#I need to know this for very important things

[2698rr]

onesies and baby food

| 1.6k words | x female reader | fluff |

basically, Jason finds a baby and takes care of it with reader (his girlfriend)

you’d never spoke of having children, never. there was a sort of underlying knowing there that it wasn’t on the table.

for many factors. childhood trauma leaving a dent, jason’s late night activities or well—the fact you lived in Gotham.

so children weren’t a keen interest, something you both were hungry to have.

ironic since you fucked like bunnies in heat, but that’s not too important. no, what was important was the fact there was a baby sitting in your living room.

jason looked guilty, his lip was jutted out as he chewed on the inside of it, his eyes were both straying far away and latching onto yours to see your reaction.

and you’re not too pleased.

“Jason..” you breathed out, not wanting to argue with him—and not wanting to wake the small child. as much as you weren’t thrilled to have kids, you were very aware of just how softly he held the child.

how those hands, the ones he often believed held a sense of sin with them, the ones he believes are only good for hurt, cradled a small, vulnerable thing ever so kindly.

it tugged in your heart a little, left a kiss mark that burned. you had to snuff it out, at least for now.

“look.. baby.” he said, rising to his feet as he shifted the baby to rest comfortably, you had to force your eyes away due to it. “It’s just temporary, until i can find her auntie” he said, voice almost a quiver, a plead.

you were reluctant, staring at him. but as horribly as he saw himself, as horrible as he deems he is, he was a good man. caring and soft in the ways he has to hide.

he means good, he’s always meant good. and it’s not like you were heartless, you weren’t going to throw the child away, make it fend for itself, it’s a baby for Christ’s sake.

you didn’t say anything, just nodded.

a week is what it took to gather everything, from a crib to a stroller. enough diapers and food, clothes. (which you couldn’t kid, had been quite enjoyable)

Jason was thriving, if it wasn’t for the fact the two of you knew you weren’t the right candidates for children, you’d suspect this came naturally.

he was perfect with the baby. awake at any single peep, washing, bathing, cleaning, cooking. he was there for it all.

you’d grown quite fond and used to the child aswell, falling asleep with her on your chest, swaddling her late at night as the two of you awaited jason.

it was becoming a new normal that you two honestly (however quite quietly) enjoyed.

the sound of the television could be heard, you were focusing on gathering all the dirty clothes around the house. (that had doubled since the baby had joined) when you heard a quiet cry.

it wasn’t a cry that left you worried however—lord knows how long it took to distinguish that— instead it was a cry of curiosity.

your feet padded into the carpeted floor as you swiftly made your way to the small child. eyes darting over to where she laid in her crib.

her hands grasped at her, inching for something you could not yet see. however the closer you came you could make out the figure of jason.

her murmurs grew quite loud, giggling and babbling at jason, or more so—red hood. who was now looking at you, busy unsheathing his gloves.

“Was going to try and come in quietly” he mumbled, tone drowsy with needed sleep and weary from whatever attacks his body had endured.

The baby continued to mumble and mutter as her hands grasped rather aggressively, or as aggressively as a newborn can. “‘ts alright..” you replied.

slowly moving over closer to jason who was quick to rest his hands on your waist, his body instinctively curling itself in to you.

Your fingers moved and curled underneath the helmet he wore, the distinctive hiss of it coming off padded against the walls.

however the laugh that followed form neither of you and rather the small child in the crib is what made it a rather tender moment.

it was hearty, one that used all of the baby’s tiny lung capacity to push out, causing her face to turn beet red as she giggled and stared up at jason ever so adoringly.

your laugh followed out next which had the frown lines in his face to disperse and to rather crack his own smile at it all.

over the last few weeks since the small thing had joined, a quiet sort of family was settling in. and with every day that a response isn’t heard from her auntie is another day you silently plead she never responds.

You feel horrible for it, of course you do. the child belongs with her blood, her family. but is family only blood?

you’d grown to learn all sorts of things about the baby, how she disney like the potato and mash baby food and rather prefers the peas and carrot’s one.

how certain tops of baby bottles are her favrioute, what socks irritate her skin, what cry’s call for what and even the warmth of her body on top of your heart.

and jason well, he’d never verbalise his own feelings. but the more you know jason the more you can see jason, in his eyes or his facial expressions or even the simple way he carries himself.

with that fact, it was clear as day that he’d be as torn as you once the baby goes. after all he now often works with the baby sitting on his lap or his foot rocking the baby seat you had gotten.

he has many notes from weeks of focusing on what’s good for the baby (which had caused him to freak out one night for letting the baby try an almond)

it was safe to say that quietly, ever so slowly, had you become a sort of family. despite that, you didn’t have a name for her.

she was nearing two months old and had spent nearly a month with you and yet there was no name.

turns out the mother never named it and the two of you were reluctant to give her a name, after all how could you ever pull her away from yourselves if you named her yourself.

Jason was quiet for a few moments, just flicking his eyes between his two girls, something he’d noticed he’s been thinking to himself often.

he couldn’t deny that often his thoughts swayed to what it would be like if you two were to keep her, or if you two were to ever have your own child.

he’d never thought of it before, he never wanted it. to pass down the ‘todd’ name felt like a curse in his eyes, his blood was posion and he wanted to refrain from passing it on.

not to mention the what if’s, what if something like joker happened again, what if he never makes it home.

he didn’t want that, he didn’t want the endless possibility’s of negativity to ever happen.

however when the lights are dim and the scent of you and jason mixed into the bedsheets engulf him, when he tilts his head and sees you, face relaxed and content with a small shuffling baby, he reconsiders.

He doesn’t notice that you’ve picked her up, he doesn’t notice that your hand is rubbing soothing circles into the side of his arm while the baby’s head rests over your heart, he doesn’t notice until your soft voice murmurs “have a shower, then come to bed.”

so he does, he moves to the bathroom while you heat up some baby formula for her. you change her into a onesie with (ironically) bats on it, and position the two of you into bed.

jason’s quick with the shower, obviously ready to rest and go to sleep. his body slides in and is quick to press against yours, one hand moving to rub your arm softly while the other patters soft motions into the baby’s back.

you’re both silent, both laying there. blankets heaped up like fluffy marshmallows, the lingering scent of a candle from hours ago sticks and both of your breaths mingle.

“Shyla..” jason’s quick to turn his head as your voice speaks out, he raises an eyebrow in confusion but says no more. “Her name.. it should be shyla”

your body shuffles closer to his as you press your nose into the head of her hair, its neither your nor jason’s colour yet it suits her beautifully, you take in the smell of a baby and your body relaxes ever so more.

he makes a huff like noise, not out of anger or discomfort, rather just acknowledgment. “why’s that” he mumbles out, his fingers continuing to move as he rests the side of his head on yours.

your voice rumbles into his skull and he sighs. “Well, it’s a more modern sheila.. don’t you think?” and jason’s quick to snap his head up.

his mothers name, not exactly but the intent is there, after all you’d been with jason long enough for him to finally be comfortable enough to even mention (let alone speak) about his upbringing.

however, he doesn’t hate it.

in-fact, a part of him fawns at it. heart warms at not only the way you think of him, of connecting him. but at the fact you remember those parts.

“Yeah..” he mumbled and you relaxed. it went quiet again for a few moments, the baby moving and shuffling as she often did, your hand moving to rest ontop of his while the two of your eyes remained closed.

“I don’t want to give her back” you admitted and jason let a snort out. “neither”

somewhere along the line the three of you had fallen asleep, jason waking up at one point to put shyla into her crib, only to lazily slink back into the warm sheets.

all that could be hoped was she could stay.

—

hope you enjoyed! i kinda whipped this up quick cause i wanted to do some fluff, its kinda shit i won’t lie, it’s unedited and done on my notes app mwhaha

my board for more works!

ao3; 2698RR

[calebsdog]

One of the things I love most about Caleb is how much reciprocation matters to him.

During their childhood Caleb kept his feelings a secret because he was sure Mc didn't love him the way he loves her. He was prepared to keep his love a secret from Mc forever. Quietly supporting her financially and emotionally as she achieves her dreams.

During his limited myth Caleb is very aware of the fact that he was the only positive figure Mc has in her life. He was the one who helped her escape, gave her the first real food she's tasted, was the first to make her smile, and more.

Even though Caleb could have taken full advantage of being the only person Mc trusts— of course he doesn't. That's the complete opposite of who he is. He tells Mc that she should be able to see the world without being stuck at his side. He hates the idea of Mc being trapped and never wants to hurt her in that same way. He encourages Mc to live on and find happiness without him if that's what she needs.

Even in the present day when Caleb is starting to open up about his feelings and begin to work towards the relationship he wants he always has a way of getting a green light from Mc first.

During his exclusive aftertaste card Mc hears him moving around in the middle of the night. Caleb was unable to sleep while thinking about her. But Mc only knows Caleb was awake because she couldn't sleep either. They're haunting each other's thoughts even when they're only a few rooms apart.

In another card Caleb says he's not afraid of death. But he's afraid of Mc letting him in, finally giving their relationship a chance, only for her to end up regretting it. Picture that. Caleb is more afraid of hurting you than dying.

Caleb saying "I held myself back day after day" was never meant to be malicious. He wasn't physically restraining himself from pouncing on you or trying to push you to return his feelings. He was holding himself back emotionally. He was wearing a mask because he was terrified of scaring you with the depth of his love.

He only wants to push your relationship further if you want it too. He'll bite back his love for Mc for the rest of his life, never pursuing anyone else romantically, if she can't accept his heart. In fact, he'll think he's selfish for having those feelings in the first place.

I wish more people realized how important reciprocation was to him. If Mc didn't let Caleb back into her life he would've stayed away for good. They've only gotten this far because Mc kept letting him in. Because, of course, she loves him too.

Caleb is just so 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.

[thegreenlynx]

My Best Friend's a Pervert - H.JS

Description: Your best friend Jisung is your rock, he's tough and he supports you through everything. He's the most important person in your life and the one you are most comfortable with. He's also a huge pervert, but as always you overlook everything.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Content Warnings: Grinding/humping, perversion, dub-con(sorta), Fem Reader with Female anatomy

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: First full Smut posted on this account, based on this poll I did a few days ago. As always likes comments & re-blogs are very appreciated.

The two of you have been best friends for years. He's your rock, your strong pillar that holds you up when things get hard. You spend so much of your time together that everyone thinks you're dating. He's always there to take care of you, he spoils you rotten and when he's around you never need to worry about anything.

He's normally so collected, so stable. He is in control, he has everything under control. He keeps the staring to a minimum. He doesn't push you, he stays within the boundaries he ought to as a friend. He allows you to cuddle with him and goof off the way you always do, never letting the darker parts of him take over when you do. He never takes advantage of your comfort with him. But today he just can't be that man.

The day started off rough. The whole week he's been overworked, his family won't stop hounding him about getting a girlfriend and visiting for an upcoming holiday he doesn't care about. And probably worst of all, you've begun coming over to his place and stealing his clothes when you hang out. You say it's more comfortable, he loses a little part of his self control to the wind every time.

It also doesn't help that just last night his stupid roommate Minho decided to tell you that you look hot in Jisung's clothes. You blushed so sweetly at the compliment but Jisung knows his hyung wasn't flirting with you. Not genuinely anyway, he was flirting with you on Jisung's behalf. Riling him up. Teasing him.

He's a cruel man.

Which brings Jisung to the current moment. He closes the door behind you as you enter the house, he kicks off his shoes as he watches you send a casual wave to Minho who leans lazily against the counter. The dark haired man smirks and ushers you over with a single finger and Jisung only narrows his eyes with clenching fists when you prance over to him with light steps and let him feed you a cookie. Minho treats you like you're his cat. 

