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runningfrom2am · 9 months

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leveling the playing field XVI

summary: you can finally go home.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do.). implications and mentions of abuse and some non-graphic violence, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation.

a/n: i can't believe this is it :') the final part (excluding the epilogue which is coming v soon). thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

"Y/N/N. Do you have your clothes from home?" Coryo asks, pulling the boat back up onto the shore. The guns were gone. He's free to go home if he wants.

"Yes." You nod. "I couldn't get rid of them if I wanted." You chuckle, looking up into the woods behind the cabin, hoping Sejanus is long gone by now.

"Okay. You're gonna stay here, just for a few days, and then I'll come get you before the train leaves. I'll take you to Two with me, just wear those. You'll fit in better."

"Okay..." You nod, nervous about being out here all alone for so long.

"I'll come bring you food as much as I can." He knew it would be a long hike each way to come see you, but he would have to carve out the time. He looks up at you quickly from digging through his own bag when he hears you sniffle. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I- uhm..." You clear your throat, fanning your eyes to keep any tears from falling. "I'm just scared." You try and laugh it off, shaking your head slightly.

"Don't be scared." Coryo shakes his head, dropping the bag to grab your shoulders. "Hey, you're gonna be okay, Darling, but we don't have another choice. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I know, I know that..." You sniff, looking up at him. "Is she dead?"

"Yes." He answers quickly. "I buried her. She can't hurt you." He promises. Was that true? No, definitely not. There was no trace of her after the shot besides her earring on the ground, but he had hit her. He was sure of it. There was no reason to tell you that, though, just to scare you more. You couldn't go back to town, there was nowhere for you to hide while peacekeepers searched every inch of the populated part of the District for days while he waited for his train.

"Okay." You whisper, taking a deep, shakey breath as you look around at the suddenly scary forested area around you. The rain had started to clear up, which helped with the sun peeking through the clouds to brighten up the lake. If Lucy Gray hadn't ruined everything, you would probably be getting ready to keep moving.

"Just, try to relax out here. Okay? Go for a swim, just enjoy the fresh air." He smiles softly, brushing some hair back out of your face as he tries to make you feel better.

"I've had enough of the woods for the rest of my life." You scoff, shaking your head under his hold.

"I know, Y/N/N, I'm sorry. It's only a few days. Like I said, I'll come back for you whenever I'm free." Even if he could only stay for five minutes before he had to turn around and make the trip back to town, he would do it. "Then we'll figure everything out. I'll handle it."

"I... I just want to go home, but I can't." You cry, letting him wipe your tears as your chest flushes with the emotion.

Coryo winces at your tears. He hates seeing you cry, and he has seen it far more times than he would have liked to in the last few months. "I'm going to figure it out. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise." He says softly, trying to get you to look at him.

You lean into his palm, closing your eyes as you try desperately to pull it together. You were exhausted, but this was the last thing Coryo needed right now. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a moment."

"I know. You're okay." He chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead and pulling you into a hug, rocking your body gently back and forth. "You know, I think the last time you said that to me was the day I realized I was in love with you." He hums, squeezing your shoulders gently.

You laugh, which makes him smile. It's what he wanted. "I feel like that's a bit dramatic."

"No, it's true." He grins, craning his neck to look down at you. "You defended me, and you listened to me, and you looked just so pretty doing it..."

You bury your face in his shirt to hide your blush.

"You're always on my team, and I appreciate that. I really do." He explains, satisfied that he's made you feel at least a little better. "I hope you know I'm always on your side, too."

You nod slightly, smiling through your tears as you look up at him. "I know."

"Good." Coryo whispers, kissing your nose. "I love you."

"Really?" You whisper, eyes lighting up as you wring your hands together against his chest in front of you. "You're not just saying that because I'm crying on you?" You laugh slightly.

"No, I do." He nods in confirmation, grinning down at you in admiration. "There's no one else in this world I can trust as much as I can trust you."

"Then why'd you give her your scarf?" You ask, tilting your head. "It looked... valuable."

"It was. It belonged to my mother..." He says solemnly. He suddenly shakes his head, mocking your expression as he changes the tone. "You really were dead to the world, huh? I was holding it, and she just asked if she could see it. Then she didn't give it back." Coryo explains, raising an eyebrow at you. "Why, are you jealous of the dead girl?"

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, attempting to shove him away.

"Hey, I'm kidding." He laughs, pulling you close again by your wrists. "Don't you trust me?"

"Okay, yes, I trust you." You giggle as he drops your wrists, sliding his hands over your waist.

"And you love me?" Coryo asks, urging you on.

"And I love you." You grin, nodding slightly.

"That's my girl..." He hums, running a hand lower down your side, thumb running over your midsection as he leans in to kiss you. He had you right where he wanted you, he'd wanted to say that for ages. Only since he even clued into the fact that the buzz he gets under his skin when he catches you smiling, anyway. Realistically, you were something he had always wanted. Picturing his future over the last few years when he was dragging himself out of bed every morning desperate to arrive to class on time even on an empty stomach, his daydreams of his success always included your own, as well.

Now, it was only the two of you. He was so right about you, you were perfect in every way. Smart, obedient to him and only to him, but you fought for what you wanted. You knew struggle, pressure, and soul crushing expectations in the same way he did. Through all of it, you were there for him. You were beautiful- and he was the only one smart enough to see past your occasional outbursts. No one knew how to navigate you like he did, and he was lucky that few people ever bothered to try.

The most beautiful girl in all of the Capitol, and you were his. He meant it when he said that he would never let anyone hurt you. He couldn't let anyone take you from him.

"Do you know where we're going? Where Tigris and your Grandma'am are living?" You whisper, curled up next to Coryo on the train as it pulls into the Capitol station. You're holding the orange silk scarf in your hands, using it as a small blanket in the cold train car. You had spent most of your time out by the lake trying to clean it- but dirt was a stubborn stain. You'd have to be more thorough once you had access to cleaning supplies again. You couldn't let such a lovely piece of clothing go to waste, especially when it was so valuable to him.

"I don't..." Coryo mumbles in response, staring out the window as you lean your head against his shoulder, knees tucked up to your chest. "They shouldn't be hard to find, though."

The wheels screech to a slow stop in the familiar city, and you can't help but smile at the endless sea of grey architecture. It wasn't anything like the forest in Twelve, and you loved it. The door slides open and some peacekeepers enter, drawing both of your attention as you sit up away from him.

"Dr. Gaul is expecting you both in her lab immediately." One of them informs you, and you nod a little bit, looking nervously over at your boyfriend.

You hung off his arm for the entire car ride and all the way to the lab as you're escorted by the men in the matching uniform to his own. Your clothes were dirty, despite how many times you cleaned them back in District Twelve. You had cleaned them obsessively throughout the last couple of months, but the water was never quite clear enough to be helpful. It was vile. Surely you smell unpleasant due to this, and you were hoping you would have a shower before confronting anyone from your previous life, but clearly, you weren't so lucky.

"Do I stink?" You whisper, trying to avoid the echo of the large room as your heels click across the linoleum flooring.

"Not any more than I do." Coryo answers, a small smile pulling on his lips as he glances down at you.

You giggle, gently slapping his chest as he removes his hat.

"Congratulations, Mister Snow, Miss Y/L/N. You've passed all my tests." You look up at Dr. Gaul for the first time as she speaks to you, tossing something into a pool on her floor. "I've asked President Ravenstill to grant you both a full pardon, effective immediately."

You don't say anything as you both stop in front of the tank in the ground, staring into it as Coryo revels in the shock. "I also told him that you are too promising to be wasted in the Districts. So you will be studying under me at the Capitol University."

While she speaks, you pull Tigris's coat tighter around yourself at the slimy, vicious look of whatever creatures are splashing around inside that tank that she is continuously feeding.

"We can't afford university." Coryo answers on your behalf, forcing you to look up at the woman across from you. While you were incredibly grateful, you were scared. Things were complicated back at your parents' home, and even with a legal form of forgiveness, it's not likely your father will see it the same way. You couldn't go back, and he wasn't likely to give you a dime or let you go free. Within the week, you'd probably die from an "unknown illness" contracted in the Districts if he found out you were home.

"A certain Mister Strabo Plinth has offered to pay for everything you need while you're there. All for being such good friends to his Sejanus." Dr. Gaul explains and your heart drops in your chest. You can't help but wonder if he's even still alive out there, in the North. "He doesn't know quite how good a friend you were, of course. I never mentioned your little recording. Quite impressive, Mister Snow, how you sent your only friend to the grave just to get my attention."

"That's not what I did." Coryo shakes his head at the allegation.

He squeezes your arm in warning, knowing this topic was a fine line to walk. "Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all."

"Sejanus Plinth is not dead." You blurt out without thinking. She tilts her head at you, looking at you intensely, a knowing smile growing on her lips.

"Oh?" She asks, and internally you struggle for a saving grace while Coryo furrows his brow at you. You hadn't seen Sejanus since you sent him away, but you did try looking for him in your days out there alone. You had to believe he was alive, after you gave him his way out.

"Well, I heard that he had escaped in Twelve. As far as I know, they never found a body. He planned on running off anyway. That's likely what he did." You explain, clearing your throat.

"I agree. That is likely, but the odds he would survive out there..." She shakes her head slightly, dropping another treat into the tank as the creatures snap at it. "Anyway, the president has agreed to another year of the games! People watched, and I have you kids to thank for that."

You and Coryo wear matching grins now, posture perfect to match your collective pride.

"But before I take you under my wing, after everything you've seen out there in the real world, let me ask you one final time." Dr. Gaul says, looking pointedly between the two of you. "What are the Hunger Games for?"

You look up at your boyfriend, nodding for him to answer. "I used to think that the Hunger Games were a punishment for the districts. Then, I thought they served as a warning to us here in the capitol, about the threat the districts posed. Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need the Hunger Games every year to remind us all who we truly are."

"And who are you, do you determine?" Coryo looks down at you as she speaks.

"We are the Victors." You finish with a proud smile, looking at the woman across from you who seems more than pleased with your answer.

"Coriolanus, what are you doing back so soon?" Your mom greets him as she opens the door of your childhood home, smiling sadly, confused as to the condition of his return.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am." He smiles politely, grey uniform cap now clutched to his chest. "I proved to be exceptional in my training. Dr. Gaul saw it was better Y/N and I work under her at the University."

"Y/N?" Your mom gasps, reaching up to cover her mouth with her hand. "She's alive?"

"I assure you, she is safe." Coriolanus nods. "Now, may I speak with your husband? I won't take up much of his time." He brushes past her, entering the home without waiting for permission.

"Well, dear, where is she?" Your mom asks, letting him pass and closing the door quickly. "Why hasn't she come home?"

"I think you know why she hasn't come here." He hums, looking around. "Where is he?"

"His study." Your mom answers quietly, gesturing up the stairs. "I'll walk you."

"No need. I know where I'm going." He gives her a small smile in return, following the familiar path toward your room.

He stops in front of your father's study, knocking before taking a step back. The force of habit leads him to stand at attention while he waits for permission to enter.

"I'm busy, don't bother me." Your father's voice echoes through the ornate lining on the door. Then he realizes, he doesn't need permission. Not anymore.

Coriolanus huffs, opening the door and stepping in.

"I said-" Your father growls, slamming his pen down on the desk before he looks up and takes in the grey of Coriolanus's decorated peacekeeper uniform. "Coriolanus."

"Sir." He nods in response, closing the door quietly behind himself. "May I sit?" He asks coldly, gesturing to the chair across from him.

"Please." Your father nods, brow furrowed as to what the blonde boy could possibly want, or what he is doing back so soon.

"Y/N isn't here, son." Your father sighs. "She-"

"I know that." Coriolanus interrupts, placing his hat on the desk between them.

"You know where she is." Your father's tone is unsurprised, but questioning.

"I do." He confirms, back straight in the chair. He had always been afraid of your father, but this was built on an admiration. He reminded him of what little he remembered about his own father. This morphed into anger slowly but surely over the last few years, picking up several hints either in your appearance, demeanor, or choice of words which painted an incredibly unflattering picture of who the man sitting in front of him truly was.

Your dad hums in response, eyes locked on the boy. "How was your summer?"

The question catches Coryo off guard, but he puts all his focus into maintaining his poise. He has the upper hand, here, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. "It was good. Certainly an eye-opening experience, the people out there are very... different."

"Then what brought you back so soon?" His neglect to even ask where you were, if you were okay, if you were even alive makes Coryo's blood boil in his veins.

"Dr. Gaul." Coriolanus states, swallowing before he continues. "She granted your daughter and I a full pardon in exchange for taking an internship under her at the university. After all, that is her dream, is it not?"

Your father's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of your name. "It was." He agrees.

"Is." Coriolanus corrects him, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "Strabo Plinth has offered to pay our way."

"Of course he has." Your dad chuckles, but not an ounce of humour reaches his eyes. "Self righteous bastard..."

"Seeing as you don't care about her as much as you care about your own reputation, he saw it would be a way to repay her for her loyal friendship to his son. She saved his life twice, after all." Coryo ignores your father's comment, watching as the gears turn in his head, trying to remember the second time.

"I know you think you understand my daughter, Coriolanus, but there are some parts of her you will never know. Not truly." Your father responds coolly. "So, I'm not sure what she has told you, but-"

"But nothing." Coryo cuts him off, leaning back in his seat. "Here is what is going to happen. You will have nothing to do with her, her life, her mistakes, or her decisions any longer. Since, in your own words, you see her as such a burden, I am willing to free you of that."

Your dad grits his teeth together, and it's his turn to lean forward. "Coriolanus Snow, you will not speak to me that way in my own home. Y/N is my daughter, and I shall be involved as I please and I shall do with her what I deem appropriate to consequent her actions."

