#so i hope maybe it can help someone else too

[beloveds-embrace]

dukedom!AU but they realize she’s quickly become a type of ‘peoples princess’ outside the duchy

The timeline for this one is before reader tells john her request! I got this ask before part two dropped and already had some of it written. Hope you enjoy, anon! <3

Dukedome au masterlist

I can imagine them realizing it not from seeing it, but from hearing it, maybe during a gala hosted by John and uou. The evening is alive with music and laughter, the grand ballroom brimming with nobles and dignitaries. Yet the chatter revolve around one figure: you.

“She’s truly remarkable, isn’t she?” one elderly countess says, her voice carrying across the marble floors and gleaming ceilings. “Always so graceful, so kind. I am quite glad she is Duchess Price, now.”

John stands near the refreshments table with Simon, and overhears the conversation. His hand tightens slightly around his glass, though his face betrays nothing. Nothing new to be talked about, it was natural. And yet-

“Graceful?” a younger lady chimes in, voice calm and polite. “She’s more than that. Did you hear she personally visited the orphanage last week? Brought food and clothing, spoke to every child. And not for show- she refused to let any journalists near. That’s a true duchess.”

Simon’s brows furrows slightly, his jaw tightening. He exchanges a glance with John, the unspoken thought between them clear: she hadn’t told either of them about that visit. It wasn’t because John didn’t trust you, or that you need his permission; he just wanted to be aware of where you go and which guards you’ll take. For your own safety.

“She’s so approachable too,” a lord adds, gesturing with his wine glass. John knows this lord, he always ends up drinking too much and being too handsy. Why would you need to speak to him? “I spoke to her briefly earlier- she didn’t just listen, she cared. You can see it in her eyes. It’s no wonder the people adore her.”

Adore is putting it way too lightly.

From the other side of the room, Kyle watches as a small group of maids gossip near the staircase. He wasn’t one for eavesdropping, but their excitement is hard to ignore.

“I heard she gave her own jewelry to the head maid’s daughter to help her pay for her dowry.” One of them whispers, clutching her tray.

“That’s not all,” another group are speaking, talking about her as well. “The market vendors say she always pays more than is needed, even when they insist she doesn’t do. Such a lovely woman.”

“Wish the other nobles were like her,” the first maid says with a wistful sigh. “She’s the only one who treats us like people.”

Kyle’s lips press into a thin line as he adjusts his gloves. He prides himself on protecting you, but hearing how far your kindness extends fills him with a quiet sense of urgency. What if someone takes advantage of you and your tender heart?

It’s not just in the main hall that these words are said; down in the kitchens, Johnny is busy ensuring there’s enough food with the rest of the chefs. But still, he can hear two others talking while they work, trying not to sound too snappy or angry while he listens in on them.

As the night continues, the men find themselves more and more aware of how often your name arises in conversation. They hear nobles discussing your fashion choices (Simon secretly preens), others whispering about your visits to the poorer parts of town and the funds that have been allocated into revitalizing the areas, and even rival duchesses grudgingly admitting that you’ve set quite the high standard.

“I heard she stopped Lord Clinton from evicting his tenants,” one man says near the dance floor, though not quite close enough to be drawn into the dancing bodies. He is within John and Simon’s earshots.

“Not only that,” someone else “whispers”. “She made sure they had food and shelter through the winter. commoners love her, and she truly embodies what it means to be a noble. A true people’s princess, I say.”

John’s gaze flickers toward you, standing across the room and laughing softly with a group of nobles. You’re glowing tonight, the light catching in your hair and your smile as warm as ever, adorned in a beautiful dress.

“They don’t deserve her,” Kyle mutters, sidling up to him while holding a plate of finger foods.

John doesn’t respond, but his grip on his glass tightens again. It’s a wonder the glass hasn’t broken et.

Simon’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “The people see her as theirs.” He pauses, his gaze hardening. “But she’s ours first.”

“I cannot blame them.” John sighs. “She is the perfect duchess. But she is also my duchess, and they seem to have forgotten that.”

John means his words, and he knows his men agree with him. The world may love you, but they know the truth: no one else can have you- not the people, not the nobles, no one but them.

The ballroom continues to buzz with conversation, and John focuses back on the two men near the edge of the dance floor.

“She’s wasted on a duchy,” one of them says, swirling his wine with a smirk, more than just a little drunk. “With her charm, she could outshine the Queen herself.”

“Not just charm,” the other adds in, just as drunk. “But Influence.”

Simon stiffens, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Influence” isn’t something he takes lightly when it comes to you. It’s a dangerous thing in the wrong hands- or with the wrong admirers.

“Careful,” John mutters to him. “They’re complimenting her, not threatening her.”

Simon’s glare softens ever so slightly. “Yet.”

Johnny slowly makes his way towards a hidden corner of the ballroom, gnawing on his lips as he listens to the whispers of you.

Did you see the way she stopped to speak with the gardeners?” one of them asks. “She even complimented the hedges I trimmed last week!”

Johnny’s grin fades, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He enjoys seeing people appreciate you, but this feels different. They speak of you with reverence, as if you’re some untouchable figure. But Johnny knows better. You’re no untouchable goddess- you’re his. Theirs. That’s what matters most.