The sight is adorable really, the older man laughs with sparkling eyes and ruffles your hair and you giggle at him and step on his foot. On purpose he figures. Minho retaliates with a tickle attack that has your beautiful laughter echoing through the room. Melodic, cheerful, utterly carefree. It should make him happy to see the two of you getting along, normally it would too. He's not even a jealous guy. But today it just pisses him off.

He rolls his eyes and comes over to grab your wrist and drag you off. You let him but turn around slightly as you're pulled off. Minho laughs again, the playful glint in his eye never leaving, and feeds you one more cookie before patting you softly on the rear in an odd but comfortable silent goodbye.

When you enter the room Jisung runs his other hand through his hair and sighs. You let go and give him space, moving to his closet and digging around for one of his white over sized t-shirts. When you find it you smile giddily and throw it over his desk chair, peeling off your attire as you turn away from your best friend.

It shouldn't even phase him anymore. You're so comfortable with him he might as well be your brother. The thought disgusts him. He tries not to watch you undress to your pretty red lace panties, but finds himself admiring the way you pull his t-shirt over your head and hug it to yourself as you walk towards the bed.

He walks up behind you mostly in a daze, his head is empty of everything but you. The shirt barely covers your ass as you crawl onto the bed in front of him. He stands behind you watching your ass sway in your panties while you crawl. Intrusive thoughts seem to take over in that moment and he lands a rather harsh slap against the right cheek, unconsciously smiling to himself as he hears the loud clap followed by a small sweet yelp.

He wouldn't even be mad if you turned around and slapped his perverted ass right in the face. However instead of putting him in his place like you probably should have, you simply giggle softly and roll over on your back with your knees bent smiling up at him innocently.

Despite him knowing full well this is normal for you, that you mean nothing by it other than being comfortable around him and that it's probably entirely a platonic thing, It makes for a very lewd sight as you lay directly in front of him enticingly.

He knows how wrong it is to be thinking of his friend this way, he knows very well you are definitely NOT thinking any dirty thoughts during your hang outs with him, and it makes him feel like a criminal. He is definitely breaking at least 20 friend codes with the way he's gazing at your body right now.

Your legs are spread and the shirt has risen up, exposing all too much of your pretty curves and the delicate lace fabric that compliments your body so well. Your back is slightly arched off the mattress, displaying so clearly the prominent indent of your waist and the soft voluptuous curves of your hips and thighs.

He wants to touch you so bad he considers he may actually need therapy. Your arms are lying defensively down on the mattress, and he knows you probably wouldn't fight him if he did decide to touch you. The way that turns him on makes him feel disgusting.

He does give in slightly, only enough to where he knows you'll be too oblivious to take it any way but platonically, after-all you've always been a cuddly pair. You don't have to know what he's actually thinking in his head, nor the way it goes straight to his dick, you don't need to know how foggy you make his head feel.

He climbs slowly on top of you, your legs on either side of his as his face hovers above yours. His hands instinctively slide up your legs and to your waist, he squeezes the skin there and relishes in the soft feeling in his hands and the way your back arches slightly further off the bed while you unconsciously spread your legs a bit further with a small gasp. You're sensitive, it makes him smile as his thoughts stray even farther into the depths of hell and insanity, he really hates himself.

He'd probably feel a lot less disgusting if you weren't so innocent with things like this, the difference between your innocence and his makes him feel like he's taking advantage of you, perhaps also your friendship as a whole. Of course he doesn't only see you sexually, you're still one of his best friends. He still loves you like he never thought he could another person.

But you don't know this, you don't feel the same, it feels wrong. He feels like a sinner in church when he's alone with you. While you think of this as a cute little cuddle sesh with your bestie, he's desperately trying not to imagine digging his nails into your hips and slamming you further into the mattress or perhaps kissing you breathless while he lifts your shirt up and gropes you like a madman. He feels himself harden to an extent of borderline agony in his sweats at the thought.

He IS disgusting, knows this, and wishes he had more control over his thoughts and feelings than he currently does.

You're still looking up at him with a silly smile on your face, clearly entirely oblivious to everything as always. He relaxes (or tries to anyway), resting both hands on either side of your hips while he lays his head down on your chest. He takes comfort in the large plush swells he feels through the fabric. He feels a headache coming on at the lack of bra when he feels a nipple against the side of his face. The world just fucking hates him today. He can't even help the longing (read: desperate and pathetic) sigh that falls from his lips.

Of course you take it as he's just tired or stressed and not that he is trying really hard not to thrust his boner against your thigh in desperation like some kind of dog. He's so ashamed he genuinely wants to cry and has to bite back what he knows would be a rather pathetic and entirely humiliating whimper. However despite this (or maybe in spite of this, really) your gentle fingers lace through his hair, petting him so softly it would make anyone feel like they're precious.

He does take comfort in it. He loves having his hair played with, it makes him feel safe. He just wishes he didn't also think about how it'd feel to have you tugging at his hair in this exact position but a far different context. He hates the way he throbs in his pants, hates how pathetic he is and how much it hurts. He hates even more that he also kinda likes how it hurts, how you've got him so desperately wrapped around your finger, how you somehow manage to edge him without even being aware of it. Masochistic tendencies are not below him, apparently.

You giggle again, bringing your other hand up to rub his back. "Rough day?" Your voice drips of affection and honey and he almost melts, almost.

Instead he groans and huffs an irritated "hmph." His voice comes out raspy and deeper than usual, likely from the strain in his pants. He slides his hands back up to your waist and grips you harshly while turning his head to bury his face in between your breasts, shaking his head between them. His hair tumbles around on his head as he does it and you giggle again.

From your perspective it probably looked like an adorable gesture but from his it was anything but. He wants to rip your shirt off. He's so painfully hard and frustrated by the fact that he can't do all the things he wants to do. He wishes he could actually feel the skin of your breasts.

Their size is all too tempting and based off the parts of her body he has felt, he knows they would be incredibly soft and squishy. So impossibly smooth he is not sure he would be able to let go of them, perhaps it's good that you have him in the friend zone and he can't actually do that. Which is why he takes what he can get and nuzzles against them through the fabric like a kitten might, eyes glossing over even further with unrelenting lust.

You hum and seemingly in retaliation for the harsh grip still on your waist, you remove your hand from his head and tickle his side much like Minho had to you not even half an hour prior.

He supposes it's a fair punishment really. His grip is so hard he knows it's going to bruise, he will never admit that he really hopes it does, that even in a platonic sense he can mark you. Not only that but there's also no way it doesn't hurt by now. He has a tendency to grab you like this, usually unconsciously, but he's normally not this rough with it.

And well, he's incredibly ticklish. Like unbearably so. In fact he's so ticklish his immediate response to your tickling is to remove his hands from your waist and grab both of yours. He breathes heavily as he slams them above your head on the mattress, his face is now directly in front of yours and his glare is strong as he gazes into your eyes. In truth he loves the sight, and even as he glares at you he takes in the lovely view and commits it to memory. Jack-off fuel for at least a month.

You play around like this very often, Jisung has never once been genuinely angry with you nor does he typically react the way he just did. His mind is clouded with arousal and the ache in his pants in combination with the desperation he feels has genuinely ticked him off even further than his general frustration from earlier somehow.

You still don't react much other than a small gasp and the briefest moment of shock in your eyes before it shifts to simply gazing sympathetically back at his heated glare. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were that stressed out."

He feels even more annoyed with you apologizing when he's so very obviously the problem here. You make no move to get him to release you either and he hates and loves how you always let him do what he wants with you. Never being weirded out with it and always accepting him as he is, all his flaws included.

He goes to say it isn't your fault, grip not loosening in the slightest but the glare softens as he furrows his brows. "Y/n no... I-"

However, he's interrupted by the door swinging open all too casually. You both look over to see Minho standing in the doorway in complete horror. "Oh.. oh my god. Oh my god no. Shit. I'm sorry!" His face is bright red trailing all the way from his neck to the tips of his ears as he covers his eyes and swiftly turns around, slamming the door behind him. 

Jisung feels his own blush creep up his face. Even if you aren't actually doing anything this position and your prominent lack of dress is bound to give off a heavily sexual impression, he knows this well. And that in combination with the fact that he has been sporting the most raging hard boner of his life this entire time is so humiliating he thinks he actually will cry this time. His own lingering frustrations and the fact that he still has to fight the urge to grind his hips against you don't help either, and he feels even more pathetic with how easily his eyes well up with tears.

His lip trembles slightly as he goes to pull away from you, face beet red and eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Mm so sorry.. h-he definitely thinks w-we're.." He sniffles and hangs his head as he goes to move completely off the bed. You are faster and immediately stop him however, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him back into yourself. Your thighs are flush against him and the softness brings him a small sense of relief in combination with even more arousal and he can't hold back the whimper this time. Both emotional and horny, he is so overwhelmed he can't think straight.

You guide his head back into your chest and he all too eagerly wiggles his face back between your breasts with a whine and what almost sounds like a sob. He realizes he is actually full on crying now, tears soaking through the fabric of the thin t-shirt you're wearing. He is embarrassed of course, but simply can't help but let it all out when your magic hands find their way back into his hair.

You massage his scalp with a calculated care that forms goosebumps all along his neck and arms. His chest swells, his stomach tickles with an absurd amount of butterflies, and his dick twitches again in his sweats all at once. He feels a little less pathetic at the more relieved and now muffled whimper he lets out this time.

"It's okay Sungie.. I'm not upset, I can explain it to him later if you want me to." He whimpers and sobs sadly in response, gripping tightly back onto your waist as a way to ground himself enough to speak.

Even so, his mouth and brain refuse to cooperate with him and he only mumbles incoherently. "B-but I.. he.. mm.... I-I don't.." You tug lightly at his hair, not hard enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. He wishes he was prepared enough to stop the loud whine that rumbles all the way through his body.

"Shh.. Relax bub, we can talk about it later, it's not a big deal." You run a hand up and down his spine while the other continues massaging his scalp. Jisung shifts uncomfortably and slides his hands down your sides, subtly memorizing the curvature of your body. He grabs your thighs, sliding you up the bed so he can properly lay on top of you. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he nuzzles further into your chest. The shirt is so soaked with tears that in certain places on your chest it has become see through, he nudges the plush of one breast with his nose with a sniffle and watches in awe as it jiggles at even the smallest movement. He whines and thrusts his aching cock against the mattress below you, overwhelmed by how much he wants to suck on your skin. Like a drug that might fix all his troubles and cure him of his frustrations.

You still don't seem to notice his behavior is anything but sweet and friendly, laughing softly at how cute he is. Completely unaware that even with all of this he is STILL so thoroughly mind fucked with arousal, mind swarming with nasty thoughts and daydreams. This ignorance encourages him to venture a bit further, testing the boundaries of what you will enable him to do to you. Too overwhelmed, turned on, humiliated, and turned on by being humiliated to think rationally enough to stop himself.

He groans. It's loud and very obviously sexual, even if your naive self will never pick up on it. It's deep from the bottom of his throat and it comes out more of a growl than anything. He's never heard himself make such a noise before in his life. One hand still on your thigh he slides the other hand up slowly, seductively slow. If it wasn't incredibly obvious before it should have been now but alas, you don't pick up on a thing even as his hand slides up to your hip. It slows to a brief stop, sliding a thumb under the strap of your panties as the other fingers wrap around your hip.

He's no longer actively crying but still sensitive and in a very whiny mood, if you pull away he will break down again and he knows this. His eyes are once again glossed over with arousal even with his face drenched in tears and he wets his bottom lip before subtly sinking his teeth into it to maintain whatever little self control he has left that's keeping him from tearing the panties off you right this second. Instead he pulls the panty string away from your skin a small distance, relishing in the small view of the hip bone it was doing a terrible job of hiding. He lets go with a mischievous smirk, enjoying very thoroughly the way your body jerks slightly and you gasp at the snap.

