#turns out my mom and grandma also have it and just never went to a doctor about it

[nexus-nebulae]

another childhood bucket list item obtained: i finally have a snuggie

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

If you are hungry and need to shower, and you have CFS and/or inappropriate sinus tachycardia, always prioritize food over clean. In addition, do not sit down on the shower floor for a little break, that is the devil speaking, you will momentarily lose vision when you stand up causing you to feel even more faint than before. I will not be following my own advice and I will be almost passing out in the shower again in the near future

[uyuforu]

Uyu's Astrological Observations III

₊˚⊹♡ It's so easy to recognize Aquarius placements on instagram, just look at James Deen's Instagram. You will instantly understand why.

₊˚⊹♡ I realized that Saturn in 7H Solar Return Chart is also about limits in relationships, and in this case you could find it hard to find someone else than your crush that year for example. Or your ex. No one seems better. If you are in a relationship, you could find that you are literally only interested in them. Which is a good thing!

₊˚⊹♡ Vertex in 7H in a Solar Return can be a sign of meeting someone that will become very important in your life.

₊˚⊹♡ The more I see people's SR Charts, the more I see many people of different age getting married between 2026-2028. (why?)

₊˚⊹♡ My Juno is in Scorpio 2H 26° (Taurus house & degree), my FS's Juno is also in Scorpio, and he is Taurus rising. His Juno is also in 2H and 2° (both Taurus placements). My Groom is in my 10H, and my FS's Groom falls in his 10H too. My FS's Briede is in Gemini, and my Briede is in my 3H. It also conjuncts my Moon.

₊˚⊹♡ Scorpio placements NEVER forget, and they can hold grudges forever. My grandma has a Scorpio stellium, she has been deceived by a friend when she was a child, and decided to NEVER again trust people too much. She never got a best friend because it.

₊˚⊹♡ The moon persona chart can really tell you about stuff you never realized or stuff you never wanted to accept about yourself.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon/ Cancer/ or Moon influences over the 7H= marrying someone younger than you, or marrying at a young age

₊˚⊹♡ Some people's Juno and Groom/ Briede happen to be the same person, but not for everyone. Juno represents your ideal partner, it has more of a spiritual link and destiny vibe. Some people marry someone they don't have any soul attachment to.

₊˚⊹♡ Saturn/ Capricorn/ or Saturn influences over the 7H= marrying someone older than you, or marrying when you are older.

₊˚⊹♡ Men attracted to women often have their Briede PC looking identical to their wife's Natal Chart.

₊˚⊹♡ My Parents had Vertex in the 5H Composite, and they had a baby (me)

₊˚⊹♡ But they also had Briede and Groom in 3H, they were indeed engaged but never married. And their 7H is empty.

₊˚⊹♡ My step mother's sun also fall in their 9H, conjuncting Chiron. My dad left my mom for her.

₊˚⊹♡ If you want to see if it's gonna work out with someone, don't only check basic synastry, composite, etc. But also Persona Chart synastry! For example, check Boda PC Synastry, and see if your weddings are "the same".

₊˚⊹♡ Gemini Sun on Boda Persona Chart could indicate having two weddings (just a theory)

₊˚⊹♡ In my DSC Persona Chart, my FS's Natal sun fall in the 7H in that PC. My DSC PC's Juno is in the 7H too, and so also conjuncting his Natal Sun.

₊˚⊹♡ Let's talk about the Union PC, it's not something very known.

₊˚⊹♡ Uranus in my Union PC is in 9H in Aquarius, and I met my FS online first and then in a foreign country where technology is pretty advanced. It was also a sudden meeting!

₊˚⊹♡ The rising of my Union PC is Gemini 22°, and when I met my FS, our meeting was very organized, and I didn't know if it was a date or not, so I was a bit cold and detached. But we met in a foreign country, and I was speaking in a foreign language (English).

₊˚⊹♡ Groom in my Union PC is in Leo 25° (Aries), and my FS was flirty, and very showing off when we met. It's also in 3H, he was a true rizz. Also conjuncting Venus, he REALLY wanted to seduce me. He went hard, it was so obvious lmao.

₊˚⊹♡ This could also explain why my Briede in this PC is in Capricorn, and I was cold and detached lol. His rizz was a turn off.

₊˚⊹♡ Speaking of synastry in Union PC, my Sun there is in Virgo, and in my FS Union PC, Briede is in Virgo. In his Union PC, his Sun is in Leo, and in my Union PC, Groom is in Leo.

₊˚⊹♡ My FS's rising in Union PC is the same as his NC, and Cancer is over the 4H. We met in his homeland, where he was born.

₊˚⊹♡ Also, his Natal North Node conjunct his North Node in Union PC, meaning the meeting with his FS is part of his destiny.

₊˚⊹♡ Our Union also conjunct each other in Union PC Synastry.

₊˚⊹♡ My Briede in Union PC falls in his 11H, and his Groom in Union PC falls in my 11H. We met online first.

₊˚⊹♡ My father had a pretty intense and sometimes toxic relationship with his ex-wife, my step mother, and her sun was in his 8H, conjuncting Chrion... 😬

₊˚⊹♡ My father also has Part of Fortune in the 9H and it conjuncts his MC. He travels for work.

₊˚⊹♡ My father had 3 children: my sun falls in his 12H and he was an absent father figure in my life. My brother's sun falls in his 3H, and they tell the same joke, have the same way to talk. They have a lot in common when it comes to topics to discuss. And my sisters's sun fall in his 5H, she is the favorite child.

₊˚⊹♡ My Sun conjunct my mother's Ceres, and she is very protective of me.

₊˚⊹♡ I noticed a lot of people have North Node retrogrades. It usually means they think they are going to struggle to meet their destiny. For example: my FS has scorpio 7H North Node. And he has this thought that he will never marry.

₊˚⊹♡ I don't know much about Astrocartography, but I have been studying it a little recently. I realized that my Sun DC line and North Node DC line falls on the place I met my FS ;-;

₊˚⊹♡ I also checked my FS' Astrocartography and he got his North Node DC on the place we met lol.

₊˚⊹♡ I was Scorpio rising in my SRC of the year a lot of guys wanted to be intimate with me.

₊˚⊹♡ This year SRC I am Leo rising, and I met a lot of guys who happens to have crush on me. It's insane, I feel popular ;-;

₊˚⊹♡ Im not a big fan of Moon conjunct Sun in Synastry, but because it either the best or worst relationship ever. I realized every people who have my moon sign as their sun, we never get along, they hate me while we never truly talked. But, people who have my sun sign as their moon actually annoy me lmao? I guess the sun sign feels threaten by the moon sign embodying their energy?

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[roboticchibitan]

I remember when same sex marriage was legized in my state (3 years before obergefel vs Hodges which legalized it nationwide). It won by a very narrow margin.

People who had taken care of me when I was young, people who were like second parents to me, (along with half the other people I knew) were saying it was the end times because I could now get married. And I couldn't help but wonder... would those people have protected me, cared for me, let me play with their children, if they had known I would grow up to be queer?

I came out in 2011. I was lucky. My parents were accepting. My mom was clearly uncomfortable at first but she made it clear she loved me no matter what.

Except.

My dad didn't care if I was queer and assured me that didn't mean there was anything wrong with me (in a speech I didn't need to hear but I think he needed to say). But he still said "that's gay" and "that's faggy" anytime my little brother showed vulnerability.

And I was a lucky one. My father used homophobic slurs around me regularly. He turned the word gay into a slur with his homophobic mouth. And I was a lucky one.

When I came out publicly, my grandmother stopped speaking to me for a while. I'm lucky that she changed her mind. I'm lucky that my grandparents let me bring my girlfriend with me when I went to visit them in October. October of 2022 and I still consider myself lucky that my grandparents let my queer partner into their house. My other grandma likewise visited with us, and was polite and friendly, but she still refused to call my gf anything other than "your friend." Still lucky. Incredibly lucky.

People don't understand just how bad things were as much as ten years ago. When I came out at school, I was lucky. No one bullied me. No one shoved me into lockers or called me slurs. They all just stopped talking to me. I became invisible. I went to a small school. I was the only person who was out. Exactly one person talked to me the rest of the year. And I was a lucky one.

When I was in middle and highschool, the go to insult was "that's gay." I heard it constantly. Every day. Sometimes people said it to me to insult me, long before I even knew I was queer.

I was lucky because the worst that happened to me was social isolation and people using slurs around me or turning my identity into a slur. No one called ME faggy. No one beat me up behind the school bleachers. I was incredibly lucky.

I have experienced the word "gay" used as a slur far more than I ever heard the word "queer" used as a slur. Young "queer is a slur and only a slur" people need to know the world you live in is not the world the rest of us live in. Why is "queer" a slur but "gay" isn't? My homophobic father thought the word "gay" conveyed just as much offense and disgust as the word "faggot." So why is queer the horrible word that can never be reclaimed but people say "that's gay" as a compliment now? The loneliest I have ever felt was in a room full of teenagers who thought my identity was the height of insults. So why is gay fine but queer isn't?

I am a fat butch queer and I do not hide that. My shoes have a pride flag on them. I have a masculine haircut and wear men's clothes. I look queer.

And I am afraid. I dress like this anyway, because I want other queer folks to know I am a safe person. I dress how I do partially because I like it but also partially so any queer person in the room, no matter now closeted, can see me and feel a little bit safer. Because I will protect other queer people with my life if need be.

Because I am openly and visibly queer and live in a world where being queer can get you killed. Because it can. Gay bashings still happen. The alt right are getting bolder in their violence, and that includes homophobic/transphobic violence. There are organizations in the US that are actively pushing to make homosexuality punishable by death in Africa. They know they could never accomplish that here. But they would if they could. People want us dead.

Young people need to understand that. And they need to understand that the people who did the most work to free us from criminalization were queer. They identified as queer. And they weren't the perfect law abiding queers toeing the line of what's acceptible. Because being queer itself was illegal. You could end up on the sex offender registry for being gay. In fact, there are queer people who are STILL registered as sex offenders just because they were queer in 2001. Pride wasn't a permitted parade with wells Fargo floats. It was angry queers illegally marching down the streets, screaming "We're here. We're queer. Get used to it."

Being openly queer is a radical act. It is still a radical act.

I did not live through Windsor vs the united states, the referendum 74 debate, my father punishing my brother for being human with homophobic slurs, and the pearl clutching fearmongering about "the gay agenda" (that was a go to phrase for 2012 homophobes) for some LGBT kid to come at me with TERF bullshit they got off tiktok about how my identity is a slur and I'm a horrible person for using it.

I was a lucky one and I'm still saying "no, absolutely not" to this bullshit.

Queer is more inclusive. Queer accounts for any possible fluidity because people change. Identities change. Queer is there for people who know they're Something Different but are not sure of the details yet. Queer is intentionally vague. When you're young you want everyone to know exactly who you are but as you get older you realize actually my identity is none of your business. In fact, sometimes when you tell someone your identity, you're handing them a bludgeon for them to hurt you with.

If you have trans classmates, you do not understand the world the rest of us grew up in. Trans people were not a public topic. They were not even acknowledged as existing by most people. I didn't know what being trans was until I was like 17. I'm nonbinary now and consider myself trans 10 years later.

And I didn't even have it that bad. But you know what? It still sucked and it was still hard and I can't imagine what it was like to grow up a decade before I did. I had it easy compared to most people.

If you can jokingly say "that's gay" when someone expresses queer love, then you can fucking handle people using the word queer as their identity.

The infighting and policing each other has to stop. You're oppressing queer people with this bullshit. It does not matter what words queer people use to describe themselves when there are people actively killing us. What are you doing? For fucks sake look at the bigger picture. Direct all that rage at our oppressors and the people who mean us harm. Queer people and he/him lesbians and bi lesbians and people who use neo pronouns and whoever else is the discourse of the day do not deserve this kind of treatment. Punch a homophobe and maybe you'll feel better.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 8

Part 8: Art woke up with his head in her neck and a hand on her chest, starting to think that maybe this is how he would always wake up if she were next to him. He managed to detach himself without waking Liana and took advantage of these minutes to look at her a bit.

His head ached from all the alcohol, and for a moment he wondered if everything that happened last night had really happened. But she was wearing his shirt and sleeping in his bed, so apparently, it had. This made him smile and get out of bed. He put on a pair of sweatpants and went downstairs to the kitchen. He made two cups of coffee and put a box of painkillers in his pocket. "Good morning," he heard his mother and smiled automatically. "Hey, Mom," he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "How was your evening?" she asked, and he updated her that it was okay, without giving too many explanations. While she was moving towards the living room, turning her back to him, she said, "Tell Liana she's welcome to come down for breakfast." Art stopped, feeling himself blush and realizing that she had heard them last night. Him and Liana. Liana, whom she had known since the day she was born. Liana, the daughter of her best friend. His mother had heard her moaning in her son's bed. "What..." he mumbled, not knowing what to do. "The coffee, it's for Liana, right?" His mother turned back to him, amused by the whole situation. "Oh, relax, Art, it was just a matter of time, and Liana is always welcome to eat with us. Don't chase her out the back door," she winked at him and concluded the conversation. His heart was beating so fast he didn't know what to do. She would surely tell Liana's parents, and then Liana would never let him touch her again out of embarrassment. He placed the cups on the counter and followed her into the living room. "You can't tell Sarah," he stated. He was terrified at the thought of their parents sitting one evening and just talking about his and Liana's sex life as if it were a legitimate dinner table conversation. "Art, what I do or do not tell Sarah, my best friend, the woman who also raised you when you think about it, is my business," she was still speaking with complete nonchalance. "Mom, I'm begging you. Don't tell her. Does Dad know too? Do I need to ask him as well?" he tried to understand how deep the damage control he needed to do was. "You weren't exactly quiet when you broke the vase Grandma gave us last Christmas," his mom looked at him with a sharp look. Art tried to understand what she was talking about and vaguely remembered how they had come in, and he had bumped into something, causing both him and Liana to choke with laughter. "Shit. God. I'll buy you a new vase. I promise." He smiled a toothy smile. One that was his mother's weak spot. "Mom, please. Don't tell them." He saw on her face that she was about to relent. "It's very new, and we're still trying to figure out what we're doing," Art told her and sighed. "How new?" she asked, surprised. What she and her husband heard last night (unfortunately for them) did not sound like the beginning of something. "Very. I'm pretty sure it's new from yesterday..." his hand went over his neck for a second. He was nervous. "I can't have our parents talking about this before we've talked about it. Please, Mom, just pretend you didn't hear anything." He pleaded, and the woman in front of him nodded. "Okay," she rolled her eyes, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. She saw her son stand up with a smile and head toward the kitchen. "Art," she made him turn around, "don't hurt her, okay?" she said, looking at him sharply. "Of course not, it's Liana." He had no choice but to nod. He didn't think there was a scenario where he was the one hurting Liana and not the other way around. Liana woke up in an empty room, taking a second to remember that this was Art Donaldson's room. Her heart beat uncontrollably fast as she recalled all the things she did last night with Art. Annoying Art who used to wipe snot on her when they were four. Art who would change the channel every time she wanted to watch 'The Lion King' at five. Art who, if she closed her eyes, she would see woven into every significant memory she had of this life.

