#Can’t believe this was nearly 10 years ago!

[avida-heidia-5]

I’d like to take a moment to remind everyone that this clip exists:

The origins of the “We didn’t expect sex in Monaco” comment!

Mark Webber talks about his new book ‘Aussie Grit’ and about Sebastian Vettel on The Clare Balding Show (28th December 2015)

[rafesangelita]

♡ when farmer’s!daughter!reader’s father goes out of town to visit some family, her and cowboy!rafe can’t keep their hands to themselves any longer.

warnings: reader is a little bit on the shy side, flirty banter, use of petnames, implied age gap (rafe is 7-10 years older), hint of jealous!rafe, reader refers to her father as ‘daddy’, mentions of sneaking around, slowburn (kinda?), lotsss of sexual tension, fluff, mutual pining, oral (f. receiving), fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, cream pie, squirting, multiple orgasms

a/n: based loosely off of the moodboard + headcanons i wrote here <3 saddle up because this is a long one lol

wc: 4.8k

“you gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna help me out here?” rafe grunted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watched you blink away from his form. you looked up from his shirtless figure, his skin glistening with sweat as butterflies fluttered in your chest. “what do you need?” you chirped, blinking rapidly as if to shake away the thoughts of pressing wet kisses to his waistline. “a cold glass of water sounds good right now.” you obliged, rafe watching as you went up the porch stairs in your cute little boots, his eyes falling down to your backside. “fuck.” he muttered to himself.

if he knew he’d have to fight the urge to touch his boss’s pretty daughter, he would’ve hesitated in taking the job. eight months had felt like an eternity when you pranced around the farm in the prettiest dresses and shortest daisy duke shorts he’s ever seen. you came back with a glass of water, taking a sip before handing it to him. expecting rafe to turn the glass around to take a drink from the other side of the rim, your cheeks heated when he placed his mouth on the same spot your lips were on just moments ago. “thanks, sweetheart.” rafe shot you a wink, his charm making you look away shyly.

you plopped down on a nearby tree stump, a pout taking over your features as you looked at the empty driveway. your father had only been gone for a few hours, not nearly making a dent in the five days he’ll be away. “you don’t have to worry about him, y’know? he’s a strong man.” rafe decided he needed a break from being hunched over under the hood of his truck, his chest rising and falling as he took a seat on the bed of fluffy grass next to you. “i know..” you muttered, “it’s just— he’s so much older now, i worry about him.” you looked down at rafe, his eyes already trained on you.

rafe nodded. “that man can survive anything. wasn’t he in his truck when a tornado came and swept him off the ground?” you gasped, a laugh escaping your lips. “he told you that story?!” you squealed excitedly, your reaction making rafe melt into a puddle of nothing. you were too cute. “did he also tell you the part where that didn’t really happen? him and his buddy just got real close to it.” rafe’s face morphed into one of pure shock. “he lied?!” you threw your head back in laughter, a snort following shortly after. it was rafe’s turn to laugh, the sound unfamiliar to his ears.

“oh my god, excuse me. i can’t believe i just did that!” you clasped a hand over your mouth, embarrassment creeping up onto your face. the man next to you waved you off. “why would he lie about that?” rafe leaned back on his hands, giving you a full view of his chiseled abs. sighing dreamily, you shrugged. “he’s a drama queen sometimes, he likes the theatrics.” realizing that you just swooned over his muscles, rafe cleared his throat before getting back to work. he respected your father too much to give in to his filthy desires, or so he hoped.

swallowing the lump of rejection in your throat, you made your way inside where you decided to watch him from your bedroom window instead. your infatuation with this man only grew by the day, and it was becoming really hard to hide your adoration for him. all the times he slipped you a little wink when your father wasn’t looking, the playing of footsies under the table while your father ranted about the economy, the lingering stares and touches.. you weren’t crazy, you had every right to believe this man was interested in you in some way, shape, or form.

apart of you wanted to believe that rafe was trying to maintain in being a gentleman towards you, but there’s nothing you wanted more than for him to hold off all kind of honor and respect for you while he takes you however he wants. you daydreamed about being fucked in a headlock by him, along with being put into twenty other positions. letting out a sigh, you fell back on your bed, fiddling with the ribbon that was tied to the belt loop of your shorts. how on earth were you going to go about these next few days all alone with him?

night time rolled around, and rafe had just come inside for a shower. “are you hungry?” you watched as he rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck to release some pressure of today’s labor. “yeah, but i’ll help myself. don’t worry about it, ‘sugar.” he groaned before shutting the bathroom door behind him. you knew he wouldn’t, days like this always ended in rafe knocking out as soon as he hit his bed, empty stomach or not. the only thing rafe could think about as the hot water pattered against his back, was how you were in the same house as him in nothing but a night dress.

he wondered if you’d let him hike it up your thighs.. if you’d allow him to slip his fingers underneath the soft material. so badly, he wanted to see your face twist in pleasure underneath him, he ached to see that day. rafe let out a shuddering breath, swallowing thickly as lewd images of you ran through his head. he imagined your hands trailing down his torso, those cherry red painted fingers of yours wrapped tightly around his cock. you had this man questioning everything he ever knew about being a gentlman. rafe rubbed the sides of his face, his eyes screwing shut as he attempted to get all inappropriate thoughts about you out of his head.

he remembered seeing you for the first time all those months ago. you were wearing a red gingham dress, your hair styled so pretty and neat. he knew immediately that he was in trouble when you flashed him that million dollar smile when your father introduced you two. it wasn’t long before both of you started flirting with each other, even going as far as touching each other when you didn’t have to. rafe would ‘help’ you up on your horse, his hands planted on the globes of your ass as he hoisted you onto the saddle. he swore he died and came back to life whenever you’d place a hand on him every time he made you laugh.

slowly but surely, you two were getting more bolder with your moves. while rafe was ogling your goodies more often than not, you started leaving your curtains open whenever you’d change, knowing he could see you from the view of his window. pinching the bridge of his nose, rafe quickly hurried up in the shower, feeling the need to relieve himself in his own space where he knew you’d be far away from. after washing away all the dirt and grime, he felt clean as he dried himself off, only for his peace to come crashing down when he realized he didn’t bring an extra change of clothes with him.

with no other choice but to walk out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he tried to sneak pass you in the kitchen and out the back door, but of course he wasn’t so lucky. “i know you said you would make yourself something, but—” you turned around with a loaded dinner plate in your hand, the dish nearly slipping out of your grip when you saw the tall cowboy standing awkwardly with his hands on his hips.

your eyes trailed down his stomach, the sight of his happy trail making you swallow thickly. rafe took note of this, his heart beating in his chest as you averted your gaze elsewhere. “uhm, well i made you this.. i know it’s one of your favorites..” you placed the plate of steak and mashed potatoes on the table, turning around as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. this was absolute torture. “it looks amazing, i’ll just get some clothes on and be right back.” he held onto the towel, jogging to his place where he slipped on a pair of pajama pants and a dingy white t-shirt.

“you didn’t have to do this,” rafe took a seat at the table, his jaw ticking when you bent over the counter to grab a couple of drinking glasses, “thank you.” at this point he didn’t know if he was thanking you for the food, or the perfect view of your ass. “water?” you looked at him from over your shoulder, your cheeks heating when you saw his eyes shoot away from your backside. “a beer please.” you smiled at his answer. you should’ve known he’d pick that out after a full day of work. grabbing a bottle from the fridge, you handed it to him, his fingers brushing yours as you took a seat across from him.

“my dad makes it a lot better than i do, so—” rafe was quick to cut you off, a moan leaving his lips as he chewed. “this is.. damn!” you giggled, shaking your head. “it’s great, darlin’. truly.” he nodded approvingly, flashing you a thumbs up. you smiled that smile of yours before tasting it yourself. despite all the tension between you two, you could always count on each other to talk the other’s ear off. “wait. so you’re telling me that you’re actually from an island? why on earth would you live out in the middle of nowhere when you had the beach in your backyard?” you asked incredulously.

rafe took a swig from his beer, a bittersweet laugh leaving his lips. “i got into a ‘lotta bad shit over there. i was on some bad shit,” he sighed, “being out here brings me peace.. even if i’m breaking my back everyday.” you listened closely, giving him your full attention as he told you more about the place he was from. you learned that he used to be a filthy rich boy with a house bigger than you could ever imagine. rafe smiled softly, a solemn expression taking over his features. “it’s very nice. but i wouldn’t go back.” he leaned back in his chair.

you tilted your head at him, both of your plates empty. “no? how come?” you leaned forward, your cleavage peeking out of your neckline. eyes flickering down to your chest, rafe seemed to get flustered when he felt your foot trail up his leg. “well,” he zeroed in on your lips, “i see myself settling down out here, ‘havin some little ones.” your breath hitched, a smidge of jealousy now residing in your gut. as if he could read your mind, he caught your foot under the table, his thumb stroking your ankle. “old habits seem to die hard, huh?” rafe laughed.

pushing away the jealousy, you nodded, feeling a new profound sense of confidence with the way he was looking at you right now. “yeah, i guess i forgot we’re here all by ourselves.. ‘don’t really have to hide from anyone..” you yawned, your head falling back on your chair as your night gown rode up your thighs. just a few inches higher, and rafe would finally see what he’s been fantasizing about all this time. “yeah..” he crossed his arms, his biceps looking especially good right now. you two stayed quiet, just looking at each other as if everything was threatening to rise to the surface.

do something! you thought to yourself, hoping rafe could magically hear you and grab you from across the table. instead, he looked away, letting go of your foot before scooting out from the table. “dinner was really good, but i better head off to bed, now.” he didn’t let you say anything before he left in a haste. what. the. fuck. you got up, watching him curse to himself from the kitchen window. you couldn’t help but feel defeated. rafe was always the one pulling away from you, no matter how close you two got, he always left you high and dry.

once you cleaned everything up, and you were left lying by yourself in your bed, you decided everything would change. if he pulled away from you, surely you should do the same.

you woke up the next morning to the sound of rafe’s truck engine roaring to life. rubbing your eyes, you shielded your face from the morning sun, deciding to get your day started as soon as possible. within an hour, you were stepping outside, walking over to where rafe was smiling brightly behind the steering wheel. “i got it working, sweetheart! should we go for a ride?” damn him, he knew how much you loved to be passenger princess in his two seater-beater. you cleared your throat, already hating yourself as you said no. “i don’t think so.. i got a lot of stuff to do today.”

rafe watched you go back in the house, his jaw ticking in response. the only thing you had to do today was sit and look pretty. not to mention, for as long as rafe has been here, you never, ever, rejected going on a little drive with him. that’s how he immediately knew something wasn’t right, and he’d bet all of his money that it had something to do with last night. taking the keys out of the ignition, rafe decided that if you weren’t going to go for a ride with him, then he wasn’t going either. considering he did everything he needed to do yesterday, rafe settled for going inside to tidy up his place.

you walked around the house aimlessly, a book in your hand as you kept glancing outside to see if you could spot rafe anywhere. you didn’t. letting out a groan, you looked at the clock on the wall. it was already half past noon. you debated on whether or not you should take him some lunch, your leg bouncing as you tried to weigh out your options here. on one hand, you could bring rafe lunch, try to talk some stuff out, and on the other hand, you could just leave things be like you promised yourself you would. you knew rafe wasn’t stupid, surely he’d catch on to you soon.

just as you decided against bothering him, there was a knock at the front door. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you opened the door to see your childhood best friend, wyatt. “wyatt!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him as he pulled you close to him by your waist. “oh my, lord! when did you come back from the city?!” you welcomed him in, motioning for him to come inside. “i just finished my second semester, so i’ll be in town for a while. i drove out here just last night, ‘decided to surprise my folks.” he smiled, his expression softening once you urged him to take a seat at the kitchen table.