You only pull his hair a little in retaliation this time, not trying to upset him or cause him to spiral any further, but just enough to demonstrate your acknowledging what you think is him playfully trying to cheer himself up. He whimpers again, loving the feeling of your hands on him even if it isn't sexual or romantic to you, it definitely is to him. His masochistic ways love the way it stings for the briefest of seconds when you pull his hair. Your actions only serve to spur him on even further. His hands are tantalizingly slow as he glides them up your waist, sliding the shirt to bunch up just below your breasts.

You shiver as he runs a nail along the curve of your waist. He happily observes it with an endeared smile while taking in the bruises forming at your waist and hips. He loves how his hands are imprinted into your skin, thinks that's how it should always be. He lets his mind imagine what you'd look like with bruises from both his hands and mouth on your neck and chest as well. His sigh is shaky as his dick twitches again against the fabric of his pants.

He leans back, hands still on your waist, and observes you from above. You're beautiful as always, and your expression holds no discomfort with his actions. You smile at him sweetly while your hands drop to either side of you. You look so vulnerable like this, practically trapped, so easy to pin down. He bites his lip harder now, taking in such an attractive sight. No other woman could make him feel this way. He's sure of that much.

He decides not to pin you down again for now, favoring the idea of getting his hands even just a little closer to the beautiful, perfectly rounded swells he has become rather obsessed with. No one had to know how much he thought about your chest, nor the way he stared when you weren't looking. The way he imagined what they would feel like gripped in his hands or on his lips, the way he imagined what they would look like had he somehow been graced with the privilege of not having god damn clothing in the way.

But whether anyone knew or not, all of it was true. He was obsessed, in truth he never felt that attracted to other women's breasts not to mention the straight undeterred obsession he feels for yours. Never before had he even been interested in other women, he can't help but wonder why that is.

He's careful and slow, hesitant as he slides his hands up slightly to rest with the bunch of the shirt directly under your breasts. He watches your reaction carefully and slowly slides his fingers over the skin on the side of your breasts, not directly touching them but close enough to almost feel them.

The action lifts the shirt just enough to show the lowest portion of your boobs, nipples still entirely covered. His breathing shakes as he thinks about it, looking into your eyes as you stare patiently back at him. You still make no effort to stop him, only stretching your arms over your head with a pleased hum escaping your beautifully parted lips. He watches entranced as the shirt lifts the tiniest bit higher in your stretch. Your back arches fully and your body curves in the most enticing way he has ever seen, he groans as your chest pushes up with the arch. Your breasts perfectly shaped and so much easier to see with the new angle.

You smile guilelessly, gently as your hands remain above your head softly caressing his silk sheets. Your body is curved for him so perfectly he has to fight the urge to kiss every inch of your skin to worship the absolute goddess you most definitely have to be. He can't resist however the subtle thrust of his hips towards you. He manages enough restraint to not let his dick touch you but his hardened length now dripping with precum is so painfully obvious in his grey sweatpants. If you notice this, you don't show it and stay smiling sweetly at him.

His dick is so close to where he feels it belongs that it makes him feel crazy. His fingers unconsciously wrap around the bunch of your shirt and he tugs. "Please.." His voice is soft, a pleading whine as his mind has finally crossed the border into submissive pussy-drunk arousal. At this point he is so hooked and out of it you could literally step on him and he'd still moan. "Please y/n.. please" The desperation in his last word makes it sound like if you say no he'll not only start crying again but he might just keel over and die.

Your expression is shocked at first, but then quickly morphs into a deep concern. He was normally so strong and now he was falling apart in front of you (for you, really, but you still don't see it that way). "Baby it's okay, you're okay." Your voice is the softest it's ever been, you bring your hands up to wipe the tears from his face. "I'm right here bubs, whatever you need. I just want you to feel better." He whines and grinds his hips in the air again while rubbing his face against one of your hands. He inhales deeply to calm himself down slightly, breathing in your comforting scent.

He then gently and hesitantly begins lifting your shirt up. Your breath hitches at the cold air assaulting your nipples but you allow him to expose your body to his yearning eyes. As soon as your hardened nipples come into view he can't stop the thrust of his hips against your clothed pussy. He whines and whimpers pitifully as he gently rocks his hips back and forth against you. His eyes roll back slightly and he moans as soon as he lifts the shirt from over your head, throwing it across the room. You gasp and look up at him in shock.

With his hips still subtly rocking against you he moves his hands to grip both of your breasts. He moans loudly and groans at the way your soft breasts feel in his hands. Even better than he had imagined, he may very well become addicted. Your breathing has gone ragged, gasps escaping your lips each time his fingers graze your nipples. He growls, loving having you react to his touches. He pinches one nipple between his fingers and toys with it, observing the way you squirm on his sheets. He twists and you yelp, not pained but surprised. The sound is so arousing he groans and dips his head towards the other breast. He continues to play with you while he kisses the swell of your boob. You sigh shakily and unconsciously meet his thrusts with a subtle one of your own.

"Ah.. s-so perfect." He moans, sucking a dark red bruise into your breast. Your whimper is like music to his ears, he wants more. He moves down to your nipple and begins sucking on it happily, he's too out of it to even realize what it is exactly he's doing to his best friend but it feels so good.

His unoccupied hand goes to your thigh pulling you flush against him and relishing in the way you moan at the action. His hand slides back down to your hip, a strong grip holding you to grind against you harder. His moans turn into a string of curses, hips stuttering as he nears his high. His whimpers are full of pain and desperation as he falls apart on you.

"I've got you bub.. you can let go it's okay." You lay a gentle kiss to his head despite the rocking of your bodies as he grinds himself against you, then you gently massage his hair again. He sighs and relaxes in response to your touch, a broken moan escaping him as he comes undone in his sweatpants. His hips continue for a good thirty seconds through incoherent pleas and mumbles of your name against your nipple.

Once he has returned to earth he looks up at you like a kicked puppy, eyes again sparkly and glossed over with more tears as his lip trembles, expression completely fucked out but also lost and confused. He had never looked so vulnerable.

You stop him before he can even begin to apologize. Pulling him closer and cradling him in your arms as he sobs again. "Shh Jisung.. s'okay. I'm here and everything's okay you don't need to think right now. Let's just get you cleaned up and then we can cuddle okay?" He nods hesitantly in your shoulder and nuzzles into your hair. "Good boy, can you roll over for me?" You softly tap his hip to get him to lay on his back.

He does as he's told and looks up at you sadly with tears slowly falling from his eyes, but he tries his best to stay silent as you begin removing his pants. He's embarrassed but also too fucked out to do it himself. "I'll be right back, stay still for me." You walk out and into the bathroom before returning with a warm cloth.

You are careful and gentle as you removes his clothes, avoiding looking anywhere you don't have to in order to avoid embarrassing him any further. You then gently wipe him off, trying not to let yourself falter at his pained cries and whimpers of overstimulation.

Feeling you take care of him makes him feel safe and loved despite all of the mess that today has brought. However, he would also be lying if he said he didn't actually enjoy the way your touches hurt and overwhelmed him. He buries his desire for more and tries his best to simply be grateful for the amount you just gave him, when he totally deserved to be kicked right in the crotch for being a pathetic horny man who wants his best friend to ruin him.

You remove his shirt too, he isn't sure why really, he knows it isn't dirty. You then walk off to his closet and grab two of his baggy comfort tees and a pair of boxers from his drawer. He stays sniffling with a pout on his lips on the bed and doesn't even try to hide the way he watches your ass when you walk away, nor does he try to be subtle about checking out your lace panties and the way your boobs bounce as you walk back towards him.

He sighs content as you slide the comfy tee over his head and he raises his hips to help you with his underwear. He takes the other shirt from you and puts it gently on the bed before looking up at you and burying his face against your stomach as more tears fall from his eyes.

He's full on shaking now and he isn't exactly sure why. Nothing makes sense to him right now, his head feels funny, he's tired, mad at himself, embarrassed, ashamed, afraid, he has a head ache, he's dizzy. He's never felt so overwhelmed in his entire life. His arms wrap tightly around your body and he shakes with more sobs, body wracked with pent up frustration even his climax couldn't free him from. He can't even breathe.

"Baby.. please lay down Sungie.. please lay down for me." He chokes on a sob and gasps for air, whining as he forces himself to pull away and lay down like you tell him to. You grab the t-shirt from the bed and set it on the nightstand by his bed for later, picking up on the fact that he wanted it to stay off for now, whatever the reason may be.

He immediately curls into a ball sniffling, so fragile he may shatter if you aren't careful and you grab his favorite blanket from the side of the bed and drape it over him. You climb under it with him and he immediately sobs again and pulls you into him, desperately trying to be as close to you as possible. He knows how pathetic he must look but he can't help it. He's overwhelmed and so scared of losing you that he's now having a panic attack.

"Jisung.. You're scaring me, what's going on?" He starts hyperventilating at that, not wanting to have to explain his feelings for you, or why he did the things he just did, or how hard it is to be around you when you're.. well.. you. He doesn't want to have to say he's crazy about you, that he wants you to be his, that every little moment you share means so much more to him then it ever will to you, that every little seductive act you unconsciously make is agonizing to him. He doesn't even want to have to tell you about how work is stressing him out, about how tired he is. He doesn't wanna tell you that you're the only thing that makes it better, that you make everything better, and he simply cannot think straight with you around. That he doesn't even want to.

"I'm sorry baby, you don't have to tell me. I'm so sorry, breathe for me please. It's okay I'm right here, I'll take care of you." You rub his back and allow him to rest his head on top of your chest again. It's a comforting pillow and your hands, he swears they have healing powers, the way they make everything feel okay.

He gasps for air and tries to regulate his breathing. Holding your other hand up to his lips, his voice is hoarse and broken when he speaks. "Please.. Please d-don't leave.. Don't leave me.." His lips kiss your knuckles as he talks. He isn't opposed to begging for forgiveness and dropping on his knees to plead you to stay if it comes down to it.

"I'm not going anywhere, would never leave you bub." You kiss the top of his head and snuggle against him, tightly holding him close as you try to convey the truth in your words through your body. "Never."

"Really?" He looks up at you with sparkly sweet eyes, sensitive and wavering.

"Yes Hannie, would never leave you. You're irreplaceable to me, I love you."

He gasps, even though there's no evidence you mean it any way but platonically, he is taken off guard by the fact that you have never said those words to him in a format that wasn't a joke. For once he chooses not to overthink it, no matter how you mean it, he's happy.

He smiles brightly at you, the child like grin you've grown to love returning. "I love you too y/n"

You smile at him softly before pulling him back down into your chest, there you both fall asleep for the night. You, naked except for your panties under the blanket with marks littering various parts of your skin and him, almost fully clothed wrapped up tightly in your arms as if maybe you could shield him from every hardship of the world with your arms alone.

Stray Kids Masterlist

Taglist: @my-neurodivergent-world

[cenizasdelaurel]

k, every time I try to explain my meal prep method to somebody I think I sound pretty normal when in reality I look like this:

But I'll share it anyway for the depressed besties out there for them to see that you can actually beat the what's for dinner demon once and for all, and the solution is, as usual, BE MEDIOCRE ABOUT IT.

You're gonna choose two protein sources ,could be some kinda meat, or some grains. I usually choose both so I cook let's say, chicken and black peas or chickpeas. Now, you're going to cook TRIPLE the ration you'd usually cook: if you eat a chicken thigh per meal you cook three, or a whole chicken. The same for the peas.

