do much better.

is it fair to my parents to just disregard that and pursue work in the humanities? i want to do what i want, to just live my life, but it feels like it's not just my life. it would feel so selfish to just risk that all. whenever i talk to my parents about their journey in the US i feel like i should just suck it all up and go to med school. if my parents could suffer all of that, who i am to complain? do my struggles compare?

i feel like my sense of pragmatism and idealism are warring against each other. I don't like STEM, I'm good at it, good enough to get good grades in the classes, but it's not something i enjoy doing, but there's more job security. i love history and the humanities as a whole, but i might struggle with employment.

i'm semi-familiar with the path i would need to take to become a doctor. i would have to make it into med school (high GPA, experience in science research/labs, shadowing healthcare professionals, good recommendations, etc.), survive med school, survive residency (during which residents are worked like dogs), complete fellowships, and then i would be able to practice independently. and that would probably occupy the majority of my time. people have told me that med school is hard even for people that like medicine. for me who is just tolerating it, can i do it? and what about any future patients? is it fair to them?

my mom has always said that i could just get my second degree in whatever i wanted after i became a doctor, but i don't know if i would have the mental strength/energy/free time to go back to school after med school. i feel like if i grit my teeth and bared it for all my twenties i would lose the drive to do it my thirties. it feels like i've been putting off my living my life for my entire life. in middle school i thought about high school, in high school about college, and in college about post-graduate life. i'm tired of this constant look towards the future, but it's the only thing i know how to do. my brain is constantly asking "okay, and then what?"

if i go to med school and realize that i really can't do it, then i'll be trapped. it'll be too much debt to walk away from, too many years of my life dedicated towards that end goal of becoming a doctor. i feel like if i'm going to change my future plans, i should do it before sooner rather than later. 19 isn't too late to walk back but 26 might be.

but it's not like pursuing a career closer to what i want would be easier.

there's always this big fear in the background of, what if i fail? what if i risk it all to go to law school and i don't make it in? or i end up in a low-paying law job saddled with hundreds of thousands in student debt? or even if i make it to biglaw, i still end up burned out from all the hours that they work? wouldn't i still be miserable? i'm not super familiar with how law school works but i've done some lurking around @artielu's blog and law seems like something i should also go into in only if i'm sure.

(i'm not. i'm not sure of anything really.)

it feels like no matter what i'm going to be unhappy in the future. maybe everyone feels this way, maybe a certain level of unhappiness is normal in adult life. it just makes me feel so frustrated because i'm struggling so hard for what? idk. i'm also so desperately scared. i'm scared that one day i'll wake up in the my forties/fifties and realize that i hate my life. maybe i'll look back on this and lament how spoiled/whiny i was. idk. idk.

i'm not looking for an answer to this dilemma, i know this is a decision i'll have to make for myself, but i would appreciate any advice or even words of encouragement. thank you.

Welp. Okay, first of all, I am giving you a big virtual hug and sitting you down at your coffeeshop of choice. So imagine us talking there.

Second, thanks for pouring out your heart to me about this and your various other comments and chats over the years. I only know you as one of my favorite (shh) Tumblr anons on the internet, but I have always seen how thoughtful, smart, and hard-working you are, and I don't take it lightly that you trust me to listen to you and to give you good advice. (Or uh, let's hope, at least not bad advice? Jury's out.) Likewise, I'm absolutely sure that immigrant-child guilt is something to which a lot of my followers can very much relate, and would be happy to talk with you about. So if you are one of said followers and you'd like to encourage anon to reach out to you, please drop a note in the replies! I can't speak to this from personal experience, but I'd love to help connect you to others in your situation. Because yes, it IS absolutely a universal struggle for first- or second-gen immigrant kids: balancing cultural expectations of parents, American opportunities, feeling guilty if you do what you want, etc etc.

Third, and this is just me talking: if you absolutely feel this way, then no, I don't think you should go to medical school. I realize that this is far easier said than done, but if you continue to feel this strongly about it, then... you shouldn't be expected to do it, and that's just something that everyone in your family will have to come to terms with. After all, your parents came to America so you could be raised as an American, and there would be multiple pathways to success -- not whatever just they themselves had to do in order to get here in the first place. I'm afraid that you'll eventually have to bite the bullet and have an honest talk with your parents about this, but it may help if you present this as both your own success and THEIR success. After all, you're smart, talented, you have so many options, and you'll clearly succeed at whatever you choose to do. And that means THEY did their job right: they worked hard, they raised you right, they brought you to a place where there ISN'T just one narrow pathway to having a fulfilling and prestigious career. It doesn't mean they "failed" to make you a doctor. It means they succeeded in making YOU, and opening up so many more things for you to do.

Obviously: that's going to be hard either way, your parents are probably going to be upset, and that's very tough to deal with, especially if you're a close family unit and if you're financially dependent on them. You're the only one who can choose when to have the conversation and what might come of it, but it's still something that you do have the right to do. If you want to research other aid options or scholarship packages, or reach out to financial aid/admissions officers at other schools to see what it might take to transfer (that is, if you need to transfer), that's your right to do. You're an adult now and you have the right to take legal and personal responsibility for your own life. If you know what you want to do and how you want to do it: then again, isn't that why your parents came here? Isn't that what they were working to achieve?

Yes, academia is hard. No, there's no guarantee of getting a job. But there isn't the guarantee of getting a job in medicine either, especially if it's something you're forcing yourself to do and which (as you note) would impact negatively on you, your colleagues, and the patients you would be expected to serve. Especially post-Covid and in the American healthcare system: being a doctor/nurse/healthcare professional SUCKS! Even if you like it and feel called to do it, it still sucks, and the only people earning a lot of money from it are the senior/career/specialist types (as is the case in every field). Of course your parents have expectations and dreams for you, but they also don't get the right to control/dictate your entire adult life just by virtue of deciding to bring you into the world. After all, they did that, and that means embracing you as a person with your own choices. (And this goes for all people with controlling/bossy parents, regardless of immigrant or non-immigrant background). So again: this is what they wanted for you, and you've paid that off already.

