#I'm so tired and yet god still refuses to strike me down

[sirennamedkore]

Dude being tired but unable to sleep is insane because why am I awake at 11am with 0 hours of sleep and writing Javert on the damn grocery list.

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter 7 - Ada

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@ell0ra-br3kk3

In June 1919, Birmingham,

Last night, at the end of the street by the bonfire, Thomas and I confessed our secret underground love. But because Thomas and I both had beds that were too small and narrow, we haven't moved in together yet. Thanks to these "hard" conditions, I still get a few good night's sleep occasionally. Nights are disturbed by Tommy, and during the day, he's always calculating…

"Can't you give me a break? I want to live to be a hundred!" Tommy never paid attention to my irritable remarks and continued on his own path.

"What have you been doing all day?"

Polly looked up from the newspaper and glanced at Ada. I yawned behind another newspaper, trying to hide my fatigue. It's all Thomas's fault; I'm so tired…

"Get up!"

Polly suddenly ordered Ada to stand up, waking me from my drowsiness. I looked at Polly circling Ada.

"How long has it been since your last period?"

I continued to listen to their conversation in confusion, and it took me a while to react—Ada was pregnant!

Oh my God! If Tommy finds out, it's going to be a disaster! I can already foresee a "world war" about to erupt in our home. What a troublesome autumn…

I bit my lip, weighing my options, and decided to temporarily stand by Ada's side.

That night, I changed into old clothes that wouldn't make me easily recognizable and followed Polly and Ada to the underground clinic.

Ada must really love that man. Even though she stubbornly tried to hide her fear and unease with smoking and tough talk, she refused to consider an abortion, even though the man had left. She still believed he would come back…

Did she really trust him? Or was she unwilling to admit her inner fears and misjudgments?

I had told Tommy at Martha's funeral that I was worried our fate would be like Martha's. It seems I didn't think far enough. Maybe I too could become pregnant before marriage and then be abandoned by Tommy…

I looked at the people walking in the smoky streets, their heads down, and suddenly felt a bitter sensation in my eyes, but not a single tear.

In my upbringing, women were supposed to remain chaste until their wedding night, then spend their lives as wives and mothers, with activities like playing the piano or riding horses serving as mere embellishments to married life. But when I came to Birmingham, I had to rebuild all those rules in order to survive. I loved Tommy, just as Ada loved the father of her child, so I willingly went to bed with him.

But at this moment, I was truly afraid. More afraid than when I worried about Polly kicking me out when I was still underage and wanted by the law.

I didn't know how I would go on if my beloved abandoned me after I became pregnant. Since accompanying Ada to the clinic, I had once again fallen into a state of mental confusion. Although the thing I was afraid of was still a thousand miles away—after the doctor examined me at Polly's strong insistence that day, he said I was healthy but not pregnant—ever since that day, Tommy had been busy and hadn't come to see me at night…

My rationality told me that none of this mattered, that it was all just a coincidence. But I couldn't control my fear.

Tommy was still busy manipulating the gambling games, Polly was worried about Ada, and easygoing Arthur and John were either maintaining their reputation or living a life of debauchery. No one noticed that something was wrong with me.

It was the beginning of the month again, and I had to go to the Garrison pub to check the accounts and help out.

"You don't look well," the blonde Grace seemed to want to strike up a conversation with me, or maybe she was concerned about me, but I didn't have the mood to pay attention to her attentions.

I tried to focus my attention on the ledger, scribbling and drawing in the notebook, but my mind wandered, and I just stared blankly at the floating dust by the door.

When I finally snapped out of it, the barmaid was talking to Tommy by the side door. She was holding a metal bucket—her little tricks were so obvious.

I propped up my chin and watched Tommy from a distance, standing behind the bar.

He seemed to be in a good mood… But my mood got worse.

In the end, Tommy noticed that I had been hiding behind the bar all along.

"Have you finished the accounts?" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, probably tired of me only talking about work…

"Not yet." I forced out a smile that was probably uglier than crying because I saw Tommy frown.

"Are you okay?" He walked toward me, but

I quickly retreated.

"It's none of your business! It's been so long since we've spent time together, and you're always busy with your business!" I said, my voice trembling with sadness and anger.

Tommy frowned, walked over to the bar, and called for a whiskey. Then, he raised his hand to signal for my drink. Grace immediately brought me a glass of whiskey, but I just knocked it over onto the counter.

[messybrained]

I very rarely make posts because 1) I'm terrified of people and 2) I'm just a wee bit private, I don't have too much to say. I think I just needed to speak this out into the void, be a bit vulnerable and imagine connecting with other weirdos like me.

I have undiagnosed, and unmedicated adult ADHD. Honestly, it's one of my favourite things about myself - I'm eager, I'm funny, I find everyday things really exciting. I'm quick to strike up a conversation with people, I love hearing about what they do because I can find interest in just about everything. I love the experience of living with such a messy brain (lol, there's a point to the username).

But somedays, like today, I'm experiencing the suckier side. The side that rears it's head when you've somehow wormed your way in to a very high-pressure, very repetitive and boring, very *neurotypical* job. I'm not sure how I got here, but man, a pay above minimum wage was mint enough for me to try. So by some stroke of fate and perhaps lapse of my employers judgement, I'm in a job that pays bloody well but my God it hurts my brain so badly. I could cope, I think, if it weren't for the social agony this has caused.

My boss is quick to criticise my work, and because I'm in such a high performing team, work that I am busting my ass to make adequate isn't good enough. She's told me "you're doing a good job, we just need to make you great!". I get the job done, but it might be a day later. There might be a small mistake every once in a while. I might have to ask questions about something you've told me before. It's led to me being put on an HR mandated performance improvement plan. I think I would be doing better if I wasn't under constant surveillance, as part of this means that my boss has asked to be bcc'd into all my emails to keep track of my work.

I did warn people about the issues I have when I was hired 10 months ago, so they were aware. I've tried to be as open in my communications as possible to everyone and say "hey, real sorry for this, here's what I'll do next time to make it better".

And yet, people have started ostracising me in those little ways they do when they're wanting to push you out. They've become really annoyed with me and started doing small things, like telling you last minute that the meeting has changed rooms. Speaking to me differently as if I wasn't able to comprehend basic instructions. But it's grown to leaving the office at the end of the day, turning the lights off, and not saying goodbye while I'm still there, now a little confused and a bit lonely sitting in a dark room. They make jokes out loud in an open plan office and subtly ignoring my contributions. It's not outright to anyone else looking in, but given that I don't do those things to people, even if I dislike them, I find it hard not to take offence.

It feels like primary school all over again. High school was a little different, I was able to be more me. But this is soul sucking. I woke up this morning about to cry because I didn't want to go in, and had a vivid memory of 7 year old messybrain breaking down in tears, screaming and kicking and refusing to go to school. The echoes of that so neatly fit into the wavelengths of what I was feeling this morning.

This is only my second fulltime job, I'm very new on the scene. But my first was not at all like this. I maybe would have stayed longer if the pay were as good as this one. I had a community and it made all the difference. Once a job was done, it was done until a year's time when it came around again.

I guess I'm just feeling sad and rejected. This is not the place for me and I need to find a kinder tide. There is hope. There really is, if I've found community once I can do it again. I refuse to let this dim my spark.

But for now, I'm a little melancholy, a little broke due to debt, and a little tired and in need of a soft place to curl into. And a few moments scrolling on this cursed website to remind me that there are other wonderful weirdos out there like me.

I hope everyone who reads this knows that you are already worthy of love and belonging just as you are. You don't have to hustle for it. And it's okay if we want to curl into a soft place for a bit and feel sad and down. I'm right there with you. There are other people like us out there. There's space for us in this beautiful world. You matter and I'm glad you're here.

[ardent-musings]

“Strike Three?” A Neville Longbottom Smut

EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS OF LEGAL AGE AND CONSENTING

Warnings: NSFW 18+, sub!nev, dom!femreader, swearing, slapping (one hit), oral (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, slight degradation, unprotected sex. (WRAP IT UP YALL)

He wasn't happy anymore.

No matter how hard he tried to convince you he was happy being an Auror, his growing exhaustion and increased amount of nightmare alerted you to his unease. Your once happy and relaxed Neville would come home, only to be reminded of his time in the war. When he was recruited by the Ministry to work for them, he felt honored; for the first time he was really being recognized for his strength and bravery.

But that wasn't who he was. Neville wasn't made to hunt down dark wizards his whole life. He was made for something kinder. Something that wouldn't make him come home looking half alive.

Just like he did today.

"Hi, bubs," you sighed as you caught notice of his dark sullen under eyes.

"Hi, petal," he responded while dropping onto the couch with a huff. He started rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

He was hunched over and tense, the veins in his neck were popped from the strain his job put him under. Unable to see him suffer, you went behind him to rub and massage the sore spot near the base of his neck.

"Love," Neville groans at your skilled fingers working at the knots in his muscle. His deep throaty whine made your stomach twist.

"Does that help any, my love?" You hummed near his ear, massaging behind it to release the ache in his neck.

"It feels perfect," he replied quietly, mewling at the soft digs against his skin.

His head dipped back, exposing the expanse of his skin to your greedy eyes. Neville was always a cutie pie; however, the boy really grew up. Ever since he ran DA during his seventh year, Neville was a combination of gentle power and taunt muscle. He grew out of his baby fat, and sprung up into the attractive man you knew and fell in love with. You loved him however he looked; but his tight shoulder muscles looked beautiful under your fingertips.

Neville's eyes were closed, his mouth dropped open at the feel of your hands against his skin. But before he could enjoy it too much, you stopped massaging is neck and rounded the couch to face him.

He was tired and sore, but his eyes burned into yours with lust, but there was no signs of fire or fight in his olive brown irises.

You knelt down, sitting on your heels as you rubbed up and down the expanse of his work pants.

"I wanna play with you, love," you whispered to your tired boy.

He whined lowly, a sound that lit up the fire in your stomach and sent a chill down your spine. Neville was always so beautiful when he gave up all premonitions and embraced your control.

"I wanna play with you," you repeated while unbuckling the silver hardware of his belt. His eyes closed, brows furrowing, and chest heaving as you toyed with the waistband of his jeans.

