#AND NEITHER CAN I DO IT AT 8AM AND IVE BEEN BUSY FOR THE ENTIRE REST OF THE DAY EXTREME EYE TWITCHING

[ame-to-ame]

Creative writing inspiration hit pls do not hit right now but also stay for when I'm. Less busy.

[early-sxnsets]

Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43151156

Chapter 3/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 1553

Chapter Summary: Baz takes Simon's shitpost text a step further, and the outcome ends up spreading a few rumors.

SIMON

bi-sammy: sammy would still fuck huxley if he looked like the fish from shape of water

I grin smugly at my screen, sitting in a dark room with nothing shining but my mobile. The shutters stay shut, and the light from the bottom of the doorway barely filters into the room. It’s just me, this scratchy blanket, and Baz, somewhere else in England on another screen. I absolutely adore that.

gaystrell: why would you say something so controversial yet so brave.jpg

Sometimes, I catch myself smiling. Other times, I elect to ignore how real it feels. It’s weird, given that it feels like I’m just chatting with someone who I see everyday. The casualness of this reminds me of texting Penny in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Except, given the current time, it could be interpreted as more intimate than that of a friend’s text.

8am on a Saturday is usually a time reserved for comfort. For staying warm with someone you care about. Instead, I’m just messaging Baz.

bi-sammy: because im right

bi-sammy: hear me out here ive got a brilliant idea

gaystrell: whoever taught you the definition of a brilliant idea was clearly misleading you

bi-sammy: dont be an arse until youve heard it

bi-sammy: wanker

gaystrell: you’re truly proving your point

bi-sammy: ANYWAY

bi-sammy: shape of water au

bi-sammy: thats all

gaystrell: i’m appalled.

gaystrell: hold on.

I don’t think much of it. Occasionally, he disappears for an hour to two. I don’t bother asking, assuming it’s none of my business, but I do tend to worry a bit. I hope he’s alright.

After clicking off my phone, my head settles against my pillow as my eyes fall shut.

There’s something about this. There’s something about him. It’s a bit hard to pinpoint what it is, but the overwhelming feeling of comfort I have in the notifications I get from him just answering my bullshit is incredibly welcomed. He’s semisweet. I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier, but he’s a fantastically bitter person.

My head slowly turns over, eyes opening and straining in the darkness.

I hate my empty room.

I hate the absence of comfort--I hate the plainness of these walls.

I want to say I hate my foster dad, but I also feel like I’m not allowed to say that. Not because the system will take me again and throw me back (even though I could have left a year back, if I was still in it). Instead, I feel like I shouldn’t hate him. Theoretically, I should be thankful for what I have. I’m not in a boy’s home, and I haven’t been since I was 11, but the remnants remain. The fights don’t go away, and neither do the weeks of starvation.

Still, I sort of despise living here under Davy.

That’s what he makes me call him. His name. His nickname. Not dad; of course not dad. He’s had me in his care for roughly six years, but he’s still Davy to me.

Shitty fucking Davy, with his strict curfews and practically using me as a housemaid because he’s too cheap to care for himself.

Shitty fucking Davy, not letting me add anything to my room because the day I turn 18, I’m out of here until his next kid (and cheque, apparently) come in. Told me I’d wreck the walls and ruin his furniture if I did put anything on it, too.

So that’s what I’ve got. Blank walls, blank furniture, blank everything. It’s like a jail cell for a bedroom, and everything I’ve got to show for myself is in a backpack and two dresser drawers/

But, at least, I own my mobile.

Every summer job, mixed with odds and ends shit and whatever I can do for my bill. It’s all mine, and Davy can’t fucking touch it.

Maybe that’s why, when I feel it buzz against my chest, it makes me feel more alive. It’s a reminder of all that work just to be able to talk to someone freely.

Arguably, the best feeling in the goddamn world.

I grab it and flip it over. It’s just an email about uni.

Fuck.