Then you're gonna choose two vegetables for the fibre, or maybe one. But I like variety so I always get carrots and cabbage, which last an eternity in the fridge without getting stale. You can choose some canned goods, if you're feeling fancy, like corn or whatever.

Lastly you will choose your carbohydrates. I usually pick rice. And you are going to cook a gross amount of rice, which is not difficult BC measuring rice is ridiculous you just do it by heart and then deal with the consequences.

Now you're left with everything needed for a whole meal: protein, carbs and fibre. Next step is to combine them however you like. Could be chicken with rice and peas with a carrot side salad. Carrots and cabbage are easy to season, you can use whatever you like: salt, vinegar, soy sauce, Cesar and mustard. And it's always good. Could be rice and peas and an egg on top. Chicken and cabbage salad with spicy black peas, throw some garlic at them and boom, magic. Leftover chicken salted with soy sauce and spicy cabbage, you already have this in your fridge, boom, meal!

This method usually lasts me at least three to four dinners. If I get bored I add something more, like canned corn, or pickled stuff which always go well in salads. Sometimes it won't be as yummy but hey, you're getting nutrients. That's the important thing I guess.

This method also helped me with my eating disorder. Sometimes it doesn't have to be a tasty meal, food is food and this helps me maintain a neutral attitude towards eating because it erases it from my daily thoughts. I'll eat whichever combination of things I already have prepared and bye. Also it keeps me away from ultra processed foods and it's extremely budgety. You can replace chicken with just peas, or some eggs or some tofu.

I know that finding time to cook it's very difficult. I usually do this one time and then it lasts, but this method has its limitations, without a fridge I'd be dead. Fuck the capitalist system for robbing us from our capacity to prepare decent meals.

I hope I helped!

What are you even supposed to eat for dinner

[marithempressz]

What are your hidden powers?

For today’s reading I’ll be using a deck with brazilian divine beings, they’re called Orixás, you’re all welcome to know these gods. This is a collective reading, so just take what resonates.

Pile 1 - Tiger's eye Pile 2 - Moonstone Pile 3 - Blue Agate

Pile 1

Nine of Wands, The Judgement

Ogum

You have the power to survive the cold, I feel high perseverance,  a warm heart and great courage. I see a reindeer(deers are also relevant, but because reindeers survive in the cold and I also saw antlers, I thought reindeers make more sense, but take what resonates).  It feels like royalty, this group has a certain ease to lead. Wisdom. You might be a loner, didn't find your people yet, still figuring it out, but we both know that you’ll definitely succeed. Don’t worry too much if you’re right or wrong in your path, walk through it with your heart and you’ll find out what’s right for you. You don’t seem to be frightened by the future, but you seem to be tired of being so perseverant. You might ask yourself if there’s more of life than just fighting battles.

The reindeer’s antlers are like a crown and are also a manifestation of wisdom, for me it looks like a tree’s root, but growing upwards as a crown, the fact that it comes out of their head and it’s a bone structure seems to be a sign of sagacity and experience. They’re also mammals, they have warm hearts and survive cold environments.

Aries, Leo or Sagittarius. Your hidden powers might not be that hidden lol. Everything that’s connected to fire always erupts in a way or another, don’t try to hide that away. There’s intelligence here for sure and great personalities, you’re here to accomplish great things and do great things, no matter how small your step is right now, in the future, things will have grown so much you won’t even notice. You have the hidden power to end cycles, to know and to spread the truth, your path is important to be walked, don’t hide away, you’re supposed to face it, you have the capacity to face it. People will be grateful for you, you’ll help many people doing the things you are meant to do.

War is a theme here, but as I said, you might ask yourself when will life stop tasting like a fight, a battle. This is definitely to be healed, but war might have taught you to not give up and to not abandon yourself. Meditate upon this. I heard something about “you’re fighting the wrong battle”, this fire you hold is being put in the wrong direction, you are supposed to use your wisdom and know where to put your sacred energy.

Ogum, in Brazil, is a divine being that’s related to war and iron. He’s a very fiery God, needs constant movement, he opens the way and leads people so they can walk through it. He’s strong and fierce. There’s an energy here about building things out of nowhere, a great hidden power also related to perseverance; from where people least expect, something big and powerful can arise.  

Pile 2

The Knight of Swords, Two of Swords, The Star

Logun Edé

Water, waterfalls, flowers, femininity. The night time, the moon. This is my psychic pile, girly girls who are probably Cancers or have prominent Cancer in their natal chart. Delicate and soft, so fragile. There it is, your hidden power is being vulnerable to your feelings and respecting your emotions, your fantasies and dreams. It feels like a “silent” power, the opposite of Pile 1, which is a more obvious and aggressive manifestation of it. For Pile 2 people here are dreamy and just so cute, like a disney princess or something, talking to nature and animals, the world feels magical, full of mysteries to be uncovered.

I saw in the cards something about divorced parents, as if all this chaos resulted in you, as a child, having to forget everything that was going on in the external world and creating this dreamy personality(a certain appeal to illusions in the negative way). This pile is also screaming to me how our biggest wounds can also be our biggest powers(that when we heal them properly). People here could also be ignoring some situations, maybe their feelings, because they’re afraid of how big these emotions are. Take some quiet time to just feel it, they won’t hurt, they’re just feelings. Air and Water are very present, see how similar they can be, these elements are free, we can’t lock it, we can’t have it just for us, they're supposed to flow freely, with no attachments; now, you can apply the same perspective to your emotional field. It’s free to flow, no judgments, no limits.

Logun Edé follows the same nature, they don’t seem to have a gender, some stories tell they flow from gender to another. Another hidden power of yours must be flexibility. Logun is also ruled by water, they rule prosperity, wealth and beauty. Balance. They’re hunters in the forest, they carry a bow and arrow; with the swords cards there’s a suggestion of fierceness, standing to one’s self. Highly intuitive. You might have a connection to seahorses.

Pile 3

The Magician, Seven of Wands, Page of Swords

Iansã

The way you use your words. Speech. Witty. Practicality. You know words hold magic, “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." It seems that you know how to come up with some good arguments in a discussion or maybe you are not aware of that yet. It’s easy for you to play with your imagination and in a way you know that “playing” with these scenarios will bring them into reality. You like things fast and in your way. There’s also a connection with scents in here, you might like perfumes, things that smell good and a very sensitive nose. I’m getting people from this pile have a big personality, like their opinion might have some weight, might be important in a way for a group of people or maybe you have an “influencer” personality, people around you take your opinions as something important.

Because of how much people care with your opinions, you probably are in a high place in your life, this is not necessarily about work, there’s just this thing of being “big” and important. You probably are in a high spiritual level of consciousness, the Magician card is giving this confirmation, you know something most people don’t…

You might not have much tolerance, because you always want things in your way and usually people are a distraction for your plans, so you prefer doing things alone. Very independent.

Iansã is a boss bitch, she’s the type of woman that prefers to conquer her stuff, her house and money. She works really hard. It’s said that she rules storms, lightning and the winds, a pretty seductive woman. If I were to describe her energy I would probably say she’s an Aries woman. Have you seen Lady Gaga? Unstoppable. She’s eager to conquer everything she desires.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

this one morning. l Joel Miller

Summary: signs appeared

Warnings: fluff, some worries and concerns, some tears, Ann and Tommy appear, pregnancy?

A/N: tell me what you think about it. about this chapter? about this story? about what I write? about anything? special thanks to @underneath-the-sky-again. thank you, sweetie

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

The patrols had been called off due to the blizzard. Joel and a few other men were securing the stables and then they were going to tackle the interior of another house. Ellie and Dina didn't feel like spending time with you, which you understood perfectly, so you bundled up and went to Ann's house. The Christmas lights were shining in her windows, Ann had an uncanny ability to create a wonderful homely atmosphere and you knew that spending time there would definitely help you.

“I can’t believe how fast he’s growing,” you said, looking at Elijah who was sitting in his playpen, busy with his toys.

“I just need to blink and he’ll grow up a little.” Ann laughed, placing a cup of tea in front of you. “Joel brought in the wooden blocks he made for him yesterday. I didn’t know he could do things like that! Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?”

“No, thank you.” You replied. “I haven’t been able to drink it or even smell it lately.”

Ann handed you a piece of cake, smiling as if she remembered something really funny. “I remember Shane making me coffee once. I got sick and threw up in the kitchen sink. Then it turned out to be Elijah’s fault. Right, honey?” she cooed at the boy, and he squealed as if he understood her.

But his mother's face suddenly turned serious, her eyes widening as she looked at you. Your name fell from her lips in a whisper. "Can you be..." she began.

You couldn't answer. The thought had been circling your mind for almost two weeks. You hadn't talked about it with anyone, but deep down you were glad that it was your friend who asked the question you were afraid of.

"I don't know." You answered quietly, gripping the hot mug tighter in your hands. "I... I have no idea."

Ann sat on the edge of the couch, leaning toward you. “But you can be? How late are you?”

“Six weeks, almost seven.”

Ann’s face gave way to a ghost of a smile, but then she turned serious again. “Did you take a test?” You shook your head. “Joel knows?”

“I didn’t tell him.” You looked down, feeling a knot in your stomach. “I don’t want to give him hope…”

“Hope?” Ann’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You tried for that baby!”

You put the cup on the table and hid your face in your hands, sighing deeply. You wanted to tell Joel everything. You hated keeping secrets from him, but at the same time you were afraid that it might be a false alarm. You had been feeling uneasy for a few weeks now, but you kept it to yourself.

"I'm scared." You finally said, giving vent to what had been sitting in your chest for so long. "After what happened last time, I'm scared..." You looked at Ann, tears glistening in her eyes. You finally stopped defending yourself. A few tears rolled down your cheeks. "What if this all happens again? My heart would break if..."

“Don’t think like that.” Ann cut you off and quickly stood up, then sat down next to you. “You both deserve to be happy. You should take a test and tell Joel. Do you have one?”

You nodded, wiping your cheek. “I found it at the pharmacy on my last patrol.”

“Don’t tell Joel that.” Ann grabbed your hand, smiling. “If Joel finds out you suspected you were pregnant and were on patrol…” 

You both giggled. A weight lifted from your heart and you felt a little better. This conversation didn’t solve all your worries, but you already knew you weren’t alone in this. And that was comforting.

The soft whistle of the kettle echoed through the kitchen. Joel poured boiling water into the mugs, then picked them up and slowly walked up the stairs. It was still early, and you had plenty of time before you had to take care of your duties. You could spend this time lounging in your warm bed and lazily cuddling—Joel really liked that. Time just for the two of you, time to pretend the world hadn’t ended at all, and everything was as it could be.

He set the cups down by the empty bed and noticed that the light was still coming from under the bathroom door. Nothing else. No sound, no morning bustle, no running water. That worried Joel a little. He walked quietly to the door.

“Sweetheart?” he knocked. “Are you okay? I made you some tea.”

Silence. Joel frowned, feeling a growing unease in his chest. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and knocked again.

“You’re worrying me, sweetheart. Can I come in?”

You didn't say anything. Joel put his hand on the doorknob and the door opened without a problem. He carefully entered and immediately saw you sitting on the edge of the tub. Something was wrong. Joel swallowed.

"Something wrong?" he asked "Baby, talk to me, please..."

You looked up at him with barely visible eyes, tears glistening in them. "Joel..." your voice broke.

You couldn't speak. You held out the long, white object to him, and Joel, slightly confused, took it in his hand. It took him a few seconds to realize what he was looking at. Two distinct lines could only mean one thing.

"Baby..." he sighed, looking at you in a way he had never done before. "Really?"

You nodded, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks again. "I'm almost 7 weeks late. I don't feel nauseous, but my breasts are sore, and the smell of coffee is irritating... Yeah, I think we did it, Joel."

