#sometimes i get how my mum feels when she gets a new phone

[write-like-wright]

idk what a boop even is but consider yourselves booped back

also you may get it from my main idk what tumblr is doing this is a sideblog

[novemberheart]

{overview} Just because your pack is back together doesn’t mean things are back to normal

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly141, cursing, mentions of being scared, smoking, short chapter

Chapter 30 <- Chapter 31 -> Chapter 32

“Hi, Ms. Garrick,” you greeted. You heard her chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“Well hello, lovely,” she greeted back. You smiled at the similarities between their pet names for you. She had gotten your number from John after Kyles accident. She called you leaving the kindest message in your inbox.

Hello, Sweetheart. Now you don't know me, but my name is Rosalind Garrick, Kyle’s mother. But don't think that just because you don't know me, I know nothing about you. You’re all Kyle talks about anymore and I’m just so happy he's finally able to get some peace amongst his chaos. I know how hard this all must be for you so if you ever need anyone to talk to please reach out to me. As far as I'm concerned you’re a part of our pack and we want to make sure you are taken care of.

Alright, sweetheart. Talk to you soon.

Since then you've called her every few days, mostly to give her updates about Kyle.

“How’s our beta doing?” she asked.

“He’s been doing good. Started to get up and walk with crutches. He's stubborn and restless,” you grumbled. As if on cue, the beta trudged out of his room, heading towards the kitchen.

“That’s the man I know,” she chuckled.

“Hey, mum,” Kyle greeted from the kitchen. You bounded over, hoisting yourself up onto the counter.

“The next time you all go on leave I want you to come home,” She pressed. You grinned wickedly, agreeing before the words had even reached Kyle’s ears. “I’ve only met Johnny. Now it’s a crime I haven't met your alphas yet, and I'm not going to let you get away with me not meeting your omega. In-person,” she added.

“Sounds right to me,” you agreed. That's why she loved you.

“You’ll love the city. Did Kyle tell you about all the museums? I know you love those.”

Kyle did tell her about you.

“We can work that out,” Kyle agreed. He did want to go home, and he desperately wanted to share that part of himself with you. You and Ms. Garrick both squealed excitedly.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you asked. He stiffened immediately, his mind jumping to the worst.

Had he hurt you again?

Your hands smoothed over his shoulder, your bottom resting against his knee. His relax was instantaneous. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours.

“I was wondering if I could get a job?” you said slowly. It wasn't slow enough with the way the wheels in his mind were turning.

“Why? Something you need? It’s my job”-

“No, nothing like that. It’s more social than anything.” you interjected. “I’ll be with Anais and Jane. It’s at a new bakery a little off base. It's just a few hours on Fridays and the weekend,” you explained.

He wanted to shut it down. You were social enough. Before Kyle was hurt you had activities nearly every day. Sometimes it felt like you did more in a day than they did.

Yet the look in your eyes halted him. You had forgiven him- he could feel it. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you after just making up.

“Alright,” he agreed. You gasped softly, a wide grin spreading over your face. It made him happy despite the feeling of something wrong clawing at him.

“Thank you!” you cheered, your lips colliding with his cheek.

“One of us will take you to work the first week. Then you girls can commute together. And you are never to go off on your own, you understand?” he urged. You hummed against his cheek. “And I need to meet your boss- and anyone else who’s working there,” he added, between your attacks.

You were just about to head to your room, when a strong arm wrapped around your middle. You recognized a familiar tattoo.

“Tavy,” you giggled. He said nothing, heading to his room.

“Seems like you've forgotten it’s my night, bonbon,” he teased, tossing you on his bed. He crawled over you, making you flush.

“I could never forget,” you lied, blinking up at him. He smirked down at you, completely still for a moment before pressing rapid-fire kisses against your cheek.

You squealed as his hands tickled up and down your sides.

“Mac, no!” you gasped out. “I was just getting tired,” you whined against him. He paused, his smirk pressing against yours.

“Alright, peaches,” he agreed. He wrapped an arm tightly around you, purring softly as you buried your face in his chest. Cinnamon mixed with some of your vanilla lotion he had stolen.

“Simon comes home tomorrow,” you sighed happily. Johnny hummed, a pleased rumble leaving his throat. “I thought you and John would be gone longer,” you yawned.

“So did we,” he yawned back. He said nothing more on the topic, yet you didn't expect him to.

When you woke up you were no longer trapped between him and the bed, but him and another body. Leather with an undertone of black licorice. There was more smoke in his scent than you were used to. He must have been smoking a lot. A purr vibrated through you, making his chestnut eyes flutter open.

“What’re you purring about?” Simon groaned, pushing the two of you closer to Johnny. He was playing dumb. You could feel the curl of his lips against the back of your head.

“You’re back,” you said weakly, your throat hoarse with sleep.

“I’m back,” he affirmed. His hand found your stomach rubbing small circles in an attempt to lull you back to sleep. He wasn't ready to get up yet. He had just gotten home an hour ago and the last thing he wanted to do was pull himself away from the warmth of this bed. “Go back to sleep, pup,” he urged. You didn't need much more convincing, your eyes practically sewing themselves shut.

“Welcome home,” Johnny grumbled, with half-lidded eyes.

“Thanks, pup,” Simon mumbled, his fingers digging into the Scots side, pulling all of you closer once more. That wasn't usual for Simon, needing to have his pack this close, especially after a mission. Something must’ve happened.

“You alright?” Johnny drawled, unburying his face from your neck. Simon hummed in assurance.

“Fine, mutt,” he soothed. “Get some sleep,” he pressed, his fingers racking up and down Johnny’s lower back.

The next time Simon woke he had a fever. It was hot enough to make you and Johnny wake up in a sweat. Johnny quickly grabbed you, plopping you on the couch next to Kyle- assuming you may have triggered a rut for Simon like you had for John.

“What’s happening?” John groaned, uncurling himself from Kyle on the couch.

“Fever,” you responded. Kyle's hand pressed against your forehead. “Simon,” you clarified, moving to stand so you could peek into Johnny’s room. “I don't think it’s a rut Johnny,” you mumbled.

“I’m fine,” Simon groaned. He peeled off his sweatshirt, flopping back down against the mattress. His wide chest rose and fell irregularly. You approached your hand resting on his stomach. His body seemed to relax slightly, and you decided to take the chance and curl up against him. His heartbeat was fast- too fast.

“I’m calling a doctor,” John pressed, gently maneuvering Kyle off of him. Simon flipped the two of you over, making you gasp. Johnny flung forward his hand gripping the alpha’s shoulder.

“Not gonna do anything, pup,” he mumbled, his heart squeezing at the sound that escaped you. “Need to feel ya,” he mumbled, just low enough for you to hear. His hand crept under your shirt resting against the soft skin of your back.

He couldn't explain it. It started two weeks ago, a light burning sensation under his skin, and an almost sour feeling in his mouth. It felt like he was going through withdrawals. He was shaky, his heart skipping beats. He went through two packs of cigarettes in a day and still no relief. Wasn't till he met you at the hospital after Kyle’s accident did he start to put it together. Yet it only got worse being around you.

He growled against your neck, clenching his jaw so hard his teeth creaked.

“Doctor’ll be here in fifteen,” John spoke, his shoulder taking up the doorway. “How long have you felt this way?” John pressed.

“Couple weeks,” he growled. A pang shot through his skull, he steadied himself over you, taking a deep breath. It only made it worse, yet he couldn't pull himself away. Johnny leaned against the desk causing it to creak, the sound sending Simon on high alert. You whined at the snarl that left him. “Sorry,” he apologized instantly.

“Sweetheart, how about we wait on the couch till the doctor gets here?” John offered, beginning to move towards the two of you. He didn't like the way Simon was acting. The sound that came out of Simon was deadly, making it known he disagreed with Johns suggestion. John released a sound of his own.

You were scared.

It didn't help when Simon's hand reached behind him, grabbing at John's shirt.

“What the hell?” Johnny growled. Johnny sprung into action, his arms reaching under Simons pulling him to the floor.

“Get out!” John commanded. You didn't need to be told twice, throwing yourself off the bed, curling up behind Kyle. Kyle held you with both arms, not caring about the uncomfortable stretch of his shoulder.

“Up we go,” Kyle pressed, grabbing his crutch and leading you into your room. He locked the door behind the both of you, cradling you against him as you shook.

You could hear them.

Cursing. The sound of someone being slammed against the wall. Growling. Shouting. Things breaking.

The smell of angry alpha began to seep under the door.

“Kyle,” you whimpered. He shushed you softly, his lips pressed against your hairline.

It suddenly went quiet.

Hi friends! See you in three days for chapter 32! 🧡🙌🏻

[harrysfolklore]

buzzcut - blurb

this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.

"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.

"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."

"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."

Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.

Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.

Oh boy, were you wrong.

"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.

"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.

"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.

The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.

Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."

Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.

"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.

"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."

"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"

Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.

You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”

“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.

“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”

Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”

“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”

“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”

A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.

Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.

"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.

"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.

"Well, I guess the madness stars now."

A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

[ladymarycrawley]

Like father, like daughter - John Stones

Not requested but I've been woking on this piece for a while so there you go 💕 and dad! John is a weakness of mine so yeah (and it's quite long). Feel like dedicating this to queen herself @footballffbarbiex 🤍

Warning: pregnancy

Tag list: @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @chelsealover, @masonxomount, @kathb59 (cause she was eager to read it)

Pregnancy is seen in the collective consciousness as a blessed time, where a new life is growing inside of a woman’s body and everything seems good but most people only see the pleasurable side of it, ignoring all the cons these nine long months carry with them.

Of course there’s physical pain (back pain, swollen feet, morning sickness just to mention a few), that’s something concrete everybody can see. What’s more painful it’s the hidden part of this journey, the one that takes place in women’s head: embarking on such a massive change might be scary and sometimes fear overlaps with the joy of welcoming a new human being, overcoming it most of the time.

The most common worry is about not being ready enough to become a parent (as it’s the hardest job a person can do) followed by the difficulty of giving birth: how is it going to be? What will I do if something wrong happens? Will it be as painful as they make it seem in films? 

All of this has an impact on mental health and stability, as all these fears may take a toll on a person’s mind and rely on the most disparate stimuli to give life to the most random scenarios…

"John I'm so scared"

"Of what?"

"There's people who like pregnant women but not in a good sense…"

"In what sense?"

"Like they find them hot and have a fetish for them, that's scary"

That what can be defined as one of the random scenarios mentioned above: that afternoon you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone to stumble upon an article about the most unusual fetishes and you happened to read about people who had the pregnancy kink.

"So what?"

"That's gross and what if these people steal my pics and do vile things with them?"

Your head started spiralling in panic as your hormones and your unstable state of mind was totally controlling you. Too many thoughts in that overworking brain of yours culminated in desperate tears rolling down your face. 

"Your pics are safe and you look so sexy"

"I don't, this thing is insanely big and…and the other day you called me whale" You confessed to him as sobs were making you shake.

"Affectionately though, I'd never call you a whale to insult you…" He wrapped his arms around your waist "You're the sexiest, most beautiful whale ever" John whispered with a husky voice right into your neck

"You're fake, you're just mean"

"I'm not mean!"

The sobs were getting harder and your boyfriend knew the breakdown was getting serious.

"You'll leave me for some beautiful, hotter woman that'll give you no problems and you'll be cheating on me and I'll end up as a single mother and -"

"Hold on, hold on. Calm down and take a deep breath" John tried to calm you, stressing those encouraging words and trying to take deep breaths with you as to show you the priorities you should have considered. 

"You're overthinking"

"What if something goes wrong? What if the birth doesn't go as planned? What if our baby -"

"Calm down"

"I've read a lot of stories of mums that had horrible experiences while giving birth to their babies and what if one of us dies?"

