#sometimes I think I am being too harsh on myself and I think I should stop. then I worry I will never accomplish anything and I will get

[yourbleedingh3art]

Sometimes I just really don’t want to be spoken to and somebody speaks to me and I’m like

[anashins]

i love the snow in london fic! I didn't see the plot twist coming haha.

Also may i request a jeno-jaehyun-reader love triangle? :)

Pairing: Jeno x Reader x Jaehyun

Genre: angst, romance

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Jeno will always pick up the phone when you call. In every lifetime, in every universe, he will pick up.

A/N: Thanks for liking my story and for requesting! This is based on a real life conversation I had with my summer-situationship lol We are stronger than this, girlies!

“Why are you calling me?’”

“Why are you picking up?”

“I will always pick up when you call,” you heard Jeno say over the phone. “You know that.”

Turning your head against the night sky, you - once again - realized how lucky you actually were. You had a boyfriend of two years who loved you very much, you had moved into your first apartment with him and marriage was in the talks between you.

You should be entirely happy.

But you weren’t.

As you were standing on your balcony at 3 am, you realized that the man who was sleeping peacefully in the bedroom and the man you were calling because you missed him so much weren’t the same person.

“You texted me first a few days ago.” It shouldn’t sound like an accusation, so you quickly added, “And ever since then, I’ve been thinking of you again.”

“Again?” A chuckle followed that made you smile secretly. “Oh honey, you can’t tell me you haven’t been thinking of me at all. I bet you have even kept my pictures in your phone, looking at them every now and then while your boyfriend is sleeping soundly next to you.”

You hated how cocky he sounded. And how right he was. In your secret folder, you had kept all the memories you had made with Jeno in the short period you had been together. 

Could you even call it ‘being together’? You had spent a great summer together, having fallen in love so quickly and deeply like never before in your life. You had thought that this was it, that your feelings were finally reciprocated and you got the fairytale-like happy ending you had always dreamed of.

The fairytale had quickly turned into a nightmare the moment he had claimed to love you too, but not wanting to be with you, because he couldn’t see himself being in a relationship, leaving you heartbroken like never before in your life over a man who you had only known for three months.

How come letting go of a situationship was so much harder than letting go of a long term relationship?

“Don’t say that,” you chided.

“I said that because I’m doing that too, you know. Our memories are my most beloved possession.” 

His voice was softer now, almost as though he was sharing a secret, and you wondered what his face looked like at this very moment. Somehow, you had a very hard time imagining it. It had been so long.

“And yet, you still haven’t chosen to be with me.” This time, the harshness in your voice was real and there was nothing to conceal about it. “And you still wouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t be happy with me, you know that.” He sounded consoling, but there was nothing to console. The tears that you caught with your fingertips on your cheek by accident were tears of anger mostly. “I’m happy that you have found someone who can offer you everything you have ever wanted in a relationship, because you deserve all that. I can’t be this person.”

“I know.” Your heart hurt so much again, it was like you got catapulted back in time and experienced the heartbreak of his rejection all over again. “But sometimes, I cannot stop wondering to ask myself ‘what if’… Do you think in another lifetime or in another universe, we are actually happy together?”

“In another lifetime or universe, we would be happy together, I’m sure about that.”

“Yeah.”

In a lifetime or universe that didn’t include his traumatic past and you wanting to fix what couldn’t be fixed. In a lifetime or universe that didn’t include you asking for much and he not being able to even give the bare minimum. In a lifetime or universe where you were both healed and not only happy together, but also individually.

"But in every lifetime and universe, I will pick up when you call."

You took a deep breather, wiped the last tear from your cheek and said, “You can delete my number for good now, Jeno. It’s time to fully let go.”

And Jeno responded willingly, without hesitation, “Okay.”

-

In the arms of Jaehyun, you had always felt the safest. He was the one for you, you knew that for sure. Even if your mind wandered, your heart never did. 

You just wished your feelings were just as stable and didn’t waver as easily, that they wouldn’t doubt you or get confused so easily when your thoughts grew big and toxic. As long as they knew their base though, you assumed you were going to be fine in the end. 

You were only a human too, after all. 

When you returned to bed and cuddled up to Jaehyun, he directly slung his arms around you and pressed a kiss on your temple.

With a sleepy voice, he asked, “Where were you?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

He pulled you close to him, one arm serving as a pillow for you and the other touching your stomach.

“My friends all say you’re so good for me. You make me feel like I should feel. That you’re the one for me, because your love is true. Is it? Do you think so too?”

It tickled in the nape of your neck when he chuckled. “Every now and then, you still have these doubts?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry. Because no matter how many times you doubt it, I will prove it to you over and over again. In every lifetime and in every universe, I will prove it to you.”

You slid your hand into his one that was close to your stomach, intertwining your fingers. “Yeah, me too.”

Except for the fact that there was one lifetime, one universe in which there was someone else you would have chosen. But you kept it to yourself and settled contently with the thought that a ‘you’ in the other reality with Jeno already existed and was just as happy as the you lying in Jaehyun’s arms now.

But you didn’t delete his number.

In case that in this lifetime and universe, you had to call him.

[lixielovess]

"and i still dont care, i only care about you and how you feel. if it meant that I'd have to kill everyone in the world except for you and then myself just to prove that i love you, then I'll do so."

hyunjin x fem!chubby!reader

warnings: reader is insecure about her body, implied ED, swearing

genre: angst, fluff

hyunjin was a childhood friend of yours, you always hung out with him and you enjoyed being around him. but you were always considered the 'ugly' friend by your other friends, sometimes your family and you yourself agreed sometimes.. ofcourse he never did, he thought you were absolutely beautiful, tough he never said it.

when you were in junior high school, you could never be friends with anyone without someone shipping you two, but with you.. everyone always considered it as a joke. like you were a joke, people kept teasing hyunjin about liking you and he always denied it, and you believed him. he was never harsh about it he was genuinely nice, he was always polite with it but it always seemed to hurt you. you loved him, and deep down he knew he liked you aswell.

he was the handsome popular guy and you were just another one of his fangirls who just happened to be one of his friends. though you did have girl friends alot of girls seemed to hate you because you were friends with hyunjin, saying that you only hung out with him to distract yourself from how fugly you actually are. and honestly you thought the same, it was to the point you starved yourself and had to go to the hospital because you didn't eat the normal amount of food a healthy person should eat for about a month, but despite not eating almost anything at all you still looked like that.

and suddenly when you were in highschool in senior year when in the schools garden, he stood infront of you, bouquet in hand looking straight into your eyes "y/n y/l/n i-... i loved you.. i always have.. so please-" you cut him off. "is this some sort of joke..?" he froze up, confused, time seemed to stop as he just stared at you completely confused "what?"

"did one of your friends force you to do this? did you lose a bet? do you think its funny 'confessing' to the ugly chubby girl?" you we're used to it, guys confessing to you, going out with you because it was a dare or a jokey joke. but its happened to you over and over again for too many times to the point where you couldn't tell the difference between that and the real thing... and when someone actually had feelings, that someone being hyunjin, you turned him down because you didn't trust anyone that said they liked you, either way if it was true or not.

"Y/n-" "save it." angry tears welled up in your eyes as he just stared at you in disbelief "listen! please- im not joking! i genuinely do-" you grit your teeth, holding in your tears as you try not to break down sobbing "i thought you were my friend, hyunjin."

"i am! and i want us to be more than that-"

"Liar! you don't like me, i know you don't. you denied it since we were 10 and even until now you still do. feelings don't change overnight. i cant believe i thought you were my friend, never talk to me again you piece of shit" you ran off into somewhere, you dont know where you just walked. a few hours later you somehow arrived home, you waltzed into your room and just locked yourself in there.

days go by and you return to school completely ignoring him, everytime he came to talk to you, you just brushed him off like he was nothing.

your friends still hung out with him, and they brought you along when they hung out with him, but what else could you do? not hang out with your friends who've known you for years..? no. eventually you forgave him and tolerated him, and started hanging out with eachother more and more.

it wasn't until recently when you guys were alone, he took your hand and looked straight into your eyes when he confessed, again. "i.. i just wanted you to know that it wasnt a joke, i genuinely did love you back then and i didn't care about how you looked you were absolutely beautiful regardless. and i still dont care, i only care about you and how you feel. if it meant that I'd have to kill everyone in the world except for you and then myself just to prove that i love you, then I'll do so."

[aphverse-confessions]

I feel Jess's behaviour isn't black or white.

Both sides are correct.

Jess festhised gay men in her stories, queerbaited us, whitewashed her own characters from time to time(sometimes it's shaders, sometimes it's clearly her) and wrote racist plot lines and characters.

I do not agree with the claim she hasn't tried to better herself. Kc has gotten a backstory and a reason for her behaviour aswell as a real name "Nana ashida". And has stopped with the speech and honorifics. That's a clear sign of change.

Gay characters got more and more prominent in her more recent research up until the cocomau era. With characters like Ava's two gay dads. Which are an example of great representation.

The art that she uses, used to be way more whitewashed. But has changed to represent the skintones better recently. Although many shorts still look whitewashed. There's a clear effort of change. The whitewashing instances are also sometimes because of shaders (like Travis) and sometimes because of the genuine lightening of the skintones (like Zenix and Brian)

She also did normalise a messed up age gap. But then again, she was victim of this age gap herself and likely doesn't realise it being bad. That doesn't take away from the impact it had. Especially in the Minecraft roleplay community.

What I am trying to say, is that the tiktoks talking about how their childhood creators got ruined and mention Aphmau in the same sentence as groomers, pedophiles and abusers. Are too harsh in my opinion, aswell as the enormous hate on the YouTube awards things.

But I do believe Jess to have spread harmful messages, and I believe her not to be some innocent angel.

A lot of her more problematic writing choices can be blamed on all the anime she watches. However I don't see this as an excuse.

People need to stop thinking black and white. Not everyone is all good or all bad.

I don't support Jess. But I don't think her name should be mentioned next to James Charles either.

I don't believe the things Jess did to be irredeemable. Many things are just horribly ignorant(that doesn't take away from the impact), honestly. But I do believe she has an incredibly long way to go before I'd claim myself to be a 'Jess supporter'.

.

[hopelesslys-world]

50 SHADES OF FUCKED UP | CH.4

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, reader is kind of a bimbo, heavily detailed smut, basically porn, loss of virginity, harsh language, anger issues, stalking, obsession, jealousy, controlling behaviour, DOM-SUB themes, BDSM Expand considered to be portrayed with incorrect/poor etiquette, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse/assault, statutory rape.

EXTRAS: Vomiting, alcohol !

Tell me if I missed anything...( As you can see most of the warnings will appear in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Y/M/N: Your Middle Name

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*𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 concrete of the garage with its bleak fluorescent light, I speed towards Bella's car getting inside as if someone was chasing me.

What was I thinking? Unbidden and unwelcome incoming tears make my eyes water.

Why am I crying? I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. I hide my face in my hands and wipe a stray tear off my cheek.

