#me: has spent every day this week crying over stupid shit

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

The Bet

Part one

Eddie is desperate to talk to you but will you ever be able to forgive and forget after learning your friendship was nothing more than a bet? Especially as you had fallen in love with him.

Do you still love him after all that anguish?

Part two.

Warnings: A lot of angst and you'll see..minors shoo! 18+

Don't copy, translate or repost my work.

❤️

A bet. That's all you'd ever been to Eddie, a bet to get one over on your now ex boyfriend, on Jason and the rest of the dark side as Eddie's friend had put it.

Had they spent this whole time laughing at you? Did Eddie get some kick out of stringing you along, stealing your heart piece by piece.

Was everything just a lie?

You had broken up with Bryan a week ago. Sick of his horrible nature and drawn to Eddie, head over heels for him. God you felt like such a fool.

The night you found out about the bet you cried yourself to sleep, walking to school on autopilot. Thank goodness for your friends because you struggled to get through the first day.

Mostly everyone was sympathetic but there was some people who sniggered when you walked past, whispered to their friends only it was so loud that you could hear.

I can't believe how gullible that idiot was

Imagine knowing the freak only got close to you for a bet

Serves that bitch and all the rest of Jason's idiots and the cheerleaders right for thinking they are so hot.

About time someone took them down a peg

Each thinly veiled barb cracked your already bleeding heart and you hurried to get away from the gossip.

It trickled out a couple days later, once the people had finished finding your pain hilarious, how anyone could find someone in pain to be funny was a mystery to you.

Whenever you saw Eddie you rushed away before he could speak to you, wouldn't look at his face because all you knew from him was lies.

Everything was a lie. He didn't love you, he never did. Your heart throbs with that realisation and you do your best to walk around school, head held up high and the heartbreak tucked up inside.

It was all an act but you were a great actor, you had to be to pretend like you weren't in agony on the inside.

...

It was the worst few weeks that Eddie could remember in a long long time, Dustin was disgusted with him and took a long time to talk to him.

His heart felt like it had been ripped in half and it was all his own fault, you wouldn't even look at him.

If he even attempted to try and speak to you it was to no avail.

The longest sentence you uttered was when he begged you to talk to him, even just one word.

All you said was ''goodbye Eddie" or that ''you didn't believe a word he said"

Steve picked you up from school with Robin every day, wouldn't even let Eddie go near you. Threatened to beat the shit out of him if he made you cry again.

He tried to speak to you again a few days later when Steve had eased up on guarding you, it was agonising weeks of you avoiding him.

You were coming out of cheer practice with Chrissy and another girl, Chrissy glared at him and the other girl looked like she wanted to kill him.

"Can we talk please, princess?'' he pleads and you ask your friends to give you a second and they do, very reluctantly still scowling at Eddie. He deserves that.

"I can't Eddie. I don't have anything to say to you" he swallows, his mind going a mile a minute, trying to think of what he can say to express how sorry he is.

''I messed up. I made a stupid mistake. The worst mistake, because I hurt you. I made a dumb bet to try and get back at assholes who bullied and made my friends and my life hell, it was mean and selfish and I wish I'd never done it" you listen to what he has to say and his heart aches when tears pool in your eyes.

"But you did do it, you couldn't even tell me the truth. You lied to me Eddie and all the time I was...I fell in love with you" he moves forward to cup your cheek, desperate for you to know that he loves you too.

"I love you, I fell in love with you and that's why I couldn't tell you. I couldn't lose you" you stare at him and don't speak for a few seconds, when you do the words split his heart in two.

"That's the thing, you lost me anyway" you walk away from him and he can't think of a single thing to say to stop you. Then he steels himself and runs to catch up with you.

"What Eddie?" you snap and he talks quickly, tripping over his words and anxious to get the words out.

"I hurt you badly, I fucked up and what I did was just fucking awful. I know that. I also know that I'm so in love with you, never thought I could feel this way for anyone but you snuck into my heart and it belongs only to you" you don't say anything but you don't rush away either, so Eddie says one more thing before you do decide to leave.

"I'll wait for you sweetheart, for however long it takes. I don't care how long I have to wait, you're worth every single second"

Tears pool in your eyes and you nod slightly. Ever so gently you squeeze his hand just a tiny bit then walk away, leaving Eddie determined as hell to win your trust again and maybe somewhere along the line your heart too.

💕

It took a while for you to even speak to Eddie for longer than five minutes, but he was nothing if not determined and patient, he's was not screwing this chance up.

At first, you didn't think Eddie was serious about waiting for you, but he was. Endlessly patient and sweet. Big brown eyes full of tenderness and joy when you spoke to him.

It was hard not to find him endearing, but he had hurt you badly and there was still a small part of you that held back, that was hesitant to get close, trying to protect your fragile heart that ached for you to give Eddie a chance.

It's Friday now and after an intense week of cheer practice, you can't wait to relax for the weekend.

Chrissy had been watching you looking at Eddie with longing, the exact same way Eddie looked at you for weeks now. To be honest it was beyond frustrating, the both of you loved one another, it was killing you both to be apart.

So that's why she was saying something to you today. More than anything she wanted you to be happy, if Eddie hurt you again just even a tiny bit then she would kick his ass.

That's before Steve go there first.

"Honey, what Eddie did was wrong and I'm mad as hell at him but anyone can see how sorry he is. He's so in love with you, maybe you could give him a second chance" Chrissy says to you as you sit down for lunch.

You rest your head on Chrissy's shoulder and let out a sigh. ''I want to, I want to so badly but I don't want to be heartbroken again''

Something tells Chrissy that Eddie wouldn't dare. That he would keep his promise to never hurt you so badly again.

She squeezes your hand reassuringly and it calms your anxiety down.

"Babe, he wouldn't dare. He's not stupid. Plus everyone might think I'm a sweetheart but I'll kick his ass if he did and Steve would too. Eddie won't lose you, not again"

The words play on your mind all day and when Eddie is hurrying to his truck at the end of Hellfire Club you pluck up your courage and go to speak to him.

"Eddie" the minute he sees you it's like his whole face lights up. A dimpled smile and brown eyes full of adoration greet you.

"Hey, sweetheart" longing fills the air, stifling you both and honestly you're pretty sick of it. So you take a leap, walk up to Eddie and take his hand.

"Would you mind if I asked you for a ride Eds?'' his hand tightens around yours and he grins, rushes to open the door to his truck and almost trips over his feet in the process. It's cute and you can't help but giggle.

He holds the door open for you. "Princess, your carriage awaits" you head inside.

The drive is short and sweet, Eddie once again being a gentleman as he opens the door for you to step out.

You thank him for the ride and before Eddie can head back into the truck, you kiss his cheek gently, then leave a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips.

The kiss leaves him looking dazed, he touches his cheek then his lips and there's that smile again, the one that melted your heart the first time you seen it.

"One more chance Eddie, if you hurt me again thats it. I mean it" he nods, his face serious as he takes in what you say.

"I swear you won't regret this princess, I love you and I'll spend every day proving that, do you... do you still love me?" he whimpers after a few seconds, his expression wide with worry and fear.

"I've never stopped" you answer back.

After your confession he practically does a little dance as he goes into his truck. Just before you open the door to your house, you hear his whoop of delight before he drives off.

The smile doesn't leave your face all night.

❤️

[blvckm1lk]

You’re his babysitter

[Ghost x You]

Insta: blvck.mvlck [Will start posting bots and fanfics there too]

You loved children dearly. Simon, on the other hand, hated them, to him they were more of a burden than a blessing.

What are children good for? They cry, shit, eat, sleep and cry some more.

He was really tired of this 'being a dad' shit. It wasn't easy.

The baby cried every night for hours until the clock struck morning. He wasn't focused on his duty anymore because of the lack of sleep.

Yes, he hadn't slept much before, but now he couldn't even get two hours of sleep.

That was it, he finally had enough.

He slammed open his computer and searched for a babysitter. He has found an acceptable babysitter for his son.

You.

Simon has been watching your interaction with his son for a whole week. And shit, you're good at what you do.

He enjoyed watching you form a bond with his son, a bond he never had.

Not that he ever wanted one.

In his eyes, he was a mistake that haunted him after a stupid, meaningless fling.

Simon was gone for weeks or months sometimes when he was on missions or deployments, he even set up a room for you in his house and paid you very well. You didn't need any other jobs. So you can concentrate fully on your job; his one-year-old son.

His son loved you endlessly. He saw you somehow as something similar to a mother who took care of him, bathed him, played with him, made sure he had fresh food on the table and... loved him.

Today was one of the few days Simon spent at home, he was off duty until the next mission in a week's time. Nevertheless, he showed little to no interest in his son. As always.

"Simon, dinner's ready," you shouted from the kitchen as you put the food on the dining table and the little toddler, who you had in your arms while you were cooking, back in his chair.

Simon came down the stairs with sauntering steps, the smell of lasagna rising to his nostrils, almost melting in his mouth.

