#but im thinking about and how much easier it was to have a coffee after work with someone you know you like and you know you want to

[fireproofby1d]

wow i hate hate hate hate hate HATE hate hate HATEEEEE dating with a passion

[toxic3mmy]

Please!!! More Toxic Alex

prompt: toxic alex wants you all to himself

warning: smut!!! i haven't been writing lately due to work and family stuff and school but luckily this was sitting in my drafts for a while! Enjoy!!! PS... this isn't proofread teehee, srry for spelling or grammar mistakes <33

you sat at the table in the coffee shop where you were supposed to meet him. he had texted you earlier that same morning and you knew it was something you needed to do. you needed this closure for your own sake

the chime on the door caught your attention as alex walked in about 20 minutes after you sat down. the moment your eyes met his, you almost gave in completely. until you remembered how many nights you spent crying over him

"you're not going to believe this," Alexis said, his voice low and urgent as he sat in front of you, "but i had the craziest dream about you last night”

you looked up from the book you were reading, the words on the page suddenly blurring together, "oh?"

alexis leaned closer, his eyes darkening, "yeah, it was like you were calling out to me. and the moment i woke up, i just had to see you"

you took a sip of your coffee, trying to keep your cool. "well, it's good to catch up," you said, setting the book aside. "what’s this important talk you wanted?"

alexis's gaze held yours for a moment too long. "i’ve been thinking," he began, his hand reaching out to cover your cold hand, "about us."

there was a sudden thud in your chest. the warmth from his hand was a stark contrast to the chill his words brought. "alexis," you said, your voice firm, "we're over"

"i know," he replied, his grip tightening slightly, "but i can't help feeling like there's unfinished business."

you pulled your hand away, eyes narrowing, "there isn't"

alex leaned back in his chair, his expression a mix of anger and determination. "is that what your new boyfriend tells you?"

“don’t” you warned him sternly, “let me guess, you saw me with rubius earlier and you all of a sudden want me? yeah, no. you had your chance and you ruined it, remember?”

“so what if i saw you with that idiot? are you seriously trying to make this about him when we’re talking about us?” he raised his voice and sneered at you

“there is no us! i know for a fact that you’re being impulsive and acting on this jealousy you have towards any guy that even breathes in my direction” you said quietly, looking around to see if anyone else was looking at the two of you

“alex, please, let’s take this someplace private. i don’t want to do this here” you said and alexis quietly nodded, walking you out of the cafe and into his car

the two of you were incredibly silent as you drove to his house. there was so much tension between the two of you that you were so close to breaking down

you felt the unfinished conversation build up unpleasant questions and accusations

“do you seriously think that little boy is better than me? im the best you’ll ever have, honey” he smirked as he shut the door behind him and sat next to you on his sofa

“you didn’t even want me before and now that i’m moving on from you, you want me? you’re fucked up” you sighed

you were so frustrated with everything, especially him and his stupidly handsome face

“stop fighting this. just accept it, that loser will never compare to me” he whispered, using his fingertips to guide your face closer to his

“don’t call him that! he’s more of a gentleman than you will ever be. not that it’s any of your concern but he’s already taken me out on five dates and we just started dating last week”

“five dates? and you just got together? i gotta hand it to you, you’re easier than i remember. i guess i was wrong, you’re not mine, you’re free game” he said with disgust written all over his face

you couldn’t believe what he was saying, what he was calling you

“you have got to be kidding me” you said through gritted teeth

“oh i’m not, actually. face it y/n, that guy is nothing. he’s pathetic. you really want him? fine, have him. but you’ll come crawling back to me in the end. you need me” he inched closer to you with every exclamation

“i don’t need you! i can’t believe i ever liked you! rubius treats me better than you ever have!” you were yelling now as everything from the past you shared with alexis was coming back into your mind

“aw, how cute. you think he actually knows anything about you? i bet he doesn’t. not like i do. the sweet spots on your body, or how easy it is to make you tick. i know you better than that poor bastard can even imagine right now” he was practically hovering over you now

you immediately shoved him harshly, trying to keep as much space between the two of you as possible

“you think that just because you had my attention for one summer that you know me? nothing is the same anymore. you don’t know me at all. all you know is yourself, you selfish twat” you spat at him

you were standing now, collecting your things and moving towards the door to flee from this nightmare come true

“ha! me? selfish? please y/n. you’re telling me those moments we spent together meant nothing to you? that whole summer? you’re really just going to stand there and look me in the eyes and say that bullshit?” alexis stood and moved closer to you, not yet wanting you to go

“i loved you! i fucking loved you, alexis. and you didn’t love me back. you were too busy trying to look cool in front of your little prissy friends. not to mention the way you embarrassed me in front of everyone when you grabbed that girls ass. all for what? temporary asshole friends looking for a laugh?” you angrily wiped away the tears from your face

“i… i didn’t know you felt that way…” he said in a small and almost embarrassed voice

“of course you didn’t. i shut you out of my life and you never even tried to reach out to me. that was the last time we talked. you’ve been walking around with your nose up in the sky acting like your shit don’t stink. well, im over you, alex”

he stayed quiet as you continued,

“rubius is the complete opposite of you. he’s sweet, he’s considerate, and most importantly he doesn’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks. he takes care of me”

“i can recall how well i can take care of you, princesa. don’t you remember? or do you need a little help remembering?” alex said, inching towards you, his hand running down your back

“get your hands off of me!” you yelled, reaching out to move his hand away from you

suddenly, he grabbed your arm harshly and pinned you up against his front door

tears began to fall as he leaned into you

“don’t be rude y/n, be a good girl, yeah?” he said, trying to act unbothered and nonchalant

“alexis… please… just tell me what you want” you whispered as more tears rolled down your cheeks

“i think you know what i want… and i know you want me too…” he smiled innocently

“i d-don’t… i don’t want you…”

“come on y/n, let me at least give you a goodbye present. some closure, so to speak” he let go of you gently and opened his arms, asking you for one last hug

you sniffled and thought it over,

all you wanted to do was get the closure you needed and go home and so you slowly walked into his arms and let his warmth engulf you completely

you held him so tightly. you still felt so much love for him in your heart despite the way things ended. you pulled away and wiped your face, smiling sadly at alex.

“tell me, y/n, do you still love me?” alex asked in a small and sad voice

you nodded

“of course i do. i’ll always have a place for you in my heart. you were my first love” you sniffled, looking desperately into his eyes to find an ounce of that same affection you held for him

“aw sweetheart,” he reached into your back pocket and grabbed your phone. your heart immediately sunk as you saw your boyfriends name appear on your phone screen

“let's see what he has to say about that”

with a flick of his thumb, the facetime connected. the room grew tense once again as the line rang once, twice, then a click

"hello?"

you jumped closer, snatching the phone from alexis's hand

“what the hell are you doing?"

he smirked, standing closer to face you, "just giving him a little taste of what he's been missing out on"

“alex, no!" you tried desperately to hang up, but he grabbed the phone back

"look," he said, turning the screen to face me. your boyfriend's confused expression filled the screen. "you're mine, remember?"

the call went live, and alexis pulled you into a harsh kiss, his other hand holding the phone up so rubius could see. the sound of his voice, begging you to stop, was like a knife to your heart

alexis's hands roamed over your body, and you felt a mix of anger and revulsion. but there was something else, too – a flicker of the desire you once shared, a reminder of how intense things had been between the two of you

"see this?" Alexis murmured against your mouth, his eyes locked on the phone screen, "you still want me"

you pushed him away, the phone still in his hand

"you're pathetic," you spat, "this isn't going to change anything"

alex's eyes flashed with rage. he threw the phone on the couch, shattering the screen

"fine," he growled, "but if you think you can just walk away from me like this, you're wrong"

he stalked over to you, his movements predatory. you cautiously stepped back, your hand still on the door handle

"you're not leaving," he said, his voice low, "not until we settle this"

the air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved anger

"we're not doing this," you said, your voice shaking "i need to leave."

alexis took another step forward, his hand reaching out to grab your arm, "you owe me," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper, "you owe me everything"

with surprising strength, you shoved him back, "i don't owe you anything," you said, the anger evident in your shaky voice, "now get out of my way"

he smirked, his eyes dark and hungry, "you know you want this," he said, starting to unbutton his shirt, "you always did"

your eyes widened as he began to peel your shirt off over your head, "no," you said, voice strained, "i don't," but the lie felt heavy on your tongue

alex's hands moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them with a deliberate slowness

"you're mine," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours, "always have been, always will be"

as you stood there, half-dressed, the weight of his words hung between you. the room was silent and all that could be heard was the harsh breathing

