#bonus points if you can identify the gif

[zaczenemiji]

absolutely no rush if you're occupied with other asks :D!! I love your writing so so much your descriptions and dialogue are so good 😭💓 could I possibly request a scenario where the reader (working alongside kenji as ultraman/on the sidelines as a civilian, whatever you desire!!) unexpectedly throws herself in front of kenji and takes a hit for him (bonus points of they had unresolved tension before [argument, interrupted confession, one character was sick and rejecting help etc etc; no pressure at all and pls write whatever you'd like i'm just throwing out random suggestions!!]) + the hurt/comfort to follow after? thank you so much! ☺️ i wish you the best!

In the Heart of Danger

Kenji Sato x Reader

Synopsis: As tensions between Kenji and the KDF rise, you become entangled in the conflict, leading to a dangerous confrontation that puts your life at risk.

Word Count: 2,710

Genre/Warning: Action, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Sacrifice, Violence

Author’s Note: Slight mention of themes from Too Good, Too True

MASTERLIST

For many years, Ultraman and the Kaiju Defense Force worked in harmony. But as KDF evolved under different leadership, so did its philosophy. Their arsenal grew more lethal, their strategies more aggressive. Dr. Onda's vision was clear: the complete eradication of all kaiju was the only path to true safety.

Ultraman held a different perspective. Those magnificent creatures had their own place in the natural order. He believed in protecting life; only fending them off to prevent destruction, not to annihilate them.

KDF’s methods became increasingly ruthless. Where Ultraman sought balance, KDF saw only the necessity of total elimination. The final straw came when KDF started viewing Ultraman's reluctance to kill as a liability, a hindrance to their ultimate goal of eradication.

Thus, the Kaiju Defense Force turned their attention to identifying Ultraman's human form, intent on neutralizing this perceived threat.

"Kenji, you can't keep dismissing this," you said, frustration lacing your voice. "The KDF is closing in on you. They know something's up, and they're not going to stop until they confirm you're Ultraman."

The evening air was thick with tension as you and Kenji sat across from each other in his house. It started with a simple disagreement but it had escalated so quickly.

Kenji ran a hand through his hair, his expression one of exasperation. "I know the risks, (y/n),” he replied. “But I can handle it. I've been doing this for a while now."

"Handling it?" you echoed, incredulous. "You've barely been able to stay one step ahead of them. They've got advanced technology, Kenji. They're not just going to give up."

You remember the incidents with Gigantron, how KDF was willing to get rid of Ultraman, so as to obtain Emi. And for what reasons? To use a frikking baby to lead them to Kaiju Island—to massacre, for the mass murder of those misunderstood creatures.

Kenji sighed heavily, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of determination and fatigue. "I can't stop,” he said. “If I don't transform, people will die."

"I'm not asking you to stop," you said, your voice softening. "I'm asking you to be more careful—to consider the danger you're putting yourself in."

Kenji's jaw tightened and he looked away, the weight of your words settling heavily on his shoulders, “I know you're worried about me. But I can't just sit back and do nothing."

"Then let me help," you pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm. "We're a team, remember? You don't have to do this alone."

"I can't put you in danger, too,” he pulled away slightly, his expression hardening. “It's bad enough that I have to deal with this. I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

"Kenji," you said, your voice firm. "I'm already involved. Whether you like it or not, I'm in this with you. And I'm not just going to stand by and watch you risk your life without doing anything."

He shook his head, his frustration evident. "You don't understand,” he said. “If something happened to you... I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"And what about me?" You shot back, your eyes filling with tears. "Do you think I could live with myself if something happened to you, and I did nothing to stop it?"

There came a long silence.

He never asked for any of this—you know that firsthand. You didn’t want this either. Only a fool would want to throw away the peaceful life they had in LA, away from the chaos, the danger, and the constant fear of losing their beloved.

But when Emi came and when Kenji reconnected with his dad, you both understood. Ultraman is a vital element, the pinnacle of balance, the one that would keep the world in its equilibrium.

He who holds the scale holds the lives of many. He who carries the burden also carries fear. And with it, the sacrifices to ensure the collective safety of humanity.

Your tears spilled over, and you wiped them away angrily. "You're an idiot, Kenji,” you said. “A noble, self-sacrificing idiot. But I'm not going to let you do this alone. Whether you like it or not, I'm going to help you. And you're just going to have to deal with that."

"No. You don't get it,” Kenji's expression hardened again. “This isn't about what you want. It's about keeping you safe."

"And what if I don't want to be safe?” You demanded, your voice breaking. “What if I want to be there for you?"

"That's not your choice to make!" Kenji shouted, his frustration boiling over. "I can't lose you, (y/n)!”

"And I can't lose you either!" you screamed back. "Why can't you see that?"

Kenji's eyes flashed with anger. "You should have just stayed in LA!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the night. "You're becoming too nosy, and it's dangerous. I can't have you getting involved in this.”

You stared at him, stunned. Kenji never hurt you in any way, especially not physically. But the weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut.

Without another word, you turned and stormed off, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn't look back, even as the tears blurred your vision.

Kenji stood to follow. But with the way you ran away, he knew you didn’t need him at the moment. Still, he worried for your safety. Quickly, he rode his motorcycle and followed you quietly from a distance to ensure you reached home safely.

Everything that unfolded hurt Kenji as much as it did you, if not more. This was the time he finally truly understood his father—why he let them move to LA, why he had to endure the pain of being separated—all because he wanted them safe.

Kenji loves you more than anything, more than you ever knew. He loved you enough to have the resolve to let you go if you finally wanted to be out of all this. You deserved the best, better than a complicated life with him.

When he had seen to it that you’re home safely, he stayed in front of your house a little longer, wanting to be there in case you needed him.

You knew what he was doing. You knew that he was following you. And you were grateful, truly grateful, that he didn’t let you be out here alone. He understood the space you needed and he respected it. This was just one of the infinite reasons you love him so much.

When you arrived home, you sat by the door, leaning on it as you let your tears flow freely down your cheeks. Kenji is a hero, and heroes need saving, too. You wanted to be the one to do that.

Little did you know, you were already doing so. You didn’t know how much you were saving him by being there for him. You have been doing so since day one—since meeting you in LA, losing his mom, coming back to Japan, raising Emi, and fully accepting his role as Ultraman.

Your eyelids became so heavy from all the tears that you didn’t notice that you’d drifted off to a nap. You were awakened by the sound of Kenji’s motorcycle engine as he started it.

You stood to take a peek through your window, careful not to let him see you. He looked your way one last time before driving off into the night.

When he was out of sight, you decided to head on over to your bed but before you could do so, you heard the mechanical sounds of drones.

Your eyes widened as you quickly looked back to see KDF’s drones heading in the direction Kenji went to. With a gasp, you hurriedly slammed the door open and ran out, forgetting about the identical watch you had with Kenji that was repeatedly beeping with an alert of a kaiju attack.

You ran as fast as you could, following the drones as you were sure that they were after Kenji. Suddenly, you heard familiar screams in the distance as the neighborhood awoke to a mundane scene of a kaiju attack.

You looked to your hand only to see an empty wrist. You groaned to yourself, of all the times you could forget it, why now?

Despite being unaware of what was happening or which kaiju was it this time, still you followed the drones. Upon turning the corner, you saw Kenji parking his motorcycle aside so he could transform.

However, this time, KDF came prepared. A squadron of heavily armed soldiers arrived, their weapons calibrated to disrupt his transformation sequence.

As the soldiers closed in on Kenji, one of them set up a cannon, aiming it directly at him. Realizing the gravity of the situation, you sprinted toward the scene, your heart pounding in your chest.

The targeting system locked onto Kenji's energy signature, and the barrel began to glow with a blue hue, signaling the impending shot. Just as the operator pulled the trigger, you threw yourself in front of Kenji.

The concentrated beam of energy hit you with full force, sending a searing pain through your body. You screamed as it disrupted your bio-energy field, causing immediate paralysis and intense agony. You collapsed to the ground, feeling your strength drain away.

The soldiers, momentarily stunned by your intervention, hesitated as Kenji caught you in his arms. "No, (y/n)!" Kenji's voice was filled with anguish as he held you close.

The effects of the cannon had taken their toll on you, but your selfless act had given Kenji the precious seconds he needed. He transformed into Ultraman with a flash of light, creating a barrier to protect you from further harm.

With the kaiju approaching the city, Ultraman's form loomed large, and the soldiers were forced to retreat, their weapons ineffective against his fully transformed state.

Although hesitant he had to make a heart-wrenching decision to choose between being your lover and being Ultraman.

He carried you as gently as he could. In the palm of his hand, your fragile body lay unconscious. He quickly ran back home where Mina awaited him.

Upon arriving, he carefully placed you in the bed Mina took out of the house. “Mina! Emergency analysis, please!” He begged. “Call my dad, do everything to save her! I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

With that, he dashed off to the scene of the kaiju attack. His mind was a mess as he fended it off as quickly as he could, even if it meant hurting it unintentionally, and even if it caused more infrastructural damage.

Ultraman’s heart pounded as he rushed home, the streets blurring past him in a haze of worry and exhaustion. As he reached the familiar door, he transformed back to his human form.

Kenji burst into the house. The scene before him made his heart ache even more. You lay unconscious on the couch, pale and still, with Mina and his father sitting beside you, their faces etched with concern.

Hayao looked up as his son entered. "Kenji," he said, his voice a mix of relief and sorrow. "You're back."

Kenji dropped to his knees beside you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "What happened? How is she?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Mina spoke up. “KDF used a new weapon, something we haven't seen before,” she started. “It emits a high-frequency pulse that disrupts the transformation process. When (y/n) threw herself in front of you, she took the full brunt of the attack."

Hayao nodded solemnly. "It's designed to incapacitate Ultraman before he can fully transform,” he said. “But on a human... it's much more dangerous. It's a miracle she's still alive."

Kenji's hands trembled as he held yours, his eyes never leaving your face. "Is there anything we can do?” He asked, tears racing their way out of his eyes. “Anything at all?"

"We've done what we can for now," Mina said softly. "She needs rest and time to recover. We'll monitor her closely. But Kenji... it's serious. The weapon has caused significant internal damage."

Hayao placed a reassuring hand on Kenji’s shoulder. "You did what you had to do, son. You saved countless lives tonight,” he said. “But we need to be prepared for what comes next. The KDF won't stop now that they know you're Ultraman."

