#can you tell i'm a bit snappy today

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

the statements “catra was an extremely traumatized person who craved love and validation from her abusive mother and used unhealthy coping mechanisms because she wasn't taught how to deal with her own trauma” and “catra abused and tortured everyone around her and committed war crimes with no hesitation, and she did not deserve to be forgiven so easily” can and should coexist.

[salbei-141]

Daddy Issues (John Price x Reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, comfort, suggestive themes, daddy issues, confession, praise, etc.

a/n: I have exams, but this obviously takes priority (if y'all are doing exams, go revise loves, don't be silly and procrastinate like me, I believe in y'all more than I do me)

I can't lie I may be tempted to write a smutty part 2 to this I dunno...Price is a DILF and I know me and you both got daddy issues - I'm writing Captain Price fanfic after all, and you're consuming it, so I feel like part 2 is may be necessary...

Code name: Scarlet

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had missed 48% of your shots today, which was well below your usual average accuracy score. You felt yourself getting frustrated knowing you were better than this - you were a good soldier, you had made it to Task Force 141 all by yourself despite the setbacks.

Reloading your pistol, you moved yourself into the correct position and breathed in deeply, then pulled the trigger. You watched as it hit the outermost line on the target. What was with you today? You stood in silence staring at the target feeling dread crawling up your spine - maybe you weren't as good of a soldier as you'd believed you were. You felt yourself remembering the harsh words of your father reminding you that you were just a useless little girl.

Huffing to yourself, you slammed the gun down in front of you, rubbing your hands over your face, feeling that stinging in your throat. Were you really about to start crying? "Get a fucking grip", you muttered to yourself.

That's when you heard the familiar heavy footsteps of your captain. And before you knew it, his voice was coming from behind you, making you shiver lightly with its deep rumble, "You'll have some catching up to do Scarlet - Gaz and Soap are way ahead of you".

You don't know what it was, but the blatant disappointment in his voice had you wanting to hide away and sob - you were supposed to be his best soldier. The frustration and upset overwhelmed your senses, and you turned to face Price with a stoic expression and snappy tone, "Look can you just fuck off? You think you're making this any easier by standing there and breathing down my neck telling me I'm not good enough?".

He looked surprised - you had never snapped at him like this before, especially in front of other soldiers. He then knitted his brows together, staring deeply into your eyes with a blank expression that felt like the calm before the storm and spoke with a low tone, "Get in my office y/n." He watched as your eyebrows furrowed further and your eyes grew darker, as you went to open your mouth and assumedly defy his order, "Now y/n", you shut your mouth instantly and walked to his office as he towed behind while there was a gentle echo of whispers behind you.

As you opened the door to the office you walked into the centre of the room staring outside the window overlooking the premises. You refused to take a seat - it was defiant, but you also didn't want to get comfortable, you knew you'd fucked up royally.

The fire in you just 5 minutes ago had dwindled - you weren't aggressive to your peers, let alone your superior. But you bit at him - you weren't an aggressive person, just overwhelmed - you hadn't meant it.

You stood rigid and on edge - unsure how Price was going to respond to you. You watched as he rounded you, opting to stand tall in front of you, instead of sitting at his desk as you had hoped for.

"Want to explain what the fuck that was?" He stared down at you with piercing eyes that you were struggling to hold your gaze with his, his voice was gruff and stern.

The fire had dwindled in you completely, and you didn't know what to do or how to respond. You stared up at him looking lost - completely bewildered by your own actions, "I'm...sorry"

He watched as your eyes glazed over, he hadn't expected this when you were raising your voice at him mere moments before.

"What?", his brows furrowed confused by your sudden shedding of tears. You weren't an overly emotional individual and he'd never seen you shed tears during some of your most harrowing missions together.

You looked up at him ashamed - feeling like that useless little girl your father had said you always were, "I said I'm sorry John".

The use of his first name changed everything - it felt informal - he felt like he needed to comfort you as a friend, not as your superior.

"Come here y/n", he beckoned you into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around him and softly cry into his chest. He gently ran his fingers through your hair - unsure of what you needed from him right now, but the calming of your breaths reassured him that he was doing enough.

"What’s wrong?”, he pulled back slightly to see your face - your cheeks had flushed red and your eyes remained glossy with tears.

You shift your eyes around him, trying to avoid his gaze and his question. However, you feel as he gently lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his as he waited for an answer.

“I’m just…overwhelmed”, he raised a brow at this - it was obvious that there was more going on.

“Can you tell me why?”, he sounded so gentle - he genuinely wanted to know - he cared.

You continue holding his gaze feeling the newly familiar burn in your throat as you tried to keep your tears at bay - not that it worked as you felt a few escape and trail down your cheeks again, being caught by John's thumb as he wiped them away.

“Do I disappoint you, John?”

"What?", he looked confused - you were probably his most hard-working soldier - getting this far wasn't easy, and it certainly wouldn't have happened if you were a disappointment.

“Do you ever think that I was a poor choice for 141?”, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing - he’d never doubted your abilities since the day he saw your first induction day to the SAS.

"Not at all love, why?"

"You said that I was falling behind...and my father used to tell me if I wasn't the best then I was just another person wasting everyone's time pretending to be something I wasn't, so I should just give up", you held your breath - never having admitted that.

He held your face gently, "Your father's a fucking idiot then love", you chuckled softly and he smiled seeing this - you weren't the same little girl your father would relentlessly put down; if your 10-year-old self could see you know, she'd be so proud of you, you knew that. John was right - your father was a fucking idiot.

"I couldn't be prouder to have you as a member of 141...but you're more than just a soldier love - I think the only time you've disappointed me was the day you got shit-faced with Johnny after your birthday last year"

You stared at him confused, absentmindedly placing your hands over his wrist that held your face, "Why?"

His tone changed - you'd never heard it come from him, "Because I had planned to ask you out -and finally taste those lips of yours"

Your cheeks felt hot as you blushed, shocked by his confession, "Why haven't you said anything?"

He leaned slightly closer to you, smelling the perfume that clung to your skin, "Lost the courage like the idiot I was"

You smile at him, your eyes having dried from the previous tears, "Well don't be an idiot again".

He chuckled lowly, "Don't plan on it love".

He pulled you closer to him, leaning down to meet your lips, kissing you softly, tasting the salt that lingered on your lips. He felt as you gently nipped his lip, feeling the way you smiled into him. He gently pushed you up against his desk, intensifying the kiss, as you both started to feel hotter, your senses overwhelmed by your captain as you felt his body pressed against yours. You gently pushed at his chest, making him pull away and look down at you - your pupils were blown, making him smirk.

"Take me on a date first?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and spoke lowly, "Of course love - as much I want to fuck you against my desk right now, I think I'd rather take you out first and fuck you in my bed, hm?"

You blushed hard at him, "Maybe you'll get to fuck me against your desk another time"

"I hope so love", he smirked stepping away and holding his hand out to you, "Best get back out there before someone comes to check on you thinking I've lost it on you, huh?"

You smiled at him stepping around him to leave, "Good girl", you stopped in your tracks, ready to turn back around.

"Didn't tell you to stop", you sighed as you heard his low laugh as you left his office to go back to your target - everything before being forgotten as your Captain preoccupied your mind for the rest of the day.

[barcaatthemoon]

red || jenni hermoso x reader ||

you ask jenni to stop.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

it's not really smutty, but still.

jenni's hands were gripping your hips so tightly that you swore you could feel the bruises forming already. she had been rough with you all day, starting before the two of you had even gotten out of bed. then, it had been more of a playful rough housing. now, she was thrusting her hips into you as hard as she could to make sure that you could feel every inch of her.

it wasn't what you had expected whenever she had taken you back to the bedroom. you were no stranger to jenni's moods, but she wasn't usually this rough for no reason. jenni wasn't jealous, nobody had been around either one of you today. it had been a bit of a lazy day, with the exception of jenni trying to annoy you throughout the afternoon. if anything, you should have been the one to be a bit aggressive in bed.

and in a way, you had been. you had held jenni's head down in between your legs earlier. that wasn't enough to warrant jenni fucking you like this though. it was fairly indulgent, and usually, you'd be fine with that, but it didn't feel right.

"jenni, red. i'm red," you whined. it was quiet, just barely a whisper. you hated interrupting jenni whenever she was focused, but you couldn't take any more. a part of you had said it so quietly that you thought she wouldn't hear you, but jenni was pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back as quickly as she could.

"what's wrong?" jenni asked immediately. her eyes were wide with fear, and you immediately were engulfed in guilt. you hated making jenni feel bad, especially whenever you didn't even know what was wrong. "did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's not that," you reassured her. jenni looked absolutely distraught as she mentally combed over every little thing she had done that day. you had been a bit snappy with her before dinner, but that wouldn't have caused this. jenni had apologized to you long before the two of you made your way back here.

"is there anything that i can get or do for you?" jenni asked you. she was gentle as she reached towards you. you let her hand come to rest on your arm. slowly, jenni began to pull you into her arms. you hummed happily at the feeling of her holding you. it was soft and nice in all the ways that you realized that you had been craving jenni.

"i'm sorry," you apologized. jenni pulled back a bit. there was a puzzled look on her face. her eyebrows were furrowed deeply as she pouted a little. it was something you usually would have teased her about, rubbing out the furrow as you joked about wrinkles. tonight, you didn't feel like joking, instead going straight for clarity. "i stopped us. i don't think i can keep going. i'm sorry, jenni."

"you have nothing to apologize for, my vida. i'm sorry for not paying better attention to you, okay?" jenni pulled back just enough to force you to look at her.

"but you wanted this. it's been so long," you whispered.

"you tell me to stop, and we stop. i don't care what's happening. all i care about is you. do you understand me?" jenni asked you. you nodded, having completely understood her words. whether or not you took them to heart was a completely different thing. "i need to hear you say it and mean it."

"you care about me. if i need to stop, it's okay to tell you. you won't be mad, because you care." it wasn't word for word, which jenni appreciated. the two of you had been working on properly communicating needs, something that jenni felt was testing her patience. she didn't understand how someone so lovely and caring could be so unkind to themselves.

"thank you. i love you," jenni muttered against your forehead as she pressed a kiss to it.

"i love you too," you told her. jenni was absolutely beaming at your words, and you didn't have to see her to know. the way that she shook you a little as she hugged you told you everything that you needed to know. "what now?"

"that, my dear, is up to you. what would you like to happen?" jenni asked you. you thought a lot about it before deciding on just laying back with her. jenni got out of bed and grabbed some clothes for the two of you. she fished through her side of the closet for a sweatshirt for you to sleep in, along with the softest pair of underwear that jenni could find. you happily accepted the boxer briefs, not commenting on jenni only grabbing a sports bra for herself.

"can you hold me please?" you knew not to be nervous, but it wasn't easy for you to ask for things. jenni smiled as she climbed into bed with you, clad in a black sports bra and a pair of grey joggers. you were pretty sure that the pants were yours since they were both a little loose and too short on jenni.

"of course. i'll always hold you. you don't even have to ask." jenni pressed a kiss to the top of your head as the two of you positioned yourselves comfortably. you laid with your head on jenni's chest and your leg thrown over her body. she was completely trapped between the bed and your body, covered by the comforter, just how she liked it. "good night, mi amor."

"night jenni," you hummed happily.

[bonny-kookoo]

bonnyyyyy +1 chance!couple were so cute omg does kook win in the tournament? i feel like he'll immediately take oc out on a date to celebrate if he does, gotta flaunt his feathers while he has the chance cuz she also plays the same game

"I'm sorry it's just in the hotel room-" Jungkook fumbles with his words as he lets you inside, hair having just dried from the quick shower he took after his tournament.