That is so embarrassing. I embarrassed myself out there thinking that we were going to kiss. I'm so stupid, being sad of something I never had. How ridiculous. Something that never was – my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

I have never been on the receiving end of rejection. Okay… so I was always one of the last to be picked for basketball or volleyball – but I understood that – running and doing something else at the same time like bouncing or throwing a ball is not my thing. I am a serious liability in any sporting field.

Romantically, though, I’ve never put myself out there, ever. A lifetime of insecurity – I’m too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated, my long list of faults goes on. So I have always been the one to rebuff any would be admirers. There was that guy in my chemistry class who liked me, but no one has ever sparked my interest – no one except Christian damn Grey.

Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Paul Clayton and José Rodriguez, though I’m sure neither of them have been found like me inside their car in a dark parking lot.

I should go home, do my studying. Forget about him and stop all this self-pitying, crap!!!

I take a deep, steadying breath and start the engine. I will not think of him again. I can just chalk this incident up to experience and concentrate on my exams.

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Bella is sitting at the dining table at her laptop when I arrive. Her welcoming smile fades when she sees me.

“Y/N/N what’s wrong?”

Oh no… not the Isabella Clark Inquisition. I shake my head at her in a back-off now Bella way – but I might as well be dealing with a blind, deaf mute.

“You’ve been crying,” she has an exceptional gift for stating the damned obvious sometimes. “What did that bastard do to you?” she growls, and her face – jeez, she’s scary.

“Nothing Bella.” That’s actually the problem. The thought brings a wry smile to my face.

“Then why have you been crying? You never cry,” she says, her voice softening. She stands, her green eyes brimming with concern. She puts her arms around me and hugs me.

I need to say something just to get her to back off. “I was nearly knocked over by a cyclist.” It’s the best that I can do, but it distracts her momentarily from… him.

“Jeez Y/N/N – are you okay? Were you hurt?” She holds me at arm’s length and does a quick visual check-up on me.

“No. Christian saved me,” I whisper. “But I was quite shaken.”

“I’m not surprised. How was coffee? I know you hate coffee.”

“I had tea. It was fine, nothing to report really. I don’t know why he asked me.”

“He likes you Y/N/N.” She drops her arms.

“Not anymore. I won’t be seeing him again.” Yes, I manage to sound matter of fact.

“Oh?”

Shit. She’s intrigued. I head into the kitchen so that she can’t see my face.

“Yeah… he’s a little out of my league Bella,” I say as dryly as I can manage.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh Bella, it’s obvious.” I whirl round and face her as she stands in the kitchen doorway.

“Not to me,” she says. “Okay, he’s got more money than you, but then he has more money than most people in America!”

“Bella he’s– ” I shrug.

“Y/N! For heaven’s sake – how many times must I tell you? You’re a total babe,” she interrupts me. She’s off on this tirade again.

“Bella, please. I need to study.” I cut her short. She frowns.

“Do you want to see the article? It’s finished. José took some great pictures.”

Do I need a visual reminder of the beautiful Christian I-don’t-want-you Grey?

“Sure,” I magic a smile on to my face and stroll over to the laptop. And there he is, staring at me in black and white, staring at me and finding me lacking.

I pretend to read the article, all the time meeting his steady gray gaze, searching the photo for some clue as to why he’s not the man for me – his own words to me. And it’s suddenly, blindingly obvious. He’s too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. His words make sense. He’s not the man for me.

This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection easier to accept… almost. I can live with this. I understand.

“Very good Bella,” I manage. “I’m going to study.” I am not going to think about him again for now, I vow to myself, and opening my revision notes, I start to read.

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It’s only when I’m in bed, trying to sleep, that I allow my thoughts to drift through my strange morning. I keep coming back to the ‘I don’t do the girlfriend thing’ quote, and I’m angry that I didn’t pounce on this information sooner, when I was in his arms mentally begging him with every fiber of my being to kiss me. He’d said it there and then. He didn’t want me as a girlfriend. I turn on to my side.

Idly, I wonder if perhaps he’s celibate? I close my eyes and begin to drift. Maybe he’s saving himself.

Well not for you, my sleepy subconscious has a final swipe at me before unleashing itself on my dreams.

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I put my pen down. Finished. My final exam is over. I feel the Cheshire cat grin spread over my face.

It’s Friday, and we'll be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk! I’ve never been drunk before. I glance across the sports hall at Bella, and she’s still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the end. This is it, the end of my academic career.

I shall never have to sit in rows of anxious, isolated students again. Inside I’m doing graceful cartwheels around my head, knowing full well that’s the only place I can do graceful cartwheels.

Bella stops writing and puts her pen down. She glances across at me, and I catch her sly smile too.

We head back to our apartment together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Bella is more concerned about what she’s going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily fishing around in my purse for my keys.

“Y/N/N, there’s a package for you.” Bella is standing on the steps up to the front door holding a brown paper parcel. Odd. I haven’t ordered anything from Amazon recently. Bella gives me the parcel and takes my keys to open the front door.

It’s addressed to Miss Y/N Y/L/N. There’s no sender’s address or name. Perhaps it’s from my mom or Ray.

“It’s probably from my mom or dad.”

“Open it!” Bella is excited as she heads into the kitchen for our ‘Exams are finished celebration Champagne’.

I open the parcel, and inside I find a half leather box containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition and a plain white card. Written on one side, in black ink in neat cursive handwriting, is:

Why didn't you tell me there was danger? Why didn't you warn me?

Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these trisks...

I recognize the quote from Tess. I am stunned by the irony as I’ve just spent three hours writing about the novels of Thomas Hardy in my final examination. Perhaps there is no irony… perhaps it’s deliberate.

I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I open the front cover. Written in an old typeface on the front plate is:

‘London: Jack R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891.’

Holy fuck - they are first editions. They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who’s sent them. Bella is at my shoulder gazing at the books. She picks up the card.

“First Editions,” I whisper.

“No way...” Bella’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “Grey?”

I nod. “Can’t think of anyone else.”

“What does this card mean?”

“I have no idea. I think it’s a warning – honestly he keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It’s not like I’m beating his door down.” I frown.

“I know you don’t want to talk about him, Y/N/N, but he’s seriously into you. Warnings or no.”

I have not let myself dwell on Christian Grey for the past week. Okay…I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me and his wonderful fragrance from my brain. Why has he sent me this?

He told me that I wasn’t for him.

“I’ve found one Tess first edition for sale in New York at $14,000. But yours looks in much better condition. They must have cost more.” Bella is consulting her good friend Google.

“This quote – Tess says it to her mother after Alec D’Urberville has had his wicked way with her.”

“I know,” muses Bella. “What is he trying to say?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t accept these from him. I’ll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book.”

“The bit where Angel Clare says fuck off?” Bella asks with a completely straight face.

“Yes, that bit.” I giggle. I love Bella, she’s so loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on the dining table. She hands me a glass of champagne.

“To the end of exams and our new life in Seattle,” she grins.

“To the end of exams, our new life in Seattle, and excellent results.” We clink glasses and drink.

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The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. José joins us. He won’t graduate for another year, but he’s in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all.

As I down my fifth, I know this is not a good idea on top of the champagne.

“So what now Y/N/N?” José shouts at me over the noise.

“Bella and I are moving to Seattle. Her parents have bought a condo there for her.”

“But you’ll be back for my show, right?”

“Of course, José, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I smile, and he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close.

“It means a lot to me that you’ll be there Y/N/N,” he whispers in my ear. “Another margarita?”

“José Luis Rodriguez – are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think it’s working.” I giggle. “I think I’d better have a beer. I’ll go get us a pitcher.”

“More drinks, Y/N/N!” Bella bellows.

Bella has the constitution of an ox. She’s got her arm draped over Levi, one of our fellow English students and her usual photographer on her student newspaper. He’s given up taking photos of the drunkenness that surrounds him. He only has eyes for her. She’s in a stunning red dress that hugs her curves perfectly with black high heels and curls that reach her back elegantly.

Me, I’m in my usual skirt outfit but Bella made it more 'club like' and I love it, I feel very comfortable.

I move out of José’s hold and get up from our table. Whoa. Head spin. I have to grab the back of the chair. Tequila based cocktails are not a good idea.

I make my way to the bar and decide that I should visit the restroom while I am on my feet.

Good thinking, Y/N. I stagger off through the crowd. Of course, there’s a line, but at least it’s quiet and cool in the corridor. I reach for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting in line.

Hmm… Who did I last call? Was it José? Before that a number I don’t recognize. Oh yes. Grey, I think this is his number. I giggle. I have no idea what the time is, maybe I’ll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the crypticmessage.

If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the automatic re-dial. He answers on the second ring. “Y/N?” He’s surprised to hear from me. Well, frankly, I’m surprised to ring him.

Then my befuddled brain registers… how does he know it’s me? “Why did you send me the books?” I slur at him.

“Y/N, are you okay? You sound strange.” His voice is filled with concern.

“I’m not the strange one, you are,” I accuse. My courage fuelled by alcohol.

“Y/N, have you been drinking?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m...curious. Where are you?”

“In a bar.”

“Which bar?” He sounds exasperated.

“A bar in Portland.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I’ll find a way.” This conversation is not going how I expected.

“Which bar are you in?”

“Why did you send me the books, Christian?”

“Y/N, where are you, tell me now.” His tone is so, so dictatorial, his usual control freak.

He's a freak. The thought makes me laugh.“You’re so… domineering,” I giggle.

“Where the fuck are you?” He asked angrily.

Christian Grey is swearing at me. I giggle again. “I’m in Portland… s’a long way from Seattle s'a long way from your bizarre ass.”

“Where in Portland?”

“Goodnight, Christian.”

“Y/N!”

I hang up. Ha! Though he didn’t tell me about the books. I frown. Mission not accomplished. I am really quite drunk - my head swims uncomfortably as I shuffle with the line. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk. I have succeeded. This is what it’s like – probably not an experience to be repeated.

The line has moved, and it’s now my turn. I stare blankly at the poster on the back of the toilet door that extols the virtues of safe sex.

Fuck, did I just call Christian Grey? Shit. My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yelp in surprise. “Hi,” I bleat timidly in to the phone. I hadn’t reckoned on this.

“I’m coming to get you,” he says and hangs up. Only Christian Grey could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.

What the hell. I pull my skirt up. My heart is thumping. Coming to get me?

Oh no. I’m going to be sick… no… I’m fine. Hang on. He’s just messing with my head. I didn’t tell him where I was. He can’t find me here. Besides, it will take him hours to get here from Seattle, and we’ll be long gone by then. I wash my hands and check my face in the mirror.

I look flushed and slightly unfocused. Hmm… tequila.

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*𝘾𝙃𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘼𝙉'𝙎 𝙋𝙊𝙑*

┅┅

The bar is crowded, full of students determined to have a good time. There’s some indie crap thumping over the sound system and the dance floor is crowded with heaving bodies.

It makes me feel old.

She’s here somewhere.

Elliot has followed me in through the front door. “Do you see her?” he shouts over the noise.

Scanning the room, I spot Isabella Clark. She’s with a group of friends, all of them men, sitting in a booth. There’s no sign of Y/N, but the table is littered with shot glasses and tumblers of beer.

