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rafemotherfuckingcameron · 9 months ago

Note

This might be too much for you but can I request step dad x reader where you mom has fertility issues and readers mom wants Rafe to breed you 🙏

UNNATURAL

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing(s): step!dad Rafe x Reader, reader!mom x reader

Warnings: SMUT, breeding, pregnancy talk

Summary: Your mum asks Rafe to breed you

Masterlist

Sitting on the edge of your bed, the weight of your mother's request heavy on your shoulders, you feel torn between conflicting emotions. On one hand, you can't bear the thought of disappointing the woman who's been there for you through thick and thin, the one person who's always had your back for the past 21 years. But on the other hand, the gravity of what she's asking you to do is almost too much to comprehend.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. This decision isn't one to be taken lightly—it's a choice that will shape the course of your future in ways you can't even begin to imagine.

With a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and try to focus on the facts. Surrogacy is a deeply personal and complex process, one that involves not just your physical well-being, but your emotional and psychological health as well. And to do it for your own mother, with Rafe as the father... it's a scenario straight out of a nightmare.

But as you weigh the pros and cons, you can't shake the feeling that there's more at stake here than just your own future. Your mother's longing for another child of her own is palpable, a desperate plea for fulfilment that tugs at your heartstrings. The weight of your mother's struggle with fertility weighs heavily on your heart as you grapple with the decision before you.

You've seen firsthand the toll it's taken on her—the countless doctor's appointments, the disappointment with each failed attempt, the longing in her eyes every time she sees a young child.

For years, she's been trying to conceive another baby, hoping to fill the void. But despite her unwavering determination and countless efforts, the reality of her fertility issues has remained a bitter pill to swallow.

===

With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, you come to a decision: you'll say yes to your mother's request. Despite the unease and uncertainty swirling within you, you can't bear the thought of letting her down, of denying her the chance to have another child.

“Mum, I have thought long and hard about this and I have to a decision. I’ll do it.” As you utter the words, a weight lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a strange mix of relief and apprehension.

You know that this decision will change your life in ways you can't even begin to imagine, but for now, you push those thoughts to the back of your mind, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Your mother's face lights up with joy and gratitude as you confirm your agreement, her eyes shining with unshed tears. In that moment, you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for the doubt and hesitation you harboured just moments before. After all, this is what she's been dreaming of for years—the chance to expand her family and experience the joy of motherhood once more.

Your mother's excitement is palpable, her joy contagious as she envelops you in a tight embrace. "OMG honey, I'm so happy," she squeals, her voice filled with unbridled enthusiasm. "I can't wait to tell Rafe."

You offer her a weak smile, trying to match her enthusiasm despite the knot of unease that's settled in the pit of your stomach. "I'm happy too, Mom," you murmur, though the words ring hollow in your own ears.

As she pulls away, your mother's eyes sparkle with anticipation. "I want to get started straight away," she declares, already reaching for her phone. "I'll text Rafe and tell him we're on for tonight."

Your heart lurches at the mention of tonight, your mind reeling with confusion. "Wait, what? Tonight?" you echo, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. "Isn't the doctor's office closed?"

Your mother pauses, a puzzled expression flickering across her features. "Y/n, we're not going to the doctor's," she explains gently, as if speaking to a child. "We're doing it naturally, for the best results. I thought you knew that."

A chill runs down your spine at her words, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

You hadn't realised that her plan involved bypassing medical professionals altogether, relying instead on... what? Luck? Chance? The whims of fate?

The reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, the gravity of your decision becomes all too real. You're about to embark on a journey that could change your life forever, all in the name of fulfilling your mother's dreams.

“Mum, I’ve never you know” you say trying to make her understand without actually saying it. “What honey?“ she asks generally confused. “You know……..had sex before!” Your cheeks blush with embarrassment.

“Oh, honey thats okay. I’ll make sure Rafe takes good care of you.” She says placing her hand on your knee to assure you. You nod, still a bit hesitant. But still willing to do this for your mother, no matter uncomfortable this situation is going to get.

“Great, and don’t worry, you don’t have to any of that threeplay most people do” she smiles, “ewww mum, and btw its foreplay.” You say trying to hid you smirk.

===

That night your mum ushers you towards the bathroom, her voice soft and reassuring. "Go on, honey. Take a nice warm bath and relax. Rafe will be here soon, and I want you to be feeling your best when he arrives."

As you sink into the soothing embrace of the hot water, the cares of the world seem to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility. As you soak in the tub, lost in your thoughts and the gentle rhythm of the water, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation building in your chest.

Just as your about to unplug the bath, you hear someone open the bathroom door. “Hey Y/n, it’s just Rafe. Your mum left for a few hours, to give us some time, so you didn’t feel like you were being waited on.”

Startled by the sudden intrusion, you sit up in the bathtub, water sloshing around you as you turn to see Rafe standing in the doorway. "Hey, Rafe," you greet him, your voice filled with genuine affection. "Thanks for letting me know."

As he steps further into the room, you can't help but feel butterflies in your chest. Rafe walks forward and sits across from you. Breaking the silence, Rafe reaches out to take your hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm.

The connection sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, igniting a fire within that threatens to consume you both. “Your mum mentioned that this is your first time and I wanted to let you know, I’m going to take really good care you.”

Just as your about to speak, his hand slides down your thigh, gently pushing your legs open. Your breath hitches as his fingers find you clit, rubbing tiny circles in it. You legs fall to the sides of the bathtub, letting him move his hand and rest it on you. Soft moans escape your lips as you feel a knot forming in your stomach, a band ready to snap.

Rafe fastens his pace and rubs harder into my bud, something snaps inside me and I feel a gush of liquid spill out of me. He removes his hand and grabs the towel from the wall handing it to me. “Wrap it around you and go and wait on the bed for me, I’m just going to have a quick shower.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard the soft creak of the door opening, and my heart skipped a beat. Slowly, Rafe stepped into the room, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he moved forwards, grabbing your arms gently and helping you rise to your feet. He leaned in and started peppering kisses down your neck and collarbone, he undid your towel and let it drop to the floor. Standing their absolutely nude felt weird and uncharted as this was the man that you mum loves.

He twisted you around and pulled you flush against his chest, you felt the bulge behind your butt. His hands roamed your body, one of his hands grabbing at your left boob, squeezing and massaging the hard bud. His other hand reached down and massaged your clit again, although this time you were wetter.

“So wet for daddy huh!” he whispered. Rubbing faster and faster, my breath hitched and loud moans escaped my lips, “Get on the bed………on your hands and knees” He said in an dominant voice, regathering yourself, you pulled your legs into position.

He dropped his towel and his huge cock sprung up spilling pre cum on his chest. Wiping it off his abs with his fingers he placed the cum on your entrance. The feeling of his fingers spreading around your hole was a something you never thought would feel so good.

Stroking himself faster, you felt a harsh smack on you ass, making you flinch, the sting on the red hand print made you even wetter, so you pushed yourself back against his cock.

“You like being spanked by daddy, don’t you?” Rafe said giving you another slap. “Answer me” He yelled, grabbing my hair and tugging on it,

“Yes”

“Yes what?”

“Yes daddy”

Letting go of your hair he laid beside you “Your mum said no foreplay, but seeing you here now, I just can’t help myself” he explained, running his hand over your lower back.

“Hop on top, and face my cock. I want you to suck on it.” He said smirking, you remembered what your mum said about their not being any foreplay, so you were hesitant about doing it.

“Hurry up, or I’ll fuck you hard” He commanded. Jumping onto his chest, he pushed your head down on to his cock, you took him in your mouth only half fitting due to how big we was, you used your hand to compensate your mouth for the rest of him.

Bobbing your head up and down at a fast pace made you wetter by the minute. Suddenly you felt his tongue licking all around your entrance and his nose rubbing against your clit, the sensation made you go faster and grind down on his face.

Feeling his cock start to grow bigger, you felt the band ready to snap inside you. And just like that you squirted all over his tongue and you felt his hot cum ropes down your throat.

Out of breath you fell to the side, wiping your mouth you looked at Rafe as he hovered over you, grabbing his length his pushed in, you dug your nails into his bicep at the stretch, you breath stopping a second to adjust to him. “Relax” he said pushing himself in deeper, rubbing at your clit, you relaxed more and was able to push all the way in. The stretch was insane, it was mix of pain and pleasure, more so pleasure when he started to rock his hips.

Feeling his length pull out than back in sent your eyes rolling back, he quickened his pace, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, all while still pounding into your dripping cunt.

You were taking him so well and squeezing around him, your body telling him that you were close, was enough to give him the adrenaline boost he needed, picking up speed as he fucked you deeper into the mattress.

“fuck-” you breathed out. “Daddy, i’m-”

“you wanna cum?” he asked, his fingers now digging into the soft skin on your hips as he held himself up.

“mhm..” you moaned out.

“come on then. be a good girl and ask daddy.” his eyes met yours, almost causing you to come undone immediately. His eyes were now black and a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin, his hair to his forehead.

“Daddy, please!”

“yeah, come on, sweetheart. Make a mess all over my dick like the slut you are.”

And make a mess you did. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling as you screwed your eyes shut.

“Look at me while you’re cumming so you know it’s your daddy who’s making you feel this good. Me, my dick, that’s ruining this tight pussy.”

You opened your eyes and held eye contact with rafe as he fucked you out of your high and into his. He let out a string of breathy “fuck”s and “Y/n”s as he released thick ropes of cum into you. Once rafe finally rode out his orgasm, he pulled out of you and flopped onto the bed beside you.

Catching your breath, you laid still until Rafe left the bed and walked into the bathroom, he came back into the room with a washcloth “I’ve never seen anyone squirt as many times as you’ve had. Not even your mother can. Just between me and you, I prefer you over your mother” laughing at his own statement. You made an awkward smile, while he wiped you down.

1 Week Later

“Mum I’m Pregnant” "Oh, Y/n,” your mum exclaimed, her voice filled with emotion. "I can't believe it! You're going to be our surrogate! This is the most incredible gift anyone could ever give us."