John blurted out his eyes in shock as fear and worry covered his perfect face as well.

"Don't even think about it. We're following literally what the doctor told us, I'm sure they'll do whatever it's in their power for your safety"

Your baby kicked in that moment, as if your worry suddenly became her own and she felt the urge to calm you down, coming to the aid of her dad.

You gulped and brought your hand to your belly as John’s eyes never lost sight of you.

He’d never lost sight of you, not even when you went through labour and you were holding his hand so tightly while following the midwife’s instructions, trying to coordinate your pushes with the deep breaths she was asking you to take.

You were trying not to think about all the fears that piled up during those months but it was so hard when all the contractions trampled over you so violently. He stayed there even when you were squeezing his hand so hard your nails dug into his skin, almost piercing it. 

He was the antidote to all your nightmares: someone who stayed there with you, holding your hand through thick and thin.

John only left at nightfall and only after you insisted for him to go back home to sleep on a proper bed.

You were feeling like a done and dusted whale, all bloated and tired while he was there looking so fine, surely fresh out of the shower as the unmistakable scent of his aftershave tickled your nostrils.

The sight of him entering what had been your room for the last two days made your heart swell and the butterflies in your stomach soar.

The tiredness painted across your face as well as your swollen eyes made your freshly woken up expression evident and John couldn’t help but smile as your tired smile welcomed him.

"Hi"

"Good morning"

He closed the door behind him, approaching your bed and looking at the small crib where your tiny baby girl was sleeping.

"How are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Yep…slept a couple more hours"

"Good" He muttered while pressing his lips to your forehead.

"And how is she?"

Both your glances fell on the product of your love that was so small she could easily fit in one of John's large hands and looked so cute in her blush pink bodysuit, stretching her little legs as she was probably busy dreaming something. 

"She seems fine, we can't wait to go back home"

"I know…they said you would be good to go today"

"Yeah but they want to check in on us for a final check and then we can go"

"Okay" John was a bit disappointed he couldn't take his ladies with him and leave the hospital right away so he reluctantly nodded and got up to take you something to eat for breakfast. 

"I want a giant chocolate croissant"

"And a giant cappuccino as well?" He asked with a smirk, knowing full well your taste when it came to what to have for the most important meal of the day.

"You know me so well" You exclaimed, happy with those small things that weren't small at all in your eyes; they meant the world to you as him and your baby were now your whole world too.

John smiled, a blush pink tint colouring his cheeks and lowered himself over your seated figure, balancing himself on the mattress with his hands, his lips busy pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"See? Everything went well, you're both doing great" He whispered, referring to your fear of something potentially going wrong during the birth, your biggest fear.

You smiled back at him, watery eyes full of weariness and emotions looked up at him as you moved your head to the side to press a tender kiss to his hand that was soothingly caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much. Both of you”

“I love you more”

That sweet moment was interrupted by a nurse who knocked on your room’s door to check in on you and Iris, as it was time for the last visit before discharging you officially.

John waited outside for it to be over, using that time to buy you the delicious breakfast you have been longing for.

He really hoped they could give you the green light to go back home because that would have meant everything was okay and you were perfectly healthy. So he prayed to hear the good news he was waiting for, to see your baby in that white wooden cot you spent a whole day choosing at the store, paired with that flowery pink bedding set his sister gave you as a gift and that had you crying as soon as you opened the box.

After fifteen minutes or so the nurse opened the door followed by the medical staff who welcomed your boyfriend with a smile, the doctor holding your file in her hands. She complimented John on your newborn and told him what he was dying to hear: you and Iris’s health status was good and you were ready to leave the hospital.

He thanked her and nodded when she gave him some quick advice on how to take care of them during the delicate moments following the baby’s birth.

After saying their goodbyes quickly John rushed back to your room with a big grin plastered on his lips.

"We're going home babies" He cooed, taking the duffle bag with all your personal belongings.

“Not so fast, Stonesy” You chuckled “Help me get out of this bed so we can get ready”

The City player giggled and helped you step out of the bed so you could stand up properly. The standing posture made you feel pain in places in didn't even know they existed and the grimace on your face told it all.

“I’ll take the baby and all her things while you put all your stuff in here” He said, directing his tall body towards the crib where his princess was looking at him with her blue eyes. “Yes baby, you’ll come with dada” 

The moment you dreamt of a lot, that is to say John making his silly little voice to speak to your daughter, finally happened and it brought genuine tears to your eyes: funny how a small, tiny creature that you met for the first time no more than 72 hours earlier, that shared every single second of the last nine months of your life with you suddenly became the most important, priceless treasure you ever put your hands on. 

You thought there were some feelings it was impossible to give form to and love was one of them, but you had to change your mind the moment you took her in your arms because you  realised the human being you were holding was the embodiment of all the love you had for her dad. So some feelings, even the strongest one, had a shape and it was astonishingly beautiful.

“Oh I see you’re already taking the baby and leaving me with the heavy things” You mumbled, feigning being angry at him.

“You had her with you for 9 months, don’t be selfish”

“Me selfish?? Oh I’d have really liked you to carry her in your belly for 9 f-”

“Oi don’t swear in front of the baby”

You laughed seeing him all concerned and covering Iris’ ears as he was glaring at you. You shook your head as you slowly started to collect all your things around the hospital room.

“Give me my breakfast, I’m starving”

“See? Your mum has already changed and uses me as her butler and credit card”

His joke caused you to roll your eyes as you were trying to get dressed while dealing with your yet aching body.

You were in some baggy pants and an oversized hoodie because it was the only outfit you were feeling like wearing as John was there looking as flawless as usual even though his fit was quite simple: a pair of jeans matched with a gray jumper and a baseball cap on made him look hotter than usual. The child seat he was carrying with your baby girl in was making him even look like a real hot daddy and your heart was bursting with love. The right word to describe how you were feeling was blessed.

When you finally stepped foot in your house you sighed in satisfaction as you just wanted to get in your bed and cuddle with your new family in peace, eating some good junk food if possible.

“Home sweet home”

John smirked and carefully put the child seat on the floor so he could take Iris out of it.

“Welcome home, baby” He lifted her up to place her against his shoulder so her head could rest against it, as they showed him in the hospital. “This is your home”

“I’ve missed it so much…I think I’m going to lay down for a while”

Lying down on your own bed, on the bed sheets you chose, in the room you shared with the man of your life gave you that much needed home feeling.

You closed your eyes in the attempt to relax but the level of weariness, of emotions you had experienced recently didn’t make it any easier for you to sleep a little.

"Ok so I'm gonna go"

"I don't wanna see anyone" You mumbled when John finally entered your room, cradling Iris in his arms. When he looked down at her to see she was asleep, he put her in the wooden cot right next to your bed.

He couldn’t help but smile: that sight was the closest to perfection he had ever seen, as that piece of furniture that had been empty for all those past weeks was now full as it should have been, hosting the most important treasure ever.

"Not you, idiot. I just wanna see you and our baby" You grumbled as your voice came out feebly due to your state of tiredness.

John smiled and was about to sit next to you on the bed as your phone started ringing, much to your dismay. You groaned in annoyance.

"Who the fuck is now?"

"Your mum"

"Tell her I can't talk, I'm sleeping"

He nodded and swiped on the screen to do as he was told. You knew your mum was dying to talk to you, to make sure you were doing okay but you just wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment and keep that special moment for you only.

When he finished talking, he finally climbed on the bed and you soon were all over him, wrapping your arms around his body and letting your head rest against his chest with your eyes closed breathing in his familiar scent, the best fragrance in the world to you.

"Are you comfortable? Maybe it's better if you lay on a pillow"

"Nope, you're my comfiest pillow"

John scoffed with a half smile and kissed your head.

"Wanna watch something on Netflix?"

"Nope, too tired" You muttered, cuddling closer to his chest.

John's lips curved in a smile as he brushed his thumb against your right cheekbone.

He then scrolled through his phone, answering all the text messages the people he knew sent him ahead of your baby girl's birth.

"What are you doing?" You really wanted and needed to crack some sleep but your mind wasn't agreeing as the level of adrenaline in your body was still too high, plus you wanted to stay awake to spend some time with John and checking on Iris. 

"Answering all the texts they've sent for Iris"

"Read me some" You wanted nothing more than to bask in the sweet words of people congratulating you, saying how beautiful your baby was and how strong you've been through all the process. After all you deserved all those sweet words: bringing a child into the world is something so brave people tend to underestimate sometimes.

John pressed play on a voice note from Kyle that made you both laugh, then read you one from Jack and at that moment your own phone rang with a notification and you asked John to check who it was from.

"It's from Sasha, she answered the pic you posted with "congrats you gorgeous mama"

"Aww she's always the sweetest"

"Well, you're everything but gorgeous now…"

"HEY" You threw a fist against his bicep with the little strength that was left in you. "I just pushed your daughter out of my vagina, you should be a little more grateful"

John loved getting on your nerves, making your thin-skinned side come to surface. He giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I know I look awful and I stink as I really need to take a shower but I can't, I'm so tired" The whiny tone you pronounced those last words with was about to turn into a desperate cry but John took action just in time.

"You know I was joking" He took your face in his hands to look right into your eyes "I'd get you pregnant again right now if I could"

"Liar"

He laughed and kissed your forehead.

"I'll help you with the shower later on"

When your baby whined a little in her sleep the little yelp caught your attention as you both turned your heads towards the crib.

"There's the blanket over there, put it over her" You gestured for him to take the pink honeycomb blanket to cover your baby girl's sleeping body.

She looked so cute with that tiny blanketyou fell in love with as soon as your eyes took sight of it on the shop’s shelf and you had no doubt it would have been perfect for your beautiful baby.

“Can you believe we made her?” You asked John in awe as he was lovingly tucking her in. You got up to join him, encircling his waist with your right arm and putting your head against his bicep. "We made her teeny tiny feet, those little hands..."

“Yeah…you know what they say?”

“What?”

“Daughters tend to be more similar to their dads in the looks”

“So?”

“So if she’s beautiful that’s all thanks to me... even Kyle said it”

Another thing the collective consciousness ignored was the post pregnancy period: the danger of post-pregnancy depression was real but you knew you had the most handsome dad in the world who would have helped you along the path, even when the downs would have outnumbered the ups.

“Yeah Stones…I think you and your friend need some sleep too…you’re hallucinating”

And no, you weren't upset at all: you only wished for your daughter to be the carbon copy of her amazing father. So you hoped deep down your heart the Kyle was right.

[perplexingluciddreams]

friday we moved house. here is some things that happened. not all in order because my sense of time is bendy.

i did swing on morning of move day. i watched The Bloody Irish DVD. and part of Celtic Woman Emerald DVD. both with Lisa Lambe. (very important special interest).

mum said say bye to old room. i had a long look at it to say goodbye. i remember when it used to have a pink wall and butterfly wallpaper. and furniture in different places. different bed.

then 2 hour car journey!

at new house we got there before the moving trucks. so no furniture. and no heating for a while. so was very cold.

new house is big. much bigger than old house. mum and dad showed me around. even after days i still feel a bit lost... it will take time to learn.

i was so tired so i lie down on the floor and mum put hoodies under my head as pillow. and blankets over me. i had snacks and listen to my "fills brain just right" playlist of safe songs. then when my bed gets here, i went to sit in my bed.

[Image description: Ezra lying on his back on the floor. a few hoodies and a white cushion under his head. he is covered with blankets. he has his hood up and two teddies, one under each arm. his AAC device is on the floor next to him. his phone lays on his chest. his face is covered with a purple blob. end ID.]