“i didn’t see your old man’s truck out front..” he sat down, taking his hat off and placing it on the table. “oh, yeah.. he’s out of town visiting my aunt.” you leaned back on the counter, your eyes flickering at his hair. he looked so much different now. “wow, you’re uh— you look really good.” you complimented. “yeah, i’m not lanky anymore,” wyatt laughed, “you look gorgeous as always, though.” his gaze ran down your dress, the sight of your bare thighs making him clear his throat. “well, i didn’t just want to come by and say hi, i actually wanted to ask you something—”

rafe barged in before wyatt could finish his sentence.

“who’s this?” he stared between you two, the jealousy in his blue eyes very, very evident. you smiled innocently as wyatt got up, extending a hand for rafe to shake. “hello, sir. i’m an old friend of y/n’s here, ‘was just coming to visit her.” rafe looked down at wyatt’s palm, keeping both of his hands tucked in his pockets. “well, you two might wanna hurry this up, y/n’s father doesn’t know about any visitors coming to his home.” rafe walked around him, opening the fridge for a beer. “daddy isn’t home though, isn’t he?” you spoke up, in which rafe turned around. “what was that?” he asked.

you two were glaring at each other now. “my dad isn’t here,” you repeated, “and besides, he knows wyatt. ‘thinks of him as a son, right?” rafe’s grip on his beer bottle tightened, a smile playing on his lips when he glanced over at your friend. “yeah.” wyatt nodded. rafe was seeing red, he couldn’t stand to look at you and wyatt standing so close to each other any longer. turning around, rafe listened in as wyatt asked to take you out to dinner. “aw, i would love to! what time should i be ready?”rafe shut his eyes momentarily. you said yes to wyatt too fast for his liking. “how does eight o’clock sound?”

you hummed, nodding excitedly as wyatt made his way to the front door. “alright, it’s a date then. see ‘ya!” you waved at him until his truck disappeared down the dirt road. walking back into the kitchen, rafe was staring you down as you acted like you didn’t just agree to go on a date in front of him. “what do you think you’re playing at?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “if you’re acting out because of last night—” you cut him off. “don’t talk about me ‘acting out’ when you’re the one who decided to run back to your little shed when i was giving you an open opportunity.” you cut in.

“an open opportunity to do what?” rafe’s voice was firm as he stepped closer to you, his beer long forgotten on the counter as he gripped your arm. you failed miserably at trying not to look down at his lips. “it doesn’t even matter now. you obviously don’t want it,” you softened, “don’t want me..” rafe couldn’t believe his ears. you were all that this man thought about. he woke up thinking of what pretty outfit you would wear for the day, and went to sleep wishing you were by his side. “don’t want you?” he repeated, loosening his grip on your skin. “you just have no fucking clue.” rafe stepped back.

“you’re the only thing that i want.” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he made his way outside to the back house. you stared at him in shock. all this time you wondered if something was wrong with you because he never made a real move to pursue you, but now all of a sudden after you agree to go on a date he wants to express how he feels? and has the nerve to walk off right after? fuck that. you pushed the back door open, the old wood slamming back against the house as rafe spun around on his heels. “so why do you walk away from me?!” you shouted, both of your chests rising and falling.

“what are you talking about?” you stepped down the stairs, shoving rafe in the chest. “why do you leave every time things start to go somewhere?” his eyes bore into yours, “i’m sick of this game of cat and mouse. have you ever thought that maybe i want you too?” those were the words rafe needed to hear before he cupped your face and dragged you off your feet. his lips were soft against your own, his calloused hands pulling you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. he groaned at the taste of you, his tongue slipping in your mouth before you could process what was happening.

rafe kissed you hard and slow, as if to savor you before he led you two to his place, the door barely shutting before he had you pinned to his neatly made bed. “i’ve wanted you the moment your father introduced us, that’s the truth.” he slotted himself between your thighs, cupping your tits through your dress. you moaned, his hips grinding against your clothed cunt. “why would you wait all this time then?” you whimpered when he started pressing kisses to the curve of your neck, his calloused hands feeling you up as they roamed your soft flesh. “well for starters, i have a lot of respect for your pops..”

you sighed, completely forgetting about the old man. “and?” rafe pulled the straps of your dress down until the material pooled at your waist. leaning back on his heels, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest, your tits looking more perfect than he imagined. “..and right now, all the respect i have is going out the door.” you cried out when he leaned down, his lips wrapping around a sensitive bud while he used his other hand to snake beneath the waistband of your panties. you blinked up at the ceiling, your hips bucking when you felt his rough fingers stroke your clit.

“that feels so good, ray.” you keened, the weight of his body providing you a sense of safety and comfort. rafe felt like he was under a spell. with your sweet voice in his ear, and his fingers working to get you soaked and ready for him, he couldn’t wait to taste you any longer. pulling away from you, rafe slid your dress and underwears off in one swift motion, a shiver running down your spine when he slowly spread your thighs apart. “you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” he licked his lips, glancing up at your heated face. your heart bloomed in your chest, your hand finding his cheek.

“please. i’ve wanted this for eight months.” you confessed, your words sending rafe into overdrive. without another thought, rafe took your thighs and placed them on his shoulders, delving into your wetness with a groan. instinctively, your back arched up from his bed, your hands flying to rest on top of his own. you squeezed his fingers, a string of babbles falling from your lips as rafe’s tongue flicked against your sensitive bundle of nerves. rafe watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyebrows knitting together as pure bliss etched itself onto your face.

“you okay?” rafe pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, wanting to make sure it wasn’t too much for you before continuing. “mhmm, yes!” you looked down, the image of rafe’s chin, lips, and even the tip of his nose glistening with your slick was now forever ingrained in your brain. smiling to himself, rafe got back to work, but this time with his fingers prodding at your entrance. “might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but i promise it’ll feel so good, baby.” you nodded, putting all your trust in him before you felt the delicious stretch of his digits inside your cunt.

“fuck!” you squealed, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his head. rafe curled his digits, your eyes screwing shut as he continuously pressed that soft spot inside of you. rafe didn’t stop his skillful movements on your clit, an unfamiliar feeling starting to swirl in your core. rafe cursed at the wet sounds emitting from your pussy, his cock hard and aching to get inside of you already. you gasped when he kept suckling on your sensitive bud, your stomach caving in when he pressed a hand to your tummy. before you could think, white hot pleasure blinded your vision, your entire body jolting as the first wave of your orgasm washed over you.

rafe felt the way you pulsed around his digits, wishing so badly that it was his cock instead. eyes flickering up to your face, he groaned when he saw the way your face twisted in pure bliss, your legs shaking as you felt the sudden urge to pull away from him. “rafe, wait!” you cried out, a sob ripping itself from your throat when a stream of wetness suddenly soaked rafe’s chin, your decadence streaming down his neck as he moaned against your cunt. you stared down at him with wide eyes, your mouth parting in suprise when he slipped his digits in his mouth.

“i- i don’t know what that was!” you gasped, cheeks heating in embarrassment. licking a final stripe up your folds, rafe smiled as he shook his head. “you just squirted, baby, get used to it.” his length rested on top of your tummy, hot and heavy, as he threaded his fingers with yours. “gonna fuck you until you’re carrying my baby..” your heart swelled, recalling his words from last night. “were you talking about me? when you said you wanted little ones..” rafe looked into your eyes, the sincerity in his gaze making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “you’re the only woman i envision. future and present.”

cupping his face softly, you brought his lips down to meet your own, the head of his cock slipping into your entrance. you let out a shuddering breath, nodding slowly as he pushed the rest of his length inside your greedy walls. you swore you died and went to heaven when he starting rocking into you, both of you moaning in unison. “rafe?” you whimpered, gazing up at him with teary eyes, “shit— yeah, sweetheart?” the man on top of you thumbed your chin, a concerned expression taking over his features. you could tell rafe was holding back with the way he was hesitating with every thrust.

“harder, please.” you asked sweetly, rafe obliging without another thought. soon, you were a crying mess, your eyes barely staying open as rafe put you in a mating press. he was already reaching new depths in regular missionary, so when he placed your legs over his shoulders and caged you between his arms, you were hysterical as his tip kissed your cervix. “oh, god!” you screamed, your nails digging into rafe’s skin as he fucked you stupid. “can’t..” you shook your head, the feeling of his cock filling you to the hilt was increasingly becoming too much to handle.

"yes you can, sugar. look how good you're taking it all.." rafe cradled your head, making you look down at where you two were connected. you moaned at the sight, his cock shining with your slick. rafe kept his hands beneath your head, kissing you softly as his pubic bone began hitting your clit. “m’gonna make you the prettiest mommy this town has ever seen, just watch.” he chuckled, his forehead falling in the curve of your neck. you ran your fingers across his buzzed scalp, the word ‘promise?’ lingering on your tongue. “is that what you want? ‘want me to breed you until you’re all pretty and round?”

you cried out, rafe’s hips stuttering as he felt his climax creeping up on him. “yes, yes, yes—” you repeated yourself like a broken record, rafe’s name falling from your lips like a mantra. “oh, fuck!” he cursed, teeth grazing your flesh as he spilled into you, your second orgasm making you squeeze around him like a vice. rafe stilled, making sure to keep stroking your clit so he could draw out your high for as long as possible. slipping his thumb in your mouth, you shamelessly sucked on the digit as you trembled beneath him, his hot load filling you up.

you two stayed panting against each other’s mouths until your highs subsided, a light sheen of sweat coating both of your skin’s. pulling out with a grunt, rafe rolled over, pulling you with him so he could spoon you. letting out a sigh, you reveled in the warm sun streaming through his window, the light casting off of your face and illuminating the walls. “that was worth the wait, don’t you think?” if it wasn’t for the feeling of your limbs being jelly, you would’ve turned around and landed a playful smack to his chest. instead, you hummed, your eyes heavy with sleep. “we’re not keeping this from my father, rafe.”

your voice was hoarse as you spoke. “no. no, we’re not.” he kissed your shoulder. “you should probably give that guy wayne a call, ‘tell him you’re not going on that date after all.” you giggled, a shiver going down your spine as his large palm rubbed circles into your back. “wyatt, rafe. his name is wyatt. i only told him yes to rile you up.” you teased. rafe knew that, but it still pissed him off nonetheless. “i’ll cancel in a minute, ‘sir.” you used wyatt’s formalities towards rafe earlier against him, earning you a light pinch to your side. “that asshole. ‘really called me sir as if i’m that old.” he shook his head, waiting for you to disagree.

“well..” you trailed off, bursting into laughter when he attacked you with sloppy kisses.

[reasonsforhope]

I’m sorry to come to you like this since you probably wanted someone to come in for a reason for hope but I’m freaking out and have no one to talk to about this rn. A music artist I follow put this stuff in their story on instagram..how are things getting better??? I’m so confused and scared. I’m terrified to be alive. I should’ve died in election night. Idk if I can do this anymore. I don’t want the world to end nor live in an apocalypse/dystopia. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I’m going to die before I even reach the age of 25 or 30 instead of dying of old age😥😥😥😥😥

First, breathe.

Second:

Go read these links. Keep going down the list until you feel better:

Read:

this article* on why the doomers are wrong

everything in Fix the News's awesome year-end roundup* of good news

everything in my masterpost on why we're going to beat climate change

everything from my masterpost on net negative carbon emissions

everything in Fix the News's archives, until you feel better

*it's a fantastic article in many ways but warning for (brief but serious) fatphobia and some annoying Western-centrism. Warning for fatphobia also applies to (one point on the) Fix the News roundup.

You should not have died on election night. Absolutely not. Yes, there are great injustices in the world. But this too shall pass. Literally everything does.