Well, let’s see if Miss Clark is as loyal to her friend as Y/N is to her. She looks at me in surprise when we arrive at her table.

“Isabella,” I say by way of greeting, and she interrupts me before I can ask her Y/N’s whereabouts.

“Christian, what a surprise to see you here,” she shouts above the noise. The three guys at the table regard Elliot and me with hostile wariness.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“And who’s this?” She smiles rather too brightly at Elliot, interrupting me again. What an exasperating woman.

“This is my brother Elliot. Elliot, Isabella Clark. Where’s Y/N?”

Her smile broadens at Elliot, and I’m surprised by his answering grin.

“I think she went outside for some fresh air, she responds, but she doesn’t look at me. She has eyes only for Mr. Love ’Em and Leave ’Em. Well, it’s her funeral.

“Outside? Where?” I shout.

“Oh. That way.” She points to double doors at the far end of the bar.

Pushing through the throng, I make my way to the door, leaving the three disgruntled men and Clark and Elliot engaged in a grin-off.

Through the double doors there is a line for the ladies’ washroom, and beyond that a door that’s open to the outside. It’s at the back of the bar. Ironically, it leads to the parking lot where Elliot and I have just been.

Walking outside, I find myself in a gathering space adjacent to the parking lot—a hangout flanked by raised flowerbeds, where a few people are smoking, drinking, chatting. Making out. I spot her.

Fucking hell. She’s with the photographer, I think, though it’s difficult to tell in the dim light. She’s in his arms, but she seems to be twisting away from him. He mutters something to her, which I don’t hear, and kisses her, along her jaw.

“José, no,” she says, and then it’s clear. She’s trying to push him off. She doesn’t want this.

For a moment I want to rip his head off. With my hands fisted at my side I march up to them. “I think the lady said no.” My voice carries, cold and sinister, in the relative quiet, while I struggle to contain my anger.

He releases Y/N and she squints at me with a dazed, drunken expression.

“Grey,” he says, his voice terse, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to smash the disappointment off his face.

Y/N heaves, then buckles over and vomits on the ground.

Oh, shit!

“Ugh—Dios mío, Y/N/N!” José leaps out of the way in disgust.

Fucking idiot.

Ignoring him, I grab her hair and hold it out of the way as she continues to throw up everything she’s had this evening. It’s with some annoyance that I note she doesn’t appear to have eaten. With my arm around her shoulders I lead her away from the curious onlookers toward one of the flowerbeds.

“If you’re going to throw up again, do it here. I’ll hold you.” It’s darker here. She can puke in peace. She vomits again and again, her hands on the brick. It’s pitiful. Once her stomach is empty, she continues to retch, long dry heaves.

Boy, she’s got it bad.

Finally her body relaxes and I think she’s finished. Releasing her, I give her my handkerchief, which by some miracle I have in the inside pocket of my jacket.

Thank you, Mrs. Jones.

Wiping her mouth, she turns and rests against the bricks, avoiding eye contact because she’s ashamed and embarrassed. And yet I’m so pleased to see her. Gone is my fury at the photographer. I’m delighted to be standing in the parking lot of a student bar in Portland with Miss Y/N Y/L/N.

She puts her head in her hands, cringes, then peeks up at me, still mortified. Turning to the door, she glares over my shoulder. I assume it’s at her “friend.”

“I’ll, um, see you inside,” José says, but I don’t turn to stare him down, and to my favour, she ignores him, too, returning her eyes to mine.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally, while her fingers twist the soft linen.

Okay, let’s have some fun.

“What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“The phone call, mainly. Being sick. The list goes on,” she mumbles.

“We’ve all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you.” Why is it such fun to tease this young woman? “It’s about knowing your limits, Y/N. I mean, I’m all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?”

Perhaps she has a problem with alcohol. The thought is worrying, and I consider whether I should call my mother for a referral to a detox clinic.

Y/N frowns for a moment, as if angry, that little v forming between her brows, and I suppress the urge to kiss it. But when she speaks she sounds contrite.

“No,” she says. “I’ve never been drunk before and right now I have no desire to ever be again.” She looks up at me, her eyes unfocused, and she sways a little. She might pass out, so without giving it a thought I scoop her up into my arms.

She’s surprisingly light. Too light. The thought irks me. No wonder she’s drunk.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“I need to tell Bella,” she says, as her head rests on my shoulder.

“My brother can tell her.”

“What?”

“My brother Elliot is talking to Miss Clark”

“Oh?”

“He was with me when you called.”

“In Seattle?”

“No, I’m staying at The Heathman.” And my wild-goose chase has paid off.

“How did you find me?”

“I tracked your cell phone, Y/N.” I head toward the car. I want to drive her home. “Do you have a jacket or a purse?”

“Er…yes, I came with both. Christian, please, I need to tell Bella. She’ll worry.”

I stop and bite my tongue. Clark wasn’t worried about her being out here with the overamorous photographer. Rodriguez. That’s his name. What kind of friend is she? The lights from the bar illuminate her anxious face.

As much as it pains me, I put her down and agree to take her inside. Holding hands, we walk back into the bar, stopping at Bella’s table. One of the young men is still sitting there, looking annoyed and abandoned.

“Where’s Bella?” Y/N shouts above the noise.

“Dancing,” the guy says, his dark eyes staring at the dance floor. She collects her leather black coat and purse and, reaching out, she unexpectedly clutches my arm.

I freeze.

Shit.

My heart rate catapults into overdrive as the darkness surfaces, stretching and tightening its claws around my throat.

“She’s on the dance floor,” she shouts, her words tickling my ear, distracting me from my fear. And suddenly the darkness disappears and the pounding in my heart ceases.

What?

I roll my eyes to hide my confusion and take her to the bar, order a large glass of water, and pass it to her.

“Drink.”

Eyeing me over the glass, she takes a tentative sip.

“All of it,” I command. I’m hoping this will be enough damage control to avoid one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

What might have happened to her if I hadn’t intervened? My mood sinks.

And I think of what just happened to me. Her touch. My reaction.

My mood plummets further.

Y/N sways a little as she’s drinking, so I steady her with a hand on her shoulder. I like the connection—me touching her.

She finishes her drink, and retrieving the glass, I place it on the bar. Okay. She wants to talk to her so-called friend. I survey the crowded dance floor, uneasy at the thought of all those bodies pressing in on me as we fight our way through.

Steeling myself, I grab her hand and lead her toward the dance floor. She hesitates, but if she wants to talk to her friend, there’s only one way; she’s going to have to dance with me. Once Elliot gets his groove on, there’s no stopping him; so much for his quiet night in.

With a tug, she’s in my arms.

This I can handle. When I know she’s going to touch me, it’s okay. I can deal, especially since I’m wearing my jacket. I weave us through the crowd to where Elliot and Bella are making a spectacle of themselves.

Still dancing, Elliot leans toward me in mid-strut when we’re beside him and sizes us up with a look of incredulity.

“I’m taking Y/N home. Tell Bella,” I shout in his ear.

He nods and pulls Clark into his arms.

Right. Let me take Miss Drunk Bookworm home, but for some reason she seems reluctant to go. She’s watching Clark with concern. When we’re off the dance floor she looks back at Bella, then at me, swaying and a little dazed.

“Fuck—” By some miracle I catch her as she passes out in the middle of the bar. I’m tempted to haul her over my shoulder, but we’d be too conspicuous, so I pick her up once more, cradling her against my chest, and take her outside to the car.

“Christ,” I mutter as I fish the key out of my jeans and hold her at the same time. Amazingly, I manage to get her into the front seat and strap her in.

“Y/N.” I give her a little shake, because she’s worryingly quiet. “Y/N!”

She mumbles something incoherent and I know she’s still conscious. I know I should take her home, but it’s a long drive to Vancouver, and I don’t know if she’ll be sick again. I don’t relish the idea of my Audi reeking of vomit. The smell emanating from her clothes is already noticeable.

I head to The Heathman, telling myself that I’m doing this for her sake.

Yeah, tell yourself that, Grey.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She sleeps in my arms as we travel up in the elevator from the garage. I need to get her out of her skirt and her shoes. The stale stench of vomit pervades the space. I’d really like to give her a bath, but that would be stepping beyond the bounds of propriety.

And this isn’t?

In my suite, I drop her purse on the sofa, then carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. She mumbles once more but doesn’t wake. Briskly I remove her shoes and put them in the plastic laundry bag provided by the hotel. Then I unzip her skirt and pull it off stuffing the piece of clothing in the laundry bag.

She falls back on the bed, splayed out like a starfish, all pale arms and legs, and for a moment I picture those legs wrapped around my waist as her wrists are bound to my Saint Andrew’s cross.

I sit her up and she opens her eyes. “Hello, Y/N,” I whisper, as I remove her jacket slowly and without her cooperation.

“Grey. Kiss,” she mutters.

“Yes, sweetheart.” I ease her down onto the bed. She closes her eyes again and rolls onto her side, but this time huddles into a ball, looking small and vulnerable. I pull the covers over her and plant a kiss in her hair.

Now that her filthy clothes have gone, a trace of her scent has reappeared. Apples, fall, fresh, delicious…Y/N. Her lips are parted, eyelashes fanning out over pale cheeks, and her skin looks flawless. One more touch is all I allow myself as I stroke her cheek with the back of my index finger.

“Sleep well,” I murmur, and then head into the living room to complete the laundry list. When it’s done, I place the offending bag outside my suite so the contents will be collected and laundered.

Before I check my e-mails I text Welch, asking him to see if José Rodriguez has any police records. I’m curious. I want to know if he preys on drunk young women. Then I address the issue of clothes for Miss Y/L/N: I send a quick e-mail to Taylor.

•••

From: Christian Grey

RE: Miss Anastasia Steele

Date: May 20, 2023 23:46

To: J B Taylor.

——

Can you please find the following items for Miss Steele and have them delivered to my usual room before 10:00.

Skirt: Black Size 4

Shirt: White. Pretty. Size 4

Boots: Black Size 7

Socks: Size 7

Lingerie: Underwear—Size Small. Bra—Estimate 36C

Thank you.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

•••

Once it’s disappeared from my outbox, I text Elliot.

Y/N is with me. If you’re still with Bella, tell her.

He texts by return.

Will do. Hope you get laid. You soooo need it. ;)

His response makes me snort.

I so do, Elliot. I so do.

I open my work e-mail and begin to read.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nearly two hours later, I come to bed. It’s just after 1:45. She’s fast asleep and hasn’t moved from where I left her. I strip, pull on my pajama pants and a T-shirt, and climb in beside her. She’s comatose; it’s unlikely she’s going to thrash around and touch me.

I hesitate for a moment as the darkness swells within me, but it doesn’t surface and I know it’s because I’m watching the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest and I’m breathing in sync with her.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. For seconds, minutes, hours, I don’t know, I watch her. And while she sleeps I survey every beautiful inch of her lovely face. Her dark lashes fluttering while she sleeps, her lips slightly parted so I glimpse her even white teeth.