She got up slowly, adjusting to the slight dizziness that hit her, and walked to the bathroom, brushing her teeth with the spare brush she found there yesterday and washing her face. What if he didn't want to talk about it? What if he decided there was nothing to talk about? What if it was all in her head? She heard the door to the room open and saw him come in with two cups of what she could imagine were coffee. "My hero," she blurted and snatched one of them from his hand, causing him to chuckle while she blushed from her own choice of words. Art took a sip while examining her. She was still wearing his shirt, and her hair was messy. She did everything to avoid looking at him. "Can we talk about it?" he realized he needed to take matters into his own hands because if he relied on the verbal abilities of the girl in front of him, they would talk about it at ninety when they would be in a retirement home. "Do you want to?" she asked, passing a neurotic hand over her nose. It was her tick when she was nervous. She had a few. The twitching leg and the hand on the nose betrayed her the quickest. "Li, can we be mature about this? Please?" he sighed and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. He hated that he had to beg. She took another sip of the coffee, looked at him, and nodded. "It was fun, right?" she asked hesitantly, again looking forward instead of at him. "It could be more fun if you manage to look me in the eyes for more than five seconds..." he tried to sound calm and amused, but this new situation was strange for him too. He didn't expect this. He didn't expect to look at Liana in a sexual way. He didn't expect his good luck charm from the moment he started playing tennis to be simultaneously the best blowjob he had ever had. It could confuse anyone, but him probably especially. "I can look at you for more than five seconds..." she rolled her eyes and brought her gaze back to him, not moving but blushing. This made him chuckle in frustration. "We're a bit stupid, aren't we?" he said, and she laughed too. "It wasn't a mistake, right?" she asked, feeling a bit more comfortable. "It was everything but a mistake, Li." He stated. "We can just take it slow and try to figure out what's going on? Stay us and add new things to it..." he suggested. "Art, what about Tashi?" she asked suddenly, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "What about her?" he returned the question, a little confused by the new direction of the conversation. "You talk about her all day, you definitely want to be with her," she seemed frustrated. "I don't want to be with Tashi," he felt the need to defend himself, not understanding how instead of talking about how great their night was, they were talking about Tashi Duncan. "She's also with Patrick. I'm not in love with her or anything." He spoke faster than usual, afraid that the opportunity he had now with Liana would slip through his fingers because of something hypothetical that wouldn't happen with Tashi anyway. "I didn't say you were in love with her..." she sighed, and again her hand was on her nose for a second. In her opinion, Art had given himself away. Art placed the cup he was holding on the floor and turned his whole body towards her, examining her closely. He was almost sure he would never get used to Liana wearing his clothes. He would never get used to seeing the marks he left on her neck, silently screaming that she was his. Completely his. "Li, I won't force you, but I think you want this too." He tried a new direction. Feeling he had to steer the conversation away from Tashi. Of course, he wanted Tashi; every man with eyes wanted Tashi. But he knows for sure that what happened last night with Liana would be the only thing he could think about until the next time he heard her moan his name. "You can't know that," she said in a childish voice and crossed her arms under her chest, causing him to chuckle.

"You're such a brat, God," he chuckled again, because he knew she was just being stubborn. Just by looking at her at that moment, with the flushed cheeks, he knew he had won this argument. "No, I'm not. I'm a person who knows what they want." She stood up, taking a few steps to move away from him. Liana felt she had to think deeply about this. Every warning light she had was flashing. This is Art Donaldson. You can't give your all to Art Donaldson. He will crush you. She knew. He stood up with her, every step she took backward hesitantly, he took forward confidently until they reached a dead-end; his closet. She lifted her gaze and met his blue eyes, looking at her as if she held the moon in her hands. "What do you want?" he asked in a whisper, not taking his eyes off her for a second. Almost managing to see the shiver she felt when he spoke so close to her. "I can help you understand. It's Us. It’s just you and me." He spoke near her ear, and she closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. One of his fingers gently brushed her neck, over the marks he had left, causing her to sigh. "Just say it. You're a big girl, you can say what you want." By this point, both of them were breathing heavily, and she opened her eyes, seeing his darken with a spark of something she couldn't identify. "Art..." she whispered, unable to find the words. He was so beautiful. How had she not noticed over the years how beautiful Art Donaldson was? "I'm not going to say it for you." His voice was steady, demanding. Not hesitant. "Use your words." His nose touched hers, and her chest brushed against his with every breath she took. "The moment you say what you want, you'll get it." His breaths were heavy too. It almost felt like the fate of their lives depended on this moment. "I want it. I want you." Her voice was weak; she couldn't swallow or breathe. "Good girl." He responded, and saw how her expression changed. The moment he said that, it was like a switch, she pressed her lips to his, almost angrily, upset that he had made her so desperate. Upset that he knew exactly how to lead her where he wanted. Upset that his hand was still not under her shirt, even though all she wanted right now was his touch. He completely controlled her ability to function independently right now. Just knowing she was good for him. They pulled away from each other, breathing heavily. Art's smile was genuine but also mischievous. They both knew he had won. He simply knew it was a tie, and that she could crush him with one wrong word. "So, we'll take it slow." He said, and she chuckled. "Yeah, huh? Slow seems to be our strength." She rolled her eyes and laughed too, concluding they would be fine. "I need to go home, my parents think I'm at Rebecca's..." she said while they lay in bed, not exchanging many words. His hand was around her, and her head was on his shoulder, still trying to catch their breath from the emotional turmoil of the past two days. "Your parents know you're here," he chuckled, remembering the conversation with his mom earlier. Liana looked at him and sat up quickly. Her hand scratched her nose for a moment, and her eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean???" Her voice raised an octave, and her cheeks flushed red. "My parents heard us. We weren't exactly quiet." He sounded amused, but to his defense, he had at least an hour more than her to get used to the idea. "What are you talking about? Why are you laughing, Art?! This is so embarrassing!!!" Her hands were on her face, trying to hide the level of embarrassment. He gently removed them, and she looked at him with the most frustrated look she had ever given him. He couldn't believe there were still so many of Liana's facial expressions he didn't know. "Mom lied to me earlier that she wouldn’t tell Sarah, but-" he started, trying to explain how he knew. "As if they can keep anything from each other. Ugh. So embarrassing, Art." "She also said they knew this would happen," he tried to comfort her, to explain that maybe it wasn't so bad that they knew. That now they didn't have to explain themselves.

"So fucking embarrassing." She repeated. "Patrick is coming tomorrow, remember?" He suddenly asked after a few more minutes of silence. "Oh my God, Patrick. We can't tell Patrick." She mumbled, half to Art, half to herself. "What?" He looked confused by her sudden change in behavior. She seemed to freeze next to him. He watched her get out of bed and start pacing back and forth. "We can't tell him, Art. Promise me." She stopped and looked at him. "Why?" He felt his stomach turning. Why didn't she want Patrick to know? Patrick, whom Art knew was in love with her. Patrick, who talked to her for hours on the phone. Patrick, whom Art introduced to her. "Because everything is already complicated in his life, and I don't want to add something else that will make him feel weird," she tried to explain herself but couldn't. Liana's heart was racing. The thought of Patrick knowing she and Art were trying things and exploring each other's bodies made her uncomfortable. "Why would knowing that you and I are together make him feel weird?" His heart was pounding. He understood; She knew. She would never admit it, but deep down, Liana knew Patrick was in love with her. "Because everything is changing for him, and he already feels like we're all leaving him. Art. Please. Let's figure out where this is going first and only then tell him. Promise me." She landed on the floor by the bed. "Please, Art, he and I are already in a weird place right now." She added, lowering her head. "Why are you in a weird place?" He knew something was wrong in their relationship. He just didn't want to ask either of them. To be honest, the fact that Liana and Patrick barely talked in the past month didn't bother Art at all. When Patrick would casually ask him on the phone how Liana was (as if he were asking about the weather), Art would say everything was fine with her and that he saw her a lot, even though he barely saw her at all, and that would be the end of the conversation about Liana. "Because I was stressed about my exams and mad about something he said to me. It doesn't matter, I'll apologize when he comes," she shrugged and didn't look at him anymore. "Did you choose a major?" He asked suddenly, and she leaned back on the floor and sighed. "Yes. We'll see where it goes when the grades come… I applied to both Architecture and Business." She shrugged. "Damn, no wonder you were so stressed. Why did you do that???" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why would anyone apply to both? "Long story, and I don't feel like dealing with it right now." She sighed. How was she supposed to tell him now that if she got into Architecture like she wanted, she would probably leave Stanford for a while?

During Christmas dinner, with the small Hanukkah menorah in the window, Patrick, Liana, and Art snuck outside and sat on the grass, passing around a bottle of champagne they managed to sneak with them. "Finally, some peace," Liana said and giggled. Art's hand automatically found its way to her leg, making gentle movements. Patrick didn't miss it. He remembered the conversation with Tashi. Conversation. Whatever it was with Tashi. If he could, Art would bend her over the table. Show her who she belonged to. Those words were burned into his mind. Could it be they were really fucking? No way. Liana would tell him. Art would tell him. "So, what's new with you guys? Tell me about life at Stanford. Are you already the greatest tennis player in America?" He asked. "She doesn't come to my practices, so I can't be the greatest in America," Art joked, and Liana rolled her eyes and stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom. Don't encourage him too much," she started to walk away. "You're not going to tell me?" Patrick asked, and Art just looked at him, raising an eyebrow while half-smiling. "I'm not stupid, Art, what's going on?" His heart was beating faster than expected. "You know…" Art shrugged, and his smile widened. But it wasn't an innocent or a sincere smile. It was his victory smile. A territorial smile. One that couldn't resist saying the last word. Patrick was angry. He tried to breathe, but he felt his stomach clenching. How, while he was trying to be the person Liana needed, did Art get Liana? Art, who wasn't even trying. Art, who for most of his life didn't know what he had right under his nose. "What will you do when she leaves?" He heard himself say, and Art looked at him in confusion. "Come on, Art, you know she'll pass that test and get accepted, right?" He realized with every word he spoke that Art had no idea. He didn't know Liana was planning a year outside of America. "What are you talking about?" Art asked with visible panic in his voice. Patrick tried, but he couldn't stop his smile. Art thought he had won. Art was wrong.

Hey, it's a long chapter, and I'd like to hear your thoughts as always. I hope you enjoy it even tho I understand that the pace is slow. I just hate rushing things for the sake of something interesting happening. You know what I mean?  Next part we'll have more of Patrick, don't worry. pls pls pls keep sending me your opinions in the comments and in the ask box. It makes my day. As usual, if you want to be on the tag list, just ask 💜

taglist: @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @swetearss @ganana @yoitsme-04 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @izzywags478

[heavyhitterheaux]

"You ask mom, she likes you better" with the triplets

Ivy knocked on the door to her younger sister's room with both of her other siblings beside her.

She heard a quiet response from Nova saying to come in before they all came in with bright smiles on their faces.

When Nova turned around from her desk and saw all three of them she immediately raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms across her chest.

“If the three of you are sneaking out again, I am not covering for you and I’m telling daddy.”

“Oh and not mom?” Autumn asked as she sat on her bed and looked at her.

“No, I said I was telling on you not that I wanted for all of you never to see your eighteenth birthday. I'm not that mean. As mom would say ‘she'll send you to see Jesus early’”

“Then we need a favor, little sister.” Axel said as he attempted to ruffle her hair, but she moved away and simply eyed him.

“What's in it for me?”

“You'll be helping your big brother and big sisters.”

“Nope. Not interested.”

“Come on! Please!”

“No.”

“You don't even know what the favor is! You benefit from it too.” Ivy exclaimed and Nova looked at her with a straight face.

“Still not interested.”

"Ask if we can go to Honey Pig!”

“And why can't you three do that?”

“You ask mom, she likes you better. Besides, if we ask she'll say no.”

“Not my problem. Not my fault you went joyriding in her car and scratched it.”

“I…. NOVA PLEASE! We're hungry!”

She simply sighed before pushing her glasses up on her face and stared at them before responding.

“I have terms and conditions.”

“Name it.”

“I said terms and conditions. That's plural. Anyway, clean my room for a month, walk Butterscotch when it's my turn, drive me anywhere I ask if I get permission to go, and…”

“No. Stop. Absolutely not.” Autumn said as she cut her off and Ivy and Axel rolled their eyes at her.

“Let the woman finish! I'm sure we can compromise.” Axel exclaimed while covering Autumn's mouth.

