#I really want to find my old works that I made when I was like thirteen so I can read them again

[audioandart]

why do they get to hinge your well-being and survival on anything though. Like you said, 18 year olds don't have the funds to live on their own. Their parents deciding the moment they hit 18 that if they don't do everything perfectly, they're going to be kicked out is nuts. Here's what happened when I turned 18:

I had to go to college (which there was no public transportation for and I can't drive because I'm disabled)

I had to work (which still took months to get going because disabled)

I had to do all the chores (and was the only one doing so because I "had the time" while everyone else was at their 9-5s. This was often while I was supposed to be at class)

This already took at least 10 hours but lets not forget the few hours of homework I had as well. And I had no weekend due to my schedule. It is not unreasonable to want the adult in your house to do these things but my mother also

Refused to take parental controls off any of my devices even tho they actively hindered my school work due to blocking websites I needed (and she would not unblock them) (and I was a grown adult, who she also had no reason to have them to the degree she did when I was younger either. I had literally never done a thing on my devices, as she herself would and does attest)

Get pissed off about the fact I needed to be taken to school even tho she didn't want me to drive. She blamed this on my not finding public transportation. She herself agreed there was none

I was not allowed to have a voice in arguments. Even tho I was an adult (this continued past 18 just for the record) I was not allowed to voice why I had done things or why certain things hadn't worked. I was threatened with "you can leave (I will make you)" and she had on multiple occasions kicked me out to "take a walk". It was a "polite" way of saying gtfo of my house, which she didn't even always bother with. The moment I turned 18 it was fair game to threaten to put me on the streets, because yes, that's exactly where I would've been.

Even tho I contributed payment I was not allowed ownership of my own things. Every single person in the house would come in my room and do what they wanted, would take my things. No one else in the house experienced this. Side note, I also had the only door without a lock.

And throughout all this I was also in constant pain and ill because our world is not made for disabled ppl, which even tho the ppl around me recognized me as such, refused to give me the accommodations they also recognized I needed. I have memory problems. My mother refused to recognize them and claimed I just didn't care. I forgot to take out the trash? I can leave (be kicked out). I didn't finish all the dusting in a few minutes because I'm sick from standing? Doesn't matter. I can leave.

My mom is a great mom. She really is. But the moment I turned 18 it was like this switch was flipped. She was still great but suddenly there was no patience. There was no care for things she had previously cared about. There was also no loosening of the grip she'd had on me my whole life, as I also wasn't allowed to leave the house without her permission. The sad truth is, in the US, parents do not often want you there once you're 18. Even if they love you. So no, they will kick you out. And yes, college and good grades is too much. Your life should not be dependant on your grades (and it is your life). Being homeless WILL fuck you and if you are kicked out it is nigh guaranteed you will be homeless. Who are you going to crash with? All your friends live with their parents. You have nowhere near enough money to live anywhere, the dorms won't accept you especially halfway thru the year, no way are you going to find a roommate situation that fast. Shelters are a whole other issue that I don't even want to get into right now, and they aren't everywhere. You will be homeless. And it will be over your grades. Do you really think that's ok? The world we live in needs serious change before ppl can just be kicked out. It's heartless to say that anything justifies homelessness

i fucking hate people who are like "no one has a right to live alone, just have roommates if you can't afford it, i had them for so long" etc because every single person my age that i know has a horrific roommate/housemate story. i genuinely believe that being able to afford living alone is deeply important for human dignity and also like, sanity, and i also think you should be able to throw your roommate out of a window if needs must

[sinofwriting]

Insane Person - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 667 Summary: Max wants to be sure he can give Pan kids. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the original I ❤️ MILFS fic, before Max finds out Pan’s age. Max is insane btw, this has been a blurb idea since I wrote the original fic and finally it has been written so enjoy, lol.

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

“I’d love to give Logan a sibling or two.”

The words so soft had made his heart speed up as soon as he heard them and now thinking about them, letting them play on repeat.

It’s early in their relationship, though they haven’t yet talked about it yet, no matter how much Max is dying to do so. But Max wants to be the one that she gives Logan siblings with.

Which is why he’s sitting in front of his computer and looking at medical studies.

A lot of it is going over his head. The most schooling he sat through was the first four or five years of it. He can grasp engineering, anything to do with cars and their data, but medical terminology goes over his head.

He powers through, he doesn’t know Pan’s exact age, his mother would smack him over the head if he even thought to ask her age, but she’s got to to be mid to late thirties if not early forties considering Logan is twenty.

The studies say she’d be fine getting pregnant, shouldn’t have trouble conceiving, and his cheeks burn at the word, at the image it puts in his mind. They haven’t quite got their, but they’ve gotten close. They throw out the term geriatric pregnancy which makes him flinch because forty wasn’t old, at least not if you weren’t a driver and to see it be called something like that felt harsh, rude. Another one calls it advanced maternal age which really isn’t any better, but it’s just relieving to see that’s still possible. And then a study mentions that if people are having trouble conceiving that not only does the person birthing need to get checked, but both do and a new panic takes over his brain.

What if when it came time to try, he was the problem? It would really be his luck. Things had been going very well for the past few years, it would be his luck that he couldn’t give the woman he loves more kids.

And Logan wanted siblings, the panic grows as he remembers Logan chiming in that he’d love some siblings. Oh god, what if he failed in giving Logan siblings? He wanted the younger driver to like him, to really like him.

His fingers act quickly, wanting to know how he can know if he can have kids and the results make him blink because it couldn’t be that easy.

He just had to provide a sample in a cup?

Max’s brain struggles to compute that after just reading everything that women have to go through to get their fertility checked.

His hand goes to his phone, he rarely if ever called his doctor, but this was important.

He goes through the motions of confirming he is who he is, wondering how weird it must be for other people to do this for him before he finally gets asked why for the purpose of the appointment.

“I want to check to see if I can have kids.”

“Okay, are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?”

His cheeks burn, “We aren’t trying yet. I just want to make sure that it’s possible on my end.”

“Okay, it’s a simple procedure at our clinic and we could see you in the next three days if that works for you at any time we are open.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few days, Mr. Verstappen.”

He gets the results back five days after his appointment, an email sitting in his inbox, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before finally opening it.

There are words he doesn’t know, ones he doesn’t really want to think about, but there at the end, a note from his doctor that says everything looks great, and he shouldn’t have troubles getting someone pregnant and his fist goes in the air, a quiet but excited yes leaving him.

He could give Logan siblings and Pan more kids, thank fuck.

[meazalykov]

mother who stepped up

stepmom!lena oberdorf x mom!reader

summary: lena accepts you, and the mini-you

warnings: one mention of death, nothing too impactful to the story though. very long fic

you’ve never been one for surprises. your life, at least recently, has been built on carefully crafted routines, ensuring that your two-year-old daughter, macy, is comfortable and happy. 

dating? it was something you thought would come much later—if at all. after coming to terms with your sexuality, you didn’t want to date unti you were reassured that you’d be with the right woman for your daughter. 

here you are, sitting across from lena oberdorf, a suggestion from your well-meaning friends, and even though you like her, there’s something you or your mutual friends haven’t told her yet.

everything had been going smoothly with lena from the start. she was charming, funny, flirtatious, and made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time.

you didn’t think you could get used to someone so effortlessly, but somehow, lena just fit into your life—except for that one secret you hadn’t yet shared.

you’re sitting across from lena at a cozy café, sipping your coffee and listening to her talk about her game against wolfsburg– a club she played many years ago. 

it’s easy to get lost in the sound of lena’s voice, the way her eyes light up when she talks about football. you nod along, smiling as she recounts a funny moment from practice. 

for a while, everything feels perfect—simple, like your lives are in sync. in the back of your mind, you know you will have to tell her about macy. the little mini-you that is currently coloring in her daycare class across munich.

the conversation shifts to lighter topics, and you pull out your phone to check a notification. 

you sit your phone flat on the table and as you’re about to lock the screen, lena leans in, catching a glimpse of the photo that displays on both your home and lock screen. 

your heart skips a beat when you realize what she’s seeing—macy, her chubby little cheeks, dimples, and wild curls staring back at you from the lock screen. 

lena’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering across her face.

“aweee who’s that?” she asks, her tone casual but with a hint of intrigue.

you freeze for a second, unsure how to respond. 

here we go, you think, heart pounding. swallowing hard, you try to brush it off with a light chuckle. 

“oh, that’s little macy.”

lena tilts her head, staring at the screen for a moment longer before locking eyes with you. 

“macy?” she echoes. “is she… your niece or something? she looks just like you.” she smiles, clearly finding the resemblance cute.

you force a small smile, feeling your throat tighten. this is it—the moment you’ve been dreading. 

“uh, no… she’s not my niece.”

“oh,” lena says, looking at you, then back at the picture. 

“then, what, a cousin? a friend’s kid?”

you can see her mind working, trying to make sense of it. your fingers tighten around the edge of your phone, and you finally decide to rip the band-aid off.

“she’s my daughter….”

lena’s eyes widen, her gaze darting back to the screen, then to you. her lips part in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything right away. she stares at the lock screen as if seeing it for the first time, really seeing it.

“your daughter?” she repeats softly, almost like she’s processing the words.

you nod, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. 

“yeah. she’s turning two in a few months. macy’s my little girl.”

for a long moment, lena just looks at the photo, her expression unreadable. you watch as her gaze flickers between the image of macy and you, comparing the two of you. 

“she… she looks just like you,” lena murmurs, her voice almost in awe. 

“i thought she was you for a second, like, as a baby.”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension knotting in your stomach. 

“yeah, she’s basically my mini-me. she’s got my nose and everything.”

lena doesn’t seem to hear your attempt at humor. instead, her brow furrows deeper as she studies the photo. 

“wait, she’s… really your daughter? like, you have a kid?”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. 

“yeah, she’s mine. i know i should’ve told you sooner, but…” you trail off, not knowing how to explain the complexity of it all.

“but why didn’t you?” lena asks, her tone still soft, but there’s something raw in her voice—an undercurrent of emotion that you can’t quite place.

you glance down at your coffee, swirling it absentmindedly. “i didn’t know how,” you admit. 

“i didn’t want to scare you off. most people aren’t exactly thrilled about dating someone with a kid.”

lena leans back in her chair, processing what you’ve said. “you thought i’d be scared off because you’re a mom?”

you shrug, feeling a little defensive but mostly scared. “it’s happened before,” you say quietly. 

“people hear ‘single mom,’ and they run for the hills. i just… didn’t want that to happen again.”

lena is quiet for a moment, her eyes still on the picture of macy. she seems to be absorbing everything, and you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for her to say something—anything.

“is the father around?” lena says her thoughts out loud. 

“oh no no no. um– he didn’t want anything to do with macy. he also passed away shortly after mae turned one. her father and i were never together or even had feelings for eachother– it was just um..” you trail.

“i’m very sorry about that.” lena says, looking up at you before looking back to the photo of your little daughter. 

