#APPARENTLY. i was wrong and you can still mix it up /silly

[bad-traffic-smp-ideas]

I forgot the Month/Day system exists (I only use Day/Month) and I thought you meant Month/Year. I went "FEBRUARY 2020??!?!?! DO YOU MEAN THE QUEUE WAS FROM OCT 2019?!?!?"

Needless to say, no.

Alternate universe when my queue is backed up over five years instead of just four months </3

[ak319]

Haii!, I really like your Arthur Morgan series and I've also read it several times and it's not boring at all!🫶🏻

Can I make a request? If so, can you make the reader jealous because Arthur is close to Mary Beth?🫶🏻 (Arthur and the reader's relationship is not platonic!)

(AN: Tsym! Remind me why we making Y/n suffer again? PS: I'm terrible at writing jealousy shit ngl and I legit dunno why. AND THATS LIT WHAT YALL KEPT ASKING FOR-😭☠) Hope yall enjoy reading lol)

Warnings/MDNI: None, just angst and then fluff to soothe your asses-

You were by the lake, lazily washing clothes. The day had you feeling sluggish, and the pleasant weather didn’t exactly help motivate you. The water was just the right temperature, cool enough to refresh but warm enough to keep you rooted in place. You should really pick up the pace, finish up, and grab some tea--or coffee--or a well-deserved break.

The faint hum of camp activity behind you was oddly comforting, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. That is until you heard footsteps crunching on the gravel, quick and impatient, followed by a sharp curse.

“Dammit! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you, girl.”

You glanced over your shoulder, grinning as Molly stormed up to you, her face a mix of exasperation and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“For God’s sake, Molly, you know my Tuesday routine by now,” you teased, tossing a wet shirt into the basket beside you. “It’s not like this camp is big enough to lose someone. Honestly, I think you’re just bad at looking.”

She didn’t laugh. Not even a crack of a smile. Instead, she stood there, arms crossed, her expression tight with barely-contained frustration. You paused mid-scrub, a curious eyebrow raised.

“What’s gotten into you? You look ready to murder someone.”

“Oh, sure,” she snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Leave it to ever-so-clueless (Y/N) to not notice a damn thing going on around her.” She gestured wildly toward the camp as though you were missing some grand spectacle.

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “What the hell are you on about?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she hesitated as if debating whether you were even worth the explanation. Then, with a dramatic huff, she took a step closer, glaring down at you like you’d personally wronged her.

“Let me spell it out for you. Do I even bother tellin’ you what’s happening? Or should I just assume it won’t make a difference because your ‘dearest cold heart’ won’t care? Or worse, you’ll just laugh it off like you always do!”

Your hands stilled in the water, the soap slipping through your fingers. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

"Y’know, what I just heard and saw?” Molly huffed, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. “Mr. Arthur Morgan, having a chat with Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth! That same snake who’s all over Dutch, and now, apparently, your man, (Y/N)!”

Her voice rose with each word, and you blinked, caught completely off guard. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge your reaction. “I swear to God, she was asking him to buy her another one of those silly romance books for her lovesick brain. I mean, why Arthur, huh? Why doesn’t she go pester Kieran’s ass instead?”

Hearing her rant, you stood up, gripping the damp shirt in your hands as you processed her words. “Wh--sounds like a friendly chat to me, Molly,” you said, trying to brush it off with a shrug. “I mean, Arthur brings stuff for everyone. He goes out the most, doesn’t he? And, well, Kieran… he’s not exactly allowed far from camp neither he can afford anything right now. They still don’t trust him, y’know. And Arthur, he’s like a brother to Mary-Beth-"

“Don’t even start with that ‘brother’ shit, (Y/N),” Molly snapped, cutting you off. “It's just a facade.”

Your mouth fell open, heat rushing to your face at the implication. Uncertainty clawed at your chest as you tried to stammer a response, but she wasn’t done. Molly’s jealousy toward Mary Beth only seemed to fuel her fire, her words coming quicker now, sharp and biting.

“And don’t act like it couldn’t happen. You think she doesn’t see how kind he is to you? How he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching? Oh, she sees it. And she’d snatch him up the moment she gets the chance.”

You clenched your jaw, her words making you shift uncomfortably. Sure, you trusted Arthur, but the venom in Molly’s tone, the way her words seemed to twist around your insecurities, left you feeling just the slightest bit unsteady.

"Did he even say goodbye to you before he sprang into action?” Molly pressed, her voice softer now, almost pitying. “And the other day, weren’t you telling me you needed some cream for your hands? You even told him, and look, just look at your hands.”

Her gaze dropped to your chapped and reddened fingers, and you instinctively tried to wipe them dry on your skirt, as if that would somehow make them better. Her words were digging deeper now, clawing at something vulnerable in you. Did he forget to bring it? Or worse, did he not care enough to remember? Had your wishes, his woman’s wishes, stopped mattering to him altogether?

“This is bullshit, you should have run away with that pen pal of yours, to be honest when you had the chance,” Molly muttered, crossing her arms. “You didn’t listen to me when I told you she’s after Dutch. And now she’s after both! I swear, those books she reads must be teaching her these tactics. Manipulative little-"

“I--y’know what?” you cut her off, your voice suddenly firm as your gaze drifted to the camp, your eyes narrowing.

“What?” Molly asked, surprised by your sudden shift in tone.

“Let’s just go,” you said, your voice laced with resolve.

“Go where?”

“Town.”

Without waiting for her to argue, you kicked the bucket of soapy water, sending it tumbling into the river, the suds spilling out and disappearing downstream. The laundry lay abandoned on the grass as you turned and marched toward the stables, Molly following close behind.

Damn everyone, then.

❀˖°

Arthur returned to camp, expecting to find you in his tent as usual. But when he stepped inside, the familiar space felt oddly empty. A frown tugged at his lips.

"Hey... um, Sadie?" he called out, spotting her near the campfire. "You seen (Y/N)?"

Sadie glanced up from sharpening her knife. "Oh, yeah. She and Molly went to town."

"What?!" The word escaped him before he could stop it, his voice louder than he intended. Clearing his throat, he muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and walked back to his tent, feeling heat rise to his face. He slumped down onto his cot with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.

You know how he felt about you going far from camp without him, even if you were with one of the girls. It wasn’t a matter of trust, it was fear.

And still you did.

There were too many dangers out there, too many things that could go wrong, and the thought of you out there without him stirred a storm in his chest.

It was 5 p.m., the time when you two usually sat together to talk about your day over supper. The time he looked forward to most whenever he was at camp. And now? He sat there, staring at the flap of his tent, the minutes ticking by painfully slow.

But what bothered him more was why you’d gone. And with Molly, of all people. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he didn’t have a problem with her, not really. But something about the way you two were together always set him on edge.

He’d told you how he felt about it once. About how Molly seemed to lean on you a little too much, how her sadness and drama sometimes seemed to pull you down with her. But of course, you’d defended her, saying you couldn’t just turn your back on your best friend. That Molly found her only comfort in your company.

And you were right. He knew you were. But that didn’t make it any easier to sit here, waiting, imagining where you were and what could happen.

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, his appetite gone. Instead of heading to the campfire for supper, he threw himself onto his cot, pulling his hat over his face in an attempt to block out the growing worry gnawing at his chest.

But even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t shake the unease. Images of you and Molly wandering through town, far from the safety of camp, flickered in his mind. He trusted you, of course, but the world out there? That was another story entirely.

“Damn woman never listens to me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with equal parts frustration and concern.

Sleep didn’t come easily, and even as he tried to rest, he knew one thing for certain, when you came back, this was a conversation he wasn’t going to let slide.

❀˖°

Arthur woke with a start, roused by Bill’s loud guffaw somewhere in the camp. With a groan, he rubbed his face, taking a moment to shake off the haze of sleep and piece together his scattered thoughts. Then it hit him, the memory of you leaving with Molly, and the worry twisted sharply in his chest again.

He pushed himself up with a sigh, his body stiff from the restless nap. Moving through camp, he glanced around, hoping, praying, to catch sight of you. But there was nothing. No sign of you or Molly.

He considered asking Dutch, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. Dutch would likely know even less than he did, and Arthur wasn’t in the mood for meaningless chatter.

Back at his tent, he sat on the edge of his cot, pulling out his journal in an attempt to distract himself. The flap of the tent was open, giving him a clear view of camp, but his eyes kept flickering toward it, waiting for you to appear.

His stomach growled, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to eat, not until you came back, served the meal, and sat down beside him. That was how it went. That was how it had to go.

He was about to get up and go to find both of you himself when-

"Um, Arthur?" Abigail’s voice broke through his brooding. She appeared by the flap of his tent, holding a coffee pot. "There’s some coffee left, and I’ve got to wash the pot, would you like a cup?"

He shook his head, barely sparing her a glance. "Why’d they go to town?"

"Molly and (Y/N)?" Abigail tilted her head, her tone casual. "Oh, they’ve been back. Got back about half an hour ago. They’re in my tent, just hanging out."

Arthur blinked, first in shock, then confusion, which quickly morphed into anger. Half an hour? You’d been back for that long and hadn’t even bothered to come see him? Not even a word after being gone all day?

He shut his journal with a snap, the sound echoing his rising temper, and stood. The muffled chatter coming from Abigail’s tent grated on his nerves as he stalked toward it, each step heavier than the last.

What the hell was going on with you?

He cleared his throat outside the tent before pushing the flap open, only to find you and Molly sitting cross-legged, enjoying supper.

"Where were you? I was waiting for you."

You swallowed your bite, not bothering to look up at him. "Needed a few important things from town, actually, so I had to go."

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Can you come with me? I want to talk."

"I’m already talking to Molly," you replied, your tone curt, still avoiding his gaze.

Damn it. Why the hell weren’t you even looking at him? That gnawing frustration in his chest boiled over. He had enough of this.

"I said, Come. With. Me." he demanded, his voice low but firm, the tone sharper than he intended.

Your head snapped up, eyes glaring at him with such intensity that, for a moment, he regretted using that tone. Hell, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him just a little.

"Oh, excuse me, Mister. Don’t you dare order me around like a maid, alright? I sit, talk, and walk when I want to. And right now? I don’t want to. Now go away, we’re busy."