You looked at each other for a moment. Neither of you knew what to say, the moment had swallowed you like a bubble and you were completely stunned. Finally, it was Joel who made the first move, placing the test on the sink and reaching for you. You took his hand and stood up, snuggling up to him. He was warm, smelling like home. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, feeling your heartbeat and at the same time feeling like his legs were made of cotton.

"Are you happy?" you gasped, your cheeks still wet.

A warm hand cupped your cheek. Joel smiled. You saw the small wrinkles around his eyes, his soft brown eyes full of feelings for you.

"I'm the happiest man in the world, my love," he replied, "I have everything with you."

And he kissed you, already knowing that what he was saying was true.

"Joel? What the hell are you doing here?"

Tommy approached his brother, who was preparing to go on patrol. His horse was already saddled, and his rifle was slung over his shoulder. He looked at him, demanding an explanation.

“How does that look to you? I’m going on patrol,” Joel replied, still working. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“It’s not your turn,” Tommy said, crossing his arms over his chest. “What now? She was feeling sick the other day, and then she had to help Ann. You can’t keep covering for her on patrol.”

“That doesn’t bother anyone,” Joel muttered. “Come on, Tommy.”

The man snickered. “What? Is she pregnant or something?”

Something in Joel shifted slightly. Tommy had known him long enough to notice it. He noticed the small gesture, the change in his gaze.

“No shit!” he choked out. “Really? Damn! You still have it, don’t you? Oh, man!” he patted Joel on the shoulder. “That’s good news!” But he noticed that Joel’s face wasn’t as happy as he’d expected. Quite the opposite. Something was nagging at him.

Tommy leaned in slightly. “But she’s fine, right? Have you been to the clinic yet?”

Joel nodded. “Yeah. She goes almost every week. Listen…” he looked at Tommy, and Tommy saw the hidden fear in his eyes. “After what happened, we don’t want to take any risks. Morris says everything’s great, but we won’t be able to relax until we get to the second trimester.”

“What week is she?”

“Almost ten.” The corner of his mouth lifted. Just the thought of you and the baby growing under your heart made him want to smile.

Tommy looked at the men preparing for patrol, then back at Joel. “Listen, you’re not alone. We’ll all keep an eye on her, I promise you. No patrols, no hard work.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. We’re family, right?”

Joel nodded. “Don’t spread it around. We want to keep it to ourselves as long as possible.”

“Sure.” Tommy grinned. “Back to diapers, huh? You must be so happy.”

“We are.”

The same day you took the test, you went to the clinic. You waited until dusk again and kept it a secret. Dr. Morris examined you and assured you that the pregnancy was progressing.

“The results are normal. The heart is beating strongly,” he said as you stared at the blurry image on the screen. “You should be more careful because of what happened earlier. But I think you’re out of danger at this point.”

From that day on, every night, Joel put a red cross on the calendar in the workshop. He counted down the days until you were both safe. There was nothing more he could do. Joel took over for you on patrol, but that was all. Oh, and he also started drinking coffee by the open window or on the porch so the smell wouldn’t bother you. Despite all your fears, you were truly happy.

And you were in this together, like a family.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait

[mirclealignr]

self preservation | james potter [4k]

james potter x fem!reader

requested by anonymous wherein james likes everyone but y/n.

warnings: descriptions of vehicle disasters, death, gets a little dark, angst, she / her pronouns, and i think that’s it?

a/n: help IDK. anyway lemme know ur thoughts !

If James Potter could embody his hatred into a sentient being, he knew it would take the form of Y/N. Ever since their schooling days, James had held a particular disregard for her. Though she seemed the person everyone could like - a pleasing disposition, an amiable temperament - James could not help but dislike her.

No one else could see through her falsity. James vehemently protested her joining the Order, but alas, he was overruled. To James, this was merely a temporary setback, and he would still yet prove to the others what a mistake it was accepting her.

She was insufferable, inappropriate, and unsuitable for this sort of position. She would not be an asset to the Order, purely a liability. He watched her train, knowing she could never rise to the challenge of the types of operations they carried out: gathering intelligence, attacking Voldemort’s followers directly in meticulously orchestrated missions, and protecting vulnerable individuals who had, for some reason, made themselves Voldemort’s targets.

James knew it was only a matter of time before she proved herself unworthy.

“If everyone is here, I think we can start the meeting,” suggested James after a few moments of polite mingling.

“Y/N isn’t here,” Remus noted. “We should wait for her.”

“It isn’t our fault if she can’t make our meetings on time,” spat James.

“She’s not actually late yet, James,” Marlene rolled her eyes. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”

James ignored the probing of Marlene and instead crossed his arms, his lips pressed in a tight line. What would it matter if she missed the start of the meeting? She was not so very important to the Order, in any regard.

As James quietly huffed, Y/N peered around the door sheepishly. “Sorry. Was hoping I wouldn’t be the last to arrive.”

“No matter,” hummed Dumbledore. “Shall we begin?” He lifted his arms, a sort of request that people took their seats and quietened down.

James could hardly pay attention to the meeting at all. He seethed at Y/N, glaring at her, thinking about all the ways in which she would inevitably fail the Order and cost them valuable information, their secrecy, and perhaps even their lives. Sirius had once asked him why he disliked her so, but he could not think of an answer beyond — “There’s just something about her.” 

The truth, no one would ever know.  

“Mr. Potter?”

James said nothing.

“Mr. Potter?!” Minerva said again, louder this time.

James snapped his attention toward Minerva. “Sorry! What were you saying?” his cheeks flushed.

Minerva sighed. “We have it on good authority that Voldemort is planning some sort of attack in London. However, we believe this to be a decoy for something much bigger. Now, we can't be sure, but-"

"But we think they're planning an attack on the Ministry," interrupted Moody.

"The Ministry?!" Lily seemed rather shocked. "It's one thing attacking defenceless Muggles, it's another to attack the Ministry of Magic."

"We've been aware for some time that the Ministry has been infiltrated, Miss Evans," Kinglsey Shacklebolt chimed in. "We have only been unaware as to who it is feeding information back to Voldemort."

"Why now?" Asked Sirius.

"The Ministry is...distracted. With the recurrence of attacks in the Muggle World, the Ministry's top priority is maintaining our secrecy. The Muggle Prime Minister is becoming more uncooperative." Moody explained.

"Who can blame him?" Minerva scoffed.

"So, what are we doing about it?" James asked.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Moody turned to him. "We need people stationed both in the potential attack spots in London and within the Ministry. We need a safe house, we need-"

"Numbers," James finished his sentence.

"Exactly. Which means everyone will be a part of this operation, everyone."

Although this was to be expected, it did not mean that those who were usually part of the behind the scenes aspects of the Order were not apprehensive as to their performances in the field. While everyone had received training and were more than enough prepared for such an operation, training in a controlled space was nothing to the unpredictability of real life. There would be no second chances.

James laughed humourlessly. The disaster he had predicted was about to come to fruition. Thursday next, he would be proven right.

Y/N out in the field? Though she had been desperate to be part of operations like this, James had protested her at every corner. Albus and Minerva merely agreed due to her age and inexperience, though she was not much younger than James herself.  James did not care why they kept her out of the field in the end, as long as she was kept out.

But it seemed, there would be no protesting this decision.

The mingling continued post meeting, some taking small portions of food and others inching their way to the door with polite smiles on their faces. James watched the scene before him unfold—observing the awkward small talk, tuning in on the more serious chatter of the senior members.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admitted. “Are you?” She asked Lily.

“A little, yeah. But we’ll be fine!” She assured her.

“You won’t be alone,” Remus reassured the both of them. “We’ll all be there.”

James chuckled. “Yeah but we can’t be covering your arse the whole time.”

The three of them turned to James’ direction. Remus shot him an uncomfortable look, a silent plea to drop the subject and move on.

“What? I’m just saying, we’re not here to hold your hand and risk the entire point of the operation just because you aren’t good enough for field work.”

Y/N’s countenance could not be characterised by merely one thing. It was evident in her face she felt humiliated, downcast and reproachful. Nevertheless, with a brave face, Y/N smiled gently, strategically avoiding the concerned looks of Lily and Remus.

“Best not get in my way, then,” she said through gritted teeth, sliding between her friends to bid her goodbyes to Albus and Minerva.

“Careful, James” Lily warned. “Anyone would think you don’t want her to get hurt.”

- - -

Y/N hadn’t the faintest idea as to James’ disdain for her. For a while, during their Hogwarts years, Y/N optimistically imagined it was part of a bit, that perhaps this was his way of seeking her attention. But after years of growing and maturing, this part of their relationship remained unchanged, regardless of his obvious efforts to mend his other ways.

If anything, his hatred for her only grew. His childish dislike was replaced with concrete, adult contempt, something that could not be easily shifted nor changed. For the most part, she didn’t let him get to her, for she was adamant in rebuking his success. However, upon discovering it was James who was behind keeping from really being a part of the Order, things took a drastic change.

Almost instantly, his immature jibes and snarky comments pricked at her fragile skin, pinched her nerves and seized her sensitive heart. Suddenly, it was much harder to ignore the words that came from a place of such hatred. Especially when it came from someone she truly admired.

Yes, Y/N could not deny that ever since Hogwarts, she had admired James Potter. Confident, successful, intelligent—she was in awe of him from the beginning. It was quiet admiration, a well kept secret. After joining the Order, she observed that these talents had only blossomed.

Y/N slipped quietly away from the safe house, walking through the small park lit up by extravagantly designed lampposts. She listened to the fountain, the crunch of leaves from hedgehogs coming out of their slumber, and for any sign of footsteps behind her. These were dangerous times. When it was safe, she apparated home—a small flat on the outskirts of the centre of London. From her bedroom window she could see the impressive city skyline.

She didn’t mind living in Muggle London for the most part, but she knew it wouldn’t be forever. When it was all over, she’d move far away from it all, from where it had all happened.

But for now, she was exactly where she needed to be.

- - -

It had all been decided. A safe house had been provided in South Hampton, where Dorcas would stay and monitor, charming it with spells that could not be pierced. Kingsley would remain with the Muggle Prime Minister with an extra helping hand from Minerva. Moody retained his position within the Ministry where Remus, Lily, Frank and Marlene were posted.

Albus, Y/N, James, Alice, Gideon and Fabian were stationed throughout Muggle London, paired off and waiting for some sort of attack. James and Y/N were waiting near the Thames, a coffee sitting on their table, a half eaten pastry—blending in. James hadn’t said a word.

“The Order does not function when we are divided, Mr. Potter. This is not a punishment, as you have described, it is a reconciliation.”

James could hear Dumbledore’s words reverberating through his thoughts. Mindless words, he thought. As much as he hated to admit it, however, he knew Dumbledore’s words rang with truth.

“So…what’d you order?” James asked.

Y/N snapped her eyes from the river, laughing through her nose before answering. “Err something with pistachio, I think? Not that nice. You?”

“Regular.”

Y/N knew this was simply an attempt to appear normal—to chat and act natural. But there was a small part of her that wished it was more.

“I don’t even like coffee,” James laughed.

Y/N laughed too, scrunching her brows together. “Why didn’t you get a hot chocolate or something?”

“I don’t even know,” he shook his head.

“Want to try mine?” Y/N asked.

James was taken aback. He had his reasons, but he’d never been nice to Y/N, not even polite, so it took him by surprise when she gave him the benefit of the doubt and was nice to him anyway.

“No, it’s okay.”

She shrugged, leaving her pistachio drink on the table. She wondered if she should say something now or let the silence settle around them again like a cage they seemed to never be released from.  

“Have you heard anything?” Y/N asked.