Her words washed over you like a wave of warmth, enveloping you in a cocoon of love and gratitude. With tears of happiness streaming down your cheeks, you wrapped your arms around your mom, holding her tightly. "I love you so much, Mom," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I'm so grateful to be able to do this for you."

"Can't wait to fuck the mother of my child again" Rafe whispers, hugging me from behind.

Part 2

🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆🍒💝🤰🏽🍆

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe mf cameron #rafe x reader #obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #pregnant!reader x rafe cameron #rafe smut

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whorediaries-09 · 9 months ago

Text

sweater weather;

pairing- roommate!sirius black x reader warning(s)- fluff, some silly banter, tad bit suggestive. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- aghhh just a brain rot 😞🤍. also this whole series is so self indulgent 🤭

masterlist of 'the seven lives;' series

the slut club

and now, so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater

he doesn’t like cats.

much to his dismay, you’re bending down and cooing at the little kitten that curls up against your ankle. it has got soft blue eyes which reflect innocence. you run your fingers through its black fur, picking the small animal up. he likes the soft smile on your face. it fills his chest with a warm fuzzy feeling he can’t explain. neither can he explain why his heart skips a few beats when he notices the twinkling in your eyes. it almost makes him drown into a frenzy of warmth.

‘can we keep her?’ you ask. there’s something in your voice that sends sparks of electricity down his spine. it’s as if he’s known you his whole life. he doesn’t want to say no, but he can’t help it. he digs the edge of his boot on the loose gravel of the path. twirling around the loops grocery packet between his fingers, he whispers, scared to let the joy in your eyes leave.

‘no,’ he tries to predict your reaction, but fails to. surely the joy in your eyes melts, but the hope doesn’t. from what he knows about you, he knows you’re a stubborn person who stands their ground. you always get your way around in some way or the other. but you’re also a people pleaser. you hate it when you’ve to truly go against somebody’s wishes to do something you want.

so, he watches as you wrap the little kitten between the folds flannel you’re wearing. there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes, a small smirk between the curve of your smile. it’s the same one you wear when you read something mildly suggestive in your books.

‘please, sirius,’ you drawl. the kitten mewls from the folds of the fabric, her eyes glinting the same mischief as yours do. he feels his breath palpitate when you move closer, putting the face of the kitten closer to his.

‘look she wants to come with us too, that’s why she’s mewing,’ you justify. he gulps slowly, his barrier of rigidity slowly breaking. he feels his thoughts melt when he stares at your lips. even though he’s never touched them before, he suddenly thinks he knows them. he feels he can carve every shape, every curve of your body with his eyes closed.

‘okay,’ he gulps. you squeal, a quiet sound from your lips.

he thinks it’s melody to his ears.

‘sirius!’ you shout across the room. your kitten, binx, is curled across your chest, purring away silently as you rub your fingers through her fur. you’re laying down, your feet thrown across the sofa, letting the nail paint on your toes dry. the mild winter allows a soft sunbeam to peek through the windows.

‘what?’ he asks, coming out of his door. he has nothing but a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. several tattoos are inked upon his porcelain skin with happy trail on his abdomen which traces down, leaving less to imagination. his hair is wet and droplets of water trace down his defined pectorals. while you’d been living with him for nearly 8 months now, you’d definitely never seen him shirtless. it makes your chest fill with a strange warmth. it makes your brain short circuit for a moment when he smiles, walking towards you.

‘like what you see?’ he teases, wiggling his eyebrow. you gulp slowly, before you regain your composure.

‘i can’t hear you over the loud music,’ you say, getting up. binx falls on your lap, and she scratches your arms with her nails.

‘hey hey, calm down little woman!’ sirius says, noticing her scratching you. he takes her into her arms, her little paws trying to scratch at a surface.

‘don’t do that to your mum,’ he says, looking into her eyes. she stops fidgeting for a bit, before she mews loudly throwing her paws on his chest and leaving a long scratch across it. it digs deep into his skin, letting out blood.

‘binx! you naughty menace!’ you scold as she scurries off, jumping from sirius’ hold.

‘asshole,’ he murmurs, grasping his wound.

‘i’ll patch it up for you,’ you say.

‘do you trust me?’ you ask, holding the cotton soaked with the antiseptic with a pair of tweezers. you’re standing in between his thighs. he’s wearing nothing but grey sweatpants, being overly dramatic for the scratch on his chest. while you think it’s adorable, you’re sure it’s just for the shits and giggles.

‘i do, but i feel like I shouldn’t?’ he answers, grinning mischievously. he likes your form between his legs he thinks. it makes him go feral, you looking down at him while you fix his wounds. it makes his imagination go wild. the idea of you touching him while he’s half naked thrills something inside his stomach.

you slap him across his shoulder. it’s a soft playful blow and he laughs. his hands suddenly grip your waist, as he pulls you closer, almost mushing his face with your breasts. he watches the breath get stuck on your throat, as you wet your lip, tongue slowly darting out over your lower lips. you’re unconsciously leaning over his face, soaking the cotton ball into his blood.

he sneers as a soft burning pain grows, and his fingers dig deeper into your waist. you unconsciously arch your hips towards him, your hands falling on shoulder. the tension grows, and the heartbeats palpitate between the both of you. there’s a look of dreaminess in your eyes he’s never seen before. he thinks it makes him weak in the knees. you trail your fingernail on a tattoo, before rubbing the antiseptic on his wound.

your breaths are ragged when you finally close his wound with a patch. your job was done, you’d move away. you should move away. but his touch burns into your soul, but it isn’t enough. it feels familiar on your skin, yet so unfamiliar. you lean closer unconsciously as if from muscle memory. you cradle his face, your noses rubbing-

a loud noise of shattering glass distracts you. you pull apart, a flustered look on your face. heat occupies your skin as you crumble into a shell of embarrassment. he lets go of your waist, and you stutter,

‘binx- the little fucking minx-‘you say, before you run off.

you’re carrying a cup of coffee in your hand, running late for your job. a piece of toast hangs from your lips, and you’re running around the house, trying to find your tie.

‘you can wear mineeeee,’ sirius drawls, closing the battered copy of ‘the picture of dorian gray’.

‘i could if you gave it to me!’ you shout, swallowing the last piece of the butter smothered bread.

‘you’ve a nice swallow game, i see,’ he muses. you groan, gulping down the last bit of your bitter coffee.

‘that’s a really bad one!’ you say, tucking your shirt into your trousers. screaming internally, you realize you can’t find your belt either. sirius enters his room, seemingly searching for his tie.

‘can you give me a belt too?’ you ask, hurrying off behind him. binx runs in front of your feet, and in an attempt to not fall on her, you fall on the floor with a thump, followed by sirius who trips on you.

his locks tickle your face, his grey eyes staring into yours with an intensity which reminds you a memory you never had. it’s a minor flash, something of a haze like dream, but you remember it so clearly. your breathing rages, hotness searing through you as his scent and warmth looms over you. there’s a glint in his eyes you can’t decipher, but your memory has it engrained. as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

‘i like it when you’re under me,’ he whispers. it’s a low rasp, one you’ve never heard before, yet it ignites something in you.

something that excites you.

he’s fleeing when he receives your call. your voice was a timid whisper when you’d called him, laced with fear. he hated it, he hated how it sounded. but when he arrives at the bar, he finds you completely safe, surrounded by your friends. you’re chatting happily, your skin flushed with the alcohol that renders through your body. he’s perplexed, till one of your friends spot him. she bats her eyelashes at you, whistling as he walks towards you.

‘what happened?’ he asks. he holds your fingers, gripping them tight. he’s trying to read through your emotions. he’s trying to read you through the happy smile and shining eyes. but he’s too distracted by how happy you look.

‘it wasz a prankh!’ you cheer happily, your drunk state rendering your words.

‘seriously?’ he asks, rolling his eyes. he’s smiling, he can’t help it. you laugh,

‘yess!’ you try to stand up, but trip on your heels instead. he holds you closer, letting you support your weight on him.

‘you’ve had too much to drink,’ he scolds. you gaze at him happily, your hormones getting the best of you.

‘i know!’ you exclaim, feeling the collywobbles consume you as his scent tantalizes into your senses.

‘don’t you think we should leave?’ he asks.

‘should we?’

‘yes,’ he says, pulling you closer. his fingers dig into your skin, feeling your touch. it calms his nerves. still, he needs to hold you closer, to feel you, to know you’re safe.

‘okay i’ll go. will you take me home?’ you ask, an innocence provoked in your voice. he feels himself melt, scarring him and his memories.

‘i’ll do. i’ll always take you home.’

the stars are shining bright on the dark sky. you’ve his leather jacket wrapped around your form, as he holds you close. you reek of alcohol, but he doesn’t mind it. it’s infused distinctly with your perfume, and he finds his comfort in it.

‘hi,’ you say, wrapping your arm across his waist, pulling him closer. he presses a kiss on your hair, breathing you in. it’s perplexing, the burning emotions you let flee in his chest. the warmth he feels with your presence.

‘hi,’ he whispers back. there’s a glazed look in your eyes. he knows it. he remembers it. it reflects him, and he feels as if there’s no one in the world but you and him. his heart beats raggedly, and he’s afraid it’ll pop out of his chest, when you lean closer to him, pressing a soft kiss on his jaw.

‘you’re so beautiful,’ you say, snuggling against him. your heels click against the loose gravel of the path. it’s a moment of softness he wants to cherish forever.

‘but you’re hurting me…so much. i wish i could kiss you. i wish i could hold you like this forever. i wish i could keep you close with me, just for me,’ you ramble.

‘then why don’t you?’ he asks, his fingers cradling your jaw.

‘you’ll kiss me?’ he looks down at you, his eyes scanning your features. the cold air waves over your hair, and he holds your face between his hands. his fingers ghost over your lips. you lean into his hand, as he presses a soft peck on your chin.

‘i’ll do, when you’re sober,’ he promises.

*********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking (if you want to be tagged please reply under this post!)