Arthur ignored Molly’s taunting scoff, still fixated on you. Something about this--about you--just didn’t sit right.

"I’m sorry, okay? I’m just hungry. I was waiting for you... Can we eat now?" Arthur’s chest tightened, guilt creeping in. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anger softening. "...I was just worried as hell."

Hell, I still am.

But you didn’t let it go. "I’ve already eaten, and I didn’t ask you to wait for me. There are plenty of people around here you can share your meal with, Arthur. Plenty."

You turned your attention back to Molly, flashing her a rueful grin with your hair covering your face but he definitely caught it.

The Irishwoman gave you a knowing smile, her voice full of mischief. "Oh, girl, there’s always someone around."

This is how it's gonna be huh?

His first instinct was to walk away, but no. Arthur wasn’t the type to run from problems. With one swift movement, he grabbed your arm and dragged you out and behind the tent, just past the tree line. He stared down at you, his expression a mix of annoyance and desperation.

"What the hell is that all about?! And you know I hate it when you go out alone-"

"I don’t care! I don’t care anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "I hate going out for some petty stuff too, which, by the way, I clearly asked you to get, and you forgot! I guess books are more important than me, huh?."

Arthur’s chest tightened. He rarely saw this side of you ever since you both got together, the frustration, the hurt, the coldness. "See, this is the problem," you continued, your voice rising. "When men find someone vulnerable enough to control, to fix, they get bored. Then they move on, find someone else to repeat the same damn cycle. Am I right?"

His mouth went dry. The words cut deep. But what hurt him the most was the thought that maybe... maybe you believed that.

He wasn’t asking for much, was he? Three meals with you, a cup of coffee, that was it. Simple things that made him feel like you cared. That made him feel loved. But you didn’t... or did you?

The silence between you two was deafening as he tried to process what you said.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur started, his frustration mounting. "See, this is why I don’t like when you and Molly-"

"Oh, no, no, no. Shush. Don’t you dare," you interrupted, your voice sharp, but there was a deep hurt behind it. "She’s always been right, Arthur. I was the dumb one. I’ve been working my ass off for you, and you didn’t even bother to say goodbye this morning, huh?"

Arthur froze, guilt beginning to gnaw at him. He wasn’t ready for this. "You know, I had a chance to leave this life, you know exactly who I’m talking about. But I didn’t. I chose you. But if I’m just gonna be sidelined like this? Nuh-uh. My ego doesn’t allow it. Nobody gets to disrespect me like that."

You took a deep breath, eyes blazing. "If you don’t want me anymore, then say it. Don’t play these stupid-ass games with me. I’m not Molly, not when it comes to this."

Arthur’s stomach dropped as the weight of your words settled in. He could feel the hurt radiating off of you, the betrayal that had built up. And now it made sense. Molly had probably warned you, just like she always did. He could almost hear her saying it a dozen times in the morning,

'Don’t let him treat you like that, they are all shit.'

"There is NOTHING like that, woman!" Arthur snapped, his voice rising in frustration. "Is that what this is about? You’re ready to just forget, hell, even think like this over a misunderstanding?"

"Call it whatever you want," you replied coldly, not backing down. "But not gonna lie, the pattern makes sense now, Arthur."

He took a step back, trying to steady his breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Don’t say that... c’mon. You know it’s not true! She’s like a sister to me! For God’s sake, how can you even think--"

Without another word, you grabbed his satchel, the leather creaking in your grip, and flipped it upside down. A book slid out and thudded onto the ground.

Arthur froze, his eyes darting to the book, then to the scattered contents of his bag. He watched, his heart sinking, as you threw the satchel aside in disgust. "Bravo," you muttered, the bitterness in your voice sharper than a knife.

"Don't even bother explaining. I’m tired." You began to walk away, but before you could get far, Arthur grabbed your wrist.

"Don't you dare, no way you’re... sleeping away from me." His voice started strong, then faltered into a desperate plea, but you didn’t turn around. With a sharp jerk, you freed your hand from his grasp and continued walking.

Arthur stood there for a moment, his breath heavy as he watched you leave. With a defeated sigh, he bent down to gather the scattered contents of his satchel. Tilly approached, offering to help, but he shrugged her off with a tired wave and handed the book over to Mary-Beth, who was standing a few feet away, her face filled with guilt and sadness. His hand lingered in his pocket for a moment, pulling out the cream he had meant to bring you, adding it to the pile with a sharp scoff.

His posture was slumped, his movements slow and burdened. He didn’t need to say anything, his body language alone was enough to tell Tilly, Mary-Beth, and anyone else watching that this sulking would last for days, and you... you weren’t someone who accepted apologies easily.

❀˖°

And that’s exactly what happened. Arthur waited every day, hoping you would just come, sit with him, and listen. He longed for you to let him explain, to sort things out, so he could hold you in his arms again. Dammit. He missed you at night like a child misses their favorite doll.

But you weren’t just any doll.

You were his doll.

And when it came to you, he was nothing but a man-child.

Everybody knew his routine, the gang enforcer's routine. Simple, predictable. Come back, chat a little, handle his business, talk and eat with you, then the tent flaps closed, just the two of you, a world away from the chaos of the camp.

But now?

Come back, brood in one corner, pace to another, sleep with the flaps wide open.

Arthur’s mood soured every time he saw you doing something that wasn’t just being with him. Chores, errands, anything that took you away, even for a moment, made him restless, agitated. He needed you with him, in the tent, with the flaps closed, where he could hold you, even if it was just in the silence of the night.

Every night, he asked you to come with him. But you ignored him. Yet, he kept asking, unable to stop the desperate hope that you’d return, that you’d see it the way he did.

"Damnit. Damn stubborn ass woman." He grumbled for what? The millionth time? Sighing he petted his horse as it trotted at a leisurely pace, just a few meters from camp. How the hell had it all gone so bad? What was even the point anymore? Are you happy now?

His horse huffed as if sensing his despair, nudging him gently, but Arthur barely acknowledged it. The familiar sound of the camp in the distance only served to remind him that nothing was the same anymore, not the meals, not the quiet talks, and certainly not the comfort of his cot. That's it. This ends tonight.

He is going to carry you over his shoulder if that takes you to talk to him. To hell with your protests and stubbornness.

You were crouched down, sorting through vegetables with Abigail, your hands busy with the task at hand.

It wasn’t long before you saw Molly moving quietly, eyes darting back and forth, heading toward the girls' area.

You knew Molly. You had spent enough time with her to understand that when her instincts kicked in, she often acted before she thought. There was an impulsive streak in her, a tendency to let her emotions guide her steps, and that could be dangerous. Especially now, when tensions were already high.

Without much thought, you excused yourself from Abigail, your voice quick and unsteady. “I’ll be right back.”

You left her with the vegetables and slipped away from the campfire, your steps light as you tried to stay out of sight. Moving quietly, you found a small, hidden spot behind a tent, where you could just make out the faint sounds of voices, though you couldn’t yet hear clearly what was being said. Your heart pounded in your chest.

"(Y/N) and I were so close, in fact, like sisters, but you ruined that too! I don’t know what you told her-" Mary-Beth’s voice cracked, and for the first time, it wasn’t the usual calm, polite tone she carried. There was raw emotion, maybe even a hint of fear, but more than that, it sounded like heartbreak.

"You did it! Just like you're trying to ruin my relationship with Dutch."

"Are you in your senses, Ms. Molly?!" Mary-Beth gasped, trying to defend herself. "How can you even think that?!"

The past few days, you couldn’t help but notice her glances at you, brief but meaningful. It was as if she was caught between wanting to reach out and not knowing if you’d welcome her presence. Her eyes would meet yours across the camp, filled with a mixture of concern and hesitation, as if she longed to approach, to console you, but the fear of intruding, of making things worse, kept her frozen in place.

You understood her hesitation. She was a kind soul, someone who cared deeply for those she loved, and in these tense moments, you knew she wasn’t sure how to navigate the space between you both. And neither did you try to clear the air.

"You and your pretty face are going to be your downfa-"

"Molly, enough." You stepped in, your voice firm. Molly turned to you, arms crossed over her chest, her face filled with frustration.

"(Y/N), don’t tell me you’re under her spell too, for God’s sake. She needs to get a reality check-"

"Molly," you interjected, stepping forward and gently taking hold of her arms. You guided her a few steps away from Mary-Beth, the tension between them thick. "Let me handle it, alright?"

"Don’t pity her, let me make that clear. Otherwise, you’ll be the one regretting it." Molly threw one last angry glance at Mary-Beth, shaking her head before storming off, muttering under her breath.

You stood there, a heavy sigh escaping you as you rubbed your forehead, watching Molly retreat. Turning back to Mary-Beth, who sat on the ground, you softened your expression. "I apologize on her behalf..." You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. You knew you’d have to work hard to get Molly to let go of her anger, but that's for later.

"It's... alright, (Y/N)." Her voice croaked, and you didn’t miss the tremble in it, nor the quiet tears she tried to hide. Your gaze shifted to the book resting on the makeshift table in the corner. The one she had requested. You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat.

"You’re not reading it?" you asked, your voice gentle.

She looked up at you, shaking her head slowly. You could see the weight of her emotions pressing down on her, and it hurt to see her like this.

You walked over, picked up the book, and sat beside her. "Why not?" you asked softly. It caught her off guard, and for a moment, her eyes softened. She hesitated before returning the smile, albeit faintly, her sadness still lingering behind it.

"I am sorry... (Y/N), if you... if you misunderstood my actions, but I swear it’s nothing. There’s nobody else, except Mr. Morgan that we feel comfortable enough to ask for things... but if you mind it, then we won’t--"

"No. No. You can ask without hesitation, and I am sorry. I was quick to jump to... conclusions," you interrupted, your voice soft with regret. You hugged her, and she gladly returned the embrace. The warmth of her arms around you soothed the tension in your chest.

You placed the book gently in her lap and shifted your body closer, not wanting to break the moment. "I just... y'know... when I love someone, I do it fully. And I don’t tolerate when that gets disrespected, y'know? That’s one thing I will never forgive." Your voice trembled slightly, the depth of your feelings evident. "But anyway, do read it, and then we’ll have a chat about it. You know I love hearing you yap about your books more than reading them myself."