She mutters something unintelligible and her tongue darts out and licks her lips. It’s arousing, very arousing. Finally I fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ series masterlist ]

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

[stinkyme]

Hello! This is Nikolai fic I had an idea of, I hope you like it and enjoy it! :) <3

There are parts to this story that discuss death, reader is NOT suicidal, but metaphorically speaking, envying how the dead even have more freedom with their emotions than a living human. Also, they misunderstand Nikolai's idea of freedom because of lack of informations (they know he needs to die for a plan, so misinterpretation happens). There is also a part in the beginning that mentions their ability coming to an end, they are unaware of Fyodor's desire to kill all ability users, they just know they could be free from their ability. (this is very briefly mentioned, one sentence)

CW/TW: SFW, gn!reader, reader works at DoA and has an ability "Dead Souls", they don't like Nikolai at first, reader is also a bit mean/sharp/bitter at first, the story follows part of the main plot, bickering, sometimes sassy Nikolai, cursing, reader has never been in love or had friends, reader doesn't allow themselves to feel a lot due to the ability, a lot of dialogue and inner monologue, misunderstandings, Nikolai & reader prank Sigma, kinda slow burn, "friends" to enemies to lovers…?, they get into an argument, reader slaps Nikolai & uses harsh words, they make up, fluff and romance (yikes😒), if I forgot anything please let me know! :)

Also, there is a small portion where Nikolai and reader discuss his card, I am a bit of a fanatic towards tarot & regular cards, so I wanted to add that part because I think it's really interesting for Nikolai's character + it creates a bit of intimacy :) (basically, 3 of spades represents a failure in achieving a certain desire; outcome different than firstly anticipated. Usually disappointment, however, I wanted to make a little twist to it, given the nature of the fic, so his plan fails for other cheesy reasons :3)

* This mostly stems from my need for fluffy Nikolai and because I am an awful, cheesy & romantic person. (I disgust myself and you should be disgusted too)

I digress...I thought that using one of the works from an irl author to sort of...make an opposite, but similar to bsd Nikolai when it comes to freedom could be interesting. Ability isn't fully connected to a book itself, it's more my own interpretation + using the name to make it! :D Also, names are from the book, descriptions of souls in this case is different since I wanted to make a little variety :)

** When Nikolai says "So is graveyard", he isn't threatening to kill the reader, but teasing their ability and dead vibe/behavior or rather lack of excitement :3

I apologize for any mistakes in advance! :)

this is long, I am sorry, spam how disgusting I am pls.....an AO3 link is here and in the fic, since it couldn't fit LOL

A cage of freedom || Nikolai Gogol x Reader

Dead Souls. That was your ability which you hated. It had some good parts, of course, but it mostly limited you in your own essence. Part of your ability allowed you to see other people's essence, their soul and one thing they crave the most. Different part was granting you power to see, speak to and help souls of the dead to pass on when they are ready. 

It all sounds like a lovely thing to experience, except it wasn't.

Indeed, the souls could help you as well, grant you needed information, take care of your blind spots, even fight for you.

However, everything has a price.

Yours was your own soul. Not in a way people usually imagine. 

Your ability didn't allow you to feel much. The dead who get stuck in the physical realm are already feeling a lot of heavy emotions - such as grief, pain, anger, sorrow and anxiety. Therefore, your own emotions had to be in constant check so you wouldn't be disturbing the souls attached to you and possibly ruin their remaining stability. With that being known, you realized that the best way is to not experience anything at all or rather, as little as possible. 

You didn't allow yourself to experience fear, anxiety or sadness. You learned to detach yourself and naturally, the stories of the poor souls made your endurance much bigger. Another big rule you had was not falling in love or loving people. They can leave at any moment and completely ruin the ground beneath you which would trap those souls you take care of in the worst parts of existence - eternal suffering and no memories of their lives. 

People can hurt you, they are unpredictable and dishonest, as much as you can see the part of their essence - that doesn't protect your own. It is always better not to risk it. That's what you've learned after so many years of living the way you do.

Which is why you were a perfect fit for Decay of Angels.

Someone who is rational, not emotion driven and has a flexible ability that actually grants more than one person. Fyodor was beyond intrigued, and you were beyond satisfied with their goal. You wanted your own ability to come to an end, but also, to stop the war. 

Aftermaths of wars still have souls lingering to this day, too damaged to be helped and you always feel a faint sting in your heart when you can't do anything. You can't even grieve them or cry over them, just forcefully accept endless suffering like it's nothing, but an inconvenience. 

You were deprived of basic human experience and the right - to feel. You were not a psychopath, nor a sociopath, no. You had to forcefully cage your own heart and limit anything that may come in or out of it. As much as you would like to say it does become easier, some days remind you that it's not. 

To say you crave a friendship, a love, a passion, a sadness, an intense happiness, a heartbreak, a feeling of being alive after being surrounded by nothing but death for as long as you remember was an understatement. 

Sometimes, the souls would apologize to you, they felt your desires too. They were beyond grateful for your work, but they also knew the suffering they were causing to you. 

Being stripped away from a life - in a living, functioning body in which the blood runs and heart beats intensely was nothing more than a punishment. Nothing less than a cruel joke. Just a simple slavery to your own unfortunate circumstance. You were a warm flesh covering your own cage, pretending to be alive while craving the freedom of the dead. A freedom of everyone else.

Even the worst scums on earth had a right to feel, but you? No.

You were deprived of a choice even before you were given one. 

When you met the rest of the Angels, you were not impressed by any, given the fact you already knew you wouldn't attach yourself. A quick glance at their essences told you everything you needed to know. 

Sigma, Bram, Fukuchi, Fyodor and finally Nikolai.

A home. 

A sleep. A family. It switches depending on whether he is awake or asleep.

An end to a war. 

Salvation and cleansing. 

A freedom.

You want to scoff. A freedom? From what? 

It often mildly annoys you how people's deepest desires are either shallow, overly egoistical or simply attainable. Some people desire to change the world in the name of God, old or dead friends which is always an excuse for them to do whatever they think is right. Nobody can out-perfect the dead and you know it very well. 

God is always used as a pedestal to explain human's extremities and allow them destruction in the name of higher good. Past can never not be sorrow and similarly to the dead - nothing can out-perfect it or change it. It all seems like a valid excuse simply because it can't be touched by humans. A past, the dead, a God. It's all singular and unchangeable. Therefore, it is undiscussable and immediately accepted as a valid reasoning for human's selfishness.

Some people desire a home or a family. Those are valid desires of any human and to those you can relate to. 

However, for most humans it holds no meaning. They are shallow in their desires. It's often a one-way street. They want to be loved and to be safe or secure, but they aren't ready to give the same treatment back. Or simply, they try to heal their own lack of certain emotions or feelings through physically conventional things. 

To make up for something they are not. 

But one thing they all are. Humans are greedy. Once they attain home or a family, they desire something else. More. More. More. It's always more. They always want more of life. They never learn to appreciate what they have and the freedom of choice they were given. The very beginning of it - a freedom to desire things. It could be your own mild bitterness speaking, but given your position, it was a fair mindset to have. You were not allowed to even desire too much or too hard.

Some people desire things they already have. Those you hated the most - as much as you were allowed to hate. 

They were either creepily shallow in a way such as - desiring more money when they already have everything they could possibly need. Desiring more partners; more love or passion when they already have a person who is completely devoted to them. Wanting more excitement, more happiness, more friends - everything they already had, but didn't appreciate, or could achieve without breaking a sweat.

A freedom?

There were people who desired freedom for good reasons. Abusive marriages, families or relationships. Being disabled or mentally ill. Being sick. Being overly pressured. Suffering things such as slavery, sex trafficking and similar. They desire freedom too and you know that. You don't speak of them, and you are aware of your own ungratefulness sometimes. 

But, human tragedies and pains are not to be compared because one will always seem smaller than the other, but emotions on each side will always remain. Desire on each side will always remain. Helplessness will always remain. 

They will connect through their despair which humans are either awfully good or bad at. 

You are the bad one. You can only connect to the dead, and even then, your input and output must be limited. Your heart shall not open more than an inch. If you could stitch it to be shut closed - you would. 

But you can't. Because certain empathy is needed for your ability to work. Not too much or too little of anything. To some it may seem like balance, but in reality it's torture. 

Either feel everything or nothing at all. Feel as much as you need to feel.

Because experiencing life in low, limited measurement is like a soul is sick. Experiencing life in rare tea spoons of what it means to be living. Get a drop of water when there is an endless, clean ocean in front of you. A few breaths of being alive in-between what seems like endless suffocation. 

It's awful and excruciating. It feels tightening. It feels like your soul is constipated to say the least. It feels torturous. 

Therefore, quite frankly, you can't help but experience a small jolting of nerves when you witness someone like him. Someone who seems so obnoxious, so loud, so out there, so shamelessly being themself. Someone who has all the freedom, who isn't bound by the dead, by the living, by the suffering, by his own ability. Hell, even listening about his ability makes you want to puke.

"My ability grants me to store things in my coat right here! I can also create portals and transfer my body parts or things. Pretty cool, isn't it?!" he is twirling around while he speaks, his voice enthusiastic.

"A true ability for a true magician!" he claps his hands before bowing down. As if he did something amazing.

You don't even say a word, a faint disgust on your face.

"Oh~, you don't seem impressed," his voice softens.

"How about now?!" he transports his hand from his coat to the other member named Sigma, squishing his cheek. Sigma yelps, giving him an irritated look.

"Could you stop that?!" he yells as he unsuccessfully tries to slap Nikolai's hand away as he reverts it back quickly, giggling. 

"Interesting." you say in an obviously disinterested tone. Nikolai looks at you, his expression confused for a moment.

"Ah, sarcasm! Got it!" he snaps his fingers before pointing at you.

"What about you, though? What's your ability?" he asks with a little smile on his face.

"I can speak to the dead." you deadpan and both men's expressions change to a slight shock.

"Really?" Nikolai asks, a bit intrigued.

"Really. I can communicate with them and help them cross once they are ready." you nod, your whole demeanor calm.

"That's spooky!" he says in a lower, but still expressive tone, covering his mouth with his hand that was further covered by the coat.

"Not at all. It's depressing, but rewarding at times." you reply in a casual tone. 

"Hm...still, quite spooky to me." he replies in a quieter tone.

"To each its own." you shrug. The silence fills the room, feeling a bit awkward, but as if it could affect you.

"So...are there any dead people with us now?" Sigma whispers.

"Quite a few actually. Around five at the moment." you smile as you rest your chin on your palm.

"Your whisper woke them, they seem to be quite angry with you. They will begin to hunt soon." you give him a sly gaze.

"Why?! I didn't do anything! How do I-"

"I am kidding. They don't care." you say in a slightly playful tone, calming an anxious man down. He would never be able to have your ability, it's entertaining to witness.

"So you do have a sense of humor after all! We will make a great pair." Nikolai giggles at your teasing. He sits next to you and you feel the disgust climb up your throat. 

Naturally, you tone it down immediately. For your own and the souls' sake.

"I don't think so." you raise your eyebrow at him, lips curling down a bit. Nikolai gives you a slightly confused expression.

