#other people work way harder than me and get even less

[redgoldsparks]

January Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut. You might notice the layout image looks different! I have switched to using the Storygraph wrap up and I'm now linking to the Storygraph reviews as well :)

The Sweetness Between Us by Sarah Winifred Searle 

Perley and Amandine are both readjusting to high school life after a major health crisis. Perley was diagnoses with diabetes; Amandine was turned into a vampire after a car crash nearly ended her life. They bond in remedial classes over just wishing their lives could go back to normal. Perley tentatively rejoins the knitting club; Amandine wants to rejoin a sports team but struggles with exhaustion; both of them have less energy than they had before. Their friendship develops into something more, but can they maintain a romance when they are both still figuring out their own shit? This is a very sweet slice of life story with a fun dash of the supernatural. I wanted a little more from some of the queer themes; I spent most of the book unsure of Perley's pronouns. But I was absolutely rooting for these two oddball teens to find their way back to each other.

LaserWriter II by Tamara Shopsin

This is a novel, loosely, but more so it's a little window back into a specific era of repairable technology and the people who were drawn to it. Set almost entirely in a (real, I think) Mac repair shop in New York City in the 1990s, this book jumps from backstory to backstory, introducing a range of self-taught computer fanatics. The cast and the story both feel wide but not deep. I didn't get to know anyone well, not even Claire, the newest hire and lead character. It did give me some serious nostalgia, even though I was really too young in this era to really have any meaningful relationship with it's technology. A weird but charming little book.

The City in Glass by Nghi Vo, read by Susan Dalian

The demon Vitrine has been nurturing, building, challenging and haunting the port city of Azril for hundreds of years when the angels come to burn it to the ground. She tries to defend her people from the heavenly attack but only succeeds in cursing one of angel, embedding a thorn of spite in his side. When his brothers leave, he is forced to stay, and since he has nothing else to do, he watches her begin the long, painful process of cleaning and rebuilding. This is a dreamy stream of consciousness book with less plot that I'm used to from Nghi Vo. I'll admit this one captured me less than her work usually does though the prose is very beautiful.

The Concierge at the Hokkyoku Department Store vol 1 by Tsuchika Nishimura 

Akino is a new hire at the Hokkyoku Department Store, a store build to serve talking animal customers including many unusual and nearly extinct species. Akino must find a way to be present, polite and helpful without hovering or intruding on the customers experience. This is harder than it sounds, especially with fussy managers always watching the store floors! Sweet, silly, and very warm hearted. I like the delicate, retro lineart style.

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting by KJ Charles read by Cornell Collins 

Another fun historical m/m romance from KJ Charles, this one more in the comedy of manners genre. I had a good time with it, I liked the leads, and as usual the secondary characters really shown. I did wish the enemies part of the enemies to lovers plot had lasted a bit longer, and the overall silliness of the story isn't going to make this the first Charles book I rec to anyone unfamiliar with her work, but it kept me entertained.

Noodle and Bao by Shaina Lu 

Momo loves living in Town 99, a historically Chinese neighborhood where she knows everyone and all the best places to eat and hang out. But things are changing. Her parents are worried about making rent, and her favorite restaurant was kicked out of its location and now operates out of a cart. The owner of the new restaurant, Fancé Cafe, has big plans to buy out the whole block and upscale everything. Momo rallies her friends and neighbors to fight back against the gentrification. This is a very sweet book for young readers, with talking animal characters and whimsical food battles interwoven with community organizing. An epilogue explains the issues around gentrification for a child who might not have encountered it before.

Brownstone by Samuel Leer and Mar Julia 

Almudena grew up with her white mom, always wondering about the Guatemalan father she'd never met. Until one summer mid-high school when her mom heads off to Europe for a dance tour and drops her off at the Brooklyn brownstone her father, Xavier, is renovating. Almudena has to navigate around a language barrier, an through unfamiliar neighborhood, and into a close knit Latino community many of whom see her as not brown enough to count. But Almudena is determined not to let this opportunity to know her father slip away. This is such a warmhearted book, funny and kind, with a really well developed cast. The art and the writing make a perfect whole, capturing a deeply specific mid-1990s moment. I've been following the artist's self published releases for years and I'm so happy to see their work shine in a full length book!

Leap by Simina Pepesco 

Ana is a college student in a contemporary dance program in Budapest, but her heart has fallen out of dancing. She skips her own classes to spent time rehearsing with her secret girlfriend, Carina, an ambitious ballerina in the classical program. Her new roommate, Sara, transferred out of classical and into contemporary and is thriving in the new, more supportive environment. She's also starting to develop feelings for the kind teacher, Marlena, who helped her transfer. Both of them are struggling to figure out their relationships with their art, as well as their sexualities, as well as how safe or not safe it feels to be out at their private, gossip-prone school. This is a really well told and well drawn coming of age story; I also really appreciated it as a story of queer friendship which complicated some of the standard narratives around first crushes/first relationships/coming out being kind of anti-climatic, half affirming, half disappointing. Definitely recommend!

Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar 

What a book! Several of my friends called this one of their top reads of last year and I can see why. The book centers around Cyrus Shams, a poet and recovering addict, who was raised in the US by a single father. The pair left Iran when Cyrus was a baby after his mother was killed in a passenger plane, shot down by mistake by the US army. In his late 20s, Cyrus is mostly drifting through life, working weird part time jobs, sometimes writing, trying to stay sober. He wants to write about the concept of martyrdom, about dying for a cause, or what makes people consider a death meaningful. When he hears of a Persian artist literally hosting her last weeks as she dies of cancer in the Brooklyn Museum of Art, Cyrus flies to New York City to speak with her. Their conversations will impact him more than he could ever have dreamed. This is an usually structured book, full of flashbacks, alternate POVs, dream sequences. It's rich with layers of symbolism and meaning, especially with repeated references to names, to lineage, to legacy, the lingering trauma of violence and revolution, and what a life of art demands from the artist. This book surprised and moved me. I'm delighted that it was chosen by my book club, so I've got a lengthy conversation with friends about this book to look forward to!

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde read by Susan Duerden 

The Eyre Affair is a mystery-crime-sci-fi-comedy novel for the literary nerd. It is set in England in an alternate universe version of the 1980s, in which cloning of extinct animals for household pets is common, time travel looked down on as wretched career choice, and literary crimes get their own whole division in the police force. Thursday Next is a veteran of the Crimean War (which has been running more than a century) and a Lit Crimes special agent- her expertise is immediately needed when a priceless Dickens' manuscript is stolen by a thief whose image does not register on film. Things quickly get strange- and also hilarious.

Re-read in 2025: I revisited this after reading and loving Jasper Fforde's stand alone sci-fi novel Early Riser last year. Unfortunately, The Eyre Affair suffered in comparison- the main villain of the book is very weak, and I can now see the pacing issues of this debut novel. I still found it very funny and probably caught more of the classic lit jokes than I did last time, but it's no longer the Fforde novel I'd suggest people start with. Try one of his more recent works! 

