#there has not been a day within the past three months where I didn't feel like I was pleading with anonymous forces

[violexides]

speaking personally as a Muslim it is EXTREMELY common for people to equate Islam and Christianity as both inherently oppressive. and I am not an idiot, there ARE theocratic governments that base their structures on Sharia law and those are undeniably corrupt (the way that any theocratic authoritarian government would be regardless of religion, but I digress because clearly y’all are not ready for that kind of conversation), but it has become more and more apparent to me that the only people who actually seem to understand what Islam is and what it values - are Muslims. and none of you will fucking listen to us.

having religious trauma, being part of a religious minority, whatever it may be - it does not automatically give you the stand to talk shit about Islam like you know anything. did you know that Islam supports abortion? that Islam, at its origins, is not homophobic or transphobic? do you know how Islam got twisted through theocracies and politicians to become something it is not? or do you just know the end result - do you only recognize a Muslim person if you see hijab, or if you see a war torn country? 

I’m so fucking tired of how Muslims are treated in this goddamn country. i have had to argue and fight with friends (WHO ARE OF COLOR AND OF MINORITY RELIGIOUS BACKGROUNDS AND OR ARE ATHEIST BTW.) to get them to stop praising men who caused my country to get genocided over in front of me. To stop telling me that I was basically white as if my grandfather did not get sent to an Iraqi prison for being on the wrong side of the political spectrum only for my fucking father to come to this country and have nobody bother to learn his name. Muslims are being killed & my country is fucking DYING my country has BEEN DYING. 

I feel like I’m screaming into a fucking echo chamber and everyone just walks past. I am WATCHING people walk past. There’s no place in leftism for religious people and that’s becoming more and more evident with the way that some of these ex Christian atheists act - I don’t have religious trauma, I have trauma from daring to be fucking Muslim in a country where my entire homeland is siphoned into the ISIS box and left to fucking die. 

this is messily worded but you can reblog. but I am too tired to argue so if you have shit like. I don’t care. I don’t. Learn more about Islam educate yourself fucking listen. I want to go to Iraq some day. I really, really want to.

[joyful-enchantress]

Jól Never Be Alone | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: Hello! Enjoy this festive oneshot that I wrote as a gift for @smolvenger for this Secret Santa event facilitated by @fictive-sl0th. I took inspiration from a request submitted by @smolvenger and also from the Old Norse jól (pronounced yule), a midwinter festival which celebrated the passing of the longest days of winter, and fertility in the coming year. Happy Holidays!

Genre/Warnings: Arranged marriage, mild angst in the beginning (with a happy ending, I promise!), hurt/comfort, fluff, thirst, pining, smutty thoughts, language

Word Count: 3k

Three damn days.

That’s it. That’s all the time you had to pull yourself together.

To clean up the mess that you’d become these past weeks and be what the people of Asgard expected you to be. Needed you to be.

The shining star of the upcoming jól feast. You were to be the gem of the midwinter celebration as their newest princess.

That is, after all, what you were. You were married into the Asgardian royal family just over a month ago, joined in holy matrimony with Odin’s youngest son. The dark prince. Loki. A man — no, a god — that, for centuries now, had maidens everywhere falling over themselves just for the chance to spend a night warming his bed. How lucky you were to be his wife, right?

Though it wasn’t exactly a love match. Your marriage had been arranged by those that claimed more of a say in your lives than either of you did. Loki’s father and your own had devised a scheme — years in the making — in which you’d become Loki’s wife to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and your home realm, Vanaheim.

Yes, unfortunately, your love story felt less like a romance and more like a political drama.

It certainly didn't help that Loki has been cold and distant since the betrothal. He was always keeping to his own side of your shared living quarters, the physical walls between you serving as a constant reminder of the figurative one that loomed —towering and unsurmountable — between you. Short, clipped greetings are all that fell from his lips to welcome or acknowledge you when your paths did cross. Roommates with fancy titles... that's all you were. The dark, handsome prince, your husband, was never disrespectful — far from it, actually — but he never showed any true interest in you beyond what has been required during public appearances.

You couldn't blame him, not really. This couldn't possibly be what he had hoped for, when he would daydream about his own future. Trapped in a loveless marriage with you, likely feeling like little more than a pawn in his father's political chess games. No, it was no wonder why he kept his distance as much as the nature of your entanglement allowed.

There was a time, not so long ago, when you had allowed yourself to dream of a future where you sat beside Loki, as his wife. But not this way. Not like this.

Since childhood, you'd had a crush on the younger prince. Once you were old enough to accompany your father on his delegations to Asgard, where he'd speak on behalf of the Vanir at the council meetings, he was sure to bring you along. In hindsight, you realized, he only brought you with him so that you could become acquainted with Asgard before he secured your place there, within the royal court. But oh, how you looked forward to those trips! And a certain mischievous god was to blame...

Loki caught your eye the very first time you met him. How could he not? With those sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw that you swore were sharp enough to slice through your dignity. The silky curtains of raven curls that framed his stupidly handsome face, always looking absolutely perfect, no matter how unkempt and mussed they were. Then there were his eyes, glistening like two polished emeralds against the alabaster planes of his face. You had frequently wondered what it might be like to lock eyes with him during the throes of a passionate night of lovemaking... meeting his gaze as you're writhing in the sheets underneath his lean, sculpted body, appreciating the length of him — of his neck, his limbs, his cock as he buries himself inside you.

Perhaps it was foolish, but you spent those years pining for him from afar, dreaming of what could possibly be someday. Sure, you spent time with him during your visits, enjoying strolls together through the gardens or his personal library, sharing details of your lives and bonding over your joint love of books. He definitely wasn't a stranger to you. In fact, you’d say you knew him well. But you never made your romantic feelings for him known; you never hinted at the desire that scorched through your veins like an untamed fire every time he was near.

You'd tell him someday, you'd tell yourself. You would tell Loki your feelings and with any luck he'd be yours... and it was that thought, that hope, that fueled your daydreams and pushed you through until your next visit to Asgard.

But before you ever got the chance to share the true nature of your feelings with Loki, you were both called into the throne room where your fathers informed you of the arrangements that had been made. You were to be married. In three fortnights.

And your dreams of a fairytale romance with the handsome prince were thwarted in an instant. You wanted him, but not like this. You wanted something real... you wanted Loki to want you.

Now you were homesick and, during a time when you should be feeling surrounded by love and holiday cheer, you had never felt more alone.

Jól was in three days. And the midwinter festival was supposed to be magnificent — a giant feast honoring the gods Odin and Freyr and celebrating a hope for peace, sunshine, and fertility in the coming year. Your place of honor at the celebrations was especially anticipated, not only because you were Asgard's newest princess, but because you were from Vanaheim — you were Vanir, same as Freyr. And, you were one of his descendants; his granddaughter, in fact. Yes — Loki was Odin’s son and you were Freyr’s granddaughter. Your union was a jóltide dream. The people of Asgard were abuzz with excitement, chattering about how special this year’s festivities would be… thanks to you.

You and Loki had been seen in public before, of course. You had endured your wedding and the celebrations that followed and managed fairly well. But that was a formal affair; beyond a few pecks on the lips throughout the day's festivities, you could go through the motions with little more than the occasional formal dance required, as far as physical contact.

The expectations at the jól festival were entirely different. It was to be a wild and sensual affair, with you and Loki performing a dance as the centerpiece of the fertility celebrations. This dance... the sensuality was not something that could easily be fabricated. You couldn't just go through the motions. The two of you would be chest to chest, eyes locked in a passionate stare, hands roaming and exploring each other's bodies. Your performance was meant to inspire not only yourselves, but all in attendance to go forth from the feast and be fruitful.

The thought twisted your stomach in knots and made your heart ache. How were you supposed to make it convincing? And if you did give in to the burning desire you had for Loki to put on the show that the people of Asgard were expecting, how were you supposed to protect your heart? Knowing that it wasn't the same for Loki; it wasn't real for him, too...

You had been training for this dance with an instructor for two weeks now, learning the basic steps. Having grown up in the royal court here, Loki was already familiar with the dance, so he didn't require the same training. But now it was time for rehearsals to begin. With only three days until the festival, you had to practice the dance with your actual performance partner... with Loki. You had to get a feel for each other during the dance; see where it felt natural to add in those caresses of your nose on his cheek, his fans of hot breath on your neck, the wandering touches on each other's bodies that linger just a whisper too long...

And your first rehearsal was in two hours.

You needed to get some air.

As you step outside, the frigid air engulfs you and steals your breath away. It’s a welcome feeling — a cleansing feeling. And it’s exactly what you need to clear your head and collect yourself before this dreaded rehearsal. You make a beeline for the palace gardens without much of a thought, your usual walking route essentially muscle memory at this point.

Your footsteps were nearly silent on the fresh-fallen snow that blanketed the path beneath your feet as you strolled throughout the garden, admiring the pops of color provided by the hardy winter flowers and berries that were currently growing there. As you approached the crocuses, you stopped to appreciate their bright purple blooms and the way the snow clung to the delicate petals.

Despite the harshness of the current environment, the flowers were thriving, refusing to let the cold and the ice dampen their beauty and light. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you resolved to do the same. You wouldn’t let your situation dampen your own light any longer.

“Darling…?” A familiar voice sounded from just behind you, seemingly out of nowhere. The snow must have muffled the sound of Loki’s approach.

What was he doing here?

“Oh, hello, Loki! You startled me; I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”

You quickly made to wipe the tear from your cheek as you turned to face him, but you weren’t quite fast enough; nothing got past Loki’s sharp gaze.

“So sorry to alarm you, I just came to the garden for some calm and quiet. The bustling in the palace as everyone prepares for the festival can get overwhelming.” He paused for just a moment, his brow creasing ever so slightly as if considering whether to continue before asking, “Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”

Yes. So many things, you have no idea.

“I’m alright, Loki. I… I think the frigid air is just making my eyes water.” You managed a weak smile as you lied to your husband.

His eyes softened at your words; they beheld more warmth than you’d seen from him since before your forced betrothal.

“You know, Y/N… I know this hasn’t been easy. On either of us. But it doesn’t have to be this way between us forever. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me just because you don’t… just because we’re not…”

He struggled to find the right words to finish the sentence, but the implication was a shard of ice to your heart.

“What I’m trying to say is that you can talk to me. Ours may not be a marriage of love, but it still is a partnership. I can tell that something is wrong, that something has been wrong since our fathers broke the news of our arrangement to us. It was like, at that very moment, the light inside you was snuffed out. The woman that walked out of the throne room that day was not the same woman that entered. You’ve been a shell of yourself ever since you learned that you’d been sentenced to spend your life with me. And I’ve tried to give you space… to give you time. I didn’t want to pressure you, or suffocate you, so I’ve kept my distance. Waiting for you to be ready to speak to me again; perhaps even to spend time together again, enjoying our shared interests. But it has been more than 10 weeks now and I don’t think I can wait any longer, darling. Talk to me, please. I… I miss what we were before that day in the throne room.”

You blinked at him, flabbergasted. At a loss for words.

Set aside the sheer wonder of the sight before you: the tall frame, hung with lean muscles that strained against the fabric of the emerald tunic he was wearing. A note of gratitude crossed your mind that his Jotun ancestry allowed him to forgo any bulky outerwear to protect him from the elements, so you could enjoy this view, unobstructed. Even the way the snow clung to his dark, luscious locks and reflected the garden lights like a glittering crown had him looking every bit the winter king.

This man — this god — missed you. He mistook your heartbreak for… disgust.

As if you could ever find any part of him disgusting.

“Loki, I…” Your eyes darted frantically, looking everywhere but at him. Searching the winter blooms, the snow-covered tree branches, the festive garden decorations for a sign… for a whisper of encouragement. A murmur of reassurance. Was this it? Was this your moment?

When you finally met his gaze again, you saw nothing there but patience. Kindness. But also… longing?

“I love you.” You blurted it out, pushing the words from your lips before you could change your mind.

Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears; you actually said it. Nervousness enveloped your body like fresh steam, causing you to sweat despite the cold temperature.

“You…what?”

To say he was taken aback would be an understatement. It was clearly the last thing he expected you to say.

“I love you, Loki. I have for a while now.”

“Then why —?”

“Because I was heartbroken. Shattered. You’re right, Loki, the light inside me was snuffed out that day. Extinguished in an instant. But not because I was appalled or disgusted at the thought of spending forever with you. On the contrary, I had been dreaming of that very notion for years…”

You saw his eyes widen and his breath hitch before you continued.

“The light went out because I lost the hope that carried me forward; I never got to tell you how I truly felt about you — how much I cared about you…how much I wanted you.”

His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly at hearing you confess your desire for him.

You swallowed your own budding lust and pushed forward. “And so the delicate and, perhaps, foolish hope that we might have something real someday crumbled. Then, when I saw how much you withdrew from me, I… I was sure you had no interest in me. And that broke my heart even further, Loki, to know that you didn’t feel the same way about me and yet, we were trapped together in this marriage. I’ve never felt more alone than I have these past 10 weeks.”

“Darling…” he sighed as he closed the distance between you, reaching out his fingertips to softly caress the side of your face before brushing them under your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

The small gesture stole your breath away. It was the first physical contact you had with Loki since the wedding, and certainly more intimate than any touches you had ever shared. This wasn’t a public appearance; there was no audience. There was only him. And you. And the hammering of your heart.

“It appears that we have both been foolish.” A smile slowly crept across his lips as he muttered, “a pair of hopeless, lovesick fools.”

By now the smile had wholly taken root and a full grin had bloomed on his face, casting a light there that you hadn’t seen in months.

Oh, how you missed that smile.

“Loki…” you gasped. “Are — are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love you too, wife.”

You couldn’t think straight. You could barely breathe. You had to be dreaming.

Loki could tell that words were beyond you, so he just continued.

“I’ve adored you for years, Y/N. Admired you in secret like an adolescent with an unattainable crush. Because that’s what you were to me: unattainable.”

“Loki, you’re a prince, a literal god… you’ve had a horde of maidens throwing themselves at you for as long as I’ve known you. If one of us was unattainable, it was you.”

“They were only ever interested in my body, in my array of talents between the sheets.”

A warm flood of arousal washed over you, hearing him talk so casually about his own sexual prowess.

“But you, darling… you saw me. You showed interest in my mind, my ideas, my company. You asked me thoughtful questions and you actually listened when I would answer them. I was so convinced that I didn’t deserve someone like that. Someone like you. And so I kept my feelings hidden.”

“Well…” you began with a shy smirk, “I am interested in your body and your carnal talents too, you know.”

“And I don’t know if there’s anything that could delight me more than learning that about you tonight,” he said with a mischievous smile and lust-darkened eyes that lingered on your lips before darting back to your own hooded gaze.

“Kiss me, Loki, please…” you breathed.

Without hesitation, he leaned down toward you, brushing his lips against your own. Featherlight at first, but soon growing more assured and confident, claiming your lips as his. And you were more than willing to let him stake his claim.

When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you reverently.