“Thank you, Axel. As I was saying…”

“EW! DID YOU JUST LICK MY HAND!?” Axel yelled as Autumn laughed.

“Shouldn't have tried to silence me.”

“Well somebody needs too.” Ivy mumbled and Nova was growing annoyed.

“Yall are on your own.”

“WAIT! Okay fine whatever your terms are, we'll do it.”

“I didn't agree!”

“Autumn, do you want to get fed or not!?”

“Fine.”

“That settles it. I'll go ask.”

Nova came downstairs to where you and Jack were with the triplets hiding on the steps to listen to what your response would be. She came and sat in between the both of you and you and Jack made eye contact with each other knowing that she was about to ask something.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Nova?”

“I'm hungry. Can we go to Honey Pig?”

“Before I answer your question, did you siblings put you up to this?” You asked as Jack stifled a laugh.

“Huh? Wait, what? Why do you ask?”

“Answer my question first.”

“Well….”

“They already asked me and I said no.”

“What!?”

“IVY, AX, AUTUMN I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING ON THE STEPS AND NO IS THE FINAL ANSWER! SINCE ALL OF YOU ARE ON THIN ICE!” You exclaimed as you immediately heard them all groan.

“BUT MOM WE'RE HUNGRY!”

“There's chicken nuggets and uncrustables in the freezer.” Jack said as he continued to scroll through his phone.

“DAD, WE DON'T WANT THAT!”

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

“Dad! I'm calling grandma and telling her you're starving us.”

“Go ahead Ax. And tell her that you also took your mom’s car without permission and scratched it.”

“I…”

“Mm hmm, thought so.”

“I am never doing them another favor again.” Nova said as she huffed before getting up and making her way upstairs.

You made sure she was out of earshot before turning to Jack, but he spoke up first.

“I think it was better that we told them no instead of telling them that we went earlier when they were in school.”

“But what are we going to say when they find the leftovers?”

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

Ok so I wonder how the TMNT boys (any version you want) would react if they had an S/O who they loved a lot, and they get sent to the future and in the future they get to meet their grandkid, and sadly their now old S/O who waited for them the whole time and never moved on. it turns out the S/O had been pregnant before they went on the mission and technically lived out their life raising the kid on their own.(due to the turtles being in the future) Also said kid is now an adult and is very unhappy with said turtle but the grandkid is over the moon to meet his cool ninja granddad of course its resolved they eventually go back to their past S/O who didn't know any of this but of course is happy to see them again.(and said timeline is avoided) I wonder how the boys would react to that scenario Also sorry if this was super long winded or a not very well written request, its my first time asking one, Thanks for your writings!

Okay first of all anon, this is probably one of the coolest asks I’ve ever seen, I love your imagination dude!

Second, I AM HERE FOR THIS ANGST AND FLUFF DUDE CRYING. Also thank you so much! I’m glad you like my writing!! 🫶🫶🫶

Sent to the future!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word count: 2374

CW: This one is a long one, AFAB reader due to pregnancy, being mom/grandma, still tried to keep it gender-neutral. I haven’t gotten far enough into the 2003 series where they actually go to the future, so keep in mind this is my imagination going into overdrive, angsty, lots of crying, minor cussing, it gets fluffy in some moments though!

🐢 T/N stands for turtle name.

Tags: @sharkie-inthesea, for looking over this before I posted! <3

Sorry for the longer wait, I spent a lot of time the first day writing, then yesterday I was out of commission unfortunately 💔 But I finished today, I really hope you guys enjoy, because man, I enjoyed writing this!

Due to some circumstances, unfortunately the turtles had to travel to the future for a very important mission, I mean it’s not everyday you receive a hologram from a random stranger urging you to come save the future. And the idea of their future being in danger, meaning you, everyone they knew and New York would be in danger, so they had to take this mission.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip anxiously as you watched as they geared up, you wanted to hold them back, tell them to stay, tell them New York needed them here. The growing pit in your stomach telling you that you’d never see them growing much larger and even agitated, you absolutely hated the thought.

You looked at your lover, the feeling growing even worse, “T/N I—” you started, but was interrupted, “Hey, we have to go.” One of his brothers said, and your heart dropped as he turned to you and smiled. “Hey, I’ll be back, Y/N.” He pulled you close and pressed one last kiss to your lips, “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, okay? I love you.” And that’s when you knew, you couldn’t talk him out of it, and with a defeated sigh you said with a forced smile, “I love you too.”

He squeezed you closer before finally pulling back, nodding at his sensei, before walking into the TV that took them to the future with his brothers, and just like that… They were gone.

“No…” you start, tearing up, before Splinter placed a hand on your shoulder. “It will be alright, my child.” He tried to soothe you, “It is okay to cry.” He said, and right then and there, you cried into the older rat’s shoulder as he comforted you. He stared at the TV and hoped for his sons safe return home…

Once the turtles arrived in the future, they were all honestly quite surprised how the world turned out to be. For Donnie, this was ABSOLUTE heaven! Everything is made from the ground up with technology! How amazing! The turtles couldn’t stare in awe for long, they had a mission to take care of.

They split off to cover some ground, and as T/N searched, something peculiar caught his eye. In a nearby alleyway, some cyberpunks came flying out, and they looked awfully familiar. He jumped down and took a closer look and saw an all too familiar tattoo. “The Purple Dragons…” he muttered bitterly. A sinking feeling grew in his gut, so it seems that Shredder’s influence didn’t die in the future and even to this day, they were still here to give New York trouble.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice called out to him, and a teenager came out, holding his weapon(s)?! The teen looked awfully similar to him too… Turtle features but had human features too, such as hair that looked a lot like yours, tied back, he had your eyes too, he wore a torn cloak around his shoulders and he eyed the turtle suspiciously. The teenager pointed his weapon at him, “What’re you doing here?! Helping those Purple Punks?!” T/N’s eyes widened. “No! Never! I never liked them much in the past, why would I ever like them in the future?!”

The teenager paused and eyed him suspiciously again, “Past?” He did a quick once-over before the kid looked shocked, “Wait… GRANDPA?!?!”

And that’s what led T/N to sit in a house, sitting on his knees in front of the low-dining table, walls covered in family photos. Some he could make out as, it was the teenager, which he came to learn his name was Lucas, with his father. Another turtle who Lucas obviously took after in looks.

Lucas came back into the dining room, basically dragging his father as he was babbling non-stop about who he just met. His father’s ridges were furrowed in confusion, “I thought I told you to stop fighting those stupid—” before he looked up and everything seemed to stop, his eyes widening at the sight of his own father who sat in front of him. “Lucas, who is this?” He grit his teeth as he held back his rage. Lucas would go on to cheerfully say, “It’s grandpa T/N! He said he came here in the future to help save it!” The young lad beamed excitedly.

“Get out.” He said in a voice full of anger, directed all at T/N, catching him by surprise, “What—” he started before being yelled at, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU SON OF A BITCH!” He raised his fists, about to fight his own father when he was stopped. “Giovanni, what’s going on?!?” A familiar voice spoke out as an older version of you rushed out and stopped, eyes widening at the scene in front of you. “T-T/N…?!” You stared in shock.

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo’s whole world stopped once he saw you, and he was quick to stand, “Y/N…” his heart ached when he saw the tears form in your eyes, “Leo… You finally came back to me?” You would rush to him, hugging onto him tightly, “It really is you…!” You sobbed out. Leo was quick to hug you back, holding you close as he comforted you. “Y/N, what happened?” He asked as you pulled away, cupping his face, “So much…” You whispered.

💙 Once everyone settled down, you sat across from Leo with Giovanni and Lucas beside you. Giovanni was giving Leo the harshest glare he ever gave someone, meanwhile Lucas was practically bouncing in his seat. You take a deep breath before looking at Leo, who waited patiently. “When you went to the future, I found out I was pregnant… I didn’t think it was possible, but… I had Giovanni.” You start, “Master Splinter helped me name him because I wanted to keep the line going with naming my kids after Italian artists, like he named you all…” you would lower your head, Giovanni placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “Master Splinter passed away a few years later after you all went into the future and never came back…” you tear up again, “I don’t even know if in that future you’re still alive or not.” You began to weep softly, making Leo’s heart ache at even the idea of him ever abandoning you. He would never, and he knew that.

💙 He placed a hand on yours, “Y/N, I loved you more than life itself, I would’ve come back to you if I was still alive.” You look up, tears still falling, “I know.” Leo squeezed your hand gently, “Good…” he then finally stood, “I’m going to fix this, I can’t stand to see you suffer because of me.” He smiles at you and gently kisses your hand, “I’ll come back home to you.” You smiled as more tears fell, “Good.”

💙 Leo would leave after giving you a tight hug and wishing his future family well, despite the fact Giovanni barely wanted him there in the first place. Once meeting up with his brothers, they’d work hard to save the future so he could get back home to you, and to start that family together.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Once Raph’s eyes laid on you, he felt a sudden rise of emotions that made him want to tear up, but for your sake he held back. “Dollface…” he stood up quickly and hurried over to you, Giovanni wanted to protest, but stopped himself when his mother hugged onto Raph tightly, crying into his chest. “Dollface, what happened?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek as he stares at what seemed like a hollow version of yourself. What had happened to you while he was gone, and why on earth was he not with you?! He was supposed to be here protecting you…

❤️ “Oh Raph… After you left, I found out I was pregnant and ended up living with Master Splinter.” You sigh, “He ended up passing away a couple years ago, after Mutants became more accepted here.” Raph’s brows furrowed at the thought, his father was dead, of course that would happen, he was an old rat after all, but it still hurt to think about. He shook his head, “And where was I?” He asked the burning question, watching as your face fell more, “You never came back. None of you guys did, and I fear you might’ve died in the future.” You whisper shakily as more tears escape you, and Raph could only hug you tighter to himself.

❤️ “Oh Dollface…” he would pull away, gently grasping your shoulders with a determined look, “I’m gonna make it better.” He says firmly, “I’m gonna finish this mission, and I’m gonna get back home to you.” He teared up, “I’m gonna help you raise Giovanni, and I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna grow old with you, and you can count on it.” He promised as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft sob escaping you as you hugged onto him tightly once more.

❤️ Soon it was time for Raph to go, and as he walked off to meet up with his brothers, he looked back and gazed at his family one last time, he vowed to you, Giovanni and Lucas that he would make it home, and he would make sure of that. When his brothers saw him, they saw a certain fire in his eyes, and the boys knew it was game time, and he sure as hell was gonna keep his promise.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 When Donnie saw you, he was still processing everything, how did you two have a baby? How is that even genetically possible? But his mind finally stopped and his heart sank when you came rushing towards him, making him quickly stand up and holding you close to his person. “Y/N…” He whispered breathily, pressing soft kisses to your temple, making you cry harder.

💜 “I’ve missed you so much.” You say, and Donnie knew, he put two-and-two together. “I never came back, did I?” He asks, pulling away as he gazes into your dull eyes, “No.” You shake your head with a whisper, staring back into his eyes. “And you never moved on?” He asks again, his heart breaking at the thought. “No.” You whisper again. Donnie would rest his head on yours as he would rub his hands over your arms, before gently taking your hands, seeing the ring he had crafted for you many years ago, still resting on your finger. He bit back his emotions and inhaled sharply, “Why? Why didn’t you move on?” He asked.

💜 “I don't think I could ever have found anyone who could fit the role that only you could fill.” You would cry again, making him finally break down and cry with you. He hugged you tightly, whispering how much he loved you, promising you that he’d go back to you, that he’ll come home to you. Promising you that you wouldn’t have to raise Giovanni alone. You would have him by your side…

💜 Finally off, he waved goodbye to you, his son and his grandson, and he held his head high, ready to take on this mission, to go home, and to kiss you. To spend every night with you like he always did, to hold you, to create with you, to enjoy peace and life’s gifts. Once he found his brothers, he got straight to work with Leo to make a plan to ensure they all made it home safe and sound.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Mikey would immediately begin to cry when you cried, the way you looked so sadly at him, the years of pain without him was more than apparent. “Babe…” he stands up quickly, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, I’m here.” He smiles, holding you to himself, but he couldn’t stop those cries, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying either. He held you tightly, letting your emotions run free. He glanced up and saw Giovanni glaring at him but keeping his distance, he knew his mother needed this…

🧡 Mikey pulled back and would place kisses along your face, trying to cheer you up, “I’m here… You don’t have to cry anymore.” He tried to assure you about everything that happened between sobs. He would rub your back soothingly as he hummed a soft tune to try and see your mind. You felt complete once again when he hugged you, and soon, you calmed down. You guys spent a lot of time in each other's arms, mostly Mikey trying to cheer you up and make you smile, making you relive the old days of when it was just you two being dumb and in love, and the thought made you smile.

🧡 Forgetting about the mission for a while, Mikey instead spent time with his soon-to-be family. Playing board games, getting to know Lucas, and trying to get Giovanni to open up, which he refused, as he very much disliked his own father for reasons such as he left his mother and never came back, not something Mikey could control, but Giovanni still held a grudge. Lucas on the other hand was thrilled to get to know his grandpa, and overall, thought his grandpa was amazing.

🧡 Soon it was time to leave, but Mikey wouldn’t leave until he gave you a sweet departing kiss and, against Giovanni’s protests, gave his son and grandson a big hug, promising to fix everything, to make sure that they don’t live a future without him! And off he went, being sure to fight his hardest on this mission to get back home to you.

……

Once T/N made it home, he didn’t hesitate to hug right onto you, leaving you surprised by this sudden burst of emotions, “T/N…? Is everything okay?” You ask, noticing his injuries, you pull away. “T/N, we have to take care of those—”

“No.” He says, “Just let me hold you.” He says as he hugged you tightly, resting a hand on your stomach as he did so, feeling his own chest swell with gratitude to be here again. This was the beginning of something new, and he was happy to be here with you, and to start this family with you.