"Love," he groaned, although, the words barely escaping his pouty pink lips, "God, please do whatever you want to me."

"Is that an order?" You cautioned. Neville was not going to be in control tonight; both of you knew it. But you needed him to be aware of the power dynamic this given night.

"No!" he cried. "No, no, that wasn't an order."

"Then what was it?"

He shifted in his seat, wiggling as you dragged the belt out of the looped holes and began making quick work of his zipper.

"What was it?" You asked with a bit more grit.

"A plead? Fuck!"

Neville's explanation was cut short, the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock was already an overwhelming feeling and the most release he had gotten all day. You gripped onto his thigh with a firm grasp, nails digging lightly into the soft skin, making your boy groan at the light scratch marks that littered his leg.

"Wanna feel good, baby boy?" You teased. "Want me to play with your pretty cock until I get you off?"

"God, fuck yes," he whined, the words coming out in pieces as you flicked your wrist, pumping only the tip of his dick. You knew just how sensitive he was there.

Neville cried out at the slap you administered to her thigh, making him jump and groan in pleasure at the tingly sting. The pale skin already started turning red: a sign of your time together.

"Yes, what?" You teased as you kitten licked him all while you massaged his heavy balls in a single hand, the other one teased the inside of his thigh.

"Yes, ma'am," his brows furrowed in the middle, a mixture of both pain and pleasure etched across every inch of his cute face.

Having literally the situation in the palm of your hand, you wanted to fully take advantage of the strong man in front of you. Your speed increased, making Neville whine and moan out quiet whimpers at the feelings you were imposing on him.

His neck covered in a thin layer of sweat and goosebumps, every nerve and neuron was fired up at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. You giggled and slapped him against your tongue, treating him like your little toy to play with.

"God fucking damnit," Neville pouted, threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your neck, bucking up into your warm mouth for even more friction. He just needed a few more pumps to get off.

But you wouldn't let him.

Strike one.

With a pop, you rose from your kneeled position, just to straddle his lap and grab him by his throat, pinning him to the back of the couch. Neville's eyes were blown wide from his delayed high, his mouth dropping in pleasure at the squeeze around his neck.

"Did I say you could touch me, sweet slut?"

"No," he groaned, his dick leaking desperately against his work shirt, "I'm sorry. Please, god, I'm sorry. Love, please make me cum."

"You wanna cum?" You mocked back to him in a sickeningly sweet voice, your grip tightening slightly around his neck. "Does my big boy wanna cum for me?"

Your boyfriend mumbled his wishes and desires, his thumb grazing the exposed skin at the hem of your shirt, just yearning for a touch of your skin.

Strike two.

"I said no touching, Nev," you chastised as you grabbed both of his wrists and pinning them to the couch cushions, leaving him laying down beneath you. "Shirt off. Now."

The sweet, sensitive boy responded immediately, his work shirt was gone in a second. He was now fully naked beneath you, his skin was littered with scars and healing bruises, and yet he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. And he was yours.

"Get to work, pretty baby," you instructed as you shuffled up his chest, hovering your clothed pussy over his chest. "Think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, yes, please, love. Sit on my face, petal. I'll make you feel so good."

Neville had totally disregarded his own release, the idea of getting you off gave him something to focus on. And you weren't going to ask a second time. So within seconds, you sat with knees around his shoulders, waiting for Nev's next move considering his wrists were still pinned above his head.

"Want me to sit down, honey? Think you can eat my pussy as good as you can fuck it?"

His head craned higher, trying to get a taste of you before he was even given permission. Your teasing was growing to be too much, his cock rested on his lower belly, dreadfully sensitive from being left on the edge.

Graciously, you lowered yourself to his face, grinding lightly against his crooked nose for the meantime. Neville groaned at your taste, his tongue dipping to trace along your panties and to suck against your clit. The one thing Neville was always fantastic at, was eating your out. But seeing his arms pinned above him, made you even wetter; it was always a sight to see when Neville grew so desperate to get you off.

"Keep your hands up," you ordered as you then brought your hands the his hair, tugging and dragging his face against your cunt, doing your best to get off before he ever could.

Reluctant moans left your lips, Neville was just too good with his mouth.

"Wanna get me off, toy?" You taunted, finding it filthy how all your boyfriend could do was moan in response against your panties. "Think you can even get me off like that? Only using your mouth to get me off, yeah?"

Once again, all your boy could do was groan against you, taking in every grind and hair pull with a smile and a twitch to his cock.

"Fuck, Neville, you're gonna make me cum. Get me there, honey. Get your girl to feel good."

And he did. It only took a few more swivels of your pussy against his hungry lips to make your back arch. You dug his hands into the couch beneath him, fully grinding his face as if it were a pillow. He made you cum incredibly hard, your legs shook around his head as you filled with the feeling of your high.

You released his hands and resituated your legs to cradle his hips, now straddling him. Neville's chin was glistening in your cum, making him lick his lips as if he had just eaten some delicious candy or butterbeer.

"Now's your time baby," You promised as you grabbed his cock and lined it up with you. "But you gotta work for it."

Neville's confused look amused you, you could see the gears turning in his head.

"I'm not gonna sink down onto your cock, pretty boy."

It took Neville a second to understand, but he got the memo. Without touching you, he began snapping his hips up into your soaked and sensitive cunt. His deepness was surprising, given the fact that you refused to put in  the extra bit of work. But Neville was desperate beyond relief, his hips jutted off the couch to fuck you deep and fast even if you weren't meeting him halfway. You rubbed at your clit as Neville threw his head back at the squeeze of you against him.

"Gonna cum, pretty boy?" You asked while gripping onto his hair.

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck.." Neville groaned out loudly, his hips stuttering as he worked himself into a sweat. "Fuck, please let me cum. Let me cum. Love."

"Go on, love," you moaned above him, growing close to your second release. "Cum for me. "

Neville cried out loudly as you began bouncing furiously on top of him, giving him the friction he needed. He fully forgot the "no touching" rule, as he ran his hands up and down your smooth thighs as you both came in unison.

His cries and your demands were like a catalyst to the other, making your orgasms so incredibly intense. You fell on top of his bare chest, placing kisses against his collarbone and Adam's apple. A gentle blow of air against his neck made Neville groan, his body sensitive from all the teasing but so wonderfully taken care of all the same.

He twirled you hair between his fingers, finding comfort in your softest features.

"Thank you, petal. I needed that so much," he admitted with blushing cheeks.

"Of course my love, I just hate seeing you so stressed from work. You deserve to do something you adore, honey."

"I adore you."

[hopeamarsu]

Hello m'lady! I'm so excited to see you're accepting prompts! If this strikes your fancy, may I request : “What happened to us?” and “I can be your reason why.” for our Frankie??? ANGST HOTEL HERE WE COME...MAYBE?!? Thank you for your time 💚🌿💚

My darling lady, I'm so happy to get your request! 💚

One huge dose of angsty Frankie coming right up. Oh, this one has a happy ending too. I hope you enjoy this, I'm sending a lot of hugs your way.

I can be your reason why

Frankie Morales x gn!reader

Word count 1,4k

Warnings: Hospitals, accident, mention of drunk driver, mention of death (Frankie was in the army), angst, sad sad sad, pining, hopeful ending

The room is so white, right down to the bedsheet that covers your lower half.

The white machines hooked on your body, keeping a check on vitals and making sure you are fine, look like something out of a sci-fi film for Frankie. He hates that he has to see them in multitudes as well as the monitors above your bed drawing lines as you breathe and your heart pumps blood and medicine all over your body, healing you.

To say he’d been surprised to get the call from the hospital at 4 in the morning was an understatement when he’d been shocked to the core. Ever since you had had a big fight with him all those months ago, something that was still unsettled and gnawed at his guts, Frankie had been certain he’d been crossed off the list for good and he had only himself to blame.

He had tried to scrub the yelling, the insults, and the low blows out of his mind, but every time he’d glance at his phone and see his wallpaper of you and his daughter smiling together and it would all come back.

“Fuck you, Frankie! I can’t believe you out of all the people would say this! You were supposed to be my friend!”

“Cariño, please…”

“NO! No Frankie, just no. You’ve gone too far this time.”

“Please, please let me explain. Please.”

“Absolutely not. I heard you loud and clear the first time Francisco and, God, what happened to us? Where did we go wrong? I thought you’d… I thought you understood… I thought...”

He can still hear the sniffles, feel the pain in his stomach as he watches you slam the door on his face on the film reel in his mind, and the desperation that creeps up his spine as his texts and calls go unanswered for weeks. He remembers asking the guys to call you and the mountain of ice spreading through his veins when Will told him that you had blocked his number and didn’t want him to contact you.

Frankie contemplated going to your house after that, but what good would it do? He was broken, beaten and lying breathless on the ground. Nothing would help him rise from there. Definitely not you. He is still all those things and more because he doesn’t have you beside him to weather out the stormy seas.

Getting cut off from you hurt him on levels he had trouble comprehending. Frankie had gotten used to you being around, comfortable in the knowledge that you had always been there as his friend and would always be there and that was his grave mistake.

All those moments in the playground swing back in teenage years when he escaped the yelling and shouting in his house, turbulent times in college where he began experimenting with his sexuality and life all the way to his high-risk career in the Army, the coke rap and losing his lady to another man. You had always been there for him.

You had been his rock and his most ardent supporter, Santi hot on your heels but never reaching the level of trust and intimacy you shared with Frankie. All the times he fucked up, needed a shoulder to cry on or a couch to sleep off his desire to go out and find one of his bad habits for a visit, you opened your door to help him. And what had he done for you? Fuck all but trouble and heartbreak and pain in measures he can never pay back.

He hangs his head, his ballcap twisted between his fists as he wrings the fabric to give himself something to do. He would do anything, everything to take back the last 3 and half months and just hold you tight and tell you that he believes in you and will stand by you in all the ways you want him.

But you are sleeping, eyes closed, hooked up to all the machines that monitor your body and Frankie cannot do that. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed to touch you, because just being in the same room as you without your permission feels like an invasion of sorts.

“Cariño, if you can hear me, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for all the words, all the insults thrown in your face and all the pain I’ve caused you. I wish… I wish I could take it all back.”