Some notes:

This isn't the end of the world. It's not about to be an apocalypse. And, if the world wasn't a dystopia when half of all people died before the age of 15 (aka all of history until the past 250 years), it's definitely not a dystopia now, imho. (x, x)

Literally every single week on Fix the News, I see the news that some country has ended some disease! Usually I see multiple stories about that each week! We're making real progress that has saved billions of lives!

In 1900, 120 years ago, there were 5 full liberal democracies in the entire world. Now, about 97 countries (out of approximately 195, depending on how you count) are democracies. That's almost half the countries in the world! This is actually, writ large, a time of massive expansion of human rights, hard as it is to believe from looking at the news. (x, x)

Also Imho the most likely explanation to the Fermi Paradox is that we're only 0.13% of the way through expected lifespan of the universe (x, x). Very little time for life to evolve, comparatively.

Finally:

Unfollow this person. Unfollow everyone who posts something that makes you feel suicidal - literally and ongoingly, every time you see a post that makes you spiral, immediately unfollow that person.

It's not about sticking your head in the sand. If you want, you can calendar time to check ACTUAL news sources (NOT social media) a couple times a week to make sure you're staying up on things.

But you know what? The number one priority is keeping yourself alive.

How are things actually getting better? To quote the first article I linked:

"I could tell you that a little more than 200 years ago, nearly half of all children born died before they reached their 15th birthday, and that today it’s less than 5 percent globally. I could tell you that in pre-industrial times, starvation was a constant specter and life expectancy was in the 30s at best. I could tell you that at the dawn of the 19th century, barely more than one person in 10 was literate, while today that ratio has been nearly reversed. I could tell you that today is, on average, the best time to be alive in human history."

Stay alive. And do what you need to do to keep yourself that way.

[steddieas-shegoes]

a stranger's advice

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event 'Good Fortune'

using prompt 7: a single kind word can keep one warm for years + mouth + 48, 13, 46, 27, 31, 18

rated m | 1408 words | cw: implied sexual content kinda | tags: modern au, different first meeting, flirting, eventual famous corroded coffin, eventual rock star eddie munson, sound mixer steve harrington, strangers to lovers

🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️

Eddie’s giving up.

They’ve done all they can do.

Jeff’s dad is threatening to cut him off entirely if he doesn’t go to college and Gareth’s mom calls him crying twice a week, worried he’s gonna end up homeless or in rehab. Gareth’s never touched a drug or more than a single beer in his life and works harder than any of them, but he’s tired of telling her that. Frankie doesn’t have the same passion they have; He’s just there as the guy who answered an ad for a bassist.

No record label wants them, most larger venues don’t want to pay what it would cost for them to get there, and the smaller venues are getting less crowded as more people flock to arenas and stadiums to see big name bands. They aren’t as good as they thought they were and Eddie has to accept that.

He’s feeling sorry for himself in the hallway of this record company first, though.

The other guys already shook hands with everyone, patted Eddie on the shoulder, and left. He’s alone now, and he’ll be alone for the rest of his life.

“Waiting for a ride?” A man asks from in front of him.

Eddie looks up and sees someone he vaguely recognizes as the assistant who sat in on their unsuccessful meeting 18 whole minutes ago. He’s stunning in the way that someone way outside of Eddie’s league usually is, but damn if he doesn’t get stuck looking anyways.

The man raises a brow and crosses his arms.

“Uh, no. Sorry. I have one. Just needed a minute.”

The man nods and then uncrosses his arms, sighing.

“You want some advice?”

“Not sure if it’ll do me any good. My band’s done. I’m nothing without them,” Eddie lets himself sound as pitiful as he feels.

“A 13 track demo is too much. Most places aren’t listening to more than five songs at all, and that’s only if they’re impressed by the first two. You guys sound great, and clearly have passion, but it’s not heard by the people who need to hear it,” the man says despite Eddie’s warning.

Eddie is a bit distracted by the way his mouth forms words, like he’s trying to hide an accent. This is LA. A lot of transplants from the south and Midwest don’t like people to know.

“And you know this as the assistant?” Eddie asks and wishes he didn’t.

“I’m the sound mixer. The assistant is out and they asked me to fill in. But I’ve seen how this goes enough to see that you guys have everything right except the part you need,” he gives a small smile. “Cut down the tracks and you’ll be set. You’ve got an amazing voice. Don’t give up yet.”

The man walks away before Eddie can say thank you or ask any follow up questions like ‘do you want to come home with me?’ or ‘does your hair naturally swoop like that or is there product doing the job?’

Eddie decides to head out, waits nearly 31 minutes for an Uber, which is ridiculous when he’s staying in a hotel less than 10 minutes from the building. The guys are at the hotel bar when he arrives, sipping on sodas instead of mixed drinks like they deserve.

“Give me one more shot,” he begs.

They look at each other. They look back at him.