“oh no don’t apologize.” you say.

there's a pause for a few minutes. its clear that you wanted to switch the topic away from macy’s biological father, who wanted nothing to do with her before his passing anyways. 

lena looks up at you, giving your phone back with her expression softening. 

“you’d thought i’d run?” lena asks, a small, incredulous smile playing on her lips. 

“because of this? because of her?”

you shrug again, not trusting yourself to speak. all your worst fears are bubbling to the surface, and you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the moment it all falls apart.

lena reaches across the table, taking your hand gently in hers. 

“y/n, she’s beautiful,” she says, her voice sincere. “i mean, she really is a little version of you.”

you blink, the words not sinking in right away. “you… you’re not mad?” you ask, your voice trembling just slightly.

lena shakes her head, squeezing your hand. “no, i’m not mad. i just… wish you’d told me sooner. i know we’ve only been official for a week but–” she pauses, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“i get why you didn’t, but… i’m not going anywhere. i like you. and now that i know about macy… i like her too. even if we haven’t met yet.”

the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming, and you feel your eyes welling up. you’ve been bracing yourself for rejection, for lena to tell you this was too much for her. 

though here she is, sitting across from you, holding your hand, and telling you that she’s not going anywhere.

“you’re really okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“more than okay,” lena says, her voice firm but kind. 

“you’re a mom. that’s a part of who you are, and that’s okay with me.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart finally starting to settle. 

“thank you,” you whisper, blinking back the tears. “you don’t know how much that means to me coming from you.”

lena smiles, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go. “so, when do i get to meet this little mini-you?” she asks with a teasing grin.

you chuckle softly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “soon. i just… didn’t want to spring her on you right away.”

“well, now that i know about her,” lena says, leaning back with a playful smirk, “i feel like i’m the one being kept a secret from macy.”

you laugh, the tension between you finally breaking. “i guess we’ll have to fix that soon.”

lena grins, taking another sip of her coffee. “i’m looking forward to it.”

the next day– lena doesn’t text much. you know that she is busy training at bayern but anxiety consumes you. 

your thoughts spiral. maybe she changed her mind and realized that it was too much for her. maybe she’s having second thoughts. 

by mid-afternoon, you’re glued to your phone while macy is with her aunt (your sister), checking for any sign from her. 

nothing comes, and your heart sinks.

as you’re picking macy up from your sisters, your phone finally buzzes. lena’s name flashes across the screen, and you almost drop your keys in your hurry to check it.

lena: hey, can we talk later? i’ve been thinking a lot.

you stare at the message, panic clawing at your chest. thinking doesn’t sound good. you force yourself to respond.

you: sure. what time?

the reply is almost instant. 

lena: i can come over tonight?

you hesitate. having her over… that means she’ll meet macy, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet. you also know you can’t keep her at arm’s length forever. you type back quickly.

you: yes, come at 7.

you spend the rest of the afternoon trying not to overthink it. 

as soon as macy is fed and bathed, your nerves start creeping back. you’re pacing the living room, glancing at the clock, when the doorbell rings.

macy, sitting on the couch with her stuffed miffy bunny and fluffy blanket, perks up. 

“mama, door!”

you smile, ruffling her hair. 

“stay here, baby,” you say softly, walking to the door. 

you open it, and there she is—lena, standing on your doorstep wearing a black outfit along with a grey beanie, looking as unsure as you feel.

“hey,” she says, giving you a small smile.

“hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in. you’re about to close the door when macy toddles over, clutching her miffy bunny in her small hands. lena’s eyes immediately land on her, and she smiles.

“this must be macy,” lena says, her tone soft and warm.

you nod, watching as macy stares up at lena with her wide (reader’s color) eyes. 

“yeah, this is her.”

lena crouches down to macy’s level, holding out her hand. “hey, macy. i’m lena.”

macy looks at you for reassurance before shyly reaching out to shake lena’s hand. 

“miffy bunny,” she says, showing off her stuffed toy.

lena chuckles softly. “that’s a cool bunny.”

you watch the exchange, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. lena looks so natural with macy, and it’s a sight you weren’t prepared for. 

you clear your throat, trying to shake off the wave of emotion.

“so, um, you said you wanted to talk?” you ask, motioning for lena to follow you to the couch.

she nods, standing up and giving macy one last smile before sitting beside you. macy toddles back to the couch, climbing up and sitting between your legs, still clutching her bunny as her small arms hug your waist.

“yeah,” lena says, glancing between you and macy. “i’ve been thinking a lot since last night.”

you nod slowly, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“i know this is a lot,” she continues, her voice gentle but steady. 

“and i understand if you’re worried about how i’ll fit into your life, into macy’s life, but… i want to try.”

you blink, taken aback. “you do?”

lena nods, reaching out to gently take your hand. 

“yeah. i mean, i didn’t expect this either, but i really like you, y/n. and if macy’s a part of your life, then i want to be a part of that too.”

you sit back, still reeling from the way the conversation unfolded. the tension that had knotted up your stomach starts to loosen, but you can’t help feeling the need to set some boundaries—just to be sure lena knows what this really means. 

it’s too early in the relationship to assume anything, and you don’t want to put any pressure on her, especially when it comes to macy.

taking a deep breath, you meet lena’s eyes. 

“i just want to be clear about something,” you say softly. 

“i don’t expect anything from you when it comes to macy. you’re not obligated to her, and i’d never force any duties on you. it’s still really early in our relationship, and i don’t want you to feel like you have to step into a role you’re not ready for. if you just want to date me, that’s okay. i mean it. however i just want you to understand that in a case between you vs. macy– i’ll always choose macy.”

lena watches you closely, her brow furrowing slightly as she listens. she leans forward, resting her arms on the table, and shakes her head gently. 

“y/n, you don’t have to put up walls.”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of her gaze. “i’m not putting up walls,” you explain quietly. 

“i just… i want to be fair. macy’s is the biggest part of my life, but she’s my responsibility, not yours. i don’t want you to feel like you have to take on so much at once. i don’t want you to feel trapped.”

lena sits back in her chair, exhaling slowly. her eyes soften as she takes in your words. 

“first of all, macy isn’t a trap,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. 

“she’s your daughter. i don’t see that as something to run from.”

your heart stumbles at her words, but you try to stay grounded. “but it’s still a lot for you,” you press gently. 

“being with me means being with macy too, and that’s a lot to ask of anyone. especially this soon.”

lena reaches across the table again, her hand finding yours, warm and steady. “i get what you’re saying,” she begins, her voice calm but sincere. 

“and i appreciate that you don’t want to rush things or put pressure on me. but, y/n, macy is a part of you. she’s part of your life, and if i want to be with you, that means i’m choosing to include her too.”

she squeezes your hand, her eyes locked on yours. “i’m not saying i’m trying to be her mom right away, or that i know how all of this is supposed to work. but i want to figure it out. because macy is important to you, and that makes her important to me.”

your heart swells, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. you hadn’t expected this, not so soon, and certainly not with such certainty in her voice. 

it’s like lena had already made the decision in her heart before you even started this conversation.

you blink back the tears, swallowing hard as you nod. “i… i didn’t know if you’d feel that way.”

“of course i do,” lena says softly, her thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. 

“i’m not scared off by you being a mom, y/n. it doesn’t make me want this any less.” 

you take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the depth of her words. “i’ve never had anyone say that to me before,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. 

“it’s always been the reason people walk away.”

lena’s eyes soften even more, and she moves her chair closer to you, her hand never leaving yours. “well, i’m not them,” she says simply, her voice steady and sure. “i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere.”

the emotions well up in you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you look down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. she’s serious. she’s really serious.

“thank you,” you finally whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for… for staying.”

lena smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

macy, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, leans against your arm, yawning as she starts to doze off. 

you glance down at her, then back at lena, your heart full in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

from that moment on, things between you and lena shift. she starts coming over more, spending time not just with you but with macy too. 

at first, macy is a little shy around her, but lena is patient, never pushing too hard, just gently easing her way into your daughter’s life. it doesn’t take long before macy is running to the door to greet lena with a grin, her little arms reaching up for a hug.

the first time macy calls her "obi”,  your heart skips a beat. it's a simple moment—you're all sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by toys, when macy tugs on lena's sleeve, her big eyes looking up at her expectantly.

"obi, play?" she asks, holding out a mermaid barbie.

lena grins, taking the truck from macy. "of course liebe."

watching them together, you can't help but smile. it’s becoming clearer each day—lena’s not just here for you. 

she’s here for macy too. sometimes you joke that she is only here for macy.

as the years goes by, lena becomes more and more involved in your life. she starts joining you for bedtime routines, helping with bath time, reading macy her favorite stories as she grows older. 

after lena, macy, and you move into an apartment together— lena is for the tantrums, the messy dinners, the sleepless nights. sometimes, she will take the initiative so you can rest. the more time she spends with macy, the more it feels like she belongs in your little family.

three years after the important conversation, your life with lena feels like a dream. 

macy is five now, full of energy and curiosity, and lena has been there for all of it—every scraped knee, every preschool recital, every bedtime story. your home is filled with laughter and warmth, the life you never imagined you’d have when you were raising macy on your own. 

now, as you sit together on the couch, macy fast asleep in her room, lena leans into you, her fingers tracing patterns on your hand. she’s quiet, more thoughtful than usual, and you can sense something’s on her mind. she glances at the engagement ring on your finger, the same ring you’ve been admiring for months now, and then turns to you with a serious expression.

“i was thinking,” lena says quietly, her voice soft in the dim light.

“about what?” you ask, turning to look at her.

she hesitates for a moment, her hand pausing on your arm. “about macy. and… about us.”

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your voice steady. “what about us?”

“i know it’s still early but…” she says, her voice careful, 

you blink, processing her words. “but…?”

she takes a deep breath. “once we get married i’ll be macy’s stepmom. something i’ve been thinking about for a while. however i don’t want to wait until then. i want to be a mom to macy. if you’ll let me.”

the weight of her words settles over you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you’d always hoped, deep down, that lena would want to be a part of macy’s life, but hearing her say it out loud—it feels overwhelming in the best possible way.