He whispers, placing his hand next to you where it lays on top of the bedsheet. The difference between them shocks him still, your elegant fingers next to his calloused and battered ones. The way your skin is unmarred by scars where he has all these silver lines criss-crossing his knuckles.

Taking care to avoid the IV line, he gently moves your hand into his and sighs at the first connection in months. The softness of your hand against his roughness is still something out of a dream; how something so beautiful and lovely and gorgeous could ever want something so dark, drenched in the blood of people he’s killed and lost count of is a mystery Frankie never hopes to have to solve.

Like a thief in the night, he steals yet one more moment with you as he squeezes your hand gently. And like a greedy one too, he rises from the creaky plastic hospital chair and kisses your forehead, pushing his luck a little further. Frankie begins talking, his deep timbre bouncing off the walls as he tells you stories you’ve heard a thousand times already but which bring him comfort.

His thumb strokes your knuckles softly, a soothing gesture more for him than you, while he continues telling you things. Time ticks by and Frankie’s voice grows tired and gravely, but he refuses to stop. He talks about Will, Benny and Santi, the ways all of them get together weekly and he talks about Olivia, his pride and joy, and how she grows and how she misses you. How he misses his friend.

The tone tinges with sadness as Frankie starts to talk about your accident and what has happened in the past couple of days. “They caught him, the drunk bastard that ran the red light. He’s in custody and the traffic cameras have him on tape. You are not going to have to see him, he’ll be locked up for a good time. You just need to get better, cariño, so you can kick my ass in softball again and tell me Oreos taste superior when dunked in cold milk.”

He takes a deep breath, blinking away to keep his raw emotions hidden. Had you not changed your medical info and your contact in case of emergency details, he wouldn’t even be here with you, known about your accident, and the mere idea breaks him, wounds him deep. He hides his tears in his sleeve as he tries to gather himself up again. Frankie needs to be strong now, you have a long recovery ahead of you and he will do his best to help you.

“Te amo, mi corazón y mi alma. Por favor, vuelve a mi. I want to kiss you and tell you I belong to you, that I love you more than as a friend. You hold my heart already and I will gladly give it to you if you come back to me. Smile for me again. I can be your reason why, I’ll do anything to see your soft lips grinning at me, with me...” It becomes too much and Frankie folds in half, draping his upper body on the bed as he cries uncontrollably.

He doesn’t know how long he weeps, the seconds and minutes all blurring together as the sleeves of his shirt go from damp to soaked but he doesn’t care. Frankie loves you and he almost lost you for good and he cannot hold it in anymore. He loves you and he needs to tell you.

He’s so deep inside his mind that he doesn’t recognize the weight on top of his head first. But when fingers card through his locks repeatedly and the motion registers, he’s shocked into reality. Frankie lifts his head carefully, eyes blurry and almost afraid of what he will see.

Your eyes are droopy but the small upturn of the corners of your lips as you regard him softly forces another sob from his chest and it takes all of his willpower not to kiss you right then and there. Your hand doesn’t stop moving as you look at each other in silence, fingers in his curls and Frankie is finally back home, breathing freely.

His lips move, though no sound comes out, telling you te amo over and over again.

Everything taglist @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mind-p0llution @mariesackler

[jisvnq]

[ 02:14AM ]

title | more to you

genre | angst, friends with benefits!au

warnings | swearing

word count | 0.8k

requested | by anonymous

description | where jisung wants you, yet at the same time, wants to be more to you.

parts | one [🍜] ; two-one ; two-two [🍧]

z.txt | i suppose this can be read alone, but it wouldn't hurt if you read part one too 🥰 and also, part two-two to this series has nothing to do with this part lol, just something i thought of off the bat, i guess jsdhs also wow tumblr really shits with my gifs' qualities huh

Jisung gulped when he felt you nibble his earlobe, kissing along his jaw and sucking in a few more marks that Jaemin would surely have a headache trying to help him cover up the next morning. But even throughout all this, he couldn't help but overthink.

Sure, he wanted you. What idiot wouldn't want your lingering kisses and fleeting touches?

But he had a problem. The two of you were nothing more than just best friends. And he wanted you. He wanted all of you.

Not just your kisses, not just your touches. He wanted more than that. He wanted to be more to you. Not just the best friend you made out with every night when you both felt like it.

"Y/n," Jisung sighed, gently pushing you away and making you look at him in confusion, concern washing over your features. "Look, I'm- I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore."

"Jisung?" you whispered, sitting up beside him as he held his head in his hands. You put a hand on his shoulder and he sighed. "Ji, did I do something wrong? Tell me. Did I hurt you?"

Jisung would have laughed if it wasn't for the heavy tension now present in the air between you.

You couldn't hurt a fly, much less your best friend. But there you were. Somehow managing to strike him where it hurt the most, and you didn't even know it.

"Jisung, you can tell me, you know?" you told him worriedly. "We're still best friends past all this... right?"

"You- you didn't do anything wrong, N/n," Jisung finally said, absolutely refusing to look at you despite your insistent attempts to get him to meet your eyes. "In fact, you're doing everything right and it's driving me fucking crazy. I know you don't mean to hurt me, but I'm just fucking stupid."

"Doing everything— what do you mean, Jisung?" you asked him with furrowed eyebrows. "I hurt you? What did I do? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that I'm fucking in love with you, Y/n," Jisung finally let out, looking up at you with flushed cheeks. "God, every single night, it gets worse. I don't want to leave, I never do, but I know still have to if I don't want to ruin whatever the fuck we have going on right now."

He only glanced at you for a moment before instantly looking away, almost as if he couldn't stand seeing you. But really, it was the complete opposite. He knew he wouldn't be able to look away from you once he did.

"I- I don't want to let go of the thin little string that keeps me hoping you might like me back, even just a bit," he said, trying to lower his voice as much as he could as to not draw any unwanted attention from outside. "And whenever I see you with some random bastard who's so obviously hitting on you, and you- you're too nice to say anything, I just want to butt in, punch him in the stomach or something, and tell him to fuck off because you're my girl."

He sighed, finally meeting your eyes for a bit longer. "But I don't, Y/n. I don't because you aren't my girl."

Jisung took a deep breath and shook his head as he stood up, feeling his heart clench, dropping down to his stomach. "And now that I've ruined everything between us, I don't think you ever will be. Good night, Y/n."

He paused for a moment in front of your window and he wished, he hoped for you to tell him that you needed him, that you wanted him, to tell him to stay. He counted up to five in his head slowly, waiting for you to do something, to do anything to stop him from leaving.

But you didn't.

Maybe you just didn't like him back and he really did fuck everything up.

He snuck back out through your window without another word. He quickly ran across the slightly slippery rooftops that lead to his own window, almost falling over when he sees Jaemin peeking out to watch him. Jaemin watched sadly as the boy opened the window. Sighing, he already had an idea of what might have happened by the younger one's gloomy expression alone.

"Do you want to–"

"No, I'm not gonna talk about it," Jisung said, heaving out a tired sigh as soon as Jaemin opened his mouth to speak again.

Jaemin nodded, helping the boy back in and drawing the curtains back over the window, watching as the boy sighed once more, falling face-first into his bed.

"I'm gonna go try sleeping now," Jisung told the older boy. "And you should too. G'night, Jaem. Thanks for all the help..."

[sisterkosho]

Sweet Dreams | Chapter 1

Warnings: None for today! Unless you count "slightly creepy" as a warning.

Notes: After all this time, I've finally started writing Ayume's story. It's not her bio unfortunately, but it's something. This admittedly wasn't even what I had been trying to work on the past couple weeks. But motivation randomly struck and here we are. This is the first time I'm writing a bigger story like this, so I hope y'all can bear with me since it won't be the best. But I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Tick tock... Tick tock... Tick tock...

That god forsaken sound was all that could be heard echoing from within the darkened room. A young girl lay restless on her bed as she watched the clock strike 12. Her eyes only growing heavier as each moment passed. She was tired. Oh so tired. Yet she knew sleep would never come, no matter how hard she tried. She felt nauseous, and her head was pounding. Chills ran down her entire body as a sinking feeling of dread twisted itself into the pit of her stomach. It was cold. Too cold. 

Her eyes squeezed shut, in a silent prayer that it would all just go away. That for once, she could rest easy. But it never seemed to be enough. The thoughts that plagued her only growing worse as each night passed, flashing through her mind on repeat each time she so much as closed her eyes. Never had she felt so helpless, yet her tears had long since dried after the first few sob filled nights. All she could muster now was a sigh of defeat as she climbed out of bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders in an attempt to cling onto whatever warmth she could. The floorboards creaked ever so slightly beneath her feet as she made her way over to her bedroom window, allowing moonlight to illuminate the small room as she drew back the curtains.  

One might assume that the unknown of the night would only cause that feeling of unease to grow, yet the soft glow of the moon and sight of the star filled sky seemed to comfort her ever so slightly. The only thing that was able to bring her any sort of peace during nights like these. In fact, It wasn't uncommon to find her fast asleep on the window seat by the time morning came, her head resting upon the glass. Though tonight, she'd be lucky if she managed to get any sleep at all. It must have been over a week by now since that incident. Yet the memory was still as fresh in her mind as the day it had occured. 

The weather had been perfect that afternoon. So of course, her mother had suggested she go outside to play in the garden. It was her favorite thing to do on days like these after all. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary in the slightest. That was, aside from the young boy that stood just outside the gate. The one the girl had been too focused on the pretty flowers in front of her to notice. Though, it didn't take long for the sinking feeling of being watched to creep it's way into her stomach. It was odd to her, how unrecognizable he was. What with all the connections her parents had in the small town that they lived in. Yet, she didn't think much of it at all. Perhaps he had just moved in nearby, or was there visiting a family member. Whatever the case may have been, he looked rather lonely. 