I absolutely feel the "I spend all my time thinking/worrying about the future and being scared that I'll end up wasting my life" thing, which I think is common to a lot of high-achieving smart people (we are terminal overthinkers to a one). I can tell you now that life has a way of surprising you, and when you get a little older, you start becoming more comfortable with yourself, your accomplishments, your talents, and knowing what you're good at. So I don't think you will find that you've wasted anything. Likewise, when it comes to studying for advanced degrees in history: do you think it might help with your parents if you agreed to pursue a name-brand school? It's still not guaranteed, but trust me, going to a place like Harvard or Yale makes it tremendously easier to get a job or a future opportunity just by virtue of having that name on your CV and the people you will meet, and I have no doubt that you would be able to get in. As well, I don't really think your parents could argue with you going to an Ivy League, or think that you weren't applying yourself.

Likewise, if there is anything I can do to support you in this, please feel free to message me privately/off anon. I will write a letter of recommendation for you, I will see if I know a person who knows a person, I will help look at application materials, so forth and etc. I mean it: I WILL help you in the real world if I possibly can. I'm sure you have tons of other enthusiastic recommenders, but still. Also, I will say that despite the current (terrible) academic job market, I have seen quite a few openings for professors of African history/African studies/African-American literature and culture, and that's just in the US. There are also lots of opportunities around the world.

Anyway: I hope that's helpful to start with. I am giving you all the hugs. Please reach out to me again (especially via private message) if I can help with this in more tangible ways. And likewise, if any of my followers would like anon to reach out to them: please make a note in the replies. We can do this together.

<3

[quillkiller]

I have just seen this and maybe you have talked about it before but Effie x Walburga

I’m like shaken because I can’t imagine James mom ever wanting to be with someone probably cruel from birth. I mean they would have been together in the fifties, idk it made em giggle

would you all still love me if i said i was a walburga defender… :(

ok ive been pondering this all day, and ive also spent an insane amount of time on public transport trying to find a post i made in defence of walburga. @sugarsnappeases pulled up her laptop as my own personal hacker and stalker and couldnt find it either. however i found a snippet of an ’what are ur unpopular opinions’ ask and found this:

and that’s the gist of it. if anyone remembers the post i made or know how to find it pleaseeeeee send it to me. me and kara went through hell and back to try and find it :(((((((

anyway!

1. i hate the concept of people being born ’cruel’ or ’evil’. people are people and sometimes people do bad things. i think its important to still acknowledge that abusive people aren’t monsters who just couldn’t help themselves. abusers are people and those people chose to treat you like that. that was a choice they didn’t have to make, but they did. abusers aren’t monsters or monstrous. it’s important to me, due to personal experience, to remember that abuse is a choice. it allows me to feel betrayed and hurt and angry that a person chose to do that to me

2. i think walburga was a victim her whole childhood. atleast my own depiction of her. it’s different when she becomes an adult, has children, etc, and she should know better. there’s no excuse for her abuse towards her children/no excuse ever for abusive parents. and i want to be very clear about how there are NO excuses !!!!!! i am not team walburga and will never ever be team walburga !!!!!

3. walburga was a woman in the 70s, she held no power over orion what so ever. he was the man in the house. the head of the family. the abuse was allowed because quietly sat back and allowed it. absolutely ridiculous to me that walburga would be worse than orion. i simply think its an ignorant and misogynistic take. a silent father will always scare me more than the active abusive mother. like.. the patriarchy in the 70s in pure blood families ? lets be real here

ive seen posts saying orion was scared of walburga and thats why he never did anything. like are we being serious here. no way she got to choose her husband. and he’s a powerful man from a powerful family. in the seventies. why woud he be scared of her she has absolutely no power what so ever

4. i love exploring the womens narrative in the marauders fandom because their canonical narrative is based on sexism and the nuclear family. i guess you think it’s outlandish that effie would fall for walburga (cruel from birth) because shes james’ mother, and the anti walburga in the way she opens up her home and basically adopts sirius and makes a home for him ? to me that’s not interesting sadly :/ i love effiebarty because i get to explore good housewife effie tearing down her walls and acting on her desires and urges. like…. i want her to leave both james and monty behind out of pure selfishness. like.. im the girl writing the baby killing fic where lily is the sole survivor….

5. to me walburga is sort of similar to alicent from house of the dragon. what did she ever do that wasn’t expected of her? she was a girl in the 60/50s in a powerful family and had less choices than either reg or sirius ever did. she didn’t leave like sirius did. she stayed like regulus. and for similar reasons reg stayed probably. and she’s a woman. her sons are more priveliged than she will ever ever be. even disowned sirius is more priveliged than her.

6. i want to be very clear again. i am not a walburga apologist. i think there’s a clear distinction between her child- and adulthood. at some point the abuse becomes a choice. she didn’t break the cycle and she’s bad and rotten woman who abused her children. no excuses !!!!!!!!!! however. it is interesting exploring the circumstances which led to the woman she is

7. to actually answer your question. i dont necessarily care for effie/walburga but i can see the appeal. maybe i’ll get into it we’ll see……. like honestly they wouldn’t be that different from jegulus?

