#its so much easier than breaking your own heart all the time but absolutely

[rafesangelita]

Rafe visiting sweetheart pogue reader after knowing her better at her little bake shop she works at and they get to talking and she confesses its her absolute dream to open and run her own bake shop and he buys her a little cute shack to start her business off !!! 💕💕

warnings: super sweet fluff, sexual tension that rafe has to force himself not to act on

a/n: this came out longer than i wanted it to, but i loveeee writing for pogue!sweetheart!reader so much, pls send reqs for her if you’d like <3

it was a rather slow day at the icecream shop, so when you heard that little ding! indicating that someone had walked in, you were more than happy to see none other than rafe. “hey!” you chirped, adjusting the pink apron that currently hugged your waist.

“are you the only one working?” he walked up to the counter, your bright smile making his heart beat wildly in his chest. “yeah..” you trailed off, looking over to your manager’s office, “maybe i could ask for a quick break so we could talk?” rafe nodded. “i’d like that.”

he waited until you disappeared before he flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned the small lock on the door, so you two could converse without any interruptions. “okay!” you walked back up front. “favorite flavor?” rafe’s mind went blank as you reached for something, your skirt riding up your thighs as you did so.

“uhm- uh, rocky road is good.” you finally grasped the cups you were looking for, beaming at rafe’s response. “i love that one, too! but strawberry cheesecake has been my go to for a while now.” rafe didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring hard, but he found that it was rather difficult when you were around him.

he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone so sweet and bubbly and charming as you are, could also be so unintentionally sexy at the same time. “rafe?” you snapped him out of his trance, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “here we are.” you walked around the counter, placing the cups of icecream down on a nearby table.

you reached behind you as rafe took a seat, your nails not allowing you to untie the knot you made in the strings of your apron. “what’s wrong?” he looked up at you in confusion. “my apron is a little stuck..” you turned, backing up until you stood been his legs. “can you untie this for me please? i just got my nails done and i did it a bit too tight.”

rafe was going insane. here you were in a mini skirt, potentially giving him a full view of everything that was underneath as you coyly waited for him to ‘help you out’. “sure, yeah-” he cleared his throat, hands coming up to fiddle with the strings that stopped just above the curves of your ass.

once he had it off, you sighed, taking the seat across from him. “where are you coming from?” rafe was still flustered when you took your spoon in your mouth, his eyes following the way your lips wrapped around the damned thing. “work, actually.” he blinked away, zeroing in all his focus elsewhere.

“really? what do you do?” now it was your turn to watch him, the veins on his arms making you lick your lips. “construction. it’s my dad’s business.” you nodded, trying to push the image of rafe all hot and sweaty from working outside, out of your head. “so you’re a handy man?” you teased, unintentionally tapping your foot against his leg.

“i know my way around.” you caught rafe looking at your lips, a shy smile taking over your feautures. “i wish i had those skills, it’d make things so much easier for me.” you raised your eyebrows. “how so?” he leaned forward. “well.. it might sound dumb, but it’s my dream to open my own little bakery. the problem is; i don’t know where to start, i don’t know who i have to get in contact with for licensing and permit stuff, and i definitely don’t know how to install any kind of kitchen appliances.”

rafe thought for a moment.

“do you have a certain location in mind?” he asked. you hummed, shaking your head. “no, i don’t care where it is. i’d just like a bigger space.” rafe nodded. “that doesn’t sound dumb by the way,” you looked up, “i think it’s neat that you want to open up your own business. the entire island will be over the moon once they find out they can get those chocolate chip cookies whenever they want.”

you had never shared that information with anyone, but by the way rafe responded, you were glad it was him that you spilled it to. rafe saw the small flash of sadness pass through your eyes before you shook it off. “one day..” just as you were about to check the time, your manager walk out of her office. “closing shop early today, do you mind helping me out real quick?” without hesitation, you got up from your seat.

“wait for me?” you gave rafe your icecream and apron to go outside with.

“of course.”

-

over the next two weeks, you found yourself by rafe’s side, whether he was following you around while you made sales, or helping you bake, you two seemed to be attached at the hip. “are you working tomorrow?” rafe currently sat on the floor of your camper, leaning against the lace-trimmed cushions of your pull out couch. “nope!” you offered him a spoon of buttercream to taste test, watching as he took his digit in his mouth.

“goddamn, that’s amazing,” rafe gave you a thumbs up, “but anyways— i was asking because i have a surprise for you.” placing the bowl of frosting on the counter, you turned. “oh?” you sat down, his head resting against the side of your knee. “i think you’ll really like it.” rafe kept his eyes down in his lap. “can i guess what it is?” he shook his head, “i won’t tell you if you’re right or wrong.”

sighing in defeat, you and rafe spent the rest of the night decorating cookies and taking turns shuffling songs until he was ready to head back home. “i’ll be here to pick you up in the morning, ‘that sound okay?” he was leaning against your doorframe, your fingertips itching to reach out for him. “mhmm, thank you for all your help today..” you stepped closer, swallowing thickly as he rested a hand in the curve of your neck.

even though rafe wanted to kiss you and feel your lips on his, he settled for a peck on your temple, which you were more than happy to receive. “goodnight, y/n.” he waved before getting in his truck and driving away. locking the door shut, you couldn’t help the pout that graced your lips at your now empty, quiet, camper.

eager to know what rafe wanted to surprise you with, you were quick to get ready for bed, forcing yourself to go to sleep before having to wake up and get ready.

“promise you’re not peeking?” you giggled, your hands resting on top of rafe’s as he guided you to some unknown location. “i promise!” finally, rafe came to a stop, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of his body pressing against your backside.

“okay, go ahead and open.” you were buzzing with excitement, your mouth falling agape once your vision cleared. there, in front of you sat a perfect little shack, the word ‘sold’ on a red banner adorning the front. you blinked, slightly confused. “this is so cute! did you buy it or something?” rafe nodded, his mouth falling to your ear.

“it’s yours.”

you took a minute to process his words, letting go of a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. “rafe..” he placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. “a couple weeks ago you said it was your dream to have your own bakery but you didn’t know where to start, this is your starting point.” your eyes were watering now as you looked up at the man in front of you.

“i don’t think i can accept this.” you laughed, butterflies swarming your tummy when rafe wiped your tears. “you can, and you will.” you couldn’t hold back anymore, throwing your arms around him. rafe wasn’t used to this feeling in his chest, but he knew it felt right.

“it still needs to be renovated, but i talked to my dad and he agreed cameron development will cover everything.” you pulled away, dumbfounded. “i- why?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “why not? you deserve it.” sniffling, you looked back at the shack, already envisioning the place up and running. “i can’t thank you enough, rafe.” you couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that rafe, let alone anyone, would do something like this for you.

“we’ll get to that later,” he winked, making you laugh, “should we go pick out a paint color?”

[thatfrailsoul]

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P.s. See the full painting at the end!♡

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Slow down for a moment. Allow your heart to guide you, to tell you if there is really a message here for you... And whatever the answer is, feel free to listen to it or to let go. Remembering that when you will be ready or will have the need, your true message will find its way to you.♡

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Yes. Because, even though it's unfair, even though it was so overwhelmingly painful and challenging - it was necessary. Because you're so persistent and ready to fight for what you love, for what you consider right... that you would've never been able to let it go. To see the reality, understand and accept the fact that it was more harmful than right for you. That situation. That decision. That person. The ones that the world decided to protect you from, stepping in when you needed it the most. Even if you are starting to realize it only now. Now that, not so gently but for your own good, you were pushed away. Into a new and different phase of your life.

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Even though this journey was always meant to end... Its transformation into that battle that you've had to endure was not the way it was supposed to happen. Your heart, so powerful, convinced and ready to fight for what it feels is right... Was too strong this time. Had too much resilience to make this work, no matter how, no matter how much you would've need to try. And although there is absolutely nothing wrong with it... Sometimes it's exactly this desire and perseverance that makes us lose sight of the reality and what is right.

Especially, when we are running from our past, determined to don't make the same mistakes that scared us so much. To the point that it's easier to sacrifice ourselves to make everything change and adapt, then to accept that no matter how much we tried to avoid it, we found the same pain and nightmare even if in someone new, far away from the past.

But everything is alright now, even if it still hurts and every memory makes your heart tremble. You are fine now. You are safe. You escaped and found your right path once again.

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Pile Three, the six of wands

You handled it much better than you imagine. You made the right choices even if the wounds they created make you doubt. It happened. But it doesn't really matter why or how. It's already in the past, as the time keeps running and drags you with its passage. With all the new beginnings, new people, new moments and emotions that almost overwhelm your life. Not leaving you a second to process and allow yourself to take a break and realize...

But rather than being a cruel joke and coincidence, it's more of an awkward way of this world to not allow you to fall into that spiral in your mind. It's their way to not allow you to focus on anything but your strength, courage and all the things that still await you in your life.

Because the most important thing, truly, is that you are here now, and everything about what happened... is already far far away in the past. The one that you already faced and survived, and that doesn't need anymore the attention of your heart and mind.

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"The Bouquet", 1900, by Wladyslaw Czachorski.

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[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ EX-BOYFRIEND HCS (feat. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso) 

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ˋ°•*⁀➷  tags: angsty, mentions of break ups, mentions of make ups, mentions of commitment issues, I’m keeping all of this kind of vague.  