He was grateful that he had you, even if he couldn't really show it. Thanks to you, he was able to take a step back and didn't have to take on the role of being a father, in which he would fail anyway. Just like his own father did.

His son didn't need a father like him when he had you.

Simon sat down opposite you and stared at his food that you had prepared for him, his heart pounding painfully hard in his chest; he was goddamn thankful .

"Thank you, YN."

"... not for that."

Simon took a forkful of the lasagna and hungrily stuffed it into his mouth. The lasagna tantalized his taste buds, he had to stifle a small groan that threatened to leave his lips when he tasted the warm sauce and the perfectly layered noodle plates.

After all... Since he arrived this morning he hadn't eaten a thing. He was more than thrilled with your cooking skills and he thanked god for it.

His dark eyes fluttered back and forth between you and the little boy, who had red sauce around his little lips, like a little vampire. God he is so unbearable, he kept trying to tell himself, but the tugging in his chest kept reminding him painfully that he was too soft to hate his own son.

Maybe it wasn't hate he felt, but simply the need to push him away.

"Let me feed him, you have to eat, YN," he said bitterly, looked in your eyes.

His heart skipped a beat or two.

He was torn. On one hand, he didn't want to feed his son, on the other hand, he couldn't watch you feed his son and end up eating your food cold.

You didn't want to interfere so you handed Simon the childish blue spoon without even millisecond's hesitation. Your heart leapt with joy and hope that Simon was getting a little closer to his son, even if it was only a small interaction between father and son.

Your manicured fingernails ran gently over the head of the little boy, who went by the name Luce.

"He's lucky to have you," Simon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out, his gloved hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on son's head, trying to mirroring your affectionate gesture.

Luce deserved a father, someone who could be there for him, even if Simon struggled with the concept of fatherhood himself.

Growing up with a bastard of a father who constantly tortured and tormented you... it left its scars, both physically and mentally.

The touch was brief, almost hesitant, as if Simon was still grappling with the unfamiliar sensation of blossoming like a snowdrop in spring, slowly thawing from the cold winter.

But it was a step, a crack in the thick wall he had built around himself.

Deep down, Simon knew that he couldn't shield himself from these emotions forever, no matter how much he tried. A part of him began to wonder if there was room for more than just duty and detachment in his life.

"I'm just the babysitter in this whole thing," you said with a shy smile on your plump lips that makes his thoughts spin. Lips, which he has fantasized many unspeakable things in his imagination on lonely nights.

"Just a babysitter, eh?" Simon replied, his voice tinged with a smoky pitch that he owed to years of smoking. One of his few bad habits that couldn't get rid of.

"Well, you're doing a damn good job at it."

As the evening wore on, the three of you continued to share the meal in the cozy warmth of the room.

Simon eyes occasionally flickered towards you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. There was a certain comfort in having you around, a feeling that makes his mind go silent.

He knew that his time at home was limited, and soon he would have to return to the life he led based on duty and detachment. Missions and wars.

But for now, in this moment, Simon allowed himself to savor the peace and the connection that had unexpectedly blossomed between you and his son.

And perhaps, just perhaps, there was a part of him that dared to hope you're more than just a babysitter for his little burden... for him.

But wasn't it your job as Luce’s aunt to look after him?

English isn’t my native language, , I’m sorry for mistakes :)

[lvlyynim]

bestfriend!mark who’d remember your usual drink and pastry order so he’d have an excuse to crash your study session in the library.

bestfriend!mark who always has a spare charger in his bag whenever your phone is running low.

bestfriend!mark who would lull you to sleep with a few plucks from his guitar and soft singing.

bestfriend!mark who keeps small gifts you gave him and stores them in a cupboard box, calling it his memories box. (from the first movie ticket you two went together to the polariods of you and him)

bestfriend!mark who has a crush on you ever since 9th grade, you skipped school to take care of him when he was sick.

“don’t you have that very important history test? the one you spent weeks studying for”

“oh shush, you’re more important than that stupid test. now shut it and drink this”

bestfriend!mark who has a drawer full of his shit in your closet cause he’s constantly over at your place.

bestfriend!mark who would stay up all night stargazing with you from the small balcony.

bestfriend!mark who nearly burned down your kitchen, trying to make a sunny side up.

“you are never ever entering my kitchen again. at this point mark, you’re setting yourself up everytime you grab a pan”

“at least this one is better than the rest-”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT”

bestfriend!mark who always know when something is wrong and shows up with your favourite snacks and his hoodie.

bestfriend!mark who sents you sunset pics daily saying it reminds him of you. he’s also your personal weather forecaster.

bestfriend!mark who orders fast food and eats them with you in his car, in an empty parking lot.

bestfriend!mark who holds your hand in crowded places out of fear of losing you in a sea of people. (also your hands will stay interlocked for the whole day)

bestfriend!mark who’s your biggest supporter and constantly encourages to face your fears, reminding it’ll always work out in the end.

bestfriend!mark who dyed his hair blue after losing his bet with haechan (and it was probably the best thing to happen cause it suits him, to the point where you can’t stop staring at him)

“you look great with blue hair”

“hm? dang really?”

“mhm probably my favourite colour out of the all other ones”

“damn you liked it that much huh? is that why you keep staring at me?”

“shut up and finish your food”

bestfriend!mark who rubs his hand up and down your back whenever you two hug.

bestfriend!mark who stays sober if you two go out for drinks or during parties so he could take care of you in case you do too many shots.

bonus nsfw cuts

bestfriend!mark who jerks off to a photo of you almost every night before being consumed by guilt and shame. (and does it again the next night)

bestfriend!mark who shamelessly checks out anytime you wear something a tad bit revealing. (his favourite : you in skirts)

bestfriend!mark who finally had the chance to pour his feelings out to you and fuck you senseless afterwards.

“you have no fucking clue how long i’ve wanted this” you let a broken sob, feeling as if his cock is gonna split you in half with how deep he is. how big he is.

mark just chuckled at your disheveled state, legs pinned to your body, eyes rolled back in euphoria, body littered with his mouthwork.

“taking me so good baby, so fucking good” he’s losing it by the second. with how you’re clenching around him, he’s not gonna last long. your high pitched moans is a telltale sign you’re in the same boat as well.

mark was a gone man when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him deeper into your dripping cunt. leaning a whine of your name, he came hard. you took advantage and pushed him onto his back, straddling him.

wind knocked out of mark’s lungs seeing you bouncing on his cock, desperate for your own release. mark was choking on his sobs, his cock overstimulated to the point where he could cry any moment now.

“ba-baby please ngh please come please”

“fuck mark, i-i’m cumming”

it didn’t take long for the knot in your stomach to snap, orgasm washing over your body with a long whine of mark’s name.

[pollyna]

So, hear me out. Bradley knows about the Iceman but doesn't know him.

He's the friend Uncle Mav takes for important dinners once in a blue moon, and Bradley feels awkward around him because the man is tall, even if not the tallest man in his young life, and even if his mom tells him to go say hi, he hides behind Mav's leg and spends most of the night looking out at this man like he is some sort of mythical creature who not only knew his dad, Nick, but flew with him too. There's a picture in moma's bedroom of the five of them: moma, dad, uncle Mav, uncle Slider, and the Iceman.

Iceman is the man that Bradley hates a little bit because when he ships out, Uncle Slider wakes up at actual dawn, and Bradley can never get back to sleep because then his mom gets up too, and Uncle Mav really really tries to walk around on his tips when he comes through the door with him, but Bradley is awake. And it's too soon for him. So he has the right to hate him a little bit because of that.

In the years to come, the Iceman is going to be a voice over the phone, a sporadic presence over their table, and the person who will make Uncle Slider, who he calls Papa these days, cry like a baby the day he and his mom got married. And he's going to be the person with whom Uncle Mav sometimes disappears for weeks at a time, sometimes even months, coming back generally more tanned and happy than Bradley can remember him even being. He is the man who sends letters and postcards that his mom pins on the fridge and the man who makes his Papa leave the house at 2 am because his plane had been shot down and nobody knows shit about what happened. He's the man who forces him to wear his suit because of the medals and all that, and he has to go, especially if they are in the afternoon. (It's that Iceman forces him in the suits, nope, that's all his mom's work).

So yeah, he knows of the man, but he knows very little of him, and maybe he spent about twenty hours in his presence and company in his sixteen years of life. Then, during a party, some of his classmates ask if his uncle Mav is single because her aunt is interested in him, and Bradley doesn't know how to answer. When he asks his mom that same afternoon about Mav's love life, she shrugs and says, "He has someone, baby goose, had for a long time," and that's all he gets out of her, besides a single long look at the photo of Mav and the Iceman.

Something happens in the two years he and uncle Mav don't talk because something stupid Bradley said and something equally stupid Mav answered, and Mav writes to him a lot—letters, mail, and even a wedding invitation he sees five months later because he was away for his training and didn't switch postal codes. He doesn't open it because he's still angry with him, and his mom is so fucking disappointed with Bradley because "he got married and you weren't there". This thing hunts him for a long while, until he doesn't see Mav by chance when he gets assigned to Top Gun for the first time. He's wearing his wedding band, and he smiles sadly at him before saluting a superior and disappearing in the crowds, talking away with the base commander.