[Image description: Ezra lying on his side on the floor with teddies cuddled to his chest. the same white pillow under his head and his phone in his hand. his eyes are closed. end ID.]

i told mum i feel safe and happy at the new house. and mum told dad. and dad came to me and said i gave him "sweaty eyes" (crying a few happy tears because he is glad i feel happy and safe). dad barely ever cries!

friday i had pasta for dinner out a weird bendy measuring container. we couldn't find bowls. but we had forks luckily.

no Internet since friday. the Sky people messed up and cancelled our Internet!! 😡 it was supposed to be monday we get wifi. we have to wait until the 6th of january. mum got me more mobile data.

i used my mobile data to do duolingo, check fitbit app, and check tumblr every so often. i saved posts to my drafts to reblog later. now that i have more data (thanks mum!) i will post all those reblogs.

i watch lots of DVDs. beauty and the beast. DVD was so glitchy from so much use in the past! Belle is my favourite princess since i was little. because she loves books and reading like me!! i watched that film so so many times over and over. almost couldn't watch it this time from so much video AND audio glitch! mum asked if i want a new copy, i said yes please :D

then sleeping beauty and maleficent (in that order). flash gordon, half of tinkerbell (got bored of it), tangled, the jungle book, muppets, the incredibles. camberwick green, bagpuss, mr benn, cult kids classics.

and of course i have watched my Celtic Woman and Lisa Lambe DVDs several times each! they are safe.

and read kindle. i got new books - Saxon Stories series by Bernard Cornwell. it is a long series so mum bought the first 6 for me (they came in a bundle together). these books is what The Last Kingdom is based on! so i hope for more Brida 🤞🏻, she is my favourite!! 😁

i listened to some Alex Rider audiobook too! i figured out how to connect headphones to kindle. sometimes (often) my brain goes on a tangent louder than the audiobook. i have to rewind lots. but i like it!

and i play games on phone. and listen to downloaded music on Spotify.

there was almost a disaster (aka meltdown). because no swing! friday night didn't sleep well. body restless and very stimmy. tense with buzzing energy.

then after dinner on saturday my body got super restless and antsy. and started pacing up and down the long corridor of upstairs. because just HAD to move. couldn't control it. couldn't stop it.

used to happen like this a lot, before i did swinging regularly. in school corridors, around bedroom, walking outside just keep going on and on and on, can't even control direction, my body just goes. even when i am exhausted and aching and legs feel like they are not there anymore. i can't stop it.

same with rocking and swaying and spinning and hitting wrists on hips. and slamming body into walls or bed or furniture. and shaking and flapping hands and arms (often at same time as i walk). all stims just out of control bursting out of me. so much dysregulation.

often would get worked up more and more and end up in meltdown. or sometimes get "lucky" and tire myself out so much then can't move for hours. still felt intense awful inside, but at least not have meltdown AND get in trouble told off punished for meltdown behaviour.

anyway, this time dad saved the day and put (temporary) swing up in living room. from the metal things up high! while i waited mum helped divert my path to my room and helped me stay rocking on my bed instead of pacing. then i did proper big swing. and calmed down. and slept really well that night. crisis averted. swing prevents so so many meltdowns!

[Image description: two pictures of Ezra in his swing. it is a hammock style swing. the first is from further away and you can see where the swing attatches to a metal beam high up. in the first image, Ezra slumps to the side a bit and looks down to his left. in the second picture, Ezra smiles but doesn't look at the camera. he is wearing black headphones. end ID.]

my legs muscles got so tight and sore from the pacing. and from bigger house means more walking. especially sore left (weaker side). my usual walk is quite shuffle-y and slow with short steps, but it was even more like that! and even more dragging left leg than usual.

since i was little i wish to be able to walk more. walking was always hard. tiring, painful. but instead of getting more with time, it got less and less. harder and harder. everything got harder. it is frustrating. i want my body to do so much more. and it is just not able.

i will get a wheelchair assessment here. don't know when. and mum and i talk about walking frame (posterior walker) possibility, to help walking around house. mum says she will ask the wheelchair people because they will know.

stairs are another challenge. bedroom upstairs, swing downstairs. stairs are huge hard work for me. it is possible, but exhausting. painful. especially painful on top of muscles already sore and fatigue from pacing. and few times a day for even a few days, means i get super much fatigue face flush. and sore aching body. drains ridiculous amounts energy. worry about crash.

i go down stairs sometimes sitting on my bum. but sometimes standing and go down one step at a time, always left foot (weaker) first. then for going up it is opposite, right foot (stronger) first and pull a lot with my arms on the banister. but already i crawled up the stairs a couple times. whichever way i do it, it is a huge workout for my whole body. at first i got help going with stairs, but last few times i did it on my own! i feel proud.

mum will call the stairlift people soon. but i don't like stairlift ☹️. even though i need it to be able to use precious energy for nice things (that is how mum says it). i just wish my body would do what i want and not have fatigue and pain like this. also much worry about stairlift makes even stronger "barrier" threshold.

when i can do it with my own body, i get less stuck. because it is more like follow a motor path. there is still a threshold, but my momentum can (usually) carry me over. if stairlift is there, it creates a point where i have to physically stop and change my action/task. that is where i am more likely to get stuck. and stairlift also has a bunch of steps to the task of using it. so if i can't even think of the steps or the order, i can't do it. and if that means i need help - it has to first occur to me that help is an option, occur to me that it is possible to ask for help, think how to ask, ask, and so on.

don't know for sure how it will be, but worry about all that.

bath is also different. harder work. mum keeps routine and order the same though. that helps. it is hard that it is different.

lots of things are a bit different. lots to get used to. water tastes different - at the old house the water was very very soft, here it is harder. it makes juice taste different. and lots of other small things. they add up.

sister came on tuesday night! she was at university but now she will live with us at this house. because it is close to her university. her bedroom is directly across the hall from mine.

i am very bored from lack of wifi. and from not able to get to swing as often. swing is my only physical outlet and my only way to get enough stim to regulate. and need a LOT of swing every single day to stay regulated. have to use so much of my limited energy to swing to avoid meltdown. i am really trying to be good. trying not complain. don't want to be any more a bother.

but i really like the new house. and hope hope hope 🤞🏻 with time it will get even better and better. 😊👍🏻

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend after uncovering his web of lies?

Ok. I’m going to try keep this as short as possible, and there’s some things I’ll keep out because I don’t want to accidentally reveal our identities. I (31, m) just broke up with my partner (35,m) of 3 years. We met on an app during Covid, and lived together for 2 and a half years of that. I truly loved him, he was a challenging person which sometimes led to fiery arguments that I hadn’t experienced in past relationships, but he also pushed me to feel more comfortable with confrontation and conflict which I needed. He was also really ambitious and supported my ambitions; I’ve had 3 promotions since we got together and I wouldn’t have dared to go for them if it hadn’t been for his encouragement. Basically, on the surface it all seemed really great.

That is until I discovered he had lied about his entire past - and some of his present. It all started when I stumbled across pics of “his home” online and discovered they were a museum (he claimed to be from a wealthy background). I asked him and he said it was to protect his family’s identity and swore there were no more lies.

I have never met his family, nor talked to them on the phone - they are in another country and he claimed they were old fashioned and wanted to meet in person, but Covid was in the way at first, and then his mum was unwell. After discovering the pictures were a lie, I started to really think about other stories he’d told me and what evidence I really had for them. The more I thought, the more I realised things didn’t add up.

A few examples: his mum and dad both apparently had high profile jobs but I couldn’t find anything about them online; he claimed to be from money but wouldn’t buy himself a car and borrowed mine; he claimed to have a brother my age but I couldn’t find any social media of his.

There was a lot more, but that was enough to make me question whether there were more lies. I asked him a few weeks later why I couldn’t find anything about his parents online, and asked to be introduced to his brother on social media. I told him that this felt like the most normal thing that would happen in relationships - I was very clear that I didn’t want to test him, I just wanted some contact with someone who knew him before I did. He said it wasn’t possible because he was more distant from his family than he’d led me to believe, due to childhood abuse that his parents had refused to acknowledge. I’m also a survivor of childhood abuse so this touched a nerve and the conversation shifted to me wanting to support him and make him know I believed him.

Anyway. Fast forward another two months and nothing has changed. Tonight, it came to a head in a discussion where he wanted to get rid of my favourite chair in order to make room for a new TV. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with this because I felt insecure in the relationship as nothing had been resolved. I went over my concerns again and suddenly his whole tone shifted. He asked if I was “ready for the truth” and asked me not to share it with anyone.

The truth turned out to be very different from everything he’d said over the past 3 years. Whether it is the truth, I don’t know, but he claimed that his mum was actually a drug addict and he hadn’t known his dad until he was 18, he was removed by child services at 14 and the character he created as his mum to me was based on the woman he lived with during that time. He never studied abroad as he had first claimed, and a whole load of other lies. The worst lie was that his mum had cancer - the reason why we couldn’t visit because she didn’t want him to see her while she was weak (this made sense with the strong character her created for her). It turns out apparently the woman who took him in died from cancer when he was 18 and he based it on that. Now, I don’t even know how much of this is true, but it feels closer to the truth than the original stories. The thing is, he’s cried on me about his mums cancer, and he’s told my mum about it (a cancer survivor), and regularly talks about it in detail. In fact, all his stories have had incredible detail - which is what made us all believe them.

Now, here’s where I may be the arsehole. After he confessed all of this, I said I can’t be in a relationship with him because I can’t trust him. But he took a big step in admitting it all to me and he’s clearly very unwell if he is lying on this scale. He clearly has had a traumatic past and he told me that his lies were because any time he opens up to people about his past he loses them. I worry that by breaking up with him, I’m reinforcing this cycle where he feels he has to lie to be loved. The thing is - none of what he told me in any of this was the reason why I love him. I didn’t care where he came from, or his claims of wealth, etc. I just liked who he was as a person. I really feel torn because on the one hand he is clearly in need of help, stability and love in order to heal himself so that he doesn’t feel the need to lie. On the other hand, I can’t foresee being able to trust him in the near future. So, AITA for breaking up with someone who is so desperately in need of love and support?

What are these acronyms?

[pensat-i-fet]

I chose you (Julián Álvarez x Reader)

**Got another Julián request recently and it’s always funny how easy it is to write for him. So hopefully it’s easy and enjoyable to read for all of you ❤️**

Word count: 1879

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Are you ok?”, asks my mum, and I can see the worry in her expression even through the screen.

“Yeah. Just not feeling 100% at the moment, you know?”

“Why? Are you sick or something?”

“No. I guess I’m just going through one of those moments where I don’t feel super confident or whatever. No specific reason. For all I know, it could just be the bad weather making me feel this way”.

“Is everything ok with Julián?”

I smile without even noticing. “Yes, mum. It’s nothing to do with him”.

“Well, I’ll still tell him to take better care of you so you don’t feel this way”.

“Mum, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my boyfriend to take care of me”.

“We all need people to take care of us. Don’t forget that”.

I don’t want to admit it but I know she’s right. I’m always in my own head, not sharing how I feel and it can be a bit much sometimes.

“I’ll talk to Julián when he comes back”, I promise to myself before picking up my phone to waste my time on social media.

I see City have posted some photos, including one of Julián, so I like the post. Then I click on his profile and go to the tagged photos. I always love seeing all the photos of him that professional photographers take. I have an album full of them.

But I also see photos fans have posted. It seems like there are more girls taking photos with him after training. With him and all the others, but I only care about my boyfriend.

I’m not a jealous person. I’ve never been, honestly. It’s easy to say you aren’t but then your actions show the opposite. However, that’s not me. I don’t think I’d be able to deal with the stress if I was a jealous person and dating a football player.