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders era #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #fanfiction #james & peter & remus & sirius

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moonsandmobilityaids · 14 days ago

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Muggle Benefits

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You get news about your benefits. Warnings: Disability, financial anxiety, ableism, references to invasive government assessments. Notes: This references the UK disability benefits DLA and PIP as those are the benefits I am deeply familiar with. Reader gets the benefits she needs in this fic. Series Masterlist

You’re in your room, sitting in your wheelchair by the window, when an owl swoops in, dropping a letter onto your lap before taking off again. Picking it up, you notice straight away that this isn't a normal Hogwarts missive. It's forwarded from home—from your mum—with the distinctive markings of a muggle stamp on the envelope. Its official look makes your stomach churn: Department for Work and Pensions, it reads, followed by your full name and home address neatly typed out.

An icy tendril of anticipation curls around your heart as your fingers, trembling ever so slightly, tear into the paper. You unfold the crisp sheets within, the crinkle seeming too loud in the silent expanse of your private space. You don't need to read the words to know what this is about—you've been expecting it, dreading it, ever since your sixteenth birthday came and went.

The shift from Disability Living Allowance to Personal Independence Payment was never going to be easy. Even though you were on the highest rate for DLA, the spectre of applying for PIP had loomed over you like the shadow of some unnameable beast. But at least this means they've made a decision—right?

You unfold the letter, your heart pounding as you scan the printed lines. Words and phrases jump out at you: "award," "enhanced rate," "daily living component"—each one a shard of hope piercing through the fog of uncertainty.

A gasp leaves your lips before you can stop it. Enhanced rates for both the daily living and mobility components. You knew what this could mean in theory, but seeing it confirmed in black and white sends a jolt through you that's part relief, part disbelief.

"Your weekly amounts will be..." Your eyes flicker down to the numbers, then widen. For daily living, £108.55. For mobility, £75.75. A total of £184.30 every week—equivalent to £737.20 every four weeks. The figures blur before your eyes, a sudden rush of emotion making them swim.

This is more than you were expecting. More than you dared to hope for. It's significantly higher than the £434.20 you've been receiving on DLA every four weeks. But it's also a lifeline. With this, you might just stay afloat.

Unconsciously, your fingers tighten around the paper, creasing its edges. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, not from joy but from sheer, overwhelming relief. Your shoulders slump as tension seeps out of them, leaving you feeling strangely light.

But there's a knot in your stomach that won't unwind. Not yet. Because now comes the hard part: explaining all of this to James, Sirius, and Remus—your partners who share your heart but live in a world where money works differently, where disability isn't quantified by assessments and payment tiers.

They've seen you in pain, held you through dizzy spells and fatigue so deep it feels like gravity itself pulling at your bones. But they haven't seen the paperwork, the assessments, the endless justifications to faceless bureaucrats who hold your financial stability in their hands.

And why would they? This is a part of your life that exists outside Hogwarts' stone walls, tangled up in muggle laws and systems too complex to explain between classes or over dinner in the Great Hall. You haven't hidden it—not consciously, anyway—but when has there ever been time to sit down and discuss something as mundane as benefits?

But now, with this letter clutched tight in your grasp, you realise how much you've kept from them without meaning to. The PIP application alone took hours filled with medical jargon and questions designed to strip away dignity piece by piece. And then came the assessment—a probing examination that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable in ways you can't begin to articulate.

You sit on your bed, the letter still in your hands. The parchment is smooth beneath your fingers, a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. How do you explain this world of assessments and payments, of medical evidence and tribunal appeals? How can you make them understand what it means to be constantly evaluated, your worth determined by a system that sees only limitations?

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes until you see stars. You want to keep this part of your life separate, tucked away where it can't touch the magic of Hogwarts or the warmth of their love for you. But you know it's futile. This isn't just about you anymore; it's about all four of you.

The realisation settles heavily in your chest, its weight threatening to crush you. But there's also relief—a glimmer of hope amidst the fear. They're your partners, after all. They deserve to know, even if the truth is messy and complicated.

Your hand hovers over the envelope, then slowly, resolutely, you fold the letter back along its creases. It fits snugly inside, like a secret waiting to be shared. As you seal it once more, you make a silent promise—to yourself, to them—not to hide any longer.

A knock at the door startles you out of your thoughts. "Y/N?" James calls through the wood, his voice muffled but unmistakable. "Can we come in?"

You clear your throat, tucking the letter behind you as you call back, "Yeah, it's open."

The door swings inward, revealing James first, his glasses slightly askew and a sheepish grin on his face. Sirius follows, his hair tousled from the wind outside, carrying a plate stacked high with sandwiches. Behind them, Remus slips into the room, balancing several cups precariously in his arms.

"Hope you're hungry," Sirius says, setting the food down on your bedside table. "We may have liberated some things from the Great Hall."

Despite everything, you can't help but laugh. "Liberated, huh? I think there's another word for that."

James flops onto the bed beside you, his arm brushing against yours. The contact sends a jolt through you—comforting, familiar. Safe. He nudges you gently, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, if you don't want any..."

"Hey, I didn't say that." You reach for a sandwich, taking a bite and savouring the taste of something other than worry. For a moment, everything feels almost normal again.

Almost.

Remus sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching you with soft concern. "You okay, Y/N? You seem a bit... off."

"Yeah," Sirius adds, frowning slightly. "Is everything alright? Did something happen while we were gone?"

There it is—the question you've been dreading and longing for all at once. You set your sandwich aside, suddenly aware of the letter still hidden behind you. Could you brush it off, tell them it's nothing? Maybe. But that would only delay the inevitable. And you owe them more than half-truths and deflections.

"No, nothing happened," you begin, reaching behind you for the envelope. Your fingers close around it, the edges sharp against your skin. "I just... got some news today. News I should probably share with you."

James leans closer, curiosity sparking in his hazel eyes. "News? What kind of—"

His words cut off as you bring the letter into view, its official seal catching the light. "News about my DLA and PIP."

The boys' expressions shift at your words—curiosity giving way to confusion—as they exchange a glance.

"D...L...A?" James repeats slowly, as if testing the unfamiliar acronym on his tongue. "What's that?"

"Disability Living Allowance," you explain, tracing the edge of the envelope with your thumb. "It's money I've been receiving from the government for years because of my disabilities."

You look up to find them watching you intently, the earlier levity gone from their faces. Even Sirius has stopped eating, his sandwich half-forgotten on the plate before him.

"And PIP... it's Personal Independence Payment." Your voice is steady, betraying none of the anxiety coiling in your stomach. "When you turn sixteen, you have to apply for it instead of DLA."

"So this..." James gestures towards the letter, brow furrowed in thought, "this is about whether or not you'll get that payment?"

"Exactly." You nod, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The room feels suddenly smaller, the walls closing in as you peel back layers of a reality you'd hoped never to expose them to.

"But why didn't you tell us?" Sirius asks, his grey eyes searching yours. "We could've helped somehow, couldn't we?"

"That's just it, Sirius," you sigh softly, folding your hands in your lap. "There's no magic solution here. Just paperwork and waiting and hoping they see me as disabled enough."

You can see the questions forming in their minds, the gears turning as they try to make sense of something so alien to their world. But there's also understanding dawning in their eyes—a shared acknowledgement of the unseen battles you fight every day.

“They've awarded me the enhanced rate for both daily living and mobility components," you explain, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's... it's higher than what I was getting on DLA."

The relief that floods you is palpable, but so too is the guilt—for every pound they give you, there are countless others who need it just as much, if not more. You swallow hard, trying to stave off the lump forming in your throat.

"That money helps with all the extra costs that come with being disabled," you continue, willing your hands to stop shaking. "Medical supplies, mobility aids, adaptations to my home..."

"And let me guess," James interjects, his tone edged with frustration, "the magical world doesn't have anything like this? We're expected to just pay for everything ourselves?"

Your laugh is hollow, void of any real humour. "Got it in one. No help for potions, tests, nothing."

Sirius' brow furrows deeper at your words, his gaze shifting between you and the letter still clutched tightly in your hand. "But that's... that's not right. It's not fair."

“That's just it, isn't it?" you say, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Fair doesn't really come into play."

Remus, who has been silent until now, leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes never leave the letter as he absorbs each word, each implication with a quiet intensity that speaks volumes.

Sirius shifts closer to you, his arm settling around your shoulders—a protective barrier against the tide of injustice threatening to pull you under. You lean into the embrace, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.

"But what does this mean for you now?" James asks, ever practical amidst the emotional storm. "You said the PIP is higher than the DLA—how much more are we talking?"

"You don't have to—" Remus begins, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

"It's okay," you assure them, pulling the envelope open once more. A sense of finality settles over you as you unfold the crisp paper inside. "I want you to understand."

"DLA was £108.55 per week," you begin, tracing your finger along the printed lines of text. "PIP... the daily living component is £108.55 per week, so the same as DLA, but the mobility component is £75.75 per week."

"So that's an extra seventy five quid every week," James murmurs, mostly to himself. "Every four weeks, that'll be..."

"Around seven hundred and forty pounds, or three hundred pound more than I got before," you finish for him, tucking the letter back into its envelope. The room falls silent again, save for the distant hum of life outside the castle walls. For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine a future not so constrained by financial burdens—a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.

"Well, then," James says at last, breaking the silence with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess we won't be running out of chocolate frogs any time soon."

"More than that," says Remus, his voice carrying a note of gravity. "It means Y/N can afford the care they need without constantly worrying about money."

"Yes," you agree, though your mind still races with what-ifs and how-tos.

The conversation continues, branching out from the benefits themselves to broader implications—what this means for day-to-day living, for future plans, for the fear that has been a constant companion since your diagnosis. Their questions are not limited to the financial aspect, but also extend to what you need, how they can help, and what this means for you going forward.

"You'll have more freedom now, won't you?" Sirius asks, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly—a silent promise of support that warms you despite the chill seeping in through the stone walls.

"I suppose so." A half-smile tugs at your lips as you consider the possibilities. More independence, less reliance on others—it's a daunting prospect, but one tinged with hope.

For a moment, silence settles over the room once again, broken only by the crackling fire and distant sounds of life beyond these ancient walls.

"How do you feel about it all, really?" James finally asks, leaning back in his chair with an air of cautious curiosity.

You pause, considering the question. How do you feel? Relief, certainly. Hope, perhaps. But there's something else too—a sense of unease that lingers just beneath the surface, gnawing at the edges of your newfound optimism.