"we despise each other," you said barely above a whisper, "this isn't love"

he pulled you closer, his hands on your bare skin

"it's better than love," he said, his breath hot against your neck, "it's power"

you couldn't deny the heat building between the two of you as you stumbled towards the bedroom, your bodies tangling together in a dance of anger and lust. each touch was a declaration of war, each kiss a battle cry. you both tore at each other's clothes, the fabric ripping under your desperate grip

"you never loved me," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you fell onto the bed

"i never had to," he murmured, his eyes burning into yours, "i owned you, but that doesn't take away from the fact that you're the best piece of ass i've ever had"

with that, he pushed you down onto the bed, his weight pinning you as he tugged at your body with an angry urgency. his touch was rough, his kisses bruising, but you couldn't ignore the dark thrill that shot through you

your bodies moved together in a fiery dance of spite and passion, each touch a silent declaration of your mutual contempt. alex's eyes bore into you, filled with a blend of anger and desire as he yanked your shirt over your head, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air. his own clothes followed in a flurry of fabric, each piece discarded with the same aggression he used to claim you

"i don't want you," you murmured through clenched teeth as his hands found the clasps of your bra, pulling it down roughly. he smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph

"the feeling's mutual," he said, his voice thick with lust. his bare chest pressed against you, the heat of his skin searing into your own. the weight of him was a prison, yet your body arched towards him, betraying the anger coursing through your veins

"admit it," he breathed into your ear, "you want this as much as I do"

you swallowed hard, the truth lodged in your throat. "no," you managed to say, but it was a weak protest. the fire between you had never been about love; it was a toxic mix of obsession and control

alex's hand trailed down your body, his fingers tracing the lines of your curves with a possessive touch. one of his hands settled at the crook of your neck, just like he used to have it when you were together

"tell me," he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper, "tell me how much you need me"

your voice was hoarse as you complied, the words coming out in a rush, "i hate you, alexis"

"and yet," he chuckled, his hand moving from your throat to down in between your quivering legs, "you're so wet for me."

the admission hung in the air, thick and heavy with the scent of your desire. you both knew it was true – your bodies had always responded to each other's anger, your passion a twisted knot of love and hate. alex's hands continued to explore your body, each touch a declaration of his dominance

"say it again," he ordered, his voice a low rumble as his fingers found their way inside you. the words tumbled out of your mouth like a confession

"i hate you"

"that's right," he murmured, his mouth finding your neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh. "you hate me, but you can't resist me."

your eyes met, locked in a battle of wills. the anger in his gaze was intoxicating, a challenge you couldn't ignore. you hated him, but as your bodies moved together in a frantic rhythm, it was clear that the line between love and hate had always been blurred.

with a snarl, you pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard, your nails digging into his skin. he groaned, his grip on you tightening as your movements grew more erratic

his fingers were curling deeply inside of your tight gummy walls. he was down beneath you on the bed now, his head buried happily between your thick thighs

“oh fuck! mmmf.. i hate you! i hate you so much!” you whined, your fingers pulling at his hair

“yeah darling? fuck that’s so sexy, tell me again” he said, coming up from your cunt for a brief moment

"i hate everything about you! except your cock… i need you inside of me, you fucking asshole!” you pleaded desperately

your hands fumbled furiously, until you found his hard and throbbing member. you pumped him slowly, in hopes that he would get inside of you already

“oh baby, if that’s how you want me. your wish is my command” he said before giving your leaking pussy one last lick before moving so that he was standing

he placed a pillow underneath your lower back and pulled your legs to dangle on either side of you. as he slowly pushed his thickness into your pussy, your eyes squeezed shut at the sudden stretch. he was so much bigger than you remembered

“my baby girl, look at me. that’s it, you’re doing so well. tell me who this pussy belongs to” alex smirked as he pulled your body impossibly closer, pumping himself in and out of you

“it’s so so good! it’s all yours! fuck.. it’s yours, alexis” you cried out as alex buried his cock deep inside of you

"that's right sweetheart, you’re such an obedient little girl for me” he praised as he fucked you like never before

you needed him closer, you needed to close the distance between your warm naked bodies. alex sensed what you wanted and he pulled you up from the bed, settling you on his toned belly as your legs curled around his body in an effort to help keep you upright.

whimpers and moans filled the air as alexis pinned your back against the nearest wall. he was fucking into you relentlessly, never giving you a chance to breathe. you were in complete ecstasy

suddenly, alexis captured your mouth in a passionate kiss. nothing else in the world mattered in that very moment

"this doesn't change anything," you panted, breaking the kiss

"it doesn't have to," he smirked, his eyes filled with victory, "as long as you're still mine."

your hate-filled union reached its climax, your bodies trembling with the force of your release. for a moment, you were locked together, bound by the intensity of your shared history. but as the passion ebbed away, the cold reality of what you had just done settled over you like a shroud

the silence that followed was deafening, filled only with the sound of our ragged breathing. We lay there, our hearts racing, the space between us charged with the electricity of our unspoken truths.

alex rolled off of you, his eyes never leaving my face. "this isn't over," he said, his voice a warning

"It's never been over," you replied, your voice filled with a sadness that even surprised you

you dressed in silence, the weight of your actions pressing down on you like an unseen force. as you slipped your shirt over your head, the fabric whispered against your skin, a stark reminder of the power he still held over you

when you were both dressed, alexis handed you your phone, the screen a jagged mess of shattered glass

"call him," he said, his voice cold

you took the phone, my hands shaking, "why?"

"because," he said, "i want him to hear it from you, y/n"

you dialed the number, your heart in your throat. when your boyfriend answered, you took a deep breath

"rubius... you need to come over," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I need to tell you"

as the line went dead, you looked at alexis, the realization of what you had just done crashing down on you. his smug smile told you everything you needed to know – this was just the beginning of his twisted plan for revenge

[mikachacha]

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛) 𝙿𝚝.1

𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎, 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: slight angst and start of toxic relationship 🥹🥹

(A/N: im so nervous and happy to be finally uploading this piece here in tumblr 🥹🥹 ive been thinking about this for so long and finally had the courage to upload it now)

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

It's been a week since you graduated in college and it still felt like a dream to you. You're one step closer to your dreams and how can you ever forget that day? It was the same day that Bada finally asked you out to be her girlfriend after knowing each other for a year. You couldn't believe your luck to have all your hard work finally pay off and to have such a gorgeous girl to be yours. It's like you've won the lottery.

"Baby, I have a surprise for youuu.." Bada said with a grin on her face and you looked at her, curiosity visible on your face which made her grin even more. You're hanging out in her apartment since you have nothing else to do and you're just waiting for a response from all the companies you've applied to, not that you're way too worried about it since you had other plans if no one responds.

"What is it?" you asked and she placed two plane tickets to Korea on the coffee table that made your eyes go wide and for you to hug her tight. Despite being Korean like her, you grew up in the states since your family migrated before you were even born. So going to Korea with Bada will be your first time there and you're thrilled.

"We're gonna go to Korea, go to my hometown and maybe introduce you to my family and close friends." she says and you couldn't stop yourself from kissing her. You're overjoyed. So many emotions are playing in your head. You're happy that you get to go to Korea, happy that she's going to introduce you to family and friends but also worried that they're not gonna accept you since you barely speak and understand Korean and don't know much about the culture.

Days pass and both of you are busy buying gifts for her parents, packing your things and last minute checking. You're ecstatic and Bada is happy seeing you get all excited. She loves how adorable you look and would often tell you so. She'd take you out on little dates, give you lots of love and just doing her best to make you feel loved. You loved it yet there's a small voice at the back of your head that kept saying it's a bit weird but you pushed it away as overthinking considering you came from toxic and abusive relationships.

"Alright, ready for our flight baby?" Bada asked and you nodded eagerly. You just arrived at the airport with her and she was holding your hand the whole time which made you feel giddy and loved. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze as you and her begin your adventure together.

The trip was long yet it was all worth it. When you landed, you were in awe. Everything is so different from the states, it's definitely a shock for you and you're just thankful that Bada is there to help you. She did the talking, navigating and just made your life much easier for you. When you were inside the cab, Bada turned a bit to talk to you since she said it's gonna take a while to reach her parents house which you didn't mind at all.

"Baby.. I know this will sound like shit but can we keep it low-key at my parents' house? Like we're gonna act like best friends while we're there since they're pretty traditional and don't really accept us as a couple yet. But don't worry, I will slowly talk to them about us so they'll be more open minded about us." Bada says and you feel your heart break from her words. You looked at her, trying to reassure yourself that your girlfriend is just playing a joke on you but the look on her face says otherwise. You wanted to cry, you wanted to get out of the cab and go back to the states but you forced yourself to think rationally. You took deep breaths and sighed, nodding your head. What else can you really do in this situation? You're already here, yeah it hurts but you also didn't want to ruin the trip for Bada.