“I love you, my darling wife. And as long as my heart is beating, I promise you’ll never be alone; you’ll never feel alone again. Perhaps things in our relationship have occurred… somewhat out of the preferred order, but by some generous twist of the fates, we’ve been thrust into each other’s arms and allowed to spend the rest of our lives with our one true love.”

Your heart swelled as you stared up at him. You felt that light within you reignite, shining brighter than it ever had.

“I love you too, husband. With my whole heart.”

He bent down and claimed your mouth once again, his tongue sliding against your lips, which you happily parted to allow him entry. All of the love and desire that you’d both been harboring all these years was finally unleashed and it was conveyed in the intensity of your kiss, and in the way his hands now began to explore your body. At least, as best as they could, over the coat you were wearing.

Suddenly, you found yourself looking forward to rehearsal.

And to the jól festival.

And to the rest of your life with Loki.

Below is the request I received from @smolvenger - I hope I did it justice, my lovely! Happiest Holidays! 🎄

Secret Santa 2023 Taglist 🏷️ @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[ssahotchnerr]

This scene but Hotch is dating reader 🥺 it's pretty new, but everyone can already see the change in him, and everyone just wants to know the amazing woman that has given them some weekends off 🤭

subtleties

hehe i had to write a lil thing for this, kinda a different take but still very similar! cw; none! just how the team notices aaron is in love <33

there had been a shift.

one day, it was just there. the bullpen seemed a bit brighter, the atmosphere was lacking it's usual apprehensiveness, even the provided coffee seemed more flavorful- not as bland and definitely not as tart.

and no one could figure out why.

dave was the first. and since, well, dave was dave, it didn't take long for him to question the matter at hand. all he had to do was forwardly ask, and the expression he received in return told him everything he needed to know. he also gained the immunity otherwise known as bragging rights- in case anyone asked, he knew all along.

the next telltale, as pointed out by penelope and caused all heads to turn- a newfound, frequent smile. the usual, timid frown was still persistent, it hadn't become a stranger and probably never would, but the ability to pull a smile wasn't as challenging. it made it's presence multiple times a day, comparable to the past where a smile typically appeared a few times within a month.

in accompaniment, a softened gaze. the harsh lines drawn between his eyebrows had seemingly faded. he looked younger. happier.

one could only imagine how surprised the team was receiving the instructions they could leave early if they so desired one friday night, including the "action reports can wait until monday" a double-take was necessary; did they hear correctly? monday? a whole three days away? accordingly, it became the new normal. as long as the group of them weren't called away at the hands of serial killers, weekends lived up to their name and purpose.

dutifully, even more questions arose. rumors were traded. and everyone had a feeling- only one thing could be the origin.

with a schedule dictated by serial killers, abrupt departures were never a surprise, but heavily inconvenient when preoccupied. no matter the hour, one had to drop everything and go.

once all were settled and en route, it consumed the air. an aroma that was sweet and playful- a touch of berries, jasmine, sandalwood. the close quarters of the jet was never shy in terms of enhancing sights, sounds and smells, so it didn't take long for it to be noticeable.

"what is that?" derek said suddenly with a scrunch of his nose.

spencer didn't skip a beat, not even bothering to look up from the novel in his grasp. "what is what?"

"someone doesn't smell like themselves."

"you smell your colleagues?" emily snorted out a laugh.

"no." derek balled up a scrap of paper within reach, chucking it at her. "call me a profiler, but haven't you gotten used to, i don't know... we all have our signature scents, you know? whatever that is, it's new. and strong."

dave presented a knowing smirk of a smile, side eyeing the culprit, who was also doing his hardest to refrain from smiling. but again, in the constricted space of the jet, it was visible to everyone. in addition, it promptly confirmed the rumor that had been circling the past few weeks.

"hotch?" derek pushed, raising his eyebrows in question but with a knowing expression on his face.

"maybe you should save your keen observation skills for when we land, morgan." aaron shrugged as he studied the file in his lap, the smallest of grins pulling at the corner of his mouth. "it could do you some good."

[suzukiblu]

Parasite WIP is so good and I desperately want more of it! I voted for it in the poll and I’m so sad it didn’t win

Friend, I appreciate you asking after it because it really is one of my fucked-up faves that I really need to work on more, so uh . . . have all 4500 words of the prose so far all together, hahaha. Yes, yes I DID reformat this whole thing into Tumblr-friendliness all for you. THAT IS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOUR APPRECIATION, FRIEND. ( so definitely we are gonna need that read-more down there, lol. )

Clark wakes up. 

Clark didn't even know he wasn't awake. 

"Superman," Bruce says with absolute neutrality. He's wearing the cowl. Standing in rubble. Clark is . . . not standing in rubble. 

Laying in rubble. That's what Clark is doing. 

Bruce is looking down at him very, very carefully, and seems . . . reserved. 

Reserved for Bruce, even. 

"What happened?" Clark asks, trying not to concentrate on the little seed of dread that the sight of that reservation invokes in him. He can hear the heartbeats of other League members, here and there in the wreckage of the street around them. Hear civilians and city noise. Hear Lois and Jon, distantly, and Ma and Pa, even more distant. And . . . Kara–both of her–and . . . 

"We'll go with 'electrocution', but I think we can safely say just about anyone else would've been virtually incinerated," Bruce informs him, distracting Clark from his mental rundown of people he's currently worried about. "Or just exploded."

"Ah," Clark says with a grimace. Well, that explains why his head hurts so damn bad, he guesses.

At least it was him, then, and not any "anyone else"s. 

He pushes himself up. Looks around. He . . . isn't sure where they are, exactly, except that it's probably somewhere on Earth and within the continental United States, judging by the architecture and signs he's seeing and the accents and languages he's hearing. 

He has absolutely no idea how they got here, though. The last thing he remembers is . . . 

. . . he's not actually sure what the last thing he remembers is. 

Not a great sign, that.  

Bruce is watching him. Like he's . . . expecting something, almost. Clark would ask, but there's an odd feeling distracting him. Something's . . . off, somehow. 

Missing. 

Bruce's utility belt is a new design, he notes absently. J'onn is down the street a bit and his costume looks a little different too. And Diana . . . 

Diana is over across the way, and her hair is a couple inches longer than he remembers it being. 

Clark would assume he was mistaken, except for the eidetic memory and all. 

"Hm," Clark says. 

"Hm?" Bruce says. He still sounds faultlessly neutral. 

"Trying to figure out if I'm in the right reality. Things look a little off," Clark replies, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in concentration. No unexpected sounds or scents. No particular feeling of disorientation that can't be accounted for by being apparently electrocuted. No additional pains past the dull pressure in his head or any immediately obvious peculiarities beyond the minor little scattered differences here and there in his teammates. 

But something is–

"I can't hear Kon," Clark realizes abruptly. He doesn't usually especially keep an ear out for the kid, at least not deliberately, but . . . 

Bruce . . . pauses. 

"You can't," he says, very carefully. It doesn't sound like a question. 

It sounds like something, though. 

"I can't," Clark confirms anyway, glancing around again. He still doesn't know where this is. "Where are we, exactly?" 

"What's the date, Kal?" Bruce asks, and Clark's heart sinks. 

He answers the question. 

Bruce's mouth thins. 

Hell, Clark thinks. 

"We're currently in Keystone City," Bruce says, very carefully expressionless. "We've been here for three days. The date you just provided me was a full fourteen months ago. And Kon-El has been MIA for roughly thirteen and a half of those months." 

Hell, Clark thinks, and doesn't let himself process anything past that. 

"We need to get a scan of your brain," Bruce says. "For starters." 

"For starters," Clark agrees tightly. 

Bruce tells Diana they're leaving, then abandons the rubble and takes Clark up to the Watchtower. Clark goes. He doesn't ask what electrocuted him or who's died in the past fourteen months or if there's anything immediately urgent that he should know. Bruce would've already told him, if there was. 

And he thinks he'd choke on the question if he tried, anyway. 

They go to the med bay. There's a total stranger standing in it who smiles at them when they step through the door. 

"Haven't seen you in here in quite a while, Superman," the stranger observes in amusement, tapping a pen against the clipboard in their hands. "You still haven't been in for that checkup I owe you, you know." 

"He doesn't know you," Bruce informs them evenly. The stranger blinks. 

"Sorry?" they say. 

"He was electrocuted," Bruce says. "Now he thinks it's fourteen months ago. We need a brain scan. Immediately." 

"Hell," the stranger says, their eyes widening in alarm. 

Clark gets the brain scan. 

He and Bruce wait in a convenient exam room for the results, which seem to be taking a while. Bruce seems a bit more guarded than usual, which means Clark is standing next to goddamn Fort Knox right now. He sighs to himself. 

"Suppose at this rate I should call and tell Lois and Jon I'll be late for dinner," he jokes wryly as he folds his arms, no real humor in the comment, and Bruce goes very, very still beside him. 

. . . hell. 

They're not dead. He knows they're not dead, he heard their heartbeats before they left for the watchtower, Bruce would've already told him if either of them were–

"They aren't expecting you," Bruce says with absolutely no intonation whatsoever in his voice. "You moved out eight months ago. The divorce is already finalized." 

"Ah," Clark says, very slowly. He doesn't let himself process, again. Not–just, not yet. "What happened?" 

"You left them," Bruce says, and Clark . . . blinks. 

"I left them?!" he demands incredulously. Leaving Lois is one thing, horrible and impossible a thought as it is, but– "Not just–I left them both?!"

"As you explained it to me, you were no longer interested in maintaining the . . . 'persona' of Clark Kent," Bruce replies carefully, looking just past him. "You said you couldn't stand the screaming anymore. That you appreciated us . . . humoring you for so long, but you couldn't just keep walking around making excuses and lying to everyone while people were suffering and dying just because you had to pretend to be human for a while. So yes. You left them. Haven't visited since Lois finally signed the divorce papers. Haven't spoken to your parents either. You've been . . . erratic. Since Kon-El's disappearance. When we couldn't find him . . . when we couldn't even find out what happened to him . . ." 

"Oh," Clark says, and his heart sinks again. 

He doesn't understand, though. Kon is–he cares about the kid, obviously. Cares very deeply about him. He's pretty sure he even loves him, at this point. But he's not . . . 

It feels terrible to think it, but Clark doesn't understand why Kon disappearing like that would affect him enough to stop being Clark. It's awful, and he still hasn't let himself actually think about it happening at all because he really can't process it right now, but that awful? Really? Awful enough to abandon being any semblance of a normal person? Abandon Lois and his parents entirely? 

Abandon Jon entirely? 

Apparently, yes. 

"Technically you're on unpaid sabbatical from the Planet," Bruce tells him. "We thought you might . . . reconsider, once you'd grieved properly, so Lois pulled some strings with Perry White. He thinks you're having an early mid-life crisis and your co-workers think you're off finding yourself in South America with a bad cell phone plan." 

"I guess I don't believe in satellite phones?" Clark says, trying for wry again. It doesn't work, but he tries all the same. 

"This is unfair of me, but I'm going to take advantage of your current mental state," Bruce says. He's looking at the wall, though there's nothing there to actually be looking at. Not even anything on the other side, at least not according to X-ray vision. "Try to remember how you feel right now, when your memories of the past year return. Try to remember who you are right now, when those memories return."

"Why?" Clark asks, watching him carefully as he does. The corners of Bruce's mouth tighten. Just barely, but undeniably. 

"You've been . . . gone, Clark," Bruce says slowly. "You won't even answer to 'Clark' anymore. You aren't the same man that I . . . that we all . . ." 

The stranger comes back before Bruce has to admit to too many personal feelings or Clark can figure out what to say to any of that, which might be a mercy but might also be–

The stranger looks . . . strange, Clark notices. Nauseated, almost. And definitely distressed. 

"I haven't done brain scans on Superman before," they say, their grip on their clipboard concerningly close to white-knuckled. "And my predecessor apparently hadn't done any in a while either. Last ones in the system are over two years old." 

"What's wrong?" Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. Honestly at this point Clark figures a kryptonite brain tumor would really just be the icing on the cake, and frankly would probably explain some of his apparent behavioral changes and current memory loss. That genuinely makes more sense than anything else, really, even with grief and guilt to contend with.

More sense than abandoning his own damn kid does, at least. 

Although a tumor's the worst-case scenario, obviously. And it can't be any worse than that, really, or any worse than anything he's apparently done to his family this past year, so at least he's braced for–

"There's an . . . organism," the stranger says, swallowing uncomfortably. "In your brain." 

"What?" Clark says. 

"A dead organism, now," the stranger clarifies. "But it looks like it's been there for a while. There are . . . roots. And . . . lesions, too." 

"An organism," Bruce repeats very, very slowly. "In Superman's brain." 

"Yes," the stranger says. 

"I don't . . ." Clark trails off. 

"We need more scans," Bruce says. 

"I ran it four times on two different machines," the stranger says. "It's organic. It's not giving off any recognizable life signs. It seems like it might've been . . . you mentioned electrocution, before?" 

"You think the electricity killed it," Bruce realizes. "And then Superman forgot fourteen months?" 

"I'm not sure Superman ever experienced those fourteen months to begin with," the stranger says tightly, gripping their clipboard even harder. 

Clark was in no way whatsoever braced for this. 

"Fuck," Bruce says. 

More scans happen after all. A lot more scans, a lot of specialists, and a lot of arguing. Everything's a bit of a blur, in a sense. Clark absorbs very little of it, and mostly leaves things to Bruce unless he's asked a direct question about his medical history. His judgment might be compromised right now, after all, whether the . . . organism is dead or not. 

The emergency OR gets prepped. The red sun lamps get set up inside it. 

"Should we contact Lois?" Bruce asks as Clark's shrugging into an ill-fitting hospital gown and preparing himself to possibly die in pursuit of getting a dead who-knows-what out of his brain before it can start to rot there and potentially kill him that way. "Or your parents?" 

"No," Clark says. "Just get this damn thing out of my head." 

If he doesn't survive the removal process . . . 

They don't know what's been going on. What he let happen to himself, somehow.

He isn't going to tell them he's back just to immediately take himself away again. 

He records something for Jon, just in case. It's not enough, but it's–something, he tells himself. It's something. 

It's all he can bring himself to do. 

He leaves the disk with the recording on it with Bruce and asks him to have Dick deliver it, if it's necessary. 

Things proceed from there, and Clark wakes up again a week later in a private room in the med bay, connected to half a dozen machines and needles and tubes and directly facing the sun. Diana is dozing in the chair next to his bed. Bruce is pacing at the foot of it. They're both in costume. Clark feels weak and groggy, but he can hear half a dozen other heartbeats lingering in the hall, so presumably they were expecting him to wake up around now. 

"Mm," he says. Diana snaps awake. Bruce stops mid-step. 

They both look at him. 

"The operation was a success," Bruce informs him. "Textbook. Or as textbook as removing a mind-controlling parasite of unknown origins from a Kryptonian brain can get for mostly-human surgeons, anyway." 