[heymickyursofine]

You Made Me Love You. Benny Weir X Fem!Mean!Reader

Summary: When Benny found out you loved him he was ecstatic, only thinking of the positives. He never thought of the negative consequences that would come with it. He never thought you’d hate him for it.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Angstttttt (like a lot), mean reader but lowkey valid, crying.

“What?” Benny yelled at his Grandma and she almost had to cover her ears at his loud tone.

“Quiet down!” She hissed.

Benny was flabbergasted to say the least. YOU were in love with HIM? He couldn’t believe it, he’s not sure he fully did, but if his grandma was saying it then it had to be true.

“Oh my god. I-I have to go.” Benny stumbled on his feet backwards before turning around and running to the front door.

“We’ll talk about your punishment later!” Grandma shouted but doubted he heard it.

Benny’s feet took him all the way to Ethan’s house and he hurried up the stairs to the porch, skipping most of the steps, before pretty much banging on the door. “Ethan! Ethan, open up! I have major news!” Benny felt like his whole body was vibrating, he was ecstatic.

He was also out of breath, running all the way to Ethan’s did a number on him.

He saw a figure approaching the door and as it opened he realized it was Ethan’s mom, he would’ve been more confused as to why she was home so early in the day but he didn’t care right now. “Hi Mrs. Morgan, is Ethan home?”

How he got that whole sentence out without stuttering surprised him.

“Hi Benny, he’s upstairs in his room.”

“Great, thanks!” He pushed past her a bit rudely and ran up the stairs, skipping most of the steps and almost falling at one point before he caught himself and climbed the rest of the stairs with his hands which gave him extra speed.

He didn’t even knock on Ethan’s door, he grabbed the handle and forced it open, the knob hit the wall with a loud bang.

“Dude!” Ethan was in the middle of putting a shirt on, he fumbled with it. Benny pushed the door shut letting it slam.

“You are not going to believe this!”

“Oh no,” Ethan started to worry, “Your stupid potion worked?”

“No! No! It didn’t!”

“Then why are you so happy?” Ethan was extremely confused.

“Because she—oh my god I can’t even get it out I’m so happy—she’s already in love with me!”

“What?” Ethan yelled, though quieter than Benny did when he found out.

“That’s exactly what I said! Grandma told me that if the potion didn’t work that means she’s already in love with me!”

“Thank god.” Ethan let out a sigh of relief at the fact that you didn’t have a spell put on you. “I have to go ask her out, right?” Benny started to pace the room, his hands shaking slightly. “Oh god I’m so nervous.”

Ethan went over to him and placed his hands on Benny’s shoulders, “There’s nothing to be nervous about. You already know what her answer is going to be,” Ethan shrugged.

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right! Why am I worrying? I don’t know. She loves me, I’m going to be fine.”

“You are. But you have to tell her about the spell.”

Benny groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes! What if she were to find out and you weren’t the one to tell her?” Ethan asked, being much more rational than his friend. “How would she find out? We’re the only ones who know.” He gestured between himself and his best friend.

“Benny you have to! Listen to yourself! She has to know it’s not right if she doesn’t. You’re just going to ask her out and keep the fact that originally you were going to put a spell on her for her love? Act like it never happened?”

Benny bowed his head. “You’re right.” He hated telling Ethan that.

The next day he came to your house, yes the next day.

He was going to tell you the same day of his discovery but decided he needed to wait to collect his thoughts, think about how he was going to apologize.

“Hi, Benny!” He already felt weak in the knees at the pretty smile you sent him after you opened the door. “Hi, Y/N. Can we talk?”

Your smile faltered, now worried by his tone. “O-oh, yeah of course. Come on in.” You moved out of the door frame.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked him as you sat on your couch.

“I’m not sure how to say this,” He let out a sigh.

“Benny, you're scaring me.”

“I-um… gave you a love potion.” He spoke quietly but you heard him loud and clear.

“What?”

“I gave you a love potion.” He spoke louder.

“No—I heard you. Why would you do that?” You subconsciously scooted away from him.

A love potion.

Really?

“Why, Benny?” You were in disbelief.

“Because I wanted you to love me.”

“Benny,” You let out a scoff and stood up, “In no way ever is that a good enough reason. Why didn’t you just say something like a normal person and not put a stupid spell on me?”

“I know, I know, I just didn’t know how to say it and I didn’t think you would feel the same but I know you do.”

“And how would you know that? Hmm? Because your spell didn’t work.” Your tone was laced with malice.

He stood up and tried to grab your hands, you yanked them away.

“I know that because it didn’t work on you. Love potions don’t work if they are already in love with the person who created the spell.”

“I really wish you would’ve figured that out by asking me, Benny. Because right now I’m not so sure that love is there anymore.”

You were tearful. Not because you were sad (although you were at his actions) but because you were more mad than anything else. Mad that your friend felt like he had to go to an extreme measure to be with you.

“Don’t say that, please, Y/N.” He walked to where you stood on the other side of the room and you backed away. “Stay away from me, Benny. I don’t know how to feel right now.”

“This isn’t how I imagined this going,” He looked down.

“How did you expect it to go, Benny?! Did you think I would be a-okay with the fact that you essentially drugged me? I don’t know what you put the spell in—wait. My drink. The drink you gave me at lunch the other day! I thought it tasted weird! God, you are ridiculous. How could you do something like that to me? I thought we were friends. You had to have known this wouldn’t go well or you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

Benny wasn’t one to cry in front of you, only a couple of times which you oddly appreciated from him, but right now was one of those times, and you didn’t appreciate it.

You thought he had nothing to cry about, he wasn’t the one who got a spell put on him.

Maybe you were too harsh.

The spell hadn’t even worked, but what if it did?

“If you don’t have anything to say and you’re just going to stand here and cry you can leave. I don’t even know what to think right now.”

He nodded slightly. “I’m sorry.” He turned away and you rolled your eyes at his apology.

Benny could never do anything to make you mad at him, more so hate him, but he’d never done this before.

—

Words from Micky - Hiiii *awkwardly* so sorry for that, know you guys were probably expecting a happy Part 2 where they kiss or whatever but that didn’t happen this part clearly 😬. But!! Part 3 will be a happy ending and be written quicker, I’ve already got ideas flowin’. I really want to thank you guys for the love in Part 1, words can’t describe how happy I was/am whenever I see an interaction on it. I never thought the fic would be as popular as it is nor would I have thought my blog would gain that much recognition. Thank you all for the love I love you guys!! And thank you for accepting my bad stories that don’t come out well like I would have hoped, you guys mean a lot to me :’)

PART 1 (HERE) PART 3 (HERE) - - PART 3 COMING SOON COMMENT TO BE TAGGED!

FOLLOW MY WATTPAD: controversiallyoungf

[gadriezmannsgirl]

I took long doing this one, I know💀🥴 also not proofread

Also known as Gender Reveal (9)!

Birthdays -P.G6

Summary: It's Mateo's first birthday meaning craziness in the Páez Y/L/N household

"Do we have the balloons?"

"Yes"

"The cake?"

"Yes"

"The food?" Pablo hums nodding

"Do we-"

"We've got everything, amor" Pablo interrupted you as you sighed

"Do you think he'll enjoy this little party?"

"I'm not sure if little is the right word" Pablo admired the work you, mostly, did.

"It's not half of what we did to Lena, so I'm considering it little" Pablo laughs softly "I just want him to enjoy his first birthday ever"

"And he will, even though, he mostly won't even know what's going on but loves being cuddled and kissed" You smiled softly pushing your head into his chest

"Just like his dada" You whispered

"His dada loves being cuddled and kissed by his momma" You smile giggling and lifted your head at the same time Pablo leaned down and your lips met

"They'll be here any moment" You said after the kiss "We better hurry up with the final touches and get dressed"

"You look gorgeous like this" You blush grabbing the teddy figure with your son's name printed on it.

"Gracias, mi vida" You got into the small ladder but forgot about the tape "Pablo, amor. Pass me the tape, please"

"Aquí tienes. Cuidado te caes" (Here you go. Be careful)

"Lo tengo" (I got it)

"I'll help you" His hands went to your ass as you laughed freely

"Pablo!"

"I'm just helping my wife over here!"

"Quit your hands!"

"No. They're comfy and this way I make sure you won't fall" You laughed.

You couldn't lie, you enjoyed his hands on you.

"Alright, this is done" You said getting down with Pablo's help. "We're such a good team"

"We are" Pablo agrees "You mostly did all the job, though" You shook your head smiling

"You inflated most of the balloons" Pablo laughs "Team, amor. Equipo" You said before turning around "I'll take a quick shower, get dressed and ready. In twenty they'll be here"

"I can shower with you?"

"Only shower. No funny business"

"Those are for later in the night. Come on, let's go"

...

"¡Papi! ¡Mami!" Helena came in running, Pablo crunching down and lifting her in his arms

"This is gorgeous" Belén said smiling as she came with Mateo

"Thank you" You said smiling "I truly hope they weren't that bad"

"Never" Pablo, your dad-in-law, said; shaking his head "El pequeño se parece a su padre hasta en lo más mínimo" (Babyboy is alike his father even in the smallest things ever)

You looked at your babyboy in your arms as he was inspecting everything around him.

"¿Qué les puedo decir que no sepan?" (What can I say that you don't know already?)

"Hey" Pablo said as you all laugh

"Mat, hijo" You called him "Wanna go for a swim?" He laughs and kicks his feet, making you smile "Let's go then" You said seeing how the pool was starting to be used by your closest friends.

You pass Mateo to your husband as you go to the bathroom to change out of your floral dress. You helped Lena who followed you to change her out of her shorts and t-shirt.

"Look how pretty that girl is!" Your mom smiles already inside the pool with a drink on her hand as Helena smiled and laughed letting go of your hand to run towards her grandma

"¡Cuidado!" (Careful!) You said jogging behind her as your mom met her at the edge of the pool

"I got her, mi vida" She said getting out of the pool with Helena on her waist "You enjoy and get ready to serve everyone in here"

"None of that miss. The only ones I'm serving are you, Pablo, my in-laws and my kids, other than you they can do self-service"

"I love you so much, dear"

"I love you too, mom" You smiled and kissed her cheek watching how she pulled Helena underneath the water to prepare her for the pool.

"¡Mamá, mamá!" Mateo called you as you turned around to see him with his dad and a ball before he let it fall and splashed both boys. You laughed before you felt yourself being pushed

"Hijodetu-" You said inmediately as you went out to find Fermín and Pedri laughing "¡Mira tú-!" (Look, you-!) You cut yourself off spitting some water that had entered your mouth making them laugh harder "You'll see"

"Hey! Leave my wife alone!" Pablo said serious and Mateo throw them the ball

"Mamá" He yelled out with his dad's best feature, the frown

"Yeah, he's also asking you guys to leave his mom be"

The guys were laughing when Pedri and Fermín were suddenly pulled into the pool as well. Behind the prank, your mom and your mom in law were laughing

"Nobody messes with my daughter!" Your mom said as you got out of the pool drenched and high fived her.

When the guys started jumping over the pool and soon enough everyone was inside it, laughing and joking. You were with your mom, Belén, Aurora, a few WAG's and Mateo who had fallen asleep on your chest, sat chatting about everything whilst the guys were playing some football or handball.

The party was going nice, the gift box was over the top and everyone was enjoying the pastries you and your mom had made for your baby's birthday.

Soon, it was time for the cake, Mateo had to be woken up and in his face you could see he was very sleepy, you lifted him on your hip while Helena was on Gavi's and everyone started chatting the birthday song.

Mateo, even while sleepy, loved the attention he got from his grannys, who had their phones up to record everything with big smiles on their faces.

While blowing the candles, you and Pablo helped Mateo without him noticing and when he thought he had done it by himself, he had the biggest smile on his face.

You had grabbed two balloons for Lena and Mat, for them to keep and play around in the house with. Mateo, who had been up and electric now, was running with Aurora's babyboy, Javier and Ferran's little boy, Jeremías in the little park, you had settled up for the kids.

After a while, you went to see your babies, Helena was jumping up and down the inflatable as Mateo was playing with his cars in the floor "¡Mami, mami! ¡Ven, brinca conmigo!" You smiled taking off your shoes and bringing your babyboy into the mix.

When Pablo went to find you to tell you everyone had left, he smiled watching the three loves of his life be happy around each other

"Can I join in?" The three of you turn your heads to him

"¿Dejamos que papá se una?" (Should we let papá join in?)

"Yes!" Helena screamed and so did Mateo and by the time they said yes, Pablo was already inside the inflatable

"¿Qué tal están?" (How are you guys?)

"We're perfect and together, dad" Lena answered with a smile as Mateo nodded

"Just like what we'll always be" Pablo said kissing both Lena and Mateo's cheeks and then he leaned forward to kiss your lips winning an "ew" from the kids "What do you mean by "ew", eh?" He said launching forward to Mateo but wrapping his arms around Lena bringing her to him as he kissed them all over their faces, your kids laughter filling your heart with warm and love "AND LET'S NOT FORGET ABOUT MOM!" The three of them attacked you as you laughed receiving their kisses

"I love the three of you, so much" You said when Mateo yawned "But I think it's time to go home, don't you think babyboy?" He nods softly burying his head in your neck "You liked your birthday?" He nodded as you got out of the inflatable and picked the things up to get them in the car

In middle of pulling the things in the car, Mateo and Lena both fell asleep as you and Pablo smiled at your kids.

"Wish they stop growing up this fast" You said leaning on his chest seeing them in the back of the car

"I do too, we gotta enjoy every single little time we can before they get older" You nod "However, I meant it when I said we'll always be perfect and together" He kissed your temple, you smiled and wrapped your arms against him

"I know you did. I know it as well"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, omc, ofc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to? Chapter Summary: More information about the animal attack comes to light. You can’t decide if you're more scared of the monster or becoming friends with someone new. 