She chuckled softly, her eyes lighting up with a glimmer of her old self, and you watched her face brighten as she held the book. You stood up, feeling a sense of relief, but also a lingering desire to stay.

"Definitely. But for now, I must go work too, don’t want Susan to bury me alive."

"You better." As you were making your way back to the kitchen wagon, a figure stepped in your way.

"Am I forgiven too?" His voice was teasing, but his expression was genuine. You deadpanned, folding your arms.

"Ummmm... let me think about it," you replied with a mock thoughtful expression, your gaze narrowing slightly.

He mirrored your posture, folding his arms with a smirk. "Not fair, woman. Not fair."

"I never said I was." You gave him a pointed look before turning to walk past him.

As you continued your walk back to the kitchen wagon, you felt a lightness in the air, a shift that felt... right. Arthur, still a few steps behind you, watched you quietly with an almost childish pout. There was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that told you he was waiting, waiting for you to acknowledge it all, to say what neither of you had dared to say yet.

You stopped for a moment, as you placed the cutting board, and turned to face him. The sunlight caught the edges of his hair, giving him a softer, not to mention the dark circles, giving him a more vulnerable look than you’d seen before. There was no teasing now, no masks, just Arthur, looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time again.

"I’m sorry, too," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. "For the things I said."

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don’t like it either. I swear, I’d rather fight a hundred men than have you angry at me. But..." His hand reached out hesitantly, as though unsure whether he had the right to touch you, to pull you close. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I apologize too...for making you feel that way. But I swear it wasn't in my intention."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words. It wasn’t the grand gestures or flowery promises that touched you. It was the simplicity of it, the honesty in his voice, the vulnerability he rarely let show. "Well then let me tell you that," you whispered back, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I’m not going anywhere."

With a relieved exhale, Arthur stepped forward, his arms wrapping around you firmly, pulling you into his chest. It was as though all the tension from before melted away, and in its place, there was just the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. "I love you," he murmured into your hair, the words so familiar now, but somehow more precious each time.

You nestled into his embrace, letting your worries fade for the moment, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I love you, too," you replied, your voice barely above a breath, but you meant it with everything you had.

"Y'know darlin'...I was very close to shootin' myself if I had to sleep on the cold bed any longer. It took strength to control myself and not drag you out-" You rolled your eyes and pulled away.

"Right, now go away, I have work to do."

"Absolutely not. To hell with these damn chores. You are coming with me."

You shot him a skeptical glance, hands on your hips as you paused in your tracks. "Really?" you said, raising an eyebrow.

A grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer, his broad frame encroaching on your space. "What do you think, darlin'?" he teased, his hands coming up to cradle your face, nearly squishing it with playful force. He gave your head a gentle shake, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s been too damn long. You’ve had me sleeping like a corpse for days. You cruel woman."

You tried to hold back the laugh that bubbled up in your chest, but his determination was infectious "Fine," you muttered, giving in more to his presence than anything else. He grinned, his hands reaching for you, pulling you effortlessly toward the flap of his tent.

"Atta girl." His voice held a triumphant edge, but it was softened with affection.

And finally, after days, the enforcer's tent flaps were closed at night--and so was the distance between you two.

(AN: Req/asks closed for now, guys :/ do keep in mind ur ideas and send once I'll announce them open)

[pullupinarari]

hi bea i read that request for fics is closed but you said we can send in ideas for blurbs? im sorry if im wrong btw. but i am humbly asking for your wonderful talent to write this small idea for a blurb:

lewis finally came home after all his farewell tour and everything. and obviously we know how grace will stick to him like a glue she is hihi. but what if when it's night time or early am like 2-3am when everyone is asleep, reader wakes up and goes to the kitchen alone. trying to make a cup of tea or smth to calm herself down. apparently all this farewell stuff and all these lovely messages from the fans, and even listening to lewis talking abt his emotions, it get the best of her.

but she kept it to herself bcs she doesnt want to be sad in front of him or make it worse. but then lewis woke up to an empty bed and came looking for her downstairs?

a/n: I LOVED writing this, thank you so much for sending me this scenario and for trusting me with it, love 🩷 hope you like it

Having your husband back home to you, to your family, is like a breath of oxygen that was lacking on your body. It’s the feeling of comfort, of security and, above all, it’s the relief of having him by your side, of having him just a few meters away - at the distance of a kiss. 

It’s been two days since Lewis finished all his farewell duties, and you two decided to take these first few days of him back home slowly. The environment surrounding your house is peaceful, living in a comfortable silence - a much needed one after all the information that all of you had to process with the new change that you’re dealing with. 

The mornings are filled with cuddle sessions on the sofa, enjoying some time for yourselves while Grace is at school. The air is comfortable, light between your figures as you lay your head on his chest, feeling how his heartbeat calms down due to your presence. Lewis’ fingers travel up and down your back slowly, landing sweet kisses on your features as he looks down at you with pure adoration in his eyes - still mixed with some remnants of tiredness lingering in them. 

And neither of you need to say a word. The emotions surrounding the two of you is way more than just an invisible string, it’s a complete web by now, wrapping your minds, diving you into the other’s feelings. 

You two need time, patience and understanding for what you are about to face as a couple - delving into what seems like a complete new world, leaving behind something that you already knew like the back of your hands. But you’re willing to do it, together. 

And everything feels better when you are together, when your family is reunited. If the mornings are slow and quiet, the afternoons are filled with laughs, silly jokes, your daughter’s small feet running around the house - she is the only thing that could break the castle of silence that you and your husband build at the beginning of every single day. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Grace and Lewis are absolutely glued by the hip, never letting go of each other - only if it’s really necessary. And together, their dad and daughter moments would paint the most adorable sight, a painting of the most truthful, infinite love that you have ever seen. The masterpiece that you are lucky enough to admire every single day, for hours on end, feeling even more blessed to be part of it - especially when both of them fall asleep on your lap, your nails gently grazing both of their heads, intertwining with their matching curls. 

However, you can’t seem to let things go completely - or, at least, not as easily as you would like. There’s a heavy weight on your stomach, your heart feeling tight in your chest when you let yourself get into your own head too much. 

Maybe it’s the memories of every good moment you’ve spent with the team over a decade, maybe it’s the recognition that people have been paying your husband - every little thing making you more and more emotional. Or maybe it’s the comments that you read online, or the messages that some people from Mercedes are still sending you. 

Or maybe, to tell the truth, you’re just scared. Scared of changing, scared of delving into the unknown - even if the new team is definitely not unknown to you nor your husband. But still, it’s changing a part of your life that has been a constant for so many years. 

Sometimes, when we live amongst the chaos, we just need something to stay still. And, somehow, in your head, that team was part of the few things that would stay still, in the middle of everything that could change a million times, in a never ending metamorphosis. 

Tossing and turning in bed, the anxiety keeps boiling in your chest, making it hard for you to get some decent sleep. Today is just one of those days where you find yourself on the verge of tears over the smallest thing. Feeling your emotions way too heightened, feeling every little thing way too much. 

The clock reads 2:39 am, everyone is asleep. The house is dead silent as you slowly walk downstairs, dragging your body through the corridors until you reach the kitchen. 

Preparing a warm tea to help calm you down, you can’t help but let some thin tears fall free from your eyes as you stir your drink. Technically, nothing’s wrong. You have everything you need - especially now that your husband is finally, peacefully, asleep in your shared bed. 

Feeling your entire family being wrapped in a bubble of love and gratitude, gets the best of you - realizing that there are still so many good people by your side. 

Sipping on your tea, you wipe the tears away from your cheeks, thinking about the times you have decided to cry downstairs, away from your secluded, private space next to your other half. 

To tell the truth, you would just rather keep it to yourself. You don’t want to be sad in front of Lewis, let alone in front of your daughter. It’s just easier to suck it up than to let it out, especially when you know that this is an emotional time for your husband, as well - this is his moment, really. So, you will gladly take the weight of everything on your shoulders now, so he can finally let his emotions out, for once - feeling everything to the fullest, accepting and dealing with his sentiments, embracing his tears. He is allowed to feel, to cry, to vent, to question, to be vulnerable in the safety of your home, of your arms. And so, you want him to make the most of it in this transitional phase. 

In your shared bedroom, the man is turning his figure during his peaceful slumber, his arm absently reaching for your side of the bed, wanting to hold you close. Meeting the emptiness on your pillow, Lewis slowly opens his eyes, blinking a few times to the realization that you’re not by his side. 

With furrowed eyebrows, the man sighs before leaving his own place on the mattress, his feet moving to find you. The more he walks through the house, the closer he gets to the sound of your sniffles, leaving your body from time to time. 

Finding your frame sitting on a chair, with your back to the door, the man feels something switch inside of him when he sees the way your head hangs low, how your hands rub your eyes tiredly - silently crying away from him.

Walking over to you, his figure immediately hugs you from behind, arms wrapping around you while his face reaches the crook of your neck - landing innocent, sweet kisses on your skin. 

You allow yourself to be held by him, trying to force a small smile on your features while you subtly wipe the tears from your face. 

- What’s wrong, my love? - his sweet voice asks, whispering in your ear as his lips continue adorning your cheek. 

Shrugging, you find yourself trapped in the situation, your mind running to think of an excuse. 

- Nothing, baby. I’m just feeling stressed, that’s all. I am finishing my tea already, we can go back to bed - you pretend, and Lewis leaves your figure for a second, to take a decent look at your face.  - Love, come on. It’s just you and me. What’s going on? - he insists, raising an eyebrow at the way you just tried to dodge the topic.

Sighing in defeat, you finally give in.

- Saying goodbye to the team, your farewell tour, all the messages and the nice things everyone has done, it just gets the best of me. - you shrug again, noticing the hot tears coming back as you try to hide your face in your hands, feeling embarrassed now. 

Holding your wrists gently, Lewis uncovers your features, crouching down so he is more eye-leveled with you. 