“One more,” Jeff agrees as they all nod.

~~~~~

“Can’t believe there’s 46,000 people here!” Eddie yells as he’s running off the stage.

There aren’t exactly 46,000 people watching them; That number is closer to 27,000. But there are 46,000 tickets sold for this particular event, which means that 46,000 people have seen Corroded Coffin’s name on a ticket stub or event guide. It’s more than he ever expected to know about them.

He’s so excited about the set they just played, he nearly runs right into a guy in nice jeans and a sweater. It’s too fucking hot for a sweater.

The guy grabs Eddie’s arms to steady both of them and Eddie looks up and his jaw drops.

“Holy shit, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” the man replies, smirking at Eddie’s surprise. “Had to see what our label missed out on in person.”

The other guys are rushing past him, probably to get to the green room for drinks and snacks. They never eat before a show, and when they’re done, they’re ravenous.

The man hasn’t let him go yet. He could. Eddie’s balance is fine, his initial adrenaline is crawling to a normal level, and he isn’t gonna suddenly run into anyone else.

“Your advice worked,” Eddie says.

The man nods, knowing smile on his face. “I’m glad you listened to me.”

“It wasn’t just your advice though,” Eddie admits. “I mean, it definitely helped! But you actually saw talent. We were feeling kinda down about how good we were and you made me realize that it’s probably not our talent that’s the problem. We’re good. We’ve been good. We just didn’t know how to show that to the right people.”

“There’s 48 bands here this weekend, you know?” The man asks, as if that’s a normal response to anything Eddie just said.

“Um, yeah. I know.”

“We represent 47 of them.”

Eddie’s brows practically leave his forehead. “But…”

“I insisted they get you guys on the lineup when I saw the options available. And I couldn’t pass up another opportunity to talk to you.”

Eddie feels like he might pass out, which could definitely be from dehydration or overheating, but could also be the very hot man in front of him kind of flirting with him?

“Sorry, I think I’m having a stroke. I don’t even remember your name. You’ve just been Hot Man in my head for four years,” Eddie manages to get out, feeling his cheeks heat up at the embarrassment of his outburst.

Hot Man laughs, throws his head back and everything, like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Steve. I’m Steve,” he says when he’s calmed down.

“Steve.” Eddie likes the way his name sounds coming from his own lips. “I’m Eddie.”

“I know,” he laughs again, quieter, more fondness sneaking in.

“Well, Steve, would you like to join me for a drink in the green room? I hear the lead singer of Corroded Coffin requested only the finest PBR,” Eddie gestures towards the steps leading off the stage. “Or perhaps you’d enjoy a vodka soda.”

“I’d love to,” Steve giggles. Eddie feels like he’s won something. “But I am technically working for a few more hours.”

“Oh,” Eddie swallows around the disappointment. “Right. Okay.”

“But I’m staying at the Marriott down the road. If you wanted to meet for dinner later?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Definitely. For sure.” Eddie groans at his awkward excitement, but Steve is giggling again. Hearing a hot man giggle like this just does something to his brain.

“Great. Here’s my number. Text me so I have yours,” Steve hands over a business card and Eddie ignores his dick twitching in his too-tight pants. “See you tonight.”

Eddie’s mouth feels dry as he nods.

Steve is already gone when he finally thinks of something to say, so he groans and makes his way to the green room, where the guys are all spread out across the couches placed haphazardly around.

“Where’d you go?” Gareth asks him before he takes a sip of his water. He’s still a one and done drinker and Eddie loves him for it.

“Got a date,” Eddie shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“A date?!” Frankie asks, nearly spilling his beer.

“Don’t act so surprised, man. I date!”

“You haven’t ‘dated’ anyone since high school.”

“Haven’t felt like I needed to. I was busy getting us famous,” Eddie smirks, finds a beer in the fridge, and settles on a chair. “It might just be one date anyway. He’s probably a busy guy and I’m not sure I’m really his type.”

“Yeah, right. If he’s here, you’re his type,” Jeff laughs.

Everyone moves on quickly, which is a blessing for Eddie because he gets lost in thoughts about Steve pretty much immediately.

In the years they spent trying to make it, only one person ever gave him helpful advice. Only one person spoke of his talent and made him feel like they could still make it.

And now he had a date with him.

[megalomaniacz]

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚ bbf dealer!ellie

a/n: there’s three different versions of this and i fought with myself about posting one so here you go! credit to @seattlesellie who i believe brought bbf!ellie to tumblr!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑

‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑ Vacationing before the stress of your college classes fully consumed you sounded good at first. Then your older brother decided he wanted to come, and bring his best friend. Ellie Williams, who according to you, is the most annoying person on Earth. She never failed to eat up all your snacks, purposely hide around the house with your brother to jumpscare you, and steal your things to make you chase her around the house to get them back.

This has gone on for what feels like forever. Since the very day they’d met 10 years ago, and they’ve been a menacing duo ever since. And to top it off, she was his supplier. That meant she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. That also meant that while you were enjoying the shade and splayed out on the chaise, she was purposely canon balling in order to splash you. You pull your sunglasses off to shoot her a glare. “Ellie, don’t make me drown you.”

“Threats like that’ll get the cops called on you.” She retorts, arms crossed on the edge of the pool. Her swim trunks puffed in the water as her eyes gleam in the sun. The water was dripping down her freckled face and you’d never admit it but she looked so fucking pretty.

“Where’s my brother?” You change the subject, eyes wandering around the pool. It seemed to just be you and an elderly couple. One playing sudoku while the other flips through a newspaper. Ellie pushes herself up out of the pool, bikini top displaying a playful array of space themed patterns. Something she’d paired with plain black swim trunks. She sits on the chaise next to you, arms on her knees. “He went to go smoke.”

“Are you guys going to be high the entire week?” You ask. “You both ate all of my snacks yesterday when you got the munchies.” Ellie is rarely ever sweet to you, especially not when your brother around, so this is the rare occasion she says something that doesn’t make you want to roll your eyes to the far side of your head.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We’ll buy you some more…” You look at her, raising an eyebrow, and she rolls her eyes. “What? I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just that you rarely ever choose to be. Not to me atleast.” You turn your head when you hear your phone chime with a notification and don’t notice her face fall.

It’s your brother informing you, and telling you to inform Ellie, that he will not be returning because he’d met up with some friends he hadn’t seen in a while. You shoot Ellie an apologetic look, but she reassures you that she’s his best friend and none of the people he’s met up with can compare. It makes you laugh as you begin packing up your things and walking back to the vacation house.

You’d thought that Ellie would stay but she goes with you. The short walk is silent. You pretend not to see her eyes wander, and she pretends not to see yours do the same. Your hands brushing up against each other but never intertwining.

You both can’t contain it anymore when you reach the house. She nearly pushes you down trying to get you inside, before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. You grab at her hips wanting her closer, and it causes her to moan into your mouth. Her knee pushing between your legs and brushing up against your cunt.

“We’re gonna have to tell him eventually.” You breathe after breaking away from the kiss. She looks at you, soft green eyes piercing into yours. Triangling your face in a dazed and hungry stare. “I know. Fuck—” You cut her off with another kiss and almost go weak with the way her hands trail down your body. Fingers pulling at the fabric of your swimsuit. They rub at your clothed cunt while her mouth finds it way to your neck, trailing kisses and leaving rough hickies. She felt depraved, but she’d grown to need you. To need to hear you cry out her name.

The moment is sweet. Your heavy breathing and her soft whispers of “You like that?” and “Want me to touch you here? Use your words baby.” You can feel yourself growing close, legs barely keeping you upright when the sound of a key in the door stops you both in your tracks. It’s too late to run and hide, you hear a murmur of voices as it pushes you both. One of them distinctly being your brother’s.

[in1-nutshell]

Being Noah's twin and knowing the Autobot's before him

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human reader

ROTB

Buddy is Noah’s younger twin.

It all happened a couple years ago while Buddy was still in high school.

Noah had been going on and on about the army engineering program and the places he would go.

Buddy was close to shoving their hot dog in his mouth.

They knew with him leaving, things at home weren’t going to be the same and with no Noah at home…

It didn’t seem right at all.

They don’t know why they did it, but that night they snuck out of the small apartment and walked out.

Maybe they needed to get their head straight and accept that Noah was leaving.

Buddy didn’t know how long they were walking for, but soon enough they reached the docks.

It wasn’t too far from home, but far enough to warrant them to turn back and go home.

That was until they heard a whirling sound that sounded suspiciously like whining.

They tried to go back but the whirling sound grew a bit louder and more pitiful.

Despite their better judgement, they went to the noise.

Buddy couldn’t believe their eyes…

Maybe they finally snapped from the stress of finals.

A yellow robot clutching his ‘knee’ was making the whirling sound while two other robots were around him.

They looked concerned and tried to help Yellow.

Buddy took a step backwards and stepped on some loud bubble wrap.

Pink and Blue take out their weapons and point in the direction of the sound,

“Show yourself!”--Blue

Buddy shakingly steps out of their hiding place with their hands raised above their head.

All four of them stared at each other.

“…Hi?...”--Buddy

Buddy internally screaming at that response.

“Great, a human. Prime’s not going to like this…”--Pink

“I heard someone in pain and came to see…”--Buddy

“Yeah we’re fine—”--Blue

Yellow whirls in pain as some sparks come out of his knee.

Buddy looks at Yellow sympathetically.

“I’ve got a tool kit with me. I can try and see what’s wrong with your friend. I promise I won’t do anything funny!”--Buddy

Pink looks like she wants to retaliate, but Blue puts a hand out to stop Pink.

“Maybe squishy over here can see something we can’t. It doesn’t hurt to try.”—Blue

Pink finally steps aside with Blue.

“…Fine.”—Pink

Buddy slowly walked over to the bot’s sparking knee and took out their mini tool kit.

They used a flashlight and began their look.

A long twig stuck between some of the joints, that must have been the problem.

With a swift yank Buddy got the twig out of the joint.

They nearly cracked their skull but pink and blue both break their fall.

Buddy held up the twig in victory as yellow moved its knee much easier and without sparks.

“Ha! Got it!”--Buddy

“You did?”--Pink

Yellow beeps happily and gently pat Buddy’s head.

“Thank you darling—the pain—hurting like a—”--Yellow

“Got it! You’re welcome… umm do you guys have names?”--Buddy

“My--name is—Bumblebee.”--Bumblebee

Buddy smiles at the yellow bot.

“The names Mirage squishy.”--Mirage

“I am Arcee.”--Arcee

Buddy smiles.

“I’m Buddy. If you don’t mind, but what are you guys?”--Buddy

“Umm… I think its better to take you to the boss bot for that.”--Mirage

“Boss?”--Buddy

“Don’t worry we ain’t gonna eat ya or anything. We’re kinda like E.T!”--Mirage

Buddy deadpans.

Bee transforms into his alt mode.

“… E.T. never did this…”--Buddy

Optimus was not exactly happy to have been discovered by humans… but this one did help Bumblebee…

He decided to give this one the benefit of the doubt.

Over the next couple of years Buddy would start sneaking out and showing the bots Earth and the city while they shared their mission and their ways as well.

Buddy and Arcee, after the brief tension, were often seen driving around the backways on her alt mode talking about the city and its history.

Buddy and Arcee driving by a section of the docks.

“What about this place?”--Arcee

“Don’t know too much about this part, except the time me and Kris found 10 bucks and a pizza rat.”--Buddy

“What’s a rat.”--Arcee

Buddy and Mirage enjoy the little speedy joyrides around the city and a good game of ‘which hologram is mirage’ in the more secluded hiding places.

Buddy looks at the four holograms of Mirage.

“Eenie meanie minie…gotcha!”--Buddy

Buddy tries to tackle ‘Mirages’ pede but passes through.

“Ha! Try again Buddy!”--Mirage

Mirage picks up Buddy from the back of their shirt and stands them up.

“Best out of 25?”—Mirage

Buddy smiles as they brush off some dust from their clothes.

“You’re on!”--Buddy

Buddy and Bumblebee like to go out to the drive-in movie theaters, joyrides and stories from their lives before they knew each other.

“So, you came to earth before everyone? Even Boss bot?”--Buddy

“Yes!”--Bumblebee

“And this Charlie girl? She’s your friend?”--Buddy

“She was—my first—friend.”--Bumblebee

“You gotta take me to this Charlie so I can thank her for taking care of you.”--Buddy

Bee whirls happily.

“Ooh! The movies about to start!”--Buddy

In starts the ‘Terminator’ movie.

Optimus reminded Buddy a lot of Noah.

Older brother’s trying to protect their families, while also being the most stubborn beings in existence.

That must have been a reason why Buddy understood how Prime worked and got along with him so well.

Priem isn’t attached to a human.

No, he is not…

So, what he drove a couple miles to pick them up from a party when their brother couldn’t.

So, what if they let him rant about the war and they would rant about school and their family.

He isn’t attached or anything…

Buddy hurriedly climbs into Prime cab sniffling.

“Buddy? Buddy what happened?”--Optimus

Buddy curls up in their seat making themselves as small as possible.

“…Buddy? Are you all right?”--Optimus

Buddy sniffs.

“Noah… Noah and I had a fight and—and—I just need a moment Optimus…”--Buddy

Optimus wraps the seatbelt around Buddy loosely, the best way he could give a hug them.

“Take your time Buddy, I’m here.”—Optimus

Optimus plays Buddy’s favorite radio station.

“I’m here…”--Optimus

The day that Noah comes in Buddy was with Optimus and nearly begged him to not transform as their secret would be let out.

It was let out regardless.

Noah is just stunned that Buddy knew about the aliens for years!?

He wants an explanation.

“HOW!?”--Noah

“Listen, I can explain!”--Buddy

“You better!”--Noah

“Calm down, Noah it’s all fine.”--Mirage

“You don’t get to talk, you kidnapped me!”--Noah

“And you were trying to steal me.”--Mirage

“I’m sorry you were trying to steal him?!”--Buddy

[edelfie]

#𝓣𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘! who’s that girl?