"Do you need anything?" Diana asks. "Would you like us to call your family yet?" 

Clark shakes his head, then closes his eyes and sleeps for another week. 

"Sleep", he supposes, counts as something that he needs right now. 

The next time he wakes up, he's alone in his room and disconnected from the machines and just feels . . . normal, really. Like nothing was ever wrong at all and he didn't just have major surgery that was, essentially, the equivalent of multiple traumatic brain injuries. His hair is already starting to grow back from where it was buzzed down for the surgery, and there's not even any bandages on his head. 

There's no noticeable scarring, Clark observes when he makes it to the little ensuite bathroom to take a look in the mirror. The surgeons told him there probably wouldn't be, given both the methods they'd been intending to use and the nature of his own physiology, but seeing the total lack of proof of what happened to him is just . . . strange, somehow. 

It feels almost like a cheat. Like it should be obvious, in some way. 

There was a parasite in his head. Something controlling him. Pretending to be him. Passing for him. It could've done anything it wanted. 

It did do things that Clark still has no idea about. 

So many things. 

He couldn't even fight it. Wasn't conscious or aware enough to, or just not strong enough to, or just . . . 

He couldn't even fight it. 

And he doesn't know what it did. 

The door opens. Diana walks in. 

"Would you like us to call your family now?" she asks. 

"Yes," Clark says roughly, curling his fingers around the sides of the sink in front of him. "Please." 

"Of course," Diana says with a terrible and merciless gentleness. 

Clark sits down on the lid of the toilet and just . . . cries. Just for a minute. 

Or twenty. 

Diana kneels in front of him and holds his hands in her own. 

Fourteen months, Clark thinks, all twisted up with grief and pain and so, so much regret. He missed so much. He wasn't there for Jon or Lois or his parents. He wasn't there for Bruce or Diana or the League, for either of Kara, for . . . 

For Kon. He wasn't there for Kon. 

Wasn't there for Kon when the kid needed him. 

Kon completely vanished, and who knows if the damn parasite even pretended to help look for him? If it did anything at all for him? Who knows if Clark could've found him, could've saved him, if he'd still been himself at the time? 

. . . who knows if the parasite isn't what made Kon disappear to begin with? 

It took fourteen months of Clark's life, and Kon . . . Kon disappeared two weeks into those fourteen months. 

If nothing else, the timing is a screaming red flag. 

Clark abandoned his son and might've murdered a kid who only ever looked up to him, a kid who he was never really able to fully understand but literally named, and he can't do anything to bring Kon back or to make up for the year that he wasn't there for the rest of his family. 

Their family. 

God, what has he done? What has Clark done, and did Kon die feeling afraid or shocked or terrified? Did he die feeling betrayed? Did he think it was Clark doing it, however it happened? 

Did he die thinking Clark wanted him to die? 

Clark doesn't even know what happened to his body. 

There won't be another resurrection.  

Clark chokes. Diana squeezes his hands. He grips hers like a lifeline and shudders through it. The grief is a terrible, ugly thing. It's one of the worst things Clark's ever felt. 

The guilt is worse. 

"Lois," he murmurs finally, feeling like the weakest man alive. "Could you call . . . Lois, please, and just . . . ask if she'll come. I'll explain it all to her, just–could you call her, please." 

"Yes," Diana says, squeezing his hands again. "Of course." 

"Thank you," Clark says. 

He pulls himself together, more or less, and Diana goes to make the call. She comes back a few minutes later and tells him Lois agreed, but needs to find a babysitter first. Clark in no way blames her for not bringing Jon along and frankly is surprised she's willing to come at all. 

He's not sure what he could even say to Jon right now. 

What can he? 

Diana makes sure he eats something, then leaves for monitor duty. Clark tries not to overthink things. Tries not to think too much at all. 

He spent fourteen months not thinking at all, though, all of it lost in one oblivious blink, so that doesn't work out all that well for him. 

An hour later, he hears the Zeta platform activate on the opposite side of the base, and hears Lois's heartbeat appear inside the watchtower. 

Clark exhales, very slowly. 

He waits. 

Lois comes to the med bay. She doesn't stop to talk to anyone on the way. Doesn't talk to anyone except that stranger Clark still doesn't actually know the name of, who tells her where to find him. 

And then a minute or a millennium later she's standing in the open doorway of his room, and Clark is looking at her. Her expression is neutral, and her hair is shorter than it was the last time he remembers seeing her–the last time he was the one actually seeing her. An inverse bob, not shoulder-length anymore. He recognizes the blazer and heels that she's wearing, but not the blouse or the pants. Not the earrings or the necklace, either. 

And there's no wedding ring to recognize either way. 

Clark wonders what happened to his. 

God, but she's still the most amazing woman he's ever seen, and he's still never once deserved a single part of her. Not even a fraction of a part. 

Especially not now. 

"Kal," she greets, tone just as neutral as her expression, and Clark aches. 

"Clark," he says, just a little too abrupt, and Lois–pauses. 

"Clark," she amends casually as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her blazer, and if he didn't know her quite so well he wouldn't have even heard the crack in her voice around his name, super-hearing or not. "Never seen your hair this short. I kinda miss the curl, not gonna lie. It has charm, you know? Very boy scout next door." 

"I had emergency brain surgery," Clark says. Lois pauses again. Tilts her head. He keeps talking. "Two weeks ago, now. Just woke up again fully today." 

"What?" she says, just staring at him. "You–what happened?" 

"It's . . . unclear, still," Clark replies slowly. "But as far as we can tell, roughly fourteen months back an unidentified alien parasite moved into my brain and . . . took me over, essentially. I don't actually–I don't remember any of that time. At all. Then two weeks ago I got electrocuted in Keystone and the parasite died. The surgery was to remove its body so my brain could heal from the damage it did without it rotting in there." 

Lois keeps staring at him. 

"Fourteen months," she echoes very, very carefully. 

"I'm so sorry," Clark says tightly. "Bruce told me I left you. Left you and Jon. That I stopped being . . . myself. I can't imagine how difficult that was, or how it must've felt." 

"I can't imagine how waking up and hearing that none of us even noticed you were gone felt," Lois says. 

"You never do pull a punch, do you," Clark says with a weak attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," Lois says evenly. "I should've known." 

"No one did," Clark says, then . . . hesitates. "Or . . . we think no one did." 

"You think that's what happened to Kon," Lois says, because of course she's already done the math, and of course she's already had the thought herself. Obviously she would've. 

"The timing is . . . likely, at least," Clark says. "And really, if anyone was going to see my face and notice that a different person was wearing it . . ."

"You have a point," Lois murmurs. She steps into the room. Clark wants to hold her. He also wants to bury himself in the coldest, darkest place that he can find and never, ever let himself see the sun again. 

He doesn't deserve it anymore. 

"I'm so angry that I want to cry," Lois says, her voice very distant and her eyes locked on his. Clark can see her hands fisting in her pockets. "I'm so . . . god. I should've known. You never would've left Jon. Not like that." 

"Bruce made it sound like the parasite was . . . very convincing," Clark says. It convinced Bruce, who may just be the most paranoid mind on the planet, so . . .

"It was," Lois agrees, still without taking her eyes off his. "But I still should've known." 

Clark blinks a little too quickly. Lois tightens her jaw. Takes her hands out of her pockets and leaves them at her sides instead. Clark never thought he'd see them without her wedding ring again. 

"It's been–months, I know," he says, hating himself for thinking he even deserves to say this. "For you. But I still . . ." 

"I love you," Lois says. "Come home." 

There is no possible world in which he could tell her "no". 

Med bay makes him wait for another two hours of observation and runs some scans, but then they let him go. Lois waits with him the whole time. She doesn't call anyone or send any texts. Doesn't leave the room. Barely says a word. Hardly even takes her eyes off him, like she thinks if she blinks he's going to disappear. 

Clark can hardly keep her heartbeat out of his ears, so he doesn't blame her. 

He doesn't blame her at all. 

They go to Smallville. Bruce had said he'd send Dick to pick up Jon from the babysitter's and get him to the farm, and as much as Clark had wanted to go straight to him himself . . . 

Ma and Pa first, he reminds himself. This is going to be upsetting for Jon–most likely traumatic, once it all sinks in. And definitely disorienting. It'll be best if as many of the adults in his life as possible know what's going on in advance, so he can go to whoever he needs to go to; get whatever comfort they can prepare themselves to offer. 

Clark doesn't know how to do this. 

He doesn't . . . 

They don't take two steps onto the farm before a familiar blur is crashing into him head-on. 

"Oh," Clark manages, and Krypto barks excitedly and flies up to lick his face, tail wagging wildly as he jumps all over him. Like he's missed him. Like he's been waiting for him. 

Clark nearly cries again.

"Good boy, Krypto," he tells him, quiet and rough. "I missed you too, boy." 

He scratches Krypto's ears. Strokes his back. Krypto nearly bowls him over in delight. 

Clark buries his face in his neck and cries a bit after all. 

Lois watches. 

Waits. 

Clark spends . . . maybe a little bit too long crying on his dog, and then they all head up to the house. Ma and Pa are both standing on the porch; presumably they heard Krypto barking. They both look a little bit startled and a little bit confused and a lot more pained at the sight of him, and Clark swallows painfully and stops just before the porch steps. 

He looks at them, and he loves them so desperately. Everything they ever did for him, and everything they've ever been to him, and . . . 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just . . . there was . . ."

God, the way this hurts. 

"It was mind control," he says. "The past fourteen months or so. I was . . . I wasn't. Wasn't here. Or . . . anywhere." 

"Oh," Ma says, and her eyes are instantly wet with tears. Pa blinks very quickly, his hand curling against the porch railing. 

"I'm so, so sorry," Clark repeats tightly, his own hands in useless fists. "But I'm–back now. I'm home." 

"Oh, Clark," Ma chokes, and then they both throw themselves at him. Clark's been hugged by people with strength far past superhuman, but it's never felt . . . 

No. It's never once felt the same way as when his parents do it. 

They cling to him. He clings back. Krypto barks again and swoops around the knot of them, wagging his tail hard enough to nearly knock Lois over with the force of wind it stirs up. Definitely some of the porch furniture gets displaced. 

Clark feels so much. 

They sit together on the porch, Krypto sprawled contentedly across Clark's lap and Lois on the steps beside him. Clark gives Ma and Pa what explanation he can–tells them everything he knows about Keystone and the electrocution and the watchtower and the surgery and waking up. They watch him just as intently as Lois does the entire time. 

He doesn't . . . he doesn't mention his suspicions about what might've happened to Kon. Not . . . not yet. 

He doesn't know how to. Not to Ma and Pa. Not after he brought the kid here and left him on their doorstep with no real direction and . . . 

Just–he'll tell them. He'll tell them soon. 

Just . . . not yet. 

It's not a very long talk, in the end. Ma and Pa take in everything he says and just take it all in stride, just like they always have. Baby in a spaceship? Kid with superpowers? Son who thinks he can save the whole damn world? 

Of course they take it in stride. 

Clark loves them too much to even define. Too much to even wrap his own head around. They're the best people he knows. The best people he's ever known. 

They don't even think there's anything for him to be sorry for. 

It's . . . painful, a little, when Clark realizes that. 

Or a lot. 

So, so damn painful. 

Clark hears the definitely-not-a-Batmobile coming, far down the road. Three heartbeats inside it. Dick, Damian, and . . . 

Jon. 

Obviously. 

Clark strokes Krypto's ears one last time, then gets up. No one asks him why, but he supposes the look on his face must be answer enough right now. 

He steps off the porch and goes to wait by the driveway. 

It's not that long a wait, but it feels like the better part of eternity.

[starrysaturdays]

28th may fic rec!

here are some fics i really enjoyed this month in no particular order!

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) (51K) by yrsacd

a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

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Help me (298K) by louxhazxx

Harry is innocent. Louis is not. Louis is a dom and a part of the BDSM community. Harry is not.

When Harry meets Louis and finds out about his lifestyle he wants him to teach him everything. Louis is hesitant at first, but what happens when he eventually agrees and they start a special kind of BDSM relationship without a contract? Will everything go well, or will there be complications?

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a crown of heartache (70K) by WordsInBloom28

The Royal Tail: an alpha den, a strip club, a place where secrets are concealed and consent is medicated. It’s also the place Harry has been trapped for the last three years.

Through luck or fate, Harry finds his way to Louis, a kind alpha who offers safety and comfort. After being freed from the confines of the den, Harry struggles to shake the darkness from his past.

He has a choice to make. Live in a mental prison of his own making or find the strength within himself to face his demons head on with Louis at his side.

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Could Be A Catastrophe (29K) by hazzahtomlinson | @itsnotreal

Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

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giving you all you want and more (giving you every piece of me) (2.5K) by lousdelicatepointofview (starryhaze) | @starryhaze28

“Wanna feel pretty.” Harry whispers, looking up at the ceiling. His face is painted in a soft yellow hue that’s coming from the fairy lights Louis has hung all over his loft. His features look soft, cherubic even.

He’s so young, so young and broken and Louis always patches him up but never fixes him.

“You are my love.” Louis replies his finger tracing over the right laurel tattoo. And Louis knows by the way Harry grimaces that he doesn’t believe him.

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Together unfold (71K) by marcythesassykitten | @marcythesassykitten

the one where Louis is determined to be insecure and stubbornly lonely forever, until Harry comes along to mess up that particular plan.

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Written In The Stars? (50K) by unscattered_horizons

Niall is a writer. Well, technically he's a bar tender who's working towards the day when he pays the bills with his poetry. But for now, he works late and writes in the afternoon before his shifts, and shares a flat with his friend, Shawn. They were strangers before they lived together, but now they're inseparable.

His other friends from uni don't live far, and Louis and H have a kid now. Niall's in no rush to follow in their footsteps. He's happy with his life.

But he has a side job writing horoscopes for an online magazine, because London is expensive and he needs the cash. Niall may not realise it, but some of the horoscopes reveal more about his heart than he's ready to acknowledge. Niall's side gig might prove to be a catalyst for an entirely new life, one he didn't even know he wanted until it was staring right back at him, waiting for him to take a chance and trust his instincts.

OR

What I've been calling the horoscope fic. Inspired by a Tumblr post

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Maybe It's Heaven (81K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation

When Harry Styles finds himself forced to go home for Christmas, the last thing he expects is to fall in love.

But then he meets Louis Tomlinson … again.

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May You Enjoy Your New Life (264K) by aimmyarrowshigh

It begins for them all at the bungalow –

'Alright, time to lay out the cards. We’re in this together and hopefully, for the long haul, yeah? So I think – you know, we should just be honest. It’s deal-breakers time. That thing that like, if we’re gonna hate you or something, just tell us all now.'