"It's... complicated," you admit, tracing invisible patterns on the worn upholstery beneath your fingers.

"But we're here for you, Y/N," Remus assures you, reaching across the space between you to place a comforting hand on your arm. "Whatever you need, however we can help—we're in this together."

His words hang heavy in the air, each syllable underscored by the sincerity etched into his features. You glance at each of them in turn—James with his earnest concern, Sirius' protective gaze never wavering, and Remus, steady and unwavering like the moon itself—and something inside you shifts.

It's not pity you see in their eyes, nor discomfort at the reality of your situation. Instead, it's understanding—or, at least, the desire to understand—that shines back at you.

#Poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #james potter x you #james potter x reader #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfic

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j4m3s-b4k3r · 4 months ago

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The Darkest Of Angels

The latest instalment in the MAD MAX series, FURIOSA, is not as inventive as its predecessor, FURY ROAD. There are few moments to match the kooky joy of seeing the DOOF WARRIOR thrashing his guitar made out of a bedpan, atop a truck full of Taiko drummers in this movie. But FURIOSA delivered, and not in the ways expected. It is dark. A post-nuclear Dickensian western. A harrowing tale of an orphan taken to the Wasteland workhouse. With no inheritance to save her day, she wants revenge. There's plenty of George Miller’s signature kinetic storytelling. This isn't mere mayhem, but a thoughtful meditation on war, revenge, grief, and hope, told in 5 chapters.

1: The Pole of Inaccessibility

“Do Not Look Away, You Mustn’t Look Away.”

The tale begins in the “Green Place”, an EDEN hidden in the Wasteland. Instead of an apple, a peach is plucked by a little girl - a much younger FURIOSA. For the first hour, the titular character is played by Alyla Browne, who gives an absolutely riveting performance. Many of the traumatic moments that will shape the character are dealt with by this incredible young actor.

Furiosa is soon kidnapped by the motorbike crazies that populate the MAD MAX films. Unfortunately for the goons, Furiosa’s mum MARY JABASSA is a veritable fury, and relentlessly hunts them down. Played by Charlee Fraser, the character isn’t in the story for long but she absolutely fizzes with intensity while she’s on screen. Leaving a white hot afterglow that lasts for the rest of the film. Unfortunately, she is soon dealt with by the villain of the tale.

When we first meet DEMENTUS, he is clothed in white robes, like a desert messiah in his tent. Hemsworth’s performance is one of the highlights of the film. Dementus has a rural Australian accent, and a speaking style reminiscent of earlier generations. This may be lost on anyone without a small town Australian grandfather, but for me it had a chilling effect. At once folksy, familiar and terrifying. Most of the quotable lines from this film are from Dementus. He’s a bad egg, but eminently watchable. A Long John Silver of the desert.

2: Lessons from the Wasteland

"Who's got the goods? The bollocks, the testes to ride with Dementus?! "

Anya Taylor-Joy was arresting, and did wonders with a largely non verbal role. She was a strange choice for the role though. Alyla Browne believably played a child version of Charlize Theron, but Anya Taylor-Joy’s distinctive features and slight frame aren’t going to look like Theron in 10-15 years time.

When Charlize Theron’s FURIOSA spoke with a north American accent in FURY ROAD, I accepted it as possible in Miller’s Wasteland. After all, we’d already learned years ago that way out in the middle of the outback, you might meet... TINA TURNER. So yeah, that accent made sense in 2015. However, we now know that Furiosa’s parents and childhood accent were both Australian. Then, she somehow acquires a North American accent growing up in the Citadel. Surrounded by Aussie War Boys?

George Miller deservedly gets praise for his imaginative visual world building and storytelling, but sometimes his world doesn’t make ‘sense’. I know that these films are best taken as kinetic & operatic comic books, taking place in a mythic world. However, inconsistencies sometimes break the spell, popping me out of the movie watching experience, to ask real world questions.

However, Tom Burke’s Aussie accent was flawless, and his turn as PRAETORIAN JACK was wonderful. A stoic character, with as many wounds and losses as any other wretch in this misbegotten landscape, but who hasn’t lost the ability to be humane.

3: The Stowaway

“Didja see that? How they fought for each other, this little army of two? Where were they going, so full of hope?”

Each MAD MAX film thus far took us to a completely new part of the Wasteland. FURIOSA too shows us a new location, the Green Place. Experienced for mere moments, before being hauled to locations we’d previously seen in FURY ROAD.

Though shown 15-20 years earlier, they looked exactly the same. Instead of seeing The Citadel only partially built, ruled by a younger Immortan Joe (perhaps not yet needing his mask, but already showing the signs of physical frailties?) characters & locations look as they did in a movie set 15-20 years later.The only character who shows the passage of time is Furiosa herself.

George Miller takes big swings with these MAD MAX films, but in completely different ways with each one. FURIOSA is back to a revenge story, which is where the series began, but with a completely different structure this time. Ending on a dialogue in the desert, instead of blow-the-hinges off action sequence. After the excitement of what came before, a verbal showdown in the desert was anticlimactic for some. ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, climaxing with jibber jabber instead of Leone’s gunfight. For me though, this ending (and Hemsworth’s speech) was one of the high points of the film.

The film has many images that stay with me - A time-lapse shot of a young tree growing from a discarded wig. A lizard eats flies buzzing around a skull in the desert, only to be crushed under a racing motorbike tire. Parasailing marauders attack a giant truck from the sky. The sadistically twisted villain wears a child’s teddy bear. Owned by a victim? Or his own children from long ago? What a grimly beautiful world this is.

4: Homeward

“There will always be war. But to get home, Furiosa fought the world.”

Some critics said FURIOSA was “an epic slice of myth-making”, while others called it “a joyless, pointless, pretentious and inartistic slog”. Generally though, critical response was effusive. 90% on Rotten Tomatoes with an 89% audience score. Interestingly, these action films are consistently rated higher by critics than by audiences:

FURIOSA: 90%/89% FURY ROAD: 97%/86% BEYOND THUNDERDOME: 79%/49% ROAD WARRIOR: 94%/86% MAD MAX: 90%/70%

Also interesting, is that FURIOSA’s audience score is the highest of all the 5 films. Stranger still is that this favourable response didn’t result in box office success.. There are many theories as to why this is so. Although some say that this is the best prequel ever, any prequel is by definition unnecessary. Perhaps those that focus on a sidekick character will have a harder time connecting with audiences. Especially if the franchise’s main character is a no show. (Likewise, SHORT ROUND: AN INDIANA JONES SAGA might tank at the box office too, if Indy only has a cameo of mere seconds.)

This gets to why an audience decides to go see a movie. Personally, I just needed to know that George Miller - a director I’ve followed since my teens - was making another movie. That’s it. I was already in line before I knew what it was about. But most people, even MAD MAX fans, lost interest when they heard the famous character wasn’t in it. Joe & Jane Public bond with actors and characters. Directors not so much.

5. Beyond Vengeance

“D’ya have it in ya to make it epic?”

Movies used to be cheap entertainment, that audiences could afford to take a chance on, but they are expensive nowadays. Especially with all the bells & whistles of IMAX and reserved seating. People have been burned so many times by gushing press luring them to lame movies, that positive reviews and ‘buzz’ are now simply assumed to be studio psyops. Flatly ignored. Instead, if it’s a film they are unsure of, many prefer to wait a few weeks and try movies at home, affordably. On the big screen TVs & sound systems bought during the pandemic.

Given FURIOSA’s poor box office, we may never get the 6th instalment in the MAD MAX saga; WASTELAND. Which makes me regret that George Miller hadn’t made that film before this one. FURIOSA isn’t my fave of the MAD MAX films, but ranks high in my personal list. A fantastic addition to this series, that deserved more success than it got, sadly. Seeing George Miller stretch himself, in this mythic world he has constructed over decades, is a true cinematic joy.

“To feel alive, we seek sensation — any sensation to wash away the cranky black sorrow!”

#furiosa #dementus #mad max furiosa #imperator furiosa #illustration #praetorian jack #mary jabassa #cartoons

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fernandopiastri28 · 4 months ago

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quand c’est - part 6 ~ ln4 x op81

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Yet now at 24, he feels a shell of that aspiring kid. The one who truly believed he would be a world champion. That dream, the realness of it seems to have fizzled. Not just because of the diagnosis, but because he knows Oscar, he sees Oscar’s raw talent in his second year of racing. He saw it in Oscar’s rookie year too- and he knows he’ll never have that.

Warnings: sickness, illness, cancer

Lando wakes up, and he’s still sick. It’s expected- no one recovers from brain cancer in a matter of hours, but a part of him continues to believe this is some awful nightmare or a really sick joke.

It must’ve been a fair few hours since he’d gotten the news, because it’s already getting dark outside again.

Lando’s blurry vision slowly clears up the more he blinks. He tries his best to sit up, his arms not complying with him- heavy with the weight of being pierced with IVs and drips.

He leans over as best as he could, a slow calculated move. He checks his phone, calls and messages as far as he could see from his family and the other drivers.

Carlos: Landito

Carlos: Landito are you okay?

Carlos: Is Oscar taking care of you?

Carlos: Mierda

Carlos: You are in my thoughts and prayers. It was a bad crash.

Thanks for the reminder Carlos, Lando fucking knew it was an awful crash. An awful crash during an awful race from an awful driver. Just awful.

Daniel: Lando mate r u aluroght?

Daniel: *alright

Daniel: thinkin of u rn mate

Daniel: i hope you’re feeling better

Lando wonders how many people knew he was in the hospital. He wonders if Oscar had been calling anyone else beyond Logan to talk about how Lando was an insane man who had no care for his own health.

Max V: Hello Lando. I hope you are feeling well and are doing okay. Cannot wait to see you in cota you absolute weapon. You’ll be bonzer.

Max V: Daniel taught me that word. I think it is bonzer or bonza. Not sure

Lando smiles at Max’s messages, his body hurting too much to be able to laugh. Clearly the dutch man has been spending far too much with Daniel as his dialect was becoming more like the Australian’s each day.

Max V: Daniel is very worried for you, I am too.