Y/N L/N is a nobody. well, maybe that’s a stretch, but it’s nothing compared to the other words the media uses to describe you. washed up, irrelevant, talentless—any cruel word or insult has or will be thrown your way. but 10 years in the game has forced you to grow thick skin, even if the supposed quality of your music doesn’t suit it. so why is it that today, of all the days, you awake to the worst news imaginable—worse than all the name-calling and jeers?

or, you open twitter. it doesn’t go well.

BLIND ITEMS! —

## this millionaire’s daughter influencer is known for buying many of her followers across all platforms. however, brands and colleagues ignore it because of the fat check lining her pockets.

## this one-of-a-duo A-list model is having business disputes with his other half and sibling. apparently, he wants more creative control over their projects despite having been in the industry for less time. it’s so serious that legal litigation is in the works. [revealed: lev haiba, alisa haiba]

## the not-so-indie band’s newest album is rumored to be about a controversial figure in the industry. this figure has already produced an album about the lead singer years ago, however it failed to garner any publicity.

## off-the-charts wannabe pop star is postponing her next album because her team knows her career is over if she doesn’t chart well. after nearly a decade in the industry and without a single long-lasting, cultural hit, she’s better off waiting tables than writing music. [revealed: Y/N L/N]

gracetheestallion. the haiba twins fighting ?? i can’t believe, like actually

colormeshocked. if y/n doesn’t clutch up rq then i’m gonna be so sad for her — underdawg. honestly, it’s just not fair how she’s treated by the industry — garagoesgaga. it’s “unfair”? she literally only makes trash songs and hooks up with men in relationships, girl bye — underdawg. your misogyny is showing, ugly <3 — garagoesgaga. wowwwww insults, so mature. average iq of a y/n fan

read more…

NOTES! —

Two posts in one day? It's more likely than you think! Anyways, today's fundraiser is for the family and sons of Reyna and Javier. Reyna and Javier lost their lives in a fatal crash, leaving their three sons without parents. Of their sons, one of them was dependent on their parents as he has been wheelchair bound all his life. In this brief period of time, he has lost both his parents and his primary caregivers. The entire family is feeling the financial strain of the sudden loss, so every help counts. Please consider donating here on GoFundMe or copy the link and share it online!

If you're new here, or even if you're not since I'm just starting to post again, I strive to bring attention to different fundraisers in all my posts. I primarily focus on sharing the stories of individuals in dire need, such as refugees in Gaza or those experiencing sudden homelessness, however there is no comparison between struggles, grief, and loss here! So I also take the time to share the stories of families such as Reyna and Javier's, and would deeply appreciate it if you could show them some much needed love as well.

I won't say too much, but as someone who has had the cards stacked against them (being a poc, nonbinary, queer, a religious minority, etc.) and has experienced my own share of loss, I can say that while the pain doesn't feel the same, the knife digs itself into you either way. My family was privileged enough to afford a funeral for my grandfather, who recently passed, but with many other family members getting older in age and being taken by the devil that is cancer, it does make me nervous as to how we will make it through. Regardless, I just hope that my plea and the stories I share will implore you to help others—not out of moral or societal obligation or to save face, but out of humanity and compassion <3

SEVEN EVIL EXES + MASTERLIST + NEXT

© all rights reserved—edelfie (2024) // do not plagiarize, modify, copy, use, translate, or repost my work on other sites without permission

[mysticheathenn]

What Would Make You Happy?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about what will make you happy in your life right now with your current energy.

Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

Ko-Fi Donations

Pile l:

What Would Make You Happy? Tarot: 6 of Wands (reversed), 10 of Swords, The Hanged Man, King of Wands, 8 of Wands, 7 of Cups (reversed)

Two words: Life Purpose & Rapid Movement. You want life to get to the good part pile l. Some of you could be struggling with your circumstances and feel that you don't have any other options in life because you either lack money, a support system, or you just can't see anything past your limiting belief system not knowing that the world is your oyster. You want life to literally stand at the side of the road like a cartoon character holding up signs of what path, direction, or what should happen next so you can help progress and bring in more of what you want in your life because you are tired of being in the same place. You are tired of feeling defeated like nothing you do is helping your situation. I Need a Hero (Shrek 2 Version) is playing in my head. Overall you just want to begin living your life in your purpose if not purpose you want to feel as if you are meant something on this earth like you aren't just here taking up space. You want to live a passionate and fulfilling life where you don't feel drained, anxious, unstable, or limited in the things you want to do, and even to some you want to be of service to those around you/community.

Extra Messages: Moonology Manifestation Oracle Deck Oracle: Step into Your Power & Work Through Your Feelings

"Achieving anything is nearly always part inspiration and part hard work. Believe that you can create whatever you want. Be You! Take action and be smart but also bold."

Some of you just need to ask for help. Your guides have been trying to communicate with you but you either are a) passing everything off as a coincidence or not believing that the path being shown to you is for you because you lack confidence or b) You need to be more grounded and meditate, do some yoga, journaling, whatever it is that you do to ask your guides, ancestors, the universe for help. That may even look like prayer for some of you.

Pile ll

What Would Make You Happy? Tarot: Queen of Wands (reversed), Ace of Cups (Upright), 7 of Cups / 4 of Swords / 5 of Wands (All reversed)

One Word: Fulfillment. You may have been drawn to pile l, pile ll. A Boondocks quote came to me "Huey: Grandad, what do you do when you can't do nothing and there's nothing you can do. Grandad: You do what you can. " Like pile l you are tired of life trying to knock you down every chance you get but for a lot of you, this is more of a mental thing than life doing anything. Most of you may feel that you aren't good enough, there is someone better than you, believing in imposter syndrome, or even anxiety. Not knowing that all you need is a change in your mental health. Stop believing in the voices in your head, the nay-sayers that told you once 10 years ago you would never amount to anything or even the results you see from lack of clients or progress. You are your own enemy, only you can put a stop to your madness and begin believing that you can achieve greatness and the fulfillment you want out of your life. Your thoughts reflect your reality. If you feel you aren't good enough...why should others believe you are too? If you believe your art, craft, or services are crap...life is going to prove to you with no sales, clients, etc because you believe it is true.

Extra Messages: Moonology Manifestation Oracle Deck Oracle: Open to Change, Take A Reality Check, Lighten Up

Be open to having a reality shift pile ll. What is the worst thing that could happen if you believe in yourself? Seriously what bad thing could happen if you decided to be your own cheerleader and believe you are worth more than what yourself and others have to say to you? Bet on it - High School Musical (Song link: http://tinyurl.com/262djrbw ) is playing in my head.

"I'm not gonna stop, that's who I am I'll give it all I got, that is my plan Will I find what I lost? You know you can Bet on it, bet on it, bet on it, bet on it (Bet on me) I wanna make it right, that is the way To turn my life around, today is the day Am I the type of guy who means what I say? Bet on it, bet on it, bet on it, bet on it

The answers are all inside of me All I gotta do is believe"

Pile lll:

What Would Make You Happy? Tarot: 9 of Swords (Upright), Knight of Swords, 7 of Cups/ 7 of Pentacles / 6 of Cups (All reversed)

One Word: Self Care. You have a lot of mental and emotional turmoil going on inside of you, pile lll. For most of you, this is limiting beliefs, anxiety, and depression. But overall I am sensing that you just want to feel not only appreciated but to not feel the burdens of everyday life on your shoulders. You may be the type who takes on way too much even the struggles and worries of other people. You need to release those worries and struggles. They are not yours to carry, if people around you don't care enough to do something for themselves why should you?? That is not yours to worry about. I know you are probably thinking well someone has to care...yea..but that person can't be you pile ll. You are literally tearing yourself down for other people just for them to what....get back with their toxic ex, overspend their budget asking you for money, etc etc..cut the cord. You need to worry and focus on yourself. You need you more, now than ever. Pamper yourself pile lll. Do a DIY spa day if you are short on money. Make a face mask or buy those $5 ones at the store, soak your feet in some Epsom salt, and play your favorite childhood movies. Relax. Maybe even get a massage if you have that kind of money. If you can turn off your phone for a weekend and focus on nobody but yourself. Ask yourself what do you want to do?

Extra Messages: Tarot: Judgement, Ace of Wands / The Chariot (reversed), Strength, 4 of Cups.

(Short Message for a very few) What you want is yours for the taking. All you have to do is ask....but you need to be sure what you want you have the strength for. Whatever this is for you pile lll just know that you are the only person in the driver's seat. It's time for you to decide what you want, where you want it, and when can you start. It's up to you to answer the call.

I hope this reading was insightful and gave some clarity or even guidance. Thanks to everyone who likes, reblogs my posts, and joins my Patreon. I always appreciate you <3.

Until Next time stay blessed and be safe.

The next pick acord reading will be for my Cosmic Stargazers on Patreon...not sure when it will be up but most likely before Monday or Tuesday.

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

and i'll find strength in pain

fandom: Bones (TV)

pairing: Lance Sweets & Reader

summary: You were the victim of a violent attack a few weeks ago. Agent Booth has been a comfort for you, but he's out of his depth. He suggests you visit Dr. Sweets to talk about what happened to you.

tags/warnings: rape aftermath/recovery (implied), sh, anxiety, panic attacks, dissociation, emotional hurt/comfort, therapy

word count: 3334

a/n: this one's for all the people who are still thinking about lance sweets 10 years later and who, to this day, refuse to watch ep 10x1. if i don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist

There’s a plaque on the door. It reads 2475, DR. LANCE SWEETS, Clinical Psychologist. You practically have the words memorized. You’ve been standing here for nearly five minutes, working up the courage to knock. Every time you raise your fist to do so, it trembles so violently that you drop it again. Agent Booth’s words ring in your ears from when he dropped you off:

Look for office 2475. Sweets will be able to help you.

Sweets will be able to help you.

Can anyone really help you though?

It’s been 2 weeks since the attack, and the five men who cornered you in that alley still haven’t been found. Your skin still prickles with the phantom of their touch. Every time you close your eyes, you see their sneering faces, their bulging eyes. You can’t walk home from work anymore. You can’t even drive past the alley without having to pull over and take 10 deep breaths, counting in for 3, out for 3.

How could anyone, anyone, help you with that?

Agent Booth has been kind so far. He’s not on your case, since it’s technically the state’s responsibility, but he’s the one who found you that night. He’s the one who drove you to the hospital while you were unconscious, stayed until you were awake. He wasn’t even deterred when you scrambled away from him, the sight of another man’s face leaving you panicking. He sat calmly and reassured you that you were safe and left his phone number on a napkin on your bedside table, along with a scrawled note, reading:

Call if you need anything. I can help you file a case.

You’d taken him up on the offer, calling the next day. He helped you make a report with the state, sat with you while you described your attackers to the forensic sketch artist. Although he’s not the most equipped to handle your moments of panic, never quite sure what to do, he still sits with you and talks you through it. Eventually, though, he must have realized he was out of his depth, because he referred you here.

To a psychologist.

For whatever reason, it’s ingrained in your mind that seeing a psychologist means you’re broken. You don’t want to think that way, but it’s hard not to. After what you went through, it’s easy to believe such things about yourself. Broken. Impure. Damaged.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and suck in a deep breath. You wonder if Dr. Sweets knows you’re standing out here. The embarrassment of that thought is finally what allows you to work up the courage to knock. Three quiet taps on the door.

“Come in,” a voice responds.

You open the door slowly and peek around the edge. “Are you… Dr. Sweets?”

The man looks up from his desk. You’re taken aback by how young he is. Surely this isn’t the FBI psychologist? He’s so… well, young. Still, it’s better than some middle-aged man, someone like the men who attacked you-

You shake yourself and step inside as he responds. “That would be me.” His smile is gentle and reassuring. “Are you Y/N?”

You nod, stopping just inside the door. You’re unsure of where to go – there’s a couch and a chair facing it, but there’s also a chair in front of his desk where he sits… Which one? Where do you go? You stand awkwardly, waiting for some sort of direction.

Dr. Sweets stands, smoothing out his suit jacket. “Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the couch.

A swell of gratitude washes over you at his clear instruction. You seat yourself gingerly on the edge of the cushion, locking your hands together in front of you. Dr. Sweets takes the chair across from you, crossing one leg over the other. He observes you for a moment, eyes searching, and you shrink into yourself a bit. It feels exposing to be in front of him, like he can see all your secrets without you saying anything. Your eyes roam the room and the walls, trying to find something to distract yourself.

“How are you?” Sweets asks gently.

You swallow thickly and look down at your hands. “Fine… Agent Booth said I should talk to you.”

He nods. “Yes, he gave me a quick briefing on your situation. Is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

You avert your eyes, looking to the walls again. There’s a large window on the one to your right, but the blinds are closed. You wish he would open them so you could look somewhere else besides his probing eyes. “I guess so.” Your voice is shaky. You clear your throat to try to hide it.