When One Direction begins, Harry Styles is a sixteen-year-old boy foundering under the pressure of impending fatherhood. His ability to balance the sobering responsibility of caring for his tiny daughter, Millie, and the exhilaration of seeing his own dreams coming to fruition affects not only his future, but those of Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Louis, who never expected fealty to be the key to their success. But Liam is the first to show him how to grow up without growing old, and Zayn is the first to defend from the public what is private and precious. Louis -- Louis is the first for a lot of things; for most of the moments of Millie's life and for the moments of Harry's that matter. And Niall is the first to toast when Millie is born: Go maire sibh bhur saol nua -- 'may you enjoy your new life.'

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Allegiance to your burning heart (82K) by driveinbingo | @joekavaliers

“Have you written any more new songs?”

“I have, yeah. Lately they’re just…coming out of me.”

“Are there any more about me?”

He places a hand on the back of Louis’s neck, carding his fingers through the hair there. It’s getting long again, almost the length it was when Harry left. “They’re all about you.”

*

In the ten years since he last saw his ex-boyfriend, Harry has become very rich and very famous and everything's just great, thank you very much. He definitely doesn't even think about Louis anymore. And he's certainly not going to let a ghost from his past haunt him as he embarks on the biggest tour of his career.

Except Louis always did find a way to crawl underneath his skin, didn't he?

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Secrets in Winter (82K)by softfonds | @softfonds

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

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the very last drops of an ink pen (47K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

 just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

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Give Me Truths (110K) by iwillpaintasongforlou (The Rainbow Cookie series) | @canonlarry

the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

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I Like to Watch (9K) by larry_hiatus | @larry-hiatus

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

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If you made it this far, here are some stats and a cupcake!

I read 37 fics and a total of 1,657,404 words (yes thats a lot but i love reading and also a fast reader)

×͜× 🧁🌼

[vitaminseetarot]

March Blessings For You 🍃🐇🍀

Sup y'all, welcome back to another pick a card reading. Rabbit rabbit for everyone as we head into March. Hope you enjoyed a good leap day and are excited to let the winter melt away into spring. I'm looking forward to changing things up around here.

I have finally decided on what my next tarot game will be about this month, so stay tuned within the following week or two. This game will likely not be as extensive as my last one, but it will last longer than my first game so more can join. I'm excited for this one, it'll definitely be more for fun. I'll send out a notice before I start it!

Today's pick a card reading is simply about what kind of blessings will be available for you this month. Here are the three piles to choose:

Pile 1 - Exquisite Emerald Pile 2 - Pure Turquoise Pile 3 - Jade Mountain

Pile 1

Emerald and Milk Thistle, Rescue, Avocado - Prosperity, The In-Between, 13 - Awareness; Knight of Swords, XX Judgement, Ace of Cups, 8 of Swords, 6 of Cups

How's it going, group 1? "Heal the Healer." I'm sensing that many consider you, or you consider yourself, to be a big helper for loved ones in daily life. The term "mom/dad friend" might sound familiar to you. Someone others can rely on, you're seen as a solid supportive friend in their regular troubles. Even with simple things like helping a friend move from their apartment, or getting a classmate's grade up in a class you excel with. At work, you may be the person others call on to take the extra shift. Sometimes, it was necessary, they had to take their pet in for an emergency. Other times, they just wanted a vacation and didn't really notice how taxing it was to ask so much from you.

Pile 1, March is the month to turn the tables around in time for the change of the season. "Help others in need or ask for assistance when you need it." You have the chance to ask someone else to help you out the same way you are often asked to help. March will bless you with the feeling of "having your back." The universe has been watching you struggle and is preparing your table for rewards to be served fresh. This help will likely come once you begin moving into a transitory phase. See how the Awareness card looks symmetrical to the In-Between card? These cards together remind me of the Moon card. You're in a state where one cycle has ended and another is beginning, you're already in that first phase so to speak. This space is full of uncertainty, and it's important to not listen to projections that speak of things as though they're going to happen just because they've happened before. The 6 of Cups involves overthinking about the past, assuming that things will be the same as they were before.

Allow the prosperous energy from Avocado to clarify the 8 of Swords here. You may be feeling stuck and unsure of where you're life is going next, but you know you can't enter the next chapter of your life worn out before you're even out of bed. Awareness features moonstone and mugwort on the card. You're being asked to pay attention to your dreams. Imagine what kind of prosperous things have happened in your past, and what kind of prosperity is available for you in the future, just before you fall asleep at night, then journal your dreams. Symbols may reveal themselves over time to give you clues for your conscious mind to consider. Your subconscious mind wants to help you with your stress, if that makes any sense, as it uses images and not words to speak.

Emerald is Venusian energy, and avocados are creamy enough to be made into dessert (ever had a chocolate avocado "cheese"cake? I have, it was actually very good!) March wants to bless you with a little indulgence. Ace of Cups says you will experience a lot of spiritual and emotional replenishment if you make it a focus to do so this month. If things are slow now, consider it a time of peace and budding opportunity. You may not be used to getting some needed rest if you're helping others out more, but the advice here is to take the time off as it comes, and make an intention to relax. Judgement card reminds you that the pace will pick up again soon, so enjoy some down time when you get it this March. Put some of that avocado on toast and enjoy your breakfast. Your body and soul will thank you.

Pile 2

Turquoise and Forget-Me-Not, Communicate, Artichoke - Renewal, Level Up, 9 - Self-Acceptance; 10 of Wands, Queen of Swords, I Magician, 10 of Swords, X Wheel of Fortune

Hey, pile 2. Hope you're doing well. I got a little concerned while shuffling the Earth Wisdom cards when the whole deck slipped and made a loud "thunk" on my table, right next to where the cracks in the Turquoise card. Do some of you live in a loud place, or near angry people who yell and slam doors? The dragon's face on the 10 of Wands looks like they're sick of hearing their neighbors upstairs. For others of you, this cracking is more internally. Do you feel as though you may be cracking under some kind of pressure at work or school? You may even be feeling the urge to let out a fiery rage breath as well.

The Turquoise card says "Balance". See the man rock climbing beside the cracks? It's easy to imagine he can keep going without stopping to catch his breath, but wouldn't that make him like Superman? This month, you'll be able to see exactly what you're capable of. You're recognizing your own talents and strengths. This is a month of learning how to do your best without wearing yourself thin, and it's because you're getting a more accurate picture of what you can do. It's like singing while having noise cancelling headphones in, so you can't hear yourself. March's blessing will take those headphones off so you can hear for yourself how good you sound. You'll see that you were trying harder than necessary. You can take a step back while still moving forward.

Turquoise is a stone well known in many cultures, but I personally read it as a stone of friendship. You'll be blessed with a good friendship or important connection, someone you can confide in with trust. "Things left unsaid will never reach the shore." With Queen of Swords, you're becoming more discretionary about your boundaries and who you speak with. You may have been going through troubles that are hard to talk about. The dragon's mouth is wrapped shut; it may have been a struggle even when you tried, as though you were scared of what your friend would think. Remember, pile 2, that a real friend will want to see you happy, will accept you for who you are, and will cheer you on as you climb to the top. Don't be afraid for long and much needed conversations in March, for as long as you approach it like the Queen here, a good talk will strengthen a relationship. And absolutely talk to someone if you're in need of immediate help, like with relocation.

March may be the start of a "phoenix" season for you, where you will have a gradually unfolding but nevertheless significant period of your life. See the subtle rainbow on the "100"? It was unintentional, the card reacted to my suncatcher and the rainbow just happened to land there glowing. If you're starting at a bottom, pile 2, then you're only going up from here, even if with some scars. Artichokes are actually immature flowers. The past cycle in your life may have felt "incomplete". March will be the beginning of you getting a second chance to let something like a project come into full bloom. Fun side note, but apparently March 16th is National Artichoke Day (in the US). So be on the lookout for an opportunity coming in for you around the 16th. It could be small, but it may be something that brings you into spring's energy of renewal and positive change. Don't forget to stay in touch with people who care about you this month, pile 2, because an outing with them could become a transformative experience for the both of you.

Pile 3

Jade and Pink Lotus, Generosity, Kale - Dedication, Letting Go, 21 - Shadow Treasures; XXI The World, 5 of Swords, XVI The Tower, XX Judgement, VIII Strength

Hello, group 3! March will be a refreshingly easy going month for you if you make the choice to kick back. You are "sinking into silence" after a long and very difficult time in your life. You, out of all three piles, desire to move forward with the year more than anyone. The silence in the jade card feels welcome. The change is long overdue and feels inevitable, so why rush to the starting line of a race? Especially after just finishing a few strenuous laps in the woods. This is a month-long sigh of relief. A quiet, easygoing time will be your primary blessing in March. Jade is bringing much due healing energy for you. Allow yourself the chance to meditate upon the time you've just experienced, as self-reflection can help us clear the way for us to see better.

I can't help but notice the way in which your cards form a picture of a tree falling apart. The leaves give way to autumn, as the trunk of the old fall maple tree lights up from the storms of change. At the roots, however, we see beauty still alive underneath. It shows that the same potential lies beneath, even if situations can look hopeless. Conflict was overgrowing around the tree, sapping it of its vitality. To let go and rebuild was the only way around it, to protect the delicate root system it had to downsize. A lot of growth will come from how you use this time now, because the last phase gave way for new seeds to grow. These seeds will no doubt benefit from what good was left behind, as it was ultimately meant to be shared and not kept hidden forever.

If this feels too abstract, I will liken it to decluttering the house. You may be in the mood to do that as well this month, and March may bless you with a more organized house. This is also a decluttering of old systems, thoughts, and behaviors that no longer work for you, letting you move ahead with a clean slate. If a messy house has been an issue for you, someone might come to help you sort it out, even spirit guidance kind of help. If clearing old things away is difficult, you'll be guided through it. You may have the opportunity to give old unwanted stuff away and even find something that you've been searching for a long time. "Where has that been?" It might not be easy to get started at first but it'll soon become much welcomed change once you notice the difference.

You have the word "treasure" show up twice in your reading. "What good is treasure if you keep it for yourself?" You may something special within yourself that gets discovered as you move through this month. It's a part of you that has gone unnoticed. But when things get quiet, the tiniest things become more noticeable. Things left unspoken creep out from the shadows. I actually don't see you going through shadow work this period, if anything you're walking from it the way a hero puts on sunglasses and walks away from a Michael Bay explosion without looking back. You've been like kale here, hardy in the face of a freezing winter, staying green in faith that spring will bring warmth and light soon enough. Some people don't believe kale has any nutritional value, but that's because they tastelessly judge from a distance. Once you unearth your own shadow treasures from your roots, don't be shy to share your gift with others. You might, like kale, become the next trend.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I don't want to contribute to paying for furniture for the house?

1/3/2024, Names changed. Sorry, this is a little long.

I (26) live with three roommates: Kay (22) who is my sister, Sam (22) who is Kay's high school sweetheart and fiancé, and Andy (25) who is Kay and Sam's best friend. All of us are autistic, queer, and neurodivergent in some way or another.

Background info; Kay, Sam, and Andy had had plans to move in together for several years with Andy moving cross country to do so. Kay and I both moved out of our parents house within a month of each other in Summer 2022, with Kay and Sam moving in together, and me moving into an apartment by myself. Early 2023 due to issues with my apartment and landlord and being unable/unwilling to stay there past my lease when it was up in six months, with some encouragement from our mother Kay asked if I wanted to move in with the three of them because Kay and Sam's lease was up around the same time mine was and they were already planning on getting a bigger place to live with Andy when he got here. Due to the aforementioned apartment troubles and having a hard time mentally living alone for the first time, I accepted. We found a small house and the four of us moved in Summer 2023.

Now we've butted heads a good bit the last couple months (especially me and Andy because we had barely known each other before moving in together and we have very different personalities), including a few very loud fights, but we have thus far managed to eventually talk it out and work it out and kept things mostly under control. I admit, there have been times where I was definitely the asshole in situations, but I've acknowledged that, apologized, and tried to improve my behavior since then. Anyway, this ask isn't about all those times.

A lot of my issues in the household stem from my depression and lack of motivation to get things done. A big contributing factor to that is that I am painfully aware I wasn't part of their original plan, and that leads to me not feeling wanted as part of this house. The three of them often do things without me like playing D&D, and hanging out/going fun places without me, while things I want to do with all of them just kinda never happens, like playing a video game or board game with one of them, or going out somewhere fun I want to go. Some of me not being included is completely justified like Kay and Sam's date nights, and some things while they do still sting a bit to be excluded from make sense why (like their D&D games that can get very NSFW, and I'm a sex-repulsed asexual. also being Kay's sister would make it extremely awkward regardless of my sexuality. I only found out about the NSFW nature of their games two weeks ago though), but certain things it doesn't feel like as good a reason for me to not be included or it's not actually communicated to me why I'm not invited to be part of something.

A REALLY big thing that contributed to these feelings I have was the day we got the keys to our house, as Kay and Andy were showing it to me, Kay told me "Just so you know, this isn't permanent. You're going to get your own place again eventually" with a soft deadline of two years because that's when another of their friends graduates college and might need a place to stay after. Over the last few months we have had several conversations about my feelings of being unwanted and Kay has apologized saying that what she meant that day came out wrong. What she meant by that statement was they all want to help me become more independent so that I will be able to move out and live on my own again one day when I'm ready since the first time didn't go so well. They were not/are not planning to kick me out, and the other friend moving in is just an idea that may not even come to fruition anyway. Even if it was partially a misunderstanding and there is no set time I need to be out of the house by, knowing that there is an end in sight has made it much harder for me to settle in because I don't feel like I can get settled since I'll just have to leave again at some point anyway even if that time is literal years away. Sorry if that doesn't make sense but that's the best way I can phrase it.

With all that background out of the way, I'll get back on track now. Kay and Andy have spent months planning on how to decorate the house and want to make the whole first floor (kitchen, living room, and shared craft space in the front room) themed like a medieval tavern. I haven't been able to give much input on how the house gets decorated outside of my own room. I've been trying to at least make my bedroom feel more homey since it's where I spend a lot of my time, but the common areas are much harder for me to feel comfortable and like I belong in because I don't have much control/input in how they will look. Which again, I know I'm not going to be here super long term, so it makes sense but it still sucks.

Now onto the actual situation here. There is a dining table set that Kay and Andy picked out that costs over $400 that Kay said on 12/25 she wants us all four to pitch in to get for the household for her birthday in a couple months. I am hesitant to contribute to this set, because I am not going to live with them forever. Obviously I pay my part to the household. I pay my fair share of rent, utilities, and food (though I will often make mini grocery runs throughout the week and I rarely if ever ask for money I spent back because I feel awkward about asking for money from any of them). I have already contributed towards furniture for the house but that is either things that are explicitly and exclusively mine despite household use (a tv stand I already had, a bookshelf I bought to display my things) and will come with me when I move out, or something that was a gift for someone else but still not ridiculously expensive (a $40 secondhand curio cabinet the rest of us got for Kay as an early Christmas present and various other small decorations for around the house).

There was another interaction today that has me a little upset. We've been thinking of getting a second TV for the living room so we can play online co-op games together. Who pays for the TV, determines who gets to keep the new one and who takes the old one when I leave. If the three of them want to keep the new TV, they're going to split the cost and I get the old one, however if I want the new TV I will have to pay for the whole thing myself. 1 person vs 3 people paying for something just feels unfair to me.