He presses onto his chat with his mum, clicking to call her. He has 12 missed calls from her, no doubt about whether she knew about not only the hospital, but also the diagnosis. Oscar would’ve been on top of that.

It feels nice to hear his mum’s voice on the other end of the call, even if her voice was scratchy and hard to understand from crying. He asks about his sisters and brother, trying to skirt around the elephant in the room.

When the phone call eventually ends, he swipes his hand over Oscar’s mess of hair. It’s no longer that perfect swoop, more like how he remembered it being in Singapore a year ago, stuck to his forehead and falling down with the humidity.

It’s strange to think of anything about Singapore last year now. Strange to think about his first time being on the podium with his best friend. Strange to think about the ice baths with Oscar, playing padel with George, the feeling of being so disgustingly sweaty at the end of the race- but pure adrenaline and joy overpowering that discomfort.

Now he was left rotting away in a hospital bed, unable to do those same simple and ‘mundane’ tasks.

He misses George, for some reason, a lot.

And Alex, he misses the 2019 rookies group. He misses the beginning of his F1 career- where he didn’t have a care in the world and truly believed he was ‘exceptional’ for being at the top category of motor sports at 18.

If there’s going to be a world champion of either of them, It’ll be Oscar, and it kills Lando that he has to be happy for Oscar knowing that.

A nurse comes in every hour on the dot to either give him another round of either medicine or to note down how his body is reacting to the painkillers. To be fair, he does feel relatively good. His head doesn’t hurt, and he doesn’t really feel anything at all.

Oscar wakes up after a while and just sits with him, making some dry jokes in an attempt to make Lando laugh. He doesn’t laugh as much as he usually would, but that’s because he sometimes only catches every second word. He’s sure Oscar’s being pretty funny though, so sometimes he laughs for the sake of ensuring Oscar keeps talking.

Lando has energy for one thing, and one thing only- kissing. Oscar’s wary about that, cautious like a few little pecks are going to absolutely destroy Lando.

To Lando, he has already braced himself for the fact that he’s going to change with the effects of surgery and chemo- mentally and physically. Maybe future Lando won’t want to kiss Oscar as much.

And maybe he’ll get so ugly that Oscar won’t want to kiss Lando either.

But Oscar caves, as he usually does, and it’s so sweet, so perfect. They kiss, and Oscar laughs into Lando’s mouth when he makes a stupid one liner, not funny to anyone other than Oscar, who is the easiest person in the world to make laugh.

Well, when it comes to Lando. Otherwise, Lando takes the cake for that title.

It feels like being a teenager again, or what Lando imagines teenage romance would’ve felt like. He was too busy with F4, F3, F2 and then obviously all the prep for F1 to ever have enough time to consider having a relationship. But being with Oscar, kissing in a hospital room and quickly separating when a doctor or a nurse walks in is just like how it’s described in movies.

Before Oscar, he only dated Luisinha, which besides the off season and some weekends that weren’t race weekends, he’s never really had time with his partner to be like this.

He has as much of Oscar as he wants right now, has all the time in the world to kiss and cuddle and laugh and talk without having a hundred cameras in their faces.

Lando wants to stay like this forever. Forever adoring, forever adored.

After a few days, the doctors rule him ‘well enough’ to be discharged, which isn’t even something Lando thought would happen. Clearly he’s got a lot about brain cancer to research, because he truly believed he’d be permanently hospital bound.

In reality, he’s only leaving to go back to Monaco and have the surgery there. If he had the surgery in Singapore, he’d be stuck there for months. As much as he likes Singapore- it’s not home, and it’s so humid.

The doctors that have been treating him in Singapore have been in contact with a set of surgeons at a private hospital in Monaco- discussing each precise detail to the tumour and the ideal route of how to remove it. Lando doesn’t listen when the doctors describe it to him, he goes to his happy place instead.

Miami, Florida- the 5th of May 2024

Oscar does listen on the other hand. He’s attentive, noting down each piece of information onto a little pocket book Logan had given the aussie for his birthday back in April. Where Lando zones out and goes spacey, Oscar remembers everything so he can explain it to Lando if he wants to know.

However, Lando does sometimes listen when they speak about the time after the surgery. It isn’t clear when he’s going to be able to race again as it all depends on how much of the tumour they’re able to remove and how his body will react to the chemotherapy.

COTA is completely out of the picture in terms of what he might be able to race in, and to be fair, the rest of the season is a wary grey area. Anything beyond Australia at the beginning of next year just seems too soon, as recovery from brain tumour surgery is 6-12 weeks, and that’s for normal activities- much less racing F1 cars.

For once, he decides to take that advice. Not listening to someone who was genuinely looking out for his health got him into this situation, badly bruised up from a crash on top of the existing tumour and cancer.

Oscar helps draft out an email from Lando to the McLaren team, explaining a situation they are already completely caught up on. Lando watches Oscar’s fingers tap across his laptop keyboard, using all the fancy jargon that Lando wouldn’t even know exists.

If he’s lucky and the tumour can be successfully removed, the doctors tell him he’ll return to his old self. He won’t have the headaches, the brain fog, the poor vision, the nausea. He’ll just be Lando Norris again- maybe slightly different, but better than now.

They don’t like to discuss what will happen if he’s unlucky though.

The bad thing about the tumour is that even though they are able to shrink it through chemotherapy if the surgery is unsuccessful, they’re not sure of the exact spread of it through his brain just yet. The MRI scan didn’t show the complete extent of the tumour, so they won’t know just how bad the situation is until they actually get in there for the surgery.

That’s the exact reason they’re pushing for it to happen as soon as possible- within the week ideally. Because the longer they wait, the more it spreads.

Lando’s had so many doctors and nurses tell him he was lucky that he crashed and ended up in hospital, as it was likely that the tumour would have remained undetected for a solid few more weeks, which could’ve killed him if he left it any longer than he did.

But Lando can’t help but think if he really was lucky, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He wouldn’t have a growing brain tumour, he wouldn't be in hospital, he wouldn’t be going in for surgery.

He’d be racing, he’d be on podiums- he’d be fine.

#f1 #formula1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri #lando Norris #sick fic #fernandopiastri28 #f1 2024 #logan sargeant #carlos sainz #landoscar #lando x Oscar

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azari-31 · 1 year ago

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Two worlds collide - Namor x OC/reader

A/U: so.... it's finally here. Im bad at writing a romantic non angst things, cuz i love angst. I had no idea how to write some scenes, but maybe in a few weeks i'll update it with this missing scenes. For now - enjoy this "masterpiece". Sorry for some mistakes, but i'm not good at english as i want to be. the end. now...

Enjoy!

words; 3700-ish

She hid behind the column and prayed to any deity to stay unseen. Tears ran from her eyes and a silent sob escaped her mouth. She wanted to come back home, to hug her mum. She wanted to reunite with her mother!

The blue people were killing everyone one by one. Screams of guards and priests hurt her ears. She covered them with her small hands, but it didn't help much. That was horrifying. Unconsciously, Azula called to her magic and a fire ring appeared around her protecting her from anyone.

Soon after everything ended.

Screams and yanking of steel; everything went silent. The only sounds were grunts of dying soldiers. Girl managed to open her eyes and looked at the battlefield. Flames slowly went out and left a burned mark on the ground.

A young boy looked at her and offered his hand. He spoke something to her in an unknown language. Terrified, she was looking at him for a relatively long time until one of her fellow prisoners said to her.

-He's asking you to join him. - the closest woman translated the newcomer's words. - He said he sees your talent and that he can provide you with shelter.

-Why? - she turned to this boy and the chains on her ankles crunched. Azula felt as the blood flowed down from wounds. She was weak. Very weak. Girl stumbled, but quickly regained her balance. Chains weighed her down and irritated her wounds. Pain was almost unbearable. She clenched her teeth.

In a matter of seconds one foreign warrior came to her and broke her shackles. With no word she grabbed the warrior’s arm and rested all of her weight on him. Girl didn’t even notice K’uk’ulkan walking towards her.

-Friends? - she looked surprised at the boy's hand and then at him. He wanted to be her friend? It was strange and uncommon for her.

She took a glimpse at the surroundings and finally answered:

-Friends. - flame in her eyes ignited with joy in her heart.

~*~

Many years have passed. Azula has excelled at magic as a witch. Her body was adjusted and used to do more demanding and experienced magic. A curse of fire in her blood was still a problem, but thanks to Namor it wasn’t that much of a problem.

After all these years her friendship with the king of Talokan grew stronger. They were inseparable. They could end each other’s sentences like they read their minds. This bond was something they needed. Both of them had time and no biological family to love. Two kids from different worlds – the surface and underwater. Something no one could think would work. Their feelings grew stronger and suddenly they couldn’t live without each other.

Azula was doing some ancient ritual when Namor came out of the sea. Spirits of the dead were surrounding her and the campfire. It was the time of year, when the spirits of ancestors wanted to meet with the living ones, but in Azula’s tradition it was about giving power to the dead. Her clan believed spirits had to consume their descendants’ magic to be able to survive.

Namor sat down on the rock silently and watched her moves with admiration. This woman was graceful and delicate despite the power that was surging inside. He saw a few burns and wounds from her fire. They made beautiful marks like tattoos, but painful. Many times he had to tend to her wounds, because she was exhausted.

-I got you, Mi Reina. - he said as he caught her. The love for her was so strong.

-K’uk’ulkan. - a smile appeared on her face at the same moment as she saw his face. - Thank you.

-You know I could burn the world for you. - he caressed her face and kissed her forehead.

-It’s my thing, Elio. Your domain is water and stick to it. - she winked with greater smile.

~*~

She barged into the ruined throne room right after M’Baku. She looked around and her eyes stopped at one point. There he was, in the broken window, looking at the young crying princess. For a second she laid eyes on the floor and saw Ramonda’s unconscious body. From that moment everything went silent.

-Bury the dead. Mourn your losses. You’re the Queen now. - Suddenly, the meaning of Namor’s words came to the witch. One look at the scene; Shuri stopped by M’Baku, Okoye and Nakia trying to resuscitate Ramonda and Riri. This was enough for her. K’uk’ulkan looked at Azula for the last time before he decided to go back. Her rage turned into blue-ish flames covering her arms.