A/N: You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

You were surprised to see your dad’s car in the garage. He wasn’t supposed to be off work for hours, and he certainly never came home early on weekdays. You would be more nervous if there was anyone left in your life to grieve. It was just the two of you now. Your mom hadn’t ever talked about her family; you weren't even sure if she ever had one, and Grandma and Papa Dickinson died before you even had the chance to remember them. You wished, sometimes, that there was someone else in the house. Someone who could fill the cold silence and closed doors. Someone who might chase away the ghosts lingering in the long halls and photographs on the walls. It was a futile dream. You were going to die in this house, and someday a new family would chase your family’s shadows away with laughter.

You felt a bittersweet sense of déjà vu when you walked into the house and saw your dad sitting at the kitchen table. The kitchen was his spot before everything went wrong. He puttered around the island in the mornings with his thermos of coffee and tablet, somehow knowing exactly when to flip the bubbling pancakes on the griddle without glancing up from whatever NPR article he was reading. He only looked up from the screen to kiss your mom on the cheek and give you a side-squeeze until you whined about your inability to breathe. 

That was a long time ago, you reminded yourself as your dad looked up from his iPad. It’d been four years, but he still hadn’t quite figured out how to hug you and the kitchen never smelled like pancakes and cinnamon syrup anymore. “How was school?” your dad finally said after a long moment of uneasy eye-contact. 

Your brow wrinkled, and your head canted slightly, “You really want to talk about my day?”

“Of course,” your dad paused and rubbed his hands over his face, “but there is something important I wanted to talk to you about.” His stubble had grown out enough that you could see where the brown was starting to gray. He looked so old for a moment, and you weren't quite sure how to feel. You never did around him. 

Frowning, you sat down in the chair across from him, “Did someone die?”

“No,” your dad quickly replied, and then he sighed, “well, yes.” He set his iPad to the side and took his thick reading glasses off, “You know about the animal attacks.” It wasn’t a question. You figured that was how this would go; it was easier to pretend you didn’t exist if he monologued to the spot on the wall just over your shoulder. “Sheriff Stilinski and I agree that a curfew is the best course of action, considering the situation we’re in.”

Best course of action. You chewed on what was left of your nails and resisted the sigh budding in your chest. So, this was a council meeting too. You just didn’t get a vote. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Your dad blinked a few times and rubbed at his jaw, like he’d been expecting you to fight him on it. Most of the fight fizzled out in you a long time ago; it was just easier to pretend. You got that from him, you thought. You inherited your dad’s love for mystery novels and his ability to deny reality straight to its face, and that was where the similarity ended. Your face, your skin, your heart—your exhausting curiosity—that was all your mom. It must be why your dad couldn’t keep his gaze on you for long. He ran his fingers through his short crop of dark hair and said, “Anyone under the age of 18 needs to be home by 9:00 every night.” 

“Fine.” It wasn’t like you had much of a social life anyway, and the curio shop you worked for closed long before dark. “So,” you fiddled with the edge of a decorative bamboo placemat that hadn’t seen a plate in years, “do the police have any idea what kind of animal’s going all Pac-Man on people?”

Your dad stared at you for a moment, a deep divot developing above the crooked bridge of his nose. You looked down at your hands and mumbled, “The vampire Pomeranian, not the wimpyass circle.”

His mouth tugged a little, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile if everything else in the world didn’t directly contradict the theory. “Not exactly.”

“Which means…” you shook your head a little and tugged your fingers through your unruly hair, grimacing a bit as they snagged on a few knots where your hair had frizzed together, “they’ve ruled out tiny bloodsucking dogs, or they’ve narrowed it down to a few probable options?” 

He paused for a long moment, and you pulled your shins to your chest, focusing on the tips of your sneakers hanging off the edge of the wooden seat. You turned your cheek into your kneecaps and waited for your dad to make an excuse and leave. You’d pushed. You always had to push. 

“There were wolf fibers on the girl.”

You whipped your head up from your knees, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. You were a little embarrassed that you were more stunned by your dad sharing confidential information with you than a wolf migrating to central California for the first time in over a hundred years. “And the bus driver?”

“He’s still…unresponsive. Stilinski is looking into the possibility that he was attacked by the same animal.” 

“Huh,” you said quietly, eyes glazing over as you considered the possibility.

“Regardless, you need to be home before dark until they catch the damn thing,” he leaned back against his chair, tipping his head back with his bottle of Miller High life. The golden liquid sloshed back and forth with the strength of his swallow. It was the first time you’d seen him drink since the funeral, but you knew about the empty bottles he threw away in the trash outside. Over the years, the number varied; you noticed a significant increase around anniversaries, birthdays, and Christmas. You left extra take-out in the fridge during those weeks, always his favorites, and they were gone in the morning. You twisted the pendant on your necklace and made a note to order Little India’s tandoori chicken after your shift.

“I have to work tonight.” You said quietly, nibbling the bed of your thumbnail, “I’m off at 8:00.” 

You both dreaded and longed for your boss’s absurd take on the situation—though boss wasn’t quite the right word for Maggie Sinclair. Despite the fact that she owned Curio Killed the Cat and approved your paychecks, Maggie was the least authoritative person you knew. You’d say Mags was like an older sister, but older sisters generally didn’t require so much supervision around open flames and sangria—and anything else sparkling enough to distract her sporadic focus. Your mom used to look out for her before she died; you supposed Maggie was just another thing you inherited from her. Your favorite thing probably, but that was something you’d most likely take to your grave.

Your dad’s face went blank for a moment, as it always did when he was reminded of anything remotely related to your mom. It was easier for him, you thought, to pretend that she never existed. You couldn’t even be bitter about it; you hadn’t even cried at the funeral. You cried much later, of course, but by then the pity well had run dry. Nobody cared how you coped, so long as you coped quickly. You’d wasted those precious first few months of constant consolations with numbness, with monotonous, 'Thank you,’s and, 'It’s sad, but I’m okay,'s and then, eventually, everyone stopped asking if you were okay. Time passed. You didn’t touch any of the casseroles in the fridge. People moved on. You lived in the wake and pushed people away with an acrid bite that would disappoint the resurrection right out of your mother. Your dad was just coping. You both were. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “come straight home after.”

You shouldered your backpack and stood up, “Always do.”

You still didn’t know how Maggie met your mom, given the 15-year age gap and their vastly different…everything, but Maggie had been in your life for as long as you could remember. You spent so much time in Maggie’s store after your mom died that you figured you might as well get paid for shelving spell books and grimoires while you were there—even if you did think that most of Maggie’s customers were totally off their rocker. Of course, in-person customers were a rare oddity in Curio Killed the Cat.

The store was always slow on weekdays, weekends too actually. Most of Maggie’s business was online; she shipped ‘haunted’ and ‘magical’ artifacts all across the globe to e-goths with bad backs and Wicca wannabes. Truthfully, Maggie didn’t really need your help running the storefront, but she claimed she enjoyed the company—even if said company was bitterly sarcastic and hypercritical of the product she was stocking. 

“Hey, Mags,” you called. The bell on the front door tinkled in the background as you shoved it open with your shoulder. You paused to scratch under Maggie’s ancient tabby’s chin until he let out a sawing purr. You weren't exactly sure how old Gizmo was, but he behaved more like the taxidermied animals on the walls than the stray cats that lived in the small alley behind the store. 

“Maggie’s head popped up from the circle of book-stack pillars surrounding her. A few of her black curls frizzed out from her bun like a chaotic springy bow and her sweater swallowed her whole despite the relatively warm evening. “Babe,” Maggie placed her hands on your shoulders and grinned at you with a little too much teeth, “thorn in my side, light of my life.”

You lifted the large pair of acrylic glasses from Maggie’s nest of curls and then slipped them over her rounded nose with a reluctant sigh, “What?”

“Glasses. That was next on the agenda.” Maggie blinked owlishly behind her lenses as her eyes adjusted, and then they lit up with whatever it was she’d miraculously remembered, “I am so delighted to see you.”

“It’s Monday.” Gizmo curled around your leg and meowed pathetically until you bent down and lifted him onto you shoulder, “I work Mondays.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I’m aware; I made the schedule. The Concerta isn’t completely defective.”

You grinned a little, and Gizmo kneaded your chest in agreement, “So: You’re delighted to see me.”

Nodding rapidly, Maggie picked up a lavishly bound book from one of the stacks of new inventory. It was so tall that it reached her chin, and there were four more just like it in the back. “I need these stocked for realsies,” Maggie said, blowing off the thin layer of dust that had started to gather on the cover. She dropped the book back on top of the pile with a loud thump and carefully avoided knocking anything over on her way to the front of the store, “And I’m currently in the middle of a bidding war.”

“Haunted or historical?” you grabbed the clunky price gun off of the tarot card display.

“A little of both actually,” Maggie hummed, fiercely focused on the computer screen. Her nose was almost smashed against the monitor.

You set Gizmo down on the floor, patting his head tenderly when he let out a disgruntled whine and clawed at your thin knee socks. Eventually, the effort became too much for his poor paws to bear, and he waddled off towards one of his many nesting spots. “For you or for the store?” you pulled the stepladder away from the wall of stone runes and protection charms and plopped yourself down on the top step.

“For you, actually,” Maggie grinned a little and winked, “don’t say I never gave ya’ nothing.”

“Wonderful,” you dropped your chin into your cupped hands, “a poltergeist bonus.”

Maggie huffed and shoved the sleeves of her hand-knitted cardigan up to her elbows, “It’s not actually haunted. Not really. It’s like…a spirit router, basically. Whatever. It’ll make me feel better about you walking around with a rabid Cujo on the loose.”

“Aw,” you smirked good-naturedly and slapped a price tag on a book entitled ‘Heal the Witch Wound Inside’—$35.99, and for what? You were too amused to point out the redundancy of rabid Cujo. “You got me a guardian angel.”

“Trying to,” Maggie corrected her under her breath, “but MagikMike9917 is a persistent little bitch.”

You laughed and slid ‘Witch Wound’ into the self-help section, “Just get me a mini-taser; they come in some real cute cases now.”

“Mhm.” Maggie briefly glanced over in your direction and then abruptly whirled her head back towards the thick book in your hands, “Not that one.”

You narrowed your gaze as you examined the cover of the book more closely. You had to admit, it was beautiful. The leather was a deep burgundy, and the spine was hand stitched together with gold thread—but it was the carving on the front that really caught your attention. There were two wolves etched into the leather. Their howling snouts pointed towards the full moon above their heads, and their tails entwined around the roots of a large tree sprouting into the sky. Ornate symbols framed the borders of the scene, and a few scattered jewels glinted in the light. It must have taken at least a week to finish. 

You held up the book, your brow curved into a high arch, “This for me too? ‘Cause I’ve already seen The Witcher; pretty sure I got the gist.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie reached blindly for her soup mug of passionflower and mugwort tea. The smell of it was truly rank, but you had grown accustomed to the musky bitterness over the years. “That one’s already sold. They should be dropping by to pick it up anytime now.” She raised her cup towards you, “I told you bestiaries are essential reading.”

“For dungeon masters, maybe,” you hummed as you studied the cover again. The red and citrine jewels in the wolves’ eyes seemed to be winking at you when the light hit them at the just right angle. 

“Which is an essential contribution to society,” Maggie punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp. 

Your lips gave way to a small grin as you set the book to the side. You’d stocked around half the stacks of books when the front door chimed for the first time since your shift started. You looked towards the door and squinted at the increasingly familiar smattering of freckles and moles, “Are you stalking me now? I will tell your dad; I’m not above snitching or stitches.” 

Stiles blinked a few times and then shook his head, holding up his hands, “I swear on my jeep this time it’s a coincidence. I ordered something here like a week ago.”

You folded your arms over your chest, “And your jeep is sacred, is it?”

Stiles nodded solemnly and rested his hand over his chest, “The sacredest.” 

If the muttered cursing and aggressive sipping was anything to go by, Maggie was too busy with her eBay war to be of any help with inventory. Stocking would have to wait. You stood up and glanced over Stiles’s shoulder, “Where’s your sidekick?”

Stiles squeezed one eye almost completely shut and looked off into the void with the other until realization dawned over his face, “You mean Scott?” He snorted and shot you a grin that was loaded with self-pity, “I’m usually the sidekick reference. Always, actually.” 

You nodded and looked down, searching for the culprit of the little head butting into your shin. Gizmo was probably the most ineffective, geriatric guard dog in the entire animal kingdom, but you appreciated the effort. You scooped him up into your arms so that he could better inspect the strange boy who’d invaded his den and nuzzled your nose against the black stripe on top of his head. “They do tend to never shut up.” 

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue—a frequent expression of you were beginning to realize—and then his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Holy shit, I’ve been type-casted.”

“You could do an arthouse film,” you tilted your head, “show people you’ve got range.”

Stiles nodded, considering the idea, “My charming wit and boyish good looks are really holding me back.” He stooped down to scratch behind Gizmo’s ears. Gizmo bristled for a moment, eyeing his hand suspiciously, but he eventually flopped back in your arms after a few curious sniffs. “No one takes me seriously.”

“Uh huh.” You watched Stiles pet Gizmo and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying to remember the last man Gizmo hadn’t bit. She couldn’t recall a single one. Warmth enveloped your face when Stiles looked up and met your gaze. He didn’t appear to think much of it, just turned his eyes towards the ground and stroked Gizmo’s little gray toes. 

You set Giz down, despite his pathetic protests, and turned towards the stockpile of inventory, fighting the urge to bite your nails to the quick, “So, what’d you order, boy wonder?” You looked over your shoulder when Stiles didn’t answer. He was smiling a little, mostly to himself, with his hands shoved in his pockets. Your brows quirked, “What?”

“Nothing.” He groaned a little when you kept looking at him, your brows still cocked, and then shrugged with his hands still fisted in his jacket pockets, “It’s just not so bad, the sidekick thing. It’s not so pathetic when you say it like that.”