I end up scrolling through tumblr for a little while, doing nothing but liking and reblogging a thing here or there. It takes a little while before a little drop down falls from the top of my screen.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r7Wkwj7MSFk0--DgquHGhYVBbqneEYq0J01t0uMRmxA/edit?usp=sharing

gaystrell: feel the need to apologize before you click the link, but then again, you asked for this hell

When I click on it, it pulls up a doc titled just “crackfic”, and I’m floored with the first sentence alone.

“Fuck my fish ass harder, daddy.”

My hand flies up, covering my mouth as I practically wheeze as quietly as possible. A few paragraphs in and I’m nearly crying into my palm, muffling my laughter as I read through pages upon pages of the most ridiculous fic I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.

I check the word count out of pure curiosity, and it somehow makes me laugh harder.

bi-sammy: holy fucking shit

bi-sammy: i swear to god if you don’t post that i will

gaystrell: already in the process of making the archive post

gaystrell: i seriously believe you underestimate my sincere ability to be the biggest dick on the street

bi-sammy: i dont know whether or not u meant that as ur literal dick or the big dick energy in making that a post but id probably agree with you in both

bi-sammy: tag me in the post pls i want to be the first to reblog it

gaystrell: you’re a ridiculous, sad, little man

gaystrell: of course i’ll tag you

Within minutes, it’s uploaded with the absolute worst slew of Archive tags attached to it, and as soon as he tags me in his post, I tap the notification.

Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Word Count: 3,192

Summary: Fish!Huxley and Sam get it on Shape of Water style

@bi-sammy this is your fault (you're welcome)

I immediately slam like and pull up reblog, rapidly typing out my response before posting.

absolute madman. cant believe youve done this. i trust you with my entire life.

As usual, he's quick to reblog back.

anything for the absolute pain in my life x

Smiling shamelessly, I ride on the moment's high as our conversation stays out in the world. I quite enjoy this version of his softness. The public, taunting replies to mine. In all this time of following him, I can't really recall him ever being this friendly with anyone but me.

Makes me feel special. Maybe too much so.

BAZ

The jarring shock of the seemingly endless notifications rattles me momentarily speechless.

It isn't even 15 minutes after I'd replied to Snow and there's already a few people reblogging it with comments about him and I. A quick “i ship y'all’ to “powermove of the century”. Each make me flush deeper as the replies flood in.

If I were to be practical, I'm aware that I shouldn't be so flustered over the concept of us being a couple. It's most likely my overactive, sad, lonely imagination, but the idea of being loved just makes me blush. Especially since it's someone who doesn't seem to absolutely loathe me.

gaystrell: are you reading these?

bi-sammy: the what?

bi-sammy: i have. nothing to read. i cant read.

gaystrell: use your two remaining brain cells look at the notes for the crackfic

bi-sammy: holy shit

bi-sammy: im cackling

A notification pops up, making me snort this time. I pull up the post and send it off to him without a second thought.

gaystrell: sent a post

gaystrell: “sounds like something huxley would do for sam”

bi-sammy: stop im gonna piss myself shits too fucking funny

I pull it back up, scrolling down to reblog and adding a quick reply that, in all honesty, I should have thought out more. Secretly, part of me is glad that I sent it.

huxley wishes he was this smooth ;)

Within seconds, replies flood in from everywhere. From jokes about Snow and I possibly dating to the concept of Huxley writing (purposefully) shitty homoerotica about himself as a fishman. I quite like the conversation about the latter, while the former makes my chest knot in ways inexplicable.

Going through the notes makes me smile, even if it's mildly embarrassing. The amount of times I've seen the eyes emoji used is definitely excessive, but still somewhat welcomed.

Even my archive has a few comments already, although more based around the fic itself. More ironically, though, is the one person who probably took it seriously and just commented, “Nice fic!” I love the abundance of shameless appreciation for obscure fanfiction in the depths of this community.

Snow's messages roll down my mobile screen as I'm checking the comments, continuously replacing the previous message for the top slot.

bi-sammy: mate

bi-sammy: i love you

bi-sammy: also every time you reblog something of mine i get like 5 followers

bi-sammy: if you mention me i get 10

bi-sammy: youre???????????? a god????????

bi-sammy: can i marry you????????????