Kenji nodded, his resolve hardening. "I'll protect her. I'll protect all of us,” he said through small sobs. “But right now... I need her to wake up. I need to know she's okay.”

As the night wore on, Kenji stayed by your side, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement. He thought about all the times you had supported him, how you had insisted on helping despite the danger. The argument from earlier seemed trivial now, overshadowed by the reality of your sacrifice.

"Please wake up," Kenji murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you. I should've protected you better."

The room was filled with the soft hum of medical equipment and Kenji’s quiet sobs that refused to give up on the person he cared about the most.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Kenji felt a slight movement in your hand. His heart leaped, and he leaned closer, his eyes searching your face for any sign of awakening.

"(Y/n)?" he whispered, his voice trembling with hope. "Can you hear me?"

Your eyelids fluttered, and a faint groan escaped your lips. Slowly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the light. When you saw Kenji's worried face, a weak smile crossed your lips.

"Kenji..." you murmured, your voice barely audible. "You're okay..."

Kenji's eyes once again filled with tears as he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening, "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you. You saved me, (y/n)."

You tried to sit up, but pain shot through your body, and you winced. “What... what happened?” You asked.

Mina quickly intervened, gently pushing you back down with mechanical hands that protruded out of her spherical body. "Don't try to move too much,” she said. “You were hit by a weapon KDF used. It was meant for Ultraman, but you took the hit instead."

Hayao added, "You were incredibly brave, (y/n). You saved Kenji's life."

You looked at Kenji, your eyes filled with concern. "I couldn't let them hurt you,” you said softly. “I had to do something."

Kenji leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "And I promise, I'll never let anything happen to you again,” he said, his tears falling down on your face.

The days that followed were a blur of pain, recovery, and quiet moments shared between you and Kenji. True to his word, he never left your side, his worry and guilt evident in every action he took to ensure your comfort and healing.

Each morning, you woke to the smell of freshly brewed tea and the sight of Kenji bustling around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Despite his own exhaustion, he insisted on doing everything himself.

"Good morning," he greeted softly one morning, bringing a tray of food to your bedside. "How are you feeling today?"

You offered a weak smile, propping yourself up on the pillows. "A little better, I think,” you answered. “Thanks, Kenji."

He set the tray down carefully. "You need to eat,” he said. “You've got to get your strength back."

In the afternoons, when you felt strong enough, Kenji would help you sit up and move around. He'd guide you outside to the lawn, where the sun's warmth and the gentle breeze seemed to hasten your healing. He'd support you with a gentle but firm grip.

"I don't want you to overdo it," he'd say, worry etched on his brow. "Just take it slow."

As the days turned into weeks, your strength gradually returned. The pain lessened, and the color began to return to your cheeks.

The days of your recovery were not just about healing physically but also about rebuilding and strengthening the trust and love between you and Kenji.

You had faced danger and come out stronger, more united. With each passing day, you became more sure than ever that together, your love could overcome anything.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist @brazilsho @arrozyfrijoles23 @finestflora @mmeerraa @mianbaobaoo @skyeliteratures @themourningfox @despacito-uwu16 @crimson-mage-02 @vinegarjello @btszn

[catbread0]

hihi can I request an x reader for Sebastian with someone whos a similar creature to him but bigger yet they manage to be pretty swift on their tail (to the point its kinda scary/j) /nf !

Sebastian Solace x Experimented! Reader

I hope this meets your request standards! Ty for requesting and sorry for any mistakes.

°ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

Words: 1,362

Mention of death, fluff, a bit OOC, some curse words

All the information I found is from the official Pressure wiki, urbanshade.org!! NOT FANDOM WIKI (MOST STUFF ON THEIR IS NOT CORRECT, PLEASE CHECK THE OFFICIAL WIKI!!) (Note: I made this before the friendly fire update came out)

Sebastian Solace Masterlist

Peculiar Experiment

Sebastian was going around Hadal Blacksite to find more data and information to blackmail Hadal Blacksite or send the information to rival companies. 

He was currently in a room that had a large window. On the other side of the window was pure water, nothing else. As he was searching through the many desks in the room, he saw in the corner of his eyes something through the window, but when he blinked, it was gone. 

Sebastian thought it was his eyes messing with him and chalked it up to him being blinded by the flashed beacon so many times by multiple inmates who walked into his shop.

As Sebastian continued into another room with another huge window, he found some items to sell to the inmates. He doesn’t actively seek to discover them. He just ends up finding them by accident and decides to make good use of them by trading. 

He saw the figure again, but he couldn’t identify the figure due to the room being dark. 

At first glance from afar, it looked like it was a normal height. However, as the shadow figure drew closer to the glass, Sebastian realized that this unknown monster was not normal in height. He is 10 '6", and somehow that monster was much taller than him!?

Sebastian tried to figure out who exactly this monster was. Until the creature punched their hand through the window. Water started flowing into the hole rapidly, filling the room quickly with water.

Sebastian jumped from the sudden movement and glass shattering. He immediately grabbed whatever he could and slithered out of the room.

The monster saw Sebastian slithering away and wanted to catch up to him. With that, the creature kept breaking the window until they fell into the room. The creature immediately recovered from the impact and started to chase after Sebastian.

Sebastian saw the figure closing up on him somehow, even though he had a whole head start. 

He shouted in an enraged tone to hide the fear that was starting to settle in him, “WHO ARE YOU!? GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!”

He soon reached a room that shut the door behind him. He was trying to shake off the feeling of panic but then heard the noise of rustling behind some desks.

He immediately took out a flashlight he had picked up earlier and pointed toward where the desks that the sound was coming from.

“SHOW YOURSEL-”

Before Sebastian could fully finish his sentence, the same creature jumped towards him. 

The creature was hugging him?? He thought he would surely get killed or something since he was to be killed on sight by Hadal Blacksite.

“I never thought I’d find another specimen like me! Although you are quite small and slow.”

Once the unknown creature let him go, Sebastian got a better look when the creature pulled their anglerfish light, making the room light up a bit. This creature was almost similar to him. They had fin-like ears, a sea snake-shaped body, and a large and long tail. There were some differences. They had a third eye, but on their left side (his eye is on his right side), claw-like hand, but they have 5 fingers (while he has 4). 

But the major difference was the height and speed. They were 17 '3" and extremely fast. You had somehow gotten in the room when the door had closed only a few seconds after he entered. 

“Im specimen Z-##, but my real name is (Y/n)(L/n)”

Ah, now he remembers, he found your folder of what happened to you a few days ago while looking around.

You were an LR-P, or in other words, a low-ranked prisoner who's kept in their cells unless they are called upon for experiments. The experiments would often be dangerous or deadly. You were part of the experiment to give humans gills, just like Sebastian, mixing your DNA with other DNA strands from multiple different sea creatures. After the experiment was a success, you were still an LR-P and sent back to your cell. That was until the lockdown was caused, and you escaped your cell after someone unlocked the doors.

When Sebastian finally got out of his daze and replied, “I didn't expect to do sudden introductions out of my shop today. But since you didn’t kill me, I guess there’s no harm. I'm Sebastian or Z-13, to be exact.”

You continued to talk to him while he continued to collect stuff while heading back to his shop.

“Why are you collecting these folders filled with data from others? It’s not like we can undo what they did to us.” You asked him.

“If I can get enough information, then I can sell these to rival companies or, better yet, blackmail this hellhole of a company.” He spat out the last part with venom in his voice.

After spending time with him, you decided to help Sebastian with his goal if it meant stopping these horrible experiments on other people. 

A couple of months go by, and you slowly start to have feelings for Sebastian. Even if he is snarky, unpredictable, and sometimes violent, he does lend a hand to the inmates who come to his shop. He’s respectful to those who also respect him. This includes you too, since you help out a lot, it helps him have more time to try to reach his goals.

When inmates would disrespect you, whether it be making rude comments about your looks, how tall you are, or using their flash beacon on you. Sebastian would charge the inmates more than usual, or sometimes he would take the flash beacon from them if they bought it from him, or he would defend you by making sneaky comments or mocking them.

You want to tell him how you feel towards him, but you don't want to mess up the friendship that you have with him.

It was another day or night, you couldn’t tell, but it was quiet today. No inmates were coming into the shop today. How rare. Not even the other monsters were making noise like they usually do when there are inmates in the halls.

You let out a sigh of boredom and stretch yourself out a bit, “Did they run out of prisoners to send down here or something?”

“Probably, I mean no one has gotten the crystal yet,” Sebastian said as he pulled on his anglerfish lure to light up the small room.

It was silent for a few minutes before Sebastian spoke again, “Since it seems no one is coming to the shop today. I would like to tell you something.”

Now that grabbed your interest, “Yea? What is it?”

It was silent for a few seconds again before he looked up at you, “I'm going to get straight to the point, I like you and want to be in a relationship with you.”

Well, that wasn't what you expected, but he is unpredictable at times, so you couldn't blame him for that.

“..You couldn’t have been more, you know, romantic? But I do feel the same way about you.” You teased him for his straight forwardness.

“Well there’s nothing romantic I could get from down here, so I might as well do it when no one is here,” Sebastian answers you.

You end up moving towards him, cuddling him. The two of you looked at each other before you leaned down toward him and kissed each other. 

Bonus!

While you and Sebastian were too busy kissing, you two didn't hear someone crawling through the vents.

“Um? What the fuck!? Do that somewhere else other than in the shop man.” 

You pulled away immediately, Sebastian was irritated by the person's comment and their rudeness.

Sebastian whacked the poor inmate back through the vent with his tail. The inmate was thrown out, and since the room on the other side had a big pothole with what seemed an endless bottom, they tragically died.

“...Sebastian…. You know what, just this once I won't scold you for doing that.” You sighed in disbelief while Sebastian had a plastered smirk on his face.

~Lilly's

[e4iphany]

astrology observations 3 . . . ♡

note: hi guys !! i know it’s been a while . . . i kind of forgot about this website. thank you for all of the love on my other posts! i want to be more active here, i love it so much ♡

⚰️ i’ve noticed a lot of taurus + leo placements enjoy metal music. i have no idea where the connection is, but just something i’ve noticed lol

⚰️ 7H uranus natives how does it feel to have never been in a stable relationship before ❤️

⚰️ i haven’t seen anyone make this observation, but i can attest to it — gemini placements (usually moon, venus, and mars) are usually bisexual or pansexual. i know 10+ people, not even including myself, who have gemini moon/venus/mars and identify as bisexual! i think that’s pretty neat IMO

⚰️ you can easily spot sag moons by determining if they look like a horse or not. LMFAO. it’s not even an insult… they have a very majestic aura about them and seem very… horse like.