[rivetgoth]

I really dont think people have any empathy for detransitioners as a reaction to how they’re used by anti-trans crowds. To the point even “allies” downplay (trans people) or parentalize (transphobes) their medical, social, and personal struggles. There’s just no good platform for us to talk with each other without us biting at each others heels. What you said is totally right I’m just tired and ranting lol. Thank you for your post

it really, really sucks (and I have seen with my own eyes) that the politicization of “detransitioning” as an action and “detransitioner” as an identity has led to the snowball effect of trans spaces, at least online (thankfully haven’t seen quite the same response around trans people I know irl, but I don’t want to imply that the behavior of large online trans spaces are inconsequential), sort of beginning to hold this suspicion or even disdain towards actual detransitioners. I feel like at least weekly I see someone on one of the big trans subreddits mention being scared of talking to detransitioners or otherwise triggered by hearing about detransitioners or reading their stories or anything. Or I just see “detransitioner” be used broadly and conflated with the transphobic grifters heading the detrans movement. I really don’t like that.

I think part of where my sadness about this comes from, other than the obvious stuff that I kinda wish didn’t have to be said, like the fact that I am friends with detransitioned people who are lovely, that we know objectively from studies done on this topic that the majority of detransitioners do so for external reasons such as social rejection, lack of access, safety concerns, etc, the fact that many people who detransition do not identify as cis, or the fact that many detransitioners are gonna have many overlapping material experiences as us when it comes to the interpersonal and on occasion even systemic mistreatment of gender and sex nonconforming individuals… is just the fact that I personally have learned a TON from detransitioners myself, and I’ve found their insights into gender and sex to be extremely helpful in conceptualizing my own identity and how it pertains to my body and my transition. It was a detransitioner who first turned me on to the reconceptualization of medical transition as a form of body modification and the question of trans rights being one within a larger conversation of bodily autonomy. I think their experience as someone who exercised their autonomy to change their body and ultimately came to the decision it wasn’t right for them gave them a lot of personal wisdom about these intricacies.

I am sympathetic to some extent that many of the trans people who express frustration towards detransitioners are doing so because they’re tired of the identity being used as ammo to further regressive anti-autonomy laws, but I’m kind of admittedly equally sympathetic to non-transphobic detransitioners who harbor frustration towards aspects of the modern trans community (such as the pervasive rhetoric I really strongly dislike but see quite often that claims “anyone who questions if they’re trans is probably trans,” which IMO does the opposite of uplift questioning people’s right to, well, QUESTION, even if they realize they’re ultimately not actually trans, and does erase the very healthy experience of questioning if transition is right for you and being wrong, as well as the reality of detransitioners existing at all) or at the larger system (such as how little informed consent doctors often actually know about HRT before prescribing it—many such cases), even if both of these frustrations are mis-aimed. This is a literally life or death topic within broader global politics for some and I get tension is high. I want to explicitly make clear I’m talking pretty complex intracommunity relations so I can avoid characterizing the trans community as like overtly hostile or irrational. That’s obviously not true.

But idk? I guess just speaking within/as a member of the trans community I wish there was more space for detransitioners to speak and I wish that detransitioners weren’t seen as a source of like… fear. Tbh I understand that it’s partly a reaction to the politicization of the identity and the way it’s weaponized against trans people, but I do kind of get the sense, and this is a more grave accusation but I think I’m right to say it, that some trans people are just… scared of seeing detransitioned people because they don’t want that to be them, and they’re scared to face their own internal fear of regret or being wrong, and in turn are harboring some level of fear and disgust at the idea of being a gender/sex nonconforming person. I think some members of the trans community have internalized this fear of regret to the point that they see detransitioned and other sex nonconforming individuals as almost caricatures of themselves or “worst case scenarios.” It reminds me of how extremely cruel certain trans people can be to non-passing trans people or gender nonconforming trans people or intersex people. I think there is a fear of transition “failing” that, while understandable as a personal/internal fear when you’re battling dysphoria and taking such a huge step and doing something so potentially socially and politically loaded, kinda sucks when it’s projected out onto others. Very reminiscent of the annoying ass trans people who claim that “second hand dysphoria” (seeing a trans person who doesn’t pass or does something you wouldn’t, usually something pertaining to stereotypes associated with their AGAB ex. a trans man who wears pink, and becoming dysphoric over it) is a thing.

I guess I just feel like sex and gender nonconformity as well as the exercising of one’s bodily autonomy—even to an end that ultimately one regrets—are all good things, and I feel like we can all learn from each other and all should be aligning with each other and building community with each other, including facing and having open minded and empathetic discourse around the idea of regretting one’s choices when we do act on them… Having support systems in place for those who need it is crucial to allowing people autonomy to begin with, similarly to how I believe drugs should be decriminalized but with that should come an overhaul in how we treat those struggling with addiction (including an overhaul of the legal system), sex work should be decriminalized but with that should come tangible material and system-wide support not just for sex workers but within the entire labor industry. With autonomy comes the risk of regret. I’m very pro-regret, I’m pro-the right to do things you’ll regret, and I am very anti-criminalization for the sake of trying to save people from regret or protect people from themselves. It’s the same reason I feel a lot of solidarity with cis people who undergo extreme body modification, whether or not it’s to an end that they’re satisfied with, as long as they aren’t propagating anti-autonomy rhetoric, and it’s interconnected with the same reason I’m pro-drug and pro-choice and pro-sex work.

[brunchable]

hey i really love your posts so i wonder if i could make a request of a dead avenger reader x stephen strange. the reader died during the fight with wanda, stephen could not get over her death so he decided to take a walk around ny to clear his mind but ends up feeling way worse becuase everything around him reminds him of her so like a bit of flashbacks and stuff!! i feel like this would be very angsty with some fluff ofc. idk this might be too long but if you could i would like to see where you would go with it!!