“i know i’m not her biological mom, and i’ll never try to replace that, but… i love her, y/n. i love both of you. and if you’re ready for that, i’d like to be her mom too.”

the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and you reach up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. “we’d love that, obi.” you whisper. “we’d love that.” you repeat in awe.

when macy starts calling her “mama lena,” after she turns six– your heart nearly bursts with love.

macy is seven now, and the bond between her and lena has only grown stronger over the years. she clings to lena in a way that sometimes surprises you—like she’s always seeking her approval or comfort. 

it’s been that way ever since lena officially adopted her after turning thirty-one, and you and lena got married. 

you remember that day so vividly, the moment the judge declared that lena was now macy’s legal mother. the joy on lena’s face, the way macy had leaped into her arms, calling her “mama” with such pure excitement, filled your heart with pride and love.

it wasn’t long after when lena got the call—an offer from chelsea. it was a huge opportunity, one that meant she’d be competing in the women’s super league. after a lot of late-night talks and some serious decision-making, lena accepted the offer, which meant the three of you were moving to london. 

the change was exciting, something fresh and new for all of you. macy was thrilled at the idea of living in a new city, and as for you, the thought of starting a new chapter together made you incredibly happy.

in london, lena is the person macy runs to for almost everything. scraped knees, homework help, even just to ask if she can have a snack—lena is her go-to. most days, it fills you with happiness to see them so close, to know that macy has someone who loves her so much. 

sometimes, like today, you can’t help but feel a little sting.

you’d been in the middle of getting macy ready for school. she was in a hurry as usual, fidgeting in her seat while you knelt to help her tie her shoes. 

before you could finish, she pulled her foot away, laughing. “no, no, mama lena does it better!” she giggled, her bright smile lighting up her face.

you laughed too, even though the words pricked at your heart. “oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“guess i’ll need to practice, huh?”

macy just grinned, her curls bouncing as she wiggled her toes. “yeah, you should! don’t worry, you’re still good at other stuff!”

you smiled, ruffling her hair. “well, i’m glad i’m still useful for something.”

she giggled again, completely unaware of how her innocent words had stirred something in you. 

you shoved the feeling aside quickly, focusing instead on making her laugh as you pretended to dramatically fumble with her shoes. her laughter filled the room, her curls tumbling down her back as she leaned forward in her chair, watching you with bright eyes. 

it wasn’t until you were dropping her off at school that the feeling crept back in, like a quiet ache in the pit of your stomach.

it wasn’t that you were jealous—at least, you didn’t think you were. you loved that macy and lena were so close. you’d always hoped that one day macy would have a strong bond with lena, and seeing it unfold so naturally had been like a dream come true. 

still, moments like this made you wonder if you were slowly being edged out, if macy was starting to see lena as the “cool” mom while you were just… the other one that happened to look like her.

you tried not to dwell on it too much. lena had been nothing but supportive, always making sure you knew how important you were to both of them. and really, you were happy. 

lena had embraced being a mother to macy in every way—going to parent-teacher conferences, staying up late to help with school projects, even helping macy with her football in-between training at chelsea. 

that was another thing: football.

macy had recently started showing a serious interest in the sport, much to lena’s delight. she idolized her mama, always asking about drills and tactics, begging to go to practice with her. 

one afternoon, after watching one of lena’s games, macy had turned to you both, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“i want to play football too!” she’d said, bouncing on her toes.

lena’s face had lit up with pride. “you do, huh? well, we can definitely make that happen.”

since then, lena had been working on getting macy into training, talking to coaches and setting up practice sessions in your backyard. you’d watch them sometimes, lena patiently teaching macy how to pass the ball, how to position herself. 

the way macy looked up at lena, so full of admiration, always made you smile. you were thrilled that your daughter had someone like lena to look up to, someone who could teach her the things you never could.

and yet, in the quieter moments, when macy would run to lena after a long day, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of sadness. it wasn’t that macy didn’t love you—she did, of course.

there was something different about the way she clung to lena, like lena was her whole world. you couldn’t blame her. lena was a natural with her, always knowing just the right thing to say or do to make macy feel safe and loved.

you’d catch yourself watching them sometimes, a soft smile on your face as you listened to their conversations, the easy way they communicated without needing to say much. you’d hide your feelings behind a joke, like the time macy had joked about lena being better at making breakfast, and you’d playfully said, “well, guess i’ll just stick to making the coffee then.” macy had laughed, and you’d felt the sting lessen, pushing it to the back of your mind.

around this time, you and lena had started talking more seriously about having another child. 

this time, you would carry, using lena’s egg along with a donor. you’d been through a few consultations, and after what felt like a whirlwind of planning and waiting, the IVF procedure was finally successful. 

you were pregnant with another little girl.

the joy that filled your heart was indescribable. the idea of adding to your family, of giving macy a sibling, was something you’d dreamed about for so long. and now, with the news confirmed, it was time to tell macy. 

you weren’t sure how she’d react—she’d always been so used to being the only one, the center of attention. but you were hopeful that she’d be excited.

one evening, you and lena sat macy down, her favorite blanket draped over her lap as she snuggled on the couch between you. lena’s arm was around your shoulders, her hand resting gently on your belly, already slightly swollen with the new life growing inside.

“munchkin,” lena said softly, looking at macy with a warm smile. “we have some big news for you.”

macy looked up, her curiosity piqued.

“what is it?”

you took a deep breath, smiling as you leaned forward a little. “you’re going to be a big sister, sweetheart.”

macy’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she just stared at you, her mind clearly racing to process what you’d said. 

“a big sister?” she repeated, her voice uncertain.

“that’s right,” lena added, squeezing your shoulder gently. “there’s a baby in here.” she gestured to your belly. “a little sister for you.”

macy’s face scrunched up, her expression a mix of confusion and hesitation. “but… i like being the only one,” she admitted, her voice small.

you shared a glance with lena, both of you understanding her hesitation. “we know, sweetheart,” you said gently. 

“and you’ll always be our first, our special girl. but having a sister means you’ll have someone to play with, someone who’ll look up to you, someone who’ll need your help.”

macy was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about what you’d said. her little fingers twisted in the edge of her blanket, her brow furrowed as she processed the news. you could tell she wasn’t sure how to feel.

“and you’ll still get to do everything you love,” lena added. “football, school, everything. this just means there will be more love in the house. and maybe, when she’s old enough, you can teach her some football moves.”

macy’s eyes brightened a little at that, the idea of teaching someone something she loved appealing to her. “i get to teach her football?”

you smiled, nodding. “absolutely. you’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

slowly, macy’s frown faded, replaced by a tentative smile. “okay,” she said, her voice soft but a little more certain. 

“i’ll be the best big sister ever. but only if i get to teach her football.”

lena laughed, pulling macy into a tight hug. “deal.”

and just like that, your family took another step forward, your heart full of love as you prepared for the next chapter in your lives—together.

masterlist

[umemiyan]

𝙄𝙉 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙄𝙁𝙐𝙇 𝘿𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙎.

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗧𝗔 𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗢𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / incest / noncon somnophilia (char. receiving) / so like… kinda dom!reader if you wanna look at it like that, but it’s not really a hard dynamic in this / unprotected piv / some codependent vibes / reader has a vagina but there are no other physical or gendered descriptors / 3.2k words

notes: this was supposed to be for kinktober with the prompts incest + somnophilia, and i'm a whole month late but here we are!!! once again i have managed to have no chill and have overdone it a bit so it took me forever. but enjoy! thank you to everyone who originally voted in my kinktober polls <3 (moon dividers by cafekitsune)

He never sleeps as well as when he’s with you, and that has never been less than fact.

The dark circles under his eyes had settled in after years of strife and the both of you growing “too old” to sleep side by side, at least according to your family. It wasn’t healthy, they said. You needed to learn to respectively mature on your own, they said.

Yuuta tried. He did. Although he had been steered away from his one shining beacon of light in a world full of darkness, what sort of brother would he be if he held you back from growing into the best version of yourself? To be selfish and indulge in his childish wants and needs was a frequent guilty desire of his, but he ultimately forced himself to refrain as much as he could manage.

He never slept well after that; not unless he could find an excuse to sneak into your bed, or you sneak into his. You were a sedative every time, lulling him to sleep with the warmth of your breath and body, familiar closeness stripping the worries of the world away so that he could rest. Nothing else ever worked so perfectly, even now that you both have grown.

That’s why, after the conclusion of a family gathering, sneaking into each other’s presence was a no-brainer.

Yuuta had joined you in the guest bedroom of your childhood home to decompress after his inability to do so alone. The both of you had taken on many responsibilities throughout the day, and while he certainly enjoyed spending time with the family, a restful night alone with you was what he craved the most by the end of it. Thankfully, having felt the same way, you didn’t hesitate to raise the covers and let him slide under until you both chit-chatted yourselves to sleep.

Now, Yuuta’s arms keep you close with their gentle grip around your waist, having at some point pulled you into him until the tips of your noses are mere inches apart. You’ve fluttered out of sleep for a moment to see him resting peacefully with all the grace of an angel, wearing his slumber so effortlessly as though it never dares to evade him.

But it does, because the darkened skin beneath his eyes has made its home there for longer than you can recall, telling all who will listen that he is tormented by the absence of something. Whether it be proper brain chemistry, the responsibility to maintain a schedule, or simple peace of mind, no one knows as he never divulges, but Yuuta is haunted by lack, and not even your keen sense of sibling intuition can sniff out just what it is that he needs. Or so you believe, at least.

Although he receives the brunt of it, you can feel it too—the ache. It settles deep within every crevice to remind you of its presence whenever you dare to forget, no matter how often you seem to shove it away with success. It always rattles your bones until Yuuta smiles in your direction like the sun revealing itself from a place behind the clouds, and you are reminded of fulfillment. 

Oh, how he is your sunshine; your magnificent ray of light. It warms the cavity of your chest even as you lie here in the darkness.

Fingertips trace over the matching darkness beneath his eyes and down the slope of his nose to the outline of his pink, parted lips. He doesn’t even stir, too weighed upon by the thick blanket of sleep to pay any mind. You are delirious with awe, stricken by the heavenly beauty of the one who quells the ache. Does he know you love him so? Is he aware of the radiant beauty that compels you to draw closer like a moth to the flame?

Will he know if you lean forward to press an indulgent kiss upon his lips?

It’s a gentle peck that makes his brow twitch with unconscious curiosity. Were you privy to his dreams, you’d see that you’ve entered them, breathing life into his senses with every careful touch until his skin grows hot.

You fear you’ve woken him once his hips stir, but sleep pervades even as Yuuta’s breath seems to tickle your skin with more frequency, every quickened beat of his heart causing the more shallow rising of his lungs. You dare to press your lips to his once more, desperate for the satisfaction of his reaction, and you aren’t disappointed—Yuuta’s embrace tightens around you, breath hitching discreetly like a startled angel’s, and it’s when his hips roll forward again that the hardness pressing against your lower half becomes evident.

He dreams of your gentle kisses, of your breath gracing his skin, and he returns the favor in his mind now that he knows you’ll allow it. It will be a source of shame once he awakens, but dreams of this caliber are few and far between, something to be cherished in the moment without guilt or hesitation. As if he even has a choice.

Carefully, you hike your leg up over his hip to press yourself closer to the part of him that strains against fabric. You want to feel intertwined, strange as it might be; you want to infiltrate his mind like he does yours, sense his want and need, try and be privy to things that cannot possibly be known. But it’s so easy to be close like this, as though it were always meant to be, or always had been.

He’s warm between your hips. Real. The antidote to a deepseated loneliness and need to be with another, even if only in superficial touch. But will you settle for that?

No. You are greedy.

Yuuta, still captured in a dream, is somewhat easy to maneuver onto his back with a few gentle pushes, his body desperate to mold to yours until you are perfectly perched atop him. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, and you can almost feel his warm cock twitch through his pajamas beneath the new weight of your hips. The adjacent scenario in his mind grows increasingly realistic while you grow hungrier for every facet of his reaction.