"If I leave now, will they follow me?" Sigma whispers again and it makes you sigh out.

"No, they won't follow you. Unless you are the reason they are bound in the physical realm or I order them, they won't care about you." your voice is comforting. You understand people's anxiety around you and rarely blame them. It's better than those who cling onto you. Like this damn clown.

Sigma nods, letting a little sigh out from relief. He waves to you and leaves the room, you assume to the Casino he was in charge of.

"Do you want to prank him later?" Nikolai giggles happily, elbowing your arm. You want to rip his arm apart, but remain calm - as always.

"Not interested." you slowly get up, making a leave of your own. 

You stop for a moment, turning around to face him. Nikolai's expression seems innocent and dumb-founded. 

"One more thing though. I can also see the souls of people and their biggest desire. Quite frankly, yours disgusts me. So, if you would be so kind as to stay away from me unless it's a work thing." you give him a polite smile, regardless of your voice being sharp. You open the door and leave the room to go to your own before a mission.

......Continue on AO3

[harrietpotterandthedemigods]

Spoiler alert, this will contain spoilers of the Percy Jackson tv series!

So, I’ve now watched the first two episodes of Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and wow! I don’t even know where to begin!

First of all, was that a Rick cameo I saw in the principal’s office?! 😆😆😆❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️

Second, I love how Percy describes his feelings of being different to Sally. As someone who has ADHD myself, (and autism too) I am more than familiar with that feeling of other-ness. I was also diagnosed less than two months ago, mere weeks before my twenty first birth day. Which I also think is fairly well portrayed in Percy’s description, because even though he has a diagnosis already, the things he experience STILL can’t be explained by being neurodivergent, just like someone with undiagnosed neurodivergence can’t explain why they’re different beyond just quirkiness.

Harsh of Grover to just “rat him out” but it works much better than having to do another montage to the end of term.

While it’s not really accurate, I also love how Sally handles Smelly Gabe. Like a Queen! She’s a clear sighted mortal, Gabe is a looser who’s nowhere near as scary as everything else she must protect her son from.

THEY INCLUDED THE BLUE CANDY!!!!

The bullfighting with the Minotaur. A masterpiece. In this adaptation, Percy already has Anaklusmos, but he still has to kill the monster with his bare hands because he doesn’t yet know it returns to his pocket! I’ll admit I was a bit worried about that scene.

“You drool in your sleep”

There was some backlash over Annabeth’s casting, but Leah really is the perfect Annabeth. She might not be blond or look like book Annabeth in any other way, but unlike the Peter Johnson movies, they nailed the personality.

The same basically goes for Clarisse.

Dionysus’ portrayal is different from what I expected. I’m not saying that’s good or bad yet, the jury’s still out.

I don’t know if that dryad is supposed to be Grover’s mom, but unless coming episodes disproves it, I’m going with that. I don’t think Grover has ever mentioned his mother in the books, which is a shame, like come on! We even know Coach Hedge’s mother is a cloud nymph. I wanna know everything about Grover’s mom now.

As someone who does archery, that scene in the second episode solidifies a little headcanon of mine. That Percy uses the wrong equipment. You see, archery isn’t as much about which is your dominant hand as about your dominant eye. Most people are right eyed, but some people (myself included) are left eyed, and need a left bow. If I use the wrong bow, it becomes nearly impossible for me to aim. Also, archery is a sport that depends a lot on the equipment. It’s part skill, part how good the equipment is for you. There is no way Percy could be as bad as he is always described unless there’s he is also using the wrong equipment. (I really should include that in a fic sometime!)

Overall I’m really excited for the coming episodes! There is a lot more to point and squeal at, but I’m so excited I can’t sit still long enough to write it all out!

[riftwirecrystal]

NINJAGO STARSTRUCK AU - SPINJITZU AT 25:00 OPENING

This is the opening of the Ninjago x Project Sekai Nightcord swap.

Hey guys, I worked hard to make sure I kept most of the character's traits present, while coinciding with N25's main story. It would mean a lot if you stopped by to read a bit!!

Harumi Yoisaki

"This isn't right. Maybe if I…? Yes, that works."

My name is Harumi Yoisaki. I am a digital composer.

I would be a second year student of high school, but I do not go to school. I live by myself and complete online courses. My parents used to work in music.

I work in a group. We meet every night on our night chat, Spinjitzu. Ever since my parents were hospitalized I promised to keep doing what they did.

I don't live in a very roomy apartment. I barely pay the rent. Sometimes I will forget to eat.

But, I continue. Because I must compose.

I visit my parents sometimes. They don't wake up. They never will.

Because they are dead. And it's my fault.

So I continue. And the cycle will go on.I must compose.

Even though sometimes it's hard, I continue. Because this is my place. I will save someone.

I just need to keep composing. And soon…I will be able to save someone from the same fate as my parents.

They went out to drive…

"No. I will not think about it. I will keep going. I must save someone…

"My screen lit up.

"Hey Rue, I finished arranging that part for you. Do you want the demo?"

It was from L. He arranges my music and adds lyrics.

"Yes please," I wrote back. He sent the file, and I pressed play.

A harsh, but sweet melody flooded the room. The composition flowed smoothly with the arrangements L did.

"Thank you, L. It sounds good," I typed.

"I'm glad. I think I'm going to log off," he typed back.

So early? That's weird…"Get some sleep! You must be tired, but it sounds good though," typed Nyad.

"Yeah, I heard you had class tomorrow, so rest well," added PIX.

Nyad works with our other member, PIX. Nyad does the art while PIX does the editing.

We post songs and music videos on our shared account, S25. Usually I get slightly more of the cut we make due to my living situation, but I still make sure to give them the amount they deserve too.

We've never met each other face to face, but I find joy in working with the three of them.

Even with that, I'm not doing this for fun.

I must compose.

Lloyd Asahina

I logged off the computer.

I am Lloyd Asahina, a second year high school student.

I glanced at the sheet of music on my desk, then the workbook that’s shoved to the floor.

Guess I should do that then, huh?

I slowly and miserably picked up the book from the ground, then placed it on my desk.

But I couldn't open it.

I didn't want to open it.

But I had to, didn't I?

I had to.

I ended up finishing the notes and assignments I was supposed to take next week.

Hopefully that will be enough…

My mother called from the hallway. "Lloyd? Are you still awake?"

"Yeah. Just finishing some things for next week," I said.

She softly opened the door. "Good. I don't want you being all caught up with those people online again. You know what happened last time. You're so talented and gifted, and I want the best for you… okay?"

It's hard to fight with her. I gave up a long time ago. Now I only hide.

"Yes, mom," I replied.

My mother is Dr. Misako Asahina. She is one of the most famous and world renowned doctors in the world. She has no interest in music, and expects me to take a similar career to her.

But I don't know what I want to do. I don't know who I am.

What do I want to be…?

But I continue to do whatever she says. I don't know why. I just can't defy her, no matter how hard I want to.

I'm supposed to be the best for everyone around me. Why stop now…?

I haven't known myself for a long time now. It's nothing new to feel like this.I can't help it. I still hate it.

But if that's the case, why can't I leave it…?Deep down, I knew the truth.I could not escape.

I have been forever alone.

I hate it.

I hate myself.

I have lost who I am.

Nya Shinonome

For forever, I have wanted to become an artist.

I have many names.

Nya Shinonome, for one.

But I can also be Kai’s sister, a little girl, the loner, etc.

I am all of them.

Yet I am none of what I want to be.

I do not go to school during the day.

I have never been able to choose my own path.

When I try, I am constantly told I’m not good enough.

I should give up.

I should stop trying.

I am not talented.

I am not valued.

But I persevere.

My destiny should be what I make. Not what anyone else says. I will be good enough. I can be good enough.

But am I really?

Yes, I always tell myself.

As I tell myself this again, I get a text message from PIX in the chat.

“Hey Nyad, can I see the storyboard you were working on for the next song?”

I quickly sent her the progress I’d made so far. “Here.”

“Thanks! You’re so talented, I’d never be like you,” she responded.

That made me feel a bit better.

Sometimes it does get hard.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t do anything right.

Sometimes I feel completely and utterly useless.

Sometimes I just feel like I want to disappear.

It’s the worst feeling in the world.

But I need to prove everyone who doubted me wrong.It doesn’t matter who tells me I can’t do it.

My parents, my teachers, my brother, none of them.

I will pursue my dream.

Even if it means I’ll have to fight all the doubts clouding my head.

Pixal Akiyama

I sighed.

Everyone else had logged off already.

What do I do now..?

I looked at my bag and remembered the schoolwork due next week.

"I really don't want to do that right now…"

I tried to ignore it and started working on the new music video. My name is Pixal Akiyama. I am a first year high school student.

I use my friend Nyad's art in edits for Rue and L's songs. Lately my inspiration has been lacking. I'm not sure why.

School life isn't much better either. It's been a while since I've talked to Sora… I noticed an influx in people calling me names and avoiding me too. I'm always excluded and made fun of.

I don't know why.

I miss my dad…

My dad is Cyrus Akiyama, a clothing designer with a very different approach to styles. He moved away to work for his company a few months ago.

I haven't had many people to talk to recently.

I miss talking.

It's been so long…

I miss having people to confide in. To run to. To trust.

No one accepts me. And no one will.

I am alone. Forever and ever.

[memphisflash]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Pairing: Evelyn Harper (OC) x Elvis Presley

Word count: 2,1K

Chapter summary: Elvis knows he can't drop the truth on Evelyn like a bomb, and he lets her walk away. Not wanting to force her into anything but not wanting to be without her for longer either, he impulsively accepts Red's offer to bring in the help of a witch.

Chapter warnings: Elvis' pov! (not a warning but y'know), strong language, blood consumption.

Main m.list | Series m.list

➺ ELVIS' POV

Shit, shit, shit.

Me and my big damn mouth. This wasn’t supposed to happen – hell, Evelyn Harper should not be standing in front of me right now.

I knew this day would come eventually, though. She was the daughter of Christian Harper, once the nation’s best hunter, and I was… well, me. Christian didn’t like me and never had, so I wasn’t surprised he’d send one of his little minions after me, but I didn’t think he’d stoop that low to send his own daughter.

Especially considering our past together, but then again, Christian Harper wasn’t the saint he portrayed himself to be.

The fucker probably set me up with the murders too.

Sure, I killed people, but not to the extent one might think.

I was a predator, unfortunately for me it was imbedded into my DNA after I was turned into a vampire, but I wasn’t a young fledgling anymore. I learned from my mistakes in the past where I’d go out hunting unsuspecting humans just for the heck of it. Nowadays, I only killed when it was absolutely necessary – whether I, or my people, were in danger for example.

I didn’t murder the girls I’d take into my room in cold blood.

I didn’t even sleep with them most of the time.

I fed and healed them, and then compelled them to forget what they’ve seen and that they’ve been to my room in the first place. I had too many people depending on me, too many eyes on me at all times to be reckless. Leaving mutilated bodies behind in the alley of the International to let them rot by the trash cans? Not my style.

Either it was the job of another vampire in town that wanted to fuck up my reputation, or Christian Harper was behind it.