⚰️ air moons (gemini, libra, aquarius) oddly have a dark aura about them. this might just be the air moons i’ve met and know, but they always give off dark feminine energy.

⚰️ air/fire sun placements and saying the first thing that’s on their mind without thinking… oh it’s real

⚰️ virgo moons get VERYYYY passionate about the things they love and get so obsessive. like they’re willing to go to war about their beliefs. bonus points if it’s about politics lmao

⚰️ pisces placements are never beating the “looks like a fish” allegations. literally every person i know who has pisces placements (excluding mercury) has super big eyes and looks like a fish. 🐠

⚰️ leo venus and gift giving being their language is so spot on it’s insane. every leo venus i know always gives gifts for every little thing. it’s so thoughtful and cute

i hope you enjoyed ! i love you all . . . sweet dreams super souls

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: How can you wear your "Big Boy" pants right now?

Sometimes we need reminders that we can in fact, be "big boys" in our lives and take responsibility to change what we don't like about our lives. Happy reading!

_________________________________________________________

Pile 1:

There's a lot you CAN do. In fact, you have been doing a lot by yourself, weathering proverbial storms all on your own. Unfortunately, you haven't been conscious enough to acknowledge all the effort you've been putting in to simply push through. Let me be the one to give you the kudos you deserve, Pile 1. You've been doing way more than you think, albeit these are mostly internal efforts (like maintaining a headstrong attitude in the face of a challenge). You currently feel challenged to take active steps in your external life, though. You might find it hard to apply things you learn to your life or simply lack the discipline to see your (quite excellent) plans through. You need to be reminded that you do have the free will to choose to make all your plans come to life :) You have what it takes, sweetie; you really do.

Bonus - How do you need to go about it? One thing that can EASILY help you execute your plans is to bring in help (trigger warning though). You all seem Independent AF, and I get it, sweets. With everything you've been doing, of course, you can handle anything, but you definitely need some support too right now. Especially if you struggle with something like discipline (or whatever challenge you're facing right now). Bringing in even just ONE person (or multiple) to help hold you accountable to your plans, with compassion, would help you a lot (that person/people don't have to be real too; you could bring in a bot from an app or AI, I don't care) as long as you feel like you have a buddy, you know? Somebody who makes you feel like your plans matter. It's an excellent way to pour into yourself right now and show yourself some TLC ✨️ You deserve to make your plans a reality and have a bit of fun on your path towards it.

Love, light, and hugs!

_________________________________________________________

Pile 2:

Doing things your way and rejecting convention might be a BIG step for you, to be honest, but it's well worth it, Pile 2. Celebrate yourself, basically. Slow down and enjoy yourselves a little bit. Maybe you've been living your life BY THE BOOK so far, and now you're going to put your big boy pants on by letting loose and doing things differently for once. You're not abandoning yourself and your needs nearly as much anymore, and so you're quite stable in your own skin as a result. That's really impressive, Pile 2! You have lived in fear (possibly a fear of failure), and I'm sensing some mommy wounds maybe? This is where your fear stems from, and this fear has kept you from really truly living. You might identify as a workaholic too. Maybe you prefer to keep yourself busy as a coping mechanism to ward off any feelings of anxiety. This has a direct correlation to childhood wounds of yours. So put your big boy pants on and put an end to conforming to standards that don't respect you and what you stand for, Pile 2.

Bonus - How do you need to go about it? I feel like this pile needs extra guidance on how to exactly wear their big boy pants. Start by acknowledging that you do have wounds from childhood, specifically those from female (motherly) figures, if not your mother herself. Take a radical approach to your healing journey right now. Look into the concept of mothering yourself and come up with customized ways to do just that. You got this, Pile 2 :)

Love, light, and hugs!

_________________________________________________________

Pile 3:

It seems like you've already been wearing your big boy pants, Pile 3. Good job! Looks like you've been on a healing journey, and you're now at a point in life where you can reap the benefits of all the inner work you've done. You've reached a level of mastery over the mind, and now it's time to make room to tend to your heart. You need something that your authority figures couldn't give you readily, and that's unconditional compassion. Show yourself kindness even when things don't go as you'd like them to. Hold yourself through the thick and thin of life, as you would a child. This should open up a brand new way of living and viewing life that you never thought possible. It has always been waiting for you and your attention. Nurture yourself on a whole new level and be ready to receive 10X from the universe. You're going to feel so spoiled, I love it, haha! 😄

Love, light, and hugs!

_________________________________________________________

[musicalmonomania]

i saw the tv glow is an example of what psychological horror SHOULD be.

i absolutely adore psychological horror as a film genre and i saw the tv glow is the PERFECT example of what makes psychological horror “psychological horror.”

it’s a movie that sticks with you and makes you feel dread. the idea of telling a story about the trans experience through a horror movie is such a unique concept, and jane schoenbrun does it in such a beautiful manner. the whole birthday party scene at the end? absolutely phenomenal acting. justice smith the legend that you are!!! and he does such a great job at conveying the horror that trans people experience, especially if they’re struggling to accept their identity.

this is what psychological horror should be. it should stick with you and fuck you up and make you feel empty and dreadful. bonus points if, like i saw the tv glow, there’s some kind of message/meaning to the movie. that really makes it all the more impactful. the fact the people who don’t understand this movie are (most likely) cisgender is very telling. i wonder why? that is a rhetorical question, by the way.

in a way, being transgender can feel like you’re starring in your own psychological horror movie. i am grateful that i learned to accept my trans identity, because after watching i saw the tv glow, i’ve come to realize i truly wouldn’t be happy if i continued to identify as cis. this movie is a harsh reminder of what i could’ve been now and back then. an alternate unhappy ending.

but then, there’s the whole “there is still time” message — a reminder that it’s never too late.

to all of my fellow trans friends — you’re going to be okay. hang in there.

[lostinforestbound]

I kept thinking about this so I just had to write it out! I also made a little blurb under the cut with a gn!Tav. Let me know your thoughts and feel free to add on!

Rolan with Early Greying Hair

When he discovers his first grey hair, he's almost devastated.

He's still young, he isn't supposed to greying yet, but it seems the stress of everything he's gone through is catching up.

At first, he started plucking them out when he spots them, willfully trying to ignore the fact he's greying at all. When plucking became a little painful, he tries a little bit of dye instead.

Unfortunately, the dye he used changed the texture of his hair to the point it was noticeable, so he ended up washing it out.

They're more visible on the sides of his temple, so he shifts his hair more loosely in hopes of hiding them.

Of course he's insecure about it! What in the hells will Tav think of it? No doubt they would find it unattractive!

One day, as he shares a bath with them, they finally notice them as they wash his hair.

He feels them gently pull his hair back to get a better look, and he immediately thinks of the worse case scenarios.

He'll speak up, going on a small ramble of how he's tried plucking them out but they keep coming back. He'll promise to find proper dye to hide it better.

He's shocked when he turns his head towards them and see a light blush on their face.

"I actually think it's attractive. Grey looks wonderful on you," They say. He would genuinely think they're joking, but they seem utterly sincere.

Bonus Points: Tav reveals their own gray strands from the stress of their adventure.

The sigh of relief that comes out of his mouth made him realize how tense he was about up until this moment. It embarrasses him how worked up he got over it.

He's still desirable to them; he's always been desirable. He just got too wrapped up in his own anxiety.

Maybe he should stop worrying about how he looks and realize Tav loves him, grey hairs or not. They seem to love the greys, and that's all he needs.

Writing Blurb

Even as Tav massages his shoulders, he can't make himself relax in the hot water he drew up for the both of them.

He's tried everything he could to mask what he identifies as his shame; plucking, dyeing, wearing his hair a different way, but nothing can ever hide the fact that he's greying already.

Gods damn it all, he's still young! At least young enough that greying at his age is strange. His life has been absolute hell, no pun intended, and now it's hitting him with another problem, and he can't catch a break. Of all the hurdles that could possibly be in his way after finally living comfortably, this is the one life decided to throw at him? Absurd! Horrendous!

Tav doesn't know about the greys, and he's worried about them finding out. What if they don't find him attractive because of those pesky hairs refusing to disappear?

He doesn't even notice Tav pausing as they pull his hair back. When he does, he sees them looking at the sides of his temple; his anxiety spikes in that moment. "I've tried plucking them, but they keep on returning," He rambles immediately, trying to salvage Tav's nonexistent disappointment. "The dye I tried almost ruined my hair. I'll look for a better quality one, and then they will-" "Rolan, I love them." Tav interrupts him with a smile, face flushed. The water splashes from how fast he shifts in the basin, staring at them in shock. They continue on, running his fingers through his hair to get a better look and using their other hand to cup his jaw. "Grey looks great on you."

He leans into their palm, sighing. "I thought you would be...I don't know," he says with a small huff, eyes fluttering close. "I find it hot." That makes him bark out a laugh. "Must you always be so vulgar?" "Calling something about you 'hot' is not vulgar! Prude." They tease, kissing his forehead and then his nose, finally landing on his lips afterwards. There will probably be a longer conversation about his previous insecurity when they get to bed, but for now, he knows just how loved he is, greys and all.

[purrpleowl]

I don't know if anyone has mentioned something like this already, but this thought has been on my mind for quite some time;

You know who I wanted to see having a duet with Alastor (song battle style)? Velvette.

Hear me out.

There's something similar between the two songs Alastor interrupts, Stayed Gone and Hell's Greatest Dad, especially when it comes to the duality between Alastor's part and the other person's part. Something that I admit I didn't notice at first, but I saw some people commenting on.

Let's talk about Stayed Gone first: all Vox has to say is that Alastor is old and Vox is new. He uses different words every time (fossil, barely audible, his medium is getting rare...), but that's his only argument. While Alastor attacks right into Vox's insecurities. He says that Vox's content is low quality and inconsistent, he belittles Vox's power, and pokes at the wound that was Alastor refusing to "join Vox's team" (whatever that means, not important for my point here).

In Hell's Greatest Dad, Lucifer talks about how he can be useful to Charlie. How he can give her Champagne fountains & caviar mountains without charging her. Alastor focuses on how his relationship to Charlie is (supposedly) very close. He says he's faithful to her, that he makes her laugh, that they have a special bond... Which is what Charlie values most.