He'd won, and he'd expected that, honestly- he'd been well prepared after all, and his teammates were just as good at the game, leading to a relatively easy win. Still, he knows this game will stay in his mind as the hardest he's ever fought- because he'd been sweating buckets, knowing you're somewhere in the crowd, watching him play.

That's one of the main reasons he had to shower before meeting up with you. God knows his shirt was soaking afterwards.

"No problem- you know I could've waited too, it didn't.. have to be today." You reassure him, but he shakes his head, and leads you to the small table in his rather spacious hotel room, windows to the balcony opened, fluttering the see-through curtains a bit.

"No, I wanted to see you right away." He says, and it's clear from the way he licks his lips and plays with his piercings that he's nervous. "Do you..- the menu is on the table there, for room service I mean. We can order something and chat if you like." He offers, and you nod, taking the menu for yourself to read through it.

God, you became even prettier over the years, he realizes. He himself has been trying to take good care of himself, but the constant attack of the blue light from the screens and his honestly surprisingly stressful life sometimes does take a toll on him- his skin currently not the best, and it's making him nervous.

If you both do end up liking each other, and wanting more, will you be able to handle it all? The constant flying around, the constant practice, the hours and hours and hours he has to spend trying to perfect what he already can do- can you handle that? His cranky attitude whenever he fails? His sometimes snappy answers whenever he's irritated about failing at a basic mechanic ingame? His obsession with perfection?

He's not an easy guy. Relationships have constantly failed because of this tricky cocktail of his job and his personality.

"You almost lost the lane, in the first half." You suddenly chirp up, watching him walk towards the table now, sitting down across from you. "They really had you in a chokehold for a little." You giggle, and he nods, smiling to himself.

"They did." He answers.

"But you really gained a lot of momentum during the endgame." You say, resting your cheek in your palm, elbow on the table. "They had no chance."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He chuckles, realizing that you really do seem to know the game quite well, with the way you speak of his performance. It makes him a little giddy.

His past girlfriends didn't game very much. Or if at all, all just very laid back simulation games. Maybe your shared interest could help you both connect better?

"It definitely is." You giggle. "I might pick up some of your odd item choices to make my own games better." You tease, and he dramatically gasps at that, taking the room service menu from you to look at it himself.

"Excuse me, my choices aren't odd. They're very much calculated." He shakes his head playfully, before he looks at you again. "What do you eat?" He wonders, and you pull down the menu he's still holding, to lean closer and tap on the things you want. But when you look up, you realize he's not looking at where you're pointing at all- but instead, his eyes are entirely glued to you, being just a little closer to him than before.

"You're not even looking." You accuse him, but he instead licks his lips, and leans back, trying to appear confident.

"Well, that's a tough thing to do when you're in my face like that." He tells you. "Can't help but look at you instead."

"Huh, I'll lean back and give you space then." You say, suddenly laughing to yourself when you realize that despite all this time having passed, you both really just fell right back into place, as if your friendship never really ended at all. You just feel so comfortable with him despite his physical appearance having clearly matured and changed, it's a little odd.

"What're you laughing about?" He wonders, visibly happy however that you're happy, no matter why.

"Nothing." You shrug. "Just.. Happy. To have run into you again, I mean." You admit, and he grins at that.

"I.. yeah, I feel the same." He nods.

"Do you think.. we could be friends again?" You wonder, and he shrugs.

"I'm not sure." He tells you, taking in a deep breath before he shoots his shot. "What.. if I want to be more?" He suggests, and you look at him for a moment, before you lean back into your seat, tilting your head to the side in thought.

"I guess..." You say, before your eyes meet his again. "You think we could work out as a team?" You wonder-

and he instantly gets what you're trying to say, bright grin spreading on his face, as his heart beats faster than ever before.

[steddieas-shegoes]

116. “you wrote me a song?” any rating! 💕💕💕

I really thought you'd go with something so obviously smutty just based off of you breaking my brain so often, but this is such a soft prompt. I made it sweet and also a little smutty (barely) 💖

Rated M | tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, making out, light frottage, fade to black sex

🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶🎶

Eddie being holed up in his music room for hours is normal.

That's what Steve's telling himself, at least.

But ever since the boys had been back from their tour, Eddie had been...weird.

It wasn't necessarily bad, at least not at first, but the last few days had seen Eddie being unusually quiet and withdrawn, his mind clearly elsewhere while they ate breakfast together before he disappeared for most of the day. He would appear again by dinner, usually tired, and always a bit snappy, like he didn't want to be around anyone.

Steve recognized it, but didn't quite place it until today.

He was working on a song.

Eddie was like this the last time a song wouldn't translate from his head to the instruments or the paper.

It didn't make it easier to deal with feeling so alone in their home, especially not when he'd spent a lot of the last four months alone while he was on tour.

"That's it," he said to himself as he stood up from the couch.

He walked to Eddie's music room and knocked on the door, three knocks, pause, two knocks, just like always.

Their version of 'I'm checking on you, I'm worried, let me in.'

Eddie opened the door, dark circles under his eyes.

"Break time," Steve said, grabbing Eddie's hand and pulling him from the room, ignoring the sputtering protests.

"Stevie, no. I gotta-"

"No you don't. You can come with me for a bit."

"No. You don't understand, I-"

"No, you don't understand." Steve stopped and turned to look at him, hands on his hips. "I've been mostly alone for months and I thought having you back would mean I have you back. But you've been closing yourself into that room for days now and I miss you. I miss you."

Eddie's face falls, Steve's hands fall, and they both fall into each other.

Eddie's arms are wrapping around his waist as Steve lets out a sob.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to make you miss me," Eddie whispered into his ear, kissing his temple, his jaw, his cheek. "I'm right here, love. I'm sorry."

Steve nodded, accepting the apologies, the kisses, the love he was being given. He wasn't ashamed about needing it, not anymore. Eddie made sure he never felt like he couldn't ask for the attention he wanted.

"What's got you so stressed in there?" Steve finally asked, voice muffled against Eddie's shoulder.

"C'mon, I should probably just show you," Eddie pulled away, tugging Steve back towards the music room.

Once inside, Steve was led to the couch and given a peck on the lips.

Eddie sat down at his keyboard and cracked his knuckles.

"I've been working on something since we were on tour, but I thought the reason I couldn't get further was because of my environment. But I've been home for days and it's not getting better. Every time I think I'm onto something, I lose it or it doesn't come out right or it doesn't fit with the rest," Eddie explained, gesturing wildly.

Steve watched with wide eyes. He always loved watching Eddie's passion flow through his limbs the same way it flowed through his words. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with him.

"Show me what you've got so far, then," Steve gestured for him to start playing.

Eddie wasn't one to hold back, but he hesitated now.

It only lasted a moment though, his fingers starting to flow over the keyboard and his voice starting to sing.

It was beautiful, and nothing like what Steve had expected, nothing like what Corroded Coffin normally performed.

The words were romantic, hidden behind a yearning, something Steve hadn't heard Eddie write since before they were together.

And then he sang a line that would've knocked Steve to his knees if he'd been standing.

"It's with a curse I leave you, it's with a curse I love you I can't find my way back to you tonight"

Steve immediately flashed back to one night in the middle of the tour, when Eddie had called him right after a show, something he only did when the show didn't go as well as he hoped.

He'd complained about the storms delaying their start time nearly an hour, and how Gareth was offbeat for half of a song, and how the fans didn't seem as into it as usual. And when he went to hang up, he said "I wish I could find my way back to you tonight."

Steve had been almost asleep by that point, but the sung line sparked the memory.

Steve stood and walked over to Eddie, cupping his face in his hands and swiping his thumbs across his cheeks.

"You found your way back to me now, though, baby. You always do," he said.

Eddie pulled his hands from the keyboard and pulled Steve down into his lap.

"I needed you then. I started writing this that night. Sorry it's not finished yet."

"You...you wrote this for me?" Steve asked, realizing now that there was a reason why he used that line.

Steve wasn't stupid, but sometimes he was a little slow.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I know you miss me when I'm gone, but you have no idea how much I miss you."

Steve knew, or thought he knew, that Eddie missed him. They talked every night before shows, and texted on Steve's lunch breaks and when he got off of work. But it always felt like Eddie got to stay busy enough not to think about missing him as much.

But this tour had been the first time Steve couldn't take much time off of work, only being able to attend a handful of shows throughout.

Normally, he spent more than half the tour with him.

Steve kissed him, hard.

Eddie grunted, surprised at the sudden intensity of Steve's lips on his, but didn't pull away. His hands gripped Steve's hips, leaving bruises as a reminder that Steve wouldn't actually need.

Eddie would be home with him for months now, enjoying the holidays together, visiting their friends and family as time allowed. He wouldn't have to leave for another tour until their next album was released the following year.

They had time.

But Steve's lips acted as if they only had tonight, his stomach already fluttering with need and anticipation of having those needs fulfilled.

Because Eddie would. Eddie always would.

He may not always be there, he may have to miss him, but he always got what he needed in the end.

The kissing turned messy, lips wet and spit on the corners of their mouths, desperate to keep sharing and tasting each other.

"Want you," Steve panted, bucking his hips forward so that his hard length finally got friction against Eddie's. "Please."

"Here?" Eddie asked, breathless.

"Anywhere, everywhere, doesn't matter."

"Oh my god. That's perfect!" Eddie pulled away, turning to the notepad on the sheet music stand.

Steve smacked his arm.

"I swear, Munson, if you don't focus on my extremely hard dick soon-"

"You're anywhere, everywhere But not here, not tonight"

Steve melted.

"That's good, Eds. It's really good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Steve kissed his forehead, smiling into it as he felt Eddie's shoulders relax. "Now, will you please fuck me on this bench?"

Eddie laughed and bit his shoulder.

"If you insist."

[anyamaris]

It's You

Title: It's You

Word Count: 2540

Summary: Getting lost at an Ateez concert has an unexpected experience you'll treasure forever.

Pairing: Choi San x F!Atiny!Reader

Trope-Idol AU/Angst

Warnings: Concert stuff, a bit of vulgar language, a bit angsty...I think that's it?

Tags: @cultofdionysusnet @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @starlitmark @millennial-fangirl @ericssmile @wooahaeproductions @changbinslovelylegs @yeosxxx @starillusion13 @minki-moo @woosanbby @frenchkisstheabyss

@cafekitsune Thank you for banners and dividers! 🤍💜🤍

A/N: I'm dedicating this to @sanjoongie because you helped me talk through this and you know what you did 🤍💜🤍It's short and a bit rushed but I had the idea the other night and wanted to get it out of my head. I hope you all enjoy!

The air around you is humid as you watch Ateez wave and walk off stage.

Sound check was entirely worth it, though you’d waited in lines for hours.

Despite the disorganization, the chaos, the other random not so pleasant events building to this moment.

Despite it all, the moment you got to see Ateez walk out onto that stage, in person, right in front of you?

It was all worth it.

You look around the enormous venue from your place on the floor, at all the Atiny gathered around talking.

Sweat beads on your brow and one of the girls you met today smiles at you as she fans you both.

“I’m going to go get some water and possibly stop at merch, did you want anything?” she asks.

Touched at her offer, you nod.

“Yes, please! Can you get me a Yeosang picket?”

She nods as she stands, “Of course!”

“You have my insta, message if you need anything!” You wave as she wanders off up to the higher floors.

One of the best things about concerts was meeting all the fans, at least for you that was a massive part of it.

Turning to see what your friends are doing, you try to join the conversation but they seem to have their own thing going on.