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat vol 3 by Sakaomi Yuzaki translated by Caleb Cook

This series just keeps getting more and more adorable! This volume introduced two new characters, and I braced for a moment hoping they wouldn't be rivals to the main couple, who are very slowly beginning to flirt. I should not have doubted!! Both newbies immediately seen that Nomoto and Kasuga are interested in each other and begin to cheer lead/wing man from the sides. Plus, in the author's note, the author talks about selling merch for a Japanese organization supporting marriage equality. I can't wait to read more!

[love-and-monsters]

intrigued by the concept of "harem manager", please tell me more!

Okay, so the idea comes about from looking at species that have harems in real life- specifically ones that have female mimics. The idea is that while an alpha male looks significantly different from females and will drive off other males from mating with them, a beta male looks much more similar to the females. They just kind of insert themselves into the harem and mate with the females (and sometimes the alpha males!) surreptitiously.

My thought was, as the species evolved and moved toward intelligence, it would be harder and harder for the beta males to actually trick the alpha males. As language and communication evolved, there would be a lot more social knowledge about who's in what group, and I just don't think it would be feasible for beta males to fly under the radar forever. Instead, these beta males would make themselves useful to the alpha to avoid getting kicked out.

In the way distant past, beta males would sort of appoint themselves as harem keepers. They would be the ones to make sure the ladies in the harem were taken care of, groomed, fed, and made comfortable. They would also sometimes act as spokesmen for their alpha, talking him up to entice other ladies into the harem. In return, they would be allowed to have children of their own, though typically less often than the alpha. This reproductive strategy ended up allowing alphas to have larger harems, maintain larger swathes of territory, and successfully raise more children, and allowed the beta males to live relatively protected lives with guaranteed children in the future.

In more modern society, beta males (known typically as gynomorphs) are appointed to larger harems as harem managers. Their role is pretty much the same as it was in the past- ensure the happiness and harmony of the harem. Sort out fights, ensure everyone is treated fairly, and make sure the ladies of the harem are kept comfortable. A harem manager often acts as something of a combo between a head servant (in wealthy families, it's his job to manage the servants who interact with the harem, in less wealthy families he might take on the role of a servant himself) and counselor. If any of the ladies in the harem have an issue, they're encouraged to go to him first, so see if he can sort it out.

The gender breakdown is about 60% female, 30% male, and 10% gynomorph, so not every harem has a manager. Gynomorphs as individuals tend to have a lot of individual social mobility (even someone born to a poor family will often live a generally good life, since wealthier people have larger harems and more often need a manager, so any halfway competent gynomorph will often get snapped up into one of these families) but they had no ability to socially move their families. In the specific society I've created, gynomorphs don't take on family names and just take the family name of whatever harem they manage, so they can't elevate family statuses.

Gynomorphs who don't have harems often struggle. They tend toward hospitality positions, since it's considered 'appropriate,' but most of those who take those positions tend to have harems and work on the side to make extra money for their families. The issue is that gynomorphs who don't have harems are seen as either incompetent (they screwed up their job bad enough to get fired, something that's hard to do unless you REALLY fucked up due to the relative rarity of gynomorphs) or deviant (they aren't in a harem so they don't want a harem position, which is typically seen as selfish at best or perverted at worst, if they're engaging in romantic relationships).

Whether or not gynomorphs and males of the same harem are related varies society by society. They often aren't, though it's not uncommon for cousins to be paired up as teenagers in wealthier families. Some societies consider it unusual but not worth remarking on if the gynomorph and male of a harem are siblings. Other societies consider it basically the same as incest.

I could talk more on the physical differences between gynomorphs and males, but I think this is long enough. People can ask if they want more details in that realm! Anyway, I'm just into the dynamics at play here. I think it's cool.

[literarystarfish]

“W-who are you?” The blindfold heightened Whumpee’s every other sense. Their own voice sounded too loud in their ears.

Not even the sharp metallic taste of blood in their mouth or the strain in their arms that were tied painfully tight behind them or the rough gravel digging into their knees where they had been forced to kneel could distract them from the sound of their captor.

Their shoes clacking against the ground in a slow, predatory circle the only thing they could focus on. The sounds echoed off the walls making it harder to focus on where the person was as they circled them like a predator.

Were they sat in the middle of a garage? A warehouse? It seemed like some kind of large, empty room. They hated that they could feel nothing around them but the cold draft sending shivers up their spine.

It was hard to tell how close or how far away their kidnapper was.

“You don’t remember me?” Whumpee froze.

Close. Their attacker was close. Too close. They hadn’t realized the sound of their footsteps were getting closer. The echoes and the blindfold cinched over their eyes and ears made it too difficult to pinpoint.

They stood right behind them. Their voice low in a terrifying whisper. “I’m a little saddened by that, Whumpee. How could you forget me?”

“Whumper…” they breathed in disbelief.

Whumper chuckled, sending a different kind of shiver through them. They tsked in that easy, teasing way they did when Whumpee had really pissed them off. Like they were hiding their real anger behind their calm. That was always when Whumper was most terrifying. If they were calm.

“After everything we’ve been through, you just forgot me? We’ve spent so much time together in the past. Hours and hours. You always seemed to love when I visited. You were always begging for more. Or… were you begging me to stop? You know, after a while it was hard to understand what you were saying at all. You always did have to work on your mumbling. Got you in quite a bit of trouble before.”

The easy threat sounded like death to Whumpee’s ears.

Perhaps they already were dead.

After all, Whumper was dead. Caretaker killed them when they had rescued them. Whumpee saw them die. Whumper can’t be here. They can’t have captured them again. Dragged them off to who knows where.

Maybe Whumpee had died in that attack on the street. It hadn’t been a blindfold over their eyes taking their sight before their vision had gone completely black. No, it was death taking them.

And they’ve met Whumper in hell.

It had to be.

Because…

Because…

“You-you’re supposed to be dead..”

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy to get rid of me, did you?”

“C-caretaker killed you! I-I saw you!”

“They managed to get a good hit, I must admit. Much better than a weakling like them had any business getting on someone like me. They had taken me off guard, though. But it was very… satisfying… to return the favor.”

Caretaker’s face flashed through their mind. Scrunched with anger and desperation and terror.

Beaten.

Bloody.

Being pulled away from them, kicking and screaming as two masked people jumped them. A third attacker getting a nasty hit on Whumpee, rattling their world as their arms were wrenched behind them and a blindfold covered their eyes.

Caretaker had been with them when Whumper had kidnapped them. Caretaker had been attacked too.

“NO! Caretaker! What did you do to them?!”

“My, my. You’ve certainly gotten bold in your time away from me. I don’t remember you being so… loud.”

“What. Did. You. Do to them?!” They ground out between clenched teeth.

“Pity. We’ll have to do something about that unruly behavior again,” Whumper sounded less than impressed. Their non-answer only spiked Whumpee’s anger more.

“WHERE ARE THEY!? What have you DONE to them?!” Their uncharacteristically strong voice echoed off the walls. Even being back in Caretaker’s hands for a while now, they had not felt this willful in years. Not since Whumper kidnapped them the first time.

“Nothing they can’t survive, I’m sure.” Whumpee could hear the scoff in Whumper’s voice. “Stubborn, that one. A real thorn in my side. I couldn’t really kill them though, as much as I’d have liked to. I simply incapacitated them for a while.”