ˋ°•*⁀➷  notes: decided to finally edit up this post that I wrote xo I hope you enjoy it! feedback/reblogs are always appreciated <3 

wc: 1,204

gojo:

he understood why you ended things with him. he’s not an easy man to love, he doesn’t exist in a world where a life can simply be built. he didn’t fight you on your decision or beg you to change your mind. there is nothing he can offer in return which is why he conceded in letting you go, even though the choice destroyed him beyond comprehension. this is the first time he’s ever felt truly broken and he chooses not to cross paths with you for the sake of his own wellbeing. 

but still, he can never fully erase you from his life. you were his pretty light, the spark of happiness that brought him profound joy. he can’t help but succumb to an opportunity of sneaking back in, even in the smallest of ways. besides, the break up didn’t end with fighting or hateful words, it was amicable - so, why can’t he show any signs of fondness? 

these excuses come with every birthday, holiday or special occasion. you always receive a thoughtful gift wrapped up in a pretty bow. gojo never includes a card, but the way your heart seizes up tells you that it is from him. it lingers in your mind that he still thinks about you, even though you are trying to move on. your heart fights you on every decision you make. you would meet bachelors who would exude perfection but they don’t even come close to the man you once loved. satoru gojo may no longer hold space in your life, but the painful reality is that there’s a void inside you that only he can fill. 

geto: 

the man who stole your heart - there’s an ache in the place where the muscle once resided. he snatched it away without even knowing, and disappeared into the shadows. you don’t hear from him at all, not even a single text or a phone call. the silence is absolutely haunting - he doesn’t know the hurt is the reason why you hate him, but how its also a reminder of just how much you love him. he makes time stand still - and your world stops moving. 

suguru should know better - this way is easier (or so he thinks), he had his reasons (or so he thinks). he spends his days analyzing this decision - dissects it, pries it open and pokes at it in all angles. every conclusion leads to him acknowledging that you deserve far more than what he can give you. but still it becomes his obsession, his source of contention and irritation. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before, but why can’t he snip the last tether that’s tugging at his heart? 

it’s him showing up in the middle of the night, taking in the stunned expression on your face after months of zero contact. he holds you with so much care when he apologizes, begs you to take him back as he whispers sweet words in your ear. you’re not proud of the way you melt right into arms, or how easily you invite him to your bed. you hate that you would let him break your heart a thousand times over, not knowing that he’'ll fight to his last breath just to mend it back together. 

nanami: 

messy is the only word to describe the break up. somehow it wasn’t even a one sided decision, but a point where neither of you were willing to carry on. the heartbreaking thing is that the two of you didn’t just end a relationship, you ended an entire life together. nanami never went into anything half-assed, and that included what he shared with you. now, he sits in his new apartment, most of his things still packed in boxes, and he can’t bring himself to settle down. you were the only home he’s ever grown to love and he can’t help but think what it was about this particular fight that defined the course of your relationship.

nanami was mature about the aftermath, but his removed behavior made you feel small, made you wonder if he was truly unaffected by the pain of separation. as you divide up your life you ponder if he’s reconsidering the entire decision as well. this whole blow up felt so stupid to you now, a minor blimp in the beautiful story of your love together. you knew he wasn’t good at expressing himself in the moment, but when he finally left the key to your place behind, everything came crashing down at once. 

you both have a hard time referring to each other as exes. you both still speak about one another with such tenderness. your loved ones pushed you both into seeking each other out, but neither of you were willing to disturb the other’s peace. you’ve both done enough damage, caused enough hurt that would last a lifetime. it’s only by chance that you stumble into him at a new coffee shop - like fate itself worked hard to ensure you swung the door open just as he stepped through the threshold, that your bodies collided at the right moment so you can see the missing half of your soul in each other’s eyes. 

choso: 

“can we at least be friends?” - how were you supposed to say no after you had just broken him. this man whose sweet heart radiated nothing but gold even though his eyes were full of sadness. he didn't ask you questions as to why you felt the need to end this, didn’t push your decision even though things were going relatively well. you were so thankful because the extent to which he loved you was petrifiying. you just needed to find yourself for a moment - to catch your breath, and ground your feet after floating on air. 

it’s hard to ignore that choso shared your body and heart. your friendship is so different, and you can’t help but feel like you were tiptoeing around a minefield. he looks at you with immense hope, and that optimism weakens your will. you don’t want to sell him any dreams unless you were sure yourself. so you try your best to keep things platonic - you make sure that you are never alone with him for too long, give other suitors a chance for casual flings, and even go as far as setting choso up on a date. 

you’ve somehow convinced yourself that this is good for you both, until choso asks “do you hate me?” - it hurts seeing him break before your eyes, listening to him question you if you’re doing all this because you don’t want him around you anymore. he tells you that it hurts and you don’t know how to justify any of your actions by using your fear as an excuse. he’s given you no reason to think he won’t cherish your love, and all you can think about is making him smile. waking up tangled between the sheet with him makes you feel sick. your heart races when his arm squeezes around your waist, when his lips brush softly against the back of your neck and you’re burrowing yourself deeper into this hole with no idea how to make it out safely. 

[yandere-romanticaa]

People are hungry for this man, oh my word. Take these humble crumbs, my little doves. Also fem reader because it's easier for me.

The soft glow of the moon cascaded down on the pair as the wind blew gently, soothing the raging heart in the girl's chest.

It was hard to focus when you were oh so aware of his stare. It was so easy to picture it - ruby red eyes, lost deep in thought as they skimmed all over your body, taking in absolutely every detail they possibly could... And yet, still somehow being able to be completely aware of the surroundings or any incoming attack. Every miniscule movement of the tiniest of bugs, any scarce leaf on the ground, all of it was easy for him to spot.

That was the power of a Servant, you figured. And your Lancer had many, many things going for him.

Being a participant in the Holy Grail War was never an ambition of yours. Your family had no real standing with the other mages as it was a relatively newly established group. You never even considered yourself a particularly impressive or strong mage, just good enough to survive.

And against all odds, the Holy Grail had picked you.

The bright red command seals on your hand were a painful reminder of your bloody predicament. Danger lurked in every corner and even if you tried to hide it, the quiver in your step was painfully obvious to your Lancer. To him, you were no better than an open book. In its own way, he found that endearing.

He took a shine to you almost immediately. While he would typically prefer a more outspoken and assertive Master, he couldn't help but to stir the fire which lay dormant deep inside you. You couldn't see the strength you possessed but that was alright. He could see it, smell it, almost taste it even. He wanted to push you into above and beyond, he wished to see you at your breaking point, only to rise from the ashes anew.

Such a delicious thought. His cute little Master, who didn't have a single clue of the plans he had for her.

Times like these, he really, really, loathed being a heroic spirit. Improper thoughts came to him like breathing, it was certainly no way for a Servant to admire their Master in such a manner but the man could not help himself.

You were far too delectable for your own good.

He was going to chain you, break you, show you just how much he cared for you in the most earnest way possible. He was going to present you with the Holy Grail and make you the true victor of this war.

He was going to make you even more beautiful than you could ever imagine.

[submissivekillers]

kinktober day 4 - sensory deprivation (john kramer)

yall i wrote most of this so fast lmao?? literally banged out like 800 words in an hour yesterday n would've finished early if i didn't have to work a double (hell.) the spirit of old man fucking compelled me. also i think im into sensory deprivation now lowkey. mild tw for jigsaw-typical torture/violence but only in the first like 2 paragraphs

You had thought that you were intimately familiar with every kind of torture.

It was a knowledge you picked up quickly in the company of Jigsaw and his apprentices – they had refined it to something of an artform, in your opinion. Through careful study, you had determined exactly the amount of force necessary to snap the bones in an arm cleanly; you had calculated just how much blood a person could lose while still being able to drag themselves out of harm's way. With trial and error, you had learned how to discern the sound of screaming caused by third-degree burns from that of the agonized cries brought on by the loss of a finger, a hand, an entire limb. All these torments and more, you had learned by heart. 

And yet you think that this may be the worst of all. 

It's the unpredictability, you think; the fabric over your eyes is heavy enough that even the harsh industrial fluorescents in John's workspace can't penetrate it, and the silicone plugs in your ears block out even your own voice. You suppose that's a good thing, maybe – after he's brought you to the edge just to let you down thrice now, you're sure you must sound absolutely pathetic. Your chest heaves with staggered, gasping breaths, your lips stinging with the imprints of your teeth.   

It would be easier if he'd restrained your hands. He'd instructed you not to touch yourself, or him, and you hadn't – but your will is fraying with every passing second. You're so sensitive it hurts, threatening to tumble over the line from pleasurable to painful, even the circulating fans making you twitch and clench when the faint breeze finds its way between your thighs. Your fingernails dig into the seams of the chair beneath you so hard that you feel them pop. 

Bad enough that's he's worked you up and then abandoned you, but that's not the worst; no, it's the little touches in between that really break you down. John seems to have an uncanny ability to tell exactly when you've started to calm yourself down. Every time your breathing starts to slow and your trembling subsides, his hands are on you. Delicate touches, really no more than grazing over your skin – the ghost of his knuckles along your spine: fingertips tracing the arch of your cheekbone, teasing the plush of your bottom lip before flitting away: a gentle squeeze to the meat of your thigh. It's pathetic, how each tender brush of his hands makes your nerves spark. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, the pads of his fingers skim the curve of your shoulder, roughened from the long hours of planning and building. You suck in a stuttering breath, even that light touch sending a spasm of want through you. You think please, please, please and only belatedly realize your lips are moving. 

A pang of loss echoes in your chest when he pulls away, but before you can react his fingertips alight on your cheek instead, his thumb caressing the line of your jaw. You shudder with the effort of not pressing yourself desperately into his hand, letting him control the weight of his touch. It aches, tears threatening to dampen the fabric of your blindfold before you squeeze your eyes tightly shut. 

You feel the sigh of his breath on your skin, the knowledge of his proximity twisting beneath your ribs. When his other hand finds the line of your throat, cupping over your racing pulse, your lips part around some ragged, tremulous sound, your body singing at his touch. 

He guides you to lie against him, your temple tucked into the hollow of his throat, and the tears run freely down your cheeks. You’re breathless before he even deigns to slide a hand between your thighs, your spine arching taut at the first deliberate press of his fingers. Unthinking, you fist your hands tightly in the fabric of his sweater, praying he won't stop when you realize your transgression. 

Blessedly, mercifully, he doesn't. 

It takes embarrassingly little to bring you to orgasm; you don't think you've been in his arms longer than a minute or two before you spasm in his lap, spilling into his hand, nonsensical babbling that only John can hear streaming from your swollen lips. You're still shaking when he gently tugs the plugs from your ears, the influx of sound almost overwhelming. He keeps you blindfolded for a minute longer, guiding your hand to his chest so you can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breaths.

When you're able to match his rhythm he unties the cloth, cupping your face in his hand as you blink against the sudden light. Your skin feels sticky, trails of salt drying on your cheeks that he tenderly swipes away. His gaze is warm when you can focus on his face, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled with the curve of his thin lips. “You did very well, dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You think there must be no sound sweeter than the low rasp of his voice. “I'm proud of you.”

You beam.  