Fighting down the feeling of third wheeling, you just slap on a smile and wander around to meet some more new people.

The screens keep randomly coming on with some videos to tease everyone, making you all think the concert is about to start, but it’s not quite time yet.

After what seems like ages, you finally spot your new friend walking back down the arena steps, pickets in hand.

Excited to see her, especially since the concert is about to start soon, you watch her approach as you wave to her.

Yet when she presents your two other friends with pickets and nothing more, your stomach drops.

“Oh…they didn’t have anymore Yeosang?” you ask, fighting back the sadness overcoming you.

Oh well, maybe next time, you think.

“Oh….” the younger girl says, looking between your two friends who now hold their own biases.

“You didn’t say you wanted one?” One of them throws in and you feel your heart plummet.

“I…I did…when you left…” You tell the younger girl who’d gone.

“Oh…when I messaged they said they were the only ones who wanted them….” She says, regret washing over her face.

“It’s okay.” you say, fighting back the way your throat clenches and tears prick your eyes.

“Maybe next time.”

After a bit of back and forth and waving it all off, you turn to just try to focus on the show.

It didn’t matter if you didn’t get a silly picket, really.

You were here, at Ateez.

But still…

A hand on your arm brings you out of your sad thoughts.

“Hey, I’m so sorry….I know you said Yeosang when I left but when I messaged them…they said just the two….”

Glancing at your two friends who were back to conversing, you just shake your head.

You had asked her when she was going…and they hadn’t asked you at all.

They are just excited to see each other, catching up.

Things you tell yourself over and over as whenever you’ve attempted to join the conversation just earns you a tight smile, a nod, a snappy retort that makes you feel as if you’ve butted in.

So you just retreat into your own mind, ignoring the overwhelming feeling of heartbreak threatening to ruin your experience.

“Really, it’s fine. I don’t think they were listening when I said it anyhow.” you tell the poor girl, who looks like she’s about to cry.

You can’t help but glance back at the stairs, head spinning now.

For some reason, you know you don’t need the damn picket, but…

Now it feels like you need it to stop your mind from imploding.

“I have some time…you know what…I’m going to go get one.” you finally announce.

The younger girl’s sad face perks up and she nods, “I’ll come with you!”

“No, it’s okay, we have twenty minutes and I don’t want you to miss anything.” You tell her.

It’s not her fault, and she doesn’t need to make up for anything.

She hands you a Yunho pc with a smile and gestures for you to follow her.

“Really, I’ll at least show you where to go. And have a Yunho cause I feel really bad.” She says.

Not wanting to argue, you just smile, touched that she’s willing to accompany you.

It sounds painfully selfish in your head, but it was nice to feel like someone cared about you, even for a moment.

This wasn’t how your first kpop concert was supposed to feel.

You’d wanted a week building up watching Ateez, eating and breathing them.

Squealing with your friends over the upcoming show, just being a completely ridiculous fangirl.

It had been anything but that.

All you can do now is make sure the rest of your night was happy.

Just focus on Ateez! You think to yourself.

That’s what brought you here.

All the other Atiny you’ve met have been amazing, spending the time you’ve waited in line and after soundcheck talking about your biases and what you’re looking forward to.

Finally getting into the long merch line, you wave off the younger girl as she returns downstairs and turn to wait.

Here too, you find yourself chatting to other Atiny, especially when the videos keep coming on to tease at the show starting, watching everyone in line around you panic.

“Please…please please….” you mutter, watching the merch sell down, eyes on your Yeosang picket.

As you draw closer, you hear the music start again, mere minutes for the start of the actual show.

Heart pounding, you can’t help but grin as the man pulls down your picket and you scan your card in record time.

“Yes!” you say out loud, feeling silly, but then sprinting off to get back down.

Suddenly, you look around, watching the Atiny at the general admission seats all file out to see the show.

Yet, it feels like you’ve gone far past wherever you came out.

“Uhhh…” you hum aloud, turning in a circle to look around.

Heart pounding as you hear the music growing louder, you try to fight back panic as you find a staff member.

“Where are the elevators?” you ask, and nod as you try to comprehend directions.

Yep, you’d run right past them in your haste.

Feeling stupid, you turn and run back, randomly stopping a staff member to make sure you’re heading the right way.

After three times, you’re finally directed to some nondescript doors and push through, a sense of relief washing over you as you see the elevators.

“C’mon…” you mumble, watching some people come through behind you.

The door dings and opens, and the people behind you file in.

“Which floor?” one of them asks.

“Ummm..”

Good question, you think.

“Down, maybe P1?” You tell her.

She shakes her head, halting the door from closing.

“This is going up, you’ll have to catch the next one.”

Shit.

Nodding, you exit off so they can go, apologizing, then turning to press the button down.

Stop making mistakes cause you’re in a hurry, you chastise yourself.

Suddenly, everything building up the whole week feels heavy.

The feeling of not being wanted around, third wheeling.

The sense of being alone in an arena packed with people.

Heart breaking even while your favorite group is about to step onto stage in moments.

Am I going to miss this?

What floor am I even supposed to be on?

Your mind races, getting on an elevator alone and hitting a button for one of the lower floors.

It feels like hours, even though it’s only seconds before the doors open and you race out, finding yourself in a long hallway.

“Shit…” you grumble, clutching your picket to your chest.

Turning around, you make your way back to the elevators and try another floor.

Finding a moment of clarity, you message your friend.

“I have no idea where I am…”

You doubt they will be looking at their messages though.

Your heart drops as you realize you actually may be lost, stepping out onto a floor that looks just like the rest.

You run halfway down, heart sinking as you realize you’re going to miss it.

You’re going to miss Ateez.

And no one is likely even wondering where you are.

It’s not supposed to be like this.

You feel your eyes burn, not even worried anymore about your makeup as you swipe at your eyes.

Picket clutched to your chest, hair damp from the heat, crying in a stupid hallway all alone at an arena packed with people.

How fucking ridiculous.

A sob escapes you before you can stop it, doing your best to collect yourself because crying isn’t going to-

“Hey…you’re not supposed to be down here!”

The male voice startles you, heart skipping as both panic and relief fill you.

Maybe he can help you find where you’re supposed to be.

Maybe you’re about to get kicked out for going somewhere you’re not supposed to be.

“Calm down.” You hear another voice, then your heart about jumps right out of your throat.

The security guard turns to look behind him and take in the sight that threatens to overwhelm your poor Atiny heart.

Choi San.

He rests a hand on the guard's arm, then turns to you with a worried look on his face.

“Are you..okay?” He asks softly, and you feel your cheeks heating at your appearance.

Shit, crying in front of Choi San….

“I…” you swallow, blinking to try to make your brain work, “I’m lost.”

“Ah…well…our friend can help you find your way. Right?” He says, turning his dimpled smile to the guard.

“Of course.” The man says, immediately coming to direct you back to the elevators.

Embarrassed beyond belief, yet feeling surreal at being this close to San, you can only nod your head and mumble an apology and a thank you to him.

“Don’t cry, Atiny. Just look at me and smile, okay?” He calls out, waving to you as he rushes back to where some voices are calling to him.

You can only nod, the image of his crinkled eyes and adorable smile setting your heart back on the right path.

Before you get to the elevators, you hear his voice once more behind you.

“And Yeosang is mine!”

The elevator door close, and you look down at your picket where Yeosang’s face is clutched in your arms.

The guard just chastises you lightly for getting lost but you can only smile as the doors open to the correct floor and you step out, finally rushing to find your friends on the floor.

Holy shit…Choi San?

If nothing else happens tonight, this is a memory you’re going to hold with you forever.

You smile at your picket as you join your friends, the crowd erupting as you watch the show start.

Everything is a blur once it begins.

Every single one of them is amazing, and the entire show feels surreal.

You’d told yourself that it’s just a show but each member seems larger than life.

Wooyoung’s solo stage, each unit song….Cyberpunk…HALAZIA?

Give the cameraman an award, you think.

And when Mingi says fucking jump, despite the sweat coating your skin and your aching knees, you fucking JUMP.

Each one comes over and waves during certain moments, and it’s of course your own personal delulu but it feels like sometimes they look right at you.

You beam with pride, hoping every Atiny around you feels as if they are looking directly at them because damn this is a wonderful feeling.

But there’s a moment, when San makes his way to your part of the stage.

You swear that he looks right at you.

He opens his mouth as he points and waves, just like the rest of them do, but you swear he winks at you.

No way, he definitely didn’t notice you in a crowd of people based on a moment of meeting.

But when he touches his eye and runs it down his face, then shakes a finger at you as if to say, “Don’t cry!”

…well your heart just bursts with happiness.

As with all good things, the show seems to fly by and before long you’re filing out.

You’ve gotten such good videos, so many good pictures.

You can’t wait to go through them all.

Watching your friends talk, you find yourself waiting outside the venue for some of their other friends as you just let the evening swirl in your head.

The post concert rush was washing over you, the ache settling in, the reality of it all.

But it wasn’t a bad thing.

Sure you still felt left out.

Of course your body was covered in disgusting sweat, makeup probably looking like some halloween costume, clothing soaked through from dancing and jumping around.

I hope I don’t stink, you think to yourself.

It’s a long drive back and by the time you finally get to your friend's house and head to bed, you swear you pass out before you even close your eyes.

The next day, you wake early and head back to real life.

You’re now deemed the “cutest toad” by some friends that you send voice messages to and you can’t help but laugh because yeah….

You’d screamed and sung your heart out.

There was only a small little croak left of your voice.

Life goes on of course, but you enjoy the time you get to spend uploading your pictures and videos to everyone.

Instagram, Tumblr, sending to friends and your little groups.

It was a blur, a memory but you choose to keep the good ones and ignore the small little things that peppered your heart with sadness.

It’s only days later, when the excitement is dying down that something happens that you’re not expecting.

You hadn’t mentioned your encounter to your friends, for a few reasons.

First, when you’d tried to mention you’d gotten lost and cried, they’d just brushed you off and you swear they weren’t actually listening.

Second, well….somehow you wanted to keep this experience to yourself.

It even sounded fake in your own mind.

And besides, San had said maybe three things to you?

It wasn’t that big of a deal.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Really though, you know it’s because it’s your secret now.

A silly, secret thing that happened because your stupid ass got yourself lost.

It was all fading into the little memory box in your heart until it happened.

Of course your posts have gotten plenty of likes and some comments.

But what you don’t expect is the comment you are currently staring at, slack jawed as you look at your phone.

No way.

It’s not really….

Is it?

Your brain seems to seize as you read the comment a few more times.

You hadn’t said a word to anyone.

It had to be him.

“You’re not crying, right?”

Choi….San???