So it’s not jealousy I feel while reading the captions they write for my boyfriend. Or seeing the videos where they try to hug him or kiss his cheek. But if it isn’t jealousy, then what is it?

I usually would just laugh it off. Julián himself tells me stories of these meetings whenever something funny happens, knowing how little I’ll care about their flirting with him.

Opening TikTok is probably the stupidest idea at the moment. Yet here I am wasting more time making myself feel ugly seeing all the gorgeous girls I follow for beauty and fashion inspo and getting annoyed at the edits Julián’s fans make for him.

“I’m so stupid”, I say, throwing the phone on the sofa before hiding underneath one of the blankets.

A couple of minutes later, Julián is back and starts to call my name. For a second, I think about pretending to sleep but he would notice the lie.

“I’m here”, I say in a small voice, getting my head out from underneath the blanket so he can see me.

“What are you doing there? Are you feeling alright?”

I nod, not wanting to worry him with my silly thoughts. “Just tired”.

“Well, I’m tired too. How about you move so I can fit next to you and we cuddle?”

“I’d like that”.

My promise to tell him about how I was feeling is gone the second I place my head on his chest. Because I have no reason to feel like this. I should be fine. This will pass soon.

                                    **

"So how was your day?, asks Julián while he sets the table for our dinner. We fell asleep on the sofa the moment we cuddled and didn't get to talk at all.

"Ok, I guess", I shrug.

"What did you do? You always tell me about the whole day. Come on, I want to know".

I'm usually excited to talk about my day. But not right now. "You know. Studied in the morning, face timed with my mum and then went to the sofa to nap".

"Everything ok with your parents?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

I can see him trying to find the right words. "I don't know. You seem a bit off. I thought maybe they gave you bad news or something".

"No. I'm just tired. I told you".

"Well, then you sit here", he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and guiding me to the chair. "And I'll finish getting everything ready".

"Thank you", I say, offering him a small smile. His is a lot bigger and after kissing my temple he goes back to the kitchen.

During dinner, he updates me on everything going on at the club and focusing my attention on someone else for a second helps me a lot.

"Feeling better?", he says, hopeful.

"Yes. I think I'll just take a shower before bed to help me relax".

"Go do that. I'll put this in the dishwasher".

I get up to go to the room and stop when I reach Julián to give him a hug.

"I love it when you're clingy like that".

This time the smile is bigger. It's easy to smile when he's around. It's when I'm alone with my thoughts that I struggle.

When I get out of the shower, I try to make a bit of an effort. It's not as if I have to impress Julián right now, but I need to impress myself, sort of.

Whenever I'm having these confidence issues or whatever they are, the first thing I drop is looking after myself. I struggle with simple things such as putting on moisturizer after the shower or picking cute outfits. And it only makes me feel worse in the end because I look worse. It's such a stupid cycle.

Julián is already in bed looking at his phone when I get back to the room. He puts the phone away the moment I get to the bed and puts one of his arms around my shoulders to bring me closer to him.

"You smell so good I could eat you".

I laugh. "You don't like coconut".

"Not the fruit. But I like it when you smell like this", he says, nuzzling his nose on my neck.

"Feel free to use the body butter if you want to smell like me", I joke.

"Wouldn't that make me too irresistible to other women?"

I roll my eyes at his bad joke. "I'll take the risk".

"Actually, I didn't tell you this funny story from today. These three girls asked for a photo when I was in my car and kept complimenting me, my clothes, my car …no subtlety", he laughs but I don't join him. "And then a kid showed up and they had to let him get closer and were so annoyed. They'll probably be there again tomorrow".

I don't say anything because what can I say? I already saw the photos and I thought the girls looked familiar. I guess they spend their days there.

"Hey, you ok?"

"Yes", I say, turning my back to him and pretending to get ready to sleep.

"What was that?"

"I'm sleepy. Good night".

"What did I do for you to react like…wait, are you jealous?"

"What?", I say, turning again to look at him.

"I told you about those girls and you got all weird. You have no reason to be jealous, you know that".

"I'm not jealous of any fangirls, Julián".

And I'm not, but my tone and my face make it sound like a lie. I hate this feeling.

I go back to my previous position and a couple of seconds later I notice Julián wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing me closer to his chest.

"It's you I want. Please know that".

"I know", I whisper. Maybe it's better if he thinks I'm jealous instead of having to dig deeper to explain everything else. "I love you".

"I love you too. Sleep well now. You'll feel better tomorrow after a good night's rest".

If only it were that easy.

                                      **

The next couple of days, Julián seems to be tiptoeing around my feelings and he doesn't bring up any meetings with fangirls. Actually, by checking Instagram, I've noticed one of them mentioned he didn't stop to attend them at all. I don't even know how I feel about that.

By the time he comes back from training, I'm back under the blanket and when he gets to the sofa, he moves it to see my face.

"You were worrying me so I spoke to your mum".

"What?", I say, sitting up.

"Well, you don't talk to me so I had to do something. I can't see my girlfriend hurting and do nothing".

"I just don't know what happens to me", I say, feeling the tears on the back of my eyes.

"It's not going to solve everything but sit here", he says, patting the spot between his legs. "So I can hold you while we try to make sense of it, ok?"

I nod, sitting there and letting him share his strength with me through this hug.

"It's just something that happens sometimes. I don't know if it's anxiety or something else. But I just feel like I'm not enough. Like all my confidence is gone. Like anything I have to do, no matter how small, demands too big of an effort from me".

"Ok. Does it usually take long for that feeling to go away?"

"It depends. It used to be worse when I was younger. Now it's usually a couple of days. Maybe a week and a half or something like that".

"And do you know anything that can make you feel better? Whatever it is, I'll make sure you have it".

"You".

He looks at me confused. "What do you mean?"

"I need you. You don't even notice how much you help me just by being you. It's when you're not around that it gets worse".

"That means a lot to me. But we need to find other ways to help. I wish I could always stay with you but I can't".

"I know", I say, hugging him tighter and placing my head on his chest.

"And you're sure there is no jealousy involved in this? It's ok if there is. I mean, I'm jealous of every man that talks to you".

I chuckle. "No, I'm not jealous. I guess what made me feel worse about those fans was their confidence. How they had no fear of going to talk with you guys and being so direct to you. I wouldn't be able to do something like that. Not in the state I'm in at the moment".

"You don't need to. Because I chose you a while ago. And I keep choosing you every day".

"But you didn't know all these issues were included in the package when you chose me. What if it gets too much for you? I don't want you to feel like you have to baby me".

"I'm not. I'm just looking after you like you look after me. Can you just let me do it? Let me look after you, please".

"Does looking after me include cuddles and watching my favourite movies while we eat ice cream?"

"Of course it does".

"Then count me in".

[cosmicalily]

stray kids as...my loved ones

author's note: it's been a while since i've posted and im not sure how how many new lovies have joined since i lowkey ghosted everyone! but in case you guys didn't know, i have the sweetest, silliest stay family (we all went to the stray kids concert together in melbs). and i feel like my love for them and their personalities really correspond to certain members, especially through our relationships. i've been wanting to make a post like this for a while and here it finally is! enjoy x

my mum as lee minho

like minho, my mum is quite introverted, but very giggly and talkative when she's with our family and her few close friends. she's selective about who she shows this side of her personality to, and it just makes it more special for those (like me) who get to see it daily

when watching the skz two kids room, mum said that jisung and minho's friendship is a lot like our relationship (SOBBING). whilst im loud and a certified yapper, my mum is still my quiet, safe space and a place where i can just calm myself down and lower my energy

we're also both on the adhd spectrum which i majorly see for them lols

she loves to cook, and acts of service are her way of showing her love. she grew up in a japanese household, and culturally you don't show as much affection, but she's learning. and im a major physical touch girlie, and ive seen her try to teach herself to love me that way. basically the best mum ever

oh, and she ADORES cats!

she's also lowkey like a mum of skz, kinda like minho is, but from a distance obvs. she treats them all like her sons, she has a picture of them on our fridge, photocard in her phone, listens to skz lofi whilst working. she supports them in every way and always gets so excited about their achievements.

essentially, she's a very calming, but at times chaotic presence, and im so lucky to have her. she's the perfect person to balance me out.

my dad as...seo changbin

oh, and if i say my dad is the BIGGEST goofball?

he's so silly. unlike changbin he's actually super tall (muahaha) but changbin is def musclier. so.

anyway moral is they both lowkey look a little intimidating, but in reality they're absolute softies. babygirls, if you will.

like changbin, my dad is a major girl group stan. for his birthday last year, he literally bought us twice tickets and when i tell you he knew EVERY lyric! he also has a love for every girl group choreo ever, with a penchant for newjeans' hype boy (cough CHANGBIN)

again, above all, he's just a very sweet, silly guy. he's very dependable, and he and i will often work on house projects together, whether it be painting or building furniture or making him help me rearrange my bedroom. with twice blasting in the background, it's gonna get done and it's gonna get done WELL

he's very accepting and listens when i yap, or when im confused about things. him and mum have that balance of giving me very down to earth advice, but also silly jokes and comments

ALSO like a proud dad of skz. he adores them and gets so excited about their achievements.

my brother as...yang jeongin

my brother is lowkey the coolest and im actually jealous of him sometimes bc he's a major silly goose without putting in effort to be one and he somehow actually has a decent fashion sense for a 14 year old boy. okay king, dropped ur crown!

BUT like yenie, this boy can be sarcastic and jokey. we always try and smother him in physical affection and he ALWAYS teases us for it and goes "ew" (lowk seungmin core)

BUT THE REASON I SAY JEONGIN IS BC HE DOES THE FOOD THING. THE THING WHERE YOU SHOVE A TON OF FOOD IN YOUR MOUTH AT ONCE. HE DOES IT. IT'S SO SILLY

my sister as...lee felix

oh she's the sweetest. i wake up to little notes and paper crafts from her, and she LOVES to bake me sweet treats. i take her on little coffee dates to the cafe where i work, and my coworkers adore her. yes, she gets two extra marshmallows for free. sometimes a third. sometimes a cookie, too. they're whipped, and who wouldn't be?

she's also a gamer BAHAHAHA if you count dress to impress, and she's GOOD. even though she's legit only 10 herself, she tells those other basic 10 year olds who's boss. always on the podium, making her fashionista sister proud

she always just wants to spend time with people. she's like a cat, just follows you around. sometimes adorable, sometimes drives me crazy.

she also does the felix sees, felix does. she loves imitating my brother and i, whether it be our mannerisms or phrases. she saw our handshake and immediately wanted in. she heard us call each other silly names and asked us to make her one. she's the cutest.

[whosname]

Don't you hate when it's not only The Horrors but the Little Horrocitos también?

Well yeah, sure, I need to (find) talk to a lawyer about this work bullshit 'cause they decided to finish our long term contracts and make us freelance contractors. Sure sure, I should ask my lawyer uncle, tell him everything without losing my cool for a second. Problem is I have no fucking brain to do that. I can't be sure I can tell him everything without calling boss no 3 a motherfucker, boss no 4 (hey new character!) a puppet and boss no 1 a good for nothing/only interested in his own... interests.

So I guess I'm gonna just eat this for now, be responsible of paying my own health insurance and pension plan, receive little benefits just because boss no 3 doesn't know how to manage money and I just don't have the energy to fight anymore. Cool.