Whumpee bristled despite their fear. Their voice dropped menacingly as they growled “Where are they?”

“Oh, that’s the good part! I had my guys take them back with them. I’m sure they’re keeping them safe.” Whumpee’s heart squeezed when they remembered Whumper’s two right-hand men. Ruthless and strong. And incredibly loyal to Whumper. Whumpee has plenty of scars to remind them of those two. ‘Safe’ was a relative term with them.

“I wanted some time alone with you. See how you’ve been since Caretaker took you from me.” Whumper gave a dramatic sigh. “I see they’ve taught you disobedience. I suppose I’ll have to beat it out of them too.”

“Don’t. Touch. Them.”

“No, no. That would ruin my plans. If I remember correctly, threatening them was a great way to keep you in line. Only now I don’t have to lie that I have them under my control in order to get what I want. In fact, I’m sure you’ll have front row seats to hear their screams if they’re in the cell next to you.”

“No! Don’t hurt them! You wanted me! You have me! Leave them alone!”

“Ohhh, now,” Whumper tsked again. “That wouldn’t be any fun. I think it’ll be quite interesting to see who I can get to break first. Especially if it’s to ‘protect the other’. What do you think, Whumpee?” Whumper chuckled, their voice light. Teasing. “What would you do to stop their screams? Hmm? What would Caretaker do to stop yours? Who will succumb to the pain first? Crying and screaming and begging? Who will be able to withstand it longer?”

Whumpee tried to pull away from the rough grip on their chin as their head was forced to look up at where they imagined Whumper’s angry, fiery eyes were glaring down at them but it didn’t budge. They could feel Whumper’s hot breath on their neck as they leaned closer to their ear, sending Whumpee’s back ramrod straight at the proximity.

Whumpee hated to admit it, but Whumper’s presence terrified them to their core. They kneeled on the hard, painful floor frozen except for their quick, sharp gasps of air. Vulnerable. Scared.

“My bet is on them.”

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

trick to fun dialogue is just to make it a little hard to understand. maybe thats a cheap trick but i dont care

[cocklessboy]

The other day I told a friend of mine that I never forget to take my ADHD meds because I fucking love my ADHD meds. I'm in my late 30s, I didn't finally get a diagnosis and meds until less than two years ago, and they have changed my entire life.

And he raised his eyebrow at me. We'd been discussing addictive medications a few minutes before, like the Tramadol I finally got from the pain specialist to take once a week or so to give me a break from my chronic pain, so I reassured him that methylpenidate (Ritalin/Concerta) is not addictive (at least not in people with ADHD).

His response? To raise his eyebrow even harder and say "Well it sure SOUNDS like it's addictive!"

And I had to explain to this man - who works in a healthcare related job by the way - that just because medication makes you feel good and helps you, just because you look forward to taking it, that doesn't make it addictive or dangerous. And he wasn't convinced.

The simple fact that I was excited to take a daily pill that has literally changed my life, after decades of fighting to get that medication, made him think I shouldn't be taking it so often. That it must inherently be dangerous.

I'm not even in America, but I'm pretty sure this attitude began there and then spread over here to Europe. This Puritan idea of "if something feels good, you must beware of it. Pleasure is dangerous, it is sinful, it is addiction, it is evil."

I know too many people who subconsciously believe that pleasure = addictive = dangerous = bad. Joy is a slippery slope to hell.

So here is your reminder for today that you don't need to be afraid of feeling good. If something improves your life, use it. Even if it is addictive - learn what that addiction means, whether the addiction is inherently dangerous or not, and whether the benefits outweigh the drawbacks and risks.

My ADHD meds are, in fact, not addictive. But I will take them every day because they make my life orders of magnitude easier. I will enjoy them every time I take them.

My tramadol is addictive. I will still take it. I will keep it on a schedule to avoid becoming addicted, primarily because addiction in this case would mean reduced effectiveness. But I am not afraid of my painkillers. They are life changing.

Take your meds, everyone. Don't let anyone scare you away from doing something that improves your life.

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[cinematicbookworm]

.

[oracleofdiscord]

#holy shit this is like. such a good thing to point out

#bc we NEVER FIXED THE WIZARD PROBLEMS#WE FIXED ADAINES PROBLEM

#SHE GOT RICH AGAIN#BUT WE LEFT THE SYSTEM INTACT!!

(tags via @kipperlillyforpresident)

#i do get the canon though like even though it was supposed to be a bit i think about

#the girls in my hs spanish class who were from DR and spoke spanish every day w each other and at home

#and they weren’t great at spanish class! bc it was hard for them to articulate Why they were saying what they were saying

#it just made sense to them

#so i can definitely see jace being like i Know magic and i know that i’m good at it. but when you ask me to put down on paper how to cast

#a spell i can’t just put it into words. i just Do it

(tags via @t4tozier)

i guess it’s supposed to be canon that jace failed taking levels in wizard because it was too much work or he’s just not smart, which is fine i guess, haha very funny but have we considered the narrative parallels if it was actually because jace was (and still is, on a teacher’s salary? lbr) a broke bitch who couldn’t afford barrels of diamonds much like adaine??? have we considered that jace is a struggling artist turned grade school teacher because he didn’t have the money to invest in higher education? this man took online courses at his local community college and still somehow is buried under student loans. of course he went evil.

[songofwizardry]

r/ukvisa is a treasure trove of useful info and experience and has saved me so many times by digging up home office policies buried on the website that could get a visa rejected but boy does it not take a lot for several people on that sub to throw disabled people/"illegal" immigrants/asylum seekers/the entire concept of taxation and socialised healthcare/etc under the bus

[is-this-fascism]

Please help me survive and escape homelessness.

GFM

KF

CA

I want to be safe by the winter of 2025.

I'm having a difficult time fundraising for my van. Repeated car troubles and various other unexpected issues have eaten into my savings multiple times, and while in a slump I wasn't making as many posts about my situation and I got significantly less donations over the last ~6 weeks on both my gofundme and my kofi/cashapp. While I've 'regained' a lot of what I lost, I've been spending about as much as is coming in. Aside from one instance, my emergency expenses were eaten by my fundraiser savings, which was then gained back about as quickly as I was spending it on my daily expenses. I still haven't reached the goal for the recent $1000 I had to spend on my car.

So far I've lost $2,200 of the $3,100 that's shown on the GFM. I'll be updating the fundraiser to reflect the loss.

I'm autistic and struggle just to meet my basic needs, and despite that I've been denied disability income multiple times. Failing to hold a job (and developing PTSD symptoms from my time being employed), and let down and abandoned by anyone who could support me, I'm left with few resources and few options. I try to make posts when I'm in a good mood, or keep people updated when I'm in a bad mood. I make videos on YouTube, hoping eventually I can show people what their money has gotten for me.

On a good month, I only spend about $600, leaving me some space to save the donations I was previously getting. With winter and the holidays coming, I'm not sure I'll be getting as much money as the warmer months, and I'll be spending more on keeping myself warm and fed over the winter. It will be more like $800/mo now. The only real solution is getting more money than I'm spending, as I'm already spending as little as I safely can.