[nausikaaa]

Six Sentence Sunday

thanks for tagging me @run-for-chamo-miles @that-disabled-princess and @orange-peony!

classicstober 2024's prompts have been announced and i'm super excited because it's historical figures! my obsession with Roman non-fiction and biographies has finally paid off!

i thought it would be a good opportunity to jumpstart my writing brain by writing lots of short and snappy things. and so today, i've written 1000 or so words for Regina of South Shields, who i've had the pleasure of visiting!

i'm about to ramble, so i'm putting it under a cut. also warning, i've included photos of a tombstone and a human skeleton. if you just want to read the six sentences and not see them, scroll fast right to the bottom.

so, this is Regina. or rather, her tombstone, discovered by builders in 1878, and a reconstruction of how it might have looked when it was erected. if you haven't heard of her, which is understandable, she was a British woman from modern day St Albans (near London) during the Roman occupation of Britain. she was sold as a slave (did her family need money? was she born a slave? we don't know) and bought by a man named Barates, from Palmyra, a city in modern day Syria, who was either a soldier or at least travelling with the Roman army. they moved to a garrison close to Hadrian's Wall in what is now South Shields in the north east, and Barates fell in love with Regina. he freed her and they got married.

her tombstone is mostly important because it tells us that a Syrian man was in Britain during this time, and since her tombstone has Palmyrene script on it, and the chances he engraved his own wife's tombstone are slim, there was likely at least one other Syrian person who could engrave headstones around. which suggests that there was a whole group! the name of the Roman fort in South Shields was Arbeia, which could even mean "the place of the arabs."

it's estimated that a third of people in Britain during the Roman occupation were long distance migrants, and most were not slaves, as is often assumed. Ivory Bangle Lady, who I have also visited in York Museum and who lived around the same time, is believed to have come from Africa. and she was a wealthy free woman!

but what about Regina? well, we know she was from the Catuvellauni tribe, and that she died aged 30. we can assume she spun wool as she's depicted doing so on the tombstone, which was a respectable pastime for Roman women, and she's shown wearing lots of jewellery, so she probably led a comfortable life.

but we don't know how she felt about her marriage, as her tombstone is in Barates' words. did she love him back, or was she under duress to marry him to improve her own prospects? did they have children? did she have friends in Arbeia? did she have to learn Aramaic or Latin to communicate with Barates, or did he know Celtic? we simply don't know. so much of her personality has been lost to time.

so my challenge was to write something that pieces together various possibilities to create what could be an approximation of who Regina was. to give her some life, a voice, and at least a bit of agency.

okay. enough preamble. here's six lines:

I had grown and reached my twentieth year, and as the dark circles beneath my eyes disappeared and the warmer months led me to abandon my woollen cloak, I noticed men's behaviour towards me change. I am not the type to play at being coy- I knew they found me attractive. With my white skin, red hair, and pale blue eyes, I was exotic to them. I stood out.

I noticed Barates' behaviour change too. I realised I had a choice to make.

if you want to know more about Regina, my main source is this podcast by Mary Beard, but i also took inspiration from the book Roman Woman by Lindsay Allason-Jones.

tags: @forabeatofadrum @j-nipper-95 @artsyunderstudy @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @imagineacoolusername @ic3-que3n @aristocratic-otter @larkral @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @shemakesmeforget @fatalfangirl @ebbpettier @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cutestkilla @youarenevertooold @alexalexinii @shrekgogurt @bookish-bogwitch @thewholelemon @supercutedinosaurs @shutup-andletme-go @theearlgreymage @ileadacharmedlife @alleycat0306 @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @comesitintheclover @noblecorgi @roomwithanopenfire and @blackberrysummerblog

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.5<< >>Ch.7

Notes: Miguel is enjoying your presence with each passing day. Realizations is slowly creeping through.

Chapter 6: Tell Me that You Love Me...

Word count: 2.1K

Three weeks passed when you first officially hung out.

Six weeks when Miguel's “tabs” turned into genuine daily conversations ranging from text messages to phone calls that he never imposed on missing.

Nine weeks when things began to take a turn.

Over the course, you two have gotten closer. Miguel would sneak from his workstation over to your humble abode at any chance that was available. 

It eventually became a routine, a regime. Wednesday nights were the ceremonial ‘hangout days,’ as you had every Thursday off.

And every Wednesday, Miguel had justifications on precisely why he should not be troubled on that particular day.

“I need to double check if the code for stabilizing dimensions is up to date.” Liar.

“I'm performing augmented machinery work for the portal watches. They've been malfunctioning for me.” Bullshit.

“I'm tired.” That was sort of true, but it never slowed him down before.

Whenever someone even attempts to debate or raise any doubts, he flares, defensively striking more so than usual. It became a phrase around the coven of Spider-people.

“Be careful; it's ‘Snappy Wednesdays’ for Miguel.” Would be telephoned throughout.

It vexed him to no end. If he wanted to remain unbothered, he should just be permitted to do so with no hassle. But no, it's never that easy for him. It was never easy until he crossed that threshold. 

When he steps through your door, the stress and the unease lingers yet vanish. A strange balance.

“Are they still giving you hell about leaving?”

You poured the boiled noodles into a cauldron as Miguel was sprawled out on your couch, his sheathed claws harshly massaging his temples.

“Yes, and today was no better. I swear if I hear one more, ‘but are you sure you want to leave? It's a scary world out there,’ I'm going to lose it ¿Por qué tengo que ser uno para ponerlos todos? ¿Por qué me estoy plagando de estos idiotas?”

You peer up at the grouchy man and smile. 

“I just don't understand why they're not used to it by now. I mean, maybe the first or second time it'll be weird, but the fifth or sixth? It's just a routine at that point. Or maybe that's just me. I can't speak for everyone.” You giggle, dumping the spaghetti in the meat sauce, and begin to stir.

“No, you're right. I just wish they would get used to it. Having to endure this shit is mind-numbing.”

You hobbled over to him with a giant bowl of pasta for him and a decent portion for you.

“Well, I hope there's some solace here. Even if it's just a smidgen.” You wormed your way right next to him before handing him his portion, crossing your legs on the sofa.

“Trust me when I say there's peace within these walls.” Miguel twirled the fork around.

“As peaceful as an apartment building can get, so a good forty-five percent.”

“Why so low?”

“Have you ever heard neighbors going at it in the middle of the night? I mean, they're certainly finding solace in each other! There's other factors, of course, but that's the biggest.”

A shared laugh broke out as you sighed in unison.

A comforting quietude rested; the only sounds being made were the clanking and clattering of the forks against the bowls.

“I've been meaning to ask, what's the name of the store you work for?” He filled in a little bit of space between you two.

“Huh, I never told you? I swore I did.”

Miguel shook his head.

“Guess I've gotten so comfortable around you, my brain assumes I did tell you.”

That rocked Miguel. You felt comfort in his presence? Was it an obligation or authentic? He disrupted that train of thought and briskly attuned his focus back to you.

“Alright, are you ready for the name?” You perched your dish on the table, relaxing your palms on your full belly.

“Sí, tan listo como siempre lo estaré. Go for it.”

“Adequate Antique Antics.”

Miguel's eyes flickered as his brain made an effort to process what you said.

“Adequate anti- what now?”

“Adequate Antique Antics. Bit of a tongue twisting mouthful, isn't it?”

He nodded in agreement, setting his bowl next to yours.

“Eso estuvo delicioso. So why did she name the store that?”

Your face heated at the compliment he gave you. He was just expressing that he enjoyed the spaghetti. Yet it made you giddier than how you normally would react.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. And she didn't pick it–a family-owned business. You know how that goes.” Settling more onto the couch, minding the glass bowls, you prop your feet and free a displeasing sigh.

“She's been in a fight with her parents to change the name ever since I can remember. And oh my gosh, I'm still hearing about it until this day!”

Miguel blinked as he waited for you to continue. A week or so ago, he picked up on your facial expressions when you were done speaking. 

And you clearly weren't.

“For nearly three and a half years I've been working there, she somehow manages to bring up the argument for the name every day without fail. And here I'm thinking I'm persistent, but my goodness.”

Miguel snickered at your heated explanation. “Ronnie sounds very vehement.”

“I prefer hard-headed. But that works too.”

You grin at each other as you pretend to readjust yourself, scooting closer to him.

“I'm weirdly tempted to meet this Ronnie and see what she's like in person.”

You blew a raspberry before flinging a hand over your mouth. You possibly got too comfortable around him. 

Miguel lifted a brow at that reaction from you. He's never seen you do that before.

“Ah! I'm sorry. An atypical response I get sometimes. Just a slip of the tongue.” You cringed at the unintentional pun.

“I think it's adorable.” Now it was Miguel's turn to wince. The difference was that he hid it well.

You squirmed in your seat before mentally scolding yourself.

“Oh, thank you. That's very sweet of…”

You trailed off, gazing into his hypnotizing, vermillion eyes. Miguel returned the stare, taking in every part of your face. 

Every inch, from your eyes, your nose, your lips, and more. How your skin gleamed–even if the lights were dimmed in your apartment, it still managed to make you shine ever so brightly.

Dazing back simultaneously, you both spun your heads towards the front. Your heart pounded so hard that even your stomach felt it. Miguel controlled his breathing, his cheeks heating up. 

He couldn't. He shouldn't.

“Um, but yes, if you want to. Ronnie can be a bit of an intense menace, but she means well. Well, as well as one can mean.”

“That's how I feel about Peter.” Miguel grumbled. Even speaking his name causes him to instinctively grouch about it.

“From the stories you told about him, putting those two together under one roof?” You shuddered just at the thought of it.

“She can't be as bad as Peter.”

You gave Miguel a tentative look.

“It's that bad?”

You heavily nodded your head. “Minus the baby.”

“Funny how we both have someone who causes some sense of hassle.”

You gave a crooked smile. “It's a curse but also a blessing. Because at the end of the day, we know they just want the best.”

“For themselves?”

“Yes, but also in general. Though I don't fully agree with the methods she uses, Ronnie will always have my back. For example, if ever I need a day off for an emergency, I know I will receive it. Or when she told me I get every Thursday off. I was skeptical at first, but no, she kept her word. I only had to come in one Thursday because it was so heavily swamped, but I did not mind whatsoever. She goes out of her way to help me, and if she ever needs something, I'm willing to sacrifice to help her out. And I'm sure if you ever required anything, Peter would be there for you, and in return, you would do the same for him.”

Miguel could only gape.

“Heck, that even goes for us. Remember the first time you slept over? I told you I wouldn't let you suffer because you also helped me.” You laid your head back and stared at the ceiling.

“I personally like to think it's a give and give, with an occasional receive. Self-sacrifice? Maybe that's what I'm thinking of. I don't mind giving, but I'm also human, so if one is glad to lend more, then I'm going to return that favor, if not extra.”

“Some may see it as a beneficiary sort of deal. I helped this person out, so I should get something in return. Even though we humans are very reliant on one another in certain ways, some can use it for selfish needs.” You began to leisurely drum on your stomach.

Jutting up from your laid-back posture, you rotated your body toward him.

“I'm so sorry for the rambling. I hope anything I said made even a lick of sense.”

Your voice was slightly panicked before Miguel placed his hand on your arm, making sure to retract his claws.

“No, you're fine. I understood what you were alluding to.”

Your eyes landed on his fingers. They were calloused against your skin. He was always gentle around you.

“You aren't necessarily afraid to give and get nothing in return. But you're willing to go beyond and above for those who also have your best interests in mind.”

“Yeah! Wow, you summed up my spiel so easily. It might be that super duper smart spider brain.”

You giggled as his shoulders shook with a breathless laugh.

“Si. My spider brain is too highly advanced for many common people.”

You stared at him. He meant for it to come off as a joke. The problem was that his delivery was stern and dry. It almost sounded as if he suggested it as more of a statement.

He began to tighten until your face creased buoyantly. “It undoubtedly is for me. I'm going to assume jokes don't come easy for you?”

He slumped, and his jaw slackened. “I've been told I'm not funny.”

“You give me more sarcasm vibes than jokey ones. And I do enjoy a good sarcastic reply.”

You nudge him mischievously, garnering a joking eye roll. 

You two carried on your conversation until, at one point, Miguel self-reflected while you went to the shower.

Miguel bit his bottom lip as his mind raced to the earlier conversation. He sacrifices, but does he self-sacrifice? He gives up so much for the others, but do they even acknowledge his efforts? He’s aware they won't do the same, but would it be different if it were someone closer? 

It never crossed his mind how much he exactly does. The trillions that he's keeping safe. He's willing to let a few things go for them.