My gut told me it was the latter.

“H-How… How do you.. How do you know my name?”

I widened my eyes a little as I looked at the brunette in front of me, panic tingling my bones as I saw the look on her face. She was confused, and I could sense she was trying to hide the fact that she was growing nervous. I was the same, and I masked my feelings before she could pinpoint them.

Taking a step back to create space between us, I fought the urge to run a frustrated hand through my hair because they were still covered in Richard’s blood.

A death I’d have to grief and beat myself up for later.

“You should go,” I told her, opting to place my hands on my hips as I avoided eye contact.

I couldn’t just blurt out the truth to her. Not now.

I couldn’t tell her that she was being lied to by the people she loved and that her and I had a past together. It wasn’t something that one would just throw out there, as if it was no big deal.

“No,” Evelyn stood her ground as she pushed herself off the wall and stood straight, her eyes boring into me. “I’m not leaving before you tell me how you who I am.”

She’d always been stubborn. Something I liked about her but sometimes it got on my nerves because it would get her in trouble. Now was one of those cases.

Looking up at her with a serious expression, no more smug grins, I shook my head.

“You’re staying at the hotel I got plenty of connections in. Besides, it ain’t like the VHA is some secret operation vampires don’t know about. Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,”

The words came out more harsh than I intended to. But I needed to create distance between us, keep her at bay… at least, for now. It’s been three years since I’ve seen her and talked to her, and I needed to get my head straight. Despite not showing it, I’d been going through inner turmoil the second I saw her in the crowd tonight.

Once upon a time she looked at me with love and admiration in those beautiful chocolate eyes of hers, and now there was nothing but indifference, hatred for the creature I was.

They’d brainwashed her, the way I do to the girls that I feed from.

“I don’t buy that,”

Goddamnit, Evelyn.

“You know something and because of that, you think you’re already one step ahead,” she continued, taking a step closer to me. My jaw clenched as I looked down at her, forcing myself not to look at her lips. “I’d be careful making your next victim if I were you, Elvis, because I’m-“

My eyes lowered to the jewelry around her neck, silver pendant with a small ruby stone resting over her collarbone. “Ask your father where you got that necklace.”

She shut up at my interruption and frowned, her dainty fingers touching her necklace for a second. She slowly looked back up at me and it caused a shiver to run down my spine, but I managed not to show it. “M-My… father?” She whispered.

“If he truly cares about you, he will tell you the truth and it will set you free,” I told her pointedly, my voice dropping to a whisper too. I slowly brought my hand to her necklace, groaning softly at the feeling of the vervain laced jewelry underneath the pad of my index finger as I caressed it. I could hear her breath stammering slightly and as we looked at each other, my fingertip ghosting along her clavicle.

I wanted to grab her and kiss her, make love to her until the sun would rise again and drag us back to reality. But I couldn’t. We couldn’t.

“You need to go,” I told her once more as I pulled my hand back, veins crawling underneath my eyes as my vampiric face threatened to come through my human one. Not because I wanted to sink my teeth into her soft skin, but because it was hard to control myself this close to her, in all senses of the word. “Please leave, Eva,”

I cursed myself at the pet name that was only used by me for her, but a sprinkle of hope sparked at my heart as she looked at me with slightly widened eyes.

Could it be...?

But then she took a step back and turned, walking to the door and that spark of hope was killed as fast as it had grown.

She looked at me once more as she stood in the door opening and I mentally begged her to speak, to say something, but instead we just looked at each other for what both felt like an eternity and a split second. And then she was gone, taking what was left of my undead heart with her.

The Memphis Mafia was used to my raving and ranting whenever the opportunity called for it. They’ve been around me long enough to know what I was like.

I was the one who turned most of them into vampires.

Some willingly, some not.

I now realize how selfish I’d been in the past, but I couldn’t stand to face an eternity all alone. I needed companionship around me and I gave them everything they wanted and needed…

Protection, money, status, luxury things.

It made them stay and now that the person I needed most wasn't by my side anymore, I couldn't stand the thought of my guys not being in my life either.

But I knew they were unhappy with me killing Richard.

The vampire that had fallen into Evelyn’s trap had been with me since the early sixties. I liked the guy and regretted taking his heart, but the guys also knew who Evelyn was and what she meant to me. I would kill for her, no questions asked.

And they didn’t ask any questions. They simply got rid of the body, grieving their friend silently and didn’t mention a word to me.

All but one were afraid to speak to me about the situation.

“Breakfast, boss?”

I looked up as the door to my bedroom in the penthouse opened and Red appeared into view.

It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon, the usual time I’d come out of my cocoon and get ready for the night’s show. I hadn’t rested or even slept a wink because my mind had been racing with thoughts.

Consumed by one person.

Evelyn Harper.

“Yeah. Come in.” I told Red as I waved him over, sitting up straight against the headboard of my bed. The curtains of the canopy of my bed were drawn at the window’s side, engulfing me in my own dark shelter. I turned on the light on the bedside table and cleared my throat a little, thanking Red for the tray he put on my bed.

Fruits, bacon, coffee and blood.

The usual.

I reached for the crimson liquid that had been poured into a mug, taking a sip of it as my eyes followed Red’s figure around the room. He sat on a chair near the bed and leaned his arms on his knees, looking at me knowingly.

“How do you feel?”

An uncomfortable question I didn’t know if I was able to answer. I felt a lot of things and even after thinking things over for the entire night, I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.

Hurt, angry, frustrated, heartbroken.

“She don’t remember me, Red. I knew she wouldn’t, but goddamnit, seein’ her like that.. it.. it’s hell, man.”

Red nodded his head a little, rubbing his hands together. He’d been there when everything went down – he knew the reason why she didn’t remember anything and he knew how much it broke me.

Back then, and now all over again.

“You know how easily this can be reversed, right? We get her here alone and undo the compulsion.”

“And then what? We’d have to fight off hunters for the next ten, twenty years.. Take her whole life away from her. I can’t do that, Red.”

Red sighs deeply and looks down at his daylight ring, twirling it around his finger. “You’ve done it before..”

His words were low and maybe he didn’t mean for me to hear them, but I did.

I was aware he didn’t mean it in a malicious way and his intention wasn’t to hurt me, but the words made something inside of me snap.

I threw the mug of blood against the nearest wall, shoving the tray off my bed, not caring about the mess it made.

“I did not take her life away from her,” I gritted through my teeth, standing at the side of my bed as I pointed my finger at the other vampire. “We loved… we love each other.”

Evelyn might not remember me, but that wasn’t her fault. It was the fault of the people she called friends, of the people she called family. In my heart, I knew she still loved me.

And I wanted her to remember, more than anything in the world, but I’d never experienced someone being uncompelled.

I didn’t know what the aftermath would be.

Would it even work? Would she remember everything or just small snippets of the past? Would it hurt her?

Would she even want anything to do with me?

Hell, who knows. It could possibly even kill her and I'd rather step into the scorching Vegas sun without my ring rather than for that to happen.

At least now I had her nearby and she felt something, hatred of all things, but that was better than nothing.

By uncompelling her, I’d turn her whole life around.

Red got up and raised his hands as if he was surrendering, knowing not to anger me further. I groaned and sat down on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands. I felt Red patting my shoulder twice, releasing a low sigh through his nose.

“I know you did. She loved you once, Elvis, and she can do it again. There’s plenty of witches running around Vegas, just say the word…”

I stayed silent, listening to Red’s soft footsteps walking to the door. I wasn’t sure what the best way to handle all of this was yet, but I had to have at least a back up plan.

Raising my head, I spoke up before Red could leave the room.

“Red..”

“Yeah, boss?”

He looked back at me as I got back into the bed, grabbing onto open curtain of my bed. “Make the call.”

With that, I pulled the black velvet curtain closed, drowning myself in darkness before the show tonight.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

I'd like something with Alois, but I'm not sure what?! So I'm letting you choose (just make it fluffy, pls)!

aaaaaaa the world definitely needs more Alois fluff~

The night is usually quiet within the walls of the Trancy Estate. You and ALOIS sleep soundly in the master bedroom, and the servants take care not to disturb either of you unless it’s important.

It’s never a surprise that your lover is affectionate with you. He loves being able to touch, hug, kiss, just lie there and let his hands wander wherever they feel like wandering. Tonight, though, he goes a step further; as soon as you lie down next to him, his arms are around you. He nestles his face against your neck and breathes in your scent like it’s the last memory he’ll ever have.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” you hum in amusement. You run a gentle hand through his hair, stopping with your fingers curled at the base of his neck. “Are you thinking hard about something?”

He nods with his face still against you, though it feels like he’s relaxed a bit. No longer as desperate as he was when he first grabbed at you. “Yes. I’m thinking about how much I love you. And how happy I am that I found you before someone else did.”

You chuckle, and your other hand comes down to rest on his back. His muscles relax under your touch, his whole self cuddling in at the reminder that he’s safe with you. “I think even if someone else found me first, you’d have found a way to steal me. You’re good like that. And I love you, too.”

“Mmmh. You smell so good.” His breathing is even, delicate. The rest of the world is so quiet, anything too loud or harsh could break this moment into a million pieces. His fingers, balled into half-fists, stroke up and down your spine. “(Name)… this isn’t going to end, is it? It’s not some kind of dream?”

Your head tilts despite knowing he can’t see it. “What’s not? Our life?”

“Mhm. You see, sometimes… sometimes I’m afraid that’s all it is. A dream that my mind’s made up to make myself feel less lonely.”

“Hm. Well, I think I would know if I were a dream, darling. I feel very real.”

He chuckles and it’s a warm puff of air that makes you shiver a little. “Good.”

Another few minutes pass. It’s dark outside, you know, even with the curtains drawn. Alois is usually fast asleep by now, snoring thirty seconds after he drops down into your arms. You have to wonder what’s keeping him awake tonight.

Finally, he murmurs against your skin, “… Do you promise you’ll love me forever? No matter what?”

“Forever? That’s a long time,” you tease, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Do you mean until we die, or even after that?”

He lets out a small noise of thought before deciding. “No, after that. Do you promise that even when we’re dead, you’re still going to love me? When we’re just souls without bodies… will you find me and stay with me? Will you choose me even then?”

The way he speaks, you think he wants to believe the answer you’ll give will be a yes… but that he’s tensing himself up, braced for a no. You know there is something inside him, something that aches heavy in his chest, that thinks you’ll eventually get tired of him. That thinks at some point, you’ll stop seeing him as worthy of your love.

You comb his hair back, and kiss the top of his head. “I suppose so. If we’re just souls after that, it might take me a while to find you, but I’ll do it.”

“You will?” His grip suddenly tightens. “But… but what about… it’s ‘till death do us part’, isn’t it?”

You tug the covers up over the two of you. “It’s precious that you think death is going to stop me from loving you, Alois. You should really be more concerned with what happens if I die first. Because if I do, I’ll haunt you every day until you join me.”

He lets out something that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sob, then presses himself against you even more. “… Fine, then. If I die first, I’ll haunt you, too.”