It’s when you step onto the dance floor that the tension truly rises. A duke- one who’s been eyeing you all evening- approaches you with a bow, extending his hand for a dance. You hesitate, glancing toward John out of instinct. He doesn’t move, but his eyes darken, his jaw clenched as he watches you take the duke’s hand.

The music swells and you move across the floor, laughter bubbles from your lips at something your dance partner says. The men see it for what it is: polite, nothing more. But it doesn’t stop the knot of irritation tightening even further.

“She’s a vision,” someone murmurs nearby, unaware they’re being overheard.

“Who wouldn’t fall for her?” another replies.

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

Kyle’s gaze sharpens. Johnny’s grin vanishes completely. Simon’s fists clench at his sides. And John, ever composed, finishes his wine in one long swallow, his eyes never leaving you.

He can’t allow this to go on for any longer.

The dance ends, and as you return to the edge of the ballroom, you’re immediately surrounded by more admirers- ladies complimenting your gown, lords vying for your attention. Or would have been, if John hadn’t started making his way towards you, presence larger than life.

“Your Grace,” he says smoothly, and extends his hand to you, his expression unreadable. “Dance with me.”

The request- or rather, the command- is met with stunned silence. The nobles exchange glances, but a single glance from John keeps them all silent.

You blink up at him, momentarily caught off guard, before placing your hand in his. “Of course.” you murmur softly.

John’s grip is firm but gentle as he leads you to the dance floor, his other hand resting lightly at your waist. The orchestra begins a soft waltz, and he pulls you into the first step, his movements confident and assured.

Around you, the crowd watches, whispers starting anew, though you barely notice. All you can focus on is the intensity in John’s eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’ve been busy tonight.” he says after a moment, his voice low enough that only you can hear. It sends a shiver up your spine- his voice always so nice to hear.

“It’s my role,” you reply, offering him a small smile. “Everyone has been so kind.”

He hums, his eyes flicking briefly to the onlookers before returning to you. “Too kind, perhaps.”

You raise an eyebrow at his tone but say nothing, letting him guide you across the floor. His hand tightens slightly at your waist, and he pulls you even more closer.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now. “Better than I expected, if I’m honest. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. You always seem to surprise me, my dear.”

Your cheeks warm at the unexpected praise, and you smile up at him. “Thank you, John. That means a great deal.”

He leans in just slightly, his breath ghosting over your ear. “The way they look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower. “They can’t take their eyes off you. And I don’t blame them.”

You glance up at him, startled, but his expression is unreadable once again. He continues to lead you effortlessly through the dance, his movements precise.

“But,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours, “they’ll have to remember who you belong to.”

Your heart skips at his words, and for a moment, you forget where you are, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His eyes soften, his grip steady as he twirls you into the final steps of the dance.

As the music fades, he leans in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re exquisite tonight, wife. Don’t let them forget it.”

With that, he leads you off the dance floor, his hand never leaving yours. The crowd parts for the both of you, their gazes following you both as John guides you back to the edge of the room, where the others wait.

You’re still breathless, his words replaying in your mind as he steps aside, positioning himself at your shoulder. Whatever protests the nobles might’ve had about your absence dissolve under his watchful glare.

And though John doesn’t say another word for the rest of the evening, his presence alone is enough to ensure no one dares to crowd you again, and no one comes between you and them. Simon and Kyle keep you busy, chatting happily with them, and Johnny joins later when the guests begin to trickle out and no one would question why a chef is there.

People’s princess you maybe, you are still theirs. John simply had to show and remind everyone of that fact.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

From the moment you were ten, you had sought their attention like a moth drawn to a flame. But the flame was always too hot, always too far away, and with every desperate attempt to get close, they burned you. You had been a shadow in their world, hovering at the edges of their lives, wanting, needing. Needing. That word, so simple, yet it had been the curse of your existence. You needed them. You needed their time, their care, their love. But they never saw you, never acknowledged the pit of loneliness that gnawed at you every time you begged to be included.

They had brushed you aside, every single time.

The family, your family, was never really yours.

It started when you were just a kid. “Not now, kid,” they would say. Or “Go play somewhere else.” Every time you tried to insert yourself into their lives, they shoved you away, like a toy they’d grown tired of. They didn’t need you. Not when there were bigger things at stake. Not when Gotham was drowning in its own darkness, when the Batcave was filled with the hum of machinery and the rush of adrenaline.

You were just a distraction.

You were nothing.

The words didn’t change as you grew older. They only got sharper.

When you were twelve, you tried again—this time with more subtlety. You offered to help, to be something, anything that would make them notice you. I can be useful, I promise. But no. No, they couldn’t have you tagging along. Not when there were more important things to do, more important people to be with. You were only a child.

By the time you turned fifteen, the bitter reality had set in. You weren’t wanted. You weren’t needed. They were a family—their family—and you? You were the outcast, the inconvenience they only tolerated because they had no choice. They didn’t want you, but they had to keep you around. The occasional glance from Tim, a brief acknowledgment from Dick—enough to keep the illusion of familial love alive, but never enough to make you feel like you mattered.