I slowly close my laptop, eyes on my phone with an absolutely gleeful grin.

gaystrell: when and where?

[sunshineyoongles]

Sweet as a Flower(shop)- a yoonmin fanfic

Hi, this is the first fic ive written in actual years so here’s hoping i havent gone all rusty, huh?

AO3

When Jimin sets up his flowershop business in the space below Yoongi's flat, neither knew how much it would change their lives.

alternatively:

Yoongi has the opposite of a green thumb and florist Jimin despairs (but it's okay because they're both falling in love) ____________________________________________________

Min Yoongi was aware of the new flower shop that had opened up in the shop below his apartment- oh trust him. He was well aware. Painfully aware. For the past three weeks, he had been woken up at 8am on the dot by hammering and drilling whilst the store was being renovated. His (asshole) friends thought it was a blessing that something managed to get Yoongi into a somewhat healthy sleep pattern, but he and his under-eye circles begged to differ.

This particular morning, however, greeted him differently.

Opening a cautious eye and preparing himself for the shock of power tools, Yoongi instead found sweet, sweet silence. He had woken up naturally. Bliss. He flops back onto his bed with a relieved groan, body going limp and becoming one with his mattress.

Not too long after his phone alarm starts wailing, sending him bolt upright. Below the large numbers of 8:30 AM (he’d woken up on his own before 8? He entirely blamed the builders from downstairs for messing with his body clock that much), Yoongi saw a notification pop up.

‘Mums birthday. Don’t forget a present.’

…In hindsight he should have set that reminder for yesterday because now it was his mums birthday and (it takes his sleepy brain slightly longer than he’s proud to admit to work out) he has approximately…two hours to get ready, get a gift, and drive to the place he had agreed to meet her at for breakfast.

In other words, he was royally fucked. Don’t get him wrong, he adored his mother! But between the unnaturally early mornings forced on him recently and late nights at the studio, Yoongi hadn’t been quite on top form.

He drags himself out of and starts up the coffee machine, leaning against it and smacking his lips as he tries to think of something to do. His eyes search over the room to see if there’s anything he can use as a makeshift gift while blaming amazon for the lateness of the ‘real’ gift.

There’s nothing. Unless you count the scarf in the corner but first of all its spring and second of all Yoongi has a sneaking suspicion his mother had bought it for him a few years ago… best not to risk it.

The coffee machine beeps and Yoongi takes a well needed sip, closing his eyes to enjoy the caffeine as well as the new silence in the flat now that flower shop has (hopefully) finished being done up.

It hits him.

Flower shop. Flowers make good presents, they look expensive and it’s right underneath his feet… he could even try to weasel a discount by telling the owner he lived upstairs and complaining about the noise. That would buy him enough time to get her a proper present, one closer to what she really deserved in time for the dinner that evening.

He grins proudly to himself and kisses the side of the mug.

“I can always count on you to save me when I’m in trouble…”

With a speed that can only be achieved with the threat of a mother’s disappointment, Yoongi was showered and dressed and on his way downstairs. He was dressed in his least ripped pair of jeans and a jumper she had gotten him for his birthday the year before. Perfect mother-pleasing material.

He pats his pockets to make sure he has his keys and phone as he walks around the side of the building to see the shop just being opened up. A short boy arranging some displays on a table outside so they catch the dingy morning light as well as possible.

“Oh, thank god… Yo, you. I know I’m a little early but honestly you’ve been keeping me up early every day for the past- a-ah.” His words die in his throat as the person setting up turns to look at him, gloved hands reaching up to brush coppery hair out of his eyes and leaving a smudge of dirt on his forehead. His eyes are wide and surprised, plump lips slightly parted. Yoongi swallows slightly, not sure if looking that pretty was actually legal at this time in the morning. Especially when you’re wearing ugly gardening gloves and have mud on your face.