I'll only take financial advice from someone who has lowered their expenses below mine, with the same disabilities and circumstances as me. What I need is more money, and I don't always have the energy to pay back with art and things like that. I don't even always have the energy to post my pleas for help. I don't have a sponsor to help me make these posts.

I'm in a low energy mode because what can I do with no money? In a state where I have to spend as little as possible, see such slow results, see most of it taken by things outside my control, and somehow keep up hope that this will work?

When I feel safe and have adequate shelter in a van, I'll be able to REST. And then start working harder and making more money one way or another. Whether you think I should suck it up and get a job or you want to see me become a content creator, I need money for any kind of opportunity and I'm just not getting enough.

So, thank you to everyone who's suppported me so far. Thank you to the repeat supports. I'm sorry I had to spend your money on other things. Thank you to the person who covered most of a huge expense I was stressing about a couple months ago. Thank you to the person who sent me $200 to get a hotel and told me to take care of my mental health before saving anything. Thank you to the blogs that have featured my fundraiser in your posts. Thank you to everyone who keeps boosting and cheering me on even though you can't support financially.

I don't know what else I can do to get more people like that to see me. There are so many options on the internet, but it's still a daunting task and as much as I can't really afford to rest, I have to sometimes. Often, in fact.

Please keep boosting this post until my goal is really met. Until I can spend more than $600 a month and actually earn your money rather than beg for it.

[sabertoothwalrus]

There’s something I love love loveeee about Laios and how badly he wants to be cool.

Let me preface with this: in general, I believe the harder you try to be cool, the less cool you actually are. The less you care what people think about you, if you’re “cringe” or “weird”, the more likely people will perceive you as confident and self-assured.

There are countless pieces of media where characters try to fit in with some group, change every part of themself to look/act like what they’re “supposed” to be, and end up miserable, often realizing the people they’re trying to impress aren’t worth the trouble.

I’ve experienced this in my own life too! Sometimes when I go out I wear a rainbow propeller cap! Cause I think it’s funny and silly and!! I ALWAYS get compliments!! I don’t wear it to be cool, I wear it because it makes me happy. And people overall have a positive reaction to it. it’s a huge contrast to when I was teenager and didn’t really put as much of myself into my appearance/wardrobe, and barely left any kind of impression on people.

So anyway, let’s get into it.

Laios… he’s been hurt so badly by people. He resented humanity for it. And yet, he still yearns for the approval of others. He wants FRIENDS!!!! and was angry and frustrated to learn his perception of his relationship with Shuro was so drastically different than Shuro’s!!!!

He KNEW that people were put-off by his love of monsters. Up until Falin got eaten, he deliberately suppressed how much he talked about it with others. He probably thought by not talking about monsters so much, it was working!! He was doing all the Right Things now! So Shuro confessing he always hated him was a huge blow.

But the reality is, he loves monsters. And most importantly, he loves cool monsters. He fantasizes about what would make the Ultimate Monster.

He feels very strongly about what he considers “cool” as well. He finds all aspects of monsters fascinating, but can still be HORRIBLY underwhelmed when they look too lame for his tastes.

He knows most people don’t feel the same way he does. He knows his “cool” is everyone else’s “weird”. It’s so tragically sweet how he latches onto Kabru the moment he shows interest in monsters, and takes every opportunity to infodump about them to him.

He wants people to find monsters as cool as he does!! But, he also wants people to think he’s as cool as he finds monsters.

Like!!! djkfghadkfjg IT DOESN'T EVEN BOTHER HIM WHEN PEOPLE HAVE A WRONG IMPRESSION OF HIM! He's FLATTERED by it. It's almost like, at this point, it doesn't matter to him if people don't like him. People can not like him and still think he's cool.

And my favorite thing is, it works. Laios IS cool as fuck. You KNOW he thought he looked so badass when he did this and he was RIGHT:

And yet, this is him trying very hard to look cool. But it's Laios's version of cool. It's almost contradictory, in that sense. Cause he knows people still don't get it. Like. He wants to be cool. He doesn't care about the "normal" ways to be cool. He thinks his cringe thing is cool. He does his cringe thing, that people very much do still think is cringe. So you would think that, since he wants people to think he's cool, he would not do the cringe thing. But he wore the pelt because he thought it was cool. And people clapped and cheered for him anyway.

is what he's doing really so different than this? ^

YAYYYYY WOOO GO LAIOS YOURE SO COOL!!!!!!!

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Things I think the fandom needs to remember sometimes

-Ponyboy is not a loner or unpopular. He admits to having a lot of friends at school, and a few of them even visit him when he gets out of the hospital, though he notes it makes him uncomfortable that his middle class friends get to see where he lives. Which brings me to my next point;

-The gang does not spend all their time together, or even most of it. Yes they’re all friends, very CLOSE friends- yes, even Steve and Ponyboy- but they have lives outside of the gang. Pony has school friends, Darry has work or old school friends he skis with, Soda and Steve are inseparable to a degree that their outside lives overlap and their identities within the gang are also interwoven, but they all very much have lives outside the gang. Two bit has his mom and little sister and a revolving door of girls. Dallas only shows up when he feels like it and  he lives at bucks and jockeys in the races. Johnny couch surfs at the curtis’ and Two’s place, but he also regularly camps out in the lot and presumably crashes at Dally’s place sometimes too. Yeah, he’s Ponyboy’s best friend, but they’re not inseparable the way Steve and Soda are. It’s a different dynamic. The whole group has lives outside of the gang and I think it’s important to remember this. 

-The term ‘greaser’ is a derogatory term and originated in the 1800s as a slur against Mexican immigrants. It coloquial meaning changed when readopted by the greaser subculture in the 1950s and 60s (according to wikipedia), to primarily refer to lower working class individuals of mexican or italian ancestry, and becoming more ethnically ambiguous, but it still wasn’t widely used outside the subculture itself. Ponyboy is white, but he probably has some Italian ancestry which is characteristic of the greaser subculture, and he identifies with the word- but it’s still a more loaded term than the fandom sometimes pretends, and it still has racial undertones, regardless of how it’s portrayed in the novel and how it moved away from it's historically primarily racialised usage when adopted by the greaser subculture. Ponyboy makes a point of saying in the book that it’s okay for himself and the gang and others of their social group to use it, but when people outside the group call him it it ‘doesn’t make him feel so hot’. I think this helps illustrate that yeah, it’s an offensive term. ‘Greaser’ carries weight and I think it’s important for the fandom to recognise that.

-Darry is trying, but he isn’t a good guardian, and if he was then his character would not be redeemable after The Slap. The reason Darry Curtis as a character is so sympathetic is because he is twenty years old and trying his best, and his best is never good enough. If Darry was a well equipped guardian who was able to parent Pony AND Soda AND the gang (to an extent) the way his parents did, then him slapping Ponyboy would be unforgivable. It would be the action of a brute instead of the action of an overwhelmed older brother forgetting his new role as guardian. The reason Darry is forgivable and so beloved is because he is not perfect, or even good, at his role but he keeps trying and choosing to be present for his brothers over and over. (Remember, he had to fight very hard for custody, probably harder than Ponyboy realizes.)