"Do you wanna come play with me?" The girl had innocently asked. Yet, the boy simply stood in silence. If not for the slow tilt of his head, she would have assumed he hadn't even heard her at all. It was as if he didn't understand a single word she spoke. It wasn't until she was about to ask him if he was alright that she noticed it. His eyes. His dark, hollow eyes staring straight at her. The longer he stared, the more afraid she became. Her heartbeat began to quicken, her breathe heavy as the air around her seemingly grew cold. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Everything inside her was telling her to run. To get away from there as quickly as possible. She could've easily made a break for the back door, but her legs felt numb. All she could do was watch helplessly as the boy's hand reached up to latch onto the gate. The voice that came out from his lips didn't even sound human, sending chills down her spine as he spoke. "G..Got....G...Games...?" He had asked as he continued to slowly climb over the gate, Who could've known that such a silly question could instill such fear. 

The girl's chest began to tighten, to the point she could hardly breathe. Her hands flew to her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she began to hyperventilate. Though somehow, in her panic induced state, she managed to pick up a small rock off the ground, swinging back her arm and launching it in the boy's direction as she screamed. "Go away... Go away... GO AWAY---" 

It was at this that boy's face turned from that of a blank stare, to a look so contorted in fear that it looked as inhuman as the piercing shriek that ripped through his throat. The next few moments were all a blur. All she could remember was her father bursting through the back door, yelling things about "how the hell a curse managed to get in here." Of course, none of it made any sense to the girl. All she knew, was that what she had just experienced wasn't natural. No, it was something much, much darker. And she never wanted to see it again. Though as she would soon come to understand, the life that she had now found herself in was not one that was so easily left behind. 

Ayume Nejireta never wanted to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

And yet, this was the path that had been laid out for her from the moment she was born. "You will be strong." They had said. "Protect the weak." After all, It was she who had been blessed with the power to change the world, wasn't it? Or at least, that's what she had been lead to believe by all those around her. She had heard the way her father had spoken of her, to man with the golden button that had arrived at their home just days later. 

"Of all my four children, only my eldest daughter inherited the family technique." He had explained. "The curse she encountered was weak. Likely a grade 3 at best. But by the time I had arrived, she had completely incapacitated it. Had she been prepared for such a situation, I don't doubt she could've exorcised it herself." 

The girl in question sat just outside the door, listening closely to every word he spoke. Just thinking about that dreadful afternoon and all those sleepless nights made her skin crawl. Never again. That's what she had been telling herself. It was the only thing keeping to her sane after that. Never again. But her father, it seemed, had different plans for her.

"She has potential. Under the care of Jujutsu Tech, I'm certain she'll be a great sorcerer." The smile never once fell from his face as he spoke. It was clear that he took great pride in his daughter, or rather, what she had done. Her "technique" as he called it. She had something her other siblings did not, and he would do whatever it took to ensure that it didn't go to waste. This was the chance their family had been waiting for. To make their name known to the rest of the Jujutsu world. All thanks to her, their beloved daughter. All according to plan. 

Ayume Nejireta never wanted to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

And yet, this was the path that had been laid out for her from the moment she was born. And really, who was she to refuse? 

[oh-to-imagine]

Can you write something angsty that turns sweet and fluffy with Luke Skywalker? Thanks for being back, I'm happy to see you!

A.N. I hope the ending is fluffy enough for you! Thanks for requesting my favorite farmboy jedi~ 

Takes place after an incident where the reader got hurt by one of the emperors men in an attempt to get to Luke.

It was one of those rare moments in the rebel base that could almost qualify as ‘quiet’, though the term didn’t quite fit. It was never really quiet, there was always something to do, a rebellion never slept. But at the moment there was no space-side dog fights with imperial cruisers, no immanent threat of having to evacuate due to probe droids being detected on the planets surface. Normally you’d welcome the calm moment, relish it as a moment to spend with the man you loved.

Right now it just reminded you of the void his absence left.

You allowed this to be a moment of self pity, running your thumb over the pendant he had given you just some months ago as a birthday present. You knew Leia would give you some assignment or another to distract you if she saw your current  gloomy state, but you were in a more confrontational mood and unless the mission involved punching something it wouldn’t do any good.

When you heard R2-D2 round the corner you knew Luke wouldn’t be far behind, so you rose, the pendant digging into the flesh of your palm as you clutched it. R2 seemed to freeze when he noticed you standing in the corridor, giving an uncomfortable beep and surging forward on his wheels at a suddenly high speed.

“Where are you speeding off to all of the sudde-” Luke cut himself short when he saw you standing there, his eyes going wide. For a jedi master who was meant to harness his emotions, he certainly liked to avoid the after math of his actions like the plague.

“We need to talk.” you said simply. God, how many times had you said that over the last two weeks?

Luke shook his head, already stepping into a retreat back down the hallway. “I already told you, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Gritting your teeth you stepped between him and the door. “Oh don’t worry, I’m not here to try prying answers from you for the dozenth time. No matter how much I deserve them.” Two weeks. Two weeks since he had told you that your relationship was over. Two weeks since he had broken your heart and refused to tell you why. No reasoning, not even a ‘it’s not you it’s me’ excuse, just this empty ‘I’m sorry’ as he left you in the med wing to heal from your last mission.

“Then what-”

“I’m here to return this.” You cut across him, holding out the pendant. And a surge of anger wrestled in the pit of your stomach when a hurt look crossed his face. He dared to look hurt after- when he was the one who broke your heart!?

“That…that was a gift, you shouldn’t feel the need to return it.” he said, his voice low and failing to hide the hurt that flickered in his blue eyes.

“I’m not going to keep it. You gave it to me because we were together and-” you had to take a deep breath to avoid your voice cracking with emotion “If what we had together didn’t mean anything to you, than neither did this, and I don’t want it.”

Maybe all this was petty, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that if he was going to avoid you and act like the last two years you spent together meant nothing, well, you weren’t going to leave any doubt in his mind that you were going to move on out of sheer spite if nothing else.

Luke ran a hand through his hair “It’s a charm to ward off danger” he repeated a clinical version of the tale he told you when he first gave it to you “you should keep it if just to have something that might protect you when you’re out on the field.”

“Why can’t you just listen to what I want?!” the bitterness made the words snap out at him like an ill tempered tauntaun. “I don’t want it when all I think about is you when I look at it.”

One stride forward and you were shoving it into his palm. One glimpse of the shock and pain striking his features before you turned on your heel and walked away.

That night you were laying in your bunk, worried you would have yet another restless night instead of sleep. When someone knocked on your door you thought about ignoring it, but the thought that it may be someone there to discuss something important made you crawl out of bed and answer.

You were not expecting Luke to be standing on the other side. he looked…desperate, eyes tired and red with emotion and a brow furrowed with…conviction perhaps?

Stunned, you were about to ask what he was doing, when he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and pressing familiar lips to yours. It only took a moment to get over the shock and soon you were tangling your fingers in his sandy blonde hair, pulling his body against yours as he moved with you, deeper into your quarters letting the door slide shut.

His lips moved to trail kissed along your jaw before they pressed against your ear. “I’m sorry.” he whispered “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

As much as you wanted him to continue the frenzy of kisses, answers needed to come first. “Why? I still don’t understand Luke.” Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes. “We were fine and suddenly, you just… didn’t want me anymore. Now your back to holding me and telling me you’re sorry?”

He adverted his gaze, casting it off to the side, ashamed. “I was…I guess I was punishing myself. When you ended up hurt during our last mission on Yavin…” he let out a curse and laid  his forehead against your shoulder. “It was my fault you got hurt. I couldn’t get to you in time and he hurt you to get to me. I should have gone with you, I should have sensed the danger- but I didn’t. I thought…I thought letting you go, cutting myself off from you would help keep you safe. I thought you deserved better.”

“You… are such an idiot sometimes.” there wasn’t any venom in the words. You moved so he was looking into your eyes again. “You may be a jedi, but even you can’t protect me from everything. We’re fighting a war, Luke, sometimes things are going to go wrong, and when they do, I want you by my side.”

He placed a small kiss on your forehead, whispering “I know that now, I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

“Depends. What made you have this realization?”

When he held up the pendant you had practically thrown at him that morning you knew what he was going to say. “When you gave this back to me, I realized that it was really over, that I had really thrown away one of the best connections in my life and that you were trying to move on. I couldn’t stop thinking about you with someone else and…”

You let him trail off, occupying him instead with another passionate kiss. The anger, the heartbreak, it melted away with every moment of the embrace, every inch his hands trailed over your back, every ‘I’m sorry’ he whispered as he pressed desperate kisses over your cheeks, neck, brow.

You were sure a more in-depth conversation about  his actions needed to be had, but for now, for now you were content just to have him in your arms again.

[chemical-cat]

Just an update on me as a person...

So over the last few days I've been very quiet not only here, but on other platforms as well, especially on my tiktok.

Overall, I've just been trying to work on myself as a person. In the last 3-4 years, I've slipped into a rut, in which some of the behaviors I personally do are not healthy not only to myself but to my partner as well. Now they aren't anything abusive or anything like that, but to me personally they just aren't healthy and I wanted to work on myself.

Over the last year, I've been out of work mainly because I've been having significant health issues which have ultimately impacted my life to the point where I can't work a regular job because within the first 90 days, I'm running the risk of being fired because I'm having to either call in because I'm sick or if I try and push through, my previous jobs would send me home but still tie on a "strike" because I was a liability. (Even in some of these jobs where I worked a year or more, I would be on management's shitlist because of that despite me trying to push through as much as possible.) I've been dealing with these particular health issues for almost 5-6 years now, and while I have been actively seeking medical care for it, I've become so exhausted and tired. I'm tired of the countless tests, the pokes and prads, that result in absolutely no answers and sky high medical bills. I'm tired of countlessly being brushed off as a hypochondriac when I have people in my life, friends/family/partners there with me looking my doctors in the face and telling them they witnessed what I'm saying and that it's true.