"Alright.. But we'll talk more about this when we go back to the states." you said sternly and she nodded, placing kisses all over your face and saying sorry for putting you through the situation you're about to go through.

You finally arrived at her parents' house and they were waiting for you outside. Her parents welcomed you warmly and they even had a meal set up for you and Bada, saying that both of you must be starving from such a long trip which is quite true. Seeing the feast in front of you, you were amazed. Bada would always order Korean food or take you to a Korean restaurant, having authentic homemade ones really hits differently. Bada talked to her parents mostly while also translating stuff for you and you would also make an effort to talk to them in Korean to which Bada's parents really appreciated. It was fun, you felt happy that you forgot the pain you felt earlier when you were with Bada in that cab.

You both rested for a bit after the meal since Bada told you that she'll drive you around the neighborhood so you can fully enjoy Korea's beauty since the fall season has already begun. You didn't talk to her that much, you're still pretty upset from earlier and what made you more upset is she didn't try to talk to you. You were about to contact your best friend just to vent out when Bada took your phone and tossed it on the bed before kissing your lips. It's like she didn't want you to talk to anyone regarding her odd behaviour.

"What the fuck?" was all you could say after pulling away from her kiss and she looked at you, her eyes getting all sad and you strangely felt guilty even though you didn't do anything wrong.

"You're still upset.. I'm sorry.. I really wanted to introduce you to them as my girlfriend but then they won't welcome you and I don't want that to happen.." she says and hugs you, resting her chin on your shoulder.

"Yeah I'm still upset but what can I do, really? We're already here. Might as well stick to your plan until we get back to the states then we'll sort this out." you told her and she nodded, placing a kiss on your cheek.

She took you out that afternoon, driving around the neighborhood and taking you to the places she used to go to. Bada's really doing her best to make you feel loved, to make you feel special until you forget everything that happened earlier. You loved the affection you're getting from her. It got you thinking that maybe she's really making up for this whole situation and that everything will be okay eventually. You're really hoping for things to go well eventually for you and Bada.

"And this is where I usually grab dinner during my highschool days with my friends. They sell the best fried chicken here and their kimchi is to die for." Bada raves as she pulls you inside a small restaurant. You couldn't help but smile at how cute she is. You gave her hand a small squeeze as you followed her. You were busy looking around and bumped into her when she suddenly stopped. You were about to ask her why she stopped when you saw a guy in front of you and Bada.

"Who's this pretty girl with you, Bada?" the guy asked and you looked at Bada, confused. She smiles at you, before facing the guy again.

"Hey Howl. This is Y/N, my girlfriend." Bada said coolly and the guy just chuckled, shaking his head in amusement like he couldn't believe that you're Bada's girlfriend.

"I'm hurt, Bada. You didn't break up with me properly and now you're back with a girlfriend? Will this make us a trio now? Do we have an alternating schedule?" Howl teased and Bada just shoved Howl out of the way, not saying anything. You're stunned by the interaction and wanted to ask Bada what that was about but from the look on her face, you're sure that you won't be getting any real answers soon. You could feel your heart sink, the person you thought you knew might be hiding a secret from you. Maybe not just a secret, maybe you don't really know who the real Bada is.

[never-enough-novels]

🧚‍♀️ iM a FaiRy ✨🌟🌸💮

Do it Grayson

Prompt: Reader's parents are fighting and they don't wanna be there so they ask Grayson if they can stay over.

Take your time, love

It's finally done bbg

A/n: im sorry if there are any mistakes in this. This was my first time writing anything like this 😭. I tried my best. Really hope you like this. It's also mostly very shit so I'm sorry beforehand

World limit: about 700 words

Tw: argument between parents, blaming yourself about it

Coffee and comfort

They're fighting again

On the same topic again

God I only wish they would just not shout so much. Or if they want to just not infront of me. Each accusation, each word spat to one another felt like it was my fault. I don’t even know why I think its my fault. The air itself was so thick it was suffocating. I tried sleeping it off but the shouting just went on and on and an like it was in my brain. I wanted to cry but couldn’t and it felt like a barb wire in my throat. As I lay on my bed, with the comfort of my favourite playlist playing in the background, the weight of the situation pressed down on me. Hands trembling I decided to call the one person I thought could provide me comfort right now: Grayson.

I reached for my phone, my fingers hesitantly hovering over his contact before pressing call. The phone rang briefly before his warm, familiar voice filled the line.

“Hey, love, everything okay?” Grayson’s voice was tinged with immediate concern.

Hearing his voice again tipped my emotions over the edge. I tried to cover my mouth and not cry so I don’t worry him any further; which obviously turns futile.

“Hamnah what happened? Talk to me love” he asked worriedly

“Can I please come over to your place? Theyre fighting again” I ask as quietly as I can without breaking down after hearing his voice

There was no hesitation on his end, just the comforting certainty of his reply. “Of course, come over. The house feels empty without you anyway.”

Disconnecting the call, I packed a few necessities into a bag, throwing in a book and my journal, knowing well that Grayson’s place was the only place where I could find peace enough to write. The drive over was quick, the familiar streets bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights leading me to his penthouse which was his safe place too.

As soon as he opened the door I was enveloped in a comforting hug which was the best thing in the world. We stayed in that position which felt like hours but could only have been a few minutes.

Grayson, cupping my face up gave me the most gentle kiss on lips and then asked “Are you ok Hamna? Wanna talk about it?”

Shaking my head I said, “I'd really rather not right now”

Nodding his head with a small comforting smile on his face he went into the kitchen while I situated myself on his bed; finally taking a deep breath and letting myself relax.

He comes back and hands me a glass of water and says “You know you’re always welcome here, right? This is as much your home as it is mine,” he said, his voice earnest.

I nodded, my heart swelling with gratitude. “I know, Gray. Thank you. It means everything to me.”

We spent the evening tucked away in his bedroom, watching movies that made us laugh and making me forget the harshness of reality of my home. Grayson held me close, his presence a shield against the outside world. It was moments like these that I was reminded of how much he meant to me,and how we came to be together and him being my boyfriend and safe space.

Later, while cuddling with his arm around my back and my head on chest, listening to heartbeats I decided to speak about what happened.

“I hate that you have to see this side of my life, I never wanted to show you this ” I confessed quietly, the darkness of the room and his presence making it easier for me to express my fears and feelings.

Grayson’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. “Hamna, we all have our battles. But you’re not alone in this, okay? I’m here for you, no matter what.” His words, feeling sincere and reassuring, helped the tightening around my cheat and throat.

“I love you, Gray,” I whispered, feeling his kiss on my forehead in response.

“I love you more,” he said back, a line so simple yet profound, promising unspoken vows of support and everything I could wish for.

As I drifted off to sleep, the echo of my parents’ shouting seemed like miles away. Here, in Grayson’s arms, I found more than just a temporary escape; I found a promise of hope and a reminder of his love for me.

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[xoxochb]

Hiiiiii I hope ur having a great day <3

I read your stuff on lit and omg i am obsessed (im actually unhealthily obsessed with that man its crazy ehem anywayyy) Can i request some cute fluff omg like hear me out here what if Lit wants to enroll in high school with reader. How would he react to modern student life and stuff and how would reader talk him through it. I'm unwell. tysm for reading this was a long ask sorry!

⋆·˚ ༘ * life is just a classroom

warnings: none

pairing: lityerses x mortal reader

you walk through the door, closing it behind you and then throwing your backpack onto the floor along with your shoes and jacket

you then make your to the kitchen, eager to get a snack to fulfill your hunger. you open the fridge and look around for something

strawberries will have to do…

you place the package of strawberries on the counter, leaving them for a moment to pour yourself a cup of coffee- you needed this after the long school day

you place the pot back in its spot and place your mug on the counter, but not before taking a sip of it. you then begin picking out strawberries, placing them in your bowl and once you had a reasonable amount you put them back in the fridge and take a bite out of a strawberry from your bowl

for a few moments you enjoy silence- until you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist

“when did you get home?”

you turn around and you’re met with your favorite boy

“lit! what did I saw about announcing your presence?” you hit him on the head

“do it”

“exactly”

you remove his hands and grab your bowl, making your way to the living room where you take a seat on the couch

“I was thinking of enrolling” he places his head on your shoulder

you open a notebook on your lap, beginning to write notes to study with, “enroll?”

“yeah… it gets lonely being home alone all the time” he says

you think for a second “are you sure you want to go to school though?”