-The portrayal of every female character is biased by Ponyboy’s narration- and Ponyboy has a lot of internalized misogyny and classism. It makes sense that he holds these ideas, considering the time period and the male dominated environment he grew up in where (presumably) the only woman he ever had any sort of close relationship with was his mother, but it doesn’t make it any less true. However, the women themselves are few and far between but incredibly important characters. I’ve spoken about it before but I think Sandy’s character and her unplanned teenage pregnancy sheds a small amount of light on how poverty affects women as opposed to men, something the book largely lacks due to the only main(ish) female character being upper class;  whereas Sylvia serves as a foil to Dally, and is essentially written to be the offscreen ‘female version’ of him, basically a representation of the ‘worst’ sort of greaser girl while Dally is the ‘worst’ kind of greaser. The only reason these women receive so much hate is because of misogyny- don’t pretend it’s just about the cheating, because it’s not- and if you want to hear further takes on them you can read my thoughts on the misogyny in the fandom here, and my thoughts on Sandy here.  Even Cherry, whom Ponyboy views positively, is viewed that way because of Ponyboy's biased ideas of what makes a girl 'good' and worthy of respect.

-Ponyboy has a fairly negative view of alcohol and alcoholism, but has a very addictive personality. Ponyboy has tried alcohol but didn’t like the way it made him feel. However, his view of Two-bit, while positive, seems to find him less brave than the rest of the gang as he drinks before the rumble, and Ponyboy ‘would hate to see the day he had to get his nerve from a can’. Soda’s reluctance to drink or smoke also adds to Ponyboy’s worship of him, despite the fact that Ponyboy is addicted to nicotine and caffeine respectively and it has the potential to be his undoing more than anything else in the east side.

-The entire story is built on grief. Johnny and Dally are doomed from the start, and Ponyboy mentions his parents' deaths from the first few pages. But loss of a loved one is not the sole type of grief the novel covers. Darry mourns the life he could have had, Soda mourns his imagined future with Sandy, and by the end of the novel Ponyboy is mourning his childhood and loss of innocence. I could go on, but I think the effect of grief is sometimes missing from analysis or canon compliant fanworks, when it is quite literally the driving force behind the story.

[leiatalon]

If you enjoy art, be kind to artists. 💞

Artists pour themselves into their work.

Whether it's writing, visual art, music, or any other artistic expression, when art is shared you're seeing a piece of someone's soul.

Please, be respectful. Be kind.

Constructive criticism is helpful if the intent is genuine improvement and it is delivered with compassion, but when people come from a place of entitlement or use cruel words it can discourage artists to the point where they stop sharing their art.

Please don't be that person.

If you put pressure on people, it's counterproductive. Yes, you might be feeling impatient to get an update on a game because you want more of it. You might have ideas that you think will make the story better.

But remember, you're not the artist.

Writers must write what they want or the creative process becomes a burden. We must stick to our vision or the story might not be completed.

We never know what's going on in someone's personal life.

PLEASE BE KIND.

This is not directed at my own readers because all of you have been lovely to me and I appreciate that so much!

However, I have several friends who are feeling discouraged because of comments made by fans who are coming across as impatient and less than compassionate.

My recommendation if you find this happening to you is to take a deep breath. Touch grass. Go outside. And, perhaps more than anything:

Create your own art.

Writing is hard. Writing IF games is even harder. If you've never tried it, you don't have that perspective.

If you enjoy interactive fiction, or painting, or music, or any other creative pursuit and are finding judgmental thoughts creeping into your head about an artist's work, try making your own. You might enjoy it! You might not. Either way, you'll gain valuable insight into a process which is increasingly complicated as a story goes on.

Art helps us express ourselves. It adds beauty to the world. As people who enjoy art, we can amplify that beauty by the way we respond to it.

If we approach art from a place of appreciation and gratitude, not only do we get more enjoyment from it but we can provide support to the artists who create it, and thus help them feel empowered to share more art with us.

Kindness. Patience. Gratitude. Respect.

This is the kind of nourishment artists need from their fans, and the kind of motivation that helps us create in optimal ways.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. 💞

[cheriladycl01]

Would you be up for writing a fanfic with Lando or Max x reader where reader also races but due to the training and harsh training her team and trainer are putting her through develops an ED (common among competitive sports and I’ve got experience 😭) maybe Reader faints or her bf finds out? No problem if not 😘 love your writing!

Those inward struggles - Max Verstappen x Driver! Reader

Plot: After having to change you diet and do more work after struggling in Singapore you spend a year on strict training away from your boyfriends knowledge. What happens when a year on and people are noticing how much more exhausted your looking after each race.

Warnings: Eating Disorder, Reader Being Sick

Singapore and Qatar 2022 was extremely hard for you. Your body temperature in the car didn't regulate that well and you lost way more weight than any other driver.

You new that the 2023 season was going to be even harder with where the races were placed in the year.

Your physician wanted you to keep the weight off. The lower your body mass, the less you'd struggle with the heat. That was their thought process and that's what they deemed best for you as a woman. So of course, you trusted the team's decisions and you started to train more, and eating in a calorie deficit.

They'd come up with a plan for you to loose a safe amount in a safe amount of time, however it almost felt like a competition and you wanted to be as ready as possible.

At first it was hard, you craved sugar and grease the most but eventually once the majority was out of your system the vegetables and fruits started to taste like when you have a sip of that half stagnant water at 3am when your body decided to lower your thirst bar all the way down.

Max as a driver had also seen how much more you were with your personal trainer, and how it didn't just stop when you got home as you would often be in your home gym.

You'd serve yourself less and meals than him and he noticed these little things. Of course he did, he'd been obsessed with you since he was a 13 year old and both of you met in karting.

You started dating a year before he got into F1 quite literally being the definition of childhood romance. But this did mean that he knew you like the back of his hand.

"Baby, how about a sweet treat?" he asks holding up your fav type of cookie waving it in front of your face.

"I really shouldn't, I think the team wouldn't be happy if they found out I was eating more than i should!" you explain to him, continuing to wash the dishes from earlier that night.

"But... you didn't have much for dinner and you skipped lunch!" he asks remembering what you'd eaten throughout the day.

"Oh? So your keeping tabs on me now?" you ask looking him over with a soft yet teasing frown.

"Well, when your with me for a good portion of the day I notice" he grumbles making you turn your head to him at that tone, it wasn't one he used often.

"Huh?" you say leaving the dishes fully in the sink before placing a hand on your hip.

"Look, It's not just me noticing it but your not healthy right now!" Max offers and you turn back round to do the washing up.

Your trainer said you might feel a little tired and icky while you were on such a strict diet but once you'd got to your goal weight you'd feel better.

"Please just eat the cookie!" he smiles and you roll your eyes. You take the cookie and finish it off under his watchful eye. It tasted so good, but you almost gagged at how heavy the chocolate felt at the back of your throat and how you could feel the chunkiness of the chewed batter.

There wasn't that fresh aftertaste you been getting recently from the various fruits and veges you'd been relying on to get you eating something.

You gagged at something that used to be a delicacy too you, something that would excite you. However you finished it off to please Max. Once he was satisfied you had your filling he explained he was going out to a set with Lando, Daniel and Charles.