ALL THAT TO SAY that Alastor is very good at reading the room, figuring out what people are on about. Now, what other demon we see that has showed to have those same skills and has used them to her advantage in the show? That's right, Velvette.

With a SINGLE glance, she was able to identify that Carmilla was the one that killed the exorcist because of her facial expressions and body language. And then she proceeded to poke Carmilla and Zestial until one of them snapped.

Also, just like I bet Alastor definitely doesn't believe a single word he's saying to Charlie in Hell's Greatest Dad, he just wanted to get under Lucifer's skin while manipulating Charlie, I highly doubt Velvette was serious about starting an actual war with the angels. She (and the Voys too, probably) had a suspicion that it had been an overlord who did it, and she went and tested the theory.

I just think it would be great to finally see someone publicly call Alastor out on all of his bullshit, and Velvette is (in my opinion, of course) a very good character for the role. Besides being very perceptive and good at reading into people's bullshit (she also does that with Vox when she is introduced btw).

She likes to annoy old people, she probably has some background on Al that Vox possibly provided her while lacking the insecurities that Vox has when it comes to Alastor.

It would be very satisfying (to me at least) to see her call him a coward in his face (because he fled Adam's fight when he got injured), or that he might hate Vox but he definitely loooves the attention because he's an attention whore (bonus points if she uses this specific term just to make him uncomfortable). Or even that he's trying so hard to keep this "ominous mysterious dangerous" persona while he's 1- not that powerful, 2- starting to get emotionally attached to the "good guys".

ALSO "you'd be powerless without the Vees" sir you can't convince me that 3 very powerful overlords can't beat 1 up. The Vees are powerful on their own but they're more powerful together and Vox's insecurities aside, they all know it. Alastor is alone, he might be friends with Rosie or the Hotel crew, but his pride wouldn't allow him to seek help in battle, or even emotional help.

Also 2.0 there's the fact that he's been gone for 7 years and while Velvette (and us) might have no idea what he's been up to, I bet the Vees have been growing and expanding their power while Alastor is the same since he left.

So yeah, I think she'd be so great on roasting Alastor. I don't know if I'll ever have a song battle between them but I sure think it would be interesting.

[imababblekat]

Bayverse Tmnt X Goth Lesbian Friend; Hc's

@ittybittytittycomitte ,"Hey may I please request the bayverse tmnt boys with a goth friend? Bonus points if she’s a lesbian (😚). If not that all good just have a good day and remember to drink water 😚"

~xXx~

the boys find you to be a breath of fresh air, seemingly normal if not intriguing to you upon first meeting versus the usual freak out they're used to receiving

they might not always get or understand some of your interest, but it doesn't mean they aren't interested

you're so different from the humans they have met, and are very open to hearing about your ideals and are especially a fan of your darker themed outfits

Mikey practically begged you to do his make up and make him look goth like you to which you happily agreed

before you knew it, you had the three other brothers following suit in trying out parts of your life style

if witchcraft is a part of your life, Leo definitely falls in love with it

while he might not identify as pagan or such, he's very interested in all that you can teach him in things such as the different properties of crystals, etc

you introduced Donnie to gothic opera music and he now has a whole new genera to listen to when he wants to get into a spooky scientist mood

Raphael, to no surprise, is all about the spiked jewelry you wear; as a gift you got him his own spiked bracelet and started referring to him as Bowser when he wore it

he'd act like he hated the nickname, but he never took off the bracelets and other spiked articles you'd gift him

if anyone knows what it's like to be viewed as something negative, it's them, so you have nothing to worry about when you tell them you're lesbian

if anything, you coming out to them brings y'all closer

Mikey is 1000% your wingman, whether you want him to be or not! he may or may not have tried to hook you up with April at one point

these boys are ready to throw hands for you, let some bigot give them the opportunity!

Donnie makes special pepper spray he calls "Bigot Away Spray, and pretty much any kind of self defense gadgets just for you

Leo becomes your sensei in a way, always up and ready to teach some new form of martial art that he knows

Raph definitely teaches you boxing, but he's also hanging in the shadows when you go out with friends, just waiting for some bigot to fuck around an find out

all in all, these ninja brothers love and embrace you for who you are and definitely take you in as a sister figure

[avocado-writing]

notes: I did a lot of research for this and yes, the manuscript I reference is a real thing. I didn’t put its name in though because that felt a step too far 😂 set in the light, the dark, and the spaces in between after ch3 so hope that’s ok! requests like this give me life.

relationship: aziraphale x immortal!reader x crowley

rated: G, pure fluff

word count: 1.4K

if you like my work you can buy me a kofi!

You’re the one who makes the tea. 

That’s because you’re the only one who changes how you have it: sometimes you fancy a chai, or a green tea, or a lapsang souchong. Sometimes with sugar or a little bit of milk, sometimes with neither, sometimes with an oat alternative. It changes. You’re human, you go through phases. 

But Aziraphale and Crowley? Nah, they’re creatures of habit. Despite the angel’s wide and experimental palate he’s oddly rigorous when it comes to his cuppa. For him, it’s loads of milk and four sugars, drowned to the point where it could hardly be called tea any more. Crowley likes his black and strong and nowhere near anything that could affect the taste. You wring the teabag tortuously into his mug with a teaspoon before grabbing all three servings and heading into the shop. 

You put yours down first, on the side next to the book you’re currently reading, then hand your husbands theirs. They both take them from you in the same way, the way they have done for centuries now, a domestic ritual: accepting the mug you offer and then your hand, pressing a little kiss of thanks and affection to the back of it. 

A heartfelt  intimacy just between the three of you. 

☕️ 

“Hurry Crowley, it’s starting!”

“Yes, yes, alright angel, hang on.”

“We won’t hang on and we’re not pausing it. Not a threat, just a fact,” you call into the kitchen. A couple of seconds later, Crowley emerges from the kitchen with three wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. 

“I’ll be mother, then,” he mutters as the other two of you barely take your eyes off of the telly. You’ve got your legs slung over Aziraphale’s lap and he only takes a break from stroking your knee in absentminded, loving circles to take the proffered glasses from his husband, one for himself and one for you. Crowley plonks down the other side of Aziraphale and throws his own legs over him too, the two of you playing footsie for space across his plush thighs. Eventually the three of you find a comfortable pile and settle in. 

“Another ten weeks of torture begins,” Crowley says as the Bake-off theme ends and the show starts. You nudge him with your toe. 

“You don’t have to watch it with us,” you tell him. He harrumphs but doesn’t argue because, really, of course he’ll watch it with the two of you. It makes you both happy. 

🍞 

Your work is as a consultant for museums around the country, which is a fun way of saying you get paid a lot because you know a lot. But mostly, you only know a lot because you’ve been around for a very long time. So whenever a shard of pottery or a scrap of clothing needs dating they call you to come and put its history into context. 

Also, for the bigger museums, it’s a chance for you to smuggle out the stolen artefacts and return them to their country of origin. You consider it a hobby, a bonus perk of the job. 

You’ve set up this exhibition. It’s for pottery around the end of the Roman rule in Britain, stuff you’ve found and identified around the country on archaeological digs. You lead Crowley and Aziraphale through, discussing your findings in detail, before you come to a small, surprisingly intact, terra sigillata oil lamp. It sits on its own, spot lit. You asked for it that way. 

“See this? I made this. Over a thousand years ago,” you tell them, quietly, gently putting your hand to the glass of the display case. Aziraphale and Crowley take a careful look at the engraving on the object. It bears the profile of a man, and with the sharp cheekbones and little glasses there’s only one person it could be. 

“Oh, Nightingale. It’s lovely,” Crowley says, surprisingly touched. He wraps an arm around you and buries his face into your hair. 

“You could say I’ve held a flame for you for a long time,” you say, and grin. Crowley groans. 

“Did you put my face on a lamp just to keep that pun up your sleeve?”

“Maybe.”

🔥 

You next return to the museum when you pick up that Aziraphale is jealous. He isn’t jealous often but he’s pants at hiding it, and it’s not hard to guess why: he’s just seen that Crowley stuck with you for such a long time you put his face on a piece of bloody pottery. You’d probably be a bit put out too. 

So for a couple of weeks you throw yourself into your work to find the thing that will make it even. And you do, even though it takes a lot of overseas bargaining and promises to do some pro-bono work. 

You finally get the museum in America to agree to send it over for a showing. You arrange a special exhibition specifically for this, where it’s held behind a huge glass case in a dark room with only a small light on it. 

But you get special access because, well, you’re you. So you sneak Aziraphale and Crowley in one night and walk into the display room, wearing a face mask and a pair of protective gloves. 

There it sits: the Canterbury Tales. One of the oldest versions in the world. 

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Aziraphale gasps, peeping over your shoulder to inspect. “I can feel the adoration coming off of it in waves. This was a labour of love, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I’d let you have it for the shop if I had the power. But I think they’d notice if I shoved this one down my top,” you sigh, scanning the pages for what you’re after, then stop dead when you find it. 

“Here. Look.”

You point to one of the illustrations, a mounted rider on a beautiful white horse. Aziraphale takes in a quiet breath and draws closer. Because just as plainly as you put Crowley on your oil lamp, you drew your angel in the Canterbury Tales. Curly hair, pink face, beaming smile. 

“Oh my,” he whispers. You stroke the little picture and remember toiling away over painting it, repeatedly wiping your brow to make sure your sweat didn’t smudge your work. 

“I put you in all the copies I could get my hands on. And you,” you turn to Crowley, “your face is probably buried on my pottery in a dozen dig sites across the UK. I’m just saying I’ve loved the two of you since the day we met; always have, always will.”

Your husbands look at each other and then at you, before as one they step forward to embrace you. 

“And we’re lucky to have you,” Crowley whispers in your ear, as Aziraphale kisses your cheek. Their hands meet at your back and they interlace their fingers with each other, you wrap your arms around them and stay like that for a moment; three working parts of a whole. 

They kiss, and then they kiss you. You feel warm and rosy. Then you spend the evening reading through the book from beginning to end. 

📖 

You keep your wedding ring on a chain around your neck at work. Not because you’re embarrassed that you're married; far from it - it’s far too precious to risk losing while constantly taking protective gloves on and off all day. So you don’t blame your colleague for asking you on a date. He’s young, fresh out of uni, and of course has no idea you’re old enough to be his grandparent forty times over. 

“That’s very kind,” you tell him, and his face falls because he knows where this is going, “but I’m already happily married.”