(It takes another half a year before they reconcile, but Mav doesn't talk about his spouse, and Bradley doesn't ask. He hears, thanks to the gossip vines, that the Iceman is getting his second star, and his mom talks, with Papa about his white hair and how distinguished he looked, during a barbecue the week before. Papa laughs and says, "Yeah, I'm sure he thinks exactly the same.")

But then he gets to know the Iceman, and not only of him after the mission, after he and Mav almost died, the man himself, with four stars on his shoulders and enough commandments on his chest to make the jacket look really heavy to wear, came to salute them on the bridge, shaking hands with every pilto and exchanging a couple of words with Mav himself. They are back on the land, Mav is sleeping in the back of the Bronco when they arrive home, and Carole and Ron are already at the front door waiting for him, talking with a guy sitting on the patio swing.

"Hey Mav, we are here," he says, gently shocking the man.

It almost happens all too fast, considering Uncle Mav is injured, and he's limping because his ankle is in a cast. He wakes up and looks around like he doesn't know where he is, but then his eyes focus on the figure who's looking back at him and who's getting up and walking towards them. And oh god, the Iceman is there, the fucking Admiral is in his backyard, and he's walking towards his car, but his eyes are on the person behind him, who's trying to get out of the car without killing himself.

"Kazansky, fancy finding you here," Mav starts, straddling himself against the Bronco.

"I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought to come by and say hi," he says, all serious but with a smile trying to creep on his features.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Admiral," Mav answers, already taking a step towards him.

"It is always a pleasure to know you are alive, Captain," he said, closing the distance between them, taking his face between his hands, and kissing him slowly.

"Fuck Pete, Jesus Christ, baby, I'm so happy you're home," he murmurs, and Bradley knows he shouldn't be hearing this because it's private and not for his ears. So he slips out of the car, as silently as he can and walks towards his mama and papa who engulf him in the biggest, warmest hug he has received in a little while.

He doesn't know how long they spend like that, hugging each other and not really talking because Bradley is getting all the comfort he needs by only being there, until Mav pats him on the back and says, "Hey B, I want to introduce you to someone."

And Admiral Kazansky smiles at him, not in the polite way he got accustomed to seeing him smile, but in a warmer, more familiar way: "Hi, I don't think you really remember about me, I'm Tom, Pete's husband."

So, at the end of the day, he knows of the Iceman, because of gossip, and knows a little about him because his mom and papa talk a lot about him, but he can say he personally knows Tom Kazansky, the man who married his uncle Pete and who sits in front of him every time they come over for dinner.

[courtingchaos]

Wooo I’m feeling some kind of way recently. Stress will do that to you.

A/N: this is fluff but seriously, no minors. I mean it.

But like, paint this picture with me.

Older Eddie (Professor Munson in my imaging), remembering all the things that make you happy. He notices you’re upset because job stuff and you’re having a hard time being in your 30’s and he gets it. It wasn’t that long ago he was there and he’s been watching you ghost around the townhouse for a week. Hair clipped up and the same pajamas you’ve had on for at least three days. He still trips over himself to see you though, even unwashed and snapping and sad. Every day he comes home and searches for you, and every day this week he’s found you in the spare room you’ve slowly turned into your space.

He’s told you he’ll clear it out and get you real office furniture but that makes you sink deeper into your depression. You talk about not being able to pay him back and he’s never once expected that.

You don’t have to. He doesn’t want you to. Let him do something for you. He just wants you to feel better.

And maybe that starts a fight because he’s already got his career and his friends and his money and his home. You’re floating in a job you hate and looking for another one to bide your time in because you actually hate the degree you spent 7 years getting. You only did it to prove to everyone else you could and now?

Now you live off of your boyfriend in his big, expensive brownstone. He’s 12 years into his field and settled and also 25 years older than you.

So what is it? You only like charity cases or something? Gotta rescue the idiot?

He knows you’re mad. He knows you lash out like this. He knows you’ll push so that everyone else leaves and you can feel like you got left instead. So maybe he snaps back at you for a second. Reminds you if he didn’t want you living with him and dating him he could find someone more age appropriate (he says with an eye roll). When you stomp up the stairs to your room he yells up to you that if he didn’t love you and was 20 years younger he’d be throwing your shit out onto the pavement outside, damn the old money next door.

Maybe you avoid him till the weekend when he’s home the whole time. You haven’t slept in the same bed and you haven’t answered a single knock or text or FaceTime. He sends you little flower emojis and a string of stars. He finds a tiktok about the Mars rover that he knows you’ll want to see and sends you some screen shots of the new menu for the whiskey bar you two like to go to. While you were sleeping he slid into your room and left your Sunday morning fancy coffee on the nightstand and when you finally wake up and notice it, you can hear him moving around in the kitchen.

You still feel like shit but at least you know he isn’t kicking you out. You know he wouldn’t, not over a stupid fight like that but still. It’s when you’re wrapped up in your robe and heading down stairs to finally speak to him you notice the bedroom door open. The bedroom you normally sleep in, with a sticky note on it. An arrow pointing in with a smiley face and crudely drawn horns. On the bed there’s a little paper bag from the expensive soap place you rarely buy from and it seems Eddie has outdone himself again. The rose shower melts and the lemon soap and that stupid body pouf you like so much that smells like candy. If you cry about it in the shower you don’t tell him and he doesn’t bring up your puffy face when you finally pad into the kitchen.

He’s baking something, it smells sweet and you spot the split packaging of the orange cinnamon pillsbury rolls in the trash and you have to swallow the lump in your throat. He hates those so you know he ran these errands yesterday when he left for those few hours. Probably ran by the grocery store first and then into that boutique that he always complains smells too much. He pauses when he see you staring into the trash can, silent and still. Doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head to try and catch your eye.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what to do about anything and I’m panicking.

He just shrugs and smiles. He gets it. He always gets it. There’s something in him that always gets your mood swings and that deep seated anger. He’s never asked you to try and snuff that flame out, just helps you tend it.

It’s a controlled burn. You gotta let it get all the kindling out so new shit can grow.

Eddie pulls you into a hug and you lean into him. Breathe him in slow to try and get that lump to go away. You thank him for your shower and then gesture sadly behind you at the oven and thank him for the cinnamon rolls you know he hates. He laughs and it rumbles against you. He hums along to the music and you tuck your head into his neck and realize he’s got Neil Young on. There’s an old man joke on the tip of your tongue but then he starts singing along to Harvest Moon and you shut up. The tears you’ve been holding in since getting out of the shower push up and over and stain your cheeks and wet his old tshirt and he just shushes you. Sways you against him until the timer goes off and he sways you over to the stove and manages to get the round pan out without burning either of you.

Maybe it’s a rainy day and the drops patter against the windows. Eddie knows you like the rain and he dances you across the living room so he can crack the window so you can hear it coming down.

Because I’m still in love with you, I wanna see you dance again…

Sings quietly into your hair and tucks you up close and let’s you cry on his shoulder and when he feels you slowing down, taking those deep breaths to steady yourself, he pulls his phone out and replays the song so he can properly dance with you. He wants you to laugh so he holds your fingertip and first knuckle, acts like he’s playing a tiny harmonica. You giggle and he feels better, lighter. There’s color in your cheeks again and you’re looking him in the eye before you give him a kiss and drape back over him.

It’s cozy and it smells like cinnamon rolls and you’re swaying with him and you both are happy.

[aablackwoodofficial]

Cheesecake but make it DEPRESSING AS FUCK AND MAKE YOU CRY ABOUT TIM AGAIN (AKA have my personal headcanon about WHY Tim likes cheesecake that has nothing to do with canon at all)

The whole "Tim likes cheesecake" thing started off as a fatphobic cheap shot at Tim Sutton (possibly, although I'm fairly certain he debunked that claim) and then became a meme and now the MH community is trying to distance themselves from it But... What if we didn't? What if we fixed it instead? And yes, we CAN fix it. Lets take a look at my headcanon, shall we?

First of all, eating an entire cheesecake in one sitting is such... a Tim Wright thing to do. No, no, no. Stick with me. Look at Tim. Do you fucking think that man has eaten an actual meal in the past 72 hours? Please, he's probably had like six cups of coffee, an apple he grabbed on the way out the door, a bag of peanuts he found in Jay's car, and half of Jay's hamburger and the rest of his fries which Jay forced him to eat out of guilt because "Tim, c'mon. Have you eaten at all today?"

Not to mention, he's running off of exactly 3.5 hours of sleep at any given time, and all the 5 hour energies and cups of horrible gas station coffee in the world ain't keeping him conscious. And you know that man hasn't consumed more than 500 calories PERIOD over the past 3 days.