The one he truly wanted to keep safe is gone. He would be ready to give up everything just for her.

Miguel got startled as your voice sprang from the corner.

“You know what I was thinking–you should visit the antique shop! It would be fun to show you all the vintage items scattered!”

Sensing that there was something off, you sped over to him.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Miguel bowed his head. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost in thought.”

“Well, if you ever wanna talk about it, just let me know, okay?” You rubbed his shoulder, kneading it some to relieve a bit of pressure. “Know I'm here for you.”

That smile. That tranquil, patient smile you give him makes his heart skip a beat. Those considerate sparkling eyes that have him believe things are okay, even if it's just for a split second.

Would he give everything up for you as well?

A string breaks loose.

He decided to not dwell on it anymore.

“What were you saying before you came in?” He smoothly switched the conversation.

“Oh! You should visit the shop. If you want to or have time, of course. We're open from nine until seven.”

“I'll try, but I don't know if I really can during the day.”

You swallowed your disappointment and waved your hand. “Remember, just an offer! I'll probably still be working there for the next few years anyway, so I'm sure we'll still get time in the future.”

He was shocked. You would still want to be around him? He doesn't believe he's particularly special.

And there are just too many wrongs within him that would turn anyone away.

“Yeah, I will see.”

You flopped yourself on the sofa as you proceeded to converse until Miguel had to leave.

“We will see.” He murmured, staring up at your apartment complex, and trudged away.

[bomberqueen17]

what is up froods

lol i keep forgetting to like. actually write updates in my personal journal. i'm using this tumblr too much like a tumblr.

i went down a rabbit hole the other night in that i just opened my own archives and went back to 2013 and then realized i started this in 2011. i didn't say a lot, back then i definitely was still using my LJ for Big Personal Updates and Tumblr was exclusively for snappy shitposts, and then I abandoned the LJ and only blogged in snappy shitposts for a while, and I did some vagueblogging that I genuinely have no idea what it was about, and that's fun.

But there's some. Boy there's some real fossils in there. God everything stays the same but everything happens so much.

I know I've backed up this blog but IDK how much you can make it make sense, offline. Anyway. That's how it goes. I'm not in any kind of existential panic about the site I'm just reacting to the zeigeist here, it made me think of old times.

I go back to the farm in a couple of weeks-- just for a couple of weeks, but the Season is Starting. My physical therapist keeps giving me more exercises. She's right, my core strength is wretched, but when I said I'd tried to do crunches now and then, tried to stay a tiny bit fit but-- she was like omg no you can't do crunches, with that hip cartilage as it is, so I felt a little better. So she's teaching me what I *can* do, and the important thing is that she's like you cannot do this more than every other day or three times a week, you cannot rush this kind of thing, and it's wonderful advice contrary to all the other advice I've ever had in my life which was like every moment you're not doing more work you're being a lazy shit. So, that's nice. I'll cut because nothing else here is going to be interesting.

I'm not the youngest person at physical therapy but there's a lot of old people there. I haven't been masking, I've been being lazy and just using xylitol nose spray before I go, and it's been fine, but I know that's just luck. (I see no one but Dude, who sees almost no one but me, so the consequences of fucking up would be minor.) with a trip to the farm coming up, I'm going to go back to masking, at least in the lead-up to the trip-- because last time I had COVID I had almost no symptoms, and nowadays apparently the rapid tests aren't super useful. The way I'm coping is, I know, a logical fallacy-- since COVID wasn't bad the one time I had it, I'm just telling myself I'm resistant naturally and it won't hurt me, and I know this is not the truth at all but it helps me cope-- but I cannot stand the thought of spreading it to someone who would be more hurt by it, so I have convinced myself not to fear catching it but to fear spreading it. I figure it's effectively the same and lets me not just be fucking terrified all the time.

I also discovered that a former employee of the farm who's out here going to college is interested in carpooling, and we've already got a tentative date for him to ride back with me on my way back from the farm at the end of March, and this has lightened my spirits a great deal. It's such a long drive and it feels like such a waste of gas, and he does have a car but it's not actually that safe to drive on the Thruway. (He swears up and down it's perfectly safe but just not at sustained speeds over 60. I was like omg kid do NOT, I will drive, my car is brand fkn new. He's taking the train home and will ride back with me.)

Let's see. Oh I don't think I've kept up with posting about the kitchen painting. It's down to the last tiny fiddly details, and what I've got to do is do a half-stencil in the corner above the door, and I did one half yesterday and will finish the rest today. I had to custom cut out a copy of part of the stencil to make it work, and it's sort of janky and I am going to have to hand-paint it with a lot of masking tape, but it's such a small area that like, why not, I can be that fussy. It's fine.

Once I finish that, which if I do part in the morning and part in the afternoon I can do today, then I can FINALLY CLEAN UP AND PUT AWAY all the painting detritus. I can't tell you how excited I am to do that.

I've also been doing fabric dyeing, finally. I collected several of the muslin garments I'd finished and meant to do something with, and got out my dyes. I did a batch of ice dye solely because I forgot which ones I'd intended to use for that; now I have a pair of slightly ill-fitting homemade leggings that look like a clown threw up on them, and a cheerful sweatshirt to match. i then used the runoff to dye the cream-colored canvas work smock-- I sort of tie-dyed it because I pasted up a little bit of two of the component colors and poured that on a couple areas that I then rubberbanded, because I wanted tie-dye but did not want any white areas left. So it's a blue/purple/red smock now, and the rainbow stitching I constructed it with was polyester so it's still rainbow, huzzah. Subtle and understated and also I can smear it with filth and maybe it will still look intentional.

[image description: a canvas work smock with big pockets, hanging to dry, mostly a mucky dark purple but with some brighter splotches of red and dark blue, and some bits of paler purple.]

[image description: assorted garments draped over drying racks in a sunporch, in blotchy shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, all kind of run together but not murky.]

And then I did another batch of ice dye, this time with the dyes I had bought that are supposed to work well for this because they split. That dress is still in the wash so I don't have pictures of how it turned out, but mostly it just looks splotchy green. LOL oh well. The point was, I made all these test garments in undyed fabric, but I don't have a lifestyle where I can wear a white dress, so now I have some non-white dresses I don't have to be precious about. Some of them I should now probably hem and like actually finish..........

I have one dress and one shirt left, and a pair of light-wash jeans I don't like wearing, and I'm thinking about trying like. Ombre or something. We'll see if I get around to that.

My sewing area is still a fuckin disaster and I don't want to think about it. But I'm cutting out a vest from scrap denim, I want a quilted abrasion-resistant washable work vest for farm work next week and I gotta get a move on. All I need now is to cut out the batting and get to it. So hopefully today.

I took photos, I might try writing up how-tos on the dyeing and on the repurposed denim stuff, but I also might not. If I was doing this again I would probably not bother with the ice, for the rainbow one. We'll see once the properly ice dyed dress comes out of this wash, I can hear the washer spinning but I'm trapped under Chita at the moment.

I missed this week's fic update because I'm progressing so slowly on both current active WIPs. I have a bunch written ahead in both, but each one has the back half of the current chapter just held up waiting for me to write them; I've overcome the structural decisions that delayed me, but I have to just sit and write them. And both of them are complicated scenes I've been waiting to write a long time, so I'm looking forward to writing them, and so like, paradoxically, can't make myself do it. Because once I've done it I'll have done it, see... anyway. Silly but there it is. I'll get through it once I decide I deserve that treat. I know! I know.

[streetkid-named-desire]

uwu @luvwich tagged me for a writer interview (?!) so let's get to the navel gazing

i tag @wanderingaldecaldo and @medtech-mara

When did you start writing?

Since I was like 8. I'm not joking. When we were selling the condo after I'd moved out my mom and I pruned the "kid art" boxes together because she kept nearly everything creative we ever did. There was this assignment where we had to write our own version of the tortoise and the hare in second or third grade and it was honestly pretty witty. Like, it was still very much in the voice I still write with today.

Then in middle school I wrote vampire rescue stories (girl is mid-assault or nearly assaulted and near death, vampire rescues and has to tun her to save her life, she wakes up in a castle) but it was way more gory. I never finished one. As I got older I dabbled here and there but again, rarely finished something. I've written a variety of short fiction and you can read some of my stuff here.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Nooo. Even with movies I generally stick to horror and sci-fi which is also what I enjoy writing. Although, I do enjoy like literary fiction? Satire? Idk I really love Chuck Palahniuk and Doug Coupland.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't think I've ever been compared to anyone, no. I know my style is influenced by Weird Al, John Scieszka, Chuck Palahniuk, Stephen King, Neal Stephenson, William Gibson. Probably some others but I can't think of their names.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

GOD either my phone in bed or at my desk. My desk is messy and there is a cat bed on it so the cats can be close to me without being fucking pests and walking over my keyboard. I bought a new desk in like June of last year when I first moved into me new place and I...still have not put it together.

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

Watching horror movies. Also just starting to write. I have to remember to trust and just write, just start writing.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I will say I was SO shooketh when I picked up A Streetkid Named Desire again, especially for how much of myself, my past, my experiences, my history I put into Bea and VG. Otherwise, recurring themes are cynical optimism, push and pull love, autism, kinda antiheroes, body horror, and complex characters. Not to toot my own horn on that last one.

What is your reason for writing?

I have to. I have to get this story out of my head. I play in my imagination. It's actually the only way I can really daydream, that's why I call it my imagination playground.

Mostly because it's part of who I am. I write. I'm a writer. That's all there is to it.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I have...so few comments. The best ones are about my characters and emotions. But any comment is motivating. Mostly because I'm just putting all this out there and it would be so nice for other people to read and share in this experience because it's not just a story it's kind of baring my soul.

I want someone to see me through my writing.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Eeeehhhhhsgghasgbdf I don't wanna think about being perceived. I think just a good author.

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

Snappy dialogue and character dynamics.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I feel very neutral until I re-read it on AO3 and go "damn, I really cooked." I kinda get excited when I am re-reading for the first time and it's actually good.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Completely and purely for myself. My story and characters are very close to me and I feel just compelled to tell it. I mostly let the characters decide as I write. I write for myself because it's fun and I like seeing the story in my imagination in my head. I want other people to enjoy my writing too but unfortunately I am not likely going to cater to readers lol

This is why I likely will only ever be self-published if I do publish an original story because I could not fathom or tolerate an editor wanting to cut certain things or make it more marketable or something. My writing is all a part of me and part of my soul and not staying true to that, not writing what I want or how I want is crushing.

[7grandmel]

Blog Update - 16/06/2024

TL;DR: My 1-month break is over! The blog is returning but with a slower rate of posts. New forms of posts will start rolling out soon as well - scroll down to the bullet-point list for details.

Hello all! I've been receiving some asks and questions in the request form wondering where I've been this past month. Rest assured, I've been fine. With Athletic Doctor back in May, I reached the one-year anniversary of doing this daily-rip-posting thing, and today, June 16th, marks the one-year anniversary of this blog's existence as a whole with Snowball Park - Super Mario 3D World. Because yeah, for those first 30 posts I didn't do this as part of a blog, but as a daily activity for my own personal Tumblr account on @melblur. If you compare the word counts on those first few posts (the "First 30 Archive") to the posts made later in the blog's run, you'll likely be able to see how my focus in writing evolved, going from mere shoutouts and recommendations to full-on retrospectives and analysis. That was a large part of why I chose the blog's initial name as "Tumblr's SiIvaGunner Historian", there's something about regaling these oft-forgotten events in the channel's history that just invigorates me, a passion that kept me doing this for a year straight. What began as nothing but a laid-back writing exercise to keep my mind sharp became something that, on some days for rips that I was truly passionate about, drew my FULL undivided attention for an entire day's worth.