He sighs in embarrassment but manages to recover quickly, instead telling you: “they must be someone special to have you.”

He’s doing the polite thing by not assuming the gender of your spouse but it turns out “they” is right on the money. On cue, Aziraphale and Crowley walk through the door to pick you up at the end of your shift. You wish your colleague goodbye and go to meet them. 

“Evening, darling,” Crowley calls. 

“How was work, my love?” Aziraphale follows up. 

“Oh, fine. I’m tired now. And hungry. Can we go and get dinner?”

You link an arm through either of theirs, heading out into the London afternoon. 

“Ooh yes, that is a good idea. I quite fancy fish and chips!”

“Let’s go to that spot round the corner. They make their own tartar sauce. Crowley, are you getting your own chips or nicking mine when I’m not looking?”

“The best tasting chips are the ones you steal.”

“Oh, he doesn’t even deny it—!”

Your colleague watches you leave the building, a little dazed, and supposes it takes all sorts to make a world. 

Taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul @idontmeanto @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @cool-iguana @bdffkierenwalker

[oneknightstand-if]

I wish we could have had a pet snake, I'd name it Ouroboros, nickname Ouro for gold in my language. Bonus points if it could be a hognose, they're amazing little guys, and I was so happy seeing one in the most recent public update! I'm loving One Knight Stand, been having a lot of dreams involving it recently, and can say I'm not going to trust Cassandra no matter what, I've already made my mind, she's the infiltrator. Thank you for everything you do, dear author.

Oh no, the dream haunting is bleeding into real life!

Otherwise, most of the MC has been around for twenty-five years, plenty of time to have other pets besides the one that died a couple months before the start of the story. Cool to see that someone triggered the flavor text that actually identified which (potential) snake it was you met in the leyline forest.

Meanwhile...

Cassandra: *taking notes*

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: In the fall of 1939, You are an incoming freshman at Berkeley. Despite your love for literature and the pressure of your parents, you begrudgingly enroll in a Physics course. There you meet J. Robert Oppenheimer; your professor turned into your best friend and most importantly, your lover. Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Nothing major, minus the huge age gap. The reader is 18, and Oppenheimer is at least thirty. Everything is legal and consensual. If this bothers you, please do not read it; thank you! Notes: gonna be a long note, so strap in folks. so i have this tendency to get hyperfocused on a piece of media, get my little gremlin hands on any piece of media about it, devour said piece of media, and then poop out 5k+ words in under 24 hours due to my obsession. this happened two years ago with safin from no time to die, and let me just say that it goes to show that history is a sick cycle. not sick, I'm just literally insane. lol, anyways! here's some lore. last Sunday i saw oppenheimer and thought it was a masterpiece! i also love cillain murphy too, so that's a massive bonus. the next day, i bought american prometheus. i started reading it on tuesday, and finished it on Friday. if you haven't read it, please go read it. the book is impossible to put down, and a lot of characterization of robert and other characters come from the movie, but mainly the novel. this fic is heavily researched. this fic is also very dark too, and the content is...yeah. the age gap is very massive and while legal, very taboo, so please keep this in mind. there will be dark content in this story so be warned. trigger warnings will be in the beginning of every chapter. this is on my tumblr and ao3 as well. here is a playlist i made while writing this , if that does anything. my masterlist is also at work too; the new and updated version will be out next chapter. <a href="url">add yourself to the taglist if you are interested</a>. thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy.

There are people talking, and while they are close, their voices are nothing but mindless mutters.

Despite how much they had to drink, the buzz managed to slow their thoughts yet made them somewhat aware of their surroundings. If you tried, not like they really wanted to, you could point out every little detail around them–all small things, meaningless and unimportant, in the vast growing universe. 

The uneven vintage ski portrait on Hatomi’s side of the room, the dim light covered by the French literature nights on the window sill, the light of the moon in boxy shapes across the aged wooden door, your feet sticking out underneath the blanket and the cool air bringing goosebump to your toes, the heat of your flashlight against your cheek; it’s all so small. 

You’ve known Hatomi, your roommate at Berkeley, for the last week. A Japanese American from Davis, she’s a lover of literature like you, albeit you’re more into Russian and American literature than French. Both of you have concluded that you are different but are different enough to put those said differences aside to be friends. Hatomi, unlike you, is smiley and bright, the type to make a conversation not as awkward. She’s made many friends, some of whom are yours, and you’re thankful for her. In your orientation week at Berkeley, she’s helped you break out of your shell, and you’ve gone around campus and to parties to get out and meet people.

As thankful as you are for Haotmi, you are not very thankful about her bringing in some guy into the room without making it clear and having full-blow sex. Hatomi tries to keep her moans contained, but the slapping and grunts from the man beneath are not in any way contained or quiet. He’s as loud as possible, and you can identify him from one of the many parties you’ve been to, but all of them in your state become a gradual blur. 

There’s a visible outline of the two through your quilt. Hatomi’s on top, and said the man is on the bottom with messy hair. He’s got a hand on her hip, and she nudges forward, her body moving forward. It makes you feel even lonelier than you already feel, but it's not intentional, but it’s certainly a jab. Hatomi cries his name, an emphasis on the end of his name. 

You haphazardly try to catch his name, but end up forgetting it, the alcohol from earlier helping sing you to sleep. 

–

It soon became a cycle—the whole lot of it. 

You’d wake up at seven for your eight in the morning English class. Then you’d head to your philosophy class from nine-thirty to ten-thirty before heading to lunch at eleven. After that break, then comes your Greek class from twelve to one. Then it’s physics. 

It’s not that you don’t like physics. Actually, you love it—the concept is fascinating. The movement, gravity, and being a small thing in the grand scheme of the infinite universe is a topic you could dive into for hours on end. And not to mention, you have a burning hatred for the mathematics of it. You know you can do introductory algebra, but that’s where you draw the line. Calculus and all of that is too advanced. You can do it; at the bare minimum. 

Your class is not that big. It’s your smallest class with ten students, all intrigued by a fascinating professor. 

The first time you met him, he stood by the chalkboard with a huff of smoke following behind him. He wore a dark gray tweed suit and had thick, coarse hair which was wild, maintained with gel. He was tall but not towering and rather slender. With the bluest eyes you had ever seen, you knew that this man was a character; not to mention, he also looked intelligent. 

And that he was. 

Dr.Oppenheimer was the reason you started actually to love physics. Not like, love. He was not an easy teacher; he was complex but rewarding. He took the concept of physics and made it more interesting than it already was, adding another dimension to it that you didn’t think was possible. 

Instead of the class being a lecture, Oppenheimer discussed the fundamental forces and philosophy. He, like you, enjoyed how physics interacted with the classical world. With a cigarette in one hand and a piece of chalk in another, and in his velvety voice, Oppenheimer taught something along the lines of the cosmic universe or the quantum tunnel and would look to his students for their input, arguments, questions, or their voice to the topic. 

You know, or thought he knew, that you weren’t the best at physics, but could always add a philosophical or insight on how physics affects both in the modern and classical world. Sometimes in class, the two of you would dive into a conversation. Oppenheimer would give you a serious loo, staring directly at you with his bright blue eyes. You could have sworn they were the bluest eyes you had ever seen, in which you were. As you challenge you, Oppenehiemr would stare, blowing the occasional puff of smoke. You could see him smile, but maybe that was a part of your imagination. 

Physics was complicated, but not only did you enjoy the class for Oppenheimer, but you also look at Oppenheimer. You would not have said it initially, but he did come and was attractive to you. He looked serious, older, and cold; which all remained true, but he was also intelligent, and that was the most attractive thing to you. His intelligence made him overall even more handsome than he already was. With this new found elevation, you soon began to find everything he did attractive. It became a slight distraction, but it was enough to make you leave class with pink cheeks and smile to yourself all giddy. The fantastical thoughts of “what if” played in your mind, making going to sleep a little easier than it usually it. 

–

On Monday, Oppenheimer deemed that your class was heading into the “most brutal” and “nightmare-causing”  fundamental force of Physics; Quantum Mechanics. 

He also declared it was one of his favorite micro topics in Physics and, in his mind, “not too difficult if you truly look into it.”

 Everyone got a horrible gut feeling in their stomachs. 

Oppenheimer was blunt and did not sugarcoat, which was a fair warning to his class. Quantum Mechanics took everything that was horrible about Physics and made it increasingly worse. Wavefunctions, Eigenstates, Quantum Measurement, and all the new equations hit you like a frictional force. And it began to show on your assignments. 

Your normal average in the class was an A- (with Oppenheimer giving you an E for “exceptional effort”) hanging off the side of a cliff, but this new topic dragged your average down with massive magnetic force. Soon, your average became a B-. Homework assignments and reading responses leaned towards a B, while your test and quizzes averaged at failing or border failing. You felt relieved that one of your quizzes on Bra-Ket Notation came back as a C+. 

Oppenheimer was writing on the board, finishing a Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle equation on the board. He looked at the clock, knowing that class was going to end soon. Putting his chalk down and burning the small amount of his cigarette on the ashtray, he reached for a large stack of his papers. Most had red handwriting with circles, arrows, and question marks. A heavy wave of anxiety hit the class as a perpetual sigh raised. 

You could have sworn Oppenheimer stared directly at you. The vast blue eye started to haunt you, but you convinced yourself it was your mind playing tricks. You turned to one of your neighborhoods and sighed, shaking your head. 

“I understand you are all eager to receive back the recent test on the basic equations of Quantum Mechanics. I have taken my time grading each one and you will see why it looks like a long time,” Oppenheimer noted, with a tinge of dark comedy and sarcasm in his voice. He didn’t look up at the class as he walked around, gently putting each paper on the desk. Each paper he put down made a student who was having a good day a very not good day.

Between the heavy sighs and whispers between the students, you gulped as Oppenheimer passed your desk. He looked down for a split second and put your paper down. He pointed to the red writing right where you had written your name before moving on. Gathering yourself, you grabbed the test, and not your shock, was disappointed. 

Out of forty-five points, you had only gotten nine. It was a new low you had hit in the class. It seemed like it would keep getting lower. Everything was far from right, and he gave those points only because you tried by writing a passage by each equation explaining what you had tried to replicate, knowing it was very wrong. 

You skimmed the front, noticing the red writing on top. He wrote your name in cursive, and you would hear him say it, asking you to “please” meet him. 