But the dining set feels different because it's a lot of money and I won't get to take any part of it with me when I eventually leave. With the TV I'd at least get to keep it. I feel guilty about not wanting to help pay for it, especially because Kay has said she wants it as a birthday gift, but if it almost feels like I'm just buying furniture for someone else's house. Honestly, I'll probably end up sucking it up and contributing anyway because I really don't like confrontation and tend to keep my feelings to myself anyway, but I just want to know other people's opinion on the situation.

Money has been a growing issue for me lately. I'm the only one with a stable, salaried job (barely pays above minimum wage though so it's not like I'm rolling funds), while Kay and Sam are hourly and Andy is between jobs right now. Like I said, I feel awkward about asking for money from any of them. Honestly I don't mind paying a little extra here and there to help out since I'm not much help with the cooking and cleaning, but the amount I have been contributing with no compensation has been eating away at my savings the last few months and I've been keeping silent about it because I don't want to make them feel guilty about it and make it awkward.

TLDR; I'm insecure and have trouble feeling wanted around by my roommates, and am expected to eventually move out. WIBTA if I don't want to help buy a dining set for the household because I won't get to take any part of it with me when I move out?

PS- If it's not too much trouble, could you please tag @aita-roommates-furniture so I am notified when this gets posted? Tumblr won't let me submit asks from a sideblog. If not, no worries! I'll just keep an eye out for it

What are these acronyms?

[just-j-really]

Unsoulmates part four (a new hope)

Masterpost

Hob texts Morpheus two days after he and Audrey break up, because he's got two tickets to a ballet and absolutely no use for them anymore. He'd offered them to Gwen, first, but her girlfriend (her soulmate, actually, her soulmate she'd met at a Ren Faire in a moment out of a fairytale, complete with a kiss-print soulmark on the back of her hand) has even less interest in ballet than Hob does. And he knows bringing it up to any of his other friends will only get him concerned questions about why he keeps doing this to himself, wouldn't he be happier if he stopped actively avoiding his One True Love.

So offering them to Morpheus, who hasn't spoken to him in a month but probably won't do that, is the best option by default.

Shockingly, Morpheus replies. He even offers to meet Hob at the White Horse, a pub they'd frequented back when they were still sort of talking, to pick up the tickets.

Even more shockingly, Morpheus is already at a table when Hob arrives at the pub four nights later, like he's planning to sit and talk with Hob. Like before.

Hob is not entirely sure how he feels about that, but he's also running on maybe three hours of sleep, and the chair next to Morpheus looks extremely inviting, so he lets himself topple into it.

"If you ask me how I'm doing I'm going to get up and leave," he warns Morpheus, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. He might just take a nap here. It's been impossible to fall asleep, these past few days, without the warmth of someone else in bed with him. And it's so easy, lying there with the tangible reminder of how alone he is, to let his thoughts spiral into why didn't she stay why didn't she even consider it wasn't it worth it?

But here, with the warmth and the noise of people around him and this unbelievably comfortable armchair, an uneasy half-doze starts to overtake him. He's drifting, wondering where in the world Morpheus found an armchair, when a soft tapping noise drags him back to reality.

When he opens his eyes, Morpheus is sliding a beer across the table to him. He doesn't say anything, just looks at Hob levelly, and Hob thinks that's why, why he opens his mouth to say thanks, what comes out instead is a cracking, "Do you know what it's like, having people congratulate you for having your heart ripped out?"

His voice sounds even worse than he feels.

Morpheus inclines his head at Hob in that familiar little nod; go on, I'm listening.

It's a small kindness, but it still makes Hob feel like his chest is cracking in half.

"Everyone acts like it's fine. Like it's a good thing. 'Yeah it hurts now but at least you'll stop wasting your life, at least now you'll find the person you were meant for.'"

He takes a breath. Takes a drink. "Nevermind that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her."

And then the whole story is spilling out of him, in an out-of-order slurry: the moment it happened- Audrey gesturing wildly as they ducked through the concert crowd, hand in hand; her stunned little gasp as her arm bumped another emphatic gesture-er; they way he'd stood there, confused, still holding Audrey's hand, while she and her soulmate stared longingly into each other's eyes.

The way she'd yes-anded even his stupidest bits, the way they'd had their own shared language of in-jokes, the way conversations with her were a dance and she always knew the next step.

The way, within a week, she'd scrubbed herself out of his life entirely, like she needed to fake her death to start her new life with The One.

"And- and I knew marriage wasn't happening, right?" he finds himself saying, some time and several drinks later. "Fuckin nobody marries their not-soulmate, which is STUPID. It's so stupid, remind me to tell you how stupid it is. But I thought. I thought we- I thought there was something. Something good. I thought maybe we could last."

The sentence gets much too wobbly at the end, and Hob swipes a hand roughly over his eyes.

"What did you want, then?" Morpheus asks.

Hob glares at him.

"If not marriage," Morpheus says, as though clarity were the problem there. He seems... sincere, though. Like he's actually asking the question, not trying to nudge Hob into an epiphany about the futility of his life goals. Hob's heard the second thing enough to know what it sounds like. And Morpheus has that- look, on his face. The Hob-is-an-insect look, but not. It's... it's like if that look were kinder, more genuine. More vulnerable.

So for what may be the first time, when asked that question, Hob actually considers his answer before responding. "I dunno what I wanted," he says. "I just want- I want someone to choose me. Not have me forced on them."

Morpheus stares at him. Studies him. As though the secret of life itself has somehow been hidden in Hob's face.

Hob stares back, pinned. Entranced. A little confused.

"You know," he says, after a moment, "I'm not actually a bug."

Morpheus sighs. "Come on," he says, "Let's get you home."

Despite Hob's insistence that he is fine, really, just a little tipsy and a lot heartsick and sleep deprived, Morpheus does walk him home.

Hob only remembers the tickets when they reach his building, and only then someone had stuck a sticker of a dancer to the back of a lamppost. "Here," he says, rooting around in his jacket pocket until he finds the envelope, and handing it over, "At least someone will get use out of them."

Morpheus stares at the envelope like he's never seen one before.

When he looks up at Hob, his eyes are glistening with tears. "Are you," he asks, quietly. He pauses for a long time, long enough that Hob starts to wonder if he'd handed over the wrong envelope, and then wonder what deeply tragic envelopes he could possibly have been carrying around.

"Are you going to look for your soulmate now?" Morpheus asks. His voice is as even, almost soothing, as ever.

He's looking at Hob as though the wrong answer will be his death sentence.

"Are you kidding me?" Hob asks. Despite everything, he finds himself grinning. "Never. The love of my life is out there, somewhere, I'm not going to discount them for something stupid like soulmates."

Morpheus smiles.

Truly smiles, for the first time that Hob has seen. It's a lovely expression, soft, hesitant, but so genuinely, contagiously delighted. And Hob knows, with the same bone-deep certainty as his disbelief in soulmates, that he'd protect that smile at all costs.

"Also," he says, because there's not much protection he can offer right not but there is always the shining, thrilling possibility of coaxing another smile out of Morpheus tonight, "I'm starving. Do you want to get dinner?"

[elvisabutler]

OK, I'll bite: since your requests are open, may we please, with all the cherries on top, get a Dove pregnancy fic? If you have the time and energy, of course - I know your WIP list is crazy, and I'm sure you have all kinds of things going on irl too, as we all do! 😘

if your child needs a daddy, i can help

summary: you find yourself pregnant with your first kid and you and austin make room for them in your lives despite how sometimes the whole pregnancy makes you feel emotionally and physically. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m, i suppose. he does get his finger inside of her. pairing: austin butler x priscilla actress reader ( little dove verse ) word count: 2261 warnings: the normal warnings apply for this verse. daddy kink. dom/sub dynamics. brief mentions of past relationships that were not at all pleasant. anxiety. negative self talk. pregnancy kink. breeding kink. THESE WARNINGS MAKE IT SOUND MORE SMUTTY THAN IT IS. but it's actually quite fluffy. austin's just horny for his wife. referenced/implied fingering. future and past p in v sex referenced. author’s note: consider this canon for the main verse? obviously set in the future so- god maybe 2024/2025? generally speaking i loved this prompt and technically meant to keep it short or at the very least fluffy but uh- well austin's a horndog is really what happened. thank you anon for this prompt, truly, i'm really trying to get up the courage/gumption to restart actually actively writing for dove and austin and stuff like this and the asks really help more than you know. also thank you for acknowledging my crazy wip list. didn't actually think i'd write this as quick as i did, and truly i meant to have it up on mother's day when i realized how quick i was writing it but this past weekend. lord she was a doozy in my work real life. anyway i hope you like it and anyone who actually wants to be tagged for this verse, either hit me up in my ask box or my dms or someway. i didn't do my normal austin tag list for this because i know this verse has been known to occasionally bother some people and i don't want to put it in your face if you don't want to read it, you know?

It happens- as all things do with you and Austin- quickly. It comes within the two months of you telling Austin you want to make Austin a real Daddy. A daddy who can hold his child and rock it and sing it little lullabies until it grows up to be and strong like their parents. You'd think since you're a grown woman and a surprising amount of your life has become regimented in ways it wasn't after dating and then marrying Austin that you wouldn't miss your period and not notice. You wouldn't miss it one month, two months and only realize something's strange when you go to visit Austin to see his show and hiss and practically yelp in pain when he presses up against your chest. They were bigger but they always got a little bigger around your period, it was fine. But then Austin is murmuring in your ear and pressing his hand against your stomach where he can feel a firmness where there wasn't one before.

"Are you pregnant?"

That's a weird question to ask, you're due for your period any day now, you think, thinking that you're close enough to the beginning of the next month that you're due for one soon. Not that it'll be your third missed period in a row. You shake your head, "no, I'm due for it next week, I think."

Austin raises an eyebrow and presses against the firm spot, waiting for it to give only to realize it's staying firm, there's something there. "When was your last one, Dove?"

You open your mouth to answer once, twice, three times before you look down at his hand against your stomach and see how your breasts are practically spilling out of your bra and you let out a noise of delight and shock rolled into one. Your voice is soft when you answer him finally. "I don't remember."

The squeal of delight you let out and the way Austin laughs and laughs and laughs twirling you around before setting you back down so he can kiss your belly is something the cast talks about for the next week or two.

It's a flurry to try and get things rescheduled, have projects pushed back or dropped all together as your belly starts to curve outward, becoming harder and harder to hide as the weeks go by. You and Austin had made an agreement to not announce a single thing before 12 weeks. It wasn't a guarantee nothing would go wrong but it put you in a safer territory than you would be if you announced earlier. Austin argues every so often that you shouldn't make an announcement, not because he doesn't want people to know but because he's so fiercely protective over your private life with him beyond what the two of you have to show that exposing your child to this nonsense fills him with dread. He worries about the judgment he figures you'll get over having a baby like this. Worries about how if you want to book something short that people may look at your belly and realize that it's not worth it. Maxwell and Simon, your agents and managers and pseudo dads rolled into one promise to get you just one more thing even if you'll have an obvious belly for them because they care about you and your career almost if not more than Austin does.

You tell him- no, you explain to him that you can't do that, you can't go into hiding because you're pregnant. You want to be able to tell the world that you're carrying his baby, that your belly is growing because you told him you wanted a baby. This baby may not be their child, but they're your fans and what would you be without your fans? No, you have to announce it so that you can finally stop hiding in oversized hoodies and dresses tailored to hide your bump. Besides, you've been known to read the gossip blogs and the magazines while waiting for your doctor's appointments. You know very well there's theories as to what's going on and how people find it suspicious you've gone from full body shots on instagram to above the waist shots. There's theories about why you had to drop out of a film that you'd be filming while nine months pregnant and ready to pop if you did. This is the only real way to put them to rest.

"Looking forward to this little one and I having many more mother's days to come. Your daddy and I can't wait to meet you." is the caption you go with on Mother's day with Austin's hands and your hands on your stomach. The comments make you cry though if Austin asks you're only crying because of the hormones. Not because of your little Elvis family bombarding your comments with congratulations or the way any negative comments get overwhelmed by happier comments. Even Kaia and Vanessa say congratulations and you feel something in your chest loosen at the knowledge. You feel the fear that had gripped your heart deep down that whispered how you'd have to hide this pregnancy like you hide your submission to Austin- like you hid your relationships with your other doms- disintegrate and evaporate into thin air.

Austin knows the second he sees your smile and sees your response to a few messages that he's doomed, he's lost the fight of getting you to remain a little more private about the pregnancy. Truthfully he's just thankful you agree with him that the two of you are going to try your absolute hardest to keep the baby themselves out of the limelight. And - as he murmurs, cupping your growing bump one night- their three siblings. Your feed is split between promoting your new project, random other things you'd do and posts about your growing bump, your occasional sickness and how pregnancy isn't really all it's cracked up to be even when you want a baby.

It comes to a head one day when you're seven months pregnant with your big long baby that Austin felt the need to gift you with all his height genes and you're posting something about how this week has just been rough.

"I'm not speaking for everyone, obviously, and all you infertility moms can tell me I'm wrong, but for me- I'm- society gives us all some rose tinted glasses when it comes to pregnancy and from what some of you guys have told me, motherhood." You sigh, wincing as your daughter kicks your rib cage and does this somersault that has your stomach rolling and twisting. "I want more kids but- this hurts. This hurts and I feel huge and I can't breathe sometimes because they're pressing on everything and I know you guys have seen the pap photos, I can't even really hug Austin right any more."

Austin for his part knows better than to interrupt when he hears you talking to yourself and despite his better judgment waits outside your shared bedroom door until he hears words that stop his heart.

"It's selfish, I guess, but I worry sometimes that he doesn't- he isn't going to like me nearly as much when the baby comes out. We've all heard about how guys do that and Austin's but- I don't know. I'm being melancholy and that's not what you signed up for today." You lift up your shirt to show your bump as your daughter does another roll that you manage to catch on camera. "I guess they wanted to show off at the expense of mommy. You are definitely your father's kid."

When it's been silent for a few minutes and he hears you grunt in pain he finally walks inside the room to see you standing in front of the mirror, cupping your bump before running your hands over your chest. There's a part of him in the back of his head that finds the action arousing beyond belief but he sees the look on your face and sees how you're playing with your necklace as the hand that was on your breast moves up. You're so engrossed in looking at your body and allowing your mind to whisper things to you that you don't notice Austin until he's up behind you and his hands are lifting up your belly just so.

"Oh, Aus- Fuck, Daddy, keep your hands there." You moan, the relief palpable in your tone. "That feels so good, she's been-"

"Growing too fast and too big for my little Dove?" Austin's tone is light and playful has he kisses your neck, watching the two of you in the mirror. "The joys of having me as the other half of the genes. Two more months and then she's out of you and you're free until the next one."