Sweets, meanwhile, has been carefully taking in your body language and movement. He’d heard you hesitating outside the door, heard your soft pacing footsteps and rapid breathing. Since you walked in the door, he’s realized that he needs to take a gentle, soft approach with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far. From what Booth told him, the assault is still fresh in your memory. “First of all, I just want to say that you’re very brave for coming here. I know it can be scary to talk about these things and I’m very proud of you for taking this step. You’re safe here, and you’re totally in control. If you ever want to stop, or you don’t want to talk about something, you just say the word, alright?”

You nod, mostly subconsciously. His words feel empty, although there’s a sincerity too them. You just can’t bring yourself to believe him yet.

Sweets sees through you right away. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Do you believe that you’re safe here?”

Your response comes out as barely a whisper. “No…”

He nods gently. “Can you tell me why?”

You look down at your hands again, twisting them around the opposite wrists. The movement is soothing, grounding. “I don’t… feel safe anywhere. It’s too new. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m back there…” You close your eyes briefly, but snap them open again when disturbing images fill your head. “I can’t escape it. Everyone is someone who could hurt me…” You drift off as you realize how much you’re giving away. These are the things you’ve kept close to your chest; it feels wrong to be saying them to a stranger.

Sweets can tell immediately when you start to become more uncomfortable. He eyes your hands, watching your fidgeting. He takes a moment to think before speaking again. He must tread carefully; he can’t risk you shutting down before he’s even gotten a chance to talk to you. “How about we stick to yes/no questions for now? Would that be easier?”

You shrug, twisting your hands a bit more roughly as the images continue to plague you. “Sure.”

“Are you aware of your surroundings at all times? Always… looking for danger?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah…”

Sweets keeps his voice gentle and quiet, but his mind is racing. The psychologist in him is searching for coping mechanisms, for things to say that might help; the human in him is fighting the desire to reach out and just comfort you. “Do you experience nightmares? Bad dreams?”

You nod again, eyes flicking back to the closed window. “Yes.”

“Do you ever have panic attacks? Moments of overwhelming fear or anxiety?”

You look up at the ceiling, twisting your hands harder. It begins to burn, but the feeling is good. It keeps you in the here and now. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Sweets watches where your eyes move, sees how you avoid eye contact at all costs. His own eyes dart to your wrists. Your fidgeting has grown more aggressive. He can see where your skin is becoming red and irritated. He frowns slightly. “Can I see your wrists?”

Your movements suddenly still and you shake your head. Shame floods your face.

Sweets notices the quick change in your demeanor. “Okay, we don’t have to look at them. Does the twisting help?”

You nod. “It… feels good. Calming.”

Sweets nods and files this information away for later. He’s going to help you find some healthier coping mechanisms – you can’t keep hurting yourself to stay grounded. “I get that. Do you want a stress ball or something? Something so you’re not hurting yourself?” He can already predict your answer, but it’s worth a shot.

You shake your head and grip your hands on your wrists. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Sweets leans back in his chair again. He wants to ask you about the assault, but you’re still so closed off. “Do you want some water? Maybe something else to drink, or eat?” He stands to retrieve a bottle for himself, hoping that it will make you feel more comfortable if he does it first.

Still, you shake your head. “I’m okay… do you have more questions?” You eyes drift to the door.

The young psychologist instantly notices your desire to leave and heads back to his seat, water in hand. He wants you to stay, wants you to start talking about this instead of bottling it up. “Couple more. Is that okay?”

You settle back onto the couch, hunching a bit to try and make yourself smaller. “Yeah…”

“You’re doing great,” Sweets offers you a reassuring smile although you’re not looking at him. “Can we talk about the attack?”

You hesitate, images flashing through your mind, before nodding. This is what you’re here for isn’t it? You can’t leave now. “What… what do you want to know?”

Sweets observes your closed-off posture, the hunch of your shoulders. This is going to take a while. He adjusts in his chair, trying to get comfortable while still staying professional. He speaks gently. “What were you doing before the attack?”

“Working,” you murmur. “I walked home.”

“Were you alone?”

You hum in affirmation, nodding your head. It had been so dark… The streetlight near the alley was out, you were walking through a shaded part of the sidewalk when they grabbed you…

Sweets watches as your eyes go glassy. He recognizes the beginning signs of dissociation and immediately works to pull you out of it, switching gears. “Where do you work?”

You shake yourself lightly and stare at the wall again. Your eyes settle on a divot in the paint, a spot where it’s been chipped away by a nail or something. “Newspaper… I’m a journalist.”

He nods and tilts his head at you, feeling a swell of pity. This really did a number on you. Booth described it to him, but he hadn’t gone into all the details… Clearly it was horrific if it’s causing you to be this dissociated and anxious. “That’s cool. Did you always want to be a journalist?”

For the first time, you meet his eyes. This topic is safe. These are things you can discuss. He offers you another reassuring smile as you shake your head. “I… wanted to be an astronaut. But my eyesight isn’t good enough.”

Sweets laughs lightly at the answer and you can’t help but crack your own small grin. His laugh is comforting, nothing at all like the men who attacked you… You shiver and refocus on his voice. “There’s a reason there aren’t many astronauts. Those requirements are very restrictive.” Sweets clears his throat and adjusts himself in his chair. You steel yourself, waiting for his next question. His distraction technique was effective, but now he has to get back to business. “So, you were walking home from work alone. What happened next?”

You swallow thickly and look back at the divot in the wall. Your hands go back to your wrists, feeling the warmth where you’ve managed to irritate your skin already. “I was walking by an alley… There were five men coming toward me. I was about to cross the street…” You suddenly are back in that moment, thinking the thoughts you were then. Your keys were clutched in one hand. Your other hand was shoved in your purse, gripping a small bottle of pepper spray. Your jaw was clenched, heart racing as you realized the danger you were in.

Sweets clears his throat to get your attention and you shake yourself out of your reverie. “You were about to cross the street. What then?”

“Um, they… they were quicker than me. They grabbed me and dragged me into the alley…” Your eyes go blank again. The divot in the wall seems to grow, a spec of grey that overtakes your vision. The world around you goes hazy. Sweets’s voice is a muffled background noise. Vaguely, you register the feeling of tears brimming in your eyes, of your hands twisting roughly against your wrists. The pain feels good, but it’s not enough.

Sweets watches closely, expecting you to continue, but then he notices the blank look on your face. You’ve gone completely still, save for your twisting hands. He observes you as you go pale, barely blinking. You’re completely shut down. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” He keeps his voice soft, gentle, trying not to scare you. He doesn’t know how far gone you are yet. He watches as your body begins to tremble, as your hands speed up in their motions. Your nails begin to catch against your skin, making harsh red lines across your wrists. Sweets knows he has to break you out of this, has to bring you back down to reality.

He stands slowly, walking around the coffee table to crouch in front of the couch where you sit. “Y/N. Listen to my voice. You’re safe here. You’re in my office at the FBI Headquarters. I’m Dr. Sweets, we’re here talking together. You’re safe, you’re not in danger anymore.” He keeps his voice level and soothing. He wants to reach out and touch you, but doesn’t want to jolt you. His eyes go back to your wrists, noticing how aggressively you’re scratching yourself. If you don’t come out of this soon, he will have to stop you from hurting yourself.

“Darling, listen to me.” The affectionate name slips out before he can stop himself. “Look at me if you can. You’re right here. You’re sitting on the couch in my office. You’re safe, I promise.” His words seem to be having no effect. If anything, your motions are becoming more frantic, your eyes more distant. Sweets sucks in a deep breath, hating what he has to do now.

He reaches out slowly to grip your wrists, wrenching them apart. You flinch at the touch, the first reaction he’s seen. He hates that it seems to be causing you more anguish, but you were near to drawing blood. He holds your wrists firmly, continuing to speak. “Listen, Y/N. I can’t let you hurt yourself. But you’re safe. Once you’re back with me, I’ll let you go, but you need to listen to me. You’re safe here. You’re not in any danger.” His voice breaks slightly on the words. He’s dealt with dissociation and panic attacks before, of course, but knowing the circumstances of yours makes it so much harder.

The wavering in his voice is what finally draws you back to reality. You blink slowly, and the divot on the wall shrinks back to where it belongs. Sweets’s voice becomes clearer, and you realize the firm grip on your wrists is his, not your attackers’. A choked sob forces itself from your throat as you look down at your joined hands. Suddenly your breaths come in gasps as you realize how deprived of oxygen you are.

Sweets loosens his grip a bit, realizing that you’re back with him. “There, shh. I have you.” He rubs soothing circles on your wrists, subtly reaching for your pulse with two fingers. It’s rapid, but steady. “You’re safe, I’ve got you. Deep breaths now.” He does some exaggerated breaths, trying to meet your gaze. You still stare at his hands on your own, but it’s not with glassy eyes. He lets out his own quiet sigh of relief.

You try to school your breathing, mimicking his slow breaths. Eventually, with his soft words and gentle coaching, you manage to soothe yourself.

Sweets finally relinquishes his hold on your hands, staying crouched in front of you. “There we are. Keep taking those deep breaths.”

You meet his eyes unsteadily. “I’m sorry,” the words come out quiet and broken.

Sweets shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. It’s perfectly reasonable to have such a reaction.”

You clasp your hands together in your lap, staring at the red lines that now adorn your wrists. You’ve never irritated your skin so much, and you feel embarrassed to have done so in front of this psychologist.

He tries to meet your gaze, attempting to draw your eyes from the injuries. “Let’s take a break, yeah? We can try again another day.” He offers you a small smile.

You nod. “I think… that would best.” You feel shaky and off-balance from the panic attack.

Sweets stands, being careful not to tower over you. He heads back to the fridge, retrieving a water bottle for you and a small packet of crackers. He sets them on the couch next to you before returning to his chair. He makes a point not to look at you, not wanting you to feel cornered or judged.

You take a slow sip from the water, all of a sudden feeling parched. You’re not sure what to say, not sure if you should leave now, or if you should stay. When you’re done drinking, you set the bottle down again and look at your lap.

Sweets clears his throat quietly and leans forward again. “Feel free to hang out here as long as you need. If you want to keep talking, I’m just going to be at my desk, okay?”

You nod, grateful that he won’t be staring at you. You don’t feel quite steady enough to get up and drive home yet, so you settle back into the couch, taking slow sips from the water and nibbling on small bits of cracker. Sweets taps away on his computer, occasionally glancing up at you to make sure you’re okay.

The panic attack left you feeling exhausted, and you’re trying hard not to fall asleep, but the couch is very comfortable, and you somehow feel safe here. Your head keeps lolling to the side and you have to shake yourself to stay awake. Sweets looks up and catches this at one point. He smiles to himself and calls to you gently. “Rest. It’s okay; you’re safe. Do you want a blanket?”

You fidget with your hands again, stifling a yawn. You’re too tired to even try to protest, so you nod your head. He stands and retrieves a fluffy blanket from a nearby closet, handing it to you. You thank him and wrap it around yourself, settling more comfortably into the couch as he walks back to the desk.

The next time Sweets looks up, you’re curled up on your side on the couch, breathing deeply with your eyes closed. He smiles again, feeling honored that you feel safe enough in his presence to sleep. He shoots a quick text to Booth letting him know that you’re ready to be picked up. Booth of course wants to know how the session went, but Sweets leaves him on read. You can tell him yourself, if you feel comfortable enough to do so.

Although Sweets didn’t manage to get you to open up as much as he’d have liked, he truly didn’t expect to. You’ve been through hell, and it’s going to take a long time to walk out of that. Still, he feels he’s made progress. You trust him, even if it’s just a small amount.

He has a feeling he’ll be seeing you again very soon.

[graciegoeskrazy]

yeah, you wanna find love

matty healy + teen!swiftie!daughter!reader

warnings: some language, angst, fluff, cheating

a/n: do u guys get the title? get it? get it? the title? cuz she sang it? the city? at satvb? get it?

ty bae anon who requested im in LOVE.

I know Eras and Matty and her dating happened way after Red TV was released but shhhhhhhhh

Like any other normal teenage girl, you got excited every time Taylor Swift dropped an album, announced an album, or did anything remotely hinting at herself and her work. Even if it was a far stretch, you were on social media like the rest ready to prove or debunk theories. Tonight, she’s releasing her second re-recording, Red (Taylor’s Version) You were a fan. Even though she and your father dated for like a month and now they never speak to each other and the chances of you seeing The Eras Tour ever again are slim to none, you admired her so much.

Your dad had said goodnight and sent you to bed more than an hour ago. You planned to go against his wishes a little bit and stay up and listen to the album. It was only one time, and it was for the sake of music, so if you got caught he wouldn't be too upset, right? …Right?

The plan was all fine until you got hungry. The kitchen was connected to the living room which is where your father spent most of his late nights, doing work, watching TV, sleeping, whatever. It was quiet so you assumed that he had already gone upstairs for the night or was fast asleep on the couch. It all gave you the confidence to believe that you could sneak into the pantry and not be seen. You were wrong, however.

“Go to bed.”

He was there. Wide awake. Just quietly scrolling through his phone.

You pouted. “C’mon. It comes out in like an hour.”

He never took his eyes off his phone. “And you have to wake up at 6 am for school tomorrow.”

“And I’m still gonna go! One night of staying up and listening to an album isn’t going to change my perfect grades or 4.0 GPA.”

“I said no.” His voice grew a little more stern.