Also, yeah I guess i gotta call my aunt in her 97th birthday too, I'm a fucking adult and this is part of my job as an adult who understands this is the minimum you should do for your extended family. Hey, it's just a phone call, you used to know how to do them. (This is like the stupidest horrorcito)

Oh, you planned to see your friends you haven't seen in a year on Saturday? Wow, you even baked 'em a cake! Bad news, your friends wife got sick and everything is canceled and now you hand hurts for nothing (beating eggs). But we can always reschedule, right? (Yeah, yeah we did it. Horrorcito avoided) (<- but you still managed to find a way to feel like shit, sure sure sure, very rational of you)

Also, now that we're talking about friends, that weird people that love you but they are all married with kids; that friend of yours that lives overseas and is visiting with her daughter and husband? Yeah, they're leaving on Friday and you assured her, the sencond day of her visit, you were gonna have plenty of time to get together, even if you knew it was bullshit, you knew she was gonna be very busy. You get that she has her own family and you can't make her meet you (her single by choice friend) anytime you want. As a result, you've only seen her for like 3 hours in a month.

And don't get me started with all the health woes, not yours, not you mums, noooooooo, don't even dare.

I know these are Stupid Little Horrocitos, like they're almost dumb, but sometimes these things add up a lot. I'm just rambling, y'know? I'm just exhausted and scared of the thing that's gonna make me climb the walls.

Now shut it and begin the research into the best savings account and, if you have some energy really look into getting a less shitty job (unlikely. Nice career choice, idiot)

[etherealspacejelly]

Hey dad,

Are you out to your parents? I can never come out to mine, which creates a lot of questioning for my future.

If you are, how did you do it (I’m presuming you have parents)?

Thanks from a closeted new follower of your brilliant posts :)

I am out to my parents! I came out about 5 years ago now, it was my anniversary recently actually!

i came out to my dad first. i was going to his house for a different reason, but i decided to do it then because. idk. i just felt ready i guess. i sat down with him and he could tell something was up, so he asked me if there was anything i wanted to talk about and i said yes. and i told him i was nonbinary and aroace, and that i wanted to use they/them pronouns and go by a shortened version of my birth name (this was before i had decided on robin and he/they). he asked me what those things meant, with genuine curiosity because he hadnt heard of them before, so i explained it to him and he said ok! thats fine. and he said he loved me and supported me no matter what, and that it would be a bit hypocritical for him not to since he is queer himself (which i was not aware of at the time! he just assumed i knew??? hes pansexual lmao)

he did a bunch of research in his own time, watching videos by nonbinary youtubers and stuff like that. he learned how important it is for parents to facilitate social transition, so he took me to get my first gender affirming haircut a few weeks later. he also bought me my first binder, and took me shopping in the mens section for the first time. he also took me to my first pride that year! he has remained super supportive, calling me his son at work, greeting me with "hey my boy!" every time he sees me or calls me on the phone, has barely ever slipped up on my pronouns. basically, my dads a fucking legend lmao

i think a few weeks to a couple months after i told my dad, i came out to my mum. that went. not great. she was like. ok. and immediately went back to her phone. my heart just sank. she still gets my pronouns wrong 5 years later, she says often that i will always be her daughter. she even said that trans people are just mentally ill. she loves jkr and often uses terf talking points. but, she Says she supports me and isnt transphobic, and she Tries to use my pronouns so. yk. that makes everything ok /s

she also thinks that ill change my mind about being aroace when i find 'the right person'. i never told her about the queer platonic relationship i was in because i knew she would just use that against me. i had an entire year long relationship, and to this day she has no idea.

the thing is, my mum had always been a self professed supporter of the lgbtq. when i was a kid it was always "when you grow up and get a boyfriend or girlfriend" or "when you get married to your husband or wife", so i thought it would be a slam dunk. i thought, theres no way she wont accept me. but here we are. meanwhile, i had been quite nervous about telling my dad! i didnt know how he was going to react.

so, you never really know how these things will go. this isnt me telling you to come out, by the way! if you feel unsafe or unready then please dont. do whats right for you first and foremost. but, sometimes people will surprise you i guess, and not always for the better.

you will find your people. family is about unconditional love and acceptance, and if your parents arent providing that for you then they're not doing their damn jobs properly.

im always here if you need a dad, it would be my honour.

I love you, and I'm proud of you, kiddo :)

[fruitycasket]

Pot Roast! (Sunspell)

I don't know how to write people being happy... So I made a compromise with myself and had Marvin be sick, so then Moira (first) and Sunday (second) can come to his aid and make him a bit happier. Also Higgins is there being (un)helpful.

Also. I made myself hungry. Pot roast is good (and it cooks itself!). :>

(Also up on Ao3 under RottenFruitz)

“You should've called me, you're burning up!” Moira shook her head at the unseen but undoubtedly high number displayed on her thermometer.

Wow, I had no idea. Had it been anyone else, Marvin would have said that aloud. For Moira, he mumbled, "You didn't have to come over."

To that, she snorted. "Not like it's my job or anything. Can you stand?"

No. No he could not. "I'm a man, I can get m'own medicine."

"And end up crawling back to your bed?"

"Ah… well…" That was an accurate assessment of how Marvin handled debilitating sickness. Grumbling half-legible rebuttals, he sank further into bed. Perched on his chest as he had been since daylight broke, Higgins purred, the noise going steady like the hum of a generator. The cat seemed to think he was helping but the extra body heat was the last thing Marvin wanted.

He was scalding hot, sweaty, and mouthbreathing as he lay on top of his duvet. Every now and then be broke into a fit of wet, choking coughs or was seized by several sneezes in a row. What had been the sniffles yesterday was now a full-blown, disabling flu. Or something like that. Maybe Moira had told him otherwise and he hadn't heard or forgotten.

“You need is rest,” Moira chided him, "Which means you stay in this bed until you're feeling better."

"All day? I'll go mad."

"You will be if I find out you've not listened to me."

Marvin hesitated. "Yeah, I will be."

He'd only told Sunday he was ill, and had only meant for Sunday and his friends to know, but he must have sounded seconds from keeling over if the news had gotten to Moira anyway. Did one of them have her phone number? That was a little disconcerting for a reason he couldn't place. That, or they'd just gone to his mum's house, and he didn't feel better about that, either.

Moira said something about getting him medicine and water. Marvin wasn't really listening. His brain, currently cooking in its own immune response, was struggling to keep up its usual activities, and he had all but used up its computing space with that single conversation and the following bit of thinking. Moira left and she could have been gone for a minute or an hour, but when she returned, she spooned Marvin two different medicines, set a glass of cool water on his nightstand, and kissed him on the forehead.

(Then, at the cat's insistence, she gave Higgins a kiss, too.)

“You should feel less shitty in a little while,” Moira stood, "I'll be on my way, now. You get some rest like I said."

“M'kay…” Marvin said. “Thanks.”

“That’s what parents are for." She squeezed his hand, stood, and left him with one more message: "A friend is coming over to check on you later, so if you've been getting out of bed"—she narrowed her eyes—"I'll know."

Marvin sighed, then all but coughed up a lung. When he was finished, he whispered through a sore throat, "Yes ma'am."

Whatever Moira had given him, it knocked him out within the hour. With Higgins as his mildly weighted blanket, he drifted in and out of sleep for all the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon. Once or twice a noise roused him, but he was never cognizant enough to register that he was awake, or that someone might be pressing a hand against his forehead and asking him how we was doing, or that he was answering in deeply slurred words. It all felt like one long, lurid dream where his bedroom sometimes spontaneously appeared.

(It would take hindsight for him to realize it wasn't all a dream, and to realize who some of those dreams were about.)

It wasn't until mid-afternoon when his medicine wore off that Marvin started staying up for more than a few minutes at a time.

By the time he was wide awake, able to push himself up in bed, Higgins was gone.

Coughing and wheezing, he fumbled for the bottles Moira had left for him beside his bed and gave himself what seemed like an appropriate dose from both. The bitter taste was washed down with a cup of water. With that done, he tried to follow his orders—don't get up, except to take a piss or eat—but he was stir crazy and wanted to get away from the cocoon of sweat he'd made for himself. He had to move around, wander, cast a spell, something. It was one thing to be curled up with a book, snug in his bed of his own free will, but the second someone or something forced stillness upon him he got twitchy.

So, when he got sick, he usually slept as much as he could get away with, but his oppressive body heat and inflamed nose yet to be quelled by his second medicine dose. That wasn't an option.

Well, the thermostat wasn't in his bedroom, that was a good enough excuse to get up. And he could top off Higgins' food and water while he was at it.

It took a while for Marvin to peel himself off his bed. Once he was up, he meandered out to his living room. He opened his mouth to call for Higgins, and instead ended up sputtering: “Sunday?”

Sunday was in his kitchen. A pot of beef stew was boiling strong, an electric kettle was just beginning to heat up, and he was rifling through the cabinets. Higgins was up on the counter, curled into a loaf and watching the pot with hungry eyes. Sometimes the cat gave Sunday a quick glance, like he was weighing up how likely it was that he could get the lid off, steal a bite, and dart under the couch before he was caught.

Upon hearing his name, Sunday stopped his search to give Marvin a disapproving frown. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Oh, so you were—I just—I expected you'd check in and leave.”

“I have been, but I thought you'd want dinner, and…" Sunday gestured at Higgins, "…he was hungry. I can leave now, though. Stew beef basically cooks itself and it's almost done."

Marvin considered that. "No I'm—I'm fine. With you staying, I mean."

“Alright. Well, sorry if I woke you up coming through the front door,” Sunday continued speaking, “Your spice cabinet didn't have what I needed, for one thing. Had to pop out and get some things.”

“I don't have a spice cabinet.” What he had was salt and pepper.

Sunday grimaced. “Exactly.” He paused. "You headed for the living room?”

"Yeah." It was only then Marvin realized he was winded. Ugh. He'd rather not have Moira coming around and spooning him medicine like he was five years old, but she'd at least seen (almost) all the rough edges he had to offer. It was different with Sunday.

"Figured as much. Let me get you before you keel over." Sunday came closer, and rather than offer a shoulder to lean on like Marvin expected he would, put on hand on his back. "Hold on to me."

"Why?" Marvin realized what was happening too late. Not that he could have done anything about it anyway, he'd had the build and muscle mass of a stickbug before this, now he must be even lighter from sweating all his water weight into his bed. It was an (embarassingly) proven fact that, whether with magic or by physical force, he was not a hard man to lift clear off the floor. “Don’t you dare”—

“Too late!” Sunday swept Marvin's feet out from under him, lifted him up bridal style.

Marvin, foreseeing himself plummet to the floor and break a bone, clung on to Sunday as he'd been asked. “Put me down!”

“And let you fall? That'd only embarrass you more.”

Marvin prayed his face wasn't as red as it felt. “The second I get better Sunday, I”—

“As long as you wait until you’re better first.” Sunday set him down on the couch and grinned. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

Marvin harrumphed at him.

Someone had anticipated Marvin would go nuts in his room, because there were pillows and a blanket arranged neatly on the couch already. As Marvin set about ruining it (i.e. getting comfortable), Higgins jumped onto his lap the moment the space was available, crushing his stomach beneath his soft paws in a quest to get comfortable. With Higgins help, the blankets became a cushion-y, wrinkled pile hanging halfway off the couch.

Should I say thanks? He didn't feel particularly thankful. But he also didn't feel horrible, even though he was warmer than before and also no closer to his thermostat.

“When’s lunch done?” he asked instead.

“Soon. Sooner if you don't mind tough beef. I can make you a little hot cocoa while you wait, if you’re hungry, though.”

“Sure,” Marvin said. He shrank into the couch, suddenly aware of how sore he was.

A deep ache wormed through his muscles, down to his bones, and trying to hobble into the kitchen hadn’t helped matters. Half of him wanted to pace to distract himself from it, the other half said to sink into the couch and never resurface. At least his medicine was slowly working its way through him. (Or he'd placebo-effected himself into thinking that was the case.)