"No." Coryo replies sternly, standing up abruptly, unabashed by the sound of the chair scraping across the wooden floor as he slams his fist on the desk. "She is eighteen. I take responsibility for her now, and unless you want to lose everything you and Highbottom have built, you will cut me in on every dime you make. Do you understand?"

Your dad laughs again. "And who will believe you, Coryo? You're just kids. You don't know what you're talking about. Whatever she told you is untrue. Simple as that."

"Would you like a list?" Coryo threatens. "Is that a risk you're willing to take, Y/D/N?"

He sighs, standing up to look eye to eye with him, clearly seething with the disrespectful use of his first name. "She's more trouble for you than it's worth, Son."

"That is my decision to make." Coryo says through gritted teeth.

"Suit yourself." Your dad raises his hands in defeat, careful to not show any fear. Coriolanus could see through it, though. He's won, and he knows it; it was a great deal, if your father was smart enough to see it that way. "How much do you want? Money is nothing to me."

"More than Highbottom gets." Coriolanus requests plainly, grabbing his hat and placing it back over his head. "And you'll pay for our wedding." He adds casually, pushing the discarded chair back into its place. "You'll pay for as many dresses and parties as she wants, every drink, every slice of cake, and every last flower she wishes for exactly how she wishes for it. No compromises, and no surprise appearances from you. Are. We. Clear?" He speaks clearly, intentionally enunciating every word with a trace of venom.

"Crystal." Your father scoffs, taking a drink from the whiskey glass on his desk.

Coriolanus nods, giving him a small smile. "Good. I'll be expecting the money orders every other week." He grins smugly, giving your father a quick bow before heading for the door, stopping as his hand brushes over the handle. "All due respect, Sir, which I deem to be very little, but what you have done to your daughter over all these years is what has made her into the woman you hate. Don't think I was the only one who noticed, and you would deserve every bit of harm we could do to your name. If you ever so much as speak to her again, I will kill you myself."

Coryo glances back at your father's expression only briefly before leaving. He couldn't resist the satisfying look of loathing and anger on the man's face.

The small smile sticks as he walks down the stairs, hearing the crystal glass shatter as it's thrown against the door behind him.

Finally, you were totally even.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg series #thg

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wasyago · 11 months

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unsure if you’ve been asked this before but what is your character designing process?

i have already answered in this post (you can go read it if you want), though it's more jrwi based, so i feel like i can answer again! i doubt I'll end up saying something new but hwhatever who cares dhhdhd

obviously this isn't math, so there's no specific scheme i follow every time, and each design is different and it all varies heavily.

in general, when i start working on a design i already have *some* sort of idea in mind. normally not for the entirety of it, but some bits and pieces here and there that help me characterize the design in my head! i try to get those on the canvas first. they're like key points, and i most likely wont change them.

(and if i don't have an idea, i don't start drawing. and instead scroll through my gallery or pinterest in search of inspiration)

let's take my Gem's recent design as an example! i knew i wanted her to be a squirrel, and i already had squirrel scar and cub designs to base it off. so the key points were big pointy ears, curvy tail, claws. i also knew i wanted her clothing to look regal and floral, and reflect her main base. this is an idea that i haven't fully visualized, but i kept it in mind and knew in which direction i had to move.

after that comes the point where i start making stuff up 👍👍 i enjoy thinking my designs through and making them make sense in my head and be practical. so the process consists of me asking myself questions and then answering them in a design. with occasional "oh wouldn't that be cool" thrown into it.

continuing with gem. she needed to have her clothes be suited for a tail, so her underskirt splits in three parts to make it easier. i still wanted the design to be recognizable as gem and have it resemble her skin; so i kept the white sleeves, the green skirt, the corset. i wanted to make her and scar's designs match, so i changed the corset to green with this long piece of cloth but decided to change the patterns on it. because the brown from the corset was gone, i removed it from her shoes as well and made them black instead, so brown wasn't part of the color pallett anymore. i will introduce pink into the design later, so getting rid of one of the colors wasn't that big of a deal. plus, brown makes her look more down to earth, whereas i want her to look elegant and rich, so its a win/win. i wanted to keep her antlers, but obviously she's not a deer anymore, so i turned them into a crown and made it black to match the shoes. etc etc. i can ramble for three more hours about this hdgshsh.

well, that's how the well thought designs work.

sometimes it's just "im gonna draw all the things i think are fun and cute until i can't think of any" and there's no rhyme or reason to it. that's why things like "doc as a unicorn", one-off series designs, random concepts, aus exist!

sometimes its a "i have no idea what to do with it, so im gonna merge all the layers together and just keep fiddling with it until i figure it out", and that's exactly what happens. if i feel stuck with a design, merging it together and working with both line and color helps a ton, because it helps me to see the design as a whole and i dont have to divide my process and think of which parts im gonna do in color and which in line! recent example is hypno's design. here it is when i didn't know how to make it interesting and the final version:

(funnily enough i still like the first concept, the fact that all the clothes is the same color is quite tasty. but i know that if i needed to draw this design in the future, i would struggle with keeping the clothing layers separated and shading and all that stuff.)

visually i don't think there's much difference between how i design things (?), but the process varies and in my head they're all on like, different tiers.

hopefully this was somewhat helpful! if not it at least let me ramble about my design process which is great hdhsjsh

#long post #yagotalk #how to yago

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newbtheveryawesomeandkindanewby · 4 months

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As I’m sure you know, Hazbin Hotel’s central character is the princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar. A lot of people have said a lot of things about her, but I’m here to touch on a subject that doesn’t get brought up much: her title.

Part 1: What does “Princess of Hell” really mean?

When most people think of princesses, they tend to imagine Disney ones. Fancy dresses, animal sidekicks, singing a lot, all that jazz. Charlie tends to engage in musical numbers, and she does have a few marketable pets, but her wardrobe is severely lacking. Clothes are an excellent way to signify a character’s job and status. If you put a character in a big sparkly dress, everybody looking at them will go “yep, that’s a princess.” So far, Charlie’s never worn one of those. Her main outfit is the suit-bow tie combo that Medrano just loves, making her feel like every other demon in the crowd.

Okay, maybe Earth and Hell are different in this regard. (Heh, that’d be a first.) Maybe high-status demons don’t wear fancy clothes! Except we’re forgetting one detail: the Goetias. They also use titles like “prince” and stuff, and they’re always dressed to impress! The one exception to this is Octavia, but that’s most likely because of her teenage angst, a trait Charlie doesn’t share.

While we’re talking about the Goetias, there’s another thing worth bringing up. As previously stated, they tend to use royal titles. Stolas is a prince, and he’s supposedly one of the less important ones! Stella’s a royal of some flavor, and that might not have even been through marriage! Compounding on this, the Deadly Sins are all stated to be the king/queen of their respective sin! Or have we forgotten Miss Queen Bee’s antics? With all these royals running around kissing and/or shooting each other, Charlie is once again lost in a crowd of standard Tumblrized monsters.

So maybe her royal title isn’t the important part. Maybe what really matters is that she’s Lucifer’s kid. Makes sense, right? Well, no. The purpose of an heir is to take control of their parental figure’s assets (Hell, in our case) after said parental figure kicks the bucket. This doesn’t work here, since Lucifer’s immortal! He sure ain’t goin’ anywhere! Historically, princesses were mostly just used as bargaining chips to marry off to other kingdoms in exchange for stuff. That really doesn’t work here, because in this show there are no other kingdoms! You really think the ruling powers in Heaven are gonna want their kids marrying some demon?

So now that we’ve established that the title ‘Princess of Hell’ is virtually meaningless, we reach my second point: why even have it?

Part 2: Why even have it?

As any good English teacher will tell you, everything within a story was done for a reason. Yet, Charlie being a princess serves no narrative purpose. She never uses her title to get what she wants, and everyone around her treats her exactly the same way they’d treat any other demon. You could say it was to introduce Lucifer more organically into the story, but there’s other ways to do that.

One of the many, many aspects of storytelling that Medrano struggles with is the act of killing your darlings. What that means is, if something in your story isn’t doing much and thus has no reason to exist, get rid of it, no matter how much you like it. Viv’s inability to do this is the reason everything she writes has so damn many characters, and by extension why almost none of them are remotely interesting. A character being the Devil’s daughter sounds interesting, but if the writers can’t make it interesting, they shouldn’t do it.

So, why did Viv make Charlie a princess? Here’s my theory; writers want their main characters to be relatable to general audiences, and Viv must’ve forgotten that general audiences aren’t composed of upper-class white women whose every need and want is supplied by their affluent parents. To the rest of us, such a character risks invoking that very worst of writing tropes. I won’t type it right here, but it has seven letters and sounds like hairy stew.

#anti vivziepop #hazbin hotel critical #anti hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel criticism #anti charlie morningstar

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jumbled-thoughts-here · 1 month

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Hi guys... I'm back >:7 More Prince/Pirate Scarian hooray!! Also I'm gonna start using the tag #2's Prince/Pirate Scarian so it's easy to find :3

*The scarred man chuckled,* "No need to thank me, sunshine. I can treat your other cuts n’ scrapes if you’d like? I can’t do much ‘bout the bruises, though."

*Grian thought for a second. Sure, he’d like to get rid of the slight sting of the wounds on his body, but also.. He really didn’t want Scar to.. Care? Like, it’s weird, okay?!*

*So the prince simply shrugged in response, fiddling with the end of his robes.* “Hm. So no, then? Alright. Do you need a change of clothes instead, little prince?”

*Now **that** sounded nice. The blond nodded, looking Scar in the eyes. The captain smiled - a little lopsided, sure (It’s cute, to Grian at least- wait who said that!?)- but it was genuine.* “Alright, birdie. You can wear my clothes, and maybe I can convince my crew to spare some fresh water (since fresh water is usually saved for cooking instead). We don’t necessarily have baths here, so you can rinse off with a bucket of water and a towel instead. I won’t make ya jump in the sea like the rest of us.” *Grian snickered softly, speaking in an amused tone.* “Why, thank you, *cap’n.* It’s an *honor* to be able to use some fresh water.”

*Scar simply stood and rolled his eyes, walking over to a dresser and rummaging through its drawers.* “Whatever you say, darling. Also, you’ll be wearing my clothes. I might have something small enough for you..”

*Grian huffed,* “You say that like I’m petite.” “You are.” “No I am *not,* you’re just.. Freakishly large!”

*Scar scoffed, grabbing a pair of gray trousers, boxers, and a white and flowy long-sleeved shirt. He then looked through a small box, pulling out a necklace - golden with an emerald charm.*

“I’ll take that as a compliment, princey.” “I’ll have you know it wasn’t one.”

*Scar smiled - Grian didn’t want that, damn it! He wanted Scar to.. Not be so happy all the time? He didn’t know, just- anything but that fucking smile!* “Sure, angel, whatever you say.” *He placed the clothes on Grian’s lap, shoving the necklace into his pocket.*

“I’ll be back in a moment, I’m going to get you stuff to wash up with.”

#desert duo #grian #gtws #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #goodtimeswithscar #scarian #2's Prince/Pirate Scarian

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mars-and-the-theoi · 1 year

Text

Low energy Devotional Acts for when you don’t have a lot of energy (or time, or money, etc.) pt. 9

🔥Hestia🔥

- put on one of those fireplace videos, or light a candle, or if able light your own fire in the fireplace (or have a bonfire)

- listen to a devotional playlist for Her

- if able do some cooking/baking

- if unable to do that gather some recipes either online or in any cookbooks you may have!

- watch a cooking/baking show

- try your hand at making bread

- watch home renovating, decorating, etc. shows/videos

- if able do some cleaning- doesn’t have to be anything huge just something small like maybe just picking some socks up off the floor or something

- enjoy a hot drink (tea, coffee, hot cocoa)

- watch your comfort movie/show

- if able learn how to knit, crochet, etc. or do some if you know how and are able

- if unable watch knitting or crocheting videos/tutorials

- if able (in every sense of the word here) spend some time with your family or text/call them can be your blood family or chosen family or even your good friends! (Family can be anything you want it to be imo)

- look up important home keeping skills! And watch videos or tutorials on them if you don’t know them (like mending clothes, ironing, etc.) which are all good skills to have ((I add this one because I know at least in America home ec classes have been cut and are pretty much nonexistent like I went through it in middle school but then they got rid of it once I went to high school and in hs it wasn’t mandatory like it was in middle school))

- read up on how to be a good host or guest

- if you like hosting events plan your next gathering

- go through photo albums or pictures and reminisce on the happy, funny, and joyful moments

- if able donate to a food bank (I personally go through my kitchen about 6 times a year-I do a lot of the kitchen work/organizing in my family as I do the cooking so y’know I’m already there so I may as well-and whatever I haven’t used or no longer have plans for I donate! Ofc make sure it’s not expired first and also if able include things like a manual can opener and such! So even though I don’t have too much money myself this system enables me to still be able to help which personally makes me feel good as I grew up utilizing those things so it’s nice to help!)

- if you have pets spend some time with them! They’re important family members as well! Maybe spoil them with their favorite treat and/or activity! Cuddle with them! Just let them know they’re valued and loved family members as well

- be kind to the homeless (yes, even the “bad” ones they’re ppl too and unnecessarily cruelty isn’t helping anything)

- look up ways to help the homeless and if you’re able help out or volunteer or donate (I might make a separate post on stuff to donate as there’s a lot of stuff some folks don’t think about when it comes to giving donates and such)

- hell you could even volunteer or donate to an animal shelter! If that’s more for you and something you’re more comfortable with! They’re homeless too are they not? (I do some volunteer work at the animal shelter myself so I’m very passionate about this)

(and if you have to utilize anything like food banks or government assistance in any capacity work on not feeling bad for needing those things. I know, easier said than done trust me I know again I grew up using those things. But you’re simply getting what you need to survive. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re not bad, you haven’t failed, you’re not a leech, etc. you’re just someone trying to survive and there’s no shame in that. There’s no shame in needing help. And not only is that a great devotional act in itself, it’s also just great in general. I do a lot of activist work and such and trust that there’s people who care and people who-again, like me-get it. You’re okay. You’re still a good person. And still deserving of good things.)