And then the bell rang. People talked amongst themselves and gathered their things as they headed out of the classroom. You sat there and sighed, visibly upset. You weren’t going to cry, but you felt like it. You tried not to show it as you began to gather your books, covering the physics test, preparing to get up. 

“Y/n.”

You freeze and look up. Oppenheimer has been leaning on his desk, looking at you like a dashing Spectre. He puts his hands in his pockets and slowly begins to walk towards you. 

“Is this a good time to talk?”

Hearing the word talk made your stomach turn. You look up at him and clasp your hands together, nodding. You feel your left leg begin to shake. 

“Yes, Dr.Oppenheimer.”

Oppenheimer made his way over and stood beside you, leaning on the side of a desk, looking down at you. He took a quick glance at your shaking leg before looking back at you.

“You’re not in trouble.” 

You didn’t verbally acknowledge him, but you took a contained sigh and stopped shaking your thigh, paying full attention to the attractive older man. 

“I want to preface this conversation that you, Y/n, are one of this class’s most active and enjoyable students. Your participation and observation add onto the lesson, helping others around you, and even myself, learn more about Physics,” Oppenheimer said with high praise. He had a regalness to his soft voice. You felt your cheeks burn, containing your smile as you quietly thanked him. You watched his hands fidget inside of his pants pocket. 

“As talented and educated as you are in Academia, especially Physics, I notice you don’t do well on tests and exams. Everything else is excellent, and your effort is always there. However, with tests,” Oppenheimer moved his hand downwards, “It’s all negative. When I got your first test, I found it hard to believe it was your work. But then it all made sense.” 

“Now understand, Y/n, I am not mad or upset. I am worried. I can see there is an act of force, which is your anxiety. I do believe this is something we can work on–” Oppenheimer clearly explained. He saw your shoulders lower, relieve your tension had disappeared, “--Together, outside of the academic setting.”

“Like one-on-one?” You questioned. 

Oppenheimer nodded, “Yes, just the two of us. It would be an hour and a half to an hour, nothing more and nothing less.”

Hearing “just the two of us” made your mind go to wild places. You bit your tongue and squeezed your clasped hands together. You smiled, “Yes, of course. I think this would help a lot.”

“Now tell me, what is your availability? I understand you are busy.”

You shrugged your shoulders. You were busy but also could make time for a lot of spare time. 

“I can do any time work, preferably if you are okay with Friday afternoons,” You brainstormed, thinking about your schedule, “I know you teach a graduate class in the morning, and I have Greek at the same time.”

Oppenheimer furrowed his eyebrows, intensely studying your appearance.

“Friday afternoons?” He questioned, “Don’t you want to be with your friends and not have to worry about work? I understand your drive, Y/n, but I don’t want it to mix with your limited downtime. I hear you are an excellent student, and this is a very fixable grade. I rather you create a balance than an offset. 

While an average first-year would rather skip meeting with a Professor on Friday Afternoons, it didn’t bother you. Getting your grade up in Physis was very important. Education in your family was everything and meant a lot to you. Seeing a C with A’s and A-’s made you feel incomplete. You needed to feel complete. 

“Dr.Oppenheimer, thank you for your concern. I insist that Fridays work as well. Mondays through Tuesdays, I’m either studying or leading other study groups for my other classes. If you are worried about my social life, I can assure you that I do get out of the dorm and library with my friends,” You reassured the older man, “Besides, the whole party scene is really not my scene. I’ve seen enough parties at Berkeley to be okay with missing them. If Fridays don’t work, I will work with your time.”

“Fridays work well for me as they work well for you,” Dr.Oppenheimer concluded. He looked at the clock above his desk before looking at you, “How do Fridays at 5 pm sound?”

“Perfect timing, Dr.Oppenheimer. Shall we meet here?”

Oppenheimer rubbed his index and middle finger on the temple of his head, “Well if you are comfortable, I’d rather congregate at my house rather than the classroom since we will be out of the Academic Day.”

Taken aback by the bold move, your lips made a subtle “o” shape. You squeezed your hands together, contemplating. His house, where he slept, ate, and did other things that were not fit for the academic setting? This made your imagination run wild—the idea of being in his house, just you and him, fed into your fantasy. 

“My house is on Shasta Road. It’s right off the campus. It’s a short walk. However, if you are not comfortable, especially late at night walking home alone, then I can–” 

“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You insisted. He stopped speaking and looked at you, waiting for you to speak.

You stuttered, feeling the heat up your throat to your face, “It is okay. Friday at 5 pm at your house is perfect. The walk will help me clear my mind before tackling the equations.”

Oppenheimer studied your features for a second before coughing and putting his hands together, “So, it’s settled. We will meet tomorrow then. Thank you for your time, y/n.”

As Oppenheimer began to head back to his desk, you stood and gathered your books, ready to head to your Greek class. You could feel how hot your face was, but you couldn’t imagine how red and embarrassing you looked. 

“Thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer. 

Scurrying to leave the classroom in a flustered state, one of your books falls over. It makes a loud slamming noise into the ground. You’ve got a solid amount of books in your hand, varying in topic and weight. Turning around, you are about to awkwardly bend down to pick up the book, but Oppenheimer has beaten you to it. His presence scared you at first. He’s holding the ivory, aged book, examining the cover and back. You stand two inches away from him as you cradle your books, not wanting to say something to disrupt him. 

“Sentimental Education. Is this for class or pleasure?” Oppenheimer inquired. He looked back at you as he placed it on top of your books. He saw the one below, your Greek textbook, was sticking out and about to fall. He made sure to push it in to balance the books and make sure you didn't fall over. 

Not that you were complaining about falling over since he would have to catch you. You cursed at your wild imagination. 

You let out a long uhm before declaring it was for class. More specifically, your English class of The French Adventure: Word, Sound, and Image taught by Mr.Chevalier. But it was unimportant. It was a good book, albeit obscure. Oppenheimer probably thought you were some idiot for both failing a test and reading some silly book. He probably wondered why you were even in a physics class to begin with. 

“Do you like it?” He questioned. 

“Yes, a lot,” You expressed, “It’s the second book we’ve read, but so far my favorite. It was ahead of its time,” You go red, “And even for this time. I don’t know what I’m saying even, my parents made me read it in high school.”

Oppenheimer made a noise of approval, placing his hands on his hips, “Well, it shows that your parents wanted you to be well-rounded, and here you stand at one of the best public universities in the world. So I would say you do know what you are saying since I fully agree.” 

The compliment made you want to make some happy noise, but you bite your lip. You nodded your head and naked it, knowing it came out as a mumble. Everything you said felt super embarrassing. 

“Y/n, I understand you have class,” Oppenheimer cut to the point, “But if you ever want a book recommendation, come to me. I’ve been looking for someone who understands.”

“Understand?” You asked, dumbfounded. 

“Someone who both understands and enjoys art.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage to say. You smile and hold your books closer, “Well, I should-”

“You should-” Oppenheimer highlighted, hands on his hips, “I shouldn’t keep you.”

You wanted to protest that he should, but you didn’t. As you made your way to the door, you looked back. There he stood in his slender and regal form, hands on his hips. For a cold man who never looked happy, he did. You could have sworn his eyes had a spark to them that made them brighter. You felt brighter too. 

On your way out, he froze and looked at you again, and gave a small smile. 

You smiled back. 

–

It’s 4:50pm.

Your mother always said it was better to be very early than to be very late. Those words guided you through life, following you from home to high school to Berkeley. 

After class, you spent the hour getting ready. Taking a shower, you made sure to look your best with low effort. You didn’t want it to appear that you were trying to look good, even though you wore it. Putting on something very casual, you made sure to wear yourself nicely and even added a sweet touch of Chanel Coco perfume that your father had gotten for you in France for your high school Graduation. 

You walk up the hill and spot the house, recognizing the numbers on the mall box. The house is well sized and has the architecture of a craftsman. It’s hidden by numerous large plants and bushes, which you take a second to admire as you walk to the door. Eventually, you reach the door and hesitate to knock. Check your watch, it’s 5:52pm. If he’s busy, you can wait. 

There’s no point in knocking since you can hear the lock on the door unlock. As you put your hands behind your back, the door opens and it reveals Oppenheimer. He looks weirdly normal and this comforts you. He swaps his flannel suit jacket for a white oxford button up with dark slacks. The top button of the shirt is unbuttoned, and in one hand he has a cigarette, in which he is trying to successfully hide. 

“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You greeted with a small smile, squeezing your hands behind your back. 

You could swear you saw a small quirk at the side of Oppenheimer’s mouth. He stands to the side. 

“Y/n, welcome,” He greets. You quietly thank in as you walk in, standing to the side as you clutch onto your brown leather alligator bag with your textbook and notebook. 

“How was the walk?”

“Not bad. It’s nice outside. I’m sorry if I’m early, it’s a bad habit-”

“No need to apologize. It is a good habit. It will serve you well,” Oppenheimer praised once again as he led you into the kitchen. You hadn't been alone with him, let alone in his own house, but he was different. Around others, he was cold and calculated to a tee. But around you, something felt warm and strangely comforting. 

When walking to the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of his house. It feels rather empty, and in a way, very melancholic. 

The kitchen is simple and small. For a California one story however, the kitchen can fit more than two, maybe three. 

“Sit,” Oppenheimer subtly commands. It’s not an intentional command, but upon hearing this, you immediately sit down on the nearest chair. As you pull out your textbook and notebook with some pens and pencils, you can see Oppenheimer rummaging through the fridge and grabbing two glasses. 

“Do you drink?”

You're in the middle of opening your notebook. You look down and lick your lips. 

“Yes.”

He doesn’t respond and proceeds to make whatever drink he is making. You sit there and swing your legs back and forth, waiting in silence minus the shaking and pouring. 

“Speak to me,” Oppenheimer announces. You look at his back as he makes the drink. Once again, he’s slender, but yet strong and vibrant in his appearance, “Go to the first page of your test. Read the equation.” 

You feel lucky Oppenheimer’s turned since your cheeks, like yesterday, have gone to a light pink. 

Obeying his words that feel like a command that you are more than happy to accept, you grab your test and open to the first page to read the first question. 

“Consider a particle in a one-dimensional potential well of width of L and infinite potential barriers at its edges. The potential inside the well is given by V(x)=0 for 0<x<L0<x<L and V(x)=∞V(x)=∞ for x < 0 x<0 and x>Lx>L,” You read out, “The Hamiltonian operator for this system is H; where x is the mass of the particle. Find the allowed energy eigenvalues and corresponding eigenfunctions for this system.”