I'd have to channel my inner MatPat and reverse engineer Tim's height and age to figure out his weight and thus his needed caloric intake per day (which I did, assuming he's in his early 20s and knowing his height is 5'7, the average weight would be around 155 pounds. Knowing that he's both a heavy smoker and an alcoholic, both factors that are known to contribute to body weight, not to mention his stockier build I would put him closer to 180 pounds, giving us a basal metabolic rate of 1,760 calories. Considering the fact that he probably has to run away from various threats such as the Operator and Alex, and also probably has to run after Jay to stop him from doing stupid shit, I'd say he gets exercise 4-5 times a week, bringing his total daily calories needed up to 2,580), but it's safe to say that however many calories he needs? He ain't fucking getting them. Not to mention, he probably hasn't slept either. He's running on less than empty. So he eats an entire cheesecake in one sitting while relaxing on the hood of Jay's car. He needs food in his stomach to keep him going, and he needs the temporary sugar boost to keep him awake for at least another hour and a half. Why cheesecake? Here comes headcanon #2: Tim associates cheesecake with freedom. Tim spent most of his life in a mental hospital. Meaning he spent most of his life eating hospital food. As someone who briefly lived in a hospital (not a mental one, but still a hospital) I can tell you first hand that the food there (at least in the US) is SHITTY. Like, only slightly better than cafeteria food. Imagine eating cafeteria food for three meals a day, every day. The most sweets you get are probably a cookie or maybe Jell-O. Maybe pumpkin pie during the holidays or a cupcake on your birthday. That's it. You sure as HELL aren't getting cheesecake, unless someone buys it for you- and lets be honest. Who's out here buying little Tim cheesecake in the mental hospital? No one. So Tim sees commercials for cheesecake on TV. Probably Philadelphia Cream Cheese or Cheesecake Factory commercials. Doesn't matter. The point is, it's not the food- it's the freedom. The family. The being somewhere other than a fucking hospital. THAT is what Tim really wants. It's all he ever wanted. So when he finally gets the hell out of the hospital and gets a job and a place to live, maybe he's going to try cheesecake, right? That boy's *never* had it in his life. And so it suddenly becomes his comfort food. He always associated it with freedom, and now that he is free, the association becomes even stronger. And he eats an entire cheesecake. Why? Because he can. He may be constantly on the run, he may be afraid for his life, but he's still free. He's not trapped in the mental hospital, alone with no one who cares about him. He's free. He's an adult. He can do whatever he wants. He can eat an entire cheesecake if he feels like it- and no one's going to stop him. Not the Operator, not ToTheArk, not Alex- NO ONE. It is an act of defiance- an act of freedom in the midst of captivity. *MatPat voice* BUT HEY, THAT'S JUST A THEORY- A "FEEL DEPRESSED ABOUT TIM WRIGHT'S HORRIBLE LIFE" THEORY

[glitchbirds]

started watching the his dark materials tv adaptation earlier this week- something that i had meant to do back in 2019 when it began and never quite got around to. started s3 yesterday so i should get the remaining 7 episodes under my belt within the next few days genuinely it is fascinating to watch an adaptation of a series that i read only once, when i was ten years old, but which left such a profound impression on me that i have consistently cycled back to it for years and years (esp when its such a complex, sprawling fantasy world-or several worlds, really- that its adapting)

as ive mentioned Several times over the years- maybe not on this particular account though-, i was gifted an omnibus copy of all three books in one by my older brother, either for christmas or my birthday i cant remember, sometime before the 2007 movie came out (meaning i had to have been 10 at the absolute oldest when i started reading them, though maybe 11 by the time i finished?). i also very clearly remember The Controversy surrounding them among christians, mainly because of a few comments by classmates but more importantly because my (fourth grade, iirc?) teacher pulled me out of class one day to tell me the book i was reading was sinful and atheist and against god and etc (which made me cry very hard </3 even though she told me i could still read it. this was back when my dad still took me to (catholic) church on a semi-regular basis to appease my grandmother as well as sunday school (run by my older cousins) and at least a year or so before i started to develop a modicum of critical thought towards deep south church teachings. i was petrified of the idea of going to hell and scared to do anything whatsoever to jeopardize my chances) (this did not stop me from reading the book however, because i enjoyed it too much. but i also have a clear memory of reading the book every chance i got w/o paying much attention to what was happening around me and one day realizing that i was reading it while at church service and mentally freaking out that i was doing something sacrilegious and trying to force myself to stop reading. i think i spent about 10 minutes bored out of my mind before i, internally apologetic, went back to reading) luckily my parents seemed unaware or unphased by the fearmongering- i assume my mother never noticed, or this was before she started to become insane from fox news poisoning; my dad i think brought it up briefly because of a flyer he saw but wasnt overly worried about it- because i saw the movie in theaters (i liked it ok; have never seen it since, i want to now though) and also acquired the ds game (tbh i enjoyed it despite it being tie-in garbage and me being v bad at video games as a kid; i never managed to beat it though) and later the wii game (bad </3 never got far into it)

Anywayyyy. again i have never since reread any of the books or read any of the other novellas and the like philip pullman has written set in the same world, though im itching to do that now; and ofc while ive skimmed through wiki articles and the like to refresh my memory on things, my memory of most of the plot points in the books are heavily based on My Perspective As A Ten Year Old Child. i remember the first book the best, a decent amount of subtle knife, and can only recall a few specifics of amber spyglass, and its only now while revisiting the world by watching the tv show that im getting a proper, more well-rounded view of the symbolism and messaging and Authorial Intent(tm) behind the series, because of course a lot of this shit flew right over my stupid little child brain as a kid. once i got to the third book i started to understand, vaguely, why my teacher didnt want me reading this book and why there was a backlash against the movie, but a lot of things that are obvious to me now (and would have been obvious if i read the series just a few years later, really) just did not compute for a 10 y/o. which ofc does not mean that i think its a Bad thing i read them that young but all of ^ that turns watching this series into a mix of "oh i remember that" "oh i know whats coming up" "oh my god i forgot that this is from HDM, this has influenced so many creative projects over the years w/o me even realizing it" "oh they skipped over it but i know in the books there was a scene here that i loved and that has stuck with me forever" "i dont remember this from the books but it extrapolates perfectly from what i remember about these characters" "oh my god was the symbolism here really that obvious and i still didnt pick up on it" etc etc etc ANYWAYYYY. my actual review of the tv series so far: -season 1 in particular is sorely lacking in how it portrays daemons and it made me increasingly sad. daemons were without a doubt my favorite thing from these books and one of my favorite things in a work of fantasy Ever to the point where over the years i have Repeatedly decided to sit down and spend a ridiculous amount of time painstakingly plotting out what daemon i think (x) character from (x) piece of media i enjoy, would have. many of which are still committed to memory. i fucking love daemons as a concept and i wish this shit was public domain so any piece of fiction i write could utilize them forever. i get budget issues exist or w/e but whyyyy would you adapt a series where every character in a world would have a cgi animal with them at all times if you couldnt actually show those cgi animals in more than a handful of scenes per episode and only for (some) major characters and only if they had a speaking role in that scene and also occasionally just have them teleport instead of showing them walking from one room to the next and also crowd shots are fucking barren. its like watching a live action pkmn tv show where pokemon are onscreen for a combined 5-10 minutes out of 60 minute episodes. s2 is a bit better about it but it also spends significantly more time in other worlds where daemons arent visible so ig its easier to budget in more daemons in scenes that take place in lyras world. no idea about s3 yet though ofc the mulefa are coming so We'll See how they handle the cg there

-i do think the cg animal animation looks good though. like its not "i believe there is an actual snow leopard in the room" photorealism but not only is that something i do not particularly care about, i think daemons looking a little unreal is actually perfect. they are physical manifestation of human souls and are in-universe immediately distinguishable from identical animals of the same species... it works

-s2 in general is a significant improvement on s1 not just in the daemons but in the overall pacing and character exploration imo; which is surprising considering its the season cut short from covid lockdown; and also a bit sad since, again, most of what i remember is from the first book and thus many of my fondest memories of the books were things that were either skimmed over in the first season or cut out entirely </3 ALAS.

-iorek and iofurs fight didnt go as hard as it shouldve </3 they didnt even show iorek ripping iofur's jaw off... he was killed in the blurry bg behind lyra. how are you gonna let the 2007 pg-13 movie kick more ass at talking armored polar bears fighting to the death

-am i crazy or is the alethiometer just not used much in the tv series compared to the book... maybe the movie+games clouded my memory, or maybe its the fact that in the show there's rarely any elaboration as to what the symbols could mean or which symbols lyra is using for her questions/what she's interpreting. almost every scene of it being used blurs together and i wouldnt be shocked if some show-only fans think its a stupid plot device with no rhyme or reason behind the symbols, when imo i think you can at least roughly intuit many of the meanings, though obviously not to the extent that a reader could interpret full accurate sentences

-some really really strong casting for like 99% of the roles in this show, i love most of the changes theyve made from the books wrt to casting decisions, my only significant gripe is of course. why did you have to do lee scorseby like that. i loved lee a lot. i remembered him so fondly. why'd you have to give lin manuel miranda that one. just absolutely devastating to me personally (though the choice to have andrew scott as will's father was v funny to me because lin manuel miranda and moriarty from bbc sherlock hanging out together for a huge chunk of s2 has to have appealed massively to a very particular subset of tumblrina)

-again i read these books when i was 10 so the concept of "characters can be bad people but also really well written and enjoyable to spectate" hadnt really settled in my mind yet so i really have no idea if this fully applies to the book version of her but oh my godddd i love mrs coulter in this series. yes she kidnaps children and rips their souls apart from them yes she drugs her own daughter and holds her captive yes she murders people indiscriminately without remorse etc. and she rules <3

-similarly the changes theyve made to the golden monkey are Fascinating...