#got a little bit political but I’m heavily involved in activism and such and that ties into my worship so 🤷‍♀️#low energy low effort devotional acts #cause we all have those times where we just need something simple #hellenic polytheism #helpol #hellenic pagan #hellenic pantheon #hellenic paganism #hestia deity #hestia worship #normally I just queue these but I really like this one #so it’s getting some vip treatment

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zombiigrll · 3 months

Note

Can I request a Carl x male reader set after 7x1 where reader comforts Carl about what happened and maybe they plan to infiltrate the sanctuary together and when Negan insults Carl, reader comforts him again after he's left alexandria?

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TO THE MOON AND BACK. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x male!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 3.7K ꩜ .�� WARNINGS ⭑ angst + fluff, spoilers for the walking dead 7x1-7x7, swearing, kissing, gore, flashbacks, use of y/n! .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ after the lineup, you and carl were determined to get back at negan. so, you decided to make a trip to the sanctuary together. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you for the request anon! and im so sorry i know i definetly changed some things about this prompt </3 i was having a difficult time with how to write the exact prompt. i hope you still like it! (EDIT) oh my god. im SO SORRY. i didn't read that you specifically requested a male reader </3 i went through and tried to get all of the things i put fem pronouns and stuff on changed i'm sorry if some of it is still wrong!! this is so embarassing help me...

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you and carl both had the same determination of getting rid of negan after the lineup happened. negan had killed two of your friends, two people who had saved you a numerous amount of times.

and negan had also mutilated your face. not on purpose, but you just so happened to be a little too close to abraham when he was being murdered, resulting in your cheek getting torn open.

but, of course, nobody was fond of the idea of two teenagers going out to kill some guy who's murdered hundreds of people himself.

so you'd have to make a plan that no one else would know of.

you met up late at night in carls room while everyone else was deep in sleep.

"so, how're we going to do this?" you had brought a notebook and pencil to his house in case you needed to write the plan down.

"the saviors are going to come to our place weekly, right? that includes going to hilltop." he draws down some sort of map on the paper, labeling things as he explains. "if we plan this right, we could head to the hilltop around the same time the moving trucks are there. we can sneak into the back of one of the vehicles."

you nod as he explains, biting your bottom lip nervously. "and what if we don't get there at the right time?"

"we can ask the people at hilltop when the last time the saviors came was. if it was a week ago, we can wait around. if it was recently, we plan for the future."

you nod again, this time more confidently. "alright."

"are you okay with this?" carl notices your uncomfortable and nervous appearance, putting a comforting hand on your knee. "if you want, i can go by myself-"

"no. i'm going with." you cut him off swiftly. "i'm not letting you do this by yourself. i want to help you."

"...alright." he smiles softly at you. "we're gonna do this together, then. like we always have."

...

its safe to say you didn't get much sleep that night, even sleeping with carl. you kept tossing and turning thinking of all the possible things that could happen.

and by the time carl went to wake you up, you were already up.

"y/n.." he softly spoke, tapping your shoulder before realizing your eyes are already open. "you're already awake?"

"mm.." you nodded before turning your body to face him properly. "i'm nervous."

he brings up a hand to move a strand of hair behind your ear. "i know. i am too. it'll be okay."

you lean your face into his palm while you put your hand over his. "when are we leaving?"

"soon. i already have our bags packed, we just have to get changed." he smiles down comfortingly at you.

you give him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and stretching, walking over to your wardrobe to grab some clothes.

"you sure you still want to do this?" carl questions, standing up shortly after to get ready.

"i'm sure. and even if i wasnt, i'm not gonna let you do this by yourself."

he shoots you a quick smile before grabbing his clothes and changing.

the two of you finished getting changed, and now it was just a matter of getting out of alexandria unnoticed. a couple people were out on runs to get stuff for negan, so you guys had a good chance of getting out no trouble.

carl held your hand as he guided you to the front gates, helping you up and down the gate to make sure you didn't fall.

you guys successfully got past the gate unnoticed, dropping down with a slight 'hmph' sound as your feet hit the ground.

there was a car right outside of alexandria. did you or carl really know how to drive?

no.

but, that didn't stop you guys. you knew the basics, and it was the fastest possible way to hilltop in time.

carl looked at you, then back at the car, walking over to it swiftly. you followed quickly behind him and stepped into the passengers seat.

he started up the car and started driving.

"i think this is how we're going to die." you joked, putting your seatbelt on and holding onto the grab handle.

carl laughs with a nod. "we'll be fine."

...

that went wrong, fast.

well, you guys did end up being fine. but apparently all of these years of carl seeing walkers, it was a shock to see one while he was driving a car.

did he run into it on purpose to try and impress you? or was it genuinely an accident?

"holy shit, carl!" you yelled, gripping harder than before on the grab handle and pulling your seatbelt tighter in fear as he slams onto the breaks.

"fuck, sorry. sorry." he spoke breathily, setting the car into park. "...sorry."

you let go of the handle and unbuckled yourself, letting out a deep sigh. "it's... it's fine. do you know where we are right now at least?"

"mhm. hilltop should be right over there." he points in the direction of hilltop as he unbuckles as well, stepping out of the car.

you gather your things out of the car and begin walking with carl following behind you.

the two of you were walking for a bit, your legs getting more and more tired and your guys' moods plummeted after losing the car. but suddenly, you hear carl call out.

"hey, y/n."

"what?" you turn around and tilt your head at him, walking closer to him to see what he's found.

two sets of rollerskates.

"oh, are you kidding?!" you exclaimed with a bright smile, kneeling down next to him. "i haven't been on rollerskates since, like, my 6th birthday!"

he pulls out both of the pairs, handing you one. "i hope this makes up for my shitty driving?"

"absolutely."

...

the rest of the journey to hilltop was honestly... fun.

you and carl were hand-in-hand on rollerskates, skating like you were deers on ice.

"woah, slow down! you're pulling me!" carl laughed, accidentally sliding in front of you.

"oh, come on. just go faster then!" you chuckled, moving him back to your side.

as he turns to face forward again, he stops. "we're here. i think the saviors are here too." he whispers, pointing at one of the trucks by the entrance.

you silently nod as he moves you guys behind a tree. you quickly take off your skates and set them into the grass before putting your regular shoes on.

"are you ready?" carl asks lowly, interlocking your fingers together.

"mhm." you look up at him nervously, your anxiety showing through your interlocked hand shaking.

"hey.." he brings up his free hand up to your cheek. "we're gonna be okay. nothing is going to happen to you, not while i'm with you."

you smile up at him, quickly glancing at his lips before looking back into his eyes. carl lets out a quick chuckle before kissing you lightly.

as he breaks away from the kiss, he smiles at you again. "let's go."

...

an hour had passed.

an entire hour of sitting in the back of a moving truck, staying as silent as possible as you held a pistol in your hand. you took deep breaths with your eyes closed and head leaning back onto the walls of the truck.

and you were quickly taken out of your daze at the feeling of the car breaking and the sound of the car parking.

you gave carl a surprised and nervous look before looking back toward the entrance of the back, noticing a man opening it up and looking at the loot.

carl quickly pointed his gun up, firing at the men. you followed after by standing up alongside him and pointing your not-so-intimidating pistol up, helping shoot more of the saviors away.

carl pushes a bit past you and points his gun. "stay back! drop your weapons."

you step forward to his side, pointing your pistol towards the saviors out of carls view.

"we only want negan." he continued, his gaze fixated all around the yard. "he killed my friends. no one else needs to die."

right after carl announced that, a familiar whistling was heard, catching both of your guys' attention instantly.

"damn." negan laughs, staring at the two of you with a smirk plastered along his face. "romeo and.. romeo? isn't that adorable." his gaze fixates onto carl, and he points at the giant gun in his hands that was aimed right towards him. "did you pick that gun 'cause it looks cool? you totally did, right?"

negan sets lucille in front of him, leaning onto her as he looks at both of you with a squint. "y'know, i'm gonna be honest, you kids scare the shit outta me."

just as you were about to open your mouth to say something to him, a man runs into carl to pin him down, which also in result pushed you over.

"carl!" you yelled, attempting to get up. but before you could, you saw a couple saviors pointing their guns toward you.

"back off!" negan yells, holding his hand up toward the cluster of saviors and dwight. "dwight. is that any way to treat our new guests?"

that sentence mad your heart drop. when you noticed the guns being set down, you got up and quickly moved over to help carl.

"are you okay?" you asked carl, practically in a whisper as you helped him up. he nods and readjusts his hat, glaring back up at negan, which you joined in on.

this only made negan grin wider.

"well, come on, kids! let me show you around."

...

negan had given you and carl the tour. it wasn't pretty.

he made the sanctuary seem like some amazing, beautiful place, but all you saw was misery.

carl raised an eyebrow at negan as you three entered a room that had a large bed and two chairs facing each other. "are all of those women actually your--"

"wives? yeah." negan cut off. "always wanted to screw a whole bunch of women. i mean, why settle for just one? a bit.. different in your case, but my point still stands." negan jokingly points a finger at you, which you responded in a silent death-stare. "why follow the same old rules? why not make life better?"

negan steps over to one of the chairs and sits, signaling for carl to come over. "speaking of.. sit."

carl instantly nods and walks over, leaving you standing by the doorframe. you look at negan confused.

"you can go sit on the bed." negan grins at you and points to the edge of the bed. you comply and sit down, looking at whats happening with negan and carls interaction. "now.. let's get started."

"started on what?" carl asks, crossing his arms and glaring up at negan.

"i want to get to know you a little better, carl. you and him."

"why?"

"work it out. you're smart." he glares almost mockingly back at carl as he speaks. "in fact, i'm gonna tell you just how smart you are, in case you don't already know."

negan continues going on his speech, looking at you and carl as he speaks. "see, i'd expect kids your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing, except crying about missing the prom. but you two? you go on a mission. you find me, kill four of my men together, and you're smart enough to know i'm not gonna let this slide."

as negan chuckles, you begin feeling your body shaking, memories of the lineup rolling back through your mind.

"ah, i can't.. i can't do it." negan speaks through his laughs. "it's like talking to a birthday present. you got to take that crap off your face. i wanna see what grandma got me."

you start to stand up to face negan properly. "he doesn't have to do shit-"

"four men!" he yells, standing up to look down at you. "four. men. you really want to piss me off, girl? 'cause i can make you take yours off, too. so i can see what lucille did to you when she was bashing your good friend abrahams head in-"

"fine." carl cuts negan off, his voice raised but slightly shaking. you look over at him with a saddened look, pressing your lip in between your teeth. carl sighs and begins taking the bandage off, and negan waves you away to go sit back down on the bed.

negan laughs ecstatically as he sits back down, watching carl take his bandage off. "almost there..."

carl sets the bandage down next to him, looking down at his hands.

"get that hair out of your face. let me see."

carl moves his hair behind his ear and faces negan, which only makes him laugh harder.

"christ! that is disgusting!" negan mocks, which makes you feel your stomach drop in anger and sympathy for carl. "no wonder you cover that up. have you seen it? i mean, have you looked in a mirror? that is gross as hell. i can see your socket." negan continues to laugh, but then he notices carl crying.

"carl.." you whisper. all you wanted right now was to go over there and help him, but you couldn't. you already pissed off negan, if you did something else who knows what he'd do to you or carl?

"...damn. look, i just.." negans voice softens into a more sympathetic tone, which surprised you. "it's easy to forget that you're.. just a kid."

carl looks away from negan and wipes away his tears, but without realizing, he turned away to face you instead. you saw his tears and his eye, which he always hid from you since the day it happened. his eyebrows raised when he realized who he was looking at, and he quickly turned back away.

"i didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. i.." he sighs. "i was just screwing around."

before anyone could say anything else, there was a knock at the door, which made you and carl flinch.

"come in."

a man came in holding lucille very carefully, looking nervous. he explained that negan had left lucille down by the trucks.

"seriously? i never do that." negan laughs, standing up to grab his bat. "i guess two teens firing at my men is a bit of a distraction."

the savior quickly leaves and just as he shuts the door, negan sits back down and continues. "all jokes aside, you look rad as hell. i wouldn't cover that shit up. and, i mean, apparently it's a hit with the ladies." he points to you with a smirk. "but i swear to you, no one is going to screw with you looking like that."

negans expression quickly changes to one of curiosity. "what do you like to do for fun? you like music?" carl squints his eyes at negan confused. "i want you to sing me a song."

"...what?" carl raises his eyebrow, his body language softening.

"yeah. you two mowed down four of my men, i want something in return for that. sing me a song."

carl blinks rapidly in thought, confused and slightly scared. "i.. i can't think of any-"

"bullshit!" negan yells, standing up with lucille in hand, leaning down to carl. "what'd your mom sing to you? what'd your dad play in the car? start singing."

"okay, okay." carl sighs, looking over at you for comfort. "...okay."

carl looks down at his lap, messing with his fingers. negan walks over to the bed with lucille, listening to carl singing.

"you make me happy when skies are grey-"

carl is quickly interrupted when negan swings his bat right onto the bed, right next to your side. you flinch, staring at the fresh rips on the mattress and then back at negan, eyes widened and your chest moving up and down from your rapid breaths.

"do not let me distract you, young man." negan glances at carl, then back at you. "and you, don't flinch."

how the fuck were you supposed to not flinch? your life was in danger, your mind racing to that night. this was basically how you got your cheek mutilated in the first place, too.

carl continued singing, and negan continued swinging near you. you tried your best not to flinch, but instead of flinching, you were crying and hyperventilating. your heart felt like it was pounding and your brain felt like it was exploding.

and after what felt like a million years, it was over.