Later – after he’s washed the sweat and slick from your skin in a warm bath, curled against him in your pajamas with a water bottle and a steaming cup of tea – he asks, “Do you understand now why I say you need to learn patience?” 

You laugh, a radiant sound that starts deep in your chest. “I might need a few more lessons.”

[boyfiechan]

hiiiii

is there any chance you could do angst to fluff friends to lovers with chan with prompt 2? if not that’s ok 💕💕💕

thank you ❤️

Hi! Thank you for requesting, I kind of got a little carried away with the angst, sorry haha but please let me know what you think of it! <3

Click here to check out my prompt list.

In some way, you already knew this would happen.

Still, it made you terrified. It wasn't even the situation on its own, opening your door to him standing on the other side in the middle of one of the coldest nights of the year, looking so heartbroken and so confused that you can barely contain the need to embrace his body and confess all of the truth that, unbeknownst to him, has been eating you alive for the past few months. It was the aftermath of him learning about the secret you had tried so hard to keep hidden away, the one thing that could change absolutely everything between you two.

You fucked up, and you fucked up really bad.

Chan has been your closest friend for God knows how long at this point. You've shared so much of life together, seeing each other grow, experiencing new things, and learning about the intricacies of adult life and how complicated it is to simply exist sometimes. He was the one you always turned to—the one to drop everything and give you his complete attention when you needed to rant, the one to discuss your completely bizarre theories with, the one to call at the end of the day and share your random thoughts. The routine on nights like this would always be the same: both of you tucked under a pile of blankets on the floor of your living room, watching some sort of movie that neither of you knew anything about but decided on because the name or something in the poster was just so funny you couldn't ignore it. But it wasn't one of those nights, and it had been days since the last time he had even heard from you.

He didn't know.

And you didn't know, either. How could you even tell him how seeing him there made things so much harder than they already had been these last few weeks? How could you tell him that everything had changed, that the friendship you both adored and counted on so much would be completely ruined because your stupid, stupid heart decided to pick up on even the smallest of things he did? And now, after years of being his rock, his confidant, you betrayed it all by falling in love with him? You couldn't. It wasn't fair to him, it wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to the years and the secrets you shared with each other. It just wasn't.

And seeing him at your door, after you quickly brushed off all of his questions after accidentally picking up a call from him out of habit, you wanted to hide again. This is exactly what you have been doing since you noticed how your feelings changed towards him, after feeling your heart pick up astronomically as he simply laughed at a stupid video on his phone while you had dinner a few weeks ago. You hid away, rejecting calls, barely ever opening messages, and not answering any of them until you figured out a way to fix all of this.

What have I done? he asked so quietly you could have sworn your heart was sounding louder than his voice. His eyes searched for yours, silently begging for an explanation as to why you just left him so easily, why he's being cut away from your life all of a sudden. Please, you can't do this. Don't do this. Tell me what's wrong.

I love you, you think.

I don't know, you breathe out. You hate lying, hated lying to him even more, but it was for the best. It was easier to break your own heart than to break his.

Please don't lie to me. Please. His steps are so light and he moves so slowly you almost forget where you are. You can see his lips trembling a little, and he rubs his shaky hands as the night seems to get even colder. Can I come in? It's hard to speak. It's hard to think, even, and all you manage to do is step back as he makes his way in, barely even looking around. He doesn't go farther from the door, turning to look at you with a sort of emotion that you can't quite read on his face. What changed?

I love you. Your voice is barely there. It's hard to get it out, hard to even hear it in your own voice. The door is closed, yet your living room seems even colder than outside—you can feel his perfume and his shampoo and your heart breaking all at once and it's too much. I'm so sorry.

It's hard to look at him. It's hard to do anything, really, and your ears don't even seem to process any sound as he takes the last few steps in between you two. Somewhere in between his entrance, he took his shoes off, and as his socks come into your field of vision you notice you've been staring at the ground before you all this time.

No. Here it comes. Here's the feeling you've been avoiding for so long. Tell me to stop.

What? you know you're not sounding anywhere near stable right now.

Tell me to stop, please, or I won't be able to. It's cold inside but you can feel how warm he is, you can feel him right there, his hand searching for yours, his nose brushing against your cheek. It's so easy to get lost in it, so easy to give it all up just focusing on how his skin feels against yours as he plants a kiss on your temples, then another on your cheek, then one more on the corner of your lips. You need him there, you need him even more than you need to breathe, so you don't stop him and he doesn't stop either, finding your mouth with his and giving you exactly what you've been dreaming about all this time. It's unreasonably better than you could ever imagine, his hand suddenly cradling the back of your head as you completely melt into him.

And there's where you know everything has changed, but it doesn't terrify you anymore. Not when you can feel why he didn't even mind the cold outside, knowing damn well he must have walked all the way from his dorm to your door demanding an explanation as to why you disappeared from his life. That's when you know it all, when you can almost hear his heart beating inside his chest as you hold his face closer to yours.

That's when you know the complete truth—he loves you too.

[greenboyfriend]

pick an image! (tarot card reading)

image source ❁ image 1: an aged, leather book, with many, many pages. it makes you wonder what's inside, but due to its thickness, maybe it doesn't... ❁ image 2: a pleasant smile in the hands of gods. overlapping colorful wings form a small space in the middle. if you threw this at the wall, it'd definitely leave an imprint. ❁ image 3: a mysterious brass key. to what does its dainty swirls open? no one knows but you! how do I pick? everyone has their own method of getting in touch with their intuition. for me, when I know it's right, I feel a lightness in my chest, and when it's wrong, a pit in my stomach. don't think too much about it. whichever you choose will be right! BOOK A READING THRU DM/ASK!

1.・。.・゜✭

boy howdy, y'all.

you see the change you need to make, and yet you're still resisting? maybe you're scared of what this change will bring, but in your stagnancy, you're missing an opportunity for growth. the most important thing is that you tell the truth. right that wrong-- let everyone know what's really happening. whatever your reason for inaction might be, know that you do, in fact, possess the strength to overcome your issue(s), no matter how much you think you don't. you've already reached a major milestone, too, so why keep yourself in a box? reap that reward. you worked for it, after all! this important change will have to do with you clearing the air, speaking articulately, and being sure that you share the absolute, honest truth. consider a direction change. sure, what's gotten you here has worked wonders, but what will get you to your next goal? don't be afraid to try new things!

(7 of pentacles reversed, ace of swords reversed, king of swords, four of pentacles)

2.・。.・゜✭

whadda hell? such similar cards and yet such distinct meanings...

unlike those who chose image 1, you have not yet reached your goal. but don't worry! you're almost there!! you've just got to keep trying... easier said than done, right? it seems like you really want to give up, or are doubting yourself. this is a strong energy-- maybe you've been hurt in the past because of a similar situation, so you're refusing to acknowledge what's happening at all. maybe you don't believe in your own strength, but know that it is there. you've come all this way-- think of this as one more hurdle to jump before you take a lunch break. and what a wonderful lunch it will be, indeed!!! something that will be important will be finding out what's real and what's not. break up this complicated situation into segments and slowly analyze how all the pieces fit together. try to remain objective during this process, it is important for your future success. and finally, the scariest hurdle of all: simply having fun! you don't need to be guarded all the time, and maybe that's the lesson you're tackling right now. there's a very strong vibe of "recapturing innocence", in the (inno-) sense that you must shed the learned, knee-jerk responses of heartache. in order to feel better, you must let yourself free, but don't worry; your heart will always come back to you. don't let your inhibitions stop you from living the life you want to... need to....... deserve to live!!! so take that crazy chance and engage in unadulterated, unfiltered, unstoppable whimsy. this will be the key that takes you to new heights!!!

(ace of swords reversed-- this hoe really jumped out of the deck to see you. say hi..., the fool, 7 of pentacles reversed, king of swords)

3.・。.・゜✭

okay so everyone's going through it. okay

god damn. y'all really need a hug, a hot cup of cocoa, and a cat in your lap, because fuck!!! you're experiencing a betrayal. deserted in your time of need, you're left to wander far, far away from home... you will find happiness in trying new things and keeping your head up, but don't let discovery be your excuse to neglect your needs. above all else, you need to heal. this will be a time of balancing these two things: trying out new developments and changes, while also healing your emotional wounds. you may be more interested in the former than the latter. you may feel like you're too weak to face this pain, but know that hard times help redefine the person you are. it's easy to wave it all away and throw all your energy into what's new, but what will really matter when you're 75 and looking back on your life is how you treated yourself during this time. did you dutifully lick your wounds, tending to yourself as you wish someone else would? or did you discard yourself in the same way you discarded your feelings? it's a tough ask, and a bit shocking to think about, I know. but imagine looking back and feeling pride in how well you managed things, the comfort gained-- almost magically-- from yourself, and the good it did you. okay, okay im getting off my soapbox now! just know you're headed towards good things. it may be a long process, so be brave, and steady. take breaks! drink water! stand motionless in the shower for 30 minutes, it's ok if that's what you need to do cause guess what?!?! you deserve to be taken care of, especially by yourself!!!

(3 of swords reversed, ace of swords reversed, 2 of pentacles, 6 of swords reversed)

lots and lots and LOTS of love for all of you silly little geese. I wish the absolute best for you! although I don't need to hope for the best... because I know all of you will prevail!!! simply because ur interested in what ur intuition seeks to teach you. please accept my kind words even if im a stranger on the internet! please know you deserve every tender moment that life has to offer and more, because you're just a motherfucker who's out here trying their best, just like most everyone else, and oh my god no matter what anyone tells you that is enough!!!!!!! sorry. I got back on the soapbox. BUT ITS TRUE!!!

[whats-she-gonna-post-next]

So I just finished binding Trust Life by the absolutely amazing @chaiandsage (Hello, I am ready to be perceived now, I hope that I have done your story even the slightest bit of justice) and I just wanted to make a post both showing it off, and going through what I learned doing this bind because I did a few new things here and want to talk about it.

Also I'm not going to subject you all to this, so most everything but the final product here is going to be below the cut.

(Also so sorry that the photos aren't the best. I am... Very bad at photography, lmao)

Ok, so let's start off with some of the cool things I learned during this bind. Or, maybe not necessarily cool, but they are things I learned and I think that learning is cool!