- Oh, love - his fingers cup your face, thumbs wiping away the tears that insist on swimming through your skin. - Why didn’t you talk to me about it before? Why do you feel the need to cry in the kitchen, in the middle of the night? - his own voice cracks a bit at the thought of his wife not feeling comfortable enough to vent to him.  - I just didn’t want you to deal with all of this. This is your moment, Lew. You are experiencing feelings that are way stronger than mine, you have way more to accept inside of you, to come to terms with. I am here to help, to support you, not to bother you with my stupid cries when this is your time to be vulnerable, not me. - you explain, almost in a cold manner, making Lewis’ heart sting in his chest, at the way you devalue your own feelings. 

You get up from the chair, moving away from your husband’s stare as you go to put your mug in the sink. His shadow follows yours, his arms trapping you against the counter, not letting you run away from him, as you turn around - your eyes meeting again.

- Baby, please. - his voice is low, barely above a whisper, just so the two of you can hear. - This isn’t just my moment, this is our moment, we are taking on this new era as a family, love. I never do anything alone, I’m never by myself, because you are my biggest pillar. But please, don’t feel like you need to hold your cries - especially from me. We are together in sickness and health, happiness and sadness. We laugh together, we cry together. I don’t ever want you to hide any of this from me, my angel. - his eyes are soft, looking straight into you, seeing you for who you are, your bare emotions on the surface of your skin now, as more silent tears paint your features. 

Without a word leaving your lips, your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close to you as you try to calm your weeping. 

- I love you so much, my love. And I care about you, silly. I am here to dry your tears, in the same way that you always dry mine. Almost ten years of being together and I can’t believe I need to tell you this - he makes a chuckle leave your body, kissing your hair as he is still holding you close.  - This is a good goodbye, baby, not a sad one. But it’s okay to cry, yeah? Everything is fine, darlin. We will be fine, as long as we stick together - he cups your face again, whispering the words to you as his lips get closer to yours, closing the remaining distance between your bodies with a kiss. 

The warmth of his lips makes you melt, immediately packing all the loose thoughts in your mind, making you forget about the nonsense that was hovering over you. 

- No more crying to your tea in the middle of the night, okay? I don’t think tea is supposed to be salty - he smiles at you, seeing the way you affirmatively nod at his offer. 

After taking a deep breath, you notice your figure getting lighter, like all the weight you were carrying has just left your body. With a final kiss to your lips, your husband lovingly caresses your cheek with his fingers. And whilst smiling at you with love in his eyes, he grabs your hand, guiding you back to bed.

And it’s in the comfort of his embrace that you find yourself again, reigniting the little fire inside of you that keeps you going. It’s next to the love of your life that you understand that the alleys of your heart always return to the same place, in the exact same direction to Lewis’ heart - beating as one.

[just-some-little-lads]

My Love, Like Winter, is Eternal

Summary: You find you can't sleep, and your partner resting right next to you listens to your late-night thoughts.

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: SFW, Fluff, Second Person POV, gn! reader.

It’s easy to forget what lies beneath a frost. When the world is coated in so much snow, one might lose memory of the blooms in spring. Most people think of winter as this harsh and cruel season. It often comes hand-in-hand with negative metaphors like death or apathy or the end of any good thing. There was a time when you thought much the same. Now…you can’t help but almost feel bad for winter- for snow. There’s so much warmth there that goes unnoticed.

Poetic thoughts like these came easy to you in the early hours of the morning. Especially during nights where you couldn’t sleep. Maybe that’s why you found yourself finding feeling sad for an environmental passage of time of all things. Well…you had to give yourself some slack. There was a reason why snow had such a loving space in your heart; why you found yourself telling your coworkers who dared complain about the cold all the wonderful things you could do in the snow. Even after all the odd glances you got most times. A noble task, you would tell yourself. One might call you a…polar protector? A Snow Spokesperson! A Blizzard Bodyguard! A—

A large hand covered your face, cutting you free from your thoughts. After successfully catching your attention, the hand moved back to the body it belonged to. “You’re thinking too loudly…” Voice low, tone slightly slurred with half-consciousness, Zayne brought a thumb and forefinger up to rub at bleary eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You felt a bit guilty for waking him up, knowing he’d be heading back to the hospital in a few hours. “You can read my thoughts?”

A huff of a single chuckle escaped him as he turned on his side towards you. As he spoke, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you toward him. “I think I have a few years to go before I can read your thoughts, but I can read your body language. Tossing and turning, fidgeting hands, rapid breaths. Symptoms of someone far too awake. What’s keeping you up?” A note of concern seeped into his tone. He kept you close while fixing and straightening some wild strands of your bed-hair. Based off his smile, you could tell you looked a bit more on the disheveled side. Something he was all too happy to fix. Meanwhile, he still looked as refined as ever. Gorgeous, like a statue chiseled from ice plucked from heavenly mountain-tops. Or perhaps that was just the rose-colored glasses talking. You found yourself still falling head-over-heels for him, and crushing like you hadn’t been together for a while. “Hey…” Zayne’s smile faded, his hand moving from your hip to your cheek. Apparently, he’d taken you staring at him in silence as some sort of hesitation. “Talk to me. Is something wrong?”

Well, now you felt a bit sheepish. Zayne was probably thinking you were plagued by some kind of stress. “Just thinking…about snow.”

“Snow?” he asked, incredulous that something so simple was keeping you awake, almost looking more worried. “Don’t tell me you’re making winter plans already?”

“Not really…”

The mattress shifted as he propped his head up on his elbow and sighed. His forefinger began to trace the outline of your face. “Penny for your thoughts? I won’t be able to sleep if you continue being so cryptic.”

You groaned a bit, not able to handle the thought of him getting no rest just because of your silly mind. “I’m just thinking about how sad it is that the cold gets such a bad rap.” As you explained that, you noticed how his face contorted into a mixed expression of confusion and amusement. You gave him time to speak, ready to hear him laugh or tell you to put you and your crazy mind to bed. Nothing was said by him, seemingly waiting to hear your intense thoughts at three in the morning. “It’s always talked about like some heartless, lifeless thing, but it’s not! Ice cream is cold and it’s one of my favorite things! In winter, you can wear cute coats and scarves, warm up with hot chocolate, and snuggle up by the fire. Plus, snow is so pretty. When it falls…it’s so comforting. I just… I wish people saw all the good in it that I do.” You glanced up at him, still waiting for him to roll his eyes.

Instead, he only looked at you softly- lovingly. With a little tug, he pulled you closer, lying back down while tucking your head under his chin. “I see. So, you think winter is sad that so many people dislike it?” He adjusted the blanket around you both, making sure your heads were comfortably on the pillows.

For some reason, you felt like crying. Maybe it was just because you were sleep deprived. Or perhaps it was because you tended to forget how safe of a space Zayne was. He’d joke with you, follow along with the bits you came up with, even listen to whatever you had to say running on four hours of sleep like he’d also gotten a degree in therapy. “I bet it gets lonelier than the other seasons…”

“Hm.” He closed his eyes, and for a moment you thought he’d fallen back asleep. When he spoke again, his voice lowered, his face nuzzling your head ever so slightly. “I think…that the snow is content enough being loved by you.” Zayne’s body was warm. Perfectly so. His hand ran up and down your back in slow hypnotizing rubs.

“I’m just one person in a world with millions of people… It deserves more than just me.” You were starting to feel drowsy now, eyelids going heavy at a rapid pace. A little moan rumbled in your throat as you shifted about to get comfortable, turning on your other side so Zayne was curled against your back. His presence was like a soothing blanket, your body enveloped and protected from things that might do you harm. Ever your valiant healer even outside of battle.

A kiss pressed into the back of your shoulder as you slotted yourself against him, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece. “I don’t think it’s greedy,” he whispered softly. “It sees the way you rush outside to greet it when it’s snowing, even if you’re not wearing something warm. It’s happy to take on the role of being cold so your hot chocolate tastes that much better, feeling the heat run down your throat…into your stomach…sinking down into your toes.” The way he was speaking was slow and purposefully melodic, like the narration of those resting meditation videos. He was trying to put you to sleep. Zayne took a deep breath, like he was minutes away from falling asleep himself, forcing himself to stay awake until he knew you were at peace. “It’s glad to make the world quieter so you can find yourself drifting off much easier.” He kissed the back of your head, resting his face against your body with a large exhale.

For a moment, you listened to the soft sounds of his breathing, staring at the subtle rays of moonlight seeping through past the curtains. All the strange anxiety that had kept you up melted away. You had to admit to yourself that you weren’t quite worried about the winter at all. But you weren’t sure where the doubt came from. Here he was, making you feel loved like you never had before. “You think so?”

“I know so. The winter will…always be there for you. Forever.” A small waver of emotion filled his voice.

“And my love, like winter, will be eternal for you…”

With one last squeeze, he laughs. “Oh? And here I was thinking we were talking about snow, but I’m flattered.” Words laced with mirth, he tried to pass off that he wasn’t aware of the true meaning behind your worries the whole time. You jabbed him a bit in the ribs with your elbow. In return, he used his Evol to press an icy cold hand against your back.

In the end, you both ended up not getting much sleep at all anyway, but neither of you cared in the slightest.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I was over an hour late for the gym tonight, spending the better part of the day in bed staring at the ceiling, and occasionally typing out an apology text to Ash that I would immediately delete.

I had hoped that everyone else would be gone by the time I arrived, but Dawn and Phoenix were still lingering by the climbing machines when I walked in, so I tried (and failed) to avoid them by sneaking up the stairs to the treadmills. Dawn caught up with me before I even reached the first step and knew immediately something was wrong. She insisted on waiting around for me so we could walk home together.

I was annoyed at first, wanting to be alone, but by the time we’re throwing on our sweaters and beanies, I’m glad. Afterall, I’m getting nowhere on my own, just spinning myself in circles. Talking to Dawn is one of those things I avoid until I can’t, and then always wish I’d done sooner.  

“So, what’s wrong?” Dawn asks as soon as we step outside. It’s dark out, making it feel much later than it is, and I can already feel the weight of the season settling in. Winter is always the hardest for me, and Spring is still so far away.

I’m not sure where to start so I just blurt out, “I screwed things up with Asher yesterday.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, he’s tired of my mixed signals.”

“Have you been giving mixed signals?”

I give her a guilty look as I nod solemnly.

“What haven’t you told me?”