Till There Was You || Doctor Strange x Dead!Avenger Reader

Word count: 1.4K Genre: Angst. :( Warning: Character death. Brief Story Summary: Stephen tries to take his mind away from you by taking a walk around the neighbourhood, only for his memories of you to come flooding through. Dedicated to: @strangeobsessed A/N: I am so sorry this took so long.

It’s been a month since the thing Stephen had feared the most had happened and he's got no one to blame but himself for not resisting you, he was the one that led you to your demise. No matter how many times Wong or America tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault, he still took the blame upon himself. He knows he needs to start moving on but the love he had left for you was hindering him. How could he move on from a woman who had left a strong mark on him? 

You took your last breath in the hospital where you succumbed to your injuries during the battle with Wanda. You opened your eyes and smiled at him when you saw him by your side, and then closed them again as you began to flat line. It was the last time he saw you awake and alive. He got up to give you a kiss on the forehead, at which point your heart started and beat for a couple more seconds, and then slowly stopped again. 

Your soft, fragile hands grew cold like stone. Stephen exhaled what was left of his sanity. Every second he shared with you travelled through his mind. He was unable to control his sobbing, and tears flowed freely from his eyes. Regrets and shame about the times he was mad at you or didn’t come see you in the hospital, consumed his body with guilt and pain. He could not comprehend what was happening. The thought of being alone once again in this god forsaken world, scared him. Never again would he see you smile. Never again would you call him Doctor Wizard, a nickname you used to tease him with that he’s grown to love.

The weight of his heart could bring him to his knees, “I love you, I’m sorry.” Stephen whispered, leaning over the hospital bed. His heart sank to his feet. He thought, what’s the point of living his life if you’re gone? The closer you became, the harder it was for him to lose you and the longer it took for his heart to heal. 

Stephen rushed out of the Sanctum to clear his mind, even though the Sanctum was huge, it felt like a confined space where memories of you just came to haunt him. He didn’t want to be reminded that you were gone. He didn’t know what to do with the rest of your things, everyday the little reminders you left like photos, plushies, paintings and books gets harder to look at. Whoever said that it gets easier over time was a liar—he couldn’t even hold a photo of you in his hands without his hands trembling. He has considered giving away all your stuff because it was hard to keep it around—it makes him feel like you were still there, that you’re going to come back. 

A couple holding hands walks past Stephen, reminding him of what’s missing. The touch of your hands, the warmth it gave him and the sense of you beside him. Maybe it was better if he stayed inside because even out here, everything reminds him of you. Butterflies flew around the flowers in Central Park and one landed on his shoulder. You loved butterflies, and since you died, he’s had them land on him with strange regularity wherever he was around the world. 

“Oh my gosh! Stephen, look!” You pointed enthusiastically at the Blue Morpho you spotted in the park garden. 

“What exactly am I looking at?” Stephen squinted his eyes, trying to spot what you were pointing at.

“The blue iridescent butterfly, can you see? Over there!” You pointed at the most unique one in the garden. 

Stephen finally spotted the butterfly and nodded, “Wow, it’s very pretty.” 

“I know right? But you know what’s sad? They would never know how beautiful they are because they can’t see their wings.” 

“Sounds like someone I know.” Stephen chuckled and looked at you. 

You rolled your eyes and bumped him with your shoulder, “Don’t try to get cheesy with me—I’ll throw you to the moon.” 

The butterfly stayed on his shoulder even though he continued on walking through the path, “Don’t get cute with me—I’m mad at you for leaving me behind.” Stephen mumbled under his breath, as he started a conversation with a butterfly.

He chuckled to himself, “Look what you did to me, I’m going crazy, talking to a butterfly…ridiculous.” 

Stephen climbs up the hill and finds the spot in the grass where you and him used to lay together to stargaze with the telescope you recklessly bought. The butterfly flew off as he laid down on the grass to look at the cloudy sky. You used to talk in this spot for hours on end, laughing at each other’s jokes while you waited for the sky’s colours to change. For a long moment, it was as if he could feel you laying beside him. If he turns his head to look, he’d see you with your hands pointed towards the sky, showing him all the constellations you knew of, your eyes sparkling as you talk about all the things that interest you—but he didn’t dare to look because he was afraid to see the empty space beside him.

Stephen took a deep breath as he felt the pressure behind his eyes building up and tears rolled down the side of his face, he missed your presence the more he imagined that you were there beside him. 

“Damn it— I wish you were here.” He whispered towards the heavens, “I wish you were really there, right next to me. I wish I could look over and see the fascinated expression in your eyes when you look at the stars—see you smiling back at me. I wish I could tuck your hair behind your ears again and tell you how beautiful you are—I don’t know how to move on from you.” He says through his tears, a sharp pain stabs through his chest as the weight of his own wishes hits him. Stephen covered his eyes with his arm, his expression tightened as if all of his facial muscles were holding in his emotions which he failed to suppress—choking on a small but audible sob. 

The last heartfelt conversation you had with him entered his mind, in the amount of months you’ve been together you never once asked why he chose you because you never doubted how he felt about you—but on that particular day, you were curious, you felt the urge to know why he loves you. You knew you wouldn’t be at peace if you didn’t ask.

You were sitting on the opposite chair from Stephen while you stared at him. He nibbled at the end of his pen while reprinting certain spell books since the snow had destroyed them.

He couldn’t ignore the way you were staring at him, so he looked up at you.

"Something wrong?" He asked. Because he recognised the way you were looking at him, there was a trace of worry in his voice since he wasn’t really fond of that kind of look.

"Why do you love me?"

The words that came out of your lips pierced him right to his very centre. Such a simple question, yet you couldn't see the answer? From the opposite side, he grabbed both of your hands. The words that he spoke came out of his lips in a stream, an answer that he had thought about so much that it was almost automatic.