I've had so many doctors look at me and tell me so many things that have broken me over the years, I've always been a very petite individual to the point I was labeled as a failure to thrive when I was 9 because I was failing to put on weight the way I should and to grow, I had stalled overall from growing. I have never had an eating disorder, and I will openly state that, if I did I would be honest about it because I fully understand that if I did I could get help and honestly if I did, then I would finally have an answer to my health problems. But I don't, I have always been able to out eat my younger brothers and family. However despite this, despite being with a family practioner who has watched my weight bounce around like a yo yo, and who knows I personally follow their advice for my diet and have tried multiple different changes to my diet just to try and maintain a solid weight, I have experienced my whole life being brushed off because of my size and that I must simply have an eating disorder that I'm to ashamed to admit. However, as I've pointed out several times to various doctors these crucial points if I did:

If I was anorexic, then not only after 5 years would it show but there would be other significant issues (not to mention I'm only putting this is into the 5 years where I have been experiencing health issues not the whole timeline of my life)

If I was bulimic, then I would be having issues with my throat being burned from throwing up constantly, as well as there would potentially be damage to the flap that covers your lungs from food/your stomach from getting air in it and it wouldn't work properly. Not to mention that throwing up has ALWAYS given me panic attacks and anxiety ever since I was a child, now as an adult who has ptsd for me personally, when I throw up I go into a panic attack, which more often then not during the panic attack ends up triggering my ptsd and I end up having flashbacks despite throwing up and the ptsd being unrelated. So personally I don't like throwing up, and I try my hardest not to.

Despite this, over the last year I've had so many negative experiences that it is beyond frustrating. Perfect example being that I went into the ER one night because I was throwing up so badly that I couldn't even hold water down, I was terrified. I couldn't even drive myself, I had to have my mother drive me to the ER at 3-4 am. When we got there, the doctor was completely dismissive and rude from the beginning, insisting that I was pregnant (just from looking at me when he entered the room), when I said there was no way I was pregnant, he got irritated and asked how I would possibly know if I wasn't pregnant (not like it's my own body, god forbid if I know whether or not there was a chance I was pregnant that I would or wouldn't know), when I replied that not only had I had my period every month like clockwork (and that alone isn't usual for me as I have pcos), but that I was currently on my period, as well as the biggest factor being that the last time I had sex was over 7 months ago so I think I'd know if I was 7 months pregnant, he dismissed me and insisted on doing a pregnancy test because he was sure I was pregnant. Which I did with no complaints just to show him that I knew what I was talking about, when the test came back negative, he entered the room and then insisted I had an eating disorder simply based off the fact that I was petite, and when I got reasonably upset at this and told him he was wrong, he once again said how would I possibly know. By this point my mom piped up, and defended me insisting I don't have an eating disorder, and that I out eat my younger brothers (one who is an adult and the other two who are teens), to which he replied with "in all due respect ma'am, how do you know she's not throwing it up later? You may see her eat in front of you, and then she goes and throws it up later, and she's just doing this for attention?" (Yes. He openly stated that I was in the ER at 4 in the morning, when I had to work that morning because I was 'doing it for attention') by this point I was irritated, stressed (because among a string of irrational phobias, I've always had a phobia since I was a child of doctors of any kind and hospitals, so being in a hospital is extremely stressful and scary to me.) I snapped, I was just so done with him as a doctor and wanted to go home, and I told him "because we live in a 115 year old house, and I can hear my parents fucking from one end of the house all the way on the other, so I'm pretty sure they would know if I was throwing up. Now are you actually going to help or can I just fucking go home?" To which he got huffy, and stated I had a stomach bug and released me. In the last 5 years, I've experienced many doctors like this and it is so beyond exhausting. I wish I was making up my symptoms, I wish I was being a hypochondriac because then I would have an answer, and I would honestly know it's all in my head.

Over the 3 years, I've experienced so much depression over this that I've lost a lot of joy in the things I once loved. Simply because as much as I wish it was in my head, I know it's not and the others around me have insisted that it's not either. Yet despite countless tests, there's still no answers, I'm left scared, anxious, and with no answers. At this point I don't even want a solution, I don't care about a way to fix whatever is wrong, I just want to know what's wrong.

My memory has faded to the point where I'm lucky if I can remember a conversation I had with someone 5 minutes ago. I have pass out spells where I'll faint randomly, sometimes I'm lucky and I'll get what I call 'warnings' where I'll get tunnel vision and I know I have less then 10 seconds to get down to the ground to limit possible injury to myself because either way I'm going down. The pass out spells happen whether I'm standing, walking, sitting, laying down, it doesn't matter. I get migraines so badly that it feels like someone is taking a spoon and trying to carve out the cavity where my eyeball as well as I get this hollow type sensation in my head as well. I have what I call 'eye twitches', where my pupils vibrate so fast I can't see for a minute or two, it comes on fast with no seeming cause as to why and it fades as fast as it comes on. (I have been checked multiple times by the eye doctor and it's been determined that there is no cause for this from the eye itself, and that nothing in the eye could be causing it, that other than an astigmatism my eyes are both healthy, I have been working with a neurologist and a cardiologist to get to the bottom of this). Off the top of my head, that's the major ones I can think of, I've been checked for low blood sugar, I've been checked for heart issues, I've done so many tests that I'm exhausted. This isn't a way to live, but yet I have to live in this body, in pain and scared and there are no answers.

As of now, I'm waiting on another test while fighting to get my insurance to actually pay for my medical bills (so far they're refusing and I have almost 10 grand in medical bills, for some of these tests it was verified with insurance before admistering them that they would be covered by insurance because they're expensive tests, insurance agreed it was covered and now refuses to cover anything). It's frustrating, and beyond stressful because it seems like I'm just watching the number climb, because of this I have been unable to get in for the next test I need. While I have been waiting, I've been trying to just make it day by day, I've been trying to be happy.

Because I'm tired of doctors looking at me and dismissing me based off the way my body looks, I've been desperately trying to put on more weight. Which I'm honestly happy about putting on weight because, I do have body dysmorphia and I can't stand the way I look I feel like I'm a walking skeletor, even though my friends/family/and my partner all insist I don't look like a skeletor but that I just look petite, I know it's just my own inability to see my body the way it is. So I've worked on not spending as much time in the mirror, when I do to check how an outfit looks or brush my hair that if I start saying negative things I start pointing out positive things instead, like:

A few days ago I wore a top, with a smokey type print, because this top had more print on one side over the other my first thought was how it looked like I had one boob massively bigger than the other (despite wearing a sports bra where even if that was the case it wouldn't even be that obvious, and it's natural to have one breast bigger than the other), and I pushed that thought to the side pointing out to myself that it was the way the print looked and that even if I did so what? It's natural and no one would really notice that.

I noticed I was starting to put on more weight, and started to get a little more of a tummy while wearing my favorite pair of sweatpants, initially thinking that I'd be unattractive with a 'muffin top', however I pointed out that it's ok to have a tummy, that it's natural and that having even a little bit of a muffin top is ok because I look healthier.

I've been desperately trying to work on the way my body dysmorphia shapes my reality, I know I will never get rid of it and that's ok, but I want to let myself even just some of the time find positive things about myself. During all of this, I've been tracking my diet, in doing so I have implemented a possible weird solution but it's working and that's what matters, I noticed when people diet they try to keep track of calories, and it can help them lose weight. On my phone, it has a health section, and based off my height and weight it has a section where you can monitor your diet (making sure you taking in enough protein, vitamins, veggies, if your taking in to much sodium/sugar, etc. As well as calories), based off my height and current weight, it automatically calculated a daily calorie intake to help me maintain that weight, I figured if I upped it and tried to hit at minimum that calorie intake then I may be able to gain some extra weight. (It was automatically calculated to have a daily calorie intake of 1,300 calories, so I upped it to 2,000 although if I go above that I'm not upset with myself I'm more proud than anything), as well as I'm working on taking in more protein, dairy, carbs (all three were recommended to me by my doctor to have more of these to try to maintain weight and possibly even gain weight), I've tried to scale down on how much caffeine and sugar I'm taking in as well, because I've noticed I have a fairly large sodium diet and I don't want to become dehydrated (because I also don't want dehydration headaches), so I've been trying to upscale in my water intake as well and trying to force myself to drink water versus more caffeine or soda/pop/sugary drinks. (Although, the sugar cravings definitely suck).

I've gotten a agenda/planner to help better keep track of appointments as well as just trying to set a daily schedule for myself as well (like I did back in school, especially with my memory issues so I didn't forget anything), in scheduling things I've been trying to schedule in time during every week to have a "weekend/relaxation time" where I don't do any type of work if I don't want to, a few days to just mentally de-escalate.

In terms of actual work, I've been working on making my own etsy store and products for it, reviewing other products from other businesses/tarot decks, doing tarot readings for clients both on livestreams and privately, as well as general work around the house.

In terms of my online work besides working on my shop and products for it, and doing reviews, and working with clientele in terms of tarot readings, I've also been slowly working on doing research for book reviews for witchy books. Some may see it as not legitimate work, but it's work to me, I'm trying to create an income in something that not only makes me happy but something I strongly believe in as well, but it's slow going.

Now this is just a disclaimer, I am not asking for advice, money, or opinions on my current situation or medical status. I am actively working with a medical team to best get to results as fast as they are able too, I do not want any form of donation to deal with medical debt. This was honestly just a place for me to vent away from my main profile on other platforms where people may have gotten the wrong idea and thought I was asking for money or tried to give me money, I honestly just wanted a place to vent and that's all this post is. It is a place to vent, and it's a moment in time that I can look back on in the future and see where all my progress started while I continue working on myself as a person.

[dknc3]

if you're still taking propts--“I'm tired of being your secret.”--any pairing you like, but ideally something I like :D

And . . . as part of my renewed effort to honestly clear my inbox, here’s a prompt fic for the lovely Celia from FIVE MONTHS AGO!! (I really am terrible at getting things written!)

It’s Arya x Gendry, modern AU, btw.

“I’m tired of being your secret.”

“What?” Arya was still breathing hard, staring at Gendry as if he’d lost his mind which he probably had. After all, no sane man would stop making out with the most amazing girl in the world to talk about something he knew she didn’t want to hear.

Sighing deeply, he sat up, disentangling himself from her arms and trying very hard not to look at her perfect breasts. She worried they were too small, but they were perfect--they fit just right beneath his hands and . . . “I can’t keep doing this, Arya!” he said, shaking his head somewhat violently in an effort to clear it of thoughts about his hands on her breasts.

She made no move to cover them, of course. Instead, she just lay there on the sofa with her shirt undone and her bra pushed up nearly to her neck smirking at him. “Yes, you can. I have reason to know that you can do this . . . and other things . . . much, much longer.”