“A fundamental. Now, tell me your answer.” 

You get your pen and calculator out, placing it at your side. “I started with the Time-Independent Schrödinger Equation and substituted v(x) for the kinetic energy term. Then I tried to solve and it, uhm-”

Not only were the calculations for your test both difficult to answer and hard to process, but having Oppenheimer stand right behind you further proved to be a brain block. He was only an inch away from you as he had leaned to look at your paper, a hand on the back of your sheet which scraped your warm back. You had been so caught on the equation that you hadn't noticed he was an inch behind you, breathing down your neck. Thank god there had been a table since your legs began to shake; a combination of raw anxiety and pure adrenaline. 

You started to write the equation into your calculator, pressing down on each button. Scribbling away at your notebook, you felt his warm breath down your throat. Just as you wrote the solution, you felt him smell behind your ear and into your hair. You had sprayed some perfume there, which was a habit of yours. He leaned into, gentle and careful not to touch you, taking in the airy and smooth feminine scent. Not protesting, you finished your solution and let him bask, all while basking his cold yet comforting presence.

 “The corresponding eigenfunctions are: ∣ψn⟩= Asin⁡(nπxL)∣ψ n ⟩ =Asin( Lnπx ),” You gulped. You felt his warm presence move back, yet his hand remained on the chair. You pushed a piece of hair back, “I guess it’s not too different from my old answer. It’s right, it’s just-”

“The math piece of it,” Oppie pointed out, “Well, there was no issue here. With your calculator of course.”

“Yes,” You chuckled to yourself and looked at the big device. It really did help.

“Use it more,” Oppenheimer said, “Don’t be scared too. Math is not everyone’s strong suit; including mine.”

You smiled at him as he sat in the chair next to you. 

“I don’t know if you drank from our conversation earlier, but I made you a martini,” Oppenheimer said. You looked at it and picked up the drinking, examining the liquid. 

“Oh, thank you. I do, just the…better stuff,” You thanked with a small confession. You took a sip and let the strong liquid ooze down your throat. It was excellent, in which you proceeded to drink more. 

Oppenheimer leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. He wanted to make sure you didn’t see that, but you did. 

For the next hour, the two of you talked about your test. Each question you read out, and he helped you with the math, but overall you were able to solve most of it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. He seemed pleased, and you were as well.

Once you had finished going over the test, you sighed and leaned back leisurely from both Oppenheimer's presence Martini. 

“Well, thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer. This has been short, yet helpful.”

He crossed his arms as he also leaned back, “Of course, I’m pleased to hear.”

There was a silence before you looked at your watch and grabbed your books. 

“It’s 6pm. I’m sure you’ve got things to do, I should go-”

“I’ve only got dinner to make. Chicken, peas, and potatoes,” Oppenheimer said. He smoked another cigarette, which made you wonder how many he smoked a day. You focused on his chapped lips and the way they lightly held the cigarette, sucking in and dragging out ashen smoke. 

“Say, would you like to stay for dinner? There's plenty for two.”

The task made you blink a few times to make sure this wasn’t one of your fantastical thoughts late at night as a way to soothe you to bed. You opened your lips in an attempt to create a coherent response. 

“I can make you another Martini, even show you.”

You knew you were red, but it clearly to him did not matter. 

“Yes, I’d love-would be happy to stay for dinner, Dr.Oppenheimer.” You said, very flattered.

A slow exhale released a veil of smoky allure, as if the very air itself surrendered to Oppenheimer’s fiery elegance.

“If you are staying over for dinner from now on, please, call me Robert.” 

[therentyoupay]

Hey kris! I’ve followed you for a long long time now and am so happy to see you doing your thing and active on tumblr rn. I was really really active a couple months ago and am now on here when time permits. Seeing you pop up on my dash again made me realize I don’t think you’ve ever changed your profile pic since like idk 2012 when I started following you. is there any significance behind the and symbol? I hope you’re enjoying the beginnings of fall ☺️☺️

HELLO, NONNY. 😭🙏💕💕 thank you so much for your lovely lovely message!!! i'm also so sorry that you sent this three days ago when i have actually been super absent from tumblr for the past week or so due to ✨life obligations✨🤣😭🤣!! you and i are in the same boat! super active on tumblr when we can be; otherwise.... we swing by, when life allows. 🤣

thank you so much for your question! you are correct!! 🤣 i started writing fic at age 11 on FFNET through another penname (bonus points if anyone here actually remembers what it used to be, 2001–2011 👀?) and it was a really big deal when i decided to ✨rebrand✨ after ten years! the rebrand to therentyoupay started in december 2011 (long story short: a reviewer left such a nice comment on my FFNET dramione story that it kickstarted me into actually continuing it! comments matter!!) and at the time, ampersands (&) were all the rage, and i was definitely one of the basic bitches obsessed with them. 🤣 (no millennial-"&" tattoo but i did consider it lmao. maybe I'll still get one, one day, so y'all can try to identify me in The Wild lmao.) therentyoupay is from one of my favorite quotes. 🥹🥹🥹💕💕 (does anyone know? 🤣)

so, that following summer in 2012, lok came out and i was lured into making a tumblr! unsurprisingly, my avatar/icon slid over from FFNET/ao3 into tumblr, as did my penname, and i will likely keep it for the rest of my life 🤣 therentyoupay/kris(which isn't my real name👀)/TRYP have now all been associated with this account and my fics for so long that it would cause great confusion and, quite probably, losses in the community i've built over the years!! so TRYP i shall remain forever 🤣

i also personally get so confused when long-term friends on tumblr change their icons and URLs... it's like i no longer recognize them! i have a spreadsheet with everyone's URLs over the years, their names, etc., so i can keep track... but i was also off tumblr for three years during the pandemic 😅😅😅 so i have lost track of a lot of people 🥹 that's why i always really appreciate when people leave a note in their profiles/pinned posts about their previous URLs and a name to call them by! (whether it's a fake name or not lol) otherwise i don't have a name for them–they're just their URL lol, and their "face" is just their icon. 🤣

and yes, i totally am!! 🍁🍂🍃🍁🍂🍃🍁🍂🍃 i'm feeling so lucky and so grateful for all the amazing things happening in my life right now 😭🙏 if only 2012!kris had any idea what was in store for her.... 🤣💕💕💕

LOVE YOU, NONNY. TAKE CARE AND HAVE AN AMAZING REST OF YOUR WEEK. 💕💕💕💕🙏🙏🙏🥹🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕 thank you so much for this beautiful ask!

[leliwardens]

hello! I've recently been drawn back into DA:O after not playing the games for like 7 years, and am thus in the clutches of Leliana thoughts. I went through your Leliana tag and saw that sometimes you headcanon her mother as being Orlesian, not just that she moved there from Fereldan. I've seen Oisine (which, where does that name come from lore-wise, I feeel like a bad fan for not knowing her mother had a name) be traced back to the Irish masculine name Oisín (1/2)

but to me Oisine reads as much more of a made-up "French sounding" name - it parses as being linguistically closer to Voisine or Oiseaux to me (francophone though, so biased), and I'm not sure if Irish has the feminine e endings(?), but French does. Just wanted to forward that thought, based on what I'm sure was a years-ago post of yours, because I've also always headcanoned Leliana and her mother as being firmly Orlesian. Adds a little more spice to the setting, and of course, francophone bias

hi hello friend i ALWAYS welcome anything leliana dragonage!! and glad we're all on the same boat together for her...

and I do hope you enjoy my tag because prior to the recent resurgence in the last year I have NO idea what's in there dkfdsf. but also don't feel bad! oisine's name only comes from the world of thedas lore books and only a single mention, not much else.

but tysm for sharing your knowledge about her name! :D all I found was the wiki page about the legendary character, oisín, who was regarded as the most famous poet in ireland. so i can see them starting from that point but going "it is not French Enough" and mixing it up a little.

I've.....also not actually given thought to how oisine would identify (o if it was years ago I posted about it, don't remember sdksfsdf). leliana gives two contradicting accounts about where she was born (which I think is just an oversight vs character or lore beat):

(and I'm pretty sure she says after she didn't directly step food in ferelden til years later)

personally, I like she wasn't born yet when lady cecilie left and was born directly in orlais for thematic reasons, but for oisine it does raise some curious questions! presumably, how one would identify would vary, given up until that point, ferelden was considered part of orlais, or at least a territory of it. oisine's name in-universe being orlesian would be pretty fitting in that case, or at last not outside the norm since orlais nobles did occupy denerim (isolde's family is another one also).

so this could mean with whatever flavor you want it to be, with oisine considering herself orlesian (or maybe not caring as much) but with leliana grabbing at whatever she can from her mother because she remembers so little, so oisine living in denerim = ferelden to her and so she's ferelden. ack...my poor sweet girl..... :''')

or maybe oisine was the same as her daughter, and despite growing up amongst orlesians and/or occupied ferelden, proudly considered herself a ferelden, even when she left her home. could add some homesickness there, or telling little bitty leliana one day she'll show her where she grew up...ack....my poor sweet girl x 2

this is all a big treat for me to think on and throw into my lore so thank you so very much!!!

(bonus for me is I hc oisine as elven, so another juicy layer for me hehe)

[katscatnip]

Listening to one song on repeat

My experience with listening to a certain sound or song on repeat for long periods of time.

Shown below all this text is my most recent streams on Spotify. as you can see,, there is just one song listed, and that's because It's all I've listened to for the past 2 days or so.

I have done this kinda thing sing as long as I recall having personal access and control over what I listen to. my earliest memories of it being the time my mom let me chose the song we play on the sound system (the song in question was Rock the Nation by Michael Franti) and i would constantly ask her to "play it again!" until she couldn't handle it anymore. Next it was when we bought the Curious George movie on CD and in the bonus features, there was a music video for the song played earlier in the movie Upsidedown by Jack Johnson (again was eventually asked to stop playing it over and over lmao.

Next was when i was old enough to stay for the "after school program" it essentially let the kids get into fun toys and boardgames and such and what I would do every single time is find one of the three sony CD walkmen in the electronics box, put in the Shrek soundtrack cd and set SmashMouth's allstar to loop, then proceed to walk up and down the gym's left wall gliding my fingers against the textured grout for the next hour and a half to three hours depending if it was an extended day.