Your jaw tenses just a little at the words. It's not that you don't want another baby but who's truly to say he's going to want you enough to make one. The silence after his joke is what makes Austin pause and has him kissing at your jaw. "What's wrong?"

Because something is wrong and you have to communicate with him, if you need something you need to tell him, that's always been the rule in your relationship. A sigh leaves your lips. "There's- you're not going to find me attractive-" you pause and try to take a breath before the first thought that comes to your mind leaves your mouth in a rush. "Elvis didn't like Priscilla after she had Lisa."

Austin drops your belly gently against your protests and turns you to face him while shaking his head, taking your head in his hands. "Dove. Don't- we're not them, remember?"

"I know that!" You practically whine before rubbing at your eyes that are quickly filling with tears. "I know we're not! I know you're Austin and I'm me but I look and feel like a beached whale and my boobs are huge and will probably sag everywhere-"

Austin places his finger on your lips before shaking his head. "I'm going to stop you right there and tell you to look down." He watches you as your eyes slide down his torso and stop between his legs. He's- he's hard just from looking at you and touching you. There's his arousal staring you in the face in his grey sweatpants and you can't help but bite your lip. It twitches a little.

"You're- Daddy."

"I'm hard. You know how I've been the bigger you get. I thought you were attractive before but carrying my baby? Watching your belly swell and seeing your boobs escape every bra you put them in? Dove, if my dick had it's way you'd be pregnant every second you could be." He murmurs, allowing his hands to slide down your neck to your chest where he gives your breasts and nipples a squeeze before sliding down to your stomach. "And when this belly is gone? When our daughter is suckling at your chest? I'm going to remember that you did this. Going to remember how my wife grew our daughter and is feeding her from her own body still. I'm going to know that you're strong and perfect. And I'm going to remind myself we have a baby schedule to stick to. That I can't just immediately put another one inside of you."

His words cause a shudder to ripple through you and Austin smirks just a little, moving his hands down lower and lower, "Dove, if I put my hand between your legs how wet is it going to get?"

You feel your breath shakily leave your mouth. "Soaked. Please, Austin-"

A kiss cuts off your words as Austin's hand slides in between your leggings and your skin, inching ever so closer to where he's ignited a fire. He pulls away just a hair and shakes his head. "Try again, lil Dove. Please who?"

The eyeroll you give him holds no malice but you can't help it even as your arousal threatens to overwhelm you. "Daddy, please."

"I'll always give my Dove what she needs," he murmurs, finally sliding his fingers inside of you with a low groan from both of you.

It's funny how after that night your sex life with Austin up until the end of your pregnancy became a little more intense. More frequent as if to reassure you any time the voice inside your head got too loud and any time every trick your therapists taught you failed. Austin loved you and there wasn't a single doubt about that. Even if there was, the way he was by your side throughout your labor with your daughter would have done away with any doubts. There wasn't much more you could ask for in a partner than what he did for you that day and what he does for you as you recover.

It's a week before any of you are ready to take a picture but you're thankful for Ashley recommending a good photographer for the newborn pictures despite Austin's protests that he could take his own. After all, you wanted him in some of them, and you didn't trust an autotaken picture for this. When it comes time for Austin to post that your daughter's been born he goes for a simple picture that shows your hand on top of Austin's and Loretta's on yours with a simple caption: isn't she lovely, isn't she wonderful.

He saves the other photos for you to post.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Clockwork. - OC Story

pairing: COD OC!Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x Simon "Ghost" Riley bonus: MootOC!Meabh "Pirate" O'Malley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish words: 1.4k~ (on the dot, bby!) cw: canon simon backstory. + none. just toothrotting fluff.

December and May are Simon's least favourite months of the year.

December because it's the constant reminder of his family passing.

May because it's the constant reminder that he was the cause of all his family's issues.

Simon was born within days of his own father's birthday; "a late birthday present" everyone called it...

Nevermind the fact the druggie was too high to even attend his own son's birth, and that his mum had to get herself to the hospital alone, with a young Tommy tucked under her arm.

Simon had a bad birth, having breached feet first, and having to get rotated in utero, and then having been born with the umbilical chord around his neck, which meant he needed extra care afterward.

Simon needed to get surgery at age 3 because of tonsilitis.

Simon needed glasses growing up, which is mum could barely afford.

Simon had trouble saying his Ss, so for a long time, he got mocked at school for calling himself "Shimon"... and ended in him having speech classes.

Simon's grades were horrendous, and he had a tendency to get into fights at school, which caused his mum to have to take hours off work to come see his teachers.

Simon.

Simon.

Simon.

Always him, at the root of every problem.

And yet Simon was the only one in the house to raise his voice (and later his fists) at the drunk that was his father, which earned him countless trips to A&E.

Simon was the one with the neglected birthday, not because his mum and Tommy didn't remember, but because being right after his own father's, the leech would blow all their money on a rager, and leave the family unable to eat, let alone buy the boy a cake.

So Simon learned to not care.

Going into the Army, people didn't really show that big of a deal about it like they would at a normal job. Hard to, when you spend all your time fearing a bomb will fall on you or a bullet will bury itself on your body.

But then he went home, and when he kicked that bag of bones out of the house, and got Tommy into rehab... It got different. Got... better. The birthdays got easier. There were phone calls, and cards, and he actually... sort of... looked forward to it.

Whenever he'd be scheduled for leave, he'd go home, and mum would've bought them a cake and they'd sing happy birthday, and mum would give him things he needed; clothes, boots, they'd watch films together, she'd kiss his forehead so often...

Then, Beth came along. And now he suddenly was being forced fed cake and handed gifts that he had no clue what to do with... So his barracks suddenly had color. There were new towels, and little trinkets, picture frames with photos from home...

Then Joseph came, the little boy that had been the apple of his eye, that learned to talk in May, at 10 months old, and Simon got an e-mail with a video from them, where little Joseph mumbled his way past a 'SiSi!' while pointing at a picture of him in Tommy's phone... One of, if not the, best gift he'd ever received.

And they they were gone.

It only got so much worse after that night.

He swore he'd never celebrate his birthday again.

All he had ever loved had been stripped from him.

He wondered if it was his fault.

If he was, somehow, destined to bring bad luck to all those around him.

If he was, somehow, the root of all evil.

If, because he spited some God, all that he loved, all that he touched, was destined to die in his hands.

He spent three years locked in a haze. Mission to mission, job to job, move move move, and never stop.

He spent three Mays buried in work so he couldn't think, and buried in alcohol so he couldn't feel.

And then, on the fourth...

“He tried to get the radiophone off me, so I broke a couple of his fingers… And his wrist. And kicked him in the balls.”

“It's a… Mexican-style MRE. Has beans and cheddar cheese or something. It's the only one I actually don't mind eating. The others are disgusting.”

“That feels like a dig at my social skills.”

“I've been swimming since I was a girl. Navy made sense too.”

“Took a napalm bath.”

For once since that bloody fucking day, he actually wanted something more than to simply forget, to drink himself into a coma and only waking up days later with his phone ringing and Price talking about a new mission.

God, Victoria made him laugh. She made him roll his eyes. She made him scoff. She made him talk. She made him listen.

Of course he couldn't let that go... let her go.

Of course he went looking for her once he was on leave.

Of course he held her close for those two nights.

Of course he held her close in that safehouse.

Of course he bore his face out for her when he got shot.

Of course, of course, of course.

He didn't isolate anymore, every May after that.

Simon'd wake up on his birthday and throw back the covers and sit on the edge of the bed and before the thoughts got to him, she'd already be wrapping her arms around his midsection, and pressing her cheek to his back.

And he'd put his hands over hers, and hear her breathing, and her heartbeat pressed against his back... And he'd close his eyes.

They didn't need to speak.

Victoria never wished him a 'Happy Birthday', but she'd always make sure to bake him a little sweet treat for dinner.

They share it the same way they shared their ''wedding cake'': sat across from each other in their kitchen, with a backdrop of trees beside them, a single knife to cut a slice, feeding each other pieces off the blade.

And when the thoughts got to be too much, on his birthday or all throughout the month, he'd simply turn and look at her, cup her face in his hand, and look her in the eye...

In those moments, he wanted to say it, he could feel it in the tip of his tongue...

That he cherished her.

That he appreciated all she did.

That she kept him sane.

That she was the best thing to have ever happened to him.

That she was like a lighthouse when he felt like a bloody gondola lost at open sea (wildly unprepared and definitely about to tip over and drown).

That he'd die for her.

That he'd kill (and had killed, and would kill again) for her.

That even if there was nothing else to go on for... he'd keep going for her.

That he loved her.

The words were always at the tip of his tongue.

Not just then, but every day. At all points of the day.

Whenever they touched, he'd want to say it.

Whenever they spoke, he'd want to say it.

Whenever they'd lock eyes, he'd want to say it.

Whenever he breathed, he'd want to say it.

His tongue would swirl with the taste of it, of the love he felt for her...

But the words never really made it out...

But he knew. And she knew.

Extra:

Then the news came, the baby, Meabh, it was always go go go, on the move, at home, never time to rest, just Meabh and the baby, and Victoria and him, and...

By the time Simon noticed, Fiadh was here, lying in his arms, little hands closed into fists, her small wrapped in a white blanket with anchors and fishes drawn on it...

And he looked up at his wife who stood beside Meabh, doting on her best friend and caressing her head, cooing at her that she did a good job, the girl a bit dozy from exhaustion from the recent breast feeding...

And then at the clock on the wall, marking 00:13 of the 19th...

And he felt his eyes begin to prickle, his jaw clenching under his surgical mask...

He looked back down at his niece again, little blind blue eyes, the same ones that used to belong to his best friend, staring up at him...

Maybe he didn't hate his birthday so much anymore.

for you @loveandplanet for making me sad ; and also @crashtestbunny sorry for this :)

[unrequitedloveletter]

Hi! Can I request a kenji x fem!reader where kenji is always confident and bold but with the reader he’s always nervous cause he likes her and she’s oblivious, plus a fluffy love confession. Thank you so much!!

Coffee- K.K x fem! reader

hi! I am SO SORRY for how late this is releasing--I had a really shitty august in terms of motivation and then the first day of september devolved into the worst day of the past few months very quickly, but I am determined to write all of my requests and give myself a bit of downtime before the fall event releases three fridays from now!

I did end up doing part of this in the headcanon format because it's just easier on me mentally right now, but I did turn the love confession into a fic because doing that in that way made sense to me where describing the lead up didn't, which I hope makes up for the fact that I chose to write it the way I did! I hope you enjoy and again, I am so sorry for the delay with this.

Fic type- this is just. there is so much fluff.

Warnings- hints at a coffee dependency, a mention of the reader constantly feeling the need to be productive even on days off (the reader says that they need to learn that days off can be used to rest, and says that it's not funny anymore) and a mention of Elton Johns book "Me" if that also counts.

okay, so!

Juliette notices it first

She sees how Kenji becomes around you and then she and Warner compare it to how he is with other people

there's a lot of "he's a dick when he's around everyone else," and "He likes her! That's really sweet! Oh, we should get them together."

Juliette Ferrars would be the ultimate wing woman and you cannot convince me otherwise

Meanwhile, every time someone points out something nice about you Kenjis entire attitude is like: "yeah she's pretty. like really pretty. like effortlessly pretty. and I love the sound of her voice. and the way that her eyes look in the sun. and what of it??"

and then he's like "am I falling in love?? is this what love is??" five or six weeks into the crush

Ten or eleven weeks and he's accepted it but has moved into the "she'll never like me back," stage.

Meanwhile, every damn time he smiles at you your heart starts racing and you just kind of freeze up a little, but you're at the same place he is--you don't think he likes you back and that he never could.

there's even a point where, standing next to you and able to sense your emotions, Warner just goes "hm. You and Kenji are looking at each other and feeling the same lovey-dovey feeling."

to be fair to you, you were a few glasses deep into the white wine and every time you looked at Kenji all you could focus on were the depths of his eyes. we're blaming the drunken haze for your obliviousness in this instance

There comes a point, as there always is with falling in love, where Kenji feels like he'll be single and forever alone unless he tells you how he feels, so he decides to do it.

Kenji finds you in the living room of your townhouse early on a Saturday morning, the townhouse having been a spot you'd coveted as it had belonged to a relative before things took off with the Resistance and everyone was still living within the sectors and under the rule of Aarons father. Juliette and Aaron had insisted you take it with the return of democracy and, selfishly, you had.

You were in a sweater that Kenji had forgotten he'd given to you at one point or another, a pair of sweatpants, and had a throw blanket draped loosely over your legs, a book in hand and the lamp on to allow yourself a bit of light to read.

"Hey," Kenji had greeted, the nerves kicking in before he'd had the chance to stop them. "Catching up on some reading, I see. What's the book?"

"A memoir by a guy who used to sing a lot?" You said, glancing at the cover again. "Elton John. His autobiography. It's a decent read so far, so I'll be sticking with it, which is nice. Loads of books were burned by the Reestablishment but I found this one in the physical library."

"The libraries are being reopened? That's incredible," Kenji said. "Also, how on earth can you be tired right now? It's barely seven in the morning and you're typically up with the sun as it is."

"I am allowed to be tired," you said defensively, throwing a throw pillow at Kenji and letting the book sit, somewhat forgotten in your lap.

"Did Juliette and Warner ask you to look after their dog yesterday?" Kenji asked, catching the pillow and throwing it back at you with a laugh.

"Gardening," you said. "I was gardening during the morning, and then Juliette and I took a walk that ended up being three fucking hours long, and then I offered to walk their dog. I need to learn that days off can be used to rest. It's not funny anymore."

Kenji laughed at you lightly, coming to sit next to you on the couch. "I have something to confess," he said.

"Do all of your confessing," you responded. "As long as you promise to make me coffee and give me a--strictly platonic, as Winston would grudgingly point out if he were here, while Brendan looked at me like I was an oblivious fool--forehead kiss."

Kenji laughed, wrapped an arm around you as you pressed your head against his shoulder.

"I'm in love with you," he said. "I am so in love with you, in fact, that every time I see you I become a bashful idiot, to use Warners words."

You grinned, part of yourself giving way to disbelief as you looked at him.

"And you came here, and you told me this at seven am?" You asked. "I mean, I love you too, Kenji, so much so that thinking of you while I'm meant to be working renders me nearly useless--seven in the morning? When I'm tired and I spent a solid fifteen seconds complaining about how yesterday was, when, aside from the foot pain from all of the walking, it was actually an amazing day?"

"Yep," Kenji said, popping the p with a shrug of his shoulders. "I love you and your complaints."

You grinned a bit more, let your eyes flutter closed as Kenji pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to make us coffee," Kenji said, his lips ghosting near your forehead. You decidedly didn't care about the coffee anymore--just wanted to be with him, but you didn't say it. On days like that one, Kenji was typically just as coffee reliant as you were.

You let Kenji go, opening your eyes and going back to your book as you realized that you were still grinning.

You found yourself unsure that you'd ever stop, but when you felt another kiss dropped to the back of your head and an "I love you," whispered near your ear, you found that it was something you didn't mind as long as Kenji was with you.