You swallowed, a little startled by his honesty even though you were the one who’d insisted upon it. “Order?”

“Right,” he nodded a few times and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a thickass book, wolves on the front, about yea big,” Stiles held his palms almost six inches apart from each other. “Please don’t make me say the name; I’m pretty sure it’s Latin.”

You grabbed the bestiary you’d set aside earlier and looked at the cover again; there was a small inscription just below the tree roots. “It’s Greek, actually.” You brushed your fingers over the indented letters, “φυσιολόγος.”

Stiles shook his head and took his frustration out on the air with a dramatic jerk of his hands, “In English?”

“The Naturalist,” your lips curled into a shrewd smile, “so sorry we don’t carry it in Japanese.”

Stiles pursed his lips and snatched the book out of your hands. “Hilarious. Truly. I don’t just watch anime, y’know. I also like…” he trailed off and scratched at the nape of his neck, “very cool, normal things.”

“Such as?” 

He pulled a face that was distinctly reminiscent of a little kid sticking their tongue out, “Such as shut your face.”

“Wow.” Shaking your head, you returned to your task of shelving books—this one was about the spiritual properties of mushrooms—and made a popping noise with your tongue against the top of your mouth, “You better hope there’s an English translation in there ‘cause consider my mouth officially shut.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Stiles continued quickly, words almost overlapping with the speed of his tongue, before you could take advantage of such low-hanging fruit, “I made sure I could read it before I bought it—being comprehensible is literally the least it can do for 50 bucks plus shipping.” He shook his head and held up the book, “Can you believe the library wouldn’t order it for me?”

“Imagine that,” you chided, “and with all the demand for vintage bestiaries too.”

He dropped his order on top of a rickety writing desk that supposedly belonged to a Beacon Hills’ heretic who died in the 1800s—at least, according to the tag hanging from one of the drawers and Maggie’s generous interpretation of her family history. “D&D is coming back in a big, big way,” Stiles pointed at you and winked with obnoxious flourish, “just you wait.”

You smirked, pointedly ignoring your recurrent childhood obsession with Egyptian and Roman mythology, and smacked the side of the price gun until the sticker tape unjammed, “My instinct is to make fun of you, but I’m afraid the hypocrisy will catch up with me.”

“What?” Stiles glanced around the store and smirked, “Are you one of those new-agey astrology, crystal nerds? How many fingers is my aura holding up right now?”

You gave him a flat look and reached for another book. “We don’t sell crystals, actually. They aren’t that common in ritualistic spell-casting.”

Stiles blinked slowly, “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” You still weren't entirely sure exactly how much of spiritualist-mythical crap Maggie believed. She contradicted herself constantly, and often said things just to make your face pinch in disbelief, but at the same time she still insisted that you keep a protection charm bundle under your bed. The smell of the divination tea, at the very least, was great at warding off unwanted chitchat. “Animal blood is the main ingredient in most of ‘em.”

“That’s…repulsive,” Stiles cringed, restless fingers meandering towards the shelves of books next to you. He pulled out a small illuminated grimoire and flipped through the yellowing pages, pulling a face every so often at some of the more unsavory hex materials. 

You pried the book from his fingers and slid it back into its correct slot. Maggie didn’t actually ask you to organize them; her exact words were, ‘Slap a sticker on ‘em and stick ‘em on a shelf,’ but the idea of such a chaotic setup haunted you until you finally reshelved them all with a revised, occult-specific Dewey Decimal System. “It’s actually just corn syrup and—”

“100% authentic dove juice,” Maggie interrupted from behind the front counter without removing her face from her monitor.

Stiles jerked his head to the side, evidently just realizing that there was someone else in the room with you, and then swiveled back to you with his face stretched out in a toothy grin, “That dove juice discount must save you, like, so much money.”

You watched Stiles, warily and wearily, reach for a meditation journal from one of the heaps by your legs, “I have to stock that.”

Stiles turned the journal over in his hands, “Lemme help.”

You huffed deeply and gestured to the diligently organized bookshelves, “I have a system.”

He gave a staunch shake of his head and hunched down so that he could read the small stickers on the spines, “I owe you—for covering for me.”

You took the journal from his hands and squatted down to the bottom shelf. You quickly found the guided meditation section and managed to squeeze the bulky notebook between ‘Walking the Pagan Path’ and ‘Warding Your Mind' with some aggressive wiggling. You looked up briefly and met Stiles’s eyeline. He was especially lanky from this angle. Lanky and soft, with his layers of sleeves and rounded features. You tucked a loose curl behind your ear and looked back at the line of jewel-toned spines, “How is he? Scott?”

“Better.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the bookshelf to a rhythmic beat that felt familiar, “Exposure therapy is a real pain in the ass.”

“I thought it was ‘low blood sugar.’”

“That too.” Stiles leaned over your head and grabbed another book, and you shivered the soft cotton hem of his jacket skimmed over your face. “He’s hemophobic and breakfastphobic,” he said as he handed you the book. You hummed softly in appreciation as he continued, “It’s a vicious cycle, actually. Dude would totally fall apart without me.”

“That’s nice.” You tipped your chin up towards him and grinned, “Totally bogus, but still nice.”

“I told you.” His smile was smug, but somehow still dopey enough to be charming, “I’m a nice guy.”

Your thighs started to ache from squatting in the same position for so long, so you dropped onto your knees, shivering as your bare skin pressed against the cold hardwood floor. “I’m still not sharing my sacrificial blood discount with you.”

“Guess I have to get a job here, then,” Stiles shrugged and leaned against the bookcase, jerking back a bit when he turned his head and came face-to-face with a yellow-eyed taxidermied owl. He turned it around until the glass eyes were safely pointed in the opposite direction and said, “That way I can drive you nuts all day long and become a master wizard.”

You clicked your tongue; the cluck rang with saccharinely sweet pity, “Sucks that you’re only qualified for the first part.”

“Yeah? How’d you get the job, then? You clearly don’t respect the craft.” Stiles ran his spindly fingers along a row of spines, and you wondered if he could play the piano. He certainly had the hands for it. 

“Mags knew my mom, so…” you chewed on your lip until the metallic tang of copper burst on the tip of your tongue. You abruptly returned your attention to shelving the Wicca section and fiddled with the spines until they were all perfectly in line with each other, “It’s more nepotism than anything else, but I do take the history books home sometimes.”

Stiles looked at you, and the prickling sensation of being seen started slithering through your nervous system again. It took you a few tries to get Greek and Roman Necromancy to slip into the small gap on the shelf in front of you. Stiles crouched down next to you. His mouth was twisted around a sly smile, but you could see the earnestness in his eyes, “Witch training?”

You grinned a little, grateful for the out, “Hardly. I just like the lore.”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ gaze drifted towards the book he ordered; the wolves’ gleaming eyes were almost hypnotic, “me too.” 

“I’d hope so, for 50 bucks.” you nudged his knee with your elbow, and he swayed precariously on his perched toes and then shot you a glare that lacked any actual malice. “There are cheaper D&D monster manuals, y’know.”

He snickered and elbowed you in the ribs, gently but his bony limbs were sharp and unforgiving, “I knew you were a nerd.”

You were tempted to rebut the accusation, but he already had far too much evidence to the contrary. At least, he didn’t know about your Data/Geordi fanfiction phase—and no one ever would, you thought darkly. You’d have to kill them, probably, or at the very least flee the country. “At least I’m not a sucker.” You stood up and brushed off your socks, though there was nothing to be done about the red indentations on your kneecaps from kneeling on oak flooring for so long, “Just how easy would it be to convince you to drop another 50 on a replica Byzantine amulet?”

Stiles held out his hand, shaking it in the air incessantly for far too long. You tilted your head and tried not to smirk at his predicament. The longer you watched him struggle, the more pathetic his pleading became. Eventually, Stiles groaned and pushed himself onto his feet with exaggerated effort, “Obviously not very. Evil spirit didn’t even crack the top 20 on my suspect pool.”

“Got it.” You propped your arm on top of an antique guillotine, bent elbow crooked along the wooden pillory. Stiles stared at the rusted blade and then gawked at your arm. He looked like he was a few seconds away from shoving you out of the way, even though the edge was dull with age and safely secured to the iron frame with thick rope. Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the antique and trailed your fingers over a less forbidding oddity. 

You spun the brass globe a few times and said, “So silver bullets, then? I’m sure there’s some kind of bulk-discount we can work out.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped to your face, “What?”

“You know,” you gestured towards the order he abandoned while buzzing after you like an especially tenacious mosquito, “for all the werewolves running around town. Thought you’d already know that, being a wannabe wizard n’all.” 

“Right.” Stiles’s jaw shut with a click as he ran his hand over his head, “Duh.” He rubbed at his bicep and swallowed a few times before clearing his throat, “Didn’t get to that chapter yet. Clearly, I’ve got a lot of studying to do before I graduate from apprentice to master.” 

You squinted at him, mulling over if you should call him out on his odd behavior or just chalk it up to his usual weirdness. Maggie materialized behind you before you could do either. She placed her hands on your shoulders, squeezing softly, and then shuffled you to the side so that she could join your little circle, “I’m strictly anti-gun violence; the NRA hates me—but we do carry wolfsbane essence.”

“Don’t say essence,” you grimaced.

“We have some wolfsbane goo in the back.” Maggie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pivoted back to you, “Happy?”

“Not even remotely.” You turned towards Stiles, finally grateful for his presence. Usually, you were on your own in your never-ending believer versus non-believer disputes, and Maggie was somehow under the impression that she wasn’t massively outnumbered beyond these four spooky walls. Oddly, Stiles looked lost in thought. The one time you needed his dismissive snark, and he just had to actually consider the opposing side.

“Is this like the dove juice thing?” Stiles watched Maggie’s face closely, astute eyes tracking every minute twitch and flicker in her expression. It was easy to make out all the different pieces of Sheriff Stilinski in his face like this. You could see the calculations running behind his eyes, the strings coming together, the chess pieces moving. The effect was startlingly piercing. “Or is this actually the real deal?”

You stared at him, face scrunched in bewilderment, but Maggie was undeterred, “We only sell the real deal in the back, to the honored few.”

Stiles looked towards you, his right brow raised. You sighed, folding your arms over your chest and flicking your hair over your shoulder, “Real useless, but…yeah. The plants are real I guess.”

Maggie winked, “I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”

You scoffed, “We aren’t friends.”

Stiles frowned, momentarily distracted from his intense investigation of Maggie’s body language, “We aren’t?”

You licked your rapidly drying lips and shook your head slightly, more confused than indignant. Truth be told, you’d expected him to agree with you. You hadn’t known each other for long, and he seemed to be more interested in your connection to Lydia than forming one with you. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wanted to talk to you about anything else. It’d been a long time since anyone wanted to, that’s all. The friends who hugged you at the funeral, they stopped coming around a long time ago, and they still avoided you at school—like you were contagious, like you’d leak radiation and your misery would metastasize in their bone marrow. You still woke up crying sometimes, throat claggy with stubborn shadows, choking on the hollow bones of picked-apart memories—too busy shoveling dirt to consider tomorrow. 

You scratched at your arm absently and rolled your eyes, slowly, so that everyone could see how utterly unaffected you were, “It’s a couple hundred bucks for a few millimeters of emulsified weeds. If we were friends, I wouldn’t even let you buy something so stupid.”

Stiles’s frown quickly curved into a crooked grin, boyishly charming and vexingly sure, “Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

Maggie reappeared through the door to the back room, locking it with one of the many keys dangling from her strawberry lanyard. You didn’t have a clue when she’d disappeared to begin with, but the vial clutched in her hand was far more interesting. It was filled with a thick purple liquid, so dark it was almost black. Maggie held it out to Stiles and laughed at his inquisitive stare, “It’s on the house this time, ‘cause you’re such good friends with my darlingest girl.”

Eventually, Stiles took the vial from her hand. “Yeah, darling,” Stiles smirked and rolled the vial between his long fingers, “‘cause we’re such good friends.” The liquid sloshed slowly, a little like a lava lamp, and you kind of wanted to stuff it down his throat.

“Careful with that,” Maggie blinked at you behind her thick lenses. She wasn’t grinning or winking. It was a little eerie to see her so still, like her body had been snatched by a pod person and it was trying to mimic casual human behavior. “It's potent stuff. Shish-kebab a were with that, and they’ll be dead by sunrise—humans too, obviously, so please don’t stick it in your mouth.”

“If you can even get that close,” Stiles muttered to himself as he held the vial up to his pinched gaze.

“To a werewolf,” you deadpanned, looking between the two of them, searching their faces for any indication of irony. Bat-shit. Your grand total of two friends were both certifiably batty.

Stiles was too busy looking at the back of Maggie’s head to absorb your mockery. Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his stare until your attention was diverted to the dusky orange cast over his skin. You glanced out the window; daylight was rapidly fading. Was it really already almost 8:30? “You should probably head home,” you raised your chin towards the door, “if you don’t want to run into the big bad wolf with a purple goo heavy arsenal.” 

He let out a little laugh, more like a breath really, and muttered, “You have no idea.” Your forehead crinkled as you parsed over whatever the hell that meant, and Stiles shoved the book he ordered into his already overcrowded backpack. “I’ll see you at school.”

Your chin bobbed as you gave him a little nod. You lifted Gizmo from his bed of tasseled meditation cushions, for your own comfort this time, and nosed into his matted fur. Maybe, Stiles was just…really into larping, or maybe he was just…a really dedicated collector of supernatural keepsakes—because there was absolutely no way that you just naturally attracted delusional conspiracy theorists. You’d already met your quota of one the moment you were born. 

“Get home safe.” Stiles’s voice pulled your face from Gizmo’s neck. He lingered against the doorframe, clutching his backpack strap. The corner of his mouth cocked into a tight smile, “No more dead batteries after dark, okay? I’ll kick your ass if you get eaten.”