“I want to have a normal teenage life” he replied

you close your notebook and move it to the side along with your pen, “this is what you want?”

he nods

“then I think you should do it” you smile

📜

a few days later he successfully enrolls himself into your high school, and he starts his first day two weeks after

the first week was rough, learning new things, meeting new people, tons of class work and homework

the second week was somewhat easier, but you managed to help him through it with comforting affirmations

the third and fourth weeks were definitely easier though, he caught up on most of the years work and made a few new friends

by the sixth week he was much better, work was easy, friends were great, and he had an amazing girlfriend to help him through it all

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 40

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Heart of the Scorpion by crystalklances

Lance has a big old crush on the school's Soccer Captain, Keith. He tries to deny having a crush even while their every interaction sends his heart aflutter. Romantic horoscopes and secret love letters? Totally not related to Keith. Luckily, heart and stars align to prove him wrong.

i will fucking miss crystalklances every single day of my life he was a PILLAR. i wish he had kept his account and just abaondoned it but im grateful at least that he only orphaned his fics and didnt delete it. he had so much to write about the college scene and soft klance and them being tender and soft and open about it!! he also often gave keith parents and he almost ALWAYS wrote trans lance like he invented the tag!! crystalklances i miss you and this was one of my favourite fics of yours

2. It's Not Spying If You Don't Call It Spying by @jilliancares

Turns out everyone is spying on Lance and Keith's blossoming relationship.

this is truly so goofy and silly and the team is SO so nosy and they need to be involved in 110% of klance's shit. as they deserve tbh. theyre all so annoying and i support all of their crimes

3. i wanna love you (but i don't know if i can) by @rickybowens

So, of course, that was when Hunk had said, "You know, it's really good that we're all friends here. I feel like it always gets awkward when two people in a group start dating, you know?" "Well, I don't think we have to worry about that with this group," Pidge had piped up, "I love you all, but there's no way in hell I'd date any of you." Everyone else had murmured their agreement, except for Lance and Keith, who had shared a look before trying to discreetly scoot away from the other. (Or, Lance and Keith decide to date in secret so their relationship doesn't make their teammates uncomfortable. It goes about as well as is to be expected.)

secret relationship you will ALWAYS be famous. its literally my favourite trope idc!! and this arc made SO much sense in terms of a reason for them to be dating in secret!! i loved how the team was the problem but that was very much not their intention but it made sense why klance was afraid and just...this whole fic was cinema truly i love it so so much

4. Of Pidge, Perception, and Prosecution by @erinnovelist

Of all the paladins, Lance knew Pidge was the one he had to watch out for. The only time her guard was down was after she woke up. She didn’t talk, glasses discarded after long hours staring at a screen, and she couldn’t function properly without her daily cup of coffee-equivalent alien juice. Which was why, when he wandered into the kitchen that morning, Lance hadn’t expected Pidge to zero in on him and ask, “When did you and Keith start fucking?”

teehee this one made me giggle its so ridiculous. and yes i did scroll thru the secret relationship tag again idc its so good!! i love the idea of klance thinking theyre so so sneaky and the whole time pidge is like yeah bitch ive been knew yall aint subtle in the slightest

5. Shifting Rock by @ohcontrary

Shiro is back with the team and things are... difficult, but getting easier. But even as he feels more and more like himself, he notices how his relationships have change. It's possible his relationship with Lance is changed irreparably. Luckily, the mission they go on gives them a chance to talk. But on a trip so perilous, they'll need to pay attention-- It isn't just their relationship that's on shaky ground.

lance and shiro NEEDED to talk fr. if ur gonna pretend the later seasons happened then they needed to CHAT. and what better place to chat then mortal peril and the threat of being crushed to death!! holy metaphors!!

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[vacantgodling]

thank you @sergeantnarwhalwrites for tagging me to do this i looooove talking about myself PFF. i’ll leave this as an open tag for anyone else who wants to do it! tag me if u do i wanna hear ur responses 👀

about me

When did you first start writing?

i’ve been writing pretty much my entire life—making stories since i was like 3 with my grandmother and then transitioned to writing them down pretty soon after. i can’t think of a time in my life where i wasn’t story crafting tbh. but i think if you want a “traditional” start time, wherein i started writing anything that could resemble a Proper wip, then that was when i was 12 in 8th grade lol.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

nah, they pretty much go hand in hand. i love reading gothic lit nowadays and a lot of my recent wips have sort of dove in that direction. in general, you can tell what was really intriguing me or what i was reading based on the wips i made at the time. vdtrt was super inspired when i was in my percy jackson era, purple haze (started) when i was into more comic/slapstick kid humor (like captain underpants or diary of a wimpy kid or that one journal book with the girl with the purple pen… i can’t remember what it’s called tho), but then transitioned into what it is now when i started getting more into romantic dramas. etc etc.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

not one that i’m often compared to, but the great gatsby did a number on me beginning to take prose and description seriously. that book is gorgeous to me (prose wise) and i really think between that and the goth/1700-1900s books that i’ve read really influenced me to put more emphasis on prose than on dialogue, tbh. i used to be a more snazzy, ya style writer—and while there’s nothing wrong with that per se it never sparked as much joy as me nailing an overly complex description does nowadays.

in terms of comparing myself or wanting to emulate someone specifically i don’t really. i think my friends are all amazing writers but i’m pretty self centered when it comes to my writing (both positive and negative connotations besides) so i tend to try and focus being the best version of myself and what i’m trying to write. this isn’t to say i don’t get jealous of how some of my friends write occasionally lol. i just don’t particularly want to be like them when the inner demons aren’t being shit, if that makes sense.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

tbh, a lot of times i write at work. i tend to finish my tasks early and no one tends to bother me so i kind of write to keep myself from falling asleep. i need silence and no distractions to write lol so its easier for me when im there. so its at my work desk and on my work laptop a lot of the time LMAO. when it’s not there i tend to write on my phone when im out and about or on the bus or whatever—same principles of wanting to be by myself and have no one bug me so i can think lol.

What's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

ngl, and this is gonna sound kinda bad, i kinda force myself to. lmao. like when i write at work esp i kinda just decide “what am i gonna work on today” and i sort of do it. it doesn’t always work mind you, like if i’m not in the mood or im tired or distracted or whatever then i’ll just end up doing something else.

when it comes to making new ideas i don’t force those, they just kinda come. i’m always thinking about stories and ideas tbh so it’s a matter of if i get obsessed with an idea enough to make it into an actual thing.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

nah with 2 caveats. purple haze specifically is a more fictional retelling (split between 2 mcs) of when i was 18-20 years old. lots of details changed but some of the main bits are shit that happened to me then that really fucked me up at the time that i wanted someplace to work through. as i’ve gotten older and healed from things, or taken to poetry to talk about stuff, emphasis on that wip has taken less precedent bc it doesn’t hurt me as much as it used to. secondly, the town braebrooke, where jenna lives in jenna the reaper is actually named after a street name that drivers always get lost going down near where i grew up. but i don’t tend to like to live in reality and real life. it sucks and it’s boring. stories have always been an escape for me so i don’t like to base things on real life if i can avoid it.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

honestly i would say yes, i have recurring themes in my writing but no they don't really surprise me. i tend to write about things that are important to me and because i'm quite introspective i'm acutely aware of the things that i tend to gravitate towards. fucked up/complicated family dynamics where people care about each other (toxically in many ways) but express it horribly, queerness (as a whole, especially when it comes to the masculine), focus on the individual instead of the whole (in most cases) etc... it's all things i think about quite often. stories are just the vehicles to explore it.

my characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

because i have so many wips it should be "hard" to sit down and say that this (or these) are my favorite characters. but from every single wip i definitely have a brain rot character, and so from my "main wips" the brain rot characters are:

PARAMOUR (tfog) -> hyacinthus shrapnel, obviously. if i had to pick a favorite character of all my ocs its definitely him. he just DOES SOMETHING for me he is literally every obsession i have rolled up into one beautiful, piece of shit.

TCOL -> this one is more difficult because i have a few contendors bc the cast is ENORMOUS and still growing, but clear brightendale will always be my number one frfr. love of my life. my SON. i birthed him, and i'm obsessed with him. he would be followed closely and tied with lath, guardian of valor as well as MIZDARR in terms of other faves tbh.

VDTRT -> darren de leon, also somewhat obviously. he's my favorite guy. what a lad.

BTAF -> sjaak de witte. the first time i truly understood the appeal of a pathetic wet meow meow character archetype because he is all of that and i'm obsessed with him.