[miley1442111]

hii would love smth with sydney adamu x reader if ur still taking requests!! like literally anything just need more syd content haha

omg thank u for requesting sydney, there's like nowhere near enough stuff for her? like guys... she's amazing. anyways, I hope you enjoy, it's kind of short, so sorry about that :)

no-show

a/n: lowkey spoilers for season 2, episode 3- sundae, also I didn't really think of male! or fem! reader while writing so just imagine what you want :)

summary: sydney asks if you want to join her and carmen on some food tasting, how could you say no?

pairing: sydneyadamu x reader

warnings: general fluff, talk of parents dying, brief mention of lupus, brief mention of cancer, mention of crushes.

She was pretty. But… she was also technically your new boss. You, a new person on the waitstaff at The Bear, had been hired a month ago. For the past 4 days, you had been building the tables and chairs along with your new co-workers, they’re fine, all pretty normal people- nothing to write home about. But Sydney, your boss, she was amazing. She had been the one to orient you in the restaurant. She showed you where everything is and how everything works, but you were sure you’d forgotten all of it. You were too busy watching her.. You pushed those thoughts out of your head, for now, you just had to keep your head down, get to opening night. All anyone is focusing on is opening night. So, you keep working and finish the last table, when you notice Sydney standing and talking with Carmen. Carmen Berzatto was strange, in your opinion. He barely talked to her, yet she was his ‘business partner’? He refused to even send her a text when he basically told you all to start taking down walls more than a week ago, and she was rightfully upset. He walks away from her with a nod and you get up from under the table. She comes up behind you as you stretch your aching back. 

“Do you want to come with us? We’re just- our pallets are fucked and-” she starts to explain.

“Yes,” you say, probably too eagerly. 

“O-ok. Cool,” she smiles. “I’ll grab my stuff.”

You smile and follow her to the lockers. “So, where do you plan on going?”

“Just some places around, I know some people, Carm knows some people,” she shrugs and the nickname she has for him irks you slightly. There can’t be anything going on between them, right? 

“Will we wait for him?” You ask, pulling your jacket on.

“He’ll catch up,” she decides, leading out the back door and into the cold Chicago air. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A train ride, a short 10 minute walk, and a conversation with a waiter later, you sit across from Sydney, conversation flowing freely. You feel… comfortable with her. She’s awkward in an endearing way, kind in a way that's foreign to you, and so deeply interesting that you feel like you could talk to her forever. The food arrives, and it’s the best thing you’ve tasted in a while. Considering you’ve been living off of the same meal for the past three days (meal prepping is the only way you eat), this is like actual gold dust. Clearly your reaction doesn’t stay in your head, your eyes closing in satisfaction.

“Good right?” Sydney grins from across the table. 

All you can do is nod. And internally kick yourself for being so embarrassing. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen has been long forgotten. He was supposed to show, he didn’t, boo hoo. You don’t care. Sydney doesn’t care. Your day with Sydney has been nothing short of perfect. Good food, good company, and now, good ideas- on Sydney’s part, you were basically just here for the food and her. 

“So, what’s your favourite food?” Sydney asks, just on the walk back to The Bear. 

“Can I be honest?” You chuckle, a warm feeling within you shielding you from the cold. 

“Of course!” 

“When I was a kid, my mom made these nachos with like-just random cheeses on them, and then we’d dip them in this spicy sauce until our tongues would go numb,” you recounted fondly. “I forgot to ask for the recipe before she died.” Sydney’s face falls, and you can’t help but feel that you’ve ruined the moment, the day too, maybe. “S-sorry, I didn’t- it just slipped out-”

“It’s ok. My mom died too,” she explains slowly. “Lupus.”

“Cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiles softly as you both stop just outside the restaurant. 

“I was like 10, it happened a while ago-”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. 

“I’m sorry too,” you smile, the sound of blood rushing filling your ears. You want to kiss her. You want to kiss her so bad. So, you do.

You reach and hand out and cup her cheek, pulling her in to kiss you. She gasps at the sudden contact, but kisses back all the same. She tastes like the mint the last restaurant gave you both. Her arms wrap around your neck, a smile on her lips against yours. You pull away, opening your eyes. 

She looks beautiful, a smile on her perfect lips. The lips you just kissed. 

“Thank you for today,” you smile. 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” you chuckle.

She rolls her eyes and kisses you again.

Wow. What a good day. 

[delespresso]

DESERVING ━━ Antonio Dawson x fem!reader

author's note; this one has been in my drafts for a while and honestly i have mixed feelings about it. but oh well, i might as well just put it out lol enjoy <3

summary; antonio had only ever been casual with her, but called it quits a while ago. only to come back after a rough case, finally realising it wasn't so casual after all

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

Molly's wasn't as crowded that night. She sat at the bar, nursing a drink in her hand as she rested her head in her palm with her elbow on the bartop. After a long day of back-to-back surgeries at Med, all she needed was a drink to wind down.

For the past couple of months, that drink was with some company. Tonight, it went back to the usual routine.

She wasn't sure where any of it went wrong. She hardly even realized there was anything wrong, really. Maybe it just wasn't right.

She took a large swig of her drink at the thought. The only thing that kept her mind off him had been her patients. Now that she didn't have that, she zeroed back into him without wanting to.

He'd consumed her entirely in the short months they were together. She should've known better. Getting involved with a man recently divorced – what was she thinking?

It felt so good to just be wrapped up in someone after long, awful shifts. And it was a win-win situation. She wasn't the only one benefiting from it.

Refusing to sit at the bar any longer, she shot her drink down in one go and left some cash on the bar. Usually she'd be chatting with Hermann before she left. Not tonight.

She didn't want to drive after that. Maybe she'd only had about two glasses, but she didn't want to take any chances. So she walked. She'd take her car in the morning.

Her apartment was just down the block anyway. It hardly took her more than five minutes to get back there.

Fiddling through the keys in her hands, she turned down the hallway towards her door. Stopping short when she looked up, very nearly dropping her keys.

“Antonio?”

Her voice came out uncertain.

He turned instantly. His fist dropped, he was just about to knock on her door.

For a moment the man just stood there and looked at her. He put his hands back into the pockets of his coat, rocking on his heels slightly as he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Hearing his voice again seemed to sober her up suddenly – if she was even that tipsy in the first place. The last time they'd spoken to each other was three weeks ago. The time he hit the brakes on what they had.

“Hi,” she nodded.

Antonio hesitated. He dropped his gaze for a second, before shrugging lightly.

“Look, I uh–”

He met her gaze. She hadn't moved an inch. They were facing each other in the hallway of the apartment.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he admitted gently. “It's been a… rough day.”

She nodded slowly. It had been a rough day, for sure.

Bomb threats all over important locations in the city. Police stations, schools, hospitals – Chicago Med was the very last. They may have mostly been a hoax, but Intelligence didn't take it lightly.

Antonio's team was all over it. The second one of those bombs was real, dropped off at the park just within half a mile radius from Chicago Med – they went head first to find the perp. He ran with his team to investigate it all, while she was busy rushing the victims through surgery.

“It was,” she agreed. “It was rough.”

The keys tapped along her palm lightly as she looked at him. Neither of them seemed to be able to tear their gazes away.

“And how are you?” she then asked softly.

Antonio only stared at her. He looked tired. Like he always did after long cases like this one. These bomb hoaxes had been going on for weeks. It was only today that something truly happened.

And while they haven't found the perp, he took a small step back and let his team play their part as well.

“I've been better,” he replied.

She let out a slow breath. Holding the key in one hand, she gestured to her door lightly.

“Wanna come in?” she offered.

She wasn't sure why she did that. If it was even a good idea after everything.

After all, it was him who said they should stop. That it wasn't the right time for either of them. That they should probably work out their own careers first.

Antonio took a beat. His lips parted to speak as he looked at her, then he glanced at her door.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

She only stepped past him in response, unlocking her door and stepping in. Holding the door open to the side, she gestured for him to enter.

The place was just like he remembered. Although, he doubted much would change in merely three weeks. They ended up standing on two different sides of her kitchen counter, a bottle of beer in each of their hands.

Antonio glanced around the place, his fingers lightly tapping on his beer bottle.

“You finally got the heater to work,” he commented.

She'd been having an issue with her heater forever, it felt like. But now as he stood there, he realized it was warmer here despite the cold outside.

She hummed, nodding as she took a sip of her beer.

“I got a new one,” she replied. “Nothing lasts forever, right?”

Their eyes met. Something about what she said made them both pause and think. She didn't mean to imply anything, but she noticed what she did a second too late. Her eyes dropped and she took another sip of her beer, no longer knowing what to do with herself.

Antonio was just as bad. But he did know how he felt, at least.

“We were good together,” he spoke softly, breaking the sudden silence.

She paused. His words were like a wound in salt.

He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't be pushing after he was the one that had broken her. But he couldn't stop himself. Suddenly he was around the counter, beer bottle abandoned as his hand reached up to cup her cheek.

When she looked up at him it was with those same doe eyes he fell for. The ones that made his blood rush and heart pumping. The ones that felt like a breath of fresh air after being cooped up for so long.

“I messed up. And instead of fixing it, I made it worse,” he told her. “And I'm sorry. I don't say it as often as I should, but I'm telling you and I mean it. I'm sorry.”

The words hung heavy in the air for a moment as she simply stared up at him with her soft, tender eyes. There was a clear hurt still in them and it made his heart clench.

“I don't deserve you. I really don't. But God if you let me, I'm willing to put in the work. To be the man deserving of you. I just… I just need your word. And your time of day.”

When he continued, she didn't even notice the way her eyes watered. This was the most vulnerable this man had ever been with her. Her heart was thundering as she realised she never got over him. And she knows she never will.

She didn't say a word. She didn't give him an answer, not verbally. Instead, her hands reached up for his jacket to tug him down gently so their lips could meet.

And when she kissed him it was with everything she had. It wasn't lustful or hungry. It was pure love and desire. A yearning that never once faded.

When he kissed her back, she knew then. It was undeniable — she was his. And he was undoubtedly hers.

liked this tale? be a member and buy me some coffee!

[jaminjims]

「TO MAKE YOU PROUD」

anon request: Hi can you do one but it's not in any of your prompts, but its an eight female member ot7 of course it better if its an ot7 , so can you do where the female reader decided to take online classes but the guys dont know and when its time for her to graduate she tells the boys that theyre going somewhere but doesn't tell them where but when they get there it turns out its her graduation day. Thank you, i just found your account and i love the way you write 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

pairing: bts x f!reader (platonic)

genre: crack!!!, fluff, a tiny bit of angst

warnings: university LOL

words: 2.8k

never let it be said that you didn't like being an idol.

you love how you bring smiles to fans and how your parents talk about you with pride, you especially love the second family you found within your members

you love bts, perhaps more than anything else

although you receive a great amount of love from those around you, the anxiety to live up to those standards accompanies you like a shadow

that brings you to here: your computer light illuminating your face and graham cracker crust on your lips at an hour you should definitely not be up at, staring at one tiny little button that could change your life (you like being dramatic)

now, you have performed on more stages than you can count; given plenty of interviews and have embarrassed yourself a multitude of times in front of millions of people

nothing compares to the nerves you feel as your cursor hovers over the tiny blue button that glares back at you mockingly

'ENROLL'

who knew that one word could be so scary?

never let it be said that you didn't like making people proud, either.

you hit the button and slam your laptop closed, trying not to wake up your groupmates as you muffle a scream into your pillow

you really should've slept like namjoon told you to hours ago

~*~

you were being weird, and the maknaes could practically smell it

on one occasion they actually did. you smelled like you hadn't taken a shower in four days and you definitely looked like it too. was the extended break the company had given bts getting to you?

on your side, you were determined to keep the college classes you signed up for in the degen hours a secret, but damn. your professors made it really hard when they all decided to collectively assign three papers and a test at once

it had been roughly a month since they've started, and you wanted to die

idol training? a piece of cake compared to whatever fresh hell your professors conjured up. did they like torturing you?

what they said in their comments on your past assignments pointed to a boldly printed, neon colored: 'YES'

as you started to drink your fourth coffee of the day, trying to stay coherent enough even though it was only one pm in the afternoon, the maknaes decided to confront you about... whatever has happening to you

jungkook slid inconspicuously into the seat next to you at the dining table and blinked at you with those damn doe eyes

"so... whatcha up too?"

you almost snort your coffee in his face.

jimin, taehyung, and jungkook all look at each other worriedly

"do you need to see a therapist y/n? we know being on break for the first time in a while can be hard, but you really don't look too good." jimin says like the sweetheart he is

before you can reply, a ding from your phone grabs your attention and you look at it only to see the new gut-wrenching comment your writing teacher made on your 'side-effects of the fame of idol life' paper

'i like the enthusiasm, but you almost seem to be invested to the point of being pushy. stop that.'

you whine and slowly lower your head to the table in a dull 'thump'

teahyung sends a text to the group therapist

~*~

it has been about six months since you have started to take online classes, and you like to think that you have gotten marginally better at covering up the lack of sleep and the effect the comments your professors (which honestly, they must be out to get you personally) have on you

your schedule had been resuming as normal starting a few weeks ago and you already missed the blessed days of nothing to worry about except the brutality of college

as you go to put on concealer, you find the bottle suspiciously empty. have the maknaes used your makeup again? (you refuse to believe that you had used the whole bottle that you had only bought two weeks ago)

as you slink into yoongi's room, looking just as tired as you feel, to steal some of his makeup (which will eventually send him into stealing jin's and then from jin to jimin and so on until namjoon has enough and forces you all to get your shit together), he is typing something on his phone with his back to you

"yoongi-ah, i need to makeup"

then he turns around and startles because why do you look like that

yes, why indeed

"you look terrible"

you stare blankly at him and then turn on your heels, "ok, thank you. bye."

he sighs at the ever-persistent pain-in-his-ass that is you and turns you around, genuine worry in his eyes; asking silent questions and giving soft reassurances in case there was anything you needed to get off your chest

you almost tear up because how did you become so lucky

you haven't had your first coffee yet and you get sensitive and squishy when you're tired

once again, you question why you decided to put yourself through this

why do people pay to go through a personalized hell of their own making?

anyways

apparently, you get all broody without sleep as well

you realize you have been staring at yoongi for a few minutes without saying anything, looking like you have no thoughts, head empty

hoseok bursts into the room with all the decorum of a cracked-up butterfly and announces that breakfast is ready

he looks at you and does a double take

"woah."

your forehead meets your palm

yoongi sighs and drags hobi out of the room, "two shots of expresso?"

"add three" you say miserably

another therapist visit you have earned, you realize, as you get the notification that yoongi added it to your calendar

~*~

you skip into dance practice with a beaming smile on your face and practically throw yourself onto hoseok, and because he's hoseok he catches you and twirls you around

for the first time since starting your courses, your excited demeanor isn't caused by enough expresso to kill a small hippo

it's your one-year anniversary! you are halfway there to your degree!

you thank the god that is your mother for forcing you to take all those fancy advanced classes when you were in high school

the urge to actually scream "yippee!" like a cartoon character is surprisingly overwhelming and who are you to deny yourself?