Does he dream of you? Does he long for the sensation of your bodies finding harmony with one another like you do? You can’t say you haven’t imagined it yourself prior, mind drifting to the taboo when presented with his matured figure, though it still holds the same heat of familiarity from when you would curl up next to each other in your youth. It’s the ultimate combination of love and desecration that satisfies this abhorrent hunger you’ve found yourself plagued by, and even if it causes everything around you to come tumbling down, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

Yuuta’s breath hitches once more, brow furrowing as you rock yourself down against him with care. You know he deserves an undisturbed rest, even if the one he dreams of isn’t you, so you daren’t wake him now of all times. You’ll aid in his unconscious need while also indulging in your own.

You grind your hips a number of times, but the results are consequently underwhelming. The softness with which you must do it to avoid waking him is to blame, your lust being inhibited to prevent you from moving against him with the entirety of your animalistic need. 

Yuuta, however, grunts with pleasure at the friction while you selfishly yearn for more, so after diligently working the waistband of his pants to sit a few inches lower on his hips, you pull your panties to the side and press your wet cunt directly upon the bulge in his briefs.

You shiver at the contact, resisting the urge to moan out loud into the quiet air as Yuuta’s cock rubs against you through the thinnest of layers. He’s leaky and throbbing below your clit as it drags once, twice, three times over him in an establishing rhythm, fabric growing wetter with each pass you make and his gentle moans escaping with greater frequency. You bite down on the collar of your shirt to refrain from mimicking his vocalization, but upon another scan with your eyes, you recall that there are other things you could be doing with your mouth.

Yuuta’s throat is exposed as his head lolls off to the side on the pillow, and you lean down to busy yourself with reverent kisses upon the sensitive skin. Your hips stutter in their movement now that you have succumb to the distraction of sucking on his neck, but Yuuta doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he mewls and whines so decadently in his sleep that you are compelled to make the regrettable decision of sucking until there is a mark that reveals itself once you remove your lips.

And oh, does he look gorgeous adorning it.

You pull back to admire his needy image, but Yuuta wriggles and presses his hips up unto yours, apparently dissatisfied with your absence and seeking something more, only to make you dizzy with arousal and irrational need. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing to you, but it’s guiding you down yet another path of no return. Your beautiful angel is sending you straight to the pits of hell, and he isn’t even fully aware.

(If you could know of his dreams, you’d see that he feels quite similarly about you.)

The wet mess of Yuuta’s briefs are pulled down until his aching cock can spring out and dribble a string of precum onto his lower belly. There, a trail of dark hair paints the milky skin with masculinity, and you admire the sight for a good moment before sliding your finger over his wet tip until the muscles in his stomach twitch with delight.

Yuuta is so responsive and so malleable, easy to take in his sleep now that he feels safe enough to fall into a slumber as delectable as this. You are almost stricken finally with guilt for taking advantage of such a level of trust, but even in his unconscious state, it feels as though Yuuta is pleading for you to take him back as your most cherished thing, the one you are closest with and know more of than anyone or anything else. You feel a certain beckoning towards making up for all the years you were forced to maintain an artificial distance, to pretend as though you didn’t ache for the only person who knew you so deeply and so truly.

Stifling the hunger only made it worse in the end, because now Yuuta’s cock weeps when you stroke it and slide it between your wet folds, signaling to you that this is somehow the right decision. Perhaps it’s a matter of delusion rather than truth, but sinking down onto him fills you with nothing but pure, unfettered gratification.

You don’t hesitate to make him bottom out inside you, eager to be overwhelmed by him in every way, even if it forces a whimper to spill from your lips in the process. Yuuta responds in kind as the snug fit allows a cascade of warmth to wash over him, blissfully unaware that he is now closer to you than he ever has been, and that he cries out in his sleep over it. It’s diabolical, really, but your dear brother wears pleasure so beautifully on his face that you can’t help but fall deeper into your pit of depravity.

A wet noise makes itself known amongst heavy breaths when you raise yourself up and drop back down on his length. It’s an act so indiscreet that you can only accomplish it twice more before Yuuta’s moans shift into noises with more presence, brows furrowed, body shuffling, and eyes cracking open to be met with the sight of your hips flush against his, cock constricted by the same blinding heat he felt seconds before waking up.

Eyes growing wide, his heart leaps out of his chest with a sudden surge of panic. “What are you—hah—d-doing—?1”

Yuuta is cut off by the palm of your hand slamming over his mouth to dampen the noise, his sounds of pleasure and surprise reaching a volume that makes you wary in a house in which you are not alone.

“Shh, Yuuta, shh…” you warn in a whisper, allowing him a second to process the danger of letting his voice raise too high, all while keeping your hips moving steadily against his. 

Gradually, the panicked breathing through his nose settles to something more manageable, and Yuuta’s eyes roll into the back of his skull with a muffled grunt. “Does it feel good?” you ask, and he nods his answer, having further transitioned from alarm to living out the sinking, heavenly feeling of being coupled with you in his dream. 

The morality of it all claws painfully at the back of his skull, but Yuuta is too inundated with the physical and spiritual need that has consumed you both to pay anything else much attention. He conforms to your will because it aligns so well with his own.

“Can you be quiet?”

He nods again, seeking a firm grip against your hips as you hesitantly remove your hand from his mouth. Yuuta swallows down a breath and refrains from speaking despite all the thoughts that race through his head, and you are pleased to see how receptive he is to this unthinkable act. 

It could certainly be a fawn response from a peacekeeper such as himself, but you know he is capable of putting his foot down once a certain line has been crossed. He could throw you off him in an instant if he truly felt so deeply wronged by your actions, yet he chooses to stay nestled between your thighs and buried deep in your cunt after you take him over and over, because he wants this.

Doesn’t he?

The look in his teary eyes says he does, and so do the ragged breaths, the quivering lip between his teeth to bite back a moan, the way you swear he almost aids in guiding you up and down his length…

Yuuta, for the moment, looks to be as enthralled as you are by this disastrous development, and that reaffirming image alone will accompany you every day until you have at least one foot in the grave.

He is porcelain and pristine, framed by pillows and moonlight and looking a touch too fragile as though he might break with the next slam of your hips, but you know him to be hardy after all that has tried to chip away at him throughout his short life. Yuuta’s strength in love and spirit is as strong as the pale fingers that dig into your flesh, and he has decided amidst it all to be yours for this moment; a blessing bestowed upon you that could make the gratitude utterly burst forth from your chest.

You want to spill your glee upon his lips, have him know that you are thankful for his gratuity even if this is the first and only time he will give it, so you lean down to steal him for another kiss that he returns tenfold. Yuuta’s lips are more alive in his waking state and more than happy to drink in your taste between shaking breaths, the intimacy of having your tongue slide along his lower lip twisting the tightness in his gut to where it could rupture at any moment.

There’s a muffled whimper as he chases your hips, instincts unveiled but not more so than the part of him that has yearned for this for far longer than he can even recall. Now that it has been offered to him on a silver platter, he will devour and cherish it for the feast that it is, even if he doesn’t last long enough to savor every morsel to the extent he would like.

“I want you to cum,” you breathe, leading him ever closer towards that dangerous edge as if you know what sullies his mind. To hear those words in your voice, even if in a whisper, are like the gates of an abominable heaven opening up for him. “Please.”

Yuuta is incapable of denying you for even less. A plea of such magnitude rattles his bones and nearly strips him of all free-will, commanding his body to succumb to its base desires and seek fulfillment through finishing inside you. He relinquishes control and is punched by the pleasure that follows, hiding his face against your throat and fighting to keep his moan suppressed to an acceptable volume.

His warmth takes over you from the inside in spurts, twitching out of him at your deepest point as you settle against his base and further soak the dark curls around it with your arousal. You let him ride the high until he is empty and panting, and only then do you rise up and place a finger against your clit, circling it with a grind of your hips to enhance the pleasure that had been building in your core.

Yuuta watches in awe despite the sensitivity that spurs from your walls squeezing around his used cock, but he has never been more thrilled to be utilized. It doesn’t take long for you to come crashing down to join him in the orgasmic bliss that has you collapsing against his chest with a series of bone-chilling shivers, the satisfaction greater and more incomprehensible than you could’ve imagined.

The two of you are a heap of heavy breaths and quivering muscles, staring into each other’s eyes as the reality of the situation attempts to set in. As much as it should feel repulsive and regrettable, your actions nothing less than reprehensible, your greatest fear is the selfish one of hearing Yuuta say he doesn’t love you anymore. It would be most understandable after what you’ve done, but it frightens you nonetheless.

He struggles to catch his breath and confirm that this wasn’t just a figment of his dastardly imagination. “What—”

Yuuta doesn’t get the chance to stammer out a question before you cut him off with a kiss—a kiss that is so deep and desperate it screams your despair over it possibly being the final one.

You pull back and curl into his neck with murmured remorse. “I’m sorry, Yuuta. I’m sorry.”

His heart flutters with overwhelm but is ultimately on the brink of accepting that something within finally feels actualized. Will he be damned for submitting to it? Is it an insult to his being to so willingly yield after being explicitly taken without permission? Or was it necessary for him in order to reach this point all along?

Yuuta holds no animosity in his heart regardless of whether or not it is warranted. All he carries is a deep sense of love and appreciation.

Wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, he fully savors your closeness at last.

“Don’t be,” he says.

He’s just glad it isn’t a dream anymore.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In honor of @littlepaws9's birthday, we will pretend the break-up never happened... this is very short and hopefully as fluffy as you like your BuckTommy ;)

............................................................................................................................

"I wanna take you out tomorrow," Buck breathes into Tommy's ear, half-hidden from the bedsheet. 

The answer is a mere grunt, he takes it as approval.

"It's a nice restaurant," he continues to chatter, "a bit outside of town, not so fancy, pretty cozy, I think you'll like it."

Squinting, Tommy questions his pillow with a muffled, "Tomorrow’s New Year’s?"

"I've made the reservation a couple of months ago."

This confession seems to crack Tommy’s eyes finally open. He’s still wearing this adorable scrunched-up sleeping face, but Buck can tell something is working behind his brow. A couple of months ago, they almost broke up over a stupid argument, preceded by an evening at Miceli's. It was easy to guess that Buck – after their very hot reconciliation – had made a kind of vow for the future: never to go to that restaurant again, and to never leave anything to chance. 

"Fine, but why are you telling me this at..." Tommy lifts his head briefly to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "six in the morning?"

"I've got a shift. And you live closer to Harbor than to the 118."

"Huh?"

"One of us has to get up early, sleepyhead," Buck says with a laugh, pressing a kiss on the fuzzy head sticking out of the sheets.

The restaurant really proved to be beautiful, far from all the chrome and glass that modern places in L.A. considered aesthetically pleasing. This special day seems to call for wine, so they settle for red. At the tables around them, only couples are to be seen. Buck finds Tommy to be unusually taciturn, and he starts to wonder why. 

"You tired?" he asks, causing Tommy to look up in surprise from the salad he’s been pushing back and forth with his fork. "We can always have dessert at home, if you want."