Which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

conceptualizing being friends with my ocs is weird to me because i hate percieving myself, and i'm kinda weird about friendships. i think i would be actually genuine friends with either the friend group in vdtrt (consisting of: darren, olice, vlad, moonglend, gabe, demi, marco, and awilda) or the friend group in sixteen candles (consisting of: ranger, nanette, vani, roger, and tucker). but overall, i actually don't tend to make ocs with super similar interests to me a lot of the time and bc of the 'ism i have a hard time making friends?? so like take this with a grain of salt. i'd rather observe my ocs and play with them like dolls frfr.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

there are SEVERAL but if i go against the grain and i don't pick overt villainous characters (like tagetes, madja, silvano, etc)... probably the entire cast of btaf in some way or another tbh, like they just make decisions that while i (the creator) understand and think are fun in a "look at this shit" kind of way they would piss me off in a common sense kind of way. they are all dumb.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

characters kind of take a few basic routes for me. either: i like a preexisting character (or am fascinated by them cuz lbr i don't like twilight lmao) and i want to make 'my own version' in which i have control of them or i can amp up/explore other aspects of their personality with free reign bc they're mine now (ie: darren/percy jackson, sjaak/jacob from twilight, kirsi/magda from helix waltz, etc) OR i come up with a plot and i need a character to fill that plot so they start as a utility, then become their own character as i develop them more. (ie: jenna has a crush on someone in school, so i made chloe mathilders and now she has her own personality. the entirety of donut wip existed bc i wanted to make a horror wip and so they kind of came with the stereotypical horror archetypes; juls as the final girl etc).

it's actually not quite often that i have characters appear directly out of the aether for me to just have to deal with. jenna is honestly a rare exception to this because she is the ONE character i can think of who straight up manifested herself. i think that's why her power is manifestation bc she broke the grain of how i usually come up with ocs so. good on you girly lmao.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

yeah, i definitely have character types i gravitate towards, especially when it comes to characters who are my faves-though i do try my best to make it so all of my characters feel like distinct people, even though i do have 'archetypes' that i fall into with them. off the top of my head i can think of:

beautiful asshole (always masculine) -> hya, toph, dove, ranger, aenlin

masc femmes/adjacent that should break my neck -> nyseah, beki, piper, erecia, azelie, almine

"healing" characters, aka has never done anything wrong in their life ever -> aloe, karenza, vani, iole

resourceful underdog -> kirsi, julissa, darren, dagmar, nevaeh, chidori, noh, n

god just help them -> sjaak, di, clear, quill, prosper, hue, graves

i could go on but yeah like most of my characters can fall into some kind of archetype of some kind

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc)

honestly i don't have much of a visual imagination. the ocs that i can picture, i tend to draw out on my own characters so i picture them mostly in a more... stylized and what i wish i could draw version of my own art. otherwise i don't really picture them visually altogether. but this is mostly bc i can't visualize lmao.

my writing

What's your reason for writing?

i love stories, and i love story telling. there isn't really much beyond it. i've been doing it for so long, its literally just the fabric of who i am as a person. my literal first word was book lmao. like i just can't imagine existing without writing or storytelling in some form.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

honestly i'm greedy. i want to hear specific reactions and i love when people go into deep depth to react to what i've written and really take in every single detail and then kind of give me a play by play of how they felt and things they liked. it makes me want to write more to get that reaction <3

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who "gets" the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

um. idk if i want to be thought of in a particular way, but i guess i just want my stories to resonate with people. as long as they resonate and i can see how they do/the reaction people have to what i'm written then i'm happy. i think my stories should preceed me, if that makes sense. i don't necessarily need to be remembered for who i am but only for the stories i create. i guess?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

prose and description

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

pretty much the same thing. a lot of people tend to like my more poetic and winding prose which makes me happy lol. i've also been told i'm really good at depicting complex emotions.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

i love it, i think i'm talented asf. shame that the timeline and the state of the publishing industry won't let it be shown to more people but y'know. i would be lying if i said i didn't think that the only real talent i think i have is writing lol

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

YUUUUUP. writing is for me first and everyone else second. i like sharing bc i like validation, but i would be so hype to just be able to create stories on my own with zero interruption. tbh in that scenario i would probably make up so many stories that i would just die eventually bc i forgot to care for myself.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it's a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

if i wrote what others enjoyed, i would be publishable. i only write for my own interest.

[fallinallincurls]

🫶🏻 also, idk if you’re willing to do this and i understand but if you’d write a blurb w josty of him comforting his partner after losing a dog, id enjoy it bc im putting mine down this week and figuring out ways to cope :,) ily <3

emmie, i'm so sorry & sending so much love your way <3 i hope this makes you feel a little bit better

it's only been a few days, but the pain of losing your dog hasn't gotten any easier to handle. she was your best friend and had always made you smile no matter what. without her, your apartment is quieter and there's a huge gaping hole in your life that can't be filled.

tyson hated seeing you so upset and was there to say goodbye to her before offering his shoulder to cry on while supporting you in any way he possibly could. but one night when he was holding you in his arms as you slept soundly, he had an idea that he hoped would bring a smile to your face and ease some of the sadness about losing your dog.

so after practice today, he told you had had a few errands to run and he'd be home a little after lunch. with that, he got to work. after consulting both kacey, his mom and yours, the plan was set and admittedly, tyson has never been so nervous.

but when he gathered all the bags and headed up to your apartment, his worries disappeared. he knows he could've shown up empty handed and you still would be happy to see him because it lifts a weight off your shoulders. so this was just going to be a perfect surprise.

when he opens the door, he finds you reading on the couch like usual. you offer him a soft smile before getting up to greet him with a kiss. tyson's heart flutters for a moment until he notices the undeniable amount of sorrow in your pretty eyes.

"hi, babe." he murmurs, kissing your forehead which earns him another small smile.

"hi, tys. errands go well?" you ask, but then catch a glimpse of the unusually large amount of bags in his hands. "what in the world did you get?"

"your usual coffee order," he begins, handing you the coffee with a happy glint in his eyes, "everything i need to make your favorite dinner and dessert later, and this." tyson pauses, gently placing the grocery bags on the counter before presenting the white box shaped like a house.

"you went to build-a-bear?" the question is full of laughter and confusion, but tyson just nods in response.

"i did. open it." he encourages you. you meet his gaze and then carefully begin opening the cardboard box. you have no idea what he's up to, but you go along with it anyway out of curiosity and it's obvious that tyson put a lot of thought into this.

inside is a stuffed animal puppy with a heart shaped name tag around its neck that looks almost exactly like your dog. the name tag even has your dog's name on it.

"ohmygod, tys," you whisper, holding the stuffed puppy in your hands so delicately. tears immediately well up in your eyes and you don't waste any time giving him the tightest hug ever. "you didn't have to do this, but thank you so much."

"i'd do anything for you, baby. and i know how hard it's been without her so i thought this might help. but there's something else." he explains, voice thick with emotion as he holds you close and presses a kiss to the top of your head. he squeezes the stuffed puppy just slightly and the familiar bark of your dog fills the room which only makes the tears start to fall. "i asked your mom for a recording of her happy bark as you always called it. so you always have a piece of her."

you can't think of any words that would be enough to properly thank him so you just hug him again, mumbling "i love you's" into his chest. he's the kindest boy you've ever known and the fact that he loves you will forever be your biggest blessing.

[stormyoceans]

can i vent a little??? ever since ive started loving myself with a violent force and coming to terms with everything ive been through / started having more boundaries, ive lost so many friends... and im wondering how is it that you cope with the loneliness that comes with it? sending you so much love- someone who adores you and your thoughts 💗

hello, anon!!!!

first of all, i hope it's okay to say that im really proud of you for actively choosing to love and take care of yourself. for a lot of people (myself included) that doesn't always come easy, so i hope you know there's a lot of bravery in taking that first step, and in all the ones that come after it

as for your question, im actually not sure if im the best person to ask about loneliness, because that's something i struggle with a lot, so it does feel a little presumptuous to give advice on a matter im still looking for an answer to myself ;;;;;;;; that being said, i can definitely share my perspective and how i try to cope with it, hoping it can be of some help

so, i think the most important thing to keep in mind is that the loneliness is only temporary. there is always a dimension of loss to change, and every loss comes with an adjustment period: when you stop putting other people first in favor of setting boundaries and prioritizing your own needs, some of those people may not be able to accept it and walk out of your life, but as you work on these healthier patterns, you're also opening yourself up to new connections, which will eventually come to you. you just have to keep going and get through this in-between phase

that, of course, it’s easier said than done, especially since meaningful relationships do take some time to build, so there are personally two main things that (more or less) help me cope with loneliness:

changing my mindset and rediscovering the pleasure of my own company. i feel like a big part of both loving yourself and dealing with loneliness is to realize that you’re a pretty fucking awesome person to hang out with. sometimes we tend to focus so much on what we don’t have that we forget about what we do have, and i know maybe it sounds silly to say you have yourself, but that’s actually a lot. so, for example, in the past i would give up on going to watch a movie if i didn’t have anybody to go watch it with, but now i go by myself all the time and have a lot of fun too. it wasn’t easy at first, and sometimes it still takes me a lot of effort to shift the way i think about it (from ‘oh everyone else is here with someone while im here alone’ to ‘im here and im having fun by myself’), however i personally believe there’s a lot of joy to be found in being able to experience and enjoy stuff by yourself. im a very shy introverted person in rl, so it takes me a while to feel comfortable enough with someone to act silly in front of them, but if im alone i can dance around and sing off-key and scream at my screen while watching shows and fail at my culinary experiments without feeling self-conscious. you just have to try different things to see what makes you feel good, and be kind with yourself if it doesn’t always work out. it’s a process, and the more you do it the easier it becomes;

remembering that every connection counts, even the smaller ones, but they don’t come without some effort. in a way it’s true that it’s harder to make friends once you’re an adult and out of school, but i was honestly surprised to realize how many ways there are to connect with people, and how even more casual relationships can help chip away at the loneliness. your interests and your routine can help you a lot in this. going to the same grocery store and coffee shop regularly made me realize how after a while i could recognize the people there and they could recognize me in return. i threw some small talk at some of them (a couple of cashiers and the barista) and eventually we started to share and learn personal stuff about each other. sure, we’re not friends, but these small connections do help me a lot in feeling better about myself and closer to people as a whole. if i had the time, i would also love to join a book club or volunteer to an animal shelter, because those are things i already love to do that could also help me meet new people and become friends with them. tumblr, too, is a great place for that: im not the best at keeping in touch (;;;;;;), but talking about the shows i love on here helped me find a lot of wonderful people that make me feel less lonely, even if we’re not physically close. you just have to remember that all relationships are a matter of give and take, so you have to be open and willing to share some part of yourself (even just the things you like) with others to get the same thing in return.

aaaand after typing all of this out i realized this is probably just a lot of blabbering and it’s not helpful at all ;;;;;;;;; but yeah, unfortunately i don’t think i have many ‘tips’ to give outside of: do the things that you love by yourself, unabashedly, and try to find ways to share them with others, whether that’s just by making a post online or by joining a group about that specific thing. remember that feelings of loneliness often come and go during life, so just be kind to yourself and don’t give up, because there are a lot of people waiting for you out there

and for what is worth, im here too. if you feel lonely and need someone to talk to, or even if you just want to scream about the things that make you happy, i will always gladly listen!!!!!!

[februaryflowers]

red roses have thorns too

order up: jasmine coffee with lychee jellies and joshua for @strawberri-uyu !

an unrequited love wedding planner drama 

check out the (now closed) carat writers club summer fair event!

warnings: arguing + yelling, wedding talk, reader is pretty jealous and not healthily dealing with that for most of this (i’m not condoning this behavior! this is not a good way to deal with such emotions) and kissing (not involving reader)

drama and angst, 872 words, joshua x reader

a/n: im so sorry this is so late but i hope you enjoy 😭 and thank you to @adi--writes for making an appearance in this drabble :>

taglist: @noniemylove​ @seokmingiggles​

“I think the red roses are better,” you grit out, the words falling through your clamped jaw. 

“It looks tacky having them for literally everything!” Joshua exclaims, running a hand through his hair. “We both know the arch should be a different color, y/n.”

“It’s what the couple wants, Joshua,” you spit. Adjusting your pitch, you do your best to imitate his obnoxiously sweet voice, complete with mouthy hand motions. “‘What the couple says goes.’”

Bringing his hand to his forehead, he lets a long exhale through his nose. “Not when they’re gonna ruin their wedding photos with their stubbornness.”

“It’s their wedding, not yours!” 

“Obviously! What’s your problem, y/n!?” He yanks the chair out in front of him, plopping down and rubbing his eyes with his palms. “We used to be a team.”

You sigh, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. Well…he has a point. You can’t even remember how long it’s been since you and him got along. You used to even go out together after work to a bar or nearby restaurant to wind down from stressful plans and uptight couples. 

Before you were business partners, you were friends, great friends. That’s how this started, anyway. When did it all go wrong? 

But Joshua has been busy lately. After he finishes planning other people’s weddings, he returns home, only to plan another one, his wedding. And Adi is super cool. You’ve met all together before, and you can’t blame Joshua in the slightest for falling for them and proposing. 

Maybe you let your resentment towards the situation itself (never either individual of the couple) fester a little too much, impacting your job and relationship with your co-founder. It was just easier to pretend you didn’t get along to protect your cracking heart. Now that you think about it, maybe the hypothetical chalkboard that would display the “Days Without Arguing in the Office” countdown would show something resembling a large 90, a number similar to the amount of time that has passed since a couple weeks after Joshua told you about his engagement a few months ago.

Shaking his head, your co-owner stands, carefully glancing in your direction as he stands before placing his hands on the back of the chair. “Let’s just go home, y/n. We can talk about this tomorrow when we aren’t so angry.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he makes his way towards the door, grabbing his coat from the hook and sliding his arms through the sleeves. 

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways after this,” he murmurs. “Seeing as we can’t get along anymore.”

“Joshua—”

“Just think about it.”

Finishing off the conversation, he turns his back towards you without another word, watching the cars pass on the street outside your small shop slash office. 

You swallow as you stare at his frame, his shoulders tense and curved inward as he crosses his arms. The tapping of his foot against the wood planks joins the ensemble not long after. When was the last time you even finished work happily?  

And all too soon yet all too quickly, it’s over. Joshua will be leaving. He’ll definitely be leaving the store for the night. Maybe, he’ll even leave your life…for good.

Adi comes in. The bells above the door chime as they embrace, Joshua’s body instantly relaxing and softening at the presence, the touch, of the one he loves. 

He presses a kiss to their cheek before they cross arms behind the other’s back, shy smiles and hushed whispers exchanged as Joshua pushes open the door. But before they can step out, and maybe him from your life forever, Adi stops and turns around.

They smile at you, giving a small wave with the free hand that isn’t wrapped around their fiancé. “Have a nice night, y/n.”

With that, they step into the chilly winter evening, huddled together as they go about their daily walk home. And you know Adi was being genuine. They have been and still are nothing but kind to you whenever you see each other at the end of the workday. It makes you wonder if Joshua has said anything about your squabbles at home. 

Because, you can admit it, you have been absolutely stubborn and pissy. The two of them would and do have every right to be ticked off with you. But it doesn’t matter how this wedding turns out. It doesn’t matter what happens to the business you’ve built together. It doesn’t matter if you piss Joshua off or are perfectly best friends with him. Because, at the end of the day, you aren’t the one he’ll be going home with.  

A single tear drops from your eyes, at last. You have never cried over Joshua Hong, but there’s always a first for everything. They continue to fall as you stare out the window, seemingly unable to move before a loud gust of wind outside jumpstarts your brain again.

Finally making your way to the door, you flip the sign to display the large “Closed” with tomorrow’s hours to face the front of the glass. 

If you really love someone, you let them go. If there’s anyone you want to be happy, it’s him. And you know he is. 

So, today, you let Joshua go.

[dyketennant]

not to get sentimental about humanity or whatever but actually yeah there is good out there guys. i promise you i promise you there is so much good. look here is my list:

when i was a really little kid i cried after losing a carnival game (obviously i was 4 so i sucked at it) and the pre-teen age boy who won gave me his prize. i'm pretty sure i still have it somewhere 15+ years later.

one time i was crying on the train and the woman across from me gave me a snack from her bag; i tried to wish her a good day as she got off at her stop and was worried she didn't hear me, but the woman next to me reassured me she had without me ever asking.

when i had a meltdown at the hozier concert because my $40 t-shirt was stolen, someone behind me who was about my age gave me a fidget toy, and when i tried to return it they told me i could keep it (i still use it often, it's one of my favorites).

at the same concert, during the same meltdown when i was in the bathroom, the woman in the stall next to me asked me if i was okay and told me that things like that had happened to her, but that i still got to be there and (in her words) "see the guy" and it made things a little easier for me (i only ever saw her heels and her fingernails, but i later found out she was my dad's coworker, and she told him she was glad im doing better now).

in my freshman year of high school, i complimented a guy's overwatch shirt and we talked about it for a while before class started; years later he told me that it was the nicest anyone had ever been to him up until that point and that he still appreciated it—which shocked me, because he ended up being one of the most popular kids at school and is still good friends with a lot of my friend group.

when i was talking to my asl professor about why i was out of class for a few days (i was in the hospital for a few days following a suicide attempt) she hugged me and told me i was beautiful, and i still think about that professor nearly every day, and how she would always tell us about how much she loved her wife and their life together.