"that's pretty good." negan said after his final swing, pulling up lucille and walking over to carl. "lucille loves being sung to. it's about the only thing she loves more than bashing in brains. weird, huh?"

you began spacing out, tears rolling down your silent face as you had horrific flashbacks to that night.

. flashback .

once negan had landed his bat right in front of abraham, your heart sank. he was sitting right besides you, and now you were forced to watch and experience his brutal death.

negan took his first swing right to the middle of abrahams skull.

"woo! takin' it like a champ." negan spoke, laughing at abraham as he sat there still, glaring into negans eyes.

"suck. my. nuts." abraham spoke his final words, which only uttered more laughs out of negan.

and negan took another swing, but this time, you flinched harder. and you got closer. and you felt a harsh pain shoot through the side of your face, and something crimson dripping down onto your lap. you brought your hand up with wide eyes, looking at the blood drenching your palms, then back up at everyone. your eyes wandered over to carl, who was staring at you with wide eyes as well.

he couldn't do anything, you couldn't do anything, and abraham was still being murdered at your side.

all you could do was cry, watching abraham while your vision was fogged up by your tears.

"..y/n?" carl shook you by your shoulders, getting you out of your daze.

right. you were still at the sanctuary.

"negan is trying to.. show us something." carl told you, nodding his head in the direction of negan, who was standing by the doorframe.

all you did was blankly nod, standing up from the bed.

"are we ready?" negan laughed, making a signal with his hands for the two of you to hurry up.

you quickly walked over to negan with carl by your side and negan began taking you to the railing, looking down at a man sitting down near a furnace with a crowd around him.

...

you barely remember what had happened for the rest of your time at sanctuary. you're sure you blocked most of it out.

you could vaguely remember negan showing you and carl a man getting the side of his face ironed off, and negan making you hold lucille as they did so.

and when you got back to alexandria with negan, carl had made you stay in his room until everything was over. you begged him to let you stay with him, that you were scared you were going to lose him, but he wouldn't budge. in the end, he locked you in his room.

"fuck, carl! please.." you cried trying to catch up with him.

"sorry. i love you." he said before closing the door.

you stayed laying in his bed, crying yourself to sleep.

you felt as if you were being dramatic. i mean, carl was facing more of the repercussions than you were. you were worried about him. his recklessness scared you, even if you were reckless yourself. he'd do anything for you, including spending the rest of the day with negan while you laid in bed despite everything negan had done that day and in general.

and the day passed. negan had left, and carl came back into his room.

you were still awake, back on the mattress as you stared at his ceiling. but as you heard the door open, you shot up. you quickly stepped off of the bed and ran over to him, hugging him tightly. your head was on his chest and one of your hands laid on the back of his head, the other around his neck. he quickly returned the hug.

"i'm sorry." he whispered into the crook of your neck.

you took your head off of his chest and up to look him in the eye, bringing your hands up to hold his face. "don't be sorry." you said with a half smile.

when you looked up to face him, he moved his face away. specifically, to the side where you couldn't see his eye.

"hey.." you readjusted your hand to move his face back to you. "don't look away."

"but, my eye-"

"what about it?" you laughed, pinching your eyebrows together.

"you haven't seen it since today. i, uh.. didn't think you'd want to see me like this."

"are you kidding?" you tilted your head, laying your arms to drape over his shoulders as you looked at him lovingly.

carl opens his mouth, as if he was about to say something to retort your comment, but before he could, you leaned in to kiss him. you brought one of your hands up again to hold his face as you leaned into the kiss. as you moved away, you smiled warmly at him.

"i love you.. to the moon and back." you laughed, tears in your eyes as you admired the boy in front of you.

carl laughed with you, hands on your waist as he smiled down at you. "i love you too." he brings up his hand to run his fingers through your hair as he speaks. "but.. how're you doing?"

"i'm.. i'm okay." you nodded reassuringly. "i'm better now that you're back here with me."

"are you, uh.. mad that the plan didn't work out?"

"it might not have worked out the way we wanted it to, but now we know the layout of the sanctuary and where it is." you reminded him. "it worked out, just differently. we'll figure all of this out again. together. right?"

carl nods, his smile returning to his face with a nod. "...yeah. together, like we always have."

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#🌙 — maxines fics #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes oneshot #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead oneshot #the walking dead x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for getting upset at my best friend for calling me a hoarder in passing?

My (29NB) best friend (also 29NB) have been going through major crises lately at the same time—we will call them Sun. So, yesterday, they sent me a text, when we weee talking about how they haven’t wanted to be over at my house for a while, mostly bc they don’t like my partner…although the subject was in discussion bc my partner and I are splitting up, and I will be living alone again in a couple months. At some point in this discussion, they mentioned the more pressing matter that’s caused them not to be over as much is that they are very allergic to one of my cats—but only the one I just adopted a couple years ago, they’ve had no allergy issues w the other one and they love her very much, she is their niece.

However, at one point, they mentioned that a few years ago, when I was using drugs a lot more irresponsibly than usual—to the point where I got injured from falling down the stairs—they had been speaking to my other close friends. Which is appreciated, and I knew about this already obviously since there was an intervention that happened around that time…the way they mentioned this was upsetting. Specifically, they mentioned that “they approached [other friend of mine] about my drug use bc they thought I was becoming a hoarder” and that MAJORLY triggered me—specifically the hoarder comment. The woman who gave birth to me/raised me is a hoarder, which is a well known fact to just about anyone who is close to me irl, especially anyone who’s known her irl, and ESPECIALLY Sun, who worked as her caregiver for quite a while. Also being compared to/told I am just like my abusive egg donor is the thing that will hurt me the most, bc she is the most cruel, manipulative, abusive people I’ve ever had in my life.

So the thing is, my house is indeed very messy…I have too much junk around, and it’s very difficult for me physically to keep anything clean. It’s actually one of the reasons I’m separating from my partner, and as ashamed as I am about it, I understand. However, it’s not a hoarding disorder at all—I don’t hold onto anything I don’t need out of sentimentality, and if I could wave a magic wand and simply get rid of all the extra shit I don’t need/make everything nice and clean, I would. Unfortunately, I am very disabled with too many chronic pain/fatigue conditions, and actually cleaning the house/sorting through shit to get rid of takes immense physical effort. But whenever someone offers to help me, I jump at those opportunities! I take things to be donated all the time (if I’m able to sort through the stuff that needs to go) and it’s entire worlds different than my egg donor refusing to give up several bins of my baby clothes bc she can’t bear to part with them, despite them never seeing use in her possession ever again.

So, I responded to Sun’s mention of a past conversation thinking I’m a hoarder, with offense and saying it hurt me. We had been discussing just downsizing and how we will be going through my stuff as we pack for the new place, and had mentioned that I should make sure to get rid of certain clothing things if they have holes/are worn out/whatever, which to me, sounded like they think I have a hard time throwing clothes away even if they’re not even wearable anymore. With that and the hoarding accusation in mind, I told them I was very hurt by this. I made sure to be respectful and kind yet assertive, but after explaining how this was an unfair assumption/description of me, they got upset and said I should’ve asked for clarification before coming at them.

Now, do me, I wouldn’t have even considered they meant anything other than how I interpreted it, so it would never have even occurred to me to ask for clarification if I’m not even aware there’s a miscommunication. Apparently, the reason they mentioned getting rid of clothes that have been too worn out is an issue they have themselves, but this isn’t anything I was ever aware of, and once again never would’ve thought was referring to anyone but me. They also say they’re aware that it’s my physical difficulties that make cleaning physically painful for me…but honestly, that’s not anywhere near the same as having a hoarding disorder, which is indeed what they’d accused me of.

Of course, I know the both of us overreacted—me, being offended about being accused of being a hoarder (especially since my immense difficulty cleaning the house is part of why I’m separating from my partner and is therefore something I’m incredibly sensitive about right now) and them, being offended that I took what they said wrong and being upset over some things they didn’t actually intend w what they said…but I’m just not sure if maybe I AM in the wrong here, for expressing being hurt by being called a hoarder here, or if I really am making the entire thing a big deal out of nothing.

So, AITA for voicing my offense at being called a hoarder?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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magicratfingers · 7 months

Note

hey! when you say you're doing konmari, what specifically *are* you doing? is it one of her books or a course or smth?? a lot of the struggles you've talked about working through with all of this are similar to ones I struggle with so I'm interested in giving something like that a shot!!

Hiiiii!!!! I’m followin her book The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up. The whole deal! I started it with just whatever info was free on the internet but actually bought the book a bit into the process. The daily posts were to be silly but it became pretty nice to look back & stay with it. So I admit maybe I didn’t really do the first step “envision the life you want” part very deeply actually what even are the rules

Rule 1 yeah ok I was pretty excited to start I had always wanted to try it I once met a woman at a party who said everything she owned could fit in one box and I thought that sounded so cool and I just really wanted to do something kinda “big” I was feelin pretty stuck pretty overwhelmed and also Marie calls it a “Tidying Festival” which is so goofy and sweet

Rule 2 ok I kinda didn’t do much work here it was more like “idk man who even am I let’s find out” I had done something similar for a “nutritional therapist” (kinda bullshit but I don’t regret it) once and found it difficult so I really just have uh a brain feeling of ease and playfulness I’m thinking of as a lazy Sunday energy

Rule 3 I do get a bit stuck here in that I don’t always know where I want to put my stuff so I find myself doing some surprise deep cleaning. But! This means I’ve cleaned a ton of areas without wanting to cry or barf and it feels weird to admit as a grown ass gender but it’s probably the first time I’ve felt actual pride

Rule 4 - this and 3 are probably the secret sauce for me. It’s a nice structure and it keeps the steps simple enough to not freak out but just challenging enough to wanna do it.

Rule 5 the order did sound a bit random (clothes, books, paper, Komono, sentimental items) but it rips. Clothes are so unavoidably functional and emotional that it really is the easiest. Books are surprisingly aspirational?? Very “I want to be the kind of person that wants to read this” and I had to figure out how to divorce potential from actual appreciation. I did books three times. Like. I can just go to a library such low stakes with discarding books. Paper I wanted to die but what a gift

Rule 6 being the thing that everyone knows. I really have been making myself TOUCH THE ITEM and genuinely thank it. It’s also the part people don’t do?? Which is wild!? It’s so helpful??? Thanking things dissolved all the anxiety and loss aversion or guilt. It was also really fun to pick up something that gives you the giddy and imagine what it could be like to feel that for everything in the house. I mean why not it’s achievable. Oh also people think it’s about minimalism (it’s not) and getting rid of stuff you need (no) or replacing everything with a fancier thing (definitely not)

Oh wow I wrote a lot hahaaa

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solarwonux · 1 year

Text

Business Proposal || knj (3/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 6.5k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

prev || next || m.list

a/n: Kind off a filler chapter, but also let the drama commence we are literally just getting started haha. Again, I’m going to be pretty busy for the next month so I don’t know when I’ll upload another part. But I hope you like this one and as always lmk your thoughts. Thank you.xx

The knot in your throat is hard to ignore as you put away your belongings in cardboard boxes. The tiny apartment that served as your home is looking more barren with the more things you take down and pack. Jungkook always made fun of you for giving meaning to silly things and getting attached to them. He calls you a hoarder and maybe he is correct about you hoarding shit you don’t ever need, but you call yourself a collector.

Why else would you have twenty different pots and pans in different colors. Plates and bowls in different shapes, sizes and designs. And you don’t even want to think about all the mugs you’ve accumulated over the years. Or the little trinkets that are carefully scattered all over your apartment with purpose. Or the tiny shelves with miscellaneous pictures of different moments in your life. Your clothes are a different story you haven’t even made a dent in the pile sitting on top of your bed, and you’ve already packed two full suitcases.

You’re grateful for Jungkook, and that he’s here just looking at you with judgment instead of voicing his negative opinions about you not being able to let go of shit. Though, he keeps reminding you that most of your things might be put in storage anyway. Namjoon is very particular and according to Jungkook nothing cute or with colors other than indigo, black, white and beige exist in his apartment.

“What about this?” Jungkook holds out a tiny black rabbit figurine in between his thumb and forefinger. You got it at a street market a few years ago because you believed it would bring you good luck. Though, you aren’t sure where that luck has gone because you certainly have none of it right now.

“I’m keeping it.” You hold out your hand and he places it, in the middle of your palm rolling his eyes.

“You’re going to have to get rid of something Bunny.” He says as his hands fall down by his sides in defeat. “My brother’s not going to let you keep any of this.” He signals to the many boxes you have already packed.

You shrug, folding up the last of your winter sweaters and placing them neatly in the box in front of you. “But I can still decorate my room how I want so I don’t care, plus I already got rid of some kitchenware.”

Jungkook sighs, “Yeah after I literally fought with you for an hour. And you still have so much of it, I don’t know how you expect Namjoon to agree to keeping an air fryer, a coffee machine, purple pans, that weird pot that kinda looks like a toy, and a hot pink blender. Don’t even get me started on the weird heart shaped bowls or that one plate that looks like cheese or the twenty five mugs you kept.” He lists with his fingers before running a hand through his hair. “I’m telling you he’s as minimalist as the word suggests.”

“Kookie, they're so cute I can’t get rid of them.” You argue, “plus they mean a lot to me.” You close the box in front of you and tape it shut. Last night you decided that all your winter stuff will be going into the storage unit in Namjoon’s apartment building. If what Jungkook says it’s true and that his brother literally has nothing. Then you can only assume so does his storage unit. Plus he’s already offered it to you.

“They’re ceramic.”

“So, I got them all for a different purpose in different moments of my life therefore they mean a lot to me.” You say sternly and stand up.

“Whatever you say.” He puts his hands up in defeat and turns around to the shelf he had been working on taking down. “Honestly now I’m kinda glad you are going to be living with Joon, seeing him irritated is amusing.”

You roll your eyes moving to the pile on your bed. Putting away your summer clothes is next on your to-do list.