You'd already said you wanted to stay home today.

The minute he was out the door you were in the bathroom getting the sugary sweet treat out of your body, feeling disgusting from having had it.

The guilt was eating away at you the minute you had it, you knew just how unhappy the trainer would be. You spent the rest of the evening in the gym, weighing yourself before and after the session.

To your dismay there was no improvement and you sat in the gym crying over you predicament.

It was time for the 2023 Qatar Grand Prix, you were already struggling just walking round the paddock in the areas that didn't have aircon. When you'd done your track walk, you could feel the damp sweat on areas of your body you didn't know was possible.

However, you pushed and pushed yourself through the whole weekend, you drunk lots of water and made sure to keep up with the exercising and kept eating to a minimum.

When you'd got in the car for the first practice your hard work seemed to pay of, coming P4. Again in qualifying you'd had a fastest lap in Q2 and split the Mercedes up Q3 coming P3 behind Max and George. Both of these weren't too bad, it was in short bursts that didn't make you too hot.

However as the weekend moved forward, it was obvious to your team, to Max and to the media that you were becoming more and more exhausted. A lot of people noted that your tailored race suit was starting to bag in places it shouldn't and that you had sunken areas on your face, making you look all the more exhausted.

The Sprint shootout was awful, you placing 9th fastest overall, which compared to your earlier racing was no good for you or your team.

You only managed to move up one place to P8 in the Sprint, meaning you were in the points but you were taken to the medical tent after reporting feeling dizzy and your sight spotting.

Max had headed over to the Aston Martin garage asking for you, all the mechanics just saying you were still with medical. He rushed over, quicker than his car on a flying lap as no-body actually knew what was wrong with you.

"Y/N?" you'd heard as he'd come storming in looking around for you.

"I'm in here!" you said and he came over taking your hand in his.

"What's going on, what's wrong?" he asks looking over you.

"Nothing, just had a bit of a migraine. Apparently not enough water!" you lie, knowing the doctors were still doing tests but they said you were free to leave.

You'd left, he'd comforted you at the hotel making sure you had everything you could possibly need before you both slept away the tire of the day.

Sunday of course was a shit show. Medical still hadn't fully worked out what was wrong with you and they were debating pulling you from the race. You'd refused saying you were fine to race.

You were 20 laps in when your vision started to blur until ringing in your head occurred.

You tried to keep up with the fluids from your drinks tube but they were just heating up along with everything else in the car.

"Y/N are you okay. Medical have just deemed you should be racing. We want to retire you" your engineer comes through at lap 50.

"7 more laps, I'll be fine" you groan. You'd managed to stick to P4 for the majority of the race. But now that vision in your left eye was pretty poor you were taking turns a little more hesitantly meaning you were down in P6.

You defended from Ocon like your life depended on it, and finally pulled up to the area where the cars sit when the race it over. You sit in the car, in silence trying to get your vision back and stop shaking.

You body ran cold, you were shivering now and could feel the cold sweat in your suit, you wanted to reach up and take your helmet off more than anything but your arms didn't obey.

So you just sat there, until some Aston Martin mechanics came through with water. They helped you out and up handing you a bottle of water. But with the ringing not having stopped your vision completely went as you fell back onto the hard ground of the track.

Max once he'd found out his team and your team and pretty much everyone had kept you fainting from him a secret he had yelled, a lot, at anyone and everyone he could.

Even Lando and Oscar in the cool down room had to be at the receiving end of his wrath.

After his podium that he had tried to make as quick as possible he was right with you. Yelling at everyone while making sure you were getting the correct medical attention.

When he found out the reason behind you fainting and the fact that you drove the last few laps half sighted he was back to MAD MAX, and oh boy it wasn't a pretty sight.

He couldn't believe your team who were supposed to make sure you were in the best health had actually been hindering you and not helping you.

To say the he and Rupert his own personal trainer would be taking over from now on and he'd be hiring a private nutritionist to get you back on track to your starting F1 weight in 2022.

He loved you and would do anything for you.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[itneverendshere]

rafe finding out you’re back to not taking care of yourself, especially when he’s coming back from rehab. you’re going back to full swing less than bare minimum to take care of yourself

thank you for the request!!🩷 hope you enjoy!!

the way you hold me is actually what's holy - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe had this whole plan in his head.

He was finally back in town after spending the better part of six months at that damn rehab center. Finally clean, head clear, body feeling... normal, or at least as normal as it got after kicking all the shit he put himself through. The whole time he was there, he thought about you. How you visited him every week no matter how exhausted you were from your shifts now that you’d been promoted. How you took extra days off work for him, even when you couldn’t afford to miss them. How you always brought him a home-cooked meal because you knew he hated everything they gave him at that place.

And he promised himself that when he came back, things were gonna change. He was gonna change—for you.

It was all worked out. He’d show up at your sister’s place a day before he was supposed to leave, surprise you, maybe bring some flowers. Then he’d ask you to move in with him. He thought about it day and night. He was tired of that house. Of having his dad constantly hovering over his shoulder, even when he was miles away. He was gonna get a new place, not one of those temporary rentals where he barely unpacked his bags. A real place, a clean slate.

A new start. For the both of you.

But when Monica opened the door, his plans went out the window.

“Rafe?” Her eyes widened for a second before her face broke into the widest smile he’d seen in months. And before he could even get a word out, she threw her arms around him, hugging the living hell out of him like it had been years instead of just months. "Oh my God, you’re back! You look... you look amazing."

The way Monica squeezed him, how genuinely happy she was to see him—it hit him harder than he expected. Rehab was tough. Really tough. And he didn’t expect people to be waiting for him on the other side, not like this.

"I’m back," he muttered, hugging her tightly as he let himself breathe for the first time since stepping out of that damn place. Monica had been there for him too, just like you had. She’d kept you company sometimes when you went on those long drives to visit him. He didn’t deserve people like you two in his life, but he wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Monica pulled back but kept her hands on his shoulders, her eyes sparkling with this genuine pride. "You look healthy. I mean, really healthy. It’s good to see you like this."

Rafe smiled, a little bashful. "Yeah. Feels good to be back. I’ve been, you know, working on shit."

She smiled back, her eyes glinting with emotion. "I’m so proud of you, Rafe."

His throat tightened at that. He wasn’t used to hearing those words, you were the only one constantly reminding him of it. Everyone else said it with some hidden judgment or expectation behind them, like they were waiting for him to screw up again. But Monica meant it. She always did. She was your sister, after all.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, feeling more awkward than he should’ve, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m trying, you know?”

She squeezed his shoulder before stepping back, "You here to see her?"

"Yeah. I, uh... wanted to surprise her.”

The smile on Monica’s face dropped just a little, and Rafe’s stomach sank instantly. He knew that look. It was the same one you got when you didn’t want to tell him something that might hurt him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, even though he already had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

Monica sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before she leaned back against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. "She’s at work right now."

“At this hour? I thought she—”

“She’s been working extra shifts. A lot of them.”