-i loved lyra and pan with my whole heart when i was her age and it is really :,) to now be fully an adult and see her again. waughh. i love how almost everyone she meets loves her too (i will not stand for ppl watering it down to found family fanfiction tropes. but She Is So Loved.)

-i think its cool that boreal went from being a fairly minor character in the books to one of the main antagonists for a hot minute. he was fun :)

-i dont remember having strong feelings about mary malone as a kid but i really like her here. i havent gotten to this point in the show yet but im aware they tweaked her backstory to make her a lesbian as well, which is just delightful to me

-will's relationship w/ his mother and particularly the way the book describes her mental illness from will's perspective was so, So important to me as a kid and the thing i remembered best from subtle knife, and i wish the show had dwelled on it a liiiittle more? in particular, the bit where will thinks about when he first realized something was up and his mother wasnt just playing a "game" with him and was actually terrified of a nonexistent threat, when he was seven and they were shopping for groceries, and how he realized then and there that he needed to take care of her and protect her- that stuck w/ me very strongly as a kid and i wish the show had found a way for will to talk about it with lyra, there were a couple points where i thought he was going to bring it up. maybe this season??

fun fact i started writing this post at like 10 last night. i gotta put a stop this rn

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Bisexual!Michael Masterlist

but then i hear u calling (there u are) (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke N/R, 933

Summary: michael and luke have always been the closest. friendly kisses lasting no longer than 3 seconds are shared frequently between the duo- calum and ashton watching from a distance, almost admiring their friendship. until it wasn't a friendship anymore.

How You Get the Girl (ao3) - 1loulu5 michael/calum, michael/ofc T, 2k

Summary: “Wh… What does ‘castrate’ mean?” Michael sounded perplexed.

Calum laughed, “It means I’ll cut your balls off.”