First off, I learned how to download and add fonts to Microsoft Word, which while not interesting, does open up a whole world of fonts for future binds. Is it a little late in the game to have found this? Probably. But it is what it is. I actually downloaded a pretty good chunk of different ones, but the fonts I actually used were MF Love Dings for the heart motif dividers, which was a new download, and then a few standard fonts - Edwardian Script ITC for the title pages, Baskerville Old Face for the chapter headers, Book Antiqua for the chapter titles, and good old Garamond for the actual text of the novel.

Here is the divider and the title fonts. I just think they are neat.

Another thing I learned was how to make book cloth! I found these squares of white cotton fabric at a dollar tree and decided to give it a go. The way I did mine was by painting them first (a task in and of itself, and as you can see on the cover, did not turn out super even, but I love them nonetheless) and then I glued down a layer of tissue paper to give it a little stiffness and make it stick to the chipboard easier, it was a super cool process and I look forward to trying it again in the future now that I have done it once and have a better idea of how I can improve in the future

And now onto some of the other cooler parts of the process!

So I had a lot of fun doing the formatting, it's my favourite part of any binding process, I cannot tell you how many fics I have formated that I have yet to print out and actually bind because I enjoy the process so much (the answer is actually 5 that are completely formatted and ready to go, 3 that I am actively in the middle of formatting, 4 projects completed - including this one, which... may technically count as 3, granted 2 of them were gifts for other people - and 3 that I am planning on doing that I haven't gotten to start on yet. Oh, and a 5 part series that I have printed out but haven't actually bound yet. I have a problem, lmao.) As I mentioned, I downloaded a few fonts for this but it just ended up looking so good in the end. Here is what some of the inner formatting looks like (I did just take the screenshots from word, I thought it was easier than getting the pages in the book)

Something else! This was the first time I actually broke a single fic into multiple parts, and I do not regret it. Each section is fairly large on its own, so it would have been a monster all together. I gave them basically the same title pages and such, just used the main stories summary for all of them and copy pasted everything - work smarter, not harder - and kept the same format for the chapters and such. There were 2 obvious spots (at least imo) for breaking things up, those being at the end of chapter 24, and then again at the end of 57, if you know, you know. However, that made the divide be 24 chapter, 33 chapter, 9 chapters. I was a little worried about how that divide to affect the look of the books, but I was pleasantly surprised how well it worked out. Book 2 there is quite obviously the largest part (it's basically double the length of book 1) but book 3 was surprisingly long for being only 9 chapters and I think they look fairly cohesive together. I didn't realize how long the last nine chapters themselves were. The first and third ones are actually about the same size together as book two, which is pretty cool!

When it came time to put together the actual books, I stuck with my tried and true french link stitch, as I find it to be a sturdy stitch, and then used green, yellow, and red card stock for the end pages, I felt it thematic.

I'm super excited to have this as a physical book now, thank again to chaiandsage for allowing me to bind this amazing story and just for writing it in the first place! I read it like twice in the span of a month, and I swear I have read chapter 57 and 58 themselves way too many times to count. Not even going to mention the amount of times I read the last 6 chapters because I just love a good happy ending.

But yeah, I'm really happy how this bind turned out, I still have to put an actual cover in these - which I plan on doing, I have a friend who is going to help me with the cover design when they are free, so there will be an update at some point.

[deadlyflames]

I have to say, I was absolutely obsessed with your Reverse Falls AU back in the day (still am tbh), and it was/is my favourite version of any Reverse Falls AU that had been done. I love that Gideon and Pacifica weren’t just given Dipper and Mabel’s personalities like a lot of other versions of that AU, and that they felt like the better version’s of themselves. I’m still wondering what the plot was gonna be concerning what Stan was up to and with Ford being trapped in the portal and such. Regardless, your writings still have a chokehold on me, so thank you <3

Thank you so much! I'm so happy to you enjoyed it. I love getting messages like this <3

I don't think I'll finished my own full version of the plot as I planned to, because it was kinda intense. But I'm very glad I made all those one shots and that they make people happy. I loved writing them and I still adore this AU.

TBH, I had a huge plan for the Stanford backstory and it was so unnecessarily complicated. Theres stuff I would keep but other stuff I would probably axe.

Short version is Stan and Ford moved to Gravity Falls when they were 12. They befriended a young Carla and Fiddleford and the four of them formed a little scooby gang that would solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls.

A young Ford stumbles upon the cave with the incantation to summon Bill and he translates it. So a young Pre teen Ford meets Bill much earlier than in canon and this influences him for the worst.

Stan doesn’t break his machine, Ford still gets rejected and this sends him on a dark spiral. He leaves town without a world.

Ford still builds the portal and falls into it, but this time it wasn't an accident and he was pushed in it on purpose. By Stan. 😬

The one who is actually trying to open the portal in this AU was Pacifica's mom. 😱

Here's a link to a more detailed timeline of these events - be warned - its hella messy.

Even tho I’ll probably never finish this story, it has a special place in my heart. ❤️ So I’ve included the draft for the first chapter of the official reverse falls au and my other chapter plans below the cut.

You didn't ask for it so ... here you go.

Play It In Reverse

While working for their Granny Carla, Pacifica and Gideon come across a nameless journal with mysterious content. They start to unravel the secrets of their home town, but they find some things are better left hidden when their path crosses with the Pines twins.

Ch 1 - Part Time Tourist, Full Time Trapped

Priscilla Northwest had not been happy when her daughter had brought up that she wanted to get a job for the summer break. Priscilla had stated that it was below a lady of her station to have a part time job and work for one of the lowbrow hicks that lived in the town. Besides, what was the point in getting a job when they were already rich.

But Pacifica had been persistent and Priscilla had seen the fiery rebellion in her violet eyes. She wouldn't easily back down from her position, not without constant tantrums and complaining. The child had always been annoyingly stubborn when she set her mind to something. Though Priscilla couldn't say she was much different when she was Pacifica's age.

She didn't really want to deal with an angry reckless teenager when she had a city to run. And she doubted Preston could keep Pacifica in line on his own. And it would be much easier to continue with her work if Pacifica wasn't wandering about the mansion on a constant basis.

The more Priscilla pondered on letting her daughter get a summer job, the better the idea seemed. The only problem was finding a place for her to work. She wouldn't let Pacifica be caught dead laboring in the greasy lumberjack diner. Priscilla would have to make sure that she had a respectable job with a trustworthy employer. An employer who wouldn't mind being saddled with a fourteen year old girl with no previous work experience and no knowledge of how to work for a living. It would be a difficult task, even for the mayor of the town. Priscilla was gifted in finding the right strings to pull to make sure things would work out to her design, and she didn't doubt her abilities. But not many respectable people would accept taking on a new employee for the entire of summer when the season had just started.

Acquaintances were unlikely to accept Pacifica, but family was another story.

Long and short term plans formed within her mind as she reached out to pick up her phone. Dialing a familiar but unused number on her phone, she took a deep breath as she brought the receiver to her ear.

An eccentric voice answered on the third ring. "You've reached the Mystery Shack, home of the legendary swamp beast foot. Just the left foot though, the rest of him is still buried in the swamp, plotting a way to find his missing limb. If you'd like to see it for yourself, come on down and enter-"

"Mother," Priscilla said to the woman on the other end, cutting off her sales pitch. "It's Priscilla."

The friendly tone in her mother's voice flipped on a dime. "Ah Priscilla, thought you might call," Carla stated with clipped sarcasm. "It's only been a year."

She cringed to herself in response to her mother's attempt at guilt tripping her. She hadn't called in order to get told off for not keeping in contact. Even though she was sure that her mother would love to focus on that subject.

"You know how busy I am, mother," Priscilla replied flippantly. The response left her lips before she could think better of it. Too late to take it back now. She examined a bit of paper work that had been pushed off to the side of her desk. Something to focus on other than the rant her mother was going to go on.

"Too busy to keep in touch with the family?" Carla snapped, temper showing in the sharpness of her voice. "Honestly Pris, I haven't seen you in years, and neither has Gideon. And seeing you on TV does not count. You haven't even called or written. We live in the same town, for god's sake. I've barely seen any trace of my granddaughter, who I also haven't seen in years, by the way."

Priscilla's ears perked up at that last sentence and her mind raced to engineer the perfect speech. Immediately, she adjusted her voice and spoke in an pleasant tone. "That's actually why I called you," she stated diplomatically. Lies spun out of her mouth like spiderwebs, laced with ulterior motives and secret plans. And like a spiderweb, they entrapped the woman on the other end. "Pacifica has been so consumed with her studies for the past few years, I thought it would be good if she had a break. I was hoping that you could let her work for you this summer, since you aren't particularly well staffed. It would be a great chance for you to bond."

There was a long pause on the other end, and Priscilla wondered if her mother was able to see through her. If anyone could, it was her. But even if her speech had rung false in her mother's ears, she doubted the woman would pass up the chance to spend time with her only granddaughter.

"So, you want me to take your teenaged daughter off your hands " her mother asked, a hint of amusement in her tone that Priscilla wasn't particularly fond of. "Alright, I'll let her work for me. On one condition."

The word condition alone was enough to tense her muscles and cause an uncomfortable flexion in her fingers. However, despite an initial discomfort, Priscilla kept her composure, because this was her mother and she rarely had an ulterior motive that extended beyond extra family time.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked with a neutral but polite tone that never betrayed her emotions.

"Pacifica stays here at the shack, it'll be like summer camp," her mother chirped, and Priscilla could tell she was smiling on the other end. "Plus I won't have to waste gas money, driving her back home."

The idea of Pacifica sleeping in the musty old shack Priscilla had despised in her childhood, made her cringe with disgust. However, it lined up with her motive to keep her daughter out of her way for the summer. Besides, it would be a good learning experience for her daughter, experiencing how the lower class lives. Perhaps she would finally understand the difference between the Northwests and everyone else in this town. Perhaps she would return home and actually be grateful for everything Priscilla had given her.

So, despite the revulsion that twisted her stomach when she thought of her daughters perfect blonde locks resting on the stained and unkempt beds of her childhood room, Priscilla kept a cheery tone. But not too cheery and with just the right amount of tension in her vocals. "That sounds wonderful."