not long after that, my english professor reached out and wished me a happy thanksgiving because she knew i had been having a rough semester, even though she didn't have to and probably didn't do that for any other students (as far as i know).

when i was sorting through old papers i found years of hand drawn and painted birthday cards from one of my best friends, who made me one every year, and it made me realize how long they had been there for me during my worst.

i always start to feel dread when i leave for school, but one day, a girl accidentally got off the elevator on my floor, and then i proceeded to get off on a different wrong floor, and we both ended up in the same elevator and laughed about how we both made the same mistake, and wished each other a good day. it made my walk to the bus stop a bit easier.

at a writing conference, as part of a writing exercise, a woman told me a story about how she left her shitty ex boyfriend and had been single since, and i told her about how much i loved media analysis and symbolism; i wrote her a poem and she drew me a drawing. we never spoke again, but for a few minutes, it felt like we were old friends.

one of the bartenders at my old job loved our coconut macaroons, so i would save one for him so he could have it with his coffee. it was such a simple exchange, but it made me feel warm every time.

at that same job, i worked on my birthday, and once we were closed i asked the kitchen for any leftovers they had. they ended up making me an entire appetizer and singing happy birthday to me.

one time in the coffee stand drive thru, the guy taking my order got excited when he saw the pokemon on my dashboard, and pointed to his car across the parking lot with a gyrados in it. he then pulled a bracelet out of his pocket that said "cute" and said i could have it because of all my cute pokemon. later, i went again while wearing it and saw him, and his coworker said that he just loves making bracelets for people.

for whatever reason, a claw machine at a mall nearby had fraggle rock plushes inside; my friend and i spent forever trying to get some, but couldn't, and we both struggled to find good listings online. when i finally got my friend a mokey plush for christmas, they tackled me in a hug, and it's now one of my happiest memories (they then insisted on paying for my boober plush later on, so now we match).

and i am certain there are many many more instances i am forgetting. and i know things are fucking bleak now and always. and i know it's hard to see. but there is so much good. there is so much love. even from strangers. please believe me. life can be so full of love.

[aamethyst000]

Feeling more productive, everyday (May 6,24 - 7:19pm)

Ever since i bought this laptop, i have been noticing that i am a little more productive in the house hold. i'm getting up a lot more easier to do my chores (altough i'm still bitchy about it but i'm still doing said chores while being bitchy about it lmao), i actually drew something on my laptop! not to mention i am actually cooking dinner on time......ish. its still better than starting at 9pm to finally cook dinner. Anyway, my litlle brother and i are going tp head up to the store in a bit to grab some ingredients and snacks for tonight. i am making meat loaf and rice tonight!~ I do want to mention, that i am still struggling with my sleep schedule, going to bed at 4-5 in the morning, then getting up at 2-3 the next day, rinse and repeat. i dont know how i'm still functioning right now. At the moment, i'm running on 2 cups of coffee and one meal, i call that a win in my book. I'm still debating on whether or not i really want to buy the boox palma when i can do the exact same thing on my phone, just with a different screen and no texting. The boox palma runs on android, thank god. I think that why i want it so much, is to have a seperate device to read on. now that i have a different device to write my journals in.

8:17pm - my little brother and i just got home from the store, now i am going to start cooking our dinner tonight and watch some shera on netflix! then i think im going to play conkers bad fur day after supper <3

9:37pm - Dinner is almost done and i washed a few plate n forks that we need, now i am just watching shera while dinner is cooking. i'm on my third cup of coffee and i have been yelled at by my uncles cat ever since i came back from the store, poor thing lmao he just wants my attention. only in my room though, it doesnt seem to be the same im im in the kitchen or in the living room. it doesnt make sense to me but it does to the kitty, so i try not to fight with him, its hard to do so when i have stuff to do throughout the day. My kitty was the same way ysterday, all clingy and shit, not that i minded, i really love it when they are like that. it cheers me up.

honestly though, this feels so much better writing my journals here than on paper. at least this way, my laptop has a passowrd that no one in the house can get into. though it kind of sucks that it is a requirement to change my password every few months. why they even set it up like that is beyond me. i wonder what it'll be like if and when i actually go to a cafe and type out my journal entries there. its noce to imagine, but at the same time, the crowd would overwhelm me lmao then again, it's something i should get used to if i want to go back to work again. i just wish that the places i work at dont fckn ghost me, if and when they decide to let me go. that would be nice fir once. especially if i did something wrong to be let go like that. like, why are they even allowed to do that? but when the employees do that, just up and leave the work place or quit on the spot, we get go on the list of "do not hire"? kind of stupid isnt it?

i think im about to go on a rant in a sec, so i'm going to do something else, see if i still feel the same way about it later on. if i do, i'll talk about it here lol

9:56pm - now that i got that out of my system, i still feel the same way, i just dont feel the need to rant about it. i think ill just sit on this feeling and think about it. considering that there is nothing that i can personally do, to change said circumstances. anyway, change of subject, im finally listening to audio books now! since it got onto spotify, ive been taking advantage of it and i am so happy that i am! i think thats part of the reason why i have been feeling a little motivated today. i think im starting to love audio books now, im thinking of dowloading the app later on, or as soon as i can get a stable and steady job again, cause this is getting ridiculous, even for me.if i was living on my own, id either be on the streets or back to living with my mother again. reality sucks but oh well, what can i do other than look for another job. the village sucks for job hunting, especially if its just the canery, brighter feature, and assistant teacher. 2 of those i do not like because it involvles interacting with kids, which i am not used of. the other involves 12-14 hours of just standing there or stacking. not a lot of choices for me to choose from, thats for sure. i used to work at the clinic but they havent called me back in nearly a year. same with the school, after the pandemic started, i was never called back. hence why i wanted to rant about the whole " work places just up and ghost you" bullshit. stuff like that really annoy me so much. which is why i am so worried about moving, what if pg does the same? i look for a job for months, never get hired, be expected to pay rent each month i am unepmloyed AND buy myself groceries. not to mention the transportation, the area id live in and if every single one of them just fucking ignore me. since ive been planning this with my best friend, i told her about wanting to save up enough to pay 3 to 4 months of rent, have enough for groceries, and a few furniture if we find a place that needs it. she took note of it after i told her my olfer brothers experience and mine. it can be really stressful when no one hires you. it really makes you think if any of that, is because of whats on your resume, or what i say in most of my interviews, i dont even feel comfortable lying to them, just so i can get the bloody job and start making and saving money. like ive been planning for so many years. i just wish that adulting is so much easier. but that would be too much to ask of our prime minister. selfsih piece of shit. Anyway, dinner is nearly done cooking so i am going to go back to watching shera and enjoy our late dinner, again. i like that i started typing a lot more here than i did on my phone. i love it, i almost dont want to stop, almost.

12:07am - we have just finished having our supper and MY G O D was supper ever so yummy~ i couldnt finish my plate so i think im going to give the rest to my little brother, but at the same time. i want to keep it for myself for when i get hunry for it again. i think im going to go bath tonight and then set up my trans tape for tomorrow. ill be buying more i think next week wen i have more money in my bank. which, btw, i need to go down to the band office and take out cash again. cause honestly, i want to stop myself from spending so much money in one go. i want to get better at that, i will acknowledge, though, that i have been doing really well on not spending so much. i managed to save more than enough after the rupert trip with my littlw brother. im really proud of that <3

12:36am - i am going to get ready for a bath now, had my 4th (forth) cup of coffee and 0 (zero) cups of water. i gotta catch up on that one. i used to be able to keep up with my water intake. well, except for when i was a teen, i hated the taste of plain water, so i remember avoiding drinking water unless absolutley necessary, which, at the time, was kind of rare for me to do. i was drinking one to two cups of water every other day. i was an absolutely stubborn child, i hated being wrong lmao i still kind of do, actually. im just not as stubborn as i was before, at least not to the point where im putting my health on the line. so yeah, i guess i still hate being wrong most times lmao

should i bring this up in my therapy appointment? i think i should. or rather, i feel like i should, but i dont want to. i just want to make the appointment again, and just fckn rant my therapist ear right out. maybe ill feel better afterwards and be better on my own time schedule management with my friends and family. i was so afraid to become that adult who is almost never home, drinking and doing ddrugs a lot, to the point where someone may take advantage of me at my lowest. however that may look. that i stayed home way more than a normal person considers "normal". i dont know how else to put it. i just know that my best friend is very sick of it and so am i. im 25 going to be turning 26 this year and i should and want to act like it for once in my life. i know that, physically, im no longer a teenager anymoe but in my brain, im jumping from 14, 16,17 and18 all in one go it seems. but i think ill save this topic for another time. kekekekekekeke

good night, readers! <3

[cpunkwitch]

Describing the feeling - anemia

being descriptive about what its like standing up and generally functioning with my severe anemic body.