“Oh-”

~~~

Michael calls Calum, his ex for the past 4 years, for relationship advice.

Not Just a Stupid Game (ao3) - coffeemuke michael/luke E, 2k

Summary: A game of truth or dare leads to Michael following through on a dare.

Paint Me - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/ashton, michael/crystal E, 17k

Summary: “Holy shit, hold on a minute,” Calum says, “is that who we’re supposed to be drawing?”

“I can’t draw him,” Michael gawks, “I’m not a Goddamn renaissance painter.”

Or, the one where Luke is an art student practicing realism for a month and Ashton is the nude model in his portrait class.

Promise (ao3) - boomercal calum/ashton, sierra/luke, michael/crystal, calum/ofc M, 115k

Summary: Live music photographer Calum does one favour for a friend (filling in last minute for a show), and his life changes for good. Finding his muse, world-famous pop/rock sensation Ashton Irwin. He thinks once the shows are over, he can pack it in and forget all about it, but a Google search and a phone call set him up on a North American tour where he'll see the man every day... Too bad his Google search revealed the man of his every fantasy has a purity pact with God. So what's a..promiscuous young man to do? Repress it? Sure, that'll work.

Tangled in a Triangle (ao3) - orsumeuphoria michael/crystal/ashton E, 9k

Summary: “You ever have him like this, Crys?” Ashton asks. Crystal doesn’t say anything, but she must shake her head because Ashton continues, “Shame. I think you’d like it. He’s so pretty on his knees.” Michael keens. “C’mere.”

Crystal’s immaculate sneakers appear right behind Ashton’s boots.

The next command he gets isn’t spoken. Ashton only has to tap the base of his jaw for Michael to look up.

The image of both Ashton and Crystal towering over him, Ashton smiling softly and Crystal looking intrigued, is one he burns into his memory.

“Hi, dove,” Ashton murmurs softly, “Fucking missed you.”

The Blower's Daughter (ao3) - MyMy michael/calum, luke/ashton M, 13k (WIP)

Summary: “Did you need something else?” Michael inquires politely a little confused himself.

“I was wondering if I could get your number actually?” The stranger asks biting his lip into his mouth quickly.

“Oh sure!” Michael replies happily. He reaches around the register to the side facing the customer and feels around for the little stack of cards with the shop info on it and the logo embossed in solid black.

“Here this has the shop number right here.” Michael points to the tiny row of numbers on the card. “So if you need anything don’t be afraid to call, okay? We can do special orders as well so anything music related we’ll try our best to get it for you!”

The Gayest Thing I've Ever Done (ao3) - coffeemuke michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 1k

Summary: Band bonding crosses the line between normal and weird, and it's Luke's fault. But the boys don't seem to mind.

The Posse's Origin (ao3) - Jay_isnotokay calum/ashton, michael/ashton E, 6k

Summary: "...I've been apart of the princess posse for a few weeks now and I still don't how you two got 'initated' in the first place." Luke said.

"Alright, LuLu, have I got a story for you."

~

Or Luke wants to know how the posse started and, well, they tell him.

up to your mouth, feeling it out (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke, luke/ashton E, 9k

Summary: Ashton's the one who suggested it; after all, he would know how well Luke would do in the industry, since he spent most Friday nights with his best friend's lips around his cock. Luke, on the other hand, didn't know he would end up fluffing for a record-breaking pornstar who is like, really really hot, and definitely his type.

or, Luke is broke and has a talented mouth (and a tongue piercing).

your string of lights is still bright to me (ao3) - merlypops michael/calum E, 81k

Summary: Michael is struggling to be the father his daughters need. Until he meets Calum again.

[problematicfanfics]

rant/vent but

since i’m on vacation with my family i’m actually at my wit’s end. i have no privacy. i have been sleeping in the same room as both my parents, my sister and my grandma for the past two weeks. i’m genuinely crying dude. like i can’t be happy around them. they decimate everything i find joy in and everything about myself i like. i’m so over this. sleeping in close quarters is just making me feel like shit again and reminds me of all those fucking years i spent as a kid fucking battling poverty and couch surfing with my family. like i hate it. it’s so traumatizing. my sister has like no memory of it because she was like 3 so for her this is all cutesy poor core aesthetic. i’m ripping my fucking hair out. before we left my mom was hounding me, asking me if i wanted a hair appt, a nail appt, to go buy clothes. i said no. i said the only thing i wanted was a wax because shaving is a pain in the ass. she forgot. but u wanna know what she didn’t forget? my sister’s wax appt. my sister’s chemical hair straightening treatment. all the stores my sister wanted to go to. my sister’s $160 nail appointment. like are u fucking kidding me? then the day before i asked my mom “when is my wax appointment?” and she BLEW UP at me saying i should’ve made it, it’s my job to make it. last month i made a dentist appt for my tooth whitening like she told me to and she got mad because I MADE THE APPOINTMENT. i can’t fucking win. then on top of it all for the first time in like months i wanted to get my nails done bc they’re hella cheap and really high quality in greece and once again, my mom forgot. she said “if you wanted it you should’ve gone.” i said mom, i can’t speak greek like that. i don’t want them to scam me. i don’t know what nails are supposed to cost. i’ve gotten my nails done professionally two times in my seventeen years of existence. idk shit about them. but no, i’m the issue. i’m the fucking issue. every time i open my mouth they say i’m giving them attitude when i’m literally just speaking or asking a question. they say i’m too quiet then yell at me for being too loud. they say everything i enjoy is stupid or childish. they won’t give me ANY personal space. they keep ganging up on me with my sister. my sister has been the biggest thorn in my side though. she’s such a pos. like idk how to explain this to y’all. she’s a fucking brat. we couldn’t be further from different. i’m scared to buy myself food with my parents’ money. my sister spends upwards of $100 a week on food, clothing, makeup, etc. with no regard for my parents’ time or finances. she steamrolls over everyone’s emotions to make room for hers, which are usually disgust and anger, and constantly puts everyone in a bad mood. my dad is ALWAYS out to get me despite the fact i try my fuckin hardest to keep the peace between us. my mom is so fucking bipolar i never know what i’m getting. my dad and mom are at each other’s throats. my yiayia lectures me on shit when i’m mad that isn’t even remotely related to the reason i’m mad ever and it pisses me off even more and i desperately try to give her the benefit of the doubt bc english isn’t her first language but she does the SAME DAMN THING IN GREEK LIKE BRO. i met ONE GIRL in this STUPID fucking horio BUT I LEAVE IN TWO DAYS. AND TOMORROW IM NOT EVEN IN THIS HORIO IM OFF TO THE MAIN AREA. like fuck off bro. and the girl mainly speaks greek which is fine but it gets hard bc i’m not the absolute best in it (i’m sm better in other languages bro no one bothered teaching me greek and you’d THINK my GREEK FAMILY would teach me greek and wouldn’t be mad over the fact i don’t know greek bc yk THEYRE MY FAMILY AND THEYRE SUPPOSED TO TEACH ME but no everything is my fault). and she’s sweet but this is her summer vacation spot so she has hella friends here already and i can tell i’m just “the girl next door she has to hang out with”. i feel bad i don’t want to drag her from her friends or insert myself in her plans but for the first time in god knows how long i felt normal today just because i finally had someone close in age.

elevator music and the smiths have carried the brunt of my emotions these past two weeks i can’t lie.

[sweet-jolly-fucken-ranchers]

kind of a bummer that my mum only wants to do cool activities with me when she’s pissed off with my dad.

they crashed my friend and i’s dinner at a new vegan bar we’d been meaning to try and seemed happy last week, I went home and the next morning everything was weird. I suspect my parents fought and haven’t made up and I think my dad’s ex-fling is causing trouble again because my mum is being really detached and my dad is playing songs he would listen to when things between them were really bad. songs I will never be able to listen to again without being overstimulated and panicky and unsure.a

mum asked if I wanted to go to the museum in London today but I woke up late (had been on morning shift yesterday so was basically up for 20 hours and overslept) but every other time I’m off she just plans things with my dad and I’m gonna sound like a baby but ever since they got back together I feel like I’ve kind of been left in the dust. I have amazing friends and a good schedule keeping me happy and healthy but it’s something I’ve noticed that nags at me, was my mum only connecting with me when dad was gone because I was convenient?

she says she loves me and wouldn’t have been able to get through it without me. when dad drove her home drunk and left her wasted and crying on our doorstep last year and then went home with his girlfriend I was the one who sat with her until she exhausted herself from crying and slept on the sofa across from her to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid in the night. I was the one who made sure she was eating enough and washing and she told me things I’ll never be able to forget and we spent mother-child days together where I felt so needed and seen finally. now any day off she gets she spends exclusively with my dad doing coupley things.

I feel used and rejected and abandoned, I don’t know how to feel about that. Angry? Disappointed? Lonely? Was I just an emotional sponge for her to rant and rave? I was so angry at dad and she and my Nan affirmed so much of what I was already feeling and I saw him so clearly for what he was and now I feel like the veil has been pulled back over the ugly face of this relationship and I’m just supposed to forget everything she said and everything I read in her journal when their relationship was new.

they’re meant to go to the Isle of Wight early tomorrow to see my brother and nieces but she’s still not home and text me that dad “doesn’t give a shit” and I feel catapulted back into the worst mindset I’ve had in my life. I want to disconnect completely from it but I know their woes are going to affect the atmosphere of the entire house. what am I supposed to think? or do?

[mypointerfinger]

August 8, 2024, 12:00am

i think i’m nearing the end of my tenure.

i don’t mean to be a pessimist about everything, but it’s a hard ideology to escape. being raised by the internet is the worst thing to happen to me, and most likely will lead to me leaving. my parents marriage has been strained since before i have memories. so many bad times marking me from my childhood and teen years. what sort of life is spent wondering “what if?” for the better part of your days.

i’m still miserable, i still work at the job i hate. every drive has been a nightmare, not for traffic but for being alone with myself. i’m torturing myself. my thoughts are becoming slower and more focused, but on death and how worthless i am. my 23rd birthday passed a week ago, and i saw a tweet a few days after it, something like “always talking about getting your life together, bro you’re 22 it’s too late.” stuff like that sticks with me. we both know it’s a joke, you and i, but many jokes come from half truths. my brain compartmentalizes everything negative at the absolute forefront of every instance, and that little stupid post has bothered me for almost a week.

i didn’t feel loved growing up. i felt like i was fucking everything up, but never had anyone to look to for help. my parents chastised my mistakes but didn’t offer help in how i could do better next time. i would just be catching insults and having to figure it out myself. (i havent figured anything out.) i remember plenty of times trying to hide from them and the abuse, and while i’m thankful it was never physical, mentally i am scarred 100%. almost exactly 8 years ago, i was sitting in the closet behind me as i write this. my dog just died, and i had nobody to look to for comfort in the house. my mom was having a breakdown in the living room and my dad had just gotten home to join in. i was shaking and crying and remember how badly i wished Hussar was there with me. it’s a weird thing to deal with these things, always bringing the severity down when it really fucked my life up, you know? i didn’t develop any real skills as a kid, i begged my parents to let me quit everything they signed me up for, i didn’t have friends in person and didn’t know how to make them. i feel hopeless socially. i am terrified of people. moreso fearful i’ll like weird in front of them, or that i’ll be too over the top in the moment and push people away. me emotional maturity is nonexistent and wish that i was capable of working on it, i just have no clue where to begin. it’s like trying to learn a language without hearing or reading it, no foundation and no concept of what to even aim for.