She could practically see the triumph in her mother's eyes when she replied. As if taking in a teenager for the summer was some great victory. "Swell, you can drop her off this weekend." With that Carla hung up the phone, probably feeling very proud of herself.

There was a twitch at Priscilla's lips when she hung up the phone. In another life, if she had been burdened with a lack of ambition like other pretty girls, she probably could have become an actress.

Xxx

A small group of shuffling tourists pilled into a small, dark room. A young boy stood at the front of the group, leading them further into the darkness. Once the last person entered the room, the door slammed shut behind them, startling the tourists inside. Even in the darkness, people were able to see the little boy's light up shoes and the glimmering rhinestones adorning his cap. He was the only thing their eyes could follow as he came to stand on a platform.

"Now y'all gather in close," the boy stage whispered, his southern accent ringing clear as a bell. "And listen well as old Clarabelle tells you the darkest secret of Gravity Falls. I suggest those of you with feint hearts cover your ears."

The group was collectively pulled in closer by the softness of his voice. They were gathered tightly together now. Each person whispering of either conspiracies, skepticisms or wonder at what they were about to hear. No one saw the large smile on his face when he spoke again. "Now try not to scream, old Clarabelle's in a ... delicate situation."

There was a click and a single spotlight shined on the stage. The sudden light source assaulted everyone's retinas for a moment, when their eyes readjusted to the light the group let out a series of gasps. The white haired boy stood atop a stage that was made to look like a creepy living room, with ancient looking furniture and spiderwebs hanging off of everything. There was a single rocking chair in the centre of the stage, and sitting on it was an old woman who's appearance caused some of the audience to tremble. She was tightly bound in an old fashioned straight jacket, that would have been white if it weren't for the questionable dark crimson stains that streaked it. Her hair was long, stringy and a mess upon her head. But the real terrifying thing was her sunken in, erratically shifting violet eyes.

When she looked upon the people before her, a crooked and wild grin found its way to her lips. She tilted her head to the side to show off the sharpness of her teeth, causing people to notice that she had long fangs in place of her canines.

"Well, hello there, dears," she crooned to the crowd in a sickly sweet tone. "It's so nice to see such fine people visiting our little town. This sleepy little town, with wholesome citizens and lovely sights. At least, that was what the uninformed would assume. But I know differently. There are shadows in the forests, shifting when you get close enough. Strange phenomenons that cloud this town's history. Why even in this ver-"

She paused, crazed violet eyes snapping upwards towards the ceiling. Her breath hitched as she stared ahead, her gaze not really fixed on anything. Everyone waited in anticipation for her to finish her statement, or perhaps for her to snap into a violent rage.

She slowly craned her head towards the audience, a smile stretching at her lips but not affecting her dead eyes. "Sorry dearies, it seems you've come to visit old Clarabelle at a terrible time. You see-"

The old woman was cut off by a sudden rumble beneath the stage. She glared down at the floorboards as if they had offended her.

"You see, tonight is the new moon and-" the woman tried again, though her character was slipping. Her voice was a lot louder this time but her words were drowned out when the mechanical rumble bellow to stage turned into a full fledged roar.

A trapdoor in front of the old woman's rocking chair opened up with a slam. Puffs of smoke poured out from the opening, accompanied by the sound of distorted dog growls. The now confused and horrified audience watched as something large and fury emerged from the stage.

An animatronic werewolf jumped up from bellow the stage, only its hide was on fire. It's hinged jaw jerked rapidly and the rubber skin and synthetic fur melted away as it was licked by the flames. The thing's voice box was damaged by the heat, and the long howl it was programmed to make became distorted. The screech it made sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

The tourists screamed, some of them feeling the heat from the very real and dangerous flames. This little scene had clearly gotten out of control, and no one wanted to stick around to see the damage that would come of this malfunction. The group fled the room in fear, rushing passed the gift shop and back to their cars. As a collection of cars sped away on the dirt road, no one in the line had an inkling to ever go back to the Mystery Shack.

The boy, who had been guiding the customers, had fled the scene to fetch a nearby fire extinguisher. Luckily, due to prior experience with combustible machinery, he was able to douse the flames in a few moments.

As the large clouds of smoke rose up from the opening, the animatronic flopped over lifelessly and it's rubber skin sizzled. The old woman fluidly slipped from the confines of her straight jacket and tossed it to the side. Upon finding the room barren of tourists, she cursed loudly. The boy's hands automatically shot up to cover his ears as the woman cursed over and over.

"I thought you said it wasn't going to catch on fire this time, Melody," Carla McCorkle snapped, yanking the itchy wig from her head and throwing it to the ground in disgust. She spent all month preparing for this werewolf bit and now all these rehearsals went to waste. Not only that, but all the paying customers had booked it out of there without so much as a tip.

"I'm sorry," a feminine voice called out from under the stage. From the trap door, a young woman emerged. Her face and clothes were coated in soot and her hair was severely disheveled. "I really thought I fixed all the problems but when I went to turn it on, there was this pop and then a flame sparked and everything just got worse from there. I'm really sorry Miss McCorkle, I think it had something to do with the-"

"I don't care how it happened, just get it fixed," she said, brushing past the bewildered and frantic young woman. She yelled at the top of her lungs. "Robbie! Robbie, get over here!"

When there was no response, Carla stormed out of the room and into the gift shop, only to find her cashier missing.

Pacifica sat before the cash register, counting the money, or rather the lack of it. When her grandmother entered the room with the fury in her violet eyes, she straightened her posture to put up a facade of alertness.

“What happened?” the blonde asked, a sculpted brow arched in confusion. “I saw everyone run out of there and I thought someone died or something.”

“Those people are wimps,” her grandmother growled, glaring out the window where she could just make out the tail end of the retreating automobiles on the dirt road. She turned to her granddaughter with a frown. “Where the heck is Robbie?”

“He went AWOL after all those people ran out without even buying anything,” Pacifica answered with a shrug, though she turned her head to gaze wistfully out the window, the way she had seen the cashier go. “He said he would be hanging out with some friends.”

“Lousy teenagers,” Carla grumbled, crossing her arms and glaring out the window. “This is coming out of his pay check.”

The young boy came running in, out of breath and grinning like they hadn’t lost out on a whole lot of money.

“Good news,” he chirped, and Carla looked towards him with a skeptical gaze. “Melody got the fire out. Bad news is she’s going to need a week to fix the werewolf bot.”

Carla groaned dramatically, raking her fingers through her thick grey curls. While she mumbled a string of curses to herself, her grandchildren shared a look of acknowledgment and subtly nodded to one another.

“Weeeellll,” Pacifica said, dragging out the word as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Since today was a bit of a bust and Melody is working on fixing the werewolf, Gideon and I were gonna go out for a walk in the woods.”

Upon hearing this, Carla to her granddaughter with a suspicious glare. She inclined her head in interest, searching for any hidden intent in Pacifica’s facial features or posture.

xxx

Gravity Falls wasn't the kind of place you would expect people to travel to on purpose. It was a small town, built on the lumber industry, with not much in terms of attractions. There was a grand total of four restaurants, two motels, and one mall. The town held some weird traditions and fostered a bunch of creepy local legends, but other than that it was basically a pit stop for weary travellers taking a road trip in the pacific north west.

xxx

The tree was cool to the touch, and had the texture of steel. The realistic paint job mimicked the colour and shadows of bark and had fooled Pacifica and Gideon into believing it was real.

Out of curiosity, she carefully ran her hand along the tree side. She paused when her fingertips caught on a small grove in the metal, indicating that there was some kind of opening.

Xxxxx

These were my chapter plans for play it in reverse - some are more thought out than others lol

Part Time Tourist, Full Time Trapped: Gideon and Pacifica go out to get pictures of something spooky, they come across gnomes. The gnomes find the two truss passing on their lawn and try to force one or the other into marriage. When they escape, the cousins stumble upon the third journal. They use it to escape the gnomes by summoning the manatoar to scare them off.

Once in a Waxing Moon: Pacifica finds a poster for the Mystery Museum's new wax exhibit. Carla flips her lid and immediately calls up Fiddleford Mcgucket to assemble a new attraction to beat out Stan. Pacifica and Gideon help Melody and Fids with the creation of the Gobblewonker. They do the painting. Pacifica meets McGucket for the first time and learns how Melody started working for Carla and how she became a mechanic. Like a try hard, Carla shows of fat the wax exhibit unveiling and shows up Stan with her gobblewonker. After an enormous explosion takes out everything, Paz and Gideon decide to find out who caused the destruction. With a tip from Wendy, they find out that Stan was around when the thing blew up. But that's weird because Carla and Stan were fighting at the time. Something Is sketchy so they go snooping around the mystery museum late at night for clues. They find out that it was actually Stan's wax figure that blew up the robot and they nearly get killed by some wax figures. Pacifica meets dipper Stan and Carla get into a fight and Paz gets some free tickets to the tent of telepathy.

There's Something About Mabel: Paz and Gideon and Melody go to the tent of telepathy. Mabel is interested in Gideon and approaches him with the intent of owning him. He's excited to be hanging out with her but he gets severely scared of her and has to put up some boundaries. This makes Mabel even more determined to have him and she starts pressuring him to date her and smothers him and nearly threatens him. Paz, seeing the effect Mabel has on Gideon, confronts her and tells her to lay off a bit. Mabel doesn't take this well and traps her at a factory and promptly tries to kill her. Gideon receives the ransom note, and tries to appeal to her better nature. He lets her down easy but Mabel goes full out horror show on him. Paz tries to rescue him but Dipper shows up and stops her. Dipper convinces Mabel not to kill Paz or hurt Gideon and she begrugenly follows him, not without threatening Paz on the way out.

Season of the Hand Witch: Gideon and Paz start panicking about the mystically powered twins and consult the journal for answers. They can't find anything on the mystic amulets but they do find info on a psychic witch who may have the answers to how they can defend themselves. They go to the handwitch who tells them how to make hex bags to stop the pines twins from using their powers on them.

Mabel goes to meet them at the shack and act threatening but finds she can’t use her powers. Pacifica is a bit gloaty about it.

Mabel goes to tell Dipper about how they got had. Dipper is surprised that Pacifica found away around her powers, and he’s impressed but not too upset. Its just a couple of kids after all. Sucks for Mabel tho. Mabel is like yeah it is unfortunate. Especially since Pacifica has the other journal. Dipper just screeches "WHAT?!"