"The way your eyes light up when you become excited about something is one of the reasons why I love you. In spite of your opinion that you think your laugh sounds like a dying pig, I love you because your laughter makes my heart soar. You are the reason I love myself, because you give me hope when it feels like the entire world is against me. I adore you because of the way that you express your affection for me, whether it is by a single touch or a million words. Either way, I know that I am loved by you. Because you’re always there for me when I'm having a bad day. Cause my day won’t be made until I feel your presence next to me. There are many reasons as to why I love you, my dear. But there's only one way for me to properly summarise it."

As the smile that he loved so much grew over your face, he gave you the summarised response to the question you had asked.

"I love you, because you're you. And that's all that matters to me. My world was dark and grey, till there was you."

TAGS: @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @elicheel @sherlux @lucywrites02 @stanny-uwu @frostandflamesfanfic @jamiethenerdymonster @oakl3y @zdhunn @captaincarmel164 @justsomecreaturewandering @soiopathicdetectivekid @fan-of-fic @gaitwae @shit-post-things @seasonofthenerd @patbrdac @evelynrosestuff @singhfae @severuined @mischiefmanaged71 @farfromjustordinary @drstrangesgirl91 @spideyyhoe @lovecleastrange @samisubi @mochuchi @faithinhome @ohchoices @junkertown-princess @sigyncevans @giorgiblog17 @dragonqueen89 @the-royal-petals @hiddlechive @peachypie97 @ghost-lantern @sleutherclaw @the-mouse27 @zelspktr @bobateadaydreams @lykaonimagines @valbensherstep @strangeobsessed @calsjack @strangeions @romanvffa @crowleyspett @goldencherriess @jyessaminereads @fandom-lover-4 @tis-vereon @rbymoon

[thisdreamplace]

hi hi! i’ve been seeing some non dualism posts lately and been getting super confused and worried, and i was hoping to clear some stuff up through blogs that i trust haha

the idea of not being one’s ego is a little confusing and scary to me? while i think i understand that all is one/we all come from one source and are connected, i still get confused over my identity in terms of godself and ego.

if i’m not my identity(ego) then what about my family and friends who i love? am i no longer connected to them? can i lose them? the idea that they don’t exist or that i don’t actually love them is incredibly distressing and makes me sad, if i’m being honest. (and does that sad come from the ego? is this all an illusion? i’m so confused lmao)

i also don’t really know where desires come from, you know? if they come from the ego, then do i even love these things?

i’m so sorry if this is super heavy or confusing, this stuff has just been weighing on my soul lately and i’m realizing that i don’t really understand identity/ego haha :,)

hiiii <3

i definitely understand some of your fears and worries with the way nonduality can be explained sometimes. but let me tell you that, you are something. and that is love. that's the true essence of god: pure, unconditional love. so actually, no you cannot lose them and in truth, you are much more connected to them than your ego can realize. you are one, there is no seperateness between you.

desires come from the heart :) and yeah, sometimes desires do come from the ego. but its not that big of a deal... with time, and along the journey, you learn how to tell the difference. it's all part of the journey though, so nothing is actually wrong. it's just a guide, more than anything.

when it comes to identity... the truth is that your identity only exists as is because of the story you tell yourself. and i won't pretend that can't feel scary. because we as humans its very important for us to feel in control, and feel in the know. so its scary to think we aren't who we think we are. but this is actually liberating, because it means freedom. it means a choice to be able to be someone who lives a beautiful and loving life.

idk if youve ever heard of the i am love blog, but jen and some of the other people over there touch on this topic really well without making you feel as scared and confused ! i would tots rec some posts from them. <3 rec, rec, rec,

anyways, i hope this helps you some ! xo

[mrs-monaghan]

I find all the things you've implied or said about Stormblessed95 really interesting considering you haven't been around the Tumblr spaces very long. You also seem to have no problem saying all these nasty things about her and others who follow her without much proof. Why are you even bringing other bloggers into it like that and saying they follow her lead when if you read their posts and masterlists none of them agree on everything? Stormblessed95 is one of the first to say that we don't all have to have a hive mind. I don't agree with everything she says but to call her the Jikook version of Tkk lives is just wrong. Seems like you're more like Regina George than her. Even going so far as to insult other blogs who may agree with her. I wonder did all these people jumping on the bandwagon believing you bother to investigate whether you were telling the truth or not. It’s one thing to block someone because they are actually hating on Tae by saying he is feeding his shippers and bringing hate to Jimin which several Jkks and Anons have said vs. blocking people that disagree with you on if Tae is acting weird or not. The blogs taking the first approach all have said hating on the members is a no go and I agree. Blocking for disagreeing is not what's happening and they made that clear. I guess as someone who has lurked for a long time and have interacted with a lot of blogs on here to see some of those same people joining in to attack Stormblessed95 is pretty sad. Disagree with her fine, but to say she threatens, bullies and chases other bloggers away just because she didn't agree with you isn't right.

Hello minion, 👋🏽 how did u find me? That was fast 👀

I don't need to have been here too long to see what's happening. And I know quite a number of people who have seen the fuckery that's been going on n have been here for years. No one is as bad as Tkk lives in that she helps spread the Jimin hate. My comparison to her and Storm is simply because of how the cult listens to her and does what she says and here on tumblr people listen to storm and do what she says. They are scared of her or going against her.Jikookers have been complaining about her in private but of course can't post about it. And she has been known to DM people to tell them off. Idk who she thinks she is, but anyway. Thats why we're here. You can defend her all u want but it dont change the fact that serendipitybegins and wsj are gone because of something she did

And those are only 2 blogs that I know of. I'm being told there's more. For the record if any other Storm defender sees this, I am not American and where I come from we don't believe or bow down to this bullying bullshit. So you ain't running me off just coz I spoke my truth.