“Why do you have so many clothes anyway?” Jungkook whispers from behind you, making you groan, throwing the pale yellow shirt you have picked up in his direction.

“Why are you being so annoying today?”

Jungkook slyly smiles. It only irritates you more. He may be a full year older than you but sometimes he could be more annoying than your actual younger brother. “You can’t answer a question with a question.” He bites back, picking up a skimpy baby blue lace cheekster. “You’re going to wear this in front of my brother?” He cringes holding it out as if it were the plague.

The embarrassment is evident on your face as you snatch it away and throw it somewhere behind you. “If you’re not going to be of help, get out.” You spit out, avoiding his eyes as he bends over in laughter.

You let out an annoyed sigh, picking up an oversized blue button down and folding it. “

“I’m just fucking with you Bunny. You can wear whatever you want in front of my brother. Just give me a heads up before I walk in on the two of you–you know.” He gestures inappropriately with his hand, earning a glare from you, which only makes him laugh again.

“No I do not know because whatever you’re insinuating will never happen.”

“That’s what you say now.” He accuses, squinting his eyes in suspicion.

You pick up a lavender blouse with white flowers on it and throw it in his direction. “Make yourself useful and start folding.”

Jungkook smiles widely, throwing your blouse over your shoulder. He reaches out and pinches your cheek. You swat his hand away forcefully. He winks at you before saying, “You make it so easy to fuck with you, Bunny.” He starts folding your shirt and adds, “I thought I taught you better, where’s your back bone?”

“Keep talking and I’ll show you how well I remember all those self defense moves you taught me years ago.”

The pizza arrived at exactly ten. The movers had arrived an hour earlier, taking your bed, lounge chair, desk, kitchen table, kitchenware and old decorations. Everything else you had like your clothes and small miscellaneous things were in boxes waiting to be loaded into Jungkook’s car. Your old couch was on the curb waiting to be picked up by the donation trucks.

Now, you and Jungkook were sitting in your living room–old living room–with a Hawaiian pizza and two large beers in between the two of you. Your brother and his wife left as soon as the movers did. So, it was just a lonely last dinner in your apartment with Jungkook.

“You can always just move in with me.” Jungkook speaks up taking a big swing from his beer can. “I have like three spare mattresses and Bam recently learned to not get up on the couch without permission.” He mapped out, picking up another slice of pizza.

You throw the pineapple slice you have picked off into the box. As much as you had fought the shaggy haired man against his decision even bringing up your pineapple allergy. You had lost the very intense game of rock, paper scissors twenty minutes earlier.

“No thank you. I’d rather not be subjected to your 4am drunk karaoke sessions. Or wake up to you moaning in the kitchen because of food you’ve made.” You shrug, biting into your pizza slice. “Plus you bring too many people home with you and I enjoy my sleep.”

“I don’t do that anymore.” He shrugs, throwing the crust of the pizza into the box and grabbing another slice. It’s blasphemous how he loves pineapple on pizza–no hate to pineapple on pizza lovers, if you didn’t have a deadly pineapple allergy you’re sure you would love it–but he hates the best part of a pizza. Which is by far the crust.

“Which part?” You tilt your head to the side.

“Bringing people home. I stopped doing that years ago, Bunny, keep up.” He rolls his eyes, biting into his pizza and groaning as if it’s the most delicious thing ever.

You cringe. “This is what I mean. Why do you make everything sound so sexual?”

He swallows, “Why do you take everything so sexual?” He fights back, raising a knowing eyebrow at you.

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“You can’t answer my question by repeating my statement from earlier.”

You shake your head, grabbing his abandoned crust. “I take back everything I just said. This is the real reason as to why I can’t live with you.” You bite into it, smiling in delight.

“Cause’ I’m irresistible.” He winks.

“No, because you’re so annoying. I will never see a moment of peace.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing another perfectly edible crust into the box and grabbing another slice. “But you love me, right Bunny?”

You shake your head, swallowing and taking a swing from your beer. “Sadly, I do.”

Jungkook smiles, throwing you a thumbs up and a cheeky wink. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

After a moment you look around your empty apartment, remembering how everything was perfectly laid out. The tiny frames of pictures of you, your family and your friends that used to decorate your walls. The abstract art piece that was hung on the wall behind your couch. Taehyung had gifted it to you after he disappeared for a few weeks in a crazy burst of inspiration. He said the bright colors reminded him of you, because somehow you always made him feel a little brighter no matter what.

You recall the little figurines that were placed on your useless tv unit because in the seven years that you lived in this apartment you never once bought a tv. They were miscellaneous things that were as useless as the unit but they meant a lot to you. Each one was handpicked by you for a purpose. The rabbit you had bought at a Lunar New Year market years ago. The ceramic watercolor-esque jewelry dish, you had found at a flea market. It was home to your crystals and not your actual jewelry, with the exception of your dad’s class ring that you had borrowed and never gave back.

Everything felt empty, even your fridge. It used to be decorated with magnets from places you had visited over the years. It had to-do lists and many sticky notes with affirmations written in ink splattered handwriting.

The night you first moved into the apartment it was hell. It was your first time living alone and every little sound sent a wave of panic through you. You had to call Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook to sleep over because you wholeheartedly believed someone would break in. Eventually things got simpler and you made your spaces yours. You never thought you’d grow attached to such a place, but you spent many nights dancing with just your string lights on. Singing at the top of your lungs. And crying because you missed your parents and brother. It was your home and even though your lease was up soon. It felt strange to not renew it again.

It almost felt like you were leaving a piece of yourself behind. A piece you never knew you had discovered until now.

“Bunny, don’t cry.” Jungkook coos beside you. The pizza is long forgotten, the box thrown haphazardly to the side as he brings you into his arms. “I know it’s hard but if we are being honest here you were outgrowing this place.”

You sniff, placing your head on top of his shoulder. “I would’ve made more room.”

Jungkook chuckles, carding his hand down your back, sending shivers up your spine. “You would’ve become a crazy hoarder. There was barely any space with all the shit you had.”

“That’s mean.” You shove him lightly. After a while of silence you speak up again. “This was my home Jungkook. I knew that I was eventually going to move out but I thought it would be because I was getting married.”

“You are getting married.” He deadpans, making you shove him even harder. He laughs.

“This doesn’t count, you know it’s not real.”

Jungkook waves you off, cradling his stomach as he bends over laughing, making you roll your eyes. “I was just trying to lighten up the mood. You know you’re always welcome at my place.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and brings you close again. “And I know things are rocky between you tweedle dee and tweedle dum. But Jimin and Taehyung will always have your back too.”

You sigh at the mention of Jimin’s name. It’s been two weeks since you last spoke to him and Taehyung. They have been ignoring your calls and texts. You’ve even thought about emailing them, but you’re well aware that neither of them have opened up their emails since college. You just hope that one day–soon–they’ll let you explain everything to them.

“I really hope so, Kookie.

Namjoon has been pacing in his living room since he woke up at four in the morning. He’s only had about four hours of sleep since he spent his entire afternoon and night clearing out his guest bedroom. It used to be his study, but he never once used it to do his work. The creaky old desk he got at a vintage shop a couple years ago was more of a showpiece. He had no issue parting ways with it. That was the easy part then came the bookshelf he once thought of using as a way to display his favorite artist books. But his research kept him occupied and he never once got around to it.

Parting ways with his books was something he never once thought he would have difficulty with. He made three piles; keep, maybe keep, give away. Everytime he put a book in the give away pile he would move it to the maybe pile and eventually the keep pile. It went on like this until midnight when he decided to abandon the task and go to sleep. He didn’t expect his thoughts to wake him up at four in the morning. They were racing like they had some sort of urgency. And now he was wide awake in his living room with the same three piles, one overflowing more than the others.

If he had more space in his book shelves in the living room he would have no problem, but those shelves were also ones he needed to sort out. Not to mention the huge stack of to be read books occupying the space between his couch and favorite chair.

He doesn’t know how he let things get so out of hand. Though, everything seemed like a mess in his brain. Especially at this time at night. He knows if anything changed about where things were placed he would have a mental breakdown trying to look for something.

It's how things worked in his brain. It’s also probably the reason why he was unable to sleep. Now, because of his wild idea to have you move in with him. He knows things will change around his house. Apart from his vast collection of art, books and his plants, everything else in his apartment lacked any soul and emotion. He used to love coming home when he first moved in years ago, but slowly the light started to get sucked out of his place.

Subconsciously he knows that’s why he asked you to move in with him in the first place. It wasn’t his mom visiting unexpectedly or that carpooling to work would save him gas and his carbon footprint. It was because he missed coming home to something that had life.

That’s something he will never get himself to admit. Not outloud and especially not to himself. And now you’re set to arrive in fifteen minutes. He still hasn’t finished sorting out his books or done a very good job at pushing away that agonizing thought or the excitement and nerves. He’s been keeping himself occupied for hours but all he has done is wonder.

What do you look like when you go to sleep?

What do you look like when you wake up?

Do you still sleep with numerous stuffed animals?

Will you secretly place your little trinkets around his home without him noticing?

Do you eat breakfast or just have coffee?

Will you like having him around?

They’ve been moving so fast that he can’t grasp onto one. The second he brushes one off another one comes to the surface and it’s driving him insane. Sure, he doesn’t feel anything for you. Not then and certainly not now, but he is looking forward to getting to know you better. What makes you laugh and what makes you tick? Are you a stay at home person on the weekend? Or do you go out with your friends to catch up? Do you bring work home like he does? Or do you leave it all in the office and relax for the rest of the evening?

Again, these are thoughts he will never let himself admit out loud, but he has them and he just hopes they go away the second you ring his doorbell.

As if on cue, the chime brings him out of his daze. He puts down the current book he was holding–The Secret History by Donna Tartt. It’s the book you gave him for his birthday back then. You had read it about five times before giving it to him saying he would “absolutely love it.” Since then he’s read it numerous times. The paperback is fading a little bit; he's tried to get rid of it for years but for some reason he can never seem to get himself to do so.

He puts it in the keep pile and stands up. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his black cotton shorts, as he makes his way to the front door. He’s already had five cups of coffee but suddenly he feels the fatigue wash over him as soon as he puts his hand on his doorknob.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and opens the door, revealing a very casual looking you. You’re wearing gray sweatpants, a black tank top with a white knitted cover up. Jungkook and his signature black on black outfit stands by your side.

This is the moment he realizes that a new chapter of his book is about to commence.

Whoever told Namjoon that living on the top floor of the highest building in the world–note exaggeration–should be held responsible for the back ache you’re surely going to be dealing with at night.

It’s taken about ten trips for you, Jungkook, Namjoon and the movers to get all of your stuff inside of Namjoon’s home. It also doesn’t help that the owner of the very bland looking home keeps barking orders to not scratch the floors and watch for the art hanging on his walls. Understandable, but he could at least be a bit nicer. After all it’s his fault you’re in this mess in the first place.

“How can someone have so much shit?” Namjoon seethes as he places your last box in his living room. It’s not even an organized mess anymore. It’s downright a mess and he is close to losing it.

Jungkook laughs, taking a well deserved break on his couch, feet on top of his black coffee table. “You should’ve seen all the shit she didn’t keep.” He says, stretching his arms up and overhead. “This isn’t even half of it. You should be thanking me for convincing her to give away all the shit she didn’t need or use and she still kept some of it.”

“Hey,” you give Jungkook a pointed stare. “Everything has its purpose, sooner or later I was going to use them.”

“You didn’t need fifty different mugs. You literally only ever used the same five. And you didn’t need all those little ceramic figurines that absolutely served no purpose.” Jungkook argues, crossing his arms in front of him. He hasn’t slept and he has you to thank because all you did during the night while you stayed at his house was pace back and forth and clean his already clean apartment.

He understands that you were nervous but you could’ve been a little quieter or you could’ve let him sleep. Instead, you woke him up to keep you company while you rambled on and on and on about how this was a horrible idea. But what was he supposed to say? Everything he wanted to tell you, he had already said. In order to avoid sounding like a broken record he just listened to you rant while moving in and out of consciousness.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring fifty mugs to my house.” Namjoon says, scrunching his eyebrows and putting his hands on his hips. You sit on the floor in front of a box labeled kitchen and open it up.

“No, just twenty five of them.”

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. This was already starting out on a bad note. He only has one mug for his coffee and it’s been very useful since he’s moved in. He forgets that even though he’s a minimalist in some ways. You’re a maximist. Your bedroom back home was proof enough.

Your desk was always filled with crap and numerous journals. Your walls had different kinds of posters and tiny strips of pictures you had taken with your friends on a night out in whatever photobooth you could find. He doesn’t want to even get into the stuffed animals or the twenty different pillows you kept on your bed when you only slept with one.

He supposes some things just never change.

“We don’t need twenty five different mugs, or–” He looks into the box he had set on the kitchen counter and sighs, “--six different pans.” He brings out a white and purple one and another one the same color just slightly bigger. Your colorful aura is already clashing with his monochrome one. He has no idea if they will mix well.

“Believe me, you say that now, but I can guarantee you that one day you’re going to be searching for a specific pan while cooking and you’re going to thank me for keeping these.” The words spill out of your mouth with confidence and he can’t help but roll his eyes. Out of spite he will do everything in his power to make sure that day never comes.

Jungkook stands up and claps his hands in front of him. “Alright idiots, I have a date in like two hours, so we either get your bed built Bunny or you sleep on this lovely couch.” He interrupts in pointing to Namjoon’s not so comfy looking couch.

You stand up, trying to keep your mouth from going agape, this was certainly a huge surprise. Jungkook simply didn’t date. “With who?” You walk to him with your hands on your hips. Namjoon and your mugs have been completely forgotten.

“With my bed.” He winks and you groan. You knew it was too good to be true. “Now, come on, I don't understand why you picked the most complicated bed frame to build. There are more screws than anything I’ve ever gotten from IKEA and as simple as they try to make the instructions it still takes me five hours to build one shelf.” He walks past you and into the hallway leading up to rooms.