-Estas muerto, Namor. - she threatened and sent a fireball at him. Before Namor disappeared, she could see the betrayal in his eyes. When he was already gone, she snapped out of trans and didn’t think twice of what she was doing. The flames vanished spontaneously leaving her skin burned.

Okoye was still trying to resuscitate Ramonda, but her efforts were in vain

-She has passed. - silent words came out of Nakia’s mouth. Everyone heard it, but not Azula. Witch forced her whole body to move. As she was close, she pushed Okoye away and kneeled beside Ramonda. Azula took a knife out of her pocket and cut the inside of her hand. Then she put it on the queen’s chest, tainting the material of the dress.

-It’s not too late. - Azula said to herself. - There’s still hope. I feel her spirit. - she wiped tears away from her face and started some incantations. Her voice was cracking, breaking every few words. Even breath control didn’t help. She put everything in that spell; her emotions, feelings, even her soul. Damn it, she would sell it to Satan himself if she could. She couldn’t fail this time, she just couldn’t.

Witch felt the curse kicking in, but it didn’t stop her, even made her sacrifice more for a friend. The feeling of her magic devouring her from inside was excruciatingly painful. At some point she heard her scream. Azula forced every molecule of her body to do as she commanded. The flames subtly covered Ramonda’s body and pumped life energy inside.

Suddenly she encountered a void. An empty vessel without even the smallest signs of life. Azula’s magic hasn't had anything to become an anchor. Nothing worked. Even draining from her life forces didn't help. Flame in her dangerously dimmed inside.

Like behind the mist, she saw Shuri crying over her mother's corpses. She failed. Again. Tears started to flow from her eyes and blurring her vision. Drained out of energy, Azula barely stood up by herself. She looked at the ruined throne room and tragedy in front of her before she left them. She had unfinished business with someone.

~*~

Azula entered Namor’s chamber like it was her own. Inside she encountered his third-in-command. They weren’t friends for a long time, but now this “not caring about the other” turned into hatred.

-Leave us alone. - she commanded with her strong voice, but the warrior didn’t even flinch. Commander waited for her King’s reaction. He nodded and the talokanian warrior left the room. From now on they were the only people inside. The silence between them was terrifying and tension was almost touchable.

-Long time no see, Zaz… - he wanted to greet his friend, but didn’t have a chance. She pushed away his hands. Next thing she did was attack him verbally.

-Cut that shit, Namor. We both know what you did.

-So it's no longer 'Mi Corazón'? Not even Elio? - he asked playfully, with a little bit of sarcasm. But under this facade he hid the little fear. She had magic in her possession. Five hundred years of magical experience and knowledge.

-You attacked Wakanda against our agreements. - The witch's voice was harsh and washed from emotions. - The country of my beloved friend!

-They didn’t pick a side and that was my warning. And now I need you to help me destroy them once and for all. - the calm in his voice sent chills down her spine. For a moment she forgot how dangerous he was. Underwater, in his domain, she had low chances for winning in a direct fight. Of course Azula could beat him, even kill him, but it required time. And he wouldn’t give her that in a fight.

-You killed their Queen! - she shouted, but her voice seemed flat, once again washed from any form of emotion. Her eyes were piercing his very soul. He wanted to flinch, but his pride didn't let him. When he looked at her, in her irises he saw something that he didn't think he would see again. It was something primal, something wild and untamed. Something from her past.

-That was necessary. And I don’t owe you any explanation. - he said and looked away from her piercing gaze. It was often fascinating, but this time it was paralyzing. Sometimes he felt like beneath Azula’s skin a monster was hidden. Like she was a monster in human flesh. Or rather unsatisfied, ferocious flame.

-I can curse you forever and you will never experience the feeling of water again. - she started her tirade on him. She didn’t even try to hold her magic anymore. She wanted to do a scary spectacle. - I can make you as weak as the human race is, even weaker than them. - woman threatened him with magic focused in the palm of her hand.

Her fingers touched his skin subtly as the magic tightened its grip on his throat. Suddenly he felt like his power and vitals left him. The feeling lasted only for a short amount of time, but it was strange, almost frightening for him. Now he knew Azula thrived as a magic user and was much more powerful than before, when she left Talokan and him for the surface world. But still he didn’t know her full potential, neither did she.

-Even then I will not change my decision. - he hissed through his teeth. He couldn't let her know how scared he was. - My people will follow me and do everything to protect Talokan. - he answered with confidence and calm worthy of the greatest king and warrior.

-You’re ready to start a war with the surface? - Azula was surprised by the decision of her friend and the idiocy of the plan. But the rage was more powerful and it quickly covered every other thoughts and emotions. - Fully knowing the consequences of not having an alliance with Wakanda? Or any powerful ally?

-I won't make a pact with them anymore. They had their chance. - he turned to the paintings and it looked like he studied it for a moment. The picture showed a short story about how Azula met him and became the Protector of this city. And his heart. - And they rejected my offer.

-Why? - she asked while holding her anger and grief in check. They both knew bad emotions were the best fuel for her dark magic, even better than sacrifices. He learnt it the wrong way a long time ago and didn't want a reround.

-One of them killed a guard. - as the meaning of words came to her, she looked at him stunned. Someone didn’t tell her all the facts and truth. She knew Talokanil meant everything to Namor. He could do anything for them, even die if that meant he protected them. The fact that someone killed one of his subjects was terrifying. For sure it was Nakia, because Shuri and Riri had no weapons to execute anyone. - That is the real reason for my aggression towards Wakanda. That’s how Talokanil and K’uk’ulkan return the favor.

-Tell me one thing. - she asked, fighting with the urge to destroy something and crying from helplessness. She kept her composure with the last piece of energy she had left. - Why am I not even surprised by what you want to do? - the pain in her voice was almost touchable for the ruler of the underwater kingdom. - You killed their queen, destroyed their capital and you want more?!

-I'll bring justice for my people.

-That’s not justice! That was pure revenge. - she hissed. Magic flames almost covered her irises for a brief moment. And yet he took a step towards her.

-I must secure Talokan’s future. That was always my goal and you knew it from the beginning of our relation. - K’uk’ulkan answered confidently, trying to keep his emotions and feelings hidden. Now he wasn’t sure about which side Azula picked. Just in case, he must’ve been prepared for everything. - And Wakanda will be our warning for the surface world.

-I could kill you right now ‘cause of your broken promise. - she warned him while she stepped further from him. The feeling of her magic surprised him again. It was climbing from his feet. They looked deeply in each other's eyes fighting a wordless battle. The face of a man she loved so deeply for years; now she didn’t recognize it, like it belonged to a completely different person.

-We were friends once. Why can’t we go back to those times? - he asked, and his look softened. He tucked a strand of her hair in his fingers and gently put it behind her ear. She knew he was trying to make her choose him, but she already decided. - Join me and … - he started, but the witch stopped him in the middle of the sentence.

-In the name of the friendship we once shared, from the respect to each other we once had I won’t kill you this time. - she said and turned her back to him. She made a few steps to the doors, but stopped about 1 meter in front of the exit. - Next time we’ll meet on the battlefield… We won’t fight on the same side. And I won't be that merciful as I am today. - K’uk’ulkan noticed gathering tears in her eyes. Instincts forced him to wipe them away, but he resisted this urge. It wasn’t appropriate and wanted by her. It would end terribly for both of them.

-Azula… - he tried again, but he failed once more. All his thoughts were focused on this woman and how he could persuade her to stay with him and fight by his side. He couldn’t lose her as an ally, but mostly as a friend. Not because she was powerful, but because she was the closest person he had after his mother. But something she said next broke his heart into a million pieces irrevocably.

-You really are a niño sin amor. - she said before vanishing from Namor’s chamber. A one single drop of tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. Today she lost two of her friends. How much must she lose before she can live peacefully? - she asked herself while she went back to her room in Wakanda's palace. She only prayed that the upcoming war won't end by his or Shuri’s death.

Why does she always have to suffer? Why can’t anything go strictly as it was planned? And why does it always involve hurting someone close to her?

~*~

She sat alone on a rock for a long time now thinking about everything that happened. She knew she did everything she could, but couldn’t help herself. She blamed herself for Ramonda’s and T’Challa’s deaths. She could prevent those events from happening, but she failed. And now she had to pay the price.

-Zaz? - he asked, surprised while walking out of the water. He didn’t expect her coming to Talokan nor even calling him ever again. They were enemies with a shared, and maybe for her, unwanted past. But there she was, waiting for him.

-You came. - she smiled slightly. Namor could only see her right profile. Her eyes were directed into the sunset. The beach she chose meant something to both of them. They met here for the first time and became friends.

-You called. - he answered and took a few steps in her direction. He stopped right in front of her and sat beside the rock. They watched the sunset together in complete silence. Instinctively she put her hand on Namor’s head and started playing with his hair.

In this precise moment there was nothing else, but them and the setting sun. He gently put his head on the side of her thigh. Namor just wanted to be a normal man, even for a short while. And all that mattered for her was to be with him.

-Mi corazón. - she whispered, still looking at the horizon. It felt like they went back in time, when they were just lost, abandoned kids. - Do you remember our talk about our lifespans? - he nodded in agreement. - I wasn't entirely honest with you that day.

-What do you mean?

-You can live for about how many years more, huh? It's gonna be at least 500 years. We don't know that. - she shrugged without any other move - On the other hand, I knew that you would outlive me. I use dark magic and this type of magic focuses on sacrifices, like plants or animals. Or the user's life force. I did it to extend my life, but it was only temporary. I always knew that.

-But you perform sacrifices every time. You were very cautious about it. - a sad smile showed on her face for a second and quickly faded.

-I told you this a long time ago and I'm gonna tell you again. Every…

-What did you do? - he asked, scared of what she could do or already did. He couldn't afford to lose her now. Nor ever.

-...thing has a price. And I didn't pay the price for defying death twice.

-What do you mean by "defying death"? - he asked, terrified. As the last words came out of his mouth, Azula turned to him and showed her full face. The left part was missing. It looked like it was burned. Namor looked at her in shock.