You saw the TL;DR, and you can probably tell where this is going. By the last few posts, I was noticing myself that this really isn't sustainable to keep doing at a daily rate. I've worn that pace as a badge of honor for so long on here: In my mind, it just made so much sense for a blog celebrating SiIvaGunner, a channel partially defined by its insane rate of uploads, to also do things at such a high pace, with so many references to past posts interconnecting them all just like the many in-jokes on SiIvaGunner itself. But this blog isn't a network of a hundred team members and a thousand contributors - aside from the requests on what to write and footnotes left by a rip's creator, everything made on this blog has done solely by its writer, me, Mel. I loved it - but I do think its about time I slow things down.

I was as torn on this choice as you likely are seeing it - after all, it's called "TODAYS siivagunner" for a reason, right? I was toying around with how to resolve this as far back as in March of this year, tossing around ideas and concepts as to rework the blog to be more feasible whilst still preserving its spirit. The April Fools prank, the legendary Raftmageddon of Raft Ride ~ The Story So Far, was sort of an offshoot of this, a day where posts were more rapid-fire than ever yet were all contained to just five or six sentences each: Short, snappy, concise, and even pretty casual and silly a lot of the time. And that was really fun for the sake of the bit, it again fit with the nature of Raft Ride the same way that my main posts sort of fit with the nature of standard SiIvaGunner uploads, but I realized even then that it wouldn't be a good fit for the blog's main posts - the things that make both you and I most happy as readers and writers respectively are when I get to truly get down to the meat of a rip and explore its contents and history to the fullest.

A month went by quicker than I thought it would, but alas, here we are. A lot can change in not so much time - I'm currently employed, for one, which is yet another reason why daily posts feel far less feasible, but I'm also spending my time expanding my interests, listening to albums, reading books, watching shows, talking to new people...I want this blog to keep going, but I also don't want to use it as an excuse for my own lack of growth as a person. And so, I've landed on a compromise that I hope will satiate all of us. Here's the current plan for the blog going forward:

Rip coverage will be going from daily to weekly, posted every Monday starting tomorrow, June 17th. In return, the goal is to make these posts as well-written and interesting to read as possible.

Requests for these posts will still be taken as normal. I'll of course try to prioritize requests from people who haven't had theirs featured on the blog yet, but keep in mind that it's still up to my judgement if I'll be able to have enough to say on a rip (or know enough about a rip's topic) to warrant writing a post on it!

New, more laid-back kinds of posts for the blog will be featured in the days between rip coverage posts - these will be a lot simpler in nature and made ~2-4 times a week depending on my schedule. Here are some examples of posts I have in mind!

GIFs and image sets from the channel's various visual rips and/or lore videos! Think the Christmas Comeback Crisis, the KFAD Tournaments, the Festival events of Season 4, 5 and 6, legacy content posted on the SiIvaGunner Twitter account, and more!

Character appreciation posts featuring all sorts of characters from the SiIvaGunner lore! Celebrate the figments you love with all twelve other SiIvaGunner fans on Tumblr!

Trivia about the channel, which I'd otherwise sneak into main posts, may get small little posts in of themselves! This can be anything from Did-You-Knows about how in-jokes have been carried on during the channel's life, to easter eggs and references, to fun tidbits about rippers themselves.

Shitposts! Goofs! Stuff I'd otherwise reblog under the #epic flintstones tag, basically.

Miscellaneous text posts related to the channel, such as Guides, summaries, or just whatever various thoughts I have!

All of these will have their own tags dedicated to them, just like #todays siivagunner - what tags they end up being is still up in the air and may change even as the posts are rolling out. Either way, the blog's pinned post will be continually updated with all the relevant tags and info about the blog - keep an eye out on it during next week.

Whew! That's a lot of stuff covered. I hope you're as excited for the second year of this blog as I am! Hopefully the greater variety of posts will help with the longer wait between "main" posts. The goal is, as you can imagine, to keep the blog a fun read for you all and just as much of a fun passtime for me, whilst also easing my own workload enough to make it manageable. I love running this blog more than anything, and I'm hoping this new schedule will give me more energy to make better posts - Maybe I'll even get a chance to interact with all of you even more by discussing more than just per-rip analysis.

Thanks for reading everyone - That SiIvaGunner Tumblr Blog will officially be back tomorrow!

[toomuchracket]

this is random but I had a thought about maybe flatmate girlie getting a bit put out by the girls in the girls video. like not mega jealous, but maybe a bit insecure? like obviously they’re GORGEOUS and stuff but seeing them all in their underwear and matty is obviously around them and looking at them and stuff. idk, just a thought. like maybe they’d get home and she’d be a bit snappy and short with him (I too get like that when I’m jel or sad lol), and he’s like have I done something wrong? is everything okay? and she just doesn’t know how to say how she feels without being like I want it to be me that you gawk at in lingerie!!!!!!

you meet them in the pub after the shoot and it's all nice and fun until hann (bless him) slides his phone to you and says "here, we did a little behind the scenes thing to show you because you couldn't make it earlier"; literally the second clip is matty chatting to a couple of the models in their underwear and them being a bit giggly, right into an actual video clip of them kissing him on the cheek, and you're literally clenching your teeth to try and keep a straight face as you ooh and aah at the rest of it. matty leans forward after you've watched it to be like "so this is the idea it's a pisstake of pop vids and then there's the robert palmer reference with the hot girls and the lipstick and-", and you cut him off like "yeah i'm not stupid i understand the concept and the inspo" - he's slightly taken aback like "oh. of course. yeah. sorry, darlin", but you're already chatting to george about something. and it's all fine for a little bit, until ross casually says "matty. are you gonna see that girl with the short hair again? she was cool. seemed to really like you", and he's like "oh maybe. she's so fit. couldn't keep my eyes off her when she was pretending to be me, to be honest lol", and that's IT for you; you're like "oh it's my round, same again? i'll be back in a minute", and go up to the bar for a bit of space and some silent seething. but that's fucking ruined by matty following you like a lost puppy giving it "hi sweetheart. thought you might want a hand carrying everything over. missed you today", and all you can do is hum in response - he's immediately concerned like "you alright, darlin?", and you're like "yeah. just tired. i'll take these two drinks back if you can get the others. cheers" and walk back to the table. he can tell there's definitely something up with you, but he can't tell what specifically; there's no way you're jealous, right? no, must be something else (🙄). he asks when you get back to the flat and wordlessly take your shoes off in the hall, before you can go to your room and slam the door - he's like "darlin, i know you're upset with me, and i want you to tell me why so i can properly address it, please. was it me explaining the video? i didn't mean to make you feel like i think you're daft, you're the smartest person i know. i'm sorry if i came across like that", and you sigh like "it's not that. it's just..." and you think of how best to phrase it without giving yourself away before continuing like "i think i feel a bit left out". not a lie, because you want him to look at YOU in your underwear and not some random model, and matty just nods and says "because this is the first 75 vid you haven't been on set for?", and you're like "mhmm yes that's it. just felt out of the loop! exactly". he hugs you and apologises, and you feel better after the contact; even better when he looks at you softly and says "you know, you look really beautiful today, if you don't mind me saying" (and you don't), because shocker! he was wishing you were the one he was looking at the whole time too! god you two are so stupid in the early days lol. cute though <3

[idontplaytrack]

Hii can I request some Amber Appleton x reader? Where reader and Amber have been best friends since they were little and reader has had a crush on Amber for a while, with a cute confession and maybe some smut?

Nothing but joy

Amber Appleton x fem! reader

Warnings: some coarse language, smutty ending, implied messy home life, implied/slight descriptions of ocd symptoms after major illness

“But did you know that I loved you? Or were you not aware? You're the smile on my face. And I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm here to make you happy, I'm here to see you smile. I've been wanting to tell you this for a long while.” — Fall, Justin Bieber

(Reader and Amber kinda gave me Daisy and Aza vibes the more I wrote this draft lol)

Sighing, Amber wipes down the tables in the donut shop while Lloyd was in the back making a new batch of donuts for the second half of the day. Amber’s shift had just begun, while yours at the nearby diner had just ended. So, you made your way over to the donut shop to pay her a visit. “Hey, Ams!” You exclaimed, bursting through the doors happily.

“Hey! Hi, y/n.” Amber’s face lit up the second she saw you and heard your voice, “How was your day?”

“Quite a few snappy customers today so that wasn’t too fun. Tips were pretty good, and it wasn’t too busy. So…good, I guess?”

She chuckles, folding up the rag and putting it away. “That’s good, least you have an off day tomorrow. Me too, we can go out, or just stay in and hang out.”

“Right! God, we finally have off days at the same time.” You gasped.

“y/n! I thought I heard your voice.” Lloyd walks out from the back, “Good to see ya. You want a donut?”

“Hey, Lloyd.” You waved, “Is that even a question? Of course I do.”

“Good point.” He laughs, “Take your pick.”

“I’ll have an old fashioned.” You decided.

He puts that into a bag and hands that to you, “There you go.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, taking the bag. While Amber served a customer who’s just walked in, you stood off to the side and chatted with Lloyd for a little while.

“So have you decided when you’re going to—”

You shushed him in a panic because Amber was only several feet away from you. “No.” You mouthed exaggeratedly.

“You have nothing to be worried about.” Lloyd says.

“Worry about what?” Amber asks, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

You glared at Lloyd for his statement, “This…work thing. They might be laying off a couple people.” You had to lie. You couldn’t do it— no, you couldn’t say it.

“You’re one of the best where you work.” Amber shrugs, “I think you’ll be just fine.”

You laughed awkwardly, “But if I do get fired, are you still hiring, Lloyd?”

“We’ll make an exception for you, y/n.” Lloyd replies nonchalantly.

“I’ll hold you to that, this bitch needs a job.”

“Don’t call yourself that!” Amber gasps, slightly horrified.

You bite back a laugh, analysing the donut that you held in your hand before taking a bite. “Oh, perfection.” You sigh, “I’ve missed this.”

“Yeah, why weren’t you here for two weeks?” Lloyd recalls.

“Got sick and miserable. I got a cold, which turned into pneumonia.”

“Shit.” Lloyd’s eyes went wide at your revelation, “I’m sorry that must’ve been rough.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You nod, “But I am now back and better than ever.”

“Heck yeah.” Amber agrees, chuckling over her words.

You hung around for a bit, rather than going home because you preferred to be away from home. Lloyd didn’t mind it, Amber loved having you around while she worked. She loves your company— even if you were just sitting there.

“You’re sure it’s alright if I just stay here for a few hours to do my homework? My parents were yelling all morning— I don’t want to go back there so early.”

“Don’t worry about it, I already told you it was okay. Come by whenever, remember?” Lloyd promised.

“Okay.” You nodded firmly, “Thank you. I will uh, order something this time.”

“Just tell me what you want.” He says, “Don’t try paying either of us, that’s not gonna work.”

“Lloyd.” You huffed.

“y/n.” He mocked.

Unbeknownst to you, while you two were busy squabbling, Amber already started making your favourite drink from this place. And once you and Lloyd quiet down, Amber pushes the paper cup in front of you. “Okay, you can get started on your homework now. Lloyd, take the counter, please? I need to use the restroom.”

“Oh, sure.” Lloyd agreed without a fuss.

You got out your worksheets— your homework for this weekend and your pencil case, already to work when Lloyd whisper-shouted, “Talk to her!”

“Stop bringing that up!” You glared at him, now clearly annoyed.

“Talk to her.” He repeated in a similar tone.

“Shh!” You shushed him, “I’m busy.”