“Dammit, Arya, that’s not what I mean and you know it!” He stood up and walked across the room. “God, I knew better than to bring it up,” he mumbled, not looking at her.

“Bring what up? Gendry, what are you talking about? We were having such a good time!”

She wasn’t teasing him anymore. She sounded honestly confused, which he supposed shouldn’t hurt him but it did. He turned around to find her sitting up on the sofa with her shirt still gaping open, but at least her bra was back in place. She stared up at him with those big grey eyes he so easily got lost in. “A good time,” he repeated. “Is that what we are to each other? I mean, is that all we are?”

At that, she was off the couch and standing before him with her hands on his chest in scarcely more than an instant. “Of course not! You know that, Gendry. You have to know that!”

“Do I?” he asked her, pushing her away gently. “How do I know that?”

“Oh, come on,” she drawled, nearly purring as she moved right back up against him. “Don’t I show you how I feel every time we’re together?” She smiled up at him and reached one small graceful hand up toward his face.

“No, Arya. No, you don’t,” he said simply, catching her hand in his. “You show me you like to fuck me. I mean you really like to fuck me. I know that well enough. Gods know I like to fuck you, too, but if that’s all this is, I need you to tell me now, because I care about you. I want . . . I want . . . the whole thing, Arya, and if you’re just here for a fuck buddy, I need to know so I can figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

She looked hurt, and he hated that. But as much as he wanted to simply put his arms around her and tell her to please be happy, he knew he’d put this conversation off long enough.

“I can’t believe you’re even saying this to me,” she said. Her lower lip trembled causing her to look, for once, as much younger than him as she actually was. “Gendry, I’ve never been with anyone but you. You know that! I don’t want this with . . . with anybody! I just want . . . Gendry, why are you acting like this?”

“I’m tired of being your secret,” he said again, and he could see by her face that this time she’d heard him clearly.

“Gendry, that’s not fair. It’s just that . . .”

“It’s just that your family expects you to be with someone like you--as in private school scholar, not grease monkey. They’ll have a problem with the age difference. They won’t let you see me anymore. They’ll be awful to me.” He rattled through some of the things she’d told him over the years of their friendship--a friendship which had slowly become so much more.

“Yes!” she said emphatically. “Yes! That’s exactly it!”

“But it’s all bullshit,” he said. “And I think you know it.”

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Arya, I know your family now. Have you forgotten that?”

“They don’t know that you and I . . .”

“No, they don’t. Because you refuse to tell them. Gods, I was scared to death of your family forever because of the things you said about them, but when Robb brought his car to the garage, he was just a normal guy. A better than average guy, actually. He had no qualms about striking up a friendship with a mechanic, Arya”

“Well, that’s Robb,” she protested. “And he . . .”

“Doesn’t know we’re together. Yeah. And he’s probably gonna be pissed about that. I would be. If I had a little sister and she was dating one of my friends without either of them telling me. But he’ll get over being pissed off eventually. He KNOWS both of us. Once he forgives us for sneaking around, he’ll be okay with us.”

“Robb is hardly my entire family,” she said darkly. “And don’t you dare throw Jon at me because we both know I’m not talking about him.”

“You’re talking about your parents.”

She bit her lip in that adorable way of hers, and he softened his voice. He knew she was legitimately afraid that Ned and Catelyn Stark would disapprove. For a self-professed rebel, Arya cared a great deal about her parents��� opinion of her, even if she wouldn’t admit that even under torture.

“They like me, Arya. Neither one of them has ever been anything but nice to me.” He held up his hand to silence her protest before she could make it. “I know. I know. It’s one thing to accept a bastard who wrenches cars to pay for food and rent as Robb’s friend and another entirely to accept that guy as your boyfriend. I get that. But look at Sansa!”

“Sansa is a perfect princess who can do no wrong!” Arya exclaimed in the simultaneously contemptuous and envious voice reserved for complaints about her sister.

Sometimes Gendry was glad he didn’t have any siblings--well, none that knew he existed anyway. Arya’s relationship with her sister was one of the most confusing and complicated things he’d ever encountered. “Sansa is dating an ex-con, Arya,” he said very slowly. “And no, Lord and Lady Stark are NOT happy about that.” She snorted the way she always did when he gave her family titles. “But your father hasn’t hit him and your mother hasn’t poisoned his food. No doubt they’re hoping Sansa will get over this Clegane fellow sooner rather than later, but in the mean time they haven’t disowned her. And while their obvious disapproval is probably no fun for him, he’s holding up okay as far as I can see.”

“She’s not gonna get over him,” Arya said softly. “He treats her a hell of a lot better than any of her rich boyfriends ever did.”

“And your parents see that!” Gendry said with satisfied expression, pleased that she had walked right into it. “That, my sweet girl, is the reason he isn’t dead yet. And if they can give him the benefit of the doubt, they’ll do the same for me. I mean, they at least know me!”

Arya looked unconvinced. 

“And they love you,” he added. “Anybody can see that both of them completely adore all of you precious Stark babies. It’s kind of sickening, really.” Actually, it was wonderful. Gendry hadn’t believed such families existed until he’d met the Starks, but he loved teasing Arya about her family.

“Doesn’t mean they’ll be happy about this,” she mumbled.

“No, it doesn’t. And they probably won’t be. Not until we prove to them that they should be.” He grinned at her. “I’m as tough as Clegane, my lady. I can take as much parental disapproval as the royal couple wish to dish out.”

“Don’t call me that,” she pouted. “Or them.” She sighed. “You really want to tell them about us?”

“I do.”

“And you really think they’ll be okay about it?”

“Not at first. But I’m reasonably sure they won’t kill me, and they definitely won’t kill you. And I intend to always make you happy, Arya. Once they see that, they’ll come around. That’s all they really want, you know. For you to be happy. And safe. And to have a good life.” He put his hands on her arms and looked directly into those grey eyes. She wasn’t even twenty yet, but she was most definitely not a child. “That’s what I intend to give you, if you let me.”

“No,” she said. “That’s what we’re going to give to each other, you big bull.”

He smiled at her. “I like that idea very much.”

This time, he didn’t stop her when she reached up to pull his face down toward hers for a kiss. After a long moment, she pulled her lips from his just far enough to whisper, “Okay. We’ll tell my parents about us.”

“Wonderful.” He reached down and squeezed her firm bottom. “We can wait until tomorrow if you like. I mean, no need to call them right this minute or anything.” 

She giggled and kissed him again, and he began slowly moving her toward the bedroom of his apartment, tugging at the bra once more, this time seeking to remove it rather than simply push it up out of the way.

She reached behind her and unclasped the bra herself. Then she grabbed wickedly. “So . . . you want to come clean with my parents, right?”

“Indeed, my lady. I want to officially be your boyfriend, Arya.”

“So . . .” she said, drawing the word out as she deftly undid the belt of his jeans. “What do you think they’ll say when we tell them we’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, good sir?”

Gendry’s jaw dropped. “We are not telling them that!”

“But you said . . .”

“I said I didn’t want to be your secret. I never said I had a death wish!”

Arya’s laughter filled the little bedroom, and he allowed her to fill up all of his senses then. She’d never be one for dramatic professions of love, but he knew her as well as he loved her. And her willingness to stand up in front of her parents and call him hers would be the strongest declaration of love he could ask for.

[jadehqknb]

Omg Jade, i'm so excited about your AU events! Hopefully your writings could make everyone satisfied like always❤ how about Badboy! Aomine has love hate relationship with nerd girl (reader) she couldn't stand with his bullies anymore so she starts to change her appearance(she has his ideal body type) and he's ask her out? Maybe NSFW because of the sexual tensiom between them.. thanks

A/N: So, after Ifinished this, I realized the only factors I kept of your ask were Aomine as abad boy and the girl as a nerd. I focused more on her irritation with him andhis personality than with him bullying her though he is tactless (as we allknow). Also, because you specified “nerd girl” I do have some common tropeshere purely for the sake of description. Anyone can be a nerd but withoutactual physical pictures, I have to rely on my word choices to paint it.

“And _____-san with Aomine-san,” sensei announces. Thefemale of the equation groans quietly, head smacking against her desk. Glancingaround she’s unsurprised to see the notorious bad boy of Too absent…again. Whyoh why does sensei hate her so? It’s bad enough to have to work on a pairedproject but with Aomine Daiki? The most narcissistic and lazy asshole she’sever met?

The fact that he’s ridiculously gorgeous doesn’t helpmatters either.

After class ends, she’s fortunate enough to come across hispink haired keeper. “Ah, Momoi-san,” she calls garnering her attention.

She smiles brightly, waving. “Hello, ______-san, how areyou?”

“Eh, could be better,” she confesses shaking her head. Thepink haired girl tilts hers with curiosity to the reply but she ignores delvingfurther into her personal problems by getting straight to the point. “Do youknow where Aomine-san is?”

Momoi’s pink eyes widen before a devious smile curls up herlips. “He’s probably on the roof. I know his favorite spot; do you want me totake you to him?”

“That would be great, I don’t have a lot of time.”

The two walk briskly to the stairs heading up. By the time they’vereach the top, Momoi’s companion is breathing a bit heavier, the weight of herbackpack making her wish she’d had the foresight to leave it behind.

“Dai-san!” Momoi calls, voice shrill to impart maximumannoyance to her friend.  

“What do you want Satsuki?” Aomine grumbles, blue hairvisible near the edge of the platform upon which he lays.

“_______-san needs to see you! Be nice!” she shouts thenwinks before leaving.

Time passes but Aomine has no intention of getting up. Ifshe wants to talk to him, she can come up here. His arm lays across his eyes toblock the blaring rays of sun but he jolts up at the feel of a shoe kicking thebottom of his own. He hadn’t even heard her climb the ladder.

“What the hell,” he snaps, eyes opening to look up.

Above him stands who he’s dubbed the “nerd girl”.  She pushes her glasses up the bridge of hernose in a manner reminiscent to Midorima. “I could ask you the same thing,” shesnaps, eyes hidden behind the glare of her shields. “It’s impolite to keep alady waiting.

“Yeah, well, if you see one around let me know and I’ll makesure to jump right up,” he retorts, satisfied to see a faint blush of what hecan only assume is anger flooding her cheeks. It makes her almost look human.