truth be told i rambled the last half of that paragraph to avoid talking about the real shit: i thought about writing a note tonight. i’m starting to feel irredeemably hopeless, i lost the small amount of hope i had left that i honestly didn’t know was there. for people not in my shoes, it’s difficult to portray the feeling of just wishing to not be here. i don’t wanna experience death, i don’t wanna give up, but at some point the mental anguish i’m experiencing is piling up and overflowing. i wish i treated my mother better. it’s a funny thing being so conflicted about the person who’s supposed to be your world. like, “oh how can you wish to be kinder to someone who abused you?” the old saying—hurt people hurt people—is appropriate. my mother grew up with abusive parents herself, they were drinkers. on top of the abuse, i don’t remember if i mentioned it or not, but she’s very lonely, almost in a similar spot to me. we both are in constant solitary confinement. my dad seems unfazed but he’s a military man, and of us 3 he gets the most social interaction. i’m starting to tangent again, but the point being.. i have a lot of things i haven’t forgiven myself for yet. some days i feel like i’m intrinsically supposed to be evil, maybe i should be selling fentanyl or murdering innocent people for the thrill so good people have a job to do. maybe my purpose is to be the villain. as insane and illogical as that sounds, it’s a true side of my thoughts that i wish i didn’t have. the more logical side says that’s a stupid fucking plan.

i have a couple social gatherings coming up, i’m gonna see some friends from grade school and their friends from high school. i’ve only met two of them in person before and i’m horrified to meet the others. i don’t wanna be weird. we play games online and i’m still letting me frustration out on there. almost every night, i get off the computer feeling like a coward and a freak. at the bare minimum, my passtimes should be fun, but even simple things like video games are just.. i take them so seriously that i get blinded by rage. i punched my desk so hard earlier i gashed my fist open. i said a bunch of horrible shit like every other day, and not even because i really want that for someone else. i’d never genuinely wish for someone’s death. but i still say horrible shit that just is so fucking embarrassing. it’s exhausting, i feel like 2 completely different people some days. like, how can i go from a perfectly fine experience on Tuesday, having a good time, performed well, didn’t say anything crazy, to tonight. tonight, where i blew up and said i wished some random person hung himself in his closet. it’s funny to reread some of this stuff because i can’t even believe that it bothers me so much to the point i say such vulgar stuff. i think i brought my parents up because it’s a partial problem from how i was raised. you reflect who your parents are to an extent and my dad has always been prone to anger, my mom is severely mentally unstable. what a culmination! right?

for my last spew of bullshit.. (and no, i’m not gonna do anything to myself tonight)

i feel like my mind never slows down. the internet really has brought my mind to a place of dopamine dependency. TikTok, YT Shorts, top 5-10 lists, fast flashy advertisements. just EVERYTHING all feels like it’s limiting my attention span, and in turn, makes my brain crave for that next hit. the problem i got with that is how i don’t get a hit anymore from ANYTHING. the combo of my mental state and the fast pace that my thoughts are running at causes me to perpetually be negative to myself. i have days i can’t even look in the mirror because the voice in my head is gonna just start commenting on every slight imperfection. there’s no literal voice in my head, moreso it’s a dialogue between me and myself. the sheer impulse and violence that vibes from my brain needing dopamine is ruining my life, and as of now i have no power to control it. i need a mentor, maybe electroshock therapy or whatever my doc said. since sort of meth treatment or something where they give you tranquilizer and it alters your brain chemistry.

disjointed post but i don’t care, documenting my thoughts is what matters more than anything to me right now. this is probably great for the attention span thing. i’m never beating the loser allegations

love j

[faustocosgrove]

hi~ it’s ya boi, Fausto.

um. so i was going to say i’m back on tumblr but my queue was spitting out posts the whole time so yeah. anyway. long excuse under teh cut. also trigger warning for me talking about my eating disorder (heavily self censored but mentioned none the less).

tl;dr version: Fausto is having a series of bad days. death to israel.

do y’all remember when i told the story of this customer who yelled at me but she started the conversation with the “I am a sweet, confused old lady” voice and then hall of the mountain king style slid into screaming at me? and how i had a mental breakdown over it? well similar thing happened. this lady shows up and she keep giving me the “i am a toddler about to cry because you’re not giving me what i want” face and like barely using her words to tell me what the fuck she wants to buy. and um, i’ve never had an adult give me the “i am a toddler about to cry” face before. in any situation ever. so that threw me off my game. anyway, i don’t really remember what happened next exactly but she managed to drop half of her stuff because she couldn’t convince her husband to either unlock the car or give her the one dollar she was short for the bill in time. and this guy didn’t seem angry coming up to me with the dollar until he gave me the dollar, then he screamed at me. and so like, there was no indication of aggression until our hands were just about touching and he was a big fuckin guy! so that freaked me the fuck out and i just kind of took two steps back and dropped my jaw on the floor in terror. then he said something rude. and they left. and i spent days replaying this in my head.

and then october 7th happened, and i very specifically logged on to tumblr with teh intention of reblogging a post about how stupid and wrong the official american narrative is about israel and a list of things israel has done since it’s inception that are way worse than anything Hamas does to fight back. instead i was greeted with this bizarre neutral post about palestine and it’s occupied territory and then i saw it again and i had this moment of thinking “oh my god, all the anti-zionism i’ve seen from political bloggers was performative” so i logged off tumblr.

and then a few days later i thought to myself “i’ll just avoid unfollowing political blogs for now and stuff my queue with stupid memes from tags and the trending page!” and i found a post on a particular topic and i’ve been spending the last ~2 weeks fighting my eating disorder. plus for some reason people in real life keep saying various kinds of shit that’s been making the eating disorder thing worse.

and to make things worse now that i’ve finally worked up the gumption to unfollow the blogs that put the weirdly zionism tolerant post on my dash tumblr kept crashing and when it stopped crashing the one person i thought i remembered reblogging the post it wasn’t in their archive and i tried searching for the damned post which you know goes poorly because this is tumblr. and i’m searching like, every political blogger’s archives for the post and i can’t find it. and like i keep trying to unearth from my brain what exactly the post said to actually search for it and i can’t remember so now i’m having another albeit less severe mental breakdown over having a mental breakdown over a tumblr post that probably doesn't exist.

um. so my queue is empty now i guess but um i’m not super emotionally invested in being on tumblr for the time being so if you’re wondering where i went yeah and if any other world events happen then just assume that i’ve got the same opinion as i had before.

death to israel.

[apatheticveil]

Here we go again...

I want to meet the person that decided to make a large change in their life, stuck to it first time and succeeded. Is this a thing? I'm not talking about those that needed to quickly otherwise their lives were on the line. I mean habits or lifestyle changes that were going to increase the quality of life (but not necessarily kill it if you didn't do it)

I won't lie and say that I've ever been good at taking care of myself. Any aspect of self-care seems to have a wavering success rate. Skin, weight, food, health, hair, mental stability, everything.

The want to change and improve has been there for years. The actual motivation hasn't. Many attempts have fallen through.

I think the straw that broke the camel's back was bursting into tears when a colleague that I barely knew passed away. I was at my heaviest weight with terrible skin, drinking copious amounts of alcohol every day and eating whatever I could get my hands on. I had mood swings like a motherfucker and seemed to be stressed after the smallest inconvenience. Not only that but every 2 weeks, I seemed to get sick.

What does that have to do with crying over someone dying?

I cried 2x while at work and even though it was a sad event, I seemed to have taken it super hard. Even though I didn't know him well or spent much time with him. Queue to 3 hours later when I burst into tears 2 more times over my employee review. It was positive with one minor thing I needed to watch out for. I even knew it was something I wasn't good at. But apparently it upset me beyond belief.

I came home that night, drunk, swollen from crying and feeling sick wondering why the fuck I had cried so much. I think this is where I had finally hit the last of my tolerance. Guess what. I had to call in sick the next day too as whatever happened caused my body not to cope.

Now you would think I would resolve to make a change then and there. But nope. Took me another 3 months afterward to actually make the first step. That day was just when I knew that I wasn't in a good space. Mentally or physically.

Over those 3 months, my attention, stamina and energy got lower and lower and all parts of my personal and professional life suffered. I turned into the surly girl who couldn't hold a conversation (because I simply stopped caring what was being said) I would forget almost everything. My empathy was completely gone. And I started getting sick more and more.

I had to wait 6 weeks to have my anxiety medication balance my chemicals again (of course, I just had forgotten to take it for nearly 6 months). This seemed to be the one thing that gave me enough focus to look into a resolution.

I joined the weight loss challenge at my work. Not because I thought I could win. But because I wanted the humiliation of people knowing my weight. And being forced every week to stand up and have people watch the number on the scales. I'm a manager at my work. The only manager participating. In fact, I'm in the competition against one of my employees. I needed that level of embarrassment to show that maybe something isn't right here.

I joined the gym. Only because a handful of people in my life wanted to as well and I needed them to keep me accountable. This is going to come up again later. Also the fact I would now have to spend $90 a month (in a shit ass economy) so the want to exercise will be balanced with the fact I don't wanna waste money right now.

I spoke with a close friend (shout out Jamie) who also wanted to make changes in her life. Just knowing someone else was looking into self improvement made the thought not so daunting. Being asked how my progress was going made the answer of "not well, haven't done anything" more motivating. I hate seeing those words.

We had all these goals and I had shared them with a couple of other people. And I tried believe me I did.

But this is where things began to change for the better. And trust me, this is going to sound incredibly stupid. After looking at my list, i realised that in order for me to achieve anything, I need to actually heal myself. I was nowhere close to be able to physically or mentally do it. I would fail constantly. I don't have it in me to make these big changes and that's okay. I need to work on being okay enough so I can.

Lose weight? Sure. But maybe getting up in the morning without feeling like death would be a better start. Work on skin routine so that I have a perfect complexion? Not insane. But maybe look into eating a decent meal that doesn't make me nauseas would be a little better. Work out 5x a week? Maybe not snapping at everyone because I don't care what they're talking about is a little more important.

That is what clicked in my head. I'm not going to achieve anything if I can't function like a basic human being. I need to get through a month without feeling sick. I need to wake up feeling okay. I need to eat a meal and feel my body actually accept instead of reject. I need to go into a day with a positive outlook, not instantly a negative one.

The shift mentally seemed to have opened up my eyes. And this shift was only able to happen with having the positivity of the people around me and being very strict with my anti-depressants.

So with this in mind, I took awhile to process. What can I do to achieve this. I need to be healthier. Just so I have the strength to change. Have I tried being healthier in the past? Sure, and it fucking failed. Why? And that's where all of this really changed.

Psychologically, how do I work? What things work for me? How do I respond? I'm stubborn. Stubborn as fuck. I can use the "salesperson" gift and talk and manipulate. I need to be told. I need rules and I need to be held accountable. Being a strong, independent woman with no sense of what is good for you has fucked me up big time.