“Oh, dear, it seems I’ll never be rid of you,” you chuckle. You offer another kiss, this time to his forehead as he peeks up just a little at you.

Ah, that smile he gives is wicked. “Just as planned.”

[goldmanguyperson]

before almost every single identity thing i find out does apply to me, i have a period of really liking it. a period of thinking “wow thats really cool” or “wow thats really interesting”.

when i was a kid i was almost jealous of autistic people for being autistic because i wanted to be able to do the things that were seen as autistic. later, like about 6 years later, it turned out that i am autistic. I only found out via diagnosis.

Before i realized i was trans i was really interested in gay dudes. then i was trans and gay. (though at first i was insanely stupid and was like “well i cant call myself gay cuz im pre surgery and hormones” thats bs)

before i realized i was nonhuman i thought therians were so cool. i thought the ability to self-express like that was amazing. The bravery of saying “yes. i am an animal” was aspirational to me. It was so liberating to realize that i was also like that.

before i realized i was plural i was almost jealous of plurality. I wanted to be able to describe myself as plural. i wanted to have headmates because i was so scared all by myself. It turned out they were already there and i just did not allow myself to realize because society is so singlet-centric. it turned out to be something i definitely needed.

people can be very harsh on people who are interested in identities (supposedly) not their own but often that is the first step in discovery. They are often interested because, whether they know it or not, they are it. In every case this happened to me i only did not realize at first because 1. i struggle to recognize my emotions and the things happening in my brain. just in general and 2. it turned out each time i realized i was of that identity, my experience was always a little different from what was expected of people with the identity.

I’m autistic. but i meltdown internally. my autism presents in a way considered more “feminine”. i was diagnosed with adhd first and attributed a lot of things to adhd and adhd alone, which could be true, but like, autism’s definitely there too. I masked because i had no idea that wasn’t really normal to have to do. i was able to keep myself “under control”. but it was unhealthy for me.

I’m a trans man. and i like a lot of “hypermasculine” things. People tend to ignore and sideline people like me because we are seen as scarier. less soft and less easy to understand in terms of standard societal roles of what a woman should be. Unfortunately people like me come off more threatening to many people.

I’m a shapeshifter. Sometimes I’m more solidly one thing—sometimes i am just an eagle. sometimes i am a machine. but shapeshifter is my most overarching nonhuman identity. I was confused by all the “finding your theriotype” kind of stuff. i did not consider i could be more than one thing because id never seen it. I know for a fact that i knew what i was already, so i found the idea of trying to research and find what i was kind of ridiculous, and just struggled to understand what what i knew of myself meant and what i could call it.

I’m a median system. my headmates are not there always, and sometimes we are one, sometimes they fuse, sometimes only some of us fuse. We don’t have amnesia. we don’t switch. so far, almost every time someone else tries to front it just fails. They have to speak through me more often than not. It makes it confusing to understand what is me and what is them, and sometimes that isn’t even a question that matters.

Everybody has their own journey and their own experiences. Don’t call people fake just for being different. It would be better if we made it clear that identity labels are just that: labels. they mean so much because they describe a reality. and reality is never really the same between two people.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Hi!! (Im so sorry if im annoying u guys, I just like this blog sm ok😭)

I just wanted to say that I have been relatively new to this fandom, since season 1 came out, and it was great! It felt like a space for asexual amd neurodivergent ppl, and I loved all the fanartists and theorists (still do) but after season 2, and I have a confession to make here, I too was on the "anti aziraphale" bus, properly boarded, seated and all. I know I didnt indicate that in the post I made, but I didnt self identify as one, I just "agreed" with what many of the crowd holding those setiments said. Why? My dear fellow, it was simply because of poor self esteem! I related alot to aziraphale, and so seeing those posts, where ppl talked abt traits( he and I share), like his love for his interests, his exaggerated movements, his anxieties, and seeing ppl dismiss them, or make fun of them, or call him "an emotional idiot" as that one lovely person said, well it felt like looking in a mirror, because those were the exact same things I said to myself! I told myself all those things, that I didnt deserve forgiveness from ppl I loved, when I made mistakes, I told myself that I should "tone down" my excitement for my interests, and the rest. I found myself mentally taking notes, and altering my behaviour, after reading those posts, bc hey, I hate myself for having those traits, and it looks like other ppl hate this one character for having those traits too, better "shape up" and "do better" yknow?

I stopped following thise blogs, but I still seeked the posts out. Why? Bc it felt "good". It felt like my negative self talk was being validated. It felt like I "finally" found posts that wouldnt "mince words" and be as mean, and rude as they possibly could be to him, because that was "what he, and anyone else like him deserved." (Im not saying that the ppl who made those posts said that, im saying that I made myself believe that I deserved that)

Maybe I shouldnt have internalized what the posts said. Maybe I shouldnt even care all that much abt a single character, I mean obviously the ppl who made those posts werent thinking about me were they? They werent targetting me, so why did I feel all that much. It didnt matter how much I rationalized it, at the end if the day I was making myself miserable, but it felt familiar, so I kept at it

I found this blog, and it felt.. so surreal. Like ppl were defending aziraphale? Ppl were giving him, grace? What? And then I read the analysis and responses that u guys gave, and realized that I also had biases, and I found myself giving more empathy to aziraphale, and then I found myself extending that same empathy to myself. I also started going to therapy also, and I realzied that no, I made mistakes, but I am human, forgivable, that my interests arent things to hide, but rather things that make me happy, and that I shouldnt be harsh to myself bc of that. It all progressed slowly, but I could feel myself becoming, happier. I didnt hide my excitement, I didnt tone down my "exaggerated" movements. I started treating aziraphale's character with love and lo and behold, I found myself loving myself too.

I have bad days, I still do. But they are lesser in number now. Whats the point of this long ass ask? Well, I want u to know that u guys are essentially teaching ppl to be more empathetic towards others and sometimes towards themselves, by being being empathetic towards aziraphale. U are telling people like me, indirectly ofc, to love who we are, and to give ourselves grace. And that while aziraphale (and ppl like him) maybe flawed, that shouldnt warrant hate, but rather understanding. U guys are wonderful, and I promise u, u guys are helping❤️

Im sorry to whoever that person was that left, im sorry that they were harassed as I am sure, those werent ur intentions. But what I am trying to say is that u are not making this fandom more toxic. U are helping people. U guys are a breath of relief in the fandom. Pls remember that.

(Sorry if this is too long to read, or too emotional, ive been in a bit of a mood I suppose, and being vulnerable like this is terrifying but agsjsgkahsbs what can one do, have a great day!🤗)

My dear, I'm so humbled to read this. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. As an autistic person, watching Aziraphale ever since 2019 has helped me unmask a lot, so I totally understand how the bad criticism towards him may have pushed you into masking yourself. It does hurt 🫂

I'm so happy that we've helped you on your journey and that we even helped you seek therapy (everyone should and every time a friend tells me I helped them get there I feel like I won in life). This is what we aim for here in this space, this is what makes it all worth it.

Thank you for the reassurance, it is very much needed sometimes. We want to fight toxicity, not contribute to it, and feedback like yours is very much needed to know we're on the right path. We hope to bring comfort for those who are feeling harmed by the situation.

And of course thank you SO MUCH for sharing your feelings with us, this is the juice we need to keep going 🩶

And finally: remember that you are and will always be good enough and that you deserve better. And no matter what, be yourself! Good luck and we're glad to have you on our train 🥰

[0zymandias-king-0f-kings]

Tw antis traumadumping, predators, sui, self harm mention

hey uh I keep seeing this post going around of some anti yelling about antis trauma dumping and saying it’s okay so uh I just thought I’d make a quick like psa about it. I’m gonna take this like fully seriously so I’m not gonna be like super snarky and stuff in this post I just think this is important.

If you go into people asks and say triggering shit or go and “explain your trauma” (traumadump) without consent, especially with the active intent to harm, you are an objectively bad person. This goes for both antis and Radqueer as I’m sure some Radqueers have done this or have thought of doing it too. If you do this, especially to a minor but also to adults, you are horrible human being and you should be ashamed. Like genuinely. It’s one thing if you make just a regular post about it, those can be blocked and ignored easily (tho you should tw them) much like the Radqueer posts that you guys are doing this over (tho I admit a lot of those should be tw’d), but doing it in asks is completely unavoidable the moment you open your asks it is stuck there until you can manage to click out. I understand that you are trying to make a point and show that these things that you feel are harmful are harmful but traumadumping or sending just generally triggering asks is not how you accomplish that.

sending asks like that is incredibly harmful and if you do it you are no better than the people you claim to be fighting against, the predators, the abusers, the racists whatever, you. Are. No. Better. End of story, doing a this does nothing but cause harm, it will not bring about the so called good you are hoping for. Keep in mind many Radqueers do have trauma and are very much triggered by this (even without trauma it can be triggering honestly) and many Radqueer are minors, some as young as 13. Let me say that again for those who may be skimming. AS YOUNG AS 13 YEARS OLD. Sending triggering content In a completely unavoidable way to someone especially young children is horrible, it does nothing but harm them, it can lead them to suicide or self harm or even create trauma that wasn’t there before. What it doesn’t do is help you convince people they are wrong. Antis, you are not bringing people to your side, you are not changing peoples minds, this is not how you make a point, this so not how you show someone they are wrong or bad. If you do this shit you are a bad person, you are no better then the people you claim to be fighting against. I know this is harsh but i think it’s important to hear.

A DEAD CHILD, A DEAD PERSON IN GENERAL, HELPS NO ONE.

all it does is hurt. You guys need to understand this before people’s blood are on your hands. There are Radqueers who also need to understand this i guarantee there are some of you who have done this type of stuff as retaliation or because you feel antis are horrible, if you do this you are as horrible as any anti who does it, you should be ashamed and I wholeheartedly want you out of this community.

I wholeheartedly disagree with what antis believe, I feel they misunderstand what being a Radqueer is and in that way spread hate however if preventing people from being harmed (physically or mentally) or even killed means giving antis advice on how to properly convince people so be it. If you want to convince people to come to your side of things you need to be calm and kind and genuinely explain why they are wrong, it will fail a lot of times but it will work sometimes, far more often than what you’ve been doing.

I implore other Radqueers who see this to reblog this post and share other ways to safely, consicely, and civil way. I know we don’t want them spreading but them spreading their ideology is far better than them hurting people. Antis, I know many Radqueers, myself included, have failed to be civil when engaging you in the past and I am sorry for that, both sides do need to work on how we handle this. In the end though we are all better than this harmful conduct, please all of you, Radqueer and anti, be better.

I am gonna crosstag this with antis and Radqueer because I feel it’s genuinely very important. I may honestly get termed for it and honestly if I do I think that’s a sign that reason has truly failed.

[lenteur]

random thoughts about castaway diva, episode ten

(read more because i always get carried away lol and this post might contain spoilers)

Lee Uk is an incredible man!!! I keep repeating myself but he is. The lengths he'll go to to protect his family... <3 I have a lot of respect for him both as a man and as a father. He even went as far as confessing to the police about stealing the family's identity. He's a good man. His face should be the definition of the word "good". I am very tired but know I'll be always rooting for that man.