Next was another walkman, my older sibling's bf at the time would bring one over with him when he visited along with his latest playlist burned to a cd and would let me borrow it. this is when I heard the oh-so-familiar and desired FireFlies by Owlcity (my current fav song at the time that I could only hear on the car radio when going into town) where I would proceed to lie on my upper bunk bed in complete darkness and imagine I was in space.

Another time was when a different friend would bring over their iPod and I would loop a couple greenday and Metallica songs over and over (I don't remember the song names now lmao)

Fast forward to my teen years im actively annoying my siblings after playing a song 7 times too many. yada yada ya-

I am aware of that now,,

my friends have been pointing out traits that were worth looking into for a while and I finally did and ya. when I went in they said it was not hard to notice and identify it from the moment I walked in the door.

Anyway, this post isnt about that its actually about how self-aware and insecure I've become from having others perceive this part of me. I've never really had any bad experiences aside from the occasional family member shout at me to "stop playing the same song" which is whatever.

The real issue for me is things like Spotify Wrapped and the idea that what I listen to as an auditory stim is perceived as my "taste" in music and such. i guess its rooted in maintaining a kind of character in the social aspect, and feeling like I have to make what I listen to look palatable to peers and that means having a high listen count and knowledge of artists whose music has meaning and depth while also not being caught listening to the opposite (breakcore, hyperpop, noise, goofy nonsensical hip-hopy stuff, etc)(?)

Which I'm finding to be stackingly exhausting and I think I've trying this year and lastyear to give myself the grace of being me and not conforming to the shape I feel pressured to fit into.

I hear and read a lot of peer's takes or reviews on music and such (which I think is important to have ofc) but it kinda feels to cliquey for me to feel fully comfortable being in those circle's conversations.

sometimes i just like the noises and vibration pattern coming from a specific artist's stuff and don't take in or care about the meaning or depth of a song's lyrics,, anyways yeah. here's some of the semi-recent past loops: (noise warning on some!🔊) 757, Hollywood baby, Improved mashcore, kickback, 3 o'clock things, Being so normal, Uncanny long arms, Leg room, Stuck Inside

below is my current song backslide by 21 Pilots. the tapeworm synth and silly bass drops itch the itch good :+)

[alkaliineee-old]

is that SABRINA CARPENTER? oh, no, that’s CLEMENTINE BEAUREGARD , a TWENTY-THREE year old BOTTLE SERVICE GIRL at CATCH ME IF YOU CAN who uses SHE/HER pronouns. they currently live in VIÑA DEL MAR, and the character they identify with most is PINKIE PIE from MY LITTLE PONY hopefully they find their own little paradise here in el país de los poetas! 

BASIC STATS .

FULL NAME . clementine maisie beauregard

NICKNAME(S) . clem, lemmie, lemon, minnie, teeny

AGE/BIRTHDAY/ZODIAC . 23 / july 22 / cancer

SEXUALITY . bicurious

BIRTHPLACE . cleveland, georgia

HEIGHT . 4'11 ¾

EYES . blue

ILLNESSES/CONDITIONS . sweeet(anxie)teaaa

PIERCINGS . standard lobe.

FC . sabrina carpenter

FAMILY  .

FIRST LAST ( relation, alive/deceased )

blake beauregard (father/alive)

grace beauregard abernathy (mother/alive)

(half sibling/alive)

OTHER CONNECTIONS   .

TBA

EDUCATION   .

secondary education completion certificate

tried university for a year but it was not for her

LANGUAGES   .

english. spanish.

WORK   .

Position

tearista at little leaves tea house (previous)

bottle service girl at catch me if you can (current)

FAVORITE   .

ANIMALS. cats. horses. ducks. cows. BAKED GOODS. lemon rolls. peach cobbler. fried apple pies. berlines chilenos. COLOURS. yellow. pink. orange. DRINKS. sweet tea. lemonade. fanta peach. fresh orange juice. mango slush. FRUIT. peaches. mangos. oranges. pineapple. cherries. HOLIDAY. christmas. ICE CREAM. peach. mango sorbet. cherry garcia. MOVIE. spirit: stallion of the cimarron. MUSIC GENRES. country. pop. SCENTS. citrus. chamomile. vanilla. SEASON. summer. SNACKS. lays original. cotton candy. cuchuflí. fruit cups. WEATHER. sunny. 

AESTHETIC   .

what are words? here is her pinterest instead.

PERSONALITY   .

+ affectionate

+ bubbly

+ optimistic

- emotional

- indecisive

- naive

BACKGROUND .

clementine was born in cleveland georgia to her adoring parents who were highschool sweethearts. her father was a rancher and her mother was a homemaker. they predominantly had cattle, alongside a handful of horses, and then somehow (lemmie's pleading) winded up with a flock of ducks and a few donkeys. she spent most of her time outside with the animals and truly couldn't have been happier.

tw: infidelity when she was thirteen, her parents separated, the reasoning unknown to her (coughherfatherhadanaffaircoughandgotanotherwomanpregnantcough) but that was when her mother decided to do something for herself and go back to school, though instead of choosing somewhere in the state or even the country, she decided on chile, starting off as a student, and then going on to later become a professor at the very same university. there started the years of travelling back and forth from one home to the other, during the school year clem would stay in chile with her mom, and during her breaks at school she would fly back to georgia to be with her dad, though christmas' were traded off each year. post school, it was really up to her to decide when and where she spent most of her time, and while she does still go back to visit her father (and all the animals) she decided to stay in chile full time.

HEADCANONS .

has a two year old orange persian cat named marigold that she loves with alllll her heart.

naps > normal sleep schedule. there's no less than five pillows on her bed at all times and at least one of her blankets has to be fuzzy.

spends a lot of her time outside. while not athletically inclined, aside from horseback riding, she does enjoy a good hike. and picnics. and the beach.

can be found singing into a hairbrush at any given time.

habitual wearer of cowboy boots and hats, you can take the girl off the ranch but you can't take the ranch out of the girl, or something like that.

a baker ! now she's not about to be on the great british bake off or anything of the sort, but she can manage to make a little sweet treat, bonus points if it turns out cute.

has been a bottle girl for around six months, and while she's not a partier, the tips at catch are so much better than what she was getting at little leaves.

has a little southern twang that’s definitely more prominent when she gets back from georgia.

mama mia is very very close second for her favourite movie

this will be added to as i think of things but yeah.

WANTED CONNECTIONS .

platonic soulmate: the #1 love of her life, duh. give me her person pls & thx. <3

bad influence: v much naive and always wanting to see the best in people, it wouldn't be hard at all for someone to lead her astray tbh. it's like shaking a bag of treats at a good doggo.

ex: boyfriend? situationship? fling? could have been messy, or could have ended amicably, the world is our oyster.

roommate: i haven't decided on anything in regards to her living situation other than it's somewhere in viña del mar, so this is totally open to just about anyone/anything.

other: literally open 2 just about anything and everything. friends. people that find her annoying. girly group. crushes. childhood friends. second parental figures. if you have an idea i am all ears.

[ozimagines]

dating ryan o’reily would include . . PRETTY PLEASE !!!! 🤌

Oh absolutely. The appearance of the please is inconsequential lol I’ve always wanted to write this. The key to Ryan O’Reily is he puts his whole pussy into everything he does, and I feel like dating him would be more of the same. I present to the council:

Dating Ryan O’Reily would include…

The key to this man is obsession

Could be your looks, could be something you said, could be something you did for him; it doesn’t matter. Once he’s hooked, he’s hooked.

Will jokingly flirt at first, making quick passes at you, but he’s a flirty guy so you just assume it’s another O’Reily-ism

“Lookin’ good today… very good.”🥵

That is until you notice all your stuff starting to disappear.

It’s little things at first; a hat of yours, some makeup, but then you notice one of the pillows on your bed is missing

Bring it up and he’ll deny it, but he wanted to own some part of you

The real kicker is when you meet Cyril

Cyril immediately distrusts you; he remembers Ryan and the bad lady (Howell)

But you’re kind and gentle with him, and better yet, you don’t talk around him like he’s an object. You talk to him. And he notices these things.

“I like you… can we be friends?”🥹

When Ryan comes down the stairs to meet you, you and Cyril are talking like old friends, watching Miss Sally and discussing if Nooter or Pecky is better.

At this point, Ryan is more in love with you than ever.

He tells you as much, not bothering to ask you on a date before confessing his love.

“Hey, I love you. I love you more than anything.”💘

(If you’re same sex, he’ll insist he’s not a “fag” but say he loves you all the same, hoping you “know the difference🧐”)

It… it’s a bit much. Even for you, who feels the same.

You ask if you can take it slow.

He says yes yes yes and then tells everyone you’re in love and will be together forever🤣

He remembers all your food orders. Like, down to food restrictions and preferences on toppings lol.

Anything you don’t like, he’ll eat for you and give you his meal.

“Yeah, one Venti iced pumpkin spice latte with oat milk, three pumps of pumpkin, one pump vanilla, cold foam, and a sprinkle of cinnamon. And one regular coffee, I guess.” 🤣

Kind of a guy who when he stops quickly or short in the car, he puts out his arm over your chest to stop you from lurching forward.🥲

Dates are always epic and wild

He took you to a fair and won you and Cyril the biggest stuffed animals they have; you can barely carry it, but it’s a point of honor for him.

He took you to the zoo (lots of your dates include Cyril) and put you up on the rails over the lion pit, him being the only thing stopping you from going over.

Talk about trust lol

Ryan fucks like a beast but he makes love as well

Cotton sheets and candles lit, Ryan’s lips grazing over your body.

He holds you gently, like he holds Cyril after nightmares, kissing you all over.

Ryan, like many guys in Oz, just wanted to a chance to do over his life❤️‍🩹

And you gave it to him. Everything. His everything.

He wants kids with you, adopted or otherwise. Starts calling you mommy/daddy to get you on board

Cyril gets very excited to be and uncle, and even though you were worried about him being gentle with a kid, Cyril holds them like a mama bear holds a baby cat😅

Ryan had to learn some things, like not to smoke around the baby and that kids can go into poker houses🙃

He still teaches his kid to play poker and pick a lock because “you never know, right?”

You find him staring at you a lot, and when you ask what he’s thinking, all he says is “I’m lucky, that’s all.”

“I love you. I love you with everything I have.”

“Love you too, Ryan.”

Bonus: Ryan loves Sitcoms! He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes dis-functional families that all still love each other. He tears up every time a show ends. His favorite is Cheers, because he identifies with Sam Malone.