Every time he recovered from an illness he was quick to forget how miserable being sick was.

It felt like this would be his life now.

Forever.

“Oi. I see you wallowing over there,” Sunday chided him as he set down a steaming cup of chocolate milk on the couchside table.

“M'not wallowing,” Marvin said.

“Suuure.” Sunday gestured towards the drink. “Drink up.”

The heat of the cup eased his soreness a little. He sat with it in his hands, relishing its warmth for a while before taking a sip. “It’s good,” he said, “And I… I was wallowing. A little.”

“Only a little?” Sunday asked as he retreated into the kitchen.

Marvin didn’t reply to that. “How long have you been here? Coming in and out, I mean?”

“Only been in a few times.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The sound of the pot lid being removed drifted from the kitchen alongside a mouthwatering smell. "Yeah this is almost good. Let me know if you need anything else."

Marvin asked for the heat to be turned down, and with that finished, silence settled over them, filled only by Higgins purring, then by the TV after Marvin couldn’t bear the quiet. Marvin wondered whether Sunday found it uncomfortable.

Should he have asked him to stay? Surely he had better things to do than keeping Marvin from going stir crazy. And, as it stood, Marvin was a health hazard. There had to be reasons Sunday had spent most of his time coming and going instead of here, and it felt odd to override those. Higgins had needed to be fed though and Marvin definitely couldn't have done that as he was.

One episode of some crime drama passed by surprisingly fast, and dinner was done.

Higgins knew it before Marvin did. He'd been watching Sunday every time he got up for signs he was going to the kitchen, and once he started taking out bowls for the stew, the cat darted across the floor to circle the man's ankles, begging for food as he came out of the kitchen with two bowls. Successfully charmed by his fuzzy round face, Sunday flung him a strip of beef after setting the food down on little couchside table.

Marvin shook his head. “You're spoiling him. Now he'll be insufferable."

Higgins inhaled the entire chunk of stew beef, tenderized by six hours of boiling in soup. When he was done, he licked his chops and sat by Sunday again, this time looking up at him with dinner plate-sized, I would die for you (so please feed me again!) eyes.

Marvin took a bite of his stew.

Damn, and so would I.

“Good, right?” Sunday was back on the armchair, attention split between Marvin and Higgins, who was poised to jump into his lap.

“It’s great, yeah.” Marvin paused. It went on for too long, and a little embarrassed that he didn’t say it before, hurried to add, “Thanks.”

"Of course it is, that's my mum's recipe."

They returned to silence, and Marvin alternated between being convinced it was awkward and thinking it was companionable. Sometimes they burst into fits of vibrant conversation for however long that lasted before drifting into quiet. Together, they burned through one third of a TV show they'd been meaning to watch, a few video essays, and a few bowls of stew beef, at which point it was getting dark, and Sunday wanted to go home. It was one of the first times Marvin had blown through a sick day so fast without the use of sleep.

It was nice.

A sick day—nice. What an oxymoron.

"Well…" Sunday stood and made a show of stretching, "It's about time I take my leave. Will you be alright here?"

I will be if you can carry me back to bed.

Marvin opened his mouth and hesitated. "I can get to bed on my own. But, yeah, I appreciate you for feeding the cat and all that."

Sunday grinned at him. "That's what friends are for. I'll see you around."

He watched Marvin head to his room, then started leaving when it seemed like he'd make it safely.

Marvin was left to crawl into bed, top off his medicine, and get as cozy as he could manage as he listened for the sound of Sunday leaving and locking the door behind him.

Once the other magician was gone, some little thrill that'd wormed into his heart died, and left behind a ghost—a notion that he'd messed something up.

Hm.

Being sick wouldn't be so bad if Sunday came over every time.

[girl-mercury]

sometimes your bestie tells you to get some fucking therapy

“I think you need to talk to someone,” Donna says.

“I talk all the time, I talk to you, I talk to your mother, I talk to the man who brings the mail —amazing arrangement, mail, not sure I ever stopped to appreciate— what do you mean I should talk to someone?”

“You know what I mean. A professional. A therapist or something.” 

“Donna! What the hell would I say to a therapist? Really. What would a human therapist have to say about my life? Nobody lives like me, Donna, nobody has these experiences, nobody studies these experiences in school—“

“You need someone!”

“I’ve got you! I’ve got you. And other friends. So many friends. That I’m actually seeing again. Or planning to. I really do plan to.”

Donna sighs. She feels old. Not in a tired sort of way, not in an ancient sort of way —actually, scratch that, she has a teenage daughter, she’s made to feel ancient five times before breakfast— but she feels old in a grown-up kind of way. The kind of grown up where you know what to say to make a dentist appointment, because it’s no longer your first time doing it after your mum’s made your dentist appointments your whole life. Being grown up means that there’s a lot of things you’re not doing for the first time, all scared and unsure what to say or what you’ll need. You’ve done this before. You’ve got this. 

The Doctor always runs, not just from his past but to new experiences. Constantly, new, new, new. It’s a glorious life, full of adventure. Donna’s lived it, and she loves it. It’s such a rush, to never know what you’re doing, but knowing you’ll throw yourself headlong into it regardless. But that’s not all there is. There’s beauty in layering one experience done a hundred times over on top of itself. Every morning she sees Rose’s beautiful face again, so happy now that she can show the face she feels is hers. Every kiss she shares with Shaun is the same as the million before it, all the way back to the first time they kissed, and isn’t that marvelous? The Doctor’s never around for the millionth time of anything. He’s already long gone. 

“Just think about it,” she says. “I can help find somebody, figure out what sort of person might get it. Maybe UNIT’s got some resources. I don’t know how long Time Lord burnout lasts, I think taking a break is really going well for you, but I know how you get in your head. Might be good to let it out.”

“How do you know what’s in my head, Donna Noble?” he asks, teasing, knowing the answer. 

“Cause I’ve been in there, Spaceman, and it’s a real tip,” she answers, grinning. 

He slings an arm around her neck and pulls her close, dropping a quick kiss on her head, and then Rose gets home from school, and there’s some shouting about homework before sewing her new batch of stuffed Adipose babies, and then Wilf rings and says somebody needs to come get him if he’s coming for supper, and then the phone rings again and Donna has to have her third argument of the week with the home insurance company about her claim for the damage the aliens did to the house, and the very ordinary day goes on. The Doctor slips out to go for a walk. 

He goes for a lot of walks these days. Trying to slow down from all the running. 

+ + +

It’s a few weeks later when he and Shaun are out at the pub, waiting for Donna to join them. The Doctor’s asking if Shaun would mind if he takes Rose on a little adventure to Egypt for her birthday. Shaun’s a little dry when he says, “Permission, eh?”

“Well,” says the Doctor expansively. “It’s up to her, really. Less permission, more… advance warning.”

Donna arrives, drops a kiss on Shaun’s lips, bumps her arm up against the Doctor’s. There’s a pint already waiting for her. “The Doctor’s going to have Rose running through pyramid trap tunnels chased by possessed mummies for her birthday,” Shaun tells her. 

“I didn’t say that!” the Doctor protests. “I don’t know that there’s going to be possessed mummies. Just… I do run into some gods, every time I’m there. Not really gods, but, well, you know how rumors get around.”

“Fine,” Donna says. “If I hear my daughter’s even ended up on the altar for being a human sacrifice, I will slap you so hard your face will spin back to the first one.” 

His eyebrows go up. If anyone could manage that, Donna could. 

Later in the evening, they’ve left, the Doctor is still sitting at one of the outside tables, talking to some other guy whose name he doesn’t know. They’re not drunk, just having the kind of deep conversation you can have with a stranger after three beers. 

“My friend, she thinks I need to talk to a therapist,” the Doctor says to his new friend. The man’s an American, just moved to London. He’s told him about adventuring through space, and  aliens have come through London enough times that someone having space adventures is plausible even to someone normal. Or maybe the guy thinks he’s bullshitting the whole thing. Impossible to tell, really. 

“Therapists can help,” the man says. He lights up a cigarette. “I’ve had to see one a few times, just to get me straightened out after shit’s happened.”

“I don’t know, I just don’t like talking about, you know. Stuff. Things.”

“Oh, yeah, the stuff and the things.”

“And I don’t know who would even have advice. They don’t have specialists in space adventurers, do they? Not to sound arrogant, really and truly, but no one else has this kind of life.”

The man’s taking a drag when the Doctor says this so plaintively, and he chokes, coughing before he can get out his laughing. And then he laughs some more, and the Doctor’s considering getting a little offended. “No, man,” the guy eventually gets out. “You’re in emergency services.”

“I’m in what?” 

“Like an EMT, or whatever people call them over here. The medical folks who ride in the back of the ambulance. You show up to a place, everything’s on fire, everyone’s yelling. You get people to safety, you find out what’s wrong with them, and you start helping. You help other people get things to stop exploding, you point the police at whoever caused the ruckus in the first place. You see people at their best, and you see them at their worst, not a lot in between. Then once it’s over, you go home, and sleep, and get up the next day, and go to the next place that’s on fire. Every day.”

“Well, I’m the Doctor,” says the Doctor. 

“Maybe a bit overqualified, then. But it gets to you. You do it because you function best under pressure, when everything’s urgent and lives are on the line, and then you keep doing it because it’s what you know how to do. Even when you’ve seen so many fucked up things that there’s this numb part of you that you’re afraid doesn’t feel anything anymore. People die when you’re doing everything to save them and it’s like you’re not even there, and then you realize you’re not there when you’re around the people you love, either, even though they’re happy and safe. Cause it all never stops being on fire.”

“What do you do then?” the Doctor asks.

The guy grinds out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Quit your job and move across the ocean,” he says. “Try doing something new. And see a therapist.”

“Ah.” 

“I might have a number for someone you could call, make an appointment with, if you wanted it.”

The Doctor doesn’t think he’s going to call, but he takes it anyway. 

You never know.

[unablethethird]

once again

Same with you skip the weird ones

1: Name Robert [rob]

2: Age 14

3: 3 Fears 1- Friends dying/getting hurt 2-Going back to the last place i lived 3-Not being able to help/be there

4: 3 things I love 1-My frens 2-Laptop 3-headphones

7: My best friend You and yaya [irl]

8: Sexual orientation AroAce [fictoromantic/fictosexual, and kinda orchidromantic]

10: How tall am I 166cm [for now]

11: What do I miss

cant think of anything rn

12: What time were I born 4am

13: Favorite color red, orange, purple, black

15: Favorite quote "Light a man a fire and he'll be warm for the night, light a man *on* fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life"

16: Favorite place Arcade

17: Favorite food Imjaderah [rice+yoghurt+beans]

18: Do I use sarcasm sometimes, not rlly tho

19: What am I listening to right now

20: First thing I notice in new person Not sure, maybe symptoms???? but not on purpose

21: Shoe size No idea

22: Eye color dark brown [almost black]

23: Hair color black

24: Favorite style of clothing 1920s men atire

25: Ever done a prank call? Not that i can remember

27: Meaning behind my URL I mean this is the 3rd acc

28: Favorite movie THE LORAX!!!!

29: Favorite song right now it's

30: Favorite band FamilyJules? LemonDemon? Will wood? Chonny jash?