It wasn’t just Bruce anymore. He had become an empty figure in your life, a distant authority figure who only spoke when there was something to be done. Do this. Do that. Don’t ask questions. That was how you learned to live under his roof—like a shadow. Like a nothing.

There were moments when you thought you might be able to break through. When you thought maybe—just maybe—they would see you for who you were, someone who could stand beside them, shoulder to shoulder, not as a burden but as a part of the family.

But those moments were fleeting. They were crumbs, pieces of hope that you clung to like a starving animal, only for them to be yanked away, leaving you empty once again.

By the time you turned sixteen, you no longer asked. No longer begged. You had learned that your needs were nothing but noise to them. So, you stayed quiet, retreating into the corners of their lives. You were there, but invisible. A ghost that haunted the edges of their family but was never invited to sit at the table.

But it wasn’t just the coldness that broke you. No. It was the sharpness of their words.

The day it all ended—the day your last shred of hope died—had come like a storm.

You were seventeen when you finally broke. You had asked, yet again, for something so simple. You wanted to hang out, to spend the evening together, just for once. No work. No patrols. Just them. Just family. But Dick—always so perfect, so composed—snapped.

“Stop nagging, goddammit!” His voice was low, but the venom was there. The venom that cut deeper than any blade. “I don’t have time for this. You’re not a kid anymore. You should know better.”

And it was in that moment, when the words hit you like fists to your chest, that you knew. It was over. They will never care about you.

No more pleading. No more silence. You were done.

You wanted to scream, to break down and tell him how it felt to always be ignored, to always be pushed aside. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was stare at him, the person you had once looked up to, the brother who had made you feel like you belonged. And now? Now he hated you. He resented you. You were just a thorn in his side, something he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

The Batfamily didn’t need you. They didn’t even want you. You were just a memory in the background of their perfect little world.

And so, you left.

You packed your things and left Gotham without a second thought. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care about them. You didn’t care about the lies you had told yourself for years, that someday they would come to love you. No. You were done.

You found a small apartment in a city far, far away. The rent was cheap. The food was okay. It didn’t matter. For the first time in years, you felt a strange kind of peace. No more begging. No more hoping for something that was never going to come.

But the peace didn’t last long. It never does.

Months passed, and the Batfamily went on without you. It wasn’t like you expected them to notice, but they did. They always did.

It started slowly at first. A message from Bruce, terse and businesslike, asking how you were. A phone call from Dick, his voice hesitant, full of uncertainty. Tim sent an email—just a few lines, but still. He’d written “We miss you.”

You didn’t respond. The first few days, you let it sit there, those words ringing in your ears. We miss you. The words came so easily now, but where had they been all those years? You stared at the screen, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. Miss you? They had pushed you aside when you needed them most. They had ignored you, told you to shut up, told you to go away.

Now they missed you?

You threw your phone across the room and sat down, gripping your hair, letting the quiet take you over.

It wasn’t until the second month that they started to call. At first, it was Tim—his voice softer than it had been in years, like a penitent ghost, when he called you.

“Please… just talk to us. We’re… we’re worried about you.”

You didn’t pick up.

Then, Dick. His voice cracked when he asked if you were okay. Just talk to us. How many times had you told them that? How many times had you begged? And now, they were begging you? You felt the rage swell inside you, the bitterness of those years threatening to break you apart.

And that was when they came.

It wasn’t just a phone call. It wasn’t just messages anymore. They came looking for you.

Nightwing was the first. He showed up at your door, standing there in his familiar suit, but his smile was tight, his eyes uncertain.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “We just want to talk.”

You stared at him, the same person who had once smiled at you like you meant the world to him. And now? Now he looked like a stranger. Someone who didn’t know who you were. And maybe, in a way, he didn’t.

“Why?” you asked, your voice rough from months of silence. “Why now? Where were you when I needed you?”

The guilt in his eyes only deepened. “We were wrong,” he said, the words fragile, like he was afraid they would break if spoken too loudly. “We… we miss you.”

The anger rose in your chest. They missed you?

The words sounded so hollow. What good was their love now?

They all came. One by one, each member of the family arrived at your door, apologizing, begging for forgiveness, for your attention, your love.

But it was too late.

They had pushed you away for too long, and now you could feel it: the suffocating weight of their regret, the twisting hunger of their need.

They needed you. They needed you so badly. They would never let you go again.

It wasn’t just about family anymore. It wasn’t just about reconciliation. Now, it was about possession.

And the family would do whatever it took to keep you close—no matter the cost.

Gotham had never felt farther away, yet the shadows of the family loomed larger than ever.

You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back, to reopen that door. But deep down, you knew one thing.

They would never let you leave again.

And now?

Now, they were willing to do anything to make sure of it.

(A/n: no part 2 becuz it's a one shot 😸)

[weekendafternoon]

One: I can totally understand OPs struggle with remembering to buy one specific thing and then remembering that one has in fact already bought that thing. Only after many years have I been able to train myself into the habit of writing down anything I need to buy in a grocery list in my phones notes app, in which I can cross off anything I bought, as I too am afflicted by ADHD. Good luck to OP! 🎋

Two: All those can openers you huys have there look very nice, I unfortunately have a few problems with those.