“You’re an ass,” she asserts. Setting down her bag, sheunzips it and hands him a paper.

“What’s this?” he asks blinking.

“Our paired assignment that we are unfortunately required tocollaborate on. It’s 25% of our grade Aomine-san, so I would appreciate it ifyou don’t dawdle in doing your part.”

The basketball punk scans over the text before scoffing, “Whatis this shit anyway? Tch, I don’t have time to worry about this right now.” Hestands, holding out the paper which she refuses to take.

“I’m not doing your work for you, Aomine-san,” she saysfirmly standing as well, the difference in their height making her swallow her nerves.She’s not exactly afraid of the loomingmale but he definitely has an aura about him that makes her apprehensive.

And she hates herself for noticing the tone of his muscles;she hates it even more that he doesn’t miss that she’s staring.

“Heh, why don’t we compromise, hmmm?” He takes a stepforward but she refuses to retreat so now his chest is almost touching herdecidedly large one. “You handle the assignment,” he murmurs, hand reaching outto play with some loose strands of her hair. “And I’ll handle you.”

Heat floods her face at his insinuation followed byrighteous anger. Her hand moves before she can think, smacking him across theface. “You’re a pig,” she hisses, gathering her bag and storming down theladder. She leaves with a parting, “Meet me at the library at 5:00, we’ll goover the details then,” thrown over her shoulder before the roof door slamsshut. Behind she leaves Aomine fuming.

He’s never backed down or lost a challenge before and he isn’tabout to start now.  “The only one whocan beat me, is me,” Aomine mumbles, gathering his belongings.

That evening, she takes a seat in one of the study rooms andwaits. And waits. And waits. Of course, the jerk would be late. When an hourpast their meeting time goes by, a deep boiling anger bubbles up. She isn’tthis person, isn’t one to go off and strike someone, to want to yell and screamat them but Aomine Daiki is decidedly good at getting her dander up. Sheloathes the injustice that someone so pertinacious and self-centeredpractically has the world at his feet just through sheer arrogance andentitlement.

And to top it all off, she knows he’s in a gang, a delinquentthrough and through and yet everyone, including teachers, fall to his feet likehe’s some sort of god!

All because he’s good at basketball.

Ok, so maybe he’s better than good, maybe he is the best,but still, there are more things to life! More things that make people great, makethem valuable and important!

Finally, she’s done waiting, grabbing up her bag and huffingout the doors making a beeline for the gym. It’s unlikely he’s even there givenhis penchant for skipping practice almost as much as he does class but she hasto try. She has to get him to realize she’s not a push over and she’s not apatsy.

Entering, she sees who she knows to be captain and coach ofthe basketball team talking quietly. The squeak of her shoes against the floor announcesher presence and both males turn to look in her direction. “Ah, excuse me,Imayoshi-senpai?” she calls.

His smile makes her shiver a little. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“I…I’m sorry to bother you but, have you seen Aomine-san? Wewere supposed to meet at the library and-“

“Ah, so you’re thereason Aomine-kun was all hot under the collar today,” he asserts making herblink in confusion. Coach murmurs something about grading papers, leaving thebasketball player and flustered student to their own devices. Before she canask him to explain Imayoshi goes on, “Please allow me to apologize for theinconvenience. You see, it’s my fault Aomine-kun just now finished. Course, nowI understand why he didn’t complain as much as he usually does. What a naughtyboy, am I right?”

Deep crimson overtakes her complexion, hands gripping thestrap of her bag tighter. Why is she interpreting his commentary so…lewdly?

Imayoshi, ever observant, is tempted to continue this lineof teasing simply for the pleasure of watching her squirm but he’s tired andbesides; it’s clear this one isn’t interested in him anyway. Shame, she’d befun to break. Shrugging on his own bag, Imayoshi points towards the lockerroom. “He’s in there,” then promptly exits the gym, leaving her to decidewhether to continue waiting.

Taking a seat on the bench, she goes over her notes, mindwandering between what she’s doing and what’s taking Aomine so long. Undoubtedly,he’s done this on purpose, exerting himself as dominant and not one to cater tothe beck and call of others, but he’s never tangoed with someone like herbefore.

“Yo,” his deep voice rumbles jarring her out of herthoughts. Looking up, she swallows the extra saliva that has suddenly appeared thanksto the sight of him shirtless, tribal markings dancing on his broad chest andover sculpted shoulders. A distinct heat erupts between her legs when shenotices his nipples are pierced. How the hell does he play basketball withthose?

“Oh, these? I take them out of course,” he commentsrevealing she voiced the question outloud.

Mortified, she covers her face, a deep groan pulling fromher lips. His presence before her on his knees, face level with hers, makes hersqueak. “You’d better be careful, _______-san, I just may get the wrongimpression if you keep making noises like that.”

Her bosom heaves drawing his eyes downward, his blatantstaring making her entire body hum with apprehension. Raising his eyes to hersonce more he smirks, leaning forward. Heat radiates off his flesh, theirproximity drawing beads of sweat to her brow.

“You know, maybe what you need isn’t a project partner somuch as a…fuck partner?” he murmurs, lips millimeters from hers.

“You’re a pig,” she whispers.

“So you’ve already mentioned. And you’re a bitch, what ofit?” he replies.

“I don’t like you,” she remarks.

“Tch, you think I like you? Hardly. Though despite yourglasses and always wearing cardigans even when it’s fucking hot outside, you’recertainly alluring,” he admits, trailing a heated gaze over her curves.

“This…this can’t…this isn’thappening,” she asserts, willing her brain to work better than her hormones.

“Oh, I beg to differ princess,” he purrs, “I can see youwant me, why continue to deny it? Take the offer, it’s not everyone I’m willingto give all this to.”

She narrows her eyes. “And here I thought I’d figured outhow you got ahead in life, Aomine-san.”

“What’d you mean?”

She shrugs, glad to feel a bit of her senses (other than thehorny ones) returning. “I was racking my brain trying to figure out how youcould possibly still be in school and on the team even though you do nothingcontributory to either. Well, at least in school. I know in basketball you’re secondto none, though I have heard rumors of a certain red head at Seirin thatsupposedly can give you a run for your money.” She shrugs again, tapping him onthe nose. “I just assumed you were a man whore, slutting it up to whomever youneeded. How else would you still be passing your classes?”

“You, self-righteous bitch,” he snaps.

Eyes gleaming behind her glasses, she pushes against his chest,denial clear. Aomine may be a bastard, but he’d never truly force himself onher. He gets up, eyes full of fire.

“I believe that’s round one to me, Daiki-kun,” she purrssashaying her hips as she exits. Turning around, she’s gratified to see evidence of a distinctly firm problem below his waist line. “Tomorrow, after school,5PM, library. Be there.”

When she’s gone, Aomine grabs his basketball and slam dunksit hard enough to shake the rafters. This kitten doesn’t know who she’s dealingwith and Aomine is dead set on turning her hisses into mewls.

A/N: I originally intendedto end this NSFW but the progression changed as I went and I really like howthings ended here with the bad boy being put in his place. I hope you stillenjoyed it!

[duanecbrooks]