I'm disgusted by their neighbors' actions: spreading false rumors, turning their backs on so called friends, pitying mr jung when they know nothing about him. I can't wrap my head around the fact they'd stoop that low when they've known them for that long. Victims of ab*se already have a hard time confessing and going to the police to file a complaint, add on top of that nosy and hypocritical neighbors and friends = you'll obtain victims that'll never break out of their silence because of the shame and guilt.

One thing you can count on mok ha for is standing up for the people she loves. She's the first one to confront the neighbors by deconstructing their arguments/theories. It's a beautiful thing to see the relation between mok ha and the kang family. They're one big family 💓

Going back to lee uk, that man is a treasure. He's ready to face the consequences of his actions because he was inspired by his son's words "a lie is a lie. The more you lie, the more weaknesses appear."

Mr Jung is one scary man ewww He talks about his wife and kids as his property and not as people he loves dearly. No wonder they all escaped from him. And in his twisted mind, all his actions are normal and natural. It's natural for a father to search for his wife and kids. It's also normal to hit and ab*se his kids because they didn't obey him. I hope he ends up in jail and away from the family for a long long long time.

Poor Mok ha has a lot to deal with in this episode. First the testimony of mr jung's ab*se towards the family, now ran joo asking her to cut ties with the only people she can call family. I know she's trying to make sure mok ha wouldn't give up just like she did before but that's still a little bit harsh. I'm sensitive I know that.

I can sense the heartbreak coming 💔 ran joo is right about the general public's opinion of mok ha if the latter doesn't cut ties with the family. It breaks my heart but I do understand where she comes from. She has the right to think about herself too. Yoon ran joo is putting a lot into mok ha's career so she has to be sure of whether she'll produce mok ha's album or not.

I know I just said ran joo was harsh with mok ha but she needed to hear that. Mok ha still has this very utopic idea of the world, thinking the rumors won't come back on her once she debuts. She's always been naive so I'm thankful for ran joo shaking her up and opening her eyes.

I admire mok ha because she has so much love to give. She's far from weak, she's proven time and time again how strong she is not only on the deserted island but also in her pursuit of her goals. She prefers to see the glass half full instead of half empty. But sometimes, I can't help but think to myself she needs someone bringing her down to earth from her dreams. Don't get the wrong idea, it's a great thing to have a positive outlook on the world, but sometimes when you do it a lot, it becomes too much.

Oh no... The parallels between young ki ho preparing for their escape from chunsam island and now bo geol putting up the final touches of mok ha's new appartment... my heart is too weak for that!!!

The fact that he bought her an appartment as soon as he found she was alive! Ki ho, the man that you are today 💗💗💗

Mok ha being torn between the two most important things in her life: her dream of becoming a singer & protecting her family. I feel so sorry for her.

It's cute how mok ha thinks she can fool anyone by pretending she's only interested by her reputation as an almost-debuting artist. You can see it. You can hear it. She's not sure of herself. It sounds like she's beating herself up she hears those words come out of her mouth.

There are several things I don't understand: why did ran joo give up her shares when she was so close to the goal? Reaching the goal would've helped both her and mok ha in the long run (ie more money, more creative control, more decision making, etc.). That still doesn't make any sense to me. I'm grateful we got to see ran joo in her element (producing music) but still, i think her getting majority (or half i don't remember) of the shares would have been a better tactic. 2) How did woo hak fall in love with mok ha? It might be because I support bo geol and mok ha more but the love triangle feels a little forced :/ i do wish woo hak to find love, but not with mok ha.

Mok ha learning from her mistakes (distancing herself from the family) and being ready to risk it all to defend ran joo. Just like she said: "If I keep cutting people out, who's going to be left?" She's always been loyal to those close to her so it doesn't surprise me why she said that. And she's right. She's been living alone for a long time, she doesn't need to live that kind of life a second time.

It's nice to see the family all come together to face mr jung. I hope they win this case and mr jung leaves them alone once and for all.

A promising preview for the next episode, I can't wait!

Overall, I'd give this a 8.85/10

[thousand-winters]

What are your favourite tlh characters and why?

Hi there! ✨

If you have seen my blog the past few weeks, you probably can guess some of them, but here we go:

Grace

I feel like Grace is one of the most complex characters we've ever gotten in TSC and it feels like such a breath of fresh air. Don't get me wrong, I am perfectly aware that these are YA novels, so I generally don't expect the books to be super amazing, I know what I'm signing up for, but that's precisely why I like her so much. Her personality is very unlike other female characters we've gotten in the series and I don't mean that in a "not like other girls" sense but in the sense that it caught my attention immediately, because CC doesn't have the best track of giving her girls gray morality without treating them like they suck for that.

I guess I was always curious about her? Even in CoG she gave the impression she was more than she seemed, and reading her backstory in CoI just made me hurt for her and root for her to have a happy ending after so much misery. There's something really satisfying about characters that have faced so much hardships finally getting a chance to simply be.

Alastair

Oh, boy. When I first read CoG and I read about Alastair, he felt to me so much like my older brother that I loved him immediately. It helped that I found his snark incredibly funny. However... as I kept reading TLH, he actually started reminding me of, well, myself. For many reasons, but let's not get too personal here, haha, let's just say I found his flaws, his struggles, and his stubbornness to go on in spite of that very relatable. How could I not love him deeply and dearly?

Aside from my biased reasons, I also find that his character is written very consistently and I loved his character arc (I stand by how simplistic some things felt in COT, but even so), how he had his highs and his lows, that was very nicely done. He also feels like a complex character because he's allowed to fuck up badly and it doesn't get swept under the rug, though I would say they go the other way with him and Grace by being too harsh, but I'll take my wins where I can.

Christopher

Oh, Kit, sweet Kit, you were the best of them all. Christopher is such a great character because, while mostly ignored the first two books, he's endearing practically without trying. CC's books have this thing where sometimes they try to convince you a character is likable for X reasons and it simply doesn't work for me that they tell me that I should love a character.

Christopher doesn't have that problem, they kinda present him to you as this klutzy nerd, but he's so much more than that. His logic helps him be the most compassionate and kind from the group, no matter what the narrative tries to tell you. He's perceptive, he's fair, he's fun. Who doesn't like Christopher even if he isn't their favorite? He knows what he is and what he wants and he follows through with it, he's such a pillar of the group that passes unnoticed because he's always in the background, but by the gods, he's so good.

Honorary mentions

Thomas and Ari.

I adored Thomas in CoT, though I must admit he doesn't spark my curiosity and excitement quite like the other three did, in the way that I would get immediately engaged the second I saw their names on the page. Nothing wrong with him, just my personal preferences, but he was truly funny and sweet and I quite liked that!

Ari... I do like her, in a way, I wanted to like her so bad, but she's trapped as the love interest in Anna's narrative, and given that I have no love for Anna's character or their pairing, it was hard for me to enjoy her appearances. She didn't have a chance to shine on her own, but when I think of all the ramifications of her story, I swoon a little. She could be so interesting.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: i hope you've had a great summer. i'm an infj and i've noticed i have a hard time getting along with many ti dominants in my life because of their harsh criticisms. i want to learn how to properly accept it and not feel triggered when it does happen, but i just don't know how to. honestly, sometimes i feel like their criticisms can be unwarranted and nitpicky. but i realize the problem just lies within myself, but i don't know how to work through it. there's a part of me that feels like i should just become more "logical" but i'm just not naturally like that. i appreciate your answer and i hope you have a wonderful day!

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

I have already written about how to handle criticism better, search the relevant tags. However, in your case, it seems relevant to ask: Do you believe you have a right to your feelings and emotions? Do you treat them as legitimate? It sounds like you can't accept your feelings of hurt, anger, or shame, and that is the real underlying reason why you can't handle criticism. If that's the case, there is a more pressing issue that needs to be addressed, though you will still need to confront the criticism issue later.

The more primary concern is lack of self-acceptance, which is often a sign of low self-worth. When you don't accept yourself, it's all too easy for others to convince you that there's something wrong with you, that you're a bad person, or that you don't deserve love. With low self-worth, criticism always feels like a personal attack, because it triggers deep insecurities and reinforces the ways you already attack yourself. When you can accept yourself, criticism has a different tone. Instead of taking it personally, you view it more as a new idea or possibility, and you know you have every right to take it or leave it based on your objective analysis of its validity and usefulness. But being objective about criticism isn't possible when you always have negative feelings related to low self-worth clouding your judgment.

Do you understand it's normal and reasonable to feel hurt when you hear hurtful words? People's criticisms are not always well-intentioned, are they? When someone hurts you because they can't get their own sh-t under control or because they don't know how to be respectful of boundaries, they are at fault for allowing their sh-t to spill onto you or behaving inappropriately toward you. When you encounter such people, you shouldn't allow yourself to be gaslit into believing the problem lies with you. In such situations, it's important to listen to your feelings because they are alerting you to the fact that the relationship is in some way toxic - this is one important role that healthy Fe should play in your life.

Even when criticism is fair, do you understand that unsolicited criticism can be a violation of your personal boundaries? If you've said/done something egregious to warrant criticism, then you should not be surprised to receive it. But when the criticism comes out of the blue or seems unrelated to you or the current matter at hand, then there's something more nefarious going on. It's like someone coming over to your house and moving all your stuff around because they think it looks better their way. It doesn't matter whether it looks better or not. The point is they don't have a right to mess with your stuff like that. People must respect each other's personal boundaries in order for a relationship to be healthy.

In my experience running this blog, I've been very lucky because my interactions with people have been mostly respectful and positive, even when addressing criticisms. However, there is the occasional person that randomly comes along to tell me how I should feel, how I should behave, how I should live my life, what I should or shouldn't write about, how wrong I am, how terrible I am, how I should run my blog by their standards, etc, often with little explanation or context. These people are a dime a dozen on any comment section around the internet. If it were the teenage me, I'd probably feel hurt, because of taking it as invalidation. But the wiser adult me understands that these people are overbearing, arrogant, disrespectful, projecting, or clueless about social norms and boundaries.

Do you believe you have a right to live your life as you see fit, without undue interference? Do you view your experience and your perspective as valid and worthy of respect? Do you believe you have a right to decide what role "logic" should play in your life, aside from how much other people value it or not? This world would be a very dreary place if everyone was the same. Don't allow others to change you into something you're not just because they are uncomfortable with you being different than them. However, in order to stand strong against people's harmful attempts to change you, YOU have to be the first one to believe that it's okay for you to be different than them. You have to believe in your worth when others don't.

When someone mistreats you, what should you do? Many possibilities, depending on the context. If you don't feel hurt by it, ignore and forget. If you are hurt and believe the relationship cannot be salvaged and improved, the best thing to do would be to end it or at least strictly limit contact for the sake of your well-being. If you believe it can be salvaged and improved, then you need to: speak up for yourself, inform people of what kind of behavior you consider unacceptable, and enforce limits and boundaries on the relationship until such time the person learns to treat you better.

There are lots of people in the world with bad manners and no social grace, and they will only respect you to the extent that you show them how much you respect yourself.