Rafe frowned. You already worked so much as it was. Extra shifts? Why? He thought things had been better for you since he left, that you had more time to focus on yourself, maybe even catch up on the sleep you’d missed while dealing with his mess. “Why? She didn’t tell me she was working more.”

Monica sighed again—something that made Rafe know he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, “She didn’t want you to worry. She didn’t want anyone to worry, actually.”

“Monica, what’s going on?” The anxiety clawed at his chest. He hated not knowing. Hated being in the dark, especially when it came to you.

Her eyes softened, and she took a step closer, like she could feel the panic building inside him. “Listen... she’s not taking care of herself. She’s been putting everyone first—Milo, her job, you—but she’s not eating enough, she’s not sleeping enough. She’s been burning herself out.”

Rafe’s heart sank. You hadn’t said a word about it to him. Not during any of his calls or visits. You were always smiling, always saying things were fine. But they weren’t.

He should’ve known. Should’ve seen the signs.

“She didn’t tell me.”

“She didn’t tell anyone. That’s the thing. You know she doesn’t ask for help. She just... takes it all on, even when it’s too much. And with you gone... I think she felt like she had to be strong for you, like she couldn’t let herself fall apart because you were going through so much.”

You had been falling apart, and he didn’t even see it. He’d been so focused on getting himself together that he didn’t notice you slipping. And now he didn’t know how to fix it.

“I should’ve done something.”

“No.” Her voice was firm, and she reached out to touch his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “This isn’t on you. You were getting better, doing what you had to do. She loves you, okay? She wasn’t going to let you worry about her while you were in rehab. She’s always been like this. Always putting herself last. It’s not about you. It’s about her not knowing how to let people take care of her.”

Rafe’s chest tightened, his mind flashing through all the times you’d pushed aside your own needs in the past, all the times you’d taken care of him instead of yourself. He thought that was never going to happen again. He’d been so blind to it, thinking you were the strong one. But you were just as fragile as he was, maybe more, because you didn’t let anyone see it.

"She’s working until midnight tonight. You should go talk to her. But... don’t be mad, okay? She’s doing the best she can."

Rafe nodded, his throat tight. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at himself for not seeing it sooner. For letting you drown under the weight of everything while he was too busy figuring out his own shit. “I’ll go see her.”

Your sister gave him a small smile, a little sad but understanding. “She needs you. Just... be there for her, okay? And don’t guilt-trip her about this. She already feels like she’s failing everyone.”

“I won’t,” he promised, even though the guilt was eating him alive inside. He had to be strong for you now, the way you’d been strong for him all this time. He just hoped it wasn’t too late to fix this.

With that, he left, heading to his truck, his mind spinning the whole way to The Country Club. He didn’t know how he was going to make this right, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let you keep doing this. He wasn’t going to let you fall apart, not when he was here now, ready to carry some of the weight for you.

The country club was quieter than usual when he pulled into the parking lot, but the bar inside was still buzzing with its usual evening crowd. He walked in, scanning the room, his eyes instantly finding you behind the bar.

You were moving like a pro, handing off drinks, shaking up cocktails, giving out that charming smile you always had for the customers. But now that he knew what was going on, it was easy to see how tired you looked. The dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped just a little between orders. You were running on empty, and it broke his heart.

Before he could even think of what he was going to say to you, your eyes found his across the room. For a second, everything seemed to stop. Your eyes widened in surprise, and your breath hitched, like you couldn’t believe he was actually there. He felt his heart skip a beat, and then—

“Rafe?” you breathed out, your voice soft and disbelieving. Without another thought, you bolted from behind the bar, not even bothering to tell anyone to cover your shift.

He barely had time to react before you practically jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms circled his neck. You clung to him like a koala bear, and Rafe caught you, holding you tight against him, his heart racing as he buried his face in your neck.

“Holy shit, you’re really here,” you mumbled into his neck, your voice strained with emotion. You clutched him tighter, like if you let go, he’d disappear. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” He explained, his voice muffled against your skin, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, even with all the heavy stuff on his mind. Just having you in his arms again felt like a weight lifting off his chest.

You leaned back just enough to look at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears as you cupped his face in your hands. “God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too baby.” He pressed his forehead to yours, his hands gripping your waist. “I’m back, okay? I’m here.”

A small laugh bubbled out of you, even though there were tears running down your cheeks now. “I can’t believe I’m crying at work. I never cry at work.”

Rafe grinned, brushing your tears away with his thumb. “I’ll let it slide this time.”

You laughed again, but then you seemed to remember where you were. You glanced over your shoulder at the bar, where a few customers were still waiting for their drinks. “Shit, I— I’m working."

He set you down gently, his hands still resting on your waist as you adjusted your shirt and ran a hand through your hair, clearly flustered but trying to get back into work mode. “I should get back to it.”

“Take a break,” He pleaded, his hand moving to grab yours. “Please.”

You blinked up at him, the tiredness you’d been hiding for months finally showing through. For once, you didn’t argue. You just nodded, squeezing his hand before leading him to quieter corner of the bar where you could talk without interruption. Once you sat down across from him, you took a deep breath, like you already knew something was coming.

“What did Monica say?”

Rafe paused, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on the table as he tried to figure out how to start. “She told me you’ve been overworking yourself. Taking extra shifts, not sleeping, not eating enough.”

You sighed heavily, leaning back in your seat and rubbing a hand over your face. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Rafe asked. He wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, but he needed to understand. “You’ve been doing all this, and you didn’t say a word to me.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers twisting together in your lap. “You were in rehab, baby. You were going through so much, and I didn’t want to add to your stress. I didn’t want you to feel guilty about me.”

“You don’t have to carry everything on your own,” Rafe said softly, his chest tightening. “I know I was a mess before, but I’m better now. I want to be there for you the way you were there for me. The way we used to be before.”

You shook your head, “I just... I didn’t know how to stop. You needed me, Monica needed me... work needed me. And I thought, if I just kept going, I could handle it.”

He reached across the table, grabbing your hands and holding them tight. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time you didn’t try to hide them. You let them fall, your grip tightening on his hands like you were afraid to let go. “I don’t know how to let go again.”

“Let me help,” Rafe whispered, leaning closer. “You’ve always been there for me, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. You don’t have to keep doing this by yourself.”

You nodded slowly, wiping at your tears with a shaky hand. “I just... I didn’t want to be a burden.”

The conversation gave him a sense of Deja Vu. You two had been here before.

“You’re not a burden,” Rafe said firmly, “You’ve never been a burden. You’re everything to me. And I don’t want you burning yourself out like this. Not for me, not for anyone.”

You took a deep, shaky breath, your eyes meeting his again. “I just missed you so much. And I didn’t know how to handle everything without you.”

Rafe’s heart clenched at the honesty in your voice, and he reached out, pulling you into his arms again. “I’m here now. We’ll figure this out together, okay? You don’t have to keep doing this alone.”

You clung to him, your face buried in his chest as you finally let yourself relax in his arms. And he held you determined to make things right. He was going to be there for you, the way you had always been there for him.

It felt so good to be in his arms, to finally let yourself feel vulnerable after holding everything together for so long. You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. You could see how much he cared, and it made you feel safe, but also exposed, it’s like you’d momentarily forgotten how good it felt to be so close to him.