-Year ago I tried to bring T'Challa back to life. It didn't go well and from that moment I balanced between life and death. Second time was right before Shuri took the throne. I struggled with resurrecting Ramonda, but that went even worse than I expected. - she spoke last words shyly, like she didn’t want to admit it to him. Admit that she failed. Even if it was his fault.

-How long… - the man tried to ask, but he couldn't say anything.

-I have a few minutes, maybe less. - she replied shortly. - If it's about how long I hid this from you and others… - she pointed at the scarred part and tried to smile, but it didn't work. - More than a year. It became worse after T’Challa’s failed resurrection.

-No… - Namor said, still not believing in Azula's words.

-You craved for an answer why I called you today. So here it is. I wanted to see my old friend and the love of my life for the last time. - she smiled slightly. Her answer seemed honest and genuine; no hooks or hidden meanings.

-I asked you once if you could be Mi Reina. - he smiled and joined their hands together. It felt good, like they were meant for eachother.

-And I said 'over my dead body'. - woman chuckled quietly.

-But you already were the queen of my heart. - He confessed and looked at her. In her eyes he saw joy and tiredness. Both feelings were fighting with each other for dominance, but neither could win. For now, all she felt was overwhelming joy. She'll die in the arms of a man she loved for so long.��

-Can I ask you for something?

-Anything for you, Mi Reina. - he couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, but he had to. That was her goodbye to the world and to him. And he couldn’t stop it.

-Try to love the surface and its people. They've changed, the world has changed. And you will find someone worth trusting. Just give them a chance. - she asked him. All she ever wanted was to be with him. Just like now, only two ordinary people, no more nor less. But that was a dream, and her dreams never came true.

-You are the only part of the surface world I love. - his attempts to hold his tears failed. Soon one tear ran down his cheek and after this another came. It shocked Azula to her core. Last time she saw Namor crying was after his mother’s death.

-But not the last. - her words were full of hope and kindness. He couldn’t believe how she could be so kind and happy and hopeful in her last moments of life. He barely believed that moment existed and it was real.

-I always loved you, Mi Reina. - he said with a fading smile. He did not hold back his tears. - And I always will. - he gently put a kiss on her forehead.

-See? They were wrong. - she smiled through her and his tears. - You can love. - he watched as she took her last breath and her eyes closed for eternity. Her grip on his hand loosened up and the heart stopped beating. With tearing eyes he hugged her dead body to his own. All those years lost because of thought he knew better. Her death was caused by his selfishness and not listening to his best advisor. The flame in her was gone. And with that his last piece of love for the surface world.

~*~

He already missed her heartbeat and her smile. Her true happy smile. Everyone he loved was dead. But Talokan still existed. And with it her flame and dream did too. That was the only thing that mattered now.

The funeral ceremony was made with great respect.Talokanil farewelled her like a Queen, whom she was for them. He wanted to bury her underwater, near him and his people. But that was his selfishness speaking.

Long time ago she confessed to him about her wishes of last destination. She mentioned one place. A small city by the sea, near Alicante. Her hometown. That, he remembered. And she deserved this, to be buried in her ancestors’ home. Nevertheless, she deserved to live even more.

-K’uk’ulkan. - Namora greeted her king. Even she felt grief. Azula gave her heart to this kingdom and its people.

-Yes?

-Queen Shuri is asking you to take Azula’s tomb. What shall I say?

-That I’m going with them to make sure her last wish will be executed properly. - Namor commanded. He took a glimpse at the mosaic of him and Azula. Kids from 2 different worlds marked with violence for the rest of their days. Even after 5 centuries he would do the same thing; he would still ask Azula to be his friend. And he would finally ask her to become his queen.

#namor x reader #mcu namor #black panter wakanda forever #wakanda forever #marvel mcu #witch #fire witch #mcu fanfiction #namor fanfiction #friends to enemies #enemies to friends to lovers #lovers to enemies #angst #oneshot

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etherealspacejelly · 10 months ago

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whats it like being a grownup??

honestly? its been a blast so far!

once i turned 18 the first things i did were change my name legally and get myself on the wait list for gender services. its been 2 years now and every day i am a step closer!

i had a job for a while and made hella money and was able to buy a bunch of cool stuff that i wanted and i still have a bunch of it left over that i am saving to get top surgery

i moved out of my mums house! that has been Unreal in improving my mental health. i had no idea how much living with my parents was getting me down until i was out of there. i am now in full control of my time, my body, and my space.

a strange side effect is that teenagers seem so Young now. when you are 14 you feel so grown up and you think you look and act like an adult but then suddenly you are 20 and looking at all the 14 year olds like My God These Are Children. but like. not in a "you shouldnt have autonomy and i dont respect you" way, more like "why is no one protecting you from The Horrors??? why is no one loving you and supporting you and telling you you're doing great??? why would anyone be mean to these kids!!"

and just because you're an adult doesn't mean you have to grow up lol. i still sleep with plushies in my bed and have fnaf posters up on my walls. just because you have to do your own food shopping and laundry doesnt mean you cant also play in the park with your friends.

you have so much life ahead of you. it doesnt end when you turn 18. yeah some stuff sucks but some stuff Always sucks thats life under capitalism babey! you gotta find the little joys. remind yourself of how far you've come and how much better things are. being a grown up is about freedom. its about autonomy. its about being In Control. and yeah that means you gotta keep your flesh prison alive and clean but it also means you get to spend your time however you want! and thats awesome

and it also means you get to look out for the kids the way you wish grown ups would have looked out for you. :)

#inbox #ask #inbox open

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moorishflower · 7 months ago

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Chanting from the sidelines "baby acquisition! baby acquisition!" though I have to say, all your WIP names are intriguing :P

Constantine isn't mom material.

He goes to Constantine, first. This is a mistake. “What the fuck do you want me to do?” she asks. Her flat reeks of smoke. Not just tobacco. Incense, myrrh, burnt blood. Dream has the sense already that this is not an ideal environment in which to leave a child, but. Humans are strange. He knows nothing of their care and feeding. Orpheus had been the son of a goddess, the son of an Endless – had fate willed it, he would have sprung forth from his mother’s womb fully-formed and fighting-fit. He had not. There had been lessons for him to learn, in infancy, in helplessness, in finding joy and wonder in mortality. He realises now, centuries later, how those lessons had steered his son wrong. He will not make the same mistake. Let like raise like. “Care for the child,” he tells her. Constantine’s eyebrow raises. “And raise it as my own?” she says. Her tone strange. Wisps of a story about her: a belltower, an orphan, a cruel master. Dream recoils, instinctive, and she laughs. “Fuck off. I’m not mum material.”

#the sandman #ask game

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icanttalkimhavingacrisis · 3 months ago

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Golden thought from mother of the day:

*about my OCD*

"I think you're making some of it up. You're making yourself believe this stuff, you know. Just get out of your head!"

#joy has thoughts #jonny has a strange mum #seriously tho #huh?????#i do in fact have ocd

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imagitory · 11 months ago

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So my mum and I were revisiting one of our all-time favorite Christmas movies, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and I think maybe -- just maybe -- there's some really fun symbolism we've all been missing out on. And it all has to do with our main character Scrooge and the color red.

Okay, so at the beginning of the film, Scrooge is in all black, from head to toe. It makes him this wonderful dark shadow over the rest of the cast, and also makes him immediately stand out when he's in public, since everyone else is much more colorfully dressed.

Contrast this especially to the people who are closest to him, Bob Crachit and his nephew Fred.

Well, well, isn't this interesting...both of them have red in their costumes. Even later on, at Fred's Christmas party, we see his wife also wearing red.

The Ghost of Christmas Present -- the ghost who in this film arguably influences Scrooge the most out of all of them -- has a bright red beard...

Oh yes, and we mustn't forget that our favorite narrator "Charles Dickens" is also wearing a bright red coat. (Even his friend Rizzo has some red in his scarf.)

Red as a color can mean lots of different things symbolically -- violence, passion, anger, courage, danger...but I think the one most relevant to this reading is love and warmth. Why? Because even when we see Scrooge as a young man prior to the "all black" treatment, his definitive color is a dark blue.

Notice how much cooler young Scrooge's overall color palette is compared to the much flashier, rosier Fozziwig. (And yes, I think that rosy palette is on purpose -- in the film, Scrooge even describes Fozziwig as being "as hard and as ruthless as a rose petal.") It also makes it so that when Scrooge meets Belle (at this point dressed in pale green with pink rose details), their palettes compliment each other a little bit more, even if Belle's look is still softer, lighter, and warmer in tone to Scrooge's cool, serious ensemble.

But when Belle and Scrooge part ways, we see them wearing colors that contrast much more. Scrooge is still in cool, detached blue, but Belle is in...

Red. Specifically, like Bob and Fred, she has red right around her neck, in the form of her bonnet's ribbon. And it's presumed that over time, after losing Belle and withdrawing more into himself and his own greedy self interest, that Scrooge lost the remaining color of his life and became the cold, black-hearted moneylender we see in the film.

Then of course Scrooge goes through this radical transformation thanks to the Ghosts of Christmas, as we all know...and the very first Christmas present he receives, as a thank you for his charity, is from one of the charity workers, played by Beaker. What is it?

A red scarf.

It's a gift given in the spur of the moment, and yet from Scrooge's reaction, we can tell it's something foreign to him. It's likely it's been ages since he's received such a modest, and yet heartfelt gift from anyone. Scrooge feels the warmth of the gesture, not just because a scarf keeps one's neck warm, but because it was given out of such sincere gratitude and kindness. And as startled as he is by it, he responds with such sincere joy, and wears it happily for the rest of the day. He wears that warmth as easily as Fred and Bob wore it earlier in the film -- as if it's become a part of him. And in a strange way, it has.

For the first time, arguably in his whole life, Scrooge has a true understanding of selfless, loving warmth. The warmth that he should and does feel for the people most central to his life and identity -- his nephew and niece-in-law, his loyal subordinate, his first employer, his first love...even the Spirits who taught him the true "meaning of the season." A kind, generous warmth that permeates the entire story of A Christmas Carol because it's what Charles Dickens loved so much about the holiday season and so wished to spark in his audience.