So I talked to the doctor. These are my issues. Do I need to be concerned? From a medical stand point, i'm okay for now but heading down a bad path. Great! Tell me the truth. Make me scared.

Next, I searched for a nutritionist. I hate food. I hate cooking. I hate shopping for food and meals and everything. I hate it with every fibre. But this is how we survive as a species. Fuck it alright. Tell me in plain terms what I need to eat. Stay on my ass. Keep an eye on me. If you let me wander, I will. If you give me any slack, i'll take it. I'm undisciplined with a strong head. Give me an inch, i'll fucking make a gigantic valley. The nutritionist I found offered all of the above. A 12 week plan where I have to check in with her. Meal plans, recipes, tests. A fucking app where I can message her. An app where I have to upload a food diary and she reads it every week. That there is what works for me. I need someone to watch over my shoulder but for my own good. Now for someone to surview me this close mustn't be cheap. And you're right. Just for the consults alone, i'm looking at close the $1k. Thats not including supplements, extra testing and oh yeah....THE FOOD. But like the gym. I'm paying money i dont really have to spare for this to happen. I'm guilted into making this work.

She works with gut health. An issue I've had since 5 mins into my life. Constant tummy aches, nausea, bloating, vomiting, food intolerances. Everything. On and off for my entire life. This isn't about losing weight. This is about health. I need to feel okay to make a change.

And here we are. I've been working with her for a month now and already i'm way better. She listens so intently and creates a personalised plan. This means I know that all the effort is for things specific for me. Not for the masses. I'm working on gut health, heart health and skin. Luckily, these seem to be very cohesive with one another.

So now that we are at this point, I finally feel like I have the energy to start looking forward at goals. Realistic goals.

The next 30 days, i'm about to enter into a plan to address some of these health issues. I have SIBO. You should have seen me when I found out. I was so happy. Finally something to grasp onto. A strict eating plan and an in depth supplement regimen. It's going to be hard but I maybe able to finally feel okay. This is where it all turns around. I can feel it. I'm so positive that this is a turning point. I want this blog to show and reflect my life changing (for the better).

[isaidfireball]

stupid attempt at feeling better #2 (#1 was weed)

ok, this is gonna be a string of conciousness to try and unbreak my heart a little, peeps so buckle up!

after he told me it was our anniversary and explained it was the date we spent all day talking about how hurt i was, spent it crying in a motel, i snapped. this was our second anniversary the date, before that one (the original time he told me he liked me and wanted to date me) he told me he couldn't believe i liked him too, i was out of his league and the immediate words out of his mouth were "like, your friend X, she would've blown me out of the water!" i let it pass but it hurt like hell. he said he was drunk. i thought maybe he was just awkward. but it stung a lot but he had no way of knowing what went down between X and i.

i told him later how X did me dirty, did a lot of people dirty and fucked their lives up royally mine included. it was one of the worst experiences of my life and i lost a lot because of that woman. his reply was "well, she doesn't look like that". that hurt, because nobody believed me when i said X fucked me over because she has a very cutesy persona. so it really fucking hurt. but i also let that one fly although i did make my anger about it known.

weeks later? i find out he still followed her on social media. i called him out, you can't even unfollow the person that fucked up my life? ok. he unfollows her. after i asked. thanks for being loyal, pal.

months later, she comments on one of his tweets. so he unfollowed her but didn't delete her and even interacted with her. alright. so i broke up with him and explained why. after so much saying he'd be fighting by my side i felt deeply betrayed. he wasn't who he said he was, his actions didn't line up with his words. my heart was broken, i was hurting so bad. i thought he was my partner and he was just some dude.

this along with a bunch of bullshit comments about my appearance. i haven't taken a selfie since like august-september of last year because last time i sent him a nude it wasn't received as i expected and it was pretty evident. why? i shaved my head. i've shaved my head a lot of times. he met me with my head shaved. i now sport a pixie i hate. i haven't felt comfortable in my body or sexuality since. my self esteem is nowhere to be found.

during the break my therapist said that those actions while not physically, they were violent. wether he was doing it on purpose or not. i told him, we talked, he went to therapy a couple of times and read some books, asked me to let him show me the real him. i agreed, we got back together. i missed him and the idea of him realizing what was happening and changing it? i'm in.

he tried to make me feel loved after that i guess, but it was just all tainted. i can't trust anything he says, the context is there.

it was a perpetual "yeah, but". i love him with all my heart yeah, but i'm terrified or trusting him and don't feel safe." or "i want to be intimate with him yeah but, i don't feel comfortable having sex with a person who has made it clear doesn't find me attractive unless i look a certain way". "he gets my neurodivergent side yeah, but i haven't videochatted with him because i feel like i have to act a certain way or else he gets sad." "i want to grow old with him yeah, but he acts like his mom is his wife and you're his mistress, keeps you in hiding and doesn't tell you when she's gonna see her".

i can't say anything in my friends chat because we have mutual friends and normally his asshole remarks and actions are justified with "he's dumb". he isn't. he's very smart. and can be manipulative. he's not a bad dude, but he does things that hurt and i think he knows sometimes.

and i'm hurt. very much hurt. but i miss him so much. and i wish nothing but to go back to him, but i know that will make me cry every day just like it has for the past 2 months. i love him. but i can't let go of all the shit he's said and done and i can't keep telling him how much it sucked because that isn't fair either. "he's sorry but can't erase it" and i get that. but i think i deserve better than an anniversary at a seedy motel after crying for hours. or after you told me "she didn't look like that" or that "she'd blow you out of the water". or maybe i don't and i should've sucked it up because he was the only person that'll get me and love me. and have patience with me.

it ended because i can't let go of it and he gave me two options. i couldn't move on, i tried. but i can't. it hurts too much. and i can't be his friend because i love him and i don't want to see him with someone else. so now we're nothing and i lost my partner and one of my best friends. and i'm so confused because i'm so relieved but i miss him so much. and i am very, very sorry i just couldn't get over everything. but maybe i didn't have to. but maybe i did. i don't know.

and i just have tumblr to tell. so there. good thing nobody follows me here i think. and if you do: sorry mate, i just needed to out this somehow.

tl;dr: everything hurts and i'm dying. i wish i could just move on from it because i love him, he gets me. but then again, love doesn't hurt and i've been hurting since day one. when he told me he liked me and then immediately mentioned someone else. lesson learned.

[tarotmander]

Mourning

A Poem By Sal Engle

I’ve been mourning my parents since the day I was born.

That's pretty melodramatic of me to say but the older I get the more I realize it’s true.

I know that no parent is perfect.

But when I look at my mother and my father, I realize that most parents at least try to be.

The saddest part of coming from a broken home is that you never really get to mourn what could have been.

Or maybe it’s that you never really get to get over losing what you never had.

My dad used to beat my older brother and when he moved in with his dad, mine started to beat on me.

My mom never said anything. 

I used to hate my brother for leaving. 

Now I hate my father for staying.

Going to college has allowed me to realize a lot of things.

I was never the villain.

My brother did what he had to.

My mother was just as bad as her husband. 

And that I feel sorry for the grown man who had to beat a kid because he was to stupid to learn basic communication skills.

I also realized that I miss missing them.

When I was a kid I would always have to go home early from sleepovers because I missed my mom so much.

Now I live over two-hundred miles from her and I barely feel a thing. 

The worst part of coming from an abusive home is always wanting to go home, but having nowhere to go.

Because the house you live in hasn’t been home for over a decade. 

It stopped being home when you started taking the hits for your younger siblings' mistakes.

It stopped being home when you started finding ways to get away for more and more time every day,

It stopped being home when you spent more time thinking about how to kill yourself than about what you wanted for your birthday.

It stopped being home when you felt selfish for being happy.

I haven’t felt safe in years because of my parents.

My mom would read my journals,

My dad would hit me over the stupidest shit.

One time I remember I had said something about him needing to put the dog away because I was busy and she was being a little annoying. 

He replied with something about locking me up in a kennel everytime I annoyed him.

So being a seventeen year old with a perfect duplicate of his temper I spit back “so do it then.”

I had a friend over so I thought he wouldn’t do anything.

I was wrong.

He came into the kitchen where I was making us dinner because, gods forbid he cook for his kids, and he cornered me by the fridge.

He tried to hit me and I pushed him away.

First rule of a physically abusive parent is never fight back.

I forgot the rule and got my comeuppance for that mistake.

He grabbed my throat, pinned me against the wall, got in my face and yelled at me.

Told me to “never fucking put your hands on me.”

He wasn’t drunk, or high, just pissed. 

My crime was being a mouthy teenager.

My punishment was being choked and slammed against a wall.

It’s been two years since then and I still remember exactly how he smelled, how his hand felt, the look in my younger sibling’s eyes when he walked away. 

Most importantly I remember how I just went back to making the fucking mac-n-cheese on the stove while I choked down my sobs. 

Because of shit like that I never learned how to respond when someone would hurt me. 

I got into my first fight at thirteen for some guy who was treating me as bad as my parents did. 

The girl I got into it with beat my face so bad that I had a black eye and spotty vision for a week.

My first thought after I got away from this bitch?

“Damn you’d think I would be able to take a hit by now.” 

Do you realize how fucked up that was.

Because I didn’t.

I stood in the girls bathroom of my middle school sobbing and I just berated myself because I couldn’t take a hit at thirteen. 

She almost broke my eye socket and I was just pissed that I was crying over it. 

My dad had this saying.

“Never be a victim, be a survivor.”

And he brought it up every single time I talked about anything bad in my life. 

I wasn’t allowed to be angry or upset or to hold a grudge because I needed to “get over it.”

I got beat up? Get over it.

I got left behind in a house fire as a child? Get over it.

I was sexually assaulted? Get over it

I was molested?

I was abused?

I was dumped?

Get over it, get over it, get over it.

I wasn’t allowed to be upset.

And my mother echoed that sentiment. 

In theory she is very much the grin and bear it type.

Which is ironic because in practice she’s more the get drunk till you forget it type.

Because of that I slowly came to the realization that my parents would never be there for me. 

And once I realized that I started to mourn our relationship.

I mourn my parents not because I love them.

In fact if I got a call that my parents died last night I would go out, get a fake ID, and drink myself stupid to celebrate. 

I mourn them in the same way you mourn a fake friend.

I mourn the people I wanted them to be.

Not who they are. 

I mourn the way I wanted them to be.

I mourn because I know that no matter what I do or how hard I try I will never make them proud enough to say it sober. 

And that hurts.

I will never say it doesn’t.

But I will say that it doesn’t matter.

Because their opinions of me haven’t mattered for a long time. 

I just had to accept that to feel better. 

I don’t have parents, I haven’t had parents for a long time.

But that’s okay.

I’ll mourn that family for the rest of my life.

Losing a parent while they’re still alive hurts as much as them dying.

Except when you lose them while they’re alive you spend the next twenty years being haunted by someone you never got to know. 

But one day I’ll get over it.

And one day I’ll finally put away the mourning clothes.

And that day is the day that I’ll finally be okay.

[wollfling]

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