He winks, and Tommy scrunches his face in his pretty little smile.

"I'd like that," he returns. "But that's not it."

Putting a hand on Buck’s, he softly explains, "New Year’s Eve is always so… charged. Everybody’s making vows and resolutions, and it’s become some kind of couple event, almost worse than Valentine’s." With a nod, he gestures to the guests around them.

"Too corny?" Buck offers. 

"Hm, too many expectations," Tommy cautiously replies. "And... Sometimes you don't know how to fulfill them."

"Expectations," Buck echoes, pondering whatever this might mean. "Look, all I'm expecting is for you to sit there, enjoy your free meal and look at your handsome boyfriend."

"Oh, I can do that," Tommy says with a smirk, raising his glass. 

"Totally cool if this isn't your holiday," Buck continues, a little more serious now. "Just wanna be with you, like... every day, you know?"

Tommy tilts his head and seems about to reply, but Buck quickly interrupts him.

"Don't freak out, because yeah, I do admit I'm a fan of holidays, any kind of them. And I… I brought you something. You can find that kitschy, be my guest to hide under the table, and I expect nothing in return, but…"

Suddenly, there’s a small box in his hand, and Tommy’s features slip.

"Evan," he breathes, a trail of disbelief in his voice. "We agreed on no presents."

"I said don't freak out! That was Christmas, by the way. And it’s not what it looks like." 

With a sheepish smile, he opens the box. Inside lie two very discreet, very pretty silver ear studs in the shape of the letter E. 

"Remember when I once asked you about your pierced ears? You said you got them in your youth but didn’t dare wearing any earrings because of your career choices. And, w…well. You're no longer in the closet. And I know that I'm not the reason for it, but... I'm the reason you admitted it to some of your old friends, and those are my friends too, and that's kind of a big deal somehow. I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's embarrassing, especially after you’ve made it clear Christmas and New Year’s aren’t your … favorites."

"Well," Tommy stretches, reaching for one of his pockets, pulling out quite a similar little box. 

"They’re not," he admits. "There’s a reason I like to volunteer for shifts on those days. Until… well, until you, Evan. I know I kinda chickened out of Christmas, just didn’t feel right to be with your family. You were so understanding, I felt bad. And it was obvious you had something planned for today. It’s adorable when you try to keep a secret. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting... well, that's a conversation for another day. And even if I don't particularly like the day, that doesn't change my affection for you, Evan. I've spent the last few days thinking about how I could show it to you. Pondering what you would like. And, uh... great minds think alike, I guess?"

He flicks open the box to reveal a set of small, silver ear studs. They look like tiny T’s. 

"Cheesy, isn't it?" he says with a broad grin that can hardly hide the fact he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Pretty much," Evan laughs before blurting out, "I don't even have pierced ears, babe."

"I know a good tattoo artist."

"Oh, me too. You know what? We'll go there together. Ear piercings for me and a new tattoo for both of us."

"Bold, Evan. You better not get my name engraved, who knows if you’ll still want me next year?"

"Don't worry," Buck replies with a smile. "You're a keep, no doubt about that."

[maudie-duan]

First Series!!!

Series Summary: For nearly two years, Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat. At what point does he make the choice to either endure or let the stain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

A/N: You guys, this is my first series; bear with me. In no way, shape, or form is this meant to follow Harry’s actual life, nor are the facts or timelines real. This story will be from Harry and Shiloh’s POVs. I like switching between them. I’m nosy, and you get more details this way. So, if you like details, you’re in the right place. This story will be a slow burn, so hold tight. I’m glad you’re here!!! ENJOY!!!!

Word Count: 2K

Warning: Strong language, minor angst, eventual smut, emotional.

Harry’s (POV) Part 1- Mystery Girl

***

I don’t usually think of how my relationships will end, but I’ve been thinking about our ending—the consequence of our beginning looming over our heads as if it were a pleading prayer whispered into the night. When “I love you” no longer sufficed, the emptiness stretched between us and how fickle we were. How we continued seeking tiny moments, desperate to fill that void—A revolving door of new faces and places where we lay tucked away, pressing our bodies together like puzzle pieces, hoping that one day they would fit together—indefinitely.

Surely, we knew this wasn’t going to work, right? From the beginning, we’ve been on two different parallels, trying to make this work, trying to force a path through murky water when neither one of us knew when or how the tide would roll in—and here I am, miserable out of my fucking mind. In a shit headspace just waiting for this evening to end because there’s nothing worse than getting into a massive blowout right before an event. I can’t figure out what’s worse, the fight or the forced niceties. The last place I wanted to be was in public, but this is my life.

Olivia was on about something—actually, I don’t even remember what the fight was about this time, and that’s what it’s been lately. These bullshit fights about petty, senseless matters that take more energy to create than they do to fix. It’s just that she’s gotten so jealous and paranoid that I’m growing distant, that she’s the only one fighting to be in this relationship, and maybe she’s right.

—Side note: Before tonight, I really hadn’t been interested in anyone. Honest to god, I was truly in this wholeheartedly.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m constantly in the public eye, even if I think I’m lying low. There’s always a chance that someone will recognize me. The chances of someone taking a picture are even greater because everyone needs proof, or it didn’t happen, right? I personally don’t believe in this—but to each their own—If you know me and who I am, that’s precisely what you get. She knew this when we met, yet she insists that every move I make is for the world, like I can’t comprehend all of the sacrifices that she has made to be with me. Trust me, I know, and as of late, she’s taken every opportunity to throw it back in my face. 

In all honesty, I know that relationships take work, but isn’t there supposed to be balance? Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost that. We both jumped in feet first and now life seems to be catching up even faster—the constant push and pull in every direction is getting old. Everyone wants something, and she wants the most. It’s like she doesn’t understand the sacrifices that I’ve made. It’s not easy being the world’s biggest pop star and falling in love, but I felt she was worth it at the time.

And now she wants more—Roots that I can’t seem to give her. It’s like I’ve only just begun to find my own footing, stepping into the skin that finally feels right, that’s mine, and she wants nothing to do with it—She wants the control. She wants me to align with whatever she thinks our life should be.

I mean, I get it. I understand wanting the security of always knowing your next move or having a better grasp, but surely Olivia knew what she was getting herself into. It can’t be this big surprise that our life together isn’t panning out into what she had imagined, and the shittest part about it is that I don’t even want to try anymore. I don’t want the things that Olivia is trying to project onto me with every fight that ends with her begging me to choose her—is that not what I’ve been doing this whole time?

I’m lost in thought when Olivia whispers something into my ear. She had gone on and on about this Gucci Cruise show and was pissed when I decided I didn’t want to sit front row. I didn’t want to distract from the show or draw unwanted attention. Especially after that fight—God, that stupid fucking fight that left her in tears, her makeup a wet smear all over her face, almost making us late. 

Tonight was supposed to be memorable. How many people get the chance to attend a Gucci show? This was my first. It’s an honor that I wanted to appreciate and take in with the gratitude I feel not only for the brand but also for the friends I’ve grown quite close to.

“I just feel like the whole point of coming to a fashion show is to sit in with the audience and have a genuine experience of the clothes and the people—” Her comment is pointed and sets me off, so I do the asshole thing and walk toward someone I know leaving her alone with her underhanded comment.

Eventually, I walk over to the edge of the curtain, peering out into the crowd, trying to pinpoint faces I’ll see later, making a list of people I want to see or possibly avoid. As I skim the front row, my eyes land on a woman who looks vaguely familiar. Still, I can’t put a finger on it. She sticks out like a sore thumb. For instance, she is one of the few wearing dark sunglasses in a dimly lit room. Making her stand out in all black, except for the few accents that set her apart from everyone else around her, who are dripping with vibrant colors, something you would expect at a Gucci show—wild statement pieces, different patterns, and textures that ebb and flow amongst each other.

She was magnetic in a way that made it hard for me to look away. The light played off her features, creating a soft aura. A delicate ray of pink traced a faint glow around her. I couldn’t tell if it was an illusion or a trick of the mind in my rose-colored glasses. When I lowered my frames to get a clearer view, I found that she was just as stunning without them—and still, to this day, I can’t explain the feeling; it was like my soul took the lead, reaching out, hoping to find a tether. A single piece of thread that could tie me to her.

And there I stood, my mind spinning out of control. I don’t even know how long I stood there. How long I continued watching her, captivated by how the light which seemed to dance with the shadows every time a model passed in front of her. Another thing I noticed was her ruby-red lip. How they spread into a shy smile, the light catching the gleam of her white teeth—a sight I imagined could be seen from anywhere in the room if you were fortunate enough to catch it. I observed her as she straightened upright and crossed her legs, almost as if she had suddenly become aware of her surroundings. Was she nervous? 

Her hair was slicked back into a sleek bun, tight against her scalp, making her features more pronounced and giving her a tidier appearance than everyone else. This timeless look could set anyone apart from the crowd, but what really caught my eye was the gilded chain dress that hugged her all-black attire underneath. I wanted to see her stand up. I wanted to know how the light played off the delicate beads draped from the woven metal. I wondered if it was uncomfortable for her or if she realized she stood out more than the celebrities around her. She had to be someone important, right? Not just anyone can sit front row at a Gucci show—Who is she?

As if she sensed my gaze, her head abruptly turned toward the curtains, causing me to jump back and bump into Olivia. “What the hell?” I hissed. 

Olivia stepped back, eyes wide, my words landing with a bite. I thought, “fuck is she about to make a scene?”—and yes, the bitterness was unnecessary, but it came more from defense than anger. I didn’t want to be found out. What was I doing anyway? How long had she been standing there? Could she see what I was looking at? Or could I pretend that I was trying to get a better view of the show, which was technically true, right?

“Can we please start over tonight?” she asks, almost pleading. “I know tonight is special for you.” Olivia runs her hands up my chest and cups my face.

“Okay…” I exhale. I want to have a good time, but a part of me knows I would enjoy myself more without her here, and it’s this very feeling that will haunt me all night, my thoughts like demons filling the room—unwanted guests that I’m no longer sure I want to keep at bay, and I know this isn’t fair. 

I couldn’t tell if it was the afterparty or the drinks that came with it, but eventually, the mind fog that plagued me throughout the evening began to lift. It was like a breath of fresh air, each drink diluting the pressure; the animosity threaded into every conversation Olivia and I had was evaporating. I could let go of the stress and relax into the theme of the night—and that was to have fun and fucking enjoy myself because I work hard, dammit.

It was getting easier to play into Olivia’s game of putting on for the coward. This was the part she liked; she loved putting on in a room full of people. She fucking thrived on the attention—she loved wearing me like a glove she could take on and off whenever she pleased. 

I was already three drinks in when I spotted my “mystery girl.” It surprised me—she was much shorter than I had imagined, but something was compelling about her presence. When she finally looked my way, I instinctively put my arm around Olivia, feeding into the lie, feeling like a fool when her eyes flitted over me with no recognition, piercing my ego in one swift look. I didn’t know what I thought would happen…actually, I’ll tell you exactly what I thought would happen. I thought my presence alone would be enough to garner her attention. Instead, I stood there stunned when her eyes lingered on Olivia, sending her a friendly smile as she mouthed the words, “I love your dress.” pulling at the strap of her dress to drive her compliment home.