You took a moment to smile, but once you did, it unfurled over your entire face like sunset coating the store in a golden glow. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you shook your head a little, “I’ll try to restrain myself from killing any more cars.”

“Friends,” Stiles grinned and pointed at you, “we’re totally friends.” He ducked out the door before you had the chance to disagree, but you couldn’t decide if you really wanted to this time. 

You almost dropped Gizmo when Maggie bumped you with your hip. “Who the hell was that?” 

“Stiles. He’s…” you waved your hand in the air and eventually settled on, “a friend.”

Maggie stroked the gray fluff on Gizmo’s cheek, cooed when he rubbed his face against her palm, and then pursed her lips, “Uh huh.”

You shrugged and buried your nose in Gizmo’s neck again, taking solace in the fact that at least half of your face was hidden by silver fur, “So he’s more like a fungus in my life.”

Maggie’s grin was insufferable. Her cheeks dimpled, and her eyes nearly disappeared into happy little crescent moons, “Uh huh.”

You glowered at a stuffed crow perched on top of a water-logged armoire; there was a shine in its beaded eyes that appeared a lot like laughter. “You are the single most irritating person I have ever met.”

It was an admirable trait, never getting upset, never getting offended—but at the moment you wished that Maggie wasn’t so idealistic. She simply gave you a smile that was annoyingly wrought with meaning and took Gizmo from your arms. “Whoever the hell he is, he’s right. Get your ass home before the Wolf Man bites it.”

Maggie wiggled her fingers in the air, and you shoved them away from your face. “I’m going. I’m going.” You paused at the door, gave the store one last look and Gizmo a little good-bye wave, “Seriously, mini-taser, Mags. Prime shipping’s gotta be faster than the spirit realm.” At the very least, a taser might actually have a chance against whatever carnivore was hell-bent on ruining your sophomore year.

[sagasolejma]

I got monkey's paw'ed HARD by HRT

Listen...

ALL I wanted was like A, maybe B cups at max. Seriously. Nothing more. Anything bigger than that just seemed like a hassle. Having big boobs just never seemed appealing to me...

In three days I'll have been on estrogen for just 5 months, and I am this 🤏 close to being able to fill out a C cup, and they still haven't slowed down

5 fucking months

And I know for a fact they aren't anywhere close to stopping cause they're still only at tanner stage 3, they haven't even filled out yet

I'm terrified

It's fucking absurd

Like, what kind of shitty titty inflation fetish fanfic has my life turned into??? just kill me already

I'm almost the same size as my MOM, and I've long surpassed my sister and cousins, so how the fuck did this even happen you might ask??

Well turns out my grandma was a G cup, and all this time everyone in my family just assumed nobody inherited those genes but NOPE they apparently went straight to me

And knowing grandma, she'd probably piss herself laughing if she was around to witness this, in fact she's probably laughing her geriatric ass off in the grave right about now

And like how in the actual fuck am I gonna get through summer??? I'm a chronic boymoder, which has worked fine up until now cause I've been able to wear tight sports bras and baggy hoodies all winter, but what am I gonna do now that it's getting hotter??? Is there a way for me to not out myself as trans while also not dying of heatstroke???

Please help T-T

[bunnidot0rg]

Okay my brain is whirring rn so I haaaaave to post- here’s a lengthy headcanon about Charlie’s family and upbringing.

I feel like Charlie grew up always a quiet kid. Which wasn’t a bad thing, he would still act up and scream and cry like any other kid but it was more concealed. I think both of his parents argued a lot- they were probably quite young to even be parents too, which means he would spend more time with his uncle, who I’d like to think lived in like a crappy trailer, with strangers that came in and out sometimes.

Charlie’s uncle is like a mix of the weirdo uncle you were told to avoid, and that one favourite uncle everyone has. Since Charlie’s family is relatively small, they got very close. His uncle never really treated him like family and instead acted as his mentor, who really shouldn’t have been a mentor. He would cuss and swear around Charlie often, and would retell traumatic and violent stories of his past to Charlie as a young child. His mum would always get very upset if he found Charlie’s dad sent him to his uncle, and when Charlie got older he would sneak out more often to see him. I feel Charlie’s uncle and his mum would clash very often. In the show, Charlie will casually bring up his uncle’s crimes, probably from how desensitised he is either from social media, or just hearing his uncles stories as a child.

Charlie’s uncle didn’t live in a very safe area, and his uncle didn’t really think of his safety. Charlie to him was just that one kid that his brother had by accident. He liked him but that’s all there was to it. Just indifference. I also think he lived a lavish lifestyle full of drugs and drinking, which he never at all hid from Charlie. Sometimes roughhousing that went too far. Charlie’s uncle would also spew masculine ideologies, like not to cry, and often spoke down on people that were different.

I’d like to think his mum actually gave a shit about her son’s upbringing, and his grandma (of mums side) suggested she raised him as a catholic and nurture him more. His grandma was nice too when he saw her, and was the better substitute for his uncle. Though his parents were definitely not cut out to be parents, his mom and grandma were the ones who cared the most compared to his dad, who only cared when he actually remembered his existence. It never really hurt Charlie, but it definitely made him see his dad as less of his parent of more of a person he wasn’t familiar with.

I think Charlie also grew up quite quickly for his age because of his uncle, and also cos he wasn’t being monitored he grew pessimistic even as a child and early on in his teens, which just kinda stuck as an adult. His dad rarely attended parents evening, and could never be relied on to pick him up after school. Because his parents didn’t seem to care, Charlie would start to truant and show up late to school, bunk, or just wouldn’t show up at all. School was bullshit anyways to him, it’s not like he would need any of this. (That’s probably something his uncle would say)

On the instances he did go, it was probably from his mom telling him off when she found out, in hopes she’d get off his ass.

Charlie wasn’t a bad kid. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. It’s not like anyone was motivating him, so who cares? They didn’t, so he didn’t.

He probably made friends with other kids similar to him. Ironically, truanting turned him into a social butterfly, and he made friends, real people that he could actually socialise with instead of his psychopath uncle. This carried on to his young adult years, and Charlie has a lot of friends now, counting on socials and in person too. Charlie spends most of his young adult years and even now at social gatherings.

I’d like to think it was his mom who pushed him to go to the smiling friends charity for work. I see her as like this stern figure who would butt heads with Charlie often, she’d scream at him if she didn’t think she was getting through to him (he’d scream back) and they’d argue a lot, but she has a genuine deep love for him and he knows it.

I think as Charlie got older and socialised more with other people, the less time he spent with his uncle. He didn’t love him any less though, and still thinks of him very highly and fondly, even thought everyone around him can tell he’s a psycho.

Charlie doesn’t like to bring up his family to friends. Not even to his girlfriend, leaving his background a mystery. The only reason being is that he knows that he didn’t grow up like other children, and doesn’t want to be judged for it, almost out of embarrassment. He gets very defensive too.

He loves his mum though, and she still calls often to make sure he’s okay and still breathing. He doesn’t talk to his dad at all to be honest, his parents split some time ago. Rarely will he call, and Charlie dreads talking to him because they don’t have anything to talk about. He’s a stranger to his own kid.

He never told any of his family that he died.

TL;DR Charlie is a mummies boy.

[somewhereincairparavel]

omg i have to ask platonic duo for my fave underrated friendship hazel and piper 😊 maybe piper takes her to a modern mall and hazel is just in awe 🤔

“Girls day out!”

- Platonic! Piper McLean × Hazel Levesque

Author's note: ugh this is so creative what. You're a genius cyn. Hazel and Piper my underrated pookie duo. Also, this turned out, much longer than I expected damn. Also can I just say that this fic reminds me so much of Max and eleven from stranger things?

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"How'd you like this?" Hazel asked as she held up an old looking grey cardigan. Piper rolled eyes. Typical Hazel who loves to dress up like a grandma from the 40's. (Well, technically speaking, she was a grandma from the 40's, but that's like, besides the point).

Piper never cared much about dressing up, but when your mom's the goddess of fashion, you can't help but pick up a few things here and there."I think it's time you changed style, Hazelnut". Hazel gave her a pointed look.

"Don't call me that. Unless you want me to call you princess pretty pants, yknow daughter of Aphrodite and all" Hazel said smugly.

Don't you dare." Piper glared as she threw one of the coat hangers at her, which Hazel narrowly missed. "Don't call me hazelnut then!"

"Fair enough. We have a deal" Hazel turned her gaze miserably towards her grey cardigan. Piper followed her gaze, and sighed. "Don't worry, I'll help you find your new style, you're lucky you have the daughter of the fashion goddess to help you out" she winked. Piper led Hazel towards the the floral aisle. Hazel's mouth was gaping, there were so many exotic looking clothes of so many colours, they certainly didn't have such a rainbow-esque wardrobe in the 40's. "Just look through these piles of dresses, I have a feeling floral is your pattern" Piper adviced.

Hazel nodded as she skimmed through the heaps of clothes lazily draped in the hanger. She tried dress after dress, most of them ranging from bad to meh. Until she came across a beautiful pink floral glowy skirt. She knew it was the one, the moment she saw piper's beaming gaze. "Oh my gods Hazel, I can practically feel my mother frolicking in approval, this is your dress. It brings out your curls!" Piper exclaimed bobbing up and down. Hazel smiled in contentment as she scanned herself in the mirror, she usually felt insecure of her style, they were all just greys and browns, they matched her gloomy mood, but with Piper's help, she found the clothes she felt happy and comfortable in.

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As they paid, Piper pulled Hazel towards the arcade, "You CANNOT go to the mall and NOT play in the arcade!" Hazel blinked. "What's an arcade? Nico talks about it a lot, Is it some kind of war competition?" Piper stared at her in shock. "Sometimes, I seriously forget that you don't know this stuff". She went to the the VR controls, and made Hazel sit on one of those fluffy chairs. The lady on the counter set up the VR system on her

"Is this your first time on the VR system, Darling?" The lady asked.

"Yes. How'd you know that?" Hazel replied quickly

"I can tell by the way you're squirming, don't worry, love, this is completely fun and painless"

(Why does she sound like a doctor?)

Piper gave Hazel a reassuring look, before the VR system had begun, hazel was slightly gliding in her chair, it was a little silly for Piper to watch, but she hoped hazel was having a good time. 10 minutes laterHazel stood up from her chair, and almost slipped, but caught herself.

"Sooo?" Piper asked, giving her a look of anticipation. Hazel beamed. "It was AWESOME! I mean, it was a little woozy at first but then, I felt like I was in a rollercoaster, but then I saw like these weird dinasours interrupting my ride? It felt so rea-"

Piper laughed lightly listening to her rambling like a little kid. It dawned on her how how much of her childhood Hazel had lost. This stuff was technically enjoyed when you were 7 years old, but Piper was determined to make this day memorable for her.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

"Ugh. Why won't this thing fucking jam!" Piper cursed as she racked the gumball machine. Hazel winced, possibly at her use of the word "fuck"

"Uhm Piper, what if the glass breaks? Can't we just get someone to do it for us?" Hazel asked, nervously looking around to see if anyone is watching.

"Chillax. You have the charmspeaker with you, I'll just charmspeak us out of trouble in case anything happens." Piper struggled and managed to break the glass. All colours of gumballs shot out of the the metal.

"HEY! YOU! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE UPTO?!" One of the workers yelled pointing to them. Hazel gave Piper an "I told you so!" Look. Piper sighed, and walked towards him. "Hey, you just forgot that it was me who broke the glass, according to you, the glass broke on its own, isn't that right?" The man's eyes glazed over as he muttered, "Y-yes. Yes the gumball machine broke due to external forces. You both are free to go and take as many gumball as you wish" Piper winked at Hazel as she collected a few gumballs and some for Hazel.

"Pipes, this feels wrong.." Hazel said as she took the gumballs and popped one in her mouth hesitantly.

"It's not like we do this everyday right? Hazel, we fight monsters everyday, we dont ever get to have fun like this, besides It's the gumball machine's fault for not working well like it should be" Piper huffed stashing 3 gumbals into her mouth. "And now, we get cotton candy-"

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

All in all, the day ended with both of them being chased by a monster who was disguised as a cotton candy supplier, but hey? It was worth it.

(Yes, Piper still smuggled some cotton candy for Hazel and herself, og queen fr)

[goodluckclove]

Storytime: Holy Shit Going No Contact Was A Really Good Idea, Actually

TW: offhanded mentions for abuse and neglect, general parental bullshit

Okay so people were saying they're down for this so here I go.

A little context for those who don't know: I'm an adult child of pretty severe emotional and psychological abuse, as well as like comical degrees of neglect that I've been making up for over the course of the past year for so. I say "comical" not because it's funny, but because if it was depicted in like a YA novel critics would pan it for being unrealistic. My mom convinced me that doctors don't actually like it when you get checkups and get mad at you for "wasting their time", so I didn't see a doctor for like eight or so years. That's on the low end of how fucked these people are. My parents are both alcoholics and my mom is a diagnosed narcissist (she doesn't know this, but I do because my long-time psychologist was her psychologist first before she decided she was "done with therapy". He told me this after like four years as a part of his attempt to get me to realize I was in a deeply fucked situation, ultimately saving my life in a very literal sense - but that's another story). I'm not saying you can't be both of those things and not be a good person, but I am saying she did not choose to go down that particular path.

I went no contact shortly after I got married to a person who was able to see that my parents were both pretty mean to me most of the time in ways I forced myself to process as humor. They sent like one weird card before we moved and now they don't have my new address or phone number.

Unfortunately I'll still occasionally hear random updates about them - mainly from my older sister, who was the object of my mom's obsessive, manipulative, parent-ifying "love" before she left home at 18 and I became the new Golden Goose. I don't like this. I wish she would stop doing this. I asked her before, but I guess she forgot. Or maybe part of the shell shock from the damage of our childhood is that she just needs to tell someone who would understand in a more primal way than her fiancee. I don't know. She pretty much raised me when I was younger so I guess this is what I'm giving her in return.