31: How I feel right now My body's scared but im chilling

32: Someone I love You /p

33: My current relationship status AroAce, platonically married

34: My relationship with my parents lol

35: Favorite holiday Eid al adha, free money

36: Tattoos and piercing i have Ear

37: Tattoos and piercing i want Sleeve tattoo when i transition

38: The reason I joined Tumblr Needed to continue a fic/comic that was on tumblr

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? idk

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? thank you fren /gen

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? my dad? maybe when i was really young

42: When did I last hold hands? My little sister, i didnt want her to get run over when crossing the road

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? As long as i have, if u give me an hour i'll take an hour, if you give me 30 seconds i'll take 30 seconds

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? Nope, i get gender dysphoria from shaving my legs/arms

45: Where am I right now? Bed

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? LOUD

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? Mum, not dad

49: Am I excited for anything? Turning 18 and going uni and being a human person with a human life

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? Im an oversharer

51: How often do I wear a fake smile? Im autistic so not in a deppressed way

52: When was the last time I hugged someone? Cant remember

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? H [irl]

55: What is something I disliked about today? My sister stealing money from my mum, i was this close to having smoke outta my ears, she should know better

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? God, im going to beat the shit out of him

57: What do I think about most? Cringe memories i guess?

58: What’s my strangest talent? I can bird whistle

59: Do I have any strange phobias? Touch might be strange?

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Behind fs

61: What was the last lie I told? "I don't know who they were talking about" [i didn't want to hurt her feelings]

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? voice, video is a nightmare

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yea because either i've seen them or im delusional [im delusional]. aliens are a given, even a bacteria could be one

64: Do I believe in magic? Kinda? idrk, maybe

65: Do I believe in luck? yea

66: What’s the weather like right now? cloudy n cold

67: What was the last book I’ve read? DnD rulebook

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? LVORE IT LOIF LVOE LOVE IT

69: Do I have any nicknames? I get called by my last name a lot

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? not sure

71: Do I spend money or save it? Save

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? Unfortunatly no

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? My sisters deoderant

74: Favorite animal?

FOXES!!!!!!

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? calming myself down

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? I dont think he has one, idk im not religious

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? Corny/cringe as hell but Honeypie by JAWNY

78: How can you win my heart? havent thought about it

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

I TOLD YOU MY FOOT WAS KILLING ME

80: What is my favorite word? supercalifragilisticexpialadocious

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr Moots

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? your god is the right one [chaos]

83: Do I have any relatives in jail? Not currently, but my dad and some uncles were

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? Time manipulation

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? i dont think questions are scary

86: What is my current desktop picture? basic

90: Failed a class? classes

94: Had job? I have one now, dont always get paid though

95: Left the house without my wallet? Dont have a wallet

96: Bullied someone on the internet? no

98: Played on a sports team?

Unless school sport team counts

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? no

104: Been overweight? No

105: Been underweight? yea

106: Been to a wedding? ye

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? Duh

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? maybe i dont remember

109: Been outside my home country? Technically im from iran, and i live in australia, so, yeah

110: Gotten my heart broken? i guess

111: Been to a professional sports game? no

112: Broken a bone? no

113: Cut myself? yeah Im stopping though

114: Been to prom? we dont have that

115: Been in airplane?

Yeah

116: Fly by helicopter? no

117: What concerts have I been to? none

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? kinda

119: Learned another language? I know arabic and english

120: Wore make up? Forced to when i was younger but not anymore

123: Dyed my hair? Part of it purple, but its gone now

124: Voted in a presidential election? Cant vote, eitherway all of em suck

125: Rode in an ambulance? Yep

126: Had a surgery? not sure, memory bad

127: Met someone famous? Not that i know of

128: Stalked someone on a social network? mutuals tumblrs

129: Peed outside? Yea

130: Been fishing? nope

131: Helped with charity? yep

132: Been rejected by a crush? nope

133: Broken a mirror? Yep

134: What do I want for birthday? Wouldn't ever happen because it's expensive as fuck but a pump it up machine

i usually get a slice of cake tho

[calmasyoghurt]

The joker out pride project.

Also on ao3.

June 11th, promt 16. Coming out as a trans man.

“Hi boys, I don’t want to ruin your fun, but I thought I’d let you know that the last bus for Ljubljana leaves in about half an hour”.

The word ‘boys’, in plural, makes Kris’ heart do a little jump, before he can actually register what Jan’s mum said. But of course she’s correct, the last bus does leave in just over 30 minutes. Kris doesn’t really want to go home yet. Today has been an amazing day. Kris got a haircut that makes him feel good about himself. He and Jan has spent the majority of the day learning new songs on their guitars. Oh, and for the first time, Kris has spent almost an entire day being called ‘he’. So Kris doesn’t want to go home yet, where he’ll go back to being called a girl.

“Can’t Kris stay the night? He hasn’t taught me Črn Tulipan yet”, Jan asks his mum, and Kris hopes she’ll allow it.

“Sure, do you want me to call your parents? I don’t want them getting worried about you not coming home”.

“No, think it’s better I call them myself. Thank you for letting me stay”, Kris says, and Jan’s mum tells him he’s welcome to stay any time before leaving the room. Kris grabs his phone, the one he’d gotten for his birthday in January, and calls his mother. The call doesn’t last very long, Kris simply asks for permission to stay the night, his mother allows it. She tells Kris to have fun, and then they wish each other a good night. When Kris hangs up and looks at Jan, he looks amazed.

“What the fuck? Since when do you speak a whole other language?”, Jan asks.

“Since I learned how to speak? You do know my mother is from the Netherlands, right?”. Kris says.

“I guess, but that doesn’t have to mean you speak the language!”. Kris simply laughs at Jan, and suggest that now is the perfect time for Jan to start learning the song that brought Kris’ parents together.

A few hours later, Kris has borrowed one of Jan’s old, washed out band t-shirts to sleep in. He’s sitting on Jan’s bed waiting for him to get back from the bathroom. There’s a small nock on the door, and Jan’s mum enters the room.

“Hi love, are you settling in?”, she asks, and Kris nods.

“Now, I’m not saying that you or Jan aren’t responsible young boys, the contrary in fact. His dad and I have taught him all about the importance of protection. But I want you to be careful anyways, I’m sure you know that std’s aren’t the only thing you in particular can get from a guy. Okay?”. Kris' cheeks feel warm enough to fry an egg on.

“Uh, me and Jan are just friends. Nothing’s going to happen”. Luckily, Kris can hear the bathroom door open before Jan’s mum can give any more advice, and when Jan appears behind him, she just wishes them a good night and leaves.

“What was that about?”, Jan asks as he closes the bedroom door.

“I think your mum thinks we’re a couple or something. She was talking about protection and std’s and stuff”, Kris answers. This makes Jan burst out in laughter. He lays down on the bed next to Kris, and seems to be collecting his thoughts. A minute later, Jan speaks again.

“If we would have met for the first time today, or sometime in the future, then I probably would have a crush on you. The first time we met, I was close to developing feelings. But then you said Kris was short for Kristina and all those feelings flew out the window. Now, that I now you’re a boy and that I could theoretically have a chance, I want nothing else than to keep being friends”.

“How do you always say exactly the right thing? Come here, awkward friend hug time”, Kris says and throws an arm over Jans shoulders. Jan puts an arm over Kris’ hips, and in this moment, everything is peaceful. Tomorrow, Kris might tell mum and dad who he really is.

The next morning, Jan’s dad offers to drive Kris home, since he’s visiting a friend in Ljubljana. Jan says he’ll come with them, saying he wants to see all the guitars that Kris’ dad has. Kris knows it’s a lie, Jan has seen his dad’s guitars multiple times before. The real reason Jan is coming to Ljubljana is to support Kris when coming out. It’s something they discussed when they woke up, and Kris is once again so grateful for Jan’s endless support.

Forty minutes later, Kris and Jan are dropped of outside Kris’ building with a promise from Jan’s dad that he’ll be back in about an hour to pick Jan up. Together, the two friends enter the building, walk up a few stairs, and then they’re outside Kris’ apartment. Kris opens the door and enters, closely followed by Jan. They find Kris’ mum at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. She greets them with a big smile before looking at Kris’ new hairstyle.

“Oh, you cut it short again? It suits you, and won’t make you as warm now that it’s summer”. It almost surprises Kris, how positive she is to the new haircut. But he’s not going to complain, definitely not, this is what he wanted. He wanted them to support him. So why not break the bigger news right away?

“Is dad home? I want to tell you something”, Kris says, and is informed that his dad is in the living room. The three of them walk in to the next room together. When they enter, Kris’ mum sits down in one of the couches, next to her husband, while Kris and Jan sit down in the other couch.

“Hi Jan, I didn’t know you where here! And Kris, new haircut I see, it looks good”, says Kris’ dad.

“What did you want to tell us, schatje?” asks Kris’ mum. This is it. This is the right moment to tell them.

“Well. It’s something I’ve thought about for a while now. I found something out about myself a while ago. When I thought about I realized I’ve been feeling this way for a really long time without knowing why. But I know why I’ve felt it now. It's- it's about who I am”. Kris can’t capture his thoughts. He doesn’t know how to turn them in to words. But then Jan grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly, and it brings Kris’ down to earth.

“There’s something called being transgender. It’s when you don’t feel like you belong in the body of the gender you were born as. I’ve learnt a lot about it, and the more I learn the more I feel like it’s me. During the whole day yesterday, Jan referred to me as if I was a boy, and I really, really enjoyed it. It felt so right, like I was finally being referred to as the person I really am. What I’m trying to say is that it is me, I’m transgender, I’m a boy. It would make me so happy if you referred to me as one, calling me he and a boy and your son and stuff like that”. Kris doesn’t look up at his parents while he’s speaking, and neither does he let go of Jan’s hand. But the room is quiet, too quiet, soo he finally looks up at his parents. They’re smiling at him. They don’t seem to hate him.

“Is that- is that okay with you?” he asks, because he can’t be sure.

“Of course that’s okay with us, schatje. All we want is for you to be happy. We’ll support you no matter what, won’t we, Miha?”.

“We will. You’re our son, it’s our job to love you no matter what. But I’m guessing you don’t want your name to be Kristina anymore, is that right?”.

“Yeah, that’s right. I like Kris though, and almost everyone calls me that already”.

A while later, when Jan gets a text from his dad saying he’s leaving his friends house, Kris feels like a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He follows Jan to the door and watches him put his shoes on. When he straightens up, he looks at Kris.

“I’m proud of you dude. You’re brave. I’ll text you sometime, have a nice summer”. Then he ruffles Kris’ hair, opens the door and leaves.

[downsleeplessroads]

tw- dysphoria / struggling with internalised transphobia + religion, but a mostly optimistic and v hopeful little ramble. i just don't want to catch anyone off guard <33

sometimes being trans feels like someone is individually tearing my teeth from my gums, like there is blood in my mouth and i'll never feel right in this world in this body. but sometimes it is two days post off and the friend you kept from church youth group, back when you were fifteen and dragging guilt you thought you'd die from, is on the floor of your friend's room. he laughs when you tell him you almost passed out from the drains. neither of you believe in god anymore but you do believe in each other. sometimes being trans feels like not being able to breathe, like gasping for air, but sometimes you're writing an essay in your study, and you get hit with a strange wave of bravery. it is an ordinary thursday, raining, you got coffee in the morning for your flatmates from the french bakery down the road. no one yells at you in this house. no one is asking anything of you. you are safe. sometimes being trans is texting the last two people you haven't come out to. your religious nana, the aunt that is filling the space of your estranged mum. sometimes a strange wave of bravery is all it takes. your aunt says your late grandad always wanted a son, reckons he'd be stoked. sometimes being trans is loss and loss and loss, and then sometimes it is finding a way on to your feet again, until you can stand, until your steady, until you realise you are looking around to a life you built. sometimes i still have nightmares about the way they tried to pray it from me, rip it from me like it was something evil. but then i'm with the love of my life and his room is white from the afternoon light, showers of rain against the window. a little snow globe of us. i'm so in love. i do not pray for forgiveness anymore. and sometimes i break down on the bus to somewhere, because i want to ask my mum how to cook a specific meal, how to budget for my gas bills, how to deal with the fact that i'll never go home again, not really. but then my aunt is calling. she found a van gogh book in a second hand store. i chose my name because of my love for him, a nod to his brother. can she send it up? with some coffee too? what is my address? i write it out with the kind of familiarity i remember my grandparents home phone, the same since i was five years old. maybe home becomes new places. maybe the whole thing is that you don't have to go back

[capseycartwright]

Every year the day before my birthday, I write myself a letter – it’s my way of saying goodbye to the year I’ve just lived, a way of letting go of the good, and the bad, and everything else in-between. I’ve written one of these letters every year since I turned eighteen, so this year marks ten years since I started one of the greatest traditions of my life. The words come easier, some years, and other years, the words are stuck in my throat, fingers stiff as I try to articulate what it means to live another year, how to put into words all the way that life challenges and changes me – for better, and worse – every year I get to spend on this planet.