- the big electric ones: too big, no space in the kitchen, nor anywhere else, also what do I do if the power goes out?

- the door/wall mounted one: I do not have a pantry, same size and space problem

- the usual plastic ones at which you have to turn the handle: it takes about half a year until the plastic handle turns but the rest does nothing, also not good for my wrist

BUT! I saw one a year ago at my workplace! It was old, it was basic, but it worked like a dream. I searched for a similar one on the 'net and found and bought one and I love it!

This is it.

How it works is that you slap the little blade into the top part of the can, fairly close to the rim, and then with the little teeth you kind of 'walk' around the rim of the can thereby dragging the blade behind and cutting it open.

(pls excuse the long explanation, when I first saw it I was kind of dense and did not understand it so maybe it also helps someone else)

Until now it has not hurt my wrist, does not need electricity, is not much bigger than a normal fork and will hopefully last decades!

Hope this is interesting to you guys!

"I don't need a shopping list; with effort, I will remember that I need this item"

Okay but will you be able to remember that you already bought it? Because apparently I can't.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I had this cute idea and I wanted to write it down, hope you like it!❤

Endless Affection

The sound of the door opening always makes my heart skip a beat. It’s like the whole world pauses, waiting for him to walk in. I barely hear the shuffle of his boots before I’m already moving, practically bouncing as I rush toward the entryway.

“James!” I call out, grinning as his familiar figure comes into view. He’s still halfway through shrugging off his bag when he looks up, his face lighting up as soon as he sees me.

“Babe,” he says softly, his voice carrying that warmth I’ve missed all day. Before he can say anything else, I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. He chuckles, his arms closing around me instantly.

“Miss me much?” he teases, his voice muffled against my hair.

“You know I did,” I mumble, hugging him tighter.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hazel eyes full of that familiar sparkle. “You know,” he says, his lips twitching into a smile, “this? Right here? This is the best part of my day.”

“Is it now?” I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice soft but firm. He suddenly steps back, spreading his arms wide. “Come on, Babe. Want another hug?”

I laugh, rolling my eyes, but before I can respond, he swoops in and picks me up, spinning me around like we’re in the middle of some romantic movie. “James!” I squeal, clinging to him even though I can’t stop laughing.

When he sets me down, his grin is boyish and proud. “See? Can’t beat that,” he says, leaning in to press a quick, playful kiss to my nose.

I shake my head, smiling like a fool. It’s always like this when he comes home—full of warmth and these little rituals that make me feel like the luckiest person in the world.

As he gets ready to head back out for work, I find myself following him like always, lingering at his side. He’s tugging his coat on, and I can’t resist stepping in to help. I smooth the fabric over his shoulders, fixing the collar with the precision of someone who has done this a hundred times.

“There,” I say, tilting my head as I give him a quick once-over “Perfect.”

“Thanks, Babe,” he says, his lips quivering into a soft smile. But I’m not done. I lean up on my toes, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek before pulling back just enough to reach for his hair. My fingers ruffle it lightly, and I can’t help but giggle at the way he scrunches his nose.

“Hey!” he protests, his voice full of mock indignation. “Not the hair!”

I shrug, grinning mischievously. “Oh, come on. You love it when I do it.”

He tries to hold back a smile but fails miserably, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Maybe,” he admits, his hazel eyes twinkling. “But don’t push your luck.”

He rolls his eyes playfully but doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Have a nice day at work,” I whisper, my voice soft but full of meaning.

“Thanks, Babe.” His voice is just as gentle, and I feel a little ache in my chest watching him grab his bag and step out the door. The sound of it clicking shut behind him leaves the house feeling too quiet.

But, like always, I can’t help myself. Before I know it, I’m slipping on my slippers and stepping outside. He’s already halfway to his car when he turns back, his eyes finding mine almost instantly.

When he sees me, he stops in his tracks, his lips curving into that heart-melting smile of his. “Babe,” he calls out, shaking his head fondly.

“What?” I ask, grinning as I step closer.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he jogs back to me, his steps quick and purposeful. Before I can say anything else, he’s cupping my face in his hands and kissing me like he’s been waiting all day for it.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against mine. “You don’t have to wait for me like this, you know,” he says softly, his voice full of that teasing affection he does so well.

“I know,” I say, blushing a little. “But I want to. I like seeing you off.”

He stares at me for a moment, his hands sliding down to rest gently on my shoulders. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs. His words make my chest flutter, and I can’t help but smile.

I tilt my head, giving him a soft smile. “You’re so sweet.”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. “If I could, I’d stay here with you all the time. I wouldn’t leave—ever.” His voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes my chest flutter.

For a moment, I just stare at him, caught in the intensity of his words. Then a playful idea sparks in my mind. “Well,” I say, my smile turning sly, “how about tonight? We could stay in, cuddle up together... all night long.”

His face softens, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Babe, that’s a perfect idea,” he says, leaning in to press a tender kiss to my lips. “I can’t wait to cuddle you, and maybe… we can do something else” he adds with a playful wink.