Your begging was now at a full 10. “This is a big deal, Dad! Just because you can’t listen to Taylor anymore doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t!”

“What I say goes, you know that.”

You smirked. “Oh, so it was fine when it was your album?” He hated it when you were a smart-ass. Mainly because you reminded him too much of himself when you acted that way.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Go to bed.”

“Ughhhhh.” You slumped up the stairs.

“I love you, baby.”

“And I love your ex!”

…

Almost 2 hours later, Matty got tired of the things he saw on Instagram, and the yawns he kept giving let him know that it was time for bed. As he walked upstairs he heard the faintest sound

At first, he thought it was because of something he had done. He thought that maybe the attitude he showed earlier was too much, but on the other hand, he knew his girl was too tough for that to break her. He opened the door and saw your frame curled on the bed. Your face was buried in your pillow but it was evident by the bits that were showing that your face was red and littered with tears. You heard him open the door and walk to you, but you didn't move.

“What’s happened.” He asked quietly as he slipped in into the other side and pulled you close.

“Just shut up. I just need you.” You were harsh but he knew your tone held no true anger or hurt.

“Okay. Okay, I’m here. I’m right here.” He held you as you cried into his chest. You were sobbing. You tried to catch your breath between the hiccups and cries, but it took minutes for you to fully calm down. To you, those minutes felt like hours, and as time went on Matty became increasingly worried about the severity of the situation.

You took one last big inhale, then spoke. “He cheated on me”

“What?”

“He cheated on me…then dumped me when I found out.”

“When?! When did this happen?”

“A little less than a week ago.” He sighed, He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You and your boyfriend had been dating for nearly 2 years. From the way it looked to the outside world, you two were as happy as could be. Matty always had his doubts but he chalked it up to the typical dad senses overreacting, especially because you always looked so happy and you hadn't been that way in a long time. “I should’ve broken it off long ago.” You hiccuped and cried through your next words. “He ignores me. Everything I say. Everything I do. It's like I’m talking to a brink wall half of the time. I tell him I’ve had enough and he apologizes and makes me feel great like I’m the only one who matters, and then he makes the same fucking mistakes, over and over and over again. He likes the idea of a relationship but doesn't want to put in the work of having one. At least when it comes to me…”

Matty didn't know what to say. It was a complete shock to him. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing-”

“Yes, he does. He just doesn't care.”

“How did this happen, if this happened a bit ago then why are you crying just now?”

You hid your face again. He rubbed your back. “You’re gonna laugh…”

“I won't laugh-”

“You’re gonna be mad,” You said, looking up.

He smiled. “I won't. Promise.” He said, winking.

You sighed and buried your head back into him. “I was listening to the 10-minute version of All Too Well.”

“God, bubs.”

You sat up and looked at him. “Let me live! It was too real. I related too much. I’m serious.”

He reached his arms back up, guiding you to come back to him. “I know. Im sorry.”

You pouted as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Do you ever cry to my songs?”

“Only of embarrassment.”

[stanofwar2]

Journal Entry 1, 2

Saw that my poll was tied between oc journal entries, and a mix of all three. So here's the start of Leon's Journal entries of his time in Gravity Falls. Hope y'all like it!

Transcript/clear text below

June 12th

I can’t believe I’m writing in this old thing after so long, but what the hell else am I gonna do after all the weird string of events that happened this afternoon.. I’m not even sure how to start all this, I feel like a 10 year old writing in her diary… Oh well, not like I’ve got anything better to do. This old beaten up journal my therapist gave me a while ago to “ Journal and process my feelings ”  is finally serving a purpose while I’m stuck here.

So how did I get here? Simple, I was making my way through the back-roads in Roadkill County Oregon so I could cut down my travel time so I can get to my client Mrs.Vandersheisse quicker (I’m going to need to call her as soon as my phone is done charging)

But as I was cruising, enjoying the scenery of huge redwood’s expanding as far as the eye could see, I looked back to the road and crashed my car after a Gnome rode a deer into the middle of the road and startled me! Which caused me to panic and swerve out of the way and straight into a tree! Luckily my airbag deployed, only leaving me with a couple of bruises at the end. Once my head stopped spinning I dragged myself out to assess the damage only to see that the front of my car was wrapping around the trunk of the tree that didn’t even budge, almost mocking me. I was grumbling to myself as I leaned against a tree, practically fuming with anger when I heard a set of footsteps approaching, a rough, gravely voice following quickly as the stranger approached. He asked me if I was alright, saying he heard the crash from his house.

I told him I was, opening my eyes slowly and I.. I was a bit.. Caught off guard when I opened my eyes to look at the guy. He was, well. Not what I would have expected to see out here. To be honest I was expecting a redneck with the smell of patriotism thickly wrapped around him but Instead I was greeted by a somewhat heavy-set, but muscular, older guy with short gray hair wearing a tight red t-shirt and white pants, a gold chain that peaked out of the collar of his shirt, taunting me.. Drawing me in..

His eyes peered at me behind square glasses that framed his face well. From his accent he’s probably originally from a big city, I’m guessing Jersey.

He. Was. Hot. And I found myself stumbling over my words a bit, worrying if I had hit my head harder than I thought or if I was passed out. He didn’t seem to notice.. I think If he did he didn’t say anything, just continued to ask me if I was okay, how and why I crashed, and where I was heading. I told him a little before I felt dizzy and nearly fell over. I caught myself but this guy gently wrapped his arms around me and told me that it was probably best if I get my head checked out, so he walked me all the way to his place, keeping me steady, and finally telling me his name. Stan Pines. I told him mine and he told me how nice it was to meet me. He smelled like the ocean

I was a bit.. Surprised to see that his house was actually a tourist trap called the Mystery Shack. Which I swear I saw a bumper sticker for, though it didn’t have an address so how I or anyone would find it is a mystery to me (wonder if that’s intentional?) I awed at it, earning a good chuckle from the guy who asked me if I’d ever been, to which I said no. He smiled wide, going into a proposition speech about how it’s one of the best tourist traps in the Pacific Northwest, that he would know since he made the place. I chuckled, finding his spiel somewhat endearing. But eventually he got me inside and called out for someone named Ford and Soos (Or was it Zeus?)

Soos, the now apparently current owner of the Mystery Shack came out asking, “What is it dudes?” Stan filled him in about my car and told him to go into town and get a tow truck. Soos saluted and ran out, giving me his quick condolences for my car. Then, there was Ford. I shook my head when I saw him come in, asking Stan why he called him. I thought I was seeing double! Making me worry that maybe I’d hit my head harder than I thought. Turns out that he’s Stan twin and a big shot with 12 Phd’s so Stan wanted him to give me a check up. Stan caught him up, to which Ford gave me a concerning and serious look and quickly got to work, grabbing some stuff to give me a full check up. It was awkward as he prodded and asked me questions like my name, my birthday, who the current president was, and eventually asking what had happened, giving me a good look at him as well and noticing that he has six fingers, which caught my attention, but I didn’t comment on it, didn’t want him to feel like I was judging him, making me quite the hypocrite. I told him 90% of the truth, keeping out the Gnome part of it. He hummed, his mind whirling away, asking me about my last name and swearing that he’d heard it before somewhere in his research. I wonder if he knows my family?

I just chuckled and then finally met the other family members of the household. Mabel and Dipper Pines, 13 year old twins spending the summer at their “Grunkles” place. They were very sweet and friendly, practically interviewing me about who, why, and how I was here, to which I gave them all I was comfortable telling, leaving the more.. Weird parts out. Stan let us know that it would be a little bit before Soos told him how bad the damage on the car is. I was nervous as I sat there, people-watching the Pines family, their antics and general weirdness growing on me, easing my nerves. At least until Stan got the call from Soos.

So, Good news, I only had a minor concussion and would be fine shortly. Bad news, my car is pretty much completely fucked and it’s estimated it will take a whole month to get it running. A MONTH!! I was.. Well I was devastated. I am devastated still, wondering what gods damned me to be stuck here in the middle of nowhere!! And in a house so damn noisy and filled to the brim with spirits!! Ghostly lumberjacks meandering about, trying to get mine and others attention. Luckily, they all are pretty weak so as long as I ignore/tune them out, I’ll be fine. But it’s.. Not just them there’s a generally strange aura surrounding this place. I felt it in the woods, which is completely normal but for it to be this strong and consistent here? That’s the odd part, then again in general this whole area has felt.. Off. Not bad, just, off, different.

Anyway, I groaned, wondering what the hell I’m going to do now! Where I was gonna stay for a whole month! I heard some small whispering before Stan sat down next to me, cleared his throat and put his warm hand on my back, telling me he was “sorry that life had given such a nasty hand.” But he said that it wasn’t all bad news, that he and his brother had been talking and while they couldn’t help with the whole car issue, they could clear out a room in the Shack, giving me a place to stay until I can leave. I couldn’t believe it, why were they being so nice to me? I was.. Skeptical and Stan found that entertaining, letting me know that it was because there weren’t any good Motels in town and they could use an extra pair of hands to help around the house and to watch the kids. So basically they were giving me a place to stay in exchange for a free babysitter. Which, as annoying as that is, isn’t the worst offer I’ve had. So I agreed.

Mabel was all the happier to have another person to talk to. She gave me the ~Grand Tour~of the shack, eventually leading me to what would be my room, which was clearly a storage room that she and her brother had cleared out and tried to make look homey. Which was very sweet.

Eventually Soos returned, giving me my travel bags. Stan dragged a mattress into my “room”, gave me some sheets that he swore he “cleaned recently”  before giving me another apology about my car. But it was different than before, it was.. Softer, genuine. But I didn’t pry, just thanked him, to which he gave me another confident, exaggerated smile and told me “Anytime buddy, welcome to Gravity Falls” (Guess that’s the town’s name) before walking off to do Gods knows what. 

I’ve set up my bed, cleansed my room with some sage, and placed some warding crystals in the corners of the room, hiding them so the kids or anyone don’t mess with and or steal them. So now, here I am, sitting in my new room recounting the odd string of events that have led me here in a busted up journal that I don’t even remember packing.

I should stop here for now, Mabel peeked in to let me know that dinner is ready so I guess I’m off. Until next time.

Leon

[tentakilly]

Unpopular opinion but the SCP community thinks so objectively(as in one way) that a subjective(as in creative) explanation is immediately disliked or hated because it isn’t the normal sci-fi jargon.

(Rant/vent)

For being an extremely talented community of authors and artists and for being the world’s biggest collaborative writing project this community really, really hates a creative idea or observation that doesn’t fit a pre established cannon(just classic its always just classic).

A couple years ago on the SCP subreddit there was a kid asking how reality bending works there was over a hundred comments explaining the sci-fi world building and the op repeatedly responded to those comments with confusion they just kept explaining. When a commenter came in and explained it like it was an artstyle that comment and the ops comment thanking the commenter for helping them understand were downvoted into hell. You had to sort by controversial to find it.

A while back there was a post about how they didn’t understand SCP-3999 and wanted a little bit more explanation. All of the notes were filled with people explaining there hatred for the story and why it was bad. When the op kept asking for why the hate I other than it wasn’t scary they got shat on for it.

A while back on an old now dead account I commented on an SCP power scale meme(making fun of power scaling) that we could have them try and scale Darling Pink(and actual scp) because magical girls are allways a power scaler’s weakness(an actual problem in power scaling communitys). This joke was met with so many people going like “you can’t do that 682 solos” in a non joking way.

Speaking of 682 someone a while back said that there headcannon for it was that it was a thought experiment and that comment was met with so many people going “wrong 682 is an actual creature”.

One time there was a conversation about how there was this really good tale(forgot wich one) but a lot of people didn’t finish it because it was really long and wasn’t the kind of story they enjoyed. That conversation was met with “just finish it” and “if you don’t like it/understand it just read it better”.

Would you believe me if I said that all those examples came from my experience. This god damn “community” nearly killed my passion for art and writing on several occasions because I thought differently than everyone else.

Just like I’m belittled and looked down upon irl I’m mocked for thinking differently here no matter the site. It’s been like this since I joined the community at 10. No one bothered to ask if the questions came from an insecure child and mocked her relentlessly. Telling her, her art was bad and wouldn’t improve. Telling her she didn’t deserve to have her art seen by the world.

To this day I’m scared of posting officially on the wiki dot because i know my art and stories will get mocked relentlessly because they’re different. Because they’re mine. Because they’re a part of me. You guys nearly killed apart of me because you couldn’t handle a very obvious child’s questions about the story and world you built together. Because a child was looking for a place to hide from the world that was hurting her and you failed her and made her actively scared of participating in a community that’s supposed to be collaborative. The community that raised her.

My oc Toby Miller. I’ve posted about him only once compared to the rest of my SCP ocs and that’s because he’s so deeply connected to my struggles of being understood that I’m afraid of taking about him despite him being the main character because he will be called stupid. He will be mocked for being different than all the other official characters. He will be belittled and be nothing more than a dumb kids oc.