Stream Like Crazy and Set me Free Part 2! ✌🏽

[nwarrior777]

the conversation

(just scroll to the end of the post if you want some blog news and not philosophy from blog author in a little strange life... place?)

upd: no, let's do vise-versa - here is the news, and if you want some philosophy open under the cut

The news is here:

life: is this your way to tell followers that you are not sure about timing and days and in general of your online and art posting for next week(s)?

me: yeah. :)

life: FUCK OFF-

me: omg i found piece. idk why but i feel calm. i feel no fear. i am so confident

life: get out from the flat and take your things, you have 1 day :)

me: lol ok

life: .....wh-....? "lol" "ok"?

me: yeah

life: "yeah"?

me: you will just repeat shit after me or what

life: i mean it was supposed to be like. a test

me: mmmm. maybe? but idk. more of a like. a situation

life: stop talking like that you little shit, i am trying to scare you!

me: if you will do a thing to human for 26 years every day he will used to it yk

life: what thing?????

me: trying to scare?

life: you bitch!!!!!! you was a nervous shivering wet cat for your whole life, wtf happened!!!

me: well, things? like, good health treatment, job experience, that one birthday when i decided to leave all the shitty thing in the past and move forward and had a loot of free space for New now. a oh and that night at the bar! and that's not all!

life: night at the bar, WH- how the F it can change anyth-

me: and like that thing with "oh happy monument! oh it's not happy anymore because i think about it will end and sad things will came". this shit is done too! i mean. i accepted it? like. things will end! what a surprise! they will end anyway. it is impossible to always have only good situations, they like. You know that zebra shit, it is working. Why people don't think "oh this shit is very sad! but i feel so happy because this sad thing will end and happy one will come!". Happy things happens and ends, sad things too. I am just feeling that is happening atm

I am just doing things, doing my destiny which i choose, and fun things which i love. And i feel happy because a lot of happy things happening! And, well. Shit happened, what a shock! Well, i will take it as a test. But i am not a "i want only a+" guy in the class anymore. I am not even in the class! I just have a situation and i will just do something about it! That's how situations works!

life: but it's emergency situation!!!

me: nah, not really, i wanted to move out long time ago. kinda needed kick in the butt. the only uncomfortable thing here is a surprise. and kiiinda not-clear future. but, lol, when it was clear?

life: LBGRRRRRBGufshgsfRRRRRRR-

me: i am kinda tired of every my thought being setup-punch line joke, so meh. not this time! ha!

[2dents]

20 Questions for fic Writers!

Okay so, I was tagged by @outtoshatter and I'm just going to take a swing at this. Here we go.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 22.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

202,411.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for Dungeons and Daddies, Nark specifically. But I also have a couple in there for the Teen Wolf Sterek fandom.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

But You Have Heard of Me [ Teen Wolf, M, Wc: 82,014] (my baby!) The Taste of Perfume [DnDads, M, Wc: 58,717] (wip) Sudoku [DnDads, G, Wc: 5,226] Uno Attack [Dndads, G, Wc: 5,717] A Consuming Faith [Dndads, E, Wc: 33,963] (My baby wip! I'm aiming for another 80k with this one.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely I do! If someone takes the time out of their day to not only read my silly little stories, but also comment on them, I will absolutely reply! Unless they're mean I guess? I haven't had any mean/rude comments yet so knock on wood. lol

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I love angst. I write it into a lot of things. But as far as endings go... hmm. Well I guess that title would currently go to one of my drabbles, A Done Deal [DnDads, G, Wc: 100] but without giving away spoilers one of my wips is going to take that title as soon as I get around to writting it lol.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh, But You Have Heard of Me [ Teen Wolf, M, Wc: 82,014]. My baby~! Happy ending and maybe one day it will have a happy sequel.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I feel like I'm going to jinx myself by saying no. I haven't recieved any rude or hateful comments on any of my fics. Not even when I posted on LJ.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I am not confident when it comes to writing smut. I used to write a lot of it back on LJ. Now I just Fade To Black, but I do have plans to maybe write some for a wip. But idk we will see when we get there.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope! I wrote a fusion fic, But You Have Heard of Me [ Teen Wolf, M, Wc: 82,014] but no crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had I believe 2 fics translated on LJ, but not on Ao3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Hahaha, yes! On LJ my irl bestie and I wrote a fic together! It was very cute, we each did a chapter following one half of the ships pov. I'd love to do it again some day it was super fun! What I really wanna do is get a bunch of different writers involved in doing a collaboration where the characters are stuck waking up in different timelines, so each chapter could be a different one-shot by a different author but they all connect. I think it would be fun.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Sora/Riku. I don't write for this ship but I will fight god about them. I've been obsessed with them since I was 12 and played Kingdom Hearts. I have fics I've been re-reading for alkjsdflks way too long omg. When I played Kh3 and Riku showed up I screamed so loud it scared my partner. You can pry them from my cold dead fingers okay.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hahaha, I just recently posted this fic to my Ao3. A Divine Move [Teen Wolf, M, 8,676] Stiles is a horror game character (based off games like Until Dawn and The Blair Witch Project) and Derek is from a dating sim (Based off Hunnypop lol) It was going to get an E rating cause I had some absolutely slasher ideas for Stiles game and the plot was loosely adapted from Wreck-It-Ralph. So, maybe one day I'll get the inspiration back, but as of now it's just not there.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have been told I have a very clear writing voice and that I'm very good at setting a scene and showing it to the reader. I think my main strength is my humor. lol I find myself very funny.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

A lack of confidence alksdfjalksd. I get so anxious trying to make sure that the movie in my head is being translated into word correctly that I sometimes over do things. Also I have the absolute worst grammar, and spelling omg.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If I don't speak the language enough to be confident that I'm using the words correctly I just do the "They said in language" kinda thing.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Okay, lmao. Okay okay. It was for the Gorillaz back when Demon Days had just come out.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

My two babies that I'm the most proud of are

But You Have Heard of Me [ Teen Wolf, M, Wc: 82,014]

I spent a year writting it and I made several friends because of it. It is my baby and I love it. I re-read it and still laugh at it.