#the muppet christmas carol #analysis #opinion #the muppets #christmas #ebenezer scrooge #a christmas carol #disney

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catkin-morgs-kookaburralover · 9 months ago

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ways to build confidence/appreciate your appearance

I had someone ask me how I try and build self confidence and appreciate my own appearance, and while I'm a massive hypocrite, I figured that what I wrote in response to her was a good public post. Here's my suggestions. None of them are unique, just what occurred to me:

This is obviously fraught with difficulties depending on your circumstances, but one thing that's helped me is sharing pics of my face with one of my friends who loves how I look. The way she'll boost my confidence is excellent. Obviously you probably shouldn't do that with people you barely know, or online (though this friend is online, I only showed her my face after we'd had several voice calls and stuff so I knew she's not a dodgy person) (yes it's a mutual) (I love you mutual).

Also! Wearing clothing that makes you feel attractive in whatever way. Like if there's a colour that makes your heart sing for joy over it, find that and wear that. Anything you look at and go Yes This Is Right, wear it. I have a few tshirts that I particularly like; for me, those are Strange Planet tshirts, but it'll be different for everybody. Find your own 'style', if you can - that doesn't need to be like 'replace your whole wardrobe', I'm talking 'find things you really like, and get them if you can, and wear them'. Make them, if that's something you want to do and have the opportunity to do. My wardrobe is largely op shop things, with a few that I've specifically bought, or materials I've grabbed and got my mum to make into dresses or skirts, while they're on clearance. It just takes time, sometimes.

Body neutrality is also another concept that I've seen around. I find it... not great, personally, though it helps sometimes. Your body is just that: a body. It means you can do the things you want to do. It carries a brain that you use to think. It's a body. Don't overthink it. (I do overthink it, of course, but like. we're supposed to work on not doing so lol.)

Another important one for Christians is the thing I too often forget, which is that we're loved by God. God designed us the way he designed us and he did it for a *reason*. We may not know that reason, but it was a reason. I was once told by a Christian doctor that I needed to not get in the way of God's plan for my life. I don't necessarily know God's plan for my life, but God does.

And if we're talking things like having an ED, SH or any of those nasty little rabbit holes (I say that as someone who has both), they're highly maladaptive coping mechanisms. I'm not going to say they're good ones, but they can be replaced with better coping mechanisms - that's one thing that therapy's good for, but also you can look up CBT/DBT handbooks if you want to learn some of that stuff. I know I've looked up the handbook I was given by my psych before, and found I could download it freely on the internet.

Ultimately, I think, try and find things you like about yourself - physical or not. For instance, I like my stubbornness and how competitive I can be. Those have downsides, of course, but I like them for the most part. Physically, I like the fact that I'm a ginger. I'd advise you to try and make a list of things you like about yourself, to remind you of what you do like, not just what you don't. When we're not feeling great, our brains can bombard us with all the things we do badly or perceive ourselves as doing badly. Having a concrete list can help to remind you like 'oh actually I like this thing about myself'. Remembering, too, that there are people who love us just the way we are (and God loves us too) can help. I don't know why the people who care about me do care about me, but they do and I gotta remember that.

I cannot overstate the clothing one enough, honestly. Wearing things you feel nice in is important, regardless of whether they make you look conventionally attractive (and wearing things you're comfy in will make you attractive to someone, and even wearing a potato sack, if you enjoyed it, you'd find someone who liked you wearing a potato sack).

Anyway there's the end of my list. I might add on to it later.

#positivity #encouragement #chrumblr #christianity #appearance #recovery #healing journey #personal #catkin rambles

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gay11aliens · 3 months ago

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Thank You

feeling sentimental and need to fucking say it so-

thank you dad for raising me and doing art with me and even though you’re shit at talking still trying with me, you are amazing and I hope you live forever. Thanks mum for being nice and calm and patient most of the time, I’m sorry I’ve distanced myself from you but I don’t like what you’re trying to do right now. Thank you group chat for welcoming me even though I had no clue about the drama, I understand why you wanted me gone, but I swear I was never anything but good intentioned when it came to you guys, and you showed me how nice online friends can be, I really hope you all are doing well.Thank you Strange for still liking my posts, I think you’re awesome :). Thank you Nana for being chill and chatting to me about random stuff, it’s nice to have a friend like that, even if they’re online. Thank you Cy for being one in a million and so kind and friendly to me, I hope I get to see you again because I have never loved a friend more. Thank you Lucille for being so genuine and giving me a two for one deal on hot cheetos you’re fucking awesome and I’m glad we still text #sigma. Thank you B for being nice and giving me a little gender euphoria, you never deserved what happened and I hope you know how much Cy loves you. You were definitely the most unforgettable person I have ever met, and although I admit I was always on the fence about you, you were pretty cool :). Thanks M for being my friend since kindergarten even though you are way to unpredictable for you own good and love 90s punk bands, you’ve still been there from the start. Thank you Mackenzie Lee for writing that series, it brings me so much joy and happiness even if it is an obsession I can’t get away from, it gave me so much and I wish I could return the favour. Thank you to the characters in those books, you are so perfect I can’t put words into it. Thank you everyone who has been in my life because I know I will add more people on here as time goes on and anyone I leave out, I still appreciate (unless you were a fuckwit) I’m so glad I’ve met so many great people and I want to express my gratitude for them <333

@resident-danmei-enthusiast

@bananapudding752

@heaven-sent-hell-bent

#thank you #people in my life #This is a kind of speech thing I think #I’m serious about this whole thing btw #Books #author #mackenzie lee #montague series #Family #I’ll add my sibling later lol #<3 #group chat #friends #thanks if you read all of this #Gratitude #sorry if I tagged you and you didn’t want me too I’m just wanting people who I know on here to see this #And I’m kinda taking a risk tagging some of them 😅#Actually I backed out tagging one of them lol I don’t think he wants to know abt this

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sybill-the-seer · 1 year ago

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Loved

Read on AO3

Summary: Harry didn’t know much about his parents growing up, but in the wizarding world he learns something very important about them.

Note: Not my best writing imo, but it was a slow day at work today, so I whipped up this little thing. @hinnyfied’s fic “Fireside” has me all in the feels thinking about Harry getting to know his parents.

Disclaimer: I have used some direct lines and quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

Prompt: hate/love

His parents hated him.

Harry was sure of it. If they hadn’t hated him, why would they have left him here? He had never known his mum and dad, but Aunt Petunia had.

Aunt Petunia said they were irresponsible.

Aunt Petunia said they were drunks.

Aunt Petunia said that if they had loved him, they wouldn’t have driven while drunk with him, a baby, in the car.

Harry had no proof to the contrary, so it must be true. Aunt Petunia had known them after all. Uncle Vernon too. Harry didn’t know anyone else who had known his parents. Perhaps they hadn’t had any friends — he certainly didn’t.

Sometimes Harry liked to think that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were liars. They lied to Dudley sometimes, after all. They told him all sorts of things that Harry knew weren’t true: that Father Christmas was real, that Dudley was a sweet angelic little boy, that Dudley’s school teachers had nice things to say about him, that Harry was a freak…

Well, Harry wasn’t so sure about the last one, but he liked to hope it was a lie. Strange things did tend to happen around him, but perhaps it was just coincidence. Perhaps Harry just had very, very bad luck.

His entire existence at Privet Drive was bad luck after all.

Yes, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon lied about some things, but it was hard to believe the things they said about his mum and dad weren’t true. Not when they had known them and Harry hadn’t. Not when Harry couldn’t think of any reason for them to lie about them. And especially not when Harry couldn’t think of any other reason for why they seemed to hate him so much.

His parents had been terrible people.

His aunt and uncle hated them, and hated him too.

His parents had never loved him.

And if they hadn’t loved him, who else possibly could?

Harry felt the familiar ache in his chest, the cold sensation that seemed to creep up on him, enveloping him completely whenever he came to this conclusion. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and stared harder at the spider creeping up the cupboard wall, wishing for sleep to claim him. ____________________

His parents hadn’t died in a car crash. At least, that’s what Hagrid told him. Being murdered by a dark wizard was terrible, but he supposed it was still better than what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had told him. At least now he knew for sure that they had lied — and that meant they might have also lied about his parents not caring about him.

Harry had started to come to terms with the fact that he might never know for sure how his mum and dad had felt about him, but was content with what Hagrid had told him. Until he found the mirror.

Green eyes looking back into his with the most tender expression Harry had ever seen. Brown eyes and dark hair, a broad smile. Tears of happiness leaking from his mother’s eyes as both his mum and dad looked at him with pride and joy in their faces.

They loved him.

Harry pressed himself against the mirror, staring at them hungrily, wishing he could fall through the glass and into their open arms. He would live with them in the mirror forever if he could. ____________________

The Philosopher’s Stone was safe, and he was alive. Professor Dumbledore was talking to him in the hospital wing. Dumbledore was answering his questions good-naturedly, and Harry was determined to ask him everything.

“But why couldn’t Quirrell touch me?”

“Your mother died to save you,” Dumbledore said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world. “If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign...to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin.”

Harry could hardly breathe. The ache in his chest was back, but this time it was different. A powerful mixture of grief and love as he had never felt it before seemed to have gripped him, and he couldn’t seem to look Dumbledore in the eye.

They loved him.

The mirror had been one thing, but hearing Dumbledore confirm it out loud was certainly another. Nearly eleven years of doubt and hurt couldn’t be vanquished with a few simple words, but in that moment Harry could almost feel it leaking out of him, the remains of some toxin that had lived within him for so long, invisibly eating him up from the inside.

Dumbledore’s simple words were hardly simple at all, Harry thought, if they changed everything. He was glad Dumbledore looked away as he dried his eyes on the crisp hospital sheets.

Later, when Hagrid handed him a handsome, leather-covered photo album, Harry became overwhelmed once again.

“Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos ... knew yeh didn’ have any...d’yeh like it?”

Harry couldn’t speak, but Hagrid seemed to understand.

Note: The fact that it's canon that little 11 y/o Harry gets emotional hearing his parents loved him always gets me in the feels. Someone give that baby a hug <3

#harry james potter #jily #dursleys #fanfic #sorcerer's stone #philosopher's stone #hp book 1 #canon compliant #hogwarts #angst #hurt/comfort #dumbledore #hagrid

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