Yall can’t look beyond a surface level understanding and when people’s interpretations of a story vary vastly you get mad and kill there want to participate. It sucks.

[ghuleh-recs]

The holiday season is on its way out and I magically have the brain space for a rec list! Love that for me! Let's go read about Bone Daddy this week.

recs under the cut.

Kinktober Day 10 - @causticjuice - afab!reader

You keep doing your regular workout but your thoughts and eyes keep drifting to Secondo. His muscles straining, his chest heaving, the beads of sweat running down his forehead. You imagine you’re the reason for those, and not the weights in his hands. Fuck, you were supposed to focus on your body, not his. Stop being such a creep, you idiot. He can definitely tell. Your curiosity wins the battle with your will, though, and you look in his direction once again. And what you see nearly knocks you on your ass. His chest is completely bare, the tank top discarded somewhere to the side. His skin glitters with moisture in between the coarse hair. He seems busy enough that your blatant gawking just might go unnoticed. Unlikely, but possible.

Sliding Home - @ramblingoak - f!reader

It's Secondo's turn in the Ghaseball uniform and you can't stop ogling him.

Nave of Hearts - @leezlelatch - gn!reader

Do you believe in love at first sight? Secondo didn't, until he saw you.

Friday Nights at the Vinothek - @writingjourney - gn!reader

When the local vintner who buys his cigarettes at the kiosk you work at offers you a job you can’t believe your luck. But after moving to the vineyard where the attraction between you only grows, you soon realize that he is not quite who you thought he is – and that working for a vampire comes with unexpected dangers.

la bella luna - @ghostchems - f!reader

after a disappointing evening, you run into a mysterious man on the street.

The King - @kissingghouls - f!reader

You thought accounting would lead to a boring life. Then you started working for Mr. Emeritus.

Come Home to Me - @da-rulah - f!reader

No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with…

Fevered Love - @zombiequeenblog - f!reader

You take care of your Papa Secondo when he's feeling unwell.

Kiss Prompt Fic - @molly-ghuleh - afab!reader

"I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me."

Possession - @violet-lazer - gn!reader

Perhaps it was overconfidence, then, the fact that no strings had truly meant no strings in past dalliances, that had led Secondo to forget that it’s always, always a gamble. No matter how sure you are in your ability to keep a distance, to temper feelings, to avoid threading the needle of jealousy that could so easily burrow its way into one’s chest and tug, nothing is promised. Friends with benefits is fine, easy even, until somebody starts ruminating over the quiet, tender moments before and after the deed or the kisses that linger just a little too long. The gulf is vast between ‘let’s keep this casual’ and ‘let’s try something real.’ (Or: Secondo is finding 'friends with benefits' more difficult than anticipated.)

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[katareyoudrilling]

Random questions:

Thanks for tagging me @i-love-movies!

What’s your favorite color?

lime green

How long have you been on Tumblr?

I believe it is my 2 year anniversary in a couple days!

Where’s the place you’ve always wanted to travel to?

The UK

What’s your favorite clothing brand(s)?

Torrid has been working well for me lately

What’s your favorite singer(s)/band(s)?

I don't really have one. Though I do get excited for a new Bruno Mars song

What’s your current Lock Screen?

My cuties from nearly 10 years ago 😵‍💫 (which is also how long I’ve had this Lock Screen)

Most recent/current fixation?

I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube videos by this one ex Mormon lady

What’s your relationship status?

Married

What’s your dream job?

I really love figuring out process and making things efficient, so I guess something like that

Outside of Tumblr, favorite social app?

I don’t use any others. Messenger I guess lol

Do you have pets?

Yes

If you have pets, what kind and how many?

1 orange kitty named Patrick. He’s the best 😻

Do you prefer tea or coffee?

I have to tell myself I prefer tea because I can’t handle the caffeine in coffee so it’s what I drink every day

What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?

Graeter’s black raspberry chip (or Jeni’s pear reisling if they would make it again 😩)

Tagging: @schnarfer @burntheedges @ishabull @veryprairieberry @maggiemayhemnj

[nhlclover]

the last time | arber xhekaj

summary: after arber leaves you for the second time you let him know he’s on his last strike.

request: yes / no

warnings: angst (w/ slight happy ending)

a/n: based on ‘the last time’ by taylor swift. i will take any excuse to write a taylor swift song fic. also i miss him :(

word count: 1.36k

Again. It happened again. This was the second time I had watched Arber walk out of my life. The first was five months ago.

We had been together for six months. Six months I had dealt with his schedule and late nights out after games. Six months I loved him and admired his passion. And then he broke up with me, saying he needed space. It hurt. More than any breakup I had been a part of before. But I let him go. If he needed space then I would give it to him. Two months went by where I was miserable. I had missed my boyfriend and slept alone in a bed that had become accustomed to two. Then, he was back.

He was at my door, saying he wanted me back. He said it was a mistake and he was overwhelmed with his newfound fame from being in the NHL and a new relationship. I believed him. I took him back and was happy to do so. Three months passed by where we pretended like we had missed no time. No skipped anniversaries, no missed date nights. We were good for three months before we were sitting in my living room, Arber telling me this was a mistake.

“I thought I was ready but I wasn’t.” He said. He had a hurt look on his face, the same one he wore when he left me the first time. “It will only hurt us more if I stay. And I don’t want to hurt you anymore baby.”

Once again, I let him go. I was left miserable once again, seeing little remnants of his touch on my life everywhere I went. Anytime I saw the Montreal logo I thought of him and his passion for the game. Anytime I heard Morgan Wallen I remembered the time we danced on the balcony at 2 am to Somebody’s Problem. 

On what should’ve been our one-year anniversary, I sat alone in my room, my tv playing an episode of Hell’s Kitchen that was barely holding my attention. My eyes burned from the tears that came in with every new memory that passed through my head. The memories of the boy I still loved — because my feelings hadn’t yet diminished — ran through my head like a movie. First kiss, first date, the first time he told me he loved me and how quickly I said it back. The first time he got in a fight on the ice and the mixture of the sense of pride and fear that coursed through me. Every career milestone and how happy I was for him.

But with all the good memories, I remember the bad ones. I remember how alone I felt when he left the first time, then how utterly stupid I felt when he left me for the second time. I couldn’t go out with my friends for the fear of seeing him made my anxiety spike. I remember lying awake at night, wracking my brain for answers because, even though Arber explained why he ended things, it felt like I was missing something.

A knocking sound coming from the front of the house pulls me from my thoughts, sending a wave of fear through me. It was the dead of winter and the middle of a snowstorm at nearly 10 pm, who would be coming to my door? I got out of my bed and slowly walked to the front door. The knocking persisted, getting louder every few seconds. I grabbed the tennis racket that sat on the floor of the coat closet and slowly cracked open the door.

The sight of the person on the other side sent a different kind of fear through me. Arber stood on my front stoop, a bouquet of pink and white tulips in hand. I opened the door fully, the cold air from outside causing goosebumps to form on my exposed legs. 

Arber’s eyes are soft and delicate when he looks into mine which are bloodshot and lined with soaked eyelashes.

“Why are you here?” I ask even though I already know the answer. 

“I fucked up…” He croaks out. “I can’t stop thinking about you…here alone. I hate that I caused this.”

He motions to my face on which tears have once again begun streaking down. I wipe them away using the sleeves of my sweater which just so happened to have belonged to Arber. “Can I come in?” He asks me.

I’m tempted to turn him away. To tell him no. He’s hurt me more than once and if I let him in, I can’t be sure he won’t again. But the moment I saw his face, all our good moments clouded over the bad ones, and it’s like everything was better. My love for him overshadows any hurt he made me feel. How could I possibly turn him away when I love him this much?

I opened the door fully, letting him in, and shutting the door behind him. As he removed his coat, he glanced down at the tennis racket in my hand. Arber looked at me his eyebrows furrowed.

“Arber, you came to my house in the middle of a snowstorm at 10 pm.” I tell him, putting the racket back in the closet. “I wasn’t just going to answer the door unarmed.”

Arber walks into my home, finding his way to the kitchen. He goes into the cabinet where I keep my vases and takes the scissors from their place in the drawer to cut the stems. He still remembered where I kept everything.

There are a few moments of silence as I watch him cut the stems, placing each flower into the vase. He fills the vase with water, putting it on the counter in front of me.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” I say softly.

“I know you like tulips.” He replied. I sigh, looking past the flowers at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry baby.”

I avert my eyes feeling them begin to brim with tears. He comes around the counter, sitting on the barstool beside mine. “I know you’ve already given me a chance before and I blew it but… Please, y/n.”

“Why?” I ask him, looking at him with tears steadily falling from my eyes. “Why should I give you another chance, Arber? All you’ve done is prove you don’t deserve another one. I’ve given you a second chance and you wasted it.”

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve changed since, y/n.” He says. “I’ve grown as a person. I’ve found a way to deal with what it's like playing in the NHL and I know I can cope now. On top of that, I have never been as miserable as I am without you.”

I look at him, reading his expression carefully. His eyes scream nothing but sadness, the bags under his eyes telling much of the story. “How do I know you won’t leave me again?” I croak out.

“Baby, I can promise you I will never leave you again.” Arber says, cupping my cheek with his hand, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “I understand if you need time to think about it.”

There are so many thoughts going through my head all at once. I weigh out the bad memories and the good ones. I find my mind overwhelmed with the good ones, the love I have for Arber completely swaying my decision.

“Okay.” I say.

“Okay?” Arber repeats. “You’ll take me back?”

Arber has a grin on his face, bigger than the one he had when I told him I loved him. I nod. He scoops me up from the chair, spinning me around. Arber sets me down but keeps me in his arms. 

“Thank you, y/n.” He mumbles into my neck.

I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close. The familiar scent of his cologne washed over me, comfort enveloping me. I lean back from Arber, looking up at him.

“This is the last time I’m letting you back in,” I tell him. 

“This is the last time I’ll ask.” He says.

[xxxsharpcheddar]

It looks like you have no interesting at this point in working through this with him and you want to start over with a new person. It very much appears that you still love him with what you post about him. I am not saying your timeline of events is wrong, I am not suggesting that anyone coming forth isn’t being truthful. My guy did something similar nearly 10 years ago and I dumped him. He embarrassed me. My friends and family supported me, this same community supported me. I pushed him away. He got better, he wanted to change and he did. We didn’t talk for about two months. He never left my mind, not for a second. My friends said it was a mistake, the community said it was a mistake, I knew in my heart I wanted him. It took almost a year because we agreed to be in a relationship again. It took time but we got through it. We grew together. Our relationship got so much deeper and more intimate. It transformed how I look at the world and how I understand love and commitment. We have been married for almost 6 years now and I know I made the right choice for me to work it out. You and I are different people, and you have every right to choose to deal with this however you deem necessary. There is not a wrong way to process your anger and sadness.

I hope that either all of us or none of us are judged by the actions of our weakest moments but rather by the strength we show when and if we're given a second chance. No need to post or respond I just wanted to tell you that you have to be truthful to yourself and you can’t allow external pressures to make your decisions for you. Most will ever know how deeply you hurt or how deeply you love the person that hurt you. But I do. It was so hard to forgive him and work through this. I’m thankful I didn’t give up on my heart and the future father of my children. He would burn this world down just to keep me from being cold. You don’t find that in a person that hasn’t walked through fire to get back to you.

Best of luck,

Whew, thank you for sharing this with me. I think I loved the version of him that he painted for me. I don’t think I ever really knew this person. I fell in love with his manipulation tactics. I am mourning what I thought we had and what I envisioned we would become. But when I read those first batches of texts, my heart sank because the person I fell in love with could’ve never done that to me. This was a stranger who had been living in my house for over a month and letting me waste time and money on flights to visit him. I’ll never truly know if he is actually remorseful or just sorry he got caught.

I definitely think relationships can be worth pursuing if a mistake was made and everything was done in their power rectify it. Monolith-ad never acknowledged it. He kept spinning his web of lies and was so confused he started arguing his own texts.

“He would burn this world down just to keep me from being cold.” I love this. I even told him I don’t want a hero. I don’t want someone who’s trying to save the world. I want the villain, if that means putting me above other “conquests” or whatever validation he got from entertaining everyone else.

I think it’s a sort of high for him, among other things, and I hope he gets help. But the fact is I never knew this man. He knew me to my core, and he exploited that. Before I even knew the whole scope of this, and I was talking to my friends about what to do next, my friend said “love is not enough.” If you can disrespect someone you “love” to such an extent, I don’t want to be loved by you. Because that isn’t love.

I know I’m still in the depths of my pain and I am cynical and jaded. I think your experience is painfully beautiful and I do believe in second chances given the right circumstances. I dream about him most nights and wake up in a cold sweat or crying, so he clearly hasn’t left my subconscious. Thank you for sharing such a vulnerable experience. I know you said I didn’t need to respond, but I really appreciate the honesty and vulnerability