As if reading your mind, he brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb, “I don’t want to see you like this anymore,” he said quietly. “You deserve more.” You opened your mouth to retort, but the words stuck in your throat as he continued, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the future while I was gone, and I know things have been tough for both of us, but I want to make them better. I want to be better. I want you to be better.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your heart pounding as you searched his eyes for answers.

He took a deep breath, his expression serious but tender. “I want you to move in with me.”

All you could do was blink in surprise.

“Rafe...” Move in? After everything? After months of barely surviving and keeping your head above water, now he was asking you to dive into something that felt... big. Scary even. You blinked again, and the look on his face was so serious, like he’d thought about this a hundred times over. Maybe he had. But you hadn’t. You’d been too wrapped up in keeping things from crashing to even imagine a future like that, let alone moving in with him. “Are you serious?” 

Rafe’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, “Yeah. I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t want to be apart anymore. I don’t want you running yourself into the ground, and I sure as hell don’t want you dealing with everything alone. I’m here now. I want us to have a fresh start, together.”

Your heart clenched. This was the Rafe you’d always believed in, the one you saw past all the shit he went through. And it was everything you wanted—more than you’d let yourself hope for. But then the doubt crept in. What if it was too much, too soon? What if things went wrong?

You dropped your gaze, focusing on the way your fingers tangled together, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t even know if I’m ready. I mean, everything’s been so... I don’t know, chaotic lately. I can barely keep my own life together.”

He let out a soft sigh, leaning closer. “I get that. I do. But that’s why I’m asking. We don’t have to do it all at once. We can take it slow. I just... I don’t want you to feel like you’re in this alone anymore. I need you with me, and I think you need me too.”

You did need him.

You’d missed him so much it ached, but you were terrified of leaning on him again, of letting yourself fall into something that might not last. But then again, wasn’t that what love was about? Taking chances, even when everything felt uncertain?

You swallowed hard, lifting your eyes to meet his. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But we take it slow, alright? I don’t want to mess this up.”

Rafe smiled, that slow, crooked grin that always made you fall deeper in love. “Slow is good. As long as we’re doing it together.” He tilted his head, watching you closely. He always seemed to know when you were lost in thought. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” His voice was soft, patient, like he wasn’t in a rush for an answer.

You gave a half-smile, shaking your head slightly. “I just... it’s a lot, you know? If I start freaking out, you have to promise not to take it personally.”

He chuckled, the sound so familiar it almost made you cry all over again, “Deal. And if I start freaking out, you’ve gotta do the same.”

You smiled, finally feeling the tightness in your chest ease. Maybe this could work. Maybe the two of you could find your way back to each other. You believed him wholeheartedly. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way he looked at you, like he wasn’t just making promises he couldn’t keep anymore. He was standing in front of you, offering something real, something he was willing to put in the work for.

Rafe’s gaze softened, his lips quirking into a small smile as he cupped your cheek. "I know we say this all the time, but I love you," he said, like it was second nature, like he was reminding you of something you both already knew, something solid and familiar. There wasn’t any grand declaration because it didn’t need to be—it was the quiet kind of love that had been there all along.

You leaned into his touch. “I love you too.” The words came so easily, as natural as breathing, because they were always there, hanging between the two of you, even on the worst days.

His thumb stroked your skin his eyes never leaving yours. "We’ll figure it out," he whispered like he wasn’t just saying it for you, but for himself too. "We always do."

You nodded, the corners of your mouth lifting in a small, tired smile. “Yeah, we do.”

[diejager]

omegaverse anon here, could you do the cod group with a beta reader? Like, they stay really out of the way, not really used to getting any attention from alphas or omegas

Unusual Attraction Cw: omegaverse, awkward!reader, ell me if I missed any.

You were an oddity of a beta, your stronger nose made interacting with people harder than other betas, it made you stand out from your peers, they deemed you a beta stronger than the usual beta and that made you feel isolated and alone. You were used to alphas ordering you around and moving you from team to team for your nose and clear mind, you were a asset to have on certain teams where they needed a buffer that wasn’t an heat-prone omega. And despite your constant entourage of omegas and alphas, you never stopped flinching or wincing when someone’s scent became too strong, the musk burning your nose in an enclosed area like the mess hall, the training areas, or even public spaces. 

You preferred keeping to yourself, to alleviate the growing headache pounding at your head, to find a calmer corner of the base you were permanently moved to. You knew the people you worked with from prior assignments, a few times on month long covert operation and others on week long clandestine missions offshore, but you liked your silence when you could afford to find it. Even outside, their scents clung to your clothes, the strong smell of Price’s smoke and Ghost’s bourbon, the distinct notes of strength and dominance that screamed Alpha, Soap’s sweeter and softer citrus that you could pick up despite the scent blockers and Gaz’s gentle vanilla, a soothing calmness that reminded you that you weren’t the only buffer to the team, that you were the only beta.

“Found ye, Hound!” You liked the way Soap said your callsign, his accent coming into play to make it sound different —special. 

He swung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side, your nose twitching from how close you were to his scent glands. You felt like he did it with intention, always finding a way to have you smelling like him and filling your mind with his scent, it was near addictive —so much so that you would’ve succumbed to it if you were an alpha, mind shutting off and body acting on it’s own volition. You wouldn’t blame anyone for it, Soap smelled so good, a sinful delight that people were deprived of, and when he wasn’t using the patches, it numbed your mind, made you slow and sloppy with your thoughts and acts. He knew the effect he had on you and he loved it from his constant hazing, flashing his gland in your face and drowning you in it whenever he could. Perhaps it was his claim on you, you never truly understood the whole dynamic, you were a buffer with a better nose, nothing more and nothing less.

“We were lookin’ fer ye,” he walked back in, still holding you in his grasp, “We’re going tae the pub. Thought ah’d come and get ye.”

They, on multiple occasions, had invited you to go drink with them, extending that olive branch your way with smiles and encouraging nods. You were tempted to accept, but you didn’t do well in enclosed and crowed spaces, so you declined over and over, but they never stopped asking you. It got to a point where you were waiting for them to stop asking, to tire themselves of befriended you, and yet, they never did, going so far as to pull you along despite your grumbling and exhaustion, promising a night of rest and relaxation at the pub. 

And fortunately, their words rang true, it was a blessing to your nose that the owners burned an overpowering but gentle incense that blocked all types of scents, a relief you rarely got. The only thing you could smell was the comforting scents of your new pack, the oil-packed burgers and fries, and the strong burn of alcohol, all thing that you didn’t mind as long as it came in moderation to your nose. After your first drunken and giggling visit to the pub with them, basking in their attention, Soap throwing himself over Ghost’s lap and grinning at you cheekily, Gaz leaning against your side, nuzzling the crook of your shoulder, Ghost’s big and warm hand grasping your thigh and Price looking on with so much pride. 

“The occasion?” You followed him blindly, blinking lazily at him.

“Yer third month with us,” he smiled widely, something carnal and wild, befitting more an alpha than the omega he was. Maybe that’s why he could easily pass as an alpha, with all his bravado and broadness, either way, he was a dangerous man alone, but as a Task Force, they were a menace.

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