Everything. But it’s too much to get into, and the details aren’t important, and she knows me well enough that I'm sure she can fill in the blanks, so I tell her, “It doesn’t matter,” to which she gives me an annoyed look but let's me continue, “But he got pissed and stormed out. I can’t blame him. I don’t know what my problem is.”

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Please.”

“Have you ever heard the quote, ‘A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it’?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I get that you’re tired of losing people. And I know that causes you to keep most people at arm’s length. It may feel like you’re protecting yourself, but you’re not. You will continue to lose people if you keep pushing them away.”

“Maybe. But it will hurt less if they leave without getting too close.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” It feels true.

“Did it hurt when Asher stormed out yesterday?”

Point taken. “Like I was being ripped apart.”

“So, why are pushing him away? You’re only causing the pain you’re trying to avoid.”

“I don’t want to. Not anymore. But it’s like, I don’t know how not to. I can’t explain it. Just, the idea of taking that step, I feel like it won’t take long for him to see that I’m not who he thinks I am, that he’ll realize I’m not someone he can…” My voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Love?”

The mere mention of the word causes my chest to tighten. I feel my mind wanting to shrug off the very idea of it. So impossible that I feel silly even considering it.

“Oh Atlas. It’s not true,” she insists. “That was the kind of shit mom and dad put in our heads. And I get it, I felt like that too for a long time. I just handled it differently. I chased love as if someone else could come in and take that feeling away. But that just made me toxic and clingy and insufferable. It was my own version of pushing people away. And every time they left it felt like proof that I was right, that I wasn’t worth loving. But it wasn’t true, was it?”

“No.”

“It’s not true for you either.”

I understand what she’s saying, and logically I know she’s right, but there’s a part of me deep down that rejects it.

When I try to continue walking, she stops me, placing a hand over my heart, “I love you, Atlas. And not just because you’re my brother. Because you are caring and kind and gentle and loyal and supportive and I could go on forever. Not only are you worthy of love, but it is impossible not to love you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and I can tell from the look on her face that she’s sincere. “Thank you.” I reach out and give her the biggest hug I ever have. She’s surprised at first, but hugs me back, squeezing me tight. I don't think either of us realized how much I needed to hear those words. We don't say them often, it doesn't come naturally to either of us, it's usually just implied in the ways we support each other, but maybe we should be saying the words more often. "I love you too."

“So, what am I supposed to do?” I ask as we step apart and start walking again. 

“Do you want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

“Then go talk to him. And be honest.”

“What if it’s too late?”

“Then I’ll be here for you. But there’s only one way to find out.”

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

First years + Grim ‐ With Silly & Strong Male Reader

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To @kawaistrawberry21 I hope you like this! I'm not good at being funny, so I just went with the silly and strong thing. The reader is in Ramshackle but is NOT Yuu. The reader CAN use magic but is naturally very physically strong. The reader's physique is described as tall and muscular. The reader is silly in a sort of oblivious and sarcastic way. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

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The demon-weasel-cat magician thing, Grim.

Grim actually met you after the orientation ceremony; when he was tossed out by the Headmage, Dire Crowley.

Apparently, the Dark Mirror believed that you weren't fit for any of the dorms inspired by the great seven, but it would be a waste of potential for you not to attend Night Raven College.

Thus, you were sent on your way to the Ramshackle dorm. And that's when you two bumped into each other, literally; his flight from the hall of mirrors exit door had come to an end on impact with your hard, muscled back.

You were at first distracted from him; not even registering that he had hit you. Your mind is occupied with finding your magical pen which you seemed to have misplaced. That was the reason you had given yourself for uprooting one of the many stone benches that lined the walkway; totally not just to see if you could lift it, definitely not.

After you had realized that something had hit your back, you turned and looked around with a "Hm?", only to see nothing. Shrugging, you made your way to the Ramshackle dorm, unknowing of the cat-like monster that clung to the back of your orientation robes.

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The literal bane of my existence, Ace Trappola.

He first met you when he went to the Ramshackle dorm to spend the night after he was collared by Riddle. Though, instead of Yuu, it was you who had ended up letting him in.

However, you seemed to have accidentally ripped the door right off its hinges. Ace was appalled at the raw strength you displayed, but he got a good chuckle in when you had said "Magical tape from Sam's and a little elbow grease should do the trick." before dramatically flexing your arms.

Then, after he had explained his situation to both you and Yuu, you had offered to go with him to apologize.

When Ace asked why you would help him when the two of you had just met, you explained how even if you never ended up meeting him personally or even learning his name, you would always help out your peers whenever you had the chance.

You had told Ace how you had been in a similar situation and that even if you felt that you'd done nothing wrong, you had still ended up apologizing at the end. Explaining to him that it was better to apologize and move on than to have someone angry at you over something that could be solved so easily.

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🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

Our resident ex-delinquent, Deuce Spade.

You actually met him in class when the both of you were paired together for a project.

It was going well at first until you kept accidentally breaking the flasks and test tubes needed to complete the project. Deuce got a little heated and grabbed you up by your shirt collar, to which you easily removed his hands.

You then came up with the idea of using folded notebook paper to hold the various spilled and somehow not mixed ingredients. "Paper funnels are useful for holding all sorts of powders if you catch my drift." Deuce, in fact, did not catch your drift.

The poor boy had a panic attack at the thought of failing the project; rambling about how disappointed his mother would be in him. Deuce was hyperventilating and unable to calm himself on his own; so you took the initiative to remind him to breathe. You encouraged him to use you to ground himself so he could calm down.

After that little hiccup, you both agreed that Deuce would manage the fragile items from then on.

You both got an A- on the project.

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

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The goodest boy who's ever lived, Jack Howl.

He met you just before Magishift season came up. He had decided to use the NRC's weight room to train his body before the event. You were already there, working out.

Jack couldn't help but notice the absurd amount of weight you were lifting and was in disbelief at the sight of you not even breaking a sweat. He thought that was pretty admirable, but didn't approach you at first; you were a stranger after all.

It seemed he didn't even need to make the first move as you had approached him first; starting up a conversation about fitness and hobbies involving exercise. Over a few days, the two of you started talking and found that you got along quite well and became close friends in a very short amount of time.

One day Jack brought up the possibility of learning your training regiment and trying it out for himself. You supported him wholeheartedly and even gave him a really inspiring and touching pep talk.

You also told him if his muscles ever hurt too much after a workout, you'd carry him wherever he needs to go. He gave you a playfully annoyed look, lightly punching your arm.

The weight room is now your little hole in the wall to hang out at.

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The manliest man in Pomfiore, Epel Felmier.

Epel first met you in the NRC's cafeteria, while he was trying to escape the beautifying clutches of his dorm head and vice dorm head.

He had quite literally bumped into you, startling you to the point of your muscles tensing, causing you to snap your lunch tray in half with your bare hands. Your lunch landed on the ground with an unceremonious 'plop'. You sulked, your large stature slouching and shoulders slumping as you let out a defeated, "Aw man..."

Epel turned to see just who he'd bumped into and he turned pale while also feeling some sort of admiration. The boy in front of him towered over him, he looked like he could snap Epel in half like a twig.

Oops. He said that out loud.

You'd let out a hearty laugh and thanked Epel for his strangely worded compliment; telling him you worked out occasionally. His eyes sparkled as he clasped his hands in front of him and begged you to teach him your ways.

Epel told you of his dilemma; how he felt emasculated by his feminine appearance and below-average strength. However, you assured him that he was perfectly manly just the way he was and that if he didn't see it, you would keep on telling him until he believed it himself.

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My favorite half-fae first year, Sebek Zigvolt!

He met you in passing while escorting Malleus to his class. Your unique look seemed to have caught the dragon fae's attention for a few moments before he returned his focus to the hallway in front of him.

That's all it took for Sebek to absolutely despise you; for a bit at least. A mere human caught his master's attention!? How dare they!! And after a small mention of how you, a mere human, may make a good knight from Malleus; Sebek made up his mind and went to confront you.

When he finds you, he challenges you to a duel in swordsmanship that you confusedly agree to.

At first, he had the upper hand due to your lack of knowing how to properly use a sword. He knocked you down continuously, yet you kept getting back up and refused to back down.

Then suddenly, with a burst of confidence, you swung your sword with great force, unintentionally using your full strength. Both swords shatter on impact and Sebek is thrown back onto his butt.

You look at the broken metal on the ground in embarrassment, bringing your hand up to cup the back of your neck.

"Uuuh.... Whoops?..."

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The enigmatic boy from another world; Yuu.

He met you when he and Grim first came to Ramshackle Dorm. You were standing in front of a broken door in the common room, presumably one that was already broken judging by the state of the dorm itself. He cleared his throat to get your attention, then introduced himself and you both hit it off from there.

Yuu unfortunately found out about your ridiculous strength when, while cutting the steak on your plate during dinner, you accidentally cut your plate clean in half. Then the table itself unceremoniously snapped in half right where your plate was sitting. To say Yuu was traumatized was an understatement. He was horrified.

What the hell did you eat to be able to cut through porcelain like it's butter? And then the table!? Then you dared to look shocked? Wtf? Was everyone in this world freakishly strong?

Yuu could only stare at you silently like you were some sort of alien, causing you to look away guiltily.

"...Sorry..."

👻•♡•👻•♡•👻•♡•👻•♡•👻•♡•👻•♡•👻•♡•👻

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

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[kittehbiscuits]

please tell me about your keatlejuice thoughts i am desperate for an analysis of him that isn’t just Evil

EDIT BC APPARENTLY PUTTING IT ALL OVER THE TAGS WASN'T ENOUGH: BEETLEBABES DNI!!!! HOLY SHIT DAWG PLEASE I'M BEGGING 🙏 😭

Omg haiiiii hiiii taps mic is this on yess hellow *shuffles with notes*

warning this will probably be a LONG post

enjoy :3

Ok. So. Keatlejuice. Movie Beetlejuice. 600 year old man. Alive during the 1300s AKA the black death in Europe (proved by the second movie). In the original script for the movie he is described as "vaguely middle-eastern" which is probably racist BUT I have decided to interpret that as a potential ancestry for him.

In the musical he is heavily implied to be Jewish so I was thinkinggg maybe his family is a Jewish family that originated in the Middle East and migrated to Europe.