He sighs then laughs, but ultimately left you alone to do your work while he did his. Amber returns a few minutes later when a rush started so neither of them could talk to you even if they wanted to.

————

Later, when Lloyd lets Amber go for her dinner break, you decided you were done with schoolwork for the day and kept the whole mess into your backpack.

“I’m going for my break, Lloyd!”

“I know, Amber! Enjoy your break! Go.” Lloyd hurries her out of the shop. You left your backpack in the lockers at the back of this place and left with Amber to go have dinner nearby.

“What do you wanna eat?” Amber asks, her arm slung across your shoulder. You tensed up and were praying she didn’t feel that.

————

Standing right next to a booth, you hesitated sitting down. Fingertips on the table, but you quickly retracted them, balling your fist. “Amber, could you take this side? I want to be nearer to the restroom.”

“Of course.” Amber shrugs, swapping places with you and sat down, immediately looking through the menu. You followed suit, staring at the menu blankly— you already knew what you were going to get. You always ordered the same thing from here. You liked what you always got, why change things when all was good, right?

After the food was ordered, the silence that fell between you and Amber felt tense. So fucking tense to you, maybe it was just you. Because Lloyd’s voice in your head going ‘Talk to her!’, kept repeating itself. Bouncing your leg and picking at the corner of your thumb, your eyes darted to look out the window, swiftly avoiding Amber’s gaze. “Hey.” Her voice pulls you back a tad. You still don’t look at her though, instead focused on a particular leaf in a tree that was blowing in the wind, almost falling out and flying away.

“y/n.” She says, “y/n? What’s the matter?”

Chewing on your lower lip, the picking at the corner of your thumb got forceful as a breath starts to get stuck in your throat, “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, actually.” Amber says, noticing clear signs of her statement, “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.” You spat out hurriedly.

‘I can’t do that. I can’t talk to her now. What if she knows? What if she’s just testing me? What if Lloyd told her? What if she’s just waiting for me to screw up and then she’ll cut me off? Stop being my friend?’

“I— I gotta go to the bathroom. Sorry.” You excused yourself and nearly stumbled out of the booth.

Desperately trying to take some deep breaths, you were staring at yourself in the mirror. You hated this look right now— you hated seeing yourself this way. But, it happens. Now more often than ever. Ever since you got sick and had to spend time in the hospital. That place now absolutely terrified you. What you had to see, what you had to hear, what you had to feel. God, that was—

‘Okay. Okay. Get it together, y/n. Breathe, get it together. Get outta here. Don’t keep her waiting.’

Somehow, you managed to calm yourself down and went back to the booth. Seconds later, the food arrives. “Thanks!” Amber told the wait staff. “No problem, enjoy your meal.”

Amber dropped the subject of ‘what’s the matter’ and left you alone for the remainder of her shift. You sat in a corner, doodling in your sketch pad, occasionally staring out the window or at nothing in particular. Every now and then, you did get up to use the restroom so she wasn’t too concerned. Yet.

Around 8 in the evening, Lloyd presented you with another beverage. You thanked him for it, barely paying any attention to him. “You good?”

“Eh.” You shrug, “A lot going on in my head right now.”

“You…wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fine. Another donut?”

“Sure, that’d be nice, Lloyd. Thanks.”

At 10, Amber finishes her shift. She takes you to her apartment, having a pretty good guess that you didn’t want to be home. Once you brushed your teeth with a spare toothbrush that was yours (she got it for you), you practically crashed and only woke up the next morning. Then, however, Amber made you talk to her. But you just shut your mouth and kept quiet. “You’ll have to talk somehow.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sighed, voice faltering.

You went back to her bed, hiding under the covers. She bites back a chuckle, her hand finding its way to your back giving it a soothing rub, “Hey, come on. Blanket off, y/n. We gotta talk about it.”

“I’m scared, no.” You breathed shakily.

“What, baby?” Amber asks softly, “You can tell me anything.”

You sighing, pushing the blanket off yourself. “You know how awhile ago, you asked me if I liked anyone? I said no but I actually do. I was just…honestly trying to lie to myself that I didn’t. That I didn’t have feelings…for you. I thought if I kept telling myself that I didn’t like you, I would start to believe it. But the truth is…I’ve been miserable trying to change myself even though it’s impossible.”

“Oh, baby.” Amber held your face in her hands, lightly squishing your cheeks as she swiped the tears away, “I— I’m— oh my God, I like you, too, y/n.” She was on the verge of tears herself but had the biggest smile on her face that you were staring to mirror as the relief washed over you.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you maintained the eye contact as you felt a shift in the mood. Swallowing harshly, you ask, “Can I give you a kiss?”

“Yes.” Amber sniffed, closing her eyes as she smoothly leaned closer to you. Your lips and hers merged into one, gentle and warm as you felt a swarm of butterflies in your chest. Her hands roam, softly pushing you down on her mattress. “We can just not do anything, okay? Do you want this?”

“Yeah.” You confirmed, “I do.”

Amber’s hand reached under your shirt upon hearing your reply, starting to grope you and rile you up. She chuckles, barely away from your face, “I love you.”

You couldn’t stop that smitten smile on your face when you told her back, “I love you, too.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N: Still at work, but I got it done since it’s slow rn. Hope y’all enjoyed <3

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 It turns out that Mary isn't as experienced as you first assumed he was, but that's not the only surprise you're going to get. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 First Kiss 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Mary Goore x GN!Reader 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 No smut here, Mary has long blonde hair in this one because I said so, Mary is inexperienced, first kiss (obviously), I made a bad pun about ghosting that I find absolutely hilarious (anyone who says it's not funny is wrong actually). 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1439 words. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 I'm still in pain from yesterday but don't worry y'all, I'm still giving you a Mushy may fic today. I've only briefly proofread this to make sure I don't use gendered terms or pronouns for reader but if I've missed any please let me know and I'll fix it! 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫

Out of the two of you, you’d expected Mary to have been the most experienced when it came to relationships and sex. Not that you hadn’t had any experience, of course. You’d dated a couple of people in school, fooled around in college, and as an adult you’d had your share of one night stands and a couple of serious relationships. You’d assumed it had been the same for Mary, especially considering he was in a band and seemed to have fans throwing themselves at him regularly enough at the bar after gigs that would have been more than happy to share a bed with him. So, when you and Mary were actually talking about relationships one night at his apartment you were surprised to be told otherwise.

“That’s bullshit!”

Mary snorted. “Why? Do I seem like I’d lie about that kind of thing?”

“Of course not. You just… I don’t know. You’re hot, you’re talented, you’re cool. I’d have thought at least one person would have kissed you by now.”

“Well, they haven’t.” They shrugged, tearing off a corner of garlic bread and plopping it in their mouth before they continued talking. “I wasn’t all that popular at school, and I was more focused on the band and writing music and keeping a roof over my head. I didn’t really stop to consider when I wanted my first kiss or who it would be with.”

Smiling, you plucked a couple of fries from the greasy takeout box and dipped them in barbecue sauce. “Come on, there must be someone you wanted to have your first kiss with.”

“Nope.”

You caught the reddening of the tops of his ears and the blush just starting to creep into his cheeks. “Lies. There’s totally someone you want to kiss, I can tell. Who is it? Is it someone I know?”

Mary wrinkled their nose and looked away, long blonde hair falling and obscuring their face. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Now shut up and eat before the food gets cold.”

Taken aback, you averted your gaze and stared down at the food laid out on the coffee table. You’d both pitched in to buy yourselves some pizza and other various bits of takeout for the night while you watched a movie, but even though your stomach felt empty your hunger had quickly dissipated at their tone. The blonde was almost never snappy with you. In fact, you were one of the only people that they hadn’t gotten into a spat with in the four years you’d known each other.

The tension that had emerged in the air was stifling as you forced yourself to eat your food, both of you remaining silent save for the odd comment about something happening in the movie.

***

You hated the bar. The people in there always leered at you, watching you with predatory eyes every time you visited. If it were possible, you’d have waited until Mary got off work and just called or texted them instead. However, you’d been given no choice when they left all your messages on read and let your calls go to voicemail for the past four days. This was the first time you’d ever gotten into an argument with the blonde and you weren’t even sure if this was a fight. It was less fight and more flight, Mary avoiding and ignoring you every time you tried to communicate.

And it fucking sucked.

Trying to shrug off the feeling of being watched, you approached the bar and were relieved to see Mary was on shift, their long blonde locks tied back into a ponytail. You waited until they’d served their current customer before walking over to where they’d just stood, hands on your hips.

“Huh. That’s funny.”

He frowned. “What?”

You made a point of looking him up and down, leaning in to pinch his cheek. “I thought you were dead seeing as you’ve been ghosting me. Assumed you were just floating around back here in spirit form, wailing and waving some spooky chains.”

Mary swatted your hand away, trying and failing not to smile. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“No. What’s ridiculous is you ignoring me for four days without telling me what I’ve done wrong.” You rested your elbows on the bar, looking up at him expectantly. “So, spill. I’m not leaving until you explain what I’ve done so I can apologise and try to make it up to you.”

The blonde bit his lip, glancing over at one of the other bar staff. “Wait here for a moment.”

Before you could say anything in response, they strolled over to their co-worker, and you watched them talk. The colleague glanced at you briefly, giving an awkward wave, before turning back to Mary and nodding. Mary looked over at you and gestured for you to follow them before slipping out from behind the bar and towards the staff only area.

The staff room was small and harshly lit, but it was also cosy. A couple of sofas, a little kitchenette, and some lockers took up a lot of the space. You felt a swell of pride when you saw the poster, you’d made for Repugnant hanging up proudly on the wall above the sofa that Mary plopped themselves down on, patting the cushion beside them.

“Look,” you started as you sank into the seat beside him. “I don’t want our friendship to be ruined because of what happened the other night, okay? I really like you and spending time with you, and I don’t–”

Your eyes widened at the soft press of lips against yours. Of all the possible outcomes you’d thought of for tonight, Mary kissing you wasn’t one of them.

It took a moment for you to respond, eyes fluttering closed as you shakily took hold of the front of his shirt and kissed him back. There was nothing sexual behind it, for you or for him. There was just the movement of your lips against his, Mary letting you take the lead as you tilted your head and gave an experimental swipe of his bottom lip with your tongue. He quickly leaned back, panting and staring at you with a panicked expression.

“Shit. Uh…” Their face turned a pretty shade of dark pink as they hastily looked away. “I probably should have asked first. Sorry.”

The full realisation of what had just happened struck you, hard. Mary gave you their first kiss.

You weaved your fingers through theirs, squeezing their hand. “Don’t be sorry. Please.”

Their eyes briefly flickered up to yours before darting away again. “If you don’t feel the same way for me then that’s fine. I didn’t really think I had a chance with you, but I’ve wanted to do that for a few months now and when you asked me the other night, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to get up and leave and our friendship be over just like that.”

Cupping their chin with your free hand, you gently turned their head so that they were looking at you once more. “And who said you don’t have a chance with me, hm? Because I know I certainly didn’t.”

“Oh, well, nobody did. I just assumed–”

“Yeah, you’re damn right you assumed.” You released their face and were relieved when they didn’t try to look away again. “You could’ve asked me out on a date at any point and I’d have said yes immediately. I trust you a lot more than I trust a lot of other people, especially the customers out in the bar. You treat me with so much respect and care and it’s so easy to talk to you. You make me laugh harder than anyone else does and you’re always there when I need someone to talk to. And just so you know, I’ve wanted to kiss you for some time now too.”