A Consuming Faith [Dndads, E, Wc: 33,963]

I have been putting so much work into this fic and it's really pushing me as a writer. I have been obsessed with cult and demons since I was young, probably too young lol, so this is just basically 3 of my hyper-fixations coming together in a fun way. I have big plans for this fic and I'm very excited about it. I've been working on it for 7 months now, and I'm really hoping I can finish it before the end of the year.

Thanks for the tag! I'm going to tag some people and maybe they'll play along too, no pressure though and I have no clue what I'm doing so sorry if you didn't want to be tagged. @evanesdust @nottoolateforthegame @siogosho @missanniewhimsy @calamity-unlocked

[moregraceful]

OTP asks: Luka/Miro in Handcrafted, #49 (LOL) also #1 and #15 // ALSO Thom/Blake in Seasoned beginner, #16, #44, #53 (if you feel like it!)

Omg thank you I have wanted to talk about Handcrafted more literally since I posted it and no one ever asked!! Also thank you for asking Thom/Blake, I am on the rarepair train always and forever. Also on the Caltrain local, so here forever. Under a cut bc I don't trust myself to keep it normal.

Luka/Miro in Handcrafted

49. Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

Luka does 😭 their red string of fate will NOT let them be. But also Luka is bored and sad and in love and he misses his team and he thinks Miro doesn't like him. Often when he goes walking, it's just to clear his head and get some fresh air. He knows he'll get trapped, he knows he'll get scared, and he thinks someday Miro WON'T come find him, but he's an athlete and a human, he can't be inside all the time. He just walks out the door every couple of days praying Miro still comes to help him.

Also very fun to write Luka with big emotions that are: anxiety and sadness and so much love. Love that big emotional baby.

1. Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

Luka because he has 5000 emotions, the crux of which is: he loves Miro, plain and simple and huge. Miro getting hella steamed abt Luka getting trapped in a warehouse by dogs with too many teeth - why were you in a warehouse Luka? Don't you know you'll get stuck? Why do you do these things? Why do you do this to yourself? Luka lets out a defeated "because I love you and I want to be near you but you don't want me near you." Miro clenches his jaw and thinks about the days when they slept together in an uncomplicated way, fooling around in bedrooms on their off days. But maybe it was always complicated, he thinks, for Luka.

15. Do they always say 'i love you' before leaving?

Luka does bc he's so goofy and pathetic. Every time Miro rescues him and Roope feeds them and Miro sends him home, he stands on Esa's porch and tells Miro he loves him before he goes. It takes Miro a long time to say he loves Luka back and that's in a hypothetical future I'm still puzzling out, but in Handcrafted Dallas, Luka says I love you as much as he can. I love you, he says every time he leaves Miro, because maybe this is the last time he sees Miro. Maybe Miro says it back. Maybe Luka won't be alone this time (he is ☹️)

Thom/Blake in Seasoned Beginner

16. Can they stay up all night just talking?

If their schedules ever matched up...yes ideally, but also not really, because their schedules are opposite. They get like five seconds together during the NHL bye week before pitchers and catchers report in February. They spend three glorious days together in Blake's house in Southern California where Thom meets approximately five billion family members and spends every night post-coital with his face smashed into Blake's chest trying to breathe through the anxiety of how much Blake's family likes each other and how they like him. They think his accent is cute and Blake's mama told Thom that Blake talks about him a LOT. Thom is stressed about what that means. Thom is stressed about many things. Blake holds him close and talks about the off-season signings the Giants have made and what his buddies have been up to, names of men Thom barely knows. He wonders if it's too late to quit hockey and be Blake's full time boyfriend.

44. Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

This is so hard to imagine bc they're both huge dorks...I think Blake would be dancing to idk some horrendous EDM while cooking and I think Thom would be helpless with lust. boy can Blake move those hips!! Thom knows like, Quebec folk dances. He doesn't know club dancing. Or like any kind of sexy dancing. Blake ALSO doesn't know any kind of dancing except Samoan dances but at this point Thom is in stupid deep and thinks everything Blake does is cool and sexy. He watches from the doorway until Blake notices and tells him to either kiss him or chop the zucchini.

53. Would they ever go skinny dipping?

Yes!!!!! And they love it!!!! They have a great time. Deep in summer when Blake has his all star break, they rent a house on the river in like....Placerville or Coloma idk and spend a couple of days just floating around the American river and playing on a tire swing and grilling wild amounts of meat and they're down so bad for each other it's kind of funny. And one day when it's later at night and all the tourist rafting companies are done for the day, they go skinny dipping at Thom's suggestion. And gosh how Blake looks in the moonlight in the water 😳 they have amazing sex after that, Thom wanted to do it outside but there were too many bugs lol.

Thank you for asking my friend!! I appreciate it!!!