Astonished, I stood by, holding my breath as the transaction morphed into Olivia mouthing a returned compliment, making ‘Mystery Girl’ beam and my chest swell with jealousy as she turned away, not even sparing me a second glance. She moved through the room effortlessly, like a hummingbird, moving from flower to flower fast yet graceful, donning that beautiful smile that had me begging her to look my way—just one more time. That’s all I would need. 

Was she a journalist? It seemed like everyone knew who she was. She spoke to everyone she encountered with such ease that each conversation I noticed flowed as if they were friends—though perhaps they were, but how was I to know? At some point, I lost her in the night, or maybe I knew I had to release her from my thoughts. I wanted to end the night on a high note, not go home with a suspecting partner to whom I would have to explain myself later. 

So, by drink five, I was being pulled onto the stage with Stevie, duetting a few songs, and as I closed my eyes, singing out the lines:

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above? 

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

I opened my eyes as we swayed into the chorus, browsing the crowd. My gaze locked with Olivia’s, who was crying, tears streaming down her face, a pained look of grief stealing her features. We shared a look of understanding. Maybe even realization, but it hit me hard, the sadness creeping up my spine as she turned and moved away from the crowd, and I noticed her bump into Alessandro, who caught her by the arm with a concerned look on his face. I pulled away from the microphone, my voice choking up, and I let Stevie take over. We both knew that our world was crumbling right before our eyes and when I glanced back over, searching for Olivia, she was gone. 

A/N: Ya'll let me know in the comments what you think. I'd love to get your feedback. If you think I should continue?? Hope you guys enjoyed!

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Old Man- Billy Butcher x Reader

Summary: Billy shows reader that he’s not as much of an ‘old man’ as she says he is

Word count: 1, 226

Billy Butcher tag: @rustanddusted

*wanna be tagged in my next Butcher fic? Click here*

The arrow on his laptop slowly clicked around the screen, as Butchers research continued.

“Yah know, it’s a little difficult to find shit out with you sittin’ there watchin’ me, princess,” Billy commented.

He began typing with two pointed fingers as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

“I know, I’m just so distracting,” you joke with a breathy voice as you adjust your legs to sit over the arms of the chair.

Your comment earns you a sly smirk as he continues his two fingered typing.

“God, you’re such an old man,” you laugh at his typing, now standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

This comment makes him stop, and it almost seems like you’d won in getting him to stop working, but he just goes back to it.

“Yeh well if I’m such an old man, maybe you can put your hands to work and give me a massage. Me shoulders killin’ me,” Billy complains as he leans into your touch.

Smirking at the idea of getting Billy to moan in one way or another from your touch, you begin to knead into his strong shoulders. Almost immediately, Billy begins to moan from your soothing touch. The sound was like music to your ears, and you could see your plan was working as his fingers stopped typing.

“You really are an old man, muscles all tight, groaning when you stand up,” you joke as you continue to massage his shoulders.

“Guess I just need a young thing like you to take care of me,” Billy flirts back.

You’d tried to me subtle with your flirting, mainly just making fun of him in a playful way, never really intending for it to go anywhere.

Your hands stop at his flirty words, making Billy chuckle as he rises from his chair. Once fully facing you, he wastes no time grabbing you by the hips and pushing you against his desk. A small gasp leaves your lips as you feel his hardening cock now pressing against you.

“Is that it, princess? You wanna take care of his old man?” He continues his teasing, as he pushes you to sit on desk, his fingers now digging into your hips as yours press into his strong biceps.

His eyes never leave yours as he continues.

“I mean you talk about how old I am all the time. That just your little way of saying how badly you want me, sweetheart?”

His smirk reacting to your stunned face is wicked as he presses his face against your neck, beginning to leave hot open mouth kisses on the sensitive skin. You can’t help but dig your fingers into his hair as you moan out.

“Aaaww is that it, sweetheart? You wanna take care of daddy?” He taunts, his strong fingers now digging into your cheeks, forcing your lips to jut out into an over exaggerated pout.

He stares into your eyes cheekily, cocking an eyebrow and waiting for a reply.

“Yes, daddy,” you reply as best you can with your lips pushed out.

Your words excite Butcher, as his smile widens to show off his teeth. The image of his exposed teeth making him appear like a wolf, hungry for the prey he’s caught.

“Good girl. You wanna ride daddy on the couch or on his bed? I mean I’d fuck you but like you’ve said I’m such an old man,” he jokes.

“The couch. Closer to the door in case my pussys too good and you have a heart attack,” you joke back as he releases your face.

Your joking does nothing to hurt him, and only seems to excite him more. His strong hand reaches around your throat as he pushes his lips against yours, in a hungry kiss.

Pushing off the desk and making your way over to the couch, you hungrily rip at each others clothes. By the time you’ve made the short distance to the couch and you’re straddling Billy’s lap, you’re both completely naked; some of the clothes left along the way torn from literally ripping them off of each other.

Billy’s strong hands stroke from your thighs and over your waist before grabbing two handfuls of your breasts.

“Fuck, what did this old man do to deserve tits so perfect,” he growls as he rough squeezes at them, almost in a trance.

The intense trance your body has Billy under only breaks as your hand wraps around his throbbing cock. You barley pump it before Billy is loudly groaning and wrapping his strong arms around your body, pushing you against his warm chest.

“You want me to take care of you, old man? Let me do all the work and I’ll make you feel so good, daddy,” you tease, lightly nipping at his neck as you line yourself up with his thick cock.

Sinking down onto him, your head is thrown back at the perfect way he stretches you out. Your loud moans mix together, and your eyes lock as you begin to move.

Your hands hold his shoulders for support, while his hands grab at your ass and hips, while you begin to grind and bounce on his lap. His cock his filling you up perfectly, and he keeps hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Fuck, princess, taking care of me so good. Your pussy feels fuckin’ amazing!” He groans out, staring at your blissed out face above him, as his grip tightens of your ass.

Leaning forward, your hands go past his head and grab onto the back of the couch, and you bury your face into his neck as your movements speed up.

At this new angle, Billy can see your ass perfectly. Grabbing onto it with two hands, he forces your movements as he feels himself getting closer.

“You gonna finish already, old man? Not even gonna let me cum first?” You breathlessly joke into his ear.

Your teasing earns you a deep chuckle, as Billy powerfully thrusts his hips up into you. His cock pushes even deeper inside you, causing you to scream out a moan at the perfect feeling.

“You think I was just gonna get you to ride me once, princess? Unlike the boys of your generation, I actually know how to treat a lady. Gonna cum deep inside your tight little pussy, then I’m gonna spend so much time between your legs making you cum that you’ll forget how to fuckin’ walk!” He groans out as he takes over.

His thrusts become more powerful and your head begins to go dizzy with pleasure.

“Here I thought you were gonna look after me, but you got me doin’ all the work. It’s okay, princess, daddy will look after yah. You gonna let me cum in your tight little pussy?” He asks breathlessly, right on the brink of finishing.

“Yeeess! Cum in me, daddy,” you moan against his ear.

Billy growls out as his hands on your ass tighten and his heads thrown back, yelling out a powerful moan.

He thrusts into you lazily a few more times, before his grip on your ass loosens.

Catching his breath, his arms wrap around your body, as he sweetly pushes you against him.

“How’s that for ‘old man’?” He chuckles at the fucked out look on your face, as he sweetly kisses your forehead.

[itsrlymine]

HAI BESTIE ITS 🪐💜 AGAIN!!!

omg ur post abt not calling it desires bc it’s already yours so wtf are you desiring… EXACTLY!!! LITERALLY THAT!!

I always had this sort of cognitive dissonance when it comes to talking abt like the concept of wanting something and “trying to get it” when in all reality you don’t want something you already have.

Also I wanted to mention this little trick I use to help for people who have a hard time or just aren’t used to affirming something to themselves if they’re too caught up in the “3D” or whatever!! For all y’all ‘logical’ people this might work for you

Basically I spew out a list of stuff that I know are undeniable fact and include whatever it is I manifest in that list so my brain will receipt it as a fact as well! There is a psychology term for this where your brain will categorize something based on the surrounding information/context but I forgot what it was called LMAOO

Essentially I tell myself something along this:

“The sky is blue. I have a phone. I breathe oxygen. I have 2 living parents. I’m sitting in my apartment with (partner) rn. I graduated highschool. Grass is green. I’m good at art. it’s snowing outside right now. I’m a millionaire. My sister is 14 years old. I ate scrambled eggs for breakfast. Water is made up of one hydrogen atom two oxygen atoms. I know how to braid hair. I’ve got a huge following on social media. My friends are (insert names), I love my friends. I’m friends with (celeb.) ice is cold. Fire is hot. I have a masculinely androgynous body. My family is accepting of queer people. I am Arab. My family isn’t religious.”

Etc etc, it really helps me feel comfortable with understanding how it is FACTUAL I have it regardless of what the 3D shows me or not!

( something I find so funny is how since i deal with psychosis, in my episodes I tend to think of everything as fake and a simulation. and though I’m not having an episode I still think of the 3D and 4D with that lens bc this shit is just a slow ass loading simulation fr! Like I already changed and clicked and did whatever I changed but it loads slow as hell so although I’m not seeing the changes I know it’ll show up bc it has to)

babes.... when i tell you i do the same exact thinggggg! I list out facts that I know with ones that align with what I've manifested to prove to myself that I don't have to feel any inherent thing, just be and think as the person who has something they wanted. It's so great and just shows you how everything is truly just our assumptions of them.