“Not yet. It’s getting to that time when all the Muggles leave work. London is about to get even busier,” he sighed, concerned for the lives he couldn’t protect.

“Even if our best isn’t good enough, we still cared enough to do something,” Y/N reassured him, placing her hand on his atop the table.

James felt curiously warm from her act of kindness, something which led him into a kind of comfort he’d never felt before. And it was likely to do with the fact he’d never let her this close before.

Y/N had run out of time to fix what was broken between them, for behind James’ head, she saw it—a flare of red sparks. Someone had cast Vermillious.

“James, we need to go,” Y/N instructed, nodding her head in the direction of where she had seen it—the remnants of red hung in the air.

“Shit!”

The two of them ran to a nearby alley, Y/N ever so slightly behind. When they were sure enough to be alone, the two of them clasped hands and apparated to the nearest high rise they could remember seeing beside the red sparks. It did not take them long after arriving to realise from where the commotion had originated.

Streams of people spilled out from the stairs of the Underground, running, screaming, and terrified.

James dove into the horde of civilians, squeezing and shoving his way through the onslaught of panic. Y/N followed, slipping through behind him in the path he’d already cleared. It was a maze and understanding it certainly wasn’t helped by people running in every direction to find any sort of exit. James had only been down there once as a laugh with his mates, curious to experience how Muggles got around.

But Y/N, she had been on the tube a plethora of times. She enjoyed feeling like she was a part of something just as everyone else was. She missed the feeling of belonging—being in Muggle London made it easier for her with the Order, but she felt bitterly alone, isolated and excluded in a city that would never understand nor accept her.

“I can’t tell what’s actually going on,” James shouted over the swarm.

“I don’t-”

But Y/N was cut short by an Earth-shattering crash somewhere in the distance ahead, followed by an echo of shrieks. The citizens of London intensified their cries, panic overloading as people began to push and shove, trampling over each other to reach some kind of safety. 

James began helping individuals who had tumbled to the floor while Y/N tried to deduce the direction from which they were running. It seemed as if most people were heading away from the north east side, and so that is the direction they headed.

However, they did not need to reach their destination to figure out what had caused so much horror. On their way, they saw Gideon and Fabian, crawling and stumbling in the wreckage of two Underground tubes that had evidently crashed into one another. And further on, Albus and Alice at yet another wreckage site. 

This was grave. There were not enough of them.

James had lost sight of Y/N, torn between who to help and what direction to go. He ran through the Underground, searching for more trains, if there were any other damages, searching for Y/N. After many twists and turns he found her, leading civilians aboard a train to safety. It had not been crashed into by another, but James suspected, as she did, it was mostly likely a sitting duck.

James herded the swarm of people towards the nearest exit, panic setting in as he heard a train barrelling into the station from a distance through the echoing tunnel. There were still people on the train, including Y/N, forcing people up, helping children who had lost their parents in the tumult. It was nearing ever closer, blasting its horn as a siren of danger which only fueled the hysteria of helpless innocents.

Death approached, warning its potential victims, crying for lives to be spared. Y/N was determined to save as many as she could, as time would allow. And though she had been unwilling to sacrifice her own, in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

“Y/N, get off that train now!” James screamed.

He had never felt such fear seize him before, snatching his breath from his lungs. He was immobilised with dread, terror, a fear that had forced on him the truths he had not previously been willing to confront. If Y/N died now, those truths and his regret would be buried, unable to be dug out to make way for something new, someone new. Y/N would remain with him forever, interlaced into the very fabric of his being, unable to materialise. 

Y/N looked up through the window, a child in her arms. She knew the deadly collision was imminent, she knew the child was frightened yet unaware as to why. She could see his mother was crying, held back by onlookers - those who had no attachment to the child yet could not see a mother die alongside her young.

James watched as Y/N fought to reach the open doors as he forced his way through the crowd scrambling to get away and avoid the impact. He watched the train speed closer, inching Y/N towards the end. She understood nothing but to get the child off the train and into his mother’s arms. In a desperate attempt to bring this to fruition, she threw the child off the train, for time had swiftly been exhausted. James caught the screaming child, handing it off quickly to the mother who had not time to even express her gratitude before she ran from the platform seconds before the train collided with the other, Y/N having not made it to safety.

James threw himself round a corner, diving to the floor for some sort of cover. But almost as quickly as he had gone down, he was back on his feet, searching for a sign of Y/N in the wreckage. He could not see her anywhere, he could barely see anything in the mangled train. His heart stopped. Moments later Gideon and Fabian arrived on the scene, pulling survivors from the other train, calling for aid, but James merely fell to his knees.

After years, James had come to realise that it was not Y/N that he had hated, but the possibilities she illustrated, the hypotheticals that all too often ended in tragedy, of which she symbolised. Because, in spite of it all, James was afraid that the potential of her love, that eternal promise, would vanish, taken as a victim of the war like so much else.

All the hatred he had fostered and nurtured towards her, all the loathing, was nothing more than a pathetic attempt at self preservation. At all costs James would protect his heart against what might tear it apart, the remnants of his flesh revealing the pieces of her woven into him.

“James? What is it?” Alice cried, arriving at the scene.

He couldn’t speak, only lifted his head to look at the sight of it again, wincing. Alice followed his gaze, unsure of what he meant.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, suddenly frantic.

James whimpered.

“Where is she?” She asked again. “James?!”

“Gone! She’s gone, alright?!” Screamed James, tears slowly beginning to fall from his eyes and pathetically flow down his cheeks. 

Everything he had been protecting himself from had happened anyway, despite his efforts and regardless of what he had done to prevent it. Except, James was left with the uncertainty, the soul eroding sentiment, of ‘what if.’ In the months and years to come, instead of being able to reconcile with his grief, comforted by the fact that he had made the most of the time he had with her, James would be left a shadow of himself, shrinking into his shame and regret. 

He had convinced himself to hate her, and over the years had begun to believe in his own lie. He did not hate her at all. Everything he had done to keep her out of the Order had, perhaps sometimes subconsciously, been to prevent this very fate. Though he had disguised it with disregard and disbelief in her abilities, even at times believing in his own lie, it was all deception.

His biggest fear was loving and losing her, but now he had lost her without the privilege of being able to love her. 

There was no final goodbye, nothing he could say to her in her final moments to make anything worthwhile. She was simply gone. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. His tears had been few, perhaps too in shock to really hand himself over to the anguish that would inevitably consume him. 

He couldn’t stay there, not while there were innocent lives at stake. So James stood and mustered the strength he had left, turning to face Alice and Dumbledore. 

But James was met with a different face. Someone wholly unexpected. Y/N. 

“It’s okay,” Y/N laughed. “I’m fine.” 

“Wh- How?” James sniffled. 

“I disapparated. I don’t know why but I thought of home and that’s where I ended up. After the shock of like…nearly dying, I came straight back,” she explained, rather nonchalantly, James thought. “Sorry if I scared you.”

He could say nothing. He felt all too much to be able to decipher each emotion which mercilessly punctured his heart. James wrapped his arms around her in a pure and driven show of his affection, overcome with the emotion he had hidden and locked away for too long. He squeezed her tightly, and thanked some greater being that she hadn’t been harmed. 

He’d been given a second chance. 

- - - 

James didn’t see Y/N again until the next Order meeting a week later. Time and time again he found himself outside her apartment building, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, or a coffee without pistachio in it. But every time he felt the courage slip from his body, carried away in the late summer breeze. 

He didn’t know how to begin to make amends, how to say what he’d felt for years in a comprehensive way. It barely made sense to him why he had chosen the path that he had. How would it make sense to her, the person he had treated so poorly for all these years? 

As Dumbledore droned on, praising the members of the Order for how many lives they had saved, reassuring them over the lives that were lost, and cheering to an overall successful mission, James felt his eyes drawn to Y/N almost every second. She was her usual self, no different to how she had always been. 

James had faced his torment alone. 

“Y/N, could I speak to you?” James asked when the meeting had ended. 

“Sure,” she shrugged, heading into an empty room, suspecting nothing. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” James shifted his feet. “I don’t really know where to start.” 

James could hardly hear himself over the pounding in his ears. 

Y/N only smiled. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry…for how shit I’ve treated you over the years-”

“Oh, please, James, it’s fine,” laughed Y/N. “You don’t have to feel guilty ‘cause I might have almost died or something. I’m fine, so don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge,” she smiled, patting him on the shoulder. 

“No,” James said firmly, causing Y/N to remove the hand that had been placed comfortingly on his shoulder. “It’s more than that,” he hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve never felt so frightened in my entire life than when you were on that train. When I thought-” he steadied himself. “When I thought you’d gone, I’ve never felt such…despair.” 

Y/N listened closely, breath hitching. 

“I’ve never been able to tell you before, I’ve never wanted to because I thought that what I was doing was protecting myself. It didn’t matter if I was hurting you because in the end, I’d save us both from more heartbreak. But that day I realised, I wasn’t saving us from anything but more pain,” James took a deep breath. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. And I have been for a long time. Please, let me try to make things right between us.” 

Y/N stood and analysed James in silence. His sincerity was written all over his shameful expression, desperate for her approval. He wanted nothing more than to make amends, a second chance to make up for the years he had lost to foolishness. 

“James I-”

She hadn’t an idea of how to address him, or what to say. Could it work between them? The boy she had admired and the boy who hated her?

He waited anxiously, impatiently, tapping his fingers against his thighs. 

“I’d like you to try,” she let out a breath as she spoke the words. “I’d like us to try,” she smiled. 

James’ breath was trembling, but a wide grin spread over his lips as he took her in. Someone he had been so afraid of was so beautiful, so graceful, so forgiving.  He stepped an inch closer, and could smell the hint of her perfume. 

“Then, please, can I kiss you?” 

He was quivering. Y/N only nodded, unable to voice her response in fear she would sound too eager. James was tentative, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. Y/N closed her eyes before he had reached her, nervous and waiting for a moment she thought would live only in a fantasy. 

When James’ lips met hers, it was gentle but passionate, conveying every unspoken word between them in one simple, human gesture that mankind had designed to mean so much more. 

tags 🏷️: @foolexby @jaeviii @velvetcloxds

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[potatodemon-beesensible]

Heh. Yeah this reminds me of a skit where aliens discover the concept of math from us. They're horrified and think we're cultists or something. Like wizards inscribing runes so that our equipment works when from their perspective all we gotta do is just... do whatever makes the thing work without all the eldritch symbols.

The concept of aliens automatically knowing how to do stuff without math due to how their brains work. Henceforth, making math a very alien and even freaky concept to them. Also reminds me of Warhammer 40k where the Adeptus Mechanicus recite basic protocols for machine maintenence as religious text as they're oiling their tanks with holy water. This is what math looks like to these aliens. We look insane. And I love it. We look like a bunch crazy lil' gremlins that are both unpredictable and terrifying. One minute you think that human is sane and the next they're reciting arcane symbols to do basic tasks. Or... what's a 'basic task' from the alien's perspective, anyways. It'd be how their brains work and process things. They just... don't need math. We as humans are a species that recognize patterns and build on them. We have no comprehension of the universe outside of what we experiment with and make of it. All we know is "Apple falls from tree, something's making that apple fall from a tree" and then we build on it. Whereas these hypothetical aliens may look at it as "That's just gravity." When you're a kid you look at something falling down and associate it with a pattern. You think "Things in the air fall down." Whereas an alien child would look at it and already know it's gravity. As... they just understand these things. Only real way I can see this scenario being explained logically is that whereas humans evolved on a planet trying to survive. Not having the specifics how how the universe and physics works being all too important outside of how it could either pose a danger to or be used to our advantage. With the aliens however, never having to have fought for survival in the first place. Maybe competitive evolution is a really fucked up fluke and normally different species on other planets just... vibe without needing each other for sustenance. So pattern recognition wasn't prioritized and their intelligence formed through just... curiosity. Maybe it can exist without conflict and everything needing a downside is just a human perspective... Another explanation I don't like quite as much as the other one is that after so much progression in their species aliens modified their brains to not rely on pattern recognition. Unlocking them in a way. This is also cool but the first one I came up with is just more creative and appealing to me.