"Girl(s)"-Watching     In an earlier article I held forth concerning Baggage Claim, a cinematic black-oriented rom-com that I saw on DVD that I was initially attracted to because of its lively, funny trailer as can be seen on YouTube--and that, as I also disclosed, has made the list of My All-Time Favorite Theatrical Offerings. I have since purchased, and seen, the DVD of another picture that initially caught and held my attention due to the quality of its trailer--which, as is the case with Claim's trailer, is available on YouTube. Namely this flick, which, by the way, started out as a play, is Some Girl(s). It is, let it be said flat-out, a dazzler, laden with searing dialogue, meticulous direction, and--and this is the clincher--genuinely touching and humanistic performances. To catch and stay with Girl(s) from beginning to end is to be on a journey accompanied by a collection of really dimensional, truly flesh-and-blood-and-feeling characters, folks who, although entirely fictional, will certainly, definitely strike chords deep within you. It sincerely is that recognizable, in the human sense, a work.           Before getting into said work, a couple of explanations are in order. First, the story itself has to do with a soon-to-be-wed writer (Adam Brody) traveling around the country re-connecting with different exes and attempting to make amends with them. Secondly, since the structure of Girl(s) is, thanks be to God, honestly individualistic--the picture consists not of some convoluted, showy Plot but of a succession of scenes wherein Brody's character (he is entirely unnamed in the flick, henceforth he'll be referred to The Fellow) re-encounters the aforementioned prior girlfriends and, in various ways, clashes with each of them--what will happen is that the tangiest of the relentlessly tangy dialogue will be spotlighted.               So we commence...             Upon getting back together with Sam (Jennifer Morrison):             .Sam, upon entering The Fellow's hotel room: "I've never been here before. (Pause) Unless you're seeing someone illicitly."             .Sam, after The Fellow tells her of his romantic misadventures after breaking up with her and what he's learned from them: "It's funny how much you know about women--now."           .Sam, after The Fellow does an enormous amount of hemming-and-hawing concerning what this rendezvous with her is about: "[You need to c]ut to the chase because my kid's getting home at 3."         .The Fellow, at last finally cutting to the chase: "I'm here because I want to...right a wrong, make things OK."               .Sam, incredulously: "You want to air this [past romantic] stuff [that was between us] now?"         .Sam, after The Fellow does his buck-and-wing as to how "we [supposedly he and Sam] broke up": "There was no 'we.' It was you! You ended it."                 .The Fellow, regarding Sam: "You were a girl I could take a glance at and see her whole future."       .The Fellow, at last finally fessing up: "I suppose I got nervous and backed out of the situation [with you] the best way I knew how."                   .Sam, becoming frustrated about this whole deal: "I don't want to be thinking about this [past] shit [with you] now! I'm a wife and a mother!"                 .Sam, her frustration growing: "We talked about getting engaged but not this [situation they're now in]!"     .Sam, in her final comment to The Fellow before taking off: "Married, huh? Good for you." And off she goes. For good.             Upon getting back together with the ever-flirtatious Tyler (Mia Maestro):               .Tyler, upon The Fellow's telling her of his personal and professional triumphs: "Married? Holy shit! And New Yorker magazine [published you] in the same year."           .Tyler, upon seductively suggesting that she and The Fellow have a one-night stand and The Fellow demurring, citing his upcoming marriage: "Even if it just happens here, with nobody the wiser?"             .Tyler, upon The Fellow's breaking down and coming on to her: "Don't forget your [wedding] vow thingy."               .Tyler, in response to The Fellow telling her of "this whole [marriage] thing I'm about to embark upon": "It's not a cruise."                 Upon getting back together with the mega-bitter, mega-resentful Lindsay (Emily Watson):           .Lindsay, sarcastically initiating conversation: "So the prodigal son returns."             .Lindsay, continuing to throw her darts: "This is the part where you say something charming in return. That's why they call it 'banter.'"             .Lindsay, hurling yet another dart: "You left at the end of the second semester, so you have...no idea how it was for me."             .Lindsay, keeping up her dart-throwing: "How do you help me get back some of the dignity I lost?"               .More Lindsay dart-hurling: "You are quite capable of fucking me. You used to do it all the time."     .The final last thrown Lindsay dart, this one concerning The Fellow's profession of love and devotion to her: "You were good at [claiming that you cared about me]. Making an honest...woman like me fall for it, gobble it up."               Upon getting back together with the ever-giggly, ever-girlish Reggie (Zoe Kazan):             .Reggie, after using a somewhat foreign (to her) word: "Is that a word--'happenstance'?"           .Sam, acknowledging a key character flaw of his to Reggie: "I have never been good at keeping up with everyone from school. You want to know a secret? I'm not even on Facebook."             .Reggie, upon catching The Fellow in a lie: "You're not really good at making stuff up, are you?...Not for a man who makes his living doing it."               .Reggie, disclosing her genuine past attitude toward The Fellow: "I used to watch you. You were the favorite of [my childhood girlfriend] Kelly's friends."             .The Fellow, upon discovering a previously-unknown (to him) layer of Reggie: "I didn't even know you kept a journal! At 11?"             .Reggie, telling The Fellow of how she, too, once wrote a tale of fiction: "Like you did in your story. Only without all the--what do you call 'em?--motifs."           .Reggie, getting into she and The Fellow's past together: "Your hand was there [upon my body]. Slipping into my panties."               .Reggie, flatly refusing to let The Fellow off the hook for taking sexual advantage of her: "I was the kid. I was the little girl...You were a man...Maybe you couldn't vote or go to war, but you had a car and everything...You had no right to [exploit me sexually]. Ever!"             .Reggie, upon, before leaving, very soulfully kissing The Fellow: "That's what a woman kisses like. You feel the difference?"               Upon getting back together with the sensitive-yet-far-from-malleable Bobbi (Kristen Bell):           .Bobbi, upon The Fellow's relating to her his plan to revisit his exes and see whether or not there's any bad blood: "So I was one of [those exes], huh? The lucky ones."                 .There's this dialogue between The Fellow and Bobbi regarding the former's emotional/psychological self, the former is the first speaker, Bobbi the second:                                           "Part of your life begins to come up for you."                                     "Like vomit?"             .Bobbi, again commenting on The Fellow's visit-exes-and-see-whether-or-not-there's-any-hard-feelings strategy: "Well, I'm glad I made the cut."             .Bobbi, becoming sincerely pissed at what is in effect The Fellow's plying his snow job: "Just don't do some pathetic thing like pretending to smooth things over."                 .Bobbi, upon giving The Fellow a gift certificate and him at first refusing: "Just please don't be an asshole about this. Just take it!"                   .Bobbi, spiritedly rejecting The Fellow's attempts to gloss things over: "I don't need any friends! Let me be more specific: I don't need you!"                 .Bobbi, when The Fellow tries to smooth things over by serving up the I-didn't-mean-any-harm gambit: "Fuck you!...It's not about the meaning, it's about the doing!"               .Bobbi, still staunchly refusing to give The Fellow a free ride: "When you do what you do [sexually exploit females], people get hurt!...It makes you more than just an ex-boyfriend. It makes you a killer, an assassin, an emotional terrorist."                 .The Fellow, at last finally honestly attempting to make amends: "I've done a host of things that, if you nit-pick, look pretty awful stacked up...I'm not doing this [going around to his exes and trying to set things right] haphazardly, it's for Esquire...I may have done a lot of stupid things, but I was young!"                   .Bobbi's final last words before she leaves, in a quiet, weary tone: "It's very late...It's late." Referencing said gift certificate, in the same modest, tired voice: "It's for 100 dollars." Then Bobbi leaves.                 Next we see The Fellow upon a plane, presumably heading back home, making loving small talk with his intended via cell phone. Afterward his eyes meet with those of this hot young blonde flight attendant (Kathleen Christy) and they smile fondly at each other. The clear inference is that, despite The Fellow's upcoming wedding, they'll eventually get together sexually.             And thus we have Some Girl(s), an often gripping, frequently affecting, always, always deeply human multiple portrait of relationships, of sexual politics, indeed, of love itself. Adam Brody, coming off (for me) his mega-successful turn as Paula Patton's dyed-in-the-wool-homosexual co-conspirator/best buddy in Baggage Claim is, if anything, even better here, deftly constructing an often heart-rending portrayal of a guy who is either unable or unwilling to freely acknowledge, even to himself, that his efforts to make up for his past sexual crimes, however sincere and however well-meant, amount to too little too late. Kathleen Christy offers just the right helpings of flirtatiousness and expectation as the flight attendant who, at the end, lights The Fellow's fire. Neil LaBute, adapting his own stage work, shows that a first-class theatrical script can also be a first-class cinematic script. And director Daisy vonScherler Mayer quite adeptly orchestrates both the interaction of the players and The Fellow's various travels.               That leaves the women with whom The Fellow re-connects. All of them are expert, with two standouts. The first is Emily Watson, flinging her vengeful venom at The Fellow with the kind of stiff-upper-lip dignity and oh-how-you-hurt-me bravado that, far from turning us against her, have us feeling her pain and admiring her for fully refusing to be any sort of wounded bird. And then there's Kristen Bell. Currently riding high thanks to her leading-lady role on the rather fluffy television sitcom The Good Place, she sincerely reaches her pinnacle here, skillfully blending open-faced girlishness, lingering hurt, and steely resilience with the ease and the grace of a champion poker player handling cards. When she closes the door behind her after walking out, we feel the same devastation as does The Fellow--although, unlike his, it's mixed with firm respect and, indeed, admiration for so forcefully holding her own against him.                 It was the powerhouse actor Viola Davis, accepting her (richly well-earned) Best Supporting Actress Golden Globe Award for her performance in Fences, who said, in part, that adapting a play, even a highly-esteemed play, for the big screen "doesn't scream 'moneymaker.' But it does scream 'art.' It does scream 'heart.'" Patty West and Chris Schwartz and Andrew Carlberg--Girl(s)'s producers--have, in bringing the aforementioned play to the large screen, brought us a work that indeed freely scream both "art" and "heart." And it is we cinemagoers who are the beneficiaries.

[tamiddyinyourcity]

6:51pm, WHY ARE BITCHE-- nevermind, man.

Anyway, I'm irritated again. Not sure why. A plethora of reasons, i guess.

The headassery of the divorcee chick getting on my nerves, just to not even go through with collecting evidence from the divorce? Good job collecting alimoney, if you somehow land a decent amount without any of the necessary evidence that your husband disliked you enough to need hella escorts to see behind your back. She didn't deserve a cheating whore of a husband, but she made herself look really dumb today. It's like THATS YOUR LIFE, MAAM? Your rent, source of income if your job fires you, and so much more also????? I wouldn't toss out the chance for revenge money, if it meant the offchance that a girl saw me Taylor Swifting on Instagram; jesus.

7:34pm, my grandmother had something rancid in the microwave. As expected, whatever it was exploded and she never cleaned it up. It smells like a rotten egg. Fucks sake.

My grandmother making the house smell disgusting.

I have a headache, probably due to my morning being wack, and not eating much but microwaved junk food repeatedly.

I lack the feeling to create.... im tired.

Nothing interests me.

I still need to sleep. I will go to sleep soon, i freaking need it.

The idea of purchasing items. On one hand, Eli gave me 400 dollars in one weekend. Half of it just because I asked nicely, and the other for helping him dress and get inside of his chair today. Despite that, I feel the need to save. What if I decide to skip town? Change my name and make a new life?

Spend money on art supplies that I will either lose, or lose interest in using and hide somewhere in my room? Save money for a future that I may not have? God, why.

Living is exhausting.

And mildly annoyed at my mom, since when she learned what marxism was, she did her usual "that sounds cool, but, sounds like white family shit".... and then said "since theyre the ones who can afford to have time to think about that". True, Patrick is nearly middle class. (And hot as fuck.) His family does well for themselves, and he doesn't do much outside of the job he's content with, and not having to pay rent. Eh. So there is privilege, but

Plus when describing to her about the lack of need to work or produce solely based on commodity and moreso out of interest, she had went "yeah but then not everyone would want to work".... duh bitch.... since if no one needs to work, then, they can not do work! Easy. But even people who dont work get bored. It's simple. If you frame jobs in a "we can get the same done job for either more money and more freedom for individuals, or less effort and more freedom for individuals", or even subtract money entirely... then you dont need to work. Food, medicine, schools, education, and housing still would exist. Trades and crafts would still exist. Just no need to refuse it all for the sake of a green piece of paper or a blank check we falsely give value.

Also, its annoying that no one has organized a rent strike yet. Or something. Since I'm annoyed at how many people I know who are losing jobs and homes. Eli, for example, if he gets fired, he has 60 days to find a new job or he gets sent all the way back to Canada. That's fucked up man. Plus, Canada did close its borders.... So either way, he'd be fucked. (Then again, SF claimed to shut down businesses, and oh look, plenty are open.)

Generally, time feels like a thick and endless jelly. Not many to speak to, nor many I want to. My spam is dead, and I'm kinda losing it? And yet, somehow still saner than I was maybe a week ago? We passed the homicidal thought stage and entered the "what is the meaning of life" stage.... let's hope I don't shave my head and dye it platinum blonde.

7:56pm. I'm gonna have a stroke if I don't let myself sleep. Bye.