"yippee!"

and because the guys are endlessly supportive, they chime into whatever you're celebrating without even knowing what the hell they are congratulating you for

they have long since gotten used to your strange habits and have learned to play along

i mean, what the hell, right? supporting you in whatever crazed manic episode that has been ongoing for the past 12 months is the least they can do for you

(your therapist said to be supportive)

god decided to give you a call and you answer it without hesitation while still being awkwardly held up by hobi. "hi, mom"

you pat his back to let you down, give him a fist bump, and then leave the room exactly like you came in it

"did she have her mom's contact as god?"

~*~

you, like the past year and half, feel like crying.

it's about that time when you have to start your senior project as an 'accelerated student'

whatever that means

you basically have to come up with a thesis and write a paper on it pertaining to your major, in which usually you would get two years to do

like an idiot, you have six months because you didn't start it when you first started classes

(you would like to see someone else try to balance college and being a world-wide famous idol, okay?)

so, here you are at one am, holding a bottle of apple juice to sooth your inner child, and some flavor blasted goldfish, trying not to cry your eyes out over the blank document that you have been staring at for over ten minutes

you take a deep breath, put your apple juice down, rub you hands together, smack your face, and then force yourself to write down something, anything

'music'

that's how far you get before your phone rings, and because luck is never on your side, you see namjoon's contact who is probably going to tell you to go to bed for the third time

you answer and before he even says anything, your eye's tear up

"joonie..." you whisper, sounding all too much like the sleep deprived child you are

because he is essentially your father, he picks up on it immediately

"y/n-ah," he sighs, because this has become a common occurrence, "what do you need help with?"

"everything," you blubber miserably

so, namjoon stays on the phone with you until four am (even though he is literally down the hall, but he is 'too cozy to move'), helping you come up with a draft thesis statement and introduction you were supposed to turn into your teacher a year ago, and because he is the best person ever! (you change that to his contact) he doesn't ask why you need help writing a thesis, as they know you won't tell them what you've been doing

you both walk into the kitchen the next morning looking, and feeling, like sacks of shit

"uhm." is the eloquent response jimin gives to the look the both of you have on your faces

jin wordlessly hands you both coffee with too much expresso and kisses your foreheads because he is amazing and he hopes it will hold you two together until at least the meeting with the staff is over

you and namjoon's phones go off with a ding! at the same time, and you both have matching therapy appointments

yay! the lunacy is spreading!

~*~

you are in the home stretch

you can smell it, feel it, even fucking taste it

and as you hover over the finally for-the-love-of-god-get-this-paper-out-of-my-fucking-face-thesis submit button, you countdown to yourself like an astronaut about to take off

"three, two, one..." you take a deep breathe, "lift off!" you hit the button

as soon as it says upload complete, you cry tears of joy

victory has never tasted so fucking sweet in your life (although maybe that was the cosmic brownie you had a few minutes ago)

~*~

within the next week, you talk to management about letting the boys attend your graduation ceremony and of course management says yes (they knew you were taking classes, even though you didn't tell them. talk about scary corporate companies knowing your every move)

and when the day arrives when you finally get your diploma, you are more nervous than you've been since your debut

the boys are a big reason why you've decided to pursue your education, and even if they didn't know it, you wouldn't have been able to make it without them

you aren't one to be sentimental, but you kinda want to cry at just how much you feel

you made it. achieved one of your dreams, not only for you, but for them.

you take a deep breath and you let the sense of fulfillment take over your heart and you let it sit there

your phone goes off, and it's the management telling you that the graduation event is ready, and that in kahoots with the online school you attended, they are ready to have the ceremony

"ok boys! time to roll out!" you scream, even though they have all sitting in the living room ready for thirty minutes because you made sure they would be ready by the time you had to go

"y/n, can you please tell us where we are going?" teahyung asks as he links arms with you

"nope!" you chirp, and because you are mean you add, "it's a surprise!"

jungkook comes up to link his other arm in yours, "does this have anything to with how you've been acting for a while?"

damn, he really is the golden maknae

you are suspiciously silent and everyone is suddenly weary of where you are taking them

you weren't going to murder them in a fit of hysteria, right?

but looking at your smiling and blushing face, they all can't help but smile with you and trust

the ride to the venue is only about fifteen minutes and you can't help but be excited and talk animatedly with your members

you almost spill the beans about where you're going but manage to not give too much away (barely, you kind of think the franticness is due to caffeine withdrawal)

before you know it, the eight of you are pulling up into the parking lot and the others look out with perplexed frowns on their faces

you look at them with a smile, "you trust me, yeah?"

they look to you and grin, "always."

you all walk in and when you get inside the venue hallways, you split from the group and manager sejin (just barely) corrals the boys forward without you

you run to get ready and put on your cap and gown, and you have to take another deep breath when you look at yourself in the mirror, because wow. if you knew a graduation gown would look this good you would have graduated college a long time ago

(you only just manage to keep the tears from ruining your makeup)

when the boys enter into a private room and see all of the other people sitting down in the stadium seats, their first thought is that you are holding some sort of surprise concert or something. they honestly don't have any idea what you are going to do, and they joke about how you are going to perform a magic show or some other equally ludicrous event

the lights dim and all of their attention is on the empty chairs sitting in the middle of the auditorium, and then all of a sudden a spotlight shines onto the graduates who walk in from the side entrance

speakers start to blast the school anthem (not that they know that) as the graduates make their way to their seats and boys gasp when they see you on the big screen

"is that-?"

"no fucking way."

"what is she doing?"

because there you are, flashing a peace sign and sticking your tongue out to the camera man who's broadcasting it to the big screen, walking to your designated chair

you will always and forever be a dork

they all laugh incredulously and can't help but have to sit down in shock

none of them can speak as the principal of the school introduces the class of 2023 graduates. he goes through what the school stands for and blah blah blah

when the time finally comes where you have to line up and get your diploma's, namjoon, hoseok, seokjin, and jungkook are crying, yoongi hides his smile behind his hands, and teahyung and jimin has ceased to function as they watch on, barely able to breathe

they all hold their breath as you finally walk up on to the stage and shake the principals hand

"y/n l/n, 2023 graduate with a degree in the arts of music writing and production"

the boys have never cheered so loudly in their life, and you swore you could hear them from your spot up on stage

you smile so big and wide and take a second to stand on the stage and bow, and the boys who weren't crying before definitely are now

its all a blur as you make it off of the stage and ushered into the private room the boys are in. you don't even make it three steps in before you are surrounded on all sides

"i can't believe you did this."

"y/n, you're amazing."

"i knew you weren't just going crazy."

there are voices all around you. some are laughing, some are praising you, all are crying

jin pulls you from the group in a hug that lifts your feet off the floor, "is this why you manhandled me into making you so much food the last few days?"

you laugh and whip at your eyes, "yeah, i wanted to have a good dinner when we got home" he sets you down and pulls you into his side with an arm around your shoulder

"i am so, so proud of you." he whispers into your hair

taehyung comes up on your other side and hugs you around the waist, "we all are"

your eyes tear up and before you know it you are wailing like a baby again

"i love you guys more than anything in the world," you whine out, a blubbering mess

they all smile and make fun of you, and there is nothing that can beat the feeling that wells up in your chest

never let it be said you don't like making people proud

later, a horrendously ugly photo of you crying with the guys all around you is uploaded to all of your social medias and your face is made into a meme, but, hey, you made it out alive, and that's all that mattered

(even if you did have to see a therapist)

[end]

a/n: what better way to jumpscare ya'll with an update other than with crack? but in all seriousness, i am so so so sorry this was so late anon! you've waited literal years, and i would write an ao3-usque excuse but i don't even deserve it ;( as always, i hope you guys have an amazing week, and i love you bunches (please imagine that in a skrunkly old grandma voice) ♡♡♡

masterlist!

request something! (pls, for the love of everything holy, check the request status first!)

[cryinginmelodrama]

another december. another year coming to an end. another version of me fading away as these last days of the year melt in the dusky foggy sky. a new me taking shape in the misty mornings. it is an extraordinary thing how humans are ever-evolving. we change a little with every new sunrise, every new sunset, with every new friend and every new lover. what are we if not the collective response to the places we've been and the people we have met? I often wonder who would i be if there wasn't any other person in my life. who am I without being a daughter, a sister, a friend, a lover? who am I when it's three in the morning and the time seems to have come to a halt, when melodrama is playing faintly through my speakers and i am staring at my ceiling? who am i when i am alone watching the sunset wishing i could catch a little sunlight in my hands and store it away so that I'll never have to say goodbye to the sun? who am i when i am watching my dog sleep in the backyard and have the sudden intense urge to cry? like there's a dam of emotions in my heart that is just waiting to burst open. who am i when i see the carved names of two lovers on the walls of an old building feeling like if i could just concentrate enough I'll hear the laughter of those two people madly in love? who am i when i am surrounded by a crowd but have this unrelenting thought that i can't figure out what my purpose in life is and want to dissolve into nothingness?

i believe it's almost impossible to know who you're on your own. my likes, dislikes, feelings, emotions all seem to be polluted with the essence of other people in my life. nothing that i feel seems to be purely of my own. but then in some ways its a comfort as i get to carry a part of the people i love within me. i don't have to look for them too hard they're always around. but i still crave to understand myself on some level. i feel an intense need to know the me detached from everyone else in my life. for the past few years self love hasn't been something that came naturally to me. i faintly remember a time when this heart used to be full of love not just for others but for my own self too. a time when my mind didn't know these hundreds of self critiquing remarks. when I didn't try to find fault in myself as i stared in the mirror every morning. when i didn't feel the need to speak positive affirmations in order to be a little kinder to myself. today it all seems like a distant memory. almost dreamlike. something that was probably there but i can no longer be sure of. but as i grow up and years pass i am trying to rebuild this broken sense of self. to learn a kind word or two for when i need them. to become the person i always dreamt to be. these past twelve months have passed away in a haze. but then there were days where i could swear that time had stopped moving ahead just to prolong my misery. we're made to believe that you've to gain from every emotional experience. to learn from them. to intellectualise them. but i think the most important thing that this year has taught me is that it's not necessary to make every experience a learning curve. it's okay to do things and go places and be with people just because they give you happiness. or maybe at times a much needed distraction. it's alright to not come out stronger every time you break apart. it's okay to just heal yourself. it's alright to not run your way through life. it's alright to just stroll through it. the only thing that really matters is how you feel about yourself. how you treat yourself. and if you're happy with yourself. so as this year passes by us i feel the need to make a promise to myself. a promise to keep living life on my own pace. to not make everything an intellectual experience. to be in moments. to feel love. to feel heartbreak. and to give my love to myself before anyone else. i know its not going to be an easy journey ahead, it never is. but i know I'll be alright as its just the end of another year, the best ones of which are still ahead of me.

[ingravinoveritas]

Finding out that Georgia will be in Michael’s new project while his “girlfriend” ie; baby mama has been retweeting and promoting the show before it can even come out and isn’t in it…… OOF. I guess Michael decided that since this will be his own personal project he wants Anna nowhere near this one, especially since he can make the decision not to put her in it. Also hope David will end up in it alongside Michael where they both act and work together again

(Grouping all of these Anons together since there is a common theme.)

So, for those who might've missed it, one of the recent GO 2 promo interviews was with Michael by himself, and in it, he talked about his directorial debut project, The Way, and mentioned that Georgia makes an appearance:

To your question, @whimhabit, this is the first time there has been any mention of Georgia in the film, at least as far as I'm aware. That would explain those comments in her interviews, though, as well as this photo that she posted on Instagram of her on the way to Wales last month:

Regarding @phantomstars24's comments, though, I don't know that we can definitively say that AL isn't in The Way, but that makes it look even stranger that Michael didn't say anything to that effect, because he could have (and has had no compunction about mentioning her being in his projects--such as LTTC--in the past). Even if things about the production were under wraps previously (which could be why Georgia couldn't say anything/why AL hasn't said anything if she does have a part), that clearly isn't the case now since Michael did mention that Georgia is in it. But that also raises the question of why Michael would cast his lover's David's wife in the show, but not his own partner...

On top of all this, Michael also dropped another interesting tidbit in one of the GO 2 promo interviews the other day, which is that apparently his parents were in the Job sequence, but their part was cut from it. So in the course of all the GO 2 interviews, there have been mentions of multiple family members--Peter Davison and Ty, Georgia, and Michael's parents--but not AL. At this point, the omission is pretty glaring, and certainly raises some questions.

Which then leads us to AL's Insta story from last week, as well as a comment she wrote on Twitter, both of which seemed to barely receive any notice in the fandom:

It's hard to know where to begin, but the fact that this came within the space of a day and in the midst of all the GO 2 interviews really feels like a grab for attention (which I imagine is now harder to obtain, since the SAG strike means none of the actors can promote it). But this text continues the pattern of 1) Not having Michael's name on it, for some reason; and 2) Her seemingly trying to prove something about their relationship while achieving the opposite. Of course, plenty of texts between couples can be humdrum or about everyday events, but the takeaway here is that this could've just as easily been an exchange between a homeowner and a house-sitter. Why show the three missed calls? To make it seem like he was urgently calling her (even though she ignored them all)? And then as Anon #1 mentioned, for the denouement to be him asking if the gate was closed was entirely anticlimactic.

...And then there's the comment on Twitter. Again, out of nowhere, and her reply (or parts of it) were so thoroughly weird and unnecessary. I have more thoughts to share that involve spoilers for GO 2, so I will put the rest of my response under a cut. Read at your own discretion:

The mention of his lips and kissing felt so deliberate as to be ridiculous. Rather than using the reply to praise him as an actor or his work, it seemed entirely self-serving, and specifically engineered to remind us that she has kissed Michael. (Albeit in the creepiest way possible, because it also makes it sound like she targeted him...)

I just can't help thinking that if his and AL's relationship is going great and everything is peachy keen (which actually rhymes with Michael Sheen), then why does she need to remind the world that she's kissed him? Also, we now know that David definitely has, so it makes one wonder if she feels threatened by that and by what we're going to see on screen in GO season 2.

Which brings me to another point, which is the marked difference between that Twitter response and everything we've seen in the GO 2 promo interviews. Michael and David have already been giving off "They totally kissed" energy for the last four years, but we now know that is the case for sure (and likely not just in the show). Yet in the interviews, David is completely playing it coy (largely due to not wanting to give away spoilers, of course)...but that same energy is still coming through, even without them saying anything. And I think it's coming through not just for those of us who already know about the leak, but for those who don't know about it, too. All without Michael or David ever once saying the word kiss.

So those are my thoughts on these recent developments. The interviews with Michael and David have been full of so many shippy/cute moments, but also lots of very interesting little blink-and-you'll-miss it pieces of info, so I'm glad we got to discuss those as well. Thank you all for writing in! x