Mary nodded quietly, processing your words before he responded. “Okay. Well, in that case, do you wanna… go out sometime? On a date, I mean. Not like, go out in general. You go outside every day for work. And to do groceries. And to visit me at work. And–”

This time you were the one to surprise him and pecked his lips, beaming. “A date with you sounds perfect.”

Mary grinned and pulled you into a hug, arms crushing you in his embrace as he tackled you onto your back on the sofa and the two of you burst into a bout of giggles.

You couldn’t wait to take him on his first date.

[helyiios]

Inspired by that prompt from Snovyda, imagine Ethan finding Benji after he actually has tried to kill himself (if you’re comfortable of course, no worries if you aren’t)

TW : description of SH

There are a few things that scare Ethan Hunt. Eating too much junk food is one of them, along with reliving the loss of his first IMF team, having to go through the pain of seeing them die in front of his eyes without being able to do anything, to see the light fade from their eyes and their figures slump, cold against him.

Benji had been odd for the entire day...snappy, rude, even fully mean. He'd screamed at Brandt and slammed his coffee against a wall after messing up the same line of code three times, and he'd almost punched an analyst who'd had the bad idea to look out for him to get help about some data issue.

Which was worrying Ethan, were it not a little bit frightening him, too. It wasn't like he'd never seen Benji angry—the man had given him displays of displeasure plenty of times in their friendship, and it always took him aback, because there was a softness in his eyes that didn't quite fit the harshness of his words. But today was different, he could feel it.

He could feel it, and when Benji hadn't answered Brandt when he'd asked the team to get drinks, he'd started feeling uneasy. Then he hadn't answered Jane, Luther, and then Ethan had tried calling him, as a last resort, and the line had gone dead.

Working at the IMF means he's good at many things usual people are not, and that translates with him picking up his friend's door at 2 in the morning, the relentless ice cold of D.C's weather clawing at this skin as he was working his magic, finally feeling the locks give in.

It was the first time he'd gone into Benji's flat, actually, and he doesn't exactly know what to expect. It's big, for one, but he doesn't exactly know where his friend stands on the whole money thing. Surely the IMF pays well, especially when you're a field agent. But he did not have the same pay when he'd started, and he'd had this flat for at least 15 years. Which, hey. Maybe Benji had always been rich.

"Benj ?" he asks carefully, trying to see if there was any noise betraying the other's presence, "are you there ?"

Nothing.

He makes his way into the living room, surprised to see the lights turned off fully, save for the dim TV screen that was displaying a show he could not pinpoint, barely flooding the cold Chinese takeout in blueish light. The kitchen was bare, and the fridge was open, revealing one opened can of beer sadly tipped over the edge. He goes over to close it.

It's cold, he notes, and then sees that all the windows were open.

Don't panic, he swallows, forcing himself to go look over them, praying to every gods above to not find the other's body crumpled on the ground, covered in blood.

Nothing.

Good.

"Benji ? It's Ethan. I...I wanted to check up on you. You weren't picking up your phone."

Silence.

There's another quite massive room to his left, and the entire thing is covered in some trendy Hi-Fi stereos, along with four computers screens bathed in purple LEDs, close to a large chair and a rainbow lighted keyboard. He smiles to himself, appreciating the ambiance of the room.

Still no Benji.

There's something that tells him that he isn't in his room. It's a gut feeling he's been trying to ignore for the entirety of his trip to the flat, but the shivers on his body are impossibly to put aside now, and he feels his jaw tense.

Benji is okay, he tries to convince himself. Maybe he left in a hurry. Maybe he's out with friends.

You do not have friends, when you're working at the IMF. At least, not other than your colleagues.

He doesn't want to go to the bathroom.

He doesn't, because he knows the trope. He knows the clichés. He hates that he can see a faint light from under the room's door.

"Benji," he says again, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to come in."

He tries the handle. Locked.

It should take him 30 seconds to make his way in, but his fear gets the best of him.

What will he find, in there ? Does he want to know ?

He's so scared.

His hands are shaking when he finally pulls it open, and the scene in front of him is worse than anything he'd come up with.

He stumbles backwards, covering his mouth with his left hand, his breath dying in his throat.

Benji is slumped on the ground, surrounded by a small pool of blood, a pool that was overflowing from his left arm, the arm that was sliced in tens of small cuts, some larger than others, some red, some white, some across—

One along.

A long one, spreading from his wrist to the middle of his forearm, was bleeding out profusely, and Ethan screams out.

This shouldn't be happening.

This should not be happening.

I should have never left him alone.

"BENJI !" he yells, taking the other's face in his hands and checking for a pulse—faint, but present—and grabbing the first roll of toilet paper he can find to dabs at the scars, feeling his heart give out when the soaking overtakes the white immediately, too much, to deep, too red. "BENJI, WAKE UP, PLEASE, BENJI !"

How long had he been there ?

Some of the scars were already dry.

Blood dries in around an hour.

No.

"Fuck—FUCK !" he chokes out, taking out his phone and slamming the three numbers on the screen, trying to help with the hemorrhage, helpless, watching his friend's face pale more and more, feeling his pulse dim.

He should've never left him alone.

[9-1-1, what is your emergency ?] 

Finally.

"It's my friend," he wheezes, trying to keep the tears away from his voice, "my friend, he's—he's in his bathroom, he's cut himself, I think—I think he tried—" breathes in, Ethan, "I think he's tried to kill himself, I'm trying to keep the blood in but it—there's a lot, and—"

[Okay, sir, does your friend have a pulse ?]

"Yes, yes, a small one, but it's fading, and I—"

[Alright, we're sending you an ambulance, can you give us the address ?]

Everything after this fades out.

He stares at Benji's unmoving face as he gives the informations, holds his hand, and it's so cold, and lifeless, and he feels burning tears trail their way along his cheeks, and slumps on him and cries, and cries, and begs him to wake up.

He begs him to show him his blue and golden eyes once again, to scream at him, to insult him, look at him annoyedly, anything, he'll take anything, please,

Benji, you're not supposed to be so cold, he whimpers, sobs shaking his entire body, you're the sun, you're not supposed to be so cold.

Wake up, Benji, please, for me ? Wake up.

Wake up.

There are stocks of bloodied toilet paper lying on the ground by the time help comes, and he's forcefully pulled from him as the other is lifted on an ambulance stretcher, and he says, yes, I'm his best friend—I need to come with you, please, I need to make sure he's okay.

"Sir, we need to know," one of the paramedics asks, and their voice is so soft it makes him violent, "is it the first time you found him like that ?"

Yes. Yes.

"Yes," he harshly replies in between the tears, "I don't know how—I—"

"There are other, older scars on his arms, this is not a one time thing. Hopefully this is the first and last time it's gone to such lengths."

No, he can't have other scars.

Benji can't have been doing this to himself.

Benji...Benji is—

"I didn't know," Ethan sniffles, voice high pitched, rubbing the unforgiving tears from his blood stained cheeks, "I didn't know, I didn't—"

"It's alright, sir," the paramedic, bless them, whispers back, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You friend is going to be okay. We're going to help him."

I would rather have to face a new nuclear threat tomorrow than have to see Benji like this anytime more.

Stay with me. Stay with me.

[explodingchantry]

After a few hours into my Dao replay I think I'm starting to really warm up to the gameplay trailer for dav, and indeed its more action oriented combat.

Something I think a lot of us, especially those of us who are a bit apprehensive, are struggling with is that we haven't replayed dragon age in... A while. We have this idea of what it was like but personally my last playthrough was soon after trespasser released. I think we ourselves, unless you're one of the people whose replayed all three games very recently, aren't the best place to decide what dragon age should 'feel' like

Dao is absolutely brilliant and it's combat system is so in depth, the fact that me and a lot of people always complain about how difficult it is just means that it was a system directed towards more strategy oriented people. The little strategy options for the companions, you know the menu not a lot of us use in Dao and da2, where you can tell a companion "if this happens, do that" is a fucking marvel, it's so smart, it's so efficient, it offers so much control it genuinely is amazing. But the thing is that I don't think the core player base of dragon age ended up being the players who used that a ton.

Something you feel a lot especially replaying Dao with modern sensibilities, is sluggishness. You have to remember that it IS a real time action rpg - this means that reactivity is pretty important and even though the other Dao systems make you feel like you're wholly in control, the animations themselves as well as hit boxes and general... Feel of combat doesn't bring that across. It feels like playing an old mmo. It's absolutely fine and expected for its time, but expecting something similar in our modern era is foolish.

If bioware was going to keep the real time fighting, which, I would've been shocked and disappointed if they didn't, they had to make it more snappy and reactive. Furthermore as a bunch of people have pointed out the trailer specifically shows rogue which is THE most snappy bouncy class there is, at least with the double dagger. But we still have our pause. We still get to tell our companions what to do. And with so much work put everywhere else to "get back to their roots" it would be strange of bioware to completely abandon it just for the combat system

Something that did bother me in the trailer is how few abilities seemed available at one time and also the fact you couldn't see your companions' health bar: it seems they confirmed you can see the health bars on discord, and as for the abilities and the hud... I think it might just be a product of them showing console gameplay, because I saw some Dao console gameplay earlier today and was like. Oh. That looks similar. And there isn't necessarily any worries to have about them choosing to show console gameplay - statistically speaking I'm positive the majority of gamers these days are console gamers, and with how beautiful the game seems I imagine it'll put most computers to their fucking knees, and the amount of people who have access to up to date gaming computers is lower than you think. It makes sense from a marketing standpoint to use console gameplay. Keep hold of your knickers

I've personally no problem with a more stylised approach to the graphics either because I've always been of the opinion that inquisition looks like garbage and it aged even worse than I expected. It's so fucking ugly bro I hate how frostbite engine looked back then it's disgusting LMFAO.

I've even seen people critiquing the look of minrathous even though it's fairly consistent with what we'd seen of tevinter so far... I think people forget that in Dao, dragon age really didn't have as much of an artistic identity as it has now - really Dao in many ways looks like usual your dark fantasy game. So many elements that would become emblematic of dragon age only came in later games. Do I really need to bring up flemeth or the qunari lol, or the many looks elves and their vallaslins have had over the years.

Like dragon age's visual and artistic identity has always shifted with every game. There's literally nothing wrong with that. It's just par for the course course. You can't have a long running series of fantasy games with lore as complex as dragon age without stumbling here and there over such a large amt of year, mediums and teams.

As for the fucking idiots complaining about the game not being dark enough idk replay any of the games for like 5 minutes and then come back. Well maybe not dai that game is boring as hell most of the time but either way dragon age was always silly as hell y'all are so fucking stupid. Go watch game of thrones or something instead

I think I'm saying all that because I've seen a lot of negativity for the sake of being negative. A lot of people went into this expecting to be upset, so obviously they ended up upset. And I know it's so fucking hard: inquisition was already a mess in many ways, most of the original dragon age staff left, there were major layoffs which we should not forget about, the game was restarted I think twice or something, and in general it's had a bit of a messy development. That and the horrors that were me:a and anthem, and of course people wouldn't have faith in bioware. But it's not the first time a game studio went a dangerous path only to have a moment of clarity and come back. I've personally seen it when a few years back devil may cry 5 came out and was the best game in the franchise, going back to its roots and bettering what was already there with bold steps towards modernizing its gameplay, when all fans thought the franchise dead and buried. I want to believe bioware is able to have such a comeback as well.

What is transpiring from many of the articles, from the little tidbits of the staff on twitter, from interviews - it's that there's heart in this. It's that they're trying. They've listened. And maybe I'm just falling for the marketing machine, but I'd rather believe and be disappointed than live with no hope in my heart man. Dragon age is a series that means so much to me. We've waited so long for this. I want this to be something I can love.