[ctommysworld]

intro post <333

hi !!! i'm annie, i'm bisexual & aroace, & i use any pronouns <33

this is. my dsmp sideblog because i'm a little too scared 2 post about it on main !! i will mainly be posting about c! tommy & things that went on with him because he has been a blorbo before i even knew what a blorbo was lmao

uhhhh extra things !!! i don't have a dni (i'll just. block you) but politely fuck off if you support wilbur soot (i may still post about c! wilbur but i want 2 make it very clear that i do Not support him as a person he is a vile man) & that includes 'separating the art from the artist' (does not count of the artist is Still alive & making money. i also don't know how you can even hear his voice without feeling ill) .

i follow / like from @victoriawaterfield !!! i am also a doctor who enjoyer. & i have this really elaborate doctor who au that i may talk about more later. idk !!!

this blog is 2 just post my hcs. tbh. idek how much i will use it

that's all !!! <3

[screentime-princess]

Some thoughts on Titans (hbo max) now that show ended.

(In my head it's not over, bc I'm big on rewatching things so... anyways)

Okay. So first thing I want to make clear is that I'm super new to DC and stuff. I've seen arrowverse, most of it, and some movies, also I really like and care about these characters even though show isn't the best, as I hear everyone say and I kinda agree. But still I like the show!!!

Another thing is that I've seen a lot of people hate on this show and I get that it's not the best show, like writing is sometimes very iffy but I think that it's a good introduction to these characters for someone who has never seen anything or read the comics or stuff like that.

Next one is that I am one season short of finishing Gotham and then I plan on watching DC Animated Universe. So I guess my opinions from this post, might change in the future.

So yeah. Here it goes.

I liked the way first season focused on characters and not so much story even though the bigger story was always it like in the back of the episode(s). But I really enjoyed the fact that it was focused mainly on characters of Dick, Hank. Dawn etc. Who they are as people and how what happened to them is influencing their actions. I really liked every character introduction fr.

Even though I watched the show in like few weeks and then waited for last few episodes to come out week by week, I feel like they should have made Dick and Kory cannon or whatever way sooner. They did, kinda, in those dreams/hallucinations, but still, as much as I like this little kind of open ending, I feel like they have so much chemistry, and it just should've happened sooner. When they were in Gotham that Barbara again storyline, I don't know. That wasn't my cup of tea. Also, the flashback episode with Aqualad in season 2, why introduce a character to be killed?! Give us something else than a cute little love story between Donna and Garth and then pain. I don't know. It was so sudden and I don't like character deaths just for the sake of story line.

One thing I did really like was Gar and Rachel, from the beginning from their first meet-cute in the arcade. It was so freaking cute. The fact that they are different, special, that mutual understanding and acceptance ugh. I don't know why we didn't get that like cannon confirmation that they are a thing. We got all those like little cute scenes of them sitting together and stuff but I don't know, I just needed something real just as for Dick and Kory.

As for other characters, I really liked everyone. Conner's little split good and evil personas. Dawn is the most gentle soul I love her so much. Hank was annoying at moments but he was fine. Donna is the beauty, she is grace. <Tim3 (that's how I feel about him). (And I rant about Jason later, wait for it). I don't know what to say like, I really really liked everyone.

Now, maybe I do a separate post about season 4 because it's the, you know, the freshest one in my head but I did rewatch some of the episodes so idk.

As I'm writing this, I see that it's not all like in chronological order as the seasons progress, but I hope you get the gist of it. I wanted to say that I cannot imagine in my head waiting entire week for the episode about Connor after Jason gets dropped off a building even though I knew that's not how he dies fr, I was scared shitless, like, I love him so much, I don't know. Also that fucking scene on the roof killed me, like it seriously messed me up and no one ever talked about it ever again (him being suicidal). Also Dick going of alone every chance he gets to do stupid shit that would 100% get him killed (babe have you heard of therapy, no?).

The thing that bothered me the most, throughout the entire show is how only Gar seemed to care about others. He was the only one to care about anyone. Only one who gave a fuck when Jason died. Like when Kory was mad @ Jason for "getting himself killed"<<<< (what?). He was the only one that was trying to find out what happened to Jason and how he came back. And he did find out (Go Gar).

I know now that that is most likely because of his connection to all the things dead and living, but they explained it very late in the show, so for someone who has no background knowledge, it was confusing.

Major thing that bothers me -> Why is everyone hating on... Literally everyone. Like these people, actors and actresses did in my opinion, amazing job. Considering the writing, okay?

Like let's be fucking for real. This is the first live action adaptation of these characters. And it could have been so much worse. Let's be honest. It could have been so.much.worse. But it's fine and I think that if people are just okay, with something being different, it would have been fine. Like it doesn't have to be the same as in comics. And from what I heard, there are many interpretations of these characters in different comics and different animated series. I don't understand why everything has to be by the book. Like I've been a MCU fan for a while. And l feel like as much as Marvel fans are like haters at the bottom of their souls (not as much as Star Wars fans) and they are (haters), I feel like they appreciate change a little more. (Haters comment is about fanboys don't get ne wrong babes)

It's fine that it's different. Different is okay. Most of hate I've seen is about Jason. And I don't know, like, people calling him a whining c word?!?!?!? Sorry, why is it bad that he's portrayed with more emotions? Or him feeling like he is not good enough (relatable) and always being second thought would bring anyone to tears (it brought me to tears). So why is that a bad thing in portrayal of this character? Like I said, I know very little about his character and I feel like this introduction is fine, it made me care about him. Isn't that what other people in the fandom want? For other people to care. Why does it have to be a specific version? It made me care. That should be enough no? It made me want to learn more about these characters. So why is everyone so offended by this version of Jason Todd? It doesn't make any sense in my head. I was literally losing my shit watching episode 11 of season 4. Last week was peek of my existence because of him showing up again. I have no words.

So yeah, I don't know. I have so many thoughts about this show and no one to talk to because my friends are lame, not watching the same shows I'm watching, watching Bridgerton and shit (no hate to Bridgerton fans).

<3 if you read it all, thank you <3