“James!” I gasp, my face flushing bright red. “You—”

 I swat at his arms, but then, in mock exasperation, I add, “You’re unbelievable!”

He chuckles, holding up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I was just offering a suggestion!” he says, still laughing. “You know I can’t resist you.”

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms with a dramatic sigh. “You’re impossible,” I tease, my voice filled with mock frustration. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s always pushing things too far.”

James grins, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So you don’t want to cuddle me tonight, then?”

I pause, pretending to consider it for a moment, tapping my chin dramatically. “Hmm, well... maybe just a little cuddling. But only because you’re so irresistible.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. “Lucky for you, I’m always irresistible,” he whispers with a wink.

“Yeah, yeah,” I laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Keep telling yourself that.” I shake my head, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably as I feel my cheeks warm from the playful teasing.

James pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. “You know you love me,” he says, his voice playful but sincere.

“I do,” I admit, resting my head against his chest. “But don’t get too cocky, okay?”

“Oh, I can’t help it,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “You’re the one who loves me this much.”

I roll my eyes again, though it’s hard to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re lucky I do, James.

He steals one more kiss before pulling away, and this time, I’m the one giving him a little push toward his car. “Now go,” I laugh. “You’re going to be late!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. But as he walks away, he throws me one last glance over his shoulder.

With a cheeky grin, he pretends to blow me a kiss.

 And don’t forget,” he says, blowing me a kiss. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

I catch the kiss with both hands and blow it right back to him. “Hurry up, or you’ll  be late” I tease, though my heart is already counting down the hours until he’s back home.

He laughs too, shaking his head as he finally climbs into the car. As he pulls away, I watch until his car disappears down the road, my heart feeling full and light all at once.

I already can’t wait for tonight.

[poppadom0912]

Congrats on 1k!

🍨 Taste -Sabrina Carpenter

With Adam Ruzek or Kelly Severide please!!

A/N: I chose Adam, hope you don't mind. I also mean no hate to him at all, he just made this most sense. Thank you so much for ordering. I've written this after one of the most tiring weeks of my life so I hope this is up to standards. Enjoy!!

🍨🍨🍨🍨🍨

i heard your back together and if that's true

It had been two months since your break up and you'd been dealing with it better than you had been expecting. You weren't crying constantly and your moping lasted no longer than two weeks.

But just because you were fully healed and over your ex boyfriend didn't mean that you didn't feel some sort of way when you found out he had already moved on with someone else.

And this just wasn't any someone, it was his ex girlfriend, the one he was dating before you, the one he told you to never worry about.

You could only scoff when you saw them together at your local café, your sister holding back her laughter when she caught them first.

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you

There was a sick little part of you that had you thinking that, maybe this new relationship was exactly the revenge you needed on him.

You two had been together for nearly three years, being together for such a long period of time that everyone thought a proposal was imminent.

You had done so much together, had accomplished so many milestones together. Without a doubt, you left a significant mark on him and his life that he could never erase.

And you couldn't help but think that maybe you still impacted his life because certain habits of his were clearly influenced by you.

When they were together out and about, they were doing the things you both used to do. There was no doubt that you were an unwilling third person in their relationship.

if you want forever, and i bet you do

He mentioned it briefly before when you first started dating that one of the reasons he broke it off was because she wanted to get married and he just wasn't ready for that yet.

It seems that even several years later, some things never changed.

And you knew exactly how she felt - to be so deeply in love with a single man that its impossible to ask you not to imagine the rest of your life together.

just know you'll taste me too

You couldn't help but smirk at the way Adam's eyes lingered on your table as they were leaving, his girl clearly noticing as her brows furrowed before huffing and dramatically pulling him into a passionate kiss.

His eyes fluttered closed but hers remained firmly on you.

You continued to smile, waving at her with your fingers before sipping your coffee, your sister now openly cackling.

Her response was to angrily stomp out, her hand clawing his bicep as she dragged him outside.

Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

You watched from afar as time passed, their relationship developing and blossoming but, your 'presence' weighed heavy.

Every time they kissed, whether it be a quick peck or a long make out session in 'private', she always came out unsatisfied, conflict written all over her face.

Your satisfaction only grew. After the break up, you were now thriving but the same couldn't be said for the two of them.

And every time you breathe his air just know I was already there

You couldn't help but think, indulgently, if there was still traces of you left behind. Luckily for you, the tells were very telling.

Adam still using your portable coffee mug, the Lego figure on his keys, the shirts you gifted him still in rotation and the list goes on.

They were living together at this point, and you had no doubt that wherever she went in his apartment, pieces of you were most likely still laying around, forever taunting her.

You can have him if you like. I've been there, done that once or twice

You couldn't understand her obsession.

At first, you somewhat got it. Even you were like that a little bit at the beginning of your relationship, contemplating on his ex due to your insecurities.

But now, this was slightly worrying. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from feeling a little bit of pride.

If you could confront her somehow, reassure her girl-to-girl that she could have him. You were happy for her to take him off your hands, then you would, one hundred percent, take up the opportunity.