The Art of Failing at Seduction: the party at the mystery shack, a birthday party for Stan thrown by Carla because she thinks its funny and she makes a big deal about advertising how old he is. Pacifica and Dipper share a confrontation when she keeps catching him sneaking around while she fails to put the moves on Robbie. He gets his hands on her journal but he is dumbfounded when he sees that it’s journal number 3. Dippy thought she had journal number 1, he had no idea there even was a 3rd journal lol. She hits him with a chair and gets the book away from him. He demands to know why it’s the third journal and where the first is. She has no idea what he’s talking about.

Pioneer Day: Pacifica and Stan are both mortified at the discovery that its Pioneer Day. Carla sets up a pioneer station at the shack to get more customers and to piss of Stan. Pacifica has to do the Pioneer Day speech every year.

Trick or Treat or Die: Pacifica pisses off the summerween trickster and then they have to collect a whole lot of candy.

Splash: Gideon falls in love with a magical manatee.

Worst Date Ever: Dipper somehow convinces Pacifica to investigate a series of disappearances around a convenience store. They end up needing to be saved by

Where Have All The Good Men Gone: Dipper and Robbie fight or not.

Something Wicked This Way Comes: Bill Cipher

Pacifica Northwest Vs The World: Dipper and Mabel get access to the Mystery Shack

Nearly Almost Dead But Not Quite: zombie kareoke

It Must Be a Conspiracy: Pacifica and Dipper believe their relatives are up to something.

Experiment #210: Seuss melody date

Mind Swap:

What is Love?: love potion incident.

Witches Be Crazy: Lollipop, Taffy, bubblegum, candy

Ancient Sins: the haunting at Northwest manner forces Priscilla to hire Dipper and Mable to deal with it. Pacifica is pissed off when he shows up.

Order of the All Seeing Eye: the crew discovers a cult dedicated to cipher lead by blind Ivan and they all work to erase the memories of gravity falls so no one will stand in the way of cipher when he returns. They find out about how the portal will open soon, mcgucket finds out that the kids have his memory gun now.

My Soul to Take: Dipper gets his ass possessed. Bills like, well you’ve figured out too much already so we’re gonna destroy those journals of yours and kill all those that know about the impending portal.

No One You Can Trust: the crew tries to find out who could be trying to open the portal and it leads them to mcgucket stan and Carla.

The Thickness of Blood: the portal opens and Ford emerges. Mcgucket manages to contain the rift that had been created via the portal.

Last Ditch Effort: in an attempt to get the power away from the northwest’s, Stan runs for mayor.

Beginning of the End: Mable trades the rift for bill to no longer be able to possess her and her brother while allowing them to keep their amulets and magical abilities.

Weirdmagedon: The Final Temptation: Bill offers Dipper everything he could want so they can make another deal and so he will have dipper under his thrall.

Weirdmagedon: Into the Rift:

Weirdmagedon: The Way Is Shut: the blood is spilled in the circle

[stranger-rants]

Thoughts on Billy doing water therapy post starcourt? 💗💗💗

For as long as he can remember, Billy has loved the water. His body has always felt in tune with it. He could smell the rain long before it arrived. He could ride the waves with ease. When he was stressed, nothing quite brought him back to equilibrium like floating in the pool or taking a shower. Billy loved the water, and it loved him too. It embraced him when his father wouldn’t. It soothed his aching muscles with its warmth when he was treated too roughly. It took Billy’s anger whenever he swam laps in school, and pushed him to be stronger. It gave him everything he needed to one day leave.

Physical therapy isn’t “working.”

He’s become way too familiar with the ground.

They make him use a walker to get himself up out of bed or out of his chair. His chest hurts. His stomach muscles spasm. His legs shake. If he pushes himself too hard, his heart can’t take it. It beats too fast. He feels dizzy. The room spins. He falls. He says he can’t do it. He’s had enough. No more! Just let me lay here. You should have let me die. Everything hurts. He’s exhausted… but more importantly, he wants to slip into the water again… to feel weightless. Let it carry him, instead of having to carry himself. But he can’t. His scars are still forming. There’s numerous incision sites still closing up. He’s had so many surgeries he’s lost count.

He would have to be wrapped tight in plastic to enter a pool, and a public pool is an absolute no in his weakened state.

Still, he longs for it.

Billy spends much of his early recovery severely depressed. He doesn’t talk much to anyone. They nag him, though. You have to get up. You have to do your exercises. You have to drink enough water. Ha! He doesn’t want to just drink it. He wants to be in it. Submerged. Even when he is able to bathe, it’s either with a towel and a bucket or a quick shower sitting in a plastic chair. The kind elderly people use so they don’t slip and fall and break their hip. That’s hardly anything at all. So, he’s snippy with the few people willing to help… Max, who in her own frustration yells fine and leaves him alone and Steve who knows a thing or two about being stubborn.

Steve offers to take care of Billy for the weekend. Everyone else is busy and Billy struggles a lot when he’s left alone, though he doesn’t admit it. They don’t talk much. They do their own things - just, when Billy needs it, Steve is nearby to help. It’s quiet for a while. Steve calls out into the living room. He can’t find him. He’s about to go into panic mode when he notices Billy sitting outside by the pool. He opens the sliding glass door, but Billy doesn’t move from his spot. As Steve moves closer, he can see Billy’s legs in the water.

“I’m not gonna drown myself if that’s what you’re thinking…”

“Didn’t think you would,” Steve says, but honestly he’s not sure what to think about Billy at any given moment.

“Feels good.”

Billy closes his eyes. His scars are healed enough. If he could just push his body into the water… but maybe then his muscles will cramp up and he’ll actually drown.

“You wanna go in?”

Billy looks at Steve like he’s crazy, but yeah. He wants to go in.

“Don’t think I can. M’not strong enough.”

“Nonsense,” Steve shakes his head, “I’m here, so if you feel weak or whatever, I’ll save you.”

Steve winks at him, earning an eye roll. He nudges Billy’s arm. “C’mon, champ. Let’s get you some swim trunks.”

That’s how it starts, with Steve guiding him back into the pool. It’s everything he thought it would be for his broken body. The stress leaves his muscles. He can breathe a bit easier. His heart beats at a steady rhythm, except for when Steve’s hands wrap around his scarred waist. The first time they only spend a few minutes in the pool before Billy clearly needs a nap, but there’s another time and another time and another time. Steve agrees to take care of Billy on weekends, and no one thinks about it much other than Steve being Steve - always trying to lessen everyone’s “burdens” but really this is good for him, too.

After a while, Billy’s physical therapist notes improvement. He falls less. His mobility is better. He can cope better with physical strain. She asks if he’s been doing his exercises and he says “more or less.”

Physical therapy is working.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Tag Game for Historical Simblrs! 📖

1. What has been your favorite time period to play in or which one are you most excited for?

As far as actually playing the game? The 1900s. I really did a lot of gameplay and overall it was just a wholesome, pleasant time to play the game. However, it’s definitely my least favorite story wise and I feel like not a lot happened.

So as far as the actual plot goes, I’ve been looking forward to the 20s literally since I began this challenge. While difficult, it has also been so fulfilling to actually see it all come to life. Now, I’ve got my eyes set on the 1940s 👀

2. Do you have a favorite piece of historical cc? (CAS or BB)

Oh this is…impossible 😅

I have gone through so many styles and eras already that I have mainstay pieces for each as well as pieces that just stop my heart. I think the one that I’m fixated on right now is Zelda’s 1920s bob. Of course she’s grown it out a bit now but it’s still iconic in my heart.

3. Who is your favorite sim currently?

Okay another one that is basically impossible. Because like, how do I pick between my pixel babies right now? Antoine and Jo are absolutely my baby angels, and are both my favorites at various points in the narrative.

But it’s so difficult to pick them as my overall favorite over Zelda, just because I’ve been playing and writing as Zelda quite literally since she was born.

4. What is your favorite world?

Currently? Willow Creek hands down. This is more because I’ve transformed it into New Orleans than it is because of any merit it has on its own. I use mods and put in a lot of work to make it look this way, but now, it’s by far my favorite.

5. Are you more gameplay or story focused?

Well….I think we know the answer to this one 😂

Storytelling drives my gameplay without a doubt. I write very far in advance, and that plot is what determines how I tell the story. Often I try and recreate these things as close as possible in gameplay, but let’s be honest, that isn’t always easy in this game.

6. Do you like to play with pets in your historical saves?

Ah, not an awful lot. Because I’m usually in storytelling mode posing sims and trying to get from one scene to another, I can often find them cumbersome. Of course we did have Daisy in the 1900s and she was lovely to have at Darlington Cottage, but I think that’s because I was doing more gameplay in that era so it made more sense.

7. What’s your biggest immersion breaking pet peeve with the game?

Sigh. What always got me was when a family member from another world showed up at my sims doorstep or is just walking in the background. So I’m in downtown “New Orleans” and all of a sudden, oh look! There’s Virginia walking in the background of a scene.

Luckily now I have this mod to get everyone to stay in their world 😉

8. What’s your favorite in-game historical item? (CAS or BB)

Honestly, just to make my life easier, I often filter by Custom Content and call it a day. This is especially true in CAS because I find all the assets overwhelming, I don’t even really use many in-game items there (except for a pair of base game lace up boots I use constantly).

In BB I find there’s a number of small items that I like using, such as the BG coat rack, the flowers from Cottage Living, the round BG dining table, the Tiffany lamp from Cats and Dogs, and a number of others!

I also used quite alot of the Realm of Magic Assets in Zelda and Antoine’s apartment, so I’m really fond of those, especially the Art Nouveau parquet floorboards and wallpaper.

9. What would you like to see as a new pack or asset to the game?

This is a personal one for the story going forward (👀) but absolutely horses. Otherwise, I would love to see more functionality for music and bands in the game, maybe even with some vintage assets to complete that vibe.

10. What pack do you think is invaluable as a historical simmer?

Like I’m sure most people would say, Cottage Living. It just offers so much gameplay for historical simmers as well as a gorgeous world that I’ve gotta select it (see my whole long list of pack recs here).

11. Do you have a favorite mod to enhance historical gameplay?

The mod that is absolutely invaluable to me is Timeless. It is what allows me to get so many scenic screens without pesky objects in the way and also simply makes the worlds so much more immersive to me.