The difference between truly knowing a thing and trying to figure it out. Like... the idea of aliens evolving senses that can just... *see* and *think of * things as they are is so damn cool to me. Of course though, in my example this'd mean the downside of being easily tricked and confused by our standards. We as humans recognize patterns and can build on them in a way that doesn't quite conform with reality. In a way we made up our own reality. This may fuck with the alien's heads a bit. Our perceptions would be so damn inaccurate that we'd just confuse them most of the time. We'd come off as insane and also dangerous. Of course though... this is all speculation and just my ramblings. It's a cool concept to me.

Not to mention that by this logic the mere existence of earth having animals that kill each other would give aliens an existential crisis and make them not wanna have anything to do with our planet. It'd be their version of Cthulhu. We'd be the incomprehensible horror to them. Of course... we're very comprehensible. But that'd be the scary part for the aliens. We're so entirely foreign and fucked up by their standards that truly seeing us as we are would contradict everything they've ever known about the universe. Comprehending us is so simple... but also so horrifying. So they'd bar us off and actively destroy knowledge of us because they simply don't want a hand in it. And by extension what is from *our* perspective an incomprehensible Lovecraftian style horror would be so out of reach and alien to them that they simply... wouldn't get it. All it'd be to them is a way to further understand us. Which I doubt they'd want to do.

This... would be my incredibly negative analysis on the implications of aliens not needing math. Yw :3 I love building on subjects in a dark and fudged up way. If anything it can also be just the aliens going "Huh, y'all are weird" without any of the mindbending horror stuff. My mind just goes to these places ^^

Honestly the idea of different sentient species just... cooperating and vibing with each other is also very cool. I remember one story where humanity befriended the alien space bug hive mind. It was awesome.

[honeytonedhottie]

how to curate ur own skincare routine (a guide)⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🛁💕

welcome to honey's beauty school where we'll learn about how to take care of and beautify ourselves 💖, today's topic SKINCARE. this is going to be structured as an informative post and after you read this you'll be ready to build a skincare routine thats gonna give you fabulous results...💬🎀

KNOW YOUR SKIN TYPE ;

literally the most important aspect of skincare and if u have never gotten into skincare before, THIS is where you start. knowing ur skin type is the foundation on which u can start building a routine and learning about whats best for your skin.

theres oily, combination, dry, sensitive and normal skin types. another thing that is crucial to know before building a skincare routine is skin conditions. (eg. pimples, rashes, inflammatory etc) if ur unsure about any of these things consult a dermatologist or conduct some of ur own research and determine both ur skin type and any skin conditions before we go any further.

SKINCARE ORDER ;

oil cleanser -> reg cleanser -> exfoliator -> toner -> serum -> moisturizer -> SPF. of course you don't have to do ALL of these every single day, but if you have everything in this line-up you should be good. im a firm believer in minimalistic skincare because thats what gave me the best results. simplicity is the highest form of luxury.

but yeah as long as u have everything mentioned here you should be good, just use it as needed. but the order in which u apply ur skincare is SO so important. because products have different molecular sizes that penetrate at different depths in the skin. some little things that can help ur products soak into ur skin better can include ->

waiting 45 seconds between steps so that the product u just applied can soak into ur skin

SPF daily (non-negotiable)

morning routine (simple and gentle preferably) evening routine (stronger and more repair focused)

in regards to the last bullet point, im going to explain why i think of morning and evening skincare routines in the way that i do. first of all, its just not practical to be putting on lots of skincare in the morning. like theres no reason you should be oil cleansing in the morning unless u slept with makeup on your face which you should NOT be doing anyways.

second of all, using stronger more repair focused skincare in the evening means that those products can soak into your skin overnight and you'll wake up all glowy and pretty. plus walking around all day with a face that feels heavy and greasy from skincare products just doesn't sound pleasant whatsoever.

also if u use an exfoliant during your morning skincare and then you go out into the sun, thats just a wicked combo and your gonna be all irritated and in pain and its just not hot...💬🎀

DOUBLE CLEANSING ;

double cleansing is the proper way to wash ur face. oil cleanser breaks down the dirt and oils from the day and regular cleansers clean you off after and give u that squeaky clean finish. it's literally just (oil cleanser -> reg cleanser -> clean face)

when it comes to oil cleansing, you have plenty of options. micellar water, oil cleanser, cleansing balm. for regular cleansers theres gel cleansers, hydrating/exfoliating cleansers and everything in between. for the second cleanse, go with whatever option is suited to your specific needs.

AS A COMBINATION SKIN GIRLIE...

as a combination skin girly i tend to go for oil cleansers thats very light like the CENTELLA light cleansing oil. then i'll use a very mild cleanser...💬🎀

like the heartleaf anua cleanser or the ceraVe facial foaming cleanser depending on what my skin needs that day. its all about balance when you have combination skin because u dont wanna over-strip the dry parts of your skin or leave the oily zones greasy. i rly love hydrating toners and a lightweight serum in a rotation, like yess ma'am.

(hyaluronic acid, niacinimade etc) nothing too much just products that are there to maintain my skin barrier and keep my skin healthy and happy. and when it comes to moisturizing i love water based moisturizers (i use the tatcha water cream oil-free pore minimizing refillable moisturizer). its so lightweight but gives me such a JUICY and glassy finish. and for sunscreen i use the beauty of joseon rice sunscreen because it doesn't leave a white cast and it has enough SPF in it.

FINAL THOUGHTS ;

skincare doesn't have be twelve steps long to be effective. to do skincare properly is to know what your skin needs and to be consistent. its actually really easy once you have those two things. take your time, learn ur skin and treat it with love. stay glowy, xoxo, beauty professor honey 🍯

[theconcealedweapon]

I hope you don't mind if I ask, and if you do feel free to delete this ask! I saw on your bio that you added former incel, and well let's just say that I know very many interesting people that I unfortunately can't just cut contact from. I was wondering what changed your perspective on things, and how, you would say, I can change others perspectives?

if that's too personal, don't worry about answering :) hope you have a great day nonetheless! (and if you do answer, thank you very much :) )

I became an incel because I grew up as an undiagnosed autistic, so I had struggles that no one understood. Since I didn't understand the source of the struggles, it was very easy to believe that my struggles were from being male and that women were the problem. I trusted pickup artists, which was very easy to do because they were the only ones who treated socializing like a science instead of giving oversimplified advice like "talk to people" or assuming that fear and lack of confidence is the only problem. Pickup artists promote anger toward women by making it seem like women are intentionally condemning men to a life of loneliness in order to feed their massive egos.

If you're hoping to prevent others from being incel, the solution is to directly refute the reason why he became incel in the first place. He likely has a legitimate source of his struggles that he's completely justified in being angry about and that propaganda convinced him to blame on women. Many bigots and abusers in general are people with legitimate anger who are misdirecting it. If you find that source, you can help him direct his anger to where it belongs.

Especially if he's autistic, he likely has struggled to explain things for his whole life. Make sure you understand what he's saying before you give advice. If you jump to conclusions and give advice without understanding what's actually happening, you'll only further remind him that no one understands him.

Since he had limited interaction with people and since he was frequently misunderstood, he likely started trusting an unreliable source of information. Maybe he listens to pickup artists. Maybe he copies what he sees others doing and misses important details. Maybe he copies what he saw on TV without realizing that many patterns on TV are caricatures. If this happens, the solution is to directly refute the source. It's not as simple as "don't listen to them". He needs to know exactly what parts they're wrong about.

Your safety comes first, so if you feel like you must coddle him in order to prevent him from lashing out at you, that is okay. But you won't be doing him a service by doing that. What he needs is an accurate understanding, and coddling him would only throw that off. It's okay to aggressively confront him if he's saying or doing something wrong. But make sure it's clear exactly what parts he's doing wrong, and make sure he's not just accidentally misphrasing something.

Also, accept that you may not be able to change his mind. This is especially true if he's well into adulthood, since that would mean he's had more of a choice in who he is. I was an incel as a teenager. Also, while many incels are autistic, not all are.

I used he/him pronouns because of personal experience and because men are much more likely to be targeted with the same propaganda. If you wish to explain these things to women, it would probably be better to seek advice from women.

[thevalleyisjolly]

I think the Ghorman Front rebels are a tragic and brutally important exploration of individualism in resistance movements. The thing is, multiple characters from Cassian to Vel and Cinta warn them and us about the Front's approach to rebellion, about their lack of broader thinking and their unwillingness to follow orders. They're caught up in the righteousness of their cause and the terrible wrongs done to them by the Empire, they yearn to be saviours against injustice and specifically the injustice that the Empire has inflicted on them...and they can't see beyond that, beyond their own individual experiences of pain and their own individual desire to resist.

It's important to say here that the pain and injustice which fascism inflicts upon people is real, that in the story the characters' experiences with the cruelty and brutality of the Empire are legitimate and immediate for them. But particularly when it comes to the struggle for liberation (and that's not even getting into collective liberation), I think the Ghorman Front rebels are a painful example of what happens when personal experience becomes your entire movement.

It's true, outsiders may not know what exactly what the people of Ghorman have been through. The horrors of the Tarkin massacre, the individual paths and motivations that led each of them to the struggle. But the issue is that that's where the Ghorman rebels have stopped. They can't connect their very real suffering and concerns to the broader suffering and the broader struggle across the galaxy. Their focus is only ever on their own immediate experience- and so they're disappointed, even offended when people like Cassian and Vel and Cinta warn them that their plan is flawed or that they need to follow orders from people who better understand how the enemy works. It doesn't fit into their idea of rebellion - something out of a heroic story, maybe, where a daring group of local guerillas take on a much larger foe through their commitment to a righteous and personal cause. It hasn't crossed their minds that the Empire has put down many rebellions across the galaxy before, that they themselves are not particularly special or unique in cause or tactics or even suffering.

Or maybe it has crossed their minds, and they think they will be the exception. Isn't that how homegrown rebellions win? They know their home in a way that outsiders never will and they have the support of many of their fellow Ghormans and a strong belief in their cause, aren't those the qualities that make or break a successful revolution?

Season 2 so far has explored what it takes and what it costs to resist fascism. Arc 1 showed us one way resistance movements stumble and dissolve through infighting. In Arc 2, we meet characters who are (mostly) united in cause and leadership - the Ghorman Front, the Partisans, Luthen's network. And within this unity is the immense personal pain experienced by every single person as a result of their involvement in the fight. Characters attempt to cope with this cost in different ways, from substance use to reckless behaviour to lashing out.

Without condemnation (because trauma affects people in many ways), what I think we see with the Ghorman Front rebels is that they've retreated in on themselves. Perhaps once, they were a more collective movement - the hotel bellboy tells Cassian that many people showed up to the protest prior to the Tarkin massacre believing in the power and safety of so many people united together. But now, it's centred on the individual. They are going to show the rest of Ghorman that the Empire is lying. They mean to fight an armed struggle because they aren't spineless. Why should they follow orders, especially those of outsiders who don't know what they've been through, what they live with? It's a struggle entirely focused on the self, on their own feelings perhaps of conviction and guilt and powerlessness.

So they ignore advice that their course of action raises many questions. So they ignore orders to leave their weapons and stay in their assigned positions. So the wheel of tragedy turns and they accomplish their goal of stealing the weapons but at a terrible cost. One that will go with them for the rest of their lives and they will never be able to make up.