But you enjoyed being one her mind 24/7. It made you feel ways that Adam never had in all the three years you two were together.

You had been with him for more than long enough and life now was better than ever. If she wanted him that badly, then she could have him, no words needed.

And singin' 'bout it don't mean I care. Yeah, I know I've been known to share

One year after Adam and his new girl getting together, you sat in Molly's with someone new too.

It had only been two months, this was all fairly new but you had some hope that this could be good. You were excited about what your future together could look like, the butterflies in your stomach being very much missed.

Mumbling a quick thanks under your breath, you pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek, your giddy smile hidden by the glass rim as he looked at you in amusement but a soft look in his eyes and the warmest smile.

You could feel both pairs of eyes trained onto you as he sat down next to you, his arm going around the back of your chair, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder.

"Everything okay?" He asked, noticing you zoning out slightly.

You hummed, softly smiling up at who you hoped would be your boyfriend.

"Yes." You nodded, this man being the only important person as the other two faded into the background. "Everything's perfect."

Jay smiled, pressing a longing kiss on your temple, making you feel all warm and gooey on the inside before resuming his conversation with his brother.

Sipping your wine, all you could feel was the tingling Jay left behind on your lips. All you could taste was him.

[cottoncandybitchfuck]

Burrows End

“It’s interesting to watch someone go from wanting to survive, to wanting to live” -Teedles

“It’s better to go together than to go alone” -Viola

"Gentle parenting is an aspiration but sometimes you have to tell these kids to get out of this fucking bear"-Brennan Lee Mulligan 

"We prepare for the worst that could happen, and the worst has happened and you’re still alive."-Viola

"The truth is that the blue, the monsters, the dust in the air, all that, the real reason that grown-ups talk about this like they have a big secret is because we're scared too. Because as much as you think we know everything, the biggest secret of all is we mostly don’t. And that’s what we hide from you. The thing we hide from the kids isn’t that we know everything it’s that we don’t know everything. Cause we don’t want you to be scared." -Tula

“I can’t put any more effort into being a daughter”- Tula

“You can’t guarantee safety. You can’t guarantee that you get to hold onto everyone forever. What you do get to choose is who you love.” -Tula 

“This isn’t just corruption it’s power. But is there a good type of power?”-Viola

“I’ve seen very powerful people collect power, and I’ve seen un-powerful people do what they can to get by, and I think the things they both have in common is none of them ever seem to have any choice about what happens next. I wouldn’t spend life chasing power. It’s hard enough just to chase happiness” -Tula

“Funerals are so often not for the dead, but for the people they leave behind.”-Aabria Iyengar

“How can you not look back when something sees you?” -Aabria

“If we’re in the dark we know nothing, and if we know nothing, we’re not safe.” -Thorn

“I think the truth is, the monsters were always going to be coming back.” -Sybil

“What are a bunch of monsters to all of us and everything we can do?” -Sybil

“Whatever we have discovered, these monsters were clever enough to make, and they do know it better than us. No matter how much we are obsessed with it, confident that we can harness it, the sky and the water. That’s the blue. That’s where we come from. For all we know, where it comes from is these monsters. So I don’t know where this confidence comes from, but if confidence could keep you alive, then Geoffery would still be here.”-Tula

“There’s always something unknown and scary, monsters in the dark trying to get you, but when you find something in people that can help push that back, you hang onto that.” -Ava

“The radical change that can happen when you are kind in the face of doom can change the battlefield.” -Tula

“Look around us, there is nothing but death, and all I can see is people squabbling.” -Thorn

“If you want power so badly, you have it.” -Bennett

“I think that someone who kills other beings to absorb how they live is something that wants power more than any person I’ve ever seen.” -Viola

“We’ve spoken a lot about hope and a lot about survival, maybe there is something else that we can do that isn’t just pushing them back and hoping that  they don’t come back with a bigger and bigger thing and scarier truck and all these things that will end all of our lives.” -Thorn

“A little pro tip, don’t do a bunch of mass murder, without having a little plan first.” -Olliver

“It was unlucky that we lost dad, and it was lucky that we had you.” -Tula

“Well I don’t like thinking about luck because if things happen by chance , then that means I have no control over what happens to you two or your kids.” -Ava

“You can’t lead with your fists” -Viola

“Chaos is good from time to time, but so is order. There’s a balance. You have to be able to embrace change, but you also have to be able to know when there is structure needed.” -Tula

“Power exists. Power should make you sad and tired. Anyone who seems to like power is suspect.”-Tula

[psyduckz]

live another day for the simple things, to walk in a park, to share an orange with friends. it can always get better

[deus-and-the-machina]

ffxiv garlemald discourse is so funny because people will go "ugh people just cant stand it when things aren't black and white" and then you look at how the empire are portrayed in stormblood and shadowbringers and its like hm. that seems like a pretty intense and accurate display of violent imperialism to me! Wow I wonder why people in this day and age may find it hard to feel sympathy for them or even hate them on principal. god its such a mystery.

the games like 50/50 to me on how it tackles these themes because I actually like the garlemald arc in EW, I think it has a lot of horrific and powerful scenes depicting how self destructive fascist propaganda and beliefs are, but I also think it doesn't go far enough on some fronts. the garleans' xenophobia is most notably and obstacle to getting them to accept the contingent's help, which is what they're there to do,

but there's never an admission of harm from any garleans on the uuuuuuuuh massive amount of war crimes the nations around them are still suffering from they're just kind of like "we misjudged you...but you actually wanted to help us all along" like yeah thats great now can we get you all some deprogramming because you keep talking about returning to your prime and glory days and I think we need to unpack some stuff you really SHOULDNT return to. im not even really talking about EW proper but the patches where things are a bit more chilled out and people are recovering.