12. What’s your ideal family size for playing?

The 1900s Darlingtons are frankly as large as I can go with the family. So a household of six, max, plus maybe a pet. Even then, I get very overwhelmed. So I usually prefer households of 4-5 although I do also like a household of 3 with an only child 😉

13. Do you use poses?

Goodness gracious, yes. All the poses all the time for everything. Even when I try to use in game animations I get more annoyed that I can’t control the angles as much.

14. Do you use any overrides in your game?

I actually don't! I suppose it would be very useful but its just not really something I've ever delved into.

15. Do you, or did you, play off-the-grid during your game?

Yes, I played off the grid for all of the 1880s and 1890s. I now slightly regret it because this means I was taking all of my photos with candles, and that lead to that heavy yellow tone in all of my early interior photos.

I also played off the grid for most of the 1900s until darlington cottage got that upgrade that included the inside bathrooms. Best moment of the game lol

16. What lifespan do you play on?

I play with custom lifespan settings where 4 in game sim days equal 1 IRL year.

17. What inspired you to start playing a historically?

Whew. Well I was playing my own version of the NSB challenge that I wrote when I hit gen 6. This gen was meant to be a film star, so I kind of had this idea that as her career progressed, her fashion would also go through the eras of old Hollywood. Looking back, I now also realize that this was me getting fed up with the lack of time progression that inevitably comes from playing a “modern” legacy challenge.

Anywho, I was looking for CC for this when I came across the wonderful lookbooks of Pixelnrd. This of course led me to their challenge and I started reading one afternoon. By the next day I had the idea for the Darlingtons already forming in my head 🥹

Thank you so much for the tag my dearest @antiquatedplumbobs I’ll pass the love along to @heartblobs @alainas-sims @taanoir @miraplayssims @lovecidik @someplumberrys @sims-half-crazy @greatbritishsimchallenge and @come-hell-or-high-water

And anyone who feels like answering a whole long list of questions! 🤗

[polkadotsunshine]

of the wild things that happen in True Colors, one of my favorites has been andrias’s A.T. field.

i choose to interpret this as an in-universe real fucking Absolute Territory Field. this is not a dune shield or newtopian tech. this is a barrier manifested by his soul. in evangelion (spoilers btw!) we learn that all life generates its own A.T. field. these fields are the boundaries that separate individuals from each other, in both a physical and metaphysical sense.

angels are special in that their A.T. fields are so strong they are visible and can be used for supernatural physical feats. so why do i believe andrias can do this?

at various points in the story, the protagonists of evangelion try to form close relationships but they only end up hurting each other. as a response to this trauma they shut themselves off from the world. each character does this through different means, but they all find a way to avoid making close relationships again. they put up emotional walls and though these barriers are not physical they are no less strong. this insight is key; as it turns out, A.T. fields are formed by an individual’s fear of being hurt by others.

“Hedgehogs have a hard time sharing warmth with other hedgehogs. The closer they get, the more they hurt each other with their quills. People are also like that. I think some part of Shinji is afraid to take that risk because he's afraid of being hurt.”

andrias has spent a thousand years trying and failing to forget leif. because she was such a close friend, losing her hurt so much more. he has spent a thousand years in self imposed solitude, grieving over her betrayal. his life has been defined from his isolation; it’s no wonder it’s manifested physically. it’s no wonder that andrias has an in-universe real fucking Absolute Territory Field.

“That's the thing about friends, isn't it? The more you love them, the more it hurts when they go.”

now let’s understand how anne overcomes this supernatural defense.

anne has been betrayed by sasha, marcy - even hop pop - and yet she will not let them go. she chooses to fight to restore her friendships, often literally. while andrias has long since given up, anne accepts that the joy of connecting with others comes at the risk of betrayal and abandonment. to her, it is a happiness worth the pain.

“It's not easy. Forgiveness is hard. And it can take time. But believe me... it's worth it”

anne weilds the power of the heart. she reconnects to the stone and undergoes her transformation with one goal in mind. her strength is fueled by an undying motivation to keep her friends. she channels the calamity gem with a simple mantra:

“Give him back.”

while andrias accepted the loss of his friends as irreversible, anne refuses this fate. this is the essence of anne’s conflict with andrias. in their final battle during All In, anne confronts andrias’s philosophy; the fight is more psychological than physical. after all, tritonio says, "an honest dialogue is more powerful than any weapon.”

“So what? I'm supposed to give up? Stop feeling things? Like you? Honestly, I pity you! You shut yourself off from the rest of the world, didn't you? A thousand years of suffering. Of burying your feelings. Of hating yourself. That must have been hard.”

after all these years; anne’s spirit, marcy’s friendship, and leif’s letter change andrias’s mind. he finally opens himself up to others. his A.T. field goes down. he's vulnerable.

“So I'm begging you, my dearest friend, don't close yourself off. Open your heart, and follow it.”

however, back in True Colors, andrias is more closed off than ever. he backstabs the first friend he’s had in a thousand years. in his mind, there’s no going back from here. anne cannot defeat him with a change of heart; not yet. she must overcome the shield with force, though that’s easier said than done.

you see, in evangelion, only one thing is strong enough to break through an A.T. field: another A.T. field.

so how can anne have such a strong A.T. field if she is philosophically opposite to andrias? here lies the foundation of evangelion; accepting your boundary between others is a necessary part of life. when A.T. fields cease to exist, people cannot exist because they are indistinguishable from one another.

in the end, shinji realizes that he would rather struggle to understand others than to simply not exist in a sea of souls without A.T. fields. he does this after a long journey to find happiness and self worth.

anne, like shinji, recognizes the pain of intimacy, yet chooses to fight for it anyway. the strength of her A.T. field comes from her strong sense of self. her friendship with sprig teaches her that she has value. she finally stands up for herself because she values her own self worth. her A.T. field, while not visible, shatters andrias’s defenses. her individuality is not born from the fear of others but something stronger.

"I think the reason I don't want a new look because I'm finally happy with who I see in the mirror right now. So no matter what I put on, I just wanna see the same person smiling back."

anne wins because she loves herself.

[theendofuno]

okay….haii tl;dr: i want to throw myself from a reactor nuclear and besides loving this page dearly keeping it daily isnt helping me with these kinda of thought so ill start a god-knows-who-long hiatus

now *puts a music box version of meltdown by iroha for dramatic purposes* *cleans throat* pretending im talking to an audience its easier for me okay dont judge me :(

i dont know how to write texts but ill try my best to explain everything without going into too much annoying stuff but the text may have a few suicide mentions here and there

okay

i created this page in a very dark period of my life that never went away, it actually worsened everyday. it was supposed just to be fun and games, "oh this character didnt got released this month, maybe drawing him everyday for a month until he gets here will be very funny!!!" *stares at 2 years*

as you can see, i didnt had ANY prepare to keep going for the long we did, but this is 100% not a complain

i really love this page, i really do love everyone i've met, i love having this project with my best friend, but i cant and wont lie: it made me VERY worse than i already was. it made me feel good, it made me feel loved, it made me feel human again, and at the same time it absolutely killed me

having to keep this consistence everyday, having to do good drawings, not allowing myself to do what it was better for my own health just because i didnt wanted to disappoint people with silly drawings when the first week was all cool drawings full colored with a bunch of details, references and etc

i really lost my count of how many times i had a terrible breakdown or even an attempt and my first thought was just "yeah that sucked. anyway i have to work so people will have some art tomorrow!"

and to be honest i dont think starting this page with my friend was…..that of a good idea. i know youre here just for their art. you dont need to lie i know theyre better than i am and you would prefer to see their art everyday other than mine. dont worry the feeling its mutual

but well theyre a slow artist and i wont be the one forcing them to draw everyday, i am the one that can do it and thats what i did for 300 days until now!

but that was something that kinda broke my feelings also cuz im very harsh on myself and keeping comparing their drawings to mine, not only the quality but also the different attention it all got (and sometimes it was almost a 20 likes difference so..sucks to be me ig) isnt doing good for my little damaged brain. its 100% not their fault tho and im not saying it is KJGDKFDK but if im going to be honest then i will

i dont know how to keep going the text tbh,, so,, my point is that im havent felt well since i started the page, and i love it with my whole heart, and these feelings have nothing to do with uno, grand chase itself, or the community (maybe a 2% fault go for annoying people from twitter /hj), im just being a little egoistic and doing this for myself or otherwise i can go completely insane and well. psych wards dont look funny :(

i really feel nasty, an HORRIBLE human being, absolute egoistic trash by abandoning the page, i feel SO FUCKING BAD for not drawing my son, by not updating here everyday and allowing people to see the silly stuff i do, but i guess i got to my breaking point where i just cant keep ignoring my suicide attempts by drawing and keeping my mouth shut (really, my last attempt was so scary i didnt fully recovered from)

yeahhhhhhh

i guess that was it

i pinky-promise i'll try my best to keep drawing and posting everytime i can, but it wont be daily, and it may not be weekly also, but i didnt gave up and i WONT gave up, this page is my absolute pride and joy and i cant just let it go away for a bad mental day. i still love and forever will love uno and drawing him, and i'll be forever happy for everyone i've met and helped me even without they knowing, just by liking or commenting on my stuff

i hope you guys can forgive me for abandoning stuff right now and i hope y'all dont forget me. i wont be mad if you forget me. i'll just be a little sad. maybe cry a little *stares at you like that ( ◕_◕)* but dont worry. its okay.

i'll be trying my best to get back posting daily at least around day 330, but dont put high hopes. please. dont expect much. bigs chances i'll be just dropping a stick man with a heart ahoge saying haiiiii and go back to posting silly ugly art

[sunnie-angel]

A Soft Touch (pt. 3)

jason todd x fem!reader

link to part one, part two, ao3 link

summary: Jason’s late for your date, and the two of you have a conversation about your own insecurity

tags: mentions of injury, mentions of trafficking

rating teen | wc: 1.5k

a/n: i simply can’t seem to stop myself from drawing out the slow burn. this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous ones, but i really wanted to get an update out for this series.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s late. They don’t even have a set time to meet but Jason knows he’s late, that this is later than all the time they’ve spent together. Still he’s running through the streets of Gotham hoping you haven’t gotten fed up and left yet.