[untildawnss]

tailspin

in which josh always felt like the odd one out in his family and group of friends.

yes, i like to hurt my own feelings, why do you ask?

definitely inspired by myself and a few songs: gasoline by halsey, work in progress by the dangerous summer, 100 bad days by ajr, yes i'm a mess by ajr, breakdown by you me at six, i wanna get better by the bleachers, overwhelmed by royal & the serpent, panic room by au/ra, young by girli, crawling by linkin park

cw: depression, suicidal ideation, angst, attempted suicide

wc: 2.8k

josh looked down at the half-empty cup that he was balancing between his knee and the thumb and index finger of his right hand, tilting it down and back up right before the drink spilled over. his left thumb touched the tip of his index finger, then his middle finger, ringfinger and pinkie and back again while he inhaled for four seconds, held that breath for four seconds, exhaled for four seconds and then paused for another four seconds. he was uncomfortably aware of his heartbeat. "hey, josh!" it took him a second to realise that someone was talking to him. "josh, we're up." the cup in his hand slipped slightly. "what?" josh looked up and there was chris, doing lunges and kicks and punching the air. "beerpong, bro! what's wrong with you?" everything. "nothing, just got really into planning my strategy." he drained the cup, forced his face into the well-practiced, toothy grin that he sported in every picture and whooped. "let's fucking go, bro! these suckers won't know what hit 'em."

the noise of the party was gone. josh could have called a cab or ordered an uber but he craved the fresh air and quiet that the walk home guaranteed. no driver trying to make conversation, no fastest route. he wasn't sure if he wanted to go home. sometimes it didn't feel like home. he felt out of place. his sisters had each other, their parents were barely involved anymore. and then there was him. josh. the oldest, the problem, the one that just didn't fit in. and he was going where his feet were taking him now. he'd had a lot to drink. he didn't feel like he made sense the way he was, just a bit off, like he was not entirely one single, whole person. just pieces of someone that were held together by the people around him. but there was no one around now and josh felt like he was crumbling, falling apart atom by atom. the darkness was suffocating and liberating at the same time and he stood still for a second or two. his hands were shaking and he didn't know why. now that he was alone he wished he wasn't. but he couldn't stand being around his friends either. because maybe they hated him as much as he hated himself.

josh's room was pitch black. even hannah and beth were already asleep when he finally snuck into the house. the buzz from the party had more than worn off at this point and his ears were ringing. it felt like someone was sitting on his chest, he definitely couldn't breathe right and his heart was beating faster. naturally, he'd made his way to the cabinet where his parents kept the booze to sneak another two or six big gulps of vodka or whiskey or whatever his hands could find in the dark corner of the room. just to calm down, to sleep. and here he was, throat burning and that ache in his chest still pulsing, pumping, stabbing. he could barely breathe. josh's eyes were stinging. he was tired now, away from everyone and everything. almost like a sensory deprivation chamber, if it wasn't for the creases in the sheets and the wrinkles in his shirts he felt against his back and thighs and calves. he hated it, being this aware of his own body. the old clock on the wall was ticking. he was trying to breathe in time with the ticking hand, four seconds, four seconds. but his lips were quavering and his eyes were stinging and he felt like he was choking. and then he was crying.

he'd fallen asleep at one point because someone was opening his curtains and the bright morning light stung in his still puffy eyes. someone sat down on the side of his bed. his body shifted with the dip in his mattress and his stomach lurched. another person plopped down on the other side of the bed. he heaved this time. "leave me alone," josh groaned. "mom and dad said to wake you up or we're not taking you to the beach." hannah and beth sounded excited. "don't wanna go to the beach. i'm not feeling well." josh pulled his blanket over his head. he felt his mattress shifting again, the twins' weight on his left and right vanishing. they left the door open. he heard someone else walk in and close the door. his mattress shifted again. a hand pulled the blanket off his face and gently stroked the side of his face. mom. he felt like crying again. "joshua, you're not feeling well?" she always used his given name when he wasn't well. "we can stay home." no, i'll ruin everything. "no, you can go. i'll call you if i need anything." she kissed his forehead. "are you sure?" no. he nodded. "okay." she closed the door when she walked out and he heard them, having fun, without him, as a family. they don't need me.

josh felt paralysed. some invisible, intangible force was trapping him in this bed, his bed. it had been a few hours since his family had left for the weekend trip to the beach. he had barely moved since then. the afternoon sun was reflecting off of the clock on his wall. it was still friday. he still had until sunday until his parents and sisters would get back. and he didn't belong. not really, anyway. hannah and beth were a few years younger and anything he'd never managed to achieve, they had. he was just the one that fell off the wagon years ago and had messed up the picture perfect family. there was a kind of disconnect, his body seemed to move without his input sometimes. he barely remembered getting in the shower or having breakfast, or maybe it was lunch at this point. josh could barely decide if he wanted to be alone or not before he had sent a text to the group chat with his friends asking them if they had any plans for tonight. it was too late now but he was barely convinced they liked him when he was at his best anyway, so what difference did it really make now?

they'd all agreed to come over to his place since his parents were out. they had invited more people, too. i should be fine. but he wasn't. there were so many people everywhere and he wished they would just leave. he should be fine, but he was not. he was anxious. he could barely move around his house without walking in on conversations or kisses or more. it was getting hard to breathe again. josh felt like someone was crushing his chest. but he was standing upright, just tipsy and dying to get out of this house, his house where everyone else wanted to stay and have fun. but something was happening to him and his breathing was getting shallower and he was stumbling, tumbling, falling up the stairs looking for a door that would keep him safe from whatever was going on down there. and then josh was in a bedroom, a guestroom that was barely ever used and he was clawing at his chest, at the heart that was beating the wrong way and making him gasp for air and everything was painful and he hit the floor, still clutching his chest. and josh wished he had never asked anyone for anything, not even their time. everyone was here and he was here and breaking down and the door was closed but it was barely anything between him fighting for his life and everyone else having fun. they don't need me. no one needs me. they didn't, they really didn't. he was living in the house with the fun stuff that rich people had. but if he just disappeared they'd still have hannah and beth. because everyone loved them. and he was just there.

josh had been in this room for a while. might've been minutes, might've been days. he didn't remember. maybe he was somewhere else. didn't matter, really. he was like a ship adrift, waves of consciousness crashing into him, bouncing him, left and right, port and starboard. faces flashed before his eyes, maybe friendly. and he was here, his back against a hard surface and two faces he knew in front of him. "sam, is he okay?" chris sounded panicked. there was something pressing against his neck. "he has a pulse. he's fine, he's alive, he's fine, chris." chris and sam. they were here. "what's up, guys?" he could barely hear himself. maybe he was slurring his words. he did drink a lot. "josh, you good?" chris was leaning in closer. josh gave him a thumbs up and tried grinning like he always did. "i'm good, cochise." he tried to aim the finger guns at chris. maybe he aimed them at sam. he wasn't sure. and before he knew it he was upright and there was sam on one side and chris on the other and he tried to walk where they were taking him but he was too drunk and so slow.

josh was in his bed again. there was still music downstairs. and he was tired but he wasn't. he wanted to scream, to tell everyone to shut up. but his body wouldn't move the way he wanted it to. he let his hands sweep around him to find his phone. there it was, neatly placed on his bedstand next to a glass of, probably, water. he was too far from coherent to understand the words on the screen the way he normally did. he had to bring the screen as close as possible and squint and finally his eye focused on the words. he tapped on chris' name. it took him a while, seeing as he was one handed and one eyed but josh finally managed to send a message to chris. who's still here? where are you? the words felt like heavy lifting, or maybe it was just the oncoming hangover that made him feel this way. we're getting everyone to go home. yeah, that was probably best. josh could barely type and send his response before he passed out again.

when josh woke up it was saturday. maybe midday or the afternoon. whatever. but there were no more people in his house and there was trash everywhere and a note from chris on the inside of the front door. we tried our best. and josh smiled because chris and sam could've left everything for him to clean up but they didn't. maybe they didn't hate him. he didn't dare debate this now that he was alone and had to clean the house. he preferred to believe that maybe they did like him. and so he turned on the music and turned it up to the point his parents would intervene because it would give him tinnitus.

josh started collecting all the disposable cups and pizza boxes he could find around the house and on the patio. chris and sam had probably done a lot already because there had been so many people last night, he still filled almost an antire bag. he craved a cigarette. no one knew he had started smoking. maybe chris, but he wouldn't say anything. i should be fine. he wasn't. he wasn't fine at all. josh spent the rest of the day trying to clean the house, just trying to make sure his parents wouldn't realise he'd had a party.

but when the night came he was restless again. and he couldn't resist. blades seemed so vulgar. he'd put his father's gun to his head before, once or twice, just to know how it felt. and now it was 4 in the morning and he just wanted to not exist. and the pills were right there. but josh wasn't sure. did he want to go out that way? he didn't actually know. but the music was playing and he there were the pieces of everyone he loved the most flashing before his eyes. there was beth. you can't wake up. there was hannah. this is not a dream. mom. you're part of a machine. dad. you are not a human being. chris. with your face all made up, living on a screen. sam. low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline. josh. i think there's a flaw in my code. and he didn't know if this was real anymore. he knew he didn't fit in. i'm not scared. at least he tried not to be. but he was.

and josh tried, he really tried. but his pills were right there and he was just a disturbance in the perfect life his friends and family were living, right? they won't miss me. the thought was bouncing and bumping and jumping around and around in his head. he wanted to get better but he didn't know how, how, how. nothing helped and even drinking helped for a few hours at most. and they don't want me anyway. he was sure they didn't. they had hannah and beth and they got trophies and awards and everything he didn't. and sam liked hannah better anyway. and chris, chris would find a new friend. someone cooler than him.

he had deliberated, thought about this. there was really nothing else to do, nothing he could do, was there? but it was barely an hour until his family was supposed to be back. and he was panicking because he didn't want to see him like this but there was no other way. josh cried again. but because he had waited too long. and he was sitting on his bed, a glass of water and almost a month's supply of pills on his bedstand. oh death. and he begged for gods he didn't believe in to take him. and so he stuffed the pills in his mouth and it took him three, four, five, six gulps to swallow them all. and josh sat there and he was fine and he didn't want to be. he wanted to die and he took his pills, all at one,. and he was fine and he hated it. and then his vision blurred and his head started to hurt and then he could barely breathe and he got up and he was stumbling towards the door and he couldn't breathe and he opened his door but he was short of breath and he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. and then he was aspirating and he heard someone call his name and pressure on his chest and he wasn't sure if it was heaven or hell but there were the faces of the people he loved. his parents. hannah. beth. and he wanted to live. he didn't want to die anymore. and he needed them to know. and he was fighting, trying to dig himself up because it felt like he was buried alive and he clawed and punched and gasped and breathed until he was surrounded by machines and white and a hospital room and was choking on a tube. and his parents and sisters were there and all of them looked like they were crying. a nurse pulled the breathing tube out of his throat and informed the room that he was breathing on his own again. and josh started crying. and hannah and beth were on him, clawing at him as if he was the only thing that mattered and their parents were crying and telling him that they were sorry. and josh was crying, returning the hug. "i didn't mean to. i didn't want to." and he was sobbing and grabbing at every part of his sisters he could reach. "i didn't want to die. i don- i don't want to die." hannah and beth had removed themselves from josh's figure in the hospital bed, already informing their friends that josh was alive. melinda washington had sat down on the side of his bed, her husband behind her, a hand on his shoulder, his face a carefully curated mask. "mommy, i didn't want to die. mommy, please, i didn't want to die." josh was crying, begging, pleading. melinda washington knew they'd technically made a decision but seeing her son like this was different. but her husband wouldn't budge. melinda beckoned her daughters closer to prepare them but wondered if there was really a preparation for not seeing your brother, your son for at least a few months. bob was more than prepared to have joshua committed. she really wasn't but knew that there was nothing she could to do help him. so she went along with his decisions. just a few weeks, maybe months until they could see josh again.