It feels like they wanted to have their critique of imperialism and also have things end with the beauty of human connection and reaching out and these things just don't mesh well because hey a lot of your modern day audience is not gonna like having to treat people yelling xenophobic things at the cast and your character with kid gloves after you showed them hours and hours of the awful things these people's beliefs have done. especially in the present day hoo boy.

[alchemiclee]

been looking in tags for a few days now to see if anyone else found the whole high cloud quintet and related story to be a bit.....poorly written, nonsensical, contradictory, full of plot holes and loose ends, etc. apparently i'm not the only one. (and i'm not even talking about shipping stuff, because any time I saw someone mad about bad writing, someone always replies to be homophobic and laugh about failed ships. weirdos.) it could have been so good but was thrown into the garbage for the most part (IF you noticed all the plot holes and contradiction. if not, then it's a fine enough story tbh. I expect most people to see it on surface level and not read all the little hidden lore bits and try to piece it together like my autistic brain did. which is ok! enjoy it if you liked it and ignore me 😆)

[minhmynchi]

its 4 am and well, im not doomscrolling but i have thoughts lol... i should turn them off and go back to sleep

[the-physicality]

i do think, aside from mercury bias, if bg had been in all season she would have been all wnba, first or at least second. i think people undervalue her because of the rebounding but she is 1000% the worst officiated player in the league, on both sides of the court. so the fact that she's been able to have the performance that she had is incredible, and that she didn't get the acknowledgment really just underscores how much people take what she does for granted.

[muskpunk]

when eating doesn't make brain stop being Bad: uh oh

[safyresky]

Ok, this is gonna sound dumb, but how does one get motivation to write? Like, I have characters, scenes, etc planned out in my head, but I'm always stuck on how to start out. I was wondering if you had any tips on going about that? Do you have endings planned out first in mind, or just go with the flow? Any charts made, etc?

Oh no, not dumb at all! A very good question actually. Starting something is the hardest part, imo :). I think it's the question I see most people ask fellow writers.

Starting is hard! I totally understand. It took me YEARS before I finally posted, and that was because Rise of the Guardians was coming out and after watching the trailer I went "ah shit, people are gonna think I ripped Jacqueline off of Chris Pine Jack Frost. That's no bueno, better get this mofo OUT!" I am a notorious procrastinator and the thought of negative feedback actually renders me useless, so I needed a bit of a kick in the butt there 💀💀💀

I think it depends on the person, really. Everyone has a different thing that works for them! Some plan, some just go FUCK IT, WE BALL, and do just that! Here's my kind of. Idk if I'd CALL IT a system? Or a process? But here's what I do, and maybe it'll help you find what works for you?

So I don't really have the end planned right away. I don't usually have ANYTHING planned lol. Generally, most of the things I write start with a hazy concept or idea. For example:

Crystal Springs: What if Jack went through the same thing Zuko did in Book 3, since he thawed? What if someone had to reteach him how to find what powers his powers? Who would they be? How would that work? (this then proceeded to spiral out of control into CS as we know it today).

Frostmas: If Jack was Santa, who was Jack Frost? How did we get from the usual business to a THEME PARK?!?!

Sometimes they're srs like that, other times they're downright silly:

Frog Warning: Haha, I misspelled fog when telling the hubbers about the weather. That's some Crystal Springs ass shit. Jacqueline and Charlie are just minding their business when a frog comes bouncing down the street, the weather is FROG WARNING--oh. Oh, this could be fun!

Actually starting is the hard part, but here's my lil secret: I usually don't start things in order! If I have an idea, I'll go ahead and write it down--whether it be in hazy notes, or actually writing a rough kind of draft, I just get it down and go from there! It works for me for the most part, and then I usually go with the flow from there. Where does this scene fit? What happens before it?

This usually leads to the mess that is my onenote notebook for Crystal Springs, lol. Each story has a tab, and each page is usually a chapter, and I just launch into notes there and go absolutely crazy. Completely HAM. I don't worry about proper grammar or spelling, I just write what I think happens, and brainstorm from there! That's how I get gems like this:

Or like this (CS spoilers abound):

Where on the left is the outline, I suppose, of the work (Chapter 26 of CS I believe this is) and thoughts I have after reading them back go beside the section I thought them about!