“They are easy to understand, you're just an idiot.” Namjoon speaks up, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. This is how things were back then, clowning on Jungkook together. They were simple before feelings were involved, and you only wonder that if you kept your mouth shut would things still be that way.

Except you know that deep down they wouldn’t because neither of you would be in this situation. You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Whatever the answer to that is, you don’t want to find out, even more so now.

You ignore Namjoon’s comment and follow in Jungkook’s footsteps. The last thing you want is for him to break your beloved bedframe and you end up on Namjoon’s couch until you can afford to buy a new one. It’s this moment in particular that you miss Taehyung and Jimin the most. (Though, since falling out everything made you miss them.) It took them a full hour to assemble it together with minimal complaints. You know it would’ve taken them nothing to take it apart, but now you will never know.

Jungkook stayed true to his word and left one hour later than when he said he would. It took him and Namjoon fighting a couple of times for your bed frame to finally be complete. And during his final hour before he left on his date. He helped you move the rest of your furniture into the room, including your precious desk, armchair and the numerous boxes of clothes books and decorations you had packed.

During this time, Namjoon had barely spoken to you, except for the occasional “pass me the (insert name of tool,)” he directed towards you. Then he disappeared into the kitchen while you instructed Jungkook on where to place your belongings. Now, the filter was gone and you were left alone in a hollowed out house with its equally hollowed out owner.

You were keeping yourself occupied with hanging up your clothes when you heard a crash followed by a curse of pain coming from the kitchen. On instinct you ran out to find Namjoon holding his foot, mumbling profanities.

You swallow, placing your hands inside the pocket of your sweatpants. “Are you okay?”

Namjoon looks up, eyes full of water as he quickly releases his foot and clears his throat. “Umm, yeah, I just dropped one of your pots on my foot.” He brushes off, proceeding to pick up the pot Jungkook claims looks like a toy and places it on the counter. “I hope you don’t mind that I started to unpack the kitchen stuff. All the boxes were kind of driving me a little crazy.” He scratches the back of his neck, then points to the empty stack of boxes by the couch.

You shake your head. “Just show me where everything is so I don’t go crazy looking for shit tomorrow morning.” You say, walking towards the kitchen and stopping once you get to the other side of the counter.

He nods, and proceeds to move around. “Mugs and cups go here.” He opens the cabinet above the stove, showing you how neatly he arranged your colorful array of mugs by color and size. “The plates are here.” He moves over one cabinet and opens it, revealing three wooden racks full of your plates and his plates. “And I put the bowls up there. I know it's hard to reach but we can get a step stool or something.” He shrugs and then moves around the counter standing beside you. “You didn’t have a lot of utensils but the ones I found I put in here.” He opens up a drawer, and as expected everything was organized as neatly as possible in one of those kitchen drawer organizers. Forks, spoons, knives and chopsticks had their own compartment. You took note as you didn’t want to mess anything up.

If you were going to be living with him until further notice. Stepping on his toes and messing with his organization was something you didn’t intend on doing.

“I was just getting started on putting the pots and pans away, also I don’t know where to put your knife set since I already have one.” He says pointing to the box containing your pastel colored set of knives. Maybe you should’ve listened to Jungkook when he said you actually didn’t need them. They were just too cute to let go.

“That’s fine.” You wave your hand, discreetly taking two steps away from him. “Do you want any help?”

Namjoon pauses for a moment after he closes the drawer. He looks at the marble countertop in front of him in thought and then you. His gaze is hardened and unreadable. A look you’ve come to familiarize yourself with in the past few days that you’ve had to spend with him. It’s one he uses when the two of you are alone. You won’t lie, it annoys you a little.

“No, that’s okay. I was just going to put them in the cabinet next to the sink.” He speaks up before rounding the corner and standing in his original spot. You nod and take a step back.

“I guess I’ll be in my room unpacking. Don’t continue dropping things on your foot.” Your attempt at a joke goes ignored as he gives you a deadpan look before focusing his attention on the pot in front of him.

It’s strange how he hasn’t continued to complain about you having so much stuff. Or how he hasn’t declined anything you brought with you. He’s simply accepted it and is finding space for it. The complete opposite of what you imagined he would do. Once again he’s rendered you speechless and you have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’ll try not to.”

It’s around two in the morning when you finally leave your new room. Namjoon’s living room–well you suppose it is now your living room too–is vacant. You let out a sigh of relief. The only reason why you left your room in the first place was because your stomach was growling and you couldn’t sleep.

You aren’t sure if Namjoon is asleep or if he’s in his room avoiding you all together. Could he really be just as childish as you? You want to believe the answer to that question is a big fat yes. But then again that’s only because you want to make yourself feel like you're not the only coward now living in this house.

Still, he didn’t come seeking you after he briefly showed you around the kitchen. So, maybe you aren’t the only one who just doesn’t know what to say to the other person. How do you simply start a conversation without bringing up your past together?

There are so many things left unsaid. So many things that happened that night that have haunted you for years. So many things that broke down your character as everything unfolded right before your eyes. A part of you blames him for what ended up happening. Though, that’s only because it was easier to blame him than to blame yourself.

Even if your therapist and Jimin and Jungkook told you that nothing was your fault. It still felt like it was, especially because you only wanted to piss off Namjoon more than you already had. Maybe then he would finally have a reason to hate you, but again, he’s never really known what happened apart from your fight.

Nor, do you think you can tell him. In fear that he would look at you differently and put the blame on you. Just like you have done for years.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Namjoon’s voice sounds from behind you, making you jump. You turn around meeting his piercing eyes as he makes his way into his kitchen.

“Nope, it’s a new space so everything feels weird.” You shrug, taking a seat on one of the island stools. “And I’m hungry.” You add, thinking it will somehow help your already valid reason.

Namjoon nods before opening his fridge. “I ordered chicken earlier, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted some or wanted me to bother you, but I saved you some.” He takes out the box and places it on the counter, moving around expertly before taking out one of your pans. See you knew they would come in handy. “I’ll heat it up for you.” He places it on the stove and turns the dial to a medium heat.

Your eyes grow wide as you start to get up. “You don’t have to, I can do it myself.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to face you, for you to know he’s rolled his eyes at your comment. “I don’t, but it gives me something to do. I’m not tired.” He shrugs, hovering his hand over the middle of the pan, to check if it was hot. Once he deems it hot enough he reaches over and grabs the leftover box of the chicken, dumping the sweet and sour delights into the pan.

You choose not to reply to him and instead look around. There were only a few boxes left for you to unpack, most of them being miscellaneous decoration pieces you had collected over the years. You know that as much as Namjoon didn’t mind having your kitchen ware mingle with his. You knew he wasn’t going to let you mess around with his minimalist aesthetic. Maybe you would just have to slowly find space for them. But maybe it was best that you didn’t. A couple of days ago he made it pretty clear that you weren’t something permanent in his life. So, why pretend like you were?

“Mom wanted us to go to brunch tomorrow, but I told her no. I figured you wanted to finish settling down before work on Monday.” Namjoon speaks up over the sizzling sound of the chicken.

Your head snaps to face him. “You didn’t have to do that, I could’ve finished unpacking over the week.”

Namjoon looks over at you and shakes his head. Before you can snap at him for whatever reason he speaks up. “You told me to keep in mind that you are your own person and that I can’t keep making decisions for you, and when I consider how you may feel about living things unfinished you tell me that I could’ve done the opposite of what you asked.” He reaches over and turns off the knob and turns to face you. “I don’t understand you.”

The audacity he has to spring up a decision he made like it was for your betterment is impalpable. Somehow him being somewhat considerate and listening to you, but at the same time not listening to you makes you want to scream. Instead, you close your eyes, feeling your appetite run away from you. “Yet, you just did exactly that.”

Namjoon tilts his head in confusion, taking the pan off the stove and bringing it over to where you’re sitting. “How? I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I told her no because I knew you would be tired after a whole day of moving.” He places down a heat mat and puts the pan over it.

You shake your head in disbelief. “No, you decided for me. You didn’t tell me your mother invited us over for brunch and instead told her we couldn’t go because I was going to be too tired when you don’t even know that.” You eye him as he takes out a pair of chopsticks. He stops once the words you’ve said sink in and glares at you.

“I don’t know what you want me to do? I agreed to meet you in the middle, I even agreed to your ridiculous list of demands and when I do, you say that that’s not what you wanted.” He places the chopsticks in front of you and scoffs.

You cross your arms in front of you. “But you didn’t meet me in the middle. Meeting me in the middle would be telling me that your mom invited us over and then hearing what I had to say about it. But instead you decided for me, you’re still not understanding.”

Namjoon groans, running a frustrated hand through his already messy bedhead. “Then please spell it out for me because I’m trying but you always have to fucking complicate things.”

“I’m not the one complicating things here. It’s simple, you only have to tell me things and then I’ll decide what I want or don’t want.”

Namjoon signs leaning his forearms on his marble counter, his arm veins popping out as he grips edge trying to regulate his anger. “This is exactly why?”

“Why what?” You push yourself off the chair, leaving your untouched chicken as you push in the stool.

“Why I would never marry you. You look too much into things and when someone calls you out on it you blame them. You’re just too difficult to deal with.” He says through clenched teeth.

You dig your nails into the palms of your hand. He has the nerve to throw one of your biggest insecurities back at you. It’s the reason why all of your past serious relationships have ended. Apart from the fact that they’ve always gotten bored and found someone new. It’s also the reason why your childhood best friends aren’t talking to you. You’re too much to deal with. So, why are you here in the first place?

“Then why did you come up with this whole elaborate plan?” Your voice is just above a whisper as you angrily keep yourself as composed as possible.

Namjoon pushes himself off the counter and stalks over to you. “I already told you because it’s not permanent. Trust me if my father had more time you wouldn’t be standing here.” He spits out and stops in front of you. “You’re not someone worthy of spending a life with.”

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat as you blink back tears. This shouldn’t be affecting you as much as it is. Especially because it’s something he’s hinted at since he first proposed the plan to you. But for some reason it does, especially his last comment. He knows that one of your biggest dreams is to get married and start a family. He also knows that all your previous partners have left you for the same reason. And he also knows that it will hurt you if he keeps repeating it. Almost as if he believes that you don’t understand how serious he is about keeping you as a temporary placement in his life.

Back then you would’ve yelled and cried. Yet, that girl was broken down and replaced as quickly as it took him to leave you and all the memories you shared together behind. So, you stand your ground, burning holes into his dragon like eyes and say, “Trust me when I say that you’re the person I hate the most in this world. That I might be difficult but you’re impossible. Your head is so big that you can’t see that the reason why you can’t seem to keep anyone around is because you push them away thinking you’re better than everyone else. It’s the reason why you might keep the money from your dad’s will but also the reason why you will end up alone.”

When you finish you can tell he’s taken your words to heart, that much you know from the fire burning behind his perfect brown eyes. Instead of responding he does the one thing you never expected him to do.

He kisses you.

a/n: lol I’m sorry.

#kdiarynet #btshoneyhive #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts namjoon #bts x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader

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jplupineislost · 3 months

Text

This....sucks.

So I've briefly mentioned some of this stuff before but given my current circumstances, I think some transparency might be needed. I could potentially be homeless soon and I'm at the end of my rope.

Under the cut will be how I ended up in this position with some potentially triggering topics [harassment, assault, abuse] Links to help me keep my home are at the very end if you want to skip the triggering parts.

Around two years ago, I was living in an apartment with my mother through government assisted housing. Between the both of us, our combined incomes were far beneath the poverty line even for a one person household. We're both disabled, so our methods of getting income are limited. The apartment became a health hazard to my mother because of neighbors stealing packages that contained medical supplies and upstairs neighbors nearly constantly smoking cigarettes and weed with the smoke coming down to our apartment through the connected vents.

The smoke was so strong that it stuck to our clothes and doctors would run secret drug tests because they thought we were lying about not doing drugs. We both have asthma, but mine is not as severe whereas Ma also has COPD and was having to do daily breathing treatments due to the smoke. We did everything we could to get it to stop including contacting management to see if they could talk to the neighbors about smoking outside instead of inside; we were essentially told we either had to just deal with it or move. This is on top of the same neighbors causing several floods from their apartment into ours. Given our financial situation, there was nowhere we could go.

Ma's health started getting worse from the smoke to the point that her doctor's told us that we needed to move or she could be put in a home. So with no money to live anywhere else, it was looking as if Ma would be taken away and I would be left homeless.

Our situation was taken advantage of by someone Ma thought she could trust. An old friend she had known and lost contact with but found again years later had agreed to help us move by all three of us getting a house and splitting the bills based on income. It seemed like the perfect solution; space, no more smoke, and the ability to install disability aids- the apartments had not allowed us to make the apartment accessible, which led to several injuries over the time we lived there. I had managed to save income tax + stimulus money that was just enough for a home inspection and other necessary expenses, so I covered those with the agreement that Ma's friend would pay me back for his part. He never did.

We managed to get a house- one that turned out to not even be up to code but it was too late to back out now, which put me into dept with loans to fix. There are still many repairs needing to be done, but those have no choice but to wait.

Moving in, MF said the place he lived prior had bedbugs but he had treated his things already so not to worry about it. He lied. The back bedroom got an infestation we had no money to get rid of, leaving us to resort to cheap sprays that did very little. It also became quickly apparent that MF was incredibly irresponsible with money; he would spend hundreds of dollars on unnecessary expenses from video game loot to luxury items. He frequently was late on bills that usually fell to me to pay off with whatever savings I had, so anytime I had a savings, it would be gone shortly after so that things like utilities would not be cut off.

Conflict and arguments became common over various things. MF was barely less than a stranger to me, but I tried to be polite and get to know him. The more I talked to him, the more I became uncomfortable. He was a sexist pig who laughed about beating one of his exes.