A couple of days ago she called me and casually mentioned the latest scrambling my parents are doing. They're moving in with my grandma so she can keep living in the home she raised her family in. They're not kicking out my autistic brother anymore, they're actually bringing him with them. I don't think he has a choice. They're also bringing the family dog they've neglected even worse than they did me, despite how my grandma absolutely insisted she would never want a pet. They're going to turn my kind of run-down childhood home into a rental for extra income. My parents are landlords to be. Cool cool cool.

A lot of this is about money. I have never been comfortable talking about money - probably more so than other people. I never had it explained to me. It wasn't displayed or handled in a way that made sense in my mind. My mom complained and lamented about bills to me all the time but she also had maybe four Prada purses. It didn't make sense.

Something she told me a lot about were the details of my grandmother's will - like, from as young as maybe 16. My grandma is indeterminately wealthy in a way I don't really understand and can barely even guesstimate. She owns her own house, remodeled it, bought my uncle a house, bought my childhood home when my parents almost got kicked out and they paid her the mortgage ever since. She paid for all my siblings (except for me since I dropped out) to go to college. She has an amount of money. I have no idea how much since she's pretty buttoned up - loving, but reserved - which I was told is just a generational thing for some Japanese people. I mean she has the right. She spent like a year or two in a concentration camp as a little girl, she has the fucking right.

But yeah I was told more than a few times that I have a big inheritance for after grandma dies. My mom never told me how much but stressed that it was a lot. I didn't really know why she was telling me this. I actually felt like she shouldn't be telling me this. It made me feel sad and dirty to hear her describe it as something I should be excited for. She also mentioned a lot that I was the only grandchild in the will, and not my three step-siblings that I've known since birth.

Once again - this was NOT something I wanted to know. I had no idea what to do with that information. I tried not to think about it.

Fast forward a couple of years and I'm married and we just bought a house. So before you officially buy a house there's a point where an inspector looks everything over and gives you the details - you know, so you can make an informed decision. The inspection we got for the first house we almost bought informed us that the whole thing was hand-renovated and pretty much fucked to the point where if we bought it we'd have to replace the walls. We didn't buy that house.

The inspector for the second house we loved confirmed it was old. Most of the houses in Portland are old. But it seemed pretty much fine. The only issue was some moss on the roof and a few loose shingles, he said. So we bought it.

Turns out the roof is not good. It's very not good. And we have to replace it before October or else we'll lose our home insurance, and ultimately the home itself. Stressful! I found a pretty knowledgeable roofer and he quotes 14k for the treatment. Add that to the 10k we were already planning on spending on refinancing - a separate financial obstacle course for home owners that Riley was pursuing, since the fiances are their domain - and we were both at a loss as to what to do.

Ultimately I reluctantly decide to see if my grandma would give me part of my inheritance early. Or all of it? I debate how to phrase it for a night. I didnt want to assume how much she was planning on leaving me. I didn't really like to think about how she left specifically me anything in terms of money.

But that didn't end up being an issue! Because when I called my grandma and explained the situation, how we were hit with like three major financial blows back to back and were just hoping to get some aid until things stabilized in a few months, she casually mentioned that I'm actually not in her will. None of the grandkids are!

I immediately stammered out a series of no no nevermind then, but she stopped me and explained how she has a "small emergency fund" for situations like this and asks how much I needed. I say I'm not comfortable with that, but she won't drop the subject. She says the roof is 14k so she'll just give me that. She says 14k won't be a dent in her "small emergency fund". I have absolutely no idea what my grandma's financial situation is.

Did you know if you're given only Goodwill clothes for all of your formative years you're likely to be unable to buy new clothes at even a Target without feeling lost and sick to your stomach? Did you know that if you take Lithium they won't let you sell your blood? Do you know the easiest ways to shoplift food?

I don't think my grandma knows any of that and at this point I don't want to tell her.

I accept the check. I thank her. Riley thanks her. We both cry a lot for a lot of the morning because this is just a lot and it's very confusing. Riley says they've never accepted that amount of money before and would never imagine it coming from a family member. I say my grandma has been doing shit like this for my whole life.

But in the back of my head I'm reeling. I don't consider myself a materialistic person, but I can't help but ask why did my mom lie to me? Why did she lie, and continue to push the lie even when she saw it made me uncomfortable? Why did she bring it up when I'd get mad at my siblings as a way to force me to put aside my feelings?

It's just such a random thing to make up and double down on. Triple down, even. And I understand this whole mess comes from a pretty lucky position - we were able to buy a house and get financial aid to keep the house at a crucial time. That's lucky. We're really lucky. But why the fuck was she keeping up this bit for so long?

She could've never mentioned it and I wouldn't be upset about not being in the will. Frankly I probably wouldn't notice. But holy shit I carried so much stress for years over being the one grandchildren in the will that I had no clue how to navigate. I debated telling my siblings but after all of us were told that we should consider ourselves blood-related, hearing that our own grandmother drew a distinction sounded devastating.

I can't think of a reason why my mom would push a lie this random but so big for so long. It wasn't for me, clearly. I'm not upset that I'm not going to get a fucking jackpot when my grandma dies. I was never really able to wrap my mind around that being a thing. I'm just fucking baffled that my mom was so completely delusional for my whole life and I just followed along for so long.

So long! I was so unbelievably loyal to her despite every attempt she made to drag me into the void. The day before I got married I was telling her over video call that I didn't have a right to be unhappy not working while I recovered from my first major medication shift in years. She said, even though I am the only child of four to pay rent in their own apartment, that I should be grateful for my soon-to-be wife because "without them I'd be homeless".

Fuck that. Fuck that and fuck her. With the stories I have I could ruin my parents in my extended family's eyes forever. The only thing that keeps me from doing that is knowing that it would hurt my Grandma more to know that she wasn't able to step in while it was actually happening. And she's done so much for me and our family that I don't want her to carry that in the end of her life.

It was one lie that really made me realize some things, though. The best thing I ever did for myself was cut contact with my parents. If I didn't cut contact - if I didn't move states - I would almost guaranteed be dead. This is not an exaggeration. It was fucking messy.

But I got out. I have a wife and a few close friends, a roof over my head and some cats darting around my feet. Before we moved I was terrified of my parents showing up at our old apartment. I used to spiral imagining mom screaming outside the door. I tried to plan with Riley what we'd do if that happened. One night I claimed I wanted to take a boxing class "so I can know what it feels like to get really hit and I won't be afraid of it anymore".

I'm not scared now. These are sick people and I've spent more than enough time lamenting how awful my life would be if I continued not noticing that. I was thinking my mom was unable to perceive me as my own person, and now I'm convinced she never saw me or my sister as people at all. We were just little dollies she could whisper all her traumas to.

I hope my sister cuts contact too. I told her about the will thing and said that I'm pretty sure my parents would use that as a way to keep relationships with their remaining children. I said she should probably consider that if she decides to cut ties.

Honestly, I won't blame her if she does that and decides to stay in contact. It's a hard world out there. But I hope she does anyway. She just bought a house too and is about to get married to a man with a family infinitely more loving than ours ever was. I tell her to consider them her family. After the shit she's seen that's the least she deserves.

[saltygilmores]

Fr Lorelai's parenting was so questionable sometimes and not just because of the advice but in general:

1) she let her teenage daughter consume so much caffeine and was even proud of it

2) she let her drive underage and get into an accident (the deer)

3) when Rory came late to the exam and wasn't allowed to take it, Lorelai made a scene and demanded that her daughter be the exemption to the rules because she is so smart and special

4) went on to date Rory's English teacher like that won't leave a mark on the kid

5) pretends to be such a "cool mom" that's not afraid to talk about sex with her daughter except she isn't. The only time birth control is brought up it's a punishment for staying out late with her boyfriend. Which she proceeds to treat her coldly and distantly over for the next week, as if she had never pulled anything like this when she was Rory's age. Like if you're genuinely that worried that she will have sex just ask her?? Take her to the gynecologist? Once she does tell her she may be ready to have sex, Lorelai hangs her head in sadness and acts like she's at a funeral.

6) as you keep pointing out, she is waaay too involved in Rory's relationships and drama and makes it very clear which boyfriend she prefers. Pushes Rory to stay with her boyfriend when she is already unhappy with her relationship, because Lorelai knows that their relationship is so tame she doesn't have to worry about her getting pregnant. She would rather Rory be in a sexless unhappy relationship than a happy one that potentially involves sex.

7) lets Rory drive a car that her 16-year-old boyfriend with no qualifications built from scratch.

8) get ridiculously overprotective (I broke my arm at 4 and no one slept in the room with me to my knowledge) when her friend crashes the car and says she wants to kill him, while not even reprimanding Rory for letting someone else drive her car.

9) throws a fit when Rory applies to other schools than "her dream school" which has an acceptance rate of like 4%

10) pretends like she's such a best friends first mom but she's not. I mean she is but as long as Rory is doing everything she wants and agrees with all her opinions 100%. But any time Rory does something Lorelai doesn't like, she gets silent treatment- when Rory stays out late with Dean and Lorelai doesn't talk to her properly till the episode after, when she does sleep with Dean (🤢) Lorelai ships her off to Europe with her grandma as if Rory was a troubled 16-year-old not an adult and doesn't talk to her all summer or after she decided to take a semester off at Yale. Both were such Emily things to do and the Yale thing is especially vile because she says to Luke that she will only tell Rory about their engagement once Rory "fixes things" aka does what Lorelai wants her to do. It's so clear she was punishing her with silence.

I am ranting to you because you said that you love to discuss how terrible Lorelai is but if it's too much I apologize.

First off pleeeaseee never apologize for sending me asks or DMS even if they are 25 pages long! And "Reasons Why Lorelai Gilmore Is The Worst" is my favorite game. I wanna play! Here's another one of my biggest grievances! Lorelai does not respect Rory's self agency (is that the right term?) Example: Rory trying to impart on Lorelai that she doesnt blame Jess for crashing the car and that the injury was minor and not bothersome to her and that Lorelai is making way too big a stink over it. Lorelai fights her at every turn like Rory is a small child who can' possibly know what she's talking about and doesn't respect her opinions on anything if what Rory feels doesn't align with Lorelai. I believe Lorelai even tried to one up the doctor who tells them (lorelai and rory) in the hospital that the injury is pretty minor and Lorelai is like no, it must be worse than it is because Jess was driving and he was trying to murder my child! (she ALSO states "the accident would never have happened if Dean was behind the wheel", why, just because she thinks Dean is dreamy he's also not a 17 year old inexperienced driver who may not even have a full license yet and is prone to accidents? (she also gleefully and wistfully recalled how when she was first dating Christopher he drove recklessly on purpose and crashed his car with them in it). Countless other times Rory has tried to impart on Lorelai how she feels about something or someone and Lorelai just fucking steamrolls her. Rory wastes too much oxygen trying to convince Lorelai that Jess is a good person and she should give him a chance. But Lorelai has decide she doesn't like him so Rory must be wrong and not know what she's talking about. You know, I don't blame Rory for being such a damn doormat sometimes, I mean, standing up for herself to Lorelai never gets her anywhere so why bother? To number 9, The episode I just finished is a prime example! Lorelai had a literal meltdown in PUBLIC screaming at her parents, because Rory had the audacity to accept an invitation from her grandparents to merely tour a school and in her half baked mind this was some kind of conspiracy cooked up btwn the three of them to spit in Lorelai's face? Rory isn't allowed to go to any college but the one Lorelai picked out for her? Rory was so frightened of Lorelai's reaction to her visiting Yale that she and Richard and had to go behind Lorelai's back to plan the trip and Rory was practically bracing for impact when she had to tell Lorelai. And then is angry like "why did you go behind my back to arrange this?" Jesus Christ. Even Mrs Kim laid out options for Lane when it was time for college. To number 5: Lorelai said "I got the good kid" when she overheard Rory tell Paris she was still a virgin and then treated her to a trip to the mall. This is fun.

[horpyna]

the beginning of that week was full of suspense and yet life was going on until it didn't. on 23.02.2022 i was donating blood. it was my first time donating blood. i found out that my natal documents probably state my blood type wrong. i would have gotten a free blood test results in a few days and found out the truth. i never came back to pick them up.

on 24.02.2022 couldn't sleep bc the news about my blood type bewildered me. that night there were three loud explosions in my city. it wasn't confusing at first bc there were building sight near us and it would usually make a lot of noise. but nothing like those explosions. also, there's no building at night. after the third explosion i checked twitter and everything became clear. the situation was much worse in the East too. Grandma was already awake and worried. i stayed with her during day. we waited for what's coming next.

on 25.02.2023 i was suppose to have a job interview. i applied for it during winter holidays. i never went there. first they've called to postpone then i wasn't in the city anymore.

I didn't have a plan for life anymore, it became apparent the same morning. the front was moving closer from the East, there was no certainty as to when would be our turn. i was afraid that our local government would surrender the city if russians arrive. i was genuinely planning to go to first aid course, now that it was more important that ever. i was even ready to go stand in queue for military training course. i couldn't tell my mom though. i knew she would be horrified. i also knew that have i decide to join the defence forces, they would be left alone. my mom would be left alone to look after my sister and my grandma and my dad. so i stayed by her side. I hoped it would be just for a while. it was still relatively quiet in odesa.

they we hoped it wouldn't be long. we hoped that it wouldn't take so many lives, both civilians and defenders. but it did. and it's been 2 years of full-scale war, 10 years of war for our rights to exist as Ukraine. Brave men and women of Armed Forces of Ukraine have been holding the defence for this long. im grateful for each day that i live through in safety. it's never a granted thing now, it wasn't for 10 years. there's always a price paid in blood, health or someone's life.

I don't know how long it will last, but im hopeful. that we will win, and we will heal after all. and then we will prosper again all odds.