Every time I've tried to find how he died (pre-sequel) I find the same result but NO source for it. EVEN ON THE WIKI THERE ISN'T A SOURCE

ANYWAY this kind of paints a picture on his life when he was alive, the movie says he was a grave robber so obviously a peasant scraping by to survive. Betelgeuse is not someone who I can imagine surviving in any society based on. social skills. he's kind of a goofy silly guy I don't think he can relate to most of the people around him especially with disease rampant I don't think he has many people in his life. With this need for survival I think he's adopted quite the antisocial personality.

People around you die, you go through their pockets for cash, thus is life. Definitely not a pleasant person to be around and so I don't think he ever tries to be, even long after his death. He knows something is fundamentally wrong with him and he embraces that for the sake of survival.

I'm gonna be so honest I cast him with the MOMMY ISSUES BEAM GRAHHHH I'm sure his mother passed during his life due to disease or tons of other mideival shit. (I will bring this up later just put a pin in it) Betelgeuse is suuuuper silly goofy in the brain (depression and BPD possibly) and I personally imagine him as surprisingly. Calm. As a human. Not kind, but not exactly the manic personality he embraces in the movies.

It's near the end of his life when he believes there isn't anything left for him in life, he never grew or got better he only fell deeper into the deep pit of depravity he dug himself into. I think near the end is when he acted the most like his movie self, erratic and selfish not afraid to draw attention hoping it would make him feel better somehow.

So. I have absolutely no idea how he bagged Delores to be honest but in MY interpretation (with a mix of the sequel's lore) Delores dies, and I think that's his final straw. Either by his own hand or unrelated events losing her as the only thing of value in his shitty mideival peasant life means he's done for (he's 30-something btw). He cuts off her ring finger and hangs himself.

Of course, that isn't the end, He wakes up, still hanging, and rips and tears at the rope, shredding his nails and skin until finally it snaps dropping him to the floor. In a delirious state he looks around. A woman stands above him, slit throat wafting smoke, and tosses him a striped uniform.

Some backstory on prison uniforms:

Using this article and just some research from my memory, prison uniforms are made to identify a man as a criminal, to emasculate them and take away individuality. The stripes can even represent the bars of a prison cell, making the person wearing the uniform feel like they have no escape from their criminal identity. ANYWAYYYYY (sorry I have beef with the justice system)

Suicidees in the Neitherworld are made civil servants. It's their debt to pay for the crime of killing themselves and in the movie both Juno and Betelgeuse are among those ranks.

In my interpretation, when Betelgeuse dies Juno isn't at the rank she's at in the movie and she guides suicidees to their new job. As she rised the ranks, she employed Betelgeuse as an assistant (I don't really think he could find any other purpose for himself in this strange new afterlife, and it's not like he has a choice.)

This is where the mommy issues come in wheroeowheh soo Juno is an older woman and authority figure so I think *PLATONICALLY* Betelgeuse has sort of an attachement to her because of that, she's the only anchor he's got in the Neitherworld after all.

As he gets a better handle on things, he does what he always does, he finds shifty places to lurk and loopholes to slip through. Now that he's dead, he doesn't need to worry about his personal safety anymore (not that he did before) and being dead has given him powers he's never had before. He starts his bio-exorcism business a hundred or two years after dying. It's not really about the money, but the control it gives him and something he's *meant* to do, that he made for himself and wasn't picking from the scraps of others.

After a while he starts slacking on his civil services. So far he's ridden on Juno's coattails and found his way around the legal system easily enough so he uses it to help his guide job instead. He gets cocky, Juno is pissed because he's not doing any work after all she gave him (oughh mother thinking moment) and fires him. It goes over very poorly, Betelgeuse gets his nose broken (300 something years after death) And becomes purely a bio-exorcist.

OKAY THAT IS ALL FOR NOW honestly I could ramble forever but it's late and I must go but if anyone has any questions please feel free to ask!!!

(Also he's pansexual and genderfluid on top of all of that but he doesn't figure that out until the 90's)

[beomanamilk]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ chalk n’ cheese!

chapter twelve - bullshit

warnings - cursing obviously, mentions drinking alcohol, mostly written chapter; 585 words

you sigh as you tuck your constantly buzzing phone into your pocket.

it seems replying to tweets about you with snarky remarks was not the best idea, as your phone has been blowing up with a mix of both prayers and death threats, all directed to you because of sick rumors.

more specifically a rumor that choi beomgyu had spread. the same choi beomgyu that you’re shamefully walking towards the front doors of your school to meet.

even before the rumors, for someone like you, dating a loser like beomgyu would have most definitely been considered social suicide.

but you suppose you’ve had enough of that now, so a little totally friendly apology hangout wouldn’t be too bad for your ego.

walking down the halls, you’ve grown used to the stares of others. you’ve grown used to the whispered insults and the crumpled, wet pieces of paper slapping you in the face, although they’re all things you thought ended in high school.

as you push the doors open and step outside, it should be hard to find beomgyu in the crowd of people talking with friends or desperately trying to escape the school, but it isn’t.

he is the only one who is still. he wears headphones around his neck and leans against a railing.

you can tell he’s nervous. his bottom lip is pressed hard between his teeth and his fingers tap nervously at his phone screen. you wonder if he’s texting heeseung.

slowly, you walk towards him, feeling yourself, too becoming nervous.

he doesn’t notice you until you’re standing right in front of him, and he looks up at you with scarily cute puppy eyes, so cute that you have to stop your eyes from widening in shock.

you look down and kick at a rock to distract yourself, mumbling a short, “hi.”

beomgyu suddenly stands up from the railing, and you glance up to see him with a smile on his face.

“you actually came!” he states the obvious.

you roll your eyes, “it’s not like i have anything better to do.”

you want to wipe the adorable grin off his face, but it seems near impossible as it only grows every passing second.

he takes your hand and gently urges you to walk with him.

you gulp at the abrupt contact, eyes glancing over at how softly his warm hand is wrapped around your own.

how long has it been since you even touched anyone that wasn’t your friends or family??

you want to pull away, but his smooth, pretty hand is hard to resist.

he looks back at you, still beaming like a little kid as he tells you, “i have something planned, but it’s a little while away. maybe 15 minutes. are you okay to walk?”

you mentally slap yourself at your sudden shyness.

“yeah, that’s fine.” your voice is quiet.

he smiles smugly at you like he knows something you don’t, and you narrow your eyes at him.

even with his silly smile and big eyes, you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks.

you have to blink hard to stop yourself from staring back at him in a way you shouldn’t for someone you dislike so much.

“what’s wrong with you…?” you ask him, voice far too quiet and innocent sounding for your liking.

what the hell is he doing to you?

“nothing.” he says, but his smug smile is still apparent as he turns away from you to focus on the path ahead.

total bullshit.

notes : cliffhanger! (this was so lazy i’m sorry)

[arkos404]

lawful joke au: lil bug

the obligatory 'lawful joke, a personality swap, by @chaosaliien', these have been sitting on my drafts for like 4 months so i figured its abt time to share them, i present to you all the lil bug

a silly scenario/arc where scrabby gets hurt and somehow one of his lil bug parts end up in the timecube to be found by prism, who, having no idea that its a part of/is scrabby, adopts it to be his pet bug. he names it scarab as an inside joke/lack of creativity lol

the lil bug pretty much works on og scrabby's instincts/subcouncious/inner thoughts, at the start lil bug tried to leave and go back to scrabby, but after being showered in prism's attention it quickly changed course and decided to stay

prism had been developing an interest in bugs, at this point he was crushing on scrabby but justified his interest as a cientific curiosity, so he was happy when the opportunity to have a bug himself was presented to him.

scrabby has mixed feelings on the situation, lil bug is still a part of him so he can hear what the lil bug does and feel phantom touches, and prism has a lot of free time to now spend with his pet bug and is a bug person apparently because he never stops cooing at it.

scrabby enjoys the attention but has no idea how to cope with the sheer amount of attention prism is freely giving him/lil bug especially when normally he would never say those things to him

sometimes he's talking with someone and will pause mid sentence and blush furiously because of something prism just said, leaving the other person very confused. he visits the timecube less and less because he's too flustered to look prism in the eyes, he starts to lose sleep, not being able to clear his head with prism's voice constantly on his ear.

he tries to go to the timecube himself to get the lil bug but its insistent on staying with prism and he doesnt want to explain the situation to prism because itll be embarassing for both of them. he resents the lil bug both because of jealousy ("it shouldve been me!" <- its literally a part of him lmao) and because he's been put in this weird situation by it chosing to stay with prism instead of coming back to him

prism's cooing is usually the regular pet owner babytalk, but it often comes out sounding weird, especially for scrabby who already has a crush on prism and has nothing but phantom touches and hearing to give him context abt whats happening

these occurances are the biggest reason for scrabby's lack of sleep, when he's working or just focusing on something else he can tune it out, but when he's trying to sleep and has no distractions it all comes flooding in

lil bug and jake/nightm hate each other, mostly because me and jules thought itd be funny if the two characters who had a lot in common, both being little shits who were the personification of their counterpart's inner subcouncious and constantly fucked them over, absolutely despised each other

nightm tries to get rid of lil bug many times (all of them foiled by lil bug or prism) and to out it to prism as the little menace it is, though it never works, for prism lil bug is a little angel who can do no wrong (in prism's defense lil bug is only a menace to jake and scrabby lmao)

the arc would end with prism realizing that scrabby was visiting the timecube less and getting restless/on edge whenever he dropped by and he thought it was some kind of territory thing between bugs. not wanting to risk scrabby to stop coming, he lets the lil bug go saying something about while he loves lil bug he's not prism's bug, and that that space is reserved for someone else.

prism is bummed for a while but the next day scrabby comes over and is back to his normal self and even more enlivened (he heard what prism said and was super giddy) so prism knows it was worth it

--

this idea started w me and jules talking about prism adopting a pet bug (inspired by @/xanderindisguis's business bug au) and scrabby, jealous of the attention this random bug was getting, got one of his little forms to infiltrate prism's terrarium. but it evolved to what we have now, here's some doodles of the outdated concept

also tagging @garbashedump bc she helped develop it

putting these under read more lol

[aylinhadtimeforthis]