And now we were stuck living with him. MF is also disabled and took advantage of that as well. He was manipulative and would put up the image of 'poor disabled white man' to get out of trouble who knows how many times at this point. Ma secretly got into contact with some of his past partners and people who lived with him, and they had pretty consistent stories; he made their lives Hell. He called them all crazy and jealous, but given the fact that he was also making our lives Hell, it was clear he was a liar. Every time he got caught lying and called out on it, he tried to gaslight us.

MF escalated his behavior knowing we had nowhere else to go and no money to do so. He tried pushing boundaries with me, getting too close when I was bent over and had my hands preoccupied or when I wore certain clothes. I would immediately tell him to not get that close to me and he would react negatively with anger and trying to make it out as if I was overreacting.

My mother is not as confident in enforcing boundaries as I am. She wanted to 'keep the peace' but was being abused when I wasn't in the room. I didn't find out until much later when she ended up physically injured with bruised ribs. This was also when her doctors found out how dangerous our living situation was.

Then Ma had major surgery for health related reasons. She was in and out of the ICU for over a week recovering, and the entire time, MF was going to the hospital and telling the doctors/nurses all sorts of lies from being Ma's boyfriend to husband, took me off her emergency contact, and refused to tell me what was happening to her. MF would up and leave without warning, and because of my work and other factors, I could not go see Ma while he was there. One day I told MF that we would go see Ma together so that I could actually get to see her in recovery.

The next morning when we were supposed to go, he left early by himself without saying a word. I had to take my little brother to work 'cause he didn't have a car and had to prioritize that so my brother wouldn't lose pay or his job. When I got to the hospital afterward, I had a suspicion and went to the front desk to ask where Ma was before I went anywhere. Found out then that MF had also lied about what room Ma was in. When I get there, a nurse was checking on Ma and asks who I am. I tell him, and he turns to MF and asks "Is this the one you said wasn't coming?" I was seething. Ended up having a breakdown shortly after because I finally learned what all was happening with Ma.

Ma's doctors and social workers, after several months, were able to find a way to get MF out of the house. He was given the options of leaving and owing only $500 a month in mortgage or being taken away by police. He didn't leave until the day before he would be forcibly removed. He stole several items of ours while leaving junk and spare furniture behind. Him leaving behind furniture was not out of kindness, but another way to lie and play the victim to people who didn't know what was happening. 'They kicked me out and stole my things' is the gist of what he told others so they would pity him and give him money/luxury items.

Since he was only obligated to pay $500 in mortgage, Ma and I had to figure out how to pay the bills he had been covering while living there. We managed it, but we could not cover that $500 with our incomes. MF did not pay that $500 and hasn't in over a year. We've been scrambling month after month to cover it. I got a better job and still can't cover it. We tried to seek legal action to hold MF to his contractual obligation of the $500....he put himself into a temporary hold at a mental clinic to be deemed 'incompetent' at the time. He's hopped around places to not be found, all the while threatening us and trying to sell the house while we're still living here.

He told us that he only has to wait it out until we have no choice left but to sell the house and he'll get his cut due to being a partial 'buyer'. Several times he even showed up without warning, coming into the fenced yard, digging through our trash, and getting into the shed. He only stopped as far as we know when threatened with the police.

For the past year, we've been struggling to cover his $500 and facing potential homelessness every month. We've been managing by the skin of our teeth, but it's looking as if our options are running out. Then with him trying to sell the house from under us, he may be able to succeed if we can't pay the mortgage, which will get him even more money than what he's already stolen from us. We're working on taking him off the mortgage, but that is taking time we may not have. We also can't legally get a roommate due to our state laws.

So I'm asking for help. If y'all could commission me, get stickers/magnets/etc. from my Redbubble shop, or donate through my Ko-fi, that would be greatly appreciated. Even just reblogging could help. I'm doing whatever I can to not lose my home.

Comm Info | Ko-fi | Shop | Adopts

#vent? sorta #help needed #emergency commissions #cheap commissions #art commissions #please boost #anything helps

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do-i-look-like-a-doctor · 6 months

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Gojo headcanons bc ive got too much time on my hands

bro ate chalk as a kid and ive got proof

look at his kid self for a sec, he’s got a grown out buzzcut and the blue eyed stare. thats a chalk eater

you can’t convince me he’s a good swimmer

he’s lanky and tall, bro gets swept away the min he is near the ocean. he’s built to be shark food, sorry luv

the cloth he wears to cover his eyes is raggedy as hell

let me explain. he wears it constantly both in and out of battle, he wears it in any weather, and let’s be real he’s so odd that he probs sleeps in it sometimes

this leads me to believe that even tho he almost never gets hurt during a fight the blood and grime gets all up in the cloth

no amount of Tide or even acid could get rid of the STENCH that mask holds

it smells like ten cans of bounce that ass. one whiff could, quite literally, kill an old man

he’s a chronic podcast listener

tried to become one of those skater kids, failed miserably. geto never let him live it down

i think he’d make a great partner but if you listen to Hozier he will cause a scene

basically what im saying is he’s jealous of Hozier

Gojo knows that no matter how strong he is he will NEVER compare to that man’s vocals/lyrics and what they do to you

que Gojo trying to sing your fav Hozier song(s) but he can’t match the pitch which sends you into cardiac arrest

other than that he’s a pretty good singer, could probs serenade you to sleep

you know how everyone has an irrational fear? yuh his is birds

you ever see him interact with one in a normal way?

you see a bird, he sees a sack of organs with hollow bones that sore through the sky and sometimes they can talk

he pisses his pants when he sees a macaw

he’s a rich bitch and it’s a problem. not cuz he’s an ass abt it but bc he spoils the hell out of the teens

we know he would buy Megumi anything in the world but Yuuji and Nobara get the same treatment

he saw Yuuji’s orphaned ass and immediately transferred HUNDREDS to Yuuji’s bank acc

ain’t no student of his gonna be broke, that’s for sure

probs carries around pics of Megumi from when the teen was a kid

some are cute such as Megumi at the beach or having a fun at the zoo. others are of Megumi fighting for his life

i feel that when Yuuji entered the equation he also started taking pics of him during cute, fun, or important moments

very much sentimental older brother energy

whenever Gojo gets sick or injured he either becomes a massive baby or denies it until he’s dead

depends on the problem tbh. if he’s got a head cold he needs to be hospitalized but if he got his legs cut off he’d ignore it for weeks

you know how most men’s body wash or shampoo is named in, what’s considered, “masculine scents”

like redwood, campfire smoke, whiskey, fucking piss water

yuh he’s not a fan

i don’t think he’d really like those scents. in his mind, why does smelling like burnt coal or salt = masculine?

he probs just grabs whatever he likes, maybe orange scented stuff or even subtle vanilla

whatever cologne he wears tho is fucking delicious. you smell it and immediately your knees give out

i think if you gave him a huff of old spice tho he’d just disintegrate

im thinking of his general hygiene now, he has a solid routine

it’s not a million steps, probs just good quality face wash, serums, and moisturizer

that being said he suffered horrific back acne as a kid. dont ask how I know this, i will eat you alive

he looks and acts flawless but we know the truth. he sucks at card games

Yuuji’s biggest flex is he beat Gojo at go-fish 28 times in a row

he says calabunga and not a single person can stand it

that’s it for now, i’ll probs add more headcanons later

thanks for coming to my ted talk, i hope this post finds you before Sukuna does

(this is all mildly unedited, soz for mistakes)

#jjk #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #Gojo #jjk gojo #satorugojo

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horselessheadperson · 1 year

Text

LITANY AGAINST FAST FASHION: A SHORT GUIDE

2 disclaimers:

I'm not an expert, these are just my ideas. The more you can add on or correct the better, please reblog

The first responsibility in fixing these issues (there are many, it's not a single problem with a single solution) lies with the people making the big money off of this. If you feel like you already have a system for making clothing and textiles work for *you* and you don't feel up to changing anything, that's absolutely fine and you should feel good about yourself for finding something that works.

Having said that, here's the main problem as I see it:

DUE TO FAST FASHION, WE'VE ALREADY PRODUCED ENOUGH TEXTILE/GARMENTS TO LAST US FOR GENERATIONS

The term "fast fashion" really comes from the rapid circulation of collections high street brands go through. H&M famously advertises they have "something new every time you visit", you can always find new pyjamas at Primark, Pull & Bear prints new shitty tshirts every day. Obviously, not all of those clothes actually sell well and then continue to get worn until they are absolutely beyond repair. Most of those garments end up in landfills. Even the stuff that sells usually doesn't survive past a couple uses and gets thrown out.

=> What can I do in the face of this?

Cherish every bit of textile you have. Even dishcloths. Remember even though sewing machines exist every label, hem, and embroidery is hand-crafted onto your bit of fabric. Was it under $50? Then it's likely someone suffered to bring this to you. This is obviously not your fault and this is not meant to inspire personal guilt, but it might inform the way you handle fabrics. Wash something instead of throwing it out whenever you can and follow the instructions on the label. Choose the right kind of fabric for your needs so you don't have to continuously get new stuff.

Learn how to repair and/or alter stuff. This is a big one HOWEVER I feel like this advice is often thrown around without mentioning that a lot of clothing these days isn't made to be repaired. Some socks are so thin and flimsy they won't take to darning and some shoes aren't meant to be cobbled. Most hems don't have enough spare fabric to lengthen a pair of trousers these days. Once you learn about these techniques though you'll be able to more or less tell which is which before buying. I feel confident in my repairing abilities now so I only buy clothing that's sturdy enough to take a few repairs. Again, if that's above price range, don't feel bad.

BUY SECONDHAND. This is the single best piece of advice anyone can give to avoid the fast fashion trap. Always look for a secondhand option - charity shops, bespoke vintage stores, refurbished design, heck, even ebay. Buy something that has already been through circulation and don't add to the demand for new products. The way quality has declined over the last ten years, this also means you'll likely get much higher quality.

Learn to make your own stuff. This is basically a last resort as it's costly and takes a lot of effort and resources. If you're at all interested in fashion though, it's very much worth it to at least look into one or two fabric arts to pick up on the side. You'll have full control over the materials, cut, size, and finish of the garments you make yourself. If nothing else doing this will help you appreciate how much a piece of fabric or a garment is really worth in terms of labour and expertise.

Wear a piece of clothing until you can't repair it any longer. Then, turn it into rags or use it as scrap material for small projects if you do any crafts. After that, donate or re-sell what you can. No, not everything that's donated gets sold, but it's still the most responsible way to get rid of textile products you don't need anymore.

Buying more expensive garments isn't always better. I've had €500 shoes that went bust after two wears and I've had cheap tshirts that lasted for years. When you need a longer lasting item, say, a coat or a pair of boots - do some research, check second hand options, and stay critical. Don't buy based on brand. A good example is Doc Martens, whose boots have famously more or less gone to shit the past 5 or so years.

Remember, fashion is both a verb and a noun. Enjoy!

#fashion #fast fashion #clothing #textile art #textile industry #textiles #sewing

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java-dragon · 10 months

Text

Covers Bookbinding for beginners by a beginner- The Home Stretch

*drinks half a gallon of coffee*

COVERS!

You've gotten your typeset done for the fic, you've battled the demon that is your printer, folded pages, stitched pages, glued pages, glued end pages, and end bands. Made the cover, covered the cover in potentially homemade book cloth.

Now it's time to design a cover.

It's time to make this thing into a fully functioning book and slide it on your shelf and have a nice bout of "Laying on the Floor while Questioning the Human Condition (TM)".

There are a few options.

It depends on what you want.

I can only take you so far with Cricut/vinyl applications. But I researched enough to maybe, MAYBE give you the run down on at least how to get your cover from Canva to the software to cut out your vinyl. I'll start there since this is what I know the least.

Open up your version of Canva.

Make a document, I've seen some fanbinders make all this in the cricut software but I can only smile and nod along. But for me- this is the best I've figured:

go to the search bar and type in book cover (or use the drop down menu) click on a random template.

Fiddle and fart your way into a design you like. Text and Font Options are available in drop down menus and find some designs that are "Easy to Weed" which I understand as "Getting rid of all the stuff that's not going on the cover".

For Example:

Do you like it? It took me 40 seconds, I'm very proud of it. But this isn't to impress you really I just need to show you how to save your file so you can make the leap from one software application to the next.

Hit "Share", Hit "Download", File Type- Hit the down arrow, Hit "PNG" I missed this for the first few times--- BUT!

Click the "Transparent Background"

If you're doing more than one colour Vinyl you're going to duplicate the page that is located right next to the lock icon above the document. Hit that. Delete the stuff that you want to be different colours. Otherwise it will just cut everything out as one colour and I've seen some vinyl covers that get damn fancy.

You can also build a title cover just measure the spine and height of your spine and rotate your text to horizontal if you please.

Now for how I do mine. I use Printable Iron On Vinyl. Keynote there is a difference, there is stuff for light fabrics, and stuff for dark. Choose for what your primary book cloth will be but the paper itself will be white.

Make your design.

I have 3 different covers for Celestial Navigation by Sabrecmc just because of how LARGE the fic itself is. I had to split the text block up for ease of handling.

I saved as a PNG, and loaded up my fancy printable vinyl into my printer and went through the software for printing, I had to do some fiddling but for my purposes I had to get the whole cover in the right size on the page- it took some fiddling yours might be simpler it might be more complex. But once I got it printed I trimmed off the white and was left with a peel-able rather velvety feeling thing.

Remove the backing. Get the iron on and go low and slow with the provided barrier material to prevent melting and damage to the print you've just done.

I made spines as well and made an 11 x 8.5 (Or brochure template)

And lined up my spines accordingly as to not waste materials. There will be grids that pop up automatically to let you know if things line up.

Print them out on the "highest quality" out put for your photo software.

It peels like a sticker. It may take a bit to get it going.

Line it up as nicely as you can on the cover (double check on the still exposed board).