[willowwindss]

This is all true but I wanted to put some possible solutions down as well:

- Regular doctor check-ups: I know the US isn’t great for visiting doctors in general but it’s still very important to not let unusual things go for too long. And to make sure your doctor always knows everything you’re currently taking. I’ve been lucky with very thorough doctors in the past 7 years or so who have guided me through various mental health hurdles. When I wanted to try antidepressants, my regular doctor suggested trying something another family member had luck with since our similar DNA might mean that type of tablet might work best for us. It did, I had no side effects. She also carries out mental health questionnaires with me every 6 months or so to make sure I’m still feeling okay within myself. A good doctor thinks beyond just “here, take this” so take note of the ones who take their time with you and get to know you a bit.

- Organic or gentle products: There’s some godawful ingredients in mainstream products, in any category. If you can, start switching out household items for simplified or organic alternatives. You never know what might be intoxicating or harming you, or what you could be allergic to. Dishwashing liquid, laundry detergent, perfumes, soaps, skincare. Start thinking about these things. If you can, make the switch. Also don’t heat up and eat food in plastic containers/bowls. Put them in a proper bowl.

- Clean living environment: Dust, dirt, mould, all huge factors into how we feel on a daily basis. Clean your house at least once a month, or more, and DON’T use bleach or dangerous ingredients to do so. Get your house checked for carbon monoxide leaks, get your windows open daily, get the mould out of your shower, stop inhaling dust every time you turn your ceiling fan on. These won’t cause psychosis of course but they won’t help you be any healthier on a daily basis.

- Reduce stress: Stress is a silent killer. You have to figure out a way to ensure stress rarely takes over. No, it doesn’t mean you are hard-working and efficient if you are stressed all the time, if anything it means the opposite. Efficiency would eliminate stress, not create it. You should not be crying after work every day, or feeling sick every Sunday before work. Or passing out from exhaustion. You should know how to unwind, and what things help you feel relaxed. If you don’t know these things, you likely never reach a point of just being, and relaxing. When is the last time you just stopped? Looked around? Took a full deep breath in and out? Had an hour completely to yourself to do anything you want? Does your partner help around the house or do you come home from work to more work? (can’t count the number of permanently stressed women I see living like this…). If you feel like you live underwater, you need to come up for air and tell someone how you feel. Boss, colleague, friend, partner, family member, discord server, your freakin’ dog or cat because they pick up on it too. Tell someone, say something. If you legitimately can’t tell anyone, write it down. Write exactly how you feel, don’t worry about spelling or grammar, then tear the paper up, throw it across the room, whatever you need to do. Your body is a pressure cooker and the more stress you stuff into it, the more it gets ready to explode.

99% of "mysterious disappearances" esp of people in their 20s who start acting weird for 48 hours and then vanish are not mysterious, thats just when a lot of reality-obliterating mental illness tends to kick in and it's pretty easy to get a short circuit in your brain that makes you go family guy death pose in joshua tree national park. it's not any less tragic, it's just a documented phenomenon and not particularly predictable. its a big reason the medical advice is for people with a family history of schizophrenia to completely avoid weed and psychedelics. "people just go crazy sometimes" is a principle of human health that used to be a lot more accepted prior to the american midcentury and to a certain extent thats a healthier way to conceptualize and prepare for the risk, as opposed to the modern assertion that anyone acting weird is dangerous and broken forever.

[veliseraptor]

a couple people expressed some interest in this so I'm going to try noodling on it in a more coherent fashion

The first thing is that - as other people have written about - when constructing a modern AU it is important to think about how characters in a historical or fantasy setting relate to violence in a proportional rather than literal way. MDZS has a setting where killing is more normalized than it generally is in modern society, both on a personal and a societal level.

(This is also why acting as though a fantasy villain blowing up a planet is equivalent to the concept of a real planet being blown up is silly on a level that's not just the equation of fictional and real; it's also a matter of scale in the setting or genre.)

So looking at Xue Yang's propensity for violence in canon as a way to consider how he might behave in a modern setting firstly needs to examine the ways in which that violence is calibrated to his canon setting.

It is definitely true that, even relative to other characters, Xue Yang's violence is marked as beyond the pale and extreme. So it would follow that the same would be true in a modern setting - but my argument is that it's not quite as straightforward as that, because there are certain contextual things about Xue Yang's violence that I think are important to take into consideration.

The first is to note that his most notorious act of extreme violence - the massacre of the Chang Clan - is one that occurs while he is under the protection of the Jin Sect, and he knows it. (In CQL, he gets permission from Wen Ruohan, though it's true that he never invokes that as a defense.) There is every indication that Xue Yang is thoroughly unconcerned about the prospect of getting in trouble for the massacre. Xue Yang isn't acting without being mindful of potential consequences; he's acting in the knowledge that he won't have to deal with them. The second is contextual: who Xue Yang chooses to target, and where. For instance: the people he tricks Xiao Xingchen into killing live in a remote area where he's a little risk of authority intervening. In both cases, Xue Yang is acting under conditions where he's unlikely to face consequences; where his violence is, if not considered acceptable, then something he can get away with.

Xue Yang can be reckless, but that recklessness is tempered by a very strong survival instinct and a recognition of what he needs to do in order to stay free and alive.

So then, to carry this into a modern context, particularly in a setting with a state-sponsored police and a defined legal system: I think that consciousness of the risks he'd be taking with acting violently would be even more acute, particularly because it's likely that he would be existing in a state where he'd come into contact with the legal system early for more minor crimes. Connected with that, there's the fact that the tolerance/acceptance of authority for violence outside of warfare or state acts is significantly lower, so any shielding he might have for acting violently illegally would be much thinner. Xue Yang is aware of the extent of what he can get away with, and "what he can get away with" is less, under a modern legal apparatus, than he could in the decentralized jianghu with its ad-hoc justice system.

When I say that I think Xue Yang's violent tendencies would be tempered by the existence of a modern legal system, I'm absolutely not saying that it's out of respect for that system. (I would hope that'd be obvious.) And I'm not saying that a modern Xue Yang wouldn't still possess violent tendencies (I think he probably would). I just think he's highly motivated to consider the context and targets for his violence in such a way that would keep it much less visible and extreme than it is in canon. There are still acceptable targets. But he's not going to kill a whole family. And I actually think he's likely to stop short of murder in general.

[malsmind]

hello beautiful people! :)

since it’s mental health awareness month, i wanted to come on here and let everyone know that you are seen.

mental health is something that’s very easily overlooked and often not cared about, sadly. it’s a huge struggle and makes life a lot harder for so many people. as someone who’s struggled with mental health issues like anxiety & depression from a very young age, i know how it feels and i want people to know that i understand them and i am always here to talk if anyone ever needs it.

its important to believe in yourself when no one around you does, and that can be hard. it can take a while to learn how to live with these struggles, sometimes it’s nearly impossible, but there’s always something to hold on to. even if it’s the tiniest bit of a happy memory, hope, or the love you receive from the people around you.

if you got up today, you can be proud of yourself. you’re here, and i am proud of you for that.

no matter how hard it gets, remember that one day you can look back on yourself and on those moments where you struggled the most, and be proud of yourself for getting out of that. the strongest thing you can do is ask for help, never hesitate. i am here and i see you, i understand you.

you are loved, you are amazing.

big hugs, and lots of love, malia 𖦹✮⋆˙

[strwberri-milk]

Hi, I love all your posts, specially the love and deepspace ones. Can I ask one where reader's parents is going to marry her off to some guy even though she doesn't like that guy? I feel like all the love interests would flee with her, and I'm specifically interested in Xavier (since he actually said let's elope) but you can add others as well. Kinda like Love Story by Taylor Swify. Feel free to ignore if you don't like it, no biggie.

Xavier immediately just wants to take you with him far, far away from your parents. He has no problem becoming your sole provider and basically becoming your everything as the two of you run off to build a life together. He's known since forever that he wants to be your everything and you're already his so to him, this is the most logical way for things to proceed.

He won't just kidnap you though. Even if he really wants to. He'll sit there and ask you what you want. His hope is that you'll tell him you want him and you're willing to go against the wish of your parents if it means being with him. He wants you and it's very clear that's all he can think about but you need a bit more convincing.

He'll sneak into your room, follow you around until it's safe for you to be with him in public, go on secret dates with you. Whatever it is that he needs to do to make sure you're safe from the ever watchful eye of your parents. He hates that he has to go around like this but he also doesn't care because once he sees you, it's all worth it again.

Everything he does, he does for you and that's a fact. There's no way around it - he absolutely adores you and everything you are. That's why even if you are taking a while to decide, he'll simply suck it up. Being with you is more important to him than rushing your decision to have a definitive answer.

He won't let the wedding go through. Whether it be you two run away before the wedding is planned or he takes you midway through the ceremony - you won't be marrying anybody if it isn't him. You may not even know of his plans until it actually happens, stolen away to begin a whole new life with him.

[kidspawn]

Oh so actually, yeah I will defend early day Adam and Blue and the fact that they dated and that it's crucial to both of them. Not just because it shows us what they both needed in a relationship, and why they didn't work with each other for their conflicting needs (though that is an excellent point and one I attribute to their narrative relevance.) but also because... they're really important to each other?

Adam and Blue meet, and it's when Adam is worried about being judged for who he is and Blue wanting to be wanted (and not just useful which is a concept that breaks me because ahhhhh) and they actually challenge that with each other? Blue is drawn to Adam because while he is attractive, he's also something different - she sees a fray in his jacket, and she likes that he isn't the typical Raven Boy. She likes this aspect of Adam he worries about being judged for. And you can say all you do about how Blue describes him in comparison to something dusty or how she compares him to traits of himself he detests, but while Adam dislikes these things Blue likes this about him. I cannot stress that enough. It was not what Adam needed (this is something Gansey, actually, needed) but it was important.

Blue wants to be wanted, to be around someone who sees her as more than just useful. And, yes, Adam does seem to evaluate her based on how useful she will be to the group, but it's important to note that Adam is drawn to Blue because he wants to be around her. He thinks she's funny. He thinks she's pretty. He legitimately likes her as a person. He seeks her out for physical comfort, not just because she's useful but because he likes being around her, he wants her, he wants her company. There is a lot you can say about how Adam equates usefulness with love and affection and he definitely values Blue based on her usefulness in the group but it's more than that. He envies her ease with which she makes friends, the confidence she has in herself. (Adam + Envy is also a prevalent theme with how he experiences attraction.) Adam genuinely admires Blue as a person. He wants to be around her, appreciates her input and her presence. And that was important to Blue at the moment.

And, yes, the ultimate issue comes into their conflicting needs in a relationship, but I think when it comes to Blue and Adam it's such a beautiful exploration of what a short-term romance brings to teenagers. It's common to explore relationships through these awkward fumbles between what you need in the moment and what you need in the long term. They get those awkward, first relationship jitters and anxieties together, they learn what they both need and value going further into their teen years. And it is messy and complex and all over the place and very hormonal. And that is a really precious thing to explore in a shorter relationship, especially with a friend, and with a person you feel understands you. (Something neither of them had gotten.) Also, if they hadn't dated they wouldn't have brought the group together. Poverty twin rizz, guys. They really carried the first book on their backs.

Anyway, my point is that Blue and Adam together are very valuable to the story, their character arcs, and please know you can give them the respect they deserve without detracting from Bluesey or Pynch or detracting from the significance of their friendships. I actually think if they'd been given more time, that platonic dynamic would've been one of the strongest in the series. Because when you share such a valuable milestone (the horrors of teen dating) you bond on a level many don't understand or relate to. Blue and Adam I love you.