i dont just stand up too quickly and lose my balance for a second, i dont just stand up and immediately sit down because the room started spinning.

when i stand up my vision goes hazy around the edges, a black vector around my vision creeps in, my VSS makes my vision look even more like a 1980's video recording, my head gets fuzzy and light, my vision shrinks to a small spot as the rest is blocked out by the dark, my body threatens to black out, drop passed out right where i am. i get nauseous and exhausted like i just saw something that grossed me out so bad it made me sick, i go pale and my face gets hot at the same time.

it only lasts a few minutes maybe, but its still scary and slows me down. i can pass out without even realizing it sometimes, without this kind of warning. i'll feel sick and pass out or i'll be fine and still suddenly wake up in a new position or entirely different room and someone will tell me they moved me.

my energy is constantly drained, leaving me breathless at even the most minimal of movements like a short flight of stars or just getting out of bed. all i can manage leaving the house is a brisk walk without my cane. i feel like i had taken a 5 hour hike when its still only 11am and im just getting over starting my day.

im always too tired to do many tasks, go places, i find myself taking a nap if it werent for coffee.

this would of course happen less if i was able to take my supplements more often, if i could eat enough food containing the needed iron more regularly/consistently. but theres complications with that too.

i get constant pounding headaches for several reasons and on days where my anemia literally makes me bedridden i am often laying there waiting on the medication i was able to take to finally kick in and calm the raging ache burning and rattling inside my head.

anemia is not just standing up and feeling dizzy or falling over, its chronic fatigue placing a hand on your shoulder, shaking you around and putting a white noise filter over your eyes before pushing you down to let you catch your breath. its feeling like a vampire stole half your entire body's amount of blood without even touching you. its being even more tired and slowed down after a nurse takes your blood more than you usually are and more than most people are for a longer amount of time, sitting there for almost 5 minutes or so with an orange juice box in your hand before you can get yourself to stand up and leave her office.

i originally got my cane to help with the dizzy spells and constant unbalance and exhaustion i felt, to help me walk up and down stairs easier and keep me from walking to fast and steady my pace more. then i realized how bad my back was and noticed how lessened my back pain was with it and i was even happier to have gotten my cane.

every day i think about how all my life i've missed out because ive been too tired to do something or go somewhere. every day i fear falling over, collapsing and passing out and it happens too frequently for me to say im okay any day.

i miss the days i used to have energy when i was much younger, i miss the days i didnt have to fear falling over, i miss the times i was able to do more with my body.

doesnt mean i live in constant misery, im just learning to live with it. this is my life, its a constant battle and struggle, but i make do, i push myself as far as my body lets me without letting myself overdo it too much.

knowing this, you can probably imagine how scared i often am about summer. i get uneasy and close to passing out if i just take a shower with the water too hot, the heat of summer does so much worse.

in summer my vision goes white, no matter how much water i drink the world goes brighter and brighter, i nearly passed out on the road once. i get heat stroke fairly often, even wearing light clothing and having a cold cloth on the back of my neck isnt enough at times. in summer im like a dried up plant, dehydrated and overheated, somehow hanging on while looking and feeling like im one step through death's door.

anemia's a dick guys, i never realized how serious it was for me when i first got diagnosed, but i learned. the hard way unfortunately, but i learned about it nonetheless.

[ID: banner reading "This blog is protected by De Rolo family and co." in all caps. It has an orange cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms and on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina]

[bambiparts444]

day 2 of being back from winter break. he keeps locking eyes with me. its wild. when I lock eyes with him, I tell myself that in order for that to happen, he would need to be looking at me in the first place.

i have early release during 4th period this semester, so if I have to stay after school for extracurriculars, I sometimes stay in his classroom. today, I didn't, since I was working with another one of my teachers on ap calc stuff. she had to leave to cover a class, so I was by myself working in the library. i thought maybe I should to see him, but I didn't want to seem strange.

i heard the library door open and i turned around. it was him. he smiled at me, and I waved. I'm not exactly sure why he came. the librarian wasn't here today, so you'd think hed just go back to his classroom. it didn't seem like he had any business to do in the library.

he came to chat with me about crime and punishment (the book, you naughty reader), and then he sat down at a table in my line of sight to sip coffee and read whatever book he was reading.

i couldn't help but notice how much I was stumbling over my own words, and tripping over my own feet. I'm never like that, but his mere presence turns me into a different person. i don't know. i find myself more demure around him. maybe I just have been that way lately.

i havent really been talking much to other people, ever since the incident happened with my two (ex) best friends. one texted in the group chat asking if we are just never going to talk again. i saw it but didn't respond. the other asked me this morning if I had seen the text. i said that I hadn't, and then pretended to check my phone. i said nothing more.

i want him to know me. i like him, and even if he doesn't romantically like me, I would at least want to build a school-appropriate relationship with him where we discuss academic topics. i at least want him to know that I'm not just some silly girl, who doesn't talk to anyone, who gets nervous and embarrassingly clumsy talking to him.

im overthinking it all. of course, i know I am. but, the i have the feeling of wondering if maybe he did notice how nervous i am around him. i wonder if he has picked up on my liking towards him. if he did, and he wasn't receptive, then he wouldn't be stopping to stay in the library after seeing that i was there. and he certainly wouldn't be sitting in my line of sight, looking up at me every so often.

i'll ask to stay in his classroom again tomorrow if I don't second-guess myself. this would all be so easier if he initiated conversations with me. if he just invited me to stay with him. if he just decided that he loved me right there and made a move on me. i wouldn't stop him.

[saccharinemeat]

D , K , L , S , T , W , Z . good monin .... looks at you respectfully kissin ... hi ..... hello . hey

Answerin' this so latey but still! myah myah

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

Depends on fandom,but from iii, clover/nickel and candle/silver spoon. which i know you do like but i just cant help but be annoyed by em sometimes. particularly the latter cuz yknow. f/o.

non object and unrelated to shared fandoms, definitely Jonmartin. I know they're canon i know wah wah the dinghy I DONT FUCKING CARE. martin is a little bitch to Jon during the eyepocalypse and idk. idk he gets on my nerves. JonMichael forever actually. (And i like martin with peter lukas. toxic gilf win.)

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Depends on the fandom, object wise i wanna say Balloon (especially in iii), and while i also love Flowers arc i feel she got a bit watered down at the end of bfb. Quite curious to know where Robot Flower's is going though. Non object fandom, I wanna say Riko from made in abyss has some amazing development,and in general the arc around Vueroeruko and Irumyuu was fucking insane. Sobbing immediately and violently.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

Ugh. Candle is not a bitch and im mostly just uncomfortable with how close she is with silver and her chill attitude is Annoying to a certain degree. Cabby is Fine in the very late episodes and her friendship with yinyang is Nice. Non object related, uhh. uhhhh. idk i dont have any MAJOR hatred i think. or if i do it's so bad i Deleted them from my brain lmao.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon

Oh there's so many, I'll try to stay away from my super edgy ones You Know,but let's see. object specific, here's a handful,will just do objects here cuz easier:

test tube is a coffee nerd. She loves all the borderline sciencey work to pull a single shot of espresso. and she WILL get annoying about it if not stopped

Baseball and Cheesy both have braces

Knife is a big fan of kawaii shit and loves the color pink. After the dora incident he's less shy about having one or two little keychains or plushies.

Tree likes to smoke and is in his late 30s. I will Not elaborate,i just know I'm Correct.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

some headcanons ill die defending are mostly darker ones,honestly. but i guess heres some misc. ones from multiple fandoms

- Julian (The Arcana) has BPD and i will never back off from that

- Kenny (south park) sometimes is cis and sometimes isn't,depending how his body regenerated after the latest death

- Yin and Yang (inanimate insanity) have an extremely codependent fucked up relationship

- Rick (Rick & Morty) is bilingual and can speak spanish perfectly. Yes i know this is basically canon but goddamn if the show NEVER brings it up. Im salty about this.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Any fucking barista/florist/whatever the fuck AU. you people are boring,jesus. And poorly done Enemies to Lovers (ENEMIES ARE EQUALS) or Bully/Victim ships portrayed as good (toxic dynamics can stay tho)

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go!

Bro I'm tired,, but i wanna talk about fandom in general and how fucking annoying it is that people are always going for wholesome and pure and fluffy and like. yes that's fine and all but i miss when fandom was owned by the freaks. I feel like even the concept of fandom has gone far FAR too mainstream and it's annoying as all hell. It's difficult to not want to just live in a little corner. Also people treat writers and artists like fucking. content machines and it sucks so much. people used to establish friendships over this but now even requests are BARELY polite. Bleh. Also bring the kinkmeme livejournals back