There is a protective sheet that comes with it USE IT. Set your iron to a low heat and move it around frequently.

If you're in a relatively humid area (I live in a coastal town so the humidity is pretty high all year). Have a heavy book to squish your covers down with to try and get out any bends that may happen post ironing (also why we want low and slow).

Leave to cool.

Now you have a text block and a cover.

For all intents and purposes for my demonstration I'm leaving the spine off and am redoing everything with this fic from the ground up. There are aspects and mistakes that I have made that have irked my brain. So I will be leaving the spines off for this round. This is the learning curve and since a lot have things have clicked into place since beginning this series that have given me the "AH HA! CLARITY!" moment. I have completely reworked EVERYTHING in my text block of Celestial Navigation. Plus I've a perfectionist issue that is a lot milder than what it was.

But these two text blocks will work as my "Ground Zero" and will be the books I compare all potential future binds too.

As a note that I said in the beginning of this endeavor:

THIS IS FOR PERSONAL USE ONLY. FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK DO NOT SELL WORK THAT DOES NOT BELONG TO YOU!!!! YOU HAVE ASKED PERMISSION (I dearly hope) TO DO THIS DO NOT BREAK TRUST WITH THE AUTHOR.

IF You want to offer a copy to the author- GO FOR IT. Close friend that is showing interest in the fic?? Sure ok.

But if you sell it for monetary gain? I hope you stub your toe, and just before it finally heals you stub your toe again and may all your breakfast cereal turn to slugs.

DO NOT BE A DICK. I am writing this whole 'How To' Series as an experiment of Good Faith that you, the potential binder, will do right by the community and not compound an issue that has been cropping up. Etsy sellers, and this horrible Facebook community that will steal other's typesets, and begin selling them.

Like I said- this is a breech in Fair Use.

Now with that lecture, again, out of the way lets settle the rest of this series.

You will need:

Glue

Book Press

glue brush

Wax Paper.

Your Cover.

Your Text block.

Get your textblock and cover lined up with some wax paper in the middle of the decorative pages (if you're doing them other wise the page you glue down to the cover and the rest of the text block.

Fiddle, fart and dry fit until you are satisfied.

Lay down a layer of glue on the page NOT THE COVER ITSELF.

DON'T BE ME. I FUCKED UP HARDCORE AND DID THE COVER WITH THE GLUE. HOOOOO NELLY LET ME TELL YOU HOW BADLY THAT FUCKED SHIT UP.

HOW BAD WAS IT? BAD. VERY BAD. DON'T BE LIKE ME THAT FIRST ROUND, BE LIKE ME ON THE SECOND ROUND AND PUT GLUE ON THE END PAGE.

Line up the textblock for a final time and then apply the paper to the cover open the textblock and smooth what you just glued down. Flip over and repeat.

Then add weight to the text block put it back in your press, or if you're like me and have a reprint in the press just throw books atop the block.

Allow glue to cure over night.

Shiver, shudder, and lay on the floor. Your fic is now a book that you can put on your shelf.

Welcome to the wild wild world of bookbinding.

I've been your host trying their best to explain all the things.

I will likely continue this series with "OK SO I LEARNED SOME SHIT ALL THAT SHIT I WROTE BEFORE FEEL FREE TO LISTEN BUT I'VE GOT BETTER SOLUTIONS NOW" time stuff.

#bookbinding #ficbinding #diy #bookbinding for beginners by a beginner #oh my god I'm done for now #I've done it #I wrote out all of the things #and i likely have to go back and FIX some shit cause.... whooooooooooo I learned a LOOOOOOOOOT #mistakes are great learning tools don't get me wrong but hoooooo I learned a lot

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shieldofiron · 1 year

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Billy Hargrove’s Haunted Bong

For Harringrove Week March 29, Happy Billyday! Also on AO3 Here.

Specific Dialogue: “You don’t know what you put me through.”

NSFT-ish, just at the end.

Steve feels a little awkward picking through Billy Hargrove’s stuff. His dad’s gone, and now Max and her Mom are moving, they need to get rid of the excess, he knows that. There’s some of Billy’s dad’s stuff here, too, though a lot of it has been picked over by the neighborhood moms, trying to get shoes for their husbands and stuff.

There’s less of a market for teenage boy stuff, though Tommy has a few button downs slung over his arm, and apparently Max unloaded a bunch of Billy’s tapes on ‘The Freak’ Eddie Munson.

Steve is really here more as a favor to Max. He doesn’t know what he would do with a Scorpions t-shirt, or a stack of books. Who knew that Billy read so much, anyway?

Max walks over and crosses her arms, “Hey. Want you to see something.”

He shrugs, tossing the paperback he was never going to buy back in a pile, “Ok.”

Max leads him up the stairs and into the half packed house and into a mostly empty room. There’s a bed that’s been stripped, and a small cardboard box, open and half full on it. Steve catches a glimpse of a few tapes inside, and a handful of clothes. Maybe it’s stuff they’re saving.

Max holds up two cans of Aquanet, “Do you want these? I’ll give them to you for a dime.”

Steve fights to keep his face neutral, “Uh, not my brand. But thanks.”

“How about this?” She holds up a bottle of cologne, Paco Rabanne.

He shrugs, “Sure. How much?” This is probably fine, a non-weird thing to get, anyway.

“Uh... a quarter?” She says distractedly while he glances down to dig in his pocket for change. “And what about this?”

He looks up and almost chokes on his spit. It is without a doubt the biggest bong he’s seen in person.

“Put that down!” He says.

She scowls, “What’s your problem?”

“N-nothing. Didn’t Eddie want that?” Steve really would feel better if she put it down. Maybe stepped away from it too.

“He took the other one,” She shrugs, “Why? What’s wrong with it? It’s just a vase.”

Right. Just a vase.

He snatches it from her hands, just wanting to get it out of the house, “How much?”

“Uh... a dollar. No! Two dollars!” She cries.

He rolls his eyes, because this thing is probably expensive as shit, but he just wants it out of her house.

“Sure,” He pulls a couple of bucks out of his wallet, “I’ll see you, okay?”

She nods, counting the money, “You want your change?”

“No, nope, just gonna head right home,” And smash this thing to pieces, he thinks.

He hops in the beemer, throwing his vase across the passenger’s seat along with the cologne. It really is enormous, blue swirling glass that would be kind of pretty if it wasn’t dirty with old bong water and stuff.

“Never let it be said I never did anything for you, Hargrove,” He grumbles, eyes searching the road wildly.

He turns the corner off Cherry Lane, shaking his head.

“I mean, whatever. I didn’t like... jump in front of a monster. Though I did. For Max, I mean,” He tightens his hands on the wheel, “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

He glances down at the bong and the cologne.

He shakes his head, “You would think I was high already.”

The bong glints in the afternoon sunlight, reflecting the blue skies out the window and the slowly turning leaves.

“You know my birthday is tomorrow,” Steve says, to no one. “I guess I could have one smoke. Just to see what I’m missing.”

The sunlight glints, and it’s almost like a wink.

He’s going crazy, that’s the only explanation for why he heads home and takes the bong into his house instead of throwing it away. He dumps the old water in the sink, trying to take it apart so he can rinse it out. He might actually catch some kind of disease smoking out of this thing, considering Billy died in July and it’s halfway through January.

He shakes his head at himself, dunking the bong into the water and rubbing the side, trying to take off the film of hairspray and weed smoke that’s formed a crust along the sides. Probably he won’t smoke from it. It’s a lost cause.

The bong trembles in his hands and he rears back into the kitchen island, soapy water splashing everywhere. Blue smoke comes from the top, pale denim blue that swirls in the air and shifts and then...

Billy fucking Hargrove is sitting on the edge of his kitchen sink.

He looks much the same as he always did, shirtless, tanned and perfect with a necklace glinting from his chest. Winking in the sunlight.

“Harrington,” He says with a smile.

“H-holy shit.” Maybe Steve is high. How did he get this high and he doesn’t even remember smoking?

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Billy’s eyes sparkle, electric blue. Were they always that blue, glowingly blue? They look like Kyle McLaughlin’s eyes in that freaky movie Dustin dragged Steve to a few weeks ago.

“This is not happening,” Steve shakes his head, “This isn’t happening.”

Billy laughs, full and open, and then the blue smoke is back, smelling like Paco Rabanne and cigarettes and Aquanet, swirling through the air.

“What do you wish for, Pretty Boy?” Billy’s voice sounds like it’s coming from right in Steve’s ear, but when he looks, the Billy on his counter is just smiling mischievously.

“Uhhh...”

Billy disappears and the smoke surrounds Steve. He clings to the countertop, the only thing that feels solid. Smoke slides along his face and arms, like a caress.

“Make a wish,” Billy’s voice beacons, “Birthday Boy.”

“I-if I blow hard enough, will you disappear?” Steve mumbles, not sure what kind of weird dream this is.

“If you blow?” Billy whispers, his tongue sliding along his lower lip teasingly.

“What are you?”

“You’ve never heard of a genie? Djinn is more accurate,” Billy’s voice is behind him now, along the back of Steve’s neck, sending goosebumps down his spine. Billy hums and it takes Steve a few moments before he picks out the theme to I Dream of Jeannie. “Should I call you, Master?”

“It’s not real,” Steve half laughs, “You died. I saw you die.”

“Where did the body go, Harrington? Disappeared... like smoke...” Billy appears in front of him, sudden and solid, “Poof.”

“You’re not a genie, though,” Steve shakes his head, “They aren’t real.”

“Try me, Harrington,” Billy smiles, eyes blazing.

“Uh...” Steve blinks at Billy’s face, so very close. He’s had dreams like this. Billy Hargrove, close and within reach, kind and laughing and oh so kissable.

“Go on,” Billy’s chin juts forward, and its so much like Steve’s dreams, he gives in. Maybe it is a dream. A weird one, but one of his regular dreams.

“Is it a three wishes kind of deal?” He asks.

Billy shrugs, “Dunno. I came to in a van full of shouting Russians who shoved green liquid down my throat. And then smoke poured out of my mouth, my ears, my eyes, and I turned into... this. Tried to go home, get Max’s attention. But then I got sucked into that thing when I got too close.”

Steve stares at him, at his lips actually. Is it nighttime already, or is it just the smoke swirling around?

“S.S. Butterscotch,” He mumbles.

“What?”

“I want a scoop of Scoops Ahoy S. S. Butterscotch,” Steve chokes, “Haven’t had it since the mall... uh...”

Billy puts a hand behind his back and winks at Steve, sending an electric bolt of lust down his spine.

“Your wish is my command,” Billy pulls his hand out and there’s a waffle cone stacked with a single scoop of S. S. Butterscotch, as smooth and round as if Steve had done it himself.

Billy raises it up to Steve’s lips, his eyes going dark and cloudy blue when Steve licks along the top. A shiver runs down his spine from the top of his head, making his knees weak.

“Oh, Harrington. You don’t know what you put me through,” Billy smiles, “Never thought I’d see you again. Never.”

Steve blinks, his mouth swirling with the flavor he’s been craving since Starcourt.

Steve finally manages to dig his claws out of the counter and reaches out, knocking the cone to the side. Well, it’s his dream. He might as well get to do what he wants.

Billy Hargrove tastes like woodsmoke and butterscotch and he groans into Steve’s mouth like he’s real, like he’s oh so human again.

Blue smoke trails up Steve’s spine like a featherlight touch, and he trembles, falling forward, hands digging into Billy’s hair. He’s always dreamed about boys and girls, he’s always had a lot of sex dreams, but they never felt like this.

Billy’s chest is warm, though there’s no heartbeat. But his tongue is wet and wicked and alive, and tendrils of smoke are curling against Steve’s overheated skin while Billy’s fingers dig into his hips. Holy shit.

Steve groans when Billy begins to slowly drag his hands to the placket of Steve’s jeans, teasing along the buttons. His tongue is teasing the inside of Steve’s lips, turning all of his thoughts to liquid lust.

Then Billy disappears into smoke and laughter, and invisible hands trail along Steve’s cock, under his jeans... through his jeans...

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, hips working. “Don’t stop.”

“Feel good?” Billy’s voice is somewhere on the ceiling.

“Fuck, yes, B-Billy... fuck...”

“Wanna make you feel so good,” Billy says softly, his voice crackling like a flame, “Wanna make you cream your jeans.”

Steve is embarrassingly close to that already, “R-Revenge?”

“For all the times you turned me on in class? No. But good guess,” Billy practically purrs when a smoky finger flicks the head of Steve’s cock and Steve cries out.

Steve gasps, “T-then...”

“Haven’t touched anyone in six months,” Billy laughs, and it echoes off all the polished surfaces of the Harrington’s pristine kitchen. “And you’re so touchable.”

Steve closes his eyes before they roll back in his head and makes an inarticulate noise, “Fuck, Billy... I’m... I’m... g-gonna...”

Billy’s corporeal in a moment, hand pressed over the invisible fingers, pressing Steve’s cock hard into his stomach, a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Come on, Pretty Boy. Get there.”

Steve’s orgasm bursts through him like a wildfire, and he screams into Billy’s shoulder, pressing his mouth against flexing muscle in a vain attempt to silence himself. Blood roars in his ears and he passes out into Billy’s waiting arms. He half expects to go right through them, but they catch him, sure and steady.

When he wakes up, his eyes are blurry and his body is blissed out, floating like it hasn’t since Starcourt. He sits up in his bed and looks around the room but there’s no one there.

Oh shit. It really was a dream. He bites down the bitterness and looks down at the bed beside him.

It’s the bong, gleaming and blue, glass colors swirled together like smoke. The morning light glints off the edge. Like a wink.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” The voice rumbles through the room and Steve closes his eyes. Wishes he was dreaming.

#harringrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #Djinn! Billy Hargrove #Supernatural Au #Harringroveweek #billysbirthdaybonanza #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #lemon

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