“Goodness, I’m sorry! You surprised me there!” The boy giggles and awkwardly gestures to the door, “were you looking to buy? I’ll be in in just a moment once I’ve finished here...”

The reminder of why he was here shakes Yoongi out of his stupor and he nods, mumbling a quick ‘thanks’ before shuffling inside to see if he could find his mum’s favourites. True to his word, the florist steps in a few minutes later, visibly excited to have a customer already in a way that reminds Yoongi slightly of a puppy.

“I didn’t expect to have customers so soon! The display must have really worked-” he continues babbling as he ducks behind the counter and Yoongi can practically picture a wagging tail behind him.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for, sir?” The boy asks, and judging from his face and voice, Yoongi assumes he can’t be much older than a teenager.

“Yeah… It’s my mum’s birthday and she loves orchids… so…” He shrugs, not sure what else to say about the flower.

“Orchids, hm?” The boy glances around the shop, tapping his lower lip in thought in a way that drew Yoongi’s eye. Did he mention how plump they were? Probably. It was also probably worth mentioning again.

The florist looked back at him after a moment of contemplation, “What’s your price range? I have a few ideas about bouquets that would be good with orchids, or even just some nice potted orchids?”

“Actually, kid, I was hoping to speak to your manager? Or the owner of this place?”

Yoongi looked at the kid as he just nodded earnestly.

“Yup, that’s me!”

“…You… You own this place?” Yoongi stared, taken aback for a moment. When had tiny, baby children started running businesses?

“Mm… It’s been my dream for quite some time since I graduated… so what did you want to talk to me about?” he meets Yoongi’s gaze and smiles encouragingly.

“Uh, well I live upstairs so…” At that, the Kid’s (technically not a kid?) smile widens until his eyes disappear into crescents and- was that a slightly crooked front tooth? Oh god that’s adorable. Yoongi groaned internally in defeat, unable to bring himself to complain at his new neighbour and dampen his mood for a small discount.

“Oh! I’d been meaning to introduce myself, here” He starts running around, grabbing flowers and ribbon from all over the shop while introducing himself at lighting speed “, I’m Park Jimin, but as we’re neighbours you can just call me Jimin- I’m actually so glad you came to me first because I’ve been worrying all morning about what time you would wake up and if I knocked to introduce myself and woke you I’d feel awful! Oh, Goodness I didn’t even think about the builders! They didn’t annoy you, did they? I hadn’t even considered it, I’m so-“

“Yah, Jimin, It’s fine. They uh… They didn’t wake me up.” The lie hurt his heart to make but the relief that crossed over Jimin’s face made up for it. “I’m Min Yoongi… but I guess Yoongi is fine…”

Jimin beams at him and starts wrapping up the bouquet, something Yoongi hadn’t paid much attention to until now. It looks… expensive.

“Jimin… how much will that cost? Y’know, roughly…?” He rubs the back of his neck, not wanting to look like he’s a cheapskate but also not wanting to bankrupt himself just before paying for breakfast.

“Oh this? Free of charge. Think of it as a gift to a good neighbourship between us!” He holds out the bouquet, smiling as if he wasn’t just letting at least £40 fly out of his pocket for the sake of friendship. If not more.

“I can’t accept that. Firstly, you can’t lose money on your first customer. Secondly, shouldn’t I be the one buying you a housewarming gift? Thirdly… just no.”

Jimin purses his lips at this, hesitating. “Well, I insist.”

“Well so do -” Yoongi gets cut off by a buzz from his phone. It’s his mother. He’s running late.

“Is… Is everything okay?” Jimin watches as the colour drains from Yoongi’s already pale skin, leaving him alarmingly ghostly.

“I’m late… shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay! I’ll take the flowers for now but I’m paying you back later!” He grabs the bouquet and runs out of the store, an airy giggle following him out as he scrabbles for his keys.

[mummaandmax-blog]

My labour, not like the usual I PROMISE!

So this is my labour story the pain, the difficulty and all the in between. Max was due on the 1st of June 2016, actually my mothers birthday! He was born three days early, and did I have a whirlwind of a labour to tell all about.