This is one of the years where the words aren’t coming as easily. I’m not entirely naïve, anymore – though I don’t think you can ever fully lose naivety when it was such a hallmark of your personality growing up – but it’s hard not to hope that after a bad year, a good year would follow. I thought that maybe that would be the case, after 26 being one of the hardest years of my life so far, but the universe does not see my birthday as the fundamental start, and end, point that I see it as, and the hardship sort of just – continued.

Maybe that’s one of the things I’ve learned this year – whether you measure your year by birthdays, or New Year’s Eves, these arbitrary start and end points don’t mean much at all: your problems and your wins are yours the day you’re 26, and they remain yours the day you turn 27. As arbitrary as they are, I like a start, and an end, and – even arbitrarily – my final day of being 27 feels like a moment to reflect and think about who I want my 28-year-old self to be. 

I want her to be happier. It’s not that I don’t have a great life – I do – but 27 has been plagued by this lingering unhappiness that has wormed its dark tendrils into every aspect of my life, work and friends and family and everything that doesn’t fall into those neat packages. I could reflect on all the reasons for it. There’s an element of trauma, for one, because watching my mum, my best friend in the entire world, lie in a hospital bed for weeks on end, sitting by her side and holding her hand as she begged me to stay with her, hallucinations caused by an infection making her believe I was nothing more than a figment of her imagination as she took her final breaths, is something I’ll never forget as long as I live. She’s okay now – and every day, I thank a God I’m not sure I even believe in for the fact she answers her phone every morning when I call, greeting me with a tired ‘hello, love’ – but once you’re faced with the reality of how vulnerable your parents really are, it’s hard to forget that there will be more hospital beds and hand-holding in your future. 

I could talk about breaking my foot, and how what feels like a simple injury affected my mental wellbeing in ways I’m still picking up the pieces from – I have never been good at being vulnerable, and I am independent to a fault, and after putting myself in an Uber, hopping around on a foot that I couldn’t put weight on, still unwilling to ask for help, I sat in a hospital car park with a cast that went to my knee and sobbed into the phone, wishing then, more than ever, that I had never left the safe cocoon of my parents embrace. 

I could talk about a lot of things – but I’m realising, more and more, sometimes there is no reason for sadness. Sometimes, you’re just sad, for no good reason, and that’s another thing I’ve learned this year – that I can’t always rationalise the way I feel, that there’s not always a reason, not always a ‘why’ that I can fix. That’s been a hard one to accept, because I have always been a ‘fixer’ – someone who focuses on the things I can fix, the things I am able to change – and that has been another thing I have had to accept this year: I can’t always fix things. There are things in my life that have happened, and will happen, that are so far out of my control I can hardly touch them, and I just have to accept that. And my god, do I hate the prospect of having to just accept things. That’s been a theme of my 27th lap around the sun – having to accept that there are things in my life that I can’t control, can’t fix, can’t change. It’s been an exercise in learning how to let go and lean into the uncertainty and challenge of life. 

I could talk about a lot of things, is the point – but all of those things don’t change that ambition of mine to live a happier life. I have a wonderful life. I have a job that gives me purpose, a job that gets me out of bed every morning and makes me feel like maybe I am making a difference in the world. My parents are, objectively, my favourite people on the planet, and this year, I got to explore a new city, in a new country, with them. I have a family who I love dearly – and I think I could probably write a good sitcom about. I have the best friends in the world, and they’re scattered all over the planet, but they are always at the other end of the phone – whether I’m drunk on a tram and crying about a boy or having a bad day at work and need to get my annoyance off my chest. I am about to move into a new apartment, with new flatmates, and it feels like the most wonderful change I could hope for. I have a wonderful life, is the point – and I want to fully enjoy it. Although there have been moments of pure joy in my life this year, I feel like I have lost the ability to find joy in the mundane, the normal, the everyday – and if I can set myself any goal for 28, it is to find the joy in the everyday again. 

I’ve been thinking, a lot, about what it means to be happier, how you can be happier – and, as with anything in life, I’m realising that happiness is not a given: it takes work, to find the joy in your everyday. I don’t think I’ve been putting that work in, this year. It’s a startling realisation to have, if I’m honest – and a healthy one, too, to realise that you have put too much faith in the grandiose power of the universe, and neglected the (perhaps less grandiose, but still powerful) power you hold yourself to create a happier life. It seems silly, to forget that I hold all the power I need to give myself a happier life – especially when I am the person who’s created this life I do have. I am a product of all the people who love me, and who’ve given me the space to grow and learn and become the person I am today, of course I am the product of so many people’s belief and love – but I am the person who made the decision to move my life abroad, and pursue a dream so big I can hardly believe it’s mine, so I am the person who has the power to make my life happier. I’ve learned that this year. 

I’ve also learned that with every promotion, you hit a crossroads. That sounds terribly lofty – but hear me out. I am lucky enough to have had several promotions in my (arguably short) career so far, but they’ve been promotions from intern, to assistant, to low-level grown up. Last month, I was promoted into the most senior position I can ever have in my organisation – and I underestimated the change that comes with that new title. I thought senior was just doing bigger, and better, and more – and in some ways, it is. But in other ways, it’s not – being more senior is about being more of a leader, thinking strategically, and giving those same interns and assistants I used to be the opportunities my senior colleagues once gave me. It’s hard, to let go of the things you know you can do well and pass them on to someone else to make their own – but that is a part of my new journey. 

I’m calling it a crossroads because it is one – now, I have the word senior in front of my title and so I need to decide what kind of senior staff member I want to be: and it’s hardly a decision, really. I want to be the kind of senior staff member I started my career surrounded by – open, and caring, willing to teach and eager to get junior staff involved, the kind of senior team leader who passes on their knowledge and expertise long before they hand their notice in – sharing not out of necessity, no. Sharing because it’s what you should do. I’m not sure I’m a natural born leader – it’s a role I wasn’t sure appealed to me, until I lived this twenty-seventh year and realised that it’s the path I want my career to go down – and it's going to be one of the greatest learning curves of my life. I’ve never been good at letting go – I hold on to the things I love, my grip deathly tight, until they are wrenched from my grasp without my permission. It’s not a nice way to be, I know – and so in these final few weeks of being 27, I have begun a learning process that daunts me more than any essay, or exam, ever did – I am learning to let go, so that other people can grow in the places where I have been given the space to flourish these last four years. 

This letter feels altogether very forward looking – which reflects my state of mind, I think – but I don’t want to see this year out without some good old-fashioned reflection, because if there is anything I am good at, it’s being nostalgic for times that aren’t even over, yet. In years gone by, I have reflected on my strength – the way I have continued through some of the worst, and scariest times of my life, and still come out the other side. That strength is still there – and I will always be proud of it – but this year, I’m prouder of the way I have admitted my own weaknesses. There’s a lot of reasons why I am the way I am, independent to a fault, unwilling to admit my own flaws and weaknesses, and so it hasn’t been easy to embrace my own weaknesses, the things I am not good at. It hasn’t been easy to ask for help – but I have. I’ve asked for help by text, and in person, and I am learning to rely on the people who love me: because my weaknesses are not burdens. I don’t always believe that – but I’m trying to, because people in my life love me, and loving someone means loving their weaknesses, as well as their strengths. 

27 has brought about a need to embrace my own vulnerability in ways I don’t find entirely comfortable. Independent to a fault, unwilling to ask for help – all of the above. But all that has made it so I am living a life more isolated than I would like, and 27 has begun a process of unlearning that, of dismantling the near-impenetrable stone wall I have built around myself. I have always been embarrassed of how much I feel – good, or bad, I feel with my entire self. A friend told me this year (hi, Emma) that the way I feel is one of her favourite things about me – and that the way I feel so intensely is a beautiful quality. I don’t think I fully believe that, yet, but 27 has marked the beginning of wanting to believe that – wanting to believe that the way I have never been able to feel by halves is a good thing. That it’s a good thing, I care so passionately about my family, and friends, and colleagues, and the world we live in, that it can feel overwhelming. That it’s a good thing, to cry at emotional TV adverts and to lose myself in the wonder of romance novels. That it’s a good thing, to feel so much that I can’t help but want to write – fiction, or prose, or whatever comes to mind when my fingers start to move against a keyboard so rapidly that my thoughts can hardly keep up. One day, someone will love me for how intensely I feel – and it won’t be a burden, to be the object of the overwhelming love and care I feel for people. 

(I know who I’d like to be the object of that love, and care – and it’d be somewhat insincere, to let a letter like this pass by without acknowledging that so much of this twenty-seventh year of mine has been taken up by you, by this friendship of ours that’s become one of the most important in my life – because you’ve listened, to all my fears and woes and worries with a smile and the knowledge that can only come with being a few years past 27 – and I have fallen so hard for you in such a short space of time, it sometimes makes me wish I didn’t feel so much. I should tell you; I know that – and I hope 28-year-old me will be brave enough to. Because I think we’d work, and sometimes I think you think the same. It's on my list, of things I’d like to do this next year of mine.)

Maybe it’s because 30 is looming on the horizon, a new decade of my life peeping around the corner – but so much of this year has felt contemplative. Who do I want to be? What kind of friend, colleague, do I want to be known as? Where do I want to continue to build this wonderful life of mine – is the call to come home outweighing the desire to stay abroad and live this life of adventure I have sacrificed so much for? I don’t have answers, not to all of those questions, and maybe I never will have definitive ones – but I know this much for sure. 27 has been hard – harder than I imagined it would be, hard in that deeply existential way I think nothing can prepare you for. It’s been hard, and it’s been wonderful – new babies, and new friends, and old friendships set alight with a newfound joy, a promotion to a senior role in a job that has changed the course of my life, a new apartment and new flatmates I think could become close friends, a family, even – and it’s been divinely nuanced in that way I am realising life always is: there is no definitively good, or bad year. There are only years I am lucky enough to live, time I am lucky enough to have, and laughter lines that don’t make me queasy, the way I used to think they would – because they are a reminder I am here, and I am alive, and laughing, and each day I spend on this planet is a privilege. 27 has borne so many reminders that life is short, and it's fragile, and it ends, so quickly and unexpectedly, and perhaps that’s part of why I have such a burning desire to live a happier life: because we only get so much of it, and I have already lived 27 years of mine. 27 has been hard, and it’s been good, and it’s been bad, and it’s been wonderful – and I won’t miss it. Not when I think that what the first few months of 28 has in store for me is exciting, and overwhelming, and utterly transformative. 

This has been 27 – and I think that I’m going to like the version of me that 28 will see the growth of so much. And I’m excited to see who I’ll be in a year, sitting here the night before my birthday, saying goodbye to a year that feels full of unknown. Me of a year ago would have hated that uncertainty – me of today, well, she’s trying to embrace letting go. We’ll see how that goes.