Dead Poets Society As Dogs

so I'd come up with this concept a long while ago but decided to post it here bc why not so here goes lol

Neil: Brown Golden Retriever

I really tried going off their colour, size, shape language, vibes and personality and all that, and Neil DEFFO has golden retriever energy but the darker colour helps him contrast with Todd and also is in reference to his life and looks more

Todd: Cream Labrador

Honestly I don't know what other dog to have put for Todd this is the best fit I think He is calm and chill like labs but also wouldn't hesitate to defend his friends and stand his ground :)

Chris: Samoyed

I really didn't wanna put Chris as a light (esp white) coloured dog bc of her connotations with light colours but 😭 It literally fits so well hskdhbfjhds she looks so pretty I couldn't not do it :") and also there's not many darker dogs that fit her vibe :( She can still accessorize in darker colours tho ofc ofc

Ginny: Blue Heeler

Nah C'MON this is SUCH a Ginny dog like the bluish blackish warmish greyish patterns on the fur is like exactly what I think she'd wear and the dark round patterns are reminiscent to her dark wavy hair :)

Dalton: Husky-Chi

This was the only one that made a little sense to me tbh 😭 I literally tried looking for so many types of small dogs but they all looked weird and unfitting and wrong so this is the best I got 💀 Also apparently their personalities are quite unpredictable and "mystic" which I think matches pretty well with her impulsive and creative sense

Knox: German Shepherd Hound Mix

This is such a Knox dog omg look at him he's got the same cowardly mopey doe eyed look the lil freak always has I love him I esp wanted a dog that would be of a bigger build but more quiet and kinda scared looking like Knox is, and I think it worked p well with the hound addition bc german shepherds are guard and fighting dogs and the mix totally subverting that threatening appearance fits pretty well with Knox's lack of interest in getting involved with trouble or scuffs Also he looks like he'd give good hugs which :))))))

Pitts: Husky

THAT IS LITERALLY A PITTS DOG C'MON LOOK AT MY BOY THAT IS HIM I LOVE HIM

Meeks: Orange Poodle

Meeks would always accompany you and chill out with you but also judge you to the ends of hell and back and I feel like this is the right dog to convey that through Also it has his curly ginger hair :)

Cameron: Finnish Spitz

Who's a good pretty little bitch boy? You are yeah. Now THAT'S a Cameron dog if I've ever seen one istg it's got the colour the cut the expressions and everything- also there's this title of an article I found hsjkhsdjhfbjt-

-So true bestie too much crazy Cameron barking can be hazardous to your health anyway I hope you enjoyed this silly species-bend post or whatever one'd call it lol I just thought it'd be interesting to make :)

[spicy--meatball]

ranking 550+ music genres: PART 1

i lied, this is happening before thursday. i plan on having this be three posts a week (tentatively wednesday, friday, and sunday) so i have time to listen to each genre and give my thoughts on them. i originally planned for this to be 10 genres in one post once a week, but considering how much ive written for this post im going to reduce it to 2-3 genres per post because im only allowed to post ten audios per post lmao.

one more thing before we begin, obviously im not a music expert. i make mistakes and am sometimes uninformed. if you feel like theres a correction to be made about something i said, i'll hear you out, just dont be a dick about it.

anyway, LETS BEGIN!

(1) 16-Bit

i used to listen to a lot of 8-bit and 16-bit music when i was in middle and early high school while i was writing or drawing. i understand how this music sparked some creativity in me back then, its generally whimsical but highly variable in mood.

theres also a lot of charm in the creativity that comes out of the limits akin to those that music-makers back in the 80s or 90s had when making video game soundtracks. there are sometimes other instruments, like electric guitars, more modern synths, piano, etc, but they mix well with the square, sine, and triangle waves used in this type of music.

that being said, while 16-bit is charming, it is not a genre i would listen to regularly, so it is going in the "i would not listen to this regularly but i respect it" tier. (be prepared, theres several weirdly specific tiers like this).

16-Bit song recs

(2) 2 Tone

based on the genre's name, i expected this genre to be similar to 16-bit. i was very wrong! this is not even remotely close to 16-bit. this is music i would expect to hear while watching a sped-up, comedic clip from the 80s of some guy who stole something silly from someone and is now running away from the cops. the audio would hypothetically be sped up too. think that one scene in A Christmas Story where ralph's bullies are chasing him down the street and his younger brother is struggling to catch up.

apparently "Our House" by Madness is 2 Tone? i hear this song regularly at work. that was a surprise to click on. though this song differs a lot in vibe from the songs i described while listening to previously.

i have yet to figure out why this genre is called 2 tone. i could look it up but that kind of ruins the fun of trying to form a critical thought. at the very least, i can say this genre sounds similar to ska. i still cant believe Our House is mixed in with all these songs.

anyway, "pretty good" tier genre.

2 Tone song recs

(3) Acapella

i cant be the only one whose only exposure to acapella so far has been during december when pentatonix pops up everywhere. its impressive what people can do with nothing but vocals.

i dont have much else to add unfortunately. "i would not listen to this regularly but i respect it" tier.

Acapella song recs

i love lady gaga and i appreciate the acapella rendition these guys did.

the tiers themselves as well as my rankings of each genre are subject to change as i see fit, but this is how it stands as of now. stay tuned for the next post!

[joseopher]

Let's talk about how Callum desperately wants to be liked by Tristan in the "what we had was significant" scene.

"Liked" is perhaps not the word considering that he is partly trying to upset him with the whole Rhodes situation. Yes, he's presenting Tristan with the fact that Libby needs to set off a nuclear bomb because he promised he would find out how to get her back buuuuuut he is also presenting the knowledge specifically to Tristan, with no interest to present it to anyone else.

And thinks this:

"Which was thoroughly impossible. A comedy of errors to the highest degree. And this was who Tristan had chosen over Callum! This was what he had done, and in the murky plumbing of Callum’s allegedly nonexistent heart, he hoped that Tristan suffered for it."

This is punishment. This is jealousy. This is also a cry for attention.

The main reason I'm making this post is that Callum is constantly applying techniques from "How to Win Friends and Influence People":

"For example, one way to make people like you was to smile, which Callum winningly employed now."

Why is he applying this?

A) For the irony

B) Because he is a petty bitch

C) Because he is a sad lonely man that connected his sense of love to Tristan and then was betrayed by him and still longs for his attention

D) Because he wants to be liked by Tristan specifically despite how he says he doesn't want to be liked in book 1 (perhaps he wants more complicated emotions than liked, he wants to be remembered, he wants to matter to someone)

E) All of the above

E IS WHAT I THINK THE ANSWER IS! LISTEN THESE CHARACTERS' EMOTIONS ARE COMPLICATED!

Tell me doesn't want Tristan's attention after reading this line:

"And yet, I am the only one in this house who’s been any help to you at all, Tristan, so you’re welcome."

It's not only that he wants to be "liked" by Tristan. It's mixed up with several other emotions as well but wanting to be "liked" is also there.

The punishment theme is there as well mixed in with bitterness of the world, Callum knew he shouldn't have gotten attached but he did anyway:

"This was just the world. You trusted people, you loved them, you offered them the dignity of your time and the intimacy of your thoughts and the frailty of your hope and they either accepted it and cared for it or they rejected it and destroyed it and in the end, none of it was up to you. This was just what you got. Heartbreak was inevitable. Disappointment assured."

Then Callum claims he's fine for no reason, which just further emphasizes he's not:

"Honestly, Callum was doing just fine with his grief."

His grief over being betrayed? Being almost murdered? Grief over losing Tristan?

Likely all of them.

Then he admits that Tristan is correct about the "what we had was significant" speech:

"Mostly, though, Callum wanted Tristan to suffer profoundly for every honest word out of his mouth."

This speaks for itself.

I will conclude this with Callum's parting words to Tristan:

"Callum exhaled. And smiled. People did not like to be contradicted, said Dale Carnegie, master of influencing, apparently. It was best not to criticize, even when people were wrong about silly things like where they had placed their loyalties.

'Good luck,' said Callum. 'With everything. Hope it works out between you and Rhodes.'"

WHY IS HE APPLYING THESE TACTICS??

A) For the irony

B) Because he is a petty bitch— *GETS SHOT BEFORE I CAN TALK ABOUT THIS FOR 100K WORDS*

[pitynostars]

ok so first things first, i loooove gatwa's doctor so much already. if nothing else, i love the masterclass in acting he's putting on, his expressiveness is so impressive. he brings a very fun energy to the role

the church on ruby road has me feeling a bit mixed as well. the plot was kind of meh, and i didn't like how in the alternate universe ruby's mum was just so mean without her. it didn't make sense. like what makes ruby so special, hm 🤨 what's this one white blond baby got that all the other babies in the world don't 🤨 i know the point was to show how much ruby meant to her mum, but like. there are other ways to do it than have a complete 180 in characterization.

i'm honestly not super interested in the mystery of ruby's parentage (which apparently seems like it will be a huge thing unless they're just making stuff up to fake us out, in which case, good on them). but i don't want it to be some big reveal i'm sorry 😩 especially not because if it is, people will bend over backwards to say how great storytelling it is when they'd never say that if moffat did a plot like this. i hadn't even considered the possibility really, when i'd first watched it, i thought it's just not that deep, but maybe i'm wrong. the people who are theorizing that ruby is rose and tentoo's daughter are sooo funny though like

ur only saying that because she's blond and we all know nobody on this show can be blond without being related to The Blond(tm) 🙄

that literally means they abandoned their kid. yes. such good parents 😫

i also feel like we didn't....really get to know ruby that well? i'll reserve judgement to give them more time obviously, and millie seems very green (not a judgement on her, and she and ncuti seem to have a lot of fun energy together) so there's still time and there's a lot of time in general for the stories to get going, and it had to do double duty as a christmas special and an intro episode for both new doctor and new companion so like, my feelings may also change with time. anyways those are my thots for now

yesss i was sold on gatwa very quickly i just hope he doesn't become 10th doctor rehash number 2345932853845 i am so tired. give him something new. also praying him and ruby don't have a romance angle there were a couple of moments in CORR i was like. GOD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NOT AGAIN.