It was 8am Saturday morning May the 28th that I had googled EVERYTHING and I mean everything to get this labour started. Which resulted in a gym ball purchase from Kmart, then watching Rocky Balboa for the ENTIRE afternoon. I cooked dinner, showered and then felt the urgent need to clean and I mean clean everything. Tiles, walls, toilets, skirting boards it was endless I couldn’t stop! I finally went to bed, but woke at 4:30am Sunday morning the 29th of May with what I knew instantly was labour pains. I paced around till 9:30am and decided to wake up my fiancé, his first words were ‘Honey, did you feed the dogs’ 😂 Like seriously!? I’ve just told him I was in labour and he’s asked me that!? ( clearly he was half asleep ) I showered, shaved you know all that fun stuff when you can’t even see your toes? I rang my mum to start packing and get on her way for the four hour drive ahead of her! I laboured at home till 2:30pm in the afternoon pacing, thinking trying to keep busy but the pain by then was crazy I literally couldn’t take it anymore. It was the worst back pain (I had all my labour pains in my back not my stomach) I’ve ever experienced in my life, it came and went but every time it came back it got worse and worse. I knew it was time to go.. But then we had a problem, a big problem. I clearly couldn’t drive and how embarrassing to tell all but neither could Josh. (Thankgod he can now for the next one) Here I am, in labour and no way to the hospital. 😂After hours of labour, knowing I had no way to the hospital I was really starting to realise what the hell am I going to do!? Josh was freaking, I was overwhelmed, anxious, scared and terrified this baby was coming into the world at home! I finally decided I need to ring Taylor, a friend I’d met and I’d worked with while pregnant, her and her partner had to drive 45 minutes into Geelong to drive both me and Josh to the hospital. (Waiting 45 minutes was the longest wait of my life) Finally at the hospital, admitted, and looked over I was told they were going to send me home. I knew something wasn’t right and I had to tell them to please check me I can’t go home! After they finally agreed to check my cervix, LUCKILY THEY DID! I was already 7cm dilated! 😱💪

I was immediately told I would not be going home, and let’s get the ball rolling. I had no waters break, as I had already leaked for weeks! I was sucking on the gas like I was dying, and feeling urges to push. It was 5:30pm and I was waiting for the arrival of mum, I knew I couldn’t do this without her! After just gas, and Josh making the most ridiculous jokes but in seeing that he was incredible so supportive and I couldn’t have honestly asked for anything more from him he was amazing! But, I felt this need for mum she had been through it, she knew what I was feeling and finally after hours she arrived! It was 6:30pm when I seen her face and felt an instant sigh of relief! I started pushing the moment I seen her face, and instantly wish I hadn’t! The burn, the ring of fire, every tear of my skin I felt. I can’t even comprehend the pain you feel during labour, or explain it in words. It’s pain Ive never felt before, but a pain you can handle for your baby. It’s the craziest, best experience of my life. It got to much at one point, and I remember asking ‘I need the epidural now! I can’t do this! Nurses response was ‘His head is coming love, it’s far to late for that’ Funny enough that was the only time I spoke, my entire ‘active’ part of my labour was in silence. I couldn’t speak, scream nothing. I was in my zone and i think it was also to do with not continuing to breathe fresh air inbetween sucking in the gas so to be honest I was very delirious, I could feel everything but I was silent. Josh asked numerous times if I was still conscious! I remember the incredible feeling at that last push, when I felt him come out. I remember Joshs’ face, mums face pure happiness at that very moment. Instantly all the pain disappeared, it was the craziest thing. To feel all that pain, and then nothing but happiness. At 7:29pm Sunday night the 29th of May our little man arrived safe and healthy! I held him so tightly, his tiny little body on my chest and cried, I was so happy. A happiness I'd never felt before, i felt whole. And my heart was so full, the most powerful feeling I have ever felt. I had suffered third degree perineal tearing, but I had a healthy baby and that was all that mattered to me.

I was a mum, who delivered my baby safely and it is the proudest moment of my life.

😘