[comikbook]

do you have any character design tips? all your characters look so cool and i struggle so hard with designing characters lol

hi yes !!!! okay okay so first off all of my characters are dnd characters, so i will start with going thru the list of races available and pick one that i think is cool or interesting.

the next thing i do is i come up with a theme. is this character based off of an animal ? does this character have a trope i want to explore ? is there a specific setting i want to make this character fit into ? these are all questions im asking myself

for example, this is my character mercy !!

i knew when i was making her my first idea was “i want a cowboy oc” !! I also knew i wanted a vampire character, i mashed the ideas together !

I thought to myself about cowboy media I had seen and enjoyed, and decided she would be based on one of my favorite movies, true grit (the 2010 version)

you may see the resemblance to the two main characters !! i picked different things from each character that i liked, most of her being based on the character on the left, with some elements of the one on the right. this gave me my “base” to work with !

I then started to think about outfits, my favorite part !!

I will always always always reccomend searching thru pinterest when designing a character. look at runway/ high fashion pics to get an idea for interesting sillhouettes. what is your characters ethnicity or time period ? look at historical clothing associated with either. look at pieces made by fashion students, find different elements that you think look interesting and make a list of what it is you particularly are drawn to. heres some images i gathered when i was designing mercy.

while not exact the vision was starting to come together !! this is the point where i start sketching, trying out different outfit combos and cycling thru the elements i listed before. Once i have a very basic sillhouette/idea of the outfit, this is when i start embellishing !!!!

for example, i liked the tassles on the hat, okay done, where else can i include tassles ? i considered the vest, but ultimately decided on the cuffs of the sleeves. the cool thing about that is the tassles from the hat coming down to the cuffs creates a triangle shape in the figure. This enforces a sillhouette and creates a balence to the design !!

I also liked the idea of an embroidered vest, and embroidery in general that is seen in a lot of cowboy outfits, i embraced that and brought in more embroidered details in the bag and the gun holster.

At this point I had my outfit sketched out ! then I went onto coloring !!! picking colors for a design is typically the hardest and most time consuming part for me, however with mercy i had a clear idea. I wanted to create a sepia color scheme, very neutral, to emulate old western photographs !! so thats what i went with ! lots of browns, brassy metal, black, and cream. I also knew she was a vampire, and knew I wanted to draw a lot of pieces with blood and thought the red would stand out white nicely from the neutral tones of her pallet :) (another cool thing to consider which i did not do for mercy is color langage and using certain colors with certain meanings to emphasize the theme)

With all of this done now, i had my design !!! after this point is where I make a series of sketches of the character to really get the hang of drawing them, different poses to figure out personality, things like that !! Things evolve over time of course, but usually my characters i am able to do a one and done type approach and rarely have to entirely scrap and redesign them. its all about having fun and learning what it is you want to see in the design of characters in media !!!

I hope this helped some !! im not the best with my words but this is a pretty good run thru of what i do for each character !!

[tavolgisvist]

‘We’re not really capable of ad-libbing,’ says John, ‘unless it’s among ourselves, and that’s too personal. I mean, I can count the people on my fingers who can understand what we’re about all the time.’ <…> ‘The trouble is,’ he says, ‘it’s only us who can write for us.’ He explains that his first line in the script is one he is supposed to say when Paul enters with an old man. ‘I’m supposed to say, “Uh, who’s your friend, Paul?” I wouldn’t say that. I’d just say, “Who’s the old crip?”’ <…> He wants to call the book John Lennon in his Own Write, a title suggested by Paul. I say that since he also plans to do sketches for the book it should be called John Lennon in his Own Write and Draw. ‘Right-hand draw,’ says John. I tell him that parts of his writing are very much like Ulysses. He says he has never read Joyce and the only influence on his writing that he knows of is Lewis Carroll. ‘I don’t go in for much of those culture things, like Paul,’ he says. ‘Just drop a name and Paul will go; I’d rather stay at home when I’m not working but Paul goes out to Harry Secombe and Lovely War. I suppose I should like those things, but I just don’t.’ <…> The Beatles have a few days free and Ringo has gone to Liverpool. It is now midday and George has just woken up. He wanders into the sitting-room where he is fitted for a suit by the Beatles’ tailor, Dougie Kingman. He then gets dressed and prepares to go out for lunch. Once in the street he keeps looking around for fans and seems both, annoyed and pleased when one of them finally asks him for his autograph in Park Lane. At lunch he tells about a television programme the Beatles have appeared on. The host, a Liverpool comedian called Ken Dodd, had said he was thinking of becoming a pop singer and wanted a ‘down-to-earth name’. George had suggested ‘sod’. After lunch he produces a copy of a contract the Beatles made in Germany. He is taking it to their music publisher to find out how much they are owed in royalties. He has been carrying it in his pocket for two weeks. Before that it lay in a suitcase in Liverpool and London for three years. A few days later John is in a taxi, passing a store that has a red night shirt in the window. He tells the cab to stop, goes inside, and asks how much the night-shirt costs. ‘Six pounds,’ he is told. ‘That’s a lot,’ he says, ‘but I think Cyn would like it.’ While it is being wrapped the clerk asks him to look at some jackets that have just arrived. He winds up buying three and a coat. The bill comes to £107, but he doesn’t have his cheque-book with him. The store presents a blank cheque but he can’t remember what branch his account is at.

(Love Me Do. The Beatles Progress by Michael Braun, 1963/1995)

Part (I), (II), (III), (IV), (V), (VI), (VII), (VIII)

[ganondoodle]

i did say i didnt want to talk more about it but i needed to make a correction-

CORRECTION; he did not say its perfect, but defended it as in 'what show has ever gotten all its plotlines wrapped up nicely when you got so much going on' ..... like it wasnt also him that introduced all those plotlines that ended up going nowhere or got a weird end to them or ... a really forced feeling open end to make room for whatever they are doing next

also another fun thing is (apparently, dont take my word for it) that they usually made sure not to stray away too far from leagues canon, to find a balance between arcane version and league ... but didnt do that for viktor (which is why hes nothing like he is in game .. or was (since they are erasing old game viktor..)) from season 1 they could have still gotten around to that, like imo him realizing that the hexcore isnt doing what he likes and replaces it with mechanical stuff or non corrupted hextech or jayce doing that to save him could all have worked to make him an updated version of leagues one without getting rid of literally everything of game viktor (but then there couldnt have been a timeloop :((((( what a loss :((( and we couldnt have made the entire plot suddendly revolve around god complex viktor ... and not make the class conflict magically be solved bc they had to fight together to defeat a threat tm (and then also kinda ... didnt ... like its jayce with ekkos help who gets through to viktor but the enforcers and zaunites needlessly dying was kinda .. for nothing ... cheap shock value maybe but utterly unearned imo)

(and just as an addition; i am aro/aco and i do love ace characters and also firmly believe that romantic love isnt the highest form of love and you can love just as deeply platonically and they are inherently linked and not really one or the other anyway bc in the end its love either way whether that makes you want to kiss someone or hug them tightly- HOWEVER it being used as an attempt to invalidate the popular gay ship (bc they absolutely love each other .. like ... that is undeniable, in whatever you may want it to result in) is just shitty to multiple queer identities ..... even ignoring the fact that asexual alone doesnt mean no kissing ... (and i do note that there are hetero and lesbian pairings EXPLICITLY in the show but the gay one is kept vague and then attempted to be invalidated by one of the writers which ... >_>))

arcane season two only had 3 writers left at the end ................. yeah it shows, the more i think about everythign the worse it gets

and if they fumble the whole class divide stuff of piltover and zaun THIS badly ... then oh boi are we in for a ride, cant wait what shit they come up with for the other regions (derogatory)

[spaghett-onaplate]

depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed

[flufflecat]

Got to stolen century in my relisten and started tearing up at work because of magnus carving the duck. Just me in the back room, crying over the dish sink for normal reasons.

[tleeaves]

The art is lovely and now I'm gonna ramble because that's what I do when I care about something.

For the love of women, please PLEASE can fan artists remember to add muscle to their Shadowhunter ladies? I'll commend Bowater for cleverly giving James that sculpted and lean look without making him a beefcake (nothing against beefcakes, I'd love to hug them), but Cordelia is once again suffering from Arms And Shoulders Too Slender It's Hard To Even Imagine Her Picking Up A Sword. There is some there, yes, but artists shouldn't be afraid of giving particularly Female Main Characters weight and toned muscle. Cordelia is supposed to be nearly the same height as James as far as I can remember, and she's curvy, and full, and she wields a sword like it's second nature to her. Please explain why she looks so tiny in James' lap.

Also I'm pretty sure marriage runes are supposed to go over the heart whenever possible (thinking about Will's parabatai rune being over his heart instead -- he didn't get Tessa to draw over the scar, did he??) and... either I'm looking at the picture wrong or James' rune is not over where his heart should be.

For the matter, where are their other runes and scars?? James' Voyance rune isn't even on his hand. And I'm pretty sure he's right handed. I could have that wrong though.

Another thing: no one can ever decide what Cordelia's hair looks like and it's the funniest thing to me. This is what happens when all you do is vaguely say the colour is like fire but also like rose petals but also a flowing river of those things but also is Red (probably for redhead, but then from there I never understand where the rose petal analogy comes from considering the typical rose is a deep bloody colour -- I do acknowledge the existence of those light orange varieties though which might more closely resemble red hair). In the end, I'm glad readers can infer what they want and imagine the characters how they like.

Anyone else think James looks like he's built like a tennis player? Oddly specific, maybe, but it was a thought I had. Mostly the arms and somewhat narrow body.

James' hair is nice, his eyes are an interesting take on gold in the shadows. Bowater managed to also make him look closely related to his father, so bravo for that.

In the end, the focus is obviously on the marriage runes and not other physical aspects outside of it being clear that this is James and Cordelia. Bowater's style is very beautiful and elegant. Love the way fabric and lighting is done too. I'll add also that it is possible to be a smaller person who is slender but still strong so I mean Cordelia's not necessarily done wrong, I just interpret her appearance differently. Obviously, they're both hot and they're both attractive and I have my qualms with the series, chronicles, and author -- the fandom I am so-so on, though I'm still here, aren't I? And I'm taking the time to ramble about my thoughts on a piece of fanart -- but this is good. Gorgeous, even. Both James and Cordelia are beautiful.

[shirogane-oushirou]

no promises anymoooooreeeee i'll appear online when i appear online 😭 every time i say "ooh i think life is almost done being overwhelming!" it. becomes even more overwhelming in the dumbest ways. all i can manage rn when i'm not stressing myself into a shut-down state is staring at the wall while listening to youtube essays + mindlessly crocheting.

i might queue up ppls art and fics w/o commentary in the tags... i want other ppl to see what all of my cool friends have made, but i genuinely can't think right now with this monstrous brain fog. i'm really sorry, just. yeah. maybe i'll think of some way to make it up later!!! once the dust has settled!!!! but until then i wuv u and miss u. smiles.

[venting in tags including familial manipulation and ableism. i. didn't mean to write all of that, thiss was originally going to be a main blog post but. aaaaaAAAAAA!!!!!

also no need for replies or anything, i'd turn them off for just the one post if i could kjsndkn, i just needed to get things out and go eep jsjndsfdn ok bye bye bye bye!!!!]