CORR plot being meh i agreeee but also xmas specials plot is a lot of times like a wafer and as someone who watched it quite roasted ngl i kinda appreciated it 😂

YEAH omhg tho with ruby disappearing and her mum (i want to say carla??) completely changing as a person??? i get that the point was supposed to be like one little change can make such an impact etc etc as well. but also i was just like. .... ok but what about the other kids wasnt good enuf ???? maybe i'm a cynic lol. but fr have another MORE kids on the wall bc she's trying to fill a gap she doesn't know is from what !!!! IMAGINE.... especially with it being sort of set up as a doctor/companions parallel oh my god

nooo oh my god i know what you mean about rubys parents i like that theyre setting it up as a counter to 13s "it doesn't matter i'm good as i am my past doesnt define me" etc. but i really want it to not be interesting. i want her parents to just be like. normal people who had to make a hard choice lol. oh my god. i just realised. we're gonna go thru a fucking rey star wars arc with her im gonna lose it byee... imagine she ends the series like "im ruby doctor" :) i would quit watching.

but yeah 100% it's gonna be a big thing. atm i dont care but i guess we'll see and hope they do something interesting with it.... prayers she's an alien tbf

rose and tentoo would be terrible parents tbf i said what i said.

YEAH i know what you mean i feel like that about gatwa too i think its hard making the first intro for both an xmas special because it has to be kinda silly and rompy so you cant rlly get too into the grit of the characters?? still reserving judgement on them both, but its taken me a while to warm up to like. everyone in dr who since bill--- wait i take that back i loved bel in flux from like her first scene but she's not a doc or companion.

[the-sour-patch-crew]

Me, every time I think more and more about having OSDD and exactly how far back it may actually go.

I know for a FACT late in life trauma absolutely affected my sense of self and plurality. That's a given. It also took my neurodivergancy up quite a few notches, but that's another story.

I also know I got a lot of things from childhood that I've been realizing over the past few years where actually traumatic, and I've got a whole bag full of trauma responses as proof. Doesn't mean it gave me a CDD, but I can't deny trauma is there at the very least.

But I also know that without a doubt, the plurality I was experiencing prior to my later trauama was entirely an endogenic experience. Every single interaction matches up with what we currently know about plurality outside of CDDs.

So. Once I get to finally sharing all our "lore" with someone who can accurately diagnose what's going on up in this skull, and if it turns out they think I've had a CDD prior to my late 20s, I still don't think I'd ever drop the mixed origin label. Because the plurality I was experiencing back then vs now is still wildly different. I don't think its ableist of me to think this way because it would be more ableist of me to assume that someone with a CDD can't also experience concepts like the multiple selves theory, Jungian archetypes, or creative muses. The sense of self and how we interact with our own understanding of the self and subconscious is not limited to if you do or do not have a CDD. Sure, things become wildly more complex with a CDD, but I wouldn't say it's impossible to still experience endogenic plurality in a pure state before or after a CDD becomes fully apparent or alters develop. I don't think it's wrong to use both to describe your system or plural experience as a whole. Origins are honestly stupid to debate over. I just like being able to share and relate with others. Talking about how endogenic and traumagenic plurality can coexist brings me a lot of dopamine and gets my little fox brain doing the silly thing like in the gif. It's simply, fun.

People don't have to use labels. I just want to stop seeing people throw out how ableist it is to use a label that best matches an experience. Are people just pissed at the label? Or are people pissed at the implications? Or just pissed at seeing different experiences? Why can't we just have nice discussions? I LOVE seeing similar experiences to mine on Tumblr and I don't give a damn on what label they choose to use. I just want discussions on similarities, differences, what helps, what doesn't, and the ilk. Discussions bring about progress and understanding. Hate don't do shit.

[loverboy-cc]

I think the reason Halsin and Zevlor (and Jaheria but I don’t post about her often) appeal to me so much as characters is bc they’re old and queer. Halsins varied queerness is an inherent fact of his character, and I heavily hc Zev as a cis gay man and jaheria as a straight transfem.

I only recently realized why I like that so much, it’s because it’s incredibly likely I won’t get old.

Tw. Death, graphic descriptions of chronic illness, mention of genocide, violence fuelled by bigotry.

I’m kinda just rambling in hopes that maybe someone like me will get comfort from knowing that they’re not alone.

I’m mixed, visibly queer, physically disabled, chronically ill and poor in an extremely conservative area. One of my only clear memories before 2016 is being told I wouldn’t live to see 13 bc of all the things wrong with me. I could drop dead from any number of physical issues, I could be killed for being queer, I could be murdered as a “joke” (this whole thing was prompted by an article about a group of teenagers who pushed a wheelchair user to her death in front of a train a few months back bc they thought it was funny. I was at the exact station where it happened, in my wheelchair, waiting for the train.) because I’m supposed to use a mobility aid, which means murder is okay, apparently.

I don’t know any old queers either, I’m not fond of adult themed events but there was a time when I forced myself to go anyway. Just to see people who really and truly lived.

And there was no one.

I know why there wasn’t, but still.

The oldest queer person I’ve ever known was 37, and 39 when she was murdered.

I suppose I just want to hope that someone like me will be able to grow old, and be truly and completely happy.

A part of me is guilty about that, in a weird sort of way. Be the change you want to see in the world and what have you, but I quite literally can’t.

Protests rarely stay peaceful here bc of pigs (cops) and violence fueled by bigotry. I cannot move fast enough to get away.

I can’t afford to donate, I have to live with two people who are, frankly, incredibly bad for my mental health bc this province believes $500 a month covers rent (if I had to pay rent and not just utilities my third would be close to $600 with 3 people in a 2 bedroom, we could not find a cheaper place.)

I do my daily clicks for Palestine (one on each device + in incognito), I keep myself as up to date as I can handle without breaking down. (Particularly genocide is something that has been a constant in my life, Ukrainian/indigenous, somehow both the 2nd generation to be born in Canada and the 2nd generation to be born off the reserve. I physically cannot handle reading about it without making myself legitimately sick a lot of the time, I’m guilty about that too.)

My silly little pngs don’t have to worry about that. They’re only sad when I say they are, otherwise they are happy and they are loved. Loved in a way I can’t even understand, really. I don’t know what it’s like to sit on a counter and kiss my partner while I’m cooking, I don’t know what it’s like to be domestic. It feels weird and edgy to say but it’s true, I don’t know what life is like without pain and exhaustion and struggle. I have fought tooth and nail to make myself a safe space and still it does not exist outside myself. I have exactly 10.2 square meters that are truly safe, and even when I am safe I am in pain, my joints ache and dislocate and fight me when I try to move.

So I draw my silly little pngs, and hope that someone will eventually be happy like that. Because even when everyone is shitty hope is really fucking important. And I can do that, dear gods I can hope. As hard as I can I hope for change.

[nguyetdahuong]

WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS EXERCISE ⁉️

That’s exactly what we will uncover in the seminar: “HOW DO WE LEARN SECOND LANGUAGE WORDS?” led by Dr. Stuart Webb (PhD)

Dr. Webb walked us through his framework for evaluating the effectiveness of second-language vocabulary learning activities.

Very thorough and academic but he still managed to make it easy to understand and engaging. I think this seminar is not only useful to English teachers/ tutors but also to people who are struggling with 2nd languages in general (me obviously)

After all, if we actually know which practice activities work best, we can adapt them into our learning style. And who doesn’t want to study smarter instead of harder? 🤷‍♀️

Quick Recap:

1. Which words > How many words

In other words, quality over quantity. Instead of cramming as many words as possible, we should focus on the ones that are actually useful - aka the words we hear and use the most.

Cause with rarely used words, we would more likely to forget if we don't use them anyway (duh). Anyway, simple logic, right? However, here's some interesting facts that'll throw you out of your chair :P

2. Frequency levels: why some words matter more

Not all words are created equal. Some words show up way more often than others, and those should be our priority.

For example:

The 1000 most common words cover about 85% of everyday conversations.

The 2000 most common words? Slightly more coverage, but beyond that, the frequency of use drops significantly.

6000-7000 most frequent words families only appear about 0.3% in conversation or TV

Now, quick guess: What frequency level do you think "recycle" belongs to? Make a guess

.

.

.

It’s in the 4k level! Shocking, right? You’d think it’s more common, but apparently, we don’t talk about recycling that much :P

Okay, how about penguin? A silly animal that most people love?

It’s at the 8k level. 😳 Big surprise.

Even though "recycle" feels like a common word, it's actually used less frequently in everyday speech than you'd think. "Penguin" on the other hand, is even rarer in daily conversation (unless you work at a zoo =))))), so it falls into the 8k band. (what a shame btw. We should talk about it more.)

3. Why coursebooks sometimes get it wrong

Now, here’s where things get messy.

Most 6-9-year-long learners never fully master the 1000 most frequent words. Sounds like a big deal, right? You’d think coursebooks would be designed to help with that.

Well… nope. Turns out, a lot of textbook writers pick words based on intuition rather than frequency level. 😬 That’s why some random 4k or even 8k words sneak into English coursebooks while more important words are missing.

And sure, those words are still usable (in some contexts), but will most students remember them? Debatable

That brings us to Dr. Webb’s next point: an educated teacher can provide more useful learning material than a coursebook does.

4. Again, WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS EXERCISE?

The problem with this exercise is the fact that it mix VERY LOW frequency level words like: arid (tf is that), frigid and high frequency level words like snowy and rainy. Guess what words students most likely forget :P

According to Dr. Webb’s 18-question framework for evaluating vocabulary learning activities, this exercise scored a grand total of… 4 points. Well good luck trying to teach students with this exorcist🤷‍♀️

5. Dr. Webb also introduced the idea of avoiding interference - basically, how learning words in certain ways can actually mess with our memory instead of helping it.

Here’s a fun question: How do you usually learn vocab?

Do you group them by theme? Like, all animals in one go? All typof fruits?

Well, guess what? Research shows that when we learn related words together, we actually remember only about 50% of them. 😵‍💫Why? Because our brains get confused (duh)

But when we learn random, unrelated words, we tend to remember way more. So next time you’re making a vocab list, maybe mix it up a little instead of sticking to categories

P/s: no beta we die like dean winchester