Then after that, the actual writing part becomes a LOT easier: I have a sort of outline, and can just refer to it as I make it less messy notes, more actual story chapter. And then, a couple read throughs later, maybe some scene rewrites, and voila! I've got me a story >:)

Starting is hard. SO hard. You're so right, Anon! And before I get too ramble-y, here's my "advice", if you will (aka a tl;dr)

Everyone has something different that works for them, because everyone's writing styles are different. Here's what works for me:

Start wherever. Not at the beginning, not at the end. If a particular scene/part is on my mind, I get it down right away! You don't need to start at the beginning! :)

Get those ideas down! Write out the scene, the character, the idea, the plot point. Doesn't matter how: could be notes, could be writing the entire scene, could be a shitty doodle, just get it written down. Make it real! Put it on a page somewhere!

GET EXCITED ABOUT IT! Be your main cheerleader! give yourself the Fandom treatment and theorize about what happens next, what happens where, etc. And write anything that makes you go OH YO THAT'S GOOD down!

If something else crops up, don't be like "oh man, I gotta finish this scene, though, I can't jump into another thing". Jump into the other thing. Just write it down! Who knows? It may become part of your final story (this has happened to me often enough that I've lost count).

Once I've gotten the burning ideas down, it tends to grow from there. Sometimes going with the flow works very well (and it does for me, for the most part).

After that, I sort the ideas, place them where I picture them (beginning, middle, end), and write notes leading up to the scenes I've already got.

The notes then make it super easy to write the rest of the story, and suddenly I've got a 16k chapter and 20 more ideas to fill the other portions of the story!

So, yeah! Long post, sorry for your dashes, I can stick a readmore somewhere in here if everyone wants, but there's my process. The takeaway?

JUST WRITE! WHATEVER IDEA YOU HAVE, WHETHER IT'S BEGINNING, MIDDLE, OR END, WRITE IT DOWN! :D

Once you've got something, it's a lot easier to start. And when you just go with the flow, and write what you have in mind, it becomes fun, and worrying about starting? Not a problem anymore because holy shit am I having fun, and wow! I've got so much to go off of now! (Also I hate deadlines and self imposed goals, they only make me feel pressure and then the writing isn't fun anymore, it feels like a chore, or a project, or an essay, or a work task. I'm going to be a terrible profesh writer one of these days)

ANYWAY I have no idea if this is what you were looking for, or if this helps at ALL. I hope it does a little bit! I'd strongly encourage you to write the concepts you have in your head right now, and don't worry about putting it all together just yet. Go with the flow, have fun with it, and see where it takes you! :)

And, uh, if any of my other writer friends have any tips and tricks, @lmelodie and @kscribbs and @shittyelfwriter (if u take a breather from kingdoming those tears lol), feel free to add! :)

[caffeinatedopossum]

Not triggering just personal

I really need to vent about being asexual and sex repulsed but I feel like no one will understand and I get how a lot of the things I think will sound but I really just need to for once get these thoughts off my chest without having them being morally appraised because they *aren't* my morals, they're just things I can't change.

And I don't want people to TRY to change it either! Or to try to figure what ~hOrRiBle trAuMas~ could have possibly made me "this way". It's not that I think there's nothing wrong with me, it's just that this thing needs to stay neutral to me if I ever expect to actually understand it. I want people to stop morally appraising and physcoanalyzing my sexuality through the lense of inherent trauma!!

I just want to talk about this without feeling like I need to put a disclaimer before every sentence, explaining why I feel the way that I feel. I don't know ok! I don't know why I feel the way that I feel sometimes. I'm just doing my best and I wish more people would understand that. Maybe you don't get an explanation because this is my identity and doesn't need to be justified. I just want to understand myself.

[elegyofthemoon]

In the cool, plush core of the moon sleeps a mouse as we speak, dreaming of a world lush and green, then golden and undulating, then chopping and churning, a world of many surfaces with skies of many moods.

When it awakes, it will poke its tiny head out of a crater and bask in your glow as it does every morning. Here, all is still and silent. On that sparkling planet in the deep black distance, the sun seems capricious. But the mouse lives in the abyss of the body and therefore with a unique perspective on its essence. The mouse sees what other life does not see.

One needn't worry about unbecoming for the sake of containing a sun. Clouds may blanket the atmosphere of a planet, but still there burns a sun. The spots on the sun's surface may grow and shrink and shift, but still there it burns. And if one decides to cool it down like a waning flame or expand it in a cataclysmic supernova, still there it burns, and one has the right to revoke the state of their existence and become new.

Because perhaps the truth is you are not the sun--not alone--but it is rather a part of you. Your body is the solar system, each planet a world within the body, and each knows this glow in different ways. Some are nurtured by its warmth, others by its distance. Regardless of the sun's changes, they stay the course encircling it.

The universe cannot be held back, harnessed, fully comprehended. It pulls at the seams of solar systems as it pulls on its own seams. In that unstoppable shifting, we stumble. Sometimes it feels like our love and light slips from our fingers, shattering irrevocably in our falls. But what makes us cannot be seperated from us, even in times where our essence is obscured.

There is always another life to appreciate your life, no matter what happens. And in the least, there is always a little mouse in you that understands you in telescopic clarity and offers forgiveness for every change--no matter what, right into the end of time.

❤

[zemnarihah]

ooooo just got to tell this HUGE asshole at work that he was wrong i am going to be riding this high for a week