The last 10 hours have been hell. He caught a break in his human trafficking case only a few hours after parting ways at the coffee shop. He’d spent the night scouting out the docks, waiting to liberate a shipment. He’d been successful, freed 28 people from Black Mask’s operation but it had cost him. There’s a bullet graze in his calf oozing sluggishly through his homemade stitches and his shoulder aches in its socket from where he’d had to reset it against a brick wall. He’d spent most of the day making sure the GCPD could be trusted to look after the survivors and collect evidence, only having to make his presence known once. He’d only made it home an hour ago, had to spend a good 20 minutes meditating just to reel his senses in before tending to his assorted hurts and frantically trying to get the blood off.

That brings him to the present moment, desperately trying to make it to the coffee shop on time. Doesn’t want you thinking he stood you up or that meeting you hasn’t been the best part of his life these past few days. He bursts through the door, and comes to an abrupt stop, panting. You’re still there, sitting in the same little alcove as yesterday, head buried in a book. There’s an empty coffee cup and plate full of crumbs in front of you but you haven’t left. You look up, smile faltering when you see how disheveled he looks. He hurries over to you, apologies spilling off of his tongue.

“I’m so sorry,” he has to stop to pant, “got held up at work. Couldn’t— couldn’t get away.”

“Jason, Jason it’s fine. Take a minute okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Am I— am I too late to buy you that drink?” He sounds so concerned about it, like a little boy about to be denied a treat he’d been promised.

“Jason you can still buy me a drink if you want to, but we can always do a rain check, yeah? We can just spend time together today if that’s what you want.”

Jason straightens as best he can, sending a twinge through his shoulder. He’s determined to seize this opportunity. Can’t quite articulate why this means so much to him but it does. Made the mess of last night easier to bear with this to look forward to.

“What are we drinking then?”

“How about the hot apple cider? It looks like we could both use something comforting.”

Waiting in line for your orders, Jason concludes that whatever magic your attention works on him must be limited by distance because he can feel everything crowding back in to fight for his attention. The dull thud of his heart in his shoulder, the way the ragged edges of his calf pull against the stitches, the too stiff fabric of his least favourite jeans, how the seam of his sock has rotated on his left foot. The grinding of the coffee machine is a hammer behind his eyes, ringing through his temples. He can smell the day-old sweat on the business man in front of him and the coins sitting in the tip jar. Jason’s glad you asked for something that will be prepared quickly. At this point he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to stay today, the feedback on his senses absolutely hellish.

He grabs the drinks from the pickup counter, turns to bring them back to the table but nearly spills them all over himself instead. You’re there, standing behind him, just like the day you met.

“Let’s take a walk. There’s a park just a few blocks away. We can sit on the benches there and share our drinks.” Your tone is cajoling, leaving room for him to disagree if he needs to.

“Yeah— yeah okay.”

The two of you are silent on the way to the park. It’s dark now, but the light of the street lamps is warm and more than enough to get by. The park’s empty when you get there, about the size of a city block with a small fountain in the middle and benches arranged in a circle around it. You choose one just a little outside of the circle of lamplight. You set your bag down and gratefully accept the steaming cup from Jason.

“How’s your leg?”

Jason freezes, before very carefully turning his head to look at you.

“My leg?”

“You were favouring one leg on the walk here. Do you need to put your leg up?” Your voice remains calm, unruffled like you’re trying not to make a big deal of it. He takes a sip of his drink to buy himself some time. It’s good, really good, but not enough to distract him from the weight of your waiting eyes.

“Small injury from work, it’s kind of why I was so late today.”

You nod, turn back to your own drink and blow on it to cool it. The two of you are silent, something expectant but not uncomfortable about it. You sigh, before turning back to him.

“Jason, you and I don’t know each other that well. But I’d like to get to know you better. That’s why I’m telling you this now.” you make sure to look him directly in the eye as you speak, wanting to make sure there’s no misunderstandings. “I don’t like feeling like a burden. I don’t like inconveniencing people or asking for help because I never want to be a weight around someone’s neck.” He’s not saying anything, uncertain of where you’re going with this line of thought. “But you’re hurt Jason. You’re pushing yourself to be here with me when you should be resting. And yeah, it’s not just all about me, but I don’t want to be the reason why you’re not getting better.” Pausing, you wait for him to respond to anything you’ve said so far.

“I didn’t want you to think that I’d stood you up.” He fiddles with the paper sleeve of his cup, voice small for a man of that size.

“I’m glad you didn’t. And I’m glad you let me know. But are you in any shape to stay? The last thing I want is to be why you’re still in pain.”

He sighs, slumping back on the bench. “Probably not.” He admits reluctantly. “But seeing you was important to me. You’re not causing me pain to be here, you’re not inconveniencing me.”

“I— okay. I believe you Jason. I’ll try not to take tonight too personally.” You joke, weakly. “Do you need a hand getting somewhere, or…”

The impossible thought of leaning on you like a crutch has him almost choking on his drink, the image of his weight bowling the two of you over equal parts horrifying and hilarious. “No! No, I’m fine to get myself home. What about you?”

You blink. “Me?”

“It’s dark out and we’re further from the cafe than yesterday.”

“Oh! My apartment’s just the other side of the park, I’ll be fine.” You look down at where your hands are wrapped around your cup, cheeks suddenly just as warm. “But thank you.”

“Can I have your phone number?” Buoyed by the warmth in your cheeks and the taste of apple and spices on his tongue, Jason feels bold. “I’ll text you next time if I’m running late.”

“Oh there’s going to be a next time, huh?” You tease as you reach for the phone he holds out to you. It’s a flip phone, chunky black plastic and rubber buttons with a satisfying give to them, but it suits him. You hand it back to him and a few seconds later a message vibrates your phone.

“Yeah. I’ll see you on Friday. My leg’ll be better, and maybe you’ll let me take you to dinner.” He grins, confident from having his first little gamble pay off.

The two of you say goodbye, breaths mingling as mist in the winter night. It’s not the fairytale date Jason had hoped for, but the afternoon had been redeemed. He watches you leave, coat fluttering around your ankles, before steeling himself for the walk home. His calf throbs and his shoulder pulses to the rabbit-quick beat of his heart but nothing diminishes the grin splitting his face. The wind in his face chafes at his cheeks, for once only carrying the scent of an impending snow fall and the decaying leaf matter of the park. His phone, the only burner he’s kept longer than a month, is clutched protectively in his good hand. It’s so precious to him now, the phone and the new contact labeled ‘Angel’ in it.

link to part 4

[bellevvalencia]

Sick

October 16, 2023

My left ear was ringing with pain the other night when I told God that I’d take any other pain rather than physical pain at that moment. It was nowhere near the level of pain of my leg injury from three months ago, but I had to get up in five hours, my room was cold, my brain was fried, and my body was limp from the gym. It was already a limit that I was facing everyday, so having a sudden additional burden was slightly an overkill. I wouldn’t have minded, but I was at a really tight spot that week.

I whined a little. Took the deepest breaths I could and thought back to all of my previous greater pains to invalidate it and strip it of its power. I’m nothing if not a drama queen. I just had to sleep, I repeated to myself over and over again, because then the feeling would go away.

It was very similar to when I cried myself to my parents because I had no idea where the pain in my leg was coming from or going to.

It was similar to when my retainers were fucking me up so bad I stopped wearing them in my sleep.

It was similar to when I got a bruise from jokingly egging a punch from a boy and I couldn’t react because I let it happen.

And it was similar to me saying “No, it’s okay, I’m used to body pain” when he apologized about it the morning after.

It was similar to when I ignored my conscious working brain for weeks and trusted the words of another boy who left as soon as he got me.

It was similar to when, after swearing off caffeine for two years, I started taking it again just so I could show up and pretend that everything was absolutely amazing.

There’s always some kind of premium when your tolerance to pain is high—obviously to yourself, because who the hell wouldn’t want to stay unscathed—but also to the way that people perceive you: Oh, she’ll be fine. She’s been through more and she can do better.

It’s always fine because you can fix yourself on your own, you need no apologies, and in your head you’re thinking that you probably deserved it anyway.

After how I acted and after what I said and after where I went?

After the way I felt?

I probably deserved that.

When my ear hurt, I knew that I would feel a lot better the next day, but it was very hard to believe. At that level, I doubted that I could ever forget the pain. I called a doctor after a few hours. He gave me meds and said I should feel relief in three days.

It was too long. But whatever it is and why, I probably did it to myself. I could do three days.

I can do three more. Maybe.

When my body doesn’t align with my mind, it should be easier to accept that it was something that I did. It’s true most of the time. I got a cold because I partied too hard. I got a fever because I stayed out too late. I got a sprain because I pulled too fast. I got a chest pain because I expected too much. I got a headache because I wasn’t stopping and I wouldn’t stop, because I had to go out and do something before it all eventually breaks me. It should all be logical.

Isn’t it so fucking funny how it’s not?

Sometimes you deal with the wrong people and you go to the wrong places and you let your heart take you even though you’re aware that none of it makes sense. And sometimes you’re wrong and you’re making mistakes. And sometimes you don’t want what’s good for you. And sometimes you want what’s bad for you.

Sometimes you let your heart take the lead...and then, more often than not, you just sit back and watch it fuck you up like a little fool.

It’s always only the greatest story of all time.

I have a very low tolerance to pain. I’d like to believe so, at least, because it doesn’t really get better. My body is sore every single day. I tire it out and I have all these outlets but when it hurts, it doesn’t get any better. It just becomes the norm that has to be endured. And when the norm is endured, you grow bigger and bigger around it, until it feels smaller and smaller and it doesn’t feel different than before anymore.

But that’s the big, ideal, birds-eye-view picture. At the end of every single day, while walking home from the gym at 10 PM, for example, it only fucking sucks ass. The pain eases for a while and for a bit but in my lone idle moments, I want to either kill myself or run to a door to pound my fists and ask why. I want to shut down and numb the constant ache in my chest down, because I blame myself and I shouldn’t, but it’s the only way I can get out of it alive. It’s the only way I can forgive—knowing that I’ll find my way through eventually.

So when I was on the verge of trading my life for a sense of relief, when my ear hurt, my brain just insisted that it could be so much worse. At least that one’s always true.